pearlescentparade

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watching the dusekkar fluff slowly climb the ladder... we're gonna make it lads

beautiful work as always with the last fics pearl!!

its so funny hearing what req ppl are looking forward to n watching for ,, youll get it SOMEday trust 🙏🙏

and thank you so much!!! hopefully i only get better from here ^^

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Bro's hitting that pose

- 🎀

phantom of the aurafarm 🔥🔥🔥 christine i got that shit ON!!!!!!!!

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Me waddling my happy camper ass back to this blog to read the same three azuretime fics for the 528th time this week. At this point it’s an addiction.🙏 [also, hope you’re in good health, both physically and mentally! stay safe out there and take care of yourself boo!]

- velvet anon, I’ve been here but I don’t think I’ve had the heart to say anything yet <\3

I RLLY LOOK FORWARD TO WRITING MORE OF THEM!! esp bc with some lore changes i think their dynamic is easier to understand wahauag its nice to hear theyre good enough to reread a bunch of times over 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️!!

and thank you!! im still holding up strong ^^ aside from my majorly screwed sleep schedule, but blehhh its summerrrr whatevaaarrrr

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Again sorry if the point I was trying to get across wasn’t communicated good, I typed it when I was real tired lol

-🐟

dont sweat it im on 3 hours of sleep rn lawl

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correct me if im wrong, but isnt phantom a ghost or something?? even if christine chose him, it would still NOT work out, if we put his possessiveness aside.

Au wise too actually, I love subspace but im not telling people im married to a fucking ghost 😭

dont ask me ask og author gaston leroux

there are actually some adaptations where the phantom is not a ghost and is just some Dude living in the operahouse but i think that interpretation sounds lame and dull bc its like okayyy well now hes Boring

i think there is something poetic about the phantom yearning for christine despite their difference in corporeality, because it better portrays phantoms obsession for what it is: limerence. phantom's love for christine and his imagined relationship with her is impossible and unachievable on several levels, it's pure delusion, but he still pines and longs for her. even when seeing her marry another man, knowing she can never be his now, he still leaves the rose with her ring at the end of the 2004 film. phantom refuses to stop loving christine even in the face of impossibility

and in my opinion, that is the appeal of phantom of the opera and what makes it tragic. here is a man with a wrong love, watch him pursue it anyway. because that is what love is all about!!! it is a driving force, a motive, a purpose (not the purpose but a purpose) people go above and beyond for love, they do the impossible for love even when the love itself is impossible

the one thing that is consistent across all phantom of the opera adaptations is the phantoms love for christine and in most if not all of them, she always ends up with raoul. no matter what, this plot point is constant because it is an iconic, crucial part of the tragedy. the wheel that keeps it going, even!! which circles back to love being something like an engine that pushes things (plot and people) forward

...man ap lit wouldve genuinely been a breeze if i could write about phantom of the opera for an essay and not the tiddlywinks i can remember of the overarching theme of lies in the great gatsby

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OMG IM SO SO SORRY PEARL I DIDNT REALIZE IT BC I DIDNT READ UR LATEST STORY ON TUMBLR

no my mini rant was sparked by a completely different fic on ao3, like the 3rd or 4th paragraph was an actual wall.

While I agree on long paragraphs don’t mean beginner, I probably should have said that long paragraphs are okay, it’s only walls that I have a problem

Again I’m so so sorry

Yeah tumblr has some weird formatting but for me I can read just fine, even with long paragraphs, tbh it might be bc my tumblr is on dark mode and ao3 is the default blinding white lol

-🐟

LOLLL IG YOU WERE JUST REALLY REALLY UNLUCKY AUAGAH what are the odds of accidentally and completely coincidentally dissing parade ....

but oh gosh yea now that i think about it there are some instances where long paragraphs are literal hell 😓 like genuinely no breaks or anything not even for setting change or speaker change for dialogue then THATS hard to read

no need to apologize, it was all coincidence anyway lawl

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i am especially sorry to block tales likers. i havent written for their fandom since MAY💔

sorry to everyone who likes other roblox games u guys r not getting forsaken or block tales for the next 5 requests (2 years) :[

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sorry to everyone who likes other roblox games u guys r not getting forsaken or block tales for the next 5 requests (2 years) :[

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PUT SHOES ON?? I KNOW THOSE DOGS ARE IN SOCKS BUT....ONE WRONG MOVE AND THEY'LL POP OUT AND START BARKING?? Slash jay

IM ASIAN i would rather lay an ostrich egg than wear shoes in ANYones house 😓

[pearlescentparade]

also if anyone cares my betareaders had some Things to say about this one

comtext for the last one after telling izy to go to imessage i immediately sent a vm of me whining like an italian greyhound

nsfw mentions under cut

Your phantom of opera idea❓ Yeah that‼️I want IT‼️ I'm requesting it ‼️‼️‼️

invention of music ✦⬧ phantom of the opera subspace x reader x medkit

wc: 2396 words

universe: phantom of the opera alternate universe subspace as the phantom reader as christine medkit as raoul

tw/cw: subspace, subspace and medkit like reader only and not each other soz

in sleep, he sang to you. in dreams, he came.

thunderous applause echoes in the operahouse, with flurries of roses and a chorus of whistling thrown at the conclusion of your marvelous performance. looking out to the crowd, it's impossible to discern any of your audience with the operahouse's lights dimmed. their vague faces appear more like shapes, and rarely can you make out the shape and color of their horns (though, your eyes swear they see a teal set). but goodness, do they see you. and perfectly so. 

the overhead spotlights are near blinding as they shine down on your heaving body in the center of the stage, light highlighting the ever so slight condensation budding on your face. and you do nothing except bask. bask in the light, the praise, the moment. even as the velvet curtains draw together and cast you in darkness, the audience still lovingly clamors for your ghost. some even call for an encore, begging for even a second more of you. but you're already moving into the wings, past various ensemble members' congratulations, beelining straight to your room.

the iron of the knob is freezing on your clammy hand, and turning it feels like it takes more effort than it should. and once your door finally cracks open, you're immediately greeted first and foremost with the overwhelming aroma and familiar sight of thousands of flowers, expanding across your ornate room like an incredibly overgrown garden. in every nook and cranny of your room peeked out peonies, carnations, and the like. but primarily? roses.

pink roses, specifically.

he always tells you that it's a crime they don't face you at all times. that these cheap flora don't appreciate true beauty and quality, and they ought to wither as penance. you always tell him he's getting a bit too passionate about some flowers.

you press your back against the door, clicking it shut and closing you off in your own world. with a light exhale, you stroll to your vanity (also excessively embellished with roses) and settle down on the cushioned stool. your mind wanders as you glance at your reflection, warmly lit with yellow by the dancing flame of a nearby candle. 

it feels unreal. only a week ago, you were simply an unremarkable ensemble soprano, meant to support the lead. but after a light fixture nearly fell on her during rehearsal, she had stormed out. cried that it was the workings of the 'phantom'. then the madame recommended you for the role, and here you are. in a stolen limelight. there's no doubt in your mind that this was what the phantom had intended.

for as long as he reigns over the operahouse, you will be the one and only star.

judging by the shuffling and various murmuring on the other side of the door, there's already inphernals clamoring outside to add to your ever-growing garden. strangers, hoping to catch even a sliver of you. thankfully, the madame of the operahouse seems to be doing her job at keeping them from disturbing you, if the faint scolding and clicking of heels is anything to go by.

well, all except for one. but glancing up to see who shut your door just now, you can't complain nor fight the smile pulling at your lips.

"hope you don't mind a minor interruption to your night." medkit returns it, smaller and meeker but no less meaningful. the years have clearly treated him well. you almost couldn't recognize the once young inphernal who couldn't keep his head out of a book, now a collected and austere fully-grown demon. it's hard not to take notice of his hands remaining tucked behind his back as he crosses your room to stand before you.

you gasp, faking offense. "don't sell yourself so short, meds! you're a major interruption." medkit rolls his eyes lightheartedly at your astute correction, if only to avoid your playful gaze piercing right through him from below. he's become so familiar with it throughout the years, he knows meeting it would spell his doom and use it in a sentence.

"so i mean that much to you? i'm so flattered." he sarcastically brings a hand to his heart, squeezing it as if to tell it to be still. possibly the worst part about your childhood best friend being a smartass is how easily and awfully he twisted your words against you. every squabble with med-"i am wittier than you"-kit is a losing battle in which he breaks no sweat to leave you looking like a fool. your 'major interruption' leans slightly against the desk of your vanity, making himself right at home. however, he considers anywhere with you 'home', so not too far off.

"you know what i meant." grinning, you softly smack his midriff. "and that's rich coming from the demon who came to see me perform! bet you almost shed a tear out there, didn't you?" 

he lowly chuckles, "this is true." from behind his broad back, he finally reveals a large bouquet. your eyes widen at the stunning assortment of tulips, red and white roses, and amaranth, all beautifully wrapped in paper and a neat ribbon. they stand out starkly against the sea of pink in your room, and medkit doesn't seem visibly proud with his lack of consideration for harkening to your aesthetic (he's always prided himself on his taste). but you think it fits. of course, not in the sense that it blends in, more that it fits him.

because, for reasons you'd never admit, he too has a distinct presence—in your heart. why was it that you lingered on that speck of teal in an otherwise monotonous audience earlier?

"woah.. is this all for me..?" astonished, you're almost afraid to touch it as it leaves his hands and enters yours, the paper barely making the slightest of a crinkling sound in your arms. 

medkit quirks a brow, cocking another sarcastic remark in the chamber. "i don't believe there's another lead soprano i'm meant to be giving this to." and he shoots. now it's your turn to roll your eyes, but you suppose you can't stay mad at him since he got you flowers and all. 

awkwardly, he clears his throat, before adding under his breath, "...you were amazing out there tonight. and might i add," he glances down at your costume for longer than he should, eyes drinking in every frill and detail, "gorgeous too." 

his voice has suddenly grown soft around the edges, and you'd tease him about it and the light blush creeping on his face if it weren't for your own. in fact, the scorching feeling on your cheeks tells you yours is definitely way worse.

"..really laying it on thick, huh?" your laugh is shaky and strained, barely escaping your throat. you pretend to be too occupied with the beauty of the bouquet to actually look at him, even toying with the ribbon to sell it further.

"i'm only saying it how it is," he states calmly.

…but is that really how it is? something tugs deep within you. looming over you. like a ghost. tonight's success is not the result of only your work. and credit should be given where it's due.

"...i've.. been getting help."

"finally," he snorts.

"..not that kind of help, stupid!"

"unfortunate."

your voice suddenly hushes to a whisper, "i mean help from the devil of music. i've been learning under his guidance every night." the theatre is his domain after all, and it's unkind to talk about somedemon who's listening. 

you think your heart breaks a little when medkit stares at you bewildered, like you've lost it. well, you're always losing it, but this time he thinks you're not getting it back. "...maybe try looking into 'that kind of help'."

"i–i know it sounds insane, but–"

jumbled words fade into a croaked half-syllable as he plants a simple and fleeting kiss on your forehead. in the corner of your eye, you swear the fire of the candle on your desk almost put itself out.

the distance between you two is mere inches when he mutters, "do have more confidence in your own abilities. i understand humility is a virtue, but don't you think you're a tad too old to be saying such things?" 

a low grumble rolls in your throat, and medkit just sighs, pulling away and straightening his back. "i believe i must go. i came here with the church, and they're surely looking for me by now. wouldn't be the first time i got in trouble because of you." 

he throws a pointed look your way, but all you do is snort in response. "hah, aren't you a tad too old to be running off on your own?"

"oh, hush. good night to you."

with that, medkit turns to leave, only allowing you to longingly look at his spine. it's not a far distance at all from the end of your room to the entrance. but watching him go feels like forever. 

"meds?"

he still doesn't turn around when he stops in his tracks with his hand on the doorknob, either.

"...come and see me often, please?"

medkit is right to keep his head forward, otherwise he fears he would never leave. swords, if only you knew how much he wanted to, though. how much he wanted to be your willing prisoner, doomed to sit and joke with you for all of eternity.

"i'll try." he hates to leave you hoping.

the door shuts behind him, and just like that, you're 'alone'. 

'alone'.

right. you're never truly alone.

not in his operahouse.

an impossibly freezing and biting wind sweeps through your room, killing the flame on every lit candelabra and plunging you into cold shadows. the petals of all your flowers ruffle from the sheer force, and you can only watch with horrified eyes as some of the weaker petals are torn off. it seems especially furious on medkit's bouquet, almost wresting the lovely gift right out of your hands. yet it fails, only because you cling so tightly, hugging it flush against your body.

"asinine!! foul!! perverse!!! positively REPUGNANT!!!!" the voice that calls to you and speaks your name every night now shrilly screeches all around you, the exact direction it's coming from unclear. your ears may be bleeding.

hot pink begins to swirl and manifest in a full-length mirror adjacent to your vanity; gradually forming two sets of horns, then a stark white porcelain mask, and finally, a body trembling in pure unbridled rage. like he couldn't possibly wait any longer to reveal himself.

"that daft wretch thinks he understands your music—thinks he understands your beauty. but he doesn't. nowhere near the level that i do," subspace spits, venom dripping from every harsh word. he's the one who's poured all of his dead heart into shaping you into the perfect performer, carefully planning everything so that it would be you as the main character, and this cretin thinks he has a right to your heart?

unacceptable.

his eye almost appears closed from how hard he's squinting as he beckons, "come to me."

you obey. there's no other choice, is there?

once you're standing before him, subspace's voice immediately falls into fawning and sorrow, "oh, my invention of music.. you've been desecrated…!!" distraught, he paws at you from the other side of the mirror, comforting you through the glass. though, the patronizing act only makes you more uncomfortable.

"that disgusting demon… eyeing you up and down and touching you as he pleases…" his open palm then curls into a tight fist, tone quickly souring again, "i'll turn his horns into stage props!!" 

you tremble at the threat. the phantom has a kick for the theatrics, but that just means all of his impossible execution ideas are very much within the realm of possibility. and while he's thrown a few silly tantrums here and there, getting into fits over a note you struggle to hit or ripping apart his compositions in frustration, never have you seen him this enraged like now.

"phantom.. no, please, he's just—" 

he pinches the bridge of his nose, "goodness, how many times am i meant to remind you?"

"..subspace, ("much better!") me and him are.. friends. i beg of you, please, don't hurt him." if he somehow didn't notice your clear hesitation, he didn't say anything.

but he does say this:

"my invention," he draws his words out, slow and clear. "you do not have time for friends in the path i will pave for you." it's hard to hold his gaze when he looks at you so intently. somehow, he's able to perfectly replicate the fear from being yelled at without raising his voice at all.

you swallow thickly, and it feels like a rock inching down your throat.

subspace's voice returns to something kinder, shoulders relaxing. "and aren't i enough? look at me, my muse."

the best you can do is settle your eyes on his mask. he begrugdingly accepts this.

his hand rests over his heart, like pledging an oath. "i would do anything for you. i have done everything for you. and i will continue to do so, though you turn from me to glance behind at insignificants. under my care, you will thrive." he reaches to you again, yet still unable to touch.

you grip your hand tightly with the other, and subspace spies you rolling back your bottom lip to bite it. something ticks in him at the sight of you being so tense and tight-lipped around him when you were such a bright chatterbox mere moments ago. he sighs, a heavy and exasperated sound. you are such a handful when you remember other inphernals other than him exist.

"come along, we must proceed to our lesson."

only when subspace stops appearing in your mirror do you look up, just in time to see the glass opening like a door to reveal a torch-lit cobblestone hallway. at the end lay darkness, but it isn't the unknown. you've travelled down here numerous times, ran your fingers along the etched grooves in the stone walls. perhaps you really have lost it if you're actually getting used to entering eerie hallways.

come now, you know better than to keep the phantom waiting. first goes your right foot, then your left.

and then you're gone.

(parade postscript: hihihi!! i was actually super happy that someone 1. remembered that post and 2. actually wanted me to write it so here it is!! this is mainly based off of the 2004 rendition of the film because thats the only one i watched, plus some creative liberties taken with the interactions between phantom & christine and christine & raoul because i was kinda going based off of memory + wikipedia summarization,, in the actual movie they dont talk nearly as long with each other im just making them talk for content lawl

i chose this scene specifically because i didnt really want to write a scene at the climax because thats awkward, and i wanted to use a scene that properly introduced the reader's individual relationships with subspace and medkit

also the flowers in medkits bouquet have meanings!! flowers have like a million different meanings for one fkin flower but these are the meanings i used tulips represent perfect and deep love white roses represent purity and innocence (because medkit's love for reader is pure and sweet, as opposed to subspace's), and red roses obviously mean passion and love and desire respectively. when given together they mean unity!! amaranths represent never fading feelings, because medkit has had romantic feelings for reader since they were both younger

the pink roses were just in the original scene, and there was a shit load of em which is why i chose to describe them so theres not really any purposeful symbolism behind them but they are often associated with admiration and affection

also also i tried to change up my writing style a little this time around!! dont know if its that noticable hope its still okay lol

sigh i know i said id make these shorter, but its very hard to condense the PHANTOM OF THE OPERA)

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on the topic of phantom, i actually dressed up as the phantom for halloween a few years ago! or kinda a budget version bc i bought the mask from daiso and thought ehhh fuck it it looks similar enuff to the phantom

this makes me seem like a huge fan of it but i promise my knowledge of it is very basic and surface level and im a huge poser 💔💔 i just love masked dudes and possessive dudes and the concept is cool

[pearlescentparade]

did some writing and sure enough it was posted when I came back... a watched pot truly never boils

I don’t really know about phantom of the opera, but that was a very enjoyable read either way!! I was a little worried about Not Getting It, but I gave it two quick reads and I never really felt confused :]

I especially like how Subspace is described throughout it all, it felt very,,, Him. I don’t know it’s 1am </3

The banter between Medkit and Reader is amazing as always... no notes there because you hit the mark Every Time. the interaction between them felt so familiar that it also made a really great contrast with how careful the interaction with Reader and Subspace had after.

I could yap for longer, but it’s too late and I’m sleepy ..

—gummy worm anon

HASUDA SORRY I TOOK SO LONG!! i just had so much to say in the postscript because there was a lot i wanted to talk about in regards to how i tackled this request!! i really like to do analyses on my own stuff (writing and design, if you saw my speed analysis on valentines design) because its just unlikely someone else will do it and see all the fun purposeful stuff i did hehe,, i am my biggest fan

on that note, i get sooo unbelievably overjoyed when i get comments like yours that notice the small things and appreciate the characterizations!!! GENUINELY THE BIGGEST COMPLIMENT THANK YOU SO MUCHHH AHSUDSA

i actually got stuck on the characterization on this work surprisingly,, im glad medkit and reader's dynamic successfully came across as casual and childhoodfriend-like (its 2 am.), my biggest worry was making medkit either so stoic that he didnt feel like a childhood friend or too playful that he didnt feel like medkit AHUDSA this 97 year old writer still makes playful banter the old fashioned way!!!

I WAS LITERALLY HOPING SOMEONE WOULD CATCH THE DYNAMIC SHIFT,, well i mean its hard not to catch it when the shift kinda throws itself at you, BUT IM GLAD SOMEONE POINTED IT OUT AND TALKED ABOUT IT!! poto! subspace and reader's relationship is definitely a lot more unbalanced in power dynamic, even though subspace does hold a fondness for you

[pearlescentparade]

This isn’t directed to anyone or to you, just a general peeve of mine, please don’t read this as an attack on you or anyone.

I hate when fanfic authors don’t break up paragraphs so you end up trying to read a wall of text and it’s the most annoying thing ever. This is both difficult for readers who may struggle with reading large amounts of text or just anyone as the sentences start to just blend into each other and also not breaking up your paragraphs makes it much more obvious that you are a beginner writer. I’ll start to read a fic then get sooo turned off bc I see very large walls of text for the whole story and tbh it could be the best writing ever but due to it not being broken up it’s harder to read.

PSA for if this gets answered and someone wants to write; break up your paragraphs to make it easier for reader and to make yourself not seem like you’re a total beginner.

-🐟

as nice as it is for you to say its not directed to me, its honestly kinda difficult to not feel like it is when you send this in right after i post the new writing with lengthier paragraphs so saying that doesnt really help haha;;

it just looks long on tumblr because tumblr text takes up less space horizontally, but it looks normal sized on ao3, if you'd prefer to read it with more space (thisis why i actually hate reading anything on tumblr)

because these are the same paragraphs

but ao3s looks smaller because it allows more words on one line im in the same boat as you because i prefer how it looks on ao3 anyway since im the same way sometimes lol

and in my opinion, longer paragraphs doesnt always make you look like a beginner!! while it may usually be the case, i actually personally prefer the look of longer paragraphs because it feels closer to reading published books rather than fanfiction and in fact i take inspiration for my writing style from published literature!! i think we as a whole are just too accustomed to the 2 or 3 lines paragraph of fanfiction, because its whats common

not only that ive also kinda hated how smaller paragraphs made it seem like i wrote so little and it pisses me off as someone who does indeed write very little lol;;

these are all unprofessional opinions from a hobbyist writer, so its whateva!! differing opinions are good to have n i dont think we should think of being/looking 'beginner' as a necessarily bad thing because it implies there is shame to be had in not having as much experience as others in your field and thats just not true

[pearlescentparade]

how does the phantom of opera end? happy? sad? bittersweet?? would it be the same for the au??

at least in the 2004 rendition its tragic for the phantom because christine does not choose him in the end, and goes with raoul

though, he is implied to be alive because when they time skip and old raoul goes to christines grave, there is a rose with her ring around the stem, meaning he is alive and still loves her so he isnt completely gone and is still on the yearning grind

i would say its bittersweet, and i would think the same would happen in the au

[pearlescentparade]

I think I'm dead /pos

//🎰

the phantom asf:

HOPE IT WAS GOOD LOL

[pearlescentparade]

Your phantom of opera idea❓ Yeah that‼️I want IT‼️ I'm requesting it ‼️‼️‼️

invention of music ✦⬧ phantom of the opera subspace x reader x medkit

wc: 2396 words

universe: phantom of the opera alternate universe subspace as the phantom reader as christine medkit as raoul

tw/cw: subspace, subspace and medkit like reader only and not each other soz

in sleep, he sang to you. in dreams, he came.

thunderous applause echoes in the operahouse, with flurries of roses and a chorus of whistling thrown at the conclusion of your marvelous performance. looking out to the crowd, it's impossible to discern any of your audience with the operahouse's lights dimmed. their vague faces appear more like shapes, and rarely can you make out the shape and color of their horns (though, your eyes swear they see a teal set). but goodness, do they see you. and perfectly so. 

the overhead spotlights are near blinding as they shine down on your heaving body in the center of the stage, light highlighting the ever so slight condensation budding on your face. and you do nothing except bask. bask in the light, the praise, the moment. even as the velvet curtains draw together and cast you in darkness, the audience still lovingly clamors for your ghost. some even call for an encore, begging for even a second more of you. but you're already moving into the wings, past various ensemble members' congratulations, beelining straight to your room.

the iron of the knob is freezing on your clammy hand, and turning it feels like it takes more effort than it should. and once your door finally cracks open, you're immediately greeted first and foremost with the overwhelming aroma and familiar sight of thousands of flowers, expanding across your ornate room like an incredibly overgrown garden. in every nook and cranny of your room peeked out peonies, carnations, and the like. but primarily? roses.

pink roses, specifically.

he always tells you that it's a crime they don't face you at all times. that these cheap flora don't appreciate true beauty and quality, and they ought to wither as penance. you always tell him he's getting a bit too passionate about some flowers.

you press your back against the door, clicking it shut and closing you off in your own world. with a light exhale, you stroll to your vanity (also excessively embellished with roses) and settle down on the cushioned stool. your mind wanders as you glance at your reflection, warmly lit with yellow by the dancing flame of a nearby candle. 

it feels unreal. only a week ago, you were simply an unremarkable ensemble soprano, meant to support the lead. but after a light fixture nearly fell on her during rehearsal, she had stormed out. cried that it was the workings of the 'phantom'. then the madame recommended you for the role, and here you are. in a stolen limelight. there's no doubt in your mind that this was what the phantom had intended.

for as long as he reigns over the operahouse, you will be the one and only star.

judging by the shuffling and various murmuring on the other side of the door, there's already inphernals clamoring outside to add to your ever-growing garden. strangers, hoping to catch even a sliver of you. thankfully, the madame of the operahouse seems to be doing her job at keeping them from disturbing you, if the faint scolding and clicking of heels is anything to go by.

well, all except for one. but glancing up to see who shut your door just now, you can't complain nor fight the smile pulling at your lips.

"hope you don't mind a minor interruption to your night." medkit returns it, smaller and meeker but no less meaningful. the years have clearly treated him well. you almost couldn't recognize the once young inphernal who couldn't keep his head out of a book, now a collected and austere fully-grown demon. it's hard not to take notice of his hands remaining tucked behind his back as he crosses your room to stand before you.

you gasp, faking offense. "don't sell yourself so short, meds! you're a major interruption." medkit rolls his eyes lightheartedly at your astute correction, if only to avoid your playful gaze piercing right through him from below. he's become so familiar with it throughout the years, he knows meeting it would spell his doom and use it in a sentence.

"so i mean that much to you? i'm so flattered." he sarcastically brings a hand to his heart, squeezing it as if to tell it to be still. possibly the worst part about your childhood best friend being a smartass is how easily and awfully he twisted your words against you. every squabble with med-"i am wittier than you"-kit is a losing battle in which he breaks no sweat to leave you looking like a fool. your 'major interruption' leans slightly against the desk of your vanity, making himself right at home. however, he considers anywhere with you 'home', so not too far off.

"you know what i meant." grinning, you softly smack his midriff. "and that's rich coming from the demon who came to see me perform! bet you almost shed a tear out there, didn't you?" 

he lowly chuckles, "this is true." from behind his broad back, he finally reveals a large bouquet. your eyes widen at the stunning assortment of tulips, red and white roses, and amaranth, all beautifully wrapped in paper and a neat ribbon. they stand out starkly against the sea of pink in your room, and medkit doesn't seem visibly proud with his lack of consideration for harkening to your aesthetic (he's always prided himself on his taste). but you think it fits. of course, not in the sense that it blends in, more that it fits him.

because, for reasons you'd never admit, he too has a distinct presence—in your heart. why was it that you lingered on that speck of teal in an otherwise monotonous audience earlier?

"woah.. is this all for me..?" astonished, you're almost afraid to touch it as it leaves his hands and enters yours, the paper barely making the slightest of a crinkling sound in your arms. 

medkit quirks a brow, cocking another sarcastic remark in the chamber. "i don't believe there's another lead soprano i'm meant to be giving this to." and he shoots. now it's your turn to roll your eyes, but you suppose you can't stay mad at him since he got you flowers and all. 

awkwardly, he clears his throat, before adding under his breath, "...you were amazing out there tonight. and might i add," he glances down at your costume for longer than he should, eyes drinking in every frill and detail, "gorgeous too." 

his voice has suddenly grown soft around the edges, and you'd tease him about it and the light blush creeping on his face if it weren't for your own. in fact, the scorching feeling on your cheeks tells you yours is definitely way worse.

"..really laying it on thick, huh?" your laugh is shaky and strained, barely escaping your throat. you pretend to be too occupied with the beauty of the bouquet to actually look at him, even toying with the ribbon to sell it further.

"i'm only saying it how it is," he states calmly.

…but is that really how it is? something tugs deep within you. looming over you. like a ghost. tonight's success is not the result of only your work. and credit should be given where it's due.

"...i've.. been getting help."

"finally," he snorts.

"..not that kind of help, stupid!"

"unfortunate."

your voice suddenly hushes to a whisper, "i mean help from the devil of music. i've been learning under his guidance every night." the theatre is his domain after all, and it's unkind to talk about somedemon who's listening. 

you think your heart breaks a little when medkit stares at you bewildered, like you've lost it. well, you're always losing it, but this time he thinks you're not getting it back. "...maybe try looking into 'that kind of help'."

"i–i know it sounds insane, but–"

jumbled words fade into a croaked half-syllable as he plants a simple and fleeting kiss on your forehead. in the corner of your eye, you swear the fire of the candle on your desk almost put itself out.

the distance between you two is mere inches when he mutters, "do have more confidence in your own abilities. i understand humility is a virtue, but don't you think you're a tad too old to be saying such things?" 

a low grumble rolls in your throat, and medkit just sighs, pulling away and straightening his back. "i believe i must go. i came here with the church, and they're surely looking for me by now. wouldn't be the first time i got in trouble because of you." 

he throws a pointed look your way, but all you do is snort in response. "hah, aren't you a tad too old to be running off on your own?"

"oh, hush. good night to you."

with that, medkit turns to leave, only allowing you to longingly look at his spine. it's not a far distance at all from the end of your room to the entrance. but watching him go feels like forever. 

"meds?"

he still doesn't turn around when he stops in his tracks with his hand on the doorknob, either.

"...come and see me often, please?"

medkit is right to keep his head forward, otherwise he fears he would never leave. swords, if only you knew how much he wanted to, though. how much he wanted to be your willing prisoner, doomed to sit and joke with you for all of eternity.

"i'll try." he hates to leave you hoping.

the door shuts behind him, and just like that, you're 'alone'. 

'alone'.

right. you're never truly alone.

not in his operahouse.

an impossibly freezing and biting wind sweeps through your room, killing the flame on every lit candelabra and plunging you into cold shadows. the petals of all your flowers ruffle from the sheer force, and you can only watch with horrified eyes as some of the weaker petals are torn off. it seems especially furious on medkit's bouquet, almost wresting the lovely gift right out of your hands. yet it fails, only because you cling so tightly, hugging it flush against your body.

"asinine!! foul!! perverse!!! positively REPUGNANT!!!!" the voice that calls to you and speaks your name every night now shrilly screeches all around you, the exact direction it's coming from unclear. your ears may be bleeding.

hot pink begins to swirl and manifest in a full-length mirror adjacent to your vanity; gradually forming two sets of horns, then a stark white porcelain mask, and finally, a body trembling in pure unbridled rage. like he couldn't possibly wait any longer to reveal himself.

"that daft wretch thinks he understands your music—thinks he understands your beauty. but he doesn't. nowhere near the level that i do," subspace spits, venom dripping from every harsh word. he's the one who's poured all of his dead heart into shaping you into the perfect performer, carefully planning everything so that it would be you as the main character, and this cretin thinks he has a right to your heart?

unacceptable.

his eye almost appears closed from how hard he's squinting as he beckons, "come to me."

you obey. there's no other choice, is there?

once you're standing before him, subspace's voice immediately falls into fawning and sorrow, "oh, my invention of music.. you've been desecrated…!!" distraught, he paws at you from the other side of the mirror, comforting you through the glass. though, the patronizing act only makes you more uncomfortable.

"that disgusting demon… eyeing you up and down and touching you as he pleases…" his open palm then curls into a tight fist, tone quickly souring again, "i'll turn his horns into stage props!!" 

you tremble at the threat. the phantom has a kick for the theatrics, but that just means all of his impossible execution ideas are very much within the realm of possibility. and while he's thrown a few silly tantrums here and there, getting into fits over a note you struggle to hit or ripping apart his compositions in frustration, never have you seen him this enraged like now.

"phantom.. no, please, he's just—" 

he pinches the bridge of his nose, "goodness, how many times am i meant to remind you?"

"..subspace, ("much better!") me and him are.. friends. i beg of you, please, don't hurt him." if he somehow didn't notice your clear hesitation, he didn't say anything.

but he does say this:

"my invention," he draws his words out, slow and clear. "you do not have time for friends in the path i will pave for you." it's hard to hold his gaze when he looks at you so intently. somehow, he's able to perfectly replicate the fear from being yelled at without raising his voice at all.

you swallow thickly, and it feels like a rock inching down your throat.

subspace's voice returns to something kinder, shoulders relaxing. "and aren't i enough? look at me, my muse."

the best you can do is settle your eyes on his mask. he begrugdingly accepts this.

his hand rests over his heart, like pledging an oath. "i would do anything for you. i have done everything for you. and i will continue to do so, though you turn from me to glance behind at insignificants. under my care, you will thrive." he reaches to you again, yet still unable to touch.

you grip your hand tightly with the other, and subspace spies you rolling back your bottom lip to bite it. something ticks in him at the sight of you being so tense and tight-lipped around him when you were such a bright chatterbox mere moments ago. he sighs, a heavy and exasperated sound. you are such a handful when you remember other inphernals other than him exist.

"come along, we must proceed to our lesson."

only when subspace stops appearing in your mirror do you look up, just in time to see the glass opening like a door to reveal a torch-lit cobblestone hallway. at the end lay darkness, but it isn't the unknown. you've travelled down here numerous times, ran your fingers along the etched grooves in the stone walls. perhaps you really have lost it if you're actually getting used to entering eerie hallways.

come now, you know better than to keep the phantom waiting. first goes your right foot, then your left.

and then you're gone.

(parade postscript: hihihi!! i was actually super happy that someone 1. remembered that post and 2. actually wanted me to write it so here it is!! this is mainly based off of the 2004 rendition of the film because thats the only one i watched, plus some creative liberties taken with the interactions between phantom & christine and christine & raoul because i was kinda going based off of memory + wikipedia summarization,, in the actual movie they dont talk nearly as long with each other im just making them talk for content lawl

i chose this scene specifically because i didnt really want to write a scene at the climax because thats awkward, and i wanted to use a scene that properly introduced the reader's individual relationships with subspace and medkit

also the flowers in medkits bouquet have meanings!! flowers have like a million different meanings for one fkin flower but these are the meanings i used tulips represent perfect and deep love white roses represent purity and innocence (because medkit's love for reader is pure and sweet, as opposed to subspace's), and red roses obviously mean passion and love and desire respectively. when given together they mean unity!! amaranths represent never fading feelings, because medkit has had romantic feelings for reader since they were both younger

the pink roses were just in the original scene, and there was a shit load of em which is why i chose to describe them so theres not really any purposeful symbolism behind them but they are often associated with admiration and affection

also also i tried to change up my writing style a little this time around!! dont know if its that noticable hope its still okay lol

sigh i know i said id make these shorter, but its very hard to condense the PHANTOM OF THE OPERA)

[pearlescentparade]

oh my god i took liek genuineky an hour to write the postscript for that work