scorpionandgrasshopper

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

Hypothetically speaking, let's say that someone from the cooking staff accidentally caught a glimpse of you one day and immediately realized that you were not a ghost but a man and that, hypothetically speaking, they decided to make some beignets for the cast and crew for working as hard as they can and the person just so happened to want to make a special batch for you...would you want some? Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Well, hypothetically, if someone were to hypothetically do that... That person may hypothetically find themselves rewarded in kind with sweets or another gift. In other words, hypothetically... Yes.

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

I love your Kerik and Cherik . They are so cute. Would you draw more of them? Maybe with they’re „pets“?

welcome to kerik’s daycare service

((and thank you!! I think they’re my favorite duo tbh so I’d love to draw more of them together))

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

ALW Fans: “Ugh, Final Lair hurts SO BAD!” Me, having just watched Yeston/Kopit: “...You have no idea what pain is.”

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

//I spent the last decade of my life feeling super weird for liking Phantom so much Now I’ve joined two streaming groups and a discord full of like minded people and it feels... validating? Like I’m not weird? This is an odd new feeling.

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

//why is this me reading my old rps

*re-reads own fics when having writer’s-block* Wow I wish I could write like this :/

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

xweofmanyfaces‌:

     His words were simple and small though they rang true, and she could swear that his enchanting voice rang throughout the field around them. How was it that their world was falling apart a little over a week ago and now everything was different? How was it that things have changed so rapidly? A few days ago he was almost afraid to touch her, a few days ago she was fearful of him never forgiving her and leaving her behind. How have they come to this point? Here they stood, hand-in-hand, one signature away from being husband and wife. The part of her that worried constantly, the anxious child that still kicked and screamed inside of her, feared that in the very last moment everything would explode. That in the very last moment before the ink was left to dry, he would regret his decision and decide that love and obsession were two different things, that he held no love for her as she once had believed. 

     She had believed herself to be his muse, thought that his love for her ran no deeper than any teacher with their student. Such a thought had broken her heart, caused an anguish in her that she had never properly expressed to him and feared she would feel forever. And even more so, she worried that the last night at the opera house would repeat itself, that the little world they created together on stage would once more come alive between them in this field only for them to be surrounded by police and her former fiancé, everything about to come crashing down. But there were no guns, there were no whistles, there was no one but him.

     When he leaned in to kiss her softly, it felt different, as if their minds were connected as one. They had kissed plenty of times since their first kiss, each of them passionate and meaningful. Each kiss was as if it was like the first and the last, though this one felt heavier somehow. This was not just a kiss between lovers, this was a kiss between husband and wife, it was the first kiss that would start the rest of their lives, the one that signified that against all odds they had found each other and won. No the path had not been easy, the journey here had been filled with so much pain but she would do it all again and risk everything just for this chance to be with him. 

     And as he kissed her, she raised a hand that now adorned a simple wedding ring, caressing his mask as though she could convince herself that he would be able to feel it on his warm skin beneath it. She loved him so dearly she thought perhaps no one in the world had ever loved another person as much as she loved him, as if God himself had created the concept of love just for them, a beautiful thing made of stardust and music that they could hold in their hands and keep close to their hearts, in hopes that they would never be parted. If she had it her way, they would never be apart again.

     She watched him kneel down to sign the contract, feeling a sense of pride swell in her stomach as he signed his newfound name. She thought it a fitting for him, since she believed his face to be even more beautiful than her own because it was his face, because it was the face of the man that had stolen her heart. And when it was her turn, her heart was beating rapidly, so hard she thought it might break her ribs. With one signature, everything would change. But of course, everything had already been changed hadn’t it? Their lives were changed permanently the moment she put her hand in his own and asked him to take her away from everything she knew, their lives had changed permanently when she accepted his proposal, their lives have changed forever the moment they crossed paths with each other for the very first time. 

     But perhaps the feeling she felt inside of her wasn’t change, but permanence. Once she wrote her name down, she would be his forever and no one can change that, not even someone from Paris, someone from her old life that would perhaps want her back, nothing could change this. Once they belong to one another, as true in law as they did in heart, nothing and no one could separate them ever again. It was a knowledge she kept deep in her heart as she took the quail in hand, her stomach flipping excitedly and hopefully. As she knelt down beside the contract as well, signing her name in beautiful delicate letters, each letter seeming to be a scratch closer to truly never having to say goodbye to him again. And the second the last letter of her name was signed, she knew their life together was real. He was her husband and she was his wife, they were married, and she didn’t think she could possibly be happier if she tried.

     When he said he hoped it was everything she wished for, she couldn’t help staring at him, didn’t he know how perfect all of this was? She sat on her knees beside him, reaching out to hold his face with both hands “It was everything I wanted because you were here, because it’s you that I married. We could’ve been in a barn and wearing rags and I would’ve been the happiest and luckiest woman in the world, because I am loved so wonderfully by you,“ she said, her smile bright and her skin buzzing almost. When he handed the glass to her, she lowered to sit properly on the ground beside him, taking it in her hand. “ I see all the beauty in the world in it,“ she promised him. “I married the love of my life under the stars, he took me by the hand and promised that I would never lose him or his love. What could possibly be more beautiful than that? What could possibly be more beautiful than a life with you? My love I don’t care how small or how extravagant a ceremony may be, just as I don’t care how long and painful the journey here may have been. The only thing that matters to me is that at the end of the day, you’re mine and I’m yours,“ she said, reaching up to gently hold his chin for a minute, smiling at him. 

     “Dear Lord… How did I become so beautifully lucky? To be so dearly loved by such an angel… I think perhaps I dreamed you up once and you crawled right out of my mind, to save me from my sorrows. I didn’t know I could love you more than I did yesterday, or the day before. But I know that I do now, and then I will love you more each day for as long as we live, until the meaning of the word love has changed completely, though I know that no woman has ever loved a man as much as I love you and no one ever will,” she said. 

     At his words she smiled even brighter, sipping from the glass he had given her “What greater gift could you possibly have for me? I already have you. Though I wouldn’t say no to a gift from my husband,” she teased, though truly she just wanted to use the word husband out loud, as if it made it more real somehow. 

The world had flipped on its axis, hadn't it? This was another life, a storybook on the shelf. Was this even reality? Had nature ever seemed so beautiful? Had the moon ever shined this brightly? No, perhaps not. Perhaps the world itself was bowing before the magic of this night. Their wedding night. In a few hours time, the sun would rise in a symphony of colors and their life together would begin. Erik had no idea what that life would look like. In all of his fantasies, he hadn't ever dreamed of actually getting to this moment. She had signed herself away to him, no going back now. He couldn't help the small smile into his wine glass. He had been wrong before - this was the point of no return. Now she was stuck with him forever... Why was that exciting and frightening and comforting all at the same time?

Husband. The word he hadn't quite grasped yet. He had never thought of himself as a husband - that would have meant he had given himself thought in the first place. But that word off of her lips... It felt good. Like throwing another log into the fire in his heart. Erik decided in that moment that he quite liked that word. Husband. He could hear that word off of her lips forever... "You see, I wanted to give you a wedding gift. I know we don't have much right now, but I wanted you to have something private. Something that was just yours, just for tonight." He had thought of it the other night, after they had checked out of the inn and continued on their journey. He elegantly finished off the rest of his wine and leaned back onto his hands, looking up at the moon. Why did this make him so nervous? ...Perhaps because he hadn't done this for her in such a long time...

Erik carefully watched the moon, took a breath, and began to sing. "I en evighet levde jag som om du inte fanns I alla drömmar var du ändå nära så underbart nära. Och jag trodde jag fann dig men du var någon annanstans. Varenda gång jag funnit nån så såg jag att drömmen inte var sann. Tänk alla famnar jag lämnat av längtan till dig. För jag trodde att du fanns och väntade mig alla dagar jag vandrat så sorgsen och trött. För att möta den vackraste människa jag någonsin mött."

He didn't know much Swedish, but he had heard the song some time ago. It was usually sung a bit faster, with accompaniment, but he did the best he could do. He knew of her life before the opera house, though not much. He knew a rough translation of the lyrics, but his grasp on the language was only fundamental. He sung of how he thought she was a dream at first, and even when he thought he had her, she wasn't his. How he waited, and how heaven opened itself when she allowed him into her life. Now that they were together, it was better than he ever dreamed. He hadn't sung to her in such a long time... Not since that first night he brought her to his home.

And yet she always sung for him, always for other people. He wanted to give her this - he had learned a song just for her. "Det var enkelt och vackert du sa att du väntat mig. Jag kunde ana att det fanns en himmel på jorden jag såg den. Och du bad mig att leva mitt liv alltid nära dig. Jag följde dina steg och allt jag någonsin drömt om fanns där för mig..."

He let the song end quietly. That's why he picked it - there was no crescendo, no high note, nothing glamorous or special really. But it was truly how he felt about her and what he wished for their lives - to be a quiet, private sort of beautiful. Something that they could share for the rest of their lives. He let his eyes fall to his lap, smiling sheepishly. "I know it's no replacement for home... But I wanted you to know how much I care for you. I hope my Swedish wasn't too awful." He shot her a look, hoping she'd take his words in jest. He wanted her to know that she mattered to him - not just because she was beautiful or because of her voice. He sang to her this way because he wanted to feel like home to her. Even if they were so far from anywhere either of them had called home, even though they were the only survivors of their bloodlines - He wanted this to feel like home.

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

xweofmanyfaces‌:

     She smiled as he kissed her hand, pleased that he liked his new name. “It is the least I could do, after being given a gift as precious as your heart,” she said softly, her own heart racing in her chest. She longed for this moment, knowing that truly they had once more found their way back to the point of no return. She begged God himself that hell would not rain down upon them as before, that no one would tear them apart at the last minute. She could not live with the sorrow if it all went down hill now. She knew that she had always been a rather selfless woman, but she wanted nothing more than to embrace how selfish she felt now, wanting only to keep him and never give him up.

     Christine smiled ad he slid the ring onto her finger, taking both his hands as he began to speak his vows. And what beautiful vows they were, perfect in every way, his words so beautiful they made her eyes water. It was every promise she had ever wanted from him, every hope that she held silently within herself and had never dared to speak. Everything he said, everything he promised, was her heart’s greatest desire. The life with him, the one she saw splayed out before them like splattered paint on a blank canvas of possibility, was exhilarating and new. She had never been truly excited for the future before, but now seemed as wonderful a time as any to truly become excited about life, especially when she finally had someone to walk into that life hand in hand with. 

     “I, Christine Daae,” she began, only allowing herself to only dwell on the knowledge that this was the last time she would ever be able to admit that name to have been her own, having to hide it from now on for their own safety. She only allowed it to be a thought for a mere second, so as not to grow sad. “Vow to love you and cherish you for the rest of my days, just as I will protect you and defend you until my very last breath. I promise here in the first steps of our life together, before God, that I will be yours for always. I promise to stay with you in the good and bad moments of life, to care for you and treasure you with every ounce of my being. My Angel, my love, I swear to you that I will never let you go. I will share each night and morning with you, will hold your hand as we walk through this world side by side. I promise, to love you even when you’re grumpy,” she said, a gentle laugh leaving her lips. 

     “To sleep on your chest even when it is too warm to be held, to sing for you even when there is no song to sing and to mother your children, even when they have children of their own. My beautiful Erik, my angel of music…” she breathed, a tear rolling down her cheek as her heart filled with so much love it made her chest ache. “I vow to never say goodbye to you, ever again. That you will never know a day without me here, beside you, wanting you and needing you. That anywhere you go, I will be right there beside you.  And that so long as I live and breathe, nothing shall ever tear us apart. And that even death cannot stop me from loving you…forever.”

When he finished, he exhaled a breath he hadn't even been aware he had been holding. It had been everything he had ever held inside himself to say to her. As he felt the lightness in his chest, he listened. He drank in every single word she spoke and let it all wash over him. How sweet this woman was to him, to swear to stand by him forever. Forever seemed so long now, much longer than before. A lifetime with a wife, a lover... A friend. How depressing that was, that he hadn't even a lifelong friend before her. Erik wanted nothing more than to protect her. And how good she was to him! He would have been satisfied to sit beside her, never even touching her hand, but she wanted to kiss him! And make love with him! And bear his children! Those ideas alone could have driven him mad. Children. And children's children! A family. Christine was Erik's wife, but she was also his family now. Before that very moment, standing in that clearing, Erik had never considered that marrying Christine made her his family. Somehow, that thought brought him as much joy as the thought of marrying her!

Erik let her finish as well as he could, but her words stirred something in him. "My wife." It was the only words he could manage before he leaned forward to kiss her. He knew it was his imagination, but this kiss felt weightier, like it mattered somehow more than the others. Nothing would ever feel better and simultaneously worse than the first kiss she had given him. But this... She was his wife. Said their vows before God, she was wearing his ring! He didn't let it go farther than a soft kiss, not in that moment. He cemented every single detail to memory, as though it could all slip away in an instant. She could beg him to leave at any time, and after all of this, he would let her. Happily, he would let her. He would give her anything she wished for, likely without question. More happiness than he had ever felt in his life, likely combined, in just one moment. His Christine, his wife, his everything...

He parted from her, only to kiss the ring that now adorned her left hand. "My darling, I sign this as a promise that my word is true." He quickly knelt down to sign the contract, his new full name in a tight, looping script. "Make sure you sign with your maiden name, darling. It'll be the last time, I promise." The words hit him rather strangely. She would always been Christine Daae to him, no matter how long they were married. He knew, consciously, that she was now Christine Belshaw in the legal and social sense... But her maiden name was special to him. It was the name that had inked itself upon his heart. While she had chosen their new surname, was she at all upset about losing her own family name? Perhaps they could pass it on as a middle name or some such thing to their children. He didn't have any family names himself that he was at all interested in passing along. He couldn't help but smile a touch at the thought. She had named her husband - she could probably name their children as well.

He sat back instead of standing again, thankful for the blanket he had thought to get. Just a nice quilt, something they could use once the weather got cold. There were so many emotions flowing through his head. He was happy, relieved, overwhelmed, at a complete loss, and hopeful. "I hope... I hope this was all you wished for." He reached back for the small basket and carefully uncorked the wine. "I know it's not-" Now wasn't the time for negativity. "Everything I do, I do it for love. I hope you see the same beauty in this as I do." He poured them each a glass and offered it to her. He was wary and careful to keep her dress white as moonlight now. She'd wear that dress again someday and he'd remember everything he felt as he read those vows and kissed her. It was such an odd feeling, standing on the thin line between who he used to be and who he would become. An odd sort of limbo, but a happy one. "I have a gift for you, if you'd like it."

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

xweofmanyfaces‌:

     His reaction after he had turned around made her cheeks tint pink, swearing she could feel the warmth of the blush creeping down her neck. She had seen plenty of lovely dresses when she went into the city today, ones both of white and not. But this one had called to her, had whispered her name so as to speak. When she was a young girl, she would often picture what her wedding dress would look like once she found a man to marry. Of course, it was a common theme among young girls, planning the wedding of their dreams years before love had ever even come into their life. She had pictured something so different once when she was little, had dreamed of a ball gown almost like a princess in a storybook. She had dreamed of violins playing and of dancing with her father. She had dreamed most of all of the man she would marry. She would admit that once upon a time she had imagined that man to be Raoul, when she was his sweet heart as children. They even pretended once or twice that they were to be married, that he was hers and she was his. But even then, something was missing.

     This was nothing like she had pictured as a child, but she knew it was the only thing that would feel right. No, she wasn’t wearing the wedding dress of royals. No, she wouldn’t be given away by her father. No, there weren’t any witnesses. But what more could she need when she had Erik? Even the stars themselves paled in comparison to his wonder. Who cared what dress she wore, as long as it was he who saw her in it? Why would she need violins when the only music she wanted to dance to was the sound of the night settling around them? How could she even think, even as a child, that Raoul ever would have been what she wanted to see on a day like this? No, no he never would have been. No man ever would have been enough but Erik, not even a fraction of his perfection could be captured by the will of others. This was everything she wanted, everything she needed in a wedding day. Her Angel and their life laid out before them. Nothing could be more perfect. 

     “Thank you,” she said, biting her lower lip as a smile began to grow on her face, a bashful one at that. But even that action could not hide how wide she smiled at him, how happy she looked. “Moonlight becomes you, my love,” she said, her hands locking behind her back to help her stand straighter as she rocked on the heels of her feet for a moment while looking at him. “How am I supposed to focus long enough to marry you when simply staring at you comes so easily?” she asked, settling back on her feet once more. 

     She had settled back on her feet just in time, seeing as he wrapped his arms around her and seemed to almost scoop her up. She squealed happily and wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling as she pressed her forehead to his. “We have far from nothing, Angel. We have each other, and that is worth everything,” she promised, resisting the urge to kiss him, as if perhaps they should save it for the moment they were husband and wife. But oh how tempted she was to kiss him, how aware she was that after this night, there would truly be no more goodbyes, that no one could tear them apart even if by some horrible stretch of the imagination the police or Raoul found them. After tonight, they would be married and no one could split them up.

     As he put her down she kissed his cheek, her hand slipping into his so easily. She followed him to the make shift altar, her eyes falling to the ring he presented her with. “Oh Erik…it’s perfect,” she said with a bright smile. She looked up into his eyes and held her left hand up for him “I will only wear it if you will put it on me, and then I shall never take it off so long as I live,” she promised. When he spoke of a name her smile became warm “I wanted something that would fit you, since traditionally it is your name I would take. So I didn’t go looking for a name to fit me, I looked for one that fit you. I wanted one that I thought would fit you perfectly, one that really meant something to match the man I love,” she said, her other hand squeezing his own. “Your name is Erik Belshaw,” she informed him, her eyes seeming to sparkle with a love she had never shown another before. “Your name is Belshaw…because it means beautiful face,” she said, her hand letting go of his and coming up to cup his cheek. “And I could think of no name more fitting for my husband, no truer name than that.”

One day, Erik would give her a ceremony like she deserved. Neither of them seemed to be fond of the large social gatherings or the unnecessary lavish decor, but she deserved music and an officiant and people she cared about. This felt so intimate, almost similar to their first time together. Intimacy came in all kinds, it seemed, and they were all new to Erik. He had never put much thought into his own wedding day, since he never thought it would come. He did have affinities for comedies, since they always ended in weddings. Such nice flowers and music and the romance of the whole thing... After Christine had begun to speak to him, he found himself much more lost in those romantic scenes. He pictured her so often in the leading roles, perhaps simply because the leads would kiss and run off together and pledge their love so passionately. The thought of her kissing the other leads barely even bothered him back then, simply because he knew he could never do it. Now, here she was. And they were at the end of their own shakespearian epic, full of twists and love triangles and epic escapes.

What would they do after such a wedding? He had hoped they could rest there and drink wine to watch the sunrise over the hills before he showed her the small house he had procured for them. It had been easier than he thought - it had belonged to a young man who's wife passed from fever. Erik only had to promise that he would check in on his blind elderly mother who lived a stretch down the road, and send word if there was any problems with her. The poor bastard seemed desperate to leave the house. And it was modest enough, hopefully good enough for her. He hadn't quite figured out how they would make money, but they were artists - they could manage. Was it enough for her? He wished he had had more time... At least it wasn't the underground. Christine deserved sunshine and open air, and he was determined to give it to her. Maybe after the first few years, she could start singing again. For just a moment he toyed with the idea of disguising her somehow; to touch her looks in any way was a crime. She was his angel and he would provide for her or die trying.

He listened carefully to her words, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. Belshaw, hm? He rolled it around in his head a bit, deciding how he felt. At her explanation, he bit his tongue to keep from smiling too widely, preferring to stare into her eyes rather than blush if he could help it. Erik Belshaw. It didn't sound French, which was probably a good thing. Definitely a French origin, but a more British version. It didn't sound Scandinavian either, though Erik was quite sure he had heard the name in a text about Old Norse families. Yes, it was definitely European, but the origin was vague enough that they could blend in anywhere they decided to go. He pressed his lips to her palm gratefully. "My own mother never even gave me a name. You've given me the greatest gift, my love. Thank you." He wanted nothing more than to rush forward to kiss her over and over, to make up for every kiss he had ever been denied, to erase his entire life in favor of this new one with her. But he had things he must say and do before then.

He slipped the ring on her finger. He had had most of the day to think of vows, though they hadn't discussed them. "I, Erik Belshaw," He quirked a small smile at the sound of his new name. "Vow to protect you, love you, honor you, and support you for the rest of my life. I make this promise before God, before nature, and before destiny. Whatever life may bring, Christine, whether it be riches and great health or poverty and sickness, I will never waver from my place at your side. Every note I play will be for you, every action I make with you in mind, every word from my lips will be truthful and kind to you. I promise you my very life, my body, my being - my soul, Christine Daae. I swear that nothing in the world shall keep us apart after this moment. I pledge to you my living and my dying, equally in your care, and above all to trust you with every part of me. My angel... I love you, and I vow to be your husband until death do we part."

Death used to be such a friend to Erik. They walked beside each other as friends as Erik waited for the day he would make his move. But since he had run away with Christine, he found death a stranger. No further thoughts of the peace death may bring - rather the happiness that Christine would bring him. Part of his soul would always belong to the darkness - to sin and anger and lust and the macabre. However, he saw none of those things when he looked at Christine. She was wildflowers and ocean breezes and warm summer months. He could learn to love those things again as he did once. Light felt no longer cold and unfeeling. Light was a warm, soft, beautiful woman he wanted to kiss for the rest of his life.

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

High frequency, multiship, multiverse, etc. Looking for more threads.

A Brand New Independent Phantom Roleplay Blog. Open to any and all who may be interested. 

~ I remain your obedient servant, O.G. ~

Keep reading

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

//why is plotting 1x1 so much easier than in groups like im so nervous to be like “BIG PLOT THING” because... I’m new. But then with this blog I’m like “yeah lets kill people or get married or whatever”

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

xweofmanyfaces‌:

     It had been one of the craziest weeks of her entire life, by far. And that’s saying a lot considering Christine had never lived a relatively boring life. All in the matter of the last seven days her angel had come to take her away and she had abandoned her fiancé and all of her friends, leaving Paris altogether in search of a new life with him. They had gone on the run, gotten engaged, started sleeping together and now here they were in another town. And here they were, finally able to get married. Erik had charged her with the important job of coming up with their new last name, the name that would be his own that she would take, and she had spent a chunk of the day reading looking for a good name that she thought matched her beloved phantom. And when she finally found it, she could think of no other name that fit him better. 

     He hadn’t really told her what he had sold, though she imagined that at least half of it was stolen. But she understood that until they got into a settled life, things would be a bit difficult, and selling stolen items could be a big part of that. She had deeply appreciated the fact that he had given her money to get a new dress, one that would technically be her wedding dress. But she wanted to get a dress that would be livable, one she could wear any day and feel special, not just like a bride. Though she didn’t want anything too fancy, she still wanted something that fit nicely that he would think was beautiful.  She wanted to wear white, even though she knew the tradition of a bride wearing white was usually associated with virgins and neither of them was a virgin anymore. It was still tradition, and she did it because she thought somewhere, up in Heaven, her father would be watching her get married and that he would want to see her getting married in a white dress. The dress was simple, t flowing skirt and loose sleeves. It was pretty, but most importantly it had a white ribbon tied around the middle. Christine loved white ribbons.

     She would admit, she was filled with so many emotions. Every day she woke up she thought this was a dream, a beautiful and wonderful dream that she never wanted to leave. She was emotional at the idea that the moment they signed this paper that meant no more goodbyes, they would never have to be parted ever again. But even if by some horrible stretch of the imagination, Raoul or Meg or the police caught up to them, they could never separate them because they would be legally married. Nobody could stop them, not after tonight. She thought in a way, not only was the law on their side but so was God. No one would take her sweet angel away from her, not after tonight. She would bind herself to him for the rest of her life, would be by his side forever. Perhaps one day she would leave a note for Meg, one without a return address, to let her and her mother know that she was safe and that she was happier than she had ever been. A part of her felt the urge to write a letter to Raoul, but she thought perhaps that would only make things worse. She knew if she ever wrote to Meg she would make her promise to never tell anyone she had heard from her, she would rather be presumed dead than ever found. She didn’t want her new life with the man she would soon call her husband, to be ruined or interrupted. Their future was meant to be beautiful, not haunted by the past.

     She looked down at herself after changing into her new dress, smiling softly as she ran her hands over her hips. She hoped he would like it, she picked it out just for him. She looked around the walls of the cottage, smiling a little bit. It was a nice place, perhaps when they finally settled and found a home of their own, it would be something similar to this, something small and sweet and simple, a good place to raise children with a lot of nature nearby so they could have plenty of adventures. She wasn’t nervous, not really, though marriage made most girls nervous. But Christine had never been more ready for anything in her entire life, and that was why she couldn’t stop smiling. She took a deep breath and glanced at the dress she had left beside her that she had just changed out before heading back out of the cottage, watching as her fiancé stared at the sky. His back was to her so she would be happy to know that the dress would be a surprise until she got to him. She smiled to herself and walked over to him, holding her hands behind her back for a moment as she bobbed on the heels of her feet before reaching up and tapping him on the shoulder “Turn around,“ she said, a slight giggle of happiness in her voice, her cheeks blushing as she waited to hear if he approved of her dress. She really hoped he would.

The world was so quiet here. How could life be so beautiful out here? Why did he spend so much time in the city? He hated it, quite honestly. The convenience was good and it was easy to hide, but so suffocating. You didn't see stars like these in the city. You never heard the evening birds or summer frogs. The quiet of the fields was a lot for him at first. The last time he had ever been in a place like this was when he was a child - his family home was in a tiny village in the south, with stone walls and wildflowers and a brook running through his yard. He doubted that home was even there anymore - he hadn't been back since before he had hidden in the opera house.

Her soft tap on his shoulder interrupted him from his thoughts. Turning, his lips parted in surprise. "Christine..." The way that dress seemed to glow in the bright light of the moon was... There wasn't quite a word for it. She was ethereal, a goddess, a queen of faeries. And she was his. Soon to be, anyway. "You look beautiful, mon amour..." That word didn't even begin to describe how she looked. Was this really going to happen? Was it not simply a cruel dream? She looked like moonlight itself in that dress - he could have written sonatas about how it flowed about her form like wisps of night air. He bent down a bit and lifted her in his arms, holding her close to him. A goddess, in flesh, and she was his. "How is it that even when we have nothing, you still give me everything?"

He let her down gently and took her hand in his own gently, gesturing to the small set up "altar" that he had created. "Come here, darling." Something about this felt more official than any event in a house or before a court or with any witnesses. It felt intimate and quiet - as if the only entity with them was God himself. Erik had never been a religious man, but he knew how much it all meant to Christine. No, God had abandoned Erik the minute that he had let him walk the earth so clearly unfinished. There was a certain calmness to the whole idea, though. The idea perhaps there was someone or something looking out for people when they couldn't look out for themselves was attractive, he had to admit. At the moment, however, there was only one Goddess he cared for.

He guided her to stand on the blanket before the rock with the paper and took both of her hands. "I have something for you... It's a bit late, but I hope you will wear it." He carefully reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gold ring with a small gemstone. "It reminded me of your eyes..." Why was he so nervous about this? It all felt so real... This was really happening. He had to constantly remind himself of that. "I would take vows... But I don't know the name you've chosen for me to give you." For them to share. Forever.

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

//Just being clear... Erik is the bad guy. I’m just uncomfortable playing him Leroux levels of crazy (perhaps on special occasions). Like, I think he could have been a good guy, but he was definitely the bad guy in the situation given. Period.

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

Hey remember when JOJ cursed out Nicky Adams?

“No! No! Ughh! Fuck you! You lying bitch!!”

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

//Just went over some questionnaires for my D&D players for the new campaign and one of them wrote:

“Large facial burn, covering most of the left side of his face”

and i went

I’m sorry, like was that meant as a call out or??? Because that feels really specific to me and my interests.

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

//I was reminded of another headcanon... If we had Norm Lewis as the Phantom, when tf is Christine being played by a person of color? Think about it - makes sense why all the white people doubt her and make fun of her, why it’s so scandalous for Raoul to love her so much, and (if the Phantom is also a person of color) it would be another thing that connects them as outsiders in a harsh world. Idk, I think about this a lot. Adds some layers to the story.

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

Earl Carpenter & Katie Knight Adams

[scorpionandgrasshopper]

//Listen we stan Ramin on this account, but I decided to look into other Phantoms. Hugh is a dream of a human, Michael is lovely...

But I am Ben Crawford as a human being. What a chaotic bean.