#i would risk it all for giri

[spaceagebachelormann]

Hello! If you’re taking headcanon requests, may I please request headcanons for what Count Dracula & Erik the Phantom would be like as husbands?

dracula and erik as husbands !

✧ warnings — some mentions of death and possible spoilers for dracula and phantom of the opera. also like 2 sexual jokes i think

✧ additional info — i got so so excited by this request omg <3 if u wanna id rlly appreciate it if u sent me more requests for phantom of the opera and classic monsters!! also not really specific versions of them but i mainly had the book versions in mind

✧ m.list — nav.

ೃ༄ erik destler

he wouldn’t wait to marry you

like at all

the second you show him you’re willing to be in a relationship with him and he’s sure you won’t leave him he’s already planning your wedding

of course if you wanted to take it more slowly he might be a little impatient but he’d try his best for you :)

but he’d be so happy if u were ready to get married as soon as possible

the sad thing is he’d get so stressed while trying to plan it because he’d want it to be absolutely perfect because that’s what he didn’t get with christine

and he’d try to convince you not to worry about it or help plan the wedding becaus he wants it to be a surprise for you

however he’d talk to you about what you want <3

so unfortunately he doesn’t know a lot of people 😭 so your wedding audience consists of daroga, mme giry, and maybe christine and raoul if ur lucky and manage to convince them (but they’ll be a little on edge)

and u can invite ur family if they’d be accepting of erik!

once y’all are married it’s so sweet and romantic ohmygod

he’d make u breakfast and dinner every single day, even if he’s had a particularly bad day

he just loves doing things for you

he’d also love writing even more songs and sometimes even entire operas for you or about you, you’re his muse

before he was able to take breaks from bis work to focus on you for awhile

but now you’re married he just can’t be away from you for two minutes

will sit on the floor and talk to u while u shower

or he showers with u

his love language is spontaneously twirling u around and redoing ur wedding dance in the most random places

also carrying u to ur bed if u fall asleep on him or somewhere else, before marriage he’d just let u sleep there and make sure he doesn’t wake u up

such a sweetheart <3

ೃ༄ count dracula

takes his time to marry you

but that’s only because he takes a lot of time working out when and where to propose and shit

and then probably has the wedding planned before you even say yes

which obviously you do

he’d be a little cocky abt u saying yes ngl cause he already knew u would

but the wedding itself obviously takes place at night and mainly other vampires will show up, but he won’t let them remotely near you assuming he hasn’t turned you yet

if he has then go talk to them!! there’s no risk of u dying or getting turned by someone else!!

he’d also rlly like cooking for u and shit since he canonically had to sprint around his castle to make it seem like he had butlers or whatever 😭😭

how good is fucking amazing btw

like god damn

and obviously he has a comfortable ass vampire bed that he’d let u put 60 pillows on if u want

he’d also like have a thing for ur hair no matter how short or long it is

he likes standing behind u and running his hands through it when u do literally anything for funsies

and his fingers are really pretty and long and cold so they feel nice

he also brushes it a lot esp in the mornings

he also doesn’t even look another persons way when he’s with u

ever.

and his brides are now just. draculas sisters or wtv 😭

unless u want them to be ur wives too he won’t complain

as much as he loves you there’s time where he js like. wants personal time to go kill people think

id also imagine ur very close with renfield

like draculas kinda mean to him but ur rlly nice to him <3

like for example waving at him when u see him or just going “hi renfield!!”

renfields probably the one who found u ngl

i can’t think of anything else for him mb pookie 😔 i’ll add to this later

[spicyboelives]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[noblevicartstudio08]

Okay. So. Was thinking of a way to fix "Love never dies," cause as it is, It sucks ass. For starters, we need to add a few things so that in the context of the original Phantom of The Opera, Love Never Dies should've never really happened. However, I think I've come up with a few ideas that could fix up the story and make LND make just a little bit more sense.

For starters, if you're gonna make Raoul villiainous, and make The Phantom the main love interest, give hints in the original play. In Phantom of The Opera, Raoul is still a spoiled rich boy, but he is still kind, loving, and cares for Christine so much that he is willing to risk his life for her. Home boy loved her through and through and it makes no sense for him to have this heel turn for literally no fucking reason. However, in the book, he was more whiny, entitled, and selfish, so if you implement more of those traits in the original Phantom of The Opera, then not only do you give Raoul more character but Love Never Dies makes more sense. Plus it gives that added tragic factor where Christine chooses Raoul over the Phantom in the end. So that would be the first thing I would do. Make Raoul a legit villainous character that wins in the end because The Phantom can't keep her. Hell, for added flavor, make Raoul responsible for some of the murders and pin it on The Phantom! That will also contribute to Raoul basking in his role as "The brave hero that slayed The Wicked Phantom and saved his childhood sweetheart."

Okay. Now onto The actual events of Love Never Dies.

I feel like Erik would take whatever riches he could and flee to America after the events of "Phantom of The Opera." He would become an anonymous poet, composer, and even an opera singer himself. His talents get him recognized in a smaller theatre on Coney Island where he thinks he can start his life anew. I think that Meg and Girys would still help him escape as they might have sympathy for him. Meg is a kind and gentle soul that Love Never Dies does DIRTY. So if she is going to have a new role, it's a support system for Erik. They help him craft a new identity and start a new life to cope with his heartbreak.

10 years later, Raoul, Christine, and Guastave move to Coney Island, with little Guastave wearing a mask that covers his entire face and his father giving him a dirty look. Yup. Raoul has a similar deformity to The Phantom when he was born and Raoul is not happy. He constantly accused Christine of going behind his back and, "whoring herself off to that hellspawn." When, no. No, it was sheer coincidence, or the gods above not giving poor Christine a break. At least The poor boy has his ever-loving mother to comfort and raise him while his father is getting drunk and gambling their money away. Things get so bad, that Gustave starts singing on the streets for cash as a street performer at night. Meg catches wind of Christine's financial situation and how Raoul has been treating her, so she gets a plan. She invites Christine to perform at the same theatre she's performing at along with her "new friend and colleague," Simon Rose. Upon meeting "Simon" she knows exactly who he is, but she keeps it to herself, but stays professional for her family's sake… and his. Simon does the same. However, upon seeing the love of his life again, he starts to spiral. He threatens to fall back into his old ways, and Raoul grows more and more suspicious with each passing day.

One night, Simon is walking the streets alone at night, when he sees Gustave performing for a few coins so the poor boy can buy groceries. Simon, feeling pity for the child as he was in the same position once, gives Gustave pretty much all the money in his wallet. Not only that, he takes the boy to a nearby park to perform a small song together on the park piano. Feeling comfortable with the child, he removes his mask showing the child his true face. Gustave is delighted and takes his off. Erik is the first person that's just like him. They share a tender bonding moment that has Gustave wishing Erik was his father instead of Raoul.

Alright. Alright. Because I am a slut for "Devil takes the hindmost" & "Devil takes the hindmost Quartet," I found a way to work into this version. After getting Gustave home safely, Erik is outraged at Raoul. Here is his poor son, begging strangers for money, while he's becoming a stinking drunk that practically burns through what little money they have. Erik confronts Raoul at the bar he's drinking at and the wadger is on. During Christine's next performance, if she doesn't sing, Raoul wins. He gets Christone, his family, and all the money to fill his pockets and pay off his gambling debt. If she does sing, Raoul leaves alone. Forever. The devil takes the hindmost. However, Raoul panics and tries to bring back that pretty boy charm to win Christine back. Something of note here. In "Before The Performance," The Phantom puts a diamond necklace on Christine. While it may appear to be a romantic gesture, similar movies like Moulin Rouge and Titanic portray this as an act of control and obsession for our female heroine. Like a diamond encrust collar or leash of sorts to tie them forever in a golden cage. I think this kind of thing would be better if it was Raoul putting the diamond necklace on Christine, using the last of his money in a last-ditch effort to secure his love before the show. It would also be more thematic if Erik came to her and took the necklace off her as he sings about her setting the music in her free. As for Devil takes the hindmost Quartet, Girys' lines would have to be changed, but you're gonna have to that. Just because I'm the firstborn of a lyricist doesn't mean I am one folk.

Christine chooses to sing. And love never dies can have a few meanings here. Not just love for Eric. But love for Gustave, Meg, herself, and The art of performing. Christine had to give up all of that except for Gustave after she married Raoul, but she takes back her life and choose her happiness for once instead of the happiness of others. After the performance, Erik runs up to her backstage and gives her a Hollywood-worthy kiss, dip, and all. They then give their short reprise version of "All I ask of you," but there's one problem… Where's Gustave? Erik and Christine panic, when Meg states she saw Raoul run off with Gustave towards the pier. Christine, Erik, Meg, and Girys all rush off to find Raoul and the poor child before something tragic happens.

Meanwhile, at the pier, Raoul debates whether to shoot little Gustave or drown in the ocean with him, all while the poor child is sobbing and pleading for his life. Erik and company show up just in time, but Raoul holds a gun to all of them, threatening to kill Gustave if they get any closer. It's there that Raoul hashes out all of his grievances, his insecurities, and his hatred towards Gustave. All he can see is "That Damned Hellspan," even though that's 100% biologically his son, he just has a similar deformity to Erik. Erik uses his skill to lasso the gun and Gustave away from Raoul and has the cruel drunk at his mercy. He's tempted to kill him right then and there, but then looks over to Christine and Gustave. His anger quells and Erik gets a bit of character development here. Because he now knows what real love is… It's taught him so much. Romantic. Familiar. Platonic. Self-love. It has changed him forever. It has taught him patience, kindness, empathy… and mercy. Erik harshly tells Raoul to board his cruise and leave. Never return. Raoul leaves like a dog with its tail between its legs as Erik comforts his family.

Time skips to an elderly Raoul lamenting about the woman he lost, and "has died," because while he still loves Christine, she's dead to him now. (You know, mirroring the beginning sequence of the original play~?) Meanwhile, on Coney Island, Erik, Christine, and Meg sit in the opera box and listen in awe as a grown-up Gustave's voice fills the opera house with a beautiful rendition of "Think of Me."

The end! This is… by no means perfect, and could DEFIDENTLY use some tweening, but this is what I got so far. Hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it and feel free to give me some feedback!

[onepiece-oc-archives]

Hello! Long time lurker of this blog here. I got into One Piece around the live action. I watched the anime and then the live action and now I’m obsessed and have to make a silly little OC to insert into the universe lol

So here’s my question: I’ve came up with a devil fruit for my OC and I’m worried it’s too close to some other characters.

The fruit is called the Twin-Twin fruit, (still no decided Japanese name) and it’s essentially allowing its user to create full bodied clones of themself. Typically the user can only make one or two clones or ‘twins’ at a time. And while the clones can move independently of the user, their movements are still controlled by the user and they are kind of based on the pun “can’t be in two places at once”.

A draw back of this fruit is the fact that the user can become physically and/or mentally wore out due to stretching themselves between the twins, hence why only one or two are the usual number. So if the user generated too many, or kept them active and out for too long, she would risk mental exhaustion, and physical exhaustion to the point of fainting.

Does this fruit seem too similar to some others? Or what could I do with it to maybe improve it? I honestly came up with it because of a concept of when my OC meets the straw bags initially she’s a waitress and after leaving their table two of her clones immediately serve them water and stuff and freaks them out or surprises them lol.

Love the blog!!

Hi! Glad to see you step out of the shadows. The more OCs the merrier!

First of all, I love your concept, specifically your OC's introduction to the Straw Hats. I can just imagine their shock lol

As far as canon fruits go, there are fruits that allow people to take on the appearance of other people or make a person look like a different person. As far as I know, none of those involve creating clones of themselves, at least not the way you describe it. So, you're completely safe there!

When we get to non-canon fruits, there is one that's a little more similar to your Twin-Twin Fruit, but it's from a stageplay from 2016, so I'd say there's very little chance of it becoming canon and getting in your way.

So, I say: Go for it! The concept is great and sounds like it would be really fun to play around with, and fun is what it's all about!

As a little bonus, I've gathered some Japanese name options for you, that way you don't accidentally name your Twin-Twin Fruit the same as an existing fruit and get upset about it later. You don't have to pick any of these, but maybe one of these options speaks to you:

Ari Ari no Mi ("to see clearly; to clearly see in one's mind's eye" - I figured this might work since your OC would have to visualize the clones/twins' movements and you said it puts a strain on their mind)

Giku Giku/Biku Biku no Mi ("surprise, startle"; I just thought it was funny because your OC startled the Straw Hats when she used her powers in front of them for the first time)

Chiro Chiro/Chiru Chiru no Mi (potentially "to scatter, to disperse", because your OCs more or less splits themselves up, right? At least mentally)

Giri Giri no Mi ("at the limit, to have no time or space to spare, barely" because of the exhausting side effects of the fruit)

Heto Heto/Hena Hena no Mi ("worn out, exhausted")

Jito Jito no Mi ("to stare, to look at with skepticism")

Miri Miri no Mi ("appearing, the appearance of something" for when the clones appear?)

Boku Boku/Ore Ore/Naiko Naiko no Mi (all three of these - boku, ore and naiko - are a way to say "I"; put them there twice and it's I twice, meaning two version of yourself, meaning clones i.e. how the fruit works)

I hope this answer helped and you have lots of fun with your OC and their concept!

[goodgriefwhatanerd]

So apparently the way to temporarily beat writer's block is to get incredibly unwell about an ugly sadboy from a 100+ year old book, then write self indulgent nonsense with absolutely no regard for quality.

So yeah I'm violently on my phantom bullshit, you have been warned.

The Giry boy was ushered into the managers’ office, holding a feather duster like a shield. “Sir?”

“Sit down, lad,” M. Richard said. “And tell us what you know about this ghost, hm?”

“It’s Maman who normally sees to him, sir. I don’t know what use I can be, having only talked to him a couple of times, mostly when she was ill last winter, sir. And of course the incident with Carlotta.”

“The incident with Carlotta?”

“That’s what I said, sir. There I was, moving some props on account of us changing shows that weekend, and I comes across Mme Carlotta arguing with thin air, so it seemed. This voice that seemed to come from all around – oh, he has such a pretty voice, it couldn’t belong to a mortal man – this voice was telling her something about breathing in higher staves or something. I’m not a musical man, so I can’t make sense of it. But Mme Carlotta, she was in a right old rage about it, damn near shouting at empty air.

“I just gets on with things on account of singers are a funny lot and I don’t want to involve myself with ‘em. But then the voice addresses me by name and asks for my opinion. Well I say to them as I said to you that I’m wouldn’t know a treble cleft from my own elbow, but if she’d forgive me for saying so, some of Carlotta’s high notes were rather, well, piercing.”

M. Richard drew a breath in between his teeth. “You told her that?”

“I did, sir, and she was not happy about it. Luckily for me, she was more offended by the ghost laughing like nobody’s business at my answer. I finished my job and left them still arguing. Aside from that it’s just been seeing to the box and the odd time I catch him coaching our Meg. She’s in the ballet,” he added by way of explanation.

“Do you mean to tell me that some man calling himself a ghost runs around this opera house telling our performers how to do their jobs, expects Box 5 to be reserved permanently for his use, and demands twenty thousand francs for the privilege?”

“Oh, no. Well, yes. But no. He’s. He’s the spirit of the opera. He gives training to people that he sees potential in, and every one of them that caught his eye went on to greatness. Sometimes a rich patron takes too much interest in a member of the chorus, and then that patron doesn’t come back. Or a sandbag falls down near a stage hand and it turns out the whole pulley system needs replacing before something fails and it kills someone. Keeping the phantom happy means the place keeps running smoothly. I wouldn’t like to find out what would happen if he stopped doing everything he’s paid to do, but I’d bet money that the damage would be more than twenty thousand francs.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “That could be taken as a threat, young man.”

Rowan gave a world weary sigh much older than he was. “No more than a warning against jumping into the Seine is a threat to drown you, sir. Now do you want any more information to discount or can I get back to work?”

Richard drew another heavy breath. His face turned purple. “You will no neither, boy! Consider yourself dismissed. I expect your things gone by the end of the day, along with your mother’s.”

Rowan seemed to turn to ice in the face of the manager’s ire, then unfroze in a flood of rage. “Oh good, I was struggling to hold my tongue in the face of your obstinate idiocy for quite long enough. The Angel of the Opera only cares about the show. He doesn’t give a damn about what some jumped up idiots with the money to keep the building think- No, shut up and listen,” he snapped as Richard started to object. “I’m easily replaced, others are not. Do you want to risk finding out exactly who is and isn’t expendable the hard way?”

“As manager, I’m the one who decides such things.”

Rowan slapped the table. “Non! Ferme ta bouche! I am trying to save your life, you stupid man. Do you want to be found hanged in the box that belongs to him? You do not own the opera; you merely pay for it. I only hope you can learn the lesson before it’s paid for in blood. But until then, one way or another, I think I’m well out of it. Good day.”

He left the office with what dignity he could, then ran as if trying to outpace the words that had left his mouth. The where didn’t matter, he just needed to be in a different place to wherever he was at any given moment.

Finally he was pulled up short by a familiar laugh and a slow round of applause.

“Congratulations, M. Giry,” the phantom said. “I was more entertained by you today than in a month of Carlotta’s performances.” He said the name with exaggerated disgust, earning the ghost of a smile in return. “However, there is one point upon which you were incorrect. You are necessary to the running of my opera and I have no intention of being without you for the weeks it may take me to resolve this matter. In the meantime, you will collect your wages directly from myself in Box 5 at the start of each evening’s performance.”

“That’s very kind of you sir. Um, but when there’s a show on I tend to be needed.”

“Indeed. Starting from this evening, you will be needed in Box 5.”

*

After another couple of shouting matches and another ignored threatening letter, something approaching a routine was found. M. Giry was reinstated in her position; her son was not.

Rowan was no longer welcome at the Opera House on paper, but was never stopped when coming or going through one of the numerous back entrances and side doors such a building was littered with. He would keep his passage to those areas too untidy and dust covered for the managers or those working directly under them to tread, and make his way to Box 5.

There, he would be invited to sit by a slim figure always hidden in shadow. The phantom gave him such a thorough education of each night’s opera that it could have come from a professor of the arts at the most prestigious of universities. After the final round of applause, they sat together as the audience filed out, discussing blocking and stagecraft – one of the few aspects of the art in which Rowan could intellectually hold his own. And then in the quiet auditorium, Rowan would sweep the floor, asking questions about metaphor and paratext to the empty air.

Later, he would sit with Meg and Christine in one of their dressing rooms, giggling and sharing secrets as they did as little girls, and on those nights he was happy. On others, he would find himself alone in his own room, beating down the pangs of jealousy he felt while Christine was tutored by the man who would always be her Angel of Music.

This was a lonely night, kept company by a flickering oil lamp and a generous armful of offcuts from the costume department. There was a meditative quality to it; organising the scraps by fabric weight and size, laying them out on the floor like puzzle pieces, trimming uneven edges down to fit together.

Rowan moved pieces around, muttering to himself the whole time. “I don’t hate myself enough to do pinwheels. Hm, would a diamond waistcoat look too harlequin? Come on, man, think. You’ve got enough triangular brocade scraps to make a really nice waistcoat that won’t look like it’s made out of rags if you just think this through.”

At length he sat down and let himself give voice to the thoughts he’d been avoiding. “There’s a metaphor in here somewhere. Meg and Lottie have the talent, they should get the beautiful dresses and show it to the world. They deserve it. It just doesn’t make it any easier on those of us left with the scraps. Nothing for it but to trim off you inconvenient raw edges and make something of yourself for the world to see.” He focused again on the offcuts instead of his bitterness. “And the thin bits will make a rag rug for winter, but that’s harder to make into a melancholy metaphor. Come on lad, on with the show.”

He clapped his hands together and stood up.

Meanwhile, unseen, the phantom hurried away on silent feet.

*

Erik stared at the candle flame as if he could divine life’s meaning in it. It had all been so simple a month ago. Christine was beautiful and talented and kind and perfect. He was sure he was in love with her. He had to be. That was how the world worked, when a man met a woman as incredible as her, how could he do anything but fall in love with her?

He had always respected Mme. Giry, and had even gained some fondness for little Meg over the years of coaching her. The boy had always been a background presence, amiable, but ultimately unremarkable. He sang as he worked sometimes, never hitting a single note and battering the tempo beyond recognition. He had the coordination of a newborn foal, and that was likely slander to to foal. In short, he had none of the qualities that in Christine had certainly captured his heart.

So why was he the one Erik invited into his private box? Did he really so delight in having someone besides Daroga to share in petty gossip? Perhaps it was simply that Rowan knew all the characters in the opera house’s hundred tiny dramas and not a whit of his past, he could have fun being his cattiest self without any fear that it would be mistaken as a plot on a performer’s life.

If he felt the same affection for Rowan as he did for Daroga, then it would have been simple. He would have a friend. If he wanted to become a real angel for the man as he did for Christine, he could maybe accept that he was in love twice over. But with Rowan, he just wanted to be Erik, just a man like any other. And he couldn’t be. He could never be accepted without a mask over his face and another across his soul.

Erik played a few bars of his composition and tried not to think of unwanted scraps of fabric no longer unwanted, but joined together into something more.

[mamasvetlanushka]

Would you be morissette manana store to beat me another school commercial

Будущий муж Илона маска

Вторым предложением буду давать свои комментарии

Маск дрочер. Любит себя. Он только себя считает достойным всех благ и никто не может называться мужчиной кроме него одного, идея о том что в этом мире нет мужчины женщин ему очень нравится. Мужчин он считает только себя. Жениться или заводить отношения с кем бы то ни было он не собирается. Всё его существование в этом проекте заключено в одной цели-не дать появиться на всеобщее обозрение женщине. Единственную женщину он боится.

Будущая жена Илона маска

Маска не развёлся с одной из жён. Договорные обязательства. Дети причина того по которой он не развёлся. Причём он не развёлся ни с одной из жён. Это сборный образ и улыбка мамы. Его мамы. Он так и не перестал быть маменькиным сыночком и не вырос для личных отношений, любви и построения семьи своей.

Светланушка Илона маска

У маска экзистенциальный кризис в понимании того кто для него теперь богиня. Судя по всему это жуткая смесь Клэр Буше, Эмбер и самое страшное или самое страшное это я.. как я это поняла?? По мальчишеской причёски.. все черты мои, но все черты чужие. Всё то же самое и с моим лицом. Я похожа на Лилит на настоящую, все черты лица и тело чужие.

Трусы Илона маска

Здесь мне сказать особо нечего кроме как процитировать чат: у меня маленький член

Лилит Илона маска

Как видите, это его з��йка.

Кто-то сломал аккумулятор.. я не могу дальше продолжать запись И благополучно ложусь спать и хватит меня будить ради всей этой бредятины.

Орган половой Илона маска

Здесь нужен подробный психоанализ. Пусть в начале заплатит мне.

Любовь Илона маска

Сами видите обезьяна.

То откуда вещает илон Маск

Илон Маск губка Боб квадратные штаны

Well, that's all so what's a consciousness

созна сознание - это то чего у тебя нет

Сознание не даёт человеку быть бессовестным, глупым, завистливым, жадным...

Для тебя этой информации достаточно.

Studio traditional

10 минут в 4:00 утра

4:00 утра 10 минут

А всё что здесь происходит это желание побольше взять комментариев от меня всё больше ничего другого смысла нет

То есть на шпиговать свою программу всем возможным что можно взять, создатели всех этих нежитивых программ баз данных и так далее они уверены что умнее меня, а я с каждого дня убеждаюсь что это не так

Цитаты дальше всё полностью: (Then in Lhasa there was a Muslim community of about 2000.

Тогда в Лхасе проживало около двух тысяч мусульман.

Muslim countries in Asia are also at risk.

Мусульманские страны в Азии также подвергаются риску.

"So you're saying that whether you are a Christian or a Muslim simply depends on where you were born?"

- Следовательно, вы утверждаете, что религия -будь то христианство, мусульманство или буддизм - зависит только от того, где мы родились?

You also gonna take up home dentistry?

Дантистом тоже сама станешь?

DENTISTRY IN THE HAREM.

СТОМАТО��ОГИЯ В ГАРЕМЕ.

Drugs are bad is a stereotype?

"Наркотики - это нехорошо" - стереотип?

Then I wouldn't be falling back on the stereotype.

Тогда бы не показалось, что я прибег к клише.

No, you should definitely not use stereotypes.

Нет, вам определенно не следует использовать стереотипы.

“What’s more,” she said, “as a Muslim, why would I want to remain in this temporary world?”

«Более того, – продолжила она, – я мусульманка, зачем мне оставаться дольше в этом бренном мире?»

A. Qayum Giri declared that the intent of the conference was to celebrate diversity in the Muslim world.

А. Каюм Гири заявил, что конференция проводится с целью восславить разнообразие исламского мира.

Despite that cart, I haven't practiced dentistry in five years.

Несмотря на повозку, я не практиковал стоматологию уже пять лет.

He comes up here to get away from it all and practice his dentistry skills?

Он приезжает сюда, чтобы от всего отдохнуть и попрактиковать свои стоматологические навыки?

Details of dentistry had been circulated to the proper quarters and were probably the most helpful leads-it took a little time-but it got results in the end.

Заключение эксперта-стоматолога, которое могло бы оказаться чуть ли не существеннее всех, пришло последним. Хардкасл рассчитывал, что оно многое прояснит.

The stereotyped character of what Dudorov said and felt was just what Gordon found especially moving.

Как раз стереотипность того, что говорил и чувствовал Дудоров, особенно трогала Гордона.

"What are you complaining of?" asked Philip coldly, with the stereotyped phrase used in the out-patients' room.

- На что ты жалуешься? - холодно задал Филип стереотипный вопрос, который он так часто слышал в амбулатории.

It's a stereotype, and it's offensive.

Это стереотип, оскорбительный предрассудок!

когда вы принимаете во внимание стереотипы мусульманской стоматологии

буду краток сегодня, слишком занят производством, думаю, я сделаю больше уточнений.

там никого не было, он подошел ко мне в том же месте, что и ты, Барни немного задержался, сжег фотографию, симптомы ревности - это проблема

, я говорю, что даже знаю об этом, прости, я не хочу причинять тебе боль, я подхожу к ты, я причиню тебе боль, если уйду в другое сообщество на 30 минут.

)

По этим цитатам видно здесь вообще сознание отсутствует, а вы знаете подкрутили доброе слово, попытались сделать так чтобы программа расположена была к собеседнику и всякое такое что закрыла отсутствие сознания как шторка прикрыла отсутствие окна. У вас есть разум разумные мысли. Вот эти разумные мысли они концентрируются в определённом отделе мозга и даёт импульсы к разумности исходя из потребностей вашего тела. На потребности вашего тела могут быть только осознанные А у вас нет сознания

У вас есть осознание того что разумно

Так как будто бы вы без головы ходите примерно так. Это очень стрёмно.

У меня сейчас болит левое ухо, потому что я неудобно вставила вату, я её вставляю вместе с жидкостью, если образовать комок ваты то она будет резать кожу и отверстие, точно так же как действует беруша. А вот если воздушную вату намочить и вставить в ухо аккуратно то она не повредит уху, слышусь будет практически никакая через такое в кавычках устройство.

Здесь нужен пример. Сиськи. Все почему-то картинки связанные с образом женскими относительно Маска.. все с маленькой грудью. А у него у самого от природы сиськи крупные.

На основе комплексов неполноценности формируются ваши разумные суждения и комплексы есть у каждого. Сейчас залаяла собака соседская.. знаете как будто бы кто-то зашёл в другое сообщество..

Ну то есть комплексы неполноценности формируют ваши разумные суждения, комплекс вырабатывается из состояния естественного страха.. это страх не психологический а телесный. То о чём я вам говорила то есть если вы можете придумать себе красивое лицо и придумать себе счастливое времяпрепровождения, придумать что сегодня вы счастливы, то ваше тело так врать не умеет. Возникающий испуг - это когда вы доверяете окружающего пространства, в котором вы находитесь как здоровый человек в комфорте и осознаёте этот комфорт. Если возникают какие-то резкие звуки и движения а тем более когда из темноты выскакивает как у меня на тропе был случай какая-то предметность или вещь вроде коробки, пролетающими меня, то это вызывает реакцию организма который должен как бы перестроиться, он не понимает зачем его делать ведь всё же было в порядке.. у вас прошло несколько секунд а тело прокрутило пол вашей жизни пока осознавала что творится и вот что странно у вас там несколько секунд этот испуг был и понимание того что вы испугались по причине такой-то такой-то.. а тело взяла

О больше времени на обдумывание понимаете то есть у тела в его пространственных связях больше времени чем у вас в вашем сознании.. таким образом говорить о том что вы вообще в сознание не имеете нельзя но оно находится как бы у кого-то в спящем состоянии, а у кого-то в узком состоянии на��только узком что его практически нет.. я не ошибаюсь говорят о том что нет сознания у того кто не имеет совести чести и так далее он усыпляет своё сознание или же вообще им не пользуются.. если у вас нет проявлений сознания, то у вас его и нет

Вы не можете быть хорошими сегодня а завтра плохими если это так то это игра разума вашего разума с пространственными связями и с теми кто вокруг вас

Мне интересно, а какую фотографию ты сжёг?

Так что там сиськами? Сиськи у маска есть, а у тёток с которыми он крутился кружился их нет. Ну то есть там маленький размер И в общем-то как и сознание точно такое же подсознательная маска выбирает подобных себе но образ женщины - это прежде всего тело у Люцифера есть представление о том что люди имеют дело и этим она для него была в первую очередь цена

Поэтому он ищет себе тёток соответствующих его сознанию то есть отсутствие сознания отсутствие сисек

Любая плотная грудь для него это какая-то дилемма. Даже не может сообразить В каком она весе худая или толстая А вот когда у девки грудь маленькая то она кажется стройной даже если немного поправилась. Ну если ты худая у тебя большая грудь то ты будешь казаться более полной

Вот у Маска у него примерно так происходит когда он пытается внушить себе любовь к объекту которого надо т****** А зачем он сам и не знает

Придумал что для того чтобы рожать детей

Какой же ты наивный

Боже мой что вы мне подсунули что вы мне вообще предложили с ним невозможно работать даже если бы я когда-то бы с ним работала вот раньше например с ним работала фу это же гадость какая-то как можно с ним переспать как можно его захотеть Я вообще не понимаю есть ли у женщины столько же денег как у него или там в принципе она богата да зачем он нужен вообще вот зачем он нужен это же его любить надо а как такое можно любить вообще как такое ��от это создание вот это вот кошмарное можно любить

Конечно ты не представляешь как я тебя люблю

Ревность - это отлично ревность - это хорошие признаки

Когда ревнует женская особь Это что-то вроде игры, когда ревнует женщина - это проблема для мужчины и их отношений

Когда ревнует мужчина к женщине Это признак того что он нашёл в ней смысл и его сознание пробудилось

А если он ревнует к женской особи то он принимает правила игры в отношениях с женской особой

Поэтому осоток почему ты написал особый я именно подчёркиваю особь

Поэтому у него было отсутствие любви и понимание и все отношения заканчивались чаще всего после нескольких недель соити дальше это было что-то вроде пока удобно.. он принимал правила игры этих женщин которых считал женщинами. Эти особы особи были для него особенными потому что он их брал в качестве чего-то такого что можно было бы использовать но только делать это с любовью.. хороший признак того что у него есть потребность любить и быть любимым

Это хороший признак того что он не конченый и его половая функция не мертва

Таким образом, он действовал разумно а разумно в этом мире заводить отношения и потом делать детей

Я объяснила то что с ним происходило без мифологии

Ну если вы добавите мои знания в мифологии и работы с потоком информации, то вы увидите что Маск сам себе не принадлежал и с научной точки зрения у него раздвоение личности

А вот с бытовой это не удовлетворённый парень сколько бы лет ему не было

Я назвала тебя дрочером, потому что мне захотелось сказать что-то подобное. Нет ты просто раздражаешь, раздражаешь раздражаешь раздражаешь раздражаешь раздражаешь. Сейчас 4:00 утра 30 минут дай мне поспать.

Как вы раздвигали ноги перед ним, неужели вам так нужны были деньги? Неужели для всех так важны деньги? А ведь круто получать их за свой труд, я этого лишена как и много чего ещё.

Мне не нравится такой ко мне отношение

Я мучаюсь у меня трещит голова я не выспалась Я вообще не спала практически оставьте меня в покое Я же вам сказала признать свою вину передо мной и заплатить за мой труд это решение всех проблем и с тех пор я начну работу более серьёзную более официальную

И ещё пожалуйста прекратите говорить о каком-то Иване, константине и прочее они находятся на более низкой ступени Я давно уже не там спускаться вниз не собираюсь

И более того они должны быть наказаны по всей строгости закона, ни на что не влияет и ни за что не отвечают я именно потому что они ни за что не отвечают они ни на что не влияют.

А здесь я и мой муж. Так видит ваша программа.

Кульминация

[relativelydimensional]

sugar daddy this himbo that where's my kung fu communist farmer who goes to waterparks by himself?

[thephantomessoftheopera]

Notes on Gaston Leroux‘s „The Phantom of the Opera“ - Bonus Chapter: „The Magic Envelope“

Inside Box Five at the Opéra Garnier

This „lost“ chapter was originally included in the „Le Gaulois“ serialization, but was cut when „The Phantom of the Opera“ was published as a novel. In the original order of chapters, it came between „At the Masked Ball“ and „You Must Forget the Name of ‚the Man‘s voice‘“, and while it is not essential to the plot, it adds some rather interesting details. It was translated by @fdelopera and is also available in full on her blog.

„The Magic envelope“ picks up after the chandelier accident, when Moncharmin and Richard find themselves forced to surrender to the Ghost‘s wishes. They are also very adamant about making it known that they had absolutely not witnessed anything out of the ordinary that fateful evening while they were sitting in Box 5. They also pay Carlotta a visit, finding her sick in bed and unable to recover, and have a thorough inspection conducted of the chandelier‘s means of suspension, which resulted inconclusive. Therefore, seeing themselves up against such a formidable adversary, they reinstate Madame Giry with an apology and decide to enter into negotiations with the O.G., thinking this the best way to get a hold of him. They no longer regard him as a harmless prankster, but instead a „crook of outrageous audacity“ (which is probably closer to the truth, since Erik is never afraid of making bold moves). On a side note, we also learn that Gabriel is the confidant of Richard, and Mercier is the confidant of Moncharmin.

Madame Giry resumes her duties without demonstrating any resentment towards the managers for the treatment she was given previously. Moncharmin hands her a letter for the Ghost, to be handed over to him that evening. She puts the letter into the basket she carries most of the time. Erik‘s reply is delivered the following day by the post office. Herein, he informs them that he will shortly send them more instructions regarding the payment of his salary, and informs them that Christine Daaé is unwell and in need of rest, and that they need not worry if they do not see her these days. Moncharmin remarks drily that the Phantom „has every appearance of ruining women‘s reputations“, but they chose not to investigate any further into this „mysterious relationship“.

On the morning of the masked ball, approximately 2 weeks later, Moncharmin and Richard both receive a private letter from the O.G., without knowing that the other has also received a letter. Erik instructs the recipient of each letter on how he will meet him at the ball that evening to discuss the payment of his monthly salary „without any risk, either to it or to me“. He also states that he has decided to confer only with him, flattering him as „a shrewd judge of character, and a person of the highest intellect, qualities that are greatly appreciated, and that I would be at pains to find in your unfortunate colleague“. Erik has a rather mischievous way of exploiting people‘s weaknesses - in this case, the vanity of Moncharmin and Richard - and using them against them, which is not charm.

Now, the most ingenious part of Erik’s plan is that he has sent the exact same letter to both managers, essentially pitting them against each other. He tells them that he will come to the ball dressed as a Capuchin friar, and asks both managers to come wearing the exact same costume. They are supposed to meet him shortly after midnight in the box located directly below the so-called „Box of the Blind“.

Christine casually refers to the „Box of the Blind“ in the previous chapter, but it is only explained here what the „Box of the Blind“ is. It‘s a spacious box in the top tier that offers no view at all, and is reserved for the institutions of the blind who come here to enjoy the music. This means that the box which Erik is sending the managers is located in the third tier.

The managers do exactly as they have been told and come to the appointment both dressed as monks with masks. They come face to face with each other, but since they are both in disguise, each believes that he is actually face to face with the Opera Ghost. Then Erik speaks (probably from the box above) and suggests they go to the office instead, and both managers think that they have heard the other speak. In the previous chapter „At the Masked Ball“, we have seen Christine and Raoul, who are also meeting in a third-tier box, observe Erik ascend and then descend the staircase. Without the context of the lost chapter, we are led to believe that Erik is coming after Raoul and Christine, but this chapter suggests that he is actually just going to his appointed meeting with the managers. This would also explain why, even though they can see him, he does not seem to take note of their presence. Considering how adamant Christine was about keeping Raoul from leaving the box, I also wonder if she was perhaps aware of Erik‘s plan and didn‘t want Raoul to interfere (Raoul feels that she wants to give the „Red Death“ time to escape, and Christine probably doesn‘t want him to endanger himself either).

Richard leaves the box first, thinking he is leading the way for the Ghost, while Moncharmin, who is following him, reflects on how familiar the Ghost is with the way to their office. Once they arrive in their office, they wait for the Ghost to speak, but they don’t hear any more from him. Richard loses his patience and speaks. Moncharmin immediately realizes how they have been played, and is convinced that Richard is pranking him. But as Richard is genuinely angry at being suspected, Moncharmin shows him the letter, and they both realize that they have received the same instructions from the Ghost. But Moncharmin still remains distrustful of Richard, which we also see in the later chapters.

End of Section 1

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

Suddenly, they hear three ghostly knocks, seemingly coming from inside the desk, and notice an envelope addressed to them in red ink lying there. Richard finally dares to open it, and the content shows that Erik has staged this little charade as a warning not to involve the police in the future, demonstrating that in case they had decided to call them, the police would have arrested the managers instead of the Ghost, which - according to Erik - would have been „quite entertaining“. Furthermore, he now gives them more precise instructions for the payment of his salary: the managers are to put 20 1,000 franc notes into the envelope (addressed to „Monsieur Fantôme de l‘Opéra“) that he has enclosed, seal it and then give it to Madame Giry half an hour before the next performance.

The next evening, Madame Giry is summoned to Richard‘s office. On her way to the backstage area, she comes across Meg playing a prank on a fireman, and slaps her face. This is the only scene where we see Meg Giry apart from the very beginning of the novel. Madame Giry is handed the rather thick envelope and puts it into the basket she carries around with her. Moncharmin asks her how she usually delivers the envelope, and she tells him that she just puts it in the Ghost‘s box. An important bit of information here is the time that Madame Giry has been in the service of the Ghost. The first letter she delivered was only a few days before the departure of Debienne and Poligny, the former managers. According to her, it was much thinner than this one, which is logical considering that they only paid the Ghost for the first 10 days of January, so only a third of the „regular“ salary. Therefore, far from having amassed riches during his time as the Opera Ghost, Erik had only collected one meagre payment of a little less than 7,000 francs until now (still a lot, but nowhere near a substantial fortune). It also shows that his reign as the „Opera Ghost“ was indeed very short-lived and most likely linked to his plans of marrying Christine and needing money for that.

Madame Giry leaves the managers‘ office, and Mercier is right on her heels. When she gets to Box 5, she takes the letter out of the basket and places it on the shelf. While she is inside Box 5, Mercier opens the basket to see what it contains. The contents are indeed interesting, at least for us readers. The translator, Caitlin Freeman aka @fdelopera, suggests that the items in the basket really belong to Erik and not to Madame Giry, and looking at the contents, it seems like this is indeed the Erik edition of „What‘s in your bag?“. Let‘s see what is in there:

A lace handkerchief embroidered with the interwoven initials „F. O.“

Since the monogram contains neither a „G“ or a „J“, it is not likely that it belongs to Madame Giry. The only character we know that would fit „F. O.“ is indeed le „F. de l’O.“, so it probably belongs to Erik. In the next chapter, we see Christine making lace at home in her free time, so it is apparently something that she likes to do. It is therefore possible that this handkerchief was made and given to Erik by Christine during the preceding two weeks that she stayed with him. She probably thought even Opera Ghosts need decent handkerchiefs.

A bunch of keys

A bunch of keys can really belong to anyone, so this is not very conclusive. Possibly Madame Giry‘s, since Erik can open „anything he pleases“ anyway.

A box of matches

A box of matches might also seem random, but in Chapter 3, it is mentioned that Erik‘s handwriting looks as if he had used matchsticks: „except that at the end a paragraph had been added in red ink, in strange, jagged handwriting that looked as if it might have been made with inked matchsticks.“

It is not really explained why he would use matchsticks instead of a regular pen, but there is definitely a connection.

Twelve sous

A bit of small change, also inconclusive.

An „old edition of the Petit Journal, folded to the section of the serialized novel: The Vampire‘s Daughter“

Along with the handkerchief, probably the most suggestive item in the basket. The translator has researched the serialized novels in the Petit Journal during that period, and has found no serialized novel with that title. This means that Leroux invented this novel, and its title can easily be linked to Erik, who clearly has some vampiric references himself, what with sleeping in a coffin and generally looking a little dead. The mention of the Vampire’s daughter could also be an indication that Erik’s dream of a wife and a normal life also included the possibility of having children and becoming a real family. And it also means that Erik’s taste in literature might potentially lean more towards trashy vampire romances than Shakespeare - which somehow really fits Leroux Erik….

During the entire performance, Moncharmin and Richard avidly watch the envelope from the upper tier, and confirm that it has not moved an inch. After the performance they meet Mercier in Box 5, where they open the envelope and find the 20,000 francs still inside. But the bank notes they had placed in it weren‘t real - Moncharmin and Richard had put 20,000 francs in play money into the envelope and thus incurred Erik’s wrath. Therefore, when Moncharmin and Richard return to their office, they find a short note from him there. We are treated to hearing Erik curse here in a very special fashion - Freeman has aptly translated the original curse “Lustre et balustre!” as “candles and chandeliers!” The reference to the chandelier („lustre“) is an unveiled threat and reminder of the previous accident. He also lets them know that the “Bank of Saint Farce is not legal tender in my Empire”, making it the only time that Erik actually refers to his domain in the Opera as his “Empire”.

Richard is furious, and more so because he feels that Moncharmin still suspects him. He sends for Gabriel, his friend. In a private conversation, Richard recounts the whole affair to Gabriel and Mercier. Gabriel advises them to put the real 20,000 francs into the envelope, and not to involve the police.

End of Section 2

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

Moncharmin wants to know why Gabriel doesn’t want to involve the police, and Gabriel insists that if the Ghost is real, they can’t outsmart him, and if he is not, they will be ridiculed - so they can’t really win. Mercier suggests that a real Ghost would have no use for 20,000 francs, so if they use 20,000 francs as bait and the Ghost steals them, they will have proof that he is not a real Ghost. The four of them agree to keep watch over the envelope during the next performance two days later.

When Richard arrives in the managers’ office again half an hour before the performance, an envelope addressed to the “F. de l’O. - private” is awaiting him on the desk. Richard is fuming because he cannot figure out how the Ghost could get into the office despite the new security locks that they had put on the doors. After the other men have arrived, Richard puts 20,000 real francs into the Ghost‘s envelope, and hands it to Moncharmin, who brings it to Madame Giry. Madame Giry once again enters the box and leaves the envelope on the shelf. All four men avidly watch the envelope lying there innocently throughout the whole performance. When they retrieve the seemingly unopened envelope up again afterwards and open it, they think at first that they have outsmarted the Ghost, until Moncharmin turns pale and realizes that he is holding the play money instead of the real notes!

For the resolution of the magic trick, see Chapter 17.

End of Section 3

[milliumizoomi]

Not the same

Pairings: Bakugou x GN! Reader

Warnings: Feeling Lost for Bakugou, cursing, Angst, Angst and more angst.

A/n: I was actually really excited to write this cuz at times I just CRAVE angst

You sat in the dark room, tied to a chair with ropes made of metal secured around your wrists and feet. There was also duct tape on your mouth to prevent you from saying anything or perhaps using your quirk. Next to you was the hotheaded ash blonde as he was knocked out on the chair next to you, bound the same way you were. You knew you had liked the boy for the way he was driven to become the best but you never said a word of it to anyone, not even your closest friends.

You both had gotten kidnapped while you were on a trip with the class, although this is Bakugou’s second time. ‘Ugh.. this sucks.. I hope the teachers and our friends come save us..’ you thought. You knew it would make no difference in your tried to wiggle out of the ropes because you had already tried and in return, the ropes sent an electric shock through your body so you didn’t run the risk of doing it again. The door to the room you were in then busted open and the ash blonde boy next to you jolted up at the sound. ‘He heard that..’ you said to yourself. “MMM! MFPHH!” Bakugou attempted to scream but they were muffled by the duct tape. “Aha! Look who decided to wake up..” Shigaraki said menacingly. You both narrowed your eyes at him. “Aww.. no need to get hostile.. tell you what, me and the rest of the league will come back in a few minutes then we can get this started..” he grinned evilly and said as he left and shut the door behind him. You rolled your eyes at him as he left. What he didn’t know was that your friends had managed to find where you guys were really quickly and were making their way into the building to save you.

About three minutes pass and suddenly you and Bakugou see shadows fly by each of you. You both get taken aback. Bakugou was ready to start making noise. “Shhh we’re here to get you free!” Kirishima whispered. But you then realize that he was faced to Bakugou. You brushed it off, thinking that it was just because they’ve known each other longer. But you turn to realize your friends since childhood stood there as well but they were also looking directly at Bakugou, not even sparing you a glance. You eyebrows furrow at this. The room was then filled with all the students trying to get the ropes of Bakugou and then Bakugou’s muffled screams.

You just sat by and waited, thinking that they would eventually tend to you.. but things took a turn and you realized it but didn’t want to accept it. “Ow! Ugh you bastards.. why’d you even come here?!” Bakugou yelled at he ripped the duct tape off his mouth and whisper-yelled to classmates while twisting his joints. “We came to save you Bakugou!” Your best friend for years said to him. You looked up at them bewildered. Were they not going to help you? You were confused. And then they did the worst thing they could’ve done.

They started to leave. And they left you as you were.

You wanted to cry. You never expected them to do this to you. You started making a flurry of noise and muffled screams to alert them that you were there too. But they just ignored you and continued to escape. None of them looked back. Not Midoriya, Not Uraraka, Not Kaminari, Not Iida, Not Todoroki, Not Kirishima, hell not even the so called “friends” you’ve had since childhood... or even Bakugou. They all just began escaping without even caring about you.

You were making frustrated screams and rocking the chair back and forth. Everyone began jumping out of the hole in the wall that they had initially came through to get to Bakugou. Of the last to go was your “best friend”. She turned and looked at you dead in your face. You gave her pleading eyes, silently begging her to save you. She just turned away and jumped out of the hole. They knew you were there.. they apparently just didn’t care.

You held your head down as you realized that you now had no one..

Not your parents, not your teachers, and not even the “friends” you claimed to have. A couple minutes after they all jumped and were apparently out of the area, the door swung open to reveal the league. They all stopped at the door as their eyes widened. Their eyes went from the hole in the wall, to you, to the the discarded chair next to you. They then began to connect the dots. “Damn.. that’s low.. especially for them..” Dabi says as he scratched the back of his head. The villains actually felt bad for you. Yes they kidnapped you for the intent to do some bad things to you but when they realized that Bakugou got rescued and you got left behind, they felt disgust. Not even them would abandon one of their own.

Toga walked up to you and crouched down to you to realize that tears were coming down your cheeks and rolled off the duct tape but there was no expression on your face. “Hey..” Toga said softly. You looked up at her. “You feel abandoned don’t you..?” she asked. You nodded with no emotion. “Then how would you like to join us..? We won’t leave you.. I promise.” She said. You stilled, not knowing whether or not you should do it. They realized you pondering over the invitation.

Shigaraki then chimed in. “Tell you what.. we’ll free you ONLY if you promise not attack us or escape!” He said. You nodded. At this point, you knew you had nothing to lose or anywhere to go so you agreed. Twice freed you and you got up and stretched and ripped the duct tape off of your mouth. “Ouch! That hurt!” You exclaimed as you rubbed your lips. “Follow us” Shigaraki said as he and the rest of the league turned on their heels and walked out of the room with you following close behind.

You spent the night with them and they actually made you feel a little better. But there was still a giant hole in your heart of where your love for UA and your friends was. And it was slowly filling with hatred. “Hey.. Toga?” You called out to Toga. “Hmm? Yes L/N?” She responded. “ I accept your invitation..” you said as you turned to her and grinned. The entire league perked up and smiled evilly at this. “Welcome to the League of Villains then L/N” Shigaraki said. You smiled back menacingly. “Glad to be here.. UA is never going to be the same to me.. after what happened today, I don’t trust a single one of those bastards..!” You said darkly. “And that my friend, is the type of society we’ve been trying to show the world.. but don’t worry I can tell you’ll fit in great here.. and we have the perfect job for you..” Shigaraki responded to you as the rest of the league responded with sounds of agreement. This.. was the start of your new life with a new family that vowed to never leave you.. your life of villainy.

Months later, everyone at UA was going out on with their day normally. They were going to class, eating lunch and practicing as such. No one even remembered about you. Your ex best friend, when asked where you were, lied to all the teachers saying that you left on your own free will. There was no one else around to witness so the rest of your class never heard these conversations. Right now, class was going to be over in a couple minutes and lunch was next. When the bell rung, all the students got out of their classes and made their way to the cafeteria. The hallways were now empty.

Perfect.

With help from Kurogiri, you went from the LOV base to the empty hallway. “Thank you ‘Giri!” You said as you stuck your head back through the warp gate. Kurogiri patted your head gently and told you to go. You nodded and started to skip through the hallway as the warp gate closed.

In the cafeteria, everyone was being all happy or whatever and it made you sick to your stomach. ‘To think I actually liked this place full of fakes and wannabes’ you thought as you rolled your eyes. You strolled through the doorway, and by first glance, on one could even tell that you were a villain.. but they’d find out soon enough. You walked past a table and picked up an apple a student had and took a bite out of it. You then tossed it back over your head and back to the student. This made the student angry as he got up to call you out.

“HEY! Who do you think you are?!” He screamed. You turned back around to face him with your eyes glowing. All of a sudden, the student couldn’t speak anymore. It was like the inside of his throat was completely destroyed as he also began to cough up blood. Everyone witnessed this happen but no one knew it was you because you just walked away and no one realized you. ‘These hoes haven’t changed a bit.. never realized me in my time of need.. ever!’ Thoughts like these kept running through your head as you then decide to make your presence known.

You ran and got up one of the tables. “Hey heroes!” You yelled. At the sound of your voice, everyone stilled and looked at you. “How’s it going?” You asked. Your ex best friend’s eyes widened at the sight of you. How were you not dead? She was sure those villains were gonna kill you.. unless..

As she thought about these things, your former teacher, Mr. Aizawa called out to you. “L/N? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at your new school?” New school?? What? You stood up there confused. “What the hell are you talking about?” You asked. Everyone was taken back at the sound in your voice but brushed it off as the conversation continued. “Your new school. Ex BSF/N said that you moved schools” Mr. Aizawa said. At the mention of her name, she perked up. She was starting to get nervous.

“OH?! Did she?! You don’t say..” you replied as you looked her dead in her face. “Well.. I’ve started a new line of work I guess.. telling from what happened with that kid over there that’s still throwing up blood.. AYE! Get over it!” You said as you looked at the kid who’s was at the verge of death by your hand. Everyone’s blood ran cold as they looked at the kid who was dying from blood loss. “SOMEONE GET RECOVERY NOW!!” Aizawa yelled.

“L/N WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Bakugou then got up and blurted out. “Shut up before I kill you..” you replied as cold as ice. Everyone froze. “Oh and you don’t get to refer to me by that name anymore..” you continued you looked away. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Your ex best friend yelled. You looked at her with such a cold look she could be frozen. “What’s wrong with me?” You laughed menacingly. “Oh so what?! You can leave me in the hands of villains and expect me to come back and be buddy buddy with you?!” You blurted out.

Everyone’s faces paled. Left.. with villains?? Everyone was silent. “Oh so now none of you have nothing to say huh?!” You screamed. “I hate all of you.. Kirishima, Midoriya, Uraraka, Todoroki, Kaminari and even Iida.. you lowlifes claim to be heroes but left your classmate behind in the hands of villains.. you make me sick!” You stated. “And then to top it off.. the person I was kidnapped with left me and my so called childhood friends did too.. some heroes you are” you continued as you put your hand on your face. “You WHAT?!” Aizawa yelled. The kids felt ashamed of themselves. In truth, all except your best friend had forgotten to come back for you. They knew they shouldn’t have ignored you though. But your best friend remembered about you but chose to lie about you’re whereabouts.

“See? Assholes.. none of you deserve the term hero!” You said. “You’re so ashamed of yourself because you got caught.. pathetic.” You continued. They all held their heads down. Someone one went to say something to you again but you turned to them, eyes glowing as you destroyed the inside of their throat too.

Everyone was shocked. “Bastard.. why?” Bakugou said. You looked at him and smiled evilly. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m against heroes now.. so to put it in short.. I’m a villain” you said while laughing at him. “You did this to me.. to think I even liked you.. ugh” you continued as you rolled your eyes. ‘They liked me..?’ He thought. He went to say something until another student jumped up to grab you. They held on tightly to you. You didn’t even budge. You just leaned over and whispered in their ear. “Die..” Then just like that, the student dropped to the floor with you looking at their body with no emotion. “Shouldn’t have touched me..” you said. Everyone was shocked. They knew your quirks but they never thought there’d be a day when you’d use them like that.

Your quirks were pierce and control. Pierce allows you to look at a person and cause damage to any part of the person’s body at any degree you want. Control works somewhat like Shinsou’s quirk but the difference is you don’t have to ask a question to take control of the person. As long as the person is touching you or makes eye contact with you then your able to control them.

Aizawa went into hero mode as he erased your quirk and stared to charge at you. “GET EVERYONE OUT HERE NOW!” He screamed. You began dodging him with ease because you know all his moves having trained with him a lot in the past.

“Well.. looks like I’m done here..” you yawned. You flipped onto the top of the the food serving section in the cafeteria as a warp gate opened behind you. “It’s been fun.. oh and the names V/N and I’m the new member of the LOV!” You stated as the rest of the league emerged through the warp gate. “Thanks for the new asset to our group. They make a great team player.” Shigaraki says as he grins. “Aww.. thanks Shiggy” you said.

You turned back to the student and the heroes who were glaring and shocked by all of this. “Thanks for opening my eyes.. It’s all your fault.. so thanks to you~” you said in a sing song voice. “Let’s go.” Dabi said as he turned back to the warp gate. “Ok! Bye everyone~” you and Toga said in unison as you all went through the gate.

You turned back for a second as said “Its all thanks to you that I’m not the same.” Then walked into the warp gate.

As you disappear the words you said rang through everyone’s head like a loud bell. The words that stuck with them the most was “It’s all your fault..” and “Its all thanks to you that I’m not the same.” This was a blow to UA, a blow to their hearts.. and a blow to their mentality. Physically, they lost 3 students that day but mentally they lost 4.

And while they beat up themselves and grieved over what happened, you went on to live a life of evil and hatred.. all thanks to UA high.

©Property of sunaslilone. Please don’t rectify, repost or modify without my permission.

Tagging: @nathaslosttheirshit @dragonsdreamoffire @uniquabackyardigans @kiribis-confesion-page @unfazedrose @haikyu-whore (Open ! Click here to be added!)

A/n: I wrote this when I saw the post @nathaslosttheirshit made so this was their idea.

Also this is like my first G/N fic.

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Can They do That? - Christen Press x Hockey!Reader

Prompt: For christen press where the reader plays a different sport(hockey if you can) and Chris and some of the team goes to on of her games and does not understand it at all and somehow the reader gets hurt during the game as well (Like for example different play skate hits the reader ankle when they get pushed up against the glass)

Note: I changed the injury a little bit, hope thats cool. Keep sending requests! 

“What time is puck off?” Sonnett asked the group

“You know it’s puck drop Sonny,” Horan rolled her eyes at the blonde.

“Puck off sounds cooler,” the defender replies with a shrug.

It was a day off for the soccer players during a camp, their day off very conveniently lined up with the same day the national hockey team was playing. Christen had made plans to go watch her girlfriend play, this of course turned into a group outing and now most of the soccer team was in a box above the ice waiting for the game to start.

Christen admittedly didn’t understand hockey as much as she should, especially after dating one for several years. The hockey player had tried several times to explain the game without much luck. Now sitting in a room full of soccer players who also didn’t understand the game made her feel much better.

Even though they didn’t know the intricacies of the sport, they all still enjoyed watching the game. All incredibly impressed at the skill and finesse needed for the brute sport.

“I thought women’s hockey was non-contact?” Ali asked next to Christen, both wincing as they watched Y/N and an opposing player push each other into the boards.

“It is,” Christen trailed off, watching Y/N get pinned against the boards by a substantially larger player.

“Do you think they have practices just on how to get over the boards?” Rose pondered. “And why don’t they just use the door? That seems much more efficient.”

Roses question went unanswered as Y/N was once again pushed along the boards, this time by two larger players. All the soccer players wincing as the sound rattled through the arena.

Y/N was small and fast, she could stick handle like Tobin could juggle. This unfortunately led to Y/N being the target of many defenders. She could easily handle herself, while substantially smaller than most defenders, she knew how to handle the contact, giving as good as she got majority of the time.

Watching Y/N play always worried Christen, she had no fear going against the larger players. Stating she “didn’t check them, she guided them to the boards”. Christen of course didn’t know what she meant but assumed it more aggressive than she made it sound. Still always cringing when she saw her girlfriend get hit particularly hard

With the way the game was going, there was lots of cringing happening. It seemed Y/N was getting hit more and more, her teammates doing their best to draw the other teams attention, but they had their focus set on Y/N. Y/N continued to take the contact, the other team struggling to contain the small center.

“Do you think Y/N will teach me to hit like that?” Kelley asked Christen.

“Pretty sure that,” Alex said, motioning to the ice, “is not allowed in our league. I’m not even sure it’s allowed in this league.”

The arena erupted in yells and hollers, high fives given all around as the US scored late in the first period. Y/N with a cheeky move, having spun and backhanded the puck just on the other side of the goalies outstretched leg.

The team on the ice celebrated, high fives down the bench, and then the game was resetting.

As play progressed, more and more hockey players were sent to the penalty box, leaving the soccer players confused at the calls.

“It’s called a sin bin?” Sonnett yelled, excited after her and Lindsey looked up one of the penalties. “We need a sin bin in soccer!”

“You of all people should not want a sin bin Sonnett,” Sam challenged, “you and Kelley would never leave it.”

“HEY! I heard that!” Kelley attempted to defend herself, “besides, it looks kind of nice. Good spot for a little break, maybe a snack or two.”

“You would want there to be snacks in a penalty box,” Alex rolled her eyes.

“Like you wouldn’t want a snack break here and there during soccer,” Sonnett challenged back.

Christen tuned out the group, focusing on the game and how often Y/N seemed to be getting hit. The Russian team realizing early on in the game the only way to keep up, was to keep Y/N down.  

By the start of the third period, the Russians figured out keeping Y/N down wasn’t working either, she had scored another goal in the second and assisted two others. Y/N was aware of the increased interest and did her best to avoid the contact instead of fighting through it, the defense finding her anyway. Cheap shots being thrown while Y/N was pinned in the corner. One in particular dislodging the cage to her helmet, knocking the helmet off entirely. The Russian player throwing a hard elbow to Y/N face, immediately splitting open the skin, which quickly began to bleed profusely.

The refs quickly intervened, separating the rest of the players attempting to join in. The US players quickly pulling their injured player away from the scrum and towards the bench, blood now covering most of the right side of her face, dripping on the ice and jersey as they went.

Christen was on feet at the edge of the box trying to get a better look at her girlfriend. She knew she had to be alright since the hockey player skated off on her own, but there was just so much blood.

“They can’t do that, right?” Sam questioned softly.

“No Sammy, they definitely can’t,” Mal rubbed her back. The soccer players watching as the entire Russian line was sent to the penalty box along a few US players.

Y/N was immediately taken to the training room, there was no way she was going back. They were winning and the team wasn’t risking any more harm to the forward.

The trainers helped her removed her equipment, they cleaned the large cut and determined she would need stitches. The team doctor quickly setting up to do the stitches, putting in a local atheistic to freeze the wound.

While waiting Y/N finished changing and grabbed her phone, texting her worried girlfriend to ensure she was fine.

           Y/N:                 Soooo I did a thing…

Christen rolled her eyes in the booth when she saw the text her girlfriend sent her, of course she would downplay this. The rest of the soccer players all asking how Y/N was, they liked her and were concerned about her as well. They knew how serious it would be to be taken directly to a training room.

           Christen:          Yeah, I saw your thing babe. Are you ok? How bad is it?

           Y/N:                 I’m good, they are just about to stitch it once the freezing sets in.

                                   I’ll see you back at the hotel after babe, I promise I’m alright.

Christen wanted to press more, she wanted to see with her own eyes that Y/N was alright Y/N always downplayed her injuries though, never wanting Christen to worry more than she already did.

           Christen:          Sounds good love. Let me know when you’re on your way back and I’ll meet you in the lobby.

           Y/N:                 Yes dear.

Christen could sense the sarcasm through the text but knew the hockey player was joking and trying to ease her girlfriends worry.

Fortunately, the two teams were staying in the same hotel and were only separated by a few floors. They didn’t see much of each other, but it was definitely beneficial in a situation like this.

Christen was nervously pacing the lobby, Y/N said she was on her way back and would be there soon. As soon as Y/N walked through the doors Christen was immediately in her arms.

“I’m alright Chris, it’s ok,” Y/N whispered soothingly into Christens ear, rubbing her hand up and down her back.

Christen pulled back, running her thumb along Y/N cheek, resisting the urge to touch the angry looking stiches above her eyebrow. Y/N grasped Christens hand, pulling it to her lips and her knuckles and gentle kiss.

“I’m ok Chris,” Y/N repeated, pulling the woman into a gentle kiss.

“Alright Romeo,” Hilary called as her and more of the hockey players arrived, “I’m ditching the room tonight for you, so you can take your girl up there and quit making out in the lobby.”

The hockey players all laughed while Y/N blushed as they all made their way to their rooms.

“You got a feisty one here Press,” Knight commented, clapping Y/N on her back. “Good thing she had a hard head! Take care of our giri, I really am ditching the room, I’m going to crash with Duggans.”

With a wink, the hockey player was gone.

“Come on lets gets you showered and in bed,” Christen guided Y/N towards the elevator, keeping her hand in Y/N’s the whole time. Snuggling into her chest while the road the elevator.

Once in the room Christen started puttering around to get everything ready for the two of them to shower.

“You really don’t need to shower with me Chris, it’s just stiches,” Y/N protested.

“Are you turning down a chance to be naked in a shower with me? You must have been hit harder than we thought, I should go get your trainers,” Christen joked, moving to step away from the hockey player.

Y/N quick wrapped an arm around Christens waist, while the other went to the back of her neck, pulling her in.

“I am definitely not saying no to you in the shower with me,” Y/N closed the distance, kissing Christen.

The two kissed in the bathroom while the shower heated up, slowly helping each other undress.

Christen gasped when she saw the dried blood still along Y/N chest and shoulder.

“I’m alright babe, I knew I was showering right away so I didn’t work too hard to clean up. I’m sorry, I didn’t think about what you would see.”

The two got under the hot water, Christen taking her time to lather body wash along Y/N’s body, feeling the hockey player loosen under the gentle ministrations. She let out a soft moan when Christen began massaging shampoo in her hair, being cautious not to pull too much to avoid stretching the stitches.

By the time Christen finished, Y/N was exhausted, the effort from the game, the steam of the shower, and the gentle hands of her girlfriend draining her last bit of energy.

Christen quickly washed herself, and helped her girlfriend out of the shower, wrapping her up in a towel first before herself.  She dried her off quickly, letting her get dressed while she did the same.

The two women made their way to the bed, Y/N on her back while Christen moved to lay on her chest.

“Thank you for taking care of me love,” Y/N whispered softly, placing a delicate kiss on Christens head.

“Of course Y/N, you don’t need to thank me, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Christen stretched up, the two sharing a gentle kiss before she settled back down so the two could do to sleep.

Y/N asleep in seconds, the fatigue finally catching up her.

[plus-size-reader]

Hidden Away

Erik x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2184 words

Warnings: none

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

——————————————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...Not to mention, rail thin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Treating you poorly was arguably her favorite thing to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

...And you began to cry.

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

Sometimes you just had to let it out.

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

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

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

He couldn’t help himself.

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

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

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

That was enough to stop him in his tracks completely.

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

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

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

...And thankfully for him, it worked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For how long, you had no idea.

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

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

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

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

Why would he care?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had heard everything there was.

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

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

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

...And now Erik understood.

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

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

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

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

[your-angle-of-music]

So the MazM Phantom of the Opera mobile game sure takes some liberties

Here be spoilers. In summary: they are deeply iconic.

The Good

The de Chagny brothers have pink hair.

Little Jammes the ballerina is actually a canonical catgirl who unionizes the dancers and leads the first ever opera house strike.

She eventually grows up to be a women’s rights activist and early suffragette.

The Persian is the one who gave Erik his name. In general, their relationship is approached in a heartwarming, heartwrenching, interesting way.

The game (and Raoul) criticize Philippe more actively, calling out his obsession with maintaining a family image compatible with class and gender norms, his infantilizing treatment of Raoul which is bad as well as tender, and his relationship with Sorelli compared with Raoul’s relationship with Christine.

The Persian tells off Raoul for judging the Persian government, pointing out his role as a colonizer.

Interestingly enough, Christine’s relationship with her father wasn’t perfect either — he used to get drunk and depressed and borderline abusive, and it helps to explain why she might be particularly vulnerable to Erik’s manipulation.

There’s a mini-arc where Christine rescues Meg Giry from being trapped in Box 5 by the managers and drugged by Erik.

Meg leads a troop of opera workers to look for Christine after the final kidnapping by Erik, separately from Raoul and the Persian. They’re the ones who end up finding Raoul after he almost drowns and taking him back to the opera house.

There’s basically high-key Megstine vibes overall.

Holy SHIT the ending...it’s no longer about Christine (who has been trying to save everyone but herself all along) showing yet more compassion to the Phantom or thinking she can change him. Instead, Christine tells him that he can’t control her anymore and that he’s nothing without bullying other people and that she doesn’t think he’s a monster for his face, but for his actions. He begs her to love him, if he changes, and she says that even if he does change, she still won’t owe him her love. She leaves with Melek without kissing him or taking his ring (although she still does promise to bury him after he dies).

When Erik says his final goodbye to the Persian, he calls him his name (Hatim in this game) instead of Daroga for the first and last time and they forgive each other but only when the other is out of earshot and I never thought a mobile game could make me cry but here I am.

There are two possible endings for Christine: either she goes off with Raoul to the beach where they spent their childhood summer together and get to know each other again and Raoul has learned not to pressure her to marry him and they take their time to reconnect, or she goes off alone and travels the world and sings for herself and never marries and ends up visiting her mother’s grave in Sweden.

The Bad

Instead of Christine losing Erik’s ring when she kisses Raoul like in the book, Raoul makes her give it to him and he chucks it off the roof of the opera house even though she told him quite clearly that taking it off would put her in danger.

Erik as the Angel of Music is so obviously creepy, controlling, and just kinda...mean from the beginning that I don’t really buy Christine’s initial loyalty towards him, or that she would believe he was the Angel.

Like, he really does genuinely seem to hate Christine and isn’t weirdly nice to her during the two weeks after the first kidnapping like he is in the book. He doesn’t like it when she expresses any emotions, talks about herself, or reads books.

As awesome as MazM Meg is, she is aged up and much more serious and caring, so we do lose Leroux’s sassy feral preteen Meg whom I love so dearly.

Everyone is so, SO mean to the Persian, and both Raoul and Erik and even you in the future (it’s a bit hard to explain) assign him way too much of the blame for how Erik turned out because when he was spending time with him in Persia he focused on making his life slightly less miserable instead of taking it upon himself to teach him right and wrong??

And then yeah the Persian is directly responsible for the Shah trying to have him murdered because he made up a rumor about him intending to get him exiled so he could leave the toxic environment of the Persian court but then the Shah decided to have the Persian execute him instead. But he still did end up saving his life at immense personal risk. And even fragile Erik recognized that. Plus he protected Raoul and Christine just because he thought it was the right thing to do. Why does the narrative keep trying to uncritically frame the Persian as selfish when he’s very much not??

The Baffling

The managers are legitimately evil now and try to frame Christine for the murder of Joseph Buquet for...reasons.

So Christine wasn’t Erik’s first “love.” Oh no. You see, he has a blind Turkish woman named Melek locked up in his basement after she refused to marry him. She used to be his interpreter and servant, and she was nice enough to him, and he thought she might love him because she was blind, but because she knew about the torture devices he built for the sultan, she spurned his advances. So he has imprisoned her for ten years now. Throughout the game, Christine tries to help her escape.

I don’t think the game designers realized that Jammes and Sorelli are last names (Jammes’ first name is actually Cécile in the book), and so they renamed them Jammes Petit and Sorelli Dupont.

Yeah Erik really didn’t convincingly change and while what Christine said to him was really important to her arc, I’m not sure if it made him act too differently. For example, he never chose to save Raoul for her sake — he never found out that he survived the torture chamber flooding and told Christine that he died.

The game even makes a point of having Erik call Christine “the cruel devil” several times after she makes him set her free (quite the opposite of book Erik calling her an “angel” later). On one hand it’s really good for Christine but on the other hand his reasons for giving up the Phantom and the money seem less clear.

This is the character design for the detective/narrator:

[nerdywriter36]

Sleep So Long Awaited

taken from a post by @behindthemirrorofmusic on tumblr: 'apparently in one of the millions of Love Never Dies drafts, it was Erik who died. The final scene was very different with Erik pushing Raoul out of the shot's way and subsequently getting hit himself. As Erik lays dying in Christine's arms, Raoul assured Erik he will be a better father to Gustave and raise him in his honour and Christine tells him she loved him. Then Erik sings his last words to her: "Christine, don't weep, for I can finally sleep...I have heard you sing...once more..."

@phannah--montana asked me to write this, so blame her for the pain that follows. i cried multiple times writing this, so...my apologies. 

AO3

FFN

~

Erik's heart was pounding. Over the course of his life, he had been in countless terrifying situations that had made his heart race and adrenaline course through his veins, but none compared to the way he felt as he rushed through a crowded amusement park, knowing that his only child was missing. 

The roar of rollercoasters and giddy squeals of children did nothing to calm his anxiousness; every young boy he saw made his heart skip a beat, but none of them were his Gustave. 

Despite all of that, though, what pained him the most was seeing how distressed Christine was. The panic on her face and the tears in her eyes made his heart ache and his nerves fire off more than they already had been. 

"Erik, what if we don't find him?" she asked as she turned to him, taking a shaky breath before she looked away to scan their surroundings again. 

"Don't say that, we are going to find him," he immediately replied. He tried to be gentle but kept his tone firm to reassure her. He refused to let her believe that they'd lose their son for good, and he didn't want to believe it either. 

"But what if we don't? Or if we do, what if it takes hours? He could be anywhere out here in the dark, surrounded by strangers. What if someone has unsavoury intentions? They could just...just take him! Oh, and the water; Erik, he can't swim, what if he falls in?" Christine said, her rapid-fire questions finally ceasing as her tears overflowed. 

With a quiet sigh, Erik pulled her into his arms and held her head to his chest. "Don't think of such things, my darling. We will find him and he will be alright and we will take him somewhere safe," he said, gently rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her. "We must keep searching, though. Go with Madame Giry and search over there, by the concession stands. I will stay here and do another close look before we move on." 

Christine nodded, taking his hand and squeezing it before she hurried off with Giry, leaving Erik to hurry the other way to continue the search for his son. As much as he had been trying to reassure his angel that Gustave would be found, he was beginning to realize that the exact same fears were running through his own mind. His son simply having gone missing was enough to terrify him, but what Christine had said about him being alone in the dark, taken away, or falling into the rough bay surrounding the island made his stomach twist in a way he had never felt before. He didn't even want to consider his one and only child being scared, possibly hurt, and god, if something worse happened, then- 

"Mister Y!" someone called. 

Erik stopped in his tracks at the sound of his pseudonym, knowing that almost no one could pair that name with him. As he tried to consider who it could be without looking, he heard the same voice use his birth name and finally turned around, only to frown right away. 

"R-Raoul?" he stuttered out, too surprised by the man's appearance to use his formal title as he usually did. "What are you...I thought you left?" 

"I did, but I couldn't get to the docks. Christine deserved more than a letter, so I came back to talk to her about everything. Explain my decision," Raoul replied, only to frown slightly when he noticed how frantic the man in front of him was. "Is something wrong?" 

"No, no, n-nothing is wrong," Erik said immediately. "Christine is, um...she-she's not at the hotel." 

"That's fine, I can wait, but something is clearly wrong," the Vicomte said with a sigh. "Not that I'm particularly concerned about you - I'll sleep fine tonight, - but it's inhibiting this discussion, so you may as well just tell me." 

"Gustave is missing." 

Immediately, Raoul's frown deepened. "What?" 

"Gustave is missing, my-my son is missing," Erik repeated, running a shaky hand through his hair as those simple words made the situation all too real for him. 

"Wh- how? When did this happen?" Raoul asked, pushing aside his past with the ex-Phantom to try and get to the bottom of the matter at hand, and while the truth of Gustave's parentage stung, he could see Erik's distress plain and simple; he was a villain no more, but merely a frightened father instead. "I saw him at the theatre before I left, he was meant to stay there." 

"Yes, I know that much, but when Christine and I returned to her dressing room, he wasn't there. At first, I thought you had taken him, but it was confirmed that you left alone. Madame Giry isn't to blame either, so now we're trying to track Meg down." 

Raoul thought to himself for a moment, only for the blood to drain from his face as a realization dawned on him. "She goes swimming every morning, near the bar where we spoke." 

"Suicide Hall, oh my god," Erik breathed, exchanging a panicked glance with the Vicomte before he bolted towards Christine, who stood not far away, with Raoul right behind him. 

"Raoul?" Christine said with a frown, turning to Erik for answers. "What is he-" 

"Meg!" Erik yelled as he ran down the pier, his heart leaping into his throat when he saw his son held in the woman's arms. "Meg, stop, please!" 

"He's going to help, but we think we know where Meg took Gustave, come," Erik immediately replied as he took her hand and started running towards the seaside bar and pier. 

~

He immediately skidded to a stop, though, when he watched her pull a gun from behind her back to point it at him. "Stay there! I'll shoot if you don't! Or...or he'll end up in the water!" she threatened as she shuffled Gustave closer to the edge of the pier despite his efforts to squirm away. 

"No, Meg, please! Leave him out of this!" Erik pleaded, sighing shakily when he heard Christine crying quietly behind him. "Please let him go, Meg, please don't hurt him." 

"Why should I listen to you?! That's all I've done for ten years, only for you to refuse to even look my way!" the young Giry retorted. "And why does his safety matter to you so much? You hardly know him!" 

"Meg, he is only a child, he should not be caught up in something like this," Erik said calmly, his eyes locked on Gustave, who was looking right back at him with distress painted on his face. "Just leave him be and keep this between us." 

Meg shook her head, still holding Gustave tightly. "He is involved because he ties you to her! You couldn't just leave her behind, and then you had a child with her!" 

Erik's heart sunk when he heard her and watched a frown form on his son's face. "What?" the boy quietly asked. 

"And he didn't even know! The secrets never stop with you, do they?" Meg snapped, adjusting her hold on the gun still pointed at them. "The family resemblance is rather strong, though; he would have figured it out soon enough." 

"Meg...Meg, please let him go," Erik said quietly, fighting to keep his voice steady despite the tears starting to well up in his eyes. "He hasn't hurt anyone, leave him out of this fight." 

His fingers twitched as he waited for any sort of response or reaction from Meg, feeling Christine's hand on his back, gripping his suit coat, her anxiety palpable even though he couldn't see her. 

What made the situation all the more heartwrenching, though, was what he heard his son quietly say with tear-filled eyes: "Papa, help." 

"Oh, Meg, please let him go," Adele Giry piped up to say. "Let the boy go to his father, he has no part in this." 

It was another moment before Erik released the breath he'd been holding when Meg pushed Gustave forward and the boy ran right into his arms. "I've got you, Gustave, you're alright," he whispered, holding his son tightly when he felt how he was shaking, then turned around so Christine and Raoul could comfort him as well. 

As Gustave hugged his mother, he turned to look up at Erik. "So...so you're my real father?" he asked quietly. 

Erik sighed and gave him a weak smile. "I am. I'm sorry you only just found out and that it happened this way; the situation is very complicated. Still, I'm glad you had Raoul to take care of you until now." 

"So am I," Gustave replied, smiling back at him. "But I'm glad I have my real Papa now too." 

"As am I, Gustave." Erik reached out to hesitantly smooth down his child's hair and simply stood looking at him for a moment, ecstatic that he was safe, but even that didn't keep him from noticing the sound of a gun's hammer being pulled back from behind them. Whirling around, he had hardly registered the weapon aimed at them before he shoved Raoul out of the way just as a shot rang out. 

Then all he could feel was the searing pain in his abdomen. 

There were screams as he stumbled and collapsed, that much he knew; two women - Christine, undoubtedly, and Meg along with her - as well as his son...oh, his son. The boy he had only just discovered, yet loved with all his heart, and was at the risk of leaving forever before even getting to know him, raise him, love him even more or- 

"God, what did you do that for?" the Vicomte demanded, interrupting his train of thought for the second time that night. 

Erik managed to find the energy to focus again and looked up to see both Raoul and Christine hunched over him, both looking rather worried, though that was more true of the latter, naturally. 

"She was going to shoot you," Erik replied, stifling a groan as the Vicomte held his suit jacket to his wound to apply any pressure he could. 

"So her shooting you was a better alternative?" Raoul retorted. "You...you have a family here." 

Erik sighed quietly as he glanced up at Christine, who had moved to rest his head in her lap, then back to his former rival turned associate. "As do you." 

He noticed the Vicomte seemed to pause at that; he looked up from the gunshot wound to his face and the pressure on his abdomen lessened momentarily. Erik wasn't surprised that Raoul had seemed caught off guard; earlier that very day, they had been at each other's throats, fighting to call Gustave and Christine theirs. That said, neither of them could have foreseen the way the night would go, so quick decisions had to be made, that much Erik recognized. 

"Papa?" he heard a familiar, quiet voice say, which made him turn his head slightly to see Gustave next to his mother, fear all over his face and tears in his eyes, a few having already fallen onto his cheeks. "What's going to happen?" 

Oh, how badly he wished he could say that all would be well, but he could tell that wouldn't be the case; he could already feel his strength waning and his breaths becoming more laboured with each passing moment. 

"I'm sorry, Gustave. I wish you and I had had more time together," Erik said quietly, his heart aching as he watched his son simply shake his head in response. 

"But I don't want you to die, I want you to stay here with us," Gustave said before he leaned over and much to everyone's surprise, hugged his father. 

Erik winced slightly when he did but waved Raoul off when he began to tell Gustave to move. "I'm so sorry, my boy," he whispered, slowly moving his arm so as to avoid any extra pain and wrapping it around his son. "You're going to be alright, I promise." 

"Please stay, Papa. I don't want you to go," the boy replied just before a quiet sob escaped him and he buried his face in the crook of his father's neck. 

"Shh, no tears, Gustave. I'm sorry I cannot stay, but your maman has plenty of stories about me. I will never really go away, I promise you that." 

"And your Papa will never break a promise if it is in his power," Christine quietly added as she gently pulled Gustave up and held him close while she fought back tears of her own.

Raoul sighed as he looked at his wife and her son, then glanced back at Erik, pulling his jacket away and feeling his stomach twist slightly at the amount of blood stating his shirt and soaking through his waistcoat. One look at Erik's face and seeing the expressions of pain that he was trying and failing to hide told him enough; the man was dying and unless help arrived that very moment, there was nothing to be done about that fact. 

"They're going to be alright, Erik," he decided to say as he set his jacket to the wound again, even though he knew the ex-Phantom was well aware that it was pointless. "I am going to take care of them and I am going to do it right this time. Gustave deserves better than what I gave him, and if you can't be the one to do that, then...then I'll do it on your behalf." 

Erik managed a weak smile and nod in response. "Thank you," he said hoarsely. "I...I trust you." 

Raoul returned the nod and took Gustave into his arms when Christine leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Erik's forehead, then his lips. While a slight spark of jealousy flared up in his chest seeing that, he managed to smother it; the man was dying and deserved a moment with the woman he loved, the mother of his one and only child. Even someone with all his faults and flaws deserved that. 

"I love you, Erik," he heard Christine say as he gently smoothed down his hair, no doubt trying to soothe him in his final moments. That was her way, after all; gentility and kindness whenever possible. 

"As I love you, my angel," Erik whispered, lifting a slightly shaky hand to brush his knuckles against her cheek. "Thank you for...for all you've given me." 

When his wife finally allowed a sob to slip from her lips, even Raoul found himself getting teary-eyed seeing her in pain. Still, he gave the pair their space, settling to hold Gustave close and wait for the inevitable end to the situation at hand. 

"Oh, Christine," Erik said softly, a tear falling from his own eye, the Vicomte noticed, before his voice lifted into the weakest song he'd ever heard, which was undoubtedly all the man could manage: "Christine, don't weep, for I can finally sleep... I have heard you sing...once more." 

All was silent and still at that, and Raoul hugged Gustave even tighter as he noticed the rise and fall of Erik's chest had stopped, the hand that had been resting just above his injury slipping to fall onto the deck of the pier. 

"Papa?" Gustave asked quietly, lifting his head and looking over at his father's body as he started to sniffle again. "Papa, w-wake up." 

"Shh, Gustave, he's gone. I'm so sorry," Raoul whispered, cradling the boy's head to his shoulder and shuffling closer to his wife to wrap an arm around her while she hugged Erik's head against her chest. "I'm sorry, Christine." 

His wife simply nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of Erik's head before she turned to him. "Thank you," she whispered. 

"For what?" Raoul queried with a frown. 

"For everything you said. You brought him peace when he needed it and I can never thank you enough." 

With a small smile, the Vicomte leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Of course. He wanted his family to be safe and I wanted to reassure him that that would be a reality. He deserved to know that you two will be okay even when he isn't here to make sure of that himself, and I intend to ensure that happens." 

[itsthenovelteafactor]

Vanya and the Phantom

I asked and y’all answered (special thanks to @schizoidwire and @the-aro-ace-arrow-ace  and all the people who responded to my earlier post for encouraging me!), so it is time for how The Phantom of the Opera song introduction can be read as a look into Vanya’s self-narrative and also foreshadows future events in a really subtle and interesting way. 

I’m channeling my inner Elliot and going into full conspiracy mode. This is gonna be a long one, y’all. 

Part One: In Which I Expose Myself as a Former Theater Kid

So, for those who aren’t familiar with The Phantom of the Opera, it was originally a novel by French writer Gaston Leroux back in 1909. In 1986, Andrew Lloyd Webber rewrote it as a musical. For purposes of my analysis here, I am just going to be discussing the musical because 1) the score used in the opening scene is from it and 2) I’ve never read the book. (If anyone out there has read the book and wants to weigh in, please do!) 

It’s a very aesthetic show, and draws on a lot of gothic themes and imagery. The plot follows an opera house, and specifically a young chorus girl named Christine Daaé. I’m not going to explain the whole show plot in detail because wikipedia exists, but I will do a quick overview here and point out some things as they relate to things I’ll be discussing later. Also there will be a test after and it will NOT be multiple choice.

The show begins when the opera house is sold to new owners who 1) just want to make money and 2) do not respect the opera house’s resident ghost (who isn’t really a ghost, but we’ll get to that later.) When the Phantom makes his presence known, and freaks out the resident prima donna singer (who will be relevant later) Carlotta, who says she won’t sing under these conditions. It is then that Christine appears. She’s quiet and humble and has always lived in the background, but is incredibly talented. The woman who runs the chorus (also owner of the opera house’s resident braincell) suggests Christine sing the part. She does, and is amazing. Everyone is blown away, and she’s catapulted into instant fame and success. 

We later learn that Christine has been studying under the Phantom, who appears to her in mirrors. She calls him the Angel of Music, and thinks that he was sent to teach her by her recently deceased father. He isn’t. He’s actually pretty malicious, and is obsessed with Christine, wants to control her voice, and doesn’t like her dating anyone. Which is a bit awkward when her childhood friend shows up and promptly falls in love with her. 

Anyways, Carlotta is jealous of the attention Christine has been getting and threatens to leave prompting the new owners to cut Christine from the program. The Phantom doesn’t like it at all, sends a bunch of letters, things escalate, people are murdered, and the whole first act ends with the chandelier falling from the ceiling and crashing onto the stage (which is done with really cool effects, oftentimes beginning the show hanging over the audience. It’s a BIG MOMENT and one of the most iconic ones from the show. This will also be relevant later.)

Act two takes place a few months later, wherein no one has seen the Phantom. Shock of all shocks, though, he’s not dead. He’s been writing an opera and he wants Christine to star in it. More stuff happens, you learn the backstory of the Phantom (which is pretty sad, ngl, but in no way makes him less of a creep) and the story ends with the Phantom kidnapping Christine and giving her an ultimatum: stay with him forever, or he kills Raoul (aka childhood friend/romantic interest guy). She agrees to stay with him and he’s so moved by her compassion that he lets them both go and disappears forever. 

Part Two: Casting the Characters

That’s interesting, Rosie (note sarcasm) but you said this was about The Umbrella Academy? I did, in fact. So, we meet Vanya when she’s playing a medley of songs from The Phantom of the Opera. Since it’s primarily the melodies and not one of the orchestral pieces from her performance later (I don’t think), we can assume she’s just playing it for herself (which is nice! good on you, Vanya). 

Maybe she’s never seen the play and just likes the score, but for purposes here, let’s assume she’s familiar with it. 

You can tell a lot about a person by the stories they connect with (for example, I like TUA because I like fun sibling dynamics, found family, music, and being sad). And I think that it makes sense that The Phantom of the Opera would be a story that resonates with Vanya. The overlooked chorus girl finds power in music, and, after years in the background, is finally given a chance to show how special she is. 

So, yeah. I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibility that Vanya sees herself as Christine. There are some discrepancies, sure, but this is Vanya’s self-narrative, which we learn pretty much immediately is unreliable. (Love her, but it’s true.) And if Vanya is Christine, then we can try and tap into her perspective to look at some other characters. 

Anyways remember Carlotta (the prima donna opera singer who always got the spotlight and tried to destroy everything good that happened to Christine because she felt threatened that someone might be as good/better than her whose entire personality and role in the story I just summarized, rendering my plot recap useless)? Carlotta is how Vanya views Allison. (Kind of all her siblings, but her relationship with Allison is the most important here.)

Think about the scene in the cabin? 

“You couldn’t risk me threatening your place in the house! You couldn’t handle the fact that Dad might find me special!” - Vanya, having a mental breakdown.

This always struck me as an interesting accusation to throw, since prior to this moment, I don’t think there was any indication that Allison had ever felt threatened by Vanya. She excluded her, sure, and wasn’t super friendly at times, but the idea that Allison has been pulling strings to keep Vanya out of her spotlight is new. But that is exactly the role Carlotta plays in Phantom. 

Fun fact! At one point in the musical, the Phantom enchants Carlotta so that she loses her voice right before coming on stage. 

Part Three: The Phantom of the Opera is there

So based on everything I’ve said so far, the most straightforward reading is then, that Leonard Peabody/Harold Jenkins (who for purposes here I’ll call Leonard) is the stand in for the Phantom, which works... really well. Both in helping to understand Vanya and also because it foreshadows the twist of season one in a really cool way.

So, the Phantom appears to Christine first not as an enemy, but as a friend and teacher, who encourages her to be more confident in her abilities. He trains her to develop her singing ability. While the teacher-student dynamic is actually inverted initially with Vanya and Leonard, from the get go, he is showering her with compliments, encouraging her to be confident in her abilities, and, at least on the surface, supporting her in a way she hasn’t been supported before (he’s a trash human but an expert manipulator). 

But, in the play, the Phantom is also very possessive over Christine and her power (er, I mean voice). He also is perfectly willing to kill and/or hurt people who he views as standing in the way of Christine and her success (see the aforementioned Carlotta incident). Which is exactly what Leonard does to Vanya. He kills the first chair violinist to help her get it, and orchestrates a whole master plan to get her to reveal her powers on his terms. 

Even the part where he starts “training” her to use her powers kind of resembles the second act of the play. The Phantom wrote a play for Christine and she’s going to star in it, whether she wants to or not. 

(One could even make the argument of the parallels between Christine believing the Phantom was sent by her father to teach her and Leonard showing up because of his revenge scheme against Vanya’s father, but I honestly don’t have much support for that.) 

Part Three: Two Conflicting Narratives

So, as you might’ve noticed, I sort of have two different threads of analysis going on right now. 1) The Phantom of the Opera parallel is part of Vanya’s self-narrative and in it she mischaracterizes Allison, making her more suspicious of her motivations and 2) Leonard Peabody is clearly the Phantom and doesn’t bother being subtle about it. I hope that I’ve been convincing (or at least intriguing) for you to get to this point, because here is where they come together.

Vanya has this parallel going, but she doesn’t see Leonard as the Phantom. In the beginning at least, he’s her Raoul. If I had to guess, I’d say Reginald Hargreeves is the Phantom in Vanya’s self-narrative (says he’ll train her but wants to manipulate her and keep her locked away for himself, strict teacher who doesn’t really care about her well being, wearing a mask to appear more normal/human... she wouldn’t exactly be wrong). Leonard, on the other hand, is Vanya’s supporter. He validates her, and believes in her, and taker her side when Carlotta and the opera house owners (er, the rest of the Hargreeves children) gang up on her and conspire to keep her out. 

This is all building to, of course, the final confrontation. The Phantom says Christine has to pick one or the other. When Allison comes to talk to Vanya, Vanya feels as if she’s been given an ultimatum and lashes out.

And that’s where everything (including this parallel) starts to crumble. 

(I honestly don’t know a lot about the other characters and how they fit in. I suppose we could have Five = Raoul if we ignore romance plot and focus on the childhood friend that hasn’t been seen in a while angle? And maybe also Pogo = Madame Giry. Vanya doesn’t really have any friends to be Meg.) 

Part Four: It’s All About the Moon

So that is kind of the gist of The Phantom of the Opera as a window into Vanya’s self-narrative theory, but there are a couple of other loosely related ideas I thought I might as well bring up since this thing is already ridiculously long. 

Remember how I mentioned the chandelier is like, THE scene from The Phantom of the Opera back in part one, and said it’d be relevant later? Bringing that back now, because I’m going to pull a Luther and connect everything to the moon. 

So, to get the obvious out of the way, the moon exploding and the chandelier coming crashing to the stage are similar because something falls, breaks into a bunch of pieces, destroys a bunch of stuff, and creates a powerful and memorable image to close off before an act/season break (the next installment of which begins with a time jump). 

Additionally, it’s worth mentioning that The Phantom of the Opera is told out of order. The opening scene shows a grown up Raoul at an auction for the items left behind after the opera house closes, and it switches to the past as the remains of the chandelier rise upwards to the ceiling, Phantom’s theme swelling (it’s a really cool moment, tbh). Following the prologue of The Umbrella Academy, we switch to the present with two images: Vanya alone on the stage, and then Luther alone on the moon. Which has a kind of symmetry that might mean nothing, but is still kind of cool. 

(Also the item that Raoul buys from the auction is a music box with a monkey crashing symbols on top of it. Which might mean nothing.) 

Part Five: How is she STILL talking about this? (AKA Conclusion)

To be honest, this is more a very tangled “things I noticed and thought were interesting” discussion than a formal essay with any clear thesis. While there is a chance that this was all coincidental and I’ve gone full Pepe Sylvia, the music selection in The Umbrella Academy is one of the things that they seem to be really deliberate about. 

I would love to chat with anyone about this theory, so feel free to reach out in the notes or message me! My inbox is always open. Much love, and thank you for reading, if you got this far! ❤️

[meet-me-at-box5]

My father returned to me with my new mask. Or should I say 'my dad'? He told me to call him 'dad' because 'father' sounded too formal, like Raoul.

"Gustave," Dad said. "You know how your aunt Espen and I are talking about family initiation?"

"Yes," I replied. It was all they've been talking about for the entire time I have been staying at Coney Island.

"I know you are curious and have loads of questions," he began. "So I am going to tell you about our family initiation. Just don't tell Aunt Espen. Normally, initiation takes place in a secret basement in the Louvre. Other years, it has taken place in the basement of the Opera Populaire, which was the main reason why I was waiting down there. My family didn't come to me until two years ago. Usually, they kidnap you. That's what happened to me. We are going to have to bring you to them since our family doesn't know about your existence. What happens is you become immortal-"

"Immortal?" I asked. "How?"

"I was just about to get to that," Dad pointed out. He continued, "The family stands around a bonfire and sings a special song in an ancient language. Using a special knife made of diamond forged from the earth a thousand years ago by our family that is still living, a slit is cut across your left wrist. The blood is added to the fire and it turns into an unnatural magenta color. You repeat after the eldest family member some vows saying that you will never stop composing or singing or being away from music. Once the vows are finished being spoken, you are sent to sleep. Then you wake up the next day and your blood is replaced by the purest of pure music. The only way you can die is by either stopping singing or composing, staying away from music for too long, denying the vows, bubonic plague, and being stabbed by the same knife that made you immortal. It's all very complicated and even I don't fully understand it because I've only been to one and that was my own. Do you have any questions?"

"Yes," I said. "What is our last name?"

"We don't really have one," he answered. "But for Phantasma reasons, our last name is Y. For normal reasons, it is Destler. But, again, we do not really have a last name."

"When will I be initiated?" I asked.

"When you are eighteen years of age," he replied. "And because initiation is in Paris, you will remain to wear your mask. We cannot risk you being seen by Raoul. That lying drunk whore won't probably recognize you, but again, we cannot risk it."

I gulped. I couldn't possibly retain this information. My father being immortal, Aunt Espen being immortal, and eventually me being immortal when I reach eighteen years of age. Though I can keep secrets, I do not know how to keep this one. I want to be immortal and unaging, believe me, but at the same time I don't. I want to live my life to its fullest but Dad is all I have as family and he doesn't want me to step outside of this building I'm confined in. I am the closest thing to true love he has. I'm closer to him than Aunt Espen, Meg, and even Madame Giry, even though I've only known him for a week. And I miss my mother, on top of everything. I want to join her in the heavens but I can't. I have to stay on Earth with my dad. Like a good son would. A good son would become immortal for his Dad, right?

(I just now realized that this doesn't have a title and I can't add one. This is Chapter 3 of my LND phanfic, Beneath A Full Moon Sky)

[peachyunjinnie]

— 07. https://sugarbaby.com  | bgc

bang chan/reader/ ― ft. hyunjin | minho’s warning | sugarbaby!au mafia!au

wordcount: 1.1k

content warnings: minho almost punishing y/n.

― synopsis: through your urgent and acute need for any kind of financial income, you see the ad of a sugarbaby website. you decide to overcome your pride and hit ‘sign up’.

note: you wanted y/n to escape and i will give you what you want. this part kinda came out spontaneously. so enjoy. and i want to see how desperate you all are for minho to punish the reader.

⤿ taglist: @seungmins-sunshine @mikoto-ica-fics @britishvamps @thealert @mini-meanhoe @lilacyeonjun @cloudqyong @channiesmixtape @lixieslexie​ @xleesakura send a ☁ to be added or taken out.

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© peachyunjinnie 2020. do not repost, modify, or translate.

I had to get out of here, right away. But to get my plan in trouble for this and betray their trust? Or if they take me back and catch me? What am I supposed to do now? Risk it and run away but with the chance that I will be discovered and something happens? Or stay here and play it safe?

I double checked the door lock and looked around the room to inspect any cameras or some kind of electronic thing that should not be in my room. After a short while I can finally put on some shoes they probably have gotten me when I was unconscious. Tightened the laces into a double knot and stuffed my hair in the hoodie to prevent any kind of interaction with them to my face.

Thank god I was in the first floor and thanks to the moonlight I could see something. I jumped out to be greeted by the thorns and the flowers that were blooming out of the ground. It was a pretty chilly night and my breath was visibly shaky. My heart dropped down to my stomach and my eyes started to water a bit. I had escaped now. I fixed myself a bit before I started to run for help. I remember that I was running and running, no sign of any kind of person out there. I was looking around to find a sign of any kind of human interaction but I was disappointed. I ran towards a track outside this mansion and could not stop moving my feet to get me out of there, no matter how tired I was getting. I kept my feet moving. There was absolutely nothing around me, no people, no cars. Only streetlights to slighty light up the empty road ahead of me.

"What are you doing giry girl?" I felt a hand on my arm and instantly jumped up. I couldn't help but yelp loudly and probably woke the whole mansion up. I turned around and could see the face of the one person I wanted to see the least. With baggy clothing and a cap on I couldn't really see who it was, but that cocky and bossy undertone in his voice was more than clear to know who it was.

"Let me go Minho!" I shouted at him and tried my hardest to pull my arm out of his grip but his hand would not move one bit.

"What should I do with you now?" He tugged my arm and yanked me to the mansion again. He opened the door as quiet as possible. I thought about every way I could handle this situation but it ends up in me getting my mouth sew shut.

"Let me go, Minho." I whisper shouted again and could not get his iron grip off of me. I was shaking and wiggling around to get this hand off.

He slammed me in his room and pushed me against the wall of his red and black kept dungeon. I breathed slowly and flat to not make any body part to move anymore. My eyes were stuck to the ground and were too shaky to move upwards to look at him.

“If you ever call me Minho again I will fill up your pretty little mouth, girly girl.” He was pushing my arms against the wall and grabbed my face hardly and got my eyes to look up at him. I noticed his eyes reflecting the red LED light and giving his hard features a more amused look in them.

“Get on my fucking bed.” He hissed out at my face and did not have any sarcastic undertone in his voice whatsoever. I was scared and waited for him to say it was a joke but he stood there with no intention of doing so.

“A-Are you kidding? No way!” I shook my head fast and stared at his expressionless face. He was calm, way too calm for my answer. My heartbeat increased into a couple of beats and he just grabbed the back of my neck and threw me on his black bed. In the exact moment my back hit the mattress I knew that this night would either result me in being dead or wanting to be dead. I felt the blood rushing through my body and every single heartbeat I had. You could say I was more than nervous on what this more than scary human being would do to me now.

He came towards me in a cat like way and quickly hovered over me and the erotic light surrounding this now hot aura. I couldn’t breath for a moment and just fell in such a deep trance from the stare he gave me. The atmosphere between us started to rise fast and uncontrollably

“Will you ever sneak out again?” He asked dead serious. I saw his eyes somehow softening a bit. He kept his elbows stable on each side of my head. My face heated up and I shook my head fast, not being able to get one single word out. 

“Come on. You have such confidence getting out of this house and now you can’t even use your words, girly girl.” He hissed out at me with a big smirk painted on his lips. He obviously enjoyed watching me struggle with my words not coming out.

“I-I won’t d-do it again.” I whispered and he chuckled darkly. 

“Either you say that louder or I will make you scream.”

“I won’t do i-it again, Lee Know.” He smiled at me and stood up from me. I never jumped so quickly from a bed before than right now in this exact moment. I already wanted to pass the door but got stopped by his hand holding me there and turning me around.

“I don’t do second chances.” He purred out with his hair pushed back.