#opera singer for hire

[germangholami]

German Gholami - Wedding Singer for hire: A professional wedding singer for your special wedding ceremony. https://www.tenorforhire.com/wedding.php

[bluebudgie]

The ff6 pixel remaster forces the rearranged ost on you during the opera scene even if you have the og ost option selected and it's by far the most godawful rendition of aria di mezzo carattere ive ever heard in my life T-T god help me

[widevibratobitch]

Thanks for your post explaining the situation surrounding Mariusz quitting his job! You write: "As someone who lives in Wrocław and is a student at its Music Academy I can only tell you - he was... not much liked, to put it lightly, by the Big People". By all means, he was a celebrated opera singer in Europe and the USA. What made them dislike him so much?

oh goodness gracious, i really cant say, why would you even ask me that! im the last person who'd engage in such shameless gossiping!

sike lol

i never heard anyone say he was not a great artist. no one doubted that. people only questioned whether he was the right guy for the job, only having experience as a singer, a perfomer, no matter how renowned. or rather, the main issue was - how much, having no experience in the position he now occupied, he was earning. because that really was an insane (and i mean. INSANE) amount of money.

Ołdakowska getting the job of the director was also a pretty controversial thing, so automatically, people who weren't in favour of her winning, didn't also like Kwiecień since she was the one who chose him for the job.

then there was the issue of the changes Mariusz wanted to make. he was in favour of promoting young, new singers and hiring big names for guest performances, ergo, many of the singers who had already been hired full-time for years by the opera house in Wrocław stopped getting big roles etc. no roles - no money (or rather, very little money, the bare minimum actually). this, coupled with the amount Kwiecień was earning... well.

he and Ołdakowska also promised Big Things but sadly they both got the jobs in the beginning of 2020 and we all know what happened then, not much could actually be done when the entire world was more or less paralysed by the pandemic.

and yeah, that's more or less it. id say, tl;dr in the end it's always all about money. and some personal beef he may or may not have had with some people, i really can't say cause that's all i know.

[vintagetvstars]

Leonard Nimoy Vs. Avery Brooks

Propaganda

Leonard Nimoy - (Star Trek, Mission: Impossible) - actor, director, musician, writer, photographer and mensch whose hotness as spock CHANGED THE WORLD

Avery Brooks - (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Spenser: For Hire) - ben sisko absolute all time tv dilf and have you heard him SPEAK... the stage background absolutely shows and it truly makes him a standout in a legacy franchise *full* of incredibly talented people. also frankly top 3 all time sexy bald guy

- No Negative Propaganda Please -

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Leonard Nimoy:

This is the Spock website, come on

its leonard nimoy......

Avery Brooks:

Avery is a certified TV sci-fi hottie as Benjamin Sisko in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. The first black star trek Captain, he also negotiated his signature look - the bald head and goatee - against haters who thought a Captain should always be clean-shaven. Thank God for that, because he looks devastatingly hot in a a goatee (a phrase never before uttered). He went on to direct several episodes of DS9, use his pleasant voice to record music and multiple host documentaries, and mostly retire from acting to teach as a professor.

TW: Flashing Lights

with that wonderful stentorian baritone voice he could move from intimidating commander to gentle and compassionate space dad...benjamin sisko is a man of many qualities, thoughtful, morally complex, understatedly hilarious, a lil unhinged, really really excited about baseball, and avery brooks never fails to breathe life, depth and dimension into the character and also did i mention his voice. fun fact he was a professor of theater arts at rutgers while filming deep space nine and would occasionally teach classes via vhs tapes recorded on set, complete with starfleet uniform. he also directed a number of ds9 episodes including notable ones like "rejoined" and "far beyond the stars", and performed many of his own stunts as sisko. stunt coordinator dennis madalone said, "of all the stars that I've worked with on all the Star Treks, and all the other shows that I've been on other than Star Trek, I've never seen an actor so physically capable of just doing everything...every time I'd bring in a stunt double, he'd be angry, sitting on a bench, because Avery was doing so great." he's also a distinguished stage actor and an accomplished musician and singer who's performed everything from jazz to opera. science has yet to discover whether there's anything this man can't do.

[homunculus-argument]

There's this thing in art that I've decided to call "comical clash of craft capacity", which is the thing where something absurd is only funny because of the sheer talent and/or effort that went into making it. The actor making a spot on dead serious delivery of lines that are utterly idiotic in a scene that makes no sense. Someone epressing astonishing creativity in animating an intense fight scene for a shitpost video of two friends on their epic quest to acquire pictures of anime tiddies. Hiring an actual opera singer as the voice actor of a character who is literally a singing turd.

Things that just flat-out would not be funny without the extremely professional delivery and the sheer effort involved, done intentionally with unwavering self-awareness and confidence in their skill, knowing that this is a game where you win or you die. Can't use a condom when going balls deep into a pumpkin.

[littlechivalry]

Wedding Bell Blues

(no Upside Down AU, meet-ugly, Baker!Steve/wedding singer!Eddie)

--

Eddie is a wedding musician and it's pretty great actually. It's not the rock star life he dreamed of but it's a damned sight better than most people including him expected of Al Munson's little boy.

Eddie gets to play music. For a living. And he does pretty well. He gets to dress up a little snazzy. He gets free fancy food and a couple of drinks. And he gets to shoot his shot with anybody that looks like fun.

He's good at it too. That's the best part. His younger years spent being a low level drug dealer and a high level weirdo mean he can read a room in an instant. He gets the playlist from the bride usually, presses for some other song ideas, and he can tell who to take requests from at six paces. And who to ignore from across the room.

It's a good time.

Unfortunately not all ceremonies can be winners and based on the tension Eddie has felt from almost everyone involved in today's wedding it was going to be a tough gig.

Everything starts in an hour but Eddie isn't on until the reception so he has plenty of time to grab a smoke before soundcheck. He knows the venue pretty well and there's an alcove next to the vendor loading area. Nice flowers, a decent bench, and it's nowhere near the dumpsters.

This venue butts up against a small patch of woodland and Eddie wonders if he might have time to check it out, see if there's anything inspiring. He doesn't hike but he does enjoy a walk in nature.

Before he gets the chance a baby blue van with 'Steve's Sweets' painted across the side pulls up, blocking his sight line.

He mourns the loss of his view right up until the driver pops the door open and climbs out.

Oh, the beauties nature provides.

Acid wash jeans which under any other circumstances Eddie would laugh at are lovingly hugging possibly the finest ass he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.

The rest of the picture - when he can drag his attention away - is pretty choice too. A soft looking pink sweater, sleeves pushed up to expose sun bronzed skin making Eddie idly wonder if the man is that tan all over.

The crowning glory is a gorgeous head of hair framing a face that Eddie can only describe as pretty.

Eddie tries to turn his attention back to his cigarette. Admiring someone is one thing, leering like a creep is entirely different.

He takes a last drag and drops the filter on the gravel, grinding it out under his feet. Mentally he says farewell to the handsome stranger and turns to go back inside.

Eddie takes two steps before a suit clad man comes out of the building and pushes past him in a rush.

"Steven."

The man's not yelling, but his voice is the kind of loud that demands to be heard.

Eddie turns to watch as the man approaches the van and the other guy, Steve apparently, standing in front of it.

"What the hell are you doing here dressed like that."

Eddie should go inside. This isn't his business. But one of the perks of working weddings was the drama and this was very promising.

He stays where he is, standing just in front of the door. In case either man looks in his direction Eddie actually mimes patting at his jacket like he is looking for his smokes.

"I'm delivering a cake, Dick. And if it wasn't for Diana I wouldn't even be doing that much. She deserves to get something good out of this day."

Eddie bites back a smile, lowering his head a little so he can still watch what was happening ideally without being noticed.

"You will refer to me as father. I believe I have earned at least that much respect."

Eddie feels his eyebrows rise. This kind of drama was another part of why he likes weddings. Better than the soap operas he watches with Uncle Wayne.

"Sure," Steve snorts. "Tell you what, I'll compromise," and he continues, "Riiichaaaard."

"Grow up, Steven. You were invited here as a guest. You had better have a tuxedo in that stupid truck of yours, the ceremony starts in an hour."

"I was hired to bake a cake. Part of my fee includes delivery. That is literally the only reason I'm here. You and the future ex-Mrs Harrington will have to celebrate without me. Try not to cry yourself to sleep about it."

"You little asshole," Richard snarls. "You think you're better than me. You think I wanted you here? You owe me your presence. I have important people coming to this wedding and I need them to see my dutiful son at my side."

The baker laughs, a low nasty chuckle that sends a perverse shiver down Eddie's back.

"Tell you what, Dick, I'm booked up today but I'll come to your next wedding." Eddie looks up to see Steve is grinning, bright and as sharp as a knife. "I'll even get you a toaster."

Eddie lurches in place as he sees Richard lunge towards Steve. He is too far away to stop the man but he has to do something.

Before he takes a step the door swings open again and a petite woman comes rushing out.

"Richard?"

Eddie watches as she runs forward tugging at the satin bathrobe she is wrapped in. She freezes a few feet away from what had been brewing into a nasty fight.

"Steve? You're here-- oh, but your suit! Richard? What's going on?"

The older man doesn't turn around, doesn't seem to notice her at all but Eddie watches Steve gingerly move until he is standing between his father and the woman.

"Hey Diana," he says softly. "Sorry you had to see this, dad and me just have a difference of opinion. Everything's fine."

Eddie feels something in him clench. He is very familiar with the tone in Steve's voice. He had heard it from his uncle Wayne to his dad when he was a little kid. It is soft but firm, implacable. Eddie isn't sure exactly what is coming but he can tell Steve knew and that it would be bad.

The venue usually had at least two security patrolling the grounds, more if the reception was expected to be contentious. Eddie doesn't know where they are right now but hopefully not far.

"See what you've done Steven? God, you're useless."

"Richard, don't say that," Diana says, her voice rising.

The older man is turning from pink to red and Eddie can see Steve moving slowly, shifting his father's attention to him.

"That's me, Richard. Useless Steve. Flunked out of college and he bakes cookies like some kind of fairy. You sure you want to parade your failure of a son in front of the hoi polloi?"

Eddie hears Diana's gasp from where he's standing. "Steve, what are you talking about? Richard what's going on?"

Richard turns his glare on her and Eddie feels himself moving forward almost against his own will. He's not sure what he'll do when he gets there but he's never been the bystander type.

Steve just laughs. Bright and angry. "I'm not sure what my father told you about our relationship but we don't have one."

"No," she says. "Your father-- he told me-- "

When Eddie met her a few weeks ago he had seen a confident, charming woman that knew exactly what she wanted and was excited to be married. Now she looks confused, maybe even scared.

Eddie has gotten closer to this whole altercation than he wanted to be but since he is there and it looks like Steve and Richard are busy trying to glare holes in each other Eddie steps up to Diana and lightly grasps her elbow.

She startles and turns to face him. Her eyes are wide, wet and staring.

"Mr. Munson," she asks, softly.

Eddie tries to smile. "Mr. Munson is my uncle, ma'am. It's Eddie. Let's get you out of here, okay? Back inside."

Eddie is able to gently guide her a few steps away. He hates turning his back on the other two men but he needs to get Diana out of reach for whatever is about to happen.

"I dont understand," the bride mutters. "Steve used to be such a sweet boy. Mr. Harrin-- Richard. Oh, I'm so silly. Richard. He said-- this is so embarassing."

Her voice is pitched and tight and if she isn't crying yet she would be soon. Eddie resolves to get her inside and into the arms of literally any friendly face.

"Hey," Eddie says. "Let's just--" he scrambles for a name. Anna? Annie? "Amy, right? Your maid of honor? Let's get you to her, okay. You can sit down."

Diana nods.

Behind him he can hear Richard and Steve hissing noxious words back and forth. There is no shouting but the air is heavy and hot with anger. Even though he was outside Eddie feels like he can't breathe.

Eddie gets Diana to the door, hadn't realized how close they really were, maybe 30 feet if that. It's open, anxious faces framed in weathered oak. He hands Diana off to her Maid of Honor who quickly sweeps the woman deeper into the hall and then he nods to Patricia Abernathy, the event space manager.

"Think we're gonna have a cancellation," he says, nodding towards the departing woman.

She rolls her eyes. "Can't say I'm surprised. I had a bad feeling about this one."

Eddie scoffs. "You have a bad feeling about all of them."

He turns to face where the two men are still in a stand off in front of the van. "You're not wrong though, I think. At least I hope they cancel."

Patricia snorts. "We got the deposits locked down and the contract is airtight so if they cancel we still get fifty percent of the remaining fee. I'll take that for the rest of the day off."

"You got a date, Patty? And it's not me? You're breaking my heart."

"Ha," she says flatly. "That pretty boy is more your type and from the way he's talking you're in with a chance. Now you keep an eye on those two. Security is on their way, we'll see if they can get here before these guys start really butting heads."

Eddie nods. It isn't the first time he had been called on to help manage fractious families.

He turns back in time to see Richard take a swing at Steve. The younger guy steps back out of the way and Eddie can hear his mocking laugh as far away as the door.

He moves closer to the two of them. Eddie isn't going to get in the middle of the fight but maybe if he reminds them there are other people around that might be enough to calm them down.

He watches Richard lunge forward and swing again. This time Steve can't move away fast enough and the blow glances off of his cheek.

"Hey," Eddie calls, now jogging towards them. "Hey, knock it off! You wanna fight take it somewhere else!"

Steve turns to face Eddie, opening his mouth as if he was going to say something but all that comes out is a low grunt as Richard hits him in the shoulder and shoves him to the ground.

Eddie throws himself forward, pushing Richard away. "What do you think you're doing," he shouts in the man's face but Richard doesn't seem to hear, pressing back against Eddie.

"You little bastard," Richard shouts at his son. "You're worthless! I don't know why I bothered."

"Go to hell," Steve replies.

That seems to make Richard even angrier which Eddie hadn't thought was possible. He isn't sure he will be able to hold him off much longer.

"Hey, what's going on here," a low even voice calls. It is the venue security guard, his partner just behind him with a hand on his radio.

Eddie feels himself relax and then stumbles back as Richard pushes him aside to fall on his son again.

Eddie turns to see both guards trying to pull the older man away as he continues to hit his son, screaming obscenities.

Not sure how to help, Eddie stands by. When he sees an opening he lunges forward and takes hold of Steve's shoulders, pulling him back and away.

The younger man fights against him at first, eyes closed and arms up in front of his face.  Eddie figures he probably didn't know whose hands are on him.

"Hey. Hey. It's me, Eddie. Shit. I work here. You're safe, security has your dad. You're safe."

Eddie steps back, loosening his grip on Steve but still keeping one hand on his shoulder, trying to sooth him.

A few feet away Richard is still twisting, trying to get free and attack his son again, but Eddie can see the guards have a good hold on him and it doesn't look like they will be letting go any time soon.

As Steve calms down Eddie lets go of his shoulder, instead crouching next to him. "You doing okay? I saw you had you hands up but he got a few hits in."

Steve lowers his arms and sits upright. He twists his neck back and forth and shifts his shoulders before opening his eyes and looking up at Eddie. "I'm okay. I'm fine. God, it's a soap opera isn't it? Fuck."

Eddie lets himself drop into a seat next to the other man. They both watch in silence as the guards march Steve's father around the corner to the front of the event hall.

"You know the bride? Diana," the guy asks. "She was my babysitter. When I was eleven."

"Oof," Eddie says. "So she was--"

"Seventeen then, and now it's been twenty years for her and about three wives for him."

"Scandalous," Eddie murmurs. He sees Steve smile and feels relieved. "What will people say. The 'hoi polloi' I believe you called them?"

Steve snorts. "A crowd of empty suits that exist solely to tell my dad how respected he is. Will he get arrested?"

"Maybe," Eddie says. "I think that might be up to you. It's assault at least."

"Ugh," Steve says, rubbing his face. "That's all I need. I'm trying to get him out of my life."

"Well," Eddie says. "I can attest that jail is very good at keeping deadbeat dads out of your life."

Steve starts laughing and then winces, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

"Shit, you are hurt," Eddie says, scrambling to his feet. "Do you need an ambulance? Patty probably called 911 by now."

Steve waves him off. "I'm fine. This is not my first fight and my old man hits-- well, I was gonna say 'like a girl' but then my best friend would kick my ass and I'm way more scared of her," Steve says, laughing softly.

He looks up at Eddie and holds out his free hand. "You gonna help me up? Or is chivalry dead?"

"Chivalry," Eddie repeats. "You a damsel in distress?"

"I might as well be," Steve says. "Now come on."

Eddie laughs and reaches down, gently guiding Steve back to his feet. He feels the man's weight leaning on him for a few seconds and despite the circumstances Eddie has to admit Steve feels good in his arms.

Once he is steady Steve steps back and Eddie lets him go.

Steve moves to the van and leans up against the metal surface. Eddie walks over to join him.

"So," Steve says. "What next?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I honestly don't know. The wedding is canceled, for sure. For today at least."

"Just for today? You think she'll marry him still?"

Eddie shrugs. "I have no idea. I wouldn't but then I wouldn't have said yes in the first place."

Steve leans back, tapping his head against the van a few times before he turns back to Eddie. "You know the worst part? This was my last delivery. Now, I have to deal with this stupid cake. Three tiers of lemon and raspberry." He laughs. "Do you think a homeless shelter will take a wedding cake?"

Eddie grins. "I don't see why not. At least something good will come out of today."

Steve looks up towards the hall. "I feel like I should say something-- to Diana, I mean. She was always really nice to me, she deserved better than this."

"I have found that good or bad people rarely get what they deserve. You don't really owe her anything but I can't fault the impulse." Turning towards the hall, Eddie gestures for Steve to follow him. "Just-- just don't apologize for him? Okay?"

Steve walks in silence for a few steps before he coughs roughly. His voice is thick and choked and he coughs again. "I, uh, I stopped apologizing for him a long time ago. His faults are his own. I just wish I didn't get dragged into it."

Eddie laughs. "I know that song."

"Yeah," Steve asks.

Eddie nods. They are at the door and he pulls it open for the other man, gesturing him in with a bow.

Steve stops in the doorway as Eddie stands up again. He is framed by the light inside and the scent of hothouse roses comes drifting out into the open air. Eddie can picture him suddenly in that moment standing at a balcony limned by moonlight.

"Hey Sunshine," Eddie says softly. "Buy me a drink and we can trade stories?"

Steve smiles. "Yeah," he says, with a small laugh. "Sure, why not." He holds up his hands, still dirty and scraped from the asphalt. "Help me get cleaned up and let me say something to Diana. Then we can talk."

Eddie nods, reaches out, and places his hands gently over Steve's. "Sounds good to me."

[achamocha]

Another thing that really irks me about the whole Genshin thing is people (AND THE OFFICIAL HOYOVERSE RESPONSE) using the "It's a fantasy world" card to justify the butchering of our cultures.

It wasn't "just a fantasy world" when they based Liyue on real world locations.

It wasn't "just a fantasy world" when they released a half an hour documentary on how they designed a character based on the Pekin Opera, from the many iterations of character design to hiring a professional Opera singer to voice her singing.

It wasn't "just a fantasy world" when they released ANOTHER half an hour documentary on how they designed Gaming, the traditional dancer.

When it's about their own culture they pride themselves in accuracy and respectfulness, but when it's someone else's culture it's "just a fantasy world"?

Where was this work for Natlan? Where was this respectfulness? Where was this love?

[cherubimcore]

phantom of the opera ! au

pairing: logan x reader

author's notes: i have been writing this since last month, i still don't think is really that good but i'm happy with it, i did re-read the phantom of the opera and did my research to write this fic (still i could have made some mistakes) so after saying all that happy halloween! 🎃

“the phantom of the opera really existed, but he wasn’t a cold translucent body that resembles a person nor a floating sheet with holes for eyes, the phantom of the opera was a broken man with such a guilt on his shoulders that made him feel like a monster, everyone thought of him as a monster but every time i looked at him i only saw a man that suffered his entire life, that needed someone to love and cherish him despite his flaws and i love i love i love him and he loves me back with the same passion”

- (l/n), (y/n). diary of (y/n), 1870

your day ended with whispers amid young dancers and singers in the dressing room.

“i saw the phantom today while we performed!”

“you saw him?”

“as plainly as i see you!”

“what does he look like? please tell us!”

while taking off your corset you started to pay attention to their words when you heard the mention of this phantom, everyone was uneasy (to say the least) in the opera house because of the rumors of a ghost wandering around, especially after the death of the stagehand after a performance not long ago.

“well… he was in one of the boxes, box five you know, the box on the grand tier, next to the stage-box, on the left”

“this is ridiculous!” you said, a hand on the hip and furrowed brows “you wouldn’t be able to see anything in box five from the stage, let alone a person!”

“it wasn’t a person!” the girl you still haven’t learned the name snapped as if she couldn’t believe someone was doubting her testimony, she then sat down again with a terrified expression “it was him, i’m sure of it, the phantom! it was the monster that killed mr. buquet!”

“mr. buquet was found hanged” you clarified trying to put some sense in the girl’s head, as much as you were also scared of the thought of working in a haunted opera with a killer ghost, you also tries to use logic in every aspect of your life, and everything related to this rumor was not logic “he killed himself, that had nothing to do with this phantom of your because he simply isn’t real”

another one of the girls who hadn’t been talking all that much clenched her fists.

“i want to hear you say that when he comes after you!” she hissed “let’s go, girls”

the other dancers gathered their belongings and left the room.

in a blink of an eye you were alone.

it was already difficult enough being the new girl, but now you were the new girl everybody hated.

with a sigh you plop down on a chair in the corner of the room and start to think.

there were things concerning you more than this stupid rumor, worries that came before you got hired in the opera.

you always loved to sing, with both your parents being musicians, you were surrounded by music since you were born and throughout your life the only thing that made you keep going was your dream of becoming a lead soprano, the lead soprano, someone who’s voice would be remembered for the rest of eternity, so you practiced and practiced and practiced to one day perform on stage and hear the praises of the public, infatuated with your voice.

but after the death of your parents you stopped singing completely, not feeling the joy you once felt only the grief consuming your soul, it took years for you to start singing again and by the time you started once again, you were already a bit rusty, but you couldn’t give up, even if your parents weren’t here anymore you would make them proud.

but doubts always lingered in your mind ever since you got hired in the palais garnier: what if you couldn’t make your parents proud? what if you weren’t good enough? what if even if you practiced 24/7, 7 days a week you still wouldn’t get the lead soprano role like you always wanted?

what if you simply were a failure?

your took a deep breath feeling tears running down your cheeks and quickly dried them with the sleeve of your costume.

you get up determined to bury those thoughts so deep inside you they wouldn’t be able to claw their way back and ruin you.

you were going to be the lead soprano.

people will love your voice.

your parents will be proud.

whatever it takes.

a couple days later after making that promise you were in your dressing room after another performance still breathing heavily from the intensity of the spectacle, behind your door you could hear whispers and footsteps meaning people were already leaving the opera for the night, you knew you needed to leave sooner or later but your mistakes on stage kept plaguing your mind, it had been days since you had a proper night of sleep and some of your co-workers started to take notice of the heavy bags under your eyes but you simply couldn’t sleep knowing your goal was so far away, especially when you caught the other singers saying you were “singing like a crock”after practice, questioning how someone like you has been hired in the infamous palais garnier.

so you wouldn’t sleep, if you wanted to be better than all of them you needed to practice twice as hard.

you took a deep breath while locking the door to make sure no one would interrupt you and started to undress from your cherubino costume, you still didn’t know why the directors made you play a breeches role even if it your voice wasn’t the right tone for this character, and put some actual comfortable clothes before taking off your make-up.

with one more look at the mirror you started to sing.

your sweet yet insecure voice filled your dressing room, it was a promising voice, but it lacked control and you knew it, your voice faltered at some point making you sigh, frustrated. you couldn’t reach the higher notes and it tormented you, with a groan you opened your mouth to start again.

but before any sound could come out of your throat you felt a presence in the room.

suddenly a deep and seductive voice echoed off the walls, as if coming from every corner at once “you are forcing it”

your breath was caught in your chest as you looked around, but saw no one.

“who’s there?” you asked with a trembling voice.

“someone who can help you, if you trust me”

a shiver ran down your spine.

it was him.

you just knew it.

the phantom.

somehow he passed through your locked door, now you were the one locked inside with him.

“why should i trust you?” you replied with more courage than you actually felt.

“because i can make you into what you wish to be and more, everything you dream can be yours… if you accept me as your mentor.”

you hesitated, torn between fear and a strange attraction, feeling a shiver run down your spine. you knew you should fear this man, you knew you should get out of the room screaming for your life, but the promise he made, to reach the greatness you so desired, was irresistible.

“yes” you whispered, sealing your fate.

from that night on, the phantom became your shadow, guiding you through every note, shaping your voice until perfection, but his presence was overwhelming. you felt his gaze at all times, as if he could see through you, knowing every thought, every emotion, you even questioned at one point if he could actually read your mind.

your classes first started in your own dressing room, you remembered the first time you actually saw him, after countless times asking him to show himself, you lost your breath, the man was breathtaking, he had a strong built body beneath dress-clothes that hugged his body perfectly even with those clothes you could tell he had a hirsute physique especially because of his mutton chop sideburns, he also had a unique hairstyle that reminded you of cat ears for some reason.

“you…” you looked at him puzzled “you are the phantom of the opera?”

the man chuckles while looking around the room lit by a soft light, the only thing he could think about was how he never had seen it so close.

“that’s what they call me?” he smiled at you, you noticed he had animal-like canine teeth, a small detail that, alongside his other features, made your knees weak.

you smiled at him.

“what should i call you?” you asked “since you are my mentor now, how do you want me to call you?”

he looked a little shocked when you make that question, as if no one had asked him that in a long time.

“logan” the man you once called phantom answered, a little out of breath “you can call me logan…”

overtime, something strange began to happen, it wasn’t just your voice that was changing, your heart raced every time you heard his voice. you longed for his teaching, for his presence.

logan also started to change, instead of coaching you as far away as possible he started to get closer and closer to you, slowly he would open up about his past but nothing that would indicate how logan ended up in the opera house and you were scared to ask questions and end up pushing him away, what had started as mere admiration on both parts grew into something deeper and darker.

you began to seek him out, even when he didn’t call you, the thing you most wanted was to see who the man behind the grumpy face was, why was he living in the opera? where were his family? what was he hiding?

your heart races with an inexplicable pull towards logan, a fascination you can no longer deny, with all those feelings and questions in your mind you decided to follow him deeper into the shadows.

it was difficult to put your plan into action, you started to understand why logan laughed when you said people called him “phantom”.

logan really had the gift of appearing and disappearing to his heart’s content as if he didn’t have a physical body.

but you knew better.

after failing multiple times to follow him you started to watch the man even more closely every time when you were together, and when you weren’t you wandered around the opera trying to understand the architecture and looking for secret passages and hiding places that would allow logan to pass unseen amongst opera workers and yourself.

to be honest you felt a little bit ridiculous doing this but you knew, even if it would sound ridiculous to someone else, it was the only possible explanation you had at the moment.

and it didn’t take long for you to find out what you were looking for.

and it took even less time for you to find yourself in the underground catacombs of the paris opera house.

“what am i doing? what am i doing? what am i doing?” you chanted to yourself while looking at the damp walls and flickering lights in what felt like a haunted place at the time, but then you started to actually think about what were you doing and who are you doing it for.

you were doing this for the man who found potential in your voice at a time you were unsure if you actually had any talent for singing.

you were doing this for the man that held you so delicately when you were crying your eyes out when you didn’t get the role of eurydice, a role where you practiced so hard with him and you felt you were letting him down because of your failure.

you were doing this for the man that, when you mentioned that to him, he held your face still wet from your tears and made you look into his eyes, instead of finding him looking at you with an angry expression and telling you he really was disappointed with you, questioning why he decided to be your mentor actually you were met with the kindest eyes you had ever seen in your life while logan whispered “you will never let me down”

you were doing this for the man that never let you touch his hands saying they had done more harm than good, that they are dangerous but you always notice the longing expression, showing a desire for you to ignore his words and look past his facade and love him besides his faults.

and you do.

you do love him besides his faults.

you are doing this for logan, the man that also loves you besides your own faults.

a lost soul, yearning, just like yours.

your thoughts were interrupted when you heard his voice.

“you shouldn’t have come, (y/n). these halls, this life… it’s not meant for you.”

ahead of you, logan’s form is barely visible, his black clothes blending with the darkness.

the man speaks without turning, his voice both haunting and tender.

“but i must understand” your voice wavers, not from hesitation “you… you’re more than a phantom, more than the stories they tell, i’ve felt it since the first time you sang to me.”

you took a few more steps closer.

“you say this is not my world, but i feel like i belong here with you, in the music, in the dark”

“what about your dream?” logan finally turned to face you, even in the badly lit room you were in, the pain in his eyes was unmistakable “your dream to be a lead soprano? your dream to make the world know your voice?”

you giggled.

“i can still do all those things, i never said i wanted to be famous,” you confessed “i want to be a legend, the lead soprano who made people reach nirvana once in their life to never be seen again.”

logan looked puzzled, he couldn’t understand how someone like you would prefer a life in darkness with him instead of the glory of being in the spotlight where you could have everything you wanted.

“you don’t know what you are saying” logan’s voice trembles as he gestures around him, to the cavernous, endless maze of catacombs “this is not beauty, it is madness, a prison. my past, what i truly am… are not things you would wish to see.

you stepped closer to him, your hand outstretched but not quite touching the man in front of you.

“then show me. show me your past. show me your pain” your breath catches in your throat as you speak “i want to know, logan. i want to see what makes you… you.”

logan inhales sharply at hearing his name on your lips, as if you had unraveled a sacred secret. he looks away, conflicted, his shoulders tense. but you move even closer, your fingers brushing the edge of his suit.

“if you follow me any further, (y/n), there will be no turning back." logan's voice softens, filled with sorrow. "my world, my heart - it will consume you."

he looks into your eyes, pleading with you to turn away, pleading with you to think again and leave him in the darkness and live a better life.

but seeing the determination in your face, he sighs defeated.

"very well... follow me"

logan continues deeper into the labyrinth, and you, unwavering follows. the air grows colder, the walls narrower making you feel as if the weight of the earth is pressing down on you, it didn't take long for you both to reach a hidden chamber. inside, candlelight flickers over rows of old mirrors, sheets of music, and a grand organ, half-covered in dust. the remnants of a tortures life, a man that forgot the world above.

your breath catches as you step into the room, your eyes scanning the relics of his past.

"this..." your voice is soft, filled with wonder and sadness. "this is where you've been all these years?"

you turn around to face him, logan watches you as if waiting for you to recoil in horror, but when you don't, when instead you step closer and places your hand gently on his, something breaks inside of him.

"this is all i am" logan's voice, rough but tender, breaks the silence "a creature of the dark, of pain. nothing more."

your eyes fill with tears, but still you don't look away.

"no. you are more than that. you are music, you are passion, you are love. logan, i see you and i love what i see."

gently you took his hands and place in on your cheeks, logan's eyes are filled with disbelief and emotion, met your.

"you don't know what i have done, you don't know what these hands are capable of"

"then show me and let me love you anyway"

in that moment, something shifts. the darkness no longer feels suffocating but intimate, a shared space where two souls, both broken in their own way, find solace in each other.

[reiwanwan]

Desperate Aria

Alfie Solomons hires you, an Opera singer to sing for him alone but obviously trouble seems to find him wherever he goes.

content includes: Mentions of guns, violence, blood and death

You stand on the grand stage of the dimly lit theatre, singing your heart out for an audience of one—Alfie Solomons. His eyes are focused on you with an intensity that’s almost unnerving, but you’ve been told what was coming. You know what was expected of you, even if it felt like a weight in your chest. The theatre is empty except for Alfie, his solitary figure sitting in the center row with his unyielding gaze, his expression composed.

He had briefed you beforehand, talking about the opera piece you were to sing. He explained it with a surprising passion, his gruff voice softening when he spoke of how the music stirred something in him. “Opera…yeah,” he had said, “…is about life and death, love and loss… it’s the perfect backdrop for what’s about to happen” You didn’t even hear what he said in the first part. Even if what he said didn’t make much sense at all, it didn’t matter to you anymore—you needed the money.

When the doors behind the theatre open and the men walked in, Alfie doesn’t react. He remains seated, a calmness in his posture as if he’d been expecting them all along. He starts speaking to them, discussing about opera and the significance of the piece you’re performing, as if he’s giving a lecture to an audience rather than confronting his would-be assassins, something about “I always thought opera was just a bunch of fat people yelling”. You can’t hear all of his words, but the tone is almost casual, like he’s sharing a bit of his world with them.

Then, Alfie’s voice cuts through the air sharply directing you. “Turn around love. Don’t look back.” His tone is firm but gentle. “You’re young, eh? Don’t need to see what’s about to happen.”

You obey, your back facing away from the non-existent audience now. The words of the opera flow out of you, trembling at first, but then stronger, rising to fill the empty theatre. The tension is palpable, and you can hear the rustling behind you, and the clicking of metal. Your eyes squeeze shut as the first gunshot rings out, the sharp sound cutting through the notes.

You continue to sing, your voice faltering just slightly. The song builds to its crescendo, each note a cry from your chest. When the piece ends, the silence in the room is heavy, suffocating. You don’t look back as you walk offstage, heading behind the curtain as Alfie had told you to do.

When you find Ollie waiting there, you see the envelope of money in his hand, ready for you. You feel your knees buckle and you clutch at your chest, the realization crashing over you. “Is he…?” you start, your voice breaking, unable to finish the question without your eyes starting to tear up from genuine concern.

Ollie wraps an arm around your shoulders, his voice low and soothing. “It’s alright,” he says, “just take the money. It’s done.”

Suddenly you hear footsteps approaching, and your breath catches in your throat. Then none other than Alfie Solomons emerges from behind the stage, blood streaked across his face and staining his coat, he truly looked like a painting at that moment. His eyes though are still the same—sharp and alive. He gives you a small nod as if to say, “See? Still here.”

It’s only then that you realize what had happened. Alfie had fired first, the instant before they could aim at him. He stands there, a little breathless but victorious nonetheless of course.

Alfie looks at you, his bloody hands resting on his hips. “Told you, didn’t I? Finish your song, get your money, and don’t look back. And you did, didn’t you? yeah you did, Good girl” he says, his voice steady as if he hadn’t just been staring death in the face. “Now go on and get yourself something nice. You’ve earned it.”

You nod shakily taking the envelope from Ollie’s hand. As you walk away, you can’t help but glance back at Alfie who watches you leave, his expression as unreadable as ever. He wipes his brow still catching his breath and you realize how close it had been as he looked down at the bodies, sighed, and then walked away. The strains of the opera still haunting your thoughts.

[lilylovestowrite]

Could I request Neuvillette getting a big surprise from his partner and the Melusines? The surprise? They wrote a song about him and decided to sing it to him.

Neuvillette gets so touched it almost rains

HYDRO DRAGON, HYDRO DRAGON, HAPPY BIRTHDAY ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ Neuvillette x Gn! Reader

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ Slight angst

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ You give Neuvillette a little surprise

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 700

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you for the request! I CAN’T STOP WRITING ANGST I CAN’T HELP IT -

Divider by @/cafekitsune

Sigewinne plops herself on a chair, spreading refreshment drinks all around the table of yours and Neuvillette’s shared garden. Under the lovely gazebo, many of the melusines gather, pretty eyes all wide with excitement. As a musician, you pride yourself on leading the top opera performances in Fontaine, and as easily as you could ask some of the best singers to perform for your husband, you decide to take the melusines who volunteered to perform under your wing and teach them to perform some of Neuvillette’s favourite songs for his birthday. 

To be honest, you’re not sure why anyone hasn’t thought of hiring them to sing before. As water creatures, their voices range around a high-soprano key, the cadence of their voices lovely and controlled like the rolling tides of the summer seas. Sigewinne herself has such an adorable singing voice, you have to stop fawning over her as if she were an infant, and focus on the rest of the choir. Around fifteen melusines eagerly agreed to volunteer, and they organise themselves in rows, dressed in lovely organza silks with light blue flowers clasped in their tiny hands. 

“I can’t believe I’ve heard this non-stop in Monsieur Neuvillette’s office, and now I’m here singing it.” One of them shakes her head, and the lovely soprano melusine lightly whacks her upside the head. 

“You volunteered, dummy.” 

“I know, but I can’t bear hearing it again. I’m investing in earplugs.” She snaps, and you and a few other melusines giggle in reply. 

“Alright, ladies! Let’s go over the plan again: Neuvillette is arriving any moment now, and we’ll start after I tap the baton on the music stand. Lady Furina, thank you for playing the piano.” You nod at her in acknowledgement. 

“Enough with the theatrics, darling. You’ve worked with me for years. I would do it for Neuvillette anytime.” She waves her gloved hand dismissively, short bobbed hair dancing as she shakes her head dramatically. “Now hush, he’ll be here at any second.” 

Sure enough, the clack of heels is heard, the sound of keys jingling rings out and everyone quickly stands up straighter. One of the melusines nearly whacks her elbow into the table next to her and covers her mouth to block her pained yelp. The melusine next to her covers her mouth too, to conceal her laughter. The silence permeates for about all of thirty seconds, in which Neuvillette finally looks outside the window of the dining room to see the gazebo decorated in blue ribbon, fifteen melusines, Lady Furina, and the love of his life standing there in the garden. He smiles softly, shedding his coat and making his way to the garden. Just as he opens the gate, you tap your baton three times, and the melusines’ melody begins to soar in tandem with Furina’s lovely piano accompaniment. 

Neuvillette stands, stunned. In all of his years, he has isolated himself from the society of Fontaine to hide his true identity, to mourn the loss of those who have departed before him and those to come, the weight of their sins shattering his back from punishment he wasn't sure were entirely fair. But now, with the death of Focalors, it’s been the first time since he’s let loose and allowed himself to really indulge in society’s little rituals. Like birthdays, although unfamiliar with them, he finds it so… bizarre. The melusine’s singing is beautiful, and though he can’t see them properly because of a weird haze that possesses his purple eyes. It’s so peculiar, celebrating a birth he can’t quite remember. His existence, quiet yet loud and theatrical in the Court of Law, is it really so important to you that you wish to celebrate it with so many other people?

For some strange reason, a few drops of rain wet the stepping stone in front of him. It isn’t until the song ends with a crescendo that Furina shrieks and tries to pull fabric over her piano that Neuvillette takes notice of the tears burning the corner of his eyes. You walk up to him and embrace him, his hand rakes through your hair. You wipe away a stray tear from his cheek, flushed and unaged from years of loneliness, but the childlike glimmer in his eyes he had thought would never return ignites in his sea of lavender once more. 

“Don’t cry, Neuvi. Happy birthday.”

[germangholami]

Book Now Opera Singer Near Me

German Gholami stands out as the premier choice for any opera singing party, captivating audiences with his exceptional vocal prowess. Renowned for his versatile voice, German Gholami effortlessly navigates the intricate melodies of opera, delivering performances that leave a lasting impression.

Book Now: https://www.tenorforhire.com/opera.php#prettyPhoto

[shiny-jr]

I know you probably don't want to talk about this anymore, but I'm still really curious. Genshin Natlan characters have been revealed, and I want to know your opinion

Taking a long sigh. The fact that you seem hesitant to ask this means you probably have an idea of what my response would be like. Just so I don't have to end up making multiple posts about this topic, I'm gonna try to include everything here. If I forget something and someone asks later, I might be willing to address it.

So, heads up. This is a long rant. Shiny rants. Disclaimer, I am Mexican-American, so I believe I have some say on some of the cultures involved in this fiasco. Some of them, not all. That being said, I'll try to handle the others with as much respect as possible, but forgive me if I make a mistake somewhere.

I stopped playing genshin when Sumeru was announced. Despite me not having any affiliation with the cultures represented by Sumeru, I remember being livid as some of y'all might recall. So, let's start off with:

THE AMALGAMATION OF CULTURES. This meaning how very weird it is that somehow the european/east asian cultures get their own distinct nation dedicated to one sole peoples while brown/black cultures get meshed into one unrecognizable figure. Mondstadt is based off Germany, Liyue is based off China, Inazuma is based off Japan, Fontaine is based off France. On the other hand, Sumeru is a mix of south asia, the middle east, and north africa while Natlan takes that a step further by involving Incan, Mayan, Maori, Yoruban, and Hopi cultures (of what we know so far).

Why are all these other nations so carefully crafted and picked, but it feels as if for Natlan and Sumeru, the developers put up a map and grabbed some darts, then decided to use whatever culture wherever a handful of darts landed on the board? In the way they're handling it, it feels like these cultures are nothing but an accessory to them. An excuse to make these "exotic" looking characters, but not even make them properly due to the horrible designs and lack of melanin (these are two topics I will come back to).

It feels like they got lazy, and/or they clearly don't care enough to do in depth research properly as they might've done with past nations. The best example I've seen of this is Yunjin and Ororon. Yunjin is a beautiful example of a character done right and respectfully, as she is meant to be a Chinese opera singer. They even went so far as to hire an actual Chinese opera singer for a song she performs in-game. However, Ororon takes the name of "Olorun" which is a Yoruban deity, but when you look at this character's design, there is nothing that would even hint towards the fact that he's meant to be African.

This brings me to the second part, CULTURE AS COSTUMES. As mentioned previously, nothing about this Ororon character portrays the fact that he's meant to be African. NOTHING. If you do not know what he looks like, the character named after a Yoruban god is quite literally just a pale anime boy in edgy clothing and has some type of dog/cat/animal ears. I am not joking. That is what he looks like. If you don't believe me, look it up.

Do you know what the saddest part about all this is? It's the fact that I guarantee you, sometime in the future when Ororon appears in-game, gets his own quest, then his own banner, all that jazz, the chances of images of him appearing when you look up Olorun are high. In fact, when Sumeru was announced, I vividly remember doing research on the characters there were announced, such as Al-Haitham. When you looked up the name Al-Haitham then, google showed an Islamic astronomer. However, if you look up the name now, you immediately get builds and character guides and art of genshin's Al-Haitham, which is horrible when you really think about it. Because the same thing happened to Dehya (a Berber warrior queen), and it's about to happen to Kachina (Hopi spirits), Kinich (Mayan Sun God), Mualani (a princess of Hawaii), etc.

When you look at these characters, Natlan and Sumeru included, most of their designs don't even look as if they're portraying a culture. For now, I'll focus on Natlan.

Kinich is supposed to be Mayan, however, nothing about his design is giving Latino or indigenous Mayan. As a Mexican, I should be able to look at him and say, 'hey, he looks kinda like me or my cousins! Oh, I recognize those patterns, or that type of footwear/shirt/pants/headwear.' SOMETHING to that degree, but if you had shown me him and I didn't know, I would have never guessed.

Another infuriating design is Murata, the pyro archon. Tell me why does she look like a futuristic biker girl instead of a Maori/Polynesian warrior? The level of disrespect, ESPECIALLY because according to what I've gathered, her name is based off an actual entity/deity.

Time to point out the obvious, and I'm gonna say it but WHY ARE THEY WHITE? Yes, I know the argument about how not everyone from latino/arab cultures is brown, I know. But not everyone is white either, so please, get over it. If the entirety of Fontaine can be white because they're French, by that same logic, wouldn't it makes sense to make the entirety of Natlan brown/black because they're indigenous/african?

It lies well within hoyo's abilities to include colored characters. They have millions of dollars and they say they want a global audience, they just don't do it because there is major colorism there. Saying "but they're a Chinese company!" is no excuse either, because then that would be automatically classifying them as ignorant of anything outside of China when they clearly are not if they utilize strong elements of hip-hop and jazz (both with origins in African American communities) in their other games, want to pick these cultures like accessories on a shelf, and make brown/black npc enemies with locs and other poc features. I won't immediately jump to blaming the designers either, because it's probably that they have tried presenting ideas that do actually cater to the wider audience and poc people, but they were most likely turned down by higher-ups.

Anyways, I've been typing this for a while now and my mind is blanking. I'm sure I had more to say but I currently cannot remember it. I'm glad people are FINALLY speaking out against this, it's about time and actually late because the outrage around this should've happened back in Sumeru but better late than never.

If you don't agree with me or my takes on this, don't even bother trying to look for a response because I'm not gonna argue about this. That's about it for now though.

[fancyfeathers]

William’s and Sherlock’s darlings

The Games We Play of Dust and Ash (Yandere Moriarty the Patriot Masterlist)

(A/N- this one was painful to write, I cried while writing this)

Spoilers for the Moriarty the Patriot timeskip

When Sherlock and William disappear, their darlings are left alone, because Mycroft’s darling is married off to him and she was the reporter’s best friend, and Albert is arrested and his darling has left to go see the world with her dead parent’s fortune, meanwhile Louis’ darling is still stuck with him as his life changes, which leaves William’s darling alone again…

William told her that he would never abandon her…

And now he was gone…

He kidnapped her, manipulated her, gaslit her, but he cared for her, she thinks.

Honestly she doesn’t know what to think as she now stands in an empty house, all alone, abandoned like she had been all her life. But then there is a knock at the front door and her steps echo through the empty halls as she goes to get it, and all she feels is emptiness from this empty nest. She opens the door to see an all too familiar face and a welcome one at that, the reporter, Sherlock’s darling. Both of them look at the other and they just look like they have seen hell. William’s darling has always seen this woman as a strong and independent woman but…

“…Miss Hudson said that Sherlock left me some stuff in case he… I…I can’t do this alone.”

“…Neither can I.”

Now it feels like William’s darling is looking at a mirror when looking at her friend. The two go to Baker Street together to pick of the box of the things Sherlock left his darling, it’s mostly letters he wrote to her but never sent, all the things he couldn’t make himself say, a few of her newspapers articles, some money, and a ring. The two go back to the old Moriarty estate together and just sit down together in silence which is broken by Sherlock’s darling…

“I don’t have a job anymore since I worked for Milverton’s paper and I doubt any news companies here would want to hire me since my main source is dead, I have some family in the states I was going to stay with until I am ready to start writing again-“

“Can I please come with you?”

A smile comes across the reporter’s face at her question.

“I was hoping you would.”

The two say goodbyes to whoever they can and have left and a week later they are on a boat across the ocean. It is on the voyage over when Sherlock’s darling is walking through the halls of the ship when she hears music, she follows it to one of the ship’s lounges to see William’s darling playing and singing. Her friend sits down on the bench next to her and listens…

“Where did you learn?”

“Albert’s wife taught me how to play and then at the opera house I used to listen in on the singers’ vocal lessons.”

“Well you certainly have a gift, good enough to play at the St. Regis in New York.”

“Thank you… I read some of your articles as well, you also have quite the hand.”

“Thank you.”

Starting a new life can be scary but at least they have each other.

Life in New York is not so bad, the two women stay with the grandparents of Sherlock’s darling in their home in upper Manhattan, a kind retired couple who takes care of the two women after such a terrifying and life changing incident. Her grandfather clears out his old and unused study for his grandchild to use so she can begin writing her new column. And then her grandmother begins to teach William’s darling about the types of music here in New York that is far different than the music she heard be played at the opera house, the two play piano that can be heard from where her grandfather works in his garden and down the hall where the reporter clicks away at her typewriter.

Soon two years had passed, the two managed to get their own apartment in lower manhattan, Sherlock’s darling had been taking small writing jobs here and there but had recently secured a job as a journalist for the New York Times, a crime journalist like she was before. Meanwhile William’s darling after years of hiding herself away and now works as a singer at a high end hotel like the reporter told her to do. The two had found themselves grow into a routine, make and have breakfast together, William’s darling will clean up the apartment and work and write some of her music while Sherlock’s darling heads out to work, then the reporter will come back in the afternoon for a late lunch, then William’s darling will leave to the hotel while the reporter finishes her work at home for the day, and then she will join her friend at the hotel after her performance and the two will have dinner there due to her friend’s role as staff at the hotel. Life was peaceful and now neither of them were alone, they had each other.

Some days were harder than others, one of them knowing they left people behind in London, the darlings of Louis and Mycroft, not telling Albert’s darling where they were so she would not feel the need to find them ever since they would take care of themselves. Sometimes the two would sit on top of the roof of their apartment building after hanging up the laundry and just wonder if they made the right choice and if they miss the mastermind and detective, William’s darling is far more prone to this and will just take her notebook up and write, doesn’t matter what, music, poetry, letters to him for her to keep, just something to get it all off her chest.

Meanwhile working for the Pinkerton agency in Brooklyn, Sherlock gets a job, there is going to be a large transaction with one of the heads of the biggest crime family in New York at a high end hotel in Manhattan, so he brings along William since has more insight how unground organizations function. They deal with the threat at the hotel silently as the owner requested as to not scare the guests and staff…

Meanwhile William’s darling and Sherlock’s darling are having a glass of wine in one of the empty event rooms at the hotel after her shift, sitting on the piano bench of the grand piano in the mostly empty room. Sherlock’s darling mentions that she left her journal open on the couch at home and told her she read one of the songs and asks her.

“Do you miss William?”

“…sometimes… I-I know he was a devil on earth… but I can’t help but think that even devils were once angels- sorry I probably sound crazy-“

“I would never tell you that you are crazy… would you mind playing one of your songs for me?”

“Sure but only if you sing with me, and don’t say you don’t know the lyrics when you snooped.”

Sherlock and William are walking down a hall in the hotel, about to leave when they both hear a piano playing from one of the rooms ahead. They shrug it off as some staff or a guest playing for fun, then William hears a voice, her voice…

“Balancing the scales

All my job entails

Making sure that they're prepared to see the world.”

He thinks he is just hearing something for a second and tries to tell himself it is nothing, but her voice… it has to be…

Sherlock definitely picks up on this and silently nods and William approaches the closed door where he hears the music and the voice…

“And all I feel is emptiness

From this emptying nest

William are you there

I was unaware

How difficult it'd be without you there

I was unprepared”

It is her, it has to be.

Then there is another voice joining in…

“Balancing the scales, balancing the scales

I did the best I could but still I have failed

Still I have failed

Balancing the scales

Want them to see the world but I'll always care”

Now William looks at the detective so see the same expression William wore on his own face.

As the piano fades away the door handle turns and the ladies turn their heads expecting it to be another of the hotel staff but instead…

William expected something when his darling saw him after years of thinking he was dead, but not the look of fear in her eyes after saying his name so sweetly in a song. She looks terrified, like she just saw a ghost and in some ways she did.

Sherlock on the other hand expected his darling’s reaction, like the look of pure rage in her eyes when she saw him alive. Their last few meeting before he disappeared were not on the greatest term as their friendship had a falling out due to Sherlock’s feels towards her and his overprotectiveness. Then not to mention by killing Milverton, she lost her job in London

In a blink of an eye and without a second thought, Sherlock’s darling grabbed her friend’s wrist and walked right out of the other doors to the room into another hallway.

It takes a second for William to process that he is crying. He abandoned her when he told her that he would never do such a thing. God what had he done?

The next day, neither woman goes to work, not even bothering to notify anyone that they would not be showing up today, they would find an excuse later. William’s darling sits on the rooftop, looking over the city as Sherlock’s darling hangs their laundry up on the line…

“Do you think you’ll go back to him now that you have the option?”

The question from her friend catches William’s darling off guard…

“I… I don’t know…”

“You do not have to, dear.”

That voice catches both women off guard, and they both look behind them at the rooftop entrance to see William standing there with his darling’s journal in hand, she must have left it at the piano.

“I only came to return this… and tell you I am sorry for abandoning you, I hurt you and I can never repair your trust in me, but I will… I will always be here if you need me.”

He sets the journal down on the bench she is sitting down and before William can turn to leave, she grabs his sleeve and he looks down at her with confusion but before he can say anything else she leaps up and wraps her arms around him, tucking her chin over his shoulder as she always had done…

“I forgive you.”

Meanwhile Sherlock’s darling is overcome with emotions that she cannot place as she looks at the two. She squeezes her eyes shut and a hand comes to rest on her shoulder. She does not have to look up to know who it was.

“I do not forgive you.”

“I wasn’t asking you to and I wasn’t apologizing, love.”

[paimonial-rage]

tryst - furina

[random writing event] | requested by anon

Really, at over five hundred years old, it shouldn’t have excited her as much as it did. She used to be the god of Fontaine, after all. She did many crazy and fascinating things in her lifetime. Not to mention the sheer amount of plays and operas she’s been in. Being before a crowd nearly every moment in her life gave her confidence she could handle anything life threw at her. So how embarrassing it was to admit that out of everything she experienced, nothing could prepare her for this.

“It’s not much longer now,” you encouraged as you led her by hand up the path, intertwining your fingers with hers.

As you looked back at her with that frankly adorable grin, your eyes sparkled in the light of the full moon. It was late out, much later to what she was used to. And the way you kept your voice low only added to the excitement of the moment. It felt forbidden, taboo, like she would be reprimanded if anyone found out. She knew it was dumb, but nothing could stop her heart from beating out of her chest.

You didn’t know her. At least, you only met her a few days ago. She was a newcomer to Liyue and you were the kind soul that took it upon yourself to show her around the harbor. You had no reason to. You weren’t hired to do so. But upon hitting it off with her at an outdoor eatery, you invited her to walk around with you to enjoy the festival atmosphere. And now here you were a few days later leading her to, what you considered to be, the best place to watch the Lantern Rite.

And dare she say it again, you didn’t know her. All you knew her as was “Furina.” To you, she wasn’t the ex-Hydro Archon. She wasn’t the famed actress and opera singer. She simply was Furina. And how addicting it was. Gone was the need for propriety. Hesitation and reverence were no longer hers to bear. Your smiles and warmth belonged solely to her. To Furina, just Furina.

The moment you reached the top of the hill overlooking all of Liyue Harbor, off in the distance, the first lantern took to the sky. Then one more, and another. And then soon the whole sky was full.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered before she knew it.

You laughed gently and squeezed her hand.

“Would you like to light one too?” You asked, gesturing to the side with your free hand.

There was a Mingxiao Lantern, beautiful and ornate. But she hesitated.

“But… Is it okay? I… I’m not from Liyue…” she mumbled.

You smiled reassuringly.

“Of course. No matter where we’re from, we all have people we’d like to honor and remember, right?”

If only you know how much she did. A part of her wished to ask if she had that right. Was it okay for her to pray for all the people she lost? All the people she failed? But when you gazed at her with that softness in your eyes, she remembered once more who she was to you. Who you allowed her to be. Perhaps not as Focalors, but as Furina, she was allowed to grieve.

So with unsteady hands, she lit the lantern. And with your hands over hers, she let it float up into the sky. And as it drifted off farther and farther away, there she stood with you by her side.

[vintagetvstars]

Avery Brooks Vs. Michael O’Hare

Propaganda

Avery Brooks - (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Spenser: For Hire) - ben sisko absolute all time tv dilf and have you heard him SPEAK... the stage background absolutely shows and it truly makes him a standout in a legacy franchise *full* of incredibly talented people. also frankly top 3 all time sexy bald guy

Michael O’Hare - (Babylon 5) - This is the man responsible for making me A) Fall in love with men (respectfully) and B) was the first person to play a human in sci-fi that I actually liked!

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Avery Brooks:

Avery is a certified TV sci-fi hottie as Benjamin Sisko in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. The first black star trek Captain, he also negotiated his signature look - the bald head and goatee - against haters who thought a Captain should always be clean-shaven. Thank God for that, because he looks devastatingly hot in a a goatee (a phrase never before uttered). He went on to direct several episodes of DS9, use his pleasant voice to record music and multiple host documentaries, and mostly retire from acting to teach as a professor.

TW: Flashing

with that wonderful stentorian baritone voice he could move from intimidating commander to gentle and compassionate space dad...benjamin sisko is a man of many qualities, thoughtful, morally complex, understatedly hilarious, a lil unhinged, really really excited about baseball, and avery brooks never fails to breathe life, depth and dimension into the character and also did i mention his voice. fun fact he was a professor of theater arts at rutgers while filming deep space nine and would occasionally teach classes via vhs tapes recorded on set, complete with starfleet uniform. he also directed a number of ds9 episodes including notable ones like "rejoined" and "far beyond the stars", and performed many of his own stunts as sisko. stunt coordinator dennis madalone said, "of all the stars that I've worked with on all the Star Treks, and all the other shows that I've been on other than Star Trek, I've never seen an actor so physically capable of just doing everything...every time I'd bring in a stunt double, he'd be angry, sitting on a bench, because Avery was doing so great." he's also a distinguished stage actor and an accomplished musician and singer who's performed everything from jazz to opera. science has yet to discover whether there's anything this man can't do.

Michael O’Hare:

[obscure-imaginations]

GHOST headcanons based upon the movie! Spoilers under the cut.

Notes: I am not interested in “unmasked ghouls” so keep that out of here. I am also not comfortable with xtians and/or c*tholics interacting with ANY of my posts. I can't stop you from enjoying GHOST, but GHOST is a sacred thing to me and my spiritual practice, and for my own personal mental health, go away, please. (Very upset about the asshole who wore a cross shirt to the concert and ended up in a few shots. Disrespectfully, fuck you)

-Not a headcanon but since the “new guy” already has a mitre? I’m praying to hells below that it’s Papa III.

-The reason Aether was replaced by Phantom was because Aether broke a leg doing a stunt. He couldn't heal in time, and since he’s already an older ghoul, he decided to just retire. Dewdrop is still adjusting to the change, choosing to engage more with Rain than Phantom.

-Sunshine is half air, half fire. She plays air instruments but you can see her fire heritage ignite when the pyrotechnics go off!

-Only certain clergy members are “permitted” to see spirits. Both for the protection of the general populace and for further protection on any important magics. This generally creates the “talking to yourself” illusion amongst the high ministry.

-Adding onto that for the canon, that’s why no one sees the spirits of Papas I-III. Sister Imperator couldn’t have them going around speaking against her!

-But that spell is breaking now that Sister Imperator is down…

-”Frate Imperator” just means “Brother Imperator” in Latin. Sister gave/attempted to give Copia a demotion, as Imperators are only advisors to the Papal line.

-The dancers are all Siblings of Sin! Usually it’s just Papa and Ghouls plus a couple tech people that get to go out touring- they hire a lot of “regular” people to help, like the humans for dress and stage, to keep up appearances. They don't need crowds swarming where the ministry is, after all.

-The orchestra ghoulettes are air and quintessence ghouls. Air for the string instruments and piano, but you could also feel the power they hold. Especially the opera singer. Quintessence ghouls have dominion over spiritual magics, and they definitely used that to their advantage to create a stellar performance.

Now for the angst.

-Even though Copia is very upset with both Imperator and Nihil lying to him for all these years, as you saw, it’s hard for him to stand up to them. He’s always had that problem and it still persists in (un)death.

-The twins are humanoid demonic familiars to Nihil. When he died, they died too.

-Due to Nihil’s neglect and generally shitty Papahood, his band ghouls did not like him. Thus they didn't give a fuck when Nihil and Imperator had their little fight. They took the opportunity to snag Nihil’s cash and had a tour of the city.

-Even though Imperator was the one in dire need of medical attention, I appreciate that the ghouls ran to help Copia first. They all knew she was bad for the clergy- killing the past 3 papas will never be forgotten, no matter who’s in charge. It was only when Copia waved them away did the ghouls go to look at Imperator.

Sorry for any Imperator and Nihil fans but I just cannot stand them 😅

-As seems to be the horrible, horrible canon judging by the one little scene… Nihil has a foot fetish. 🥲