#raouly

[vonlipvig]

just watched the lindsay ellis love never dies video and ??????? what kinda insane bad fanfiction was THAT????

[officialbruciewayne]

Bruce waited out the inevitable little puff of alarm, watching the kitten move through the stages of shock, betrayal, mlem, oh and finally- uncontrollable, insatiable hunger for treats. A small smile curled in the corner of his mouth as he allowed the kitten to bite tiny needlepoint holes into the tube. Slowly squeezing the creamy treat and genuinely regretful as the tube was drained of tasty.

By this point, the little kitten had a mess all over his little face. That was fine. He'd lick that off himself quickly enough. For now, he just looked a bit silly.

Bruce mewed once, before murmuring, "sorry little one. All done."

His new mother brought him to such a strange place. Weird smooth floors that reflect like the puddles used to. Fires contained by brick instead of the metal cans. Dogs that don’t chase. People that don’t kick.

So new…so big…

very very big…

[tophatsnap]

Nothing But a Man Ch 6

Hi guys! Sorry that these updates have been so sporadic. I have a heap written. Let me know if you guys are keen and I’ll keep posting :)

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Webber.

Erik

I looked down at her in complete and utter fascination. How could this woman, this perfectly sublime and innocent creature be so forgiving of me, so understanding of my faults that she could actually bring herself to embrace me after all she had heard? I could not figure it out. Her words had completely disarmed me. All the hate and bitterness I had felt had simply melted away as she held me and uttered those incredible words...

'I need you...'

I had not hoped for pity or any sort of acceptance upon telling her those things; I just felt as if I owed it to her to speak the truth... or at least some of it. I froze as she willingly embraced me... it had been the first I had ever received and it was everything I had imagined it would be and more. Soon, I returned it; relishing in her warmth and trust. I wanted to speak, I wanted to tell her how much I felt... I wanted to thank her for what she was doing but all I could utter was her name. It was too much for me but I never wanted it to end.

"Erik." She said; my name, my loathsome name uttered from her perfect lips.

"Don't leave." She said.

That was all I needed to hear. If she wanted me there... that was where I would be. I would do anything for her. Anything she asked of me.

"No..." I said, my voice wavering more than I would have liked. No, I would not leave...

She smiled and held me again, head resting against my chest, arms around my waist. It felt so wondrous that I wondered how I had gone so long without this feeling... without her...

"This was my final performance for the week... so, you can stay late if you'd like..." Oh, how I would love to. I would stay forever...

Tomorrow.

I had heard of her plans with le Vicomte...

I had to mention it. I was being honest now and I had to get into the habit of it...

"Christine... tomorrow... in lieu of our conversation and... being honest." She looked up at me, almost afraid of what I would say. "You know that I heard your conversation with... the boy..."

"'...The boy?'" She laughed. "Yes... my conversation with Raoul..."

"Yes... well I know of your plans with him tomorrow. I won't pretend that I'm ignorant to his intentions... I just wanted to make it clear that I knew."

"Just as friends, I assure you... you don't need to worry."

But I could not help but worry...

"I appreciate you trusting me; letting me see him. I know that you used to be quite strict with what I did..." I smiled politely. Of course I trusted her. It was him I did not trust, and I was not comfortable with any of it.

"Will you stay though?" She asked.

"Yes... Of course I will stay." I said, almost admonishing her for asking such a trivial question.

"Alright, let's sit down." She said, taking my hand and leading me to the divan I had previously sat down on. I removed my jacket for fear of creasing it and sat back next to Christine...

Christine...

Never had I thought that such a thing would be possible. Perhaps it wasn't, perhaps it would end just as quickly. Regardless I would make the most of the time with her that I was permitted. I was reminded of Madame Giry, and her concerns.

"There is... something you should know as well."Again, she looked at me in fear of what I was about to tell her.

"It's nothing bad, I assure you. Well... it can prove inconvenient for me but, nothing to fear. Madame Giry and I are... acquainted."

"Really?!" She asked, utterly bewildered by the fact.

"Yes. I see no harm in telling you as long as you keep it to yourself. I'm sure that I can trust you as I have trusted her these many years."

"Yes, of course! Where did you two meet? How do you know each other?"

"A long story, I'm afraid. One for another time... I thought I should mention it because she paid me a visit earlier today."

"She did? So... she has been to your home?"

"Oh, yes. She quite rudely barged in while I was sleeping, come to that."

"Oh, she didn't." Christine said, covering her smile with her hands.

"Yes. I wasn't quite dressed either."

"Oh no!" She exclaimed, actually giggling.

"It isn't funny Christine." I warned, holding back a smile myself.

"It is... just a little bit." She laughed, now making no attempt at all at disguising her amusement.

"No!" I said, actually smiling. "It wasn't funny at all, quite embarrassing actually."

"Then why are you smiling?" She teased.

"I... alright, maybe it's a little funny... but I told you because... stop laughing at me!" Christine was visibly laughing now and I had to admit that it was infectious...

"I'm... sorry." She laughed.

"I... No, you aren't." I said, refraining from actual laughter myself. "I didn't mention this for you to make fun of me! She came to see me because she was worried about you."

"Worried?" Christine asked, wiping her eyes.

"Yes. She wanted to know of my intentions."

"Well... she has always been like a mother to me. I still cannot believe that the two of you know each other."

"Yes." I smiled, my eyes distant. She had also spoken of her worry for me but I decided not to mention it. She could see that I was spending more and more time with Christine and her worries were probably warranted. The more time I spent with her, the more I lost myself in the utopia; the perfect world in which I did not belong. With each passing minute I fell more deeply in love with her and with each passing minute I worried that it was too good to be true; that it would be taken away from me. I was well aware that If Christine changed her mind now, I would be utterly broken. And yet... I could not stop myself from giving her everything I had...

She took my hand in hers and began to remove my glove.

"Erik?" She asked as the glove came off.

"...Yes Christine?" My reply was almost automated as I watched her deft hands strip me of yet another one of my defenses.

"Will you take me down to your home on our next meeting?" I watched her remove my other glove and proceed to hold one of my hands in her own. I had already expressed my feelings regarding my home but I found that I could not deny her wish... She was now lightly tracing my fingers with her own and what little resolve I had was lost in her caresses.

"Y...Yes." I replied, still watching her hands. I don't think that she knew what power she possessed or that she was intentionally using it against me. Either way, I could not deny her. I could not even speak. Suddenly I realized that my home would be the perfect opportunity... I could at least cook for her as if it were an actual date...

"Does that feel nice?" she asked, watching my face.

"Yes..." I repeated. Seemingly it was all that was left of my expansive vocabulary. Nice was an understatement... and these were just my hands! She smiled, apparently quite pleased with herself and then suddenly, much to my disappointment, she stopped.

"Can we... Do you mind if we..." I looked at her.

"What is it?"

"I was wondering if you would mind... if we lay down." She asked.

"You... lie down...?" I thought about it for a second. I could not possibly lie down next to her, it was highly improper... wasn't it? Of course, nothing at all would happen... was there anything really terrible about simply lying down next to someone? Of course, I wanted to. Just the image of my body next to hers was enough to make me agree without hesitation but I had to consider her...

"Do you not think it... improper?" I asked her seriously.

"No I... I don't think so. We would just be lying down. Is it improper?" I found humor in the fact that she was asking me about social normalcy. Me. I didn't know any more than she did.

"I don't know..." I answered truthfully.

"Perhaps we should just try it then." She reasoned. "If neither of us is sure... then it isn't really wrong, is it?"

No... Potentially, it wasn't.

Christine lay down on the inside of the divan and I, next to her on my back. This was arguably the most awkward I had ever felt but I didn't want to be anywhere else. As soon as I lay down she draped her arm across my chest and pulled me closer. I had no idea what to do... never before had I been in a situation such as this. I lay next to her awkwardly until she instructed me as to what to do.

"Put your arm around me." She said, gently lifting my arm. Immediately, I obeyed.

"Sorry..." I said. Surely it was not for the woman to have to direct the man in what he was doing. It must have been tedious for her and I felt a complete oaf.

"Don't be sorry." She said quietly, snuggling closer to me.

"What are you doing?" I asked. Surely this was wrong... it felt too good to be right; to be... allowed.

"I'm getting comfortable." She replied innocently. "Just relax."

Relax. How could I relax? This had to be perfect; every action of mine had to be delivered with precision... I didn't want her to think me a fool. I had always been so capable. What had happened?

But I was able to relax. After a few moments of lying next to her it felt as if I had never been anywhere else, never belonged anywhere else.

"Are... are you free tomorrow night..." I began, surprised by my own courage. "...after you see the boy?" Why could I not ask to see her? She wanted to be with me... surely what she was doing was evidence of that.

"Yes." She said sleepily, pulling me closer. I smiled.

"Take me to your home." She said, she was falling asleep, she really was. What was I to do? Surely, I couldn't leave. I certainly couldn't stay where I was and fall asleep... what if someone found us? Worse, what if Madame Giry found us? Regardless, I wasn't in the least bit tired. No, I would simply have to wait until she was fast asleep and leave. It seemed a horrible thing to do...

"Christine..." I whispered.

"Mmm." She mumbled against my neck. Oh, how wonderful it felt.

"I should go..."

"No..." She said, pulling me close once more. "Stay until I'm asleep..."

I sighed. If I stayed, would I have the power to leave? But again... how could I deny her when she was so deliciously pressed up against me?

"Christine...?" I whispered. No response. Time to leave... How could I? She was so inviting, so soft... her face was almost buried in my neck, her warm breath tickling the soft skin there; unbearable but ambrosial. I was reluctant to leave but I could stay no longer, she was undoubtedly asleep. I slipped my arm out from under her, now fraught with pins and needles and gently stood up. She was beautiful... so beautiful.

Collecting my things, I checked my pocket watch; it was quite late, late for those who slept at night anyway. I decided that it would be quite a nice time for a stroll up to the roof. I did a lot of my soul searching up there; a lot of my big thinking... but I had never been up there in such a state of mind... I couldn't go back down to my home; not down there... that darkness. Not just yet. Not while I felt so alive.

Instead of exiting through the mirror, I left through the dressing room door; just as a normal suitor would have...

Normal.

I smiled to myself and closed the door behind me. I put on my jacket and cape as I walked confidently through the halls. I knew that no one would be awake at his hour and even if they were, no one knew the twists and turns of this building better than I. Slowly, I made my way up to the roof, stopping just above the auditorium. I walked above the stage as I had done many times before and found myself in the exact same position I had been when she had found me...

I smiled to myself, stroking the splintering wood of the rafters pensively, almost fondly. So much had changed. I moved my foot to adjust my stance when it was met with something on the ground; my lasso. I must have left it behind when I had let Buquet escape. I bent down to pick it up, and when I rose I was met with a voice.

"Ghost." It said. I turned around slowly.

Buquet.

"Is that a question or a statement?" I asked. I was somewhat surprised by his presence but not entirely. I had let him go after all and even then I had known it to be a faux pas... He had seen me. I should never have let him go. I could not help but toy with this man for he looked utterly ridiculous; pointing a knife at me as if he were the one in power. Even with the weapon in his hand, he looked utterly terrified.

"You shouldn't have let me go." He said, ignoring my rhetorical question.

"No, you're quite right." I said, walking towards him. He stepped back and raised his weapon. "I shouldn't have. I'm happy to remedy that though." I threatened.

"Not another step."

"Or what?" I asked. "I don't suppose a man like you could stop me." I had always loathed this man. He was filth; did not deserve life. I had seen him doing horrible things; looking in on the chorus girls changing, stealing... but worse, he had seen me. And I simply could not have that. How was it that someone such as him was permitted to live a normal life, a life above ground with all of the pleasures and rights of a normal man when I was reviled for the way that I looked? It was not fair... It was not just. It was time to even things out. I stepped towards him again with my lasso firmly in my grasp.

"Don't come any closer, Ghost." He said, waving the knife in front of me.

"Ghost." I repeated under my breath as I continued walking. He waved his knife again, lumbering forward and closely missing my arm. I looked at him and shook my head.

"I will kill you!" He jeered, his filthy brown hair falling in his face. "And when I do, I will find that Christine you love so much..."

Christine? The mention of her name distracted me momentarily and I lost focus. Buquet threw his knife in my direction but I managed to evade the brunt of it. I yelled as the blade sliced my side. Before I knew what I was doing, the rope was around his neck.

"You will not so much as LOOK at her!" I yelled as I pulled with all my strength.

After a few moments, he was still. It was done.

All of a sudden Christine's face came to mind; flooded my vision, my thoughts and every fiber of my being. Christine... How could I have forgotten? I had grown so accustomed to living my life without consequences, without having to trouble myself with the opinions of others that I had completely forgotten that I had something to lose. She would hate me for this. She would hate me. She would likely never speak to me again! What had I done?

I couldn't breathe... I stepped backward shakily, holding on to whatever I could in order to retain my balance. She would end it... This was the end. I had ruined everything. My heart was beating fast and I found that my cravat and collar were suddenly much too tight. I was suffocating. I had to get out... I needed air. I couldn't be in this prison a second longer. Hastily I made my way to the roof, holding my side and clawing at my throat in an attempt to let air in when, in reality I had more than enough.

I climbed the stairs, three at a time, stumbling here and there but never stopping. I had to get out. Finally I reached the rooftop, almost exploding through the door and falling to my knees in the snow. My head was spinning. My side was on fire but I did not care. It was not important. What was I going to do? I could not change anything... Perhaps she would not know? Perhaps I would not have to tell her that I was responsible...

What was I thinking? Of course I would have to tell her...

It was ruined and I had been the cause... I had known that it was too good to be true.

I held my head in my hands and wept. I wept unabashedly for what I had done and for what my actions would cause.

Christine... I'm so sorry...

So, it was destined to happen anyway... but what will change now that Christine and Erik have already formed a bond?

[embergeist]

I can see why that can be frustrating. That’s why I try and reflect on my own opinions as well as the opinions of others regarding this show and it’s cast as objectively as I can. Blind fanaticism is a bit of a weird idea to me, like when some of my older friends got really into Justin Bieber even after he like, spit on a fan or whatever. As a developing artist and storyteller I have to look at things with a critical eye.

this, folks, is one of the main reasons i don’t like the rah concert. the fans of the main trio are obnoxious and i’m over having the same discussions year after year. 

[jeffery64-love]

Food Trucks: From Fad to Fixture

America's most recent food rage truly isn't so new. Simply return to your youth summers when the main thing that could separate ball games or pool parties other than a mother's voice was the sweet alarm call of the frozen yogurt truck folding into your neighborhood taco food truck .

Take that picture - aside from supplant kids with business experts and change out the frozen yogurt man for a gourmet cook - and you have food trucks, going to a city close you...if they haven't showed up as of now.

Experiencing childhood in Morocco, Yassir Raouli probably never heard a frozen yogurt truck's tune. Yet, in the wake of attempting different endeavors in New York City - tending to tables, overseeing night clubs and opening a web based attire shop - Raouli concocted a thought, Bistro Truck, that could convey him to retirement.

"I did research, and I needed to begin a café. I generally needed to have my own place," he says. "What appeared well and good was the food truck."

On the off chance that you actually haven't got on, the food truck is actually what it says it is. A whole café, from the kitchen to the sales register, is independent in a truck or van. Food truck proprietors, who regularly serve as the culinary experts, drive their cafés to the individuals as opposed to letting the individuals come to them. From that point you begin to see contrasts.

There are food trucks that cook just to the lunch group, and others to just the supper surge; some do both. Various food trucks are itinerant, posting a week's-worth of areas on destinations, for example, Twitter and Facebook and making them dependent on their clients' Internet keen to direct them to their present areas. Others, similar to Raouli's activity, are stopped day by day at a similar spot in a similar neighborhood.

It's the accentuation put on the nature of food that characterizes the current flood of food trucks. Beside the admired frozen yogurt man, individuals have been eating road food in the United States for quite a long time - at wiener trucks in Chicago or rascal remains in Boston. However, throughout the most recent couple of years clients the nation over have had the joy of heap gastronomic alternatives. Los Angeles has a legitimate taco truck (Takosher). Kronic Krave Grill serves South American arepas four days every week in downtown Austin, Texas. What's more, of course, in Portland, Ore., proprietors pushed the quite sensitive cutoff with Kim Jong Grillin', a Korean BBQ food truck named after the dubious North Korean tyrant.

"I think we sort of changed it," Raouli says of Bistro Truck's menu, whose every day specials highlight things like chilled watermelon soup, kofta kebabs and strawberry panna cotta. "We were one of the first to offer gourmet food."

Regardless of whether Raouli led the gourmet food truck insurgency might be doubtful, yet the accomplishment of his Bistro Truck is unquestionably not. In late August 2010, on the one-year commemoration of its opening, Bistro Truck was named one of five finalists for New York City's yearly Vendy Awards, a food truck rivalry whose particular name misrepresents the serious earnestness of the occasion.

Bistro Truck's selection should give the business some genuinely necessary reputation that can counterbalance the hindrances confronting food trucks. For instance, at conventional cafés any accident can be alleviated by a pastry or mixed drink on the house. Food truck proprietors, in any case, are frequently restricted to an early introduction. Supporters get in line, request their food, make the installment, get their food and go. There's so brief period for connection with the clients that the merchant must nail the experience to guarantee rehash business and positive informal.

Then again, there is the benefit of closeness. "We cook everything before individuals, so we have a one-on-one collaboration with a client - better than what we would have at a café," Raouli says.

That is the specific explanation Fares "Freddy" Zeidaies - three-time Vendy finalist and the champ of the current year's Vendy Cup - got into the business. He has the experience of already possessing a physical eatery, one that produced strong business however left him unfulfilled.

"I concluded I would not like to do it any longer," Zeidaies says. "It was awful. It was not me. What I need is to be around the individuals, not simply around the kitchen."

So almost nine years prior Zeidaies rethought himself as "The King of Falafel and Shawarma." He began paying rent to a stopping meter as opposed to a proprietor. Zeidaies loyally stations his King of Falafel food truck at a similar crossing point in the Astoria people group of Queens, serving Middle Eastern cooking. Zeidaies is unquestionably more happy with his road activity. "I love it when they offer me that go-ahead," he says, however he additionally alerts conventional restaurateurs from gullibly getting into the food truck business.

Inquired as to whether customary eatery aptitudes mean food trucks, Zeidaies says not really. "I thought it was so comparable, yet not presently," he says. "I once had a decent full head of hair; I was solid. Presently I have an awful knee and I'm drained by the day's end. At a café, in the event that you would prefer not to go in, you have workers or an administrator who can dominate. You can call an office and they'll send you a sous gourmet expert. Yet, not at a road café."

Furthermore, the underlying test of finding a parking space in any case, food truck sellers must arrangement with the common components. "You need to get out in the blistering climate, the chilly climate," Zeidaies proceeds, which may clarify why food trucks are blasting in atmosphere well disposed spots like Southern California.

The components are just aspect of the troubles. Gay Hughes, proprietor of the Original Mobile Tea Truck, which advanced around suburbia of Boston for quite a long time, really sold her truck in May 2010 and now works an effective extended Mobile Tea Shoppe, a stand she sets up at ranchers' business sectors and art shows.

About working the truck, Hughes says, "Every town had its own muddled arrangement of legalities. I frequently set up at the National Park destinations since it was simpler managing the Federal government than the neighborhood organizations - that should state everything." Hughes likewise noticed the strenuous physical requests of the activity. "All the all over, bowing and lifting...Frankly, it was very hard on my body."

There are additionally those restricted living arrangements to battle with. "You have around eight feet [of space], and every individual needs to man a station," Zeidaies says, clarifying that his truck has one individual managing the flame broil, one cooking the rice, another setting up the sauces and a fourth individual covering the everything else (the sales register, packing the food, and so on.). Restricted space additionally influences the underlying prep work.

"With a truck, you need to discover leaving, and afterward you need to prepare all your food once you arrive," Bistro Truck's Raouli says. "It takes about an hour to 90 minutes after you discover your spot."

The image Zeidaies and Raouli paint may drive away intrigued restaurateurs. Or then again, quite possibly, they need to restrict their opposition, since the two of them concur that food trucks, in contrast to other brief crazes, will stay a solid, but unusual, presence in the eatery business.

"The food truck business, on the off chance that you do it well, you will effective," Raouli says. "We live in a city where you have intense pundits, and individuals' desires are high. The best will be here for quite a while and the most fragile will be gone before they know it."

[fourth-world-in-stereo]

Light on stream/crustose lichen/Moss/slime mold/haore/coral fungus/fungi/pukeko legs/raouli/pintaro nihinihi association.

[tacotruckcaterings-blog]

Taco Truck Catering

America's latest food craze really isn't so new. Just return to your childhood summers when the only thing that might break up baseball games or pool parties other when compared to a mom's voice was the sweet siren call of the ice cream truck rolling into your neighborhood.

Take that image - except replace kids with business professionals and change the ice cream man for a gourmet chef - and you have food trucks, arriving at a city near you...if they haven't arrived already.

Growing up in Morocco, Taco Truck Catering In Los Angeles heard an ice cream truck's melody. But after trying multiple ventures in New York City - waiting tables, managing night clubs and opening an on line clothing shop - Raouli developed an idea, Bistro Truck, that might carry him to retirement.

"Used to do research, and I desired to start a restaurant. I wanted to own my own place," he says. "What made sense was the food truck."

In the event that you still haven't caught on, the food truck is just what it says it is. A whole restaurant, from the kitchen to the cash register, is self-contained in a truck or van. Food truck owners, who often double because the chefs, drive their restaurants to the people rather than letting the people arrive at them. From there you start to notice differences.

There are food trucks that cater simply to the lunch crowd, and others to only the dinner rush; some do both. Numerous food trucks are nomadic, posting a week's-worth of locations on sites such as Twitter and Facebook and making them reliant on their customers'Internet savvy to steer them to their current locations. Others, like Raouli's operation, are parked daily at exactly the same spot in exactly the same neighborhood.

It's the emphasis positioned on the grade of food that defines the existing wave of food trucks. Aside from the venerable ice cream man, people have been eating street food in the United States for many years - at hot dog carts in Chicago or brat stands in Boston. But throughout the last few years customers around the world experienced the pleasure of myriad gastronomic options. Los Angeles features a kosher taco truck (Takosher). Kronic Krave Grill serves South American arepas four days per week in downtown Austin, Texas. And, not surprisingly, in Portland, Ore., owners pushed the politically correct limit with Kim Jong Grillin ', a Korean BBQ food truck named following the controversial North Korean dictator.

"I do believe we sort of revolutionized it," Raouli says of Bistro Truck's menu, whose daily specials feature items like chilled watermelon soup, kofta kebabs and strawberry panna cotta. "We were certainly one of the first ever to offer gourmet food."

Whether Raouli spearheaded the Best Food Truck In LA food truck revolution might be arguable, but the success of his Bistro Truck is unquestionably not. In late August 2010, on the one-year anniversary of its opening, Bistro Truck was named certainly one of five finalists for New York City's annual Vendy Awards, a food truck competition whose quirky name belies the competitive seriousness of the event.

Bistro Truck's nomination should give the business enterprise some much-needed notoriety that can offset the obstacles facing food trucks. Like, at traditional restaurants any mishap could be mitigated by a dessert or cocktail on the house. Food truck owners, however, are often restricted to a first impression. Patrons be in line, order their food, make the payment, grab their food and go. There's so very little time for interaction with the customers that owner must nail the ability to make sure repeat business and positive word of mouth.

On one other hand, there's the main advantage of intimacy. "We cook everything facing people, so we have a one-on-one interaction with a person - better than what we'd have at a restaurant," Raouli says.

This is the exact reason Fares "Freddy" Zeidaies - three-time Vendy finalist and the winner of this year's Vendy Cup - experienced the business. He's the ability of previously owning a brick-and-mortar restaurant, the one that generated solid business but left him unfulfilled.

[tophatsnap]

Nothing But a Man Ch 4

Behold, chapter 4!

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber.

Christine

Still holding the rose I rushed to the door.

"Are you alright, child?" Madame Giry asked with a stern expression on her face. "People have been asking after you."

"Yes I... I was speaking with my tutor..."

"Ah." She said, nodding knowingly. "I see."

She looked down at the rose in my hands.

"And what did he say?"

"He... just congratulated me." I said, ignoring the slight tone of suspicion I sensed in her voice. I trusted Madame Giry; Ever since I came to the Opera she had been like a mother to me and I had always told her everything, trusted her with every secret... but I couldn't trust her with this. Not yet.

What I had just experienced with... Erik was like meeting someone for the first time but in a way it had seemed a long time coming; as if I were finally meeting an old friend. Whatever it was, it was new and special and I didn't want anything to jeopardize it. I wouldn't tell anyone about Erik... I couldn't. Not yet. Not when I knew so little about our friendship... or courtship? No, I was silly to think that. He had not done anything at all to make me believe such a thing and surely it was a strange concept. What would I tell Madame Giry and Meg when the time came to pass? That I was courting the Opera Ghost? No, surely not. As soon as he left I found myself questioning my feelings. And whatever the feelings were, they were strong. For a man I had only physically just met, I almost found myself willing to give up a dream role just to spend more time with him...

We must have only spoken for half an hour or so but I felt such a strong connection... perhaps one that had always been there for me to see but I had not looked for it.

Madame Giry looked at me for a moment before speaking. Had she believed what I had told her?

"Yes, well. You must come to bed now. It is quite late."

As we walked back to the sleeping quarters I found that my thoughts drifted back to Erik; back to the Phantom who no doubt usually roamed these corridors at this time, back to my Angel who would always be watching over me. As a girl I had no fear as I roamed the ill-lit corridors of the sleeping Opera house for I knew that my Angel would watch over me wherever I went. Now, I felt the same sort of protection. I knew that if Erik wasn't close, all I had to do was call him and he would come, just as he has always done. I looked around me. The darkness seemed to engulf my entire surroundings save for random shreds of moonlight which littered the walls and the lamp which Madame Giry held out in front of her. I smiled to myself in the darkness; the darkness which in every way now reminded me of him. It was my special little secret.

"Did you see le Vicomte de Chagny?" Madame Giry's voice broke the perfect silence which surrounded us. "I believe he wanted to see you. Meg tells me that he is an old friend of yours."

Oh yes, Raoul...

"No I... I haven't had the chance."

"You should see him, Christine. He seems like a nice boy and he would treat you well."

"Yes, I would like to see him."

"Good, should I tell him that you will see him tomorrow night then? After your performance?"

Tomorrow? No, not tomorrow.

"I... cannot see him tomorrow." I said.

"Why not Christine? This is the third night you will have dismissed him. He will not wait forever, you are aware."

Madame Giry was a stern, righteous woman, she had never been one for avid affection and she did not often express herself. I knew though that she cared for and wanted the best for me. She always had and this was her way of showing it. She knew the way the world worked, she wanted me to have the best life that I possibly could and in order to do that, I would need to marry into money. Raoul seemed like the perfect choice; he was rich, yes, but I had already built a friendship with him which was more than what most women got when they married... I knew that the chances of finding a suitor like Raoul would be slim... but perhaps I did not want a suitor like Raoul...

"I have plans tomorrow night..."

"What plans?" She asked.

"I... Madame, you know that my tutor wishes me to return to him after each performance." As true as the statement was, I wanted to see him again. I was quite happy to blame it on him if it meant that I could see him, and I was quite sure that he would be welcoming of the blame if he knew of result.

"Your tutor." She said, stopping in her tracks, the lamp light sitting eerily on her face. To my knowledge, Madame Giry did not know the identity of my tutor, no one did. "Yes. I suppose that your career is important... but so is marriage, Christine. You should make time for le Vicomte and you should make it soon."

I lay in bed and began to think on the past few days I had had. Ever since my father died I had felt out of place, as if a piece of me were missing or ill- fitting. It was as if a piece of my puzzle was turned around the wrong way and as much as I had molded it into place over the years, it would never truly fit in.

Now, I felt changed. My father had told me that he would send to me the Angel of Music, perhaps he had known the importance of such an Angel. Perhaps Erik had known father. This was the link to my father I had been searching for; the link to myself... the missing puzzle piece. The Angel had been my companion in the Opera house when I hadn't anyone else. Had it always been Erik? Had father sent him? There were so many questions left unanswered, swirling around in my mind; creating a vortex which was preventing me from sleep. How could I possibly sleep when I knew that I was seeing him the next day? How was I to get through an entire performance with everything on my mind... with him on my mind?

I valued Erik because he was my Angel of music... but I knew that I valued him for other reasons as well. He had been so real; so real and there was so much left to discover.

Erik

I poured myself a glass of Merlot and sat down at my desk. For months all I had been able to produce was mediocrity; dreary iterations of ballet music and drawings which lacked passion entirely. Everything had changed. I was inspired. I wanted to draw, write, play... I wanted to express myself but when I finally put graphite to paper I found that I could not focus. I could not help but think of Christine; our conversation, our proximity... I could still feel her warmth in my hand.

She wanted to see me! She had met me as a man, as a real, tactile person and yet she wanted to spend time with me. The thought seemed utterly impossible and yet it was true. I did not care under what circumstances or pretense she wanted to see me; they were minor details.

I felt the peculiar sensation of laughter bubbling up inside my chest. The feeling was so foreign to me that at first I resisted it, but the more I thought on the prospect of Christine and myself, the harder it became. Eventually, I gave in and let it overcome me in a wave of warmth and elation. How could something so fortuitous have befallen someone like me? I could not remember the last time I had laughed aloud but the feeling was just as addictive as the cause. It seemed quite strange to be laughing at what was seemingly nothing. I felt quite mad but I found that I did not care! Beside the fact, I was alone... who was there to judge me?

Downing the glass of wine in celebration I poured another. I must have stayed awake for several more hours of elated merriment before readying drunkenly for bed and collapsing upon it. It was highly uncharacteristic of me to drink myself into such a state but I had never felt more at ease... never more connected with the human race. For once in my life I felt somewhat normal and was this not what normal people did to celebrate?

To my surprise I awoke to someone standing over me. Flooded with panic I forced my eyes open to see Madame Giry standing over me, accusatory expression upon her face and her hands on her hips.

"Erik." She said plainly.

"Madame!" I exclaimed, jolting awake, clasping my hand to my face. "What are you...?" I was unaccustomed to seeing anyone in my living quarters upon waking... or any time at all. Madame Giry had been the only person I had given information to regarding my entrances for I knew that she would guard said information with her life. However this privilege was not code for invitation.

"What are you doing here?!" I pulled the blankets up to my chest. "I am not dressed! What is the meaning of this?" Slowly I got out of bed and turning away from her, replaced my mask and wig before spotting my discarded shirt on the floor and pulling it over my shoulders.

"This is an outrage! I did not give you permission to visit whenever you so pleased." I sat back down on the bed and held my head in my hands "You know that I sleep during the day..."I mumbled irritably.

"Oh, never mind that, Erik. I need to speak with you about someone."

"Yes, well surely this someone has died or something equally dramatic has befallen them." I rubbed my eyes absentmindedly. "There could be no other reason for you disturbing me like this; invading my privacy."

"Oh, don't be like that." She said, sitting down across from me. "It's Christine."

Christine? How could I have said something so awful about her?

"What of Christine?" I said, looking up.

"Did you see her last night after the performance?"

"Yes." I said defensively. "I am her tutor. Of course I saw her after her performance."

"Are you seeing her again tonight?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Why are you asking me these questions?"

She sighed and began distractedly fiddling with a piece of fabric on her shawl."You know that I care about you... that I care about both of you."

"What is troubling you, Madame? Please do get to the point so that my peaceful slumber and I may reunite."

"I want to know what your intentions are with her. You know of our new Patron le Vicomte I assume? I have seen him near her dressing room and... I am aware of his interest in her."

"His interest?" I asked, sitting up a little too abruptly... I held my head once more. I had had red wine instead of white but the headache was still sizable. "His interest in her? He does not even know her!" Of course I had known of his interest. It was plain to see.

It was absurd for people to assume that he had some sort of claim on her just because he had been seen around her dressing room. Was that what everyone thought?

She shrugged. "Apparently they were childhood friends." This I had not known... I was not sure that if the time came I would be able to compete with someone she had met so young. Perhaps he had known her father; if that were the case she would undoubtedly want to spend time with this person. What sort of person would I be if I prevented her from doing that...?

"A long time ago..." I muttered, quite displeased with myself; I sounded like a petulant child, sulking over something they could not have. Perhaps that was what I was.

"So you have seen him around her?"

"I may have..." I said, turning out my bottom lip in a sign of disinterest.

"Well, I know of their friendship but it seems clear to me that he wishes to court her." I felt a terrible, lunging sensation in my stomach at her last words. Yes, I had known of his intentions but this had confirmed my fears... If it was clear to other people, soon enough it would become clear to Christine.

"What has he to offer her?" I asked, almost to myself.

"Money..." She began.

"I have money."

"So it is a matter of interest?"

"I... want what is best for Christine." I said, trying my best to sound diplomatic. "I do not however think it wise for her to throw her career away for something as trivial as marriage, and to someone such as him. He is young and frivolous with money, he will have spent It all by the age of thirty, I guarantee it... AND..." I raised my finger. "And he is not a musician; he could never fully understand Christine or truly appreciate her."

"Erik, I came to ask you what your intentions were because I knew that le Vicomte had set his sights on her. I didn't want her music lessons getting in the way of... what I believed to be an opportunity for her; I wanted her to make an effort with him because I believed him to be a good option for her."

"Option?"

"...For marriage." She said tentatively.

"Madame..? Surely not!" I was astonished. I had always thought Madame Giry to be quite scrupulous in nature and did not at all expect her to place wealth and societal position above love... above music... but Christine's well being was paramount...

"Yes, but I am more than happy for you if you do have intentions with Christine... Do you?"

I hated having to reveal anything about myself; my plans, my thoughts, my intentions... But I had to swallow my pride. If I wanted to win her I simply had to.

"Yes... I have intentions." There it was. Any dignity I had retained sitting on the bed in my disheveled state was gone. "...No doubt more honorable than those of le Vicomte."

"Yes." She said, seemingly ignoring my addendum. "I thought as much. I feel then that I should caution you. As much as I love Christine, she can be quite fickle... I worry for you."

"So then... you wished for me to step aside so that that boy might have his chance with Christine, and now when you learn of my intentions you wish to discourage me anyway? Madame, while I appreciate your concern I am more than capable."

"I simply worry for both of you! You are like my brother, Christine; my child. Of course I wish for two people that I care about to find happiness together... I just wished to discuss it first."

"Yes, well is this enough discussion for now? Have you finished your interrogations? I wish to return to bed."

"Yes. Yes, I will take my leave." She stood up and walked to the same doorway through which she had entered.

"Madame..." I called.

She turned back. "Oui?"

"How is she...?"

Madame Giry smiled. "She is happier than I have seen her in quite a while."

"Merci." I said. I could not prevent the smile from spreading across my face. It was selfish to think that I could be the cause of such a thing but I would allow myself the delusion... at least for a little while.

She left as abruptly as she came. I scratched my head, utterly beguiled by what had transpired. No matter, I knew that when I awoke it would be time to see Christine once more.

Sassy Erik strikes again.

[terribletrollstbh]

alright im gonna go eat an stuff but since i finally figured out a semi decent quirk for this boy, reblog 1-2 trolls for raouli to judge!!

[kurniaindri]

Truk Makanan: Dari Fad hingga Fixture

Kegemaran makanan terbaru Amerika benar-benar tidak begitu baru. Kembalilah ke musim panas masa kanak-kanak Anda ketika satu-satunya hal yang dapat memecah permainan bisbol atau pesta biliar selain suara ibu adalah panggilan sirene yang manis dari truk es krim yang bergulir ke lingkungan Anda.

Ambil gambar itu - kecuali ganti anak-anak dengan profesional bisnis dan ganti pembuat es krim untuk koki gourmet - dan Anda memiliki truk makanan, datang ke kota di dekat Anda ... jika mereka belum tiba.

Tumbuh di Maroko, Yassir Raouli hino ranger kemungkinan tidak pernah mendengar melodi truk es krim. Tetapi setelah mencoba beberapa usaha di New York City - meja tunggu, mengelola klub malam dan membuka toko pakaian online - Raouli datang dengan sebuah ide, Bistro Truck, yang dapat membawanya ke masa pensiun.

"Saya melakukan riset, dan saya ingin memulai restoran. Saya selalu ingin memiliki tempat sendiri," katanya. "Yang masuk akal adalah truk makanan."

Jika Anda masih belum ketahuan, truk makanan itu persis seperti yang dikatakan. Seluruh restoran, dari dapur hingga mesin kasir, mandiri di dalam truk atau van. Pemilik truk makanan, yang sering berperan sebagai koki, mengarahkan restoran mereka kepada orang-orang daripada membiarkan orang-orang datang kepada mereka. Dari sana Anda mulai memperhatikan perbedaan.

Ada truk makanan yang hanya melayani kerumunan makan siang, dan yang lain hanya untuk makan malam; beberapa melakukan keduanya. Sejumlah truk makanan bersifat nomaden, memposting lokasi bernilai satu minggu di situs-situs seperti Twitter dan Facebook dan menjadikannya bergantung pada pengetahuan internet pelanggan mereka untuk memandu mereka ke lokasi mereka saat ini. Lainnya, seperti operasi Raouli, diparkir setiap hari di tempat yang sama di lingkungan yang sama.

Penekanannya ditempatkan pada kualitas makanan yang menentukan gelombang truk makanan saat ini. Selain dari pria es krim yang terhormat, orang-orang telah makan makanan jalanan di Amerika Serikat selama beberapa dekade - di gerobak hot dog di Chicago atau anak nakal di Boston. Tetapi selama beberapa tahun terakhir hino ranger 500 pelanggan di seluruh negeri telah senang dengan segudang pilihan gastronomi. Los Angeles memiliki truk taco halal (Takosher). Kronic Krave Grill menyajikan arepas Amerika Selatan empat hari seminggu di pusat kota Austin, Texas. Dan, tidak mengherankan, di Portland, Ore., Pemilik mendorong batas yang benar secara politis dengan Kim Jong Grillin ', truk makanan BBQ Korea yang dinamai menurut diktator Korea Utara yang kontroversial.

"Kurasa kita agak merevolusionerkannya," kata Raouli tentang menu Bistro Truck, yang setiap hari menyajikan barang-barang spesial seperti sup semangka dingin, kebab kofta, dan cotta panna cotta strawberry. "Kami adalah salah satu yang pertama menawarkan makanan gourmet."

Apakah Raouli mempelopori revolusi truk makanan gourmet mungkin bisa diperdebatkan, tetapi keberhasilan Bistro Truck-nya jelas tidak. Pada akhir Agustus 2010, pada peringatan satu tahun pembukaannya, Bistro Truck dinobatkan sebagai satu dari lima finalis untuk Vendy Awards tahunan New York City, sebuah kompetisi truk makanan yang namanya aneh memungkiri kesungguhan kompetitif dari acara tersebut.

Pencalonan Bistro Truck harus memberi bisnis ini ketenaran yang sangat dibutuhkan yang dapat mengimbangi hambatan yang dihadapi truk makanan. Misalnya, di restoran tradisional, kecelakaan apa pun dapat dikurangi dengan hidangan penutup atau koktail di rumah. Namun demikian, pemilik truk makanan seringkali terbatas pada kesan pertama. Pelanggan mengantre, memesan makanan mereka, melakukan pembayaran, mengambil makanan mereka dan pergi. Ada begitu sedikit waktu untuk berinteraksi dengan pelanggan sehingga vendor harus memakukan pengalaman untuk memastikan bisnis yang berulang dan dari mulut ke mulut yang positif.

Di sisi lain, ada keunggulan keintiman. "Kami memasak segala sesuatu di depan orang, jadi kami memiliki interaksi satu-satu dengan pelanggan - lebih baik dari apa yang akan kami miliki di restoran," kata Raouli.

Itulah alasan persisnya Tarif "Freddy" Zeidaies - finalis Vendy tiga kali dan pemenang Piala Vendy tahun ini - terjun ke bisnis ini. Dia memiliki pengalaman sebelumnya memiliki restoran bata-dan-mortir, yang menghasilkan bisnis yang solid tetapi membuatnya tidak terpenuhi.

[pippa-writes]

HOW AM I ONLY JUST SEEING THIS THIS IS BRILLIANT AND SO DESCRIPTIVE AND I COULD SEE LITERALLY EVERYTHING SO CLEARLY MY POOR RAOULY U WILL BE OK COME HERE CHILD

Musical Inspo #37

“Submerge�� by Phuture Primitive

https://youtu.be/RR6ApG5rkOY

@nikkalia @sfiddy @smokeyloki  @i-penna @tasteofthebitchpudding @pensez-a-daae @thebeautyofdisorder @kwat01 @jamiepage19 @persephone-victorious @sparklyscorpion @wheel-of-fish  @rjdaae @rscoil @jamiepage19@pippa-writes, @ladycavalier, @staminaoverlook, @editoress, @violon-du-mort, @tallestsilver @ilustrariane

[tophatsnap]

I don't know if someone asked you this before but... What is your favorite song (obviously from PotO)? And what do you think about "Love never dies"?

This is difficult! They're all beautiful in their own ways! When the drums start in the title song. When the music swells in MOTN. The entire melody of PONR. It's so hard to pick just one. Probably MOTN or PONR though!Ah. Love Never Dies. Ok, so I may lose followers because of this but I'm going to be honest. I have mixed feelings about it. I don't know if this is because I saw it live or not, but here we go.On one hand, as a Phan, I understand the hate and feel some of it myself. Phanty is about redemption amongst other things, and the existence of Love Never Dies pretty much invalidates that and invalidates Erik's transformation and sacrifice... because he gives her up... and then 10 years later he's trying to lure her to him all over again? And the whole Devil Take the Hindmost deal? What the hell!? Meg is a psycho. Madame Giry is also a psycho. Raouly is a drunkard. I mean what the hell. Way to take all our loved characters and completely destroy what we loved about them??? Oh yeah and on another note, seeing Erik so personable and domestic and... you know... speaking to people and not murdering them... it bothers me. And there is also NO WAY he and Christine would have had rumpy pumpy out of wedlock. AND while Christine was engaged. There are a lot of issues with this show and it all has a very fanfic feel to it. BUT.I saw it live in 2010 (i think), and being Australian, it was the good one. And HONESTLY. The set was incredible! I was blown away by the way it spun around and turned in on itself and i mean they dont show it properly on the dvd but it was incredible. I see a lot of theatre and this was amazing. And you know what, the whole show was amazing live. It was a spectacle. A lot of the songs were beautiful and apart from a few dodgy lyrics... and Ben Lewis's eyes it was a great show to physically see. And a large part of me (even though they were butchering my favourite story) was excited to see another chapter brought to life. I mean let's face it. If anyone turned any one of those fanfics out there into a production, i'd see it. Wouldn't you?

[tophatsnap]

You guys, I hecked up.

I lost my phone. And by that i mean it fell into the sea. Raouly wasn't there to run in and fetch it for me but if he was, he totes would have, and he would have found it. Cos he does that. Anyway i had my driver's licence and credit card in the case so there's a lot to sort out when i get home :( I mean, yeah i have to buy another one but i lost all my holiday snaps. :( sad times. Accepting offers of condolences and pity forthwith. :)