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Epilogue - 3 Years Later
[E/C / Post-LND / Domestic Fluff, Angst, WWI AU/ Fic length: 100k]
Her heart raced as the melody evolved, the minor key easily overstepping the melody, taking over. Darkness and chaos. She wanted to slam down the piano cover, to scream, "Stop!" but she sat on her hands, her jaw clenched. The storm in his eyes was in full gale force, the veins and muscles in his neck strained. She could picture him, suddenly, in the heat of battle, knee-deep in mud and sound, unable to see which way was up.
She felt suffocated by the melody, unable to take much more, when it broke. The sound radiated through the room as the melody came back, but bolstered by a matching harmony, decimating the minor notes until they were but a memory. Beatrice gasped for a breath she didn't realize she was holding in, cleansed by the sound. Gustav leaned back as he played, letting the downpour of notes wash over him, too. His eyes closed, his fingers moving of their own accord. The music was victorious, all sound unifying in one single sound. The harmonies began to fade out one by one, until only the first melody was left. It eventually faded too, the last major key ending with hope.
Beatrice hadn't noticed the tears on her face until the piano stopped ringing. She wiped at one, still staring at the keys. "What...
a/n Thank you for reading and supporting and reblogging and encouraging and commenting!! I'm remiss to leave these guys for too long - hopefully I will continue to add to their story in drips and drabs as time goes on.
In the meantime, I'm eying some of my more finished WIPs that will be coming soon!
Read on Ao3 // Read the first installment, A Chance to Live here
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I Know What You Know
Rated M - Smut/Oneshot, Erik/Christine
Erik loved her inside and out, as she did him; stretch marks and scars should be nothing to a love such as theirs. She just wished that she believed that.
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Chapter 20 - Disclosure
[E/C / Post-LND / Domestic Fluff, Angst, WWI AU/ Fic length: 100k]
"I'm forgetting something," she said, voice small and high. The feather on her hat fluttered atop her head. Erik closed the gap between them, taking her shaking hands from the drawer.
"We've checked everything," he said. She was still looking about the room. He bent slightly to catch her gaze. "Look at me. It's just one night. If you don't want to do it, you don't have to. They can’t make you. I'll make our excuses; we can still bow out."
She shook her head, tense but meeting his gaze. "No, no, I can do it."
A small smile caught on his lips. "You will be a triumph. Rome won't know what hit it. After what duress you've performed under...La Carlotta, New York...me....this will be old hat to you. Four songs, and then we will never need to leave this island again if you don't want to."
She had started to tear up, in a response to both anxiety and Erik's words. She let out a choked laugh, though, at his offer. "I'll hold you to that, monsieur."
He put a hand to his chest. "I promise. And I'll be there the whole time. The minute you don't feel comfortable, we can leave. That's a promise, as well. Ready to go?"
She nodded.
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raoul can be bi and asian. as a treat.
[ID: A drawing of Raoul de Chagny from Phantom of the Opera. He is a young asian man with somewhat wavy black hair and sideburns. He wears a black coat, shirt, waistcoat, and cravat. A bi flag has been painted in his cheek. end ID]
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Chapter 19 - Negotiations
[E/C / Post-LND / Domestic Fluff, Angst, WWI AU/ Fic length: 100k]
"General Picot, may I introduce Lieutenant de Chagny."
Gustav saluted, but the general reached out a hand instead. "At ease, soldier. It's nice to meet you." His French was tinged with an accent: American? Gustav tested his hypothesis by returning the greeting in English.
"Nice to meet you."
"Ah, you caught me," the general returned in English. "I'm only French by way of Canada. Do you prefer to speak in English?" he asked, shrugging to show his own flexibility.
Gustav returned the shrug. "My first language is French."
"Parli Italiano?" the general asked, moving through the languages.
Gustav barely registered the switch, responding, "Yes, of course," with his nearly imperceptible accent. If he was at a party, or with his friends, he would have continued, raffling through German, Swedish, Russian, and Greek. But this was not a party, and he wasn’t so sure this man was a friend.
General Picot looked at him with awe. "Amazing. The men were right, you’ll be perfect. Come walk with me."
Gustav followed him as he strode away from the tent, out of earshot. He furrowed his brow at the odd comment. Perfect for what?
a/n: Only 5? more chapters left to the stunning conclusion! Thank you for your support :)
Read on Ao3 // Read the first installment, A Chance to Live here
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when one character brokenly says “i have nothing to offer you” and the other character looks at them with fond exasperation, because there’s nothing else they could want except the gift of their love. that shit gets me.
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I have so much love and respect for women who are honest about their own loneliness but also find the good in it like when audrey hepburn said “I have to be alone very often. I’d be quite happy if I spent from Saturday night until Monday morning alone in my apartment. That’s how I refuel” and when charlotte bronte said “I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself” and when jenny slate said “I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that there will always be a ribbon of loneliness running through who I am. But that’s why I want to do comedy, and why I want to connect with people. You can use that ribbon to be a part of a finer tapestry, or you can choke yourself out with it! Your choice!” and when mary oliver said “whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh & exciting - over & over announcing your place in the family of things”
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Rebecca Caine had said on her twitter page that she and Colm spoke since then and worked things out. but yet she's still posting all he did and how that guy Drabinsky let it happen. I also read that guy was already convicted, done jail time.
She and Colm Wilkinson did make up and Garth Drabinsky was convicted and served time, but Drabinsky still has a show coming to Broadway, despite his conviction (and basically being banned from leading any public company or investing in Ontario). It's very likely that this is what prompted Rebecca Caine to post, given that she tagged the post #GarthDrabinsky and basically said it in this tweet.
Not going to lie, anon, but you sound a lot like the exact people Caine mentioned in her post who condemned or disbelieved her, not to mention the people she has encountered who described her as "difficult to work with". I really hope you don't mean it and that it's just my misreading of your tone, but I do think we need to all think about how a guy can be convicted of fraud and serve time and still be able to bring a show to Broadway, while the woman whom repeatedly called out this stuff is labeled as "difficult" and "still posting all he did".
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Chapter 18 - Contact
[E/C / Post-LND / Domestic Fluff, Angst, WWI AU/ Fic length: 100k]
Her back was to the hallway wall, they were nearly to their room, but something in both of them prickled at the idea of returning to their bed from the anonymity of the darkness. In the pitch black, they could find each other without the garish moonlight coming through the window to expose how far they had fallen apart these last few months. The grief of losing Gustav, the stress of their work, the changes on the island, the deep, aching sense of dread after Erik's collapse: all those could be dealt with later. To expose those insecurities now would be obscene.
Read on Ao3 // Read the first installment, A Chance to Live here
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Chapter 17 - No Man's Land
[E/C / Post-LND Webber-based / Domestic Fluff with a side of Angst / Fic length: 100k]
No longer would she be beholden to others’ images of her. When the newcomers left, when the war ended, so would her fleeting fame. She would have control of her life once more. She would have her son back, her family together. Music would not interrupt that peace. Not again.
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Chapter 16 - Shot in the Dark
[E/C / Post-LND Webber-based / Domestic Fluff with a side of Angst / Fic length: 100k]
Adele ran, her boots pounding the gravel, her precious cargo clutched in her sweating palm. The flaps of her coat flew behind her as she dashed up the steps of the white-washed house, out of breath.
"Mail!" she yelled. Of course, she had already looked at the envelopes and saw the new letter from her brother. However, she knew she wasn't allowed to open mail until she was in the house. She threw the remainder of the mail to the floor and held the parcel in her fingertips, buzzing with excitement.
Christine met her in the foyer, laughing slightly as she picked up the discarded mail. Erik sat, watching the scene from the piano.
"You're late, mon cher," he mock-warned, and Adele let out a deep sigh.
"Can we read the letters now? I think one is for me!" she exclaimed, pleading with doe-eyes. Erik responded with a single note on the piano.
"Please?" she tried, one last time. He played the same note again.
She hung her head low as she walked to the piano bench, the picture of tragedy as she muttered, "F sharp, third octave."
a/n - in which Erik is surprised his son is dramatic
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Chapter 15 - Uncharted Territory
[E/C / Post-LND Webber-based / Domestic Fluff with a side of Angst / Fic length: 100k]
After dinner, Gustav had half a mind to leave, half a mind to stay. As he watched Beatrice conversing easily with others, even laughing, he clenched his jaw. The blood of his father coursed through his veins and pounded into his head, passionate and impulsive. It whispered: cause a scene. He finished his scotch in a single swallow and sat at the piano. “Canto Beatrice” it was.
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Chapter 14 - Encounter
[E/C / Post-LND Webber-based / Domestic Fluff with a side of Angst / Fic length: 100k]
She abruptly stopped playing. "Gustav, I thought we were friends," she pouted, which involved batting her long eyelashes, to her advantage. "Don't tell me made-up stories."
"I'm telling the truth. It all happened over at the old opera house.”
“The one that burnt down? But that was-“
“19 years ago? I know.”
Beatrice stared, mouth slightly agape. “I had heard ghost stories of that old place, from my governess, but I assumed they were old wives’ tales to scare us children into behaving. The phantom of the opera...surely, you aren’t talking about…” She shook the idea from her head.
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Chapter 13 - Displaced
[E/C / Post-LND Webber-based / Domestic Fluff with a side of Angst / Fic length: 100k]
"Paris is a big place with a lot of temptations,” Erik warned. “Be careful of who and what you trust."
For a moment, they all sat in silence, recalling their own tumultuous memories of the city and what would come with the sunrise that next day. Gustav suddenly felt an impetus to ask his parents more about their lives, about what he missed.
"Did you ever go to war?" he asked, voice small.
Erik shook his head in the darkroom. "Not in a literal sense, no," he said, considering the question. "But I’ve been in enough conflict to know there's a difference between what you read in books and what is real." He knew Gustav had been approaching this like he approached most obstacles: with careful study. "You'll know more than a lot of these officers, just from what you've experienced in your own life, based on how you think, how you view the world."
Erik leaned forward again, his elbows on his knees. He swirled his undrunk whiskey, the amber liquid turning to a dark ochre in the low light of the dying fire. "You're going to meet privileged people who've never left their land making decisions about other people's lives, and you're going to be put in some difficult positions. Just be sure you stay true to who you are, and what you want to do."
This was one of the longest speeches Gustav had ever heard from his father, and he contemplated it.
A/n: In which Erik participates in the universal dad-behavior of making his family leave ungodly early for a trip//packing the car instead of showing his emotions
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Chapter 12 - Dislocation
[E/C / Post-LND Webber-based / Domestic Fluff with a side of Angst / Fic length: 100k]
Gustav dared not touch the envelope, staring at his mother in confusion. He had never heard her like this, and that made him fear what was on the table. She stood apart from them, putting a good two feet between her and the letter, hands tucked under her arms as if she was uncomfortable with having even touched it.
From where Erik was sitting, he could see, clearly, the wheat and crown he knew and loathed. He had put a sea between his family and theirs, yet they still haunted them. He felt the sting of betrayal, too - it seemed he was not the only partner keeping secrets. Christine avoided his gaze, still watching the envelope as if it could bite.
A moment passed, and Gustav pushed past the already cracked De Chagny seal to unfold the heavy packet of papers. Some were clearly written recently, on typewriters, but some were on old stationery and some crumbled with age at his touch.
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Chapter 10: Duplicity
[E/C / Post-LND Webber-based / Domestic Fluff with a side of Angst / Fic length: 100k]
“What do we do?”
“What can we do?” Erik responded. “Our assets are safe; our property is secure. We just have to give it time and hope this resolves itself.”
Christine’s face suggested she didn’t like the idea of “wait and see.” Erik remembered something else. He turned to Christine, leaning it.
“Whatever you do, do not tell Gustav any of this. The last thing we need is him getting any notions.”
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Chapter 9: Atonement
[E/C / Post-LND Webber-based / Domestic Fluff with a side of Angst / Fic length: 100k]
He stared. He hadn’t intended to, but he did. In his line of work, he had met a variety of people, both men and women, some senile, most eccentric. He often left the meetings wondering how on earth those people made their way through the world at all, let alone gained the acclaim they’d accumulated.
The woman opening the door, though, burned with a star-quality he hadn’t seen before. She dressed simply: a lace-knit shawl around her shoulders, a deep blue dress in some sort of wool to keep out the chill of the house. But she wore it well, with the posture and body language of someone who knew their worth, understood what they looked like to others. Someone who was comfortable on the stage.
He had been confused when they had given this assignment to him.
“She’s only 41…how could she be retired?”
They had simply shrugged and, soon enough, he was on a ship to the continent. Now, he stared at this 41-year-old, who, besides some smile lines, looked much younger. He knew she had children, but he couldn’t imagine her getting herself dirty, going through the stress of motherhood. On an island that, so far, appeared to be composed of mostly hardened, local fishermen, to see an aristocrat (and that was what she was, clearly) was jarring. He realized that he had been staring entirely too long. He stuffed the paper he had been holding into his pocket, removing his hat out of respect.
“Are you Mrs. Christine Daae?”
A/N: Christine Daae stan hours are 24/7 over here. Enjoy :)
Read on Ao3 // Read the first installment, A Chance to Live here
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