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sylphidine · 4 months

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[Fic] Call Signs, Chapter 33

Fandom: Deltarune

‘Verse: Human AU

Pairing: Swatch/Spamton [Swatchton]

Characters: Spamton Addison, T.M. Tanner, Leroux Kaard, Lance O'Toole, GiGi McCray

Rating: Mature

Chapter title: Sweet And Sour Grapes

Chapter summary: Spamton and T.M. fit a lot more into a Sunday morning than either of the two of them had planned.

Author notes:

Again, apologies for the delay in posting. I did not intend to take TWO MONTHS between chapters. I work retail, so yes, the winter holidays definitely eat away at my writing time each year. But offline life, which is Always Interesting [insert sarcastic emoji here] decided to get Even More Interesting this year, and I've had to spend more time than I'd like clearing up the wreckage.

Anyway. On to the chapter. Warnings as always for angst and dark themes, sprinkled in amongst the fluph.

My thanks to @jaimistoryteller for last-minute beta-reading and hand-holding while I dithered over some of the details.

_________________

“You know, you’re the first person I’ve met who thinks in music the way I do.”

“R-really?”

“Mmmm-hmmm.” T.M. straightened up from where she’d been reshelving the LPs and CDs that Spamton handed her, one at a time. She was filing albums that had aged out from being “new acquisitions” and could be added to the radio station’s core library, housed in Prodo in a recessed alcove.

When T.M. had invited Spamton along this morning after breakfast, she had explained this was her usual Sunday task, self-imposed of course, but one that gave her enormous satisfaction.

Spamton got the impression that T.M. didn’t invite just anyone to do this task with her.

But things had changed between them since last night.

This morning should have been awkward as hell, once Spamton realized that there was an extra person in his and Swatch’s bed.

But, surprisingly, it wasn’t.

His brain registered that he must have fallen asleep in his clothes, as had Swatch. Spamton still had his arms around Swatch and his face buried in Swatch’s slightly scratchy sweater. That was normal.

What wasn’t normal was the warmth at his back… a warmth that felt like someone else’s back.

Spamton remembered T.M. lying down behind him last night. He himself had turned over to clamber onto Swatch, as was the nightly pattern for them both.

He remembered that she had put an arm loosely over his shoulders, not tightly under his arms and around his waist.

She had been an anchor, not a restraint.

He cautiously moved from his usual position on his right side, to gradually be half on his back, half on his left side.

A head of blonde hair with aqua-blue tips was on a pillow next to him. Half under blankets, he also saw an arm clad in a black and silver sweater with a cat-and-moon pattern.

The puzzle pieces came together then as Spamton remembered blowing an emotional gasket the night before and apologetically telling T.M. that it would be all right if she stayed over. He had felt awful about ruining the cuddle puddle the three of them had had going, but he couldn’t stop all of the rage at Mike from choking him.

Still, it wasn’t T.M.’s fault that he was a screwed-up mess.

Not only was everyone in their clothes, but he was lying on top of the big comforter. At some point either Swatch or T.M. must have gotten up to find an extra pillow and extra blankets to throw over all three of them.

Cozy and reassuring.

He must have twitched, or his breathing must have changed, because his thoughts were interrupted by a quiet voice asking, “Y-You awake?”

"Yes," he managed to croak out, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

And then Spamton woke up for real.

His arms were still around Swatch, but the two of them were the only ones in the bed.

The sensations of three, not two, had felt so real, though.

He resolved to mull the night over later. First things first… nature was calling. No, more accurately, nature was SCREAMING.

He carefully disengaged himself from Swatch, who remained deeply asleep. Not that Spamton blamed them. Swatch had definitely earned a morning of sleeping in.

The question on the tip of Spamton's mind was answered when he sat up and put his hand down on a piece of paper. T.M. had left a note.

Gonna crash on the couch. Wake me up and we can do breakfast.

He quickly grabbed some clothes to change into in the small downstairs bathroom.

When he headed into the living room, T.M. was already pulling herself up into a sitting position on the couch. Spamton felt a tiny flash of amusement at her hair sticking out in various directions. For once she was the rumpled one.

"Morning, Short Stuff," she greeted him. "Guess you saw my note." Her voice sounded normal… chipper, sweet, no hidden undertones.

"Uh huh,” he answered. “Should we - should we wait f-for Swatch?"

She flung off the blanket she’d been using and stood up, stretching. "Nah, let them sleep. We can go to the caf, I still have guest points from last semester."

That was a relief to him, although he would have been willing to pay his way. "Okay. B-but let me leave a note."

“Sure thing.”

___________________________

There was an unexpected delay before breakfast, unexpected at least on Spamton’s part. T.M. insisted on stopping by her dorm first to change clothes, saying, “Esther will never let me live it down if she sees me for breakfast in the same outfit I showed up for dinner in!”

Spamton grinned at that. He remembered Esther from last semester. He was fond of her because she never made a fuss or gave him the side-eye when he asked her to halve the portion of whatever was being served at mealtimes, unlike some of the other staff who would make height jokes in response to his request. And another trait that endeared Esther to him was she seemed to believe that every day should be Talk Like A Pirate Day.

He hadn’t expected to be greeted by a pair of actual pirates when T.M. unlocked the door to her suite.

The shorter of the two barely came up to Spamton's waist, brandishing what looked like a garden trowel. He wore a jaunty black cardboard hat, decorated with a skull and crossbones. Otherwise his outfit was that of any other kindergartner. He had soft, baby-fine brown hair, bright blue eyes, and dimples in his pale cheeks.

“Ho ho! I’m the bad guy!” the smaller pirate chortled, sticking his tongue out. The taller, wearing a similar homemade hat, was quick to say, "Lancelot Roland O'Toole! Standeth down, swabby. These be fellow captains here to parley." Leroux followed this up almost immediately by mouthing, half-silently, "Please playeth alonge."

Leroux's admonishment was apparently acceptable, because Lance looked back, smiled, and replied, "okay, lesser dad", as he put his improvised weapon away.

T.M. stepped into the conversational breach as she strode into the living room. She intoned, "Permission to come aboard, Captains?" At the young boy's almost regal nod, a sharp contrast to his delighted grin, she bent down to shake Lance's hand, then pointed behind her to introduce Spamton.

"Pirate Lancelot, this is Pirate Stanton. Please treat him as an honored guest."

There was the sound of laughter from the next room, followed by GiGi's voice chiming in with the comment, "Welcome To The Poop Deck!"

Leroux looked pained, but rolled his eyes fondly and shrugged in a what can you do kind of way. T.M. rolled her own eyes back at him in a far less fond manner and continued, "And if you good shipmates will excuse me, I'm feeling filthy as a bilge rat."

She moved off in what Spamton presumed was the direction of her own room, tossing over her shoulder as she went, "If Pirate Regina has used up all the hot water and not left any for my shower, I'm going to make her walk the plank."

The kindergartner giggled at that, and then grabbed Spamton’s hand, tugging him towards a chair. Leroux followed, pulling his own pirate hat off and running a dark hand through his silvery beaded braids. He sat on the couch next to a pile of winter coats, and Lance plopped himself down to sit on the floor.

"Stan-ton. That’s a funny name. Your hair is funny too. Can I call you Grunkle Stan?"

It took Spamton a few seconds to realize what Lance was referencing, but once he did, he decided to roll with it. He leaned forward in his chair and answered in a gravelly voice, doing his best to disguise his stutter, "Kid, I think you’re m-mixing me up with Ford. But I'll take that as a compliment!"

That response had Lance literally rolling on his back laughing and waving his feet in the air. GiGi came into the room, stuffing one last textbook into her backpack, and commented, “Watch where you’re kicking, little guy. Remember to respect the pottery.” Leroux got to his own feet, saying, “Cometh now, my irrepressible prince, it is time to go.”

“Okay!” The little boy grabbed his coat off the pile, and then handed GiGi hers, saying, “Here you go, girldad.”

Spamton was impressed by the kid’s good manners, but was starting to feel confused about the dynamics in the room. Leroux picked up on the vibe and shot Spamton a worried look disguised by a smile, saying, “Always good to see you. I hope to get a chance to talketh more with you at the next staffe meeting.” He grabbed his own coat from the arm of the couch, and the three left the apartment.

What was THAT all about? Spamton mused to himself. You’d think this was THEIR home and that T.M. was the visitor.

And, furthermore, it was one thing to know that his boss at the radio station had a child; it was another thing to meet that child and to realize that the little boy looked nothing like Leroux and didn’t even share his last name. And what was the deal with the kid calling Leroux his “lesser dad”?

The thought crossed Spamton’s mind that the old Gainsboro Stanton Addison would have felt obligated to be appalled, assuming the nickname was a rude one on the child’s part. He was glad to find himself intrigued instead, and felt vindicated in his hard-fought-for belief that family was where you found it.

But if this was how GiGi treated T.M. in the apartment that they were supposed to share, it was no wonder that T.M. found excuses to study, eat, and sleep elsewhere.

The possibility of asking T.M. to move into the townhouse with him and Swatch flashed across his mind once again. Swatch had even joked about it last night, before everything had gone pear-shaped.

Then it’s settled. None of us are ever leaving this couch again. Sorry, Moggy, you live here now.

Swatch had been joking, hadn’t they?

The lady herself appeared in the doorway not even a moment later and interrupted his further reflection on the topic. T.M. was wearing a deep purple sweater with a wide leather belt, as well as skinny jeans tucked into knee-high fringed boots. She shrugged herself into her studded leather jacket. “Sorry to leave you with the pirate crew, but I really was going to crawl out of my skin if I didn’t get cleaned up. You ready for breakfast?”

“V-very ready.”

____________________

“J-just so I know what you - you mean by ‘thinking in m-music’, do you mean you actually see scenes from your life as song - song lyrics?” That wasn’t exactly what he meant to say, but Spamton was finding it hard to lay his hands on the words he wanted.

T.M. looked over at him and tilted her head to the side. “Not quite, but that sounds really cool, too. Like those AMVs that people make for their favorite characters. No, what I mean is, it sounds to me like when someone says something to you, your brain leaps immediately into responding with a song lyric.”

“Huh. I d-don’t know that I ever p-put two and two t-t-together like that, but you may be on to something.” A suspicion crossed his mind and he blurted out, before he could think better of it, “Hey. Is this about - about last night? Because I’m still tired of talking about Mike.”

She picked up an empty album jacket and tapped him gently on the head with it. “It’s not always about you. But his name was Mike, huh?”

Spamton was torn between wanting to curse himself out for letting Mike's name slip and wanting to laugh out loud at how slyly she'd maneuvered him, so he settled for a snort and a smirk, saying, “Give the lucky lady ten points, she only needs another ten to win the kewpie doll.”

T.M. smirked back at him at that, and then gave him a piercing look. “You know, Swatch was right. Your stutter really DOES go away when you’re pissed off.”

How was he supposed to answer that?

At the sight of his conflicted expression, T.M. rushed in to continue, “Don’t blame Swatch. They didn’t give up any secrets about you. We were talking about Leroux, believe it or not, and how all that ‘ye olde Englishe’ pose of his goes away when he’s really serious about something, and Swatch mentioned something about when Catto tried to go two hours without talking, and then got a fit of hiccups for another two hours, and God, I’m just babbling and making things worse and putting my foot deeper in my mouth, aren’t I?”

She looked so stricken as she said that last bit that Spamton had to laugh. “N-no, you’re fine. If I - I think about it, it’s actually f-f-flattering to know my partner talks about me to his best friend.”

“Damn straight,” T.M. replied in a relieved voice. “They really love you, you know. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“Oh, I d-don’t. We - we got that settled after the initial m-m-m-misunderstanding.”

“Good.”

“But about last night…”

Spamton had to reach up to do it, but he used the same empty record album jacket [NURSERY CRYME by Genesis] to whap her on the head. “Let’s t-t-talk about you, not me, T.M.”

She crinkled her eyes and wrinkled her nose at him with an exaggerated sigh. “Fiiiiiiiiiiiiine. Do we have all day?”

His phone chose that moment to interrupt with a text notification, and he held it out to her so she could read it.

From: SWATCH

Sunday: 10:52

Got your note, thank you {REALLY} for letting me sleep. Didn’t know how much I needed it. You coming back here before your work shift or should I meet you at Luigi’s after?

“Well, then. If you don’t mind hanging out with me, instead of flying back to Birdman, I suppppppppppppppose I can let you in on my deep dark secrets,” T.M. said flippantly.

Spamton matched her tone and replied, “Mmmmm, dish to me baby, I love me some d-deep dish.” He typed back to Swatch, It makes sense if I just stay on campus for now and meet up at Luigi’s later. And are we food shopping tonight? It’s supposed to snow this week.

The answer came back immediately. Sounds good. Although I’ll believe snow when I see it. I’m walking around topless. And bottomless.

He grinned to himself and texted, Promise?

“Oh my God, you’re actually blushing! You two are so cute and domestic, I’m gonna melt into goop, I swear.”

Spamton’s grin froze. He'd forgotten in the few brief moments of his texting exactly who was still peering over his shoulder.

He looked up at T.M. in embarrassment, but her face was neither mocking nor judgemental, and her next words sounded thoughtful, as though they weren’t meant to reach his ears. “I wish I had what you and Swatch have.”

Should he pretend he hadn’t heard?

The decision was taken out of his hands. While he was trying to come up with something to say, T.M. brushed him aside, physically as well as verbally by muttering, “Be right back,” as she beat a hasty exit from the Prodo studio.

When she came back, Spamton put on a show of needing to also hit the restroom, to give her a moment. He took his time, but not excessively so. On his return, he noticed that the door to Prodo was closed and the electric RECORDING IN SESSION! DO NOT DISTURB! sign was lit up over the transom.

After a few nerve-wracking moments, T.M. opened the door and let him in, but the sign stayed lit. She closed the door behind him, turned away and shimmied up to perch on the counter behind the mixing board, kicking her legs nervously. She pointed her finger at him and asked, for all the world sounding like a prophet of doom, “Do you have a ‘Go To Hell’ playlist? I think everyone should have a ‘Go To Hell’ playlist.”

Spamton took a seat near her on one of the office stools, swiveling pensively back and forth on its casters. “That’s - that’s a fair question. I assume you h-have one of your own?”

She nodded. “I’ve actually got multiples. And lucky me, one of them is three-quarters of the songs on one album.”

“Huh.”

“But I need a new playlist for my current situation.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. My mother wants to marry some guy she's known for all of four months and move to fucking New Jersey to breed racehorses.”

She let that sink in, and he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “That’s - yeah, that’s what I’d c-call…. Something. I d-d-don’t know what I’d call it, but… yeah.” Spamton could see how upset T.M. was, even without having any context. He felt like it was his turn to be dancing in a minefield.

“What it is, my friend, is pure unadulterated narcissistic selfishness.” T.M.’s voice rose with every word, until she was practically screaming. “The woman didn’t ask me, she TOLD me. On Tuesday night. Right before you stopped by. And she doesn’t even have the decency to wait until I graduate. She’s got all her plans set for the end of April. So just like Swatch, in a couple of months I’ll have no home either…”

She paused for breath, and then spoke more calmly. “It doesn’t bug me when you and Swatch make goo-goo eyes at each other, not like GiGi and Leroux. Because I’ve got a gut feeling that you and my Swatchy are going to go the distance, and I’m also pretty sure that GiGi’s going to get bored… or scared… and dump Leroux. I just feel bad for Leroux’s kid… he’ll latch onto anyone who shows him the tiniest scrap of affection.” She snorted as a thought seemed to strike her. “Too damn relatable.”

That was a bomb that Spamton didn’t even want to START defusing. Too damn relatable for me, too.

T.M. seemed to have run out of steam by then. They both sat there in silence for a few minutes, until T.M. said, entirely too brightly, “So! Before you head off for your library job. How’s about a little music therapy?”

"For you, or f-for me?"

"Tell you what. Make it interesting, let's each pick one song." She wore more of a rictus than a smile. "You go first."

He nodded uneasily. "Okay. B-but I need - need a minute."

Spamton closed his eyes to give the impression that he was thinking hard, but almost as soon as T.M. had mentioned a "Go To Hell" playlist, he knew one song that should be on his. It had been a staple on the “psychic jukebox” at The Grass Roots Tavern; he remembered that John the bartender always used to make rude comments when it came on, so he never picked it himself. But the song satisfied something dark in Spamton’s soul.

“G-got it,” he said now, opening his eyes. He flipped through the CD racks until he found the Billy Talent album he was looking for. He fitted the disc into the slot on the mixing board, adjusted the volume so that it was loud, but not likely to burst anyone’s eardrums, and hit the “play” button.

I stumble through the wreckage

Rusted from the rain

There's nothing left to salvage

No one left to blame

Among the broken mirrors

I don't look the same

I'm rusted from the rain

Dissect me 'til my blood runs

Down into the drain

My bitter heart is pumping

Oil into my veins

I'm nothing but a tin man

Don't feel any pain

I don't feel any pain

I'm rusted from the rain

Go on, crush me like a flower

Rusted from the rain

Come on, strip me of my power

Beat me with your chains

And if I'm the king of cowards

You're the queen of pain

I'm rusted from the rain

You hung me like a picture

Now I'm just a frame

I used to be your lapdog

Now I'm just a stray

Shackled in the graveyard

Left here to decay

I'm rusted from the rain

Go on, crush me like a flower

Rusted from the rain

Come on, strip me of my power

Beat me with your chains

And if I'm the king of cowards

You're the queen of pain

I'm rusted from the rain

He hadn’t realized that he’d closed his eyes again and was practically panting until T.M.’s voice broke through the blood-red haze of his rage. Tears soaked his eyelashes as he blinked at her behind his glasses. She was sitting on the other swivel stool next to him, holding his hands gently but firmly in hers.

“Wow, man. Just… wow. That wasn’t what I expected you to pick, but it kind of proves my point.”

He thought he’d gotten all the poison out when he’d broken down all those times in front of Ballew after Ballew had found him and brought him home.

When he’d verbally vomited up all the details to Dr. George and to his therapist, in his months of treatment, about what he’d put his body through during his homeless stretch.

When he’d outlined the timeline of his rise and fall to Swatch a few days ago.

Would there never be an end to it?

“Your turn,” he said gruffly, his throat feeling like he’d swallowed a handful of razor blades and then washed them down with a mug of bile. “T-tell me who you hate as much as I - I hate Mike.”

T.M. had an odd expression on her face as she dropped his hands and pressed the “play” button for her own selection. “Take a wild guess,” she said quietly as the voice of Tori Amos rolled out from the speakers.

Every finger in the room is pointing at me

I want to spit in their faces then I get afraid what that could bring

I got a bowling ball in my stomach, I got a desert in my mouth

Figures that my courage would choose to sell out now

I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets

Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets

I've been raising up my hands, drive another nail in

Just what god needs, one more victim

Why do we crucify ourselves every day?

I crucify myself and nothing I do is good enough for you

I crucify myself every day

I crucify myself and my heart is sick of being

I said my heart is sick of being in chains

Chains

Got a kick for a dog begging for love

I got to have my suffering so that I can have my cross

I know a cat named Easter, he says, will you ever learn

You're just an empty cage, girl, if you kill the bird

I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets

Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets

I've been raising up my hands, drive another nail in

Got enough guilt to start my own religion

Why do we crucify ourselves every day?

I crucify myself and nothing I do is good enough for you

I crucify myself every day

I crucify myself and my heart is sick of being

I said my heart is sick of being in chains

Chains

Please be

Save me

I cry

And now T.M. was crying as the piano notes reached a crescendo along with Tori’s wails of anguish.

Spamton didn’t think, he acted.

He only wanted to comfort his friend.

But somehow he ended up half in her lap and she half in his, one of her legs trapped between both of his, her hands in his hair, his hands cupping her face, the two of them just one heartbeat away from kissing.

#deltarune #deltarune fanfiction #fic: call signs #spamton addison #tabitha montgomery tanner #sylph writes

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blackforrestpunk · 4 months

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Hi friends. I'm currently editing the fan fiction parallel to the comic. I'm currently trying to concentrate on the english language. It annoys the hell out of me. My school english is terribly rusty, and as a teenager I didn't gave a shit about grammar. And to procrastinate a bit and to give a sign of life from me again, I'm going to babble a bit here. !!!!! Attention spoiler!!!!!! I'm reviewing almost the entire Fanfic here. But I've been asked a few times. You still have the option to cancel here. :-) Okay so, the main diagnoses are AuDHD, PTSD, Social Anxiety and Depression (which occasionally triggers an eating disorder)

However, I have to say explicitly about the eating disorder that it is linked to his feelings and also has a certain AuDHD component. Sometimes it happens that you simply forget to eat because other things seem more important to your brain. And sometimes you're so stressed or depressed that you can't eat. He would really like to, because he actually likes to eat. If it's food that he can eat. Taste and consistency are sometimes not so easy to manage here. That's why Nadir always gets the same dishes from the same snack bar. Per se, Erik doesn't know exactly what he has. As mentioned in the fanfic, he is often told his diagnosis. But he keeps forgetting because he doesn't really care. All he knows is that he doesn't fit in.

In the comic, for example, it also becomes clear that he sometimes has problems being touched and sometimes not. This is also due to the experiences he had as a child. His first caregiver often rejected him. So he finds it difficult to accept Valerie's friendly nature at first. By contrast, he has almost completely blocked out his stepfather. As a result, he follows Gustave without saying a word, but also allows himself to be touched because he unconsciously allows himself to be subjugated.

Erik and Raoul have a strange relationship. First Erik keeps forgetting Raoul's name because it's not important enough, then they tease each other and Erik doesn't really get it. He has no idea what this rivalry is all about, he just reacts to it. Then they beat each other up and make up. He doesn't like him, but that's more because Raoul is a kind of interference field. The connection between Erik and Christine is broken every time Raoul appears on the radar. However, Erik can't categorize this either and only reacts to it. Erik's specialty is music. He is particularly fond of stringed instruments. This is not just a hyper-fixation, it is his absolute specialty. He communicates through music. Music is his language for expressing emotions. Here in particular, I tried to link the emotions via the music lyrics or in the Spotify playlist. Sometimes it's very obvious, like in Chapter 13 - where he covers Everlong by the Foo Fighters. Then it's more subtle, when he just plays and the sounds adapt to his mood. In chapter 15, he talks to Christine about Raoul and how long he's staying away, where he strikes a low chord. He tries to ask it casually, but the situation actually worries him.

Erik's talent for languages and the pronunciation thing. Erik learns languages out of sheer boredom. He started with Farsi because he's a nosy little fucker whom Nadir likes to eavesdrop on. He only learned Swedish to impress Christine. He googled her surname. He had learned Italian for Jago, though Jago came from a Spanish family. Well, with ADHD you tend to mix up languages... Erik's pronunciation is usually very clear. He tries to speak clearly and loudly, due in part as a result of the mask. Also with the fact that music is his real language. As a teenager, he went to a speech therapist for years to overcome his stuttering and lisp. He is missing a tooth, which leaves plenty of room for slurred sibilant sounds. But he has learned to compensate it. If he is not emotionally balanced, the old habits still come out.

Erik is left-handed. I couldn't find anything in the books (Leroux and Kay), or I missed it. Well, my Erik is left-handed. Originally, at the very beginning of this story, his hands were supposed to be a testament to the abuse as well. Fingernails were missing, they were taped, and a fingertip was missing. This symbol became Erik's left-handedness, a short little finger and his skinpicking-coping mechanism (which I purposely didn't discuss in detail so as not to trigger myself :'D Fun fact: There were phases in my life when my hands looked like his...). However, he is "both" handed. He learned to use many instruments like a right-handed, because of the little finger problem. Kurt Cobain was left-handed, he has the guitar on the other side, for example. But not Erik. But his handwriting, as in the original, is just awful. He simply didn't learn it properly and was confused in elementary school about which hand to use.

My Erik is bisexual. But how can that be if he's never had a relationship apart from Christine nodnodnod Well, he's not making a big deal out of it. But he had a crush on a young punk from his "clique" in his teens. No, not Azzi and not Jago. Of course, nothing came of it because he was even more socially maladjusted back then, than in Christine's day. Nevertheless, he feels attracted to both sexes.

Erik and friendships. Oh, boy, that's such a thing. At some point in therapy, the therapist nails him down to the fact that he is very much "capable of relationships" because he obviously has friends of several years' standing. Sometimes we forget that. That we are capable, even if there is perhaps one constant person left among all the arguments and conflicts. And maybe it's also the case that we say "Nope, I don't have any friends" out of self-protection, simply to make it easier to cope with a possible loss. The concept of friendship is a mystery to Erik. He doesn't understand that he and Jago have been friends for a long time. It's clear to Jago, and to Nadir as well. In the late chapters, Jago also makes an appearance. The reason that Erik doesn't reject him is that Jago accepts the boy directly for who he is. He lets him be who he is. He doesn't force him. Through the subculture - punk - he gives him a place outside his room where he is accepted.

Speaking of Nadir. Why is a trained care worker sometimes so incredibly stupid, with Erik? Because he's only human. Nadir loves Erik as if he were his son. But at the same time, he sees the bias, the difficulty of communication and the constant lack of connection. This frustrates him. It disappoints him. He feels almost constantly helpless. But he has chosen Erik. This decision binds him for life. Nadir knows exactly what motivates Erik. But he always wants to challenge him. To take him one step further. To show him some normality - which begs the question, what is normal? He wants to show him what's going on in society. To prepare him step by step. Sometimes in a clumsy way. But he doesn't mean any harm. And Erik knows that too.

Erik and his mother. Oh boy, I'm still gnawing on that a bit, my brain is still spinning little stories about both of them. I didn't let her take up so much space on purpose, but I still wrote an entire chapter to her. His mother was damn young when this contraceptive accident with Charles (Erik's father) happened. One thing leads to another, Charles dies, she is alone. She comes from a dysfunctional family herself. She grieves during the pregnancy and after the birth. She loves her son. Don't get me wrong. She really loved him. But it still wasn't enough. What she did wasn't right. It wasn't enough. She didn't respond to his needs or his desire for attachment and security. She locked him away and didn't validate his emotions (which he couldn't categorize either). Because she couldn't. Because she was so busy with herself and her small, sad world. This insecure-ambivalent attachment still triggers massive problems and anxiety in Erik today. And sometimes her hand slipped. Due to excessive demands. Which is still no excuse. Never.

Erik and his stepfather. Ahhhh I'd like to leave that out. I was thinking about creating a kind of comeback. How the stepfather starts stalking Erik after his release and kidnaps Reza and crazy shit like that. But nope. That's too much for me. His stepfather was a violent asshole. An alcoholic and a narcissist. Unemployed. He often beat Erik up when he had a meltdown, or didn't do his homework, or had to go home early from school, or just because he breathed too loudly. His stepfather gave him the missing little finger, the burn scars, the missing nose and the silver stripes on his back. I dislike this person so much that he has neither a name nor a face. And it stays that way.

Erik, the night owl. At the beginning of the story, you keep reading that he sleeps a lot, that he goes to bed early and that he can get up early (to buy Christine's present). He's just pretending. He can indeed sleep anywhere. Whether on the couch, a mattress or the floor. But he doesn't sleep for long. In bad phases, he hardly sleeps at all. In good phases, he sometimes manages 3 hours at a time. He may appear calm on the outside, but on the inside he is restless and under constant pressure. Disordered thoughts, the urge to create and the fear of nightmares keeps him awake. And yes, the nightmare I described is the tip of the iceberg. Erik dreams a lot and is always restless. He only experiences a state similar to sleep paralysis during bad triggers or depressive phases.

Finally: Sasha. Sasha is a Shepard-Spaniel mix. She is not a therapy dog. But she is Erik's anchor. She is smart, eager to learn and affectionate. There was also a Sasha in Kay's book. Erik learned to walk with the dog there and was able to experience affection through her. Sasha, in my story, keeps Erik in this world. She is his constant. His connection to the outside world. She supports him when he's not feeling well. She is always by his side. He even takes her with him to the hospital. He smuggles her everywhere he goes. Even if it sometimes seems as if Erik is annoyed by her when she jumps up at Christine or doesn't want to get on the streetcar or goes crazy with big dogs. He loves her to death. He would do anything for her.

Thanks for reading. :-D The text was longer than expected... Any questions?

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ladyimaginarium · 1 month

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okay so. ive been thinking about this for a hot minute & i was inspired by what chelazon leroux ( which incase yall dont know who he is, he was on canada's drag race season 3 & he's an indigenous drag queen ) said on tiktok. & like i& rarely go on tiktok these days but something he said got my attention & was basically repeating what ive been thinking for the last few months or so &. that's the topic of like. making fun of outsiders who genuinely want to try & be respectful of our communities & have their heart in the right place & now in my case im thinking of making fun of reconnecting natives on just. not getting things right. & that really bothers me. & like obviously it's important to be informed & to guide others in the right direction. there are reconnecting natives who're earlier in their journeys & there are more advanced reconnecting natives who've been reconnecting for quite a while now & in my& case it's been 5 years now, half a decade. idk about you but for me at least i always compare it to a baby learning to walk for the first time. i wouldn't criticize a child for falling when they're still learning to walk for the first time. like, obviously we're all adults & we need to be aware & listen to connected natives but like when someone's coming to understand something about their culture, do you expect them to be an expert on the first day lmao. or the first year or maybe even the first few years even? like. no? lmao. like.

ik in my case i'm STILL learning bc a lot of things about my nations in particular are lost due to genocide, colonization & forced assimilation of so many families, my own included. & like. even in my case i didn't know everything at once, it all came in small little pieces throughout my lifetime. i often had to find my own resources on the internet & actually reach out to several groups bc i'm non-status ( & i'm going to try to get enrolled but we'll see how that goes ) but it's hurtful to be criticized for not knowing something. it's weird. like. how can you expect someone to understand something when they're still figuring things out. idk. i just think it's interesting bc like. we have more & more reconnecting natives popping up & learning about their cultures & that so important bc most (in my case) canadianborn (& ik this applies to other places like america) citizens show half as much if ANY interest in our peoples, history & cultures unless we're dead (literally look at how people reacted to the r/esidential schools, the last one closed in 1996 y'all, thats literally four years before i was born) or symbols of the past let alone engages with us & some ppl's first reaction is to. criticize them for not getting things right? bc we've been fighting for awareness & recognition for so long & to have an understanding & to finally bridge gaps between our communities, indigenous or otherwise, when it seems like it's finally happening, whether it's from reconnecting natives who genuinely want to reconnect (& no, i'm not referring to reconnecting natives who solely reconnect for social media points in indigicourse & act like they know everything about native cultures when they literally Just started reconnecting & act like an indigenous activist the next day & take 0 interest in ACTUALLY learning anything about their culture, language & community let alone fighting for it, believe me, i've dealt w/ someone who did this, or taking advantage of their communities or pretendians aka ppl who literally pretend to be native for clout or money, im not talking about any of that) or just. nonnative outsiders who genuinely want to understand, our first reaction is to criticize them & not even tell them why? like. why are we as native people criticizing reconnecting natives when they're literally still learning about their own native cultures. of COURSE they're gonna fuck up. of COURSE they're gonna make mistakes. of COURSE they're not gonna be perfect. hell, I'M not perfect in this & even when i do my own research & do my best to talk to elders & do every single thing i'm asked to do & i do my very best to do things right, i'm still gonna make mistakes. im not an authority figure or anything & i dont claim to be.

no one's flawless in learning something. &. like ik others have talked about this too but i find a lot of the online native community are like. very gatekeepy & hypercritical about this shit & it looks critical & i dont understand why & i don't think it's right ESPECIALLY bc so many of us were forcibly removed from our cultures and communities. like. can you imagine how hurtful that is for people who're still learning about themselves because they're not doing [x] right or they're somehow not native enough bc they don't look traditionally native or not fighting hard enough for someone's standards. that's like. a slap in the face. & if we're gonna talk about bridging gaps between communities of course it's gonna be messy. ofc it's gonna come w/ misunderstandings. luckily i dont see this v often on the hellsite but its RAMPANT in twitter & tiktok. like. idk. sometimes i think we need to chill tf out lmao.

#arcana.vents #native.txt #dont rb btw im just. venting & thinking #this was in my drafts for a lil bit #im basically saying a lot of what leroux already said so its nothing rly new but its v important to like. yknow. be considerate

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thephantomessoftheopera · 3 years

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Notes on Gaston Leroux‘s „The Phantom of the Opera“ - Epilogue

<< Previous chapter “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known”

-Charles Dickens, “A Tale of Two Cities”

As we are coming to the end of the story, Leroux ties up a few more loose ends in the epilogue.

As for Raoul and Christine, their possible happy ending is only implied by what Erik told the Persian - that they had “taken a northbound train” and were planning to get married in secret. They have disappeared from the world, and Christine never appeared again on stage anywhere. According to Leroux, they might have finally settled in Norway together with Mama Valerius. At first, I thought Leroux might have been confusing Sweden and Norway, but when I did a little research on the name „Daae“, it turns out that the name is actually most prevalent in Norway, with almost no occurrences in Sweden. It is also implied that even if they took that “northbound” train before, Christine took a train back to Paris a few weeks later to return to Erik, because she had the wedding ring on her when she left, and it was finally found on Erik‘s finger.

As Philippe‘s death was deemed to be the consequence of the fight between the two brothers over Raoul’s supposed engagement to Christine, Raoul was a murder suspect - but as his previous testimony had already made him appear a lunatic in the eyes of the Commissary, Philippe‘s death was ultimately pronounced accidental. However, as Parisian society had taken less than kindly to the news of the engagement, I think that the couple would have had a very difficult standing if they had officially married and assumed the now vacant titles of the Count and Countess de Chagny. It is therefore likely that Raoul, having officially disappeared, never claimed his titles and inheritance, and chose the more simple lifestyle that Christine was accustomed to. Leroux concludes the story of Raoul and Christine with the statement that one day, he too might „hear the solitary echoes of the Northland repeat the singing of the woman who knew the Angel of Music''. In the epilogue, the boundaries between the „false“ and the „real“ Angel of Music become blurred, as Leroux repeatedly speaks of Erik as the “Angel of Music” - indicating that maybe, just maybe, Erik truly was the Angel of Music.

After following up on Raoul and Christine, Leroux relates how he obtained proof of Erik‘s existence from the Persian, mostly through the letters written by Christine that Erik had sent to him, but also through the testimonies of Meg Giry and La Sorelli. He supposedly placed all the proof he had gathered in the archives of the Paris Opera.

He also obtained the testimony of M. Poligny, the previous manager of the Opera. The „Opera Ghost“ affair was the final straw that made him resign his post, which again indicates that Erik‘s reign as „O.G.“ was rather short and caused by Erik falling in love (since he had been living in the Opera House presumably since the early 1870s). He also quotes from the fictional „Memoirs of a Manager“ by Armand Moncharmin, where Moncharmin relates that a few days after Christine‘s abduction, Erik returned all of the forty thousand francs he had extracted to the managers, no longer having any need for the money as he had given up his plan to marry Christine. The mystery of the safety-pin is also finally resolved, as Leroux was supposedly able to locate a small trapdoor in the floor of the managers’ office, through which a dexterous magician like Erik could easily have reached up and retrieved the envelope from Richard‘s coattail pocket as it was hanging down from his chair.

Leroux also notes that the marble pillar next to Box 5 sounds hollow and would offer ample space for Erik to hide inside it. According to Gérard Fontaine’s research, the pillars being hollow applies to all the pillars in the auditorium of the Palais Garnier. Whether that proves or disproves anything is up to you... Leroux’s plan of having the lake drained in order to obtain the ultimate proof of Erik‘s existence - finding the entrance to the house by the lake - did not go through, but Leroux still sustains his hope of one day finding the score of „Don Juan Triumphant“ there (that is, if Christine had not taken it with her when she came to bury him).

Leroux then gives a summary of Erik’s life according to the Persian. Erik was born near Rouen in France and ran away from his parents as a young boy, as they were afraid and horrified by how he looked. After being exhibited as a “living corpse” at fairs, he became a singing sensation and garnered a reputation that reached as far as Persia. The daroga of Mazenderan was sent to bring Erik to Persia as entertainment for the “little sultana”. Erik, who also worked there as an assassin, is described here as amoral, “not knowing the difference between right and wrong”. Even though he does not have an evil heart, his life up until this point has left him completely without a moral compass of any kind.

After building an ingenious palace for the shah, Erik’s execution was ordered so that he could not divulge its secrets to anyone. The daroga was supposed to carry it out, but as he owed Erik favours (and was the one who brough Erik to Persia in the first place), he helped him escape instead. He was punished for this and went into exile to Paris. Erik took a detour to Asia Minor and Constantinople before he ended up in Paris as well. It is also mentioned that Erik could make lifelike automata, which is reflected in the musical in the form of the monkey music box and also the “mirror bride”, a physical representation of Erik’s dream of a loving wife.

Once in Paris, Erik decided that he finally wanted to live a normal life, and placed a successful bid to work as a contractor on the Opera House. Wishing to hide his face from the world forever, he built his comfortable home into the foundations of the Opera. Erik’s plan to live out the rest of his life in peaceful tranquillity went well - until he crossed paths with Christine Daae and lost his heart to her completely. And the rest is history…

Leroux here gives his own view of Erik: “He had a heart great enough to hold the empire of the world, and in the end he had to be content with a cellar.” With a normal face, Erik, with his brilliant mind and extraordinary talents, could have had the world at his feet. And even though no one had ever loved him, he still had a heart capable of feeling deep, pure love, which is pretty remarkable. His beautiful voice is a reflection of the beauty he carries inside his soul - which was sadly eclipsed by his ugliness, which did not allow him to live “like everyone else”. The great tragedy of his life was his face, which kept others from treating him as a human being and recognizing his full potential. He is therefore clearly worthy of pity, instead of being cursed and condemned as evil.

Leroux had already mentioned in the Prologue that he believed the skeleton found in the cellars of the Opera was Erik’s. Now he finally reveals why he was so certain of that: because Erik’s skeleton wore the gold wedding ring on his finger, which Leroux believes Christine had placed there. Even though Erik had set her free and given her the ring, she later came back to him, and this time it was certainly not out of terror. With Erik dead, none of his threats would hold any more sway over her - and yet, she still returned to him to keep her promise. She not only buried him with the wedding ring, but she slipped it onto his finger, ultimately fulfilling her promise to accept him as her husband. In a sense, she buried him with her love, and that is truly a bittersweet and beautiful ending. After everything he had to endure, Erik’s life ends with a kiss and a ring on his finger, put there by the woman he loved more than his own life, and with Leroux praying for his salvation. That may not be a traditional happy ending, but it‘s very powerful. And it’s definitely not a villain’s ending.

As „Faust“ is the most strongly referenced work in „Phantom“, it is also worth comparing how the endings are different. In the final act of Gounod‘s opera, Faust and Marguerite first swear their love to each other, but when Marguerite sees Mephistopheles and realizes who Faust really is, she turns away from him and chooses death instead, while Faust is dragged into the fires of hell. Her famous last words to him are „You horrify me!“ In „Phantom“, the progression is almost the other way round - Christine is horrified at first, but then accepts Erik and chooses life instead of death.

It should also be noted that the ending in the novel is so vague that it also allows a lot of room for the reader’s imagination. Was Erik really dead when Christine returned? He himself was announcing his death, so it would not even be so very unlikely. But as this is Leroux’s story, the official reading would of course be how he himself imagined the ending: Erik dying and Christine coming back to bury him. This might be my favourite line from the novel:

“The skeleton lay near the little fountain, where the Angel of Music first held the unconscious Christine Daae in his trembling arms after taking her into the cellars of the Opera.”

As if the return of the ring was not enough poetic closure, he also asked to be buried in the very spot where he held the love of his life for the first time...

Symbolism and Metaphors

Now that we have concluded the epilogue, I would like to add a few more notes on the general themes which are present throughout the novel and still influence how we feel about it today.

To understand the extent of symbolism employed in „The Phantom of the Opera“, it is necessary to understand the cultural mindset and environment in which it was written. At the turn of the century, the arts (and sciences, as evidenced by the slowly emerging works of Sigmund Freud) were rather obsessed with the fateful connection between Eros and Thanatos - love as the life-bringing force, and death as the destructive force. Both were often seen as intertwined and mirrored in the other.

Erik is the personification of Eros and Thanatos. He unites both forces in him to a degree unparalleled by any other character in the story. The death symbolism that is also clearly reflected in how he is described, would be both perceived as horrifying - and yet not without a strangely seductive fascination inherent in it. Death is intricately tied to darker feelings of passion and desire.The “Eros” and the “Thanatos” part of his character are intertwined, but his character also oscillates between the two sides in the course of the story.

Music in „Phantom“ also serves as a metaphor for romantic love, not only in the spiritual but also in the physical sense, as it is connotated with “passion”, “fire”, “ecstasy” and “rapture” throughout the story. Erik’s teaching awakens “an ardent, voracious and sublime life” in Christine, symbolizing the burgeoning romantic feelings in the young woman. She is terrified with the changes going on in her, which is also in line with how „Eros“ was originally viewed: as a frightening loss of control. Erik says in “Apollo’s Lyre” that “some music is so formidable that it consumes everyone who approaches it”, and Christine states that “Music has the power to abolish everything in the outside world except its sounds, which go straight to the heart”. In both sentences, the word “music” can easily be replaced with “love” - especially in Christine’s example, it would be the musical equivalent of “love is blind”.

Like in other (gothic) romances - “Wuthering Heights” being perhaps the prime example - the two rivals in the principal love triangle represent two very different types of love: one is intense and passionate, but also consuming, terrifying and potentially destructive, and the other is safer, but also somewhat chaste and lifeless. Erik and Raoul each represent one of the two extremes. This contrast is exemplified in the scene at the Masked Ball: Raoul wears white, the colour of innocence, while Erik wears red, the colour of passion, but also of danger and blood.

It is suggested in the novel that Erik and Christine were chained together by fate (“La destinée m’enchaîne à toi sans retour”), and I believe they were destined to save each other. Erik saved Christine from her grief in the wake of her father’s death and brought her back to life, and Christine saved his soul by being the first person in his life to accept him and grant him true happiness. „Phantom“ may be a tragic love story, but it is also a hopeful one, as love proves stronger than death. Christine’s choice, Erik‘s sacrifice and the skeleton’s wedding ring are all symbols of love triumphing over death.

#phantom of the opera #lerouxreadingguide #leroux phantom #gaston leroux #leroux erik #christine daae #erik x christine #le fantôme de l'opéra #the phantom of the opera #erik the phantom #raoul de chagny #opera ghost #classic literature #gothic romance

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nvvermore · 3 years

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I Get Found to Get Lost

Vesper learns part of the truth, and withholds parts of his own [Part of Songbird vs Rattlesnake]

words: 1.3k

cw: references to child abuse/neglect

accompaniment

—

Vesper swings open the door— a little too hard— to the quirky little magic shop. Pandora’s Box.

He’d been directed to the obscure place by some locals, who knew exactly where to send him when he asked where to find Amaryllis Leroux. Or maybe it wasn’t so obscure a place around here, but compared to what he’d seen in Zadith it was a little… lacking. Cozy is probably a nicer descriptor.

He pokes around, waiting for Asra Alnazar— the apparent owner of the shop— eyes scanning over the shelves and displays of all the various magical necessities. It’s not very long until a mop of white curls pops out from behind a curtain that divides the room. He assumes this is the magician he’s looking for.

“Welcome,” Asra greets him with a warm smile. “Is there anything in particular that brings you in today?” Vesper studies him for a moment; his relaxed posture, his messy hair and rumbled clothing. Nonchalant as ever, he takes a step forward and props his elbows on the glass counter.

“Yea, actually. I’m here to discuss your apprentice.”

Vesper catches some vague emotion flash across Asra’s face for a split-second before he’s smiling again. “If you’re looking for Amaryllis, they aren’t here right now.”

“Oh, I already found them. Didn’t go well, so I’m here to see you.” Vesper jabs a finger in the other magician’s direction. “You see, I happen to be Amaryllis’s older brother. I know it’s been a few years, but you think they’d have some level of recognition. So I was quite surprised when I ran into them and received absolutely none.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t tell you why they wouldn’t recognize you.” Asra shrugs with his arms folded in front of him. He leans back against the wall, looking down on Vesper.

Vesper stands up straight. “Ah, but I think you can tell me. I’ve heard murmurs of some sort of ‘incident’ they were involved in, why don’t you start with that?”

“How am I even supposed to believe you’re who you say you are? I don’t think Amaryllis is any of your business.”

Vesper pulls out a photo then, and slides it across the glass countertop to Asra. He’d expected such suspicion, after hearing all about the magician and the apprentice he was so overprotective of. So, he made sure to come with proof. Asra takes it with a frown, glare full of suspicion.

The photo was a family portrait. Taken when Amaryllis was sixteen and Vesper was nineteen, and the two were almost unrecognizable. The vicomte and vicomtesse stood on each side, and in front of each of them stood Verdell and Lottie. Dressed in fine silk skirts and standing front and center as the eldest child, Vesper certainly didn’t recognize the woman with his eyes and hollow smile staring back at him.

Amaryllis was posed in front of him— as he stood on a stool to mitigate the height difference— standing out from the rest of the bunch. Their eyes cast to the ground, lips drawn into a frow. They looked uncomfortable, their posture stiff and straight as a board. When this was taken, their discomfort was amusing, he had thought they deserved to feel that way. Now, all he felt was sick shame.

Vesper watches as Asra eyes the photo, expression softening as he runs his thumb over the image of Amaryllis. He then looks Vesper up and down a few times, but he seems to understand quick enough.

But he hasn’t dropped his guard yet. “Then, why has it taken you so long to come looking for them? I don’t know much, but I’m sure wherever you come from isn’t that far away.”

“You’re right, Chevaisé is only a few hours out from Vesuvia by carriage.” When Vesper speaks the name of his— and Amaryllis’s— hometown, Asra’s eyes widen. “And I didn’t come looking for them, I thought they might be dead. I was only planning on passing through Vesuvia, I came across them purely by chance.”

Asra is back to frowning, and Vesper starts to think he’s just bound to offend him. “Well, I still don’t know what to tell you if they turned you away. It’s not like I make decisions for them.”

“Really? Cause that’s not what I heard,” Vesper baits, and to his amusement Asra takes it. His posture stiffens and drops his arms to his sides, hands curled into fists.

“I think you should leave,” he states firmly, but calmly.

“I think you should tell me what happened to them.”

“What’s going on here?” Vesper spins around at the sounding of a new voice, too caught up in the tension between he and Asra to have noticed the shop door opening and closing. Amaryllis stands there, a girl peeking out from behind them, both with arms full of bags from the market. When their eyes land on Vesper, they look sorely unimpressed. “Oh, it’s you.”

“You don’t seem too surprised.” Amaryllis makes their way into the shop properly, setting the bags down on the counter and sliping behind it. The girl follows suit, and proceeds to unpack the bags.

“I expected you to keep harassing me—“

“I’m not harassing you—“

“What is this?” Amaryllis’s fingers dance over the photo in Asra’s hand, and they grab it just before Asra can pull it away.

“Amie,” he warns, but Amaryllis brushes him off with a wave of their hand.

They only seem to glance at the photo for a second before suddenly, they’re holding their head and sinking to the ground.

“Damn it,” Asra whispers, kneeling down to support Amaryllis. The girl stops what she’s doing and rushes over too, and together she and Asra get Amaryllis back on their feet. It’s like they’ve done this before, movements urgent but not panicked.

“I’m fine, it’s not that bad.” Amaryllis standing, but still holding their head in their hands.

“I’ve got them Asra,” the girl says, leading Amaryllis towards the stairs.

“Thanks, Lie, I’ll be up in a minute.” With a sigh, Asra turns back to Vesper. “Fine, I’ll explain.”

“Yea, you better. What the hell was that?”

Asra runs his hands through his hair, then takes a deep breath. “Amaryllis and I have been friends for years now. Together, we were apprentices of the magician who previously owned this shop.” He pauses. “Around a year ago, there was an accident. They can’t remember anything from before then, and get headaches that vary in pain and intensity when they get reminders of the past. I’ve tried everything, and nothing has been able to make them remember.”

Vesper feels a mixture of grief and sick satisfaction at the news. “So they really meant it, when they said they didn’t know me, huh? That’s… disheartening.”

“Isn’t it?” Asra is misty eyed when Vesper glances back up at him.

“They don’t remember you either?”

The pained look Asra gives him is all the answer he needs.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find my way here sooner.” And he is sorry. He’s been so sorry for years, and now what is he supposed to apologize for? If Amaryllis doesn’t remember, what good would it do anyone to bring up something that… just doesn’t need to exist anymore?

And perhaps it could stay that way. Forgotten. Along with every other misfortune they were forced to endure growing up. All the things Vesper wishes he had known to protect them from, instead of being jealous it didn’t look like it was happening to them too.

For a few minutes, neither of them have anything to say. And Vesper doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say, so instead of trying he turns to leave.

“Wait,” Asra calls out. “I’d like to invite you back tomorrow. But,” he levels Vesper with a very serious look, “I need you to tell me the truth too. Why would they run away from their entire family?”

“I can’t tell you why, because I don’t know. The details aren’t mine to tell, but our parents were bad people. Amaryllis was right to run while they still could.” Asra nods, slowly taking in what he’s said.

“Is there anything else that’s important for me to know?”

He could come clean here. He should.

“No.”

He doesn’t.

#my head is just #*john mulaney voice* u know like a LIAR #vesper tristesse #amaryllis leroux #asra alnazar #and even #ophélie rozaliya #tada #vesper fic #amie fic #my fic

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alexeiadrae · 4 years

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Thoughts on Evil

I finished watching Evil. For reference, I am an atheist and was raised in a secular household and I am a skeptic who loves folklore and scary stories and who also loves debunking paranormal claims. My husband is Catholic and believes in demonic possession and the end of days stuff, and somehow we work, just like Kristen and David somehow work. I am also a counselor so I am familiar with the mental health aspects that Kristen deals with, and since she was the skeptic and the atheist related to her on those levels, as well as balancing motherhood with a professional career even though I have a private practice and do not testify in court, and my husband is not an adventurer in any sense of the word and has been in the trenches with me for years.

That said, I wasn’t sure if I would finish it. One thing I have noticed about atheists who were raised in secular homes is that we tend to not find the demonic possession end of day stuff scary, and if anything we find it overacted to the point of ludicrousness if it isn’t boring as hell (can’t speak for all of us, but the overwhelming majority that I have talked to about it feel that way). My parents were both raised Methodist and found The Exorcist scary even though they had been atheists for years, so I think if you are raised Christian it is still scary even if you leave the faith, but if you are never raised to believe in it then it’s silly. Both my sister and I found it silly, even though other people our age who were Christian thought it was terrifying. And it extends to other movies and shows that feature demon possession and end of day stuff. While I love horror, it’s not a subset of horror that works for me.

So I don’t know if people raised in other belief systems like Islam or Buddhism find it scary (but would be interested in finding out!), but lifelong atheists tend not to. So for those reasons I wasn’t sure if I would finish it, and for the first few episodes I still wasn’t sure because, bluntly, the demon possession stuff just has me rolling my eyes with how over the top it is if I wasn’t laughing at how preposterous it was. So those elements definitely dragged it down for me. Yet there were elements that I really appreciated, and it did have one episode that terrified and disturbed me. So I finished it. Do I want to watch the second season? Not sure. Spoilery thoughts below.

-I did appreciate how at the beginning it illustrated how someone like Kristen would have a massive amounts of student loan debt and would be working her ass off to pay it. They sort of drifted from this. But at the beginning there was the sense of how it is hard juggling career and kids and paying the bills.

-While I did like some of the psychological aspects, there was some stuff that fell victim to me knowing the ins and outs of Kristen’s profession. Most counselors and psychologists, or the good ones at least, do see a therapist of their own to work on their own issues, get what they need to off their chest and ensure that they are in a good emotional state to practice, so I am glad that they showed Kristen going to therapy and working on her issues. That said, if someone stole a therapist’s client files, that would be a BFD, for both the practitioner and the thief. A practitioner could lose their license if they were shown to be negligent in handling the files. They could have also filed a lawsuit against Leland for stealing the files. And if I was a practitioner, I would want to know how the files were stolen.

-Which is one of the weak points of the show. Why did Kristen feel like she had to take on Leland and LeRoux on her own? She hardly exhausted her options. She didn’t even tell her mother that Leland had threatened to kill her daughters, much less document the threat and work to get a restraining order against him (yes, I know, those don’t always work well but they give her a legal recourse). Ditto with LeRoux. One of my specialties is domestic violence and harassment so I am very familiar with the steps you would take to document all of that and get help before abandoning the idea, but Kristen didn’t try any of those. And while domestic violence and the like doesn’t appear to be her specialty it pops up frequently enough that it would be alarming if she didn’t know that. It took away a bit from me. Also, if someone had threatened my children, I would tell my children. Yes, I get you wouldn’t want your kids to be anxious, but in a case like that they would need to know. I would tell my husband. I would tell the police. In fact, as a mandatory reporter, Kristen would be legally obligated to call the police if someone made threats on someone else’s life, especially a child’s life. It blew my mind that she just kept it to herself. Especially as Leland did it in a public courthouse surrounded by people. I would find someone to corroborate.

Now a problem in these cases is someone making threats to harm or kill someone, being reported, and then denying it to the police and leaving them unable to do much. They could have written that in, but they didn’t, and it did not reflect well on Kristen IMO.

-Another counselor nitpick, a good counselor/psychologist would not start out by challenging a client’s beliefs but take time exploring them and mapping out how they think. This is two fold, helping the client to trust the counselor and feel validated by them while it helps the psychologist understand how they see the world and build a map of their thoughts process and belief system and give them clues to how to utilize it to help them get better. Basically if someone came into my office and said they were possessed by a demon I would go with it even though I don’t believe them because understanding how they think is more important than challenging everything right off the bat.

-There were a few episodes that were very effective. The Halloween episode with the masked girl was chilling. The episode that really did it for me was when David was in the hospital and subjected to the whims of a sadistic, racist nurse. And what is interesting is what made is so chilling is that none of it was supernatural. But that thought of being held captive, drugged to the point of being unable to advocate for yourself and ask for help and at the mercy of someone who wants to hurt you was terrifying (and not to mention hard to watch). I also have a history of sleep paralysis, and the thing that would terrify me most when I was paralyzed was the thought that someone was in the room or outside my home wanting to hurt me and I couldn’t defend myself or even call 911. So David being medically paralyzed captured that feeling. I also hate IVs, absolutely hate them and have this fear that they will tear my veins out, so there were several scenes I could not watch. Finally, this happens. There have been nurses who have tormented and killed patients and they got away with it for years because they were able to cover it up. And my husband, who is mixed Pacific Islander, Asian and European but appears a racially ambiguous brown, is nervous about hospitals for that same reasons and because of mistreatment his father received when he was treated for lung cancer (they broke a mercury thermometer in his lungs) that likely contributed to his death. So that episode chilled me to the core for a number of reasons.

-That said, Kristen’s sleep paralysis stuff was not an accurate depiction of how it works at all. You can’t even talk when you have sleep paralysis. I was usually laughing at the scenes with George. George. I mean, how the fuck can you take a demon named George seriously? I laughed my head off when he said his name was George and wondered if I was suddenly watching a comedy. If I had sleep paralysis and a demon came in and said his name was George I would laugh myself out of it.

-The episode with the boy who tried to drown his baby sister in the pool brought back memories of working in a children’s mental hospital. I saw something similar with a kid who was even younger. And that kid suffered abuse so horrific that it gave me and one of the other therapists working with them nightmares, and with the knowledge that we don’t have good treatment options for someone who exhibits the symptoms that kid did it was a horrible case. If I wake up one morning and see on the news that they were arrested for a string of murders or killing their kids I will not be surprised. You don’t need possession to explain this stuff. The truth, that someone would be so sadistically abusive to their own child, and that despite all of the red flags that this child’s parents were allowed to raise and abuse them for as long as they did and to the extent that they did, is far more terrifying. I guess that’s another reason I don’t like the demonic possession stuff. It gives abusers a way out.

-So there were things I liked about it, and there were things I hated about it. I think I’ll see what the plot synopsis and reviews of the second season are like before committing.

#evil #cbs evil #netflix evil #kristen bouchard #david acosta #a counselor watches evil

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writings-of-the-unkown · 5 years

Text

Transfers Suck, But When I’m With You, Distance Doesn’t Matter

request status: yes

pairing: Alex Morgan x Reader

Y/N- your name

Y/L- your last name

Italics are inner thoughts

Bold are text messages

Warning: gay, lots of ANGST (sorry not sorry :|)

Words: 1817

A/N: THIS IS FICTION ALL MISTAKES ARE MINE

“Listen, you’re either gonna hate or you’ll love me” my agent said as soon as I picked up my phone.

“What do you need Brad? It’s 4a.m. here and I don’t have time for this” I said with sleep filled voice.

“You’re being loaned out. It’s still up in the air but it’s looking like you’re headed to Arsenal” Brad sounded cheerful about this.

My brain didn’t fully register what he had told me because I was half asleep. I felt my girlfriend rolling in to me. I fell back asleep in her arms.

My alarm went off about three hours later. I fought my way out of Alex’s death grip and got ready for the day. I checked my phone and saw a text from Brad.

It’s official! Pack your bags, you’re headed of Arsenal!!

Oh shit. That’s when the events from this morning came back to me. I was being loaned and it might end up being permanent. How the hell was I going to tell Alex?

Even though we have been dating for over a year, she still freaks out when one of us is up for a trade or transfer. The one time that sticks out in my mind is when Orlando was first becoming a team. She was chosen to head down there and immediately had a breakdown. She thought our relationship wouldn’t stand the distance as I was still in Portland.

I was making breakfast for both of us when Alex came up behind me. She wrapped her arms around my waist and laid her head on my shoulder.

“Morning sunshine, how did you sleep?” She punctuated with a quick peck on my check.

“Good, Alex honey I have something to tell you” I whispered the last part.

“What is it? Baby you’re scaring me” she pulled me around so that I was facing her.

“So here’s the thing. Brad called this morning and I—” I got cut off by the phone ringing.

She leaned over and picked it up.

“Hello...yes she is right here. Hold on one second” Alex said into the phone. She held it out to me, “it’s for you. Something about needing to stay after practice for something”

I grabbed it and held it between my shoulder and ear, that way I could continue to make breakfast for us.

“Yellow...yeah I can stay after…uh sure I’m working on telling them...okay.. yup see you there...uhuh…bye” I hung up.

I finished making Alex’s omelet and my scrambled eggs with cheese. She was sitting at our island on her phone.

I set her omelet down in front of her and brought her out of the trance her phone had placed her in with a kiss.

After breakfast, we went upstairs to get ready for practice. I threw on shorts and a tank top and braided my hair. Alex wore the same as me and had me braid her hair while putting it in a ponytail so she could use her pink prewrap as usual.

We arrived at practice and we met up with the team. We dropped our stuff on the sidelines and lined up with the rest of the team to start warmups. After we split up into groups by position. I was will Ali and our other defenders.

I was so occupied by my thoughts of the press conference that seemed like practice flew by. The coaching staff lead me to the conference room where the media was going to meet me.

I walked through the oak double doors scanned the room for any familiar face. Thankfully Brad was there impatiently waiting for me. I sat in the chair on the stage behind the microphone with my name on it.

The media began to ask all sorts of questions.

“What’s going on?”

“Are you retiring?”

“Is there a major health scare?”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. And Brad began to speak.

“Thank you all for coming. To be clear Y/N is not retiring or ill” he glance towards me and smiled. “I’ll let her tell you what’s going on”.

Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.

“I have been loaned out to Arsenal. I will be finishing up the season over seas” I said as confidently as I possibly could given that I hadn’t told Alex yet.

Brad pointed to a male reporter in the front left, to ask the first question.

“Is there trouble in paradise with fellow teammate, and your partner might I add, Alex Morgan?” Of course the pompous piece of ass would ask that.

“No there is not. Alex and I are going perfectly. I will give out no further details on that subject” I said very defensively.

I spotted Alex in the back corner by the doors. She just shook her head as she stormed out of the room.

“Alex wait! Alex!!” I ran after her.

I figured Brad could hold down the fort in there. The only thing I cared about was getting to Alex and explaining. When I finally found her, she was sitting in her practice gear and she managed to squeeze herself into a corner with her knees pulled up to her chest. She had tears streaming down her face.

I reached out to put my hand on her shoulder but she swatted me away.

“How could you not tell me? I thought we had something special, but obviously I was wrong” she whispered.

“Alex, honey, I was going to tell you. I found out this morning and that’s what the phone call was about. I didn’t know how to tell you” I was squatting in front of her.

She looked at me with hatred in her eyes. “If you can’t trust me with this then I don’t think we can be together anymore” she was looking at the floor.

“Wait are you serious?” I questioned. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Yes. I want your stuff out by Monday” she demanded.

She got to her feet and shuffled away. I was left standing there like an idiot, I didn’t realize that I started to cry until I tasted salt.

I started to walk back to Alex’s house. I was absorbed in my own thoughts that I hadn’t realized that I was being followed. I was at Alex’s when I turned around and saw Sydney Leroux. She got out of her car and made her way to me.

“I saw the news. I assume that you need a place to stay before you head over seas, Dom is cool with you staying for a few days” she offered.

“Thanks Syd, that means a lot. Seriously” I offered her a sad smile.

I let her in the house and we started to gather my things.

Hey just checking in on you. FYI your flight is tomorrow at 5 a.m. I read Brad’s text what felt like a million times.

I forwarded the text to Syd so that she wouldn’t be surprised. She sent back that she’d drive me to the airport.

We headed back to her house and Cassius met me at the door, followed by Dom.

“Thanks Dom, this means a lot” I said as wrapped my arms around him.

“Always. We’ve got your back” He whispered.

Cassius grabbed my hand and pulled me into their guest room. I laid down on the bed and Cassius jumped up on to me. We were laughing. I felt his breathing level out and I knew he was asleep. Soon after I joined him in sleep.

I woke to the sound of my phone buzzing out of control. That was my que to get up and ready to fly overseas. Dom was up and ready to drive me to the airport.

I breezed through security and was boarded fairly quickly. I fell asleep as soon as my butt hit the chair.

I was jolted awake by the plane hitting the tarmac.

I was greeted after I got off the plane, by none other than, Heather.

“Kid, welcome to the other side of the pond” she joked as she ruffled my hair.

“Thanks HAO. I needed that” she threw her arm around my shoulders.

We picked up my baggage from the baggage claim.

Somehow after a few weeks, I fell into some sort of routine. Wake up, eat breakfast, go to practice, go to lunch, practice again, head home, grab a granola bar eat it while I shower, think of Alex, cry myself to sleep, repeat.

One day at practice, I overheard HAO saying that the U.S. Women’s National Team was going to share our practice fields. My anxiety skyrocketed. What if I see Alex? I can’t see her again. I’m not ready…. my thoughts were going a million miles per hour. My breath was quicking, I started to zone out. Something smacked against my back.

“You okay, Kid?” Heather pulled me out of my trance.

“Yeah-yeah. I’m good” I said it slowly. Trying to not only convince her but also myself.

Practice went on until the National team showed up. Heather went to talk to some of the girls while I started to head back to the locker room. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking, until I ran straight into someone.

“Y/N, I-I-“ I looked right into Alex’s eyes.

“I’ll just get out of your way” I stammered.

I was about halfway down the hallway when Alex called out to me.

“Y/N, wait,” I was not going to turn around to face her, but I did stop walking. “Y/N, I made a mistake. I realized how much I rely on you,” She somehow was facing me. I kept my eyes on the floor. “You are the love of my life. I have seen what my life is like without you in it and I never want to experience that again” she lifted my head up so I was making eye contact. “Please, please, will you give me a second chance?” She finished.

“Al, I’ll think about it. Please, all I ask is that you give me a chance to think” I looked back to the floor as I made my way to the locker room.

My thoughts were on anything but giving Alex a second chance. I grabbed my longboard, when I heard the door slam shut.

“Y/N wait. Have you made a decision? I just need to know” Alex had tears filling her eyes.

“I need more time. Is your number still the same as it was a month ago?” she nodded. “Okay, I’ll text you later with my answer”.

I dropped my board and skated away. By the time I got back to my apartment, I had reached a conclusion. I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone. I scrolled through my contacts until I found Alex’s number.

I’m in❤️ .

#requested #fanfic #Alex Morgan #alex morgan x reader #USWNT #uswnt imagines

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iant0jones · 4 years

Note

Thank you for your reply about Dracula! I will definitely read it and let you know how it goes. Do you have any other recommendations for gothic literature? The only ones I've read so far are Frankenstein and Wuthering Heights 🖤

Please do! I would love to know your opinions.

Ooh I love Frankenstein. I think one day I’ll reread Wuthering Heights and appreciate it more than I did when I read it this summer, now that I know exactly what I’m getting myself into.

As for recommendations...I’m so sorry but I love this shit and I’m about to go nuts. So strap in

(in order of the year they were published)

The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allan Poe, published in 1839

Just a dope ass short story about a guy stuck inside his creepy house (relatable) and the gothic shit that goes down. I really love the Vincent Price film adaptation, so if you can get your hands on that, please do!

The Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allan Poe, published in 1842

This is both the best thing to read in quarantine and the worst thing to read in quarantine. If you’re the kind of person who wants to eat the rich for not having common sense or an ounce of empathy during this time, this is the catharsis you might need! If you’re sick of hearing about plagues and being stuck inside, totally understandable. Please feel free to move along

The String of Pearls by ? (possibly James Malcolm Rymer and/or Thomas Peckett Prest), published 1846-1847

This is the penny dreadful that inspired Sweeney Todd. It’s less of a gothic novel and more of an early horror story mixed in with some seriously dark humor. It’s not at all like the musical but it’s fun to see where the musical came from. Please don’t read it if you can’t handle reading about cannibalism. It’s not particularly gory but it’s dark as all hell. Again, haven’t read it in years but I really enjoyed it back then!

Carmilla by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, published 1872

The og lesbian vampire! Very good if you’re into reading queer gothic lit, and fairly short (if not exactly sweet)

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, originally published in 1890 (and then edited in 1891 because homophobia)

This is a great read for quarantine because when else does anyone have the time to listen to Oscar Wilde wax poetic about beautiful but unnecessary things (jk I love you so much Oscar)? Again, super necessary if you’re into queer gothic lit

The Adventure of the Copper Beeches by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, published in 1892

A lot of the Sherlock Holmes stories have gothic elements (The Hound of the Baskervilles being the most famous), but this is one of my personal favorites just because of how bizarre it is, and I think it often gets unfairly overlooked. A very quick read

The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux, published in 1909

Again, I haven’t read this since 8th grade, but I read it three times in that one year! I was obsessed with it. Leroux has a great sense of humor imo and it’s balanced really well with the gothic elements. Again, not really like the musical, but still a great time

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, published in 1959

So incredibly beautiful in its language. I had to read it for a class this past fall and it became an instant favorite. I haven’t seen the netflix series but I do know they have like. Next to nothing in common. Also has gay vibes

I hope this was helpful! These are just some of my favorites, and I’m probably forgetting a whole bunch. Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with 😘🖤 As you can see, I really can’t shut up about gothic literature and I’m happy to go on about it forever lol

#asks #anon #gothic #queer gothic #literature #🖤

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beautyinthemoonlight1124 · 5 years

Note

Do you think Ali and Ash will make the Olympic roster? ANd do you think the CONCACAF tournament is structured in a way that will make it hard for us to qualify? I’m a new USWNT fan, I became a fan before the WWC because I found woso fanfics (yours included) so I don’t know a lot about soccer but I’ve somehow become I diehard USWNT and NWSL follower

Hi there. Welcome to woso! That’s women’s soccer, just in case you don’t know that yet. lol. First of all, thank you for reading the story. I appreciate it very much. :)

Now to your soccer questions… I’ll take the easier of the two first. I think the CONCACAF tournament is as good as it’s gonna get anytime soon. CONCACAF is probably just as corrupt as the rest of the FIFA, etc. But, in general, I think it’s a fair tournament and the USWNT should have no problem qualifying for the Olympics. But you never know. I think it was before 2012 Olympics (or maybe 2011 World Cup??) when the USWNT lost to Mexico and almost didn’t qualify! So you just never know. But there’s absolutely no reason the team shouldn’t win the CONCACAF tournament. They’ll certainly at least come in 2nd place and still qualify.

Whether or not Ali and Ashlyn make the Olympic roster is a much more difficult question. I believe with all my heart that the team is better with them both on it. They’re excellent players who could both still start (in my opinion anyway), and even more importantly, they’re experienced veterans who know what it’s like to play and win on the biggest stages. They were also both part of the 2016 Olympic team (Ashlyn was one of the alternates and Ali made her first Olympic squad ever - she missed the 2012 squad because of her knee injury) and I think it’s important to bring many of those players back so they will give it everything they’ve got to erase the embarrassment of their worst finish ever in Rio. I’m hoping Ashlyn will get an official spot this time around because I believe she deserves it. I personally think she’s a better keeper than Alyssa but I know most people disagree. I watched Alyssa when she was with the Boston Breakers and she’s a great keeper, but she’s not nearly vocal or bossy enough back there. She never has been and I don’t think she ever will be. It’s just not in her DNA. Her timidity back there is why a lot of the miscommunications happen along the backline. It’s Alyssa’s job to tell them all exactly what to do. Anyway, I digress. Ashlyn should make the team as the 2nd keeper because she’s the only one with any true leadership skills. You’ll notice that most of the time Jill Ellis tried some crazy grouping of newbies on the backline over the past 2-3 years she had Ashlyn in goal. Alyssa almost always gets the best and most experienced defenders on her backlines. This is certainly not always the case, but it does happen more often than not. So I think Ashlyn should make the Olympic roster. It’ll be her first time and I’ll be super stoked for her.

I also think Ali should make the squad. She’s certainly good enough to play on that backline. She more than proved that at the World Cup. All the horseshit US Soccer and Jill Ellis tried to feed everybody about how old and slow Kriegs was over the past 2-½ years was exposed as exactly that - horseshit. I think Ali is a better outside back than Sonnett and Davidson (and Purce for that matter too). I think Crystal Dunn did a fabulous job at LB at the WC and I think Casey Short would be a great backup for her. I think Kelley O’Hara is the starter at RB and nobody is going to change that. US Soccer markets her like crazy and I just don’t see anybody taking that spot from her. I still think Ali is a better defender than KO, all day every day. But I agree that KO is a better offensive player than Ali is. It depends on what the coach is looking for. It’s just that simple. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Ali was the first and only defender off the bench in the biggest games in the World Cup. That says it all right there really. Why would you not bring her to the Olympics with you too? Also, on a side note, I think Kelley’s too aggressive and reckless to be a starting defender. I feel the same way about Sonnett too. You shouldn’t have to worry about your defenders getting yellow cards. You want your defenders to be solid back there and tough, no doubt, but you have to be able to rely on them for the full 90. And if a player has to change the way they’re playing the game to avoid getting a second yellow card and leaving the team down to 10 players, then that’s a problem. That’s just my take on defense in general. Ali plays tough, physical, aggressive defense - that’s what attracted me to her in the very first place back in 2011 at that World Cup. But she rarely commits a foul and hardly ever gets a card. That’s how I like my defenders. But that’s just me. Another good thing for Ali is that she can play Center Back too. She’s played CB quite often for the Pride in the NWSL over the past couple of years and she does a really good job of it. A lot of people assume it’s because she was too slow and old to play RB anymore. But that’s simply not the case. Tom Sermanni moved her to CB because she was easily the best defender on the team and he wanted her in a more centralized position so she could help more on defense and so she could lead and command more from that centralized position. She’s also really fast and he wanted her to play there in CB because the other CBs on the team were kind of slow. Zadorsky isn’t slow though, but she wasn’t there when Sermanni made the move. We all know how dynamic Ali can be from that RB position and she still sends in some of the best crosses in the game, NWSL or USWNT. If the Pride ever get a decent backline again, Ali might move back to RB where she truly excels.

The point is, she can play multiple roles along the backline and that’s a big asset for her when it comes to making the Olympic roster. Instead of taking 23 players (20 field players and 3 keepers) like we do for the World Cup, we only get to take 18 players to the Olympics. 16 field players and 2 keepers. Nobody knows what Vlatko’s going to do because he’s too new to get a feel for yet, but making the Olympic roster is one of the hardest things to do for the USWNT players. Theoretically, you could take the WC roster and eliminate 1 keeper and 4 field players and you’d be all set. But that alone is a difficult task. Add to that the players who just missed the cut for the WC, like Casey Short, and the decision gets even harder to make. Players like Julie Ertz and Crystal Dunn and Ali Krieger who can play multiple positions become very valuable now.

And for God’s sake, everybody has to be healthy!! Ellis screwed up big time in 2016 by bringing Megan Rapinoe who wasn’t ready to come back after her torn ACL. It was ridiculous. I love Pinoe - I truly do. But she wasn’t healthy and shouldn’t have taken up a roster spot. I hope Vlatko doesn’t do the same thing with Alex Morgan after she has her baby. I love Morgan too, more than most people do, and I think she makes the team better just by being on the field and keeping the defense honest so the other players have room to do their thing and score goals. I think Morgan is one of the most selfless strikers I’ve ever seen and she gets crap for it all the time. The stats don’t show it but she changes the game just by being out there and keeping defenders busy and opening up space and setting plays up. She’ll never get the credit she deserves for that either. Anyway, I love her ok? But if she’s not 100% then I don’t want her on the team. Period. End of story. I know Sydney Leroux just came back after giving birth and played in the NWSL 3 months afrer having her daughter, but ask Syd how she did after having her first baby? Syd was able to do that because she knew what her body needed after pregnancy beause she’d done it already before. Morgan is an amazing athlete and I’ll be thrilled for her if she can do it, but I also don’t want her to try so hard either. You just had your first baby. Relax and enjoy it. You’ve already got an Olympic gold medal, you know? Here’s another advantage for Ali Krieger - Kelley O’Hara is injury-prone and can’t stay healthy these days. That’s a big risk to take with you into the Olympics. We’re gonna need a really good backup for her. Ali Krieger.

So this is a whole lot of words to say I don’t know if Ali or Ashlyn will make the Olympic roster. They both deserve to be there. I think the team will benefit greatly from having them both there. But we’re just gonna have to wait and see what Vlatko does.

Here’s what I think I’d like to see for my Olympic roster:

Strikers/Wingers: Rapinoe, Heath, Press, Lloyd, Pugh

MF: Lavelle, Ertz, Horan, Mewis, Brian

D: Dunn, Sauerbrunn, Dahlkemper, O’Hara, Krieger, Short

GK: Naeher, Harris

cut from WC roster: Franch, Sonnett, Davidson, Long, MacDonald, Morgan (I know this is 6 players, but I put Casey Short into the roster instead of Sonnett)

Morgan Brian has been playing really well lately so I think I’d take her instead of Allie Long right now. I personally don’t like Pugh very much - I don’t think she’s improved at all since she started playing with the team in 2105/2016. I honestly would take MacDonald over Pugh but that’ll never happen in a million years. And I really like Tierna Davidson a lot. I like her much better at CB and I would seriously consider taking her over Dahlkemper because I’m not a huge Dahlkemper fan to begin wtih. But, again, that’ll never happen. Although who knows? Jill Ellis got rid of Ali Krieger for less reason so who the hell knows? I like bringing 6 defenders because Crystal Dunn could slide up into MF or Forward if necessary during the Olympics. She’s the ultimate utility player who can kick ass on any line on the pitch. Legitimately. And I don’t like when they move JJ back to CB because she’s so good at that holding midfield spot. The team plays totally differently when she’s not in midfield (they play worse). So take 6 defenders. Keep JJ at MF and move Crystal around if injuries happen and we need another body up top for some reason.

There. I’m done. I’ll stop now. Aren’t you sorry you asked? lol

#the sea captain's house

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dorkshadows · 4 years

Text

This one time I had a dream that the phandom was getting into discourse over this YA book series. Apparently a lot of people were getting mad over Leroux!erik showing up in the books. So in the dream, I googled it because I legit had no idea why you were all so mad and it was this young adult fantasy adventure horror(??) series about a teenage girl who solved supernatural mysteries with her friends.

In every book, she’d go up against a classic gothic villain (who were summoned from their actual novels or something??) and it was all leading up to a fight with the overarching big bad at the very end (I think the big bad TM was actually an OC and it was all the other minor villains who belonged to gothic “canon”). There were like, 15 books total(?), all Goosebumps length. Erik was the villain of the first book according to dream!wikipedia lol. But then he returned at the end of the second book and just stayed on as the protag’s sidekick for some reason.

And then it turned out the blurb referring to the girl’s “friends” was actually pointing to Erik and her dog. Also the source of all that discourse came from the degeneration of Erik’s character from book 1 to 15. Because he was out there trying to strangle people and dropping chandeliers in book 1. But by like, book 5, the protag would come home from school and he’d just be there on her couch eating cold pizza and complaining about TV. Or crying about his canon love life. The protagonist’s respect for him drops a bit with each book. I was confused over why anyone would be upset because that sounds like a very Erik thing to do.

Also, wikipedia said Erik managed to die not once, but twice throughout the series because the big bad TM beat him to death(???!) the first time and then stabbed him to death the second time. But he’s okay because Protag brought him back to life both times.

Other stuff I vaguely remember about this hilariously detailed dream article:

Dracula was the villain of book #2

Protag looked like Skai Jackson

Halloween arcs- it was always Halloween in this series

Protag thinks Erik is very annoying and dramatic

Protag and Erik hated each other at the start of the series, but through 15 short books of character development, became bffs’ (sort of)

Erik is pretentious and angsty, but also always hungry and raiding the protag’s fridge for leftover food

Something about a portal to another dimension in hell and this cursed dagger you had to use to activate it

^I think that was the dagger Erik got stabbed to death with lmao

Protag rides a bicycle and her dog runs beside it

At one point, Erik also rode the same bike to pull off a dramatic rescue

Erik always says he’s not going to help and he hates everyone; shows up to save everyone anyway

Big bad killed off Erik for getting in the way (twice LOL) of his master plan

Master plan probably involved world domination, but it wasn’t every well-executed since it kept getting foiled by a tweenager, a dog, and a starving skeleton man

Protag (and dog??) resurrected Erik by re-summoning him through some black magic and that portal thing because I guess once a character dies, they get sucked back into their books as words on paper (or into that hell portal? I can’t remember)

Wait, I remember more now LMAO phandom was mad that Erik died “easily” and thought that he should have been able to survive his two violent deaths

Half of you were also upset that Erik was not the big bad

Protag had a crush on the boy next door

Author ended book 15 on a cliffhanger and still hasn’t written the final book

At the end of all that, I genuinely wanted to read this thing and was slightly disappointed that none of it existed when I woke up.

#phantom of the opera #the dream gave us ALL of that #but no title for the series or name for the protag #long post #no other poto characters were involved though #I also don't know what the cliffhanger was maybe erik died again??

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tawneybel · 5 years

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Okay, I haven’t written a personal post in a while because I’ve been focused on schoolwork. Right now I’m super busy with a project where I have to read and evaluate lots of research articles. :( At least my academic writing is improving.

Ugh, I accidentally deleted my extensive review of Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux. It was a really good book and I finished that page turner months ago. It’s easy to see why it has numerous adaptations and has influenced countless media in the Anglosphere alone. Perhaps even Heathers and Saw, what with the Erik’s plan to explode the opera house and the rosy hours of Mazenderan.

Sadly, the rest of Leroux’s bibliography seems to only be well known in French-speaking places. When I get around to getting a passport and go to Quebec I might duck into a library real quick. Even though she’s my fave mystery writer, I gotta read more detective fiction other than Agatha Christie.

For something rated PG, The Dark Crystal sure is dark. Not as bad The Adventures of Mark Twain being G-rated, though. I prefer its spiritual successor, Labyrinth. If I’d seen Labyrinth as a child that would have become one of my favorite movies, up there with Alice in Wonderland 1951 and The Wizard of Oz. Audiences need less CGI, more puppetry and animatronics!

I kind of want a Skeksis. (And maybe a Fizzgig, too.) Buzzards get a bad rap. We get flocks of turkey vultures and they’re kind of cute despite the smelliness. Let them scavenge! From now on, whenever I want the last slice of pizza or something: “TRIAL BY STONE!”

“Watch your tongue, harridan, we are lords of the Crystal.” Next time I roleplay I’m going to try to get the bae to say something like that to me.

When Aughra sat down in front of the Skeksis table, I honestly thought she was going to go to the bathroom. XD She and Kira were my favorite characters, though. Are wings like the Gelfling equivalent of b00bs?

The God Emperor of Dune was kind of a let down. And I couldn’t get into Heretics at all. When I was in middle school I checked out one of those but I can’t remember which then years later I read both Dune and Dune Messiah twice. I’m not sure if “get” Dune now but they were definitely too advanced for young teen Tawney.

Ever since I found out The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy parodied this franchise, I wanted to read Dune. “Mandy the Merciless” and the gom jabbar from “My Fair Mandy” are so much funnier now.

1,000+-year-old Leto’s slow transformation into a giant sandworm monster was something I was expecting to be hot but it was eh. Obviously, Frank Herbert didn’t intend for it to be bodacious. However, there are certain charming aspects to the Tyrant.

“Do not search for parts of me which no longer exist. Some forms of physical intimacy are no longer possible for me.” (But can Leto Atreides still perform cun/nilngus?)

“Everything about her reaffirmed his awareness that she was precisely the kind of woman who, if he had grown to normal manhood, he would have wanted (No! Demanded!) as his mate.” (Kind of jealous of Hwi, TBH.)

He looks like this in one of the miniseries:

One of my friends came over and got introduced to A Nightmare on Elm Street. The first time I watched that movie, I hadn’t really watched any other slashers. Now I can say Nancy is one of my fave final girls.

Some highlights from our commentary:

“Everybody runs stupidly in this movie. Is that Freddy’s k!nk?”

“How the f*ck could someone…” “We’re sw!ngers, Nancy!”

“How can [Glen] be h0rny at a time like this?” “Anyone can be h0rny on main if they try hard enough.”

“You look deep in thought.” “I am. I want to know the lore.” “If I ever get cheated on, I’m going to say ‘You’re deep in thot!’”

“I just want my hat and glove back. I feel so nak3d without them.”

The first shot of A Clockwork Orange had me hooked. I loved the sets so much. The book was on my to read list and then the kid who sat next to me in Latin showed me why he was having trouble reading it. That futuristic slang. After watching the film, its source is back on the list. At least everyone talks normally once Alex goes to prison.

I like when fictional gangs wear “go to hell” clothes but those were douchesuits Alex and his buddies were wearing. I’m glad he got whacked in the balls. Even if it was by the creepy Mr. Deltoid. Well, he’s -nowhere- near as bad as the protagonist. Alex is an interesting character because he’s amusing but possesses zero likability. And you don’t even feel sorry for him. There was something really satisfying about seeing him bl00dy on the ground. How the hell did he convince those two girls at the record store to go back with him for speed s3x?

More commentary highlights:

“This happens in real life.” “In those outfits?!” “Yes.”

“They’re not very nice people.” “Why would you say that?” “He’s p33ing in front of us.”

*Alex has his hands down his drawers* “Look at that!” “I’d rather not.”

*cat lady doing her stretches* “Do you think she’d get along with Angela [Martin]?”

*discussing the sculpture* “How do you think Malcolm McDowell explains this in interviews?”

Sleeping Beauty was rewatched for the first time since I was very young. It was one of my favorite Disney movies but Aurora wasn’t my favorite princess. That honor went to Ariel. Now I’d say Tiana and Belle are my faves because they get stuff done. I want Disney to go back to cartoon fairy tales sooo bad. Aurora’s sweet and likable but her godmothers are more interesting. I want Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather merch now. Also, was that the broom from Fantasia?

Maleficent and her minions apparently don’t meet up with her often enough to properly confer information. XD She’s into b0ndage and I ship her with Phillip now. Somehow the fact the prince was a total babe went over my head. He was kind of handsy with Briar Rose during their first meeting, though.

Lifechanger couldn’t really hold my attention, which is a shame because I love shapeshifting so much. I expected the MC to possess his victims but it’s okay he didn’t. But the absorption could have been more unsettling, they could have shown more of it.

This post is getting long so I’ll write about The Silence of the Lambs and Scream: Resurrection in the next one.

Song of the Day: “Riding” by Tiny Jag and “Girl in the Machine” by Dedderz.

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teamoliv-archive · 5 years

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Cutscene: New Grudges

The robotic limb felt strange. It didn’t really feel at all, but his brain kept telling him that an arm was there and that he was moving it exactly as it would if it were his own. He grimaces and turns his head. “While I’m normally a fan of cruel jokes, giving me Major Ymir’s arm is a little disturbing. To think you would pull the thing off of the corpse of your dead friend, do you genuinely care about anyone?”

This remark was met with a blow to the back, right in that still sore wound. Jade falls to the ground. He collapses to the dingy floor of the sewer he had previously encountered the Major and Inspector Briar. Cobalt Ymir’s body had since been taken out of the area by Tyrael’s men on the pretense of preparing him for a proper funeral. The switch for the arm was made during then. Already battered and bloody, Jade still felt insulted when he landed in what he was mostly confident was the Major’s dried blood.

“It is to remind you of how much you owe me, Leroux.” Tyrael growls, “Now keep quiet. I will need you consolidate myself here once we salvage what’s left of your miserable operation. Remember, you work for me.”

The rest of Tyrael’s statement is cut short as shots ring out from the dark tunnels of the sewer. He prepares his weapon just in time to realize the shots weren’t meant for him. They had fired on the prone Leroux.

Jade rolled over in a bloody heap, the bullet wounds in his back now obscured as he bared his front to the ceiling. With his body still recovering and his weapon destroyed, he had no real means to defend myself. “I... know that sound. Robin, what are you doing?”

“What I should have fuckin’ done years ago.” Robin Goodfellow stepped forward, revealing himself in the darkness. A mouse skittered in front of him in a panic and tried to dart past Jade and then Tyrael, who stomps on it with a sickening crunch and a weak squeak.

“You do not belong here.” Tyrael glares at Robin. He raises his gun and fires off a volley of flares. The other huntsmen dashes out of the way and manages to roll out of the last blast.

So this was Tyrael Cheshire. The tall muscled man was about as imposing as the rumor said. “You don’t waste time either, huh? Well let me lay it down quick. First, I’m killin’ that bleedin’ snake on the ground. Then I’m shootin’ you in the foot for squishin’ my mouse.” He dashes forward, blades ready. His forward momentum was halted by another fiery blast from his opponent’s massive shotgun. He had to crossguard his weapons to block and it sent him backward a few feet.

Tyrael walks forward still firing. “It is one thing after another with you, Leroux, isn’t it?” He focused his fire on keeping the huntsmen at a distance. Robin Goodfellow came with a fearsome reputation but a tendency for overconfidence. He may be cleanly dodging for now, but a few well-placed blows should be able to subdue him. Once the flares ran out, the weapons shifted into the large greatsword. A shot rang out mid-transformation and a pool of blood formed where Jade Leroux still lay.

Robin skid to a halt with Jade between him and Tyrael, his weapon pointed right at the now dead man. “Is that my uncle’s arm? Fuck is wrong with you?” He straightens his posture and stares the larger man down.

“If you want me to explain myself, you’re shit out of luck. I’ve got my reasons I don’t give a damn why you’re here. Just leave. That psycho bitch Darcie’s probably gonna make what your kid did to the city look like a birthday party once she sees this.”

Tyrael set his jaw and stared at Robin for a short period. He didn’t know who the man was talking about but that was definitely going to be something to investigate later. “I have a feeling you are going to make my life very complicated if I let you out of here alive. I’m going to need you to elaborate on what you just said. If you do, I will only kill you. If I have to beat it out of you, what family you have will be targeted.”

Robin’s stance turned more aggressive in an instant. “Not while I’m here you’re not.” While he understood this was probably one of the worst times in history to grow a conscience, at the same time this line of his never really changed. “You do what you want with me, but if you drag my family into this, I’m gonna make sure you’ve got nothin’ but problems.” He sprints forward just in time for Tyrael to swing that massive sword of his. He catches one side and rolls over it, focusing mostly on dodging the man’s massive attacks. He wasn’t making a big attempt at accuracy Robin noticed. This guy was so massive he likely didn’t need to- so long as he hit once that was what he needed. He just needed to make sure he didn’t get hit.

Tyrael brings up a knee and then a kick to catch Robin in his dodge. This sends the man flying into the far wall. Tyrael charges forward, a pale yellow afterimage trailing behind him. With a roar he raises his sword and crashes it down into the wall, shattering a portion of it.

Robin shoves himself between his opponent’s legs to slide under the blow and leap back upright. The damage to the wall clued him in to reinforce the ‘don’t get hit’ plan. This guy was still slow and that could be used to his advantage. He spins around and starts an offensive, slicing away where he can.

Tyrael spun himself around, not actually blocking the blows. Cuts in his outfit started appearing but he wasn’t bothered by the impact at all. With his semblance still active, he could afford to take blows to maintain his momentum. He swings his fist at the other man to pin him to the wall. He hits the brick again and it shatters at the impact. Robin spun himself out of the way again, continuing his assault in between dodges and parries, keeping too close for Tyrael’s sword to make an effect, so he swung the massive blade again, forcing Robin to duck and slams it into the ground. “It was getting in the way, don’t you agree?” He says cracking his knuckles.

Robin jump to the sword stuck into the ground and uses it as a springboard to get some distance. He fires off some more shots that Tyrael just lets his aura take. He couldn’t keep that up forever, but this guy probably knew exactly how to judge what he had left. Thankfully, he could keep this up too, ducking and weaving out of the way of attacks. He doubted Tyrael was going to be that much faster at hand to hand. No, he just wanted to get in close so Robin had to switch tactics to range. He lets out a few more shots before going in low and slashing at an armpit. He was still only hitting aura, but he was hitting. “Fightin’ a guy who makes his livin’ in deathmatches ain’t the smartest move, you know.” He shifts to a more offensive but dodgy pattern, keeping away from Tyrael’s reach.

Tyrael takes a step back and swings behind his planted blade, lifting it up and swinging it again to gain some distance. He yanks the trigger on the weapon’s handle which sprays flames down the blade and out around him. “And you should not be backing so close to Leroux’s body.” The sword shifts to its shotgun form again and fires off a shot right at the dead man- and igniting what grenades he still had on him.

“Shit.” Robin dove to the side to keep away from the bulk of the explosion. Fire shot everywhere. “Why did that have to be the one you didn’t use, Jade!?” He shouted to himself before standing back up.

“You done yet? ‘Cause I’m just gettin’ started. You’re good, but you’re not gonna win this. I’m tellin’ you once. Stay away from anyone with the name Goodfellow and I won’t bother you. I hear about a single fuckin’ thing, and I tear down what’s left of what you got.”

“You are in no position to be making threats to me, boy.” Tyrael responds, “I have access to things you cannot comprehend. “If I have to go through you, believe me, I will.”

“Right then, time to get serious.” Robin rushes Tyrael down faster than before flipping around him and planting his pistol’s gun barrel right against the man’s shoulder and firing repeatedly. He lifted his legs up to prevent the man’s supernatural momentum from taking advantage. He finally sees a flash come over the man as his aura gives out just in time for Tyrael to force them both backward into the crumbling wall, letting Robin take the brunt of the blow. It hurt like hell but he wasn’t going to be able to do it twice.

Tyrael took a few heavy steps toward the debris where Robin laid still. He raises the sword with both hands ready to strike. He watches as Robin’s arms start to flail almost like they’re flapping. “You can’t move anymore can you?”

“Figured you’d do that...” Robin says with a battered smirk, “I’ve got one last trick up my sleeve. See, I am movin’.” His body jerks forward as a swarm of bats, lead by one with glowing green eyes flew right at him.

Tyrael has to cover himself as his vision is obscured by the sudden bat swarm. One moved, and the rest followed. He swung his arm and splattered several against the wall and injuring them. Once the swarm was clear, Robin was gone. It appeared he was going to need to pay a visit to Ciar before he went back to Atlas. This wasn’t going to stand.

Getting out of the sewer suddenly became the major priority. Tyrael Cheshire may have been injured, but that probably wasn’t going to slow him down. Then again, he seemed the sort to Robin to plan something slow but big. He’d have to watch for him later. For now, he needed to make sure his father knew what was going on.

#teamoliv #Tyrael Cheshire - Overheard Conversations #Robin Goodfellow - Cutscene #Team OLIV - The Red Arena

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priyaele · 6 years

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𝕭𝖚𝖗𝖞 𝕸𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖎𝖙𝖞- 𝕰𝖝𝖈𝖊𝖗𝖕𝖙

follower milestone celebration pt. 2

tag list: let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

@avi-burton-writing @levikate @cautiousgoose @worldbuildng @astralysis@1kwordsand10littlecandies @pagesintransit @atelierwriting @librasunwritings@gracebabcockwrites @ivonoris @omgbrekkerkaz@twocrownsoneshittywriter @novelistcore @lavenderas @the-ichor-of-ruination @maskedlady @allthelovelyghosts

I stood on the pavement, my fingers bunched against the sides of my yellow dress, the bitter night air tearing in and out of my open lips. Words lingered on my tongue, stung with a sharp, overpowering sweetness, all that I’d wished I’d said to him, but knew was better I hadn’t.

I walked away from the noise of the party, beating and humming like the slowing pound of my heartbeat, his words flickering in and out of my senses in flashes. The streets ran cold under my feet, muddled and scorched with the pulse of dirtied cement and everyday life. Eyes skirted past me as I kept on, tripping over hurried footsteps laced with a heel just a few centimeters too high, a shoe a size too big. I ran the palm of my hand over my face, tried to ignore the way my skin came away streaked with mascara and the brimming of tears I hadn’t let fall. I was dressed too nice to look like this much of a mess. And this day in spring was too warm for the ice now buried deep in my gut.

I scattered to the edge of the curb, lights swerving and twisting in my vision. Cars burst out from the hiding places between buildings, burned against the painted and re-painted lines arranged on the roadside. I stopped, realizing that I had no idea where I was going, that I shouldn’t be walking alone so late at night, that I could hardly catch my breath.

It was dark out and in the city there were no stars, but I still looked for them, on nights I felt alone, every time for the last ten years I’d been in there. For one moment, I wished I was back in France, I wished I had never stepped foot in Manhattan, in the school, seen him. I wished to go back to the start, with my mother, with my father, with the belief that we had more than a single wish left. But this city belonged to it’s people, especially in the places we’d ruined it.

“Femi!”

A voice thrashed over the noise of scattering wheels, of car horns, of my own sickly-tasting breath tearing in my lungs. I spun on my heels, my hands forced over my mouth, fingers brushing against the dark now pressed beneath my eyes.

A car, a Rolls Royce, black and so polished it seemed immune to the world’s grasp, pulled up to the curb, throbbing against the road as it forced itself into a stop.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I didn’t recognize Tiffany at first, her voice taut and shrill against the pulse of noise around us. But as soon as she stepped from the car, heel steady against the city streets, black eyes sharp and cold, I knew. My stomach lurched in a way that brought back the memories of the conversation we’d shared days before, the connection that had been built from what I had once been sure was a point of no return. She was wearing a little black dress, heavy makeup that managed to paint itself as elegant against her young features, and her dark brown hair was styled so that it fell to her collarbones, brushed over the prominent bones that now did nothing but make me feel sick, pitiful.

My eyes flickered to her’s. I hadn’t seen her inside, but I knew she must have seen me.

“I-” I forced my hair from my face, tried to push back the sudden bursts of memory flashing in my head, the words, the way they’d rung hollow and loud, even in a place so packed with noise.

“Actually, I don’t really want to hear it. Get in the car.” Tiffany’s lip curled as she tugged at the car door, opening it wider.

“I can’t.” I muttered, voice smudged into a whisper I’m sure she wouldn’t have heard even if she wanted to.

“Don’t be an idiot, LeRoux.” She dragged her hand against the necklace at her throat, laced with diamonds that probably cost more than my family’s rent. “I’m getting you home.”

I couldn’t argue with her. And other than the subways, which I was not dressed or prepared for, I didn’t have a ride home. So I just nodded at her, stumbled towards the curb, towards Tiffany’s car.

“Thank you.” I tried to wipe the residue from under my eyes, but only succeeded in deepening the stains, tainting my fingers with the same sooty color.

She let me get in the car first. It smelled new, of leather that was not yet cracked, a perfume that reminded me of delicate flowers and velvet carpeting and rich people. I forced myself to the end of the seats, forced myself to sit upright, to not let my forehead collapse against the window.

“Mhm.” Tiffany got in after me, closed the door with a slam. “And don’t you dare cry in here, goddammit.” She locked eyes with the driver, nodded once, pulled her seatbelt over her torso. “I won’t have you staining these seats.” Her voice was crisp and lined with glass, her glare focused on the front window, but when I glanced at her I saw softness written over her face, empathy, maybe the steepeningly warm memories of the last conversation we had shared together, even after everything.

“I’m not crying.” I said, trying, unsuccessfully, to keep my words from breaking against my tongue.

“Yeah, not yet.”

I shut my eyes, urged my breathing to soften, tried to make my head run blank so I wouldn’t have to think, not worry, not until the morning at least. The car pulled away from the curb, breathed itself into the rhythm of the streets, the melody of car horns and sudden stops and jolts.

“Where to?” I heard the driver say, his voice numb, like something out of a dream, just beyond the grasps of reality to my straying mind. I answered with my address, only half sure I’d gotten the words off my tongue.

There was a long stretch of silence. I heard nothing but the sound of my heartbeat, deafening in my ears, the rattle and pull of my own breath. The car, with it’s dark seats, folded soft under my touch. The lights of the outside world blurred under my vision, so overwhelming it made my head swim.

“You okay?” Tiffany asked, her voice willowy. My eyes snapped open. Tiffany Covington was not the type of person to ask how someone was doing, especially how I was doing.

“I’ll be okay.”

“I mean, obviously.”

I shut my eyes again.

“But seriously.” Tiffany’s spoke louder. “That was rough.” I didn’t answer. “And I’d be surprised if you were.”

“What?”

“Completely okay, right now.” I opened my eyes, locked gazes with her. “People like you really just don’t bounce back that easily.”

And then I turned away, my fingers pulling close to my stomach.

As much as I tried, I couldn’t keep the fight from playing over in my head, the way his gray eyes had seemed to turn frigid, the way he’d dispersed into the crowds, the way everyone had seen, some muttering, grinning.

“You know, I didn’t mean to be that much of a bitch, earlier this year-” Tiffany said out of nowhere, looking out the window to her left.

“You weren’t a bitch.” I said, masking the way my voice cracked at the edges, worn, like I’d risen from a shallow sleep.

“I totally was.”

“It’s okay.”

Tiffany let out a heavy exhale, one that sounded like the start of a disbelieving laugh. I listened to the driver tapping his fingertips against the wheel, the sweet sounds of pop songs breathing hollow over the speakers, watched the streets which were becoming familiar to me fly against the windows. Tiffany and I didn’t speak until the car had slowed to a stop, until I saw my apartment building spilling up into the blank night sky, until I’d stepped out of the car.

“Femi, it’s going to be okay.” I’d already been halfway off the curb, I’d already hurriedly thanked the driver, my voice bubbling and burning on my tongue when Tiffany spoke to me, tone oddly sweet. “Everything’s going to work out for you.”

I froze in my steps, spun to face her. She was watching me from the backseat, dark eyes soft, voice lined with nothing but calmth. “You deserve it to. You forgave me earlier,”

“Tiffany-”

“After everything.” Shame. I heard it in her. “And you did nothing wrong.”

I felt a smile pull at the edge of my lips, hope begin to crackle to light. But I was still too tired, disarrayed, confused, to make any sense of it all. Somehow, Tiffany returned that smile.

“I’ll see you soon.” She waved, let her eyes drift to the apartment at my back. “Take care of yourself.” Then she shut the door. And I stood, watching, as the car pulled away into the night.

:) wrote + workshopped this at a writing program in nyc

#writing #writer #write #writeblr #milestone #wishesasks #mywriting

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forthegothicheroine · 6 years

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Best books I read in 2017

I read a lot of graphic novels this year, whose individual volumes artificially inflated my goodreads numbers. In any case, here are my favorites- not necessarily books that came out this year, just ones I actually got to.

Behind this cut lies gothic horror, true crime, indie comics, weird history, magic realism, and muppets.

My Favorite Thing is Monsters: This one is my absolute favorite of the year. Oh my god. Heaven help me. Oh god. If you want a fantastic world of monster movies, private heartbreak, memoirs of libertine cults, and amazing color all narrated by an adorable lesbian werewolf girl, please read this book. And join me in dancing around impatiently for the next volume.

The Faerie Handbook: Look, sometimes I just want to be twelve again and surround myself with fairy artwork and crafts and mythology, all provided by the editors of Faerie Magazine. This book helps with that.

Haunted Castles: This is a collection of gothic novellas by Ray Russell, and it’s worth it for “Sardonicus” alone. The other stories aren’t bad either (especially the super-nasty “The Fugitive Lovers”) and an introduction by Guillermo del Toro doesn’t hurt.

Swords Against Wizardry: I’ve talked about my love of the Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser series before, and this book is the best of all. I love these two dorky adventurers, and this is the pinnacle of sword and sorcery as Coen Brothers-style dark comedy. Steal invisible treasure! Romance invisible maidens! See what happens when you try to fence invisible treasure! Say ‘screw it’ and end up fucking around in Gormenghast! Such is the adventuring life.

The Rabbi’s Cat: Another graphic novel, this one is sad and cute in equal measure. Don’t worry, it’s not a downer- it’s about a skinny, mischief-making cat who wants to become Jewish solely so he can keep getting petted by the Rabbi’s daughter. The family’s life in 1930s Algeria fluctuates, as does the Rabbi’s faith, and through it all the cat wryly observes.

The Coldest Girl in Coldtown: Now this is the kind of YA vampire romance I want to read! It’s genuinely exciting and the vampire dystopia portrayed is believably glamorous and grimy. These are vampires I can believe in, both sympathetic and otherwise. Plus, if you’ve ever wanted to punch out Lestat, you’ll be satisfied.

Conjure Wife: I had read this one before, but it rang especially true this time. A college professor finds out his wife has been using witchcraft to prop up his entire career, and everything falls to hell when he makes her stop. It has to be taken literally for an urban fantasy suspense romp, but you can also easily read it as a metaphor by replacing “witchcraft” with “emotional labor.”

The Refrigerator Monologues: Catherynne M. Valente is pretty hit or miss for me, but this worked for me in a big way. Her anger at watching Gwen Stacy die on screen resulted in this work, where analogues for female comic book characters air their grievances from the afterlife (my favorite is the Harley Quinn one.) You can tell her opinions- she thinks Jean Grey has been rebooted way too many crimes, and Daredevil is the only hero who comes off completely sympathetic- but whether you share her opinions or not, I think you’ll find value here.

My Friend Dahmer: ‘Derf’ Backderf went to high school with Jeffrey Dahmer. The kid was weird, and they always laughed at his antics...until he got just a little too weird and they distanced theirselves from him. Looking back, he wonders many things, chiefly why none of the adults recognized or cared about the warning signs that Dahmer was having serious problems. @harkerling said this graphic novel memoir perfectly hit the balance between sympathizing with a killer and not excusing him, and it’s going to stick with me for a long time.

Nightmare Movies: Kim Newman is another hit or miss author for me, but I’m definitely going to check out more of his work now that I’ve read what he has to say about horror movies. Even when I don’t agree, he’s always intelligent and insightful and notices things I somehow missed (is Hayley from Hard Candy actually a ghost or an avenging angel?) I’ll fight him on a few movies he trashes, but it will be a gentle fight.

Paperbacks from Hell: Oh man this one is fun. The author of the horror comedy novel Horrorstor gives us a look at the best and worst of pulp horror paperback covers, from the sixties through the nineties. You’ll meet skeletons in funny poses, whip-weilding leprachauns, and plenty of gothic heroines running away from big houses in the middle of the night. The only problem with this book is that it made my to-read list so much longer!

Romantic Outlaws: This dual biography of Mary Wollstonecraft and Mary Shelley filled in so many gap in my knowledge of gothic literature, broke my heart, and even helped me understand what these women saw in their wacky husbands. It’s huge but it’s a page-turner, and you’ll feel like these women are your troubled but fascinating best friends.

Muppet Classics: Phantom of the Opera: Look, you’ll never know till you read this what a great Christine Miss Piggy is. It works with the Leroux text adding not only Muppet characters and jokes but developing a semi-plausible background for the plot. The casting is perfect, and don’t get too comfortable because muppets actually die! Now I just need them to do Muppet Dracula.

Poirot and Me: Do you love David Suchet’s Poirot? Do you want to know how an actual method actor works, as opposed to a publicity seeking jackass who annoys his fellow cast? Read this book. It’s precious and enlightening, and now when I watch Poirot I see how much work Suchet put into every motion and expression to perfectly match Agatha Christie’s creation. (And to any of you who may have headcanoned Poirot as asexual, Suchet says you’re right.)

#books

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darklygophilia · 7 years

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Phantom of the Opera: a tale as old as...

(This is gonna be long...)

Recently I’ve re-discovered my love for “Phantom of the Opera.” It started after I saw the 2017 rendition of the tale that’s as old as time “Beauty & the Beast,” which lead to my re-reading of favorite childhood novels, “Beauty” & “Rose Daughter” by Robin McKinley. Low & behold, right next to them on my book shelf was one of my all time favorites, Gaston Leroux’s “Phantom of the Opera.” It had been a while since I’d read any of them & in re-reading them with a slightly more wise, adult POV, & a bit more life experience, I was overjoyed that the experience felt much like the 1st in the fact that I realized many details in the stories that I’d missed when I was younger. It’s nice, leaving a favored stories behind for a while & then taking it back in with a fresher perspective.

Throughout this vast re-read, I had also at the time been doing research in Greek Mythology (for another project) & also happened to be reacquainting myself with the Hades/Persephone tale. The thing about mythology is that the stories alter in certain details over time. It’s not so different from books like “Phantom of the Opera” that have so many adaptations that they all get jumbled together in their influence over our interpretations of them. When it came to Hades/Persephone what irked me in my research was discovering that Zeus was lauded throughout history. In too many interpretations/re-tellings Zeus is seen as the caring father-figure, the loving grandfatherly-figure (if we’re talking about Disney’s animated Hercules), or the seductive all power God-King. He’s someone to respect. Right? Not really!

Zeus is a man who often came down to Earth to consort with human women (those who denied him its hinted that he raped them) & was NEVER faithful to any of his wives. What, you thought Hera was his only wife? The Greeks viewed him in a traditional Patriarchal sense & that has extended throughout each new adaptation of his character. However, after reading up on Zeus, he actually had a lot in common with his father Cronus, the tyrant Titan King (Cronus may have swallowed his own children, but guess what, so did Zeus - i.e. Athena). Throughout history, literature, & Hollywood he’s portrayed as a hero, an authority figure to be lauded (& perhaps that’s our own Patriarchal society influencing us). Zeus, is in reality, extremely unfaithful, hinted as being a seducer of women & a rapist, had much in common with a former tyrant (his father), etc. Hades is typically chosen as the epitome bad guy. I mean, he had to be bad, since he ruled the Underworld (a job he never even wanted)! Right? It was actually Hades’ power, strength, natural leadership & strategy skills during the 5 yr. war between the Olympians/Titans, the Titanomachy, that enabled the Olympians to win - it was also what caused Zeus to fear Hades & trick him into ruling the Underworld (which inevitably made people wary of Hades & eventually vilified him).

When Hades meets Persephone, falling madly in love with her, he’s unsure how to proceed. Hades actually goes to Zeus, telling his brother that he’s found a potential bride but is essentially uncertain how to proceed. “I’ll just ask my womanizing big brother, Zeus, he knows how to woo women.” (I’m paraphrasing, obviously, but you get the gist.) It is actually Zeus who suggests that Hades should kidnap Persephone. Which in itself, says more about Zeus than it does Hades, IMO!

Hades takes his brother’s advice & does as Zeus suggests, kidnapping Persephone. What’s interesting is the fact that while this 1st half of the story remains pretty consistent throughout the fogginess of history (myths do like to alter throughout time with each new interpretation of them) the 2nd half is open to much interpretation due the latter half being unclear of certain events. It’s a toss-of-the coin, a 50/50 chance; many philosophers & historians believe Persephone was taken against her will, while just as many of them suggest that Persephone saw Hades taking her to the Underworld as rescuing her from her overbearing, controlling mother, Demeter. Demeter also threatens to leave the world in a perpetual state of winter, essentially driving all of humanity into starvation, The same speculate as to whether Persephone knew what would happen if she ate those famed pomegranate seeds.

For any story that leaves room for speculation, I’ve found that it’s what people theorize that’s far more telling of THEM as people than it is of the actual story! When people theorize that Persephone was a victim, that she was tricked, that says more about the theorist than it does Persephone, b/c the theorist is the one that is turning Persephone into the victim, not necessarily the actual story. When theorists interprets/speculates that Persephone had an intelligence that enabled her to know what she was doing, that she made her own choices, it lends Persephone the agency she deserves as a person rather than choosing to victimize her! The story also hints that Hades truly loved Persephone given that he was pretty much the only Olympian who was faithful to his wife!

Moving forward, as I re-read “Phantom of the Opera” (as well as reading “Phantom” by Susan Kay for the first time) I began noticing parallels not just with stories like “Beauty & the Beast” but also Hades/Persephone.

The most obvious parallels being: in comparison to “Beauty & the Beast” an ugly (cursed) man seeking the companionship of a woman who can love him in spite of his ugliness; in comparison to Hades/Persephone, when the Phantom absconds with Christine, taking her down to his lair to make her his bride. The latter parallel also reminds me of the french epic poem “Eloa” who is an agel that falls in love with a disguised Satan - he takes her to hell, not believing she could truly love him now that she knows the truth, but instead she chooses to stay with him regardless.

In particular the parallel to Hades/Persephone seemed to fit considering this particular quote from Leroux’s novel, “You must know that I am made of death, from head to foot, & it is a corpse who loves you & adores you & will never, never leave you!” Hades was often referred as Lord of Death since people feared speaking his actual name.

My foray into the various “Phantom of the Opera” adaptations also enlightened me to other aspects of parallelism & details that, as a child, I had not thought of until now with an adult perspective.

Fantasy vs. Reality...

In “Beauty & the Beast”, the ultimate reward for Belle in loving the Beast for who he is (not what he is) in the end, is that he transforms back into his handsome Princely self. As a children’s story B&B gets the message across; that beauty is more than just skin deep, teaches lessons of seeing beyond the obvious, acceptance & tolerance. But the ending is the real fantasy, the lie as it were, b/c in the real world the Beast would not become a Prince again. The real reward for Belle in reality would simply be the Beast’s love, not an alteration in his physicality. These fundamental changes in childhood stories are true within the concept of tales like “Beauty & the Beast” in comparison to whether we’re looking at the story with a child’s gaze or through an adult’s POV. There’s the fantasy we interpret as children, then there’s the reality we see as adults! This comparison is reflective between various adaptations of “Phantom of the Opera” & “Beauty & the Beast.” The fantasy being B&B where the beauty is rewarded for loving such a creature by him transforming into a handsome Prince, while the Phantom stays as he is.

Fantasy Love...

In “Phantom of the Opera” Raoul is referred to as “foppish boy,” that “insolent boy” but a boy all the same! His youth, education, title & wealth are the very things that most women think of in an ideal man. His overall role in Christine Daae’s life represents the sweetness of childhood. Raoul is, at 1st, presented in a very real aspect: his brief history with Christine, his lac of mystery making him seem normal; there’s no supernatural element to his character. However, as Raoul become a Love Interest to Christine, he’s rendered a sort of fairy-tale quality. The reality being that a man of Raoul’s social standing would likely not be able to/or even think to marry someone of Christine’s much lower social standing (he’s a Vicomte, she’s a mere chorus girl). That particular element gives their “love” a Cinderella” feel rendering Raoul as a sort-of Prince Charming. Erik, the Phantom, is flawed & referred to as the man of the story - he’s older, wiser, more experienced (even if those experiences have made him bitter). Leroux even calls Erik, “The man’s voice.” Raoul become less of a reality & more of a fantasy love, akin to a Prince Charming in a fairy-talewhile Erik, becomes less of a fantasy throughout the story & something far more tangible; he’s brutal & honestly flawed, an ugly reality of the world.

Each adaptation that I’ve come across seems to present Erik/Raoul to the reader as polar opposites. You have Raoul who Christine sees quite obviously as a real person (he’s not an Angel of Music, he’s not some Opera Ghost), he’s real flesh & blood, a youthful young man. They have some history together which solidifies Raoul’s presence as a normal guy in Christine’s life. There is no air of mystery. Yet, they come from completely different classes of society. Not unlike how Darcy, in reality, would never marry someone of such low social standing as Elizabeth Bennett (”Pride & Prejudice”). That’s the fantasy - the Prince Charming, Cinderella effect of the Raoul/Christine relationship. Where as there is no real social separation between Erik & Christine. Any expectations society gives for Christine to choose Raoul are the very things that make him a fantasy love: wealth, title, handsome, youth, etc. The fantasy itself is the very thing that lends an illusion of realism to Raoul as Christine’s love interest! He’s a fantasy that exists completely under an illusion of realism, IMO!

Christine: Growing Up...

This is where the jumbled various adaptations of a story become harder to separate, in this regard I’m essentially taking in a bit of every adaptation (this reminds me of Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” where in the original novel he’s not as handsome as Dracula is later perceived in later adaptations). In Leroux’s novel Christine has only known Erik, her Angel of Music for a few months (though at times it seemed like she’d known him much longer) whereas other adaptations show Erik being in Christine’s life much longer. As a child Christine looks upon Erik with a child’s gaze. 1st as her Angel of Music, seeing him as a literal Angel. Quickly morphing into the guidance of a teacher, & while he still remains her “mon ange” (my angel), he has also become her Maestro. At the same time he’s become the Opera Ghost. With each stage of Christine’s psyche, the illusion of Erik melts away; from Angel, to Maestro, to Phantom, until he is just a flesh & blood man. Where as Raoul remains a representation of Christine’s childhood & their “love” eludes to that youthful mindset - a childhood infatuation that’s as fleeting as the emotions experienced by other teenagers. Not unlike the comparative romantic relationship in “Gone with the Wind” (Scarlet clings to Ashley who represents life before the war, the last part of her childhood, of a time long gone; while ignoring her very real feelings for Rhett which represent something far more lasting & mature. You have Ashley, the idealist & Rhett, the realist). Raoul represents Christine’s past, her childhood idealism; Erik represents Christine’s growth b/c he’s seemingly a part of every phase of her life.

Christine’s Early Childhood - Raoul (varies with each adaptation)

Christine’s Later Childhood - Erik as her Angel of Music.

Christine’s Teen Yrs. - Erik as he Angel but also now taking on the role of Maestro, her teacher, while also being the mysterious Opera Ghost (something darker, more mysterious than the purity of an Angel).

Christine’s Adult Yrs. (moving into womanhood) - Erik, the illusions have fallen away & he’s now just a flesh & blood man!

The role Raoul seems to chiefly represent in Christine’s life is her past, there’s not much growth in their relationship beyond Raul wooing her. B/c her relationship with Erik changed over the yrs. it represents real growth in character & personality for Christine which is the reality of growing up. By choosing Raoul, Christine chose the illusion of living her life through her childhood & is therefore stuck in the past. Raul essential hinders Christine’s growth as a character, IMO.

Sexuality...

Erik (the Phantom) is a lot like Severus Snape - an unlikely sex symbol of the story! He’s also acts as a sort of metaphor for Christine Daae’s evolution in discovering her sexuality.

The fundamental growth of Christine moving away from her childhood & into a woman is connective to how Erik encompasses various phases of her life. When Christine looks upon Erik as an Angel it represents the purity of a child’s mind. He’s her friend, her companion of comfort that get’s her through the loneliness after her father’s death (the Musical & 2004 film). When he grows into her Maestro - her teacher - he becomes her confidant, a source of wisdom (this is especially prevalent in the Charles Dance mini series). As she grows into her teen yrs. & Erik becomes the Opera Ghost, he represents something darker, more mysterious in nature; he’s no longer the pure Angel. By the time Christine sees Erik, the flesh & blood man, he’s fallen in love with her which shows his representation of Christine moving her mindset from the fantastical (Angel/Phantom) to something more real (a man). This development, I feel, is the opposite of Raoul. Raoul starts off seeming realistic & morphs into the fantasy of a sort-of Prince Charming, showing that Christine looks upon Raoul the way she would as a child, as a fairy-tale ending. Whereas Erik starts out as something unreal/otherworldly (Angel/Phantom) later becoming something tangible & real. It shows how with Raoul, Christine moves backward but with Erik she moves forward into adulthood - womanhood (though, that’s just my interpretation).

That moment of adulthood is when Erik reveals himself to being a real man & takes Christine down to his lair for the first time. (Leroux) “The moment she took his offered hand she was no longer a child.” In the musical, this is shown in the song “Music of the Night” in it’s purely sensual nature & tone of the song where we see Erik caress & holding Christine repeatedly throughout the scene. Many speculate that this strongly hinted that Christine & Erik were actually lovers in the most intimate sense, given that during that time period what differentiated between being a girl & being a woman was the marriage bed. Both the quote & song hint at a deeper connection between the 2.

This is reflective throughout much of Christine’s relationship with Erik. In the musical, the songs become more sensual in nature & far less metaphorical. One theory I found was the speculation that “Music of the Night” was metaphorical to Christine loosing her virginity. Interesting.

The song “Past the Point of No Return” is a bit more blatant in its lyrics if still a bit poetic in how it addresses the concept of physical/sexual pleasure. The fact that it’s a duet between Erik/Christine further shows a more sexual nature to their relationship. It’s the opposite of the duet shared between Raoul/Christine “Say you need me...” which is far more innocent in nature & tone. Where as the songs/scenes between Erik/Christine radiate passion! In “Love Never Dies” adaptation, the song “Beneath a Moonless Sky” is downright blatantly descriptive of the sexual intimacy between Erik/Christine (no longer metaphorical).

As little girls we’re fed stories, fairy-tales of gentle love. Even books like Twilight capitalize on the interpretation of young love as something pure where the teenage male is (rather unrealistically) a perfect gentleman & other books where the man is the only one perceived as having a sexual nature. “Phantom of the Opera” in its own way shows that women are sexual creatures, too. By representing the innocence of her childhood, Raoul is in a way repressive of Christine’s sexuality while Erik enables her to embrace certain desires.

What furthers the sexualization of Erik - whether it’s when he’s Christine’s Angel...

her Maestro...

the Opera Ghost...

or just the ostracized, scarred, tormented, isolated flesh & blood man, Erik...

- is the fact that throughout various adaptations of the story there is a great deal that appeals to popular erotic fantasy.

There’s the eroticism of the Phantom’s aesthetic in adaptations like: Webber’s Musical, the Charles Dance Mini Series, the 2004 film, even the poetic prose of Susan Kay’s novel lends a romanticized interpretation of the character: He’s tall, dark, mysterious with an edge of danger. And in terms of physicality, the Phantom is far different from that of Raoul. While Raoul would likely be a handsome athletic man for the time period, he is also what was considered the typical handsome, the typical athlete. Males in society within Raoul’s social class were physical in that they likely had formal hunting parties (ever watched Downton Abbey?) & knew how to fence. But his wealthy likely meant he never had to do any form of real physical labor. In the Charles Dance mini series, ‘04 film, Webber’s Musical, & a novel by Fredrick Forsyth, the Phantom is decidedly more physical: from building & adjusting the Opera House’s architecture, roaming around the Opera House in unlikely places (climbing onto the rafters), not to mention how he moves large pieces of furniture like an organ all the way down to his lair; the Phantom’s backstory as an assassin in Persia! He is very much an active man who’s dealt with physical labor & hardships his whole life & therefore has a sense of strength that Raoul’s luxurious lifestyle would probably NOT enable him to have.

Let’s not forget that enigmatic mask of his!

Not to mention the cape!

And of course the sexualization of the student/teacher-protege/mentor relationship!

Yet, despite all the illusions, the many faces Erik wears, he is far more tangible & real than Raoul. Raoul, who’s personality floats somewhere between entitled brat to nonexistent; Raul, whose entire character is defined by his wealth, his good looks & his past with Christine. Where as Erik, the Phantom has a backstory, a tortured life that makes him the man he is now. Erik who is ever changing & complex in personality & character no matter how enigmatic he’s portrayed feels far more real. Even down to how people treat him & the cruelties he’s endured simply b/c of what he looks like is a reality of our world!

As for the love Erik has for Christine - in Leroux’s novel Erik seems consumed with loneliness & desperate for companionship which makes his feeling for Christine appear obsessive in nature. Though, even at the end they are both moved to tears & Christine shows him great compassion. It’s possible that the lack of human contact that Leroux’s Erik has endured is parallel to that of extreme isolation which can psychological alter a person’s sanity. So, is it the abuse he’s faced throughout his life, the horrors he witnessed in Persia, or his isolation that has made insane? Perhaps all three in Leroux’s novel.

In other adaptations Erik’s love is portrayed as something far more pure. He loves Christine for her talents (singing, ballet, artistry) & not her physical beauty like Raoul. As a woman, I can’t tell you how annoying it is when people, men in general, comment on my looks. When someone tells you you’re pretty/beautiful, your looks aren’t something you really have control over (genetics), therefore the compliment falls flat a lot of the time. Where as if you compliment someone for their accomplishments, something they’ve worked hard for, it’s far more meaningful. The relationship between Erik/Christine in various adaptations appears to be built on companionship, trust, respect, the love of friends, the love of student/teacher, romantic love, the appreciation they have for each other’s talents, & at times their own mutual loneliness (Erik in his solitude & Christine in the sadness of her father’s death). The Raoul/Christine relationship many times focuses on how beautiful Raoul thinks Christine is. In the 1990s TV mini series adaptation starring Charles Dance, the Phantom tells Christine that Raoul is not worthy of her b/c, “He comes to the opera for the wrong reasons. He come for the sake of pretty faces rather than the music.” In a way, much like in “Beauty & the Beast” Belle/Christine at times deal with body image issues. Where as the Beast in B&B, & Erik in “Phantom of the Opera” are both judged for how they look, so are the characters Belle/Christine - both women are seen for their looks by their love interests Gaston/Raoul. Where as in the Musical, for example, Erik seems to focus mostly on Christine's talents which he later becomes attracted to.

This was essentially my interpretation of “The Phantom of the Opera” in it’s entirety, including the influence of its various adaptations. I theorize with the more sympathetic, romanticized versions of the story mostly b/c my 1st exposure to it was the 2004 film & later Webber’s Musical. I read the book after that & so my mental via of the Phantom was decidedly different to that of what Leroux likely originally intended. To me the film, musical, mini series, & Susan Kay’s novel are the ones that are most influential of how I view the story/characters compared to someone who started out reading Leroux’s book 1st. Which was an entirely new experience for me in terms of how I usually analyze/interpret things b/c I almost always read the original novel before any other adaptation.

#Phantom of the Opera #Phantom #Meta #Beauty & the Beast #Hades & Persephone #Character Analysis #Writing #Gaston Leroux #Susan Kay

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