I’m currently in a very bad mood; exam is killing my nerves and personal + himi stuff too. So I putted on the Phantom of the Opera-music and looked through my PotO-artcollection, which always reminds me how awesome japanese fanart is. Japanese fanarts makes the impossible possible.
Look how fluffy thiiiiiiiiiis is.
Especially the one with Erik and Christine being outside. At a bright day. Without cape or anything else. I guess Erik would never ever do that.
But why is it still so cute?
Pictures by: http://arabagi.net/
I guess I just died…. ooooooooh my god!! Those are amazing!!! I love them!! <3
Most of them are E/C goodness but still be my fav at all…
Oh, my God, these are so beautiful! I love them all!!
Okay I’m just gonna repost this so it can be in the tags and so that my followers can reply to it
unpopular opinion about phantom oops
DINGDINGDING WE HAVE A WINNER
From the point of view of someone who’s read the book several times, seen…
I think Erik lost Christine’s affection the moment he reviled himself. I think that was the moment she realized who he was. All those ghost stories were true. Every death. Every threating note. It was all him. He was no Angel, nor was he the ghost of her father. Their entire relationship was built upon lies and deceit.
If there was ever a chance of any kind of relationship (platonic, romantic, etc.) It died the moment he took her. I think the only emotion she could feel for him was pity.
On that note, I don’t think any of these phanpic writers ever focuses on the fact that Erik was stark raving mad. Anyone who has ever read the books could clearly see this. All the years of physical and mental abuse, along with decades of solitude resulted in a man that was a shell of himself.
I believe that Erik’s notion of love was him filling the emptiness with someone who could be naive enough to believe that he was something much greater than he was. A small girl who had been told stories of magic and love would be drawn to the idea of a heavenly being calling to her. Who’s to think that he had not attempted contact before? Maybe she was the only one who didn’t run away in fear. He attached to her and couldn’t let go. Someone, a real person, was reaching out to him for guidance and support. To feel so important in someones life would be just the hold he needed.
In short Erik was a raving lunatic who fabricated their relationship beyond what it ever could have been. Those who write otherwise are hopeful romantics. (Not that I don’t enjoy reading them)
I may post this once more today, but that will be it…
I need honest opinions here. This is a rough excerpt of a fan fiction that I hopping to start really writing soon. It is the Frankenstein/Phantom of the Opera crossover I mentioned a day or so ago. The basic synopsis is that Erik is the Creature and, after Frankenstein’s death, he travels the world looking for a purpose and someone to accept him for who he is. This piece is from (roughly) chapter seven where the Creature is trying to find a name to give to Christine. (No, I haven’t written that far yet, that is just where I started). Please enjoy and give me feed back.
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‘My name? She wants to know my name? Why would such something as insignificant as a name be so important? Will “Angel” not do?’ The Creature continued to pace around his study, trying with all his might to come up with a name. But not just any name. ‘This name must mean something, I cannot just spout something out! This name must be great!’ So he continued to think, shouting aloud names of important men.
“Henry! No, too much blood on his hands. I do not want my beautiful Christine to know of the blood that is on mine. Louie? No, it sounds…frilly…that also will not do.” He paused for a moment, when another name came to his mind. “Do I dare? Adam. It fits, but do I dare compare myself to something that was created in beauty? Though, like Adam, I was created from nothing, he had a purpose. A mission. His master made him like Himself. Adam was made in the open, was made to be a king of the Earth! And what was I made for? For a ‘genius’s’ folly. He made me because he could! I have no purpose, and I am a king of nothing but my own world of darkness…like Satan…like Lucifer…” He paused again in his speech. He stood still, in deep thought. As he turned it over and over again in his mind it became more and more clear. “I am Lucifer. King of darkness! Master of my own fate!”
Suddenly a sound came from behind him. The Creature turned quickly to see the source, but saw nothing in the darkness. ‘Perhaps a sheet of music falling to the floor.’ He stared for a moment longer, but his thoughts were too great to suppress. He continued on. “If I tell Christine that I am Lucifer…what will she think then. I am not an Angel, but the Devil himself? She would have license to fear me then…No, I cannot. Though it is a most fitting name…No! No, something else will just have to do.”
The creature searched the room for some kind of inspiration. But no matter how hard he tried he could find nothing to suit him. “This space! It is not meant for thinking! There is not enough room here for my thoughts to stretch! How I long for the fields near Ingolstadt. I could think then! The fields of grass my carpet, the flowers my bed, the Moon…oh the sweet solitary Moon. She was my light. I need air!” Without hesitation, he grabbed his cloak and was out the door, heading to the world above.
After a few minutes of silence, after she knew he had gone for good, Christine rose from her hiding place. ‘Oh, that poor soul’ she thought, ‘To not have a name. But what was he speaking of? Being created? What does it all mean? Is this a dream? Or a nightmare coming true? And what name shall he receive out there in the night? Though, I am sure that any name would be better than…’She couldn’t even bring herself to think it. It was just too horrid. She did not know how long her Ang—…the man would be, but she knew that standing in his study thinking was probably not the best idea. Christine gathered her skirts and made her way back to the bedroom as silently as she could.
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Like I said rough…right?
I need honest opinions here. This is a rough excerpt of a fan fiction that I hopping to start really writing soon. It is the Frankenstein/Phantom of the Opera crossover I mentioned a day or so ago. The basic synopsis is that Erik is the Creature and, after Frankenstein’s death, he travels the world looking for a purpose and someone to accept him for who he is. This piece is from (roughly) chapter seven where the Creature is trying to find a name to give to Christine. (No, I haven’t written that far yet, that is just where I started). Please enjoy and give me feed back.
———————————————————————————-
‘My name? She wants to know my name? Why would such something as insignificant as a name be so important? Will “Angel” not do?’ The Creature continued to pace around his study, trying with all his might to come up with a name. But not just any name. ‘This name must mean something, I cannot just spout something out! This name must be great!’ So he continued to think, shouting aloud names of important men.
“Henry! No, too much blood on his hands. I do not want my beautiful Christine to know of the blood that is on mine. Louie? No, it sounds…frilly…that also will not do.” He paused for a moment, when another name came to his mind. “Do I dare? Adam. It fits, but do I dare compare myself to something that was created in beauty? Though, like Adam, I was created from nothing, he had a purpose. A mission. His master made him like Himself. Adam was made in the open, was made to be a king of the Earth! And what was I made for? For a ‘genius’s’ folly. He made me because he could! I have no purpose, and I am a king of nothing but my own world of darkness…like Satan…like Lucifer…” He paused again in his speech. He stood still, in deep thought. As he turned it over and over again in his mind it became more and more clear. “I am Lucifer. King of darkness! Master of my own fate!”
Suddenly a sound came from behind him. The Creature turned quickly to see the source, but saw nothing in the darkness. ‘Perhaps a sheet of music falling to the floor.’ He stared for a moment longer, but his thoughts were too great to suppress. He continued on. “If I tell Christine that I am Lucifer…what will she think then. I am not an Angel, but the Devil himself? She would have license to fear me then…No, I cannot. Though it is a most fitting name…No! No, something else will just have to do.”
The creature searched the room for some kind of inspiration. But no matter how hard he tried he could find nothing to suit him. “This space! It is not meant for thinking! There is not enough room here for my thoughts to stretch! How I long for the fields near Ingolstadt. I could think then! The fields of grass my carpet, the flowers my bed, the Moon…oh the sweet solitary Moon. She was my light. I need air!” Without hesitation, he grabbed his cloak and was out the door, heading to the world above.
After a few minutes of silence, after she knew he had gone for good, Christine rose from her hiding place. ‘Oh, that poor soul’ she thought, ‘To not have a name. But what was he speaking of? Being created? What does it all mean? Is this a dream? Or a nightmare coming true? And what name shall he receive out there in the night? Though, I am sure that any name would be better than…’ She couldn’t even bring herself to think it. It was just too horrid. She did not know how long her Ang—…the man would be, but she knew that standing in his study thinking was probably not the best idea. Christine gathered her skirts and made her way back to the bedroom as silently as she could.
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Like I said rough…right?
According to a video I just watched every time I hear the characters of my stories talking in my head I MUST be hearing the spirits of the devil. Clearly.
Where do people get these insane ideas from anyway. It’s called an over abundance of creativity. Sometimes you have something in your mind and it will keep bothering you, and keep bothering you, until you write it out.
It happened to me a couple of nights ago when I went and saw Frankenstein. I saw in my mind a crossover of Frankenstein and the Phantom of the Opera. I couldn’t sleep until I wrote out the plot line.
Clearly demons were speaking to me.
Clearly.
Idiots.
Here’s the link
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQtkL3aHiUs&sns=em
