#west end

It Only Takes a Taste (From Waitress) - Katharine McPhee & David Hunter

Review: The Bodyguard, the musical

In 1992, Rachael Marron was brought to life as one of the most iconic divas on the silver screen in the 90s by, funnily enough, one of the world’s most iconic divas of all time – Whitney Houston. “The Bodyguard” was a huge commercial success, grossing over US$400 million worldwide and its soundtrack became the biggest-selling of all time, with over 45 million copies sold. Then, since 2012, not…

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Boleyn says her final ‘beheaded’ whilst Parr is walking behind… 

They defo high five 

(just sayin’)

Patti LuPone’s vibrato in Gypsy is simply god tier

I can’t stop thinking about how Funny Girl and Chicago are set in the same time period and Nick Arnstein sings to Fanny “You are woman, I am man, you are smaller, so I can be taller than”

And then Roxie Hart sings about her husband in Chicago, “I can’t stand that sap, look at him go, rattin’ on me, with just one more brain, what a half-wit he’d be”

One of them talks about how women are smaller and softer than men and the other is about how stupid men are! In the same time period!! ICONIC!!!!

What’s a song from a musical that made you fall in love with broadway all over again??

Mine is Journey To The Past from Anastasia.

By the time help had arrived, Gustave had fallen asleep, exhausted from the emotional turmoil he had just witnessed. Erik held him on his front as he stood and stared at Christine’s body in the distance and suddenly felt very cold. His flesh pricked and a chill ran down his spine. He realised that he still hadn’t got used to the sight of corpses, even after his bloody time in Persia after those pointless, haunting murders he committed. It felt very strange to be carrying such a innocent boy with such bloodied hands and he didn’t know how he’d cope looking after such a responsibility. Erik worked best alone and sadly had gotten used to being in solitude as well. 

He heard footsteps rushing behind him and he turned to see the resident Doctor, Tristan Hugh and his assitant hurrying along with a stretcher carried between them. Following behind were two plain clothed police officers, who he had commissioned to look out for trouble in his park, and his associate and business partner, Nadir Khan. The latter looked particularly flushed as he caught up with the group and stopped dead when he saw the corpse in the distance. He immediately looked at Erik, seeking answers, but Erik only stared back blankly. Nadir looked again at the corpse and paled, realising who the body belonged to and swallowed thickly.

“Mr Duvant, I am so sorry, I tried to be as quick as possible-” Dr Tristan spluttered before Erik interrupted him.

“It’s alright, Doctor. I’m afraid…” Erik couldn’t help but sigh before continuing on, “I’m afraid it was a lost cause. She is down there. See to her if you could and please, treat her with the upmost respect.” The Doctor nodded and hurried his assistant down the jetty were he met a despondent Meg still wailing into the night. He then turned to the police officers who regarded him warily. It was fortunate he had replaced his mask and wig for he would not be able to easily intimidate them as he could. 

“Could you please tell us what happened, Mr Duvant?” The shorter of the two started, flipping out his notebook and poised a pencil on the paper. Erik looked at him stonily, and the other officer coughed awkwardly. 

“A very unfortunate accident, Mr Ruble. A faulty gun with a jumpy trigger. It shouldn’t have ever happened. I tried to stop it, but I was too slow.” 

“Was it you holding the gun, Sir?” Erik shifted the boy in his arms and gritted his teeth.

“No.” 

“So who was-” Erik jumped in, using a voice he hadn’t used since Paris. The Opera Ghost resurrected himself once more and the two police officers shrank back at his dark look.

“Listen, gentleman, I am in no mood to be cross examined. If you would care to come by my apartment tomorrow, I’d be very happy to elaborate and tell you. But for now if you could leave, that would be very helpful, as I have other matters to attend to. Unless, of course, you’d like me to inform your Commissioner what you get up to in your spare time.” The two men exchanged panicked looks and nodded quickly.

“Of course, Mr Duvant. We will drop by tomorrow for a full report.” The pair turned away on their heels and disappeared into the night. 

“I haven’t heard that voice since Paris, Erik.” Nadir said warily.

“Sometimes I have to use it. I do not have the energy to tell them what happened in detail. I… I can’t do it. Not yet.” He sighed heavily, closing his eyes in attempt to stop his tears from falling again. 

“Erik I am so, so,sorry.” He placed his hand on Erik’s arm, but knew his friend would never be the same again. The masked man nodded and yet still smiled, albeit a little sadly.

“She hasn’t left me alone, though. Nadir… This…” He paused, before looking at Nadir straight in the eye, “This is my son.” 

The Persian man stared at him wide eyed, then laughed, then stopped abruptly when he saw Erik was being fully sincere and looked at the boy who was currently asleep with his arms wrapped around Erik’s neck.

“Excuse me?” Was all he could squeak out and Erik, despite the situation, actually chuckled softly.  

“I know. I know. But, it’s true. Gustave is my son.” Nadir looked at him expectantly, waiting for more details and Erik gave them reluctantly, “Before we left for America, she sought me out, figured out where I would be. We made love and in the morning I left. I knew it was the right thing to do. She deserved a great life, full of prosperity, not one of struggle and doubt with me. Little did I know she fell pregnant with my child. She’s raised him practically alone. It’s my turn now.” Nadir looked at the young boy, scrutinising his appearance and stared at Erik doubtfully. “I know it’s hard to believe but if you push back his fringe and look at his forehead, you’ll know it is true.” 

Nadir did as he said and gasped when he saw the puckered bit of skin, so similar to part of Erik’s deformity that he had seen many times before. 

“By Allah…” Was all he could say and at his touch, Gustave blearily opened his eyes and peered at Nadir in confusion. The eyes in which Nadir looked mirrored that of his friend and it almost made him stagger back into the sea. 

“What..?” Gustave mumbled, before Erik shushed him gently and bid him to return to his slumber. It didn’t take much for the boy to fall back asleep, especially when Erik started rocking softly side to side. 

“Erik… I… What are you going to do?” 

“I have no idea. All I know is that I want the boy to stay with me. I just don’t know how I am going to achieve that-” 

They were disrupted by a sharp cry and turned to see Meg face down on the jetty, shuddering with sobs. Christine had been transferred to a stretcher and was covered by a starch white blanket. The Doctor and his assistant started to solemnly carry her back to the horse and carriage that awaited them on land and Nadir stood to Erik’s side, grasping his shoulder as she went by. Only Nadir watched as she was loaded into the back, whilst Erik buried his head into Gustave’s hair and refused to look. It was a final reminder for him that he could not take.

“Please,” he said muffled and Nadir waited for his request, “Deal with Mademoiselle Giry. I’m going to take Gustave back to my apartment so he can properly rest.” 

“Of course.” Nadir started to leave, but turned back and grasped Erik’s shoulder again. “We will sort this out, Erik. I will try my best.” Erik nodded gratefully and waited until Nadir was by Meg’s side before taking his leave. 

Through the park he wondered alone with Gustave, everyone having been sent away or told to stay indoors. He located his apartment on autopilot, completely oblivious to the world around him as his brain formulated idea after idea on how to keep Gustave with him. He opened the door and locked it behind him, suddenly shrinking in on himself and swallowing back a huge sob as he carried Gustave to his bed and lay him down on the covers. He removed his shoes and covered him with a big blanket, before taking a seat in the armchair in the corner of the room and cried himself silently to sleep.  

A corpse. 

His wonderful, beautiful Christine was now just a corpse. He could barely look at the limp form of his muse, as the blood from the shot flowered across the white linen of her dress. Ironically it had bled into the shape of a rose, the same colour as the ones he had given to her all those years ago when she was alive and triumphant. 

He lay her body down gently on the cold, damp wood of the jetty, supporting her head so that it did not knock harshly against the surface. As he crossed her arms over her chest, barely suppressing the tears that pressed against his eyes, he heard footsteps and looked up into the gloom. 

It was Meg. She looked distraught and wild, her hands still shaking from what she had done. 

“No….No!”Brushing past him, she sat by Christine’s head and cradled it in her lap, pushing away the strands of hair. “No… Christine… What have I done?” She sobbed, allowing her tears to flow freely. Erik stared at her, numb. Reaching up to the clasp around his throat, he undid it and handed Meg his cloak, getting up from his knees.

“Here.” He said, voice rough and thick. Meg accepted it with a trembling hand, laying it over the body she held as if she were tucking up her babe. 

“I am so sorry.” She sobbed, brushing her thumb against Christine’s still warm cheek. Erik did not respond. He didn’t know who she was talking to. Instead, he walked further away, sick to the stomach, his mask pressing uncomfortably against his face. He didn’t even see Gustave, who was tentatively making his way back until he was only a few feet away. Erik stopped where he stood, cocking his head as Gustave got closer and peered up at him through eyes glazed with tears. 

“Is she…?” Again Erik, did not speak, merely shifted his body so that he could see Meg cradling his mother as she lay unresponsive and limp. But Gustave had already known from the moment he saw the blood bloom on her shirt what the outcome would be. He choked down a sob, brushing his tears harshly away as he looked at this man… his father… who stared back at him blankly. It was like there was no one there. He didn’t know what to say so instead he reached for his fathers hand and grasped it. That seemed to jolt him out of his state as he looked down in wonderment at their entwined hands, then at the boy. He took in a shuddering breath and sat down on the edge of the jetty, bidding Gustave to do the same. They looked across the eerily calm ocean and at the moon who cast her perfect, shimmering form across the surface. 

“I’m sorry that… that you found out like this. That I am your father.” Still holding hands, Gustave peered up and was met by a cold, white mask that was completely emotionless and hard for him to look at. He no longer wanted to see this… thing… that hid his father. His mother had taught him a wise lesson. Look with the heart and not with the eyes. It was time for him to do so. Reaching up with his free hand, he rested his hand against the mask and curled his fingers under the seamless lip that almost seemed to melt in with his fathers face. Erik jerked away and glared at him warningly, softening when he saw the quiet determination in his eyes that reminded him of Christine.  

“Gustave… Is this truly what you want?” The innocent boy nodded, withdrawing his hand as his father reached up and pulled away his mask and wig slowly, turning away almost immediately to place them on the ground next  to him. He was stalling. Gustave touched his arm, felt the hard, sinewy muscle underneath and beseeched him to look his way as he tugged gently. Erik let out another quivering sigh and turned haltingly until the ravaged side of his face was in full view, not even daring to watch his sons reaction. Instead he stared and stared at the moon, now allowing the tears to run freely down his cheeks. He had had enough of holding them in. 

Erik gasped when he felt a little hand brush his ravaged cheek, then cupped it, before it explored the rest of his deformity. He looked then, curious to know his reaction and was surprised to see acceptance as the hand crawled up further and brushed his non existent eyebrow. What he didn’t expect was for the boy to suddenly crawl into his lap, wrapping his arms tight around his torso and resting his head against his chest. Stunned, Erik sat with his arms rigid at the side, knowing the boy could hear the erratic thumping of his heart before he came to his senses and hesitantly wrapped his arms back around him. When he felt the boys tears wet his shirt, he rocked his son ever so gently side to side and rubbed his back soothingly. It felt good, albeit a little strange for him. They sat in silence like this for a while, until Gustave pulled back a little and inspected him again. 

“I’m… I’m glad that I found out by the way. I’ve always felt a little different, a little odd and I never knew why.” He laughed softly, “I guess it all makes sense now.” 

Erik dared to brush the hair out his sons eyes and cocked his head in curiosity.

“What do you mean?” He watched as his son reached up to his hairline and pushed back his fringe, revealing a small puckered bit of skin that zigzagged back through his hair. Proof that Erik lived in him. A blemish of his own. 

“I was born with this. My father… Well, my other father… he was really angry apparently. I know because I overheard him when I was a little bit older talking about it, throwing accusations against mother. She always held steadfast that I was his son. But I knew… I knew something wasn’t right. The way I looked, my eyes…” Again he studied his father’s face and grinned, “I have your eyes. Then it was the love of music. Father accepted that because of mother but the other things… The love for weird, unnatural things… He didn’t accept that one bit. I guess he always knew.” Erik brushed back his hairline again, touching the blemish gently. 

“I’m sorry that… That I wasn’t there for you. It must’ve been very confusing growing up. Especially with a little bit of me in you.” He joked, though it sounded hollow. 

“A lot of you. I realise now how similar I am to you.” Gustave rested his head back on his father’s chest. “But… I’m happy I finally understand everything now. Yet… What happens now?” 

“Well… You’ll probably have to go back to Paris with your father. As for your mother I don’t know-” His voice broke and he bit the inside of his lip as he stared out across the ocean, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“You loved her, didn’t you?” Erik nodded and sighed. 

“More than anything.”

“I think… I think she loved you to. This will sound odd but she always told me about this character called ‘The Angel of Music’ and how he saved her life when she was at the opera house. Was… Was that you?” 

“I… Well it’s a long story but yes, it was.” Erik murmured, stunned that Christine had disguised their time at the opera house as childhood stories for their son. He felt Gustave nod against his chest and when he spoke again, it truly shocked him.

“Do you think I could stay here with you? I don’t want to go back to Paris.” 

“I… You’d really want that? To stay with me? Gustave… I’d love nothing more. I’ve already missed ten years of your life and I don’t want to miss any more. But you must understand, I don’t really have any say in this. It’s down to your other father and I know he will be very against the idea.” 

“But if I beg him?” 

“We will see what we can do. For now… Let’s just savour the moments we can have together.” 

They remained sitting there, on the edge of the jetty, son in his fathers lap as they gazed across the ocean. Both of them were hurting, their hearts raw but it was relief to both that they had each other and they clung to each other like lifelines. It seemed that Gustave did not want to let go and Erik was fine with this, for the shock he still felt after Christine’s death still rocked him to the core. In fact, he was still half convinced that she still lived but the other, more stern half berated him and told him that she was dead. Still, at least he hand tangible proof that something of her, something of them,was here and he knew that he would never let go of this blessing again. 

Yes they finally did a Phantom themed buzzfeed quiz… here is the link for you all!
https://www.buzzfeed.com/maggles/which-phantom-of-the-opera-character-are-you-1g4pl?origin=nofil&utm_term=.vrqNYpbGyx#.nqDA0bQDoV

Guess who I got…?

The Phantom

Leave you who got in the tags!

Guys I’m going to see the Palais Garnier today and words cannot describe how excited I am

My future husband better be able to put up with my obsession with Phantom of the Opera i think to myself as i cry for the hundredth time listening to the soundtrack 

does anyone else try and sing all three parts to ‘a heart full of love’? or is it just me? 

An idea for the first chapter of a new story. Erik lives in America on Coney Island but doesn’t remember anything about who he used to be. More details to follow but wanted to know what you guys thought so far for an opening chapter? 

The coarse sand beneath him was damp and slowly soaking into his trousers, but he did not care. He had grown used to the sensation now as he had been coming here every morning before sunrise for five years. Come rain or shine, the solitary figure would sit with the sentinels of dawn and wait for the world to wake. The man, who was called Erik, did not know why he felt compelled to come here every morning… Perhaps it was down to how it seemed to soothe his whirl wind of a mind or maybe… Maybe it was because that he felt like this was something forbidden for him, to enjoy something as beautiful as the rising sun that had just began to crest the horizon.  The sky then turned into a spectrum of colour as the pearly mist that had lingered over the sea was penetrated by the warm, persimmon light of the sun. Golden hues bled like fire, scattering and stretching across the vast expanse of water and made the twilight hues vanish in a blink. A light breeze picked up and caressed his bare face as his mask sat haphazardly in the sand. Erik sighed happily at its touch and allowed himself to bask in the weak warmth as a shard of sunlight exploded over his body. Silence emanated around him, the only sound being the gentle lapping of the waves over the pock holed rock pools in front of him. 

The sky grew stronger in colour as streaks of tangerine and pink unfurled themselves across the haziness and Erik found himself wishing that time would stop. This moment always gave him great peace and dulled the aching lump of mass that thumped wearily away behind his rib cage. Erik hadn’t quite felt the same ever since he had woken up from a terrible accident seven years ago, and didn’t know who he was. It had taken a lot of time and patience for him to gain some semblance of who he was and eventually, some of his memories did return. His long, sordid childhood was the first thing to come flooding back to him and he didn’t talk to anyone for weeks, not even his constant companion, Nadir. The second thing that reminded him of who he used to be was his time spent in Persia, though even that was foggy in places. Anything after that however… He had no idea. Nadir had only told him that he had lived in Paris, and that was that. He seemed intent not to remind Erik of who he used to be and Erik only grew more bewildered as to why. 

The ache in his body grew stronger and the moment of peace passed by. Suddenly, birdsong exploded around him in a cacophonous melody and he flinched at the shrillness. The sun was now too high, the birds too loud and the world behind him burst into life just as he and the sentinels of dawn had found peace. How ironic, that the world was wide awake and yet deep down, he was fast asleep, a vast chapter of his life locked away. As the sun began to swell, he lost his focus and instead stared across the vast emptiness of the ocean and wondered about the life he had left behind. A dull hollowness ached in his bones as he grew more agitated, annoyed that he had allowed himself to become so despondent when for once he was at peace. He a frustrated grunt, he swiped up the mask and grabbed his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder. The mask felt heavy in his hand and he stared at in anger. Again, that was one thing he remembered almost immediately. He wondered if he would ever forget about the monstrosity that claimed most of his face. Erik toyed with the object, half tempted to through it into the ocean but instead, he shook off any remaining sand and placed it over his face. 

Suddenly, everything seemed dimmer, even if the sun was a brilliant gold ball in the sky. He felt lost. Lost in world that was so familiar and yet foreign to him and he yearned to know more about the almost non existent life he had left behind. Instead, he now got up from his position and walked towards the life he had fabricated for himself. A world that he had created for people like him to live and perform without any infliction of cruelty, his home. 

A place where he didn’t feel like he truly belonged. 

If the answer if yes to the previous question on my blog, then go ahead and send me some prompts! Thanks guys :) 

Would anyone be interested if I posted little short stories of E&C now and then? Happy for you guys to send prompts but was just wondering if this was something you’d like?

anyone else crumble when in the 25th anniversary version of phantom you hear Phantom whisper “I love you” under his breath when Christine walks away with Raoul? In the Down Once More scene? Because I crumble every damn time. MY HEART.

Erik didn’t want to have kids. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them or he couldn’t, it was something that he did not want in his life to worry about. Especially if it was born with his face. 

And then, the child was born, on a stormy October night with the wind howling through the nooks and crannies of the house. It battered the shutters, guttered the candles that he had lit on any flat surface he could find as Christine writhed in agony. It was painful to watch, painful to sit next to her helpless. 

It was a difficult birth and when it was over, it was as if the world had gone still. The midwife cleaned up, was payed for her silence, wrapped the baby in swathes of blankets and thrust it into the stiff arms of Erik before she left. It was as if she took any normality left of their life with her. Erik felt the warmth squirm in his arms, wriggle this way and that but he didn’t dare look at it. His eyes remained trained on Christine who lay in a languid stupor, looking at him blearily.

“Well, Erik… What is it?” She asked, overwhelmed by the whole affair. 

“I…. I don’t know.” Christine reached out her arms and he all too gladly handed it over, his eyes never resting on it’s face. Manoeuvring the baby in her arms, she peeked under the blankets and smiled, looking at Erik only to met by a blank emotion his eyes. She knew all to well what he was avoiding and gently pushed the blankets out of its face. 

“Oh…” Was all she could say, as she stared down at it. Erik felt his hot tears trail down his cheek, crestfallen by her voice.

“Is it… Ugly? Is it like me?” She looked up at him, smiling sweetly. 

“If it was?” 

“Then I’ve damned you both.” He murmured, resting his head in his hands, letting the tears flow freely. 

“Take off your mask, Erik.” She commanded gently, and he obliged, too full of anguish to object. “Look at me.” Slowly, he looked up, and choked at the love that swam in her eyes. “He has your eyes.” He dared to peek down, but quickly averted his gaze until Christine reached for his hand and brought it down to rest on the babies chest. “Look at our son, Erik.” 

It took Erik every ounce of his courage to dare look at his son and when he did, he let out a choked sob. There was not a blemish on his face and sure enough it was his eyes, staring back at him curiously, those amber orbs so full of wonder already. 

“H-Hello.” He whispered, stroking the babies fat little cheek. A chubby hand poked out and grasped at the finger, a vice like grip that refused to let go. The eyes never left Erik’s face but for once in his life, he found himself unable to care. Let his son look upon his face. Let him see the kind of father he had. 

“I think he likes you.” Christine laughed, watching how their son stared at his father in curiosity. 

“He has your face.” Said Erik and she laughed again, patting the empty space next to her. It was long until she was resting against his shoulder, the both of them looking down at their son. “What would you like to call him, my love?”

“What we agreed on. James Gustave Destler.” Christine announced, before looking at him for approval. Erik smiled and stroked his cheek. 

“My little James” He bent down to whisper in his ear, “I will make sure that no one ever hurts you. I will make sure that you live a life of a wonder. I will make sure that your future is bright. You are me and more, James. Me and more.” 

Hi guys, 

Just wanted to say that if you ever happen to be reading a story on fanfiction.net and have thoughts about it please PLEASE leave a review. Us writers love to read your comments, it helps us with the story and also makes us feel good. There is nothing worse than putting so much effort into a chapter for it to go by unnoticed. Makes us think you guys don’t like it! Remember, we’re writing to make you happy!! 

Thank you :) 

It strange for Nadir to see his ‘friend’, if you could him such after the harassment he had received this week past from him, look sick to the stomach and jittery with nerves. Whilst Nadir condoned the whole affair and made sure Erik knew this, he still tried to help him in anyway possible. If it would make Christine’s life easier, then he would try for her sake.

It had been almost funny to see how Erik and Christine’s roles had reversed, as if she had adjusted to new future without any hindrance. If anything, she walked around with a pinched forehead as she was constantly in thought, ignoring Raoul and confiding in her surrogate mother, Madame Giry. Erik on the other hand, did not know what to do with himself. He had been well adjusted to a life of solitude. He had not thought Christine would take his proposal so seriously, and whilst annoyed that she was doing it out for love for Raoul, he would take whatever chance he could take. It was only when Nadir was scrutinising the set of rings in his wide palm did he really panic.

“Oh my lord, what have I done?”  Nadir jerked his head up at the panic in Erik’s voice, staring at him in surprise.

“What do you mean?” He watched, agitated, as Erik paced manically in front of him, the tails of his jacket fluttering behind him. A top hat rested on the table beside him, a stemless red rose sitting on the rim and Erik grabbed it, pinching the rim as he got lost in thought. “Erik, what do you mean?” Nadir repeated, placing the rings back in their velveteen box. He was glad to put them away. They had felt like cold, dead weights in his hand as if their story was a tragic one.

“Why am I such a monster? To put her through this… with me?” He said, almost whispering.

“I must say, this is a change of heart.”

“Mother said I’d die alone. She was right. I cannot do this to Christine but every time I look at her… Oh I just want her so desperately.” He moaned, as if in pain, and sank into the nearest seat available. “What have I done?” Despite the anguish, Nadir smiled and wondered over, placing a hand on Erik’s bony shoulder.

“I am glad to see the Erik I know back with us. I was afraid you’d be stuck in that manic mood forever. You can tell her when she arrives that she no longer has to go through with this.”

“But… I love her.” Erik muttered, eyeing the ring box that Nadir still held in his hand.

“I know but… Sometimes we have to let the ones that we love go. Christine does not love you. It wouldn’t be fair on her.” Nadir said gently, feeling very much like an old, wise man.

“Erik never gets what he wants.” Erik murmured sulkily and Nadir tutted at the statement.

“Please don’t start talking in third person again, you know it sets me on edge.” Erik rolled his eyes but before he could say anything, a stern cough interrupted him and both men looked to see Christine in the gown Erik had made with a very concerned Madame Giry at her side.

“Gentlemen.” She said snidely, Christine’s hand gripping the crook of her arm.

“Oh God…” Was all Erik could say.