Describe Vs Explain

You’ve probably heard “show don’t tell”. This is another way of phrasing that. And a lot of writers have found that it clicks better. ☺️

Describe don’t explain!

Who’d chose to be the Chosen One?

Meet Erin Parr, a non-practicing witch. She’s 39 years old with three kids and a husband, and she hasn’t had a paid job in her whole life. And it doesn’t look like anyone is going to pay her for her new job either: saving the world.

When she first hears about the Prophecy, no one believes in her less than herself (though there’s some pretty stiff competition), but someone needs to roll up their sleeves and get the job done, and it’s usually her.

The year is 1961 and Erin must go on an epic roadtrip in a rundown Morris Minor with a cranky community nurse, a professor with more bravado than sense and two university students with a lot to prove and more to hide.

Phantom Of The Opera: Chapter One

(Technoblade x Reader x Wilbur)

Welcome to the Phantom of the Opera Au, I hope you enjoy my lost souls. I know it’s been a while but I hope this makes up for my absence.

Here is the link to the musical if anyone is interested
~~~

Paris was always beautiful in the winter, at least it was to Wilbur, he liked the warm sweaters and the light snow that littered the ground beneath his feet. Wilbur let out a small sigh and watched as fog formed in the air in front of his mouth. He stood outside the old opera house and ran a hand through his brown hair that had long since been streaked with grey. It was only when the snow started to cause the curls on his head to stick to his forehead that he finally entered the old opera house. Once inside he was greeted like an old friend and was quickly rushed to the auctioneer’s room. There weren’t many people in the room, maybe around four or five, but every one of them seemed to be staring right into Wilbur’s soul. The moment passed, and Wilbur took his seat and waited. The things being bid were frivolous to him, he was only there for one thing and one thing only. Wilbur sat there for a few hours until he saw it, a small paper-mache music box. This box was the exact one his lover often spoke of, the one in the shape of a barrel organ with a figure of money playing symbols attached to the lid. The auctioneer continued to speak about the box, he stated that it was discovered in the vaults of the theatre and the music box was still in working order. The bid started at fifteen francs but Wilbur purchased it for thirty, there was only one other man bidding on the old box. Once it was in his grasp; Wilbur’s fingers began to trace over the velvet piece of the box. He was seemingly lost in the memories of what the box had brought onto his life and his lovers. Wilbur’s head shot up as the next antique being sold was announced, it was a broken chandelier. Wilbur felt his throat go tight and his ears began to ring getting lost in the booming voice of the auctioneer around him. 

“Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera: a mystery never fully explained. We are told ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier that appears in the famous disaster. Our workshops have restored it and fitted up parts of it with wiring for the new electric light, so that we may get a hint of what it may look like when re-assembled. Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little Illumination…” 

It all seemed to start with a production of Chalumeau’s Hannibal, the lead of the show was none other than one of the most famous opera singers of the time George Guidicelli. He was talented, anyone with ears could see that the only problem was he was a primadonna in every sense of the word. No one would dare call him out on it, they needed to be careful of his wrathful nature for no one wanted to be on the receiving end of George’s fury. The Opera House was in the process of switching owners, even midway through a production two men were overtaking the role of managers. Their names were odd and referred to themselves as Schlatt and Quackity. The two newcomers were immediately scolded for getting in the way of all the ballet dancers by an older gentleman named Phil. Schlatt had scoffed at that insinuation calling Phil an old crow rather rudely which caused him to ‘accidentally’ get hit in the back of the legs with Phil’s cane. As they watched the dancing continue, the old owner hummed in distaste as a young boy with blonde hair become prominent among the ballet dancers. 

“Who’s the kid?” Schlatt grumbled an eyebrow shooting upon his forehead the old owner chuckled softly watching the boy spin with an odd sort of grace.

“Him? That’s Tommy, Phil’s son, he’s one of our most promising dancers.”

The three watched as another dancer was brought into the spotlight, she had (h/c) hair that was curled gracefully, and had a faraway look in her eyes. The men jolted watching as Phil slammed his cane harshly on the old floor of the stage. 

“You! (Y/n) Daae! Concentrate, girl!”

“Daae? Curious name.” Quackity murmured rubbing his chin thoughtfully, 

“Swedish.” The old owner commented with an uncaring shrug,

“Any relation to the violinist?” Schlatt grunted sharp eyes taking in her figure almost hungrily.

“His daughter actually. It’s a shame she always has her head in the clouds. She would have much more promise if she could remain focused.” The rehearsal ended sometime later and the old owner clapped both men on the back marching them towards the center stage and introducing them to the cast. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? As you know, for some weeks there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these were all true and it is my pleasure to introduce to you the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire, Quackity and Schlatt. Mr. Soot will be here sometime later to introduce himself, unfortunately, the train is running late. For now, gentlemen this is Signor George Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons now.” Both men watched as George made his way towards them all beady-eyed and prideful. Schlatt made a subtle face of displeasure as Quackity began to prattle on about how much he loved him in his other performances, thoroughly kissing his ass. It’s what Quackity was good for…ass-kissing. 

“We would be honored if you could give us a rendition of one of the opening songs in Hannibal? Just as a little sneak peek.” Quackitly smiled eyes lighting up,

Geroge flushed, the apples of his cheeks turning red and smiling like he had been expecting this outcome since the very beginning. He pushed his way towards the center stage and began to sing one of his opening numbers, it was by all means wonderful. Schlatt glanced at his partner and knew if they could keep George he would be able to bring in a ton of money for them and the opera house. However, the attitude changed when the backdrop of the scene shattered onto the ground sending fragments all over the stage. The girls screamed and Schlatt saw Tommy grab onto (Y/n)’s arm, and harshly whispered: 

“He’s here: the Phantom of the Opera. He is with us! It’s the ghost!” A mischievous smile was etched into his face and the woman clicked her tongue scolding him softly. George was still screaming as Quackity was trying frantically to calm her down, Schlatt approached them calmly holding out his hands.

“Now, now George, these things do happen-” Schlatt was cut off rather harshly by the primadonna’s temper, 

“Si! These things do happen! Well, until you stop these things happening, this thing does not happen!” He pointed harshly at himself eyes blazing with ferocious fire, “amateurs!” He spat, hiking up his dress pants and marching off the sage his husband following behind him. Quackity looked rather worried but Schlatt only scoffed, 

“He’ll be back.” 

“You think so mate?” Phil raised a brow standing in between the two men both of them looked up at the blonde male. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a faded white letter, it was pressed closed with red wax, and the seal was a boar’s head. “I have a message from the opera ghost.” 

“Jesus Christ they’re obsessed…” Quackity mumbled to Schlatt under his breath, 

“He welcomes you to his opera house and commands you to continue to Box Five empty for his use and he wants to remind you his salary is due.” 

“Salary?” Schlatt choked snatching the letter out of Phil’s hands, only now seeming concerned about the ghost, Phil only raised his blue eyes. 

“Monsieur Lefevre paid him twenty thousand francs a month. Perhaps you can afford more, with the Vicomte de Soot as your patron.” He grunted, and Quackity made a displeased face, 

“I wanted to make that announcement…” 

“Calm your tits Quackity,” Schlatt grunted in response, and his friend pouted. “Yeah Wilbur’s comin’ he’ll sit in our box.” Schlatt rubbed his stubble thoughtfully, “We got an understudy for George?” 

“No one…” a choir boy with a mask cleared his throat fiddling with fingers, “the production is new so there wasn’t an understudy cast.” 

“Fuck.” 

“(Y/n) Daae could do it.” The blonde choir boy shot his hands in the air and said girl let out a nervous call of his name. She grasped his arm tight over at him he only smile cheekily in response. “She’s been having private lessons from an amazing teacher!” 

“Who?” Quackity raised a brow staring at the young woman, 

“I…don’t know…sir.” He caught her looking around uneasily, and it caused Quackity to look nervous as well. 

“Oh f- not you too.” Schlatt groaned, “I can’t believe this is a full house and we’re gonna have to cancel. All that money…fuckin’ wasted.”

“Let her sing.” Phil hummed softly a hand pressed to the young woman’s back, “give her a chance to impress you mate.”

“Fine.” Schlatt grunted, “from the beginning again.” 

—

The stage lights were brighter than you could’ve imagined, and the crowd roared as the orchestra began to swell. There you were in the middle of the stage, you took a breath and began to sing, it’s a sweet melody that seemed to cause the audience to go quiet in an instant, 

“Think of me…” 

Your voice was crisp and clear and carried over the audience instantly captivating them all, from Box Four sat Wilbur Soot. His brown eyes twinkled in the stage lights as he found himself captivated by your beauty and voice. You had a familiar beauty to you that made his heart squeeze in yearning. You had such a cute nose and the confidence you held when you sang was nothing to scoff at, he breathed out a disbelieving laugh, 

“Can it be? Can it be (Y/n)? Bravo!” He clapped laughing louder this time standing up in his seat, “What a change! You’re really not a bit the gawkish girl that once you were… She may not remember me, but I remember her…” He sat back down slumping in it in disbelief, god you were stunning in that dress. It framed your body just perfectly as he let your siren-like voice drag him under. 

The curtains closed around you and that’s when you finally were able to take in a big breath of air, relief filled your lungs before Tommy crashed into your body. He was speaking a mile a minute only making out a few words, he was praising you that much was clear. Phil walked over and stood in front of the both of you, a smile appearing on his face, “You did well. He will be pleased with your performance.” Phil mused giving you a soft pat on the head before eyeing down Tommy and the other dances, “You all, however, were disgraceful!” Phil pulled Tommy off you and began to chew out the other dancers, Tommy wasn’t listening much more inclined to follow you to your dressing room. You seemed lost to him, acting out of character, and if Phil noticed him slip away the man said nothing in response. Your hand touched the knob on the door to the dressing room and stilled a voice, gruff and deep, echoed around the room,

“Bravi, bravi, bravissimi…” A shiver racked down your spine, it wasn’t an unpleasant one however and you turned around to try to face the figure. Instead of seeing the figure who was praising you, Tommy came running down the stairs. He crossed his arms with a scoff, 

“You think you’re too good for me now is that it?” There was a teasing edge to his tone, “you get the lead and now you disappear on us huh? Well…this is where you’re hiding huh?” His nose scrunched up noticing a few stary cobwebs, “you know I don’t say this often…but you were seriously perfect tonight.” His face softened considerably as he took your hands within his own, “Who is your new tutor?”

Tommy watched as a sad smile spread across your cheeks, you looked far away eyes glassily, hazed over with something Tommy couldn’t quite pinpoint. “My father once spoke of an angel, I used to dream he’d appear to me one day when I sing…I feel like I can sense it and I know he’s there.” You took in a shaky breath a dazed smile spreading across your lips and Tommy frowned worryingly, “like for example in this room he’s calling me softly. He’s somewhere inside hiding I just know he is, the genius is always with me.” You cupped your hands to your chest in awe meanwhile Tommy was staring at you bewilderedly. 

“(Y/n) you must have been dreaming. Shit like that can’t come true, you’re not one to speak of ghosts or phantoms. It’s just not like you.” Tommy grabbed your hands, and you shivered underneath his touch. 

“He’s with me even now…all around.” 

“Your face it’s pale…”

“It frightens me.” 

“Don’t be frightened.” 

Both of them jumped at the sound of a cane pounding on the stone steps and Tommy visibly flinched. “Did you skip out on practice?” You breathed and Tommy smiled sheepishly as he heard Phil’s voice shout his name. “Go Tommy, you’ll get in trouble,” you shooed him away and he left, but not without a moment’s hesitation. Once he officially left you turned back to your dressing room and stepped inside the gorgeously decorated room. You were hit with the scent of flowers, specifically, dahlias and roses and they seemed to fill in every area of your dressing room. A ghost of a smile drifted across your lips, as a knock sounded on your door, “Come in!” A tall man entered the room, he was lanky with chestnut hair and a pair of round glasses that rested upon his nose. 

“(Y/n) Daae where is your hat?” He spoke, his voice wasn’t accusatory instead it was light and teasing. He watched your brows furrow in confusion, “oh come on now. After all the trouble I went through to give it to you as a memento!” 

“Oh my god, Wilbur! It is you!” You exclaimed in delight running up to him and wrapping your arms around his body. He was much more muscle than bones, a stark difference from your past, you felt him chuckle beneath your arms. You pulled away eyes shining with delight, Wilbur hummed pleasantly lightly running his fingers through your hair.

“Little Songbird let her mind wander …”

“Oh god, you remember that, too …

“Little Songbird thought: Am I fonder of dolls, or goblins, of shoes…” He mused with a grin and mused yourself, 

“Or of riddles, of frocks. Those picnics in the attic…” You breathed fondly and Wilbur brushed the pads of his fingers over your heated cheek. 

“…or of chocolates…”

“Or Father playing the violin,” You sighed dreamily pressing your body against his, and Wilbur continued swaying with you gently, 

“As we read to each other dark stories of the North…”

“No what I love best, The Songbird said, is when I’m asleep in my bed, and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head! Father said, "When I’m in heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you”. My father is dead, Wilbur, and I have been visited by the Angel of Music.” You expressed looking up at his face only to find him looking back down at you with amusement, 

“No doubt about it little one. Now however we’ll go to supper together!” Your eyes widened in horror and you pulled away from his hands fumbling with the lace of your costume, 

“No, Wilbur I can’t, the Angel of Music is very strict.”

“Then I won’t keep you up late!” He laughed fondly, “you should change. I must get my hat. Two minutes Little Songbird. Then I’ll be back for you!” Wilbur shouted with glee leaving the room as you called out to him, almost desperately.

“Things have changed Wil…” 

The air in your dressing room felt hot and thick, it was so bad you felt as if it was choking you. You glanced over to the mirror only to see a figure standing inside it, he had long pink hair tied into a tight braid down his back. His ears were pointed and a pure white mask covered half his face, eyes a vibrant red and he almost looked to have tusks. His outfit was glorious a deep red cape and a black suit and you knew immediately this was your angel. He sneered at you in the mirror, 

“Insolent boy. This slave of fashion basking in your glory!” He scoffed tone unkind but not towards you, “ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!” You reached forward placing your hand right around the mirror, 

“Angel! I hear you! Speak - I listen…stay by my side, guide me!” You pleaded, voice almost breaking with a sob, “Angel, my soul was weak - forgive me…enter at last, Master!” You watched as your angel’s face visibly softened, glowing eyes shining with eternal kindness and satisfaction. You stepped back as the mirror seemingly opened on its own but you were too mystified to care, 

“Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in the shadow I hide! Look at your face in the mirror - I am there inside!” A hand stretched out from behind the eternal darkness of the mirror and you felt your excitement grow. You gently grasped his hand within your own, it was warm but not unpleasant, you felt his fingers brush across your knuckles like he was making sure you were real. “I am your Angel of Music…” He breathed and you nodded allowing yourself to be whisked away into the darkness. The hidden passageway was made out of stone brick, clearly made decades ago, candles lined the walls illuminating you and your angels’ journey. As you and the angel moved deeper into the cavern mist began to gather and swirl at your feet and a large underground lake came into view. “Please my siren, allow me,” His breath fanned your cheek and you felt them burn with embarrassment. He stepped in front of you, and then into the water pulling a boat to shore. You gasped in awe and he chuckled fondly, “Come to me.” You did as you were told grasping once more onto his hand as he helped you into the boat, he grabbed an ore and began to grow into the ever-expanding cavern. 

“Angel?” 

“Techno’s fine my Siren. Compared to your beauty I am no angel.” He smiled eyes crinkling at the sides watching you flush a deep red. 

“Where are we going?” 

“My home. Just watch, keep your eyes ahead my dear.” 

You nodded swiftly and almost as if his words were magic a gorgeous candlelit cavern appeared in your vision. Candles were the only source of light provided, and your amazement only grew as your Angel- Techno docked the boat. He helped you step out of it making sure your costume wasn’t damaged in the movement. Techno seemed to preen at the awe sparkling in your eyes, your dainty fingers tracing over every nook and cranny of his home. “How did you get a piano in here?” You exclaimed with a disbelieving laugh, moving to stand behind it, he only responded with another fond chuckle. Your fingers danced across the keys pressing them down as you went, the noise was like a melody to Techno’s ears. 

“May I show you something?” 

“Anything.” You breathed in a way that made Technoblade’s insides twist in delight, once more you took his hand. He led you down the steps to a giant bedroom, curtains framed the bed and he nuzzled his face into your neck. “What’s this?” 

“A bedroom genius,” He snorted and his heart jumped hearing you giggle in delight, “for you.” 

“Me?” You whispered in disbelief, “How? Why?” You turned to place your hands on his cheeks, 

“If you want it.” 

“I barely know you.” The rational part of your brain argued against your angel’s wishing, even though the other part of you felt as if you belong here, should stay here with him. After all, you already felt as though you knew the man for years.

“You can learn to,” Techno cupped your cheek with his hand and brushed his thumb across your cheek. You shivered pleasantly at his touch, he could see the conflict in your eyes, “just stay the night at least. Then you may venture back into the light so long as you stay far away from the boy.” Without meaning to you found yourself nodding completely entranced by him, “That’s my good girl.” 

—

You woke up to the melodious sound of a piano, you could hear a deep baritone voice singing an enchanting song. The music washed over you and you felt like you were floating on the bed. Speaking of, the bed was soft beneath your body and you felt as though you could sink into it and stay there forever. There was a swell in the song and you finally lifted yourself from the confines of the bed, you made your way over to the piano where Techno sat. You couldn’t help but stare, he caught your eyes and you smiled in his direction the boyish smile he sent back made your heart skip a beat. He pats the piano bench beside him and you sat down at his side, he smiled resting his face on your shoulder hands moving away from the piano to rest on your thighs. He has your thighs a gentle squeeze and your eyes fluttered beautifully, “you are absolutely stunning my siren.” 

“I’m hardly stunning but thank you.” Your cheeks turned pink and Techno tutted taking your chin between his fingers, “Techno?” 

“Don’t ever say you’re not stunning. You absolutely are, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen my dear.” His words shook you to your core, his voice was so stern so genuine and you brought your own hand to cup his mask. He flinched away from your touch but you followed the movements, 

“How can I believe that to be true when you’re sitting right beside me.” You heard Techno choke back a sob nuzzling against the hand on his mask. Your fingers found the straps behind his head and the mask came apart in your hands. Techno shot off of you like you’d burned him, his hand clutching the side of his face, his one visible eye beady and frightened. He kept his face from your view but you could sense the air around you grow thick, he was furious. He grabbed the collar of your dress and you let out a yelp of fear,

“Damn you! You little prying Pandora! You little demon-is this what you wanted to see? Curse you! You little lying Delilah! Now you cannot ever be free! Damn you…Curse you…” He choked back a sob and you saw the fist against your collar shake, his hand dropped from his face and your pupils blew wide. The left side of his face was littered with scars and burns, jagged deep cuts that marked his otherwise pristine face. You said nothing, completely in shock by the man in front of you, the same beautiful man from before. “I will burn in hell, but secretly yearn for heaven, secretly…secretly…” Techno muttered his voice wavering, “But, (Y/n)…fear can turn to love! You’ll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster: this…repulsive carcass, who seems a beast, but secretly dreams of beauty…” You shushed him softly, moving to run your fingers over the scars but he flinched away, instead you silently handed him back the mask. A barely audible thank you left his mouth snapping the mask back into place. You moved to press a light kiss to the side of the mask and his eyes widened considerably, “come we must return - those two fools who run my theatre will be missing their star.”

~~~
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30 Days Writing Challenge — June - Chapter 1 - magical_traveler - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own]

Just participating in a June writing challenge! Feel free to check it out! Basically will update every day. (Hopefully)

Thank you to @creativepromptsforwriting for making this. It’s been super fun the last few days and I can’t wait to keep going!