Today’s Twitter thread: Hey did I ever mention my Phantom of the Opera r76 AU?
So like, the thing is that Reaper makes a pretty obvious Phantom, right. But Jack as an ingenue? Jack as an ingenue would be the kind of pretty young thing who survives by dumpster diving in Paris back alleys & fist fighting for cash. Probably, in the grand historic tradition of pretty, broke young actors, offering blow jobs to smitten rich dudes.
And this is where it all goes off the rails. Because Eric goes all jealous murder-spree and drives Christine away. Whereas Jack chases Gabe down, screams in his face to knock that shit off and help him practice if he wants him to succeed so bad.
Raoul’s still a thing I guess. Dunno who he’d be but Jack is trash enough to enjoy watching two hot guys fight over him. Laughs at them after for thinking it has any bearing on which one he fucks. It’s not like they asked HIM. He was just enjoying a free show.
Let’s think about the seduction scene for a sec, though. I’m here for Jack in a corset & a frilly lacy white thing that reveals his thighs. Takes Gabriel’s mask off. Whispers, “Holy shit. You’re so hot.”
Gabe like, “Don’t mock me, I look like a burn victim.”
Jack: “Your face is fucked up, true, but I would happily die between those thighs.”
I always found this hilarious about the musical. Does anybody care what dude’s face looks like under that mask. Look at the rest of him.
Jack: Fuck it man, just put that Red Death costume back on and we’ll roleplay our way through this.
I just love the image of ethereal, angel-voiced Jack with bull shoulders, a filthy mouth and an inclination to brawl like a drunken sailor.
Somebody really Breakfast at Tiffany’d that boy up.
They put him in a corset because his copious boobs won’t fit in the
costumes otherwise. Gotta rein those suckers in or he’s going to pop
buttons every time he deep-breathes for a high note.
Gabe follows that beautiful voice and finds him, aglow in the light of a stray sunbeam and singing as if he’s a human nightingale.
Then Jack’s like, “What the fuck’re you supposed to be?”
Clubs him with a stand lamp.
“Keep your shitty hands off my costume, creepo, they’ll make me pay for it if it gets ripped.”
Partly by Jack and also partly because he might have a concussion.
But he focuses on what matters. "Your voice is incredible but you need to lose that accent if you want to make it in this business.“
"What, the Ghost of Christmas Future breaks into my rooms to mug me and then criticizes my diction? Christ, I really am in Paris.”
And in the end Jack’s been saving up his money and buys them two tickets to San Francisco. “I hear they just opened an opera house. Let’s get the f**k out of this hellhole. Bet they could use a decent director and script writer.”