devils roll the dice / angels roll their eyes

the more that you say the less i know

i’m begging for you to take my hand

wait for the signal and i’ll meet you after dark

i should’ve known from the look on your face

your heart was glass, and i dropped it

i dropped your hand while dancing left you out there standing

now no one’s celebrating

the sight that flashed before me was your face when the sun goes down

i can’t give you a reason

i never was ready, so i watch you go

did i paint your bluest skies the darkest gray?

sometimes you just don’t know the answer till someone’s on their knees and asks you

your hometown skeptics called it champagne problems

what a shame she’s fucked in the head

you won’t remember all my champagne problems

i don’t like a gold rush

i don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush

i don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch

when did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?

everybody wants you

will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?

everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

i don’t like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush

my mind turns your life into folklore

you know it could never be

we could call it even

the road not taken looks real good now

you can run but only so far

if it’s all in my head tell me now

when did your winning smile begin to look like a smirk?

i would’ve loved you for a lifetime

i know i’m just a wrinkle in your new life

i can’t see facts through all of my fury

there’ll be happiness after me

do you ever stop and think about me?

seeing the shape of your name still spells out pain

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow 

when i got into the accident the sight that flashed before me was your face

i know i’ll pay for it

my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

forever is the sweetest con

never be so kind, you forget to be clever

long story short, it was a bad time

it wasn’t right the way it all went down

don’t treat me like some situation that needs to be handled

i can’t remember what i used to fight for

sometimes giving up is the strong thing

sometimes to run is the brave thing

do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?

i’m right where you left me

i always felt i must look better in the rear view

i swear you could hear a hair pin drop

they expected me to find somewhere some perspective, but i sat and stared

everybody moved on

i stayed there dust collected on my pinned-up hair

                              IT'S NOT THAT CASTIEL DISLIKES SANDALPHON. He's okay for a non-soldier angel, even if Castiel can't really share his passion for music. It's just that his brother picked a really bad moment for a visit because Castiel can't, for the life of him, figure out the damn guitar thing. He knows that he asked Sandalphon for lessons because he'd genuinely wanted to learn (since that would impress a certain human), but he let practice slide during the last months because it's just too complicated and exhausting. He's a warrior, not a harp-plucking songbird. "Later would be better, yes."

Sandalphon figures it's alright for Castiel to not feel passionate about music, same as San truly isn't too passionate about Thursdays. Then again, Castiel himself doesn't seem too passionate about Thursdays, either.

⠀⠀her form is crouched in supplication, nothing more than a dark, hooded heap kneeling on the snowy ground. the words fly through her lips faster than she has time to think of them, a frantic prayer, a vice around her heart threatening to crush it into ash. she shakes — tears roll down her flushed cheeks — the rosary in her numb fingers threatening to slip.

⠀⠀gustave daaé was dead.

⠀⠀he had been for some time now. the wounded girl had never healed, only festered and rotted over the years from the inside out. how large the world seemed, yet so vast and so empty… how different it was seeing things with clarity, without the tint of childhood sweetness. she sobs.

⠀⠀❝ papa, how I love you… ❞ she whispers to the weathered headstone at eye-level, his name blurred through the wetness of her eyes. where was he now? she imagines that his poor musician’s soul was welcomed into heaven, for any hymn that passed through his lips was made holy by the fact that it was he who had sung it. christine takes an agonizing, shuddering breath in the bitter cold.

The snow continues to fall and threatens to bury her under cloaked form, much like the stone statues scattered through the cemetery.

He's used to pain and suffering. He's used to every stage of grief frantically packaged into a prayer meant for the ears of no one besides the Almighty and His messengers. He's not used to intervention or, Father forbid, growing too close to his charges again or, well, his former charges' children.

Gustave Daaé was dead. Sandalphon was there when he took his last breath, after all. Gustave Daaé would not be very happy if he heard his only daughter caught her death sobbing over his grave in a bitterly cold cemetery. It seemed intervention was the only option, after all.

"Mademoiselle are you alright? You'll catch your death if you're out here for much longer." Hopefully she won't notice the way the snow seems to melt more quickly beneath his footfalls or how his eyes seem to emit a faint glow. "Surely you can visit again when the temperatures are above freezing and you won't run the risk of losing your sense of direction on the way home due to the sleet." He removes his own cloak and places it over her shoulders. It smells vaguely of wildflowers.

LITTLE LOTTE / THE MIRROR

‘ if you wouldn’t mind, this is one visit i’d like to make unaccompanied. ’

‘ as you wish. ’

‘ they appear to have met before. ’

‘ you can’t have lost it. ’

‘ after all the trouble i took! ’

‘ oh, (name), so it is you! ’

‘ you remember that, too. ’

‘ father is dead. ’

‘ and i have been visited by the angel of music. ’ 

‘ no doubt of it. ’

‘ and now, we go to supper. ’

‘ i shan’t keep you up late. ’

‘ you must change. ’

‘ things have changed, (name)! ’

‘ insolent boy! ’

‘ ignorant fool! ’

‘ stay by my side. ’

‘ guide me. ’

‘ my soul was weak, forgive me. ’

‘ see why in shadow i hide. ’

‘ look at your face in the mirror. ’ 

‘ hide no longer. ’

‘ whose is that voice? ’

‘ who is that in there? ’

THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA

‘ and do i dream again? ’

‘ sing once again with me. ’

‘ my power over you grows stronger yet. ’

‘ you turn from me to glance behind. ’

‘ those who have seen your face draw back in fear. ’

‘ i am the mask you wear. ’

‘ it’s me they hear. ’

‘ my spirit and your voice in one combined. ’

‘ your spirit and my voice in one combined. ’

‘ in all your fantasies, you always knew. ’

‘ man and mystery were both in you. ’

‘ sing for me! ’

‘ sing! ’ 

‘ you have come here for one purpose and one alone. ’

‘ from the moment i first heard you sing, i have needed you with me. ’

MUSIC OF THE NIGHT

‘ darkness stirs and wakes imagination. ’

‘ turn your face away. ’

‘ turn your thoughts away. ’

‘ listen to the music of the night. ’

‘ close your eyes. ’

‘ surrender to your darkest dreams. ’

‘ purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. ’

‘ let your spirit start to soar. ’

‘ you’ll live like you’ve never lived before. ’

‘ open up your mind. ’

‘ let your fantasies unwind. ’

‘ let your mind start a journey through a strange new world. ’

‘ purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. ’

‘ let your soul take you where you want to be. ’

‘ only then can you belong to me. ’

‘ touch me. ’

‘ trust me. ’

‘ let the dream begin. ’

‘ let your darker side give in. ’

‘ you alone can make my song take flight. ’