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thephantomessoftheopera · 3 years

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Notes on Gaston Leroux’s “The Phantom of the Opera” - Chapter 1: “Was It the Ghost?”

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Leroux’s narrative starts on the evening of the gala performance that marks the departure of the former opera managers, Debienne and Poligny, and the triumphant debut of Christine Daae.

La Sorelli, a principal ballet dancer, has retired to her dressing-room in order to practice her speech to the resigning managers when a flock of frantic corps de ballet dancers - among them Little Jammes (whose real name is Cécile) and Meg Giry, the only corps girls we get to know by name - invades her room, scared of the „opera ghost“. La Sorelli wants to know if they have seen the ghost, and the girls confirm. They saw a gentleman in a black coat who was “very ugly”, according to Meg Giry - a dark-haired, dark-skinned, rather puny girl. All the ballet girls are crowding together in fear of the ghost in Sorelli’s room and hide behind her when she dares to open the door to look if the ghost is still outside.

A significant detail here is that there has been talk of the elegantly dressed opera ghost for “several months”, so it is definitely a phenomenon that has not been going on for a long time. The rumours were quickly blown out of proportion by the gossip among the ballet girls who blamed every mishap - from accidents to lost powder-puffs - on the “Phantom of the Opera”.

Joseph Buquet, the chief stage machinist, is the main source for the commonly circulating image of the ghost: he wears a black, swallow-tailed coat on his extremely thin body, his face is cadaverous with extremely deep-set eyes, an almost non-existent nose (which is apparently his most terrible feature), yellow skin and only a few long, dark strands of hair. Buquet is given credibility because - contrary to his depiction in the ALW musical - he has a decent reputation as a reliable and sober man. Another person who has come face to face with a ghostly apparition - a “head of fire floating in the air” - in the cellars while doing his rounds, is a fireman named Papin. The two descriptions did not match though, leading to the idea that the ghost could change his heads at will. The apparition that Papin had seen will be alluded to again in a later chapter (“In the Cellars of the Opera”).

To protect herself and the Opera House from evil, La Sorelli has deposited a horseshoe at the entrance, which Leroux confirms is still there. His dry humour is also apparent in the critics’s quote that is used to describe the beautiful Sorelli: „As far as brains are concerned, it seems well established that she had almost none. No one held it against her.“

In this chapter, two characters that will play a larger role later in the story are also mentioned: the chorus master, Gabriel, and the Persian. The Persian appears to be the next best fright in the opera after the ghost, as he is believed to have the “Evil Eye”. Little Jammes recounts an event when the Persian once came into Gabriel’s office and caused a series of mishaps for him that seem straight out of a slapstick comedy. Gabriel claims that he saw not only the Persian, but also the ghost with the death’s head appearing behind the Persian, just as Buquet had described him. As so much reference is made to the ghost’s “death’s head”, it appears that Erik usually haunted the Opera House without a mask on for added effect. It also seems possible that he might have been using a white mask, which could produce a similar death’s head image especially when seen in the shadows, although every time his mask is described later, it is made of black silk, not white.

Meg Giry says that “Joseph Buquet should hold his tongue” and stop meddling in the ghost’s affairs, repeating the words of her mother - and arousing the curiosity of the dancers through her reticence in telling them how she knows these details about the ghost. She cannot keep from revealing that the ghost also has a private box which is attended by her mother, and that it is not to be sold at the box-office by the managers’ orders. And even though the ghost can never be seen, he can be heard in his box even when it appears to be empty.

At that moment, Little Jammes’s mother enters Sorelli’s dressing-room to announce that Buquet is dead, and that near the spot where his body was found, there was a ghostly sound like the “singing of the dead”. Leroux claims that the cause of death for Buquet is unknown (pronounced “suicide under natural circumstances”), although later on, more light will be shed on the exact circumstances of his death. Buquet’s body was found hanging between a flat and a set piece from “Le roi de Lahore” in the third cellar, but then magically disappeared before he could be retrieved.

The mention of „Le Roi de Lahore“ here is one of the many examples where Leroux uses operas and other pieces of music to add subtext and/or foreshadowing to the story, and is an especially interesting case. „Le Roi de Lahore“ is a french opera by Jules Massenet which premiered in 1877 at the Opéra Garnier. Lahore is the capital of the Punjab province, so hanging Buquet with the „Punjab lasso“ amid the set pieces of „Le Roi de Lahore“ appears as an example of Erik‘s (or Leroux’s) dark sense of humour. But there‘s more: the opera’s female protagonist, a priestess, falls in love with a mysterious man whose voice speaks to her in her room at night, yet she never sees him. She falls in love with his voice, and he is later revealed as the King of Lahore. Sounds familiar? Yes, but it doesn‘t stop there: later on, she is abducted by the villain of the story out of jealousy, and he forces her to marry him, resulting in her suicide. Leroux apparently rolled the hero and the villain from „Le Roi de Lahore“ into one and linked it to Erik‘s hero-villain character.

(Images from wikipedia)

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#lerouxreadingguide #phantom of the opera #poto #gaston leroux #leroux phantom #the phantom of the opera #erik x christine #erik #opera garnier #classic literature

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tornrose24 · 3 years

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Thoughts on Cinema Sins ‘Everything wrong with Phantom of the Opera’ video.

Well at least ONE of the movies I was hoping Cinema Sins would cover happened. Some sins were expected, but I wasn’t expecting that the CS guy apparently saw the musical and has some knowledge about the history of PotO in general.

-”Several people died.” No not really unless not everyone got out of the burning opera house.

-Knew he’d make a Minions joke the second ‘illumination’ was mentioned.

-Aww, no sins off for the use of the Overture music? And its from the 80’s so of course it would sound the way it does.

-Ok, I admit showing the seats losing their dust and becoming brand new again as a ‘what if’ for movie theaters when quarantine was over was amusing.

-There’s a difference between good opera singing and annoying opera singing, which is why the ladies didn’t care for Carlotta’s singing.

-I wonder what a Silence of the Lambs opera would be like, speaking of CS getting his Hannibals mixed up.

-Raoul and Christine are supposed to be around the same age, so the fact that Patrick Wilson was like 13 years older than Emmy does make the ‘childhood sweethearts’ thing strange.

-Oh great, now CS made 2004!Raoul and Christine’s age gap as problematic as with her and Erik’s by pointing that out.

-Minnie Driver is a great Carlotta AND was a memorable part of this film.

-Oh Christ, 200,000 francs equals almost a million bucks in today’s world? Isn’t that a little too much to demand, Erik?

-Yeah Emmy doesn’t exactly HAVE the right voice for Christine when you compare her to other stage Christines (but at least she doesn’t have a weird vibrato like a certain someone).

-Christine doesn’t strike me as a super social person, and her father was a supporter of her musical talents so it makes sense that she wouldn’t be amongst her new fans and pay a visit to the chapel.

-I wonder if Ramin (aka one of the best Phantoms) found out that he was compared to Harry Styles in this video.

-Christine was supposed to keep her lessons a secret, so it makes sense that she’d confide in Meg after that.

-CS points out the unfortunate implications of Christine being a child when she was approached by Erik in this adaptation and I’m pretty sure CS is going to utterly destroy Webber for this someday.

-Actually yeah-where the hell did everyone go when there was so many people outside Christine’s dressing room a few moments ago?

-I do appreciate CS calling out Giry for just letting the Phantom stalk Christine and not stopping it sooner. (And it does feel strange that she’d let the girl she considers a surrogate daughter go through this).

-”Psychedelically laced smoke.” Every fan thinks that too.

-Also, the mirror is a trick mirror. Kind of obvious later.

-Also he needed her to think he was a divine tutor and didn’t show up until Raoul came into the picture (and because he wanted to move on to actually facing her like a real person).

-Well the horse WAS in the book, but him being part of Christine’s ‘possible hallucination’ makes sense too. Also the idea of her ridding the Phantom is amusing.

-No that WASN’T the sewers they were going through–the opera house literally had an underground lake and there’s a history behind it since the opera house this story is based on is real.

-Erik building the statues makes more sense to me since the guy is meant to be hyper talented.Also note that this is where you can especially tell CS had experience with die hard fans of the book since he refers to the Phantom by his actual name for this sin in addition to saying WHAT they told him specifically.

-Actually CS has a good point about how the final note of the title song is shown off. They should draw more attention to Christine singing that note since its not only a display of her talent but a show of just how much influence/power Erik has over that. Instead we don’t see Emmy singing (and as anyone will tell you, she sang it as an E flat and not an actual E note).

-Yeah that scarf mask is weird.

-The smoke eye has been a mystery for AGES CS and no one can answer why.

-Love the description of singing “Music of the night” as to treat it like going to a glorious destination.

-Thanks for reminding me why the casting choices and changed up backstory makes 2004!Erik worse than he needs to be (God... what the hell were you thinking ALW and JS?!)

-If CS is familiar with the musical, I wonder if he’s aware that 2004!Erik was many a teenage girls’ crush with that in mind.

-Ah the return of the original ‘creepy doll that looks like a character’ that I almost forgot about. Except CS makes it more creepier by pointing out something about it that makes 2004!Erik more creepier than he needs to.

-CS keeps referring to actors by whatever they were in/a character they also played. And I’m just reminded how strange it was to see Emmy in Shameless (and she’s not enough to make me want to watch that show).

-CS forgot that the managers were supposed to be ass-kissing when he wondered why they were in the dressing room.

-If I remember correctly, a company performs one opera production at night and then practices/rehearses for the next one during the day. The one they perform happens for a certain amount of time before its time to switch out. But yeah, the film makes it look like this is all happening in 24 hours which shouldn’t be possible.

-Nothing for that guy mooning Carlotta? Ok then, moving on I suppose.

-I’ve seen this movie hundreds of times and I NEVER saw the boat in the woman’s wig until it was pointed out.

-Was he not paying attention? Erik kills Bouquet because the guy was trying to go after him. The original reason why he died in the book was for the same reason.

-I’m glad that CS has sympathy for Christine for all she went though in a supposed 24 hours. I’d crack under all that too.

-Surprised he didn’t sin the snot shot on the roof. (You know what I’m talking about).

-Yeah, so much for a secret engagement if you got the ring exposed.

-Not sure why CS finds the gold guys funny other than they are ‘just there.’

-I would love to see the party-goers go after Erik since they DO outnumber him as an alternate scene during that moment after ‘Masquerade.’

-No ‘This is Sparta’ jokes? Ok then, moving on I suppose.

-Christine’s dad is implied to be famous in this movie (explaining the mausoleum, but in the book he was poor so he shouldn’t have one). But that does raise questions as to why Christine seemingly has little money to her name in this version.

-Dude, seeing the gave fight scene as Nite Owl vs. Leonidas was something I couldn’t unsee for more than 10 years. But I bet the Snyder fans loved that joke. (Speaking of CS and superhero films WHEN WILL YOU STOP TEASING ME WITH ‘ANIMATED SUPERHERO FILMS’ THAT ARE JUST ANIMATED DC FILMS AND SHOW ME THE ONE I ACTUALLY WANT TO SEE?!)

-I would love to see a Home Alone version of PotO since CS pointed it out.

-Actually I would love to see the au where CS is a critic in the PotO world and just not give a shit if Erik threatened him.

-Yeah, Raoul making Christine the bait and endangering her IS messed up. As much of a dolt he is, novel!Raoul would NEVER have done that to her.

-Erik’s hair looks nice because its a wig, CS.

-Oh boy, the reveal of the bad make up. No surprise it got a sin. I loved that CS showed Lon Chaney’s version (and hopefully will get people to watch the original silent PotO) and was more impressed by it over what this movie had. I also love how blunt CS is in summing up the deformity.

-There wasn’t a fire when the mob went after the Phantom in the musical. But as history can prove, some mobs care more about their goals than their own safety.

-I think they wanted to squeeze in one more trap before the final confrontation and Raoul WAS trapped in a room that became filled with water in the book and silent film. Though I’m amazed CS didn’t notice the reverse direction the bubbles were going during that scene.

-I don’t know how to answer why Christine was just standing around and doing jack shit to help Raoul during the final confrontation.

-A recreation of one of the most famous kiss scenes in musical history and CS just sums it up as ‘yeah your first kiss always sucks.’

-I love the contrast of Super Mario music with shots of PotO for the bonus round.

-Holy crap, that WAS a lot of candles.

-Some of the alternate audios for the last bit were unfamiliar but that Bug’s Life scene for when Christine is heading towards the mirror is perfection.

-And of COURSE CS would use that one Mission Impossible scene.

Final verdict: Predictable at times, but pretty amusing for a PotO fan like myself. I do hope the next movie musical CS covers is ‘Little Shop of Horrors.’

#phantom of the opera #the phantom of the opera #cinema sins

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karmaholmes221 · 3 years

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Vicomte de Phantom

Part 20- Beyond the Lake

The love story of Raoul and Christine is timeless, how they overcame everything to be with one another, but there is much more to their story than that... there was another woman, Raoul's first wife. The first Vicomtesse de Changy. And she was just as much a part of the story as any other character.

I stepped over the crumpled dummy of Christine as I began to prepare things that needed to go with us as we made our escape, knowing that there was no chance that we could stay here. I tried desperately to keep the memories of the last time I had had to run from my mind as I moved carefully around the room, getting lost in the all too familiar routine. Suddenly Erik and Christine appeared, Erik dragging Christine roughly. I hardly noticed the wedding dress clinging to Christine’s body as I moved around the large throne-like chair.

Christine pulled herself free of his grasp and backed away from him as he stared blankly around the room, taking in my half finished preparations. Christine glanced at me, as though expecting me to jump forward and reprimand Erik for his behavior but I simply ignored her. When it became clear to her that I would not come to her aid she turned her attention back to the phantom and, braving the terror clear on her face, addressed him fiercely. “Have you gorged yourself at last, in your lust for blood?” She paused for a moment, but Erik gave no reply, and so she continued. “Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?”

Erik finally looked at her,a cold look in his eye.��That fate, which condemns me to wallow in blood has also denied me the joys of the flesh...this face, the infection which poisons our love...” He leaned over slightly to take the bridal veil from the dummy and moved slowly towards her. “This face, which earned a mother's fear and loathing... A mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing...” Erik said softly, placing the veil on her head. “Pity comes too late. Turn around and face your fate, an eternity of this before your eyes!”

The two of them were now so close they were nearly touching, and I watched, slightly impressed at the fact that Christine’s face remained calm and cold. “This haunted face holds no horror for me now... It's in your soul that the true distortion lies...”

There was the sound of splashing water and my eyes flashed to the portcullis as Raoul appeared his eyes connecting with mine for a moment before Erik caught sight of him as well. “Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest!” He turned to call out to Raoul. “Sir, this is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you would come, and now my wish comes true. You have truly made my night”

“Free her! Do what you like only free her! Have you no pity?”Raoul called pleadingly, grasping at the bars of the gate.

“Your lover makes a passionate plea!” Erik said dryly to Christine and I couldn’t help myself, I took a step forward trying to reason with Raoul.

“Please, Raoul, it's useless . . .”

Raoul’s eyes met mine again. “I love her! Does that mean nothing? I love her!” His eyes returned to Erik. “Show some compassion...”

“The world showed no compassion to me!” Erik snarled at Raoul harshly.

“Christine... Christine...” Raoul begged, his gaze set on Erik. “Let me see her...”

“Be my guest, sir . .” Erik said dryly. He turned to face me and gestured with his chin. I sent him a warning look before moving to the wall and pulling a lever beside the large organ. The fence began to rise and Raoul slowly entered. “Monsieur, I bid you welcome! Did you think that I would harm her? Why should I make her pay for the sins which are yours?”

Suddenly from out of nowhere, the Punjab lasso was in Erik’s hands and, before Raoul had a chance to move, he was caught by the neck and the rope had been threaded through one of the openings in the portcullis. Christine tried desperately to rush towards the two men, but I reached out and grabbed her by the forearms, pulling her back as Erik continued to taunt as he pulled the rope tight.“Order your fine horses now! Raise up your hand to the level of your eyes! Nothing can save you now, except perhaps Christine...” He turned sharply to face her. “Start a new life with me. Buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me, and you send your lover to his death! This is the choice. This is the point of no return!” Erik said, issuing what I knew would be his final ultimatum.

Christine shot Erik a hurt look. “The tears I might have shed for your dark fate grow cold, and turn to tears of hate...” she said, her voice rising to a shout at the end.

“Christine, forgive me please forgive me... I did it all for you, and all for nothing..." Raoul called out to Christine despairingly but she wasn’t listening.

Her eyes were locked on Erik but when she spoke again, it was to herself. “Farewell my fallen idol and false friend...One by one I've watched illusions shattered...”

“Past all hope of cries for help, no point in fighting.” Erik said, his voice sounding almost cold.

Raoul’s voice joined Erik’s and they spoke at the same time. “Either way you choose, he has to win...”

“For either way you choose, you cannot win! So, do you end your days with me, or do you send him to his grave?” Erik growled

“Why make her lie to you, to save me?” Raoul demanded and I stepped forward,looking to Erik.

“Angel of Music...” I implored, praying to whatever higher power may be listening that they would stop and see reason.

Erik continued on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Past the point of no return"

“For pity's sake, Christine, say no!” Raoul shouted.

“...why this torment?” I pleaded.

“...the final threshold...” Erik continued.

Raoul’s voice turned pleading. “Don't throw your life away for my sake...”

“When will you see reason...?” I gasped out, exasperated.

Erik's eyes remained locked on Christine. “His life is now the prize which you must earn!

“I fought so hard to free you...” Raoul said, a sliver of defeat making its way into his voice

“Angel of Music...” I repeated.

“You've passed the point of no return...” Erik continued to gaze at Christine who suddenly took a step forward, out of my hold.

“...you deceived me. I gave my mind blindly...” She hissed, accusation and betrayal clear in her voice and her face.

“You try my patience, make your choice!” Erik hissed, yanking on the rope, causing the noose to tighten further on Raoul’s neck.

It was silent for a moment as Christine reflected over her options for a moment. Then, her face set with resolution, she made her way towards Erik. She took a shaky breath as she took the first step and she began to speak, her voice quiet at first but growing with emotion. “Pitiful creature of darkness... What kind of life have you known...? God give me courage to show you you are not alone...” Her face remained calm as she took his face in her hands and pressed her lips against his.

My eyes caught on Raoul’s and I couldn’t help the smug smile that made its way onto my face at the look of horrified wonder on his face. ‘Now he knows what it feels like to watch the person that you love be in the arms of another.’ I thought, unable to find it in myself to feel bad for him. my attention snapped back to Christine and Erik as they pulled away from one another. Erik held Christine’s eyes for a moment. before he let a resigned sigh and made his way to Raoul, taking a lit candle from one of the brackets and held to the thread of the noose rope, after a slightly tense moment the rope fell, harmless.

I could hear the sound of the mob growing ever closer as they continued to shout. “Track down this murderer, he must be found! Hunt out this animal, who runs to ground! Too long he's preyed on us, but now we know, the Phantom of the Opera is there, deep down below... Who is this monster, this murdering beast? Revenge for Piangi! Revenge for Buquet! This creature must never go free...”

Erik quickly addressed Raoul. “Take her. Forget me, forget all of this... Leave me alone, forget all you've seen...Go now, don't let them find you! Take the boat. Leave me here, go now, don't wait... Just take her and go, before it's too late... Go... Go now, go now and leave me!” Raoul and Christine rushed to the boat, keen to get as far from this place as possible.

Erik remained where he was, gazing mockingly at his mask, where it lay on the floor next to the throne-like chair. I moved to the papier mache musical box, I reached out and put my hands on the box, accidentally turning the box on as I shifted it out of the way to open the trunk beneath it. I could feel Eric's eyes on me as he began to mumble under his breath. I strained my ears to pick up on what he was saying. “Masquerade... Paper faces on parade... Masquerade... Hide your face so the world will never find you.“

There was a slight sound behind me and I turned slightly to see Christine moving slowly towards Erik. I kept my face stoic and unreadable as she pulled the ring from her finger and pressed it into Erik’s hand. “Christine, I love you...” Erik said quietly, pain and heartbreak clear in his voice. She hurried away and I watched silently as Erik gazed at the ring for a moment before sliding it onto his finger.

I leaned over and picked up my cloak from so many years ago and draped it over my shoulders.

Christine’s voice carried quietly, from a distance as She spoke to Raoul. “Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime... say the word and I will follow you...”

I shook my head slightly to clear it and fastened the cloak in place as Raoul continued the familiar verse. ”Share each day with me...”

”...Each night...”Christine continued.

Raoul’s voice joined her’s and their voices merged together. “Each morning...”

Erik stood there for a moment, looking after her. “You alone can make my song take flight -it's over now, the music of the night...” He whispered, sounding more broken then I had heard him be in a long time. I watched as Erik walked slowly towards the throne, taking a seat on it as the mob grew louder and louder. “You should go.” Erik said and I stalked forward.

“Come with me.” I said pleadingly.

Erik simply shook his head. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Then neither am I” I said stubbornly.

“Auroe…” Erik began and I could tell that it was going to lead to an argument.

“No, I’m not leaving you” I snapped. Erik sighed and I moved to kneel in front of him. “Come with me, we can start over again.” I begged and he nodded. I took his hand and we rushed away quickly. I had just slipped the covering over the hidden doorway back in front of the opening as the mob appeared above and began climbing down the portcullis. As the mob entered the lair, I caught sight of Meg Giry. I watched with bated breath as she crossed to where Erik’s mask laid and picked it up in her small hand. I let the curtain twitch back into place. I turned to face Erik and he held out a hand to me. I pulled the hood of my cloak up and took it and we disappeared out of the opera house and into the night.

The end.

#romance #phantom #opera #phantom of the opera #erik destler #raoul #pto #fanfiction #vicomte de phantom #part 20

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lotusunset · 6 years

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The Kiss

A/N: There’s no accompanying picture this time cause I can’t art today out of rage but here’s another snippet from my AU where Christine is the ugly one. This was written more as practice for feeling out the world itself and trying to make sure Christine and Erik still sounded like themselves. I don’t expect their actual first kiss will play out like this in the story proper but who knows! It’s still a fun little piece.

She hardly knows what has happened when the sharp, cool air slaps her naked face. She gasps in shock, one hand instinctively reaching for the mask that’s been stolen from her, the other attempting to hide the worst of her horrible face.

But he holds the mask far above her head, out of reach. He catches her wrist and refuses to let her hide from him. His fingers trace up the length of her arm until they are curled around the back of her neck, tangling in her hair.

Then her breath is stolen again, for he bends down and surges forward, pressing his perfect lips against the mottled skin of her mouth and Christine hardly knows what to do. Being touched in any sort of manner is foreign. Being touched like this...her heart is pounding so furiously against her chest that she can’t even form a proper thought.

Still, his lips move against hers and he pulls her small frame more firmly against him. Her arms fall around his shoulders, but she can’t kiss him back. Fear creeps back into her mind; if she moves anymore, this will surely prove to be a dream. Or a nightmare, for there have to be consequences to this, unforeseen complications that--

Christine regains her strength in that moment. Her nails dig into the fabric of his coat and she pulls him away. She reels backwards, unable to keep from staring at him. The expression on his absurdly handsome face is full of confusion. Did he think that this would end well? That he could just steal her mask and everything would work out in his favor? What did he think would happen?

When she can no longer take his piercing stare, she pushes him away and crumples to the floor in a heap of black skirts. She buries her face in her hands to hide. Hide her ugliness, hide the tears now falling freely from the corners of her sunken eyes.

“What are you doing? Why would you do that?” She shrieks at him. Erik’s eyes follow her form towards the floor. She can still feel them burning through her. In his hands, he still clutches her silken mask, thumbs gently caressing the soft fabric.

“Don’t you know that a draugr can steal your soul? C-Can kill you with nothing more than their touch? I can put a curse on you and everyone you love, on everyone in this theater or, or--” Christine cries out, gasping for breath. “I will drive you mad, absolutely insane, and then I’ll drink your blood so I can keep on being a horrible, undead creature for all eternity!”

Her hands don’t very effectively cover her features, Erik watches and waits for her tears to ebb. He says nothing until her breaths have evened out.

And still, he holds her precious mask hostage.

“Are you quite finished?” He asks her calmly.

“Finished with what? Declaring my intentions as the resident monster to eat you alive? Because I’m just getting--”

“Cease with this, Christine. I tire of these antics. I know you far too well to be intimidated by such empty threats,” Erik’s patience has begun wearing thin.

“They aren’t empty! I am a terrifying beast of a creature and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll give me back the mask and go away!”

“You really believe that, don’t you,” he states. The truth of it perplexes him; he has found her so endlessly fascinating since the moment their paths crossed. A ray of sunshine dressed up like a shadow. His brows knit together as he tucks the mask into a pocket in his coat. He very much intends on not returning it quite yet.

“What else am I to believe, hmm? My father was killed because of me! Because of what I am and, and what I can do, and you should go away before you get killed, too!” Her tears begin anew and Erik refuses to idly watch this time. When most of the world has taught her that her only value is how horrible she is, it’d be a logical conclusion to come to. He intends to prove her wrong. Before she has a chance to protest, he lifts her back up to her feet. A small squeak escapes her as she regains her balance.

“Christine,” he speaks her name, drawing out each syllable into soft velvet. He covers her small, skeletal hands with his broad palms. His thumbs gently caress her skin, brushing over her knuckles in hopes of soothing her.

“You cannot drive me insane, I am already quite mad,” he says, slowly tugging her hands away from her face. She chokes on a breath. She hates being this vulnerable, being trapped and cornered and being forced to confront the feelings in her gut that have been brewing for this man.

“If you cursed everyone in this theater, I’d be far more likely to laugh at their misfortune than be mortified.” Little by little, she relaxes under his touch, as he stares at her hideousness as if it is perfectly normal. When he is sure that she will not try to hide again, he releases her hands and instead holds her face. Her skin is so pale and thin, yet soft and beautiful.

“And if this is how I am to die, then let me perish.”

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. His hands steady her back to center and she covers his hands with her own. The thought of pushing him away again lingers but before she can make a decision, he kisses her again. Softer and sweeter this time, slower and with more reverence. She still flounders under her own conflicting thoughts but she doesn’t scream in utter shock.

Christine has given so little thought into what she wants in this regard. Why dwell on an impossibility? But it’s so hard to argue with him when his lips are distracting hers. How can he be so confident in effectively damning himself? What on Earth could he possibly gain?

She also realizes, as his lips slide against hers over and over, that she may never have an opportunity like this ever again. Her hands fall and grasp at the lapels of his coat, pulling him down and pulling him closer. He kisses her harder, their teeth briefly clack together because of her inexperience and a hungry growl pours from his mouth into hers.

And so as he devours her, she decides to be equally selfish.

#phantom of the opera #poto #e/c #erik and christine #the-emmay #Draugr AU #first kiss #fanfic #maybe this silly thing will cheer someone up over all this tumblr madness #ugh

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bethhxrmon · 6 years

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All I Ask of You Pt. 7

“We start with stars in our eyes. We start believing that we belong, but every sun doesn’t rise, and no one tells you where you went wrong.” - “Waving Through a Window” from Dear Evan Hansen

Pairing: Peter Parker x Original Female Character

Word Count: 4,358

Warnings: More infidelity, more emotional angst, descriptions of depression

Summary: Annie finally hears her dad’s side of everything while comparing herself to a murderous fictional character.

A/N: Soooo, against all odds I managed to get this chapter up on time! Feedback is always appreciated, I like knowing what you guys think!

MASTERLIST

Playlist

Saturdays were meant to be spent being White Swan while claiming to be hanging out with friends. They weren’t supposed to be for letting her father explain himself or justify his cheating. However, because he offered to take her to the matinee of Phantom of the Opera, she had been won over. Granted, she would be stuck hearing her dad’s side anyways, it would either be over a bribe or him cornering her while she was in the apartment with him. Ever since her mom said she told Annie why they really moved, her dad had been waiting to tell her more. All Annie wanted was to move on and forget about it all, that was the best way to get over the news that she never wanted to hear.

Annie ate some chicken nuggets and looked over at her dad. Forcing her to sit and talk before the show was probably for the best. If he had waited until after, she would have booked it and called Peter or Ned, even MJ or Tina if she had to. Listening to her dad justify being the root of all the issues in their small family was not how Annie felt a lunch at McDonald’s should be spent either, but there were too many things going on that she didn’t have a say in that she didn’t have the motivation to cut her dad off.

“I know what you’ve been expecting me to say,” Carter Hardwick started.

Annie swallowed a chicken nugget, “You couldn’t possibly know, and even if you did, I’d bet I’m right.”

“You know, you’re not as perceptive as you think. Before your mom said anything, did you know anything was wrong?” he asked, drinking the black coffee he bought for himself.

Annie looked down, “I knew it was weird that Melanie quit tutoring me and that we moved.”

“But you know what else? Why your mom and I didn’t divorce?” he asked.

She shrugged, “Because me not having a broken home mattered more to mom than your need to tap it without wrapping it?”

Her father’s forehead creased as he sighed, “Well, that factored into it… but do you remember your mother’s partner at the firm?”

“Yeah, Jim, cool dude, what about him?” Annie prompted.

“They were seeing each other as well, I suppose she left that out, didn’t she?” he questioned.

Annie blinked, her grip tightening on the flimsy plastic cup her caramel frappe was in. Her dark eyes looked up to meet her dad’s. It had to be a lie. There was no way that both of her parents had been the bad guy in the relationship. Who was the victim supposed to be then? Could it be her even if she hadn’t known what was going on?

It was silent while Annie took a few drinks of her overly sweet iced coffee. There wasn’t exactly a manufactured response or a pre-ingrained retort for her to deliver. She couldn’t just run away, there wasn’t someone she could run to and ask to help her ignore everything going on around her.

All she could do was slowly nod, “Oh… she forgot that, I guess… well, anything else you wanted to say?”

“Actually, yes, you know how you were adopted right?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He cleared his throat, “It’s the way you were adopted, well, the way you had been found.”

“Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?” she spat.

“Hey, I need you to calm down.”

“Why should I? I was doing great back home and you move me here without hearing me out and I find out why we’re even here… and now you’re gonna distract me with my birth parents or some bullshit like that?”

“You don’t know what you want and you don’t know the full story. Besides, acting isn’t sustainable, I’m doing what’s best for you. One day you’ll understand.”

“But you’ve never asked what I wanted or even what I like. It’s like you don’t care about anything I work on.”

“Now you’re being self-centered.”

“Because fucking my tutor was such a selfless act, wasn’t it?”

“You say that like your mother-”

“I’m mad at her too, okay?! Just tell me about ‘how I was found’ or whatever because apparently that’s gonna be enough of a distraction for me to stop being pissed at you.”

“You were found in a lab, being experimented on. You were a test tube baby. There, now you get that truth you were looking for,” her dad responded with a shrug.

Annie’s jaw dropped, and her eyes widened as she quickly shook her head, “That’s gotta be some kind of messed up joke, Dad, seriously.”

“Annika, it’s true. I don’t know what that means for you, but I felt like you needed to know,” he replied.

She closed the box of remaining chicken nuggets, “Right, because you thought now was such a great time.”

“Ann, I-”

“Whatever, we’ll be late to the show. Let’s go.”

It was difficult to know what to do with the new information. All of it was nearly too much for Annie. She couldn’t even bring herself to cry or say anything more. Her entire body seemed to numb itself on instinct, almost like it knew if she really took long enough to feel anything that she would end up breaking down in the middle of the McDonald’s that was only a few blocks away from the theatre she was going to. That show was the only thing keeping her anywhere near her dad. The tickets he had purchased last minute were nowhere near each other, and Annie knew that was for the best. Annie had no clue how she would have been able to sit next to her dad for two and a half hours straight after everything he had said. Especially when she had a feeling that she was going to crack and end up crying eventually.

The theatre was nearly packed, and Annie sat in the seat that was printed on her ticket which was nice and far away from her dad. He wasn’t someone she was sure she could ever manage to talk to again. Sure, he wasn’t the only guilty one out of her parents, but he was also the one who never bothered to see why she enjoyed the things that she did. It felt like he would never notice what she liked unless it was something she liked. When it came to classic novels, they were fine, but the minute Annie admitted that the only reason she was about to start War and Peace was because of the musical made based on it, the conversation would run dry.

What she needed was a chance to process everything. Though, it seemed like there wasn’t enough time for that. Even in a room full of patrons, all she could think about what how different she was from everyone. Sure, she was dressed somewhat nicely in a floral dress and a grey cardigan, making her seem just as normal as the other people there. However, no one else she knew of was an abandoned science project.

Watching the musical, Annie came to multiple realizations. They ranged from the obvious like how she would kill to be Christine when she was old enough to truly make something out of herself. When she would be able to spend all of her time acting instead of having to wait for a class or rehearsals for some after school production. Then there were the less clear realizations like how Annie could only relate to Erik, the phantom. No one else was like him, he had abilities that no one else was able to compare to, and he seemed to be just as lonely as she felt. At least, that was what she gathered by the end of the first act.

Tears were in her eyes as intermission started, but at least that wasn’t completely frowned upon. She quickly wiped under her eyes, attempting to keep her eyeliner and mascara from smudging. Whether she succeeded or not was to be determined because she couldn’t see her reflection all that well from the phone screen in the dimly lit seats. That wasn’t why she was turning her phone on, though. Her dad had to be kidding himself if he thought she was going to go home with him. No, she was going to call someone to walk back with her, so she first messaged Peter.

Pete, can you do me the biggest favor of all time?????? -Annie

Yeah, what do you need? -Peter

Meet me on Broadway in an hourish????? It’s kinda important and kinda a long story and I don’t have time to tell it all rn -Annie

I’ve got the internship, I’m so sorry -Peter

It’s cool, see ya later then -Annie

There wasn’t long left in the intermission, and Annie needed to get someone to help her. She scrolled through her contacts, pression on Ned’s name.

Hey are you doing anything??????? -Annie

Not really, what’s up??? -Ned

Could you meet me on Broadway soon, like an hour? If not it’s cool, but yeahhhh…. -Annie

Yeah! I’ll be there, everything okay? -Ned

It’s a long story, but I’m fine -Annie

Okie dokie! I’ll be there dude -Ned

The house lights started to dim down and Annie turned off her phone again as the second act began. She watched as all of the brightly colored costumes crossed the stage for the first song. While she had seen the musical before, it was never while she was in the audience. Seeing the dancing almost made her forget everything going on.

Forgetting everything was for the best, she didn’t want to have a complete mental breakdown on Ned when he came by. That would only leave her feeling terrible and probably leave Ned feeling as confused as ever. So instead she tried to focus on the musical, only the musical. Though, that wasn’t much better of an option as the plot continued.

What was worse was that Annie knew exactly what happened, she knew that Christine was going to have to face Erik again and that Raoul was going to try and save Christine. Despite knowing all of that, Annie still felt tears falling down her face. Whether it was because of her dad or because of everything happening in the show, she wasn’t completely sure. Either way, Annie was positive that her makeup was smudged all over her eyes, but she didn’t make a move to wipe her eyes. Not when it was only halfway through the second act.

It was seeing Erik proposing to Christine that truly made Annie start crying. She knew that Christine would reject him and that he would kidnap her, and that Raoul would just run off to save Christine. By all rights she shouldn’t have been connecting with Erik so much. She was a soprano who just wanted to get by and perform but got thrown into situations from being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Still, hearing Erik’s singing about how lonely he had been all those years felt much more relatable. No one else was different in the same way she was. Though, she wasn’t a murderer, at least, she didn’t think so. Maybe the only reason she hadn’t cracked all the way was because no one rejected her for her powers. Then again, only one person knew she had powers and they lived across the country.

By the time the show finished, Annie’s eyes were irritated from her sweater rubbing tears away from them. She quickly filed out of the theatre with almost everyone else hoping that if she left quickly enough that her dad wouldn’t catch her. He didn’t see her, or he did and chose to not talk to her. Either way, Annie ran a hand through her dark curls as she made her way back outside to the chilly December air.

Maybe a dress hadn’t been the best idea, but there were so many emotions coursing through Annie that she hardly noticed how cold it had gotten. It took a bit of walking around on the street to finally see Ned, and she rushed right over to him. She didn’t want to be around a crowd of strangers for longer than she had to.

“There you are! I was gonna call you if I didn’t see you soon,” Ned told Annie, hugging her.

Annie gave a small shrug, “I was watching a musical and-”

“Is that why you’ve got that raccoon-eyes look going on?” he asked.

Annie sighed, “It’s a sad musical okay? I mean, no one super important dies, but it’s just… it’s emotional, ya know?”

“Yeah, and because of this, we’re getting you some chocolate or something. Do you wanna talk about why you’re here alone, though?” Ned questioned, starting to walk towards Times Square.

Annie shook her head a little, “Not really, it’s just more family drama that was also a bribe that I was dumb enough to take.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning my dad wanted to clear his name by taking me to McDonald’s and Phantom of the Opera.”

“Are you gonna tell me what he said?”

“Probably not, it’s kind of a lot.”

Ned nodded a little, “Got it, we’ll just get some chocolate and take the subway home and we can talk about literally anything else.”

“That sounds like a fucking plan, Ned, let’s go!” Annie replied, a small smile on her face.

They continued walking in a comfortable silence, but Ned must have noticed the expression on her face change as she started to think again. He cleared his throat a little and nudged her, nodding at all of the terribly done costumes pretending to be Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck.

“Fucking hell, Ned, those are so creepy, I’m out,” Annie said, pulling Ned away by the wrist.

Annie pushed past a few people who were trying to hand her and Ned CDs and other different items. The area was just so crowded, and Annie felt her legs getting cold as she led the way into the Hershey’s store. While that store was crowded too, there was at least chocolate and a heater making the experience bearable.

“Alright, you can get anything, it’s on me, dude,” Ned said.

Annie shook her head firmly, “No, that’s not okay, you don’t have much money. Besides, weren’t you saving up for a Lego Sandcrawler thing?”

“That’s not important, you’re not doing too well-”

“I’m fine. My family just sucks,” Annie insisted.

Ned shrugged, “Not doing too well, bad family life, same difference. I’m getting you something and you’re picking.”

“But that model-”

“I can keep saving up for it later, right now, you need the emotional support that only chocolate can give.”

It didn’t matter how much Annie protested, Ned continued to insist as he picked up a package of mini cookie crunch bars for himself. Though, Annie really didn’t think he needed to pay, Ned felt that it was the least he could do. Whereas Annie was starting to feel like she owed him for getting from Queens to Manhattan right when she asked.

Ned sighed a bit, “Come on, I’m insisting. You know you’d do the same thing for me.”

“Maybe… maybe I wouldn’t,” Annie countered as she picked up a bag of fun sized Almond Joys

He shook his head, “You would, I mean, you’d say that you wouldn’t, but then you would anyways.”

By the time Annie thought of something else to say, Ned had taken the bag to pay for everything. She didn’t even have a chance to protest again because he was paying. Though, being around someone else was enough to make her feel normal for a little bit. Especially as they walked back to the subway station to get back to Queens.

They talked about little things until there was another quiet between Ned and Annie. The two teens sat next to each other on the subway, eating their candy. People poured in and left as they went to different places as they waited to get through the Queens Midtown Tunnel. It had taken a little effort to get in fast enough so they both had seats, but Annie was quick enough for both of them.

“So, you saw that musical… was it any good?” Ned asked.

Annie gave a small nod, “Yeah, it was great actually. Phantom’s always been one of my favorite musicals. Right up there with The Great Comet, but that got taken off Broadway before I even moved here. Which is a shame because it had a lovely soundtrack… on the bright side, it means I can use one of the songs from it for my audition. But I would rather get to see it… sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“No, you’re fine. I think it’s really cool you know all that stuff. I know Peter thinks the same thing, I’m sure Tina does too. You’ve got your ‘thing’, ya know?”

“My ‘thing’?”

“Yeah, like Peter and me are great at science and MJ is always reading and writing… you’re good with theater stuff. You really shouldn’t be at a science school, though,” Ned pointed out.

Annie laughed a bit, “Oh, you don’t need to tell me twice, my dad was the one who pulled that. There’s who knows how many great performing arts schools here, I could get mentored by someone, dammit, but he suddenly decided I needed to be more practical. As if he has any room to talk.”

“That’s a shame… but seriously, I’m not sure if you’ll do great at the audition, favorites and stuff, ya know? But if anyone were gonna pull off getting the lead role after being here for a month, it’d be you,” Ned told her, smiling a bit.

Annie smiled back, “You know what? That’s the best thing anyone’s told me in ages, thanks, Ned.”

When the subway finally stopped at the right place, Ned walked Annie back to her apartment. They stopped talking about anything remotely serious, instead talking about the new Star Wars movie coming out in about a week. There were so many theories they were going over. If there wasn’t much reason to be excited for Christmas, Annie had plenty of reasons to be excited for Star Wars, even if she probably wouldn’t get to see it right away.

That evening, Annie finally got the chance to suit up and she wasn’t taking crap from any petty criminals. It was pretty normal for her to go all out with her powers when she was busy being royally pissed off. She wasn’t over her parents both turning out to be terrible. Not to mention how pointless everything felt.

All she could do was exert the energy out through using just a bit too much of her powers. While it left her a bit short of breath, Annie was able to really feel something when she felt energy coursing through her. She was breathing quickly as she shoved back a man so he was thrown nearly three blocks away.

“Jeez, Swan, I’d hate to see what that guy looks like,” commented an all too familiar voice.

Annie turned around, fighting to roll her eyes, “He was trying to mug an old lady, he probably deserved it anyways.”

“Not to say I disagree, but have you ever thought of a more pacifist approach?” Spider-Man asked, jumping down into the alleyway Annie stood in.

Annie shrugged, “Maybe I’ve considered it, and maybe that doesn’t interest me too much. Anyways, we don’t work together again until Monday, what’re you following me around for?”

“Your powers just keep sending all these shockwaves around the city. I-I mean, normal people can’t tell, but I kinda can. You know, senses dialed to eleven and all,” he told her, his hands behind his back.

Annie nodded, “Yeah, so I’m working a bit more today than normal, is that really such a bad thing?”

“Well, if you’re hurting people, then it kind of is a bad thing,” Spider-Man pointed out, leaning against the wall.

“They’re bad people, Spidey, they did shitty things and I’m stopping them.”

“But there’s more than one way to do it.”

“I don’t need your moral compass today.”

“I feel like you do.”

Annie huffed, starting to walk away. The only reason she didn’t say anything was because she knew he had a point. At the same time, why should she even care about anything else? It felt like there just wasn’t any point in her trying to save people.

As she walked further, Annie noticed Spider-Man following her and she tugged the white hood of her suit more as she looked up at him. It was almost as if he was trying to be obvious. When she saw him give a little wave, she knew that he was doing this on purpose.

“You should give me a lift!” Annie called out.

Spider-Man nodded, jumping down again, having an arm around Annie as he webbed the top of the building. They made it to the top and Spider-Man patted the spot next to him on the ledge for Annie to sit next to him. She sat, seeing her silver leggings and black combat boots dangling from the ledge, cars driving back and forth beneath her feet.

It was already pretty dark because of how close to winter it was getting. The weather was cold enough that Annie had a couple shirts beneath her hoodie in an attempt to make sure she wouldn’t freeze to death. Though with the combination of emotions she felt starting to cancel each other out, Annie couldn’t bring herself to feel much at all.

Sometimes that happened on its own, where after going a million miles a minute Annie would simply stop and it felt like there was nothing. Those were the times when it felt like nothing could touch her and she was invincible. Even with Spider-Man next to her, the one person who could ever come close to understanding her, she felt like there was no one else in the world.

“Um… I don’t really like it when things get quiet. I-I’m sorry if I’m interrupting your thinking, but seeing you fight like that… w-well it worries me,” he started.

Annie looked at the masked hero, “Hey, hey, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m just a little pissy today.”

“Then explain you leaving for a few days with no warning. Y-you leave for a few days and come back. If you need to talk-”

Annie frowned, “I don’t wanna talk about it. It doesn’t fix everything happening in my life. I just… stuff happens and I can’t sneak out or I can’t get myself to because I know I’ll be a liability.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his eyes squinting.

She shrugged, “Like, when I get told something, or things go wrong I’m not gonna be any help. I mean, I get in the way a lot already, I’m sure-”

“You don’t. Maybe we don’t agree on everything, but it beats being the only hero wandering around. Come on, think about it. There’s two million people in Queens, right?”

“Yeah, your point being?”

“Well, we each get a million people. Then less bad things can happen. I mean, one million’s a huge number, that’s more than enough for both of us.”

Annie breathed out, seeing her breath fog in front of her, “Hypothetically, yeah, that works… but not all of us have Iron Man supplying us.”

“Well maybe that could change. Maybe we could work together for more things! Come on, we understand each other in a way no one else could.”

“I don’t know about right now, but maybe someday. After we finish everything with Tina, we could think about that.”

Getting back into her apartment, Annie found herself feeling just as numb as she had felt since her dad told her everything. Though, she did feel like she could get through it one way or another. Things weren’t completely bleak, she wasn’t entirely alone. Still, she didn’t want to talk about what had her thinking far too much.

Just as she was about to turn off her light to go to bed, Annie’s phone went off. Peter was calling her, and why he was calling her when it was almost midnight she had no clue. Still, she picked it up.

“Hey?” Annie answered.

“Hi… I um… I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ned helped me. Why’re you calling so late? Not that I mind, just, you should be sleeping.”

Peter gave a nervous laugh, “I could ask you the same thing, but I had a question. How would you like to see The Last Jedi with me and Ned on Thursday night?”

“Wait, like, the premiere?” Annie questioned.

“Yeah, it’d be kinda late, but would you like to? Mr. Stark gave me three tickets and you said something about liking that type of thing, so I thought you’d like that and-”

“Pete, I’d love to!”

“What about your parents? Are they gonna be okay with it?”

“They can go fuck themselves. If they won’t let me I’ll sneak out,” Annie told him.

The conversation didn’t grow much from there, both of them sounding as tired as ever. She could hardly believe that he’d asked her. If she hadn’t been so conflicted, she would have felt like it was close to a date. Except it wasn’t, Ned was going to be there. They were all just friends.

Annie was being silly, there was no way Peter could like her like that. Especially if she ever told him the things her dad had told her. And after seeing what lying did to her parents, she didn’t want to be in a relationship if Peter didn’t know she was a superhero, and she didn’t want him knowing. Though, being friends wasn’t too bad either. She still got to see Peter smile his dorky smile and geek out over nearly everything. Things were going to get better eventually.

Tag list: @flushings-here / @upsidedownparker / @gaypanda / @ijustdontknowsometimes / @lionsfandomsandbearsohmy (just ask to be added to the tag list)

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x oc #trans peter parker #spider-man #spider-man x reader #spider-man x oc #spider-man: homecoming #mcu #original characters #series #trans spider-man #marvel #writing #fanfic #upsidedownparker

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infernorp · 6 years

Photo

name: carlotta giudicelli

age: thirty

gender and pronouns: trans female, she/her

loyalty: neutral

occupation: company member of le théâtre de nuit

criminal occupation: none

faceclaim: laverne cox

You were born with moonlight in your throat, comets scorching through your veins and stars rolling off of your back. There was a name before Carlotta, a story that came before the one you tell to strangers in dimly lit spaces, but the prologue is not what is remembered. The chapters of your existence are written across your limbs with pride, an open book for all who wish to read it, and you know no shame or fear. Your body has always contained too much for the stretch of your skin and the length of your bones, and your father promised you that you were destined for greatness — ‘Sing, Carlotta. Let your voice fly, uccellino. Don’t stop until you’ve found it.’ Exactly what he meant, you had never asked, but you still searched for it. You grew your hair out to lasso towers that were out of reach, filing your nails into points that made no surface safe from your ascent. You were a born climber, but you were also a mountain in your own right, and your father had always known that his investments into your future would pay off tenfold. Etiquette lessons had the social ladder of your Italian hometown beneath your heels, and lessons with an aged opera singer out of her prime trained you to reach notes that were higher than the heavens. ‘What is it like, Carlotta?’ your father would whisper, taking you by his calloused hands and smiling until his lips cracked from the strain. ‘When you go to heaven in those moments, what’s it like? What do you see? What secrets do you know?’ And he died knowing you would become a legend, and you held his hand knowing he gave up everything to see it become a possibility. You didn’t know what was beyond the golden gates that you visited in the moments of your performances, but you kept visiting them — you kept singing and you kept reaching and you kept trying to see those shining streets; but your father was gone in a casket lined with velvet. Ivory finishing held the tears that you could not carry on your own. You dreamt of Paris in your mourning, all the stories he’d tell you of his younger years when there were no anchors to strip a father of his youth. You packed your things and you made the journey on a whim. To find yourself and to cement your goals, or to reconnect with the man that made you who you were, you were not entirely sure. It’s a cruel tragedy when a girl never knows love truer than the man who spoiled her until there was nothing but rot left beneath her skin.

Parisian silks around your throat and shades to block out the flames of your ambitions, you were offered residence in Le Théâtre de Nuit within a week of your arrival. Extravagance went a long way for making your presence known — the flamboyance of your laughter drowning out dimmer women before singing could even come up in the auditions. They needed someone to draw in a crowd, someone to hook all eyes on the stage in the moment of her voice rising in octave, and that was destined to be you. The next week, you had your first starring role, and after the best opening of a play in the theatre’s history, it became an annual thing. You’d take your breaks, and you’d let your understudies have their own moments in the public eye, but you were a greedy thing. You latched your claws into Nuit and you claimed it as your own — and who was to challenge a dragon’s claim to her hoard? You were the pearl atop a pile of cracked shells, a beautiful thing among so much tragedy, and your life was perfect. You were everything your father had wanted you to be; you were the leading woman. You met a man who loved you for all the plainness beneath your gilded surface, and the two of you were happy. Romeo and Juliet, Marc Antony and Cleopatra — Carlotta and Piangi. The king and queen of the opera, and isn’t it tragic? That royalty is always destined to fall? Whereas skill could not be questioned, there were prettier women, and you knew the curse of being a dim creature waltzing across a sky of burning stars. You were once the sun, a shining thing that could not be threatened, but the the standing of Nuit began to change the moment Christine Daae placed herself on the chessboard. Parts reserved for you are offered to her, dresses you made famous altered to better suit her figure, and all the while you're left staring at lights that are slowly slipping away. They linger on her, making her shine in all the ways that made you whole, and it's not fair. There is nothing warm and beautiful about a fleeting sense of worth. Is this your swan song? Is this the moment you become a supernova? A dead, lovely thing in galaxy of fallen heroes? You were always meant to be eternal, always meant to have everything your heart desired. Piangi can't chase the ghosts away, and your father's too far past the gates to call for him. Keep singing, Carlotta. You have so much more to say. An empty theatre still has an audience — sing for the broken people. For once, sing for yourself.

castmates: baylen moreau, fleur renard, meg giry, odessa faust, sebastian renard, and ursula braun

enemies: erik destler and joseph buquet

employers: gabriel prideaux, madalene giry, michel lefevre, and richard firmin

CHRISTINE DAAE

You’re an aged bird, sitting on a swing in a cage of ivory — and now a younger creature has come to perch on the branches of your treasured domain. It’s almost blasphemous, the way that the audience eats out of her palms and how the theatre is placing the spotlight on her form. Her talent holds no match to yours, her abilities not nearly as trained as your own, and it’s unfair that time is such a cruel mistress. You punch vanity mirrors until the lines on the glass match the ones on your face, and you curse fate. Your father sacrificed everything to see you become something; wiser and happier and more secure than he had been. How dare a child attempt to usurp his legacy? How dare a swan pretend to know the song of a lark? Beauty is fleeting, you know that now. Your voice cements you in a way that she cannot budge — but what will hold her? Frankly, Christine’s just a pretty face, and you’re content to weather the storm until she’s no longer an annoyance.

MATHIEU REYER AND GILLE ANDRE

Either you or they are little more than a spoiled pet, and it’s never been likely for you to play a role without proper credit. Every whim of yours is met within a matter of seconds; every little frustrated cry for help and craving for a display of opulence. The prized lark is kept preened and fed and adored at all times, and the two of them have always been tasked with calming your tantrums. A secondary character stands a little too close, and you storm off. Another woman tries to sing more passionately than her part requires, and you throw your hands up in protest. And can you blame them for trying so hard to please you? ‘Don’t cry, Carlotta,’ they beg, wiping tears from your cheeks and powdering away the flush of red. ‘Don’t strain your voice!’ And you lick the salt from your lips and bat your eyelashes, and you say that you’ll be fine. When everything is as you want it to be, all is perfect within Nuit. You've never been one for giving up control.

UBALDO PIANGI

You found a man to hold you while strolling the cold streets of Italy. You were a woman in your prime and a rising star in the opera scene, and when you visited your home country in the winter months, Piangi pulled you close and gave you a warmth that you had always craved. Awe of him came after loving him, learning of his local operatic roots as a tenor of great skill. You snatched him away like a thief in the night, taking him to Paris where the two of you steadily started your ascent to the very top of Nuit’s rankings. You were the star, the grandest of all the performers, and he had a voice like warm honey. You drank of him, and he tasted of you, but what the two of you shared was the purest of relationships. How powerful is love? When someone manages to steal your heart with just a simple kiss to your cheek, no nails trailing down your back? You married him, and you forged a life with him, and now he combs your hair as your relevance slowly fades away. ‘And do you still love me?’ you whisper often, forehead pressed against his own. 'Always,’ he assures.

THIS CHARACTER HAS A FLEXIBLE FACECLAIM AND IS OPEN

#laverne cox fc #bio lsrp #bio lsrpg #mature rp #literature rp #a #fem #o #n #carlotta #connection:ubaldo #connection:christine #connection:gille #connection:mathieu

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another-chorus-girl · 6 years

Text

‘Ghosts of Phantoms past’ An Erik House drabble

So this is in part a “Christmas Carol” parody and a request for @sparklyerik especially. Like my other Erik house drabbles this is not necessarily in the canon so you don’t have to read this to know what’s going on in the story-however I still would appreciate if you’d read it :)

Merry Christmas!

Everywhere the eye could see was coated in a blanket of snow. In the city lights gimmered and twinkled, carols of old were sung on this winter's night. Even within the house, where several masked masters of music, Christmas' effect on everyone was infectious. All throughout the house, everyone seemed quite harmoniously at ease.

All but one that is.

Erik was more than happy keeping himself shut in. Not that anyone would bother with him. Each passing day he felt the ever more alone and rejected. Even despite the others efforts to raise his spirits. And Christmas, a time spent with family and companions felt all the more sickening to him, a harsh reminder that he was alone.

"You realise you especially are more than welcome to join us?" Crawford suggested to him that Christmas Eve. "We all know what it's like, you don't need to shut yourself away."

"While touching, that's quite easy for you to say." Erik scowled, barely looking up from his latest composition penned in messy red handwriting. "There's hardly a moment of solitude on your floor. Barely anyone pays me mind with you and your boys present."

Crawford paused, "Is this about Christine?"

"Let's not discuss her."

"Sarah said she tried to get here, but the storm outside was just too-"

"Enough!" Erik raised his voice, his temper flaring. "Not even Christine wants to see me, she needn't have her friends make up some lie to feed me."

"Monsieur please-"

"Just go. I'd rather immerse myself in my work."

With a sigh, the older Merik nodded not wanting to push too hard.

Going up the steps to the main floor, his mismatch eyes gave a warning glare to Gerik, whom coming down the stairwell nearly ran right into him.

"Now what?!" Erik growled, slamming his hands down in frustration on the keys in front of him that moaned in a bellowed protest.

Though a little nervously Gerik smiled, "Just wanted to bring you something a thank you and to say Merry Christmas."

"What reason have you to be merry?

"What right have you to be so dismal?" Gerik smirked, understanding that the older man could be get into such sour moods, but in the very least attempted to lighten his spirit.

Erik raised a brow behind his mask at the parcel in Gerik's black gloved hand that he nudged closer to him.

"I appreciate all you've been doing for me," The film adapted man said, "So much that I've been writing a new score, and I wanted you to be the first to read it. We could go up to the main parlour? Destler is suppose to have it's use right now but he and Winslow are out. And what with it being Christmas-"

"Humbug to this whole nonsensical season."

Gerik frowned, "Christmas a humbug? You don't mean that."

"Not tonight boy," Erik grumbled. "You should just go and join the others. Keep Christmas in your own way and let me keep it in mine."

"But you don't seem to keep it."

"Let me leave it alone then. Much good has it ever done you." Gerik nodded, "In the past I have regarded it as just that. But this year, Christmas being a kind, charitable time, I feel like I'm actually a part of it for once."

The film adapted man smiled noting to himself his pleasant surprise that Kerik-while pretended to be just as cynical about the whole holiday shoved an intricately wrapped box into his hands just moments ago upstairs. Gerik was puzzled by Erik's sneer. He was never this cross

"Is something the matter?"

"Like you should care? Why should anybody?"

He frowned, "We wouldn't be here without you."

Erik shook his head, "What recognition do I get for it? I'm just lost in obscurity, just like the ghostly facade I've taken."

Gerik looked down at his boots, Erik heaved a heavy sigh.

"Please. Please I don't want to argue with you. Your gesture is kind, but I need to be left alone. I'm rather use to it."

"Is there no way of changing your mind?" Gerik called one last time, concerned for his mentor."

Erik shooed Gerik off with the wave of a skeletal hand, "Good afternoon."

The world had looked past him and let his story be lost to the ages. He had no interest in enjoying any sort of festivity feeling unwanted and irrelevant.

Having spent the remainder of the evening composing, Erik leaned back. Returning to reality his energy felt drained. Rest and sustenance he even still neglected. Tonight however, he felt this pull for both. Perhaps something as basic as a bowl of porridge and just a few hours rest was the break he needed and then he could continue. Perhaps by the time he awoke and began his music once more, this trivial holiday would be over. The masked man hated the reminder of how alone and unappreciated he felt about his existence. -- Erik's head shot up hearing something behind him. Whipping around, he saw no one. Shaking his head, he dismissed it as nothing more than a rat scuttle. While Kerik's feline was an outstanding mouser snuffing out many stray vermin, some unfortunately slipped inside the house from time to time-likely coming from Jerik's dumpster.

Resting his head back down he just barely felt the hand that hesitantly reached out and touched his shoulder. Tired glowing eyes opened at half mast.

He stared back at a pair of dark grey eyes behind a cloth mask.

"Lerik? What is the meaning of this?" Erik questioned, the opposite man not even phased that he was not wearing a mask to conceal his death's head like appearance.

He could see Lerik begin making hand gestures and shook his head.

"Oh for the love of Faust write it down!" Erik scowled. He was unwelcoming to Lerik, but he and Crawford knew well to schedule their meetings well in advance. And certainly not at midnight-granted at this time the men would be composing rather than resting.

But rather than reach for a piece of parchment he shook his head, as Erik noted he could hear a muffled noise escape Lerik from behind the mask.

Erik blinked, was Lerik trying to speak? How was that possible.

"I mastered pantomime, but do know how to communicate," A low voice uttered from beneath the cloth.

Erik's eyes were wide in surprise, "You've never spoken...I must be hallucinating."

"You do not believe in me? Why do you doubt your senses?"

"Because the littlest thing can affect them, I don't doubt you exist but this cannot possibly be real."

Lerik merely clasped his hands together and stared down with him.

Erik spoke cautiously, "Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?"

"Man of worldly mind do you believe in me or not?" Lerik sounded rather impatient.

"I do....I must. I cannot remain ignorant." This didn't feel like some poor excuse for trickery, what reason would he even have to do so.

"Then hear me monsieur, for my time is nearly gone."

"Tell me then?"

"Tonight, you will be haunted by three spirits"

"Spirits? Is this a jest?" Erik snorted, despite seeing this strange occurrence was still sceptical

"Expect the first, when the bell tolls one."

Erik shook his head, "The Opera Ghost being haunted by spirits of his own? Now really that's just-"

But when he turned back to face Lerik, he was nowhere to be seen. Erik was left alone in the dark.

The house was deftly silent, the clock chime signifying it was exactly one o'clock. Erik's brow furrowed hearing the chime. He was by nature a very light sleeper, but still rather groggy as he awoke. Slouching up to a sitting position in the coffin, his golden eyes glanced around, piercing the darkness.

He scoffed, "Spirits, absolute nonsense."

But as he began to sink back down into the silk lining, he noticed a light out of the corner of his eye.

The light was coming from the next room.

"Really now," Erik growled, getting out of the coffin and made for the sitting room. Wrapping a deep red robe over his nightwear, and making good to reapply his mask, the recluse skulked down to the main room. He found the light source to be one of the candelabras.

But no one was in the room.

Removing the black mask-lacking a proper mouthpiece-Erik reached for the candelabra, blowing out the tiny flames when he heard steps.

Slamming the candle holder down he placed his mask back on and sprinted toward the steps. They sounded as though they came from the stairwell and were going up.

"Kerik if this is more of your tomfoolery I will string you up by-" Erik exclaimed, not necessarily caring whom he woke on the first floor. But his threat was cut short noticing the parlour's fireplace was lit.

But more so whom was hovering their hands over the fire for sought out warmth.

"Y-You..." Erik mumbled, hardly believing what or whom he saw.

The man, much shorter and with a healthier build to the skeletal man, turned noticing him. Well dressed in a grey suit, his hair slightly curled but well kept as was his moustache, smiled back at Erik. His glasses seem to gleam in the fire's light.

"Been quite awhile hasn't it?" Leroux noted.

"I don't understand." Erik was puzzled and his mouth would appear agape similarly to a fish if he were not wearing his mask. "Gaston, how can you? You're-?"

"Quite a lovely home you've made for yourself here. But really my boy it's absolutely freezing in here."

"How and why are you here?" Erik asked, "You died over a hundred years ago."

"A hundred and ten actually, but I appreciate you've been keeping track."

"I don't understand how this can be?"

Glancing up at the grandfather clock adjacent from his, Leroux nodded, "It's one o'clock on the dot. I'm here for you Erik."

"So you're some sort of ghost?"

Leroux laughed, "Must sound quite funny coming from you, yes? I'm a ghost of the past of sorts I suppose."

"Long past?"

"Well your past that is."

The man held a hand out, "Come along,"

Erik's golden eyes stared from the offered hand to Gaston's dark eyes.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"Back," He answered.

Erik heaved a hard sigh, not liking the idea of uncertainty. But in this man he always put trust in. Upon taking Leroux's hand Erik gasped feeling a swirling sensation overcome him, as if he were being violently spun around.

Opening his glowing eyes they were no longer in the dimly lit parlour, or the house for that matter.

Erik gaped upon seeing the angelic statues of gilt copper and bronze atop Palais Garnier rooftop. He walked towards the edge, overlooking the busy Parisian streets, people looking more like ants from where they stood going about their lives.

"I'm home?" He said no louder than a whisper.

Gaston nodded, "In a manner of speaking."

Leading them down from the roof, Erik soon heard more sounds. Music.

He stopped, tugging on Gaston's sleeve. "Wait, someone will see us. No one need discover me."

"Trust me son, we're certainly out of sight." Gesturing for the skeletal man to follow, Erik did so as they came up to a door leading into one of the private boxes.

"Does any of this look familiar?" Leroux asked, pushing his glasses up.

"Of course it does," Erik couldn't help but say as-a-matter-of-factly. "This is after all MY private box."

Stepping into Box 5, his golden eyes glanced down at the stage before them.

He remembered this performance. While it wasn't a particular favourite, Erik had no scathing problem with the opera.

But still he remembered this day all too well. The screams and sounds of panic gave way as the counterweights fell toward the fourth tier seats.

"One dead and several others injured because of that," Erik mused, "I remember"

"Calm before the storm, hm?" Leroux noted, "The chandelier itself you brought down would do even more damage."

The scene seemed to melt away as Parisian's fled or scrambled to find help.

"Now where are we?" Erik paused, "Wait a moment I know where."

He could see a familiar black and grey cloaked figure seated by an organ, playing his life's work.

Lerik barely registered Mary's advance on him from behind. But his head shot up, a look of horror on his now revealed face, his skin tight and nose sunken in. Several screams and gasps were heard all around them as people whom could not see or acknowledge Erik or Gaston ran passed. Others who ran in as opposed to out tended to the frightened women whom had fainted at the grotesque sight before they're eyes.

"And still the world fears my face," Erik grimaced. "As if anyone could possibly show me anything but disgust."

Leroux shook his head. "I think you assume too quickly. The world constantly revolves and changes. " Reaching into his pocket, he glanced down at the watch in his hand.

"Speaking of time, it seems mine is running short."

Erik turned, his normally cold glaring eyes filling with sorrow and regret.

"Gaston forgive me. I'm a poor excuse for being your last legacy."

Shaking his head, the journalist disagreed.

"I wouldn't say that at all son," Leroux smiled, "My other works wouldn't have even been picked up had it not been for you."

"But no one bothered with me for so long."

"Your story is one that the masses were not ready for right away. It just took them some time to come around." Patting Erik's shoulder Leroux walked past.

"Just remember what I said when the next chime comes around."

In a swirling haze, Erik glanced back around for any sign of Gaston. But the long since passed journalist was gone and the masked man was alone in his chambers.

The clock chimed once more. Erik was unroused by this ring.

Rather what caused his eyes to pop open was the bellow of a pipe organ.

"By Apollo! What the hell is happening?!" Erik yelled, getting up and sprinting into his sitting room.

It was his organ being played no doubt, catching sight of the culprit whom had their back to him.

Erik scowled, noting the slick wig and multi ranging tones of blue and gold on the man's evening robe.

"Whichever one you are," He started, unsure which Merik he was talking to, "I don't know why you feel the need to play down here when you have a perfectly fine set upstairs. But I will give you to the count of dix to remove yourself from my room monsieur."

Turning around, Erik was puzzled to see it was Karimloo. What business exactly did the two have?

The West End Merik nodded. "You must have expected Crawford right? You two talk more than you would with me. But I suppose while he contributes to this that the ghost of your present must be a modern face. Or at least my good half."

Erik narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean my present?"

Standing up, Karimloo approached him, both men almost at equal standing height.

"Take my arm, I'll show you." The Merik said.

Erik shook his head, "This is insane."

Karimloo sighed, "Just touch my robe, you'll see."

"Fine fine then." Thin, bony hands grasped Karimloo's clothed wrist. Erik shut his eyes tight feeling that whirling sensation again, trying to will it away. But like last time the feeling quickly left as it began.

Looking around, Erik noted they were on a busy street, this time around however the people passing by-and through them for that matter-were of more modern dress.

"Now where are we?" He asked.

"London, on Haymarket to be precise," Glancing around. "I think I'm a little underdressed."

As Karimloo removed his robe, revealing his impeccable tailcoat suit, Erik looked around.

"Why?"

"We should go inside first, we're already late."

Leading them in, Erik's gaze softened.

"I know where we are now..." He mused, the two men entering the dark auditorium where hundreds of seats were absolutely filled.

"Looks like we'll have to stand," Karimloo observed.

The orchestra became louder and the tune changing ever so slightly as candles rose and two figures sailed into view on a gondola.

"And in this labyrinth, where night is blind.

The Phantom of the Opera is there/here, inside your/my mind!"

Erik smiled, watching the soprano be lifted up out of the boat.

"Your present is quite extensive as you can see." Karimloo indicated.

Erik felt as though his ears were deceiving him. The more he listened, the more the voice seemed to change.

He had seen and heard Crawford playing the organ just a moment ago, but the tenor's tune had changed. This time he could swear he heard Jones now. But once more it changed again, it seemed to be every Merik all at once after the other. Karrie, Wilkinson, Carpenter, Joback. All different, but still one and the same.

"Over thirty one years worth of voices for your music." Karimloo smiled. "And just listen."

Erik felt the thunderous applause rumble all around him, beating against his ears like drums. The theatre melted away but looked quite similar to the one they were standing in.

More voices as the Meriks' of Broadway sang. The skeletal man could hear Panaro, Lewis, Gaines, and even more. It seemed to be every time he blinked it was a new face-so to speak-and another powerful voice, most tenor but even those that were baritone. The music of the night coming to life before Erik's eyes and ears.

"It seems my time is over now. The opera is done, the last notes have been played." He heard Karimloo say, but turning to where he heard the Merik's voice he saw no one. Hearing only a light chuckle fade away into the wind.

Erik looked around, wondering just where he'd gone. While the chill of the cold was not something he was easily susceptible to. But given it was the dead of winter's night and he was adorned in his nightwear alone left him in fending off the bitter cold wind.

Turning around, he felt that invasive feeling that the masked man was being watched. Turning, Erik was met with a cloaked figure standing mere steps away, slowly walking closer to him.

Erik snorted, "Trying to be a regular Don Juan with that cloak Karimloo?"

But the figure didn't answer him and simply stood before him. Behind the full mask he raised a brow, something didn't feel the same. It wasn't Karimloo under the hood whoever this was was taller-and seemed tower even over him.

And there was a feeling of uncertainty about this figure. As if they foretold something yet to come.

"Who are you?" He asked "You're here for me as well arn't you?"

The black hooded figure said nothing. It raised a hand for him to take.

Erik had been use to how this works well enough by now. But he felt unnerved taking this spectral beings hand-it was cold as ice even more so than his own waxy skin.

The feeling spinning and tumbling overcame him once more. Erik opened his golden eyes to another city street. More busy people, living day to day lives. It looked as though they were in Paris again, but certainly not the 1880s again.

"Spirit?" Erik asked, not certain if this truly was a ghost or not. "Where have you taken us?"

The cloaked figure gestured to a theatre house. Not quite as extravagant as Palais Garnier but with a similar air of sophistication.

Erik blinked looking up at the listing with a familiar poster attached.

'Fantôme de l'Opéra Sièges disponibles pour la performance de ce soir Aujourd'hui à 2h30 et à 7h30'

He shook his head, "I don't understand. There was a fire and it-"

He turned, "What year is it spirit?"

This had to be further on in the future. What else had happened?

The figure tugged on his arm, pulling Erik back. The venue and place changing once again.

"I think it's going to be good!" He heard one voice say. He and his cloaked companion were standing just outside another theatre, although this facility was much more digital and domestic.

Behind the corner Erik eavesdropped on the conversation.

"I don't know, you saw what they did with the Mummy." Another voice said unconvinced.

"They made up for that though! The first one is always a flop. And I mean it's going to be more like the original story!"

"So not the half mask? Maybe Universal really is giving us what we want."

From around the corner he could hear a clicking noise. Peering over-his dark dress and mask still concealing him in the shadows-Erik spied one of the girls holding one of those 'smartphone' contraptions.

'So excited to see Phantom on the big screen again! <3' He could see the post read on the illuminated screen.

"What are they on about?" Turning to the hooded figure he asked. "Is this really possible? This future can't possibly be? After all this time I'm still remembered?"

Still silent, Erik clenched his fists and finally his hands flew up to the hood. "Who are you?!"

But lifting it, Erik found himself staring back at another full mask similar to his own, piercing golden eyes staring right into his. But he could tell nothing more about this masked stranger.

His vision felt blurred, the affects of all this too overwhelming for his aged heart as Erik felt his knees go weak.

With a start Erik rose from his coffin, a bony hand clenched over his chest. He panted for breath, a cold sweat racked his body. Looking around, he was in his basement dwelling. Nothing was out of place, no intrusive guests.

Was it real? Was it all a dream?

Creeping upstairs, so perplexed at the night that may or may not have happened, he nearly ran into the child playing chase with Soot through the parlour.

"Oh! I'm sorry sir!" Gustauve apologised. Mr. Y came wheeling around the corner.

"Gustauve! You should be more-" He paused noticing Erik's presence. "I'm sorry about him Monsieur Fantome, a careless accident?"

But rather than stare daggers at he and the boy as expected, the golden glow of his eyes softened, smiling from behind the full mask.

"Easily forgiven. Tell me something, what day is today?"

"Today?" Y asked back.

"It's Christmas Day!" Gustauve chirped in happily.

"Christmas Day, the spirits did it all in one night?" Erik mumbled, "Though of course they can. They can do anything they like. Erik should have expected as much"

"Monsieur? Are you quite alright?" The boy asked puzzled

Erik smiled behind his mask at Gustauve gesturing to Mr.Y, "A delightful child you have there,"

Stunned, Y actually blinked. "Are you sure you're not feeling unwell?"

"On the contrary, feeling in exceptionally good health today." Walking past them, Erik made his way upstairs.

Only halfway up the stairs and he could hear the carols being sung in the Meriks parlour.

"O holy night the stars are brightly shining It is the night of our dear Savior's birth Long lay the world in sin and error pining Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth"

Erik slinked in around the corner, Cherik and Jones seated together on one of the sofas gaped seeing him enter silently.

Panaro faltered in tune spying him as well, a few of the other also bumbling with their notes.

Turning to the disturbance, Crawford's mismatch eyes blinked.

"Monsieur?" He asked, "I had thought after yesterday that-"

But Erik shook his head. "If...If you'll have me I'd love to join you for today?"

The older Merik laughed, trying to keep it down so as it did not come off as a cackle-attempting to kick the old habit.

"If we'll have you? Of course! It would be an honour. Although I suppose if you'd rather not a carol we can-"

"Nonsense! Continue please," He urged. He glanced back at the doorway, noticing Gerik walk through. "I'll join in with you all in a moment."

As the Meriks' picked up where they left off, he tapped Gerik on the back. The film adapted man was shocked to say the least.

"I didn't expect to see you here?" Gerik asked.

Erik held out for him sheet music.

"It's quite a lovely piece. Daresay I'm rather proud that in a way I helped you compose this." Erik nodded to him.

Gerik's shoulders sank and he smiled, touched that he'd finally crafted something worthy of Erik's ear.

The full masked man gestured to the organ bench. "Care to listen?"

Nodding eagerly the two sat down, Erik's poised long fingers pressing gentle upon the keys. The parlour falling into eventual silence as they listened, glancing over their shoulders the Meriks' easily picked up on the tune and began to sing.

Erik let a smile grace his thin lips, he turned hearing a light clap behind him. He felt as those his eyes deceived him, seeing a bob of long blonde hair and glee filled eyes as deep blue as the ocean.

"Christine?" He asked, feeling as though he could weep.

"The storm last night cleared up," She smiled, "Sierra asked Fraser if they stop my way and retrieve me on the way here. I'm so sorry if you were upset that I could not come last night, I so wanted to."

He clasped her delicate small hand in his, leaning his head against her fingers he felt himself shaken.

“My dear,” He asked, “If it’s not too much, could you sing?”

Christine’s kind smile gleamed from ear to ear on her kind face, “I would be delighted to.”

In the midst of such blissful harmony, Erik didn't quite feel so alone.

Here we go!

-Throughout the story I scattered and paraphrased some lines and quotes from “A Christmas Carol” naturally.

-Lon Chaney parents were both deaf and due to this he was raised learning the art of pantomime

- The original incident that inspired the chandelier crash in Gaston Leroux’s novel and the adaptations following this was during a performance of the opera Helle' at the Palais Garnier in 1896 when two counterweights for the chandelier fell and collapsed onto the fourth row, killing one woman and injuring several others.

-When Lon Chaney’s film was shown to audience members for the first time, it was reported that patrons were screaming, running out of the theatre and fainting at the sight of the deformity upon the Phantom being unmasked.

-Mary of course being Mary Philbin, Lerik’s Christine in the 1925 film.

-in October 2017 ALW’s PotO was suppose to be performed at the Mogador theatre in Paris, but due to a fire it was sadly cancelled and never performed.

-The reference to Phantom on the big screen is to the unmade film by Universal Studios, as they are attempted to create a cinematic ‘Dark Universe’ for the classic movie monsters including the Phantom of the Opera. ‘The Mummy’ is the first instalment already released starring Tom Cruise but so far is a cinematic flop and leaving the question of whether or not a reboot movie of Phantom will still happen.

-Moreso a tidbit, several previous Phantom actors including Jones, Crawford, and Panaro just to name a few have recorded their own versions of ‘O Holy Night’ sung.

#Erik house AU #Erik #Lerik #Merik #PotO #phantom #Christmas #Christmas Carol

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tallestsilver · 7 years

Note

6 & 2 for Erik (Phantom of the Oprea), pretty pleases??

6. Hugging headcanon

Resistant to them. Goes in tandem with the touching aspect. Erik does not know how to express positive physical contact. He WANTS to, but it’s a completely foreign concept. If someone, like the Daroga, offered him a hug, Erik would stare at them, look down at their torso, then look back up to their face and then walk away. That, of he would explain that position leaves the person utterly exposed for a stab wound.

Now if it were Christine offering a hug, he’d probably start hyperventilating and make a quick, panic induced getaway. If she thrust herself upon him in a hug, he would be stunned. His arms rigid by his side, turmoil ricocheting in his mind of how to respond without this timid creature fleeing like a stricken deer, when he himself feels like a trapped animal. Does he move? Does he stay still? What are the proceedings for this? Slowly, his arms would raise and envelope her, ever so gently. Just the slightest pressure. If she made a sound of contentment or in anyway proved that was a successful move, he would probably crush her to him and he would start sobbing. If Christine flinched, then he would immediately push her away and excuse himself because he would feel he clearly overstepped the boundaries.

2. Cooking HeadcanonSince I already answered this one, and I’m sitting bored in an airport, I’ll write a short story for this. I apologize in advance for any autocorrections I miss, I’m typing this on my phone. And finishing it whilst at Disneyworld.

“This book is unimpressively droll..” The words hung in the empty house below the opera. Often Erik would speak to himself, sometimes in the third person- although that was on the occasions when he was particularly upset and trying to shift the blame from himself but still acknowledging he was terrible.

In truth, it was not droll, but Erik wanted to convince himself otherwise. He longed to be above reading love poems, and yet, here he was: aching for a feeling he never felt.

A turn of the page contradicted his statement, and he was about to read another simpering tale of love when the siren released her wail. Erik’s scowl deepened and he snapped his book shut.

“What is it this time?” He grumbled haughtily, unfurling his spindly limbs and rising to his full height. He placed the book of poems back on the shelf and strode over to silence the siren. He turned a mechanism, and the screaming alarm stopped. He twisted a hidden knob and out from the wall emerged a peculiar pair of opera glasses, attached to the wall. “If Joseph Buquet is trying to explore this area again..” he adjusted the sights, “he will make a grave error..” His expression went blank as he spied who the culprit was across the lake. Erik released the glasses and they sprung back into the wall. His head snapped around and he looked at the time. 5:05 the clock read. His eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head.

“Daroga..” he growled in annoyance.

In a flurry, he grabbed a nearby white mask and stormed out of his house, dressed in his lounging Persian robes.

Erik marched to the edge of the lake and stood with his hands on his hips.

“What do you want, you great Booby?” He shouted across the lake.

The Daroga lifted up a bag of groceries and a bottle of wine.

“Erik, you know this is our monthly dinner together,” Nadir replied calmly, his voice carried over the lake without effort.

Erik kept his fists balled at his side, irritated at the entire situation.

“I brought chicken,” Nadir offered, gesturing to the bag he held, “it’s already been plucked and cleaned.”

“FINE. But you need to row yourself!”

“We both know your gondola is on your side of the lake,” the Daroga retorted without missing a beat.

Erik muttered curses under his breath as he unhitched his gondola, not taking great care with it at all, and trying to get this little rendezvous over as quickly as possible.

“Get in,” he ordered when he expediently maneuvered himself to the other side of the lake.

“It’s nice to see you, too, Erik,” Nadir commented dryly.

The boat ride back to the other side of the shore was slower and filled with silence. It was a silence Nadir Khan found himself familiar with when he wasn’t faced with biting sarcasm from his friend.

If you could call their relationship a friendship.

The boat docked and Erik left Nadir, sitting in the boat, but he snatched the groceries from him. The bundle was heavy with the assorted vegetables and chicken carcass. In his rush, he did keep a mind to leave the door open for his visitor.

With a sigh, Nadir pressed his palms against his knees and sat up in the boat, feeling his age and wondering how long Erik was going to play this charade of faux irritation.

As he crossed the threshold of the surprisingly quaint home underneath the opera house, he already could hear the busy chopping of carrots and onions from the kitchen. Nadir quietly shut the door behind him, and carefully removed his jacket, setting it onto the nearby coat rack.

“I cannot fathom why you incessantly persist in this monthly meeting,” Erik called from the kitchen. A rush of sizzling sputtered from a pan. The house was perfumed with the smell of onions, cinnamon, and cumin.

Nadir shrugged, knowing full well that Erik couldn’t see him, and busied himself pouring Erik a drink. Nadir wouldn’t touch the wine, but he knew Erik liked to partake. Leaving Erik alone to his vices was bad enough, but if alcohol could be traded for any of the other vices he once had, all the better for it. He continued to set the table for two, knowing full well Erik would not eat, and he would not drink.

“You know I enjoy pestering you,” came his reply.

“Evidently.”

A rich smell of searing chicken made Nadir sigh in pleasure, the kind only good food could bring. He took a seat at the neatly set table, and unfolded a newspaper he had tucked away. Old habits die hard and the Daroga was still interested in knowing all the goings on in Paris. Several minutes passed in silence as each man was taken in with their own interests.

“Hmmm… new chorus auditions this week,” he remarked coolly.

“Yes, and they’ll all be abysmal. I wouldn’t be surprised if the foundation was shaken to its core by their mediocrity and I perished in an unspeakable collapse,” Erik called from the kitchen nonchalantly.

Nadir pinched the top of his nose in irritation, eyes closed. “Must you always be so morbid? Can’t you just say you’re not looking forward to it?” He added in growing irritation.

Erik emerged from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of polow. Nadir eyed it hungrily and clapped his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation for the delicious meal he was about to partake.

“No,” came Erik’s stiff reply setting the food down on the table. He took a large spoonful and served his guest before sitting down at the opposite end of the table with the solitary glass of wine.

Nadir shook his head and began to tuck away into the chicken and rice dish.

“You know Erik,” he said in between mouthfuls, barely restraining himself from speaking with his mouthful, “you really ought to try some of your own cooking. Even though you take-” he took another bite and swallowed the mouthful, “-liberties with it, you do make the best Persian food in Paris.”

Erik gave him a stiff nod and swirled the wine in his glass, smelling its heady and dark aroma.

“Thank you.”

#Ask Me #Anon #Phantom of the Opera #Headcanons #Erik #Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction #grumpy old men being grumpy

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raoul-of-the-opera · 7 years

Text

An Eternity of This - Chapter One

Synopsis: Christine Daae survives Meg Giry’s accidental gunshot in Coney Island. She goes on to live a life, as well as build a family with Erik and their son, Gustave.

Updates on the story can be found here

After a fourteen day stay at the Coney Island Reception Hospital, Christine Daae was released and able to go home. Erik and Gustave were both overly cautious when assisting her into Erik's black Curved Dash Oldsmobile. Christine laughed as she took her spot beside Erik, before Gustave squeezed into the car as well. It was only made to hold two people, but as all three riders were quite thin, they managed to just fit.

"Erik?" Christine asked, taking her lover's hand in her own, "Where shall we go for dinner?" The thought clearly hadn't struck Erik yet, because he opened his mouth, but closed it again.

After a few moments he said, "Well, we could go to somewhere in Phantasma...but I'm getting rather ill of the flavour of those hot dogs."

"I was going to ask if we could get hot dogs today," Gustave admitted in a quiet voice, looking down.

"Oh," Erik’s reply did little to hide his surprise, "Well, I suppose we could get them today, if you'd like."

"Mother?" Gustave asked, taking his circular hat off as he spoke, polite as always.

"If it's okay with Erik, it's fine with me," Christine answered, placing a gentle hand on her son's shoulder.

"Then, hot dogs it is," Erik said, suppressing a sigh, and breaking a small, slightly-forced smile as the car pulled into Phantasma.

A young, well-dressed man stepped forward. "Mr. Y," he addressed formally, "Madame, Monsieur. Shall I park for you?"

"That would be greatly appreciated, Clarence," Erik said in a regal manner, stepping out of the car and assisting both Christine and Gustave out as well. The young man hopped into the car, his deep purple suit jacket billowing behind him as he drove away.

"Though the season is over, preparations from the next have already begun," Erik explained, leading the way through the park, where construction for the new attractions had already started. "Therefore, all the restaurants should be closed," he explained, coming to a stop in front of one of those said buildings, "But, the performers who'll be staying year-round must eat somewhere."

"This is the only restaurant still open?" Christine asked, placing her hand on Gustave's back, guiding the boy in front of her. The restaurant was quite small, and was primarily black and white, which Erik could practically blend into, if he so wished. There were a few of the human prodigies seated at a table, and when they spotted the trio enter, they all gave a respectful nod.

"No," Erik answered, giving a small nod of acknowledgement back, "There are a small number. But this is the only place that still serves hot dogs. And it is my understanding that we will having that for dinner tonight." His lips playing the ghost of his uncommon smile. At this, his bright eyes widened and Gustave ran excitedly to the counter. Christine interlaced her fingers with Erik's as they followed him.

After dinner, which Erik enjoyed more than he thought he would, Gustave went to bed. Christine sat beside Erik on the small couch, and rested her head on his shoulder. Her long, dark curls tickled his neck, though Erik didn't mind. They sat in silence, before Christine lifted her head, unable to truly see the peace in Erik's expression as the side of his face she could see was obscured by his mask.

"Erik?" She said, to which he hummed in reply. "I'm sorry."

Erik frowned, the line appearing between his eyebrows concealed under his mask, "For what, Christine?" Christine sighed softly, her light pink nightgown clashing heavily against Erik's black suit.

"For many things, like leaving you alone with Gustave. I can't begin to imagine how you felt."

Erik shifted, so that his entire upper body was facing Christine's. "He's our son," Erik's tone was unusually soft, and he seemed to merely breathe the word 'our.' After a short pause he added, "He told me that you often sang about an angel of music."

Christine didn't reply, but looked away. Erik raised a thin hand to her chin, and at his touch, she faced him once again. He seemed to drink in every detail of her beautiful face. The way her curls framed it, and the way soft glow of the dim lighting reflected in her eyes, making them seem as if they were belonging to a child. The innocence of her gaze took Erik's breath away from him. He had thought he was as in love with the woman as he could possibly be. But now, as his fingers gently cupped her cheek, and she covered his hand with her own, he felt as though he was looking at her through her dressing room mirror all those years ago. He was falling in love with Christine all over again.

"I did," she quietly confessed, "And he loves those stories just as much as I did." She brought her face closer to Erik's, so that her nose was nearly touching the same part of his mask. She slowly removed her hand from atop his, and brought her other up to the same level, as they both gently rested upon Erik's mask. Christine lifted the mask away from his face, and set it down on the table beside them. "But no love for anything else will compare to the love I have for you."

With those words, Christine placed a hand on Erik's rough, uneven, discoloured skin, and brought her lips to his. He did not object, but pulled her in closer, hugging her body tighter to his. The feel of her soft lips on his partially swollen, but otherwise thin ones was perhaps the best feeling in the world. And in that moment, nothing existed except for him, and his Christine.

"Christine," he sang slowly, gently, just as he had a few weeks ago, and just as he had done so many years ago, "I love you."

It was with that, that Erik swiftly moved from the couch, to kneeling on one leg.That same ring, from all those painful years ago in his quivering hand, as he held it out for her. "Christine Daaé, will you start a new life, a new love, with me?"

Christine, who now had tears in her eyes, nodded, and let Erik place the old ring on her trembling finger once again. They embraced one more, the pounding of Erik's heart echoed in his ears mingled with his sobbing, and he held Christine in his arms again. With the tears in her eyes now spilling down her cheeks with joy, Christine whispered in his ear, "Erik, I love you too."

#an eternity of this #i swear it gets more exciting #i have some of the next chapter done

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tophatsnap · 7 years

Text

Nothing But a Man Ch 6

Hi guys! Sorry that these updates have been so sporadic. I have a heap written. Let me know if you guys are keen and I’ll keep posting :)

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Webber.

Erik

I looked down at her in complete and utter fascination. How could this woman, this perfectly sublime and innocent creature be so forgiving of me, so understanding of my faults that she could actually bring herself to embrace me after all she had heard? I could not figure it out. Her words had completely disarmed me. All the hate and bitterness I had felt had simply melted away as she held me and uttered those incredible words...

'I need you...'

I had not hoped for pity or any sort of acceptance upon telling her those things; I just felt as if I owed it to her to speak the truth... or at least some of it. I froze as she willingly embraced me... it had been the first I had ever received and it was everything I had imagined it would be and more. Soon, I returned it; relishing in her warmth and trust. I wanted to speak, I wanted to tell her how much I felt... I wanted to thank her for what she was doing but all I could utter was her name. It was too much for me but I never wanted it to end.

"Erik." She said; my name, my loathsome name uttered from her perfect lips.

"Don't leave." She said.

That was all I needed to hear. If she wanted me there... that was where I would be. I would do anything for her. Anything she asked of me.

"No..." I said, my voice wavering more than I would have liked. No, I would not leave...

She smiled and held me again, head resting against my chest, arms around my waist. It felt so wondrous that I wondered how I had gone so long without this feeling... without her...

"This was my final performance for the week... so, you can stay late if you'd like..." Oh, how I would love to. I would stay forever...

Tomorrow.

I had heard of her plans with le Vicomte...

I had to mention it. I was being honest now and I had to get into the habit of it...

"Christine... tomorrow... in lieu of our conversation and... being honest." She looked up at me, almost afraid of what I would say. "You know that I heard your conversation with... the boy..."

"'...The boy?'" She laughed. "Yes... my conversation with Raoul..."

"Yes... well I know of your plans with him tomorrow. I won't pretend that I'm ignorant to his intentions... I just wanted to make it clear that I knew."

"Just as friends, I assure you... you don't need to worry."

But I could not help but worry...

"I appreciate you trusting me; letting me see him. I know that you used to be quite strict with what I did..." I smiled politely. Of course I trusted her. It was him I did not trust, and I was not comfortable with any of it.

"Will you stay though?" She asked.

"Yes... Of course I will stay." I said, almost admonishing her for asking such a trivial question.

"Alright, let's sit down." She said, taking my hand and leading me to the divan I had previously sat down on. I removed my jacket for fear of creasing it and sat back next to Christine...

Christine...

Never had I thought that such a thing would be possible. Perhaps it wasn't, perhaps it would end just as quickly. Regardless I would make the most of the time with her that I was permitted. I was reminded of Madame Giry, and her concerns.

"There is... something you should know as well."Again, she looked at me in fear of what I was about to tell her.

"It's nothing bad, I assure you. Well... it can prove inconvenient for me but, nothing to fear. Madame Giry and I are... acquainted."

"Really?!" She asked, utterly bewildered by the fact.

"Yes. I see no harm in telling you as long as you keep it to yourself. I'm sure that I can trust you as I have trusted her these many years."

"Yes, of course! Where did you two meet? How do you know each other?"

"A long story, I'm afraid. One for another time... I thought I should mention it because she paid me a visit earlier today."

"She did? So... she has been to your home?"

"Oh, yes. She quite rudely barged in while I was sleeping, come to that."

"Oh, she didn't." Christine said, covering her smile with her hands.

"Yes. I wasn't quite dressed either."

"Oh no!" She exclaimed, actually giggling.

"It isn't funny Christine." I warned, holding back a smile myself.

"It is... just a little bit." She laughed, now making no attempt at all at disguising her amusement.

"No!" I said, actually smiling. "It wasn't funny at all, quite embarrassing actually."

"Then why are you smiling?" She teased.

"I... alright, maybe it's a little funny... but I told you because... stop laughing at me!" Christine was visibly laughing now and I had to admit that it was infectious...

"I'm... sorry." She laughed.

"I... No, you aren't." I said, refraining from actual laughter myself. "I didn't mention this for you to make fun of me! She came to see me because she was worried about you."

"Worried?" Christine asked, wiping her eyes.

"Yes. She wanted to know of my intentions."

"Well... she has always been like a mother to me. I still cannot believe that the two of you know each other."

"Yes." I smiled, my eyes distant. She had also spoken of her worry for me but I decided not to mention it. She could see that I was spending more and more time with Christine and her worries were probably warranted. The more time I spent with her, the more I lost myself in the utopia; the perfect world in which I did not belong. With each passing minute I fell more deeply in love with her and with each passing minute I worried that it was too good to be true; that it would be taken away from me. I was well aware that If Christine changed her mind now, I would be utterly broken. And yet... I could not stop myself from giving her everything I had...

She took my hand in hers and began to remove my glove.

"Erik?" She asked as the glove came off.

"...Yes Christine?" My reply was almost automated as I watched her deft hands strip me of yet another one of my defenses.

"Will you take me down to your home on our next meeting?" I watched her remove my other glove and proceed to hold one of my hands in her own. I had already expressed my feelings regarding my home but I found that I could not deny her wish... She was now lightly tracing my fingers with her own and what little resolve I had was lost in her caresses.

"Y...Yes." I replied, still watching her hands. I don't think that she knew what power she possessed or that she was intentionally using it against me. Either way, I could not deny her. I could not even speak. Suddenly I realized that my home would be the perfect opportunity... I could at least cook for her as if it were an actual date...

"Does that feel nice?" she asked, watching my face.

"Yes..." I repeated. Seemingly it was all that was left of my expansive vocabulary. Nice was an understatement... and these were just my hands! She smiled, apparently quite pleased with herself and then suddenly, much to my disappointment, she stopped.

"Can we... Do you mind if we..." I looked at her.

"What is it?"

"I was wondering if you would mind... if we lay down." She asked.

"You... lie down...?" I thought about it for a second. I could not possibly lie down next to her, it was highly improper... wasn't it? Of course, nothing at all would happen... was there anything really terrible about simply lying down next to someone? Of course, I wanted to. Just the image of my body next to hers was enough to make me agree without hesitation but I had to consider her...

"Do you not think it... improper?" I asked her seriously.

"No I... I don't think so. We would just be lying down. Is it improper?" I found humor in the fact that she was asking me about social normalcy. Me. I didn't know any more than she did.

"I don't know..." I answered truthfully.

"Perhaps we should just try it then." She reasoned. "If neither of us is sure... then it isn't really wrong, is it?"

No... Potentially, it wasn't.

Christine lay down on the inside of the divan and I, next to her on my back. This was arguably the most awkward I had ever felt but I didn't want to be anywhere else. As soon as I lay down she draped her arm across my chest and pulled me closer. I had no idea what to do... never before had I been in a situation such as this. I lay next to her awkwardly until she instructed me as to what to do.

"Put your arm around me." She said, gently lifting my arm. Immediately, I obeyed.

"Sorry..." I said. Surely it was not for the woman to have to direct the man in what he was doing. It must have been tedious for her and I felt a complete oaf.

"Don't be sorry." She said quietly, snuggling closer to me.

"What are you doing?" I asked. Surely this was wrong... it felt too good to be right; to be... allowed.

"I'm getting comfortable." She replied innocently. "Just relax."

Relax. How could I relax? This had to be perfect; every action of mine had to be delivered with precision... I didn't want her to think me a fool. I had always been so capable. What had happened?

But I was able to relax. After a few moments of lying next to her it felt as if I had never been anywhere else, never belonged anywhere else.

"Are... are you free tomorrow night..." I began, surprised by my own courage. "...after you see the boy?" Why could I not ask to see her? She wanted to be with me... surely what she was doing was evidence of that.

"Yes." She said sleepily, pulling me closer. I smiled.

"Take me to your home." She said, she was falling asleep, she really was. What was I to do? Surely, I couldn't leave. I certainly couldn't stay where I was and fall asleep... what if someone found us? Worse, what if Madame Giry found us? Regardless, I wasn't in the least bit tired. No, I would simply have to wait until she was fast asleep and leave. It seemed a horrible thing to do...

"Christine..." I whispered.

"Mmm." She mumbled against my neck. Oh, how wonderful it felt.

"I should go..."

"No..." She said, pulling me close once more. "Stay until I'm asleep..."

I sighed. If I stayed, would I have the power to leave? But again... how could I deny her when she was so deliciously pressed up against me?

"Christine...?" I whispered. No response. Time to leave... How could I? She was so inviting, so soft... her face was almost buried in my neck, her warm breath tickling the soft skin there; unbearable but ambrosial. I was reluctant to leave but I could stay no longer, she was undoubtedly asleep. I slipped my arm out from under her, now fraught with pins and needles and gently stood up. She was beautiful... so beautiful.

Collecting my things, I checked my pocket watch; it was quite late, late for those who slept at night anyway. I decided that it would be quite a nice time for a stroll up to the roof. I did a lot of my soul searching up there; a lot of my big thinking... but I had never been up there in such a state of mind... I couldn't go back down to my home; not down there... that darkness. Not just yet. Not while I felt so alive.

Instead of exiting through the mirror, I left through the dressing room door; just as a normal suitor would have...

Normal.

I smiled to myself and closed the door behind me. I put on my jacket and cape as I walked confidently through the halls. I knew that no one would be awake at his hour and even if they were, no one knew the twists and turns of this building better than I. Slowly, I made my way up to the roof, stopping just above the auditorium. I walked above the stage as I had done many times before and found myself in the exact same position I had been when she had found me...

I smiled to myself, stroking the splintering wood of the rafters pensively, almost fondly. So much had changed. I moved my foot to adjust my stance when it was met with something on the ground; my lasso. I must have left it behind when I had let Buquet escape. I bent down to pick it up, and when I rose I was met with a voice.

"Ghost." It said. I turned around slowly.

Buquet.

"Is that a question or a statement?" I asked. I was somewhat surprised by his presence but not entirely. I had let him go after all and even then I had known it to be a faux pas... He had seen me. I should never have let him go. I could not help but toy with this man for he looked utterly ridiculous; pointing a knife at me as if he were the one in power. Even with the weapon in his hand, he looked utterly terrified.

"You shouldn't have let me go." He said, ignoring my rhetorical question.

"No, you're quite right." I said, walking towards him. He stepped back and raised his weapon. "I shouldn't have. I'm happy to remedy that though." I threatened.

"Not another step."

"Or what?" I asked. "I don't suppose a man like you could stop me." I had always loathed this man. He was filth; did not deserve life. I had seen him doing horrible things; looking in on the chorus girls changing, stealing... but worse, he had seen me. And I simply could not have that. How was it that someone such as him was permitted to live a normal life, a life above ground with all of the pleasures and rights of a normal man when I was reviled for the way that I looked? It was not fair... It was not just. It was time to even things out. I stepped towards him again with my lasso firmly in my grasp.

"Don't come any closer, Ghost." He said, waving the knife in front of me.

"Ghost." I repeated under my breath as I continued walking. He waved his knife again, lumbering forward and closely missing my arm. I looked at him and shook my head.

"I will kill you!" He jeered, his filthy brown hair falling in his face. "And when I do, I will find that Christine you love so much..."

Christine? The mention of her name distracted me momentarily and I lost focus. Buquet threw his knife in my direction but I managed to evade the brunt of it. I yelled as the blade sliced my side. Before I knew what I was doing, the rope was around his neck.

"You will not so much as LOOK at her!" I yelled as I pulled with all my strength.

After a few moments, he was still. It was done.

All of a sudden Christine's face came to mind; flooded my vision, my thoughts and every fiber of my being. Christine... How could I have forgotten? I had grown so accustomed to living my life without consequences, without having to trouble myself with the opinions of others that I had completely forgotten that I had something to lose. She would hate me for this. She would hate me. She would likely never speak to me again! What had I done?

I couldn't breathe... I stepped backward shakily, holding on to whatever I could in order to retain my balance. She would end it... This was the end. I had ruined everything. My heart was beating fast and I found that my cravat and collar were suddenly much too tight. I was suffocating. I had to get out... I needed air. I couldn't be in this prison a second longer. Hastily I made my way to the roof, holding my side and clawing at my throat in an attempt to let air in when, in reality I had more than enough.

I climbed the stairs, three at a time, stumbling here and there but never stopping. I had to get out. Finally I reached the rooftop, almost exploding through the door and falling to my knees in the snow. My head was spinning. My side was on fire but I did not care. It was not important. What was I going to do? I could not change anything... Perhaps she would not know? Perhaps I would not have to tell her that I was responsible...

What was I thinking? Of course I would have to tell her...

It was ruined and I had been the cause... I had known that it was too good to be true.

I held my head in my hands and wept. I wept unabashedly for what I had done and for what my actions would cause.

Christine... I'm so sorry...

So, it was destined to happen anyway... but what will change now that Christine and Erik have already formed a bond?

#poto #tpoto #phantom #phantom of the opera #fanfic #phanfic #phanty #2004 phantom #tophatsnap #nothing but a man #erik #christine daae #raouly #gaston leroux #andrew lloyd webber

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