#Notes to the Opera Populaire

[master-of-the-opera-house]

Decided to make myself known as the Sophie obsessive with a ton of photos of her (and her siblings):

Plus one of Franz and his son Maximilian, as a treat:

:0

[rank-sentimentalist]

Opera Populaire on Social Media

When asked about engagement on their social media posts, Msrs. Andre and Firmin had this to say:

Far too many notes for my taste

And most of them about Christine

All we've heard since we came

Is Miss Daae's name.

[changbunnies]

Angel of Music (18+)

♡ Pairing: Phantom!Minho x Opera Singer Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: phantom of the opera inspired au, horror themes, dark romance, age gap, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :'), the ending is also a lil dark, sorry!

♡ Word Count: 5.8k

♡ Summary: A phantom exists in the opera house– he controls every production from the shadows, lurks around every dark corner, always watching. In your dreams exists an angel– a guardian that sings to you, guides you, and comforts you. When The Phantom appears before you in your dressing room mirror, you begin to realize that he and your angel may be one in the same.

♡ General Warnings: slightly less extreme age gap than the source material that inspires this fic but it's still fairly large (reader is ~mid 20s and minho is ~40), briefly described attempted murder of minor characters, implications of stalking, hypnotism, hallucinations + doubts of reality, so much usage of the words "phantom" and "angel" it's not even funny, this fic is not an accurate representation of how hypnotism works irl but it's fiction so i'm taking liberties!

♡ Smut Warnings: dubcon (due to reader being hypnotized), additionally to not being in their proper state of mind, there are also moments in which reader does not feel to be in full control of their body, light dom/sub dynamics, soft pleasure dom!minho because i want more of him !!, mask kink (does it still count if the mask doesn't cover his whole face?? idk i hope so!), some biting, oral (f rec), overstim, multiple orgasms

♡ Notes: i've known for ages that i wanted to write a phantom!minho fic, and my kinktober series gave me the perfect reason to finally write it! also the fact that both my uploaded minho fics are age gap romances?? that was not intentional i swear lmao

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

All inhabitants of the opera house have been on edge these days– consequence of the new owners of the Opera Populaire, who decided to disregard all of The Phantom's demands.

The Phantom, as the name suggests, is a ghost story of sorts. According to your castmates, he has been here since long before you joined the Opera Populaire's trainees last year, but his activity has begun to increase since your arrival.

He controls all in the opera house, and his demands of the previous owner were always quite simple; perform what shows he instructs you to, follow his casting down to the letter, and keep the seats in Box Five free at all times. Evidentially, Box Five is his favorite place to watch the shows from– and sometimes, his dark silhouette can be spotted in the shadows of the booth, indiscernible but unmistakably there.

No one has ever truly seen The Phantom beyond a shadow, nor have they heard him speak. He communicates with notes, always left within feet of the recipient without anyone having seen him come or go. His notes will even appear in broad daylight, with not a single person having caught a glimpse of him despite all the eyes in the room.

Well, more accurately, no one has seen him apart from the Madame– an older woman who used to be a performer for the Opera Populaire herself, but has taken the role of choreographer since her retirement from the stage. In the 15 years it's been since The Phantom made his presence known to the opera house, she's the only one who's ever seen him, or heard his voice.

A brief encounter, she explained when asked about it– had barely seen him for more than a few passing moments. He spoke little, but the beauty of his voice was striking, completely unlike any other she’d ever heard. And all he asked of her, in that fleeting moment, was to remember that the Opera Populaire is his home– and as long as the inhabitants respect him, he'll respect them in turn.

The previous director, the Madame, and The Phantom all had a mutual understanding of what was to be done. As long as they listened to him, shows would go off without a hitch; but refuse, and there'd be dire consequences. As such, the Madame has been doing her best to express the importance of listening to The Phantom to the new owners.

The Monsieurs view it as no more than silly superstition– every opera house has their own beliefs and customs, things they consider good and bad luck before a show, things they view as omens of a show's future success. The Phantom is simply one of those things– and with a guiding hand, they can dispel such superstitions, show the cast and crew that there is no shadowy phantom to fear.

The first note left for the Monsieurs went disregarded– a barking laugh leaving the elder of the two before he tossed it in the bin. The instructions on the note were clear enough– you were to take the role of Eurydice in the opera house's production of Orpheus and Eurydice, and not Carlotta, as they originally casted.

You were just as baffled as everyone else to learn that The Phantom wanted you to take such an important role– you'd only been here a year, were still so new to your opera training. It's true enough that you have a good voice, and your dancing has improved with all your diligent practice, but you're still young, and the tragic role of Eurydice is not so easily performed.

Natural talent for bringing emotion to performance aside, you lack stage experience– experience that you can easily gain from background roles. To make you such a crucial stand-out role after only a year of training was simply unheard of– no opera house would do it!

This is to be your first production, your first time on stage in front of an audience; and so regardless of what The Phantom wants, Monsieur Reyer opted to keep you strictly in the supporting chorus roles, where you would go from shepherdess, to nymph, to spirit as the acts progressed. Not a glamorous, shining position in the cast by any means, but more than enough to help familiarize you with the reality of performing with hundreds of eyes watching.

It wouldn't take long for The Phantom to make his displeasure with the decision known. And what started off as just small accidents and stage mishaps quickly turned violent and dangerous as each week passed with you still not given the role that The Phantom felt you deserved to have.

The first violent turn came during rehearsals for Act 3, right in the middle of Eurydice's climactic aria, when the chandelier above the stage came crashing down. Carlotta was standing directly beneath it just before it fell, and it narrowly missed her– purely because she happened to take a few steps forward whilst singing.

“An unfortunate accident,” the Monsieurs said, “it had nothing to do with The Phantom!” But the veterans of the opera house knew better– and the conductor swore he saw a dark shadow on the scaffolds just before the chandelier fell; a shadow that could belong to none other than The Phantom.

Carlotta screamed as it crashed just mere inches away from her, right where she's just been standing, and cried as everyone rushed to her side to ensure that she was unharmed. Again, the Madame tried to persuade them to heed The Phantom before another such “accident�� occurred.

"Good God in Heaven, you're all obsessed! These things just happen sometimes– there is no phantom!" Reyer cried in exasperation over everyone's insistence, still unwilling to give in to the idea that the opera house's ghost was real.

And tonight, just after rehearsals came to a close, another terrible stage accident occurred– this time happening to Monsieur Reyer himself. He was up on the scaffolding when it happened, making sure all the stagehands properly rigged the lights in preparation for tomorrow night's premiere of Orpheus and Eurydice.

He was bent down, inspecting the bulbs and wires, when a dark figure appeared behind him. The shadow wrapped a noose around his neck faster than anyone could even react, pushed him off the scaffolding before swiftly retreating back to the shadows.

Reyer almost didn't survive– he was lucky that the nearby stagehands were quick on their feet and in their wits, managing to grab his arms and pull him up while another cut the rope that served to hang the poor man. And as if the message from the accidents alone weren't clear enough, another note was left behind right in the middle of the stage.

It was astounding, really, that not a single person saw The Phantom leave the note behind– and while some could argue that it was because all eyes were on Reyer, or because the stage became chaos as they worked to save him, the Monsieurs realized that maybe they should start to believe that there really is a ghost inhabiting the Opera Populaire.

The moment the note was noticed, the Madame picked it up, and read it aloud for all to hear. "Again, I remind you that Y/N will play the role of Eurydice. As I instruct, Box Five shall remain open for my use. These seats will not be used by another. This is my final warning– disregard at your own risk."

Realizing they had no choice, lest they wish to continue putting themselves and other cast and crew in danger, the Monsieurs begrudgingly declared you the new Eurydice, right then and there.

Given that you're at every rehearsal, you know Eurydice's lines by heart, and are confident that you can sing them well– but still, you're nervous. It's your first production, the premiere is sold out, is set for tomorrow night, and suddenly you're in one of the most pivotal roles in the entire opera.

You don't even understand why The Phantom is so adamant about giving the role to you; what is it about you that he likes, what is it that he sees in you? You wish you could ask the Madame, but she met him so fleetingly, and so many years ago– she has no way of knowing The Phantom's heart beyond an educated guess.

Sitting before your dressing room mirror, you sigh, utterly exhausted– now that you're Eurydice, it was vital that you do a last minute costume fitting and makeup test. As such, you've been in the opera house hours past the time you'd normally be here. The moon hangs high in the sky now, you're sure; you wonder if you should just spend the night here, sleep in the dressing room instead of making a late trek home.

Regardless, you hope your angel comes to you tonight. You know no one would believe you if you told them, but you really do have a guardian angel; and in your dreams, he comes to you– always when you are most lost and in need of guidance. He's a gentle, calming presence; always comforts you, talks to you sweetly when you're filled with self doubt, sings to you in the most beautiful of voices.

You've never actually seen your angel clearly– only heard his voice calling your name and whispering, singing, in a way that could only be described as angelic in its serenity. In your dreams, he's nothing but a vague, blurry image– even at his most clear, you can't define any of his features.

Still, you think of him fondly– and you suspect that as an angel, you aren't meant to be able to fully perceive him. And your angel always, always, knows when you need him– you suspect that even now, he's waiting; waiting for the moment you fall asleep, so that he can come to your side.

You look at yourself, still dressed as Eurydice. A beautiful, off shoulder bateau gown in the prettiest, purest ivory. There's lace appliques throughout the gown, has a beautiful cinched bodice before the tulle skirt fluffs out. It's elegant, makes you feel like a bride waiting to walk down the aisle.

Your makeup shimmers– extra glitter applied on your eyelids to make sure the stage lights catch it. Your jewelry too, is extravagant– made to sparkle and shine every time a light shines on you, to twinkle with each subtle move you make. It's a shame you have to take it all off just to put it all back on tomorrow– but the effort to make sure everything fits you was necessary.

You reach your hands up to one of your ears, prepare to remove one of your dangling earrings when you hear a voice you know all too well call your name– your angel's voice.

You look around the room, bewildered, but see nothing and no one. And surely you were mistaken– you're still awake! Your angel only comes to you in dreams, and you haven't fallen asleep... right? You are still awake, aren't you?

Again, you hear his voice, another whisper of your name. You rise from your chair, look around the room once more– no one. You turn back to the dressing room mirror, and jump in surprise, realizing that the view reflected in it has changed. You no longer see yourself, or the reflection of the dressing room around you– instead, you see a man.

He looks just as the Madame described her memory of The Phantom– dark hair, and even darker eyes, with a white mask that covers the right half of his face. Not completely– just from his hairline, down to his pretty, plump lips. Every inch of his skin is covered, head to toe, all of his clothes pure black apart from the ornate red vest.

Sleek boots and dark trousers, a tall collar that obscures most of his neck, long sleeves that cover his arms, even gloves covering his hands. He wears a cape, long and as dark as the rest of his clothes, and it blows behind him as if there’s a breeze rolling through.

You’re confused, a little frightened, but you can’t tear your eyes away or will yourself to flee– and as the figure speaks your name, you gasp; he truly has the voice of your angel. But he’s The Phantom, isn’t he? 

The blurry, vague scenery behind him begins to sharpen, coming more distinctly visible to your uncertain eyes. A dark corridor full of candelabra, glowing in dull yellows and shades of orange, held by incorporeal hands with no discernable origin.

What little of your dressing room you see in your peripheral shifts and warps as you stare at him, blur together into dark shadows as the table holding your hairbrush and makeup begin to fade and disappear, leaving the view through the mirror as the only thing you can see.

The figure– your angel, The Phantom?– holds his hand out to you through the mirror, as if the glass that should separate you no longer exists; perhaps it doesn't. Smoke– or maybe fog, mist? you can't be certain– pours into the room as you approach the mirror.

As if under a spell, you reach out to take his hand, thinking not of logic as you follow the beckoning call of your name. Your angel; you trust your angel. He smiles as you place your hand in his, and carefully, you step through the mirror, into the corridor.

Entranced, you stare at him; even with half a mask covering his face, he's utterly beautiful. He appears to be older than you, hints of fine lines beholden around his mouth and eyes, and even that adds to his mysterious charm. He holds your gaze as he takes a step back, a candelabra in his hand now, beckoning you to follow him down the corridor.

You squeeze his hand as you follow, and finally he turns around, walks with purpose as he guides you, glancing behind every so often to look at you in what you think to be adoration. You too, glance behind– and where the mirror once stood is now a desolate, barren wall.

You do not see any hint of your dressing room, or of the mirror you stepped through. And as you continue further down the corridor, the candelabra that were once behind you slowly begin to blink out and vanish from sight, leaving only pitch black darkness behind. A spiral staircase made of stone manifests, and you descend it, hand in hand with your angel.

You're so enchanted and bewildered, you can't seem to find your voice– all you can do is follow, let him guide you along to where it is he wants you to be. Even the staircase dissipates when you've finished descending, and for just a moment, you wonder– is any of this truly real?

Finally, you stand in the middle of a beautiful room, lit candles both resting in more candelabra and strewn about the floor, with dark, intricately woven tapestries hanging from the stone walls. There’s a grand piano, sleek black with gold accents, with even more candles resting atop it, as well as a sheet of music sitting pristine on the music desk, black ink seemingly freshly dried, just waiting to be played. 

There are several mirrors, though only one remains uncovered– the rest are obscured by cloth, for reasons you do not know. There is a bed, in what you suppose would be called a “corner” in this otherwise circular space, inviting and plush in its appearance, with blankets colored a rich red. Naturally, candles surround the bed as well, covering it in a beautifully soft, yellow-orange glow. 

“Where are we?” you finally find your voice to ask, and the man smiles as he beckons you to follow him towards his bed. “We are home,” he replies, and though it’s a strange answer, you feel you understand– yes, you are home. This is home. 

You gaze at him curiously after you sit on the bed, just as comfortable as you expected it to be, and he mimics the way you’ve tilted your head at him. “You’re.. My angel, aren’t you? Or are you The Phantom?” you ask, and the man laughs ever so softly, melodious and beautiful. 

“I am Minho,” he responds, as if that alone is a sufficient enough answer– in a way, you suppose it is. What else is there to know? He is Minho. That is enough.

“I have longed to touch you, to bring you here,” Minho whispers as he reaches one of his gloved hands to your face, strokes your cheek slowly, gently. The sensation, though simple, feels so tender– it sparks something inside you, fills you with a warmth you’ve never felt before. You close your eyes, bask in the comfort his touch provides you. 

You feel his hand move, travel down until his fingers are under your chin. He tilts your head up, and you open your eyes to see him gazing down at you warmly. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, speaking to you as gently as he always does. He’s said it before, in your dreams– that you are beautiful, talented, deserving of all you wish to have.

He never lets you linger on self-doubt, never allows you to think you are lesser than someone else, or undeserving of the opportunities you’ve been granted. Your angel knows you– you think he’s appearing to you now, like this, because he knows you are uncertain of playing Eurydice; he must think that he needs to remind you of just how special you are. 

All of your doubts about tomorrow’s premiere– he will dispel them from your mind, as he always does. He kneels before you, gazing at you carefully as he inches closer to you, his hands softly rubbing over your shoulders and down your arms. His attentive stare as he caresses you makes you breathing quicken, your heart starting to pick up speed.

“Do you trust me?” Minho asks suddenly, and with not an ounce of hesitation, you nod. You’ve no reason not to trust him– in the year it's been since your angel first appeared to you, you’ve always trusted him. There is no one else that makes you feel so secure, so at peace, so.. Loved, cared for. Yes, your angel, Minho, loves you, cares for you like no other. You trust him. 

“I wish to clear your mind of worry and doubt– to make you think only of me, and the music we can make together. I wish to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you," he says, and oh, he knows he shouldn’t be pouring his heart out like this, for it’s too soon, much too soon. But he’s been enamored with you since the first moment you stepped into the Opera Populaire, has been infatuated with you since first hearing the passion in your voice.

He can’t help it, it seems– now that he has you here, in his lair, his defenses falter, all of his desires pouring out of him. To have you here, and to touch you like this, even so simply– it’s everything he’s wanted. And instantly, unconsciously, you reach out to him. Your angel sees you, knows you– you wish to know him too, to understand him the way he does you.

Your mind is somehow as clear as it is hazy– clear, because you know what it is that you want. Regardless of who he is, what he is, you want Minho to have you. Anything he wants, you feel compelled to give, as if it’s all you know; and in this moment, perhaps it is. In the very back reaches of your addled mind, a reminder blares– The Phantom always gets what he wants. 

And what he wants now, most of all, is you; and despite what logic may tell you to feel, you trust him to have you. He sees all that you feel in your expression alone, knows all that you think as if he’s seen into the depths of your mind. Even now, perhaps more than ever before, he sees you. 

Sees all that you are, and all that you want– and a charming smile plays on his lips as you gaze at him with wanton desire to let him take you. To let him have, to give yourself over– you wish to offer yourself wholly to your angel’s desires.

Your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you, a soft press that you could almost call chaste, his hands slowly moving over your body, each soft touch lingering. You don’t feel his gloves anymore, you realize– did he take them off without you noticing? You suppose it doesn’t matter– his hands are warm, a bit rough and calloused against the soft skin of your arms, and you like it.

Even as his kisses become less chaste, deepen as his hands travel to your hips, they remain slow and purposeful. His hands eventually find the bottom of your dress, begin to lift it ever so slowly up your thighs– not to expose you, but so that he can slot himself between your legs. Somehow, innately, you understand this– and easily, you spread your legs for him, allowing him to find his place between them.

His arms wrap around you after, pulling you closer, pressing your body to his. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly by the time he pulls away, breathless as you look to him with eager, impassioned eyes– a gaze that heats his otherwise cold heart. You reach up, bring your hands to his face; he nearly flinches when you touch his mask, though he knows you mean no harm. 

Minho feels himself ugly under his mask– too scarred and disfigured to be appealing to you in any regard; at least like this, with only the good parts of his face on display, you may find him handsome. Your touch is as soft as your gaze, and though perhaps you should, you make no move to remove his mask; you simply rub your thumb over the cold porcelain.

It’s a vulnerable thing, really– how softly you touch his ugliest spots. It doesn’t matter that you can’t see them from beneath his mask– the tender regard you seem to feel for him, even without having seen the scars that mar him, is more than enough. It’s ironic, in a way, that you seem to think he’s an angel; in reality, the only angel in this room is you. 

“I want to please you, if you'll let me,” he breathes as his fingertips ghost over your thighs. It makes your breath hitch, blinking at him slowly as you process his intent. There is much your angel wants– but chasing the pleasure of his own flesh isn’t one of those things. He doesn’t need it to feel satisfied; your pleasure will more than suffice him.

His dark eyes bore into yours as he awaits your answer, can tell from his wanting gaze how serious he is about pleasing you, and it makes your cheeks slowly bloom with heat. And it’s not just what he wants– it’s what he needs, really; when you surrender yourself to him, he wants it to be for your pleasure, not his own. 

“Oh, please– touch me,” you answer, plead– because something from deep inside you screams for it, wanting it beyond all comprehension. Your darkest, most innate desires manifest for him; desires that you didn’t even fully realize you had. They possess you, drive you to kiss him again, urgent and passionate. 

Minho returns your kiss with equal fervor, lets his tongue slip past his lips to meet yours. They share a dance, swirl around each other until you’re breathless again; and then he’s guiding you back, urging you to lay down as he hovers over you. He pulls the skirt of your dress further up your body, until your thighs are entirely exposed and he can see your dampening panties. 

He lowers himself to you, but doesn’t go immediately where you expect him too– he takes his time trailing wet, lingering kisses over your thighs instead. Your inner thighs are sensitive, ticklish, and you can’t help but squirm from each kiss he grants you.

You also can’t help but jolt each time the cool porcelain of his mask presses against the hot skin of your thigh, and again when he carefully sinks his teeth into your pliant flesh. He doesn't do it hard enough to hurt, or even fully leave indents of his teeth behind– just enough to leave you panting and squirmy; and he lets out a soft, airy laugh every time he succeeds in the endeavor. 

Your bunched up skirt is so full that you can hardly even watch him work you up; but there are times, while kissing and biting over your trembling thighs, that he lifts his head just enough to let you catch his gaze. It makes your heart skip a beat, butterflies dancing in your stomach every time he locks eyes with you while kissing around where you need him most.

You reach a point where you’re no longer squirming because his attention tickles, but because you’re becoming desperate, impatient; and the way he stares at you as he does it all doesn't help in the slightest. “Minho, please,” you whine, shameless; and you can feel him smile against your skin before he lifts himself up from his place between your legs. 

“Needy are we, angel?” he asks, grinning as you pout and nod. “Need you,” you mumble, but he hears you loud and clear; he’s attuned to you, your angel is. He lowers himself between your thighs once more, kisses your pussy over your panties– and it’s not quite what you need, but it’s enough to have you gasping and quivering. 

Again, he takes his time, as if not a single ounce of urgency resides within him. And make no mistake, it does– but Minho knows how to restrain himself. He’s a stubborn man, that is certainly true, but he’s also perfectly in control of himself; for now, anyways. 

And he likes the way you whine for him when you feel his tongue lick you up over the fabric of your panties. It’s not a full enough feeling for you, or a full enough taste of your pussy for him, but the desperate, whiny sounds it draws out of you are delicious enough to satisfy him.  

Still, while he’s enjoying the way his soft kisses and kitten licks over your panties is making you writhe and cry for him, he also can’t deny how badly he wants to finally taste you directly on his tongue. He’s been patient enough, he thinks, and so have you– why not indulge just a little sooner than planned?

In contrast to how sweetly he’s treated you up to this point, he’s quick to tear your panties away from your body. The sound of the fabric ripping makes you gasp, and maybe later he’ll apologize– but for now, lapping his tongue between your folds is of more importance. You moan when his tongue finally meets your bare pussy, as does Minho– and despite the hunger that he feels, he continues to lick you over slowly. 

The languid pace makes you crazy– you want more, so much more, but your angel has been waiting for this; he needs to take his time with you, needs to embed the taste of your dripping sex on his tongue, needs to make sure it’s something he’ll never be able to forget. And he isn’t trying to tease you by keeping the slow pace– well, maybe he is a little; he does enjoy it, after all– but he’s sincerely craved this for too long to let the moment quickly pass him by. 

He brings his hands to your thighs, squeezing them in his hands and preventing you from closing them around his head. You’re sure it’s partly so he can keep you spread out for him, to keep enjoying the easy access to your pussy, but it’s also so that your trembling thighs don’t cause his mask to shift, and fall from his face. 

You gasp when the cool, smooth and rigid porcelain covering the right side of his nose bumps your clit as he shoves his tongue into your hole. And while he isn’t purposely trying to get you to cum just yet, his slow but diligent ministrations are getting you there regardless– with his tongue dipping in and out of your heat, always pushing in as deep as he can make it go, and his mask-covered nose nudging your clit. 

You let your head fall back against the bed, your every high pitched whimper and moan echoing off the stone walls surrounding you. You try to tell him you’re going to cum, but you fail miserably– all that leaves you is a quick succession of whines before your eyes are rolling, back bowing off the bed as release on his tongue. Minho moans with you, hums happily as he licks the mess from your pussy like the cat that got the cream. 

He laves over your clit when he’s done licking up your cum– and it's sensitive, swollen from your orgasm; but that doesn’t stop him from swirling his tongue around it, and positively knocking the air from your lungs. The sensation is overwhelming, he knows it is even without you telling him, but it’s still so good that you don’t want to squirm away, or ask him to stop– or perhaps you can’t. 

You get the distinct feeling that even if you tried, your limbs would resist, would fight to keep you in place– despite your best efforts, you would remain just as you are now. Spread open and trembling, exactly how Minho wants you. “You make the prettiest music, angel,” he separates from you long enough to speak, “want you to keep singing for me.”

And sing for him you do when he dives back in, flicks your clit with his tongue a few times before wrapping his lips around it, sucking it like a piece of hard candy. Your moans, the smacking sounds of his lips, the way he hums when he returns to your hole to collect the cream– it’s an orchestra, just for the two of you.

You cum again in record time, of course you do. Minho finds it cute, the way you incoherently babble away as you let go for him again. And he isn’t done just because you came again– no, he’s far from finished with your pussy. He doesn’t tire in the slightest, ceaseless in the way he lavishes with you his tongue and suckles with his pretty, perfect lips. 

When you cum for the third time, you don’t even know if you truly ever stop cumming at all– the pleasure just keeps coming in waves, never fully receding before it builds again, washing over you like a tsunami before it all repeats. You writhe and twist, back repeatedly bowing off his bed before falling back, but your thighs stay spread for him, even when his hands stop holding them down. 

His hands have found their way beneath you, cupping and squeezing your ass as he eats away. Your hips wriggle, and he helps grind you up against his face, moaning and humming all the while. It’s too much and not enough all at once; your body screams that it can’t take it, and yet your mind screams that it needs more, and God, you can’t think straight– but is there any point in this night that you were?

You’re hot and heaving, sweat dripping from your brow as you tremble and bend. Minho is hot too, of course– his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his face red from his cheeks to his ears, and even down his neck. And were you not so far gone, you’d have noticed that his mask has shifted and fallen from his face. 

It was because of you, too– when another high took you and tugged on his hair hard, crying as your hips jolted and bucked against his face. He should’ve swiftly put it back on, lest you see his scars, but he didn’t– he just shoved it aside, against his better judgment, so he could keep licking you up without interruption. 

You feel positively delirious by the time he’s finished, eyes heavy and bleary, body utterly limp and boneless. He crawls his way up to you, and your gaze is unfocused, blurry; you can hardly distinguish his features anymore– similar to the way he always appeared in your dreams before now.

Regardless, you smile at him before you close your eyes; a weak, but content one that Minho finds oh so endearing. You’re beyond fatigued, but also feel an unmatched sense of elation as your angel strokes your head and whispers sweet nothings for you to fall asleep to. “You belong to me now,” you hear him say, just before you drift off– and you know it’s true. 

You think, perhaps, you’ve always belonged to him. From the very first moment Minho saw you, he knew he was never going to let you go. And just as Orpheus had done for Eurydice, he’d gladly walk into the depths of Hades itself if that’s what it took to keep you by his side. 

He gently caresses your cheek as you fall into a deeper sleep, presses a soft kiss to your lips and whispers a final soft utterance of love before he covers you with a blanket, and your mind goes completely dark for the night. 

You wake the next day with a struggle– at least, you think it’s the next day; it’s too dark in the room you’re in to tell for certain. You reach out for Minho, but don’t feel him anywhere– and as you sit up, and your eyes adjust to the darkness, you realize that you are alone. Your brows furrow as you look around; you’re still in his room, but it doesn’t look quite the same. 

There are no candles, not on the floor or in the candelabra that now lie empty. The tapestries adorning the walls are torn and dulled in color, the piano dusty and the gold decorating it chipped. The sheet of music that sits on the piano’s music desk, that last night looked so fresh and pristine, now appears weathered and yellowed.

As you grab the blanket to pull it off you, you realize it isn't a blanket at all that is covering you, but a cape– Minho’s cape. And on the bed, just an arm’s reach away from you lies a note– the same kind that The Phantom always leaves behind inside the Opera Populaire.

Your hand trembles as you pick it up, eyes straining to read it in the darkness. The message he leaves behind, when your eyes focus on the words well enough to read them, is quite simple. “To my beloved and beautiful Eurydice; welcome home.”

[willows-escape]

Phantom HCs - Cherik with a Chubby!Reader

Pairing: 1990!Erik x GN!Reader

Warnings: fatphobia and nsfw content (has its own section)

Word Count: 2,370

Notes: This was a request that somebody sent me that I was really eager to write, as somebody who is plus sized/chubby myself. I might do it with the rest of the Phantoms I write for, but I don't know if that's something people would want to read?

Also, the series I spoke about in an earlier post - it’s still being worked on, but it shouldn’t hopefully be much longer. I’m looking to write around 11-ish parts, probably more, and I want to have three solid chapters written before I post the first one. Just so I can have the chapters to post while writing the next few. Having both female and male versions to write is also slowing it down, but I hope the wait will be worth it !

⟢ Erik does NOT care if you're chubby, skinny, average size or whatever. Your size isn't even a thing to him.

⟢ This Erik isn't as focused on stereotypical beauty as the others - he originally takes notice of Christine due to her voice, and the fact she looks like his mother is only an extra added bonus lol.

⟢ So I feel like your appearance is just not an important factor to him. It would be other things about you that would attract him first. Anyone could be stereotypically attractive, but not everyone could be you.

⟢ But don't be mistaken, he definitely thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world.

⟢ If you worked at the Opera Populaire, and he saw the way other workers teased you or gossiped behind your back, he'd be scratching his head in confusion.

⟢ He may be hopelessly infatuated, but he couldn't see anything about you that was laughable.

⟢ I'm not trying to imply this Phantom is ignorant or unaware of societal norms - unlike the others, he has a strong relationship with somebody who links him to the outside world. He hides due to his own flaws, after all.

⟢ He knows being slender and thin is the current ideal, but he also knows that ten years ago having a bigger body with soft curves was also largely desirable. So he didn't like to pay much attention to societies trends. They changed like the wind.

⟢ Which is why he'd sometimes forget that not everybody looked at you as if you were an angel that was sent from heaven to grace the earth.

⟢ If people's teasing and rude comments ever affected you so deeply that you brought it up to him, that would be the only time he ever acknowledged your body type. And his acknowledgement would only be vehement reassurance and exclamations of his affection towards you.

⟢ "But my cheeks are so fat, it makes my face look like a ball!"

⟢ "A very beautiful and loveable ball!"

⟢ He wasn't great at the whole reassurance thing.

⟢ After a while of courting you and as he began to realise how cruel some people could be to the most gorgeous person he knew - he began to feel a sense of solidarity with you.

⟢ He believed he was beyond hope and that he could never be accepted into the real world, and he wouldn't ever insult you by trying to say you were as repulsive as him. You were anything but that. Yet he felt as if you two were on some kind of wavelength.

⟢ You were both looked down upon for things as flimsy as physical appearances, and he felt a little closer to you due to that.

⟢ And he had a few existential crisis' where he laid awake at night thinking about how maybe society is the problem, not him, because how can they even ridicule you when you were perfection!

⟢ Then he'd take off his mask and look in the mirror and be like nope, he's definitely the problem.

⟢ Anyways. Less sadness and insecurity, and more fluff!

⟢ He loved how comfortable and soft you were. Erik had never held another person in his arms before you, never laid with his head on somebodies lap while they read him a book and mindlessly ran their fingers through his hair.

⟢ And he loved it.

⟢ His favourite time of day was when it came time to go to sleep, and he could lay with his head on your chest, arms wrapped around your waist and drift off into sweet sleep.

⟢ It took him a while to become so comfortable with this, though. It was weird enough that you two didn't have a chaperone during your meetings, never mind sharing affection. But if you asked him enough and tried to sneak in lingering touches and small caresses, he'd fold.

⟢ "Want to hold my hand yet?"

⟢ "Same answer as half hour ago, no."

⟢ "Am I truly so horrid that you do not wish to even hold my hand?"

⟢ "That is not what I said."

⟢ He didn't understand that couples followed these courtship rules in public, but were definitely smooching and snuggling in private. Even if you tried to explain that to him.

⟢ But eventually he caved.

⟢ He was touch starved beyond belief, so it didn't take him long to give in. Maybe a month or so. But it was also an awkward experience for him at first, so expect to give him a lot of guidance.

⟢ "This just doesn't feel right, why on earth would somebody lay like this when they are far more efficient and comfortable positions for somebody to lay?"

⟢ "That's because your arm's meant to be behind my neck, Erik, not over it."

⟢ "Ah. Yes, that feels better."

⟢ But once he got the hang of it, he was obsessed. Every part of you just fit so perfectly in his arms, you slotted together like puzzle pieces. It was glorious.

⟢ If you ever lived together, whether that be you go down below to stay with him or he manages to somehow bring himself to live with you amongst the real world (which would take many years and a ton of hard work), your evening conversations may look a bit like this:

⟢ "Excuse me, but when are you retiring to bed? Your scarf can wait until the morning." He was subtly glaring down at the knitting needles cradled in your hands as he spoke.

⟢ "Not long, just give me a few more minutes. I just want to complete this row of stitches."

⟢ "Alright, but when you come to bed, can you wear some of your summer nightwear?"

⟢ "But why? We're in the middle of winter, I'll freeze."

⟢ "I'll keep you warm." *leaves*

⟢ He definitely didn't just prefer the thinner fabric of your summer nightwear, which meant he could feel your body press against his and also allowed him to feel every curve of your figure with no barrier.

⟢ If you ever got married, expect him to just ask you to sleep naked. Not even for sexual reasons, he just loves the feeling of you.

⟢ You'd have a hard time refusing him in the colder months.

⟢ Also, imagine him singing you to sleep? His back resting against the headboard while you snuggled up against him, his hands delicately trailing over your skin and leaving goosebumps in their path as he sung to you.

⟢ That's an idea to elaborate on for another day.

⟢ Returning to the previous topic of his love of physical affection, kissing you would be magical.

⟢ And he'd be terrible at it.

⟢ The first time you kissed, you'd be the person to lean in first. And he'd look at you as if you'd grown two heads, but he wouldn't deny you. He'd go through many mood swings in the two seconds it took for your lips to touch.

⟢ "Erik," you'd eventually have to pull away, "Pucker your lips, and close your mouth a bit."

⟢ "My apologies."

⟢ That also has nothing to do with the head canon topic, I just wanted to include that.

⟢ Erik would love to draw you. Before he ever approached you, he'd spend his time making sketch after sketch of you, trying to immortalise every vision of you he had in his mind.

⟢ He'd get frustrated that he couldn't properly capture your true charm, but after a while of drawing for hours a day for a long period of time, he'd soon become an incredible artist. He wouldn't use this particular skill for much, unless you asked him to.

⟢ He also couldn't really draw anything that wasn't a person, considering his practice was very limited to one subject.

⟢ He'd have to send Gerard on trips to the store often to keep up with his new hobby.

⟢ "Erik, why do you suddenly need all this paper? The store clerk said he's had to order an earlier shipment of the stuff, because I'm buying up all his supply!"

⟢ "You wouldn't understand."

⟢ He'd also design and create the prettiest clothes for you, ones that would flaunt and uhm, extenuate, your best assets. So much material and thread would be stolen from the company in his pursuits.

⟢ He'd start doing this before you two even properly met, and when you began courting, you'd be taken aback by his display of clothing that he kept scattered around the catacombs.

⟢ Those dresses were probably not intended for him.

⟢ You'd grow especially suspicious when he began offering you these items of clothing, and how they all seemed to perfectly fit you like a glove.

⟢ "Erik, why are all these clothes my size? It's as if you took a measuring tape and made these clothes specifically to fit me."

⟢ "Just things the costume department had laying around."

⟢ "The costume department definitely does not keep clothing in my size."

⟢ "Well, they did when I got them."

⟢ Moving on lol

⟢ There are many reasons somebody may gain weight, but assuming you don't have a condition that causes it and simply appreciated food, Erik would be floored at all your weird and wonderful ways of preparing and eating your meals.

⟢ "What is in this bottle? It looks grainy, you aren't planning on putting this on your food, are you?"

⟢ "It's seasoning! Come on, try it! It makes the food taste a thousand times better!"

⟢ "Seasoning? Isn't that expensive?"

⟢ "Hey, you give me the money for the food, you don't tell me what category of food it needs to be spent on. I'm sure your salary is more than enough to cover the cost."

⟢ He'd grumble about how he was saving it for more important things, like wedding attire and a new instrument that he wanted to learn, but he wouldn't actually mind. His salary was definitely generous.

⟢ One time, he caught you sitting in the sun in the woods, and he was about to approach you when he saw the most baffling thing. You had a cloth splayed on the grass, covered in a weird brown substance that you were dipping strawberries in!

⟢ "What the hell is that?"

⟢ "Melted chocolate! *nom nom nom, gulp!* It's delicious with strawberries, would you like to try?"

⟢ "I'm quite alright, thanks."

⟢ Okay, your food choices were pretty normal, but for sheltered Erik who only ate things in their original state with no added flavour enhancers, he was shocked.

⟢ He might eventually expand his food palate, but it would take plenty of convincing on your behalf. He was perfectly happy with his unbuttered bread, thank you.

⟢ He was exceedingly stubborn.

⟢ But he's a fool for you, really <3

NSFW SECTION

⟢ You'd either have to be the most seductive person to walk the earth before Erik agrees to do anything sexual with you, or you'd have to be married.

⟢ Considering his intense attraction to you, it wouldn't be hard for him to consider you the first option.

⟢ For the purpose of this head canon, let's assume either one is true and he says yes.

⟢ The moment the first article of clothing comes off of you, he's starstruck. He can't believe he didn't say yes sooner.

⟢ He's torn between being regretful that he waited that long and feeling euphoric that he's really about to worship your body to his hearts content.

⟢ He's incredibly touchy feely. Consider every part of your body groped and kissed at least five times.

⟢ Favourite position is definitely you riding him. He'd have a few hang ups on it at first, as missionary back then was the only sex position that the church approved of, and he felt guilty about making you do so much work.

⟢ But he'd learnt his lesson about denying you by then.

⟢ You always had the greatest ideas, if those strawberries dipped in chocolate were anything to go by.

⟢ His eyes were greedy, watching the way you'd lower and lift yourself up and down his aching length. The way your skin stretched over your muscles as you chased your climax, eyebrows furrowed and shoulders hunched as you rested the palms of your hands on his chest.

⟢ He didn't know whether he wanted to keep his eyes locked onto you, or where your bodies were connected down below.

⟢ Just the thought made him so worked up and flustered he'd break a sweat.

⟢ His hands fit so perfectly in the dips of your waist, encouraging your movements as you rutted your hips against his. You looked like a painting, your plush thighs pressed tightly into his sides as you worked yourself into bliss.

⟢ He'd run his hands over every part of you, being extra cautious of being gentle. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

⟢ He definitely finished early the first like. 20 times you did that position. He felt terrible, but you considered it an amazing confidence boost. All apologies would die on his tongue the minute you'd lay down and ask him to finish the job by other means instead.

⟢ And speaking of thighs - his head being crushed by your thighs as he went down on you? God yes. He was used to the feeling of something constantly covering his face, and your legs were a welcome addition.

⟢ He's definitely messy and obviously inexperienced, so his rhythm would be uncomfortable and all over the place to begin with. But he'd figure out what drives you crazy in no time.

⟢ He's very, very eager to please. He'd worship every inch of you at every opportunity he could.

⟢ And have you seen this man's hands? Yum.

⟢ If you ever surprised him by wearing something skimpy or risqué? I hope you didn't have any plans for the next few hours. He's definitely taking his time with his gift.

THIS MAN UGH HE'S SO 😭💗

[clovenhoofedjester]

jellicle lineups; part 4/4

I FINALLY FINISHED THESE

grizabella | 🌃 🥀 🍂

i really wanted to mix revival and older replica for this one. the thigh-high boots, sparkly, tasseled dress, and generally the wig are all revival inspired, but the curly fur stays and the makeup is old because i really do like the very dramatic, gothic grizabella looks. her coat is also heavily 2019 inspired with the length and stripey purple fabric

i also was not sure how i wanted to do her hair other than it covering one eye (SHOUTOUT TO THE FANART I SAW WHICH HAD THAT. I CANNOT REMEMBER THE URL) esp the color so i did a gradient of light grey to dark brown, which i REALLY liked ! it also helped me decide that shed be chocolate smoke instead of a tabby

idk. ijust like her

i very much want to emphasize the "proud" and "indomitable" of her character in my portrayal of her; think betty buckley. i think shed be 61 in human years.

jennyanydots | ⏰ 🧶 👠

HER DESIGN... is very similar to her replica one because.... i really like it. very heavy emphasis in how her makeup is sometimes done with the HUGE lower lashes and squiggles. she also gets a cute little pink nose and blue eyeshadow

very 2019 inspired also. the hat, tasseled jumpsuit and bejeweled tap shoes stay ...... but i did want to give her the vest and collar from 2019. i just like that. shes also fat because yes

she remains sweet and nice yes. but i think warsaw was onto something when they made her Like That. shed be 56 in human years

jellylorum | ��� 💐 👒

i ORIGINALLY drew her design a month and a half ago with the headcanon that shes gus' caretaker but bro. that jellylorum & asparagus jr. & gus family angst potential was too great. so i redid her as looking closer to gus. :3

idk why but i decided to go with a 1940s inspired formal look for her.... i quite like the hat and think it helps her to stand out, so i'm comfortable in that decision. her fur design is also mostly replica inspired. enjoy her neapolitan ice cream makeup too

she also gets a pink nose and her collar from the 2019 version. idk why the collars went so hard in that movie

i LOVE one of her 3 words being practical... yes, she is THE practical cat. i think shed be 59 in human years

bustopher jones | 🌹 🤍 🍛

VERY replica inspired.... with notes of other productions. opera populaire had full glasses bustopher which i liked. an older makeup look also had stripes which i also thought looked nice (and makes him look more related to mistoffelees) ! there are also multiple bustopher designs that have the moustache and beard 2 for 1 dealio..... and decided to incorporate that as well

he also gets the fishbone hanky crevat thing and a fishbone brooch. i almost made his rose white but i liked the contrast of the red. enough that i decided to give him lipstick too . and youd best believe that he has a giant fucking pipe that he smokes out of

i love the idea of him being the older generations' tugger in his time. i believe it. i think hed be like 55 in human years

skimbleshanks | 🚂 🎆 ⏳

I COULDNT RESIST BASING HIM OF THE MOVVIEEEEEE im not sorry that was peak skimble. the whistle and chains, the MATCHING conductor hat and pants, the moustache, the tap shoes..... truly, it was too good. my only regret was that i couldnt show the suspenders in this design because i wanted to keep the vest

i did keep the makeup/fur pattern very similar to his replica design though. idk. its just good. emphasis on the brown in his tail, the brown of his clothes, and the bell

anyone else get handsome gay silver fox vibes from him? anyway [being rushed out the door] i think hed be 56 in human years

asparagus jr. | 🧷 🎲 ⛲

lets go babey asparagus jr. inclusion ! i Really struggled with the clothes because i wanted to include the weird yarn poncho but didnt want to make him look hippyish (hippies are cool it just wasnt the vibe i was going for).... so it is reincarnated as this strange tassel-y scarf shawl thing. idk

he also gets a collar similar to jellylorum's because i like the idea of them living in the same house :^3. his makeup is also pretty different from how it appeared in the 98 version because i wasnt really feeling it. i like stripes. so stripes he shall get

hes also wearing a corset thing. idk what my propensity for designing men with a slightly feminine touch says about me (IM A FEMININE QUEER MAN)

not much notes on his personality other than i think he really looks up to his father (enough that he took on his more dignified name). hed be 57 in human years

gus | 📖 🌌 ����

MUH OLD MAN... i love him. very much based on a bunch of different replica designs for him. he gets a beard and sideburns because i think i really do love the costumes w facial hair, and i think it just fits. he also gets glasses

he gets the coat and handkerchief (now a scarf) that typically hides the growltiger costume... which has a crisp formal outfit underneath. maybe he takes the coat off during his number to signify having moments of clarity and humor during his song

i do think in my interpretation hes well enough to joke around during his number and play the rumpus cat but like. damn you can tell this cat is old. hed be like 93 in human years

old deuteronomy | 🌕 🍮 ⭐

i have fully abandoned replica deut. say hello to haute couture resplendent transgender old deuteronomy. fit with a gigantic white coat, velvet dress, and gigantic fluffy hat. and yes, she did have 99 wives

she also gets the pendant that she was drawn with in the concept art for the 2d animated movie.... what was up w/ that....

ANYWAY YEAH UH. shes very different from the replica deut and other nonrep deuts mostly thanks to judi dench, with her saying that her version of deut was a transgender woman, and her complaining about not looking regal enough in the movie. here you go girly. the nose freckles/dots from some replica makeup get to stay though

she gets a lot of design notes from her children. the grey from munkustrap, macavitys white eyelashes, eye and mouth makeup, and tuggers cheek heart. shes also a light grey to kind of reflect her appearance in 2019

not much to add here other than i love her. i think she would be 88 in human years

AND THERE YOU GO. AHHHHHHH ITS DONE

[darkbackalley]

No Words Left Unspoken - The Phantom of the Opera x Male Reader

Warnings: None, other than absolute tooth-rotting fluff and a TEENSY-WEENSY bit of projecting lol

FEM-ALIGNED BLOGS DNI

Note: OMG I ACTUALLY POSTED? I’m low key so sorry to everyone that I’ve been gone for so long, PLZ FORGIVE ME! I’ve been going through an INSANE Phantom of The Opera phase recently, and this idea has just been floating around in my brain, so I figured that I’d write it. I also wanted to write the dialogue in French and finally use my skills, but I realized that there’s way too much talking for that :( also this thing is SO LONG

FIC UNDER THE CUT

The Opéra Populaire had never seen anything like it before. A Kabuki troupe had arrived from Japan, bringing with them a style of performance so foreign, so alluring, that it transfixed everyone who witnessed it. Among them was Y/n, a star working with the company to achieve fame, and an onnagata—a male actor who specialized in female roles. His grace and beauty were unparalleled, his every movement capturing the very essence of womanhood. His long, flowing robes and painted face transformed him into a vision of ethereal femininity and often rivalled that of the women in the production team. One thing that y/n often struggled with, however, was many thinking that he is just a beautiful woman playing these roles, and as an actor, he was feminized into this twisted version of himself that wasn’t a true representation of him.

The Phantom of the Opera has always watched from the shadows. and here he was, watching yet again. But something was different this time. This new form of theatre was not unwelcome here, as the Opéra Populaire has always been a home of the arts, no matter which kind, and he had been entranced by the performers before, but Y/n was different. The Phantom had always believed that true beauty lay in tragedy, in the forbidden and impossible love he had harbored for Christine Daaé, But Y/n’s presence had stirred something new within him, a deep and unexpected longing. Slowly closing the hole Christine had left behind.

Night after night during the rehearsals, The Phantom watched as Y/n glided across the stage, his delicate hands moving with precision, his voice lilting in melodies foreign yet intoxicating. The Phantom could not take his eyes off of him. From the moment Y/n entered the opera house, Erik had been captivated, convinced that the performer was a woman of unmatched beauty and grace. His heart, once so hardened by rejection and isolation, softened at the sight of her— though Erik did not yet know the truth.

He left notes in Y/n’s dressing room, signed only with a flourish of a rose. He composed hauntingly beautiful pieces on his organ, each one inspired by the way Y/n moved, the way his voice danced in the air. Gone was his melancholy opera pieces, replaced by works that were softy and harboured unseen adornment towards his muse. The Phantom’s obsession grew, as it always did, until he could no longer bear to remain unseen.

On opening night, after the performance, The Phantom made his move. He waited in the fly tower, his heart racing as Y/n finished his final bow and made his way backstage. The theater was emptying of both patrons and performers, but Y/n stayed behind, unwinding from the night’s work, his silken robes draped around him. The Phantom, cloaked in darkness, stepped forward.

“You are a vision,” his voice echoed through the room, low and melodic, sending a shiver down Y/n’s spine. “An angel who has graced my stage and my theatre.” Y/n turned slowly, his eyes searching the shadows. “And you are you?” he asked, his voice gentle but curious, his accent wrapping around the French words in a way that made them sound even more delicate.

“I am the one who watches from the dark,” Erik replied, stepping into the dim light, his mask catching the glow. “I have admired you from afar, but I can no longer keep my distance.”

Y/n froze for a moment, thrown off, before his lips curved into a soft smile, his painted face serene. “You are the Phantom, are you not? The one the others speak of.”The Phantom nodded, his breath catching as he looked into the other’s eyes—so soft, so full of mystery. He had imagined this moment, this meeting, countless times. He could not resist the pull any longer. “I have seen many singers, many dancers, but none as captivating as you.”

Y/n tilted his head, curious. “Why do you find me so captivating?”

The Phantom stepped closer, his voice a whisper. “Because you are a woman of great beauty, of talent unmatched.”

Y/n’s smile faltered slightly, his eyes flickering with something The Phantom couldn’t quite read. He had encountered this before—audiences who fell in love with the woman they believed him to be, only to realize the truth later. But something in the Phantom’s intensity made Y/n hesitate.

“I am not what you think I am,” Y/n said softly, his voice gentle but firm.

The Phantom frowned. “What do you mean?”

Y/n hesitated, then gracefully reached up and began to remove his ornate wig, revealing his hair underneath. “I am not a woman,” he said quietly, turning away from the Phantom. “I am an actor. An onnagata. I play the role of women, but I am a man.”

For a long moment, The Phantom said nothing. He stared, his mind reeling with the revelation. Y/n’s delicate features, his graceful movements—how could this be true? But as the silence stretched on, the Phantom realized something that surprised even him.

It didn’t matter.

He stepped closer, his mask hiding the emotions that swirled within him. “You say you are not a woman,” he said slowly, “but that does not change what I see. You are an artist, a performer, and I am drawn to you—not because of the mask you wear, but because of the soul behind it.”

Y/n looked at him, his dark eyes wide with surprise. “You do not care that I am a man?”

The Phantom shook his head, his voice softer now. “No. I care that you are you. You are more than your role, more than the costume or the mask. I see beauty in your art, in your spirit. I have lived my life behind a mask, hiding from the world. I know what it means to be unseen for who you truly are.”

Y/n’s breath caught in his throat. He had never met someone like him, someone who saw beyond the surface, beyond the illusion. Slowly, he took a step closer to the Phantom, his eyes searching the latter’s for the truth.

“Then perhaps,” Y/n whispered, “we are not so different after all.”The Phantom’s heart pounded in his chest as he reached out, gently taking Y/n’s hand. “No, we are not.”

In that moment, there was no need for masks or performances. The Phantom, who had always believed himself incapable of love, found solace in the presence of the one person who understood his isolation, his need to hide. Y/n, who had spent his life transforming into someone else on stage, found comfort in being seen for who he truly was. They stood there, together, in the dim light of the opera house, their connection as real as the roles they had once played. And for the first time, both the Phantom and the Kabuki actor knew what it meant to be truly seen.

[sunshine-for-serotonin]

Forever and Always, You.

Happy Valentine’s Day!!!!! I’m in the mood for Erik cuddles, anyone care to join me?

Before reading please note: non sexual nudity, Erik calls reader mommy, non sexual breast sucking, just the smallest bit of angst, Leroux!Erik(full facial deformity, no nose, talks in third person sometimes)

You weren’t really sure what had gotten Erik so worked up, what had driven him to act so irrationally as you conversed with the theatre crew and management of the opera populair, what had driven him to attempt to kill Christine as she ran her hands over your form to straighten up your uniform and gently brush away a few hairs from your face.

The silence that had fallen over you all after the sandbag had plummeted to the ground was deafening, and with the gaze of shock and fear Christine had fixed upon you, you realized the sandbag had fallen a mere two inches from her figure. Looking up into the rafters, you saw Erik glaring at Christine with the fury of a thousand suns, and you knew that he truly had meant to kill without remorse. Turning his piercing gaze towards you, you could see the lines around Erik’s eyes soften, his gaze so tender you struggled to believe that this was the same Erik that had just tried to murder your friend, the girl who had once held his affections. …You would wait too talk with him until after rehearsal.

Approximately three hours later, after suffering through Erik’s loving stare relentlessly fixated upon you, you found said man waiting for you in the shadows of your room. Practically tripping over his own two feet to reach you, Erik only halted his approach when you held up your hand and sent a frustrated look his way.

“What do you think you’re doing, Erik?”

“I…I was hoping we could embrace each other, and- and rest for a spell.”

You could tell Erik knew you were upset with him. It was obvious in the way his skeletal frame shook, and in the way his voice stuttered and wavered. Erik clutched his fingers close to his chest and curled in on himself slightly, fighting the urge to embrace you and relax into your form, the urge to ask you for reassurance when he knew what he pulled earlier had upset you deeply.

Seeing as though Erik was on the verge of tears, you allowed some of the warmth to seep back into your voice.

“Come lay down with me, Erik.”

As you made your way to lay down on your bed, you removed your layers of clothing until you were completely bare. You could hear Erik copying your actions, and occasionally tearfully sniffling, before scrambling after you. Once you made it to your bed, you peeled back the covers and laid propped up on pillows.

“Come here, baby.”

As soon as Erik got on top of you, the dam broke. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck, Erik held you like a child would a beloved teddy bear, his tears soaking into your warm skin as he trembled and shuddered with ragged breaths.

“Erik’s so sorry, mommy! Please, forgive your poor beast! Please don’t stop loving Erik! Erik’s so sorry, so sorry!”

“Shhhh, shhh, it’s okay babydoll, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. Im here with you, when you’re ready to talk, we’ll talk, okay?”

Your words only made Erik sob harder, and at this point he was trembling so much he was moving you with him. Slowly, you began to trace along Erik’s spine with one hand while the other carded through his hair. No longer was Erik simply sobbing, but he was full on wailing into your figure, tightening his arms around you further and shoving his cold mask deeper into the crook of your neck. Moving your hands to try and push back Erik’s figure to get him to look you in the eyes, you were met with resistance as he gripped you like a vice and more pitiful tears fell into your hair.

“Non, non, non! Please! Erik’s so sorry, maman! Don’t leave!”

“I’m not going anywhere, Erik, I just wanted to see you. Can you do that for me?”

Shuffling his form against you slightly, Erik moved his face until he was peering up at you from your chest, his yellow eyes puffy with tears from behind his mask.

“May I take this off, darling?”

Stiffly nodding, Erik closed his eyes. It was a habit of his, always dreading that he may see a look of fear or disgust reflected in your eyes, but he reminded himself that you had never once given any truth to his fears. Gently, your fingers curved around the edges of Erik’s mask before lifting it from his visage.

“There you are, pretty baby. You’re being such a good boy for me.”

At your words, Erik let out soft whimpers before opening his eyes once more, tears still cascading down his sunken cheeks. Pressing kisses to his forehead, to in between his eyebrows, down to his nasal bone, and finally to his lips, you could practically taste his desperation for your love and approval. Erik let out dissatisfied whines as you pulled away, only to relax into you once again as you cupped his cool face with your warm hands.

“M-more kisses, please, maman! I need more! Please, maman!!”

Smiling softly at Erik, you gave him two more kisses, one on his crooked lips and one on his forehead, before speaking.

“Are you ready to talk about earlier now?”

Shamefully, Erik averted his eyes from yours, but still nodded his head. Shifting himself once more, Erik pressed his ear to your chest and took deep breaths, the sound of your heartbeat combined with your scent soothing him and easing him into sharing his emotions with you.

“Why did you try to hurt Christine, Erik?”

“…she was too close to you.”

“Oh?”

Nodding his head, Erik struggled to find the right words to express all his pent up emotions, the gentle feeling of your fingers running through his hair helping to keep him grounded.

“I had feared that she may try to take you from me, or that you may find my company unappealing in comparison, a-and I thought-”

With a small sigh, you realized Erik was beginning to sob once more, his sentence punctuated by hiccups and sniffles as his nasal cavity leaked uselessly. You pressed a few kisses to his head to soothe him as you prepared to speak.

“Shhhhhh, you’re getting yourself all worked up over nothing, babydoll. Have I ever given you a reason to think I was going to leave? Hm?”

“N-non…”

“So why are those silly thoughts going in your head, sugar?”

“Because Erik doesn’t deserve you! Because you’re too good for Erik, but Erik craves you and your love so terribly! So terribly that he would kill another just to keep you!”

The salty tears multiplied as Erik bawled into you, the scorching thoughts he had tried to ignore bursting to the surface. The fingers that he gripped your back with were beginning to dig into your skin, causing mild discomfort, but you paid it no mind and focused your attention on calming your darling.

“Oh honey, let it all out. Sh, shh, shhh, good boy. You’re being so, so good for me.”

Your words seemed to have the intended effect, and slowly Erik resumed his steady breathing and his heartbeat stopped racing so erratically.

“Erik, baby, listen to me carefully, ok? You are enough for me. You always have been, and you always will be. You don’t have to try and ‘earn’ or ‘deserve’ my love, you have it already, you silly man-” Pausing, you made him look at you as you cradled his face in your hands. “-I love you, Erik, and nothing will ever change that. Forever and always, I will choose you.”

“(Y/N)-” his voice quivered with emotion “-je t’aime! Thank you for staying with me, I love you, I love you, Erik loves you so much!”

Eriks lips moved forwards and captured your own, softly moaning with contentment. Again and again, Erik surged forth and kissed you until he was breathless, and you couldn’t suppress a giggle at the lovestruck and dazed expression on his blushing face.

“Did you still want to nap, Erik?”

“Oui, if it’s alright with you and-,” if possible, Erik turned even redder. “-may-may I put my mouth on your chest? Please, maman?”

“Of course, babydoll.”

Immediately, Erik gave you another kiss before moving his mouth down towards your chest and taking your nipple in between his thin lips. As you rested one of your hands on his back, the other cupped his marred face while your thumb stroked his prominent cheekbone, and you could feel Erik practically become liquid in your hold as any remaining tightness drained from his body. Setting a slow pace, Erik began to gently suck on your chest as he felt his eyes go half lidded, being worn out from his emotional outburst. Just before sleep overtook him, Erik could hear you whisper faintly.

“Forever and always, I’ll choose you, babydoll.”

———————————————————————————

@sloppyzengarden

[azaleapaperpad]

Red Curtains and Chandeliers

Phantom of The Opera (Broadway version)(Merik) x GN! Reader (Part 1) WC: 1124

You are a ballerina for the Opera Populaire, and you've fallen for the Phantom. You thought you two were getting close until Christine Daae came into the picture.

You had known of The Phantom for some time now. But of course, with how meticulous he is, he had made sure you didn’t meet him until he deemed it necessary. Ever since you were young, you had wondered about the supposed “Opera Ghost” that, theoretically, haunted the opera house you had been dancing for. 

One day after practice, your roommate had gone with some of the other dancers. It was just you in your dorm, when you noticed a note neatly placed on your pillow. Upon opening it, you read praises of your gracefulness from an “O.G.” He was real! And he had complimented your dancing! 

That was a few years ago, and since you had met him properly. You even helped him visualize some choreography for his operas, and he helped you with the moves you struggled with. Admittedly, you had grown quite close, up until she took to the stage. A natural talent, Christine Daae had taken to the stage and swept everyone away, including you! You couldn’t deny her talent, but it didn’t make you any less jealous. 

When The Phantom had first started pursuing her, you felt an inner turmoil, but what were you to do? You couldn't just leave him, especially since you were his only friend. At least, that’s what you assumed.

On a particular evening, he even asked you if you thought he could be a good teacher. "Mon cher, do you think I'm a good teacher?" He had such hope in his eyes. One of the only ways you could read his face... and you knew he was talented and one of the most intellectual people you had ever known. You had to encourage him, because you knew it could only be good for him. 

But as the months progressed, it was harder to watch. You decided while you could get ahead, you would distance yourself, so as not to bug The Phantom when she was staying with him. The first aggression was when she took off his mask.

You had thought she would have left by the morning, but when you saw the masked man at work, you couldn’t help but stare a moment at the man you were infatuated with. The way his fingers danced across the keys, even when a melody didn't work out, it still made your heart melt watching him. Unfortunately, it was almost too late when you realized that disrespectful- you forced yourself to turn away when her hand had reached out towards his mask. You respected his desire to keep the mask on, and you asked only once about it. He told you never to remove it, and not to ask about it again.

It wasn’t until you heard his scream that your heart felt like it stopped. Your vision went black for a moment, you couldn't hear anything, and you couldn't feel yourself breathing. When you came to a few seconds later, everything started again, and you could hardly bear to hear about such awful things he said about himself. You left for your dorm, heartache setting itself within you. 

The second time something happened, you knew it was a mistake. As did Madame Giry. For the Managers- bumbling fools you thought- to replace Christine with Carlotta, against his very wishes. And then to find out later that they had not left Box 5 open? You almost chuckled out loud at their collective mob mentality to be wrapped around the Prima Donna’s fingers. Even on stage, you could feel his presence, and you knew something was off. Anxiety crept and settled itself into your bones.

After they announced the switch for Carlotta and Christine, you knew he was furious. He had changed Carlotta's voice after she blatantly disrespected him. Monsieur Andre had just announced your number to distract the crowd, so you started dancing on stage.

Of course you heard it first. The ropes in the rafters, his sinister laughs. He was up to something, and it wasn't good. Suddenly, a body dropped in the center of the stage. You recognized it as Bouquet's and screamed. You were among a few, and you felt dancers, singers, stage hands, and musicians all alike running past you, around you almost in a flurry to get out of there. You decided to do the same, and you ran to the roof. 'No one goes to the roof.' You thought.

You finally got up, gasping for air as if the opera house itself was filled with some sort of poisonous gas. Once you had settled, you realized you heard voices. Others were singing. Finally, you processed it as Christine and the Vicount, singing. You felt a slight relief, hoping this would mean that The Phantom would move on. You got up to investigate, and accidentally stumbled onto him... The Phantom.

He was standing in front of an angel's statue, one you had recognized from past years. You ducked so he wouldn't see you, but before your head went under the nearest surface, you caught a glimpse of Christine and her lover, sharing a sweet kiss. You sunk into place quietly, until you heard The Phantom, singing softly back.

“No… no…” You heard him sob softly.

“You Will Curse The Day you did not do… All of what the Phantom Asks of You”

You were about to walk towards him, wanting to comfort him. Before you could start, you heard him shuffle around, and by the time you looked up again he had vanished. You took that as your sign to leave. With a heavy heart, you made your way back to the Opera Populaire, seeing Christine getting ready to finish the show, you hurried to the dressing rooms to change for the next ballet. 

With a deep breath, you walked out on stage with everyone else after Il Muto had finished. You all bowed to the crowd, and when you had raised your heads again, you heard Meg Giry scream.

“It’s the chandelier! It’s coming down!” 

You looked up, indeed seeing the chandelier, in all it’s glory, coming down. Right into the crowd. 

Despite the fact the chandelier was going to the crowd, you ran off stage with the rest of the cast. You didn’t know where you were running to, you just ran. Before you knew it, you were in your dorm. Without skipping a beat, you acted on the first thought that came to mind.

You needed to get the hell out of there. 

So you packed your bags, and left without a word to anyone. You decided then and there you needed a break. At least a few months to get your head straight. You would write to the managers as soon as you got back home.

[squaric-acid]

Rewatching PotO (2004) in 2024

~ A needless commentary. Please note that I first watched this movie seven years ago, in 2017. ~

I like the Wizard of Oz thing they do by having the prologue scene in black and white.

Is the Madam Giry in the prologue supposed to be Meg or her mother, it is unclear.

The costumes are decidedly not bad for a piece of historical fiction made in the early 2000’s.

I adore the chaos and attention to detail of the establishing shots of the Opera Populaire during a rehearsal.

All the costumes in this movie are good except for Christine’s during Point of No Return, like what the fuck was that.

I like that Raoul is introduced in person during the rehearsal scene and that Christine gives us some background on their relationship. Her saying they were childhood sweethearts makes the set up of their love story stronger, like they both obviously still harbored feelings for each other during the interim of their childhood and the events of PotO. In the stage production this is less obvious.

Was it really necessary to have the new managers make lecherous comments about Meg and Christine?

Emmy Rossum is very stiff during Think of Me, in contrast to the scene of her dancing just prior where she is very expressive. I’m not sure what to make of this, it’s only an observation. I want her earrings from this scene though.

The Phantom’s lack of a hat makes his head look small and Gerard Butler does not have a small head.

You can tell that the theatre they are in isn’t actually very big.

The dubbing does not sync well to the mouths of the actors.

Meg Giry is adorable.

Christine’s dress during Think of Me looks suspiciously like a wedding dress.

How can you not ship Christine and Raoul in this movie? They’re so cute together.

Not the slow-mo of the candles blowing out.

The arms holding the candelabra are weird, like icky weird, and remind me of the Haunted Mansion.

I do have to admit that Gerard Butler in that cape is really something, he does look good as the Phantom, even without the hat during Phantom of the Opera. I appreciate the electric guitar during that scene too.

It’s not subtle that they used the same archway more than once. And what happens to the horse, where did he go?

Erik’s lair really gives Pirates of the Caribbean ride vibes.

Was the dramatic cape removal necessary?

Why does he just leave her sitting in the boat?

RAMIN KARIMLOO WAS GUSTAVE DAAÉ?!?!!!! And I was supposed to find about this on my own?!?!

Gerard Butler as the Phantom is peak early 2000’s pathetic sad boy.

The dubbing continues to be bad which really impedes the impact of Music of the Night. The blocking isn’t bad though so I’ll focus on that.

Bro, not the mannequin! And the way he sets her in the swan? Hilariously creepy.

The scene of Meg discovering the passage behind the mirror is so interesting to me. What a great piece of character exploration! I wonder how much this version of Meg knows about the Phantom and inner workings of the opera house, surely she isn’t blind to her mother’s association with the Opera Ghost.

Madam Giry demonstrating the use of lasso was a girl boss moment.

How on earth did he not feel Christine prying at the mask?

I wish they would’ve used more drastic makeup and prosthesis for the Phantom’s deformity. Or at least let the camera focus on it for a tiny bit longer. We get basically nothing of it in this scene.

I forgot that they cut back to the black and white of the prologue (a continuation of it).

Just how much is 20,000 francs in 1870 worth today?

Those skull wax seals are cool.

Was the mooning of Carlotta necessary? Funny though

Minnie Driver is hilarious. The Prima Donna scene is fantastic.

Erik doing dastardly deeds in his fancy clothes is iconique.

Where is the musical cue for “Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?”?! It sounds like an announcement at a train station!

Where on earth was Buquet to have seen the Phantom standing near the chandelier?

Only in the movies does cutting back and forth between the ballet from act three and the Phantom chasing Buquet around the flies really work. It makes the scene much more tense but is also amusing because we seen the Phantom doing stunts in his fancy clothes.

They really wanted to make this into a movie musical but did a poor job of integrating the music into the action of the movie.

I love the set design in this movie if nothing else.

If anything Gerard Butler’s Phantom has the least awful face of any rendition of the Phantom.

I can’t imagine this movie being made today, it would be an auto tune nightmare.

What is it about well-dressed pathetic sad boys of the early 2000’s variety?

You can’t fault Gerard Butler’s acting when he cries into the rose.

I take it back, why was the dramatic run so popular? It looks ridiculous.

I love Christine’s dress for the Masquerade scene. And Raoul looks dashing too.

The silver and gold fan choreography is neat. I also especially appreciate that only Christine and the Phantom are wearing shades of red.

Where are the fics of the Phantom and Madam Giry as children? That’s the story I want to hear.

Raoul sleeping, obviously on guard, outside the ballet dormitories is so endearing.

Showing that the Phantom knocks out the guard and is the one to take Christine to the graveyard closes the plot hole about how he knew she would go there. And it demonstrated just how obsessive he is about her.

I don’t know a lot about how funerary monuments worked in the 1800’s but how could the Daaé’s afford such a mausoleum?

The reprise of Angel of Music was very good. Excellent use of lighting.

The Phantom jumping down from the roof of the mausoleum is rather ruined by the fact his cape flipped over his head and he had to put it right.

The fight scene wasn’t the most coherent but it wasn’t outrageous either. I like the skull shaped guard on the Phantom’s sword.

Erik saying “let it be war upon you both” is undercut by the fact he didn’t say that it would be war between him and the managers earlier.

They cut back to Raoul coming up with his plan to ensnare the Phantom after the scene in the cemetery. I think it’s narratively out of place given the events of the scene of the graveyard. Christine’s lament, Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again, which both about her missing her father and about gathering the courage to bid goodbye to her angel of music. Which Christine felt she had to do because of the plan Raoul came up with.

Christine’s protestations about Raoul’s plan being spoken rather than sung works well in my opinion. But there’s a certain angst to how hysterical Christine sounds in the stage production.

Seriously, the Don Juan costume for Christine sucks.

The reveal in the stage production was better. They mention the hood of cloak in the song, the hood hides the fact that it’s so obviously not Piangi, anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see it wasn’t the same guy.

The background dancers, lol.

All the shots cutting to Madam Giry lowkey make it seem like she was secretly in love with the Phantom.

They could’ve made Point of No Return more tense.

Why does the Phantom’s wig look so bad before Christine pulls off his mask?

Now his disfigurement actually looks appropriate.

Madam Giry literally brought him to the opera house and he went willingly, the Phantom calling it a prison isn’t super accurate.

Erik has too much hair in this version. But props to Gerard Butler for killing it in the final scene in the Phantom’s Lair.

I like the detail that the cut on Raoul’s arm starts bleeding again due to all the action. It looks weirdly real though so maybe it was unintentional. I have not seen any behind the scenes footage to confirm this.

Why is Meg at the forefront of the mob? Why was she so interested in the mask? Is it supposed to be a hint about Love Never Dies? There is too much focus on Meg and Madam Giry’s involvement with the Phantom to just be as it is explained.

I adore the implication of the rose at Christine’s grave. Perhaps the most emotionally impactful moment in the whole movie.

7/10

Love the costumes and the aesthetics. The final scene at Christine’s grave was a very nice extra bit. Not as good as the stage production but enjoyable. The acting seemed a bit stiff and underwhelming but lots of movies from the early 2000’s were. I prefer the 25th anniversary performance but who doesn’t?

I can’t speak to how it compares to the book because I haven’t read it (I will sometime)

[memoirsofamanager]

"....the two men who now own the Opera Populaire,

Monsieur Richard Firmin and Monsieur Gilles André!"

The Phantom of the RP blog, non-selective, mostly Lloyd-Webber canon – references and nods to Leroux canon included.

Depiction of MM. André and Firmin are Bradley Dean and Craig Bennett respectively.

Not quite family-friendly. Other RP blogs encouraged to interact.

Tags!:

#the question box – asks

#post script content – reblogs and blog interactions

#a manager's journal – random posts

#how can I help you? – dedicated André tag

#what do YOU want?? – dedicated Firmin tag

note: most posts have been retroactively updated with the new tags, but some of them haven't – for example, some Firmin posts may still be under "a secondary party".

Other blogs of mine: @thisloathsomegargoyle, @godstiredestmusicmajor, and @anangrytrombonist

[master-of-the-opera-house]

27-29!

27. What’s your favourite historical “What if…” scenario?

Technically every 20th century and their mum have already posed "what if Franz Ferdinand lived" but here's the deal. I'm specifically more interested in "what if Franz Ferdinand lived BUT Sophie didn't". Sure Franzi was an advocate against starting a war in the Balkans, but would anything have changed if his wife was killed and he was left behind? He loved her fiercely and had a temper to match, would he have rashly avenged her in his grief? Would Franz Joseph support or even allow it - he was ready for conflict and he did send the ultimatum against Franzi's own death, but he hated the man personally as long as he lived and starting a war over a royal nonperson would've probably been seen as pretty stupid. So would Franzi have just simmered, unable to do anything with the loss? He would ascend in 1916 - would there have been another trigger between Sophie's assassination and that to start the war anyway? What would he have done about that in his state?

28. Do you have a favourite “dream team” of historical figures living at the same time in a specific era of history?

Yeah speaking of Franzi I want to see him and Ludwig hang out and also build and design a castle together. It'd be a HGTV nightmare. They really did miss each other by a few years what a shame lmao. Did Sisi see her cousin in how her nephew hadn't found love in the longest time? Did FJ think of Ludwig when he visited the kitsch hellhole that was Konopiste? They'd be an unstoppable autistic St George fanboy DIY duo and I seethe to think we only just missed it by a bit.

29. Are there any great historical mysteries that you are interested in?

Speaking of Ludwig....

Julia how dare you get me spinning this in my head like a bowl of soup in a microwave again. Julia that bowl is made of metal and I'm gonna explode -

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

"When the Longing Returns"

Phantom of the Opera (2004) Fanfiction Masterpost

Chapter 1

Pairing: Erik (The Phantom) x Christine Daaé

Themes: Sexual awakening, hurt/comfort

Rating: M

Chapter Summary: Christine visits her father's grave and the Phantom appears; but Raoul does not arrive to interrupt their reunion, and Christine makes a choice.

Chapter Word Count: 3,895

Author's Notes

~~~~~

Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: The Phantom returns Christine to the Opera Populaire, where she must conceal her new attachment to him from Raoul.

Chapter Word Count: 5,690

Author's Notes

~~~~~

Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: Christine contemplates her decision and continues her deception of Raoul while the rest of the Opera Populaire discusses the scandalous connection between Christine Daaé and the Opera Ghost.

Chapter Word Count: 7,178

Author's Notes

~~~~~

Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: The Opera Populaire prepares for their production of Faust, and Christine reunites with the Phantom in the opera house tunnels for the resumption of her lessons.

Chapter Word Count: 8,891

Author's Notes

~~~~~

Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Christine has her first music lesson with Erik in the lair.

Chapter Word Count: 10,328

Author's Notes

~~~~~

Chapter 6

Chapter Summary: Following their first lesson, Erik and Christine make their way back to the opera house, but the journey does not go as expected.

Themes: Grief, Jealousy, Fear, Anger, Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness

Chapter Word Count: 6,061

Author's Notes

~~~~~

Chapter 7

Chapter Summary: In the tunnels, Erik confesses his violent past to Christine.

Themes: Childhood trauma, guilt, confession, regret, hurt/comfort

Chapter Word Count: 8,732

Author's Notes

[the-gory-gazette]

Operetta Thrills MH with New Tune

March 05, 2012

Monster High's very own spooky songstress Operetta is about to drop a gripping new single and the student bodies are nearly bursting with excitement. Gory Gazette staffers could not have been more thrilled when they heard a scary-cool sneak listen was in store. Produced by her infamous father, The Phantom of the Opera, on his independent label, Music of the Night, the song promises to be a smash hit.

Laced with ghostly dramatic tones and Operetta's pitch perfect voice, staffers were spell bound by her haunting lyrics and insanely awesome treble. It guarantees to drive ghouls and monsters crazy, in a good way.

Operetta paired her perfectionist diva style with BFF Holt Hyde's flame-tastic mixing skills to create a uniquely monsterific sound. Operetta notes her phantom father as a source of support. "He's the famous opera ghost of Opera Populaire in France," she said. "He's got enough industry advice to fill a haunted theatre!"

Stay tuned (wink wink) for Operetta's rocking haunted album release concert coming soon to the halls of Monster High!

[polikszena]

Ficlet Advent Calendar - December 10

Title: Christmas spirit Fandom: The Phantom of the Opera Characters: Giles André, Richard Firmin, Reyer, Carlotta Guidicelli, The Phantom (Erik) Relationships: André/Firmin Word Count: 1069 Rating: Teen and up audiences Summary: As Christmas is getting nearer, The Phantom of the Opera decides to add his own touch to the festive decoration of the Garnier Palace. Notes: A little bit of festive crack straight out of the Paris Opera House.

December 10 - Christmas spirit

Dear Directors,

As Christmas is getting near, I have decided to collaborate in the decoration of the theatre to spread out a little Christmas cheer in the Opera Populaire. Keep them intact and nobody gets hurt. You do not want to see any alterations on the Nativity set in the hall, or do you? And, as usual, leave Box 5 empty for me.

I shall remain your obedient servant,

O.G.

Monsieur Giles André swallowed thickly as he put the letter down. What on earth did the Phantom add to the otherwise tasteful decoration inside the building? His imagination began to run wild and he envisioned cut-off body parts hanging from the pine branches and red tinsels. And how dare he threaten them again? And what did he want to do with the Nativity set? Rumours had it that a few years ago someone stole Baby Jesus and replaced him with a cabbage.

“What is this supposed to mean?” he burst out.

“Don’t worry, André, I checked it,” Monsieur Richard Firmin assured him. “I thought it was going to be something outrageous, but it’s actually some mistletoes only.”

“Mistletoes?” André raised a brow. “Why?”

“No idea,” Firmin shrugged his shoulders. “It’s still better than body parts. Or cabbages.”

“I’m not complaining, I just don’t understand. Mistletoes are not that beautiful. I think he put them up for a purpose other than decoration.”

“Perhaps he was just touched by the Christmas Spirit,” Firmin mused. “He’s human after all.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Maybe he is a Christmas Spirit himself,” the other director continued. “The Ghost of Christmas That Never Comes.”

“This is not a joke,” André warned him.

“I know. But I think mistletoes are pretty harmless.”

“Well, a few kisses cannot hurt, can they?” André said after thinking about it a little.

At that moment the door opened and Monsieur Reyer stormed into the directors’ office, followed by an enraged Carlotta Guidicelli.

“This has to stop!” the man said.

“Good morning to you, too, Monsieur Reyer,” Firmin greeted him.

“What is it that has to stop?” André wondered.

“Someone hung a mistletoe above my piano, and we cannot start rehearsing because the girls keep kissing me!” he told them, with his moustache trembling with anger under his nose. “On my cheek, of course, but still, it stops us from working!”

“You can go to the other rehearsal room,” Firmin suggested. “Nobody is using that right now.”

“Or we can take the mistletoe down,” Reyer said.

“To have a cabbage instead of Baby Jesus? Thank you, but no.”

“The mistletoes are presents of the Phantom,” André explained.

“Of course,” Carlotta snorted. “Should have known.”

“And what about you?” Firmin asked. “Does the mistletoe stop you from rehearsing a well?”

“No, and that’s the problem! Nobody wants to kiss me!”

Firmin had to press his lips together to suppress his laughter. He could understand the others not wanting to kiss their primadonna – he wouldn’t want to kiss her either, and no mistletoe could make him change his mind.

“Well, according to his letter, there are several mistletoes in the building,” André said, showing her the Phantom’s letter.

“You might get lucky under another one,” Firmin added, and now André had to struggle with laughter. “Just keep on trying.”

“The rules are whoever is standing under the mistletoe can be kissed and not has to be,” Reyer pointed out.

“But what’s the point of mistletoes if nobody wants to kiss me?” Carlotta continued.

“Perhaps they are intimidated by you, Signora,” Reyer said.

“We suggest talking to Signor Piangi about the case,” André said.

“Unless Monsieur Reyer volunteers,” Firmin added.

“My apologies, but I’d rather not,” he shook his head. “I don’t think I’m worthy.”

Nice save, Firmin thought to himself.

“Indeed, you’re not,” Carlotta said then she left the office with a huff and her head held high.

“We’ll continue in the other room, then,” Reyer said and he left as well.

“Harmless, huh?” André asked once they were alone again.

Truth to be told, The Phantom didn’t place the mistletoes just for the Opera Populaire’s delight: he put them up because he wanted to kiss somebody. Christine Daaé, the young and talented soprano. However, he wasn’t lucky. Christine either managed to avoid standing under the mistletoes, or she was always with company. The young ballerinas and the chorus girls soon realised that moving in groups could prevent the men asking them for kisses, even if they were underneath a mistletoe, so Christine was always walking around with Meg Giry or with some other girls from the choir. The Phantom didn’t give up; he continued hanging mistletoes in other places inside the building as well: such as above the door leading to the stage, or some more on the corridors (including one near the directors’ office), and he kept his eyes open.

The cast and the crew got used to the mistletoes within a few days; some of them even forgot that they were there. The Nativity set in the hall remained intact as well: no-one touched Baby Jesus or any other figurine either. One Day, when Monsieur Firmin came to work, he stopped in the corridor to take of his thick, leather gloves, when Monsieur André stepped out of the office.

“Good morning, Giles, how are you?” Firmin greeted him with a smile.

André opened his mouth to reply, but he noticed the mistletoe hanging down from the ceiling, right above his co-director’s head.

“What is it?” Firmin asked, seeing his eyes going wide.

André pointed upwards, and when Firmin saw the mistletoe, he just shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t mind if you don’t either,” he said. He’d rather kissed André than Carlotta.

“Alright then,” the other man said.

The Phantom, who was hiding in the walls, watching the situation unfold, couldn’t believe his eyes: he had just witnessed the two directors kiss each other.

“Wow,” André mumbled when their lips parted.

“This was much better than I thought it would be,” Firmin admitted.

“Definitely,” André agreed. “Do you think we can run into each other under a different mistletoe?”

“I hope so. Just don’t tell my wife.”

“And to mine.”

They both laughed then Firmin went into the office and André headed to the rehearsal room. Hiding in the walls, the Phantom of the Opera had to admit that for this kiss only it was worth putting up those mistletoes.

Read it on AO3

[clovenhoofedjester]

jellicle lineups; part 3/4

LETS GO PEOPLE!! LETS GO !! sorry for taking so long to get around to this one !

demeter | 🔒 🍰 🌇

DEETER

ive seen a lot of complaints about demeters design being toned down over the years so i decided to bring some of the bolder design choices back for mine. mullet demeter is REAL now ! honestly i couldve done more w/ their makeup but shhh its ok....

i tried to push the gold in their design by making the eyeshadow really obvious and giving them gold lips. enjoy their lacy dress too... i tried to design something which they could dance comfortably in

demeters newer 3 words (nervous, sensual, secretive) mean everything to me. love them so much. i think theyd be 29 in human years

bombalurina | 🌹 🍓 🛼

so i totally based her hair on that concept art for drag queen bomba. the bob is too cute ! i had a blast doing her design for the most part. i struggled w that makeup and the color of her dress but its ok.

i also tried to give her something she could dance in—just like. imagine the length of the dress a little shorter. im not going back and fixing it

i based her color palette/patterns directly on her concept art because tbh, i dont love blond/ginger bomba ! so black/white/red hair bomba it is

i think she would be 27 in human years

hysperia | 🪴 ⌚ 🍡

this is my version of exotica, renamed hysperia, because i do not love her og name. its not fun. the name hysperia is taken from an ensemble kitten character from the og london production

i also based her design on a multitude of things, asides from her 2 costumes in 98—like some nbq/greycat designs since i feel like that design not becoming a common ensemble character was a waste. A WASTE I TELL YOU! ive also based her fur length on warsaw victoria because oh my godddd that design is so good. peak

her neck bow is a nod to the 2019 movie... the macavity girls w/ those bow collars. they were onto something there

she would have a much more prominent role than the few times she cameo'd in 98, still retaining the elegant/shy personality she shows in the film. shed be 29 in human years

cassandra | 🪐 ♠️ 🥯

i originally made her makeup a lot closer to her replica designs but decided to go for something a little different based on a makeup look i saw on pinterest LOL. so like. enjoy her slight earthy gothic vibes. i also didnt struggled too much on her outfit since i came into this knowing that i wanted her to be wearing something formfitting and bejeweled. a little circus-y too

more people have got to play up her disdainfulness. she'd be 26 in human years

alonzo | 🎹 🍢 🎳

once again, another design pretty similar to his standard replica one. i just tried to make the black patch on his face a little greyer and with some white detailing. because tbh every alonzo with white mascara makes me go crazy its so cute

i also tried to make his head fur/bangs a little distinctive—inspired by a random pic from a production i dont know the name of

enjoy his little cute fit too. pinklonzo. pastelonzo

that one gif of him pantomiming eating a playing card IS canon to me. he'd be 28 in human years

munkustrap | 📼 🥧🎙

verrrry similar to standard replica munks makeup-wise ! however, fur wise.... say hi to mulletstrap. to manestrap. 2 me he is tuggers brother so he gets that. i have no justification for the mullet other than idk, looks good, is funny, and the oslo 1985 production was right to give him one. also he and demeter can match now

i do like when theyre seen as something of a prince... so say hi to the gothenburg and opera populaire-esque epaulettes. theyre cayoot. they also get warsaw munks Big Pant Vibes

give this man a break. hed be 30 in human years

macavity | 🔥 🥂 🎯

he was actually one of the first cats i made design notes for when i started hyperfixating on this musical like.... two months ago. i really tried to mix elements from a bunch of different designs 4 him.... and sorry yall hes a deut brother too. im predictable

the manginess, mane, more ginger-y head fur, tugger-ness and the mouth markings from the 2016 revival... the big big hair, white fur and general makeup from his replica design... and the stylings of il sistina mac with the fitted coat. he also gets unique eyelashes like tugger—this time white instead of gold. he also gets that ominous magic cat eye shading

i think he would act a lot like 2019 mac... suave. but also not as dorky and desperate as he is in that movie LOL. he'd be 33 in human years

ONLY ONE MORE LEFT..... THE OLDIES........ MAYBE... I MIGHT MAKE DESIGNS FOR SOME OF THE SWINGS TOO LOL

[azaleapaperpad]

Red Curtains and Chandeliers

Phantom of The Opera (Broadway version)(Merik) x GN! Reader (Part 5) Final(?) Part WC: 1632

As the final act started, with Christine dancing on stage, you and your friends watched in anticipation, just waiting for the show to be over. You looked around for your friend, to try and tell them your plan to help him so they policemen and Raoul wouldn’t catch him. You squeezed between a few of the other dancers, trying to get to your best friend. They spotted you, and their eyes lit up. They gracefully maneuvered around the other ballerinas and went behind the group, meeting you. “Hello mon cher! I’m so sorry for leaving you earlier, but that officer offered to take me out after the show!” They whispered excitedly. You smirked at them, shaking your head. “Oh, darling, don’t rain on my parade.” They whined. You giggled as quietly as you could muster, and gave them a genuine smile. 

“I'm excited for you!” You whispered excitedly. Fuck. I can't ask them to help me out and ruin their night. Your smile faltered a little, bit you decided to tell them your plan anyhow. You ushered them further back so none of the other dancers could hear you, and to further make sure the audience couldn't hear you two. You ended up stepping out into one of the halls. 

“What's going on?” They inquired. 

“Well, I wanted to tell you… I'm going to attempt to confess to the Phantom. And I may need your help, actually. I'll try to make sure it doesn't affect your outing, but I certainly need your help.” You said, looking around to make sure no one else could hear you. They beamed at your idea, excitement radiating off of them. They nodded excitedly. You held onto their shoulders to ground them a bit, but their energy started to affect you, and you two were raising your toes in excitement. 

“Okay, so what is the plan?” They asked after calming down a bit. You took a second to recount how you would do so. 

“I was thinking of going to his lair. Tonight. But I need a distraction so I can get there without anyone noticing… maybe that outing could be a good distraction! See if you can get the other dancers, Christine and Raoul out there too.” You nodded, letting the wheels turn in your brain. 

“Brilliant, I’ll do my best!” They nodded excitedly. Then, unexpectedly, they pulled you in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you, darling. You’re going to show him what he’s missing!” They said as they hugged you. You felt your heart warm at their words of encouragement. 

“Thank you, I would never be able to do anything for myself without you here.” You thanked them. They truly were an amazing friend. As you two separated, you lead them back towards backstage to watch the finale, so as not to look too suspicious.

As you were watching, you noticed Sir Piangi seemed off, much like earlier. You made a mental note to check on him once all was said and done. The diet must have been messing with his stage presence. As the slow and sultry song of  “The Point of No Return” started, you watched intensely as Piangi commanded the stage, and Christine’s voice was smooth and buttery. Your insecurities started flaring up at the thought she’s been doing so well because of The Phantom’s aide. Your friend nudged you, noticing a worry line forming between your brows, and gave you a look that said ‘Are you okay?’ You shook off your insecurities and nodded slightly. 

The crescendo almost scared you as crashed through the theater. And then it hit you. That isn’t Sir Piangi. There’s only one presence that commands such an audience as grand as the Opera Populaire and all its patrons and staff. Before you could even react to your own revelation, The Phantom was revealed, in his pristine white mask. The audience, the staff, the dancers and singers, were all in shock. You looked over to your friend, and their shock was the same as everyone’s. Once they gained their consciousness back, they darted their head and gaze to you and mouthed;

“Run.”

You slipped out of the crowd relatively easily as you heard The Phantom begin to serenade Christine. Your heart ached, but as soon as you were out of earshot from the main stage, you bolted into a sprint as fast as you could. It wasn’t until a few seconds later, just as you were exiting the opera house that you heard another bang and you couldn’t hold back the scream you let out. You looked back and hesitated for a moment. Surely they couldn’t have gotten him. All impulses to run back vanished, and you continued, running as fast as you could to his lair. You remembered the path well, being careful with your steps. You ended up taking a bit of a longer path, but you were still faster than the mob you could hear in the distance. 

You entered and saw The Phantom and Christine, Christine herself berating him for taking her. You froze. You didn’t know what to say. He was begging her to stay, explaining that his ‘curse’ denied him a normal life and your heart ached more. Adrenaline and sorrow flowed through your veins before you could take it anymore. 

“Phantom! I’ve come to speak with you…” Your voice died down at the last few words. Both Christine and The Phantom looked at you in surprise. He wasn’t expecting you. 

“Let her go… please.” You begged as you approached them. 

“Christine isn’t going to love you, but I will. I’ve loved you from the day we met, and I’ve always been too scared to tell you. But if you stay here, you will get hurt. They’re coming for you, and I’m more afraid of seeing you hurt than I am of anything else. I’m…” tears started flowing down your cheeks, burning with hurt and love from the months of repression. 

“I’m sorry. I left you when I needed you most and I can’t stand to watch you like this anymore.” You choked as you got closer. The Phantom, still grasping the idea that you were here was still frozen. You wouldn’t know it, but your leaving hurt him more than you could imagine, and it drove him to the impossible extent to get Christine to drive his mind away from you. 

“Please… I love you.” You finally choked out, now closer to him, almost right next to him, just as you used to be. You reached for his hands, and held them, albeit you were both shaking. Christine took the moment to flee and found Raoul at the top of the stairs, stopping him from coming any further. 

“(Y/n), my dear… You have no idea how long I’ve missed you.” He said tenderly as he reached to wipe away your tears. You noticed tears starting to well in his eyes as well. You smiled up at him, a bittersweet smile and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around you as well, holding you tightly as if he were afraid you’d leave again. Once you let eachother out of the embrace, you looked around and noticed Raoul and Christine were gone, but you could still hear a mob outside. 

“We need to leave, they’ll find you here…” You said softly. He nodded at you and took your hand, leading you to a secret exit. You followed him and noticed the pattern as the one you would use to get from your room to the lair and vice versa when you were running late for your lessons with him in the past.  As you realized, you picked up pace with him and before you knew it, you were back in your dorms. You noticed that your best friend wasn’t there, and you immediately go to lock the door. Just as a safety precaution, in case they came to your room next. 

Once you two settled in, there was a palpable… sort of awkwardness in the air, before he broke the silence.

“I… I apologize, my angel. I was foolish to drive you away, and to try and follow Christine. You were… absolutely right. I had absolutely no right to put you both through what I did.” You softened at his words, and reached for his hand to comfort him. 

“You’re not the only one who needs to apologize, my dear Phantom-”

“Erik.”

“Pardon?”

“Please, my angel, call me Erik.” He said softly, as he took your other hand. You felt your heart melt at him now trusting you with his name.

“You’re not the only one who needs to apologize, Erik. I shouldn’t have been so overcome by jealousy as to leave you. I should have told you sooner that I loved you.” You apologized. He held your face gently as your apology came out. 

“And I love you too, (Y/n). I should have seen it sooner.” Erik confessed. You gave him a small smile as you leaned into his touch, a touch you’ve missed for a long time. 

“May I kiss you, Erik?” You asked, looking up at him. He shared your smile and leaned down to meet your lips. It was perfect, the way his misshapen lips connected with yours, filling the room with such love and devotion. 

Once you two broke the kiss, he looked deep into your eyes. “I promise to love you, and to protect you for as long as I shall live. I will never let my true angel feel like they aren’t loved ever again.” He promised, tears starting to form in his eyes again as he sealed his promise with another kiss. 

The End <3

Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm really sorry if the ending seems really rushed, but I've been trying to crank this out for a couple weeks and I wanted to end it a little better, but my procrastination and want to start on other works started taking over. I hope you enjoyed it! (Also, I've gotten a request to write a spicy end scene, so if that's something you guys would like to see, please let me know c;)