#mystery legends the phantom of the opera

[videogamepolls]

Requested by @hiddenobject-fanblog

[hiddenobject-fanblog]

This is still the superior design of Erik I've come across tbh

[darkparablesgainira]

[rainbowthefox]

This one looks really good for being made back in 2010

[natsuzora]

Playing a hidden object game based on POTO and uhhhh me when I when he when when 😳

[letter-orcs-art]

In which the phantom realizes he kidnapped the wrong person.

(I kinda re-discovered my once fav game - Mystery Legends: The Phantom of the Opera)(and... guys... the inspiration...)

[free-for-all-fics]

Phantom of the Opera AU Prompt inspired by Disney’s Phantom Manor! Some dialogue and inspiration taken from Mystery Legends: Phantom of the Opera and the Leroux novel, but this could work for whichever version you like! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by this and I’d love to read it! 👻🤍

The Phantom's identity had been treated as ambiguous for a long time, a random dark spirit that arbitrarily chose to ruin your wedding. After several years, the story of what really happened came out from underneath the charred and blackened rubble of the Paris Opera House:

After your mother died when you were six years old, life didn’t go as your father, Joseph Buquet, had hoped it to be. He’d often get drunk and grab you, yelling about how he was a failure before bursting into tears. Every time he’d do that, you also cried and begged him to stop, telling him it was all your fault. When he sobered up, he’d embrace you and give you treats, apologizing for what he’d done. But as his money wore away, he'd have these fits more and more often. At least you still loved your father, but he was all that you had and you had to sing in the streets to make some money to provide for him and yourself, at least until he found a job. He couldn’t seem to hold one for long, though. The few coins you did make, he would take the tin can you collected them in and spend most of it on alcohol for himself, or sometimes a cheap toy or doll if he was feeling guilty for not being a better man and father to you. To make ends meet, your father didn’t have much choice but to join the Paris Opera as the chief stagehand while you joined the chorus when you were ten years old.

He began telling you and anyone who would listen stories of an Opera Ghost that haunted the theatre, describing his horrific corpse-like face in great detail. His ghost stories frightened the ballet girls, but you had heard this kind of talk from him before, so you just thought he was on another one of his drunken ramblings. You didn’t think much of it. Despite being warned not to, your father got himself drunk and wandered down into the Opera House catacombs for some inexplicable reason. Maybe he was trying to follow someone?

He never returned to the surface and was later found dead, hanged in the third cellar between a flat and a set piece from “Le roi de Lahore”. Unbeknownst to anyone, his corpse was right next to the entrance to the Phantom's torture chamber. Due to his intoxicated state and the cause of death, it was ruled a depression-driven suicide…but was it really? Left all alone, you were a bastard and an orphan, a peasant girl trying to make your way in the world and a name for yourself with your singing, but your singing wasn't anything special before your lessons with the Angel of Music, whom you believed had been sent to you from Heaven by your deceased father.

Under the Angel’s tutelage, you were almost supernaturally skilled at singing. During those many months, you went from a light soubrette to a dark soprano of almost divine quality. You only communicated with your Angel through your dressing room wall, never seeing his face or learning his name. A string of admirers, all obviously enraptured, stared on in plain view while you performed on stage. As your voice rang throughout the concert hall, he reflected from the shadows of Box 5 on how well he had taught you and how you had given yourself over to him, your Angel of Music.

In womanhood, many men vied for your hand but none were ever good enough for you in the Phantom’s eyes. He deeply resented all of your suitors, so he terrorized them in the hopes he’d scare them into leaving the Opera House forever, never to return. But despite his best attempts, your suitors were stubborn skeptics who refused to believe in ghosts and wouldn’t leave, still insistent on pursuing you romantically. They ignored all his threats and warnings, so the Phantom murdered them all, one-by-one. He wanted to have you all to himself. You spent most of your time under the Phantom’s power, helpless to act against him in fear that he'd hurt either you or someone else in the Opera House.

He kidnapped you multiple times, with the intention of romancing you and making you his living wife so that he could buy you nice things and take you out on Sundays. He held you prisoner in a luxurious Louis-Philippe bedroom, keeping you like a songbird in a gilded cage to sing only for him. He would always drug you with a cursed fragrance to ensure your cooperation - He lived a life where trust and faith were impossible luxuries. He forced his gold wedding ring on your finger and warned you that you mustn’t lose it. You were protected so long as you wore it, and it was then that he finally revealed to you that he was called Erik. Erik’s ring was rather plain, quite old and rusty. Wedding rings were quite expensive and he didn’t have enough money to buy a new ring.

“This ring is one of my most precious possessions. This was my poor mother’s wedding ring. This ring deprived my poor mother of her freedom, instead gifting her with a hideous son. But for you, this ring symbolizes the promise of freedom. Unless you are curious as to the consequences of denying my love, then be sure to keep hold of my ring. After this damn month I promised you, you will become my bride. This was your destiny, from the moment you met the Angel of Music! You shall be mine, and stay in my damned hell with me forever! I can already hear the wedding bells! Kyrie….Kyrie.…Kyrie eleison...”

You later fell in love with and became engaged to another man. Despite the Phantom becoming increasingly controlling and aggressive towards you, you developed a case of Stockholm Syndrome so bad that you frantically urged your fiancé to take you far away from the Opera House and the Phantom before the month was out, no matter how much you begged to be taken back. Not that he had a chance to follow up on his promise…

Your paramour didn’t like that you were wearing Erik’s ring. He wanted to marry you himself and didn’t want to keep your engagement secret, despite your insistence that it had to be this way for everyone’s sake. You confided in your fiancé that you fell madly in love with the Phantom, but you were also terrified of the control he had over your soul. You couldn't recognize yourself anymore, and did whatever he told you. When your fiancé tried to tell you that you were in over your head with a man you didn't know, you gave him the familiar, "You-don't-know-anything-about-him-it's-none-of-your-business" speech.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Erik eavesdropped on you and learned of your plans to run away and elope. You thought you could escape to the roof and keep secrets from him, but you were gravely mistaken. He could be everywhere. He could see and hear everything! He could move through the walls and doors in the Opera. He couldn’t bear the prospect of you being taken away from him forever, so he rigged all the doors and windows in the Opera House so everything would be locked or stuck. No key would open anything, and no weapon or tool could break through. He sabotaged any and all attempts to escape to the outside. No horses or carriages would come to rescue you or anybody else trapped inside. And even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to do anything. Erik had fallen in love with you, became fixated on you. His restless spirit wanted you and, mark his words, he would have you. He wouldn’t be denied.

“I had given you everything, yet you chose him over me! The pain I felt would pale in comparison to the destruction that would follow.”

You and your fiancé had no other choice but to hold your nuptials in the Opera House. On your wedding day, you were thoroughly distressed when you lost Erik’s ring because you didn’t know what would happen. The mysterious Opera Ghost appeared in your vanity mirror, seeking revenge on you for your betrayal. Legend has it that, while you were preparing in your room, the Phantom lured your fiancé up into the discreet and secluded attic, where he hanged him by the neck from the rafters with his Punjab Lasso. In the ballroom, the bride sat alone. The wedding march played and you waited, but many hours went by with no sign of your groom. Guests slowly filed away, leaving you alone in the makeshift church with the staff. You kept telling the butlers and maids that he would come.

"Someday," you told yourself, "he will come.”

And so, having never taken off your wedding dress or dropped your bouquet, in preparation for your beloved’s return, you wandered the Opera House aimlessly, singing melancholy songs of lost love. Erik found the ring and he gave it back to you, forcing it on your finger once more. This time he made sure your soul would be bound to his and you could never take it off. You became infuriated when you learned your "Angel" was, in actuality, a malevolent specter with the appearance of a rotting corpse. He tricked you. He took advantage of you in your fragile and vulnerable emotional state while you were grieving your father, whom he murdered. Just like how he murdered your fiancé and God knows who else. Your capacity to anger was much more pronounced when you briefly attacked him and finally snarled at him that you hated him and you had no sympathy for him after all the evil he’d done.

“Who are you really?”

“Have you forgotten your Angel of Music already? I shall show you everything and make you remember! Don’t you dare raise your hand to me! What you see is who I am. Who I’ve always been. Who I will always be. Do you like what you see? Know,” he shouted, while his throat throbbed and panted like a furnace, “know that I am built up of death from head to foot and that it is a corpse that loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you! Your freedom had nothing to do with letting you marry that unworthy man. Did you truly think I'd let you get away with your affair? I did what I had to, for our love! I will kill all who stand in our way and set you free! You will curse the day you betrayed me.”

You were the obsession of a nigh-unstoppable, hideous, insane, stalking serial killer who wanted to marry you and keep you underground with him forever until you died. The vulnerability of being the trapped love of a monster was especially palpable as when you took a bath in Erik’s lair you kept some scissors close by, ready to kill yourself - out of the fear Erik would rape you while you were naked. While Erik never forced himself on you and showed no interest in anything of a sexual nature, he still wanted you to never leave his side. That domination he had over you was very unsettling, especially given how traumatized you were by it.

When Erik prepared to force you to marry him, you attempted to kill yourself to escape him by stabbing yourself or slitting your wrists or throat with the scissors, but Erik intervened and took those away from you. You then bashed your head against a wall, hoping you’d be sent to Heaven or Hell to escape him. The soft darkness of nothing, in all of its shadowed velvet embrace, would be better than this Purgatory you found yourself in. You didn’t succeed. The Phantom stopped you from killing yourself by tying you to a chair. Another sigh, deeper, more tremendous still, came from the abysmal depths of your soul.

"Why did you cry out, my love?”

"Because I am in pain, Erik."

"I thought I had frightened you."

"Erik, unloose my bonds…Am I not your prisoner?"

"You will try to kill yourself again."

You once again sat at your dresser in your boudoir, an old woman, crying and rubbing your eyes with a tissue. Your dress that was once a pristine white became stained with gray and brown spots. From dust and…dirt or dried blood? You couldn’t remember. Your bouquet of red roses became black. What manner of sorrow could rob a rose of its very color? Tear-stained letters between you, your fiancé, a friend, and your father could be seen sitting on a table, along with your wedding portrait. What a pity it would remain incomplete. What a pity your groom-who-never-was-to-be would never get his portrait painted to hang alongside yours.

Erik still inhabited the Opera House, laughing and mocking your human devotion to your intended husband. There was no reason why he did all these evil deeds, and even if there was one, he apparently loved to do it. In the following years, he invited his dead and demonic friends from the afterlife to fill the Opera House in an eternal party. Your wedding march became a sinister organ rendition of the Phantom’s own design, his music scores written in dark red ink - Wait, not ink, blood. Fret not, beloved, for if he drew all these music scores with his blood, he wouldn’t be standing here before you. This piece was either a wedding mass or a requiem mass. It was up to you to decide.

A dark curse fell upon the Opera House. The state of it and the surrounding grounds was slowly transformed and corrupted by the evil forces, until it was abandoned indefinitely, with you presumably dying inside, never having found your groom. In present day it’s derelict and the grounds are overrun with bramble, plants, and trees that have grown wild. All the flowers have died and can no longer grow in tainted soil.

“Oh, how long I have waited for this day! Welcome back, my love. Welcome to my realm. Here our lives will begin anew. This time I will make you love me. This time you won’t leave me. This time…you will stay with me forever. You denied me love, and I shall deny you freedom.”

Erik has condemned the poor bride to haunt the Opera House for all eternity. To this day, it’s believed that the Opera House is still haunted by yours and Erik’s ghosts, along with his 999 ghastly guests. He continues to haunt you from beyond the grave. Unlike the rest of the ghosts who are lost and wandering souls, he's a purely evil and homicidal spirit who enjoys being cruel, and seems intent on tormenting you. You remain vigilant in the search for your lost love, but waiting for over a century for your groom - and living with Erik’s abuse - has taken its toll on you.

So desperate for true love and affection after years of loneliness and maltreatment from the Phantom, you propose to anyone who dares to step foot inside the Opera House, in the vain hope that one of them will save you and take you away from here. When that doesn’t work, you urge them to turn back. If they don’t heed your first warnings, you point them in the right direction and try to help them escape the Opera House while Erik taunts them. You warn them against going down certain hallways, knowing they’d lead straight into deadly traps or Erik himself, but sometimes they’re so afraid and on edge that they don’t stop to think or listen to you. Your attempts to save people from Erik don’t always succeed, but you keep trying anyway as an act of defiance against him. Many guests have entered the Opera house and only a lucky few have ever made it back out, but that few is enough to motivate you to keep fighting against Erik.

Erik’s disembodied voice greets the guests as he makes an impassioned speech about the beauty that once lived in the Opera House, insisting that beauty lives here still, before lightning strikes and a cloaked man is visible from the rafters, hanging your groom. His corpse swings down above everyone’s heads, sometimes with a sickening crack as if his neck has just been broken. The Phantom materializes in the conservatory only as a shadow, invisibly playing the piano, then in the ballroom, standing in a shattered window obscured by darkness, laughing at the crying bride. A few rooms later, he’s standing outside the Bride’s Boudoir and makes himself fully visible to you as a skeleton-faced man, a living corpse.

The Phantom is next seen laughing and gesturing to your coffin - an unmarked, ornate black tomb where you will find no rest nor peace. Guests who touch it feel warmth emanating from beneath the coffin’s lid while something inside is pulsing. The rhythmic vibrations give off the sensation of a beating heart that’s still pumping blood. Erik appears one last time, staring down at you from a window on the second floor of the Opera House before finally disappearing. He intends to never, ever let you leave the Opera House. Are the subsequent guests who come to visit going mad or is this place truly haunted? What sort of sick fantasy is this?

Those brave enough to venture down below into the catacombs beneath the Opera House and fortunate enough to survive the dark and disorienting descent down into Erik’s lair will find a crypt that holds a black coffin that matches yours. There’s an inscription in the stone. It reads, “Here Lies the Angel of Music”. Is this where the Opera Ghost is buried? But wait, that doesn’t make any sense! The Phantom of the Opera is just a myth, an urban legend, a ghost story to scare kids. It was just a tactic to boost public interest in the Opera House and increase ticket sales and tourism! Why would a person who never truly existed have a tomb? Erik isn’t real or alive…or is he? Is this a stage prop? Upon opening it, there’s no corpse or human remains! A single black rose is all that lay in the Opera Ghost’s grave!

The foolish mortals can hear the Phantom’s maniacal laughter as they make a dismaying observation: This chamber has no windows and no doors…Which offers them this chilling challenge: To find a way out! Of course, there’s always his way…

[canon-in-too-deep]

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Persuasion by Jane Austen

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

The Merry Adventures of Robinhood by Howard Pyle (Illustrated)

Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie

Dracula by Bram Stoker

The Call of Cthulhu by H. P. Lovecraft

The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle (Illustrated)

The Invisible Man by H. G. Wells

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (Illustrated)

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (Illustrated)

The Odyssey by Homer

Tales of Space and Time by H. G. Wells

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A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens (Illustrated)

The Book of Dragons by E. Nesbit (Illustrated)

Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare

Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea by Jules Verne (Illustrated)

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll (Illustrated)

Leave it to Psmith by P. G. Wodehouse

Lord Peter views the body by Dorothy L. Sayers

The Room in the Tower by E. F. Benson

Right Ho, Jeeves by P. G. Wodehouse

The Time Machine by H. G. Wells

Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

Poirot Investigates by Agatha Christie

Grimms' Fairy Tales by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux

Andersen's Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving

Shakespeare's Sonnets by William Shakespeare

The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe (Illustrated)

Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery

A Journey to the Centre of the Earth by Jules Verne

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen

Notre-Dame de Paris by Victor Hugo

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum

The Blue Fairy Book (Font Sampler Edition) edited by Andrew Lang

A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs

Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott (Illustrated)

The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie

Emma by Jane Austen

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[godzilla-reads]

My Year of Gothic Reading 2024

Rules: For each month in 2024 you have to pick either a book, poem, or short story to read that carries gothic themes or aesthetic. Here's a list of suggested reading, but feel free to read something else or add others onto this list!

Books

"Rebecca" by Daphne du Maurier

"The Turn of the Screw" by Henry James

"Frankenstein" by Mary Shelley

"The Mysteries of Udolpho" by Ann Radcliffe

"The Phantom of the Opera" by Gaston Leroux

"Dracula" by Bram Stoker

"The Castle of Otranto" by Horace Walpole

"The Monk" by Matthew Lewis

"The Haunting of Hill House" by Shirley Jackson

"Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Bronte

"The Picture of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde

"Carmilla" by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

Short Stories

"The Great God Pan" by Arthur Machen

"The Tell-Tale Heart" by Edgar Allan Poe

"The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

"The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" by Washington Irving

"The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Hr. Hyde" by Robert Louis Stevenson

"The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson

"The Masque of the Red Death" by Edgar Allan Poe

"The Sandman" by E.T.A. Hoffman

"The Mark of the Beast" by Rudyard Kipling

"The Vampyre" by John William Polidori

"The Birds" by Daphne du Maurier

"The Cats of Ulthar" by H.P. Lovecraft

Poems

"The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe

"The cold earth slept below" by Percy Bysshe Shelley

"The Lady of Shalott" by Lord Alfred Tennyson

"My own Beloved, who has lifted me" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

"What Would I Give?" by Christina Rossetti

"Time to Come" by Walt Whitman

"Love and Death" by Lord Byron

"Because I could not stop for Death" by Emily Dickinson

"La Belle Dame sans Merci" by John Keats

"The End" by D.H. Lawrence

"Hymn to the Night" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"The Possessed" by Charles Baudelaire

[thedemonofcat]

Phantom of the Opera Au: where Geralt is hired to investigate a series of disappearances at an Opera house in Oxenfurt. Where Jaskier is currently working for a time.

Now, since Geralt isn’t ready to face Jaskier after everything that happened on the Mountain, along with not wanting to alert whoever is behind the disappearance that a Witcher is on to him. Geralt ends up disguising himself using the old legend of the Phantom of the Opera

Jaskier isn’t sure who this mysterious Phantom is or why he keeps coming into his room at night. But slowly, each night, Jaskier finds himself falling in love

[hiddenobject-fanblog]

[darkparablesgainira]

The angel of music, the phantom of the opera... I still don't know how to say it correctly, lol ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

[rainbowthefox]

ngl though it KILLED IT

[natsuzora]

Hiiii. can I ask where you found the phantom of the opera game?

It's a site called Big Fish Games! They have a lot of hidden object games.

https://www.bigfishgames.com/us/en/games/6020/mystery-legends-phantom-opera-collectors-f6020t1l1/?pc

[luneemeritus]

「Kissie Spot」

(Lon Chaney Erik x GN Reader) Romantic, sugestive but SFW

Another fanfiction, yay! This is Lon Chaney's version of Erik because the silent movie is my favorite adaptation. I'm not used to write self-insert fanfictions soooo plz give me a break 🥹 the Reader is gender neutral by the way 👍🏽 have good reading :3

You woke up after a comfortable night sleep in a bed shaped like a swan. The few seconds after awakening were enough for you to remember the events of the previous day: you were courted by the Phantom of the Opera himself, the mysterious specter in the darkness. He brought you to his subterranean abode and trusted enough to tell you his true name: Erik. Gods, he loved you! The fearsome nameless legend that prowled the theater was madly in love with you. It felt weird, like acidic butterflies dancing inside you. It was strange, even frightening at one point, but at the same time… tender. Like a hidden desire touched on in the most libertine of nights.

You get up in bed and observe the room around you, everything was perfectly architected as a dark lair. The style of the catacombs reminded you of the so-called 'barbarian architecture' of the Dark Ages, a name given by the Renaissance that sounded rather insensitive towards 'gothic' sculptures. Everything that referred to the occult, the demonic and the incomprehensible was fascinating to you, and apparently, to the Phantom as well.

Your thoughts are interrupted when macabre and terribly dramatic music is played on the pipe organ. The melody rang through your ears like a siren's voice seduces sailors; it was impossible not to lean towards the triumphant spectacle. If, on just one instrument, music disturbingly penetrated your soul, you imagined what it would be like to hear the piece in a large and phenomenal orchestra. You left the room and headed towards the masked man. He played the pipe organ like no other musician, it was the darkest, most intense and most pleasurable way you will ever witness. You approach Erik and tap him on the shoulder, eliciting a noticeable anxiety that sends shivers down his spine.

— Oh! You're awake... - Erik said, sighing - I... I made you breakfast. You can stay here for as long as you like.

Erik, in contrast to the chivalry of the day before, felt shy and unsure of himself when talking to you. It's like he can't believe you stayed in his house without dying or running away in the middle of the night.

— I appreciate it, but I'm not hungry right now. – you answer, running your fingers gently over his shoulders – What song was that? Did you write it?

— Oh, yes – Erik pointed to the sheet music in front of him, written 'Don Juan Triumphant' – Ever since I laid eyes on you, this song echoes through my head. The sound of love triumphant.

If it weren't for the ominous, pale mask, you'd be able to watch Erik's face redden – just as your own face did. He played again, this time less immersed in the feeling. Visibly uneasy... your presence was like a test to him, and even more so for his proximity. You decide to break that invisible barrier, sit down next to Erik and wrap one of your arms around his back.

— It must be a divine triumph, judging by that small piece of the play.

— A-ah, yes... - Erik replies, feeling a little more courageous with all the praise he received – I put all my inner demons into this work. But there is beauty in everything, even the most vile of gargoyles... in my music, that's how it is.

Comments of that nature always came out in a sad tone from the Phantom's lips. Judging by his anxiety and the mask that covered his face at all times, you'd come to the conclusion that he had a lot of issues with self image. After all, who would isolate themselves from the world, in a catacomb, if not to escape the horrors outside? But you wanted Erik to trust you, just as you placed your trust in him when you accompanied him underground.

— Erik – you call him, resting your head on his shoulder – Can I see your face?

Upon hearing this question, Erik shuddered and stopped playing, abruptly pulling away from you.

— D-don't ever ask me to do that! Please, my angel, I... I don't have a face. What I have is the remains of a face, a carcass abandoned and despised by the Gods. No one must see my face... especially you.

— Why do you say that? You do not trust me? – you approach him again and join your hands in his.

— I… I trust you, but… – Erik stammered, his eyes filled with tears – Not even my parents loved me. They rejected me for my face, just like everyone else... that's why I live in hiding, to avoid going through the same horrors as before.

Your chest ached with sadness hearing those harsh words. You couldn't imagine how a father, a mother, could be so cruel to their own child! You had no idea how broken Erik was, after so many years in a cycle of pain and rejection. You slowly approached and hugged him, feeling him shudder at first. Erik got emotional and hugged you back, still a little hesitant; his hot tears fell onto your shoulder.

— I'm not going to lose all feelings I have for you just because you have a different face. You are an amazing and lovable person, Erik. Please don't let anyone convince you otherwise.

— Oh… – the masked man laid his head on the crook of your neck, barely able to believe that moment.

Erik pulled away from the hug, his hands shaking and sweating cold. He looked paler than usual. With his head down and his gaze averted from his, Erik takes his hand to the mask and slowly removes it, revealing more and more the morbid and slightly yellow skin. Once his face was completely revealed, he kept his eyes tightly closed as his body became more and more trembling. His skin was abnormally glued to the face, forming a cadaverous image with two holes for a nose. His eyes were very sunken, just like a skeleton. His thinness, what little remained of his lips and its strange coloring referred to the very image of death. Furthermore, the black cloth that accompanied the white mask revealed a bald spot on his head.

Silent seconds – that seemed like hours – were enough for you to analyze that deformity as a whole. The only thing you dared to do was reach your right hand to Erik's face, stroking his cheek. He immediately let out a sigh, scared at first, but relaxed as he felt that caress.

— You see? I said nothing would change between us. – you finally said.

— Oh... - Erik finally opened his eyes and had the courage to face you. He covered your right hand with his, intoxicated by your touch – You... are truly... an angel. My angel…

Erik chastely kissed the palm of your hand. You didn't stop there, instead you hugged him tightly. He didn't say anything else, just sobbed in a silent cry. There was no need to say anything at that moment. While he was distracted – hopelessly immersed in your embrace – you took the opportunity to tuck your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the sweet masculine scent he had. Erik jumped at the scent he received.

— Wh-what are you doing?

— Sniffing you, silly. – Don't you like it?

Erik thought for a moment. He didn't want to be inappropriate, too needy, or even sound like a pervert. Yet, your fondness was undeniable... it was like an addictive drug he didn't want to retire from. He nodded slowly in affirmation, his face was noticeably flushed. You continued the affection, sniffing and kissing Erik's neck as he let out short, shy sighs. You dared, kissing even his cheek; you felt his salty tears on your tongue, which only emboldened you more. With your hands, you lowered Erik's head to your shoulders and placed a long kiss on his bald head.

— Y-you don't have to do that – he said, stuttering and shuddering, while you continued to place several kisses on his head – I'm not, ah!, I'm not worthy of this affection…

— Yes, you are worthy – you said, finally – And I am willing to kiss all over your body, if you allow me.

Erik smirked and bit his lip, like a child eager for a gift. He stands up, still shy but feeling a slight surge of confidence.

— So... Do you want to go to your room?

You smiled, excited by the invitation, and took Erik's hands.

— I'd love to – you said at last, leading him to your room where you've woken up that morning.

Doing your best to respect his space and time, you wait for him to sit on the bed and continue trailing kisses down his face and neck. Erik gently hugged your waist, sliding his fingers down your back once in a while. He was very quiet, but always flushed and smiling as he received your touches – sometimes he let out a soft giggle. Your hands dared to lift the fabric of his pants, revealing the scarred, pale skin of his legs, which made him pull away again.

— Oh! Sorry, I didn't expect that! – he said awkwardly – M-my legs are not a pleasant sight…

— What do you mean?

— Look at me, I'm sickeningly skinny, I barely have any body hair, and… well, those blue veins are very noticeable. And not just on my leg...

— Erik… – you ran your hand over the musician's trembling shins – I think you're beautiful from head to toe. And jumpy veins are normal, everyone has them.

— But mine are different! It was... years... years of slavery that punished my body so much... these scars, they...

— They don't matter. All of that is in the past, Erik. You're here with me – you kissed him passionately on the lips, which made him gasp over your nose – That's what matters now.

You slowly lowered yourself over his body, placing a light kiss on his leg. Feeling him approve of your attitude, you continued kissing each scar, each bluish and bulging vein that caused so much agony and bad memories. Erik managed not to make any undue noises, instead he lied back on the bed and closed his eyes, appreciating your affection. But he wasn't prepared for your next step: you lifted his pants higher and kissed his inner thigh, which made him accidentally let out a moan of pleasure. It had mere seconds, but loud enough for you to hear. He was terribly embarrassed, redder than a strawberry.

— F-forgive me, I… tried not to…

You laugh softly and grab him by the waist.

— It's okay, Erik. We don't need to go further if you don't want to – you crawl towards his chest, until their faces meet – But there's no need to be ashamed of feeling pleasure.

With those words, Erik felt as if pounds of guilt and anxiety had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt comfortable, happy, calm, all around you. During his years living under violence, slavery and isolation, he never thought he would find a place so comforting. This place was you, your love, your hug, your smell, everything you could offer.

— Oh… my angel… I couldn't ask for a better gift.

— I say the same – you answer, kissing him again on the lips and feeling his skin rubbing against yours – I love you, Erik.

He smiled while more tears ran down his face. The Phantom of the Opera was loved, loved for what he was. He was saved by your love.

[free-for-all-fics]

Phantom of the Opera AU Prompt inspired by Death Upon an Austrian Sonata: A Dana Knightstone Novel! This was written with the Mystery Legends: Phantom of the Opera hidden objects game in mind, but other versions could work, pick whichever you like. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by this and I’d love to read it! 🎻🤎

A clairvoyant and up-and-coming novelist has the ability to see and speak to ghosts. This has proved very useful in building a successful writing career, as they’ve used their skills to investigate unsolved mysteries involving ghosts and the past tragedies that befell them in life. They often focus on the people, places, and circumstances surrounding strange and unusual deaths to piece together a series of events. Thanks to them, many restless spirits have finally found the peace they’ve long sought after. The novelist has been busy putting their pen to paper and, while the ghosts move on, their life stories become bestsellers. These ghosts may be gone, but they won’t ever be forgotten. The clairvoyant receives a letter from their distant cousin, Marguerite, the Baroness de Castelot-Barbezac, seeking their help.

In her letter, Marguerite explains that she’s been hearing eerie violin music in her Paris manor and a terrified woman haunts her dreams every night. In said dreams, the ghost played her violin beautifully in front of a captivated audience at the Paris Opera House, while the Phantom gazed at her longingly from afar in Box 5. Why did he have such a passionate interest in this violinist? She asks her cousin to come visit her as soon as possible, all expenses will be paid. The baroness is a woman who adores having her own way and her request cannot be denied. According to her, the ghost's music and her death are connected. The clairvoyant needs to speak to their cousin in person to find out more.

But what they see in Marguerite’s room changes everything. In her letter, she mentioned she was terminally ill, but they hadn’t realized her condition would be this bad. A woman of thirty-five and she’s already bedridden most days. Servants tend to her at beck and call while her husband is away, but none of them seem to notice you, the ghost devotedly sitting at her bedside! Although you’re a ghost, you still seem to care greatly for her! A living person! The mistress of the grand house was a dear friend to you in life, back when you both performed in the Paris Opera House. Before she was married and became The Baroness Marguerite de Castelot-Barbezac and a great lady, she was simply Meg Giry, a ballet girl who was your best friend and closest confidante.

She let you possess her body to write the letter in her hand and sign it with her name since her illness rendered her unable. Even after your death, she’s still loyal to you and wants to help in any way she can. She points to a picture frame on her nightstand and it’s a portrait of you! And standing beside you in the photo is a man - your teacher, perhaps? His face can’t be seen since he’s turned away from the camera. He’s only a silhouette in the background.

“Thank you for coming. I know you must have many questions, so let’s not waste time. Just like you, I can sense ghosts. The ghost that’s with us now is a musician. She was a famous violinist in the Paris Opera House, but both her violin and compositions went missing shortly before her untimely death. Almost everything got burned up in the Opera House Fire of ‘96, so this is the only surviving photo I have of her. As beautiful as the music she played, isn’t she? Here, take it. It’ll help you. In my dreams, I saw my dearest friend hiding away something valuable…Music sheets. Of her own composition. And then she was running - running away from someone, fearing for her life. Perhaps she fell, or was pushed…But she drowned in the lake. I don’t know who was chasing her. It happens too often; I know they’re not just dreams. Her music continues to haunt me. It’s beautiful, but fragmented. When I have my strength, I try to transcribe what I hear, in bits and pieces. She wants me to find her music, but with my current condition I can’t move much. It seems that she hid her violin and music from someone. What happened to her? What's the connection between her music and her death? I need to find out, but I can no longer do this alone.”

But while digging up your secrets, the clairvoyant may find themself falling headlong into danger while they play detective. The Opera House has been abandoned for years, condemned and left to rot ever since a great fire engulfed it following the last performance of “Don Juan Triumphant”. Its walls are filled with so many memories for you, most of them still painful. It feels like you just escaped from there and left behind all the horror, the tragedy, the death, everything. You’re very reluctant to return to that cursed and godforsaken place, but Meg urges you to go back. She knows you’d be of great help, so you accompany her cousin to the abandoned Opera House, apprehensive about what you may find inside. But you must do this. You’re so sad and weary, but you won’t be able to Rest In Peace until your violin and music sheets are found and the truth behind your death is made known.

The Opera House was once something truly beautiful, full of grand parties, music, and laughter. But now it’s burned to ash, black and decayed - It’s little more than a charred coffin, and there’s a ghost who’s lingered over this coffin and made it his eternal resting place. Forever alone in death just as he was in life, Erik haunts his Opera House. Neither of you can see him but he uses ventriloquism to throw his voice around the hollowed halls.

“Welcome to my Opera House. Welcome to your destiny! The time has come to be reunited with your Angel of Music. Do you remember our last meeting? Let me show you…Ah, I see you’ve brought a guest. Welcome, stranger, to my Opera House!”

“Who are you?”

“I am Erik. I am the Angel of Music. I am Don Juan Triumphant. I am the Phantom of the Opera! Come, prove your love to me! Bring me a black rose, and I shall show you everything!”

The Phantom has asked for a black rose! These black roses could represent his obsessive, dangerous love for you. It was a warm spring or summer day when you were at Meg’s, but the outside of the Opera House has suddenly been covered in a blanket of deep snow, and parts of the building are frozen. If Meg’s cousin set one foot outside, the blizzard would have them broken and bloody over a cliff! This can only be Erik’s doing, willing his personal Hell to literally freeze over. You’re both trapped here until either the storm passes and the snow melts, or Erik lets you both go. Meg’s cousin can’t wait around for the former, so time is of the essence before they either starve to death or succumb to Hypothermia.

As you and Meg’s cousin investigate and explore the Opera House in search of the black roses, you share with them your precious memories of the time you spent in each room. When you first came here, you had heard tales being whispered about an Opera Ghost, a creature, spirit, or man who roamed the halls and possessed the talent to disappear before your very eyes. Unbeknownst to you, he had been hiding behind the mirrors, always watching you whenever you rehearsed and played your violin. With all of these stories from the ballet girls and Joseph Buquet running through your head, you were prepared to scream and fight for your life when he first made himself known to you. But when he looked down at you, you could see a sort of sadness that you had never before seen in any other adult. You looked into his piercing yellow eyes and were not afraid, but entranced. Instead of hate or fear, you showed him compassion. That was the day your tragedy was set in motion.

“My only dream was for the world to hear my music, but he took that away from me. He wanted me to only play music for him, threatening to destroy everything I loved if I disobeyed. He could take my life but not my passion for music. I had to protect what was left of me now - my precious violin and my music. I had hoped that one day, someone would find all the sheets that I had left behind in those music boxes. I’m very grateful you’re here now. If anyone can find them, it’ll be you! But it’s been twenty years since my death and I can no longer remember where I put them!”

You both search for clues, evidence, anything that may be useful in finding your violin and sheet music. You wish you could be of more help, but you’ve been dead and trapped in limbo for so long that it’s taken its toll on your mind. Your memory is very foggy, all scrambled up in bits and pieces - 1896 feels like ages ago! You remember that Erik demanded the managers pay his monthly salary in order to prevent accidents from occurring, and even gave them orders as to how the Opera House should be run. Everything he asked for was done without question, and should someone challenge him, terrible things occurred. Just then, Erik’s disembodied voice echos throughout the Manager’s Office.

“The Managers were fools! They thought they could disobey me! I showed them just how real my cruelty could be. The managers would come to understand payment of my salary was worth every penny, if they hoped to continue their productions without incident! Do you remember how you played for me? I was always watching. Your music rang through the concert hall. The audience, obviously enraptured, stared on in plain view. I reflected from the shadows on how well I had taught you and how you had given yourself over to me, your Angel of Music!”

You find a note written by Joseph Buquet, the stagehand. In it, he describes seeing a man lurking in the caverns below the Opera House. Despite his own ambivalence, Joseph had plans to expose the man. You discover his corpse in the Actor’s Alley, stashed away in a sarcophagus stage prop by the Phantom. The small viewing window only allows you to see his sickly green hands clutching a black rose. The glass in the mirror cracks just as Meg’s cousin carefully takes the black rose from Joseph’s decayed fingers, careful not to touch him or gag from the putrid smell. Erik’s waiting behind the glass, holding out his gloved hand for the black rose expectantly.

“So you saw Joseph? I did what I had to, for our love! The stagehand thought he could capture me? His curiosity was his undoing. The stagehand should have stayed in his place. Now a threat to my plans, I would not allow him to pursue me any further. The scene for his demise was set. My only regret is that Joseph’s suspension spoiled your violin concerto. You played your solo so beautifully before he dropped in on your performance, unannounced.”

You go from room to room in the Opera House, helping Meg’s cousin avoid not only the still-active death traps Erik has left lying around, but the environmental dangers such as loose electrical wires, icy floors, flooded rooms, etc. You closely inspect anything that stands out as you uncover more and more dark secrets. Erik’s voice follows you everywhere you go. He’s always watching, always waiting. Every mirror you pass, he’s there. However, it’s your old dressing room that confuses you. Or rather where the door to your room should have been. Instead there’s a wall made of red brick that has elegantly carved designs on it, making it the most beautiful brick wall you have ever seen.

Why would Erik put a brick wall all the way down here? Meg’s cousin cannot tear down the wall or follow you inside, so you tell them to wait right there while you pass through and take a look around, alone. Erik is there, waiting for you. He’s been in your old room this whole time, using smoke and mirrors and ventriloquism to make you both believe he was following you and hiding behind the glass of every mirror you passed.

“I taught you how to play in this very room. Do you remember? I’d been trying to get your attention but you were just so preoccupied with those concerts of yours. All I wanted was to spend some time with you alone. Why did you run from me? Was this how you repaid your Angel of Music? Wasn’t it I who made you famous? Was it too much to ask you to play music only for me? Why were you so stubborn? Why did you have to die?”

For a few fleeting moments, he shows emotional vulnerability to you and only you, his love (or object of obsession). He lets you see the man behind the mask, his voice raw and thick with longing and remorse, as if he’s on the verge of crying for you but cannot will any tears to be shed. But it’s gone faster than you can blink, and he once again dons a mask of impassivity.

“You’ve come quite far. Are you ready to descend into my realm? Let me take you there. The Angel of Music is waiting for you! Prove your devotion and bring me another black rose! You will find what you need when you look for it in the cold. Come to me. I am waiting.”

No one except yourself and Christine had ever been down there and, for Christine, it had been a nightmare. For you, the House on the Lake was paradise, and you wished more than anything that you had seen it one last time before your death, though you never had the heart to return until now. You could still remember the glow of the wax candles, the sound of Erik's music filling the air as he sang, all of it mixing so wonderfully with the waves lapping on the shores and the boat in the lake. To you, it had been the most magical place in the world. For a time.

His lair by the lake is frozen over, everything covered in a thick shroud of frost, each individual snowflake creating an illusion of white lace with a unique pattern. Everything in the room itself is encapsulated by ice, even Erik’s beloved organ and monkey music box. Candles that had once made the underground cave glow with warm yellow light are permanently gray, wet, and snuffed out. You come across a pair of wooden mannequins hanging from the ceiling, dressed in wedding outfits. They appear to be in a lover’s embrace. Erik has created a mannequin in his likeness! But is the bride meant to be you? What sort of nightmarish puppet show is this? Why would the Opera Ghost hold you in an eternal wedding waltz like this? You don’t know what compelled him to put so much effort into this disturbing and intimate display, but it makes your stomach churn. Erik has written a riddle on the wall in what you hope is red ink: “When the girl fell, his world shattered."

Something needs to fall. Perhaps those figurines of you and your former maestro? When the mannequins fall into a heap on the ground, the wall collapses, revealing a hidden passageway to a secret room deep within Erik’s lair. Inside is a crypt holding only a single black coffin that’s sealed shut. There’s an inscription in the stone of his grave. It reads, “Here Lies the Angel of Music”. Is this where Erik is buried? Could it be that Erik had set fire to the Opera House while he sealed himself alive in this very tomb of his own making?

“I had reached the depths of my despair - it was all over. The shadow of my death drew near. You were the light in the darkness of my existence. I was your Angel of Music! But you left me. I couldn’t save you. All was lost. The time had come to end it! My house would burn but my spirit would not rest. One day, God willing, I would have you again!”

Upon opening the crypt, there it is - your priceless violin, clutched by Erik until his final breath. Beside his skeletal remains are the music boxes containing your music sheets and his “Don Juan Triumphant” encased in a red folder tied with black ribbon. Erik couldn’t be buried in the cemetery with you, no matter how much he may have wished it. He couldn’t be laid to rest beside you in such a public place where anyone could dig him up, but he was desperate to hold onto the only thing remaining of you. After your accidental drowning, he stole your music sheets so your final compositions would be buried together alongside him. Erik’s final lament is written on his music scores of “Don Juan Triumphant”, presumably in his own blood based on the reddish-brown tint to the ink:

“What have I done!? Forgive me, my love. I didn’t mean to...”

You don’t want to leave your violin and compositions here to rot away underground with Erik for all eternity, so you make a trade. Holding the final black rose, you kiss its soft petals before laying it in Erik’s grave. You place the blossom in his corpse’s hands so that he may still hold onto something of you eternally while you take back your violin and music. What manner of sorrow could rob a rose of its very color? Accepting your gift, Erik bids you a soft and heartfelt farewell before he dissipates into thin air. Whether he ascends into Heaven or descends into Hell, he will welcome his fate. You showed him mercy and granted him forgiveness. You freed him from his self-inflicted Purgatory, even if he didn’t deserve it. Whatever awaits him on the other side, he’s very grateful to you for helping him move on.

You turn over your violin and music sheets to the person you do care about: Meg. Knowing that you’re going to leave soon, she fulfills your final wish and musters up her strength to dance to your beautiful music while her husband accompanies her on your violin for the whole world to hear, in what will be her last ballet variation. After her performance is over and she takes her final bows, you’re finally freed from the shackles that kept you bound to the mortal plane. You feel the invisible force that had been weighing you down for many years finally lift, and you feel lighter. You can move on. Your weary soul can rest.

As the stage lights shine down and nearly blind her from their brightness, Meg vaguely sees you blow her a kiss and wave goodbye before you fade away into the warm yellow light. No. It isn’t a goodbye, but rather a see you soon. Wherever you are, Meg hopes you’re happy and that you’ll be waiting for her to join you when it’s her time. She hopes you’ll be there to escort her to the afterlife. She’d love to hold your hand and walk with you once more, like you used to when you were young girls. It won’t be long now, Meg can feel it. She has dealt with ghosts before in her life, both real and man-made. She’s not afraid. She’s ready.

It was a sad day in Paris when Meg’s husband and cousin laid her to rest. Her cousin was all set to go home, knowing they had helped Meg with her last wish, when they felt a chill down their spine. Like they were being watched. They knew that feeling well - another ghost, another mystery. Who else was haunting Meg’s manor? Could it be…?