#tpoto

[0peraghostt]

i need friends in the phandom :(

reblog this if you wanna be friends hehehe

[melit0n]

Something that always confused me when I read TPOTO was why The Phantom chose box five out of all the private boxes to be his.

Out of all the seats in the house, box five is among the worst and would be (and still is) sold cheaply (average 65 francs at cheapest in 1880, now sold a between 10-25 euros nowadays) on general sale. A higher profit would've been made from a year-long booking, especially since there are multiple seats, so it would be 65 francs per person on a yearly booking no matter how many people are in there at once, but still not as much as other seats.

Visual wise, a good chunk of the left side of the stage is cut off and parts of the performance that would occur in the higher wings would be completely unseen, so, why choose it? Isn't the main point of going to go watch an Opera is to actually see the performance?

(A screenshot from the Palais Garnier's seat listing stating the best seats for viewing and the view from the box five via this video)

Having been there myself in late May, I found an answer to my own question and I'm gonna share it with you guys because maybe someone else was asking the same thing!

Although yes, the stage is half cut off, it's one of, if not the, best seats acoustic wise. You're a perfect distance from the orchestra as well as the stage for everything to sound just right. As much as The Phantom would've loved the operatic performance, I don't doubt he would've been more focused on the music itself as well as the vocals, and, mainly, Christine.

Further, although going to the opera was more of a social thing than an entertainment thing, so the boxes were built for aristocracy to be seen above all things, you can disappear from public view quite easily in that box. There are two to three rows of seats going backwards to the door, so all one would have to do to disappear from sight of anyone on stage or in the audience would be to just move a seat backwards (which means he wouldn't have been able to see the stage at all, but would still be able to hear everything perfectly well).

Plus, the box is located right at the end of the row of private boxes, as well as very close to entry and exit stairs, both public ones and private ones meant for stage hands and general workers.

All in all, those three reasons are why the box was chosen and kept in high priority for The Phantom, because he could quite literally disappear, like a ghost, by just moving himself in the box, as well as disappear out of the box and hear Christine almost perfectly.

[royalavera]

Wislow is the prankster of the Phantoms.

Amazing idea commissioned by @sepulchredsacrament on IG

Commissions closed

[batcherub]

oh fuck raoul de chagny & the opera ghost are practicing kissing what do we do???

rerik art, YAY! (this won’t be the last)

[jaeausten]

Fear can turn to love. You’ll learn to see the man behind the monster. This repulsive carcass which seems a beast, but secretly yearns for heaven, secretly, secretly, secretly. Oh Christine.

[achildsfirstsorrow]

The Mandarin Robe

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Reassurance- Erik Destler x reader

word count- 1036 erik need reassurance, please give it to him

The cold air of the opera house sent a shiver down my spine as I wandered through its dimly lit corridors. The echoes of distant footsteps haunted the silence, blending with the faint notes of a melody that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. The melody was his, unmistakable and enchanting. I knew I shouldn't be here, but something—no, someone—pulled me deeper into the labyrinth.

"Erik?" My voice was barely a whisper, almost afraid to disturb the music. But I knew he would hear me. He always did.

The melody faltered for a moment, a sign that he was aware of my presence. I took a deep breath and continued down the narrow passage, feeling the walls close in around me, their coldness a stark contrast to the warmth that filled my chest at the thought of him.

It wasn't long before I reached the hidden entrance to his lair. The massive mirror that served as the gateway slid open with a soft, almost mournful creak, revealing the flickering glow of candlelight beyond. I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest as I stepped over the threshold.

There he was, seated at his grand organ, his back turned to me. The sight of him, cloaked in his usual black attire, sent a rush of emotions through me—fear, curiosity, and something else I couldn't quite name.

"You're here," his voice, low and velvety, cut through the air, sending a thrill down my spine. He didn't turn to face me, but I could sense his awareness of every move I made.

"I had to see you," I admitted, my voice trembling despite my efforts to stay calm. "I couldn’t stay away."

Finally, Erik turned his head slightly, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of the mask that covered his disfigured face. The rest of him remained shrouded in shadow, a dark silhouette against the dim light of the candles.

"You shouldn't be here," he murmured, but there was no anger in his tone, only a deep sadness that tugged at my heart. "It's dangerous for you."

"Dangerous?" I repeated, taking a cautious step closer. "You wouldn't hurt me, Erik. I know you wouldn't."

He let out a soft, bitter laugh, one that seemed to echo off the very walls of the cavernous room. "You think you know me, but you don't. Not really."

I moved closer, drawn to him despite the warnings my mind tried to scream at me. "I know enough," I said quietly, my eyes searching for his in the dim light. "I know you're not the monster everyone thinks you are."

Erik's shoulders tensed at my words, his hands still resting on the keys of the organ. For a moment, he remained silent, the tension in the air thick and palpable. Then, with a heavy sigh, he stood up and turned to face me fully.

The sight of his masked face, the hint of the scarred skin beneath, should have frightened me, but it didn’t. Instead, I felt an overwhelming sense of compassion, of understanding. I stepped closer until I was standing right in front of him, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.

"You're not a monster, Erik," I repeated, my voice firm despite the tremor in my hands. I reached up, hesitating for only a moment before gently touching the edge of his mask.

His hand shot up to grasp my wrist, not forcefully, but with enough strength to stop me. "Don't," he warned, his voice strained. "You don't want to see what's underneath."

"Maybe I do," I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest. "Maybe I want to see all of you."

For a long moment, we stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills. Then, slowly, Erik released my wrist, his hand dropping to his side. He said nothing as I carefully, almost reverently, lifted the mask away from his face.

The sight that greeted me was heartbreaking, but not for the reasons most would think. Yes, his face was scarred, twisted by some cruel twist of fate, but it wasn’t the sight that made my heart ache—it was the pain in his eyes, the loneliness that seemed to emanate from him in waves.

"You're beautiful," I said softly, meaning every word. I saw the disbelief in his eyes, the way his expression faltered as if he couldn't quite process what I'd said.

"Beautiful?" he echoed, his voice thick with emotion. "How can you say that?"

"Because it's true," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper as I gently cupped his face in my hands. "You're more than just your appearance, Erik. You're talented, intelligent, and… so lonely."

The vulnerability in his eyes was almost too much to bear, but I held his gaze, willing him to see the truth in my words. "You don't have to be alone anymore," I continued, my voice steady. "Not if you don't want to be."

For a moment, I thought he might push me away, retreat back into the darkness that had been his refuge for so long. But then, slowly, he leaned into my touch, his eyes closing as if savoring the warmth of my hands against his skin.

"I don’t deserve this," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I don't deserve you."

"You deserve so much more than you think," I said, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "Let me in, Erik...et me be the one to show you that you're not alone."

He opened his eyes then, and the raw emotion I saw there took my breath away. "You'd stay?" he asked, almost as if he couldn't believe it.

"Yes," I answered without hesitation. "I'll stay."

Erik's hand came up to cover mine, his touch hesitant and unsure, but there was a gentleness there that made my heart swell with affection. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my forehead in a gesture that was both tender and desperate.

"Thank you," he whispered against my skin, his voice filled with a mixture of hope and fear. "Thank you for seeing me."

As I stood there, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, I knew I had made the right choice. In the darkness of the opera house, I had found something—someone—who was worth all the risk in the world. And I wasn't going to let him go.

[elvenforestwitch]

[high-quality-tiktoks]

This is probably what plays in Christine’s mind during the climax of Love Never Dies💀

[ashidaii]

leave box five empty or else

[batherik]

I'm still not really drawing properly these days, but I mentioned a vampire AU in one of fish's saturday streams where Christine is the vampire, not Erik, and I've wanted to doodle at least something since

[moonagedaydreamsofrhiannon]

[melit0n]

Anytime I see people who say 'Erik should have gotten Christine!' I always let out such a loud sigh because they are completely missing the point of the book.

The tradgedy is not, and never has been, the fact that The Phantom didn't get Christine, it's the fact that he never got to be human.

Erik, as a character, is so insanely full of love and yearning and that is exactly what leads people to sympathise with him; to lead them to the point of 'if he got the girl everything would be fine'. He's poetic with his suffering and expresses his truama in a obsessive and borderline psychopathic way in order to deal with it and get what he wants. To have what he never had; real affection. To be kissed without his masked chucked at his face.

To be looked at with fondness instead of fear.

Leroux's whole point with the character of The Phantom isn't that he's another man who deserved the girl, his point was how real life literature Others are treated. Erik is both The Hunchback of Notre Dame's Quasimodo and Jane Eyre's Bertha Mason. Both, of which, despite the fact they don't conform to societal standards, still deserve to be treated as humans.

Erik deserves to be treated like a human despite his deformity, despite his otherness that has literally forced him into the basement of an Opera House he helped build; to be loved like any human wants love. Everybody in that book demonises him for such a human feeling and that is the point. That is the metaphorical kick to the chest.

Further, rounding back around to the 'if he got the girl everything would be fine'. If Erik got Christine, he wouldn't learn that the fact he murdered multiple people to get there, that he threatened to blow up half of Paris, that he tricked a young girl into believing he was her dead father, was wrong. If he got what he wanted, with no consequences, then it wouldn't teach Erik anything, because he would never learn what real affection would be like.

That's why, at the end of the book, where Christine shows him genuine love, willingly, he absolutely crumbles because he realises that is what it means to be human. To feel human; pure love given of someone's own accord.

To love is to be changed, as the poets' say, and that's exactly what it does to him.

[royalavera]

Come to me, angel, we're going to McDonalds

Thanks to Abby for the reference

[batcherub]

do you guys recognise the quote? .. anyway young erik stuff!!

reflecting on the past in a much more positive light this time ,,,

[secretly-a-catamount]

I’m sorry, but if you think that Raoul wouldn’t switch places with Christine to be bait for the Phantom if he could, you’re just objectively wrong (it’s okay, I still love you).