The Original Problematic Fave: Erik, Ze Phantom Of Ze Opera

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

         I have been half in love with easeful Death,

Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

         To take into the air my quiet breath;

                Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

         To cease upon the midnight with no pain,

                While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad

                        In such an ecstasy!

         Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—

                   To thy high requiem become a sod.

-Ode to a Nightingale, John Keats

One great scene in Phantom of the Opera is in the torture chamber when Raoul and the Daroga hear Erik menacing Christine and first it sounds like she’s crying

- but it’s not her, it’s Erik full-on sobbing while he’s threatening her, and if that doesn’t describe his character perfectly what will

Whoa

Edna St. Vincent Millay, from a diary entry featured in Rapture & Melancholy; The Diaries of Edna St. Vincent Millay

I noticed this the other day and it made me sad.

At the end of All I Ask Of You, Christine says she must go and is about to leave when Raoul sings "Christine, I love you" and she turns back and goes to him, they end up leaving the scene together all happy and in love.

Phantom tried to do that at the end of Final Lair, his "Christine, I love you" is an attempt at making Christine stay the same way he saw Raoul do in the rooftop :(

I had to go back.

Favorite.

-The Monk by the Sea-

Me defending my favourite fictional character: he's not even that bad (meanwhile he has a literal torture chamber in his house and drops chandelier on people)

Can we talk about ‘The Siren of The Opera’?

Plus, a doodle sketch of Erik and Daroga when they’re both in Persia…i think🥺because i luv my ghostly magician Erik

[…] for when one has fire within and a soul, one cannot keep bottling them up – better to burn than to burst […]

Vincent van Gogh, from ‘The Letters of Vincent van Gogh’ ⁠— Wilhelmina van Gogh c. summer or autumn 1887, tr. Arnold Pomerans

The angels wept tonight.

"Tonight, I gave you my soul, and I am dead."

"...your soul is a beautiful thing, child. No emperor ever received so fair a gift."