This.
the thing, why Erik and Christine is my ship and beyond that the dynamic that fascinated me the most is because their relationship is so toxic and so beautiful and so layered. it's like...i am the angel your dead father sent you, you are my angel of music, i am your father (figure), i am your teacher, you are my teacher, you're my muse, you're my victim, i am yours, you made me experience musical ecstasy, you too, you guided me out of my grief, i am grieving because of you, you're the normalcy i long for, you bring out the side in me i didn't even know i had, i've never been so happy, i've never been so frightened, i've never been so desperate, i want to die because of you, i want you to kill us both, he's just a man, he's every shadow, she's just a woman, she saved everyone, it's just a kiss, no, it means everything!
Erik and Christine are an abuser and his victim but they were also two lonely, broken people who found solace in each other, they are also musical geniuses inspiring each other to inhuman achievements in their art, they share are bond that even they can't really understand or anyone else.
I also love the weathered frenemy relationship he has with the Daroga and Raoul is also a perfectly nice young man who, in my opinion, is the most interesting when he's at his worst (jealous) and I love that everyone has fun with their non canon ships too. But Erik and Christine's dynamic will always be like crack to me personally. They're Death and the Maiden, Hades and Persephone, Mephisto and Faust/Margarete, the Rose and the Nightingale, Beauty and the Beast, they're opposites, they can't be together, they're day and night AND YET
ah! Fate links thee to me, forever and a day...
2024.5.8
The Exterior Artwork on The Opera House
The Dance by Carpeaux —&— Lyrical Drama by Perraud
leroux style
Thinking about Her again
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
A great loss to American Literature. Now he joins the greats.
R.I.P. Cormac McCarthy
The best of the best.
"Why, you love him! Your fear, your terror, all of that is just love and love of the most exquisite kind, the kind which people do not admit even to themselves." ... "The kind that gives you a thrill, when you think of it."
— The Phantom of the Opera, Gaston Leroux
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)
So many tender and painful, sweet and bitter, emotions crowd in my soul—yes, there are painful and bitter ones. You cannot dream how bitter it is for me when people don't understand me, when they mistake what I say, and see it in the wrong light.
Fyodor Dostoevsky, from a letter to Mikhail Dostoevsky, written c. October 1832
Writer. In love with The Phantom of the Opera and classic literature. Art, aesthetic, moode. Can’t live without Beauty.
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