#phanty thoughts

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I'll be back in a few days!

Hi guys! Just a quick note that I'll be away for a few days. I'm going on a little trip and won't be taking my lappy. I'll still have my phone, but I won't be able to answer any writing prompts or post more chapters til after the weekend. For those who have sent in prompts, I haven't forgotten them, they'll be up soon. :) Send me anything in the meantime and I'll get to it when i get back. 👍🏼 Your obedient servant... ...no... too much? Too much. :)

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Okay but I've been thinking about this a lot lately. Do you guys think that Erik had straight teeth??

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Ok, but If Erik and Raoul were fighting over me, I would put everyone else aside and just make them have a grammar-off. Like, boys... if one of you can use the correct their/they're/there, I'm yours. 👌🏼

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Listening to Final Lair before work

WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF!?

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Headcanon requests!

Hi friends! Give me some more headcanon requests. I need some Phanty time.

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Time is Short Chapter 2

Hi friends. Had a request for more of this, so here you go. Phantom belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Weber - The Phantom was wracked with sobs, sitting exactly where Christine had left him. He was still holding the ring she had returned to him, turning it over and over in his fingers. Why did she return it? She was being polite. She was returning what wasn't hers. But it wasn't yours either? She was rejecting your offer, of course. Why else would she return it? Maybe... No. No maybe. She left. She left you. She didn't want the ring. She didn't have to come back at all. She came back to end it. It's over. Now get up, you have to leave. Thoughts raced through his mind as he tried to make sense of what had happened; tried looking at it from different angles so as to find one that suited him but try as his brilliant mind might, he could not. He had lost. He had lost her. He had done the right thing. Better that he is suffering than her on his account. Part of him no longer cared what became of him; nothing mattered, but part of him still held some childish fear at the consequences of staying where he was. He was distraught and out of his mind with grief but eventually fear got the better of him. Standing up, he slipped the ring into his pocket. He walked towards the mantelpiece, roughly wiping his nose and tears with the sleeves of his shirt. Sniffing, he turned, picked up a heavy candelabrum and with all his strength swung it at one of the offending mirrors facing him. It had occurred to him that he would have to smash one of his mirrors to escape; it bore entrance to a hidden passage which led out of his current prison and most likely into another kind. If he smashed enough mirrors his pursuers might not suspect which was actually a doorway; effectively buying him time. He swung the candelabrum into a second mirror, sending shards of reflective glass to the floor. He smirked. To him, mirrors had always looked much better in pieces. He lifted a curtain revealing a third mirror and stared at it, allowing himself a few more moments of hope. He looked around at what had been his home for over a decade. This had been his prison as well as his sanctuary. This was where she knew to find him- if he left she truly would be lost to him. He stood there gripping the candelabrum; his freedom. His knuckles turning white from his vice- like grip. Maybe I should wait? There isn't time. If I leave it will truly be over. It was over the moment she kissed you. He looked down expectantly at the candelabrum almost beseeching this object to make the decision for him. He looked up at the mirror, his reflection confirming what he already knew. Finally he took a deep breath and swung at the final mirror; his doorway to a new life and undoubtedly a whole new set of problems. It did not break. It only shattered. He looked up at his failed attempt and scoffed. Of course. His reflection was more abstracted than usual due to the shattered glass and he knew he had made the right decision. Over. Just as he was about to take the final swing he heard something that shook him out of his self- destructive state. "Angel?" It cried. The sound floating over the lake to reach his ears. He turned around, his brow furrowed in confusion. Christine? You're imagining things. You have actually gone more insane than you already were. Was it her? Surely he was not that delirious. "Angel! Are you there? It's me! Please... If you are there, answer me!" It was Christine! There was no doubt about it! Why was she here? There was no time to waste! The mob would be there at any second and if anything were to happen to her on his account he would gladly let them finish him off; end his miserable life once and for all. "Christine!" He yelled, confused but immediately concerned for her safety. He swiftly dropped the candelabrum and rushed towards the source of the heavenly sound. She came into sight as he waded back through the knee deep water. It was true! It was her! "Christine!" He repeated, desperation in his voice. "What are you doing here?!" Finally he came into view Thank god. He's alright. "Angel! Thank god!" she yelled at him through the portcullis. She had tears in her eyes and as The Phantom got closer to her she realized that he did too. "Your'e alive!" she cried. Finally he reached her and in his desperation, forgot himself and held her hands through the gate. "What are you doing here?! It's not safe, Christine." She looked into his desperate blue eyes and saw a mixture of very human emotions; sadness, regret, hope... Up until recently she had not thought of him as a man; a human. She was so distracted by the presence of these foreign attributes that she had forgotten he had asked her a question. His eyes were repeating it over and over and searching her features for a response. Why? "I... I don't know. I had to see you." He stared at her, his gaze intensifying, searching her for answers once more; this time almost demanding them. She could feel the power of his gaze; it bore into her and she could not look away. "I don't know what I feel..." She managed. "I don't understand it yet... but I had to come." The Phantom felt a warm sensation inside of him that he had not experiences since she had first taken his hand that night months ago; her first journey down to his world. He had come to recognize this as hope. He smiled inwardly. They stared at one another for a moment which felt like an eternity. This was the first time they had stood in front of each other as people, just people. He seemed so human and yet he was able to hold her with his gaze. At this moment thoughts of Raoul and the outside world seemed so far away. She was back under his spell and as she stared into his eyes she realized that she didn't want to be anywhere else. His eyes held so much emotion but Christine was not given time to identify anything as he abruptly spoke, his voice low and purposeful. "We have to go, Christine."

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My Legacy

-Phanty Thoughts-

Actually, Erik’s thoughts.

So many memories haunt me, memories that reinforce a painful truth I have tried to endlessly to overcome. Though I have tried to shut them out, to cleanse my mind of such human, such earthly weakness I find that I cannot. I find that no matter what I do, how many skills I master or the number of things I accomplish, nothing matters. For I am me- I shall always be such that this world cannot accept… cannot love. Over the years I have tried to distract myself from these memories and that truth that haunts me. The morphine dulled the pain; as was it’s purpose, but it was only a temporary solution, a masking. Sometimes the memories that so haunted me would seep through the self-created delirium; sometimes I would find myself locked inside them, unable to surface… sinking… drowning.

The killings made it worse, with every murder I found myself drifting further and further away from myself, falling deeper into that never-ending abyss of self-loathing…Lost…

Underneath the facade that I have created for myself, I am but a man…

A boy.

A man who feels and thinks and yearns… and loves…

Is there a way to absolve myself of these years of sinning? Is there still hope for someone like me? Someone who was not born evil but is no more than a product of a world that has shown him nothing but cruelty and hate? Have I spiralled too far? … them, the world, those people; they have made me who I am; this angel, this demon, this man who, as much he denies the need for love, compassion and kindness, burns for them night and day.

Sometimes I can barely breathe for the weight on my chest is so great; the short sleeps that I am able to achieve are almost always interrupted by nightmares of what I have done or what has been done to me.  I wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air, reaching for something in the darkness that is not quite there; that never will be.

Each day this feeling of suffocation intensifies. My life has always felt as though it were building up to something catastrophic; gathering momentum like an avalanche, volcano or tidal wave. I cannot say when this disaster will reach absolution, all I can say is that I cannot live in this state very much longer; I fear that I won’t- I’ve never felt like I would be alive very long, it seems a sin having been born in the first place.

Perhaps I could have achieved something great, perhaps my talents were meant to be used towards something magnificent besides this embellished tomb I have created for myself; but at least there is this, something, something to show for myself, my legacy. Although for hundreds of years to come those who enter it will not know my name, who I am, or that I even existed; I will know. I hope those who experience it in 200 years time are impressed, and I hope that it is not demolished for it is all that remains of me, all that remains of the poor excuse for a man whom no one could love, no one could see. I’ve no doubt that in years to come I will be forgotten, the few who knew of me will die as will those who knew them, the story of the Opera Ghost; of Erik, will be all but lost; maybe nothing more than a ghost story or superstition. I suppose that is rather fitting…

I suppose that Christine Daae is my legacy also, I don’t doubt that I put her through a lot in the end but surely she will retain some of the knowledge she allowed me to share with her. Surely she will retain some of the affection she felt for me… if any at all. Surely she will not forget me so easily and when her children and grand children ask her where she learned it all, she will think fondly of me and tell them of her tutor. I have so many hopes for that perfect, perfect woman. I hope that I was of some help to her, I hope that she remembers me as her Angel of Music, as her tutor and not as I was in the end… I hope that above all else that she continues with her music, if nothing else that will be legacy enough.

It was foolish to think that I could make her love me, when I was so incomplete myself. Foolish to think that I could cover up so much pain, so much evil with something as perfect and as good, as pure as her.

I loved her more than I could bear it, and It seemed I loved her more than my weak heart could bear it also. Surely it was not accustomed to being so full, experiencing that much feeling; it could not bear the weight. No matter, a life with love is a complete life, isn’t it? Even if that love was not returned? I do not blame Christine for her actions, for her choices. What sort of angel would I be if I did? What sort of man would I be? I wish her more happiness that I know how to comprehend and can accept her choice because I knew that she would not find that with me. My love for Christine was surely the catalyst I was speaking of, the volcano erupted, the tidal wave crashed upon me and now the pain in my chest is constant.

I feel as though my weak heart is soon to give up; surely it is as tired as I am of this farcical life of mine. I feel as though I have tasted enough of this world and I am ready to leave it behind, I have tasted hate so strong that it drove me underground, tasted love so powerful that it has ended me. I am tired… just tired of that which I have spent years trying to overcome and I have nothing left. No love, no hate, no juvenile need for acceptance. I am ready. I find now that I am at my end, I have made peace with the world, made peace with this face of mine that predetermined the path I was to follow before I was ever able to open my eyes.

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2004 Raouly

But has anyone else noticed Patrick Wilson's ridiculous sideburns in the 2004 film??? Every time i watch it, i cant help but stare at them! They are totally backwards... Yes??? Yes, i think so too.