you review plays for a living. you go to different theatres, watch plays, and then write reviews on them. and you’re brutal. you’re mean with your reviews, and have made several of the best play writes and directors cry with your words.

tonight you’re reviewing a play at a theatre in paris, known for its rumours of having an ‘opera ghost.’ you think it’s bullshit, of course, but you must admit it does add to the atmosphere. now what you’re not aware of is the phantom very much is real, he lives in the catacombs of the theatre, away from everyone else. he’s the true director of all of the plays performed in his theatre. and he’s read some of your reviews. while most would headcanon this phantom as a strong, cold, dominant man, they couldn’t be further from the truth. he’s submissive, and if you so much as think of writing a mean word about his play tonight, he’ll wail, and sob, and probably make the theatre collapse.

you walk into the theatre and are ushered to your seat, sitting down and getting out your notebook. you don’t just review the plays. you review the theatres as well, and the treatment from staff, everything.