One Snapshot of a Very Bad Phic
Christine, who was beautiful and perfect and yet somehow incredibly naïve, childish, and submissive, woke up one morning on a great silver swan-shaped bed in a puddle of red and black silk sheets (no matter how garish that would look in reality). She felt very weak, but that was only natural, considering that she'd been so very sick. (It was an illness of unknown origin, including some, if not all, of the following symptoms: high fever, delirium, cold sweats, chills, weakness, weight loss, and prolonged periods of unconsciousness. Be it noted that there is no mention of bedpans or incontinence, though the illness can last anywhere from days to weeks.) She was inexplicably dressed in a white (always white – if not red – just imagine the symbolism. It's so deep.) negligee, which exposed more than it covered. She wondered who had dressed her, though she wasn't terribly concerned about this person's choice of clothing or why this person happened to possess a negligee in her size – or why this person owned a swan bed and so forth.
Just as she was wondering this, she happened to hear strains of the most beautiful music she had ever heard in her life. The music went a long way towards answering her silent question – or would have done, if she hadn't fallen into a weird trance and wandered helplessly out the door into the lair. Yes, the lair. Following the sound of the pipe organ music, Christine made her way to the room (unspecified, but definitely within the house) where her masked genius sat, playing his pipe organ. Though the volume was close to bursting her eardrums, she remained in her trance.
An insertive A/N: An aside about pipe organs. They're effing huge. I mean massive. The smallest pipe organ I've ever seen was only – ONLY – about 14 feet high and about 12 feet wide. Also, they require a bellows to keep airflow moving. In modern times, this is generally done electrically, but in the late 1800s it would have been done by some poor shmo pumping on a big bellows contraption. Why do you think catholic churches had so many acolytes and altar boys? There is no blinking way you'd fit a whole pipe organ into a HOUSE. Especially a house inside the foundations of an opera house. Further, pipe organs are LOUD. No. Really. They're designed to be heard throughout a massive cathedral filled with stinky peasants. End of insertive A/N.
Erik sat at the pipe organ, playing his sorrows away. He had been caring for Christine throughout her illness. She had become ill with no warning signs at all, just as he was spiriting her away into his lair. Yup. Lair, again. Whether or not this spiriting was consensual may vary. There she was, all blushing rose one moment, and then the next she was sweating, screaming, and thrashing the next. Very inconvenient. Of course, it gave him the opportunity to undress her (because we all know that undressing and dressing an unconscious person is sooo easy – especially with no previous experience) and ogle her lithe young (sometimes as young as 14, which is positively CREEPIFIED, in my humble opinion.) body.
Christine sneaked up behind Erik, overawed by his music, and by her view of the exquisitely, perfectly, Adonis-like, tanned and rugged uncovered side of his face and his manly mannish man-body. Never mind that she was a baby-faced virgin freshly woken from a mysterious severe illness – this guy really got her lady-parts all naughty and tingly.
Naturally, Erik sensed her nearness. His lus…I mean…his love for her was so strong that he could tell whenever she entered a room. He began to sing (you know, like ya do, even though no other part of the preceding phic is written in the language or style he now begins to sing) sensually. His voice deepened the spell under which our young heroine was laboring.
insert song of your choice here, complete with aaalllll the lyrics, though the words may not in the least be appropriate to the scene, the characters, or the plot; the preferred song is generally Music of the Night, though any hokey love song will do
Christine was all atremble with fear (or she usually is, if this is an abduction phic) and felt highly averse to the man playing the organ – and yet, her attraction to him grew. Of course, despite her trance-like and fearful state, she was very curious. Just to move the plot along, her hand flashed (she must have been holding some gunpowder) and she removed his mask.
Well, that pissed Erik right off. He was very, very, very, very, very sensitive about his face. I mean, it was a little red and puffy here and there which was dreadfully embarrassing. Or it's possible that he was just embarrassed that he'd gone through the trouble of living in an underground lair (YES, a LAIR), and wearing a mask, and killing people, and so forth just because of a minor skin condition on one quarter of his face. Anyway, he was angry.
Though a moment before he'd been willing to drive white-hot spikes into his eyes for Christine and never previously showed a split second of temper, he suddenly became quite violent. In his blind rage, he roughly grabbed her by her teeny-tiny little fever-wasted arms and threw her across the room. To add insult to injury, he began creatively cursing her alliteratively. He may or may not have tossed some furniture, but we are relatively sure he smashed at least one mirror. We are positive he began to weep. (Weeping #1)
Christine watched his temper tantrum from the floor. She was a bit bruised from her impromptu flight, but otherwise unharmed. Naturally, because it's human nature to feel sorry for the ugly guy who just beat the crap out of you before cursing your eyes, she began to weep (Weeping #2) for Erik's pain. Poor, handsome, angry, angsty Erik! In a feeble attempt to allay his anger, she handed his mask back to him. She was not at all concerned that he might grab her and go for a second round of toss-the-soprano.
Erik took his mask, and realized that his Christine was crying. This wounded him deeply! He dried his eyes and put his arms around her, feeling her warm, womanly (or teenagerly) body and beginning to get a bit worked up. Again, in complete accordance with human nature, Christine continued her sobbing fit while pressing her face to his chest. She did not attempt to pull away and run to safety. No. She trusted her well-being to the crazy man who just lobbed her across the stone flagging of his lair. Yes! His LAIR!
Erik looked down at Christine. She was so beautiful and perfect and faultless and innocent and angelic and wonderful and delightful. Her chocolate hair beckoned him. He began to stroke it lovingly, but stopped when the thick, sticky, delicious brown stuff began to melt all over his fingers. She gazed up at him with her chocolate brown eyes. Erik began to feel a bit uneasy – which story was this: Hansel and Gretel or PoTO? With all the chocolate involved, he could no longer be sure.
Anyway, she was beautiful and she was his. Speaking of being his, he noticed that he was very turned on. choose your favorite romance novel euphemism Her clear blue skin and her porcelain eyes were so alluring! (Ever hear the saying, "Her eyes were like saucers?" Well, there ya have.)
Christine was gazing up at him lovingly. Of course she fell in love with him! Don't question it! Character and plot development take time, gawdammit, and we're trying to get to the sex as quickly as possible! Like I was saying, she gazed up at him lovingly. She stroked the pretty side of his face, and then she stroked the ugly side of his face. This is the way she shows that she loves him no matter how nearly-ugly a small part of him is. Standard, really.
All her stroking and loving gazing finally broke through his (hitherto un-established, but we'll say it's like that now – for S&G) tough veneer and he wept on her shoulder (Weeping #3) like a baby. As the tears dried up again, he noticed that she was kissing him. A lot. Really hard. In fact, she kissed him so hard that they both fell over. Erik fell backwards, but Christine was unfortunate enough to fall smack onto her face. When they finally sorted themselves out and stood up, her lips were swollen from their passionate kiss (or more likely from her collision with the stone floor)
The sight of her swollen lips enflamed his passion some more, so he scooped her up and carried her to the peculiar swan-bed with its red and black silk sheets. Because their lus…I mean…their love was so deep and their relationship so well-developed, they decided to have sex. They stripped each other insert unimaginative description here and gawked at each other's sexiness. Then, because every LAIR-living, mask wearing, social hermit has tons of sexual prowess, Erik thrust deeply into her womanly (or teenagerly) womanhood. (He always thrusts. Apparently, the deeper, the better.) As dictated by entirely unreasonable socially indoctrinated expectations of a woman's sexual response to penile penetration, Christine came instantly and very hard. Erik came a few thrusts later. After coming, Erik and Christine wept (Weepings #4and #5). Erik was weeping because Christine had condescended to make the nasty with such a loathsome gargoyle as himself. Christine was weeping for some unknown reason; possibly because she suddenly realized that they'd forgotten the sheepskin condom. Once everyone was done weeping, they cuddled and made small talk.
The next day, Erik fell ill with a fever and Christine nursed him through it. Then they got married and had a baby. They were wonderful parents and lived happily ever after.
End A/N: This phic contains many of the painfully overabused clichés and a few of the weather-beaten plot-paths used in some of the worst Victorian era phics I've read. It does NOT contain the very bad writing techniques or egregious spelling and grammar that are all-too-common. Nor does it address the issue of flat or style/time inappropriate dialogue (note the complete absence of dialogue), the shameless practice of review whoring, the dreadful self-insertive Sues, poorly conceived time-travel phics, or 'Phan Meets Phantom and Makes Everything Instantly A-ok' plotlines. No... those I am saving for future additions (or snapshots) to this very Parodying, very Spoofy contribution to ff-net. To give credit where it is due and to brazenly plug my Phanphic Pet Peeves forum: Many of the ideas used herein come from that particular forum.