The Phantom of the Opera – Behind the Genius
Inspired by Setine's "Seto Kaiba – Behind the Genius," which was inspired by Wicked Enough's "Ruruoni Kenshin – Tales of a Sexy Swordsman".
And for Setine; I hope she doesn't mind, but I'm Too Sexy is the best song ever. Although I have no idea if she's a phantom fan.
Entry one.
Hold everything! Routine secret passage inspection reveals the buxom Mlle Daae humming in her boudoir. Thank you, Mme Giry's bleeding heart. I feel tingly all over, like I just punjabbed someone - but without the unpleasant problem of disposing of the body.
Entry two.
I wonder if she knows I'm here.
Entry three.
I think on some level she must know. Probably because she can hear my heavy breathing from behind her mirror. Better say something, quick.
Entry four.
Uh-oh. Struck by sudden doubtfulness of my status as The Sex. It's okay. Be cool, Erik.
Christine, I am your father.
Damn it. I said be cool!
Entry five.
"Angel? Are you there?"
Her nightgown slipped off her shoulder. You are a pure and untainted angel. Think unsexy thoughts think unsexy thoughts. Joseph Buquet in a bathing suit.
Yeah, that'll do it.
Entry six.
I could be a music tutor. Sure. A sexy, masked music tutor who infiltrates the lay-deez's bedrooms. Oh yeah.
Entry seven.
Curious. Christine seems to orgasm when I sing to her. Come to me Strange Angel, indeed.
Entry eight.
Carlotta thinks she is The Sex. I dropped scenery on her. Now try to be the sex with a limp, Signora. Yeah, I thought so. Crutches aren't as sexy as a mask.
Nothing is as sexy as a mask. I'm too sexy for my mask…
Entry nine.
They cast Christine. Mon dieu. I'd better actually see if she can sing. This could be embarrassing. So much for my grand plans of the Underground Undergraduate Opera Programme.
NO! I will not let go of my dream of sexy college girls in desperate need of my tutelage! Those nights where the stress of studying gives way to pillow fights! Skinny dipping in the dark underground lake!
She will sing.
Entry ten.
Damn, that girl can sing. I'm better than I thought I was. And no one needs to know that I got tangled up in my cape earlier, in the excitement.
Entry eleven.
What the hell? Le patron – making a move on my woman? Get your own insecure sixteen year old to lie to, you caviar-eating, thoroughbred-breeding nancy-boy!
Ah, I don't have anything to worry about. When was the last time HE made a girl swoon by singing at her? Yeah, I thought so. When was the last time he made a girl swoon at all?
Ballerinas don't count. They swoon at their own shadows. They swoon at mine a lot. Even my shadow is the sex.
Maybe I can distract Raoul with a ballerina.
Either that or drop something on him.
Entry twelve.
Too sexy for my mask…
Entry thirteen.
I wonder if I remembered to put out the candle in my bedroom before I came upstairs.
Entry fourteen.
Well, what's the worst that could happen? I'd burn down the Opera Populaire?
Actually, that'd be pretty funny. Better file that idea away for later.
Entry fifteen.
If I'd known he'd take this long, I would have brought some cards to play solitaire behind this thing. One way mirror. I can't even admire myself to pass the time.
Entry sixteen.
Joseph Buquet in a bathing suit.
…Wtf? Stupid brain.
Entry seventeen.
Aren't any floors for me to sweep, not in my castle on a –
"Angel? Is that you?"
Uh. Think fast, Erik.
Insolent boy, this knave of fashion, basking in your glory!
Good work.
Entry eighteen.
"Enter at last, Master!"
Kinky. I knew she wanted me.
Entry nineteen.
Uh oh. She still thinks I was sent by her father. Time to break out the 80s guitar rifts.
Entry twenty.
That didn't seem to impress her. Now… What would Dracula do?
Entry twenty-one.
Geez, it was only a hickey. It's not like I actually tried to drain her blood. No need to kick me in the shins - now I'm limping. Stupid karma.
Better put her on the horse and get out of here.
And I don't smell funny. It's the cellars! It's dank in here.
And there are a lot of rats.
Entry twenty-two.
Rats aren't so bad, anyway. They don't taste so bad au vin. Admittedly, it takes a lot of vin.
Maybe I should have just tried to get Mlle Daae drunk instead of pretending to be her dead father.
Raoul probably would have. That's why I'm the genius, and Raoul isn't.
Of course, Carlotta's poodle is more of a genius than Raoul.
Entry twenty-three.
Children of the night – what beautiful music we make!
Wait, didn't Dracula say something like that? Stupid Dracula! Stealing my ideas before I have them! There ought to be a law against that.
Maybe Christine has never heard of him. It seems to be working, anyway. She's got that rapturous expression on her face again.
Now to show her my stamp collection and model collections.
Entry twenty-four.
Fuxxor. I tried to tell her that I only used the dummy for getting dresses made and practising my making out skillz, but she still fainted.
Better not undress her while she sleeps.
Well, maybe I'll just take off her stockings. To make sure she's, you know… Comfortable.
Oh. Now that's a mighty fine ankle.
Erik needs a cold dip in the lake.