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@badoperafanfiction
THIS IS SO WHOLESOME
Fanability of La Bohème
I have wondered many times why La Bohème is such a famous opera and so highly recommended to those who are new to the art form. I enjoyed it just fine, but it’s hardly in my top ten - it’s probably in my top five least favorite operas. However, there is something I learned long ago from fanfiction: if a work is going to be popular, then the quality of the work is almost exactly as important as the fan-quality of the work. I can think of so many decidedly mediocre movies, comics, and television shows that have gained extreme popularity online not because of their fantastic content, but because they were extremely easy to expand upon in art. Even otherwise good works are practically elevated to the level of scripture in the eyes of dedicated fans, because they cease to love merely the work itself and fall in love with a complex fan-developed extrapolation of it. Sometimes, the object of fan obsession bears no resemblance to the work itself at all (see the Undertale multiverse). I believe that this is the case for many historically important works of literature, as well. Some stories just nudge their ways into the social consciousness. La Bohème, in particular, is a familiar blend of strong characters (there is a lot of extrapolation to be done about every single member of the main cast based on their interactions), dramatic plot (who in fandom doesn’t react to falling in love and then having their heart broken), and a variety of moods (each of the four acts could practically be its own one-act story). There are holes to fill in, relationships to consider, and, of course, that romanticization of freedom and art that makes the viewer just wish that life was just as picturesque as in the fiction. Honestly, I find it a little silly and self-obsessed, but I’ve also written an undefinable number of chapters of fanfiction on this work that I “don’t like very much,” based on extrapolations that are perfectly reasonable given the libretto.I can explain every single character decision I made, to the point where I spent some time actively searching for evidence that some of those decisions might have been canonical. (ahem. Schaunard shows a remarkable lack of female love interest for a charming man in a romantic opera.) Said fanfiction is also, ostensibly, about Lucia di Lammermoor, but that’s because when I saw the Met Opera’s Anna Netrebko rendition, I and all of my friends instantaneously agreed that this was definitely about vampires. No denying it. Vampires. What’s more fanfiction-inducing than a vampire AU?
Captives:
Chapter(x), with 5<x<7
Work: Lucia di Lammermoor/La Boheme crossover
Vampire!Ashtons, Fairy!Bucklaws.
Notes: Arturo and Lucia both survived their wedding night.
Main character: Marcello (for the most part)
Author notes: Whatever
I found this on my phone. Can't even remember which production it's from but. Here you go.
Tag urself
A Horn in the Ballroom: Chapter 1
Work: La Traviata, Siegfried
Author notes: I’m trying to write my absolute favorite tragic literary heroine in the form of a badly-written YA romance female protagonist. I feel dirty. :(
Character guide
Captives: Chapter 5
Work: Lucia di Lammermoor/La Boheme crossover
Vampire!Ashtons, Fairy!Bucklaws.
Notes: Arturo and Lucia both survived their wedding night.
Main character: Marcello
Author notes: The word of the day is Hopeful!
Character guide
Captives: Chapter.... 6??
Work: Lucia di Lammermoor/La Boheme crossover
Vampire!Ashtons, Fairy!Bucklaws.
Notes: Arturo and Lucia both survived their wedding night.
Main character: Marcello
Author notes: Whatever
Character guide
Captives: Chapter 3.7
Work: Lucia di Lammermoor/La Boheme crossover
Vampire!Ashtons, Fairy!Bucklaws.
Notes: Arturo and Lucia both survived their wedding night.
Main character: Marcello
Author notes: today is improbable anatomy day.
Character guide
Captives, Chapter 4
Work: Lucia di Lammermoor/La Boheme crossover
Vampire!Ashtons, Fairy!Bucklaws.
Notes: Arturo and Lucia both survived their wedding night.
Main character: Marcello
Author notes: written before chapter 3, and published before chapter 3.7
Character guide
Roommates, chapter 3
Work: Lucia di Lammermoor/La Boheme crossover
Vampire!Ashtons, Fairy!Bucklaws.
Notes: Arturo and Lucia both survived their wedding night.
Main character: Marcello
Author note: It has come to my attention that I cannot possibly claim to be writing “bad fanfiction” with nary a metaphor in sight. I shall hitherto attempt to endure a minimum of one metaphor per paragraph.
Edit: I called this “Roommates, Chapter 3″ instead of “Captives, Chapter 3″ by accident. I can’t decide whether or not to fix this.
Character guide
Captives, Chapter 2.5ish
Work: Lucia di Lammermoor/La Boheme crossover
Vampire!Ashtons, Fairy!Bucklaws.
Notes: Arturo and Lucia both survived their wedding night.
Main character: Marcello
Character guide
Captives: chapter 2
Work: Lucia di Lammermoor/La Boheme crossover
Vampire!Ashtons, Fairy!Bucklaws.
Notes: Arturo and Lucia both survived their wedding night.
Main character: Marcello
Premise: the four roommates offend Lord Ashton while he’s in Paris, and then he kidnaps them for some reason, I dunno
CW: Vampire dude totally beats people up in this.
Blood in the fountain
Work: Lucia di Lammermoor
Premise: Lucia’s death, from Lucia’s perspective
Lucia had always been drawn to the fountain, far from the gaze of men and ripe with the memory of blood in the water; the fountain sang in a voice that she couldn’t quite hear, . It was not the fragility of her body that killed her, but the voices of madness that kept her soul pulling, pulling from that fragile mortal coil to chase after them. Edgardo was everywhere, in her marriage bed, in the faces around her, staring staring staring, calling her back to him while she reached out her hand to touch him. Enrico chased behind him, voice loud and demanding, face wild with anger. She wanted Edgardo, wanted to live, for the two were the same thing. She cried and cried and cried out, until finally, quietly, she fled towards the singing at the fountain and the peace she found there.
Life was a dream, no more, no less. It passed by like a specter, paper leaves on stage-set trees, all color lost. Once she had slipped out of her skin like a silkie her ghost danced fast as light past the gazers, the mourners, the nurses and the staff. It followed the moon out the window, the rain through the air, the shadows in the forest as though they were garden footpaths. Only when she reached the fountain did she come to rest.
At last, she saw something real, the only real thing she had seen since Edgardo had been banished from the wedding feast: a girl, not ghostly pale but lily-white and rosy-lipped, like a girl from a story.
The girl smiled at her. “You came,” she said, in a voice that Lucia had never quite heard before.
“I ran,” Lucia said. “My love has left me, scorned me. He cursed me for my betrayal.”
“Mine did as well,” the girl said, a girl no older than Lucia.
“I came here because we used to meet here. This is where love blossoms.”
“And falls away,” the girl said. “You came, but he always kept you away from me.”
“He said such sweet things to me, brought such light to my life...”
“Don’t you see?“ The girl touched her hand to Lucia’s lips, and Lucia came out of her reverie. “Where is he now?”
“He...” Memories of life were fading, more rapidly than she could quite catch them. “I don’t remember.”
The girl smiled and took her hands, like a best friend or a sister might. “If he were here, what would you do?”
Lucia gave a playful smile, delighted to suddenly have a co-conspirator. “Why- why, I would take his arm.”
“Like this?” the girl asked, slipping her hand into the crook of Lucia’s elbow. Lucia laughed, and straightened her spine like a man.
“Yes. And we would walk together around the yard- like this.”
“How romantic,” the girl sighed. “Does a man really have such sense of the romantic?”
“We would stop by the fountain, and sit on its stoops, on the rock where the specter was killed.”
The girl seemed to catch a breath for the first time since her death as they sat, close together, on the rocks. Lucia held her in her arms with a firm grip, a man’s grip, and stretched her head up above the specter’s as Edgardo’s might have been above her own.
“And then?” the girl asked.
“Then he would kiss me. Like this.”
Then Lucia kissed the girl as a woman would; she was gentle, and soft, and infinitely sweet, eyes closed so as not to see a lady blush and hands gentle so as not to hurt a lady beloved’s skin.
And the beloved, like a lady, leaned into her touch. They were the only real things in the world at that moment.
“And then,” asked the girl when at last they parted and the silence of sweetness had passed, “what would he do?”
“Why, he would take me to the chapel, of course,” Lucia said.
“I do hear that is the place for happy souls.”
“If only more souls were happy, then the chapels would surely be packed with them.”
In the distance, the heavy iron bell began to toll.
“I think they are calling us to church,” the girl said.
“I do think that they are,” Lucia said. “Will Ravenswood and Ashton come to the ceremony?”
“The ceremony cannot continue without them, my lady.”
"We have no choice, then,” Lucia replied, taking her lady’s hand in her own.
You dare to cross my threshold?
Work: Lucia Di Lammermoor
Premise: Vampire!Ashton family, Hunter!Ravenswood
Edgardo Ravenswood was where he expected him to be, alone in the dark of his parlor; even from outside, Lord Ashton could smell the reek of his despair. Ashton didn’t knock, didn’t bother with butlers or maids, as he slipped through the deep gloom of the house and to his stairs.
The brooding of suicidal self-loathing was banished from Ravenswood’s face at the sight of an Ashton in his home.
“You dare to cross my threshold?” he spat, full of disbelief, even astonishment.
“You entered my home unwelcome, did you not?”
Ravenswood had to smirk at that, and turned away. The despair seemed to creep back as he realized his fatal mistake. “What are you doing here? Your house is celebrating as we speak.”
“Even now, Arturo is taking my sister to their marriage bed.” Another twist of rage. Inwardly, Ashton smiled at the ease with which he could bring pain to his old enemy. “I couldn’t bear the festivities.”
He stepped forward, unimpeded by Ravenswood, who didn’t even look up. Ashton slid his hand silently along the fading velvet of Ravenswood’s chair, and leaned in close to Ravenswood’s ear.
“I came for you.”
Ravenswood scoffed. He was admirably unconcerned at the teeth so close to his throat, but Ashton was an honorable man. Ravenswood was not just some hired man, contracted for feeding, nor was he a common criminal fit for an execution. Ashton didn’t want to kill Ravenswood. He wanted to destroy him.
“What use have you for me, Enrico? Your family has taken everything from me.” Ravenswood stood, spun, met eyes with Ashton - a dangerous move. “My father, my family line, my good name, my bride - you even denied me a just death. You wouldn’t kill me then, what use have you for me now?”
“I wouldn’t kill you then, at my sister’s wedding, before the very eyes of the minister, Sir Ravenswood,” Ashton said, in the calm, even, icy tone he reserved for politics, as he stripped the glove from his hand. “But you - you humiliated me. You intruded on my house, on my sister’s wedding. And so I have come to do things as gentlemen.”
He threw the glove at Ashton’s feet, whose eyes lit up with a fierce delight. “We are agreed.” He pulled his own glove and tossed it, almost casually, to the floor. “With swords at dawn. I will destroy you, or the Ravenswood line will end.“
“In the graveyard. Let your body fall into your family’s tomb, save the undertakers the hassle. I will relish your death, Edgardo.” Ashton grabbed Ravenswood’s arm, who winced with pain but never pulled his eyes away or softened the fierceness of his scowl. “You are mine. MY prey. Anyone else who dares to kill you has me to answer to.”
“Your father orphaned me, your sister betrayed me, and you have insulted me at every turn, Enrico. I’ll enjoy shearing your head from your shoulders.”
Ashton smiled at him, flashed his sharp fangs, before pulling back. He grabbed his cape from the hook and stormed up the stairs. “At dawn, Ravenswood. Don’t be late.”