#like monsieur and the monster is a 1:1 au of beauty and the beast where obi-wan is belle and anakin is the beast

[tennessoui]

i don’t like hunger games au at all, and i avoid reading not completed fics generally but can i say. Can i say that your hunger games fic is the only think i’ve been capable of thinking for the last days and it’ s only the first chapter? the snippet of the dinner scene —"will you love me if i come back a monster?" / "i will always love you anakin"— made me lose my breathe jesus christ. this fic is everything i ever asked — unhinged lovers for each other, anakin being that younger version of vader who bite onto obiwan and never will let him go, obiwan too addicted to loving and be loved by anakin to standing the thought of losing him, codependency relationship based on needs and possessiveness and crazy addiction they will die if it’s not for this love? the "marriage vows who sealed the death of twenty three kids" line ? i can’t breathe you’re a genius

ahh thank you for giving my hunger games au a chance even though it is both a hunger games au and a wip!! i think having a lot written on tumblr really helps because it gives such a good outline of what the fic will become and what the story will be for both characters - putting it on ao3 is really just fleshing it out and making it sing as a written work

i think what i always struggle with when it comes to aus of other media is the instinct i have to make them 1:1 aus, which is what i call aus where i'm subbing my ship in for the characters of the media, i.e. putting anakin in for katniss and obi-wan in for peeta and pressing play.

at that point im like. why not just read the book if that's what i want to see, so that's something i like about this hunger games au because i'm just using the setting & the premise - anakin isn't meant to be a sub-in for katniss as the tribute and obi-wan isn't meant to be a sub in for peeta as the love interest or haymitch as the mentor and so i find writing it so much easier - i feel less constrained than i would if i was trying to make anakin feel like anakin skywalker from star wars, and also my own character for this fic and also katniss from this different media altogether

and yeah it's fun to make them fucked up and crazy about each other in new and different ways and so im so glad the first chapter has been posted and i can work on the second one now because damn that reaping is gonna be so fun

[incorrect-pokespe-quotes]

The Phantom of the Musical

I hope it’s not too late for me to enter this for the AU fanfic contest. This isn’t exactly a traditional AU - the story pretty much follows the plot of the musical Phantom of the Opera, and references most of the songs from it - but it is definitely an alternate universe, and includes a lot of worldbuilding to get all the characters to where they are. I currently have 12 chapters completed and am working on the 13th, so this is pretty much just a preview of the project & it may be edited by the time I start posting the whole story. Enjoy :)

Chapter 1 - Newbies

The stunning soprano sang boisterously to the nonexistent audience, throwing her arms into the air as if gathering their praises and drawing them into herself. Each of her steps was pompously placed on the stage, jostling her hair, which dangled above the thin white shawl that covered her shoulders. She held her head just above relaxed position, but not so high that she couldn’t look down on the empty seats that stretched out in front of her.

Behind her, the chorus girls – or, as she preferred to call them, the background dancers – mimicked her movement around the stage, but with more fluid and graceful motions. Their magenta and black dresses had been chosen specifically to compliment the soprano’s pink and white dress; she had tried to get the blonde girl to wear a wig so her own hair would stand out more, but the girl’s mother refused and got her way only because she managed the ballet chorus.

Per the script, the scene that they were rehearsing included a pair of Audino to dance with the soprano, but the Audino in question were being borrowed for the afternoon by the Pokémon Musical team for a special demonstration show. She liked it that way, since those two Pokémon weren’t hogging her stage.

Backstage, the head of the Musical Theater watched the practice. Her arms were folded and she had a pensive expression on her face. “What’s on your mind, White?” asked the ballet manager, who was watching the practice next to her.

White didn’t react immediately. The ballet manager had to repeat her name a few times before she finally registered the question. “Oh! Sorry,” she said with a sigh. “There’s a producer from the Sinnoh region visiting today who’s creating a documentary on alternatives to battling for Pokémon Trainers, so we’re doing a special demonstration Musical for him. As the creator and head of the Pokémon Musical I ought to be there to help. But this show has to be ready for tonight…”

“Your team is quite capable,” she reassured White.

“I know you’re right, Iris,” White replied. “But I can’t let this overbooking problem happen again.” She glanced behind her and saw two young men approaching them. “Perfect! Your timing is impeccable, gentlemen,” she told them. Then she headed onstage and waved to the maestro to stop the music.

“You’re doing fine, everyone,” she called. “But I have an announcement to make.”

The soprano’s arms fell. She seemed offended that anyone would dare interrupt her performance. The chorus girls, the maestro, the stagehands, and the tenor who had just come onstage all gathered around White, Iris, and the two young men that they didn’t recognize.

“As you know, for some time there have been rumors of my imminent retirement,” White began. “I can now tell you that these were all false. I am twenty-four years old and I have a long work life ahead of me. However, I don’t intend to work myself to death. Between the Pokémon Musical, Musical Shows, Pokéstar Studios and my BW Agency, I don’t get a moment’s rest and I still don’t have time to do everything I need to do. So,” she continued, gesturing to the two men beside her, “I’ve hired these two gentlemen to manage the Musical Shows from now on. Please, introduce yourselves.”

“Gladly!” exclaimed the bigger of the two men in a thick Kalosian accent. He looked a bit out of place in his baggy cargo pants and brown-and-white striped polo shirt. “My name is Tierno André. I have been a native of the Kalos region for 22 years, and been dancing for 17. Consider me your expert of song and dance!”

“I will be taking care of more of the business side of things,” the other man said, quite the opposite of his companion in terms of height, weight, and attire. His cream-colored suit framed his slight figure well and matched his wire-frame glasses, but didn’t quite match his bright orange bob of hair. “My name is Trevor Firmin. I am also from Kalos, and it is my pleasure to work with you all.”

“We would also like to introduce to you our new patron,” Tierno adds. “The Viscount of Chenonceau…here he is now!”

A young man in a navy-blue suit walked up from the wing, waving and flashing a beautiful white smile. His messy brown hair fell around his face in a handsome way, and his light-gray eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

“My parents and I are honored to support the arts,” the viscount said coolly, shaking White’s hand. “Especially those held in this world-renowned Musical Theater.”

The soprano strode up to him and offered out her hand. He shook it politely, and she mirrored his smile. “Viscount,” White said with a hint of reluctance, “Lady Yvonne Gābena. Our leading soprano for the last six seasons.”

This introduction was followed by a courteous but quick round of applause, and the tenor gave a polite cough. “Ah, and we mustn’t forget Leo Piangi,” White says, gesturing to the lanky young boy behind Yvonne. He looked slightly ridiculous because of his costume, which required a pair of green foam monster legs that made his movements sluggish and awkward.

“Good to meet you, sir,” the viscount nodded to him. “But I believe I’m keeping you from your rehearsal. I look forward to this evening’s performance.”

“Yes, yes, thank you, sir,” the maestro said briskly. “Now, Monsieur André, Monsieur Firmin, you’ll need to acquaint yourselves with the script. Yvonne, please keep your chin down when you sing. I can hear you choking your voice when you hold it that high. Leo, your footsteps are too loud. I don’t need to hear exactly when you run onstage.”

Yvonne folded her arms crossly, Leo nodded obediently and White left the stage with the viscount. The rest of the crew dispersed to their own jobs and the performers returned to their practice. Iris took the new managers upstage, where they could watch the chorus girls dance without interrupting their performance. “We’re quite proud of our ballet chorus, monsieur,” Iris informed them.

“I can see why,” Tierno replied. “You train them all, signora?”

“Skip the formalities, if you please,” Iris said. “A simple ‘Mrs. Giry’ will suffice. I am the ballet manager, so naturally I make sure all our chorus girls perform splendidly.”

“That little blonde angel is especially talented,” Tierno commented.

“My daughter, Yuki Giry.”

“And that exceptional beauty!” Trevor butted in, pointing to another chorus girl. Two long strands of her dark brown hair followed her as she moved; the rest of it was held up in buns on either side of her head. “No relation, I trust?”

“Whitley Daaé,” Iris identified her. “Very promising talent. Very promising.”

“Daaé?” Tierno echoed. “Any relation to the famous violinist from Fiore?”

“Her only child. Orphaned at twelve, when she came to live at the Theater and train in the ballet. She’s like a daughter to me.”

Iris brought the pair to the other side of the stage, where they watched the performers finish the routine. Once they were finished, the maestro, frowning, called to Yvonne. “Lady Gābena, you need to keep your steps light as well.”

Yvonne lifted a hand to her head in a dramatic flourish. “Chin down, arms up, feet light,” she moaned. “Will the maestro ever be satisfied?”

He exchanged glances with Iris and looked back at Yvonne. “I will be satisfied when you can get it right,” he replied.

“When I can get it right!?” she repeated shrilly. “I–” She broke off when she noticed White and the viscount returning and quickly spun around, storming off in a huff. “I will not put up with this – this harassment any longer!” she shrieked.

“My, she’s overreacting a bit,” Trevor commented. “Miss White, calm her down, will you?”

“Ah, but isn’t that your job now?” White said, feigning surprise. She handed him the copy of the script that she had gone to get, then smirked and added in a fake Kalosian accent, “Good luck, messieurs. You will need it.”

The new show heads were taken aback by White’s response. She gestured towards the opposite side of the stage, where Yvonne was arguing with a blonde stagehand. Trevor and Tierno exchanged glances and quickly hurried over to her.

“Where is my precious Furfrou?” Yvonne demanded.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” the stagehand replied awkwardly. “Er, weren’t your assistants taking care of it?”

“Then fetch them!” Yvonne shouted. Trevor and Tierno stood awkwardly behind her. Finally, Trevor cleared his throat.

“Signora,” he said hesitantly. “Please, calm down. There is no need for all this.”

“There is complete need for all of this!” Yvonne cried. “I deserve respect, but these – these beasts give me none! I cannot spend another day working for these ghastly people!”

“Do not say that, Lady Gābena,” Tierno interjected. “We have only just arrived. Allow us some time to get settled in, to see what you can do, all right?”

Yvonne scowled, and they could tell that she wasn’t convinced. Suddenly, Trevor had an idea. “A song!” he exclaimed, flipping through the script. “Ah – the aria in Act III, perhaps? You should sing it for us, Lady Gābena.”

“Well,” Yvonne huffed. “I suppose I could manage one song. Reyer!” she snapped. “You know the song.”

The maestro sighed and began to conduct the orchestra. Yvonne began to sing the aria in a very operatic style, stretching every note and forcing the orchestra to play much slower than the recommended tempo for the song. He hated it, but he knew trying to correct her would just make her even more insufferable. She hardly listened to him in the first place.

Suddenly, screams from onstage caught his attention and he looked up from the music in time to watch one of the backdrops falling to the stage, just behind Yvonne. The maestro quickly stopped the musicians and made his way onstage as people clamored to check on Yvonne and speculated about what had just happened. “He’s here!” Yuki Giry’s voice rose above the others. “The Phantom of the Musical!” The viscount glanced at her in interest.

“Bianca!” Maestro Reyer called to the blonde stagehand, who had gone up to work in the rafters. “Bianca Buquet, what’s going on up there?”

“Please, Cheren, don’t look at me!” Bianca protested. “I wasn’t at that post…and there’s no one up here besides me,” she continued. “If there is, well…he must be a ghost!”

There was more murmuring from onstage. “Signora, these things do happen,” Trevor offered nervously, attempting to laugh it off.

“‘These things do happen,’ eh?” Yvonne repeated, chuckling softly. “You have been here five minutes, what do you know?” she hissed. “‘These things do happen’ all the time! For the past three years, these things do happen!” She spun around and pointed a finger at White, who was conversing quietly with Iris near the edge of the stage. “And did you stop them from happening? No!”

White was a little taken aback to be addressed so directly, but she said nothing – what could she say? Yvonne’s accusations were spot on. “And you…you are just as bad as her!” Yvonne screeched at Trevor. “Until you stop these things from happening, then…this thing,” she pointed to herself, “is not happening! Good day!”

She stormed off the stage, calling, “Xavier! Shauna! Bring me my Furfrou!”

White cleared her throat. “Well, gentlemen, I’m afraid there’s not much more I can do to assist you,” she said. “If you need me, I’ll be giving the viscount a little tour. Good luck, and, ah…please do mind my friend in the rafters.” With this cryptic message, she dragged the viscount off the stage.

Tierno looked quizzically at Cheren. “Mind her ‘friend in the rafters’?”

“Ah, I can answer that, monsieur,” Iris said, walking up between them. She offered them a letter. “I have a message for you from our resident phantom…the Opera Ghost.”

“Oh, good heavens, you’re all obsessed,” Trevor complained.

“He welcomes you to his Musical Theater–”

“His Musical Theater?” Tierno repeated scornfully.

“–and commands that you continue to leave Box 5 empty, for his use.” Iris smiled slyly. “He also reminds you that his salary is due.”

“His salary!”

“Well, Miss White used to give him 600,000 Pokédollars a month.”

“600,000 Pokédollars!?”

“Yes, that’s what I said,” Iris replied. “Of course, maybe you can afford more, with the viscount as your patron…”

“That’s preposterous!” Tierno spluttered. “Miss White hasn’t left the theater. If she wants to pay this ‘ghost’, then by all means let her continue to do it.”

“But he doesn’t bother with Pokémon Musicals,” Iris informed them. “The Phantom is only interested in Musical Shows.”

“Speaking of Musical Shows,” Cheren interrupted, “we must get back to practicing for the gala tonight.”

“Why bother?” Trevor snapped, snatching the letter from Iris’s hands. “Obviously, we will have to cancel the gala,” he said, ripping up the note, “because it appears we have lost our star!”

“You do realize what it will look like to the public if you cancel Miss White’s birthday gala, right?” Iris interjected. “They’ll see the new managers refusing to celebrate their predecessor. It won’t gain you any favor in the public eye.”

“Surely there must be an understudy for the role,” Tierno said hopefully, in contrast to his partner’s horrified look.

“Understudy?” Cheren echoed incredulously. “There is no understudy for Lady Gābena. She’d never allow it.”

Trevor groaned and rubbed his temples. “What do we do now, André?”

“Whitley Daaé could sing it, sir,” Iris offered. The chorus girl stared at her in surprise. “She has been taking lessons from a great teacher.”

“Who?” Tierno asked skeptically.

“I-I don’t know his name, sir,” Whitley stammered. But how does she know that?

“Let her sing for you, monsieur. She has been well taught,” Iris assured them.

“This is doing nothing for my nerves,” Trevor grumbled as Whitley timidly stepped up in front of them.

“From the beginning of the aria, please, miss,” Cheren called, stepping back to his music stand.

She began slowly, her voice trembling. “Think of me, th-think of me fondly when we’ve…said…”

Her voice trailed off into silence. She couldn’t do it. Not with so many people around, for something so important as the starring role of the show…

Think of me, think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye!

That’s right…he had practiced this part with her so many times that she knew it by heart. He had been encouraging her to do it for so long…she just had to imagine she was back there, practicing with him. All she needed to do was open her mouth and sing.

“Think of me, think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye! Remember me, once in a while. Please promise me you’ll try! When you’ll find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me!”

She never thought she’d do it, but here she was, Whitley Daaé, standing on the stage in the Musical Theater, singing for hundreds or maybe even thousands of people. It was just like he had said – it felt right.

“We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember, stop and think of me. Think of all the things we’ve shared and seen; don’t think about the way things might have been.” She had a wistful smile on her face as she sat back on the bench, looking up at the pair of Illumise and Volbeat that danced through the air. “Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned. Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind. Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we’ll never do. There will never be a day when I won’t think of you!”

The viscount watched her performance with muted awe from his personal viewing box. “Can it be? Can it really be Whitley?” he murmured to himself. Long ago, it seemed so long ago, how young and innocent they were. “She may not remember me, but I remember her.”

“Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade. They have their seasons, so do we. But please promise me that sometimes you will think of me!”

The end of Whitley’s song was met with thunderous applause, and she looked out at the audience with excitement sparkling in her eyes. For the first time since her mother’s death, she felt like she could be the performer she always encouraged her to be.