#another alternate canon fic idea

[yujeong]

Fic snippet #4: VegasPete

"Are you going to shoot me, Pete?" Vegas asks all of a sudden and the whole room freezes.  Is Vegas seriously taunting Pete right now?  Porsche has come to understand the hierarchy of the Theerapanyakul family pretty fucking well, but it still feels wrong in his head to challenge Pete, whose hand remains steady at the question. "Are you going to give me a reason to, Khun Vegas?" he asks, his expression darkening.  "I'm entertaining the thought," Vegas replies, a smile appearing on his face which widens as he utters the words.

I blame @coleslaww for this one, how dare you enable my brainrot.

[yaminerua]

Lister going on leave after Kochanski dumps him and fully just not planning on coming back to the ship at all, like just considering going AWOL and thinking he’ll just try to find some other way to get back to Earth that doesn’t involve being stuck on a ship of heartbreak…

and Rimmer, deeply suspicious and picking up on these intentions from Lister’s gloomy mood, gets himself shore leave approval too so that he can keep an eye on Lister and make sure he gets back on Red Dwarf when he’s supposed to.

Lister might drive him up the wall but he’s the only person on the entire ship that Rimmer ranks above and he’d rather deal with everything that comes with putting up with Lister than have to accept being the lowest rank on the ship again. Second-bottom is better than bottom, if only slightly.

Lister hates that Rimmer has done this and tries his best to shake him off but Rimmer sticks to him like glue, and has arranged their accommodation so he just rolls with it, dragging him round clubs and getting drunk and not giving a shit that Rimmer has already gone through several notebooks with all of the things he intends to report Lister for once they’re safely back on Red Dwarf.

Eventually Lister gets Rimmer to loosen up and have a few drinks, which turns into more than a few and before long Rimmer is completely unwound, slumped and moping into his latest empty glass about his own miserable track record in love.

and maybe it’s the drink... Maybe it’s just how utterly pathetic and small Rimmer looks all ruffled and and disheveled, his hair out of place, shirt untucked and his tie crooked and half-undone. Maybe it’s his own broken heart leaving him soft and sympathetic. But he wants to help him.

The night is young! It won’t do to have two sad lonely bastards sobbing into their beers. They’ll try to meet some girls, have some fun! Shake off the crushing weight of loneliness and heartache!

Or… they would… if they were a little less plastered. In the end it’s a fruitless endeavour and the night comes to a blurry end, with the only vaguely memorable moment being when a cat nearly sends Rimmer stumbling into a cluster of bins outside the hotel.

Come the morning and the day of their scheduled return to Red Dwarf, Rimmer wakes up in their hotel accommodation extremely hungover and, more frustratingly, alone and he bitterly assumes that the whole of the previous night has been some premeditated plan to get him as plastered as possible so that Lister could slip away unnoticed.

That is until he finds Lister sitting on the steps outside playing with the cat from the previous night, surprisingly chill and largely resigned to his fate. Which is a great relief for Rimmer, who will just be glad to get back onboard the ship and for this whole ordeal to be over.

Everything goes so well over the next couple of hours leading up to preparing to board. Everything is going exactly according to plan. Until it isn’t. Just when they are about to board the transfer vessel that will carry them back up to the Red Dwarf, looming in the sky above, Lister turns and scarpers. Because of course. Of course he would run when Rimmer’s guard is down, when they’re so very nearly done with this whole thing. Of course.

Maybe he should just leave him and accept that he’s back to being the lowest rank on the ship. Maybe he should report Lister’s plans to go AWOL and let their superiors track him down and drag him back to work. Maybe that way he can wipe his hands of this whole mess and not lose face. Maybe. Instead he chooses to turn and chase after him, only distantly aware of the little shuttle as it lifts off soon after without either of them on it.

Rimmer is furious, but convinced that it’s only an infuriating setback and that someone will notice their absence and send someone down to retrieve them. He just has to be patient and keep an eye on Lister so that he doesn’t lose him again. And keep note in yet another notebook of all reportable offences that he can have Lister punished for after the miserable time he’s put him through.

so when he finds himself watching in horror as the Red Dwarf leaves the planet’s orbit and disappears from view without them, carrying all his dreams and aspirations and prospects of advancement away with it, he has to reckon with the reality that now he is stuck stranded on a planet he doesn’t want to be on with the infuriating gimboid who got him into this mess in the first place and the stupid cat he seems to have decided to adopt. And he has to figure out what he smeg he’s going to do now.

[angelsdean]

plagued with too many fic ideas i'll never write (bc it takes me like 2.5 yrs to write a long fic RIP)

[the-booty-crusader]

I think I finally realized why I don’t like a lot of the Reverse Robins “Tim becomes the Red Hood and attacks Jason” storylines… because at least when Jason was Red Hood, he was also under the impression Tim was a rich snobby brat who had everything handed to him on a silver platter, including yet another extremely rich, loving family, regardless of how accurate those ideas were.

But when Tim’s Red Hood he’s really just punching down at a poor kid Bruce took in. Tim as Robin AT LEAST had his home to go back to, where he had all of his basic needs taken care of, while Jason would either end up back on the street or in the foster system.

So honestly, “Red Hood Tim” to me just comes across as a real spoiled brat. I want to see more original ideas on how he does things! (Like one where he hacked into Arkham and went out of his way to start killing rogues which?? jason get your ass in gear and do that in canon u wuss)

Anyways, alternative thoughts welcome!!

Also at some point I should continue working on a Reverse Robins fic where Tim got taken by the Court of Owls and experimented on & he stole Dickie from there too… we’ll see

[inbarfink]

So when I wrote down that Big Undertale Meta Post about how Sans probably doesn’t remember RESETs at all and why that’s cool - I got a lot of responses to the tune of ‘that’s probably canon but I’m still gonna enjoy Sans Remember fics because of the angst’. And, well... first I want to emphasize that those are very good and correct responses! Like ‘I acknowledge might or might not be in the text but I am also gonna explore alternative ideas Because I Enjoy Them’ is a Good Damn Position to have! Transformative Fandom is Transformative on purpose! Engage with the text and it’s various analyses but don’t let it chain your creativity or fun!

It’s just that… all of the people saying that they prefer Sans Remembering ‘for the Angst’ make me think that maybe folks are kinda ignoring the incredible angst potential of Sans NOT remembering.

My original post focused on how cool it is that Sans manages to be so on-top-of-things even though he doesn’t remember anything - but let’s not ignore the fact that this situation is also grim as shit.

Through some mysterious super-science or whatever, Sans has managed to discover that his timeline is being RESET and altered constantly (before the Player came along, Flowey had already managed to basically 100% the entire Underground) and he has no memory of what's going on and what exactly is being altered. 

He knows he might’ve gone through the same day over and over and over again thousand times but he’s simply not aware of it. It’s all the helplessness and lack of forward momentum of a classic timeloop and none of the benefits of memorizing occurrences or acquiring extra information. That’s exactly the thing that drove him into his depressive spiral.

That line always strikes me. It’s like… Sans suspects that without the meddling of capricious immortal time gods, he’d be a much happier and motivated person. But he doesn’t know for sure, because he can’t remember how he was in some distant ‘original timeline’. He is essentially fighting to avenge a version of himself that might not even be real.

Like, yes, it is very impressive and badass how well Sans trained himself to notice every tiny little hint that might indicate that a RESET happened - but it’s impressive because the deck is stacked so heavily against him. And it is very impressive and badass how Sans managed to turn his weaknesses into strengths during his Boss Battle - but it’s impressive because these are usually huge weaknesses. Trying to work to solve a timeloop that you can only infer is going on through context clues is quite a hopeless and desperate mission!

Another bit in the Sans fight that I often think about is his unique reaction if you kill him and then RESET to Fight him again.

With how skilled he is at reading expressions, Sans probably knows what that ‘weird expression’ means, he knows the Player killed him once before and is here to try again. And yet he still goes along with the same attack plan he has, the one he knows killed him in that previous timeline. Why? Because he doesn’t know where the flaw in his plan was exactly, he can’t even begin to guess. So he has no choice but to go along with the plan he knows did kill him, because that’s the only thing he has. 

You know, the thing about Sans, is that he always plays his cards very close to his chest. It’s very hard to tell what exactly he’s thinking. That’s probably why so many people do believe he remembers RESET. If any non-Flowey character remembered RESETs, only Sans would be remotely able to hide it so well. But for me? It makes me wonder how much of his Troll who Knows Too Much persona is a bit of an act as well. 

You know, Sans’ deduction requires some keen observational skills - does he ever second-guess his conclusions? Living on constant high-alert that something has been reversed or that someone knows something they shouldn’t requires fostering a lot of paranoia, and that can’t be healthy for him. Is he ever overcome with doubt on whatever something was really an indication of a timeline RESET or not? How does he feel when he realizes something horrible happened on a previous timeline (for example, his brother dying) but he doesn’t know about the context to feel sure that he can stop it from happening again? 

I also think about it in terms of his relationship to Papyrus in general. Sans tends to hide so many things from Papyrus, especially in timelines where the Player is particularly kill-happy...

In part it’s about his perception that Papyrus’ kindness and pacifism is born from naïveté and thus the only way to preserve it is to hide the cruelty and harshness of the world from him (Undyne also does that). But also, with the paranoia and helplessness Sans lives in every day - is it any wonder that he might believe that ignorance is bliss?

I do truly think it’s beautiful how fandom can experiment with cool non-canon ideas! There are probably so many great emotional angsty ideas tied up to Sans remembering RESETs! I just feel it’ll be a shame if people ignore just how dire and depressing Sans’ canon situation also is!

[navybrat817]

In His Hands

Pairing: Woodworker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky's new project is his favorite one yet for a very special reason. Word Count: Over 2k Warnings: Fluff, implied sexual content, pregnancy, slight feels (it's me), minor flashback, canon divergent, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @firefly-graphics Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. A/N: My first Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 2) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in Into the Woods AU and time jump from Valentine's Day Tradition, but can be read as a standalone.❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The buzz of the table saw echoed in the barn as Bucky carefully cut through the maple board, inspecting it to make sure it was even. He put a lot of thought and care into each project and design he created. Everything from cost to maintenance to longevity. His current project was especially close to his heart.

My favorite one yet.

After the fight, coming to grips with his trauma, everything, the city felt different. Bucky longed to have a simpler life. He unexpectedly found a bit of peace in the form of woodwork. Using his hands to build things, and not damage them, kept him busy and happy. But the thing that brought everything full circle was you.

His wife.

"Doll, I still can't believe you said yes."

"Who would say no to you, Jamie?"

He glanced at a photo of the two of you on the wall, still in disbelief that he got to wake up beside you every morning. He found it more and more difficult to get out of bed when he wanted to stay tangled up with you, but the bills wouldn't pay themselves and he had to work to get a paycheck. Lucky for him, his "office" was in the nearby barn. The yard was a decent size, too.

"Great place for a family one day, isn't it?"

"Just about perfect, doll."

Like Steve, he hadn't expected to love living a quiet life outside of the city, but he did. You made a beautiful home together and it wasn't that far of a drive if he wanted to visit. He wondered some days if he was living in a dream because things seemed too good to be true.

If so, he never wanted to wake up.

"Need you to be perfect," he said to himself as he cut another board.

He checked the design again, his eyes narrowed as he thought about how long it would take to finish. You gave him your seal of approval when he showed his idea and reminded him not to put too much pressure on himself. He had plenty of time to make it and other projects came first.

But he hadn't had a task as important as this one.

He removed his safety glasses when the sun shone through the window, giving the place a soothing glow and him a moment to pause and reflect. He made love to you that morning. There was no pain in his left shoulder. Steve planned to stop by this evening. It was just about a perfect day.

How is this my life?

"You know, I think that is going to be your best work yet."

Bucky turned his attention to where you stood in the doorway. He couldn't keep the smile off his face when he noticed you had one of his shirts on. You looked good in his clothes, always had. And seeing you enter a room still took his breath away. He didn't think he could love you more, but he did each day.

If I ever stop breathing from the sight of you, at least your face will be the last thing I see.

His gaze went to your stomach before he closed the distance between the two of you and placed his large hand on it. He hadn't built a crib, but he did his research to be sure he'd make the best and safest one possible. It would be something to hopefully pass on to future generations. Another tradition.

But first and foremost, it would belong to the baby.

Our baby.

"I'm just getting started, but I think you're right," Bucky said, sinking to his knees and kissing your belly. "Only the best for our little jellybean."

Most days he couldn't keep his hands off of you, but it got worse once he found out you were pregnant with his child. You were glowing, more than usual, and he was a moth drawn to the flame. Thankfully you didn't mind and let him indulge.

Your need matched his own.

He'd never forget the joy he felt when you told him you were pregnant. You often brought him snacks or lunch while he worked, but that day you brought him a small gift box, too. It wasn't his birthday or a special occasion, so he had no idea what it could possibly be. Inside were two positive pregnancy tests. He almost dropped them, too stunned to speak. His heart almost burst through his chest when he saw the happy tears in your eyes.

"We're having a baby, Bucky. You're going to be a dad!"

It took a minute to sink in. You were having his baby. He was going to be a dad. You were giving him a family. A life he had only dreamt of.

'I still have to see a doctor, but-"

His mouth came down on yours before you could finish what you had to say, his massive hands framing your face so he could deepen the kiss. He poured his love, passion, soul, everything into it. He took you right there on one of his empty work tables, his left hand on your stomach the entire time.

"I love you, doll. Love you both so much."

He brought you back to the house and made love to you all over again, taking his time to worship you. He didn't get any work done the rest of the day. It was worth it.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern filling his eyes when you yawned.

He always checked on you during his breaks to make sure you felt okay, even when you insisted that he didn't need to. Days like this when you visited the barn first, he still had to ask. Any discomfort or pains, he wanted to know and help however he could.

"Just fine," you assured him, tucking a few strands of hair that came loose from his ponytail behind his ear. Just like he couldn't stop touching you, you always found an excuse to run your fingers through his long, brown locks since he grew it back out. "A bit tired, but fine."

"You're not wearing your mama out, are you?" he asked your belly. He pressed his ear against it and felt a slight kick, as if he got an answer. "Good because she needs rest. She has enough to deal with taking care of me."

"We take care of each other," you said.

Bucky wanted to believe that. You had a good set-up in the city before the two of you decided to move and he worried you'd regret going with him. You reminded him that you were still going to work from home and it was a choice you made together.

Partners. Equals. Soulmates.

"Yes, we do," he said fondly, focusing on your stomach again. "But can you believe she had the nerve to ask if we should buy you a crib? Like she forgot I could make you one. Don't hold it against her, jellybean. Hormones and baby brain."

"Bucky!" you scolded before you laughed.

He chuckled as he kissed your stomach a second time. "I'm kidding. Kind of. I did have to drive all over town the other day to find the potato chips she wanted."

Bucky would drive to the ends of the earth to satisfy any craving you had.

"Hey. Our baby is the one asking for them and it was the only flavor that would provide any satisfaction," you defended yourself. "And I balanced it out with fruit, so everyone wins."

"Yes we do and I'm glad. I need you both nice and healthy," he said as he stood up.

"We're both fine. You know that," you smiled.

He hadn't missed a single appointment, wanting to be there every step of the way. Listening to his baby's heartbeat was like hearing his favorite song again for the first time. He actually waved at the screen when you had your sonogram. And he swore the baby waved back.

Bucky also bought a few books on babies and parenthood. While he knew some life lessons couldn't be learned from a book, he wanted to be prepared. You supported him in that and baby proofing the house in advance.

Your only request was that you didn't want to know what you were having, which he agreed to.

It would be a beautiful surprise for both of you.

"Need you both safe, too," he added.

"We are safe," you said, glancing around. "Our home is safe. You don't need to worry."

Bucky tried not to. Your home was secure and he kept a clean and safe shop in the barn, but he didn't want to take a risk by having you too close to any of the tools or get irritated by the dust. The only table he let you touch was the empty one where he made love to you. Maybe that was why it was still empty.

"I guess you're right," he said, brushing his lips against your forehead. "You know if we have a girl, I'm never letting her out of my sight."

"Oh, I know," you giggled, putting your hand on his wide chest. Feeling the wedding band through his shirt was one of his favorite things. "And if we have a boy, you'll teach him to be a gentleman. Though I imagine he'll probably be just like you."

"Hey, I am a gentleman, ma'am," he smiled.

"Mmm. You keep telling yourself that," you teased.

Bucky hoped they took after you. Kind, but fierce. Loving and fair. Whether he had a daddy's girl or a mini version of himself, he just wanted to have a special place in their heart.

"And you really don't mind that I'm making the crib, do you?"

"Of course, I don't," you said, frowning. He immediately kissed your lips to make it disappear. "Why?"

"Just making sure," he said, rubbing your belly. The source of comfort from such a small gesture amazed him. "I think I just feel better knowing our baby is truly in my hands."

It was silly, but Bucky thought if he made the crib that it would be like he was holding your child as he or she slept. That no matter what, they would be safe and cared for. Surrounded by familiarity and warmth.

Your baby deserved that and more.

"I think that's a beautiful thing," you assured him, placing a hand over his. "You work so hard for us and I know our baby will one day appreciate that you built them something with your heart and hands."

His hands, like the rest of him, were massive and strong. A man his size was meant to destroy, which he did in battle and worse. He also proved that he was meant to create. His size never intimidated you. In fact, you once said that one of many things that made him special was how deceptively gentle he could be.

That the only ruin he would bring you with his touch would make you whole again.

In my hands, you'll always be loved.

"I'll always work hard for my family," he promised.

He hadn't told you yet, but he planned to build a rocking chair for the nursery, too. He wanted it to be a surprise. He could already picture the two of you sitting in it with a soft blanket to keep you warm.

The image made his heart swell.

"And if I have my way, we'll have one more. Jellybean could use a companion."

"Now you sound just like Steve. Both of you wanting to keep your best girls knocked up," you smiled, sliding your hands up his muscular arms to his shoulders. "You think you'll convince me?"

"I don't think. I know," he smirked, kissing you before you could argue.

As excited as Bucky was for the next part in your journey together, he was also afraid. He knew he'd be a good father, but not a perfect one. He'd make mistakes and stumble along the way. He wouldn't always have the answer. What he did know was that he was going to give his child unconditional love and care.

Starting with the crib built with his heart and hands.

Bucky is going to be an amazing dad, right? And how about Steve? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[swamp-adder]

Like many fans I've always had issues with Holmes' retirement in canon... not just the separation from Watson but the fact that he always loved detective work so much and it's just hard for me to think of a non-depressing reason why he decided to retire so early in life, move away from everything he loves and focus all his time on some random new hobby that we've never heard about before. I mean even though he's a solitary guy I just have a hard time believing Holmes would actually want to move out to the middle of nowhere where he can't easily go and see concerts whenever he wants.

I know some fic writers try to make sense of it by positing that he had a transformative experience during the Hiatus where he learned how to relax and find true happiness and emotional fulfillment by living a peaceful life appreciating nature instead of doing morbid stuff like obsessing over murders and risking his life all the time, but I dunno... it's not exactly that I find this unbelievable and more that the idea of Sherlock Holmes as a zen nature lover who couldn't be truly happy until he quit being a detective just doesn't appeal to me very much lol.

So how about this alternative theory:

Holmes is sick of being famous and having people hassle him all the time for interviews/autographs/etc (THAT part I can definitely believe). Around 1903 he gets fed up and decides to leave Baker St and secretly move to another location in London, possibly even under the thin façade of an assumed name to keep the neighbors from asking too many questions. (Maybe Mrs. Hudson also retired from landladying around this time and that was part of the impetus for him to leave.) For a while he'll go back to being primarily a "consulting" detective, taking cases from a few Scotland Yard inspectors or government officials who can be trusted with his new address. He had previously banned Watson from publishing any more stories about him, precisely to avoid growing his fame even further; but now he says, "You can publish more stories, but only on the condition that you tell them I'm retired and not living in London anymore." Then Watson is like "How should I say you're spending your retirement?" and Holmes is like "IDK, keeping bees?" as like a random joke. Either that or Watson made up all the "peaceful life of a country beekeeper" stuff to twit Holmes because it's the complete opposite of what he actually enjoys.

Of course eventually people will start piecing together the truth, so Watson writes "The Lion's Mane" to further push the story (and/or as another joke, making it deliberately ridiculous to see if people will still buy it).

Eventually, sometime after the war, Holmes does retire for real; but he stays in London (maybe at still a third address, to shake off the people who managed to track him down last time). He spends his days doing chemical work and writing his book on detection and going out to concerts every night. Watson may or may not live with him, but in any case he's also still in London and they see each other all the time. The end.

[fixated-on-something]

So I had another thought about 3x05

So the mosaic timeline did happen- just in the past of timeline 40. Apparently. Because they can remember it, and the letter to Margo exists, right?

And when they read the letter, and see/smell/taste the peaches and plums, they remember. Not everything, but little parts.

It seems like the implication here is that- because it had already happened, with their consciousness, they could’ve hypothetically remembered those little parts at ANY TIME.

If something had triggered those memories beforehand, some way before reading the letter to Margo, maybe they would’ve been able to remember.

So I was like, omg, mini fic idea possibly, one of them accidentally triggers those memories before they ever meet. And I guess assumes that they’re like, dreams or something.

Until they meet the other. And then suddenly, everything is strange. And the whole fic is just them freaking out because they’re both remembering parts of a whole life they had together, convinced they’re going crazy, while subconsciously being drawn to each other and becoming friends and such

But other than that it follows canon. It’s an alternate universe, where all the events still happen, but that’s just an underlying tone.

Which would change stuff with Alice, with Mike, with, well, everything

So idk cool alternate canon ig

[percico-nicercy-events]

The ao3 collection for this event is [Percico and Nicercy Fest Week 2024]. There are 2 ways to add your works to this event. The first is the standard way of adding it to the collection using the name/tag: Percico_Nicercy_Fest_Week_2024. The second way is by claiming the prompt for that day on the link shared above, and then selecting that prompt when you go to post your work. This method is less known, so I'll be making another post with a screenshots and directions on how to do it.

This event is open for anyone to participate by making fics, fanart, moodboards and any type of fanwork you can think of!

When you post your work don't forget to tag us so we can share your work on our blog!

I think that's all the info needed for the event? But just in case I forget something, feel free to comment or send an ask with any questions or concerns. I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone comes up with!

Plain text below for accessibility:

Percico/Nicercy Fest Week 2024, August 18th - 24th, 2024.

Prompts:

Day 1: Percy Pining After Nico Day 2: Powerful Percy and/or Powerful Nico Day 3: Co-parenting Mrs. O’Leary Day 4: In Tartarus Together Day 5: Undersea Prince Percy and/or Underworld Prince Nico Day 6: Getting Together Years After HoO Day 7: Free Day

Alternate Prompts:

Alternate 1: AU – Canon Divergence Alternate 2: Hurt/Comfort Alternate 3: Angst with a Happy Ending Bonus: A short post about: 1. Why do you ship Percico/Nicercy today? 2. Why did you initially start shipping Percico/Nicercy? 3. Any other Percico/Nicercy headcanons or ideas you want to share!

Timeline:

January 20th, 2023: Prompts are posted on Tumblr and AO3. The AO3 collection opens. January 20th, 2023 – August 17th, 2024: Creation Period. August 18th, 2024: AO3 Collection works are revealed. August 18th – 24th, 2024: Posting Period. August 24th – 31st, 2024: Submit Event Feedback & Join the Hall of Fame. August 31st, 2024: AO3 Collection Closes. September 1st, 2024: Hall of Fame is posted.

Tag list, as requested in the survey:

@starphanton @wild-flowerhoney @awanderingmuse @avaetin @haiseiscute333 @ogjacksonsimp @doevademe @iridisentry @blueskyportrait @niquitonerdola @incompleteth0ts @percicosoftcore @x-bloodrain-x @memenems @rosabell14 @moa-broke-me @yippee-e @hermesmyplatonicbeloved

[httpsserene]

im back to request another x male reader hehe🤭a plot inspired by moth to a flame by the weeknd, what do ya think?

𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐰/𝐥𝐧𝟒 & 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: lando has many regrets, the most painful one being the fact that he encouraged you to date oscar.  📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: angst. beta read. emotional infidelity. implied future possible cheating? established relationship w/oscar piastri. unhappy ending. but also, open ending (sick n twisted). 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.3k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris & male!reader | oscar piastri x male!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: moth to a flame • the weeknd & swedish house mafia

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲:  i HATE writing cheat*ng fics, like the idea genuinely makes me sick to my stomach–i never understood why someone would cheat when they can literally just break up 😐, it pisses me off. it’s purely greedy behavior, manipulative, and disrespectful as fuck. but honestly an emotional affair would borderline break my heart more than a physical affair—like you love somebody else more than me??? and you’re not even having sex with them, you just have more emotional intimacy with them??? i fr would shatter into pieces—ANYWAYS: wikipedia was my source for the timeline, so if doesn’t canonically make sense…it is what it is :p sorry for hurting lando, i didn’t want to 😔i think this is my first true angst fic ever? enjoy, loves !!!

thank you to @biancathecool for beta-reading this fic for me !!

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lando wishes he never invited you to the silverstone grand prix in 2022. he knows you would’ve been insulted if he didn’t; you’ve been his best friend since the two of you were in diapers, and you’ve avidly supported him during each race. so, bringing you along to his home race was a given. however, after his meeting with the team post fp1, he caught you sneaking back into his driver’s room with heart-eyes, flushed cheeks, and a new number saved in your phone. it was the first time you met oscar piastri, who at the time was a reserve driver for alpine. when lando teased you for details, you downplayed the interaction, but you also asked him if it was fine if you got to know the australian rookie. he snorted, you didn’t need his permission to associate with other drivers. 

four months later at the the circuit of the americas, you told lando you were dating oscar. 

he’s thankful that you waited until after the race to tell him because he would’ve shunted into the barriers. lando’s heard of how people struggle to get over someone they’ve dated and fell in love with—but how does he recover from getting over someone he’s never allowed himself to fall in love with? 

lando feigned happiness for you, his shocked laughter passing for joy. he ushered you to sneak into oscar’s room to “make the most of the time you had together,” while he went out to celebrate max’s pole and his p6. the brit did congratulate his friend, and then for a man who claims to not like alcohol, he proceeded to get wasted. he was a mess, enough that he had to be escorted back to the hotel by daniel and carlos—as if being babysat by one of them wasn’t embarrassing enough. he broke down, sobbing into the spaniard’s shoulder about his missed chance, and was eventually soothed to sleep by daniel awkwardly rubbing his back. 

he knew it would be difficult to pretend that he wasn’t distraught at your new relationship. he’s had you to himself his whole life; and now he has to see you love another man. when oscar joined mclaren for the 2023 season, sure, he first-handedly witnessed how well the rookie driver treated you. good morning and good night texts aren’t forgotten even with ever changing time zones,  you’re spoiled with gifts, lando catches how oscar’s phone has three alternate home screens with photos of you, oscar’s car passenger seat is adjusted to you, he has a list of things you like written in his notes app, he has your coffee order memorized. you’re wearing oscar’s mclaren merch instead of his, you stay on the australian’s side of the garage and calm his nerves instead, you game with lando half as much as you usually did and go out on dates with oscar instead, the collection of stuff that you’ve forgotten in lando’s flat decreases and he spots your stuff in oscar’s flat when he came over to hangout with you two one day. you’re rarely in your own flat, lando has to call or text you to find out what you’re doing instead of just randomly appearing like he usually does, you practically live with oscar when he’s back home, and it becomes very clear to lando that he’s your best friend, not your boyfriend. something else becomes clear to lando. while you may be infatuated with oscar, you’re still his other half. 

your phone battery may die during several hour long facetime calls with oscar, but does he know that when you sleep in your own bed, that you call lando and plug in your phone so it charges while you fall asleep to the sound of his voice?

the passcode to your phone may be oscar’s birthday, but does he know that you have lando listed as your emergency contact?

you never order any seafood dishes on dates with oscar, but does he know that’s muscle memory from years of knowing lando gags at the smell?

oscar kisses the scar you have on the knuckles of your right hand, but does he know that’s from when you broke your hand punching a group of older boys who were bullying lando after he beat them in a kart race?

does he know that lando was your first kiss?

it all comes to a head in qatar. oscar won the sprint race, lando hasn’t won anything in the five years he’s been in formula one. you were late to the party the team is throwing for oscar because you were cradling lando as he sobs into your chest. max won the grand prix, and lando was the first loser to cross the finish line; as usual.

at two in the morning, there was a knock on his hotel room door. lando knew it was you from the cadence. you were dressed for bed, clothes wrinkled, voice deep and throaty from sleep, hair mussed to one side, and pillow lines were indented on your cheek. you asked him if he wanted to talk, that you noticed he was off this whole weekend. all lando could think about is the fact that you woke up in the middle of the night, slipped out of the bed you shared with oscar, and continued to wander to lando’s room half-asleep because you were worried about him. waiting until the morning didn’t cross your mind. lando’s heart ached—he shouldn’t be in love with you, he can’t be.

he let you in anyways, how was he supposed to turn you away? you were blinking at him with sleepy eyes, swollen cheeks, pouted lips—he’s only a man. you made yourself comfortable on top of his bed, and lando stared before he shrugged and laid down next to you; this is fine, this is a completely normal thing the two of you have been doing for years. just not while you have a boyfriend, or while he’s suddenly been accepting his feelings for you.

you didn’t say a word, and kept your eyes shut (you’re used to lando, he’ll speak when he wants to or he’ll be fine with your presence next to him while he sorts out his thoughts). you almost fell asleep before lando’s torrent of words startled you into awareness. 

he was tripping over his words, his brain moving faster than his mouth. self-deprecating and over critical views fell from his lips—the way they sounded clued you into everything you already knew. the brunet had been thinking this for a while, the phrases sounding too practiced to be sudden realizations. the remaining whisper of sleep was vaporized from your mind at lando’s harsh evaluation of the weekend and his entire career. 

you rushed to sit upright and bodily forced lando to turn and face you; your hands warmly blanketed the sides of his face and applied enough pressure for his words to become unintelligible before they tapered off. he knew that you were disagreeing with his monologue from the way your brows were furrowed and how your eyes were alight with anger. the air between you vibrated with the force of your speech, and lando knew you were probably ranting about the only reason he isn’t world champion is because of his car, not his self-perceived lack of skill. 

the sharp edge of your jawline was far more interesting to brit—the length of your fanned out eyelashes, the shape of your lips shifting as they formed syllables, the strength coiled beneath the skin of your hands, the broad spread of your chest—lando’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips distractedly and the sound of your voice returned to his ears.

“…you better understand me, okay?” is all that he caught. the senior mclaren driver (how weird), hummed half-heartedly in agreement. his stare tunneled to the part of your lips, and he knew his appreciation was discovered by the audible catch of breath in your throat.

it was like all the air was sucked out of the room, a perfect vacuum created. lando hesitated, before he redirected his gaze to meet yours, and he was sure what he saw was more catastrophic than anything he could’ve imagined. your eyes were locked on his lips, as well. the brunet can’t tell how much time passed by, the two of you were busy taking turns admiring the idea of a kiss. both of you continued to stare; eyes flickering across faces, tongues wetting lips, breath quickening in anticipation, and bodies leaning closer to each other steadily. when lando felt your exhales ghost faintly over his mouth, his eyes fluttered shut and he shivered slightly, a sense of satisfaction flooded his brain; you were going to kiss him—and then he heard you gasp.

lando’s eyes flew open to see you scrambling off the bed, a horrified look painted on your face as you stared at him. 

“this never happened,” you started, running an anxious, guilt-ridden hand through your hair, “and it will never happen again.”

it felt like his world was crashing down, he was frozen in shock. you moved to rush by him and leave the room, and he finally defrosted, and caught you by the arm.

you turned around furiously, tears gathering in your eyes as you forced your arm out of his grasp, a scathing, “let go of me,” leaving your mouth.

lando’s hands were shaking, mouth wobbling as he held back his own tears, and he rambled, “you're just going to forget what happened? were never going to talk about that? you’re not going to tell oscar?”

“NO!” you screamed, “no—i won’t tell oscar. and, i don’t have to tell him anything, because nothing actually happened. it was a mistake.”

he heard his heart shatter, and he couldn’t hold his tears back anymore. lando angrily brushed them away as they fell, knowing his face was embarrassingly red with anguish, and his insides burned at the look of pity and longing mixed in your gaze. 

“so, you’re just going to pretend that you don’t have feelings for me,” lando questioned disbelievingly, “like i don’t know you better than oscar ever could? you’re just going to forget this ever happened and run back to bed with oscar, and continue to have him believe that everything is fine?”

the air was still for a minute, your shared breaths the only audible noise in the room. 

“you’re only going to hurt him more if you act like everything’s okay,” lando whispered, “he doesn’t deserve that.”

your first tear of the night fell, your arms wrapped around your torso to hold yourself, trying to find any glimpse of protection and comfort you could. “oscar’s good to me…he treats me well, perfectly, even. he’s sweet, i really like him a lot.”

“you ‘like him a lot,’” lando repeated, staring into your eyes desperately, “but, you love me.”

the flame of rage and distress reignited in your eyes, “lando—i loved you for years. and, not once have i ever tried to make a move on you because i didn’t want to ruin our friendship. i didn’t even know you liked men until almost three fucking years ago! and, you still never gave me any sign that you were romantically interested in me. you had plenty of time and chances to date me, and you only realized that you wanted me when you lost me to oscar.”

“that’s not true,” lando murmured, “i’ve always been in love with you.”

lando watched the fury falter in your expression, and saw the conflict dance in your gaze. your stare softened, and you stepped forward to hold his face in your hands. 

“i can’t do this. not to oscar—he doesn’t deserve it. i can’t break up with him.” you said in a muted tone, “we shouldn’t be together.”

the brunet whimpered, eyes watering again. his large hands came up to hold yours against his cheeks, nuzzling into the warmth of your palm. you sighed brokenly, and leaned forward to press kiss on lando’s forehead. a muffled sob vibrated through lando’s chest, and you blinked rapidly to avoid crying again. your thumb swiped under lando’s eyes, brushing away his fresh tears, and you gently swept another kiss along his cheekbone.

lando cries messily when you pull away, and can only hold himself as you leave his room without glancing backwards at him. when the door shuts, lando falls to the ground, leaning back against the bed as he sobs into his hands. he understands what you said, but he can’t help but yearn for more. his chest aches painfully, and he doesn’t know if he can give you the time you need—the distance you need.  lando will pretend to be okay, he’s good at that. he’ll let you be for as long as he can manage, but he’s reassured at the knowledge that you’re in love with him. 

eventually, the two of you won’t be able to fight the pull of what you really need—you’re moths to each other's flames.

taglist: @saintslewis@cherry2stemss@lorarriri@inloveallthetime@mindless-rock@biancathecooll@barnestaticc @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

© httpsserene2023

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

There's something I don't see talked about enough in the SVSSS fandom.

The System.

I just received a comment on one of my fics - which has post-canon SQQ and SQH able to still use social media - suggesting that it would be very easy for people in the real world to point out that these characters using fake accounts to post on real life social media sites would easily be doxxed and the System would have no ability to do anything about that.

Something I have noticed among a lot of people who read this particular book is that not a lot of consideration is given to the very thing orchestrating everything. We often think of the system as a ridiculous guide or rule book that exists solely to give the protagonist what he wants/deserves. We don't really approach it for what it is.

This was my reply to that comment:

Doubt it. The System is able to kidnap people from their worlds and place them in other worlds and bodies in those worlds as punishment. And if you don't do as it wants, to the specification it doesn't directly detail, it can send your soul to an alternate version of the present world to be tortured in another body. I sincerely doubt an abstract, otherworldly being like that, which never receives consequences for anything it does because there is apparently nothing that can canonically challenge it, is going to be threatened by doxxing. If it can create things, link universes together, steal souls, and can be anywhere at any time, I wouldn't expect it to be incapable of manipulating people's perception. I even mentioned how in this fic, it WILL erase SQQ's sister's memories if he chooses to reveal his identity to her, but it becomes too much for her to handle. This suggests it has power anywhere and can do whatever it wants. So, in my mind, if someone actually tried to doxx their accounts, it's either going to lead nowhere, lead to somewhere fake, or the info will be stripped from their lives entirely the moment they find anything/nothing.

It was a very nitpicky kind of comment in my opinion, which warranted this response, but my response just made me realize that the System is effectively an amortal, omnipresent, and omnipotent Entity. It literally doesn't go away. We even think it's over and the Extras tell us, via SQH, that it's still there and still in control.

Think about it.

Think about every single thing that happened because of the System's actions or demands. It literally never faces consequences because there is nothing that could hope to punish it. I've only read 1 fic where higher beings step in to punish the System for kidnapping, coercing, and torturing innocent people for its amusement.

Because that IS something it can do. With ease. And seems all too happy to do.

The System is very dangerous and it's weird how this is something people forget when reading fanfics. SVSSS is the kind of book where crack ideas can work in the frame of the canon story because a character like SQH exists. Because he wrote PIDW with every single plothole and contrived story beat for the sake of money and survival, we can have the weirdest shit happen and blame it on his lack of imagination when writing PIDW. It doesn't need in-depth nitpicking to make it make sense. MXTX gave us a very large and generous sandbox to play in.

You don't need to rationalize a crack plot. And you should always keep in mind that canonically, the System is a terrifying Entity capable of outrageous things. It shouldn't be the deal-breaker that the Entity that kidnaps, gaslights, coerces, tortures, and manipulates people is capable of fantastical feats in a fanfic.

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

I. “the club within the club”

parts: next

plot: when you find yourself needing a topic for a journalism final, you seek out an interview from Gotham’s elusive vigilante: Batman. this proves even more difficult than it already sounds, and tensions rise when you discover an intimate secret—just as Bruce Wayne realizes his own.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+ MATURE! NSFW! canon-typical violence, slow burn, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, forced proximity, eventual smut, mutual pining, POV alternating, Bruce Wayne needs a hug, mental health issues (psychosis, suicidality), substance use, blackmail (or is it?), serious health issues, grief, brief mention of sa, gaslighting, mild gore

words: 2.1k

a/n: this is my first fic i’ve posted to tumblr and ao3, very excited to see how people like it ✨ same user on ao3 :) comments and reblogs are so appreciated! 💖

"I haven’t turned in the assignment yet, I'm so sorry," You fumbled with your book and it slipped forward on the desk. Your professor wasn't too happy with you; already a week late, this assignment was creating a piece of journalism about happenings around the city—the city was used loosely, because it was school policy not to require students be in the field for assignments. You never wanted to linger on what might have caused that rule to be enforced.

Dr. Vry was usually the picture of impatience, though she had a soft spot for you—she described you as a ‘journalistic prodigy’. You couldn’t see it, and it didn't help that you couldn't write your final piece when graduation was so near. While you’d done well in the intro courses, now that the material was more complex… you were struggling. She would say it was all in your head, and the only thing holding you back was lack of confidence in your burgeoning journalism skills, but you weren’t so sure. You had come from a sociology background but had interest in learning journalism with your last few credits, unaware how much grief this would cause you.

"Y/N, you're overthinking it.” She gently shook her head, her salt and pepper hair unmoving in the slick bun. “I'll extend it until the end of next week without point reduction. But after that it's out of my hands!" With that you thanked her, hurrying out of the class with your book tightly squeezed to your chest. Thank god, you thought. I can't fail out of a class in my last term.

That evening you holed up in your apartment per usual. You absentmindedly texted your one friend here, Margaret, but knew she was out clubbing. You’d met in a sociology course last year when you transferred. She had been the only one kind enough to show you around the city, the social butterfly she was; holding your hand as she dragged you from bar to bar, club to club. This led to a cat and mouse dynamic between you both: her always hopping to the next party albeit the occasional pit stop in your apartment and you, the reclusive homebody. You hadn’t always been so subdued, but you hadn’t always lived in the crime capital of the US.

You longed for more companionship, but focused on how you'd be leaving Gotham after graduation. The sting of loneliness here was too great, and it was no use stringing more people along. Mar had snuck her way into a crack in the first few months of your arrival. Back when you thought you might find something here. Back before you were proven wrong, and you’d given up on this godforsaken city.

Mar didn’t usually respond but tonight, she did.

Y/N, get your ass to the club! I miss you.

You chuckled a little to yourself at the idea of getting all ready to be sweaty in a room full of strangers. No thanks, have fun!

Within a second she had disliked your message and sent another: You'll find more inspo here than in your studio. I'm sending a taxi, be ready in 10

You groaned and threw the phone down. Ugh. You were tired from a long day of classes, and didn't want to pay to be humped by random clubgoers. Men in Gotham were nasty, taking every opportunity to try and get something from a woman. Plastered all across downtown were blistered posters with a faded number to report drink tampering. You should have expected as much with the city’s reputation, but coming from a small town you were naive. You picked up your phone and her text stared back at you. The day’s exhaustion had worn on your resolve, and the longer you looked at her text, the closer you were to giving in. More inspiration... she might be right. You looked around at your empty walls and the waning light outside, the sun rapidly giving way to a dark, rainy abyss.

Fine, only for an hour.

You reluctantly walked over to your closet to pick an outfit. This was gonna be a long night.

You found yourself standing out under your apartment patio, shivering in your dress. You chose something subtle: mini, dark, with some heels to match, though you admittedly didn’t have many options. You’d hurried and only put on lashes, lipgloss, and brow gel, because you thought your driver would be on time. Staring out at the flashing headlights threatened a migraine, so you whipped out your phone and went onto Scypher, a Gotham-area social media. You didn't bother going on very often, only on the rare occasion Mar dragged you out into the city. There was a handy 'Crime' tab, which had up-to-the-minute updates. It seemed pretty empty, only some car vandalisms the past hour. Hmm. You felt uneasy, the environment unusually calm for a Friday evening. Maybe it's a good thing. Wouldn't want to go out during a crime surge. You looked up as you heard a tire tempt the curb. Your driver called out your name, and you slunk into the backseat.

The drive was quick, with clubs practically on every corner. Mar hadn't told you which one, so you weren't prepared when the car pulled up to one of the most elite clubs in the city. Your face went pale, and your voice cracked as you failed making excuses to the driver. "I'm so sorry, my friend must have given you the wrong directions—"

"No, it's correct." He was stern, and when you started taking out cash to pay, he waved a dismissive hand toward you. "Your friend already paid, Miss." Flustered, and frankly confused he hadn’t sneakily accepted double payment, you thanked him and stepped out. The line wasn't too long, so you got behind a few people who were laughing hysterically. You noticed some green tinfoil out of their pocket: Drops. You forgot all the biggest dealers hung around here every night. What was Mar thinking bringing you here?

The line moved fast so you didn't have time to find an excuse to leave. You held out your ID to the burly, tall bouncer who gave you a once-over and a smirk. You stifled a groan, hating being looked at like a meal. Living in Gotham meant always feeling eyes on the back of your neck. The bouncer grinned and handed back your card, holding out another hand for the club fee. Shit. You fumbled in your bag and realized you didn't know the amount. Sheepishly, you looked over from your bag and scanned the wall behind him as quickly as possible. $50. Jesus. You managed to find three twenties crumpled at the bottom of your bag, and begrudgingly handed them over. He smiled and opened the door for you. "No change."

Well, guess I'm eating ramen this week.

Your ears began ringing the second you entered the booming club. People were packed in like sardines, and before you could even muster a thought you were grabbed fast from behind. You suppressed a scream.

"Y/N!!!" Mar wrapped you in a hug and you grabbed her to steady yourself. "Shit, Mar,"

"You look SO good! Fuck yeah!" She smiled and smacked your butt as she took your hand and led you towards the stairs. You hadn’t gotten much of a look, but her eyes looked bleary, red. "I met some guys that got us a lounge!" She was giggling but you pulled back, wincing. You'd already been sufficiently creeped on by the bouncer.

You rolled your eyes. "I thought this was a girl's night,"

She shook her head, grinning. "C'mon Y/N, get loose!" As she turned back to step up the stairs, a circle of green tinfoil fell from her pocket. You yanked your hand back, frustrated. No fuckin’ wonder. She was wasted. "MAR." You bent down to pick up the litter just as a man came up behind you, grinding against your ass. A bit of his drink spilled on your side, and you spun around to shove him back. Mar stepped up, always a willing wingman. "Hey, don't fuck with a woman like that, bitch!"

BAM BAM BAM BAM. Popping noises that sounded like gunshots rang out from the far corner of the bar. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You grabbed for the railing to head for the exit when people running from downstairs rammed into you. After a few seconds desperately straining your vision to look for Mar, you covered your head with your arms while you ducked. The gunshots inched closer and closer, egging on your heart rate, curdling your thoughts sour. I shouldn't have come. I don't want to die. I shouldn't be here. What the fuck am I doing here? I shouldn't have come. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'm going to fucking die.

You heard a rapid increase in gunfire and then a total ceasing. You wanted to look up, but it was too terrifying. Sweat beaded on your entire body as it became electrified with adrenaline—you had known how unsafe Gotham was, you just hadn't seen yourself in the crossfire… until now. You squeezed your eyes shut, pushing yourself hard against the side of the stair to try and make your body as small as possible. You wondered if everyone else had been killed, and they were looking for any survivors… The rough concrete texture burrowed itself into your arm as you jammed it even harder, forcing yourself to be compact. I could be dead with just one bullet.

Before more morbid thoughts could form, you yelped as you felt your body being lifted and slung over someone's shoulder. Something was hard and slick against your stomach, and you opened your eyes manically to see the world whizzing around you. The arm that held you was strong, so strong you couldn't slip out if you tried. You ducked your head as the person ran you both toward the back exit with total ease. Panic started to set in. It's so dark. Who is this? Is he gonna have his way with me?

As soon as you were brought an alley down, fully away from the chaos, you began fighting against the stranger. The streets were so dark you still could hardly see, but it felt like the person was armored. You’d heard some small grunts from them on the short sprint here, or maybe you’d imagined them? Regardless, you couldn’t place the voice while your ears were still bright with tinnitus. You shouted, trying with all your might to shove them off of you, to no avail. "Let me GO!"

"Stop fighting." A low, gravelly voice spoke right next to your ear. You continued struggling to the point you felt a bruise forming on your bottom ribs. It was as if the entire world had zoomed in, and nothing mattered more than escaping. You drew a quick breath, tensing your body to fight. This motherfucker isn't gonna let me go, is he?

Without warning he relinquished his grasp and you slid off the man, landing squarely in a puddle. You looked up and through the darkness saw a masked man clad in deepest black... the Batman.

"Thanks, uh," You immediately broke eye contact, feeling awkward. The tornado of panic in your chest relaxed ever so slightly. You felt bad for fighting so hard against him, but you hadn’t known any better. Before you could fully realize the gravity of what had just happened, how Vengeance himself was standing before you, he noticed something glint behind your ear.

"Turn around." The voice was low and gravelly still, and you spun around instantaneously. You'd heard good things about the Batman in your year and a half here. A few of your classmates had direct experience with him, having been saved on one occasion or another. "He never stuck around, he was always gone as quickly as he came." It seemed almost instinctual to trust him. And, his voice brooked no argument.

Suddenly the back of your head lit up in flaming pain.

"You need stitches." He stepped back and through the deadened night you saw a screen light up on his arm. "Victim with head wound on Feller and Kelley." You heard a faint 'Roger' before the screen went black. Fear shot through you the same time as relief. You were safe, but you had to get a needle snaked through your scalp. The thought made you physically ill.

To your surprise, he was already halfway down the alleyway when you looked back; just as he turned out of view, police lights illuminated the alleyway. Holy fuck, you'd just met the Batman.

And you hadn’t gotten a good look at him.

[captivousfest]

Captivous 2024 Masterlist View the AO3 collection here

Again! A HUGE thank you to all authors and artists for your work and participation and excitement! May Tom, Harry, and Voldemort continue to be captured, and captivate you!

Rated G

My Real Target... It's You by @evadne01 (HadrianPeverellBlack) Words: 627 Tags: Royal Prince Tom Riddle, Possessive Tom Riddle, Young Tom Riddle, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Obsessive Tom Riddle, Knight Harry Potter, POV Harry Potter, Good Harry Potter, Kidnapped Tom Riddle but not really, Kidnapped Harry Potter, Obsession, Kidnapping, Rescue Missions, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Hurt/Comfort Summary: Harry comes to rescue the lost prince Tom from the cursed tower of Lord Voldemort! (But little does he know that this was all a ploy to capture and cage the real jewel, Harry himself.)

Forgotten not Foresaken by @Laserswordtraining Words: 9,279 Tags: Death (Harry Potter), Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Obliviated Voldemort, Amnesia, horcrux reabsorption, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Old man Tom Riddle, Blind Harry Potter, Kidnapped Harry Potter, Happily Ever After Summary: Voldemort wakes, not having any memory or any idea who he is, and determined to figure it out, the only thing he finds familiar is the name Harry Potter. Knowing he has something to do with it, Voldemort kidnaps him, but it turns out Harry has lost something too.

The Dalmatian Captivation by @Laserswordtraining Words: 7,112 Tags: misc characters that have been made to play animals that assist :), Alternate Universe - 101 Dalmatians Fusion, woah thats a tag already??, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Fluff, dognapping, no puppies were harmed in the making of this fic, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, as in he's the fashionista Cruella De Vil, Musician Ron Weasley, rescue dog harry potter, 99 puppies and a bitch ain't one, If they're not a literal dog they are still wizards, no animagi here Summary: Dalmatian Harry and his owner/best mate Ron Weasley live a simple life, but Harry's got a plan for more when he sees another Dalmatian out the window with a lady who looks like Ron would agree she'd be worth leaving the flat for. But when Harry has a litter of puppies and Hermione's old boss gets wind of it, his beloved Tom bares his teeth knowing they need to be careful of him. This follows the plot of the original 1961 animated film, and includes a happy collection of wizarding characters as animals of all sorts that help Tom and Harry get all 99 puppies back to central London.

Art:

Death leaves him with you, master by @00queasy00 Words: 226 The soul of Lord Voldemort has been giving Death a hard time. It is time to look for another to watch over the relentless soul in its stead.

Restraint Not Included by @laserswordtraining Words: 37 Its Voldemort/Tom. In Android form. His coding is ""incorrect"" and they are trying to fix him or else they would be wasting millions of dollars. Its torture for Tom/Voldemort but to the humans its just noise (bc he is tech). Harry takes it home and keeps it/saves it because he is too empathetic. They were totally trying to fix him because he is a psychopath that is now obsessed with Harry.

Rated Teen

Kidnapping is a State of Mind by @apocalypsewallflower(dystopianRebel) Words: 1,586 Tags:Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mixed Eras, Alternate Universe – Tom Riddle in Golden Trio Era, Tom Riddle in Golden Trio Era, Mentioned Ominis Gaunt, Mentioned Remus Lupin, Sirius Black Raises Harry Potter, Unclarified Year, Unclarified Quidditch World Cup, Wool’s Orphanage, Kidnapping, joke, Kinda, They would’ve still done it though, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Found Family Summary: Harry Potter won’t let his best friend continue being alone any longer, no matter how many blood-related family members turn him away.

Yoink by @liquidluckandstuff Words: 2,763 Summary: Voldemort flying around the city because why not, maybe he's trying to clear is head. Only to spot Harry Potter and immediately just yoinks him off the sidewalk

Let's Never Wake Up (Stay with Me) by @blackseatwenty (SquibNation10) Words: 10,255 Tags: Based on the movie Inception Inception, Movie Inspired, Dreams, Trapped in a Dream, Fanart, This story grew without my consent, Harry and Tom are both teenagers, Time Travel bit, Harry has to save the world using dreams, Dumbledore's idea not mine, The Ministry of Magic is Incompetent (Harry Potter), Tom is Kidnapped Summary: Voldemort declared war on the Ministry at the exact moment a young Tom Riddle was found and kept in the Ministry of Magic. Unsure what to do, they put him in a magically induced sleep. How do they change their present without disrupting their future? They send Harry Potter to convince Tom to change his past- using his dream.

Art:

Only Sweet, Sugary Death by @laserswordtraining Inspired by the movie Jawbreaker, fem!Tom kidnaps fem!Harry for her birthday but it goes wrong

Rated Mature

a pound of flesh by @ictyn (hpwrbowdm)) Words: 8,907 Chapter 1/? Tags: Blood and Gore (It's bad), Major Character Injury, Injury Recovery, Necromancy, Slow Burn, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Body Horror, Alternate Universe - Goblet of Fire, Under the Influence of Horcruxes, Rituals, Chronic Pain, Captivity, burn injury, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Master of Death Harry Potter, Snake-Like Voldemort (Harry Potter), grave robbing, Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Grief/Mourning, Medical Experimentation, Keeping The Chosen One in a Jar in your Office, Bottom Storage, Whump, Minor Character Death Summary: One mistake causes irreparable damage. Harry Potter, Fourth Triwizard Champion, falls in the first task. He is injured past the point of survivability but for some reason he simply cannot die. Harry is taken to St. Mungo's where he's subjected to painful and humiliating experimental healing techniques. Robbed of his voice, he wishes for nothing but to be put out of his misery. Meanwhile, despite the sorry state of his fated enemy, Lord Voldemort wants Harry Potter for his resurrection ritual. Whatever power tethers the boy to life-Voldemort must possess it. Harry, helpless and trapped in his body, is entirely at the mercy of his nemesis. And Lord Voldemort, who never backs down from a challenge, becomes obsessed with solving the problem of Harry Potter once and for all. He will do the impossible-not destroy the boy, no, but remake him.

Rated Explicit (read those tags folks)

Catch Me (I know you can) by @blackseatwenty (SquibNation10) Words: 2,837 Tags: Kidnapping, Chasing, role play kink, Explicit Sex, Porn with Feelings, Spanking, Rope Bondage Summary: If Voldemort is after you, what can you do but run?

Fate's Coffin by @noxxytocin Words: 4,538 Chapters: 1/3 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, 10 years after the battle of hogwarts, Mystery, Not a Time Travel AU, Tension, Abduction, Fluff, Comfort, there's some hetero mention in the beginning but I promise this is a queer fic, Harry and Tom are gay, Harry is dramatic and whiny, Tom could care less, Sexuality Conflict, Hostage Situation, Power Dynamics, Manipulation, Magical Asphyxiation, there's porn eventually I promise, Feel the Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers Summary: Harry Potter’s life is finally smooth sailing—he’s dating Ginny, the wizarding world is rebuilding, and he’s a top Auror. But at the 10th-anniversary celebration, just as he’s about to give a heartfelt speech, the unexpected happens: Harry is snatched away and later finds himself in a place as grim as its master. Trapped and facing a fate more dreadful than he could imagine, Harry’s life is about to be turned entirely on its head.

Thin Skin by @iseliljathedreamer (Iselilja) Words: 6,428 Chapters: 2/5 Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Snake-Like Voldemort (Harry Potter), Body Horror, Explicit Sexual Content, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Secret Relationship, Post-Canon, Foot Fetish, not super weird I promise, This fic is mostly porn ngl porn and pain, Chronic Pain, Domestic, Porn With Plot Summary: Prompt: Harry wins AU and keeps Voldemort locked and hidden in his house in exchange for not destroying the horcrux in his scar. The war ended. Not with death and destruction. Not with treaties and parlays. Not with exhaustion or ceasefires. It ended with an agreement in the quiet darkness of the Chamber of Secrets, deep in the earth below the raging battle. A conditional surrender where the most powerful wizard alive signed his freedom away for 100 years to a boy of 17 armed with a basilisk tooth and a putrid, poisoned pool, in exchange for secrecy and eternal life. But that was years ago now. Harry thought he'd never get used to having Voldemort living in his house, but he did. Time is a miracle-worker beyond all human comprehension, and yet, there are wounds it is yet to heal. Quite literally.

And all the devils are here by @i-dream-of-libraries (evaleon70) Words: 6,550 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Forced Orgasm, Fucking Machines, Overstimulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Captive Voldemort, Voldemort in bondage, Non-Consensual Bondage, Mercy for One's Enemy, Horcrux Bond, ScarCrux | The Piece of Voldemort's Soul in Harry Potter's Scar, Sex Toys, Frottage, Really just an excuse to hook Voldemort up to a penis milking device, Felix Felicis | Liquid Luck Potion (Harry Potter), Snake-Like Voldemort (Harry Potter) Summary: Voldemort has finally pushed his Death Eaters too far with his bloodlust, and they find an unconventional way to fight against him. Harry witnesses what they're doing to the Dark Lord through the horcrux bond and should really just leave his old enemy to his fate… he doesn't.

Reset my patient violence (you know my desire) by @i-dream-of-libraries (evaleon70) Words: 13,326 Tags: Alternate Universe - Grishaverse Fusion, Porn With Plot, Smut, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dubious Consent, Dark Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Dream Sex, Shadows used as tentacles, Captive Harry, Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Delay, Come as Lube, First Time, Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Bondage, Biting, Somnophilia, Bottom Harry, Top Tom Riddle Summary: Prompt fill for Captivous fest: Grishaverse AU where Tom is The Darkling and Harry is The Sun Summoner. The Darkling has waited hundreds of years for his Sun Summoner, and he won't let him escape now. or How Tom will have Harry in any universe, to the possible ruin of all.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // TEN

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: You and Lee spend some time in Ba Sing Se, where you meet a familiar girl. Afterwards, you tell Lee the story of Quynh and how she came to be.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: PLEASE DO NOT SLANDER ME FOR THE FATHER GLOWWORM REPRESENTATION I HAVE NOT READ THE KYOSHI NOVELS ‼️ idek what he’s up to in canon but his powers fit the situation so he got to feature in the fic…pretty sure he’s way more heinous in the atla-verse but oh well!!! glass princess father glowworm is just chill like that ig 😰

“Lee,” you said from where you sat on the kitchen counter, watching him scrub dishes. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he wore his signature scowl on his face, though every time you spoke, it abated in favor of something resembling a smile.

“Y/N,” he said. “Are we introducing one another or something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said. “Now that we are friends, I want to ask you a question.”

“We’re not friends,” he said, as was customary, taking a rag and using it to dry the mug he had just washed. “But go ahead.”

In the days since you had happened upon the refugee gate, you had not seen the Blue Spirit at all. Every night, you waited for him, and every night you returned to the palace disappointed. Eventually, you understood what he was saying by not arriving, and so you turned to the only other source of companionship you had been offered: Lee and Mushi from the tea shop.

Mushi had been delighted, but Lee had been more than a little annoyed at the prospect of having to spend everyday with you. This time, though, you did not relent. You followed him around the tea shop as he worked, chattering to him incessantly, and finally he grew resigned enough to your presence that he stopped complaining about it and began speaking with you somewhat normally.

For the most part, the two of you talked about books and tea and other, safer subjects. You were still trying to understand what you had seen the other day, and you had no idea what Lee’s opinions were on the matter, so until now, you had not even considered broaching any of the more sensitive topics.

“How did you end up in Ba Sing Se? I don’t mean why you came. I mean, how did you get in here?” you said.

The question was still unclear, but Lee did not ask for further explanation. He finished drying the mug and put it with the rest before taking a plate and running it under the water.

“We took a ferry,” he said. “We had to buy tickets and show our passports, of course, but it went relatively seamlessly otherwise. By the way, if you’re just going to sit there, you might as well be useful and sweep or something.”

“What about the entrance fee?” you said, sliding off the counter and taking the broom he handed you, leaning on the handle and batting your eyelashes at him without even trying to sweep. This earned you a scoff as he once again shifted from washing to drying, though his trademark red flush crept up his neck at the same time, which meant he wasn’t really upset.

“It wasn’t a thing when we came,” he said. “Or, at least, it wasn’t that high. I’m pretty sure that it was included in the price of our tickets. They were so expensive that it would only make sense. Possibly not, though. Last I checked, they just raise the prices because they can nowadays.”

“I can’t understand it,” you said. “Why is there such a desperate need for people to come here? Surely you must know. Can you tell me?”

Belatedly, you realized this might give away your identity in some way, because who else would have such little sense for what was happening in the world but the princess who had been locked away for so long? But if Lee was suspicious, he did not show it, only exhaling heavily and shaking his head.

“There’s quite a lot, and none of it is safe to discuss here,” he said. “Sorry, but I don’t want something happening to my uncle or I.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “I don’t blame you. If I had known it was like that, I wouldn’t have asked.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s a strange place we live in.”

“That’s for certain!” you said, pointing the broom at him for emphasis. “Do you know the situation at that one gate?”

“The second southeast gate? Yeah, it’s in a bad shape, but almost all of them are like that,” he said. “It’s common knowledge, but that doesn’t mean anyone’s about to do anything about it.”

All of them were like that. That meant that every day, the entire perimeter of Ba Sing Se was flooded by people trying to get in, people like the ones the you and Blue Spirit had seen. It was human suffering on a scale you could not comprehend, and the broom clattered to the ground as you attempted to envision it. How many hundreds of them were there? What were they seeking refuge from? What reality was worse than the one they were running towards?

“Every gate,” you said. “But Ba Sing Se has so many…”

“Some of them are wealthier entrances,” Lee said, using a towel to wipe his hands off and unrolling his sleeves. Picking up the broom, he began to sweep. “It’s not that bad at those ones. Apparently, things at the second southeast gate are improving now, too.”

“Are they?” you said. It was only a modicum of reassurance, but even the knowledge that one less person might be hurt was enough to cheer you. “Why is that?”

“Apparently, some rich woman came with someone dressed as the Blue Spirit and donated half of her life savings so that no one had to pay the entrance fee there,” he said. “Things haven’t devolved into sheer chaos only because what she did is still a relatively unknown thing, so it’s mostly only had positive consequences so far.”

“Half of her life savings?” you said, thinking back to the amount you had given, which had really been nothing but pocket change. “Um, wow. That was — very generous of her to do. She must be a charitable person.”

“Must be,” Lee said flatly. “And I guess there really is a Blue Spirit in Ba Sing Se. Sorry for doubting it. Even though he’s obviously not the same person as the one from the play, namely because that Blue Spirit would’ve done something instead of just standing around when there’s people in need.”

“He was doing what he could!” you said. Lee raised his eyebrows at you, and this time, it was your turn to cough to disguise your emotions. “That is to say, I’m sure there was more going on than either of us are aware of.”

“Right,” he said. You glared at him.

“Really! The Blue Spirit is a good person!” you said, feeling honor-bound to defend him. Even if you hadn’t seen him in so long, he was still the man who had saved you. You still harbored some feelings you could not quite name for him. “Maybe it only looked like he wasn’t doing anything, but he was. I know he was.”

“Whatever you say. Super-fan,” he said, muttering the last under his breath.

“You’re the one who likes the play so much,” you reminded him. “If anyone’s a super-fan, it’s you.”

Lee was saved from responding by Mushi’s entrance. His uncle was the kind of person that was impossible to be angry around, and he had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly when you and his nephew were arguing. His presence quelled you both, and it was probably the only reason the two of you had not, in the earlier days, read one another to filth.

“Good, you got all of those cups washed!” Mushi said. “I was worried you’d be too distracted, but I’m glad to see that that didn’t happen.”

“What would I be distracted by?” Lee said, putting the broom away. You had picked up very quickly on the fact that Lee had no interest in helping out around the Pao Family Tea House, and that tea was not really something that excited him, but it was the only way that he and his uncle could make money, so he did what he could, albeit without a smile on his face or any passion to his motions.

“If I had a lovely lady to talk with all day, I’d hardly get anything done!” Mushi said.

“Uncle!” Lee hissed.

“It’s okay, Mushi. You can think of me as more of a taskmaster than anything; I make sure Lee gets everything done in a timely fashion,” you said when it became evident that Lee was far too embarrassed to say anything more.

“And she doesn’t even offer to help while she’s at it,” Lee added. “So, ha.”

“It feels like you were trying to get the last word in there, but I don’t think you were successful in that endeavor,” you said. “Just so you know.”

“Shut up,” he said.

“Lee, please be kind to your friend,” Mushi said.

“Yeah, Lee,” you crowed. “Be nice to your friend!”

“Y/N,” Lee said, pointing a threatening finger at you, though it was hard to genuinely be afraid of him when he was so relatively harmless in everything he did. “You’re not even my friend, so you don’t get to pull that card!”

“I’m the only person you talk to, besides your uncle, so doesn’t that make us friends automatically?” you said.

“No, it just means I don’t have any friends at all!” he said haughtily, leaning the broom against the wall and dusting his hands off against his apron.

“Once again, I don’t think that that’s quite the closing statement you were aiming for,” you said. “It has more of an embarrassing effect to it than a victorious one.”

“Now, now, both of you should stop quarreling,” Mushi said. “Lee, your shift is almost over. How about you and Y/N take some time to explore the city together? It’ll only improve your spirits!”

“Believe it or not, I’d actually rather work,” Lee said, though he did untie his apron and hang it up.

“Just be back in time for your evening shift!” Mushi said.

“I’ll make sure he is,” you promised, following after Lee as he all but raced out of the tea shop, waving at Mushi, who waved cheerfully back. “Hey, Lee, wait up!”

Luckily, Lee did slow down a bit, allowing you to catch up with him, the two of you walking side by side down the street in the afternoon sun. It was a different context than you were usually in; he had been forced to take the evening shift more often than not nowadays, so he was normally still working by the time you left for the fountain. Today was the first time you had come early enough to be there for his break, and without the tea shop in the background to smooth your interactions over, there was an awkwardness that filled the air.

Who were you and he outside of the Pao Family Tea House? Who was Lee when he was not working as a server? Who were you when you were not protected by the secrecy of being just another patron of the shop?

“It’s you!” a soft, feminine voice said. Suddenly, you were being accosted by a pair of arms thrown around your shoulders, holding you in the sincerest embrace you had felt in many years.

“Me?” you said, wriggling free from the hug to peer at the girl. She beamed up at you, holding onto your hands, and though you couldn’t quite place it, you knew that you did recognize her from somewhere.

“Yes, you,” she said. “Everyone’s been saying you’re a spirit, since you don’t match the description of anyone living in the Upper Ring, but I’vealways believed in you. I’ve always known that you were a real person.”

Your eyes widened as you realized where you knew her from: she was the girl who had been helping the man with the burnt leg at the second southeast gate. She must’ve seen you when you had given the captain the money, and somehow, despite the days that had elapsed since then, she had recognized you.

You glanced at Lee, but he did not seem surprised nor intrigued by the conversation. He was diligently reading a street sign, which really could not have been all too fascinating, but he was an odd boy with odd habits, and it afforded you some semblance of privacy to converse with the girl, so you did not say anything to him about it.

“You’re the reason my father is still alive, lady,” the girl said, squeezing your hands tightly. “We thought we might have to cut his — cut his leg off or something, but because of you, we were able to get to a doctor in time.”

“That kind of doctor must be expensive,” you said. She nodded.

“Oh, yes, he was one of the Upper Ring ones,” she said. “But he saved my father’s leg, so what does it matter? I’ll figure it out.”

“You will?” you said. “What about your mother? Or your elder siblings, if you have any?”

The girl glanced around nervously before beckoning you closer. You offered her your ear, wondering what kind of terrible secrecy she was sworn to that she had to be so careful.

“I know we’re not supposed to talk about it, so please don’t repeat this to anyone, but the truth is that my mother and my little brother were killed by Firebenders. They set our house on fire while they were taking over our village. It’s how my father got his leg burnt,” she said, her small voice choked. “He went back in to save them, but he couldn’t. The only reason I’m alright is that our cat had run away and I had gone to find her.”

She was barely more than a child, and yet she had had the responsibilities of a woman thrust upon her. How could a little girl be expected to take upon the sole burden of providing for herself, for paying back the doctor that her father had needed? It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair, but if not her, then who else could even do it? By that definition, she was alone now.

You thought that maybe you and she were not entirely dissimilar. In the end, you, too, were alone. Even if you could not relate to anything else, you had that much in common with her.

“Here,” you said, taking her hand, pressing a handful of coins into it. “I’m not sure if this will be enough, but it will be better than nothing. At least, it should tide you over until your father is feeling better and he, too, can find work.”

Her eyes shone, and she dipped into a bow. Cursing under your breath, you caught her by the shoulders, looking around to make sure that nobody had seen. The last thing you needed was to be caught and dragged back to the palace by the Dai Li or some other such authority.

“Lady, I only came to thank you, but you’ve done me such a favor that I don’t know how I can ever repay you for it,” she said. You smiled at her.

“You needn’t repay me. In truth, I should’ve been doing these things long ago; it’s only thanks to, ah, extenuating circumstances that I haven’t been. I hope you stay well, dear girl, and that your father may recover swiftly. I’m sorry that you have had to suffer so greatly already,” you said, ruffling her hair.

“I hope I get to see you again, lady,” she said before gasping. “Not because you’ve given me money every time! It’s because you’re really kind. I want to thank you properly one day.”

“If it is our destiny, then I’m sure we will meet once more,” you said. “And you needn’t thank me. It is only my duty.”

“Destiny?” she said. “But how can I ensure that that destiny comes about?”

“Hm,” you said, tapping your chin in thought. “When you are older, please work very hard. Work so hard that even the royal family cannot ignore your efforts, and then go to the palace and ask for Quynh. Even if I am not allowed to meet you, I will find a way. If you can do that, then I will do my part so that our fates can collide another time.”

“Quynh!” she said, sucking in a breath. “Oh, I didn’t know…! I’ve treated you so flippantly!”

“It’s not a problem,” you said. “Now run along. And — and I know it won’t do anything, but I’m very sorry about what happened to your family. I wish there was something I could’ve done to stop it.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “It was — you know. Them. You’re the one who’s helped me. I’m really grateful to you, so don’t apologize.”

“Maybe that’s how it is,” you said. “Anyways, welcome to Ba Sing Se. The city is improved by your presence.”

“Thank you!” she said, bowing again before you could stop her and then scampering away. You watched her go until she disappeared into the crowd, and then you turned to Lee, who was still steadfastly reading the same sign.

“There must be something fascinating written on that sign, for you to be so intently reading it,” you said, jabbing his arm with your pointer finger as you read over the sign yourself. “Mm, very interesting indeed. Left to the Firelight Fountain. Right to the Pao Family Tea House. Straight to the First Southeast Gate. That’s the kind of content you just can’t pull yourself away from.”

“I was trying to be respectful and not listen in on your conversation!” Lee said.

“Oh, thanks,” you said. “That was surprisingly good of you to do.”

“What was it about, anyways?” he said. “Why’d she recognize you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said. He pursed his lips before turning away, continuing to walk down the street, towards the Firelight Fountain where you spent your evenings waiting for the Blue Spirit.

“Who is Quynh?” he said after a second. You frowned at him.

“How do you not know who Quynh is? She’s the patron spirit of the Earth Kingdom!” you said. “Or at least of Ba Sing Se.”

“Sorry I never had much time to study theology of all things while I was out…there!” he said, vaguely gesturing around.

“Out there,” you said. “Where, like the Fire Nation or something? I thought knowledge of her must be common throughout the Earth Kingdom.”

“No!” he said quickly. “Just — we traveled a lot, you know, and mostly in rural areas, so we, um, never heard the stories.”

You supposed it made sense. What guarantee was there that the legend of Quynh had reached every single corner of the Earth Kingdom? It made sense that someone like Lee, who must’ve spent his formative years in some place closer to the border than Ba Sing Se, wasn’t quite educated on the tale of the great mother bear.

“What business did you have traveling, anyways?” you said.

“It was for, er, work,” he said. “We were in, uh, a circus! Yeah, a circus.”

“A circus,” you said. “I’m sure you attracted all sorts of patrons with your charming and outgoing personality.”

“I wasn’t a performer! My uncle was. I just maintained his equipment,” he said.

“That’s a little more believable,” you said. “What did he do in the circus?”

“He was,” Lee began, his eyebrows low over his eyes in thought, “an acrobat! Mhm. He was an acrobat.”

“It’s not as believable anymore,” you informed him. You couldn’t imagine Mushi doing flips and cartwheels anymore than you could imagine Lee juggling. When he had said that his uncle had been a performer, you had been expecting him to be the ringmaster, perhaps, or even an animal trainer, but not an acrobat.

“Why? Uncle Mushi is plenty flexible!” he said. You made a face.

“I shall take your word for it,” you said. “But I’m sure he’s pleased to be retired by now.”

“Very pleased,” Lee said. “In fact, he’s so pleased to have put that part of his life behind him that he becomes really upset when people bring it up again. So I’d recommend you don’t.”

Upsetting Mushi was the last thing you wanted to do, given how well he always treated you when you visited the Pao Family Tea House, so you nodded at Lee and mimed sealing your lips together.

“I won’t mention it,” you said.

“Thank you,” he said. “But back to the original topic. Who is Quynh?”

“Ah, right,” you said. “Although she’s known as the guardian spirit of Ba Sing Se, and of the Earth Kingdom in general, it’s a little more complex than that. You see, she’s not meant to guard the entire kingdom; her loyalty is to the royal family and them alone.”

“Then how’d it get confused?” he said.

“Once upon a time, when she was the most active, the interests of the royal family and the interests of the kingdom were not so separate,” you said. “Maybe it’s not the case in the recent era, but no one’s even seen Quynh in so long that by now, her name has been solidified in history as the great mother of the Earth Kingdom.”

“Is that all there is to the story?” he said as you reached the Firelight Fountain. Of course, in the daytime, there were no lanterns lit, but in lieu of the eponymous firelight, there was a family of turtleducks floating in the placid waters.

Digging in his pockets, Lee produced a bunch of grapes. Breaking off a few, he dropped them in your palm before taking a couple of his own and tossing them into the fountain for the turtleducks to peck at. You followed his example, secretly pleased that he had known that bread was bad for the turtleducks’ stomachs and had been appropriately prepared with a better alternative.

“No, naturally it’s a long tale,” you said. “Do you really want to hear it?”

“Sure,” he said. “It beats working the afternoon shift.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” you said. “Alright, then. It’s an old story, for Quynh is an old beast, but it’s widely considered to be timeless, so I hope that you do not find it to be at all dated, despite its age.”

Contrary to popular belief, Quynh was not born a spirit. In fact, she was a mortal animal, a bear — a true one, of the same form as King Kuei’s Bosco. Even she was a child once, a mere cub, small enough that a person could heft her in their arms.

In that time, bears were considered to be a great threat to the world. They were thought of as vicious, cruel creatures, with swords for teeth and knives for claws. Larger than any man could ever hope to be, they were frequently hunted, both for sport and for safety, and so it came to be that by the time Quynh was all of two moons old, her and her mother were the only known bears left in the world.

Her mother, who was scarred and gray at the muzzle, knew that it was only a matter of time before she and Quynh, too, followed in the paths of their brethren. She was a canny bear, and so she took Quynh to a river and sank her teeth into the scruff of her daughter’s neck, dipping her into mud to disguise her scent and then dragging the whining cub into a cave that promised to have what she needed.

It was some time before she reached it, but eventually, she made it to the center of the cave, where its inhabitant resided. It was one of the massive, blind badgermoles, though something set this one apart from the others: she was in mourning, hunched over the frail body of her young, which had drawn only a few breaths before passing. 

Quynh’s mother nudged the badgermole before dropping Quynh at her feet. The badgermole, deprived of her sense of smell because of the mud slathered over Quynh’s body, accepted her as her own — or perhaps she did not want to question the stroke of good fortune, that she had just lost her child and then so soon had been given another to care for, even one as tiny as Quynh.

Her mother nuzzled her one last time before leaving the cave. It is unclear what happened to her after that; until recently, it was agreed that she must have been killed like the others, but since the discovery of Bosco, her fate was no longer quite as certain. Perhaps she and a few others managed to survive for all of that time, leading to the birth of the king’s companion…or perhaps Bosco was unrelated to Quynh and the descendant of another strain entirely.

The badgermoles raised Quynh as if she were one of them. She learnt to Earthbend from them, though it was not in the same way; she was not blind, and so did not have the same reliance on the element, and because of her comparatively smaller stature, she never gained the strength needed to command the earth in the way of her family. Still, she did what she could, and though she remembered her mother fondly, she thought of her only on the coldest of nights. The badgermoles were the ones who reared her, and though she could never forget that she was not one of them, that she was a bear, she was never ostracized for it. They loved her, the badgermoles, and as she had spent much of her life with them, she loved them back.

It was when she was four years of age that someone else came to the cave of the badgermoles, though this visitor was neither bear nor badgermole. He was a boy, one with a kind smile and soft hands. His name was Shan, and according to him, he had come to learn from the badgermoles. Earthbending was their art, and if he ever wanted to master it in a meaningful way, then he would have to become their disciple.

Quynh did not trust Shan for many moons after his arrival. She remembered what his kind had done to her own, and though the badgermoles harbored no such misgivings, she would always snarl at him when he visited, gnashing her teeth until he backed away with his hands in the air.

Stubbornness, though, was a family trait. Just like the rest of his line, Shan was not willing to give up. He knew not why Quynh despised him, only that she did, and it was something he could not live with. Every day he tried, and every day, in small increments, she forgave him. The sins of his forefathers were not his own, after all, yet he still endeavored to make up for them. He would bring food for Quynh, tell her stories about the sun and promise to take her there one day — after all, she was a bear, not a badgermole, and bears were not meant to live in the darkness.

That was why, when Shan could no longer learn anything from the badgermoles, he did not leave immediately. Instead, he hesitantly reached out and placed his hand in between Quynh’s eyes, splaying his fingers over her broad forehead and asking her a question: will you come with me?

She hesitated for only a moment, but when she glanced back, the badgermoles had already left, for they, too, knew the truth of her being. They had raised her, and they had loved her, and it was because of those years of affection that they were doing her this last favor and letting her go, letting her rejoin the world that she was born to live in.

It was only once they both stood in the sun that Shan revealed something new to her: the continent which they lived on was in a state of perpetual war. It was composed of many small provinces which were constantly battling one another for as many reasons as there were creatures under the sun. For food. For land. For resources. For perceived insults. For women. For riches. It went on and on, and it was to one such war that Shan had lost his parents. 

This was why he needed Quynh’s help. He wanted to unite the provinces, to turn them into one kingdom, so that the wars might cease for some time, but he could not do it alone. He needed her strength, alongside the strength he had received from the badgermoles. She thought that she might feel angry, but in truth, there was a kind of joy she felt at being needed. So she, in her own way, agreed to his request. She agreed to help him turn the disjointed provinces into one united Earth Kingdom — just as long as she could stay by his side when doing so.

Quynh had come to love Shan. It was like that. Sometimes it was as if she had been born to meet him, to be his companion; if she were a human, then she might’ve called him her greatest friend, but since she was not, since she was but an animal, the only word she had for it was brother. Shan was her brother, though much more delicate than she and without nearly as much fur, so she guarded him with all the ferocity of an elder sibling.

Their combined mastery of Earthbending was too much for the warlords and their paltry armies. It was not long before their dream was realized and they had a proper kingdom. The warlords hailed Shan as their ruler and crowned him the Earth King, but then they ran into a new problem: what was a king without a palace?

Thus began their most ambitious undertaking, even more ambitious than the unification of the Earth Kingdom. They were to build a city, one that an ordinary man could not even conceptualize, one that even the greatest army could not take. It would be named Ba Sing Se: the impenetrable capital of the greatest kingdom the world had ever seen.

Scores upon scores of men were enrolled in academies to learn Earthbending, so that the city could be built in a timely fashion. Things went excellently for a time, and Quynh thought that she might finally be happy. She had her beloved Shan at her side, and now that the wars were over, she could spend most of her days sleeping, allowing the sun to warm her dark fur as she dozed in the gardens behind Shan’s childhood home. 

But things were not meant to be like that. A kingdom in its infancy would always strain against its new rulers; that was the way of things, a way which Quynh had not yet learnt. It was because of this that, during one of his tours of the site where the palace would soon be constructed, an assassin tried to kill Shan.

Quynh was the first to sense his arrival, but he was too fast for her to do anything. She could only roar out a warning to her brother as she ran towards him, her ears flat against her head, her swords for teeth and knives for claws extended, even though it was futile. She would not reach him in time. The man rushing at her Shan would stab the dagger into his back, and she could do nothing about it but push herself faster, faster, in the hopes that she could make it, in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, she could at least take the dagger in his stead.

It was not the dagger which killed her. It was her own brother’s student who cried out in alarm and sent a stalagmite shooting up from the ground and into her heart. It was that old fear which all men possessed, the insidious one which said that bears were vicious, cruel creatures, which spelled out her end, as it had spelled out the end of every other bear before her.

Shan had heeded Quynh’s warning and made quick work of the assassin, who was nothing in the face of a master Earthbender such as himself, so he had not understood at first why his faithful companion had stopped roaring. It was only when he turned and saw her bleeding and heard his pupil rambling on about how she had almost killed him that he understood what had happened.

He cast the boy aside, banished him from the Earth Kingdom and told him to never return, and then he fell to his knees in front of Quynh’s lifeless body. For, as she had loved him, he had loved her, too. The skittish bear who had detested him thoroughly…in the process of winning her over, an indescribable fondness had blossomed in him. Quynh was the only reason he had a kingdom. Quynh was the only reason he had anything. Why, then, was Quynh gone? How was he supposed to rule without her at his side? His Quynh. His bear. His greatest friend.

For three days and three nights, he prayed. He prayed to every spirit he could think of: Tui, La, Agni, the Mother of Faces, and even the more unsavory ones, such as Koh the Face-Stealer. He prayed only for one thing: Quynh’s return. He would give up everything, he repeated, as long as she came back to him. That was his promise. That was his vow.

Only one spirit heard him. He was a being who claimed to be a father, though he held such a disdain for everything that it was uncertain whose father he was meant to be, exactly. Shan would never have dared to converse with such a spirit unless he was truly desperate, but he was truly desperate, and it was for this reason that he opened himself to conversation with one of the most malevolent beings in both the spiritual and physical planes: Father Glowworm.

Father Glowworm was the conniving sort, but he was, in his own way, fair. It was not pity that drove his actions, of course, but a hunger, a lust. He told Shan that he could not bring Quynh back, that it was against the laws of the universe to breathe life unto death, but that there was something else he could do — for a price.

Shan agreed. It didn’t matter the price. He had lost his entire family already; he could not lose Quynh, too. Father Glowworm warned him that he would not like it, but Shan swore that there was nothing more important to him than Quynh.

But the price itself was Quynh, Father Glowworm said. He would subsume her body. Shan would have to watch him tear her apart and eat her, and if he could manage that, if he could manage to watch as Father Glowworm ate the body of his greatest friend, then Father Glowworm would give her spirit some of his powers, the ones which allowed him to tunnel between the physical and spiritual worlds. 

There was still another catch. According to Father Glowworm, what he was about to do was the highest form of offense. By offering Quynh’s body to Father Glowworm, Shan was desecrating it thoroughly, and by agreeing to watch, he was essentially forsaking her, declaring that she meant nothing, was nothing to him but rot and garbage. Her spirit would not know the meaning of the ritual, only that it was being done, and so, even if he went through with it, there was a high likelihood that she would not manifest ever again. She would never dare show herself to the man who had allowed her to be devoured by such an evil being, who had stood by and taken in the gory scene without so much as flinching.

She would have to love him so much that she returned in spite of that, Father Glowworm said. Those were the conditions. That was the only way it could be.

Even though it was wrong, even though she would most likely hate him for the rest of time, even though he knew he was ruining everything for the mere chance that he might see her again, Shan agreed to it. Because there was that chance. Because if Quynh loved him as much as he loved her, then she would come back. Because if it had been the opposite way, he would’ve come back. For Quynh, no matter what she did to him, he would’ve come back.

Father Glowworm did nothing to spare Shan’s feelings. His eye remained focused on the man as he did exactly as he had promised, gorging himself on Quynh’s body piece by bloody piece, until there was nothing left of her but a pile of gleaming bones. Those bones, too, were not safe, as he absorbed them, humming as the power and life which had once been Quynh’s filled him instead.

The entire time, Shan stared straight ahead, his gaze never wavering from Father Glowworm’s singular eye. And finally, when the spirit was finished, he began to laugh.

Foolish man, he told him. Everything you have done has been for naught. Do you think that any creature is loyal enough to return after you allowed its body to be destroyed like that? I thank you for the meal, but this is where we must part.

Shan clenched his fists and kept staring into that eye, asking him only one thing. Did you give Quynh the powers you promised? Is she a spirit now?

Of course, Father Glowworm said. Consider it a gratuity for how delicious she was.

Though it seemed hopeless, Shan did not fret the way Father Glowworm was urging him to. As soon as he had the confirmation that Quynh really was a spirit, he allowed himself to relax, nodding at the pulsating mass that was Father Glowworm’s body.

Father Glowworm was naturally confused. In this kind of situation, Shan should’ve been screaming, should’ve been cursing him for the unfair deal — the deal which was by design uneven. He had made it so many times, and it had never mattered. The end result was always the same. The dead ones never came back. They wandered the spirit world in a haze of confusion and anger, hating a person whose only crime had been loving them too much — not that they knew that, of course. Watching their grief and ingesting their mourning was how he amused himself in his eternal existence, but Shan provided no such amusement. It was only a moment later, as the ground began to shake and an enormous form made of shadows emerged from a doorway in the air, that Father Glowworm understood why.

Quynh loved Shan. And so, Quynh came back.

“That’s the tale of her origin, anyways,” you said.

“I didn’t know that Father Glowworm made deals with people,” Lee said. “In all my studies — limited studies, of course, given that I was doing, uh, circus-y things most of the time — he was just a bloodthirsty killer.”

“Even spirits get bored,” you said. “He was also that, but from time to time, he would do this type of thing for no other reason than because he could. Because he wanted to. Are you following?”

“I think so,” Lee said. “Is this a true story?”

“If you believe in Quynh, it is,” you said. You had heard the tale from Quynh herself, so of course you knew that it was real, but it remained that not everyone was aware that Quynh was more than a legendary concept. And surely you could not give away that you had met Quynh personally — many times in fact — so the non-answer was the best way you could hint to Lee just how verifiable the so-called myth was.

“I see,” he said. “It’s really fantastical.”

“Perhaps,” you said.

“But maybe not entirely so,” he said. “Is it known what powers Father Glowworm gave her?”

“It is,” you said. “Though if you didn’t believe that story, you’ll scoff at what they are. They’re very power-of-love based.”

“Sappy,” he said.

“Most assuredly,” you said.

“Just tell me. You’ve gotten me interested now,” he said.

“The palace is built around Quynh’s Den,” you said. “It’s where Quynh resides, so that she may look after the royal family — the descendants of Shan, who she considers to be like her own children — and it’s a place outside of time or space, in a way. It’s said that her den is made in the same place that her body died and her spirit was reborn. In fact, all of Ba Sing Se was built around that central location, with her Den serving as a support to the entire city.

“Because of this, and because of Father Glowworm’s tunneling powers which he gifted to her, she’s also known as the Keeper of Doors. It’s said that every door in Ba Sing Se is a place sacred to Quynh, and that’s why you’ll sometimes see people praying while standing in doorways. From Quynh’s Den, she can open doors to anywhere in the city, though she has trouble with extreme precision or accuracy. Some say that her doors lead you to where you need to go, not where you want to.”

“I don’t see what’s romantic about that,” Lee said. “It’s typical spirit world stuff.”

“Let me finish!” you said, accidentally throwing a grape too hard into the water. It hit the surface with a splash, dousing the nearby turtleduck, who honked at you in irritation. You mouthed an apology at it.

“Look what you’ve done,” Lee observed. “You’ve gone and made the turtleducks upset. Great going, Y/N.”

“Hush!” you said. “Anyways, the romantic part is the best part of the story, I’d say, but it’s the least accepted. You see, Quynh obviously loved Shan.”

“Obviously,” Lee said.

“She loved him so much that it manifested in her powers, too. There’s only one door that she never closes and which always has the same destination, no matter where it’s opened from: Quynh’s Door, which leads to the inside of the palace itself,” you said.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Lee said.

“It would be,” you said. “Think of how many invasions would be successful if the aggressors could find Quynh’s Door! But it’s not one of her normal doors, which can be seen by anybody. Sometimes, it can’t be seen by anyone at all. It’s a door that only appears to those who Quynh deems worthy.”

“And how is one deemed worthy?” Lee said, clearly enthralled as he leaned in towards you slightly, all pretenses of feeding the turtleducks abandoned. You grinned at him.

“It’s the same way Quynh came back as a spirit,” you said. “You have to be loved by Shan, or, in modernity, someone of his line.”

“You don’t say…” Lee trailed off.

“Do you see what I mean? It’s almost out of the realm of probability that it’s the case, that she really loved Shan that much, but it’s the truth,” you said. “The only way that a person can find Quynh’s Door and enter the palace without restriction is if they are loved by someone in the royal family.”

taglist (comment/send an ask/dm to be added): @rinisfruity14 @c4ttheart @blacky-rose @shizko @marsbars09 @happyplaidpersonfestival @catborglar @camilleverreault @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @lovialy @heart4hees @stefnarda

[imthepunchlord]

ML writers should just stop doing fanservice for useless things,there are so much more better things to put in the show that fans want than Felix

There's also the issue that the "fanservice" brings up a wonder of them potentially taking inspiration from fans? Which a lot of fandom popular ideas did come into canon.

Felix came back. Also Peafowl was the popular alternative Miraculous for him, and well, guess what he got in canon?

We did get a kwami swap, which was a popular au idea.

We also technically got enemies/rivals au through Paris Special, which is another idea I've seen around the fandom.

Miss Fortune, who was a very popular akuma idea for Ladybug, made a cameo (though she was not name dropped).

And then we did actually get Chat Blanc, who was the most popular akuma for Chat Noir.

Then we did get Turtle!Nino, who's popularity was sparked by a fic called The Weight of Jade, which Turtle!Nino in that fic went by Jade Turtle.

Not only did we get Turtle!Nino, but the name Jade Turtle did come up in canon, though for Fu which you still kinda have a raise a brow at.

Pre s2, there was a popular idea/theory/claim that Chloe has a nice sister named Amber who was the actual Bee holder.

Which we then got Zoe as Chloe's nice sister and actual Bee holder.

There may be more but I can't think of them atm.

Which like, yeah are going to make predictions and those will pop up, but it is curious that so much of what fans predicted and thought of have come up in the actual show in some shape or form.

[yourlocalaulibrary]

Peter Parker Needs a Hug Fic Rec's

Ongoing Peter Parker fics that are underrated and/or up and coming that deserve some more love! They all have the 'Peter Parker Needs a Hug' tag which is one of my favorites to explore. Mix of Batfam, Peter and Avengers, and Peter + other Marvel Heroes. All fics are currently over 20k words, enjoy! Links are the underlined titles, just click and read :D

1. Faith (Now that's a Strong Word) by mtopin:

Peter and Dick seem to always be one step ahead of the other, but if they both are it just leads them to run into one another. (Other Notable Tags: Peter Parker & Dick Grayson, BatFamily Members & Peter Parker, Canon Divergence) Rec Reason: The author seems to have a good grasp on the dynamic between Peter & Dick, which helps in establishing their characters

2. He's Mr. Perfectly Fine by howls_library:

Peter is trying his best to be the leader of a new team of heroes while being mentored by the former avengers. He tries to take a page out of Tony's book to do so. (Other Notable Tags: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, Steve Rogers/James "Bucky" Barnes, X-Men References) Rec Reason: Some of the best dialogue between character's I've read, the plot is plotting and Peter is a standout character when given the leader role. Plus Irondad dynamic and future Bucky & Peter friendship according to the author, which I LOVE.

3. Come Down in Circles (And Guide Me to Love) by 221BroadwayIron:

Irondad and Spiderson are taken to new heights as Tony has to decide what exactly to do with a surprising new addition after the passing of Peter's aunt. (Other Notable Tags: Kid Peter Parker, Fluff and Angst, Avengers Family, Alternate Universe) Rec Reason: Kid Peter is something I adore reading and this is the epitome of Tony Stark has a heart. It is a fluffy little fic where it takes itself lightly.

4. Echoes of a Shadow by Somnis88:

Peter escapes Hydra with amnesia. He has so much to learn. Like how to be a typical highschooler, and how to balance all that with his newfound alter ego. A great twist on the past life trope. (Other Notable Tags: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Harley Keener, Peter Parker is a BAMF Puppy) Rec Reason: The whole idea of having someone lose their memories is difficult to pull off but I think that this is a great take on the trope. Plus the character's in this fic are some of my favorites to incorporate.

5. The Wrecked and The Worried (My Responsibility) by Shieldmaidenshay:

A Peter in Gotham fic that is filled with a mixture of canon and headcanon per the author. A good story to read when you are needing something new! (Other Notable Tags: Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Has Issues) Rec Reason: While some may disagree with fanon or headcanon's I am completely fine with it when the author acknowledges that's what they are doing. This is exactly that.