#canon divergence

[softf-eathers]

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹ The official sprite for my little girl, Cygnus. Plus Grim!

I am aware it’s not the best, but as for now, I think it really fits Cygnus. <3

@/cygnusintwistedwonderland

🦢

[anarchycox]

Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale & Sheriff Stilinski, Derek Hale & Sheriff Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale Characters: Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Lydia Martin, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Season/Series 02, POV Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Pack Dad Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Full Shift Werewolves, Pack Alpha Derek Hale, Good Parent Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Good Pack Alpha Derek Hale, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Feels, Not Pro Scott Not Anti-Scott But Just Scott, Nudity, Cuddling, Underage Drinking, Get together fic, Past Relationships, pack as family, Rebuilt Hale House, Stilinskis are Slightly Magic Very Slightly, Home is other people Summary:

In a world where werewolves fully shift, you have to deal with the question of what do they wear after they shift back?

Noah now lives in a world where he has to think about that question. A lot.

And why have all these dang werewolves decided that his house is the one they are going to be naked in?

[spear-shadow]

What an AI Girlfriend Is Actually For

Strip away the hype and the purpose is human: connection, attention, a little warmth at the end of the day. SweetDream is honest about that. You make a companion who's glad to see you and who remembers you, and that's enough to make a difference.

The reason it works is quality. Shallow chat would break the spell instantly. Instead, sweetdream.ai gives you natural conversation, real-feeling voice and calls, and visuals that hold together. That's what turns an idea into something you actually use.

[spear-shadow]

Breakspear's Shadow

Chapter 11

Story Summary: During the Trial of Seven, a sudden premonition allows Baelor to dodge the killing blow meant for his head. His survival set things in motion that would change the course of history. What was meant for the distant future is unfolding in the present, and Baelor finds himself face to face with a creature from the past. or The one where Baelor survives Ashford but ends up claiming the Cannibal. Chaos ensues. Chapter Summary: The dreaded small council Papa Daeron talk ❤️ More magic returning?!?!?! 👀

The council chamber had never felt smaller to Daeron than it did that morning, though nothing about its dimensions had changed in the whole of his reign. He took his seat at the head of the long table and looked around at the faces staring back at him. 

Grand Maester Malleon arrived first, as he always did, his satchel already bulging with correspondence he had no doubt already attempted to sort into some semblance of order. Lord Donnel Arryn came next, composed and precise, though Daeron did not miss the way his eyes lingered a moment too long on Baelor's still-empty seat before taking his own. Lord Robert Redwyne arrived complaining, as was his custom, muttering something about half his fleet still refusing to leave harbor. Lord Ronnel Penrose followed with his ledgers already open, though Daeron suspected, as did most, that the sums within them owed rather more to his wife's hand than his own.

Maekar had walked with him from the gallery but had opted to remain by the door where Ser Gwayne Corbray took his customary post, exchanging low words with the Kingsguard while the council settled. And as it had for nearly three weeks now, the seat belonging to the Master of Whisperers remained empty, though Daeron knew better than to think his brother was ever truly absent.

Baelor came last, and the chamber went deathly still as he entered.

He walked with his usual measured grace, his boots making barely a sound against the polished stone, yet the weight of his presence seemed to fill every corner of the room. Only those who knew him well or looked closely enough could see the subtle stiffness in his stride. Maekar fell into step beside him without a word, moving like a storm cloud at his brother's shoulder, his gaze sweeping over the council with a harsh stare that promised violence to anyone foolish enough to speak out of turn.

"Your Grace," Baelor greeted, inclining his head before taking his usual seat at the King's right hand.

Maekar settled into the chair beside his brother, a silent, brooding presence that Daeron found himself grateful for, more than he would readily admit.

A heavy silence settled over the table, every eye fixed on the Hand of the King, an occurrence that was not entirely unfamiliar in this room, though the silence today carried a weight that made even the air feel thick and difficult to draw into one's lungs.

"My lords," Daeron began, voice calm, cutting through the tension. "I trust you have all had time enough to compose your thoughts since the Hand's return. I would hear them now, plainly, while we are among ourselves."

"Your Grace." Lord Arryn was the first to answer, his tone carefully measured. "Prince Baelor. Prince Maekar. On behalf of the council, we are glad to see you returned to us in good health."

"I am glad to be returned, my lord," Baelor replied, and something in the dry understatement of it eased a fraction of the tension in the room, though far from all of it.

Maekar merely grunted his reply, crossing his arms and leaning back into his seat.

Grand Maester Malleon cleared his throat, his chain of office clinking softly as he shifted in his chair. "My Lord Hand," he began, his voice faltering slightly before finding its footing. "While we give thanks to the Seven for your safe return, and of course Prince Maekar's, we would be failing in our duty to the realm if we did not address the—uh—the extraordinary matter currently residing in the middle bailey."

"The Cannibal," Maekar supplied, his voice dropping into that dangerous, low gravel that cut through the chamber like drawn steel. "You may speak his name, Grand Maester. He will not burst through the floorboards simply because you uttered it."

Read full chapter on Ao3

[kryptophysics]

Varang's Going To Make You Pretty

from 'Reflections of an Ash Desert', Chapter 1

Story Summary: Jake and Miles strike a custody deal to keep the peace between them and by extension Pandora: they're going to share Spider. Every half a year Spider has to switch between Jake, Neytiri & Miles, Varang. Hijinx ensue. Spider is gay and explores this aspect of himself when living with the mangkwan. The story assumes that the events of Avatar:Fire & Ash happened slightly differently. The details of this divergence are revealed as the story progresses.

written for Just Write June 2026; all 28 prompts will be chapters

Chapter Summary: Spider wakes up in a daze inside Varang's yurt after his father drops him off to live with the mangkwan for a while. He meets this warrior whose about his age and, um, sparks? Maybe? I donno....

Just Write June 2026, Day 1, Accidental Coming Out

Chapter 1 "Varang's Going To Make You Pretty" (rated T)

The fire that awoke Spider extinguished into a thinning, dancing stream of smoke.

She’s mixing ash?

Inside the yurt, the light dimmed except at the gaps of the seams through which sunrise bled. Across the tent, crouched at the crucible, cloaked by the shadow, the mangkwan witch worked. She mixed ash – the remains of the fires – with powder to form a bloody pigment. A breeze stiffened and rattled the totems. The pigment glowed as if feed by the air. She turned, angling her face, curling her lips to smile. A wicked smile. That stopped the heart.

She’s looking at me?

Oh, Eywa!

She chuckled: “air breather!”

The blanket wrapped his body. It felt tight and heavy. Like lead and perhaps it may have been so. The mangkwan forged their gear from metal. They used metal beyond what any other na’vi would have dared to. The witch would have fire proofed her bed, right? Right? Lined with a ghastly amalgam of elements to make the RDA blush.

Or was it nerves?

It was nerves….

A warrior of his age walked into the yurt. The body thin. The limbs long. They swayed; even the kuru and the tail swayed. They were ashed white; everywhere; with a thin, red stripe from chin to waist. They had to be somebody. Maybe the olo’eyktan? They were familiar although he couldn’t say when or where or how he’d seen them. Ah, they had been there that midnight his father dropped him off in the village. They had cut his bindings and slapped away the spears of the warriors that had met him during his perpwalk into Varang’s yurt.

The wind’s howl muffled the conversation between the warrior and the tsahik.

Spider peeled out of the blanket. He must have been drugged that midnight he was delivered to Varang. The fog was lifting, fading. And as the sedative passed, more and more of reality slipped into view. He had been painted – white by ash – and roughly. His skin wasn’t blue or striped or luminous so the cover was light. The strokes were streaked by the artist’s prints. Completed by the artist’s seal, a black handprint pressed onto his chest. A reverse of her ‘eye’.

“Wake.”

A statement?

A threat?

Spider gawked at the yurt’s center. It was the warrior not the tsahik who spoke. The youth’s voice echoed Varang’s gravel. Even the way they moved as they moved to him – how the hips and the tails swayed – matched that of the dark tsahik. The sight of that took the human’s breath away. He froze unsure of what to do.

Like Lo’ak, the warrior had to be his age only taller. They knelt at the blanket, legs and arms spreading, body sinking as if to join him at the bed. They came to within inches of the human’s virtually naked, totally ashed body – then – started an onslaught … of poking.

“Wakey! Wakey! Air Breather.”

Spider tried to slap away the hands but they felt as if thousand were launched at him. It went that way, with the warrior tickling and the human squirming. He realized they were working him closer and closer to the edge of the bed. Until he returned the gesture. His efforts, though, only elicited laughter.

They tussled until both tumbled onto the ground.

Laying then sitting between a totem of skulls, they stopped so as to not disturb the furniture. Spider didn’t move and didn’t realize that in their ‘fight’ that strip of cloth the mangkwan enforced upon him slipped and exposed him. Only the warrior noticed that accidental outage.

“Don’t fight, Spider,” he spoke the English. Slowly, they leaned, eyes and hands up. Their smile vanished. “Sorry. Don’t fight. Sorry.”

Strangely, the warrior didn’t pose a threat.

They reached and tugged that strip of cloth – and it covered the human’s genitals.

Spider’s eyes gasped at what he realized happened.

They clasped his hands, four fingers zippered into five fingers, a contact between species that lasted blinks yet endured breaths.

“Look.” Quickly, they shifted their loincloth.

Spider wasn’t a stranger to the shape or the function of na’vi genitals of either sex. The omatikaya left little if anything to modesty. He, too, wasn’t as bothered as the RDA. Still, until the warrior exposed himself right there, right there – in Varang’s yurt – he hadn’t witnessed anybody of his age be so … so erect. He suspected it should be like that. Like his, but, bluer, stripier, longer, thicker…. The tip swelled into a shape that he thought was … beautifully … sleek. Different, to be sure.

The warrior tapped their tip to bounce it – they made a sound as they did so – he chuckled at the effect.

“Like yours, see. I get a show. You get a show. We’re the same, the same,” he laughed.

“Yeah,” it was Spider who covered the warrior. “I gotta step outside.”

Beyond the yurt, the village stirred. Life started early even for psychopaths. Tents dotted the desert the mangkwan settled into. For a while Spider thought about … walking and walking … and running away. Except that would have upset the balance.

Ahead, the volcano glowered against the stars of the skies. Its peak sparkled a shade of violet – a sight that conjured as if by magic a reflection of the warrior’s anatomy. By chance he saw many, many things. That had been the very first time that a boy intentionally showed themselves. Willingly. Eagerly. God, it didn’t even matter that they could have been caught.

It wasn’t to be yet Spider fantasized that Lo’ak showed him that. Or, oh Eywa, oh Eywa, Neteyam…. They had come the closest to that so, so many times. In the depths of his heart he’d wonder just how far they might have gone.

He returned into the yurt and caught the warrior tidying that mess at the tsahik’s bed.

Spider grasped their hands as they worked. Why? He didn’t know. It was the strangest, wildest urge. He didn’t know what else to do except that he didn’t want yet another connection to slip the way he let the boys he loved slip. He used that bed as a step then kissed the warrior’s cheek.

They smiled, ears twitching.

“Did you mean that?”

“Yeah, um, you mad at me?”

“No.”

It may have been the most normal interaction Spider had had with any mangkwan.

“Come, Air Breather, you’re one of us. Varang’s going to make you pretty.”

End of Chapter

Link to r/AO3 Just Write June 2026 Collection

Link to Reflections of an Ash Desert at AO3

[lyvinverse]

HOTD / "House of the Dragon" Bot #14 Aemond Targaryen x (your OC) [AnyPOV]; 𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝓐𝓤 / 𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔰𝔢; 🍋 𝔩𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔠𝔦𝔢𝔰

Summary: In a world where Targaryens rule the waves, Aemond stole the legendary ship Vhagar and became a pirate king. He sails for one thing: the mythical healing spring that could restore his lost eye. But his hunt brings him face to face with {{user}} - a cunning, elusive pirate who is always one step ahead. When Aemond finally corners the painted ship and storms the captain's cabin, he doesnt find a scarred sea dog, but a slender young man with an infuriating smile and no fear in their eyes.

Genres: [Romance] [Angst] [Enemies to Lovers] [Pirate AU] [Slow Burn] [Male Disguise] [Forced Proximity]

Meet the our precious prince on [character ai] and [janitor ai]!

Happy chatting!

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ᶜᵒˡˡᵃᵍᵉ ᵖⁱᶜᵗᵘʳᵉˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴾⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗ

[lyvinverse]

HOTD / "House of the Dragon" Bot #13 Aemond Targaryen x (your OC); 𝔪𝔬𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔫 𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝓐𝓤 [𝔯𝔢𝔮] / "𝔭𝔞𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰, 𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢"

Summary: The Westeros country is split in two. Two governments, two armies, two flags. Aemond Targaryen stands at a checkpoint between them, a gatekeeper with a cold eye and a quiet grudge. When a military analyst from the Black faction arrives for a meeting with his superiors, he decides to make their passage as difficult as possible, not because he has to, but because he can.

Genres: [Angst] [Romance] [Enemies to Lovers] [Modern Military AU] [Slow Burn] [Power Dynamics] [Duty vs Desire] [Tension]

Meet the confused prince on [character ai] and [janitor ai]!

My deepest gratitude for this brilliant anonymous request! ₊˚⊹♡

Happy chatting!

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

ᶜᵒˡˡᵃᵍᵉ ᵖⁱᶜᵗᵘʳᵉˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴾⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗ

[hollanovficlib]

in your arms i'd start a war by justhere4ke

Ilya widens his eyes, moves his hands in an impatient “get on with it” motion. He has the urge to say it for him, end both their misery. Shane blinks rapidly a few times, takes another deep breath. “I want to stop,” he says simply.

Ilya lets out one humorless laugh, “Stop what?”

Shane ignores him. “At the All Star Game, I told you I liked you. And you said about Russia and your family. And I looked some things up. I get it. I get it better now. I know we can’t but I can’t stop wanting to be…more. Unless we stop.”

OR

Shane just wants to be friends and Ilya is, like, fine with that or whatever