Can someone please write a SVSSS AU loosely based off of Wicked?
Like follow the general Wicked and Wizard of Oz storylines, but make it fit to SVSSS, you know?
Likeâ
âą Meet SY and his brother, SQQ.
âą SQQ is in a wheel chair and SY is literally green.
âą SQH and SY wind up as roommates who love-hate each other, eventually becoming besties.
âą SQH is not beloved like Glinda, but everyone is used to him being in charge and handling everything all the time. So EVERYONE thinks he has magic. (Heâs also a manipulative little shit.)
âą MBJ is a prince who transfers in, and basically orders SQH around. (Dates him, though SQH is terrified.)
âą MBJ eventually becomes Scarecrow. Does not diminish his intimidation aura at all.
âą SQH convinced YQY to date SQQ. (This relationship ends the same as Wicked. Because it makes sense.)
âą LBH is Lion. Not because heâs cowardly, because heâs not. No, because SY freed him and now LBH will follow him for the rest of his life. Obsessed. âŠAnd his hair looks like a mane.
âą Idk who could play Madame Morrible. Maybe the Old Palace Master.
âą LGG is Chistery. Heâs not a monkey but he IS a guard who winds up with wings and ends up being one of SYâs closest trusted companions.
âą Ning YingYing is Dorothy, and she feels terrible about the shoes.
âą Liu Mingyan and Sha Hualing are SQHâs two sidekicks. Only, theyâre the reason why heâs even popular. I want them to sing Popular to him.
âą I want SQH to sing Dancing Through Life ironically. And thatâs when MBJ falls for him.
âą And keep the whole hat scene at the Ozdust Ballroon. It is 100% necessary.
âą They do eventually fix Oz and rescue the animals and stuff, but SY and LBH kinda do what was done in the svsss bookâthey go on an extended honey moon and leave SQH and MBJ in charge.
It's really important to me that y'all understand that Fiyeros last words are, "Glinda, I'm so sorry."
Thats it. "Glinda, I'm so sorry." and then the end, lights out, shows over for Fiyero.
Those are the last words he speaks alive. Those are his last words, not as a scarecrow. It is the last thing he ever says. he looks at his ex-fiancee, the only person he's been able to trust, to rely on, to love, for the last 5 years. The person he just abandoned not 24 hours earlier. The person he was abandoning again but this time so much worse.
And she's forgiving him. She's looking at him and saying you abandoned me for my best friend, and you held me at gunpoint, and I'm pretty sure you'd hate me if you could, but it's ok because I love you, and I'll always love you, and you love her, and so do I and its ok, because as long as someone loves her, then it's ok.
"He was never going to hurt me, he just loves her."
And he's about to be dragged off to his death. They both know it, even if Glinda is still pretending like she can change it. She would if she could. She'd give her life to save his. To save theirs. but she can't. And that's a rant for another day.
And instead of begging for his life, instead of screaming and pleading against the brutal death he's surely going to receive, he looks up at the only person he's had for 5 years. The woman he's loved for 5 years. The woman he so deeply betrayed. And he apologizes. Because he can't have his last act hurt her. She has to know he loves her and will always love her.
His last act hurts her anyway because his last act is being beaten to death in front of her, but there's nothing either of them can do about that but scream.
"Glinda, I'm so sorry."
For the gun, for leaving, for staying, for being mad, for being happy, for lying, for not loving you enough, for loving her too much, for all of it.
"Glinda, I'm so sorry."
And then he's dragged away. And Glinda screams and cries, and begs them to let him go. And Fiyero does none of those things. Because it's pointless and they both know it. But he's not the one who has to live with his death. She is.
"Glinda, I'm so sorry."
and then he's dead.
Anyway, I am sick and tired of people saying they never loved each other because they absolutely did. I don't care if you think it was romantic or platonic or familial or what. They loved each other.
And it was Fiyero's death, it was watching Fiyero's fate be exactly what she was terrified hers would be, that motivated her to finally say fuck it and go find Elphie. It was Fiyeros death that caused her to go against everything that motivated her the entire show because she already lost one of the people she cares most about, there's no way in Oz she'll lose both of them.
And then she does anyway. And Glinda Upland is alone.
So stop saying they never loved each other cause they did. It was complicated at the best of times, but they did.
Guys, I'm getting low key obsessed thinking about the Dorothy plot happening in the background during Wicked: For Good, specifically just Fiyero's POV.
Like, Fiyero is already having a doozy of a day and then suddenly there is this small child that his ex sent off to see The Wizard, who he knows can't help, and she's just so sweet and she just wants to go home and seriously Glinda what's with giving the child Nessa's shoes?
But, okay, I guess since she has absolutely no parental supervision I should go with her and make sure she makes it to the Emerald City, right? Maybe I can steer her towards Elphaba and she can come up with something? Right, good plan. This is a plan.
Oh how can I talk? That's...a good question. I came to be this way yesterday? Nope. No memory at all. Only straw up here. Actually, you know what? That's why I'm going to see The Wizard. Yep. No other reason.
And Fiyero does his typical thing of trying to distract from the bad by making other people happy because he really doesn't want to traumatize this girl more than she already has been.
But, slight hiccup in the plan, they run across a Tin Man who is...fuck...that's totally Boq.
And of course Dorothy, sweet girl that she is, wants to help.
Fiyero is going into a panic hoping Boq doesn't recognize him.
Oh he looks familiar? Huh, that's strange, he was basically born yesterday. Nope, can't say I know you. Nothing but straw up here.
So his plan is now derailed because Boq does still believe in The Wizard and no way is Fiyero letting this guy anywhere near Elphaba. Maybe we can ditch him and what do you mean there is a Lion here too?
Anyway, my point is, if/when we get another Wicked movie, this is the midquel I want.
Keep it as much in line with the 1939 Wizard of Oz as possible without contradicting what we know happens in Wicked. Since this is a Wicked movie, in terms of order of priority of continuity Wicked takes precedent but otherwise defer to Wizard of Oz. Have Jonathan Bailey come back to sing "If I Only Had a Brain". And just keep it as much in this man's POV as you can.
(And small aside, if I had a farmhand back home that reminded me of Jonathan Bailey, then yeah, I'd miss him most off all too)
HCâ Xiang Fei was such a weirdo that he HAD to be born into SQH because otherwise it wouldâve been incredibly noticeable that he wasnât the character.
I mean, look, he was in PIDW his entire second life and he could still remember some English??? Ok, so the truth is that if a language isnât your first and you donât use it for decades, youâre not gonna really remember much of it. And yeah, he wasnât great, but he remembered!
He remembered a lot. Letâs put the whole transmigrator thing aside. SQH was born and remembered his past life to the point where it left an impact on him as a person. He was different. He learned to fit in, sure, but how smart do you think Xiang Fei was?
Realistically, back in ancient times, a voice in your head was either a demon or a god. Joan of Arc is a perfect example of this. Doesnât matter if it tells you itâs a âsystemâ. Unless you know what that is, youâre not gonna understand.
Now Iâm going down a rabbit hole. This has officially become word vomit. But you get what I mean, right?
TL:DR: I hc that Xiang Fei was a weird genius who basically had to be reborn in order to fit in.
In general i think that Shang Qinghua deserves to get baby trapped without even having sex potentially but is so used to his shit life and being overworked that he's just like bro I always feel nauseous. I always have a headache. My back and chest are never not aching. Its fine.
And then he looks at his waist line and goes wait something is off. At 7 months in.
Shang Qinghua was observantâŠmost of the time. Hereâs the thing, this world of his had a lot of shit he just didnât remember. So many papapa plants and insects that could cause gender swaps, and gems and jewels that did all sorts of kinky shit. How was he supposed to remember which did what?! Itâs not like he had his notes from back when he was Xiang Fei. And even if he did have those notes, itâs not like heâd go back to them for every single item he comes across! That would be, well, smart, actually. Damn, he wished he had his notes.
It had to have been that gem his King had gifted him for a job well done. A pretty sapphire-looking thing the size of an egg. It had been hefty, and when Mobei-Jun handed it to him there had been something there. A chill Shang Qinghua felt down to his bones. Heâd thought it had just been his King.
He had been wrong. Oh so wrong.
Currently, he was standing before Mu Qingfang, both of them in a stupor. Although Mu Qingfang hid his surprise much better than Shang Qinghua. (He mustâve seen stuff like this before, thereâs no way he hasnât.)
âShang-shidi is about seven months along now,â Mu Qingfang said in his unruffled and calm doctors voice.
Which was good, because had he not been calm then Shang Qinghua wouldâve lost his shit. As it was, he was on the verge of hyperventilation.
âThe fetus seems healthy, would you like to know the gender?â Mu Qingfang asked softly.
The gender?! They can tell those things at seven months? Scratch that, how the hell could Mu Qingfang tell? What sort of bullshit handwaving did he do in the past regarding this worldâs magic?
Oh shit, Mu Qingfang was expecting an answer.
âYes,â Shang Qinghuaâs voice sounded fine. Totally fine. It was not so high that it sounded like a pre-pubescent boyâs. Nope. He was calm. So calm. Calm as a cucumber. Haha. Fuck, Cucumber-Bro was going to ream him up and down for his stupidity.
âCongratulations, youâre having a boy.â
âA boy.â He repeated. An heir. Mobe-Junâs heir. Holy fucking shit. âIâm gonna faint.â
And then it was lights out.
Eventually he leaves Mu Qingfang with medicinal herbs that were the equivalent of prenatals. Like it mattered now! Itâs not like Shang Qinghua hadnât been eating junk this entire time (heâs practiced inedia more times than he could count on one hand.) He was given instructions not to put too much stress on his body--as if Mu Qingfang didnât know which peak Shang Qinghua was lord of!
Shit, what was he going to do? Hide it, duh. But then what? And then there was Mobei-Jun. His King. His favorite. The demon whos weird gem baby he was carrying. A boy. An heir.
âFuck me,â He groans as he enters his leisure house. âWhat am I supposed to doooooo?â He begins to pace the main living space of his home. âSurprise, my King, Iâm with child? Please, heâd probably get angry at that. What about--My King, remember that gem you gifted me months ago? Well apparently us both touching it made me pregnant. You gave me the gemâŠwhich I guess would be the equivalent of your seed? How does this even work! I donât have a uterus. WaitâŠâ
If he was pregnant then he now had a sparkling new uterus (with fetus included, free of charge!). Shang Qinghua was scared what giving birth would be like. He wasnât sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.
âOkay, I can say my King, Iâm carrying your heir. Ugh, that sounds awful.â
The opening of his bedroom door makes him screech. Because his life was a poorly written fanfiction with all the stereotypes. And Mobe-Jun was right there, having heard everything.
Mobei Jun saw the mess that was Xiang Fei's apartment, thought back to when Shang Qinghua was going to go somewhere 'far away' when the system gave him a return home button and think "This? This was what you were gonna leave me for??"
The first bullet grazes Mo Beijunâs ear before the teapot finishes whistling.
His body moves. Knife sweeps. Kettle drops; steam screams.
One intruder hits the counter.
Second collapses against the fridge.
Third shatters the kitchen window.
Fourth gets two steps into the hallway before his throat opens like a second smile.
Silence returns too fast.
Blood stains the tile.
The first team dies in his kitchen.
The second dies in his driveway.
The third never makes it past the garden.
All this after a decade of quiet.
Retirement had been a good fit for Mo Beijun. But being normal was a costume.
He checks pulses out of habitânot hope.
Then he lights a match.
The house goes up in a sigh of kindling. He leaves without looking back.
***
Chengdu greets him with wet pavement and too many bicycles.
Steam off street food stalls curls into the morning like ghosts.
He blends in easily in a plain coat, with a tired expression. Everyone here looks like they woke up from the dream of a better life.
Shang Qinghua wasnât easy to find.
He wasnât easy to find five years ago, either. But Mo Beijun had already done the work then, quietly, without admitting why even to himself. He just needed to know where Shang Qinghua was at all times.
Insurance, maybe. Or instinct.
Heâs never physically seen his handler. Shang Qinghua had been the voice in his ear.
Sharp, anxious, brilliant. Coward in body, assassin in thought. He guided monsters without being one.
They donât make handlers like him anymore. And they definitely donât allow them to live long.
If someone came to cut loose ends, the man in the chair would be next.
The apartment building isnât special. Itâs ugly, boxy, the color of old noodles.
Perfect.
Life hides in ugly places.
He knocksâtwo sharp, controlled sounds. Then he waits. It doesnât take long.
Metal scrapes.
Locks rattle.
A quietly muttered prayer or curseâhard to tell.
The door cracks open.
A set of wide peach blossom eyes.
Messy hair.
A hoodie.
The softest face Mo Beijun has ever seen peers out like a rabbit at a wolf. The sight makes his jaw ache with the urge to bite.
âUh,â the rabbit says, blinking rapidly, âHi?â
This⊠is not Shang Qinghua.
Except it is. This creature is⊠irresponsible softness. Survival through harmlessness. Weaponized mundanity.
An adorable security hazard.
This is not what he expected.
ââŠShang Qinghua.â
The man makes a noise like a deflating balloon.
âW-what? No! Wrong apartment, haha. Iâm Xiang Fei. And you areâwhoa, are you a building with a pulse? Did someone grow you in a lab?â
âI was attacked late last night.â
âThatâsâŠterrible? Sorry, Iâm just going to close my door andââ
âMy name is Mo Beijun.â
Recognition hits the small man like gravity.
ââŠMy King?â
Mo Beijun says nothing. He doesnât need to.
Xiang Fei physically malfunctions for a brief moment. Before the door opens fully in pure instinctual obedience and panic.
âOkay, get in before someone sees you.â He ushers him in like this is normal hospitality.
Inside smells like jasmine tea, screen heat, and exhaustion.
Monitors line a wallâblinking, breathing, attentive.
Piles of tech, cables, notebooks with angry scribbles about encryption protocols, and a blanket nest in the corner looking like a rodents burrow.
Thereâs a forgotten plate of dim sum on the coffee table. Xiang Fei stuffs a cold dumpling in his mouth to handle stress.
Then immediately starts fluttering around checking windows and locks.
âYou, uh, want slippers? I only have bunny ones in your size. They have ears.â
Xiang Fei freezes like prey realizing it spoke aloud. âI meantâŠnever mind.â
He looks nothing like the legendary Shang Qinghua, handler to monsters.
He looks like someone who gets carded buying cough drops.
Mo Beijun finally says, âYouâre smaller than I expected.â
Xiang Fei pauses in what heâs doing. âAnd youâre a brick house. Want some tea? Though I feel like we need something stronger though.â
âMm.â
He hands Mo Beijun an unopened bottle of water before popping open an energy drink and taking a large swig.
âSomeone finally pulled the trigger, huh? I knew retirement was a social construct.â
âProfessional strike team,â Mo Beijun confirms. âClean. No insignia.â
âOkay, so, R.E.D notice?â
âMm, more than likely.â
âFantastic.â
Shang Qinghua does not work like other intelligence assets.
He doesnât posture.
Doesnât brag.
Doesnât demand constant reassurance or special treatment.
He sits. Tucks one knee up under himself in the spinning chair like a small animal making a nest. Pulls his hoodie sleeves over his hands. Takes one quiet, steadying breath.
Then the air around him changes.
Jitters melt into calculation.
His eyes sharpen.
He begins typing.
Not fast but precise. Controlled. Deliberate. The way Mo Beijun kills: no wasted movement.
âAlright,â Xiang Fei murmurs, tone settling into the cadence Mo Beijun recognizes from comm lines. âRetired âspecial agentsâ donât stay retired.â
Mo Beijun stands behind him, arms folded. âPayment trail?â
âMmhm.â Tap, tap. âEncrypted, professional, arrogant. Definitely someone from the old circles. Andââ
A window opens.
Financial data, dead-end shell companies, then a name flashes beneath the code.
Xiang Feiâs fingers stop.
His voice goes soft and flat, all humor drained: ââŠMo Lin Guangjun.â
Mo Beijunâs jaw tightens.
Xiang Fei slowly exhales.
âWell,â he says lightly, voice trembling at the edges, ânothing like attempted fratricide to start a morning. Couldnât he just send a postcard?â
Mo Beijun says nothing.
Xiang Fei looks up at him.
âWeâre calling the others,â Xiang Fei declares, opening a secure channel. âJunshang, Shen Qingqiu, War God, The Saintess. The idiotsâ reunion tour starts now.â
Then, quietly, like the words slipped out before he could guard them, âIâm glad you came to me first.â
Mo Beijun doesnât soften.
But something in him locks into place â immutable, cold, protective.
He looks at him.
At the delicate hands. The sweater sleeves hiding trembling. The weakness that is not weakness but survival in a world that eats softness.
âI will always come to you first.â
Xiang Feiâs ears pink. He covers it by tapping a final command. âThen letâs do it like old times. I find him. You end him. We make this notice disappear and all pretend weâre retired again in two weeks.â
Then he clears his throat aggressively like he needs to re-install his defenses.
âOkay. Give me five minutes. I need to change out of my depression outfit and into my âsomeone wants me dead againâ outfit. Spoiler: itâs the same outfit but with better socks.â
Mo Beijun watches him scurry around the room.
He should be thinking about operational logistics.
He is instead thinking about how small bites would fit along Xiang Feiâs jawline.
Later.
For nowâ
âXiang Fei,â he calls.
Xiang Fei pauses, hoodie half-over his head, hair sticking up like a startled kitten.
âYes?â
âThank you.â
Xiang Feiâs expression shifts. It softens even further, sincere and too lovely. It took all of Mo Beijunâs restraint to hold himself back. âYouâre welcome.â
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