#benoit blanc fanfiction

[starryevermore]

Hey I’m a new knives out/glass onion/Benoit blanc enthusiast and I noticed your requests were open. I was thinking about Benoit being very easily flustered around his s/o (always blushing, being at loss of word) and maybe how others around him react to THE Benoit blanc just turning into mush whenever his little human is around 🙃 you can do whatever you want with that, I just thought it was a fun idea

lovestruck detective ✧ benoit blanc

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Hey I’m a new knives out/glass onion/Benoit blanc enthusiast and I noticed your requests were open. I was thinking about Benoit being very easily flustered around his s/o (always blushing, being at loss of word) and maybe how others around him react to THE Benoit blanc just turning into mush whenever his little human is around 🙃 you can do whatever you want with that, I just thought it was a fun idea  - anon

pairing: benoit blanc x male!reader

word count: 457

warnings?: fluff, not proofread

it was almost comical, how flustered blanc got around you. how the usually calm, collected man would trip over his words. how his face would burn red. how he’d forget what he was doing the moment he laid eyes on you. 

in your not-so-humble opinion, that was the true marker of someone being in love. your mother had always told you, don’t trust a man who’s suave and can sweet-talk you into anything. those kind of men don’t care about you. those kind of men only care about what you’ll for them. no, no, she’d say, fall for the man who’ll trip over their own feet when they see you. fall for the man who can’t think straight because you occupy his mind. fall for the man who’d move the heavens and the earth just to see you smile.

when you first met blanc, it was at some stuffy party. a friend of his invited him, apparently in an effort to get the stoic man to lighten up a little. you had gone to network. both of you ended up bored out of your minds at the open bar. you caught his eye as you flagged down a bartender. he spilled his bourbon straight down his shirt. you laughed so hard you snorted. that night, you left with his number and a promise that he wouldn’t make another mess like that again. 

except, well, he did. he took you out to dinner, a real nice restaurant with a menu of foods you could hardly fathom the pronunciation of. he offered to order something for you, and you agreed. but when the waiter came, blanc was too busy staring at you to notice. when he finally did order, he stammered his entire way through until he was red in the face. he was so flustered that, when the food arrived, he ended up dropping his entire plate on his lap. you still didn’t understand how he managed to do that. 

people hardly understood how a man like benoit blanc could get so tongue-tied and starry-eyed around you. they’d always comment to you that he wasn’t what they expected. that they expected someone like james bond or batman. someone who didn’t let their feelings show very often. and, to be honest, that was usually true. blanc wouldn’t have the career he did if he wore his heart on his sleeve. but you brought out a side of him that he couldn’t hide—that he didn’t want to hide. 

so, yeah, blanc became something of a lovestruck full around you. he’d turn completely to mush the second he was with you. but you loved every second. because you’d be lying if you said you weren’t the exact same around him. 

[babydin]

Night Crawling

- The CRACKSHIP you didn't know you needed - Benoit Blanc of the Knives Out mysteries and Tim Rockford of the Merge Manson franchise. - 18+, minors DNI! - Old queers solve murder as foreplay. Mentions of murder, descriptions of violence, MLM, swearing, Lovers to enemies to lovers - 1238 words - Comments/likes appreciated. Requests are open! A/N: Do I need to apologize for this? I won't. I can't promise I won't forget about the plot and just make this all about old queers This is part 1 of until I say it's over.

A sleepwalking man thinks he is in love with his best friend’s wife. One day he phones the police on himself because he wakes up covered in blood and his best friend’s wife is missing. He also hires a private detective to prove his innocence. What he doesn't know is the Gentleman Sleuth he called and the detective assigned to his case were lovers once, and tensions are high.

ONE: STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED AT SEA

 “Explain this to me one more time.”   Detective Tim Rockford rubbed his index finger over his lips as he pulled the car up to the crime scene.  He had seen his fair share of strange cases in his career, but this one had to have taken the lead for the weirdest one yet, so far at least. “The suspect sleepwalks,” his partner explained, tying her hair up into a tight pony, “he believes he’s in love with his best friend’s girl… now she’s missing and he just woke up covered in blood.” “And he called 911 himself?” Tim started to get out of the car after popping a tab of nicotine gum for a habit he told himself he was going to quit but never quite could. “Uh, yeah, he did – Tim, there’s something else…” Tim didn’t listen, he was already on the path up to the house. One thing about Detective Rockford, in the years Katie had known him, is that he marched to the beat of his own drum. Often because he was right. He was a good detective, a great detective in fact, but sometimes people weren’t his forte. She often wondered if that was why she had been partnered up with him, she was incredibly empathic, she was gentle, and Tim was rough around the edges, he thought in facts and logic. He still called her Rookie despite her coming up to a decade on the force, sometimes she thought it was his way of expressing affection.

   “What the fuck is he doing here?” Tim’s interjection when he saw someone on the scene who didn’t belong had the room filling with silence. Forensics staff paused briefly before continuing on, the suspect who was trembling in the corner looked between Tim and the other male. Benoit Blanc was not dressed for a crime scene, he very rarely was, he looked like he had just stepped off of a boat in Miami, with his linen pants and pastel pink shirt that was slightly open to make room for a neckerchief. He looked at Tim with eyes that were greeting an old friend who had just returned home from the war.  “What is that Kentucky-fried chicken shit doing at my crime scene?” “I tried to tell you.” Katie whispered under her breath, at the same time Benoit pushed his round, tortoise-shell spectacles up his nose and said “Well, come on now Detective Rockford, I was invited.”  Tim’s eyes flew to the suspect, his eyes burned into him like lasers and he silently demanded answers, but he did not give the man time to answer before he barked at his colleagues, “Why is he not in handcuffs? Get him out of here. Blanc, a word?”

Benoit knew Tim well enough to know when he was demanding and when he was asking, and that was a demand, he watched him slip away into a room with nobody in it and politely nodded at Tim’s partner before following behind him. The door closed. They were alone.

It wasn’t just that the private detective and the NYPD detective had worked together and didn’t get along, this wasn’t a clash of personalities or Tim thinking he was doing real detective work and Benoit was just a hobbyist. They were lovers once. They had met on a case almost 15 years ago, and their passion for solving a puzzle was almost like foreplay; they’d stay up until the smallest hours of the night, eating Chinese take out and trying to look for clues, the way Benoit would slip out of his suspenders and let them hang down by his thighs would drive Tim insane, then he’d bite into a spring roll and curse a stray splash of soy sauce and he’d suddenly see something they’d both missed and there’d be a sudden clash of teeth and egg fried rice spilled on the floor and race to see who could get the other’s pants off the quickest. Benoit always got a kick out of how gruff Tim was, how rough he was, but he was surprisingly gentle in the afterglow. But Tim’s edges got a little too rough, the long nights got too long, and Tim started to prefer solving cases alone, and when Benoit asked him why he couldn’t give him a reason, he just shrugged coldly and told him he had to go. Benoit told him he wouldn’t be there when he got back, the implication that he meant in their house that they had laughed in and loved in, that Benoit had filled with antiques and Tim had filled with books. And it wouldn’t just be for one night. He was telling him, without saying it, that their relationship was over. And Tim just looked over his shoulder without looking him in the eye and said “Fine.”

7 years later they were together again, and the tension was thicker than gravy.

  “What in the fuck are you doing here?” Tim barked, placing his hands on his hips, his fingers lucid as if that might make him appear more intimidating. Benoit leaned his rear against a nearby table and stretched out his legs to cross them, his arms folding across his chest, both men trying to appear as unapproachable as possible to hide the fact they wanted nothing more than to embrace, “A man sleepwalks, every night for 25 years, not only that, he also seems to have himself convinced he’s in love with his best friend’s wife–” “Blanc–” “--Now our suspect wakes up from his nighttime stroll, spattered with blood–” “Blanc–” “--best friend brayin’ on his door hollin’ about his wife not bein’ in bed when he woke up this mornin’--” “Benny!”

The nickname stopped him in his tracks. His face softened and he looked at Tim as if he was sorry for something; he had missed hearing him call him that, he didn’t know until that moment. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Despite the harshness of the words, the question was a lot softer this time,and somewhere Benoit knew that in his own Rockford way it was him asking where he had been, how he had been, how he managed to land this case. “I was invited.” Benoit echoed his previous words firmly, in that accent that just melted the ice around Tim’s heart. “I’m not stalkin’ you, I’m not here to dig up old ghost, or rekindle any flames. I’m here ‘cause I was asked. That delightful man you just put in handcuffs called me. I haven’t quite figured out why you and I must always end in handcuffs–” Tim was already frowning, although Benoit had learned not to take it personally. Tim’s brow creased a lot, he had a permanently concerned expression on his face, his forehead always so heavy, he often wondered if it was a con of the job. “The suspect called you?” Benoit nodded, “I have heralded quite the reputation for my detective work, don’t sound so surprised Timothy.” “He called 911 himself.. Too.. Is that not odd?” The Southerner’s lips twitched into a smile, and he shrugged his shoulders in a ‘kind of’ manner, “Stranger things have happened at sea. Admit it.” “What? I’ve never been to sea.” “No… You missed this. Didn't you?” Tim was stubborn as a mule but Benoit knew all his tells and the way the left side of his upper lip twitched upwards just a little, was a reluctant yes.

[starberrysap]

when i get too far into my headcanons that i forget i’m the only person in the world who thinks that benoit blanc of knives out fame is the estranged gay uncle (first cousin once removed) of bernard dowd of dc robin boyfriend fame

[maeze03]

Why am I being called out like this??!

[salty-dracon]

One little thing I love about the Benoit Blanc films is that they're not afraid to incorporate modern conveniences in a way that just wouldn't be possible in a pre-smartphone or pre-modern era. There really is no replacement for the role of the Google Alerts (or just Google in general) in Glass Onion, for instance.

But that also makes me think about how many incomprehensible elements of modern culture I can efficiently work into a murder mystery. Which led me to write this absolutely ridiculous passage about a scene from a hypothetical Benoit Blanc movie...

---

The group of suspects huddled about each other in the hospital's cafeteria. Some were wearing white coats while others wore blue scrubs.

Two nurses in scrubs sat close to each other, silently watching the chaos.

"I believe you."

Morgan turned her head at the sudden words. Her friend and coworker Ellie Woods, sitting next to her, emotion barely registering on her face, had uttered them.

"You believe me?" Morgan asked, her voice tinged with hope.

"I know you didn't slip poison into his IV bag." Ellie continued to stare straight ahead, saying nothing. "I don't want to believe it."

Morgan's face fell. "That's... not the same as believing me."

"Sorry." Ellie's face wrinkled. "But the truth is-"

The two fell to silence once more as the great detective walked into the room. The rest of the room hushed immediately, including the three police officers who were guarding the group.

"I have gathered you all here," Benoit Blanc began, wrapping his arms behind his back, "to fully expound upon the truth of the murder of Edward Riverton."

"We already know who did it." The lead police detective stepped up. "The murder occurred between 7:00 and 7:15 PM based on the time the victim's watch stopped, and there was only one member of the hospital staff who doesn't have a confirmed alibi for that time." He motioned to Morgan, who dejectedly looked down at her lap. Ellie protectively put an arm around Morgan's shoulder.

"Then let's clear that up first." Blanc shook his head. "Morgan does indeed have an alibi for the period of time between 7:00 and 7:15 PM."

"I do?" Morgan asked. Her eyes widened with the realization of what was to come out of his mouth next. "No. No no no no no. Please don't say it."

"Morgan, they're accusing you of murder!" Ellie exclaimed.

Morgan's voice was panicked. "If I lose my job-"

"Just say it!" Ellie shouted.

"Ms. Woods, of course, knows what I'm talking about-" - Ellie jumped at the mention of her name - "but she would never elaborate out of respect for her friend. Now, Ms. Morgan Fitzgerald, would you please open up your Genshin Impact account and navigate to the pulls?"

Morgan gave a sad huff and opened the app on her phone. She showed it to the group with a dejected look on her face. There were 0 primogems left.

"Morgan!" Dr. Anderson's furious voice shocked her. "I told you, no feeding your gambling addiction when you're on the clock!"

"As you can see," Benoit continued, "Morgan, having been called in on the day the new patch of her favorite gacha game was coming out, ran down to her locker in the basement, pulled out her phone, and ran to the women's bathroom at precisely 7:00 PM. There, she immediately spent all of her gacha currency on the banner that had just come out, which took her approximately 10 minutes. I can only imagine it didn't go well, but of course she couldn't explain that in view of her boss Doctor Anderson, who had threatened to fire her if he caught her 'feeding her gambling addiction' again."

[Morgan walked back to the cafeteria at 7:15, with a sullen and dejected look on her face. Ellie and Dr. Anderson were eating dinner at separate tables.

"Hey," Ellie whispered, "how'd it go?"

Morgan shook her head, saying nothing.]

Morgan gave a sheepish grin at Dr. Anderson's glare.

"Oh my god, I thought you were lying," Ellie said. "You should have just shown me your damn account."

"We were both with Dr. Anderson all day. I didn't have a chance." She pressed her lips into a thin line, before whispering, "Constellation 3."

Ellie's mouth dropped open. "You lost all four 50/50s?" she whispered in disbelief.

"Yeah." She lowered her voice to a grumble. "Pulled Diluc twice."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Ellie's voice carried the casual sympathy that only a fellow fan would have.

"Needless to say," Benoit continued, "now that everyone has an alibi, it only follows that the murder was not committed between 7:00 and 7:15 as previously assumed. So," he said, walking back towards the center of the circle, "what actually happened? And how did the killer manage to falsify the time of death?"

(Note: I imagine that the viewer spends most of this hypothetical movie thinking that Morgan's supposed gambling problem involves her blowing away all of her money at casinos and slot machines or something. This is the first strict reveal that her gambling addiction is strictly an addiction to gacha games. And she's F2P.)

[cartograffiti]

I Am Not Batman

Fandom: Benoit Blanc mysteries, Knives Out series, Batman Rated: T No archive warnings apply Word count: 886 - Featuring: Benoit Blanc, Bruce Wayne - Benoit Blanc attends a Christmas party at Wayne Manor and things get off to a bad start.

A crack treated seriously crossover written for the Battleship Exchange 2024.

[wolverton]

VIRGIN MARGARITA

by tenderising & wolverton

T | Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter + Benoit Blanc/Phillip | WIP

SUMMARY:

Somewhere in Cuba at the height of summer, a man is missing and with him, a special cocktail recipe that divided the populace. The world-renowned detective Benoit Blanc is on the case with his part-time sidekick and full-time husband Phillip. On the other side of town, Hannibal Lecter—who does not yet know he is about to become a murder suspect, but would not find it all that surprising if he did—is beginning to experience the consequences of his actions in unprecedented ways. The love of his life, Will Graham, claims that karma waits for no one.

Summer domestics in the heart of Cuba, a murder mystery, and crack that is only occasionally treated seriously, brought to you lovingly in collaboration with @tenderising <3

READ ON AO3

[bonkwosher]

OHMYGOD I HAVE POLLS

I'm gauging interest for which I should write this weekend & requests I should prioritize in general! Requests are still open too if you want to request more!

[iwriteweightgainbullshit]

Okay okay, I know I said this before but I fr want to start writing again, but just at a slow tempo. Not hurry anything yk? So anyways. I mostly write weight gain stories but if anyone would like anything else hit me up.

Please send me requests :)

What you can request:

-Marvel (pretty much every character, but I mostly write bucky and Steve)

-stranger things (only male)

-star wars (obi-wan, anakin (or darth vader) and padme)

-brookyln nine nine (all characters)

-the office (all characters)

-panic! At the disco

-twenty one pilots

-knives out (benoit blanc, Marta and Benoit's boyfriend who's name I cant think of for a sec)

-Bo Burnham

If you want anything that's not on the list just ask :)

I am okay with writing about pretty much every kink but some things I'd like to discuss first.

That's all for now :)

[audiofanficpod]

Murder and a Sweet Manhattan

Written and read by @thebobblehat

Please leave the author a comment if you enjoyed their story 😘

[starryevermore]

Hi. Could you write Benoit Blanc x gn reader (platonic). Like they are at the party and they see their friend's bf cheating, so they take him out to "talk" to him. Reader is trying not to punch him, but after he says something awful to reader Blanc punches him. Thank you.

vaguely southern gentleman ✧ benoit blanc

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Hi. Could you write Benoit Blanc x gn reader (platonic). Like they are at the party and they see their friend's bf cheating, so they take him out to "talk" to him. Reader is trying not to punch him, but after he says something awful to reader Blanc punches him. Thank you. - anon

pairing: benoit blanc x gn!reader (platonic)

word count: 654

warnings?: not proofread

“I can’t believe that asshole,” you muttered to Blanc. “Doing this shit? In public? He’s fucking asking to get caught.”

Your friend—world’s greatest detective, Benoit Blanc—followed your gaze as he sipped his drink. “Folks like him never think they’re gonna get caught.”

“We need to do something.” You lifted your phone, snapping a picture of him as he leaned into some blonde, his lips so close that they were nearly locked together. You would probably need proof of this. Scumbags like him are all about that gaslighting bullshit. “Katie would want us to do something.”

Blanc looked at you, his brow arching. “I ain’t been in a dogfight in some time. I’m a bit rusty.”

You rolled your eyes, punching him in the arm. “I meant, like, talk to him or something. You know, you use that vaguely Southern charm of yours to lure him outside and we confront him. Tell him he’s a piece of shit and to leave Katie before we make his life miserable or something.”

“Vaguely Southern?” Blanc repeated.

“I can’t figure out if you’re, like, a British person putting on a Southern accent or if you’re from some really out of the way part of Georgia or Alabama. I don’t know. Sounds equal parts fake and believable.”

Blanc shook his head at you then turned back to the scumbag. “I’ll lure him out. I’ll meet you on the balcony with him in, say, five minutes?”

“The Benoit Blanc I know and love will have him out in less than two,” you teased. You set your drink down, deciding you no longer wanted to finish it, wanting some vague semblance of sobriety for what would happen next. You gave Blanc a pat on the back, then walked away. 

True to his nature, Blanc had that piece of shit on the balcony in just under two minutes. The man stared at you with the best sneer he could muster. If you were being honest, it looked more like a dog took a shit under his nose than it did anything remotely intimidating. You arched a brow at him.

“You got a whole lotta nerve thinking you can do this shit in public and think no one’ll find out,” you said. 

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s what this is about? Piss off.”

Your fingers curled into a fist. “Really? That’s what you’re gonna say? Not even gonna try to justify your actions?”

He shrugged. “Why should I? Maybe if your friend was more fun, I wouldn’t have to find pleasure elsewhere.”

Blanc took a step closer to you, watching you closely. He knew you well, knew you well enough to know the rage was simmering just below the surface. He knew you well enough to know you were seconds away from lashing out. 

The scumbag stepped closer, too. His sneer shifted into a smirk, his disgusting eyes raking over you. “You know, if you’re ever looking for a good time—”

“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be a prude. Everyone knows that you love being passed around all of our friends—”

Your jaw dropped. Your mind raced as you tried to figure out the best, most efficient way to rip his ass apart when Blanc became a blur beside you. He surged forward, his fist connecting with the piece of shit’s stupid fucking face. The dumbass crumpled to the floor. 

You glanced between the unconscious man and your friend. “…I thought it’s been a while since you were in a dogfight.”

Blanc’s mouth twitched into a smile. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping at the blood on his knuckles. “Wasn’t much of a dogfight, was it?”

“I suppose not.” You looked back at the dumbass, then started to walk off the balcony. “C’mon, we should probably go find Katie and tell her what’s up before he wakes up and starts spewing shit.”

[butyoucouldberadiant]

I LOVE this!!!

I imagine things go about the same in the North Pole with the whole “women can’t learn water bending thing,” though maybe there are more open minds since she’s “the avatar.” The fire nation invading the North Pole goes worse since Aang’s not there to go into the avatar state, though. Katara and Sokka worry that they’re in over their heads and feel like the North Pole was counting on them and that they let them down, and they think about going home.

En route, they end up meeting Toph anyway cause Sokka wants to go see the match (or maybe Katara suggests it to cheer him up since his girlfriend turned into the moon) when they’re in her town. Someone says, “hey, aren’t you the avatar?” to Katara while Toph is around and somehow they get to talking and Katara and Sokka admit the truth to Toph and how they’re giving up. Toph is like “pfft, that’s dumb. Has anything changed? I still don’t see an avatar coming to save us. Sounds like we need to do it ourselves,” (probably the most canon divergent part since she needed to be convinced to come, but she also hates it at home. Oh nooooo, I’ll have to rewatch the ep and get some ideas XD). So they decide to continue but to try to get more help. Toph is very down for helping Katara pretend to be the avatar, so she joins them, and they go around looking for more help and running into shenanigans.

For air, I’d love it if they find someone who didn’t know they were of air bender descent (someone from the fire nation specifically would be super cool!!! Or like that fan theory that Ty Lee is of air bender descent; she could defect, maybe at the same time as Zuko so they’re both uncomfy or so he can be jealous of how easily she fits into the group), but someone whose family escaped the genocide and has been keeping up their bending in hiding would also be cool.

Even by the time Zuko finally joins them, they’ve somehow still managed to hide the fact that Katara isn’t the avatar from most of the world. They keep it from him even once he joins them, trying to make sure they trust him. Finally, either they decide to tell him or he figures it out when Toph or the air bender clearly bends when it would have been easier for Katara to do it, if she could. Zuko is absolutely baffled. Like, he’s not okay for several days. It was one thing when the avatar’s team was just a ragtag bunch of minors and had managed to evade his whole country, but the fact that a random teen with no mystical powers was able to cause such a problem is just too much. When they explain that they need his job to be faking that Katara knows firebending, he has 5,000 reasons why it won’t work. But, eventually he agrees.

Sokka and Teo inventing stuff will be invaluable tbh - I think she’ll eventually need a flame thrower to be convincing. Maybe Teo comes with them, or maybe he just gives them a couple ideas and Sokka is sole team inventor, as in the normal universe.

As for ships, I’m not sure. Zutara might be a fun enemies to lovers, but I feel like some of why they feel like a good match in the original universe involved a certain amount of… open ness? The strongest example I can think of atm is when they’re imprisoned together in Ba Sing Se, but the point is that him thinking she’s the avatar and that he needs to capture her is very different from thinking she’s just on the avatar’s team. Her guard’s as high as it can be already (unless he were to actually be the one who killed her mom), but that would definitely be an obstacle, I think. I’m not sure they’d be able to open up enough in this AU to have the seeds earlier on, so it might be less feasible or at least a much slower build (which could be good depending on how you do it… I’d honestly be really interested to see it play out).

Avatar AU where Aang stays in the iceberg and Katara is mistakenly believed to be the Avatar after she “earthbends” a rock by moving the ice inside it.

Instead of telling the truth and letting everyone down, she and Sokka pull on an elaborate charade and go on a journey to convince the world that the Avatar is back.

[alexjcrowley]

Yesterday night I felt sick with my stomach and stayed awake all night making audio recordings to my best friend about watching Quantum of Solace for the first time (I am still finishing it) and then I started randomly talking about 00q and accidentally opened up the Pandora Box of my memories but I instantly remembered everything I ever knew about 00q like when it got adopted by the BBC Sherlock fandom or the Paddington is the new Quartermaster stuff or when everybody was obsessed with the fucking Téméraire and it was EVERYWHERE and everybody made the joke "It's a ship!!!" and the age difference discourse between James and Q and Q being called Quentin and Mycroft and Sherlock being Q older brothers and disapproving of his relationship with James Bond and the fucking tea mugs and so many cats and everybody talking about Q's jumpers and making up OC minions for him and every fanfiction in which James retires to be with Q because he was the only one he ever loved aside from Vesper and Q feeling insecure because of her and all then Madeleine Sawnn came along and everybody was distraught even though the flirting was there in Spectre and we were all distraught because we could have had it all and so many fix it fics so many fics about James cosntantly loosing his gadgets and how hard it was for Q to watch him seduce other people and everybody was saying they were grumpy x sunshine/black cat x Golden retriver coded BUT THEY WERE NOT ACTUALLY in my humble opinion but they were easily flustered x flirting menace and Q had such salty one-liners and everybody believed he was a posh boy and do you remember when years later you had the same museum scene with Hannibal it was clearly a parallel and then there was No Time To Die and Q was officially queer oh my God oh my fucking God it was CANON he TOTALLY CANONICALLY MUST HAVE HAD A CRUSH ON BOND and we saw THE CATS and WHO WAS Q WAITING FOR?????? James must have been jealous but then the movie was what it was and a lot of people hated it and all of the fix it fics in which Bond said his last words to Q because it was always Q it will always be Q and also everybody making up names for him names were such a huge deal Q revealing his name to James in his last moments grieving fics in which James died but you also had silly ones and spicy ones uhhh a lot of those because sometimes you just need to ignore canon and see them happy and maybe both retiring or maybe they kept working flirting over the comms and annoying everyone at MI6 which wasn't exactly Avengers "Everybody Lives in The Tower" au but it was close they weren't a found family per se but some of them were very close there used to be edits on youtube yeah before TikTok came along youtube edits were A ThingTM with all those retrica-looking filters and pop songs or sad love songs and fake trailers who remembers those or like scenes edited to look like they were from a romcom and comments on the scenes written in small usually white text that were meant to reflect the character inner thoughts like "That's hot" or "He's so annoying I need to kiss him" or "BITCH" and fics in which Q was kidnapped and James went berserk and a few years ago Knives Out came out and we tried to to have Bond and Benoit Blanc related do you also remember that?

[morningstargirl666]

I can’t really tell you how much I love this? Like I have a very real compulsion to start blurting out the lyrics of I Need More from the Cyrano musical soundtrack because I am feeling a lot of emotions rn.

I’m in a very angsty mood for fanfic today and this just fulfilled all my dark desires. Klaus (sort of) stalking Caroline because he wants to keep an eye on her? Possibly worried she’d come to harm? Break me. Rushing to her house when he hears her crying, believing she’s in danger? FUCKING RIP OUT MY HEART WHY DON’T YOU

And then everything that follows - Caroline absolutely wrecking him as she attacks him in a hysterical mess, leaving Klaus honestly so shocked because who in their right mind attacks him, and then the sobbing, and Klaus not knowing quite what to do, and Caroline actually feeling safe enough in his grasp to seek out comfort...

Thank you for destroying me so utterly this fine day, it was very enjoyable, and I think my heart is in shattered pieces on the floor, but I’ll gladly ask you to do it again because it’s sooooo good.

Now excuse me while I go scream into a pillow.

So I posted little excepts from some fics that I work on as a warm-up when I'm struggling with Red Queen. There's a time travel one and a serial killer one. Neither of them have titles (well the serial killer one has a really campy working title but that doesn't count).

Anyway I'm bored, so here's the first chapter of the serial killer one. Lemme know what y'all think.

Chapter 1: Villain

It wasn’t that he intended to stalk her.

Even Klaus knew how incredibly fake that sounded, but really, he didn’t keep tabs on where Caroline Forbes was and who she was with at all times—just, you know, when there was clear and present danger in Mystic Falls.

Which was practically always.

Whatever. Niklaus Mikaelson, hybrid king feared across the supernatural world for centuries, was not one to show chagrin at the accusation that he had merely stalked someone.

He really wasn’t watching her on this particular occasion, however; he was just out for a walk to clear his head in the night air after a particularly useless day of Jeremy Gilbert being Jeremy Gilbert, and her street wound and turned back on itself and basically made for a longer route than its neighbors. He hadn’t intended to listen in on the goings on inside the Forbes residence either, but when he noticed the Sheriff's squad car was missing but Caroline’s car was present and the lights were on, he smiled a little, and tuned his ears in, wondering if she was listening to music or watching TV or on the phone with Elena hearing the “team good-guy” perspective of Jeremy’s day.

What he did not expect—and what took him a moment to recognize because it was so unexpected—was uncontrolled, shattering sobs. He frowned, crossing the lawn in an instant to hear more accurately. A moment more told him that not only had he heard correctly the first time, but it was indeed Caroline sobbing, and it sounded like she was wailing in pain around something that had been shoved into her mouth.

Images of unknown attackers and Caroline with a gag in her mouth blossomed crimson across Klaus’s vision, and he was inside the house and standing in her bedroom doorway before the ragged, stifled cry had ended. However, a millisecond’s scan of the room with his eyes revealed her to be completely alone, curled up tightly on her bed and rocking back and forth in distress, her own hand clamped between her teeth. Her face was a mess of makeup rivulets and puffy eyes—she looked worse than when she’d run to him in Tyler’s body, believing him dead and her boyfriend about to follow, and that was easily the worst he’d ever seen her, including the time she’d nearly died of werewolf venom. 

“Caroline?” he found himself whispering, not sure what to do. Her head jerked up, and he barely had time to register the trickles of blood along her wrist from where she’d bitten through her own skin before she was on her feet, hands shoving him back. In his surprise, she caught him off balance, and he stumbled a little before regaining his footing.

“Get out!” she shrieked, her voice cracking painfully in the middle as she lashed out, punching him in the chest with about as much force as the average human who’d had too much to drink and was therefore unsteady to begin with. It didn’t hurt him, but he caught her fist when she drew her other hand back all the same. She screamed again—not words this time, just a primal shriek as she tried unsuccessfully to wrench her hand free, before successfully backhanding him across the face. He caught her second hand and sped her up against the wall, pinning her there as she struggled and tried to kick him.

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” he growled. Even in such a state, she ought to have had the sense not to physically attack an Original, especially a hybrid. Verbal barbs or slamming of doors he’d expect out of a distraught Caroline Forbes, or if she was going to attack him (for whatever blinkered reason) slightly more skill. Shifting forward, he leaned into her, holding her against the wall, impervious to her struggles. She thrashed in his hold, kicking at his legs and feet, but when he was about as responsive as stone, she gave up, and fell limp in his grasp, head down, face shrouded by her unkempt hair as crying became her primary focus again.

After waiting a few moments to ensure that she wasn’t faking it (only to whoosh away as soon as he loosened his grip) Klaus released her wrists, picking her up in the same instant. She fell limp against his chest, the last of her energy going into curling up into herself and pressing the heels of her hands into her watering eyes. For all her violent rejection moments before, now she seemed completely unconcerned about his proximity. 

As he moved to return her to her bedroom and deposit her in bed—he’d signed up for rescuing her from attackers, not this, and for all his age and experience he’d never yet figured an effective way to deal with this—he assumed she’d simply given up on getting him off her. But when he moved to set her down, he realized that one of her hands had fisted into his jacket, tightly enough that she was stretching the leather. Perhaps giving up wasn’t quite it, he thought, as he maneuvered them so that he could sit down, then leaned back against her pile of pillows so that they were reclining with her only halfway on top of him. He did know enough to guess that no matter what he said or did, she would be unable to give a coherent response in this state, but he could be patient. 

He’d wait her out.

And then she’d damn well tell him what was wrong, and point him towards who he could kill to make it right, whether she wanted to divulge or not.

The hysterics lasted nearly an hour, and after that, she seemed to lose energy, but continued quietly weeping into his shirt for over an hour after that. By midnight she’d apparently run out of tears, but she lay limp against him, face buried in his chest, and he got the impression she’d fallen into the twilight of half-consciousness. He’d started rubbing circles into her spine with his thumb, and some time after that, she’d released his jacket, although she hadn’t retracted her hand; it lay on his chest, her cold palm flush against his heartbeat. 

-0-

Half past four in the morning appeared seconds after one, and Klaus realized to his shock that both he and Caroline had drifted off. He regained consciousness for long enough to confirm that she was, in fact, deeply asleep, and his arms were still resting securely around her such that if she tried to get up it would wake him. 

Her hand was still resting against his chest, and to his mild confusion, it was still cold. While vampires didn’t generate as much of their own heat as humans—or wolves—they would still pick up heat from resting against warm objects, same as anything else. Slowly, not wanting to wake her and provoke another fit so soon, he wrapped her hand in his; long artist’s fingers picking up the telltale signs that he’d missed earlier. Her skin was unnaturally cold, and a little rough to the touch, with a subtle hardness which, coupled with how light and slow her heartbeats were, could mean only one thing—something he’d never expected to find in a vampire who wasn’t chained up and locked in a dungeon.

Caroline Forbes was beginning to desiccate; dry up and starve surrounded by blood-filled humans. 

What the hell was happening?

He knew she had plenty of access to blood; Meredith Fell used her medical license to stockpile it on the Salvatores’ considerable dime, and the Sheriff looked the other way as long as Caroline was provided-for in the process.

So what the hell was going on? Had someone bled her out in the last 24 hours without him noticing? She did know to drink a lot after that, right? 

His mind spun, inventing horrible possibility after horrible possibility, and he had to fight to keep his arm from tightening around her and waking her. His burning need to know who he had to kill to make it better intensified with each passing second. Caroline wouldn’t just stop eating of her own accord, so someone or something was doing this to her, and he’d be damned—well, again—if he didn’t find out what.

The arrival of 4:45 announced itself rudely as Caroline’s alarm blared, echoing against the walls in a way only a vampire would notice. Caroline’s right hand remained resting in Klaus’s deliberately loose grip, but her left reached over him and unerringly turned off the alarm, ignoring the large snooze button. Klaus must’ve been more asleep than he’d thought, because the blonde pillowing her head on his chest had to have been awake to do that, and he hadn’t noticed. 

Caroline’s arm rested back on his chest immediately, and she lay still, seeming quite unbothered to find him still in her bed. Perhaps, even, trying not to wake him up. Testing his theory, he shifted a bit, re-adjusting his hold on her. She stiffened. Yeah, she’d been hoping he wasn’t awake yet. But she hadn’t made a move to pull away or get up when she thought he was still asleep; he wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“Morning, love,” he greeted her quietly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Klaus,” she grumbled in a warning tone, but still made no move to extricate herself.

“What happened last night,” he asked as calmly as he could manage.

“Don’t worry about it,” she sighed, but her heart-rate picked up and he heard her swallow. He sat up, pulling her with him and ignoring her glare of protest as he held her hand between his own, thumb running gently over her desiccating fingers.

“Don’t play that game with me,” he warned, ignoring her glare of protest. “I have never seen you in so much pain, Caroline, and I can see the what,” here he nodded towards her hands, “what I don’t have is the why. Why aren’t you eating?”

“I am,” she hissed, yanking her hand out of his and turning to put her feet on the floor. “I said don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, I heard you, and I’m going to need a bit more than that,” Klaus responded evenly. Her pulse was racing, and the last thing he needed was to push her so hard that she had another panic attack.

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped, whirling to glare at him over her shoulder.

“Sweetheart you’re starving in a stocked kitchen,” he listed, gesturing at her mini fridge with his thumb, “I heard you from down the street last night and came up because I legitimately thought you were being kidnapped and tortured, and you—who have made it perfectly clear that you find my presence irksome in the highest degree—grabbed onto me for dear life last night and are making no real effort to dislodge me now. I am not an idiot, love,” he growled. “I know that means something is desperately wrong. And I'm worrying about it.”

Caroline swallowed, breathing deeply and rubbing her eyes. Her shoulder dropped, and she looked deflated.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she finally gritted out.

“I can help,” he insisted.

“No, you really can’t,” she sighed, and although he could tell she was trying for huffy hostility, all he could hear was sorrow and exhaustion.

“Try me,” he demanded, working hard to keep the snarl out of his voice. Wasn’t it just like her to protect the person hurting her?

“No,” she responded flatly, standing up and rustling around in her dresser for some clothes. Her movements were slow and clumsy, and he saw her lips purse together as her dry, painful skin whacked the side of the drawer.

“Not doing a very convincing ‘fine,’ darling,” he commented, laying back and folding his arms behind his head casually.

“What do you want from me?” she demanded, tossing her outfit on the bed so she could throw her hands up expressively. “There’s no one for you to murder, Klaus!”

“Then there's no harm in telling me, is there?” he countered cleverly.

“What are you going to do; kidnap and torture it out of me?” she demanded, voice dripping sarcasm. “A bit counterintuitive if you ask me.”

“I would never hurt you, love,” Klaus responded, knowing she was baiting him and refusing to rise. “But,” he added, “I'm not leaving until you tell me.”

Caroline scoffed wordlessly, grabbed her clothes and flounced into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. As the shower turned on, Klaus surveyed the house with his senses, noting that Liz Forbes hadn't yet arrived home. He lay there comfortably, listening to the water run in the shower—and Caroline try and fail to control her breathing—for nearly half an hour. She dried off, blow-dried her hair (for less time than Klaus thought that ought to take, but then what did he know about blow-drying long hair) and he heard the rustle of clothes being pulled on for a moment before she let out a hiss of pain and froze in place. 

He frowned, then realized that she’d grabbed skinny jeans, and if they were nearly as hard to get into as he imagined, and her feet were in the same state as her hands, that forcing the denim over her skin would likely be extremely painful. He rubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. If she’d just tell him what the problem was, he could figure out how to fix it; in a thousand years he’d learned quite a few facts about vampires, and was confident that he could resolve the issue, whatever it was. 

Unfortunately, the vampire in question was being terribly stubborn; both in her determination not to let him help and, apparently, in her determination to wear that pair of jeans. He winced every time she made a sound of pain, which was quite a few times in the interminably long six minutes it took her to get dressed.

Finally, she exited the bathroom, doing a brief and irritated double-take when she saw him still lounging on her bed.

“You really don’t have anything better to do than sit there and wait for me to change my mind?” she grumbled as she sat down at her makeup table.

“Depends,” he countered, “like I said I’m not leaving you until you tell me, so I suppose I’ll be sitting around your high school at some point.” She whirled to glare at him in disbelief. “Or at the grill, oh, do you have cheerleading practice today?” he added with a bit of a leer. She flipped him off and he laughed. “I’m a very patient man when I want something,” he reminded her, and she wasn’t sure if that was supposed to sound like a threat or a promise.

“We’ll see about that,” she muttered, picking up her phone and sending a text message before turning back to the mirror.

“Is that a challenge, love?” he demanded playfully, wondering which of her troupe of friends she was enlisting to help her shake him off.

“Yes,” she responded coolly. “Because as you’ve noticed, I’m under the weather, so my mom is calling me out of school today. I’m going to sit here and watch makeup tutorials for the next six hours, then go downstairs, eat a tub of ice cream and watch telenovelas. If you really want to glue your immortal, hybrid ass to my bed and try your hand at boring yourself to death, be my guest.”

[the-hourglass83]

I'm finally getting the hang of this Tumblr thing so how about an intro post:

Hi, I'm Lindsay 👋 she/her

Then: I was a kid in the '80s and a teen in the '90s. I watched Nickelodeon, the Disney Afternoon and Cartoon Network, and wrote fanfiction and RPGs about it with my friends in a spiral notebook. 😆 I studied English and art in college and love to write and draw.

Now: I do communications and social media for a large U.S. retail company. Wish I had more free time to write and create for fun. My goal is to carve some time out soon to start making and posting my own stuff again. Until then, exploring your creations brings me lots of joy.

First fandom: Mystery Science Theater 3000

Current obsession: Discworld! I finally read my first of The Watch series and now going down a huuuge rabbit hole. #VetinariforPresident2024

Other favorites: 

-Disney

-Marvel

-Star Wars

-The Muppets

-Hanna Barbera

-Classic '60s toons like Rocky & Bullwinkle, Total Television and Batfink

-Obscure '80s toons like Danger Mouse, Count Duckula, Maple Town, Willy Fog, The Little Koala and The Mysterious Cities of Gold

-Detectives, especially Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, Nero Wolfe and Benoit Blanc

-Jeeves & Wooster

-Duckman

-Matt Groening's Disenchantment

-Asterix and Obelix

-The Adventures of Tintin

Tell me about you? 👇