#interesting enough story to fill like an entire book?? IDK but all these ideas have no where to go at the moment and it's making me

[alltimefail-sims]

Having a story you want to tell so bad but not having the time or talent to do so is AHFDDAKSHDJDEJEOHFKXBDKDBFKGFHDKDLOFNT UGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[nohaijiachi]

Re: your last reblog, aside from... trauma sometimes very obviously coloring people's view of things (like anon), I think one reason the fandom in general cares more about Crowley's wants and needs is that... We don't see much at all of them being met. Crowley has the Bentley, the plants, and good alcohol. At a stretch he has his fashionable clothes.

Aziraphale feels guilty for wanting the things he wants, but he still has them: the bookshop is his cozy little nest where Crowley's flat is 100% aesthetic (and yes I know it's a refuge for Crowley but it's not his home, is what I mean, in the sense that he doesn't live there); he has his books, his records, his favorite mug and his favorite tea, his shops, his restaurants where they know him by name, and so on and so forth. And he has Crowley willing to do literally anything for him bar going back to Heaven.

Of course Crowley's lack of things, of comforts, of basically anything, isn't Aziraphale's fault (to me, he's very obviously punishing himself, and he does whatever Aziraphale wants because he wants to make him happy, not because Aziraphale is making him) but I think that seeing Aziraphale having those things and Crowley having basically nothing, and then adding that point that Crowley will do anything for Aziraphale, it's kind of easy to fall into the false equivalence that Aziraphale should be providing whatever Crowley doesn't have. And don't get me wrong, it'd be nice to see Aziraphale doing more tangible stuff for Crowley because it has become kind of unbalanced (because of them BOTH, let me be clear: Crowley wanted to give Aziraphale whatever he wanted and Aziraphale didn't think too much about it becoming the status quo), but also, aside from stuff like that original temptation to Gluttony that got him started on eating, Aziraphale found those hobbies and those creature comforts by himself, he actively sought them out (case in point: the oysters) and that's what Crowley needs to do, too. (I don't know if I'm making sense here lol)

Answer under the cut to not clog y'all dashboards rip

You def make good points I find myself agreeing with. On this one thing it's much harder to figure out how Crowley feels about it, because we see a lot more of the way Aziraphale engages with his passions and hobbies than we do Crowley, that's for sure. We can argue that he likes gardening, and maybe going for long drives? We also know that book!Crowley likes watching television and has a collection of CDs so we can garner he also likes music-- but all the same we don't see him engage with these interests of his in the same way that Aziraphale clearly revels in reading and listening to records and eating.

It's easy to sort of assume that Crowley's whole existence is pretty much centered around Aziraphale and his company, because we never truly get to see him act particularly relaxed unless he's eating with Aziraphale or drinking with Aziraphale or just be around Aziraphale in general.

Personally I don't think that Crowley doesn't have other things that fill his life with joy other than Aziraphale, mostly because if that was truly the case idk how the poor demon wouldn't have lost it out of sheer boredom during the long stretches of time he spent away from Aziraphale. Is just that by both the narrative beats of the story and Crowley's sort of 'grumpy devil-may-care' attitude it is nowhere near as blatantly obvious that he enjoys being on earth and partake in all the things offered by humanity as it is for Aziraphale.

So yes, I agree this is probably one of the -many- reason why what feels like a large part of the fandom has the tendency of imagining Crowley entirely hopeless and distraught without Aziraphale, and thus to feel like Aziraphale isn't dedicating enough attention to him, or is willingly hurting him by being selfish and callous.

I don't think I've made a secret of how much I disagree with this idea, by this point. They are both extremely important for one another, obviously, and show it in all the big and small ways they've been allowed to by the precarious position they are in as technically enemies on opposite sides. But they are both also their own person with their own ideas and opinions and needs and wants that, sometimes, might not necessarily align; they are both pretty independent and capable of existing more or less satisfyingly even if they aren't in each other's pockets all the time-- So yes, I understand why a lot of people in the fandom think that Crowley is more or less a utterly lost mess that would crumble down without Aziraphale, but I don't, and I lowkey resent this interpretation of him lol.

The one thing I-- sort of disagree?? I guess, in your message, is the fact that their dynamic is unbalanced. For one Crowley is actually plenty capable of saying 'no' to Aziraphale; I'm def also guilty of feeding into this idea because it is, admittedly, really quite amusing to poke a bit of fun at Crowley's expense and call him a simp and say that Aziraphale has him wrapped around his little finger-- It is easy to sort of fall into the trap of thinking that Crowley can be commanded by Aziraphale like an errand boy, and forget that's really not the case.

Which also goes hand in hand with the second reason I don't entirely agree with the idea their dynamic is unbalanced, because I think Crowley takes great satisfaction in doing nice things for Aziraphale. So in that sense things are kept equal in the way that Aziraphale feels happy and satisfied and implicitly knows that Crowley cares for him whenever he's being catered to, and Crowley is equally satisfied by being able to kind of play the part of the attentive partner and see his angel all smiley and happy and be comforted by knowing that Aziraphale isn't afraid of being open with him about the things he wants because he trusts him.

To be clear I also a 100% want to see this happen in reverse. I want a comfortable, utterly relaxed Crowley to do his own version of puppy eyes at Aziraphale to get him to do something nice for him, and I want Aziraphale to happily, gladly do so.

I just don't think that as things between them stood up until the very end of S2 Crowley would have let himself show vulnerability, because they simply aren't quite yet in that comfortable spot in which they can say "yes, we love one another and we are together and we'll keep being together for the rest of all time without having to worry about anybody playing interference or threatening our very existence".

I don't think Crowley will manage to be so vulnerable as to openly display his desires until they reach that safety--- And at the same time I can't and won't blame Aziraphale for it. It's not Aziraphale's fault that Crowley has been forced in a spot in which he is pretty much constantly on guard and won't allow himself to fully relax, just as it isn't Crowley's fault Aziraphale hasn't been able to fully free himself of Heaven's clutch and shake off those unhealthy coping mechanisms he has. They are both stuck in a shitty position trying to make the best of it they can.

I do think part of Crowley's character arc in S3 might be him learning to lower his guard somewhat and be more emotionally open, to reach a point in which he can be as openly happy to be on Earth and enjoy it as Aziraphale is, and am definitely looking forward to it as much as I'm looking forward to Aziraphale finally actualizing his own thoughts and morals independent from whatever Heaven or even God says and fully free himself of those fears and doubts once and for all.

[summaryi]

When the Moon Hatched - Sarah A. Parker

reluctant 2/5

ok i havent finished yet but

the world is interesting so far

not enough known about characters

-------

but the one thing that might push this into DNF territory for me DESPITE THE INTERESTING WORLD

is the fucking fantasy spelling of known and existing concepts

like fucking dae and day

if you make up a creature person place concept whatever

yeah have it your way

use the beautiful spellings of faerie instead of fairy

but fucking

having to read dae which means day when the word day already exists and dae just means day

not my cup of tea

but i press on

wanna know about these moons

and the POV switches are in such tiny font compared to the rest of the text i was flipping back and forth to find it

and something just happened but im like?? i didnt have the time to get invested

so this doesnt mean anything to me

---

ive kept reading and im really torn???? some parts are breathtakingly sweet and soft, like a nostalgic memory

and some parts are

so

disjointed

huh??

i feel like a third of it is lovingly crafted

and tbe other two thirds are just slapped together to fill pages

its a weird fucking experience

-----

im fucking incensed what the hell

one of the chapters ripped my heart out and tore it into shreds

and three chapters later there are so many fucking unnecessary made up fantasy words just crammed together holy hell

was this written by two different people

and if youre going to use your own made up words

give us some fucking explanation or show and tell

if i dont know whats going on because none of the words make sense how can i fucking read jesus christ

what the hell is going on in this book

im actually pissed because the quality of the writing is so inconsistent

----

ok i finished it

am i fucking stupid? is it the kindle editions? or do all these books keep fucking putting pronunciation guides and glossaries at the back with zero indication they're there, not even a * or page at the front

maybe its a me problem but holy fuck

put the map at the back and the definitions and pronunciation at tne FRONT

AND THE FUCKING TRIGGER WARNINGS TOO WHY ARE THEY the last possible item

is it me??? am i the problem???

but like, ok, have the separate pronunciation guide and the glossary or definitions at the end

i still want some kind of BRIEF in-story explanation

people DO this to GREAT effect

it's fucking practical

and it does NOT break the stupid "show, dont tell" rule to have a character just do a quick "oh, MC is new/amnesiac/willfully ignorant, here's a 2 sentence primer"

anyways

overall, hate this book

it is NOT for me

i can sort of see why its paced and split the way it is? but also i cant

it feels very.......... it just feels like only a tiny sliver of the entire book is well polished

and the rest of it is slag, just tossed in

like????

the parts that i enjoy were enough to get me to finish the book but holy shit im pissed off

it could be so good!!!! but it's not!!!! overall the idea and the plot and all the strings are very good!!! but its so badly woven!!!!!!! except for a few shining hero moments

but what the fuck!!! it should all be equally good!!!!!!!!!!!

am i just a hater??? idk everyones fucking sucking this books dick and like

its like

a delicious meal that got dropped in a puddle full of shit

like there are pieces i liked! they were good! i see the potential! but fucking christ it was not a michelin experience and those tasty bites were not worth the rest of this meal??????? aaaaakrslhbgliugraiaubefigawrlharfk

[phantom-does-a-thing]

admittedly idk anything about slaughterhouse five apart from what you’ve just posted but I am interested to hear if u have any ideas for what bitb in that style would look like?

PHANTOM IS LITERALLY THIS RN AS WE SPEAK

ok listen ok ok ok. Slaughterhouse five is a war novel about wwii and it's told through a series of moments out of chronological order in a meaningful way that keeps jumping back and forth enough that you don't have a solid timeline of what's going on. It tells the story of Billy's life and his experience in the war but everything is jumbled out of order as Billy gets stuck and unstuck in time. And I think that would fit with BITB so well.

I don't know who it would follow, my thought would be Rand although I think there could be some really interesting stuff for Rolan. But Rand is my target here, he is my billy pilgrim in this situation. What's interesing about slaughterhouse five that I just noticed is that while everything is out of order and jumbled, The bombing of dresden and the experiences getting captured in wwii is the ONLY thing that is told in chronological order. It is cut up into pieces and sandwiched between other moments in Billy's life. Everything else is out of order and just smushed together, but the main narrative is still in chronological order which while there are still bits that jump between past and future, it leads the reader to believe that the present is supposed to be wwii. And that's what it would be for Galloway.

The stuff that happened in Galloway would be the main timeline, the main focus, the main plot. It would be the only thing told in chronological order but broken up enough that it doesn't really feel like it's that way, snippets of things from the past and the future keep coming back and forth to fill in the gaps. But as well, there's a thing in Slaughterhouse Five where "so it goes" where everything bad that happens is treated apathetically because there's an idea that comes up later in the book that even if someone dies, they're still alive in memories and for the Tralfamadorians time is stacked on top of each other, it's not linear. Everything that happens has happened and is going to happen, and has to happen. It's the entire notion of doomed by the narrative before doomed by the narrative was a THING.

This person is supposed to die, but they are still alive in the past, and since the past is happening at the same time, they aren't really dead. And that's what it would be like with what happens at Galloway. Everything is told in a way that makes no sense, but looking at it all together it would be... not understandable... but it would idk it would make a meaningful world.

"There are no telegrams on Tralfamadore. But you're right: each clump of symbols is a brief, urgent message—describing a situation, a scene. We Tralfamadorians read them all at once, not one after the other. There isn't any particular relationship between all the messages, except that the author has chosen them carefully, so that, when seen all at once, they produce an image of life that is beautiful and surprising and deep. There is no beginning, no middle, no end, no suspense, no moral, no cause, no effects. What we love in our books are the depths of many marvelous moments seen all at one time."

That's the central idea, the story being told all together, no beginning middle and end, but everything happening at once with the knowledge of what is going to come.

[floorpancakes]

i refuse to let clamp off the hook for underutilising himawari's fucking fascinating character setup and traits but on a less serious level im obsessed with the concept of her as an instigator of chaos.

like she's way less airheaded than she seems and it doesn't come off like Default Airhead Girl Behaviour or even Default Girl Companion That Ships Her Friends primarily (like not as hard as some other series by comparison I mean she's very I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE by default) specifically she just seems like someone that thoroughly enjoys being a little shit in a sincere way and giggling at her dumbass friends and has a shade of high emotional intelligence about it all. like she's just girl of all time. she's i don't know where im going with this just take this low effort meme from when i watched the holic stage play on youtube this isn't a coherent thought it's like 2am ill come up with better thoughts later

[jillianallen14]

Spirk fanfic rec

Some amazing Spirk fanfic to bless your dash because I’m falling in love with this shit all over again (this is like the 10th time this has happened lol):

Entering Orbit:  Jim escapes to Iowa to avoid the media frenzy following the Narada incident, but a late-night miscommunication results in Spock turning up on his front porch; rated m; 30,957 words

Papers in the Roadside:  Non-Starfleet AU. Jim owns a small bar in Chicago, keeps on picking up strays and taking care of everyone no matter how hard it makes his own life. Spock is a journalist writing feature articles for the Chicago Tribune; he depicts the world with uncanny skill, but hides more than one personal drama and is possibly under surveillance from the Vulcan royal family. They meet by accident just before their lives start to spin out of control; rated e; 49,637 words

Take Refuge in What You Know:  AU - Kirk has moved into a apartment/house and wants to get to know his neighbors. He meets his neighbor Spock, a loner who suffers from extreme agoraphobia. Kirk thinks he's beautiful enigma; rated e; 120,334 words

Listen, this is not only my favorite Star Trek fic of all time, it’s also one of my favorite fanfics in general. It’s right up there with Text Talk and The Shoebox Project from the HP fandom, which if you’ve read, you know are incredible and frankly life-changing. And this fanfic changed my life. The description the author gives doesn’t do the beauty of this fic justice. I suffer from agoraphobia and Spock’s depiction as an agoraphobic man was probably the most well-researched, sympathetic, empathetic, caring, realistic portrayal of what it’s like to be agoraphobic that I’ve ever witnessed in fiction. It made me cry like a child because I had never felt so seen and understood. This writer is incredible, and this fic is incredible. I can’t recommend it enough. It’s an AU, which I’m usually pretty wary about, but it barely even feels like an AU. It just feels like Jim and Spock. The author’s understanding of both of their characters’ is perfect, like just a spot-on portrayal of who they are. This fic genuinely helped me accept who I am and helped me understand that I am capable of & deserving of love. If you don’t read any other Star Trek fics (and you def should read more Star Trek fics because they’re amazing), then let this one be the one you read. I dare you not to read it three times in a row like I did.

Observations:  First Officer Spock comments on life aboard the Enterprise and his service under Captain James T. Kirk; rated m; 500,000+ words.

So the author of this fic actually did a thing where they made this fic into two books (similar to what The Shoebox Project authors did many years ago in the HP fandom). They don’t get any money from people buying the books; the cost is just to go towards producing the books. This fic is the equivalent of two LARGE novels. We’re talking 600 pages & up. It’s a huge fic. Now, that being said, I read it in one day. ONE DAY. It’s that good. This is another one of my all-time favorite fics, though not quite as dear to my heart as the one I listed above. It’s focused on AOS, and tbh, I forget that what happens in this book isn’t actually canon. Like it’s so well-told, it just feels like it’s now part of the timeless story of Kirk & Spock. The “professional” Star Trek writers would never be brave enough to do what this author does with Kirk and Spock, though. This fic will make you angry, will make you laugh, will make you cry. It has such a good grasp on every single character. It also shows the love between the crew of the Enterprise, which is always a treat, and it’s beautifully done in this fic. It has a sorta-enemies-to-lovers arc between Spirk and an enemies-to-close-friends arc between Spock and McCoy that is beautifully done and fleshed out. This fic is definitely a journey to go through, and I can’t recommend it enough. It’s extremely slow burn, and you will want to slap both Kirk and Spock (and McCoy) upside the head at certain points lol. 

Of Coffee Beans and Green Tea Leaves:  The progression of a relationship, through Coffee Beans and Green Tea Leaves. Basically, it’s an AU where Kirk works at a coffee shop to pay his way through school, and Spock visits often. rated t; 16,429 words

Love, love, love, this fic. It’s cute, it’s in character. They have kind of a rocky start together, so it’s got a little bit of that Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy i-hated-you-but-now-i-love-you-marry-me vibes to it. I’m a sucker for that, if you haven’t figured that out by now lol. It’s really good, and a really enjoyable read. And it’s not too long, if you’re in the mood for something on the shorter end of things.

 Please Don’t Touch the Vulcans:  The "yes" is out of Jim's mouth before he can think about it. Jim is chipper about having time off for the holidays. He asks everyone if they want to spend time together but sadly, everyone ditches Jim over the holidays because they have plans. McCoy visits his daughter, Nyota visits her family, and everyone splits. Not knowing Spock has feelings for him, Jim doesn't even bother asking if he wants to spend time together figuring he has something to do. Something cute, romantic with the boys spending time with one another and confessions; rated m; 17,690 words

Super cute and has lots of Sarek, which idk about y’all, but I’m always a fan of. Sarek and Jim kind of get to know each other a bit, and it’s cute. Sarek knows about they’re in love before Spock & Kirk know lol. If I remember correctly, there’s also some appearances from everyone’s favorite: Old!Spock! You also get a little bit of jealous and protective Young!Spock. So you’re in for a real treat with this one. 

The Ren shat’var Trilogy:  A split-second decision changes Jim's life forever, as he enters into a bond with Spock in the face of certain torture. Enemies to the Federation emerge from unlikely places, and the command team must contend with unexpected threats, as well as challenges within their own intense relationship. In this three-part series, the Enterprise races across the galaxy to confront the unknown, and Jim and Spock discover the true significance of their unprecedented connection; rated e; 184,411 words

Textual Attraction:  Valentine’s Day does not bring up pleasant memories for Cadet Kirk. But the serendipitous switch-up of his cell phone with a particular Vulcan professor’s will make his day far more interesting –and romantic. Perhaps some new memories can be made! 15,900 words

SO GOOD. Just SO good

Spaceman:  Academy AU. Five times Spock realizes he's attracted to a barista at the academy spaceport, and one time he decides to do something about it. rated t; 3728 words

Short, sweet, funny. You’ll love it.

Subtext: Texting your Vulcan first officer in the middle of the night is never a good idea. Especially when you have an obsessive crush on said Vulcan.The holidays are approaching and Jim is left entirely Spockless aboard the Enterprise when his First takes shore leave on New Vulcan. After some midnight pining, Jim sends a text he instantly regrets. That is, until Spock responds and willingly continues their textual communications to an inevitable conclusion; rated t; 13,032 words

Cute, sweet, funny. It’s a texting fic. I think you’ve probably figured out I love those. This one makes me laugh so fucking hard. Like actually laugh-out-loud-omg-did-i-just-snort kind of funny. Spock is great in this one

All Spock Wants For Christmas:  While Jim is away on a delegation mission, he panics about what to give Spock for Christmas. With help from Bones and Uhura, and in between some spam texting with Spock, Jim realizes he already has the perfect gift. And all it needs is wrapping paper and a bow; rated t; 11,966 words

And here we have another cute, sweet, funny texting fic. Sue me lol

The Morning After:  Jim convinces Spock to take shore leave with him on Risa, hoping the time together will help re-solidify their bond of friendship after some recent tension. Meanwhile, Spock convinces himself he's on Risa for one reason and one reason only, to prevent his wayward captain from getting into trouble. After a passionately illogical night of Romulan Ale and chocolate infused liquor, everything changes when Jim wakes with something other than a hangover filling his head. Something he's sure neither he nor Spock can handle. Because if Jim knows anything for sure, it's that his messed up thoughts belong nowhere near Spock's clean, ordered mind; rated m; 50,381 words

HAHA. This fic fucking cracks me up. You’ve got drunk boys pining over each other & not realizing it. You’ve got accidental marriage. You’ve got bed sharing. It’s great, it’s cute, it’s funny. 

Take This Sinking Boat (And Point It Home):  In which Spock pines, Jim isn’t stupid (except he kind of is), and Christopher Pike has had enough of this bullshit; 6698 words

Pike is great in this one, and it’s super, super funny.

Extracurricular Activities:   Spock returns to the Academy from a tour of duty to find an intriguing cadet captures his attention; rated e; 15,433 words

Veritas: Basically, Kirk and Spock are on trial because the Federation thinks they are emotionally compromised by each other, which is putting the lives of their crew in danger. They have to convince a court they’re not actually in love with each other. They think the claims are bullshit. They think it will be easy to prove that they aren’t in love or emotionally compromised, damn it. It isn’t; rated m; 186,80 words

This one is so, so good. A real gem off of Fanfic.net. I remember it was actually one of the first Spirk fanfics I ever read, and it blew me away. The progression of their relationship is really well-done and interesting. It has star-crossed lovers vibes and has some really emotionally intense moments in it, especially for Spock. 

A Habitual Affection:  Living in 1930s New York with the Vulcan you're secretly in love with is no simple thing. But Jim never liked anything simple. And then, the big snowstorm hit...; rated t; 7998 words

A beautiful TOS fic about one of the gayest episodes of Star Trek. Love this one. 

Atlas:  Between what was and what will be stands James Tiberius Kirk, in all his fractured patchwork glory. Because saving the Federation was only the beginning; rated t; 135,529 words

A beaut. Really great characterization, and the progression of Jim and Spock’s relationship is really well-done.

[imagineyouandharry]

Gypsophila (H.S)

Summary: Prince Harry has been under great pressure to find a wife, and he finds his Queen in a way far more unconventional than he could’ve imagined. 

Words: 5,730

Warnings: It’s a bit strange I guess? Idk lol.

A/N: Someone requested a Prince!Harry au forever ago, and then I didn’t really have an opportunity to write for a while, and then this idea sprung up on me and I’ve been lost in this little au for the past few days. It’s like a little twisted fairytale, taking inspiration from Snow White and Sleeping Beauty mostly. Part two is already a work in progress. If people are interested I’ll even put out a little sort of world building lore post with a map of the kingdom etc (I’ve been in DEEP). This part is a bit choppy and barely edited because I was just so eager to write it and get something out, but I would really appreciate any constructive criticism and editing notes! TYSM!! Long story short, enjoy!!!

 ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Harry Edward Styles did not believe in true love, in fact, he thought it was the most ridiculous idea ever. Harry’s certain he’s laid eyes upon every eligible young lady, from his kingdom and the ones surrounding, and he hadn’t felt a single thing when looking at any of them. He prayed every night that he would find his love the next day, and finally be able to put his parents out of their misery and ascend to the throne. At the age of 27, Harry’s the oldest person in his family to not be married, no one every waited this long in the royal family. He would’ve had an arranged marriage at 21, though when his parents suggested that he ran away on a sailing ship for two months. One thing was clear to him: though he may not have experienced love yet, he wasn’t going to ruin his chances at true by being forced into a loveless marriage. It wasn’t only Harry’s parents, but the entire kingdom that woke each day hoping to hear that their Prince had found his Queen. They referred to Harry as the Good Prince, his subjects adored him, and lived for his acts of charity and selflessness, and they only hoped he would find a Queen that would treat them the same.

Harry’s outlook on love changed however, after his most recent hunting trip. Sundays are for family and hunting, that’s what Harry was always told. No day was for Harry, he’d come to learn that. Living under a microscope meant for very little alone time, and almost no guilt-free alone time. He and his hunting party rode across the fields and out to the dense forest surrounding the kingdom, and over the two hour journey Harry found himself agitated with the topics of conversation going on around him. He wanted a break, tired of everyone only ever speaking about royal duties or politics. Harry had discovered a fresh water lake if he went off the trail, and when he realised they were edging closer to his favourite place he decided to excuse himself with the excuse of needing to fill his canteen.

The natural spring was a hidden treasure indeed. Harry’s entire kingdom was cut off from the rest of the world due to the thick forestland surrounding it. There was only one trail in, and one trail out, and even then only experienced riders were able to make the journey. The end of the trail, in the deep of the forest, was also often lined with thieves and outcasts making it not the safest journey. This spring wasn’t necessarily hard to find, however thick trees that lined the main trail hid the spring, the gorgeous wild flowers, and clearing of soft grass either side. Harry tied his horse to his usual tree, softly parting the bushes careful to not cause any permanent damage, and stepped his way through. His kingdom was full of hidden treasures like this, tucked away in places only to be found by those adventurous enough.

The sound of the running water was most prominent, however the closer he walked to the spring, the more he could hear a faint, delicate singing voice. Harry couldn’t recognise the song, but it was one he’d never forget now. It felt as though his heart dropped in his stomach, and he had to lightly scratch his arm on a branch to double check he hasn’t died and was hearing an angel of heaven sing to him. He walked closer, with quiet footsteps so not to disturb the singing. He knelt down to the edge of the spring and began to fill his canteen, looking around his eyes eventually focused on the source of his siren, standing in the clearing over the other side of the spring as she picked a bouquet of dainty flowers. Lavender, daisies, bellflowers, poppies. Her body was dressed in sage green, the simple dress showed she definitely was not from a wealthy family, but it was simple and beautiful in its own way. Perhaps she sewed it herself, it did look as if it were made for her. He could see her hair shine from here, and the features of her side profile were striking him even from a distance. She didn’t look real. The strange girl across the spring looked ethereal, like her beauty was too surreal for this planet. Had he hit his head? Was he seeing a forest fairy? He hadn’t even realised the staggering increase in his heart rate as he watched the girl, and listened.

He lost track of how long he had been watching her for, snapped out of his daydream when he heard a “Your Royal Highness! We must be getting on!” Harry heard shouting at him from a distance, most likely back where he had tied his horse. The girl had heard the faint noise and her eyes shot in Harry’s direction. His cheeks flushed with heat as their eyes met only for a brief second, before she ran away. The eye contact brought a slight curve to his lips, although she was leaving, at least he got another good look at her.

“Wait!” He called as he stood up, his hand and canteen dripping wet. His eyes softened as she simply left, looking back briefly in her stride, but he’d blown it. “God fucking damn it.” He cursed under his breath as he began to trudge back to his horse, his feet weighing heavy on the ground.

That was the most he’d ever felt, looking at the stranger across the lake singing as if it were for him, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d just lost his future Queen. Half of him wanted to wade through the water and run after her, but Harry wasn’t a often disobedient Prince, when one of his parents or advisors told him to jump, his usual response would be “how high?” It’s ironic how for someone who’s whole life depends on finding his future Queen is given so little time to actually explore a social life, or love life himself. He was always set up with suitors who his parents found best. In the rare times he’s able to sneak away he’d gotten around, and most definitely wasn’t a virgin, but he’d never found a girl who had made him feel the way he wanted to feel about his future queen. He only wanted to please his family, and his realm, but this was the one thing where he refused to compromise.

Y/N was as far away from a future queen as it could come, or at least that’s what her step-mother wanted everyone to think. The entire town hoped to marry their daughters off to the elusive Good Prince Harry, however her step-mother only wanted her biological daughters to have that chance. When Y/N’s father passed away her step-mother sent her out to live as a recluse in a tiny cottage in the woods, she had always feared that her beauty would distract future husbands away from her actual daughters, and didn’t want to ruin their chance of being married. Each Sunday she drops Y/N off the supplies she needs, but that was the only human contact she was given. It wasn’t too bad, she managed to keep herself busy with sewing, baking, or whatever other art or craft she could think of and had the materials for. It was lonely though, and she was ultimately alone.

Well, if you don’t count forest fairies. Y/N hated being outcast into the forest, and spent most of her early months in the cottage crying to whatever wild animal she could find that day that would stick around long enough. Eventually, these wild animals started bringing their fairy friends along with them. They would spend their days with Y/N tending to fruit and vegetable gardens, watering plants, having picnics, and making daisy chains. Her life was simple, and although not one she asked, it was one she was growing fond of. Male company was something she could only imagine and long for, or read about in story books. There were dozens of fairies living in the forest, but she’d become particularly close to a group of some of the female fairies.

Each Sunday before her step mother visits, Y/N will pick her step mother a bouquet of flowers in attempt to win her over, in hopes maybe one day her sweetness will earn her way back into town. Y/N had total obliviousness towards her step mother’s plan, and towards what was going on in the city. This year, any woman over the age of 21 was to present herself to the Prince. Y/N’s 21st birthday fell on the day she was scheduled to be presented to the Prince. The letter had been delivered shortly before she was sent away to the forest, Y/N never laid her eyes upon it though. The letter outlined the royal guard would be coming to collect anyone who failed to present themselves on the day, and to Y/N’s step mother that meant the only option was to make it so Y/N never turned 21, or made it to her birthday for that matter.

Seeing the Prince most definitely did spook Y/N during that day in the field, if her step mother ever found out she’d had contact with a male there was no chance she’d ever be allowed to move back home. She did all she could think to do. She ran. She ran so fast that the petals of the flowers she had picked were ruined in her haste, quickly shutting herself inside the cottage to gather herself before her routine afternoon visit from her step mother. Sure she knew of men to be dangerous and terrible, but she feared her step-mother’s wrath more than anything any man could put her through.

Like any other Sunday, she scrubbed the house and dressed herself in whatever new garment she had stitched herself this week. The fairies had been busy this week and she’d had a great deal of time to herself, embroidering colourful flowers into the soft white linen of the new dress she had made. Her step-mother would bring her fabric and thread to sew dresses for her step sisters. It was something to be proud of, but most likely would be over looked. Little was said upon her step-mother’s arrival, but her character seemed off. Her step-mother’s eyes darted around, checking windows as she insisted on making the two of them tea. Y/N sat down at the small dining table, recounting tales of her week, ensuring to leave out anything about fairies or a boy. She watched a small bunny outside the window, forgetting to speak as awe overwhelmed her whilst she watched its tiny nose twitch. Her daydream came to an end when the sound of the ceramic mug hit the hard wood of the coffee table. “Drink while it’s warm, my love.” Her step-mother told her, sitting down in the seat at the head of the table beside Y/N. It wasn’t long after that that Y/N hit the floor, and her step-mother was shrouding herself in a hooded coat and sneaking out of the tiny cabin.

Elsie, a fairy most close to Y/N, who specialises in healing, came to the conclusion that she was only out for about six hours before the fairies found her. They did all they could over the following weeks to bring her back to life, trying as many possible rituals, potions, and spells to give life to her body once more. Nothing was of use though, and instead they decided to preserve her in a glass case in the clearing amongst the wildflowers. She had professed to them that the clearing by the spring had been her favourite place, so they saw this fit. Preserving her in the glass case was simply because the idea of her beauty decaying away made any of the fairies shriek. Fairies never communicated with humans, however Y/N was different. Elsie had always theorised that Y/N had magic in her blood. Amongst the many spells and rituals they tried to bring Y/N back, they threw in a spell that would hopefully bring her back with true love’s kiss. It was like a safety net, or a ‘what if?’ But they eventually tired and wore out, preserving her was well enough for now. They kept her dressed in the new dress she had crafted for herself, it was so beautiful after all. They had placed tiny baby’s breath flowers throughout her hair, and made sure everything was perfect. They even went as far to adorn her in delicate gold jewellery, with beautiful crystals of all colours. Her body rested upon a large rectangular slab of rose quartz.

****

Harry was dreading sitting in the throne room, while all the eligible females from the town were presented to him like livestock. It made him sick, and left a terrible taste in his mouth. All he could think of was the girl from the clearing. Is she a sign? Is he his ticket out of here? Was seeing her fate? Questions like that simmered over his mind and kept him awake at night, he had been sleeping little and finding it hard to focus on his duties. His best friend Niall was he closest confidant, the only one he had told about the beautiful girl in the clearing that day. Niall cared more for Harry than anyone, really. He didn’t just care about his fame or power or wealth, Harry was his best friend and he hated seeing his best mate so down about his love life and the pressure to marry a woman he doesn’t love. He made it his mission to find the woman, and his detective work lead him down a path he didn’t expect at all. First he went to the clearing where Harry filled his water in the spring, that was where he first noticed something over the other side of the spring that he couldn’t quite make out. He followed the spring and found an area narrow enough to cross, making his way to the structure he’d seen earlier. He didn’t know what to make of this discover, a dead girl in a glass coffin. ‘Forever at rest, only to be woken by true love’s kiss’ read an inscription on a gold plaque. He really didn’t know what to make of this. He didn’t know what to tell Harry.

Sweat lingered Niall’s brow as he made his way back to the castle to find Harry, to tell him of his discovery. “Look… I just need you to come with me and tell me what you think when we’re there.” Niall tells him, his voice somewhat breathless. Niall himself was still in disbelief, shock, his eyes wide as he shook his head. “I just- I don’t know what to tell you. You need to see it for yourself.” He adds.

Harry nods. “I’ll come immediately.” Harry tells him, his trust for Niall outweighing anything else going on in his head. Together they rode to the forest, crossed the narrow part of the spring, and towards where Niall had discovered Y/N.

“Is this the girl you were talking about?” Niall asks, however when he looks from the girl to Harry, he knows the answer. Harry couldn’t help but fall to his knees, pressing his palms against the glass as he looked inside. He noticed how long her eyelashes looked, and the freckles on her nose. His nose was almost touching the glass as he leant here on his knees at the side of her, taking her in up close.

“What happened to you?” He whispers, his eyebrows knitting together. Niall gives him a moment before he decides to mention the plaque at the foot of the structure.

“It uh, says something weird about being awoken by true love’s kiss. I don’t know if it’s true, and it’s revolting to think you would kiss a dead body for nothing, but someone has put her here. Someone made this. My grandmother in her old age would mutter stories about forest fairies and their magic… It just makes you wonder, you know?” He ponders, his eyes wandering away. It felt silly to bring up magic, it was something very commonly dismissed.

“Help me get this off.” Harry said as he brought himself from the ground, the soft grass had left green stains on his tan riding pants. He pushed the sleeves of his white linen button down up past his elbows, and the two men carefully lift the heavy glass case up off of the rose quartz Y/N had been resting on. It wasn’t easy, and the glass at the bottom dug into Harry’s fingers before they set the glass piece of the structure down on to the grass. “Alright. Here we go.” Harry said, in attempt to psych himself up for kissing a dead girl. She didn’t look dead though, just sleeping, you could only tell she was dead due to the missing rising and fall in her chest with her breath. “I might start walking back to the horses, give you some privacy.” Niall said, giving him a slight smile. He also didn’t really want to witness someone kiss a dead person, if she didn’t end up waking up.

“Good luck. Take your time.” He adds, part of him had no doubt it was going to work though. The stories his grandmother would tell him of the forest fairies were something he’d always held on to, those stories were amongst his most treasured memories. He’d always had some hope.

Harry waited until he could no longer hear Niall’s footsteps before he leant down close to Y/N, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. He took a moment, if this never worked it was going to be the last time he’d ever see her. He couldn’t fathom coming back to this spot if this didn’t work. His heart began to ache at the thought, it made his chest feel tight, and gave him the urge to rub at the spot.

“I really hope you’re who I think you are.” He whispers as he looks down at her. “This might seem like absolute madness. I don’t even know your name, but if you wake up for me, I swear to you I will be yours forever.” He began, to Harry this almost did feel like a ritual, it felt special, and the words he was speaking were amongst the most genuine he’d ever given life to. “I promise, I will protect you. I will provide for you. I will love you. I will never, ever harm you. I will love you until my very last breath, I just need you to do this one thing for me.” His voice was barely a whisper now, and breaking as hot tears welled in his eyes. He very carefully leant down, pressing his warm, puffy lips against her cold, smooth ones. He didn’t know how long to wait, but it didn’t feel wrong. It was a sweet, tender kiss. His eyes closed, and he felt at peace. It felt more than at peace. The long grass, wildflowers, and tree branches that surrounded them began to stir with wind, petals floating up into the gusts that took them. This girl had a tendency to make him feel like he’s dead and in heaven. Her lips slowly began to warm, and skin began to glow with heat. It felt like they were floating, as if the universe was made up of just the two of them. The flowers beneath him began to grow taller and more dense, and it began to feel like his heart was pulling towards hers. It felt like a tether had been formed, connecting their energy, he could feel as her heart began to pump blood again, and her energy radiate from her skin. It felt too surreal.

Slowly, Harry removed his lips to allow Y/N to breathe. He let a hand lay gently resting on her cheek as he watched her gasp for her first new breath, eyes shooting open as she looked up at him. It wasn’t shock she was met with when her eyes met Harry’s, but peace. The luminous green eyes that were gazing down upon her were like lighthouses, guiding her towards safety. So many questions began to race her mind as she came to reality, unable to decide which one to ask first. As if based on intuition, Harry decided to speak. “I uh- I’m not too sure what happened to you but my friend found you here today and brought me to you. I believe I saw you a few weeks ago, in the same spot. I’m not sure how long you’ve been out here, but there was this little plaque at the end of this thing here, that said something about a kiss to wake you up… I’m sorry for kissing you without your consent, but I couldn’t risk not taking this chance.” He didn’t mean to ramble or to overwhelm her with his spiel, but he was overwhelmed himself with everything that had just gone on. True love’s kiss. His queen. His true love. The other half of his soul, in human form. Y/N’s lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. She closed them once more as she sat up and looked around, swinging her legs off the side of the marble before looking back up to Harry. Her movement had disconnected his hand from her face, and they both longed for each other’s touch once more already. Her eyes began to well with tears as she began to think about how she got here, her last memories.

“I can only assume how overwhelming this must all be for you… We can stay here as long as you need, it’s just us. When you feel ready for it, I can take you back to my home and we can get you showered and fed. I don’t mean you any harm.” Harry doesn’t even need to add that last sentence though, because she can feel it. She can feel his love for her, she could almost hear it if she listened closely enough, as if his heart was now beating a song for her.

Harry stood back, as if to give the doe eyed girl some space. She looked at him as if he was the most precious treasure on Earth, he’d never felt so overwhelmed with love. This was followed by her delicate hands reaching out, taking ahold of his as she brought herself to stand in front of him. “Is it alright if you hold me for a second?” She asked softly, needing time to process things.

It had been so long since she had been touched affectionately, she couldn’t really remember it. Her father was never affectionate, nor her step mother or step sisters or anyone else she’d met. She felt comfortable with the stranger in front of her though, and didn’t have the energy to resist the magnet like force pulling her towards him.

“Of course.” He responds, his voice soft as he wraps his arms gently around her frame, pulling her into his warm figure. Harry was like the perfect, giant teddy bear… but he wasn’t really that soft. Pressed against him she could feel how chiseled his features are. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she relaxed into him, cheek against the skin of his chest kindly revealed by the first few buttons of his shirt being undone. “What’s your name?” He asks, tangling his fingers in her hair to lightly rub his fingertips against the tender skin at the back of her neck.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Yours?” She asks, looking up to the tall, broad man.

“Harry.” He decides on leaving out his royal title or last name.

“Just Harry?” She asks, her eyebrows raising.

“For now. We have plenty of time to talk about me later.” He notes, removing the same rogue strand of hair as before from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. It was almost as if her hair had a life of its own, breathing, like the other flora growing in the forest. He had noticed the baby’s breath in her hair, though her hair moved, they remained in the same places, as if growing out of their place on the strand of hair. “What do you last remember?” He asks, needing to know if whatever put her in eternal sleep had been by accident, or as an act of malice. She looks back away from his face, resting her cheek once more against his chest.

“My step-mother, Styephania came over, she made me tea. That’s all I can really remember.” She said, unable to stop the disappointed sigh from escaping her lips. Maybe she’d had a freak health accident, like a stroke. Just because she’d been mistreated by her step mother her whole life, didn’t mean she was capable of murder. She knew her step mother didn’t put her out here though, this was the work of fairies. They were looking on, hiding in the bushes as they stood witness to young love blossom in front of them, not wanting to disturb the two of them. “I look crazy, and it sounds crazier saying this, but I’m certain the forest fairies are responsible for looking after me and putting me here. The day she came over was the day I think you saw me here, and I’m not sure how I’m meant to feel but I don’t feel like I’ve been a dead body since then. I feel like no time has passed at all.” Harry avidly listened to her speak, her voice like caramel, seeping in his ears and warming his whole body. Harry wasn’t phased by her mentioning fairies, Niall had suspecting this being their work earlier. It was the only explanation Harry could think of. He couldn’t understand why her step mother would leave her here, why she wouldn’t find her help.

He didn’t want to worry his sweet girl now, he wanted to make sure she felt alright, safe, and cared for. His grip on her wasn’t too tight, but firm in a comforting way. “The plaque… It mentioned how you’d only be woken by true love’s kiss.” He figured the longer he waited to tell her the stranger it would be. His cheeks were red, as if embarrassed or ashamed to tell her about the plaque, how strange it all was. Her eyes met his, and the connection gave him whiplash. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, getting lost in the little pools. He wanted to know everything about her, what she liked, disliked, what she ate for breakfast, her favourite songs, flowers, secrets. Everything.

“I don’t know if I know what love feels like. The only men I’ve spoken to are all twice my age. I wasn’t really allowed to see boys. You’re definitely much, much more beautiful than I would’ve imagined a man to be, and I’m certain that my heart is literally beating for you now, since you woke me.” She tells him, the descriptions of heroes in stories she would read, or how she would imagine the older men to look when they were younger, were incomparable to Harry. The compliment made his cheeks flush. With each beat of her heart, it was as if it was pulling her closer to Harry, calling out for him, begging for him to love on her and soothe the ache in her chest.

“How has God made something so sweet?” He mumbles, he hadn’t even realised he’d said it out loud at first. “You’re breath taking. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes upon, and trust me when I say I’ve seen a lot of them. Even from far away, the first time I saw you… You make me nervous. You make my heart race, and my palms sweat, and I get butterflies in my stomach and nervous when I think about saying the wrong thing or not having you like me. It’s as if you’ve been carved by God himself, like he was showing off when he made you so beautiful. I wish I’d met you sooner.” Those last words burn his throat, how easier the last few years would have been if he had just been able to find her sooner.

*****

Harry sent Niall back to the castle first, having him instruct everyone to clear out the path that the Prince and his soon to be queen would take to his suite, he didn’t want to spook her with people around. The guards had to stay though, non-negotiable. He also had Niall ensure the doctor was on standby, just to check on Y/N and stay in the castle over the upcoming weeks in case anything else happened. Security was going to be increased, and tightened, and a warrant put out for her step mother.

The two hour horseback ride to the castle would give them well enough time to get to know each other, Harry and Niall had also switched horses, Niall’s being the slower of the two. “I don’t want to startle you when we get there. I also don’t know how to really tell you this. I’m in the royal family, so the guards and whatnot are something to just be ignored. They’re for your protection. I don’t know if you heard much of what I was telling Niall earlier, but you’re going to be very safe here, and we’ll find out what happened. I’ll look after you, I promise.” His eyes are ahead as he speaks, looking over the vast green fields ahead of them once they eventually emerged from the forest.

“Still just Harry, to me.” She reassured, sensing his nerves about revealing this information to her. His shoulders relaxed at her reaction, and a smile formed on his lips when his mind began to wander into what their future may be like. His queen.

“Hey, one day that’ll be King Harry to you.” He joked, thankful that it was received with a laugh. Her laughter was almost as sweet as her songs, and for the rest of the journey he made it his mission to mine as many possible laughs out of her as he could, like little nuggets of treasure. After making their way through the fields that lined the forest, they went down a long road that served as a divide between two of the castle’s towns, and at the end of that road just past a small valley of mountains was a sight far more glorious than Y/N had imagined. Her village was a small village that contained mostly candlemakers and dressmakers, and it sat further to the east, people only ever going out there to purchase fine candles and clothing. It was niche though, and not many could afford the fineries the master crafters in her village would create. Y/N hadn’t even really seen a home larger than a cottage, Harry’s castle looked large enough as if it could contain its own little world, a complete wilderness of towers surrounded by fine gardens, protected by a large moat with a standalone drawbridge. Harry didn’t even need to announce himself, the drawbridge was already in the process of being lowered for him.

“I had Niall clear our path, I don’t want to overwhelm you. I’ll introduce you to everyone when you’re ready.” Harry reassures her, she hadn’t even thought of anyone else though, too in awe of the sights around her. Flowers she’d never seen before laced these gardens, with fine marble sculptures and fountains protruding from them.

“I can’t believe this is your home.” Y/N whispers, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Your home too, if you’d like.” Harry replies, though his words immediately shrouded him with nerves about rushing Y/N into anything. It was stupid, they were each other’s true love’s, but it felt wrong being strangers, so Harry tried his best to conceal things. He’d never been in a conventional relationship before, never mind whatever this arrangement is or was going to be. He just knew he wasn’t meant to rush things, so he tried to refrain from expressing his feelings as best as he could. Her arms around his waist tightened, Y/N needing to feel as close to Harry as possible. He held the reins in one hand, the other arm resting over hers around his stomach, holding on to her arm to make sure she couldn’t let go.

“I’d like that.” Y/N reassures, gently rubbing his side to soothe him. Harry was too caught up in his own feelings to pay attention to how calm Y/N was. She could feel his anxiety though, and continued to try to soothe him as best she could. Y/N knew very little about Harry so far, but what she did know was that he was kind, caring, and had a lot of worries. She’d never been a worrisome person, and if anything would even refer to herself as naive, it was something she’d always been almost ashamed of but in this moment felt like maybe she’d been made to be by Harry’s side. Y/N liked the idea of spending her days being Harry’s rock, a voice of reason. She’d rather a man like this than one who had no emotions, that was for sure. It could’ve been whatever was now eternally bonding them, but she swears she was feeling his emotions, able to see his aura if she really studied hard enough. She sunk into him some more, her arms around his waist, cheek resting against his back. Harry made sure to take it extra slow, giving his love enough time to appreciate the flowers. She seemed to like flowers, and his mother took pride in this being the most beautiful garden amongst all of the kingdoms. He couldn’t wait to show her all the fineries that came with his life.

[bokunosimpfiction]

Yandere!Heisenberg x Reader Pt 3

A/N: Since y’all demanded a plot that’s what you’ll get. Will it be good? No. I’ve never written anything with a plot in my entire life. Ever. Not even when I did Nanowrimo or whatever. I just bullshitted the whole thing. Like I’ll do with this fic. Y’all are going to have to remind me to update because I have the attention span of a goat. I’ll try to update this on Saturdays??? IDK at this point. ALSO, WHY THE FUCK IS THIS SO POPULAR?????????? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY NOTES THIS HAS ON AO3???? 69????SIXITY FUCKING NINE??? I HATE EVERYTHING MY LEGACY WILL BE READER CALLING HEISENBERG DOOFSCHMIRTZ I HATE EVRYTHING DSHFUGSADFJ

Synopsis: You have totally, %100, given up on escaping. Totally. You haven't been gathering supplies for one, final last hurray. Nope. Totally not. All you have to do is persuade Heisenberg of that so you can change your mind at the last minute. Y’all know the trigger warning for this series but if you don’t tw:kidnapping (implied)

Taglist: it’s exclusivly @localdepressedvampire​  so if you want to be on it for just this story or for all my pieces fill out the google doc in my pinned post or dm me and I’ll put you on it. :)

             You’ve made a breakthrough in your long-term plan of escapism. Even with the mini escape attempts that were really about exploring the factory and less about actually trying to get out, you hadn’t made a lot of progress: until now.

             Well, two, really… Okay, maybe 1 ½. Firstly, you found a sawed-off two-barrel shotgun. With ammo. In fact, there was a various amount of ammo around the factory, but no actual gun. Until now. The second discovery, which is nowhere near as useful, was a window. Which was probably 50 or more feet up from the ground. You didn’t get a chance to inspect it that much, considering as soon as you saw it and got a glimpse at the far-off ground, you had to run again from Lycans.

             Which gives you a basic idea of a way to escape. You knew where the ammo was, you knew where the gun was and had a route to the edge of the building, and hopefully could find stairs at the end of the hallway. Now all you had to do was find a time where you could be gone long enough to get a decent head start before, he notices you’re even gone. Even when he was in the workshop, he kept a close eye on you, keeping you in arms-length to the point where it taxed on both of your mental health.

             And even then, in that chair in the small room, you watch him work in the finer details on something the size of your head and torso. You try not to look at the phone in your lap, he doesn’t even know you have it, much less how great the reception is in the building. How did he not know about his old phone that was still working fine? Oh well, he doesn’t need to know you’re looking at memes and reading feel-good wolf-star fanfic on ao3.

             The best idea you had was to leave him while he was asleep, but there were two some issues with that: he clung to you like his life depended on it, your back to his chest and arms around you almost tight enough to keep you awake; it was dark as hell in the hallways of the factory as is, but it would be impossible to navigate safely with the lights; and the Lycans were most active outside at night, which was where you were trying to go. They’ve tried to eat you before as they show no discrimination on food.

             The only way to get a good enough head start would be to leave while he didn’t notice you were gone, and wouldn’t notice for a long, long time. And that when it hit you. The only time he ever left you by yourself was when he had to deal with the other three lords. And while he left you in that basement that you originally woke up in, you had memorized your way out and found that going up five flights of stairs took you to that faithful widow.

             Would you have enough time to explore and look for an actual exit/entrance, or should you play it safe and find a way to go out that window. You wanted to laugh to yourself, you’d never think that going down a 50ft plus drop would be considered safe, but here you were, kidnapped and held hostage by one of the people your late grandmother warned you not to associate with, or even go near. The letter you received directly quoted “the four lords and their mother, Mother Miranda, are not to be approached or associated with at any costs. You’ll know them when you see them, they smell like death and money. See them and run.”

             You can’t help but find that ironic, considering that you did try to run, heeded her warning, and still faced the consequences that were far worse than she had warned you about. You regretted coming here, to this small village, when you first arrived: no friends, and even those you tried to approach held you to her standard and expected them to be just like her. You were far from her kind and optimistic nature (at least that’s what you heard of her; you hadn’t even known of her whereabouts until she was dead).

             Even the duke, who had helped smuggle you into the village, didn’t seem fond of you. It was a shame, you tried so hard to impress him. But he saw you to a point where you could easily reach her old cottage without having too many issues, turned his cart around, and left without a good-bye. It bothered you to no end that your only companion for about a year or so was an elderly outside cat and the creaking noises the walls made at night.

             And then the cat died and not even a week later you got kidnapped. You never considered yourself lucky, but damn if that wasn’t the worst streak of luck you’ve had in a long time.

             You pretend to turn a page in your book and scroll through your Instagram feed, seeing friends having fun at the beach, or studying at the library, or your old best friend taking selfies in provocative clothing to your ex-boyfriend. Did she forget he cheated on you? She wasn’t always the smartest, but she brought that heartbreak upon herself. You see a photo of your mom, she had posted a picture of a black and white photo of her with her mom, you’re guessing, you have no idea who that old woman is.

             This is the last photo I had with my mom before she died. We lost contact after I moved out. I wish we parted on better terms, Nana.

             She’s in a prairie dress, holding an ancient-looking key in one hand, and the other wrapped around her mom, a middle-aged woman with long hair in two braids and a face that had too many stress wrinkles. You guess your mom was as bad as you were in college. The background looks dreary. You would have guessed it to be the quality of the photo if you hadn’t recognized the house behind them as the house you lived in used to live in.

             The loops on the handle of the key look familiar. You spread your fingers apart to zoom in and see the blurry engravings on the side. It was the payment you gave to sneak into the village. You thought it was a worthless family heirloom at most and found it strange that he had even found interest in the key, or even valued it deeper than money in general. Maybe this photo or other photos of you and your family would help out.

             Why is that key suddenly piquing your interest? Were you that bored, as to sit there and think about a key that was at least twice your age? A key that you didn’t even have. You needed a hobby besides escapism and rejecting your captor’s sexual advances. You look up at him again, only to find him leaning against the desk, hat off and sunglass placed on his forehead, his gaze on you. It wasn’t his normal piercing one, that studied you and calculated your every move, but soft and lazy. His current gaze was dreamy; he was daydreaming about you. You found that equally undaring s it was unnerving.

             “Karl.”

             “Yes, Sweetiepea?” Honestly, what the fuck.

             “Firstly, why are you staring at me like that? Secondly, that is the most disgusting way to use that pet name. I need to take a shower after you called me that.”

             He chuckles light-heartedly. Even his softer more genuine, happy chuckles are booming and loud. “Okay… Sugarplum!” And he busts out laughing.

             Clearly dodging the first question and focusing on the second. You can’t believe you gave him ammo for his annoying-you-gun. And you thought you’d grown immune to most of his… less-savory traits. Were you growing used to him? Next thing you know you’re going to like him and develop Stockholm syndrome!

             “You’re a shit head, hobo magneto…” You turn your head away and let your hair cover half your face so he can’t see you smile. You’ll miss him when you escape and get the duke to smuggle you back to your home in Bucharest. But only a little. Just because calling Heisenberg these names are funny.

             “Why don’t you call me by my name, I know you know it.”

             “You sure about that?” You quip back.

             “You’ve lived with me for at least two months now!”

             “Hm…. I think I know your name! It’s uh…” You are totally faking not knowing his name. “It’s… Heidi Carlson? Yeah, that sounds about right!”

             “It’s Karl Heisenberg!”

             “Quit being so silly, Heidi! Maybe it’s nap-time!” This was a little too fun.

             He looks back at his project for a moment and genuinely considers it. “I know you’re being antagonistic but you’re probably right.” And with that, he walks towards you and goes to scoop you up. You have to shut your book quickly in order for him not to notice the phone in between its pages before you let him pick you up.

             He immediately notices that. “Are… Are you sick?”

             “No! Of course not!” Because you genuinely aren’t sick, and he’s already up in your business as-is, you don’t need him dotting on you because he thinks you’re sick or something. You’ll go fucking crazy.

             “You’ve put in zero effort into anything remotely physical since your last little failed escape attempt.” He gave it a little bit of thought. “You’ve given up, haven’t you, and you’re just depressed about it aren’t you?”

             You want to say no, you really do, but if Heisenberg thinks you’ve given up on escaping, perhaps it’ll give you enough space to plan the big one. The reverse heist so to speak. “No- I… okay maybe I have but I still don’t like you.

             He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good girl. Now let’s get us that well-deserved nap.”

             You plug your nose and turn away as a joke. “You’ve gotta take a bath first, you smell like oil and sweat.” You don’t fight it, because you have to play the part, but you still have to act a little bit like yourself.

             “Okay, fine doll, but don’t think you’ve escaped my barrage of affection, because as soon as I get out of the shower-“

             You bonk him. And he looks at you so confused before he smiles and leans down to nuzzle his nose against yours. You try to hold the bile back in your mouth and lean forward and peck his lips before leaning back. You failed at trying to not visibly gag.

             “Ew… I can’t believe I just kissed you.”

             “Well, I guess someone caught feelings… Didn’t they?”

[castieltrash1]

dangerous territory → clint b.

gif credit (x)

summary → clint stays behind during a mission, leaving you alone with him in the avengers building. seeing him sprawled out on the comfy lounge room couch gives you some naughty ideas -- only adding to the tension your relationship already has.

word count → 6.7k (literally wtf)

warnings → i ignore the entirety of iw/endgame except for clint’s makeover, extreme sexual tension, smut; switch!fem!reader, switch!clint, couch sex, oral (both recieving), fingering, slight overstimulation, dirty talk, praise

a/n → literally idk if i should be ashamed or not but im Horny 4 Hawkeye!!! oopsie !! also there are like .3 smut fics for him on here and im determined to fix that

---

Quiet was not a word you’d use to describe the Avengers Facility.

In fact, with Steve’s loud orders, Bruce’s lab explosions, and Sam’s boisterous laughter -- not to mention the never-ending petty arguments that managed to revert the Avengers to 11th graders in their first debate club -- it was the farthest thing from quiet.

But, now, with zero disagreements and zero distractions, you’d been able to enjoy the building all to yourself. Almost. Of course, the one time you got to avoid a mission, you ended up falling into an even worse situation.

You’d covered for Wanda last mission, and she’d insisted on paying you back for the newest one. It wasn’t high stakes by any means, but the work itself had countless components and everyone who was nearby -- or at least on the planet -- had been called in to fill some role.  

Everyone, of course, except you. And Clint.

Suddenly the idea of being stuck in the Quinjet with everyone’s post-mission moodiness sounded very appealing. You could feel a headache growing as you wandered around the kitchen, doing anything and everything in your power to avoid him. He was not supposed to be here. Hell, he didn’t even like stepping foot in the place unless the world was in immediate danger.

Of course, you weren’t the only one to notice his odd attitude. Natasha gave him a confused look when he mentioned staying behind, but decidedly hadn’t commented, almost like she’d already pieced together the reason for Clint’s actions. Knowing her, she probably had. But, even Wanda shot a glance that worried you -- though you seemed to be the only one to catch her squinted green gaze before it disappeared. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what she saw in his mind.

Sure, you had a couple of ideas as to why he would choose to isolate himself with you, but you tried to not let those thoughts consume you. The others wouldn’t be back till midday tomorrow -- if all went well -- and you were not about to spend the next 36 hours soaking your panties with stupid fantasies.

Unfortunately, even when ignoring Clint, your mind was still focused on him. When you passed by the gym or shooting range, antsy to get your daily work in, one quick thought of seeing Clint’s arms -- tensed as he loaded his bow, muscles straining and eyes focused on his target -- was enough to have you quickly walking in the opposite direction.

But, now, as you make your way into the lounge to relax, you can’t find it in yourself to care. You have just as much of a right as Clint does to walk around whenever and wherever you please. In all honesty, you feel even more entitled considering you’re the one actually living in the tower (at least most of the time.)

He’s exactly where you expect him to be -- he may be fast and quiet on his feet, but you’ve been keeping tabs on him, for your own sake.

It’s a bit odd seeing a book instead of a bow in his hands, but you’re not entirely sure you should be focused on how his fingers wrap around the thin pages, thumbing the corners so gently--

“Done avoiding me, are you?”

Well, shit.

His gaze remains on his book -- though the very few pages he’s turned assures you he’s not paying attention to whatever riveting story Tony has stocked his shelves with.

“What are you talking about?” you ask. There’s a moment of temptation to take a seat next to him on the couch, as close as possible. To feel his strong arms around you, smell the raw masculine cologne he always wears a bit too much of -- heavy on his neck and sharp jaw that you know your lips could curl around so perfectly if given the chance.

You swallow heavily and take a seat in the chair across from him, sinking into the expensive fabric.

“Tony picks good furniture, right?” Clint sighs, book closing without so much as a dog-ear mark as he leans back.

It’s silent for a second, and you’re entirely sure you’ve missed a part of the conversation during your mini black-out, but Clint doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, waiting patiently for your answer. You consider it a small win and accept the change in topic with an awkward laugh.

“Yeah. Didn’t think price made such a big difference.” There’s a firmness to the chair that keeps you from sinking, and mentally, you consider if it’d be strong enough for other activities. “How much you wanna bet he spent on each of these chairs?” you question, genuinely curious. “I gotta guess at least two grand.”

Clint’s cool eyes glint playfully. “Three,” he challenges with a smirk that sends a shiver down your spine. “Though, you should really try this couch. Definitely my favorite thing here.”

There’s just a hint of suggestion in his tone -- the kind that you’d miss if you weren’t trained in reading people. It’s not unexpected, though. You’d have to be a fool to not recognize the exact same longing stares, the same lingering touches that Clint offers you. But, that’s what makes it all more intimidating. It’s an unspoken thing, and at this point, that’s what feels most convenient -- even if your lonely nights spent moaning his name are growing far too common for comfort.

Still, you can’t exactly ignore him, and his eyes follow you closely as you make your way to the couch, falling into the comfy cushions with a huff.

“Wow.” You laugh. “No wonder you’ve been spending so much time down here.”

Clint raises an eyebrow. “So you have been paying me some attention. Interesting.”

If he notices you shift as far to the other end of the couch as possible, he doesn’t mention it.

“Don’t take it personally, Barton,” you huff. “I’m used to keeping an eye on everyone around here.” It’s not entirely a lie, but he manages to see right through the half-truth regardless.

“So you avoid everyone, then?” There’s no hurt or misunderstanding in his voice, not even confusion. He knows what you’re doing, knows why you can’t bear to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds.

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deflect, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back onto the couch.

He just chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach clench unconsciously. You expect him to keep pressing you, work you up until you spill your guts, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even say a word as you hear the rustling of paper and feel the couch move slightly as he shifts.

You turn your head towards him and open one eye, then both as they go wide. Clint has taken on a whole new level of comfortable, feet perched on the coffee table and one arm resting on the back of the couch while his free hand flips through the same first few pages as before.

In all honesty, you suddenly find yourself happy that Steve and Tony are gone -- otherwise they’d be scolding Clint for his manners, and most definitely not ogling his firm legs in those tight, black jeans.

You drag your gaze back up his body, stopping near the hem of his shirt, where his new position has allowed for the fabric to ride up his stomach. It’s just a sliver of skin but the image is enough to make your heart race. There’s a faint dip in the muscled hip line leading to his jeans, and if you stare extra hard, you can see the light trail of thin hairs disappearing under the fabric.

Swallowing heavily, you quickly look back at Clint’s face, holding back a gasp as he stares back at you.

“So,” you fill the silence before he can, mentally thanking Natasha for her training on keeping your composure. “How’s that book of yours?”

Clint just grins for a second -- you both know he’s caught you. “It’s alright. Not the most interesting thing in the building right now, though.”

You gulp. “Yeah… The place is big. Lots to explore. I don’t think I’ve even seen every room--”

“I have a feeling you know that’s not what I mean,” Clint cuts you off with a chuckle, and you send him a challenging glare.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you scoff.

He hums, before his tongue peeks out to swipe across his bottom lip. “You’re sounding awfully like a broken record today.” His icy, pale eyes return to his book, and you watch as he lifts his thumb to his wet lips, tongue darting out the lick the tip. You can practically feel the action, and almost whine in disappointment when his hand returns to flip the page.

Clint is downright grinning at this point, and you know he’s taking in every breath, shift, and blink of yours. “But, I know you’re not actually confused,” he continues. “In fact, I’d argue you like this game of ours a bit more than you should.”

You know if you brush it off again, he’ll drop it. He’s too nice to make you uncomfortable, and his statement hangs in the air with a heavy weight.

“You know, Barton?” you shift from your spot on the couch, eliminating a good chunk of the space between you and him. “I think you’re smarter than most people give you credit for.” He raises a brow, and you would believe his undisturbed look if you didn’t see his fingers twitch against the spine of the forgotten book.

“Tell Nat that,” he jokes, and you grin. Seeing that little crack in his facade, the way he fills the conversation with a joke, the discreet but heavy swallow he tries to hide -- it’s all enough to power you to move closer, until there are mere centimeters between you two.

“Hmmm, I don’t think I’ll be telling Natasha anything from this conversation of ours.” Keeping your attention on the slight tense of his jaw, you push the book from his hands, and he immediately drops his feet from the table to discard it in their place.

You pause for a second, glancing at Clint’s lap then back at him, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach out and grab your hip.

“Get over here already,” he groans, both arms wrapping around your waist to situate you in his lap. His hands are warm and firm and everything you could have ever imagined, and you automatically roll your hips down onto him. There’s a pleased moan from you both, and his own hips jolt in a way that sends you even closer to him, until your chests are touching.

He immediately dives for your neck, scruff tickling the sensitive skin as he breathes you in deeply. “I gotta admit,” he murmurs, letting his lips graze the bottom of your jaw in the most sinful way, “you look so much better sitting here than standing around in the kitchen.”

You drag your fingers through the long hair on the back of his head, tugging it playfully. “You’ve been watching me, Barton?”

He hums, squeezing you just as teasingly. “I do a lot of staring when it comes to you, babe.”

You pull him from your neck by his hair, and he looks up at you with the most mischievous glint in his eyes. The nickname makes you undeniably flustered, but you force the embarrassment away.

“I don’t know about you, but I think that’s what you call creepy,” you mumble, leaning down so Clint can feel your words against his own lips. He immediately darts forward, but you pull back with a sly grin, watching his eyes darken at the action.

“I think,” he growls, catching you off guard as he pushes you back onto the couch, making you jostle as you try not to fall off the edge. He steadies you with a large hand, and you only jolt again when he uses his free hand to spread your legs, caging you in as his hips drop between your parted thighs. “You’d be a hypocrite for saying that.” He drops back to your neck, and you can feel his smile before his teeth sink into your skin lightly -- just enough to make you gasp.

He continues to litter your neck with kisses, and you watch in awe as his toned arm tenses by the side of your head -- the thick black lines of ink rolling as his muscles flex.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you taunt, back arching as his tongue darts out to lick a stripe up to right below your chin. “You gonna fuck me?”

Clint bites the edge of your jaw in retaliation to your words, before he pulls back just enough to stare at you with a lustful gaze.

“Not yet, baby. Not that easily.” One of his hands trails up the front of your thigh, before it busies itself with the hem of your shirt. You try to hide your disappointment, but Clint notices it, of course, and just shakes his head. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on letting you leave this couch anytime soon. You’ve made me wait long enough for this… I’m gonna take my time with you.”

He finally presses his lips to yours, and you hungrily reach and tug until he’s as close as possible -- until you can feel the denim of his jeans scraping deliciously against your thighs as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth. It’s messy and entirely uncalculated, and your nails catch in the wrinkles of the back of his shirt while his own fingers tug impatiently at the bottom of yours.

You part from him for a second, and his own greedy mouth follows yours, only managing to press against the side of your lips. “You act like you’ve made this easy for me,” you retort, and his chest rumbles against yours as he chuckles.

“Oh honey, I think I’ve made it quite obvious I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day you walked in here.”

“Clearly, not obvious enough.”

Clint huffs, warm breath hitting your cheek. “What’d you want me to do? Huh?” He shifts so his words make their way directly to your ear, each syllable accentuated with a puff of hot air. With him this close, neck just below your nose, you can take in the heavy smell of that sharp cologne you love so much.

His calloused fingers dip beneath your shirt, but instead of the obvious trail up, his hand trails down to play with the hem of your shorts. “Tug these little things off in front of everyone? Show them all how worked up you get me wearing these? Is that what you want?”

Your hips lift in a silent plea, and you groan. “They’re comfortable.”

“Maybe for you, but I find myself very uncomfortable when you wear them.” He snickers, and if you weren’t so turned on, you’re sure you’d roll your eyes. Only Clint Barton could make a joke about untimely hard-ons during a time like this.

“Then why don’t you take them off?” you groan, and he shakes his head while muttering something about you being bossy.

Still, his words betray him as he tugs the fabric down your legs, as slowly as possible while his eyes drink in the new area of exposed skin. “What part about taking my time with you did you not understand?” The corner of his lips tug in that mischievous way of his, and you have a sneaking feeling his patience is as fleeting as your own.

Proving your point, Clint tosses your shorts over the back of the couch with a grin, then pushes you further up the cushions. You’re almost sitting, shoulder blades knocking the arm of the sofa while your legs bend at the knee to accompany Clint, who scoots back. It’s the perfect and most disastrous angle to be at as you have to both feel and watch his deft fingers trail up from your knee.

You’re a hundred percent sure the effects of your arousal are extremely obvious, but he doesn’t comment on the wet patch of your panties -- though you see his eyes focus on the area between your legs for a second too long before his gaze flickers back to your thighs.

His calloused fingers trail the edge of fabric around your legs, rough skin providing a type of friction you can’t begin to explain. His touch is fleeting and he changes the amount of pressure with every swipe of his thumb, always pushing just enough to let you know he’s holding you down. That you can’t escape him -- as if you’d even think of trying to do so.

“Your legs are so sexy, you know that?”

You let out some type of pleased whine, a sound that Clint relishes as he tightens his grip on your thighs. “Make the prettiest sounds, too,” he continues, and then his fingers are right there. One hand holds your left leg down, while the other covers your panty-covered core. His thumb rubs into your desperate, throbbing clit, and you use your little amount of freedom to push your hips up, wanting, needing more.

Clint immediately presses you back down, and you watch his tattoos shift just slightly as he adds more weight to his hand on your thigh.

“Please, please.” You revert to begging at your lack of movement, losing all shame in regard to your desire. It’s obvious you need Clint -- any excuses or lies from before long forgotten. You need his movements to speed up, the slow circles of his thumb providing barely enough friction.

He just chuckles, but relents a little and you downright purr as the thin fabric of your underwear drags against your tingling nerve endings. It’s impossible to move under Clint’s weight, but all the muscles in your lower half flex and twitch as they desperately search for release and relief.

“How about…” Clint trails off, fingers moving upward to grab the waistline of your panties, “we get these off?”

You’re sure if you nod any faster you might make yourself dizzy, and Clint just smirks in that knowing way. That way that lets you know he has you right where he wants you. Right where he’s been waiting to have you.

The article of clothing is soon flung behind his shoulder just like your forgotten shorts -- and you can only faintly remind yourself to make sure you grab everything before the others return. Though, at this point, you think anyone could walk in on Clint between your legs and you’d still be begging him to make you cum -- audience or not.

“Fucking Christ,” Clint groans, palms sliding between your thighs to spread them, giving him a full view of your glistening core. “I swear, you’re gonna kill me.” Seeing his flushed cheeks, mussed hair, and greedy fingers, you’re not sure you can reject that statement.

He removes his hands for just a second, but you don’t dare close your legs, and he has the audacity to wink. Before your mind can even process the action, though, he’s pulling his shirt off, arms crossing over his chest as they show off in their full glory. Hips, stomach, chest, arms -- they’re all exposed so quickly and your eyes drink in the features as fast as they can. Clint throws the shirt to the side -- you have a feeling he’s utilizing his perfect aim to create a clothing pile -- but you just stare at his shoulder, where the ink spreads to areas you’ve never had the chance to see before. The olive green accents contrast against his tanned skin, which has gained a light sheen from the sweat of his arousal.

As he leans back down, Ronin’s portrait stares you dead in the eyes -- quite literally. If you didn’t know the deeper meaning, you’re sure you could mistake the skull as a danger warning to the man pressing a kiss against the inside of your knee.

Short hairs chafe your legs as Clint makes himself comfortable, pressing his jaw against you. When his hot breath dances over your center you almost squeeze your thighs together, but he’s there to push them apart with a chuckle.

“No, no…” He pulls away barely, and you take in a deep breath to calm yourself. “You’re gonna give me what I want, ok?” His fingers are gentle, and so are his eyes when he glances up to you. He’s hopeful, pleading almost, but stays respectful. “If that’s ok, of course.”

You almost want to cry, because how could he think any differently, but you just nod. “Please Clint, touch me.”

He sends you a lopsided grin, and then he’s right there, pressing a kiss against your clit. The feeling is completely different from before, lips slick and soft unlike his rough thumb. All the air in your lungs leaves your body as you let out a sigh of relief, body finally relaxing as it gets the touch it needs.

You reach down and your nails scratch his scalp lightly before you grip his hair in a tight hold. He nuzzles against your hand and groans against you, and the feeling of control makes your blood run hot through your veins. One of the most powerful men on Earth is between your legs, sucking softly on your clit like it's the only thing he could ever want.

He traces circles on your thighs with his coarse fingers as he warms you up with gentle licks and the occasional curl of his lips around your most sensitive area. You let him have the satisfaction of your spread thighs, but you periodically tug on his tousled locks to remind him that he’s the one between your legs. It’s the perfect balance of dominance -- the type that makes your head spin and your eyes roll back into your head.

Clint presses another kiss to your clit before traveling lower and the intimacy of the action makes your skin flush. You can tell he’s not going to be holding back for much longer though, if the desperation of his descent is any indication. His fingers join his attack as he spreads your folds, tongue dragging the entirety of your core.

“So good, baby. So fucking good,” he mutters, mouth impatient as he covers as much skin as he can at once. It’s fast and downright dirty as he presses his tongue into you, eliciting a groan from your parted, panting lips. You’re dripping at this point, and he laps up the mix of saliva and arousal with a yearning thirst.

It’s all so overwhelming. His fingers are digging into your skin -- likely to leave faint marks -- and the scruff framing his jaw scrapes and leaves your skin burning, while the softer locks between your fingers are a comfort to steady you.

The heat building in your body is entirely unbelievable, and your back digs into the couch as you arch into Clint, desperate for all he’ll be willing to give you. You press him closer, and he moans at the power in your hands -- the control you have despite him hovering over you. It’s a mental trip for you both, your stomach and pelvic muscles clenching as they react to his generous, eager giving.

“God, Clint, gonna cum.” The words barely feel like they’re coming from your own body, jaw slack as you tremble in his hold. His index finger presses into you slowly, while his thumb replaces his tongue on your clit. The change of stimulation has you reeling, your grip on Clint loosening as you feel his warm words against you.

“Kinda the point, sweetheart.” Your eyes are squeezed shut, but you know Clint is smirking -- you can practically hear it in his voice.

His finger curls to press against your front wall, and he rubs it gently once, twice, before he lets the digit drag out, sinking in again even slower. The leisurely thrusts continue as his tongue returns to circle your clit, his cocky words from before silenced as he puts his mouth to work. Your breath grows heavier, heart rate increasing with every second. His middle finger joins the first with a steady push, and you clench desperately as they curl and press and rub and reduce you to nothing but putty.

You’re right there and Clint knows it -- somehow he knows it. His fingers move faster, harder, and his lips wrap around your clit with even greater determination. There’s a shift, fingertips grazing the perfect spot as he sucks desperately and it’s over. You’re crying out his name, thighs shaking and you clench and flutter around his never-ceasing fingers. There’s a moment where all senses leave you and all you can feel is Clint, and the spread of warmth between your legs. Your ears ring and your own moans become faint background sounds.

And then, you’re pulling his head back, his tongue still trying to work your sensitive clit. He fights your tug on his hair but you must be begging because he finally relents with a huff. You can hear his breathing, and you feel his shift as he leans back over you, fingers still working you through your high.

“Look at me,” he demands, and his free hand drags down your cheek. “C’mon, open your eyes.” He forcefully grabs your chin, and your eyes open too quickly for your mind to process. It’s all so bright and you have to blink away the splotches of color coating your vision. Clint takes up the entirety of your view, lips wet and eyes dark. “There you go, baby.” He’s grinning and panting and his fingers are still fucking moving.

You whimper and glance down -- as much as his grip on your jaw will allow -- and the view of his tattooed arm between your thighs, veins pulsing as he fingers you is imprinted in your mind permanently. It’s a never-ending high that goes on for a second too long before Clint finally, finally eases his fingers from you. They’re practically dripping with your release, and he wastes no time bringing them to his glossy mouth.

It’s hypnotic to watch as his lips close around his fingers, nostrils flaring as he sucks them eagerly. They come out clean, and his chest rumbles with a groan. “Can’t get enough of your taste. Fuck.”

It takes a second for you to catch your breath, chest heaving and shirt clinging to sweaty skin. But, there’s finally a moment where your legs feel somewhat solid, and you take advantage of the opportunity, bending your leg to put the bottom of your foot on Clint’s bare chest.

He shoots you a confused but intrigued look, and you respond with a lopsided grin as you push him backward, until he’s the one stumbling to find a spot against the arm of the couch. Faintly, you consider the move would be much sexier with a pair of heels digging into his skin, but this will have to suffice for now. Maybe next time -- if there is a next time, of course.

“Now, what are you up to, baby girl?” Clint is practically vibrating with excitement as you gather the strength to push yourself off the couch, ignoring the slight twitch of your exerted thighs.

“Take your pants off,” you say, with little shame. “Now.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen someone get undressed so quickly and the hastiness of Clint’s actions leave him with very little coordination. It takes him three tries to get his belt undone, and he pokes himself with the metal prong when his eyes return to glance at you.

Raising a brow, you put your hands on your hips, and he speeds up. The button and zipper take him twice as long, but the sound when he finally tosses his belt and jeans off to the side is well worth the wait.

He licks his lips, looking up at you -- waiting, watching. Your earlier thoughts regarding his legs are heightened tenfold as you take in his toned thighs and hard cock in-between. He’s thick, the bulge pressing against his boxer-briefs making your heart skip a beat. The mere idea of him stretching you open has you growing too impatient for what you have planned.

“Keep going.” You swallow and hope your voice doesn’t sound too shaky.

Clint’s quick fingers make work of the fabric, and you focus on finishing yourself off. You pull your shirt off and let it drop to your feet before your hands move to unhook your bra. You’re barely sliding the straps down your arms when you hear Clint huff, and you look back to him.

“I wanted to do that,” he almost whines, chest puffing.

You roll your eyes but laugh, and toss your bra to him. He catches it with a wink, before throwing it behind him. Immediately, his gaze drags over your chest, excruciatingly slow. You know he’s taking in every inch, every natural mark that decorates your torso. Normally, you’d feel odd being examined so closely while still being at a decent distance -- but Clint is observant and his eyes are hungry.

Finally, his dark eyes reconnect with yours. “You gonna come sit or should I just grab you?” His tone is playful and daring, but you hear the hint of arousal that suggests he wouldn’t be opposed to tugging you into his arms. You don’t have time for games anymore, though, so you stand between Clint’s legs, and he pats his thigh playfully.

“Hmm…” You bite your lip and shake your head, eyes glistening with mischief. “Not yet…”

You make your descent to your knees perfectly paced, fluttering your lashes as you look up to Clint from between his thighs. He cusses and his arms fall limply to his side as he resigns himself to the torture he knows you’ll be sure to deliver.

“I thought you wanted to take your time,” you tease, fingers sliding up his thigh. Your nails against his skin have him tensing, muscles quivering.

He groans, and tosses his head back. “That was before I made you cum. Just wanna fuck you now -- make you shake again.”

You pinch him. “Sweet-talking will get you nowhere, Barton. You should know that.” But, you still let your palm graze over his hard cock, twitching at your touch. He’s firm and warm, and when your fingers wrap around his length, you realize how deliciously thick he is, filling your grasp fully. The length is there too, just enough to not be intimidating, but the girth has your core throbbing.

“Fuck, Clint,” you groan, giving a slow jerk of your wrist. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

He’s pulsing in your hand, skin flushed and precum beginning to drip from the head of his cock. It coats your hand on the second stroke, easing the drag. Soon enough, he’s practically glistening, and your mouth waters. You have to taste him.

He calls your name, voice trembling, as your tongue darts out to flatten against his tip. “Oh God, please.” He’s flushed, from his cheeks to his tensing thighs, and you’d grin if you weren’t taking him deeper into your mouth. Another part of the burning, fervid desire deep in your veins lights up as your lips wrap around him -- tongue greedy for more as it laps everything it can reach. A growl reverberates through his entire body, and the sound makes your thighs clench.

You spare him a glance, and he looks destroyed. Sweat gathers on his forehead and the veins in his arm pulse as he grips the cushions to stay steady. Sane. Calm.

His knuckles are white and you relieve them by grabbing his left hand in your own, thumb rubbing over the back of his palm. He’s squeezing you like you’re his lifeline, and you reward him with your free hand around his base.

“Fuck fuck, I’ll cum too fast with you doing that,” Clint grunts, and you watch his chest heave as he tries to steady his breathing.

You pull off him with a line of spit, breaking it with your hand as you use the saliva to glide your fingers. He’s still throbbing, and you trace his underside vein with your wet thumb. “I thought that was the point, right?” You repeat his words from earlier with a grin, pressing a kiss against his thigh as your hand speeds up. He’s so close and he needs it so badly, but he finally pulls his hand from yours to grab your moving wrist.

“Not until I fuck you.” He pants, and begrudgingly removes your hold from his cock. “And a couple times, at the very least.”

Your heart races at the mere thought of as many rounds as you can handle, with Clint making you cum again and again. Still, you stand slowly, silently hoping he’ll push you back to your knees and cum down your throat.

But he doesn’t. He watches closely as you straighten out, and you quickly move to straddle him. “Fine, but you’ll let me ride you, understood?” Your thighs brush over him with the lightest touch, and with just one solid movement, you could have him sinking into you. But, you wait. You watch as he swallows heavily, eyes hooded.

Clint gives you a lopsided smile. “No complaints here, babe.” And with that, you reach down to hold his length, pressing the tip against your clenching, wet, core. He gasps, but you shift just slightly, until he bumps your clit. It’s too much and too little all at once, and you let out a soft cry as he jerks upward, precum coating the swollen nub. You reward yourself with one more drag down from your clit before letting the head of his cock push into you.

You’re immediately clenching around his length, and Clint’s calloused fingertips dig into your hips as he helps steady you. It only takes a couple breaths and a slow spread of your thighs to take him fully, arousal coating his cock quickly. He barely holds himself back from rutting into you right away, but you rock your hips and grip his shoulders regardless.

“Fuck,” he half-groans, half-whimpers. “You’re so fucking wet.”

Your nails dig into his skin as you roll again, letting out an incoherent babble of his name as your clit gains friction from his own warm body. You can feel your own wetness dripping down your thigh onto his, and it has you shuddering. It’s so dirty and your fingers move to Clint’s hair, desperately clinging at the long strands. His forehead presses to yours, and he smells like the most dangerous concoction of sweat, cologne, and mint toothpaste you’ve ever had the honor of inhaling.

You join in an almost-kiss that’s all teeth, but he brushes his tongue against your cupid’s bow in a much gentler way, and you know he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine in reaction. He squeezes your hip gently in reassurance, and then his grip on you tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but you can feel the years of arm workouts, and you know there’s no way to escape -- as if you’d ever want to.

Clint’s knee jerks and then he’s thrusting up into you with such force it leaves you breathless. He holds you down and all you can do is gasp and hold him tighter as he pushes into you harder and faster. Every shift provides a new angle and friction as his tip stimulates your sensitive walls.

Your thighs shake desperately and you can hear the wet slap each of his movements provide as you coat his cock in warm slick. He grins at the sight, one hand drifting from your hip until it reaches your throbbing clit.

“Look at you,” he coos and punctuates the words with a rough circle of his thumb.

Your chest heaves as you gasp, but the lack of Clint’s hold gives you a second to grind against him. He grunts as you do, and you chuckle breathlessly against his parted lips.

“And look at you.”

He retorts by way of another rub against your clit, and your laughter quickly turns to a drawn-out moan.

“You look so pretty when you’re about to cum.” He pants between every word, but he’s determined to deliver the compliment that makes your face too warm. You’re not sure how he knows you’re so close -- it must be way more embarrassingly obvious than you thought -- but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when he’s letting his cock drag inside you slowly, with a hard thrust every few seconds. Not when the pressure on your clit is changing so rapidly you can’t breathe.

When you do cum, with a broken cry and shaking torso, Clint doesn’t let up. He goes faster, harder. It’s a never-ending high that turns your brain to mush, and your body into even less. Your thighs burn and your toes curl but all you can feel is the delicious length buried deep inside you.

It’s only during the beginning of the cool down that you tug a little harder on Clint’s hair, and roll your hips a little more. “C’mon, Clint, please. Please fill me up.” His chest rumbles against yours with a throaty growl, and you continue to ride out your orgasm as he fucks into you with a few more desperate, shaky thrusts.

He cums in you thick and warm, with a groan of your name. It tumbles from his lips sinfully, and you commit the sound to memory. The rasp of his tone and the sight of his wet, swollen lips.

It’s not until he eases out of you slowly, and you feel the drip down your thigh that you’re grounded and reminded of exactly where you are. On a multi-thousand dollar couch. Owned by Tony Stark.

“Oh my god, Clint.”

His eyes are closed and you’re sure he’s about three seconds from sleeping for eighteen hours, but he manages a tired smirk. “I know. That was good.”

“No! I mean yes. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

He half-opens one eye. “What?”

“I think we stained the couch.” A quick glance between Clint’s thighs all but confirms it, and you’re not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed by the very large wet spot staining the blended fabric.

“I can’t believe that’s what you’re thinking about right now. After everything that just happened.”

You playfully slap his shoulder as you roll onto the cushion next to him with a huff. He nudges you back with his arm before clearing his throat, and letting out a butchered impression of your voice. “Oh Clint! Your dick was just so amazing!-”

“Oh my god!” You cover your face but nothing stops the laughter that rumbles through your chest -- even if he’s got your tone completely wrong. He just chuckles and wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side with a sigh.

“How much do you think we’ll owe Tony by the end of the day?” He looks down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

He rolls his eyes, but presses a chaste kiss to your hair. “C’mon, you don’t think I haven’t planned out every surface we still need to fuck on before they get back?”

“Clint!”

“See, you keep screaming my name but for all the wrong reasons.” Now you can feel his grin against the top of your head, and it comes into view as he stands with you still in his grasp. You’re not sure how he maneuvers it, but he’s got you in his arms before you can even blink, and the look he sends you tells you not to complain or even question it. He’s not even out of breath -- all things considered -- and when you glance in the direction he’s heading, your eyes widen.

“You have got to be joking…” You squirm in his arms as he sets you down on the table used for almost every meeting, and the mere thought of defiling it forever makes you squeeze your legs together shyly.

But, Clint is quick to spread them, all with a cocky grin and a far too confident tone.

“I don’t know about you…” He begins, as his fingers trail up your thigh. “But I think we could reach ten thousand by midnight.”

If you distantly hear FRIDAY warn adamantly against it -- neither of you mention it.

“Better get started then, Barton.”

---

[itstheimpossibledream]

Catholic School

Summary: Just some Smutty Smut Buuuuut I wanted to do something fun & different. For some reason I thought it was weird to me that Walker seemed so pissed about his parents putting his daughter in catholic school and of course my mind went to find a strange way to make that sexual.Soooooo yeah here’s my first Walker fic. My little black body isn’t a huge fan of glorifying lawenforcement (like we see oftenly in the show) so idk how many more Walker fics we’ll get but, I had to do this one for my Jared girls!

Word Count :2,714

Pairing:Walker x Emily/you( Idk I wrote it weird)

“Is that all of it?” He asked, mock huffing as he set down the container of things at the top of your pyramid of boxes. 

“You better not knock over my stuff.” you shout over your shoulder. As you reach out to resume setting up your bookcase, you hear a shuffle and crash. The box’s contents cover the floor,and instead of scolding him for what you knew he would do ,you turn back to the shelf, right after shooting him a look to let him know he would absolutely be held responsible for removing the mess. 

“I’m sorry babe that’s my fault.” He chuckled, getting onto his knees to begin the process of cleaning up. You just roll your eyes and return to your shelf.

“ Woah ,woah! What is this ? Why haven’t I seen you in this!?!” He exclaims whirling you around and practically smacking you in the face with the skirt from your old high school uniform.

“Because you didn’t go to Our Lady of Peace”t

You retort smartly,smacking the skirt away from your nose.

“See that’s not fair!” He says ,grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in. Cordell Walker wasn’t always the ridiculously goofy & sentimental type. In fact, he was working his way into being one of the best law enforcement officers this area had ever seen. But, as he held the skirt up to your waist, his strong arms around you, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach flip as he kissed directly below your ear before whispering “please”.

As stupid as it was a small part of you did want to know if you could still fit into the uniform. And an even larger part of you couldn’t wait to use it as your secret weapon later, to get out of doing laundry or some other menial household chore. Moving in together was a big step.It was thrilling and exciting but, so far it hasn’t been without its challenges. You noted this part particularly as you looked down at your pile of items discarded from the box; dusting the edge of your peripheral vision.

“Fine” you breathe lightly, feigning disinterest “but you’re gonna regret it.”

“Em. There’s no way that’s possible.” he calls out shooting you a toothy grin. You allow the door to slam behind you ,cutting him off from sharing whatever fantasies he had worked up with the slam of the door between you. Surprisingly, the skirt slipped on with unimaginable ease, and the rest of your time was spent judging yourself in the mirror. The skirt barely covered your butt, you were aware. And the whore in you absolutely couldn’t wait to rush out and show him. Cordell was a calm Texas boy, a sweet and simple lover, truth be told you had wondered often about how to pull out his dark side and this skirt may be just the thing to do it. You had seen him slam suspects against a wall and tackle down perps. But, that was emotion reserved specifically for when he was angry, and never directed towards you. It wasn’t that you wanted him to be upset with you. But, you had been together long enough to understand sweet Walker and something in you desperately wanted to know what was beneath that. 

You took off your t-shirt and threw it in the hamper, allowing the black lace of your bra to show itself fully in connection with the red and black plaid of the skirt.

“You’re done for Walker.” You laugh as you open the door to see him standing in the hallway, he had been waiting for you, practically on his tip-toes jumping for excitement.

“ Oh my gawd.” The Texas twang in his voice was unmistakable. You smile up at him, stepping into the hall when you are met by a large, veiny hand on the skin of your bare stomach. “No.” He says slowly pushing you back into the bedroom. “ I can’t let you go anywhere like that.” You watch the expression on his face, as his eyes turn hungry and his grip changes from pushing you to his fingers lightly digging into your skin.

“Get on the bed.” He commands. You do as you’re told, looking up at him innocently while sitting on the side of the bed.He sits next to you and begins running a hand up your thigh.

“You know you’re ridiculously hot in this outfit right?” You just look at him,pretending to be entirely unaware of what the outfit was doing to him.

“Tell me something.” he says, rubbing the expanse of your leg again. “What’s the sluttiest thing you did in this outfit?” Your eyes shot up to meet his, and then immediately looked away.  

“Unh uhhh.” he warned, moving his hand up from your thigh to meet your warmth. You gasp lightly at his touch, and your response causes a dark smirk to play at the corner of his lips. 

You can feel him push pressure onto your clit and allow yourself to close your eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you never let anyone bend you over a desk and tell you how good it feels to be inside you catholic girl?” he joked. You let out a light moan as  he pushed two fingers inside.

“Your darkest highschool secret.Come on, tell me.” You can feel his breath hitch as you lightly move your hips, changing your position on his fingers. 

“I-I wanted my history teacher.” you breathe. You had no idea why you revealed that.

“Good girl….tell me more.”

“I’d pull my skirt up so  he could see, then I’d bend over and pick up books, or lean all the way over a desk to help a classmate, anything I could do to get his attention.” Once you started talking you couldn’t stop.You wanted to tell him every filthy thing you had ever done or even thought of. 

“Mmmm he made you wet didn’t he baby?” you shut your eyes even tighter not wanting to see his face, for fear of his reaction. A highschool teacher as a student’s first real crush isn’t out of the ordinary but he had a way of bringing out your dirtiest thoughts. 

“Yes.” you allowed out in a shaky breath. He pumped his hands faster into you.

“But you’ve done dirtier things than that right babygirl?” he asks. Fuck .Why did he have to call you baby girl? He knew that was a weakness, and clearly he didn’t intend on taking it easy on you anytime soon. 

“In class” you whisper “I stayed after to finish a test once.” your breathing is becoming ragged, he has to know you don’t have much longer before his hand sends you over the edge. 

“And what happened?” he asks gently near your ear, the smoothness of his voice now, contrasting with the force he is using to fuck his hands into you. 

“I knew he liked me, he couldn’t say it but, he did.”

“So you teased him.” he pushes his fingers into you, sending you over the edge. Your head drops back between your shoulder blades and you open your eyes, to look at him as you moan your way through your orgasm. Looking up at him as innocently as possible.He gets up from the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. You somehow manage to recover, as he moves toward you, setting you up father onto the mattress. He places the pad of his thumb at the top of your bottom lip, running it over the puffy, pink skin of your pout.

“You’re such a beautiful little fuck doll.”he moans , pushing his thumb inside your mouth, you suck on it, submissively. You hear him undoing his pants with his other hand, and soon he’s on top of you, covering your body with his. The skin-to-skin contact is deliciously fulfilling and you want to feel every inch of him over you.

“Open your legs for me princess.” he commands but,your head is swimming with adrenaline and you barely hear him. 

“Don’t make me ask twice, baby.” He says, forcing your knees apart, opening you up wide for him to see. You feel the heat of him next to your opening and roll your hips, trying to get him into you but,he doesn’t allow you to satisfaction. Instead, he leans in, kissing you deeply, exploring your mouth. You watch as he pulls back,your lips graze his adam’s apple slowly kissing down his lightly stubbled neck. Suddenly, you feel his lips close to your ear and he begins questioning you again.

“I like that you’re a good girl.”he says calmly “ But,I know your mind is dirty…...tell me what you really did.”he commands.

“I - I -” he cuts you off from even being able to answer by pushing himself into you, filling you up and causing an involuntary moan to escape your lips. He smiled down at you but,didn’t move his hips. He allows you time to adjust to him, when your breathing steadies, you try to talk again.

“My friend had told me that her boyfriend had fingered her at the movies,I wasn’t really interested in the story but, she did say that it felt good, and I guess I was intrigued or something I don’t know.” He pushed into you slowly, and you could see the  darkness in his eyes. He was revelling in the story,turned on by both your honesty and innocence. 

“I don’t know why, I just couldn’t stay focused on my test.” you tried to return your mind to the story but, you were so enraptured by the pressure he was creating in your body you could barely focus. 

“So I finished the test.” you continued “ and then I just I guess I started day dreaming or something.I don't know-” You trailed off, bucking your hips again, and he moves a hand down to stop you from fucking him, possibly even from making him cum. Every one of his exhales seemed to accompany a moan now and you loved how this was all affecting him. You could tell how incredibly turned on he was and it only worked to make you want to fuck him more. 

“When he came back in the room, my test was finished on my desk but, my hand was down my skirt, and I was moaning out his name.” He started thrusting now, quickly moving from a light pace to a hard pumping into you. “My legs were spread wide, and I remember just cumming all over my fingers.” your voice was becoming ragged now,but you continued. 

“Something about him catching me, and knowing he could see my hand in my underwear peeking out from under my skirt.”you sigh. Quickly, he pulls off out of you, rolling you over and positioning you on all fours. This was new, you had never been opposed to doggy-style but, the good-evangelical texas christian boy he was raised as did have an obvious love for the missionary position.You were jerked out of this realization by his pulling of your hair.He lowers his mouth next to your ear “finish telling me the story.”he commands.

“I don’t remember anything else.” you say trying so hard to balance enough to rub yourself into your next orgasm. He smacks his hips into you, pulling you up even further saying “Good girls don’t lie.You get fucked when you tell the truth.” he whispers. Slowing his pace in you.You feel so frustrated by him denying you your right to orgasm and you start raising your voice at him. 

“I- I liked it.” you divulge “ I didn’t stop when he walked in on me. I wanted him to see, to catch me. It made me so fucking hot, because…… because he didn’t look away.” you exhale roughly. He picks up his pace again, really fucking into you.Grunting hard as he digs his nails into your hips. 

“He liked it babygirl.” he moans out “He loved seeing you in that skirt as much as I do.” he moaned again as, you push your hips back to meet him and he moans again,moving one arm to push your head down,as he fucks into you more forcefully than he ever has before. 

“Fuck Em-”he breathes, right before pluging himself into you. You can feel the coil snap in you,as he fills you with his cum.You become aware of how hard you had been holding onto the bed sheets and how your eyes had blissfully rolled to the back of your head, and caused your entire body to relax. It was amazing how he could do that.The two of you laid there for a few moments just panting in the silence.Eventually, he pulled himself out of you receding to the bathroom, you hear him turn on the faucet, water rushing, turning off the faucet he lightly pads his way back into the room. You had managed to roll over but not change much in appearance.He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into him, interlacing the fingers on his opposite hand with yours.

“What’s on your mind Cordell Walker? “ you asked from a sleepy haze. He was quiet for a moment before answering, letting the silence sit as you drifted off further. 

“ I just really like that skirt.” You can hear him

Smiling to himself.  You brush a finger over his thumb to let him know you’re still awake and that he won’t get off easily, without something deeper than the skirt inspiring the incredible sexual connections you had both experienced. Your mind danced with the silence again. It was the sound of his heartbeat that brought you back to earth, to Texas, to the bed with him. He speaks quietly, his tone just above a whisper,

“ I’m sorry I didn’t use a condom. I know that’s not our thing.” The uncertainty of his voice shocked you “ I just -I wanted to try-“ 

“ I liked it .” You say cutting him off cheerfully without opening your eyes. 

“ Good.” Silence blankets the room again. “ I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to rush the kids' thing. I know we said we’d revisit it once we moved in together.But, if you’re not ready. I don’t see any reason to push it.”

“Well” you said rolling over, “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.I just hope we don’t have a girl.”You sigh.You can feel his chuckle radiate through your body. 

“Well the one thing I do know is she will not go to catholic school.” he joked.You burst into laughter. You were right, he didn’t stand a chance.

“Catholic school creates sluts,what can I say?”you smile to yourself,snuggling in.

“I didn’t say that.” He smiles. You run your hand down his forearm,feeling the strength in his arms as your fingertips trace the vanes mapped out across his limb.” It was late, and moving in,during a Texas summer had been almost unbearable.This was the moment you had finally allowed yourself to rest, and being curled up next to him you felt safe enough to drift off to sleep. Into a world where you and Cordell Walker had a daughter, that would be some world.She’d be gorgeous just like her father of course.Probably as headstrong and emotional too. You had always pictured yourself having a boy though. 

No matter what the two of you eventually ended up with, it was clear he would be an amazing dad. You fell asleep smiling to yourself, knowing that as long as the two of you had each other, everything would be alright. Moving in, may have been the best thing the two of you had ever done.

[imperiuswrecked]

To me, it doesn’t make sense to make Magneto the main villain because it has been done so much before and it would connect it so much to the Fox Films. Also I think there is a GREAT laziness in writing Magneto especially in films. He generally didn’t want to kill all humans, subjugate them yes because he doesn’t trust them. Which isn’t a ‘good guy’ move in itself and he slips in and out of.

He legit murdered genocide I think when he was going to kill all humans. Like no.

I also think that the average cinema goer likes Magneto too much… or maybe that is me. It would also require them to recast the most famous faces of the franchises?

Like is anyone going to care if they recast Jean, Scott, Iceman, Rogue, Kitty, Beast even Mystique but Magneto? I don’t know. I have long been a fan of an actual Jewish actor playing Magneto but following Ian McKellan would be difficult for the casual fans to accept. I don’t think Fassbender left such an amazing impression.

Even my most average MCU fans friends (and god they love the MCU 😤 but I see past it) still talk about how much they want to see a Magneto solo film.

To me I would put the focus on their reveal and sentinels. Then again I thought they’ll go through Krakoa stuff. Like it turns out the mutants have been living on this Island etc

With the ‘simpler times’ comment I have to for the sake of my sanity have to think that it was because Pietro knew where he was. Things were clear to him, as much as it hurt he had his sister. The following trauma had not occurred. Again I don’t think this is true but I am trying to reason bad writing. He didn’t doubt his morality but was indebted and controlled. Shitty actions were out of his control.

I don’t read Avengers so I didn’t know he was shelved for so long.

I think the Trial of Magneto is trying to ride on the coattails of Wandavision because even though she’s not a mutant a lot of the internet was wanting Magneto to show up. So what is the best way to get those fans who wanted to see that? Set up a family comic book where they establish the family again because I guess the MCU fans heard they’ve changed their background and themselves didn’t like it.

I see the Trial of Magneto as something poorly thought out as they saw what the audience was interested in. The timeline kind of clashes uncomfortably with Inferno. Which makes me think it was wedged in there to ride the Wandavision train and undo the retcon on the side of the main storyline.

Thank you for reading my essay/rant

Ok so I'm going to first say you have a lot of great thoughts and great on picking up the whole forced feeling. You are right, it does feel wedged in there and it does feel forced because that's exactly what Marvel did.

The Trial of Magneto was supposed to be an X-Factor plot, it was Leah Williams next arc, here's an article link talking about her podcast: link (yes I know it's bleeding cool but I don't have time to listen to the podcast)

Leah Williams tells us that X-Factor was canceled because Leah's pitch for the Magneto/Wanda story for X-Factor, now called Trial Of Magneto, became such a popular pitch at Marvel but they thought the reader numbers for X-Factor wasn't big enough for this story, so they wanted it as a separate comic. And canceled X-Factor #10 rather than seeing it run as originally planned, with the Trial beginning in X-Factor #15. Williams says she only learned about the cancellation of X-Factor when she was writing #9, so as she had to finish the series quickly, squeezing six issues worth of story into those last two issues, calling it "cramped and rushed".

So I'm not a fan of Leah but the way Marvel treats it's writers has always been terrible so this cancellation doesn't surprise me. Could this be about W*ndaVision? It's likely, but it's more likely this has to do with Hickman bowing out. It's no secret literally everyone hated the retcon and I always knew it would be undone but I didn't think it would take 6 years but here we are.

Hickman leaving is a bigger thing, he stated in an interview ( link ) that he had planned Krakoa and X-Men to be a 3 arc story, and he wasn't allowed to move onto the 2nd arc because the clowns at Marvel liked the idea of Krakoa too much and I'm so mad because that's exactly the kinda behavior that annoys me with the fans, them thinking Krakoa is just a fun playground for the mutants to mess around with.

"Oh, plans have changed entirely," Hickman says. "When I pitched the X-Men story I wanted to do, I pitched a very big, very broad, three-act, three-event narrative, the first of which was House of X. And while this loosely worked as a three-year plan, I told Marvel upfront that I honestly had no idea how long the first part would last because there were a lot of interesting ideas that I had seeded that other creators would want to play with, and so, we left this rather open-ended. I was also pretty clear with all the writers that came into the office what the initial, three-act plan was so no one would be surprised when it was time for the line to pivot." Hickman continues, "However, I also knew that I was cooking with dynamite, and it was very possible that what I had written in House of X, and the ideas contained within, was not actually the first act of a three-act story, but something that resonated more deeply and worked more like Giant-Size X-Men, where it would represent a paradigm shift in the entire X-Men line for a prolonged period of time. So, during the pandemic, when the time came for me to start pointing things toward writing the second-act event, I asked everyone if they were ready for me to do that, and to a man, everyone wanted to stay in the first act. It was really interesting, because I appreciated that House of X resonated with them to the extent that they didn't want it to end, but the reality was that I knew I would be leaving the line early."

I'm so MAD because the thing I was predicting, that Hickman would have it come crashing down and everything would be revealed to be terrible and Mutant Death Sex Cult Island wasn't a paradise is never going to happen because the fucking CLOWNS at Marvel don't want him to move past it. I may have my personal gripes about some of Hickman's writing but we can't deny the man wrote one of the best if only the best Marvel Event with Fantastic Four/Avengers/Secret War.

As for the simpler times comment, like I have my theories that I wrote out here, and that's what I think is most likely but I do think Pietro's life has never been easy or simple once his adoptive parents died. Pietro could be drinking to a time before the Brotherhood.

I would love for a Jewish actor to play Magneto and any other characters who are Jewish. I would love for a Jewish writer to be able to write them too. However Ian's performance literally set him in the minds of the people as Magneto, not even Fassbender's bleh one note Magneto could compare. Imo the only reason people liked the younger Magneto was because he was young, handsome (? ig idk i dont simp for him) and they could ship him with young professor X (cowards. where is the old man ship???) But I feel like a new actor could definitely fill the role if they are Jewish and the writing was good.

Magneto's writing in comics... well I just wish we could have a Jewish writer for him. There's some great stuff for him but I feel like characters like him and Doom could be written better by non white/american writers.

Although by today's standards the og X-Men trilogy doesn't hold up I will defend the first two movies with my life simply because after Blade these movies opened up the idea that a good serious, non campy version where characters called Magneto and Cyclops were taken seriously. X2 in my mind was the definitive X-Men movie. Was it totally comic accurate? No, but it doesn't do what the MCU does, it doesn't treat the watcher like they need to have their hand held through all the military propaganda and "hints to the comics". Also side note; the reason no one cared about any of the other X-Men being recast is because all through most of the X-Men movies the focal story point has been Professor X vs Magneto. If they really want people to care about those characters/actors then we would need stories that focused on them. Not like how Storm barely had any character growth or plot in the og X-Men and even young Ororo got mishandled by the script. This is why I feel we should have "origin movies" for the X-Men that don't do what Wolverine Origins did and try to make a whole new cast but instead should use the stories as they are. If it was Kurt's story then we would see him join the X-Men, and have the other actors revolve around that. Same with each of the others, the X-Men work best when they are working off each other and each given enough screen/page time to shine. Unfortunately we all have our favorites, even movies and writers, so those are who are going to be pushed for fans to love.

Thank you for your long rant and sorry for my own long rant/reply.

[firelxdykatara]

kitty i can't wait for your thoughts of Shadow and Bone asdfasfaw

Ok well I just finished and I have so many fucking thoughts. Most good! Some, less so. Part of it may just be my bias because I’ve only read the Six of Crows duology and have little interest in actually reading the original trilogy, because I know how it ends and Leigh clearly hates me personally and doesn’t want me to be happy (/j), so I was already predisposed to be far more invested in the Crows and Darkling/Darklina segments (genuinely, the Mal/Malina scenes/storyline bored me to tears, and while I appreciate that the show went out of its way to change Mal’s character to make him much less of a toxic douchebag [I’ve read enough excerpts and explanations of his actions in the books to really loathe book!Malina], it isn’t enough to make me ship them when Darklina is right there), but I also don’t think it’s a stretch to say that the Crows absolutely stole the show.

It’s actually kind of funny, because I’d assumed they were only being so heavily marketed to hype the show up even more, since while there’s a lot of TGT/SoC fandom overlap they are also two fundamentally different genres and I’d wager there are a lot of people who are massive fans of one but not so enthused with the other, while remaining fairly insignificant to the overall plot. Turns out, they make up fully half of the show’s runtime (much to my delight). Which is part of what I think will help this series stand on its own, both as a book adaptation and simply as a fantasy TV series.

I’ll put more of my story-specific thoughts under a cut, so there’s lots of show spoilers to follow!

I know that a lot of early reviewers were saying that Alina’s motivations and storyline revolved too much around Mal, and that really held true for me. It made sense in the beginning--he was the only constant in her life, she was thrust into something new, terrifying, and completely unfamiliar, and they’d developed an unhealthy codependence as a coping mechanism for their childhoods and the traumas they faced, the lives they lead growing up in a war-torn country. But she started coming into her power, falling for the General--not just his power and charisma, but what she felt when she was with him. The way he helped her summon the sun, the way she felt free in a way she never had before.

Until it all went to shit--but the Darklina make-out scene in episode 5? Fucking iconic. Poetic fucking cinema. The way they were quite literally about to have sex on that wartable (and someone better write fic of that moment, what if they hadn’t gotten interrupted), and the General left, but then he ran back just to kiss her one more time... this is what OTPs are made of ok.

I think what really bothers me overall is that Alina ultimately lacked agency in her one storyline, pretty much the entire way through. She did make a few choices, but they were mostly incidental, and a lot of it was Alina desperately trying to get back to Mal rather than seizing her own power and destiny and running with it. The most prominent example is the end of episode 5--Alina is having happy make-outs and almost bones the General in his own war room, and then he leaves, and Baghra comes in and infodumps to her about how evil he is and how he’s only using her and she needs to escape.

I recognize that a lot of this is probably because that’s essentially what happened in the book and Leigh is an executive producer for the show so she has a lot of shot-calling power. However, I really think that even in the book this plotline would’ve been better-served by having Alina make these discoveries on her own.

For example, imagine that the letters which were used as framing devices for episodes 2 and 3 were vitally important to the plot, rather than being one-offs that are mentioned a few times but not really affecting much of anything. Alina begins to get suspicious when she doesn’t receive word from Mal, and she starts wondering if her letters are even reaching him--so she starts snooping. She finds ashes in the war room hearth, late at night,, and recognizes a fragment of Mal’s signature and larger piece of her own. She now knows that someone--possibly the General, but maybe that creepy priest guy, or someone else in the palace--is keeping her and Mal from contacting one another. So she starts snooping around even more. She asks the General leading questions, trying to figure out what the truth is of his intentions. She still feels this pull--this connection to him, and she hopes she’s wrong, but she’s not willing to just sit around and wait for the other shoe to drop.

The Winter Fete still happens, she still gets the hot make-out session with the General, and then when he’s called away, she snoops through his papers, looking for anything that can tell her the truth. She finds a hidden compartment filled with journals.

She reads about Aleksander’s past (and, incidentally, wasn’t that supposed to be a huge moment in the books, him revealing his true name to her in private? kinda wish it had been kept that way in the show but who knows where they’ll go with it in the future)--that leads to the flashbacks in episode 6. She feels for him, but she also reads further--she gets a firsthand look at his desire for power, something that began as a noble desire to save his people, but was twisted by a lust for vengeance (for his lost love and all the Grisha who were killed) and shot through with greed, the realization that if he found the Sun Summoner he could control the Fold, rather than just destroy it. He could create a new world where Grisha could live without fear--where Grisha could rule.

Alina is terrified. Whoever the General used to be--whatever humanity she saw flickering in his eyes, the way his heart fluttered when they kissed--she can’t trust that it’ll be enough to save her from plans centuries in the making. So she goes to Baghra, the woman who helped her discover her power, learn to channel it--the woman who always seemed to know much more than she ever let on. Baghra gives her side of the story--Alina got it from the General’s perspective first, now Baghra is telling her something framed much differently. She isn’t sure what or who to trust, but she knows that Baghra seems willing to help her escape--but rather than trusting her ‘loyal Grisha’, she makes the choice she made in the show, to choose the other path, and winds up with the Crows.

Idk how Mal and the Stag thing would fit into this (if it isn’t obvious by now, Mal just... doesn’t interest me), but Alina’s story and her character arc would be so much stronger for it. And she’s supposed to be the central character, so her story being weak and her agency so frequently being compromised ultimately hurts the show as a whole.

I know I’ve gone on and on about Alina and the Darkling (look, I’m a slut for enemies-to-lovers, and also lovers-to-enemies-and-back, so Darklina and Helnik are where so much of my investment is rooted--plus Kanej, but that almost goes without saying), but the true standouts of the series were the Crows. Inej, Kaz, and Jesper, and Nina and Matthias in their episodes, stole the show (along with the Darkling, Ben is far and away the best actor in the cast and I love that for him, but Freddy, Amita, and Kit are also amazing, and Danielle&Calahan were fucking phenomenal as Nina and Matthias--I do have to say, though, that the whole cast is really solid and has amazing chemistry).

They worked together so perfectly--Freddy and Amita communicated so much with their eyes alone, especially together, and a whole lot of their relationship dynamic is rooted in how they exist together, which really came through. The show altered the Crows timeline considerably (I’m pretty sure Kaz would’ve been 14 during the original trilogy lol), so Inej is still at the Menagerie, but things like Kaz putting up the Crow Club for Inej’s freedom, the way Kaz needed her but could never bring himself to say it (until the end of the season dklhfgdkjfgh i SCREAMED)--the way Jesper played off the both of them, and it’s so obvious they all love each other even though they’re criminals and thieves and murderers, and Kaz would never admit it (out loud--which actually feeds into my theory that his love language is acts of service; Kaz does things for the people he cares about, he never announces it and he will almost always try to downplay it, but the way you know he cares is if, for example, he puts his entire life, everything he built, up as collateral for your freedom), but they’re a family.

One thing that I was kind of iffy about was Inej’s refusal to kill--but I thought it might be something they were planning to work into her overall character arc, and they did. It was the one line she hadn’t crossed--in the books, I’d imagine that it took a while for Inej to wind up at that point, being willing to kill on top of everything else. So I actually like that they worked that into the Crows plotline, and Inej killing for the first time was to save Kaz’s life.

Just like Kaz’s first selfless act was to save her.

(He’d deny it, of course. He protects his investments. He needed her for the job. But the truth is, he did it for her. And he’d do it again. Even if he’d never admit it.)

Meanwhile, Nina and Matthias’ storyline was pretty much note-for-note according to their backstory as it was revealed in Six of Crows, and I loved every second of it. Their chemistry was perfect, their journey from enemies to begrudging allies to friends to maybe something more (Matthias’ stomach cockblocking them when they were about to kiss had me fucking SCREAMING AT THE TV, and then of course the whole ‘betraying him to save him’ thing happened and I sobbed), and then suddenly right back to enemies.

Because from Matthias’ perspective, he trusted a witch--believed in her, liked her, wanted her--and she turned on him. He has no idea that she wasn’t the one who knocked him out in the first place, and no reason to believe her, because as far as he knows, she just confirmed everything he’d ever been told about Grisha. That they are deceitful and treacherous, would turn on you as soon as look at you, that they are dangerous and not to be trusted. It wasn’t revealed in-show but I imagine Matthias’ backstory is largely the same, which means that his entire family was slaughtered by Grisha when he was a young boy, and then he was turned into a brainwashed child soldier by the witch hunters and never knew anything else.

They are perfectly primed for their SoC arc next season and I, for one, am so stoked to see the rest of their journey. And if I slip Netflix a couple twenties, maybe they’ll let Helnik have a happy ending please please please.

Anyway, yeah! I have a lot of thoughts but things are still percolating in my head so I’ll probably float around the tags for a bit and let things settle. This is just a preliminary overview of my thoughts in the immediate aftermath of bingeing the entire show in one night kldfjghdkjfhgkjgf

EDIT TO ADD: I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT ABOUT THE TRUE STAR OF THE SHOW, M I L O

MILO BEST BOY. MILO THE MVP. MILO DESERVES ALL THAT IS GOOD IN THE WORLD AND I HOPE HE LIVES A HAPPY AND HEALTHY AND FULL LITTLE GOAT LIFE.

[greensaplinggrace]

What makes Dishonored your favorite game?

The biggest thing for me was the lore and the atmosphere. No game I've played has ever had such a well-incorporated feel and sense of immersion to it like Dishonored except for Bishock 1, which is incidentally my second favorite game of all time lol. The lore is brilliant, the world is creative, the atmosphere is spectacular, the soundtrack is to die for, and it taught me a lot about how to create a city and a world and a system of myths and religion and tales and perspectives.

The way it's set in a steampunk/clockpunk/fantasy world where whaling is the primary source of energy is brilliant. The books and papers and notes you can read throughout the game are endlessly fascinating, and the different perspectives you come across in writing on certain characters throughout is especially interesting to me. Granny Rags is amazing, Slackjaw is great, the Loyalists were quite a unique set of allies, and Daud is probably my favorite antagonist of all time.

The stealth and magic system is the only one of its kind I've ever come across, and literally no other game compares in quality to stealth missions and chaos systems and gameplay except maybe Assassin's Creed, and that depends on which game we're talking about. After playing Dishonored I legitimately scoured the internet for games like it that had good stealth/magic and nothing else was as good.

Also, I love the exploration of classism and the critiques on society. The main antagonist is the game is vile, and the reveal for why he did what he did will always stick with me. The Boyle party is my favorite part of the game despite my beef with the low honor choice. Largely because of a) the aesthetic, which is breathtaking throughout the entire game but especially on this mission, b) the boyle sisters themselves, who are very complex and who you can learn a great deal about through exploring their home before even meeting them, and c) the fact that even in this rich person's mansion, as all these wealthy and privileged people dine on a vast amount of food making small talk while the rest of the city starves and dies and bodies pile like mountains in the flooded district, there is still blood on the floor.

The disconnect when hearing the rich wonder why they're also dying to the plague is well done, too. The fact that they never even considered they would be vulnerable because they judge the lower classes so much.

The heart, which is probably the greatest part of the game, spilling secrets and giving you knowledge. A horrifying companion that tells you everything about the world you're in. It's such a great way to incorporate more lore as well as highlight the complex lives of the characters you're surrounded by. Even a random man wandering the street has a story the heart will tell you. I like that. I like how even the side characters feel fleshed out. There's no part of that world or that city that doesn't have a purpose. There's no piece of that game that feels worthless. You point the heart not even at a person but at a place and it will tell you the secrets of the world. That's the type of worldbuilding I admire. That's the type of lore that means something to me.

The religion is cool. The Outsider is interesting. The void as a concept is genius and the way its explored is so incredibly compelling. I love the way magic and religion are tied together. I enjoy the way cultism is explored. I ADORE the abbey and the religious corruption and how tied it is with the government. Just the entire setup of the government/accepted religion/'heretical' religion is really great.

There are dozens of ways to complete the missions and explore the city. Playing the game without powers is fun af. You are a rat bastard. I love the rats in this game. I love the powers in this game. You can have charms made out of bones and you can find shrines to the outsider and you can teleport in front of your allies without them even going "hey! why does this dude have a strange heretical marking on his hand?!" The powers are fun, the void is fun, the dynamics of the game are fun. It's just fun. I mean, maybe a bit too easy now, imo. I have to set it on very hard and make sure its basically unbeatable to really have a challenge anymore.

Corvo as a character seems dull at first when you don't get much of his story in the first game, but his potential and the pieces of his history that are dropped occasionally by npcs and his relationship with emily make him pretty fucking stellar, imo. You learn more about him and his relationships with people as the game progresses. The way the world changes is so interesting.

Like idk, I could go on but this is already enough of a ramble. It's just... really good. It was also the game that got me back into videogames. I had a massive gaming slump for about five years where nothing interested me. I gave Dishonored a try and loved it so so much I started playing other games again. Luckily I then played Bioshock 1, and that passion didn't immediately die. So really it just holds a sentimental place in my heart as well. Also I majorly shipped the Corvo/Jessamine/Daud OT3 you guys have no idea.

(fill my inbox)

[urmomsstuntdouble]

congrats on 100! is it possible for you to write some headcanons for china?

of course! and ty! also, quick shoutout to @mysticalmusicwhispers for some of the inspiration for this :)

He is a firm believer in the concept of chaotic time (i will be discussing various interpretations of time as they are described in The Fourth Turning by Neil Howe and William Strauss, as their books about American generations live rent free in my brain), which is defined as “history having no path. Events follow one another randomly, and any effort to impute meaning to their whirligig succession is hopeless.” It’s sort of the original way that people percieved time, and this interpretation of time can be found in a lot of indigenous cultures, as well as in popular nihilism. I think part of why Yao thinks this is because of all the changes in political leadership he’s had throughout his life, which prevent him from being able to apply an overall narrative to the universe. This can make some things like diplomacy a little difficult for him, as many of the other world powers are proponents of linear time- The idea of “time as a unique (and usually progressing) story with an absolute beginning and an absolute end.” 

That’s not to say that Yao is terrible at diplomacy- He’s actually very good at it, and can talk people into buying just about anything from him. 

He has an entire house that’s just filled with his old stuff. Clothes, pottery, paintings, manuscripts, trinkets, et cetera. It’s not very organized, though, and some things can never be moved because if somebody were to touch them, the objects might get damaged. 

His weapon of choice is a gùn staff, when it comes to gun-less fighting. I think he likes to bop people on the head with it when they’re being annoying. 

This is sort of based on some ancient chinese military history that i don’t fully recall so I’m not sure what to type into google but. very deadly with the gùn. 

On that note, he’s very well practiced in both Northern and Southern style Shaolin kung fu, but you probably wouldn’t know that unless you’d been around him for a while. He gives me massive “old person doing tai chi in the park” vibes. Where kung fu is concerned, I think his favorite animal thingy would be the crane? I feel like he’d really like a lot of crane forms even though he’s a bit short for it. (also im very sorry if im getting this wrong or talking about it in the wrong way! i pracitce shaolin kung fu, although i haven’t been able to really engage with it during the pandemic, so my memory might not be 10/10)

His spice tolerance?? through the roof. The things this man eats could kill a human

To me, Yao feels like one of the most human characters in hetalia, because he’s the oldest. Part of this is just because he’s the oldest, so he’s been through the most stuff- While other prominent characters are depicted as being kind of messy young adults who haven’t figured everything out yet, Yao has a calmness about him due to his age. Don’t get me wrong he’s still a bit messy, but he’s messy by choice?? like. from @peonycats latest china drawing. that was voluntary. But at the same time, I think he could fit the wise old mentor trope if he had the patience to be a mentor. He’s lived through so much that he has experience with pretty much everything one could encounter. This is also a double edged sword, because it can make him a bit impatient, especially with things he feels he’s already seen and done before. Sometimes he’s just over it, ya know? (side note i feel like that’s smth he’d be able to bond with India over- being done with all these modern kids who want to do stuff that he’s just endlessly bored by.)

He has a love-hate relationship with C-dramas. On the one hand, they’re interesting stories and imbue nostalgia. On the other hand, they can be super historically inaccurate at times- One complaint I’ve heard is that the hairstyles are often inaccurate for the sake of making the actors look really pretty. 

short king

His government is often wary and not trusting of him, because they see him as being a sort of relic from previous times. Like a potential threat to their sovereignty? idk, just. mutual distrust. 

idk where this came from but I’ve seen the hc that one time the italy brothers were like yo you knew our grandpa right? we just wanna talk- and then china goes yah we used to fuck and i think that’s so funny

He nibbles at his food, eating sort of like a bird, and does the same with water. 

Despite being kind of thin himself, will absolutely pester the shit out of his kids (even if theyre on bad terms) for not eating enough. in the same breath he’ll also berate them for eating unhealthily, and take huge offense if they won’t eat his food. like even if they’re just not hungry that time yao will develop a grudge and he’ll make sure you remember that you didn’t want to eat his food that one time. how rude of you >:(

i probably have more thoughts but theyre either too jumbled/not well worded in my brain or not present at the moment. i hope you enjoyed these!

writing requests

[zhuhongs]

Upon rereading tgcf, one of the biggest complaints I have is how lackluster all the extra chapters were. literally none of them were good and all contained rlly gross and harmful sentiments (like the amnesia one which.. yea.. or all the things implying xl should get pregnant for hc thus equating gay relationships with hetero ones and playing into the wife thing and just GOD I HATE MXTX) 

There were a lot of little plot points i wish that had been further elaborated on more in the extras as opposed to hualian being ... like that. I had enough. Like mdzs had actaully good extras (minus the incense burners) that were nice side stories that elaborated more on the characters. Like the hook one with the juniors was so cute and i loved seeing them grow more. Or the lotus pod extras omg.. im such a lotus pod extra stan. those were so cute and gave us a lot of good insight into just how lovestruck lwj was during the times when he didn’t see wwx. mxtx should've stuck to those sorta extras in tgcf but NOOO. SO I have a list of so many other more interesting things those chapters couldve been spent on like:

A resolution on He Xuan’s revenge and his character arc. Bc its implied He Xuan is still hanging out and watching over sqx and that taking revenge didn’t fully satisfy him bc ok.. yea shi wudu is dead but he xuans family will never come back. Now what does he have to live for?? i wish we couldve seen a look into his life during the entire ordeal. like a chapter from his perspective while he was posing as Ming Yi  and maybe a look at a conversation btw he xuan and the real ming yi or a chapter after SQX was banished to see what he’s doing now. Also what did he xuan owe hua cheng money for anyways?? Like ik not every little thing has to be explained but I Want to Know. PLEASE more goth boyfriend content now I just wanna see him :,((

a better resolution of yin yu and quan yizhens storyline. im still mad abt how that plot point was split btw books 3 and 5  when it was rlly out of place and  there were other more pressing plot matters and it just rlly deserved more time. Also i thought yin yu died!?!?!? but apparently one of the extras says he’s alive and man... i;m not reading any more of the extras to see that, give me a full yin yu and quan yizhen chapter.. fuck.

a day in the life of the guoshi fangxin or general hua PLEASE especially like one where hua cheng was SO CLOSE to meeting xie lian but had no clue that xie lian was there at the time but the two did smth that inadvertantly helped the other and they still were connected even though they hadnt met omg pls that’d be so nice. like imagine Hua cheng catching a glimpse of the guoshi in public in yong’an while he’s trying to follow some lead that points to xie lian or maybe following a lead to capture qi rong bc he said he knew qi rong was a part of the yong’an stuff and originally thought the guoshi was one of qi rongs pawns. like can you IMAGINE him getting so close. but at the last second he did smth small that impacted xie lian. like they bumped into eachother on the street or smth. god i’d go crazy

OR vice versa.. like a day in the life of the young ghost king hua cheng. Like again, one of my biggest issues was that hua cheng just knew everything and its never really explained how he got all of that info. like yes he’s been alive very long and has eyes and ppl working for him everywhere but like... how did he build that network?? I’d love to see a chapter of young ghost king hua cheng travelling around trying to learn as much as he can abt the world and how it can help bring him to xie lian. and the two maybe are in the same kingdom for a bit and they don’t meet exactly but hua cheng stops some fight or something and helps xie lian indirectly or maybe xie lian is performing on the street in some costume and hua cheng doesn’t recognize him and smiles and gives him a coin or smth. idk i’m just dying for any sorta extra chapter or fic like that. i’m honestly so tempted to write my own but i cant write

also!! we’ve seen how xie lian picks up people down on their luck near him and show them kindness (like banyue, lang ying, xiao ying, he tried to with san lang but we know how that ended lmao) so i’d love to see another little vignette of him doing that on his travels and how every person he meets teaches him smth about life and being a good person and idk, i just think it’d be rlly sweet. i love this facet of his character and feel like we didn’t see enough of it towards the end.

ALSO hua cheng only seems to respect one heavenly official besides xie lian and thats yushi huang.. i assume thats mostly bc she was the only one to help xie lian and let him use the rain master hat to bring water to yong’an. I was thinking maybe when he was a new supreme he had run into trouble and maybe was picked up by the rain master and helped him heal and in return he promised to help protect her village from harm in the future. Like i know a heavenly official wouldn’t cooperate with a ghost like that but yushi huang is different and doesn’t really care about the heavens so i think she would protect him if he could do something to benefit her village. ik this is kinda far fetched but when he first became a supreme I’m sure a bunch of ppl probably tried to mess with him and didn’t rlly believe him to be undefeatable bc he hadn’t proved himself yet also i doubt all his power came overnight. he had to learn how to use it once he escaped the kiln. and some group probably thought they could weaken him somehow. I’m thinking maybe a rlly well formed group of ghosts actually caught him off guard once and he had to retreat and was picked up by the rain master and stayed with her and learned from her a bit. i think it’d be a cool concept also i just rlly want more yushi huang content and i’m on their friendship agenda bc he rlly did seem to actually respect her when she first appeared and i think it’d be cool if the two had some history together.

Also idrc if this was addressed I couldve missed it But!! Did xie lian ever tell Hua cheng that the reason he got the curse shackles and was banished again in the first place wasnt bc jun wu wanted to punish him, but because he requested it. And specifically requested it bc he felt guilty abt letting wu ming take the human face disease and disperse for his sake. So he took the shackles and descended to atone for that?? Bc I dont recall hua cheng learning that bc his soul was already dispersed at that point so it didnt follow him and xie lian didnt say anything so uhhh... someone should tell hua cheng that. Like I dont think xie lian rlly said how much hua cheng meant to him and didnt show him he was loved in grand ways. Like xie lian did always care for bc in other ways but I think if hua cheng learned abt this on screen it wouldve been such a great moment and I'm rlly surprised mxtx didnt address this iirc!?!? Like imagine jun wu telling Hua cheng this in the kiln bc xie lian wouldnt say it himself. Imagine how cool that would be.

Also a small thing adding into the whole young ghost king Hua cheng stuff. Its implied and p much stated that hua cheng isnt his real name. That he likely doesnt have a real name bc his parents died? (It's not clear. I'm still mad at mxtx for not making his childhood clearer). So I'd like to see when and why hua cheng chose that name for himself. The new tgcf ending song kinda hints at its meaning with the lyrics "for you I'd fill a city of flowers" as xie lian is the flower wielding martial god so it's probably inspired by that. Also xie lian saved hua cheng from leaping off the city walls but I'd love to hear him say it bc the implication of his name didnt dawn on me for quite a bit and I dont know if everyone made the connection. Again I sure as hell didnt. So itd be cool to see a chapter that takes place in his past after just ascending as a supreme

Overall I rlly think tgcf had a lot more potential to be even better and a lot of that comes down to fleshing out the side characters and letting hualian have more of a storyline independent of one another. like i know the appeal and message of tgcf is that through love, people can overcome anything, but fuck man. i just wanna see what these two (mostly hua cheng) where like in the absence of each others presence. Part of what I really liked abt mdzs is that we got to see that longing develop btw wangxian when the two weren’t together and how they thought about each other and did things in thei others spirit bc they knew the other wouldve done the same thing. but whatever, mxtx was too consumed by her own unhealthy idea of what devotion and true love looks like but still. i rlly think the extras couldve helped the story be better rather than be fujoshi fuel that i try to bleach from my mind -_-

[sheirukitriesfandom]

Hi all,

After being inspired by @littlegalerion‘s rant about the College and her ideas for a rewrite, I’ve decided to try my hand at a rewrite myself. Some of Littlegalerion’s ideas have found their way into my rewrite as well because they are just that good. Many thanks for letting me use them. Warning: this is a very long post and it does contain spoilers for the original questline.

For this alternate questline the original situation remains the same (Savos is archmage, Mirabelle master-wizard and Ancano remains a thalmor), however, there are way more "trivial" quests early on. 

For example, before the first lesson with Tolfdir, the DB has to recover his alembic (Tolfdir just can't live without the damn thing idk). Then the lesson goes as planned, but the DB isn't yet sent to Saarthal. Instead, they're approached by Onmund for his personal quest.The DB doesn't have to complete it for the next lesson to start (thinking of a 12 or 24 hour cooldown), but due to the cool down why wouldn't they? 

This pattern repeats for each of the magic schools, each requiring a quest for the professors (Missing apprentices for Phinis, Bullying Nirya for Faralda ir getting the two to end their feud, etc.). After the destruction and illusion lessons, the player is approached by J'zargo and Brelyna for their quests. Each lesson also advances the respective skill. Once the lessons are done, the students are invited to Saarthal where the quest proceeds as usual except that Quaranir doesn't appear. So the DB discovers the eye, informs Savos and is sent to retrieve the books.

For this quest, the DB is joined by Ancano, who claims to be interested in the Caller's studies (it's hinted that he's after the books too). Once the DB returns to the college, time stops and a psijic appears saying that by removing the eye a chain of events has been set in motion and that the eye mustn't be used by anyone and that they should seek out the Augur. The DB returns the books to Urag. Also, the DB gets a dialogue option to ask ALL staff about the psijics AND/OR the Augur, with answers ranging from "I don't know" to the answers we get in game and maybe some explanation of the psijic order as keepers of dangerous magical relics. When it comes to the Augur most people will also mention that the archmage made it clear that the subject isn't to be talked about. 

Tolfdir will still be the one to direct the player to the Augur.The player speaks to the Augur, who reveals that Ancano also sought information about the Eye and that the Staff of Magnus is needed. Once the DB returns to inform Savos they're stopped by Ancano, who has been watching the DB and knows they've spoken to the Augur. Ancano is suspicious of the DB and reminds them that he'll be watching them closely. The DB then proceeds to inform Savos, but is stopped by Mirabelle coming from the archmage's quarters. She says the archmage is deeply immersed in his research and doesn't want to be bothered. Here, a speech check or a small distraction courtesy of your J'zargo will allow the player to pass. 

Savos isn't just reluctant like he is in the game, he's in outright denial about the staff being important. However, with enough speech checks Savos eventually reveals that the Synod were asking for it. Should those speech checks not be passed, the player will have to ask around. In that case, Mirabelle will inform them eventually. 

The expedition to Mzulft is left entirely unchanged.Upon returning from Mzulft the entrance to the Hall of the Elements is blocked by a ward, with Mirabelle and Tolfdir frantically discussing how to break through, all the while a very indignant Ancano demands to know what's going on. 

As it turns out, Savos shut himself inside the hall trying to "do something" to the orb.Tolfdir and Mirabelle then attack the barrier asking the DB to help them.The spell needed to take down the barrier would also be at least adept level. 

Together, Tolfdir, Mirabelle, the DB and Ancano storm into the hall. Mirabelle approaches Savos, asking him why, after all those years, he would betray the college and his friends like that, pleading him to stop. Savos' response doesn't make much sense. Something about it being necessary, about correcting a mistake.He asks Mirabelle to leave him be, desperation clearly audible in his voice, but when she refuses he attacks her and the explosion happens. And so, Savos ends up killing his loyal friend and master-wizard. Tolfdir needs a moment to recover and tells the DB to look for Ancano. 

Eventually, they find Ancano outside reporting the events to the rest of the faculty until he's interrupted by a Winterhold guard storming into the courtyard while yelling about the town being attacked by magic anomalies.

Quickly, Faralda takes the sceptre into her own hands, instructing the teachers to contain the barrier as she and the apprentices head for the town. The DB gets the objective to help them, but is stopped by Ancano, who reveals the information he got from the Augur: the eye may be capable of rewriting or even unmaking reality. He sees the eye in the hands of the archmage as a threat, so Savos needs to be stopped. 

The DB helps their fellow apprentices fight back the anomalies. When they're done, they're joined by Ancano. Once the DB mentions Labyrinthian Ancano reveals that Aren kept something in his chambers of that he was very protective, almost obsessively so, and that it may well be linked to Labyrinthian seeing as it used to be a training ground for future archmages.

The DB is tasked with investigating the archmage's quarters. There, the extend of Savos' planning, his research into the eye and his growing paranoia regarding the DB become clear. Eventually, the DB recovers the torc of Labyrinthian and heads off. 

Back in town the apprentices ask to join the DB on that dangerous journey. At this point, the DB can choose to take Onmund, J'zargo or Brelyna to Labyrinthian or go alone/with a non-questline companion. 

Labyrinthian remains the same story wise, but the dungeon itself contains way more wards and magical traps, requiring the DB to use a decent amount of spells. Oh, and no Estormo, sorry.

When the DB returns to Winterhold, the barrier has enveloped the entire college. The faculty have gathered outside, along with the remaining students and an injured Ancano, whom Colette is taking care of. Tolfdir, having recovered, explains that they were not strong enough to contain the barrier any longer. He is then interrupted by Faralda asking whether you have the staff.

Upon confirmation, the DB begins to dismantle the barrier layer by layer using the staff of Magnus, being thrown back every so often. With each destroyed layer, the DB receives a “vision”, a fragment of Savos' mind, though twisted and erratic.Those “visions” fill in the missing gaps: He was trying to undo his mistake in Labyrinthian by using the eye's reality bending powers. When the DB finally destroys the last ward the last vision is just an amalgamation of various ways to say sorry, a last cry for forgiveness. 

At this point, Savos is too far gone, having been consumed by the power of the eye. The DB and friends fight against Savos, with him using summons, locking allies in wards or frenzying them, etc. A real wizard battle ensues. At the end of it all Savos lies on the floor, broken and dying. When the DB approaches him, a dialogue begins. In a final moment of clarity Savos realizes what he has done. He resigns himself to death, knowing that he tore down all he sought to build, just because instead of trying to move forward, he wanted to redo the past. In his final moments he asks the DB if Morokei was defeated, if Hafnar and Atmah are free. The DB gets the option to either give him some closure or let him die without it.

Savos dies.

Just as the hall begins to fill with students and teachers, time freezes and Quaranir appears again, voicing his disappointment at the eye being misused, but also relief to see it put back into "sleep mode". In this state, it can be moved safely to Artaeum. Quaranir recovers the eye and time continues. The faculty are shocked by the events, there's chatter about the future of the college.

Eventually, Tolfdir speaks up and suggests a vote for the post of archmage, which the DB, having helped all teachers and apprentices as well as having ended the threat to the college, wins. Ancano approaches the DB, telling them in his usual "I'm-better-than-you" way that he's impressed the DB was able to save the college, and that he, at first, actually suspected they’d misuse the eye. As thalmor advisor to the college, he'll of course be at the new archmage's service, though if pressed with a speech check, it becomes apparent that Ancano isn't as sure about his position anymore and that he doesn't know how the order will react to the part he played in saving the college.

The end.

A common complaint is that Ancano is a villain without a motivation who only serves to hammer the point home that yes, the Thalmor are bad. 

So I thought: what if Ancano's and Savos' places were switched? 

That way you could have Ancano as a nuanced portrayal of a Thalmor helping the player to save his own hide and preventing a disaster that could've affected the Thalmor as well. Yes, the Thalmor actually want to unmake the world, but would a common agent know that too? That, frankly, seems like information for the higher ups only, especially since it's hard to come by even outside the games. Actually, not being forward with that would help them safe face with the Empire as well as the Bosmer and Khajiit. Also, why would Ancano even know that in the original game? Everything we know about him (being posted at the end of the world with nobody taking him seriously; him not appearing at the  Embassy, when someone like Ondolemar does) suggests that he may not be as high up the command chain as he thinks he is.

Anyway, I think it would be ironic if Ancano ended up stopping the very thing his order wants to accomplish.

As for Savos, I think this way he would play a greater role in the narrative and actually have some connection to the Eye in a way that his death by it makes sense. 

Savos' greatest flaw, in my opinion, is not apathy -that's the symptom- but a crippling fear of repeating his mistakes; the last time he was an active leader (excluding the prima guide here) 5 of his friends were killed because of him. 

Now that the Eye of Magnus is found, a design Savos would probably recognize from the staff, I think he would enter panic mode as it all threatens to come out. He, before all others, would know it's linked to the staff, so he'd know where to start his research and could come to conclusions about the Eye's metaphysical nature in a way that's more believable than "Idk I just shot lightning at it". It also adds a layer of tragedy to Savos' backstory; by trying to undo his greatest mistake, he ends up killing his most loyal follower, Mirabelle Ervine, thus repeating the cycle. 

It also solves the leadership problem in a less transparent way. I think it would also fit thematically with the other leaders. All of them have motivations, except Savos, his motivation is … well, what is it? Mercer wants to enrich himself while hiding his crimes, Astrid clings to her power, Kodlak wants to change his future, and now, Savos' motivation is changing his past.