#forces her to be a mimic y'know.

[moodycarcass]

Thinking about my plastic dog woman again and how much she would love the hardware store

[pinkslaystation]

[Part 3] If I meant something to you.

toxic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Here's Part 1 and Part 2 hehehe enjoy ;> Word Count: 5k trigger warning: drugging. viewer discretion is adviced.

Dating Simon reminded you of the British economy, constant fluctuations.

He would stay over at your flat, shower you with wet kisses, and the next day he'd walk right past you as if you didn't exist.

It felt like at times Simon did really love you. He listened you to, he brushed and plaited your hair post sex, but sometimes it's like his brain would switch and his behaviour would mimic that of a ghost.

Though it been nearly 3 months since he'd popped that question in the car, you often found yourself regretting your decision.

"I do like him...but I mean- it's just, he doesn't like me back you know? Sometimes I wake up and he's just staring at me like I've just told him I've killed his dog. I mean, he doesn't have a dog I don't think, but if he did, he'd prefer the dog over me, y'know.

I don't even know why I said yes that day. I mean, he's the first real guy that's actually shown interest in me. Maybe that's why I crave his attention so much. He makes me actually enjoy being with my family, if that's so hard to believ-"

"With all due disrespect, d'ya know you?" Your neighbour answers finally.

You stare back, blood rushing to your face, "I literally live next door to you. I smile at you before I leave for work every morning-"

"So, there's nothing wrong with your face?

"What? You know me- and I'm talking about Simon, he's next door to me too..."

"What?"

"You know skull face..."

"Who?"

"Tall buff dude, y'know."

"Huh?

"Riley-"

"Oh, the guy with the big dick."

You choke on your saliva, "What- How? Um..."

"Military dude yeah? The fit blonde? Yeah, he's big, if you get what I'm saying, virgin."

You furrow your eyebrows, words trailing off, "No I'm not...I'm sorry, how'd you know..."

"Yeah, he's fucked like everyone in this building, girl. Why d'ya think he doesn't come to the flat meetings? 'Cos then he'd be surrounded by all the people he's stuck his dick in, duh." She states like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Guy comes in, drinks a bit, and runs out."

"...I thought it was because he was nervous to see....me?" At this point, you don't know if you're telling your neighbour or asking her.

"Oh girl don't be delusional, you ain't no Beyonce. Anyway, been a while since I got that dick. Let 'im know next time you see 'im." She winks at you before, hobbling off with her walking stick.

"Yeah...sure...wait- Mrs Brenda, you're like 65... AND MARRIED-"

When the 3rd month anniversary mark finally reached, Simon decided to treat you to an expensive meal at a luxurious restaurant.

And by that I mean, 6 McNuggets at Maccies.

"They're cold, babe." He complains, slouching across you, one leg bent and propped on his seat.

Yes, Simon. Because you spent 15 minutes arguing with the worker for an extra packet of mayo. But you refrained yourself from saying that, in case you'd anger him further.

"So how's the task force?"

You've learnt very little about Simon, one part that stuck out to you was that the people he was closest to was his team in the military, naming his Captain John Price, who seemed to pop up in every conversation the two of you had.

"You got that 'lil mustache on yer face again."

"Excuse me?"

"Nah babe, it's cute. Reminds me of Captain's."

It hurt even more when he showed you a picture of John Price and you're face to face with a middle aged man with a full grown beard, who's being compared to the peach fuzz on your upper lip.

"Team's good." He sighs out of exhaustion. "Soap's engaged now, y'know."

You smile, mind suddenly racing to the thought of Simon proposing to you, but you shake it away, oddly cringing at the thought.

"'Old man's thinking of getting transferred to the States. Finally..."

The thought of Simon being jealous over his Captain was always a hidden theory for you. He'd mention it so frequently, it was as if he was keeping tabs on his superior, bringing it up at every moment at his signs of weakness. And when he'd compare Price to you, it was never in a positive light, rather one where it felt like he was looking down at Price, but through you.

You wondered if Simon had a superiority complex, and maybe that's why he'd chosen a little naive lamb like you, to project all of his insecurities onto you.

I mean, you're not gonna do anything about it are you? Nah, you're gonna take it like the good little girl you are.

I mean you are right now- literally.

His dick is cramped right in your pussy, his rounded tip rapidly kissing at your cervix. His chapped lips crash against yours, but you can't seem to ignore the faint taste of his Big Mac through his mouth.

"Can tell your cunt likes that, 'lil slut." He seethes out, through inconsistent breaths. You can barely hear him, through the sound of your sweaty bodies colliding and the ringing through your head.

You hum uncomfortably. It was gonna be a long night.

The following weekend, you find yourself spending eons getting dolled up for a get together at the base. You decorated your face with a bold smokey eye, paired with a lined red lip, only to be mocked by Simon.

"Red? We're going to base, not the circus."

So you take off the lipstick. And the eye makeup. In fact, even when you changed from a tight black pencil skirt to a matching sweatshirt and joggers combination, you still find yourself being berated by Simon.

"Getting kinda lazy with the clothes huh, love?" He asks, cocking his eyebrows towards you.

Is he for real?

Grunting in response, you look out the window, shoving your headphones in, grateful for the noise cancelling feature so you wouldn't have to sit through Simon's mouth breathing throughout the journey.

The meeting itself was as awkward as imagined. The moment the pair of you entered the room, Simon decided to detach his arm wrapped around your shoulder and immediately brisk walk to the nearest woman possible. If he was trying to fool his team to thinking he was single...boy was he good at it.

Being left out in an unfamiliar space was unfortunately not too foreign for you, and you quickly found solace by the water fountain, sipping on a plastic cup of lukewarm water.

"Bored, eh?"

You jump, having zoned out.

You turn to a man you've seen oh so many times on Simon's phone.

"Captain John Price?" You smile.

"The one and only, lass. My, a pair of sweatpants. Priorising comfort, are we?" He jokes, lightly.

"Were you expecting lingerie?"

"Pretty either way." He chuckles, and you eye the way his eyes squint as he smiles, and the smile lines painting his cheeks. You shouldn't be looking at your boyfriend's competition captain this way.

You're at peace with John. You find yourself opening up about yourself, something you now know you couldn't truly do around Simon. John cared about what you said, reacting to every joke you dropped here and there, unlike Simon, who plays connect the dots with your forehead blemishes as you rant passionately.

John chuckles, "Oh God. Work sounds intense."

You hum, admiring his laughter, which cuts off to the sound of a loud buzzing (buttplug?) coming from his back pocket. He excuses himself from the conversation, but you can't help but eavesdrop.

"John Price speaking. Yes. Uh huh-what? Another soldier? Same substance? Christ's sake...Doctor's got a name? Succiny- Succinylc- what? Okay, okay. I'm coming, gimme 20 minutes-what, now? I'm...busy" He turns to flash you a small smile, "Okay, fine. Dammit."

"You okay, seemed urgent?"

He dramatically sighs, "We both got work problems...There's been a...how do i say this...another one of our soldiers have been getting drugged?" It sounds more of a question than an answer, "We think it's some sort of new drug on the black market, and now that our enemy's have a hold of it, our soldiers...fuck, getting drugged left, right and centr- Sorry, um, unauthorized information..." He trails off, realising he's said too much.

You're ears perk up, "Drugs? What are the um, symptoms?" You can't help but be curious.

John looks around, as if to check if anyone was listening to the conversation, though most people are hammered on hardcore liquor and cigarettes. He lowers his voice, "Starts off with headaches, nausea, then there's seizures...worst case scenario is paralysis. Gotten 4 of our soldiers already, poor men, had to be medically dismissed...."

You hum, silently and unsure of what to reply with. If you were attempting to flirt with John, the mood had definitely dissipated.

"But hey, listen. You ever need a change of pace, a better job, you can call me." He grabs your hand, and messily writes his phone number with a biro, winking before he leaves.

Maybe you will call him.

As the sky becomes darker and the clock strikes past 9 P.M., you find yourself walking outside the building, searching for Simon.

"...annoying."

Huh? You peer over the corner to overhear the conversation. Was that Simon?

"..follows me around a sad 'lil shit."

Was he talking about you?

You catch a quick glance, confirming that it was indeed a drunk Simon, with who you believe was Soap.

"Her mum's hotter, too. All over me." Simon boasts, whipping out his phone, presumably to show them a picture of your mother, as it sparks a 'milf alert' comment from Soap.

"...nothing compared to her. She's like a doormat."

You look at Simon, and for a second, you swear he made deliberate eye contact with you.

"She's fuckin' spineless."

For a moment, time pauses.

...

Spineless.

You're spineless.

I mean, it may be true. But the truth doesn't always have to come out, no?

After doing so much for this man, you'e still...spineless?

Laying at the comfort of your bed, dragging a tipsy Simon out of the car and him rushing to his flat, you find yourself gazing down at the smudged ink on your palm. Maybe it's time to switch your job.

Who knows who you'll run into...

That night, you rest, dreaming about John Price.

You're in an abyss in your dreams, John's pale muscular arms wrap around your frame, with the faint scent of cigars and whisky wafting around your nose. You blink and you see the bottom of his groomed beard, and small smile resting on his tired face.

You blink once more. But this time, you don't see John Price. This time, you're staring into the sullen eyes of a skeleton-masked man, lifelessly staring straight at you with no emotion. You look down the body of Simon.

The lower half of his body was missing.

By the third blink, you jolt awake and look around, but this time you're on the floor wrapped in your quilt and covered in sweat. Very much alone.

What was this dream trying to tell you?

The jump from retail to cyber-operations was large and challenging. You went from serving customers to quite literally serving the country, from scanning items to defending the weapon's system. But 2 weeks into your new career and you feel like you've actually put your degree to some use.

Your family have been ringing you almost weekly, asking about your new position, although it's mainly your mother interrogating you about Simon.

And to say he was upset with your choice of working with the army, was an understatement, in his words, he felt like you were crowding him in all areas of his life. His home, his workplace, and now his mind.

You'd ask him to drop you off, considering he's going the same way, but he'd come up with unjustified excuses.

"Can't. Need to be there early."

"Nah, gonna distract me, love."

"Can't be seen with you." He mutters the last one, but you're not deaf and Simon can't exactly whisper very well. Sometimes you wonder why you haven't broken up with him.

So you've resorted to the next option.

Public transport. Calling John Price.

"You're not a burden, sweetheart. Who's been tellin' you that?"

You subordinate <3 But you can't say that, so you resort to casually laughing at his question. You can't help but think about the reoccurring dream you've been having, they always start the same.

You're in a abyss, and you're in the arms of John Price, you blink and suddenly face to face with the half-corpse of Simon. You're struggling to work out the deeper message of the visio-

"Love, you there? Went to lala-land or something?"

Think about John Price. Focus on him, why are you still bound to that jerk? You think.

"I'm good. So uh, how's the situation with you? And the um...drugs thing?" You look at him, your words surprising yourself, since when did you have an interest in drugs?

"Oh, uh. We're not allowed to disclose that sweetheart...besides, Simon didn't tell you? Kinda big thing here..."

Of course, Simon wouldn't tell me, why would he? You tell me, John.

You give him your best puppy dog eyes, eyebrows knitting together, "Oh..."

He runs his thick fingers through his brunette hair, adjusting himself in his seat, "Succinylcholine. There's a mixture, but that's the main component. Causes paralysis to the legs and spine...seems like that's what they wanted, to paralyse our soldiers, 7th victim this we..."

Paralysis huh. You turn to look at the passing trees outside the windows. Paralysis to the spine and legs...

By the time you reach work, you're at your computer by your desk, typing away at the lines of code on your programme, once again eavesdropping to the conversations in your vicinity.

"...it's the same location they keep getting deployed, why are they getting deployed there again?"

"Captain Price is going this time..."

"...2nd guy's in a coma now..."

The chatter dies down to the loud slam of the door: Your supervisor.

"People. Come on. Chop chop, we have deadlines to meet. Stop the chatter, fucks sake."

You get back to your screen, but you can't help but shake the unsettling feeling off your mind.

Ding!

11:26 A.M. Si:- Come outside on your break. Need to talk.

I guess you're finally breaking up.

"Getting deployed."

Simon's scarred hands caress yours, gently lifting your ring finger and slotting a shiny silver ring, with a skull stuck in the center. You think back to the times where you told Simon that you preferred gold jewelry over silver, since it complimented your skin tone better. To love is to be seen I guess.

A crowd of soldiers begin whistling at the scene, and Simon retracts his hands almost instantaneously.

"Wanted to give this to you for anniversary...but I ordered it a little late."

You hum, immediately twisting the ring around your ring. It's tight and cramped.

"How's work?" He asks, his eyes roaming around the people behind you, his gaze not falling on you once since the conversation had started.

"Oh it's goo-"

"Cool. So um, here's my key if you need something." He hands you his key, more like shoving it into your chest, before pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead and running off towards the crowd of soldiers that were now practicing drills.

Seems like you've gotten promoted from girlfriend to house-keeper.

By 8 P.M., you and a handful of your colleagues began to go home.

With your 4th cup of caffeine in your hand, you check Simon's text once more.

7:52 P.M. Si:- What time u finish Si:- 8? Si:- Too long to wait, going home

He couldn't wait 8 minutes?

As you trudge past the empty hallway, you're met face to face with the door of the lab, which you notice was half open.

You felt like a character in Alice in Wonderland. Trespassing is a crime, is it not?

A normal person would just inform a staff member and go home right? Definitely wouldn't enter the room. And definitely wouldn't head straight towards the counter that held various labelled test tubes.

Definitely wouldn't snatch a test tube labelled danger, and most definitely stuff it in their bag and run out the door, as if they haven't basically committed a crime.

But it's a good thing you wouldn't consider yourself a normal person.

The wind blows against your skin when you finally make it outside, and it feels like natures punishing you for breaking into the army's laboratory. With your bag clutched tightly against your chest, your mind begins racing - what if someone saw you? What about cameras? What if-

"There you are love. Thought I'd have to come 'n get you myself."

John leans against his range rover, wrapping his large military jacket around your shoulders, and you instantly lean into his towering frame.

"John...didn't you go home?"

He shakes his head. "Saw Simon speeding off the moment we finished, thought you needed a ride, especially at this time."

The wind blows against you again, and your smile falters, remembering the contents of your bag.

"Can we go home now? Please?"

A comforting silence accompanied the drive, with John's palm ghosting your thigh ever so slightly and you had to resist every urge in your body to just lock hands with him.

So you do.

His large hand encompassing yours completely. If his grin could widen anymore, they just did, and you swear you could see faint dimples decorating his cheeks.

But they fall just as quickly, jerking his hand back.

"Nice ring."

You're visibly confused, eyes dragging back to the tight skull band wrapped around your ring finger.

Fuck you, Simon.

When you exit John's car at the entrance of the block of flats, your eyes catch another deep brown pair of menacing eyes, standing at the balcony, hiding behind a black balaclava. You can't see the lower portion of the face, but you'd bet your life that there was a smirk hidden behind the cloth.

You grit your teeth, tossing the ring by the nearest bush as the car drives off. The grip around your bag tightens, and you remember the test tube.

If you're going to ruin my chances of love, I'll ruin your chances of life, Simon Riley.

A week later and the test tube lay aimlessly on your bedside time, alongside a small post card gifted yesterday from your truly. John Price, that is, not Simon.

Leaving soon - If I find something you like, I'll bring it for you :-D - J Price

Even the way he drew his little smiley faces warmed you.

On the other hand, Simon had shot you a single text, ignoring all the spelling mistakes.

Si:- bee home ina mont. by.

When he gets home, you're immediately breaking up with him, assigning yourself mental homework.

But for the meanwhile, you have to decide what to do with the test tube...for now you decide it's too risky to keep it at home, who knows if the wrong people get their hands on it.

So you opt to shoving into deep into your purse.

At work, as you walk back to your team's common room, you hear the commotion coming from the...laboratory?

"Doctor, how careless are you?"

"Sir...I-I-I didn't do anything! The lab was locked, I don't know who would have taken it-"

"And how are we sure you haven't stolen it? I mean for all we know, you might have the drug at home. How do we know you're a traitor and working for the other side. I should have you reported."

"Boss, you've known me for the longest! And why don't you stop shouting me and get these cameras fixed already-"

"Captain Price's gonna flip and fire his entire team when he comes back-"

"If he comes back that is-"

"Boy if you don't shut your mout-"

Scurrying to the common room, you shut the door abruptly. You don't why you stole the drug, but you do know you can't let anyone find out about what you did.

Not Simon.

Not John.

A month had nearly gone by, and a train of gifts has began coming, from small affirmation notes to bags of lego flower bouquets and teddy bears. All of course, accompanied by a small note with the signature smiley face :-D.

Considering the notes weren't hand written, you couldn't tell whether it was from Simon or John, though it was quite obvious. Even though you liked John, you couldn't help but feel some sort of sorrow towards Simon. I mean, who else does he have apart from you?

On a dark Friday evening while you and your team were getting ready to leave, the sound of shouting followed by stampede coursed through the hallway. Screams of terror broke from whom you made out to be doctors and nurses.

"What's happening?" You turn to your coworker.

"More people have gotten drugged, like 7 this time..."

You couldn't help but feel a wave of guilt washing over you, considering a sample of the weapon of the crime was quite literally concealed with your belongings.

"Oh -"

"Apparently, Captain Price and Liutentant Riley were involved."

That was enough to strike a nerve. You don't know which name hit you harder, but before your colleague could even stop you, you began sprinting down the hallway towards the hospital rooms.

By the time you reach though, it's already too late, and the doors have shut, the nurse informing you that surgeries have already begun undergoing. But for who, they didn't disclose.

It didn't matter who it was, you just had a reoccurring thought that if maybe you had left the sample alone, maybe a curve could have already been developed.

Oh God, this is your fault isn't it....?

A person's going to die in your hands, and you're not even a soldier.

With discomfort running through your nerves, you sit by the hospital rooms, your hands feeling heavy under the weight of your head, waiting to hear more from the nurses. But as they rush in and out of the room with urgency, your voice gradually drowns out by the monotonous beeping of the machines inside.

4 hours go by, and you can't tell if it from the lack of sleep or not, but the staff around you shoot you looks of pity as if you're in critical condition. Those hours in the waiting room felt like hell, and you couldn't help but notice the lack security in the building. No cameras again, huh?

"Nurse, is John Price in there?" You ask wearily, the strain in your voice was evident.

The nurse shakes her head, "It's Lieutenant Riley."

Your breath hitches, and unfortunately you can't help but a slight feeling of relief.

"Is he okay? Was he...drugged?"

The nurse clenches her jaw, "That information can't be disclos-"

"He's my boyfriend." You urge, standing up to meet the nurse eye to eye.

The palpable tension in the air was uncomfortable and pervasive, hanging over the room like a heavy fog, and the nurse eventually breaks, slowly opening the door to what looked like a corpse.

"No traces of the drugs were found in his body, but there's no way to really say in the early stages...He is displaying some symptoms however..." She reads off a clipboard.

You nod, though her words aren't really getting to your head, "Like...paralysis?" There's no movement from the bed, just the constant ringing from the machines.

The nurse pauses, "No. Headaches, and muscle pain, just the regular. Bullet shot in the shoulder, but that's been taken care off. We're still monitoring him. I'll be outside if you need anything." With that she leaves, shutting the door behind you. And you find yourself alone with Simon's corpse.

Simon's face looks like broken china, like fine art but damaged externally, yet still holding the essence of its beauty within. His features, usually composed and serene, now bore the cracks of strain and worry. His under eyes were now darker than ever, and you couldn't help but press your now tear soaked lips across his rough cheek, until you stopped.

His neck, though scarred, bore scattered red marks, which you know could be confused with a rash. But it wasn't.

They were hickies.

Fresh hickies.

It's been a month since you've last seen Simon, so you immediately rule out yourself, disregarding the fact that you haven't even been intimate with anyone in a while.

As you sit beside the bed, a surge of anger rises within you, fueled by the betrayal and disappointment coursing through your veins. You want nothing more than to confront Simon, to unleash a torrent of accusatory questions upon him, but you know it would be futile.

His chest rises and falls gently, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you.

The situations looks like that particular scene straight from your dreams. Dark room, alone with Simon, him laying there still.

His body is still intact, you think. Intact and littered with marks.

You try to recall what happens in the dreams after this, but you always wake up at the last second.

And you can't help but inch your hand towards your purse., the outline of the test tube screaming at you to finally use it.

Use it for the reason you had originally stolen it for.

Use me.

Drug him. It screams. It's not like he ever loved you? Francesca, remember her? The other women? Your own mother, your own flesh and blood? Think about the times he forgot your anniversary, your birthday, when he insulted you, in front of you, in front of others, hell, even behind your back! You're spineless remember.

I mean you'd be doing the world a favour, getting rid of this from this world, wouldn't you?

Wouldn't you.

John Price would be proud of you wouldn't he?

He finally be with you.

With a steady hand, you reached into your purse and retrieved the test tube, its contents glinting in the dim light of the hospital room. You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, before steeling yourself and uncapping the tube.

The acrid scent of the drug filled the air, its toxic fumes making you gag slightly. But you pushed past the discomfort, focusing all your attention on the task at hand. With precision, you extracted the entire liquid from the tube and carefully poured it into Simon's IV drip, mentally wincing at how effortlessly you had manipulated the situation.

You have to get rid of the drug somehow, and if it means using it against him, then so be it.

The next morning had come and you're awaken by the phone buzzing by your bedside table, the screen lighting up with John's name. You hesitate, your fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before you finally answer, steeling yourself for whatever news awaits you on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" Your voice comes out strained, betraying the anxiety churning within you.

"Hey angel, it's me," John's voice crackles through the phone, the urgency in his tone palpable. "You need to come to the hospital. It's Simon."

Without a word, you hang up the phone and hail a cab, the journey to the hospital passing in a blur of anxious thoughts and racing heartbeat. Did they find out you stole the drugs? No...how could they? The empty test tube is in your bin, at home, not at the hospital and there's no cameras at you recall...

Arriving at the hospital, you're met with a scene of controlled chaos. Doctors and nurses bustle about, their faces tense with worry. You navigate through the maze of corridors, the familiar scent of antiseptic hanging heavy in the air.

Finally, you reach Simon's bedside, and what you see makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. Simon manually lies propped up against the pillows, his face pale and drawn, his body racked with violent tremors as he retches into a basin. The sight is enough to make you physically ill, although it slowly dissipates, seeing the now purple marks on his necks darkening.

John appears beside you, and without a word, he takes your hand in his, his grip steady and reassuring, pressing a small kiss at the side of your head. In that fleeting moment, the world falls away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time.

"I'll be outside," he mumbles, leaving with you with Simon.

With a heavy heart, you take a seat beside him. Simon looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion. It takes all your strength to meet his gaze, the truth burning like acid on your tongue.

"Hey." He groans out. He can barely move, as his head painfully cranes to look at you, the effects of the drugs taking effect slowly.

"What happened." But it's more of a demand than a question.

Simon sniffs, "Traces of drugs..."

"No. I meant your neck."

He pauses, like he was trying to carefully choose his words, though he didn't have much of a escape now.

"Don't act like I see you and Price-"

"Don't bring him into this, Simon."

Don't lie to me anymore.

A tear rolls down his cheek, but you can't tell if it's crocodile tears or not.

"They-they... dismissed me."

You hum, a smirk gradually building up on your face.

"Why?"

Simon closes his eyes, "Back. My spine. Can't move it..."

You let out a slow, deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a heavy stone.

"I know." Your voice is barely above a whisper, but the words hang heavy in the air between you. "I drugged you."

Simon's eyes wince once again, studying your face silently.

"Excuse me?" He begins.

You stand up, placing your purse back on your shoulder.

"What- what do you mean? You he-heard me? Love. Listen to me-"

You walk towards the door.

"WAIT. Wait. What do you mean you knew? You said you knew. What. What did you do. Sweetheart. Come back. Let's talk. You love me don't you? I love you! Where's that ring I gave you?"

You laugh, twisting the door handle.

"Baby, you better not fuckin' leav- THEY'LL FIND OUT-"

"And who's going to believe a damaged, deluded man, Simon Riley? You were out on a mission, I'll pin the blame on the enemies."

Simon shakes in his bed, unable to control any part of his body now. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME- HOW FUCKIN' DARE YOU- After that life I gave you-"

"Life? You call that living?"

"I LOVED YOU WHEN NO ONE ELSE DID-" His voice is painfully loud now, you're wondering how no one's running to his room already.

"Love? You don't know one thing about love, you fucker."

"I should have never fucked you, you- YOU BITCH-" He shouts, his body flailing violently, globes of tears racing down his clenched jaw and red cheeks.

"Rot in hell Simon Riley, I guess we're both fucking spineless now."

And that's a wrap for this mini seriesss - thank all of you for sticking around ;D IM AWARE IT TOOK SO LONG- I KEPT WRITING IT AND FOR SOME REASON IT DIDN'T AUTOSAVE LIKE TWICE??? SO I HAD TO REWRITE IT- Quick Notes: Let's all be real. We wanted reader to get with ol' john boy. But let's also be for real, if Reader was an object, she'd be a doormat. Although I've implied John Price x You, the bitch really needs to focus on herself and sort her shit out right now 💀 in the near future they're together for sure. ALSO the reference of drugs is highly inaccurate but let's all switch our imaginations on <3 lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum, @kxtz3, @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12 , @restrictionsapply-blog , @lunamoonbby , @nigthmar3moon , @thychuvaluswife , @itsnourm , @bubusi11, @owkittie, @cheomain , @corvusmorte , @k4es , @mandythemint , @copiasratscheese , @yyiikes , @funkyyysho3s

[yanderes-galore]

Fandom: Invader Zim

Character: Tak

Pairing: Romantic

Type of Fic: Concept

(Optional) Other info I should know: Gender-neutral human reader

Sure! Hope you like it :) I rewatched her episode for this.

Yandere! Tak with Human! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Stalking, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Isolation, Secret recordings, Dehumanization, Mind control/Mind tricks, Implied murder, Forced "relationship."

Cunning, ruthless, and deeply vindictive... It's easy to see Tak as more serious than Zim.

She's much more advanced in her tech and one can assume she'd be capable as an invader.

If Zim didn't ruin it for her.

Her being with a human would be strange for her.

After all, she doesn't understand human affection or behavior.

She didn't think she cared, either.

Not until she met you, someone close with either Dib or Zim.

Originally her goal for interacting with you was information.

Her disguise is convincing compared to Zim's, mostly because hers was proper.

She doesn't understand humans but you seem to fascinate the Irken.

Not going to lie... Tak is infinitely more capable of securing her obsession than Zim.

She can easily stalk and remember your routines with MiMi.

MiMi is Tak's SIR Unit, but when disguised the bot just seems like a cat.

So while you think Tak's just a cat person and her cat seems really interested in you...

She's actually spying on you.

Of course, at first it's to know more info about Zim.

You're either close with the male Irken or his nemesis, Dib.

Which means you must have info.

Instead, she has a ton of footage of your routines and who you talk to through MiMi.

Along with a lot of footage that includes you petting MiMi, which wasn't what she was looking for at all.

Tak herself is your classmate in school.

For the sake of this concept of course, this is an AU where you're a senior in high school or you're in college.

She ends up following you to every class, keeping a cautious eye on you.

Tak's known to many as just, y'know, the goth girl.

Her human disguise has that appearance and many find her strange.

Some may even see her as appealing.

Tak is only interested in one human.

You.

She isn't even sure why.

Humans are just the disgusting life forms on this planet.

Why does she find this one interesting?

She shows to be distant around at times, other times she tries to engage in conversation.

Although her speech with you seems... off... a bit too eager.

She wouldn't harm you.

No, she doesn't think humans show affection through violence.

The only reason she's violent with Zim is because she hates him.

She probably knows how humans show affection.

Does she understand the purpose? Not entirely.

Doesn't matter much to her.

She tries to deny the idea of liking you.

However... When in her ship, she finds herself scrolling through the footage MiMi took of you.

She will admit... you're cute... for a human.

Due to Irken not having courting or romantic practices like humans, her views of you are twisted.

She probably thinks having a partner is like having a pet... or entertainment.

She's seen human courting before... the internet database she hacks into helps with that

But she struggles understanding the real meaning behind it, even if she imagines doing it with you.

It's quite literally alien to her.

That might not stop her from replicating it, though.

Tak may mimic human courting to try and be closer to you.

Just to satisfy her strange curiosity.

You'll see this when she gives you gifts she's heard you wanted.

Of course... She stole it with MiMi, but it's the thought that counts, right?

She even tries replicating physical touch, like hugs or a hand around the waist.

Feels weird but... She's trying.

In terms of kissing? She'd probably stay away from that for the most part.

Although, when she feels she's had enough of 'taking things slow'... She's just going to abduct you.

Similar to Zim, she plans to keep you in a cell with MiMi watching your every move.

She may even make you walk in there yourself as she's shown to have some sort of mind trick powers.

Said powers are actually how she gets you gifts, food, and others to not question your disappearance.

Why should they worry?

They no longer need to do that.

Such manipulation is how she gets her way without too much violence, which could draw attention.

People like Dib and Zim could notice.

But she'll probably find other ways to keep them out of her way.

Examples include an injury of some kind... or even death (Especially for Zim).

Tak plans everything, so others finding out about you will be easy for her to cover up for the most part.

You're scared enough when Tak, whom you thought was your friend, kidnapped you.

Yet you're even more scared when she reveals herself as her Irken form, an alien smaller than you yet still quite capable of harm.

She'd probably stay her Irken form around you in private, not caring much about you seeing her now.

Scared? Understandable.

But if she went through all this trouble of 'courting' and caging you... Then it must mean she cares, right?

You doubt that.

She'd probably do things like pet you or hold you close to him.

She may even praise you, dehumanizing you into a pet.

She sort of sees the appeal now.

She likes having control over you, a human.

Your species is lesser to her...

You should feel grateful she's 'pampering' you.

It irritates her when you sit in the corner and sob that wretched salty water.

Do you need more affection?

More pets? Hugs? That kiss thing humans do?

She doesn't particularly enjoy it... but it is a bit endearing to see how you react.

Tak blames you for catching her attention.

Yet... You'll prove useful.

Her first step is going along with her current plan.

She'll get rid of Zim... and Dib for that matter.

Then she'll claim the Earth as her own to impress The Tallest.

After that?

Well... After that you're coming home with her.

She thinks she's courted her human correctly.

After all, now you're hers!

You'll live in the cell she made for you and stockpile supplies...

Then you'll go to your new home with her...

Her beloved human pet... or is it a partner in your culture? She still doesn't quite understand.

[that1fangirrl]

Dating a Ballet Dancer...

Cw: some 18+,food mentions

A/N: This was honestly so adorable to me. I think I might write so more for it later on. If you have any ideas for this or other concepts, my inbox is always open. Enjoy!

He does not understand why ballerinas wear so many layers to practice. Especially because they are mostly thin and mesh garments, but with leg warmers

Yoga and stretch “dates”

Forcing her to eat more food so she can build up strength… or at least him sneaking a few snacks in her bag before she leaves for practice

Helping her stay in shape and healthy always

Something tells me he’d be curious to try a move… maybe stick to plié or tendu. Just like small footwork. Nothing extreme

He probably helps her with choreography. His enhanced senses pick up on slight changes so i definitely see him being like “oh that pirouette wasn’t as strong” or “your elbows aren’t tucked in right”

He doesn’t seem like a nervous person, but knowing with any sport you can get hurt has him on edge all the time. “What if you don’t land right and break an ankle?”

But he’s fairly confident in his babygirl… she's a professional after all

He's a huge stickler when it comes to her health. I know I said it before, but he's constantly watching what she eats, how much sleep and rest she gets. Cause he knows what the body needs to feel good and function better

Maybe it even motivates him to be better about his own health

It doesn’t help that they’re in college which always somehow means snacks over real food

If practice goes longer into the night, he’ll wait in the building or in the studio, so they can walk back to his or her dorm

Classical music is a must for them both. Just picture it. Him sitting on the bed studying with the music softly in the background while his adorable lover mimics the movements in her head along to the music. He would have the cutest little soft smile on his face(y'know the one)

When it’s tech/rehearsal week and he's not allowed to be around, it’s the worst. He’s only allowed to sit on one of the benches outside of the theater/auditorium. He can hear her jagged breathing, the nerves bounces off the walls, the constant frustration running through her veins. It makes him super antsy that he can’t barge in and console his sweet angel. 

But after each night of rehearsing, he makes sure Foggy isn’t at their dorm, so he can give her a well deserved night of comfort. Whether that be a nice massage, cuddling with an audiobook or some music, or everyone’s favorite… sex!!

Speaking of sex… he’s 100% her first. He’s so sweet and gentle. Constantly asking if she’s okay, if she wants to try something else, etc. It’s always a good time. Vanilla, but who cares? They're only in college.

Back to our charmer, he might’ve flirted with the dance instructor a little so he could be allowed into the dance studio after hours or during sessions. She’s an older lady, so of course she’s gonna love that little catholic boy who’s “too much”.

Now when the tickets for each show goes on sale, he is the first and i repeat THE FIRST to get a ticket. He’s up bright and early waiting for the doors to open so he can get one and be prepared for the night. 

During the day, he tries his best to keep her head up. Makes her stand in front of a mirror and say only positive things to herself. Even texts in the middle of his day, that she's gonna kill it. 

He even has Foggy tag along. Has him help pick out flowers and a cute card. Maybe even some cute jewelry, like a little dainty bracelet that has a ballet charm on it. Foggy doesn’t mind though, he’s their number 1 supporter. 

At the end of the show, he finds her backstage crying. Something about how she messed up on her turns and everyone noticed. To which he assures her with the biggest and tightest hug. “The crowd loved you Angel. They were absolutely breathless and amazed. If you did mess up, they didn’t even notice because your beauty hypnotized them too much.” Ending it with a billion kisses all over the face and on her forehead. 

She kept those flowers by the way. Dried them out and has them in a special area of their apartment. Probably in some cute little keepsake box. 

 After all these years, they’re still together. Graduated from school. Successful lawyer and Ballet Dancer of Hell’s Kitchen.

He still goes to all of her shows. Brings Foggy and Karen. Has a cute new bouquet of flowers each time. 

One night, he brings a ring. And after the show, they go for a small walk in the park nearby and he gets on one knee and proposes to her. The rest from there is history.

[pennycat83]

I've been meaning to ramble about the meaning and plot behind Pink Bitch Club

But I think I finally got the plot! I'm also using another person's comment as they added a perspective to this series I hadn't considered until I re-watched it.

Also y'know watch the series or else this is bullshit.

💔Minako's Room/Gyaru Talk 💔 Both more or less talks about How Minako and Gyaruko are besties. This is very important however as we see Minako eventually kill both Gyaruko and her dog by the end of Minako's Room. The motivation is more or less shown in Gyaru Talk. She's jealous of Gyaruko, we see them both get ready to hang out and watch as Minako mimics certain things Gyaruko does (even her dominate hand, which is supposedly her left, as she's seen struggling applying her makeup unlike Gyaruko). The actual talk they have during the make over is presumably the day Gyaruko died and features snippets of her the assumed moment she died, pleads about how good a friends they are.

💔Pink B**ch Club💔

This is the point where Minako finally snaps and starts imagining a perfect world where she didn't kill Gyaruko (evident with the moment before the chorus). However, there's another layer added to it in the form of Charlotte and VYT. Neither of them are real obviously but I'll get into why and what they are later.

The music video is peak upbeat cutsieness with hints here and there that something isn't right, up until the end where we get the reveal that Minako killed them all, again. We also get a montage of Minako mimicking their fashion styles once again.

This is kinda where a big character revelation comes in the form of the lyrics "The moment I meet you, in the fog that can't be lifted, I can change". Minako's obsessed with being anything but herself. She finds an escapism from her own situation (presumably depression or a psychopathic undertone) and identity in the form of mimicking others. It feels a bit cheap to say 'hence why she's always associated with a broken heart emoji unlike everyone else', but it does fit the idea that she's hollow without something to imitate.

She imitated Gyaruko until she killed her (potentially BECAUSE she just kept copying her until she got called out) and now she keeps doing it to the others.

This isn't where her character ends however.

🖤🧡Chi no Squi/GAL!🧡🖤 Chi no Squi is interesting as it depicts a completely disconnected plot from everyone. As turtleqqqq suggested, what if everyone (aside from Gyaruko) are characters in movies that Minako is so obsessed with she's decided to force herself into the role of a key character in that movie. A character her 'friends' admire and are possibly the love interests of. This is more evident in this video as it shows something akin to a movie where Charlotte gets betrayed and rebels from her religion worshipping the Devil instead, which by the end is shown to be Minako to her (probably missed the implied adultery of her mother leading to her eye getting shot out as well).

As someone else also proposed there's a good chance Charlotte did exist but Minako now sees her more as we do, I disagree though.

GAL is probably the hardest hitting example of this as we Gyaruko as the leader of an all girls Bozozoku. Which just shows how hard Minako is repressing what actually happened to her. She ends up being betrayed by one of members (who was in love with the leader of the gang they were fighting), and being left for dead until she kicks their asses and collapses in the rain, only for Minako to find her and mimmick the opening.

But we already know who Gyaruko is, she was Minako's best friend, who'd probably never even joined a gang before they met. This is just how Minako wants to see her as to not think about what she's done. This applies to all of her friends, in her eyes she's a saint to all of her friends and helps them however she can. Saving them at their lowest points, except for VYT.

💜OTOMEROID💜

This is where my own personal theory comes into play. I don't VYT is is based off any friends of Minako, I think she's the other side of Minako's personality. Her lyrics seem to parallel Minako's in terms of how obsessed she is with understanding love and how robotic she feels. Given how Minako seems to be doing all these actions apathetically it'd fit that some part of her would question why she's so obsessed with this feeling. What adds to it is that VYT IS Minako's maid, not only that but we only see her really reflect on these feelings when Minako's asleep. Meaning that deep down Minako probably knows what she's doing isn't right but can't stop herself at this point.

The 'Update' being the revelation of this that Minako pulls the plug on quickly with the final quip of "She was right". This also explains why her heart was ripped out in Pink Bitch Club. Basically every thing that happens to VYT Minako mentally did to herself.

💔Psychodelic 💔

So by this point Minako's broken herself to the point she's a selfish, obsessive person who wants to be anything but herself. But with Psychodelic we get a slight wrench. Given how the video depicts a lot of repeating imagery before alongside how it's all displayed on a projector, I think Minako might've trapped herself in a slight cycle of reminiscing on the non existent past she used to have with her friends. Or at least trying to remember it whilst her memories of Pink Bitch Club have fully tainted them.

Onigiri Dance

There isn't much to pick up on outside of the fact Minako's animated better than everyone else and she and Gyaru are the only ones in proper angel clothing which also further supports my idea that they're the only real people in the story.

had to update 'n fix my spelling mistakes 'cause I hate seeing misspellings in my work

[cerberus253]

Okay, hear me out, what if.. the eight demon sorcerers, ever visited brazil nowardays in their human disguises, and would actually end up interested or shocked at the culture?

Also, i can imagine po kong and bai tza would be surprised by how many man (not all cause.. y'know.) are respectful towards woman and also by how they react when a guy try to hit one or be aggressive. (i honestly think they would love the fact that when a neirghbohood has a thief around, the thief just gets beaten up and tossed to the ground by the ones who live there XD)

And oh boy, po kong would possibly love brazilian food, especially the brazilian hotdogs, since brazilians put as much things as possible in it! (ya can search it up if ya want to see it) and maybe not only her but also xiao fung would love the desserts they make!

Probabbly something that would also possibly surprise they is the holidays called "festa junina" and carnaval, like, Carnaval may be fine but too crowded, so i think they would prefer festa junina, which hsi wu would definitely love cause he would be allowed to buy those small bombs to more bigger ones made for pranks to just light it up and startle people with it for his own amusement.

And i can aswell imagine how some of they would react to realizing that some kids would actually know how to curse cause of their older siblings or possibly know how to flirt or make ccompliment to girls they like (which i can see hsi wu laughing at the background by some of the corny flirts and etc)

Or probabbly be surprised that in small towns, some kids are allowed to drive in those small italians motocycles, since is actually normal iin some small towns, and maybe get shocked by how old people behave and etc, and maybe by how some girls appearance are more developed despite their young age. which is somewhat shocking for some people.

But i think they would like to spend time on brazil, and aswell find it funny how some of the buildings brazilians do almost don't make sense or how they do their so called "gambiarras" !XD

(btw, how ya doing? also, take your time, drink water and rest. have a good day^^)

Alright so, I have to start with this: I have not been able to touch, think, nor research anything on this Ask for the past handful of weeks because of College work. In addition, my motivation for working on JCA stuff has dwindled a lot since that short period of time when I was bombarded with JCA asks. With that being said, do understand that my answers may not be up-to-snuff like my previous ones because I really do not want to spend all my little free time answering questions in a lengthy format (Ironic I say this at the beginning, before i even started typing. You will see why).

Now with that out of the way, to my Answer:

I tried to make them act In-Character without too much racial hostility and aggression towards humans, and the humans willingly including them. A very "What-If..." scenario.

Shendu

Shendu did not want to go, but since everyone was being forced to go, he had to as well. Although terrified of him, the people cheered when he showed off his fire abilities during the Burning Ceremonies. Of course he needed a larger space than the normal fires the people do, but it was worth it for them. Large streams of fire straight into the air, the sparks of flame crackling like small explosions, the sparkles of magic sprinkling throughout, the people really enjoyed the show. Shendu hated that he was being used and gawked at, but deep down he enjoyed the attention and praise.

People really wanted to decorate Shendu in bright, warm feathers to mimic the legendary Boiuna. Yeah, Shendu isn't a serpent, nor a black one, but he breathes fire and the Boiuna is a snake on fire, so close enough. The only problem is, the feathers aren't fire-proof, so Shendu would have to restrain his flames. He also didn't like that he was being used like a giant doll, but witnessing the outfit people made for him, he conceded. Although it's not his style, he agreed it looked great on him. Shendu saw himself as a godly fire dragon with flames as his crown, cape, bracers, anklets, and other regalia. If he ever When he rules the world, he may spare these people of destruction (not slavery though because Demons>>>>>>>Humans)

Po Kong

She came to Brazil to eat as much of their unique food as possible, like Feijoada, Moqueca, Quindim, Bolinho de Bacalhau ("little cod ball," which means "large cod balls" have now been invented), and Acaraje. Po Kong was not allowed to eat people there (unless they were ruining the fun), so she went for the salty, savory, and sweet foods the most. No food was thrown away at the end of the festivities!

Let's talk about Floats. Po Kong is the size of one, and yes a few of her siblings joked that she should be decorated like one and partake. The only problem is that, unlike unlike Floats, she is suuuuuper heavy and nothing is strong enough to lift her. Maybe she could be a visual attraction? Now, before anyone says "This is inappropriate and rude!" Understand this: Po Kong does not care, as long as it's in a respectable manner (being dressed as clown VS being dressed as a Geisha). If people want to take the time to beautify her to get people to look in awe, she's on board with it. Maybe it's good that she stays away from Floats, just in case any of them look too much like food. Maybe she'll request a Float actually be made out of food so she can eat it. The consuming of art in a whole knew light!

Xiao Fung

The one who forced everyone to go to Brazil. Unlike his siblings, Xiao Fung seems to be the most intrigued by humans. He still thinks demons are superior, but finds the variety of human cultures developed over their absence to be interesting. He somewhat sees most of South America as the Ultimate Culmination of Human Cultures due to many traditions being a homogeneous mixture of different cultures.

The Festival Floats, those were his favorite form the visit(s). While not as impressive as complex building architecture, he did enjoy the immense creativity and effort involved. His favorites were the ones with monsters and beasts as the centerpieces, liking the menacing over the divine. One time he saw a frog based float, and before they tore it down at the end of the festival, he demanded he take it off their hands.

Tchang Zu

Although not entirely willing to go, Tchang Zu gave it a chance after seeing/reading about their grand festivals. Although he's more of Chinese Imperialist kind of guy, the eye-catching and ornate visuals piqued his curiosity. Hopefully it's all more than just looks, with performances being just as impressive.

His favorite performances involved those that required feats of strength and agility while being in a respectable warrior's costume. Anyone who could do the Best to Impress him got a round of applause by Tchang Zu himself. Although not his preferred apparel, he did indulge in the warrior costume and had one made for himself, uniquely with a pair of large wings to mimic the Chinese Opera General Flags. After everyone left to go home, he did keep the costume as a memento and does take care of it.

Tso Lan

He didn't have any particular reason to go to Brazil, since he has no interest in human's and their existence, nor Earth's Life in general. Tso Lan only went because Xiao Fung thought it would convince him to not completely devastate the Earth's surface if he finally had enough of his siblings' bullshit and wiped them out.

Despite Tso Lan's attempts to avoid interacting with people, they did not let him. Every so often while he's floating around, minding his own business, he would catch large groups of kids and teens following him. Once he turns around to look at them, they'd dart into hiding. Annoyed and confused, he was informed why this was happening: They thought he vaguely looked like the Capelobo, a long faced, bipedal monster that sucked people's brains out. Apparently they were seeing who could go up and tap him before being caught. While not entirely on-board with the game, he did enjoy scaring the players, sometimes going up to those hiding to spook them, causing them to playfully scream and run away.

Dai Gui

Forced to go by his brother, he's really not having a good time because of all the colors. Dai Gui is more into Earthen tones, so all the other colors of the Rainbow he cringes at. All the colorful feathers and clothing reminded him too much of flowers, which he hates, so his grumpiness is quite unwelcoming to the locals.

However, some people, mostly brave younglings, would try to put body paint on him. Of course he'd be pissed by this, but once he saw the colors to his liking, he calmed down a bit and let them paint on him. He found it amusing that some kids would team up and try to paint certain colors more than their opposing group. He didn't understand why, until...

Dai Gui enjoyed watching the Bumba Meu Boi event, despite it not being as violent as he wanted it to be. The Black ox Caprichoso with the Blue Star VS the White ox Garantido with the Red Heart, he did not want to admit he grew a liking to their existence after the actors tested their bravery and went up to interact with him. They snorted, he snorted back. They waved their heads around, he would do the same. They're his pets now.

Hsi Wu

One of the few that willingly came along and is actually enjoying himself, Hsi Wu especially enjoyed the festivities, like the Rio Carnival, Boi-Bumba, and Oktoberfest.

I can't seem to find the bombs that you mention, but yeah, he would most definitely use those to scare the shit out of people and his siblings. The grumpy ones would try to get back at him (Tchang Zu would lightning strike him, Shendu would flame him, Bai Tza would soak him), but the uniquely stoic Tso Lan, he is determined to scare the life out of him. I think only Xiao Fung would find it entertaining.

Hsi Wu really like the costumes, especially those that are extravagant, colorful, and bird-like. The feathers, sequins, masks, and crowns catch his eyes, trying to get his hands on some lying around to take home and add to his collection of Stuff. I wouldn't be surprised that he'd wear some at the festival, body paint and all, just to capitalized on the fun.

Bai Tza

Bai Tza missed the days where her people would throw magnificent displays and performances all for her sake whenever she requested. Although Brazil doesn't throw these for her, she can at least be in the atmosphere of one, surrounded by her family. The only thing that ruins it is that Drago and his "friends" are around here somewhere.

Face paints of blues and whites were her favorites to put on, and seashells, sea stones, and crystal beads her favorite jewelry here. When hearing about Yemọja, the Queen of the Ocean, she wanted to pose as her, but the people wouldn't let her unless she acted like it. Obviously mad about it, the choice was being treated like a guest and be herself, or be treated like a goddess and be kind. She picked the latter, struggled to keep the benevolent mask, and her siblings never let her forget it. Never again.

Drago

Xiao Fung wanted to include his nephew, but nobody else, not even Drago himself, wanted to. To find the "Happy Medium," Xiao Fung let The Ice Crew come along to keep Drago company and out of his relatives' sight. Fun Fact: Xiao Fung did not have to threaten nor "convince" The Crew. They simply gave out a "Fuck YEAH" when told they were going to Brazil. Party Hard, ya crazy kids.

Hsi Wu would definitely pick on Drago with his mischief, pulling The Crew along with him to scare the shit out of him. Of course, Drago would get psychical with the three, but they would convince him to tag along to mess with the locals.

Although Drago has similar unpleasantness like his relatives', he isn't as intimidating, especially with The Ice Crew around. He would probably be convinced to show off martial arts, Chinese dances that require acrobatics, feats of strength, and fiery performances. Drago hated that he was being seen like a gawking toy, but deep down he enjoyed the attention, appreciation, and praise. While that's going on, the Crew are trying to get ladies (or dudes, depending on how you view them).

The Crew would willingly put on face-paint and such, Drago would be forced by them to wear it.

[spoilerqueen]

KUNG FU PANDA X WUXIA

K guys, have an idea here and i need some feedback if you know anything about wuxia, Xianxia or just a single danmei, y'know how Kung fu panda is actually based completely on not only Chinese culture but heavily inspired by the wuxia genre as well? You can even see the resemblance on some things, the qi being just like spiritual energy than CAN be stolen, like what happened with kai on KFP 3, the wuxi finger is basically a forced qi deviation, the power that you can cultivate by training, the way that oogway literally ascended to a heavenly realm as a god after years of cultivating spiritual energy, like we only needed Po to bleed from his mouth and we have literally everything for it to be an actual wuxia/xianxia story, so i was thinking, why not make a fan comic of the story of the movies as an actual wuxia/xianxia with human characters and a bit more blood and exaggeration????

You may be thinking "why tf would you want to do that with a kids movie" or even just "why?"

And my answers are: because i love Chinese fantasy and kung fu panda so i want to combine them further, and for the second question i would like to say that just because i want to...but that's not the case my fellow internet people... It is because the human versions of the furious five that i always come across on Pinterest i hate with a passion 🕴🏻

Not to say anything bad about the artists skills or to bash their designs at all, but i would love it if people weren't so forgetful about the fact the furious five are you know... Chinese I feel like people isn't taking advantage of that culture at all

And not only Chinese, we're talking about historical periods of old china were no one was allowed to cut their hair or show skin below the neck

Like why would po wear a tiny shirt? Why would po be bald? Why would monkey be black? (It kinda rubs me the wrong way how some people make specifically monkey the only dark skinned character i think it reads racist ngl 🤨) Why would tigress have a pixie cut? Why would viper show so much skin when she's the daughter of a respectable warrior and would basically be very close to being a princess? Like- things like that are completely fine, nothing wrong to the vision they have on the characters, but to the neurodivergent hyperfixating me, the fact that no one overanalizes anything about this kids movie about a panda eating dumplings is outrageous, it's not them, it's me 😔✊🏻

SO

I've spent a few months organizing ideas on how i believe a more wuxia/Xianxia design of the characters would look like

I've been trying to keep the design closer to the animals they supposedly are but it's kinda hard (◎_◎;)

For Po i keept his body shape and decided a bun or any kind of high hairstyle would be ideal for him since he was a cook and still cooks a lot, a ponytail or half up hairstyle would get on his way a lot. I decided to give him vitiligo to mimic the panda spots on his original design, crashing his weight, height and skin to add the unique factor that was present on the movie by him being the only panda on the valley, He's the only one I've actually drawn yet but it is still in development

For tigress or however tf you spell it, English isn't my first language. I decided to go for a sharp and serious look

To keep it simple, I'll be giving her a light brown shade of hair, i want to avoid giving them vibrant hair colors but still having some nods to their color pallets on the movies, giving her an almost reddish light brown hair and mostly red and orange robes with black accents and accessories as well keeping her original outfit with a few changes. I wanted to give her a ponytail since i don't feel like she'd put all of her hair up; and instead of claws, she will have a variety of knives at her disposal for battle

Next, for viper, my favorite gal

I wanted to make her look significantly more elegant and younger that the rest of the five since, like i said, she is from a prestigious family, i wanted to accentuate how pampered a girl from a good family could look, i also decided to keep her ribbon dance plot, the only reason to why i gave her arms, since i love the idea of her fighting with her legs but that ribbon dance so i decided to give her congenital hand differences as her disability, turning the "her family uses fangs to attack and she was born without them" to "her family uses pressure points to attack and she was born with mostly dysfunctional fingers", this way she would still be considered an exceptional warrior with ribbons that she can control with her wrists and arms. I also want to give her a really really dark forest green colored hair :D

M O N K E Y

For monkey i wanted to go for a little more adult vibe as well as for mantis; i wanted to give him some scruffiness since he started out as a prankster until oogway found him...yeah that family friendly story isn't going to work, let's face it, monkey was living in the streets stealing what he could for fun, my man was a criminal and homeless, he wasn't a good person and even po said so while telling his story to the kids, so, I gave him a style that would resemble someone who once was carefree and from a low social position that still doesn't care much about material things, but cares enough to not disappoint or dishonor his masters. I will be giving him a more yellow and light brown wardrobe to resemble his colors on the movie and as for attack, he'll use a long cane like he sometimes does in the canon

Now for crane (≧∇≦)/

Crane is very simple to imagine as a human so there's not much i can say about his design other than the fans, i decided to give him a pair of fans as weapons, using them to cut down enemies as if they were blades and also to give him the stability to fly, since i won't take away his ability to fly as it is something common on wuxia and or xianxia stories, i like to think he is the only one who trained this flying technique by watching real disciples on temples he'd clean, but still needs his fans for stability and to be able to carry and support the weight of multiple people hanging onto him

LASTLY ~mantis~

The mature vibes~ i wanted to keep him looking a bit more like a warrior since that was his job before training under shifu's roof, he had a reputation and prestige, so i thought he might look a bit more professional; I'll also give him green robes but i haven't decided if he'd use a weapon or not 🤔 I'm also keeping him a short king

So, what do you guys think? Should i go more bold with the designs? Have any feedback or opinions? Because I'd love to hear it! (≧∇≦)/

I'm prepared for this post to flop so bad omg

[dawnleaf37]

gucking obsessed with the main setting of your lore being giant alive meatstore. I love meat in places it doesnt belong and I really really love living settings I'm definitely not biased (kicks aside my own ocs). wondering a lot of things about how that works or where it comes from but can I at least ask where how do objects like prince and his crew end up in there?

objects end up there by DYING!!!!!!!!!

The store serves as an afterlife sourcing from other universes encompassed within dawnlore! Only some methods of death send you to the store, mostly ones that have to do with a high speed. Take ditti for example (or what he used to be). construction worker that fell off a skyscraper while building it. speed of fall and force of impact registered enough to send him to the store! Others include cadillac (whose parachute didn't open while skydiving) and our wonderous friend hydrangea (who was struck by a meteor). A few other fast things will do it too, like gun

If you want to know specifics regarding Prince and Co.:

Prince: Thrown off a mountain due to a rebel against the monarchy (he wasn't even the one doing anything wrong :[ )

Angel's Food Cake: Her case is quite different considering she is a Fusion Object (meaning what she is now was originally made of two people)! Scepta and Sweet Bun were the original parts. Scepta was murdered by an ex and Sweet Bun was hit by a car

Sweater: Shotgun'd after escaping a trapper (She's a mimic, y'know!)

Glass Flower: Unsurprisingly shattered! Put up a good fight but was ultimately powerfully launched against a wall by ... someone

Life with Gas Meter: This guy is two people as well! Although they didn't quite fuse properly... Gas Pump and Butterfly Bow were both killed when their planet collided with another due to a fault in spacetime

[puhpandas]

Y'know, since tomorrow HW 2 is coming out, I just wanna theorize on who we are going to play as.

There are 3 favorite theories of mine that could make sense (but are kinda controversial)

1. Cassie getting corrupted by the Mimic1 virus and becoming the new Vanny to get revenge on Gregory for allegedly betraying her (even though it could have been the mimic).

2. Cassie's dad (don't hate me) working as a Faz Technician and dying/going missing under suspicious circumstances (as Cassie uses past tense when talking about him therefore implying that he's dead/went missing) and revealing more lore about the mimic.

3. Gregory possibly getting trapped by the Mimic and becoming GGY, forced to do the mimics bidding and not remembering anything at all after getting freed.

(I mostly believe that Cassie's dad is who are going to be playing as in Help Wanted 2, but recently I've been thinking that maybe Cassie or Gregory are going to be the new protagonists)

im on that number 3 copium... 🙏 we'll see what happens tomorrow!! thanks for sharing!!

[originemesis]

@deathinfeathers xxx

"Uh-huh? When I fall the fuck to sleep, you mean~? But sure, take your sweet ass time." A condescending click of his teeth is the balm for the ego she's prodding. "You're doing great, sweetie." And a swath of sarcasm- don't forget the sarcasm.

Of course he recognizes that psychotic glint in her gaze; how often has he seen it surface when she's merrily stuffing the mangled bodies of dead critters to display around her room like collectible figurines?

Granted, he doesn't exactly want to envision that process with her knuckle deep, but it's not like she's very generous with giving his mind somewhere else to wander what with her not even taking off her shirt and of course some of the aforementioned figurines perched on the headboard like imp shaped gargoyles watching the show taking place on her mattress with glass eyes matching the muddied shade of his pupils the more he attempts to lose focus on the activity of her talons only to find it's arguably more tolerable than considering the last thoughts of her looming taxidermy victims.

"Y'know..." He keeps up the endurance of half-minded musings with a surprising show of poise, one arm moving to prop under his neck between nape and pillowcase to at least angle his squinted gaze away from the devotedly dead audience in favor of trailing along the meager curve of her chest and the loose strap of a black bandeau with the ever charming message of 'SPREAD'EM, SLUT' in white, bolded impact letters. "I'm sensing a lil hostility here. You're not all bent out of shape because your made in house slosh for the slip and slide has that day old tuna smell, riiiight?" If there were directions on how to not invoke the pressures of a well directed finger pounding, he clearly hadn't read them- but such was the nature of mankind. Maps were merely suggestions and instructions were part of the packaging - to be tossed in the bin with the rest of the plastic and cardboard.

"Ow- BABE! I'm just saying. Somebody's gonna walk in thinking there's s'mores up in here." And with that uncomfortable thought, he wriggled in protest as her talons pinned his hips from their mission to get a little fun of the exchange. Son of a slut- "...you locked the fucking door...right?" The hint of a whine in his restless agitation is entirely rooted in his need to rut against her hip, or at least that's what he's convinced himself of even with the sudden barrage of her fingertips bullying the coiled pressure made tighter by the tensing of his stomach.

"-that's the whole fucking point, though?!" Getting excited, anyways. Or at least turned on enough to thoughtlessly grind on anything remotely reasonable in arm's length - and at the over teased points she often drove him to on a regular basis, he'd heavily consider the company of a cactus if it meant getting off this 'work' sooner.

"...the hell I am." He grumbles at the disgusting degree of coddling in her pecky praises, though the biting edge of the remark did little to lessen the heady glow seeping out of the ethereal freckles between his eyes and staining the rest of his face with golden heat. With the slotted hope that watching her trying to mimic his clearly mastered art of mindless thrusting might get him started on a path to rubbing one out in her pillow later out of petty spite, he shifts with the sudden flinch realization that she wasn't fucking around when she cocked the crook of his leg onto her hip and leaned in to slide her tongue along the twitch of his lips. Though the depth she's afforded opens with the dropped guard of parted teeth once the force of her sliding in to her mounting mission makes it clear that she's going to take all the lessons he'd given her prior and use them to fuck him over.

The tiniest tremble of a bottom lip tucked under a canine tip that he used to pin the low groan of disappointment threatening to escape behind as she withdrew from her preparations. Though it's a short lived reprieve that doesn't give him the chance to ignore her suggestion to give the swell of discomfort lying forgotten on his gut a couple of strokes considering the sudden squeeze of her talons in their task of raking him over top her toy like the devil might adjust souls over a bed of hot coals. Black-painted nails wrenched into the pillow behind him, flexing uncertain as his gaze wandered and failed to find the progress of a manufactured hard on...that she didn't even have to do the work for! And for that size? The fucking nerve of it-

"Augh~ha-?! Fuckin'...really? Just the tip, huh?" He husked after the initial yelp and tightening of his leg around her waist. "Might as well fuck me like you mean it-"

[missamyrisa2]

since you posted about using long hair as a tickle tool... how about ticking a pair of sensitive girly buttons with your hair in order to get her warmed up and giggly? and once she's squirming and squealing, turning your tickly attention to her super ticklish princess parts?

Sooo~ to be specific my last hair post was more about the fluffy tall hair, and perhaps the spikey sassy haircuts. I mean, I may have spent a lot of time dreaming about a short spunky makeup artist with brightly colored spikes layered atop her head which look mean but have a softness to them and as she straps me into her chair and gives me a forced makeup session with endless teasing and edging she gets the idea to take me into a back room, strap me to a massage table and use her deadly natural weapon to taunt and tickle my underarms and belly~ y'know, just the usual daydreamy stuff~

But oooh this was about long hair right~ well you see, I have some ~experience~ with my natural tickle weapons too. I love to braid my hair anyway, it makes such a sassy accent to have the pigtails bouncing and floating over someone as they giggle themselves silly. And it's even better when I get to use them as tickle tools. There's something sooooo wickedly silly teasy about a smirking tickler holding their long braided pigtail with obvious intent, isn't there?

At least, that's what I'll ask you as you struggle on your tickle chair, arms bound over your head snugly, but loosely so you can cover your underarms slightly. Which is fine ~ I want you to feel some semblance of security, because while I may taunt those pitties a bit with wiggly fingers, you know I'm after the capital T's as I straddle over your lap. "Mmmmhmm~ oooh, what's that? It's my pigtail ~ so soft and fluffy. It's like a little paintbrush~ wanna see?" I test the tip of my blonde tail, brushing the fluffy stuff on the palm of my other hand. With a snicker and slight blush, I'm leaning in towards your exposed topless body~

"Now hold still ~ don't fidget ~ this miiiight tickle a little!" The fluffy spike grazes on your exposed button, nudging and caressing it with endless tiny probing touches. As you squirm and twist, my tool follows, fluttering over the circle and inwards to the tip, then back down. "Ooh look sweetheart, it's like a mob of tiny hikers climbing your mountain and rolling back down ~ oooh! look! they're going back for more! Wheeeeeee~" I slide the mass of soft tickly hair down the nipple to the outer rim and start circling around playfully before moving to the other side.

"Oooh and this girly button, thiiiis girly button right heree....uh-oh~ Uuuuuh-oh! What's gonna happen? Looks likeeee a UFO landing!" I make silly buzzing alien sounds, cooing at your reactions letting my braided tip hover around in wobbly patterns and almost landing but then fluttering up again. "Mmmh! Tricky landing, the ground is moving sir, what ever shall we doooo?" I mimic a conversation of tiny members of this tickly ship, and then make a siren sound~ "Woooop! Deployyy the grasper!" I snicker, making pinchy motions with my other hand, sliding it up your midsection to your chest. With a gasp and a grasp, I'm holding your girly button taut so my tickly soft pigtail can make a gentle landing right on the tip~

"Oooh uhh-oh I think there's golden giggles buried in this land~ oooh yes, ohhh no! It's gonna get youuu and it's gonna tickleee!" I flutter my natural brush all over the stiffening girly button, lovingly massaging the chest before moving to pick up the other one and begin merrily brushing both at once. "Ahhh tickle tickle tickle~ why of course I have to do this~ you're so sweet and cute, so we gotta tickle your girl buttons~ your girly buttons are the most ticklish part so we gotta tickle them~!"

When you're nice and mushy, that's when I'll flash my wicked beaming grin. You'll know my intent but I'll confirm it anyway ~ "ooh yes, definitely down there~" I scoot back off your lap and chuckle knowingly, fingers grasping to begin stripping away your bottoms. "You won't be needing these~!" I toss the discarded clothing aside and hook your undergarments with a single finger. "I'm taking these tooo~ ooh yes. Oh nooo you don't get any undies, not when Amy's in town~" I wiggle my finger back and forth on the lining before slowly tugging them away.

Leaning in, I start inspecting the royal area. "Mmmhm. Yesss. Cute, and sensitive too. Just the kind of girly princess parts I love to play with~" I blow a puff of air at your quivering regal zone teasingly, fluttering my nails on your inner thighs. "But first~" I smile and extend the leg restraints from under the chair. "Can't have you squirming now ~ it's for your own good~" I lift one leg up onto the padded rest and start strapping it in snug, testing the tautness by tickling playfully under your toes. Then it's the other leg, I can't help but snicker and coo and mimic your sounds as I get you buckled in, delighting at how wiggly and helpless and ticklish you look.

At last, I'm satisfied, thoroughly testing your legs with squeezes above the knees and massages on the thighs, and of course, rolling thumbs on your hips. "Soo let's play the numbers game. You tell me on the scale of 1-10 how much it tickles~" I smile and dangle my hair braid in front of you like a pendulum, letting you appreciate the daintiness of its volume as it drifts down towards the delightful spot between your legs~ "How does it feel?" I probe, gliding the soft soft tip under your abdomen, lower, back and forth on detours to find the hot spots. "From one to ten~" I repeat, gently letting all those tickly hairs glide to your girly button~

"Could you repeat that? Is your button ticklish? This girly girly button? Ooh, how does that feel? Come on, tell me the number. From one to ten~ coochie coooo ~ tell me your number or the tickles continue~" I snicker, following the struggle to endure this teasy sensation. "I know you like this~" My hair dances and twirls as a pack of tiny ballerinas, working all that hyper sensitivities into a struggling fuzzy madness.

"No? It's not enough for you~ how about~ another hair brushy brush~ yess, here we go precious, hold on tight ~" I retrieve my other hair braid, thoughtfully running my fingers down its rope-like surface, grasping at the tie and bringing it up your thigh as the other continues to stroke and torment that swollen royal girly button. "Let's see how your princess lips do~" I take my ultra soft tickle tool upward, working the inner thighs with slow loving tickles before arriving at the destination, testing and covering those lovely lips with brushy tickles.

"You can struggle all you like, it's not gonna stop ~ don't try to fight it~" I warn, humming happily while my twin soft tickle tools work their magic, following every struggle and pull to dance their tickly dance on all those lovely princess parts. "From one to ten..." I ask again, letting hairs dip between the lips and caressing up and down in the slit ~ then the other braid tip joins, and they make a repeating line upward, each hugging on the clitty softly and slowly like a lingering lover before jumping down to the bottom to start anew. And we keep the cascade of tickles going until I'm satisfied with your goopy giggly moans~

"Awww does my sweet princess wanna ticklegasm? Yeahh? You go right ahead. I'm gonna tickle you until you do and guess what? We're going all night my baby ~ I'm gonna tickle and ticklegasm you so gently over and over until you're nothing but a pile of fuzzy giggles. And then we'll snuggle and I'll keep my finger riiiight here on your button the whole time~~ wont' that be nice? You're such a little sweet sugardrop, taking all your tickles ~ you just love them huh? I know you dooo~ all the tickles for my precious giggly princess"~<3

[dragonmasterhiccup]

(I think this one's kinda long too, again 🥸)

Freya hesitated to respond, yet another feeling arising in her that was unfamiliar. His words indicated that he would now be leaving, and she should've been glad about that, but she found herself actually wanting to talk more to him. She shook it off, assuming it was because of her tiredness again, as well as the sudden opportunity she had to rant about everything she'd been keeping in for so long. "Uh, yeah, it's kind of weird how they mimic cats in a way.."

She tapped her arm, standing up too quickly as she nearly stumbled, managing to catch herself before it was too late. "You can.. you can come by tomorrow if you're not busy. Cause, uh, it's only Ayla that wants you over here anyways.. and I'm sure you gotta work with Gobber and everything.." Freya mentally scolded herself for beginning to ramble yet again, choosing to look up at Blaze instead.

She lightly kicked the small stick Hiccup had thrown on the ground, debating whether or not to voice her thoughts before she spoke, "Again, thank you. I still could've done all of that stuff you did for Ayla. But, thanks." Not knowing what to say, for once, she gently rocked back and forth on her feet, pressing her lips into a thin line as she slowly glanced back at him.

Why did he persist on knowing things she wouldn't have normally shared? Why was he treating her with the respect she really didn't deserve? Why didn't he just give up and leave her alone? What's his problem? Carefully thinking more, Freya restated the question in her head: 'What's my problem?'

Not realizing she was staring the whole time, and getting caught in the process, she frantically stepped closer to the door, fumbling over the right words, "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I was just, uh, thinking about something -- I got lost in thought, yeah."

"Get home already, Stoick's probably wondering where you are!" She gestured her hands at him for to leave, trying to recover from.. whatever it was that was making her behave differently. "Night!" She quickly stepped inside, shutting the door as she recovered her breath. She stood there for a moment, calming herself down.

Freya rubbed her forehead, questioning herself for the events that took place today. "I should be fine tomorrow.. I just need to.. sleep." She muttered, dragging her feet upstairs to her room, first checking on Ayla before throwing herself on her bed, shutting her eyes as she allowed herself to finally get some sleep in.

------------------

Getting up was a chore. If it weren't for Ayla's repetitive coughs, Freya would've most likely slept in. She forced herself out of bed, rubbing her eyes open as she groggily opened her little sister's door, feeling remorse for her as she rubbed her nose. After cleaning herself up, she almost immediately asked for the one person she tried not to think about.

"Ayla, y'know he's probably busy in the forge! He's in there nearly everyday! I mean, don't you remember being there with him?" Her sister pouted, threatening to cry - something Freya most certainly did not want. Groaning, she begrudgingly went out of her room, getting herself presentable as she muttered endless complaints to herself.

Fully ready, she whistled for Blaze, who had been playing with some leaves outside. Upon hearing her, he gleefully ran towards her, making sure to barely stop in front of her so she wouldn't fall. He leaned his head against her torso as she smiled, gently petting him as she yawned. "C'mon, buddy, we gotta go back to the forge.." Tapping on the crown of his head, she mounted the sand wraith, the last bits of drowsiness melting away as Blaze jumped in the air, choosing to glide over to their destination this time.

As soon as they landed, Blaze set out for Toothless, sniffing the air with a curious gaze, trying to find the Night Fury. Freya rolled her eyes at his actions, leisurely getting off her dragon, stretching her arms when her boots touched the ground. She tried to remain hidden, wanting another excuse to tell Ayla that she didn't find Hiccup anywhere, so she chose to remain standing outside of the forge behind Blaze, making herself appear as casual as she could without being noticed.

Nodding, he said, "Right. Only Ayla...I'll uh, I'll come by in the afternoon, then..."

He shrugged, waving a hand. "Again, I knew you could've, but it's probably better that you were here, in case she needed you."

Expecting her to respond, he waited, but she just...stared at him. She stared at him with an almost pensive expression, causing him to feel...well, uncomfortable.

"Uh...what, what is it? Did I say something wrong?"

That seemed to do it, snapping her out of... whatever it was.

He could only watch as she stumbled inside, only managing to say "Goodnight!" before she slammed the door.

Toothless joined him, and he and the dragon exchanged a look. "That was...weird. Come on, bud. Let's go home."

Stoick was indeed waiting up, asking Hiccup where he'd been the moment he returned home.

Hiccup muttered something about helping a friend, that he was tired, and going straight to bed, hurrying up the stairs before his father could ask any more questions.

As soon as his prosthetic was off, he fell asleep.

-----------------------

Hiccup was up at sunrise, he and Toothless sneaking out of the house for a morning flight before Stoick got up for the day.

His mind replayed the events of the past few days.

Freya had been... actually nice to Hiccup. He almost couldn't believe it.

But it happened.

And...it was nice.

By the time he got to the forge, Gobber was getting after Grump to light the fire.

The older Viking turned around, hearing Hiccup enter. "Oi! Ain't it yer day off? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just uh, I wanted to help out a little extra, since I left early yesterday." He started getting his tools, putting his leather apron on.

Gobber waved a hand. "Ahh, who cares? You always overwork yourself. Take the day, go be with the girl."

"Girl?!"

"Aye, the one you ran off with yesterday. The angry one."

"Oh...Freya."

"Aye. That's the one."

"You know, Gobber, I don't think she wants me around all that much..."

"That's a shame. I thought you two had something going there."

Hiccup nearly dropped his hammer. "Wh-what? No, no, there's uh, there's nothing going on..."

"Then why is she waiting outside, hm?" Gobber gestured to where Freya was outside, and said, "Take the apron off and put your tools away. It's your day off, I can manage things here just fine."

Hesitantly, he did as he was told, make his way outside.

"Hey, Freya. How's Ayla?"

[the-unnamed-haven]

So I've seen two different camps in regards to the dislike of Lanolin, with some overlap.

The first is that she's one of the writer/artists pet background characters forced into narrative relevance for no reason, the argument being that the comic should focus on characters like Sonic and Amy and such. Y'know, already established canon characters the fandom is familiar with. And if I saw even half as much hate on Whisper and Tangle for the same reason, I might understand, but everyone seems to love them despite this, at least from what I've seen, so I don't really understand.

The second is that she was kind of an asshole to Whisper during that time she and Silver were trying to prove Duo was Mimic, and since Whisper is a fan favorite (and was also correct), that means Lanolin bad. This is also stupid because a) Lan had no reason to believe anything Whisper was saying at the time, b) Mimic ended up fooling Whisper even by the time that issue was done (because this is what he does and he's real good at it), so it's hard to blame Lanolin for being tricked as well, and c) if Whisper had just talked to the team about this (which is all Lan was asking, really), we wouldn't be in this position to begin with, so really this is her fault when you think about it.

Hopefully that makes sense, I just woke up so I'm a bit groggy still.

can i ask why theres so much lanolin hate. like genuinely whats the reasoning. ive seen ppl say "she should be slapped" and i do not understand

[vickyvicarious]

I feel Phoenix Wright is among the characters who are like,

"If I didn't have constant anxiety, it'd be over for you."

He already seems impossible from the outside in canon when he's often a nervous wreck. Imagine if that anxiety wasn't there.

Take a look at these three sprites for a second. (It takes a little while, but I promise you'll see the relevance.) They're the confident/smiling forward facing for each person. And... there's some interesting similarities, yes? AJ-era Phoenix's sprite is pretty close to being a perfect mix of Godot and Mia's. His hands in his pockets, midway between Mia's crossed arms and Godot's hands on hips. They're all angling their bodies slightly to the side in the same direction. Mia's head is tilted the opposite way and forward a little; Godot's in line with his shoulders and back; Phoenix is in line with his shoulders but closer to Mia's angle. Heck, even color wise - it's definitely more of a stretch but Phoenix has on a dark jacket and necklace like Mia, but his hat is closer in color to Godot's shirt, and it is also noticeable/bright headwear like the mask.

The reason I bring up these sprites is because... well, in AJ we see Phoenix from the outside for the first time and he really does seem very inscrutable. Knowing him, he's definitely still feeling a lot of anxiety over things, but he doesn't show it and thus we the players don't see it, since he's no longer our POV. I think there are a couple factors at play there as well, because Phoenix certainly seems to have gotten better at hiding his flopsweat moments in that game. You could say there's a certain element of detachment, because despite all his machinations, in the end he isn't a lawyer for any part of that game and so ultimately, the responsibility is no longer his. Maybe that's a factor.

But AJ-era Phoenix (or 'Beanix') keeps coming to mind for me. I realized a few months ago that in that game, his relationship to Kristoph (and the plot itself as well as Apollo) strongly mimics Mia's with Dahlia. However, looking at these sprites got me thinking that he also mimics Godot.

AJ-era Phoenix also returns after a long absence from the legal world, which was forced upon him due to the actions of a poisoner who successfully tricked him (Godot actually got poisoned, Phoenix just disbarred). And when he next shows up in court, he is visibly very different (mask and hair vs. beanie/hoodie). He's also a lot more jaded, and takes an interest in a young new attorney closely linked to the poisoner responsible for his absence. He's secretive, often for what seems like no purpose at all, but has a plan that's only revealed in the final case - which itself was a combination of somewhat longterm planning/buildup, and adapting to unexpected situations right at the last minute. He takes risks and works outside the courtroom/sometimes the law to achieve his goal (the bloody ace isn't exactly the same as stabbing Misty Fey, but, y'know), and in general appears quite different from his past self. However, in the end his goals are very sympathetic, and much more than just simple 'revenge', however morally dubious some of his choices have been.

Obviously, Beanix is not one-to-one with Godot. But I can see a rough sketch of similarities there, and certainly in general attitude/vibe they're more similar than Phoenix and Mia seem to be at that point. Even some of the things Godot says seem like they could be a Beanix quote (this came to mind). I think there's at least enough to go on to say that AJ-era Phoenix is once again a mix of Mia and Godot.

I find this interesting because Phoenix looked up to Mia right from the beginning, and modeled so much of his behavior, strategies, and philosophies after her. And yet, she just as obviously learned a lot from Diego, back when she was the inexperienced new lawyer. The most notable being, of course, the quote passed down to Mia and then Phoenix: "A lawyer only cries when it's all over." (Another Godot quote that seems to apply to Beanix is this one.) And the thing is, Phoenix looks up to Mia so much, and she generally seems pretty knowledgeable and unflappable, but once we get inside her head/play a few cases as her we see she has a lot of nervousness hidden behind her facade, much like Phoenix. Of course, those cases were when she was a rookie attorney, but I think the point stands. Godot also reveals a heck of a lot of issues and self-recrimination later on, but for the most part he's really good at seeming very confident. It's another similarity between all of them.

And yet, Godot's problems are more personal. When it comes to the courtroom, he's actually pretty legitimately confident for the most part. At least, I think so. He loses every case we see him try, but it's not for a lack of ability so much as a lack of care. His strategies are good, if unorthodox for a prosecutor (because he's acting more like a defence attorney). He knows what he's doing in court, and although he definitely gets surprised/owned at times, for the most part he's pretty unflappable and fairly quick to recover. Basically, this meta by @theggning is great and I'm trying to restate it briefly, but go read the whole thing. I also think there's a great argument to be made for Mia being quite similar in court. Less cryptic shenanigans, but the same type of underlying confidence in her abilities/craft to back up her determination to protect her clients. Unfortunately, we've never seen her in a case outside of her rookie ones/being a ghost during brief points in Phoenix's trials, so I can't point to specifics as much.

ALL OF THIS TO SAY... as soon as I read your ask, I thought of Godot. I thought of Mia, too. I think that "a more confident Phoenix" would be a lot more similar to the both of them, than to anyone else. You could even say it's a natural extension of his arc, and that it's at least somewhat represented in AJ. In a funny way, you can also read that very same game's events as the reason why he doesn't seem as confident as you might expect him to be once he returns to law in Dual Destinies (his failure with the ace/getting disbarred leading to being somewhat unfamiliar in the courtroom after so long, the pressure of living up to his reputation, the heavy responsibility of protecting his clients again, etc. - you know, vs. the writers just wanting to go back to lawyer!Phoenix and not always thinking too much about his characterization during AJ and how that would develop when they did so). But certainly during AJ, especially from Apollo's outside perspective, I think we get a lot closer to the image of a supremely confident Phoenix Wright.

At least as far as I picture it! I don't think it would make too much difference in terms of him being unstoppable - since like you said, he pretty much already is. But there would be even fewer cracks for his opponents to poke at, and his mistakes wouldn't cut him down as much as they do in trilogy-era. He would inspire the same type of reactions as Godot did when he first appeared... a lot of people feeling intimidated and noticing just how well he seems to know his way around the courtroom, or people getting caught up in his pace and listening to him even sometimes outside their best interests. And, like Mia in the first game with Redd White, he'd scare villains enough to cause issues, probably. But at least he might (also like established lawyer Mia) actually be able to get his clients to pay him well, enough to buy fancy glass lamps if he wanted.

[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

[sarija]

@expectingtofly @starrynightdeancas

Here's my first ever written fanfic as a gift for @expectingtofly who never received her original gift from starrynightdeancas gift exchange. Enjoy 🙂

Words: 3657

Notes at the end of this post!

Home

“So I guess the question is,” Bobby asks, “What're ya gonna do now, Dean?”

Dean looks at baby, considering. He smiles back at Bobby and answers, “Well, I gotta go for a drive.”

 

 

After about ten miles, Dean pulls over. There's a lookout just a few steps from the road, and he follows the trail to the end, feeling overwhelmed by the info Bobby has given him. Cas is here. He helped Jack rebuilding Heaven. He remembers the last time he'd seen Cas. He would have given everything to see him again, to get him back, but all the efforts he and Sam had tried on Earth were useless. Now, there's a good chance he might see Cas again and he has no idea what to say to him.

At this moment, he feels the presence of someone beside him. Anxiously he turns around. For a moment, he hopes to see Cas, but instead, it's Jack and a warm feeling of relief washes over him. He doesn't know if he's ready just yet.

“Jack!” He exclaims, pulling Jack into a tight hug. “It's so good to see you, kid!”

Jack hugs him back, clapping him on the back before freeing himself. “Hey, Dean. It's good to see you too. I'm sorry I couldn't intervene...but I'm glad you are here.” Dean just shakes his head.

“You know, kid, Sam and I had an agreement of going down smashing, and this I did. I … I have no resentments over this.”

Jack offers him a short nod before saying, “Dean, I think there's someone who wants to see you. Are you ready?”

Dean then notices a figure standing way back, beside one of the bushes. He is ready. He has to be. He's been waiting so long to see him again, he can't even believe that he doubted he was ready in the first place. Dean swallows back a big lump in his throat. He walks a few steps. There he is. Just beside a big flowerbed, bees humming around busily, Dean sees him standing in the glow of the setting sun. He lets his eyes wander from the well-known boots upwards, over the hem of this trenchcoat he missed so damn much. The coat is glistening in the sunlight, it looks like it's giving off a light of itself. Over the blue tie, upwards, over the 5-o'clock beard, then those soft lips, further to these warm and blue eyes, deep like the ocean, light as a cloudless sky. And Cas is looking back at him, wondering, tilting his head just a little, the way he always did, back then when they were on Earth. Dean doesn't feel the single tear running down his cheek, he doesn't see Jack looking happily at him, he can only see Cas, standing there in the sun, looking like the most beautiful being he's ever seen in his whole life. Cas, his friend, his family, his angel and most importantly – the love of his life.

He steps forward slowly, afraid that this is just a dream, one of those damned dreams he's had over the weeks after Cas had been gone, had thrown himself into the Empty. In his dreams, Cas was there, waiting for him, but all of a sudden, he'd be gone, swallowed up by a big nothingness, or bursting out in flames and screaming in pain, or saying 'I love you, Dean' but retreating while Dean wanted to get to him, to hug him, to hold him, until his angel was gone and away.

But Cas is still there, smiling now, looking at Dean with his amazingly blue eyes. He lifts his hands and whispers “Dean” and Dean can't keep it any longer. He takes the last steps in a few fast strides and falls into Cas' arms, pulling him into a tight hug and crying silent tears onto his shoulder. Cas starts stroking his hair, softly, hushing and repeating all over “It's okay, Dean” until they both break apart. Dean doesn't want to let go of Cas, he holds his arms, looks at him over and over, but he can't find the words to describe how much this means to him. So he just stands there, breathing heavily, watching him, until he feels Cas' hand upon his cheeks, wiping away the tears on Dean's face. And all of a sudden, Dean knows there's no need to hold anything back anymore, there's no need to hide anything, because there's nothing here to threaten them. Nothing is going to take Cas away ever again.

Dean swallows, clears his throat.

“Cas... I …You ... How?” is all he manages.

Cas shakes his head. “I'll tell you later. We've got all the time in the world now.” He looks at Jack, who is still standing a little way behind them, smiling. “Now, who wants to have some dinner?”

--

They take the Impala to drive to Cas' place. While Dean is driving, he's absurdly aware of Cas sitting beside him in the passenger's  seat. He even feels the intensity of Cas' eyes upon him, until he finally blurts out, “Hey buddy, it's good to see you too but – could you please stop staring at me? I'm not a freak show, y'know?” At that, Jack snorts loudly in the back, clapping Dean on his shoulder. He doesn't say anything else, but Dean knows that he's enjoying this moment as much as he is. He sends a small smile to Jack and Cas, but Cas has turned his face away from him, looking out of the window instead, chin in his hand. For a moment, Dean worries if his words had hurt the angel. This would be the last thing he'd want to do, especially on the first day of meeting him again. He wonders if he should say something, anything, to make sure everything's fine. But what should he say? Tell him he didn't mean it? He never was a man of apologies, and Cas knows that. He just wanted him to look away, cause his staring was so freaking distracting. He wants to return his gaze, he wants to never stop looking into those amazing eyes, eyes that had seen so much, eyes that had looked so worried at times, Dean almost couldn't even bare it. He wants Cas to be happy, to smile, to forget the bad stuff he'd lived through. And now he'd said something that hurt him. Why was it so hard to just take it back? He never knew, cause right at this moment Jack spoke up.

“It's the light blue house over there, Dean. Just drive up to the front, there's a parking spot for you beside Cas' car.”

Dean drives as being told, parking beside a yellow-brown-ish '78 Lincoln Continental. He recognizes it instantly, it's the same car Cas had been using whenever he wanted to get something done on his own, and Cas had always seemed pretty fond of it. It brings back a lot of memories and Dean starts smiling involuntary.

They get out of Dean's car and step up the front porch. Cas takes the lead, opening the white door for them, welcoming both into his home. Dean risks a quick glance at him before entering. Cas doesn't seem to be hurt anymore, he looks pleased and happy. And Dean thinks he understands why.

Dean enters the hallway, looking around and taking in as many details as he can. There is a kitchen to his right, with wooden fronts and very clean. Right ahead there's an arc, decorated with roses in different colours – red, white, yellow, lilac and pale blue. They are rooted in two pink flower pots, one on either side of the arc. To his left are two wooden doors. He guesses that one would probably lead to the bathroom, the other one he's got no idea. They walk through the arc, entering a really big living room, bright and clear. The windows here let the sun warm up the room just enough to feel right, and the light-colored furniture reflects rays of sunshine without blinding them. 'It's perfect', Dean thinks to himself, wondering where Cas got those pictures of them and Sam in the bunker. One of the photos shows them with their hands on one another's shoulders, smiling into the camera. Dean can see his own forced smile, dark circles under wary looking eyes. He takes the photograph of it's shelf, looking at him, Cas and Sam. Sammy. He's looking back at him out of the picture, smiling and waving and looking contend and happy.

“Dean.”

He forces himself to put the photo back on the shelf and turns around to see Cas standing in the doorway.

“You know, he's not a freak show,” Cas mimics, but Dean can see he's worried.

“Thanks, Cas. I know. It's just … I hope he's alright, I hope he's living a good life down there, but -”

“You miss him.” Cas finishes. It's not a question, it's a statement.

“Yeah, man,” is all he can answer. He turns around to wipe at something in his eyes, then turns again and asks, “When will we be eating?”

“In a few minutes. We're waiting for … someone to arrive here, it won't be much longer now.”

Just as Cas finishes his sentence, they hear a soft knock on the door and someone entering the house.

“Who is this?” Dean asks, but Cas is already on his way to the kitchen and Dean just follows.

 

–

 

Dean still can't believe it. He just finished his second helping of T-Bone-Steak, mashed potatoes and fried rice, everything as delicious as he'd hoped for (he'd left out the vegetables). His stomach is full and he leans back really satisfied. This is amazing. He hadn't given a thought to the fact that now that he was in Heaven, he might meet his mom and dad again. Seeing all of them on this table in Cas' dining room – Mary and John, Cas, Jack and Bobby – laughing, eating, smiling, talking about things they did 'down there' and things to do 'up here', it was unbelievable. Dean watches all of them closely. They look so full of joy he can't help grinning like an idiot. His mom is laughing hard from a joke of John and Dean enjoys to see her relaxed and free of worries. His dad claps her on the back, then starts to stroke her gently. He too looks unstressed, there's no trace of the old, haunted John in his face anymore. Even Bobby, though still being his grumpy self, seems pleased.

“Alright, Dean, I think it's time for a little storytime.” Cas watches him intently as he explains, “I think you wanted to know how I could escape The Empty and start my new life here.”

 

--

 

All eyes are upon Cas now. Mary puts the plates away, coming back with two six-packs of beer. She hands everyone a beer and Cas starts talking.

“As most of you know, I went with The Empty willingly, keeping my side of the deal we had made way back. Several months ago, there was a problem at hand. The Empty wanted to keep Jack. I told her to take me instead of him and she agreed to that but wanted to be sure to crush me. So she told me that she wouldn't just swap - she'd come and get me as soon as I would be truly happy. And that she did. When we talked, Dean, I had made a choice”. At this, Cas sends him the slightest smile, which makes Dean want to forgive him in an instant. “Well, as you know, this choice led to me being taken by that bitch. For a while, I lay there in nothingness, black nothing all around me, and I hoped to fall asleep, which I knew was sure to happen to everyone The Empty had swallowed. But not me. She wouldn't let me sleep because I had been an inconvenience to her. She wouldn't visit me either. I lay there until I couldn't lie anymore, I sat there for hours and hours, and finally, I stood up. There was no way to give up this easy, The Empty couldn't be invincible, right?” They all nod, fascinated by his story. Jack even has his eyes closed. Another big gulp of beer, then Cas goes on. “So I wandered around, screaming and trying to punch the Nothingness. I called her a lot of stuff just to get her attention, but it was useless. In the end, I stumbled and fell on my knees and was none-the-wiser. But that was the moment I realized it. There was nothing to be done for me alone. But there was someone who had already conquered The Empty, who had woken me up last time, who would maybe be able to do something about my situation. And even though I didn't want to involve him, I saw no other choice. So I prayed. And I was answered.”

“But I prayed too, why did I never get an answer?” Dean sputters out. Instantly, he feels the heat of shame crawling up his neck, but he still locks eyes with Jack, who has finally opened them.

“I heard you, Dean. And I am very sorry. I knew this would disappoint you, but there was no way for me to interfere down there anymore. I couldn't answer, because I couldn't bear to tell you. I am sorry.” Dean swallows hard, then Jack continues, “Then I heard Castiel. And I realized that I wasn't about to interfere down there – but The Empty was not down there, and there were several changes to be made, changes that were overdue.

I gathered up all the strength I could master. I summoned those around me who were willing to help. Gabriel was the first to respond. It might not surprise you that he had taken advantage of everyone assuming him dead, submerging into the benefits of a random gambler's life outside the radar. Yet when I called out to ask the help of every angel available, he immediately came to my side to be of assistance.

Michael was second to answer my call. He asked a lot of questions, wondering if he could trust me. He was hardest to convince – but wanted The Empty gone as much as I did. So he stayed and helped.

Most of the other living angels came to stand with us, but we still weren't enough. So I started to wake up the deceased. This was rather dangerous, as I didn't want The Empty to know something was up too soon. But Cas here did a great job – when I had awoken an angel, he'd find him and explain the matter, trying to be as quiet as possible.  Once we had gathered quite a number of angels, they took their positions, waiting for my command. First step was to lure The Empty out of her hiding place. Hannah, Anna, Gadreel and Joshua did a great job with that! They annoyed her one after the other, to the point she wanted to throw them all out. Next step was to surround and distract her. So everyone did their best to get her attention, circling her in further. Then the tricky part started. While the inside angels surrounded her, kept her encircled and disturbed, enraging her further to keep her at that spot, we on the outside started to open up a crack, getting others out of there. Gabriel took an essential part here, building up an illusion to cover our crack. As soon as we had Jane and Raphael, I knew it was time to finish it, because the inside angels were taking hit after hit.

With the help of Michael, Gabriel, Raphael and Jane, I managed to take hold of The Empty. Like Chuck did with Amara, we cast her out, chaining her up in the same lonely dimension Amara had once been held in. Michael sacrificed his powers to bear the new Mark that still was needed to have her caged.”

Jack pauses for a moment, takes a sip from his beer and watches the others. Mary and John are holding hands on the table, switching short glances now and then. Bobby looks like he's fallen asleep already, beer still clutched in his hand. Castiel seems to be entranced by Jack's story, elbows on the table, chin resting on his folded hands. A small smile playes on his lips and Dean notices how beautiful Cas' face looks when being relaxed. He doesn't know if he's even allowed to think this way, but he can't help it. He tries to focus on the story again.

“So, you cast her out. I guess the angels on the inside got out – seeing as Cas is here. But what about the other creatures this thing had held for an eternity?”

“Yes, that.” Jack answered, nodding. “I assumed it would be no good to send them all with The Empty. Instead, Jane and me enlarged the Purgatory, sent every monstrous creature down there and asked Rowena to magnify the intensity of their 'door'. In return she'd get the demon souls sent to Hell, and she willingly agreed to that.”

“Great.” Dean states, “more demons for her, no big deal.”

“Dean,” Cas whispers, obviously annoyed by this interruption.

“I don't like the idea of giving her more power, alright? It's no good. Rowena will use this somehow to do something bad, you know her, Cas!”

“Yes, Dean, I do know her. That's why Jack is keeping an eye on things. I thought you'd be happy to know that we all are safe now. I thought you'd be happy to see … me.”

All eyes are on Dean now, which makes him shift in his seat, feeling pretty uncomfortable.

“Man, you know I'm happy about … this all. I'm just wondering what this means for those left on Earth.”

“You mean Sam.”

Dean nods, not sure if he's able to answer right now.

Jack jumps in. “Don't worry, Dean. He's safe. I am sure of it – I can see it. Please believe me that no harm will come upon him as long as I'm here.”

This really does reassure him and he takes a big swig of his beer. He nods, satisfied for now. Then another thought comes to him.

“What about the angels you saved from The Empty? What exactly happened to them?”

“Oh, that's easy. Every deceased angel got a second chance. I made sure their loyalties were with me, then I sent them to work. There's a lot to do up here, and most angels are glad to be able to help. Michael is an exception though. As I said, he's had to sacrifice his powers to bear the new Mark, so he's powerless now. He's in hiding ...” Jake grins, “but I think … he'll bee alright.

With The Empty being gone, there were new rules to administer. Every monstrous creature – minus the demons - that dies from now on will find himself in purgatory. Demons that die will find themselves in Hell, but powerless. Rowena told me she's got some 'lovely tasks' for them. And every angel that meets his end will come back up here, being powerless but having a place to call home.”

Home. Dean looks around, taking in this wonderful place that Cas can now call his home. He loves this idea, and he feels quiet content with knowing all this.

After this, they switch the topic to easier stuff. Their conversation is light now, mostly about stuff to do in Mary's and John's house, like fixing a little hole in their roof, or repainting their furniture. John even asks if Dean would help him restore a '64 Ford Falcon and Dean eagerly agrees to be there tomorrow. But after a while of talking about the ups and downs of this special car, Mary stifles a wide yawn and John laughs. “It's time I guess! Thank you for this wonderful dinner and a great evening guys. Guess we'll see each other next week?”

“Same time, same place,” Cas answers grinning. “See you tomorrow, Dean,” John says and pulls him into a tight hug. Mary ruffles through his hair before hugging him, then she too says good-bye. Jack wakes up Bobby, half-pulling him out of his chair and tells him that it's time to get home. Bobby grunts, gives Dean a nod, and walks out the front door without another word, probably too tired to speak. Last to say goodnight is Jack, and he pulls both Dean and Cas into a big hug. They clap his back, and Dean thinks he can hear Cas whisper 'I'm proud of you' into Jack's ear. They all say good-night, then Jack is gone too. Closing the door behind Jack, Cas turns around to Dean, watches him closely, a slight pink shade on his cheeks.

“There's a guest room down the hall if you want to...” he leaves his sentence unfinished, but Dean understands.

He looks Cas in the eyes, feeling his heart suddenly hammering against his chest. There were words he wanted to say, but he doesn't remember. He's surprised – all those years down there, he had to hold everything back, and he has no fucking idea how he did that. Cas' eyes are still watching him, asking silent questions. Throwing cautions in the wind, Dean finally closes the distance and pulls Cas into a gentle kiss, hands on his cheeks. After a moment of surprise, Cas kisses him back, his lips soft and warm, and lays his hands around Deans waist. Their kiss seems to take an eternity, Dean has no feeling of time anymore, he just feels Cas' lips on his, and he knows that this is his happy place. His peace. His... he allows himself to think the word – his home.

Notes:

This fic is a gift for @expectingtofly on tumblr as part of the starrynightdeancas gift exchange. It's my first-ever written fanfic and I'd love to know what you think about it! I had a lot of fun writing this, creating my own kind of fix-it fiction. Also, I tried to stay canonical – with one exception, because I will never accept that the trickster was truly finished off!

Please note that I’m not a native speaker and there might be some spelling and grammar mistakes. I’m sorry! But I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

Have fun reading and leave a comment if you like <3

Not yet posted on AO3, still waiting for my invitation. I’ll have you updated as soon as I can post it there!