#this case took soooo long

[realmsalot]

Turnabout Ablaze Screenshot Dump!!!

I'm going to try not to put any screenshots that I've posted already but that's not guaranteed

Ah yes, this is TOTALLY not an excuse to nerd out on Steel Samurai tapes! He's just VERY THROUGH GUYS!!!

and here you can hear Edgeworth's heart shattering in real time

SIBLINGS!!!!

Edgeworth, you don't have to say it that plainly...

Edgey did you cry during the play!? Did you have to bring out your handkerchief?!

Edgeworth hating on a girly with a successful acting career...

Oldbag please respect his boundaries. He may be touch-staved but he's also touch adverse to like almost everyone... (except maybe that man)

I'm going to be honest and say that I didn't really end up liking Lang that much for whatever reason but.... I agree with this... I love that he did this. Thank you for petting the dog for me Lang.

More praise for the dog! The highlight of the chapter!

Larry that is NOT the achievement that you think it is!

Thank you, Franziska for whipping him for this. Larry, NEVER say the words "sexy beam" again!!!

What are childhood friends for if not to call you a blight on humanity while bailing you out of trouble!

He was sooooooooo mad that Larry played the Steel Samurai. I bet he would have reacted better if it was a certain bluffing attorney...

HELP-- THE WAY I LAUGHED WHEN THIS HAPPENED!!!

I can't believe that Larry redefined a phrase with the word fool for Franziska...

Are we sure these two are grown-ass men??? Because they're acting like children right now!!!

I love them <3

[artilite]

oranges 🍊 (link click)

thought this poem by Jean Little fit these two a lot :))) slightly inspired by the lmk version by @ziaofender!

[ID: A Link Click comic which is done in shades of orange, with blue accents for Lu Guang's eyes. The narration, taken from "Oranges" by Jean Little and altered to fit, begins on Lu Guang peeling an orange with a neutral expression and saying, "I peel oranges neatly. The sections come apart cleanly, perfectly in my hands."

We see Cheng Xiaoshi struggling to peel an orange. Juice spurts out, and he yelps. "When Cheng Xiaoshi peels an orange, he tears holes in it. Juice squirts in all directions."

Cheng Xiaoshi tearfully hands the orange to an exasperated Lu Guang. His dialogue mixes with the narration: "'Lu Guang,' he says, 'I don’t know how you do it!'" Cheng Xiaoshi happily eats oranges. "Cheng Xiaoshi is my best friend." Lu Guang looks at him with a fond, sweet smile, also preparing to eat a slice. "I hope he never learns how to peel oranges." End ID]

[crystalflygeo]

Last of her kind Emperor!Alpha!Zhongli + Slave!Omega!Dragoness!Reader-

cw/tags: mentions of slavery and past sexual abuse on fem!reader, A/B/O dynamics, mating bites, fingering, scenting, pet names, zhongli has a knot and alpha fangs and is not afraid to use them lmao, some nip and clit stimulation ig?? emotional roller coaster ngl.

notes: So remember a loooong time ago when I held a poll and one of the options was "dragon" and it WON?? well actually it was this, (dragon READER heh) it just got WAY out of control. 5.6k words and now I wanna make it into a whole series //head in hands// anyway ye have this weird lil funky AU I poured my sweat blood and tears into (also my heart and soul) idk why I am just so attached I love it so much plsss I have ideas fot other scenes with them already aaaaaaaaa &lt;3

Partially inspired by some of @silentmoths' fics holy shIT I LOVE DRAGON READER AND I LOVE OMEGAVERSE NOD IF YOU AGREE!!

Last but not least if y'all wanna be part of my pinglist uhh I'm making one now so :3c

Part 2 ->

Strange yellow leaves fall around you all over the courtyard…

“Fix your clothes, you have to look appealing… well, as appealing as a creature like you can be.” The voice of your Master calls out harshly, pulling and tugging at details in your outfit. It was a flimsy and silky thing, mostly see-through, rather elegant, but very revealing.

You’re used to it.

“And stop looking so miserable! You better smile and please this Alpha. He’s not just anyone, you know?”

You nod meekly, trying to hide the slight trembling on your body. This will be just another bonding attempt. Nothing else.

It will fail. Just like all the others before.

Silver chains clink and tug the collar at your neck, it shakes you back to the present as you stumble forward.

Master guides you through a maze of corridors, with sleek surfaces of dark wood, decorative lanterns and paper screens. They’re strange, covered in even stranger symbols that look nothing like the ones back in the desert. Your bare feet, used to rough hot sand, now walk along polished wood with your draconic tail dragging behind. Everything looks so lavish…

You’ve been brought all the way to Li- Liu-… Li-yue? A foreign country, to meet a potential client. Well, a client to your Master. You are just the merchandise: a dragonblood Omega. Rare, unique even, “exotic”.

But defective.

Your fists clench in nervousness. How rough will this Alpha be with you? You dread to find the answer. Alphas were cruel, ever since you remember you’ve been taught to please, be gentle, obedient and look pretty, but they were never any of those things. Alphas just took their pleasure and used your body as they wanted, usually until you were crying and screaming, begging for mercy. You just hope this Alpha would give you some pity and be quick… or give you time to rest in between attempts.

Though you had learned since long that your wishes don’t tend to come true.

What a disappointment. After I spent so much money and resources on you.

Such a waste of time, what use is there in an Omega that can’t bond?

Why do I even bother with you? You’re just good for the reproduction camp. Maybe that way you can produce another dragonblood.

This is your last chance, mutt. If you fail again, I won’t be bothering with you anymore.

You feel anxiety creeping on your chest, heart jumping to your throat as the dark thoughts invade your mind. Last chance… your last chance at bonding. At proving you’re not useless and stupid. At serving your purpose as Omega. What was happening to you was fair. You deserve to be punished and you should be grateful you have one last chance after all your failures.

You just want to… to…

Tears prickle at your eyes and you breathe in deeply, trying to contain your distress and hugging your own tail, rubbing your face on the fluffy tip.

Whatever happens today, your fate is going to be sealed.

The nest room is nice.

Like the rest of the place, it is rather elegant, dimly lit with neutral colors and wooden walls, filled with pillows and blankets that had a very subtle flowery aroma to them. Small cabinets to one side with some decorative objects on top and a full-length mirror on the other side. So much different from the barren cold stone walls and tents from the desert camps.

“Hm, pretty fancy.” Master says taking off your collar, your soft unblemished neck now on display, free from any claim. “Now…” He pulls at your hair and you wince, whining and lowering your ears on a submissive display. He wouldn’t hurt you right? You have to look pretty. “The emperor will be here shortly. Make sure to do anything and everything he wants. And you better smile, I told you.”

“E-Emperor?” You pale, eyes widening.

He scoffs and pushes you back, you stumble back into the mess of pillows. “That’s right. I don’t know why but he was very adamant to see you it seems. Perhaps he just wants the prestige of owning the last known dragonblood, hm? Another novelty for his collection, I’m sure. You should consider yourself really lucky. So…” He flashes his Alpha fangs at you with a growl and you whimper again, cowering. “I would suggest you do your best and don’t disappoint this time, he’ll pay a pretty penny for you.”

And with that he leaves, muttering something and almost slamming the strange sliding door.

And so, you’re alone.

Immediately your brain goes into overdrive. An emperor? You had been presented to various Alphas of high status before, wealthy merchants and high-ranking tribe members, but this… this was probably a whole other level.

An emperor had to have an empress, right? Someone of noble birth and high status such as himself, not a lowly sand lizard like you, with weird ears, scales, horns and a tail. Why would he want to see an Omega like you? Perhaps Master was right, he intended to keep you as a trophy in his collection, another pretty thing.

It was humiliating.

But anything was better than being doomed to the reproduction camp…

Maybe the emperor had a harem? You’ve heard of them before, some Alphas liked to boast having many Omegas bound to them. Living in this luxury, not having to worry about much anything except looking pretty and pleasing him once a while. Hell, maybe he wouldn’t even pay attention to you, you’d be just a glorified pet.

You could… do that.

Without noticing, your tail starts swaying after you, this could be a chance. Your chance. You just had to make him like you. Forget the bond. Don’t think about it. All you have to do is please him.

You start frantically arranging the sheets and pillows around, building the comfiest nest you ever had with all the extra material, scenting it with excited happy pheromones. You could do it, this was your chance.

You won’t fail this time. You’ll be pretty, obedient, submissive, the ideal Omega. You’ll let him use you to his heart’s content, sure you may be a little sore but it’ll be worth it if he chooses you. He won’t even care about the bond.

…Right?

You jolt when you hear the door slide slightly open again, your heart leaps to your throat as someone walks in.

Oh.

Is… he the emperor? … He’s handsome.

To be fully honest, you expected some fat pompous middle-aged man not this… perfect specimen of an Alpha.

Your tail sways a little with curiosity.

He looks only slightly older than you, tall, wearing elegant robes in brown and golden hues. His eyes are like a sunset: golden, warm, almost glowing. A red liner accentuating them. Long chocolate hair faded to amber at the tips. His scent was earthy and pleasant, subtle unlike most Alpha musk. Almost comforting and… familiar?

He seems to stare back at you with the same surprise, frozen for a moment, eyes slightly wide, he says something you can’t quite hear and it shakes you out of the spell. You suddenly feel a little self-conscious, curling your tail around you, ears down and resisting the urge to brush (hide) the scales at the corners of your eyes.

It occurs to you that you’ve been just staring like an idiot, you don’t know very well how to address him, nor know his foreign tongue. So, you simply lower your head in respect. “My Lord…”

You suddenly feel nervous. This is it.

You turn around, following the motions ingrained in your brain. Body splayed on the nest, arms tucked in, head down. Submissive, obedient. Your hands are shaking, you feel dizzy, heart thrumming in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

You lift your butt just slightly, tail curling elegantly over your back, out of the way to expose the flimsy fabric covering your privates, properly presenting to the Alpha. You focus on trying to control your pheromones, letting out just whiffs of a needy sensual scent, worried of mixing in your anxiety and fear and displeasing the emperor.

You had to be pretty, enticing, compliant, and he would, h-he would…

A rather awkward cough has you tense. “There is… no need for that.”

You blink for a moment, taken aback at the rich deep baritone of his voice, so hypnotizing you almost don’t register his words. He speaks common tongue, but still, what does he mean? Isn’t this just… standard protocol for bonding? Isn’t he going to mount you?

You dare peek over your shoulder and see him sitting elegantly over his knees at the floor. He’s outside of the nest range.

He’s also slightly pink at the cheeks and pointedly avoiding looking at you.

Is this a trap? Is he testing you to see if you’ll misbehave? Your hands clench, nails digging at your palms, your breathing and heart increasing pace.

“I just want to talk, I promise.” He tries.

You hold the position.

He sighs, and then-

“Omega, relax.”

You almost squeak at the Alpha command. His voice, his will, seeps into your skin, your nerves, your very bones. You feel your muscles loosen up, tension leaving your body like a bowstring snapping and you lie on the sheets sideways.

Right right right, you’re tense, you have to be soft and pliant-

You look over at him and he’s… heading over to the little cabinets. He picks up a kettle of some kind and little cups that sit on the top, moving around calmly and elegantly as he seems to prepare something. Your head tilts and you gingerly sit up straight. Tail and ears down, curled up not unlike a wounded animal.

“Do you speak the common tongue?”

“Y-Yes!” You nod. “A little…”

“Good.”

The emperor seems… pleasant, he is calm and unguarded, so different from the cold intimidating Alphas you’ve met who like to show off, who immediately order you around. He even used an Alpha command on you but it felt… grounding. There is something equally eerie and entrancing about him and you feel yourself as much drawn to him as terrified of his imposing aura, and you couldn’t explain why. It’s a bit unsettling but also comforting at the same time.

He pours two cups and turns to you. You stiffen and he offers you one.

“Qixing tea is one of the most refined Liyue teas. It tends to be very bitter but this blend has a more pleasant taste, a little floral even. It is also said to help relax one’s mind.”

You carefully take the cup, not wanting to insult such gracious offer, though you’re utterly confused, shouldn’t you be the one serving him?

The cup is warm.

You stare at the golden liquid, small black dots sit at the bottom. This has no alcohol… right? It can’t be worse than snake wine at least.

You carefully take a sip, trying to imitate how the emperor is holding his.

It is… nice, a strong sharp taste but not bad, and very aromatic.

He’s looking at you expectantly and your tail and ears twitch. “I-It’s very good. Thank you, my Lord.”

He smiles and your heart skips a beat. “I am glad. Some say Qixing tea is for older people, but it’s frankly one of my favorites.” He stares at his cup with a somewhat nostalgic gaze, as if it brings him fond memories. “Ah, you can address me as Morax.”

You nod quietly and take another sip. Past the tea’s powerful flowery scent, you can now sense his Alpha pheromones, with him being so close and the air less tense. They’re strong but not overwhelmingly so, sharp and tantalizing, a refined foreign scent you can almost taste in the back of your throat. It stirs something in you, something warm and alluring.

“Do you know where were you born? Who are your parents?”

The question takes you by surprise for a moment as you shake out of your thoughts. Ah, he must be inquiring about your dragonblood. “I-I’m…. I’m not sure, my Lo- um… L-Lord Morax. As far as I know my mother worked at a-a heat house… no one knew who my father was and she passed away when I was very young.”

“I see… so you have no idea where you got your dragon traits from.” It was a sentence rather than a question and you shake your head meekly, taking another sip from the tea, ears lowering back.

“Apparently it could be due to recessive genes.” You once again repeat the same words you’ve heard all your life. You hate bringing attention to your dragon features, people either treat you like a rare exotic creature or a dangerous one. You didn’t know which was worse.

“Hmmm…” Lord Morax seems pensive for a moment, also drinking some of the tea. “Have you been with your caretaker for long?”

You look down. “Master has been in charge of me ever since I… p-presented as an Omega.”

“Does he treat you well?”

Your eyes widen, the question catching you completely by surprise. T-Treat you well? You are… treated like any other slave omega, if only being singled out by your draconic traits. He feeds you, he gives you clothing and education, he arranges the best matches he can for bonding, he even got you here in the first place. You owe him everything, you’re nothing without him.

So then… Why do you find yourself thinking back on all the harsh words, all the punishments, all the screaming and crying, all the… t-touches…

You gulp. “M-Master ensures I have the best living conditions and opportunities I can.” Is what you settle for.

He hums.

There is silence for a moment and lord Morax settles down his cup.

“I don’t think you’re aware of how special you are.”

Just when you thought he couldn’t surprise you anymore, he utters those words and makes your heart speed up.

Is this anxiety? Fear?

“Judging from what your Master has told me, you’re treated like quite the novelty, an exotic half-blood not unlike the Valuka Shuna or Kätzlein. Here in Liyue however those with traits like yours are called Xiānshòu.” The foreign word rolls off his tongue. His golden eyes fix on you and you freeze. “Also known as illuminated beasts. With immense power and longevity, even the half-bloods. They’re well respected and looked up to, why, some are even revered as deities...”

You? Such a fantastic creature? That can’t be…

“Seems to me like things are different in the deserts of Sumeru, however.” His eyes narrow and for the first time you notice his diamond pupils. They look like a snake’s. The same eerie glint he had a few minutes ago is back darkening the bright golden eyes. Yet, for some strange reason you don’t feel scared this time.

A shiver travels down your spine as you feel your instincts purr in delight. Protective… for some reason lord Morax is being protective of you. You don’t know why or how but you can feel it and it made your inner Omega preen inside. An Alpha wanted to protect you, care for you.

“Such a shame.” He adds, sounding almost disappointed but there is something darker underneath. Word simmering with… frustration? “You are such a lovely dragoness, worthy of every praise and prayer they’d sign in your name here.”

You’re very glad your cup rests at your lap, blushing furiously with trembling hands.

For the next few moments, he continued to ask some more questions. What you like or dislike, what you do in your free time, even something as innocuous as your favorite color. Time seemed to stretch into infinity as you grew a little more comfortable with your answers and the whole situation, as though you weren’t talking to an emperor, or even a potential master or Alpha but rather… someone who saw you for who you are.

You liked that. You liked him.

You wanted to stay with him.

You wished to-

“Alright, I think that’s enough. I will have a talk with your Master and we’ll settle things.” He stands up and dusts his attire a little.

Your breath stops.

He is leaving.

He is leaving.

Did you do something wrong? Didn’t he say he liked your appearance? Are you such a failed disgraceful omega? Your last chance at bonding. You didn’t even get to impress him. You want to call out to him, do something, anything. Panic rises in your chest, drowning you, freezing you. You can barely think, instincts screaming, begging, wailing in despair for him. This kind Alpha, this gentle, patient, imposing, majestic Alpha who’s too good for you and yet something deep inside you yearns for him…!

“I am very glad to have met you little xiānshòu.” A small smile tugs at his lips. Then, he turns and heads for the sliding doors.

So, you do the first thing that comes to your mind.

The empty cup falls from your hands, your footsteps thump loudly on the wooden floors, soft fabric clenches between your fingers.

As soft as the lips you crash yours onto.

…

It only lasts a few seconds but when you back just a little, ears low and tail curled up in apprehension, you realize what you did.

You’d kissed him, you’d kissed the emperor.

You’re shaking like a leaf, clinging to him for dear life. He stares at you with wide surprised eyes but you’d rather die right here for your insolence than live the rest of your days in regret.

His scent takes on an alluring hint to it and your inner Omega is overjoyed. Up so close it is almost irresistible. His face remains impassive, if a little tense, but you can see in his eyes something you identify very well… hunger, desire.

“Lord Morax… t-the nest… please.”

“Y-You don’t have to-”

“Please! Allow me to please you, allow me to show you…how…” You whisper against his lips, leaning in again as your eyes flutter close.

And suddenly his hands wrap around you and pull you close, cupping your face, curling at your waist, there’s something possessive in it and you feel slight vibrations as he growls deep from his chest against your mouth. But there is also something sweet, something delicate…

And for once, you want more. You want this.

How did you end up here? In the most beautiful nest you’d ever constructed, with the most handsome, kind, caring Alpha you’d ever met?

His kisses are deep and slow, completely unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You lie on the soft sheets as he looms over you, exploring your mouth with an unhurried pace, hungry yet not forceful, letting you timidly do the same at your own pace.

This is nice…

His hands run along your body, caressing your skin through your flimsy attire. His touch curious but gentle.

“May I?” He asks, tugging at the fabric off your shoulder.

You shiver, at his voice, as the pure want in it, in his eyes, in his scent.

“Y-yes my lord…”

“Hmm…” His kisses trail down your jaw down to your neck as he starts pulling the garments off. Careful, instead of simply ripping them apart, your heart skips a beat. “If we’re going to do this, you can use my name and not just titles…”

Your top falls off and goosebumps litter your skin, nipples pebbled as one of his hands cups your breast.

“M-Morax…” You try, shakily, as if testing out the word alone on your lips.

“No, little one. Zhongli. That is my name.” He kisses down your shoulders, nipping at the skin.

“Ah!” Your tail flickers around and you purr.

You take the initiative to kiss him this time, and your hands start roaming his foreign clothes, fumbling with knots and pawing at the fabric. He chuckles at your frustrated whine. You want more, more of this feeling, more of him. To touch his skin, cover him in kisses, worship him.

(Show him what a good Omega you can be.)

No…

You want to make him feel good and please him.

Elegant fabric falls down discarded as he shakes off the layers of his top and you blink surprised. The fabric was bulky and covered up his figure. Lean but muscled, tantalizing like honey. You immediately latch onto him, nosing, scenting, nipping and kissing, feeling the faint outline of his abs and muscles twitch under your touch. He smells so good, he feels so good…

Your Omega instincts are starting to cloud your senses more and more.

Suddenly one of his hands gently squeezes a soft breast and you moan at the sudden touch “O-Oh!”

“You’re sensitive here, do you like this?” He asks, massaging your chest.

You whimper and nod frantically, tail wagging behind you. You had never been this responsive to having your chest played with, though then again, it was rare… but his sensual touches were quickly undoing you. Wetness pools at your gut and you rub your legs together.

Lord Mor- Zhongli… leans down then and something wet flicks over your nipple making you gasp, before warmth surrounds your nub. You cry out even louder. He sucks and laps at it and you instinctively tangle your hands on his hard dark hair, your legs wrapping around his waist.

You groan again, too many layers on the way.

“C-clothes… off, please!”

“As you wish, my dear dragoness.”

He continues squeezing, kissing, caressing and lapping at your skin, leaving a couple of hickeys along the way and teasing his Alpha fangs against you as his attention descends through your body once more, continuing his trail of kisses along your hip. His fingers dip down the waistband of your mesh pants and when you raise your hips to help, he pulls them down.

You’ve been naked in front of others more times than you’d like to count. But there’s something oddly intimate and special about this situation right now.

Your ears lower in apprehension, and your tail flicks by your side, resisting the urge to cover up. Lying down with your legs slightly spread around him. Already flushed, sweaty and panting.

“…You’re gorgeous.”

Huh?!

“I’m so lucky to have found you.” Zhongli nips at your hip. “So lucky that you want me too.” He kisses at your inner thigh.

Your breath hitches.

You’re the lucky one. Completely overjoyed that this Alpha likes you, desires you.

The first touch at your core has you mewling.

Zhongli strokes at your folds, still gentle, finding you soaked as your slick coats his fingers. Your body jolts and you moan “A-Ah!” He smirks against your thigh and nips there again as his fingers move in circles, teasing, testing, before moving to your clit. A finger pad stroking it just so, making your whole frame tremble, like every nerve in your body is being stimulated.

“Mngh- please!”

His fingers travel between your folds. First one sliding in rather easily, pumping steadily as you shudder in pleasure, and then two, making you writhe, bucking your hips against the touch, pushing them deeper, chasing that feeling.

Your body feels hot, too hot. Every sensation blocked except that warm wet feeling down there, in your new heaven. Your hands claw at the sheets, a pleasant fog setting in and you can feel yourself slipping into your most primal needs. But oh, oh, not like this.

You want him. Need him.

“You- y-you! please my lord!”

Something snaps in the Alpha’s eyes and Zhongli growls. Golden eyes dark, swallowed by lust and need and you whine when his fingers leave you. You vaguely hear rustling noises and before you can protest again, he pulls you up back on his lap and oh…

He’s big.

His erection stands proud between your bodies, rubbing against you and you shuffle impatiently, nuzzling against him.

Yes, yes…

Zhongli helps positioning you, gives himself a few strokes, and you feel his cockhead kiss at your entrance, you whine and stare at him rather confused. “L-Like this? B-But I have never- This is n-not how-”

He kisses your forehead, your nose, and pecks at your lips. “I can imagine this is very different from how they’ve taught you Alphas mount Omegas, but I my dear, intend to make love to you.” He whispers, hot breath fanning your cheeks as he nuzzles you, so close, so intimate. Your heart hammering wildly in your chest. “Like this you will have more control. I want you to relax, enjoy, my sweet dragoness.” He kisses at your cheek, down your jaw to your neck. “May I?”

You can feel your eyes water. No one had ever told you that. No Alpha had ever been this patient or even asked your permission before. Words die on your throat as you stare mesmerized at Zhongli. Grateful. Incredulous. Completely enamored.

You nod, and he guides you down.

It’s different like this. So much different.

You bite your lip and whine a little once you start to move, his hands hold your hips as you raise them and sink back down on his cock, inch by delicious inch. You feel… full, but warm, good. Your insides clench around him and he groans.

Oh… you could get used to this…

“Hah… ah! … m-my lord... I’m…” You feel dizzy but in a good way, your body tingles all over and it’s exhilarating, addicting.

He leans forward a bit, nosing at your collarbone, soft kisses tickle your skin and he… he’s almost purring in delight, inhaling your scent. “I told you, you can just call me by my name... Would you let me hear it?”

You buck languidly on his embrace, enjoying this…sensual experience, these new feelings and sensations. His tender closeness, his intoxicating pheromones, his deep baritone.

Him.

“Zhongli…”

His name comes out as a needy cry and he growls, Alpha pride clearly satisfied. His hands roam your body just enough to shift position and pull you even closer, hips rolling in tandem, picking up speed, his fangs grazing your shoulder.

Your head is swimming in pleasure, fuzzy like stuffed with cotton, small little “Ah… ah… ah!” moans punched out of you. You’re vaguely aware of your nails digging onto his skin but you can’t even stop yourself, you need to hold onto something, anything.  

Even your tail subconsciously curls around his ankle (and he doesn’t even seem to mind), like every cell of your body is screaming at you to hold onto him and never let go.

Zhongli’s own breathing comes out in harsh puffs and satisfied groans as he buries himself in you over and over, the sound of skin slapping on skin becomes more prominent.

And then, he hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

Your eyes snap open (when had you closed them?) Back arching as if struck by lightning and letting out a high-pitched moan. H-How did he do that?! What was that? You don’t remember ever feeling like this in previous bonding attempts.

“M-more?” You mewl in delight.

Zhongli looks at you with a satisfied smirk and it only fuels the fire in your belly.

“Gladly.”

That same wonderful feeling travels up and down your body again and again as your moans and whimpers rise in volume, calling his name over and over. Zhongli kisses you, deep and passionate. Whispers praises and sweet nothings on your flickering dragon ears. Touches you so soft and reverently. Your body feels so hot, your mind going blank, you can feel the base of his cock swelling with his knot and the familiar coil of pleasure tightening as you anticipate it, crave it, more intense and satisfying than ever before.

And just as you reach that high, his fangs sink into you.

You come with a squeal, body tensing, clinging onto him, clenching on him as he lets out a deep satisfied groan, knotting you. Wet stickiness coats your insides and thighs. And everything feels right, just right. Perfect even.

It takes a moment to come back to your senses, and it’s to Zhongli’s hands rubbing circles at your back comfortingly, while he laps and kisses at the bonding mark he left on you.

And then the high comes crashing down.

The bonding mark.

Tears well up in your eyes and start rolling down your cheeks, your tail uncoiling from him and curling around yourself protectively, ears down.

Please no… this can’t be…

Please stay…

Please.

Zhongli immediately notices your distress, in your actions and your scent, completely different altogether. His own instincts going wild at the lack of a happy sated mate scent. “Darling, what’s wrong? I’m sorry did it hurt that much? Did I… harm you in some way or did something wrong?” Oh, he sounds so genuinely concerned.

You shake your head desperately. Of course he hasn’t.

But you will.

Your body will. Betray you as always.

No bonding mark has stayed in your neck for longer than a few minutes. They all fade.

Just like the alphas that place them in you.

And then comes the anger, the guilt, the disappointment, the despair, the loneliness…

You can’t take it. Not this time.

“S-stay… please…” You sob.

Your voice sounds so broken, so weak and tiny, absolutely heart wrenching.

And Zhongli embraces you.

“I will, my dearest dragoness. I promise you.” He kisses one of your horns.

You want to believe him but you can only cry harder…

The room is dark as your eyes flutter open. It takes a few minutes to adjust and for your mind to catch up. Where are you…? You look around at the wooden walls, nestled in comfy sheets, you see some wooden cabinets and a tea set-

…!!!

You jolt awake, tumbling some pillows from your fancy nest. Your last chance at bonding. The emperor. He was leaving, and then…!

You slap a hand against the junction between neck and shoulder and feel something there, a bandage… you try to stare at it confused, though it’s impossible from the angle. And then fear consumes you. What if… it’s not there…?

Your body is still naked, though you have been covered with a thick fabric while sleeping, as it now pools at your lap, your Omega scent and that of an Alpha mixed together pleasantly, you turn around.

The Emperor. Lord Morax. Zhongli.

He sleeps peacefully by your side, on your nest, after having mated you.

He stayed.

You stare at his handsome features, fair skin, dark long hair, strong jaw, muscled arms. His lips slightly parted as he breathes evenly. So at ease.

You want to reach out and brush at his hair, touch his face, kiss him.

You want this moment to last forever.

Looking up slightly you see the large mirror, see yourself. A tiny thing, with freaky ears, horns and a tail.

It was… good, while it lasted. Almost like a dream.

Tears start falling down your cheeks again and you try to be as silent as possible as you pull and lift at the bandage in your shoulder. And there underneath it is… something?

Your fingers trace a mark, a wound, it stings and you hiss.

No way. There is no way.

Hope flutters in your chest, your stomach flips and you feel dizzy, nervous. A bonding mark? Is it real? Is it still there?

You shuffle out of the nest as fast and stealthily as you can, standing in front of the mirror. Hair a mess, eyes wide, pale in fear.

And there it is. The clear mark of an Alpha bite, still rather tender. A claim. A bond.

You start sobbing as you trace it, touch it, feel it. It must have been hours, there is no way…

It’s there, it’s there, for real. You want to laugh, to cry, you’re still nervous, scared, hopeful, happy, a million things at once.

But how? Why now?

“Hnng… darling? Are you crying again?” You stiffen as you hear the voice, deep and hoarse, laced with drowsiness. You turn and see him sit up and yawn carelessly like a rishboland tiger. Elegant and intimidating like one too with his bright golden eyes, Alpha fangs and muscled figure. Still naked as well, you note.

“T-the bonding mark… it’s still there!” You exclaim to him, gesturing to it.

“You should let it heal nicely.”

“Y-You don’t get it!” You huff. “My Lord… it’s still there! I’m bonded, I’m yours!”

He chuckles. “Rather, I would say we belong to each other, now.”

Belong to each other.

That sounds nice.

You turn back to the mirror, still staring at it, poking it with a finger softly, as if afraid it’ll disappear, as if it was an illusion, a dream.

But it’s there.

“For years… for years I thought I was doing s-something wrong, that there was something… wrong… with me…” You cry softly. “No Alpha had even bonded me…”

Suddenly you feel strong arms curl around your frame, a chin resting at your shoulder where it kisses your skin, and then brushes over the mark. It stings but you welcome it.

It means it’s real, all of this is.

Zhongli inhales, taking in your scent. “Well you see my dear, a dragonblood… a xiānshòu like you, can only be truly bonded by one of its own kind.”

The words take a moment to process, to sit on your brain, and you frown confused, staring at him from the mirror. And then your eyes widen.

Golden antlers crown his head, majestic and almost glowing, small scales appear under his striking amber eyes, the color of burnt ocher. A large tail, even bigger than yours in golden and brown hues, sways lazily behind him, before finding yours and intertwining with it, the feel is foreign but not unwelcome. Like holding hands.

You turn around so fast you almost trip if it weren’t for his hold. The dragonblood features are still there, in plain sight.

Your throat feels dry.

“You… you’re…”

He raises a finger to his lips and shushes you, then smiles. “I am yours my dear. Just as you are now mine.”

You cling to him and hide your face on his chest as you cry. Overwhelmed, relieved.

Yes, this is where you belong.

[introspectivememories]

i've always had this hc that romans are a lot more neutral about the gods than the greeks. looking at the books, it very much feels like a transactional relationship between the romans and the gods. the gods ask and the romans do. they take care of the temples, they make offerings, they pray when they need something, and then they go about their lives. and so i've always believed that when a new roman demigod makes their way to cj, the older demigods/legacies/civilians always tell them not to rely on the gods for anything.

don't think of them like they have feelings, they'll say, the gods take what they want and we dutifully give. more importantly, don't rely on them. if you have a godly parent, no you don't. you have someone who donated sperm or carried you. they care as long as you can give back. and being favored by them is a sentence worse than death. live unnoticed.

then do you think they tried to tell jason grace (youngest in the legion for the longest time, rome's child, jupiter's son, juno's champion) this and he didn't believe them? do think he couldn't believe them not when he was juno's champion? not when he was lupa's youngest? not when he was rome's favored child down to his bone? not when he was their dutiful soldier, their golden boy, their saving grace?

years later, standing on the battlefield after the second giant war, do you think jason grace,

(no sense of self, no personality, no memories, no past, nothing except his loyalty and his duty to rome, its people and its gods)

looked at percy jackson

(memories restored, sense of self intact, girlfriend who never stopped looking, everything even without being overly loyal to gods)

and wondered what his faith got him?

[genshinnrambles]

Archon Quest Chapter V Notes - Act I and Act II

“The victors will burn bright, while the losers must turn to ash.”

Just wanted to do some review before the finale and organize all of the ideas presented so far in each act. Each act’s themes, introduced concepts, main plot, and sub plots as I saw them are summarized, with some denoted speculations. This post contains all AQ content from version 5.0, or Act I and Act II. Noted from versions 5.1 and 5.2 are here.

Spoilers: Well, it’s in the title. You’ve been warned!

Act I: Flowers Resplendent on the Sun-Scorched Sojourn

“Flowers” are frequently used as a metaphor for lives in Genshin (“Flower of Life” artifacts, “The Song Burning in the Embers,” the gardener metaphor from Shadows Amidst Snowstorms)

"Our forebearers carved 'miracles' into obsidian rock, yet future bearers looked upon them and saw 'strength.'" The miracles of the past become the motivations of the present. The limitations of the past become the breakthroughs of today... “

Themes: “No one fights alone”*, legacy, memory, and forgetting*, the meaning of strength, mutualism and partnership between humans and “nature,” the cruelty of war and the Abyss

(My favorite motif of “no one fights alone” is the generosity characters exhibit with food and drinks. C: )

*These themes are overarching to all of Chapter V, but are more prominent in some acts and less in others. 

Concepts Introduced:

Ancient Names: A name gifted by the Wayob of an individual tribe to a tribe member. Not everyone gets to be an Ancient Name bearer, and they are essential to the Pilgrimage. Ancient Names are also not unique to each individual, but rather “legacies” that are passed down through generations of Natlanese. Each Ancient Name bearer also holds a feather-shaped obsidian stone, with their Ancient Name (sans vowels) written on it in the Abyss script. It preserves their accomplishments as memories. Ancient Names perish with their bearer if they fall in the Night Warden Wars.

A “flower of life” and her “plume of death.”

The clear analogue to this concept is Vision bearers, who enjoy a certain amount of privilege respective to “ordinary people” in society, though having a Vision can be seen as a blessing or a curse depending on who you ask:

Paimon: ...Then, you're saying this stone doesn't have any actual power? Like, it's not gonna make Paimon super strong or smart? Pacal: None at all, and that is precisely how it exercises its unique value. Kachina: Think of it this way... If you become a hero because the heavens granted you strength, are your triumphs earned or given?

Uthabiti (Resilience): Kachina’s Ancient Name.

Pilgrimage of the Return of the Sacred Flame: A tournament to determine the strongest warriors of the present to fight in the Night Warden Wars. Participation is restricted to Natlanese and consists of two stages, a team stage and an individual stage. In other words, Natlan values both team and individual strength, seeing both as essential to victory.

Night Warden Wars: A battle between the strongest Ancient Name bearers of the Pilgrimage and the advancing Abyss, which Natlan is constantly at war with due to the special circumstance of their Ley Lines.

Saurian companions: Each tribe has a special relationship with a specific Saurian type, and humans live alongside Saurians in Natlan. Saurians are also partners in combat for some Natlanese.

Wayob: The “will” of each tribe that dwells in the Night Kingdom, symbolized by the obsidian totem. 

Pyro Archon: In Natlan, humans ascend to this role due to the rules Xbalanque wrote for the nation. Mavuika was also the Archon during the Cataclysm.

Kachina: I do know this, though — even after becoming the Pyro Archon, the person in the position still grows old and requires rest.

Phlogiston: Primordial elemental energy (formally stated in Act IV). 

The Sacred Flame: Provides Natlan with protection from the Abyss, fueled by Contending Fire collected from battles during the Pilgrimage. Outlander participation in the Pilgrimage does not generate Contending Fire, hence their being barred from the tournament.

If Ancient Name bearers are analogous to Vision bearers, then are Outlanders in the context of the Pilgrimage analogous to people from outside of Teyvat? If so, could the analog to the Pilgrimage tell us something about the nature of Teyvat? Personally, I think the underlying mechanism of the Vision system and the boon it provides to Celestia lies in this story.

The Ode of Resurrection: A song with the power to resurrect fallen Ancient Name bearers in the Night Warden Wars, provided there is at least one survivor to return from the Night Kingdom. The Pyro Archon steps into the Sacred Flame to retrieve them.

The Night Kingdom: The liminal space between body and mind, life and death. Comparable to the space below the Celestial Nail in “Perilous Trail.” In other words, it’s not quite the Abyss, but rather the “boundary” between the Abyss and Teyvat. In other words, it’s the Ley Lines of Natlan.

Abyssal corrosion/wounds: Technically corrosion is a pretty old concept by now, but in this context we learn about it as a potential cost in Natlan’s war against the Abyss. Corrosion stays in the body and restricts an individual’s ability to participate in things they used to do with ease, let alone participate in the Pilgrimage again.

Here, Abyssal corrosion is a metaphor for injury in the line of battle, which can leave both physical and emotional scars. 

Abyssal Pylon: A gate between the Night Kingdom and Teyvat that allows Abyssal creatures to pass into Teyvat.

Main Plot:

This act establishes several key concepts and largely serves as a worldbuilding and set up act. We learn about the shared traditions and customs between the six tribes, which center on the Wayob, Ancient Names, the Night Kingdom, and the meaning behind the “nation of war.” 

The Pilgrimage of the Return of the Sacred Flame is being held in the Stadium of the Sacred Flame to collect Contending Fire and send another wave of warriors to the frontlines against the Abyss. Kachina of the Children of Echoes learns to value her will and achieves her dream of winning the tournament; her reward is to fight alongside the strongest warriors in the Night Warden Wars. While she’s away, the Traveler goes with Mualani to the People of the Springs and meets Atea, who sustained an injury from the Abyss in a past Night Warden War. Mualani, the Traveler, Marokau and Hikueru plan a party for Atea at the old hot springs she frequented before her injury and work together to renovate it, but the Abyss attacks the People of the Springs overnight. After finding Atea injured at the old hot springs, the Traveler remembers way back in Mondstadt when they purified Dvalin’s tears and tries that super cool power out again on Atea’s festering injury. Atea reveals to the Traveler and Mualani that her fate is sealed, and she only has a few days left; she leaves them with a “relic” to give to Mavuika, which “embodies fond memories and [her] strength of will.”

“Life is a journey in which there’s no turning back, so forge ahead and don’t hold back.”

Subplots:

Kachina’s struggle to assert her will (strength), which culminates in her defeating Mualani in the tournament

Kachina: "The key to winning is in the strength of the team captain," that's what everyone says. But, uh... the difference in strength between bearers can practically be night and day. Kachina: Mualani, I... I really want to win this time. I want to win this Pilgrimage and become a true warrior!

Phlogiston and the unique position Natlan occupies in relation to the rest of Teyvat.

The price of the endless war against the Abyss. Though it’s the greatest honor in Natlan to participate in the Night Warden Wars and emerge victorious in the Pilgrimage, the cost is cases like Atea’s or the erasure of an entire legacy if an Ancient Name bearer falls. The ultimate cost, then, is the erasure of all of Natlan if they ever fail in the war.

The weight of legacy and the importance of memory is central to Mavuika’s character. The ultimate cost of the war is unacceptable to her.

Act II: Black Stone Under A White Stone

Here, “Black Stone” refers to the Obsidian in the Night Kingdom.

Themes: Sacrifice, regret, “the shape of time” (another name for legacy), ideals vs. the real, fate

Concepts Introduced:

Abyssal cunning: another concept that isn’t quite new if you’re familiar with “Perilous Trail,” but since that’s optional content it counts. The Abyss can take on a form specific to each land’s memories to bring about destruction - this matches the Traveler’s past encounters with the Abyss, such as the Withering of Sumeru, the miasma of Chenyu Vale, the poisoned waters of Erinnyes, and the tumor beneath the Sacred Sakura.

Malipo (Turnfire): Kinich’s Ancient Name, once held by Burkina (Cataclysm era) and Yupanqui (Xbalanque era).

The Sea of Souls: The “unity” in the Ley Lines of all memories and emotions held by each individual on the land. Where individuality goes to die.

Spiritspeaker Stone: An artifact Citlali created to commune with the Wayob.

Wayna: As you probably know, your intended destination is completely different from the real world. The Night Kingdom is like a river flowing with "concepts," and the Ancient Name you seek is like a tiny fish swimming downstream. In that sense, the Stone is like a fishing boat drifting down the river.

“Concepts” (lol): fundamental ideas underlying a physical thing. The Night Kingdom is a realm of “concepts,” which is why it’s typically only visited through one’s consciousness. This is also why all descriptions of the Night Kingdom rely so heavily on analogy. These “ideas” need physical vessels to ground them in the real world.

Mualani: Wait, are you saying you're going to use a real net to "catch" Kachina's Ancient Name? How does that work when one's tangible and one's not? Vichama: By creating something tangible in our world — like a net — we can create a connection to a corresponding "concept" in the Night Kingdom. Basically, I'm going to use the "concept of a net" to catch something equally intangible — an Ancient Name.

Talismans/relics: Items that hold the memories and will of each of their owners, a symbol of the “legacy” theme. 

Mavuika: Most people perceive time as a linear concept, almost like a straight line that can only move forward. We cannot change the past or predict the future. But, there's also a different theory, one that I believe to be closer to the truth. Namely, that the "past," "present," and "future" all exist at once. [...] Mavuika: Let's say your journey ended right now. Thinking back on your experience in each nation, which one would you say was the most important? Traveler: I'd have to say all of them. Mavuika: Exactly. Even at the end of your journey, the things you experienced along the way don't cease to exist. They become part of who you are. Take out a portion of that journey, and you would likely make very different decisions, and eventually arrive at a very different destination. The future is the same way. It exists even though it has yet to come to pass. We just lack the means to perceive it. Of course, there are those with the power to foresee the future. They simply call it by a different name — "fate." You're quite familiar with that concept, I would imagine…

See also, all of the personal item stories in each playable character’s story page.

Umoja (Unity): Mualani’s Ancient Name, previously held by Tupac (Cataclysm Era).

Main Plot:

This act raises the Chapter’s stakes, creates suspense regarding the two unawakened heroes, and sets up future conflict between Mavuika and Capitano. It also establishes Mavuika’s greatest personal strengths (patience, empathy, humility, and long-term thinking) and hints at her fatal flaws (enormous sense of responsibility, tendency for self-sacrifice).

The Traveler and Mualani learn Kachina fell in battle, so they head to the stadium to partake in the Rite of Resurrection. However, something goes wrong and Kachina’s Ancient Name is lost in the Night Kingdom. Mavuika gathers an investigation team in the Speaker’s Chamber and lays out the stakes of the failed Rite of Resurrection, specifically the doubt it sowed in people’s hearts of the Pilgrimmage’s value. 

“[The Abyss’s] goal isn’t to break the rules that make the Ode of Resurrection work. It’s to destroy the people’s faith in them.”

In the presence of two of her awakened heroes, Mavuika discloses her plan to sacrifice her power to fuel the Sacred Flame a little longer. But before she can do that, Capitano shows up with a cryptic message about her plan and fights her for the Gnosis. After he flees, she sacrifices her remaining power to the flame. After she does this, a similar visual effect is produced as was seen in the Ignition teaser:

(I expect to see this effect again in Act V and learn its meaning, for now I can only speculate its related to one’s sense of self)

The Traveler, Mualani, and Chasca use the Spiritspeaker Stone, a net, and obsidian to salvage Kachina’s Ancient Name from the Night Kingdom with Vichama’s help. Vichama had hoped to salvage his own fallen friend’s Ancient Name as well, but the Spiritspeaker Stone is overwhelmed by the Abyss and Chasca destroys it. They return to Mavuika with Kachina’s Ancient Name to pinpoint her location in the Night Kingdom. When they conjure her image, she reveals that the reason the Rite of Resurrection failed is because the Wayob is being affected by the Abyss. They head to the Night Kingdom in their physical forms and discover ruins of the ancient dragon civilization on the way. 

Side note, this looks eerily similar to the “wheel” in Bottle Land, which um. Yeah. Loom of Fate, anyone?

(Also, there’s a leitmotif here from the room with the Celestial Nail in the Chasm)

They find a rift entrance and make their way through the hostile Sea of Souls under the protection of Vichama’s lost friend, Mallko. After finding Kachina, she leads them to the corroded Wayob’s totem to purify it. A pyro Abyss Lector intercepts them and talks a bunch of shit undermines the ideals they value to sow doubt and distract them from the totem, but Mualani concedes that while the ideals themselves may be meaningless, the actions that uphold them aren’t. Mualani awakens to her Ancient Name’s will and inherits Tupac’s memories.

The Abyss’s cunning is why it feels uncanny.

After purifying the Wayob, the rift out of the Night Kingdom closes and Mavuika’s consciousness saves them at the cost of every relic she kept in the Speaker’s Chamber. She discloses the truth that Natlan’s destruction is imminent, and that the events of the present were set in motion 500 years in the past. The price of their victory then was their faith in the customs used to fight back the Abyss. The first part of Mavuika’s plan, then, was to reunite the tribes and rebuild the Wayob’s strength, after which a “hero” would be selected from each tribe. Mavuika’s plan as it currently stands does not guarantee that each hero will awaken their Name - that is left up to fate.

Mavuika pays her own visit to a realm of consciousness and revisits several conversations with past figures, seemingly ruminating on the weight of her plan. “Voices of the Past” speak to her in a non-corporeal form, implying that these are past Pyro Archons.

(Acts shocked that this is exactly what she did to herself).

It concludes with a cliffhanger where Capitano speaks to someone who is out of frame, ostensibly his co-conspirator from the Masters of the Night Wind. Capitano believes this person will be useful for his own plan to counter Natlan's crisis.

Subplots:

Mualani’s survivor’s guilt, which is juxtaposed with Vichama’s survivor’s guilt. In Vichama’s case, his guilt was a symptom of his obsession with Mallko’s death and the delusion that he could ever bring him back, which is why the plan to rescue Kachina appealed to him so much.

Vichama: If I could do it all over again, I would have followed Mallko to the frontlines no matter what. Even with an injured leg, there were still things I could have done. That way... even if the outcome stayed the same, I still would have fought alongside him to the end. There are critical junctures in life, and if you don't seize the chance to act, there's no going back.

This brings to mind something Acheron said in Honkai: Star Rail:

“But you said, ‘Sleep is the rehearsal of death,’ so why does life slumber? Because we are not ready for the final rest. So you can definitely understand why we want to be prepared. Even if the ending has been predetermined, that's fine. There are countless things that humans cannot change. But before the end, there are many things that humans can do while on their journey. And because of this, the ‘end’ will thus reveal a completely different meaning.”

What Vichama is getting at is that fate had no bearing on his will, it didn’t matter if it couldn’t be changed because the journey to that end would still be different, and for him, more meaningful. This revelation empowers Mualani to move forward.

Mavuika’s connection to the Sacred Flame and Natlan’s memories.

Capitano's relationship to Natlan and personal motivations for seeking the Pyro Gnosis.

Chasca and Chuychu’s apparent difficulty communicating with each other and ability to understand one another. “Apparent” being the key word.

Also, Chasca’s survivor’s guilt.

Kachina's struggle to assert her own will to life, not as something that must match the legacy of her Ancient Name, but as a continuation of its story that belongs only to her.

[sometimesanequine]

dear modern is so right about the sideways bookshelves

[paper-enigma]

Had art block and decided to experiment with highlighters

3 hours later I’ve got THIS

I LOVE IT SO MUCH

Here it is next to my first experiment from yesterday

@potatoeofwisdom the art flow was STRONG with this one!!!

[prontaentrega]

just finished tgaa1. beautifully crafted game but it felt like an insanely long turorial

[marshmallowgoop]

So if DC were that kind of series, how well do you think a HeiShinRan love triangle would work?

A-are you reading my mind? One of the posts I wanted to make is exactly about this!

I... even put together ranji.psd for it... a lot longer ago than I thought, wow.

Thank you for encouraging me to finally actually write this.

So, first off: I'm admittedly not the most familiar with the Detective Conan manga. But I've scanned over some assorted cases in the manga, particularly Heiji cases (of course), and I couldn't help but be immensely intrigued by a few extra interactions between Heiji and Ran that weren't adapted into the anime (Files 93, 151, 152):

The second one isn't too noteworthy—and honestly, it was probably cut from the anime because this plot point of Heiji deducting in an exaggerated accent is, as far as I can tell, never brought up again or resolved—but the protectiveness that Kogoro displays there does catch my interest. He clearly seems to see Heiji as a potential romantic partner for Ran, something that I don't think ever comes up anywhere else.

But it's the first instance that gets to me the most. Something the anime does adapt is that Ran only starts warming up to Heiji because he reminds her of Shinichi (Episode 48):

Further, it's later revealed in the series that both Ran and Kazuha love seeing their detective friends smile upon solving a case (File 319):

So, that moment of Ran pushing Conan out of the way so that she can watch Heiji work is loaded with stuff, for all three characters. For Ran, she misses Shinichi so desperately that someone who merely reminds her of him is enough to make her grin and blush and feel at ease. For Heiji, constantly compared to others—even called "The Kudo of the West" in FUNimation's English dub!—there's something achingly tragic about being admired not for who you are but for the person you resemble. For Shinichi, Heiji represents everything that he has lost. He can't give Ran the victorious smile that she's looking for anymore, and she scolds him and removes him from the picture.

But the third "Ranji" example, from File 152, perhaps points to a shift. When Ran lists what she likes about Shinichi (Episodes 2, 42), thoughtful isn't an adjective that leaves her lips:

(That last one, though... girl....)

Ran appreciating Heiji for his own qualities, rather than seeing him as only an echo of Shinichi, does grab my attention.

Of course, personally speaking, I don't really like love triangles. They tend to be tired, exhausting drama, and in this case, I'm a HeiShinRan (and HeiShinKazuRan) supporter, so ultimately, I'd like them all happily loving each other.

But I do find it unfair, in my probably embarrassingly limited experience with love triangles, that they are often composed of two women longing for the affection of one man. So, I can't lie—I maybe yearn a little bit for the love triangle that was arguably being set up here before getting scrapped?

If nothing else, it would mean more interactions between Ran and Heiji, and I would adore that. Out of the main cast, Heiji's pretty much only allowed meaningful interactions with Conan/Shinichi and Kazuha, and, yeah, I don't love that it'd be a love triangle giving him more meaningful interactions with Ran, but I would love the additional interactions. I'd love to see Ran more involved in the cases that the boys solve. I'd love to have moments where Heiji and Ran bond over being accomplished practitioners of their respective martial arts, or how they both have famous fathers, or literally anything.

Plus, I think a scenario where Ran is genuinely interested in pursuing Heiji romantically would also have a huge impact on Shinichi's actions. He likes Heiji! If he saw that Heiji makes Ran happy, would he really keep breaking her heart and asking her to wait for him?

And, for Heiji, I feel like this setup also allows more opportunities for him to seriously confront his insecurities. "She only likes me because she can't have you" is a conversation I could see between him and Shinichi, and that would absolutely have my interest. I have so many feelings about Episode 479 and will finish that 20-page essay someday maybe because it's probably the biggest example of tackling Heiji's insecurities that I know of.

There's something similar with Ran and Kazuha already (File 280), and gosh, I so wish that we got more exploration into it than just a, "Kazuha... You're so cute! ❤️" from Ran.

All this said... it's way easier and less messy to not go into love triangle business at all, and I'm totally cool with that decision! It's cute that Ran and Shinichi are so supportive of Heiji and Kazuha, and vice versa. Love triangles tend to be pretty obnoxious. But I do think there is some compelling character exploration that could be done with a HeiShinRan triangle that I wouldn't hate—especially if it ended with happy HeiShinRan/HeiShinKazuRan.

[girls-and-honey]

my boss just said ‘manifesting this for us’ in the group chat and she’s being 100% serious

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

I was playing ace attorney last night and had a realization of my true power. So here's some of the dream situation in ace attorney format lmao

PLEASE DON'T LET THIS FLOP I SPENT SOOOO LONG ON IT

Note:

This isn't meant to be a proper summary, I'm just having fun sldfkj

If there's errors in the video then oopsie. I'm not gonna fix them just bc it would be too much effort. (Also, some things are worded weirdly bc I took them directly from videos. Primarily with stuff Dream's saying)

If there's errors in the transcript below, then let me know!! Though I haven't captioned everything in the video, just all the dialogue and some relevant sound effects.

In case anyone's curious, I used objection.lol

Transcription under cut, though I'd recommend watching the video for music and sound effects :]]]]] I just put it as an option for those who use screen readers, have bad connection, etc.

The second week of January 2025.

Chat, as the Gallery in Ace Attorney: GET HIS ASS. SLAY (LITERALLY) hi youtube

[Gavel slams]

Tubbo, as the Judge: Trial is now in Session for Dreamwastaken.

Tubbo: Dream, your opening statement, please.

Dream, as Cody Hackins: Tommyinnit posted a video yesterday that was titled "Dream" where he said a lot of stuff about me that isn't true.

[Hold it!]

Tommyinnit, as Phoenix Wright: Is it not true that you called my fanbase a slur?

Dream: Okay yeah, I did do that. I'm sorry. Genuinely.

Tommyinnit: Good. That was the absolute bare minimum.

Tommyinnit: But what about the misogyny? And how you and your friends treat women?

Dream: You have no examples.

[clever sound]

Dream: What if I just said you're racist and called it a day!

Tubbo: You called two different women "whores." Please amend your testimony.

Dream: Ah. Yeah, but it was to my friend. She wasn't upset at all!

[Objection!]

Ludwig, as older Phoenix Wright: Lmao

Dream: Okay but I meant it in the affectionate way!!! Like in the way I've called my cat a whore.

[Loud chatter from the Gallery]

Chat: SHANE DAWSON???? HE WHAT!!!!!!! [shuttering camera] I'm lost. Are they still fighting over discs?

Dream: Whatever, that's long enough ago. I did what I could about the situation.

Tommyinnit: My video wasn't just about that. It was also how you've been awful to me. It started with early Dream SMP when-

[Objection!]

Dream: Tommy, there's no way that you actually believe this. Saying I was terrible to you with no examples or anything- like- if you don't think that my intention was to help you, then what was my intention? Why did I do all of that?

[Loud chatter from the Gallery]

Chat: BRO THAT'S WHAT WE'RE WONDERING TEXTBOOK MANIPULATION POGCHAMP Is this new lore for c!Dream?

[Hold it!]

Tommyinnit: You thrived off of holding my success over my head! You didn't treat me like an equal!

Dream: [Desk slam] I saw potential in you!

Tommyinnit: Yet you called me a promoter for saying I was working on my podcast, book, and comedy tour?

Dream: [Critical hit sound] So why is my content worth less value?! I'm sorry that I like coding and hanging out with my friends??

[Gavel slams]

Tubbo: No one was saying that?

Tubbo: You keep taking Tommy's clips out of context. Shouldn't you be more responsible with the clips you take since you're aware of the gravity of some of these claims?

Dream: [Surprised Sound] Because-

Dream: You're saying-

Dream: Uh-

Chat: [lots of periods and question marks]

[Disappointed sound]

Dream: That's a good point, Tubbo.

Dream: That's actually a really good point.

Tubbo: Thanks. :/

Jack Manifold, as Winston Payne: [while applause plays] !! Shut Up I'm Talking Patreon ONLY $7 !!

[statiicstag]

It's likely not what most would be thinking of in a moment like this but Alastor had never claimed to be an ordinary experience – his mind wanders to how strange a sensation it is to kiss a face so flat. He'd always been something on the side of fascinated by Vox; it was his odd look that had drawn him toward him in the first place, that bulky television set he'd donned in place of a head so terribly bizarre. Amongst all these sinners, he'd yet to meet another like him.

He may not look the same these days but he was not any less peculiar. Alastor had, admittedly, always wanted to know how he worked – to see his insides, pull him apart piece by piece, see what was organic, what was not. What made a picture box tick ? Did they each share a heart, or would there be none to find ?

Alas, it would be such a shame to break his favorite toy. So, this would do. Exploration by mouth was interesting enough. Corporeal lips to bite and pull blood from, a tongue, teeth . . .

He pants into the minimal space between their faces as they briefly separate, lips curling into a teeth-bared grin at the way his name is breathed from Vox's barely parted lips.

The desperation is . . . something. Cute certainly isn't the word for it. Flattering ? Pathetic ? A pitchy noise of surprise catches in his throat as claws find themselves embedded in his hips, wrenching himself from Vox's mouth to lave a tongue at his throat.

Where he meanly bites down until he tastes the copper tang of blood filling his mouth.

The dry mockery is met with a little scoff, a distracted and dismissive sound. Under different circumstances, that sort of jab would have started a round of bickering, with Vox pointing out how Alastor's jokes and humour in general are even shittier than his most of the time. It's just who they are, how they normally ate with each other. Nothing is given up without a fight between them.

However, there's nothing normal about what's happening right now. The Radio Demon could have insulted him in any way, stuck his claws into any of his metaphorical wounds as deep as they can go, and he would have hardly noticed. Nothing of what came out of his rival's mouth can matter more than his current actions.

The way he's adjusting his body to allow Vox closer. Those hands holding his screen, without malice or ill intentions. How their frequencies mix, tuning in on each other, intertwining as if they were meant to belong on the same wavelength. The teasing tickling of electricity causing playful shivers to run along his limbs.

How can his drunk mind fear rejection when he's being so eagerly welcomed in?

Oh, my silly little picture box.

The Media Demon finds himself smirking more wildly at the admonition, barely holding back a chuckle at the pet name. He's so much more than a "walking picture box" nowadays, but on one thing the other Overlord is right, even if Vox would sooner gut himself with angelic steel than admit it.

He is Alastor's, whether he likes it or not, whether his rival wants him or not. He has been for years, and it has never changed. It's as set in stone as their eternal damnation.

Each and every of his thoughts glitches and freezes, scrambled by the tidal wave of static that crashes into them when their mouths meet once more. His fans whirl faster, electricity rushes more quickly along his cables, and all that's left is the Radio Demon. His touch, his taste, his warmth. The thrumming of his electromagnetic waves.

In the blink of an eye, Vox is lost, and j honestly wishes to never be found again, if it means that they can stay there, like this, forevermore.

"...Oh, ҉A҉҉L҉҉A҉҉S҉҉T҉҉O҉҉R҉," he mumbles without even realising it, the moment the break away, just barely, to catch a breath.

Had he been in a sounder mind, he would have been grateful for how his lips seek out his rival's immediately after, preventing him from saying more, from voicing things he would have regretted dearly. Maybe he will be, later. For now, he just dives back into the hungry kiss, shamelessly desperate, hands squeezing the other's hips as he presses their bodies as close as they can physically get.

Even in his intoxicated state, he knows better than to get too excited, even if the sight of those antlers stretching out and the distortion of that voice have ignited a little spark in his guts. A guy can dream, can't he? And he is definitely going to have plenty of dreams and day dreams about this for weeks to no end.

The temptation to say something is strong, but he holds it back. Alastor is so sure he has this in the bag and he's hellbent on proving him wrong. So he'll do what he said, keep kissing and tasting him over and over, until the Radio Demon forces them to separate. Or, at least, tries to.

[mariasont]

hi!!!!

I'm soooo in love your work. bimbo!assistantreader wil always have a special place in my heart!!!

Now i have this of idea that i think can work for either aaron or spencer, but basically bau!reader who kind of always wears the same type of outfit in the field that's always really modest. Buttttt when they kind of like "know" it's just going to be a paperwork day she likes to were skirts... short skirts and Aaron/Spencer are just feral for them...

Can either be fluff of smut... I trust you indefinitely xxx

Short Skirt, Long Day - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi hiiiiiii!!! ugh thank u sm i kinda took this an interesting route so let me know what you think!!!! im also heavily thinking about writing a smutty pt 2 for this but id love to hear everyone’s opinions

masterlist

pairings: perv!aaronhotchner x bau!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, suggestive content, aaron being a straight PERV!!! (im into idk man), aaron imagining scenarios he didn’t shouldn’t at work, idk this is quite different from my usual postings but i kinda fuck with it

wc: 1.4k

Aaron Hotchner loved paperwork day.

Days like these meant the frenetic energy of ringing phones and rapid footsteps is replaced by the soft drone of air conditioning and the occasional rustle of files being shifted. It’s the kind of morning he appreciated—time to breathe, to recalibrate without the air of an active case breathing down his neck.

But that's not why his pulse is thrumming more than steadily beneath his skin.

Hotch glances at the clock on his desk. It's early—too early for most of the team to be here yet, save for a couple agents whose faces barely register in his peripheral vision. His focus is elsewhere, fixed on a singular thought. Or, rather, on a singular person.

You.

Hotch leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as a shameful type of heat rises to his face. It's a little pathetic, he thinks, how predictable he's become—it's not the work that makes these mornings bearable anymore. It's the anticipation.

The knowledge that, any minute now, the elevator doors will part, and you'll step out, wearing something that will completely dismantle his carefully constructed composure.

Hotch had noticed a pattern (of course he did, that was his instinct honed to a razor's edge). In the field, your outfits are a study in practicality: slacks, fitted jackets, muted tones--professional to a T. Nothing flashy, nothing that would draw undue attention. 

But in the office, when the cases are shelved, and the team is left to wade through stacks of paperwork... it's different.

And it drives him insane.

The image takes root before he can stop it: the curve of your thighs, tantalizingly framed by a skirt that seemed designed to test his limits. The way the fabric molds to you when you move, clinging in places that his eyes are all too quick to follow.

Hotch exhales sharply, clearing his throat as if that could somehow clear his mind. It's unprofessional--he knows this, knows better than to let his thoughts stray so far from where they belong but yet…

The ding of the elevator pulls his attention like a magnet, and there you are. His grip on the pen tightens instinctively, the knuckles blanching as his gaze locks on you.

You're wearing that skirt today--black, fitted, and infuriatingly short, hugging your hips in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination.

He tells himself to look away, and for a second, he manages it--his eyes dropping back to his desk, his breath coming out slow and measured. But that reprieve is fleeting. His gaze flicks back before he can stop it, drawn helplessly to the curve of your waist as you laugh at something one of the other agents say.

You're too good. Too sweet. Too damn oblivious to realize what you're doing to him.

And he knows it's wrong—knows he's toeing a line he has no business approaching. But the way his body reacts to you, the pull you have on him, is beyond reason. It's instinctual, raw, and completely out of his control.

He calls out your name. "Could you come in here for a moment?"

You turn, blinking at him with wide, curious eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to grab something for me," he replies, his voice level, though every syllable felt like a tightly coiled spring. He motions towards the cabinet near the corner of the room. "The Marcus file. Bottom shelf."

He was a terrible terrible man.

Without hesitation, you step toward the cabinet, crouching slightly as you begin to sift through the lower shelf. The moment your body lowers, his eyes start trailing down where the hem of your skirt lifts, just barely revealing the soft curve of where your thighs meet your ass. Then, as you bend further, shifting your weight slightly to reach deeper on the shelf, the fabric stretches taut, clinging to your ass in a way that sends a jolt straight through him.

Hotch's throat feels tight, his breathing shallow as he drinks in the sight before him. You're so close, just feet away, and the angle offers him an unobstructed view. The shape of you, the smooth expanse of skin that's always just out of reach in the field, is right there--so achingly close he feels like his chest might explode.

He knows if you dipped any further, your panties would be on display and he couldn’t help but wonder what color you had on.

You’ve always had a meticulous attention to detail, choices leaning towards deliberate but understated at the same time. In the field, you favored muted tones—greys, blacks, navies. But here in the relative safety of the office you allow a little more personality, more femininity.

His mind turns to your preferences—pink, maybe.

Hotch swallows hard, pulse roaring in his ears. The thought gnaws at him, insistent and unrelenting—he needs to know.

“Careful,” he says, feigning concern. “You might need to check further back on the shelf. Sometimes the files get pushed out of sight.”

You glance over your shoulder at him and he swears he could combust. “Further back?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair to appear casual, though his grip on the armrests were anything but. “Yes.”

You turn back to the cabinet, shifting your weight again as you crouch lower, leaning further to search the back of the shelf. The motion sends the bottom of your skirt riding higher, and for a brief, heart stopping moment, the lace of your panties is on full display.

It was a pink barely there strip of fabric.

His mind betrays him, conjuring images he knows he shouldn't entertain. He imagines his hands on you, running over the curve of his hips, gripping your thighs, sliding that damn skirt higher until there's nothing left to hide. The thought of you like this, pliant and completely unaware of the effect you're having on him, makes his pulse pound in his ears. He wonders what you would do if he were to push those panties to the side and slide a finger in you.

You shift again, leaning deeper into the cabinet as your voice drifts back to him, murmuring something about not seeing it. His jaw locks, teeth pressing together as he fights to maintain control. His fingers dig into the armrests of his chair, the leather creaking faintly beneath the strain. It's a futile effort, though; the pressure building in his chest, his body, is relentless.

The heat pools low in his abdomen, simmering and insistent, a sharp pulse of arousal tightening every muscle in his body. He's painfully hard now, the evidence uncomfortably against his slacks, but he doesn't dare move. His mind a blur of want--what he wants to do to you, what he knows he shouldn't do, and the precarious line he's treading just watching you like this.

The tension in his body seems unbearable, and for a fleeting second, he considers how easy it would be to walk over, to let his hand graze your hip, to tilt your chin up so you'd look at him and see the wreckage you've left in your wake. 

But he doesn't. He can't.

Instead, he forces himself to remain still, staying rooted, the self-restraint biting and bitter. 

"Are you sure it's under here? I still don't see it."

Hotch's lips twitch, the smallest shadow of a smirk threatening to break free on his face. He leans forward, feigning surprise as he picks up the file from the corner of his desk.

"Ah," he says, waving the file. "Looks like it's been right here the whole time."

You straighten abruptly, brushing your hands down your skirt and turning towards him with a soft laugh. "Hotch! So I was practically upside down in that cabinet for nothing!"

He shakes his head, giving a small chuckle to match yours. Not for nothing. The satisfaction still simmers low in his chest, a private indulgence he knows you'll never suspect--the movement was far from wasted.

"My mistake."

"Well, I guess we all have our moments. Let me know if there's anything else you need, okay?"

When the door finally closes behind you, he exhales shakily, the breath spilling out like a confession. Leaning back in his chair, he presses his fingers to his temples, his entire body tense with the effort of restraint. He feels unmoored, like a man balancing on the edge of a precipice, one misstep away from losing everything he’s worked so hard to keep under control.

But for now, he’ll settle for watching, for imagining, for wishing—knowing full well that nothing could ever come of it. And yet, as he glances at the door where you’d just been, a part of him wonders how much longer he can hold out.

It’s going to be an impossibly long day—but the most troubling part of all is how much he’s starting to enjoy the torment.

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @looking1016 @everythinglizzy @sky2nd @alexxavicry @spencerssatchel @candyd1es @storiesofsvu @pleasantgardenwitch @kodzukenmaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spennciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @jstcln @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3 @wondergal2001 @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @estragos @khxna @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @justyourusualash @whimsicalpolitical @kcch-ns @cool-light32 @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @ssamorganhotchner

join my taglist here!

[bearambles]

good girl, officer (hamzah)

words: 1.2k

warnings: piv, dom!hamzah, sub!reader, handcuffs, spit, creampie, bad writing >_<

note: the drought is over. this actually sucks so bad and i wrote it in class but erm!! here!! cop!hamzah got me out of my writing slump soooo i’ll hopefully get to requests soon. also im sorry guys its not copying over the pretty girl fic or i would have reuploaded it by now - i wont stop trying though!!

enjoy!!

cold metal presses into your skin as hamzah secures your hands behind your back. his chest inches behind you, the heat of his breath against your neck. you shiver, a small whimper escaping your lips as the handcuffs click in place and he releases your wrists from his grip.

“stay like that, yeah?” he says, his hands moving to your hips, pushing you back against him.

he’s been needy all day. the video he filmed with martin took so long and he’d been texting you non-stop while you were at work.

i can’t wait to see you baby. can’t wait to use these on you.

<1 image>

you’ve never really considered hamzah to be super dominant, and it isn’t always the case. days like these though, when he pent up and desperate and eager, he takes control. uses you like it’s what you’re made for. you fucking love it.

“i asked you a question baby.”

his grip tightens on your hips, his cock hard against your clothed ass. you’re wearing a flimsy t-shirt, a lace bra, and your shortest sleep shorts. as soon as he started with his horny texts, you changed from regular clothes to these. you knew they wouldn’t be on long.

“i will.” you whisper, your face towards the wall.

he grips your chin and makes you look at him, his thumb caressing your skin softly while his grip remains firm.

“good. you look so pretty, ma.”

he kisses you then, soft and sweet, before pulling away to undo his belt. you watch as his pants meet the ground and his cock springs from his boxers. he’s so fucking thick.

after a moment though, he looks up to see you staring, and presses your neck back against the wall. your face smushed against the tile, you whimper. he reaches a hand up past your shirt and bra and slowly kneads a nipple in between his finger and his thumb.

“h-hamzah-“

“i said to stay. that means don’t move. you understand that now?”

you nod, and he moves the hand on your tit down to his length. a few strokes in, he has an idea, and moves to shove two fingers in your mouth. you gag slightly at the intrusion, but quickly realize what he wants. your tongue swirls around his fingers, and he watches.

he pushes them a little further back, until you cough and he takes them out. you pant just barely, a string of drool connecting your mouth to his fingertips. covered in spit, he moves his hand down to his cock and pumps it a few times before lining himself up with your hole.

your shorts are still on and he tugs them down with one hand. you whine and your hands go to reach for the wall, but they’re still together. he notices and reaches his free hand up to grab your wrists and bring them back down behind the small of your back.

“stop being a fucking brat.” he grins in your ear before moving his hand back down to your panties and pulling them aside. without warning, he pushes into you.

“fuck! hamzah-“

“shhhhh i know ma.”

both hands gripping your hips, he slams into you. his cock is practically ripping you in half, but it hurts so good. you whine and his mouth is next to your ear, whispering comforts that contrast his rough movements.

“so good baby. so good.” he’s just word vomiting, you know, but his words add to the growing knot in your stomach. “you’re so fucking perfect.”

even when he tries to be tough and dominant, he can’t help but praise his baby. you look so pretty, face smushed against the wall, your hair messy and makeup starting to run as your eyes water from pleasure. your pussy so fucking warm he thinks he’s gonna die.

the way you take him so well, your body fitting his like it’s what you were made to do. it felt like that in this moment. nothing could feel better than the thick of his cock hitting you deep. his hips smack against your ass as he fucks you.

“please hamzah, please.” your hands start to wriggle in their restraint, desperate to play with your clit. from the moment he put the cuffs on, you were soaked. it was starting to hurt to keep ignoring it.

“what do you need? you want me to slow down?” he asks, the second sentence coming with a halter in his thrusts and his tone a little lighter.

you shake your head and start to move your hips back against him, trying to bring back the pace he’d set.

“noooo…” you whine, and he pulls away completely.

he laughs, just taking in the image of you pressed against a wall, hands cuffed behind your back, crying for more dick.

“jesus christ. you’re that desperate huh?”

he takes the break in movement to reach down and spread your legs with his hands. he watches your core throb, pulsing around nothing, dripping slick. he laughs again, before taking two fingers and shoving them deep.

“oh my god-“ you whimper, jolting in surprise.

he keeps finger fucking you like this for a while, just watching your cunt take his fingers in like they belong there. gripping them both and dripping when you take them out.

when his thumb grazes your clit, you moan. he raises an eyebrow.

“that’s what you wanted, huh?”

you nod furiously.

“use your words.”

“yes. yes, please hamzah.”

“good girl.”

his thumb stays pressed against your clit while his fingers retract, replaced by his cock. the combination is almost too much. he’s back to the tough pace he started with, this time his fingers pawing at your clit.

“i’m so close, fuck, i’m sorry-“ he whines

“s’okay, i am too, just cum, just cum hamzah i love you i love you, fuck-“

he does.

he doesn’t pull out either, knowing you’re on birth control (and also extremely pussy drunk). In fact, he presses the deepest into you when he cums, his seed so deep inside of you that when he pulls out a minute later, it takes a moment for anything to even appear.

your orgasm crashes over you in waves and you can feel your cunt pulsing around him. he feels so good, you could cry.

he watches as his cum leaks from your cunt and his hand flies to his hair. he’s panting.

“jesus. oh my god. that was like- i’ve never cum so hard in my life.”

you giggle. in all fairness, you hadn’t fucked in a week. you both needed it bad.

“you liked being in control, huh?”

he shrugs.

“i hope i wasn’t too much. you can always say stop, you don’t have to-“

“hamzah-“

“no i mean it. like, i know we have the safe word and stuff but even if you just say stop i will and i don’t want you to-“

“hamzah, i know-“

“i know you know but i was just worried i was being too mean or something because i want to turn you on but i also-“

“hamzah can you please uncuff me!”

he stares and you and presses his eyes shut for a moment, laughing softly.

“i’m sorry. yeah. i’m an idiot.”

-

i hope you guys enjoyed !

[goldenstring6123]

Sylus: Seething Red

Warning: 3.9K words. Angst. Little comfort. Cursing! Lots of it. Suggestive ending, for 16+ only, Plot heavy. Emotional & Dramatic. If you can't stomach arguments and fighting, I don't suggest reading this. Reader is not the MC but works as a hunter.

Author's note: This was a bit delayed because I had to re-write this three times :> warning, I proofread this once but I was lacking sleep soooo...

You burned with rage.

Seething, searing the skin of your entire being.

You revved your motorcycle faster, traversing through the pitch-black rainy night in the N109 zone. The fog was severe compared to the city, enough to obstruct the view of the street. Nonetheless, you continued driving, gritting your teeth at the thought of your lover, Sylus.

The towering building of Sylus' base remained void of any form of life, shrouded in a hazy mist of smoke and fog. Not even crows lingered about the premises.

You slammed the door open and met the twins, Luke and Kieran, one reading a book and the other looking at his phone. There was no time to spare them each a hello; you trudged through the godforsaken hallway and threw open Sylus' door.

There, the aforementioned man sat on his couch, staring at the flickering flame of his fireplace, his phone in your hand. "I recall telling you not to leave." The distaste was on his tongue, especially at the photograph of you in the airport with your teammates.

Your nails dug into the ball of your palm, almost threatening it to bleed. Any ounce of reasonable patience in you was slowly evaporating. The urge to talk in a calm manner had long been gone. You gritted your teeth while you took another step closer. "And who are you to make that decision?!"

Jenna gave you an opportunity to showcase your leadership because she knows you wanted a promotion. She offered you three projects to lead alongside her, and you chose a clean-up operation on Almus Island, an island infested with mutant Wanderers.

There was a lot of effort put into this, and you couldn't afford any mishap. You trained hard for this, coordinating with the data team and your own to create plans and backups in case anything went haywire.

It was one of the most dangerous tasks you had to do in your entire career—One that deserved the promotion you most certainly craved. Everything was leading up to that moment you boarded the jet.

That was three hours ago. The security guards stopped you and prevented you from leaving, stating that there was something wrong with your pass. You had no clue what they were talking about, but whatever it was, it prevented you from boarding the jet.

The team was under pressure. Jenna didn't know what to do as well. No matter what you did, no matter what papers you showed, they just didn't let you through. Time-bound, Jenna had no choice but to order you to go back to the headquarters and supervise from there.

That was a complete blow to your ego. After all that preparation, training, and debriefing, you wound up stuck inside the office instead of out there doing your job, which accompanied your title.

The recent promotion you got was an opportunity to ascend the corporate ladder, but with Sylus' actions, you looked nothing more like a fool. You had no idea why Jenna advised you to just head back to the office after security denied your access to the jet, but the sight of Mephisto perched on the flight display helped you put two and two together.

The shame, embarrassment, and look of pity from your peers choked you out of your logical thinking. They whispered against one another, asking why you were holding up the mission.

For once, you thought so little of yourself. Their stares were like fire ants on your skin, stinging you to your very being.

"I talked to you about this before, sweetie. I explicitly warned you about leaving the project for your own safety," Sylus said. The tone in his voice was that of when he was calm and collected, unbothered by the fiery rage that was drowning your mind. "Almus Island is dangerous because it was previously my turf, and I'm not joking when I say that place is a hellhole—it was abandoned for a reason."

"That's not an excuse for you to meddle in my affairs! I was already at the airport, I was with my team ready to leave, and then I found out I can't leave the country because of some shit you pulled?!"

"I warned you to heed my words," he said matter-of-factly. Every word that comes out of his mouth is like a landmine to trigger your emotions. You had the urge to cry, but you fought the pinpricks in your eyes. "I told you to drop off that project and do something else." His words came out smooth, almost matter-of-factly, and you hated it.

Sylus was the type of man to not give in on his actions, and tonight was the time when you had to painfully realize that.

"Listen to me, you piece of fuck—" You hissed through your teeth and strode angrily to him. "—What I do for work doesn't concern you unless Onychinus is involved. I deliberately chose to lead this project instead of the other offered to me because I don't want to be after your neck—God forbid I don't stand a chance against your organization."

Sylus threw his phone onto the couch, visibly irked at your words. "And I did what I did because I don't want you to end up dead," Sylus retorted.

"Are you too much of an idiot to not comprehend that?!" His red eyes glowed, fury flickering behind them. "I requested for you to not leave because I know for a fact you're going to end up injured when you come back, worse, you'd end up as a corpse."

Stupid. His reasoning is pure and utter stupid. Sylus? Scared of losing you? Bullshit. That flawed and shallow reason did nothing to soothe the fire in your heart. You didn't know what was powering your anger.

Was it the shame that you were so eager to leave but couldn't?

Was it the fact that Sylus thinks you're weak?

That he has an overwhelming amount of power against you?

Was it the fact that Jenna had high expectations, but you had made a fool of yourself in front of your peers?

It was all of it.

"That's a part of the job! What I did before you and I met is the same, I fight, and I get injured—Why are you speaking like I'm some sort of newbie in the field? You've seen me in action multiple times, I even saved your ass once!"

"I did what I did because I need to, and I'll do it all over again no matter how many times you berate me. You are staying in this city—you can take whatever project you want, you can go after the organization for all I care, and I'd be more than willing to let you shoot me, but you are not going to that island."

"Fuck! Why are you so insistent?! Did you think that just because you're powerful and shit, you get to toss me around like your fucking lackey?

Do you think so little of me? When I chose you, I did not fucking sign up to be dragged around by your whims—I don't give two fucks why and how you did it, but you don't get to meddle in my affairs," you yelled at him. You didn't care who heard you. You didn't even care about anything anymore.

"You don't get to have a choice."

A loud, ear-piercing crash reverberated in his room.

Before he could say anything else, you picked up the nearest object beside you, a small statuette, and lunged it at him. The once solid form is now nothing more than debris of glass. It crashed against the wall behind his head, the shards flying to cut his cheek.

"Well fuck me, since when did I ever have one with you? The last choice I made was choosing you, and it went to shit from there. I follow every one of your fucking whims, but when I requested for you to not do shit, you turn a deaf ear." You didn't know what you were saying. The words were flowing out of your mouth uncontrollably, previous thoughts and buried resentment now at the forefront of your thoughts.

Silence befalls the room, and you can only hear the harsh thumps of your heartbeat. Beneath the silver-haired man's facade was a clear look of disbelief. Sylus laughed dryly at your words. He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut, no longer able to hide his displeasure. "So you're turning this about me?"

"Sweetie," he flicked his hand, and the black and crimson mist wrapped around you, thwarting you closer to him.

"I prevented you from leaving the country because I don't want your death on my hands. I don't wish for you to get injured, but I tolerated seeing you hospital-bound every other month. You are my partner, and I want what's best for you. I don't want you dying on some godforsaken island just because it's your job."

His EVOL released you, but his long and hard fingers grabbed ahold of your face too roughly. "I did it because I adore you. Because you're my lover," he hissed. Sylus pressed your face closer together, "I did it to protect you."

His nails dug into your cheek, and you winced, clawing it off. "I don't want your protection. I never needed it in the first place," you said through clenched teeth.

"Get this through your fucking head. No matter how powerful you are and no matter what you are to me, whether I do dangerous jobs is not up to you," you dug a finger into his chest. "My life is not in your hands. It never will be."

You pulled away from him and stepped back. "I'm following after them. You better not pull that shit again."

Sylus let out a gruff sigh, drowning in debilitation. His long and slender legs made their way to where you were, and to your dismay, he wrapped a hand around your dainty wrist before dragging you faster out of his room.

A flash of thunder momentarily illuminated the hall, and as you landed on the ground, Sylus said one thing:

"You're not going anywhere."

The door slammed shut right in front of your face.

---

You couldn't do anything. You were helpless against Sylus' orders, and he kept his word: You weren't allowed to leave the country.

As much as you wanted to wallow in self-pity and anger, you had a job to do.

The office was quiet, especially in your division, with you and another co-worker coordinating the mission through the telecommunication room. The soles of your feet were chafed from all the walking, and your throat was dry from distributing orders to all of your team members.

You could only observe the condition of the island through the lenses in their suit. It was pure chaos, and more than half of the team were injured. Thankfully, there were no deaths.

Two weeks had gone by in a blur, and you were navigating through the exhaustion and disappointment. The team, comprising the best of the best, had not made nearly half of the progress expected—they were tasked to retreat for the time being.

Nights were spent in the company's living quarters, and you thrived off canteen food to the point where it tasted bland. You even caught a fever, but you brushed it off with cold medicine.

What was ironic was despite the hectic schedule, every little time in between your duties, you glanced at your phone.

Ever since that night, there has not been a single text message from Sylus. You didn't have the strength to barge into his room, and there was no point either; there was no one left in the base.

The team got back, and there was chaos once more, distracting you for the next week. Most were in and out of the hospital, asking for leaves and days off to recuperate. The damages to your teammates were bigger than what you anticipated, so much so that the daily workforce dwindled by a lot.

Adding to the office workload was the patrol duty and killing off wanderers.

Needless to say, by the time you arrived home, there was almost no time to think. Your head hit the pillow, temples aching to the rhythm of your sore back; yet even then, you could only think of Sylus. The harshness of your words was slowly eating you alive, and what was worse was that you couldn't even remember what he had said.

Your phone lit up to notify you of your schedule tomorrow. Instead, you opened the messaging app and clicked on Sylus' profile.

He had seen the message but did not respond.

Again, he had seen the message.

You bit your lip, typing the letters carefully and weighing your own words. You closed your eyes and pressed send before closing your phone. You were too tired to think about what you said, and with a heavy heart, you drifted off to sleep.

----

The presence of the man behind you was too overwhelming. It was overwhelming to the point where it was enough to stir you in your sleep—the only temporary escape you could have.

It didn't sink in at first. The fact that you weren't in your room. It was too dark and somber for it to be your apartment bedroom; the comfort of the tiny plushies on your desk was gone. Instead, it was the sight of an unused fireplace and the velvet and gold couch.

The satins were rough to your liking and had a scent of sandalwood and citrus. Definitely different from the rose scent you were accustomed to.

Sylus's bedroom. That's where you were. Anxiety pitted at the bottom of your stomach upon this realization; he was nowhere near your line of sight, but the chill on your back was enough of a guide. You turned behind you, eyes adjusting to the blaring city lights displayed outside of his massive windows.

His figure was recognizable, but as bright as the city lights were, you couldn't see any of his facial features.

You opened your lips to speak, yet no words came out of your mouth, and not a coherent thread of thought manifested in your head. There was no point in asking why he brought you back to his base. And as much as you wanted to speak to him, you didn't. The urge subsided quickly, and a second later, the urge to leave took its place.

You took off from the bed, adjusting the sleeve of your nightwear. Your legs were light and quiet as they attempted to make their way to the other half of the room where the exit was. You had no clue how you were going to go home in your state, but it was a lesser feeling than the urge to leave Sylus again.

"The message you sent," he spoke, his hands nudging in your way. "I'm assuming you're going to take it back?" It was as if the floor had become soil: stems of his black and crimson smoke emerged like vines, entangling your feet into their current position.

You kept your mouth shut.

His figure turned into smoke, which accumulated in front of you. "Sweetie," like a month ago, he grabbed a hold of your jaw. "I asked you a question."

"I'm sorry for getting mad at you."

"Whether you're forgiven or not doesn't matter. The last message you sent—do you mean it?"

You didn't, no. That was sent out of impulse, yet with Sylus ghosting you for almost a month, it was almost like he was just waiting for you to say it. What were you supposed to think? He could've thrown you away and found someone else by then.

"I don't know," you whispered.

"You don't know?" he repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"I don't know. You didn't talk to me for a month, and you left the headquarters—I had no way to contact you. What else would I think?" You couldn't look him in the eye, but if you could've seen it, his eyes flickered to softness.

Sylus sighed and set your foot free. The harsh grasp on your face softened until he eventually had to let go.

"I was on Almus Island, and so were the twins."

"Did you—"

"Hurt your teammates? No." He walked over to his couch and ignited a matchstick. He threw it onto the fireplace, and the image of the room became brighter. Only then did you realize your lover's state.

You scurried over to him, fixated on the bandage that wrapped around his ribs and the dried patches of blood on his biceps.

"What did you do?"

"I personally helped with the clean-up." He leaned back on the couch, a scowl on his face when an ache came from his wounds. His back carefully pressed against the velvet cushion, and relief overcame him. "I destroyed the protofield which was left open."

A protofield? You thought. What protofield? There was never a portal indicated in the debriefing. Sure, there was an underground abandoned base, which most likely belonged to Onychinus. Still, they were all bunkers and storage rooms filled with lousy protocores.

"There are a lot of questions in your head right now, but what's important is I've lessened your workload. Order your team to head back to the island next month and do another clean-up. It won't take more than a week and a half to kill the remaining monsters; as compensation, I'll give you access to the armory—I'm sure the higher-ups would marvel at what's left in there."

You processed his words carefully. It doesn't answer your question about the portal, but if there is one, then when the team heads back, you should add several flux stabilizers with you to avoid risking opening another protofield.

"Now, is that sufficient enough?" Sylus asked.

His words snapped you out of your brief work mode, and you stared at his face, wondering what he meant. "Enough for what?"

"As an apology."

You were speechless. Confusion filled your mind with his words. This man was unpredictable, but you were certainly sure he'd rather say sorry and move on than go through all that trouble and get injured in the process. You weren't sure if you were supposed to act all caring about his wounds or act bravely and accept his apology and go back to bed.

"Am I allowed to leave the country?" Sylus' eyes met yours at this question, but you didn't blink.

He raised his eyebrow again. "Yes, you are. I won't do that again."

"Good, you're forgiven." You eased your shoulders and turned on your heel to his closet. You entered the door and took off some jacket and some loose sweatpants of his. "Get yourself patched up by a doctor; I'm going home."

The thudding of his footsteps reverberated behind you, and before you could open the door, his big hand blocked the way. You turned back and spotted him clutching his side with a frown on his face. "Where are you going?"

"Back home," you replied matter-of-factly.

"And you're not going to address your text?"

Ah, for a moment, you forgot about that. Your break-up text. He apologized for the flight incident but never for abandoning you for a month; maybe you can take advantage of this for a little while longer.

Your fingers tapped on his hand and pushed the door closed. Your gesture was enough for him to let go and step back in the hope that you'd do something. You twisted the doorknob and pulled it open, one last peek at him.

"Get some rest."

You shut the door and ran down the hallway—instead of your home, like you said, you took one of Sylus' motorcycles and drove to the headquarters.

---

Three days had passed since then, and you really weren't that concerned with Sylus. Luke and Kieran say he's doing fine despite constantly being on edge almost every day. You, on the other hand, were busy planning for the next clean-up—hopefully, a more successful one thanks to Sylus' help.

You hopped out of the shower, but a sense of dread greeted your neck. You stopped before taking another step. Your eyes searched for the source; it wasn't from the locked door or the laptop on the kitchen desk. Your bedroom door, on the other hand…

From behind the vase near the entrance, you pulled out a small gun, but before you could even unlock it, the tall, familiar figure popped out of the bedroom, in his grasp a bouquet of roses. You froze, and so did he.

You stared at each other before he looked at your hand in disappointment.

"You really have to fix that habit of yours." The habit pertains to you constantly pointing a gun at him.

"First, you tamper with my passport, and you kidnap me while I'm asleep, and now you're breaking and entering?" You released the lock on the gun and placed it where it was, finally placing a hand on your hip. Beads of water dripped from your hair onto your bare shoulders, rolling down to your chest and finally to the towel.

"I wouldn't need to do this if you answered my question from the very beginning."

You don't want to deal with him right now. Not when I'm half-naked.

"Wait for me in the living room."

My movements weaved around him, and he just quietly followed my figure. His footsteps were quiet, but he was following me into the room—you had to stop him before he became an audience to you in the nude, but you didn't even get the chance to turn around.

Sylus picked you up, and you yelped from the sudden movement. You held on to the tuck of your towel as he threw you onto your own bed like he would before.

"You—I told you to wait!"

"I am not a patient man, sweetie."

The ends of the towel parted from each other, exposing a bit of your lower abdomen. His eyes landed on that specific place as well. You lifted your foot slightly and stretched it so that it could reach his chest, preventing him from taking a step further.

"Sylus. Wait."

Sylus backed off at your words like a dog. You fixed yourself back up and crossed your legs.

"No. I didn't mean that text. Not anymore, at least." To that, it was a sign for him to come closer. You watched him approach your body, looking down at you with a finger stroking the side of your face. "Just… don't ghost me like that. You made me think that you replaced me."

"Replaced you?" he questioned. "Is that how you think of me?" He almost looked offended.

"I wouldn't put it past you, considering the things I said."

He hummed and tilted your head upward so he could get a good look at your face. "I may be a shady person, but I'm certainly not a womanizer, sweetie. I thought you had more faith in me."

"Sorry," you replied.

Sylus got down on his knees and kissed your own, his calloused fingers savoring the soft touch of your calves. The sweet musk of vanilla wafted under his nose, almost reeling him in. You gazed at him intently, knowing where this was about to go.

Author footnotes: Yay I finally get to post this. I had a hard time writing this because I wanted it to be dynamic but at the same time I didn't want to write a full blown fic with an over complex back story. I had to re-write the entire thing until i felt somewhat satisfied.

Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost | Dividers by me!

[whorefordean]

Can you write some Dean Winchester head canons, preferably smutty ones if you’re up to it ☺️

for how often i think about being absolutely annihilated by this man, this took entirely too long to write. my apologies.

anywho... these are all actually factual because i say so!

p.s i apologize for this being so short :/

18+ mdni below the cut

- i stand by the fact that if you don't go on a hunt with dean, this man is sending dick pics or constantly asking you for nudes. usually, you send them just because it's fun, but sometimes you like to tease dean about it.

"but sweetheart, there's no telling how long this case is gonna take," he'll whine over the phone when sam leaves the room for a few hours to go interview a witness or something.

"dean, it's been less than twenty-four hours. i think you'll survive."

"what if i die from blue balls?"

"goodbye, dean."

"wait-" click. dean pouts when you end the call. it doesn't last long though because his phone chimes a few minutes later with a photo from you, followed by a text. "don't die on me."

he one thousand percent sends you a picture a few minutes later of his cum covered hand and cock.

————

-maybe i'm projecting but i think dean gets into the habit of waking you up in the middle of the night because he wakes up horny, like he has a wet dream about you, and bless his heart, he tries so hard to not wake you up. so he starts listing monsters in his head, and analyzes the lyrics to his favorite song. man even tries counting sheep just to distract himself.

but it's no use. so instead, dean starts rubbing your arm softly, cooing your name in an effort to wake you up. you might stir a little, just to get closer to him, but dean hisses when you toss your leg over his waist, brushing against his dick.

he's gripping your thigh tight and then he's biting down lightly on your shoulder, pulling you from your sleep. he almost feels bad for waking you up when you pout at him, but you shift against his cock again, making him groan as all his empathy is flying out the window.

"what's wrong, dean?" you're asking innocently while sitting up, still not having noticed his situation.

"fuck, sweetheart," he grunts in your ear. you look so confused but so pretty as dean stares up at you. before you can breathe he's shoving his lips onto yours and pulling you to sit on his lap. you moan when you feel his cock rubbing against your clothed pussy.

"fuck, dean, again?" you question, choking on a moan. it's the third time this week that he's woken you up like this.

"it's a wasted dream if it's not about me being buried deep inside you," he smirks proudly.

————

- dean finds out that you like listening to audio porn (in badjhur we trust) so he records some for you. finds out what your favorite tags are somehow and incorporates those into it. (the tongue clicks 🫣)

- dean is so used to slapping your ass at home that he will do it constantly in public. he doesn’t even smirk about it like he does at home. just stares at you with wide im sorry eyes while you glare at him with that so help me god look.

- dean is a munch. will spend all day buried between your thighs just because he can. you’re begging him to stop. whining bc it’s too much and he’s just all heavy breathing as he stares up at you. sweetheart please, i missed you. he’ll give the same excuse every time, even though he’s only been gone for maybe an hour to do a beer run.

- dean is soooo into face sitting. he’s definitely the type that will force you to actually sit because he does take personal offense if you hover.

- he's so into free use. you can't tell me different. getting to use and play with his sweetheart whenever he wants? say less.

- also he loves to cum inside you and make you cockwarm him after so none of it leaks out

-oh my god. he burns you a cd called "sexy time with my sweetheart." and now he refuses to listen to any of the songs on it outside of the bedroom because he's conditioned to get hard when he hears them.