#Exploratory action

[impossible-rat-babies]

okay part of the early blm quests for kiet are about sealing the void gate, but also about figuring out how to make these spells and his aether…work. with the thaumaturges the spells would end up spiraling into unsafe practices. fire spells overheating and draining her—ice spells leaving her muscles pulled taut and painful. but the gem of shatotto allows the high fluxes of aether to steady by means of a catalyst and focus. so kiet’s spells are highly destructive still, but it doesn’t come at the cost of their body

[hislittleraincloud]

Jenna’s fandom on Twitter is honestly the worst. They’re completely obsessed with the idea of Jenna being a lesbian, and some of them—whether openly or subtly—ship her with Emma. Given how much Jenna’s PR team focuses on keeping her fans happy, I wouldn’t be surprised if they end up fueling these fantasies while promoting Season 2

And the bitches here and on TikTok aren't completely obsessed with the idea that she's a lesbian? And ofc the PR teams are frightfully aware of all of that.

I'm just waiting for this day for the Jennanites, since it's already happening thickly for other actresses (what the fuck happened to Millennials and Z females...how did we end up here)

It was honestly not fucking like this before

[ahungeringknife]

Just as a reminder you can write entire pieces of JUST exploratory and speculation for your own WIP or story and they don't have to go anywhere. You are not beholden to a character arc or a rising and falling action with a conclusion. Sometimes you just wanna write a side scene with some characters doing some things. Or you need to just need to write what would amount to an academic paper about a certain landscape in your story. Like that's also fine.

Also these things don't need endings. When you finish them they're done. Even if it's in the 'middle' of something. You got out the part you wanted and now you're done and you satisfied the plot bunny demanding blood sacrifice of you writing that specific scene right now. Congrats you're done now.

Don't let the editor in your mind steal your joy of writing your silly little story. The mind editor is the thief of joy.

[lila-lou]

✨Motel nights✨

Summary: After weeks of relentless hunting and stolen glances, Dean couldn’t wait any longer. The moment Sam drifted into a deep sleep after the last hunt, Dean seized the chance, his need for you overwhelming any restraint.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Fluff

Word Count: 2964

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

The motel room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The heavy curtains blocked out most of the neon lights from outside, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. The hum of the air conditioner provided a steady background noise, blending seamlessly with the occasional rustle from the old, threadbare blanket on the bed.

You lay on the bed next to Dean, your head resting on his chest. His arm was wrapped around you, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your back. The familiar scent of leather and soap filled your senses, a comforting mix that was undeniably Dean.

“It’s quiet”, Dean murmured, his voice a low rumble in the stillness. “Too quiet”.

You glanced over at Sam, sprawled out on the couch. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his face relaxed in sleep. “He’s out cold”, you whispered, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Dean’s fingers moved to your shoulder, his touch warm and gentle. “Yeah, guess we wore him out with that last hunt”.

You shifted slightly, turning to face Dean more fully. The look in his eyes was soft, filled with a tenderness that he rarely showed to anyone else. His free hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “You okay?”, he asked, his gaze searching yours.

“I’m fine”, you replied, leaning into his touch. “Just… tired”.

Dean’s eyes softened with understanding, but there was a flicker of something deeper, something more intense. “Yeah, I get that”. he said softly, his voice barely more than a murmur. His hand remained on your cheek for a moment longer, his thumb gently caressing your skin.

As you both settled into a more comfortable position, Dean’s hand drifted slowly down from your cheek. He let his fingers trace a gentle path along the curve of your shoulder and down your arm.

His hand continued its journey, moving with a tender deliberation until it rested at the base of your back. He paused there, his fingers splayed out, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his palm. The touch was soft but firm, a reassuring presence.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Dean’s hand began to explore further. His fingers glided across your lower back, tracing the curve of your hips. The movement was gentle, almost exploratory, as if he were savoring the sensation of your skin under his touch.

As his hand moved lower, it finally reached the curve of your ass. His touch was feather-light at first, his fingers brushing over the fabric of your pants. The sensation was both familiar and exhilarating, a mix of tenderness and desire.

Dean’s hand lingered there, his fingers lightly grazing the curve of your ass. His touch was careful, almost reverent.

You could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric, a soft pressure that made you shiver with a mix of pleasure and anticipation.

He shifted slightly, his body moving closer to yours as his hand continued its gentle exploration. His fingers moved in slow, deliberate strokes, the caress becoming more intimate. You could feel his breath against your ear, warm and steady, as he leaned in closer.

As Dean shifted, pressing you more firmly against him, you could feel the solid, unmistakable pressure of his erection pressing into your thigh. The sensation was both surprising and exhilarating, heightening the intimacy of the moment.

Dean’s breath grew heavier, mingling with yours as he moved closer. His hand, still resting on your ass, continued its slow, affectionate caress.

The feel of him against you, combined with the gentle touches of his hand, made your pulse quicken. You could sense the urgency beneath his carefully measured actions, the deep desire he felt.

Dean’s lips wandered over your jaw, placing soft, lingering kisses along the way. He moved down to your neck, the heat of his breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. Each kiss was tender yet filled with a deep, simmering desire that made your heart race.

As his lips trailed lower, Dean’s hand slid from your ass to your waist, then up your side. His fingers found the buttons of the flannel shirt you were wearing—his shirt, which hung loosely on your frame. With practiced ease, he began to unbutton it, his movements slow.

You let out a soft gasp as his lips found a sensitive spot on your neck, just below your ear. “Dean”, you whispered, the word escaping your lips between breaths.

He responded with a low, rumbling murmur, the sound vibrating against your skin. His fingers deftly worked their way down the shirt, each button revealing more of your skin to the cool air of the room and the warmth of his touch.

When the last button was undone, Dean gently pushed the fabric aside, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of your naked breasts. He paused for a moment, his gaze intense, before his lips resumed their journey, kissing along your collarbone and down to your chest.

His hand moved to cup one of your breasts, his touch tender yet possessive. You could feel the roughness of his palm against your sensitive skin, a stark contrast that sent waves of pleasure through you. He brushed his thumb over your nipple, eliciting another soft gasp from you.

Dean’s lips followed the path of his hand, kissing the swell of your breast before taking your nipple into his mouth. He sucked gently, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, making you arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Dean”, you breathed again.

His lips continued to work their way across your chest, each kiss more insistent than the last. His free hand slid around to the small of your back, pulling you even closer against him.

You let out another soft gasp, your fingers gripping his hair as his mouth moved to your other breast, giving it the same loving attention. The sensations were overwhelming, a perfect blend of tenderness and desire that left you trembling.

“Dean”, you whispered, your voice shaky. “We can’t… what about Sam?”.

Dean paused, his mouth just inches from your skin. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with a fierce, unwavering determination. “I don’t care”, he said softly, his voice a deep rumble. “We need this. I need this. It’s been too long”.

His words sent a thrill through you, the intensity of his desire matched by your own. The weeks of stolen glances and brief touches had left you both yearning for more, the need for each other building to an almost unbearable level.

Dean’s lips found yours again, his kiss hungry and demanding. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer, pressing you against him.

You melted into the kiss, your own desire overcoming any lingering hesitation. The feel of his body against yours, the warmth of his hands, and the insistent pressure of his lips all combined to create a heady mix of sensations that left you breathless.

Dean’s hand slid down your side, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants. He tugged gently. You lifted your hips slightly, helping him ease the fabric down and off, leaving you bare besides him.

Dean’s eyes never left yours as he pulled down his boxers, the only clothing he wore, revealing his hard length. The sight of him, his desire evident, made your breath catch in your throat. He rolled back onto his side, his strong arms guiding you to follow, positioning your back to face Sam. The move was deliberate, protective, ensuring that if Sam woke up, he would see nothing more than the two of you seemingly cuddling.

With a careful, practiced motion, Dean pulled the threadbare blanket over the both of you, cocooning you in a private, intimate space. The warmth of the blanket and Dean’s body combined to create a comforting heat that wrapped around you, further heightening your sense of connection.

Dean’s hand slid under your thigh, gently lifting it and wrapping it around his hip. The movement brought you even closer, aligning your bodies perfectly. You could feel the heavy, warm weight of his erection resting against your lower abdomen, the sensation sending a thrill of anticipation through you.

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Just relax, baby”, he whispered, his voice a soothing rumble. “I’ve got you”.

You nodded, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as you adjusted to the new closeness. The feel of his erection against you was both comforting and exhilarating, a tangible reminder of his need for you.

Dean’s hand moved to cup your ass, pulling you even closer against him. The intimate pressure of his body against yours, combined with the warmth of his touch, sent waves of pleasure through you. His lips found yours again, the kiss slow and deep, filled with all the love and desire he felt.

You responded in kind, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the solid muscle beneath his skin. The kiss deepened, a shared exploration of passion and tenderness that left you both breathless. Every touch, every caress, was a reminder of the deep bond you shared, a connection that went beyond words.

As the moments passed, Dean’s hand moved between your bodies, his fingers tracing a path along your inner thigh. The touch was both teasing and possessive, a promise of what was to come. He found your core, his fingers slipping between your folds, a soft, deliberate caress that made you gasp into his mouth.

The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and anticipation that left you trembling. His erection pressing more insistently against you, the need in his touch mirrored in your own desire. Dean’s fingers continued their slow, teasing exploration.

You broke the kiss, your breath coming in short, shallow pants as you looked into his eyes. “Dean”, you whispered, your voice filled with longing.

He responded with a low murmur, his lips brushing against yours. “I know, baby. I know”.

With a careful, practiced motion, he shifted his hips, guiding his erection to your entrance. The feel of him pressing against you, combined with the warmth of his body and the intimacy of his touch, was almost too much to bear. You arched into him, your body craving the connection, the closeness.

Dean’s fingers moved to your hip, holding you steady as he slowly eased into you, the sensation a perfect blend of pleasure and intimacy. You could feel every inch of him, the deep, insistent pressure filling you completely.

The initial sensation of Dean entering you was both intense and exquisite, sending a ripple of pleasure through your entire body. He paused for a moment, giving you both a chance to adjust to the intimate connection. His breath was warm against your skin, his forehead resting against yours, eyes locked in a gaze that spoke volumes.

Dean began to move slowly, each thrust measured and deliberate, ensuring that you felt every inch of him. The friction created a delicious pressure that built with each movement, your body responding instinctively to his rhythm. You could feel the tension coiling in your lower abdomen.

Your breaths mingled, creating a symphony of shared desire. The need to stifle your moans became more pressing as the sensations intensified. You bit down gently on Dean’s shoulder, the taste of his skin grounding you even as it heightened the intimacy. The pressure of your bite made him groan softly, the sound vibrating against your ear and sending shivers down your spine.

Dean’s hand, still resting on your hip, moved to cup your ass, his fingers digging in slightly as he pulled you closer with each thrust. The intimacy of the position, your leg draped over his hip, allowed for deeper penetration, each movement driving him further into you. The feeling was overwhelming.

His free hand traced a path up your spine, fingers lightly dancing over your skin. Every touch, every caress was filled with love and reverence, making the experience all the more profound.

Dean’s lips found yours again, capturing them in a deep, searing kiss. His tongue teased yours, mirroring the rhythm of his thrusts, the connection between you growing ever deeper. The kiss muffled your moans, your shared breath hot and desperate.

Dean’s lips moved from yours, trailing down your neck and back up to your ear. His breath was hot and ragged as he whispered, “You feel so good”, the words punctuated by a soft groan.

The pace of his thrusts remained slow, designed to drive you both to the edge of pleasure without rushing the moment.

Dean’s hand slid up from your ass, tangling in your hair. He pulled you closer, his mouth finding yours again in a kiss that was both demanding and tender.

“Fuck”, Dean muttered against your lips, his voice a low, guttural growl. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect”.

His words, combined with the steady rhythm of his thrusts, made you tremble. You bit down on his shoulder again, harder this time, the need to stifle your moans becoming more urgent.

“Fuck, baby”, he groaned, the pleasure evident in his voice. “I need you. I need all of you”.

The intensity of his words matched the growing urgency of his movements. His thrusts became slightly faster, each one more forceful, driving you both closer to the peak of pleasure. The sound of his name fell from your lips, a breathless whisper that mingled with his own low curses and groans.

Dean’s free hand moved between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. The touch was gentle at first, a soft, deliberate caress that sent a jolt of pleasure through you. He circled the sensitive nub with his thumb, each movement perfectly timed with the rhythm of his thrusts.

The combination of his touch and the deep, insistent pressure of his thrusts was overwhelming. You could feel your body tightening, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level.

“That’s it, baby”, he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

The sound of his voice, combined with the intensity of his touch and the deep connection you shared, pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed, the pleasure crashing over you in waves, your moans muffled against his shoulder as you bit down to stifle the sound.

Dean followed moments later, his own release a powerful culmination of the shared pleasure. His body shuddered against yours, his grip on your hip tightening as he emptied himself into you. The feel of him pulsing inside you added another layer to your pleasure, the intimacy of the moment leaving you both breathless.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Dean held you close, his lips pressing soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks. His touch was tender, his movements gentle as he helped you come down from the high of your shared release.

The quiet aftermath was interrupted by the soft sound of movement on the other side of the room. You felt Dean’s body stiffen slightly, his breath becoming more controlled as he listened to the subtle shifts coming from the couch where Sam was sleeping.

Sam stirred, his movements slow and groggy as he started to wake. The blanket pulled snugly over you and Dean, combined with the angle at which you were positioned, meant that from his vantage point, he could only see your back. Still, the awareness that you were caught in a vulnerable moment made your breath hitch.

You pressed your face against Dean’s solid chest, trying to stifle any sounds or movements that might give away what had just happened. Dean's arms tightened around you, his hand moving soothingly up and down your back, as if to comfort you and maintain the illusion of just cuddling.

Sam’s groggy voice cut through the dim light of the room. “Hey, you two awake?”.

Dean, ever quick on his feet, cleared his throat and shifted slightly, his voice low and steady. “Yeah, just… you know, having a moment”.

Sam, still half-asleep, mumbled something incoherent before shifting slightly on the couch, his movements signaling he was trying to settle back into sleep. There was a brief silence, filled only by the faint hum of the air conditioner and the rustle of the blanket.

Dean’s hand continued to soothe your back, his touch gentle and reassuring. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, whispering, “It’s okay. Just stay still for a minute”.

You nodded, your face still buried against his chest. The sound of Sam’s breathing gradually settled into the steady rhythm of sleep once more. The tension in the room eased slightly, though you could still feel the lingering nervous energy from the close call.

Dean's hand gently stroked your hair, his touch tender and calming as he waited for Sam to fully fall back asleep. The warmth of his body against yours and the soft, rhythmic beating of his heart helped ground you, bringing a sense of comfort and reassurance amidst the lingering adrenaline.

After a few more moments, when Sam’s breathing had once again become deep and steady, Dean sighed softly. He shifted slightly, allowing you to pull back just enough to meet his gaze.

“We’re good”, he whispered.

You managed a small, relieved smile, nodding in agreement. As you settled back into his embrace, the blanket cocooning you both, you felt a renewed sense of closeness and love.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

MASTER LIST OF INSTRUMENTAL PLAYLISTS FOR WRITING (OR FOR STUDYING, MAKING ART, ETC.)

I find that the perfect writing playlist can GREATLY enhance the writing experience. Even if it doesn't make your writing "better" (which it can, since it helps writers with visualization, tone, and mood), it can definitely make your writing flow easier!

Personally, words distract me when I'm writing, either by breaking my train of thought or by getting me too into the music so that I'm jamming out to my favorite tunes instead of writing.

Therefore, I've amassed a vast knowledge of instrumental music across a variety of media over a course of many years. Now here I am, deciding to share all of them with you!

Maddy’s Favorite Instrumental Songs

Just like the title says. All of the best pieces of instrumental music I've ever heard, compiled together with no regard for genre. It can be a bit of a whiplash playlist, but some amazing recs in there that I just like listening to in my free time, not just for writing.

Maddy’s Ultimate Instrumental Playlist

A mega compilation of 550+ fantastic instrumental music from a variety of media and genres. Kind of a whiplash playlist if you put it on shuffle, but is a great start for anyone looking to find what kind of instrumental music they like! Playlist Groupings in Order: Independent instrumental songs, live action movies, animated movies, animated tv shows, live action tv shows, video games.

Maddy's Instrumental for Sleep

Some more chill vibe instrumental for people who either A) want to sleep or B) want a relaxed playlist that won't distract you with loud volume and sudden changes in tempo or melody.

MISC PLAYLISTS:

you're a haggard adventurer discovering worlds beyond your wildest dreams

Music to inspire wonder and wanderlust, the kind of feeling you get when you finally reach the end of a mountain hike and see the world stretching out before you.

you're a hero who's just lost everything

Basically the most sad instrumental music I could find. A playlist for grief and revenge.

more beneath the cut :)

you're a cowboy in the great American West

Cowboy instrumental for all of your ambient and writing needs. Or if you just really want to feel like a cowboy.

you're a divine witness

Epic choir music (no English). Most religious, some not, but all kind of have that eerie sacred vibe. I listen to this while writing my book about angels and demons.

you’re a scholar uncovering the secrets of the universe

Great chill study playlist! Has the kind of same exploratory/discovery type feel as the haggard adventurer playlist, but more dark academia.

you’re a villain plotting to take over the world

Villain-coded instrumental! Sinister, dark, and/or unsettling.

you're an academic weapon

HIGH BPM STUDY PLAYLIST! Keeps me focused, hyped, and helps me work faster!

you're an ancient god

Playlist that gives an ancient/eerie vibe. But some ancient gods are merciful- so there are some upbeat songs for wonder and awe!

you're falling in love

Music that encapsulates what I think falling in love feels like. Very beautiful, tender, and uplifting instrumental.

you're fighting the final battle

Intense and epic battle music for all of your fight-scene-writing needs! Good for getting shit done, but isn't necessarily restricted to high BPM like the academic weapon playlist.

you're having a tea party

Refined instrumental for a tea party, including classical, big band, and some miscellaneous goodies.

you're in a chase scene

Music for writing chase scenes. Pretty good hype music, too. Includes soundtracks from classic chase scenes in popular media!

you're in the medieval times

Medieval-sounding music for all of your ambient and/or writing needs.

you’re in your childhood room. the door is open a crack. people talk softly downstairs.

A playlist dedicated to nostalgia, to the feeling of lying in bed with your nightlight on after being too tired to stay awake at your family get-together. Could either make your day or break your heart lmao

you're the happiest you've ever been

Lighthearted instrumental meant to lift your spirits! A playlist dedicated to the joys of the little things.

[ninibeingdelulu]

— headcanons ft. leon kennedy

You met Leon when he was just a rookie cop fresh out of the academy before that nightmarish first day in Raccoon sent both your lives spiraling into chaos and tragedy. Despite the hellish circumstances, you formed an unbreakable bond fueled by sheer survival instinct.

After the dust settled and you both made it out alive by the skin of your teeth, neither of you knew how to resume any semblance of normalcy. The trauma lingered too viscerally beneath the surface, casting long shadows even during peaceful moments.

In Leon you found a kindred spirit haunted by the same waking nightmares - one who understood the primal, animalistic panic of being stalked and eviscerated by unholy bio-weapons. He may have started as just a well-meaning if slightly naive rookie, but the hardened survivor who emerged from Raccoon's ruins began mirroring your own instincts for self-preservation at any cost.

At first, you kept any intimacies strictly physical and detached, both of you desperately chasing oblivion between the sheets. Losing yourselves to sweat-slicked passion became the only way to escape the pervasive horrors replaying on a constant loop in your psyches.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, those ravenous encounters gradually softened around the edges. Harsh, bruising grips eased into caresses. Frantic, selfish movements gave way to tenderness and consideration for the other's pleasure. Until eventually, Leon's usual rigid exterior would crack just enough to expose the frightened, damaged young man beneath after you'd spent yourselves into breathless exhaustion.

It became your mission to bear witness to those fleeting shards of vulnerability, no matter how quickly he'd shutter them away again post-coitus. You ached to remind him - and yourself in turn - that he was still worthy of gentleness despite the serrated-edge of cynicism he armored himself with.

These days, you share a modest apartment together. A sanctuary, however temporary it might be before the next crisis summons one or both of you into the field again. Leon keeps most of his gear meticulously organized near the door for a quick getaway, ever vigilant. But you've introduced small creature comforts amidst the Spartan decor - lush blankets to cocoon you both, scented candles, tasteful art prints to humanize your den.

He no longer startles awake in a cold sweat with a bellow of terror or panic thanks to your steadying presence curled protectively around him. You've learned to wake him with soothing words and the lightest touch through the night terrors lest his primed instincts kick in first. That stoicism remains, of course, but gradually you've helped him find more ease between the lulls of combat.

Leon rarely initiates physical intimacy first unless freshly separated after a deployment when the ache for closeness simply overwhelms him. But once you run exploratory hands over his sculpted body, his restraint crumbles into fevered need to clutch you flush against him. Possessive. Basking in every inch of warm, living flesh without threat of imminent violence.

He's mastered peeling away your clothing with a tantalizing, unhurried lack of urgency born from long experience now. Reveling in the journey and not just the destination, savoring every exposed swell of skin with hushed murmurs and feather-light kisses until you squirm and writhe beneath his doting attention.

While Leon has grown more vocal during these hushed liaisons when his guard erodes completely, he still struggles to outwardly proclaim those three weighted words defining your bond. You don't need them, though. His actions damn sure speak louder - in the protective steel banding his arms around you from behind, the single-minded focus devouring your curves for any sign of injury or imperfection, the ragged whispers muffled against the sweat-dampened nape of your neck each time you both crest with shared euphoria.

Deep down, beneath the chiseled mask of lethal pragmatism branded by combat and unspeakable horror...Leon S. Kennedy remains a romantic at his core, hopelessly tender and relishing the simple sanctuary you represent after years of turmoil. So he holds you close through the nightmares, inhales your comforting scent amidst the choking stench of death, and reminds himself there's still some flicker of humanity worth fighting for time and again.

[nihongonotabi]

About how to say "to try" in Japanese

In English, the verb "to try" can have different connotations depending on the context. Among its various meanings are the following:

Experimenting or testing something: this implies attempting to do something to see what happens, often with an open mind and no guarantee of success. For example, "I'll try this new recipe" suggests that you're testing out the recipe, perhaps for the first time, to see how it turns out.

Attempting with effort: this implies making an effort to accomplish something, even if the outcome is uncertain. For example, "I'll try to finish this project by tomorrow" suggests that you're putting in effort with the hope of succeeding, but there's a possibility you might not.

In Japanese, these nuances of "to try" are expressed using different grammatical forms:

1. ～てみる (te miru) This form is used when you want to "try" something in the sense of experimenting, testing, or doing something for the first time to see the result. You use ～てみる when you're not sure about the outcome and want to see what happens, often in a casual or exploratory sense. For example, you use it when trying a new food or testing a new activity: 初めて寿司を食べてみる (hajimete sushi o tabete miru) - I'll try eating sushi for the first time; テニスをしてみる (tenisu o shite miru) - I'll try playing tennis.

2. ～ようとする (yō to suru) This form is used when you're making an effort to do something, with the understanding that the result is uncertain or difficult to achieve. You use ～ようとする when you're expressing your intention to make an effort, especially in situations where success is not guaranteed. For example, you use it when you're attempting something challenging or you're making an effort with uncertain results: 明日早く起きようとする (ashita hayaku okiyou to suru) - I'll try to wake up early tomorrow; 宿題を時間通りに終わらせようとする (shukudai o jikan dōri ni owaraseyou to suru) - I'll try to finish my homework on time.

In the ～てみる (te miru) form, the use of 見る (miru), meaning "to see," suggests that the speaker is metaphorically "seeing what happens" by performing the action. It implies a lower level of commitment to a specific outcome; the action is undertaken with curiosity or a desire to experience something new. The result is not the primary focus; rather, the process of doing or experiencing something is emphasized. In contrast, the ～ようとする (yō to suru) form uses the volitional form よう (yō) to signal a strong intention or will to carry out the action, and する (suru), meaning "to do," emphasizes the attempt. This form conveys a higher level of personal involvement and responsibility, focusing on the effort required to reach a desired goal. While the outcome is uncertain, the focus is on the attempt itself, with an underlying hope or expectation that the effort might lead to success.

In conclusion, we can say that in English "to try" is a verb that must rely on context or additional modifiers to convey whether the action is exploratory or effortful. On the other hand, Japanese uses separate constructions to encode these nuances directly within the verb forms, reflecting a more fine-grained linguistic approach to expressing different types of attempts.

[accioscarheadthings]

↬ 𝗡𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 - 𝗖𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗼 𝗞𝗮𝗺𝗼 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

summary - in the aftermath of a perilous mission, choso finds himself nursing your injuries, his clinical touches gradually giving way to heated, exploratory caresses as he tends to your wounds.

pairing: sub!choso kamo x fem!reader

warnings - childhood friends to lovers, smut, 18+, fingering, loss of virginity, degradation and praise kink, overstimulation

author's note - posting this after a brief break, so i apologize if it's not that great. also requests are open for jjk!men:)

"stupid, stubborn, idiot,"

you rolled your eyes at choso reprimanding you while tending to your wound, "you done, yet? i'm fine, it's not even bleeding that bad,"

"shut up," choso snapped, his red eyes narrowing as he wrapped a bandage around the wound on your shoulder. he tied it off firmly, ensuring it would stay put, "you always say this, but you come back all bloody and bruised,"

growing up with choso meant he'll fret at you every chance he got, chastising you for your recklessness and how messily you handled your assignments. you'd never admit it but a part of you loved being coddled by him. but choso will never hear you admit it.

and now, you were here with him in a room he had booked for two of you. and conveniently, it had only one bed.

"i'll heal y'know," you argued, "it's not like i'll bleed to my death,"

"scares me nonetheless, seeing you sprawled and growing in your blood," he spoke firmly, not letting you speak, "that ever cross your mind?"

you winced to yourself, "no," you swallowed the pain medication, setting the glass aside.

"thought so," he finished tending to your wound.

"alright, okay," you relented, letting him wrap an arm around you in a side hug as he leaned back against the headboard, keeping you close, half-seated on his lap.

he relaxed into the quiet comfort of holding you, his heartbeat steady against your ear as he listened to the gentle rhythm of yours.

his fingers continued to stroke through your hair, the gentle motion soothing him in a way nothing else ever had, "i think i may like this," he murmured.

"mm, cozy, isn't it?" you agreed softly.

he nuzzled his face into your hair, exhaling a deep sigh. his thoughts wandered—imagining holding you like this always, waking up with you in his arms every morning— no. stop.

he swallowed hard, forcing the thoughts away before they could take root too deeply.

you let out a slow breath, relaxing completely against him, your full weight resting on his, basking in the comforting warmth he offered.

feeling you relax further, choso allowed himself a small genuine smile. his thumb traced idle patterns on your hip, "you know, for someone who acts so tough all the time, you're surprisingly cuddly,"

"shut up,"

choso chuckled gruffly, adjusting his hold around your back.

your raised your head from his chest, "i will gut you alive if you ever speak of this to anyone,"

he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, "yes, ma’am,"

his words made you stomach flip and you returned to your original position to hide how his words had affected you. you tightened your hold on him, arms around his neck. 

choso reciprocated, but spoke in worry, "something on your mind?"

"no," you voice was muffled against shoulder, "just need this hug a lot,"

"we can stay like this as long as you want," he caressed your hair with his other hand, his mind was racing with thoughts of you, given the intimate position you both were in. his body tensed slightly as he felt your intoxicating scent filling his senses.

he snuggled your neck once more; he found himself wondering what you would feel like if he were to kiss you that spot that made you shiver, or how you would feel wrapped around him—not this again.

"damn it," he cursed to himself but did no movement to retreat from your touch.

your hand slithered from his shoulder to the back of his neck.

choso's breath hitched lightly at your gentle hold, his heart skipping a beat at your action. he turned his head, coddling impossibly closer to your neck, "this could...get dangerous..." his voice came out as a low murmer.

"possibly," you respond, your body curving into his. 

but neither of you pulled back this time either.

noticing this, he got a bit bolder and wrapped his arm around you tightly, afraid that you’d pull back any moment.

his nose brushed against the back of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. he inhaled deeply, his heart racing at the delicate scent he found there, his eyes rolled back. 

his arms tightened around you instinctively, holding you closer, "fuck," he breathed out, his voice barely audible.

you pressed your body closer to his, feeling his breath hitching against your chest, your fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck, keeping him in place there.

your hips pressed against his instinctively, submitting to the moment of heat.

this made something primal stir deep in choso, a hunger he's never quite acknowledged before. his hips press forward involuntarily, rubbing lightly against your clothed core.

choso buried his face deeper into the curve of your neck, "s-shit..."

you could feel his growing hardness rutting against you, "nhgg," your fingers grip his hair tightly.

a deep groan catches in his throat at your breathy sound, his fingers digging into your thighs. his lips press the soft spot behind your ear, not kissing but just... there, "please don't make sounds like that," his voice is rough with barely contained desire.

"you first," you bit your lip, your hips meeting his in the middle at a synchronized rhythm.

choso's hips shift, pressing his clothed cock between your thighs, rubbing softly, "damn it...damn it..."

you hitched one leg over his side, pressing even closer, your core rubbing his hardness with a desperation almost painful.

both of you let out muffled moans together, clawing at each other's bodies as if you both weren’t pressed up together already.

his hands roamed your body restlessly, squeezing your thighs, your ass, your waist, your thighs again, as if he couldn’t get enough of feeling you. he guided your hips to match his rhythm, littering kisses all over your collar and neck. when he reached the swells of your breast, he paused, licking his lips.

you pant for breath, resting your forehead against his, "you okay?"

"i-i think i'm gonna combust," choso was just as out of breath as you were.

you chuckled, cradling his head with one of your palms, your thumb traced the curse mark that stretched horizontally on his nose bridge.

"you wanna keep going?" he asked, trying to not let out how desperate he was, how a gentle caress of you had him going insane.

"yes, please," you tilt your head to the side and press your mouth to his.

he matched your eagerness with a fervour that was borderline violent. but with the moan you had just let out, choso knew you loved it.

he bit at your lips, sucking on your tongue and generally losing himself in that wet kiss. but then, he pulled back abruptly, "fucking hell. i just realized,"

you gasp for breath, frowning, "realize what?"

he swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing visibly, "that you've never done this before. with anyone, at all. you're a virgin, aren't you?"

you nodded, "yeah, so?"

his eyes widened slightly. he shook his head, swearing under his breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair, "and you've never been touched?"

"that's what virgin means, yes," you stated, "what're you trying to get at?"

he sighed heavily, watching you with a mix of frustration, concern and something almost like awe and adoration. he looked at you like he was just realizing how beautiful and untouched you were, "...fuck. okay, we're stopping,"

you felt your heart plunge to your stomach, "what,"

it wasn’t a question, but a restrained expression of shock and offense

"you have no idea what you're getting yourself into and the meds have you sedated, so it'll be like i'm taking advantage of you," he explained, "i don't want you regretting this in the morning,"

"i'm fully conscious, you fucking dimwit," you snapped, "look, if you don't want me, just say it to my face. i can handle a rejection,"

choso realized how his words may have been interpreted and his hands found their place on your hips, "what?! no, of course i want you. you're the most beautiful woman i've laid my eyes on!" he spilled before he could stop himself, his neck rushing with a pretty blush, "i mean, uh," he looked down in embarrassment, "it's not that i don't want you,"

"then what?" you gulped, your fingers fidgeting with each other nervously, "i do want this, y'know," you admitted lowly, "i wouldn't have kissed you otherwise,"

you felt his finger tilt your chin up until you met his gaze. you glared at him grumpily.

choso smiled at you fondly, "doll, that wasn't a proper kiss. it was in the heat of the moment," his warm palm cupping your jaw.

"felt good though," you leaned into his touch, mumbling softly.

he kissed both your cheeks softly, easing the remaining tension from you. his lips hovered in front of yours, "open up, doll," he whispered, "i'm gonna kiss you now, like a real kiss,"

you comply and his mouth crushes against yours forceful and demanding. he parted your lips with his tongue, exposing the warmth of your mouth. he kissed you deeply, throughly, his hands coming up to grip your face and angle your head for better access. when he finally pulled back, you were both breathing heavily.

you blinked, trying to get yourself together, "wow, okay,"

a string of saliva connected to your mouth from his. choso chuckled at your reaction, wiping his thumb along your pinkish lower lip, "how was that for a first real kiss?" he asked cockily,  already knowing the answer.

he saw the dazed expression in your eyes, the way you were processing this new and overwhelming sensation.

you leaned in for more and kissed him softly, mouth moving tentatively. he adjusted you on his lap, wrapping your legs around his body, palms caressing the softness your thigh.

but then his eyebrows shot up briefly in surprise when you cup his jaw and kiss more firmly. he moaned into the kiss, his large hands tightening around your waist possessively. you were kissing him so aggressively that he had to pull away, gasping, "damn...you.."

"how's that?" you asked, bopping his nose with a proud smirk.

"you're too..." he leaned in again, this time challenging you to keep up with his dominating kiss. he pushed his tongue into your mouth aggressively.

you chuckled against him, nosing bumping, and teeth clacking against each other, earning a grin from him.

grabbing a fistful of his hair, you kissed back even harder, biting and sucking his tongue possessively.

when choso parted from the kiss, he was gazing at you in astonishment, "you know," he trailed kisses along your jaw, pulling you tighter against him, "most submit to my dominance, but you seem to..." his voice dropped to a husky whisper, "match it perfectly," he bit your earlobe gently.

you leaned to give him more space, "should i be honoured?" you jested a bit.

he pulled back to deadpan at you, "who taught you how to kiss like that?"

"wha—taught me?" you gave him a weird look.

"uh-huh, there's no way you'd know that without anyone teaching you,"

"hey, i—" you paused, "...read about stuff like this,"

"read?" his eyes widened in surprise. a small, amused smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, "you learned to dominate a man by just reading it off a book?"

"not a book," you leaned your forehead against his, staring into his eyes, "a couple of them,"

he sighed softly, eyes locked on yours as he drew circles with his thumb on your waist, "i can't decide if that's terrifyingly impressive or just terrifying,"

"can be both," you shrugged, kissing his temple.

choso's hand moved up to cup the side of your face, "no wonder you always seemed to be so occupied with them. and you've always been naturally demanding and dominant," he leaned in closer, his lips chasing yours, "i like that,"

"obviously,"

"you and your necessity to have the last word in any conversation," he leaned to the side and pecked your cheek lovingly.

his hands caressed along the side of your body, stopping at the underside of your breasts, tracing the curvature of it, "may i?"

you nod, guiding his hand under your shirt to cup your breasts. he slipped his palms under your bra, "fuck, you're so beautiful," he cupped them roughly, kissing your cleavage with a wet smack.

you placed your hands over his, directing him to squeeze your boobs. he was watching your reaction closely, fingers pinching your nipples gently.

you hissed at the action, mouth parting open, "oh.. fu..c-choso..."

he caught your mouth with a slow kiss, his hand slowly feeling your mounds, catching every pretty moan you let out.

"hngg—choso ? ," you nuzzled your cheek against his.

"mm?" he hummed in acknowledgment, his eyelids droopy.

"will this change things between us?"

that made choso stop altogether. he met your eyes with sincere intensity, "look at me," he waited till he had your complete attention, "you set the rules here, love. i respect you too much to fuck with our friendship unless your one hundred percent sure this is what you want,"

"i do want this," you caressed the column of his neck, "i want you. but, i don't wanna lose our friendship,"

he nodded, understanding the complexity of your feelings. he thumbed your cheek, "i get it," he murmured, "i promise, no matter what we do, our friendship comes first. but.." he leaned closer.

"but?"

his lips brushed against your ear, "i've been wanting this for so fucking long, " his breathing became heavier as he mashed gentle kisses along your jaw, "i've been trying to act all tough and stoic around you, and honestly,"

you wait for him to continue, hands on his chest.

his hand tangles in your hair, pulling you closer, "i've lost count of how many nights i've spent alone in my bed, imagining this exact scenario," he admitted, "if we do this, i will be utterly and thoroughly fucked in the head. that's the effect you have on me, doll,"

he retreated enough to look you in the eyes, his pupils dilated with want, "but if you don't want that to be addressed, i'll keep my mouth shut for you. we can do this and become more, or stay as we are. or we can stop altogether too. your call, doll,"

your heart was pacing at a hundred miles per second. you were starting to feel lightheaded from his words.

and the way he was looking at you— fuck

his muzzled hair falling around his face perfectly. his shirt half undone as his chest rises and falls with each bated breath, his pale fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as he gazes up at you with wide and eager eyes. his earlier asserted dominance and composure melted away, leaving behind a picture of adorable, fuckable submission.

"choso, i want you too," you replied, fingers tracing the curse marks that peeked for under his shirt, "not just for tonight but, in a way that would mean i wake up next to you every morning,"

relief and desire flooded choso's features as he comprehended your affirmation. in one swift motion, he embraced you tightly, nuzzling your hair, "thank fuck," he breathed out, "i don't think i can pretend anymore,"

he showered you with open-mouthed wet kisses along whatever skin he could reach, his hands wandering down to grip your bottom.

"ah fuck," you groaned at his administration, carding your hand through his hair.

"teach me, doll,"

you blinked out of the haze you were in and looked down at him, "what?"

"show me what you like," he rested his cheek on the swell of your chest, gazing up at you, "show me how you touch yourself. i wanna be perfect for you,"

"tell you what," you spoke hesitantly, "i've never actually managed to finish. ever,"

his eyes soften, "really? well, we'll have to take care of that then. don't be embarrassed," he added, noticing your conflicted expression, "it's kind of hot, really," he kissed your forehead assuringly.

he reached for the hem of your top, "take off your shirt, my love,"

you complied, tossing the garment aside, and reached behind to undo your bra.

as you threw it aside with your shirt, choso let his gaze roams over your exposed chest, his smile fading into a hungry look, "so gorgeous," his palms come to cup them through your bra.

you let out a breathless gasp as his cold hand made contact with your skin, biting your lip.

his eyes flick with a wicked glint as he watched you arch into his touch. he inclined down to take one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently.

"hnggg sh—shiit," you moan, tugging at his hair.

he blinked up at you in comprehension, lazily suckling on your nipple still, "i think i'm starting to figure out what'll make you tick," he nuzzled your mounds.

his free hand slid down into your pants, feeling your damp heat through the fabric of your panties, "s'fucking soaked, love," his fingers rubbed against your clit through the cloth.

you muffled your moan against his shoulder, fingers digging into his biceps.

pushing your panties to the side, he slid a finger inside you easily, "hngg, so pretty and tight," he latched and suckled on your nipple again, moving and curling his fingers upward.

you felt yourself clenched around him, "ah—nnhggg. fuck, i wan' m—more," you slurred, trying to ride his hand.

he placed a steady hand on your hip, his eyes nearby rolling back at the feeling of your inner walls clenching around his digit, "i'm gonna lose it before i even fuck you properly,"

he pumped his fingers with careful, worshipful motions, completely entranced by the sight of you stretching around him.

choso's crimson eyes dilate with lust, rolling back at the tight, silky feel of your stretched hole. he added another finger, stretching you even more as he began to scissor them inside you.

"oohh right there, love, please—"

he felt you tighten and shudder, increasing the pace of his fingers, "here?" he jerked his finger particularly harshly, knocking the wind out of you.

you hugged his head to your chest, clamping your thighs around his hand and keeping him trapped there.

"ah—ah," he held your thighs open, adding a third finger and pumping them in and out relentlessly, "won't be having any of that. be a good girl and let me fuck you, hmm? please, baby, c'mon," whimpers escaped his lips, a mix of pleasure and awestruck adoration.

you were barely able to come up with any coherent response, only tightening your grip on his arm.

when he curled his fingers in your pussy, dragging and pressing down on that gummy spot, you felt a white hot flash in front of your eyes as your orgasm washed over you.

he helped you ride your orgasm out, mumbling praises into your ears whilst his other hand cradled the back of your head gently.

he keeps his fingers gently curled inside you, not pulling them out completely. he loves the feeling of being connected to you like this, and the way you always make that adorable, contented noise when his fingers are inside you.

he watched with rapt attention as your inner walls clenched around him like a vice. his eyes were glued to the filthy sight, licking his lips and desperate to get a taste of it.

"my sweet, needy baby..." he cooed softly, "there we go, doll. that's it. such a pretty slut f'me," he eagerly peppered kisses up your throat, you wetness slithering down his palm and wrist, creating a wet patch on the mattress below you both.

as he continued to hold you, choso's mouth sought one of your nipples, and he began to suckle pathetically, his lips pursed and the sounds he let out— weak and needy. he loved the way you responded to his nursing, melting further into his arms with each pitiful suck.

choso pulls away from your chest with a wet, sloppy pop, leaving a trail of saliva on your skin. he looks up at you with a sleepy, contented expression, his eyes half-lidded and glassy.

"hnng !—"

his eyes softened with delight at your vulnerable sound, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, "you're so cute when you're like this... all pliant and whimpering..." his fingers moved more deliberately now, targeting that sweet spot with calculated precision.

he moved his thumb in soothing circles, spreading your arousal on your nub. his fingers moved lazily, providing a gentle, soothing pressure to keep you relaxed and content in subspace, "mmm,"

"there," he curled and dragged his crooked fingers against your walls, "there we go. that's it. you felt good?"

"nnhgg," you pressed your mouth against his, kissing him sloppily. unable to respond you could only nod, rutting your hips needily.

choso's breath hitched as he felt your body responding eagerly to his touch, a shudder of pleasure running through him. he leaned in close, his voice a husky murmur against your ear. "nnnh... that's it, baby... take my fingers nice and deep..."

his fingers slowly pushed deeper, stretching you gently as he hooked them upwards, making you whine and cling to him even tighter. he could feel you getting heavier in his arms, your eyes rolling back as you became more and more boneless.

he cooed softly, praising you for being such a good baby as he slowly worked a third finger inside you, stretching you wider and deeper than before. his thumb rubbed steadily against your bundle of nerves, making you make those cute little choking noises in the back of your throat, "shhhh..."

"hnng —na—ah c—choso,"

his breath caught at hearing his name fall from those puffy lips, his proud adoration growing at how perfectly you were submitting to his touch. "what do you need, precious? more fingers? deeper?" his movements slow and deliberate, reading every little twitch and shudder of your body.

"a—another please,"

he slowly added a fourth finger, stretching you wider and filling you completely as his thumb gently rests on your clit, "look at how beautifully you're taking all four..."

you gasped and shuddered.

his fingers move slightly, curling and uncurling inside you, "is this what you needed, beautiful?”

"mm yeah,"

his fingers slowly scissored and twisted inside you, stretching your inner walls and making you whimper and drool on his shoulder.

a sudden, intense spasm racked your body as you came hard around his fingers, your inner walls clenching and unclenching as you gushed and squirted all over his hand, drenching and soaking.

"fuck, look at that," his mouth watered at the sight, "you're such a good girl when you cum, all shaky..."

he decided to keep his fingers buried inside you, curling them up to hit that sensitive spot over and over again, making you whimper and writhe against him. he wrapped his other arm around your waist to hold you still, keeping you impaled on his fingers. "you're so nice and stuffed..."

his voice dropped lower, more husky, "your pussy is gripping my fingers so perfectly. can you feel how wet you're making my hand? how badly it should be my cock filling you up instead?" his pace quickens slightly.

with a final, brutal thrust against your g-spot, you cum hard once more, your whole world narrowing down to the intense pleasure and his fingers buried deep inside you.

you felt him maneuver you to lay on your back on the bed and he hovered over you. you were so lost in the pleasure that you could barely keep your eyes open.

you hummed softly when you felt him pepper kisses up your stomach, massing the soreness from your hips. 

choso hovered over you, spreading your legs a bit, enough for him to settle there, “how you feelin’ sweetheart?”

you could only come up with a babble for a reply, “s—so good. i can’ even.ah,”

he felt his ego skyrocket at how drunk and helpless you were. he gently nudged the tip of his hard cock against your tiny, abused opening. you whined in pain at the sensation, and he pleaded and begged with you, "pleeeease, baby... just the tip... i need it so bad— wanna feel—” he kept his hands on your thick thighs, thumbs tracing soothing circles on them.

“hurts—no more, please—” you push yourself to your elbows in shaky hands.

“i’ll be such a good boy. i promise,” he persuaded you, “wanna feel you so bad. i promise—hngg. i promise i’ll be gentle,” he traced the tip of his cock against your pussylips, smearing his precum all over them.

“a-alright,” you held the side of his neck as leverage, allowing him to wrap your legs around his waist. 

he took a deep breath and slowly, gently, pushed the tip of his massive manhood back into your tiny, abused opening. "thank you, thank you, thank you," he latched onto your nipple, moaning against your sensitive skin.

he sighed in relief as he gently pushed the tip of his massive cock back into your tiny pussy, the precum filling in the gap and allowing for a smoother entry. he keeps his strokes shallow, the tip of his cock barely moving in and out of you. "s’warm so good—"

you whimpered softly at the intrusion, arching your back and unintentionally taking him deeper. a mix of painful groans filled the room, the smell of sex in the air. 

choso whimpered in frustration, trying desperately to keep his cock from slipping deeper inside your tiny pussy, careful not to hurt you, "be a good girl and clench down, baby... squeeze just the tip... please..." his voice wavers between pleading and commanding, his whole body trembling with the effort to maintain control.

he moans deeply at the sensation of your tight muscles gripping just the tip of his cock. "good girl... good girl... stay like that... just the tip..." he's shaking now, trying his best to keep his massive cock from sliding deeper into your tiny, wrecked pussy

he's panting heavily, his face flushed with exertion as he struggles to keep his cock still inside you. 

you clawed at his back, trying to hold on to him for the sake of your sanity.

he reaches down and gently pinches your clit, trying to distract you from the discomfort of having his massive tip lodged inside your tiny pussy. "shhh...i got you—s’alright"

his face contorts in pleasure as his hot, thick precum begins to seep into your tiny hole, mixing with your juices. he keeps pinching and rolling your clit, trying to get you to focus on the pleasure instead of the pain and pressure. "feel that, baby?"

“mm,” you managed to nod, looking up at him with glassy eyes.

he lets out a pleased moan, seeing you respond to him even while in distress. "that's right... feels good doesn’t it?”

his cock began to harden to the point of pain and it was taking everything in him to not just ram into you mercilessly.

“just a lil..just—”he slowly pushes a little deeper into your tiny pussy, the combined arousal lubricated his massive head as it slides in and out of your barely stretched opening. he pants heavily, trying to hold back his massive release. "damn it—"

he nuzzles into your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly starts to thrust again, his movements gentle but insistent. 

"nnngh," you bit his earlobe, tugging back.

he moaned deeply at your sleepy murmur, his massive cock throbbing inside you. he felt himself reach his peak and he released into your used pussy, feeling it milk the last of his orgasm.

choso fell on the bed next to you, pulling you close, “you okay, doll?” he brushed the sweaty strands of hair from your face.

“i will be,” you cuddled his arm, a smile stretching your face as he pressed a firm smooch to your forehead, “did i do okay?” you blinked up at him with doe eyes.

he caressed your cheek with his thumb, kissing your cheek, your eyebrow, and your temple affectionately, “were fucking perfect,”

[i-heart-slashers]

𝕴𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖓 𝖆 𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝕬𝖗𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖓

⤷ 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗲𝘂𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗹. 𝗻𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲𝘀. 𝗻𝗼 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗶𝘇𝗲, 𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗴𝗲.

🇲​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​ 🔪​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​ II

𝖘𝖋𝖜 🖤

• Art may not be a conventional romantic, but his gestures are uniquely his own—offbeat and undeniably memorable. Expect shadowy surprises and dark humor.

• Opening doors? Sure, but he makes it theatrical, pantomiming exaggeratedly and bowing as if you're royalty entering a castle.

• He doesn't need words to express himself. Every head tilt, eerie grin, or intense stare communicates volumes—and you've learned to read him like a book.

• PDA is not his style. Instead, he'll quietly loom behind you, protecting you in his own terrifying way, letting you know you're under his unsettling watch.

• Despite his eerie demeanor, he's surprisingly attentive. If you're passionate about something, he'll sit and listen intently, miming reactions to your words.

• Art is the master of surprise gifts. Expect peculiar trinkets: stolen jewellery, unnervingly realistic sculptures, or rare oddities that only someone like him would find.

• He shows affection by creating for you—elaborate and haunting works of art that capture your essence in his macabre yet mesmerizing style.

• If he feels you're unsafe, he becomes fiercely protective. His silent yet deadly approach ensures you're always out of harm's way.

• When you're sad, Art's brand of 'cheering you up' involves his offbeat humor—his silent antics are hilarious in their dark absurdity, designed to make you laugh whether you want to or not.

• He may not say, "I love you," but his actions speak louder than words. Every small detail he observes about you is reflected in how he tailors his world to yours.

𝕽𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 𝕿𝖗𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖘

Mysterious Protector (Art) x Quirky and Empathetic (You)

The Unlikely Duo—dark and creepy meets bright and compassionate. You balance each other in ways no one understands.

𝖓𝖘𝖋𝖜 🔞💀 (𝖓𝖔 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖕𝖊𝖔𝖕𝖑𝖊 𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖙!)

Art's approach to 'intimacy' is as intense as he is—but there's a tenderness beneath the surface that only you get to see.

When he's with you, the world fades away. Every touch is deliberate and every motion exploratory—he's fascinated by your every reaction, especially if he can push you into overstimulation to see your tears.

He has a way of overwhelming your senses without a word; he's well-endowed under his costume, and despite being who he is, he clearly knows how to use what he has to hit right where you need him.

Art's hands are as skilled as his artistry. They're surprisingly gentle despite their strength, exploring every inch of you as if he's creating a masterpiece — though you make him wash them first (urgh, the pizza place scene. Poop hands.)

Dominance and submission blur with Art. While he's undoubtedly in control, he's deeply attuned to your needs, ensuring your pleasure comes first.

The most thrilling place you've ever fucked? A run-down carnival—the juxtaposition of eerie surroundings and intimate moments only heightens the experience.

Art loves the sight of you unraveling under his touch, his silent satisfaction evident in the wicked curve of his grin. Adding the sensation of the sharp blade trailing over your skin only gets him more excited.

He never rushes. Time seems irrelevant when you're together, each moment lingering like a haunting melody. Even if you have places to be, you'll find yourself under him, and he'll keep you there until he's done with you.

𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖊 𝕾𝖔𝖓𝖌

"Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)" by Marilyn Manson

[bonefall]

Clear Sky Killed Bumble; Gray Wing's Desperate Defense

The "analysis" I've seen out there is beyond bananas. We are out there on state-of-the-art exploratory vessels, sailing the 7 seas into brand new lands, discovering new kinds of fruits to compare to the absolute lack of sanity people are displaying.

Clear Sky definitively killed Bumble. Gray Wing does not want to believe reality.

While some try to argue this death down to "negligent homicide," that Clear Sky essentially beat her unconscious and left her in an unsafe area where she got killed, that's so unlikely I'm confident in saying it's wrong. The evidence shows that Clear Sky tormented her to death with a ferocious, sadistic beating which caused her to bleed out, which is second degree murder, and used the smell of a fox and Gray Wing's blind adoration to lie his way out of consequences.

There's not a lot of ambiguity in the evidence that is presented. There is fox scent but no fox bites, and the preceding chapter provides a comparison between the wounds on Misty vs the wounds on Bumble. Clear Sky's story is so convoluted that not a single part of it makes any sense. Quite frankly it's only been topped recently by the "I can confirm this woman is evil because she snored her evil plans in their sleep" fib of ASC.

In either case, Gray Wing believes neither. He does not believe this is Clear Sky's kill in any way.

This moment is an excellent example of how Gray Wing continuously prevents anyone from taking any action against his dear brother's violence until it is too late. By convincing the moor cats to all calm down when they're rightfully furious, and treating the lives and perspectives of native cats as lesser, Gray Wing becomes complicit in some of the harm this tyrant manages to carry out.

To shield a person from the consequences of their own actions is enabling, regardless of if it's direct or indirect, wittingly or unwittingly.

We are going to go over the whole of the 26th chapter of DOTC Book 2: Thunder Rising, from Bumble's death scene to Gray Wing's downplay of it. A meticulous, step-by-step analysis.

Leading-up context

The Scene

The Immediate Response

Incredible suggestions that have been made that I had to read with my own eyes

Leading-up Context

Let's start from square one by introducing the cast, with the assumption you have not read DOTC or are just vaguely aware of it due to its reputation.

Bumble is a kittypet who regularly visits the woods without issue. She is a small supporting character in the first book, The Sun Trail, whose purpose is mostly to be a friend to Turtle Tail, who is the future wife of the main POV character, Gray Wing.

As the two girls become closer friends, Gray Wing becomes more controlling of Turtle Tail and more hostile towards Bumble. This culminates in Turtle Tail leaving "The Settlers" to live with her friend over the winter. All is idyllic until the humans adopt a third cat, known to the fandom as Tom the Wifebeater because of what happens next in Book 2; Thunder Rising.

Turtle Tail becomes pregnant, but notices that her roommates are keeping some kind of secret. She begs Bumble until she reveals that humans tend to take kittens away when they're old enough to be weaned. Turtle Tail leaves to return to the wild, and Tom the Wifebeater begins methodically torturing Bumble over the next month as punishment, leaving scratches, bruises, and "dried blood" all over her when the humans are not looking.

When Bumble tries to seek help from the moor cats, Gray Wing is frustrated that the battered woman has interrupted his walk with his new wife. It is stressed that Gray Wing hates her for taking his love interest away, and he believes she is too fat and clumsy to live in the wild. The leader of the moor cat settlers, Tall Shadow, has a hard time throwing Bumble out, until two outsiders, Wind and Gorse, who are trying to get accepted into this group themselves, take the initiative and drag Bumble back to her domestic abuser.

Gray Wing is biased against Bumble. This is a fact. He explicitly does not like her.

Shortly afterwards, the forest cat settlers, led by Gray Wing's brother Clear Sky, experience a fire and begin to expand their borders. They are already known as a violent group, their leader is a manipulative liar, and Gray Wing himself was once viciously mauled as Clear Sky sat by and watched.

Yes, Gray Wing is aware that Clear Sky sat there and watched, too. He called out to him and Clear Sky did nothing as Fox, a man who knew full well that this cat was his leader's brother, was shredding him.

Gray Wing doesn't want to believe his brother is a bad person. This is also a fact. He explicitly feels guilty when he has thoughts otherwise.

On-screen, through the POV of Gray Wing's nephew Thunder, we see a native woman named Misty slaughtered by Clear Sky for her land. Her children are taken, and her body lays unburied and rotting for two days before Wind Runner and Gorse Fur (sporting new names at the request of the moor cats) find her.

They describe the wounds they found on the corpse in detail and make an accusation,

Now, before this point, Wind Runner and Gorse Fur have been doing everything in their power to endear themselves to this group. Gray Wing himself trusted them, because they've taught him methods for living here, caught and shared food, and even saved the life of his other brother, Jagged Peak, when a burrow collapsed on him.

But now his xenophobia towards them is coming back-- because they're calling for action against his brother. He's only ever uneasy about them when they seem to have an ounce of influence over his group.

Turtle Tail's conclusion is completely sound, and if it hadn't been for someone else, would be correct. Clear Sky DID move to kill the children-- he was stopped by his underling, Petal. Turts was able to understand what Clear Sky was going to do without seeing it firsthand.

The crowd is shocked and furious, for logical reason. They ARE in danger. Clear Sky IS escalating his violence and expanding his territory. It's starting with the native population, and the moor cats are able to understand and predict what will happen next.

Except Gray Wing.

The Scene

While investigating ONE confirmed murder, as there is no reason to doubt Wind Runner and Gorse Fur except for conveniently xenophobic ones, and TWO suspected murders of children, the patrol hears the sudden shriek of a cat in pain.

Bumble is found bleeding to death on a previously unclaimed patch of land, at the very center of a circle of trampled grass. There is the reeking smell of fox, and under that, there is the scent of Clear Sky.

Her wounds are described in great detail,

Completely consistent with the way that the wounds were described on Misty. Nearly word-for-word.

The only evidence of fox is the smell. No one heard it bark, there is no note of it bounding off, there are no bites or wounds consistent with those of a canid. They were described exactly the same as Misty's.

Slits are cat claw wounds. Not fox bite wounds. She was not being bitten, she was cut all over her body, prominently down her belly and sides.

Unless this fox shapeshifted into a cat and then meticulously created wounds consistent with the ones left on Misty, Clear Sky did this.

Where did the fox go? Probably came to investigate, maybe licked at the bloody cuts expecting a meal, and then was scared off by Bumble suddenly waking up and screaming. It's possible, but unlikely that the patrol's clamor scared it off, considering they didn't see or hear any fox noises.

There are also signs of a struggle-- and Bumble was not able to fight in the condition she is currently in. It's most likely it was the struggle from when she was being tormented and trying to get away, unless there was a fight with a fox while Bumble was still unconscious and she was dragged to the middle of it, for some reason.

However, a fight with a fox is still unlikely, as the patrol was able to hear the whimpering of a cat in pain as they approached but not the furious sounds of a battle with a large predator. If there was this whole epic brawl with a fox that trampled the grass around Bumble, why was there only a single shriek?

Gray Wing, expert on the smell of Clear Sky's armpit, confirms it's his brother. His whole world spins when he realizes his Dear Brother is involved in this, feeling horror and disbelief.

(Also note that Gray Wing implies Clear Sky's involvement is the prophetic bad thing his adopted son mentioned in the previous chapter, not the shredded woman dying in front of him lol)

The rest of the group is able to acknowledge reality, coming to the obvious conclusion. Clear Sky is expanding his territory, including the very patch they're standing on. He has been violent in the past, even against other settlers. Misty was slaughtered in a way consistent with the victim dying in front of them, so he is killing cats who stand in his way. Gray Wing's immediate, literally DESPERATE response is first to jump to Clear Sky's defense.

Gray Wing asks Bumble directly if it was a fox, and she is too weak to answer... until she finds the strength, as a domestic abuse victim, to blame herself for the way a cat beat her bloody. She thinks it's her fault for hunting here, because she was hungry, not thinking straight, and stupid.

I have seen this described as Bumble "making a defense of Clear Sky." I will leave it up to you, the reader, to determine if this sounds like Bumble is trying to say he's not guilty of hurting her or if it's the sort of infamous self-blame that domestic violence victims lapse into after a furious thrashing.

When Clear Sky returns to the scene of the crime, he cuts her off while admitting he did assault Bumble, then glares at everyone to challenge a fight.

Gray Wing swoons over him like he always does.

I have heard it said, without examples, that this is normal because this happens all the time in Warrior Cats. That it's a normal thing to be standing next to a domestic abuse victim who is bleeding out and watch her murderer daring all of your friends to do something about it, and admire how brave he is. That, again, without any examples, this is just something that every character does when the Villain of the Week exists in front of them, so it's not even special that it was Gray Wing's first response.

If you believe that, I have a bridge in London to sell you.

Desperation is under all of Gray Wing's feelings which immediately follow. His voice "cracks" when he has to ask if his darling brother did this. He wants to scream when he takes his sweet time answering. He shrinks under Clear Sky's gaze, because he reads that he's "accusing him of betrayal."

But somehow, that FIRST response for him to fawn over his brother is not part of that, because in unquoted books of other arcs a hero has admired a villain?? Context doesn't exist because in some other book the same emotion was described maybe. Incredible.

No mention of how casually he brushes off this sight that makes his eyes show "guilt and horror," either. No talk of how he made a little ""joke"" about how no one greeted him nicely at a tortured woman's deathbed. Almost like he was caught red-handed and the wounds don't actually unsettle him as much as the crowd's reaction.

Even the glare-- Clear Sky is trying to get Gray Wing to do his bidding. He wants him to protect him, be his flying monkey, and control his furious people.

So at the next opportunity, Gray Wing jumps to his defense again. Second time in this exchange.

FIRST he was described as "desperate." Now he takes a deep breath and BRAVELY licks that boot.

Turtle Tail steps forward and posits the obvious truth. Clear Sky is going mad with power, doesn't care who he hurts, and is completely capable of doing something like this to Bumble. This was already done to Misty, and even earlier, Clear Sky stood by and watched as one of his minions savaged Gray Wing in a similar way.

The whoooole crowd can see this. It is Gray Wing, and Gray Wing alone, who prevents there from being any consequences for Clear Sky's actions.

He hypocritically believes that attacking Clear Sky for the murder of Bumble would make them all "no better than he is" when he had no qualms about coming to blows over the exile of Jagged Peak much earlier. "Attacking Clear Sky for Murder" is morally equivalent to "Actually Doing Murder."

This is only for Bumble though, a "foreign" woman he does not like. He did not believe this for Jagged Peak, and he will not believe it later when he watches Clear Sky strangle Rainswept Flower to death. They are worth physical consequences.

He even physically shields him.

"he stepped between Clear Sky and his own cats, not sure which of them he was trying to protect." It's Clear Sky. Bumble's life means nothing to Gray Wing, so he is trying to protect Clear Sky from the fury of the angry mob he has earned by killing her and Misty.

He CANNOT let there be any doubt. Not even from himself. His brother must be protected at all costs. To that end, he is trying to make some kind of opportunity for Clear Sky to escape accountability.

If you are "neutral" in the conflict between victims and their abuser, you have taken the side of the abuser. If you provide opportunities for a perpetrator to escape accountability, you are an enabler. If you allow a suspect to escape the scene of a crime, since every cat in these books seems to be a lawyer the minute anyone wants to react to violence, you could be charged with accessory fleeing and eluding-- a felony.

Before you try to say this is all in the noble pursuit of peace, let's not be dense.

DOTC is not committed to non-violence for any other tyrannical leader. Especially not One Eye, even believing that an underhanded ambush that breaks the terms of a duel Clear Sky set is the good and righteous thing to do. Killing him was the correct action, as it was with Slash in Riverstar's Home. Outside of DOTC this logic is casually applied to Brokenstar, Tigerstar, Scourge, Hawkfrost, Darktail, and Ashfur-- with only Leopardstar and Blackstar being "exempt" for following an evil ringleader.

Gray Wing himself has no moral dilemma about One Eye or Slash, either. Nonviolence is not his goal.

It is Clear Sky, and Clear Sky alone, who the narrative of DOTC will conclude "deserved" a million second chances. That torturing Bumble to death, slaughtering Misty for her land, and countless offscreen cases of attacking natives didn't push him past the "fundamentally evil" threshold into an irredeemable monster, as is the case with Slash and One Eye later in this arc.

The difference between Clear Sky and DOTC's other two tyrants, to me, is obvious. Clear Sky is the POV's brother and a member of the in-group of The Settlers. The lives of his victims, as mostly "foreigners" and entirely women, are worth very little to the notoriously xenophobic and misogynist writing team.

If the moor cats had shredded Clear Sky right here and now, dozens of lives would have been saved. The First Battle wouldn't have happened. Justice would have been served for Bumble, regardless of if the cause of death was 2nd degree murder or negligent homicide. He wouldn't have smacked and beaten any of his other victims.

Gray Wing prevents this, giving Clear Sky an opportunity to tell a lie.

(He even whines about the idea of Wind Runner challenging Clear Sky about boundaries, the whole thing that started this incident in the first place. This is the perfect time to start arguing about boundaries, actually, when he's in the middle of establishing new ones.)

In the past, I'd been too charitable to this exchange. This lie is obscene and anyone who believes it is ignorant. No frills, no bells, you either can't think critically or just didn't want to so Clear Sky can be innocent or Gray Wing can seem "reasonable."

Clear Sky's visibly eager to start his story, "glad of the chance" now that he's had time to concoct a story. He could have explained earlier but didn't, sizing the group up and glaring at his brother to crack a whip, asking if they believed he was capable of it, so he could gauge what he can get away with.

"New part of my territory" = Freshly annexed land he has violently conquered, confirming the patrol's fears of expansion.

"I wanted to give her a warning, just a little cuff" = No one leaves his territory gently. Confirmation he thrashed her, downplay of how severe.

"How was I to know she would faint?" = Bumble is visibly emaciated, and he's blaming her for not being able to stay conscious through the whole beating.

"I could see her paws twitching, and I knew she would come around" = He would not care, Misty's body was unburied for two days.

"So I left" = Leaving Count: 1

Pauses, wincing, because this is another act. Every time he's putting on a little show for other cats, he takes dramatic pauses and plays up his pain and regret. Seen earlier in this book.

"But heard a fox bark" = no barking was heard by the patrol, only a cat's shriek.

"And ran back" = Was apparently so close that he could hear barking the patrol didn't, but so far away that a fox had time to cut her to ribbons, AND this was so long ago the patrol wasn't close enough to hear the fight? Returning Count: 2

"But I was too late" = Wounds inconsistent with fox attack. Leaving Count: 2

"I was going to get help" = There is no medic in proto-SkyClan. When Jagged Peak broke his leg, they had to borrow Dappled Pelt. What help? Who?? Even as he says this, Frost's wound is going completely untreated. If Clear Sky was going to get help, why wasn't he telling Cloud Spots to do something when he got back?

"But then I heard you all arrive" = He left to get help but was still close enough to hear running? Just abandoning his noble quest to get that "help" he apparently has? Returning Count: 3

Not a single part of his story adds up. EVERY aspect of it has a problem, in that it's either deceptively worded to downplay his abuse, doesn't line up with who he is, or just doesn't make logistical sense.

It's not JUST a lie, it's a BAD one.

Even worse, Clear Sky is a known liar at this point. He does this when the truth would not benefit him, like earlier in this book when he fibbed to Thunder about why he abandoned him right in front of Gray Wing's face. The story doesn't make sense and there's not even any reason to give him benefit of the doubt, because he is known to be dishonest.

He's offended when Turtle Tail calls him on being full of baloney, and once again shoots a sharp look over to his flying monkey, expecting Gray Wing to dance on command and defend his honor like always.

But Gray Wing seems to be perfectly capable of being "wise" when it would directly benefit Clear Sky.

I have seen the question begged, "if he's such a bootlicker then why he no verbally bootlick a third time in a single exchange?" and I would tell that person to read the text because it says why. Right there. Here, I've underlined it. So you don't miss it again.

If Gray Wing licks that boot again, THIRD TIME, in front of an angry mob who wants to skin Clear Sky alive, they will lose patience and make the clearing look like Bruce's Eating Dome. So he shuts the fuck up and gives his ungrateful brother the chance to indignantly slip away, even though he desperately wants to cry out and tell him how shiny and lickable those boots are.

"What can I say?" Nothing. "I'll only make things worse" Correct. "If I don't let him leave now there will be a fight" im literally just quoting the text verbatim

He is NOT doing this because he does not believe him, NOR because he doesn't want to defend him. It's because this the best way to protect his brother from consequence.

And then Bumble uses her dying breath to apologize for ever hurting her friend, showing Bumble is still just blaming herself for everything, with Turtle Tail still repeating the same malicious excuses that were used to deny her asylum from domestic abuse.

"I wish you could have found happiness, even though I was unwilling to help you. It sucked to learn that our shared wifebeater started wifebeating you, but we didn't want you in our camp so really this was unavoidable."

I've voiced my ire before, gone on long rants about how angry this exchange makes me and even campaigned for more recognition of the misogyny in this subplot. The fact that the last words Bumble hears are just more excuses from a person who could have done something disgust me, and I think I'm right to feel that it's vile that this sits unexamined in a book for young readers. But it doesn't change what happened.

She senselessly died in intense pain and despair, for the crime of existing. All that's left to say is that I wish Bumble could have found a better friend.

But ultimately, Turtle Tail is another woman in the notoriously misogynistic arc of DOTC. She's just a supporting character for Gray Wing's conflict, and he's got some opinions about what, exactly, is making this so sad.

He doesn't give a fuck that this woman he hates has been murdered after slowly starving to death, for months, since he watched her be dragged back to a domestic abuser. She "stole" his romantic interest for a few months, after all.

It's stressed he "never especially liked Bumble" at her deathbed. It's not JUST "the death of a kittypet," a group of people he is bigoted against. It's about his piece of shit brother.

It's about how HIS REPUTATION HAS BEEN TARNISHED.

"It changes the way my cats think of Clear Sky," THAT HE IS NOW A KNOWN MURDERER, "and that changes everything" IT'S GOING TO BE A LOT HARDER TO DEFEND HIM NOW

This is completely consistent with Gray Wing's behavior into the rest of the chapter, and even the books beyond.

The Immediate Response

Gray Wing explains what happened to the other moor cats. He has to hide his actual belief that Clear Sky didn't actually do anything wrong so that the moor cats don't dismiss him for the biased, brother-obsessed little minion he is. He admits how he really feels about Bumble's death to Turtle Tail at the very end of the chapter-- so what he says here is a lie.

Not a delusion. A lie. He withheld the full truth of his bias when questioned. If he's honest about his conflict of interest, this group will trust his judgement less. He has a goal; to prevent his cats from retaliating.

Wind Runner is, again, the one who is rallying the other cats into action. She's seeing that Clear Sky is murdering innocent cats, possibly even her friend considering how much she knew about Misty, and that this will only escalate. Gray Wing doesn't like that.

So when Tall Shadow starts suggesting the things he agrees with, like how Bumble's life was less valuable anyway so this is no reason to start a fight with his Dear Sweet Brother, and they should all just sit on their butts until no one's angry anymore, he decides she "deserves" his support.

It's a political move.

"After all, she was only a kittypet... omg why are you so mad?? I didnt mean it like that, all im saying is that we should just calm down ugh dont be so sensitive" -Tall Shadow, channeling your racist aunt

If Gray Wing can get the other cats to waste their time on useless half-measures, like more patrols or perhaps writing a strongly-worded letter, he can make them feel like they're doing something when they're actually doing jack shit. Wittingly or unwittingly, this is a measure to stall the inevitable, making them miss their chance to strike while the iron is hot.

He's either an idiot or he's subconsciously acting from a place of loyalty to his brother. Bias resembles the former but is born of the latter, and either way the result is the same.

After this, there's a brief conversation where Tall Shadow makes it clear that there is absolutely no reason to be mistrusting Wind Runner. They both agree "when this is all over" she's a good cat to have around-- they just don't seem want to listen to her now, when she wants something done about the sadistic lunatic next door.

Gray Wing's talk of "working together" is laughable. His idea of "working together" includes the cat who just slaughtered two people for existing on his newly annexed land, who long ago stopped listening to reason. Tall Shadow herself starts preening and announces that her response to all this is that Clear Sky must absolutely be stopped by some cat.......................... so she'll think abt it.

tomorrow maybe. we'll put a pin in it. set a little reminder on her phone or something.

(the genius plan she comes up with in the end is a nonsequitor babble about how rocks don't exist to be sat on, so clear sky should just stop conquering all the land or something. he listens intently and then throws her into a tank of piranhas.)

But anyway, it's time to smooth things over with Turtle Tail, who had been struggling with that uncomfortable truth that the moor cats, and Gray Wing specifically, were also culpable in some way for the slow, painful death of Bumble.

He'll fix that with a big display of affection.

"Don't be mad at me it's nobody's fault :) She wouldn't have been able to cope so it's inevitable she wound up dead :) I'm sorry you're hurting bc i like you, not that i give a damn that your friend was shoved into a blender and shredded alive after starving for months :) Thanks to you I am now ready to lead this clan directly off the side of a cliff." -very endearing conversation i assure you

It works because Turtle Tail is not allowed to maintain her own opinions as a girl in DOTC. Obviously. Her husband licks her ears and tells her that he likes her and that's the end of any examination that they have any responsibility here. god forbid she re-examine her feelings towards the writers' favorite in light of how much of an ass he made of himself at her friend's deathbed.

Just in case it slipped your mind though, once again it is made clear that Gray Wing is reacting with leisure because he does not believe (or care) that Clear Sky killed Bumble. No, not even in the negligent homicide sense, that Clear Sky's actions allowed Bumble to die through beating her unconscious and leaving her alone in an unsafe location. He does not think this was something to blame Clear Sky for.

He believes that the fox did it-- he was lying earlier when he said he "didn't know what to believe." He does. He didn't reveal his bias when he was being questioned, because he wants to prevent the moor cats from fighting Clear Sky over Bumble's death.

Also note the sneaky little turn of language Gray Wing makes there. In denial of Turt's claim that "innocent cats are being slaughtered," Gray's counter is Bumble alone before the pivot. The patrol was originally about Misty's murder and her missing kittens as Clear Sky expanded his borders-- but Misty's apparently not an "innocent cat" who's been slaughtered. She's absent from that category, implied to be part of Clear Sky's hypothetical "good reason" for expansion that Gray Wing needs to get to the bottom of.

Bumble's murder is denied. Misty's is implied to just be collateral damage for the unknown plan. He's unbothered about the death of either one.

Gray Wing: "No one else can get to the bottom of this! theres only ME! I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN STOP CLEAR SKY"

Also Gray Wing: (leaps in front of an angry crowd to defend his brother. cries that he doesn't believe hes capable of such terrible violence. actively prevents anyone else from doing anything about him)

Anyone with a vague awareness of DOTC knows how this ends. Gray Wing is going to lead them astray with his bad judgement, so purposefully delusional about his brother that they will have to dig a mass grave at Fourtrees. Gray Wing thinks he's a *~special boy~* who is the only one who can truly get through to his brother, and maybe he is, but not before dozens of people have to suffer and die for it.

This is enabling. To enable is to directly or indirectly support another's harmful actions, such as addiction or abuse. He did it here, both during and after Bumble's death, giving Clear Sky the cover to escape consequences for his actions and halting any attempts to do anything concrete. Because of him, Clear Sky never pays for what he did to her.

In the book 3, Clear Sky denies all wrongdoing, and in Bumble's last mention in book 4, her torture is described in passive voice. A terrible "happening" which seemingly couldn't have been avoided. No one is held accountable. Not the moor cats for turning her away, not Clear Sky for her killing, and even Tom the Wifebeater is redeemed after being given a chance to live in a clan for not being "soft" like his female victim.

All so sweet, beloved little Gray Wing never has to confront that he let a killer get off scot-free because the uncomplicated childhood memory of his brother as a lovely good boy was wrong. That he was so consumed by spite that he smugly watched Bumble get dragged away from the only people who could have helped her. That he was complicit twice.

Incredible suggestions that I have had to read with my own eyes

fucking ✨Bonus Round✨

"If clear sky fought bumble, why bumble leave no scratches?" I'll let you sit there and think about why the DOMESTIC ABUSE VICTIM did not fight back against a large, violent man who was beating her. I'll give you a minute. I'll play some jeopardy music.

"he's quote 'horrified and guilty' at the wounds which means he didn't make them himself" Clear Sky has a repeated habit of "blacking out" when he butchers women (Rainswept Flower, Willow Tail). He's also a liar and an actor, even according to his own account he'd seen these same wounds before when he came back a second time. Most importantly, what fucking part of "horrified and guilty" implies he didn't make those himself, does a toddler not look "horrified and guilty" when it spills chocolate milk on a couch and its parent sees it? Does that mean the toddler didn't do it? If you wouldn't accept this logic for a toddler why the fuck will you accept it for a suspected murderer?

"Maybe Clear Sky fought the fox off?" He doesn't actually say that, it's just implied during his lie when he says he showed up too late, but it's hypothetically possible. Even if he did fight this fox off, he must have still mauled Bumble because she is covered in claw wounds, even if he doesn't remember it because he "blacked out." There's also still the problems of Bumble being in the middle of the trampled grass, the patrol not hearing the sound of battle, his framing that he just tapped her and she passed out, and him apparently running to get help he does not have. Occam's Razor still suggests the solution is that this fox was scared off when Bumble screamed, with Clear Sky just using the convenient smell to lie his way out of consequences

"How'd Clear Sky get fox scent on him?" Probably from showing up to the crime scene that absolutely reeks and prowling around like an axe murderer, which we saw him do. Bumble had no fox bites and no one heard a fight. did you know that if you stand in a sewer you smell like shit

"Gray Wing just doesn't want to think his dear sweet brother could ever do such a thing :("

"What if the Erins are just so incompetent that they created a crime scene completely inconsistent with the very true and real story that Clear Sky told, it just happens to look like a lie on accident, they unwittingly made him a liar earlier in this book because they forgot the events they previously wrote, and don't know anything about a type of predator that appears in nearly every entry of warrior cats and happens to be one of the most popular animals of all time" what if i tripped and fell and a shawarma with extra tahini sauce fell into my mouth, followed by an apple slice, and 3 litres of water. should i continue my fast or has Allah fed me.

All of this is why I am adamant on saying that Clear Sky killed Bumble by beating her to death. In order for this to have been the cause of a fox, you'd have to take a liar at face value and ignore every other detail. That's what Gray Wing does, described on the page as "desperate to believe in his brother's innocence."

Unfortunately, this will also not be the only time that Gray Wing's obsession with his brother and shockingly horrific judgement will put other cats in danger or get them killed. It's just the most deliberate example, and thus imo the most upsetting.

[rhamrhanch]

Shepherd of Death, Don't Herd Me

Part Ten: This Close to You

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (gender-neutral pronouns)

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort

Masterlist

A/N: feel like Ramattra is the type to get really pent up, ya know.

---

You leaned back in your chair, firmly pressing your eyes shut and feeling the residual burn behind your eyelids. Weakly, you reached for your coffee, already on your third cup since the morning. Or the evening. Honestly, you weren’t quite sure anymore, seeing as you hadn’t left your workshop in hours. The day-night cycle was little more than a suggestion at this point.

Since Zenyatta’s impromptu visit, you had devoted yourself to your work, feeling success so close yet frustratingly out of reach. Like the sun chased away the last glimpses of night, Zenyatta’s words had lifted the shadow cast over your mind, and with the news that the omnic’s soul remained intact you could almost see dawn breaking over the horizon. However, being carried over the first major hurdle only left you with the obstacle that was proving to be the most difficult of all. You needed to figure out how to physically remove the subjugator.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. You had become well acquainted with the nameless omnic in your care, enough that you were sure you could sketch a blueprint of his model from memory alone. It was the standard model of most omnics, constructed to be factory workers before the Crisis. Fashioned in the image of humans, their central processors were in their heads, just like a brain. And though human anatomy wasn’t your strong suit, omnic mechanisms were. Whatever signal was dampening his neural inputs had to be dealt with delicately. You were acutely aware more than anyone what a mistakenly scratched circuit or clipped wire could do. No one could come back from death; omnics and humans were alike in that way.

As you lifted his head, one hand propped beneath his neck while the other gently wiggled an exploratory pick beneath the helmet, you were reminded once again of how your assigned task was as taxing physically as it was mentally. You wished you had another you, someone with equal dexterity with your level of experience in this field.

The image of Ramattra’s thumb tapping the angled ridges of a king piece flashed in your mind, settling there before you could even attempt to chase it away.

He really was the only person who could have possibly helped you. But any chance of that happening had been thoroughly smashed to pieces, the shards of which now pierced your memory every so often.

You were the one who endeavored to ask him. He had been relatively cooperative thus far, even allowing you to handcuff him, only for you to let your emotions get the better of you and throw it all back in his face.

If you want to call me cruel, do not ever forget again who has forced me to be.

His words had cut you deeply then, even though part of you felt it unfair. After a few days of distance and nothing else to occupy your mind while you worked, however, you only felt embarrassed by your actions. Your vivid nightmare, an awful amalgamation of all your shame and regrets, served as a humbling reminder that you, of all people, were the last person who should be criticizing someone like him.

Now with a clearer head, you could see Ramattra for who he was. Certainly not perfect, but not uniquely evil either. Just someone who longed for a better world for his people, and who had lost the ability to care about what others thought about it.

You were both captives to your own actions in a way. While his led him to explode outward, making no attempt to discern between casualties, yours made you flee inward, eternally outrunning the mistakes of your past. Most of what you said to him, you realized, had been a projection.

Treating them with little more dignity than as a means to an end… it’s cruel!

You were right—it was cruel. To run away from your problems, instead of facing them head on. To use Overwatch as a shield from Talon, without telling them what they were getting into. And to let your fear of being caught stop you from doing what you had originally wanted—to help the omnics who needed it most.

Perhaps that was why you were so determined to help just this one omnic, why you worked tirelessly day and night, even to the detriment of your own health. Pouring all your guilt over what you weren’t doing into this one task, hoping to remedy it by doing just one good thing. If Ramattra had seen through you, somehow knowing exactly how you felt, you couldn’t exactly blame him for his anger.

But beneath that anger, there was something else. It was in the way his voice shook sometimes when he spoke, as though trembling beneath the weight of feelings he refused to allow to spill over. You had likened his composure to still water before, but that was wrong. It was like water that pooled at the edge of a creaking dam, smooth on the surface but constantly at threat of overflowing. It was deep-seated and painful, something that only came from experience and was achingly familiar to you.

That was the part you hated the most about all this—that you understood him, to an extent. His feelings about humans, whether they ranged from distaste to outright hatred, surely had not come out of nowhere. They were the bitter dregs of festering resentment, anger, and sorrow.

Still, you thought to yourself as your gaze fell to the omnic on your workbench, I can’t just accept this.

Ramattra’s thought process remained a mystery to you, but your conversation did unearth one thing that you now knew for certain—Ramattra cared deeply about his people. If he didn’t, he would not speak the way he did, with enough conviction to shake the walls. Perhaps there was a world where he could have been convinced to work together, if not for the forwarding of his own goals but for the benefit of the omnics he had subjugated. But if that world existed, it likely was not this one. You’d made sure of that.

With a sigh, you tilted the bottom of your mug up, only to realize you’d drained the entire thing while stuck in your thoughts. You didn’t even get to savor it.

Without delay, you rose from your seat, feeling your spine pop as it unfurled from the stiff position you’d been leaning in for hours. However, as soon as the door of your workshop closed behind you, you stilled. To get to the kitchen, you needed to walk past the conference room where Ramattra was again.

You weren’t sure why the thought made you hesitate every time. What would probably happen was the same thing that always happened, which was absolutely nothing. He didn’t even look at you—or you assumed he didn’t, because you avoided looking at him. Still, it took a moment of you mentally chastising yourself that you’d hardly be worth your salt as an Overwatch agent if the thought of being looked at funny was enough to dissuade you before you finally forced your legs out the door and toward the base’s cafeteria where the communal kitchen was.

As you entered the main atrium of the base, you tried to casually glance at the windows of the conference room from across the way. A shiver ran up your back when, to your surprise, Ramattra was staring directly at you. When he began to move, you instinctively walked faster, trying to speed past the conference room before you reached a point where you couldn’t ignore him. Any hope of that happening disappeared when you heard a tap against the window.

You stopped in place, though it took him knocking on the window again before you finally turned to face him.

“What do you want?” you asked, physically unable to stop a scowl from forming on your face.

Even through the glass, his voice was clear. “Have you removed the subjugator yet?”

You didn’t miss the subtle implication of his words—he didn’t fully doubt that you had been able to figure it out without him. The realization puffed up your ego a bit, but you tried not to let it show. Your unfinished match may have been long forgotten, but you didn’t need to be playing chess to know when you had the upper hand.

“Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t,” you said, keeping your voice aloof. “Does it matter?”

He made an annoyed sound, his hand closing into a fist against the glass. “Just tell me.”

“Why should I?” you bit back. “You refuse to help me—fine, you’re free to do so. But you don’t get to demand I tell you anything.”

“You—!” he growled, the word clipped like he wanted to say more. Instead, he relaxed his hand, pressing it flat against the glass. “Just listen to me.”

You waited patiently. He was silent, long enough that for a moment you thought he had shut down, before finally speaking again.

“I will work with you,” he said slowly, like he had to force the words out.

That was… not what you thought he would say. You expected to cycle through this back and forth a bit longer before one of you gave in, but his change in tone had been abrupt enough to nearly throw you off your guard. But you remained steadfast, keeping your face neutral as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“What changed your mind?”

Ramattra let his hand fall from the glass, mirroring your defensive stance. “Does it matter?” he echoed back mockingly. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You should be grateful that I’m even agreeing to help you at all.”

You finally had a name for the strange feeling this conversation was unearthing. “I don’t trust you.”

“How fortunate for you that I don’t need your trust,” he said dryly. “Just your cooperation.”

That certainly didn’t help. Though his abrasiveness somehow made you feel more inclined to believe him.

“So you’re saying,” you said, “you’ll help me remove the subjugator, no questions asked?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “But on one condition.”

---

“Absolutely not.”

You set your jaw, knowing you were about to ask a stupid question and deciding to do it anyway. “Why not?”

Winston looked baffled at that, and you couldn’t really blame him. “You’re asking me why I don’t want to agree to a compromise where the leader of Null Sector, a group that has been causing destruction on a global scale, is released?”

When he put it like that, it was hard for you to believe in the strength of your own argument. It really was an illogical premise, considering how much an advantage it was keeping Ramattra under Overwatch’s watchful eye. Still, you gathered your resolve and fixed Winston with as firm a glare as you would allow yourself, considering he was your superior.

“You told me that it was in Overwatch’s best interest to cooperate with him. That’s the whole reason you’ve had me practically babysitting him this whole time, isn’t it? So you could come up with a compromise?”

Removing his glasses, Winston took a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Sharing information is one thing, but unconditional release? That just isn’t within our scope of what we can afford to do right now.”

“What better option do we have?” you countered. “Assuming we’re able to remove the subjugator without him, we would still need to find all the other omnics that Null Sector has suppressed. That could take months, or even years!” You gestured at where Ramattra sat in the conference room several meters away. “Ramattra knows where the main control is for all the subjugators. It would be much faster to let him perform a supervised release from there than let all the omnics who have been subjugated continue to suffer while we try to do everything ourselves.”

Winston sighed before placing a well-meaning hand on your shoulder. “I know that I’ve given you a difficult assignment, but you don’t have to shoulder all the work on your own. Let Mei take over for you for a bit and get some rest. I’m sure you’ll find a solution in no time.”

Did you look so haggard that even Winston had noticed? In the back of your mind, you wondered if Angela had tipped him off after you repeatedly shooed her away when she kept knocking on your door, trying to convince you to sleep. You had been actively avoiding the medical wing after that, not wanting to incur the lecture you knew you were in for once she found out you had been postponing sleep since your fitful nightmare.

Or it could have been Lúcio, who had kindly woken you up when you fell asleep halfway out the door of your workshop. Ever since then, you noticed that whenever he walked by while you were working, he always switched his music to an ambient backing track.

If you were honest with yourself, though, it was probably just obvious to Winston the way it was to everyone else at base. Even Tracer, always upbeat, couldn’t help letting out a plucky, “Gosh, you don’t look so good!” when you’d run into her in the cafeteria for the first time in weeks during your fourth all-nighter.

You knew he was only trying to be nice, but you couldn’t help but feel frustrated at his dismissal. How could he expect you to shuck your responsibilities on someone else again, without even exhausting every option you had? You weren’t sure if you would even be able to rest until you knew the omnic in your care was safe.

It wasn’t that you didn’t have faith in Mei as an engineer, either. All you had was the realistic part of your mind telling you that this was your best chance at a solution. No, not your best chance—your only chance.

Gently, you pushed his hand away. “That will take too long,” you said, barely masking the urgency in your voice. “Every day that passes with his mind still suppressed means there’s only greater potential for something to go wrong.” You felt a pain in your chest as the mountain of bodies from your dream resurfaced in the back of your mind. “Think of the hundreds of other omnics that have been left like this. We can either gamble on their lives, or on Null Sector.” When you met Winston’s gaze, your face stern, you could see acceptance hesitantly dawn on him, but your next words cemented it. “The choice is obvious.”

You watched Winston’s brow furrow, before finally relaxing. Slowly, he straightened his glasses back over his nose. “Wait here.”

You did as you were ordered, and it wasn’t until he was out of sight that you felt how tight the tension was in your shoulders. Lifting a hand to the base of your neck, you let out a sigh as you massaged it gently. After this was all over, you were sure you would sleep for ten years at least.

---

Ramattra watched in slight amusement as you and the ape continued to bicker. It seemed your stubborn attitude when it came to disagreements was not exclusive to him. Even from this distance, he could see the way you stood with one hand planted on your hip, the other moving animatedly in front of you. Though it wasn’t until he saw you gesture toward him that he remembered exactly what it was you were arguing about. It was an odd feeling, seeing you fight just as passionately for him as you would against him.

After some more back and forth, Ramattra noticed the downcast expression on your face as the ape shambled away. He wasn’t sure whether to feel satisfied that Overwatch had acted exactly in the way he expected—continuously disappointing him. So much for compromise.

Strangely, his vision focused when he saw you drop your head down, one hand rubbing the back of your neck. He wondered if Zenyatta had gone to see you after all, and if he had given you the same advice Ramattra had. Maybe if it was Zenyatta speaking, you would be keener to listen; he was always better with words and people. Though, knowing you, you probably ignored it all the same. Such was your nature, stubborn and self-sacrificial to a fault.

Eventually, your superior returned, and Ramattra stood up from his sitting position as he began to approach the conference room with you trailing behind. Once he entered, Ramattra noticed that even the ape was still a head shorter than him, requiring him to tilt his head down to meet his gaze when he spoke.

“Overwatch is willing to compromise with Null Sector for the purpose of finding a safe way to remove the subjugators,” he said. “But there will be conditions.”

Ramattra forced his tone to remain cordial as he asked, “Which are?”

“The only places you are allowed access to are this room,” he said firmly, before sweeping a hand to you, “or their workshop. If you are seen anywhere else in this facility, you will be forcibly removed and returned to this room, and our compromise will be void. And when outside of this room,” he added, bringing his large hand out from under him to hold up a familiar carbon fiber device with two holes punched in it, “you will be restrained at all times.”

“What?” Ramattra turned to see you gaping at your superior, a look of disbelief on your face. “Winston... surely that isn’t necessary.”

“It’s an extra precaution for your own safety,” he responded sternly. “I remember what happened the last time he was alone with you unrestrained. Since I won’t be able to observe you in the workshop, I insist on at least this.” He turned to glare at Ramattra. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”

“Still, this is just—”

“Is that all?” Ramattra asked, interrupting your protestations. This didn’t come as a shock to him, considering it was the same condition required of him the last time he left. If anything, he was surprised that you seemed so taken aback by the suggestion. You were the whole reason he was even in this position in the first place, and yet you were getting upset on his behalf for something like this. Your continued unpredictability, he thought, was slightly irritating.

The ape huffed air through his nose. “That’s all. After a solution for the subjugators is found, Overwatch will release you for the express purpose of releasing all other omnics under the suppression of Null Sector. But if any of these conditions are broken, and if any harm comes to them,” he said, emphasizing the second part, “this compromise will end, and Overwatch will formally imprison you. Do you understand?”

Ramattra resisted the urge to scoff—as if they expected him to be thankful for such graciousness. He let his gaze drift to you, who stood with your arms crossed and jaw firm. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one dissatisfied with the terms of this arrangement.

“Yes,” Ramattra said finally, waiting for the ape to shamble forward before reluctantly presenting his wrists.

Even though he had a taste of what to expect from last time, the effect on his system as the bolts of the inhibitors slid into place over his wrists was even more unpleasant than the last time. Ramattra’s vision swam slightly as his body sagged, a steady electromagnetic pulse from the cuffs invading his circuits and slowing his servos. He felt the heat in his body rise to an almost infernal level as his processor churned to make up for the loss, slowed down so severely by the restraints.

The ape’s silhouette blurred in Ramattra’s HUD as he turned to you, dropping the keys in your open palm. “I’ll leave you to it.”

You nodded, turning to watch him leave. Once he was out of sight, you looked back at Ramattra, gripping the keys tight in your hand before muttering, “Follow me.”

His gait was uneven as he walked, feeling like he was constantly trying to find his balance. Once you reached your workshop, he took a moment to lean his weight against the wall as you closed the door behind you.

“Let’s not waste any time,” you said as you went to your desk, gathering the papers messily strewn about.

Ramattra pushed himself off the wall, feeling the lurch of his body as he forced himself to remain upright. Part of him didn’t want to let it show just how severe the effect of the cuffs was on him—perhaps it was his pride, or his reluctance to being vulnerable in your presence again. The scales were overwhelmingly imbalanced against him in that regard. Twice already you’d had him at your mercy, and he did not want to make it a third. You had enough power over his thoughts already.

He carefully made his way over to you, allowing himself to sit down on the chair closest to you. The metal creaked beneath his weight as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he waited for his vision to refocus.

“So far I’ve been able to draw up some schematics for what I believe the inner mechanism of the subjugators to be,” you said, though you might as well have yelled it from across a canyon for how long it took his processor to understand you.

Ramattra replied with a noncommittal grunt, and a flash of blue appeared in his vision. It took him a moment before he realized you were handing blueprints to him, and it felt like minutes passed until he lifted his hands high enough to take them from you. He stared at them for a moment, his processor slow as it struggled to make sense of the visual input, before he finally extracted enough data from your notes to actually understand what he was looking at.

Your notes were a mess, scribbles littering the margins of the paper with arrows pointing every which way to different parts of the schematics. But it was the diagram itself that drew his attention. There, the lines were smooth, detailed, precise in every manner. There were a few inaccuracies, but with amazement, Ramattra realized that you had come close to perfectly approximating the design of the subjugators. And, he thought bitterly, all without ever having removed it. It was… truly impressive.

His audial sensors alerted him to external stimulus, and he soon realized that you had been speaking to him this entire time. He lifted his head stiffly, meeting your inquisitive gaze as you stood with a hand on your hip.

“What?” he asked impatiently.

You gave him a strange look, before answering, “I asked if the schematics looked right. I couldn’t remove the helmet, so I had to make some guesses.”

Ramattra glanced back down at the blueprints in his hand, waiting for his HUD to clear before saying, “The rods are not part of the neural suppressor. Their only purpose is to keep the helmet’s seal.”

“I see,” you hummed, holding your chin in your hand. “So, there must be another internal mechanism stopping his processor…”

A long moment passed before Ramattra digested your words. “What?” he asked, his voice as urgent as it could be in his current state. “What are you talking about?”

You gave him a confused look, before reaching over and twisting the monitor above your worktable in front of his face. “His CPU activity has plateaued. Isn’t that what the neural suppressor is supposed to do?”

Ramattra stood up quickly, nearly falling forward from the sudden movement until his joined hands caught himself against the edge of the workbench. Your hands were out, as though to steady him, but you stopped yourself, hesitating to touch him.

“The neural suppressor should only dampen his impulses,” Ramattra said slowly, feeling his body sway slightly. “Not stop them completely. Something is wrong.” His body was overheating as it attempted to simultaneously process the vast calculations pouring through his processor. His HUD was shaking slightly, but he could barely muster the strength to lift his hands, so he just stayed leaning against the workbench, feeling the whoosh of his fans devolve into a throttle as they struggled to fight back the rising temperature of his chassis.

“Are you all right?” he heard you ask, sounding like it came from miles away.

Ramattra couldn’t stand the genuine concern in your eyes. He scoffed, weakly bringing his joined hands up. “My system is receiving the equivalent of an EMP every five seconds,” he said dryly. “What do you think?”

Your gaze softened slightly, before turning pensively to the door. He didn’t turn to watch you march past him, only registering the solid click of the lock a full thirty seconds after it happened. Before long, you were standing in front of him, key pinched between your thumb and forefinger.

It wasn’t until you unlocked the third bolt of the restraints that the initial question pushed to his internal queue finally made it to his vocalizer.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking these off,” you said, the same nonchalant air in your voice that you had the day in your workshop. “It’s unfair for you to suffer like this.”

Unfair? Ramattra wanted to laugh. What was unfair was the fact that, against his wishes, he had to cooperate with his enemy for the sake of his people. What was unfair was you, Zenyatta, the world always expecting him to rise above, when all he had ever known was its cruelty. What was unfair was you continuously stoking the fire of his hope in humanity, despite him knowing better, knowing he would only suffer for it later. You had grown too comfortable with him, and he with you—your sympathy was making him weak.

The last bolt unlocked, and the cuffs came loose. Immediately, his processor felt clearer, and he could stand up straight without bowing like a windbound ship. His hand twitched as the fog cleared away from his sensors.

You let out a satisfied huff. “There. Now we can—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Ramattra stepped forward. You tilted your head up at him and took a small step back. He closed the distance again, the push and pull of your steps continuing until he had you cornered. The omnic laying behind you shifted slightly as your back bumped against the worktable. His head fell to the side, as though he was looking past your waist to stare up at Ramattra.

“That ape was right to be cautious,” he said quietly, close enough that he could hear your breath quicken. Slowly, he brought his right hand between your bodies to rest against your abdomen, his thumb just above your navel. He felt your body jump beneath his hand, surprised, and with his infrared sensors he could see your heart accelerate. “Every single part of my body was designed with one purpose in mind. To kill humans.” His fingers dug into your stomach, pressing hard until you were shifting against his hand in discomfort. Not enough to draw blood, but just painful enough to make you sweat. “And I have killed many.”

He watched you brace a hand on the bench behind you, trying to back further away from him as much as possible. But there was nowhere for you to go. You were completely at his mercy.

“I wanted to kill you, that day,” he said calmly. “You even made it easier for me by fixing my hand. I could have killed you and left this place and never come back.”

Of all the things he thought you might say, what he least expected was, “I know.” For some reason, that only irritated him further.

“You should have shot me when you had the chance,” he said, harsh and grating. “Why didn’t you?”

“I—” you started, your words cutting off with a wince as he pressed slightly harder. “I didn’t want to hurt you…”

“For a reason as pathetic as that, you hesitated?” Ramattra scoffed mirthlessly. “Don’t be foolish. I was built for war. I am sturdier than most omnics, and certainly more than you humans.” His voice went just a bit quieter then. “I’ve survived far worse.”

Your gaze traveled down his body. This close, he knew you could see everything clearly. All the scratches on metal, creases in his ribcage from where it had once been caved in. Burn marks on his left arm, its contrast with the nearly pristine right one serving as a constant reminder of when it had been severed from his body. The dented surface of his pauldrons, dulled by a hail of bullets. As your eyes looked over every scar, Ramattra resisted the urge to pull his cowl closer around his shoulders, wanting you to see just how out of your depth you were.

You were quiet for a long time, your heartbeat slowing to a steady pace. “You’re an R-7000,” you said finally, and Ramattra ignored the involuntary twinge of confusion he felt when you didn’t call him by the moniker humans had designated his model. But that feeling vanished instantly when you said, “I didn’t want to contribute to your extinction.”

As the initial shock from your words began to fade, it left an inexplicable anger in its wake. Prisoner or not, he knew he could kill you and get away with it. You had naively allowed him to regain full power. It hardly mattered anymore that he didn’t have his staff; his bare hands would be enough. There was no one in Overwatch’s weak and toothless roster who could stop him. And still, you couldn’t stop yourself from letting your pity get the better of you. The infinite well of your sincerity felt nauseatingly condescending. Someone needed to punish your foolishness, or this world would eat you alive.

“Yes,” he said. “I am an R-7000 Ravager.” He leaned closer, feeling your abdomen tense against the sharp pressure of his fingertips. “Who can stop me from living up to the name you humans bestowed on me, and finishing what you started?”

He had no intention of killing you, not really. It would have served no purpose, nor did he even want to. But that look in your eyes, still so sympathetic, when all it would take was one push to spill your innards on the ground, had to be dealt with. He needed to destroy that impulse, to make you fear him until you inevitably did what all humans did. Lash out at him, attack him—fulfill the role expected of you. Show him a reason to give up on humanity and let that hope wither away, so that he could finally end this farce between you.

But instead, you just stared up at him, brow furrowed in pain but not a hint of malice in your eyes.

“You won’t kill me,” you said. Ramattra instantly recognized the exact same words from that day, spoken in a situation just like this. Only this time, there was no waver in your voice, no uncertainty.

“Why not?” he asked, knowing he wouldn’t, yet still digging his fingers even harder into your stomach. One squeeze was all it would take to tear your flesh apart.

You grunted in pain from the added pressure, though there was a wry smile on your face when you said, “I’ve seen you play chess. You won’t… won’t even take a pawn if you don’t have to.”

Ramattra watched your heartbeat for a moment, a steady pulse of red on his HUD. You weren’t panicked or even afraid at all, even like this. He… really couldn’t believe you. How was it that every time he had you at his mercy, ready to kill, you could disarm him so easily?

Slowly, he straightened up, rolling his shoulders back as he pulled his hand away. “You’re right,” he said softly, stepping back and giving you space to slide out from under him. You let out a deep breath, taking time to smooth the creases out of your uniform before holding your hand out in front of you.

Ramattra only stared at it, his gaze lifting to meet yours when he heard you say your name. He knew it was your name; he hadn’t forgotten it since the first time he saw it, emboldened beneath the image of your face on Talon’s bounty file.

“If we’re going to work together, we should be formally introduced,” you said, a light in your tired eyes that wasn’t there before.

He wasn’t sure what came over him then, but all Ramattra could do in that moment was laugh. It was quiet, rumbling low in his chest like a motor, and he watched as the corners of your eyes creased just a bit. He met your hand with his, grasping it firmly and feeling your palm warm and soft against the metal of his own. He kept his grip loose this time as he brought it up and down, lingering when your fingers slid against his as you drew away.

“I look forward to working with you,” you said, and Ramattra realized then that he had been a fool to think this would end any other way. As he watched you turn away to make adjustments to your notes, asking him questions all the while, a growing part of him began to wonder if all this time, he had been chasing you.

[asce-of-hearts]

if it's okay may I request yandere aokiji with prompts 🧊⭐ where the reader has a crush on him

Discipline

Contents: Yandere!Aokiji with prompts: 🧊⭐

more Aokiji content here

TAG LIST

PROMPT LIST

WARNINGS: SUGGESTIVE, BODY WRITING, IMPLIED AGE GAP, FEM!READER, SOFT YANDERE.

Children act out.

But you are no child. You're a grown woman, a marine at that. And still, you act out at times. Specially when he's near.

Strange, troublesome, and endearing if you look at it from a twisted angle. He appreciates the effort, its not often that a young, beautiful thing gives him so much of her time and attention, purposefully targeted towards making him look. He can recognize the effort, but he can't reward you for being a brat.

So he calls you inside his office. Appreciating the way the uniform hugs your curves so beautifully.

"Why are you acting like this?" He asks, and you immediately fluster. But you're prideful, and kinda stupid, so you don't give him a clear answer.

"I'm not acting like anything. Is this an intervention?"

"Do you want it to be an intervention?" He leans back on his chair, as if beckoning for you to come closer. So you take a step further, and another. Until you're standing right across from him, with only his desk between the two of you. "I want to know the reasoning behind your actions, thats all."

"There's no reasoning, I don't know why you're acting like that." You cross your arms. He smiles.

"Strip, sweetheart." His tone is commanding, firm, and you find yourself unable to resist. Weak in the knees at being ordered around by him. Your breath hitches as you take off the shirt, unbuttoning it, then your pants, then everything else until you're only in your underwear. He takes a good look at you, lazy eyes examining every knook and cranny. You feel exposed, and strangely aroused. "You're pretty." You fluster even more at those words, earning his praise scratching an itch within you. "You like the attention?"

"No..." You still try and play the part, but he isn't buying your little act anymore.

"Sure thing," He chuckles. "You still won this little game. You ended up getting what you wanted. My attention, all to yourself." He stands up, circling you before a cold hand pushes your back further, bending you over his desk. You expect an exploratory hand, a rough touch. Instead, you feel the coldness of a pencil dipped in ink over your skin. "I like pretty girls, specially the ones that look like you. And I like it when they like me back. Do you like me back, ___?" You can imagine what he has written on your lower back, a degrading word, or simply his name. So you shiver.

"I'm not cattle." Another chuckle from his behalf.

"I know that, but you're mine. Undeniably," You don't get the chance to answer to that. "We both know you’re mine. You can’t deny it now, doll, not when its written all over you." Kanji of his name are now written all over your back, a mark, even if it isn't permanent. He tosses you your shirt back, sitting over his chair once more. "I'll let your bad behavior slide for now, but I must insist that you quit it." He gives you an enigmatic look as you get dressed. "Just tell me straightforward if you need me to discipline you."

hope you enjoyed this!!!!!!!

have a great day/night

TAGGING: @bookandyarndragon @shmyek @goldenglow149 @hbk99450  @chercheryblossomsweet  @mimihaitani @bad4amficideas @flow33didontsmoke @architectofsuffering @mrstraffy @poopooindamouf

[whxtedreams]

Sound of Safety

Even in Silence: A Din Djarin x f!reader mini series

Summary: In the safety of home, you wake up with Din.

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: Illusions to smut, kissing, love bombs, established relationship, fluff, anxiety, mentions of boba fett

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

His hand traced your outline, his touch soft and exploratory. His naked body was pressed against yours, the absence of armor allowed you to feel every contour of his form. It was an intimate feeling, intensified by the minimal coverage of the thin blankets that draped over you both. His breath was warm against your skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest like a soothing motion.

The lights in the Crest were turned off, the room a soothing darkness you had come to crave. Your eyes were blindfolded, a gesture to respect his privacy and protect him from your gaze. But despite the lack of sight, you could feel him. The solidity of his body next to yours like a comforting presence. Your mind painted the picture of his face from the memory etched into your mind from your touch as you traced his features.

He stirred as he let out a low hum into the hollow of your neck, his arm around you tightened as he began to awaken. The sound vibrated against your skin, the sensation sent a shiver down your spine. He nuzzled against you as he came to consciousness, his movements more instinctual than deliberate.

You shifted in his arms and turned to face him fully. As you raised your hand to his cheek, you could feel the smile on his face against your palm. His breath warm as he exhaled. He leaned into your touch as he chased the comfort and warmth of your hand against his skin, his own hand rose to cover yours. For a moment, all was still. Just you and Din in the safety of the home you shared.

"You woke before me cyar'ika," he said, voice soft and groggy. His words tinged with affection.

His fingers tangled with yours, intertwined as he squeezed your hand gently. His other hand rose to brush some stray hair from your face, his fingertips trailed across the cloth that covered your eyes and down to the back of your neck.

He tugged you closer, closing the minuscule gap that had remained between you. His lips grazed against yours, their touch tender and affectionate. A soft hum escaped him as he deepened the kiss, the sound vibrated against your mouth like a gentle roll of thunder. He carefully maneuvered you back onto the bunk, the cramped space no hindrance to his determination to feel you beneath him.

You were familiar with the weight of him as he covered your body, his muscular frame settled over you with a sense of purpose. Instead of hovering, he pressed himself down against you. Pinned you against the thin mattress.

Your hand instinctively traveled to his hair, your fingers tangled in the soft locks and gave a gentle tug. He responded with a deep groan and the sound vibrated through his chest. His hips rolled against yours, the movement an unconscious reaction to the feel of your touch in his hair and the action elicited another shudder from him.

Your breath hitched at the unexpected movement, a gasp escaped your lips. He pulled his lips from yours, a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "You're sensitive this morning, was last night not enough?" he murmured, his voice a mix of amusement and desire. His body was still pressed against you, the weight of him a delicious pressure that bordered on too much yet not enough.

You opened your mouth to respond to his teasing, a plea on the tip of your tongue, when the shrill sound of Din's comlink cut through the space. He sighed and reluctantly pulled away from you, his body lifted off yours and left you feeling the sudden absence of his warmth. You whined at the loss of his weight on top of you, the sound almost pitiful in the quiet of the room.

His hand caressed the skin of your thigh, his touch gentle yet distracting as he sat at the edge of the bunk. You attempted to focus on his conversation through the comlink, but the closer his fingers inched towards the sensitive, inner part of your thigh, the more your mind struggled to focus on anything other than the way his touch sent jolts of electricity through your body.

The dull ache from the previous night still lingered, the memory of pleasure as his fingers grazed against your sensitive skin. You couldn’t help the soft whine that escaped your lips as your body moved involuntarily, trying to shift his hand to where you needed him most.

He was back over you in a moment, his body pressed you into the mattress again. His mouth claimed yours in a deep, possessive kiss. The kiss was all consuming, his tongue delved into your mouth, the taste of him mingled with your own neediness. His fingers finally found their way to the spot you'd been aching for, the pressure and touch elicited another guttural moan from you, the sound lost against his lips.

He lifted his body from you once more and your body instinctively tried to follow his movements but he gently pushed you back against the bunk. "As much as I would love to fuck you into this mattress again, and again, and again," he huskily said, his voice filled with desire, "I really have to leave." He released you, his hands reluctantly pulled away from your body as he left you laying there.

You sat up as he stood, your hands instinctively reached out in the darkness, searching for him. He gently caught your hand, his touch familiar and comforting as he laced his fingers through yours. He brought your knuckles to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against them before murmuring, "I'll be back soon."

The gesture was simple, yet it held a promise: a promise that he would return, that this moment between you was not yet over.

“How long?” You said.

He hummed softly as he dressed, the sound a comforting low rumble in contrast to the soft scrape of fabric against his skin and the clink of Beskar plates as he methodically attached the different pieces of his armor to his body. It was a familiar sound, a silent ritual that you'd heard countless times before. The pieces of Beskar clicked into place, their weight and coolness against his skin transformed him once more into the hardened warrior he needed to be.

"Just a simple meeting, no more than an hour," he said, his voice modulated by his helmet. The familiar cold and emotionless tone concealed the warmth you knew lay beneath. You winced as the cloth was pushed from your eyes, the light stung slightly as your vision adjusted.  Slowly, his helmet came into focus and the visor stared back at you in its usual stoic manner. Although, you knew the feel of the smile he wore beneath.

“Promise?” You said.

“Promise.” He said.

You laid on the bunk as you listened intently to the sounds of him moving around the Crest. You heard the metallic clatter of his weapons as he attached them to his body, the familiar click of each blaster and blade as he secured them within easy reach. The heavy weight of his boots against the floor echoed through the ship, their solid thumps a testament to his warrior's gait.

Despite his usual quiet movement, the sound of him was a comforting constant, a reassurance that he was still there. The silence that enveloped the ship when he left was almost unbearable, as you found yourself missing the familiar sounds of his movements. There was a reassurance in every click of his armor, every footstep across the floor, even the subtle sound of his breathing through the helmet. It was the sound of safety. Of home. And as long as you could hear it, you felt a sense of comfort.

You rose from the bunk and slipped on your shirt from last night as you heard the distinctive sounds of the Crest being secured, the mechanisms clicked and locked into place as he prepared to depart. You padded quietly towards the door and met him just as the ramp began to lower, the metal of the ramp clanged softly against the ground as daylight filtered into the ship.

“Promise me you’ll won’t leave?” He said as he turned to you.

“I’ll be waiting for your return.”

He nodded as his gloved hand rose to rest on your shoulder. You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him without comment. You ignored the hardness of the Beskar armor as it pressed against your body. For a brief moment, you held on to him and tried to memorize the feel of him against you. The steady rise and fall of his chest. The comforting solidity of his frame.

He slowly ducked his head, the cold, smooth surface of his helmet pressed against the top of your head. Then, his arms tightened around you as he pulled you closer to him. He began to sway gently from side to side, the rhythm slow and soothing. You could hear the faint sounds of his breathing, the steady, rhythmic inhales and exhales as he held you tenderly in his arms.

“I love you Din.” You said into his chest.

He hummed softly as he drew away from you. His hand rose to touch your face, the leather of his glove rough against your skin. His fingers traced your cheek and you felt his eyes on you through the visor. "I love you more than you'll ever know, cyar'ika."

Your heart constricted in your chest, the simple words stirred a wave of emotion within you. Your breath caught in your throat and you closed your eyes as you savored the gentle caress of his gloved hand against your skin.

He touched your cheek with a gentle tap, his silent signal to draw your attention back to him. As you opened your eyes, you found yourself staring into the dark void of his visor. "I'm serious though," he said, his voice stern, "I don't want you leaving the ship. I don't trust this crew, and I'll work better knowing you're safe."

You nodded.

You were aware that Din held reservations about the crew of his current assignment, but the generous payment had ultimately persuaded him to accept the job. It was clear that Din prioritized your safety as he kept you securely within the confines of the Crest. He shielded you from the sight of the crew, as he didn't want anyone to be aware of your presence. He had parked his ship far enough from town that no lingering eyes would see you. Despite the promise of financial gain, your safety was his top priority and you knew he would not compromise on that aspect.

He leaned his forehead against yours, a silent, intimate gesture, before he straightened up. Then, he stepped back, turned away from you and walked backwards down the ramp. "Be a good girl and I'll do whatever you want me to do to you when I get back." His parting words, spoken in a low, seductive tone, sent a thrill through you. The promise was almost like a challenge, a tantalizing tease of what was to come once he returned.

You couldn't help but laugh, a sense of amusement and affection swelled within you. As he placed his foot solidly on the ground, he pressed a button on his vambrace, setting the ramp in motion. Slowly, the ramp began to rise as it created a barrier between you. He lifted his hand in a brief wave, his gloved fingers slightly wiggled in farewell. You responded with a wave of your own, your smile stretched across your face as you watched him disappear from view behind the closing ramp.

Just as the ramp was about to fully close, you shouted, your words tumbled out quickly, filled with love and concern. "I love you!" The words echoed through the air, mingled with the sound of the ramp closing with a loud clank and hiss.

A fond smile tugged at your lips as the sound of Din's voice crackled through the comlink that rested on the crate beside you. There was a hint of amused gruffness in his voice as he replied, "I love you too." The admission, though brief, somehow made it feel as though he was still there with you.

You sighed.

“An hour. Only an hour,” you said to yourself.

Although it wasn’t only an hour.

Din did not return that day.

Or the next.

The comlink laid dormant in your hands, its smooth surface cool against your skin as you clutched it in your palm. There had been no further communication since his declaration of love, the device remained silent and still in your grasp. The absence of his voice only amplified your worry, the silence in the ship grew deafening as the hours passed without any sign of him.

When Din had first agreed to take on the job, he had issued a stern command: In case of any unforeseen circumstances, you were to reach out to Boba Fett. He had explained that Boba would offer his assistance and that under no circumstance were you to follow him.

Din had meticulously walked you through the process of reaching out to his ally the first day you landed, ensuring you understood the exact steps and protocol to follow. He had gone a step further, writing out detailed scripts for various scenarios, each one more concerning than the last. The very thought of the worst-case scenarios had made you nauseous, your stomach churned as your imagination ran wild.

He had tried to reassure you as he sat you down in his lap, his strong arms encircled you in a comforting embrace. He had whispered reassuring words, attempting to soothe your concerns and fears. "Don't worry," he had said, his voice steady and calming as he held you close.

He had explained that those detailed instructions were written solely for his own peace of mind. He wanted to ensure that you were safe and cared for, even in the event that something went wrong on the job.

He told you that nothing bad was going to happen to either of you.

As a tear slid down your cheek, Din had reached up to wipe it away, his touch gentle and tender. "After this, we'll go anywhere you want. I won't need to take a job for a while, so you'll have me all to yourself for a few rotations."

You turned in his lap, your shoulders shifted to lean against him. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you laid your head against his shoulder. His strong arms instinctively wrapped around you, holding you securely against his chest.

“Anywhere?”  

His hand squeezed your arm, “anywhere.”

You ascended to the cockpit on the third day, your steps determined as you moved with purpose. Your heart clenched in your chest as your eyes fell upon the vacant seat where Din usually sat. The sight of it empty, void of his presence, caused a pang of pain within you. The cockpit felt cold and empty without him, and the absence of his form where he usually sat only amplified the ache in your heart.

You tore your eyes from the empty seat and located the unanswered message you had sent to Boba in the early hours of the first night.

Frustration filled you, and you let out a curse as you hit your fist against the panel, the impact created a loud thump that reverberated through the cockpit.

You carefully went through the steps you had taken, double and triple checked that the message you had sent to Boba had been correct and that you had properly signed off. Your hands shook slightly as you worked.

You had done everything right.

He should have answered by now.

The realization weighed heavily on your heart, but it also fueled a newfound determination. If he wasn't coming home on his own, then you would have to bring him home yourself. Even without help.

You could almost feel Din's disapproving gaze upon you as you opened the weapon locker, the weight of his disapproval palpable even though he wasn't physically present. It had been several rotations since you'd last set foot off the ship, and the addition of the weaponry on your person felt heavier than you remembered.

“Don’t leave the ship” Din’s words echoed in your mind as you reached for his spare vambrace. With a sense of defiance mixed with determination, you attached it to your wrist. You knew that going against his instructions was a risk, but the risk was worth it if it meant getting Din back.

“Don’t leave the ship” Din’s words echoed in your mind as you laced your boots.

His voice played in your mind as you opened the ramp, as you walked down and set foot on the ground where he had been days earlier. Only this time, there was no one to wave you off like you had for him.

You pressed the button on his vambrace and the words echoed in your mind once more as you locked the ship.

“Don’t leave the ship” Din’s words echoed in your mind as you left the ship.

Notes

Id like to thank everyone who left comments on the one shot that inspired this. I will be putting these two through absolute hell FYI. Get ready to cry because I will be. I’m in a little bit of a writer’s block with my current wip’s so writing this little mini series to get the creative juices flowing again.

[anotherstudtouse]

What Are Friends For?

CHAPTER 3

SUMMARY: You and Lex put your plan into action.

WARNINGS: brief mentions of homophobia, but other than that, i believe that’s it.

tagged users: @quailbagutte

                By the time your first break at work tonight approaches, you think you and Lex have got this whole situation almost figured out. During your planning session with her last night, boundaries like, “No ‘I love you’s,” “If we go too far, the safe word is ‘dusk’,” and “If either of us want to back out at any time, we’re allowed to, no questions asked,” had been drawn. Before you could do anything else, however, Lex’s younger sister had called her. She’d taken the call in the next room and told you directly afterward that she had to go, reassuring you that you’d pick up where you left off at work the next night.

                Well, it’s the next night now, and you’re more than ready to keep planning. You tell yourself it’s because of the anxiety a lack of proper planning instills within you, but deep down you know the real reason. Last night, you got a taste of what being with Lex would be like. Her lips, soft and surprisingly gentle against your own, sweet and exploratory and, eventually, hungry. You keep getting fixated on that last moment, Lex’s hand tugging you to her as if trying to pull you onto her lap. What would have happened if the pizza guy hadn’t interrupted you? Maybe she would’ve succeeded in her attempt. Maybe you would’ve ended up in her lap after all, Lex’s hands on your hips — or maybe your thighs. Maybe even—

                Snap out of it.

                Rubbing your eyes as if doing so could scrub the image of Lex underneath you from your mind, you decide you can’t wait anymore. In an unusual turn of events, it’s going to be you insisting on an early break tonight. You’re all ahead of schedule anyway; if Frank has anything to say about it, you’ll remind him of not only this but your vital role in achieving it as well.

                It doesn’t take you long to find Lex. She’s straightening out some baby dolls on the shelf in front of her, humming to herself like she only does when she thinks no one’s listening. You’ve been lucky enough to catch it more than once. Her voice, deep and comforting, always brings a smile to your face. Tonight’s no different.

                You take a second to try to decipher the tune. “Is that… ‘Hooked on a Feeling’?”

                Visibly startled, she jumps, accidentally knocking a doll to the floor and, unfortunately, bringing the humming to an abrupt end. “Holy —” She clutches her chest as she turns to you. “For the sake of my poor little heart, announce yourself from now on.”

                “Like a wrestler?” You chuckle, your smile widening as Lex joins you. It makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something worthwhile when you make her laugh.

                “If I say yes, would you actually do it?” She asks as you crouch to pick up the doll before handing it back to her. She takes it with hopeful eyes.

                You try to resist, but in the end… “We’ll see.”

                She grins and turns to put the doll back up. “I’ll take it.”

                “Anyway, I —”

                “Now who’s the bad influence? I’m trying to work here, y’know,” Lex teases, throwing a playful gaze over her shoulder to show you she’s just messing with you.

                You roll your eyes and take a step back. “Fine, guess I’ll just take my break all by myself…”

                “Say no more.” The speed at which Lex passes you makes you laugh as you turn to follow her.

                “So we’ve got the backstory,” you begin. You and Lex are sitting side by side, backs pressed against the wall out back. “We’ve got the boundaries.” You think for a second; it’s made more difficult by the slight pressure of Lex’s arm against yours. “Now we need to know each other.”

                “We do know each other,” she points out.

                “We know each other like friends know each other,” you correct. You can feel her eyes on you but there’s just something about her being so close that makes it difficult for you to meet those eyes, so instead you watch thin clouds slowly drift across the night sky. “But what would your girlfriend know about you?”

                There’s a moment of silence where Lex’s eyes remain on you before she follows your gaze to the sky. “Good point. Hmm…” Subtly, she shifts, leaning into you a little. You chalk it up to your agreement to get more comfortable with casual affection. To make it all more convincing. That’s all. “I’ve got a beauty mark pretty high up on my inner thigh.”

                “That’s —” Well, it’s technically what you meant, you suppose, and now you’ve walked right into Lex’s favorite pastime of flustering you. “I was thinking something like a secret you’d only share with someone you’re in a serious relationship with, but that definitely works, too.” You swallow, intently following the course of a small cloud. “Not sure that’ll come up in conversation, though.”

                You hear her giggle, then feel her shrug against you. “You never know.” You’re about to offer your own piece of information when she speaks up again. “I want to move to California with Hannah someday.”

                At this, you finally look over at her, curious and surprised. “What?”

                It’s her who can’t meet your eyes now. She looks a little nervous, a rare sight for her. “That’s something I’d only tell someone I’m serious about.”

                You furrow your brows. “Why’s it a secret?”

                “I don’t want it getting back to my mom,” she answers with a sigh. “She’d guilt me into staying and I’d just add it to the list of things I hate her for and I’d spend the rest of my life struggling to get by and take care of Hannah.”

                You nod in understanding. Lex has spoken to you a bit about her strained relationship with her mom. Negative parental relationships are kind of your specialty. “Hannah’s lucky to have you.”

                She huffs a humorless laugh, eyes on the pavement now. “I dunno about that.”

                “When things got bad with my parents and I went to live with my grandma, she didn’t have an easy time with it either. She had to go back to work. Wouldn’t let me get a job of my own to help out, though. She wanted me to focus on school, but she also wanted me to be able to stay a kid a little longer, I think.” You smile wistfully at the memory of her. At the feeling of Lex’s hand slipping into your own, you lace your fingers together and try to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. “We didn’t have a lot, but we had each other, and that was always what mattered most to me. The way you are with Hannah… Trust me when I say that she sees everything you do for her. She has a roof over her head, food in her belly, and unconditional love and support lifting her up, and she knows it all comes from you. And it matters, Lex.”

                She squeezes your hand, conveying through touch what she isn’t saying with words. You get it. It’s hard for her to open up like this, even harder for her to accept that she is, in fact, good enough. It’s okay. You’ll tell her as many times as it takes.

                You can tell, however, that she’s reached her limit for this particular subject, so you change it. “My parents kicked me out because they found out about my girlfriend. They tell people it’s because I was acting out, and I… I’ve never really told my side of it before. Not that I’m in the closet or anything; they pretend they’re okay with gay people so it’s not like I’d have to hide it anyway. They just don’t want it under their roof. That’s the part they don’t tell people about.” Your thumb begins to stroke the back of Lex’s hand, your eyes tracking the movement. “So there’s my thing I’ve never told anyone about.”

                She looks at you for a moment. You raise your gaze to look her in the eye, furrowing your brows at the pensive look on her face. “I thought you were straight.”

                Oh, yeah, you forgot about that. You laugh as you jokingly respond with, “I’m assuming the fact that I’m not isn’t a problem, all things considered.”

                Lex smiles, but there’s still something in her eyes you can’t decipher. “No, definitely not.”

                Something shifts, but you don’t know what. Before you can say anything else, though, Frank’s slamming the door open. “Figures I’d find you two out here,” he says disapprovingly, pointing a glare directly at Lex. “Lex, if you used more of your energy on presentation and less on lounging in the alley, I wouldn’t have to re-position all the toys in your section.”

                “Won’t happen again, Frank,” Lex lies easily and immediately as she stands and begins to walk toward the door with you trailing behind.

                When you enter your apartment at the end of the night, you enter it as Lex Foster’s official girlfriend. Lex’s bright idea to post a selfie of the two of you has already garnered more than enough attention judging by the way your phone keeps vibrating in your pocket. Finally, as you settle into your bed for the night, you open your phone to check your notifications.

                Six Instagram notifications, two of which are from accounts you don’t recognize. One like is from Lex’s sister, Hannah, with an accompanying comment that only has a clock emoji. You furrow your brows. What does that mean? Nothing bad, hopefully. You know the relationship isn’t real, but still, you want her sister to like you, and you’d hoped the few times you’d met her at the store had left a good impression. One like is from your friend, Pete. The last notification is a comment from the man this entire charade is for — Ethan. It just says ‘wow’ with no capitalization or punctuation.

                You scroll back up to look at the selfie again. Lex is the one holding the camera in front of you from behind your body, one arm outstretched to hold the phone up while the other lies loosely draped around your neck. With her lips pressed to your cheek and a caption that says, “What I need is the dandelion in the spring,” there’ll be no doubt in anyone’s mind the romantic nature of the photo — especially if they’ve read ‘The Hunger Games’, your favorite book series the one that that particular quote is from. That one was your idea; Lex has only seen the movies.

                You close Instagram and open your messages. New texts from Pete and Lex both. You open Lex’s first.

                [ Lex 11:24PM]: you free tomorrow?

                You’re both off tomorrow. You were planning on getting some schoolwork done, but what does she have in mind? With furrowed brows, you respond.

                [ You 11:32PM]: I’ve got homework. Why?

                As you wait for a reply, you switch over to Pete’s message. Attached to his text is a screenshot of your photo with Lex.

                [ Pete 11:20PM]: HELLO????

                [ Pete 11:21PM]: Why didn’t you tell me you finally told Lex how you felt?????

                You chuckle to yourself, even though you feel a little guilty. You’ve been so wrapped up in figuring out the details of all this, you forgot to tell your best friend.

                [ You 11:33PM]: Because I didn’t. Whoops?

                [ You 11:33PM]: It’s something she asked me to do to get Ethan to move on, that’s all.

                As you’re about to type a third message, a new one comes in from Lex. You click it.

                [ Lex 11:33]: what kind of homework? maybe I could help?

                Arching a brow, you quickly type a response.

                [ You 11:34PM]: Calculus.

                The reply comes swiftly.

                [ Lex 11:34PM]: immediately nevermind

                You laugh to yourself as you type. Your gaze flicks to the incoming notification from Pete, but you ignore it for the moment.

                [ You 11:35PM]: I’ll work on it tonight instead if you need me tomorrow?

                You immediately see the three dots that signify that Lex is typing. For this moment, even though the two of you are miles apart, it feels as though you’re both here in the same space.

                [ Lex 11:35PM]: i do need you.

                [ Lex 11:35PM]: meet me at my place tomorrow?

                You swallow, your face burning. Something about that first text… But no, you know what she meant. It’s an innocent statement. But why the period? Lex never uses those... You shrug it off; maybe it was a mistake.

                [ You 11:37PM]: How does 2 sound?

                [ Lex 11:38PM]: it’s a date ;)

                Oh, that is not fair. Does she really have to flirt with you over the phone, too? Ethan’s not going to be checking her texts, is he? Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to think of a response.

                [ You 11:41PM]: First date at your place, huh? You move fast.

                Smooth. Totally smooth. Nobody reading this would know your heart’s threatening to bust out of your chest. Restless, you shift in your bed, turning onto your other side.

                [ Lex 11:42PM ]: just the way my dandelion likes it.

                Again with the period. And the nickname? That’s new. You’re reminded of the caption you’d chosen for that selfie and realize that’s where she’s gotten it from. There’s a fluttering feeling in your stomach that you’re finding hard to ignore.

                [ You 11:44PM ] I’ll see you tomorrow, Songbird.

                You’re not sure if the nickname will land, but you take the risk anyway. She’s seen the movies, and you’re not about to call her ‘Mockingjay’, so ‘Songbird’ just seemed like the most appropriate choice. It reminds you of the way you feel when you catch her humming — warm.

                [ Lex 11:45PM ]: i like the sound of that

                [Lex 11:45PM]: sweet dreams ;)

                You spend a little more time than you’d care to admit re-reading the exchange before clicking the side of your phone to turn the phone screen off. If you want a free day tomorrow, you need to get to work, which means shooting Pete a quick ‘call you in a bit’ text before getting back out of your bed.

                Tomorrow’s your first official full day as Lex’s girlfriend.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

The Biden administration announced new protections for 1.3 million acres in the North Slope of Alaska, a final effort to shield it from oil companies eager to drill in the ecologically sensitive Arctic environment.

President-elect Donald J. Trump returns to the White House on Monday, and he has pledged to grant fossil fuel companies broad access to American land and federal waters. The new protections, which take effect immediately, create a legal hurdle that could slow down, though probably not stop, efforts by the Trump administration to expand drilling in part of the North Slope known as the National Petroleum Reserve-Alaska.

The reserve is the largest expanse of undisturbed land in the United States. It is an important nesting ground for migratory birds, home to caribou, grizzly bears and wolverines and is an important habitat for polar bears. It also contains large reserves of oil and gas and was created in 1923 as a source of oil for the Navy. Some exploratory drilling took place over the decades but it was largely left untouched until the late 1990s.

Laura Daniel-Davis, the acting deputy secretary of the Interior Department, said that, under the new policy, the Bureau of Land Management would have to explain how drilling in the protected areas would affect subsistence hunting and fishing in the vast wilderness.

The agency also is proposing about three million acres of new or expanded “special areas,” regions that have ecological significance or are used for subsistence hunting and gathering by Alaska Natives. The decisions were based on 88,000 comments from people in North Slope communities, she said.

“I can’t speculate what the future might hold with regard to a new team,” Ms. Daniel-Davis said of the Trump administration. But she said the Interior Department was obliged to act after conducting extensive consultations.

Some of the newly protected and proposed areas are close to the Willow oil project, led by ConocoPhillips.

Environmental groups applauded the move. Erik Grafe, an attorney for Earthjustice, said the new measures “followed the science that clearly shows these areas’ irreplaceable values require maximum protection against harm from oil drilling.”

Republican lawmakers said they would try to reverse the Biden administration’s actions. They accused the Interior Department of laying the groundwork for environmental groups to challenge the Trump administration’s plans to increase drilling.

[wol-fica]

Hi love can you please write waking Tara Carpenter up with oral

summary - ^

an - also for 🧞‍♀️anon who requested oral with any JO character :)

———————————

The sun peaked through your curtains, golden rays of warm light cascading onto your body. You have a great sigh, shuffling in your spot on the bed before rolling over.

Your hand blindly felt around in front of you, a smile coming to your face when you felt the soft skin of your girlfriend. You peeked open your eyes, letting yourself focus on the tanned girl laying beside you.

Tara Carpenter, the girl who stole your whole heart away. She was your sun and moon, the stars that dotted your dark night sky. Her brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, wavy and loose and begging to be played with.

You reached forward, taking a fluffy lock in between your fingers. Her hair was soft, and when you brought it to your nose to smell, her scent was sweet and alluring, making you inhale happily.

You scooched forward, wrapping your arms around her waist and pressing a loving kiss to her warm neck. She hummed in her sleep, a small smile appearing on her face.

Your hands trailed down, rubbing your thumbs on her exposed hips. She wore only white lace panties with a very little covering tank top, and you could see every little divot and etch of her breasts through the feeble fabric.

A small whimper passed her lips, causing you to look at her face in confusion. Her smile had disappeared, contorted into an uncomfortable frown. Her hips bucked in your hands, which made you blush, now realizing what was going on.

She was having a wet dream.

A smirk came to your face, glancing at her locked door before rolling her onto her back. She whined softly, her hips twitching while a patch of wetness was forming on her panties.

You removed the garment, tossing it onto her nightstand before spreading her legs open for you. Her thighs welcoming to you, ready to be parted open so you can get to work at the job at hand.

“…mm…” Tara mumbled softly, her legs instinctively opening wider for you.

You smiled, kissing the inside of her knee before diving in her to wet heat. Your tongue peeked out, licking an exploratory stripe up her length. She shuttered, a shaky breath leaving her lips as she slept.

You grinned, doing the same action again before leaning up to suckle her clit into your mouth. That got a proper moan out of her, her hips bucking upwards. You placed your hands on her, pushing and holding her into the mattress while you pleased her.

A groan pases through her lips, turning into a full brown cry of your name when your tongue slipped inside of her. You pumped it in and out, your eyes rolling at her expensive taste. She was divine, like a strawberry cocktail on a hot summer day.

“Mmph!” Tara moaned again, now in a half-asleep state.

Her hands slid down, winding into your hair to pull you closer. You hummed against her, earning a squeal of approval from above. She was wide awake now, panting and moaning from your mouth on her.

“Fuck…I’m c-close!” She called out, head thrown back while her hips bucked up and down on your mouth repeatedly.

You grinder your face into her, letting your nose rub on her clit before shoving your tongue as deep as it could go. You prodded around a little bit, before finding the spongy spot that made her scream and cry for more.

You started to massage your tongue there, causing her to sob your name and clench down on you. A gush of wetness came from her, and before you could react, her body tensed and she squirted onto your face.

“A-ah!” She cried softly, twitching when you slow dragged your tongue out of her.

“G’mornin.” You said softly, looking up at her with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Hey…” Tara panted back, her hips still softly humping the air, “What a great way to waKE UP!”

You shoved your fingers back into her, causing her to yell at the sensitivity. A giggle passed your lips, your digits pumping quickly to bring her to another orgasm.

“You were having a wet dream.” You told her, pressing feather like kisses to her clit that had her seeing stars, “I wanted to help you out.”

“Fuck Y/N!” She moaned, her walls squeezing and another orgasm hitting her like a truck.

“Good girl~.” You praised, still curling your fingers to help her through it, “That’s it…just relax~.”

Her chest heaved, hands clawing at you to bring you up to her face. You gave her throbbing clit one last delicate kiss before crawling back up to face your girlfriend. Your fingers left her cunt, and you brought them to your mouth to suck them clean.

Your eyes rolled at her taste, her sweet syrup invading your tastebuds. When your eyes reopened, Tara was gazing at you with a dark look that said so many things.

“You’re so getting fucked by my strap later.” She growled before pulling you in for a deep kiss.

Oh how you couldn’t wait….

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