#once again have no memory of my tag system for this blog

[highvern]

Patterns II

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, hand job, dry humping, oral (face sitting), lots of teasing/minor degradation if you squint, overstimulation, breath play

Length: ~9.9k

Note: part 2 is here, let's goooooo! thanks for being so patient and thank you @millennial-fangirl and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing!

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Avoiding Wonwoo post D-Day, as Amina calls it, proves to be surprisingly easy. An entire week of back to back meetings leaves you blocking off parts of your calendar just to use the bathroom. And according to the grapevine, there’s been zero proof of life from Wonwoo’s end either which has caused Mingyu to break out in hives. 

But as the weekend draws closer you’re given the greatest gift the universe can bestow.

“Monday is a disconnect day for the client which means all of us are on black out. No emails, no phone calls, nothing.” Mona announces in the team huddle.

Tears of joy bead in your eyes at the news. However, it's short lived.

“We’ll need to hit the ground running when we come back so make sure everything is done Friday. Even if you have to stay late. Understand?” 

Your laptop pings with a message in the corner.

Gerard: how does she make free PTO sound like hell?

Y/N: i think she said it was her special talent when we did ice breakers at the beginning of the project

Gerard: oh yeah right after she said she hates puppies

Y/N: and joy

Mona slaps her own computer shut, sending you ten feet in the air before continuing, “If there isn’t anything else. We can wrap this up. Shoot me a message if there are any questions.” 

“And how will you be spending your new found free time?” You ask.

Gerard holds the door open as you walk past, “The way the universe intends. In bed, sleeping. Maybe I’ll finally unpack my suitcase from the last trip Mona dragged me on.”

“Wasn’t that like, a month ago?” You ask.

“And?”

The rest of the day is a blur, rushing from meeting to meeting with barely enough time to breathe. It’s only the end of the day that grants you the next glimpse at the world outside the dreary office walls. Albeit through the bright screen of your cell phone.

Once back at your desk, you unlock your phone to find several unread messages. Several from Amina document her jealousy that you and Lisa have long weekends. Lisa offers to kick Mingyu off the long planned trip to the adorable bed and breakfast she found for their anniversary. 

Amina 🍑💗: FREE ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF CORPORATE AMERICA

Y/N: Your honor free her!!!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: Girls trip! Girls trip! Girls trip!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: mingyu will understand 

Y/N: I am begging you to go have gross emotional sex somewhere other than our apartment

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: we’ve done it plenty of places that arent the apartment :) 

Y/N: whore

But a separate thread unleashes a coldsnap in your veins.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): forgot to give these back…

Attached is a photo. A familiar swatch of cotton contrasting with the rich navy of his blanket in the background. His long fingers grip the hem, involuntarily jolting memories of them curled around your body.

Upon realizing you’re sitting out in the open staring at a picture of your panties, you hastily lock your phone and shove it into the deep recesses of your purse. Thank the stars no one else was around to glimpse the crude picture or the sudden sweat along your brow. How dare Wonwoo’s first attempt at speaking to you post hook up be a picture of your underwear in the middle of the work day. Who did he think he was?

Overcoming the initial embarrassment that floods your system, you decide to ignore his bid for attention. If you ignored him then he wouldn’t know the power he held. Plain and simple.

—

The next few days fly past without incident. Wonwoo remains silent and allows you to fall back into forgetting his existence.

As Friday hurdles forward, the usual shenanigans of bar hopping is replaced by plans for a movie night. You aren’t the only one suffering from sleep deprivation; Amina’s job ran her into the ground, and same with Lisa’s. 

The idea fills you with dread, spurred by yearning to spend every moment of free time to catch up on sleep. But knowing your friends, the probability of successfully ditching is on the negative side of zero, especially since you’ve barely spoken to one another all week and they’d both be out of town for the weekend.

The atmosphere of the office is sullen. Late Friday afternoons are reserved for pretending to work and gossiping. Unless you work for your team. In which case, you’ve spent the past hour agonizing over different powerpoint transitions and if they convey professionalism yet approachable.

A throat clearing behind you breaks your trace.

“Okay, I need to go home.” 

Looking up from your laptop, an aura of visible graveness radiates from Gerard. His theater minor really came in handy.

“Why?” You ask skeptically. 

Gerard was nice. But he wasn’t that nice.

“Because I’m already going to be stuck here all night.” He sighs. “And there’s no point in both of us suffering. You have the report ready?”

“Yeah, I just need to make a new powerpoint and get it finalized.”

“Then let me handle it. Mona wants me to re-do the other report you need for the deck so I’ll make it when I’m done.”

Hands moving of their own volition, you shove your scattered belongings into your purse. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He groans. “If I need something I’ll call. Now go. Be free.”

He shoos you without another word, diving into his own computer. Before Gerard can change his mind you’re in the elevator and own your way home.

Thirty minutes later, you find Amina and Lisa already in the midst of a full apartment clean up. A 2000s playlist blasts from the speaker on the counter while Amina shoots daggers at the furniture in the living room.

“Do you think we should move the couch?” Amina shouts at your entrance.

Her lips move but you can’t hear anything over the blasting noise. “Huh?” 

“The couch!” She repeats after cutting off the sound.

You nod before realizing you're still in work clothes. Rushing to your room, you quickly change into something more presentable.

When you return, Lisa is in the kitchen putting away dishes. You and Amina descend on the living room, heads bobbing in sync to the music while you work. Under combined efforts, the space shifts from wild disarray to sparkling clean in no time. 

Moving in sync, you both work to tetter the furniture into different arrangements. It takes four attempts before she throws her hands up, accepting defeat and moving to the counter to join Lisa. You fail to silence a half hearted cheer before flopping down onto the soft cushions of the sofa.

“Who said they were coming again?” Amina asks, her head resting on her arms crossed in front of her on top of the cool marble.

“Mingyu, Soonyoung, Eva,” Lisa pauses as she scrolls through her texts to find confirmation. “Wonwoo.” 

Both Amina and Lisa snap their necks to pointedly look at you.

Much to your own disappointment, your cheeks heat. Avoiding the scrutinous gazes of your roommates, you roll off the couch and busy yourself with replacing the pillows and blankets Amina tossed aside earlier.

“Have you talked to him at all?” Amina questions, walking over to reorganize the coffee table, sweeping their trinkets and books away for the drinks and food that would soon be spread atop it.

“Nope.”

“He hasn’t texted you or you haven’t responded?” Amina’s eyebrows furrow, as if Wonwoo’s silence is the most confusing thing between you two.

“He hasn’t texted.” You lie, pulling at a frayed thread at the corner of the pillow.

Lisa joins the effort, folding blankets and organizing them in piles. “Well that’s lame.”

“I’m sorry? Weren't you the one who threatened to kill him?”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “So? A girl can’t be dramatic?” 

“There’s dramatic and then there’s you.” Amina chimes.

“Whatever.” Lisa scoffs before looking at you. “Wonwoo’s cool but if he ghosted you then he’s a loser.” 

You shrug before responding, “It was just a one time thing. It’s not like I was reaching out to him either.”

“I thought you said he was good?” Amina asks with round eyes.

“He was but it was just a one time thing. Let’s not make it weird, okay?” You wait until they both nod before continuing. “What time is everyone coming?” 

“Around seven, I think?” Lisa throws the question to Amina.

“Yeah, seven.” Amina answers, eyeing the furniture again. 

Glancing at your phone you spot the time, 4:46PM. Perfect. 

“I’m gonna shower and take a nap,” You call, heading down the hall.

Once in the bathroom, you undress as the water warms to a tolerable temperature. Finding it suitable, you make to enter but the dig of your phone distracts you. The screen illuminates and you spot a familiar name.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I was planning on coming with mingyu tonight but if you don’t want me to I'll hang back

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything

Strange as it may be, you're oddly endeared by his consideration. But his last messages sit on the screen just above and cut the warmth short.

Y/N: and yet there’s a picture of you holding my panties that says the opposite

Y/N: im not spooked so easily

Locking your phone, you jump in the shower. The hot water lulls away the anticipation flooring through your veins. It didn’t have to be weird. Tonight would prove it.

The short nap leaves you disoriented but the laughter of friends draws you out from the covers. Bravely, you change out of pajamas into more presentable pajamas consisting of sweats and a sweatshirt. Once settled, you slide into the hall and meet company. 

Turning the corner and entering the kitchen, you scan the group. Eva and Soonyoung sit across the counter, both of them smiling your way. Amina is fussing about, attempting to organize the drinks spread across the counter into some kind or order. An expensive bottle of liquor Mingyu no doubt supplied sits in the middle like a prize, however he’s nowhere to be seen along with his roommate and girlfriend. You try to assist Amina but the space between the island counter and the stove is barely large enough for one body, let alone two. Amina shoos you away after barely a minute.

A trio of voices echo down the hallway.

“Every project he doesn’t want to do just gets thrown on me.” A deep voice complains. “I don’t even know what his actual job is.” 

The timber sends electricity down your spine. You try not to stare as Wonwoo steps into the light of the kitchen trailing behind Lisa. Apparently Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Lisa were tasked with food duty; however, Lisa's hands are completely empty. A stark contrast to Wonwoo and Mingyu behind her balancing several stacked boxes between them. 

You exchange a brief friendly smile with Wonwoo, before he continues with Mingyu. Shoulders sagging, your relief is only momentary. The weight of your friends watching the interaction is unbearable, despite everyone being wrapped in their own conversations. Lisa and Amina argue over the best order to organize everything while Mingyu sets about actually arranging the boxes. Soonyoung and Eva exchange gossip at the counter, their own laughter slicing through the air above them.

Pouring yourself a drink, you snatch the pitcher next to Eva, no doubt containing one of her deadly concoctions. Filling the glass halfway, you take a sip. Fruit and spicy sweetness tingling on your tongue followed by the warmth of cinnamon. The slight burn is masked with a deceptive tang of citrus. It goes down much too easily for the amount of alcohol Eva includes in her drinks. You estimate it’ll take two servings before you’re asleep against the arm of the sofa. Empting the glass, you pour another helping and cast off from the counter. 

Heading into the living room, you beeline for a spot on the sofa before anyone can object. Despite Amina’s attempts earlier, a few people would have to take to the floor and you refuse to be one of them.

“Alright everyone, come eat.” Amina calls in the small space.

You forgo the pizza for now. There would be plenty after everyone settled. Wrapping in one of the large fleece blankets, you burrow down into the sofa. Bending your knees, your legs cross while you lean back into the seam between the plush cushion and armrest, head perfectly positioned to see the television. 

Your cup empties before anyone comes to join you. Lisa and Mingyu squash into the recliner on the other side of the living room, the shabby chair groaning any time their weight shifts. You hope it's enough of a deterrent for their determined wandering hands. Many movie nights had been ruined because of their less than family friendly activities. Amina settles in front of the coffee table amongst the pile of cushions and thick blankets. Eva and Soonyoung curl up on the loveseat against the wall.

Wonwoo crashes down into the space next to you, sending a tight lipped smile at your responding frown. His legs spread apart as he leans forward to eat. Your shin brushes against his thigh through the blanket but fatigue prevents any sort of reaction beyond registering the presence of his body. 

Someone knocks out the lights and your eyes cement shut. The horror movie Lisa chose begins, lights from the screen dancing across your eyelids. It's a shallow rest at best, allowing you to catch snippets of dialogue from the characters and muffled whispers from your friends. But it’s like being underwater, senses dull as you experience it all from far far away.

You even forget about Wonwoo until he leans back into the cushions. The contact from his thigh breaking when he props his legs on the coffee table. A particularly loud scream comes from the TV but it's Wonwoo’s voice that startles you.

“Mind sharing?” He whispers, asking for permission despite already lifting the corner of the blanket draped over your knee.

You shake your head, nuzzling further into the armrest and away from temptation.

Wonwoo untucks the fold of the blanket from under your legs, stretching it across his lap. The heat of his side radiates into you even more. Even in your lethargic state the hyper awareness refuses to fade. It stokes a part of you wishing to move onto his lap and work you both back into the blissful high of a few nights ago. But you refuse to acknowledge the craving to dive into him, press your face into the front of his sweater and allow the beat of his heart to lull you into a rest.

You're fully aware all you need to do to get the first thing is let him give it to you. You were the one who ran away, shunned his attempts for a repeat, ignored him. Wonwoo provided several opportunities for a repeat of Friday night, now it was up to you to accept his invitation. 

But try as you might not to care, the dread of what your friends will think rears its head. It's a cop out; no one really cares that it's Wonwoo, only happy you’re finally getting laid again. 

You need to act before your nerve fades but in a room packed full of watchful eyes you’re unsure how to proceed. Feigning a yawn, your eyes pry open to lazily scan the room. Soonyoung has Eva between his legs, her back resting against his chest.. From where you are sitting it's evident they both have their eyes glued to the screen, Eva takes movie night too seriously to allow any funny business. Amina slouched down enough you can no longer see the top of her curly hair. Cautiously swiping at Lisa and Mingyu, it takes only a second before you look away. Thankfully Eva insists on blasting the TV volume to a deafening decibel. 

The movement of Wonwoo’s chest, lulled by the shallow rises and falls, clarifies in the fliting light of the screen. More memories of flushed skin shuddering with ragged breaths come to the forefront. Following the curve of his throat to the arch of his jaw, you find Wonwoo already staring back from the corner of his eye.

He arches an eyebrow, challenging and curious. It demolishes whatever resolve you possess to not look away. Instead, you focus back on the movie while untangling your legs and resting them on the coffee table next to his, ankles crossing under the blanket. The sudden motion leaves the entire span of your right leg flush with his left, a comforting warmth spreading between the layers of thick fabric between.. 

In the haste, the top of the blanket falls down to your lap. You tug it back up swiftly, wanting the layer to conceal your next action from the rest of the world. Satisfied with re-arranganged fabric, your hand doesn’t return to its previous home in your lap. Instead, it rests in the small stretch of space between you and Wonwoo, allowing your shoulders to brush lightly and her fingers to ghost along his thigh.

The heat of his sideways gaze continues to heat your cheeks despite your attempt at playing oblivious. Shifting closer, you pause; Wonwoo doesn’t take the opportunity to move away. Instead, he presses back. Some twisted part inside your mind relishes in victory.

Wonwoo’s left arm slouches down from its place on top of the cushion, joining yours in the space under the camouflage of the blanket. The back of your hands timidly brush before he extends his arm. It's sweet for a moment; shy and coy. But Wonwoo doesn’t allow you to sink into the gesture because his hand rests on top of your thigh and squeezes.

Thankfully you’re far enough back that no one can see unless they turn their neck so far it almost snaps off. Even then, the thick fabric of the blanket doesn’t give away what's happening underneath. The only clues are your labored breath and the shit eating grin threatening to split Wonwoo’s lips. The two couples on either side of the room are in far more compromising positions but with Wonwoo’s hand so high on your leg, you might as well be nude.

Calloused fingertips begin tracing across the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. Without thinking, your ankles uncross, letting your legs part slightly to grant him more space. A wince escapes between Wonwoo’s teeth from your nails digging into his own thigh.

Wonwoo’s hands are lazy in their journey upwards. Fingers massaging firmly against the supple skin, pulling at the flesh with a fraction of the intensity he’s capable of. His thumb kneads into cords of muscle, working out the knots he detects along the way. When he grazes the edge of the large bruise, you stiffen.

Most of the hickies he gifted that night healed, some already disappearing completely. The one he’s prodding now stubbornly remained, much to your mortification. With the irritated skin still sore to the touch, you were constantly reminded of its presence each time you moved. In your peripheral, Wonwoo turns his head. A downward twitch of your jaw motions for him to continue.

The scene on the TV is almost pitch black, throwing the room into a similar darkness. Wonwoo makes use of the cover and creeps his hand past the waistband of your sweats. He lets his palm rest against the lower part of your stomach, the pleasant warmth seeping in, soothing the nerves. The respite is short lived when his long middle finger traces along the elastic of your panties, teasing the skin under the band.

Sweat blooms on your brow and your breath grows stunted. It's embarrassing how worked up he has you. Barely twenty minutes into the movie, less than five of Wonwoo’s touch and yet the distinct wetness between your legs swells. But rather than relief, Wonwoo waits. And he waits. And he waits.

What is he waiting for? You think.

Eventually the movie will end, signaling your friends to get up. The second any of them spared a glance at your corner of the room everything will become clear and exactly what takes place under the blanket will become easily decipherable.

But there is nothing you can do to make Wonwoo’s hand dip lower and feel the dampness he spurred. Attempting to distract yourself from suffering, you switch focus on controlling your breath. Counting slowly to four while inhaling, holding for another four, and then exhaling in the same measure. Even your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh follows the rhythm. 

Mouth watering at the tense flex of the muscle under your fingers, you indulge in the visual of his room again. This time, he’s in nothing but his sweatpants, shirt nowhere to be seen. Red nail marks marr his chest and his hair is wild. You’re perched in his lap, completely naked and grinding against the evident bulge, dripping a wet spot on to the gray fabric. Wonwoo would watch while you used his body to get off, his hands tearing into the sheets. Fantasy Wonwoo would beg. He’d beg to kiss you, beg to touch you. Nothing like the devil sitting next to you, forcing you to plead for every once pleasure. 

Next time Wonwoo would beg. But patience was never a virtue you took pride in. 

Your hand wanders higher, finding exactly what you knew you would. Everything in you fights against grinning like the cat who got the canary. Despite the fact that you haven't really touched, Wonwoo is half hard. Even more satisfying is how he strains against his pants with only a few teasing passes.

He releases a heavy sigh when you push against him a little more firmly. Breaking attention from the movie, you sneak a peek at his reaction.

Wonwoo’s features are void of emotion. No matching bead of sweat at his temple and the heat you feel on your cheeks fails to present itself on his. Not even a wrinkle across his forehead. He almost looks…bored. It's a stark contrast to what you can feel under her palm.

But then you look closer and discover a discrete clench of his jaw and the minute flare of his nostrils. A glimpse at his neck highlights the stiff muscles, taunt like he’s fighting to break out of his own skin. You can’t stop looking. Subtle as the signs are, Wonwoo is just as much of a mess as you are. The only difference being he’s better at concealing it. 

Wonwoo continues to play with the band of your underwear, content to pull the elastic and let it snap against your skin, providing no solace. It's maddening but gives you a chance to brace for his next move. He really only has two options, pull his hand away and end the game. Or push his fingers down further and indulge. 

When a deafening scream blasts the TV prompts everyone to jump, he strikes. Wonwoo’s fingers wedge in the tight space between your legs. The sudden intrusion makes your thighs clench, a detrimental mistake since it forces the heel of his palm applying pressure to your clit. He wastes no time before prodding against the soaking fabric curiously. Extending his fingers downward, Wonwoo teases at your entrance through your  underwear. You could cry at the relief but control yourself, lip nearly splitting from biting back a squeak. You’d sell your soul to the devil if it meant you could be alone, sitting on his lap as he talks you through it, whispering for you to be good while he stretched you over his cock again and again. 

But that's impossible. So you’ll settle for this.

Your friends are none the wiser while you build each other up under the blankets. When you stuff your hand under Wonwoo’s waistband, you find out he is certainly not wearing underwear. Immediately you take advantage, letting your thumb graze against the weeping tip. The angle doesn’t allow for a smooth so you play with the head, letting catch on his slit to over and over. Each pass earns you a shudder of his stomach against the back of your forearm.

Wonwoo pushes aside the thin strip of your underwear, two fingers tracing your entrance before dipping inside, curling up to his middle knuckle. It’s hardly enough to get off but the threat of getting caught spawns more and more arousal. At this rate, your sweatpants will be sporting a wet patch if they aren’t already.

She’s so fucking wet. Wonwoo thinks, the revelation sending a shot of want straight to his cock. He curses whatever he did in a past life preventing him from hauling you into your room and burying himself inside your cunt until he passes out. The irony of the position isn’t lost on him. Wonwoo waited all week for a green light and of course you decided to give it to him in the middle of a packed room with a dozen prying eyes and ears. But he isn’t one to shy away from a challenge. If you want him to get you off under the blanket, then he’s more than happy to rise to the challenge.

Wonwoo repositions his hand, allowing his fingers to play with your clit, abandoning the shallow thrust at your entrance. When his fingernail scrapes delicately over the bundle of nerves, a whimper breaks from through your parted lips and almost blows their cover. 

The movie, unlike you or Wonwoo, is at its climax. Loud screams and distorted music occupy the attention of everyone in the room. But still, you both pause, frozen and waiting for a sign someone heard. Wonwoo debates pulling away. He’d seen the film before, and while his mind struggles to remember the plot he knows there's simply not enough time left before the credits roll and the illusion is shattered. 

Brain riddled with hormones and lust, Wonwoo faces an impossible choice. Call timeout and hope you’re generous enough to give him another chance. Or, he can make the most of the opportunity literally at hand and pray he’s fast enough. 

He’d already waited an entire week, what was another day? And if he waited then maybe he’d get to fuck you properly, away from any onlookers. Where you can sing all the noises that drive him crazy.

The way you play with his cock makes confident he’ll get another turn; so, with herculean effort, Wonwoo extracts his hand from your underwear, moves it back on top of her thigh and gives a minute squeeze in apology. He looks down at your face, witnessing the moments of confusion. Your eyebrows knot under his scrutiny.

“Later.” He mouths, hoping you’ll accept his promise to finish what was started.

In an instant, confusion transforms into cold rage. Features smoothing, your chin tips in defiance. Wonwoo already regrets his decision, tempted to go right back to where he left off but you look like you might rip his arm off if he tries. You turn back to the movie and ignore his existence. 

The hand in his pants doesn’t leave, and a chill of fear trickles down his spine. You aren’t prone to violence, but having his most prized possession in the palm of your hand, coupled with the sinister coldness on your face doesn’t inspire any faith that he’ll walk away unscathed.

Wonwoo isn’t sure how much time passes before you act. Seconds drag on, forcing him on the edge of his seat with anticipation. The knee closest to him bends, your foot resting on the end of the cushion, providing a tent of space over his lap. A decisive twist of her wrist catches him off guard. The space between his lap and the blanket hides the rough fists of his cock with their friends only feet away. The motion steals his breath; the way you use the slick to slide across his shaft, squeezing tightly to the point stars float in his vision.

With embarrassing swiftness, he’s close. Teeth pinching at his lip barely prevent the grunts building in his chest; praises for the devil next to him dying on the tip of his tongue. Wonwoo’s hips threaten to cant up, matching the rhythm of your hand with his thrusts. The warning signs of his end sizzle through his veins, the fuzzy snaps of pleasure racing up his spine. 

Wonwoo takes one last glance at your face, finding he’s already being watched. His eyes scan the mischievous smirk on your lips and realizes a second too late that he fell right into a trap. Without warning, your hand stills.

You smile sweetly as your hand slips out of his pants, snaking it into the bottom of his sweatshirt to wipe the mess of cum against his stomach. When your hand leaves his body and returns to your own lap, Wonwoo he’s been punched in the gut. 

He has no time to ponder what the hell just happened because the credits roll and Amina is already up and moving towards the lights. Wonwoo rubs his eyes, thinking about anything that will make his hard-on deflate before he has to stand up. Cold showers, old neighbors morning sex routine, getting hit with a car… he repeats like a mantra.

On his left, you hop up, all but skipping down the hall and into the darkness. Wonwoo wants to chase and finish whatever the hell just happened given that his cock is soft enough he can tuck it up in his waistband. But his phone buzzes before he can. The screen lights up with a new message from the minx herself.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

The next morning, Wonwoo wakes with utter disbelief at his life. Your texts burned into his skull.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

Wonwoo: Next time?

Y/N (lisa roommate): you can think of this while you wait

The photo haunted him in his sleep. He stared at it for so long he’s sure he could draw the details from memory.

On your knees facing away from the mirror, your ass is on full display. Wonwoo doesn’t know it is better or worse that you’re lent forward with a lewd curve to your spine. Better because he can see everything. Worse because he received it minutes after you fled to your room, which means the wet cling of your panties to your folds was his doing. 

More effective than the picture is the fact you were all but twenty feet away in the privacy of your room, taking nudes while he pretended everything was normal. The entire time he helped tidy up, the walk back to his apartment, and long before he fell asleep, Wonwoo wondered if you were touching yourself. He wanted to ask; ask if you were thinking about him while you did it and if you weren’t, could he give you something to think about?

But every time he opened the thread to message you his finger refused to type. Wonwoo remembered what it was like to have you on your knees. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. But now he has an idea what you look like from the back and it might end his life.

Instead of spending the night with the subject of his desires, Wonwoo found himself the subject of torture. Lisa came back to their apartment so the couple could leave first thing in the morning to some rural bed and breakfast outside the city to celebrate their anniversary. Apparently, they decided to start their celebration early. Hours of Lisa and Mingyu going at it across the hall stretched on with no end in sight. 

Their usual antics would piss Wonwoo off but he’d deal with it. However, last night it only reminded him how much he is not getting laid and he has no one to blame but himself. Crushing a pillow over his head, Wonwoo attempted to make up for the sleep he is already desperately missing. 

His efforts were hopeless. Barely five minutes passed before he turned fitful, tossing and turning without finding comfort. Every trick he knows failed; counting his breath, meditation, relaxing music, turning off his phone. Nothing works. He gives up after an hour.

When dawn came, Wonwoo’s bad mood set in to plague him the rest of the day. 

Sheltering down in his room, he remains hidden until he is certain Mingyu and Lisa are long gone. When he does finally leave his bed, the choke of storm clouds outside have darkened the skies to the point that if not for the clock on his phone he would think it's closer to midnight than it is to noon.

When he decides to step out to grab food, his mistake doesn’t hit him until he’s already shut the door. 

Wonwoo’s keys are still on the kitchen counter. Next to his wallet. And his will to live. 

Several streets over, your day is going much much better; refreshed from a full night sleep and the thought of what Wonwoo’s face looked like opening the picture.

Lisa and Amina granted clemency last night, cleaning the mess from the evening before abandoning you for the weekend. Lisa off with Mingyu while Amina joined the college friends on their annual retreat (re: party weekend at the coast). Leaving you all to your lonesome for the next two days, nothing but rest and relaxation dancing on the horizon.

The murky darkness of thunder and rain outside the window is staved off by the warm glow from the floor lamp in the corner of the living room and the dancing lights of the TV as a random show whispers quietly. The warm air is clogged with the sweet smell of vanilla and bergamot from one of Amina’s large candles that rests on the coffee table. And bundle on the couch in the same blanket soiled from the night before, you doze off like a house cat. 

A rogue buzzing pulls you back from the shallow slumber, eyes cracking open lazily to search for the device lost in the cushions. By the time you find it, the call has gone to voicemail. The notification on the screen means you must still be dreaming.

MISSED CALL: Wonwoo

A flash of panic tightens your chest. A million thoughts race by, all regarding what could prompt Wonwoo to call you. He doesn’t call you. In the year and a half you’ve known each other there isn’t a single instance of it. The complete uncharacteristic nature of it has you calling him back before giving it a second thought.

“Are you home?” Snaps through the speaker after the first ring.

He sounds pissed. It’s not the usual sarcastic lit that graces his interactions. It’s dry and pointed and already grating your nerves.

“Well, hello to you.” You sneer back.

“Hi.” He deadpans. You can feel the eye roll through the phone. “Are you home?”

“Why?”

It’s 9pm on a Saturday night and both your roommates are out… of course you’re home.

“I’m locked out and I know Mingyu gave Lisa a copy of the key.”

“You’re locked out?” You parrot. It’s not that it’s an impossible situation, it’s just ridiculously unlucky timing.

“Good to know you’re listening.” He bites.

“Actually, come to think of it, I’m out of town.”

“Y/N…” He interrupts, voice clearly exhausted.

Normally, you would goad him until blue in the face. His stunt last night doesn’t warrant patience. But you know he’s had a week from hell too based on what Mingyu and Lisa shared.

“Yeah I’m home. But Lisa took her keys with her so I doubt the spare is here.”

“Great, just fucking great.” He erupts.

You wince, “Sorry.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t respond immediately. The measured cadence of his breath echoes through the line. When he finally speaks again he sounds calmer.

“Not your fault,” he murmurs. “Timing is just shit given the week I’ve had.”

“Your landlord can’t let you in?”

“Not answering his phone.”

“And Mingyu?”

“Also not answering.”

After that, words fail you. But given Wonwoo truly seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, you throw him a bone.

Readjusting the phone on your shoulder, your hands pick at the frayed hem of the blanket. “Look, if you want to sleep on the couch here, be my guest.”

Silence.

“If you’d rather call a locksmith go ahead.” You rush. “Just thought I’d offer.” 

“If you wanted a slumber party you could have told me.”

Apparently, even poor luck can’t prevent Wonwoo from being a complete smartass.

“Have fun sleeping outside!” You croon sweetly, looking for the button to end the call.

“Wai—”

Phone locked and tossed to the floor, you burrow back into the nest of pillows and blankets. Any prior  drowsiness transforms into irritation. 

Less than a minute passes before your phone begins ringing once more.

 It's your turn to snap at him. “What?”

The pause on the other end of the line is heavy. 

“I was being an ass.”

“You’re always an ass.” You respond with a deep sigh.

“The locksmith won’t come till morning so…”

Despite your better judgment, you take pity on the poor man. 

“Come over.” You concede, cringing at the implication of the phrase. Wonwoo is coming over because he’s locked out. Not for any other reason. He’s desperate and needs somewhere to crash until his landlord can let him in.

“…Thanks.” 

The call ends.

Wonwoo knocks on the door twenty minutes later. You can’t believe what you see through the peephole. He’s soaked down to his skin, hair matted to his forehead despite the hood of his jacket. The chill of the hallway makes him shake like a leaf in a windstorm. When you finally open the door to face him, he’s somehow worse than he was through the glass.

If it was under any other circumstances the cling of the hoodie against his broad chest would stir something inside you. But Wonwoo has never looked so… pitiful.

“Oh my god,” You manage, choking on laughter.

“Are we just gonna stand here or can I come in?”

Shouldering open the door, you snicker as Wonwoo steps around. At least until he starts abandoning his wet clothes once inside.

“Wait, let me get some towels.” 

Running to the bathroom, you snag whatever towels can be spared. You catch yourself in the mirror before exiting. Messy hair with an indent on your cheek from the crease of the pillow is the least of your problems. There's stain on the front of your sweater from the leftover pizza scarfed down for lunch and you aren’t wearing a bra. 

It doesn’t matter considering Wonwoo looks like a drowned cat but you’re still self conscious. The best you can do is splash cold water on your face and remember he is worse off than you.

Wonwoo waits right where you left him by the door, dripping more water with each second. His bare chest glistens in the dim light. When he looks up from his phone you chuck a towel at his head. 

“You can wait in the bathroom while I find some dry clothes.”

Wonwoo trudges behind as you lead him back the way you came. 

Once again, he immediately unbuttons his pants without regard for your presence. Deft fingers make quick work. You remember where you are when he goes to force them down.

Wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror, “Staying to watch?”

“I’m just gonna…” You mumble, looking anywhere but at the show he puts on.

The door latch clicks just as the heavy thuds of his soaked clothes land in the sink. Leaning against the opposite wall, your head gently rests against the cool surface. A deep sigh leaves your nose.

You’ve seen Wonwoo naked. Your hand was down his pants less than twenty four hours ago. A picture of your ass lives in his text messages for Christ sake. Seeing him shirtless and wet shouldn’t have you blushing like some virgin.

Ruminating on your momentary lapse of dignity will get you nowhere so you start hunting for the collection of Seungcheol’s clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser. A few months ago the sight would have sent you to tears. Now, it’s comical. The fleeting memory of Lisa’s bewildered face when you choked down sobs after Amina threw out your ex’s toothbrush rears its head. Crazy how things can change so quickly from hurt to nothing.

You're in and out of the bathroom in a flash, collecting wet clothes in exchange for dry ones. Thankfully, Wonwoo doesn’t jest from behind the current.

While he continues to shower, you’re busy with making the couch habitable. Knowing you can’t deal with another of Wonwoo’s uncouth comments, the blanket you previously used is exchanged for the one draped on the armchair. Rather the blanket Mingyu and Lisa sullied than the one tainted by yourselves.

Wonwoo comes down the hallway just in time, toweling at his damp hair. 

“Well, this is it.” You say, avoiding eye contact. “There's a charge plugged in near the TV you're welcome to use. Um, good night.”

“Gonna make me sleep all by myself?” He plops on the couch, arms crossed behind his head. Wonwoo’s too cocky for someone who looked like he drowned on dry land twenty minutes ago. 

Wonwoo’s triumphant smirk doesn’t last when you plop a heavy knitted quilt over him. He scrambles free but you’re already halfway to your bedroom.

Scoffing, you respond,“What? Are you scared of the dark?”

“If that's the excuse you need to come over here, sure. I’m terrified.”

“Awww,” you coo sarcastically. “You’ll cope.”

In the confines of your room, you manage the first deep breath of the night. You won’t be able to sleep. Not with him so close. Not when temptation is just beyond the door and down the hallway. 

How dare he ask you for a favor and then act like an ass. Of course, he’d use something so unfortunate to get his dick wet. 

More steam pours from your ears as you ruminate. Pacing back and forth you scoff at his audacity until it boils over and you're stomping back into the living room.

“You know I’m doing you a favor by letting you stay here.” You fume, stopping a few feet away from where the biggest pain in your ass rests. “I could have let you go to Eva and Soonyoung’s and deal with their bullshit but I didn’t.”

Wonwoo lifts on one elbow, eying you silently. 

Faltering under his gaze, you continue to ramble. “How dare you ask me for a favor and then act like a pig.”

“You’re right.” 

“What?” You choke.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo concedes. 

You falter for a second in disbelief, mouth gaping over silent words. It couldn’t have been that easy. 

“I shouldn’t have believed you giving me a handy meant more than it was.”

Huffing, you stop and turn back to your room. “You’re insufferable!”

“And yet, you still sent me a pic of your ass.” He snorts, collapsing back into his pillow. “Pick a lane, Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Flinging your hands in the air, you return back to your room to stew until morning.

“So that picture was all talk?” Wonwoo yells in your direction.

He wants a reaction and that's exactly what he gets. Pivoting, you storm back in front of the couch. 

“Oh! I’m all talk? You’re the one who can’t even finish what he started.”

“And what did I start?” He sneers, sitting up. 

You know what he’s doing. Attempting to rile you up until there's no choice but to give in. And it’s working. Wiping that stupid smirk on his face is as simple as swallowing his cock until he’s nothing more than a twitching mess. But if Wonwoo wants you, he’ll need to try harder than goading a response out of you. 

Biting back you prod his chest, “Nothing worth my time, that's for damn sure.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, rising to his feet. “Didn’t seem that way last night.” 

Chest to chest, he’s more intimidating but you won’t falter. Instead, you switch gears. Your finger skims dangerously close to the waistband of his pants. 

“I’m a really, really good actress.”

A battle of wills ensues. Wonwoo stares you down, unflinching at your smirk. He’s pissed at the implication. It's clear in his body language; tense shoulders, shuddering breath. 

Your fatal mistake comes when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. The memory of what they felt like jolts an ache in your bones. 

A tilt of his chin is all the invitation you need to drag his mouth to yours.

Wonwoo has you perched on his lap in an instant, legs splayed over his spread thighs and his hands pulling you forward. It's clumsy but eagerness blinds you both to anything beyond the powerful drag of your core hips against the tent in his pants.

Twisting a hand in the short hair at the base of Wonwoo’s neck, you tug hard enough to move him how you want. A throaty moan is the only response he gives, easily following your demands. But the way his large hands grab at the curve of your ass move you how he wants.

He groans into the curve of your shoulder with the next cant of your hips. “God, you’re so hot. Shit.”

Despite the chill that has creeped its way inside the apartment, you’re burning up; skin flushed and hot to touch. The hand not tangled in Wonwoo’s hair slips under his shirt, nails skating up the taunt muscles of his abdomen. His own hands echo the path, finding their way beneath your sweater.

Wonwoo lifts your sweater and swiftly drops it to the flooring, busying his hands with cradling the soft skin he’s uncovered. He leans away to break the kiss, but you manage to drag him back. 

“W-Wonwoo, fuck,” you curse, clinging tighter when he breaks the contact and drops his mouth to your chest.

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, leaving you dizzy and desperate. Head in the clouds, you fold and bend as he tortures your breasts. The rough pad of his thumb leaves goosebumps in its wake, skating across your nipple until it pebbles. One reflex you twist the fist of his hair harshly when he pinches and are rewarded with a moan and rush of his cock into your covered cunt. 

A hot trail of sloppy kisses sends your heart into a tailspin. Wonwoo must feel it with the way he licks and sucks your nipple; pulling until it pops out of his mouth before he leans back to repeat the motion once more.

Eventually, Wonwoo’s borrowed sweatshirt is abandoned on the floor as well but neither of you find the rush present from your previous romp. You follow when Wonwoo leans back, flat against his chest.

Hazy fatigue swells around the edges. The feeling of skin on skin, lips on lips, and roaming hands brings everything to a calming lull. Without the fog of alcohol or the threat of nosey friends, you explore each other with feather light touches that turn into gentle gropes, and hot wet kisses that transform into drags of teeth and lips. From shared exhaustion, running on nothing less than minutes of sleep and a near lethal dose of caffeine, you sluggish trapeze through the motions. 

Taking advantage of the moment, you discover exactly what Wonwoo likes. When you rake a hand through his hair, nails pulling through the damp locks to scratch against his scalp, then Wonwoo shudders and sucks at your chest with more enthusiasm than before. He likes when you bite him, his hips rutting up harshly with each nip at his throat.

Each breathy sigh you release spurs him on. Melting into a needy mess, you can’t find an ounce of embarrassment; even as Wonwoo massages your cunt through your sweatpants and pathetic whimper after pathetic whimper pours from your throat.

Having his focus on you makes you crave him more. A never ending cycle of want. 

“Please,” you beg. The second the word is out of your mouth, Wonwoo is ushering you towards your room.

You trip through the living room with Wonwoo’s mouth still latched to your chest. Pinned between the back of the couch and his body, he sucks until your shoulders cave and you force him from his hiding place. 

“What?” he smirks into your jaw. “What do you want?” His hand sneaks its way under your pants, squeezing a palm full of your bare ass before slipping down further. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He nips at your chin, fingers dipping into your entrance. “So messy for me.”

Your hands scramble for something to comfort from the onslaught. Wonwoo is already back between your breasts, humming around the flesh every time you shudder from his ministrations. He twists his fingers into your core, the noise loud despite the cover of your pants.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you rasps under the prod of his thumb against your clit. Rather than succumbing to the mind numbing assault, you jolt into action. 

Wonwoo angles his hips just right when he realizes your aim. It’s too easy to force your hand under the fabric and find him hard and waiting just like last night. But unlike last night, you don’t have to hide. And the freedom dooms him from the start. 

Anchoring one hand on his chest, you push until he’s upright. He’s a wreck; eyes half shut behind the lens of his glass and lips a delectable shade of red. You pull your hand out of his pants and lap away the evidence of his arousal, delighting in the way a vein on his neck jumps when you give them a lewd suck.

Turning, you saunter down the hallway, shedding the rest of your clothes as you go.

“Coming?” you call over your shoulder, pinning Wonwoo in place as you bend to slip off your sweatpants, flashing him the barest peak of your cunt, before continuing to your room.

You don’t hear him following until you're at the threshold. A rush of footsteps and then he’s emerging from the darkness, eyes taking in your naked form. Wonwoo looks like he’s been starving and you’re the first meals he’s about to have in years.

Wonwoo pins you to the wooden door, one hand finding your jaw while the other bats your legs wide before roughly swiping at your sensitive clit. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear.

Two fingers tap against your lips. Without hesitation you present your tongue, lapping the digits like you would his cock. Wonwoo watches with so much heat in his gaze you can’t stop a moan from slipping free when he puts pressure on your tongue and causes you to drool. He makes to pull away but stops when you grab his wrist and force him in place.

You suck his fingers deeper, eyes never leaving his the entire time. The pressure against the inside of your cheek leaves you reeling. Pure desire inks your brain and makes you desperate. 

Both unsatisfied, you let Wonwoo go. He’s quicker than you imagined. A force full grab of your jaw tugs you away from the door and into his mouth. The slide of his tongue against your own verges on pornographic but you're too busy focusing on the same fingers you’d just been sucking on splitting your folds before stretching your walls. 

Slowly falling to his knees, Wonwoo shoulders under your leg until your pussy is splayed for him to enjoy. The trail of hot kisses across your hip do nothing to comfort you. Not with the swift pace of his hand.

“Are you gonna do something or just stare all night?” 

The strip he licks up your core, tongue flat and heavy, makes you double over. Wonwoo remembers exactly what buttons to push to shut you up, overwhelming you with his mouth and hand buried in your cunt along with the hand continuing to tweak your nipples. 

“Fuck,” you mewl. “You can do—shit—better than that.”

The raze of his teeth on your clit is punishment enough for the outburst. But Wonwoo loves to prove a point. His pace becomes slower than ever, still hard but the tempo of his hand is reserved. It makes you hot all over. Choking on air, your brain melts and bones jelly under the lashing of Wonwoo’s tongue. 

Just as he finds the perfect angle, he falls back.

You snap. “What the fuck?”

He doesn’t answer. Wonwoo pulls away his hand and rises to his feet. Once nose to nose, he smiles. The sudden change is disorienting. Even more so when he leaves a gentle peck against your cheek and heads for the bed.

Perching on the bed, he leans pack on to his palms and presents his lap like a throne. “Come here,” he commands.

Scrabbling into his lap, Wonwoo catches you off guard. His hands strike across your waist as he leans back, shuffling you up his chest until your knelt over his face.

Your hands steady on your thighs, brushing his. In an uncharacteristic act of sweetness, he tangles his fingers with your own. 

The gesture leaves you reeling. “Wonwoo?”

His hands curl around your thighs and force you down onto his waiting tongue. There's no build up, only hunger. Wonwoo points his tongue and uses it to trace hard circles around your clit before suck so harshly you buckle in half. 

If Wonwoo minds he makes no show of it. Instead, he pins your tangled hands in place and licks deeper, tracing anywhere he can reach. Every muscle in your body jerks from the sloppy way he eats you out.

Sweat blooms on your skin. Each breath stilted and you’re drooling when cracks open an eye to take him in. The flex of his biceps when you lurches against a vulgar suck of his mouth. Even the mop of his hair buried between your thighs makes you whimper. 

One hand leaves your, reaching around and pinching your ass punitively.

“Work for it,” he hums into your pussy.

Not needing to be told twice, you rock where your bodies meet. Your free hand tangles in his hair and uses the leverage to grind against his tongue. Wonwoo’s hand continues to follow the curve of your ass until he’s able to tease your entrance. 

Foul noises radiate from where he works you, from his hand and your mouth. Spit and arousal smear on his cheeks and you can feel it against your thighs bracketing his head.

You want to see his face. The heat in his eyes when he’s focused on something, focused on you, making you cum. You pull Wonwoo’s hair again.

“Focus,” His muffled voice is thick and broken, like he’s getting off just as much as you are.

Whining from the vibration against your clit, tears threaten to fall from how tight you pinches your eyes shut from the onslaught. 

“Wonwoo, I’m—” you sob. “Please, fuck. Please, I’m gonna cum.”

The world holds its breath. And then it shatters into a million pieces.

You’re whole and not. No more than a supernova. Whine after whine claws its way out of your lungs until you choke on them.

Wonwoo pays no mind, continuing to work you until you try and fall away. But he expects it, moving with you and staying between your thighs like you haven’t cum at all.

“Too much,” you gasp when he spits on your ruined cunt.

Flashing the pink of his tongue, he sneers your own words back with acidic sweetness. “You can do better than that.”

Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he digs in again. 

It hurts. Wonwoo isn’t easing you into a second orgasm. If anything, he’s bullying it out of you. 

And you take it.

“I can’t,” you plead, dipping your chin to meet his eyes and beg your case. “Too much, Woo. I—”

Wonwoo leans back and slows the three fingers buried inside you. The hand pressed to your stomach rises to cup your face, his thumb tracing the bow of your lips. 

“You can.” He coos. His thumb slips into your mouth a second before he spits on your clit and uses his soiled hand to slap.

The scream ripping its way out is silenced by the digit in your mouth. Wonwoo dives back in, taking zero mercy. Your hips buck into his mouth involuntarily and the bastard laughs.

“See? You want it so bad, don’t you baby?” 

His thumb pops from your mouth but not before you manage a quick nip. The look on Wonwoo’s face tells you it was the wrong answer to his question.

Your breath falters when the faintest amount of pressure ghosts along your throat, waiting for your okay before committing. 

Spreading your legs wider and tucking your hands behind your knees, you nod, “I want it.” 

Pupils blown wide, Wonwoo goes rigid before exploding into a frenzy. 

He sucks your folds into his mouth, hastily laving you in his spit before forcing another finger inside your tight hole. 

“C’mon, you can do it for me. Give me one more.” He demands while coming up for a breath. “Such a fucking mess for me.”

Your hips snap harshly, nails digging into his wrist resting on your chest. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

Feet planting onto the mattress, you rock against his face with more force than before. A cacophony of vulgar squelches and desperate whines fill the room. He squeezes until stars dot your vision from the lack of blood flow only to release with a rush of lightheaded bliss. Using your hands to tug at your sore nipples, you finally give Wonwoo what he wants.

“W-Wonwoo, so good.” You pant. 

He cleans up the mess the same way he made it but with a gentler touch. It doesn’t stop the quivers of overstimulation from wrecking your nerves but he whispers an apology for each one and rubs it into the crease of your thigh when you wince.

With a final peck to your clit, he releases you.

Wonwoo’s chest heaves, eyes drooping in lust or fatigue, you don’t know. Maybe both. When he rises from his spot between your legs, you scramble for his face. Mouths meet in a slow kiss, nothing more than a languid press against one another and a few deep breaths. You taste yourself but ignore it. You’re too tired, too sated, to care. 

You try and palm his cock, eager to return the favor but Wonwoo shifts away. He crowds you up to the pillows, pulls you into his chest, and sends you off to sleep with his lips against your forehead.

You simply lay there, curled around one another until sleep claims you.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho @kyeomofhearts @beananacake

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[twinkboimler]

spirk fic recs

to mark this blog hitting 125,000 posts I thought I'd throw together a fic rec post of some of my favorite spirk fics! There are so many recommendations I could make, but I tried to recommend ones I don't see recommended as often. Fics are included under the read-more, enjoy!

TOS:

These Hands, If Not Gods by greenforsnow (Explicit, 18,200 words). A post-Amok Time fic where Spock is still experiencing plak tow symptoms, and Jim does his best to help Spock out. One of the first spirk fics I read, and I am such a fan of how Jim is written in this fic. One of my favorite takes on TOS spirk, it's an all-time fave

It's Only Art (if it makes you feel something) by Wrath_of_Bones (Teen and up, 24,231 words). I thought the ending of this fic was really lovely. Jim tries to figure out who's been painting a series of paintings that have been appearing in the art studio on the ship. SO much pining. Perched in the Soul by Betazoa (Explicit, 12,847 words). During an away mission, Spock accidentally bonds them together in an attempt to save Jim's life. There is SO much pining and sexual tension in this fic as they struggle to try and keep things platonic despite the bond needing to be consummated.

The Bond by TheVulcanBobDylan (Explicit, 12,371 words). A post-Amok Time smut & hurt/comfort fic. I really enjoyed the characterization of everyone in this, and there are some moments that really tugged at my heartstrings - Spock has so much anxiety about bonding with Jim, and the feelings Jim feels are incredibly human, so real and complicated. So good.

TOS Movies:

Shakedown Cruise by Rhaegal (RhaegalKS) (Explicit, 23,122 words). This fic has a lot of pining and yearning, all as a result of Spock still missing memories following the fal-tor-pan. Jim longs for Spock to remember, missing the relationship he and Spock used to have. Jim feels a lot of hurt; Spock may be alive again, but Spock is still remembering how to be himself. So, so good.

AOS:

And Then I Let It Go by kianspo (Explicit, 10,632 words). The most popular fic on this list. Post-Star Trek Beyond. The crew has a bit of time on their hands as they wait for the new ship to be constructed. During that time, Spock up and leaves, cutting off all communication, and Jim tracks him down. I really love how this fic explores the post-Beyond version of these characters and what they've all just been through.

kuv kath-vuk fator by AgentStannerShipper (Explicit, 56,475 words). An AOS take on Spock's pon farr. So much smut at the end, really need to underline the explict rating and the tags on this one. This fic also has some good Nyota & Jim friendship content that, let's be honest, is lacking in a lot of trek fic. Jim works with Nyota to learn some Vulcan because he's nosy and is trying to figure out why Spock is requesting medical leave (spoiler alert: it's pon farr), and by the end of the fic, him having put in the time to learn the language pays off and makes the final part of the fic super satisfying. Check the tags on this one to see if it's right for you.

Weekend Lover by ValiantBarnes (Cimila) (Explicit, 30,016 words). Academy-era. AU where they have a one night stand in Riverside, and while Jim expects to never see Spock again, once he runs into him in San Francisco, they start hooking up again. Check the tags; the smut in this story is really what's pushing the plot here. Intense and really good, I'm a big fan of the ending to this one, I've read it multiple times.

SNW:

The 1,000 Hour Sleep by spqr (Mature, 27,227 words). I've reread this fic at least four times already since it was published last year. This fic nails Strange New Worlds Jim despite us having him for only an episode, and it's such an entertaining AU: Espionage with Jim as a spy whose path keeps interweaving with the Enterprise and its crew. Jim gets exposed to some radiation that won't let him fall asleep but sleep is required for the radiation to leave his system - this is where Spock steps in to help Jim sleep via a meld. I find something new I love about this fic every time I read it. Additionally, there's some fantastic "crew as family" content, and it explores the family dynamics between Jim and Sam, too. It's such a well-constructed fic, cannot recommend enough.

[sysmedsaresexist]

so i'm new to syscourse (i try and stay out of a lot of online system spaces because i've already been fakeclaimed once and i ain't doin that again) and i wanted to ask- what is a sysmed? and why are they sexist? genuine question here thank you!!

Hi!

First, I'm so sorry that happened to you. It can be such a toxic community ):

A sysmed is a system medicalist. This has SO MANY different meanings at this point that I'm not surprised that people are confused.

For example, I would most likely consider myself to be a pro-endo sysmed.

I believe in plurality outside of CDDs (complex dissociative disorders-- disorders that involve systems, MPD/DDNOS, DID/OSDD/P-DID, etc), but I prioritize and specialize in information about CDDs. I'm psych critical, and have a huge appreciation for the psych system and its potential.

Other sysmeds might think that all plurality is just a CDD (endos have hidden trauma).

Even further along are sysmeds who think that final fusion is the only right way to heal.

Sometimes people get called sysmeds just to shut down conversation. Syscourse is awesome /sar

It depends. Everyone you ask will probably have a different definition. The gist is that they support or embrace the medicalization of CDDs in some capacity. Whether they support plurality or not isn't inherently tied to being a sysmed, though more often than not, antis are sysmeds.

Now for the sexism.

Originally, my blog was purely anti endo, and I posted screenshots of bad posts from Twitter and tumblr. The idea that sysmeds and anti endos are somehow sexist is still, to this day, hilarious to me. That's not how that works. And tagging it MPD, in the great year of 2020 (or whenever it was, what even is time), was horrible.

I keep my pinned post and blog name for memory sake, and my content is for everyone now. I still post bad takes, though. People saying stupid shit online will never stop.

[kirby-the-gorb]

reply roundup!

I guess vaguely once a month is just how these things work now, I do try to read everyone's tags and replies and stuff but a lot of them I just don't really have anything to reply with sorry! as always I appreciate the supportive words and well wishes and stuff <3

I also love the trifurcation of responses to [go to bed]: one group of people is like "yeah u right I sleep now thanks", one is like "sorry but I can't", and one is just like "no! I refuse!!!" lol

I did get two different "posts that have 10k to me" tags though, on [one] that actually passed 10k and [another] that is still barely triple digits and will probably stay there XD

anyway [chess kirb] was on the radar which is neat

also my birthday is this weekend :)

oh yeah and reminder that I also have a craft blog @sleepy-princess-craftery

on [the last roundup] @sacrasm said: oh the clonk'd is just my queued post tag! thr other one is self explanatory he is little he is pink and i affectionately call things freak sometimes (in combination with other words)

ohhhh that makes sense lol it was the clonk'd that I was baffled by thank you for explaining -u-

on [drowsy] @ceylonsilvergirl said: being laid up sick or injured is terrible, but I think we also need to acknowledge that it’s also boring as hell. can’t do anything fun. boring boring boring

it is!!! it's so boring!!! especially since I'm already baseline sick all the time so I have less options to start with, so to do even less than that is literally nothing!

anonymous asked: Gwah being sick sucks. I wish immune system upon you!

thank you! (I think I actually need less immune system? on account of the immune disorder. but either way I do not have an active infection anymore 👍)

on [tumble] @chefwhatnot said: get chucked idiot

where's that post like "'get (blank)ed idiot' is the funniest joke" cuz they're right

on [mask] @macro-microcosm said: glad you're feeling better! i agree that we should all still be masking up, it bothers me soooo much to see that so many people have stopped

like honestly, scientifically speaking it is way more effective and more accessible than just leaning on vaccines, and it protects people from all kinds of stuff not just covid! but nobody wants to wear masks and even people who think they're being cautious just want to lean on vaccine requirements, which is doubly inaccessible for me personally and probably millions of other people :( stresses me out too.

anonymous asked: Magicking you up some new containers

thanks! they didn't have what I wanted at target but we got some usable stuff from daiso, so at least it's not all still shoved in a ziploc bag.

@thewizardgnome asked: But what if I say bye

I mean yeah you can do that too if you want I guess lol

on [paper] @breathelifeintothatsoul said: Cool! I've always wanted to try and make my own (recycled) paper one time

it's fun! there's a lot of extra steps you can add in if you want to, but the absolute basics of it is just dump a bunch of paper strips into a bin, fill it with water, wait until it breaks up enough for your liking, then dunk some kind of stiff screen into it (horizontally) so you can pull out even layers of pulp to dry somewhere.

on [paper] @hermitfox said: oooo making your own paper is do much fun, I have fond memories from kindergarten doing that. ... actually what stops me from doing that as an adult. I should make paper again

do recommend, making things is fun and also good for you :) also the paper pulp is very Texture (affectionate) (to me) (I'm sure to others it can be very Texture (derogatory) but I like it)

on [yarn] @ceylonsilvergirl said: I am very envy of people who can follow a pattern, I can’t do that. I can do a friend being like “Oh this next one is two one two one’’, i can’t translate abbreviations into an idea in my mind. give me a diagram instead

I'm the opposite tbh, I find the abbreviations really easy to follow but looking at a diagram for knitting and crochet just turns into like, visual noise if it's more complex than like, a single fan stitch or whatever.

@my-life-is-a-bad-sitcom asked: You’re Kirby’s are so cool and I love your art style. Honestly awesome. Giving you a standing ovation. 👍

thank you! I love to draw a little guy

anonymous asked: I saw you on tumblr radar just now!! congrats!! -@secondbeatsongs

woah thanks sbs!

@darkchaogarden-blog asked: Tumblr's doing that dumb thing it's been doing lately where I can't reblog anything, so I'll just write to you personally that your art is excellent! Have a good day!

that sounds like such an irritating bug but thank you! I hope you had a good day too whenever this was :)

on [chess] @shiinteractsif said: dudes at the search thingy image. congrats

oh cool I wondered where the radar posts showed up on mobile!

on [chair] @mads-is-tired said: i’ve never played a kirby game but i desperately want to BECAUSE LOOK AT HIM

honestly so valid, he's basically a character brand to me (like hello kitty or rilakkuma). I'm probably biased, but I feel like the best games to start with are either forgotten land (the one that came out on switch last year) or crystal shards (originally for the n64, also available through the nintendo online vc). I think they're the most visually appealing (aside from epic yarn which is not a mainline game) and while they reward exploration they're not as complex as some of the handheld titles to fully explore, nor are they as hand-holdy as some of the other console titles. a good middle ground of feeling like you did the thing, without being frustrating.

on [soup] @give-soup-please said: ME #soupblogging #fucking same

how delightful that this post managed to find you :) these tags make me happy whenever I think of them

on [soup] @lord-chiopet said: me too bud. you too op hope the weather approved

good news, the weather has improved :) now it is overcast and drizzly, my favorite!

on [chess] @wealmostaneckbeard said: Neither of them know how to play so they made up some rules...

what a cute idea! I hope they are having fun with their new game.

on [baseball] @hutbug said: the teal color is called northwest green and we still wear it all the time!! its beautiful u did an amazing job

thank you for the info! before this season I hadn't really had access to baseball for the past like 8 years or something and a lot has changed lol so I didn't really trust my memory

on [blue] @ceylonsilvergirl [added] "I CAN TRY AGAIN TOMORROW! Or next week! or next month..."

that really is the vibe lately huh.

anonymous asked: Your kirbys bring me daily serotonin

aww good!

[multiplicity-positivity]

Hii im a newly discovered system and I cant see into headspace clearly yet so would you happen to have any advice on how to see headspace?

Hey. We’re also a “newly” discovered system (if you count knowing about our system for around 2 years to be new), and the way our headspace works is really complicated. I feel like it can vary from system to system. Also we’re a DID system, so if you’re not trauma-formed, our headspaces may work totally differently. Still, we’ll talk a bit about how we see our headspace.

First of all, I say “we” but I’m the only one in the system who doesn’t have even partial access to the headspace. I’ve seen it once or twice, when a few members of my system worked hard to describe/show it to me, but I don’t really ever exist there. When I’m not fronting, I tend to be suspended in stasis until I front again. That’s just how our system works. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to visit the headspace.

Our headspace consists of a few areas. There is one area which has existed for nearly our whole life. It made up of a pair of houses (the ones we grew up in) and we had no hand in creating it or bringing it about. I guess it works as a visualization tool, but we have lots of parts who are stranded or trapped there, reliving trauma memories and unable to access the rest of us. Through treatment we’re working on understanding this area of our headspace and reaching out to the parts who are stuck there.

The rest of our headspace was consciously created by a few members of our system. It exists as a place outside of the homes we were abused in, so that those of us who are able to communicate with each other can have a space to exist inside that isn’t re-traumatizing. Again, I don’t really go there, but I know enough about it from existing in my system for a while haha.

It was made using visualization tools and imagination. It’s a fantasy, made up of things my alters think about. We don’t view our headspace as a physical place, but to my alters, it still feels like a physical place when they’re there. We’ve always had a very active imagination, so it never really took much work or focus for my alters to put up a headspace.

From what I understand, it started by Kiki and Toby just… imagining what a safe space would be like for us. The more times they imagined the same thing, the easier it was to picture it. Eventually, an area would just stick around, even when they weren’t actively thinking about it. At that point, the imagined idea became a part of the headspace.

Some systems just don’t have headspaces. Some systems have always had a headspace. Some systems have to consciously work to make a headspace. Some systems have a vague or partial headspace, and have to do visualizing and imagining to fill it out. Every system is different, so seeing into the headspace may be a very personal thing for your system.

There used to be a blog on Tumblr that posted headspace inspiration. I really don’t know the @ or else I’d tag them. Using Pinterest and searching for inspiration online can be a great way to figure out what you’d like in a headspace. Then it’s just a matter of spending some time focusing on it, imagining it, and fleshing it out inside. I’m sorry we don’t have any resources on helping you achieve this… but we wish you luck nevertheless!

💫 Parker

[plasticfangtastic]

Can We be Lonely Together? Ch. 12 2/3

A Homelander X Stalker! Reader fanfic

This is a G/N reader but male leaning for crack purposes.

A/N: Part 3 soon, long chapter ahead, part 1 is currently a pin post on my blog as of 30/7/2023. prev. chapters in the #My Fic tag and #can we be lonely together tag on my blog. Thanks to all the ones who have read this.

R18+ S.A and rape mention, child abuse and child death mention, murder. long chapter ahead

Chapter 12 cont.

Entering wasn’t difficult– no more difficult than co-ordinating with The Deep in order to steal a minor dosis of V and placing it in your car the day prior without the boss finding out, clutching at your bag, and the SD card in your pocket you began to re-play a collection of tragedies.

You needed to sell this and as controversial ‘The Method’ acting technique was, it worked in a pinch– these weren’t just enemies of Vought, or Homelander but of all Supe kind. Even on a microdose of V you could suffiencently heighten your powers. Vought had plenty on this group of FBSA contractors, their rap sheet miles long: terrorism, murder, assault, kidnapping, speeding, drug and gun peddling and now social media influencing.

Your escape plan virtually nonexistent, this was a do-or-die situation counting on Starlight having some humanity left… after all she was a Supe too– and that one man might just be pretending to be making exceptions to his genocidal goal.

If this didn’t work out then Homelander would never learn, you repeated over and over drilling it into your skull as you got closer to your goal.

It was for his own good, you repeated.

Welcome by the assault of a bloodtrail of thoughts you shook, gagging at the vividness of it all. These people were brutal, you had resided in carveries, dozens of bodies had gone past you yet their attitude was too much when compared to Dolores and Kent. One so odious and angry you began to reconsider your plan, yet you stepped foot out of the elevator as the ornate doors opened before you.

You had a catalog of tragedies to draw out tears, playing death on command feeling those final memories, the pains of love with nowhere to blossom, screams atop of lungs, and torment and pain of your own and others, you stood in that hallway until your eyes welled up, until your reflection must’ve looked haunting, each step forward meant a death without witnessing your sun once more.

‘Greywal & Co.’ Your hand shaky as it challenged itself to knock– how hard should you hit it? how desperate should you look? did your clothes look composed yet disheveled? How clammy was your skin? Thankfully you’re still sweaty and achy from sex.

Your knuckles hit the door lightly, shrinking, making yourself small, leaving out all of your pesky bravado.

You waited knowing you were noticed but each member grew increasingly silent, looking at each other– who could’ve possibly known their location? Sinking your teeth into your madness, you knocked again.

One already had a gun in his hand as he approached, a tiny jumpy thing, his mind clear but quick, a myriad of narcotics still fresh in his system from last night bender, he opened the door, you made eye contact, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, and his tight bright coloured shirt, he offered a jumpy glare-- this one was a functioning addict.

He opened his mouth speaking with a thick french accent.

“We didn’t order anything.”

“Is… Is…” Your voice so small and breathy each letter caught in your tongue, the man leaned forward to catch your stuttering–… Is William Butcher here?”

His index creeping closer to the trigger.

“I must speak with him!!” Oh that cracking so good you earned your cookie– please…” you pleaded.

As the scene grew, Plan B entered the play– Starlight stood from her desk, narrowing her eyes, it took so much of you not to grin. She moved quickly, recognizing a nobody like yourself; Which made sense considering how the last time you both had made eye contact was back before restaffing efforts in the analytics department.

“You’re from Vought… yeah… I remember you, you were with Analytics!”

“Starlight!?” you took a step back, clutching at the straps of your backpack– thank god… I… I… Please help me.”

Your knees wobbly from before, wobbling at the perfect moment, thankful for the aching on your back and hips.

“I’ll giv’ you one minute of my time, luv– before I ask you to get the fuck outta of ‘ere.” the English man put his boots down from his desk, signaling to the two to let you walk in.

You could see why Homelander found him tantalizing, he was too much of a bad boy, practically screaming that he would ruin you with that somber look in his eyes, but deep down you could tell he was a softy if you dug and hated yourself enough– you could’ve tried that without breaking too many nails.

Marching towards your butcher, you took a SD card out of your jacket cradling it in your palm, swallowing the knot in your throat.

“Nobody at Vought would help me…” You swallowed– I… I don’t want to die… if… if they don’t kill me… he will” Your eyes reddened, lying like this pained you– I-I-I can-can’t do this anymore." you stuttered-- I learned you guys dealt with supes! The cops can’t help me and I'm a nobody so the press would never believe me… the FBSA won’t do nuthin’ about him either.”

He stared at the SD card in your hand yet still uninterested.

“... please… I beg you… please help me” You cried lightly, your whole body shuddering knowing what was about to escape your mouth would hurt him– please…”

“Who's the cunt? What could you possibly ‘ave here that would make me wan’ to ‘elp you? Not even a sob story?”

“Homelander. He… He did things to me…” you cried– I needed to find a way to get away from him… I thought if I found something dirty on Vought or him, they would put me on witness protection or something!! But they will… they will fucking kill me for this! God I wanted to get away from him, not this!!”

His whole body stiffen, your tears far too genuine, their eyes too uncomfortable to look at you for a millisecond longer, exchanging worried glances urging a brave soul to approach you.

Starlight's hand took you by surprise, flinching and slapping it off of you, she clutched her hand staring at you looking like a caged animal.

“So-sorry… I– I– I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Is that true?” the Englishman asked with a low voice, and forced sarcasm– quite the story you got I almost bought it.”

A quiet rage invaded you, furiously unbuttoning your dress shirt, dropping layers in excess, flashing him, his mouth dropped at the sight of a hundred strokes– this was more than he had hoped for, leaving him nothing more to want.

“I’m not lying!!” You growled– does this look fake to you, asshole!?”

Your torso imitated a car crash victim, turning in shame just enough for him to catch a glimpse at the sore bite marks around your shoulders and neck.

“I’m losing it…” you cackled with your sobs– am so fucking dead.”

“Jesus Christ Butcher!” Starlight shouted picking your clothes to cover you– hey! hey come sit down.”

The bastard had actually thought you weren’t his type.  

Turning his love letters into weapons, brought you into a screaming fit of tears, it hurt you, he would not forgive you… he shouldn’t… but… he did it first.

In his desolation he would go back to you, nobody would love him like you, he would understand he could only belong freely in your arms.

Following her to the gross little couch, while making little notes on the names of their family members, passwords, embarrassing secrets– all the juicy things you needed to start Plan R.

A handsome man, the family oriented one offered you tea. Both him and Starlight’s voice were nothing but a buzz, your sight glued on Butcher.

“How did you found out ‘bout me…?”

“You've been after him and Vought for a while…” the crack on your voice harsh– you killed Stillwell… Translucent… Mesmer… the Payback bitches… but  I read that they kidnapped your wife– so I put two and two together and assumed you had a vendetta.”

“What y’know ‘bout my wife?”

“I read she was kept in a facility to help rear Homelander’s son– something about providing a stable environment that supported his emotional needs. From the look in your face I gather I’m not the only one.”

You cleaned your tears.

“So that’s what you found? You think that’s gonna do shite againts them? As if they won’t spin it as my Becca being a heartless harlot who ran away with his kid!”

You were too angry for your own good, maybe just as angry as him.

“ I’m not stupid… I stumbled upon some files called ‘Project Patriot’ and ‘First True American Program’ leading me down a rabbit hole– back in the 70’s and 80’s Vought conducted research using high spec Supe sperm and eggs on… unwilling participants” You cleared your nose, your voice sounding detached– they took runaways and girls from ‘Sage Grove’ to help make what would become ‘The Homelander’… they- they were other kids… he was the only survivor. His mother… she was found a few weeks ago… she was a missing girl called Frida Gillman…”

You looked up, clearing your nose loudly. The Englishman gave a commanding look to his group, the tall black guy did a quick google search on his phone, the first result was a youtube video talking about old unsolved mysteries finally solved, it seemed for many years Frida had had a following in the true crime community.

Showcasing an old grainy picture of Frida, both men could immediately see the family resemblance.

“How confident are you that you don’t got the wrong girl?”

“He killed her in front of me. He… he found her… I have the autopsies pictures too… it…”

“He laser her brains off?” He scoffed, for all the bullshit talk he had in front of him with Soldier Boy… that had been rich to hear.

“She looked the same. She didn’t age a day… I think Vought briefly considered using her to make anti-aging face cream… he didn’t like that.”

The lab had been repainted after you whispered it to Homelander.

Butcher took a seat across from you, already finding twelve different ways to kill you before his men could stop him, disliking the tone of your voice far too much.

“Kept goin’’”

“The American program…” You took a short sip of your tea, never lifting your face for too long– they collected his kids, he told me once… he thought he… he couldn’t make babies… Vought lied to him. Something about his DNA, basically fused with Compound V! So his offspring would always be born natural Supes– in theory… so they took the kids and put them in Big Brother’s house… forced the moms to agree to the experiments once the kids showed powers– if not dispose of them and continue without them.”

He could smell the pretense in your delivery, he was sharp, you liked the challenge strangely enough, it made your heartbeat jump with excitment.

“His son… Ryan… he seems like a good kid. As much as I hate him… as much as I wanna see Homelander dead… I cannot be the reason an innocent child goes through what they did to him and his kids.” You whimpered– The things… you can’t even imagine the things they did to him and those kids!! They were babies!! Like how can anybody do that to a child!!? You wouldn’t even do that to an animal!! I saw a fucking toddler be hit with a sledgehammer!! Shot at! Poisoned! Drowned!! I saw his kids being hooked to generators!! Have you ever seen a kid's eyes bursting!!!??” You stood up, your skin turning green. This couldn’t be faked– have you ever seen what happens to a body after it experiences a sudden atmospheric pressure change? not talking scuba divers… talking submarine chambers.”

You plop down, sinking in the leather seat, holding your clothes in place, watching their disgust and horror. You offered the SD card, the man struggled to take it off your hand, thinking of how dead he would be as if wasn’t already on a timer.

“– Vought has too many ears… after the V scandal… and I can barely get away from him…”

You could practically hear the victory bells, with clumsy fingers you took your phone out, the burner one that only served Roman. Too many selfies of you and Homelander, too many short texts between you two on your current phone.

“Wait you walking ‘roun with that shite on your phone!?”

“Well if he kills me, maybe the cops would find this in my phone… I… I was sort of counting on Homelander just not caring to check.”

You played a single video, a little blonde kid no more than eleven sitting in front of a row of shot glasses, a younger Jonah Vogelbaum sat beside him holding a bag of Peach gummies, for every shot the kid took he earned a gummy and a pat in his head, it wasn’t until the third shot glass when the group that had huddle around understood what was taking place– as the boy spat furiously, droplets felt across the metal sizzling whatever they touched, the kid crying with a painfully hoarse voice that it burnt too much. Vogelbaum stood up offering a single candy then forced him back into the chair, telling him that he shouldn’t cry, that he must do this for him if he wanted to earn this week’s reward.

The kid cried slowly, calming down as he took the next cup, snot covered bright red lips and cheeks as he tried looking strong for Voguelbaum.

“It goes on for five minutes.”

“Is that Homelander?” The lanky white boy spoke nervously.

“Yeah… that’s not even the worst… even if you kill me for the files only I got the password and good luck cracking it. I’ll give you the files if you can get me protection…”

“You think you can run away from him?” Asked the englishman– "can't even get rid of him now– those bruises look fresh.”

So here you could tell more awful lies, little tears soiled your cheeks, he just simply did not like you, not liking that you now held their price hostage, but it didn't need to turn bloody.

“I liked him… but one day he got loud, he scared me… and since… no matter what I did he would just get more angry. Before I knew it… he did this to me, and if I cried he would get worse… I… I want him to stop but am just a mudperson.” Starlight tilted towards you at the mention of that word– Nobody can kill him… or lock him, there is no prison built for him… but if Vought dies, if there’s no more Vought then there’s no more Homelander. He seems like the kind of guy who would kill himself if he found out about what they did to the kids… Even if I don’t make it… I could be okay with that if that meant Ryan would be safe– Let me at least go to hell with one less sin.”

He briefly considered torturing you to get you to reveal it was an act, but watching you, watching this divine offering, knowing this would never happen again he had to agree, Homelander would kill you, watching the look of anger and defeat brewing reflecting of your face, his walls began to crumble. He hated Homelander, watching that clip didn’t change anything but Ryan remained… The thought of his Becca forced to agree, to comply as they forced Ryan to drink acid– Butcher imagined the same scene, his wife holding the gummies in place of Jonah encouraging the small kid to take another sip. His stomach churned.

“I can make some calls to the FBSA…” he muttered, his mind in another timeline.

“The one run by the head popping presidential candidate?”

“How do you—?” asked Starlight.

“He talks… I think he thinks I'm his therapist– he says a lot of things… as if nobody ever did so much as pretend to listen. He was nice…” A saddened smile unnerved Starlight– a guy like that doesn’t look at somebody like me– it wasn’t hard to like him. It was hard to learn he was a monster… he says a lot of things. Too many. ‘bout the company, ‘bout himself, ‘bout the people who serve him.” You looked up– you. That’s how I learned your name… you’re the big bad wolf trying to blow his house of straws.”

He chuckled.

“So he kept comin’ back because yer a good listener? Give me a day and I can reach some contacts in the CIA that might be able to get you out the country– can you survive until then?”

“Don't have much of a choice.” You wrapped yourself in your clothes properly this time, your eyes sore from all the tears– the kid… the kid will be alright, no?”

“We’ll do everything we can to help you…” Starlight spoke, her hand sticky on your shoulder– you can trust us.”

“Certainly hope so. I can’t wait to get the matching set” You hissed scratching at the bite mark on your left shoulder– thank you…”

“Have to ask… what’s your name?” William asked– for the paperwork of course.”

He still didn’t trust you, good things don’t come this easily, these were jaded people but your carrot was too big and tempting, he had no qualms killing you, he had no issue with Homelander knowing this address, for he seemed far more interested in playing house and running Vought to the ground than to pay him a visit.

You gave them your current cover… only Homelander knew your real name.

You had liked that name, ideally it would be replaced by his last name, you watched him grin and offer you a tissue, the french man telling you where the bathroom was so you could wash your face. They wasted no time aiming for a background check speedrun world record, your name led them to various social media accounts, your usage was sporadic but consistent on topics, even a personal update about starting work at Vought, soon after that you posted less and less. 

They could possibly find everything about you, all the fake shit you carefully build, and if they had weeks they could possibly find the new one you’ve crafted to get away from Roman earlier on. With their CIA connection as limited as they were, it wouldn’t be impossible to uncover your many past lives in time, at least your original self, that have once been sealed in the Vought records of your Pusher days were permanently deleted.

As your face dried your phone chimed, a short  message: ‘Can’t you come back early? Babe, I want both you and Ryan to meet the surprise. Oh and should I get some from that cake shop in Sydney? the one you like??’

You looked around knowing nobody had come close.

‘Get the lemon pistachio. I can be there at 4. will try to finish this quickly tho. Luv u.’

Starlight was quizzed on who you were, she mentioned noticing Homelander descending to the lower floors, but she was more busy about everything, after all you had arrive on her last weeks of work soon after Edgar stepped down, you didn’t stand out but she saw you– after all there were only like five people down there.

You re-entered as M.M. lowered his computer screen, heading towards his desk you handed him the SD card.

Clutching at your bag straps, looking wounded and exhausted.

“How do we know we can trust you? Maybe I believe you or maybe I don’t, luv.”

He was going to give you a final jab.

“Margaret and Elena recently purchased a homestead… 8 acres of land down in Colorado and are rearing llamas for fur… I could’ve given Homelander her address, phone number, new social security number, the license plate to her blue 1999 Chevy Silverado, even down to the last thing she ate at Taco Bell last saturday at 4:33 pm based on her Bank of America account transaction. I also know she texted her three days ago.” You pointed at Starlight– If I was your enemy I would’ve gotten her killed. My supervisor deleted the footage of a van picking her body but she missed one from a Ring doorbell camera one store away”

You showed him the clip, different angle, dark but obviously them.

“Trust me or not, don't care… just help me get away from him, if I had contacts with the CIA I would’ve tried running away on my own, but the worse part about working for Vought is that the people in my department are fucking good at their job. Call Maeve if you like to confirm she’s alive, if you want.”

The room tensed.

You took a couple steps back, your phone ringing and ringing, you had said no and even if your message was reasonable, it didn’t matter.

The more it went on the more you could sense this ending very poorly.

“That’s him, Isn’t it?” Hughie asked.

“... the password is ‘limerence’ no caps… I… I have to go.”

The phone kept going and going you stood there for a whole minute while it rang incessantly, taking a deep breath, you began walking away.

Your eyes, two whole red saucers, the french man followed you to the door, watching your eyes welling up, your arms trembling as you took the phone to your ear.

“You answer when I fucking call you!” John shouted into the phone, making you jump.

Loud enough they could hear his unmistakable voice echoing down the halls.

You ran for the stairs, knowing there was a camera set up, looking down as you heaved in your sprint. M.M. looked at the security feed watching your jacket fade as you run and seemed to apologize.

Hughie took an old computer from one the many filing cabinets, if anything was to be destroyed by a virus it wasn’t going to be one of theirs, there was no denying those bruises in your body, Annie had winced, her sight fixated on each patch of skin and its unsavory coating– some fresh some ancient, some barely there until the light hit it just right, all your wounds in spots that your clothes could cover, it made her stomach churn thinking of what he had done to get you like that and even as you runned down the stairs you could hear them so clearly.

The SD card opened up displaying three folders within, Hughie and company tried typing the password on all of them, getting lucky on the last one.

Inside hundreds of files, documents, images and videos on ‘Project Patriot’.

Even as the city grew sleepier, they were fixated on the screen, even without the other folders, even without anything else– Vought could be done for.

It left a bitter aftertaste… he lost sleep watching recordings and recordings of nameless kids, fading from history, kids that had never formally existed outside of God’s gaze.

Just overwhelming misery.

Inside that now emptied office, he took a cigarette out to the sounds of a little boy taking an oral test, a light stutter had to be eliminated out his mouth, made to read out loud passages from some American history book, made to repeat everything if the stutter presented itself watching the child grow more stressed and embarrassed.

He was living on borrowed time, he considered for longer than he could afford to do.

“scorched earth” the smoke drew swirls in the air– what should I do Becca?”

Homelander's nose and ears ached, the thought of taking another step inside this shelter was genuinely agonizing, the excitement, the fear and fecal rainbow of the four-legged beasts all around, smacked his senses.

This was quicker than getting one from a breeder, it would look good for his new fanbase-- he was told, the lady's jittery motion gave him a headache– shut up!! He wanted to scream as she spoke non-stop leading him to the cattery, rows of stainless steel boxes… cages… rows and rows of cages. 

Not even enough space to walk away from the litter box, his tongue dried thinking of his own cage, the latrine always visible.

“This donation truly means a lot to us, Homelander, sir.” she said excitedly.

 A hundred-thousand dollars was chump change to him– a lot for this independent shelter, watching these tiny cages he might double it on the promise they would make them bigger.

Rows of kittens and cats mewl and screamed, too many noises, too many smells, it was dizzying, he had to hold unto Ashley’s shoulder as his ears were assaulted by screams and purrs, hisses and yowlings, barking, and scratching, this place was a violent, his chest tightening as his ears ached– his eyes pressed tightly. John’s mind was so quiet, his brother still ignoring him squeezing his knuckles until they cracked. Homelander gave the room a quick glance, picking a random cage that housed two older cats.

These creatures screamed the loudest, demanding to be seen.

“Oh those two they were surrendered to us last year… not a lot of people want to take older cats, much less bonded pairs.”

He read the tag, a pair of seven and ten year old cats– a brother and sister. The brother a fat slob of a beast, its long fur made it look like a scraggly cream coloured cloud, its whiskers just as long and curly at the tips, its nose too long and its eyes big and green while his sister a skinnier but not by much… still more fur than it should have, just a boring brown mackerel.

“We’ve been trying to get them to lose weight but they aren’t very active during playtime, still lots of improvement from last year.”

This was just to make you happy, they would only last a couple more years and by the time they died you wouldn’t want more. Ryan would get the pet experience but as most children he assumed he would grow disinterested in a couple months.

“Do they get along with dogs? And kids?”

“Kids, yes!! Dogs not big ones” she blurted, already opening the cage– want to hold them?”

Forcibly smiling, he took the fat girl, hefty, she talked displeased, just blubber and fur, the lady made a motion encouraging Homelander to press her against his chest, chirping and chattering, the eye contact was intense, as he wanted this weird tuna smell away from his face and the cat was clearly puzzled by his presence. Its tongue was so strange, he flinched lightly as the animal licked his nose, sniffling at his face.

From the cat's perspective the man had no aroma, nothing but a fawn wearing human clothes.

“Perfect, I'll take them!” he handed the creature back– my boy cannot wait.”

“well… sir… we usually have an interview pro–

“I said I’ll take them– Ashley give the lady her check!”

An assistant handed him a cartoonishly large check, this was after all going to be a PR opportunity at least. Ashley, still processing what was happening, all she knew was that after a light lunch he came and ordered her to get this organized.

He waited outside the cattery texting you and getting nothing, he was inside this place for you and now you didn’t answer inmediately.

He shouted.

“Sorry!! Trying to organize some ingredients for Dolores she needed my help!!” 

“What's with your voice?”

His anger melted instantly.

“I’m running down the stairs!!”

“Are you okay…?”

“Yes! I just don’t think I can talk with you while they’re around– I’ll call you when I can. I love you.” 

Hanging only made it worse.

Three floors under them, you are still close enough to listen to the French man, his knowledge of chemistry inspirational.

Homelander entered the room again to get a photo taken with the cats, each animal more displeased than he was.

By the time he made it back to the tower, he searched for your heartbeat.

Still not there, but Ryan was busy with after school activities, and going to the library with his buddies Jaythaniel, Haoran and Oaklynn to do their homework.

He watched the men set up the cats' stuff, Ms. Cha making sure they didn’t leave a mess, cursing in Korean how the cats were going to make her work more than she ever had yet still throwing them an adoring look.

He sat on his couch after letting the cats out, not paying much attention to what they were doing.

“Ms. Cha, could you keep an eye out for the cats? I still need to run some errands. If Y/N gets home don't let them in until I get here.”

Never in her twenty years of working for this man, had he ever called her anything. Assumed the hero didn’t even know her name... much less she existed.

Running across the city looking at your phone for the time, you jumped on the subway until you made it to Dolores's restaurant, two staff led you quietly to the back as the lunch service was still happening. 

A young woman shouted commands in code, the staff moving like extensions of their voice, Dolores examining each plate before a waiter took it, she had no need to taste for her nose did all the work, she pulled her second in command and placed them in charge walking away for you to follow into a cramp fridge.

“Supe.”

“Soup?”

“I can get you Firecracker for the next epulary.” you bluter excitedly.

“Get out of here.”

“Her editor and script writer lives in Queens… She goes every Thursday to her house for wine and discusses the next episode of their podcast. Vought might be running the show now but she still needs her best friend’s input.”

She looked at the labels around.

“How are you going to do it?” She moved the trays around dictating freshness thus urgency– she got bulletproof skin.”

“Tetrodotoxin… a couple drops in her wine”

“I can get you some puffer fish by tomorrow. I know that on a normal human the meat will be useless but… a Supe like her… am curious.”

“Her friend is a supe too, they met at Godolkin their power is stupid– X-Ray vision but overall normal.”

“Don’t get me too excited, babygirl.”

“I’ll deliver it in two days then, just need to get away from John for a minute and you do your part, right?”

“I’ll have the clean up crew just text me when you’re on your way. And ‘John’? Oh… not just Homelander this time.”

“I think he was gonna buy a cat for me.”

“Jesus christ what did you do to his dick? Any tips?”

“Just gotta suck it like you’re a repressed middle aged man with two kids and a wife at a dingy truck stop gloryhole.”

“Damn.”

“That or just tell him he is a good boy.”

She opened the door with a wide smile, jumping at the thought of tasting Supe meat again, it had been a long time since you guys met and you’ve help her..

“Oh I gotta make dinner… Can I?”

She lowered a tray of porterhouse angus for you.

“I take this as my advancement.”

“You should take our mash potato and brown buttered carrots– I’ll have them pack you some”

“Oh I got this Cassolette recipe I just stole from a killer”

“How good?”

“Remember Lil’ Nina from the Russian’s?”

“Oh the one she tried having me make? and who fucked us over with the Czech back in the day.”

“That one… small world indeed.”

“Fuck the angus take the dry-age wagyu.”

Time slips away but it's still four o’clock but shy of 5, by the time you rushed past the security check he was already waiting for you, dozens of eyes looking at you.

You lifted the grocery bag.

“You’re late.”

Still a quarter to five. He looks lost and upset, trying to keep composed in public.

“My apologies sir… I had to take the subway.”

“Your car doesn't work?”

There’s many people around you to speak comfortably.

“Sorry, I thought it would be quicker if I didn’t drive, sir.”

You looked away, clutching at your belongings, his glare was not worth the Uber ride you paid to get here.

“I’m going to go get Ryan from… whatever the fuck their names are… you don’t go inside until am back.”

“Jaythaniel, Haoran and Ooklynn.”

“What?”

“Those are his friends' names. You like Ooklynn, she is a well behaved one.”

“Those can’t be real names…” he softened his posture, taking a fancy paper bag from behind him– we’ll talk later.”

Seeing him take the front door out was a terrifying look, you stood there for a couple minutes trying to understand what just had happened, his mind had been so quiet.

The ride up was uncomfortable, the walk home just as bad.

“What did you do to him?” Ms Cha asked, already waiting for you outside– "I had it easy for years and now you make him give me more work!”

“I clean up after myself.” you defended.

“He has lost his goddamn mind.” she blocked the door– not allowed until bossman comes back.”

“How pissed was he?”

“Quiet. Just looks ready to kill somebody for the hell of it.”

“We both know that doesn’t narrow it down.”

“Not murder for funsies but premeditated.”

You both looked defeated just standing in awkward silence.

“Since when does he take the elevator?” Ms. Cha nudge at you, waking you up.

“It was nice knowing you.”

Ryan shot you the same look Ms. Cha gave you before, John's brows just buried enough yet not touching, his lips a thin line and he was looking straight at you without much blinking, the thrree of you huddling together as the door opened.

“Go in! come on.”

Ms. Cha bolted out at the opposite direction, she was not going to clean that up. Ryan wondered what could you’ve possibly had done, for him to be so absentminded when he picked him up, there was no urgency this time… heck he would had agreed to stay there for an extra 10 minutes without complaint.

It didn’t hit you at first until you noticed the cat tree by the window towering over the living room, and a child squealing as he spotted the two cats hiding under the coffee table.

“Toaster and Blender.” he gestured towards the worried cats– now you and I let's go to the kitchen for a chat.”

“You… You… oh my god…” 

Fuck him, you ignored him live this time– you jumped after the cats, Ryan aready snatching the fat tabby the moment it lifted its neck out the table, taking the other and squeeling like a lil' girl.

“I love it… oh my god you are so cute!! Can we keep it!?”

“Dad are we keeping them!!?

A thousand yard stare cemented in his eyes, underestimating the power of cats had in people, even Ashley had cooed at the critters.

“Yes. But you two have to clean the litter boxes.”

"I love you, Dad!!"

That conversation did not take place until after dinner, something about childhood excitement being shared by you two was far too overwhelming and hectic for the already stressed hero, you washed dishes as Homelander entered the kitchen.

“What was that today?”

The cats eat by the entrance, and it seems that wet food alleviated all their anxieties, specially at 4 dollars a can.

“A lot of mob front restaurants use high quality ingredients– I was organizing something for Dolores' private Epulary.”

“Bullshit.”

“Look I was in a room full of mobsters who could’ve killed me before you broke their door.”

“You could’ve called me later.”

“John. I’m Sorry but I was busy–

“I did that for you!” He pointed at the cats– what else do you want!? You’re still ignoring me! Acting distant– like what the fuck!” He shouted sounded more wounded than angry, exasperated in his panting.

“I wasn’t ignoring you, I was busy! I told you I was going to be busy!” You dried your hands, bothered that he was in his suit– I was hunting!! God fucking dammit John I been tagging these two whores for days!!”

You threw the towel.

“Hunting?  Wait you– you’re still killing people?”

“Not since you and I. God I thought the drugs made me happy but… ” You slumped onto the kitchen floor, just letting your legs give up– I need this. I need it… this is a different sort of adrenaline than sex or drugs and I like it. Oh god I fucking love it– I didn’t think I actually did! and you kept coming home covered in blood like you’re rubbing it in my face that I couldn’t!”

He stood frozen, his chin tucked, looking down at the mewling cat as if it asked him if they both heard the same thing.

“I love this. I love you.” You whined– I love domesticity but god I need to feel high!!– I don’t mind it, I am stressed and I haven’t hung out with my bestie in a while, either. Look, I'm just gonna kill these whores, have a girls night and then I’m all yours… is not fair you get to have all the fun.”

“Oh. Pumpkin you could have said something– communication is key to a successful relationship!”  There he was signing with relief blowing raspberries trying not to chuckle– "If you needed it, you could have asked me I could’ve brought you somebody!”

“No!” He looked offended suddenly– Look. Is the hunt that makes the kill fun, the trailing, the selecting, the ever fluctuating levels of difficulty… you do this in perpetual ‘easy mode’-- I don’t.” You smacked your head back– I got these girls, they got lots of friends, close family who will notice the moment they are missing, full-time work with lots of close colleagues and dependants… when girls like that go missing and nobody ever finds out what happens– that’s my bliss.”

A few red flags waved in his head but he ignored them because at least you were being honest with yourself and him, your speech back during your first fight must’ve been denial he thought.

“As long as you see their beady little eyes cloud–

“Boring!” you sang.

“Thought you hated it.” he picked the cream feline– Poor Toaster had to hear us scream.”

He takes his place beside you, cat still in arms.

“Me too. You remember the cat’s name before your own kids bestfriends?”

He had no reply to that.

“Why kill people for dinner?”

So he didn't.

“Rich fucks pay a lot of money to see pretty girls murdered while they eat spaghetti… they bid to select the method.”

“Can I help? I mean if you needed to kill people you could’ve asked me instead of being a bitc– being so mean to me.” He caught himself but you didn’t mind his slip.

“Maybe next time…?” you bit your lips– I was worried that if I was embracing this side of me… you… would be grossed out, and you wouldn't like me anymore.”

“Babe. Pumpkin.” He cooed, He kissed your temples, nudging closer as he softly petted the cat’s side– I said I would take all your bad… I bet you would look so beautiful covered in blood.”

“You certainly do.”

You took your phone showing him a picture of Firecracker’s friend.

“She has lots of followers on Instagram… and her feet pics sell really well– just look at that ass!”

“Wow! You think is better than mine?” he pouted– I bet she would even look pretty when you kill her.”

“Oh fuck no, Your ass could cause an earthquake with that bounce.” you kissed his chin laughing into him– I’ll take some pictures for you, if ya like…?”

You purred, he pictured your tasteful nudes arriving in the middle of a meeting, seeing your sensuous shape covered in this cheap whore waiting for him to clean up.

Oh there was a prideful glimmer in his eyes, his hand stroking the fur– addictively soft, there was a lot of fur throws around the house, perhaps in the recess of his mind a deprivation of textures had brought a subconscious fascination with fur, he mindlessly stroke the feline and you wondered if somehow your powers had influence his decision, this cat looked somewhat like his mother’s– the cat began to purr, and you both sat there looking at the overweight animal as it nestled itself comfortably in defeat.

Your cheek resting on his arm with an eagle picking at your scalp.

“Ooklynn is not a real name.”

“Well her parents are white… her middle name is Meribeth if you prefer.”

“Becca did right by calling him Ryan. Ryan is nice, simple, easy, perfect.”

to be cont.

[batwritings]

I felt that sm. When I used to write for Philza, I would pretty much rely on this mf to tell me what to do.

Pokemon Scarlet :000 I've wanted to play it but I haven't finished Arceus so I would feel bad if I bought it.

Also also! I have a request, of fluff, because I just very much enjoy fluff. So, I did check your 'okay with writing' list to check, but just incase feel free to ignore. But how about XD with a partner that has a dissociative disorder, and how he reacts?

-🃏

It's kinda nice at the same time because like, hi you know your body? You know what people might like to read? lol I know Schlatt actually nabbed the front from me and wrote something on this blog. I think I tagged it with "bat's system writes" if you wanted to read it lol

That's exactly how my partner is! He adores Arceus, but has yet to finish and doesn't want to start Violet until they do.

So, bear with me on this one, but these will be somewhat based on my own experiences (and interactions with an XD fictive lol), so they may not be concurrent with everyone else's! Enjoy!~

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

When XD first noticed you dissociating, one could certainly say he was concerned. You were virtually unresponsive and the poor god didn't know what on earth to do. You had to reassure him later on that this was actually a pretty common occurrence for you.

You sat DreamXD down and ran through what he could expect, especially when it came to your switches. You couldn't help but chuckle as he watched you with rapt attention. You swore, if his memory wasn't as good as it was, he'd be taking notes mentally.

The first few times he ran into another alter, there was a lot of confusion. The SMP's creator couldn't figure out why you were being so cold to him despite your relationship. It took the blonde a moment to recall your previous conversation, asking if the person who was now up front knew you.

Conversation ran from there, and over time, XD came to adore most of your entire system. His favorites were your littles; he loved their zest for life and joy they got from the little things he would create for them. The littles enjoyed him just as much, being the first people to go to him whenever a trigger arose.

Another habit DreamXD picked up extremely quickly was note writing. Usually he would simply leave a message for you, but it became a lot more common for sticky note upon sticky note to be found around your home. "I'm out for my work, I'll be home later tonight," could be found on your nightstand. "[Alter], do not forget to take the medication this morning." "Your bear is in the wash little one, please be sure it gets into the dryer before playing with him again."

The scariest moments to your ethereal partner were your flashbacks. The moments of PTSD that would shake you and your entire system to it's core. And in the moments, DreamXD was at a loss; he felt like the worst partner for not knowing more about the mortals he'd created and how to help his favorite one in their lowest of times.

Unsure of what to do, the blonde deity could be found flitting around your shared space. He would prepare a litany of favorite snacks and drinks for you and the people who shared your body and headspace. Clawed hands would gently lift you up, bringing you to your bedroom and covering you in your safety items.

And at the end of it all, DreamXD would wrap you up in his arms, both sets along with his wings encapsulating you in warmth. His claws would draw gentle shapes along your arms and legs, but only in the spots that he knew would not trigger you all further. On the occasion he would hum a song that he thought could bring you back to the present.

Once the memories would fade, you would relax against him, full body weight sinking into his embrace. "Are you back with me little star?" XD would ask, his voice full of concern and barely above a whisper.

You nodded, an overwhelming feeling of safety clinging to your skin.

[sojutrait]

( @itsmariejanel ) THE WAY ITS BEEN SO LONG IDEK WHAT THIS IS ABOUT but whatever it is IM INNOCENT I SWEAR

no literally, the thought of random ppl having my babies send me in a cold shiver, thats why all my sim dump sims are randos that im not attached to jdkdfjk 

( @lake-lunvik ) SHE HAS A GIANT GASH ON HER FACE AND THE EARTH’S ATMOSPHERE IS TOXIC, SHE’S ON HER LAST LEGS AT THE BEGINNING OF THE STORY I FEAR-

i think its a bit diff than my og style (mostly the sims are actually good looking now djfhdjkf) but yeah! reject modernity embrace tradition kdfjd 

( @aomi-nabi ) AAAAAAAAA i swear ur asks make my whole day I HOPE YOURE DOING AMAZING TOO MWAHHHH 😭😭💓💓💓💓

KDJKDDKFJ dw i accept that compliment alot bc its a STRUGGLE making this game look playable sometimes i swear-

after the stds and fights i dont think thats a viable solution at the moment KJDFK 😭😭😭

its just a tag that i use to redirect to on my actual blog so u can see my posts and not shit posts, asks, or rbs

yeah she is!!

yup! his roomie is dove

STOPDFKJDJFKFKD both are taking upwards to a year- 

( @aurore95 @hadesdyke ) I LOVE HOW U BOTH SENT THIS IM CRYINDHGFJD thank u sm, now im gonna make it my life mission to find this shirt and buy it

autumn is het so i dont think thats a possibility 💔but they should def pull a john tucker must die  

thank u sm!!!

thank u sm for asking!! im doing great just ungodly levels of busy 😭😭

TYYYY literally all my sims have rue hairs atp, she cant keep getting away with it 

DKJCKD ive never seen bobs burgers but this tempts me-

maybeeeeeeee, but it wouldnt have links bc i did that Once and i nearly fell over and died 

( @aomi-nabi ) NO TYYYY going down memory lane was so much fun omg

tbh i forget its even a thing half the time so by the time i remember my sims have like 10k points so i blow them on anything. also lots of mods use the reward trait system so it makes it look like theres more 

( @lake-lunvik ) just for this, im going on hiatus again and never coming back. 

( @pixelpeephole​ ) i dont really have a system tbh, i just kinda periodically go around and check if anyones gotten married or had any babies lmao. also checking recent neighborhood stories helps out bc theyll tell me 

IKK every couple weeks i get a large influx of rbs of it and i just Know it mustve gotten around again 😭😭

NO LITERALLY, hes in the deep abyss of the halabi lore iceberg 

hmmmm probably never on here bc theres a subset of simblr obsessed with me and want my head on a platter who will probably print the pic out and cover it in the blood of a lamb or smthn (but ive face revealed in the among us server dkfjdk) 

SEE ive been hearing about it but i havent started it yet omg, def gonna tune in after house of the dragon wraps up and i need something else to watch djfdk

[casketscratch]

reckoning

We wrote compulsively in journals growing up, beginning in about sixth grade. I don't know what it was; we were introduced to Livejournal and something about being able to write about ourselves, what were we doing, was a balm to a chaos we didn't yet consciously register. We could sort of see each other through each other's eyes (and hence most of them are written in second person 'you' and I thought it was just some pretentious affectation or something).

And ever since we've had parts who identify as chroniclers, or archivists, and all they do is watch, or narrate, or write it down and try to assemble some sense of cohesion at the end of the day. Even before being diagnosed, we just knew it was a weird thing we did (and you can tell we're back because we are writing so much again. This post is long and just introspecting about some old shit we rediscovered.)

Mentions of abuse, denial, csa, shit feelings. No real details.

They are as fragmented as we are: we ended up across so many different sites and accounts. I know there were physical journals, too, but they were either burned or thrown out over the years. We would look at them and read them, and be so... put off, by how we didn't recognize what was in them, that they had to go. That was never my handwriting, I'd think, I don't know what to do with this. Or, I can't believe I ever felt that way, or would lie and write about things that never happened, just to justify feeling the way I did at the time. Increasingly complex mazes of denial meant that the easiest thing to do was ditch the evidence.

But we never deleted the blogs, just forgot they existed after a time.

They reference each other, though. It's... not something I have an easy time describing. An entry from 2012 will reference an entry from 2006 and they'll be entirely different blog sites or mediums, but the connection is there and recognizable, like puzzle pieces fitting together. It's like navigating a massive hypertext. It always feels like a great mental unfolding when one of those paths is finally followed.

Which, if I'm being cynical, is what we get for studying hypertexts for years. It's like we practically introjected the structure of a thing, like House of Leaves or Patchwork Girl; an understanding that Crue grasped intuitively when he was no longer dormant. He was the one who began really putting that all together (and he was also one of the participants responsible for building it, which he claims was only semi-conscious).

But it's like we only remember those journals exist at all once we're ready for something new in them. Crue spent months going through them, but could never bring himself to read much prior to when he split, for instance. It wasn't that he tried and couldn't, it was that he just couldn't conceive of trying.

We only remember them whenever whatever system lives behind us, across that great divide, lets us, it feels like. We'll start getting these little glimmers of memories or suggestions, little passing thoughts that always make us go "wait, where did that come from?"

Today it was the realization that there were a lot of posts in the journals about our dad. We just skimmed the main one's "dad" tag, and it was... horrific.

We don't really have memories of the actual trafficking. We barely have any of any CSA. We know they're there, because there is this unyielding pressure from behind at all hours that won't LET us deny them anymore.

But that was true of our dad in general. We didn't remember fucking anything about him. He may as well have never existed post-divorce, and that happened when we were 1 or 2 years old.

Or... that's what we thought, and we were very wrong.

He tried so hard to compel us not to move across the country for university. Threatened to cut us off financially (the only thing he ever offered to pay for was university but only if we went to the one near him); threatened to take back birthday gifts from when we were 16 (driving lessons we never used because, I think, someone blocked us from learning how and knew he'd use that to convince us to drive to see him so often). He followed us for a "visit" after we moved anyway, and all I wrote was about how badly I wanted to no longer exist. It was the "only answer my brain can seem to give me this time," was to crumble into nothingness.

But I'm... struggling. With a lot of the other things we wrote. About how he'd buy my sister thousands dollars worth of furniture while telling me never to move in with him and never to expect help. How he'd try to make me feel ugly and stupid so I'd do what he wanted, and look how he wanted, because I was dying my hair, cutting it short, getting things pierced, getting tattoos, and he hated all of it. How, just, all of it was because he wanted to control me, even from afar.

How he'd talk about being sniper certified and implying he'd shoot anyone who looked at me or who I showed interest in. (How my stepdad used that same line to convince me to shut up and get in the car, because the snipers were always waiting.)

How he was never just an inept dad, but a predator doing his best to keep circling.

And in retrospect I am so grateful we have Stephan in the system, because the very first time his voice ever surfaces in the journals was pushing back against all of it, swearing to move heaven and earth if it meant we could go to university far, far away, no matter the consequences, and then doing it.

But I thought we saw our dad maybe once every few years after that move.

Not that he kept finding reasons to visit or have us come see him. All the while acting more and more like a hurt little child, acting out and taking it out on us for leaving him, I guess.

I'm just trying to take in some parts of the whole. The actual perspective, or at least a slightly wider one, of what the fuck actually happened.

And still it feels like being puppetted by the ones who know more, or are higher up in the system somewhere, who are occasionally nudging us to remember things like "the dad tag" or "this account had this name and this password and we haven't looked there yet."

It's such a weird thing.

And I think if I focus on the weirdness, I can avoid some of actual emotional devastation at realizing a lot of this (but at the same time there is that feeling, you know? That 'I have known this for a long time, this has lived in me, I am remembering something that went dark but was never removed' that comes with it sometimes.)

Anyway.

As always.

Thanks to the protectors and the chroniclers on this one.

[percreates]

Here's my intro post thingy-

My name is Percival, but I'm cool with Percy or whatever nickname, they/he, 20

Fandoms and things I draw/plan to draw

Random things from my life and little sketches

The Doomsday Heroes (working title) - a NaNoWriMo story I did when I was 13 that I'm entirely reworking to make a comic (I might make a post with some early concept art soon!)

Star Wars (I like the prequels/clone wars era best, but am not opposed to some original trilogy love)

Original Leverage (I only watched a lil redemption and didn't care for it all that much, but og Leverage has been my favorite show for over half my life now, expect ot3 art)

Spider-Man and Spiderverse, I have a spidersona that I'll be posting eventually

X-Files (I've taken a truly unhinged number of reference screenshots)

Star Trek TNG (a hyperfixation I'd like to return to, I'm obsessed with Data and Geordi)

Minecraft (funny/neat moments and adventures of my oc and others on an smp I'm part of)

X-Men (once I've read more of the comics)

Potentially other marvel superheroes (but again, not until I've read more of their comics, it's a Thing with me, but I did love the goofy found family avengers tower fandom stuff before the mcu got so dark and depressing)

MCR

Doctor Who (I'm not caught up on the latest few seasons and it's been a long time since I watched past the 10th doctor cause he and 9 are my faves, but I'm sure I'll draw early new who art sometime)

Jackass (MAYBE.)

Apothecaria (if I get back to it, which would be fun! I kinda forgot it existed until rereading this but I did have some cool ideas planned 👀)

Potentially other fandoms I'm forgetting I'm in, or didn't add to the list, just whatever I'm into lately

Random non-fandom related references, I've drawn a reasonable number of random people on pinterest afsgsgsg

(my references and tips board has 27 nicely organized sections and a total of over 1600 pins, feel free to dm me if you want the link!) (Probably more, I haven't checked in a while tbh)

Pretty much any scene/shot from a movie or show I watch that makes me go "ooh I wanna draw that" and take a screenshot, it's a problem (I got a lovely one earlier though of Eliot Spencer with a bunny)

I'm learning to draw cause I want to start creating comics! I drew a lot in middle school and am finally getting back into it. I was never that good back then, but I'm super happy with the progress I'm making since coming back to it >:D

I think entirely in words rather than pictures (I believe that's called aphantasia?), so until I've got A Lot more experience and have built up a better mental library and muscle memory, most things I draw will be with reference, but I'm slowly getting better at drawing from imagination!!

Tagging system-

#my art (self explanatory, I'll also have #my comics sometime down the line and #my me for self portraits), #perc rambles (anything I post that's not art, I've potentially missed a few of these), #cool art (any art I reblog that's not mine), #comics (as in comics people have made, not like, comics fandom stuff), #spidersona (other people's sonas, I'll be tagging my own separately, probably as #spiderskate but I haven't decided), #tips and tricks, #pose reference, #resources, and if I draw for a fandom I'll tag said fandom. I'll have tags for various ocs I post, currently my only one is #benni enderman.

I think that's everything! Thanks for checking out my blog, enjoy your time here :D

[dailycharacteroption]

Subsystems and You 12 Retraining

(art by Joseph C-Knight on Artstation)

 Folks who have been fans of this blog for a while will probably know that I have opinions about this subsystem, but this is the first time I’m actually talking about it as a system in full detail.

It’s an inevitability in RPGs both on the table and on the screen. Sometimes you’ll not be happy with the choices you made during level up. Maybe an option sounded cool but is mechanically not paying for itself. Maybe you realized that you made a mistake. Heck, there might even be an in-game reason why the character might not be what they were previously anymore.

This is where retraining comes in. With it, your character can take some downtime to train, swapping out the offending option, whether it be feat, class feature, or even entire class level or class choice, and replace it with a new, legal option in it’s place.

On the one hand, this signals to players and GMs that they can work together to make a character the best version it can be, making it fun for the player to, well, play.

On the other, the idea that you can just magically forget an entire skillset and replace it with another can completely shatter the immersion for some players.

Like, I get it, when it’s something small like a feat or a spell known, you can flavor it as them trying something new, but it not working out, so they drop it and focus on a new technique. But racial traits? Class features that you’ve had for a long time… an entire class level???

You can see where this might start to make my eyes twitch.

If it were just a player and GM working together to rebuild the character better, I’d be ok with that. Sure, their may be some differences with the players’ memories of events and the character’s current abilities, but they’ll adjust and revise the way things happened as needed. But the fact that this subsystem requires you to spend money on retraining… i.e. tying this whole revision of a character’s abilities to the mechanical and “actually happening in the game” layer of the game is a bit of a pet peeve of mine, and in most cases, I would not use it, at least not usually with the price tag.

 So when would I use it?

Well first, I would forgo the price tag entirely unless it made sense in the moment, and I would have it take a lot longer in terms of downtime unless it’s just a quick fix of replacing something that the character took last level but decided they didn’t like. Again, there are exceptions.

The act of retraining itself I would also use if it made sense for the character. Consider that there are archetypes out there that have alignment requirements, such as the dark elementalist kineticist, or that require atonement to remove, such as any of the ex-class archetypes from Antihero’s Handbook. If the character’s ideology or circumstances change, they often lose class abilities, so being able to retrain for free into a different archetype or even an archetype-less build is important, as well as the reverse. Alternately, if the character wishes to change to a similar class, they may spend downtime there, such as paladin into antipaladin, or fighter into paladin.

Another example is the game with a childhood origin introduction session, or a “before the call” session. In which the characters play young or otherwise non-adventuring characters playing in a sort of introductory session where some formative event happens to all of them. In this case, they might start playing level 1 characters in an NPC class, and then retrain out of that class once the real adventure begins.

 There is also one example of using the retraining rules to gain something without losing something else in kind, and that is using downtime to learn a new language, the gold being spent on resources and tutors to learn it. This is the one area where I would recommend using the gold price for retraining, as it actually makes sense, and I would also use this as the basis to homebrew one spending money to increase physical ability scores through exercise, though I would put long downtime requirements and an upper limit on it to prevent exploitation.

 In the end, the idea of retraining characters to be different is fine with me as a thing that occurs between player and GM to fix mistakes and get the character you want out of things. Having it be a downtime activity that characters do in-game and costs money to do makes no sense to me and breaks my immersion, but maybe it’s right for you and/or your game. Maybe you’re playing a game inspired heavily by certain Final Fantasy titles where people change classes or “Jobs” as easily as putting on a new outfit (often literally!).

That will do for today, but we have some fun subsystems this week, so stay tuned for more!

[nitpick-november-2022]

It’s that time of year again!

...Okay, it’s still like a month away, but it’s almost that time of year again!

November is just around the corner, and while we haven’t had anything new from the main show, that doesn’t mean there isn’t plenty in the teasers and side content like Ice Queendom to dig into this year. And honestly, can you really say that 30 days alone a year ago is enough to get all the nitpicks for the main series out of your system? This calls for another round - 

- sorry, couldn’t resist! can I get an Ironwood pic for it?

But point is, this November I’m hoping for another month of Nitpicks for our community to discuss and have some fun with, and this blog is going to do its best to collect and organize everything with the Nitpick November tag to serve as a one-stop recap of everything that goes on and to look back on in the future. 

This is admittedly the first time I’ve put up a blog for a themed event, and I suppose it’s technically unofficial since I wasn’t the one running the show last year; however, I’m fairly certain that the former host has left the RW/BY side of the internet completely and I’d rather not dredge up bad memories for them, and I do want to see this event continue on, so I’m going to do my best either way to keep track of everything and float out promotions every once in a while in the lead-up to November. If you want to help or make sure your post or someone else’s gets noticed, tag this blog and I’ll be sure to grab, tag, and reblog!

Happy Nitpick November, everyone~

-Whits, aka whitleyschn33

[fictionkinfessions]

TW: Mention of a horribly abusive parent and an equally horrid town

Dear You,

I am a coward who is ot brave enough to write a proper apology or to address it to you directly as I doubt you scour social media or blogs looking for an arsehole you once knew. Still, I want you to know that I failed you more than I ever failed anything or anyone. I was a mess and a total prat who loved tending to the jaded bitterness growing in him. You never did anything wrong and my rage, pettiness and misery were my own t deal with. Yet, I blamed you for shattering the illusion of the happy life we led. I should have listened to you and supported you but I chose to attack you instead.

I spent my life trying to prove that I can be worthy of stability so being presented with the truth wrecked that. It was easier to pretend it was your fault. It was easier to run away. It was easier never to deal with the abominable crimes committed by my father. It was easier to remain silent and not to question the system and status quo while patting myself on the back for being subversive in ways that never mattered. The truth is - I was jealous of you - you were always likeable and people always surrounded you, hell, our friends chose to be on your side and they were right.

I am old, sick and tired. Karma got to me eventually. I hope it reached you and you live a marvellous and happy life surrounded by your loved ones while you can fulfil your dreams. It could be that you do not exist yet or never will in this timeline. But, in case you do and you ever need to hear it - never let anyone like me ever get you down. You matter. You are awesome for just existing. You deserve a fabulous life. Don't ever regret anything as we can only judge our actions at the moment of doing them as we are not seers able to predict the future. We all try our best and we sometimes fail but we learn from it and try again tomorrow.

P.S. In case you ever doubt it is me and you get to read my amazing attempt at writing a letter one day - I will add the idiocy I am known for and you probably never wished to see it again. I was the petty one but maybe me telling you that my hair is all broken, brittle and a bird's nest will make you smile as you always complained that you wanted my hair. And I flaunted it in your face. I bet yours is great now and it was fine in the first place but your fashion sense was something else altogether. I should be banned from writing.

Me. The Annoying and Sad Ginger.

Note to Mods: Sorry for being vague and I am a fictive for tagging purposes and evasive to my source as my memories are very far from canon and rather upsetting.

🍃

[dungeonsandblorbos]

Hello and Welcome to D&B!

hi folks! amidst all the housekeeping i've been doing, it felt like a good time to introduce myself again and make a new pinned post.

about me

my main blog is @persnickety-peahen, so that's where all my follows will come from. i'm in my mid-twenties, happily married, queer, and neurodivergent. you can call me C or any variation of either of my blog names, and i use they/she pronouns.

some of my favorite non-writing activities include listening to podcasts, baking, taking wiki walks, and playing Stardew Valley. lately i've also started teaching myself how to do pixel art because i have reached the level of blorbo hyperfixation that i physically needed to have a new artistic outlet, and pixel art is both really cool and a lot easier for me to actually do as an aphantasiac* than other digital art mediums.

*i have aphantasia, a neurological condition characterized by the inability to produce voluntary mental images; in simpler words, i have no mind's eye. this has significant impacts on diverse areas of my life, especially my autobiographical memory and spatial reasoning, as well as how i perceive and interact with art and literature.

about D&B

i've been enamored with writing from childhood, but since university, a lot of that energy has gotten channeled into TTRPGs instead. hence this sideblog merging the two!

right now, dungeonsandblorbos is mostly where i reblog things from the wider writblr, whumpblr, and TTRPG communities (including pretty dice!), but i'd like to start being more active on here this year. original content includes stories from my big four campaigns (more on those below the cut), out of context session notes, and other kinds of mentally ill blorbo-posting. someday i might even get around to posting some of my pixel art or an actual narrative recap of one of my campaigns!

i'm tag-game friendly, and my ask box is always open, so please feel free to send me asks about any of my characters or campaigns, D&D/TTRPGs in general, or even about aphantasia and how that affects my writing and TTRPG experience!

current ask games

not-so-nice ask game (has some whump vibes) red ask game (real mixed bag; some cute questions, some mildly violent ones, you know how it is)

to keep this post from getting too long, i've put my story/campaign info and additional notes under the cut. thanks for coming by!

my stories/campaigns

Ruins of Runet Status: Temporary hiatus System: D&D5e, homebrew setting Tags: #ruins of runet, #ariel sentera alvedes Short premise: Six hundred years after its sudden disappearance caused a worldwide societal collapse, Magic has returned to the world of Runet. The gods, however, are still gone. Several powerful factions have promised great rewards to any party that can successfully uncover the truth behind Runet's new magic, and help them claim its power for themselves—but perhaps there's a good reason that magic disappeared in the first place. Genres: Medieval fantasy, Existential horror, Eldritch horror Rating: Mature General content warnings: strong language, mature humor, immature humor, alcohol consumption, some sexual themes, some religious themes, fantasy violence, blood and gore, body horror, major character death. Posts will be individually tagged with any relevant warnings. Full campaign and character intro: link

Curse of Strahd (homebrewed) Status: Indefinite hiatus System: D&D5e, Curse of Strahd playbook + a metric shit ton of homebrew Tags: #curse of strahd homebrew, #cerris dalca, #meow meow milo, #dos holy boys, #cos memes, narrative tag TK Short premise: The once-prosperous valley nation of Barovia has been trapped in the Shadowfell for roughly the past 400 years, and its immortal king Strahd von Zarovich cursed with it. For now, at least. He believes he's found a loophole—and the perfect party of would-be heroes to unwittingly help him. Genres: Medieval fantasy, Gothic horror Rating: Explicit General content warnings: strong language, mature humor, drug and alcohol consumption, some sexual themes, some religious themes, fantasy violence, blood and gore, body horror, child endangerment, unintentional cannibalism, and oh my god so much more. Posts will be individually tagged with any relevant warnings. Full campaign and character intro: link

Cauldron & Kettle Questing Company Status: Completed System: D&D5e, Acquisitions, Inc. playbook + a bit of homebrew Tags: #cauldron & kettle questing co., #jun vyardes, #jun and tim Short premise: Acquisitions, Inc., is a wildly profitable adventuring company with a long track record of success, both at its main branch and across its many subsidiary locations. Sure, sometimes they mistake a group of newbie interns for an experienced party and set them on a quest to stop a chaos-worshipping cult hell-bent on tearing a rift in reality and destroying the universe as we know it, but hey, as long as they get the job done, who cares, right? Maybe they'll even get a raise out of it. Genres: Medieval fantasy, Corporate fantasy Rating: Teen General content warnings: strong language, mature humor, immature humor, drug and alcohol consumption, fantasy violence. Posts may not be tagged due to the generally mild nature of most of this campaign's content. Full campaign and character intro: link

The Orphic Uprising and The Amazonomachy Status: Completed System: Cypher, setting based on Percy Jackson series Tags: #confusion crew, #nina grayson Short premise: After a simple game of Capture the Flag at Camp Half-Blood goes horribly wrong, a ragtag group of demigods are called upon to save Olympus—and more importantly, their loved ones. Genres: Urban fantasy, YA Rating: Teen General content warnings: strong language, mature humor, immature humor, fantasy violence, teenage protagonists, second-hand embarrassment. Posts may not be tagged due to the generally mild nature of most of this campaign's content. Full campaign and character intro: link

housekeeping/additional notes

if you'd like to be added to my list of people i @ for tag games, please interact with this post: i'm back bitches (friendly)! link

if you'd like to be tagged in posts related to one or more of the above campaigns or characters, please let me know in a comment on this post or the relevant intro post, or by sending me a message!

if you are a player or DM from one or more of my big four campaigns, hello and happy to see you!! please bother me as much as you like and send me a message letting me know so i can follow you and stay connected!

i may periodically update this post; e.g., updating links for active ask games, updating the rating and content warnings for active campaigns, or adding links for new campaign info posts; so feel free to check it every few months :)

[hugheshugs]

we hit 900 !!

i genuinely cant believe that i've got 900 friends on here !! thats absolutely insane. never would i ever have thought that this blog and my little love for writing would help me 'meet' all of you guys, but im so happy everything worked out this way.

thank you for reading and supporting my work even when its absolute shit, for hyping up my writing when i'm not too confident in what i've posted, and for being my support system. you have no idea how thankful i am and i have so much appreciation for each and every one of you. im sending you all lots of love and hugs 💗🥰

to honour 900 i've decided to do a celly, its my first one so idk how this is gonna go but i hope it'll be fun !! today and tomorrow may be hectic for me so this'll run from june 1st to june 6th, so six days :) just send in any of the emojis and lets get started !! thank you once again <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🌂 imagine chats: ask me questions you have about any of my works/AUs !!

🌸 assumptions: send me any assumptions you have about me and i'll tell you if it's right or wrong.

💜 cast your moots: send me anything to cast my mutuals as !! i'll try my best but i wont be able to answer if idk the thing you want me to cast them as.

🎶 songs for boys: send me the name of a hockey player and i'll tell you what song reminds me of them !! ... only if i like the player :D

📷 ig edit: send me a hockey player and a topic and i'll make an ig edit for them.

😈 thirsty thots: 18+ !! send me your thots on a hockey boy and we can talk abt it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

tagging my lovely friends (im sorry if i missed any of you, i've got terrible memory and i dont wanna make this a tagfest but there are so many of you) <3 @boeswhore @this-is-ally-and-im-confused @snugglyducklingbrewhouse @quietblues @gigglyparker @thomasbbordeleau @harlowhockeystick @huggybug @nucksgal03 @1-800-iluvhockey @mattyybenierss @owenpowpow @thombords @thombordy @erikports @bbrissonn @owenpowersglasses @puckssbunny @njdhischier @hockey-lover86 @nickblankenburgg @calermakar08 @2manytabsopen @inspectorseb @dylandukerr @ilyasorokinn @oskarlidblom @everythinghughes @joelsfarabees @jamiedryzdale @bitchinbarzal

[focsle]

Honestly I think people who shit on tumblr are so annoying. Don’t rebl this I don’t feel like talking to any of them.

’The tag system’s broken’ - it’s definitely not perfect but if I go to my blog on a browser I can type in the url for a tag I use and find everything in chronological order from the day I posted it 6 years ago. It’s there. I can also link to it for other people to easily access. There’s an archive system; that’s amazing! Tonight I have several people reblogging like…dishonored fanfic I wrote like 8 years ago, how’d they find it, who knows, but they could! With twitter I have to google the right stupid code to type into ‘advanced search’ any time I want find things on my own twitter and can’t actually organize any of it in a way that looks neat or accessible to other people. Tags are also not part of the actual post here and so they don’t clutter it up and look awful like twitter and instagram.

’terrible for artists’ twitter uses a robot to autocrop my images and compresses them all to hell. Instagram loves a square composition and for the longest time wouldn’t allow posts from a desktop. Of the many artists I follow on twitter I barely see any them because the algorithm throttles you and you have to type out shit like ‘commissions’ and ‘patreon’ in a cipher so people actually maybe see it. Again there are problems but this is the most friendly platform to artists out of any social media if you ask me.

Multimedia! Do I wanna post a video? Do I wanna post music? Art? Do I wanna write a long thing? I can do all of that and somehow tumblr hosts all of it despite having no money. I have no idea how they’re keeping their servers afloat.

’censorship’ like…yes, the nsfw ban and the tag kerfuffle was definitely an issue but any time I say ‘fuck’ I get shadowbanned on instagram. I feel like I said ‘shit’ on twitter once and they were like nO NO! SWEARWORDS! disgusting ideologies (at a MUCH greater volume than whatever you’d find here) are ok tho.

It’s not trying to farm my information nearly as much as other social media websites. The ads aren’t desperately trying to know who I am. It’s not responding to my google searches in seconds’ time like instagram is.

I do have a lot of memories here, that would be frankly too much to try and back up now at this point. It’s naive to think I’ll always have access to them because everything fizzles on the internet eventually but…I‘ll be sad whenever they disappear with this place.

This place is where I’ve found the most support and interest for my niche work and I am so so appreciative of that and all of you who make that possible. It’s enabled me to actually like, turn towards what makes me happy. And I don’t think that would necessarily follow me if I weren’t on tumblr.

Some of you need to chill because most everywhere else is way more garbage than this.