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#number five roleplay
tempportal · 2 months
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open starter. mutuals only.
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"Let's review the golden rule of roommates, shall we?" Five shoots them a snarky, sharp-edged smile over the chipped rim of his coffee cup. "If it isn't visibly marked with your name, or stored in your designated space, it's not yours — and thus, it's rightfully considered fair game for anyone else who finds it."
He takes a long, slow sip of his scalding-hot coffee, stuffing his empty hand in his pocket and leaning loosely back against the kitchen counter, mostly to make sure they see how much of a shit he really doesn't give about this entire conversation. "It's your own damn fault you didn't lay claim to the last Pop-Tart, anyway. Go out and get more if it's so important to you."
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number-fiv3 · 21 days
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Any arson or murder tips? Asking for a friend.
Oh? Well, this friend should've been bold with it and asked me outright, we could've had an intellectual discussion about it. I tend to refrain from senseless murder nowadays, but thinking back to my time as an assassin, my tips are:
Make sure your weapon is sharp. A clean cut is a quick and quiet death.
Leave no trace. But if you do, make sure it's not your trace. I can't emphasise enough how important cleaning is to a successful job.
For the sake of all that's good, work alone. Unless your partner is loyal until death, don't have a partner. I never did, and I was perfectly fine.
Plan. Unlike most people, I can quite literally manipulate myself in space-time, which significantly eased things, but you likely cannot. So plan your murder.
Now, I can't say I'm well-versed in the nature of arson, but from what I know of it, it's honestly very easy.
Just make it look natural. Set the outlets on fire. St the toasters on fire. Put a bomb in the oven and set the heat to max. Gasoline's for amateurs, because then they'll know it's arson.
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consult-sherlockholmes · 10 months
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Hm...nah. I enjoy keeping you guessing. I'm honestly shocked you hadn't guessed who was trolling your inbox all those times, why would I give you a hint now? With that drug-fetishizing brain of yours?
You were fun to mess with, but I grew bored. Ran out of material.
No need to guess, number idiot, I know it's you who can't even afford an actual name.
'Drug-fetishizing'? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I do not fetishize anything, and the only thing you are talking is shite.
And you are not messing with me, merely making a fool of yourself, although you don't have to make yourself one because you are one to begin with. Can't become what you already are.
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seance-45 · 2 years
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just picture for my roleplay with my friend.
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clelery · 2 years
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anybody who writes fics in umbrella academy and peaky blinders i beg of you to send me an ask or dm i need fanfic of Five in a peaky blinders setting. doesn’t have to be the show itself just like- that VIBE YA KNOW???
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capslocked · 5 months
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KINKVEMBER DAY: 4
[prompt: roleplay] male reader x kang hyewon 8k words
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“I need you,” Hyewon says in the uneasy dark of a hotel room, with two urgent fistfuls of your shirt, “need you to do to me all the things my husband never will.” “Yeah, I know,” you tell her, “you said that,” and her eyebrows move in all the wrong directions, “I’m just wondering if, you know, maybe we should give him a little more credit.”
-
Here’s the truth:
Hyewon doesn’t believe in leaving evidence behind and you don't find it particularly productive to doubt her; you’ve been talking in code for years. Parts and pieces of yourselves reduced down and bottled into set phrases that, to anyone else, would be totally incomprehensible.
"i've been thinking," she texts you, which you've come to understand means she's already made up her mind, "maybe we should do that thing we were talking about. tonight."
(You're not always so fast on the uptake.)
You send two back two texts, both of which ask "which thing?" because the hallway from the breakroom to your desk has poor reception and it never lets you send just one.
Then, right after you cross the threshold between signal-drowning-concrete and the glitzy glass-walled arboretum they've built to make you feel like you're not a total cog in their corporate machine, your phone pings the receipt of Hyewon's reply: a picture - her laptop, propped up on your coffee table with its screen angled for perusal, of a booking site that's filtered to show results for their 'king bed & view' room at a midrange hotel a forty-five-minute ride from your apartment.
"not really doing much narrowing down here hyewon."
She replies to you - her text bubble appearing over another couple still images, of herself in the vanity mirror as she curls her hair around her finger and holds this little black slip of a dress over her shoulder, black lacy lingerie in tow, the whole nine - with:
"i'm feeling kinda adventurous."
-
Five o’clock rolls around but you never really do figure it out. You spend the last three hours at work deciding which kink of hers (oh, does she have a few) this is all in service to.
There's nothing overtly sexual about her pics in the first place - not more than usual anyway, more showing off her curves and cut jaw than showcasing anything for her 'adventurous' intent. So that can't be the tell - you'd seen her in a corset once (you can't unsee it) and the angle of her hips to the mirror makes you think that if she was planning on pulling on a  pair of crotchless panties then she probably would've found her thigh high stockings, too.
You try and think of what the two of you had even talked about when discussing these little scenes - how many times you'd ended up 'in the mood' during or after such a meeting of the minds, how it'd snowballed from there, a whole list of filthy what-ifs that she'd probably put more thought into than you ever have - but you draw a total blank. It could be any of a number of things.
Until,
"i left you instructions on the kitchen island," reads a text on your phone which you definitely don’t check while you’re driving -
And then it hits you.
"ah."
"yeah, 'ah'," she replies.
-
A quarter past seven at the hotel bar is way too early for any real promiscuous activity, but then again, you're here playing at pretend and half the fun of games like this is in the setup.
Meet me at the bar, your instructions read, introduce yourself, and play it by ear.
There's some couples at the other end, some friends downing shots by the round, people musing over their aperitifs, and a woman sipping alone at the bar - Hyewon, appearing to you from the back first:
The pointed edges of her shoulders narrow out over this tiny cocktail dress that somehow covers less of her than if it weren't there at all, skin tight, accentuating even her softest curves. She has her hair fixed a particular way - teased enough to flip at the ends but still a single sweep down her shoulders, pulled together softly by a ribbon in the back, tied like a fantasy, allowing a wispy strand to fall to her face - glossy and dark and glowing to this rich, deep mahogany where it's cast in the lamplight.
The line of her throat, of her chest. Where her hips meet her waist in a rounding flare. The effort and beauty she's gone to, for you - that she puts in every day just because she knows it gets your attention, can do more than turn a head or two; Hyewon's appearance is almost indifferent of you, only coincidental, but she puts on a damn good act.
(You look a lot more worn in comparison: jacket thrown over dress shirt and khakis, tie loose at the neck. Standard office attire with just a step-outside-regulation. Disheveled.)
A drink, you suppose - approaching the bar to try and catch the bartender's attention to order a single malt.
But if Hyewon's been waiting long, she doesn't complain when you pull into the stool beside her and sit for a long moment.
"Do you mind if I join you?" you say over a pair of politely folded hands - and that's generally where her 'instructions' end.
The look she fixes you with is just this unashamed smoldering, her body language this contradictory kind of lazy - cool, like her night was going exactly the way she planned but she still had places to be.
"It depends," she replies, one slender finger curled around the stem of her martini glass - which historically, is a drink she hates. "Who's asking?"
"Just me," you offer, letting the gesture and your tone leave it up to her. And then slowly, perhaps awkwardly: "ostensibly a complete and utter stranger who knows a gorgeous woman when he sees one - and who could never pass up a chance to see how the rest of her is."
"Smooth."
"I guess it is, considering you didn't immediately run for the exit."
Hyewon nearly snorts.
"Hard not to." She tilts her head back at you, assessing. Her cheeks are rosy pink. "A handsome thing like you doesn't usually buy themself a girl's time with flattery -"
"Buy your time or your drinks?" you tease, and you can tell she wants to roll her eyes - but she keeps them carefully lowered. Eyelashes dipping down like blackened fans.
Hyewon shifts slightly, resting her chin onto the heel of her wrist like she's leaning against an imaginary windowpane and tipping her face a little sideways. It makes you smile. "One gets the other, if you catch my meaning."
Maybe it takes you a little too long to lift your gaze off her lips to find her eyes, or off the sweeping curve of the hemline sitting high across her long legs, but she watches you for just a breath. It's a more telling moment that she pretends she doesn't know you.
"You can look at me if you like," and then without further preamble, she introduces herself with a slight tilt of the head and an expectant expression: "call me Hyewon."
You figure that if you've gotta say one word to get the ball rolling you want to say her name, and as a little revenge for forcing you to think on this scene and think on what to say, what your character would say, how exactly she wanted you to go about 'meeting' her in a hotel bar, how her fucking scenario's been building up in her head for god-knows-how-long (even though, in the scheme of the two of you and your relationship, it’s nowhere close to being the most demanding sex you've had), you reply simply with:
"Pretty."
It's satisfying, how she hesitates - pausing a little longer on your face to gauge exactly what you meant. Studying. But the next beat of your heart - or hers - is effortless, easy.
"I know. That's what my husband calls me."
"Husband?" You keep yourself from raising an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose I'm also... married?"
"Different day, different you."
"Meaning I have a wife or a mistress of my own," and you flick your wrist at the barkeep for a top-up of what's in front of Hyewon. "You're telling me I'm the kind of man who'd only settle for two."
It doesn't sound quite right, though Hyewon picks up on it. Doesn't let on. "Aren't men like you always? Charming to a fault, but always voracious - insatiable, especially with women like me."
"Women like you."
"Married women. Unavailable," she simpers, and in a practiced little motion, draws her hand out to where you can see it properly, this sparkle on her fourth finger that catches the lowlight of the bar. The diamond looks real - not that you'd actually know - and your stomach flexes up mid-somersault thinking about the financial impropriety for what amounts to a gag. A practical joke. Hyewon the comedian.
Still, you go with it and take her hand in yours, admiring. "What a pity." The glint off its faceted surface - Hyewon's watchful as she allows it.
"Isn't it," she agrees.
The more unnerving thing - besides how composed Hyewon can make herself be - is how the narrative quickly becomes a whole hell of a lot clearer with the context of marriage in play. She's mentioned it before: the infidelity thing, the way it leads to the raunchiest, filthiest bits she'll dare to explore. In some ways, her desire for the untouchable makes a lot more sense -
And maybe that's what had been nagging at your mind since she brought up the idea of playing the part: you always end up kissing in that stupid 'caught up' sort of way. With an intensity that's hard to beat. Even though you wouldn't ever cheat on her. Not in a million years. You'd watch her leave before doing anything like that.
But it's thrilling, almost, and even more thrilling that this isn't entirely improvisation: how well the two of you might actually play this off, as two total strangers to this illusory little roleplay that you'd normally say was your very last interest.
"But you know there's something I've come to appreciate about married men," Hyewon continues, her voice in this conspiratorial sort of hushed.
You blink, drawing her out.
"They know how to tie a knot."
There's the flirty wink, an upward flick of the chin that draws your eye to the span of her chest. To her body in that skin-hugging dress and your fingers entangled in hers - the gentle bump and shift of the bodies behind her, moving between the tables - Hyewon a queen of circumstance, playing to the moment as it bends; as her lips part in a pleased smile, red and smooth, almost innocent, and you can't help but imagine tasting her on your tongue, the force that'd take for her to yield when you finally got your hands in her hair.
(What a character, honestly.)
"Tell me something," you say, "why would a married woman, this pretty little thing like you, be all alone in a place like this - without her charming husband."
Hyewon's smile curls at the edges like smoke. "I never said he was charming."
You raise an eyebrow. "Good-looking, then."
"Never said as much either."
“Why are you with someone you find neither attractive nor charming?”
Hyewon makes a face, slightly pitied. “If that Isn’t what I’m asking myself everyday.”
"Hm." You narrow your eyes into something more quizzical than suggestive. It works on her anyway. "That doesn't feel too much like it's in character, Hyewon."
She shrugs, but it's that coy kind of shrug. She thinks you'll let her off easy - you usually do. All considered, she's the type who thrives off the chase and, as of today, so do you.
"But he is cute." Her expression is just this side of sweet, as she takes a dainty sip of her drink. Like the taste doesn’t bother her, like she isn't pretending she doesn't hate it with every fiber of her being. Like this is easy. "And maybe -" she quirks an eyebrow at you, withholding a smirk. "-you're right. Maybe, I was looking for someone cuter to fill the bill. And luck would have it, here he is."
So - apparently - her character doesn’t mind a little light infidelity.
Hyewon takes in the vague sense that the message wasn’t as clear as she might have liked, her forehead scrunching as she tries to convey - in a way that would communicate even to an airhead - some realization to play your part.
"Maybe it's the wrong question,” you start over, taking it from somewhere near the top, “what are you doing here, with me?"
That's when Hyewon graces you with one of the soft, slow kind of smiles: the kind that manages both an air of 'you dimwit' and 'good question'. Her fingertips barely graze yours but it's noticeably electric. Just enough to feel your pulse fluttering.
(You don't care that none of it’s real - Hyewon looks to you through thick eyelashes like a goddess of temptation and sin - and it makes something wicked coil up warm at the pit of your gut. A curious thrill and a recklessness that you have to admit feels a little nice - being the man trying to talk this woman into bed. The challenge and the buildup, the want to work for it. It's new. It's fresh. Lo-and-behold, it's kinda hot.)
When you catch her stare, she fidgets. So slightly, so briefly, your chest is on fire and you're barely into the pages of her plans, of this night ahead.
"Wish fulfillment, let's say," and that is no less true. "See it’s my husband."
"Mhmm."
"He respects me too much to do the things I'm going to ask you to do."
"Like?" you continue to prod.
Hyewon lets out the tiniest shiver of a sigh, like a trickle of cold water down the length of her spine. "Take a good guess."
You finish the rest of Hyewon's martini, slow. Savoring the warmth and bitterness sliding down the back of your throat. The night's young, sure - and if you're supposed to be spending it all wrapped around Hyewon's finger. This means you can take your time.
"Show me your room?" you propose, gesturing to the empty glass.
"I thought you'd never ask."
At your offering, she stands up and throws on her coat - long, double-breasted, chic - but only really just off her shoulders to have the hem hit her legs mid-thigh. One of her many personal quirks. Hyewon knows how to move like there aren't two eyes staring at her wherever she goes: not the awkward side-to-side of a girl who wasn't made to wear heels - a loping gait - nor the assured click, click of the taller kind that totter like it's all they've got going for them.
Something totally different: a little careless and a little haughty and an assurance of the highest confidence.
She winds an arm round yours like they do in movies, this parody of a leading lady - Hyewon not a seductress as much as she is someone who'll look the part just to convince you otherwise. There is a pretty big discrepancy, you find, between her bravado and her smile, her figure and her artistry - you couldn't act if you wanted to; meanwhile, she does whatever she damn well pleases. And somehow that doesn't even begin to cover the things that turn her on.
The two of you make for the stairs, winding up floor after floor until it's perfectly quiet, perfectly out of sight - hidden away from prying eyes and ears.
The silence of an empty hotel stairwell is thick - Hyewon's hand comes off the railing, as she takes to the wall and turns to face you. It's a gentle tug at the tie loose around your neck, barely any give before you're already there, holding her by the hips.
"Might've gotten us lost there," you whisper, as her finger plays at your chest and finds its way round the collar of your shirt. Your top button is already undone by the time you notice she's not fond of it. "The elevators would've gotten us where we're headed faster."
"Don't worry." She hums, leaning in close - like a magnet, like gravity. "You're getting the scenic route."
"Anything to stall the inevitable," you tease, but it isn't a thread she seems interested in developing.
"Something like that."
Hyewon shifts her weight back onto her right foot, her skirt riding up just barely. The dip between her inner thighs and the smooth curve of her leg is open and bare to your sight, her dark stockings like an unspoken challenge: the panties, lacy, loose, no crotch.
And it gets... indecent, the way your lips connect, how you realize half-way into that kiss, she's still smiling. It isn't any one way that does it; maybe it's the clever use of her tongue, or that particular position you've coaxed her up against the stairwell wall that makes it seem like Hyewon can't be any more in danger - it's too much to handle and your mouth goes slack on the reflex of an apology; her hand has a hold on you by the jaw and it won't budge.
"My husband," she murmurs into you, the trace of the words ghosting into the breath between the both of you. "Never lets me."
"What," you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice, your hand heavy on her side - the very real fear that you might tip over a banister because Hyewon's got her heel half-way into the back of your calf and any less bracing would bring you down. Your thoughts are a fog, with her cheek in one hand and your knee already up between her thighs.
"His wife," she almost swallows down, kisses turning chaste because maybe it's just easier to gently peck out her intentions, how she looks to you with dark eyes, heavy-lidded and wanting, a thumb trailing down the plane of your cheek. It'd feel like pity if you weren't thinking exactly the same.
You try to finish it for her:
"She likes it rough."
"No." Her nose traces yours before she connects you again - gentle and slow, and a shudder rolls all down the expanse of her shoulders; you think you have it about right. Until she makes the slightest adjustment and her grip in your hair turns agonizing, perfect and burning on the edge of too tight - too much. You are straining against the wall of a hotel hallway and she's saying, "not rough."
She kisses you. Hard. Until you gasp for the stolen air in her lungs.
"Filthy," she manages against the heat and sting at the side of her cheek.
(Damn.)
Your voice has gone and lodged itself firmly somewhere between her lungs - but there's something that says she knows. That you've got it in you, the brimming potential that might just say everything you ever wanted but couldn't figure the right way to put it.
It's the tone of her voice or the spark in her eyes, but one moment into the next - you're caught in this pull - like gravity's increasing tenfold at her will; her heartbeat's so strong you swear you feel it against your ribs as she's demanding:
"Messy. Dirty. A little uninhibited," and the obvious thrill of that must flare up like lightning under her skin - the way it makes her moan, soft and breathless: "fuck me like my husband doesn't."
She’s not even waiting for the comfort of the room yet, which in hindsight is probably checking more of Hyewon's many boxes - it's the sex in public thing, the fear of discovery thing, the desire to have you ravish her out where anyone can come upon you sort of thing - the thought of which has your jaw go a little slack too. Her leg up is coiled up around your hip, your fingers tangled in her hair and sliding up the length of her thigh, until you're fucking kneading up her ass and drawing out that desperate whine in her.
"Fuck," she exhales into your shoulder - a hand on the metal bannister to brace against those little circles you start to rub inside her, pushing - slowly - one, two, three knuckles deep, testing - before drawing back, and plunging forward again. This ache, slow and purposeful, pressing just enough into her until there's a wet sort of friction that has your hand slick all down your wrist.
It never takes long, with your fingers on her clit, fingers inside her, a palm covering the moans out of her mouth -
She cums just like that.
Whining and broken and bent under you, and with an elbow hard against her ribcage to make the breaths come shallow.
"Stay quiet for me, sweetheart," you find yourself murmuring, as your teeth graze the shell of her ear - the short burst of hair and silky strands across the back of her neck; you're undoing the neat ribbon tied round the length of her hair and letting her waves settle on her shoulder in time for you to swallow down the sound of her sighs, the tension in her lips, and the frantic jolt when your fingers push through the wet, heat of her pussy again, merciless and quick. You have to be careful; she nearly bites your fucking tongue out.
"Can't." Her jaw's tight on it, the slight staccato to her breathing, murmuring and slightly dazed: "if we get caught, someone will see. Someone will notice."
Her next exhale is more shaky. "Anyone could see us like this," with just her toes curling and her stomach tensing on every second beat. Your grip leaves a bruise. "Please-"
"We're not supposed to be doing this at all, are we? If you've got a husband waiting somewhere?"
You hear yourself, and it sounds sorta degenerate, though in all the right ways, you figure, like something straight out of one of Hyewon's romance novels, the dirty, smutty ones that she swears up and down she simply reads for the plot, but the dazed, hazy kind of mood they get her worked up into suggest otherwise.
You trace the rough pad of your thumb over her pussy, this delicate, ghost of a touch. One you'd have to strain to even tell if it was there or not until she whines - eyes screwed shut like she doesn't mean to, just does. The sound of it bouncing around the stairwell.
And then, all this wet: her skirt's ridden all the way up to her stomach, damp and near-transparent with slick, and you can just imagine the puffy pink between her legs - between her stockings in the afterglow of an orgasm, spent and sensitive and sore and wanting for more. Your eyes linger a little too long -
"I shouldn't let you," she manages, half a moan on it - one of her heels comes up the stair you're standing on and the way Hyewon clings onto you for balance says enough, but still, she demands, with all the strength her throat allows: "make it fast. You're lucky I let you see me like this at all -"
And she cuts off abruptly, looking at you.
(She'll play coy for a while longer. Which, Hyewon being Hyewon, will look like as much an effort as her sprawl out on the bed for you is.)
"The room," you say to her, harshly, "where is it."
"Four more floors."
-
Room 1014 as it turns out is like every other room you've ever been in, each one perhaps a little more identical than the last - except this one has Hyewon sitting in your lap while you get comfortable on the bed, and there's also the way she looks in the mirror above the headboard, the desperation in her stare, right back into the reflection.
"What all," she says, "do you want to do to me?"
This time - no explicit instructions - just an implication. You have to figure it out.
See, the image of her is like every fantasy rolled into one, wearing this thin black bra that has her breasts just about spilling over. They're amazing - the color and shape of her skin. Soft. Cradled between the cups like a godsend, and maybe that's why it drives her a little crazy how good you look biting down the ridge of her breast and flicking your eyes back up to catch her expression.
It has you feeling, if nothing else, a little ‘adventurous,’ too.
Her belly tenses on a heavy sigh and it's one hell of a thing to have Hyewon staring you down, like you're an animal or an idiot, with her eyes flashing and a thinly veiled anger in the purse of her lips. There's a thousand things she'd like to do to you - for you to do to her - but it's about the predicament: the silk necktie she'd pulled off you as you both stumbled through the door has ended up around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back in a way that suggests a loss of control. Just the mere suggestion of a little playacting, but she's almost keening.
You feel the touch of her right calf keep rising - curving down your waist, hooked behind the small of your back - her thighs smooth, and a hot line along your sides.
"I should fuck that pretty mouth of yours," you say against the shell of her ear, because you know better than anyone, the very concept gets her wet. Uncomfortably so.
And she leans her head against your temple like she'd love it. You could be imagining the little whimper as she clenches up round nothing - until a growl escapes the back of her throat and she's saying -
"Is that how you're going to cum? With me on my knees and nothing else? Cover my pretty face? How you’ll completely ruin me?. You’re more creative than that."
“I don’t know that I am.”
Her hips move to find some friction where there isn't any until you give her some, pulling your cock out through your pants and feeling it brush, once, twice against the seam of her. Hot, and hard. Ready. And if she only tried a little, the angle was made perfectly to slot your head in, but neither of you move. She doesn't yield.
"Let me fuck myself on you," she suggests, strained, almost pleading. "Then perhaps I will."
You could take her like she is. Any which way. But this is about getting a particular reaction - one that'll leave her spent and trembling - and nothing like that will happen without a little bit of preparation and prelude. You want to watch her writhe for hours. Until she forgets she's playing a character at all, until she's panting your name and whimpering for release, her cheeks burning.
But at least it gets her writhing on you, the heat and press of her body as she leans in close, your eyes locking:
"Get your cock inside me-" the urgency in her voice. "-fuck me right now, this second-"
"Say it again."
"Fill me with your perfect cock." The words land right on your lips, frayed at the edges as the tether to her control slips another notch. "Push my thighs apart until you break me," Hyewon tells you - and then with her legs twisted up in the comforter, the creaking mattress and the sweat on the sheets: she rolls her hips like they're pleading for it.
"Pushy."
"Gentle's got no appeal for us."
"Apparently not," you reply - but then it's suddenly a lot easier, to slide one hand in Hyewon's hair, and grip at the knotted silk wrapped tight 'round her wrists to hold her. There's no hiding the subtle arching of her spine, how the pressure off her arms pulls her chest in or makes it all the more comfortable, she doesn't let on, she'll probably keep pretending she doesn't like this, that she hasn't always wanted -
You run your tongue over her collarbone and thrust up inside her, once - a warning that you're not giving in to her quite yet.
The smile that runs her lips is brittle. Like her patience isn't what it used to be - she makes a quiet little noise, pained. A flash of discomfort. But there's a moan and a curse out of her:
"Like that. Harder."
"What does harder mean?" you ask, with a deliberate repetition in motion, thrusting upward, forcing her hips to shift a few degrees further back - her knees clenching around the sheets as you're met with no give - Hyewon's resistance through a dark smile, and her grip slackened in her hands, despite you keeping a fist wound tight in the hair on the back of her head, tightening the other around her restraint.
Her throat flinches: this shudder.
She takes a couple heaving, open-mouthed breaths, before she has it in her to glare at you again.
"Harder-" The way her mouth shapes around the word gets the better of you - cute little cupid's bow in pink, full and swollen and pursed up as if in pain. Or desire. Or both, the way her head is tipped back, hair half undone - an idea is already coiling at the back of your mind. "-until I can't stand."
"Or talk?"
And when your hand loosens on her wrists, her posture slumps like it's relief, that you're finally going to move along in a direction she's getting some satisfaction from -
Hyewon shakes her head in a moment that's almost blissed.
"You," her voice breaks on the tail end, "fucking wish you could shut me up that easily -"
In a motion almost gentle, you twist the length of hair down around her, from her scalp to her jaw, and wrap it around a hand. "Let's see if you'll change your mind, shall we."
There's a sharp draw of air in past her lips, just one sound, not a word. No proper rebuttal. She bites down, teeth clicking.
So you pull.
And this isn't some revelation, that Hyewon's cunt is heaven. Slick and tight, the fit around your cock and the gasp escaping the base of her throat - that isn't new. You've been here countless times, fucked her past her breaking point, beyond what should reasonably satisfy her or satisfy you, but that still doesn't take away from this incredible, heady rush that pulses through your entire body. It never stops getting better, not inch-after-fucking-inch the way you're bottoming out inside Hyewon's body and feel how hard the rest of her muscles tense up in the contact, how her pussy tightens and quivers, and grips around the entirety of your cock, the briefest taste of pleasure and release before it's pulled back just out of her reach - overstimulated, until Hyewon cries out.
You expect, predict the fight, the whimpers that spill out of her mouth with every slap of your skin and the breathless way she begs, pleads, like she'd rather her pride take it from her than have your fingers tug her hair up, right out of her scalp, with your arm locked around her lower waist. With your cock pumping faster, faster and a pressure, hot and inescapable, right there - the friction building - the slippery-wet heat sliding along your shaft with every stroke until you bottom out and her next exhale is a sob.
A goddamn fucking sob and the warm gush of liquid down her thighs - all on you. You fingers are pressed into her ass, pulling onto you, steading her bounce - and Hyewon finds her breathing uneven, as you smear wet across the curve of her backside, rubbing circles into her lower back as you catch up on the rhythm she'd lost.
"This tight little cunt, huh," you tease, and she nods so desperately it seems like she might snap. Like she might cry again and this time for real, a drop of her eye color past the blush, streaking down her cheek. You have the wherewithal to remember your character, your blocking, your lines: "this is what your husband won't do? Won't fuck you on every piece of furniture until you're a ruined fucked-out mess? Doesn't have the decency to work over his little slutty-wife until she's passed out, dripping with cum?"
Hyewon's fingers curl up into two balls of white knuckles and she chokes on her reply. "He won't."
"Tell him. He has a hot and dirty little piece of ass right under his own roof-"
"You think," and the string of words trails off when you manage to grind in, at this angle that has her reeling, trembling at every shift and jerk in momentum. Your knuckles drag against her soft and giving curves, almost gripping at her in the attempt to hold her down on you. "-my husband isn't enough."
"Well you wanted me to fuck the domestic housewife out of you," you murmur, taking two greedy handfuls of the ass bouncing in your lap, rubbing your palms along her hips, up and around the shape of her abdomen and her ribcage like you'd map it, memorize it. She wants this, you know this: your palms come around and over and brush your thumbs against her rising gooseflesh - she's putty in your hands. "No strings attached, remember, a one night kind of thing-"
"My husband loves me."
"Then it seems-"
"He makes me cum with his hands alone."
Your jaw works tight - Hyewon's cunt feels as good wrapped around you as she says your cock feels making a mess of it.
"Tells me he'd die happy hearing me moan his name."
"Oh, because no matter where he goes," you say, fingers wrapping under and around the back of her neck, forcing her to look you in the eye, "no matter what, your sweet cunt's the only one his mouth is ever watering for, isn't that right-"
A blink, lashes thick and feathering down and over the pools of her pupils as you have a hold of her tight. 
You're having a hard time with this, and you want to give it to her, the toe-curling-crescendo that would see her cumming at your will, or worse, losing the plot completely and your entire setup falling away from the charade of characters you'd both conjured. But she looks at you like she's never loved anyone like she loves you, the naked, barefaced devotion, the tenderness - a quick breath, a second - and the game is suddenly something far more personal, a truth. It isn't exactly fair: how your heart stutters. How much her heartbeat makes your pulse flutter, the electrifying rush you get when you fuck roughly up into her tight, wet cunt and make her bite down on nothing in the throes another orgasm.
You barely have a second to think of something coherent, let alone an out before she kisses you. If that isn’t totally disarming. So you move her into the next, flipping her onto her stomach, and she does nothing to fight back: Hyewon just lies there - the side of her face plastered to the comforter - exhausted, and gives a willing, malleable moan at the contact where your hand digs into the shape of her upper thighs, spreading them out as her elbows struggle behind her back.
"Here, baby," you say, finally unwinding the silk knot between her wrists, "I'll have you like the little desperate fucktoy you really are."
There's the bite to her bottom lip, the whole five seconds it takes for her hands to spread out and twist her fingers tight in the bedspread, before she whines - full-throated - and rocks back onto her toes to arch her back.
(See, the thing: Hyewon likes being fucked within an inch of her life. On all fours and pleading for more.)
With your free hand, you reach around her to run over her inner thighs.
Hyewon brings her grip to the bottom of the bed frame, for purchase, or leverage, you don't know, and in one simple motion, you slip your cock back deep inside her pussy.
You curse under your breath.
Hyewon fucking collapses.
It's a dangerous combination, having her begging and you nearly fully clothed while she's wearing barely more than this thin strip of black silk around her waist and a stocking on one leg, but you can't help it - she looks good this way.
"Fuck," she spits out, voice lost when your hips find hers in this wet, sloppy crash of skin that gets louder, faster and more punishing on each beat. "Like that, oh my God-"
Her whimpering only gets worse - when you start only pulling out halfway, until she's gasping like she can't breathe. You think there isn't a more wonderful, more obscene, more gorgeous thing than Hyewon spread out in front of you - the curve of her spine defining each and every one of the lines, dips, and rises of her body - and you would thank God or some higher deity right about now.
It’s fuck and please and every other little pliant utterance of “fuck my brains out, use me, make me beg, I'm so turned on right now I'll let you fuck me anyway you want - harder, faster, I can do whatever, just show me how, make me, push and fuck me hard until I'm raw and aching - god - like this, let me cum, please, let me - keep fucking going, oh my god, please, like this, fuck, just like this-"
You do thank God, actually - there's mirrors everywhere in this room, and you can catch the circular swing of her tits every time you force a curse and a sigh out of her: the bared teeth and the effort to push herself back on her arms, bracing for every thrust, fighting and fumbling to keep her balance and to make sure you have to pound her into the mattress until her cries reach a pitch.
Then, the thing you'd learned she'd never ask for but oh-so-dearly-wanted - you open your palm and bring it down hard on her backside. The impact of your flesh to hers, a crack, a moan and her whole body flexes - and it's then you do it again: matching the hit to the visible red outline of your handprint. The third time, she hisses, biting into the bed sheets so as not to cry out.
"Right? This is what you want? To be fucked and used?"
She doesn't reply with words, because she may in fact be biting her teeth into the cotton threadcount at the end of the bed, but she lifts her ass higher, angles her hips like she's waiting for more. Her brow is creased in a smile, even though a frustrated groan escapes her lips - so you give her that again, and again, until the back of her thighs are turning red and she's clawing one hand back along the length of your legs - pushing and pulling.
"You want me to fuck you senseless, sweetheart?"
And then, so needy and desperate she's just saying the first word that come to mind:
"More-"
"-when I've been railing into you so hard and your husband probably knows already, has to have seen, maybe he's listening at the door- oh," and your whole train of thought comes to a sudden halt upon seeing Hyewon's hand land on the perfect round of her ass, fingers pulling her soft, reddening skin taut, up and away from where your cock is disappearing between her cheeks - to allow more of your shaft into her hot, wet cunt - allow you to fuck her and fuck her up - allow the length of your shaft to slide deeper and hit all the spots that will send her reeling into this orgasm and the next.
Your gaze is stuck however, not to her curves rippling in excess, the damage of your thrusts pounding her body to ruin, or the look of flawless pleasure twisting up the pretty features of Hyewon's reflection, but instead it's the fucking flash and catch of the diamond that adorns her fourth finger. Even when you have her completely helpless, bent on your mercy, she's still wearing that promise, that intention to have and to hold, and you think, for at least a second, this whole roleplay thing isn't the worst idea: being a surrogate to fulfill someone's wildest fantasies. It might even be enough to make you hard all over again - the thrill and the debasement of your girl, lines quickly blurring between the Hyewon you'll take home and put back together and the Hyewon you're fucking pouding into a mattress - the here and now.
"Fuck, Hyewon," you find yourself swearing - steadying the hips rolling back in your palms, bending down until the flat of your chest meets her back, until your nose is in her hair, the long strands sticking to her lips and the back of her ears. Until you feel her shaking as you suckle against her skin, at her neck, hot kisses between the shoulder blades, finding a grip in her hands. Her grip in yours - as she's muffling these exquisite, needy sounds; she is perfect. Hyewon is perfect.
The first time you cum, it's this hot splatter of white: smeared across her ass and the crease of her lower back. It feels almost dirty to think that's just how you feel about it; your heart is stuttering in its erratic pace, but your eyes are drawn and enraptured, the sight of it all.
Then second, maybe your favorite: when she slips her hand to your aching shaft and simply takes you back inside her. This soft, wet, inviting heat that pulls you back to her.
"God- please," her head tips back, you feel the arch of her back through her ribs and stomach, the way her breath catches as you slide your cock through her creamed-out-cunt so much harder and smoother. "It feels so fucking good, baby," and there are tears now, welling in the corner of her eyes, "don't stop, God don't ever stop-"
She can barely finish her sentence before she's cut off, a moan ripped from the bottom of her lungs and a gasp straight from the pain-pleasure that has your balls slapping against her pussy every other stroke. And suddenly she's sitting, or rather, squirming into your arms, her face buried in your shoulders as she starts riding you, and not-quite crying and saying again - again, the whole filthy lot of things: about her wanting you to fill her, to plug her up with your cock. Every thrust she whines in your ears, clutching onto the fabric of your shirt and making a mess of herself in you.
It's this wild and reckless thing that makes its way around the room, on every surface and bit of furniture. You fuck her over the counter, let her ride you on the sofa, the chair, the two of you managing to find some sort of assistance in the wall even, the door frame, her legs up your sides and the slippery-sticky-heat of your mouths connecting and everything that isn't exactly meant to support that kind of strain buckling and nearly giving way - once when the wooden joints in the door-frame shift, once when she begs for release in that frantic voice that doesn't sound a thing like her. And the way she comes apart under you after, on top of you - is even sweeter; you imagine there's this endless possibility for love, for pleasure, a whole world in bundled in the notion that you could do it for her again, that it was always a question of Hyewon letting you have her that way, and the rest was mere foreplay - a stretch.
Only, on the bed again, Hyewon shivers beneath you, this full-body response, and you've got her stretched as she opens up - that the slightest of movements has her already whimpering out "fuck," and "please," and "right there," and "fuck you're going to make me come like this. You're so good, just fucking," and "more, harder, please, you feel so fucking good-"
The desperation for release is so palpable in her that it's curling into your stomach as your press Hyewon's knees into the points and edges of her shoulders and fold in her half - this perfect angle of leverage. Fucking her like she's yours and no one else's - the absolute delight of her cunt, wet, hot, and desperate to milk you empty - her body quaking at the force of each thrust, and the hungry grind of your hips into hers. Her fingers digging and knotting in the sheets around you until her knuckles pale, and your own grasp on her skin threatens to bruise.
"Inside me," she gasps out, because she can feel that edge just as well as you, "I want you to fill me, just cum inside, God, you always feel so amazing, fuck, like that, cum inside me, cum in me-"
"How could I say no, especially when you ask so sweetly," you tell her, kissing into her smile, "can you take another? Baby, look at me, look into my eyes, yeah? Look right back at me."
Her eyes blink and roll back a bit, almost losing focus and her eyelashes flutter - the creases in her brow, the elegant lines of her face locking up in the overwhelming tension, then, a peak.
And a demand, meekly asking you to fill her up. Until there's nothing left. "Cum," Hyewon moans, "for the love of fuck-"
You push her past her climax until she's practically weeping, sobbing through a litany of nonsense and slurred, unfinished sentences and almost howls, struggling beneath your weight and coaxing her fingers over the surge at the base of your spine. Before a hot liquid mess bursts out of you, into the deepest reach of Hyewon's throbbing cunt - cumming inside her, while you hold her down, not allowing her to move as your hips lock and you're both left groaning in utter agony.
(This was the thing you'd told her once - cumming inside her was almost always worth the effort it took to clean it all back out. You like the possessive aspect of it, maybe the slight humiliation, and more than anything, she'll just melt: once she's gone past the immediate discomfort. If anyone could really learn to get off on feeling a little filthy, it's the two of you. And she knows that too, Hyewon's eager little pout intimates, as she blinks down to watch where the two of you connect.)
You don't say much for the next while. If there's a line where this particular escapade blends back into your normal life, where the Hyewon curled up in the sheets is your own girl and not some half-conceived entity that didn't fit the reality of the rest of the evening, or how you see Hyewon everyday, even then, it’s not clear.
She's utterly boneless - this fragile, dazed thing that runs her palms all the way around her breasts and pulls up her stockings a little further up the line of her hips, as if you weren't going to peel them back and slip them all the way off when you had the wherewithal to handle it. But the strength in her isn't entirely lost either, she looks ready to burst: this air of pride and smugness - victory, right in her grin, which isn't totally surprising. Hyewon usually gets an odd satisfaction out of your participation in whatever hedonistic or obscene thing it is she wants to try.
This was her fantasy - maybe not a deeply rooted or unattainable one, but she'd worked out some kinks of hers and has walked away a far better woman for it, knowing what a sight she is to you. Like this.
"That was... fun," Hyewon eventually says, collecting articles of clothing strewn about the room.
Her shoes are one of two sets in the shoe-rack, but she'll have to look around and under the bed to find her dress. It would probably be some strange level of easy to play dumb and wait until she comes to the conclusion on her own that she should bend down and check down there, but she looks a little too worn out to really be interested in her clothes, more like, ready for the next part.
"We should do it again," her gaze lands, intent, and serious, back to you.
"Which part?" you have to ask, because you're probably still, a little slow on the uptake.
A small laugh, the sly smirk to herself; she knows she has you wrapped so perfectly around her finger, ready to bend to whatever game she can come up with: "whichever part you like."
1K notes · View notes
conarcoin · 1 year
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So Elon bought Twitter. I'm honestly not gonna push away Twitter newcomers, but if you're in the MCYT fandom you need to understand that the social etiquette and expectations and culture here are very different than over on Twitter. So as someone who's been an active part of mcytblr for two years now, I'd like to offer some thoughts and advice!
One: Shipping. MCYT communities on Tumblr have always tended to lean more tolerant towards shipping of roleplay characters due to the idea that this is a space for fans primarily. The creators who visit or actively use Tumblr like Eret and Martyn understand that this is a fan space primarily, and don't bother us for the content we make, and we don't bother them with it.
The number one worst thing you could do is share shipping content with creators who have not asked for it. This is a huge social faux pas here. Secondly, on the other end — writing callout posts for shippers here isn't gonna fly. Even for RPF shippers and people who may ship boundary-breaking pairings, our default is usually to not engage with these people rather than publicly call them out. It makes the space a healthier place for everyone and makes it much less likely that CCs may come across content they are uncomfortable with. It's also considered a social faux pas to ask CCs their opinions and boundaries on shipping, since that's bringing it up when they didn't ask!
Speaking of shipping, people typically don't mind you maintagging ship content so long as you also tag it as shipping so people can filter it. For Hermitcraft the tag is hermitshipping, Life Series has trafficshipping, and the lesser known DSMP tag is dsmpshipping.
Two: Reblogging. This is something a lot of newer users tend to struggle with. There is no algorithm on Tumblr, at least not one that works, so content creators rely on you reblogging their work in order for it to spread. If you see a fic or piece of art you enjoy, please reblog it! I often reblog art for MCYT fandoms I'm not even personally in.
Three: Tagging (again). There are a wide variety of tags you can use for your content! The most common tags you'll want to use are "mcyt" and "mcytblr", and any relevant series, pairing/group or character/CC names. However, please don't use the tag "minecraft"! Minecraft has an entirely separate fanbase on Tumblr that we co-exist with and have some overlap with, but don't necessarily appreciate seeing MCYT content in their tags. Any tag with "minecraft" in it is also a no-no, such as "minecraft youtubers" or "minecraft championships". Please use shorthands!
Four: Opinions on MCYT drama tend to be very different here than they are on Twitter. For instance, you should assume by default that most bloggers here either like or are completely neutral towards "problematic CCs" like Schlatt. But also, we tend to be very against spreading anything originating from leakers, and we also tend to not be fond of making posts "holding CCs accountable" for things they did years ago. Generally, mcytblr prefers to be a more drama-free community, and if you do engage in discourse, many would appreciate you tagging it as such!
Five: CCs do not need you to babysit them.
Generally speaking you will see a lot of jokes and memes on mcytblr that wouldn't fly on Twitter, and it is generally looked down upon to try to speak on behalf of CCs personal boundaries — they are grown adults, and you are a stranger! Calling out or harassing people for "breaking boundaries" is mostly just going to get you looked at strangely, especially if you don't have a source for your claims. Most of us will stop doing something if asked, but we don't need stans to tell us to! CCs can speak for themselves when uncomfortable.
Six: Most mcytblr blogs don't want CC notices. There are quite a few CCs who are active here, but the community is chill with them as they don't tend to talk about us elsewhere and allow us to do our own thing. We do not, however, like encouraging CCs to join Tumblr or to follow us or reblog our posts — many people here actually prefer being out of sight of CCs and many of us consider it rude to seek out attention from CCs outside of sending the occasional ask.
Please treat CCs kindly and don't gawk at them like you just saw a celebrity on the street — the ones who are active here are just Tumblr users like the rest of you! Seeing Eret reblog fanart or respond to an ask isn't something to point out.
While we joke about Twitter users joining, we don't actually have anything against you guys, it's just that we've built a very different community here and ask that you respect it and the etiquette we've come to establish! Thank you, and I hope you enjoy your stay on mcytblr ^_^
7K notes · View notes
marvelsswansong · 2 years
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tornado warnings
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summary: out of all the girls Eddie could like, of course he'd pick Jason Carver's girlfriend. He kept ignoring the warnings, and now he's in too deep.
tags: Eddie x fem!reader, pining!Eddie, friends to lovers, requited love but both parties are idiots, Dustin trying to talk sense into Eddie, cw for Jason being a misogynistic asshole, song fic, pure fluff, slow burn ish, oneshot
☆ word count: 6.5K+ (she's worth it i promise) ☆
⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️
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It's sprialed out of control. Eddie knows that now.
It's as if he's been struck by lightning, the realization jolting him awake when your fingers deftly brush against his whilst you pass over the chemistry pop quiz. The touch lasts for less than two seconds, accompanied by a friendly smile and a quiet "good luck" thrown in, but it's enough for him to falter and almost let the paper slip from his fingers.
It reminds him of the first time you two met, late after school - you because of cheerleading practice, him because of detention.
Eddie was exhausted. Having shown up late to school with mismatched socks and his roleplaying notebook forgotten by the driver's seat of his van - not that it mattered anymore, considering he had to cancel tonight's session due to detention - he swore that the world was out to get him.
It was half past five and the spring rain was unrelenting, the pitter patter of water droplets against glass windows drowning out all other noise. Eddie scowled, not even the weather was on his side today. He'd have to make a run for it to his car, with nothing more than a floppy notebook to hold over his head.
His footsteps faltered, however, when he heard a feminine voice swear followed by the clattering of metal. Peeking his head around the corner, he was met with none other than the sight of you struggling to open up your locker, delicate fingers fumbling with the lock desperately.
"Oh for fuck's sake." you swore, trying the combination again and pulling the lock with all your strength to no avail. Dropping your duffel bag onto the floor, you tried again, this time grasping the metal lock with both your manicured hands.
No luck.
Sighing, you dropped your arms and fell forward onto your locker head first, before perking up and looking around for someone to ask for help - perhaps a janitor would know how to deal with this. Your eyes met Eddie's, and his eyes widened in an instant (fearing the worst, being caught staring wordlessly at one of the most popular girls in school) but your eyes lit up with recognition and joy.
"Hey! Eddie, right?" you called out, waving him over.
You knew his name? Eddie was simultaneously flattered and shocked, considering you two were separated by several stratospheres in the popularity pyramid. He was in your Advanced Physics class junior year before he dropped down to regular Physics, and even then you sat by the front row with the rest of the cheerleading squad whilst he doodled in his notebooks at the back.
"Do you think you could try opening up my locker for me? I left some important notes in there and my European History test is tomorrow, so I really need them." you sheepishly added, leaning against your locker. Eddie hesitated for a few seconds - was this a trick? Why were you being so nice to him? Why was the smile on your face so pure and so genuine, never once faltering?
Ignoring the sirens going off in his mind, he wordlessly nodded and walked up to your locker.
"The combination is 8-1-8-2."
He spun the dials around and tugged at the lock, but it remained stuck. He tried again, being extra careful to spin the numbers to the exact digit this time, but it still didn't budge.
"Nothing?" you questioned anxiously, peeking over from behind his shoulder. Eddie just grinned at that, hand flying to his jean front pocket to fish out an extra hairpin.
"Maybe not. Hold on."
Bending the metal pin straight, he fumbled with the little hole at the bottom of the lock, until a satisfying 'click' rang out. He was then able to finally unhook the lock and open it up to the contents of your locker - textbooks and folders spilling with notes neatly piled up at the bottom, with a Dior perfume, tube of lipstick and a jar of gummies sitting on the top shelf.
He was about to make a lighthearted joke about the gummies when the joke died in his mouth at the warm sensation of your arms wrapping around his waist, face buried in his shirt as you joyously embraced him.
"YES! Thank you so much, Eddie, you are a lifesaver!"
The sudden burst of affection was totally foreign to him and his senses were going haywire - overwhelmed at how your hair was tickling his exposed skin, your sweet scent (notes of caramel, honey and vanilla) evident but not too strong from this proximity. He fumbled over what to do with his arms, not knowing what was appropriate to do, before awkwardly settling on patting your back with his left hand.
"It's uh, no big deal." he managed to stutter out, small grin on his lips. A grin far outshined by the massive one on yours, bubbly laughter flowing as you quickly dug out the notes from your locker before slamming it shut and locking it back up.
There was another foreign sensation now beginning to register in his brain. Warmth, pleasant fires kindling in his lower stomach, an ache in his chest to have you close to him again. And his next sentence was blurted out before he could even think through all the repercussions.
"Do you need a ride home? Since it's raining and all."
"Yeah! That'd be great."
Following the locker incident, you began to wave at him and exchange quick greetings with him in the hallways. It was a minor change, a verbal acknowledgment instead of silent smiles and polite nods, but that didn't stop others from giving Eddie dirty looks. After all, why was the most popular girl in school giving any time of her day to the resident school freak?
Truth be told, he didn't understand it either. But he wasn't going to complain either, only returning the gestures wholeheartedly. This amicable state of acquaintance - knowing each other's names and being friendly, but never crossing the line into friendship - was broken less than a week later, when he was sitting in Mr.Wilson's office and being lectured about how he really needed to get his grades up.
"I've assigned you a tutor. She's one of my star students and she's kindly agreed to tutor you for free, so please do show up on time and try." the elderly man sighed under his breath, pushing his metal rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose before shuffling through a stack of papers.
"Her name's (Y/n). I'll leave the specifics of the arrangement up to the two of you, but the expectation is one session every week or two. Understood?"
"Understood, sir."
So here he was now. Standing in front of your house, double checking the address scribbled down hurriedly onto his notebook for the hundredth time, agonizing over what to do. Should he knock? Ring the door bell? He was a few minutes early, maybe it'd be best to just wait for you outside-
"Hi there!" you exclaimed, throwing open the door excitedly, making him jump back in surprise. "Come on in, we can go up to my room."
Your hands were preoccupied with drying your wet hair with a towel - it looked as if you had just emerged from the shower, the thought of which made his throat dry, a dirty sight he had to immediately scrub from his mind. Not that it worked particularly well, not when you were wearing an oversized black t-shirt that showed off your legs and the cheerleading shorts you had on hugged your thighs perfectly.
Carefully eyeing the living room and kitchen, he half expected for your parents to jump out and begin to interrogate him as to his identity.
"Are your... parents around?" he'd asked quietly, fingers anxiously twiddling by his sides. You shook your head sideways.
"My parents work out of state most of the time. My godfather drops by every few days though to make sure I'm fine though."
He raised his eyebrows at that, following behind you up the stairs.
"Doesn't that get lonely?"
You hummed, dabbing the last droplets of water from your forehead.
"I guess so. But Hopper - my godfather - has a lot of friends in the community so I get invited over to a lot of things. Plus cheerleading and school stuff keeps me pretty busy so it's not too bad."
You then pushed open the door to your bedroom with your shoulder, stepping backwards to let Eddie in first.
He marveled at how well organized your room was: sunflowers potted by the windowsill, a collection of vinyls leaning against a propped up vinyl record player playing a slow Whitney Houston song. White wardrobe pushed against the wall next to pastel pink drawers, makeup and skincare products neatly placed one after another.
Your cheerleading uniform was ironed and nicely draped over a cushy velvet chair, a full length body mirror with polaroids of you and your friends stuck to its sides on the white wooden frame.
You led him over to your study desk, pristine and white, and gestured to the chair to your left. He was still drinking in the sight of your room as you closed the door shut and hung your towel over the frame of your bed - which was complete with frilly lace sheets, pink and yellow cushions, bumblebee patterns stitched into the fabric.
In summary, Eddie thought, the whole room was so damn... clean and cute. A stark and sore contrast to his messy room, unfolded laundry everywhere and his walls crowded with his guitar and various metal band posters. He was just grateful now that he had insisted on doing the first session at your place instead of his.
"Everything okay?" you questioned, noticing his silence and awed expression. He blinked at you wordlessly at that, mind blanking in an instant.
"Yep! Amazing. Awesome, really. Just very stoked to get started on this exciting English Literature." he boasted, tapping his hand down on the thick textbook. You giggled at that, leaning against your chair.
"Listen, I know that Steinbeck and Fitzgerald aren't as exciting as Iron Maiden or Black Sabbath, but I promise you that there's a charm to these authors as well."
"You know about Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath?" Eddie perked up at that, pleasantly surprised. You rolled your eyes playfully, as if it was common knowledge.
"Duh, what else would I listen to whilst I jog? I can't say I'm as big of a fan as you, but I do listen to a bit of everything and metal is a cool genre."
It was his turn to chuckle, leaning forward onto the table to rest his head on his palms.
"You know, (L/n), you're not at all like what I'd expected you to be."
"What'd you mean by that, Munson?" you challenged, quirking up your eyebrows teasingly, his heart skipping a beat at the action.
"Nothing bad, I promise! Just, I don't know, your friends aren't as friendly or as cool as you."
You click your tongue at that, faux frown on your glossy lips.
"But aren't we friends? And you're plenty cool and friendly."
Friends. The word felt heavy on his tongue, goosebumps rising on his skin. Plus, you'd called him cool and friendly - by far the nicest thing any popular student had ever said to him. All logic flew out the window at that moment, walls tumbling down faster than the next words on his lips.
"Of course we're friends."
It was dangerous territory, a quiet voice was nagging him in the crevices of his mind that this was totally new and treacherous - accepting the friendship of the most popular and desired girl in school. The sirens were blaring in his head, red warning signs clouding his vision.
But Eddie consciously chose to turn the other way, running farther into your embrace.
"Cool. Glad to hear it, friend."
Once the initial hurdle was jumped over, the label of 'friends' hanging over you and Eddie, everything fell into place. Weeks flew by with tutoring sessions filled with inside jokes and excited ramblings, with Eddie taking every chance to insert a dirty joke in somehow to make you laugh.
He walked you from class to class at your insistence, your sharp glare at any staring passerbys enough to shut them up. Conversation was never awkward, there was plenty to talk about. His D&D sessions, the latest Metallica record, the next football game that Eddie would begrudgingly turn up to (but ultimately always would, just to be able to hug you in celebration afterwards).
It was all platonic, he told himself. Sure, he thought you were pretty and fun, but that didn't mean anything. He had it all under control, he reasoned, no, insisted. He was feigning igornace, arguing with his inner voice that it was all just excitement and nerves over having a friend who was popular.
"A lot on your mind?" you asked him a few months later, tongue swiping across the top of your ice cream, legs uncrossing underneath your cheerleading uniform.
You'd insisted on celebrating his first A in English Literature by going out for ice cream - "it's on me" you'd added, making it impossible to say no. It was a sizzling hot summer day and both of you were seeking refuge under the shade of a large willow tree, sitting on the roof of Eddie's van with him only a few inches separated from you.
'Yes.' Eddie wanted to say. 'I can't stop thinking about you.' he wanted to confess. 'I hear your laughter whilst I fold my clothes. I see you in the corner of my eyes everywhere I go, laying on my sofa with your legs dangling off the armrest, smiling at me in the rearview mirror from the backseat of my car.'
But he didn't say that.
"Not really. Just still reeling from the fact that I got an A." he joked, choosing to suppress his inner thoughts.
"Aw, well, you're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for, Eds. This is just the beginning, I know it."
Humming, he shot you a quick wink.
"I'll take your word for it, doll."
Both of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, until a loud shriek was heard from inside the ice cream store. A girl Eddie vaguely recognized from one of his classes was nodding fiercely and hugging her boyfriend close, making his eyebrows raise in piqued curiosity.
"Oh, probably just a promposal for the dance next week." you commented lazily, tongue flicking at the top of your cone.
"Are you... going?" Eddie tested the waters, eyes cautiously picking apart your reaction.
"Yeah, I am! Jason's being really difficult about the color palette we're matching as though. He wants pink and blue, I'd rather we do yellow and blue or pink and white."
Eddie's vision flashed white at the mention of Jason's name, bone chilling cold seeping through his chest.
"Jason as in... Jason Carver?"
You nodded, and the pain he felt upon seeing the fond smile that spread across your lips instantly felt worse than a million needle pricks at his heart.
"That's him. He can be kind of difficult at times but... he's my boyfriend and I love him, you know?"
Eddie knew he'd never have a chance with you. He never deluded himself into that fantasy, but now it was confirmed, written in clear black and white: you were taken. Not only that, but you loved Jason Carver. He was your boyfriend.
It made total sense. How had Eddie not noticed it before? Perhaps you had mentioned it to him previously, an off the cuff comment here and there, but Eddie wasn't listening carefully. Too intoxicated on your quiet giggles, too busy admiring the golden sunlight kissing your hairline.
It was impossible to prevent the smile from dissipating from his face, a forced grin instead replacing his genuine warm smile.
"Yeah. Makes sense, I guess."
"How about you, Eds?" you excitedly asked, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Anyone caught your eye that you want to take to the dance?"
It burned his mouth to respond, heart throbbing, fingers strained by his sides.
"Yeah, but uh... I don't think I'll be able to make it, so I'm not going to ask her."
You frowned at that and there were a few drops of strawberry ice cream hanging from your lips, which Eddie reached out to wipe away with his thumb instinctively.
"S-sorry." he muttered out, retracting his hand quickly as if he'd been burnt.
"Yeah, you better be." Jason barked out from behind Eddie, making him straighten up in alarm, not having heard Jason's car pull into the parking lot.
The jock glared at Eddie as he walked around to wrap a possessive arm around your waist, pulling you right against his figure. Your widening smile was unmissable, so was the way you kicked your legs forward in delighted joy when Jason suddenly swooped down and pressed a harsh kiss against your lips.
Eddie awkwardly averted his gaze as Jason continued to glare at the metalhead from over your shoulder, deepening the kiss possessively, his vice grip only loosening from your waist when you patted him on the back indicating that you needed air.
"Ready to go, babe?" Jason asked, not even missing a beat. You nodded, scrunching up the paper cup in your hands and throwing it away to the nearest bin.
"I'll catch you round?" you asked cheerfully, linking your hands with Jason and shooting Eddie a hopeful smile. The smart answer to give would've been to make up an excuse, to cut the friendship there and for good - especially with how Jason was steaming with anger next to you, blue icy eyes narrowing in on Eddie's figure.
There was a storm brewing, toxic smoke billowing into the air. But Eddie stood there, unwavering, only nonchalantly rolling back his shoulders and winking at you.
"Yep. See you round."
Jason's hatred for Eddie only intensified as time went on - you'd tagged along to a D&D session once and the jock found you leaning over Eddie mid-dice roll, metal ring clad fingers on top of yours as he guided you. Eddie waited for you after school whenever you had late practice to drive you back home, only for Jason to then pop out of nowhere and insist on driving you home (though he lived in the opposite direction from you).
"I don't fucking trust you, freak." Jason once spat the moment you ran off to the bathroom, leaving the two men to be standing around your locker. "I don't know what the fuck my girlfriend sees in you, but you better not be dragging her into any of your shit."
Eddie clenched his jaw, fists grasping and ungrasping by his sides in an attempt to control his anger.
"Relax, Carver. We're just friends."
Jason just rolled his eyes at that, stepping forward threateningly.
"Yeah, friends. Just don't get your dick hard thinking she's yours. She shouldn't be wasting her time on you anyways."
Eddie's blood boiled at the way the basketball player talked about you, wanting to control and dictate everything you did.
"She's not property for you to fucking control, jackass." he retorted, only succeeding in causing Jason's nostrils to flare with fury.
"I'm back, and I- Oh." you paused, noticing the tension lingering in the air and the defensive postures. "Is everything alright?"
The boys stared at each other silently, hatred still tinging the air, but it all melted into fake smiles on both their faces when turning to you.
"Yep." they both affirmed.
"Everything's... perfect. Just as it should be." Jason slowly drawled, eyeing Eddie up and down. It was a threat, an alarm bell ringing right by his ears. It dawned on Eddie that this was becoming unavoidable now, the mess that he was in, his love for you an unstoppable tornado.
It was incredibly reckless to continue to be friends with you. But god, it felt so damn good.
So out of selfish nature or not, Eddie didn't pull away. He chose to clutch on to you tighter, grit his teeth harder, damn all the consequences that would follow. He'd wander closer into the eye of the storm, wholeheartedly and willingly, all for you.
Though Jason wasn't silent about his unhappiness over your friendship with Eddie, you never let it affect you. So Eddie continued to be your friend, maybe even best friend at this point after six months, what in between Saturday movie nights and late evening talks on the bleachers after practice.
Eddie forced himself to be content with being your go-to platonic company: of helping you pick out a dress for your date with Jason whilst leaning against the headboard of your bed, carrying your things for you at school as you rushed to class after cheerleading practice, laughing with you over a pack of cheep bear in someone's backyard during a loud house party.
It hurt - doing all the things couples did, but under the label of friendship and under Jason's persistent gaze. After all, Eddie was the one to hold your hair back when you'd had too much to drink at the end of year summer party, helping to wipe your mouth with a stray towel and gently guiding a water bottle to your lips.
Your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, having ditched you the moment his fellow basketball players called him over. It made Eddie furious, how it seemed Jason only wanted you as a trophy to show off to the school before abandoning you in favor of his friends, but you seemed to be blind to it.
Besides, Eddie reasoned, who was he to intervene? Overall, you were happy, right?
The metalhead wasn't even in the bathroom with you for more than three minutes when Jason came pummeling through the door, chest heaving with anger upon having been told that you were seen stumbling into an empty bathroom with Eddie 'the freak' Munson.
The jock never said it - at least in front of Eddie - but it was clear that he suspected something more than friendship, you two always tilting dangerously close into romantic territory. Jason ordered Eddie out, insisting that you were in need of your boyfriend instead of him, and with a heavy heart Eddie sighed and wandered back into the party.
He still thought about you the rest of the night though, no matter how many jaegar bomb shots he downed.
Come autumn, and it wasn't just Jason who saw what was going on. At this point, you were beloved by everyone in the Hellfire Club and you'd even swung by Eddie's trailer multiple times. Wayne and the kids would all tease Eddie for his clear infatuation with you, which Eddie would vehemently deny, though he knew deep down they were right.
"So are you ever going to admit that you like her?" Dustin teased, knocking his shoulder into the older boy's.
They were sitting on the railings of the skate park, the boys having lost a game of rock-paper-scissors with Max to pick between going to the arcade or to the skate park. The redhead was busy coaching you on how to skate - your legs wobbly on the skateboard as Max held onto your arms, wide amused smiles on both your faces - whilst Lucas and Mike ran off to the corner store to get some water.
"What, (Y/n)?" Eddie tried to play dumb.
"Duh, who the hell else?" Dustin retorted, appalled that his friend would even try to feign ignorance.
Both boys picked up their heads at the sound of loud laughter, your back on the pavement as you seemingly fell, Max laughing so hard that she had tears in her eyes and was hunched over to clutch her stomach. The fond smile gracing Eddie's lips was instantaneous- you were always so good with the kids, they all adored you. The boys pestered you for gaming tips, Max and you bonded over music, Erica thought you were the "coolest adult" she knew.
It made Eddie fall even deeper for you, his heart now fully in the eye of the hurricane. You were ripping down all his walls, your laughter destructive and haunting. You left him dizzy and stumbling through the hallways, heart heavy with infatuation, lips aching to be on yours.
"There. Right there." Dustin commented, pointing right at Eddie's face. "You get that stupid grin on your face whenever she smiles or talks or shit, does anything really. We all have bets on when you're finally gotta make a move, so when are you?"
Eddie shoved off the curly haired boy, fingers scrambling to brush off the sleeves of his jacket in false boredom.
"For the millionth time, Henderson, she has a boyfriend. Said boyfriend, who by the way, hates me and frankly I don't feel like being a homewrecker." he spat, venom dropping from his voice at the thought of Jason. Letting out a short exhale, he flashed the younger boy a tired smile.
"Besides, we've been friends for like, what, over half a year now? The ship has sailed, I've got no chance."
"You're just saying that because you don't see the way she looks at you." the younger boy insisted. "Seriously. Friends don't look at each other like that."
Eddie had nothing to say to that, you looking up from the opposite site of the skate park to wave at the two boys with delight, which they both quickly returned. The fluttering in Eddie's stomach was easy to anticipate at this point, as was the heavy pang in his heart at the realization that Jason would be coming to pick you up in a short bit.
"She's just being nice, Dustin." Eddie muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair.
You looked ethereal whilst skating, so carefree, hair flowing in the wind as your knees bent and braced for the dip off the edge. Fading red orange sunlight accentuating the dip and curve of your facial features, autumn foliage stuck in your messy hair.
You'd come into his life, a tornado, and destroyed his whole being. He was wandering alone now, knees brushing up against green fields with nothing but trees surrounding him, but Eddie didn't mind.
So long as he got to continue to watch you smile like that.
Cut to the present, Eddie's mindlessly filling out the pop quiz, brain still fuzzy from your touch lingering over his skin, ghostly yet ever so present. The rest of the class flies by and it's the end of the school day, so Eddie quickly moves to shove his things into his bag, crushing all his paper notes with the haste with which he does so.
"Any plans for tonight?" you ask, tossing your bag over your shoulder.
It's Friday night, which to everyone else means parties and fancy dinners, but to Eddie it usually means going back to the trailer and watching a rerun of a shitty sitcom over a bowl of microwave mac and cheese. Not that he'll tell you that, though.
"Not really. Why, up for another spontaneous drive through town?" he teases, heart fluttering hopefully. You sigh and shake your head sideways.
"Can't - Jason's taking me out on a date, but... rain check for maybe next Friday?" you question, peeking up from your lashes.
"Sure, next Friday." the bitter smile and forced ambivalence to his tone is painful, but it's a dull ache he's made peace with at this point. "If anything changes, you know where to find me." Eddie jokes, cocking his head to the side.
And unexpectedly, things do change.
In the blink of an eye, it seems.
Eddie's mid-way through the rented copy of Evil Dead, hands stuck in a greasy bowl of popcorn as he lies chest down on the sofa, blue light from the television illuminating his tired face, until someone bangs against his trailer door furiously.
Jumping up at the sudden loud noise, he pauses the VHS tape, abandoning his bowl of popcorn on the couch before throwing open the door.
It's you, mascara running down your cheeks, arms crossed over your chest, clutching at your skin so harshly that the baby blue dress you're wearing bunches at your waist.
"I broke up with him." is the first thing you say, voice shaky, body still trembling. "He said some, fuck, awful things, Eds. Really awful things. I had no choice and I know it was the right thing to do but-"
Your voice breaks as another wave of tears overwhelms you.
"But then why does it still hurt?"
Eddie's quick to shush you and envelope you into his arms, not caring that your makeup is probably smudging against his shirt, his hands coming up to comfortingly cradle your head against his chest. Your body trembles with every sob that escapes your lips and Eddie presses a soft kiss to your hairline, wishing nothing more than to take your pain away from you.
His mind is whirring with a million different things to say to you, but your comfort is on the forefront of his mind above all.
"Hey... have you ever been to the park by Saint Street? You know, the one with the playground." he quietly suggests, pulling away slightly.
You look up at him, confused, wiping your eyes.
"I don't think so, why?"
Picking up the jean jacket thrown over his kitchen counter, he digs out his car keys from the side pocket and extends his left hand out for you to grab.
"Because. We should go. It's impossible to be sad at a playground."
It's a stupid thing to say, childish even, but it does the job of putting a smile back onto your face, your cold hands grasping his warm ones. It's a quick drive - no less than 15 minutes - but he can't help but look over at you at every intersection and red light, making sure that you're okay.
He jumps out first to open the car door for you before helping you climb over the metal fence - "no one comes by, I swear" he assures you - shaky feet meeting dead leaves and dirt, he's quick to tug you towards the swing set.
He refuses to let you talk - "play first, until you stop crying" - and he insists on pushing you on the swing as high as he can. He chases you down the slides then races you to the top of the jungle gym, drunk off of your bubbly laughter and the way your eyes twinkle in the moonlight.
Neither of you know how much time has passed before you two sit across from each other on the seesaw, ribs hurting from the lack of oxygen. You can faintly make out Eddie's features in the dark - moonlight illuminating his curls, amused grin on his handsome face (the same face you've been unable to stop thinking about for the past few months).
"So what'd Jason say?" Eddie asks, leaning forward. "But only if you wanna talk about it, of course." he clarifies.
You let out a slow exhale, nodding tiredly.
"No, no, you... you deserve to know. Jason was on edge at the restuarant - I didn't think much of it, he's always a bit on edge - but he just went crazy today. Like, the moment the waiter left he started screaming at me, accusing me of cheating on him."
"Cheating on him?" Eddie strains his neck with the speed with which he picks his head up to stare at you, wide mouthed. "You? You would never!"
You scoff at that, thumbs anxiously twiddling on your lap.
"I know. That's what I tried to tell him but he wouldn't hear it. Just kept on going and on about how I was clearly in love with-" you stop yourself then, the gravity of the situation falling into place like dominoes.
You just broke up with your boyfriend of nearly a year. You came to Eddie crying, showing up at his doorstep in a heartbeat. Now you two are staring at each other in the park, leaned over opposite sides of a fucking seesaw, pouring each other's feelings out into the chilly winter air.
"With who?" he furrows his eyebrows and you almost want to laugh at how oblivious he is. You suppose maybe you've been hiding it well - well enough for Eddie to not notice how your touch has always lingered a bit too long on his skin, how your head so easily found home in the crook of his neck, how you began to prioritize meeting up with him over your fellow cheerleaders.
But not well enough for Jason, eagle eyed and jealous, constantly hovering over your interactions with Eddie and deluding himself with the gossip around school that you'd gone further than that.
"You."
It's whispered, heart falling to the bottom of your stomach at the confession now lingering in the open, cold and heavy.
"M-me?" Eddie stutters, clearly taken back. You lick your lips, chapped and dry, your shaky breaths coming out in small whisps of white smoke.
"Yeah. Jason insisted that it was clear that I was cheating on him with you and that we were spending way too much time to be just friends, and he... he called me a lying slut. Straight up. Screamed that I was whore to my face, demanded to know how many times we fucked behind his back."
"W-we never even kissed!"
"Yeah, I know." you chuckle sadly, shaking your head sideways, blinking away new tears which spring to your eyes. "But Jason didn't believe me. I dumped him, left him with the check and... I don't know, didn't feel like going home to an empty house. And I just... all I could think about was how much I wanted to see you."
Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. So he takes the safe route, nodding sympathetically and flashing you a small grin.
"Well, I'm glad that you did. I hope me dragging you to the playground wasn't the wrong thing to do." he teases, attempting to lighten the heavy mood. It works, soft grin tugging at your face.
"Yeah it definitely wasn't. Coming here was perfect."
The night breeze blows against your bare shoulders and it hits you that you really aren't dressed for the outside. Even if winter is only beginning to slowly roll in, it's still chilly enough to see your breath in front of your eyes in puffs of smoke and you've been sitting still on this seesaw for a while. So Eddie steps off to shrug off his jacket, musky earth tones warming your senses as he places it carefully around your shoulders.
"Thanks." you mutter, fingers grasping the lapels of the fabric.
"Don't mention it." he responds, waving you off.
A few beats of silence pass and then you throw your head back, staring up at the night sky full of stars.
"You know, weirdly though, I'm kind of relieved."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Deep down, I knew it wouldn't last. Too many red flags, you know? I just keep on ignoring them because... I don't know, really. Don't like change."
"I get that."
"God, feelings suck." you chuckle, shaking your head sideways. "Don't they? Pining, infatuation, love."
Eddie hums, nodding along.
"I'm there with you. For example-" he pauses. He's staring the storm right in the eye now, he has to made a decision.
He's tired of running, he decides.
"The girl I've been fawning over for almost a year now has been totally blind to my love for her and I'm exhausted." he makes it a point to stare straight at you with an unwavering intensity. "But she's worth it."
It's a shot in the dark but there's a surge of courage and adrenaline pumping through his veins, and the dark makes him more bold. He blames it on the wind rush, the night high, how beautiful you look in that velvet blue dress.
"She sounds like a very lucky girl." you choke out, mind blanking unexpectedly. Eddie nods and walks up towards you slowly, your throat running dry under the intensity of his stare.
"Yeah, and she's incredible, too. Head cheerleader. Great English Literature tutor. So funny, so kind, so damn beautiful, especially in blue. Great with kids, loved by my uncle, and I just heard-" his left hand comes over to brush up against your cheek. "That she's single. Funny how things work out like this, huh?"
You nod wordlessly, entranced by his warm brown eyes.
"It is."
You stand up cautiously, never once breaking eye contact with him, leaning in closer and closer. Eddie's expecting you to pull away from him in any instant, disgust springing onto your face or apologies falling from your lips, but you remain still. Your lashes fluttering shut is the last sign he needs before he commits to closing the gap and kissing you squarely on your lips, knocking the cold air out from your lungs.
It's a cold night but his skin's on fire, left hand springing up to cup your chin, other hand supporting your neck as he tugs you in even closer. You taste like cherry chapstick and smell like French perfume, velvet fabric brushing up against his arms as he backs you up against a park bench.
It's a messy kiss, all teeth and tongue, but he can't give a fuck. Not when his heart is soaring, fingertips electric, mind hazy at the realization that he is finally kissing his dream girl after a whole year of pining.
"Holy shit." you manage to say when you two pull apart, hair slightly messied and lips wet and plump.
"I hope that's a good holy shit, princess." Eddie teases, the nickname causing your stomach to flutter with butterflies.
"It's a good holy shit. A really good holy shit." you confirm, nodding fiercely. You both laugh at that, warmth blossoming across both your chests.
"W-why didn't you ever say anything?" you stutter out, head still reeling from the passionate kiss.
"I wanted to. God, I wanted to so many times. I knew I was falling for you from the beginning, all these little indicators and signs and the intrusive thoughts. But I kept on ignoring them and by the time I realized I loved you, I knew you were with Jason and you two seemed happy. And I didn't want to be selfish and intrude on your happiness like that."
He tugs you down onto his lap, sitting both your bodies down on the metal bench. Your hands come up to carress his cold cheeks, trembling thumbs rubbing up and down his jawline, eyes admiring the freckles on his nose and the specks of moonlight in his hair.
"Well, no need to ignore those warnings anymore, huh?" you say quietly, voice heavy with adoration.
He just nods, head falling forwards to rest on your chest, hearing your soft heartbeat through velvet fabric.
"Absolutely."
Eddie ignored the tornado warnings.
But in the wreckage, you two found each other, hands desperately grasping each other's in the darkness.
Burrowing his head into the crevice of your neck, he's content to stay with you in the aftermath of the disaster, so long as you continue to grip onto him like this.
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a/n: this was based on the song with the same title by Sabrina Carpenter! Please go stream and support her new album, 'emails I can't send', it is fantastic and there are so many other bangers on the album.
Speaking of which, the way that the metaphor of the tornado is used in the song is kinda different from how I used it here but idk, I thought it was a cute concept and the song motivated me to write it haha. Not sure how this fic will be received but I loved writing it :)
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eyes2eyes1989 · 2 years
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Name: Julia
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Pansexual
Power: While looking into the eyes of another she can make them feel either a great pain or euphoria.
Relationships: Julia was raised on a small farm in Canada, her parents refused to give her up and did they're best to train her, but they were lost in an accident leaving Julia to her own at the age of 17, She now lives alone walking distance from the Academy but no one really knows who she is.
Hair Color: Light brown
Eye Color: Hazel
Height: 5'7
Body Build: Slim
Distinguishing Marks: None
Positive Traits: Loyal, Caring, Honest
Negative Traits: Hot-headed
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cattimeswithjellie · 10 months
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I love Doc's villain arc so much, I cannot even tell you. Guy's out here going full Dr. Doofenschmirtz and I have nothing but love and respect for that. Wronged by his neighbors, he comes up with a full-on immensely complicated Evil Skull-inator that harnesses the incredible destructive power of the game's most destructive mob and uses it to... try and destroy Scarland's Yelp rating, basically.
I'm serious, he shoots wither bullets all over Scarland not to destroy and wreak havoc, but just because he thinks they look scary. He then does an entire little roleplay as an extremely German five-year-old child and their parent, touring Scarland and being terrified by the wither bullets so they leave a bad review. With his dastardly plan explained, he then has to clean up the mess he made in Scar's garden because to not do so would be unacceptably rude, and then he stops to gush a little bit over the wonderful armor stand art and how beautiful the whole place is. (He also explains to the audience that it is really hard to be a villain in a place like Hermitcraft because it is tough to get mad and stay mad at your friends.) Oh, and he also has a personalized musical number that plays while he is doing his villainy.
Basically all the guy needs at this point is a tragic backstory and a platypus (or maybe a gray tabby cat) in a fedora and he will fully realize his destiny as a cartoon villain.
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tempportal · 2 years
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                         I AM THE ACT OF CHANGE POSSESSED IN A                                                                                REVOLVER.                    I AM REVOLUTION PACKED INTO A SUITCASE                                                                                            BOMB.
independent, private, highly selective & canon-divergent NUMBER FIVE from THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY — Netflix and headcanon based with comic influences. calculated by RHYS.
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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months
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Sexuality Profile: Ari
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If you had to pick one word to summarize Ari's sexuality, it would have to be: Primal
Other good ones though: gentle, loving, wild, instinctual, hedonistic, lazy, possessive, and dominant
He's a natural guy and loves being naked.
He's the least manscaped of all your guys. You love his hairy chest and belly ... and you put up with everything else.
Due to his untamed forest, he gets the least amount of head out of any of your guys (and you've told him so, too). He doesn't care.
He'd rather be fingering you or having you jerk him off while the two of you kiss, faces close, sharing breath.
He hasn't said so, but you can tell he likes having period sex with you (so does Kemp, but with him it's more in a creepy way)
He knows you're a modern girl, okay? So he doesn't tell you not to shave down there, but he always gets grumpy whenever you return from a few days spent with "The Dolphins" (Lloyd, Kemp).
He makes fun of Lloyd and Kemp's neurotic grooming habits, (calling them "the dolphins" is because they're so waxed)
That's not to say that Ari is dirty, oh no. You probably find yourself in the shower, tub, or natural bodies of water with him more than anybody else.
He loves fucking outdoors, and always keeps blankets in his truck for shielding your delicate lady parts from the elements.
You often call him "Bear" (for obvious reasons)
He uses his teeth a lot (not as much as Kemp, though). He loves claiming you by marking you up with hickeys.
This man is a class 5 clinger: he likes to be plastered to your body when making love. He likes to feel the sweat on your body, the heaving of your lungs, likes to smell you, taste your pulse on his tongue.
so the position always winds up being either Missionary or Doggy style--both with him lying heavy right on top of you.
Though he's occasionally into long, gentle mutual edging sessions, in which case he'll have you sit in his lap, tantra style
He isn't the most "verbal" of all your guys, but he sure is the most animalistic-sounding during sex. You love all of his uninhibited grunts, growls, groans (and occasional roars)
Of all your guys, Ari's the biggest, okay? At 6' 3" and somewhere in the 220 lb range, he's got everybody else beat ...
... in both sheer body size and in what's between his legs (he's hung like a mother effin' beast)
It's both a length and a girth issue: the kind of big where he has to prep you first. Every time. Lube is must, and so is patience.
Luckily he's probably your most patient guy after Bucky. He's gets off hard on the process of getting you ready for him: starting with just the head and easing in to you inch by inch, working you open on his cock until your body can finally accept him.
He's too big to fuck you rough (it hits your cervix and you hate that), so when he wants to go harder, he uses a special ring at the base of his cock called a "penis bumper" (exactly what it sounds like)
He's not rough in bed so much as he is firm: he manhandles you around, putting you where he wants you. His attitude is gentle, his hands are strong and bossy.
Ari's number one specific kink is breeding. He loves anything to do with imagining knocking you up, seeing you pregnant, etc.
To this point, he's super into domestic roleplay, cumming inside you, and creampies
He's the only one of your guys you've never had sex with a condom on (as, before you became exclusive w/ the 5, he hadn't had intercourse with you).
And his one fantasy that he hasn't yet confided/fulfilled? He wants to have a rape CNC experience with you (nothing violent or even cruel, but definitely base: forceful and animalistic like a caveman)
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SugarBaby Series: Imagines masterpost for all five Daddies
Masterlist
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181 notes · View notes
notjustjavierpena · 8 months
Note
Love you fluff and spicy fics! They are the best kinds ;) can I request dates with Husband!Javi or DILF!Joel? (Would love to read them both but I’ll let you take the rein ;))
First: Date
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A/N: Enjoy, anon!
Summary: With the way your relationship started, you’ve never been on a first date. You do a fake first date.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)
Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), PIV sex, unprotected sex, clit stim, creampie, dirty talk, hot and desperate sex
Word count: 3.1k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48689506/chapters/122820544#workskin
Date
“We never actually had a first date, did we?” 
Joel looks down at you as you rest your head on his shoulder, his lips pressed into your hair. You cuddle up to him even more than before because he has just put a blanket over the both of you. He furrows his brow at the question, trying to understand what you are playing at. 
You’re not playing at anything. In fact, a very large part of you is happy that you never had to go through the torturous process of getting to know a stranger by taking them places and forcing them to answer uncomfortably personal questions. 
“No, we didn’t…” he says into your hair as if awaiting further instructions or explanations, “Why?”
You grab the remote to press play on your movie, then shrug nonchalantly, “No reason. The thought just came to me, popped into my head.”
“Is it something you want?” He continues as if treading carefully. 
“God no,” you turn your body a little in his arm to kiss him on the lips a few times, “I’m thankful that we skipped the heart palpitations and clammy hands, the painful silences.”
“I had nothing but clammy hands the first two weeks of just seeing you in the street,” he admits, bumping your noses together with red cheeks at his confession, “Felt like a fuckin’ teenager. Sarah near laughed her ass off.”
“And you didn’t ask me out,” you tut, then get an idea that has your face lighting up, “Wait… How would you have asked me out? How is your game?”
“Let me take you to dinner and you’ll find out,” he teases, focusing on turning back to the TV screen.
“Oooh, alright. You’re on. Pick me up at six.”
*
You agree on Friday at 6 pm. As soon as the roleplay is on, a ton of butterflies erupt inside your stomach at the thought of being wined and dined by Joel Miller. You don’t expect too much though, because the poor guy has previously already told you that the number of dates he has been on since Sarah’s mother passed can be counted on one hand. Despite no one having died, the same goes for you and that fact will surely make the evening a comical one.
At six o’clock your doorbell rings and you fix the straps of your dress for the millionth time in the hallway mirror before opening the door. 
Joel looks good. He has his usual jeans on, but has added a belt, and the t-shirt that he always wears has been substituted with one of his nice button-up shirts and it’s been neatly tucked into his pants. The wristwatch is still there, and the intoxicating smell of his cologne too, but despite all this grabbing your attention, it’s nothing compared to the handful of smaller sunflowers that he is holding out for you. 
“Oh, you sly bastard,” you grin, realizing now just how fun the night out will be. If Joel is doing this, you might as well roleplay along. You step forward to take the very homemade bouquet, “These are gorgeous, Joel, my favorite.”
“Figured roses were too cliche,” he states shyly. 
“Let me just put these in water,” you step away from the door to hold it open for him, “Come in. I’ll be ready in five.”
Joel steps silently inside, following you into the kitchen where you get a vase from on top of your refrigerator and start filling it with water. With a pair of kitchen scissors, you cut the stems at an angle.
“Nice place you got here,” Joel small-talks. He tries not to smile, but you can see that he fights the urge to chuckle at the silliness of the situation. 
“Thanks, yeah, a super cute guy helped me a lot over the summer,” you put the sunflowers into the vase, placing it on your kitchen island to be able to admire them in the morning light. 
“Oh?” Joel questions, placing a hand on the counter as he watches you fluff the sunflowers to make them look less messy after you’ve handled them, “Should I be concerned by competition?”
“Not if you knock it out of the park tonight, starting by telling me I look beautiful,” you say with a smile, walking up to him and trying not to kiss his stupid face. 
You are wearing Joel’s favorite dress of yours that hugs your chest and ass in a way that makes a few people turn their heads every time you go outside wearing it. 
“You look stunning,” he says as he looks down at you, then grins, “I have a few things planned for tonight, and I think you’ll like ‘em.”
“Lead the way.”
*
Joel takes you to a restaurant in the city of Austin. It is Italian in a cliché way; checkered tablecloths, candles in wine bottles, and, to top it off, a picture of Lady and the Tramp on the wall. It’s nothing that seems to appeal to Joel, but you cannot help but love it in the most wonderful childlike way and point it out as you enter the place.
Though to save him the pain of getting embarrassed, you order a pizza instead of the classic spaghetti. He orders a pizza himself, furrowing his brow as he realizes that the proper way of eating pizza here is by using a knife and fork. 
“So,” you say after a mouthful of food, taking a sip of your wine, “Texas born and raised?”
“Yeah, my folks live half an hour out of town,” Joel replies, resting his wrists on the edge of the table, “And Sarah, my daughter… We've been in that house since forever. Sarah doesn’t know much else than that street.”
“You have a daughter?” You tilt your head curiously, challenging him with a little smile.
“Oh yeah, fifteen years old. Love of my life,” he tells you, and your heart swells because you know exactly how he looks at her with wonder and love, “Does that bother you?”
“Not at all, I just don’t have any kids of my own,” you reply. 
“Is that… something you can see yourself in? Kids?” 
You figure that it’s a fair question for a date, but it’s a little overwhelming when you’re already in too deep. Months deep into this relationship actually.
“Well, yeah,” you say after a pause, somehow so certain, “Yeah… I want the whole thing; white picket fence and nauseating suburban lifestyle.” 
You can see Joel visibly relax. 
“Is it hard being a single dad?” You ask gently. 
Joel tenses up once more, resting his hand on the tabletop and tapping his fingers slightly. He avoids your gaze, “Sometimes. I mean… I’m terrified that I will end up in a situation where I can’t be what she needs. Additionally, it’s hard to imagine getting something you want for yourself when all you think of is soccer practice, boy bands, birthdays, and tampons.”
You place your hand on top of his, fingertips slowly running up and down Joel’s wrist, “That sounds hard.”
It’s nice to get to know Joel like this, and as you sip your wine, conversation flows easily between the two of you. Date-night Joel is funny and charming, exactly how you pictured him, and more. He compliments you throughout the evening, makes you laugh to the point where you can see his eyes soften and cause another compliment to spill from his mouth.
“Got any moves?” You ask before cutting into the last slice of your pizza. Joel finished his own a little while ago. 
“Moves?” He questions, absentmindedly reaching out for your hand on the table again. You place your palm in his and he rubs his thumb over your knuckles.
“Yeah, date moves? I bet you’re going to lend me your jacket later. That sorta stuff.”
“I actually was,” he chuckles with slightly red cheeks that might as well have been from the bottle of red wine that you’ve shared, then running his free hand over his hair and leaning back into his seat, “I figured since we should've had our first date in June, it was the right time to do a summer activity, so we’re getting ice cream after this. And I know it’d get you chilly.'' 
“Seriously?” 
“Seriously. And what about you?”
“I haven’t used any moves on you tonight,” you lie. 
“Liar,” he laughs, shaking his head disapprovingly, “Tell me.”
“I asked you about your daughter,” you shrug and try brushing it off.
“That’s a move?” He raises a brow. 
“Well, got me touching you, didn’t it?” You nod down at where you are holding hands, causing Joel to sit up a little straighter as he realizes. 
“I think we need to get out of here before you manipulate me further,” he jokes, letting go of your hand to raise his own to signal a waiter.
*
You get ice cream cones after dinner at a charming little parlor. Joel gets strawberry and you get hazelnut. It seems like the perfect end to your date.
The sky is speckled with stars as you walk through a dimly lit area with Joel’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders. In your hand, your ice cream cone is melting slowly, but you manage to catch each dribble with the flat of your tongue. Joel’s eyes are on you the whole time. 
“Do you have work tomorrow?” You ask casually.
“Yeah,” he replies, eating his ice cream, “Not early in the morning though. Why?”
“Just wondered if you were going to follow me home after this,” you say with another lick. You’ll invite him inside too; Joel knows this but it’s part of the fun to not say anything.
He hums, “Sure, of course. I wouldn’t want you taking the bus alone at this hour anyway.”
“Ever the gentleman.”
Joel smiles to himself. Definitely not going to be a gentleman. He then dares to reach between you to find your hand. He entwines your fingers, says nothing and you walk without conversation for a while until you fake a yawn. 
“I should get home.”
“I know the quickest way to the car.”
*
You find yourself on your front porch not long after. It seems ridiculous how many times Joel has been standing behind you like this, breathing down your neck as you unlock your front door. 
With a shy smile, you stop trying to unlock the door and let the key sit in the lock. You dare to turn around to look up at Joel’s big brown eyes that are watching you with the glazed expression he gets whenever he wants to clear his head and kiss you. 
It reminds you of your first kiss as he dips down, searching out your mouth with his own, and whilst you want to give in, you also want to make him work for it, play out the scene.
“I had a really good time tonight,” you interrupt him as he is just about to kiss you. 
“Right,” he looks like someone trying to refrain from rolling his eyes. He hesitates but then replies, “Can I see you again?”
“Yes, I’d like that a lot. Thank you for letting me fall in love with you a little more tonight.”
Something changes at that.
“And can I kiss you?” He asks a little impatiently. Something is brewing.
You animatedly tap your chin and giggle as he sighs at your silliness. It earns you a kiss, short and sweet and definitely not enough. You pull him down to your mouth again when he tries to pull away. 
There haven’t been many women before you in the years after Sarah’s mother, and it results in a starving man who cannot get enough when he knows that he has you. You like it when he snaps; as if the dam that holds back all of his pent-up need for you since seeing you in his favorite dress crumbles.
You kiss each other so hard that he suddenly loses himself and grips your shoulders roughly, shoving you into the door until the knob is pressing painfully into your lower back. Joel’s mouth is warm and inviting and tastes like strawberry ice cream as he practically eats at your mouth, swallowing down his name as it drips like honey from your lips. It makes up for how he manhandles you against the door until you can, albeit blindly, reach behind you and finally open it. 
The door gives way behind you and you both fall through, completely losing balance without trying to regain it in the slightest. There’s something exciting about the utter desperation, something charming about the giggles you let out as you hit the floor with a thump. At least the door swings shut behind you.
You shrug Joel’s jacket off your shoulders, trying to get comfortable on the floorboards. It messes up the kiss and has Joel growling, but then he takes the opportunity to bury his face in your neck and breathe in your perfume. 
You can feel his teeth graze over the skin of your throat, not quite biting down yet. He kisses open-mouthed and hot along your main artery instead, leaving a trail of shiny saliva until he is by your ear. He whispers, “You always invite guys in on the first date?”
He reaches down to tug your dress up. You help him by lifting your hips off the ground and he responds by grabbing your ass in his hands, squeezing and yanking you up against the bulge in his jeans only to grind right back down into you.
“Only contractors in their late thirties who are named Joel Miller,” you say with a chuckle interrupted by a moan as you feel the rough fabric of his jeans against your clothed cunt. 
“Guess I’m really fuckin’ lucky that I fit that description perfectly then.”
“I need you,” you add with a groan, reaching for the top button on Joel’s shirt that’s too nice for you to start ripping off. You struggle to undo the buttons though, feeling embarrassed at how much your fingers fumble out of want, “Please, Joel. Off, take this off.”
“So fuckin’ needy indeed,” he kisses you again, doesn’t even bother breaking the kiss as he reaches up, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt and then throwing it onto the floor.
You whimper against his lips, reaching down to pull at his pants. You need more, need to see him in all his glory, need to touch, suck him, feel him inside of you. Either will do. It is almost too much, “You’re so hot, fuck, help me with these.”
Joel makes quick work of pushing off his jeans and then underwear. He groans softly in relief, his cock finally free, already so hard there is a pearl of precum beading at his tip. 
“Now mine,” you pant, pushing the flats of your feet into the floor to lift yourself up again,  “Please, please, you have to fuck me.”
He runs his hands from your ankles up your calves, stopping at your thighs to give them a firm squeeze and groan with unrestrained desire. Then, unceremoniously, he simply grips the fabric of your panties in his hands and yanks them down. Having you splayed out before him, he doesn’t waste any more time. He hoists you up a bit, grabbing his dick and positioning himself, and then thrusts into you all the way in one go.
You both moan at the same time, but whereas yours is a soft sound, his is a low throaty one. You hook your legs around his waist as you wait for him to move inside of you. You find his gaze too, meeting it with pleading eyes, slack mouth, and furrowed brows, “Fuck me. Please just–”
Joel does not keep you waiting for a goddamn second. He grips you tightly under your right thigh and braces his other hand flat against the floor for support, and then in the next moment, he is pounding you ruthlessly into the floorboards. No hesitation, no build-up.  It is mercilessly perfect, the floorboards creaking slightly at you being pressed into them. If you didn’t have your legs around Joel’s waist, you are sure that the force of the way you are being fucked would create burns from the friction again the wood.
Joel buries his face in your neck next. He finally bites down like you have waited for, causing you to tilt back your head with a high-pitched moan. Your hands come up to rest on the back of his head and you slide your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly as the tension below your belly button builds. It feels like fire, like electricity.
"Pretty. You sound so fuckin’ pretty when you take my cock," he murmurs against your neck. He then straightens a bit again to let go of your thigh in favor of sliding his hand under you, pressing it against the small of your back, and holding you closer to his own body. He watches your face as your head swims with desire, “Look pretty too, oh, fuck, baby.”
Your right hand reaches down, but you don’t get a chance to touch yourself, because, with his other hand, Joel reaches down to place his thumb on your swollen clit, immediately setting a blinding pace. You see stars, ecstatic moans giving you away.
“I’m gonna—“
“And you’re gonna come on my dick now too?” He groans, already chasing his own pleasure with each thrust of his hips, “Lucky fuckin’ me.”
Fireworks erupt below your belly button as you come with a wanton shout. The pleasure is fast and intense, your muscles squeezing around Joel’s cock which suddenly spurts thick ropes of come inside of you. He feels so good as you pulse around him, cunt greedily milking everything into yourself. 
“You’ll be the death of me,” Joel says with an exhausted chuckle as he flops down beside you. The both of you try catching your breaths, but the dopamine rush won’t let either of you settle down quite yet. 
Your legs fall against each other, collapsing from exhaustion. You can feel your back start to ache already, “God.”
“Just Joel.”
You slap his arm. 
“Are you okay though?” He asks genuinely. 
“My back is going to be sore like hell from this. It already is. Other than that? I don’t think you’ve ever fucked me like that before,” you run a hand over your face, staring up at the ceiling afterwards.
“Sounds about right,” he says, pauses for a moment, then, “So when can I see you again?”
476 notes · View notes
zedecksiew · 3 months
Text
THE BLOGGIES 2023: FINALISTS
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(If you just want to skip to the list of BLOGGIE finalists, scroll to the "Who Are The BLOGGIES?" section below.)
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WHAT ARE THE BLOGGIES?
Awards for some of the best tabletop roleplaying game (TTRPG) blog posts to come out in 2022. There will be five awards: Best Theory Blogpost, Best Gameable Blogpost, Best Advice Blogpost, Best Review Blogpost, and, the biggest one, Best Blogpost.
I won Best Blogpost, last year. So I am hosting the BLOGGIES, this year.
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WHY ARE THE BLOGGIES?
Blogs are worth celebrating. Barring the actual playing of actual games, they are our most fertile field, our most volatile laboratory. Longform, text-based, and informal---they are a place to jot down our most outre design ideas. Free and publicly available---they are a vector for open debate and serendipitous discourse. Perhaps most importantly: relatively free of algorithmic social-media pressures---they are the best chance we have at a cultural memory.
I got into TTRPGs because of blogs.
The BLOGGIES are, at best, an affirmation of the above. At least, they are a way to celebrate 64 excellent blog posts from the last year, and maybe get them in front of people who did not read them the first time.
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HOW ARE THE BLOGGIES?
Nominations: I put an open call for blog-post nominations on Christmas 2023; I also canvassed the TTRPG communities I am part of. Nominated posts had to be from between 1 December 2022 to 31 December 2023.
I closed the nomination period on 1 Jan 2024 with 149 blog posts for consideration. I read / re-read them all.
I chose a slate of 64 finalists, according to the following metrics, in order:
Enthusiasm---a post got multiple nominations;
Diversity---no one blog was allowed to be a finalist more than once in a category (except the Reviews category, where this rule was tied to individual writers, due to shared review blogs);
Notability---a post was extraordinary in presenting a novel idea, addressing an important subject, or reflecting a community current.
Obviously, that last metric is highly subjective, and limited to my knowledge and perspective in the scene. I did my best.
I will not have final final say. Finalists will go head to head, vying for to be anointed best of the best by ballot. The bracket was seeded in order of number of nominations received. The BLOGGIES await your vote, o TTRPG folx.
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WHEN ARE THE BLOGGIES?
Throughout January 2024! Voting is >>>NOW OPEN<<< on Google Forms according to the following schedule (I will link to the forms and result threads as I post them):
First Week January - THEORY
3 January: Round of 16
4 January: Round of 8
5 January: Round of 4
6 January: Quarterfinals (winners in category) - Results
Second Week January - GAMEABLE
10 January: Round of 16
11 January: Round of 8
12 January: Round of 4
13 January: Quarterfinals (winners in category) - Results
Third Week January - ADVICE
17 January: Round of 16
18 January: Round of 8
19 January: Round of 4
20 January: Quarterfinals (winners in category) - Results
Fourth Week January - REVIEW
24 January: Round of 16
25 January: Round of 8
26 January: Round of 4
27 January: Quarterfinals (winners in category) - Results
31 January - FINALS
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WHO ARE THE BLOGGIES?
Your BLOGGIES 2023 FINALISTS are (presented in bracket order):
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(High-res version here)
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THEORY
🥉 (1) being a problem - playable orcs at the limits of humanity, from Majestic Fly Whisk Some deep thinking about the racialisation of the orc in elfgames, why mainstream fixes fall short, and ways to move beyond.
vs
(16) #132: Axes of Game Design, from The Indie RPG Newsletter An exploration of the design axes / spectrums on which every TTRPG may fall.
(8) The Genres the OSR Can't Do, from A Knight At The Opera Sketching the limits of the OSR playstyle by looking at genres which are too differently-bound for it to emulate.
vs
(9) RPG Transcript Analysis: Critical Role, from Trilemma Adventures Examining a style of play through transcript analysis (looking at what is actually being said during a session), with Critical Role as case study.
🥈 (5) Critical GLOG: Base Resolution Mechanics, from Goblin Punch A deep dive into dice and resolution mechanics, and what they do in practice.
vs
(12) My favorite problems, from Failure Tolerated A list of design problems in TTRPGs, and a case for game design and theory to be driven by problem-solving.
(4) Roleplay Is Folk Art, from Wizard Thief Fighter An impassioned call to consider TTRPGs as folk art as opposed to corpocratic walled-garden IPs.
vs
(13) ART, PRODUCT, BOARD GAMES AND MAUSRITTER, from Fail Forward Critique of reviews that accuse TTRPGs for being too slick; interrogating the assumptions behind the label “commercial”.
(6) Toolbox Design, from The Dododecahedron Considering the principles of designing TTRPGs like toolboxes, through the lens of Cairn RPG and similar.
vs
(11) Mario vs ActRaiser vs Final Fantasy vs Zelda - Types of Advancement in RPGs, from Rise Up Comus Identifying some general types of advancement in TTRPGs, using videogames as a comparative lens.
(3) Posters, Posers and POSR(s), from Prismatic Wasteland Relitigating whether the OSR is dead, and defining its successor, the Post-OSR.
vs
(14) psychosis is badly written in tabletop games, from paper cult “Attempting to mechanize something so intensely personal, different, and mutable as mental illness is complicated. I think that makes these depictions bad!”
(7) “Rules Elide” and Its Consequences, from Jared Considering the implications of the maxim that "a game is about X when you have rules for everything but X".
vs
(10) Models of High-Level Play, from Benign Brown Beast Loose but useful classifications for types of high-level play: domains; god-like play; etc.
🥇 (2) OSR Rules Families, from Traverse Fantasy Sketching the landscape of the OSR, how various systems function, and how their attributes cluster and trend together.
vs
(15) Moralising and manipulation in tabletop roleplaying games, from Playful Void The importance of having design preferences without tying these preferences to moral judgments.
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GAMEABLE
🥉 (1) Flux Space, from Papers & Pencils A point-crawl procedure specifically designed for labyrinths / dungeons that are architecturally confusing / samey.
vs
(16) Generating Elevation in a Hexcrawl, from Traveler's Rest Procedures and advice on how to generate a mountain-crawl: hiking-focused adventure geography.
(8) The Autumn of Summers, from False Machine God-monsters born of summer, the hunting culture around such beasts, and random tables to generate their attributes.
vs
(9) MIMICS, from Vaults Of Vaarn A spread of novel pretender-creatures, with ecological and social implications.
(5) Another take on demihumans as social constructs, from Cavegirl's Game Stuff What if we consider fantasy races not as separate species, but as differing social roles?
vs
(12) The Apocalypse Archive, from Bearded Devil An unfinished by exemplary #dungeon23 attempt that includes wonderful maps and soundtrack notes.
🥈 (4) Pointcrawling Character Creation, from Rise Up Comus A framework for tying character generation to a geography, generating history and familiarity with campaign locales.
vs
(13) how to be erased, from Straits Of Anian Procedures for getting lost and getting led astray, and the kith and spirits one meets in those places.
(6) Dungeon Skirmishing, from All Dead Generations Feature-complete skirmish combat mechanics for OD&D, and the design rationales thereof.
vs
(11) Zelda-Style NPC Personalities, from To Distant Lands A system of generating quick and punchy NPCs, inspired by the way Zelda videogames present NPCs.
(3) GULCH, from Mindstorm A starter town specifically designed for contemporary (horror, urban fantasy, non-fantasy) campaigns.
vs
(14) Down the Road: Local Situation Design, from Deeper In The Game A procedure for quickly generating a powderkeg situation in a local geography of play.
🥇 (7) Laws of the Land: meaningful terrain via in-fiction limits and conditions, from Was It Likely? A method to generate meaningful diegetic terrain and tone in an adventuring region.
vs
(10) False Equivalent Exchange, from The Graverobber's Guide A novel magic system, done in natural language, with discussion on how it could be used in play.
(2) Deeper Catacombs, from Benign Brown Beast Iteration notes and a presentation of a comprehensive dungeon tracking procedure.
vs
(15) Inadvisable Decisions (GLΔG), from The Nothic's Eye An evocative alienist character class, based on drawing the attention of alter-describable things from beyond.
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ADVICE
🥈 (1) How to Handle Parley as an OSR DM, from Goblin Punch Comprehensive notes on how to run non-combat encounters without resorting to boring rolls.
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(16) GM Pointers: Live-Text Games, from Shadow & Fae Good reminders on how to run live-text games better, so they are better coordinated and don't take forever.
(8) ONLY Roll Initiative, from Bastionland Considerations on how to adjudicate combats, if initiative were the only dice roll in a combat system.
vs
(9) Action Mysteries, from A Knight At The Opera Asserting that good TTRPGs mysteries involve action---not just figuring out the truth but opposing the antagonist's goals.
(5) Modular Ecology, from The Graverobber's Guide A practical approach to including gameable ecology in TTRPGs, by tying materials to specific locations and conditions of the world.
vs
(12) ULTIMATE ANIMIST MECHANIC: EVERYTHING IS A REACTION, from Alone In The Labyrinth How to run a game where all actions are resolved by reaction roll: everything in the world responds by how much they like you.
(4) Game Mastering Like A Park Ranger, from SILVERARM Advice about GM-ing, based on the real-world work experience of being a park ranger.
vs
(13) An OSR approach to Spotlight, from Permanent Cranial Damage The suggestion that intentionally spotlighting characters solves the real-life problem of spotlighting players nicely.
(6) #Dungeon23, from Win Conditions The idea that spawned a thousand notebook dungeons, plus salient advice on how to start / keep going.
vs
(11) The Storyteller Technique, from Possum Creek Games When writing TTRPGs, imagine your game text as a diegetic artefact in the world of the game.
🥉 (3) RANSACKING THE ROOM, from Mindstorm A simple and powerful three-step method to handle room-searching in games: inspect, search, and ransack.
vs
(14) Cairn Crash Course, from Widdershins Wanderings A masterclass example on how to write player guides to a game, for Cairn RPG.
(7) AN EXAMPLE OF FKR (NEAR-)DICELESS COMBAT (WITH COSMIC ORRERY!), from Underground Adventures Describing combat in a Free Kriegsspiel Roleplaying (FKR) game, useful in understanding that playstyle.
vs
🥇 (10) Re-inventing the Wilderness: Part 1 - Introduction, from sachagoat Figuring out problems with wilderness exploration, and applying a mental-map framework from urban-theory academia.
(2) Dungeon Design, Process and Keys, from All Dead Generations A detailed process to designing and keying a traditional dungeon adventure.
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(15) THE D&D IN MY HEAD: In Only 6 Load-Bearing Numbers, from I Cast Light! Identifying the essential and minimum rules you need to remember, to run D&D.
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REVIEW
🥇 (1) An Empty Africa - PF2E's The Mwangi Expanse and the strange career of Black Atlanticism, from Majestic Fly Whisk A review of Pathfinder’s "The Mwangi Expanse", and a discussion of Black Atlanticism's fraught relationship with its sourcelands.
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(16) What Hull Breach Teaches Us, from Mazirian's Garden An assessment of the Mothership RPG third-party "Hull Breach" anthology as a "new standard for anthology companions".
(8) Grave Trespass - Jim Henson's Labyrinth: The Adventure Game, from Bones Of Contention A review of the Labyrinth RPG. It’s got all these things which are "bad" in RPGs, so why does it work?
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(9) The First Rumor Tables, Part 2: Caverns of Thracia or Caverns of Quasqueton?, from Tom Van Winkle's Return To Gaming An investigation into the origins of rumour tables in TTRPGs. Did TSR plagiarise Jaquays?
(5) Standing up for D&D's Gen X: 2e (Part 1), from Mythlands Of Erce A full-throated defense of D&D2E, viewing it in the context of its time and as a refinement over 1E.
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(12) Systemcrawl: Break!! RPG, from Widdershins Wanderings A review and system analysis of Break!! RPG, which marries JRPG and OSR inspirations.
(4) Dungeon Crawls in Cinema, from Directsun Games Evaluating several films on the basis of how well they function as dungeon crawls.
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(13) Reasonable Reviews, from Rise Up Comus A general overview of TTRPG reviews, and what may or may not make them useful.
(6) Deep Dive: A|STATE, from The Indie Game Reading Club A review of a|state, and how it builds on and departs from the Blades In The Dark formula.
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(11) I Read Cloud Empress, from Playful Void A review of Cloud Empress, the first descendant of the Mothership RPG ruleset.
🥈 (3) Plagiarism in Unconquered (2022), from Traverse Fantasy A forensic analysis of how Unconquered plagiarised Ultraviolet Grasslands and Vaults Of Vaarn.
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(14) Rod, Reel, & Fist (Review), from Benign Brown Beast A substantial review of Rod, Reel, & Fist, a "system-forward fishing simulation RPG".
(7) Pedantic Wasteland - Vampire Cruise, from Bones Of Contention A review of Vampire Cruise, a largely system-neutral horror-comedy adventure set at sea.
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(10) Dragon Magazine: Player Advice Collection Overview, from Attronarch Athenaeum A comprehensive read-through and rating of 143 Dragon Magazine advice articles.
(2) Spire: The Monstrosity of Empire, the Necessity of Violence, from A A Voigt A comparative-literature analysis of Spire RPG through R F Kuang’s spec-fic novel "Babel, or the Necessity of Violence".
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🥉 (15) MICROBLOG: CHILDREN'S BOOKS AND TABLETOP GAMES, from Fail Forward Considering the influence of children’s books on TTRPG designers and works like "Barkeep on the Borderlands".
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It is difficult to describe how hard it was for me to whittle down the list of nominees to these finalists. I consider each of these 64 a landmark in 2023's TTRPG thinkings, and the folks from which they issue essential reading, going forward. They already deserve a prize.
So here it is, dear bloggers: a hand-carved linocut "finalist's pin" graphic you are free to use on your sites / posts, should you wish:
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(High-res downloadable version HERE)
Thank you for writing! And good luck in the coming rounds of voting!
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CORRECTION: A blog post from 2021 (Not All Crunch Is the Same, from A Knight At The Opera), was included in the soft-launch posting of this list. An error on the part of its nominator, compounded by a data-entry error on my part. It has since been replaced by a post from the same blog with the actual most nominations (The Genres the OSR Can't Do). I have also double-checked my lists and all finalists. Apologies for my error!
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bantarleton · 6 months
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Who Wants a Non-Hessian German Troops of the American Revolution Uniform Identification Flow Chart?
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Now you too can roleplay as a harried British staff officer trying to identify which troops are encamped where, or a devious rebel spy collecting intelligence.
As folks may or may not know, only roughly 50% of the German state troops who served the British Crown during the American Revolution were “Hessians” from Hesse-Cassel. There were six other states that provided “subsidy troops.” Here’s how to tell them apart at a glance.
Are their uniforms predominantly dark blue? If yes, go to the paragraph numbered 4. If no, go to the para numbered 2.
2. Are their uniforms predominantly white? If no, go to the para numbered 3. If yes, those are troops from Anhalt-Zerbst. The only German state involved in the war to take its uniform and organisational cues from Austria rather than Prussia, the single Anhalt-Zerbst line regiment deployed to America wore white regimental coats faced with red. Their grenadiers wore bearskins rather than metal-faced caps (the only other German state to do this was Waldeck). One battalion also, according to one shocked British officer, had one of the most outrageous-looking uniforms of the war, including hussar hats, red and yellow waist sashes and red cloaks - these may have been “pandour” irregulars from the edges of the Austrian empire.
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3. The coats are neither white nor blue, so they must be red. In this case, the troops are Hanoverian. While still mostly following Prussian style, because they shared a ruler with Britain, Hanoverian troops wore red. Five Hanoverian regiments assisted Britain with vital Mediterranean defence during the American Revolution, before going on to fight in India. They were the only redcoat Germans fighting for the Crown outside the British Army.
4. Your Germans are wearing blue coats. Are the buttons on the coat lapels arranged 1-2-1, and do the cuffs have a “Swedish” style slit to them? If no, go to the para numbered 5. If yes, they’re from Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel. Brunswick provided the most soldiers after Hesse-Cassel, and arguably the most rounded force, with four line regiments, one dragoon regiment, one grenadier battalion and one light infantry battalion. But whether jäger, musketeers or grenadiers, they almost all had coat buttons in groups of 1-2-1 and the slit-style cuffs. Fun fact; the Brunswick crest of a racing white horse on a red field was the same as neighbouring Hanover’s.
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5. Your Germans are wearing blue, but don’t have buttons in 1-2-1 and Swedish cuffs. Do they have yellow facings, and cuffs with buttons placed both horizontally and vertically? If no, go to the para numbered 6. If yes, they are from Waldeck. This German state usually provided troops for the Dutch, but raised a new unit, the 3rd English-Waldeck Regiment, for service in America. They mostly fought against the Spanish in the Deep South, where they were decimated by disease. If the unusual position of the buttons on the cuff isn’t enough, look for the belt plate bearing “FF” for “Fuerst Friedrich,” the state’s ruler.
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6. Do your blue Germans have red facings, cocked hats and unusual lace on their coats, shaped like a figure-of-eight? If no, go to the para numbered 7. If yes, they’re from Hesse-Hanau. This state was closely related (in the sense of its ruler, literally) to Hesse-Cassel, yet remained independent. While it provided a small amount of artillery, jägers and freikorps light infantry, its main contribution was a single line regiment, Erbprinz. Their distinctive features were scalloped lace on their cocked hats and the figure-of-eight “Brandenburg” style lace. There was also a Hesse-Cassel Regiment Erbprinz (even sharing the same colonel-in-chief), but they were fusiliers with caps rather than the Hesse-Hanau musketeers with their cocked hats. Check the mistake made by this artwork - these are Hesse-Hanau soldiers from the Infanterie Regiment Erbprinz, but they’re wearing Cassel fusilier caps. Bonus fact; Hanau and Cassel’s crest both features a rampant lion with red and white stripes, but there are subtle differences - they face opposite directions, the style of stripes are slightly different, and the Hanau lion lacks the Cassel one’s crown, but does wield a sword.
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7. Do your blue-coated Germans have a black eagle on their flags and grenadier cap plates? If no, they’re probably from Hesse-Cassel. If yes, they’re from Ansbach-Bayreuth. This German state consisted of two provinces, Ansbach and Bayreuth (funny that). Besides jägers and some battalion guns, their main contribution was two infantry regiments, one from each of the two provinces. Their ruler’s crest was a black eagle, similar to the Prussian one.
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Of course these posts don’t account for the uniforms of the jäger corps, or musicians, or any artillery, but it can serve as a rough guide. For the proper detail, you’ll have to buy my forthcoming book on the topic!
Also would be pretty cool if someone made an actual flow chart out of this, just saying!
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frameacloud · 6 months
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A list of some alterhuman identities and groups (cut version)
About this article
This article is a five-minute read. It gives definitions and sources about (in alphabetical order) alterhumans, constelics, daemons, dragons, endels, furries, fictionfolk, nonhumans, otherkin, plural systems, therianthropes, tulpas, and vampires. These alterhuman community historians, archivists, and writers wrote this article together in August and September 2023: Orion Scribner, House of Chimeras, Page Shepard, Dinocanid, Ryuu Yumemoto, Draconic Wizard Workshop, and others. You have permission to repost this article, if you keep the list of authors, don't change what the article says, and don't use it for money. This is shared under this type of Creative Commons license: Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs (CC BY-NC-ND).
Alterhumans
In 2014, Lio of the Crossroads System created this word as an umbrella term and identity for anyone who feels they have an identity beyond the scope of how one might typically think of “being human.”^1 Later, the alterhuman advocacy group Alt+H popularized this word. According to the coiner and Alt+H, it includes but is not limited to nonhumans.^2 Some groups who can opt-in to considering themselves under the alterhuman umbrella are otherkin, therianthropes, fictionfolk, plural systems, daemians, vampires, voluntary identities, furries, and more.^3 This umbrella is very broad because its purpose is to give these communities something to unite under without erasing their distinctions.^4
Constelic
Coined by Extranth in 2021, a person who is constelic identifies with or as one or more entities, objects, concepts, species, items, or characters throughout their life.^5 A constelic may collect or hoard any number of these identities for any number of reasons, as their identities are non-inherent and are considered to be entirely extrinsic.^6 Constels may be voluntary or involuntary identities,^7 and can be intense or casual, but they are often non-permanent.^8 
Daemians and daemons
Daemians are people who have daemons, which are most often described as mental constructs or a part of an individual’s consciousness which has been assigned a unique gender, form, and personality.^9 Some daemians consider themselves plural.^10 Their community started in 2002, inspired by Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials fantasy novel trilogy.^11
Dragons
The dragon community started in the 1990s in an online group called alt.fan.dragons.^12 They identify as dragons for spiritual or psychological reasons. They are draconic, and they refer to this part of themselves as their draconity.^13 In the 2000s, the dragon community started to mingle with the other communities: with dragon otherkin (dragonkin)^14 and dragon therians.^15
Endels
Mental health experts say that being alterhuman isn’t the same as being mentally ill.^16 For alterhumans who do have mental illnesses, that can be an important part of their everyday life and their sense of self. Endel is a word for alterhuman identities that are rooted in or greatly influenced by delusion. Babydog coined this word in 2021, by and for delusional alterhumans.^17
Furries
The furry fandom is a large subculture that began at sci-fi conventions in the 1980s.^18 It’s for creating and enjoying art, stories, costumes, and roleplay about fictional human-like (anthropomorphic) animal characters, called furries. Many fandom participants choose to represent themselves as their furry persona (fursona), which can be just for fun, though it can be meaningful about who they are.
Fictionfolk
Fictionfolk is an umbrella term for many sorts of identities that come partly or wholly from fiction.^19 Fictionkin identify as characters or species from fiction,^20 and their community started in the early 2000s.^21 A plural system member with origins from fiction is a fictive, which psychologists call a fictional introject.^22 When someone has the brief experience of becoming someone or something from fiction, that’s a fictionflicker, which psychologists call experience-taking.^23 
Nonhumans
An umbrella term for those of us who identify as partly or wholly not human: therianthropes, otherkin, and more. Many nonhumans opt to include themselves under the alterhuman umbrella.
Otherkin
Otherkin are elves, dragons, or other beings, usually from mythology. It’s always an important part of who they are throughout their lives, not role-play for fun.^24 The community started in the Elfinkind Digest mailing list in 1990, when they started calling themselves otherkind or otherkin.^25 Their reasons for being otherkin are often spiritual, for example, from reincarnation.^26 However, otherkin is not a religion.^27
Plural systems
Plurality (or multiplicity) is an umbrella term for all experiences and identities in which more than one entity, consciousness, or pseudo-consciousness exists within one physical body,^28 for systems who are or can be diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder (DID), formerly called multiple personality disorder (MPD), as well as systems who do not meet those diagnostic criteria. Plurality and multiplicity as terms have always been inclusive of systems regardless of their origin or diagnoses.^29 Some plural systems have members who aren’t human or who are fictional characters or species.^30 Multiplicity can be an interchangeable synonym for plurality, or multiplicity can mean a form of plurality in which more than one person, self, or identity is within a single body.^31
Therianthropes
Therianthropes are people who have a lifelong identification as a certain species of animal on an integral, personal level.^32 Some are other species than animals from Earth.^33 The therian community started in 1993 in an online group, alt.horror.werewolves.^34 They developed jargon about shapeshifting to describe feeling more animal-like at some times. These changes are mental or spiritual, not physical.^35 Some have sensations of phantom limbs.^36 Some feel consistently animal-like at all times.^37 In the late 1990s and early 2000s, therians started mingling with the otherkin community.^38
Tulpas and tulpamancers
A tulpamancer is someone who practices tulpamancy, which is the act of creating tulpas.^39 A tulpa is an autonomous conscious entity who shares the body and brain of their creator.^40 Tulpamancy is often considered to be a part of the plurality umbrella.^41 
Vampire Community
The vampyre or vampire community (VC) is for people who identify as vampires and require sustenance.^42 Those who drain energy are energy vampires or psi-vampires.^43 Sanguinarians drink blood.^44 Hybrid vampires need both.^45 Vampire lifestylers and donors are in the VC, too.^46 
None of the above
Some participants of our communities are not themselves alterhumans. However, they’re here because they’re curious, or they’re our friends, family, and partners.
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Endnotes
Please click to open this so you can read all of the sources that we cited. They are all here below.
1. Lio of the Crossroads System (September 26 2014). "This will probably be my last post on semantics..." Phasmovore. https://phasmovore.tumblr.com/post/98482696958/
2. Lio of the Crossroads System (May 27, 2023). https://x-rds.tumblr.com/post/712949341799727104/ Alt+H (September 17 2021) “What does alterhuman mean?” Alt+H. https://blog.alt-h.net/post/165592493965/what-does-alterhuman-mean
3. Kiera Ember. “Alterhuman Dictionary.” Beyond Humanity. https://www.beyondhumanity.net/alterhuman-dictionary/dictionary-a Ana Valens (September 25 2020). “Otherkin are the internet’s punchline. They’re also our future.” Daily Dot. https://www.dailydot.com/irl/otherkin/  Alt+H, “FAQ” https://alt-h.net/educate/faq.php
4. Lio of the Crossroads System (February 19, 2023). https://x-rds.tumblr.com/post/709694807213211648/
5. Extranth. “An Introduction to Constelic” https://web.archive.org/web/20230519124625/https://constelic.carrd.co/
6. Extranth (May 19, 2021). “Constelic!” https://extranth.tumblr.com/post/651652168396472320/constelic-1-whats-constelic-constelic-or
7. Constelic (May 27, 2022). “How are Constelic and Otherlink different?” https://constelic.tumblr.com/post/685380822139813888/how-are-constelic-and-otherlink-different
8. Constelic (April 12, 2022). “The wild thing with stels for me is how sometimes…” https://constelic.tumblr.com/post/681308197084135424/the-wild-thing-with-stels-for-me-is-how-sometimes
9. The Daemon Page, “Introduction” https://daemonpage.com/introduction.php
10. Daemians & Daemons (March 18 2023). “Hey there! This is a bit of a discussion question…” https://www.tumblr.com/daemians-n-daemons/712142103972560896/hey-there-this-is-a-bit-of-a-discussion-question Rani (June 21 2022). “Okay so I was right dæmonism is turning into my…” A Dragon’s Journal. https://a-dragons-journal.tumblr.com/post/687725978250870784/okay-so-i-was-right-d%C3%A6monism-is-turning-into-my
11. House of Chimeras (October 8 2022). “A Timeline of the Daemon Community” pg. 3 https://drive.google.com/file/d/1GVSBMvwKIyTvDIqyqXy2C_7Q4Qx4UK3A/view 
12. ExistingPhantom (October 3 2001). “Alt.Fan.Dragons Frequently Asked Questions.” Dragons Must Be Here. https://web.archive.org/web/20050219002348/http://www.dmbh.org/dragonfire/IndexFAQ.html 
13. Baxil (December 1999). “Draconity FAQ.” Tomorrowlands. http://www.tomorrowlands.org/draconity/faq/index.html  Orion Scribner (September 8, 2012), Otherkin Timeline, version 2.0 http://frameacloud.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/Scribner_Timeline2p0.pdf p. 36
14. Orion Scribner, Otherkin Timeline, p. 53.
15. Daski (August 17, 2022). “Therian: Dispelling the Earthen Animal Myth.” The River System. https://theriversystem.neocities.org/essays/EarthenMyth.html  
16. Gavia Baker-Whitelaw (February 22, 2015). “Understanding the otherkin.” The Kernel. Archived March 18, 2015. https://web.archive.org/web/20150318110839/http://kernelmag.dailydot.com/issue-sections/features-issue-sections/11866/otherkin-tumblr-definition-pronouns/ 
17. Babydog, “Endel” https://endel.carrd.co/ 
18. Fred Patten (July 15 2012). "Retrospective: An Illustrated Chronology of Furry Fandom, 1966–1996". Flayrah. https://www.flayrah.com/4117/retrospective-illustrated-chronology-furry-fandom-1966%E2%80%931996 
19. Poppy (January 24, 2023). “Quick guide to fictionfolk terminology.” Aestherians. https://aestherians.tumblr.com/post/707370073217695744/ 
20. Mordax. “What is Fictionkin? An exploratory definition”. From Fiction. https://web.archive.org/web/20220728060858/https://fromfiction.net/index.php/what-is-fictionkin-an-exploratory-definition/ 
21. House of Chimeras (June 21, 2021). A Timeline of the Fictionkin Community, Version 1.0. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1w4vGsWkiGPjYtXvTe4PyCcZsPba1kb_p/view?usp=sharing Page 4.
22. Ryn (Aristocrats) (October 18, 2021). “Fictives: A short introduction” https://pluralsoapbox.wordpress.com/2021/10/18/fictives-a-short-introduction/  Sark (The Interstellar System) (August 9, 2021). “Fictive and Factive FAQ”  https://interstellarsystem.weebly.com/fictive-and-factive-faq.html 
23. Geoff F. Kaufman, Lisa K. Libby (2012). “Changing Beliefs and Behavior Through Experience-Taking.” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 2012; DOI: 10.1037/a0027525 https://psycnet.apa.org/doiLanding?doi=10.1037%2Fa0027525
24. Lupa (2007), A Field Guide to Otherkin, Stafford, England: Immanion Press, pp. 27, 108-109.
25. Arethinn (September 6, 2021). “A brief(ish) history of the word ‘otherkind’.” Mythsong. https://www.mythsong.net/history/wordhist.html 
26. Lupa, pp. 57-66, 287.
27. Lupa, p. 30; and Devin Proctor (May 2019), On Being Non-Human: Otherkin Identification and Virtual Space. The George Washington University. https://search.proquest.com/openview/e156c24bf65c4efb0918a8db37433cce/ pp. 94-95.
28. FreyasSpirit (Lucia Batman) and Irenes (Irene Knapp), “Plurality Playbook” https://freyasspirit.com/plurality-playbook/ 
29. LB Lee (May 28, 2020). “Quick'n'Dirty Plural History... Part 1 (1811-1980ish)” https://lb-lee.dreamwidth.org/1111069.html  LB Lee (June 30, 2020).”Plural History part 2: The Memory Wars” https://lb-lee.dreamwidth.org/1116190.html  LB Lee (July 30, 2020). “Plural History, part 3: Usenet and its spin-offs and Soulbonders” https://lb-lee.dreamwidth.org/1120824.html  LB Lee (August 31, 2020). “Quick'n'Dirty Plural History, part 4 (LJ, the Genic Slapfight, and THE END!)” https://lb-lee.dreamwidth.org/1129216.html 
30. House of Chimeras (May 1, 2021). “A Collection of Mentions of Nonhuman and Fictional-Based Members of Plural Systems” https://drive.google.com/file/d/17TKE_8Lx2ljuTpHNclvaXqvA5AAlkG90/view 
31. Manchester Metropolitan University, “Understanding Multiplicity” https://www.mmu.ac.uk/mmud8/media/10605/download 
32. Sonne (2008). “Terms and definitions.” Project Shift. https://projectshift.therianthropy.info/terms-definitions-by-sonne/ 
33. Daski (August 17, 2022). “Therian: Dispelling the Earthen Animal Myth.” The River System. https://theriversystem.neocities.org/essays/EarthenMyth.html  
34. House of Chimeras (19 November 2021). A Timeline of the Therianthrope Community, Version 1.1. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jDmjl78hQ2BiQtzQMTV3yRQkrIgB9eUZ/view?usp=sharing P 9.
35. Clegg, H., Collings, R., & Roxburgh, E. C. (2019). “Therianthropy: Wellbeing, Schizotypy, and Autism in Individuals Who Self-Identify as Non-Human.” Society & Animals, 27(4), pp. 403-426. doi: https://doi.org/10.1163/15685306-12341540
36. Jakkal (October 6, 2001). “Therianthropy- an overview." Shifters.org. Archived 2002-11-10. https://web.archive.org/web/20021101165313/http://www.shifters.org/overview/therianthropy.asp
37. Akhila (April 2005). “The Contherian FAQ.” https://akhila.feralscribes.org/2005/the-contherian-faq/ 
38. House of Chimeras (November 19, 2021). A Timeline of the Therianthrope Community, Version 1.1. https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jDmjl78hQ2BiQtzQMTV3yRQkrIgB9eUZ/view?usp=sharing Pp. 27, 56.
39. Tulpa.io, “Terminologies” https://web.archive.org/web/20160405214050/http://tulpa.io/terminologies 
40. Luigi.exe/The Dragonheart Collective (January 12, 2020). “Tulpamancy FAQ” https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-Yb6dfm4JxR5u_oNpHrttJyJHc0NvMhkKUP4Btc4jPc/edit#heading=h.h3onkkn
41. Tulpa.io, “What Is A Tulpa?” https://web.archive.org/web/20160318054103/http://tulpa.io/what-is-a-tulpa 
42. Jayden Night, “What is Vampirism?” https://web.archive.org/web/20080511200648/http://sphynxcatvp.nocturna.org/articles/jn-vamprism.html 
43. Fvorboda, “Psy Vampirism” https://web.archive.org/web/20080513030621/http://sphynxcatvp.nocturna.org/articles/dyscracia-psivamps.html 
44. #Sanguinarius IRC (May 26, 2007). “A Discussion of Sang and Psi Vampires” https://web.archive.org/web/20080108215555/http://www.sanguinarius.org/articles/sang-and-psi-disc.shtml 
45. Enygma, “Real Vampires” https://web.archive.org/web/20080511201408/http://sphynxcatvp.nocturna.org/faq/most-enygma.html 
46. Sanguinarius: The Vampire Support Page, (July 4, 2006). “Sainguinarus Terminology & Lingo” https://web.archive.org/web/20080521005735/http://www.sanguinarius.org/terminology.shtml
335 notes · View notes