#fandom buzzkills as I call them

[murdertrashbabyrat]

DO NOT CLOG A SHIP TAG WITH SHIP HATE

I know this has happened before and will happen again but I am once again endlessly fascinated that people are getting on tumblr dot com and announcing that they don’t “see a certain ship” like they “don’t see it as romantic” and then further insinuate clearly we are reaching and only they have the correct view of romance and queer relationships or something like WHO CARES?! Literally you are on THE shipping site on THE FANDOM SITE what a wild opinion to decide to post here especially under the ship tag.

It’s like yeah okay and? I don’t think most creators intend the fandom to do what it does with their characters. It very much feels like both a stifling of creativity and imagination, no what ifs allowed without credible proof sort of thing, and also talking down to the people who do see themselves and their loved ones in these characters and relationships.

And yes this is inspired most recently by Deadpool and Wolverine but it applies to too many other ships and yes it has for awhile but for some reason there’s a group of people who have been getting SO uppity about Poolverine and acting like Tumblr fandom is weird for seeing queer coding and running wild with it. Like this is literally one of the first times I’ve been absolutely incredulous to see people actually getting worked up about how much romantic tension was actually between two characters AS IF THAT IS OBJECTIVE AND SOMETHING YOU CAN MEASURE while simultaneously still actually being pro gay and pro shipping. Like more often than not loud ship deniers are homophobic.

No idgaf if you like it or see it even, like literally all fan opinions can exist. What I don’t get is why that’s really even a valid criticism to make against an entire fandom of shippers and something that is worth contributing to the community. Like. Listen to yourself.

“I don’t see the romantic tension, I don’t see the ship potential, therefore it’s a bad ship or could never happen and/or y’all are seeing things that aren’t there” like have you considered that’s a shitty thing to say in a space where we are all already playing with dolls we didn’t make? Posting in the tags dedicated to people who DO see and like that ship?

Respect the artists and writers and the fans in general who love and contribute to being a part of fandom by not being dismissive towards the parts you don’t personally get. (At the very least it’s literally common courtesy to not clog a ship tag with ship hate like where did fandom etiquette go)

Also cannot express enough this is not directed at people who respect the ship but choose a platonic translation of the relationship in the piece of media. I love platonic translations as much as the next what I can’t stand is someone entirely dismissing a romance they simply don’t happen to see.

[god-forsaken-sp-confession-blog]

i hate femme kyle so fucking much. dare i say it is the worst characterization/headcanon in the entire fandom. you can call me all the isms and phobics you want and tell me im being a buzzkill and policing your fun but i do not care and you will never change my mind. antisemitic undertones aside, do these people watch the show? do you not remember the entire episode about kyle being the only one out of all the boys in the class who didn’t want to participate in the metrosexual trend and he literally got beat up for it? kyle “i love being a dirty filthy little boy” broflovski? headcanons can be fun and cool but there’s a big difference between a headcanon and stripping a character of all their canonical traits to the point of being unrecognizable. just make a goddamn oc, cus if you have to headcanon a character to be pretty much the entire opposite of what they are in canon, you don’t actually like that character. you can make a case for every other main boy being femme except for kyle so why is it always him. kenny-easy, princess kenny. and he slayed in that fuzzy pink parka in south park is gay. stan-multiple episodes about him having complicated feelings about sexuality/gender. butters-he has all these play pretend personas, one of them being a girl. also he dances to lorde in a tutu in that one ep, so cute! cartman-i don’t even need to explain this one, we already know. kyle is the only one with zero canonical basis for being even slightly feminine. oh because he doesn’t like pee? because he’s more nurturing than the others? because he likes tiktok? you sound insane and also really sexist! there is nothing wrong at all with being feminine, obviously. it’s just really fucking weird when you insist upon it for a character that it doesn’t fit while ignoring the fact that it does fit other characters. like i can clearly tell you are just playing into a fetish with antisemitic influence and hiding behind “b-b-but it’s just my opinion🥺 ur a misogynist!” as a shield and it’s gross tbh.

every time you draw fanart of twinky kyle in a cheerleading skirt with muscle stan in football gear, god kills a kitten. save the kittens and put kenny in the skirt instead.

.

[mcytblr-archive]

Early MCYTblr Interviews: georgesoot

today's interviewee is georgesoot/dreamwasfound, who, in his words, "emerged from the senior living center to tell all". under the readmore is a transcript if the questions and answers.

Q: What was, in broad terms, your experience in MCYTblr? Are there any experiences/events that stand out to you?

A: Well it was primarily an outlet to channel all my obnoxious thoughts about Minecraft at the time. I had started watching Minecraft videos during the Pandemic, and came across [they who shall not be mentioned] and noticed there wasn't really a community on Tumblr yet. I just knew that someone had to show up and make it gay. It was easy to slot myself in, start making posts that I will never understand how I thought they would be funny, and slowly built up some sort of a following due to my sense of humor but also due to my ability to soberly ~critique~ the Minecraft Men as content creators, micro-celebrities, and as people. I never really fell into niches or was much aware of what other people were doing, until I was kind of folded into this idea of Dream Lying. I don't mean to sound self obsessed but I didn't really care about anything beyond my immediate sphere of friends?

For instance, you mention with other interviewees the Elections. I did not pay attention to those for a single second. I do remember we were saying "stop the count!" because we thought Georgeeehd should have won. And I dubbed Wormweeb the Prime Minister of Mcytblr, but I don't even remember who was running? Or why this even happened?

But as for other events, if they were funny or I could wring something out of them, I do remember them. For example, the mass migration of Kpoppies to Tumblr after it was suddenly "legal" to ship content creators. That compltely shifted the "culture" if it can be called that. I remember all the fake stan accounts, but I never attempted to interact with them. Obviously I remember the Tapeworm post, all the Discourse, the Controversies, how I was able to get hundreds of notes by summarizing events of the DreamSMP, my great shame in life.

But yes, most of the time, I was not there to take things too seriously.

Q: More specifically, what was your experience being in Dream Lying/early critblr? Do you think your experience differed from “main” MCYTblr?

A: As for my experience in what has been dubbed Critblr, well I've been credited with helping to start that whole movement. I think it's funny, because truly the kind of reaction to [censored]'s warcry scandal just wouldn't play out today the way it did back then. But I think it's a function of being an adult, that I could look at [censored] not as an idol, like at all whatsoever. It's easy to swept up in the emotions of things. But as a veteran of Discourseblr, and multiple fandoms, I could see through [censored]'s lack of media training and awareness of the average center left teenage perspective on these issues like it was wet tissue paper. People were mad at for that, but I didn't care what people thought of me.

Maybe by coincidence the other members of Dream Lying also had similar worldviews to mine. Everyone could look past the stanning of it all and recognize when something "canceallable" occurred and discuss it frankly and succinctly. Well I couldn't discuss it succinctly but others could. So to answer your question, yes it was a different experience from the rest of the "community." And it got to the point that it wasn't just "holding creators to account" it became fun. It was fun being the buzzkill in an ironic sense, and also fun in an unhinged way to just create these ludicrous scenarios of [censored] the Young Republican cornering you in the hallway and asking you so how does gay sex work actually though? And again, shipping was a component of this too.

And we turned out to be right. At the risk of sounding arrogant, this will become a theme.

Q: In previous interviews with DLying members, we’ve discussed that misinformation/in-jokes were a big part of the culture, one of them being that Dream sued you for libel. Do you remember any others? Did you expect so many people to believe you?

A: As I mentioned, I didn't take things too seriously. I enjoyed doing a little light trolling, such as when I infiltrated a [censored] stan tumblr server and showed everyone his dogs, and then reveled in the drama of them acting like I killed their families. People also turned on me because I abandoned The Ship for a ship that comprises of two… perpetrators of sexual misconduct as of March 2024, though that would also be true of the Popular Ship as well.

Anyway my personal computer died sometime in early 2021, so I, as is per the usual for my personality, made it into a joke because it really was quite stressful. I mentioned to Reese Georgeeehd and Ozzie ohge0rge (sp?) that [censored] must've sent a virus to kill my harddrive. This evolved into [censored]'s legal team sending me a cease and desist letter, as I'm sure I was being extra ~critical~ on Tumblr at the time.

They asked if they could make that The Official Narrative. I cautioned against it, it leaked anyway, because their "Private Twitters" had hundreds of followers, and this enabled this joke to become a full fledged rumor. And then my "ops" as the kids call them, got wind of this too. Most didn't believe it, but some had this "If it did happen GOOD!" attitude.

But some other examples… let me think. We did try to heavily imply that Ranboo was a former member of our organization. We rarely outright lied about the creators, but we did usually distort or exaggerate things when it came to us, for comedic effect. Frequently someone will say to me "Oh so and so mentioned you again," and my go-to answer is always "Tell them I got hit by a bus," or "Tell them I'm withering away from my dementia in the nursing home."

I did not expect people to believe me, because I did not spread the rumor because I had completely disappeared from the "public" by that point. I purposefully devised a very unrealistic joke in the first place, so I really don't know who would believe that. Especially since I was known to be friends and enemies with doxxers, who could find that information out if it existed.

Like the thought of [censored] being so hurt by a single anonymous loser calling him a Trump supporter and a bad voice actor and someone who was going to hold his British friend captive in his basement and force him to go on a keto diet to the point that he starves to death, or that he had offshore bank accounts to evade Taxes, or that he paid his brother to be his body double (this turned out to be true), that he was pretending to be bisexual for clout, that he had 100% cheated on his speedrun (also turned out to be true), that he had enslaved his mother as his maid, that he and his other friend from Texas would engage in a little frottage as bros do… well the list is endless. But the thought of him being so offended that he gets his lawyer, whom he pays, to send me a cease and desist letter… well it's one of the few things I came up with that was actually funny.

Uh but no, anyone with a healthy attachment to reality would never believe that.

Q: I understand that you were also in EBblr and its surrounding communities. What was that like? 

A: I was never in ebblr… all I did was watch a few Tubbo streams, realize that he was probably gay, and I was right. Because what do you expect at this point?

I pointed out publicly that Tubbo and Ranboo were engaging in some light queerbait, except that they were obviously both queer. The point was I thought they (or at least Tubbo) were trying to engineer a New [censored], because that gets you attention which gets you money… like Kaceytron was right about everything? In these spaces, being Queer is a commodity. But I'm letting the point get away from me.

In private, I mostly reacted with bemusement, and we did have some genuine enderbabies, as I called them (mostly derisively), in our server, who took it all so literally and that it was so kawaii desu. I thought it was cringe. Like, Tubbo pretending to be coy and saying Ranboo's foot was bigger than his forearm. That took me RIGHT back to my days as a cringy 19yo baby gay trying to flirt. Oh I'm getting embarrassed thinking about it. But there were a few moments that Tubbo and Ranboo manufactured together that I thought were pretty cute and wholesome.

On the whole, I'm still confused as to why I'm included in this sub-community. I approached Enderbees as a marketing thing, or something of the sort. I never read fics, I never looked at art, I never really cared. I especially didn't care about their "characters" on the SMP, which also set me apart from the genuine unironic shippers. Some thought this was worse than shipping because I was committing that dreaded cardinal sin: speculating on CC's sexualities.

And yes, I popularized the word Truthing in this context. I explicitly modeled it after 9/11 Truthers, because the JOKE (hi remember none of this was meant to be too serious) was that we were deranged conspiracists who were probably best kept away from normal society.

Q: Is it odd to be regarded as infamous within the MCYTblr niche? 

A: No it's not odd, I at least partially strove for infamy. Any attention gratifies the ego after all, not just postitive attention. Then there was the absurdity of it all. Here I was, in the Pandemic, having multiple degrees, looking for jobs, getting a job, going to work, paying taxes, and theater kids in high school were probably drawing devil horns on my pfp and throwing knives at it. All because I said everything I said about [censored], or "speculated" that Technoblade was gay because he had drama kid energy, or called Tommy annoying that one time in 2020, or babied [censored] too much. There's really no end to the list of nonsense I was spewing.

And I'd argue that I'm not infamous. Gayminecraftmen had to tell me about your blog and your interviews. I'm doing this because my friends think it would be funny. And the Drama of Georgesoot emerging from the senior living center to tell all is the kind of stupid humor I like. But aside from this, I haven't thought about Minecraft in a while. I have to be spoonfed lore about these annoying content creators who don't even make content anymore. Anything I learn about the "community" now is against my will.

At the time, maybe I was infamous, but now? I don't care. To even dignify my "infamy" would be to admit that Minecraft Youtube is even relevant anymore. How pathetic! I just filed my taxes and got an oil change last week. Me and the homies are having Dune watch parties and writing elaborate screenplays for Timothee Chalamet to star in in our heads (shout out to Ciara). To reminisce on my Tumblr infamy for a community of mostly teenagers about Content Creators who made content for said teenagers and later preyed on those teenagers… is so opposite from the adult problems and adult interest I have. Not to be condescending but that's just how it is!

Q: What are some common creator criticisms that you remember from 2020-2021? Do you still stand by them?

A: The common criticisms have held up in my opinion. [censored] and [censored] were queerbaiting. [censored] was cultivating an audience of loyal vulnerable teenagers and he took advantage. So did [censored]. And [censored] who literally bites people? Oh… okay then.

Dream Lying was right about [censored]'s friend whom he invited into his home and whom he tried to gift a career, only to be outed as an abuser. We were right about [censored] coming from not just a conservative background, but a bigoted one, one that he refused to actually grapple with. We were right about MCC being rigged. We were right about the cheating scandal. We were right about so many things.

The only thing I was definitely wrong about was the [censored] really did hop off the plane at LAX with a dream and a cardigan. I thought he for sure would just put off the [censored] team hype house meetup forever. My psychic powers don't always work I guess. That wasn't a criticism though, just my coping. Oh and I was wrong that Ranboo was an industry plant, but I was right that he's annoying and has no talent. And Dream Lying said from day one that Tubbo and Ranboo's little relationship would not last the summer and we were right! In fact during that whole thing I also speculated that Tommy would start queerbaiting and then he did! I felt like Cassandra at times.

Anyway back to the point. I mean the criticisms of [censored] were just all encompassing, and basically stemmed from the fact that he was like all these video game boys- a white man from a republican household who was not properly media trained because Streaming is not a real industry career and none of them were prepared for fame. And that has borne out over and over again. They all have shady pasts, they all abuse their fame and take advantage of fans. So I do stand by these criticisms.

Q: Is there anything else you’d like to speak on or have archived?

A: Not really, I've already said far too much, so apologies to whoever edits these, I hope you enjoy the novel I wrote for you. I don't know, I have dementia, none of this is real. Karlarmy forever. Also who even knows if I'm the real Georgesoot.

[the-uncanny-dag]

How do I communicate to the broader DE fandom that I don't find jokes about Kim's French (Revacholian) accent funny without them calling me a buzzkill

[bucksdaffy]

I do not find your post condescending, but I think a lot of people want to talk about their theories without all the flaws being pointed out. As long as people don’t act like they know what’s going to happen or get upset when it doesn’t, there is no harm to have theories that have a 5% shot of happening. I still think it could happen but I won’t get upset if it doesn’t. But to have 217 there without Tommy being involved somehow would be kind of stupid of them imo.

Of course your kind of post are totally okay too! If people don’t like it they could just block and move on.

i get that, and i agree.

in a fandom full of delusional people who, when the thing they hope for doesn’t happen in canon, immediately start attacking the cast and crew, i guess i'm a little paranoid that my pride—bucktommy nation—could fall that way too. i know it hasn’t happened yet, but i'm afraid some might go down that path. i'm sure most bucktommy fans would call out such individuals, but yeah, it’s a little fear of mine nevertheless. i would love our part of the fandom to stay as chill as possible.

i love the theory that tommy is the one landing the plane, or even helping it land from the ground. hats off to the person who came up with it—it’s one of the best theories i've seen since joining the fandom. i've had so much fun imagining how it would play out, and i think it would be so badass. i'd love to see him do it. before 8x01 aired, i thought there was a solid chance it might happen. but somewhere between 8x01 and 8x02, i realized i might have gotten my hopes up a little too much. i just wanted people to consider that there could be another way for tommy to be involved, so they wouldn’t be too disappointed if what everyone hopes would happen doesn't. but i guess you’re right—everyone knows that already, and no one wants a buzzkill in the fandom.

i love that our side of the fandom has so much fun with canon. we base our theories on it, and it’s so exciting because there’s always a possibility—sometimes higher, sometimes lower—that they might come true. and by all means, please continue to enjoy it! just remember to stay cool if things don’t pan out the way you (general) expect them to. it's okay to feel disappointed, but let’s not bother anyone connected to the show about it (which i'm pretty sure we won’t do, but as the fandom grows, the possibility increases, and i dread the day our side gains more and more bad apples who would resort to such behaviour).

i already lost a couple of followers today so i'm glad people are curating their own space. as nonny said, if you don't vibe with my posts, feel free to block. and again, i'm sorry for being such a buzzkill.

[p-artsypants]

Blurb #10

I'm going to try to share 70 blurbs from my WIPs and unfinished fics to celebrate reaching 70 posted fics! To help with this endeavor, please feel free to send me a word or a fandom you know I write for, and I'll share the blurb. IDK if I'll get 70 prompts, but let's try it! Send as many as you want!

“Come on man, we’re not all going to fit in Thompson’s van!” “Yeah yeah, I can handle being responsible for Mabel and Dipper, but five teenagers too? Give me a break.” Robbie punched Soos in the arm. “Oh get real, Big Dude, don’t want to turn into Captain Buzzkill, do ya?” He pointed at Dipper. “Dude, you’re not helping your case.” Soos argued back. “Status update: this is going to be a long night.” “Uh~guys? My mom said that I have to ride in the front seat, cause it’s not safe in the truck bed.” Thompson squealed. “Nate, Lee,” Wendy called, throwing them a roll of duck tape. “Secure Thompson to the roof.” The teens high-fived each other while Thompson moaned. “So, Dr. Funtimes.” Mabel waggled her eyebrows. “What else does the book say about the Watermelon people?” “Melonheads, Mabel.” He corrected. “And it just says that they are likely to be inhuman due to the unnatural head growth.” “Psh, so they have big heads. Dipper has a big head.” Robbie shrugged. “That’s what I said!” Laughed Mabel. Dipper elbowed her. “Alright dudes, let’s get this over with.” Soos called, while everyone piled in. Wendy and Soos took front seat, while Dipper and Mabel sat in the back. The rest of the teens sat in the truck bed. “Melonhead hunting! Melonhead hunting!” They cheered. “Hey Dipper, should we have told Grunkle Stan where we were going?” “Nah, I doubt he’ll even notice we’re gone.” As the truck spend off into the woods, one could here the distant cry of a young man, “Are you guys really going to leave me up here?!”

[trappedinmymind]

1, 5, 14, 18, 20 from this ask game

1. What is your favorite trope to write?

In theory? Found family.

In practice? Some secret gets revealed that completely upends any sense of normalcy and/or understanding that the characters have in their life, and it seems like it's gonna completely destroy (sometimes metaphorically, usually physically) the characters but in the end, while the story doesn't end with everything being "fine", the characters and their relationships end up stronger and with a sense of (cautious) hope

I don't know if there's a name for that, but I've written it... 4 or 5 times now, probably for reasons I don't want to touch with a 10 foot pole

5. The fic you're most proud of writing?

You're Like Me. It's probably the longest I've ever been able to stay with a fic, both in terms of chapters and word count. I'm also really proud of how I've woven the allegory in with the plot, although I could have probably planned out the plot a bit more. Oh well

14. First fandom you ever wrote fanfiction for?

MCYT, though it's unpublished for what should be obvious reasons to anyone who's ever been in the MCYT fandom for an extended period of time

18. Most words/chapters ever written for one fic or oneshot?

So far, only counting published chapters, I'm at 15 chapters and three words shy of 38,000 words for You're Like Me. The next closest is 6 chapters and 25,500 words.

20. Hardest character to write/get the characterization correct for?

For Nimona specifically, I struggle with Ballister, Ambrosius, and Rurosiv (an OC in You're Like Me), each for different reasons.

Ambrosius is difficult for me in terms of just plain characterization. I feel like I don't have enough data to pull from for him; he's clearly a complex and dynamic character in the movie, but pretty much every scene with him he's either doing knight stuff or being a loverboy, and there's only so much I can comfortably extrapolate from that.

Ballister is more complicated when it comes to the allegory in You're Like Me. Specifically, I'm trying to have Ballister be kind of a "peacekeeper ally" (idk the actual term for it); someone who is an ally to a community (in this case the trans community), and is very well informed on issues the community faces, but struggles to call out when someone around them is being actively harmful to the community they're an ally to, especially if they believe the other person will get upset at being called out. I sometimes struggle to reconcile this with his canon personality, and sometimes feel as though he comes across as too naive. He's not naive, he is used to letting people get away with things they probably shouldn't.

Rurosiv is hard for a kind of similar kind of different reason to Ballister. Rurosiv was developed specifically to represent the disability community, and from there a lot of her trauma (and by extension a lot of her mannerisms) revolve around being forcibly hidden away, whether that be just the parts people don't want to see or her whole person. There's a lot more to her than this, but it affects a lot of how I write her. Having been in fandom spaces for as long as I have, my biggest challenge with her is writing her in a way that avoids her 1) being infantilized, 2) being seen as a woe-is-me helpless character, or 3) being seen as an emotionless/buzzkill character. I think I’ve got her balanced now, but it is very important to me that I get her right, so I am constantly analyzing how she comes across when I write her

Sorry that turned into a bit of a rant at the end, but Thanks so much for the ask! These were really fun, and of course if anyone wants to ask about other numbers from the ask game, or about writing in general, I’d love to answer!

[daisybellejpeg]

Hello, Daisy. I have a few questions. They are related to the Dr. Bright debacle, so feel free to delete this if that makes you uncomfortable.

First of all, are you okay with people making posts linking to your testimony? I've made some posts containing the Google Doc titled "Skeletons in the Amulet", and if this makes you uncomfortable, I will delete them.

Second of all, there are people with DID that have fictives (alternate personalities that take the form of a fictional character) of Doctor Jack Bright. Many of these people are not comfortable with the use of Elias Shaw, and some have outright stated that Shaw is triggering. What would you suggest for these people in this situation?

Honestly feel free to ask me about adminbright anytime. This goes for anyone who has questions about my testimony or the situation in general. The bastard has me blocked on Facebook but I still have the logs— that and I’ve figured out that being extremely detailed with receipts makes it harder for bright apologist squealers to cry “Political Corectness” or “Buzzkill” without looking like they’re backing up a nonce lol. I’m not a stranger to giving testimony on trauma in general and am more than happy to put on a brave face if it means others can stay safe and informed.

Now onto the two parter:

1. Fuck. Yes. Say no more. It puts AB on edge to hell and back. Actually, Mx. Peters has gone on two Facebook tyrades regarding my testimony before nuking their Facebook to private. They have other victims even irl that they’ve met at faires n cons, I still keep in touch with one actually.

The more this gets out alongside the aht message and Cimm’s video, the more impact it might have in fandom spaces they frequent. As of now they’re banned from two events due to the mountain of evidence that’s now levied against them. More awareness=less future victims. Use my doc as many times as your little heart desires.

2. Imma be real with you chief I am not a licensed shrink nor do I have full knowledge of DID aside from having three really good friends who have it. Actually it worries me quite a bit that there’s bright fictives given the whole possession fetish aspect of the character and how it enticed the sicko who created him. Only advice I can give is that you are in mostly full control to curate your personal experience online. Make use of the tag system here, mute words on Twitter, the works if you’re really that bothered by Shaw.

(Edit to add given that it’s been brought to my attention that this part can be confused for me still talking about people with DID, I’m talking about fully neurotypical people who use the character) I have several people who still use bright despite the trove of info on how that can be potentially dangerous blocked on here. It’s so weird to flex stanning some 40 year olds possession fetish character that they used (along with their position of power) to actively predate on minors and young adults but go off I guess?

If anyone gives me shit about Shaw tho? I bite back. I won’t tolerate being heckled about taking steps to minimize and prevent further damage from my groomer in this community in an attempt to heal from the shit I went through with Peters.

I was taken advantage of as a child when I was 9, once again when I was 16, and finally by bright when I was 20. The latter will be the last time I let it slide. I made a promise to myself that I will protect not only the past victims, some of whom I’m friends with, but also young impressionable fans from this lowlife coomer and their undeserved legacy. I will cyber bully (in Minecraft) anyone who tries to slam me for it. I will be the ultimate buzzkill for any indignant bright stan and call them out for indirectly sheltering the legacy of a predator. I’m not the only person tired of the character either. Many people on the wiki are and will side eye you at best if you complain about the overdue action being taken regarding bright the character.

I hope this answers your ask! Feel free to ask any additional questions if there’s anything I missed.

[awesomefringey]

Sometimes I feel like Louies are the biggest buzzkill ever because everyone just gets angry without knowing anything (on twitter, but it's there that news spread the most lol)

That guy was literally called their Italian manager during one direction, especially during This Is Us, he works with all of the boys, so what the team was doing was probably just getting everyone excited and getting people to talk about it... Instead fans started insulting eachother and being super gross ugh, it's so frustrating because it happens for everything that has to do with Louis 🫠🙃

(I also know that some people don't like the organizer, but I don't have any idea why, someone tried to explain it to me but they were a bit confusing ahahah)

And I get being protective of him, but the fandom is way too often crossing lines that shouldn't be crossed 😂

Oh, totally agree with you about the aggression level of some Louies. They act like they know what Louis wants and feel encouraged to attack people left and right. While it’s easy to clap back I’ve learned early on that the most hostile Louies are often also the youngest and newest to the fandom. It’s best to ignore them entirely. They probably go through some stuff to behave like that.

And thank you for the context about the guy in Italy. I didn’t know there was a link to One Direction.

[crackinwise]

can you elaborate more on why you don't like kanan? i've always been neutral when it comes to this character and didn't really care for him the way other fans did.

hera was cool though but filoni is probably going to fuck up her writing in the live action.

If you had asked me this years ago I would have had a detailed, chronological list. Regretfully, memory problems. And full disclosure: I only watched like 2 seasons then some episodes every now and then bc my lil bro watched it.

What I do remember is Rebels had amazing women characters. Every single one was bold and unapologetic and carving out her own spot in important lore. The men..... Useless. And had butt-ugly character designs too, but that's just me being petty. Ezra was the most forgivable for solely existing to Screw Up bc his knockoff-Aladdin ass was just a kid, but Zeb & Kanan had no excuses for being insufferable deadbeats.

Kanan was what recent fandom would call poor little meow meow. Depressed, angsty, emo, buzzkill, joy vampire, abloobloobloo, etc. I have a memory of Ezra watching this grown man sit in a room like a moody, teenage zombie. When he wasn't being a zombie he was being an asshole to everyone with zero moments of charisma or vulnerability to earn it. "BUT HE SURVIVED ORDER 66! HE'S TRAUMATIZED!" Sure, I'd get that, if they focused on him working thru that, gave him a personality in the meantime, and Order 66 hadn't happened like 14 YEARS PRIOR.

That's the entirety of Rebels to me. Hera and Sabine (and sometimes Ahsoka) being amazing, competent, charismatic, brave, moving the plot forward and fighting thru, while also being kind and caring and funny. Then we had Zeb and Kanan being complete jerkoffs who do nothing but mooch off these heroes at every turn. Hera should have dropped them out an airlock. You can tell a man who sleeps with his own picture wrote them. The greatest pilot of all time in the entire galaxy did not deserve to cart the most boring, sadsack, failed Jedi around out of pity. "BUT KANAN BECAME A HERO! HE GREW AFTER HE BECAME BLIND, AND HE SACRIFICED HIMSELF!" Oh, so disability p**n. He's so weak of a character that the best thing he ever did was die? Great job, Filoni. He shoulda just thrown himself down a sarlacc pit in s1 and Ezra could've had Hera as a mentor. Hell, even Maul would have been better at the job. And they eventually made Hera carry that failure's child? BOOOOOOO!

That got a bit more salty than I wanted, sorry.

[gigglyrambles]

Of Campaigns & Revelations (Steve/Eddie)

Fandom: Stranger Things Characters: Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson Summary: Eddie loves planning campaigns, Steve loves planning events. So how exactly did the dream team get so sidetracked? Words: 2700+

Notes: Ahhhh not only is he late with his first fic on this account, but he's late for SS too. I was lucky enough to write a fic for the absolutely incredibly talented @rosiesramblings! I tried to use all of your prompts (earning a reward, too much energy and boredom) somewhere in the fic and apologies for the late post, but I hope you like It!!! A big thank you to our lovely host @hypahticklish too. Happy happy holidays and a wonderful new year to everyone.

Sometimes, Eddie Munson laughs and Steve swears it could shatter that Garfield mug he’s so obsessed with— despite the fact that he only uses the damn thing for hot chocolate.

Like the breathy laughter that burst from his lips last friday, When Robin spent a little too long comparing an old photo of Steve to the baby from The Labyrinth. Most memorably, a joke about their shared fashion taste had the party’s favorite dungeon master quite literally wheezing on the shag carpet, clutching his sides as if he’d never recover from the sheer hilarity of it all.

Or perhaps he was thinking of the high pitched yelp of laughter that broke free every time he was caught off guard. As much as Eddie hated to be genuinely scared, he found way too much amusement in getting jump scared. Shitty horror films, friends hiding behind doors, or even that lame haunted house from Halloween— All of the above earned the same result, a shriek that dissolved into laughter about halfway through.

Then again, they weren’t all bubbly and loud. Eddie’s laughter could be soft and sweet too, harboring an almost shy cadence when the time called for it and…

It’s at this exact moment, with utensils ever so neatly tucked into napkins and plates set along the grand mahogany dining room table, that Steve realizes he’s been thinking about Eddie Munson way too much. All it took was one crappy little chuckle, one silly reaction to a half assed joke, for his thoughts to wander. Anything the other said during his trance was a mystery, though as that playful voice came back into frame, Steve figured the context clues were probably easy enough to figure out.

“-not a fighter, clearly. Maybe a Paladin or a bard. One thing is for sure, you’d definitely play an elf or a half elf. A prince maybe. Estranged?” Eddie’s rambles are definitely pointed towards him, although it’s clearly more of a conversation with himself than anything else.

Calf crossed over thigh, he sits on the kitchen counter. Pale hands hold a green piping bag steady over a tray of freshly cooked sugar cookies, adding some ghoulish finishing touches. “Just say the word, Big Boy, and I’ll create the most perfect, personalized Steve Harrington campaign of the year.”

“You mean the only Steve Harrington campaign of the year?” Steve retorts.

Just like always, sarcasm drips from his lips like honey. Even after volunteering his house, time and energy to Eddie and his Hellfire Goblins, the self proclaimed babysitter still can’t seem to fight his natural born grumpiness.

That persona was like a security blanket or a teddy bear; Steve’s always relied on it to make the world less scary or more accurately, to make himself less vulnerable. The Harrington Boy, The King, The Babysitter, every new iteration had improvements, but they also had one thing in common: A security mechanism, an off switch of sorts. Something that Eddie Munson clearly lacked.

“Only cause you’re a buzzkill.” Eddie insists, licking a bit of green from his fingertips.

The cookies are far from perfect but they’ll undoubtedly impress the kids. Dark eyes examine each one with a precision he definitely didn’t supply when creating them, though eventually he deems them good enough with a dimpled grin and a cheeky thumbs up.

With two hours left on the clock, Eddie finds himself at a loss. All the fun tasks for the campaign tonight have been finished. Food and snacks were the first on the list to be crossed off with pizza scheduled for later and fresh baked cookies set to the side. Decorations were next. Everything from miniature figurines to home made maps to origami dragons and mini potion bottles for the kids filled with juice.

The idea to spike the potion bottles had been vetoed with a very amusing yet indignant huff. Despite Eddie's insistence that he was a 'born rebel' at fifteen, Steve refuses to give them a lick of alcohol before they hit senior year.

Aside from that, all that was left was mundane tasks like vacuuming or cleaning up the newly created mess in the kitchen. Most people would have cheered, thankful to finish their list of chores before the fun could begin. Though most people didn’t have as much energy as Eddie Munson.

“Well this is it, Stevie.” Eddie pipes up a few moments later, watching the other brunette readjust the table settings for a bunch of soon to be sophomores who definitely wouldn’t notice if the fork was on the left side or the right. “Two hours left and you’re too busy turning my campaign into a murder mystery dinner to pay attention to me so clearly? I’m dying. I can’t believe I’m gonna die of boredom in the Harrington Household… So big. So cold. So… white and mundane for someone as vibrant as myself.”

Eddie’s melodramatic performance is enough to peak Steve’s interest, but not his amusement.

“Finish Vacuuming the living room or stop complaining” Steve answers flatly. Over time, he’s learned that playing into the antics only magnifies them. Ninety nine percent of the time, just disregarding Eddie’s insane childish tendencies made them go away. “Besides, you can’t die from boredom.”

Ninety nine percent of the time, that would have worked.

Unfortunately, there was still that worrisome one percent to worry about.

“Well you might.”

“I might what—” Oblivious as ever, Steve finally ditches the table settings. Turning on his heel, the brunette’s lips are already parted, ready to question what the hell that response implies when he catches sight of the other’s stance.

Kitchen counter long since abandoned, the feisty dungeon master is taking stake across the room. Socked feet slide across dark polished wood, eerily unsettling in the quiet pace they set. Pale hands are held up, turned into claws with wiggling fingers that make Steve’s stomach flip as uncertainty settles in.

“Okay, okay. You might not die from my boredom.” Eddie hums lowly, lips curling into a grin that can only be described as downright mischievous. Each word is drawn out slower than the last, anticipation building between the two. “But you might not survive the cure. Let's see. I already tried knock knock jokes, barely effective. Funny movies, ehh somewhat works— Unless they’re too weird. Then you just sit all grumpy and confused— Anyway, not the point! Dear Steven, my point is…”

Similar to those puzzles Nancy used to force on him while babysitting Mike, he should’ve figured it out sooner, but he’s definitely seeing the picture a bit more clearly with time. They’re approximately halfway through Eddie’s villainous monologue when it clicks. Every example revolves around making him laugh which is an incredibly flustering thought all on its own. Out of all the ways to cure his boredom, Eddie wanted to do so while making Steve smile. Most people focused on his hair, his ass, his better known assets.

Eddie Munson was the first person to ever fixate on something so mundane.

Thankfully, Steve doesn’t have a second to worry about the heat crawling up the back of his neck, or the slowly developing crush that he’s most certainly going to ignore.

“… that I never asked if you were ticklish. Always felt like a cheap shot, you know? Low hanging fruit, but in the name of science, we do have to test every—” And that’s all it takes. The second the word ticklish leaves Eddie’s lips, the former jock is sprinting across the length of the dining room table and out of the room.

Heart hammering in his chest, the beat is so loud Steve can practically hear it ringing in his ears. White converse round a corner, running into the living room while quick footsteps sound close behind.

“Oh come on, Pretty Boy.” Eddie snorts through a laugh of his own. “Don’t run away from me!”

If he just looked back, he would have seen the way Eddie smiled at him from ear to ear, excitement and giddiness bursting from his pores. He would have seen the way the other nearly slipped in his socks, clearly lacking any grip as they ran around like little boys again. He would have seen the way those dark eyes lingered, how they drank him in, admiring his toned legs from years of athletics.

If he just looked back, maybe he would have registered how close he was to his demise. Then again, if he looked back, then Eddie might have seen how flustering that pet name was, or worse: He could have seen the smile tugging at his lips.

One foot rounds the corner of the couch but never gets the opportunity to touch down. Instead, fingers curl around the back of his sweater, swiftly pulling Steve until he’s falling. His back hits the sofa cushions with a soft grunt, brown locks splayed across the decorative pillow.

Everything flips in an instant. Eddie’s upper hand turns to shit the second he jumps onto the couch. Leaving more than enough room in between them, Steve takes the opportunity to act. Lightning quick reflexes give him just enough time to weave underneath the metalhead’s arm, flipping their positions until Eddie’s the one with his back against the couch and wide eyes looking up.

Though rather than looking scared he looks… exhilarated.

Any anxiety written across Steve’s face a minute ago is missing from Eddie’s now. As the general surprise wears off, he goes from wide eyed to giggly, immediately throwing his hands up in a mercy pose he knows won’t work. Wild curls fall in every direction, the occasional soft breathy laugh stumbling from his lips as he tries to worm out from underneath Steve’s pin.

“Stevie, C’mon. I was just trying to have a little bit of fun- Wait wait- Steve Hey-” In the long debated question of Dungeon Master Vs. Varsity Athlete, they finally know who comes out on top. Eddie’s rambled mixture of explanations, apologies and pleas fall on deaf ears the second nimble fingers touch down on his sides.

One of the most accessible vantage points, it proves rather successful when one squeeze elicits a sharp huff, all the air in his lungs leaving at once. Eddie’s body instinctively tries to pull away again, hands attempting to intercept Steve’s insistent poking and prodding of the soft flesh.

The silence lasts all of seven seconds. Any attempt to threaten Steve dies on his lips, choked out to make room for all the laughter taking control. Immediately thrashing around to the best of his ability, it’s clear that Eddie’s not going down peacefully.

“A little bit of fun doing what, Eds?” Steve questions. “Annoying me? Chasing me around my own house? I mean, shit, Munson. How the hell do you even have all of this energy? Honestly. I did you a favor flipping the tables, you clearly needed to tire yourself out.”

Each new guess and tease is accentuated with another poke at his vulnerable sides. One to the left right below his ribs, one to the right closer to his back, two on either side near his tummy, and one aimed in that squishy spot directly above his pantline— One that has his giggles interlaced with squeaks and squeals, struggling to handle any sort of stimulation that close to his hips.

“Nohohoho not thehehere!” Eddie whines half heartedly, though Steve can’t help but notice how little he fights back, hardly using any strength whatsoever in his attempts to grab onto those tortuous digits.

Thankfully for the thrashing Dungeon Master, Steve doesn’t get the chance to drill his thumbs into the divots of his hips for very long. An incredible stop on his grand tour of Eddie Munson’s giggle buttons, the destination proves to be too much. One sharp dig earns a yell so piercing the neighbor’s dog begins to bark, rough hands diving forward to grab onto anything for some sort of stability.

What Eddie’s trained fingers find instead is that squeezing Steve Harrington’s thighs renders the guy practically useless. A loud shriek splatters around the room, high pitched almost desperate giggles flying from his mouth. Any ounce of strength was sapped, curling up against Eddie’s chest in a way he’d swear was romantic in any other circumstance.

Umber eyes meet hazel, gazes locked with recognition on both sides before the tables are flipped yet again. Eddie hooks a leg underneath Steve’s knee, an arm worming out from below to wrap around his waist.

Before the Family Video employee can so much as suck in a breath from his fit of giggles, they’re back in the original position with a self proclaimed babysitter pretending not to enjoy himself on bottom and a metalhead who couldn’t hide it if he tried on top.

It turns out that Steve Harrington fucking shape shifts when you tickle him. The former jock’s confident sarcastic persona changes to something else entirely. If Eddie’s attempts to get away were half assed then Steve’s attempts don’t exist. Every new spot or tactic is brought with a new form of laughter, but they all have the same thing in common:

Steve’s leaning into it.

There’s no denying it. When teasing nails drag up his side, he turns into the affection rather than away from it. When his lower stomach is kneaded like a fresh pile of dough, he leans forward instead of pushing back. And when thumbs drill into his armpits, the brunette actually attempts to keep his arms up or at least not locked at his sides god forbid their fun ends too soon after being blocked.

Of course, Steve doesn’t notice this. Nor does he realize that Eddie was noticing this, but one of them has to be the observant one and it’s not the mess of giggles currently turning rosier with every passing second.

It’s almost as if their enjoyment is the key. Once that last bit of hesitance drains out, calloused fingers waste no time. Eddie changes spots again, this time clawing at his ribs with a smile that reeks of both vengeance and affection, a combo punch that would have made Steve breathless if he wasn’t already dissolving under deep belly laughter.

There’s way less talking now too. While Eddie’s an incredibly wiggly and talkative victim, babbling and thrashing through his hysterics, Steve seems to struggle getting anything out other than his laughter, only managing the occasional babble or squeal induced ‘Eds!’.

Finally those skilled guitarist fingers choose to take pity on him, allowing Steve to actually get a word in.

“Nohot… fair.” He breathes out through residual giggles. It doesn’t matter that the tickling has since ceased. Ghost sensations still tease and taunt across his sensitive skin, mentally swearing that he could still feel those fingertips dancing across his torso.

Eddie’s endearment drips like honey, dark eyes warming at the sight of his friend still struggling to get his act together. “No? I think that was totally fair. Plus, I slaved over those cookies, Stevie Boy. Heart and soul. Body and mind. Don’t I deserve a little prize?” His lips curl into a wicked grin, knowing damn well that his next words would fluster more than soothe. “Perhaps shaped in the form of those cute ass giggles of yours?”

Just as expected, heat begins to crawl up the back of Steve’s neck at the sentiment, though the rosy hue on his face from earlier makes it easy to mask the blush currently spreading. As if proving Eddie’s point further, playful pokes return to Steve’s torso, randomly nudging little spots until he’s back to bubbly uncontrollable giggles.

Using the last bit of strength, he reaches out to give Eddie’s side a squeeze, earning matching breathy laughter in return.

The fight grows less clear after that. Stray pokes and occasional squeezes keep both boys giddy, lost in their own little bubble.

For as long as he could remember, Steve Harrington had been a fixer. Even when the most misguided, he tried to right his own wrongs as well as everyone else’s around him. What began in early childhood as a terribly sad attempt of bringing his parents together had warped into a personality trait, a role he constantly forced himself to play out of fear of feeling useless.

But now the pressure of planning a perfect event for the kids is long forgotten and somehow he knows it’ll all work out. Because Eddie’s laughter is interlaced with his, their cheeks rosy and breath staggered. Suddenly, that familiar ache in his chest doesn’t feel quite as heavy as before and Steve realizes while doing absolutely nothing important at all, that he doesn't feel useless. He realizes that maybe…

“Hoholy Shit, Harrington. Forget weed. I think those damn giggles of yours got me high.”

Maybe this feeling between them was something else entirely.

Sometimes, Eddie Munson laughs and Steve wonders if love has always sounded like this.

[a-vild-bluemyrtle]

Lucky Night | Embry Call x OC

Fandom: Twilight - Wolfpack

MC: Embry Call - Quil Ateara - OC

Requested: yes!! Anonymous asked: can you please write anything to do with Embry!!

Here you go, I hope you like it! <3

Twilight Wolfpack Masterlist

Lucky night

“Em, my sweetest boy, friend of a lifetime, best friend for the eterni- “

“Cut it off. What the hell do you want Quil?” Embry interrupted him brutally. When Quil started a phone call in that way, it meant one thing, that Embry was fucked, completely fuckety-fucked.

“I matched with some- “

“No.”

“But you didn’t even hear everyth- “

“I said no, Quil.”

“EMBRY! Listen to me, she’s hot.”

“NO.”

“Embry, you won’t ruin my weekend of wild sex just because you’re stupid! You’re coming”.

“In what language do you want me to say it? Spanish… NO!”

“Embry, man”.

“No, I won’t be your sideman for your 100th date of this month, you sick little wolf whore”.

And then the phone call ended.

Embry couldn’t recall all the blind double dates he had to go to because Quil matched with someone on Tinder. Seriously, that guy matched with every living thing, and poor Embry he was the side companion who always had to settle for the boring side girl who didn’t want to be there too.

How many times he and the “other” girl had to sit there, in a restaurant or a bakery or a cafe and watch the lovebirds say stupid things. And it went over and over and over again since Quil was not interested in going out with the same girl twice.

“Why should I waste time with the same girl if one day I’ll meet my imprint. Until then, this boy here just wants to have fun”, he said while downloading that damn app on his phone.

He was not entirely wrong though, Embry had to admit, but he couldn’t imagine that his old friend would have become a womanizer.

How many girls could have been interested in Quil?

Apparently, a lot. But like, really a lot.

But this time, oh this time Embry wouldn’t have let Quil convince him. Going on another blind date with another side girl was out of the question, he would have rather spent his Saturday night playing video games with the pack than go out with Quil again.

How Embry ended up in Quil’s car on that Saturday evening, though, was a mystery.

“Damn me! This is the last time, Quil, clear?” he shouted, while his best friend was grinning.

“You are incapable of saying no, Em. I could ask you to jump out of the car now and you’d do it.”.

“Ok, this is absolutely wrong. I would rather punch you out of this stupid car. And once this nightmare ends, I’ll surely punch you in the face. Multiple times”.

“Yeah, yeah, sure buddy”.

Embry spent the entire ride to Port Angeles promising himself to not end in Quil’s trap ever again.

After 30 minutes of Quil singing RED (Taylor Swift’s version) on a loop, they finally arrived at the pub where this blind double date was supposed to happen.

Quil and Embry couldn’t show more different emotions, the first one was excited and was already thinking about his dessert while the other one… well, Embry’s face showed it all.

“Stop being a buzzkill and smile, if this goes wrong, I’ll kill you”. Quil whispered while they were heading to the entrance.

The pub was full of people, all laughing and drinking and chitchatting about different things. The two friends could distinctly hear anything that every person was saying in that place.

Wolf hearing, you know.

Embry rolled his eyes, already preparing himself for another boring night.

“They were supposed to be here already”.

Embry frowned.

“So, they’re not here?”

“I cannot see them anywhere”, Quil replied, with a worried tone of voice.

On Embry’s face, a little sarcastic smirk started to appear.

“Would it be possible that this girl just dumped you?”

“Nah, man, she was so into me! It’s impossible!”

“There’s a little pitch in your voice, man. You’re not fooling me”. Embry said, before bursting into a thunderous laugh and patting his best friend on his shoulders.

It was the first time that someone dumped Quil on a Tinder double date and the guy was almost destroyed.

“A-Ah, it can’t be. It’s impossible”, he said, taking his phone out of the pocket and looking for her number. He tried to call her, but the voice mail kept going.

“She ghosted and dumped you the same night, nice job!” Embry continued, laughing again.

Quil clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes.

“Fuck, she really dump-ghosted me. I wasn’t expecting that”.

And you could see it in his eyes that he really was expecting something completely opposite to what was happening.

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world.” His best friend said, handing him a beer.

“yeah no, but I lost my fucking bet! I own Paul 50 bucks”.

“And you own me a Frozen yoghurt”.

“I really need to explain to you how betting works, again. Kim is better than you at this.” Quil said, bumping his shoulder into his best friend’s one.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. I hate the smell of all these hormones”, continued Embry with a disgusted expression.

The two wolves immediately headed to the exit, Embry still patting Quil on his shoulder and Quil sighing again and again. His ego was hurt, a lot. But he knew that there was nothing that a night spent playing video games with Embry and Jake couldn’t heal.

“Quil? Is that you?” a warm and trembling female voice asked. It came from behind.

Embry and Quil turned at the same time, curious to know who that tiny voice belonged to.

It was a short girl, russet skin and long straight hair. She was covered in an oversized teddy coat because for humans, that night was an extremely cold one.

“Ariel?” Quil asked, getting closer to her. It was dark in the parking lot and even wolf-eyes couldn’t see that girl clearly.

“Yes! It’s me, I’m so sorry my car broke, and my phone… well it’s gone too”, she said taking a few steps forward, just the ones that were needed for the two boys to see her face completely.

And that moment, Embry’s body completely froze. Time and space were not the same anymore, nothing mattered, nor Quil and his stupid double dates or the videogames or his inability to bet. He stood there, looking at the small girl like she was a bright fallen star or even better, a goddess that came down on Earth only for him.

That was the only time Embry was truly happy to have accepted Quil’s forced invitation to a date.

“Are you ok, Ariel? What happened?” Quil asked her, getting really close to her.

Maybe a little bit too close according to Embry’s new jealousy.

“My car stopped in the middle of nowhere and my phone fell from my purse, I was only able to call a taxi to come here. I’m sorry to be so late”. She was indeed really sorry, her voice and her body could tell, and Embry was slowly dying inside because no, she could not be sad, not under his watch.

“Oh, it’s ok, no worries! Are you alone? Where’s your friend?”

“Last minute change of plans, I’m sorry again”.

“No worries at all, my friend Embry her…”

It took Quil only one quick look to understand what happened. He looked at Embry, and then at Ariel and then at Embry again.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” He shouted, not believing to his own eyes. It was all just a stupid joke, he was sure.

Was he?

Was it really just a joke?

“Is everything ok, is your friend ok?” Ariel asked, getting closer to Embry.

“Hi, I’m Ariel,” she said to him, raising her face to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry you had to wait here with Quil for me”.

Embry had to collect all his remaining strength to articulate a sentence that had a meaning. Her eyes were so mesmerizing, and he could have gladly spent the rest of the night looking into them.

He smiled at her.

“Ah no worries, everything is fine. We’re happy you’re safe and sound”, he said with his warmest tone and husky voice.

“Were you going home? I probably wasted your time”, Ariel said – her attention growing more and more on Embry that she almost forgot she was there to see Quil.

“Actually… no. Quil owns me a frozen yoghurt and we were going to get some. Want to join?”

“NO”.

“I would love to”.

Quil and Ariel replied at the same time.

“Perfect”, Embry replied back, moving to his side to show her where their car was.

In the meantime, Quil was there a few steps away from the two newly lovebirds, looking at them with an angry expression.

How could it be possible? She was supposed to be his date. Not Embry’s fucking imprint.

Embry glanced at him, smirking.

“You coming?” he asked Quil while opening the passenger door for Ariel, and helping her sit in the car.

Quil growled and covered in a few seconds the distance from the car. He opened the driver’s door, but Embry immediately stopped him.

“Wrong door, man”.

Quil growled again. “You own me this”, he whispered.

“I know”, Embry grinned.

And he meant it.

Embry really owned Quil everything from that night on.

Who would have known that for the first time he would have been the main character instead of his best friend?

Apparently, fate did.

The same fate that let Ariel’s car break in the middle of nowhere.

That nowhere being the Quileute’s reservation borders, precisely.

What were the odds?

[adarlingwrites]

Leave it to the Wind

Summary: Between deadlines, an awful transport system, and aswangs lurking about in the shadows, you have much to worry about as a college student in Manila, and it's so much that your social life is practically dead. Your wind people roommates want to help you remedy that.

Words: 9343

Relationships: The Kambal/Reader (Crispin/Reader/Basilio)

Warnings: Adult content, alcohol, brief scene of sexual harassment

Author’s Notes: God, the fandom is so thirsty for the Kambal, and so am I. Finally, some Filipino himbo representation.

The premise is: Hannah and Amie decides to play matchmaker. Hilarity ensues. Smut ensues. Please be nice, I based the characterizations of the character on the Netflix series and Trese wiki pages since I couldn't get my hands on the original comics yet oof. Some words, like terms of endearment and curse words, will remain in Filipino. Translations are provided. Reader is AFAB and is referred to with female pronouns.

Reposting this from AO3 with all three chapters in one post. A Filipino (Taglish) translation is in the works!

I

You don’t know how they managed to convince you, to be honest.

You rarely ever go out at night anymore. So many strange incidents transpire in Manila’s narrow streets. Just recently, you’ve heard of a new story about a tikbalang who allegedly participated in illegal street races.

So when your roommates and friends Amie and Hannah invited you for a night out, you hesitated. You gave them every excuse you can think of; you needed to do laundry, you needed to study, you needed to finish a project, and so on.

You know that the two of them are wind people, but you can’t help but think. Which of the various stories you had been hearing are real? What else in this world you haven’t witnessed yet?

“Aw, you’re such a buzzkill! Pretty please? You don’t go out with us as often. Enjoy yourself a little,” Amie whines, lying on the sofa of your living room.

On the other hand, Hannah turns to you with a mischievous grin on her face. “C’mon, get dressed already,” she commanded. “There are some total hotties we’d like you to meet! One of them might catch your eye!”

“I told you, I don’t need a relationship. You two try this every week. How do you even know so many people?” you retort, laughing softly at yourself.

“Well, our night lives are active,” Hannah retorted. “Don’t forget our sex lives!” the other added. Hearing those words, you felt your face get flushed with heat.

You needed a good fuck.

“Damn it, fine! As long as you pay for me.”

They finally got you to say yes.

As the night went on, you went to several bars, and you swore that you had explored every crevice of the city. It doesn’t help that the guy Amie and Hannah were with, a tall, dark and handsome man with flowing locks of black hair, drove like a demon. You got around quickly in no time.

Around an hour after midnight, you’re all exhausted from a night of dancing and mingling. None of the people your friends introduced to you caught your attention. At that point, you just wanted a stiff drink to unwind.

Voicing it to your drinking buddies, they nod in agreement.

“I know just the place, in Malate,” the man you’re with said. “Quiet. Discreet. I can take you there, if you want.”

“You mean The Diabolical, right? Let’s go! Text Crispin and Basilio, they might be hangin’ there too,” Amie croons.

A chuckle escapes your lips upon hearing their names. “Huh? Were they named after the characters in Jose Rizal’s novel?”

“I think so? Whatever! But seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!”

The remark made you laugh so hard, you swore you can be heard in the next city. “What the fuck! Amie, gaga ka, Sisa was their mom! The context of that scene was rough.”

Hannah’s mischievous grin spreads on her face once more, and she gently elbows your side. “Well, if you’re lucky, in this context you’d be crying their names while your eyes roll to the back of your head.”

You’ll never admit it, but you had hoped all their teasing would come true.

It didn’t take long for the four of you to reach your destination. As you enter The Diabolical, a strange chill envelopes you. The air feels different inside; it’s almost as if you stepped in a different world. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, but when you looked around, you saw a duwende sitting by the bar. Or was it called a nuno? At the end of the bar, you saw them; two men both dressed in black suits. One has short hair, while the other one has longer, reaching past his shoulders. However, they’re facing away from you. Only the back of their head and part of their cheeks were visible where you stood.

You snapped out of it when the man you three are with spoke up. “I’m gonna call it a night. Have fun, you three.”

“For real? Wow Maliksi, this is the first time I ever saw you wanting to leave early. Aren’t you gonna stop by and say hi to Alex?” Hannah asks him.

“Maybe next time,” Maliksi answers back, a somber expression on his face. “Oh em gee, did you two fight? Wait, what are you two?” Amie asks.

“Whatever. It’s complicated. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Your friends nodded and let Maliksi be. He waves at your group, and heads out the door. The engine of his car roars to life, and his car screeches away.

As the car moved farther away though, it seems that the screeching of the tires turned into hoofbeats.

Perhaps it’s just your imagination.

“Amie! Hannah! Have a drink! Hey, who’s that with you? Is that the person you’ve been wanting us to meet for ages now?”

Your head turns to where the voice was coming from; one of the men in the suits, the one with short hair in particular. You finally had a good look on their faces.

Twins?

“Crispin! Meet our friend! This is…”

As Amie and Hannah introduce you to the Twins, you can’t help but stare. You took the sight of their features in; they’re tall, with broad shoulders, and hard muscle underneath that black suit and white tie ensemble. They have wide noses with a high bridge, prominent bone structure, and a prominent widow’s peak.

Merciful Bathala, they’re gorgeous.

What caught your attention the most are their eyes. They're pitch black, save for the small reflection of light.

Are these people even human?

“Stare at them like that any longer and they might melt,” Amie teases. The two of your friends are giving you an ear-splitting grin due to your reaction to the Twins.

“I, uh-” you stuttered, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t be shy. You can sit between us, miss. We’re all friends here,” the twin with the longer hair says. If the other one is Crispin, then this must be Basilio.

Behind you, your friends are already giggling. They took their places next to the twins and leaned on their biceps. Across from you, the bartender comes to take your order.

“What’ll it be, kid?” he asks.

For some reason, you’re panicking. Maybe it’s because of the alcohol in your system. Or maybe it’s because you’re sandwiched between the twins. “Uh, what would you recommend, manong?”

Laughter erupted from the twins. “Hank, she called you manong!” Basilio teases while grinning like a fucking dog. “Geez, are you really that old?” Crispin eggs him on, giving him a shit-eating grin. Hank takes a wet rag he uses to wipe down the countertop and strikes the two down. “You goddamn assholes!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing with them.

“Ow! Alright, we’re sorry, we’re sorry. Get them the best seller, Hank. We’ll pay for their tab,” Basilio says, and Hannah and Amie squeals with joy.

“Oh em gee, you boys are so sweet! Thank youuu!”

As Hank prepares you a drink, you try conversing with the twins. “You two seem fun to have as drinking buddies.”

Hank turns around to reach a bottle from the shelf. “Those two are mischievous little shits, that’s for sure. You know, when these two were kids...”

“Hey man, don’t embarrass us like that in front of our new friend,” Crispin whines.

While the three continues fucking around, you leaned back slightly to glimpse at Amie, who was trying to get your attention for a while now. She points to her phone, and you fetch yours from your bag.

You read your group chat with them. “Soooo, do you like, like them?” Hannah’s message said.

“You’re into them aren’t you? You got so shy around them, it’s so cute!” Amie’s message said.

“Right? It’s rare to see you so flustered!”

You typed away furiously at your phone, cautious to not let the twins beside you see the conversation.

“Well, they’re an improvement from the ones you introduced me to earlier. Easier on the eyes, too…”

Your friends giggled, and as their drinks arrived, they stood up. “Girl, we’re gonna leave you with them, there’s some super hot tikbalangs who just came in the bar. Byeeee!”

“Hey, wait!”

They didn’t heed your words and went to sit on the tikbalangs’ laps.

Fuck, tikbalangs are real? Is Maliksi a tikbalang too?

“And off they go, flirting with those beasts after they’ve used us for drinks,” Crispin laments, voice dripping with light-hearted sarcasm.

“It’s not like it’s the first time we got used by them though,” Basilio adds, cringing.

You can’t help but laugh.  “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

Basilio’s head whips towards you, sweat gathering on his brow. “Seriously?! Shit, what did they say about us?”

“All good things, don’t you worry,” you answered.

“Nah, I need to hear what they said word for word,” the twin with long hair responds. “This is making me paranoid!”

Crispin moves closer to you, Basilio puts a friendly arm around your shoulder, and you can only smile. All of you are inebriated and if you were sober, and if someone else dared to get this close to you, you might’ve slapped them. But you feel good about the Twins, and your roommates never put you in harm’s way, so your trust for them extended to the brothers, somehow.

“Just tell us already,” Crispin slurs. “Tell us what they said about us. We’re curious.”

“Fine, fine. Okay, Amie and Hannah mentioned your names when Maliksi suggested that we head here to drink. Then, I mentioned that your names came from Rizal’s novels.”

“Then Amie said,” you continued, pausing briefly to come up with an impression of your roommate’s speech. “‘Seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!’ Fuck, it was so messed up!”

“That’s messed up, alright,” Basilio sputters, his face a deep shade of crimson. “I’m this hot and those are the only details they can spare?!”

“Ok, but that Sisa joke was kind of funny though. But it was still fucked up,” Crispin adds, and he takes a sip of his drink.

“Hold your horses, the story’s not done yet,” you say. You’re starting to feel more confident around the two.

Your conversation went places, until you found yourselves drinking until three in the morning, and at that point, it’s only just the four of you in the bar; Hank, the Twins, and you. Even Hannah and Amie are nowhere to be seen. Knowing them, they probably took the tikbalangs they were flirting with back to your apartment.

They didn’t even wait for you. Looks like they’re really setting you up tonight. Maybe they wanted the apartment to themselves tonight, and they got exactly what they wanted.

You had planned on getting up to go to the restroom, but when you tried standing up, you almost fell from the chair. The Twins caught you before you landed face first against the floor.

“She’s had enough to drink,” Hank comments. They set you on a chair with a backrest. “How will she get home? We can’t send her off in a cab at this rate. The train doesn't run this late either.”

“Hannah left her behind too,” Crispin adds.

“Hey, how are we gonna deal with this?” Basilio asks. “We can get you home once we sober up a little. It’s fine if you-”

Basilio never got to finish what he was going to say, because you nodded off against his stomach, and puked your lunch out.

You don’t remember anything after that.

When you awaken, the sun is already high up, and the first thing that greets you is the fan in the ceiling. Your muscles are screaming at you, and your throat feels dry. Memories of last night came crashing back and you started sweating in horror. Maybe it’s just a drunken dream, but it felt all too real.

You were flirting with these gorgeous twins, had too much to drink, and at some point puked all over one of the twins’ shoes.

And now, you don’t know whose bedroom you are in. You check yourself, and you’re still wearing the same clothes, with nothing out of place. There are no bruises or marks on your body either. You looked around you, but there was no one else in the room.

The doors crack open slightly, and you see two pairs of void-black eyes.

“I… um… good morning?”

“It’s… already 2 in the afternoon,” one of them says. He has long hair. This one is the twin you threw up on.

“Why don’t you have some lunch?” the other one said.

You just nodded and said nothing else, ashamed of yourself. You threw up on one of them and now you’re eating at their table. You just wanted the ground to swallow you alive.

“Sorry for puking on you last night,” you near-whispered to Basilio after you swallowed your first bite of food.

The silence broke when Crispin roared with laughter, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. Meanwhile, Basilio was glaring daggers at his brother. He’s frowning like a child whose toy got taken from him. “Sure, keep laughing, kuya.”

“I’ll never show my face here again, I promise,” you say to them, hiding your face behind your hands.

“What’re you talking about? Forget about it. We’re friends now, right?” Basilio tells you, smiling. “But next time, vomit on my brother too.”

“No one’s throwing up because I won’t be allowing any of you to get wasted that bad ever again,” Hank announces as he enters the room with a carafe in his hand. “Bossing’s not gonna like it if the bar ends up smelling as bad as Basilio’s room. Here, have some coffee.”

“We should introduce you to bossing next time too. She’s not here at the moment,” Crispin adds. “Let’s do this again next week.”

The invitation made you smile, and you poured yourself a cup of coffee. You continued eating the rest of your meal.

“...my room doesn’t smell that, right?” Basilio asks after a few moments of silence.

“Gago, it stinks so bad. It’s why we made the guest stay at my room, because if she stayed at yours she could’ve died from how bad it is,” Crispin exclaims. “Seriously, how can you live with bringing women to your room at that point?”

“Kuya, you’re embarrassing me to our guest!”

Translations for non-Filipino speaking folks:

bossing: a somewhat affectionate way to say “boss”. Comes from the old tradition of adding -eng or -ing to ones name to make a nickname, e.g. Luciana - Lucing

Gago/gaga (ka): (you) idiot/moron - someone stupid, foolish or ignorant

Tikbalang: creature from Filipino mythology similar to a centaur. They are hulking beasts with a horse's head.

manong: a term for endearment to an elderly male relative, or elderly men in general. Originally an Ilokano term referring to the first born son in a nuclear family.

kuya: big brother. Can be used to refer to one's own older brother, someone else's older brother, or an older peer or male acquaintance.

II

Author’s Notes: This chapter was heavily inspired by Bita and the Botflies' song Manghuhula.

Warnings: brief scene of sexual harrassment

After washing up, the Twins accompanied you to the gate, exchanging glances at each other behind your back. Little did they know, you definitely noticed it.

“Wait,” Basilio says, tapping your shoulder lightly with a large hand.

Crispin takes his phone out of his pocket. His younger brother proceeds to do the same. “Give us your phone. We’ll add our numbers, and you can text us if something happens,” he says.

“Or when you get home safe,” Basilio adds.

You look at the two of them back and forth. “This isn’t just an elaborate excuse for the two of you to get my number, right?”

Neither of the two spoke, giving each other a nervous glance.

Their reaction made you laugh out loud, and you took out your phone from your bag. “Here. I’ll give you my Facespace too.”

With the tension broken, the three of you exchange a chuckle. You punch in your number in their phones, while they did the same to yours. Crispin looks over his brother’s shoulder and frowns.

“Epal,” Crispin says to his brother, snatching your phone away from him. The older twin types something in, and it’s the younger one’s turn to stick his nose in. Basilio attempts to get the phone back, cursing all the time.

“You’re going to break her phone, gago,” the older twin curses, pushing a palm against Basilio’s face. “Then let it go! You’re the epal, I wasn’t done yet,” the younger one snaps back.

You give them a look of irritation, and check out what they’re arguing about.

“What the hell are you two grown-ass men fighting about?” you ask as you butt in to look at what they’re doing.

A loud snort bubbles from you as you see it; Basilio added “the hot twin” next to his contact name. Crispin added “the hotter twin”. Now, the former wanted to outdo his older brother.

Against your better judgment, you say, “You’re twins. You look like each other. You’re both hot. Now stop fighting over my phone.”

Perhaps it’s the afternoon heat, but there is a tinge of red in their cheeks after your remark. You waved them goodbye as you got in a tricycle that’ll get you to the nearest train station.

The MRT, in some strange miraculous twist of fate, isn’t as packed as usual. It’s still populated, but there were a few seats waiting to be taken. You sit down somewhere away from direct sunlight, and you take out your phone to tell Hannah and Amie that you’re on the way home.

The first thing you see is a text from Basilio. Then, a text from Crispin. You tell them both that you’re on the train now, completely forgetting about messaging your roommates. To pass the time, you launch the Facespace app and decide to look up their profiles, only to find out that they’ve already sent you a friend request.

Upon seeing Crispin’s profile, you did your damn best to stifle a laugh.

His work description says “works at the Krusty Krab,” but that wasn’t the craziest thing about his profile. At first, the Bible verse in his bio caught you off guard, thinking that someone like him didn’t seem religious, but when you quickly looked up “Ezekiel 23:20,” you did your best not to howl with laughter.

Basilio’s isn’t any better.

In his work description, he put “Model at For Her Magazine,” and “edi sa puso mo.” Then you scroll down to see a thirst trap of him pulling his shirt up with his teeth, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks again. Well, at least that work description is believable.

They’re- what was that term your younger university friends were using again?- himbos.

They’re definitely himbos.

Arriving at your place, you slot your key inside the doorknob and twist. As you enter the door, the heavy, musky scent of sex and sweat hits your face, and you regret getting too wasted last night and losing your chance to hook up with one of the Twins.

Or both.

Both?

Regardless, at least they’ve invited you again to hang out next week.

You raise your eyebrow and cross your arms at the scene before you. Cans of beer litter the living room, and your roommates are taking a nap by the couch. A tikbalang comes out of the bathroom, glamor off, and you snort as you watch him duck under the door frame because of his massive height.

“It’s already four in the afternoon. Time to go, big guy.”

He nods awkwardly in acknowledgment, morphing into his human disguise, and exiting your apartment.

You sit between your roommates, rousing them from their sleep. “I’m not going to clean this mess up,” you tell them, motioning to the trashed state of the living room, and reaching for the remote to turn the TV on. You just want to take a shower afterwards and sleep in your own bed tonight.

After rubbing the sleep from their eyes, your roommates near-tackles you on the couch, a curious, excited look on their faces. You forgot all about what you were watching and stared at them in surprise.

“So how did it go? Did you get to hook up with any of them?” Amie asks.

“Or both of them?” Hannah adds.

“Gaga, nothing like that happened.”

The two of them let you go with disappointed looks on their faces. “So sayang! Here we were thinking you finally have a sex life,” one of them says as you lean back on the backrest, closing your eyes as they continue to pester you for details.

“Why are you two so determined to get me to screw someone?” you finally snapped, amused and irked at the same time.

“Because you’ve been doing nothing but totally stressing yourself out! See how super fun it is to let go every now and then?”

“Thanks for the new drinking buddies, girls, but I have my fingers to keep me company. Hookups are too much work,” you lie to them, eyes still closed.

“That’s a toe-curling, full-body orgasm you’re missing out on, girl!”

“That’s assuming that the person I’m with knows what they’re doing,” you retorted.

One of them pokes your side with an elbow, and you assume it’s Hannah. “The Twins do.”

You opened your eyes, and you guessed right; it’s Hannah. You give her a look, before rolling your eyes, appearing to look disinterested. The smirk tugging at the edge of your lips says otherwise, though.

“So what happened last night?” Amie asks.

“I got wasted and threw up on Basilio’s shoes. Then, I ended up sleeping in Crispin’s room. When I woke up, they fed me and sent me home,” you tell them. Your roommates giggle at the story.

“Ah, speaking of which, I gotta let them know I got home,” you said off-hand, and somehow the remark only spurred your wind people roommates on.

“Yieee, you’re friends with them on Facespace already!” Amie quips, leaning in to see what you’re typing. Playfully, you move your phone away from her to conceal what you’re typing.

“Make a group chat with them!” Hannah exclaims, taking your phone away from you. You tried taking it back, but Amie joins in the mischief and blocks you from doing so.

When you got your phone back, the deed was done, and the chat was renamed to a single eggplant emoji. The like button was replaced by an eggplant emoji too.

Panicking, you add your roommates to the group to avoid looking suspicious, and swiftly type up a defense.

“Please ignore that, Hannah made this chat using my account.”

The teasing never stopped after that.

Weeks passed and you never bothered to change it, though.

It’s been about two months since your first encounter with the Twins. You’re becoming a familiar face at The Diabolical, going every Saturday to see them. Sometimes Hannah and Amie didn’t accompany you anymore. You’ve met the Twins’ bossing a few times, who turned out to be none other than Alexandra Trese. You’ve heard of her exploits and the two imposing bodyguards who were almost always with her. It surprised you that they’re none other than the Twins you knew, but it made perfect sense. Those two were jacked, and those muscles aren’t only for show.

Of course, because of your increasing presence in the bar, it didn’t take long for the rumors to circulate. Word on the street is both of the Twins had a thing for you, and neither is making a move out of consideration for the other. They are waiting for you to move.

You elected to ignore them, perfectly happy with your arrangement of having two handsome men to keep you company while you unwind. The thought of getting together with one of them, or even both of them did cross your mind a few times, however.

Ultimately, you wouldn’t know what to do if the day comes that you’ll have to confront how you feel and choose between the two.

Do you have to?

Crispin and Basilio are twins, but they’re distinct from each other. The older is more serious, with a dryer sense of humor, while the younger is goofier, and somewhat softer. One complements the other, and they’re both good company despite their differences.

Speak of the devil. Your phone buzzes and you see that the eggplant chat is active. The Twins are inviting you to The Diabolical again.

“See you guys at eight,” you type in. Someone reacts with an eggplant to your message. Then the next few messages were nothing but eggplant emojis, followed by Basilio sending “#TeamTalong”. Crispin cusses him out for it, but sends the same message right after.

Yeah, that became a thing among the five of you.

You and the wind girls got dressed and took a taxi to the bar, your favorite jacket draped over your shoulders. Pressured by your roommates, you wore something nicer tonight; a black faux leather dress that hugs your figure deliciously. The shiny fabric added to the effect. The six bottles of Pulang Tikbalang beer the three of you shared before going out might’ve contributed to your newfound bravado.

But now that you’re actually wearing it outside your apartment, you feel a little reluctant.

“Maybe wearing this is a bad idea,” you mutter to no one in particular, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear out of self-consciousness.

Amie taps you from behind. “Oh hush, that outfit is totally sexy,” she comments. “Finally ready to get dicked down tonight, girl?”

“Shhh, gaga ka, manong driver can hear you.”

That didn’t deter them from making more inappropriate comments, much to the manong's ire.

It’s nine already when you get there, you’re in the Philippines after all. The merriment is already in full swing when you step through the door. Hannah and Amie went ahead and sat next to their lay of the week. The Twins wave you over from their usual spot, but before you can reach them, a man you’ve never seen before tries to get your attention, snaking an arm around your waist.

“Hey baby. You’re a regular here, right? Want to drink with me?”

“Sorry, I’m here with someone else,” you tell him, moving away.

“Ah, here to see the Twins? Why don’t you ditch them for a change of pace and come with me, babe?”

“Not interested,” you flat out said. “Please move, or I’ll make you move.”

To your surprise, the man drops his glamor and reveals himself to be a kapre. He looms over you, cigar in his mouth, and you can feel the tension rising. People are starting to stare, and your friends took notice of it too.

“Try,” he huffs, puffing smoke to your face. You give him a sour glare while trying not to cough.

Before your roommates or the Twins could come to your aid, you panicked and saw an empty bottle of Pulang Tikbalang on a nearby table. Emboldened by the alcohol in your veins, you shatter the bottle and point the jagged edge at the hulking beast, hands shaking. You are a tiny thing compared to the enormous creature before you, after all.

“Don’t you dare look down on me.”

“Already doing that, honey.”

“I’m not your honey,” you say as you press the edge against his stomach, not enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt.

“I love it when they fight back,” the kapre croons.

Under the haze of alcohol, you were more than ready to shove the edge in, consequences be damned.

Before things could escalate, Crispin takes the broken bottle off of your hands and steers you away from the stranger, while Basilio steps in to defuse the tension. “Hey, why don’t you back off, pal? Our friend said no. You wouldn’t want us to tell our bossing to ban you from the place because of this misunderstanding now, don’t you?”

Heart in your throat, you turn to the Twins, then to the kapre. The tree giant pauses, looking at the three of you, then smirks.

“Heh. Fine. But if you torpe whelps don’t make a move, I will.”

The giant puts his glamor back on and skulks away.

“Wow, what a jerk! He only left you alone when the boys stepped in,” Hannah quips, tossing her hair in indignation.

“You almost didn’t need rescuing, but I’d hate to help Hank mop the blood off the floor later,” Basilio comments, nudging you gently with an elbow. His eyes go a little lower from your face, and you see him look away.

You realized Crispin hasn’t let go of you yet.

“C’mon, let’s just go,” you tell everyone. Crispin proceeds to remove his hand away from your shoulder, and you take your usual seats by the bar.

The bar is loud, but the silence between the three of you is deafening. Even Hank seems to have taken notice, eyeing your usually loud and cheerful group.

“What’s up with you three? What happened back there?” the older man asks, leaning over the bar top.

“Just a handsy kapre who couldn’t take no for an answer. I won’t let it spoil the night,” you answer him.

“That’s the spirit. Holler if he tries something like that again, I’ll have him kicked out,” Hank replies, setting down three ice-cold beers in front of you guys.

Yet somehow, the conversation never livened up.

Three bottles of Pulang Tikbalang later, you’ve had enough.

“This is about what that kapre said, isn’t it?” you finally say, slightly pissed.

The Twins look at each other with guilty expressions, and simultaneously nod.

“Do you boys wanna talk about it?”

They look at each other again. “Shit, this is awkward,” Crispin comments, scratching his head. Basilio nods in agreement, uncharacteristically silent. “We didn’t want to pressure you into anything you didn’t want to do,” the older twin continues.

“Look, I don’t want to ruin my relationship with my kuya just because we’re interested in the same girl,” Basilio says. “Same here,” Crispin adds.

“So we were waiting for you to make your own move,” Basilio continues.

“Ah. So the rumors are true,” you sighed.

“We’ll accept whatever outcome there is. If you choose me, or Basilio, or neither because this is fucking messy, we totally get it,” the older twin says, leaning back to stare at the ceiling.

Now the decision rests in your hands.

“Why don’t we talk about this somewhere more private?” you ask them.

You watch as both of them gulp. “Where do you wanna talk?” Basilio asks.

“Anywhere private.”

“I just cleaned my room earlier. Why don’t we continue this there?”

You nod, and they lead you away from the bar.

Looks like it’s going to be a long night.

Translations for non-Filipino speakers:

epal: in Filipino slang, usually refers to a person who inappropriately presents himself in a situation or butts into a conversation.

kapre: a tree-giant from Filipino mythology. Often described as very tall, dark, and hairy. Almost never seen without a cigar.

sayang: literally means waste. Can be used alone as an expression similar to "what a waste!"

torpe: someone who cannot spit their romantic or sexual feelings out to a crush or love interest

III

Author’s Notes:

Warnings: Smut. Filthy smut. Writer-is-definitely-going-to-the-second-circle-of-the-Seven-Circles-of-Hell-levels-of-filthy smut. Bawal bata, tulog na. If you're under 18 please turn back.

After the door closes behind the three of you, you sit on the bed, while Crispin sits on a chair near his brother’s desk. Basilio locks the door, and leans against it, unable to look at you.

“Right. So. How are we going to deal with this?” you ask them, crossing your legs.

“Don’t ask us,” Crispin says, swiveling the chair to face you. “You’re the one caught in the middle after all.”

Curse his choice of words.

“This is too weird,” Basilio speaks up. “If you want me to unlock the door, just say the word. We can walk out of this like nothing happened.”

“And then what? Things are going to be awkward between the three of us, I just know it,” you say to him, palming the back of your neck. “Things might get awkward with Amie and Hannah too, and I live with them. I don’t want our tropa to disband just because of relationship drama.”

“What about Amie and Hannah? Is it because we have history with those two?” Crispin asks.

“They’ve been trying to set me up with either of you. The fact that they also slept with you in the past also doesn’t help. Shit, this is messy.”

“Er, um,” Basilio stutters. “That might’ve been our fault.”

You furrow your brow and cross your arms. “Keep going.”

The Twins look at each other, as if gauging who should explain the situation. “So, we remained in contact after being used as a prize for bossing’s race with Maliksi, right?” Crispin starts.

“Uh huh.”

“Well, they mentioned a third roommate in passing and joked about lending us to her. Of course we blew them off, then Amie showed us a picture of you. We got curious and asked them to introduce you,” Basilio continues.

“I didn’t expect us five to become friends. And now we’re in this mess,” Crispin adds.

You look at them back and forth, and laugh in resignation. Elbows digging against your lap and palms pressed against your face, you rub your face and run it through your hair. “Amazing. Just amazing. See, I have a problem too.”

The Twins didn’t respond, eyes fixated on you.

“I like the two of you.”

You feel the air shift around you. Basilio’s standing upright by the door now, and Crispin straightened up too. The room is so quiet, you can hear them gulp in anticipation for what will happen next.

“There. I said it. The reason why I haven’t made a move at all is because of this exact moment that I was dreading. I didn’t want to choose,” you admit, feeling the blood rush to your head. “I just wanted for us three to stay like that, drinking buddies sprinkled with sexual tension.”

“And you’re in the middle, enjoying our attention,” Crispin says, crossing his arms.

“Selfish, I know,” you admit, head hanging low.

This is it, the moment that can make or break you three.

“Us three. If only...” you whisper, only for the words to fall flat on your tongue

You stand up, gathering your things and carrying your bag. “Nevermind. What a mess we’re in. I’ll go so you two can sort things out between the two of you. It’s been a fun ride.”

Basilio doesn’t move from the door, and behind you, you can hear Crispin getting up from his seat.

“We can still make this work, right kuya?” Basilio starts, looking over your head to give his brother a knowing look.

“Yeah, I think so,” Crispin replies. “What was that you said? The three of us?”

Your eyes widen, and you look at them back and forth. Their bodies are dangerously close to yours. Now you’re literally caught in the middle.

“I- uh…”

“I think we can work out an arrangement,” Basilio whispers, one hand moving to hold yours.

“Only if you want to,” Crispin adds, his breath kissing the back of your neck.

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” Basilio adds.

“Same here.”

Damn it all.

Giving in to your darkest, most hidden desires, you lean in to capture Basilio’s lips with yours, leaving his black eyes wide open in surprise. They flutter close, and he savors the kiss, slipping a tongue in. Then you turn to Crispin, and you give him the same sweet kiss as well.

“Damn, I didn’t mean like, now,” Basilio mutters, feeling the front of his trousers get tighter as he watches you make out with his brother.

Bringing your attention back to the younger twin, you loosen his tie, while you push out your ass to grind against Crispin. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all.”

“Wait, are you sure about this? All of us drank tonight… we don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” Crispin says, moving his hips away from you. Basilio pauses too, and wraps his hands around your wrists to still your hands, a look of concern on his face.

“Kuya’s right.”

“I’m a grown woman. I might’ve had a few bottles, but I know what I want,” you reassure them, waiting for the two to make a move. “I know I want you two for months.”

Basilio lets go of your hands and lets you do as you please, a cocky smirk on his lips. Behind you, you can feel Crispin’s gloved hands reaching for the zipper of your dress. “Really? How much do you want us? C’mon, say it,” Basilio asks, moving in to place kisses on your neck.

“I wanna hear it too,” Crispin whispers against your shoulder, and he punctuates it with a light kiss.

All of a sudden, you felt shy at the prospect of confessing your fantasies out loud. “Why don’t I just show you boys?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one,” Basilio teases. “Consider it as payback for throwing up all over my shoes.”

“You’re still- ah!- mad about that?” you ask him, gasping in the middle of doing so when you felt a hand snake between your legs from behind. The older twin slips his fingers past your underwear, circling your clit with slow strokes.

“Not mad, I just want things to be fair,” Basilio teases, pulling your dress down. He gives your breasts a squeeze, fondling and rolling your nipples until they harden, and he seals his lips over your right one. Crispin moves from behind you and he takes his place next to his twin, lathing his tongue over the left. All four of their hands pawed at your flesh greedily.

You were at a loss for words because of how good they’re making you feel, soft moans bubbling from your throat.

“Speechless already, huh?” Crispin mumbles against your skin.

“Ngh! The wind girls weren’t lying, you two know what you’re doing,” you gasped, face flushed as you watched the Twins lavish their attention on your breasts.

“Shhh, stop changing the subject. Play along, or neither of us will make you cum,” he adds, pausing to give you a teasing lick, and resting his tongue on top of the hardened bud. On the other hand, Basilio is sucking like a starved babe while squeezing your still clothed behind.

You fake a scoff of indignation and grin. “Fine. I- oh fuck- want you two so much, I’ve been fantasizing for weeks.”

Basilio pauses to address you. “Describe them.”

You’re a little mortified, but the alcohol in your system pushes you to be bolder. “I imagined Basilio punishing me for ruining his shoes.”

“And how did he do that?” Crispin’s voice.

“He asked me to suck him off,” you start, and a pinch on your bottom from the subject of your fantasy tells you that he wanted to hear more details. “He fucked my face while pulling my hair and told me how good I was the whole time and that he forgave me.”

“What about me? What fantasies did you have?” Crispin asks again.

Your breath hitched in your throat but you pushed on. “Hearing how you scolded Basilio, I imagined you taking me from behind and saying the meanest, dirtiest things possible.”

The Twins looked at each other, and stopped, their lips leaving your breasts with a lewd pop. “You want to make them all come true?” Basilio asks.

Cheeks burning, you give them a curt nod.

The two of them lead you to the bed, where Crispin puts you on all fours, and he takes his place from behind. On the other hand, Basilio is standing near the edge of the bed, the bulge in his pants inches away from your face. You stare at it, licking your lips.

As you undid Basilio’s pants, he shrugs off his suit jacket and takes off his tie, then he takes off his dress shirt, revealing his abs and the trail of dark hair on his lower abdomen, disappearing into his briefs. From behind, you hear fabric shifting, then Crispin peels your panties off of you. He brings a gloved hand against your skin in a loud smack, making you cry out.

“Ah, wait, we need a safeword,” Crispin mentions, soothingly squeezing your skin.

“What about Eternos?” Basilio suggests, and Crispin cocks an eyebrow. “Wait, you mean, like the game?”

You stifle a laugh. “I’m fine with it,” you say to them, and they take it as a signal to continue.

The older twin dips a gloved finger between your folds, gathering your wetness, and tsked. “Look at you, already so fucking wet. You want this so much, huh?”

You nod frantically, then Basilio stills your head. “Open your mouth, baby. Tongue out.”

You oblige, and Basilio fishes his cock out of his briefs. Your eyes grow wider as you take in the sight of it; girthy, with a nice length, and a few veins running on the underside. You wonder if Crispin’s is the same. The twin in front of you lightly smacks his member against your tongue, and you proceed to lick it, running from the base to the tip, slicking it with saliva. You swirl your tongue around it, then try to slide it in your mouth as smoothly as possible.

As Basilio begins to breathe harder with each bob of your head, Crispin pulls your ass towards his face, and a choked moan escapes your lips as you feel his mouth on your heat, toying with your folds before he finally finds that sensitive nub. The older twin proceeds to lick and suck at it, eating you out like you’re the best damn meal of his life.

Meanwhile, you push a palm against Basilio’s thigh to make him pause, and before he can ask you if you’re fine, you take his balls in your mouth and fondle him with your tongue. Your hand pumps his neglected cock as you did so.

“Shit! Your mouth feels so damn good,” he hisses, breathing hard. When you take his dick back into your mouth, Basilio gathers your hair and uses it as a handle, watching his length disappear in your mouth over and over, his black eyes hazy with lust and his mouth whispering words of praise.

Crispin looks at his brother with a hint of envy, cock painfully hard against his trousers. He unzips it for relief, and proceeds to stroke himself as he continues to prepare you.

“Hey, Basilio, got any lube?”

“Um, there’s- ungh- a bottle of it under the pillow.”

“...you keep lube under your pillow? What the- and condoms? Can’t you put them in your drawers or something?”

Basilio doesn’t give his brother a response and focuses his attention on you. You gasp against his cock as you felt a cold, gloved hand prod against your asshole, and goosebumps formed on your flesh as you felt the cold lubricant smearing against your entrance. Crispin pushes his lubed thumb in, and you cry out in pleasure, your jaw opening wider for Basilio to claim. Then, two more fingers prod at your pussy, and you swear you can see stars as they slid in. The older twin toys with you while eating you out, and you feel a knot forming at the base of your stomach, threatening to uncoil at any moment.

You couldn’t take it. Basilio’s cock slides out of your mouth and you look over your shoulder, moaning and panting.

Crispin pauses from eating you out to ask you a question. “You’re gonna cum? You wanna cum on my fingers like the filthy slut you are?”

“Yes, please, please, let me cum,” you begged, and with a devilish smirk, Crispin dives right back in to finish the job.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure inside you exploded, shameless moans coming from your throat as your first orgasm hits you. Basilio watches the look of pleasure on your face as Crispin makes you cum, making his cock twitch.

“Now that’s how you please a woman,” Crispin teases, shooting his brother a challenging look while wiping your juices off of his face.

“Wait until it’s my turn,” Basilio replies, smirking.

Panting, legs wobbling, you didn’t get to rest as Crispin takes his cock and slides it in you. In front of you, Basilio cups your face and directs you back to his cock, smirking. “You’re doing so well, baby. You’re taking us like a champ, you know that?”

“Fuck,” Crispin hisses from behind you. “You like this, you little slut? You like being fucked by two cocks at the same time?” he asks you, each word punctuated with a hard thrust.

Now you’re really caught in the middle.

Basilio’s panting heavily now, his thrusts becoming erratic against your mouth. You know he’s close, and you brace yourself for what’s coming. Eyes screwed shut, he lets out a low groan as he spills inside of your mouth, his cum painting your tongue white. You try to swallow it all, but a few stray drops dribble down your chin. The younger twin cleans you up, and kisses you deeply, not minding his taste on your mouth. He sits on the bed to catch his breath, and allows you to rest on his thighs.

Behind you, Crispin begins to rut faster, his thumb still in your ass as he pounded you. You writhe and cry against Basilio’s lap, bracing yourself from each harsh thrust. The younger twin pets your hair, but he moves his hand away when Crispin pushes your head against his brother’s lap.

“Take it all of it,” Crispin groans. “Ungh, you make me so horny, you little slut.”

Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Basilio gets an idea.

“Hey, kuya. Hold her up.”

Crispin blinks before obliging his brother’s request, clamping a hand around your throat. “Is this fine?” he asks you, and you nod a few times. He tightens his hold and pulls you to his toned chest, your hair sticking to his skin from your sweat. Basilio kisses you, then latches on one of your breasts. One gloved hand fondles and pulls at your nipples, while the other moves south to stroke you.

“Ah! I think I’m gonna cum again…” you choked, face red and tears forming at the edge of your eyes.

“Say our names,” Crispin whispers against your ear in a low growl.

You mutter their names at first, but it turns to full blown cries as your climax fast approaches.

“Crispin! Basilio!”

It hits you so hard, your eyes roll to the back of your head. You cried shamelessly, and Crispin places a kiss on your open mouth, tongue slipping in and teeth clashing with yours. He pulls out and finishes on your back, cock resting between the valley of your cheeks, still half-hard.

The Twins move to clean you up, looking around for tissues and anything to wipe you with.

“So,” Basilio says. “One more round?”

Your eyes widen, and you look down to see that Basilio is hard again.

“How- what the fuck? What are you two?”

Crispin sighs. “Hannah and Amie never told you? We’re demigods.”

“We don’t get sick and our injuries heal really fast. Talagbusao is our dad,” Basilio adds, and you give him a disbelieving glare.

“You didn’t need to let that last detail slip out, gago,” Crispin berates him as he pulls you close to his muscular chest. He lay down on a pillow, one arm propping his head up.

After a few seconds of silence, you say something. “At least let me have some water first.”

“Right.”

The Twins stare at each other.

“One of us has to fetch it,” Crispin says.

“What? Why me?” Basilio complains, scratching his head.

“Because I’m older, and I’ve worked hard to give her two orgasms in a row.”

“Hey! I’m sure that last one was thanks to me.”

You groan, grabbing a pillow to cover your face. “Ugh, please don’t turn this into a competition about who made me cum the most. Just get me my water, pretty please, Basilio?”

At the request, Basilio smiles and dresses haphazardly to get it for you. “Don’t start without me.”

You close your eyes with a smile. Crispin buries his face against your hair and plays with it. “You have him wrapped around your finger, you know?”

You chuckle at the remark, and Crispin kisses your temple. “Just don’t hurt my little brother.”

“I have no intention of hurting either of you,” you tell him.

Basilio comes back with a pitcher and some glasses, and once everyone’s hydrated and ready, the night continues.

The Twins spoil you with their attention, hands roaming your body as they planted kisses on your skin. Basilio sucks on your collarbone, biting experimentally and leaving marks that would darken in the morning, which draws a whine from your throat. Not wanting to be outdone, Crispin kisses your back, then the back of your neck, and he found a sweet spot that made you moan at that place where your ear connects to your neck. Basilio observes this and does the same to the other side.

“Hey, um, can I do it in your ass?” Crispin whispers in your ear, almost sheepishly, and you stare at him for a few seconds before nodding.

“Sure. Be gentle. And use a condom.”

“Of course. You go on top. What’s our safeword again?” he asks you, testing your knowledge.

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Eternos.”

“Good girl,” Basilio says.

Flipping yourself around, you lean into Crispin’s lap. “Here, let me help,” you say as you grasp his cock and start to pump. The younger twin behind you reaches for the lube and prepares your ass. You sigh with pleasure as you feel the cold sensation of the product on your skin. Crispin sighs as you slide his length between your lips, head bobbing up and down, and you feel him grow inside your mouth. You give the tip a small lick before doing the same thing you did to Basilio, cupping his balls with your mouth and fondling them with your tongue.

“I want you now,” Crispin rasps, tugging your hair to get you off of him.

You smirk, turning around to give him a great view of your ass. He reaches around for a condom, finds one, and tears the foil open. After sliding the rubber down his shaft, he positions himself against your hole, pressing against the tight ring of muscle. You wince in pain as he starts penetrating you, prompting him to squeeze more lube to relieve your discomfort.

“Relax,” Basilio instructs you, planting soothing kisses at your jaw. You did as he said and unclenched your muscles, entrusting yourself to the two of them.

As Crispin pushes past the ring of muscle, you sigh in relief, discomfort replaced with the feeling of fullness. You lean back into his hard chest, a soft sigh leaving your lips as he starts to move. Meanwhile, Basilio kneels between your legs, rubbing your clit with the head of his dripping cock, but he freezes before he slides it in.

“What?” you ask with concern.

“We’re out of condoms.”

“Just pull out,” you tell him with a strained voice, gasping as Crispin moves inside you.

“No, you don’t understand. We’re demigods. Our… um.. Yeah, we’re really potent.”

You smirk at him. “I’ll ask the girls for something in the morning,” you say against your better judgment. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Cum all over me.”

His cock twitches at your last suggestion.

“Ugh, Basilio, you’re really killing the mood here,” Crispin strains to say, holding you gently by the neck. “I pulled out too, remember? Make up your mind already. I wouldn’t mind having her to myself for now, though.”

“Not a chance,” Basilio retorts, sliding the tip of his cock past your folds and pushing inside.

A loud cry rips from your throat at the sensations, feeling stuffed to the maximum as two cocks start to pump inside you. Crispin’s grip on your neck tightens, while you tangle your hands through Basilio’s hair, pulling him closer and kissing him.

Soon, The Twins find a steady rhythm, syncing their movement so you can feel the full force of their thrusts. Basilio throws one of your legs over his shoulder and begins to massage your clit with his thumb, while Crispin fondles your breasts with his free hand, using the tip of his fingers to roll, squeeze, and pull at your nubs. With every thrust they give, you clench, drawing a groan from both of them as they felt themselves being squeezed by your muscles.

“Oh God,” you whine. “Fuck, you both feel so good.”

“Say our names,” Basilio growls, and you oblige.

You chant their names like a prayer, underscored by the slapping of skin as the Twins fucked both of your holes. Hearing their names only spurred them on, and their movements became more desperate, sweat rolling off of your bodies.

“Basilio! Crispin!”

Underneath you, Crispin gropes at your breast harder, beads of sweat rolling off of his forehead and dripping to your skin. “Your ass feels too good, I’m gonna cum,” he hissed between clenched teeth, and you silently thank Bathala that he’s near his limit. The lube is starting to wash off.

With a few more rough thrusts, he cums, shooting inside the rubber. Crispin cups your jaw and kisses you, deep and sweet, tasting your tongue. You’re on the verge of climax now too, and you give Basilio a desperate look. He understood what you meant.

The younger twin thrusts harder and faster while still rubbing that sensitive nub between your legs furiously, and the older one helps by stimulating your nipples once again. The bombardment of sensation is too much, and you feel white hot heat racing through your body as you cum one last time, voice hoarse as a throaty moan escapes past your open mouth.

The spasm of your muscles is enough to send Basilio over the edge too, pulling out of you and spilling his load all over the mound of your pussy, and your stomach. You feel Crispin slip out of you too. Basilio leans in to kiss you, almost tenderly, but still full of desperation, tongue and teeth.

After a quick cleanup and another drink of water, the three of you lay in a heap of limbs, exhausted. Crispin doesn’t shift at all, content on letting you lie next to him, while Basilio moves next to you, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them on the narrow bed.

Everyone is sated, and with your eyes growing heavy, you wanted nothing but sleep.

“So, who’s better?”

You don’t know who said it, but you raised your hand to give him a middle finger. “Tangina niyo, you’re both good. End of discussion. Now please let me sleep.”

Thank Bathala that they did.

The next morning, all three of you wake up sweaty, stinking, and really, really hungry.

“Good morning to you two,” you sigh, snaking your arms around theirs. Each of them gave you a kiss on your temple. “Damn, I’m starving,” you said, sitting up. “Let’s take a shower and grab something to e-”

Underneath the three of you, the bed’s legs give out, and a loud thud can be heard throughout the house. As you three scramble for purchase, frantic footsteps are approaching, and the door bursts open.

“What was that? Crispin is missing from his room and-” Hank blurts, toting his good ol’ triple barrel shotgun "Ama, Anak, at, Espiritu Santo". Funnily enough, when he sees the tangle of limbs before him, he utters the same words and quickly turns away. Alexandra arrives shortly after, gives them a quick glance, and shuts the door.

Breakfast with their bossing is filled with a mortifying quiet.

You barely touch your food, embarrassment burning your cheeks, and you shoot a glance at your twin lovers.

“Next time, lock the door,” Alex finally says, getting up from the table with a coffee in her hands. She’s too fucking exhausted to deal with this.

“It’s Basilio’s fault!” Crispin yells after her. Basilio made no attempts to defend himself, knowing that he forgot to lock the door again after he came back with the water.

Grumbling, you finally take a bite of your breakfast, jacket draped over your shoulders despite the heat to hide the bruises on your body. “The girls are gonna have a field day when they see me like this.”

“I need to replace the bed,” Basilio mumbles, stuffing his mouth with rice.

The three of you looked at each other, and laughed.

“So, see you next week?” Crispin asks with a smile, and Basilio gives you a pleading, doe-eyed look.

“Yeah. See you two next week.”

Translations for non-English speakers:

tropa: ground of friends. People you chill with

tangina niyo: Filipino profanity. Roughly translates to "you sons of bitches"

Ama, Anak, at Espiritu Santo: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It’s Hank’s weapon’s actual name in the comics.

[cosmicbrowniefan]

the better eddie

fandom/ship: crossover it x stranger things, reddie with background steddie and elmax

summary: when richie joins the hellfire club, eddie kaspbrak can’t help but wonder why he’s so bothered by this. especially why he’s so bothered by richie’s budding friendship with eddie munson.

genre: one-shot, fluff, minimal angst, high school au, crossover

warnings: swearing, smoking, brief mentions of vomit, jealousy, aged-up losers (15), intentional lowercase

word count: 3,189

eddie kaspbrak couldn’t help but glare across the lunch table as he picked at his inedible school food. 

does this kid ever shut up? he thought to himself, as eddie munson yelled something crude across the cafeteria to the basketball team, making everyone at the lunch table crack up, but especially richie.

eddie kaspbrak couldn’t quite explain why he hated eddie munson so much. since getting to high school, richie, his twin brother mike, and many of their other friends had joined the hellfire club, a group for d&d. eddie wasn’t a d&d person himself, but out of their entire friend group, only him, mike hanlon, max, and el didn’t play. granted, some of the group members didn’t understand what they were doing, but they played nonetheless. eddie, however, really didn’t understand the hype over the game. plus, he really didn’t want to spend any more time with eddie munson than he did already.

eddie munson was a stoner. he had been held back god knows how many times and it didn’t seem like this year was going to be any more successful for him. he was loud, annoying, and grunge. he wasn’t the type of loud, annoying, yet somehow charismatic that richie was. he just pissed people off.

“FUCK YEAH, GIVE IT HERE!”

eddie was suddenly shook out of his thoughts by richie shouting and reaching for a lunch tray in the middle of the table, which had 7 chocolate milks on it.

“dude, you’re gonna puke!”

“i need my strength for the campaign tonight!” richie insisted with a laugh. he immediately started opening the chocolate milks and chugging them. eddie, not in the mood for this crowd anymore, rolled his eyes and got up from the table, going to dump his tray. after he was done getting rid of his uneaten slop, he made a beeline for the bathroom and locked himself in one of the stalls.

a few minutes later, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, but eddie couldn’t care less. maybe if he stayed in the stall long enough, the combined smell of weed and shit would be enough to send him home sick. before he could think any more about that plan, however, the door banged open and two familiar voices echoed.

“dude, her class is a fucking buzzkill, i know.”

eddie groaned internally. it was eddie munson.

“listen, when you go to her class high for the first time, you’ll never want to go sober again,” he insisted. the other voice laughed before speaking.

“i never wanted to go to her class sober in the first place, i just didn’t have a hookup on school grounds.”

it was richie. eddie sighed and unlocked the door to the stall. as much as he didn’t want to see them, he didn’t want to smell pot more.

“well, look who it is!” eddie munson called out as eddie kaspbrak came out of the stall. “we were just about to light up, want to join in, little fella?”

“no,” eddie mumbled, shoving past without looking at either of them.

“eds!” richie said. “don’t go yet!”

eddie stopped right at the door and turned around, rolling his eyes and hating himself for loving this boy so much.

“that’s not my name,” he said. “and what do you want?”

“jesus christ, someone’s a little testy today,” eddie munson muttered, but eddie kaspbrak ignored him.

“he’s always like that,” richie said, continuing to stare at eddie kaspbrak with a loving grin. “anyway, eds. you should come to the campaign tonight.”

“no way,” eddie said, immediately turning back around. richie tried to get him to do this EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. but it never worked. as much as eddie wanted to spend time with richie, he could not stand being around eddie munson for that long, watching his friends play some long and boring game that he didn’t even understand.

“aw, come on, eds!” richie insisted. “you can shadow me! i’ll teach you everything i know,” he added with a wink.

eddie, however, refused to turn back around. “i’ll think about it,” he mumbled, pushing the door open and heading to his next class.

eddie hated the thought of spending his night like that. but he hated the thought of richie spending that much time with eddie munson without him there even more. maybe it was stupid, but eddie had this burning need to be the better eddie in richie’s life. i mean, the two had been best friends for forever. what did this loud-ass have that eddie didn’t? eddie had always hoped that he and richie would one day end up together, even if it was kind of a stupid thought. but that didn’t seem very likely, seeing as richie couldn’t keep his eyes off of eddie munson. 

eddie kaspbrak had to drag himself through the rest of the school day. it was painfully slow and boring. even though eddie would never touch a joint (does richie even know the risk those things carry?), he couldn’t help but finding himself wishing that he wasn’t entirely in reality right now, either.

after school, eddie trudged home with stan. eddie liked stan. stan played d&d, but he certainly didn’t make it his whole personality. and, since he knew that eddie wasn’t a fan of the game, he just made conversation about other things. this was the one time, however, that eddie wouldn’t have minded talking about d&d. not because he liked the game, but because he couldn’t get this shit off his mind.

“what does munson have that i don’t?” eddie blurted out suddenly, interrupting stan’s story about him walking in on will and mike w. making out in the computer lab.

“uh, what?” stan said, confused. he knew eddie liked richie. he had heard it a thousand times. but eddie NEVER talked about eddie munson.

“what the FUCK does eddie munson have that i don’t?” he repeated, exasperated. “or- well- what does he have that richie is so attached to?”

“oh, uh,” stan started. he didn’t really know what to say. “well, he smokes and he plays d&d and he doesn’t give a fuck about anything,” he said. “he’s basically adopted richie at this point, richie really looks up to him.”

eddie groaned.

“why the fuck am i in love with this idiot?” he asked, looking down and kicking a rock on the pavement.

“that question is beyond me, eddie,” stan said. “i ask myself that every day.” he paused. “are you really jealous of eddie munson? because i guarantee you richie sees him as an older brother. i mean, for fuck’s sake, he’s like 20 at this point. even if richie DID like him, eddie’s not a creep, so he’s not gonna go for a 15-year old.”

eddie stayed quiet and kicked the rock again as he walked along.

“i’m not gonna smoke pot,” he said.

“no one ever said you had to.”

“let me finish.” eddie took a breath, ready for the criticism that was no doubt about to come out of stan’s mouth. “i’m not gonna smoke pot, but maybe i can learn to like your stupid game for him.”

“i’m sorry, WHAT?” stan said, raising an eyebrow. “you HATE d&d, you always say how boring and confusing it is.”

“well yeah, but it’s what richie likes, and i’m not gonna keep fucking sit at home every friday and think about all the time he’s spending with munson and not me,” eddie argued. “maybe i can find some grunge shit to wear too, i don’t know,” he added.

stan rolled his eyes.

“whatever, dude,” he said. “just don’t call me complaining about how you wasted your night playing with us.”

it turned out that eddie didn’t really have anything grunge to wear. he scoured his closet and drawers, but the closest he had was a pair of black skinny jeans and a black and white striped shirt. whatever. it would have to do.

“hey!”

bev’s cheery voice picked up on the other line as eddie set the phone on speaker and got dressed.

“bev, what the fuck am i doing?” eddie groaned, flopping back on his bed after zipping up his jeans.

“i would ask what you’re referring to, but stan kinda told me everything,” bev admitted. “and before you get mad at him, he only said something because he was trying to help and wanted to see if i could- well- reign you in, i guess.”

“reign me in? really?” eddie rolled over and screamed into his pillow. “i knew i should’ve called max instead.”

“okay, rude,” bev said, pretending to be offended. “but really, eddie, you don’t need to change anything. if richie likes you, and i think he does, he’ll like you for YOU, not this persona you’re putting on.”

“can i just borrow some eyeliner?” eddie interrupted, not even processing what bev had said. “please?”

bev sighed.

“fine,” she said. “but i’m coming over and putting it on for you, because god knows you can’t do it by yourself.”

about twenty minutes later, bev, ben, mike hanlon, max, and el burst into eddie’s room. even though mike, max, and el didn’t play, they always went to campaigns to hang out with their friends, unlike eddie.

“what the fuck?” eddie said when he saw them all. “bev, did you seriously tell all of them?”

“no, you just called me when they were all over,” she said. “here, sit up.”

eddie sat up half-heartedly and let bev put the eyeliner on him.

“is this really your attempt at grunge?” max said, raising an eyebrow.

“shut up, i’m working with what i’ve got,” eddie snapped back.

“eddie, i know you kind of have a plan here, but i really think bev’s right,” ben said slowly. “richie will like you for YOU.”

“okay, then he’ll have no problem with me making my own choices and wearing this and playing your stupid game,” eddie said.

“that’s not really what i was getting at,” ben mumbled.

“i think richie does like you. for you,” el stated matter-of-factly. “you are just being a stupid boy.”

“hell yeah, he is,” max said, pecking her girlfriend on the cheek.

“i can’t believe you’re going to the dark side, eddie,” mike said. “now i have to third wheel with el and max as the only people there who don’t play.”

“hey, steve doesn’t play either,” eddie said pointedly. steve was one of eddie munson’s and dustin’s friends. he didn’t play either, but he always tagged along to the campaigns for whatever reason.

“okay, he may not play, but he’s constantly coaching over dustin’s shoulder as if he does, so steve doesn’t really count.”

“done,” said bev. she closed the cap of her eyeliner. “you look hot.”

“i know,” eddie said. “let’s go.”

the group of six headed out the door and to the school for the campaign. eddie didn’t know what he was getting into, really, but at least he looked good while doing it.

mike pushed open the doors when they arrived. everyone else was already there. eddie munson was talking to steve in a low voice and pointing to some things behind his divider. steve looked like he was trying very hard to understand what was going on. mike w., dustin, lucas, will, richie, bill, and stan were in a corner, also talking in low voices. mike and richie seemed to be arguing about something, as per usual. they all turned towards the door when the remaining six walked in. at the sight of eddie, richie fell backwards out of his chair.

“holy shit!” he yelled, sitting up amongst the laughter. “you’re here!”

“don’t make a big deal out of it,” eddie said. but he was feeling pretty confident at the reaction he had just elicited from richie. and he was feeling extra confident at the fact that richie was scanning his eyes up and down eddie’s body.

“what are you wearing?” richie asked, as mike h., el, max, bev, and ben went to join the others. “not that i don’t like it!” he added hurriedly. “it just- it doesn’t seem like you.”

“i’m just trying something new,” eddie said innocently. “now, come on, are we gonna play, or not?”

richie opened his mouth to say something, but eddie munson spoke first.

“kaspbrak, you in?” he said incredulously. “holy shit, i never thought i’d live to see the day.”

“yes, i’m in,” eddie said, louder than he meant for it to come out. “i want to learn. richie, i’ll shadow you. let’s go.”

richie quickly pulled up another chair for eddie and the two sat down. eddie tried hard to pay attention to everything richie was whispering to him, but it made absolutely no sense. did this game even have rules? it just sounded like you made up everything as you went. every time eddie tried to ask a question, richie just had some long-winded response, and he kept leaning over him to discuss with the others, and to argue with his brother, of course. eddie understood less about d&d now than he did before, and that was certainly saying something. not only was he incredibly confused by the game, but eddie munson kept doing all these annoying voices, each making richie laugh more than the last. how the fuck could he stand this kid? finally, after 2 1/2 hours and no end in sight, eddie couldn’t take it anymore.

“i hate to step out now, guys, but my mom wanted me home by 9:30 and i’m already gonna be late,” he lied.

“what? booo!” richie groaned. “come on, you can’t leave now!”

“nah, i really gotta get home,” eddie insisted. he stood up and pulled on his jacket.

“well, kaspbrak, it’s been a pleasure,” eddie munson called after him as he headed for the door. “i would say see you next time, but i could see the boredom on your face, so i think i’ll just see you at lunch.” eddie kaspbrak clenched his teeth and didn’t acknowledge him whatsoever.

what was i thinking? eddie thought, shaking his head as he trudged home. stan was right, i hate this game and i hate these clothes and i really should’ve just stayed home. it was bad enough that he had wasted his night playing a game he didn’t understand, but he would’ve so much rather stayed home and wondered about richie and eddie than been there and seen the heart eyes richie kept making at him. stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stu-

“eds!”

eddie stopped and turned around. richie was jogging after him. “wait up!”

“what is it, richie?” eddie asked. “i’m serious, i need to be home.”

“that’s bullshit,” richie said, catching up and grinning. “your mom wants you home at 9 every night and you know it. you were already late.”

eddie turned red. why the fuck did richie know when he was supposed to be home?

“all the more reason i need to get home,” eddie said, turning around and continuing in the direction of his house.

“wait, eds, come on.” richie reached out and tugged on eddie’s jacket. “where are you running off to? i really thought you were starting to get the hang of it.”

“starting to get the hang of it?” eddie exploded. richie looked taken aback, but eddie couldn’t help it. he had had enough. “starting to get the hang of it, richie? are you kidding me? i didn’t know what the fuck i was doing. i just spent my night playing a game i hate with someone i can’t stand. i get it less now than i did before! and i dressed in these stupid clothes because i thought that MAYBE that would mean you’d pay attention to me again, instead of making heart eyes at stupid eddie senior over there. you’re my best friend and i spent my night MISERABLE because i just wanted to fucking do something you liked and try and get you back from your new fucking boyfriend. and i know i sound like an idiot and this was all my fault, but it’s so much easier to just yell at you for it. so go finish your stupid game and go make out with your boyfriend, and i’m going to go home and get yelled at by my mother for being out all night having the worst. day. of. my. LIFE! so sorry if i’m ‘running off’, but i’m tired and i’m bored and i want to go HOME!”

richie was silent for a moment.

“eds,” he said quietly, “eddie munson is dating steve harrington.”

eddie fell silent. his eyes went wide and his face turned beet red, and he collapsed onto the pavement, head in his hands.

“oh my god,” he whispered. “oh my GOD, i’m so fucking STUPID.”

richie sat down next to eddie quietly.

“why on earth do you care so much about munson?” he asked, after a moment.

“because,” eddie said, “i thought he was, you know, stealing you from me, i guess.” he cleared his throat. “and i’m selfish. and i want to-”

“yeah?”

“i- i want to date you,” eddie choked out. “and i want to be the only one to date you. and i hated the idea of anyone else being with you.” he sniffed. “and it’s really fucking stupid but i wanted to be the best eddie in your life.”

richie smiled. he reached over and tilted eddie’s chin towards him.

“you are the best eddie in my life,” he said. “and the best eds, and the best spaghetti. and you don’t have to play a game you hate or dress in clothes you don’t like for me to like you, because- well, because i do like you. just as you are.”

eddie’s heart skipped a beat. 

“wait, what?” he said. “you- you like me?’

richie laughed.

“man, i knew you were oblivious, but this is BAD,” he joked. “yeah, i like you. and i can prove it too.”

eddie’s heart fluttered and his breath hitched as richie leaned in, and softly kissed him. it was gentle and sweet and perfect. richie put his hands on eddie’s waist, and eddie cupped richie’s face. the world seemed to slow down, not for long, but enough to enjoy the tender moment and the feeling of richie’s lips against eddie’s. all too soon, richie slowly pulled away, leaving eddie stuttering and starstruck.

richie chuckled softly.

“i should kiss you more often,” he said. “i think this is the longest you’ve ever gone without insulting me.”

“shut up,” eddie said, but it was with a blush and a smile. richie grinned back and pulled eddie into his chest for a hug.

“so,” he said after a moment, “you were really jealous of EDDIE MUNSON?”

“stop it!” eddie whined. “i- i thought you liked him.”

richie laughed. 

“he’s like a brother to me, dude, gross!”

“do you really like me for me?” eddie asked after a moment. richie pulled away and looked in eddie’s eyes.

“of COURSE i do,” richie said genuinely. “i always have.”

eddie smiled.

“good,” he said. “because i’m never playing d&d again.”

[cyanityinsanity101]

hello, i'm just here to tell people in the balan fandom to avoid balanloveshumans once again.

this time, they stole art without even giving credit, then quite literally just decided "oh you're the one who's just a buzzkill" when i called them out for it. as if being concerned for not crediting an artist's work and for minor's safety is a fucking buzzkill. so for the love of god, please block balanloveshumans if they interact with your posts

to add context this was the image they stole, the link is to the original image posted by the artist

https://twitter.com/MrToonBat/status/1288936539913957379

[troonwolf]

Anyway this post is about me:

So I want to make some things very clear. 

I am doing this because I am sick of the gossip and badmouthing. This person has a much larger audience than me, many that are in the same fandoms as me and who sometimes interact with my art. I plan to open commissions in the future because I’m in desperate financial need, and someone smearing me like this (and name-dropping me, which I know he does in private) could seriously hurt my ability to earn in fandom spaces.

Additionally, I find it ridiculous that someone who claims to hate “toxic callout fandom culture” and etc, is doing to me exactly what he complains other people do: lying, exaggerating, and misrepresenting events to make someone look “problematic” and essentially unperson them in fandom.

With that said-

I have never harassed mywitchcultblr (the author of that post).

I have never sent them messages about Disney, Marvel, Ao3, whether on anon or personally. 

I in fact have never sent anyone messages about Marvel, Disney, Ao3, or ANYTHING else related to fandom.

Nor do I consider “all Ao3 users paedophiles”. I use Ao3. My boyfriend uses Ao3. My friends and mutuals use Ao3- this also goes for Disney and Marvel. Tons of people around me love those things.

No one around me cares that I sometimes criticise those things. When I do criticise those things, it’s always some dumb shitpost that I intentionally leave untagged so that it’s isolated in my own space.

The only time I ever approached mywitchcultblr about “discourse”, was to do with natural systems and DID, because I myself have DID. Even then I was civil, the conversation was over in a few messages, and we never spoke about it again.

When I first met Ann, his blog was a lot different from what it is now. There was barely any NSFW or kink, barely any fandom discourse. He just posted about fandom and LGBT stuff.

When he became involved in fandom discourse, began constantly posting untagged NSFW, being defensive when people asked him to tag things, and overall saying and doing things that made me uncomfortable or that I did strongly disagree with, I just blocked him.

We didn’t argue.

I didn’t send him any messages.

I didn’t send him any anons.

I blocked him and moved on. I set a boundary and moved on. That’s what you’re meant to do, right? Then why am I still hearing about it a year later?

Despite the fact I am just some guy he knew for a few months, he has this obsession with me as some kind of fallen father figure in his personal narrative. I’m always referred to as “someone I looked up to who disappointed me.”

This is inappropriate. I am no one’s role model. I didn’t consent to be your father figure and told you on several occasions how severely mentally ill I am. This would be parasocial if I was a bigger blogger but since I’m just some guy, it’s not quite that but still not healthy or reasonable. 

We were in each other’s lives for a few months and talked occasionally. That’s it.

We didn’t even argue or have a real “falling out”. I blocked him. There was no interaction. But ever since then he spreads more exaggerations and lies about me and I’m tired of it.

Don’t take the word of someone who knew me less than a few months, that I’m a toxic harasser, just because I stopped feeling comfortable on his blog and blocked him for my own comfort.

I wish him no ill will but I do wish he’d stop projecting his father issues onto me, and I don’t say that to be funny. it’s extremely weird and uncomfortable to be put in this situation of “I idolised you because you’re an older queer man in fandom and I’m going to make that your problem if you don’t live up to my ideals.”

I’m just some guy. I’m in my 30s, childless, homeless, gay, majorly spangled in the head. No one should be looking up to me. I shouldn’t be held accountable for other people’s made up versions of me. I think we can all agree that isn’t fair.

If he was just calling me a buzzkill or cynical or annoying, I’d fully agree with those statements lmao! But to say I’m toxic and that people around me will be harassed for disagreeing with me is an exaggeration of my character.

I also want to add that my boyfriend has attempted messaging him in order to have a civil discussion on why he keeps lying about me when it's been practically a year since I blocked him, but Ann doesn't respond.

Anyway, that’s all folks.