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brokendoor16 · 1 month

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Okay. So I just realised I haven't posted anything in a while and this has been in my head ALL DAY, so please enjoy my English-Lit-level analysis of why Too Sweet is the most Anthony J Crowley song ever to Anthony J Crowley!!

(What this means is that I'm about to analyse every single fucking lyric in excruciating detail, I apologise in advance)

HERE GOES!!

It can't be said I'm an early bird // it's 10 o'clock before I say a word- Starting off easy here. He slept through most of the 19th century, and can you IMAGINE what he'd be like in the mornings??

Baby, I can never tell // how do you sleep so well?- Bit of a stretch on this one since Aziraphale doesn't canonically sleep, but let's just say sleep is a metaphor. He's asking how Aziraphale can seem 'at peace' so easily, when he can never seem to find any sort of balance.

You keep tellin' me to live right // to go to bed before the daylight- Aziraphale has a very strict set of morals, some instilled in him by Heaven but also some of his own; it's one of the things Crowley loves about him, but it can also result in him coming off like he's telling people how to live their lives 'right'.

But then you wake up for the sunrise- Now THIS is an interesting one. Waking up at sunrise and going to bed in the daylight both result in a lack of sleep, but one is seen as a 'good' thing to do. Aziraphale is just as run-down and burnt-out as Crowley, but he's ignoring it because it's for the 'right' reasons.

You know, you don't gotta pretend- He knows what Aziraphale's doing, and he's saying that he doesn't need to hide behind his heavenly facade; he can be himself.

Baby, now and then // don't you just wanna wake up- So you could probably take this one two ways; either as the whole demonic-temptation idea, or as an invitation for something they do frequently: get drunk, sped time together, and ignore Heaven and Hell for a little while.

Dark as a lake // smelling like a bonfire // lost in a haze- Funnily enough, being 'dark' and 'smelling like a bonfire' are both things you could associate with Hell, or the Fall. You could hear this as Crowley asking 'don't you want to let go and have some fun?' or you could hear it as 'I know this is selfish, but don't you wanna Fall for me?'

If you're drunk on life, babe // I think it's great- He's acknowledging that all he really wants is for Aziraphale to be happy. If he lived by all his strict rules because that's what he wanted, or because he was 'drunk on life' enough not to NEED anything else, that would be great.

But while in this world- They're not gonna be on Earth forever, especially if you imagine it from the perspective of pre-Apocalypse Crowley, so they may as well make the most of the time they have left.

I think I'll take my whisky neat- Well, first up it's Crowley and we all KNOW he's got a drinking problem. But also, it's a way of saying 'I know you worry about me, but this is who I am, and I'm gonna do it anyway'

My coffee black and my bed at three- There's not much to analyse on this one. Six shots of espresso in a big cup, and partying till God-knows-what-time.

You're too sweet for me- oh my GOD, the things I could say about this line. Honestly, I just feel like Crowley is always worried about 'corrupting' Aziraphale, or not being good enough for him. He's 'Too Sweet' for Crowley, because he's never felt love as soft and sweet (the closest he's ever got was God, and She was quick to cast him out) and he's scared of breaking it.

I aim low // I aim true, and the ground's where I go- This bit's almost sarcastic, and a little self-deprecating; you can't aim lower than Hell, and by asking questions he sure hit his target.

I work late where I'm free from the phone- He works a little ahead of time to stay clear of Hell's reprimands, or 'phone calls'. Also, working 'late' could link to working in darkness, which he's been doing since he Fell.

And the job gets done // but you worry some, I know- Aziraphale is constantly worrying about the Arrangement; not for himself, but for what Hell will do to Crowley if they find out. Crowley constantly finds himself reassuring him that as long as 'the job gets done', he'll be fine.

But who wants to live forever, babe?- This part's almost ironic. Crowley doesn't WANT to live forever, but he will, and so he can afford to be a little reckless; to him, it doesn't matter either way.

You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate- Aziraphale is always so careful about everything he says, even to Crowley, needing to make sure he stays 'Heavenly'.

The rest of you like you're the TSA- Aziraphale is ALWAYS careful with everything, regulating everything by Heaven's rules and regulations on what he can and can't do (think the TSA do's and don't's).

I wish I could go along // babe, don't get me wrong- Despite spending most of the song (and his life) railing against Heaven's rules, part of him still wishes he'd been able to 'go along' with them.

You know you're bright as the morning // soft as the rain- It just shows that everything Aziraphale is is the exact opposite of Crowley (or at least, of his image). He's 'bright' and 'soft', two things you'd never find in Hell, and Crowley doesn't quite know how to handle it.

Pretty as a vine // as sweet as a grape- He (Aziraphale) may be 'pretty' and 'sweet', but there's something else about him. Vines and grapes turn into wine, which Crowley is already addicted to; he's scared of becoming addicted to Aziraphale's sweetness.

If you can sit in a barrel- Obviously, grapes left in a barrel ferment into wine; he's awaiting the day Aziraphale gains just enough bitterness to go against Heaven. However, wine is considerably sweeter than Crowley's aforementioned whisky, so although he wants him to see Heaven the way he does, he prioritises keeping his sweetness rather than becoming fully bitter- he may be 'too sweet', but that's what Crowley loves about him.

Maybe I'll wait // until that day- This part's almost funny from Crowley's perspective, because there's no 'maybe' about it. He'd wait eternity to be allowed to love Aziraphale.

SO. There we go. If you actually read this far, tysm and I am SO SO SORRY, but hope you enjoyed my ridiculously long and mental-gymnastics-y analysis (I will not be rereading this or I won't end up posting it, so sorry about any mistake)

Have the best day ❤️❤️

#good omens #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #good omens 2 #ineffable idiots #character analysis #Kinda?#Song analysis more like #But from the POV of a character?#Honestly idk what happened here #And I am very very sorry about it #Anyways #hozier #too sweet #crowley good omens #anthony janthony crowley #i am unhinged about this show #Can you tell?

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mrs-gauche · 7 months

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If the Spirit!Solas theory happens to be true—and I’m confident it is—then it really gives you a new level of respect for how much restraint this guy has.

I’m talking specifically about his interactions with Dorian. The part where Dorian is trying to convince Solas that enslaving spirits is cool and neat and not wrong because ‘spirits aren’t people.’

Imagine having the strength of character to listen to someone tell you to your face that you are not a person and therefore undeserving of the most basic civil rights without immediately decking them in the face.

Solas puts up with tool much, man.

Oh yeah, definitely! 😂 (As much as I feel for Dorian just trying to find some common ground...) I guess that one line in Tevinter Nights does a great job of putting Solas' attitude on this matter in a nutshell.

[…] roared not in anger, but with quiet contempt. "From this moment, should you ever bind a spirit, then your life is mine."

Keep in mind, Solas has witnessed spirits suffering from the consequences of creating the Veil for at least a thousand years at this point, if only from the Fade. When he's saying "It hurts. It always does." to the Inquisitor after returning to Skyhold and Wisdom's death, he's referring to the countless times he had to watch his friends being drawn to the waking world, either forced, or to see them “wish to join the living”, only to be twisted, bound, corrupted, killed, you name it.

"How small the pain of one man seems when weighed against the endless depths of memory, of feeling, of existence. That ocean carries everyone. And those of us who learn to see its currents move through life with their fewer ripples."

Much like a lot of his banter with Sera taunting him about his grief for the past, at this point, Solas is so old and has witnessed so much history, so much pain, that Dorian's remarks couldn't possibly evoke any real anger from him. It's so insignificant compared to what he has seen. There's a reason why Weekes keeps emphasizing how friggin tired Solas truly is. This is after all the general perception of spirits in present Thedas, aside from a few cultures like the Avvar. He can't blame Dorian for Tevinter raising him to think of spirits as nothing more than "amorphous constructs", just like he can't blame the Dalish for the knowledge lost to time. Similarly to any other argument he has with the other companions, Solas' frustration/resentment is almost never aimed at them personally, but rather at the current state of the world that shaped their perspective. (As is also evident in how his banter always ends up with them eventually coming to terms and grow a mutual/respectful relationship. The only exception being a low approval Inquisitor and Iron Bull if he chose the Qun over the Chargers… In that case, the hostility was definitely personal. 😂)

(That being said, I'm SO hoping for any kind of serious emotional outbreak from Solas in DA4, since there's still like a thousand year old trauma that needs to be addressed. lol)

But yeah, I think, going by his actions in Tevinter Nights, Tevinter is definitely not ready for what's probably coming for them in DA4, now that Solas is actually able to change things. 👀 And isn't it interesting how he will now be facing the Imperium, which was essentially built on the ruins of the empire he brought down/the same slavery based system he once rebelled against, so history kinda repeats itself? lol

I think it's also very telling how Solas will immediately counter Dorian's comments on the treatment of spirits in Tevinter by directly comparing it to slavery.

Dorian: "There's no harm putting them to constructive use, and most mages back home treat them well." Solas: "And any that show any magical talent are freed, are they not?" Dorian: "What? Spirits don't have magical talent." Solas: "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were talking about your slaves."

But the beautiful irony in this, as I've talked about in this post, is how this draws a direct parallel to how Solas, in return, doesn't recognize the people of the waking world as real either, at least not until after the Inquisitor considers Wisdom a living being worth saving. This and his admission to the Inquisitor after he returns to Skyhold is imo the turning point in his character development. Imo, this is what leads him to say "Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong." in his high approval ending in Trespasser.

And this is also why I think that the theory of Solas intending to save the spirits first and foremost would make for such an interesting story actually.

The waking world doesn't view spirits as real people. Just like Solas can't accept the people of the waking world as real. So, what will happen if he tears down the Veil, and the Fade and the waking world become one again? The Inquisitor was potentially willing to save Wisdom despite it having already turned into a Pride demon. And in doing so, the Inquisitor unintentionally put up a mirror in front of Solas' face and basically went "If I can see them as real people worth saving, why can't you?".

And if the spirit origin theory is true, then it could make for a fascinating inner conflict. Solas, living in both the waking world and the Fade, having been a spirit and a corporeal person, is now facing the question of who "his people" actually are. Where does he belong? After all, his biggest fear remains to "die alone".

While this was said in more of a joking manner, Weekes' words from 2016 really put it into perspective here. Solas sees himself in that old fisherman he saw in the Fade. He is "the one who lived". So, I picture it like this… Solas is left alone in the Fade after the creation of the Veil. Spirits are now his only company for the next thousand years. Whether or not those spirits were the remaining souls of the elves he tried to save, we don't know, but regardless, I truly believe they are his people. But he is not a spirit. At least, not anymore.

Cole: "You don't need to envy me, Solas. You can find happiness in your own way." Solas: "I apologize for disturbing you, Cole. I am not a spirit and sometimes it hard to remember such simple truths." Cole: "They are not gone so long as you remember them." Solas: "I know." Cole: "But you could let them go." Solas: "I know that as well." Cole: "You didn't do it to be right. You did it to save them." Inquisitor: "Solas, what is Cole talking about?" Solas: "A mistake. One of many by a much younger elf who was certain he knew everything."

In this banter, Cole reveals to us that Solas' mind immediately goes from "It's hard for me to accept I'm not a spirit" to "the people that were lost when Solas created the Veil". To me, this pretty much confirms that the people of Elvhenan and spirits are connected, if not one and the same. It's assumed that the Evanuris mined the Titans to somehow create bodies for spirits to inhabit, and that Mythal gave Solas a body against his will. There's also the theory about the creation of the Veil having caused the separation of body and spirit.

You know, I've written so much about this in previous posts and I don't want to sound like a broken record, but if we consider all those little clues and look at all of his dialogue in that context, it just makes so much sense to me, that what he wants to do is primarily to save the spirits/destroy the barrier for them to enter the waking world without their purpose getting corrupted. There's also still the matter of the Blights and red lyrium otherwise probably consuming the entire world. 😅 I think that's what he's referring to when saying "What I am doing will save this world" in Tevinter Nights.

And remember, "Dread Wolf" is still literally an anagram for "World" and "Fade". 😂 Both worlds colliding is quite literally in his title. lol Whatever the six eyed high dragon sized Dread Wolf actually is, as far as we know, he only seems to exist within the Fade, but how exactly is he connected to Solas and what will happen to him if he tears down the Veil (which btw is also definitely gonna happen… I mean, besides the fact that the Veil is getting weaker regardless of Solas' actions)? ANYWAY.

Sorry for rambling so much (and I feel like my English is a little rusty, too 😖), but I haven't talked about this stuff in a while and the lack of news is killing me. 😂 But your message gave me something to think about again, so thank you! :)

#oh no this got so long again 😖#solas #also again Bioware I beg you please give us that ''Solas calling his spirit army and charging into battle'' moment from TN 👀#tinfoil time #da4 #''Spirit self. Seeing the soul. Solas. But somehow sorrows.''#watch us play DA4 one day and none of this turn out to be true 😂#but I'm gonna die on that hill lol

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kingkatsuki · 2 years

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Early to Rise | Eddie Munson x Reader

This is a thirst post that got out of hand, I hope you guys enjoy it!💕

Summary: Eddie’s alarm wakes you up a little too early and you’re determined to get a few more minutes of sleep, unfortunately for you- your boyfriend has other ideas.

Warnings: 18+, PWP, established relationship, soft sleepy morning sex, praise, teasing, fingering, one use of the word cumslut, creampie, not proof-read.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x f!reader.

Word Count: 3.4k.

You were never much of a morning person, but nothing could compare to Eddie Munson. His friends would joke that he could sleep through an apocalypse, and maybe that was true. The man had the loudest alarm possible to try and rouse him from slumber, often taking three rounds of the snooze button before he’d even contemplate getting out of bed. And the moments where you slept over made it that much more difficult, the soothing warmth of your soft body more than enough to coax him back to sleep.

“Eddie,” You groaned as his shrill alarm continued to blare in the background, burying your face into his soft pillow as you felt his arm move from where it was slung over your hip, “Turn it off.”

The man leaned back to blindly slap his bedside table as he felt for his alarm, aiming for the snooze button as his eyes opened to a squint. Finally hitting the source of the noise as he moved to flop back down on his bed, resuming his position behind you as he flung an arm back over your hip. You snuggled back into his pillow before you felt a hardness poking the small of your back, Eddie’s breath hitching in his throat as you wriggled against it. A move he already anticipated as he tightened his hold, gripping you tighter to his body.

“Hey, princess- you awake?” He hovered over you, trying to see your face as you clenched your eyes shut tighter, determined not to let the early sunlight that was pooling into the room rouse you.

“No.” You grumbled, making a wide grin break out on Eddie’s face as he nosed your neck.

“Good,” He mumbled, a grumbly rasp to his tone, “Woke up so fuckin’ hard, babe.”

He gave a rough rut of his hips into you to prove his point, feeling his hardness poking into the curve of your ass as he ground himself against you, giving himself the slightest stimulation as a groan rumbled from deep in his chest.

“Ed-” You slurred, your voice still laced with sleep, “You gotta get up, you’ve got class. Let me sleep”

“That’s hardly fair,” He scoffed.

It was too early to do anything, the sun slowly rising over the horizon and illuminating his bedroom as the mornings began to be lighter. Winter turned into spring as he buried his nose in your neck, his messy hair tickling your skin as you push your hips back against him. Pressing your ass firmly against his crotch as he let out a low groan, moving into the sensation. Eddie didn’t want to go to Hawkins High, not when he had such a beautiful girl dozing in his bed. The pros far outweighed the cons as he let his palm slip beneath the oversized shirt you wore to sleep, one of his huge band shirts that were a few sizes too big for him. The Black Sabbath motif printed along the front was worn from age but you made it look perfect, his tongue slipping out to lap at the curve of your neck as his fingers crept higher, teasing the underside of your naked breast.

“You’re gonna be late-” You mumbled into his pillow, breathing in the scent of him against the fabric as you willed it to coax you back to sleep. You’d always loved how Eddie smelt in the morning, it was probably unusual, but the slightly musky scent of him always had your thighs rubbing together, it made you feel safe, comforted and loved. Finding yourself often leaning into him as you breathed him in. You had absolutely no intention of waking up for at least another hour, you didn’t start work until ten and you were determined to make the most of it.

“I’ve still got time” He smirked against your neck, he had a habit of setting at least three alarms in a row to avoid switching it off and sleeping half the day away, “Got at least two more alarms to go.”

“No,” You whined, not wanting to hear the irksome noise again as you tried to pull the covers up higher around your frame, “Please, there’s no time-”

“We have time, that was the first alarm.”

The thought of his alarm going off again filled you with dread, the sound already repeating in your head as you tried to erase it from your memory. The heavy thud of a metal track would be better than the piercing tone of his alarm clock.

“You’d be so mad if I woke you up, Eddie.” You yawned, already feeling the urge to sleep dissipating, “You threatened to kick me out of bed last week.”

“It was a Sunday!” He moaned, “No one wakes up early on Sundays.”

“It was 1:00PM!”

“Okay fine.” He shifted his hips, his cock snug against your back, “You can wake me up like this any time sweetheart— fuck,” Eddie’s palm cupped your breast as he squeezed softly, feeling your nipple begin to pebble beneath his touch.

“Horny bastard.” You groaned softly, his teeth grazing the delicate skin of your neck as you felt his lips curl into a smile.

“Says you.” He teased, his voice still raspy from sleep, “I know you want me, sweetheart.”

Eddie gave another cant of his hips into your backside as he groaned, “Cause I really, really want you.”

“I can tell,” You hum, a soft smile on your face as you turn your head to the side, feeling his lips brush your cheek as the fresh stubble on his jawline grazes your skin.

“Am I really that transparent?” He pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he tugs lightly, coaxing more pretty sounds from between your lips.

“I can read you like a book, Munson.”

“You’re not telling me to stop,” He laughs gruffly, letting his hand slide down your belly towards your panties, feeling the soft fabric beneath his fingers.

“I’ll wake you up next time and see how you like it,” You grumbled, already plotting to wake him up on a Saturday morning after a late-night Corroded Coffin show, then we’d see how much Eddie Munson liked it.

“If it involves you waking me up with pussy I’ll probably love it,” He shrugged, “Or those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

“In your dream- oh,” You laughed airily, breaking off into a moan as he moved his fingers lower.

“What’s this?” Eddie fake gasped, his hand cupping your crotch as he felt your damp panties, “I thought you didn’t want it, but here you are soaking wet. Still wanna go back to sleep, princess?”

“Shut up,” You muttered, rolling your hips into his touch to give your puffy clit some much-needed friction as Eddie let his middle finger tap against the sensitive nub through your panties, every sound you made had his cock throbbing as he continued languidly rutting himself against you.

“As you wish, m’lady.” Eddie grinned, leaning over you to meet your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. It was a slightly awkward angle as you leaned your head back to meet his motions, but Eddie’s lips were delicate as he dragged you in, finding yourself succumbing to his touch. His fingers crept beneath the crotch of your panties to brush his fingers through your wet slit, parting your folds as he sought your clit out. Capturing your muffled whines in his mouth as he cradled your body against his, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed against your own. Slow, insistent circles pressed against your clit as you felt warm. Eddie’s room was humid in the early sun of spring as you pushed the thin sheet down your body, spreading your thighs to give him more space as you locked your ankle over his calf.

The kiss was becoming increasingly breathless as you found it difficult to think, Eddie completely captivating your senses as he worked you towards your release. Fingers dragging through your messy slick to circle your tight hole before moving back towards your clit. Breaking the kiss as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of your bliss, desperate whines leaving your lips as Eddie tilted his head back to watch your expression change as he increased his pace against your clit. Wanting to see the euphoric expression on your face as he sent you tumbling over the edge of your release.

“Eddie,” You whined, feeling him slide his fingers lower as he pushed two into your tight entrance, your fluttering walls already trying to drag him deeper inside your silky depths, “Please.”

He groaned at the desperate tone of your voice, his cock stirring as pre soaked his boxers, his palm pressed snug against your clit as you began to grind yourself against it, fingers curled perfectly against the spot inside you he knew would have you coming undone for him. You could smell the slight scent of his sweat that only added to the sensation, gasping when he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

“That’s it, pretty girl.” He hummed, “I know you’re close, can feel you squeezin’ my fingers.”

Still half-asleep, the sensation of Eddie’s fingers was far more intense, sending you hurtling towards your climax as your eyes clenched shut. His arm that was under your neck wrapped around your shoulders to hold you against him as he kept his pace, willing you to let go.

“Ed- Eddie,” You cried out, feeling his wrist continuing to flick as he pumped his fingers inside you, “I’m gonna-”

“Look at me, pretty girl.” His tone shifted to harsh, commanding as he practically growled in your ear, “Wanna see you when you cum for me.”

Your eyes snapped open to meet his brown ones, staring down at you with complete lust in his gaze as he pressed the flat of his palm down against your clit hard. Your hips jerked as you felt yourself succumb to the pleasure, walls clamping down around his fingers as you came with a whine.

“Eddie,” You trembled, your thigh moving from its position on top of his to close your legs around his hand, his fingers still pumping inside your fluttering walls as he prolonged your climax, your hand wrapping around his wrist to try and get him to move away. The pleasure was far too intense for such an early hour, your mind still hazy from your climax as your body throbbed.

“Holy shit, Eddie— s’too much,” You heaved a sigh of relief as he finally pulled his hand away, spreading his fingers apart to see silvery strings of your slick breaking off between them. Reaching up to slip both inside his mouth as he tasted you on his tongue, cleaning them off as you scrunched your nose at him.

“You’re disgusting,” You scoffed, watching as he pulled them from between his lips with a lewd smack, offering his spit-soaked fingers to you as you tried to move your face away from them, the back of your head against his collarbone as he laughed at your reaction.

“Yeah, but you love me.” He grinned, wiping his fingers against his bedsheets as you groaned.

“Unfortunately,”

“Ouch, sweetheart.” He feigned indignation, “Hit me where it hurts the most.”

You felt his hips shift behind you, tugging his boxers down enough to free his aching cock as the weight of it flopped against your lower back. Smearing his pre against your skin as he rut his hips against you, his balls flush against your ass as he moved his hands to the hem of your panties. Dragging them down your thighs as you kicked them off carelessly, slipping your thigh back over his to spread yourself open for him.

Taking himself in a fist, Eddie pushed the leaking tip of his cock through your slick folds, parting them as he brushed against your puffy clit. The motion brought more desperate sounds from your throat as he grinned against your shoulder, teeth nipping the soft skin as he repeated the motion, tapping it lightly with the blunt head.

“Eddie, please.” You whimpered, trying to push yourself back against him as he moved his cock back, feeling the tip press against your quivering hole as you felt him slowly begin to breach your entrance, stretching you apart on his girth as you moved a hand back to weave your fingers through his messy curls.

“Awfully desperate for someone that didn’t want to a few minutes earlier,” He laughed huskily, feeling your inner walls constricting around him as he pushed more of himself inside your dripping hole.

“Shut up,” You groaned, fingers tightening in his curls as you tugged roughly. His response was a gruff groan, canting his hips forward as he buried himself inside you to the hilt. The thick hairs at the base of his cock tickling your ass as he stilled for a moment to revel in the sensation, moving a hand to curl around your thigh as he held it up, spreading you open for him as he started a harsh, rough pace that was full of urgency and desperation. Like you were the only thing that mattered in the world-

“Oh, fuck. Ed-” You gasped, your nails scratching his scalp as he fucked into you with vigour, the angle had him hitting deep, the pulsing underside of his length brushing against the spongy spot inside you as you writhed against him.

“Yeah, you like that?” His calloused fingers dipped into the plush skin of your thigh as he held you tight, pounding into your cunt as his warm breath fanned your dewy skin. A thin sheen of sweat had your bodies sticking together, and the humidity in the room had you panting as you felt him focusing on your pleasure.

“Fuckin’ hell,” His hand beneath your neck came down to bunch your shirt up over your tits so he could see them bouncing in time with his rough thrusts, the sight making his cock throb inside you as his pent-up body neared his release, “When did I get so lucky?”

“Eddie,” You gasped, trying to match his pace as you rolled your hips back against him.

“Love the way you say my name, sweetheart.” He groaned, “Like an angel-”

Eddie moved your thigh back on top of his, weaving his arm around your body to press two of his fingers flat against your sensitive clit, rubbing frantic circles against it as he felt your walls begin to clench around him, “Wanna feel you cum on my cock, angel.”

“Oh, shit-” You gasp as you feel yourself close to your release, lashes fluttering as you tug at his hair at the root, “‘m gonna- Eddie.”

“I’ve got you, baby.” He whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he continued teasing your clit, “I’ve got you- cum for me, yeah?”

“Fuck,” You cried out, feeling your orgasm begin to crash into you in harsh waves, your thighs trembling as you came undone.

“That’s it, good girl-” He groaned, pressing wet, warm kisses against the side of your face as he felt your walls clenching around him.

Your body shaking as you leaned forward, your tummy pressed against the mattress as Eddie followed your movements, his weight pressed on top of you comfortably as his cock remained buried deep inside your quivering cunt, sloppily rutting his hips into your ass. Forearms resting on either side of your head as the alarm clock began to blare again, the second alarm finally sounding as you both ignored it. Too engrossed in your pleasure as he continued pounding into your tight heat.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cum, you know?” Eddie continued to ramble, fully engrossed in his pleasure as he sought his own release, his hips bruising against the curve of your ass as he felt how much tighter you were after your climax, “Could stare at you all damn day.”

“Eddie,” You convulsed as you felt his teeth bite down on your shoulder hard, his warm tongue lashing against the skin as he marked you. The sensation had your cunt clenching around him as he felt his balls begin to tighten as he stumbled on the edge of his own release.

“Wanna fill this pretty pussy so bad,” He rambled, hands clenched into fists on either side of your head, “Gonna leave you dripping with my cum until I get home and fuck it all back into you,”

He spoke between thrusts, chest heaving as the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filled his room, almost drowned out by the blearing alarm that was still pounding in the background. The scent of sex was heavy in the air, and it had white spots blanking your vision as you tried to calm your body down.

“Fuck,” You gasped at his crude words, your cunt clamping down around him as you tried to milk his cock for all it was worth.

“Yeah? You like that?” He goaded.

“Yeah,” You repeated, a harsh gasp leaving your lips when he hit particularly deep inside you, every single inch of your warmth wrapped around his thick cock.

“Course you do, my pretty little cumslut.” He almost snarled, the possessive undertone to his voice didn’t go unnoticed by you as it had you pulsing hard.

“Eddie,” The sound of his name leaving your lips had his mouth open in a deep, guttural groan as he gave a few more messy thrusts into your wet heat, heavy balls slapping against your clit as he found his own bliss. Spilling his release inside you with a cry of your name, his sweaty forehead pressed against your collarbone as he tried to stop his body from collapsing on top of you.

You felt a warmth spread inside you as he pumped you full, giving a few more languid rolls of his hips until he stilled inside you. Cherishing the sensation of your walls throbbing around his spent cock as he pressed soft kisses to your dewy back, nosing the soft skin as you both came down from your highs.

Soon the post-orgasmic euphoria began to wear off as your ears picked up the incessant beeping of his alarm clock, the shrill sound ruining the peaceful movement as you shifted your hips. Eddie’s softening cock was still buried inside you as he whined indignantly, pushing more of his weight onto you to try and stop you from moving as you turned your head to the side.

“Eddie, the fucking alarm, please.” Eddie clicked his tongue, taking a deep breath before lifting himself up from your body. His cock slipped out of your warmth as you both sighed at the loss of contact, his palm coming down on his alarm clock hard as the third alarm started immediately after it. Repeating the motion as he flopped down onto his back beside you on the mattress, scooping your body into his arms as you lay your head against his pectoral. Pressing a kiss against his tattoo as you felt his cum begin to seep out of you and coat your inner thighs.

“You are so fucking late, you know that right?”

“Well, if I’m already late, it doesn’t matter if I stay a little longer, does it?”

“No, Eddie.” You made to move out of his grip, feeling him anticipate the move as his arms tightened around you, “You’ll make me late.”

“You still got time, sweetheart.” He hummed, already feeling his eyes getting heavy as he lay back against his pillows.

“I still need to shower because someone decided to jump me this morning.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it, babe.” He grinned, his eyes now closed.

“I don’t like being late for work,” You countered, “And you’ve definitely missed first period.”

“It’s okay,” His voice was becoming softer as he found himself succumbing to slumber, “I can help you shower and I’ll make it in for second.”

“Somehow I don’t believe that.” You scoffed, knowing all too well that Eddie’s idea of helping would be to have you cum at least once more before even thinking about soap, so there would be no way he’d make it in for his second class, “You’ll just make me late.”

“Hey, we might as well be late together.” He opened his eyes to a squint to look at you, squeezing your hip before moving his hand up to your head to press it back down onto his chest, “Come on, sweetheart. Five more minutes, I promise I’ll wake you up-”

And somehow you knew this would be a promise that Eddie Munson would definitely be breaking.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #soft eddie munson #eddie munson thirst

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lxvenderjewel · 1 month

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song/ship analyses part 10: aziracrow and "too sweet" by hozier

so we all heard this song right? and then immediately died right??

“It can't be said I'm an early bird

It's ten o'clock before I say a word” headcanon that crowley wakes up very late because of drinking heavily after aziraphale leaves

“How do you sleep so well?” how did crowley sleep before azi left

“You keep telling me to live right

To go to bed before the daylight” this can be a dual meaning, cause it can be aziraphale and muriel, hence why he doesn’t listen, it reminds him too much of his angel

“You know you don't gotta pretend

Baby, now and then” crowley telling azi he doesn’t need to pretend to be a perfect angel all the time

“I think I'll take my whiskey neat” the demon is heavy drinking

“My coffee black” he orders six shots of espresso at gmcogmd

“and my bed at three” he falls asleep really late and wakes up really late because of the drinking

“You're too sweet for me” dual meaning again, could be talking about azi being too sweet for him or muriel being too sweet to him

“I aim low

I aim true, and the ground's where I go” the Fall

“I work late where I'm free from the phone

And the job gets done

But you worry some, I know” azi constantly worrying about crowley and hell because he’s afraid that theyll take him and torture him

“But who wants to live forever, babe” he’ll look at the little bit of holy water he has left in the jug, because of course he wouldn’t use it all. he may be an optimist but he’s not stupid

“You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate” the final fifteen kiss

“The rest of you like you're the TSA

I wish that I could go along” crowley would go everywhere for azi, everywhere but heaven, he can’t go back to heaven, he can’t.

“You know you're bright as the morning

As soft as the rain” crowley associates azi with the rainfall at eden, the first rain, soft on his wings, the sun still shining

“Pretty as a vine

As sweet as a grape” the scene in rome where crowley and aziraphale are getting wine and azi slips up

#good omens #aziracrow #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #song/ship analysis #too sweet #too sweet hozier #hozier #unheard #unheard hozier #GUYS.

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rinndjarin · 1 month

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Hozier's new song is so Joel coded it's not even funny; I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me ...

I aim low I aim true, and the ground's where I go I work late where I'm free from the phone And the job gets done But you worry some, I know But who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate

#joel miller #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #neil druckmann #troy baker #hozier

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wizardnuke · 1 month

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i think ill take my whiskey neat my coffee black and my bed at three youre too sweet for me you're too sweet for me i aim low i aim true and the ground's where i go

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pentacass · 8 months

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A/N: Abstract piece set in Act 3. No spoilers, except for the hair thing. [Shadowheart/fem!Tav]

“First rule of assassination.”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes, but doesn’t fight the fingers that clasp her jaw firmly, tilting it upward.

“Never open an artery while you’re standing in front of it.”

When sulking lips part to argue, Solistre presses a damp rag to Shadowheart’s face, and wipes at the spray of blood half-dried over fair skin. Most comes off on the first pass, staining the rag a deep red, but the scowl remains.

“We were in battle,” Shadowheart bites back. “I had no time to worry about positioning-”

“Positioning is key to victory.”

“I saved your life!” Shadowheart tries to lean forward, but is held back by Solistre’s grip. “And you’re critiquing my technique? Really?”

It is impossible to hold back now - a smirk breaks across Solistre’s carefully neutral expression. Shadowheart’s eyes narrow, withering, and she aims a half-hearted slap at Solistre’s wrist.

“That thug hardly posed a threat to my life.”

Which is true, to an extent. That city-pampered cultist was barely a match for Solistre’s shadowblade training in the depths of the Underdark. A simple flick of the wrist, and her dagger would’ve sunk into her foe’s forehead, ending him before his greatsword could fall on her.

But that doesn’t mean Solistre’s heart hadn’t surged with blood-rushing ardour when Shadowheart charged in, slashing her spear in a vicious arc across the cultist’s neck. Solistre couldn’t stop staring when Shadowheart turned around, face and pale blonde hair dripping with the blood of the slain, eyes shining with concern as she’d reached down to help Solistre off the ground.

Shadowheart probably mistook her mute adoration for a dazed state after suffering a blow to the head, but Solistre doesn’t have the heart to break the news to her. Not yet…if ever.

“Then I shall leave you to fend for yourself next time.” Shadowheart retorts, frowning when Solistre folds the rag and wipes across her face again. “Are you done?”

“Be still,” Solistre warns, when Shadowheart tries to take the rag. Her hand falls immediately.

Smiling at the unhappy pout, Solistre folds out a clean corner of the rag. She brushes off the last streaks of blood, tidying the smudged edges of black eyeshadow as she goes, and finally releases Shadowheart’s face from her hold.

“There. A little waiting didn't kill you, did it?”

Shadowheart smiles wryly as she feels about her face. “I swear, you only used that rag because you knew it’d take longer.”

A low chuckle warms Solistre’s throat, as she tosses the used rag aside. “Just be glad I didn’t clean you in drow fashion.”

“And that would be…?”

Solistre leans down - slow, deliberate - drawing Shadowheart’s eyes back to hers, locking in a gaze turned electric. “I would kiss the blood from your lips.”

Unbidden, green eyes flicker down to her mouth. “Tempting…but unhygienic.”

Solistre smiles, dipping in to claim a kiss from those soft, waiting lips. “Yet you are tempted nonetheless.”

Shadowheart sighs. “Forget I said anything.”

She takes Solistre’s proffered hand, rising from the crate where she had been seated, and doesn't let go as they make for the cellar's stairs.

#still figuring out their dynamic n voices #but had to get this outta my system first #or i'll explode #i literally will #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #shadowheart #solistre #yzwrites

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spearxwind · 11 months

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Hiya, I’d like to put some thoughts out there on my blog (my house) bc I need to yarf some intense feelings or I fear I will explode on a nuclear scale. This is about hollowridge (not in a negative light!! just explaining + reminiscing of old stuff and talking about new stuff. Pouring my heart out more than a little bit.)

I will put them under a readmore of course, this is PRETTY long winded, so you can read or ignore at your leisure -w-

I was in my adri tag a while ago looking for some images and ended up going through the whole thing and seeing the evolution of him as a character and HR as a story. Additionally, I recently organized my external memory where all my art files are stored and also saw my old stuff, old concepts, old documents with info and ideas, etc etc and like other times where I have looked through my old stuff I have been WRACKED with so many emotions about it. It’s always a dangerous game to go back into my folders/tags to look because I always end up feeling this whooole spiel all at once and very intensely.

Seeing my content shifts is jarring. Very much so. It always is. I don’t think I can pinpoint causes, some of my better creative highs were at really low points in my life, and then other times my creativity and worlds were subsequently really hardly hit during similar lows. I like to think that I am on the up now though, both mentally and creatively. I’m getting back into a lot of things I love, and I am surrounded by people who I love dearly and who love me back, and things in general are really good! I feel less… I wouldn't say wrathful, but way less frustrated when looking back at my old stuff and more inspired to go back to these concepts with a healthier more open mind + knowing that I have improved nonetheless.

Specifically for hollowridge. Hollowridge feels like a home to me, simple as that. It's something immensely dear to me and I think this is clear by how much effort I have put into it over time, not all of it well placed or with good results, but effort to make it the best that it could be (at best) and effort to keep it afloat (at worst). HR is a strange thing to look back on because it has gone through so many iterations that its hard to pinpoint just one when looking back, but there's a specific time slot (2017-2018 roughly… I’m not gonna check) that I believe is where it was at its best, and that is specifically the vibe that I am trying really hard to go back to with the newest iteration.

I’ve always struggled with it a lot, I've often voiced this publicly, or to friends who would hear my woes out (god bless them for hearing me go on and on about this like a bass boosted and emotional broken record), often because there was so many possibilities that I could run with and I had a lot of really, really conflicting ideas that I wanted to explore. I also had a lot of trouble with lore in general because for many years I was haunted by the absurd need to “make things make sense”, whatever that means. Having things grounded so that people wouldn't be able to poke holes into the watertight plot.. which I never achieved of course. It was less watertight and more of a welded together pringle shaped monstrosity (This was not only true for hollowridge, but was true for everything I have ever made. like in general. It’s been a consistent creative problem for me).

Eventually what happened iteration after iteration was that I throttled myself too much with rules, random limitations, all in favor of making something cohesive and deleting all the fun bits off the project in the process.

For this reason I also can’t just up and go “yeah i'm gonna turboscrap everything and go back to what worked in 2017” because it also DIDN’T work then. But that vibe specifically is what I am aiming for. The “classic” vibe, if you will (if that means anything to you as it does to me.)

What didn't work for me back in the day was giving everything a reason for existing, which is something I no longer wish to do (it’s better that way) and also something that failed back then both in HR, and in extinction (earlier drafts) and just about any version of a story I ever tried to make was THE SCOPE. It always spiraled out of my hands. God entities always escape me. Magic systems always escape me. How cities and such would be regulated in these scenarios escape me. Its just things I’m not comfortable writing about in general

So that’s why I have made changes to it currently (the whole lens of technology over it) because it makes it easier to think about, and easier to handle. Post apocalypses are fun to handle, and also easy to handle (for me, in this context). Technology going awry feels like its easier to think about than just vague “magic”, even if in the end the aesthetic looks literally exactly the same. Does that make sense? I hope it makes sense.

To give an example: Magic spells and circles → programs and code lines. That can be shot into machinery or meat (recodes your fucking genome in real time and gives you super brain hemorrhage idk). I guess it just gives my brain something to latch onto that isnt just vague rules of a magic system that could potentially be anything and everything? It essentially works the exact same way… its just the lens of looking at it is changed.

Mimics are their own thing now (nanotechnology, instead of vague.. shadow things). Adri is his own thing while still connected to mimics (an angel array made of the same stuff, instead of.. whatever else). Connected to the world. AND all the conflicting but dearly beloved concepts I had for him actually fit (snake, scarf, smoke, usurper of a body that is not his. Hey remember when he was made out of ashes/smoke and eventually out of goop. Well all of that is true at once now! It’s ALL canon! Bitch! The concepts have been reconciled!!)

There are also more “normal” creatures besides these, animals that have either evolved aboveground due to fit into new world niches (so I can design Whatever without being too limited) and there’s also machine/biomachine chimeras, and purposed grown organisms, and just Weird Shit made by machines in the belly of the earth (meat is just complex machinery. you know this. your heart is a piston and your blood gasoline. but I digress.) So I have the space to Get Weird if I so choose, on my own terms this time. And it will have a proper place in the world.

There used to be a lot of concepts that were cool that I missed a lot when I had to shift away from them. Like mimics infecting people and pretending to be them, and then being able to break the hosts bodies apart to make bodies for the mimic itself. That did not fly in pretty much 80% of the later versions of HR but I was able to bring it back for this one. I’ve tied mimics to the epidemic and to Adri in a way that MAKES SENSE but lets me go wild anyways

I guess… the short way of explaining is that. Instead of it being very vague supernatural stuff of dubious origin, now it's a ‘manmade horrors beyond your comprehension’ type deal (still of dubious origin). Which obviously neither the characters nor I would be able to explain to you the details of its origins but the distinction MATTERS to me (to my brain).

Something else about HR is that it’s made up of me having rounded up a bunch of ocs who’s stories were empty or were left to the void so that they could have a fitting home where they could shine. At the end of the day I just wanna do my characters justice. I don’t want to just relegate them to nice set pieces (even though they ARE cool set pieces), but each of them has years of backstory stuff that I would like to keep to not lose the essence of said character and its where I put the bulk of my writing effort into.

I want their connections to the story to be solid, but I also want their base vibes and the vibes I am familiar with for those characters to BE THERE too. So if I’m slow with revealing info, or writing in general, its literally because all the processing power in my skull is being used to think of how to best approach that and not just throw low quality spaghetti at a wall. (Sometimes the spaghetti method works very well, but often. It does not. And only makes things more complex in the long run, so I have learned to be more careful with it)

Dianne and Nirven are over 12 years old now as characters. That 's insane. And she still has the same core concept of how her magic works as I created it ages ago.

Same for Bei. He still has his same vibe back when I made him 10 years ago.

And Adam when I made him 9 years ago. Though I’m working out stuff for him still in this new edition, but I’ll get there. I promise.

Sooo……….. What I’m really trying to say is that I’m learning to have fun again. And at the same time (re)realizing I used to have some super swag ideas that I have never fully let go of that I am VERY adamant on keeping. And my aim is to go back to that unhinged unbridled joy of creating for a world that is just So Fucked Up but it Works somehow. And yeah, if you’ve ever been frustrated at my changes don’t worry: me fuckin’ too buddy. A thousandfold. And if you’ve ever been curious as to the why of everything, then I hope this rant serves as some sort of explanation?

So yeah, if you’re an old fan and missed old stuff, I hope I am able to do it justice once more and from now on. I promise I am trying my best, I always have been. It just works better sometimes. And if you are someone new and dont know what the fuck I’m talking about, 1. thank you for reading this far and 2. I hope you enjoy the ride regardless

And who knows…. knowing me in a few years I might see this all changed again. Or maybe this will be the one, finally, that sticks. We’ll see. At the moment like I said, I am focusing on loving my characters, their world, their and my original intentions, and just having as much fun as I can with it. If I create confusion in the process then that’s something I will have to accept. I’m not a big media corporation with a team or writers, or even just one (1) accomplished author with a huge brain. I’m not tolkien. I’m just some guy having fun with made up guys in my brain

Thank you for reading this far, if you did, if there’s anything you’d like to comment or discuss (if anything, I don’t expect it) please feel free to reply or DM me, I try to respond in a timely manner when possible <3

Thanks for sticking around too. It means the world to me that you have. Have a really good week, cheers

#thunderclap #the hollowridge disaster #i feel like i need to put it in the tag 😅 for safekeeping #drop a like if you read this if you please #it is currently two AM i should have gone to bed two hours ago but 1. i was hanging with a friend and had this mid writing #and 2. i felt like if i didnt pour my brain out I was going to toss and turn all night #anyway yeah i have a lot of baggage with this that ill never be rid of so like. i just want to do GOOD yknow? i just want to do good.#alex writes #not fiction but i do use some big boy prose I think. academic moment #errr....... im hoping this isnt a badly placed post oops. idk what i mean by that just [vague fear] idk #the mortifying ordeal of being misunderstood vs the mortifying ordeal of pouring my heart out to strangers #you know how it is

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snorky · 6 months

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Desert Drifting

Hey y’all! This piece is more experimental in my opinion since I tried to merge this story with an existing fictional universe, so I apologize if the quality isn’t the best. The universe is the Danger Days/True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys Universe, written by Gerard Way and Shaun Simon, which is a lovely comic series you should check out. All credits go to those folks for anything relating to that universe in this story! Flashbacks are in italics. I hope you all enjoy this, and take care of yourself!

Pairing: Vince Dunn x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mentions of sci-fi weapons, Some violence + hurt (slight blood); (Let me know if I need to add anything)

—

“Dunn! Slow down!”

He drifted his old Mustang Fastback down the desert road, kicking up a cloud of dirt in the process.

“No way, darlin’!” He laughed maniacally. “You’ll live!”

The sky had an array of golden and burnt orange hues as an aftermath of the Helium Wars. Radiation occasionally fizzed from the carcasses of poor animals that didn’t escape the firefight in time.

His curly hair seemed to glow in the sun, his face darkly handsome when the shadows of his face were apparent. A soft smile was on his face as he maneuvered the car in sharp curves and turns at high speeds, quite the opposite of their scared expression.

Vince, or his new nickname he took on after he fled from Battery City, Dunn, lived in Zone 6, far enough that he didn’t have to worry about getting caught by Draculoids sent out by Better Living Industries, but not far enough where he could keep his guard down.

“Dunn! We’ve got to get back before sundown, the Dracs are probably on our way from Route Guano!” They stuck their head out of the car window frantically, checking for any Dracs out on the horizon.

“Just one more loop, promise,” Dunn spoke softly, catching their attention.

They sighed, “Fine, but if you get caught in a fight, I’m not helping you tonight,”

Dunn looked over at them, smirking. He knew well that they would help him anyway. After all, they’ve known each other for the past two years out in the Zones.

Grabbing the steering wheel, he quickly turned his car around and then switched into the highest gear possible. The engine seemed to roar around the both of them, like a beast trying to fight for its life. As he drifted his car to go back to their quarters, they spotted a couple of Dracs on motorcycles heading their way.

“Dang it, grab your blaster!” They quickly pulled out theirs and leaned out the window to aim at them.

Whips of rays came hurling towards them, causing them to duck back into the car for cover. Dunn grabbed the steering wheel with one hand, while the other held a ray gun pointed at the Draculoids.

After firing a couple of shots, hitting one of the five Draculoids, he pulled over on the side and got out of the car quickly. They followed suit, staying low to the ground to avoid getting hit.

Looking over the top of Dunn’s Mustang, they could see the Dracs aiming for them rapidly, firing one shot after another without remorse. His car was getting pelted with each laser that struck it, dents and burns evident.

Each close call came buzzing past them, one after another, the zap of the lasers burning the air. They could hear each missed shot hitting the ground, displacing the sand and gravel right next to them.

Quickly standing up, they fired a few shots at the Dracs, some completely missing and some hitting them directly. Dunn did the same, with a few of his shots grazing a Drac’s shoulder or leg.

As he stood up, trying to fire the final shot at the one remaining Drac, he was hit in the calf, the whir of the laser sounding past him. He dropped to the ground in pain, taking his bandana to wrap around his leg for a temporary solution.

“Damn it!” he hissed.

They quickly looked over at him, and then turned their head back towards the Drac, pulling the trigger to seal the fate of it. When the final Drac dropped to the ground, they quickly ran over to where Dunn was and checked on him.

“Dunn! Get in the car!” They slung his arm over their shoulder, helping him to get back into the car. When he tried to get into the driver’s side, they stopped him. “I’m driving, get in the backseat.”

He hesitantly limped towards the rear of his car and opened the door. Sliding into the backseat, he rested his injured leg onto his jacket that he set down so as to not get blood on the interior of his car.

They turned on the ignition and quickly shifted gears to get back to their quarters before more Dracs could arrive. The sunset seemed to fade quicker as the night sky began to loom over in the opposite direction. The Mustang sped down the road, wind rushing past them through the open windows.

Just in a few minutes, they arrived back at their quarters. It was an abandoned convenience store, considering that after the wars, no one needed groceries in this area, besides those who decided to move into the desert. Dunn’s group that formed out in the Zones spruced up the run-down place well with some trinkets and furnishings they found on the side of the road.

“Lars! Cann! We need backup!” They shouted as they got out of the car.

The two men came rushing out of the front entrance, running towards the car that was haphazardly parked in front of the building. They opened the back door and helped Dunn out of the car, leading him back into the building.

“Sit down right here,” they said as they set Dunn down on a booth chair. “I’m going to get a med kit, so don’t you think about getting up,”

“Ouch, grouchy, huh?” He chuckled as they walked away.

“I swear Dunn—”

“Hey, hey,” he laughed. “Can’t an injured man joke a bit?”

They shouted from the back storage area, “No.”

“Take it easy on Dunn,” Lars sighed. “The pain hasn’t settled yet,”

They came back out from the storage area carrying the medical supplies needed to help Dunn with his wounds.

“Do we need any more supplies like aid kits or general things?” Cann asked.

“Yeah we do,” they sighed.

As they knelt in front of him to be level with his leg, they tapped on his knee to get his attention. “Take your pants off,”

He looked at them in false offense, “My, my—” he placed his hand on his chest. “Not even going to take me out for dinner first?”

“No, Dunn.” They looked at him with a stern face. “So that I can stop you from getting an infection.”

He sighed, sliding his pants down his leg, careful not to further injure his wound. They inspected the area of injury, and luckily for Dunn, the wound wasn’t too serious.

“Okay, good news,” They said looking up at him, making eye contact, “you aren’t bleeding out severely! The heat of the laser essentially cauterized your wound as it made contact,” they explained. “Bad news, I’m still going to need to clean the wound and surrounding areas to prevent an infection.”

His smile disappeared as fast as it came. “Oh,”

“And you probably shouldn’t go on supply runs or drive for the next few days,” they added.

His shocked expression turned into sadness, “But, what am I supposed to do for the next few days? Nap? Stare at the empty desert?” he listed.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that you can’t go and fight either, that’s a high-risk activity.” They inspected his wound, still slightly bloody.

Taking an alcohol pad, they started to clean the surrounding area of the wound as Dunn started to complain and groan. “Booooring—ah!” He hissed as the alcohol grazed the wound.

“Doctor’s orders, Dunn,”

“You’re not a doctor,”

They looked up at him, a cocky smirk drawn on his face. “Neither are you,” they shrugged. When they finished cleaning and bandaging Dunn, they got up and walked to their bunk, which was just a mattress on the ground behind the counter.

“Going to sleep already?” he loudly spoke as they walked.

“Yeah, we need to go on a supply run tomorrow since we are going to be out of food here.” They turned around to look at him. “And by ‘we need to go on a supply run’ I mean I need to.”

He frowned, “You got my hopes up, darling.”

“Deal with it.”

Silence hung in the air between the both of them, with Dunn sitting in the booth all by himself, and them standing, leaning against the counter. He looked at them with the saddest eyes he could try to make, in an attempt to make them feel guilty.

“Okay you can come along but I’m driving and you are going to be the passenger princess,” they sighed caving in, resting their head in their hand.

“You’re the best.” He grinned. As he tried to get up, he limped slightly as he tried to walk to his bunk.

“Dunn—” They quickly walked over to him to help him walk.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” He chuckled as he tried to reassure them.

They scoffed. “Like hell you are,”

He hesitantly put his arm over their shoulder, allowing them to help him walk to his bunk. The night was settling down and it remained quiet outside. Once Dunn was sitting on his bed, they got up and walked to their own bunk.

He watched them as they were walking, and spoke out, “Rest well, okay?”

Turning around, they looked at Dunn, looking back at them, “You too,”

The next morning, Lars and Cann went out on a supply run, leaving a note on the counter for Dunn and them to find. They found it before he did and disappointment filled them slightly.

“Damn, should’ve let them known,” they sighed.

Dunn peeked out from the corner of his bunk, “Known what?”

They jumped at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to be up at this time of morning, “Dunn, what the hell—”

“I’m hungry,”

“Well yeah, that’s why the other two are on a supply run at the moment.”

He grumbled like a moody teenager, walking out the front door.

“Hey!” They whistled at him. “You’re injured—”

“I’m not going on a drive or anything! ‘Doctor’s orders!’” He mockingly said.

They followed after him, in case of an emergency where Dunn couldn’t defend himself. He well could, but his injury hindered him slightly. He was strong, quick-witted, and could fight a couple of Dracs on his own pretty well.

As they stepped outside, the hot desert air mixed with the radiation became slightly unbearable, their sweat sticking to their skin and clothes.

“Dunn, it is hell out here what are you doing?” They looked around, trying to spot where he was.

He stood in front of his Mustang in a white tank top covered in car oil and dirt, shirt discarded somewhere nearby. The hood of the car was propped up, and it was apparent that he was trying to work on something within his car.

“Car’s acting up, sounded a little off last night when you drove me back.” He looked up at them as if they were the cause to blame.

They stuck their hands up beside their head as if to plead innocence. “Quit lookin’ at me like that, for all I know it could’ve been the fact that some blasts smoked your car,”

Dunn looked up from under the hood of his car, his sweat making his hair stick to his forehead slightly, “That’s not how cars work,” he chuckled.

“Your car is from like what, 1967?”

“1967, but with maintenance and repairs to keep it running smoothly.”

“High maintenance,” they added. “Last time your car completely broke down was a couple of days ago near Zone 4.”

“And so did you, you’re pretty high maintenance,” he laughed.

They rolled their eyes at him and stood against the wall, watching him continue to work on his car. Dunn stood there, the sun gleaming on his skin, muscles flexing as he worked under the hood of his car.

“What’cha starin’ at?” he said teasingly.

“Making sure you don’t injure yourself again.”

“You sure that’s not just an excuse to look at me in a tank, darling?” He winked.

They groaned in annoyance while Dunn just laughed at them. “Be grateful I haven’t tried to beat some sense into you,”

“You wouldn’t do it anyway, I’m too precious to you.” He was right, and both of them knew it.

He continued to work on the car as they talked mindlessly about whatever was on their mind. Topics ranging from random anecdotes from the Zones, campfire stories and legends, to more serious things, the ‘what ifs’ of their lives.

“Remember that time you decided it would be funny to try and fight Larsy while we were out camping?

“Pfft—” He wiped his hand on a rag. “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied. “But I do remember that time where you tried riding Cann’s motorbike and fell,”

They cringed as they thought back about it. As they turned the motorbike, their center of balance was thrown off and they ended up on the ground with some scrapes on their hips, dust and dirt covering their clothes. Their body ended up being slightly bruised at the area of collision with the ground and they were sore for the next few days.

“Jeez, that was terrible,” they laughed awkwardly. “But I’m better at riding now.”

“Yeah, but can you drag race?” Dunn asked quizzically.

“Yeah, of course.” They kicked their foot into the ground idly, bringing up dust. “How else did I get the fifty-dollars for us a few months ago?”

“I don’t know,” he looked up at them, “you said you were going on a supply run? I thought you traded a crap ton of scrap metal for that,”

“No? I was racing,” they stated. “Someone bet fifty that I couldn’t beat them,”

—

It was a late summer evening that day, the sun still up in the sky pridefully. Plenty of people were racing, lined up on the side of the road, watching as fast cars and motorcycles whipped past them.

“Hey you, in the navy jacket,” someone shouted at them.

They looked over, spotting the person yelling at them. He had mid-length messy black hair, a yellow shirt, and a ripped up black jean jacket. His stature was shorter than average, but he looked to have a larger build, mostly muscle. “Yeah, you alright?”

“Me and you, race? I’ll bet fifty,”

Looking at the man in front of them, they put on a confused expression. “Why?”

“You look confident,” he shrugged.

“Alright.” They stuck out their gloved hand for him to shake. “Fifty it is.”

He shook their hand firmly, sealing the deal. “I’ll go notify Show Pony, they’ll set us up for the next race.” They nodded and waited as he walked away. Shortly after the last race finished, he ran up to them. “Snagged us a spot, follow me.” He waved his hand as he walked in the direction of the start.

Once they were at the starting line, the tension was high. They got on top of their motorbike and put their helmet on. Grabbing the handles, they leaned forward, maintaining a steady balance. Their mind raced, wondering how they were supposed to give a stranger fifty dollars if they lost the bet.

He looked over at them, as if it was going to be an easy win. “Don’t stress it, I’ll take it easy on you,” he chuckled.

They turned their eyes onto him in annoyance and returned their attention back to the stretch of road in front of them.

“Three—” Silence enveloped the desert air.

“Two—” The wind rushed past both of them, rustling the dirt.

“One—” They both revved their engines, anticipation boiling the air like the sun.

The revolver rang in their ears, signaling the start of the race. They twisted their throttle, sending them forward on the motorcycle. As they continued to accelerate, they kept their eyes forward, focusing on the end.

People cheered loudly, clapping and hollering as both vehicles ripped down the road at an insanely fast speed, most likely gaining the attention of people passing by.

The desert scenery seemed to fly right past them, disappearing and coming quickly. Adrenaline coursed through their veins as they continued down the road, engine growling beneath them. The hot sun started to make them sweat, causing their jacket to stick to their skin uncomfortably.

However, they didn’t allow that to distract them as they continued to speed up, lowering their body to reduce air resistance. As they both approached the finish line, the crowd became more loud within the final meters.

When they crossed the finish line, it seemed like he crossed it as well at the same time. Their vehicles came to a stop and they both stepped off and out of them.

Silently, they both walked back to the finish, Show Pony standing there. “I am proud to announce,”

Nervousness seeped into them. If they didn’t win then they’d owe that guy fifty dollars, which was much more than they had at hand at the moment.

“The winner of this race is—” They grabbed their hand and raised it high in the air. The crowd started to roar, hollering all sorts of complements and congratulations as he handed the money to them.

“Good one, kid.” He walked away towards his car and drove off, and they couldn’t tell if he was upset or not.

—

Dunn closed the hood of his car as he finished repairing it, listening to them telling their story. “Damn, you did all of that?” He leaned against the car, crossing his arms in front of him.

“It wasn’t much, plus we were tight on money that month,”

He looked at them with a genuine smile, “Thank you.”

They smiled back and hummed, allowing silence to overtake the both of them. The scorching sun stood at midday, beaming downwards.

“Car should be fixed now,” he broke the silence. “Should we take it on a test drive?” He asked, looking up at them.

“Yeah, let’s see how good you fixed it for now,” they chuckled.

They both got into the car, Dunn on the passenger side, and them on the driver’s. As they drove off, the car seemed to run smoothly without any strange sounds or noises coming from the engine.

“Sounds pretty good so far, right?”

Nodding their head, they continued to drive down the road. “Yup, pretty smooth.”

The slight breeze that came as they drove was refreshing compared to the sun, which seemed hotter than ever.

“I’m going to turn back,” they spoke as they turned the car around. “Don’t want to waste gas,”

He nodded in agreement as they continued to drive back to their quarters. The drive back was mostly silent, but it was quickly broken by him talking. “What if I never tried to run away? What if I stayed in Battery City?”

They turned their head, looking over at Dunn, who was sitting comfortably in his tank, now mostly covered in dust, oil, and sweat. “I don’t know,” they whispered, barely vocal over the sound of the car. “I just know that you wouldn’t be out here today.”

“Well I’m glad I ran then.” He smiled.

#nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #nhl writing #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #seattle kraken imagine #seattle kraken #vince dunn x reader #vince dunn imagine #vince dunn #danger days au

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withthewindinherfootsteps · 2 years

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Rejected, or simply unexpected? Aka debunking self-sabotaging Wei Wuxian takes, part three

People have talked a bit about this before, but fanon!Wei Wuxian has a peculiar habit of not accepting any help from others. This happens in every single scenario — even when he knows the person offering it is capable, even when it comes at no cost to them, even when not accepting said help would actually hurt other people under his care. This ties into his low self-esteem, low self-worth, believing he’s nothing but a burden to others, believing he doesn’t deserve anything… all of which is decidedly not true for Wei Wuxian in canon. But that point of view is very common in fandom circles, and it plays into a perception that Wei Wuxian doesn’t just find it hard to accept help – he doesn’t believe he deserves nice things in general.

Before we fully get into that, I think there’s one quote that encapsulates Wei Wuxian’s attitude towards help very well:

He wasn’t scared of falling. All these years, he’d fallen many times. But falling on the ground still hurt, after all. If someone was there to catch him, it’d be more than wonderful.

- Chapter 87, EXR translation

This is from the scene where Wei Wuxian climbs the tree at Lotus Pier, and is struck by a sudden urge to fall and see if Lan Wangji will catch him, so admittedly, there are a lot of emotions surrounding Lan Wangji himself that could possibly affect this. That's actually quite likely, considering how flustered he gets every time Lan Wangji does something romantic for him ("you can't say things like that, Lan Zhan! "). But I think this moment echoes what’s true throughout the book – Wei Wuxian may not expect help, but when it’s offered, he’ll take it gladly. He doesn’t he sees himself unworthy of it.

And there are a lot more moments where this pattern is repeated. He doesn’t insist on letting Lan Wangji rest the whole time in the Xuanwu’s cave despite being injured, he doesn’t feel conflicted when accepting help from Wen Ning and Wen Qing when they’re sheltering him from the rest of the Wens or when the Golden Core transfer is taking place, he doesn’t reject or feel guilty that Lan Wangji decides to stay with him after his identity is revealed! He asks if he’s sure he wants to help him, but after he confirms that he never feels horrible of that Lan Wangji made the wrong choice! Again, he didn't expect that help, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to feel bad about getting it – quite the opposite.

It’s not just accepting help, either. Particularly with Lan Wangji, he doesn’t just accept help, he actively asks for it at times (while giving the opportunity to turn it down), and that’s completely fine with him! And this isn’t with small things either, in one of these instances he’s straight up asking Lan Wangji to possibly risk his life with him at the Second Siege of the Burial Mounds:

Suddenly, Wei WuXian spoke up, “HanGuang-Jun!” Lan WangJi turned around to look at him. Wei WuXian took in a breath, “I want to do something.” The eyes of the others were led over by the conversation as well. Wei WuXian, “Will you do it with me?” Lan WangJi gazed at him. He answered, firm and articulate, “I will.” (...) Wei WuXian, “Later, when the second wave of corpses breaks in, I’m going to lead them towards the blood pool, and HanGuang-Jun will be responsible for killing them. Here,” he patted his chest, “is a target. They won’t pay any attention to you all. Don’t engage in battle, just run outside as fast as you can.”

- Chapter 82, EXR

(Though Wei Wuxian is undoubtedly confident in his and Lan Wangji’s abilities here, there is genuine danger, and it’s the corpses of the Wen Remnants that allow them to not be harmed, something he couldn’t have predicted. And I do believe he would have been able to judge the danger of the situation correctly – this wave of corpses is “bigger than the last”, and it took many more people than just Lan Wangji to fight off the smaller, previous one. Additionally, the aim here is to get everyone else out safely, not necessarily to just kill all the corpses.)

Again, there is no guilt here! And no hesitation in that, either – yes, he takes a breath before telling Lan Wangji, but because the breath is before “I want to do something” and not “will you do it with me?”, it’s safe to assume that it’s a slight pause before committing himself to putting himself in mortal danger, not because it’s hard for him to ask Lan Wangji to help him.

And yes, this is all with Lan Wangji, so you could say this is a special case because of the feelings he has towards him. I disagree, however, because there’s nothing in the rest of the novel to suggest this is the case, and he has accepted help from Wen Ning and Wen Qing, who he hardly knew at the time, with no problem. But the reason I bring this up is that so many of these Wei-Wuxian-is-hesitant-to-accept-help include Wei Wuxian being hesitant to accept help from Lan Wangji too, which is not only a problem because that’s not at all the case in the novel (see above), but also because it’s so contradictory to Wangxian as a relationship. It’s a relationship so immensely built on trust, on that being so mutual that there don’t have to be ‘thank you’s or ‘sorry’s between them, on believing and trusting in the abilities of both the other person and themselves, and simply in the other person and themselves – that having Wei Wuxian not willing to accept any help or feeling like a burden or anything in that vein, completely breaks that apart.

––

Now we’ve established that Wei Wuxian has no problem accepting help, let’s look at the two main examples people usually cite as him rejecting it. I don’t think there’s any need to mention the aftermath of Nightless City, because Wei Wuxian there is extremely traumatised and not even fully conscious.

Firstly, there are the 'examples' people talk about most — saving the Wen remnants alone, and not telling anyone about his Golden Core being gone.

Saving the Wen remnants is a curious example, because there isn't actually a moment when he rejects help, or stops himself from asking for it. The closest you can get is when he is tells Jiang Cheng to tell the world he's defected from the Jiang sect. But let’s take a closer look at that scene:

Jiang Cheng, “You burn this corpse right now and return to them all these leftovers of the Wen Sect. That’s the only way to make the subject die!” As he spoke, he raised his sword again, preparing to attack. However, Wei WuXian clenched his wrist, “Are you joking?! If we return Wen Qing and the others to them, they’d meet nothing but a dead end!”

(...)

A while later, Jiang Cheng spoke, “Wei WuXian, have you still not realized what the situation at hand is like? Do you really need me to say it out loud? If you insist on protecting them, then I won’t be able to protect you.”

Wei WuXian, “There’s no need to protect me. Just let go.” Jiang Cheng’s face twisted. Wei WuXian, “Just let go. Tell the world that I defected. From now on, no matter what Wei WuXian does, it’d have nothing to do with the YunmengJiang Sect.”

- Chapter 73, EXR

That’s not rejecting help, because help was only being if he handed in the Wen Remnants and left them to die. That’s protecting innocents – something we know Wei WuXian very often does do.

And conditional though it was, this is the only semblance of help that was even offered! The Jins and Nies certainly aren’t going to offer anything, the Lans aren’t going to make a move, and the only person who really defends him (Mianmian) does it when he’s not even there. Lan WangJi eventually decides to stand by him, but by then it’s much too late, and Wei WuXian never gets a chance to consciously accept permanent help from him here either – though it’s important to note that he had absolutely no problem with Lan WangJi helping him when he visited him in Yiling. You can’t reject help if none’s offered!

Hiding his Golden Core, meanwhile is even easier to find a likelier explanation to, because the reason is given to us! Wei Wuxian states outright that the reason he didn’t tell Jiang Cheng about the transfer was that he didn’t want him to react how he eventually did when finding out in canon. And if we want to ask why he didn’t tell him some other way and lie about the circumstances... they’re in the middle of a war right now. Not having a Golden Core is an extremely big weakness that people could and would exploit if the information somehow got out, which wouldn’t be impossible – is Wei Wuxian really going to risk that when he can hide it instead? Even after the war ends, it’s the same situation. Wei Wuxian is not stupid in any sense of the word, he’s entirely the opposite. He knows he’s in a socially vunerable position, he knows people have very negative opinions of him because of his use of guidao, he knows any ‘respect’ they show towards him is due to fear. He also knows there are people like Jin Guangshan who’d probably like to use that power for themselves (situation with the Yin Tiger Tally, anyone?), and very much not for good, so he’s not letting that happen. Telling anyone about his Core being gone and risking the information getting out means people can and would exploit that information and take advantage of it, so there’s an extremely good reason for not doing so, that does not have any connection to the act of accepting help. And in addition to that, the loss of his core is painful to dwell on – he admits that in his thoughts at the Guanyin Temple. Why force yourself to talk about it when there’s the opportunity to just... not? And if we’re talking post-timeskip, that information is pretty much irrelevant to anything going on, so there’d be no reason to bring that up at all.

So I think it’s safe to say that in both these situations, the act of accepting or rejecting help isn’t really a factor – or at least not one large enough to consider.

(And if anyone has any other situations where it seems Wei Wuxian is rejecting help and there’s not a clear alternate explanation as to why, please reblog or send me an ask with your thoughts. The whole point of analysis is discussion!)

––

So at last, let’s get to the underlying ‘issue’ – that Wei WuXian, apparently, doesn’t believe he des

Since this is a belief and not a reactionary trait, it’s a bit harder to find anything directly proving or disproving it. However, we can infer from the way he acts that this is not the case. Take a look at what he does in canon:

He frequently flirts friendlily with others, almost always as a way to get something for himself , whether it’s loquats, medicinal perfume pouches, or something else (I say almost always because Lan Wangji exists, of course)*.

He frequently takes things from the stalls around Lotus Pier, which he’s allowed to do... because the money is paid by Yunmeng Jiang instead. He knows this, and he knows he’s allowed to, and does he ever feel guilt? No! Quite the opposite, actually:

Wei WuXian took a bite, “Back then, I didn’t even have to pay when I ate at the dock. I grabbed whatever I wanted, ate whatever I wanted; ran after I grabbed, walked as I ate. A month later, the vendor would get the reimbursement from Uncle Jiang.”

Chapter 86, EXR

He takes Lan Wangji’s money and uses it to buy things for himself on more than one occasion – and the first few times it isn’t even given to him, he just takes it!

In addition to this, in his early childhood he always used to give a “genuine smile that showed how happy he was” whenever somebody gave him a bun or something else to eat, according to a comment by MXTX . None of those point to him not believing he should have nice things, he takes them for himself all the time! And just like when he’s offered help, he’s happy when they’re offered to him!

Now, there is a period people could use in an argument against this, and that’s when Wei Wuxian first arrives at Lotus Pier, so let’s talk about that. Because yes, he is shy, he is very hesitant. And that could easily be interpreted as young Wei WuXian struggling to accept the he’s been given. But in the same comment, MXTX actually talked a bit about that period of his life, and this is what she said:

“Then at Lotus Pier, for the first month, he daren’t use too much water for a bath. He wouldn’t dare to eat too much, afraid that he’d be too expensive for JFM. Then afterwards…

He completely let go and went wild.”

To me, that sounds more of a case where he’s scared he’ll get thrown out of Lotus Pier if he’s too difficult for Jiang Fengmian, and so acts in a way to prevent that happening. And when he’s confident it won’t happen? He stops doing that, and starts acting like... well, himself. It’s an emotionally driven tactic, not a case of feeling unable to accept the nice things that are happening (and adjusting to an entirely new place with entirely new people must have played a role in it, too).

I think the confusion here comes from “believing good things/help/etc are deserved” being mixed up with “expecting good things/help/etc to be given”. Wei WuXian doesn’t expect nice things, or at least nice things given freely and unprompted – and really, why would he? But that does not mean he has trouble accepting them, and it does not mean he believes himself unworthy of them. There are no self-esteem issues at work here, it’s simply him expecting what was a pattern from the entirety of his childhood.

Finally, I want to speculate a bit about what Wei Wuxian’s attitude towards help actually is, and why it is that way. Because there was a quote that stood out to me recently, when reading through the Cloud Recesses arc for this meta, and that’s Wei Wuxian’s reaction when Nie Huaisang offers to copy his lines for him:

Nie HuaiSang quickly spoke, “I’ll copy for you! I’ll copy for you!” Wei WuXian, “No good person does favours for others out of the blue. Tell me, what do you want me to do?”

He defaults to seeing help of any sort as an exchange: people may offer help, but they won’t give it freely. And that's treated as a simple fact of life, not tied to any self-based issues, because that’s simply the way things have always been for him – he’s never been freely given help with no strings attached. Even when he’s taken off the streets by Jiang Fengmian, a close friend of both his parents whose life was saved by one of them, that means he’s indebted to Yunmeng Jiang, it can’t exist as a kind action in and of itself.

And the sad thing is that, most of the time, he’s right. He was right in this scenario, he’s right about how things are in the cultivation world at large, because the world of MDZS isn’t a nice place, and it’s definitely not nice to the so-called “son of a servant”.

That’s why I specified not expecting help given freely and unprompted. Because he isn’t especially surprised at help, with strings attached – to an exchange of favours. Even flirting with people for loquats has the same roots: he gives them his charms and flattering words and a smile, and they give him what he asked for in return.

And that’s why he’s so surprised and happy when people like Lan Wangji offer that kind of help to him, where nothing is expected in return – where he’ll simply be caught if he falls, with nothing else tied to it. That’s one of the reasons he’s so happy in a relationship with him, because there are no ‘pleases’ and ‘thank-you’s and exchanges.

Wei Wuxian likes being helped, he likes being pampered and treated well – there’s no element of “I don’t deserve this” in there. He just simply hasn’t been given enough chances to expect it.

#...these are getting longer and longer aren't they #debunking fanon wei wuxian the series #my meta #mdzs meta #wei wuxian #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #gdc #also thanks very much to grewlikefancyflowers for the link to the interview/comment!

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firefighterrojas · 1 month

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HOZIER TOO SWEET

i aim low / i aim true, and the ground's where I go / i work late where i'm free from the phone / and the job gets done / but you worry some, i know / but who wants to live forever, babe?

#soundtrack #Spotify

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itripandfallalot · 6 months

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trick or treat :D (you had to know this was coming)

A snippet from my big bang!!!

Lockwood looked at me. His eyes were gleaming, and I knew exactly why. Here was all his planning and scheming, and it was coming together, positioning him exactly where he wanted to be. It was hard not to admire him—he was strategic and bold and wanted the best for everyone. I didn’t care that he thought he had a responsibility to his parents and their legacy, because I knew deep down that even if none of that were true, he’d do this anyway. Under the low lights that bounced off the stone, Lockwood seemed to glow.

"Ready, Luce," he asked?

I nodded.

"Are you ready, Luce?" A voice mimicked us, and I looked right into the eyes of Leopold Winkman, who stood glaring at us, his big beefy arms flexed menacingly.

He grabbed my wrist and threw me against the wall just as I was reaching for the silver netting to expose a pile of bones. My back hit stone hard, and I felt the breath leave my lungs. My vision went black, and I became disoriented. Instinctively, I reached for my belt and my rapier, which right, weren’t bloody there.

I heard scuffling, grunts, and swearing, as I fell to my knees reeling with pain. I finally stopped blacking out and looked up to see Lockwood and Leopold wrestling on the ground. Shaken, I watched, as Lockwood got free, sprung to his feet and aimed a kick below Leopold’s belt. Leopold grunted in pain but reached out wildly for Lockwood's feet. Lockwood easily dodged and wiped at his nose, which was bleeding. His wig lay on the floor, abandoned.

Despite the fact that it looked like Leopold had gotten in a punch, he looked far worse. There was already a bruise forming around Leopold's right eye, and his lip was cut open and swollen. Lockwood stuck a hand down his trousers and pulled a knife from god knows where. He bent down and placed a knee on Leopold's chest, who writhed on the ground.

"I fucking swear, I will cut you open if you try that bloody shit again," Lockwood said, holding the knife to Leopold’s throat.

Leopold tried to sit up, but Lockwood pushed the knife against Leopold’s neck. Blood beaded at the point of the blade. His eyes still on Leopold, Lockwood addressed me. "Okay, Luce?" He asked. His voice was mild, as if he were talking about the weather.

"Yes," I croaked.

"Good," Lockwood said gently. He spoke to Leopold, his voice dangerously rough, "I am going to give you five seconds to run, because all hell is about to break lose. If you try anything," Lockwood said, pressing the knife further into Leopold’s neck, drawing more blood, "And I mean anything, I will kill you.’

"You wouldn’t," Leopold said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Trust me, I would," Lockwood said, his knee pressing into Leopold’s chest, making him wheeze. "And I’d wouldn’t give it a second thought, do you understand?"

Leopold nodded. Lockwood continued to look at him and said to me, his voice calm and gentle, "Lucy, I think now would be as good of time as any if you can manage." His voice turned rough again, as he dug his knee even harder into Leopold. "Your five seconds start now."

Lockwood leapt off of Leopold, drew close to me, and hauled me to my feet, his eyes still trained on Leopold as he sprinted away from us.

"Bloody stupid running technique," Lockwood said. Then looking at me, he nodded, and we tore the silver netting off the bones.

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #locklyle

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horizonthetransient · 9 months

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On Lightning Bolts And Science Fiction/Fantasy

Or, “Chainmail won’t protect you from a thunderstorm, but it will protect you from a Sith.”

So, in real life, there are these things called Tesla Coils. They’re these big electric machines that shoot off little bolts of high-voltage, low-current lightning. These days, everything practical they can do can be done better by something else, so they’re pretty much solely decorative, but damn if they aren’t still good at that. One thing that you might like to see are some dudes dancing with Tesla Coils while wearing chainmail suits. Go on, click the link. I’ll wait for you.

As you can see in the video, electricity follows the path of least resistance. Metal has way less electrical resistance than human flesh, and so if electricity can flow through metal instead of flesh, it will. These men, who are wearing chainmail suits, are pretty much impossible to hurt with tesla coils, because instead of the electricity going through their nerves and organs, it’ll always go through the far-more-conductive metal instead.

Now, if you’re anything like me, you may be thinking “hey, shouldn’t this mean that my D&D character who wears a suit of metal armor should be more defended against lightning, not less?” And I think you’re right! But alas, if you actually voice this opinion, you will likely be met with a common counterargument:

“A lightning bolt has like a zillion megawatts of power! Even with metal armor, it’d deafen you, blind you, and probably burn you by overheating your metal armor!”

And... to me, this is like arguing that kevlar can’t stop bullets, because high-explosive artillery can put six foot craters in the ground. Part of what you’ve said is true, but you’re grossly mischaracterizing the sort of weapons people can use in small-scale fights without killing everyone in the room, themselves included, based purely on sensationalist trivia.

Now, yes, a real lightning bolt from a thunderstorm won’t really care about what personal defenses you have, but that same lightning bolt will also seriously injure anyone within five paces, including the spellcaster who shot it from their fingertips. Considering that Sith and Wizards don’t typically go deaf immediately after shooting lightning at people, I feel safe in concluding that they’re not using that kind of power.

I think it’s also worth talking about what power means in the context of electricity, because as it turns out this is a formally defined term that is quite relevant to the question of “how bad will this kill you?” In electrical terms, power (measured in watts) is the product of voltage and current (measured in amps). And as any electrician can tell you, it’s the amps that kill you. Voltage, meanwhile, is what determines how wide of an air gap the lightning can cross; considering how unconductive thin air is, you need a lot of voltage if you want to shoot lightning at people from any distance whatsoever, and that means you need more power, unless you cut down on the amps.

Fortunately, you totally can cut down on the amps and still have a viable weapon! It only takes six or seven milliamps through the heart to kill someone, and a tenth of an amp if you don’t feel like having super precise aiming. And in all honesty, this maps to lightning attacks in most speculative fiction pretty well- where it always hurts like a bitch, but isn’t always horrendously lethal.

However, that kind of low current is bad news for the “chainmail would just cook you in your armor!” gang, because resistive heating, the phenomenon that makes electricity heat things up, only cares about resistance and current. High voltage isn’t going to do jack shit for resistive heating, and steel wire of the thickness you’d want for making chainmail is plenty capable of handling a measly tenth of an amp. It’s typically about as thick as the wires in your walls, and those can safely handle fifteen or twenty amps before they start to get uncomfortably warm. Sure, that’s copper and chainmail is steel, but chainmail is also a lot of steel, and the fact that there’s literal thousands of rings in a chainmail suit does in fact significantly increase the amount of current that can safely be handled.

So, in conclusion? Unless your fantasy lightning wand produces lightning so powerful that it should seriously injure the user (in which case nobody would want to use it), conductive metal armor 100% would protect the wearer from lightning attacks. This isn’t to say that lightning weapons should logically be useless in speculative fiction- there are plenty of contexts in which people would not be wearing metal armor, where lightning remains a perfectly serviceable way of killing people horrifically. But this is to say that I’m sick of people acting like wearing metal armor is useless at best and suicidal at worst when the other guy has a lightning spell. Knock that shit off.

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