#deny those bastards their crits

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

i really miss your eddie fics ))):

You’re both laying perpendicular across Eddie’s musky, unmade bed, legs hanging off the edge at the knees, passing a joint back and forth with a coffee can ashtray nestled at your hip. Eddie’s curls are a damp tangle around his head after his midnight shower, tickling your bare shoulder in a chilly itch heightened by the fuzzy sensitivity of the weed. It’s a chill Saturday night, not too different from all the rest, except tonight, you got stood up by your date and elected to hit Eddie’s place earlier than intended, bereft of a good dicking (or any dicking).

And as usual, with the weed mixing messily with pent-up hormones, you both end up complaining about your sex lives. You didn’t have much of one, and Eddie… Well… He never got further than one-night stands.

“I dunno…” you muse over his last comment, “I feel like it’s common knowledge that every dude regularly gets morning wood. You’re not special.”

“Other dudes don’t get them like this,” he complains, taking a hit off the joint before talking through the lungful, “I swear to Christ, I could bludgeon an ogre with. One roll and BAM! Crit hit.”

“Okaaaay, so they’re big beefy boners. So what?”

Eddie releases a bullish exhale of smoke, snorting quietly, “So what is that my hand just doesn’t cut it. I need some succubus to suck me off before I wake up, or… uh, scratch that, you don’t wanna hear about this shit. Sorry…”

You shrug, elbow knocking his own, “No, it’s cool. Makes sense you’d fantasize about getting woken up with a blowjob. I wouldn’t mind the same most morning… of course, by that, I mean a dude eating me out and not sucking my dick since… ya know, I don’t have one of those.”

“I’m well aware of that, baby. I’ve shared a bed with you hundreds of times.”

“Not hundreds…” you mutter, “and what does that even prove?” 

Eddie breaks out in a cheshire grin. “Cause if you had a dick, I’d have felt it already. You cuddle when you're stoned, and the shit you say in your sleep? Fuck, you’re a total deviant.”

You don’t deny the deviancy part but give his profile a glare; his face is still cracked in a big smile, eyes closed as he sneaks in another hit before blindly wiggling the half-smoked joint for you to grab. He’s disgustingly pretty at this angle, with pink puffy lips, a kissable nose, and heavy lashes teasing his flushed cheeks. Shame he’s not into you, ‘cause you’d straddle him in a heartbeat rather than waste anymore effort on Hawkins’ bachelors. There may have been a decent supply of single men around town, but none of them were like Eddie—none of them liked the same music you did, appreciated your weird art, or could quote-converse Tolkein with you as he could.

Frowning, you take the joint Eddie waves in your direction and suck in a lungful of earthy skunk, “So, hang on… you’re saying I’ve been a perv in my sleep, and you never said anything?”

“I’m a gentleman.”

You scoff, “Yeah, tell that to the boners I’ve had to bat away while you’ve been dreaming of… what, cheerleaders? No, I bet money on Madeline Kahn.”

“I haven’t had a wet dream about cheerleaders since middle school, and who doesn’t find Miss Scarlet hot? Calm your tits, princess—and I woulda known if you were swatting at my dick. Liar.”

You shrug, ignoring his snicker at your lack of any witty retort. The smug bastard probably would wake up the second a feather ghosted over his dick, given how fast he came when he popped his cherry a year ago. Eddie really screwed up confessing that one ‘cause you quickly buried down the heartache by calling him a two-pump chump for a whole month afterward.

“Man,” Eddie sighs dramatically, “waking up with lips around my dick sounds like heaven.”

“No, shit. That’s what I’ve been saying all night! Where have you been?”

“High. But seriously, men are horn dogs; that is common knowledge. It’s just like… I dunno; the mechanics are different than waking your girlfriend up with head, or a good dick down. It’s way easier to sneak attack a dick than some girl’s pussy.”

“Pff,” you blow out a burning hit and roll over on your side, facing Eddie’s curl-smothered profile. He’s staring up at the ceiling now, looking stoned and relaxed, something that brings you all the happiness in the world after the better part of the year bringing so much chaos and stress. “So you’re telling me if your girlfriend wanted it, you wouldn’t give her a down-low kiss good morning.”

His devious grin is absolutely infectious. 

“Oh, I’d do more than that…” 

“Hot,” you deadpan, taking a second hit since he snuck two in on his pass, then rest your hand on his chest, joint perched between thumb and forefinger.

Eddie pushes his chin to his chest, brows raised, and takes the splif, hitting it with a fizzle of burning paper. His gaze drifts to you when he exhales the smoke, glassy chocolates gleaming with affection. “You're crashing here tonight, right?”

“If you’ll have me,” you whisper, eyes fluttering sleepily in a way that have you missing the blush that stains Eddie’s cheeks at your words. “I’m waaay too high to drive home.”

“You live next door, dumbass,” it’s said with a smile that makes you snuggle up until your nose touches his arm.

“Must have forgotten how to walk then,” you laugh, then sit up on an elbow, looking down at Eddie’s dopey expression. “Hey, you got something clean for me to sleep in? I don’t wanna wear this stupid dress to bed.”

His eyes rake down the tight, leather-buckled dress like he’s seeing it for the first time. It doesn’t escape your notice the way his gaze lingers on the hem digging into your upper thighs, then the dip where it shows off a light swell of cleavage, but… he’s a man, and men are horn dogs like he said.

“Why?” Eddie asks, genuinely confused, “Afraid it’s gonna ride up in the night, and you’ll wake up with your best friend’s boner in your ass?”

“… no?” Though you wouldn’t mind in the slightest. “But it’s sorta tight and… ugh—“ you toss yourself on your back with a bounce, groaning into the hazy bedroom, “—can you believe I got stood up after putting on makeup AND this dress?” 

You turn your head and huff indignantly. “All this effort for no beef. I swear my luck is total dog shit.”

“Well,” Eddie shrugs, “it’s his loss.” 

He smiles, rolling to face you. “I’m the one with a hot babe in his bed, not what’s his name.” Eddie wags his brows, earning him a jab in the shoulder that he takes like a total bitch, rolling over melodramatically until his back hits the headboard, clutching his shoulder with a hammy grimace of pain that’s too fucking cute. Stop being so cute, Munson! 

“Quit being a chode and get this hot babe something to wear or she’s dragging her fine ass home,” you threaten, then add with your limp hand poised over your forehead, “through the cold!—and rain!—and five feet of snow or whatever! If I get the sniffles, you know I’ll kill you.”

“I’m too cozy,” Eddie hugs himself in his nook against the headboard, mimicking your earlier pout, “Just grab whatever’s in the laundry basket.”

“I’m not wearing your dirty clothes, Munson.”

“They’re clean. Relatively,” he adds, “just didn’t wanna fold clothes on a Saturday.”

“More like ever. But, whatever. Fine.” You wiggle off the bed, absentmindedly tugging the hem of your dress back down the exposed curve of your ass cheeks, totally oblivious to your best bud Eddie nearly biting clean through his tongue to hold down a groan at the sight. Not like he hasn’t seen you in a bikini or your panties a few times. Plus, the two of you had a bad habit in senior year (all three of his) of letting your laundry pile up until you were hanging wet clothes in your last pair of underwear behind his trailer. So, yeah… you don’t think about whether the dress or its relative shortness has given him a boner or not.

It totally has…

“Oooh, found the best one!” You triumphantly hold up his Hellfire shirt, turning around to find him gripping a pillow in his lap, glaring at you beneath his frizzy bangs. When his eyes shift to the shirt in your hands, he does a double take and blushes. Weird. 

“Can you crank up the heat, Dungeon Master?” You snicker, wiggling his infamous shirt for emphasis before fishing for some clean boxers only to find none. Panties it is then, you shrug, waltzing out of his bedroom without a single thought to the human tomato white-knuckling his pillow on the bed.

You and Eddie have always been close, almost obnoxiously so, in a way that was meant to make everyone else around you hem and haw. This wasn’t any different from your usual, but Eddie gulps once you peace out of the room to the bathroom, wondering how the fuck he’s gonna sleep without duct-taping his dick to his stomach…

You’re rubbing lipstick off when the rattle of the heater kicks on, making more than warmth rise up from the floor grate, kissing your ankle and your heart. It’s the little things someone does that always hit the hardest, you think. 

After getting most of the cherry stain off, leaving your lips raw, you yell ‘thank you’ through the wood panel door, smiling when Eddie hisses like Gollum on his way back to the bedroom. Dork.

His Hellfire shirt sits on your upper thighs, just below your ass, the same as the dress had, except it’s not pinching your ribs or tits. The well-worn fabric smells like him… with the barest hint of detergent, but mostly him. Honestly, whether he actually washed it or not is up for debate, but it still smells good… like really good—good enough that your pussy pulses. 

You take a moment to lift it off your soft tits and give it a whiff. The aroma of weed, old spice aftershave, and fresh linen makes you wet, panties going damp. For a moment, you pretend to be wearing his shirt under a different, more sexy scenario just to feel your heartbeat kick up in your clit. It’s always been wild how horny Eddie makes you… but alas, you talk a good game but are a coward at heart. It would take a single honest question to figure out what he feels for you, but the idea terrifies you like nothing else. 

After readjusting your panties and Eddie’s shirt, you decide to save the eye makeup scrubbing for the morning. Not like your best buddy hasn’t seen you with raccoon eyes a few times, or the rare teary-eyed mascara streaks.

Back in the musky bedroom, Eddie is already in bed, arms behind his head, one leg propped up under the covers… and he’s fucking whistling like the epitome of cartoon innocence. Seriously, Jerry Mouse was more saint-like than Eddie looked right now…

“What did you do?”

Eddie’s eyes twitch but doth move from whatever stain on the ceiling has his attention, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never done a wrong thing in my life.”

You exhale a sleepy laugh and dive into his cramped bed, immediately digging beneath the covers. Eddie makes a sound—a low whine—and snatches his half of the covers before they can slide off his waist. It’s toasty warm now, thanks to the rattling heater, but you figure he’s still acclimating like a weirdo. Sometimes the dude runs way too hot, while other times, it’s like his body goes into dormancy, and he’ll try to suck up as much heat as possible, even if it means jamming his icy toes behind your knees. Thankfully, it seems he’s just being greedy about the blanket this time, so you relent and throw yourself on your back, trying to find the gestaltism in the water stain above the bed.

Eventually, Eddie drops his knee and deflates, hands on his chest, fingers tapping a tune into his ratty Megadeth shirt. 

“So…” he hollows out the word, “… you gonna give Brandon another shot?”

“Huh?” You turn your head, finding Eddie still gazing up at the ceiling. Is he serious? “Umm… fuck no. I have some standards. Besides, I’m not hurting that bad for dick.”

“... no?”

“Well, it’s been a… while, but—anyway, my hand works just fine for now,” you blush a bit, still feeling that throb between your legs, which only gets worse when you realize Eddie is literally right next to you, in bed… while you’re in your panties and his shirt and nothing else, “... anyway, I’d sooner have you drive me to Fort Wayne for a vibrator. They have a sex shop there, right?”

“Pretty sure they got one on the thirty before Columbia,” Eddie says, the words coming out a little high despite him being… well, high. Despite the giddy pulse of arousal still wetting your panties, you're far too tired to wonder what his deal is.

“Well, whatever…” you yawn and cuddle into one of two lumpy pillows laden with Eddie’s aromatic shampoo and sweat, “as long as I’ve got you, some weed, and my health, I’m fine.”

“Me?” He gulps. 

“Mhm,” you nod, eyes closed, nosing his pillow, “Yeah, you, ya freak.”

Eddie doesn't say a word, which is sorta weird cause he never shuts up, but you're warm, stoned, and happy, which are things almost impossible not to feel with your very best friend in the whole wide world. Regardless of how bad you wanna fuck him, this is the best; just cuddling up with the soft bandana high surrounding you, absorbing all the faint and strong smells stuck in Eddie’s bed… wrapped in his shirt. 

“Now,” you sigh, smiling, “if only you were into me, then I’d be set.”

The metalhead beside you clutches his shirt in your hazy view, chest coming to a halt as you murmur, “I’d have you, dick, weed… and like, all the hit points,” another yawn, “… might even improve my questionable mental health too.”

“Jesus Christ, it’s warm in here.” You kick the blanket down your shoulders, letting in a little more air, and sigh into sleep. “Don’t worry; you don’t have to crush my dreams, m’just gonna… pass out… night, Eddie.”

(I tease...)

#ask #anon #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson best friend #fanfic #WIP #work in progress #it's like half way done?

[imperatoralicia]

I admire video games’ longstanding dedication to the notion that if you don’t see an arrow or bullet coming then it somehow hurts like 10x worse than it normally would.

#video games #sneak attacks #fallout #elder scrolls #skyrim #just always be on the lookout for projectiles #deny those bastards their crits

[ruby-whistler]

There are three types of misinterpretation of c!Dream in my opinion; and by that I mean anyone's take ever, whether it's a c!Dream anti or a c!Dream apologist or a c!Dream enthusiast. That's right, I'm making an essay about how in my mind everyone is wrong. This is how I lead debates please don't unfollow me-

1. misunderstanding or overdramatizing evidence

c!Dream apologists; g-guys. I'm not saying he isn't traumatized, but look. I really used to believe he was just everyone's victim and hurt and mentally unstable, and I'm not saying he isn't at all, but I changed my mind because I feel like the evidence doesn't,, point that way at all. Your emotions are valid, but your takes are very removed from what the rest of the fandom thinks because you take little hints and try to make them into some big angsty point within canon.

The evidence we have proves he is more ruthless than anything; even the content creator says that. He doesn't say why he does progressively more ruthless things, and he does say it's for his ideals and out of good intentions, but he doesn't say anything about him being hurt into doing it.

I'm not saying he isn't hurt. But making analysis of an entire character based on something that is barely supported by canon isn't the way I roll and I feel like it's one of the reason why people assume all c!Dream apologist are going to woobify the character,, because some of them really do that.

I don't mind portraying him as hurt by what's happened in canon, because that is a completely safe conclusion, but jumping to the victim side of the scale seems a little bit like painting a completely different picture than what actual canon says. (Note: talking about pre-Pandora c!Dream here.)

There is tragedy in someone being driven by the environment, circumstances and themselves deeper and deeper into corruption, but it feels like by only considering that the entire character is limited to one side of the argument.

I like to also see the side of him that will hurt people because he thinks he has to, because he wants to succeed above all, the side that will ruthlessly murder and manipulate and be calculative and clever and even self-destructive about it because he believes that'll get him towards his ultimately selfless goal.

That's my morally complex bastard.

A lot of people seem to be mistaking or ignoring that for the sake of saying he is just... hurt and that that is an explanation of his actions, and even though they don't use it as an excuse, it feels a little cheap.

And here we come to the core of the problem: an emotional vs. rational explanation for the character's actions.

Because the thing is, with enough evidence, you will see that nearly (we'll get to that in a bit) everything he does can be explained rationally. Everything is connected, everything is the most logical and efficient and merciless route straight from point A to point B, because c!Dream is fascinatingly smart when you look deeper into it.

He knows what he's doing. He knows his actions are awful, and he doesn't care - not because he would be some evil person, but because his mindsets cause him to justify such things, and mindsets are more complicated than feelings.

There is a lot to explore in that direction of the character, but that is material for another essay.

In short, people seem to enjoy removing all of his agency in favor of explaining his actions emotionally rather than from a rational standpoint which results in inaccurate analysis.

Do I think it is completely understandable he attacked L'Manberg?

Absolutely.

Do I think c!Wilbur painted him as a villain to benefit his own power?

Yes.

Do I think he utilized the villain persona as an intimidation tactic and often went overkill with no regard for anything but accomplishing his goals and that he slowly became more and more willing to do bad things of his own accord because he became determined and distrusting of the world to the point of committing horrible actions?

100%.

Analysing that part of the character is the most interesting part, when you consider it - and an important one as well.

2. ignoring evidence

c!Dream antis; please. Stop saying he doesn't care or explaining his actions with obsession or assigning him personality traits or motives that he literally doesn't have in order to demonize him I beg of you.

It's so many basic and easily debunkable assumptions that can be explained with what we actually know of his motives. People will ignore both canon and the authors' words to paint him as some monster with no nuance, which he is not.

We only know so much about him, but people will ignore and deny even the little bit we have for the sake of making him the literal personification of evil and erasing the fact that he is a complex and human character. Just accept he can be accurately analysed beyond hate and let people do it if you don't want to do so yourself.

3. assuming the evidence we have is everything you need to determine a final approach and that nothing outside of the presented evidence exists when certain details prove otherwise

c!Dream enthusiasts; this was the only and biggest problem I've had since being introduced to much more rational interpretations of the character - which is emotions, and one of the biggest reasons why c!Dream gets dehumanized in the first place; the fact that we have little to no showcase or explanation of them in canon.

You see, c!Dream is a reserved character. He likes withholding his plans, withholding his feelings and information from the world.

However, since all we can really get out of watching his actions alone is the rational side (and that is deliberate by both the writer and the character, narratively and personality-wise) people slowly begin to assume there is no emotional side to his actions at all.

Which I find,, untrue. Between the people who erase the rational side of the character and those who erase the emotional side, there is little middle ground, but I don't really find either of them right either.

Because neither would be an accurate representation; just because he doesn't actively showcase his feelings doesn't mean he doesn't have them, and the few inconsistencies that are too small a detail for us to put everything together show that he does have an inner emotional world beyond what we see.

The character does work beyond what we know, and expecting that everything can be explained purely by rationality because that's all we see of him seems a little bit jumping the gun.

It leads to a less person-like view of a character who in reality simply doesn't like showing people the way he feels, and I don't really find that fair to him. It is best to accept there are things we can't say for sure, or to say an emotional interpretation can also be valid at times.

It is both important not to deny him agency and not to deny him the ability to be genuinely hurt by others or changed by his environment.

Both of these can coexist, especially in

the correct interpretation

Ok this is a joke.

I have literally no idea. I'm just throwing stuff at the wall and seeing what sticks - he confuses me beyond belief. The only person who knows about both the emotional and rational side of the character enough to have their interpretation unquestioned is cc!Dream - but when we do try to find answers, it is important for us as well that we do not ignore any aspects or possible aspects of the character, because that is the only way to get useful results out of our analysis.

Sorry this was crit of basically every take about the character I have ever seen but I needed to get my thoughts out.

#dream smp #c!dream #ask to tag as crit #long post #idk i'm big on the c!dream pos #but woobification & dehumanization & demonization are #all equally a problem in the fandom #with the character

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

TF2 Concept

“Sweetheart-attacks”

- - - -

Concept: The other classes rag on the use of crit-a-cola and BONK!

Concept: The Scouts let them try it… and chaos ensues, because no one else was really prepared to taste something that radioactively sugary. Shot-glasses for safety.

Or the feeling of it wearing off.

[Both teams]

“I’m pretty sure this is what a heart-attack having a heart-attack feels like” gasps BLU Engie. His duplicate just gasping in response, beyond speech for the moment.

RED Pyro is running in circles, screaming through the mask; then stops, falls to their knees and face plants. BLU Pyro is cartwheeling, and screaming, it’s unclear if they’re enjoying the sensation or not.

BLU Sniper stares at the empty glass in horror before running out the door as fast as those lanky legs could take him. Not feeling real at all. His RED opposite following along behind only seconds later; not in control of his body whatsoever.

RED Medic shoots past his team’s marksman, eyes wide and fearful at the explosion of energy filling him up from inside; he’s the second-fastest on the team, and easily surpasses BLU Sniper. Only his own opposite on BLU, keeps pace; with one of the Scouts jogging after both the medical men to make sure they don’t hit anything while aimlessly zipping about.

BLU Heavy seems to shake in place like he’s going to explode, bellowing at the heart-racing sensation. It is entirely unsettling to him despite being enured to the physiological changes wrought by Ubercharges. He does run a little, but motion makes him feel ill; and he stops. RED Heavy concurs, but chooses to expel the energy by smashing things.

RED Demo just lets out a scream for a full eight seconds, and disappears, kilt flailing in the wind. No one has any clue where to find the BLU demolitions expert, but his scream is echoing from somewhere in the region. They’d look in a minute.

BLU Soldier lets out a SCREAMING EAGLES and starts digging a hole as fast as he can, like a jackhammer. RED frogmarches around the base in record time, saluting as he does so. At least they’re contained, thinks the remaining Scout.

RED Spy sips, cloaks, and goes for an awkward jog. Feeling all his muscles spasming at once is entirely unpleasant. BLU Spy cloaks in order to complete a series of acrobatics he would deny he had performed, with his dying breath. It doesn’t feel like enough… too much. Too much energy thrumming through their veins.

And then it stops. Dead.

Heartbeats snap back to normal, bodies lose that tingling thrill. The fireworks stop.

Some collapse, some go pale and sweaty, others gasp and grab onto things to stay upright.

“Vhat zhe hell is that?” gasps RED Medic, clinging to a nearby fence as the Scout who’d accompanied them helped BLU Medic stumble back.

“Fastest radioactive sugar rush of ya life, huh pal?” he grins.

“Why do I feel like death is coming?” BLU Spy asks, hands shaking violently as his entire body breaks out in a cold sweat. “Mon dieu, I need a shower!”

RED Spy is fruitlessly trying to smoke the jitters away, but can’t seem to hold the cigarette in his trembling fingers, and gives up.

“Feel like it? Lad, I c’n see the ruddy Reaper bastard looming over me’ body right now!” shouts RED Demoman, sprawled on the ground with no intention of moving ever again.

“It ain’t that bad all the time, just gotta get used to it, right?” explains his Scout, patiently, gently, and with an air of teasing that was directly attributed to sweet, sweet payback. He recalled how Demo had patronisingly treated him the first time he’d gotten drunk.

“Oh no, never again. Son, I want to die in my sleep and not from whatever this is.” BLU Engie gasps, propped up against his opposite number, and clutching his chest. Winded.

“Aw Engie, live a little. Now, any’a ya wanna try it again out on the field? ‘Cause I can show ya how to dodge sentry bullets if ya want…” BLU Scout beams.

“Nein. Dear gott im himmel, nein, junge. I vould prefer the sweet release of death itself…” chokes RED Medic, slumping to the ground beside his Heavy. BLU Medic has flopped onto the ground, and does not seem to wish to move; his Heavy comes to him.

The Soldiers are… still going. Maybe that’s what they were like, anyways. They’ll tucker themselves out soon enough.

BLU Sniper and his RED counterpart are still upright and acting as if they weren’t dying inside, probably by virtue of growing up in Australia. They still threw the Scouts disgruntled looks now and then, clearly stating that they were NOT pleased with events.

Scouts are laughing.

“Dude I think yer Pyro’s dead… wait, no, asleep.” BLU Scout prods the RED arsonist.

“Well, your Demo’s screaming in our base’s pantry and that aint good. He uh, he got any pants we can put on him?” RED asks, tentatively.

“Sorry but nah.” apologises the BLU, shuddering. He’d seen far too much, far too often, to be quite certain about that fact.

They take stock of their downed teammates with such dispassionate gazes, it’s almost startling to behold their ire.

“Seriously? Get up. Everyone. If this was in battle, ya still gotta keep going. Ain’t that whatcha always shoutin’ at us?” RED calls, shaking the classes closest to him, some hesitantly attempt to rise, but most whine and groan in response.

“Not so easy, huh? Takes some getting used to, that’s fer damn sure.” BLU offers, slightly more sympathetic than his own counterpart. “Alright, but come over ta the testing ground and we’ll try again. Easier if ya already running abit when ya take a sip.”

They do it. Works better. Scouts outpace all by ages, Medics are close behind though.

Same results.

“Alright, that’s enough. Everyone breathe best ya can… and then apologise fer all the shit ya heap on us scouts when it comes ta bonk-related stuff, and we’ll show-ya something cool.”

Instructs to set up two sentries (both engies).

Everyone takes a taste of BONK again, and the Scouts sip theirs. Everyone can see the superspeed boost as they move, throwing themselves oddly acrobatically, through the air dodging bullets with ease, and hitting the floor unmarked as the spies sap both sentries to save them.

“See? Can be fun too!”

“Don’t ever do zhat again, I vas having a coronary vatching you und thinking about your imminent death.”

“AW doc, ya do care!”

“So, who wants ta try it?”

Screaming.

“Okay, then no more smart-ass comments.”

“Ve agree.”

And bonk! remains unquestioned to this day. Team compensating for the few seconds of recharge needed when the scouts’s bonk meter ran out.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #scout #medic #heavy #pyro #engie #solly #demo #spy #sniper #concept #this has been in my head a while #i wanted to make it a fic but i always thought it was funnier in this format #enjoy my trash #long post