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#but this is probably longer aa

annoying-probably · 1 year

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how do you feel about klapollo i rly like your writing style and want to hear an essay

Oh wow-!! I didn't think I posted about AA enough for essays asks 😭 but tysm stranger! ! ! I love writing and im glad it can be joyful to others!!!

First and foremost? Absolutely insane for the dynamic. one singular normal guy and another much less normal guy wanting a pathetic tiny man? Perfection. But no. Oh no, not normal guy is head over heels, infatuated, writing a low-key, gay song rn.

But all jokes aside?? The thematic parallels? The tropes??? Immaculate. The constant stage face and someone impervious to all lies? I'm honestly upset it was never actually used properly in aa4, we got obvious hints Klavier is hiding something more sad underneath the surface but. you know. AA no spoiler rule, my absolute enemy. An aj2 is basically exactly what we need </3 so many plot points to follow through on.

I think for them ever getting together?? it's many painful months of pining, maybe years for Klavier lmao. Not because he doesn't try, he absolutely does, Apollo is just the densest. Ever. Does not understand what a flirting is, he only knows the cold, strict rules of the law.

I also think a bittersweet thing the could connect on is music :') or performance in general, I have a feeling Apollo would be pretty disconnected with music throughout his life, just for not having the time or care and maybe with associating it with his dad,, maybe trying to connect but ultimately just being sad by it, or even angry? Maybe a part of them being together could be Apollo actually coming to enjoy music, especially since one of the things he knows about his dad is that he played the guitar</3 whilst klavier can try and find a sense of individuality, I think, yk?

I also think they have a nice bickering in public/soft and quiet alone, but absolutely still bickering dynamic lol.

overall??? i love them a lot. one of my favourite aa ships i am insane over on the regular. This really took really long and I couldn't really figure out everything I wanted to talk about since I haven't watched aa4 in a while 😭😭

#+nyx rambles+#ace attorney #klapollo #klavier gavin #apollo justice #aa #aa4 #i never do aa specific posts how dis u come for me......#i am flattered believe me lol #i could probably go on longer if i had my aa main series knowledge brushed up!!#if im given topics i can probably go on a lil further yk? like a lil guide of what u want to hear

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avemstella · 5 months

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Oh yeah, fun update on my writing. Currently writing Furina fic parallel/sequel Neuvillette fic (It starts mid-furina fic with their meeting and then goes past the ending of that). So the thing is, I don't normally write with music on (even non-lyrical stuff tends to distract me) but for some reason I've been writing with Turnabout: The Ace Attorney Musical playing in the background pfft. Which is simultaneously very apt because Fontaine, but also not remotely because I've not been writing any trial stuff yet (well hmmm u could maybe argue it but no). Me jamming out to "It's Gotta Be the Butz!" while writing Neuvillette and Furina losing their minds hahahaha. What a time.

#fic stuff #avem rambling #dedil stuff #The juxtaposition is just endlessly funny to me #I skipped forward to write the ending scene because I really wanted to write it #(considering how dedil ended u can probably assume the tone)#so I'm writing this super emotional scene while listening the the gay lawyers do their gay lawyering #but yes if u are an ace attorney fan who hasn't listened to that musical go listen to it right away its sooooo good (its all on youtube)#I'm finally finishing the aa games at long last #just finished the mainline games and now making my way through the spin offs #also fun fact I did in fact look up how to format a musical title because I'm secretly still a child in an english class #(fun fact if a play is one act u use quotes but any longer u use italics)

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mutxnts · 1 year

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ok so we know each other from xmen but you’re obvs a huge ace attorney fan so I’m just curious, is there any characters or ships in ace attorney that are similar to Charles and Erik? I don’t know too much about aa so anything’s new info to me lol

OKAY SO: i would say the closest characters to charles and erik are also the main characters from aa, phoenix wright and miles edgeworth! like erik, miles is kind of an asshole, but he's a likeable asshole who does have his moments, like doing the right thing in the end. his big source of trauma also happened to him when he was a kid, which strongly influenced his character and who he is as an adult.

phoenix is a little bit harder to compare to charles since there's a lot less direct links. but i think because he's a defense attorney, he really likes to see the good in people and blindly put his trust in them (which sometimes leads to good things and sometimes to leads to bad things). i think that's also a really big characteristic of charles as well bc he's so willing to work alongside humans to figure out a way for mutants and humans to coexist! he sees all the potential humanity has and chooses to focus on that, even after all that he's seen or heard with his powers. it's kind of the same with phoenix, he's Seen Some Shit but still chooses to keep believing in people no matter what. also you know how in dofp charles goes through a really rough depressed patch of his life? phoenix goes through something similar as well in one of the later games, which is where my pfp comes from!

the ship for these two characters is the biggest in the fandom and have like a million ship dynamics like cherik does (friends to rivals to sorta friends again to case partners to friends to lovers etc etc) bc they've been friends since they were kids! you know how charles saved erik by pulling him from the water? well miles did something similar to that but is a lot less dramatic than erik drowning lmao. basically, when they were in like 4th or 5th grade, phoenix got accused of stealing lunch money from miles, and all of his classmates believed that and started hating him. miles demanded that they hold a trial in class so he could clear phoenix's name and prove he was innocent. they became best friends after that until the previously mentioned trauma happens to miles, and he's forced to move away. which i feel like i need to mention he moves away to germany and like erik is german lol so that's just another similarity

they also have some incredibly Gay Ass Moments that can't be explained as anything else but them being in love with each other, but that would make this post like 20x longer than it already is so i won't get into it lol

anyway thank you vivi for sending me this, this was really fun to think about since i haven't thought about xmen meta for a hot a sec!! i definitely recommend these games if you ever feel like giving them a chance <3

#ask #long post #honestly i could probably go on for a lot longer than this about similarities but i'm gonna stop there lmao #also i think kari said one time that they were working on an au set in the aa universe for them so that's kinda interesting #or at least they said they were thinking of headcanons for it

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jukeboxhound · 11 months

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One of my favorite things to do as a DV advocate is explaining legal processes to folks, and I've been eyeballing a paralegal certification as a potential track since before COVID, although I don't want to work for an attorney.

Except! Legal document assistants (LDAs) are a thing, and they basically do EXACTLY what I already do with family law restraining orders as a non-lawyer plus EVEN MORE stuff, and honestly it sounds precisely like what I've been looking for????

I think that if I don't get into the Egyptology program I applied for this fall, imma go ahead and shoot for a paralegal certification instead. :D :D :D

#in ten years i'm gonna end up managing a calligraphy hustle and a legal doc/notary hustle and a faith-based peer counselor hustle #me: how tf am i gonna fit that all under a single umbrella to streamline self-employed income reporting #my brain: lean really fuckin hard into the 'scribe of thoth' imagery :D #hound barks #i should be wrapping up this art AA soon #and i'm gonna wait to shoot for a doctorate until i get my student loans taken care of in like five years and i no longer have to #work full-time at a nonprofit #so after the art but before the ph.d. - paralegal nonsense!#i'll probably be going to school for the rest of my life and honestly i love the idea

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dukeofankh · 3 months

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Trying to find progressive masculine community is so exhausting.

I've flipped through local men's groups, trying to find places to explore masculinity in a chill, progressive setting. First of all, they mostly seem to be modelled after AA, and like, my gender isn't a debilitating addiction, it's part of my identity actually, but also, the invite and description of the event have maybe a short paragraph tops actually waving vaguely in the direction of what the purpose of the group is, and then ten to twenty paragraphs breaking down the rules. One spent longer talking about the hand signals he would use to direct conversation than he did describing what the conversation would be about. Another had a full paragraph explaining that if the group thought you were evading what they thought your "real" problem was, they'd probably "call you to take accountability". Like...I don't even know who these people are yet and they're already letting me know that they view it as their right, no, their duty, to bully me into seeing things their way. Like, this is in the invite.

...and this warning is there instead of any sort of breakdown of like, I dunno. Whether you should be a feminist to show up. Whether it was a safe space for queer men. What the hell they wanted to talk about. Joining a men's space is on some level inherently submitting yourself to the authority of the leaders of that group, and you don't usually get a particularly clear breakdown of what the values and goals of those leaders are, because on some level the answer is always going to be "whatever I want"

And like, unfortunately you do need to filter men to build a men's space. You do need to remove or chastise men who act in ways that are toxic or disruptive or misogynistic. If you don't things turn into an MRA chapter pretty quick. But the sort of emergency powers that leadership takes on as a result of that...just kind of naturally end up reproducing masculine heirarchies.

MensLib, the only online community of progressive dudes talking about masculinity that I'm aware of, is...on Reddit. So there is a moderator system. In theory, a moderator is there to...moderate. This is a space where people are going to be talking, and mods are there to make sure things don't get too toxic or off topic.

The issue is that, on some level, that is technically a leadership position. In a sub trying to rehabilitate masculinity. So you've got a bunch of folks who view themselves as the leaders of this bastion of goodness standing against the depredations of the misogynistic internet, guiding the hapless smooth-brain neophytes towards The True Way.

In practice, this looks like 95 percent of the posts submitted for the subreddit being rejected. That isn't hyperbole. On average, the sub has about one new post per day. Almost all posts directly relating a personal experience are deleted immediately, in favour of articles written about masculinity in traditional media publications, which are considered more trustworthy than the sus lived experiences of the guys in the sub. The post I wrote here about the effect of purity culture on male sexual shame that's sitting at about 15K notes was based on a 10K word post I wrote for Reddit that was deleted because "I didn't cite any sources to prove that there is a link between purity culture and male sexual shame, or that my experience was anything more than anecdotal". I get comments deleted on a regular basis, and after paragraphs of protesting in modmail that my comments are both fully in line with feminism and not against the rules, the mods have just finally told me that the rules don't actually drive their actions as a team. They delete anything they feel leads the conversation in a direction they personally feel is unproductive. The rule cited at the time of deletion is really just the broad category of why they decided to hit the button that says nobody is allowed to read what I wrote.

The issue is kind of twofold. First of all, progressive men do not trust other men. A good dude knows that he, individually, is a good person, but literally any other man external to him is on thin ice. Do you really want to tie your wagon to that guy? Do you trust him, really? How do you tell the difference between a guy criticizing an article because it's factually incorrect and criticising it because a woman wrote it? Probably best to play it safe and delete it. Weight of the odds, he's probably a misogynist, right? This is the internet.

And thats the other half of it. If you view yourself as part of the leadership of The Good Guys, and you're getting hatemail from incels and facists all day, you get to the point where most of the time people challenge your authority it's because they're a terrible person. It is very, very easy to get to the point where someone challenging you is seen as evidence that they are a bad person. And now someone is challenging you (and therefore bad), in an environment where you are in charge, and you have a "make your opponent disappear" button.

I know. A Reddit mod was rude to me and now I'm butthurt. It's petty and stupid. I'm just feeling like there's nowhere else to really go, and I'm pretty despondent that literally every space I've seen that even looks like it might be for progressive men has the same deeply hierarchical structure and constant status-oriented squabbling as patriarchal spaces.

#me writing stuff #positive masculinity #menslib

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thechaoticdruid · 2 months

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Something some people don't seem to get about Astarion is that he pretends not to care as a coping mechanism for guilt. He pretty much lies not only to us but also to himself. Probably hoping that if he says he doesn't care enough that the guilt will just vanish.

I honestly feel like these toxic coping habits also get turned up to eleven when he's ascended. So when you reject his offer to make you his spawn he deals with the pain by convincing himself that he didn't believe in love anyway.

Tav turns into a mind flayer and he can no longer bring himself to want to be with them. "Oh well they're disgusting so I don't care."

(I'd recently found out that if mind Flayer Tav peeks into A!Astarion's brain they find out he apparently still feels love so I guess he actually does feel the same way Spawn Astarion does about the situation. But of course AA is an ass about it.)

He can't turn Karlach so now he can't keep her with him forever. "It's not my fault it's yours!" *Proceeds to throw tantrum like a spoiled brat.*

Spawn Ending Astarion however learns to let himself be vulnerable and let it out since Tav actually makes him feel safe enough to do so.

So basically what I'm saying is Astarion is tsundere about his feelings if that makes sense. He keeps how he really feels guarded and insists he doesn't care when in actuality he does. And as THE VAMPIRE ASCENDANT these habits become even worse since he's done with the idea of being a good person entirely and just embraces his darkest impulses, but I doubt he can snuff out his humanity completely. He still comforts Tav if they end up bound to the incubus, he doesn't want Karlach to die and actually puts off his world-domination plans for her.

Anyway I think I made my point. I started this mostly because one of my guy friends who is also playing BG3 is convinced Astarion is 100% evil which isn't true. He definitely does evil things and is a selfish bastard but saying he's just evil isn't entirely accurate. (Granted this friend has yet to do an Astarion romance run so perhaps he's missing context.) Sorry if I might have got off topic or worded something strangely, but if you have anything to add to this comment below. 👇

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #Ascended Astarion #astarion romance

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analog-mothman · 9 months

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Three Vintage Simstress Dresses 4t2

My first 4t2 clothing conversions! These too a bit longer than I've expected, and I've definitely learned a lot. Some things were easier than expected and some... not so much.

The AF mesh is enabled for elders, and the TF version is repo'd to the AF files, so it needs those to function. The Casual and Velvet Dresses are everyday and outwear, while the Day Dress is just enabled for everyday.

The original dresses are by @vintagesimstress and can be found here, here and here! Shoes are somewhat edited 4t2 boots by @janika31 and @deedee-sims, and the tights for the TF version are from @oldtimeyskellington.

Files are compressed and tooltipped!

Download: SFS | MF (58MB)

TF version (Day Dress, Velvet Dress, Casual Dress)

Things We've Learned, or Excuses and Justifications:

The original TS4 textures were HQ compatible and too big for TS2, and except for the Velvet dress they didn't want to reduce down without going muddy. So most of the swatches are new based on Vintage Simstress' PSDs and some Victorian color palettes I found.

On that note, there are way too many swatches and almost 300 files. I'll probably make that mistake again.

I found the original pattern and a second pattern I liked for the Day Dress on Colour Lovers. There are also additional swatches using parts of old textures from AAS dresses.

I added a collar to the Velvet Dress, and the cuffs were remapped a smidge to work with the new lace patterns.

These don't have morphs because I couldn't get the 5gd meshes to import into Blender for some reason. I'll update the meshes once I can figure out that nonsense.

Sims can sit down; and the skirt shouldn't clip though most tables, desks, etc; but will still clip though some things. Bars are a notable issue.

I learned a lot doing this, and in classic Nykteia style, I definitely overcomplicated some parts and overthought some things.

I love the original dresses so much and I really hope I did them even an ounce of justice.

Swatches; there are also 3 black mourning recolors for the Day Dress that I didn't save the patterns for.

Credits to @vintagesimstress, @deedee-sims, @janika31, @oldtimeyskellington, colourlovers.com, All About Style, and EAxis.

These are my first clothing conversions, so please let me know if there are any issues!

#sims 2 download #ts2 cc #s2cc #sims 2 cc #4t2 #4t2 cc #4t2 clothes #4t2 conversion #historical cc #dl: clothing #dl: af clothing #dl: tf clothing #dl: ef clothing #dl: victorian

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theboombutton · 3 months

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Bad Fictional Data vs Fictional Bad Data

WARNING: This post will include discussion of a name that might be Alice Dyer's deadname. I won't be calling Alice by this name or using it in the context of that name being a pointer to Alice, but I will be using the name, uncensored, when talking about where and why the name appeared in chdb.xls .

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You may know that as part of the ARG, the sleuths on Statement Remains uncovered a document called chdb.xls, allegedly a list that has something to do with The Magnus Institute. There's a list of names, ID numbers, first and last names, dates of birth, and information apparently related to each person's "score" in an assortment of psychological/personality tests. Three of the names in particular have stood out in a lot of analyses: Samama Khalid, Gerard Kaey [sic], and Connor Dyer.

You likely don't know that the commonly linked version of the spreadsheet, ported to Google Docs and linked in the TMAGP ARG Masterdoc, is presented out of order. (I'm guessing they didn't lock down editing until it was already all out of order from various people messing with it - totally understandable, this is not a callout post, thank you for making this easily accessible to people.)

But let me tell you about something I discovered by looking at the spreadsheet in its original order, and the almost certainly incorrect rabbit hole of theorizing it has sent me down.

Bad Fictional Data

Until episode 2 I had the same thought about the Dyer listed in the spreadsheet that I think most people did: that it was Alice's deadname, and that she had therefore been one of the Institute's young subjects. But after Alice had absolutely no reaction when Sam mentioned the Magnus Institute to her in episode 2, I now think this is significantly less likely.

Don't get me wrong: it's still reasonable to think that the Dyer listed in chdb.xls is Alice. Maybe she had some kind of supernatural experience that wiped her memory. (It probably wasn't that Alice was too young to remember, as the Dyer on the spreadsheet is listed as being at Piaget Stage 3, which occurs from 7-11 years old; but it's always possible that the Magnus Institute was using the names of legitimate psychological tests to hide their tracks when recording more esoteric data.) The point is, this isn't hard evidence that Alice has no connection to the Magnus Institute; it just made me go looking for more evidence.

I went back to the spreadsheet to look for more clues about whether or not this was Alice's deadname. What I found instead was some extremely sloppy fake data at the bottom of the spreadsheet.

For context, here are first ten names in the spreadsheet:

Note how each ID begins with the name's first and last initial.

Now check out the last ten names:

Not only do these IDs no longer always match their subjects' names, they occur in order: CD, EF, GH, IJ, KL, MN, OP, QR, ST, UV. The first names of each pair match the first letter of each ID, but many, though not all, of the surnames don't match the second letter.

My first thought was that whoever Rusty Quill had contracted to generate these names had gotten sloppy at the end of the list, created the IDs all at once using this alphabetical pattern, and picked names to fill in that roughly matched the IDs. But hey, we could use this to our advantage! Any name that was filled in as part of a series of IDs with an alphabetical pattern like this could be removed from consideration for red string analysis - we'd know they were meaningless fakes added by a lazy contractor, and not clues or characters that might show up again later.

Scrolling back up the spreadsheet, we can see the person generating the data having more care the earlier we go. We find the beginning of the AA/BC/DE/FG/HI pattern at line 136, but at first, the names mostly conform to the initials they've been given. JK09874 "Josie Jordan" at line 154 is the first break from the "first two letters of the ID are their initials" pattern; and breaks occur more often the further you go down the sheet.

Scrolling up to before line 136 (AA09911 - Aaron Atkinson), while the pattern isn't yet at AB/CD/EF/GH levels of obviousness, the first initials are still in alphabetical order. Zoe Hart follows Yara Logan follows Xavier Freeman follows Wyatt Edwards. The data creator skips a few letters - for example Niamh Fenton is followed by Phoebe Emmett, and S and T are together in the same line in Skye Travers.

We can follow this less-obvious version of the alphabetical pattern up to an abrupt break right at line 118, above which the IDs don't follow an alphabetical pattern at all. (They might follow a different pattern, but it's not one that I've found yet.) So that means we can discount all the names in line 118 and below as purely fake, generated lazily by a contractor, and not worthy of our attention for the purposes of red-stringing. Right?

What the fuck?!

(highlight is my own, it is not present in the original document)

My first thought was that the sloppy data generator had done the funniest thing imaginable, sending everyone on a wild goose chase about Alice's deadname just by having the name "Dyer" on the brain while looking for a surname that started with D. This would be Very Funny. No plot relevance, no implications, just the brain fart that launched a thousand theories.

My second thought was that maybe Connor Dyer was the last legit name on the list, and whoever started filling the rest of the sheet in with alphabetical junk data was inspired by the "CD" initials in the first place - whoever it was went on from there.

These are both valid thoughts! But I prefer my third thought:

What if it's on purpose?

Fictional Bad Data

There is a very obvious break between the set of data that doesn't look obviously* fake, and the set of data that is immediately identifiable as such. If we assume that this was intentional - and I want to reiterate that it all being unintentional is still a very real possibility here - why would someone at Rusty Quill want the data to be structured like this?

If the sharp dividing line between reasonable-seeming data and obviously fake data is intentional on RQ's part, it would suggest that we should take the data above row 118 as in-universe real data, and the data below row 118 as in-universe falsified data. It suggests that someone, either at the Institute or after its demise, was adding nonexistent children to the roster of The Magnus Institute. Why would someone want to do that?

There are all kinds of possible reasons, but here are a few off the top of my and my theorizing buddies' heads:

Financial fraud (institutional edition). If the Magnus Institute received funding on a per-child basis, they'd have an incentive to inflate their numbers.

Financial fraud (researcher edition). One or more people on staff were blowing off their child-analysis sessions and recording fake numbers for fake children. This would be ballsy as hell if they could be fired for it, but it was the Magnus Institute, so there's decent odds they couldn't be.

Scientific fraud (faking conclusions edition). The Magnus Institute in the Protocolverse claimed to be doing research on giftedness in children, which is the kind of thing that you'd normally publish in a scientific journal. It's not unheard-of for dickhead academics to falsify data to generate statistically significant results, since statistically insignificant results aren't going to get you published.

Scientific fraud (obscuring paranormal bullshit edition). If the Magnus Institute was using legitimate psychological test names to record Fear-related test results, it's possible their results showed different patterns from what you would expect from the real tests. They could have added the fake children to balance out the dataset as a whole.

Pseudonyms. The children are all real, the Institute just started using fake names for them for privacy purposes. They couldn't go back and change the names they'd already written properly for some reason. Probably something paranormal.

Those are all pretty interesting possibilities, and if we could narrow them down, it might tell us something about what things were like at the Magnus Institute before it burned down!

And the other big question is: why did RQ make the dividing line between the two sections, the first likely-fake entry, Connor Dyer?

One straightforward reason could be as a troll, a red herring to watch fans get in a lather over. And once the community inevitably noticed all the obviously falsified entries, RQ could eat popcorn and watch us lose our minds over whether or not that's even a real entry! (That sounds really fun, I would absolutely do that.)

But let's dig a little deeper, and look at what Connor Dyer being on the border between the real and fake entries would mean in-universe. Because of its position as the border between real and fake, it would be very easy for that entry to be accidentally included in the wrong group - a real research subject discarded as fake, or perhaps more interestingly, a fake research subject accidentally reclassified as real.

Remember, if a name is fake in the context of the Magnus Institute's research, that doesn't mean that the name itself is made up. If I was trying to think of a name that fit the initials CD, and those were the initials of my next door neighbor's kid, I might just write their name in as a lark. Especially if it was my first time trying to get away with falsifying information: this is a kid that verifiably exists and lives in the area.

My theory, supported primarily by my love for The Implications instead of actual evidence

Twenty years on, after all institutional memory of the fraud was long gone, trans icon Alice Dyer applies to work for the OIAR - an institution that (according to this theory) has an unofficial preference for hiring former Magnus Institute kids.

They are very confused when Alice proceeds to act nothing like a former Magnus Institute kid. It doesn't occur to anyone that her entry might have been falsified. What reason would anyone have to do that?

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* Of course people with a background in data analysis or statistics will see immediately that even above line 118 this is a wild-ass dataset that would raise red flags for falsification, but at least it's not "the alphabet over and over" levels of obvious.

#tmagp theory #alice dyer #tmagp arg #chdb.xls #tmagp speculation #tmagp #the magnus protocol #cw deadnaming

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ltwilliammowett · 7 months

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Sea Shanties and Shipboard Music aboard Warships

Traditionally, sea shanties were sung on board both warships and merchant ships to help light the work involved in sailing the ship. They are usually divided into two main groups - capstan shanties, designed to accompany the hard effort involved in heaving on the bars of the ship's capstan, and halyard shanties, where either the rhythm or the words were designed to help the men pull together, for instance when raising a sail pr raising up a new spar to the masthead.

Most shanties follow the same pattern, with short versesand boisterous but repetitive choruses. Sometimes the lyrics were either made up aas the seamen went along, or else improvised or repeated, especially if the task proved longer than the shanty. The words were often less important than the rhythm of the song, although some shanties such Shenandoah or Blow the Man Down have become famous as songs in their own right. Oh and by the way the first known shanties date from the mid-16th century, recorded in the Complaynt of Scotland (1549), but their origins probably lie much further back than that.

It has been argued that sea shanties were much more commonplace on merchant vessels than on warships, as the later were comparatively well manned, so the labour involved in sailing the ship was less arduous. This theory isn't borne out by what we know about life in the sailing navies of the world. While shanties might have been less commonly used as working songs, they were widdely sung as a means of recreation. Music was important on board a sailing man o'war, and instruments such as fiddles, fifes and flutes were often played when sailors were off-duty. And the sailors loved singing on board until ordered to their hammocks at pipe down, these shanties are known as fo'c's'le songs or forebitters. Dancing was also popular, and many captains encouraged it, as a way of keeping spirits high and of providing exercise.

Popular songs in the Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars were Nancy Dawson, Spanish Ladies and Drops of Brandy and some ships carried an official band, and during the approach of the British Fleet to the enemy at the Battle of Trafalgar, many ships played Rule Britannia, Hearts of Oak or Britons Strike Home.

Shanties during work on board depended on the captain, because not everyone wanted music. It was more like silence aboard a warship so that the men could hear the orders better and not get lost in the singing. But it also happened that there was singing or a flute was played when the anchor was being aweight but that mostly depending on the situation on the ship.

Well the truth was, music such as sea shanties made the work appear easier, whether on board a merchant vessel or a warship. But the shanties went out of favour with the coming of steam. With no sails to raise, and with steam powered capstans there was little need to sing during work. By the later 19th century they had lost their original workmanlike purpose, and shanties became something that were sung for fun and get mixed with the so called sailors songs, rather than as a song of work.

#naval history #sea shanties #mid 16th century -19th century #age of discovery #age of sail #age of steam

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rosedom · 29 days

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"an anonymous 'AA Battery' has summoned WRIOTHESLEY for the event . . ."

A/N : this was a BLAST omg ,, it was fun talking with u !!

✦ㅤㅤE = experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?)

wriothesley is probably one of the more experienced genshin men i write about. from the simple way this man has got to be at least in his early to mid-30's to having crawled up the ranks of meropide, he's had plenty of opportunities for sex. he's been asked out and done the asking out in turn, though it usually ends amicably or devolves into a simple friends-with-benefits situation. he is not ashamed of his active sex life ! the only annoying part is having to go to sigewinne for condoms . . .

so, yeah. he's got the experience to lay with you for a damn good time.

✦ㅤㅤI = intimacy (how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect !)

his experience with the added intimacy, too . . . mmm. because believe it or not, he's incredibly romantic—with you, that is. in past hook-ups, not so much; but with you, he's wholly devoted. he's always got to be touching you. usually (when he's not cuffed . . . spoiler alert (⁠゜⁠o⁠゜⁠;) !!), he keeps a hand at your jaw or holding tight to your shoulders, even lacing his fingers through yours when you're too far for that other stuff. he's a very touchy-feely guy, too, so paired up with the boundless love he holds for you—it's quite the intimate moment.

"i love you," is his favorite thing to say in bed. hell, even when he's begging for you, he's doing it between these breathy declarations of love. saying, "oh—mm, i love you, love you—" while he's clawin' at the sheets . . . and when i say that he's in the moment, he's in the moment. the entire world narrows down to the two of you in bed, tangled bodies and muted gasps of pleasure—that's all that exists to him, here.

✦ㅤㅤK = kink (one or more of his kinks)

handcuffs. there's no doubt about it. he wants to be at your mercy, and what better way to do that than cuff him up? lock his hands together behind his back, bind him to the headboard above his head, or have his hands locked in front of him and resting between his spread thighs: he loves it all. there's a certain feeling of helplessness that comes with restricting his hands and giving you they key, but he revels in it, in the trust the two of you have in one another. cuffed in your bed, he knows he needs to fear nothing nor want for anything: you'll keep him safe and give him everything.

and, listen: i know i give basically every character i write about a praise kink just because that's what i'm into, but this man is almost the embodiment of it. his entire life, he's been kicked around: to be able to give himself up to you entirely and be told that he's good, that he's enough—it all makes his head get filled up with cotton. tell him, "you're doing perfect f'r me," or maybe even toss in a few, "good boy, wrio." knowing that he's pleasing you and deserving of pleasure in turn—that's what really gets his gears goin'.

✦ㅤㅤS = stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

he's a force to be reckoned with—in the pankration ring and in bed. all those thickly corded muscles aren't just for show; the man has power, and he has seemingly endless stamina. stamina, however, doesn't quite equal satisfaction for dear wriothesley: he can get one orgasm and still be energized after, even ready for his day afterwards, but he'll be satisfied with whatever you give him. because he loves taking on a submissive role around you—one that lets him forget the stresses of his day, a time where he no longer needs to be in charge and in control of everything in his life—, he often doesn't even need to expunge that much energy: that is, unless he's riding you.

when he's riding you, god. wriothesley can go for ages, bouncing up and down on your cock until the both of you are spent, satisfied. he still gets jerky with his movements, still whimpers; but he doesn't get all that tuckered out. wrio can go at it for one round or a whole day of marathon sex: it depends entirely on what the two of you are in the mood for <3

✦ㅤㅤT = toys (does he own toys? does he use them? how often? on a partner or himself?)

as it is, wriothesley's always got options: he has plenty of connections to get more sex toys if he wants them, and i fully believe that this man went through a shit-ton of them before finding what he likes best. once he found 'em, he sticks to them: a simple FTM stroker and a rabbit vibrator are all he needs for himself. don't fix what ain't broke is his motto, really. however, he still keeps all the old ones he goes through—it's partially out of not wanting to admit they were a waste of mora/credit coupons, but also wanting to keep toys handy for you. if you've got a cunt, he keeps a good few straps and corresponding dildos for you to fuck him with; if it's a cock you've got, he's a fan of using vibrators on you. in the end, though, he uses (or, really, you use) the toys on himself more often.

but let's get back to those two handy toys of his, yeah? wriothesley loves the stroker for a quick nut or two—typically he uses it in the morning before he gets on with his day. other times, however, he uses it as a precursor to the rabbit vibe. wrio using the stroker to get his cock nice n' plump, thick 'nuff to nudge between the vibrator's twin ears . . . and although it's difficult for him to hold the stroker still and finger himself open in preparation for the rabbit, wriothesley typically ends up cupping his cock with his fingers, just brushing past the sensitive head of it, as he holds himself open for his other hand to fuck himself loose on.

in the end, he's masturbates regularly—more-so on the days every two weeks surrounding his t-shots. he can't help the way it makes him so horny !! and, hey—what's a guy left to do without you if not jack off?

nnnnn i got a lil' carried away with that last one . . . we all know how i love wrio with a good rabbit vibe . . . haha . . . (i still get activity on that post daily, it's insane LMAOO) but anyway, thank u so much for requesting ლ⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠ლ⁠) i hope i did him well for you !

2 APR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 EVENT 】#“aa battery” is the name this person chose to be addressed by btw !!#alphabet #sub genshin #genshin smut #sub wriothesley #wriothesley smut #and of course:#dom reader

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rainylana · 1 year

Text

“Yeah, baby, I’ll go with you.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

Summary: a continuation of my series ‘i’ll always take care of you’. takes place two years after the first chapter, one year after the epilogue.

Warnings: contains mentions of past sexual violence and assault, ptsd and trauma flashbacks, detailed panic attacks and anxiety habits, unprotected sex, language, heavy description of blood, reader gets her period, gagging, vomiting, self hatred and self blame.

a/n: hi everybody:) this took longer than expected but i’m very very excited for you to read, as i love this series very much and just wanted to go back and explore it. i hope you love this as much as i do! i’m very happy with the way it turned out! please share how you feel about it:) i missed you! and i hope you have a very merry christmas to those who all celebrate it!<3

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Two years later.

“I met Nancy in fifth grade when I moved here from Chicago. I had trouble making friends, but Nancy- she introduced herself to me right away, even gave me half of her rice crispy treat. I didn’t know at that age just how important she’d become to me, in fact it’s still hard to believe how much she’s helped me. I can only hope I’ve been able to return at least a fraction of what she’s given me. So, I want to raise a glass to Nancy and Jonathon, yes, I’ve not forgotten about you, and tell you both that we all love you very much. I love you very much. Congratulations, you guys.”

Your hand was raised, holding up a crystal glass at the end of the long, white table. Nancy, who was at your side, had tears going down her face, while Jonathan had a beaming smile. The people on the benches in front of you all cheered from your maid of honor speech, and you giggled when Eddie whistled at the other end of the table, a groomsman himself.

Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding was probably one of the most beautiful Hawkins had ever had. Everyone had come, and you couldn’t deny the fact you’d been extremely nervous to give your speech in-front of everyone, but Nancy deserved to hear what you wanted to say. You could never really be able to express how much she meant to you.

The wedding was held outside at a meadow, just a mile outside of town. It was littered with lavender and dandelions, even an ice sculpture. Truthfully, both Nancy and Jonathan would have been fine with having a courthouse wedding with a few friends and family, but Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler wanted to spoil their daughter, and Joyce, had chipped in almost all the money she had to help.

You admired how handsome Eddie looked in his tuxedo, hair slicked back into a neat ponytail, one of the only few occasions where he put effort into his hair. His shoes were shiny and squeaky. He even rubbed a fork on the bottom of the soles so he wouldn’t slip. Will was the best man, and the other groomsmen being Hopper, Mike, Dustin and Lucas. Robin was also a bridesmaid. Karen and Joyce, too. Little Holly was the flower girl.

White flowers and pink tulips were the flowers of choice, the cake almost seemed to be seven stories tall. Elegant couldn’t even describe how beautiful it all worked.

“Wanna dance?” Eddie flicked the rim of your champagne glass, a happy grin on his face.

You were happy the ceremony was over, everyone now able to relax and celebrate the happy moment with booze and food. Everyone drove across town to city hall, but the wedding theme had still followed them over there.

“Hmm, yes, please.” You placed down your glass, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your body close to his. Mostly everyone was dancing now, and if they weren’t, they were engulfing themselves on the buffet and chocolate fountain. They, meaning the children and Dustin.

“My feet hurt so bad. I think I got blisters.” You groaned through a chuckle.

“Tell me about it.” He smirked in agreement. “These things are probably full of my blood.”

You smiled and looked over to your best friend, who was dancing her heart away with Jonathon in the middle of dance floor. “It’s worth it, though. She looks so beautiful.”

Eddie looked over and smiled softly. “Yeah, she does.”

You laid your head on his chest and wrapped your arms tighter around him, swaying softly to the happy tune of whatever song was playing. You had no idea what it was. The irony, warm feeling of his rings brushed along your neck, hair being pinned up with a few loose curls.

“I hope Joyce and Hopper are next.” You smiled when your eyes found them, dancing softly and gazing into each other’s eyes. They looked like they saw no one else.

Eddie chuckled and found them, too. “I’d say so.”

Then you found Dustin and Suzie. Lucas and Max. Mike and Eleven. Couples dancing, kissing and being happily in love. Weddings were stressful, sure, but you loved them. You loved being in love. You looked up to Eddie and grinned, standing up taller to peck him on the lips. “I love you.”

His hand squeezed your waist and he smiled, bringing up his other to hold your cheek. He melted his lips against yours in a sweet kiss, the taste of the chocolate fountain evident on his tongue. “You have no idea.” He replied.

•

Your curled up hair was starting to fall apart after all the clean up duty. You and Eddie, along with some of your other friends, stayed to help clean the hall when Nancy and Jonathan left for their honeymoon. It took several hours to take down all the decorations, put away the food, tables and chairs. You and Eddie were the only ones left now. You sent everyone home, assuring them you could finish by yourself, and that only left you to sweep the floor and throw away some trash.

The bottom of your feet were filthy, having disregarded your heels so your feet didn’t have to suffer during clean up. Your dress was bunched up a bit by your waist.

“You bout finished, babe?” Eddie asked, coming back inside from taking out garbage bags. His hair was also a bit more frazzled, his black suit jacket thrown over a chair, leaving him in his white button up.

“Yeah, I think so.” You half panted, placing your hands on your hips as you turned to greet him. “Get everything outside taken care of?”

“Yeah, Hopper just left.” He sniffled, wiping away some sweat. “You hungry? I could order a pizza or something.”

You rolled your head back in exhaustion, admiring how handsome he looked. “Had too much cake. I’ve got a food baby.”

He chuckled as he looked down to your belly, coming close to wrap his arms around your waist. He kissed your forehead lovingly and you tiredly laid against his chest, lazily resting your arms around him. Without your heels, your head barely came up to his chest.

“I think this is my favorite version of you.” Eddie smiled softly, lips brushing over the side of your head.

You narrowed your eyes, cheek squished against his chest. “Why? I’m dirty.”

His laughter sounded in your ear, pulling away so he could hold you out in front of him. “I like when your hair is like this. It’s cute.”

“It looks like a rats nest.” You retorted.

“And your face is all red.” He continued, holding your arms. “And you got those little lines between your eyebrows from concentrating so much.”

“Well, we have to make sure this place is cleaned otherwise we’ll piss off the city council- are you sure it looks alright?” You went to turn away but he grabbed your jaw, turning you to give you a gentle kiss.

“You look pretty handsome, yourself.” You relaxed against his lips. “Class suits you.”

He smirked, a breath hitting your cupid’s bow. “That right?” His forehead connected to yours, his hand reaching around your waist to push you against him. He ducked down to kiss you fully, bodies melting together in the empty room.

Your tummy fluttered as his hands roamed at your sides, deep kisses being briefly broken apart for a breath of air. “You wanna?” He husked, smirking against your neck.

“Here?” You burned, arching your back slightly. “Don’t you think- are there cameras?” You looked up to the ceiling, looking between corners.

He held you up as he kissed on the exposed skin of your chest, the plump skin of your breasts that shown was caressed by his tongue.

“I don’t see any.” He murmured seductively.

“You didn’t even look.” You pretended to scold him, but you inhaled a sharp gasp as he bit your skin softly. “You’re awful. Yes, I wanna.”

You pulled his face so you could kiss him, and he picked you up by your thighs to put you against the wall. You throbbed for him as he pressed himself against you, your skin shining with a lustful glow that made his heart erratically beat. Your hands roamed his chest, the blades of his back, anything to get him closer to you. Anything to feel good. He always made you feel good, and he always took care of you.

There was a time where you thought you’d never be able to experience that again. You never thought you’d be able to be intimate with Eddie like this. You never thought you’d be able to be touched, caressed and pleasured without second guessing yourself or who you were with.

You never would have said it then, but now, after two years from your assault, you couldn’t deny the fact that you found some benefit from the situation. You had to if you were going to live with it. If there was anything you learned from that night, it changed the way you saw the world, and not in a bad way. It made you smarter, careful. It made you learn things about yourself, who you wanted to be. It was a chapter in your life that had come and gone. That’s how you dealt with it. When ptsd and trauma flashbacks came, you dealt with it like you’d learned how to. Sometimes they were nothing, sometimes you nearly went to the hospital, but you dealt with it either way, and never alone.

“You want this, baby?” He pulled the straps of your dress down to free your breasts, and he wrapped his warm lips around your left nipple.

“Yes.” You tangled your hand in his hair, shamelessly rocking your hips up to his. “I need you so bad.”

He kissed and suckled on each breast, taking his sweet time, moving down the valley between them as best as he could with your dress still in the way. When he’d freed himself from his pants, rubbing himself up your slick, you buried your face in his shoulder and tightened your arms around his body. “Tell me, sweetheart.” He kissed your collarbone, teasing you, but he didn’t ever not ask that question.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, almost drunkenly, eyes already glossing over. “Fuck me, Eddie.”

He moved your panties to the side, sliding his cock inside of you slowly, burying his face in your chest. It was the burning stretch that made you whimper, but it just felt so, so good. It was slow at first, it usually always was. Eddie rocked into you a few times, grunting lowly to give you time. He always gave you time. The burn started to go away, and you leaned back to connect your lips passionately, silently telling him you were ready.

Your mouths were everywhere, sloppy and needy, the taste of one another driving you mad. You whimpered desperately into his mouth when he finally gave a sharper, more fluent thrust that moved you up the wall. Your response made him do it again, and again, and again, until he was at a pace that had you crying into his shoulder again. Skin slapped quickly, stomachs tightened and your teeth dug into his shoulder that made him groan.

Sometimes the only thing you could ever really do during sex was cry. Sometimes it just felt too good and that was all you could do. Eddie never questioned it, not anymore.

He could feel you clenching around him, and he gave one more thrust before he reached his orgasm, forcing a sob from your throat as your legs trembled in his sore arms. Your mouth was agape, tears rolling down your face as you panted, gulping and whimpering sounds squeaking their way out of you. Eddie huffed loudly, readjusting his hold on you with a fuzzy head.

“Thank you.” You choked, eyes fluttering closed, your body rocking with pleasure.

Eddie had assured you countless times you didn’t have to thank him for sex, and you knew you didn’t. You never meant to say it really when you did, so he learned to just accept it.

“Let’s go home.” He kissed your cheek.

•

Your panic attacks were easy to maintain and they had been for awhile. You’d gotten extremely well at mastering them, keeping them from overwhelming you too badly. It hadn’t always been that way, definitely not. But in the course of the last six to eight months, you’d impressed even yourself with your skill.

You’d done certain techniques, some worked and some didn’t. Journaling didn’t help shit. You thought it was boring. Going for walked helps sometimes, only if it wasn’t too hot. Deep breathing helped a lot, especially if you could hold on to Eddie’s hands or his shoulders. And sticking your face in a bowl of ice water always did the trick.

In the beginning he encouraged you to seek out for additional help, help that he knew he couldn’t give you. Sure, he was always there to listen and to be at every beck and call, but he’d never be able to understand what you went through. You saw a women’s support group almost two times a week back then, and now it was just once a month.

The worst panic attack you’d had, which haunted you and Eddie both, was last year. Eddie had to take you to the hospital, and even he at the time thought your fear was something more than panic, that’s how bad it was, like something was actually wrong. In these two years you’d been to the emergency room twelve times.

You hadn’t had one like that in a while, or really any. They were small, here and there. So when your eyes cracked open, trying to squint in the dark so you could see the time, you knew something was off, because you were past the point of waking up in the middle of the night. You were anxious was the first thing you realized. Your chest felt warm and your heart was beating more quickly than it should.

Great.

But it was okay. You’d be fine. You knew it would pass if you gave it time. You turned to lay on your back so you could breath easier, glancing over at Eddie in the dark who was sound asleep. You closed your eyes and inhaled through your nose, counting to five, held it for 5, then let go. You repeated it for awhile, but your body felt oddly uncomfortable besides just feeling too warm.

You laid there and breathed for almost twenty minutes before you decided you needed a glass of water. Shuffling through blankets, you sat up and lifted the comforter off your sweaty body, and even in the dark you could see the substance that was on the sheets beneath you. Your heart leapt in your throat and you turned to switch on the lamp by your bedside.

You’d gotten your period. Blood was bright and crimson on the white sheet, all over your thighs and ruining the pair of blue sleep shorts you were in. This wasn’t a big deal in itself. You’d gotten your period many times in the night, but your body didn’t seem prepared for it this time. Maybe it was the fact you were already trying to fight off an anxiety attack, who knows, but your eyes tripled in size and you gasped.

Eddie was awake immediately.

“Y/n?” He said through sleepy, alarmed eyes. “Y/n- hey, what’s the matter? What happened?”

Your anxiety immediately seized up to pure panic. The blood was just too much. It was everywhere. Not really, but to you, right now, it did. You started gasping, your throat bopping noisily as your hands shook above your legs.

Eddie’s eyes widened when he saw the blood, grabbing your shoulders in confusion. “Hey, hey- honey, look at me.” He turned your face toward him, more like pried it away from your lap.

“Shit- Eddie, I’m sorry, I- I got my period, I’m sorry.” You rushed, voice shaking and unsteady. You couldn’t keep your focus on him. You kept staring at your legs that were also shaking now.

“Baby, hey, it’s alright.” He cooed, scooting closer to you to wrap his arm around your back. “You don’t need to get upset. It’s not your fault, y/n, just take a breath, alright?”

You nodded, lifting your legs to try and avoid getting more blood on the blankets.

“Okay, uh- let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He looked your face over, sitting up more to grab your elbow. “That okay?”

There was no reason to have a panic attack over this. There was no reason to breathing so irrationally like you were doing. Eddie helped you stand, giving your shoulder a squeeze as he turned to the dresser where you kept your clothes. You tried to keep looking at him, but your eyes drifted back down to your legs. Your hands were vibrating at your sides, your chest continued to burn. You watched as a small bead of blood rolled down to your knee. Then it hit you.

You froze, your stomach flipping upside down. God, there’d been so much blood on you that night. You bled for days. You’d had to throw out your clothes so Eddie wouldn’t see.

“Eddie,” You cried, bile resting at the back of your throat, eyes wide with terror. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie-”

“What, what, y/n-” He grabbed your face, throwing down your clothes he’d gathered when you started completely panicking.

“Get it off me!” You screeched, sobbing as you looked down to your legs. “Please, please, please!” You begged him desperately through violent cries and a thrashing body.

He quickly reacted and practically dragged you to the bathroom, flipping on the light and throwing the shower curtain open. He turned on the cold water and grabbed your waist, putting both you and him under the freezing cold water.

You didn’t react to the water that hit you in the face, or Eddie dropping to his knees to grab hold of your legs. You went into a frenzy. You bent your body over his head, hand smacking against the shower wall to brace your weight. Your body was overcome with a disgusting feeling of violation, your skin buzzed with ick and you heaved above him. The nausea in your stomach turned into a burn, an ache that wasn’t even really there, only in your head, but that was real enough for you. You screamed and grabbed your stomach with your other hand, eyes clamped shut and cold water making your clothes heavy, Eddie’s too.

Fear surged through your body, although fear never quite seemed to sum up the feeling, and your breath came too quickly. You weren’t getting in any air. Your skin buzzed and your throat was raw. You were practically screaming, hovering over Eddie. And then you gagged, nearly tripping over him as you gripped his shoulder, a mixture of water and stomach acid barely dribbling out of your lips and onto the shower floor.

All the while, Eddie’s hands were furiously trying to get the blood of your skin, the water turning a crimson red. His hair was wet and stuck on his face, black sweatpants now extremely heavy. Your clothes were stained but the water helped the brightened tone of it. He didn’t even look at you. If he did, he’d be lost. He had to fix what was making you panic to get you to calm down. His ears were thumping from how loud you were, sobs and shrieks making his bones rattle. Then he heard the tail tell sound of you throwing up.

When the water was no longer red, he finally breathed. “Y/n.” He said firmly, standing quickly on his own unsteady legs to catch your flaying arms. “It’s gone, baby, it’s gone. Look, look, it’s gone.” He grabbed your face to get you out of your trance, guiding you to look down. “Take a breath. Breathe. Breathe.” He pulled you to his chest, not even really sure if you were registering what he was saying.

And you didn’t, but within a few more minutes of hysterics, you pushed your face away from his chest to look down to your thighs. They were clear and the blood was gone. The sounds of your panic were quieting down and your arms finally locked around Eddie’s like his were on you. You could hear how loud his heartbeat was against your ear, your body shaking, and not just from previous anxiety.

The cold water was still beating down on you, Eddie shushing and rocking you gently all the while. He kissed and rubbed the back of your head, caressing your neck and your temple, doing everything he could to make sure you were grounded and wouldn’t pass out. You had before. But he could feel your deep, shaken breaths against his own, and he knew you were alright now.

You stood there until you both were shaking from the freezing water, but it brought a sense of relief that you didn’t want to leave. Your mind always felt empty after attacks like these, but it had been so long since you’d had such a bad one. Why hadn’t you been able to brush this one off? Why did it bother you so much? Your period had never triggered this kind of response from you? You couldn’t be back tracking your progress.

Everything seemed like a foggy dream now. The assault was not front and center anymore, neither was the image of your bloody and bruised thighs. You were okay now, but you fucking hated the fact you still had to deal with these. They were just so damn scary, and you sure as shit knew they scared the hell out of Eddie.

Eddie reached behind him to turn to water off, carefully guiding your steps over the edge of the tub so you wouldn’t slip. You both were shivering, and he grabbed a towel to wrap around your shoulders. “Get you some clothes, huh?” He said softly, tapping your chin as he guided you out of the bathroom.

He picked up the clothes he’d had before and sat them on the bed next to you where you’d sat down, trying your best to get off your sopping wet clothes. He gently grabbed your arms and tapped them so you’d lift them up, and he peeled your shirt over your head, helping you take down your sleep shorts and ruined panties. He threw them in the corner of the room.

You attempted to dry yourself but your limbs were too shaky, so he took the towel and crouched in front of you, taking your legs in his lap so he could dry you. You let him. He thought you were going to fall asleep because you looked so out of it, but it wasn’t nothing he’d seen before. He knew you needed to have time before you could talk about it.

Once you were dry and changed, Eddie did the same to himself, keeping his eye on your sunken form. You were left in a state of deep sorrow, an aching guilt that always crept up in you after a panic attack. Once Eddie started drying his hair, you got off the bed and walked out of the room without him noticing. You just needed a moment to yourself. Just a minute.

You curled yourself up on the couch and pulled your legs close to your body. You couldn’t do anything else but cry. You called these little moments pity parties, the tremors of a meltdown that you never could surpass. You buried your face in the material of the couch, weeping softly.

When Eddie followed you out there, his first instinct was always to go to you, always, but he had to give you a minute to cry. He was sure that over the years his jet black hair had turned a few pieces grey. He ever actually checked, but he could imagine he’d get the salt n’ pepper look before thirty. He always felt guilty for his broken heart over you, because he knew it didn’t hold a candle to what you’d been through or how you felt. When he decided you’d cried alone enough, he went to you.

He sat on the edge, barely having any room, and laid his torso atop of yours, his chest against your back to hold you as best as he could. He kissed your shoulder repeatedly, his fingers brushing away your wet hair comfortingly. “I’m sorry.” You cried, tears dropping down your face.

“No, no,” He whispered, barely audibly as he kissed your cheek. “It’s alright, baby.”

You cried for several more minutes, curled up on the couch with him hovering over you. He gently rubbed your back and gave your torso kisses and little nose rubs, hoping to ease your sorrow in anyway.

“I wasn’t going to go to my meeting tomorrow.” Your voice cracked, staring off into the space of nothing.

Eddie said nothing, perching his chin on your shoulder blade so you could talk. He knew you were ready.

“I thought- I thought I didn’t need to.” You admitted, a flame growing to your face that he didn’t miss. “But when I saw the blood I- all I could think about was..was when,” Your voice broke and your eyes glazed back over again when you felt Eddie tense.

“It’s been so long since I had one that bad. I thought maybe I was done.” You sniffled, silent tears rolling down your face. “I just…I don’t know, it just..I- don’t,”

“Shh, shh,” He petted your head, lifting slightly off you. “You don’t need to rush. I’m here, take your time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face in the couch, whining out a little cry mixed with groans, feeling frustrated with yourself.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Stop that.” Eddie said sternly, squeezing your arm. “Don’t say that. You’re not stupid.”

You didn’t answer him, you just cried. You’d never really felt so much self hatred after a panic attack before, but right now, you were very aggravated with yourself, for your body to still be so affected for something that happened so long ago. You were tired of having these attacks in the middle of the night, keeping Eddie up and worrying him to death, begging him to take you to the hospital even though you knew deep down that you weren’t dying.

“You know you have to talk to me, baby.” He said softly, rubbing your back. “You gotta tell me what you’re feeling.”

You knew that, but you also knew he wouldn’t want to hear you say the things you felt, right now. Either way, it wasn’t fair.

“I’m mad.” You croaked.

“Mad?”

You nodded, still pressed into the cushion of the couch.

“Why?” His fingers traced your spine.

“Me.” You cried. “I hate myself.”

You felt his hand stop, his gaze sharpening on you. “Why?”

“Because,” You hiccuped.

“Because, why?”

You whined through tears and forced yourself up, your hand digging a fist into the couch. “Because I’m a fucking mess!” You scoffed.

“I act like I’m fucking unstable.” You whimpered, wiping at your face. Eddie stared at you, holding his palm on your lower back.

“Y/n-” He swallowed.

“I shouldn’t be doing this anymore!” You started sobbing again, looking at the floor, anywhere but his face. “I can’t- my entire life is just- just focused on what happened and it’s so humiliating!” You started to pull on your shirt and he took his hand away from your back, knowing you didn’t want to be touched.

“I’m tired of freaking out and I’m tired of meetings! I’m tired of- of everyone saying how proud they are of me and that I’m strong. I’m not fucking strong, look at me, I’m a fucking wreck all the time!” You wailed, snot dripping down your nose as your head hung low.

“It’s so embarrassing, I shouldn’t be doing this shit a-anymore.” You bent over to press your elbows into your knees, burying your face in your hands. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Eddie never knew what to say when you said things like this. He could help you with anything and everything else, but hearing you talk to negatively about yourself made him sad. He had to force back tears that glazed over his eyes, taking a shallow breath.

“Sweetheart,” He refrained from scooting closer to you. “What’s got you saying this stuff, huh? You’ve not said anything like this before.”

Your body shook from your tears. You couldn’t possibly imagine that you had anymore to cry, but they kept on coming. “It was my fault.”

Eddie paled at your remark. “Y/n. Stop it.”

“It was.” Your chest heaved as you balled into your hands, hair still dripping wet. “It was my own fault and I- my dress..my d-”

“Hey,” He grabbed your shoulders and made you face him, eyes focused and jaw clenched. “What are you saying, huh? That you asked for it?”

Your sobs were loud in his face, your skin red and blotchy, snot dripping over your cupid’s bow. “It should’ve been- longer.”

This wasn’t the first time you’d said something like this before, but it never was easier for him to hear or for you to say.

“What about Nancy then?” He grabbed your face to hold you upright. “What about her dress? Would she have asked for it if she’d been raped instead?” He said sternly, almost harsh, because it was vital to him that you understood.

“Answer me, y/n.” He shook you lightly. “Would she have deserved it?”

You shook your head, voice quivering and full of emotion. “No.”

“No, she wouldn’t, and neither did you.” His eyes glazed over. “You didn’t fucking deserve that and you didn’t fucking ask for it, okay? You can’t think shit like that, understand? You just can’t.”

You grabbed his thick wrist and squeezed. “Then why did It happen?”

He touched his forehead against yours, sighing deeply. “I wish I knew, honey. I’m so, so sorry. I wish you could know just how sorry I am, but baby, you gotta believe me when I say that I’m not going anywhere, alright? You know I’m not. You don’t need to be embarrassed around me. There’s nothing you ever need to be embarrassed about, alright?” His lips ghosted over mouth, nose edging yours.

“That’s what you do when you love someone. You take care of them, right? It’s what we do.” His heart ached at your broken face, your tears now slowing and sobs quieting.

You caught your breath, gulping and swallowing loud, sniffling and blinking wet eyelashes as you tried to calm yourself. You were growing exhausted, your body too tired to keep itself so worked up. “I just wished it didn’t happen.” You said softly. “It’s..it’s hard to like who I am now.”

He kept blinking away his tears. He always had his breakdowns in private. “Well, I like you.” He gave you a delicate smile.

He took his thumb and swiped at your tears, fixing your wild hair and sweeping it from your face. He wiped your nose with his sleeve. “We do it one day at a time remember? Just because tonight was bad doesn’t mean tomorrow has to be.”

“I know.” You muttered, staring at his chest while he stared at you. “I wish you knew how much I love you. Loving you is the only thing that’s ever felt stronger than..than him. You keep me sane when everything else around me is insane.”

Him. Him.

Eddie gulped, grabbing your waist. “Come here.” He pulled you into his chest, leaning back to rest against the arm of the couch. He wrapped his arms tight around you and you laid your cheek against his chest.

“Baby, it’s okay to not be okay all the time.” He said after a moment, his face pressed in your hair. “It’s not all going to go away.”

You didn’t say anything. You knew he was right.

“And that’s nothing to be ashamed of, you hear me?” He continued, your legs between his. “When there’s a bad day we work through it, don’t we? Don’t we always get through it?”

You nodded slowly, sniffly. “Yeah.”

“There’s no reason to hate yourself, y/n. I wish you could see yourself how I see you.” His palms were pressed against your back, cheek pressed against the side of your head. You could feel how erratic his heartbeat still was.

You both sat in silence for awhile, still allowing your body to calm down. Your mind kept replaying how worked up you’d gotten all because you’d gotten your period. That just didn’t make any sense. It had never triggered you before. You couldn’t remember what had caused your last panic attack.

“I just don’t understand why it still bothers me.” You said after a moment, voice drained and exhausted.

Eddie’s head leaned against the arm of the couch, still holding you close with his legs wrapped around yours. “Y/n,” He sighed heavily. “You always..”

“Always what?” You peaked up at him.

He swallowed and met your eyes. “You always downplay what happened and- and you just..you just can’t rush healing from that, honey.” He said carefully, not wanting to push your buttons, but he said only truth.

“When you’re talking about..what happened you.., well you always tell me ‘it’s okay, eddie’,” He rested his hand at the base of your neck.

“And it’s not okay.” He squinted his eyes. “What happened is not okay, but you are, y/n. You’re okay and you’re alive and you make me so damn proud, you know it?” He cupped your cheek, pressing his forehead to yours again.

“No matter what happens, if things get bad, nothing will change between you and I. Okay?” His breath blew against your lips, a salty tear falling down your cheek. You nodded, gulping, and he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Will you go to my meeting with me tomorrow?” Your voice broke. If you hadn’t been so out of it, you would have seen the tear that fell from his eye.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll go with you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #i’m always going to take care of you #eddie munson series #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic

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