#but we really only got the hurt here

[ebongawk]

Eddie and Chrissy have a big fight/argument/misunderstanding (but with a happy resolution please 🥺). Just for hurt/comfort sake.

Eddie couldn't wrap his head around it.

Reconnecting with Chrissy Cunningham (yeah, that Chrissy Cunningham) five years after leaving Hawkins to snap at his heels while he went out and made a name for himself had, at the time, seemed like an act of fate. He'd just gotten out of a year-long situationship that ended when their mutually agreed upon exclusivity had, apparently, been too exclusive for her.

Eddie wasn't heartbroken or anything. He didn't really let his attachments take up that much space in his chest, but it was disappointing to realize that, yet again, he was deemed not enough by a person with whom he'd expended so much time and effort.

But, whatever, right? Who gave a shit. Rockstars weren't supposed to dip their fingers into one honeypot at a time, anyway, so to speak. And Eddie was kinda in a place where he should have wanted to explore that.

(He didn't, but that seemed secondary.)

Then, in aforementioned act of fate, Chrissy Cunningham showed up at his signing booth at the end of a show, and all that space in his chest he hadn't allowed another person to occupy was suddenly pitched with a For Sale sign, paperwork drawn up and just waiting for her to take out the mortgage.

Wonder of wonders, she fucking did.

They'd just celebrated a year together by buying an adorable little three-bed townhouse in Carlsbad. It was kinda dated – the wallpaper had definitely been picked out by someone's grandma – but it was theirs, and Eddie fucking loved it. Chrissy did, too, if all the squealing was anything to go by.

Producers called up about a week later to let him know they were going on tour for four months, and Eddie and Chrissy were torn between elation and devastation, since she could only go with him for the first month before she had to be back at work.

Which was fine. They made it work. Eddie called whenever he had a chance and Chrissy had sent him off with polaroids and a letter about how much she loved him and the stuffed frog he'd won her at the San Diego County Fair and it was fine.

Except, recently, shit had been weird.

Like, weird weird.

Like, Chrissy could only talk for a few minutes weird. Like she'd missed his nightly phone call a few days ago because she'd been "out", and when he'd called her last night, he swore he heard a man's voice on the other end of the line.

He asked, and Chrissy explained that she forgot to mute the TV, but that was completely unlike her. Chrissy never forgot that kind of stuff because she always lamented that it was impossible to focus on their conversation if she had distractions in her periphery.

It hit him like a goddamn ton of bricks.

She's cheating on me.

And it didn't make sense, but then it did, because who the fuck wanted to wait around for some asshole guitarist in a band that barely had name recognition? For four fucking months? She was a publicist, for fuck's sake, she made plenty of money to support herself and Eddie was just the dead goddamn weight that nobody wanted––

He didn't want to believe it. But she knew he was getting home the following day, so Eddie did what any sane person would do. He boarded a plane twelve hours earlier than was originally planned, took a taxi to their new house, and was going to catch her in the fucking act.

Even if it ripped his heart to shreds with fucking dragon claws and made it impossible for him to ever love anyone else. That was just the fucking price he'd have to pay for trusting someone, he supposed.

The entire trip home (six hours), all he could think about was what he was going to say when he found her in bed with someone else. And he kept choking on his own tongue to keep the bile from coming up his throat.

Unlocking the door, Eddie set his duffel bag and guitar in the foyer, automatically toeing off his Reeboks (Chrissy was adamant about no shoes in the house) and walking down the hallway toward the kitchen.

It was empty.

Then, from up the stairs, a soft, continuous banging noise. Like a hammer tapping against a nail or––

Or a fucking bedpost hitting the wall.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Eddie rounded the corner and practically barged into their bedroom, shoulders heaving and fists clenched.

Empty.

A blink, then two, and Eddie looked around. There was something different about the room. Like, yeah, okay, it'd been a while since he'd been home, but the walls were... definitely not green when he left. Because they were covered in that awful wallpaper.

Right?

And... did they always have those built-in bookshelves around the picture window? And that window seat?

He nearly went to investigate, but then the banging started up again, and Eddie whirled around, looking at the ajar door of the empty guest room down the hall. Heart in his throat, he approached and cursed his own fingers for trembling like that.

(Didn't these hinges used to squeak?)

The room was not empty like it'd been when he left it.

In the middle, beneath a clear tarp, was a huge desk that was stacked with boxes. He couldn't make out everything hidden within them, but his synth pedal and headphones were spilling out over the cardboard tops.

Chrissy was standing on a stepladder in the corner, holding a hammer as she hung up... was that soundproofing?

Standing beside her was a man. A man Eddie immediately recognized as his uncle, given the bald head and set of shoulders. And, in the opposite corner of the room, Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler were screwing things around the pieces of soundproof that were already hung.

Things like...

A guitar mount.

Jonathan looked up, his eyes widening as he let out a loud, "Oh, shit," at the unexpected ghost haunting the doorway. His statement made the other three pairs of eyes turn on him, each of them widening with shock.

"Eddie!" Chrissy shouted, nearly toppling off the stepladder in her haste to get down. Wayne's arms automatically stretched to catch her, but she was halfway across the room, practically leaping into Eddie's surprised embrace. "You're early!"

"Uh," he said, his voice breaking as his mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. "Y-Yeah. Just, uh, caught an earlier flight."

Chrissy's pointy little chin dug into his chest, her grin broad and her eyes glimmering in the sunlight still streaming through the window. "Well. I can't even be mad that you ruined your own surprise, I guess. I'm too happy to see you!"

Eddie's hands were still trembling.

"Surprise?"

"Yeah!" she said, still giddy with excitement. Not quite leaving his uncertain embrace, Chrissy turned, broadly motioning toward the room. "I was building you a studio! For, um, for songwriting and stuff. Because I know you have to make appointments to go to the recording studio. So, we took down all the drywall and double-insulated in here, and we're just finishing up the soundproofing tiles!"

Fuck, she was still grinning. Looking up at him with bright, expectant eyes as she waited for his response.

Before he could formulate one, she bounced, her eyes widening again. "Oh, and! And! Look what I did to the bedroom!"

She grabbed his hand, walking him back toward the room he'd already seen and whipping the door open with a flourish.

"Ta-da!" she exclaimed, motioning toward the walls, the shelves, the window seat. "That wallpaper was awful, so it was the first thing to go. Then, Wayne came down a couple weeks ago and helped me fit these shelves in, so we'd have somewhere for all our books! Isn't it lovely?" She gave a dreamy sigh, leaning her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around his midsection.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

She was–– Jesus Christ, he'd been so fucking convinced that Chrissy was cheating, and she'd been... She'd been rebuilding their goddamn house from the inside out. Creating a home for them, where they'd just been living in a place they liked.

She wanted him to come back to a home he could love.

"Not," he rasped, trying to blink away the sudden buildup of moisture in his eyes. "Not–– Not cheating?"

Chrissy's brow furrowed, her grin growing confused as she shook her head. "No?" she said, giving a little giggle. Then, she looked at him for a long moment, her smile gradually falling as understanding lifted the shades from her eyes. As the furrow in her brow creased from misunderstanding to complete heartbreak. "No," she repeated, more sure, more broken, and Eddie felt, all at once, like the world's biggest asshole.

She unwrapped her arms from around him, stepping back.

"Chrissy––"

"I'll, um," she interrupted, backing out of the room. "You can explore, I'll just... I have some stuff to finish up, okay?"

"Wait, Chrissy––"

But she was slipping out the bedroom and down the stairs, making Eddie feel fucking awful for assuming the worst. Because he knew her – of course he knew her. And of course Chrissy would never do something like that. She–– God, she was so fucking good, way too good for him, and he couldn't reconcile that so he made her the villain?

Old insecurities were fucking impossible to shed.

Their three guests were still in the guest bedroom – the studio – and Wayne gave him a smile as he finished up his wall of soundproofing.

"Crazy, huh?" he laughed, joining Eddie in the hallway when Eddie couldn't bring himself to enter the room. "She was a gosh darn dictator, trying to get all this finished before you made it back. I think even Miss Wheeler in there was impressed." Wayne chuckled.

He just looked at his uncle, lost, and said, "Wayne, I think I fucked up."

(to be continued)

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EDYN TIDESTRIDER, CHALLENGER OF THE UNDERSEA, RIVAL OF THE DEEP. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR BROTHER WAS CHOSEN TO BE A WEAPON OF THE GODS? HOW WILL YOU UNDO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO HIM?

[al-luviec]

juvie buddies

[userautumn]

"not all men" but not in a men's rights way, in a "it's important to remember that men aren't the only perpetrators of cruelty, abuse, and evil and that subconsciously or consciously training yourself to view men as inherently evil and everyone else as inherently safe inadvertently puts you in a position where you're both vulnerable to attack or harm from people you otherwise wouldn't suspect, AND causes you to limit the number of allies you might have in a time of need" kind of way.

[perenlop]

okay so as a gen 5 stan who does adore the story in bw and bw2, and now that gen 5 has experienced both a vicious hatedom that wouldnt hear a single positive thing about the games, and now a super protective fandom that insists they were perfect and had zero flaws... can we admit now that the bw1 story at least was. a little mid.

[mr-stottlemonk]

made a timeline for monk tv for the folks cause it makes no sense sometimes.

[more in the tags]

[update: stottlemeyer's timeline found here]

[genekies]

tag vent

[running-in-the-dark]

it's been a month since we moved into the new apartment -

I'm so stressed. everything is stressful. we're still not done building the kitchen but it's getting there (slowly). mostly we just need to wait until we get a couple parts that weren't in stock when we ordered the rest. I'm hoping it'll be done by next weekend.

some of it is very frustrating with my brain specifically. I'm so bothered by all the tiny little things that no one else would even notice - like, some of the handles on the drawers are very slightly crooked (as in, less than a millimeter higher on one side) - but for me it's so obvious that it's impossible to ignore. my husband didn't even know what I meant when I pointed it out to him. there's also been a few slightly bigger issues, but we've solved them now (I think).

my eye has been twitching for like three to four weeks. not all the time obviously, but every few minutes. it's very, very annoying.

we still have no new info about when we'll have internet finally. it could take a while still.

on Monday a guy has to replace something in the electric roller shutters in one room - but we don't know which one yet. so either I'll have to let him into my room (awful, uncomfortable, will have to tidy up tomorrow so he could even get to the window), or I'll have to get both our cats into their carrier if it's the one in my husband's room (awful, difficult, one of them doesn't like that so he'll be scared and I'll feel bad).

also on Monday the electrician will install our stove (if he has time). then we're getting two ikea deliveries. and I've got an appointment with my (new) GP because I need a prescription, and I'm very (verrry) nervous about it.

I miss watching TV. I miss tumblr and YouTube and messaging my friends whenever I want and sending them photos all the time. I miss order and structure and (some level of) routine. I miss using real cutlery (we still haven't found ours lol).

when I was finally starting to get used to the noises in this place, the family above us moved in with their baby that cries all the time very very loudly and most of the time right above my room. so now everything is different again and I'm not adjusting well and once again I can't sleep.

but, I've listened to 14 audiobooks since we moved! that's been nice. it was the same way when we moved the last time (just over a year ago..). my favourite by far was The Thursday Murder Club. I've got the other ones in the series but I'm trying not to listen to them too quickly, so I'm gonna listen to three other books first (one is done already, so I should get there on Monday or Tuesday hopefully).

[amalg-em]

The thing about the lateral aggression I see in trans communities is that it's everywhere. All the time I see people parroting this idea that trans woman = most oppressed, trans man = spoiled manchild that never has any problems ever. And it's pretty disturbing how many people I've seen regurgitating it. People I cared for. People I trusted.

Did you know that transmasculine people have the highest chance of being a sexual assault victim? Higher than cis women, trans women, or cis men? But certainly that's nothing, right? Certainly that sort of trauma isn't the thing that irreversibly damages you, makes it harder to make life worth living?

Do you really think invisibility is a privilege? That being forgotten and ignored is beneficial? The last 12 months have been the worst of my life, and I've had the least support that I've ever had. Even my biological family has fucked off. The only thing keeping me from offing myself is the knowledge that it would leave my partner abandoned and unsupported. But surely I'm just being dramatic, right? Somewhere out there is a trans woman who has it harder than me, so how dare I complain.

The thing about suffering is that it's not readily quantifiable. It all sucks. It literally all sucks, all the time, and people can have the exact same amount and kind of suffering and be affected by it completely differently. It's utterly pointless to try to create some sort of hierarchy of most oppressed and we know this. We've known this forever. We literally have a term for it (oppression Olympics). We know that it's counterproductive and pointless to lash out at people on the same sinking ship as us because, well, MY end is lower in the water than YOURS so YOU don't get to talk about your problems. In fact HOW DARE YOU coin a term for the problems facing you, that makes you exactly the same as a TERF.

It's so fucking bleak out here. We could ALL be talking about our problems without demanding silence from others while we do it. We could be building solidarity with people who have different experiences, acknowledging those differences without trying to rank them, and give everyone space to be heard. There shouldn't be imposed scarcity of compassion - but there is, from people who claim to be compassionate, who claim to care about the struggles of people not like them. Not really though. Not unless you're the Right Kind of oppressed.

Today my social circle gets a little smaller. The world gets that much more hostile. And the noose of isolation tightens around my neck that much more. And somewhere, someone will find a vent post that I made while trying not to be another trans su|c|de statistic, and use that as proof that transmasculine people are a Lesser Breed of trans and don't deserve support, acknowledgement, or the ability to name & talk about our problems.

[abirddogmoment]

My beautiful dog finished his rally career in style, with three phenomenal qualifying runs and his rally master (RM) title!

I have had so much fun learning rally obedience with this little dog. He's forgiving when I'm not quite sure where my feet are supposed to be but sensitive enough to hold me accountable when I'm being unfair in my handling. I prioritized his confidence and joy in the ring over our ribbons and man, it paid off! In exactly one year of trialing, he finished off his novice, intermediate, advanced, excellent, masters titles (and more than half those runs were High in Class runs!), but more importantly, he looked thrilled to be playing the game.

It sucks that an injury is taking him out in his prime, but I'm so grateful that Mav was the dog I got to learn with. He's the coolest dog in the world. ❤

[elegyofthemoon]

well. i finished ch 17 of hi3. but at what cost

[hella1975]

just full force threw a shoe at my sister's face and when my mum got me alone after she was like 'you shouldn't clobber her. but i get it' 😭

[thedevilandhisbride]

how will we ever get the spark to wonder, question, and think deeply about art when someone says a prompt or two into a generator, and out comes a painting that doesnt mean anything, because nobody took the time to tell a story within it? how can anybody do that if the art has no meaning like with ai art? when it isnt meticulously crafted by the complex mind of a creative human?

you cant tell an ai to convey the hurt and betrayal of a mortal against their own hubris as they fall off of the high horse they pitched themselves upon the way that a human would, because ai isnt human. it will never be human. and to compare ai art to human art and call them equals is dehumanization, and it strips art of every power it has ever had across the whole of human history.

[wildevenusian]

i just don’t understand. why say ur ready to talk if you aren’t?

can u believe this post is what got me to reach tag limit

[carmenpeach]

i think its crazy i spent my summer suffering from some heart condition and i couldnt leave the house so i just sat and read dbz yaoi doujin with my boyfriend all day

[tricksterlatte]

The Online Fandom 7 Deadly Sins

sloth: complaining about how no one writes the tropes or pairings you like and bashing what's already out there, while refusing to create anything you desire yourself

greed: zine and other finance-related scandals with zero remorse for those negatively affected

gluttony: spending rent money on merch, experiencing buyer's remorse, then repeating the same process next month

wrath: anon hate over literally everything under the sun, even harassing official writers and threatening them if they don't make your ship canon

pride: devaluing other's characterizations and ships to praise yours as better, whether through a canon perspective or a moral perspective, when neither matter in the long run when it comes to your own enjoyment

envy: trash talking others' fandom creations or saying you won't bother creating anything because it'll never be as good as them

lust: fighting over who tops or bottoms because of your personal preferences when one, both, or neither could happen, especially when most of these characters never even kiss canonically nor have most people fighting done any of these things irl themselves