#living with the hurt

[wildlife4life]

Inspiration Saturday

Tagged by @steadfastsaturnsrings Thank you!

Do I have other wips besides NFL Buck? Yes. But lately I have been on an writing roll with this fic and I love all the anticipation there is for it. So, here is a mood board (collage?) and short snippet for inspiration Saturday. It is a continuation of Buck's perspective of draft night from yesterday. (Go here for all things NFL Buck)

"Ali is the sneakiest bitch." Buck mumbles in his boyfriend's shoulder and it shakes with his amusement, "She's also becoming my favorite person in the world." Eddie unburied his face from Buck's hair and dragged the tip of his nose down to press into the younger man's temple, "I agree with the sneakiness. I'm still trying to figure out how the hell she was able to get me in the theater to see you be drafted on such short notice. Also, either Ali is the nicest, most compelling agent or just downright frightening because that woman got the hotel staff to break their privacy policy and give me a key to your room over the fucking phone." Buck lets out a barking laugh and squeezed Eddie even tighter, "I've learned to never question her methods and just enjoy the end results." He pulled his face from the paramedic's shoulder and put a scant few inches between them so he could look into those soft tawny eyes he'd had hoped to see this day. God they were so much better than his imagination, wide and sparkling with pride and elation. "I am enjoying this result so fucking much." Eddie's warm calloused hand gently clamped the back of Buck's neck and closed the short distance put between them. Plush, warm lips pressed eagerly into Buck's and pushed away the last of his disheartened emotions from the draft. Almost everything he'd been wanting that evening, came to fruition, just not in the way he expected. But it was okay. Buck was kissing a man who he never even hoped of finding, yet here was Eddie, wanting him, loving him just as much as Buck does. The unexpected, helped him achieve his NFL dreams and so much more. So it was okay that Christopher wasn't present. Buck would see his best friend in a few short days and throw a just as grand celebration with him. (As for Maddie, soon the rookie quarterback will have the means and connections to help her.) It was okay that a part of himself had to be kept hidden, it wouldn't be forever. Eddie supported and understood staying a secret because he truly loved Buck and wanted him to achieve his dreams. It was okay and the ache in Buck's chest loosened. He still wants so much, but Buck understands he can't have it all at once. For the time being, he can embrace what he already has and that especially applied to his surprise guest. Eddie's kiss deepened and the fingers on his free hand traced the top button on the Texan's draft pick's dress shirt. Buck's own hands released their tight grip on Eddie's forearms and slid down to his hips. Buck breaks the kiss, just a for a quick second to whisper, "I want you." "You have me." Eddie replies breathlessly before giving Buck a devilish smirk, "But you can have me however you want." And Buck is definitely okay with that.

I know we all want things to be more than okay for Buck and Eddie. And maybe it will be. Or maybe, just maybe I really put these the boys through the ringer a few times... Wouldn't be a 911 fic if I didn't. Lol. But I do hope you all enjoyed!!!!!

Tagging (no pressure): @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @theotherbuckley @disasterbuckdiaz @devirnis @fortheloveofbuddie @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @lover-of-mine @jesuisici33 @bekkachaos @thewolvesof1998 @giddyupbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @hippolotamus @rainbow-nerdss @spaceprincessem @athenagranted @eddiescowboy @evanbegins @elvensorceress @malewifediaz @911onabc @911-on-abc @loserdiaz @hoodie-buck @try-set-me-on-fire @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @glorious-spoon @buddierights @prosperdemeter2 @lemonzestywrites @gayedmundodiaz @cal-daisies-and-briars @transboybuckley

[wellensittich01]

Dick 9 times out of 10 failing to hide a severe injury from the rest of the batfam because without fail when he’s tired or drugged or generally not firing on all cylinders his native accent comes out as thick as the day he met Bruce.

- - -

Bruce: Dick come down for a check up I saw you take that hit for Tim.

Dick, halfway towards the cave exit and still going, in the quietest voice possible: im fine

Bruce: Say squirrel and you can leave.

Dick:

Bruce:

Jason:

Tim:

Damien:

Dick: …skweeerrehl.

Jason: Get him boys.

[bigfatbreak]

dad villain au doodle pile

[giantkillerjack]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

[plain-text version of this post can be found under the cut]

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

Plain-text version:

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

P.S. Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

[nedlittle]

genuinely i think it's important for adults, especially in the plague times, to play pretend in our day-to-day lives. when i rub my back down with tiger balm so i can sleep without pain, i imagine i am a valiant knight tending to an old injury i received from a dragon. when i go to the store to pick up eggs and milk, i am a lone cowboy riding into town on a mission. when i turn my collar up against the wind i am a femme fatale who's killed 4 husbands and is scoping out a 5th. when i stomp around in the snow i am a doomed polar explorer. if being a little bit silly about my walk to the pharmacy helps me remember that life can be full of joy and whimsy, then so be it.

[nocternal]

a moment of silence for all us disabled ones who had to watch each of their friends move on with their lives without you and get jobs, go to school, have partners come and go, get engaged and move house etc.

shout out to my fellow struggling people who are still sitting in the same bedroom they grew up in. the ones who can't get a job, can't make new friends, can't find a partner or partners, can't move house and can't go to school.

I hope one day we can all find someone to at least sit with us in our rooms. I see you and I understand... and I'm sorry we can't be that person for each other

[milkywayes]

memento vivere

[hairmetal666]

It's Wayne that goes with him when he buys the truck. He offers to go with him. Uses one of his few days off to do it.

On the way there, it strikes Steve that his own father would never do this with him. The man hadn't even bought the Beemer himself, just sent an assistant to take care of it. And here Wayne is, driving them to a used car dealership, humming along to some old country-western song on the radio.

It takes three dealerships for them to find it, but Wayne is patient, stoic, takes careful note of the cars that catch Steve's interest. He asks the salesman if he can pop the hood, peers at the engine, kicks the tires. He asks questions Steve would never think of, about adjustments to the odometer, history of repairs, if it was in any accidents.

Steve never considered wanting a truck, doesn't think it's his style. But he's walking the lot at the third dealership, and he sees it. It's a Chevy, blue and white, a few years old. It's in good condition, but was obviously used for work.

He walks towards it.

"You like this one?" Wayne asks. If he's surprised, he doesn't show it.

"Yeah, it's--yeah," Steve nods.

Wayne does his checks, asks his questions, gives a nod of approval.

It's the first car he takes on a test drive.

He barely has it on the road before he knows it's the one. It surprises him. He always thought he was his true self in the BMW, but now--the engine has a throaty grumble to it, can feel it rumbling through his foot on the pedal, and it's--it's--perfect.

"This it?" Wayne asks as they pull back into the lot.

"Yeah, yes. It's. Yeah."

"Well, let's get to hagglin."

Wayne is, of course, an expert haggler. By the end of it, he's got a couple thousand dollars knocked off the asking price, Steve more than within budget.

They drive back to Wayne's little house on the outskirts of Hawkins, the one the government gave him, the sun just disappearing behind the horizon.

Eddie stands on the small porch, wide smile on his face.

"Wow, Wayne," he says. He wraps an arm around his uncle's shoulders. "You really did a number on him."

"It's a solid vehicle, Ed."

"Never took you for a truck man, Harrington," Eddie teases.

"Can't you see how gorgeous she is?"

Eddie raises an eyebrow, his smile not faltering. "Wow, it's true love then."

"Looks like it. Wanna come for a ride?"

There's only a second where Eddie hesitates, but then he's running inside to grab shoes, tripping on his way to the truck.

---

It happened like this:

Eddie Munson died in the Upside Down in 1986.

He's reanimated by Vecna for the final battle, a puppet to do his master's bidding.

When they win, when Vecna is dead in a pile of dessicated vines, they can't find Eddie. Scour the Upside Down for him and come up empty. They have to assume he's dead, like everything else there, kept alive only by Vecna's power. None of them want to leave without him, but the world is destabilized, they can't stay, El has to close the gates.

That night, Steve pulls the battle vest from under his bed, sobs into the blood-soaked denim, the grief from the loss just as fresh as March of '86.

He and the kids, they go visit Wayne. It becomes a regular thing.

Two weeks after the end of Vecna, Wayne calls him. He's panicked, near hysterical, nothing like the man Steve's come to know.

He goes, fast as he can, to Wayne's house. All the lights are off, the front door ajar, and he runs, clattering into the living room.

Wayne is in the recliner, face pale and strained, and on the couch--on the couch--

Eddie Munson.

His hair's lank, his skin sallow, the light in his eyes dim, but it's him. Unquestionably.

Steve does the only thing he can think of, calls Hopper. He shows up a little while later with El and Will.

"I called Owens," Hopper says.

"Why would you do that?" Steve is angry.

"Look, kid, I get it. But none of us are equipped to deal with this."

He's right, so they wait.

It doesn't take the doctor, El, and Will long to figure that Eddie is Eddie, even though his heart beats a little slow and his skin's always cold and his blood is slightly the wrong color. He's still at least 75% human, and that's enough.

Only those six people know. It's dangerous to tell anyone else when the world still thinks Eddie Munson is a serial murderer. Owens asks for time to clear his name, and they have no choice but to agree.

After two days, Steve thinks he should give Eddie and Wayne space, but as he rises to go, Eddie's hand grips his wrist. "Stay?" He asks. Steve doesn't leave.

It's hard, keeping the secret from the rest of the kids, Robin. He wants to tell her, more than anything. About how they share a bed most nights, how he's memorizing the shape of Eddie's body in a way he shouldn't, how the gentle desire turns to profound longing--but Eddie's safety is the most important thing, so Steve keeps it to himself.

---

They go out in Steve's truck almost every night, always on backroads. It's the only way Eddie can leave the house.

It's Steve's favorite thing, the only time Eddie seems truly happy. They roll the windows down, turn the music up, and whip around deserted farm roads. Sometimes, Eddie will stick his head out the window, shout out into the night.

Steve is in love with him.

He has no idea if Eddie feels the same, figures it doesn't matter. He'll harbor this flame for the rest of his life without complaint because Eddie is alive.

He thinks he's done a good job at hiding his feelings, thinks he's able to avert his gaze, hide his blush, when Eddie comes out of his room in only his boxers, thinks Eddie hasn't noticed how Steve's eyes linger when they share joints lying in the bed of the truck.

Except tonight--tonight--they're driving back home, and Eddie, he's been quiet, distant, fidgety, and now he reaches out to turn down the radio, which has Steve's stomach in a knot.

"You--Steve, you've been so great. To me and Wayne, and--you're family, you know? To us, you're--but--"

And Steve thinks this is it, that Eddie noticed, that he's being let down easy, and he wants to throw up, cry, but Eddie's still talking.

"You have a life to live, right? You're--you're 23 and you're not stuck here like me, and I know Robin is ready to go and the kids are--they're going to college soon, and you shouldn't stay here for me, I'm--"

"What?" Steve says.

"What?" Eddie echoes.

"I don't want to leave," Steve says.

"But--"

"Where you are is where I want to be."

"I'm in love with you," Eddie says. Cover his face with his hands.

Steve pulls the truck to the shoulder. His hands are shaking.

"You love me?"

"I'm sorry." His apology is muffled. "I didn't mean--I know this fucks up--"

"Eddie." He says, soft. "Look at me?"

One deep brown eye peers up at him. "Eddie, I--I'm hopelessly in love with you."

Both eyes now, mouth a bright curve. "You mean it, Harrington?"

"Fuck, can't get enough of you, Munson."

"You know, if I thought for a second anything like was possible, I would've--fuck, I would've made a move ages ago. I would've--"

"Shut-up," he whispers against Eddie's mouth. "Kiss me."

---

And later, Robin will ask if he has someone, and he'll say yes, and she'll ask, soft, "is it him?" and he'll nod, and they'll both cry.

Later, a news report, Eddie Munson's body was recovered from the bottom of Sattler Quarry, bearing the same wounds as Vecna's other victims.

Later, Chief Powell will hold a press conference, say they're looking for a man named Henry Creel, wanted on suspicion of killing his mother and sister and the aggravated assault of his father with an MO that matches the 1986 killing spree.

Later, Steve will shave Eddie's head, Eddie crying softly as the hair tumbles to the bathroom floor. Steve will kiss the tears away, one by one, say, "I know it's hard to let go. But we'll move away, to a place where people say 'you look like that guy, that Eddie Munson,' and you'll say, 'I get that a lot,' and your hair will grow back, if you want it to."

Later, they'll invite everyone to Wayne's , everyone except Dustin, busy in Boston with an internship, and Eddie will be there to welcome them.

Later, he and Eddie will take the truck, drive up to Boston. And Eddie, he'll spy Dustin first, walks up to him and says, "Pretty metal tattoos, little dude," and they'll all cry until Dustin stops to yell at them for keeping the secret.

Later, Steve and Eddie will leave MIT--Dustin screeching that they have to call him every night promptly at 8pm still ringing in their ears-- in search of their future.

[cottoncandyofterror]

I’m aliiiive!

And I’m bringing the gift of way too long movie scene redrawings!

This is from the terrific movie „Your name engraved herein“ and it’s just ❤️

Okay, bye! *goes back into hiding*

[teapot-of-tyrahn]

hey. hey... chat,

i think we need to discuss an incredibly plausible probability right now:

we've figured out how the life system works. if a red or yellow kills a player of a higher colour than them, then they get their life.

pearl “has died at least 1 time per session so far” pearlescentmoon is on her yellow life. she has two lives left.

scott "always sacrificing himself for his allies" smajor is on six.

the likelihood of scott killing himself for pearl again is statistically high.

and i think it will be a beautiful parallel. because this time she really will forgive him after all.

[demaparbat-hp]

Want to know what I believe, it's right here

Dig a little deeper and it's crystal clear.

Clear by Twenty One Pilots

[jibberjibbsart]

Link is a Hylian of few words, he wouldn’t dare inconvenience Sidon with his feelings for him. Especially not in the middle of a nationwide disaster. Besides… Sidon is already engaged to someone else.

Sidon is a Zora of too many words, but he wouldn’t dare let Link know his true feelings for him. Besides… it wouldn’t be fair to Link, because Sidon is engaged to someone else.

IF YOU ARE READING MY OTHER SIDLINK COMICS THERE IS NO ORDER IM SORRY IM JUST MAKING THEM UP AS I GO

[hanmegumi]

LMAO

edit: turning off reblogs because some of the people that are reblogging are extremely fucking moronic. holy shit

[featheredadora]

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

"Why?"

That one word sent a shock through Danny's system, like he was back in the portal being electrocuted all over again. Still, he knew what was at stake, so even though that look on Tim's face made him want to fall to his knees and explain everything, he knew he couldn't.

Instead, he raised his gun as the portals filling the sky multipled and merged together as the ghost zone tried to absorb their reality. Channeling his inner Dan, he gave Tim a mocking smirk, What? You didn't think all that was real, did you?"

"You...you're lying!"

Danny tilted his head at an angle he knew would look as smug and condescending as possible, and judging by the burst of rage he felt coming from Nightwing a few rooftops over, it worked. "Tim, you know better." He said in Bruce's voice, It was the exact thing Bruce had told them when they were starting thier relationship.

Everyone had disapproved when he had brought his new boyfriend home a few months after meeting at the skatepark. Bruce hated Danny from the get-go, more suspicious of him than he had been with any of the batkids' previous partners.

Danny opened his mouth to mock him more but was quickly cut off by a punch to the face, not by Nightwing, or by Robin, who was still racing towards him at seemingly Mach speeds. Nope. It was Hood, who looked madder than Danny had ever seen him, surprising both Tim and Danny alike.

"You did all of this just to steal our souls and trap us in some weird afterlife dimension as your slaves?!"

Danny had no idea where the slaves thing came from, but it sounds villainous, so Danny's gonna go with it, "Of course!"

[hajihiko]

It runs in the family