#there's still hurt

[lollaika]

Chapter 7 of The Agony is here!!!!

After half a year of difficulty finding the time and the creative energy to write, finally Chapter 7 is finished!! Featuring Season 4 happenings and Eddie's slow descent into a closer orbit around Steve. Excerpt below the readmore.

I am so happy with how it turned out and I want to thank @cuips-not-cute for all the support he gave me and all the effort he put in his drawings for this fic. I couldn't have done it without you, so from the bottom of my heart THANK YOU!!! <3

“You know you don’t have to do it. Give me that alibi, I mean.”

“I know.” Steve’s voice is flat. Two little words don’t allow for a lot of inflection, but there’s usually emphasis, anyway. Eddie had made a study of it, how many different ways you could say a word and have it change meaning because of it. He can’t read any meaning into Steve’s, though. Maybe tiredness.

“Then why do it?” He doesn’t know why he asks. Maybe the silence is getting to him, maybe he wants a distraction, maybe he just wants to listen to Steve more, to get him to talk as long as he needs to let out some kind of emotion.

“Because the best lie is telling a truth different from the one asked for. I thought you roleplaying types knew that.”

“Us roleplaying types. Right, cause we’re all the same.” He’s poking the bear, provoking, annoying. The coffee is still warm in his hands and the kitchen is cozy and well lit. Chrissy hovers in his thoughts.

“Yeah, you are. Kinda like us jocks are all the same.”

Eddie’s not used to being called out. He’s the oldest, the leader, undisputed, unfought. He thinks back to yesterday evening, to the last session of his Vecna campaign that by now seems to have happened months ago. Steve had made the same point then, too. Had said that it was Eddie reinforcing the stereotypes, keeping up the boundaries of artificial categorization into social cliques. He wasn’t wrong. It sucks to admit. But the memory reminds him that he hasn’t seen one of his new sheep for the last two days.

“What about Sinclair? If Henderson and Wheeler are involved in this, he’s involved, too, I guess?”

Steve nods. “Both of them,” he says. “Lucas got involved in ‘83 when it started, ‘cause you know Will went missing and the twerps couldn’t let it lie. And thank God they didn’t. I hate that they had to do it, but I shudder to think of what would have happened if they’d given up. We told him yesterday, and he’s chosen to stay with Jason, so he can make sure Jason doesn’t start doing stupid stuff, like going to search for a murderer he won’t find. And then Erica joined in ‘85 for the mall. Was in the Russian base with Dustin, Robin, and me. Great spatial memory retention. I wish I’d kept her out of it. Wish I’d kept Dustin out, too, but he’s the one who found the original transmission, so that would’ve been a lost cause.”

So, this is the way to get Steve to talk. Of course, it is. Even if Eddie had disbelieved the reports of a barbarian Steve Harrington – and shame on him for that – it had been plain from the way the kids talked about him that Steve genuinely loved them, each of them. Which is why Eddie does what he does best. He doubles down.

“God, I can imagine, he’s like a dog with a bone, that one. I’ve never met a child more insistent on getting their way than him.”

“Yeah,” there’s a soft little smile on Steve’s lips. Eddie wants to keep it there. “Only one who wins against him solo is Erica and that's because she’s a terror. Never ever make a deal with her, because she’s going to take you for all you’re worth and not feel a whit of guilt about it.”

“Awesome kids, though.”

“The best.”

There are deeper things they could talk about, more important things too, things that have accumulated between them in dried blood and corpses, in open wounds and broken spirits. But it’s just as warming as the coffee is, to see Steve open up a bit more, to see him light up from within, see his eyes start to shine, recalling memories with extreme fondness. Eddie doesn’t dare change the topic.

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push the heel of my palm into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[yogurtgut]

HI THERE!! HERE'S THE ROBOTNIK SIBLINGS!!! I AM NOT OKAY, SEND HELP :'''DDDDD

[bluegiragi]

blindspot (part 1)

early access + nsfw on patreon monster!AU masterpost

[wasyago]

tango doodles

first you make up a guy and then you struggle to draw him correctly

[lil-vibes]

all these two know how to do is put themselves in situations and then yearn afterwards smh 😔

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Helpy draws Michael the best he can,,

[saucefunk]

CONTROL YOURSELF

[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.

[knightofleo]

Angela Orosco Silent Hill 2

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Thistle Debut Day!

[reds-skull]

My mom named one of the street cats she feeds Tommy, so I thought to myself, "what if..."

[wolfythewitch]

Jon and Tim doodles

[ricesinspo]

☆ — "i care about you" (without actually saying it). by @ricesinspo, tag me if using!

— ☆ —

"close your eyes. maybe it might make things a little easier."

"i'm sorry i don't know how to help." they sit next to you. "i'm here if you need anything."

love languages!! learning which ones you enjoy receiving and using them

always going out of their way to make you feel loved / wanted.

to be loved is to be seen

sending random pictures of things that remind them of you. bonus if it doesn't make any sense

little greetings. daily. first thing in the morning.

periodically checking in, especially when you least expect it.

helping you do chores when you're too tired

— ☆ —

[draconym]

When my dad died suddenly, my mom told me, there's no such thing as last words. What she meant was, you've already said everything that could have mattered. And I do think that's true. And I think about that when I see those memes going around saying you have plenty of time. Sometimes you don't. Sometimes you don't get to say goodbye. Sometimes you realize it's been years since you got that last text or email or voicemail that you didn't respond to in time. So you have to remember that today is all there is.

[heilos]

Okay, I really need people to be more careful these days in accusing an artist of using AI when a ton of artists' styles are the ones being fed without permission into those very AI systems you're trying to fight against. At the very least, delve into their image posting history for even a minute or two to make sure. Throwing out an accusation like that can be extremely damaging to someone who did nothing more then post their art publicly. Don't hurt the same artists you're trying to look out for.