Fucking Hate It When The Stuff Everybody Says "actually Works" Does Actually Work.

executive dysfunction is literally like. ive had a random dollar on my floor for two weeks and i dont know when ill fit it in my schedule to pick it up. people dont realize this

Part One Two Three

Eddie’s laid flat on his back, it’s not particularly comfortable. He’s on a yoga mat on the grass. The sun is shining, so Eddie has his shades on and his eyes closed, but it still feels too bright. The sun feels too warm on his already itchy skin. He’s vaguely aware that his cock is probably doing it’s own version of ‘saluting the sun’ or whatever the fuck the pose is called, because his rut still isn’t done.

Eddie’s jerked off a couple of times, a little half hearted. Sometimes crossing the finish line and some times not. He’s never had a rut last this long and it’s pretty miserable. The not full nature of it is somehow making it worse; like his system is sluggishly working through years of blockers and inducers and general abuse, so it doesn’t have the energy to tip Eddie into a full, proper rut.

“This is bullshit,” he tells the sky.

Next to him, he hears Steve hum a vaguely agreeable noise, and then there’s rustling as he moves. Eddie squints over just long enough to see that Steve has bent himself into yet another highly improbable pose. He’s making a big show about how good he is at breathing.

Eddie can breath. Steve isn’t all that.

Steve’s dumb floppy hair falls forward, and Eddie just wants to give Steve a shove and watch him topple over. It’d be easy, the way he’s balancing.

Low hanging fruit, Eddie decides, and closes his eyes again.

There’s more rustling, and Steve’s just sitting there now, criss cross apple sauce, hands resting easily on his knees. Stupid yoga pants with leaves and flowers printed on them, like Steve doesn’t care what he looks like.

Yoga pants that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“What are you doing?”

“Meditating.”

“Is it working?”

“Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t.” Steve answers evenly.

Eddie decides to sing the green bottles on a wall song, he starts at one hundred, but looses steam at around ninety seven when he realizes Steve is showing no outwards sign of being bothered.

Eddie sighs. Flops over onto his stomach and sighs again.

“Why am I here for this?”

“Chrissy said you said you wanted to try yoga, so here we are.”

“That is not what happened,” Eddie flops back over onto his back indignantly, “she told me that she’s been doing yoga, and that she thinks I should try it. She said it might help.”

“She’s right, it might.”

“I don’t see how.”

Steve’s quiet for a second, then, “you know when someone comes to the door, and the dog barks like crazy?”

“I don’t have a dog, and no one ever comes to my-”

“Hypothetical dog. And front door.”

“What color?”

“The dog or the front door?”

Eddie tuts, “the dog. The hypothetical dog, what color is it?”

“It’s a golden retriever.”

“Okay, yeah,” Eddie waves his hand vaguely, “go on then.”

“It’s really difficult to train a dog to stop doing something; the best way is to train it to do something else instead. So, you train the dog that when there’s someone at the door, it fetches a toy or something. Reward when the dog meets you at the front door with the toy.”

“Are you actually a dog trainer? Like, I’m so insulted, why did they get me a dog trainer-?”

Steve snorts, “my point is, the dog can’t bark if it has something in it’s mouth. It takes ninety days to build a habit.”

Or seven or eight lines, Eddie thinks absently. “What, and I can’t get high because I’m too busy being bent up like a wanna’ be pretzel? Bullshit.”

“I think it’s more the frame of mind Chrissy was-”

“Got fucking high playing twister once. So, yeah, calling bullshit.”

“Yeah, makes sense. It’s rough anyway, yoga. Lots of core strength.”

“Shut the fuck up, try playing a three hour gig, you don’t even know core strength.”

“Right right, yeah. Of course.”

“Show me the, the stupid thing,” Eddie gets up, “the one with the ass in the air, I’ll show you. Can’t be that hard.”

“Sure, start by standing up straight...”

“I tried the stupid, the thing. The yoga thing.”

“Eddie that’s great! How was it!”

“I’m broken. Don’t tell Steve.”

Chrissy snorts down the line, “awww, you’re getting on okay with him then?”

“He’s got a great ass.”

“Eddie!”

“Might fuck it.”

“Oh my Jesus Christ Eddie no-!”

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Best behavior. Scouts honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

Eddie snorts, “no, definitely not. Bet Steve was though. Where did you even find this guy anyway? He knows how to like, do everything. He made waffles for lunch, ate like, four of ‘em. Even the fruit.”

“He got you to eat fruit? That’s it, I’ll hire him full time right now, he’s never leaving-”

“Pffft. Shut it. I’m not that bad. Besides, he’s probably got like a wife, and two point five kids and white picket fence to get back to.”

“I...actually don’t know anything personal about him really.”

Eddie hums vaguely, because that’s boring.

“He said your ruts not done, if it’s not any better in forty eight hours they want to send someone to do a blood draw.”

“Great. You know I love a nurses- hang on, wait. Is Steve reporting back to you? What else has he been telling you?”

“Not much!” Chrissy says in a bright voice that Eddie instantly knows is a lie, “and he does work for me Eddie, I mean, be reasonable. I need to know you’re okay.”

“You can ask me if I’m okay!” He takes a deep breath, feeling kind of angry and not just a little betrayed.

“I...Eddie. Your...what you tell me about yourself isn’t always...accurate. At least, it hasn’t been.”

“Oh, what so now you don’t trust me?”

“Eddie, come on-”

“No. Fuck off.” And Eddie hangs up the phone.

Eddie stews on it for a bit. Then storms through the house. He finds Steve on the couch, reading a book, “you! You fucking- you, you Judas! Get the fuck out of my house!”

Steve doesn’t even stand up off the couch, just lowers the book a bit, “I’m sorry?”

“Where the fuck do you get off, huh? What have you been telling Chrissy? Did you tell her about the other night? I bet you did you fucking snake-”

“You want to read what I wrote?”

“I- what?” Eddie deflates instantly. He was expecting Steve to put up a fight or deny it or spout some bullshit about confidentiality or something equally wank and made up.

“I do have to report back; Chrissy is my employer. This is my job.”

“But you’ll...let me read it?”

Steve shrugs, “it is about you.”

Every twenty four hour period appears to be it’s own email. All neatly laid out. It starts with if Eddie’s had a wash or not, and it turns out that Eddie is not a fan of having his personal hygiene clinically reviewed on a daily basis. It’s followed by what he’s eaten and drunk that day; or at least, what Steve’s seen him eat and drink. Not that Eddie’s been snacking much; he’s too thin right now, he can tell that by looking at himself in the mirror. It’s not a good look; it’s not the kind of skinny that would have the tabloids saying how great he looks.

It’s the kind of skinny that would have them speculating about eating disorders.

Right after that is just...notes. Clinical but...vague.

EM supported with nesting. “I have not nested.”

“No, but I changed your sheets.”

EM continues to show poor engagement with nutritional food. “Steve. I’m not eating the fucking salad.”

Steve shrugs, “you’re not eating much of anything.”

Eddie tuts.

EM continues to be disinterested in any scenting/is not showing any particularly Alpha behaviors despite continued rut. Sex drive/mating urges still appear to be low/non existent. Eddie isn’t even going to touch that one; in fact he does a solid job of pretending he didn’t even read it.

Eddie skips back a day, looking for his little nighttime misadventure. EM restless during the night. Reluctant to engage in talking therapy. Encouraged primal therapy; worked well and resolved without incident. EM exposed to positive fan feedback.

“Restless?”

Steve shrugs, “you were, weren't you?”

Eddie slides down in the office chair, “Steve, I was looking to score, I’m not some ninety year old who wouldn’t stay in bed.”

Steve shrugs again.

“Okay I guess...I mean, thanks. For covering for me.”

“Just calling it as I saw it. You didn’t actually go anywhere...I like to think you’d have come around before you made it to the gate.”

The...optimism. Faith. Trust. Whatever that Steve’s just shown is kind of...prickly and uncomfortable, “you can’t know that,” Steve shrugs, “how did you know, anyway? You got a secret spy camera or something? Door alarm?”

“No just...good instincts for this kind of thing, I guess.”

Eddie ‘harrumphs’ dismissively.

“You should call Chrissy. Apologize.”

“How do you even know-”

“Eddie,” and Steve might not be physically, like, rubbing his forehead or pinching at his nose in despair, but his tone is doing a lot of heavy lifting, “you stormed in here angry that I was spying on you. I am just doing my job, okay? You’re a smart guy, you don’t need me to point out to you how that behavior looks from the outside,”

“Meh meh meh meh looks from the outside,” Eddie mimics back in the most childish voice he can, “smart guy meh meh.”

Steve’s eyebrows twitch a tiny bit, “paranoid Eddie. Pretty classically paranoid.”

“I-oh.” Eddie stops for a second, because...well. He tries to be angry, because what the actual fuck, but the anger part has kind of already happened. Steve's watching him, not in any kind of way, not really. He’s just...prepared.

“I imagine it...like a stage,” Steve starts slowly.

“What, like I’m on stage?” Because that’s an image Eddie can get behind. He knows that feeling. The heat of the lights, the physical force of the crowd screaming. The weight of being the absolute center of the universe for literally thousands of people.

Steve moves to the couch, leaving Eddie in the office chair, “yeah, sure okay. You’re on stage, and you’re...calm. Competent. You have a plan right? You’re centered. There’s...harmony. You’ve done this a hundred times, the band backs you. You are yourself, right?”

“Okay…” Eddie says slowly, no fucking idea where Steve is going with this.

“So the crowd is...also you. Parts of you. But you have control over the crowed, right? You tell them to get their phones out for the lights, or one half of them sing and then the other half sing, right?”

Eddie does do that, it vaguely makes him think Steve has at least seen a recording of a gig, because that’s pretty accurate. He likes interacting with the crowd. Likes getting them involved and playing games like that to get them hyped. It’s the most fun part of the gig. “Sure.”

“Okay so...the audience is you, the good bits, and the bad bits. So...something unexpected happens, and maybe you get angry, or scared, or...restless,” Steve says carefully, “but they want control, so they get on the stage with you. Now you’re not in control any more. There’s too many people on the stage and not enough left in the audience, it’s chaos, right? There’s not enough of you left out there for you to...take control. The stage is loud and crowded and you can’t find you in the middle of all that, follow me?”

Eddie does. He can. He’s always had a fucking stellar imagination, and a stage crowded with fucked up versions of Eddie is really easy to picture.

“So...the first thing you learn is to recognize it’s even happening. Step one. Just that.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “and then one to ten with The Count after, right? Shapes with Big Bird?”

“Only if you’re good,” Steve smiles at him, and Eddie feels like it’s the first genuine one he’s gotten so far.

hey, can my cat stay on your blog for a little while?

i'm going out of town for the night and could use someone to watch her

First you procrastinate on the task because it is not a big enough deal to get done urgently. Then you procrastinate on the task because it has become such a big deal that doing it is overwhelming. You would think that this implies a middle point where it is just big enough of a deal to get done easily, however the inherent perversity of the universe's causal geometry prevents this

Robin: Steve, why is Eddie biting your arm?

Steve: oh it’s a good stim for him, especially when he’s happy. Plus it feels good

Robin: You two are so weird

Steve holding his other arm out: wanna try it?

Cut to Dustin bursting in, seeing Robin and Eddie biting at Steve’s arm and promptly walking right back out

Mmmmm

"Losing My Religion" by R.E.M.

A Steddie break-up fic where Steve, hopeless romantic Steve, is in a whirlwind romance with Eddie. And Eddie who finally gets his big break and plans to leave Hawkins in the rear view. It starts slowly, just little things Steve doesn't take to heart: Eddie getting distracted in the middle of a cuddle session or a kiss or even sex, Eddie pulling away quicker (but he's still loving on Steve so he doesn't really care), maybe cancelling more on their date nights or claiming that he's got plans already made with the Corroded Coffin boys.

And then the space between them just gets bigger and bigger and bigger, and Steve is left behind in the dust. Abandoned again. He's always looking to Eddie, but Eddie's not looking back. They're arguing more. There's a knot, a strain weighing on their relationship.

When Steve begins to pull back, Eddie barely puts in the effort to keep him tethered. And Steve, gullible and hopeless romantic Steve, lets Eddie get away with it. Because any attention is better than none. Even if he's going to bed alone every night, waking up to a going cold space beside him. Even if he's biting his fist during an argument, saving the tears for a quick shower. Even if he has to choke back on his emotions, because any big outbursts he thinks will push Eddie further away. Will spiral them out farther.

But then Eddie just abruptly leaves. Leaves their life, their friends, Hawkins as a whole. And Steve has to get his number through Wayne, who thought the boys were still together.

And it's not until Eddie answers with a, "Hello? Oh—hold on, babe, somebody's on the phone," that Steve finally puts two and two together. They aren't even dating anymore. He hangs up before say anything.

Eddie's left with the distant sound of somebody breathing on the other side and the dial tone. Never to hear from Steve again.

...anyway!

served my duty as an autistic artist and made a bunch of autism creature reaction images

Eddie doesn’t really like Steve on principle and Steve knows he shouldn’t take it to heart. People are allowed to not like him, but he really wants Eddie, Dustin’s other “older guy friend,” to like him. Robin says that Eddie doesn’t hate him. Steve knows she’s just trying to help his “low self-esteem caused by his daddy issues.” Which is crazy because Steve has mommy issues too, thank you very much. Either way, Eddie not liking him wasn’t a big deal, except when it became a big deal. You see, the Party often made fun of him and Steve had grown used to the hormonal teenagers being bitchy. Mike was often the first to start a jab at Steve’s clothes, part-time dead-end job, lack of romance, or crunchy hair. Steve was not expecting the Party’s, or more specifically Mike’s reaction to Eddie’s snarky “Well, you’re not the most intelligent are you, King Steve? Too many blows to your jock head, huh?” Mike spitting in Eddie’s face as Dustin and Lucas dragged him back wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Maybe a smirk or a repressed snort of amusement. Not Mike screaming “You don’t get to say that. He saved us. He saved Lucas. Shut your fucking mouth.”

Steve didn’t tear up at all.

Steve will drop lore on Eddie in this ‘everybody knows this, catch up’ kinda way when it painfully clear that everybody absolutely did not know this.

Like, Eddie asks Steve to move his chair so he can slide passed him like three time in the middle of a party at the Byers and is being ignored. Finally, he’s like, “Ground control to Major Asshole. Can you hear me?”

Steve’s only notices him because he kicks his chair in the process and is like, “Oh, sorry, man. Gotta talk on my other side. I lost my hearing on this side.”

Which, great.

Eddie feels like an asshole but he can actually put that to the side because the whole table is just like, “…what? Since when?”

“Um…” Steve says, like. Yeah. This is common knowledge. “Two years ago?”

One time in the middle of the summer, Eddie is ogling the freckles across Steve’s shoulders at a pool party when Steve yawns. Eddie jokingly asks if teaching Robin to drive tired him out that much and Steve’s like, “Nah, I had a seizure this morning. Those tire me out for days. It’s so annoying.”

“Woah,” because Eddie didn’t even know that was something on their radar. Neither did Nancy judging by the whole plate of hotdogs she just dropped on the ground.

Steve causally mentioned that he didn’t have his appendix anymore a couple weeks after they closed the gate officially. Eddie asked when he had the surgery expecting an answer to be when he was a kid, but Steve gives him a weird look like, “Uh, couple weeks ago.”

“A couple - what?” Jonathan sputtered from across the room. “A couple weeks ago, we killed Vecna.”

“Yeahh???” Steve rolled his eyes. “And then I had my appendix taken out. That’s what happens when you’re stabbed.”

“You were stabbed?!?”

“C’mon, man. You were there. Keep up.”

Eddie is shut up mid-sentence by lips against his and, wow. Whoa. Steve Harrington kissing him right now and Eddie should definitely kiss back but, “You like guys? I’ve had a chance this whole time?”

“I’m literally bisexual.”

I love this development!

To answer the question:

Puss in Boots is original a German Fairytale written down in the collection of the Grimm Brothers. (There seem to be documents that the tale could also be original from France)

In german it is called:

„Der gestiefelte Kater“

Der is the male article -> the

gestiefelte is an adjective which describes the following noun as somebody/something that wears boots

Kater means Tomcat.

The Tale is about 3 millers sons after the dead of their Father.

The oldest gets the mill.

The middle one gets the donkey

The youngest gets the cat.

The cat can surprisingly speak and tells to the youngest, that if he buys him boots he will help him. The youngest says yes and in the end the cat does a lot of things that end in the youngest marrying the princess and being King.

The one thing I can not explain is why puss was choose instead of cat or Tomcat in the English translation.

I hope this answer the question for all of you reading the post and starting to question the name. (Because you probably only know this character from the Shrek universe)

Why is his name Puss in Boots? It's like calling a rooster wearing socks Cock in Socks