#Small steps for big progress

[aaliyawrites]

From Perfectionism to Progress: Aaliya's Story of Breaking Free from Procrastination

Hey there, I’m Aaliya, the pen with a story to tell. I’ve been with my human, V, since 2018, and trust me, it’s been quite the journey. I’ve seen her smile, cry, win, lose, fall in love, and sink into some deep pain. Her path’s been full of confusion, heavy expectations, and, well, let’s just say, a lot of procrastination. But through it all, she’s kept going. That takes courage — even if she’d never admit it.

You see, V’s methods aren’t always the best (and yes, sometimes they suck), but her heart is in the right place. This blog? It’s not about her past (at least, not all of it). It’s about where she’s at right now. But hey, a little context never hurt anyone, right?

V’s Battle with Perfectionism: The Journey to Self-Acceptance

Let’s get one thing straight: V is human. Shocking, right? You’re probably rolling your eyes, but it’s important. She forgets that a lot. In her world, her worth is tied up in accomplishments — money, looks, killer communication skills, friendships, or finding her "perfect" crew (think Luffy’s gang, for you anime fans).

She’s convinced that if she doesn’t check all those boxes, she’s just… not enough. She believes that if she doesn’t have it all, people will leave her behind. And if you’re sitting there thinking, "Well, that’s wrong," you’re absolutely right. But does she know that? Sure. Does she feel it, though? Not quite.

Knowing something’s wrong doesn’t mean you can magically stop feeling it.

Meet the Monster of Procrastination

For too long, V has been stuck battling Profecta — the monster born from perfectionism and procrastination. She’s caught in an exhausting loop where her efforts never feel good enough, and there’s always something more she thinks she should have done. This creates a void inside, filled with guilt and shame, which leads to procrastination — a victory for Profecta, her inner perfectionism.

Has she tried to escape this cycle? Absolutely. But she usually lasts 3-7 days before something breaks her rhythm. Overload or distraction stops her, and it takes her another 1-2 months to get back on track.

Love, Loss, and a Whole Lot of Mess

V, like anyone in their twenties, has loved with all she had. Her first love? Miss K. Yep, Miss. But Miss K didn’t return those feelings. She wasn’t interested in girls, in general. Even though V never fully accepted her feelings or confessed, they stayed friends. Miss K was her Safe Place — full of love, acceptance, care, and support But when their paths diverged, V convinced herself that she wasn’t worthy of Miss K’s time and never contacted her again. Also, those emotions connected to Miss K? Way too overwhelming for V to face.

Two years have passed, and V is still holding on. Too much? Welcome to the mess.

Did she try to move on? Of course! But she couldn’t bring herself to delete Miss K’s number. She’d still watch her stories online, and instead of deleting photos, she just hid them in a folder. Silly, right? But facing her feelings was too hard. So, she buried them under distractions.

Escaping into Fiction: A False Safe Place

When battling the Profecta monster became too much, V sought comfort in a form of escape — creating a fictional world where she felt safe and loved. It became her refuge, but soon it turned into an unhealthy coping mechanism. Instead of preparing for her exams during her gap year, she threw herself into fanfiction, reading it for 13-15 hours a day. Not exaggerating.

She isolated herself from the real world, cut off friends, and stopped replying to messages. Why? Because she felt she wasn’t enough. She’d suffered two huge academic setbacks, and even after taking a gap year, she couldn’t get back on track. The weight of her past failures made the present feel unbearable, so she sought refuge in a fictional world, even at the cost of her health, sleep, and academics.

The Turning Point: Letting Go of Miss K and Fiction

V cared deeply for Miss K and didn’t want to hurt her. She didn’t mind if her escape ruined her, as long as Miss K was safe. But one day, V’s thoughts took a darker turn. She imagined hurting Miss K emotionally, just to make her feel the same pain V was feeling. It shocked her.

That was when V knew she had to change. She deleted Miss K’s number, erased the photos, and cut all ties. She even stopped reading fanfiction — something she had tried and failed to do before.

A New Battle: Seeking Comfort in Unhealthy Escapes

Without her fictional escape, V felt lost. So, she turned to another unhealthy coping mechanism. Let’s just say it involved content that didn’t make her feel any better. She started seeking comfort in role-playing communities, hoping to find real love and comfort. But it only messed with her mental health even more.

Journaling: A Ray of Hope for Healing

Despite all the struggles, there’s been one thing that helps V find her way back: Journaling. When she sticks to it, things start to shift. Journaling helps her process the chaos inside her head. It’s not a perfect solution — she’s had bad days that stop her in her tracks — but it’s a start.

This is why V decided to start writing on Aaliyawrites. Because, let’s face it, Aaliya writes ;) .Through this blog, she hopes to create a space where healing becomes possible, even if the path isn’t always straight.

Building a Community: Sharing Stories and Healing Together

Aaliyawrites isn’t just V’s story. It’s for anyone who’s ever felt lost, stuck, or overwhelmed. V wants this space to be a community where people can share their experiences, support each other, and offer advice. Healing doesn’t happen alone, and through this blog, she hopes to help others feel a little less alone on their journey.

Have you ever battled perfectionism? Or found yourself stuck in an exhausting loop of procrastination? If so, V and I (Aaliya, the pen) would love to hear your story.

George Herbert once said, "Good words are worth much, and cost little."

Your words might be the lifeline someone needs.

So, What’s Next?

V is still figuring things out, but she’s trying. Her journey isn’t linear, and there are still battles with Profecta. But every small step she takes matters. And through Aaliyawrites, she’s hoping to keep moving forward — and hopefully help others do the same.

Please, share your story, give advice, or drop a few words of encouragement. Let’s build a space where we can be open, vulnerable, and support one another on this journey of growth and healing.

Final Thoughts: A New Beginning

This post marks the beginning of something new, not just for V, but for all of us. Together, we can create a space where healing and growth are possible, one step at a time.

Signing off, Aaliya the pen (P.S. — Classic Profecta move: this draft was written four days ago!)

[nymphrasis]

To those living on their own or roommate: How much do you recommend to save to be able to live out there?

[aberooski]

I'm proud of myself. Yesterday I did a big girl thing and called my therapist's office back cuz I missed a call from them on Friday, also yeah I recently started seeing a therapist because I am, not okay 😜 they didn’t answer but I left a message and when the receptionist called me back today I did the big girl thing and rescheduled my appointment I was supposed to have today cause she told me my therapist needed to reschedule because she wasn't feeling well today AND I got myself booked in for a mental health assessment in September. Phone calls are so incredibly horrifying to me for some reason and I was shaking the whole time both times but I did it, and I'm so proud of myself. 😭

[milo-is-rambling]

I can’t even imagine living without anxiety. Like. How. What?

[jez-bez]

[audaciousevolution]

Article of the Day: How to Track Your Goals Without Overwhelm

Staying on top of your goals doesn’t have to feel like a chore! Instead of getting lost in endless to-do lists, try these simple strategies to track your progress with ease:

✅ Focus on Progress, Not Perfection

📝 Use a Simple System

⏳ Set Check-in Points

🎉 Celebrate Milestones

Tracking should feel motivating, not overwhelming. Ready to simplify your goal-setting journey? Read more in our latest article!

[mrbizz1]

Forget Perfect: Embrace the Power of Daily Improvement

Disclosure and Disclaimer This blog post was created with the assistance of AI to ensure it is as informative and engaging as possible. Additionally, some of the links included in this post are affiliate links. If you click on them, I may earn a small commission. This comes at no extra cost to you. Your support helps me continue creating valuable content—thank you! The Illusion of Perfection: A…

[slowfuckintheafternoon]

18+ only please and thank you

Roommate Ghost who’s basically a rehomed cat.

You barely saw him at first. He’d come out of his room to do laundry, and you’d occasionally spot the back of him as he’s leaving for work, but otherwise it was like living with a ghost. A large, moody ghost who seemed to think eye contact was an unforgivable breach of privacy.

So you did the obvious thing, and coaxed him out with food. You’re lonely, he seems nice enough, and he’s also just conveniently there. It’s no big deal to make something that smells really wonderful when he’s home, and hope he’ll take the bait.

It takes three whole entire dinners. Two delicious meals without so much as a stir from his room, and you’re just about to give up on the whole scheme, when you’re finally rewarded with a tousled head poking out of his room on the third attempt.

“Want some?” you immediately pipe up, giving him an encouraging smile while you scoop noodles into your bowl. Realizing your mistake, you quickly relocate your gaze back to the food, so as not to scare him off.

Cmon, take the bait. Come on out, kitty. You know you want it.

Silent as ever, your massive roommate indeed emerges to fill his belly.

A soft, “Thanks,” is all you get for your efforts, but it thrills you. You sit there practically vibrating with glee, trying to play as cool as possible while you both eat and purposefully don’t speak to each other. There’s just chewing and silence, and the quiet clatter of spoons and forks, and you love it.

The next day, the contents of your personal grocery list have magically appeared in your refrigerator. The meat you needed, vegetables, your special milk for your cereal. Bemused, you step over to your pantry and verify that, yes, he got the dry stuff too. You weren’t planning to cook anything fancy two days in a row, but hell, if he’s around again tonight, you might as well.

But he’s not around. You don’t see him again for several weeks, never even got a text that he was leaving. You were just starting to make progress, and now it’ll all be erased when he returns. You lost your one window of opportunity for building trust, and it’ll be back to silence, back to emptiness, back to being strangers.

But to your surprise, when he does finally come home, he meows at you.

Not officially. Not in, like, actual cat language, but he drops his bag by the door and responds to your quiet greeting with a heavy sigh, and, "It’s good to be back.”

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face, so you quickly hide it by staring at the TV.

He joins you for dinner the next time you cook. And the next. Groceries pop up like spring flowers, anything you write down, even if it’s snacks he never touches.

He starts hanging out with you while you cook. On the other side of the counter at first, looming like a dark shadow, just listening to your music and offering answers to your small talk.

You keep it light. Keep it friendly and easy, and entice him over occasionally to taste what you’re making. He starts lingering closer, letting the kitchen light touch him, leaning against your side of the counter. The scary side.

And then one day he tells you a joke. Just completely out of the blue, “What do you call an angry carrot?”

“Uhh…” you pause peeling carrots for a second, trying to wrap your head around some scenario where this is a legitimate question, because surely he's not about to tell you an actual joke. “I dunno?”

“A steamed vegetable.”

You return to your carrots with a delighted laugh. He's being friendly, he's making jokes! Best not comment on the progress he's made, because you don’t want to scare him off.

Good luck with that.

He starts following you around like an actual stray cat. You can’t bear to close the door on him, so he’s just always there, hanging out in the doorway, telling you little bits about his day while you brush your teeth for bed. He doesn’t talk a whole lot, prefers to listen to you yap, but he’s shut in his room less and less.

Except for the bad times. Simon goes through phases where he recluses himself again. Sometimes it’s only a few hours, other times it’s days, but he occasionally needs time to himself, and you don’t mind. You still get a thrill every time he appears again, metaphorically meowing at you and rubbing up against your leg.

God, you wish he would. You could use some good leg rubbing, actually.

Is he the rubbing type? He’s never made a pass at you, never touched you at all, and even the times when you’ve hung out together in your room, he always stood politely in the doorway. Always turned his head to the side when you’ve had to open your underwear drawer or spilled sauce on your shirt and had to strip it off. He’s just like that, always aware of your personal space and his, uncomfortable about the two bubbles touching without warning.

When it finally happens, it's you who's surprised.

You've just halted mid-step in the middle of the kitchen, staring down at the corner of the cabinets because you swear you just saw something move.

When all of a sudden, and actual mouse scampers across the floor, doing erratic zig zags like it's too scared to decide where to go, and all you can do is scream because it's coming right for you--

A thick arm clamps around your stomach, and your feet abruptly lose contact with the floor. You've completely lost track of the mouse, you're just frozen in shock from the fact that your whole back is glued to Simon's side, and he doesn't even bother to hold you up with both arms as he swivels around searching for where the mouse went.

"Thanks," you squeak, patting his forearm as a signal to put you down. "You're really strong, holy shit."

He grunts like he doesn't agree. "Doesn't take much to lift somebody."

Your feet touch back down to the linoleum, and you just hope your hot face isn't too evident. "Right, uh huh. Cause I could definitely lift you."

"Probably could."

You eye him skeptically, all the way from his socks, to the always-mussed hair at the top of the mountain. "I don't feel like throwing out my back, but thanks for the offer."

"I wasn't offering."

It's just small talk. Regular jokes, with his usual deadpan delivery, but you swear there was something he meant to say in those words. You try to discern them, gazing up into those brown eyes that don't mind meeting yours anymore.

It's hanging in the air, the thing he meant to say. You don't want to try and guess. It's too risky, and you might hurt yourself if you get it wrong.

"What is it, Simon? What's wrong?"

His eyes stutter for just a second, like he's ripping himself out of a train of thought. "I think you should hide in your room while I find that mouse."

Stupid, cockblocking mouse.

You don't sleep well that night. You keep thinking about your quiet roommate, end up having to jerk off at two in the morning just to get a little bit of relief, and your sleep is fretful even after that.

You ask about the mouse the next day, and he swears he not only caught it, but released it in the woods a mile away. There's absolutely no telling if he's pulling your leg or not, so you just drop it, too absorbed in the questions that were haunting you all night.

"I'm not good at... fucking."

Your head snaps up, staring wide eyed at Simon's troubled expression across the table. "What?"

"I've never been with a woman before. At least, not... like this. Wager I'll make a fool of myself, so I might as well get it out in the open."

"Oh. Um." Your heart is pounding, your mind whirling to comprehend how you got here so suddenly. He looks so scared, holding himself rigidly into place without so much as blinking, and you're taking far too long to answer at this point.

"I'm good at it," you finally tell him, hoping it sounds more comforting and less like a brag. "We can figure it out together, if it's something you want to do."

"Okay."

It takes a little while to get there. Some time to find a natural moment to take his hand in yours, for him to return the gesture by wrapping his arm around your waist and bringing your body over to his. But then his hand finds the back of your neck, and he's definitely not a beginner at kissing.

You've wanted it for so long, imagined it so often, that the press of his body against yours almost feels familiar. The seeking movements of his lips, the soft breaths coasting over your cheek. It's quiet and slow, in the corner of your shared kitchen.

He tucks your body into his, lets you saturate yourself in each second of this moment while you both learn the way the other likes to kiss. You end up in your bed soon after, just for the sake of comfort and lining up your mouths a little more conveniently.

It's easy to lose yourself in the safety of him. Your body feels at home in the muscled softness of his, in the thoughtful, patient movements of his hands exploring under your clothes. It feels like he's belonged to you far sooner than today.

His first time isn't perfect, but he makes up for his inexperience by taking his time. Laughs at your breathless, "a hole is a hole" statement, and insists on exploring with his mouth and fingers first.

Simon makes the prettiest noises when he finds your wetness waiting for him. He seems to enjoy the feeling of it on his fingers, sliding them in and out so carefully, studying the textures inside you. He tastes his own fingers, less like a scientist and more like a little kid who's discovering new flavors in the sandbox.

He makes a sound then, a warm, rumbly one, and then pulls his fingers out of his mouth to lean down and find your clit with his lips.

A hole is a hole, but there's something special about whispering little cues at him in the dark, and the way he efficiently adjusts himself, ever the dedicated soldier. A hole is a hole, but you cum like that, with your roommate's strong hand gripping your hip, and his mouth accomplishing exactly the motion you need to draw a slow, brain-melting orgasm out of you.

"Yeah, just like that," you pant a few moments later, shoving his face away from your oversensitive pussy.

Just like that.

[glowettee]

25 Self-Improvement Hacks to Level Up Your Life⋆🍓.

Start each day by making your bed—instant productivity boost.

Plan your week with a pastel-colored planner or digital aesthetic template.

Set monthly intentions instead of overwhelming resolutions.

Learn a new skill every quarter, like calligraphy or coding.

Invest in quality over quantity (this applies to friends and shoes).

Schedule your “glow-up” days—DIY spa treatments, anyone?

Create a “success playlist” for studying or working out.

Listen to podcasts during commutes (multitasking = efficiency).

Take aesthetic notes using color-coded pens and highlighters.

Start a “things I love” gratitude list.

Implement a digital detox every Sunday.

Read at least one self-help book per month (hello, Atomic Habits).

Wake up 15 minutes earlier to avoid rushing.

Commit to a skincare morning and nighttime routine.

Learn to say “no” to protect your peace.

Create a morning mantra and repeat it every day.

Try monthly challenges (like daily journaling or yoga).

Write down your goals and review them weekly.

Spend time in nature to reset your mindset.

Journal about your dream life and take actionable steps.

Break down big goals into tiny, manageable tasks.

Surround yourself with inspiring people or creators.

Organize your phone with aesthetic folders and wallpapers.

Romanticize drinking water with chic glasses or infused flavors.

Reward yourself for small wins—progress deserves celebration.

[harmonyhealinghub]

One Step at a Time: The Power of Incremental Progress Shaina Tranquilino February 19, 2024

Life is a journey filled with challenges, dreams, and aspirations. Whether you're pursuing personal growth, professional success, or a significant life change, the path ahead can seem daunting. In those moments of uncertainty, it's crucial to remember a timeless piece of advice: take one step at a time. This simple mantra encapsulates the power of incremental progress, emphasizing the importance of small, consistent actions on the road to achieving your goals.

The Power of Small Steps:

Builds Momentum: Every big achievement begins with a single step. Taking that first step sets a series of events in motion, creating a sense of momentum that propels you forward. Think of it as a snowball effect – as you gather small wins, your confidence and motivation grow, making it easier to tackle more significant challenges.

Reduces Overwhelm: Ambitious goals can be overwhelming, leading to procrastination or feelings of inadequacy. Breaking them down into smaller, more manageable tasks makes the journey seem less intimidating. Instead of focusing on the entire mountain to climb, concentrate on the next step. This approach minimizes stress and allows you to channel your energy effectively.

Fosters Consistency: Consistency is key to success. Small, consistent efforts over time often yield better results than sporadic bursts of intense activity. By focusing on one step at a time, you develop a routine that becomes ingrained in your daily life. This sustained effort is more likely to lead to lasting change and achievement.

The Journey, Not the Destination:

Celebrate Progress: Acknowledge and celebrate each small victory along the way. Whether it's completing a task, reaching a milestone, or overcoming a challenge, take a moment to recognize your achievements. This positive reinforcement reinforces the idea that progress is being made, motivating you to continue on the path.

Learn and Adjust: Not every step will be perfect, and setbacks are a natural part of any journey. Instead of viewing them as failures, see them as opportunities to learn and adjust your approach. Reflect on what went well and what could be improved, then make the necessary adjustments as you move forward.

Enjoy the Process: Embrace the journey itself, as it holds valuable lessons and experiences. Life is not just about reaching the destination; it's about the growth, self-discovery, and resilience developed along the way. By savouring each step, you cultivate a positive mindset that enhances your overall well-being. In a world that often glorifies overnight success and instant gratification, the wisdom of taking one step at a time stands strong. Whether you're chasing dreams, facing challenges, or pursuing personal growth, remember that greatness is often achieved through persistent, incremental progress. By breaking down your goals into manageable steps, celebrating small victories, and staying focused on the journey, you'll discover the transformative power of one step at a time. So, take that first step – your future self will thank you for it.

[kisses4themissus]

Obsessive Lover || Hwang In-ho X reader

wc: 2.4k request: an obsessive!reader who joins the games for in-ho but turns her gaze to player 456. a/n: this is actually my fav concept I've written so far!!

masterlist ¦ pt 2

“Ms y/l/n, you can’t keep chasing after an unknown man.” The therapist sighed as he sat down across from you at the table. You sighed as you swirled around your water.

“He’s not unknown. I’m being honest he knows of me, i can feel it!” You giggled at the therapist. He sighed before writing something down on his small notepad be had beside him. You watched as he jolted something down and quickly flipped it over so you couldn’t be able to read it.

“Moving on, you haven’t made progress in six sessions ms y/l/n.” The therapist placed his hand on your thigh, you flickered it off before standing up and walking to the door.

“What progress? You mean you trying to get me to sleep with you?!” You chuckled at his shocked expression; majority of his clients had been woman. You weren’t there for his sympathetic therapy but rather he was quickest way to gain debt.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You groaned as you sat on a bench, waiting for the next train. You dug through your bag before pulling out your phone; zooming in on the map to a familiar memorial site. 

“May I sit here miss?”

You nodded, not looking up from your phone’s map. “Lost?” The same man questioned. Putting down your phone you glanced at the man with an upset look. He had his hair combed back, his briefcase place between the two of you. 

You blinked at the man before grinning at him. “Let me guess, you want to play a game?” You batted your lashes at the man, he chuckled in response. “I was told that you happen to be looking for a certain someone..” He motioned towards your phone.

You nodded, turning it off before scooting closer to the man. “Possibly, do you know how to get me there?” 

He nodded and opened his suit jacket and handed you a card. “Just call the number.” He winked before getting on the next train. You watched as he left before flipping the card over to see the number. You grinned before stashing it in your phone case. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

Weeks had passed since your encounter with the recruiter. You had entered the games and were picked up on halloween.

Classical music filled your ears as you woke up from your deep sleep. Looking around you watched with curious eyes as other players got up from their bed and made their way to the middle of the room. You quickly got up and looked around the room.

Your gaze stopped at player 456, he stood at the end of his bunk, his eyes lowered as he watched everyone. “Upset?” You questions, he glanced at you before sighing. “These people don’t know what they’ve signed up to do.” 

You tilted your head at his words. “You know something don’t you?” You questioned.

He looked at you before motioning to the wall behind his bunk, you followed his gaze to see a camera above you both, you smiled and waved, player 456 glared at the camera before tugging you away.

“These games aren’t what you’re expecting.” He spoke sternly, you felt your face heat up at the short distance between you both. “Are you going to protect me then?” You smirked at the older man. He stared at you for a moment before distancing himself from you. “I’ll try to keep you alive if you listen to me.” 

You nodded at his words. The big metal doors in the middle of the room opened to reveal pink guards, the square guard walked up to the front of the room, catching eyes of the players.

Player 456 walked further down the steps of the bunks, you quickly skipped after him. You both listened as the square explained everything, a big piggy bank had lowered down from the ceiling. “Don’t be tempted, it’s all blood money you’d be spending.” Player 456 whispered to you, earning a nod. “I’m not after money here.” You grinned at the man, who shook his head and turned his attention back to the pink manager. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

After you had signed a wavier, you had been told a game would soon begin. You had stuck beside player 456 and even his friend who he had met on the stairs. You had gotten 456’s name due to his friend yelling it out on the steps.

The bright sun filled your sight as you three stepped outside, you eyed the giant statute of a doll on the opposite side of the field. “What’s that thing?” You questioned out loud, player 390 gasped as gi-hun popped out his dental implant. You turned back and stared at the dental implant before taking it from gi-hun’s froze hand.

You inspected the small implant and giggled as the inside had been missing a tracker. Gi-hun stared at the doll in horror as the voice spoke up over the speaker. “The first game will be red light, green light!” 

You quickly pocketed the dental implant with a sigh before turning back to gi-hun and his friend.

Gi-hun quickly pushed his way to the front, leaving you alone with his friend, jung-bae. You listened as the voice told the instructions over the speakers. Gi-hun yelled and got everyone’s attention.

You both listened as gi-hun yelled. “If you lose, you die!” Everyone around you laughed at him, you furrowed your brows at his words. “What is he even talking about?” Someone yelled out from behind you.

“Is he high?!” 

You glared at the woman beside you. With a scoff you shoved her away. “If they catch you moving they will shoot you from above!” He yelled ot, a bit frustrated no one took him serious. Whirling came from the doll as it turned around and raised it’s hand to touch the fake tree, five minutes popped up on the board behind the doll.

Gi-hun turned back to the crowd. “Whatever happens don’t panic and just keep running.” He yelled out.

The doll began to speak. “The hibiscus flower has bloomed.”

You quickly listen to gi-hun’s words and ran. As the doll turned back you were right by gi-hun. His eyes ran over the crowd of frozen players. “FREEZE!” He yelled out.

You watched as the doll turn around. The eyes moving in different directions, once confirmed no one had moved it turned back once more. You had made it halfway across the field before tripping right before the doll turned around. You laid on the dirt, frozen. Once in the clear you scrambled to get up but stopped as another player, 196 stepped on your hand. You scoffed as you glanced up at her. 

“You bitch!” You cursed as she stopped on your hand. “Oops!” She grinned down at you.

You froze once more as the doll turned back to you all. You held back groans as she purposefully moved her weight to her heels, adding pressure to your hand.

Once in the clear, you had been able to get up, a familiar build had stepped in front of you. Gi-hun helped you up before stopping as the doll turned. 

From the corner of your eye you had seen the player that stepped on your hand move as a bee landed on her neck. She stopped and laughed, “Crap, I moved!” As she laughed, she was shot in her forehead.

“Don’t panic, stay calm!” Gi-hun yelled as he heard the gunshot. “Player 196 has been eliminated!” The announcement rang out on the speakers. You tensed up as gunshots began to ring from behind you as other players screamed and scrambled.

Once stopped the rules repeated over the speakers, before a list of players who had died. Gi-hun quickly ran to the front and began to direct everyone.

In-ho watched quietly in his living quarters as he watched gi-hun help player live. He quickly poured whiskey into his glass and reclined a bit in his chair as he watched players begin to form lines.

As it had gotten to the end. In-ho furrowed his brow as he watched gi-hun and another player both fall to the ground before the doll turned. He watched confused as gi-hun’s back covered the other player.

You stared up at gi-hun who stared directly into your eyes. You smirked at the older man. “In front of everyone? Didn’t think you had it in you!” You giggled at his fluster reaction. “When that doll turns we ned to get up and across the finish line!” He commanded, making you nod.

Once the doll had turned you both had sprung onto your feet and ran to the finish line, barely making it in time as the timer hit zero.

You panted with a grin on your face, suddenly the roof had began to close above you all.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Once back in the dorm everyone had been silent. You sat on the bed steps by gi-hun. “Thank you for saving me!” You smiled at the man, who nodded. “Thank you for listening to me.” He thanked you before moving his gaze to his blood splattered cover shoes. With a sigh you sat down beside him, leaving little to no space.

“Gi-hun, how did you know about the doll’s eyes being able to shoot people down?” You questioned. He sighed as his attention was his hands. “It’s not the doll, there are soldiers that are hidden.” He avoided the main part of your question.

Jung-bae walked over to you both and stood in front of you two. “How did you know about that doll? Is it true you’ve been here before?” Jung-bae questioned. 

Before gi-hun could respond the big metal doors opened, out walked pink triangles and their square once more, as the manager spoke about voting you watched as they set up a machine.

You watched as the room darkened and the piggy bank filled with money. Gi-hun sighed and tugged on your wrist to catch your attention. “No matter how much there is in that piggy bank, you have to vote to leave!” He pleaded as you held his gaze.

You nodded as you stared into his brown eyes. As voting began you watched as players were divided. When you had finally gone up you winked as you passed gi-hun. You pressed down on the X and received a patch, you quickly attached it to your jacket before bouncing over to gi-hun’s side.

You both watched as the vote finally tied, you all watched as the final player walked to the machine. The machine made a sound, gi-hun looked defeated as the board read out 51. “Very well, majority have vote to keep the games going.” The square announced.

In-ho turned back to face the crowds, his eyes focusing on gi-hun. His gaze shifted as he watched a familiar stalker comfort the man, leading him to the bunks.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You sighed as you sat next to a frowning gi-hun. “You said you’ve been here before, correct?” You asked, holding onto his arm. “Three years ago..” He nodded.

“You have advantage, you know what games were played.” You grinned, he sighed rolling his shoulders back. You both had spent the time talking about his previous game and the games he had to play in. You were interrupted by the workers announcing dinner. You quickly popped up and lead him to the line to get your food.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You sighed as you waited to hand back your dishes to the staff. You grew bored of waiting, you turned around to check on gi-hun, a crowd of player had formed around him your gaze had stopped as you recognized one of the player number 001; the one who had stopped gi-hun’s wish of leaving the place with everyone alive. You scoffed at the players who surrounded the man, asking him questions of his previous game.

Once your dishes had been handed back. You marched over to the now empty space. You sat back down next to gi-hun, watching player 001 with careful eyes. 

“If we stick together, everything should work out just fine!” Jung-bae exclaimed, another player hopped off their bunk and joined the conversation. “He’s right sirs, oh and miss.” Player 388 nodded in agreement to jung-bae’s words.

“Who are you?” Jung-bae questioned.

“Oh i’m dae-ho, kang dae-ho! I’m a big fan of this guy since his awesome freeze earlier!” He grinned, holding his hand out for the men to shake.

You nodded as you watched the man in front of you. You sighed, slipping your hand into your pockets, a sharp poke made you jump for a moment before grinning at the memory of gi-hun’s implant in your pocket.

“I’d like the pleasure of getting to know you all!” 

You hadn’t noticed the stare of in-ho as you were busy fiddling with the implant in your palm. Jung-bae had gotten up from where he sat and walked over to the young man and rolled up his sleeve. 

“You were in the marines?” Jung-bae asked, standing back crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes sir.”

“Class number?” He questioned, puffing out his chest.

The younger man laughed at the question. You all watched with amusement as jung-bae unzipped his jacket to reveal his marine tattoo. Gi-hun sighed at his friend. You leaned over and laid your head on gi-hun’s shoulder. “Thank you for saving me again, i’ll protect you from now on in here!” You smiled at the older man who shook his head at you.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to do that.” Gi-hun cleared his throat, trying to push down the feeling of fluster you had given him.

In-ho watched with jealousy, he had known who you were; the stalker you had gained a fascination with him. Sending him letters to his old office, visiting his ex-wife’s grave, leaving her flowers. You had been admitted to a mental hospital for delusions. He was a bit excited when he had heard the news you had drowned yourself in debt to get his attention, he had sent the recruiter after you, hoping to see your obsession in person.

It was offensive that you had switched your toxic gaze to the “loser” winner; seong gi-hun. You had careless of his identity being in front of you but brushed him to the side as you cuddled into gi-hun’s side.

“You two seem close, it’s cute.” In-ho’s word dripped of sarcasm, you had picked up on it and glared at the player before turning to dae-ho and jung-bae. 

“You seem like an asshole...” You muttered under your breath.

pt 2

[yukioos]

Hmo.. Viktor x drunk!reader, After attending an event and overdid it with the alcohol due to mel being best friends with reader (Progress day or other events that lets them loosen up) (No nsfw or yes nsfw!)

NASTY DOG

SUMMARY: viktor x reader // on progress day, you tend to celebrate and drink too much, ignoring viktor’s worries. you end up confessing your feelings to your best friend, and take your relationship a step further.

AUTHORS NOTE: eeeee this ask is amazinggg!!! i love the idea of mel n reader being best friends sm!!!!! this is 2.2k words, a lot longer than i expected it to be

WARNINGS: suggestive but no smut, making out, not a lot of mel and reader talking, mention about reader and viktor having maybe sex later, not proofread

the way the city of piltover progressed and changed throughout the years has always fascinated you. watching new inventions come and go was always interesting, and the city had a spectacularly advanced community. heimerdinger always tells you and the members of the piltover community stories about how he founded the city. he is especially smart in science and works hard to improve the lives of those around him, which you always admired.

you were pleased when you figured out he found a new assistant, viktor. he grew to be your best friend quickly, and always rambled about his studies and his mistakes. whenever he makes a new discovery, you are always the first person he tells, and he explains it with such detail.

he’s a handsome guy. you never understood why people weren’t all over him, maybe because he was closed off and spent his days in a lab. he’s a busy man, you know that as well as you recognize the palm of your hand, but he always finds a way to make time for you.

there’s no doubt he loves you. as his best friend, you are always his first priority, but he loves to indulge in his interests, that being inventions. as a way to spend time with you and enjoy science at the same time, sometimes he lets you sit next to him in the laboratory while he’s working.

he occasionally asks you to pass him an instrument he can use, but most of the time, he just tells you to sit there and look pretty. you know well that he doesn’t like to be bothered during his work, and normally he hates it when someone is in the room with him as he’s working. however, it’s a different story when that person is you.

he never feels bothered by you, no. in fact, you help him concentrate more than he does when he’s without you. he doesn’t mind the soft sound of you turning pages in the book he bought you, and he doesn’t mind when you stand up to take a small sip of water. he rather enjoys when you do those small actions without even realizing it’s a large thing for him. he can’t help but realize it brings immense joy to him when you ask a little question like, ‘what does that do?’ when he picks up an instrument for his work, or when you make a quick statement, ‘that’s a pretty color,’ when he oh-so unintentionally adds your favorite color to his works.

you’ve always supported him with his hextech project, even though you could get frustrated with the way he’s acted in the past. sometimes he would feel agitated because he couldn’t figure a part out, or if he messed something up. despite this, you’ve continued to tell him that a true scientist never figures something out perfectly on the first try. you hoped your words would affect him, and thank god they do. once you overheard jayce complaining about how something isn’t working right, and viktor repeated your words back to him. that of course, made your heart swell with pride.

you always knew the hextech would, sometime in the future, impact a whole civilization. heimerdinger said he’s never seen anything like it in his 314 years of living, nor anything that came close to it ever since piltover was founded 200 years ago.

speaking of which, jayce is planning to give the big speech tonight. lucky for you, viktor decided to give you front-row seats to the assembly.

jayce suggested that viktor should join him on the stage and share the speech, but he refused. it wasn’t uncommon for people to have stage fright. the speech was impressive, jayce did an amazing job, honoring each and every one of the members of piltover.

after the ceremony, a party was hosted by a volunteer group, who set up a large room full of drinks and a feast for thousands. you hadn’t had time to talk to viktor in between the ceremony and party, so you began to take a few drinks with mel.

you hesitated a bit, but eventually gave in when mel reminded you that it’s the only party piltover will have for their 200th anniversary. the fancy room is decorated with gold banners featuring the words ‘happy progress day.’ there are couches, tables, and booths all around, as if it is serving as an elegant restaurant.

not too long after, your vision starts to become blurry, and your words slur. you turn around to see viktor and jayce sitting in a dark red booth, most likely discussing their next chapter of hextech over a glass of wine.

you grin and cheer, then mumble to mel, “oh, it’s viktor! i’ll be right back, mel!” and she nods, chuckling as she softly pats your back.

you walk over to viktor with a bounce in every step, feeling giddy after taking one too many sips of wine. he quickly spots your recognizable figure and smiles at you, eyes softening at your stumbling body.

“i thought i told you not to drink too much,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder, rubbing it gently before continuing, “you know drinking isn’t good for you.”

his worried voice makes you smile, and your cheeks flush, as they always do around him. a warm feeling spreads your body, and you hum, staring at viktor’s bright eyes. jayce soon gets pulled away by someone who seemingly needs his attention, and lets out a little “let’s work on the hextech tomorrow, viktor,” ending with a small goodbye.

“oh, good! now i have you all to myself!” you smile, placing your arm on viktor’s bicep, “didn’t you talk to heimer— heim— um…” you mumble, putting your finger to your lip and rubbing your temple, “i can’t remember, vik…”

“heimerdinger?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion. you must be drunk out of your mind if you can’t even remember the professor’s name.

“oh, yes! such a sweet guy… anyway, he talked to you about your new little gadgets, right? how’d that go?”

he knew you’d forget in a few minutes, but responded anyway. he sighed with frustration, “jayce and i showed the professor that the hextech is safe. he approved, of course, but i even found out a way to fortify the crystals, as you might remember me testing it out yesterday. we showed him the gloves and the hex claw—“

“i love the hex claw! it’s sooo cool, i love how you can control it with your own hand!” you comment, smiling and looking up at viktor through your eyelashes.

he blushes and nods, “eh, yes, thank you. we worked hard on it— but, anyways, heimerdinger explained the gadgets will most likely be perfected in a decade. i mean, why can’t we use the equipment now? i understand there are a few things wrong, but they would help the community so much!” he furrows his brows in frustration, eyes squinting.

“awh, baby, i know you worked hard on that. heimer— heim… um…” you forgot his name again, causing your best friend to smirk and chuckle to himself. you place your hand on his chest, “you’re real handsome, vik. don’t understand why people aren’t all over you.”

the way you look up at him with big eyes, your hand on his chest, gets his heart racing. he suddenly feels more nervous with the compliment and your actions. you rub his chest so caringly and keep glancing from his tie to his eyes.

you move closer to him, “your heart’s racing, baby. you nervous?” he bites his lip and glances to where jayce would have sat, trying to avoid your intimidating gaze.

he feels so small around you. not in a bad way, of course, you didn’t break him down, but instead built him up and made him a more confident version of himself. but when you were like this, when you flirt with him like this, his heart melts. he swears he would’ve fallen to his knees if he was standing. he would never admit it to anyone, but you could take over his life, control every single thing he does and he’d still be happy because at least he’d be with you.

“y’know, you’re so sweet, so caring and loving. you’re the smartest person i know, and you don’t get much credit for it. i hope you know i love you and everything you do for me and this city, vikky. i really mean it.”

i love you.

all his problems disappear when you say those three words, and his eyes visibly widen. he doubts you for the first time in his life, and he asks, “did councilor medarda tell you to say this? are you messing with me? because if you are—“

“sweetheart, i’ve never been more serious in my life. you’re my best friend, but i want more. i want you.”

you slowly straddle his lap, hand still perched on his chest. you look deep into his eyes as if you are trying to find his soul hidden inside.

he remembers you once said if you had to merge souls with anyone, it’d be him. you claimed you wouldn’t complain about anything, and you’re practically the same person. it truly was an intimate conversation with him, and you finally spoke out that you wanted to stay with him for eternity. you just wish you knew how.

you rub his chest, wishing you could rip his vest off and feel him, skin-to-skin. you completely forget you are in a public space, however, the chatter and people had died down, and most retreated to their homes already.

you bring a hand up to his cheek, and he can’t help but lean into the comforting feeling of your palm. rubbing his cold cheek, you feel shaking hands on your waist. you grin and glance up to his eyes, then down to his lips multiple times, trying to find any part of him that doesn’t want to go through.

but you can’t find anything, so you close your eyes and softly kiss his lips. you have a party in your head, congratulating yourself for finally kissing him and confessing your feelings. your lips continue to move against his cold ones, and soon you begin to hear soft whimpers from the man.

you grin into the kiss, understanding the effect you have on the scientist. moving your hand to the back of his head, you feel adrenaline coursing and pumping through your veins. this is the most exhilarating moment of your life.

he grips your waist tighter, and one hand moves down to your ass. it lingers for a couple of seconds, waiting to see if you’ll push it off. when you don’t, he grips the plush of your ass hard, and you whimper into the kiss.

he feels proud of himself, loving your reaction to the small action. he brings his other hand under and up your back, feeling the soft skin against his palm.

you feel as if you’re about to lose oxygen and pass out, not wanting to break up the kiss. you push past your wants and desires, moving away from him for a split second. the combo of his tired eyes and plump lips is surely a sight. a string of saliva is still connected to your lips to his, but you don’t care.

god, you need to be closer to him, you need to be one. you grip his shoulder and tugged on his hair, eliciting a moan from his mouth. you push your lips against him, always wanting more from him. you whimper against his lips, however, still being the dominant figure in the action.

moving closer to him, you feel safer, and heat blooms from his chest. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, still keeping a hand in his soft hair. as you move closer to him, your chest pushes against him. he groans, feeling your soft and warm body close to his.

he’s knocked out of his thoughts when he’s reminded that you’re in a public space, and he taps your unclothed arm. you hate to part your lips, but concede, as you need air.

you whine against his chest and bring your hands back to rest on his shoulders. he mumbles and stutters, “s-sweetheart, we really shouldn’t be doing this here. we should go back to your room—“ he looks like he wants to say something more, but he catches himself and bites his tongue.

“i know that look, vik. don’t feel guilty about this, i didn’t have too much to drink, i’m aware of my actions, i’m okay.” you smile up at him and give him a quick peck, more intimate and cherished than the last, “let’s go up to my room.”

he smiles, and you stumble out of the booth, viktor follows right after you. he grabs his cane and stumbles, still nervous and sweaty after the interaction with you. you hold his hand and continue talking to him, rambling about some show of how two characters are gods who represent life and death, who happen to be each other’s spouses.

you recommend he watches the movie, but deep in your mind, you’re still thinking about how you could make yours and viktor’s night even better.

viktor listens to all your words, he always does. but now, he just wants you to shut up, he wants to consume you and become one, as you said a few days ago. he tries to not grip your hand tightly, trying not to express his feelings at the moment, of how badly he wants you.

[reasonsforhope]

"In a historic step toward the first-ever restoration of the tiger population to a nation where they were once extinct, two captive Siberian tigers have been translocated from Anna Paulowna Sanctuary, Netherlands, to the Ile-Balkhash Nature Reserve in Kazakhstan.

This remarkable event is part of an ambitious program led by the Government of Kazakhstan with support from WWF and the UN Development Program to restore the Ile-Balkhash delta ecosystem and reintroduce tigers to the country and region, where the species has been extinct for over 70 years.

“It is a high priority for Kazakhstan to work on the restoration of rare species. For ecological value it is important that our biodiversity chain is restored. And that the tiger that once lived in this area is reintroduced here,” said Daniyar Turgambayev, Vice-minister of the Ministry of Ecology and Natural Resources of Kazakhstan.

In the early 21st century, genetic studies were carried out on bones and furs held in national collections which revealed that the population of tigers living between Iran, southern Russia, Central Asia, and the areas around the Caspian Sea was extremely similar to Siberian tigers.

This led scientists to conclude that Felis vigrata, the former name of the Caspian tiger, was simply the Siberian tiger that developed into a distinct population, but not a new subspecies, over generations of being separated by habitat fragmentation.

Bodhana and Kuma, the male and female tigers, will be housed in a spacious semi-natural enclosure of three hectares [7.4 acres] within the Ile-Balkhash Nature Reserve. Any of their offspring will be released into the wild and will become the first tigers to roam Kazakhstan in decades, and potentially the first-ever international tiger reintroduction.

They will play an important role in the establishment of a new tiger population in the region where they had previously been wiped out as a result of excessive hunting.

“Today marks a monumental conservation milestone to bring tigers back to Kazakhstan and Central Asia,” said Stuart Chapman Leader of WWF Tigers Alive. “This tiger translocation is a critical step to not only bring back the big cat to its historic homeland but also to rewild an entire ecosystem.”

Progress towards restoration of the area is already well underway with recovering and reintroduction of critical tiger prey species like the Kulan (Asiatic wild ass), and reforestation of over 120 acres with native trees. Being the apex predator, tigers will play a significant role in sustaining the structure and function of the ecosystem on which both humans and wildlife rely...

“With the launch of the tiger reintroduction program, we have witnessed a significant change—the revival of nature and our village of Karoi,” said Adilbaev Zhasar, the head of the local community group Auyldastar.

“This project not only restores lost ecosystems, but also fills us with pride in participating in a historic process. Because of small grants from WWF, we have the opportunity to do what we love, develop small businesses, and create jobs in the village, which brings joy and confidence in the future.”

From the very beginning, the local community around Ile-Balkhash Nature Reserve has been closely involved in the project. This includes support for improved agricultural techniques and the future development of nature tourism in the area.

The translocation of these tigers is the first of several planned in the coming years, with a goal to build a healthy population of about 50 wild tigers by 2035, starting with this pioneering pair for breeding. This initiative is not only a testament to the resilience of the species but also a powerful example of governments, conservation organizations, and local communities cooperating in wildlife and nature conservation."

-via Good News Network, November 27, 2024

[tinakp]

Confronting Workplace Problems: Small Steps, Big Changes | Chris Beer, the Wizard of Ops™

Ever found yourself ignoring those big, ugly workplace problems? We've all been there. But it's time to face those issues head-on! This video is your call to action to transform your work environment into a healthier and more positive space.

[includedisco]

Remember that every day is an opportunity to be a better fanfiction writer than you were yesterday. That being said...

...improvement isn't only in the big things like writing a 10k story in one sitting or responding positively to negative comments on your work. Progress is in the seemingly small but actually big things too;

You finally learned how to correctly spell that word you frequently use.

2. You found a different word you can use in place of the verb you've abused

3. You wrote a whole ass paragraph for your draft without feeling insecure about it because you're finally understanding that drafts are meant to be messy.

4. It's taking you months to complete the next chapter of your story. At first you felt bad about it every second of your day but now you actually haven't felt bad for a whole hour. Slowly you're understanding that art takes time and you deserve to be patient and kind with yourself.

5. You took the step to read/listen to a random post about how to write better. Maybe you haven't put that advice into practice yet but hey, you clicked on it and listened/read till the end

6. You managed to read one of your own posted stories, ill feelings about it or no

7. You now celebrate every vote/kudos/like you get on your story because you know that a real human being is behind it, loving your work, shoddy as you think it might be.

8. Today you woke up caring a little less about how your stories aren't that popular in the fandom. Finally you're learning to write for you and to just dwell on enjoying the writing process instead of focusing on how the world will receive your story when you post

9. You read comments on your story which suggest you take your story in a certain different direction, but you successfully ignore those suggestions and courageously stick to the story you want to tell.

10. You ended the day still resisting the urge to have AI write your story for you.

Congratulations to you, most improved writer, even if only one of the items on this list resonates with you👏👍🤝

You're still growing and improving after all.

[bigsloppycrush]

collagen [eddie munson]

there was a time while eddie was still healing when he wouldn’t let anyone touch him. eddie’s always been the kind to lick his wounds in private, and for a while it felt like he was all wound. 8k.

undead!eddie (kind of), f!reader, no use of y/n, fluff, angst, first kiss, processing trauma, lots of talk of scars. cross-posted to ao3. originally inspired by my idol @luveline 's fic 'love bites'. go read it.

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Eddie stares at himself in the small mirror of the medicine cabinet. He contemplates his body from the waist up, trying to discern if any of his scars appear a little fainter, a little less noticeable. His face seems to have healed nicely, no raised skin despite the slightly uneven colouration in places. His body is a different story; deeper wounds heal differently. He’s been using the fancy oil Wayne got him after every shower. He isn’t sure it’s really making a difference but it smells good so he uses it anyways.

Eddie spent a long time recovering after the Upside Down, feeling and looking like the undead. Face gaunt, hair limp, skin marbled with reds, browns, blues. Most days he still feels only half alive. On good days, he plays it up in his mind. How metal is it to be the world’s first zombie, he thinks to himself. On worse days, he can’t do much other than rot in his bed, unsure if he was ever meant to make it out alive.

He traces the big scar he deems the worst of his collection, ghosting his fingertips down his neck, towards his chest. He gets lost in the sensation, absentmindedly running over skin, scar, skin, scar. The thought of you flits into his head and for a moment, Eddie wonders what your fingers would feel like on his chest. He gets carried away briefly, entertaining the fantasy of intimacy. He can’t remember the last time he welcomed the physical sensation of someone else’s skin on his. Certainly it had to have been before he became Hawkins' resident zombie. In the safety of his head, in the privacy of his small bathroom, he rules that your fingertips would feel like angel kisses all over. But what would your lips feel like? The question enters his mind and he flushes, embarrassed to be having thoughts like this about you. You were his coworker and also his friend, and friends do not think about their other friends’ lips.

Eddie shakes his head, trying to dispel the phantom pleasure of your imagined touch. Everything is tingling as he steps into the shower.

X

You're mouthing the words to the song stuck in your head as you step outside. You meet Eddie out front of the Radio Shack that employs half of the young adults in Hawkins, the both of you included. You shrug off the thin hoodie you wear to work, stuffing it into your tote. Eddie looks up at you, eyes tracing your bare arms. He pulls his sweater a little further down his wrists before meeting your smile and offering a charmingly timid greeting.

You've noticed that Eddie’s a diligent type, always the first one to arrive and the last one to leave no matter the occasion. Maybe diligent isn’t the right word. Considerate, maybe. Today, you find him sitting on the curb, patiently waiting for you to finish your shift, unsure of how long he'd been there. On this momentous Wednesday Eddie is taking you to the movies. Not alone, not this time, though it’s something he thinks about. Something pulpy just hit theatres and the kids are just dying to see it. Dustin, having begged Eddie to drive, is dragging everyone out for the evening.

Backtracking into town, Eddie drives the way to pick up Dustin and Lucas, then Mike and El. Steve would be meeting you at the theatre after grabbing Robin and Max. The heat of the day has broken now, the sun getting close to setting. When you ask Eddie about his day, he tries not to look at you for too long in the pinkening light.

“Any progress today?” You ask when you catch his eyes.

“Nah, not much. Was too hot to think.”

Eddie’s been writing lots of music lately. Fewer lyrics, more riffs and melodies. It’s something that brings him out of his head and into his body. He loves the way his guitar strings feel under his fingers and the way the vibrations from the instrument’s body feel against him. He preens a little at your interest. He’s glad you think his music is cool, glad he can share this part of himself with you.

“You should come write in the Shack, it’s fucking freezing in there.”

“And distract you from repairing Steve’s Walkman for the third time?”

“Maybe if you played live he’d have less reason to keep using the poor thing. I keep telling him to just buy a new one.”

“Imagine a rock concert by the VCRs. For one day only: Eddie Munson and The Tapes.”

You make a noise imitating roaring applause and Eddie laughs.

“When are you finally gonna play for me?” You tease. “I’ll keep asking until it happens.”

“You’ll have to buy a ticket just like everyone else, sweetheart.” He glances at you to make sure he got his tone right and he’s pleased when you scrunch your nose at him. Little pieces of himself seem to find their way back to him when he’s with you.

“You really should’ve picked Dustin up first, you know.”

Eddie had hardly registered entering the suburbs. There was no world in which he was ever going to pass up the chance to have a few minutes alone with you. Most of your time together is spent at work or in the company of your mutual friends. Sure, he’s gotten to know you pretty well, and sure, it’s not like you never get the chance to talk one-on-one. It’s just that recently he’s been wondering what it would be like to have you all to himself for a day, to have more time alone with you outside of Radio Shack shifts and outside of the brief stretches of time when everyone else is busy talking to each other.

“So he could ride shotgun? No way.” Eddie’s eyes glint at you. If he had been braver in the moment he might have said something about your seat being reserved for pretty girls but he’s still working on his courage.

Your answering smile warms him, his hands now a little tighter on the wheel.

The theatre is busy by Hawkins standards and there’s a line at concessions by the time all of you are assembled. The kids decide to forgo popcorn to try and get good seats, and leave the adults (air quotes around that word) to make their decisions. You laugh as Steve and Robin bicker about whether or not to get a combo and which one would really be better value. Piping in at first then backing off, it’s clear you recognize your input won’t help or speed things along. Still, you watch amused as your friends have it out. Eddie thinks it’s sweet, both his friends and your patience for their antics. He wants to get involved, rib Steve a little, but he’s starting to feel antsy.

Eddie feels hypervisible to all people who aren’t his people. It’s like everyone in Hawkins can sense the death radiating off of him, his aura drawing unkind eyes and whispers. He starts edging slowly towards the theatre hoping either Steve or Robin might get the hint. As the slow minutes stretch on, he feels his clothes itching against his skin. It’s not that his friends aren’t usually attentive, they’re the best friends he’s ever had. They just get caught up in their fun and he can’t fault them for that.

Eddie almost startles when he notices you noticing his, frankly, scared expression and posture before you turn back to Steve and Robin. There’s a searing second in which Eddie is terrified you’re judging him, that you’ve seen through him and straight into his damage. He hasn’t been in very many vulnerable positions around you and you’ve yet to see him really panic. It's much easier to hold down his anxiety in when he's safe in Steve's basement. He doesn’t know how much you know, how much anyone else has told you about what happened. He knows you’re kind to the others and that they feel comfortable around you, but Eddie knows he’s different. He knows you’ve picked up on his aversion to closeness and his constant modesty. He’s broken in a way the others aren’t. He doesn’t know how to make sense of that. He’s terrified that he’s too fucked to ever re-enter society outside of his fellow survivors. He’s terrified of himself.

He watches as you put your hand on Robin’s arm catching her attention just long enough to let her know you’re heading inside and then turn back to Eddie, nodding your head towards the theatre. You take the first few steps slowly, waiting for him to follow.

And just like that, he feels seen.

Not in the way he usually does, not like you’re surveilling or assessing him. Like you get him. Like you don't mind all the weird.

Eddie trails behind you, eyes still a little wide. When you ask him quietly where he wants to sit he gestures non-committally to some seats nearby. You nod and pick a spot not too far from the door, no indication that you’d rather venture further in to be closer to the screen. Settling in, Eddie tries to breathe quietly, glad there’s nobody on his other side. He’s overly aware of his skin, his scars. Everything is warm. He thinks it’s an anxiety thing, this new full body sensation. He never felt like this before everything.

“You okay?”

You float the question casually, eyes fixed on the previews to give Eddie a moment of privacy. He nods lightly to himself more than anything before whispering an affirmative. Your gaze finally turns to his and you smile softly, your hand reaching for him. Your open palm hovers over his wrist on the armrest between you for a millisecond and he watches you catch yourself, thinking twice.

“Sorry, I should ask before I touch.” You say, withdrawing. You’re still smiling at him.

His body lights up again. You see him. He feels like you see him.

You turn back towards the screen, hand settling in your lap. He knows you well enough now to know you feel a little embarrassed that you reached for him without thinking. He wishes you didn't. He wishes he knew how to tell you he doesn't mind anything you do, ever.

When Eddie gets home later after dropping you off, he won’t remember most of the movie. He’ll remember how he spent the first act imagining your touch and daring himself to do… something. He’ll remember his heartbeat as he eventually, finally reached for your hand and how soft it was against his. He’ll remember the way you gently squeezed his fingers and the heat that rocketed through him. He’ll remember that you didn’t let go until he did, and that his palms itched against the steering wheel the whole way home.

X

A girl is in Eddie’s room. A real live girl is in Eddie Munson’s room. You are the real live girl in Eddie Munson’s room and he’s trying so hard not to freak the fuck out. He didn’t exactly mean for this to happen but, well, you’re here now and he’s doing his best to roll with it.

You don’t work every shift with Eddie, your hours far outnumbering his, but most of his shifts are ones he works with you. Today was one of those days when you were in together but not one where you got to talk as much as he’d have liked to. His favourite shifts are when you’re both on repair. Paired with anyone else he establishes his space, setting up on a small section of countertop off to the side and out of the way. With you though, he’s learned not to curl in on himself so tightly. He’s grown accustomed to and even excited for the chance that you might share tools or that your small bits and bobs might bleed into the space of his small odds and ends. Eddie Munson is not a yearner by any means but god does he spend a stupid amount of time hoping you might brush fingers or elbows while on the clock. Today was a let down in that you were on inventory while he was in his usual spot at the counter. Not only was he unable to figure out what was wrong with the radio he was working on, he also did not get to spend six hours working beside you. You, being as sweet as you are pretty, snuck over when you could though. He both loved and hated feeling you lingering over his shoulder when your manager wasn't looking.

On the whole, Eddie missed you today, which he felt weird saying in his head. So when you asked him about his after work plans (of which there were none) and he asked you about yours (also none), he asked if you wanted to hang out with him before he could think about it for too long. Or think about it at all. In an extended moment of bravery, or maybe brainlessness, Eddie seems to have invited you over and shown you into his room.

Eddie never really liked bringing people home. It wasn’t due to embarrassment exactly, it was something closer to a kind of fierce protectiveness. Eddie loves his trailer and his uncle. Lifetimes ago, when he used to invite people in more loosely, it wasn’t uncommon for people to look out of place there, their stiff bodies lingering close to the door.

You look perfect though. Like the right throw blanket, or a new window, or something else that’s supposed to tie a room together. Eddie isn’t sure how to qualify exactly what it is he thinks you add to his bedroom, but he's never really been good at interior design. Or having girls over.

“This is where the magic happens.” Eddie’s delivery is half-hearted as his hands find his pockets. He stands in the door frame in what he knows is an awkward approximation of appearing relaxed. You respond enthusiastically, making up for his hesitation. Eyes wide and curious you take a few cautious steps around his space.

“Cool.” You breathe softly, and Eddie knows you’re being sincere.

Tidier than he used to be, his bed is made and his stuff is somewhat neat. Your hands skim over his nightstand and the clutter on it. Dice, figurines, guitar picks and a book lying spine up. Eddie tries to shake the tension in his back but he finds he can't help it. He really, really wants you to like him, even though he's already pretty sure you do. He finds he feels naked despite his usual armour of long-sleeved shirt and baggy joggers.

Turning back towards him, your eyes catch on the shiny red thing hung against his wall. Laying pretty between two dark and dramatic posters, it's easy to tell that Eddie's guitar is a highly treasured possession. This is where Eddie feels confident jumping in.

“This,” he gestures grandly, “Is Sweetheart.”

You ooo appropriately as he takes her down for you to look at.

“She’s a B.C. Rich Warlock, I bought her brand new a few years ago. I saved up for months before I turned 16 and Wayne still had to spot me."

You smile at the pride and fondness in Eddie's voice. He looks pretty like this, eyes turned down, soft and adoring.

“She, huh? I knew there had to be someone special in your life.”

He looks up from the instrument's body, unsure about what exactly you’re poking fun at.

“You’re a catch,” you clarify, “I knew there was no way you were really single.”

Eddie ducks his head quickly before trying to meet your gaze again. He fails at this, eyes jumping right back down to Sweetheart, flattery and insecurity flaring equally inside of him.

"I'd love to hear you play something." Your tone, imploring though not pleading, has the most ridiculous pull on his heart.

"Uh, sure. Yeah, any requests?" Eddie is still trying to be brave.

"Whatever you think I'll like." Your smile makes him ache. "You think about it while I snoop some more."

Your attention is quickly captured by his small yet packed bookshelf. The warmth in his chest persists as he watches you tilt your head sideways to read the titles. Setting down on his bed, Eddie tucks his legs into a crisscross. What would you like? Eddie reckons you like a bit of everything so he thinks he could maybe pick a rock ballad? Something not too heavy but still true to his tastes.

Noodling a little to ease his nerves Eddie can feel the seam of his sleeve pressing uncomfortably between his guitar and his arm. He usually gets changed when he’s home, shedding his shirt in favour of one of his DIY tank tops and his pants in favour of his boxers. He often finds it warm in the trailer and he knows he’s safe here. Thinking about it, he realizes he never plays his guitar with long sleeves on anymore. He decides right then and there that it's uncomfortable and that he doesn’t like doing it. This, of course, is problematic for a few reasons. For one, you’re here in his room and you’ve never seen anything more than slips of Eddie’s wrists, ankles and collarbones. He knows you know something’s wrong with him. Or, rather, he knows you know he has scars. Anyone would notice how they peek out of his clothes in places, not to mention the unevenness of his face. As he plucks away tensely, Eddie weighs his options. He could suck it up and suffer through the sensory hell he’s experiencing, but that’s not seeming very feasible. He could change and put a tank top on, but that might be a bit more exposure than he’s ready for.

“You don’t actually have to play me anything if you’re not ready. I know I can be a little pushy.”

Eddie looks up to meet your soft smile from over your shoulder. Knelt in front of the book shelf, you've twisted around to speak to him. He knows you mean it, and for some reason that makes him all the more desperate to show off. Setting his guitar aside, he rubs his palms against his thighs. He opens his mouth but he’s not entirely sure what to say.

“You can tell me about your books instead? I keep hearing about Carrie, is it any good?”

The sweetness of your redirection dries his mouth. Leaving Sweetheart on the bed, Eddie comes to sit beside you and pulls his collection of Stephen King novels from their places. By the time you leave, you've taken a couple books to borrow and Eddie's promised to rent The Shining for you to watch together. His heart is still a little frenetic driving you home.

Eddie parks in your driveway and there's a pause in which neither of you wants to be the first to say goodbye. As you look at each other from opposite sides of his van, Eddie's chest squeezes and he can't tell if he's getting closer or if you are. He's not sure if you actually make noise when you tell him you'll see him tomorrow at work but he reads your lips all the same. He reaches out to squeeze your hand and you squeeze back, reluctant to let go. But you do, eventually, and Eddie watches to make sure you shut the door behind you after giving him one last wave. Pulling away, he can still smell you in the van's closed circuit of air. He waits until he's a little past the point of overheating to open the windows on the drive home.

X

Sometimes Eddie thinks about quitting his job. Every now and again his life will catch up to him and he thinks about leaving. Leaving his trailer, leaving town, leaving the circle of everyone he knows. He gets swept up by the urge to disappear until Wayne asks him to do his dishes or Steve calls to try and get him out of the house. Then it's all guilt. Where would he go? Would going somewhere else really solve anything? Was this urge really even about leaving at all? Really, he knows what happened to him isn't his fault. What happened to all of them was a freak accident, a case of being in the wrong place at the right time. But it's hard to heal. It's so hard to keep moving when he knows he's not the same and he never will be again. He knows Wayne is overworked and Steve gets worried. Dustin misses him all the time but most days he just… can't. Can't do anything at all. It's a hollowed kind of existence, living in the shape of the person you used to be. The old Eddie left some surprisingly big shoes behind when he went into the Upside-down. This new Eddie has no clue how to fill them.

Wayne is asleep on the couch when Eddie gets in. It's only seven and the TV is playing a sports game that's mostly static. Eddie considers going over to thump the thing so it clears but he'd rather not risk waking up Wayne. Not like he's watching the game anyways.

Shuffling into his room he drops back onto his bed. His head hurts and he knows he should probably have some water. His eyes close slowly. Five seconds of dark, five seconds of lamp light. Letting his head loll to the side, he enjoys the light stretch in his neck. His tired eyes find his bookshelf and the new empty spaces between books where you'd taken them from. On top of everything else to think or not think about, there was also you.

It's weird to want something. For what feels like a long time now, Wayne has been doing all the necessary wanting for him. He goes to work, he sees his friends, he tries to keep the house clean because Wayne wants that for him. Eddie has no problem with that, he's fine listening to someone else. It's nice, honestly. It's some kind of direction at least. But wanting something himself? It feels foreign. Especially not knowing what exactly it is that he wants, or even what he's allowed to want. Wayne tells him all the time: Slow down, son. One day at a time. Or one hour or one minute if that's what'll get you through it. That kind of works when he's trying to get to the other side of bad day, but he's unsure if that can apply to other people too. Is he allowed to just want to see you again, as soon as possible? Is he allowed to want to try to hold your hand and to drive you home as much as you'll let him? Does he have to know exactly how he wants this to go? Because he doesn't. And he doesn't know if or when he will.

Listless, Eddie pulls himself up and into the bathroom. Drinking from the faucet, he splashes his face while he's at it. Cold water is his friend. Although he scrubs his face dry with a towel, the hair framing his face stays wet. Eddie looks the guy in the mirror in the eyes, deeply. Was this someone who acted normal? Was this someone who was, like, bearable to spend time around? Was this someone who could have a relationship? Of any kind? He wonders how he appears to you.

Reaching across himself, Eddie ghosts his hand over his bicep. Brushing lightly against his loose sleeve he tries to recreate the feeling of you knelt beside him, arms side by side but not touching. His own hand is cold where you had been slightly warm. Reaching down to hold his wrist he wonders if he would feel soft to the touch. He's sort of desensitized to the terrain of his skin, he can't really judge objectively whether or not it would feel wrong to someone else. Meeting his own eyes in the mirror, Eddie cringes. He's being weird, he knows. If Wayne had been awake, he would have called after Eddie by now, telling him to stop spending so much time in front of the mirror and asking him to open the bathroom door. Grimacing, Eddie turns the bathroom light off before brushing his teeth in the dark.

X

When Eddie opens his door he finds you vibrating on his porch. All week, you've been excited to watch The Shining. He knows this because you told him when he saw you at work on Monday, and again on Wednesday, and because Steve had teased him after you had told him, too. He did a good job of denying anything was "going on", as Steve put it, and he had assured Robin that nothing was "going to happen" when she caught wind of it too. This was just a simple movie night between two friends with shared interests. Totally casual.

Your grin is infectious. You haven't even said anything other than hello and he's smiling hard, a mirror of your excitement. You don't even wait until you're fully inside before your thoughts start spilling out of you.

"I finished Carrie in like two days, it was insane! I got caught reading behind the counter at work and got told off but I was bewitched, I actually could not stop reading."

Eddie kindly takes your hoodie from around your shoulders and the packs of microwave popcorn of your hands. You continue to talk animatedly as the smell of butter starts to fill Eddie's small kitchen.

"I felt so bad for her, and honestly, I think everything she did was perfectly justifiable. I mean imagine you're seventeen and prom is, like, the representation of freedom and getting to leave everything behind, and then you can't even enjoy it! The one thing you've been dreaming of for years is ruined!"

"Oh for sure, I'd go batshit too. What did you think of the blood bucket? So much more metal than paint, right?"

"It was awful! Like that's actually so cruel, it made me sick." You grimace.

"You're going to love The Shining then." Eddie grins.

Your brows pinch with worry as Eddie's smile only grows.

"What does that mean? Eddie, what does that mean?"

Eddie says nothing more on the matter to your displeasure and his amusement. You whine at him and he laughs at you while he transfers the popcorn to a bowl.

Eddie's hand twitches, too shy to press against your back as he leads you to the couch and something strange swells in his heart when you fall back into the cushions and tuck your legs up under you, looking at ease. He can hear Steve and Robin's voices in his head as he sits down next to you after starting the VCR. Steve's voice reminds him to keep his hands to himself and Robin's chirps at him to leave room for jesus. You shift a little closer to Eddie to make sure he has access to the popcorn bowl and suddenly his skin is hot. The inch of couch between you is both way too close and way too fucking far.

Yep. Totally casual.

Eddie's seen this one before so he doesn't have to pay attention as hard as you are. He loves The Shining so of course he's paying attention, he's just also fine with missing a few of the things happening on screen in order to watch your reaction to them instead. You're rapt. On edge but having a good time, Eddie thinks. He's thrilled to hear your commentary, your low voice in his ear buzzing through him. He's endeared by how fond you are of Danny, and you point out details he'd never think to notice on his own.

It isn't long after the movie starts before you're pressed together, arm against arm, leg against leg. It's not surprising, that's just what happens when two people sit on a couch together. What is surprising though, is how warm you run, and how desperate he is to keep you right where you are despite his predisposition to overheating. He wants so badly to push his sleeves up to allow his skin to cool down a little but he hesitates. Last time you were here, he couldn't do it. He had still been too worried about making a perfect impression, or at least a good one, and he couldn't risk his scars ruining that. But you came back, Eddie reasons. You were back in his house, sitting next to him, excited to spend time with him. Maybe if he moves slowly enough, you won't even notice. He'll cool down a little and then he can cover up again when he's good. He settles tentatively on that plan of action and inches his sleeves up as inconspicuously as possible.

You do not, in fact, notice the newly revealed expanses of Eddie's skin. You're far too busy whispering warnings to Danny as if he can hear you. Clutching the now empty bowl to your chest, your eyes are fixed on the screen, wide with trepidation. But to your, and Danny's, immense surprise, something flashes on screen and you flinch. You all but leap onto Eddie, your hands reaching for and holding his arm, pulling it against your chest, bowl cast to the floor. Automatically, Eddie tenses.

Sure you’d brushed by each other before, usually knuckles against knuckles as you walked or a hand on a shoulder in passing, and sure you'd held hands on one or two occasions. But this was different. You were holding him, feeling his scars with your hands for the first time. It was strange to him, to feel skin on his skin after so long. It didn't hurt like he'd worried. It didn't burn or spark or sear. It was soft. And clearly his skin wasn't made of barbed wire like he believed. You weren't letting go. You hadn't recoiled or even reacted at all. He felt exceedingly…..normal.

Eddie was still sitting stiffly when the scene ended and you released your breath, hands still holding onto him. You turn your face up to him, eyes wide and ready to laugh off the scare when you notice the tension in his shoulders. You notice where his eyes are stuck and you pull your hands away, immediately understanding. 

“Oh! Eddie, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

You shift over on the couch to make space between your bodies and for some reason the small distance between you distresses Eddie more than the feeling of your hand on his arm had. Eddie realizes his awe may have read as shock or horror and he needs to correct that. He reaches for you before he really thinks about it, hand grasping just above your knee, tugging your thigh ever so gently back towards him.

“No– I mean, I’m fine, are you fine?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just sorry, I didn’t mean to–” 

“No, it’s okay, I uh, I just– I haven’t been touched in a while?” The end of his sentence pitches up into a question.

His arm stays extended in the space between you. He wonders if this is the moment he’s been waiting for, the moment where the other shoe drops. He knows you’re a more tactile person than he is, never shying away from Steve’s bear hugs or Robin’s cheek kisses. He knows you respect his boundaries profoundly, and that you'd never want to make him uncomfortable. It's too much to try and articulate in the moment, how weirdly comfortable he feels around you, but he hopes you can still understand the intimacy of his hand on your leg, the heavy meaning of the action. 

You blink at him. The movie keeps playing in the background, casting alternating warm and cool tones across your faces. More firmly, he starts to pull your thigh back against him, and the rest of your body follows. He leaves his hand where it is, hoping you understand what he's offering. He doesn't think you know what to say but that doesn't matter. When you curl lightly around his arm again he thinks you get it. You press a shy cheek against his bicep and his body is all nerves.

When the blood finally spills out of the Overlook's elevators, you hold him tighter, turning into his shoulder to avoid looking.

"Come on, you're missing it! This is, like, the best part."

"That's so fucked up, Eddie."

You're not amused but he laughs, glowing as he rubs his thumb over the inside of your knee.

X

There was a time while Eddie was still healing when he wouldn’t let anyone touch him. Eddie’s always been the kind to lick his wounds in private, and for a while it felt like he was all wound. He’s since come around to light touches. He can handle Steve’s arm around his shoulder, Robin's hip bumps, Dustin's side hugs. But there’s still something about letting people touch his skin that makes him squirm. At the root of it, he’s embarrassed. There's a shame that comes with major illness or injury that's difficult to understand. Steve recognizes it, though. Steve also recognizes that something's changing in Eddie. Steve would still absolutely call Eddie a sulky baby, but he's definitely different when you're around. Maybe it's that Eddie's less scared, less convinced that there's not a place for him anywhere. Whatever it is, it's nice. It helps Steve relax a little too, knowing Eddie's alright.

Steve knows he's staring but he can't help it. You're sharing a chair with Eddie, having come around from your end of the table to listen to whatever Dustin and Eddie are arguing about. Dustin's pointing agitatedly at the menu, likely dying on a hill of little consequence. It's as if they've never been here before despite Benny's being the only place in town that can always accommodate a group of twelve without notice. The seats are small so you're all but on top of Eddie. Your arm comes up behind one of his shoulders and, if Steve were to hazard a guess, Eddie's probably holding your leg against his own under the table. Steve wonders why you didn't just sit together to begin with. Eddie feels Steve watching and sends him a less than discrete middle finger. Totally casual my ass.

Eventually you give up on sharing and Eddie makes Mike switch seats with you so that you can be across from him. After Dustin finally settles and everybody orders, he's surprised to see Eddie sharing. He holds his burger (featuring quite a unique combination of toppings) out for you to take bites and you let him sip your milkshake in exchange. In contrast, Eddie's hand keeps slapping Dustin's away when he reaches for some of his fries. Very subtle.

“Apparently, when you get scurvy, all the collagen in your body starts to break down. Your scar tissue dissolves and every wound you've ever had reopens.” You tell this to an enthusiastic audience. You're embellishing a little, knowing the boys are prone to theatrics, but it's all in good fun.

"That's so sick." Dustin enthuses while Mike and Lucas agree.

The kids, having recently rented some stupid movie, are now deeply interested in running a pirate themed campaign.

"That could work as a hazard, what do you guys think? Instead of starvation the effect could be scurvy." Will is writing quickly into his notebook, looking down while he listens to the ensuing clamour.

"Where'd you learn that?" Eddie prompts you while the kids start to bicker about whether vitamin C potions should exist in game.

“Some article online. I was reading about afflictions."

"Afflictions? Slow down, Heathcliff, you know regular people say sickness, right?"

"Watch it, geek. You know regular people don't have Wuthering Heights memorized, right?"

You're both smiling impishly at each other, greatly diminishing the bite of your words. Eddie throws a fry weakly in your direction and you reach over to flick his fingers. Robin pokes Steve to ask if he's seeing what she's seeing.

"Totally casual my ass." She whispers.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Steve mutters.

After dinner, when the kids are unlocking their bikes and Robin's already waiting in his car, Steve watches Eddie close the passenger door of his van once you're safely inside. Steve's not stupid, he can see exactly what's happening. Eddie is stupid though, and probably doesn't have a clue what to do with himself. When Eddie catches Steve watching from across the parking lot, Steve smiles big. Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically and gets in the van, looking to make sure you're buckled before backing out.

X

Tucked into bed after work, Eddie counts the things in his room like he does every night to help him fall asleep. Eight corners, seven posters, one dresser with five drawers, four pairs of shoes shoved under said dresser, three shirts that missed the laundry basket, one lamp. There are less books on his book shelf than usual. He counts 33 out of his usual 37. You're still holding on to his Stephen King books even though you've already read through them all but Eddie doesn't mind.

Today was a difficult day. In true undead fashion, there was just something about excessive sunlight that bothered Eddie. It was maybe less about the sunlight and more about the uptick of reminders of his brokenness. Seeing Sarah Teagan from high school holding hands with a shirtless Kevin Cooper on their way to the pool on a beautiful day was irritating. Knowing Robin was going to watch an outdoor movie with some new friends in the park was cutting. Catching wary glares from behind sunglasses while he ducked into the gas station was steamrolling. Sunglasses don't make you imperceptible, people. It's the wishing that gets to him. He wishes and wishes and wishes. Eddie wishes he could walk shirtless down main street. He wishes he could make friends effortlessly. He wishes anything, everything was different.

It's not all bad, though. He takes great pains to remind himself of this. He might not buy into gratitude journals but he still knows it's good to remember the things he likes, the things he's looking forward to. He's DMing a game for the boys next week and he can tell they're frothing at the mouth to play. Steve scored two tickets to a rock festival in Indianapolis next month. He has this weekend off. With any luck, you might even want to see him sometime soon.

Turning his head into his pillow, Eddie feels his face start to warm. Despite having known you for a little while now, you were still a new development. It had been a long time since Eddie blushed at such a frequency. It was profoundly humiliating. He never blushed in high school. But obviously, lifetimes had passed since then. He was a different person now, mentally and physically. He’s more nervous, less confident, worse at flirting. When he blushes, he feels it in his whole body. He becomes overly aware of his skin, his scars. Everything kind of fizzes. It’s not necessarily unpleasant, it’s just unnerving. It makes him feel vulnerable, like he might come apart at the seams. In his head he avoids the obvious, that there's really only one cause for this new angst. If he pretends, he can believe he's not obvious. If he pretends, he can believe you can't tell.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie shuts his eyes tight feeling all kinds of miserable and lonely and, worst of all, hopeful. He turns onto his stomach and falls asleep with the light on.

X

Summer will soon come to a close in Hawkins but for now the sun still beats down.

On a blanket spread out on the grass behind Steve's pool, you and Eddie sit next to each other drinking twin pouches of juice. Eddie thinks you’re a strange pair, you in your swimsuit and him in long pants. He's traded his usual long sleeve for a t-shirt because of the weather, feeling only slightly, kind of, just a little bit, completely, utterly naked. He can feel how warm your skin is when your arm brushes against his and he knows you should both find a way to cool down soon. Steve is losing to Lucas in a cannon ball competition scored by the other boys. A much calmer Robin, El and Max are hanging out the shallow end of the pool.

Sore loser that he is, Steve eventually huffs his way across the yard while the boys yell after him. Eddie looks up to find his dripping body towering directly over your sitting forms.

“And how can we help you, Steve?” Eddie sounds grumpy. The heat must be cooking him.

With a wicked grin Steve shakes his head hard, spraying you with pool water. You squeal and Eddie groans, much to Steve's amusement.

“You dog!” You chastise, wiping water from your face.

“As if you weren't about to get in the pool.” Steve snips lightheartedly, setting down hard on the blanket near the both of you.

“I was going to. Later. When I felt like it. On my own terms.”

“Get a load of sassy.” Steve addresses Eddie as if you can't hear. You reach over to punch Steve’s arm.

You decide, stressing that the decision is solely of your own volition, that it's time to get in the pool. Steve laughs at you as you get up because he knows it'll wind you up.

"You're a shit." Eddie admonishes.

"You can join her if you want, lover boy."

Eddie narrows his eyes, choosing not to answer so as not to give Steve more ammunition.

Steve leans back on the blanket, propping himself on his elbows and sprawling his legs out parallel to Eddie. There’s a calm silence in which Steve suns himself and Eddie watches you in the water. The skin across your shoulders and the back of your neck has already started to darken, he doubts you put on sunscreen. You and Robin are motioning wildly, very likely as part of a game the two of you invented sometime in the last two minutes. A breeze shoots by him, sneaking up into his sleeve and he misses having your body beside his. He’s not sure how he should be reacting to Steve teasing him about you. He knows he’s been acting out of character. He’s coming out more, wanting to go where you go. He smiles more often. His laughter comes easier. He's pulled towards you, comfortable enough to let himself touch and be touched in little ways, even in front of the group.

“You can give yourself permission.” Saying this, Steve keeps his eyes closed, still sunning.

“What?”

“Like, to be happy.”

“What are you, my therapist?” Eddie’s words come out with a little more bite than he wanted. He can feel himself recoiling from a possible moment of vulnerability and the overbearing heat is not helping his mood.

“Eddie, it’s okay.” Steve opens his eyes to look at him earnestly. “It’s good that you feel good, it’s great even. You can give yourself permission."

Eddie twists his mouth. He wants to tell Steve he doesn't know anything but the truth is that Steve probably knows Eddie better than anyone on earth. If Eddie's going to take advice from one person in the world, it's gonna be Steve. Still though, where does Steve get off telling him what to do.

"Gee, thanks Mr. Know-it-all. I'll be sure to run all my very private personal decisions by you from now on."

"Dickhead. Don't be stupid."

"And here I thought you loved me."

"I do. You know I do. Don't be stupid." Steve closes his eyes again, confident he'll get the last word in. "She doesn't care, you know. She clearly has a thing for freaks."

Eddie holds up two emphatic middle fingers to the side of Steve's unseeing head.

X

“You can ask me,” Eddie offers on the drive home. "About them. If you want."

The rest of the afternoon had passed peacefully despite your sunburn and Eddie's dehydration. You had insisted you could walk from Steve's but Eddie wouldn't hear it. A pretty thing like you walking home by herself? No chance. The two of you sit tired and sun-soaked, cooled by the van's AC.

Much to Eddie's chagrin, Steve managed to get through to him earlier. He knows the hangup is inside of him. Really, he thinks you'd say yes if he asked you out. He thinks you'd say yes to most anything he asked. But annoyingly, Eddie is still on the never-ending journey of working on his courage.

“If you’re… If we’re… ” He trails off, his hands tensing and un-tensing on the wheel.

You look over to see him, watching him watch the road. Your eyes drift down to his forearms, following the scar pattern that's starting to become familiar to you.

You take your time answering. 

“I don’t need to know, Eds. I’ve never needed to know.” 

He nods but stays quiet until he pulls into your driveway. He puts the van in park and turns off the ignition. You wait patiently for him to put together what he wants to say.

“I want to tell you.” He turns in his seat to face you. “I want to tell you but it's so much and I wouldn't even know how and—" 

He cuts himself off, getting frustrated. You're patient, giving him all the time he needs to find the right words. When you offer your open palm, he takes it, holding your hand with both of his in his lap.

“You make me feel like I have scurvy."

You pause, not quite understanding. “I make you feel sick?”

“No, not like that, it’s like–” He forces himself to breathe. "It's like I'm falling apart in all the places I used to be open. I used to be…I mean I'm better than I was but it's still hard. And it's not a bad feeling, it's not like it hurts or anything, but when I'm with you I just feel so raw sometimes. Like, after everything, I had to learn how to be a person again. I have most things figured out but with you…I don't know what to do with myself sometimes."

"Am I doing something wrong?" You know he's not blaming you for anything, you just want to know how to help.

Eddie shakes his head.

"No. No, I feel like I'm the one doing it all wrong. I feel like I am wrong."

He doesn't meet your eyes.

"There's not a right way, Eddie. There's just…There's you and there's me and there's what feels good. To both of us. That's kind of it." You speak softly.

"What if I don't know what feels good. What if I don't know."

"Then we try things. I'm not in a rush, Eddie. I'm here for you, not anything else."

You can see him thinking. He looks up with pinched eyebrows and you try to tell him what you said again with your eyes.

"Can I please kiss you?" He barely manages to whisper.

"I would like that."

It takes a second for Eddie to move. He lets go of your hand to hold your face, feather-light. He treats you as if you're the skittish animal, moving tentatively but with purpose. You want him to know you're not scared so you still, letting him take his time in this moment. He tilts your head gently, his nose brushing yours. Both of you breathe shallowly. He finds your mouth with his and presses gently. Something heavy inside you dissolves. He pulls back to take a shaky breath before kissing you again, just as tender as the first time.

Eddie stops at two because it's what feels right, for now. Your eyes are so bright and he knows his are glassy. He tries not to let his mind blind him by spiralling beyond right here. For now there is only you and him and all of his collagen.

☆