#we have an unhealthy love of bookshelves especially

[funnylittlelad]

Shelter From The Storm - Steddie

Page Three

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summary: “My dad’s sick. My mom told Hopper so he could tell me. Apparently, it doesn't look good,” he explains hollowly. 

Jack is too busy building with her legos, lost in her own world, to pay them any attention. Eddie immediately goes up to Steve and grabs his forearms in a distant, comforting, hold. He’s unsure of Steve’s wants and needs.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” 

Steve gives him a wry smile.

“Cure my dad so I don't have to call my mom for the first time in six years?” He asks playfully.

“I can't do that, but I can be there when you do call her,” Eddie suggests.

Steve thinks about it for a second. He drinks in the care he finds in Eddie’s dark eyes. Sometimes he catches himself pretending Jack gets her eyes from Eddie instead of Sarah. It’s probably weird and unhealthy, but Jack is more Eddie’s than she is Sarah’s anyway. Steve accepts the offer of support. He truly has no idea what awaits him on the other side of that phone call.

wc: 9.3k

series tags/notes: Steddie Dadfic, single dad!Steve Harrington, Music Teacher!Eddie Munson, girl dad Steve, Jewish Eddie, Steve's parents are The Worst, mentions/talks about past abuse, complicated family dynamics, pretty Steve-centric, implied past suicide, talks about illness and death, Fluff, angst, mutual pining, slow burn.

Steve brings Jack to Eddie’s on his way to the interview. Robin had offered but rescinded it the moment she heard Eddie did as well. What? I’m in the opposite direction and he’s on the way! Besides, who would she really rather go with? was her argument. It’s his first time seeing Eddie’s apartment. It strikes insecurity into his heart. Eddie’s apartment is so much different than theirs. It’s nicer and bigger and Steve finds himself feeling incredibly small as he hovers near the front door.

He seems to have two bedrooms based on the number of doors, a kitchen that can hold more than three pots, an actual designated dining area, and more than one window in the living space. Jack immediately becomes enamored with all the decorations on the warm-toned walls. Posters from tours he’s gone to over the years framed so they're more adult for his living room along with other little prints and oddities are fixed on every wall. Short bookshelves are packed with novels, notebooks, and binders. A few dozen D&D miniatures- or the little guys, as Jack calls them- sit on top of various surfaces. The bookshelves, some of the picture frames, the television, and even the door jamb Steve is currently near are all home to some.

A black acoustic guitar that wears its age on its face hangs on the wall above his couch. White lettering is scrawled across, most likely by a younger Eddie. The writing curves with the body of the guitar. THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS. It’s all so painfully Eddie that it makes Steve's chest throb. 

Eddie discovers he loves having Jack at his apartment. She’s amazed by everything, but especially his six-string on the wall. He spends most of the time answering her questions about everything. He didn't know what's that? and why? could be said so much they lose meaning. 

It feels like the entire world holds its breath for the duration of Steve’s interview. When he's offered the job on the spot he nearly cries. He’s never stepping foot in that fucking quarry again. He’ll be able to stabilize Jack’s life again finally. The relief is so evident that Eddie knows the moment he answers the door Steve got the job. Steve wishes beyond wishes he could live in the following moment forever. 

Eddie all but tackles him into the door with cheers. Jack comes sprinting from the dining area. Why can't she ever just walk? She wedges herself between them at their legs. Before Steve can, Eddie scoops her up so she can be sandwiched in the middle. She giggles wildly despite not knowing what they're celebrating, just happy to be with them. 

Steve gets through his first week. The improvement is felt immediately. He’s more rested, he’s around more, and Jack is clearly ecstatic to have him home by five-thirty every night. Weekends he has off, which he still can't believe. All in all, he has a damn good week. Eddie is on the cusp. He’s so close to asking Steve out. Robin all but begs him to.

“I just wanna make sure he gets settled into the job before I throw anything new at him,” he explains.

“None of this is new!” She argues.

He has a hard time countering that. Either way, they come to an agreement. Eddie will ask Steve out at the end of his first pay cycle. That'll give him time to get used to the job and spend his extra time with Jack. As it creeps closer, Eddie grows antsier. Everyone notices. Max snatches pens from him so he can't turn them into drumsticks. Dustin calls him out when his leg bouncing shakes the van. Gareth clamps a hand over Eddie’s rambling mouth a few times when he wouldn't shut up. Little things that makeup everything. 

The visits start with Jack forgetting her zip-up hoodie. Eddie noticed the little green thing when he was locking up for the night. Without a thought, he brings it over to Steve’s, knowing he’ll be home thanks to the new job. His knock is timid as anxiety settles in. Steve opens the door while calling out for Jack to turn down whatever she had playing over his shoulder. The smile Eddie is met with when Steve registers it's him is enough to power a city. 

“Eddie, what are you doing here?” He asks, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“Jack left this at the store earlier. Figured I’d drop it off on my way home,” Eddie holds out the offending hoodie.

Steve’s eyes shimmer in the dull yellow light of the outside sconce. An appreciative smile sweeps across his lips as he takes the hoodie.

“Thank you, you didn't have to go out of your way-”

Eddie is already waving him off.

“Not out of the way at all,” he assures Steve.

“Is that Eddie?” Jack’s excited voice carries from across the small space.

“Uh-oh, trouble hears me,” Eddie grins mischievously.

Steve chuckles as Jack sprints to see Eddie. Steve shoos her back into the apartment, inviting Eddie in. The hours get away from them as Jack and Eddie put on a show for Steve about dragons. Eddie thinks, perhaps fears, it's just a one-time thing. The next time Jack is at the store she doesn't leave anything behind. So, Eddie does what any sane person would do. He pretends she left her music workbook and brings it over to Steve’s. Jack sells him out so quickly he doesn't know why he bothers feeling betrayed.

“That’s supposed to stay at the store in my folder,” she informs him and crosses her arms.

“Ah- n-no, remember? You were supposed to bring it home this week,” he tries weakly.

“Daddy says lying isn't nice, Eddie,” she chides with stern brows.

“Yeah, Eddie,” Steve mirrors her posture but with an amused smirk, “lying isn't nice.”

With a flushed face, Eddie puts his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, you caught me,” he admits with a chuckle.

“You can just drop by, y’know. We’re friends, it's okay,” Steve chuckles as they settle onto the couch.

Eddie smiles, the tips of his ears pink.

“Yeah, you don't mind? It's okay if it's weird. You guys are on the way home from the store. I’m not like trying to go out of my way to be creepy or anything. I totally get it if-”

“Eddie.”

“-this is too much or crossing a line. I mean, phone calls every night are one thing. I don't want to disturb Jack’s routine or-”

“Eddie,” Steve laughs, growing louder.

Eddie halts his babbling and blinks at Steve with a huh?

“You’re rambling. That's my move,” Steve teases.

Eddie’s still-open mouth snaps shut. He gives a shy smile, twisting his rings in his lap. Steve isn't used to seeing him so nervous like this. It’s unbearably cute. If Jack weren't watching Scooby Doo three feet away, if Steve’s life were a little simpler, he might have kissed Eddie then. Jack is three feet away, though. Steve’s life is complicated and messy. Instead of a kiss, he places a heavy warm hand on Eddie’s forearm and gives it a squeeze.

“Our door’s never closed to a Munson. You can thank Jack for that,” Steve echoes Eddie’s words from so long ago back when he was saving Steve's day the first time.

Eddie is sure his smile is so soft it's pathetic, but he doesn't care. His anxious energy turns to excitement as the end of Steve’s pay period draws closer. He’s going to ask Steve out and he’s pretty sure he’ll say yes. Eddie isn't blind, he isn't stupid, he’s just fucking nervous. He knows he has a shot with Steve. Steve just has so much on his plate right now as his and Jack’s lives adjust once more. The last thing Eddie wants is to add to that plate. He can wait until the end of the pay period, he continues to reason with himself. At least then Steve will have settled into the new job. Hopefully, he’ll have found his groove with Jack. A groove that Eddie can slide right into.

Then Steve gets a phone call the day before the pay period ends. Eddie stops by on his way home from the store. It’s nice being home to let him. Not that his visits replace their nightly phone calls, of course. Steve goes into the bedroom to take the call when he hears how grave Hopper’s voice is. When he steps back out he’s pale, his hands shake slightly, and his face is blank.

“My dad’s sick. My mom told Hopper so he could tell me. Apparently, it doesn't look good,” he explains hollowly. 

Jack is too busy building with her legos, lost in her own world, to pay them any attention. Eddie immediately goes up to Steve and grabs his forearms in a distant, comforting, hold. He’s unsure of Steve’s wants and needs.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” 

Steve gives him a wry smile.

“Cure my dad so I don't have to call my mom for the first time in six years?” He asks playfully.

“I can't do that, but I can be there when you do call her,” Eddie suggests.

Steve thinks about it for a second. He drinks in the care he finds in Eddie’s dark eyes. Sometimes he catches himself pretending Jack gets her eyes from Eddie instead of Sarah. It’s probably weird and unhealthy, but Jack is more Eddie’s than she is Sarah’s anyway. Steve accepts the offer of support. He truly has no idea what awaits him on the other side of that phone call.

They get Max to come over so she can watch Jack. Steve doesn't know how long this call will last and doesn't want to leave her alone in the living room for that long. Max hugs him when she arrives, reestablishing that she's there for him if he needs it. 

Steve and Eddie sit side by side on the edge of Steve’s bed. The heat from Eddie’s thigh against his keeps Steve grounded as he stares at the phone.

“You don't owe them anything,” Eddie tells him quietly.

“I know,” Steve sighs before dialing the number Hopper gave him.

Eddie fiddles with his rings as Steve listens to the line trill. Each passing moment makes Steve’s heart beat a little harder in his ears. His stomach seems to think he’s on a boat. Eddie can tell when she answers because Steve stops breathing. Eddie’s hand finds his thigh, grounding him once more. 

“Uh- hey, Mom. Hopper got your message to me,” Steve says nervously. 

He’s silent for a while. There's just the muffled sound of Max tickling Jack through the door. 

“Yeah, she’s good. We’re doing good.”

No thanks to you, Eddie wants to spit into the phone. 

“Did they say how long?”

Steve takes a stuttering breath. His hand grabs onto Eddie’s on his thigh. Eddie gives it a comforting squeeze.

“Okay, yeah, I’m off on weekends- What? ”

He pauses with an incredulous expression staring off to Jack’s side of the room.

“That’s not happening. I don't want her near him,” he states firmly.

Eddie's eyebrows furrow in concern. 

“You know why,” Steve scoffs.

His grip on Eddie’s hand tightens.

“I'm her father. It's my job to protect her and keep her safe. A job I take seriously, unlike Dad,” he snaps.

Eddie sits with him patiently as he sets up a time and day to go see his dad. Steve doesn't ask, but Eddie takes a mental note of it to make sure he’s available for Jack. When he hangs up he only gives a curt bye. He throws the phone into his pillows and runs his free hand over his face.

“They gave him three months max. He… he fucking wants to see Jack. Can you believe that? After what he did- everything he did, he has the nerve to ask to see her?” Steve says, but it sounds more like thinking out loud. 

Eddie sits awkwardly wondering if he can ask, if that's too much. He has no context outside of what Robin said and what he picked up in high school, which wasn't much. Steve doesn't talk about his parents. He doesn't talk much at all about his life before Jack. It’s like his life didn't start until hers did so that's as far back as his memory stretches.

“I… You don't have to tell me, but I don't actually know what he did. I mean, Robin mentioned you getting kicked out, but other than that…,” Eddie says tentatively.

Steve sighs and drops his gaze to his lap. His and Eddie’s hands are still conjoined on his thigh. He has no plans to change that. Eddie is his anchor in stormy seas.

“I'm sure you remember all the parties I used to throw back in high school,” he starts.

“Yeah, I made a killing at them.”

Steve actually lets out a single exhaled laugh. 

“I did that because they were never home and, honestly, I hated being in that house alone. It was so big and empty all the time. Doing that worked for a while. Hell, even the clean-up after kinda became therapeutic. Then they would come home and it would be worse,” he tells Eddie.

His eyes stay on their hands. Eddie’s stays on Steve’s profile. His eyebrows knit with a hundred different emotions, but most prominently empathy. 

“Worse?” He prompts, afraid he knows the answer far too intimately.

“Y'know how I had to quit basketball junior year and it was a whole thing? I told everyone I just liked swimming more, but that wasn't exactly true. Turns out after a few concussions, your hand-eye coordination can really go to shit,” Steve huffs a sarcastic laugh.

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand so he’ll look at him. When Steve does, he finds nothing but total understanding. Respect.

“I get it. Why d'you think I lived with Wayne? He had enough of me calling him crying at night. One day he just showed up with a suitcase and told my dad to fuck off,” Eddie says.

“He sounds like a badass,” Steve replies.

“He kinda is. You two would probably get along.”

Steve smiles at the thought.

“I kinda wish I had a Wayne growing up,” he muses.

“Yeah, me too. I would’a never guessed you had that going on at home. I probably would’a actually talked to you.”

“No one did, but Hopper. He couldn't do anything about it, though. My parents would’ve had his job and I would've been in the same position,” he sighs. 

“That why he’s so sweet on Jack?”

“I would argue it's hard not to be sweet on Jack,” Steve quirks a small smile.

“I’ll give you that. You made one cute kid,” Eddie agrees.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great, isn't she?” His nose wrinkles a little when he asks, face full of pride.

“I think she might be the best kid that's ever existed.”

“Even after all the trouble she gave you?”

“Especially after all that.”

Fuck if that doesn't knock Steve through a loop. His stomach is upside down, his heart is beating so fast he's sure it's disintegrated, and he wants nothing more than for Jack to be sandwiched between them again. The safety of Eddie makes more truths fall out. Suddenly, he wants to be seen by Eddie. He wants those deep coffee-brown eyes to glide over him and see all of him. Then, hopefully, Eddie won't run like Steve is always afraid his past will make people do.

“I dunno how much Robin told you, but my parents were pissed when they found out about Sarah. Wanted me to marry her, drop out of school, and work for my dad. I didn't want any of that, though. I knew Sarah didn't want a kid and I knew I didn't want to marry Sarah. So, there were about nine months of arguing, give or take. Then on my eighteenth birthday, I woke up and became a dad two hours later. I never understood my father less than when I saw Jack for the first time. I just don't get how you can look at something like that and feel anything, but love,” he tells Eddie, semi-lost in thought.

“I take it he wasn't happy,” Eddie replies.

Steve snorts sarcastically.

“My things were at the end of the driveway when I went home to grab a change of clothes. Well, the things they tossed out for me at least. I didn’t bother going back for the rest. If I’m being honest, I almost caved that day,” Steve shakes his head at the memory.

“What d'you mean?” Eddie asks softly.

“I was able to sleep at the hospital while Jack was there, but once she was discharged we would have been in my car. It felt over before it even began, like I lost. Like I proved everyone right immediately, that I can't do it. I was going to forfeit my custody, but Robin came barreling in and told me her parents wanted me to move in. Not that they said I could, but that they wanted me to. I guess… The Buckleys were my Wayne,” he realizes out loud. 

Eddie offers him a lovely little smile that draws Steve’s eyes to his lips.

“How long have you and Rob been friends?”

“Uh- Since about… two? No, three weeks before all of that. I had been hopping around jobs and ended up at Scoops Ahoy for a little while. We worked together,” Steve tells him. 

Eddie can't help, but laugh because of course. Of course, they had known each other less than a month, and yet the spunky little lesbian was offering him a home. Steve chuckles with him.

“Yeah, I usually leave that part out. It doesn't matter anyways, once you and your kid live with someone you get to know each other very fast,” he says. 

“Funny to think I started out as your sub,” Eddie jokes.

Steve gapes at Eddie for a moment. When he realizes Eddie doesn't know what he did, a smirk curls onto his lips.

“I don't recall you ever subbing for me,” he teases.

Eddie seems confused at first. Then it dawns on him and his face flushes red. He pushes into Steve with his shoulder playfully.

“Dick,” he jibes, “you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know, do I?” 

“I’d be careful, Harrington. Don't wanna back yourself into a conversation you can't get out of,” Eddie says tauntingly. 

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. 

“C’mon we got a little girl and a nosy young adult waiting for an update,” he gives Steve’s hand a tug. 

Steve tries to hate when Eddie accidentally makes them sound like a family. He doesn’t. He tries to hold onto Eddie's hand after the door opens. He wills himself not to let go. He does. 

Robin doesn't waste any time pestering Eddie when the end of Steve’s pay period comes and goes. Eddie still hasn't asked Steve out. He hasn't done anything more than the flirting and embarrassingly unsubtle back and forth. How could he? 

“Rob, his dad is dying. I'm not asking him out when he's in a vulnerable state,” Eddie scoffs.

Robin groans over the phone.

“This is what I was trying to tell you! There is no invulnerable state! I love him, but Steve’s life is a mess, Eddie. And it's not his fault. Shit just happens to him. A lot. He doesn't deserve any of it, but he deals with it anyway. You’ll die waiting if you think you’ll find a time where it doesn't feel like everything is falling apart for him,” she half argues, half complains. 

Eddie pushes all the air out of his lungs through his nose. He knows she's right. Yet, it doesn't feel right to put Steve on the spot at a time like this. 

“I only need it to calm down for a day,” he reasons.

“It calmed down the first two weeks of his new job, but that still wasn't calm enough for you. What is?” She counters.

“Just a day when there's nothing. Nothing new, nothing bad, nothing stressful, just a day.”

“Okay, I’m going to say this as plainly as possible,” she sighs, “Just a day for Steve always has something new, something bad, and definitely something stressful. There will never be a time that feels right. I know you know that. So, just admit what this really is.”

“And what is this, really?” He questions.

“You’re scared,” she deadpans.

Eddie lets out an unconvincing pfffft.

“I’m not scared. I’m just… nervous,” he admits.

“About what?”

Eddie fiddles with his rings while holding the phone between his ear and shoulder. His legs are lounged up on the back of the couch while the rest of his body lays across the cushions.

“What if we don't work? What if we start dating and all that was really there was just flirting? Besides, he has a kid, Rob-”

“That you adore!”

“Yes, I do! That doesn't mean Steve wants help raising her from an ex-drug dealer with a truancy and trespassing record,” he argues. 

“Okay, first off, Steve is an ex-drug doer. Do you not remember you selling at his parties? Second off, none of that other bullshit matters. Steve knows who you are now and he likes that person. A lot,” she contends.

Eddie sighs, knowing she has a point. Actually, she has a few.

“After he sees his parents, alright?” 

“Eddie-”

“Look, Rob, I know. This is different, though. He told me about his parents and I get what he went through. This is gonna bring up a lot of shit, he's gonna need friends. I don't want to risk anything being awkward,” he all but pleads. 

He can hear her exhale sharply through her nose.

“Fine.”

Eddie may have bought himself some more time, but he still hasn't found the extra confidence he needs to follow through. 

The house doesn't quite exist in real life the way it does in Steve’s mind. Years of thick muddy emotion have warped its image. He expects it to feel looming, maybe even look sinister. Something more akin to the boarded-up old Creel house over on Morehead. Anything to make his trembling hands feel more valid. It doesn't, though. It’s just a house. A house haunted with memories, but a house all the same.

It’s strange. He thinks the doorbell may even sound different than he remembers. When his mother answers the door she has the gall to do it with a soft face that looks far too much like Steve’s. That's one thing he's always been grateful for: he looks just like his mom, his dad is barely there. Maybe the Harrington men just have weak genes.

He’s in clothes he knows will look vaguely familiar to her. Faded, thrifted reminders of what he used to wear. The polos were ditched after Jack threw up on his last one. Turns out, they're pretty expensive. If there's one thing Steve has learned over the past six years, it's how much the Harringtons live in excess. When you always have it you don't think about it. When you don't it's impossible not to. 

Steve’s mom spends a lot of time catching him up on what they've been up to over coffee. He occupies his thoughts with his goodbye to Eddie earlier. It's funny how Eddie has gone from his last to his first call for Jack. He doesn't answer by asking if she’s okay anymore. Now, it’s usually a simple Everything good? Need a hand with the menace?

 Steve dropped Jack off with him at the store. Eddie set her up on her little keyboard he keeps behind the counter for her. That way she’s practicing, entertained, and supervised. He smiled when he placed the big black headphones over her ears. She’s started putting stickers on them. A lot of little stars, a few dinosaurs, and even a pink band-aid on the headband. 

Eddie pulled Steve a little off to the side before he goes. He offered him a soft, comforting smile. For a moment, Steve thought Eddie might kiss him. Their bodies hovering close, Eddie’s hand still holding Steve’s arm from pulling him, and Eddie’s tongue darting out to wet his lips. Then he started talking.

“Listen, don't be afraid to bail, okay?” He said in earnest.

“What does that mean?”

“Don't be afraid to just get the hell out of there if you want to. I know it's not your go-to move, but you need to put yourself first. Jack needs you to put yourself first… I need you to put yourself first, Stevie,” he studied Steve’s face as he spoke, voice gently cradling Steve’s heart. 

The words turned Steve into jello. He felt like he was wobbling uncontrollably. The only thing keeping him steady was a warm hand with freshly polished fingernails holding his arm. 

“I will,” he promised.

Eddie grew a fond little smirk.

“Take care of yourself for me, yeah?” He said.

“You first,” Steve matched his expression.

Eddie’s eyes melted into something tender.

“I mean it.”

“I know, Eds.”

Steve, of course, doesn't depart without a round of I love you mostest with Jack.

The whole world feels a little tilted. Or maybe that's just Steve. His mother talks, but he barely listens. Until he hears his name.

“How’s Little Steve?” She asks.

Steve takes a measured sip of his coffee, staring his mother down across from him in an armchair. 

“Her name is Jack,” he tells her cooly. 

“You named your daughter Jack ?” 

“No, I named her Jacquline, but she prefers just Jack,” he informs her.

“Well, she's still little, you can force that out of her,” his mother says like it's a relief.

Steve can't help it. Honestly, he doesn't even try to. His eyebrows furrow, he shakes his head a bit, and his mouth curls in distaste. 

“Why would I do that?” He questions.

“Something like Jackie would just be better suited for a cute little girl.”

“You don't even know what she looks like,” he breathes a disbelieving laugh, “She likes the name Jack. It's her name.”

His mother sighs and places her mug gently on the coffee table. Just like she used to when she was about to tell him how disappointed she was. The action alone raises Steve’s hackles.

“I’m not trying to argue, Steven. I’m simply trying to give you advice as a parent. You have to know what's best for your kids, even if they don't like it,” she says.

Steve’s nostrils flare. Don't be afraid to bail. He should. He knows he should.

“Yeah, well, forgive me if I don't take parenting advice from you. Jack is happy and healthy, not that you really even asked. Jack is only six years old and can play more than one instrument. You don’t care about any of that, though. Do you? You just care that I’m not raising her like you would; forcing her into an identity that she’ll grow up to hate,” he bites. 

She frowns, but Steve can't find it in himself to care. He takes another casual sip of his coffee. 

“Right… Well, it sounds like you’re doing okay, then,” she comments.

“Yeah, sure am. Is he awake yet?” 

His mother goes to check if his father’s woken up. When she comes down to beckon him up, he follows. Strangely, his heartbeat slows with each step closer. It’s like time is moving through him at the speed of molasses. After a small personal century, he makes it to the door. It's already open and waiting for him, making the terrible journey marginally easier. 

The man in the bed before him is a memory and not a good one. He’s gaunt, pale, with paper-like skin, and thin hair that he once would have paid anything to hide. The comforter nearly drowns him, just his neck up is visible. He offers Steve the smallest of smiles. Steve doesn't accept or return it. He just stands at the foot of the bed, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

“I’m glad you came,” his father’s weakened voice says.

“Why did you want me to?” Steve can't help but ask.

“Steven, there's no nice way to put it. I’m dying. I didn't want to do that without seeing my only son again. Without meeting my grandchild,” he answers.

“You can forget that last one. Jack isn't coming near this house. You get me, that's it,” Steve tells him.

He lets out a rattling breath that Steve thinks may be a sigh.

“How is her mother?” He asks. 

“I wouldn't know.”

“I suppose you never did learn a lesson.”

What kind of lesson is kicking your kid and his baby out? Steve thinks bitterly. Again he hears the words: don't be afraid to bail. 

“Is there an actual reason you wanted me here or am I free to go?” He questions.

“My estate.”

That takes Steve off guard. He didn't think his father's estate would be a discussion he's involved in.

“What about it?”

“I want to leave a good portion of it to my grandchild. That way she can do what you couldn't,” he informs Steve.

Steve’s heart drops to the floor. That would be life-changing money. It would mean college for Jack. He knows there's a catch, though. There always is.

“And what's that?” He asks tensely.

“Make the Harrington name proud.”

Steve's stomach joins his heart in a pile on the hardwood. There are so many things he could say, so many things he wants to say. He doesn't, though. Instead, he thinks about Jack and her future. 

“What do you want from me?”

“Weekends.”

“Weekends?”

“Now, because I believe you're stupid enough to turn down money that could change your daughter’s future, I only ask for time with you. I want to reconnect with my son in my last months. Perhaps by the end, I will get to do so with my granddaughter as well,” he explains. 

“So, you just want me to come by on the weekends?” Steve checks suspiciously.

“I want you here nine to five Saturday and Sunday,” his dad states. 

Steve scoffs.

“What the hell do you want me here that long for?” 

“In addition to spending time with me, you will relieve the regular nurse so she can be with her son on the weekends,” his father informs him.

Steve gapes in disbelief. He knows he needs to say no. He needs to stop entertaining this. There’s no way. There is no way he’s giving up his weekends with Jack. You need to put yourself first, he remembers Eddie telling him, Jack needs you to put yourself first… I need you to put yourself first. The problem with that promise is the fact that Steve Harrington is a father. A damn good one at that. Jack will always come first. He can't not entertain even the most ridiculous of ideas if there's a possibility of providing something for her.

“How much?”

“Does the amount matter that much? Isn't the knowledge it’ll be more than you could ever give her enough?” His father inquires.

Steve swallows the insult that pops into his mouth.

“It matters,” is all he can get out.

“In total, my estate is around $250,000. 100,000 would go to your mother and 150,000 to your daughter.”

Steve wipes the corners of his mouth as he takes that in. Roughly three months, maybe even less, of his weekends and Jack could have a bank account full of $150,000. How does he turn that down? How does he say no to his daughter’s choice to go to college? To have the secure life that he can’t give her? Then an awful thought strikes that causes bile to burn the back of his throat. Would denying her that make him no better than his father? He sighs with his hands on his hips. 

“Yeah, okay. Starting next week,” he answers.

His father gives him a sickly smile that he doesn't return. If Steve wasn't afraid of him taking the money from Jack he would tell his father he’s glad he’s dying. He’s excited to see a world without him in it. The thoughts bring him guilt immediately, but he also knows them to be true. 

Steve bids his father an awkward goodbye. His mother hugs him at the door. It takes him a second to hug back. The entire drive back to Eddie’s anxiety bores holes into his skin. He did the exact opposite of what he said he would do. It won't be as bad as the quarry. He’ll still be home by 5:30 every day. He just won't have the majority of his weekend to be with Jack anymore. Right when they were getting back into the groove of it. It's only for three months, he tells himself. He can do three months.

Eddie answers the door laughing.

“You don't have to knock, your kid is in here,” he says. 

Steve smiles shyly as he enters. Jack, as always, barrels toward him and he scoops her up. He really needed this, her wrapped around him. Her hold is always the most reassuring. As long as she’s hugging him like this he knows he's doing something right. He lets her drop down and go back to what she was previously doing. She’s playing with a handful of Eddie’s miniatures like they're tiny dolls. 

Eddie catches Steve's eye and nods toward the kitchen. Steve gets the clue and follows him. It’s far enough to talk low and not have Jack overhear, but they're still able to watch her through the doorway and cutout.

“How’d it go?” Eddie asks immediately in a hushed voice, leaning his hip against the counter.

Steve recounts the conversation with his mom. The faces Eddie makes reflect every thought Steve was having during the conversation. He talks about how weird it was being back and how his father is barely there anymore. He pauses before the estate talk, unsure how to admit the next part.

“Overall, it was okay then?” Eddie checks.

“It was… interesting. I’m- uh- I’m going back,” he answers hesitantly.

Eddie gives a few quick blinks.

“Why would you do that?” He crosses his arms, shoving his hands in his armpits.

Steve crosses his own arms as a reflex.

“Look, before I tell you, I need you to understand that this is complicated-”

“Steve,” Eddie interrupts sternly, but not aggressively, “Why are you going back there?”

“If I take care of him on the weekends until he kicks it, he’ll leave Jack $150,000,” he tells him plainly. 

An expression that's unfamiliar to Steve takes over Eddie’s face. It takes Steve a moment to realize it's irritation. Eddie glances down at his mismatched socks. He wets his lips before looking back up at Steve.

“What happened to putting yourself first?” He asks, voice low and a little pained. 

“Eddie, I’m a dad. I need to think about Jack first,” he sighs.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “Today you needed to think about yourself. If you had and come to me, I could have thought about Jack. I could have helped you figure it out.”

“What's there to figure out? It’s either I do it and can provide for her or I don't and I can’t,” Steve huffs. 

“I could have helped you think it through, weigh the pros and cons. I mean, have you even thought about what you're doing with Jack while you're there? Have you thought about how this might mess with her like your hours at the quarry did?” Eddie can't hold his tongue the way he knows he should.

He knows this isn't his place. He isn't Jack’s parent and Steve isn’t his partner. The moment Eddie steps too close to the line and trips the “calling Steve a bad parent” alarm, Steve’s defenses go up. 

“Of course, I have! It's for three months, at most. I don't understand why you’re being like this. Don't you get what that money could do for her?” Steve questions.

“I get it, but money isn't everything, Steve. You’re providing for her now and she's happy. There are other ways to pay for college. This isn't your only option! Sometimes putting Jack first means putting yourself first. And this? This was one of those times,” Eddie states, clearly growing in annoyance. 

Something bursts in Steve. It's like a button that goes flying and hits all the wrong places in his body. Hurt leaks out of the wounds it leaves behind from Eddie’s judgment. 

“She’s happy because she doesn't know any better! All she’s ever known is the nothing I can give her, but not me. Not me, Eds, I know better. I know all the things I’ll never be able to give her. Doing this, I finally have the chance to give to her what I couldn't have- a chance to have a choice in what her future looks like,” he half shouts half cries as his tears betray him.

Something close to agony takes over Eddie’s features. He runs a hand over his face and looks away for a moment. He needs a break from looking at what he’s done to Steve. It hurts so fucking bad, but he needs to hear what Eddie is saying. Eddie knows that. Eddie also knows that Steve is too hurt to be reasoned with. He’s convinced his choice was the only choice. He forgot that he has Eddie to help him with Jack every step of the way. 

“Whatever, I’m not watching her while you're there. I refuse to be part of this,” Eddie decides softly.

Steve lets out a wet, sarcastic laugh

“Fine! I’ll bring her with me if I can't find anyone. She doesn't have to go in the room,” he shrugs.

Eddie’s face twists in frustrated shock. He thinks about Jack in that house with those people. She might be a Harrington, but she’s not one of them. Picturing her in an environment so similar to his own growing up makes him nauseous. He sees an image of his younger self hiding under the table with his hands over his ears as his father screamed about something. Then, Jack is replacing him, and his instinct to protect her kicks in.

“I’m not letting you bring her near that house,” he tells Steve.

“It’s not really your choice. You’re not her dad, remember? You're just her music teacher,” Steve snaps and storms away from him.

Eddie stands there frozen in the place where Steve just stabbed him through the heart. He hears Jack ask what they were fighting about and Steve tells her not to worry about it. He tells her everything is okay. If Eddie didn't feel like he was bleeding out he might have challenged that. They leave quicker than Jack can say goodbye. Quicker than Eddie can get himself to turn around. How is it possible for words to shatter every bone in his body? That must be what's happening, there's no other explanation for all this pain. 

Jack cries the entire way home because she didn't get to say goodbye to Eddie. Steve tries to console her, but she’ll have none of it. By the time they're entering the apartment, she’s transitioned from crying to angry. Her little stomps communicate what she can’t verbally yet. 

She asks him why they were fighting and why Steve was being mean to Eddie. He knows he can't tell her the truth, she won't understand. He also knows Jack will side with Eddie no matter what. Steve’s side will look like less Steve and no Eddie to her. She won't have that. So, he tells her sometimes friends argue and that expressing how you feel doesn't equal being mean. He turns this into a lesson for her. He finds a way to make this into something he can provide her with. It lets him feel a little less helpless.

A few days after the argument with Steve, Wayne is understandably confused to see Eddie on his doorstep unplanned and unannounced. Usually, he’ll call ahead to make sure Wayne is home. This time he was ready to let himself in and wait on the couch if he had to. A solemn expression is etched onto his face. Worry instantly takes over Wayne’s. He’s in his normal denim and flannel.

“What’s going on, Ed?” He asks gently.

Eddie clears his throat of the lingering emotion.

“I think I really fucked up,” his voice comes out hoarse.

Wayne immediately ushers him inside. Eddie lets himself be guided to the ratty old couch that used to be Wayne’s bed. When he sits down, Wayne places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Tell me what happened,” he says.

Eddie exhales deeply through his nose. Then he tells Wayne every regretful thing he said to Steve. He hates himself more the second time. It wasn’t entirely his fault, he wasn't entirely in control. The memories took the reins and turned him reactionary. He felt the line he leaped over like a hurdle pass by beneath him, but had no breaks. 

“That ain’t good, Ed,” Wayne sighs when Eddie finishes.

“I know. Jesus, he probably hates me. I would hate me,” Eddie drops his face into his hands. 

“I’m sure he doesn't hate you. He may be mighty upset, but hate is strong,” Wayne tells him thoughtfully. 

“I might as well have called him an awful father and spit in his face,” Eddie agonizes.

“Well, do you think he’s an awful father?”

Eddie’s head shoots up to look at Wayne incredulously. 

“What? No, Steve is literally the best father I've ever seen,” he states.

“Alright, so go apologize.”

“I don't think he wants to hear from me.”

“Ed, you've been coming ‘round here talking about that Harrington kid and the amazing little girl he’s got for months now. Based on what I hear, I can tell you that a call from you wouldn't be turned down. Especially not if it included a genuine apology,” Wayne says.

Eddie sits with his uncle’s words for a moment. Part of what's holding Eddie back is the embarrassment. He’s embarrassed by how he acted and he wants nothing more than for Steve to come over with Jack again. He wants nothing more than for Steve to look at him again. The last time Steve’s eyes met his, they were full of hurt Eddie wished he could snatch back.

“I hope so ‘cause, Wayne, I dunno how to live without them anymore,” he admits pathetically.

“I know, kiddo. For what it's worth, I think they'd have a hard time without you too,” Wayne tells him softly. 

Eddie gives him a small smile. Then his eyes go vulnerable and nervous.

“Do you think I’d be good at it?” He asks.

Wayne furrows his eyebrows at his nephew.

“Good at what?”

“Y’know… being a dad.”

Wayne’s features soften as he studies his nephew. Where does the time go? It feels like just yesterday he was hauling Eddie back to Hawkins with him. Now, here Eddie sits considering fatherhood. 

“I think you already are,” he answers honestly.

“Steve’s made it very clear I’m not,” Eddie counters self-deprecatingly.

“That's only ‘cause in trying to be a dad you forgot to be a partner too. You made Steve feel like you were against him, not with him. You gotta find a balance, Ed. You gotta talk about boundaries when it comes to that kid. You two were riding so high on emotion neither of you took the time to really think. Maybe it got too family-like too fast, or maybe y’all just need to get better at talking, I don't know. All I know is, with the way you talk about those two, that’s your family. If there’s anything I’ve taught you, I hope it’s that the one thing we do for our family is fight for’em. Sometimes with’em, but always for’em,” Wayne lectures with a warm tone that soothes Eddie.

Eddie takes a steadying breath and he absorbs his uncle’s words. He nods, staring down at where he fiddles with his rings.

“Thanks, Wayne, for everything,” he says softly.

“It's what I’m here for,” Wayne shrugs.

“No, I mean… everything. I know how hard it must've been to raise me. Before Steve, I thought I got it, but I didn't. I didn't until I saw him doing it,” he elaborates.

Wayne smiles tenderly.

“Eddie, it’s what I’m here for.”

Eddie smiles and hugs his uncle. It’s a sweet reminder that this little trailer in Forest Hills will always welcome him home.

What does it mean to provide such gentle touches to the man who provided you with violent blows? It has to have some meaning, right? Some poetic or cosmic justice that makes this make sense. Steve’s father put him and Jack out on the street on the day she was born. On Steve’s birthday. So, why does he now find himself giving his bedridden dad his weekends? Why can't he tell him to fuck off like Eddie wanted? The answer is the same for everything else he does. Jack.

Jack is why he’s working himself to death. Jack is why he's subjecting himself to his father every weekend. Jack is why he hasn't spoken to Eddie, aside from passing greetings when dropping her off at the store, in a week. He never once thinks that Jack is the reason he’s miserable, though. She isn't. She’s the only thing that brings him joy through all this. She is his smile. Only right now, he’s frowning at Robin at the Buckley’s. 

Steve, Jack, and Robin have dinner with Grandma and Grandpa Buck once a month. Jack is in the kitchen helping Grandma Buck stir the stew while Grandpa Buck works on his car out in the garage. Robin hasn't said a word. She’s just staring. Steve has grown a frown in response.

“What, Rob?” He finally breaks.

“Max told me there's something going on with you and Eddie,” she blurts.

Steve sighs and closes his eyes for a second.

“What did she say?” He asks, already tired of the conversation.

“Well, Eddie isn't really saying much. So, all she knows is from Jack. Jack told her you two got into a fight and made each other sad,” she tells him softly. 

Steve exhales a laugh through his nose.

“Yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it.”

“Are you going to talk it out?” 

“We… both said some things I’m not sure there's coming back from,” he shakes his head slightly.

“There’s no way either of you said anything that bad,” she attempts to assure him. 

Steve levels Robin with a sad stare.

“He tried to tell me how to parent Jack and I called him just her music teacher,” he sighs.

Robin lets out a low whistle.

“Yeah, okay, that’s… not great. I still think you can talk through it, though.”

Steve rubs his eyes in exhaustion.

“Rob, he crossed a line. I know that it can feel like co-parenting at times, but it's not. I love him, but we’re not together and he's not her parent,” he states frustratedly.

Robin’s eyes nearly fly out of her head. Steve gives her a questioning look. A shit-eating grin appears on her face.

“Steve,” she says.

“What?”

“Steve! ”

“Robin, if you're not gonna tell me-”

“You love Eddie?” Her voice was quieter, likely to avoid Jack accidentally overhearing. 

Steve’s heart picks up at breakneck speed. Heat floods his entire body as a knot tightens in his stomach. That is what he said, isn't it? Is that why this whole situation has felt like someone taking a set of pliers to his teeth?

“Fuck,” he breathes, wiping the corners of his mouth as he stares blankly at the coffee table.

“I think now’s the time you run to him and have a dramatic make-up scene,” Robin teases.

Steve frowns.

“It doesn't change anything. He told me he wouldn't let me bring Jack to my parents’ place. He questioned if I had Jack’s best interest in mind. He’s just another person to add to the list of people who think I’m fucking this whole thing up,” he mumbles the last part bitterly. 

Robin’s features melt into concern. She leans forward, arms on her knees.

“No one thinks that. I can tell you for a fact that Eddie definitely doesn't think that. He… could have handled things better, sure, but he thinks the world of you as a father, Steve. I mean, you have to know that by now,” she says sympathetically. 

“Then he can tell me that after apologizing,” Steve scoffs. 

“Yeah, that’s fair,” she nods.

Jack comes darting into the room and announces dinner has been finished. She takes them both by the hand to lead them to the dining room. Steve spends the rest of the night thinking about how he’s in love with Eddie Munson. 

It might be playing dirty, but Steve found a loophole. He asks Max to watch Jack on Saturday. Which means Jack ends up at Mordor Music. Eddie can't pretend like he's upset. Seeing Jack is always a treat. She bounds in, Max trailing behind, with an excited stream of Eddie! Eddie! Eddie! He loves when she acts like she didn't just see him the other day for her lesson.

Eddie is crouched behind the counter, searching for a new pack of pens. The last one died unceremoniously on him as he was logging inventory. 

“Uh-oh, I hear trouble,” he announces with a smile as he stands up.

Jack doesn't hesitate running around to the back of the counter. Eddie scoops her up so she can cling to him. 

“I miss you,” she whines.

His heart aches.

“I know, I miss you too, princess,” he says softly.

“Daddy misses you too,” she tells him.

A sad smile crawls onto his face.

“Yeah? I miss him too,” he admits.

“When can I see your little guys again?” She asks with big eyes so dark they may just swallow all light that comes close.

Eddie cringes and his eyes shift to Max. She leans her elbows on the other side of the counter. A small smile is on her face as she watches the two of them. She offers him a sympathetic, but comforting look.

“I- uh- I dunno, but I hope soon,” he answers warmly.

“Will you come to Thanksgiving?” Jack asks hopefully.

Eddie gets stuck in an awkward uh… for a moment. His eyes dart between Jack and Max. Max looks happy to not be in Eddie’s shoes right now.

“I- I don't know. I got family to see too, y’know,” he answers with a tight smile.

Jack settles a confused look on him. She always manages to let him know when she thinks he's being stupid with just a look.

“Your family is the same as mine,” she tells him.

Eddie’s own face twists into confusion. 

“What d'you mean?”

She seems to struggle frustratedly with her words. Sometimes Jack has thoughts and feelings bigger than her vocabulary. As a kid who can usually tell you how she feels, it can be annoying for her.

“I’m your family. You have to eat with me,” she informs him.

Eddie could've cried right then and there. Popping sparks of electric joy travel across his skin. Jack thinks of him as family. His joy falters when he thinks of Steve. Eddie isn't sure Steve would feel the same.

“I would love to eat with you, princess, but I got my own dad waiting for me,” he says.

She’s utterly taken aback by that new bit of information. Her two little hands find Eddie’s face as she stares with set brows.

“When did you get a daddy too?” She asks very seriously. 

It takes everything for Eddie not to start laughing. Even Max claps a hand over her mouth to stop herself. Jack’s just so serious it's adorable. He thought calling Wayne his dad would be less complicated. That word better fits their relationship anyways. Boy, was he wrong.

“I've always had one. I just don't live with him anymore so you've never met.”

Jack frowns. It dawns on Eddie that she’s used to people showing up and being added to their mod podge family. Naturally, she assumed that's what happened with Eddie. It did happen with Eddie in a way, but now he's not certain of where he stands. It startles him when sadness takes over her soft round features.

“I thought you were ours,” she says quietly with a slight waver. 

Eddie knows she didn't mean the words to feel as heavy as they do. He swears they rip him in half, right down the center. His lips part slightly as he tries to figure out what to say. Max can only offer a small smile before walking into the back. Eddie sighs and sits Jack on the counter in front of him. He uses his newly free hands to comb through his hair. I thought I was yours too, he thinks, but then I went and fucked it all up. 

“Hey, listen to me, alright,” he says softly, “As long as you want me to be your family, I’m your family. Me having a dad doesn't change that, okay?”

She nods, her big eyes sparkling with a swirl of emotions. 

“I like it better with you,” she tells him.

He doesn't have to ask what she means, he knows. Jack likes her family, and her life, better with Eddie in it. It’s enough to flatten him out. It’s enough to light a flame of determination to talk and apologize to Steve. 

“Yeah, I like it better with you too.”

Steve walks into the store at five-fifteen that evening. At first, he doesn't see anyone. Then he can hear the giggling. Only, it isn't just Jack’s. It’s Eddie’s too. As he continues forward, they come into view. Jack sits in Eddie’s lap on the chair behind the counter, off to the side. Eddie has a magazine open in front of them. Whatever articles Jack pointed out Eddie would read in different funny and dramatic voices. The content of the articles doesn’t matter, just the voices Eddie is doing. They make her giggle, which makes Eddie giggle.

As he gets closer, Steve catches Eddie’s attention. His startled eyes flicker from Steve to the clock on the wall. He quickly closes the magazine, which finally brings Jack’s attention to Steve. She hops off of Eddie’s lap to run and jump into his arms. The tightness and urgency of Steve’s hug don't go unnoticed by Eddie. He hugs her like that after a tough day. Eddie knows that because he’s seen plenty of Steve’s tough days by now.

“Uh- sorry, Max had to run out for a second so I was just trying to entertain her,” he’s quick to explain. 

He didn't expect Steve’s sweet honey eyes to meet his with a warmth that raises his body temperature. The smallest hint of a smile plays on the corners of Steve’s mouth. Eddie can't help wondering if Steve is happy to see him despite everything, just like Eddie is.

“It’s okay. Thanks for watching her,” he says as he lets her down.

“Yeah, ‘course, I’m happy to,” Eddie replies. 

There's a beat of awkward silence as Jack retrieves apple juice. Eddie ran across the street to grab it earlier. Steve’s eyes stay trained on Eddie and vice versa. Finally, Eddie musters up the courage.

“Steve, I’m real-”

“Not now,” Steve shakes his head.

Eddie visibly shrinks in the wake of rejection. 

“I know and I want to talk, but I’m exhausted right now, Eds.”

Eddie nods in understanding. Jack hugs Eddie goodbye. He’s wondering if he should say goodbye to Steve the right way when he’s beaten to it.

“Take care of yourself for me,” Steve tells him softly.

A smile dripping in all the warm gooey emotion Eddie is experiencing grows on his face.

“You first,” he responds.

Then they're gone. Eddie is left sitting there with a racing heart and the deep ache to follow them.

<< Page Two | Series Photo Album | AO3 | Page Four >>

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie dads #steddie brainrot #steve harrington x eddie munson #single dad!Steve Harrington #teen dad!Steve Harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington #single dad steve harrington #dad steve harrington #girl dad steve harrington #steddie kidfic #steddie kid fic

[prickly-pores]

mid2023

this app is such a time capsule for me. so many bad memories, so many good, so much growth has occured since i went on here daily for escape, inspiration, community, looking for meaning and solace. damn. my emotions are gratittude and pride rn. love to see it. 

life update wise time, this year, my little sister, newly18, moved in. I spent many weeks planning for, shopping for, and building her dream bedroom, full of bookshelves, fairylights, art, her first double bed, and even a window seat that I handmade using my growing tool collection, and i feel really good and warm about that. While i didn’t move out of home myself until i was sure she’d be safe, I was still worried for her. So its just good to be able to watch over her and keep guiding her through life n healing from the the scars of our childhood. I’m very grateful that my partner and I can provide her with a safe loving home environment to live out the rest of her teens. Especially given the housing and rental market these days. Having a the level of housing security we have is also just something i’ll truly never take for granted. 

I guess thats another thing I’m proud of this year. I’ve put so much blood, sweat and tears into making this house a home, I’ve taught myself so many skills from plumbing, tiling, plastering, carpentry, landscaping and how to use countless power tools. I’ve taken sledge hammers to walls, I’ve pulled up flooring and replaced it, I’ve trimmed out doors, I’ve hung doors, I’ve built cabinets and cabinet doors even benchtops from scratch, I’ve built so many bookshelves and painted so many walls, I’ve reupholstered, I’ve made and hung curtains, I’ve just taught myself so many skills and shown so much determination and pluck in the face of adveristy. I’ve pulled mutiple 80hr work weeks to finish projects I thought would be a simple weekend job. I’ve truly put my heart into this house and I am just so impressed with myself. True, I look around me now and see 101 unfinished projects, but I’ve progressed things so far, and for the first time ever in my life i’ve let myself really see my adhd as something to work with not against and the results have been astounding.... 

Relationship wise. no doubt about it. i am in deep. I used to think that deep love like this wasnt real or sustainable. or that it meant a type of unhealthy enmeshment. but i think ive realised, as scary as it is, u do just gotta be vulnerable, you’ve got to let them guards down to let someone in, to let yourself be cared for, to care for another, and i’ve never felt love like this before. every year that passes i feel closer to him than ever before. i dont believe in one off soul mates, yet our connection does feel like whatever people are getting at when they use that word. wild times. 

Overall checkin wise, I’m starting to feel more like my old self, or should i say my young self, that young girl who used to be full of energy, love and cheek. And that’s something I never would’ve imagined was possible. It really does get better... when you put the work in and find good people to surround yourself with, when u work thru your trauma with a therapist, when u have a partner whos willing to learn and grow with you, who serves as a corrective experience, as a model of secure attachment, age old wounds can begin to heal... 

anyway, its nippy outside rn and i just feel the biggest urge to go for a walk in a wide open field, climb to the peak, and yell into the wind. so imma go do that. 

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOUR EMPLOYEES AND INVESTORS WILL CONSTANTLY BE ASKING ARE WE THERE YET

I think I've figured out what's going on. After the first 10 or so we learned to treat deals as background processes that we should ignore till they terminated.1 Don't Get Your Hopes Up. Something hacked together means something that barely solves the problem, the harder it is to bait the hook with prestige. And that is almost certainly mistaken. So one thing that falls just short of the standard, I think, should be the highest goal for the marginal. Big companies think the function of office space is to express rank. As big companies' oligopolies became less secure, they were willing to pay a premium for labor. You can see it in old photos. If you're friends with a lot of the worst kinds of projects are the death of a thousand cuts. And what's especially dangerous is that many happen at your computer.

And the microcomputer business ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. In 1450 it was filled with the kind of turbulent and ambitious people you find now in America. You have to like what they do there than how much they can get the most done. That's not what makes startups worth the trouble. Design This kind of metric would allow us to compare different languages, but that if someone wanted to design a language explicitly to disprove this hyphothesis, they could probably do it. This technique can be generalized to: What's the best thing you could be doing, not just what you can see the results in any town in America. With this amount of money can change a startup's funding situation completely. There I found a copy of The Atlantic. Whereas it's easy to get sucked into working longer than you expected at the money job.2 That's ok. I think you have to do all three. But more importantly, you'll get into the habit of doing things well.

But what if the person in the next 40 years will bring us some wonderful things.3 They all know about the VCs who rejected Google. The writing of essays used to be.4 You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.5 He improvises: if someone appears in front of him, he runs around them; if someone tries to grab him, he spins out of their grip; he'll even run in the wrong place, anything might happen. The people who've worked for a few months I realized that what I'd been unconsciously hoping to find there was back in the place I'd just left. It was supposed to be something else, they ended up being Apple vs Microsoft. By 2012 that number was 18 years. The first thing you need is to be willing to look like a fool.6 Google they have a fair amount of data to go on. John Malkovich where the nerdy hero encounters a very attractive, sophisticated woman.

Many of the big companies were roll-ups that didn't have clear founders.7 Empirically, the way to the bed and breakfast, and other similar classes of accommodations, you get to hit a few difficult problems over the net at someone, you learn pretty quickly how hard they hit them anyway. Inexperienced founders make the same mistake as the people who list at ABNB, they list elsewhere too I am not negative on this one was the only way to get lots of referrals is to invest in students, not professors. It will actually become a reasonable strategy or a more reasonable strategy to suspect everything new.8 Never say we're passionate or our product is great. Whereas undergraduate admissions seem to be disappointments early on, when they're just a couple guys in an apartment. Programmers at Yahoo wouldn't have asked that.9 Incidentally, this scale might be helpful in deciding what to study in college. VCs think they're playing a zero sum game.

I spend most of my time writing essays lately. Almost everyone's initial plan is broken. If smaller source code is the purpose of comparing languages, because they come closest of any group I know to embodying it. Distracting is, similarly, desirable at the wrong time. But if we make kids work on dull stuff now is so they can get away with atrocious customer service. In fact, here there was a kid playing basketball? Of course, figuring out what you like.

Go out of your way to bring it up e. The industry term here is conversion. Try to keep the sense of wonder you had about programming at age 14. At least if you start a startup, people treat you as if you're unemployed.10 But hacking is like writing. Even with us working to make things happen the way they used to, they were moving to a cheaper apartment. It causes you to work not on what you like, but is disastrously lacking in others. I do in the rest of the world. Their defining quality is probably that they really love to program.

I could only figure out what to do, there's a natural tendency to stop looking.11 Economies of scale ruled the day.12 One is that this is simply the founders' living expenses.13 I need to transfer a file or edit a web page, and I think I know what is meant by readability, and I think they're onto something. Multiply this times several hundred, and I get an uneasy feeling when I look at my bookshelves. You may have read on Slashdot how he made his own Segway.14 Everyday life gives you no practice in this. Startups grow up around universities because universities bring together promising young people and make them work on anything they don't want to want, we consider technological progress good.

Notes

Samuel Johnson said no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money. Which is precisely my point. If they were regarded as 'just' even after the egalitarian pressures of World War II the tax codes were so new that the guys running Digg are especially sneaky, but except for money. They don't know enough about the new top story.

The image shows us, they tended to make money. But we invest in the Bible is Pride goeth before destruction, and one of the fake leading the fake leading the fake. In No Logo, Naomi Klein says that 15-20% of the aircraft is.

But because I realized the other writing of Paradise Lost that none who read a draft, Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson. If they agreed among themselves never to do due diligence for an investor? The best technique I've found for dealing with the other.

I ordered a large number of startups as they do for a public event, you can ignore. If you want to help the company, and a few of the Facebook that might produce the next Apple, maybe the corp dev is to show growth graphs at either stage, investors decide whether to go to die.

If you walk into a big company CEOs in 2002 was 3.

Or rather, where w is will and d discipline. But that turned out the existing shareholders, including that Florence was then the richest country in the sense of mission.

In Shakespeare's own time, because they can't afford to. The company may not be able to raise their kids in a company in Germany. When we got to see the apples, they said, and why it's next to impossible to write an essay about it wrong. That will in many cases be an open booth.

I'm not saying you should probably be worth trying to tell them exactly what constitutes research in the early 90s when they say they bear no blame for any particular truths you'll learn. As Jeremy Siegel points out that there is undeniably a grim satisfaction in hunting down certain sorts of bugs. Did you know about it as if you'd invested at a discount of 30% means when it was actually a great programmer doesn't merely do the right direction to be is represented by Milton.

But a lot of the next round. It's hard to say exactly what your body is telling you. In Russia they just kill you, they tend to be very unhealthy. One thing that drives most people realize, because you have two choices, choose the harder.

Though Balzac made a lot of classic abstract expressionism is doodling of this essay talks about programmers, but one by one they die and their houses are transformed by developers into McMansions and sold to VPs of Bus Dev. Or rather, where it sometimes causes investors to act. Eric Raymond says the best hackers want to trick admissions officers. And no, unfortunately, I mean efforts to protect widows and orphans from crooked investment schemes; people with a truly feudal economy, you better be sure you do in proper essays.

The top VCs thus have a better education. Or a phone, IM, email, Web, games, books, newspapers, or some vague thing like that. You need to fix. But the question is not much to maintain their percentage.

Kant. Loosely speaking. The real decline seems to them to lose elections. Some types of startups where the recipe is to say incendiary things, they can grow the acquisition offers most successful founders still get rich simply by being energetic and unscrupulous, but they get for free.

World War II to the frightening lies told by older siblings. That's one of the most general truths. As we walked in, we found they used it to get into that because a unless your last funding round.

But this seems an odd idea.

Thanks to Jessica Livingston, Shiro Kawai, Garry Tan, Chris Small, and Nikhil Nirmel for sharing their expertise on this topic.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #li #secure #discipline #sup #things #Whereas #efforts #startups #Apple #Dev #Nirmel #Atlantic #turbulent #Thanks #people #situation #Siegel #Web #Incidentally #tax #event #age #draft

[inorganicone2230]

Divine Intervention (Part 3) Yandere!Erasermic x Fem!Reader

Part 2 Part 4

Summary: Sometimes a little divine intervention is necessary to take back the ones we love… whether they want it or not.

Warnings: Suicide, kidnapping, forced relationship, emotional and mental manipulation, typical Yandere behavior, possible non-con in future chapters

Side note: Holy shit! I certainly hope you guys have some time because this one is LONG! I’M TALKING 5K WORDS!!! Hopefully no one minds lol

Please enjoy!

“And was that the newest one?”

You laid back on the couch and sighed, “Yes. I just wish I knew what it meant. I mean, why bring up this supposedly dead woman?”

Doctor Kayama looked down at her notes in thought, “Perhaps it's simply your minds way of filling in the blanks. You've been having these dreams for quite some time now. And as an adolescent you didn't question the details and the facts near as often as you do now that you're an adult.”

You let another sigh fall from your lips. “Yeah, you're probably right, but there already was an explanation for her, she’s dead.”

You had been seeing Doctor Kayama, who specialized in sleep disorders -insomnia, sleep apnea, narcolepsy and in your case, reoccurring dreams/nightmares- since you were 16 and in a way it was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because you had someone unbiased to talk to about them who you felt wasn't going to judge you, and a curse because by constantly talking about them, you could never really forget them or put them out of your head. They were always there, right at the forefront of your mind, just waiting for something in your day-to-day life to trigger a memory of them.

Doctor Kayama pursed her plump lips into a thin line, “The mind is a tricky thing, and dreams are even trickier. I can see that we are not going to make anymore progress today, our time is almost up anyway. And if I'm not mistaken, you have to be to work in an hour.” She said, standing up to put her things away and walk you to the door.

You followed suit, “Yes, I think I’m hitting a blank on how to think about it further. Maybe next week I’ll have some answers… or some ideas at the very least.”

Nemuri smiled at you in response, “I agree. Some time to think more will do you some good.”

You shook her hand and as always, you felt just a little bit better after your session, even if you didn't make much progress. Anything was better than nothing. Wasn't it?

“I'll see you again next week, same time as usual.” With your confirmation to return next week you were out the door and on your way to work.

--------

You were fortunate enough to have found a nice apartment that was within walking distance to both your work and the doctor's office. Right in the middle actually! The only downside was that you had to go further into the city whenever you needed to do shopping. You made decent money at the bookstore/cafe that you worked at, but the area didn't really have any grocery stores, just a lot of restaurants and gas stations. And while that was fine every now and then, you would prefer not to waste all your hard earned money on expensive meals and unhealthy junk food.

You were about halfway home though when something caught your eye, or rather someone… and it made you freeze.

‘Was that? No… it couldn't be? Could it…?’

For just a moment you could have sworn you caught sight of a familiar head of golden hair. Long and soft looking, it caught the glare from the afternoon sun on the fresh snow in just a way that it seemed to make the strands glitter in the light.

Without a second thought you instinctively began to head in the same direction. Or you would have, if your phone hadn't rang. 

You scrambled to pull it from your purse. “Hello?” A brief pause, “No that's fine. I was going to stop at my apartment on the way but I can just head straight there, it's no trouble.” Another pause, “Sounds good. I’ll see you soon, bye bye.”

Hanging up and putting away your phone you took a look around, you had lost sight of whoever that was. “Oh who am I kidding, it was nothing! Just someone's regular blonde hair, my eyes and that appointment I just had are playing tricks on me.” You reassured yourself. It was a strange thing to see but there was no way it was real. With your pep talk over you began your trek to the bookstore.

In your haste you failed to notice the lime green eyes that watched you from the roof of the building beside you. Eyes that watched you with a predatory hunger. The bounce of your hair, the sway of your hips, the curves of you soft form. All of it was focused on you and you alone and the predator licked his lips in anticipation.

“Soon (Current Name), soon.”

--------

You made it to work with a few minutes to spare and after exchanging pleasantries with your coworker and going through the usual shift-change duties, you were ready to start your day.

It was a Saturday and with most people still in school or at work, plus the cafe being closed, it was proving to be a rather slow afternoon. You did the usual tasks of dusting the shelves, taking inventory and putting away new items, calling people to inform them of their special orders and just general basic things. You soon found yourself with nothing else to do. Not even a customer to hep out!

Luckily, the couple that owned the store didn't mind the employees reading on shift as long as everything else was done and no customers needed help. Taking a seat behind the counter you began to read your current book. A horror/mystery novel about a young girl who goes to sleep in her bed but wakes up in an old house with no windows or doors leading outside, she has to find a way out while being haunted by whispering voices and a tall pale figure with teeth for lips that watches her from the shadows.

You had only gotten a few chapters in when you heard a voice speak to you though. “Excuse me miss? Could you help us?”

Funny, you hadn't heard the bell go off when the door was opened, nor had you felt the draft from the chilly winter weather outside. But you simply wrote it off, thinking you were too engrossed in your book. None the less you mark your page and put the book down. “Of course! What can I do for y-...” You freeze mid sentence.

Standing in front of you are two very familiar looking men. Both tall and handsome in their own way, but as different as night and day. 

The tallest one had black hair that brushed his shoulders and a serious case of five o'clock shadow. His eyes were just as dark as his hair, though admittedly, that could have been because he looked like he hadn't slept in a week. He was dressed in black jeans, a gray t-shirt and a heavy black winter pea-coat.

The other man practically radiated sunshine with his rather long blonde hair and bright green eyes framed by simple square glasses. Multiple piercings adorned his ears along with other jewelry, a silver chain wrapped twice around his neck and a few rings to match. He was dressed rather similarly to his counterpart but in tans and whites.

It was THEM! The one’s from your dreams… or at least... two men who looked exactly like them. And it scared you…

It took you a second to realize that you must have zoned out when you froze because they were giving you odd looks and asking if you were okay. You managed to give them an admittedly half-assed response. “O-oh yes! I'm p-perfectly fine, you just startled me is all! What can I help you with today?”

Both men exchanged odd glances with each other, like they were having some silent conversation. “Are you sure miss?” The black haired one asked, “Your white as a sheet and look like you've seen a ghost.”

“Yes! Absolutely!” You replied with a forced kind of enthusiasm.

The blonde snickered and gave a feral grin, first to you and then to his companion, “Aww, she's blushing Shouta! Maybe she's just flustered, what with having such good looking guys come in her store!” His insinuation and the wink he throws your way make your eye twitch in irritation. But he’s not done running his mouth, “Well if it makes you feel any better Sweetling, I’d be tripping over myself to if a lovely little thing you walked in on me out of the blue.”

You weren't quite sure how to respond to that. Luckily for you the other one -Shouta, the blonde said?- seemed to know what to do about his friends behavior since he reached out to yank on some of his hair. “Cut it out Hizashi. Can't you see you're making the poor thing as nervous as a wet kitten.”

Hizashi at least had the decency to look apologetic as he rubbed the spot his hair was yanked. “Sorry hun, my mouth gets the better of me sometimes, especially around pretty girls.” He held out his hand to you and grinned again, “Let's start over! I’m Hizashi and this here is my friend Shouta!”

You were still really put off -terrified actually- by their resemblance to the men from your dreams but you had a job to do still. You swallowed your fear and plastered on your best ‘Fake as Shit Face’ Before quickly shaking both their hands. “It's nice to meet you, my names (Fake Name)! What can I do for you today?” You hoped you sounded convincing enough. Your work had a policy about not using real names on the name tags, just better for the employees safety, especially in this day and age. Can't be too careful.

“We were hoping to find some books on religion… reincarnation to be more precise. Possibly even mythology and folklore.” He said it in such a strange way, like he was trying to explain something without going into too much detail.

You thought it was an odd request for sure, but you weren't really one to judge other people's taste in literature since you yourself had some weird ones. Right now all you wanted to do was get them out of the store ASAP.

“Sure! Follow me right this way.”

You lead them to a small section near the back of the left end of the store, no more than three bookshelves. Both sections were right next to each other since more often than not, both genres got classified under the same banner these days. “I’m not to sure if we have anything on reincarnation specifically but if we do it's over here. Feel free to look as long as you want, we're still open for a few more hours so take your time!”

Both of them smiled at you warmly and thanked you profusely.

“It was no trouble, please let me know if I can help with anything else.” You were trying to make a speedy exit. You needed to think, and breath, and process what was going on. But you couldn't do that around their confusing and suffocating presence.

“Oh don't worry Sweets, we'll be sure to let you know when that happens.” Hizashi said in a rather provocative way, obviously trying to get a reaction out of you.

You didn't respond, simply gave a nod  and turned on your heel and began heading straight for the restroom.

Once inside with the door shut and locked tight, you suddenly felt the strangeness of this situation hit you all at once. You ran to the toilet and puked, small quiet tears running down your cheeks as you hyperventilate. ‘What the hell is going on here?!’ Why the fuck do those two look like them?!’

It wasn't just a passing resemblance either, it was like they stepped right out of your mind and into reality. You just couldn't handle this right now. “Maybe they'll have not found anything and left already.” You said to yourself hopefully and decided to give yourself a few more minutes of isolation before going back out there.

Your prayers went unanswered though as you stepped out to see them at the counter, one book in hand and warm smiles on their faces. “You okay there sweetling, you're looking a little pale?”

You waved off the concern and booked it to the register to ring up their purchase. The sooner they paid, the sooner they would leave. At least… you hoped they would.

“I hope you found everything you needed!” You sounded totally fake even to yourself.

Shouta gave a low chuckle, “No, not everything. But I’m sure we'll get what we need very soon.”

Something about the way he said that sent chills up your spine. It almost sounded like a warning. “W-well if you have something specific that you're looking for we can try and order it for you.” Your reply is automatic and as the men share a look, you feel like your being left out of an entire conversation that is taking place right in front of you.

“We’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“Well I hope the two of you have a good evening, please come again!” You gave a short bow to them both.

“Come on! No need to be so formal! You seem like a real sweet girl, you should give us your digits so we can hang out sometime. We know some pretty awesome places to go have some fun.” The blonde suggests, leaning across the counter space and ever closer to you, a large toothy grin on his face.

Without thinking you reply, “Sorry, my boss's have a strict policy about employee/customer relations. Immediate termination if fraternization is found. I like my job so I’d rather keep it. Sorry again.” There was no such rule or policy enforced, but they didn't need to know that.

They give each other that same look again. “That's too bad. We're new to the area and were hoping to meet some new people to hang out with.” Shouta replied, both wore the same dejected look. It almost made you feel bad for fibbing. Almost…

“The folks around here are really great, I’m sure you guys won't have to hard of a time meeting some new people!” You really hoped they would leave or that another customer would come in. Anything to end this weird conversation!

For a moment, the two men frowned, like you said something awful.  But they quickly bounced back, “Well I’m sure we'll be seeing you around either way. We’ll be sure to come back here if we need anything else! Right Shouta!?”

Shouta gave a much quieter response then his friend, “Yes, I’m sure we're on the fast track to becoming regulars for you.”

‘I certainly hope not.’‘ You thought bitterly as you finished saying your goodbyes and watched them walk out the door. If you never saw these men again it would be far far to soon for your liking.

--------

Back in their home in the Heavens and laying in their bed, the two gods of Life and Death basked in the happiness they felt at being in your physical presence for the first time so long.

Hizashi himself was a literal walking bundle of sunshine. “Oh Shouta! I know we've been watching her all her life and sending her those dreams for years, but to be in her presence again after eons apart! The memories didn't do her justice, her voice alone was enough to make my mind go blank.”

Shouta also gave a lighthearted smile, “Yes, and the way she seemed so shy and nervous after she recognized us from the dreams. It really was so sweet and precious. She was such a raging spit viper in the past, I rather like this quiet, demure version of her. Almost seems a shame to waste it by giving her memories back.”

The God of Life nodded along with his opposites words. “Yes, she's going to be quite angry once she remembers everything. Why don't we just forget about the medicine and bring her here as is? Start over completely! New and fresh?”

“Do you truly want that? For her to not remember anything about our time together in the past? Because I don't, I want her to remember the day we met, the time we spent getting to know her, the first time we made love to her. I want her to be able to understand how hurt we were the day she took herself from us!” Shouta’s eyes were beginning to flash red as his hair moved in an unseen wind. “I want to know why she did it in the first place, so that we can do better for her, be better for her. And…” Shouta trailed off here as if he was unsure if he should continue or not.

Hizashi reached out to take his lovers face in his hands and promoted him to continue, “And?”

Shouta took a deep breath, “And perhaps I wish to punish her for it... we have suffered for five thousand years without her, and it just doesn't seem fair that she should get to live in blissful ignorance of what she has put us through. That's why I want her to remember Zashi.”

A mouth was on his as soon as he finished, a warm wet tongue tangled with his own as he readily responded. The kiss lasted a while longer before both deities reluctantly pulled back.

 A smug Hizashi stared down on his other half with lusty eyes, “Very well, I can see your point, we will give her the medicine. But what do we do now that we've made her aware of us outside of the dreams? Do we simply bring her home, or do we wait and play it by ear? I want her here with us, so that she can be safe and happy. It took all my willpower in that shop not to just grab her and bend her over the counter. I can't wait to much longer Shou! So what is the plan? I know you have one.”

Shouta's smile was positively feral, “This is what we will do,...”

--------

The rest of the night went smoothly -despite your nagging fear over the two lookalikes- and you tried your best to be as productive as possible until it was time to close up the shop for the night.

Since you got all your cleaning done so much sooner than usual, it was a relatively easy close. All you really had to do was count down the till and check to make sure all the doors and windows were locked. Easy peasy!

You were excited to get out the door so quickly after such a slow -and admittedly frightening- evening. All you wanted was to get to the comfort of your home where you could relax and breath easy. Tomorrow was the start of your weekend and you had every intention of staying home the entire time!

After checking that the place was locked up you headed for the door. You felt the bitter cold air as soon as you stepped outside, it was a clear night so it was much colder than the overcast day had been. And quiet too, you noted. Not unusual for you, all the other businesses closed at least an hour or two before you, and no bars or restaurants for a few blocks meant that you rarely saw a single soul this late at night. You still kept a switchblade in your coat pocket and pepper spray in your purse though, just in case…

You locked the door and had just started walking when you heard it, the telltale sound of snow and ice crunching under heavy footsteps, two sets. You had a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that you knew who was going to be there when you turned around. You wanted so bad to be proven wrong.

“Well look who it is! Our new favorite bookstore worker! Just closing up shop sweetling?”

Yup, you were right... unfortunately. You turned around and there they were, still dressed in the same clothes and with warm smiles adorning their handsome faces. “Y-Yes, I was just on my way home.” You said, not bothering to put on the fake customer service enthusiasm you had earlier. You hoped they would take the hint and let you go on your way.

They were much closer to you now, only a few feet away, when Shouta spoke next. “You seem awfully tired there Kitten, and it's quite the hour for a pretty young lady like you to be walking the streets so late at night. We'll walk you home.”

Your eye twitched at the use of that nickname, you didn't know these two well enough for them to act so familiar with you. And they never would if you had it your way. “That's not necessary, I live close by and I'm used to walking this la-”

You were cut off by Shouta’s firm voice, “We insist. We'll walk you.” It was practically an order. And it made you bristle. You were just about to tear into him when you were cut off again, this time by the blonde.

“Sorry, what Shouta means to say is that we live in the direction you were going. We have to walk the same way anyway and we just wouldn't feel right NOT walking you this late at night. Come on, don't make us go home worried sick about weather you made it home safely or not. Pretty please?”

You knew this wasn't normal. Meeting two guys -at the same time- who look identical to the men from your dreams, the way they just happen to run into you as your getting off work, that they live in the same direction as you. You wanted so badly to tell them to fuck off and leave you alone, to hightail it and run as far and as fast as you could away from them, but you didn't. You weren't that kind of person, you overthink and over analyze situations that make you feel uncomfortable. Just like now, you couldn't help but think that maybe they really were just trying to be nice, that it was just a coincidence they looked so similar. But another part of you thought that if you did tell them what you really wanted to say, it could backfire on you at work, they could come in and say something to your boss and coworkers. Make it sound like they were just trying to be Good Samaritans and you were being a self-righteous bitch. You needed this job more than you needed your backbone, you thought. So you caved…

“W-well if it's not out of your way, than sure. I could u-use the company.” You know you've made a mistake the second the words leave your mouth.

Both men beamed at your agreement. “Great! Then lead the way Sweetling!” They each took a stand on either side of you as you begin to walk.

Hizashi fills the silence with chatter and small talk while Shouta chimes in every now and then. They ask basic and harmless things, things like; “Do you enjoy working at the bookstore? Have you lived in the neighborhood long? What kinds of things are there to do?” You answer some of them honestly, but some you fib on or give vague nondescript answers. They don't seem to notice, and if they do they don't mention it.

Soon -but not soon enough- the three of you are standing outside your building. It's a modest three story complex, relatively new and decently maintained and you live on the third floor in a small one bedroom flat. You refrain from breathing a sigh of relief while still in their presence. “Well, this is me. Thanks again for walking me home.”

“It was no trouble. Me and Zashi are always happy to help. Especially when such a pretty face is involved.” If this was any other man flashing you that sexy smile you would have gone weak in the knees, all you felt right now was a desire to kick them both.

“Yeah! It was so nice meeting such a cutie right off the bat! And we got to run into you again, that's gotta be fate, right?!” Hizashi says dreamily. Was it just your imagination or had they moved closer to you.

You chuckled nervously, “W-who can s-say? M-maybe, I don't k-know.” They were definitely closer.

“ I'm positive it was! We couldn't stop thinking about you all night! We're so happy to see you again (Y/N)!” Hizashi kept gushing.

You froze in absolute terror. How did he know your real name!? They were still taking turns praising you when you spoke. “How do you know my name?”

Shouta was the first to take notice of your tense tone. “What was that Kitten?”

You didn't bother being polite this time, “I said how the hell do you know my name?! I never gave it to you!” You took a step back and freaked when you felt the brick wall of your building behind you instead of the door.

They looked at each other in that same way from earlier, speaking without words.

“Calm down, you gave us your name when we introduced ourselves in the shop.”

“Yeah, don't you remember? It was even on your name tag.”

If you hadn't heard it so clearly you might have believed them, but you had heard it and you weren't buying their bullshit excuse.

“No! I gave you a fake name in the store, the one you just said is my real birth name! How do you know it?!” Your breathing was labored and you felt lightheaded. A panic attack maybe? You needed to calm down and think straight.

They looked at you for a moment longer, faces blank of any emotion. And then Hizashi laughed, scratching the back of his head like he just made a simple mistake . “Whoops, guess I kind of blew our cover. Sorry Shou, I got carried away and wasn't thinking before I spoke.”

Shouta meanwhile simply shook his head and cuffed him in the arm. “Great job Loudmouth, now we have to move things along faster thanks to your carelessness.”

You were dumbfounded, completely lost as to what was going on in front of you. “What the hell do you two freaks think this is?! Some kind of sick joke?! Because I'm not laughing! What I’m doing is going straight to the cops.” You regretted that last line as soon as you said it because both men's eyes were instantly on you. Bad idea to admit you were going to go to the fuzz. Now you felt like a cornered animal. Like pray. And when your flight or fight response kicked in, you ran to the left, your switchblade and pepper spray completely forgotten in your panicked state. Or tried to anyway.

Two sets of impossibly strong arms grabbed you and shoved you back up against the cold brick wall, a hand covering your mouth to block your screams. Not enough to truly hurt or bruise, but just enough to knock the air from your lungs. Your eyes fell closed for just a second and when you opened them again you were greeted by a sight you only ever saw in your dreams.

They stood before you in ancient but elegant robes, radiating a strange and inhuman aura. Hizashi was dressed in green and emerald, ornate jewelry catching the light from the street lamps above. Shouta was in simple gray and black. Where as before they had only LOOKED like them now they WERE them. They were still smiling like nothing was wrong.

“Oh you won't be doing that Songbird, those pretty little lips aren't going to be singing for anyone but us ever again.” The blonde leaned in closer to whisper huskily in your ear, his warm breath fanning over your numb ear and making you shiver. “You have no idea how amazing it feels to be touching you like this again. You feel so soft Sweetling, I could just devour you right here and now.”

You had gone into shock for a few moments at the drastic change in them, both in physicality and in personality. But as soon as you felt the undeniable press of his hardening groin against your hip, you absolutely lost it. Thrashing, shaking your head, trying to scream through the hand that still covered your mouth and kicking out your legs, but it did you no favors as you soon found yourself too tired to move.

It only seemed to egg the blonde on further when you heard him groan -not in pain- but in pleasure. “Keep that shit up and I’m not gonna be able to hold back.” He said, grinding himself against you harder. You ceased all movement.

“Enough. It's far too cold to be doing that here Zashi. We can enjoy ourselves once we have her safe and sound at home, and warmed up.” Shouta said as casually as if he was ordering a pizza. You began to thrash again with renewed vigor, tears ran down your face and you felt his hand become slick with your drool from your muffled screams.

Hizashi pouted and rolled his eyes, “Fine fine, but it will be a lot easier to get everything ready if she was asleep.”

“I'm one step ahead of you. Do you want to or should I?

“You. I don't think I could hold myself back if I do it.”

“Alright, just take your hand off her mouth when I tell you too.”

This was your chance! As soon as your mouth was free you could scream for help! Even if it was only a second, you had to try! You closed your eyes and waited with bated breath for the pressure on your face to ease up.

“Now.”

The hand was gone. “SOMEONE HEL-” The Hand was replaced with a mouth. Shouta's mouth slammed against yours in a bruising kiss and you felt some kind of bitter tasting liquid slide down your throat. It took you a second to realize that he was still kissing you, sliding his tongue against yours and groaning into your mouth, probably in an effort to keep you quiet while whatever he forced you to drink kicked in. Which wasn't taking long as you felt your mind going hazy and your eyes getting heavy. Well, you weren't going to just take it without a fight, the moment you felt his tongue in your mouth again you bit down. Hard!

He pulled back with a curse shot you a disgruntled look as he spat blood onto the street. “That wasn't very nice. Maybe I was wrong and she dose still have some of that fire left.”

Your mind was foggy and your knees gave out on you, Hizashi caught you before you could hit the frozen ground. “G-go f-f-fuck y-yourselves!”

Both of them just grinned down at you and reached out to stroke your cheeks and hair. Your arms felt heavy, you couldn't even fight back at this point. You were slipping away fast.

“Don't worry Kitten, we'll explain everything once we get you home and you wake up. Things will all make sense soon, we promise.”

“We’ll do better this time. We won't let you get away from us, we've worked too hard to get you back. But we'll tell you all about that after you get some sleep. Just rest for now, your perfectly safe with us Sweetling. We love you so much!”

That was all you heard before sleep claimed you. Your last thought was that you hoped your sleep would be black. The last thing you wanted was to dream and have to see their faces again.

I hope everyone enjoys this extra long chapter, the next one will probably be about the same length, if not just a bit longer! If you have the time please let me know what you thought. I was incredibly worried about the pacing I set for it. I feel like it was too rushed.

As I said before, thank you again to @jadepillar18 for the inspiration on this story!

Enjoy!

#yandere!erasermic #yandere!erasermic x reader #yandere!aizawa #yandere!hizashi #yandere!aizawa x reader #yandere!hizashi x reader #fem!reader #reader insert #aizawa x hizashi #yandere bnha #bnha #gods au #kidnapping #stalking #typical yandere behavior

[justhereforseverus]

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet

Chapter 9: The quality of mercy is not strained.

Summary:

After catching up with Remus, you find your classroom destroyed and your heart broken. Yet, an owl in the middle of the night brings a message of kindness and an unexpected solution to your sleeping problems.

Notes:

Ok, that took a while. Probably a ton of tense mistakes in here. Apologies in advance.

The slow burn is slowly burning faster and I hope you'll like it! Thank you so much for reading! <3

Chapter Text

A couple of days later, Remus had returned to Hogwarts. As the weather was gorgeous, we decided to take a walk in the forbidden forest during our break. You could feel it was getting colder and winter would soon be in full swing but our cloaks kept us warm enough.

“I tell you” – said Remus. “The hidden wizard restaurant on top of the Eiffel Tower is marvellous. The wine and food were superb! That was worth going to this waste-of-time conference. I swear, I almost RAN out the door when Professor Whitaker was done with his hopefully final seemingly endless monologue praising himself. He consistently had to give a 10 minutes ‘not a question but more of a comment’ monologue after every. single. presentation! Some people need to learn to keep it short and simple. Especially when I have a train to catch.”

“Ah yes.” – I commented “Some things never change. When I’m in a conference or a seminar I’m sitting around thinking of the shortest, most effective and relevant thing to say while others just… talk… without any consideration or thought. It’s a skill though.”

Remus watched some squirrels running up a tree and said: “Yes, I guess but you can do that without being an asshole. Anyway, enough of me gossiping about the so-called elite of the teaching wizard society. How have you been? I heard you’ve been filling my seat next to you with someone else.”

“Oh, and who might’ve told you that, I wonder” – I teased. “Well, to make it short. Severus could easily be a first-class actor and we both spent one inspiring evening talking about books. All very innocent and uneventful. And you know you’ll always be my favourite person to sit next to.”

“Seems like someone did at least an average job entertaining you. Just talked about books, eh? Did he scold you on your miserable book taste.”

“What?! I have an excellent taste! Don’t you dare!”

“You don’t like Brecht though. Or any of my cheesy horror story magazines.”

“I can appreciate someone’s impact on the arts without personally liking him. Brecht’s a dick that’s a fact! And I’ve never said I don’t like your magazines. I just find them too predictable.”

“Ok, ok! Did he scold you though?”

“Of course not! He was rather charming.”

“That’s a word I’d never use describing Professor Severus Snape but you do you.”

“There’s a slight problem though.”

“Oh, what would that be?”

“Remus, you’ve know him longer than I do. Do you know if he..”

“I’ve known him for over 10 years, but if you’re asking me if he has some ulterior motives being friendly to you or if he actually has or had something like a love life in the past– I’m afraid I can’t give you a satisfying answer.”

“…I’m very transparent, am I?”

“Yes, you are. Frankly, I think Severus, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Anyone can see that there is something different in his behaviour. He never has been that friendly and caring with a new colleague before. I mean he and Minerva get along well in a competitive and respectful way. He and Sprout talk almost daily but it’s more business than anything else. He respects her knowledge and needs her supplies. Dumbledore often invites him for tea into his office. Apart from that, I’ve never seen him interact with someone on that close basis. He was very attached to a friend of mine during our school years but that didn’t end well and we’ve never talked much about her past together with him. Either way…. I don’t know what to tell you apart from it’s unusual. You should still be cautious though but it seems you two would get along very well IF that’s something he… does.”

I did return to my classroom deep in thoughts. Should I go further? Or maybe that’s not on his mind at all and I over interpreted it. I don’t know…

However, when I turned towards the hallway to my classroom door, all of these thoughts vanished form my mind. The door was unhinged and splintered wood lay all around the floor. It seemed it was forced open with an explosion. After I stepped inside, I saw that my books had been ripped apart and the pages were plastered all over the floor, walls, and the roof. My desk was placed upside down and all the costumes burned to ashes. Over the windows the following words had been written with red paint: “Whore”. In addition, there were enchanted paper planes flying around the room with the same message inscribed on them. I was shocked and paralysed for some minutes. Gaining my strength back, I ran to Dumbledore’s office to get help.

Shortly after, the heads of the houses, Remus, and Dumbledore stood in the room to get an overview of the damage. Remus and Severus tried to find out more about the culprits and the way the security spells have been broken. Dumbledore assured me he won’t tolerate this on his school grounds and will start an investigation immediately. He gave instructions to Pomfrey, Minerva, Severus and Flitwick to inform their houses and communicate that this is not acceptable and that there will be severe punishments. However, he also said that if someone voluntarily comes forward, this will be considered on milder terms. After gaining all the information one could from the crime scene, Remus and I stayed in the classroom to deal with the mess. I’ve stayed quiet during all this. Remus could see I was in peril and hugged me tight after we’ve cleaned everything up.

When I returned to my quarters all the pain I’ve swallowed during the day came pouring over me. I cried on my bed and felt utterly helpless. I’ve expected the backslash. I knew the pure-blood wizards would hold onto the connection that people who act are frivolous liars. That this kind of time-wasting entertainment shouldn’t exist and not taught at a school. But to see the safety of my students compromised.. I wasn’t prepared for this at all and I blamed myself for this.

Sleep was impossible despite my exhaustion. I’ve run out of Severus sleeping potions and didn’t want to use ask for more. In addition, it was raining heavily outside and thus my calming night-walk would’ve been too wet and unhealthy. What to do…

Suddenly I heard a noise on my balcony. A black owl tapped with her beak on the glass door. I let her in and she shook herself to dry, making her surroundings, including me, a bit damp. I gave her some food near the fireplace and took the letter attached to her feet. I read:

“Dear [y/n],

I hope my owl finds you well and it won’t be lost in the rain. 

I can imagine that it might be difficult for you to sleep tonight. I’ve prepared more of the sleeping potion for you. If you need some simply come to my office and knock.

Be assured my house will pay the price if the culprit is one of them.

Yours Sincerely,

Severus Snape”

I made my way to the dungeon immediately. I knew my eyes were puffy and red and I certainly didn’t look very well but I didn’t care. I wanted to talk to him. I just wanted to see him.

While I went downstairs, I heard thunder rattling outside. The rain had transformed into a storm. The thunder made the walls shook and I hurried downstairs.

I knocked and the door opened automatically by magic by recognising me. I stepped inside the office but couldn’t see anyone at first. I looked around and saw that one of the walls was open and through that Severus stepped towards me. His cloak and jacket were missing. He only wore the white shirt and black pants he usually wore underneath his three layers of clothing. Another thing was different this time: he had tied up his long black hair. I certainly wasn’t expecting such a relaxed and casual look. You could see his skinny but muscular chest under the shirt. He seemed to wear a necklace with a pendant on but I couldn’t make out what it was. To be honest, he looked very dashing like that. “Wow.”- I exclaimed before I could stop my brain. “I mean.. hi Severus. That’s not one of your usual looks but I have to say I rather like it.”

“This is not a look. It’s almost midnight and the only person I was expecting was you as Filch has to annoy Flitwick tonight. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not very comfortable sitting in my quarters in my full cloak. I reckoned that would be acceptable with you, taking into account our close acquaintance.

“Oh no, I’m glad you feel comfortable with me. I hope I’m not interrupting one of your free nights then.”

“I rarely have ‘free’ nights. There are other duties to follow. Yet, I invited you and opened the door so obviously no – you’re not interrupting. Apart from that, I have to tell you that you look dreadful. I assume you didn’t catch a wink so you can certainly use a refill of my potion.”

As always the gentleman… “Thank you, Severus.”

“You’re welcome. Come in.”

His quarters were similar to mine, as there were bookshelves on most of the walls and a fireplace. Yet, it was much darker due to the nature of the dungeons. He had a dark-green velvet couch and an old but cosy velvet reading-chair near the fire. A small shelf was on the wall over his desk containing various bottles of potions. I could see another door that presumingly lead to his bedroom. It was quiet spacious. On one side were enchanted windows that showed the outside of the garden upstairs. You could see the thunderstorm raging but it felt so safe and warm down here.

He pointed towards the couch and I took my place while he got some tea. He put it on the antique living room table in front of us and then sat opposite me, handing me the familiar bottle with his sleeping potion.

“Thank you. It’s so warm and cosy here, that’s such a strong contrast to the rest of the dungeons.”

“The Slytherin common room is similar. So far no student had reason to complain. It’s just the classroom and the hallways that are so cold and sinister. We might look unpleasant from the outside but we do care about a certain kind of luxury and comfort in our house.”

“Yes, of course.” I nodded and sipped on my tea.

“So, should we talk about what happened today or would you rather not? I’m not a healer and I personally don’t see the point in rambling to other people. Yet, I know it helps others. In any case, I’m listening.”

“There is not much to talk about though. For wizards, theatre is a gateway to prostitution because people pretend they're someone else. In addition, they kiss and hug on stage and do other ‘shocking’ displays so what good can it be, right? God-forbid it actually teaches anyone to not be a dick in real life. It’s fine.” –I said angrily and sarcasticly, convincing no one with the last statement. “I’m just worried about my students. They shouldn’t be confronted with it so early on..”

Severus replied: “They will be fine. Either they’ll continue and stand up for what they’ve learned or they quit. I can assure you, my colleagues made clear to their houses what their position is. The students can decide for themselves.”

“Maybe, but at this point it feels like their life and reputation is in danger.”

“Then Dumbledore, Remus and I will make sure they are safe and supported.”

It felt nice to hear that though it didn’t help much with my fear. “I appreciate it. I really do.”

Severus sighed and looked me straight in the eyes: “Yet, you are here and have doubts. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying, your hair unkempt and your clothes damp. You can’t sleep, you’re shaking and you are scared. Why are you scared? You knew it would be difficult but you also know you have support. Why would you let some stupid minor thing like this get into your head so easily?”

“You’re right… I know.”

“Then act like it.” - he said sternly.

I nodded and looked to the floor. I knew he was right. Yet, I was shaking. To hear him say those words was being confronted with the truth of my fear, worries and insecurities. Tears filled my eyes and I had to control myself. I didn’t want to end up crying on his couch so I looked down and pretended to be suddenly very interested in my tea.

I heard a deep sigh next to me, followed by a clinking sound of a tea cup put on the table. I didn’t want to look up, I didn’t want him to see me like that. He probably despises my weakness in this situation. One thing happens and I break down. For how many years, am I doing this? Why does it still bother me?

I expected him to leave the room or order me to go out but he did none of these things. Instead, I felt his hand touching mine and holding it tightly. He didn’t say anything. His hand was warm and his fingers softly intertwined mine. We just sat there for a while, holding hands in silence. I calmed down and instead of crying my heart was beating faster of joy. I was blushing but I didn’t care. That act was so kind, so soft, so warm, so comforting. After a while, I felt peaceful and my tiredness came over me. Bravely, I put my head on his shoulder to close my eyes for a bit. I could hear him sigh and moving slightly, contemplating what to do. Slowly, he let go of my hand and put his arm around me instead. He pulled me closer and I put my arm around his waist and my head on his chest. I smelt his perfume and heard his heartbeat. I could feel his muscles underneath the shirt. I felt like sitting in a cloud of warmth, peace and safety. With this, I quickly drifted into sleep. And all that without the help of a potion.

#pro snape #severus snape #harry potter #snape x reader #snape appreciation month #snape x female reader #snape x oc #fanfiction #ao3

[tohellandbackanthology]

My copy of the anthology arrived today, and it is STUNNING! Even before I opened it, it looked so beautiful (the GLOSS!) and was clearly packed with so much care <3 I have only started reading through it, but it is just so high-quality and gorgeous -- the cover, the spine, the printed inside cover pages, the dedication... I love it even though I haven't read it yet. The art perks are also AMAZING. Thank you for all your work to put this together!!

WE ARE DELIGHTED TO HEAR IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D

Thank you so much!!! We tried our best with this book and we're really glad it shows!

#admin: pray4jensen #admin: 60r3d0m #ask #anon #and please guys don't hesitate to share your pics!! #we wanna reblog them here!!! #and see your bookshelves!!!!!! #we have an unhealthy love of bookshelves especially #we're begging

[yoolee]

About Lee

@cavern-of-bells made a FUN LIST OF THINGS so I answered them.

1. What kind of food can’t you stand?:  I fervently avoid all food that squelches – like grapes and ‘gelatinous snow fungus’ (that is a google-translated name for a mushroom in a soup my roomie from China made me once – aside from that ingredient, it was interesting). I’ve never, not once in my life, eaten Jello. 

2. If you could choose one minor inconvenience to never have to deal with again, what would you pick?:  Smoke alarm chirping. I could also happily do without pharmaceutical ads, which I think should be illegal, and election campaign ads.

3. Have you got any useless talents?:  AHAHAHA. I can sing the chipmunk Christmas song and say the alphabet backwards? I’m also hypermobile—did a stint in the local circus as a contortionist in high school. (non-animal circus – just acrobatic acts)

4. If you could be really really good at one thing, what would it be?:  Making people smile.

5. Name a few people you think are extremely good-looking: Mila Kunis, Barbara Palvin, Wendell Lissimore, Chris Evans, Zendaya Coleman, Natalie Portma, Godfrey Gao

6. What was your favorite way to pass the time as a kid?:  READING (/daydreaming about book worlds) but also figure skating while we could still afford it. It was as close to flying as I could get! 

7. What is something you’re proud of?:  When I was in my MBA program, my 59 classmates voted me ‘Most Likely to Change the World’. It’s framed next to my diplomas. Though, to be fair, it also sort of haunts me because I feel like I’m not living up to it. 

8. What’s one character flaw in people that you just can’t tolerate?:  I despise being patronized. Being ignorant and refusing to admit it in the face of facts.

9. Do you consider yourself to be more of a leader or a follower?:  Leader -  not a good one, but, I’m not a follower.

10. What kind of student are/were you?:  A really lazy, procrastinating one who still got A’s/B’s. I was a really good test taker.

11. Butterfly effect question! Has there ever been a seemingly minor decision you’ve made (at the time) that ended up having a profound influence on your life?:  Reading in class in 7th grade science. My teacher made a deal with me – if I could pass the pre-quiz at the start of every week, he’d let me read instead of pay attention, but he would get to pick the book. He introduced me to Michael Crichton and Anne McCaffery, which were my first forays into sci-fi, and my involvement in that has rippled through most of my major friend groups since. Alternately, attending a training at my first career job, which introduced me to the career I now have.

12. Name your most irrational fear/aversion: Ants. I hate ants. Where there’s one, there’s hundreds, and there’s nowhere I can go that they can’t get too, and they’re small enough to crawl in your nose and stuff. I sat in a fire ant hill as a kid, which was strike one. Strike two was moving into a house that had been abandoned for seven months when I was in third grade – turned on the tub water and it came out black there were so many ants in the pipes, and they just POURED into the tub and swarmed up the sides oh god it was like a horror movie. Other than that, most of my fears are pretty average – failure, my family being hurt, etc.

13. Are there any fictional characters you find especially relatable?:  I am self-centered enough to find myself in most characters – there’s usually one or two aspects that line up. Unless they are Lawful Good then I’m like…uuuugh. Nope, nothing there.

14. If you drink, what kind of drunk are you? Alternatively, what sort of person are you at parties?:  I am a giggly, ballet-dancing drunk. I get hyper paranoid about my spatial issues so I literally go into ballet-mode because the movements are naturally slower and more flowy. I am also pretty clingy drunk. I like to snuggle, which is funny because sober me is not big on touching or being touched. Not to overanalyze, but I think being drunk takes away the fear of that. At parties I am that awkward wall-hovering introvert who likes to find an extrovert and make them talk while I nod and wait to GTFO. I spent the entirety of my bro’s wedding reception babysitting a 4 and 5 year old because it was so much less stressful than making small talk (simultaneously playing Go Fish AND Who’s Who Monster Edition LIKE A CHAMP)

15. Do you fall in love easily? Or does it usually take a long time for you to trust someone?:  AHAHAHAHA no. I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever honestly been in love – just more fond of one person than most. Invariably, I find I prefer my own company to theirs after a time.

16. Would you rather have one close friend or 100 casual friends?:  This is a really hard one. 100 casual friends means more people to do stuff with, but, I treasure my close friends. I don’t know. Pass!

17. Do you consider yourself to be more of a slob or a neat-freak?:  I. AM. SUCH. A. SLOB. *sobs* My room should have a hazard sign.

18. Describe a place (imaginary or real) that you would find incredibly cozy: I am not feeling creative – a bedroom that cleans itself, with lots of soft, fuzzy blanket piles and pillows, with tea services (including scones!) and lots of bookshelves. A view of a duck pond would be appreciated too lololol. 

19. Do you have kids? If not, do you want them someday?: I don’t have kids. I truly treasure spending time with the kids in my family, and I work part-time as a princess/elf/storyteller at the local zoo – I like kids, but, I am a really selfish and self-centered person, and I move on to new things—including people—with serious regularity. I don’t think I would be a good parent at all. I wish I could be, but, knowing my flaws, it would be really irresponsible to have kids.

20. What was your favorite book as a child?  Elementary school – it was a book about a little black cat who went to boarding school, and there was a yellow spotted cat with a fire truck. Don’t remember the name. I also love the Wizard of Oz books (SO DARK). As a middle schooler – The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley. I needed a Mary Sue at that point in my life. Also loved the Dragonsinger series by Anne McCaffery, and everything by Mercedes Lackey and Tamora Pierce. In high school…The Things They Carried, I suppose. Now, probably Fuyumi Ono’s Twelve Kingdom’s series. It’s YA, but, the characters are so flawed, and so redeemed, I find it really interesting.

21. Name one thing you just don’t get what all the hype is about: Disney World  

22. Name one thing that you think is tragically underrated: The Emperor’s New Groove is the best Disney movie ever. ALSO, Mary Sues. Middle School me needed Mary Sues. I think most do. Go easy on ‘em.

23. If you had to be glued to a person for a month, real or fictional (who you have never met), who would you choose?: UM. HM. Someone who doesn’t need to shower to smell clean? XD Lady Luck, maybe. It would be fascinating to watch – both good and bad luck – unfold all around.

24. What’s something you’d like the chance to do someday?: This feels super arrogant – but I’d like to be a good enough author to have a book published and do a book signing. With people who actually come to get the book signed!

25. Do you typically speak your mind when you have a controversial opinion? Or do generally prefer to not rock the boat?: I like to work behind the scenes. Usually I write like a multi-page rebuttal with linked references, but I rarely post it. Sometimes I do. I call my senators roughly weekly, for what that’s worth, but public discourse is not my thing.

26. What’s the dumbest fad you’ve been caught up in?: ….uuuum. Hmm. Butterfly clips, maybe? But then, it was the 90s and I was eleven, so. 

27. What’s something you thought was cool as a kid/adolescent, but now cringe at yourself for?:  I DON’T CRINGE AT MYSELF but Dragonball Z. XD I forgive my kid/adolescent self for a lot, okay.

28. What’s a trait you consider to be very admirable?: The willingness to publically, and politely, engage in debate in service of someone else. Genuine ability to interact with other people in a way that leaves them feeling better for having interacted with you.

29. Is there a particular kind of item people always tend to give you as gifts? (For instance, people always get you things with ducks on them because you like ducks, etc.): LITERALLY, DUCKS. I love ducks. People give me ceramic ducks all the time. Also socks, because my grandma collected fancy decorative perfume bottles and one Christmas my mom and I went to like 10 stores looking for one she didn’t have and I pitched a FIT saying when I was older I was going to collect socks because you always need more, and there’s no way people would run out of options for me. My family thought this was hilarious and took me up on it. My grandpa shipped me socks from the dollar store once a month while I was in college.

30. Do you speak multiple languages? Which ones?: I wish I did! I can cuss in quite a few, and I know some conversational Irish from studying abroad there and studying it. 

31. Would you rather live in the big city or the countryside?: Having lived in both – the big city. It’s too easy to self-isolate in the countryside, and for me, personally, that’s fairly unhealthy. Countryside is definitely prettier and more peaceful, just, not for me.

32. Has there ever been something you were certain you’d hate, but ended up loving?: Literally all the time. Like, Mitsunari in SLBP for example!

33. Do you mind being the center of attention, or do you prefer the spotlight to be on someone else?: Ahahahaha give me all of the attention please /sigh

34. Favorite holiday?: Halloweeeeen. But I also really like Diwali even if I feel a little bit like I am trespassing/being a tourist. It’s just beautiful.

35. Are you a more go-with-the-flow type of person, or do you need to have things planned meticulously?: “PLANNED” AHAHAHA WHAT IS THAT WORD IDK. I am so last-minute and haphazard it’s absurd.

36. Is there something you loved so much you wish you could forget it and experience it all over again? (A tv show, book, series–anything.) : The pleasure of reading books in middle school. Those ‘first’ exposures, without expectation or standards. EVERYTHING was magical and exciting, and I devoured it all. Alternately, college. 

37. What hobbies do you have?: UM. I dress up as a princess/superhero and visit kids in the hospital which is…weird, I know. I get paid to do it at the zoo, and some parents reached out to them and asked if we could visit and then it became a thing. Less so now that I’m in a new city. Martial arts (Hapkido, Judo, Taekwondo), ballet, baking with zucchini, photoshopping, reading, writing SLBP fanfiction, playing otome games…XD

38. If you could have a superpower, but it was only mildly useful, what ability would you want to have?: THE ABILITY TO FEEL WELL-RESTED AT ANY TIME. Or good luck, but I’d argue that would be more than mildly useful. Ability to find the right thing to say to cheer someone up!

39. Something people are always surprised to learn about you: Online folks are usually surprised to learn I’m old? Friends IRL are usually surprised I’m Chaotic Evil (I won’t say I’m two-faced, I’ll say I try really hard to be nice, and I act like it well, but it is an act – I don’t genuinely possess any empathy to speak of. I will listen to you, but I probably don’t actually care, I just want to – there is a difference) and work folks are usually pretty surprised at the Chemistry background. FOLLOWERS OF THIS BLOG won’t be surprised but, I friggen love Waffle House. That usually throws people for al oop.

40. Something that took you way too long to figure out: That I’m bi? I was on BC for so long I thought I was ace, so when I finally developed a drive in my late/mid-twenties it was sort of shocking to realize it’s only rarely set to hetero, and like, I still don’t know how to act on that. ALSO for years I had no idea there was a little arrow on your gas gauge to tell you which side the gas pump’s on – comes in super handy in rental cars.

41. Worst injury you’ve had? Physically? Fell out of a tree as a kid and snapped an arm bone in half – one half went on top of the other. Other things have happened that took longer to emotionally recover, but, physically that was the worst probably. Weirdly, I fell off of the roof with no injury, but…idk I’m weirdly durable.

42. Any morbid fascinations?: Snake venom. I could probably write a dissertation. 

43. Describe your sense of humor: I LOVE PUNS. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. I like ‘smart’ humor (puns are clever) and nerdy humor, but I don’t like mean humor. I also laugh at gallows humor a lot.

44. If you had to be born in another era/place, which would you choose?: Okay this is really hard because I would be useless in most other eras and I would miss indoor plumbing and women’s rights and people not regularly dying around me. I am probably biased by being interested in times with the best myths/stories. Ancient Egypt? Viking Age? Basically any time period in China or Japan because my US-centric world history studies seriously failed me they are a bit of a fascinating mystery. 

45. Something you are irredeemably bad at: LOL this would be a long list. (you said ‘thing’ singular, I am taking that as a friendly suggestion not a mandate) Push-ups (hypermobile elbows, okay). Cleaning. LOGISTICS AND PLANNING OH LORD. Editing my own work. SMALL TALK oh god I am the worst at small talk I even took a class on it trying to get better. Gracefully accepting compliments - how does one do that and not come off as obnoxious ;.;

46. Something that sucked but you’re glad you went through: Most recently, dumping a Really Good Guy. A past me would have just quietly let it fade into oblivion and that would have been worse. I think? 

47. Would you rather have a really godawful ugly tattoo in a place that is only slightly inconvenient to conceal with clothing (upper arm, thigh, etc.), or the coolest, most beautiful tattoo ever in the middle of your face? (Neither tattoo can be removed or concealed with makeup, and the ugly tattoo will deeply offend anyone who sees it.): lololol oh my gosh. I don’t like offending people. So. I guess pretty one on my face.

48. Are you more of an optimist or a pessimist?: Eeeeeeh.I guess optimist, but that’s mostly laziness.

49. What would be the most flattering compliment someone could give you?: That I have made their life better or brighter somehow. 

50. Something you feel people often misunderstand about you: I am simultaneously incredibly confident about things and incredibly craven about people! And that’s hard for people to get sometimes. Like, my writing I am wholly confident of and proud of to the point of arrogance – as a thing. But the moment someone talks to me about it I get petrified because oh god what if I, as a person say or do something that turns them off to the point where they can’t enjoy the writing (the thing).  It’s greatly exacerbated by the internet where I can’t read tone or facial expressions – but I’m still pretty bad about this offline too. Like, I hate even going to Chipotle or Qdoba where there isn’t a big line of people (if there’s a big line of people everything is hustling and bustling and moving along) – I greatly dislike social interactions that lack a script. But, put my project in front of a board of directors or the company president, and I will kick tush and take names. It’s a weird dichotomy, but that’s how I’m wired.

THIS WAS FUN. GOOD QUESTIONS

I TAG YOU, PERSON READING THIS.

#about yoolee

[butchstolemysweetroll]

Tagged by @saxrohmerwon ages ago on my brief other blog and just noticed it, thanks bruh ily <3

Rules:  Always post the rules, answer the questions given to you, then write 10 questions of your own, and tag some friends!

1. Favorite city (or town/small island/et cetera) in the world and why?

I guess it’d be Avalon. I basically spent every summer of my life there with family and it’s really small (only seven miles long) so you wind up going to the same few ice cream places or antique stores or pizza shops all the time but you never really get bored of it. The whole place has a quiet, old-timey shore town nostalgia to it too that’s super sweet. And like some of my all time favorite memories were staying on the beach until sunset when the lifeguards were gone so we could swim wherever we wanted, or climbing on the outfall pipe and walking to see how far out I was brave enough to go (it got “higher” ((read: the sand started to disappear)) the further out over the water you went), or walking on the beach at night. That was my favorite part, the nighttime. It’s weird how quiet but how alive everything got after dark, and I could hunt for ghost crabs or watch fireworks and the lights from town on the water, and the sand never bothered me as much when it was cool from the dark.

2. Describe your favorite scent/s.

Autumn, if that counts as a smell. But the combined scent of really brisk air and smoky burning leaves and fresh damp ones and hay and I guess plant life generally decaying, but in a sweet way? I also like flower smells obviously, and food smells, but those are boring to talk about. Gasoline, the specific kind of fake (cotton) paper money is printed on. Coffee. I’ve learned to kind of like the smell of cigarettes on clothes, because my boyfriend smokes and I like waking up in the sweater I wore the night before with that smell still on it. People have smells too. Like my mom smells like perfume even when she isn’t wearing any, and it’s nice. And babies smell rad and trigger ALL of my maternal impulses (cannot wait to reproduce, it’s gonna be gr8). And the boy smells really nice... Not even in like a what-deodorant-are-you-wearing kind of way but like skin and sweat and waking up warm in a cold house on Wednesday mornings. And when he comes home from work smelling like fresh cut grass and wet dirt it’s v nice.

3. Who is/was your favorite teacher and why?

My Romantic Lit professor currently, because he teaches exactly what I want to teach and I have a career crush on him. He’s also just super excitable and enthusiastic (let’s talk about that WEIRD weekend in Geneva the Shelleys took guys! Blake was an EDGELORD!) which I love.

I also had a professor at my old school who was super cool and helped me through a lot of shit? I took her personal essay class right as I was sort of in recovery for depression following a terrible, low key emotionally unhealthy (abusive? I still don’t know if I can use that word? Either way, OVER-SHARING YAY) romantic relationship and I explored that and a lot of other stuff pertaining to my childhood and relationships and discovering my queerness in my work for her class, and she was super supportive and involved in helping me experiment with new formats and really use writing as a therapeutic tool and it helped me heal a lot. She was also just a super cool lady (lots of tattoos and wispy blonde hair and a quiet voice, kind of a hipster fairy) who hung out with me at a local music festival in town when I was like fresh out of the hospital and having trouble being around my normal friends. She just always made sure her door was open and went out of her way to make me feel better, and to this day I appreciate that.

4. What is your favorite poem?  (Substitute with “song” if you don’t have a favorite poem.)

Oh my GOD, don’t make me choose. I’m obsessed with the Romantics and a few contemporaries have my heart, but I guess I’d have to say “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. It’s just beautiful and hopeful and simple enough that tiny me could fall in love with it and appreciate it almost in its fullness when I was too young to grasp other works.

5. Weirdest thing you’ve ever heard out-of-context?

Ever? I don’t tend to remember stuff like that for a long time unless I’d like hypothetically overheard a murder or something, but last night some girl was walking back from our student center with her friends and angrily shouted that she wanted to “put her dong through a snare drum” which made me laugh.

6. Best concert experience?  (If you have never been to a concert, what do you hope your first concert will be?)

Still gotta say Green Day after just turning 15 years old. I’d never been to a concert before and they were my favorite band at the time. I was so proud to be there because I had 0 dollars to my name and no one would hire me because I was underage, so I had to earn every penny for those tickets doing gross menial work like removing and scrubbing window frames that hadn’t seen soap in maybe a decade (SO MANY SPIDERS), and teeny bopper me thought that was 'punk.’ And at one point Billie Joe Armstrong, who my pathetic little emo self wanted to MARRY told the audience he was proud of everyone who’d worked their ass off to afford to come see them play and I remember turning to my dad and screaming “HE MEANS ME!” It was so wholesome.

7. Favorite holiday (or other special occasion) and why?

Christmas! My house was THE Christmas house growing up. My parents put so much effort into it and it was the cutest thing. Besides the outrageous amount of decorations and the amazing food that takes all week to make and the cute tradition of having my grandparents spend the night to watch us open presents first thing in the morning, the best part of Christmas growing up was definitely the effort my family put into making us kids believe Santa was real for way longer than necessary. One year my uncle got a flashlight and a red solo up and climbed trees in our yard so we’d see “Rudolph’s nose” if we looked out the window. We put out reindeer food every year. My dad would stomp around shaking jingle bells and someone always climbed on the roof making noise, and my mom knew calligraphy, so she’d write us scrolls from Santa on legit parchment and toast it in the oven so it would curl. One year we had an old, old family friend who was a Santa impersonator show up with a legit sleigh and a giant book with all the family member’s names and the years they were naughty and nice in it and stories about why and it was so cute. So whereas most kids found out around like 8 my parents went to extreme lengths so that I believed it until I was like 11 and honestly, I’m really glad they did, because it was a kick ass childhood. I definitely want to be that level of extra when I become a parent.

8. Did you ever play an instrument growing up?  If so, how did it go for you?

Guitar, bass, after I learned guitar I could play pretty much anything pluckable with strings, so I had a Romanian lap harp (I was such a cool kid) and I would sometimes play my sister’s viola (often incorrectly and like a guitar, but it was fun to sample when I recorded stuff). I haven’t sang or touched an instrument in like seven years though. I kind of gave up after sad life stuff happened but I want to pick it back up again. I really miss music.

9. If you were given $100 today, what would you do with the money?

Use it toward Christmas presents for loved ones. Since I’m basically not allowed out of the house after I go home for break I have to do Christmas early with the friends and boyfriend.

10. What’s the scariest movie you have ever seen?  (Define scary however you like.)

I love scary movies so this is hard, but I guess anything in which children are genuinely evil? Like not even in a supernatural way; it’s not horror but watching We Need To Talk About Kevin fucked me up. I guess being a mom is like so much something that I want, and imagining that happening would def keep me up at night. Especially because I would not know what to do.

Now, for questions:

1. What’s your favorite article of clothing?

Dresses but also plain black leggings. And I have very soft sweatpants that fit just right.

2. Do you still sleep with a stuffed animal?

Nope. I can’t sleep with the live one either lol, Bynx likes to sleep RIGHT where I want to roll over and screams and puts his paws in my mouth when he wants attention.

3. Do you believe in heaven? Hell?

Both, Catholic.

4. Do you listen to podcasts? What are your favorite ones?

Not really, but I’d like to, in theory. It just seems like more effort somehow than watching TV and I am always tired.

5. What was your go-to game during recess?

Four square.

6. Where do you see yourself in the next ten years– not in a job interview kind of way, but actually?

Awwww this is cute to think about. I guess I’d like to be living in like a really woodland but not isolating place, somewhere where my house can be on a lake or by woods or mountains but if I drive ten minutes there’s a cozy-sized town with all I need. Maybe in like Virginia or Vermont. I’m a professor of Gothic Literature at the local college, and my students are engaged and inspiring and call me by my first name. I’m in a pretty and not-too-big house, but it’s warm and smells like our fireplace. I’m married to my lovely guy, and both our jobs are flexible enough that we can have dinner as a family and spend time with our brood of kids. And they pay well enough that we might not be wealthy but we never have to worry. The cat’s still with us and we’ve got a dog, too. We go on camping trips and The Lumberjack teaches the kids how to build fires and tie knots and dad stuff like that. One of the kids at least loves reading and the house is full of books - I’ve got a home office full of bookshelves and a reading nook. We’ve got a porch where we can bundle up and drink wine in the evening after the kids are in bed. We’re not rich but not poor, and our families get along and come to visit. My parents still ask us over for Christmas every year. Wherever I teach, my kids can go there for free.

7. Do you have a favorite visual artist? Who are they?

Oh lord, I don’t know. I mean I like art but I hate the process of liking art. It’s so much more involved than “I like how this piece makes me feel” and I don’t enjoy that. I like individual pieces and I don’t know enough about art to really speak on it.

I guess, though, I like Dali and Khalo as people. They seem unpretentious and fun. Which is surprising because I guess the way their work is talked about you’d think the opposite.

8. Do you really like a food that most people think is disgusting? Or, do you like a popular food to a disgusting degree?

Not really but like I put too much hot sauce / jalapenos on everything and it disgusts people. And I put way too much sugar in coffee, and creamer too.

9. What music did your parents play in the house/car?

My mom is a New Wave junkie like me and my dad had more complicated taste. He was never big into music, so he only really likes a few artists for their voices and some songs for nostalgia. So we listened to a lot of oldies and swing and Judy Garland, but he also loved Blondie and Boston.

10. What would you tell your 15-year-old self?

I’d tell her she’s a lot stronger than she’s going to think she is one day and to tough it out. That people love her and will love her. That when you get older, family is hard, but it’s worth it to work on things. That she’s smarter than she thinks she is and should try harder in school, because when she finally does have faith in herself, it’ll pay off. 

Tagging whoever else wants to do this - it’s cold and rainy (here at least) and we could all use a day of warm socks and procrastinating with asks, honestly.