(no subject)

So, I'm going back to work on Monday. It'll be part-time, at least for now, so we can stagger shifts, and the building will be closed to the public until Phase 4. I also have my own office, so I'm not particularly worried from a contagion standpoint; it's probably safer than grocery shopping at this point.

On the one hand, I'm really suspicious of the timeline of the reopening--cases are still climbing in my county--but on the other hand, holy shit am I ready to go back to work. Or, more accurately, to be able to work somewhere other than a laptop at my kitchen table. I've learned two things about myself in the past three months: (1) I really do not do well without any externally imposed routine and (2) my decision not to be a SAHM was a really fucking solid one.

(I will have to keep doing the bulk of the homeschooling, since my spouse is still working and I'm just going back in the evenings for now, but at least the school year will be over in about 2 weeks. But even just four hours a day out of the house and able to work without being climbed on will make my life easier.)

stand me up at the gates of hell

Fandom: Stranger Things
Relationships: Billy & Max; Billy & Steve; weird, ambiguous, possibly one-sided Billy/Steve
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, suicidal thoughts
Other tags: Hurt/comfort, Canon-divergent AU, Painful early-redemption narratives
Length: 4300 words
Summary:
Home, he thinks, and tongues at the loose molar in the back of his mouth. That wasn’t the monster’s doing, or his dad’s. That one was all Steve Harrington, delivering a long-overdue ass-kicking via Cadillac convertible. There’s something kinda poetic about it, really.

Or: Billy lives. That's really just the start of his problems.

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