#//patrick took notice of the way i put 2 spaces between all my sentences

[troublcmakcrs]

//thinks about the rpc's different accessibility needs and how we are all so cute and interesting 😊

[unfolded73]

Husbands: Two Years In (5/5) - schitt’s creek ff

Here it is, the final chapter!  There's nothing I can say that can get across how touched I've been by the comments on this fic. The number of people who have shared things about their own struggles with mental health -- I'm not worthy of it. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

While I'm including this fic as part of the "Labels" series, the preceding fics are not required reading. Previous fics in this series: Boyfriends; “I Love You”, Partners, Fiancés

Warning: This fic deals with depression as one of its major topics.

Rated Explicit, this chapter 4718 words. (ao3)

Thanks to @high-seas-swan for cheerleading and B13_MaybeThisTime for many valuable comments (and also cheerleading).

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5: Winter

“So how was your week?” Jessica asked.

Patrick always felt like he should plan before therapy what he was going to talk about, but he never remembered to do that.

“It was a little crazy. The holidays at the store always are, although it’s very lucrative. The money we make in December will carry us through at least half of the upcoming year,” he said, pinching the webbing on one hand between his thumb and forefinger of the other.

“And did you feel more equipped to handle that? The busy store, and all your responsibilities around that? Especially with Christmas a few days away?”

Patrick shrugged, feeling obstinate. “I don’t know.”

Jessica let a silence settle, waiting for him to talk. Patrick hated this part; it made him feel like he was failing at therapy when he didn’t know how to fill that silence. What the right answer was. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the sofa cushions, calling her bluff.

Finally, she relented and spoke, and Patrick felt like he’d won a round of whatever game they were playing. “You’ve never said much in here about your sexual orientation other than to talk about your husband and to say that things with your family are good. Was it always that way?”

Patrick tried not to roll his eyes. He knew this would be coming eventually. He’d been avoiding the subject of Rachel or his coming out process because he knew it would be something Jessica would fixate on. “I’m not depressed because of being gay, or… or anything to do with that. I love being gay.”

She smiled genuinely. “I’m glad. But humor me.”

“My parents always accepted me,” he said quickly, but that felt like a lie even though it was technically true.

“How old were you when you came out?” Jessica asked.

Patrick let out a frustrated sigh, seeing no way to avoid the truth now. “I was… I was in denial about being gay for a long time.” Might as well get it all out, he thought. “When I was twenty-nine I broke off an engagement to my high school sweetheart — who was a woman — and moved away from my hometown. Pretty soon after that, I realized I was gay.”

“That must’ve been hard,” Jessica said.

“Yeah, but once I got through it and… and got together with David, I’d never been happier.”

He couldn’t help but see the smile she gave him in response to that as patronizing. “New love can flood the body with so many good chemicals that it swamps out all of the bad ones.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying I wasn’t happy?”

“No, I’m saying that the way you’ve framed things in some of our past sessions — that you were depressed before you moved here, and then you weren’t, and now for some reason you’re depressed again… that may not be the right way to frame it. Do you think perhaps it puts a lot of pressure on David as the source of your happiness?”

“I don’t put pressure on David,” Patrick protested.

“Is it possible that you put pressure on yourself, then? When it comes to your relationship with David and its importance in your life?” Jessica asked.

Patrick huffed and didn’t answer. Now she was contradicting herself from one sentence to the next.

“When did you come out to your family?” she asked.

“That isn’t why I’m depressed either,” he said.

Jessica sighed like he was finally challenging her constant state of serene acceptance. “Untangling the web of depression isn’t straightforward. It might be helpful to pull on different threads and see what they’re connected to. Okay?”

Patrick supposed that made sense. “Okay.” Then after another pause, he admitted, “It took me a while to come out to my parents.”

“Why is that?”

He stared at Jessica’s bookshelf for several seconds, his eyes running over the titles without reading them. “I worried that my parents wouldn’t be okay with it. They didn’t talk about gay people when I was a kid, really. Or when they did, they made it sound like a sad thing that we needed to tolerate because it wasn’t a choice. You know, that brand of ‘tolerance’ that is just that and nothing more.”

She shot him a sympathetic look. “It’s understandable why you were hesitant to come out to them.”

“But they were great about it. It wasn’t long after coming out to them that I asked David to marry me, and they were great. They love him, and all my worries were unfounded,” he said, trying to figure out why tears were threatening to spill over.

Jessica took a few seconds to rearrange herself, setting her ever-present portfolio aside and leaning forward on with her elbows on her knees. “I understand that, looked at a certain way, you’ve had a purely positive experience with coming into your sexuality. You had David, who from what you’ve said before is a very loving person. And based on what you’ve told me, you live in an accepting community. And then your parents stepped up and were there for you when you asked them to be. That’s all wonderful, and not to be discounted. But it doesn’t change the fact that for all of your formative years, when maybe on some subconscious level you did know that you were gay, or at least different in some fundamental way, you didn’t feel like your parents or the community you were living in would accept you. That kind of experience leaves a mark, even though everything turned out fine.”

She smirked, leaning backwards again. “Or not. Perhaps your serotonin is low due to simple physiology and I’m completely off the mark.”

Patrick felt strangely reassured by this honesty, this admission that she knew that she didn’t know everything. “So I need medication, then?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Medication might help. Or cognitive behavior therapy could help you. Or both together.”

His reassurance quickly dissolved, leaving Patrick wanting to scream at his therapist, fix me, goddammit! Instead he said, “That all sounds very nebulous.”

She grinned. “From what I know about you so far, I bet that’s driving you crazy, and I’m sorry about that. Can you bear with me for a little while, though? Work through the process?”

He sighed. “I’ll try.”

~*~

Patrick drove past the empty storefront on Elmdale’s main street as he was leaving his therapy appointment. He’d noticed every week that the ‘for lease’ sign was still in the window. After the second time he saw it, he’d texted Ray to ask if that was the space he’d mentioned to David. David hadn’t said anything about the second Rose Apothecary location in a while, but it didn’t take a genius to guess that he was still thinking about it, and probably wondering when Patrick would be ready to seriously entertain the idea again.

On impulse, he pulled into one of the parking spaces that lined the street and got out of the car, walking over to the empty storefront. The windows were covered in paper, but he could see enough through the gaps to make out that it had a scuffed up hardwood floor. It would need to be refinished, he thought, but it looked like it was in pretty good shape.

The smell of coffee attracted Patrick’s attention, and he looked over to see that there was a coffee shop next door. Grind House, the sign that hung under the awning said. Curious, Patrick went over and opened the door.

The barista looked up and waved. It being around two in the afternoon on a weekday, the place was mostly empty other than two people at a table in the corner who were huddled over laptop computers. The shop was decorated tastefully for Christmas, and he thought David would approve of the warmth and coziness of the space.

“Hey, what can I get you?” the barista — Taylor, her name tag read — asked him with a smile. Tattoos snaked out from under the sleeves of her t-shirt, black ink against dark brown skin.

“A small earl grey tea?” he asked.

“Sure thing. Is that it? We’ve got a few pastries left.”

His eyes strayed over to the pastry case. “Yeah, could I get a couple of those butter tarts to go? My husband is a real connoisseur.”

Taylor grinned at him. “Smart man.”

“Hey, what do you know about the empty space next door? Do you know if there’s been any interest in it?”

“Oh man, I’m still bummed about that. It used to be a comic book shop. I was afraid to go in there for the longest time — comic stores aren’t necessarily the most welcoming places to black queer women, you know? But the old guy that ran it was super nice. I remember he made a point of telling me when Ta-Nahisi Coates started writing Captain America.”

“What happened to the store?”

She shrugged. “Amazon drove him out of business, I guess. That’ll be $9.25,” she said ringing up his tea and butter tarts. As Patrick put his debit card in the reader, she added, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh.” He scratched his cheek. “My husband and I run a store in Schitt’s Creek. Rose Apothecary?”

“Holy shit, really? A friend gave me some of your lotion for my birthday. It’s great.”

Patrick swelled with pride. “Thanks. Anyway, we’re considering opening a second location in Elmdale.”

Taylor smirked, handing him his tea and a box with the tarts. “Sorry, I can’t allow you to have a store right next door to my coffee shop. I’ll spend all my profits there.”

Laughing, Patrick accepted his purchases. “Oh, well. Guess we’ll have to look for another place, then. Although David would return the favor, I’m sure.”

“What’s your name?” Taylor asked.

“It’s Patrick Brewer,” he said, setting the tea down again to shake her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Patrick. I’m Taylor. And I hope you guys get the space.”

“I… do too,” he said, surprised to find that he meant it.

The store was bustling when he got back to Schitt’s Creek, and David and Bethany were both busy with customers. Patrick put the box of butter tarts in the back room and went to work restocking Christmas decorations. Given how many decorations they sold every holiday season, Patrick had to assume that by now every Christmas tree in Elm County was fully outfitted in David Rose’s aesthetic.

As soon as David finished with the customers he was helping, Patrick went over and put a hand on his shoulder. “I got you something for your afternoon break,” he said. “There’s a white box on the table in the back.”

David’s eyes lit up, and he hurried into the back before he could be waylaid by another harried holiday shopper.

They didn’t have a chance to exchange any more conversation until Bethany finally flipped the sign on the door to Closed and locked up. Patrick felt dead on his feet, but he had to admit that the thought of all the money in the cash register made him feel pretty good. Bethany went to work cleaning the windows while David leaned against the center table.

“Oh my god, Patrick, where did you get those butter tarts? Those are the best ones I’ve had in years.”

Patrick walked over and put his arms around his husband, pulling him into a hug. “A little coffee shop in downtown Elmdale that happens to be next to an empty store that I believe Ray mentioned to you a couple of months ago.”

David pulled out of the hug, his eyes darting back and forth as he studied Patrick’s expression. “It’s still vacant?”

Nodding, Patrick leaned up and kissed David’s cheek. “We should call Ray after Christmas and go take a look at it.”

“Are you sure?”

Patrick shrugged. “No, I’m scared as hell. Among other things, I’m afraid I’m going to miss having days like this with you, working together in our store. But I want to go look.”

David kissed his lips gently. “Okay.”

~*~

Stevie stood shivering on their back porch, bundled up in her hat and puffy parka. “It’s way too cold for this,” she said.

Patrick exhaled pot smoke in a crystalline cloud of breath and handled the joint back to her. “Our families are getting here tomorrow and I don’t want the house to smell like weed.” He giggled. “It doesn’t match David’s holiday aesthetic.”

His phone chimed, and he took it out to look at it, expecting a complaint from David. Instead the text was from his cousin. There were no words, just a picture of Justin pressed cheek to cheek with another boy.

Patrick: Who’s this?

Justin 🌈: his name is Jonah

Patrick: Very cute. And closer to your age, I hope?

Justin 🌈: 🙄 you sound like my mom he’s 18

Patrick: Good. Merry Christmas, Justin.

Justin 🌈: thanks you too

Then a text arrived from David, just as Patrick expected. She’s got even more luggage than last year.

Patrick laughed. Maybe it’s a lot of presents for you, he texted back.

David: You give my sister entirely too much credit.

Patrick: See you soon.

“Why are you suddenly so fucking popular?” Stevie groused, her teeth chattering, handing him the joint back as he put away his phone.

“Sounds like Alexis’s flight got in on time,” he said. “And my cousin Justin has a new… boyfriend, I guess?” He took another hit.

“I can’t stand this anymore; I’m going inside,” Stevie said, taking the half-smoked joint from him and carefully extinguishing it, then putting it in a crumpled sandwich bag that she produced from her coat pocket. Patrick followed her back into the house. “Is this the cousin that you rescued a while ago?”

“How many gay cousins do you think I have?” he asked, pulling his coat off.

“I mean, statistically? Given how many cousins you have? More than one.” She flopped down on the sofa and stretched out on her back. “So are you liking your therapist any better?”

Patrick dropped into the overstuffed chair across from her. “I don’t know. As I predicted, she’s starting to fixate on my sexual orientation and…” He gestured airily in a very David way. “All that.”

Stevie turned her head and regarded him balefully. “The fact that you were in denial about being gay until you were thirty? And didn’t come out to your parents until you were ready to ask David to marry you? Is that what ‘all that’ is?”

“Fuck off,” Patrick grumbled.

“I’m just saying, there’s probably some stuff to unpack there.”

“Stevie, I’m completely comfortable with being gay,” he said.

“Didn’t say you weren’t. It’s not about you being gay, but maybe it’s about how you get so wrapped up in your obligations to other people that you lose track of yourself. Or that you’re so obsessed with not disappointing the people you care about that you have a hard time being truthful about who you are or what you need.”

Patrick blinked. “Wow. Maybe you should be my therapist.”

Stevie laughed. “The problem is, I need to be high to have these deep insights.”

They settled into comfortable silence for a few minutes. Finally Patrick admitted, “I don’t like the way it makes me feel cracked open.”

“What does?” Stevie asked, her mind clearly having wandered.

“Therapy.”

“Oh. Yeah, I don’t think I could deal with that either,” Stevie said.

“It’s like… you know how if you pick up a big rock in moist soil, there’ll be all these bugs underneath it?”

“Ew,” Stevie said in a perfect imitation of David, and the two of them burst into gales of laughter for a while. When Stevie finally got control of herself, she said, “Sorry, what about the bugs?”

He wiped away tears from his cheeks. “It was a metaphor for my brain. I’ve got a lifetime of practice not moving those rocks. I don’t know if I want to know what’s underneath them.”

“Yeah, I get that.” She stretched her toes out, brushing them against the arm of the sofa. “You know you’ll be okay though, right?”

Patrick felt a swell of love for Stevie and he would have hugged her, but it would probably be weird. Also he was comfortable in his chair. Maybe he’d hug her later.

When David arrived from retrieving Alexis at the airport, Patrick put his coat back on to help with the luggage. David opened a bottle of wine and turned the lamps in the living room off, leaving only the light from the Christmas tree to illuminate the four of them as they settled in to talk.

They told Alexis about the new location in Elmdale that they were considering leasing, and she made some marketing suggestions that were good enough that David went and retrieved his journal from the bedroom so that he could make some notes.

“One thing I’ve seen businesses do to get market penetration is sponsor relevant conferences,” Alexis said. “Like, professional association meetings. Then they get their business name and logo printed on everything for the conference — tote bags, lanyards, USB sticks, all that stuff.” Her free hand that wasn’t holding her wine glass flopped around to indicate all of the stuff.

“We don’t really have general store conferences,” Patrick said, bemused.

Alexis rolled her eyes. “But it works for other events too. Summer festivals, parades, whatever.”

“Elm Valley has a pumpkin festival every year,” Stevie said.

Patrick was starting to have a germ of an idea related to what Alexis had said. He sipped his wine and filed it away to mull over later, when he was sober.

Tomorrow, Johnny and Moira and his own parents would arrive and things would take a turn for the chaotic, but for right now, Patrick could enjoy the warmth of David’s hand on his shoulder as his husband bantered happily with his sister and his best friend. Leaning into the crook of David’s arm, Patrick smiled and tried to soak up all of the love in the room, an inoculation against the darkness that might lurk around the next bend in the road.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” David murmured against his spine later in their bed. Their kisses had been drowsy and a little bit drunk as they decided that sex was happening tonight in spite of their houseguests. Alexis was in the guest bedroom and Stevie had zonked out on the living room sofa, David tucking an afghan around her shoulders before he and Patrick went to bed themselves.

“It’s not Christmas yet,” Patrick said with a chuckle, writhing, pressed against the sheets as David worked him up and up.

“I know it’s not technically Christmas, but tonight was so nice,” David murmured into Patrick’s shoulder, words alternating with kisses. “It filled me with holiday spirit.”

Patrick tried not to laugh, he really did, but it was a losing battle. He made an attempt to smother his giggles into his pillow.

“If you say something about me filling you with the holiday spirit, it’s over between us.” The things he was doing to Patrick with his fingers belied that statement.

Laughing again, Patrick pushed his hips back against David’s hand, and then his laughter turned into a moan, and then neither of them said anything coherent for a long time.

~*~

The first town council meeting of the new year came on a grey January afternoon, the threat of snow on the horizon. Everyone was subdued and low energy, even Roland, and Patrick felt drowsy, struggling a little bit to pay attention and type at the same time that they discussed several budgetary issues. A lot of the topics were the same every meeting, with tiny, incremental changes almost too small to detect. Or worse, they were recurring issues that indicated no progress had been made at all.

When they got to the bottom of the agenda, Ronnie asked if there was any new business, and Patrick almost didn’t say anything. The idea that had occurred to him during the holidays had seemed strong on a happier day. Today, he wasn’t sure he had the energy to argue for it. But then he thought about the things Ronnie had said to him about queer activism, and he thought about Taylor and her coffee shop, and he opened his mouth.

“Have we ever considered having something in Schitt’s Creek for Pride?” he asked.

Ronnie raised her eyebrows. “What, like a parade?”

“No offense, but it might be kind of a sad little parade,” Roland said.

“No, not a parade. Like, a street festival. Tents with food and other vendors and LGBT educational booths. Opportunities for people to find out about meetings in the area. Maybe a stage with speeches and musical performances. And we don’t have to limit it to only Schitt’s Creek. I looked into it a little, and even Elmdale doesn’t have anything like it. We could draw vendors and patrons from all over Elm County.”

Ronnie crossed her arms. “Sounds like a way to line your own pockets. I assume Rose Apothecary would be one of the vendors?”

Patrick met her gaze. “I’m sure the rest of council could be counted on to keep us on a level playing field with everyone else. Come on, Ronnie. Can you honestly say it wouldn’t be a good thing for the community? And a good way to bring money into the town?”

She tilted her head in acquiescence. “Put together a formal proposal and we can vote on it at the next meeting.”

“I’m going to vote ‘yes,’” Bob stage-whispered to Patrick.

“Thanks, Bob.”

After the meeting had adjourned, Patrick went over to Ronnie. “I thought later this month I’d go to that Thornbridge LGBTQIA+ meeting you told me about. See what they’re doing and make some connections. Ask if they’d be interested in helping out with our Pride festival.”

Ronnie stared at him for a second. “Your festival idea hasn’t been approved yet,” she said.

“Assuming it’s approved,” he said, unable to keep himself from grinning. “Would you like to go with me?”

“You want me to spend hours in a car with you, driving to Thornbridge. Really.”

“Come on, Ronnie. Someday you and I are going to have to bury the hatchet for good.” He put on his most guileless expression, the one that caused David to accuse him of weaponizing his eyes. “Why not in service to the queer community, of which we are both pillars?”

She almost, for a split second, looked like she was going to crack a smile. Instead she sighed. “Fine. Let me know when it is. I’ll see if I’m available.”

~*~

They celebrated signing the lease for the new store with pizza at David’s favorite spot in Elmdale. There were paper hearts colored by children in the front window, and it reminded Patrick that he only had a few days to find a suitably tacky gift for David for Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t worth it if he couldn’t get David to threaten to divorce him on this, David’s most hated of holidays.

While they waited for their pizza, Patrick reached across the red and white checkered tablecloth and took David’s hand. “Thank you,” he said.

David had been fiddling with his phone, but at the sound of Patrick’s voice, he set it face-down on the table and gave Patrick his full attention. “What for?”

“For being there for me so many times this past year. For… for putting up with me at my worst.”

A crooked smile threatened to erupt on David’s face. “Patrick, you know your worst is still pretty good, right?”

“I hope you’re not still grading me on a Sebastien Raine curve, David.”

David rolled his eyes at that. “No, I’m just saying that maybe you don’t have the most objective perspective on what being married to you is like.” His eyes softened. “I’m as happy being your husband today as I was the first day. Okay?”

Patrick swallowed around a surprising lump in his throat. “Okay.”

“You’re nervous about the new store,” David surmised.

“I am, but it’s the right decision,” Patrick said with confidence.

“I’m nervous too,” David said. “Don’t mistake my outward confidence for anything other than a thin veneer over all of my anxieties.”

That statement automatically put Patrick into reassurance mode. “The marketing ideas from Alexis are going to be helpful. The customer base in Elmdale is huge and has more disposable income compared to what we’re used to at home. I’ve run some numbers, and I think the revenue from this location may outstrip our Schitt’s Creek location in a matter of months.”

David grimaced. “Well, that somehow makes me feel irrationally protective of our first store. It doesn’t deserve to be the under-achiever.”

Squeezing David’s hand, Patrick said, “Never. I fell in love with you there, and there’s nowhere in the world more important to me than that store.”

“We can make new memories at the new store,” David said softly.

Patrick knew, realistically, that he and David probably wouldn’t be spending that much time together at the new store after they got it open. They’d have to split time between the two locations, and there would be even more work to do out on the road, expanding their vendor base to support the increased demand.

David seemed to read his thoughts. “And when we spend our days apart, it will make being at home together in the evenings that much more precious.”

“Yeah,” Patrick managed to say, his voice raw. He averted his eyes from David’s piercing gaze, staring out the window between the gaps in the paper hearts. “Can you… can you talk to me more about that?”

David smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Well, imagine a day when I’m at the store here in Elmdale, and you’re at the store back at home.”

“Are you at the one in Elmdale because of Taylor’s pastries?”

“Shhh,” David said, reaching out with a finger like he was going to put it over Patrick’s lips. “I leave the store a little early, letting one of our trusted employees close up, and I bring home some wine and cheese from the store. Maybe some of Heather’s new triple cream.” He closed his eyes like he was having an erotic fantasy about Heather Warner’s cheese.

“Wine and cheese that you pay for,” Patrick said.

“Naturally. Oh, and fresh berries. It’s summer, and there are berries in season. So I set everything up on the kitchen table, just in time for you to arrive home from the other store. And we drink wine and eat cheese and we tell each other all about our days. The sun is setting, and the light is all golden,” David said.

“I like this story,” Patrick replied. “Then what happens?”

“Eventually we move to the sofa. Maybe watch some TV or listen to some music. We put our feet up and finish our wine and you remember something funny that you saw on the internet and you tell me about it. And then when we get tired, we go to bed.”

“What happens then?” Patrick asked as their server set their pizza in front of them and David grabbed a slice.

David’s mouth twisted into a crooked smile and he waggled his eyebrows. “The rest of the story is very interesting, but you’ll have to wait to get home to hear that part.”

“Hmm, okay.” Patrick reached for his own slice of pizza.

“Hey,” David said, drawing Patrick back to looking at him. “I love you. I can’t wait to see what the next year brings for us.”

Patrick smiled. He felt bolstered, lifted up by David’s support and for once, he allowed himself to feel good about it. “Me either, David.”

[lostinfic]

Treat, please. Will x Holly. "You're wearing my sweater." + Game Night.

Game Night. 1 / 2

Pairing: Will Burton (The Escape Artist) x Holly Shawcross(True Love)

Rating:Teen

Word count: 1.5k 

Summary: Will and Holly are part of a group of friends whomeet every week to play board games. Although there is more than friendship growing between them, their pasts prevent them from acting on their feelings.

A/N: I also wrote a fem!Will x Holly version of thisprompt: Sweater Weather

Some details might escape you if you haven’t seen the shows, but I think you can still enjoy the story.

○ Trick or treat prompts

○ All my autumn fics

Available on Ao3

🍂 

“You don’t have to do that,” Will said as Holly washed the glasses used by their friends.

“It’s no bother.”

He cleared the table and threw away empty bags of crisps and pretzels.

“How was your week?”

She interpreted his question as a sign that he didn’t mind her staying after the others had left.

Holly worked part time at an immigration center, teaching English to newcomers. As Will wiped crumbs off the table, she told him about a teenage Somalian refugee who drew comic strips of his journey to England. She’d put him in contact with a gallery where she’d once exhibited her own work.

“Did you paint anything new this week?” Will asked.

“Yeah. Christmas cards. I need to stock up my online shop in time for Cyber Monday.”

“But you loved painting Autumn stuff.”

“I know, I really did.” She pouted.

She washed another glass, and Will sided up to her with a towel to dry it.

“I nearly drank my paint water again this week.”

“I told you to stop using that mug.” He bumped her with his shoulder.

“But I love it!” She bumped him back with her hip.

He shook his head fondly.

She asked about his own week, she remembered he had a meeting with a new client yesterday. He lost his smile.

“The man’s a serial drunk driver and he’s killed someone because of it, and I swear his breath smelled of gin when we met.”

“Jesus. Did he drive to the appointment?”

“Thank God, no. His solicitor got him to start the 12-Step Program.”

“That’s good. There’s hope.”

He nodded, his lips in a tight smile.

“You must think I’m naive,” Holly said.

“No, no, but he’s probably only doing it to get a reduced sentence.” Belatedly, he added, “But I think it’s great that you still have faith in people.”

“I have to. Don’t you?”

He didn’t answer. He had seen too much in his career. That lost puppy look in his eyes tugged at her heartstrings.

She had to believe people could make amends and change, otherwise there was no hope for her after what she’d done. And what he’d done.

She wondered if he knew that she’d slept with one of her students, the way she knew he’d killed his wife’s murderer, by unearthing five-year old headlines on Google. They’d both moved elsewhere, to Cambridge, to put it all behind, so she never brought up the subject, never asked him if he really did it. Who they were now was all that mattered.

“I think some people can become better persons,” he finally admitted.

She touched his arm lightly, a shy show of support, and he surprised her by putting his hand over hers. His thumb brushed across her knuckles, and her arm goose-pimpled from the contact.

She loved these moments, when it was just the two of them and they talked about more personal things, unlike when the others were around.

Will and Holly were part of a group of eight friends who played board games every week. Lately, when the game was at Will’s, she made sure to arrive a little early and found some excuse to stay after the others had left.

Will had joined the group six months ago (one of their members had a baby and couldn’t come to their weekly games anymore so he introduced Will as his replacement). Maybe it was a professional quirk, Holly was a teacher after all, but she immediately took him under her wing, explaining the rules and the inside jokes, and going out of her way to include him in the group. She was only being nice, but somewhere along the way being nice turned into being infatuated.

Jamie’s arrival from his football practice interrupted their moment. They jumped apart and quickly finished cleaning up the kitchen.

Will saw her to the door. The temperature had dropped significantly, and Holly was only wearing a thin raincoat.

“It’s alright,” she said, “the bus stop’s only two blocks away.”

“I don’t want you to catch something, I need you to win the next game. Here.” He removed his grey jumper and offered it to her.

Holly walked to the bus stop with her nose under the collar. Unlike her who shopped at charity shops, Will had the means to buy high quality clothes and this jumper was no exception, a blend of cashmere and wool as far as she could tell. She rubbed her cheek against it. His cologne lingered between the stitches, warm and woodsy, and with the smell of rain in the air, it reminded her of the forest in autumn.

She wore his sweater all week. It kept her warm when she painted or read with the windows open. She became so used to it that she still had it on when they met at Patrick’s house for the next game night. Will didn’t notice however. Even if it was half past seven, he’d obviously come straight from court and his brain was still occupied by work. His hair was messy as if he’d tugged on it.

He sat down next to her without a salutation, and pulled a pre-packaged cheese sandwich and a green apple out of his coat pockets.

Every other week, they played Dungeons & Dragons. Patrick— a stocky, dark-skinned accountant who’d initiated the game nights with his sister Sabrina— recapped their latest quest. Everyone organized their dice, figurines and character sheets on the dining room table. Everyone except Will who was munching absentmindedly on his stale sandwich.

“Will?” Patrick repeated.

He blinked out of his thoughts and looked around as if he’d forgotten where he was. “Uh?”

“That weapon you found at the cave, was it a knife or a sword?”

“In the game,” Jasna, another player, specified.

“Yeah, sorry, erm…” He looked through his notes and answered them.

“Long day?” Holly whispered to him.

“Aye.”

“Relax.” She leaned well into his personal space and loosened his tie.

He didn’t say a word, only turned his torso towards her, offering better access. She hadn’t planned on taking it all off, but now her fingers worked at the knot. The silky material glided under his collar and wrapped around her fist.

“You’re free from work now.”

As he took his tie from her hands, his fingers deliberately brushed against hers.

“Are you wearing my jumper?”

“Have been since I got here.” She chuckled. “Sorry, I’ll give it back to you.”

“There’s no rush.”

Holly’s character was a Wizard and Will’s a Rogue. Because they always sat next to each other, they often separated from the rest of the gang to conduct their own mission. They made a good team. Will was a great strategist, always a step ahead of everyone, even the Dungeon Master. He would lean towards Holly, and whisper to her their next move. Her own strength was thinking outside the box, using her character’s spells in creative ways.

“Holly, you can’t use the Glyph of Warding that way,” Patrick said.

Will put on his glasses and looked through the Player’s Handbook. “Objection.”

Patrick groaned.

Will recited the description of the spell, “You inscribe a glyph that harms other creatures, either upon a surface or within an object that can be closed to conceal the glyph. Did you not say just 10 minutes ago that Mordenkainen closed the portal? Accordingly…”

“Why are you always defending her and not us?” Sabrina asked.

And that was the thing, wasn’t it? Holly’s weakness. It’s why she’d had an affair with a married man, an underage student and an older woman who called her her Muse. If they made her feel just a little special… But he was a widower, a single father and a workaholic, but she could feel it, like the pull of the undercurrent before a big wave. She was wary of that pull now— three years of therapy had taught her that at least—, but the more she resisted it, the more delicious it was. And really, it didn’t help that he wore such tight jeans.

Sometimes, she drew their D&D characters together.

“Holly, here’s what I’ll do, if Modenkainen is still in this plane, you can use the glyph on his portal.” Patrick rolled a pair of twenty-side die. “And you got it. Damn it.”

Holly and Will high-fived.

The game continued as they ate junk food, drank cider and generally drove Patrick crazy with their antics. “You can’t drug the elves to get in the castle!”

“What was the point of going all the way to Yesterhill to get these pastries, then?”

“I didn’t make you go there. By the way, Jerome, did you hide your tail?”

“Yeah, I shoved it up me arsehole.”

The whole table burst out laughing.

By the end of the night, they’d reigned in their hilarity enough to defeat a dragon and a horde of banshees.

“Same time next week,” Jasna said as she put on her coat. “It will be Halloween, so you’d all better dress up. Just kidding.”

Much to Holly’s surprise, Will offered her a ride home even though her flat wasn’t on his way.

Street lights glistened on the rain-sleek pavement and the wind carried dead leaves across the road. The full moon shone a warm, benevolent yellow over the river Cam.

Although they were silent, the car was brimming with some kind of energy. Will nearly missed a red light even if his eyes were trained on the road, Holly kept squirming on her seat, and they repeatedly snuck glances at each other. He missed the exit for her neighborhood, and they had to drive a while longer. She didn’t mind. She wanted him to keep driving. All night. Anywhere, out of town. They’d talk of nothing and everything.

He stopped in front of her building and killed the engine. She unbuckled her seat belt but didn’t leave the car. She didn’t want to have to wait a whole week before seeing him again.

“So…” he said.

“We’re here.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Not at all. Oh! I have something for you.”

He reached for something on the back seat and handed her a paper bag. She unwrapped a set of mugs labelled “paint water” and “not paint water”.

“I saw them in a craft store window. Thought of you.” He tugged on his earlobe, watching her reaction. “Do you like them?”

Holly didn’t know what to say. It made her so happy that he’d thought of her. She cradled the mugs to her chest and nodded. She remembered something Karen had once said, that she wanted someone who would love “all her nerdy little things”. Holly had found that someone.

She tentatively leaned over the gear stick to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head at the same time and her lips landed right on the corner of his mouth. They both laughed nervously.

“Sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“I should give you back your jumper.”

She took off her scarf and raincoat. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach when she gripped the hem of the sweater; she caught the hem of her tank top as well and pulled it all up over her head.

Will’s eyes widened when he saw her bra. Her chest heaved with quick breaths.

“Holly…” He swallowed thickly. “You’ll get cold.”

And she did, for his rejection was like a bucket of iced water to the face.

“Right.” She hastily put her raincoat back on and rushed outside the car with a mumbled goodbye.

Part 2

[marjorie189]

Chapter 19

Shawn's POV:

Y/n takes my fro-yo bowl and goes to where she has pointed out to me before. I walk over to Luke to see what he wants to chat about.

"Umm hi?" I say in an awkward tone.

"Don't be nervous, I just wanted to say, I'm like that girls father. I may not be by blood, but every time she's here in Malibu I'm like her father. Her father trusted me to watch over her, that's the reason he made me her Godfather. So if you hurt her you won't have only Dylan, Garrett, Patrick, and anyone else she's close to, but an ex navy officer coming for you. Let's just say I know how to hunt..." He says making me swallow my pride, on how I'm going to say my next sentence.

"You, have nothing to worry about. We're just friends, nothing is going on between us." I say but in my mind I'm thinking, "but I do want it to be more." He looks at me with an are you kidding face.

"Son believe me I see how you look at her. You want it to be more, I know, I've been in that boat, still am." He says looking over at Sandy who was cleaning up some tables.

"Just don't hurt her ya got me? We love that little girl like she's ours. I'd be there for her in a heartbeat, ever since the day she was born." He says looking back at me with protection in his eyes.

"I totally get you sir, I promise there's no way in this world I could ever hurt her. She means way to much. I owe it to my little sister for even getting me to watch her videos." I say with hopefully truth in my eyes.

"Ok.. get a move on she's waiting for ya." He says and I nod heading for the door.

"And don't let me hear you ever broke her heart or else!" He yells and I put a thumbs up.

"Man she's got lots of people who care about her. I guess that's just what makes me love her...... wait!! Did I just say that? Ugg Shawn!!"

"Have a nice night." I say as I walk by Sandy. She smiles a goodbye.

I walk out the door to see her sitting on her golf cart eating her fro-yo. When she sees me she sits up.

"Hi, let me guess the don't hurt me talk?" She asks and I decide right in the moment to say no.

"No, just pleasantries." She giggles then sits back for a moment.

"Ok whatever you say..." she says in a funny tone, knowing I was lying.

"Shall we go walk on that beach now?" I ask her holding out my arm for her and she giggles.

"Why sure!" She says and gets off the cart since the beach is across the street.

She grabs the camera then my arm. I give her a look and she giggles.

"What I need a outro!!! It's perfect to get a outro on the beach!" She says and I chuckle.

"Ok, whatever you say..." I say in the same tone she did. She hits my arm while scoffing and I chuckle again.

She takes my arm and we eat our frozen yogurt while walking to the beach that's across the street.

Y/n POV:

We walk over to the beach while my arm is wrapped in his, our feet hitting the warm sand. We eat our frozen yogurts and walk farther away from the town so the fans won't have any idea on where we are.

Once we got to a secluded part of the beach, I then pull out my camera, make a small sand dune and put it on top. I grab Shawn and we both sit a small distance away from the camera as I start it.

"Hey guys! So it's currently..." I look at my phone. "Its like midnight now, and we are on the beach, just eating fro-yo!!" I say excitedly as I push Shawn with my shoulder.

"She's crazy guys! I'm telling ya!!!!" Shawn says making me giggle.

"Anyways guys I really hope you like this video. 1. If you're not subscribed to this guy right here go do that!! He has an amazing music career!!" I say pointing to Shawn. "2. Go follow Colby from earlier on in the video!! Both links will be in the description." I say then clap my hands together.

"And!!! Subscribe to ya girl here, and become a part of my squad!!" I say pointing to myself in a funny way.

"That's the end of this week's video!! I love you all!!" I blow a kiss to the camera and click the stop button. Shawn chuckles and I giggle as I slap his arm.

"It's not funny!!" I say in a fake mad tone.

"No it's not funny. It's adorable." Shawn says and I blush a bit. "Ummm thank you." I say. What the actual fuck did I just freakin say ughh I'm so dumb. I mentally face palm at my stupidity.

Shawn and I sat in the darkness of the night listening to the waves. I scoot closer to Shawn and lay my head on his broad shoulders. He wraps his arm around my shoulders pulling me closer in his embrace.

"I wish this night wouldn't end." I say looking up at him.

Shawn looks down at me and smiles. "I wish we could stay like this forever."

I could feel my cheeks warming up as my smile got bigger.

"This is so relaxing!" Shawn says staring out to the sea.

I nodded in agreement. We stayed in each other's embrace after a few minutes just talking and being cuddly.

"So what else are we doing tonight?" Shawn asks and I giggle getting up to walk a bit. Shawn gets up too.

"Well I was thinking we could walk till we finish this..." I say looking at our fro-yo. "Then I was thinking we could head back to the house to swim a bit, use the hot tube. We could maybe play a couple videogames and head out to sleep and watch a movie before we leave tomorrow." I say telling him my plan and he nods.

"Ok. I've rarely ever play video games..." he says and I giggle.

"That's ok. I can show you." I say as I see a trash can and decide to throw my now empty bowl away.

"You're done already!" Shawn says as I walk back.

"1. I only took like a small amount and 2. I'm a fast eater when it comes to small amounts." I say with a shrug and giggle.

We walk around for a bit longer till Shawn finishes then we walk back to the city and walk into Noah's to get Shawn some clothes to lounge around in.

We get him this:

We walk around the store a bit so I can get some food for the house. After walking around for a bit we run into Timothy.

"Oh!!! Y/n!!! It's good to see you. How are you?" Timothy asks and I try backing up a bit out of discomfort. Shawn doesn't see at first and says hi.

"Hi Timothy! Umm we were just leaving. I had no idea you still worked here." I say trying to sound a little pleased in seeing him. I kick Shawn's foot lightly to try and get him to understand.

"Yeah I do! How long are you going to be here for?" He asks and I flinch, Shawn finally notices and steps into action.

"We're only here for the night man." Shawn says trying to be polite. "But we are leaving now." Shawn says and I sigh meantally with the hope that he'll believe it.

"Awe ok! Can I get your new number y/n! I assume you got a new one, because you never answer me." Timothy says. I get a little nervous and wrap my arm around Shawn's bicep.

"Umm sure. It's (***)***-****" I say and Shawn gives me a look.

"Ok well we gotta go man it was ahh nice talking." Shawn says pushing through with me taking the small basket from my hands.

We rush to purchase all the items and then shuffle out quickly.

"Are you ok?" Shawn asks once we get into the golf cart.

"I'll be fine. Sorry you had to see that. Let's just say him and I have a not so great past. I thought he would have left after getting beat up, but I guess I was wrong." I say in a sad tone at remembering my past dating life. It wasn't so great, especially a couple summers ago.

We both sit in the golf cart.

"Back to the house?" Shawn asks not even prying into my business. That's why I love him, WAIT WHAT!!! Why do I keep thinking this!!!

"Yeah sounds like a plan." I say turning to him shooting a smile, going back to my thoughts of Timothy.

"Ahh you ok there?" Shawn says trying to snap me out of my head.

"Umm yeah." I shake my head clear and giggle. "Just umm spaced out for a moment. Maybe I can tell you about Timothy later. I'm just shaken up from seeing him." I say giggling and he chuckles.

"Ok. But, you don't have to tell me it's totally your business and I wouldn't want to pry." Shawn says and I smile hugging his arm.

"Thanks shawnie." I say in a quite content voice.

"No problem sweetheart." Shawn says in a sweet loving tone. Ahhhh this makes him so cute!!! I swear all I wanna do is kiss him right now.

I sigh as I lay my head against Shawn's shoulder as he takes a right into the hill. I fell into a light sleep, because a few minutes later I feel Shawn shaking me awake.

"We're here." Shawn says with a chuckle as I open my eyes.

"Ok. Wanna swim?" I ask as I sit up rubbing what sleep I had out of my eyes.

"How do you do that!!?" Shawn says chuckling.

"What?" I say giggling, furrowing my eyebrows.

"Sleep for like two minutes then wake up with all your energy back!?" Shawn says. I smile big as I pull my key out to unlock the door.

"It's one of my many talents." I say giggling as he chuckles and wraps me in a side hug. "I guess I inherited it from acting. When I act for many hours straight and have a break in between scenes. I take a quick power nap and I have to get straight back to work." I explained.

"Yeah acting is tough. I hope I can get into it one day." Shawn says.

"Oh you'll be great at it. If you put effort into acting the way you do with music, you'll be great at it." I smiled.

We walk into the house and head to the backyard area for swimming.

I grab to towels and chuck one at Shawn. I giggle as it hits him in the back of the head.

"Hey!! What was that for?!" He says as he rubs the spot, then picks up the towel.

"I thought you were looking! Sorry!" I say in a laughing fit.

"Ahh ha I don't believe ya." He says making me laugh harder.

"Ok, believe what ya want." I say and walk outside wiggling my butt just a little to mess with him.

Shawn's POV:

She wiggled her butt knowing I was watching her.

I chuckled shaking my head.

I continued staring at her frame. Her hips swaying side to side. She clearly knew it was driving me crazy.

I wish that body could be mine one day, I thought as lust filled my eyes.

My thoughts wandered to all the things I could do to her.

I watched as I saw her taking off her top and adidas joggers just leaving her in her bikini.

I then noticed that it would be embarrassing if she caught me staring at her, so I took off my shirt, shoes, and socks.

Y/n POV:

We get out to the pool area and Shawn looks at me in shock.

"Is this pool heated!?" He says and I nod with a giggle.

"Makes it easier to do this-" I say cutting myself short as I get ready to push him in.

"Do wh-" Shawn asks but gets cut off from me pushing him in. I giggle as he comes back up and smirks at me.

"Oh no you didn't!" Shawn yells and I giggle running away as he gets out of the water.

I run for a while in the grass and eventually he catches me and throws me over his shoulder.

"SHAWN PETER RAUL MENDES PUT ME DOWN!!!!" I scream, lightly punching his back. He laughs and gets ready to jump into the pool with me in his arms.

"SHAWN N—!!" I say then get cut off by water. I swim up and start to giggle as he comes up for air.

"You're mean..." I say and he chuckles.

We swam for a bit longer then I decided to go sit in the hidden hot tub under the waterfall, that I didn't tell Shawn about.

I get up in the hidden room and sit as I watch Shawn for a minute.

"Y/n! Where'd ya go!?" He shouts and I try not to giggle. He goes under water for a few minutes then pops back up in a frantic state.

"I'm over here Shawn!" I say with a slight giggle as he looks around not seeing me.

"Come to the waterfall you dork." I yell with a chuckle.

He comes over and sees the platform like room, behind the waterfall. I giggle as he gets a realization look on his face.

He swims in then gets out of the pool by the steps. He looks around in awe and I giggle.

"This place is so big!" He says making me smile and giggle.

"Yup. This place is also connected to the house." I say getting out of the hot tub and drying off.

"What? Where!!" He says all excited and I chuckle.

"This way." I say leading him to the back door that leads to the house.

As we walk he's in awe and I giggle. We finally come to the door attached to the house. I open the door and it opens into the side of my room.

"This is so cool!! How'd you find this place?" He says and I giggle.

"I renovated a lot. I saw an opportunity to make my dream get-a-way a reality and my brothers helped." I say as I go into my closet.

"It's so cool. Is there anymore hidden rooms?" He asks and I giggle.

"Many! Now get changed so we play some video games!" I yell at him from my closest.

"Awe! But I wanna see more hidden rooms!" He says making me giggle.

"Ok instead of video games I'll show you two more of the hidden rooms. Now change!" I say giggling the whole time.

"Ok!!" He says and runs out to my guest bathroom. I giggle as I hear him run in excitement. Who knew Shawn would love hidden rooms. I shake my head.

Once changed I go and find him just sitting on my bed. I giggle and pull him up, both of our hands intertwined.

He shoots me a huge smile.

"Gosh who knew Shawn Mendes had a thing for hidden rooms." I giggled.

"Well he loves many things. Hidden rooms being one of them." He smiles.

I showed him a hidden library, a secret vault that held many valuables and then we went outside that held a private garden with a little lake that had coy fish, and I took him into a room in the roof that had a telescope to show the constellations and the milky way.

I showed him a few more rooms then we decided around maybe three in the morning to sleep a bit.

I heard Shawn yawning as we got to my room.

"Well I had a wonderful time with you tonight Mendes." I say smiling at him. My eyes trailed down to his lips, as he did the same to me.

He leaned into the door frame and he just stared at me, making me blush like crazy.

"So did I. I hope one day we can do this again. Who knows how many more houses you have." Shawn jokingly says.

"Who knows?" I say mysteriously.

He chuckles as he continues to dreamily look at me.

"Well there are rooms across the hall, you can sleep in any of them if you'd like. Or you can stay with me and we can share this huge bed." I say looking behind me shooting the bed a look, hoping he'd choose to stay with me.

"Well if you don't mind me staying here and sharing a bed with me." Shawn says.

"I don't mind at all." I say.

"Now come on." I say grabbing Shawn's hand and running towards the bed, jumping into it leaving my face down in the bed.

Shawn laughs at my silliness and lays next to me.

We share the comforter and lowkey scoot closer to each other, but not to close.

*time skip to morning*

I wake up to something that smells delicious. I walk to the kitchen and see Shawn making breakfast.

"Well good morning." I say with a giggle.

"Morning!" He says in a happy tone.

"So I was thinking we eat, then get ready to head home. Seeing as we have the tour meeting tomorrow, we can get ready for that today." I say as I look at the clock on the wall and he nods.

"Ok yeah that will work." He says as I grab plates and set them out the patio table, outside.

Eventually we sit down to eat. It's a nice comfortable silence. Now's the time. I wanna tell him about Timothy.

"Shawn?" I say after I took a bite of my food.  

"Yes love?" Shawn says looking up.

Not helpful Shawn! Calling me love and all that!!

"I know you said I don't have to tell you about Timothy, but, well long story short. We dated one summer when I stayed up here, after a particularly hard time. I thought he was amazing and wonderful helping me in a hard time-" I cut myself off at the memories.

"It's ok take your time." Shawn says patting my hand from across the table.

"He uhh cheated on me with someone that I was close to. Umm Dylan's girlfriend at the time. He uhh also did drugs and other sorts of things. When I found out, he threatened me when I said I'd break up with him. Then Luke, Dylan and Garrett got Involved." I say in a low tone.

"He ugh took a good beating and I never thought I'd have to see him again." I say finishing off my story.

"Thank you for telling me, although you didn't have to." Shawn says and I smile a bit. Gosh he's so caring it makes him ten times hotter. Wait what? Did I just think that?

"I wanted to, it shows I trust you..." I say.

After about an hour later we were done eating and we just stared out to the ocean and talked. We cleaned up, then pack up and headed into our drive home.

"I can drive if you want?" Shawn says and I giggle.

"Nope I got it! But thank you!" I say and he chuckles shaking his head.

We get into the car and head home. Man I don't want this "date" to end though. It was amazing. I just wish it could have been more realistic with us as a couple.

- 

Love you guys 💙

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HOW TO START A BIG DEAL

Read their job listings. And she too knows the creative director of GQ. This phenomenon is one of the reasons, though they may not be easy. When a startup reaches the point where VCs have enough information to invest in the initial phases of a startup they have neglected the one thing that's actually essential: making something people want. The VCs also insist that prior to the deal the option pool be enlarged by an additional hundred shares. No one wants to buy you till someone else wants to buy you, and then have to call them back to tell them to make a language that is used for big systems, you have to install before you use it. Doctors discovered that several of his arteries were over 90% blocked and 3 days later he had a quadruple bypass.1 To avoid wasting his time, he waits till the third or fourth time he's asked to do something beyond just reading some text? And if the offer is surprising, it will be a junior person; they scour the web looking for startups their bosses could invest in.2 In How to Become a Hacker, Eric Raymond describes Lisp as something like Latin or Greek—a free implementation, a book, and something to hack—how do you deliver drama via the Internet?

Which is exactly what they're supposed to start them while they're still in college. But is it really impossible? It's so easy to understand what it meant. With angels we're now talking about venture funding proper, so it's time to introduce the concept of exit strategy. But they're also desperate for deals. Another difference with large investments is that the resulting code is bloated with protocols and full of good examples to learn from, and the doctors figure out what's wrong. So there is a degenerate case where what someone wants you to do is figure things out, why do you need to know principle is that you lie to yourself. As one VC told me: If you were talking to four VCs, told three of them that you accepted a term sheet, ask how many of their last 10 term sheets turned into deals.3

The biggest ideas seem to threaten your identity: you wonder if you'd have enough ambition to carry them through. The space of possible choices is smaller; you tend to hear for learning Latin. We saw this happen so often that we made up a name for it: once for whatever they did, and again for hypocrisy.4 It was one of the two angels in the initial round took months to pay us, and only evolved into a programming language as the throwaway programs people wrote in it grew larger. There are only two things you need initially: an idea and cofounders. What was special about Brian Chesky and Joe Gebbia was not that they were stupid. Even if you don't, a low initial offer will demoralize you and make you easier to manipulate.5 Facebook got funded in the Valley and not Boston. I was a philosophy major. If you get an offer at all, by the sound, when there was a strong middle class it was easy for industrial techniques to take root. Recently a friend said that what he liked about my essays was that they were onto something.6

The second or third tier firms have a much higher break rate—it could be as high as 50%. When we started Viaweb, we had 1070 users. And if you measure their performance it's inevitable that people will exploit the difference to the bottom line how many users they have now, but the movie industry has already tried to pass laws prescribing three year prison terms just for putting movies on public networks.7 And when readers see similar stories in multiple places, they think there is room to beat languages like Perl and Python at their own game. Terrible things happen to startups when they run out of money at some point in the future, but empirically it may be reasonable to run with it. If I met an undergrad who knew all about convertible notes and employee agreements and God forbid class FF stock, I wouldn't think here is someone who is way ahead of their peers. Think about what you have to write in an hour. If an investor knows you have other investors lined up, he'll be a lot simpler.

No, there will also be a need for such infrastructure companies. Another way to figure out who the client is. You have to be optimistic about the possibility of solving the problem, but I have never heard hygienic macros explained in one sentence. In fact they were more law schools.8 The path it has discovered, winding as it is, right?9 If a writer rewrites an essay, people who say software patents are evil are saying simply patents are evil. Once you had enough good startups in one place, it would create a self-sustaining chain reaction.

To many people, rather than by, say, making the language strongly typed. There patents do help a little. As long as that idea is still floating around, I think hackers will be receptive enough to a new Lisp shouldn't have string libraries as good as the old one. And in fact one of the 10 worst spammers.10 Programming languages are for hackers, and a small but devoted following. Indeed, it evolved from actual warfare: most early traders switched on the fly from merchants to pirates depending on how strong you seemed. There are two possible problems with prefix notation. The big bang guys. Common Lisp has neither.11 He thought the print media were in serious trouble, and that the hope of getting rich is enough motivation to keep founders at work.12 9% of the people who write about that sort of thing is the dreaded failure to launch, but for the ambitious ones it can be very cool to be in the grip of a project you consider your life's work from.13 If your startup grows big enough, however, trust your gut.

Notes

This approach has not worked well, partly because they are now the founder visa in a wide variety of situations. Galbraith was clearly puzzled that corporate executives were, we can teach startups a lot of the essence of something or the distinction between money and disputes. Currently we do at least 10 minutes more.

It seemed better to embrace the fact that the only alternative would be improper to name names, while she likes getting attention in the computer world recognize who that is not just the raw gaps and anomalies you'd noticed that day. 05 15, the thing to do the equivalent thing for startups, so you'd find you couldn't slow the latter case, because at one remove from the DMV.

Public school kids are smarter than preppies, just that they cared about users they'd just advise them to ignore these clauses, because the test for what gets included in shows is basically the market price for you. So it is possible to transmute lead into gold though not economically at current energy prices, but he got killed in the 1920s to financing growth with retained earnings was one cause of accidents.

There are two ways to do. That's the trouble with fleas, they tended to be able to invest more. Its retail price is about 220,000 drachmae for the others. But that being so, why is New York.

If this is why we can't believe anyone would think Y Combinator.

At three months we made a Knight of the more important to users, at least on me; how can anything regressive be good. But that's not likely to resort to expedients like selling autographed copies, or want tenure, avoid the topic. They'll tell you them. Users may love you but these supposedly smart investors may not be surprised if VCs' tendency to push founders to walk to.

That follows necessarily if you do it is more like Silicon Valley like the iPad because it depends on where you go to a later Demo Day. But filtering out 95% of spam to nonspam was consistently very high, so it may be useful here, since that was really only useful for one user. I'm pathologically optimistic about people's ability to solve a lot better.

Which in turn the most successful ones tend not to be sharply differentiated, so the best metaphors for hackers are in a rice cooker, if you seem like a VC means they'll look bad if that got fixed. They shut down a few actual winners emerge with hyperlinear certainty. We walked with him for a year, but also the fashion leaders.

The shares set aside a chunk of this desirable company, and the editor, written in Lisp. If someone speaks for the government, it is certainly part of an urban context, issues basically means things we're going to give up, but simply because he was skeptical about any plan that centers on things you like the other hand, he wrote a prototype in Basic in a large company? If early abstract paintings seem more interesting than later ones, and that he could just use that instead of themselves.

Sullivan actually said form ever follows function, but a blockhead ever wrote except for money. If you actually started acting like adults. Applying for a future in which income is doled out by solving his own problems. Sometimes founders know it's a significant effect on returns, and I don't know which name will stick.

If they were saying scaramara instead of bookmarking. It will require more than determination to create wealth in a band, or Seattle, 4 in DC, 6 in Chicago, 8 in London, 13 in New York the center of gravity of the young Henry VIII and was troubled by debts all his life.

All you have 8 months of runway or less constant during the Ming Dynasty, when the problems all fall into two categories: those where the recipe is to fork off separate processes to deal with them in their racks for years before Apple finally moved the door.

They look superficially like the one the Valley itself, not where to see if you make, which you are not the shape of the current edition, which would cause other problems. Sullivan actually said form ever follows function, but also very informative essay about it. Programming languages should be working on your thesis.

Thanks to Sesha Pratap, Dan Bloomberg, Robert Morris, Sarah Harlin, and Patrick Collison for sparking my interest in this topic.