#Poorly Wired Circuit

[catepagewrites]

BESTIES!

I truly didn't think this was going to be a thing but Poorly Wired Circuit is now available to pre-order as a paperback!

I want to thank everyone who has been so supportive and kind throughout this process. Self-publishing is literally the most confusing thing ever and I don't know how I ever managed to accomplish any of it! Thank you! Endless thank yous!

[magpie-to-the-morning]

Eating Tangfastics and reading Poorly Wired Circuit in the bath. Bliss. 😌

[wildemaven]

It’s here!!!! I’m so excited to have a physical copy in my library now!! So excited for you Cat!! @radiowallet

[gracie7209]

@catepagewrites I wasn’t expecting it so soon, but I got my copy!

[grogusmum]

@radiowallet

Eeeeee! And my paperback is coming tonight! 💚💚💚

POORLY WIRED CIRCUIT!!

Congratulations, Catigail!

[allmahfeels]

Just got home and this was waiting for me in the mail!! I’m so excited to read this and fall in love with the characters all over again. Congratulations @catepagewrites, what an amazing achievement!!

[between-the-pages657]

Started reading @catepagewrites new book “Poorly Wired Circuit” and I’m literally squealing.

I’ve missed these two so much!!!!!

[amneris21]

IT’S HERE!!!!

@catepagewrites @radiowallet

[yourstrulylightstar283]

Sarah Bailey for radiowallet

Disclaimer:

Sarah Bailey and PWC (c) @radiowallet/@radiowallet-writes/@catepagewrites

The aesthetic collage (c) @yourstrulydisneylady23(Me)

[catepagewrites]

Poorly Wired Circuit Cover Reveal

I had the immense pleasure and honor to collaborate with @mjpens on the cover for my debut novel Poorly Wired Circuit.

As they always are, Maia was a dream to work with and my vision is even more beautiful than I could have ever dreamed! I am beyond touched that they took on the task of creating this cover for me! Please, please, if you don't already, follow Maia on their art blog @mjpens and their main blog @honestly-shite (On top of being an amazing artist, Maia is a brilliant writer)!

More goodies under the cut --

[kachowden]

How did Jessie’s infatuation with his darling start?

Ohoho this is a fun ask! Thank you anon

To be honest Jessie and your meeting wasn’t all that magical. You didn’t help him gain sentience. He had that long before meeting you. And you weren’t the first person to treat him like he was “human” either.

In fact, you two had worked together for a while before his obsession started, and he knew for fact that you were not a fan of androids.

But you were never outwardly rude to him or any of the bots in the work place. Whether because they were above you on the social pyramid, or because you just couldn’t be bothered, he wasn’t sure. (It was the last one btw)

He liked to believe that you were simply too morally upright. You couldn’t find it in yourself to treat anything poorly even if it was something simply made of code. Except for your stress ball maybe. He’d seen crumpling buildings in better shape.

Jessie knew you weren’t a bad person, despite your…biases.

He liked that about you.

But he didn’t love you. Not yet anyway. He just admired you.

To be honest that’s how his feelings started out, and still very much are. Admiration.

You were one of the best human workers he’d ever met.

Hardworking, determined

Even at times going out of your way to help out your coworkers, or stay late to cover for them.

(Admittedly you were just doing it for the bonus but he didn’t need to know that.)

His admiration just kind of grew from there, into a bit of a puppy crush. He still admired you greatly, but he couldn’t really help but get a little more nervous around your presence now.

His eyes would wander to you randomly during meetings. He’d notice small habits of yours. Sometimes when booting up, one of his first thoughts would be whether you were coming in that day.

Occasionally when reviewing the workloads he’d pause on your name, and maybe zone out for about 5 minutes before getting back to work. (Then maybe go back again to look at your file)

Sometimes he’d bring you coffee, only getting the order wrong once before it never happened again.

He’d be a bit more lenient with your work, or schedule, or holidays. Simple stuff like that.

It reached its peak though, during a very simple moment. That realistically could’ve been avoided.

He tripped. How’d he trip? His shoelace was untied. How was a supposedly flawless being able to have an untied shoelace? Simple. He was thinking about you and forgot to tie it that morning.

And while granted had he fallen, he would’ve been fine. Maybe a wire knocked loose or a scuff on his silicone skin, but nothing detrimental.

But, of course, you deciding you didn’t want to deal with the possibility of any extra paperwork, swooped in.

You caught him. Literally. You caught him.

That was it. That was the big “Bang” moment.

Jessie officially fell in love with you because you caught him.

Call him delusional but he believed it was because you cared about him. At least a little. Not to mention your arms were very comfortable and very strong because he’s made almost entirely out of metal and that’s not light at all and you were also very hot and omgyouwerelookingathimandyoupickedhim up and-

He pretty much short circuited after you put your hand on his shoulder and asked if he was okay.

So you had to file paperwork anyway.

And suddenly deal with your boss becoming 10x clingier than before seemingly out of nowhere.

Not that you cared too much given the nice fat bonus you ended up receiving.

[fortpeat]

Fav PaiSky fics of all time

(Update) Almost all of them are one chapter fics and easier to keep up with. - P.s dont forget to look at the tags of fics. Also this list is based on how many times i have reread all of them which is countless at this point and also these are my comfort fics.

Invisible Ladders

Operation Dessert

fingertips putting on a show

Layer by Layer

Slowly, then all at once

Don't Lick (Read: Lick Harder)

Time Taken

Claiming Ownership

and I want you (to want me)

An Admission of Surrender

Rewrite the lines

Home

Unbreakable

Driving Me Wild

In the middle of the night

Up to you

The wounds we Feel, In solace we Heal

With you, I'm a Beautiful Mess

More than a Memory

Set My Veil on Fire

Show Me You're Shameless

Make me Fly

Sunlight & Stardust

Bound (Singing On His Body)

Between These Pages

a poorly-wired circuit

What An Honour That Is

[between-the-pages657]

“You’re beautiful.”

“Alex, focus.”

😂

[screamingintothestarss]

wildflowers (part ii)

pairing: fratboy!Hunter x f!reader

chapter rating: gen

chapter warnings: starwars university!au, use of she/her pronouns, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, miscommunication, some angst, almost kissing, sorta cheesy love tropes lol, emotions are complicated

word count: 2.1k

notes: i am so so sorry for the late updates, i’ve had like two projects and an essay due. it’s also midterm week for me! however please enjoy!! ╰(▔∀▔)╯

chapters: i ii iii

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You spread the cloth across your face, rubbing at pink blotches of makeup sitting pretty on your cheekbone. You think that maybe if you scrub hard enough, you can wipe away the memory of tonight–of him. 

He was so casual with her, so easygoing and flirtatious, and it left you feeling all soured and rotten. He never flirted with you, never throwing you that sly wink and smile you’d seen him give other women. Would you want that, though? To have another guy lick his lips, eyes gliding along your curvature just to see you as another score? The feeling is like a vibroblade in your gut, twisting and screwing its way into your stomach, spilling out dead butterflies and buried feelings. 

“You almost done?” a tinny voice raps on the door and you jump. 

“No, not really,” you grumble, and you try really hard not to let her have it. You’re already trying not to drown in the murky depths of your emotions, and the last thing you need is your pushy roommate pulling you under.

You take a long hot shower to soothe that ache in your chest, much to her chagrin. 

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“What's wrong with him?” Wrecker whispers rather poorly in Crosshair's direction. 

“I'd bet it's that girl of his,” he rasps, toothpick bouncing between his lips. Despite the bite in his tone, he can't peel his gaze off of Hunter, those brotherly gears in his head starting to turn. Sure, he'd seen him upset before, like that time he'd cut his hair after losing that bet, or the time he got ghosted by that one girl, but this felt different. It felt like an axe to his chest, hacking away at muscle and bone–it made him hurt. He wished he had the words sometimes, an answer, even, but those circuits weren't wired correctly either. 

Echo's were, however. He always seemed to know what to say and said what needed to be said. He'd cut you open to the core and patch you right back up afterward.

Crosshair taps around on his comm and in no time Echo emerges from his bedroom, adjusting his prosthetic. 

No other words need to be exchanged: it's a silent agreement, an understanding built over years of brotherhood: tight-knit like a warm sweater. 

Echo hums and takes a seat beside Hunter, the leather cushion dipping under his weight. Crosshair and Wrecker quietly clear the room, leaving the two brothers alone.

Hunter doesn't stir, still stuck in the thick fog of your perfume. 

Echo gives him a once over before speaking up; "What happened, Sarge?" 

"You know I don't care for that nickname, Echo," he laughs, and it's strained, the soreness in his chest pulling it taught. 

Echo's brow relaxes. At least he wasn't plagued by that all-consuming grief, the kind that leaves you gutted and slack-jawed.

"You went to that party one way and came back another...my guess is it's something to do with her?" He says it rather bluntly, like a heavy box falling onto the ground with a thunk.

Hunter meets his eyes and nods. His jaw circles, and he clicks his tongue.

"She saw me with someone else," he breathes, "It wasn't...it wasn't like that."

Echo nods, understanding melting onto a stony expression. Hunter didn't need to explain anything further, never with him.

"A miscommunication, then. But I'm guessing she wasn't up for talking about it, eh?" 

"No. She wasn't." It's flat and grainy between his teeth, but there's a buried longing there; he just needed to sift through the sand. 

But maybe you didn't want to be found.

Maybe he should keep you buried, letting granules of sand and dust fill in the cracks of what could've been.

What the hell was he thinking?

Echo sees him falling into his thoughts–dark, deep, and treacherous; but his next words reach out to catch him. 

"Do you like her?"

Hunter pauses and hits the replay button on his memory. …Do I like her?

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"Quadratics are pretty simple," you explain, "First, you want everything in standard form, then you need to plug in all your variables and-" you pause, meeting the brown-grey eyes boring into yours. 

"Are you even listening?" Your voice is like spice to his ears, and he doesn't think it's an addiction he wants to shake. 

"I'm always listening to you," he says cooly, and you can't pinpoint what's behind his eyes. It makes your stomach recoil nonetheless. You blow, holding your head down so he can't see the red and pink hues bleeding onto your cheeks. 

He definitely notices.

How couldn't he? 

He's unconsciously mapping your features, scrawling them onto some blank page in his memory. Truth be told, Tech had already taught him everything he needed to know about mathematics, piercing that thick skull of his. But Hunter allowed himself to admit that he simply wanted to spend more time with you, emptying what he could and letting you fill in the rest: all flowery and saccharine-sweet. 

He lets himself slip away for a moment, getting lost in that hazy scent you're always wearing. It's funny; he wasn't one for perfumes or smells in general, but something about yours had him inebriated, stumbling over formulas and equations. You meet each other's eyes, hues swirling together like paints on a palette, and he's tempted to create something beautiful.

He leans in closer to you, sealing in that distance that's been driving him up the walls. Like that evening at the dinner table, you're both magnetized, unable to pull away, and you're about to seal the deal when-

“Hey, I think I reserved this room?” a sharp voice sounds, cutting through the line keeping you both tethered.

“Sorry!”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“I like the way these ones glow,” you say, eyeing a beautiful array of bouquets and arrangements. You and Hunter are stopped in front of a flower shop, its colorful exterior bouncing with pretty plants from all over the galaxy–some of these colors you swore you’ve never even seen before. An elderly Pantoran woman exits the shop, the door sliding open with a ding! 

“Looking for anything in particular?” she squeaks, her voice small and frail much like her stature. 

You peer at her and shake your head kindly, “No thank you, we’re just looking.”

“Nonsense! There’s plenty more to look at inside!” Her veiny blue hand tugs at your arm, pulling you through the door, and you look back at Hunter whose expression is a mix of amusement and…nervousness? He trails behind you both, hands tucked into a red and black letterman jacket.

You ooo and ahh at the various arrangements decorating the shop, but one in particular catches your eye. Sharp for her old age, the woman’s eyes sparkle as she follows your gaze, and then she’s got that iron grip on your arm again, whisking you away to the back of the shop. 

You’d never seen anything like this before. The arrangement is nothing short of gorgeous; dark blues, violets, pinks, whites–a myriad of hues that has you clutching your heart. Its bioluminescent glow reflects in the whites of your eyes like shooting stars, and Hunter watches planetside, transfixed on how your features are framed in the underglow. 

He doesn’t know what to make of the feeling settling in his stomach, all warm and sweet and comforting. He’s staring at you, and he can’t help but to think of that one painting in that art gallery you dragged him to: what was it, again? It was really, really colorful…like…like a field of-

“Felucian wildflowers!” The woman tells you, her wrinkly smile edging ear to ear. 

“They’re beautiful,” you sigh.

“Yeah…” Hunter breathes, paying no mind to the flowers adorning your frame. “Beautiful.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“What!?”

You’re laughing, a mix of amusement and disbelief that has Hunter fiending–a line under the ocean’s surface, he’ll keep reeling you in until it snaps. 

He scoffs, “Don’t believe me?”

You psh, your frame lazily laid out on the hood of his speeder. “I’m supposed to believe you and Tech used to drag race?”

He mimics you, getting cozy on the hood before looking back at you. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You meet his eyes and try really hard not to get lost in brown and grey hues, afraid you might never find your way out again. You’re staring at each other, laid out under a starry sky and the white glow of the moon. It’s as if the light is cradling you, he thinks, holding you with the same adoration he’d give a piece of himself for.

“I believe you,” you speak up, and it’s breathless, the heat of want wafting through your lips. 

“Okay.” It’s all he says before moving closer to you, head all stuffy as calloused hand reaches out for soft skin to-

The chiming of his comlink yanks him straight back into the parking lot, met with a low groan and your giggling.

He does little to hold back his eye-roll as Wrecker materializes onto the comm, his blue figure fizzing in and out.

“Sarge!” The cheerful nonchalance in his tone relaxes Hunter a bit; at least he didn’t start another kitchen fire. 

“Yeah?” 

“We're about to start movie night! You comin’?”

Hunter internally curses; he'd been too wrapped up in everything you that movie night had completely slipped his mind. He knew Omega wouldn't want to start without him, and the thought of her waiting up for him pricked at his skin like thorns.

“We're on our way-” The words slip from his lips before he can catch them, and his eyes flit towards your frame.

“Huh? Who's ‘we’?” Wrecker raises a thick brow, slowly putting the pieces together. “Haw! You're with your girlfrie-!”

Hunter closes the channel.

An awkward laugh stumbles through your lips, rolling around in the tension. You try to keep a cool facade, a blank canvas that he won't be able to paint on, but the way you're fidgeting gives him a few colors to start with.

You're reeling, brain jumping around in your skull trying to find somewhere safe to land; We're on our way.

Four simple words, yet they hold the weight of a thousand stars. We–us. Is that what he thought of you? As a part of him? A cog and screw working together to power this machine of fondness creeping up between you two? It has you feeling so secure and tender, yet terrified. 

You start to remember the shameless looks and wandering eyes tearing him apart on campus, and it leaves you feeling sick. 

Your thoughts wander into someplace creaky and dark, grimy and lifeless. All that sweet heat you'd just felt is swept away by the brittle winds of doubt. 

You remember how close she got to him on the desk, running a hand over his shoulder like you weren't sitting right there. 

Sick

You remember the one who'd throw her hair back, trying to pry his attention from you. They'd been…involved before, and you remember having to suppress that anger boiling in your gut.

Sick, sick, sick

You don't know how to feel or what to think. You want to give him the benefit of the doubt, assume his intentions are pure, and you know they are, but it's why you're so confused. That fear creeps up your neck, and you try to shoo it away. 

“Did you want to come?” He’s asking you, and it pulls you from the muck–but you're still covered in that grime. 

“No, I'm okay,” you breathe, and it’s heavy; weighed down by spindles and thorn branches.

He doesn't press you any further, but he's worried. Did Wrecker's words scare you off? Was he sitting too close? Was…was it something you'd want? His head’s spinning, caught in the hamster wheel of conflicting emotions. 

He could finalize it right now if he wanted: confess to you what you've already etched on the foundations of his heart, slaying that beast of confusion. 

But he can't risk it.

So he plays it safe.

“My frat's throwing a party on the first…I'd like it if you could be there.” He regains that cool huskiness in his voice, and it's got you hot all over again.

You breathe, and try not to let those chilly winds blow you into oblivion. You decide to face toward the sun and give into that warmth; that of trust.

“Okay.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“Hunter?”

He bristles, and the lenses in his eyes adjust their focus, finding Echo’s concerned expression.

“Sorry Echo, I-”

“Do you like her?” He repeats, his tone less weighty this time.

Hunter exhales, briefly looking away. He knows they both know the answer; he may as well have tattooed it next to the skull on his face. Saying it out loud seemed so final: like ink to a page, there was no room for error–no eraser to smudge the truth away. But that’s exactly what it was: the truth. And Hunter wouldn’t lie to you.

“I love her.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

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[yourstrulylightstar283]

Nice and beautiful work! 😀

Wow this one went fast!!

This is a moodboard for @radiowallet ‘s Poorly Wired Circuit, requested by @disgruntledspacedad .

Correct guesses by @bunniesofsteel @novemberrain221 @nolanell and @day-off-inkyoto so I’ve got several more moodboards in the works. Just a heads up, these will take longer but I love that you’re enjoying

Magpie’s Moodboard Game!

[yourstrulylightstar283]

Tagged: @radiowallet/@radiowallet-writes/@catepagewrites

Disclaimer:

Sarah Bailey and Poorly Wired Circuit (c) @radiowallet/@radiowallet-writes/@catepagewrites

Lucy Boynton, Saoirse Ronan, Florence Hugh and Anya Taylor-Joy (c) Themselves