#harringrove big bang announcement
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bigbangharringrove · 2 years ago
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Interested in participating in a community-building event to create a huge wave of Harringrove content for the fandom? Interested in working on a project with a fic writer you may or may not already know? The Harringrove Big Bang event is running NOW and will feature writers and artists being paired to create projects together all to celebrate Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington. We ended writer sign-ups with 54 participants, and now sign-ups are open for artists to join in! You can sign-up from now until 11:59 PM PST on Sunday, August 13.
Sign-Up Here
Guidelines | Schedule | FAQ
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medusapelagia · 1 year ago
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Public Service Announcement
It’s Harringrove BigBang Promo Week so I’m going to repost every promo post I see as I did for the Steddie Holiday Exchange.
If for any reason this might bother you just block the #harringrove tag and you will not see any of those contents ☺️!
Thank you and have a nice Harringrove Big Bang Promo Week! 🎉🥳
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harringrovebigbang · 3 years ago
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Some Updates
Hey all! After discussing with my new co-mod, we've decided to keep the collection open for an additional week.
On Saturday, 8/21, artists, moodboard creators, and playlist creators can start posting their content to their social medias to help promote the projects they've been working on!
The AO3 collection will open on Saturday 8/28, and then the collection will close on Sunday, 9/5, to give artists and writers both more time to complete their works. Everyone must post their works to tumblr and tag @harringrovebigbang, or post to the AO3 Collection.
The Final Check-In email has been sent out to everyone and it includes a lot of the information in this post. THIS CHECK IN IS STILL MANDATORY. It is optional for Beta-Readers. The Check-In also includes a portion to give exit feedback to improve if we decide to hold another Big Bang event next year.
For anyone who may not have received the email, here is the Final Check-In form: https://forms.gle/vYD52GdB94maYpfx8
If you have any questions, concerns, or issues, please do not hesitate to send us a message via email or through the tumblr!!
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neonponders · 2 years ago
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A master post for my Harringrove Event fics ~
Hold the Sun - ancient Greek!au - Harringrove Big Bang 2021
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Worth Saving - post s3 farm!au - June 2022 Harringrove Week
Found You (Side-Ways) - s4 rewrite - June 2022 Harringrove Week
Like a Hurricane - season 3 but no monsters - July 2022 Harringrove Week
It’s Showtime - Beetlejuice!au - October 2022 Harringrove Week
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Now You’re Mine - post s2, witch!steve & soulmates!au - Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2020
Valhalla, I am Coming - Frozen 2!au (Billy has ice powers) - Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2021
*to be announced* - Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2022
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platypanthewriter · 3 years ago
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Hook Possum 4/4
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Art by @monsdasarah​ for Harringrove Big Bang!
PART ONE | TWO | THREE
The last night, Robin told one of the weirder bits of Hook Possum lore, staring dead at Steve the whole time.
“Once, long, long time ago,” she began, in a sibilant stage whisper, her flashlight under her chin. “Back when all these trees were still pinecones, a stranger came to the little town you passed driving in, on the highway.” The littlest kids shivered and nodded, scooting closer to the fire. “There wasn’t much going on there then,” Robin went on, grinning evilly, “—and a stranger was exciting. He went to all the dances, and he was handsome, and what do you think happened?” she offered the flashlight to an older girl, who was biting her lips together in glee.
“One of the girls fell in love with him,” she suggested, and Robin smiled.
“Have you never wondered who Hook Possum searches for, with a lantern, in the dead of night,” Robin said, and Steve rubbed his face, feeling it heat.
“...what,” Hook Possum asked, edging closer, and Steve sighed, shaking his head. It’d become habit now to slide his fingers in Hook Possum’s costume at the wrist, between his wrist, the cuff, and the friendship bracelet, and Steve leaned closer. Hook Possum’s hand twitched, but then he relaxed, ducking his head. Steve hoped he was smiling.
“Hook Possum searches for a murderer,” Robin said. “The dancing stranger. Because the night they were to be married, he left Hook Possum buried in a shallow grave.”
“Wait, Hook Possum’s a girl?!” yelled a kid, huge-eyed, and Hook Possum looked around. Steve thought Hook Possum being a possum was more to the point, but nobody else seemed to see a problem.
“It’s just a costume,” said another one. “Hook Possum might be a girl really.”
“That’s right, mom possums carry their young around,” said another one, and a couple kids grabbed Hook Possum’s legs and arm, listening intently.
“Hook Possum came to meet her love, under the yellow poplar in the center of camp,” Robin whispered. “And he buried her there.”
Everybody gasped, and Hook Possum’s mask twitched as he glanced at Steve.
“She’d made a lovely flower crown, and she never got to wear it at her wedding,” Robin said, and Steve’s cheeks heated further. He decided to shift the planks holding her mattress up that night, so she’d fall through in the dead of night. “And that,” Robin intoned, holding the flashlight under her chin, and letting her voice waver creepily, “—is the real reason Hook Possum wanders this earth, alone, with her lantern. She wants to wear her flower crown. She’s looking for her love.”
The kids were all staring at Hook Possum, but as a creepy mass, their eyes followed his arm down to where Steve had his fingers tucked in the cuff and friendship bracelet, and then up again to Steve’s face. “Oh noooo,” he breathed.
“I can make flower crowns,” said Blair Witch Mirror Kid.
“We can have a wedding,” said Sun Safety Girl.
“Tomorrow,” Robin said, her mouth quirked evilly. “We’ll need to get ready.”
“I was at a wedding,” Pink Overalls said. “You throw flowers at people.”
“Before the buses show up,” Robin announced. “We’ll hold a wedding for Hook Possum.”
Steve had wondered before then whether the kids had noticed...whatever it was, between him and Hook Possum. Hook Possum sat next to him at the fire, his mask on Steve’s shoulder, Steve’s fingers tucked against his wrist, feeling his heartbeat. Sometimes the kids looked at them for a while, but they never said anything shitty, and Steve wondered if he’d been obvious the whole time, and Robin, Dustin, Max, and El had been running interference.
“We’ll need vows,” said Bell Witch Mirror Game Kid, who needed a shorter nickname, but Steve shrugged, because it was the second-to-last day of camp.
Hook Possum’s mask kept jerking towards Steve, then away, but he didn’t pull his arm away from Steve’s.
The next morning, Hook Possum got drug away from the cabin first thing, while Steve still had his arms wrapped around the post of the bed, snoring with his head under the pillow. When they let Steve come and look, the kids had drug all the chairs so there was an aisle under the trees, and set up an overturned trash can as the altar.
“Because he’s a possum,” said Dustin, grinning.
“Ha, ha,” Steve said dryly. His cheeks hurt from smiling, but he tried to keep a straight face as little kids showed him the flowers they’d picked, and told him they’d used all his possum facts in the vows. “...wow,” Steve said, thinking about ticks and carrion.
“We’re gonna play kazoos,” said Dustin, and Steve turned to see El earnestly putting a kazoo between her lips, accompanied by Max, Lucas, and Nancy’s kid brother, Mitchell. “...oh,” Steve said, wondering whether he was gonna be able to keep from doubling up with laughter when they were mid-possum vow and the kazoos started.
The kazoos started as they walked Hook Possum out, flower crown and all. “I made you a flower crown too,” Bell Witch Mirror Game Boy told Steve, and Steve dropped to a crouch let him put it on his head. He bit his lips as he turned to watch Hook Possum, bedecked in a flower crown and carrying a bouquet.
“There aren’t rings,” Robin whispered. “I got Sesame Street band-aids. Bert and Ernie.” It occurred to Steve suddenly, his cheeks heating at the actual care she’d put into it, that it might be on him, some day, to organize a more serious kind of wedding for her and her...someone. He bit his lip, trying not to think about how silly it all was, with Hook Possum moving away.
At least nearly everyone he knew had been at camp, he thought, watching Hook Possum bump blindly into the chairs, and listening to a bunch of off-tempo children earnestly try to produce ‘Here Comes The Bride’ on kazoo. They sounded like a lot of wet bees, mostly. At least Dustin would know what Steve was talking about, when he mentioned Hook Possum six times a sentence, or turned to grin at him, and then realized he wasn’t there.
Hook Possum drew closer—Pink Overalls had just grabbed his hand, finally, and hauled him along, and Steve wondered why he was having so much trouble seeing. It was drizzly, and gray, but it wasn’t dark. Pink Overalls threw flowers at Steve’s face, then at Hook Possum’s, and stepped back.
Steve wondered, as ever, what she thought was happening.
“Friends and campers gathered here today,” Dustin began, but Steve didn’t really listen to the vows. He’d slid his finger through Hook Possum’s handcuff, and the friendship bracelet, and his hand was shaking a little.
“Are you seriously okay with this,” he breathed, leaning close to Steve’s head. “This—this is—”
“Ssssshhhh,” Dustin groaned. “Where are the rings?”
“We’ll just wrap it around Hook Possum’s paw and he can put it on later,” Robin decided, and Steve wrapped it around Hook Possum’s furry-gloved finger. It felt really... weddingy, when Hook Possum (with Robin’s help) unwrapped the Bert-and-Ernie bandaid and wrapped it around Steve’s finger. Steve took his paw and squeezed it, wondering what he’d agreed to.
“To love and to cherish, so long as you both shall live?” Robin asked, her eyes steady, and Steve kind of wanted to run, dreading Hook Possum laughing.
“...I do,” he whispered.
“I do too,” Steve said quickly, grabbing Hook Possum’s other paw, and squeezing that one too.
“You may kiss the bride,” announced Dustin, and Steve leaned in and smacked a kiss on the mask, listening to the startled laughter of the man inside.
After that, in the first raindrops, Robin sent the kids to get their packed bags. “The buses will be here in twenty minutes!” she yelled, stomping off, and Steve pulled back from hugging Hook Possum as hard as he could.
“I have to take the costume off,” Hook Possum whispered. “It’s starting to rain.”
It hadn’t rained for the whole three weeks of camp, not during the day, and it felt like a sign camp was truly over. Steve nodded, squeezing the dirty old costume paws in his hands, and wondering about the human inside them.
“He said you could kiss the bride,” Hook Possum said in kind of a weird choked voice, standing perfectly still, and Steve froze.
“You...saying I can see you?” he whispered back, as the rain started to penetrate his hair, cold against his head.
“...I’m saying I’m taking it off,” Hook Possum hissed, dragging Steve back towards the cabin. “Don’t look. But, uh. If—if you—he said you could kiss the bride, so—”
“I want to,” Steve told him, panting as they ran. “I want to, I do.”
“Okay,” Hook Possum laughed, kind of unevenly. “Yeah.”
Steve helped him get out of the damn costume for the last time, untying the little cords slowly, and sliding the warm, wet, musty fabric down Hook Possum’s muscular shoulders. As a show of good faith, he opened Robin’s luggage and took out one of her kneesocks, and wrapped it around his eyes. That done, he ran his hands down Hook Possum’s arms to find his bracelet and cuff, and a warm, strong hand to run his fingers over. He did the same on the other side, finding that Hook Possum hadn’t put the band-aid on.
“Lemme do it right,” Steve asked, and Hook Possum stilled. Steve fiddled blindly with the little tabs, but he got it on there, and slid their fingers together. “...they fit nice,” he said softly, and Hook Possum sighed. “Lemme take your mask off,” Steve tried next, and Hook Possum let him, let him slide his hands up over the pulse pounding in Hook Possum’s neck, and lift the mask away, before running his thumb over a stubbly jaw, and sliding his fingers into soft, sweaty curls.
Hook Possum stepped away. “Just let me get my feet out,” he whispered.
Steve stood there with a sock around his head for a long second, feeling stupid, when warm, chapped lips met his. Hook Possum’s breath was shaky.
“...gonna miss you,” Steve told him, as soon as he could draw breath, licking his lips, and Hook Possum made a little grunty whining noise in the back of his throat, and kissed him again. “We’re married now,” Steve told him. “You aren’t gonna run out on me, are you?”
“...this was never real,” Hook Possum said, his voice cracking, and Steve nodded once, his eyes stinging, and walked out. He yanked the sock off his head and blinked up at the rain, then yelped as Hook Possum dragged him back against the side of the cabin, the rain slicking up their hands and faces as they kissed again. “I wish it was real,” Hook Possum whispered.
“Give me your phone number, at least,” Steve whispered, kissing the warm, soft mouth against his. “Your name?!”
“...sorry,” Hook Possum muttered, pulling away. “Don’t look.”
Steve didn’t. He stood there in the rain for five entire minutes. His shoulders shook because of the warm Indiana summer rain, and for no other reason.
“He’ll meet you at the diner,” Max’s voice said, as Steve was paying for a stack of frozen TV dinners at Bradley’s Big Buy, and skateboarded off, without telling Steve when, so he yelled incoherently after her and drove to the diner. He ordered coffee as his TV dinners slowly defrosted in his car, and watched the door, then, finally, when the waitress wouldn’t go away, he ordered pie. It was really good, he thought distractedly, chomping bites of lemon meringue as he stared through the door at the parking lot.
Three hours—and a lot of pie—later, Billy Hargrove pulled up in front, and Steve made a face, wondering if he dared risk running to the bathroom. Billy lingered outside, cleaning his windshield wipers, and checking under the hood, blocking Steve’s view of everyone else who might drive up, and in his annoyance, Steve failed to notice he’d received and finished another refill on his coffee, and the bathroom question was becoming desperate.
He pressed his knees together, glancing at the clock, and gritting his teeth.
Billy glanced in, saw Steve, and stopped, watching him like he still kinda wanted to beat his teeth in, or something. Steve knocked back half a mug of coffee in sheer annoyance, and then glowered down at it, mentally apologizing to his bladder.
The door creaked open, and Steve jerked to attention, nearly knocking his latest empty pie plate off the counter with his elbow, but it was just Billy, slouching, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. He was tugging at his cuff, one hand stuffed in his pocket.
“Harrington,” he said, and Steve nodded, trying to see past him through the door. Billy huffed a laugh. “...you got a hot date?” he asked, and Steve nearly said yes, but then thought what it would look like, when a man showed up.
“None of your beeswax,” he said tiredly, wishing Max had said when. “Hey,” he called to the waitress. “How early d’you open in the morning?”
“We’re open five o’clock in the morning to eleven o’clock at night,” she said, and Steve winced, hoping Hook Possum showed up before, like, tomorrow afternoon. He had visions of himself keeping vigil for days, glutting himself on pie, and sleeping in the parking lot.
Billy turned and stalked back out, shaking his head, and Steve decided to risk the bathroom. He sprinted back out to see the parking spot in front empty, and sat back down, opening the pie menu.
“Your friend left,” said the waitress.
“What?!” Steve said, jerking his head around to the door. “Just now?!”
“The boy with the shirt and jacket made of blue jeans,” she said, cocking her head like Billy’s fashion sense was annoying, which to be fair, it was.
“Oh,” Steve said, deflating.
“He came back and asked how long you’d waited. If you’d said anything about who you were waiting for,” she said, eyeing him narrowly, and Steve blinked back at her.
Max’s voice suddenly sounded in his head again. Uh, he lives on my street. She’d sounded hesitant, which was very unlike Max.
He’s the big brother I never had, she’d said, and Steve had assumed that couldn’t be Billy.
You’re the son of the boss’s boss?! He heard again, in Hook Possum’s raspy, high-pitched tones. You could get me fired.
“...Billy,” Steve said aloud.
“Is this some kind of Shop Around The Corner thing? I love that movie.” the waitress asked, as Steve scrambled for his wallet, thinking about Billy’s curls, and how he’d been afraid of Steve seeing him with the mask off, even once they were friends. “Was he supposed to carry a certain book or something? Were you penpals?” she asked idly, leaning on the counter. “You should probably go talk to him, if you can walk, after all that pie.”
“He’s moving to California,” Steve said, shoving a wad of cash at her without bothering to count it, and running out to his car.
“Good luck!” she called after him. “Idiot,” he thought he heard, and his cheeks burned.
When he pulled up to the Hargrove house, it wasn’t lit up. He ran around to Max’s window—he knew where that was, from driving Dustin and Lucas around—and tossed a pinecone at it. After a few thudded into the glass, the blinds shot up, and she glowered out, then glared down at him, yanking the window up. “The hell are you doing here?!” she hissed.
“Billy’s Hook Possum,” Steve stage-whispered back at her, cupping his face. “Isn’t he?”
She frowned harder, glancing over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?!”
“Come let me in,” Steve told her, and she shook her head.
“He’s not home! Did you miss him?! God, you’re such morons—”
“Where’s his room?” Steve hissed back, and she pointed, leaning out.
“He left like an hour ago,” she shot back, waving at the road. “We’d hear his car.”
“Let me in, I’ll wait for him,” Steve whispered up, and she groaned, leaning her head against the wood of the window.
“Fine,” she said, slamming it shut. A few minutes later, the window next to it opened, and Max’s head poked out. “Get up here,” she said. “And be quiet, you’ll get him in trouble, his dad’s watching the ballgame.”
“Okay,” Steve said, gauging the jump to the windowsill.
He wasn’t graceful, but he made it in, kicking off the siding and getting an arm inside. He clambered in with Max’s help, and looked around in the refracted light from the streetlamps. Everything was in boxes. “...when’s he leaving,” Steve asked, his throat tight.
“He was gonna leave today, but I got him to meet you at the diner,” Max growled. “What happened?!”
“He didn’t say anything, he just left,” Steve groaned, his eye catching on something over on the mirrored dresser thingy. He squinted in the dim light, leaning in—and he was right, it was the flower crown Hook Possum had worn for their ‘marriage’. The flowers were wilted, their petals crumbly in his hands, and Steve leaned to smell them, remembering.
He shivered, trying not to laugh, because he was right, Billy Hargrove was Hook Possum, and now everything was even more complicated. Billy Hargrove hates me, Steve thought, bewildered. He HATES me, he nearly beat my face in.
“That’s his car,” Max said, staring at nothing, and then Steve could hear it, through the open window.
“I just need to talk to him,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, you fucking do,” she muttered, slamming the door on her way out.
Alone in Billy’s room, Steve wandered around, squinting at the couple of posters still on the wall. He found the light switch, and leaned against the wall near it as footsteps came down the hall, and the doorknob turned.
Steve waited until Billy shut the door and wandered over to the window before flipping on the light, and Billy yelled.
“Holy cross eyed jesus, Harrington,” he panted, staring. “What—why—”
“You’re Hook Possum,” Steve said. “Right?”
“What,” Billy said, backing away. He had his arms up like he wanted to fight, but as Steve stepped closer he just flinched back, his head and shoulders thudding against the wall. Steve could see a glint against his denim cuff, and grabbed his wrist, sliding a finger down inside.
“My friendship bracelet,” he said, feeling too relieved for a true smirk. “...and you still haven’t gotten this handcuff off?!” he asked, sliding the clinking metal up Billy’s wrist.
“Looks kinda rad, don’t you think,” Billy whispered, swallowing. “Why’re you here, Harrington?”
“You’re Hook Possum,” Steve said again, running his fingers along the soft skin on the underside of Billy’s wrist, under the cuff and the friendship bracelet.
Billy watched his face, licking his lips, and Steve remembered how it’d felt kissing him. He’d kissed Billy Hargrove, he thought, his brain stumbling to a halt as it reorganized Steve’s memories to fit the new facts.
“What happens now,” Billy asked, and Steve let him go, stepping back as he remembered nothing had actually changed.
“...you’re moving to California,” Steve said, looking around at the boxes. “I—I guess I can send postcards now. Now I know the big secret.” It was almost worse, knowing more about Hook Possum, and having to watch him leave.
“...you’re not pissed,” Billy asked, raising his eyebrows, and Steve considered, and then shook his head.
It was hard to imagine being angry at Hook Possum, even if Hook Possum was Billy Hargrove. “Nah,” Steve said, stalking over to sit on the bed. “Thanks, uh, thanks for meeting me. I guess. I know you didn’t want to see me again.” He’d thought Hook Possum liked him, which was stupid, he realized. “I should go, huh.”
“I didn’t know you’d be there, at the camp,” Billy said, laughing. He sounded tense. “I thought I was getting away from Hawkins.”
Max knew, Steve thought, remembering planning with Dustin and everyone. “Yeah. I figured.”
“You wishing you didn’t know, now?” Billy asked, with another laugh, sitting in the window, and gripping the sill with white knuckles.
“...no,” Steve said, honestly. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been this...wary distance.
“You want your friendship bracelet back?” Billy sneered, and Steve just shook his head, and got up to leave out the door, if Billy was gonna block the window. The eight slices of pie were roiling in his stomach with probably two whole pots of coffee, and he felt like he might throw up. “Harrington, fuck, wait,” Billy growled, pushing himself up to stalk over and hold the door shut. “Why’d you come over here,” he hissed, his low register all Billy Hargrove, who’d beaten Steve unconscious.
“I don’t know,” Steve said, laughing, a little, because Hook Possum had been right. Summer camp wasn’t the real world, and he wasn’t married to a magic possum. He yanked on the doorknob, but Billy leaned his weight against the door, watching his face.
“Do you still want me,” Billy asked, grabbing Steve’s arm.
Steve wanted to get out of the conversation, and he almost dodged the question with a what do you mean, or a I have to go, but Billy’s hand was warm on his skin, and nervously sweaty.
Steve nodded.
Billy made a noise in his throat, kind of a strangled choke, and grabbed him, yanking him into a clumsy kiss, all teeth, because he was laughing. “You’ll make me another friendship bracelet, right,” he said breathlessly, like it was important, and Steve nodded, losing track of what was going on. He ran his finger along Billy’s wrist, and hooked it around the friendship bracelet/cuff accessory, and Billy kissed him again, leaning in. “If—if I’m here, you’ll make me another one.”
“Yeah,” Steve agreed, dizzy with kisses.
“Make us rings,” Billy whispered, smiling so wide his kisses were a little wet against Steve’s cheek, and ear. Steve’s bones creaked from how hard Billy was squeezing him.
“...can’t believe you haven’t taken the handcuff off,” Steve whispered, against Billy’s jaw. “...god, I hope nobody ever asks how we met. Stay out of the trash.”
Billy snorted a laugh, leaning his face into Steve’s neck with a sigh, and then pressing soft kisses up it, so Steve started having wild thoughts about Billy’s mattress, five feet away. “Y’know,” Billy said softly, “I kinda hope they do ask, actually. You ashamed of your magical...haunted possum...girlfriend?”
“God I missed you,” Steve said, snorting a laugh. His vision blurred with tears.
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harringrovebigbang · 4 years ago
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The Project Team Masterlist
Project 1
TeenCaterpillar  - writing MonsdaSarah (twitter) - art Catharrington (ao3 / twitter) - moodboard
Project 2
peterqpan (tumblr) - writing Faevorite-main-blog (ao3) - art
Project 3
The_BookDragon (tumblr) - writing jujub-doesart (ao3) - art wingedbears (twitter) - moodboard draculcid (ao3 / twitter) - playlist
Project 4
The_BookDragon (tumblr) - writing Cavahn (twitter) - art
Project 5
inachusorpheus (twitter / instagram) - writing Catharrington (ao3 / twitter) - moodboard shewritesdirty (ao3)  - playlist
Project 7
Pondermoniums (ao3) - writing opaldraws (ao3) - art
Project 8
peterqpan (tumblr) - writing draculcid (ao3 / twitter) - playlist
Project 9
ej_writer (tumblr) - writing monochromegee (ao3)  - art shewritesdirty (ao3)  - playlist  - moodboard
Project 10
HeckinaHandbasket (twitter / instagram / ao3) - writing sasha-uria (twitter / instagram) - art shewritesdirty (ao3)  - moodboard
Project 11
rascheln (ao3) - writing sasha-uria (twitter / instagram) - art memes-saved-me (ao3) - moodboard
Project 12
edith-moonshadow (ao3) - writing HeckinaHandbasket (twitter / instagram / ao3) - art
Project 13
fluffmonsterc3 - writing Simplelittleartist (instagram) - art
Project 14
imperfectabstraction - writing blackmoonspell - art
Project 15
celoica (ao3) - writing peachesnplummet (twitter) - art
Project 16
boltplumart (ao3 / twitter) - writing avalonlights (twitter / instagram) - art
Project 17
gothyringwald (ao3) - writing opaldraws (ao3) - art
Project 18 
hoppnhorn (ao3) - writing ichigata (twitter) - art
Project 19
melodramaticsalad (ao3 / twitter) - writing opaldraws (ao3) - art
Project 20
dulcepericulum (keziahrain) - writing juu-riin (twitter) - art
Project 21
Dee_in_between - writing foksydoodle (twitter) - art
Project 22
ohmybgosh (ao3) - writing Catharrington (ao3 / twitter) - moodboard shewritesdirty (ao3)  - playlist
Project 23
peterqpan (tumblr) - writing MonsdaSarah (twitter) - art
Project 24
paperbodiesamongthestars (ao3) - writing thedogsled (ao3 / twitter) - art peachesnplummet (twitter) - moodboard
Project 25
peachypunk - writing blackmoonspell - art Catharrington (ao3 / twitter) - moodboard
Project 26
kirah69 (ao3) - writing kishock-harpoon (ao3) - art
Project 27
Catharrington (ao3 / twitter) - writing draculcid (ao3 / twitter) - moodboard harringrovess (twitter) - playlist
Project 28
magniloquent-raven (ao3) - writing peachypunk - moodboard shewritesdirty (ao3) - playlist
Project 29
chika-the-terrible (ao3) - writing memes-saved-me (ao3) - moodboard
Project 30
honeydewmelo (ao3) - writing wingedbears (twitter) - moodboard harringrovess (twitter) - playlist
Project 31
sh1tbird-shantytown (ao3) - writing cavahn (twitter) - art
Project 32
prettyboyporter (ao3 / twitter) - writing avalonlights (twitter / instagram) - art
Project 33
razzapplemagic (ao3 / twitter) - writing HeckinaHandbasket (twitter / instagram / ao3) - art
Project 34
thedogsled (ao3 / twitter) - writing 1jet2unknown (ao3 / twitter / instagram)
Project 35
Stralia_Harker - writing harringrovess (twitter) - moodboard wingedbears (twitter) - playlist
Project 36
inthelonelycoolbeforedawn (ao3) - writing wingedbears (twitter) - moodboard
Project 38
yikesharringrove (ao3) - writing thedogsled (ao3 / twitter) - art memes-saved-me (ao3) - moodboard
Project 39
xllecaightwood - writing foksydoodle (twitter) - art
((Please let us know if there are any incorrect and/or dead links so that we may fix them!))
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harringrovebigbang · 4 years ago
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Reminder About Check-Ins
Hey guys! Just a reminder that, as when you signed up for the Big Bang to keep in contact with the Big Bang mod team, check-ins are mandatory for EVERY CREATOR! These were due yesterday, 6/11.
From the Guidelines: 
Everyone is expected, once they sign up, to communicate! That means keeping in contact with the Big Bang mod team when they send out check-ins, and keeping in contact with your creative team. These activities are mandatory.
If you do not respond to a check-in or if your team is having issues with contacting or communicating with you, you can be considered MIA and your role can be reassigned to another creator or pinch-hitter. We will reach out to you at the email and social media you list only once if there are communication issues; we will not be chasing you down to participate in this event.
We had about 2/3 of our creators respond to the first check-in. Please check the email that you signed up with to ensure that you have received the check-in form. 
You may respond to it late, and the due date will be extended through next weekend, 6/19.
And, as another reminder, the second check-in is due 7/3; if you have not responded to this check-in and do not respond to the next one, you will be considered MIA.
If you’ve responded to your check-in, please remind your team to do the same!
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harringrovebigbang · 4 years ago
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HBB Pinch-Hitters Wanted!
ALL ROLES ARE OPEN! Find the form to sign-up HERE.
Q: What’s a pinch-hitter?
A: Pinch-hitters are people who will fill in last minute if someone in the process drops out, fails to check in, or otherwise stops communicating with the creative team. If a creator drops out, or fails to check-in twice in a row / stops communicating with their writer/artist/moodboard creator/playlist creator, we will assume they have dropped out and will assign a pinch-hitter to fill the missing pot.
Please note that you may or may not be matched to a project based on both need and a first-come-first-served basis. If you signed up to be a pinch-hitter too late and all the author roles have been filled, you may not be assigned to a project.
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