#probably i will end up doing a wip wednesday in a couple days

[fischlcatgirl]

currently writing a fic where i will definitely want to know the unreconciled stars lore for it but like. i was like three patches late for unreconciled stars. i already have seen the Cooler Scaramouche. i dont want to go try and look for a video of someone playing through the event story from like 1 million years ago. EVEN if it means seeing fischl. like PLEASE i havent even played the new archon quest because im too busy doing things like having a job and being on tumblr. i dont have time to go back and catch up on the sky is fake hour i just want to write about terrible things happening to the characters i love and klee blowing people up

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 6

The sequel is coming along great I just have one more part to do and it'll be done. Sweet Home Indiana is nearing its end too.

Heads up! I will be going on vacation on Tuesday and won't be back until next week. So no WIP Wednesday this week as that is the day of my niece's graduation and I will be away from laptop all day.

I will still be uploading chapters and should be able to do WIP Wednesday next week. But if not I'll let you know.

In this we have the Corroded Coffin boys being silly and a wild Dustin appears.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

****

Eddie rolled up to band practice fashionably late as always. The other three boys were doing a sound check and making sure everything was in order.

Gareth looked up first. “Did you bring the hearts?” he asked excitedly.

Eddie held up his bag and the other boys cheered.

“So how are we going to do this?” Eddie asked flopping on the sofa after gently setting his sweetheart to the side. “Do we want to do the hearts first or practice first?”

They all look around at each for a moment.

“Let’s get the heart thing out of the way,” Jeff suggested, “get it out of the way so we can focus on practicing.”

“Sounds good to me, man,” Gareth said. “In case practice runs over or some shit.”

Eddie pulled his backpack closer and began digging through it. He pulled out the hearts that he’d put in a plastic baggie so they wouldn’t get bent in the maw that was his bag.

He tossed the bag onto the table in front of them and then dug around for his notebook. He pulled it out with a bunch of pens.

“You don’t have to,” he murmured, “but I’d recommend changing up your handwriting a couple of times so he doesn’t realize they’re from the same four people.”

“We were doing anonymous and initials, right?” Brian asked, picking up the bag and opening it up.

Eddie lit up, a huge smile on his face. “I actually had an idea about that. I was thinking of famous groups with four dudes in it and I thought it would be hilarious if we mixed it up a bit with some of those to avoid the whole repetition thing.”

Jeff licked his top lip. “Show us what you’ve got,” he said jutting out his chin.

He opened up his notebook and flipped to the right page. “Alright, so I was thinking the Three Musketeers plus D’Artagnan.”

“Who would be who?” Gareth asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Gareth is absolutely D’Artagnan,” Brian said without hesitation. “No question.”

Jeff straightened up and looked over at him in confusion. “Why’s that?”

“Because my dearest Jeffy,” Eddie said with a grin, “because he’s the youngest and not an original member. Therefore D’Artagnan.”

Gareth and Brian glanced at each. Brian shrugged and Gareth blinked a moment or two before he shrugged, too.

“Yeah, that tracks.”

“I’ll take Aramis,” Eddie said with a grin. “The smooth talker with religious trauma.”

The other boys just cackled.

“I’ll be Porthos,” Brian said. “The compulsive liar with a flare for the dramatic.”

“Why am I left with the dude with serious romantic wo–” Jeff stopped. “Right, scratch that. I’m Athos.”

They cackled again. Eddie had had some wild crushes, but it was nothing on Jeff. He even had a slightly tragic love story. He’d actually dated Vicki Carmichael before she became a popular kid and hanging out with Steve’s crowd. They had both loved metal music, but Jeff was pretty sure she stopped listening to it once she joined the cool kids.

“And I have a list of other ones too,” Eddie said breaking into the resulting silence. “The four winds from Greek mythology. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...um...let’s see...” he looked at the notebook again. “The members of Metallica. The four horsemen of the apocalypse–”

Jeff winced. “Probably not that one, man. It’s for Valentine’s day and that kinda screams the opposite.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment and then scratched out that idea. “Fair enough.”

“The four hobbits from Lord of the Rings?” Gareth suggested.

“Yes!” Brian cried. “I get to be Samwise!”

Jeff cackled. “Gareth and Eddie are sooo Merry and Pippin!”

“Oh god! Yes! Which one is which, though?” Brian said joining in the laughter.

“I’m Merry, of course,” Eddie said proudly. “I’m the instigator and Gareth goes where I lead.”

Gareth grumped in the corner, crossing his arms and glaring at all of them. “But that makes Jeff Frodo though.”

Jeff straightened up, smug. “I could handle that.”

Eddie shook his head at his friends. “All right, also on my list are the Ghostbusters and The A-Team.”

The other boys shook their heads at either suggestion but they had a pretty good list anyway. Plus their D&D names sprinkled in here and there and they’ve got in the bag.

They spent the next half hour coming up with nice things about Steve. Eddie did have nix a couple of their ideas because they came off as stalker-esque. Which was not the look they were going for.

****

To say that Eddie got a kick out of seeing Steve light up every time he opened his locker and more pink hearts fluttered out of it was an understatement.

The goofy smile the former jock got on his face was worth every second of the time they’d spent on the project.

And it was working, too. That was the really impressive part.

Even Tommy H. was baffled.

“How the hell are you getting so many pink hearts, Harrington?” he said on Friday, just four days into Eddie’s plan.

Steve shrugged in that dorky way that made Eddie’s heart stop. “I guess people are deciding to hell with social constructs and stupid cliques and are telling me even if they don’t dare to be open about that they still like me.”

Tommy’s mouth open and closed like a goldfish then he turned around and stormed off.

Eddie lean against the lock above Steve. “Back to being king again, huh, Stevie?”

“Not really,” he said, closing his locker and standing up. “Most of them are anonymous or fake names. But there are a few that real names.”

“You think someone is stuffing the ballot box as it were?” Eddie asked, worried the jig was up.

Steve shook his head. “At least I don’t think so. But it’s sad that they think they have to hide who they are to tell me that they still think I’m a cool dude or whatever.”

“For what it’s worth,” Eddie said, pushing off from the locker, “I think you’re a pretty cool dude.”

Steve blushed and mumbled his thanks.

God, did Eddie just want to bite those flushed cheeks. They were just too cute.

“It’s worth a lot, actually,” Steve whispered. He stood up and shouldered his backpack. “Catch you later, Eds.”

Shit that little nickname had Eddie’s heart doing overtime.

****

Steve was outside the middle school waiting for Dustin to come out. His mom had asked Steve to pick him because she had to stay after hours at work for a meeting.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he hummed to the music in his head. He could have turned on the radio but Dustin hated his music didn’t like him blaring it for the whole school to hear.

His eyes kept flicking to the rearview mirror to see his backpack on the backseat. He wanted to go over the ones he got today. There had been some really good ones. Ones that melted his insides and turned them to goo.

He bit his lip and checked the mirror again. He looked at his watch and he still had a couple minutes until the bell rang.

Steve whirled around and grabbed the bag. He ripped it open and pulled out his trapper keeper. Tucked in the front pocket were the hearts. He ran his fingers over the outline the hearts made on the plastic pocket.

He pulled out the hearts and read over each one. Tracing the names of the givers, thinking about each name and wondering where they were from.

There was a thump on his window startling him. He looked up to see Dustin making faces at him through the glass.

Steve shook his head and unlocked the passenger door to let the twerp in.

“Looking at pink hearts, Steve?” Dustin asked with the shake of his head. “So pathetic.”

Steve rolled his eyes and tried to put the hearts back in the folder, but Dustin snatched them from him and wouldn’t let him take them back.

“Come on, man!” Steve whined. “They’re none of your business.”

“I want to see which girls are giving the Steve Harrington Valentine’s hearts,” Dustin said, wagging his eyebrows.

“Dude, give it up,” he growled. “The pink hearts are friendship hearts, the red ones are the romantic ones. So give it back.”

The younger teen cocked his head to the side and said, “No.”

Steve folded his arms and glared at him.

“Aren’t you going to take me home?” Dustin asked after they sat in silence for a minute or two.

“Not until you give them back.”

Dustin just shrugged. “It’s your funeral if we get home after my mom does.”

Steve threw his arms in the air, but turned the engine and started the car toward the Hendersons.

“These are actually really sweet, Steve,” Dustin said after a couple of minutes. “I like the idea of friendship hearts. That way you don’t accidentally send the wrong message.”

Steve just shrugged.

“You do know that some of these are fake names, right?”

Steve rolled his eyes and dared to look over at him. “Yes, of course I do. I am familiar with D’Artagnan after you named a fucking demodog after him, thanks.”

Dustin cocked his head to the side and then shrugged. “That’s fair. What you probably don’t know is that Aramis, Porthos, and Athos are the names of the Three Musketeers.”

Steve pursed his lips and nodded. “That’s cool.” They hit a stop sign and Steve looked over and pulled out one. “What about this one? Tommy H. thinks it’s short for Kassie, but none of the girls at our school spell it like that.”

Dustin took the heart and looked at it. “Kas. Kas. Yeah, okay. That does sound familiar. Can I get back to you on that one?”

“Sure thing, bud.”

Steve pulled up to curb to let Dustin out. “You got your key? If you don’t, you can hang out with me until your mom gets home.”

Dustin began rummaging around in his bag and Steve snatched the hearts away before he could bend them.

The kid pulled out his keys with a triumphant, “Eureka!”

Steve shook his head. “You are such a dweeb. Go on, get.”

“Bye, Steve!”

“Next time say thank you, asshole!” Steve called out the window.

Dustin turned around and gave him the double middle finger.

Steve shook his head and drove off. Why he loved that kid, he had no idea.

When he got home he pulled out the little notebook and placed the pink hearts in with the rest. All but the one from Kas. Those he kept in his wallet. He really couldn’t place why. There was just something about what they said that made him feel warm and not in the fuzzy friendship way that the others did.

There was the first one:

-Stevie I like the way you’re kind even when it doesn’t benefit you. Kas

Which Steve loved but the others were just as sweet.

-Stevie You have a great laugh, you don’t have to hide it. Kas

-Stevie That shirt today really brings out the color in your eyes. Kas

And Steve’s personal favorite:

-Stevie Each day is brighter because you’re in it. Kas

There was one for each day he got hearts in his locker so he assumed it was all the same person.

He slid it next to the other three hearts in the billfold portion of his wallet and put the wallet next to his keys on his desk. Then he put the little notebook back, careful to make sure it was well hidden.

He wasn’t sure what his dad would do about the mementos but Steve really didn’t want to find out.

He was really going to miss getting the hearts over the weekend. They really had become the highlight of his day.

He sighed and buckled down to work on his homework. It wasn’t as though he had anything better to do with his time. He wasn’t invited to any parties, he didn’t have friends to hang out with, and the people who would hang with him were fourteen year olds and they all had bedtimes.

He briefly thought about calling Eddie, but the guy had friends, unlike Steve and was probably doing something with them. Probably that nerd game that Eddie had a club for.

He buried his head in his hands.

Steve sighed. Fuck his life was depressing as shit.

With another sigh, he resigned himself to another lonely weekend.

****

Part 7 Part 8

Tag List: CLOSED

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @slv-333 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi

@val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @vecnuthy

@irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee

@awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76

@scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @fullpoetrybread

@disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @moonshadows-13 @skyewaytohell

@swimmingbirdrunningrock @croatoan-like-its-hot @lolawonsstuff @lololol-1234 @dotdot-wierdlife

@ravenfrog @dauntlessdiva @thelittleclare @steddieyourself @dam28lh

[blackberrysummerblog]

Hi all! I’m just out here being three weeks late with my 2024 Writing Round-Up, and thank you so much to @monbons, @forabeatofadrum, @confused-bi-queer, @rimeswithpurple, @nausikaaa, @prettygoododds, @ileadacharmedlife, @artsyunderstudy, @best--dress, @j-nipper-95, @roomwithanopenfire, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @imagineacoolusername, @mooncello, and @thewholelemon for tagging me! I hope I didn’t miss anyone, and thank you as well to everyone who’s been tagging me for Six Sentence Sunday and WIP Wednesday this month. Without getting too much into it, I am BURNT. OUT, and it’s making me retreat from even the things I enjoy the most, like writing and catching up on everyone’s beautiful fandom works.

But, I’m determined to make this round-up post, even if it takes me a couple of days to put together. There’s a lot here! Almost all of it was from COC, which I was hellbent on finishing this year, and did! Here’s the list, in chronological order, of all published writing for 2024:

The Field Trap, 1/2 (5272, M) This has been sitting unfinished for a bit, but I do anticipate it being completed. I discovered a real love for Watford-era fics toward the end of the past year, but it probably all began for me two years ago when I wrote Field Trip of Dreams, the prequel to Field Trap. At any rate, I haven’t forgotten the fic, and Field Trap may end up with an E rating in the second chapter.

Time Will Lie Down and Be Still (26,201, M) This is the fic I’m most proud of this year. It’s the result of my COBB collab with @rimeswithpurple, and it’s been such an inspiration to work with Arianna! I highly recommend the experience :D This fic has 3/5 chapters published so far, and I’m getting there with the 4th. I’ll share that Arianna finished the art for Chapter 4 the other day and it is STUNNING, so I need to get my part done! For anyone who doesn’t know, the fic is a retelling of the movie Practical Magic (I’ve never been able to get very far in the book, for whatever reason, so I wouldn’t count on the fic lining up with it). This one is close to my heart for many reasons, but I’ve especially enjoyed building Dev’s character and his relationship with Baz.

Absolutely everything else I published was for COC, and I’ll put it below a cut due to length. Thanks to everyone who read my work this year! As always, the output of this fandom is just incredible, and I’ve enjoyed being able to take it in as well as contribute a little myself. Happy New Year, everyone!

Something Old (1146, T) Simon finds something unexpected while clearing out space in the wardrobe.

Chosen (880, G) Agatha and Simon have just begun dating and Philippa attempts to engage her in a little friendly roommate squee. Agatha isn’t quite so sure.

I Hate You, Never Leave Me (2339, M) Simon and Baz have found a new and better way to settle their differences, by getting each other off all over campus. Will it evolve into anything more, however? (I love this one, honestly. Might have to someday write a more extensive version)

Greek (1565, T) Simon has to keep a very close eye on Baz in Greek class, for reasons.

Let Me See You (1205, T) Simon is the one to find Baz draining a deer in the forest instead of Agatha. His reaction is not what either of them was expecting.

Truth or Dare (2608, T) Does what it says on the tin—the gang play a game of Truth or Dare, and the dares reveal a little more truth than anyone expected. (Definitely not a groundbreaking take on the prompt, but I never really tire of reading truth or dare fics, and hoped readers would feel the same :P)

Gently, Gently (668, M) Simon and Baz spend the morning in bed, skiving off class and not regretting it at all. (I came to realize that an embarrassing number of fics I write either start out with the boys waking up in bed or that is the entire premise of the fic. “Waking up” is a weird fetish to have, but OK me, I guess)

Looking for Knives, Looking for You (1181, T) Baz reflects on all the wounds he and Simon have given each other over the years. (Despite the vicious sounding title and depressing summary, this one was meant to be sort of cute and sweet)

Hold You Safe (1015, G) At the start of Eighth Year, Dev and Niall’s relationship is still very new as they get some bad news from home.

Dinner (Guess Who’s Coming) (3525, T) It’s half term, and Baz’s parents want to take him to dinner. They invite him to bring a friend, but unfortunately for Malcolm, he pisses Baz off first, and Baz decides his guest will be Simon—the Mage’s heir, his family’s mortal enemy, and Baz’s undying secret crush. (As with nearly all my COC offerings this year, this fic was knocked out during my lunch break the day of, and it shows. It really could have stood to be longer and more developed, so maybe I’ll revisit it one day, since I did like the premise)

Stay with Me (878, T) It’s Eighth Year and Simon gets home late and injured from a mission. Baz arrives at a resolution. (I was a little baffled to get a comment about the Mage already being dead, since this fic takes place during the school year and makes mention of a very much alive Mage in multiple places. It was more of a statement than a criticism though, I think.)

A Charmed Life (1449, E) Baz and Simon have an utterly normal morning getting frisky in bed. (Again. Huh.)

A Horse Named Jane (736, T) Simon has that song stuck in his head again. The one Baz can’t stand. They work out a (sort of) compromise.

Sour and Sweet (3060, G) It’s Baz’s birthday and Agatha has just given Simon his walking papers. Oh no :P However, the breakup does little to lift Baz’s spirits. (This one has two chapters and filled two prompts, sour and sweet, natch. Chapter two’s summary is: Simon decides he needs to make something sweet for Baz’s birthday, even though he’s two days late and doesn’t know how to bake. Well, he’s got magic at his disposal, so things are sure to turn out just fine. :P)

Punk (828, T) Baz is making Simon join him for lunch with Fiona again, but Simon figures he’ll debut a new look & attitude. Will they actually make it to the restaurant? (I really enjoyed writing this one. Simon being frustrated with Fiona’s behavior and still being silly with Baz about it was just a happy place for me)

Surprise (733, M) Simon and Baz are engaging in one of their classic Mummers’ House tiffs. What will happen? :P (I did write a little surprise into this one, but it was very much in keeping with some of my favorite themes)

Cast in Fire (791, G) Simon comes to Watford and learns about how his roommate will be chosen.

Fluff and Nonsense (1627, T) The prompt is ‘fluff’ and did I once again take the opportunity to write a light-on-plot secret relationship fic about Watford-era Simon and Baz being cozy and silly in bed? Yeah, I might have. Simon is going home with Baz over the Christmas break. Not a lot going on here, they’re just really comfy and in love.

Pieces of Me (1557, M) Baz has been having nightmares. Simon comforts him and encourages him to open up.

The World Was Open (956, T) Agatha and Niamh attend Simon and Baz’s wedding, and Agatha overhears another guest making a snide remark.

Find Me (2374, M) Eighth year at Watford was unremarkable, and Simon and Baz last saw each other when they graduated. Seven months later, Dev and Niall drag a pining and protesting Baz out to a club for a night of drinking and dancing, but there’s a familiar face behind the bar. Simon Snow is serving drinks, and worse, he’s flirting with a Baz lookalike. What will happen :P (This was yet another fic that could have been developed a little more, but I was still happy with the result overall)

Warm Spell (1795, M) Goatherd Simon has been almost-encountering a beautiful stranger for several weeks now, but one hot summer day, they finally meet.

Lost and Found (575, G) The boys go shopping together and Baz temporarily loses Simon, but it’s all pretty plot-free :P

Truce (1101, M) Simon pesters Baz while he’s trying to study, and needs to learn a lesson. Will they be able to call a truce? (This one was where the trouble began—I changed my settings to allow comments from unregistered users, because I like to fuck around and find out, I suppose. And find out I did! Luckily, the rude comment I received took aim at some writing element that didn’t even make sense for this particular fic, and I quickly realized it was a bot. Not long after, I started getting comments on other fics as well, all very nonspecific to the fandom, characters, and genre. I’m so sorry because I know it upset a few readers who were very kind to clap back and reassure me, and I changed my settings back so that it wouldn’t happen again.)

Savour (1189, T) Simon has been away on one of his missions for the Mage, and Baz has been awaiting his return by leaving out plates of food in their room every night. (Bot’s review: “the worst fic in the fandom”. It’s not even the worst fic in my own oeuvre, so joke’s on you, guy XD)

We Were Always Together (2239, T) During cotillion class, Simon is forced to dance with Baz. The horror! (I flipping loved writing this. Full on had a blast and Would Write Again)

Let It Snow (925, M) It’s almost time for Christmas break at Watford, and it may not turn out as the boys planned. However, thanks to a spell gone wrong (or very right) it may yet work out for the best :P

Always (551, G) It’s Christmas Eve and Baz has just finished putting the kids to bed. Simon is putting the finishing touches on the Christmas tree.

Something New (990, T) Simon and Baz have a little tiff near the end of eighth year, but it’s not fated to last long. I’ve written a lot of secret!relationship Watford era fics for COC this year, some that could go together and some that were in separate universes. It’s been so much fun to write about the boys sneaking around, but this is…something new. :P (In which I was very pleased with myself for how I wrapped things up in accordance with the prompt. I really, really enjoyed COC this year :D)

Thanks for reading! I’m sure most everyone has already made their own round-up posts, but consider these no-pressure tags and hellos: @valeffelees @stardustasincocaine @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @c0nsumemy5oul @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @tender-ministrations @basiltonbutliketheherb @ghostpepperworld @larkral @letraspal @cows4247 @fiend-for-culture @palimpsessed @hushed-chorus @shrekgogurt @raenestee @cutestkilla @drowninginships @youarenevertooold @iamamythologicalcreature @beastmonstertitan @ic3-que3n @supercutedinosaurs @stitchy-queerista @alexalexinii @asocialpessimist @shutup-andletme-go @prettygoododds @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95 @wellbelesbian @bookishbroadwayandblind @orange-peony @papierhaikuphoto @martsonmars

[luins]

wip wednesday

a little break from all the spotify wrapped posting to share some of my writing. i've been working a lot on this for past week.

Something is up with Eddie. It’s driving Buck up the wall because he cannot figure out why Eddie is acting like this. He has been gathering evidence all morning to solve this mystery. 

1. Eddie was almost late today. 

Not actually late, because he did make it to the station well before the start of their shift. He was already there and changing into his uniform, in fact, when Buck stumbled into the locker room while simultaneously pulling his shirt over his head. (He had overslept because he went down a Wikipedia rabbit hole on orcas and their fashion trends last night after reading about salmon hats being back). 

By the time Buck had managed to wrangle out of his shirt, Eddie had stuck his head in his (their) locker like he was searching for something. Very intently. He stayed like that for so long that Buck finished changing and made it out of the locker room before him. 

2. Eddie kept spacing out during the morning briefing. 

This basically never happens unless he’s truly preoccupied with something. Usually, Eddie is extremely attentive, quite literally standing at attention with rigid military posture, probably still ingrained in him from his army days. But today, Buck had to nudge his boot against Eddie’s to startle him out of whatever thought he was caught up in when Bobby said his name and read out the chores he assigned to him. 

But the most incriminating piece of evidence was gathered before Buck even arrived at the firehouse, actually. 

3. Eddie used an emoji. 

And not just any emoji, no. It was a heart. This morning, Buck texted Eddie that he was running a little behind (in case Bobby asked) to which Eddie replied with, and Buck is not kidding: 

Okay. Will have a cup of coffee waiting for you. ❤️

Buck had stared at the heart for a good five minutes, probably, which had made him even more late. 

(In the end, Eddie did not have coffee waiting for him on account of taking forever in the locker room. The liar.) 

“Eddie is acting weird, right?” he asks Hen. He’s helping her restock the ambulance and she is holding very tightly onto the clipboard. Buck is not even allowed to look at it, all she’s letting him do is hand her the supplies she is asking for. 

Hen raises an eyebrow. “Weird how?” 

“I don’t know,” Buck whines and throws his hands up in frustration. The gauze in his hand flies halfway across the ambulance bay. He scrambles up to retrieve it before Hen has the chance to turn the full power of her glare onto him. 

“He’s just… being weird.” He drops the gauze in Hen’s outstretched hand. “Like, okay, he’s being quiet but he also isn’t. Not in the way he usually is when he just doesn’t want to talk about something. It’s more like– like he actually wants to say something but just doesn’t know how.” 

Hen considers this for a moment. 

“Why don’t you just ask him about it? If it’s bothering you that much.” 

If only it were that easy.

i'm just going to tag a couple of mutuals for them to see this - and of course also to share something if you guys have anything to share!! <3

@livingincolorsagain @queerprincesseddiediaz @eddiesbian @moonyslesbian @girldadbuckley @cafecitoeddie @4thbrighteststar @housewifebuck & if anyone else wants to share their wip please feel free to also tag me in it!!

[achromatophoric]

https://www.tumblr.com/museaway/746766290005508096?source=share

2,3,4,7,8,9,10,14,16,17,19,22,24,25,26,28

-🤔

[Warning: This is stupid long. Yikes.]

2. Character’s POV being explored:

Oops. My Incorrect Quotes don’t really have a POV. 😅 I think at most, I’ve explicitly removed a character from the end of a couple, to emphasize the joke through only the remaining character’s dialogue.

3. Feelings about current WIP:

I’m not happy with the end, so it might just sit there for a few more days until I figure it out.

4. Unwritten story idea:

I have a very rough outline of an actual fic! Future Wenclair, post college. It’s… super dark. Just a torrid angst spiral from Enid’s POV, where she begins to unwittingly choose her work and social life over her wolf and Wednesday, with terrible consequences.

I put it together last year, before I actually started writing anything. It’s unlikely to see the light of day, because I honestly don’t have the energy, attention span, and sequential periods of uninterrupted free time to try writing anything in long format. 😢 Maybe someday!

7. Preferred writing font:

Something san serif. I’d prefer one with a bit more letter spacing, but I’m stuck with Tumblr’s default font, Favorit-Tumblr.

8. If I had to sequel one:

Probably this old one, about Wednesday and her pet blog. I have ideas about reblogs and blog reproductive cycles.

9. Elapsed time for the last one:

Today’s took maybe 10-15 minutes from start to posting. I needed something short since I wanted to do my daily post before answering this Ask. My notes only read “Hard to swallow” and it basically wrote itself. It took just as long to find the right animated gif as it did to write it out. 😅

10. Longest rest for a draft before completion:

Intentional rest? I guess this one at 5-ish days, where the gang takes turns answering the question: What’s the best thing about dead bodies? I just wasn’t feeling the gang’s banter, so put off fiddling with it until it felt interesting again.

There’s normally scant delay between writing and posting. If I’m lucky, I might have 1 or 2 completed IQs waiting to be posted. I try to post at least 2 per day and I’m terrible at not posting one the moment it’s completed, so… yup. 😒

14. Inspiration source:

Primarily the fandom! I wouldn’t be able to write these if I hadn’t first read so many Wenclair fics that parodying the characters became possible. I really do rely on the community-created tropes and personalities to act as the skeleton upon which meaty puns are anchored.

16. Favorite place to write:

In my home office during work hours, where I can go mostly undisturbed, have a super comfy Steelcase Leap to relax in, music, and a tablet at the ready.

Yes, work hours. I tend to do my job quickly and well, but nothing gets those creative juices going better than having something else you should be doing. 😅

17. Writing and editing process:

Idea? Jot it down. Keep a list. Time to write? Check ideas. Pick one that looks fun. Write it. Nothing interesting? Uh. Do one of the following:

Look through animated gifs of dogs doing derpy things for wolf Enid (tedious AF)

Search idioms based on words that Wednesday can take too literally

Wonder what would piss off Bianca > Yoko > Weems > other character (ordered by favorite)

Think up a bad joke for Enid to tell Wednesday so she gets mortifyingly aroused

Find slang for Wednesday to misinterpret

If all else fails, dive into that gutter humor 😬

Etc?

With an idea in hand, I just start writing it out straight in the Tumblr app. Totally rawwolfing it. When it’s done, I review and check for (and fail to find) errors. Sometimes I’ll run it by my SO, who isn’t a Wenclair fan, but can confirm if a joke makes sense.

After that, I tag and release the thing into the wild, so it may derp free of my fragile little skull.

19. Most interesting fic-related research topic:

The historical material composition of hanging nooses and the strength differences between traditional hemp and modern Manila hemp, which is actually made from a specific Filipino banana tree as opposed to Cannabis plants.

All that for a joke about thread count. 😗

22. Worries about public reaction and how to get past it:

It hasn’t really come up. Honestly, I’m just happy that people read my stuff and can enjoy a laugh. It helps that I haven’t received much criticism, but I’ve also worked for years in a graphic design-related field that forced me to be able to produce (often dumb) fruit even when in an inhospitable environment near barren of sincere appreciation and/or constructive criticism. 😬 Kinda like a creative extremophile.

For advice to get past it? Keep at it. Find your audience(s) if you care to and focus on them. Keep in mind what you enjoy about the hobby and nurture that sucker. Learning how to shrug off negativity takes experience, but when in doubt, take a break! It’s a hobby, and even if it may at times feel otherwise, remember that it does not define you.

24. Recharge method when not creative:

Reading Wenclair fics and listening to audiobooks. I always have a book queued up and jump between fantasy, urban fantasy, lit rpg, cozy fantasy, sci-fi, bio-terrorism thrillers, queer romance, queer horror, and queer coming-of-age. 😅

25. Hobbies other than writing:

Drawing and semi-regular D&D. There’s other stuff I haven’t had time to enjoy lately, like computer games, clay sculpting, mask making, dancing, juggling, fire spinning, etc.

26. Writing around others:

I am always around others outside of work, so I make do. It’s usually fine, unless said others are those who are prone to toddling. Trying to write around one of them is often a lost cause. 😭

28. Least favorite part of the writing process:

For me, it’s transcribing posts from Tumblr to AO3. Particularly posts with a lot of styling, like small text and Chat. Not everything copy/pastes 1-to-1 and some chapters have to be manually edited as html, which is stupendously tedious doing on the phone. And if it has an image? Uuughghghh. 😖

OMG I’m done! I’m free! FREE! FR—

[justlightlysedated]

It's WIP WEDNESDAY!! And I'm here with a sneak peek for my secretly married malex fic, which is called 'call it young, dumb love (and it's just enough)'

This is the last scene of Part One!

December 2013

Michael is in the middle of a call with Isobel when his call waiting starts beeping. Since he doesn't really want to listen to anything else that Isobel is saying, he hangs up on her midword and answers the call.

"Yeah?" he answers, feeling just a bit apprehensive.

"Is this Michael Guerin?" an official sounding voice speaks, sounding sharp and precise.

"Who wants to know?" Michael asks, regretting picking up this phone call.

"I am calling on behalf of Lieutenant Alexander Manes, and need to reach Michael Guerin," the person says, sounding just slightly annoyed, but Michael ignores that as his heart lodges into his throat and starts pounding.

"Yes, I am Michael Guerin, is Alex okay?"

"This is a courtesy call in accordance with paperwork previously submitted by Lieutenant Manes. There was an incident, where Lieutenant Manes was hurt and he is undergoing surgery. We cannot release any more information at this time, but will be letting you know as soon as we are aware of the outcome."

Michael doesn't feel as relieved as he should be. And he barely hears what the person on the other end of the phone says before they hang up.

Alex is hurt, and he's probably somewhere halfway around the world, and Michael can't do anything but stay here and wait for a phone call that might tell him that Alex had died in the middle of a surgery.

It had been over a year since the last time he actually saw Alex face to face. And that last time hadn't ended well. Alex had told him that he was being sent overseas, and he had no idea when he'd be back. Michael had gotten drunk and had picked a fight with Alex during his last night.

He'd driven off without knowing where he was going to go, and found himself in the drunk tank before the night was over.

By the time he'd made it back to the airstream, it was after noon and Alex had been long gone.

He'd left behind a note, a small slip of a thing that Michael hadn't seen for a couple of weeks, until he'd had someone else in his bed and they'd found it.

Michael had snatched the piece of paper away from them and kicked them out without further ado.

In Alex's terrible handwriting had been the message, I'm sorry. I love you.

Michael looks down at his phone and pulls up his recent messages from Alex. Alex can't really text from overseas, but he sends emails, and his last email came several weeks ago, telling Michael that he's sorry for missing their anniversary once again.

Michael finds himself spiraling, thoughts coming all at once and overwhelming him. He falls back on his bed and leans down, dropping his head in his hands, before leaning down and reaching for one of the bottles stashed beneath his bed.

He barely remembers anything about the next several days. He's sure somewhere in that drunken stupor he gets a call regarding Alex's outcome, but Michael stops answering any phone calls, and hides his phone away somewhere he won't be able to find it easily.

It's almost three weeks of this, and two interventions by Isobel and one by Max that ends with Michael throwing up all over the floor of Max's jeep, when Michael gets woken up by a loud knocking on his door.

Michael groans, feeling like his brain is about to explode out of his skull. He tries reaching for any bottle with liquid, but out of all of the bottles on his floor, all of the ones he can reach seem to be empty.

There is another flurry of knocks on the door, and Michael shuts his eyes tight, not wanting to deal with this, but knowing that whoever knew to find him here, wouldn't just leave him alone.

He lets out a long sigh, and then forces himself off the bed.

"Guerin!" a voice calls out as the person knocks again. At the sound, Michael freezes, feeling both weightless and like his body is made out of concrete.

"Alex," he says in a low voice, before he moves faster than he had this whole time and whips the door open.

And there he is.

Alex.

Standing right in front of Michael, looking exasperated and tired, with his arm in a sling and white bandages peeking out from beneath the collar of the plain black shirt he's wearing.

As Michael stares at him, Alex smiles, looking relieved and happy to be standing in front of Michael.

It's a sight for sore eyes. Michael feels something that had been weighing him down, wrapped around his ribs, dissolve instantly.

For the first time since receiving that call, Michael feels like he can breathe again.

"Hello," Alex says, soft and fond, waving with the hand not strapped to his chest.

Michael is startled into movement, he drops down from the entrance of the airstream and walks right into Alex, wrapping his arms around him. Alex flinches minutely, but before Michael can think to let him go, Alex wraps his good arm around Michael's waist and presses his face hard into Michael's shoulder, slumping into his hold. In return, Michael tightens his hold on Alex, leaning his head against the top of Alex's head.

He doesn't know how long they stay standing like that, but before too long, Alex pulls back stiffly. 

Michael lets him go immediately, clenching his hands to stop himself from reaching out again and pulling Alex close. He wants to pull Alex's shirt off, and unwrap all of his bandages and take a good look at his wound.

He envies for the first time in his life that Max is the one who can heal people.

It would be worth it, telling Alex his secret, no matter how he would react if he could stop Alex from hurting.

Alex breathes in deeply, "I know it's been a while, but come with me? There's something I want to show you."

He holds his hand out, and Michael wants nothing more than to take his hand and follow him anywhere.

But he still remembers how they'd left things the last time that he'd seen Alex face to face. An issue they hadn't talked about in any of the emails they've sent each other over the last couple of months.

"What are you doing here?" Michael asks instead of grabbing Alex's hand and never letting go. "Thought you said you'd never step foot back in town."

Alex inhales deeply, but he looks at Michael like he had been expecting push back so is not surprised. Michael wants to bristle at that, but despite not knowing about Michael's whole alien thing, Alex knows him the best out of everyone.

"I was angry, and I wanted to hurt you," Alex says, the words rehearsed, like he's repeated them to himself over and over. "You were pushing me away, even though you know it's futile. I was scared that I was going to die. And getting shot just puts things into a bigger perspective."

Michael can't help the way that he reacts to that last part. Alex just gives him a pleading look.

"We're still married. You're still my husband. If I wanted nothing to do with you, I'd have sent you divorce papers."

Michael nods his head once. He swallows back the words he wants to say, telling Alex that he's sorry for what he said, that he hadn't meant any of it either, that Alex leaving always tore him apart, and Alex going overseas for an undetermined amount of time was something that he didn't think he could survive.

He'd been wrong. Somehow, he survived, but that doesn't mean that it didn't hurt like hell.

"This year's been hell," Michael finds himself saying, and Alex nods his head in agreement.

"I know, for me too, but I think what I have to show you will make the next couple of years easier to bear."

Michael breathes out, and then nods his head once again, reaching out for Alex's still outstretched hand.

Alex tugs him away from the airstream, barely letting him close the door behind himself.

Michael doesn't know how Alex got here, but he lets himself be pushed into his truck, and follows Alex's directions, driving across town, the streets still in the barely there light of the morning. They drive down a dirt path and through winding roads, until they reach a house, not in the middle of nowhere, but far away enough from every other house in the neighborhood to give the illusion of privacy. 

They pull in front of the almost dilapidated house, the paint on the garage door is peeling and the wooden fence is rotting in places.

Alex tells him to park the truck in the driveway and gets out before the engine is off. Michael follows after him at a slower rate, watching as Alex pulls a pair of keys out of his pocket and opens the front door, turning to look at Michael once before walking inside.

Michael follows him inside, down a hallway with peeling wallpaper and cobwebs hanging around the corners, and into a large space where a single chair sits in the middle. 

He finds Alex sitting down on the low counter that separates what looks like the kitchen from the rest of the room, looking at Michael eagerly.

"What is this place?" Michael asks, because he knows what his heart is hoping for, but it all seems too good to be true. 

"It's a house," Alex says obviously, ignoring the look that Michael gives him. "I bought it for us. Both of our names are on the deed."

Michael takes an unintended step towards Alex and then forces himself to stop, "What?"

"You said you wanted to be married. That you wanted a house, kids, a dad band."

Alex doesn't look at Michael as he speaks, like he can't bear to look at his face, like he thinks that Michael has changed his mind.

"We have a domestic partnership, but gay marriage has been legal here for a couple of days, we can go get an actual marriage license. And we have this house. The rest of it I'll give to you once my contract is up. If that's still something that you want."

Michael is moving before Alex can finish speaking, getting into his line of sight, and looking at him seriously.

"What about you?" Michael asks, as Alex watches him with dark confused eyes. "What do you want?"

Alex straightens up, giving Michael a serious look, "What I want hasn't changed."

Michael's eyes dart all over Alex's face before he steps closer, setting one hand down beside where Alex is sitting.

Alex looks down at his hand and follows his arm back up to Michael's face.

"I still want all of it with you," Michael says, and feels something crack in his chest at the look of relief that Alex gives him. "But I hate it when you're gone."

"I hate being gone," Alex says helplessly. "But I still have five more years."

Michael exhales roughly because he knows. He knows that Alex signed up for one of the longest military contracts there was, that he did it because once he got out, he would be set for life.

Alex keeps talking, "I know it's a lot to ask, but if you're willing to wait, I'll give you everything you want and more. I've spent this last year thinking about what you said, and I want to build this life with you, but you have to stop pushing me away. I'm in this for good."

"I'll try," Michael says after a long moment.

"That's all I'm asking for," Alex says back, lifting one hand to Michael's shoulder and sliding it up to the side of his neck. 

Michael shivers at the touch and sets his other hand on the counter, caging Alex between his arms.

Alex leans in close and presses his forehead to Michael's, closing his eyes.

"I've missed you," Alex says in a low, shaky voice. "Emails really aren't enough. Especially when you take so long to answer."

Michael hums in agreement, leaning in closer to nudge his nose against Alex's.

Alex pulls back a little bit, opening his eyes and lifting an eyebrow in question.

Michael drops his eyes to the bandages he can still see peeking out of the collar of Alex's shirt.

"Can I?" he asks, looking back up to Alex's face.

Alex gives him an unreadable look for a moment before he nods his head.

Michael doesn't waste any time. He slides the sling off Alex as carefully as he can, but Alex still hisses a little, clenching his jaw.

Michael doesn't stop, though, moving his hands to the hem of Alex's shirt and urging it up over his head. 

Alex keeps quiet through it all, not saying anything as Michael starts to unpeel the gauze covering the wound.

Michael feels the air punching out of his lungs as he looks at the still healing wound. There are no stitches, and it is mostly closed up again, the scar tissue looking very red and new. Michael's hands shake as he presses his fingers to the scar. Alex's breath hitches at that, and Michael looks up to his face.

Alex's eyes are closed, and his brow is furrowed.

"What happened?"

Alex inhales deeply and opens his eyes. "There was an ambush, and I was shot. The bullet went straight through, but the injury was aggravated afterward, and I had to have surgery or risk losing any mobility for good."

Michael closes his eyes, leaning down and pressing a kiss on the edge of the wound. Alex's breath hitches again, and his hand goes to the back of Michael's head, fingers tangling in the strands.

Michael doesn't move, pressing his forehead to Alex's shoulder, careful not to press down on the injury.

"I wish-" he starts, not knowing how he's going to end the statement.

He wishes he could wrap Alex in bubble wrap and keep him trapped in the airstream for the rest of his life. He wishes that he could go with Alex and protect him when he's out in the battlefield, sending anything that could hit and injure him far, far away. He wishes he could finally find all the pieces of his spaceship and take Alex far away from this hell of a planet.

Alex tugs against his hold on Michael's hair, and Michael lifts his head, and Alex tugs him into a kiss. 

Michael pushes into the kiss immediately, wrapping his hands around the backs of Alex's knees and tugging him in closer before wrapping his arms around Alex's waist and kissing him harder. 

Alex hitches his knees on either side of Michael's hips, lifting his injured arm with a hiss, separating their mouths.

Michael makes to pull back, opening his mouth to apologize, but Alex digs his fingers to Michael's scalp and crosses his shins behind Michael's thighs, pulling him closer.

"No, stay, stay," Alex says, voice low and scratchy as he kisses him again.

Michael falls against Alex, hands pressed to Alex's back and licks into his mouth.

Alex moans and rubs his hand across the back of Michael's neck.

Michael loses himself in the kiss, pressing closer and closer until Alex is lying back on the counter and Michael is climbing up after him.

Alex's head falls back as he gasps for air, and Michael presses his mouth to Alex's throat, sliding his hands down to undo the button on Alex's jeans.

"Not where I imagined the first time we'd have sex in this house," Alex says, fingers tugging restlessly against Michael's hair.

"Oh yeah?" Michael mutters against the skin of his throat, hands sliding into Alex's boxers.

Alex makes a strangled sound as Michael wraps a hand around his half-hard cock, and his head thunks back against the counter.

"Yeah," he says breathlessly. "There's a reason I had a mattress delivered earlier today."

Michael lifts his head at that, moving his hands out of Alex's pants to help himself balance above him. Alex makes a noise in protest at the back of his throat, but opens his eyes to look at Michael.

"So sure of yourself that you needed a mattress, huh?" Michael asks teasingly, leaning in close enough for a kiss but not taking it.

Alex just grins up at him, "Where else did you think I was going to sleep for the next six weeks of medical leave?"

Michael goes still with surprise for one second, eyes darting all over Alex's face before he kisses him hard and fast.

Alex laughs as Michael gets down from the counter, wrapping his arms around Alex's waist and tugging him upright, before wrapping his hands around the back of Alex's thighs and hauling him into his arms.

Alex's laugh turns into a delighted gasp as he wraps one arm around Michael's shoulders and presses the fingers of his bad arm to Michael's face. The tips of his fingers too cold against Michael's skin.

He's still smiling as he kisses, Michael soft and sweet, before nudging their noses together, "Come on, Mr. Guerin, take me to bed."

Michael kisses him again, and concentrates on using his abilities to make sure he has a secure hold on Alex, before he turns towards the only open door where he can just see the edges of a mattress that is lying on the floor. "As you wish, Mr. Guerin."

-

For the next six weeks, Alex turns their house into a home, and Michael sleeps beside him on their bed, in their room, in their house.

And then he's gone.

Michael doesn't see him again for almost five years.

[bellaxgiornata]

Honestly I cannot believe that I've been on tumblr for just over a year now and somehow there's already so many of you wonderful people here that are reading, enjoying, and supporting my silly little fics. When I jumped over here from AO3, I had not anticipated how much fun I was going to have getting to chat with all of y'all while also sharing my stories with those of you who aren't on AO3. I've definitely made some wonderful friends this past year because of tumblr and I just want to say thank you to everyone for the support. I always mean it when I say y'all are the reason I keep writing these stories 💖

I could certainly get sappier but instead I'll just invite y'all to join me for my first ever celebration! There's a few fun things below the cut that y'all can pop up with in my ask box starting today May 3 through Wednesday May 8! I tried to think of some interesting things that I could realistically make time to do with everything currently going on in my life, especially because I'm also still trying to stockpile rough drafts for many of my stories so that I can still have updates during my upcoming "writing hiatus" (that I'll explain more about later). My plan is to answer things as they come in and hopefully have them all finished shortly after the celebration ends. And once the celebration finally ends, I'm hoping to give y'all an update to a story or a one shot!

Hopefully this will be fun for everyone!

Let's Chat! - Feel free to send me an ask about anything at all! No, seriously. You want to tell me about your day? An upcoming vacation or exciting accomplishment of yours? Do it! Or maybe you want to ask me questions about one of my stories or my writing process? Hell, feel free to ask me about myself, chat about coffee, music, books, pets, whatever!

Discuss Headcanons with Me! - Have any headcanons about Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, or Michael Kinsella that you want to chat about or share with me? Send them in! Or are you interested in a headcanon I might have about one of them in a certain situation? Feel free to ask! We can chat about the boys!

Send Me Fake FFTD Installment Titles! - Create a title name for an installment for my Falling for the Devil series (ex. "The [insert title]") and I'll write a couple of sentences about what I could picture that installment being about! You win bonus points if you can actually stump me on coming up with a plot for your title. But also who knows, maybe some title suggestions could spark an idea for future updates...

Let's Play a Game! - We can play would you rather, have you ever, or fuck/marry/kiss (or kill). For the record, f/m/k can be with anyone from Daredevil, Punisher, Defenders, Kin, or even any of Charlie's characters that I'm familiar with (Matt, Michael, Owen, Henry, Tristan, or Adam) or those of Jon's that I'm familiar with (mainly Frank, Shane, or Julian). If you can think of another game feel free to play it with me!

Ask the Boys! - Do you enjoy my weird internal dialogues with fictional characters that probably make me sound crazy? Great! Feel free to send me an ask to either one or all of the fictional men that live in my head (Matt, Frank, and/or Mikey) and I'll relay whatever they respond with in something of a short internal dialogue!

Request a Sneak Peak! - Since I have been stockpiling quite a few WIPs and rough drafts for a couple of months now, I am open to y'all just requesting a sneak peak. If you do, I will share a snippet from a fic I choose at random from something that's either a fully finished rough draft or still a work in progress!

**You're more than welcome to participate multiple times, but all I ask is that you (1) send things in separate asks, (2) are not rude to me or anyone else, and (3) are 18+ to discuss anything spicy (this is an 18+ blog anyway so I'd hope everyone here already is).**

[blitzwhore]

Haven't done WIP Wednesday in a few weeks because my fic ideas were in their rumination phase, but I'm finally writing again! Here's a snippet of chapter 3 of my tattoo shop AU 👀

When he turned back to Stolas, Blitz found him lingering, not quite knowing what to do with himself.

He was too fucking adorable for his own good, and Blitz had to stop himself from reaching out to coax Stolas’ fingers away from the scarf’s threads.

“Wanna head outside?” he asked instead. “I was gonna go get tacos a few shops down, if you wanna join.”

He usually brought lunch to work, much like everyone else, but he’d spent too much of his morning making pancakes and being gay, so he’d ended up throwing together a couple sandwiches for Loona and calling it a day. The potential of getting Stolas to join him for lunch had definitely played a part in his decision-making, of course.

“Tacos sound nice,” Stolas said with a shy smile.

Blitz resisted the urge to bite his lip and instead focused on looking as dignified as possible as he walked around the counter and threw on his jacket. He would not make a fool of himself in front of Mills.

“See ya later, B,” Millie said, and Blitz could hear the shit-eating grin under her nonchalant tone.

“Yeah, yeah, see ya,” Blitz mumbled, barely managing not to flip her the finger. Fondly, of course.

“Oh, um,” Stolas said suddenly, eyes flying quickly from the floor to Millie, then back down. “I—I should probably introduce myself. I’m Stolas. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Millie.” She shrugged. “And, trust me,” she added with a little laugh, “I know who you are.”

“Okay, bye now, Mills,” Blitz said really loudly, and pushed a heavily blushy Stolas out the door before the urge to turn around and murder his best friend got the best of him.

Tagging @stolitzsings @sunsetofdoom @helluvagirlboss and anyone else who wants to participate! ❤️

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  LadyKailitha! @ladykailitha has 33 fics posted to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and 32 of them are in the Steddie Tag.

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @ladykailitha:

Little Runaway

Staking My Claim

I'll Be Your Knight

Eddie's Big Stevie Rescue

"LadyKailitha is a wonderful writer both on Tumblr (shout out to WIP Wednesday, makes my day!!) and on AO3! They absolutely deserve all the recognition and respect for their work. And now I'd like to share the love 🫶"-- anonymous

Below the cut, @ladykailitha answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I’m obsessed with them. LOL! On a more serious note, it’s because I relate to the two characters a lot and want to see them happy.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Childhood friends. I just love watching them be friends as kids and then grow apart and then back together again. I could read it a billion times and do it again. As long as there’s a happy ending of course.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

AUs. Just all of them. I like canon Eddie and Steve, but putting them in different worlds and still finding ways to make them who they are. chef’s kiss

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

There are so many good ones but one that I’ve read several times is STRIKE TEN by oaseas. So good.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

That’s the best part of steddie is not knowing there’s a troupe I want to write for until inspiration strikes. Like I never thought I’d do a sugar baby/daddy AU, but I’m currently writing one. Ditto for omegaverse, but now I’ve written two from the same universe. But as I’m typing this… probably sentinel/guide. The idea has always intrigued me.

What is your writing process like?

First is day dreaming up an idea. Then depending on how long the idea is, I’ll do a short write up about. If it’s long, then it gets treated with plot beats I want to hit. I don’t consider it an outline, because they aren’t in order. Then I will sit down and start writing. I will do at least 400 words a day and keep at it until I have at least 3 or 4 chapters into it before I start posting.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I have to have a backlog of unpublished chapters because I worry if I’m not putting out stories people will lose interest. It’s also so that if I write myself into a corner I can go back a couple of chapters if I have to and change it to fit the new direction the story is going.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Definitely on a schedule. I’ve tried waiting until I’m done and I just get too excited for other people to read it and start posting.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Well Met By Moonlight. I’m really proud of the world building and mystery.

How did you get the idea for Little Runaway?

When I first got into the fandom, there was a severe lack of Eddie and Steve postseason 2 and I really wanted to lean into that a bit.

When writing Little Runaway, what was something you didn’t expect?

Max becoming a reader insert in a way. Where you see the characters through her eyes at the end.

What inspired Staking My Claim?

LOL! Steve licking Eddie’s hand like he was a cupcake he didn’t want to share.

What was your favorite part to write from Staking My Claim?

Jeff. I loved how he just kinda rocked up and said, “As Eddie’s boyfriend, you are now my responsibility and no, you don’t get a say in this.”

How do/did you feel writing I'll Be Your Knight?

I love this one. It really does not get enough praise honestly. I loved the idea of the sound of Steve’s lighter as he lights and puts it out over and over again. I just really loved the idea of Steve guarding Eddie because he’s part of the group now.

What was the most difficult part of writing Eddie's Big Stevie Rescue?

The subject matter. It’s one of my darkest fics because Steve gets slipped a date rape drug and the fall out of not trusting the people you care about with the deepest parts of yourself. Also, keeping the tension ramped up.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I absolutely love the scene with Billy and Steve from “Never Hold Back Your Step…” when Billy gets Steve’s lifeguard job and Steve calls him a washed up surfer. That whole takedown was cathartic as hell.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I’m currently working on a couple that I think are just so much fun. “The Hellfire Exotic Club” a stripper AU that has been a blast to write. And “Of Butterflies and Backstrokes” the Olympic swimmer AU. I’m proud of that title, too.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

nope!

Thank you to our author, @ladykailitha, and our anonymous nominator! See more of LadyKailitha's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[emsprovisions]

wip wednesday

Thank you for the tags @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @tellmegoodbye @heartstringsduet!!

Not sure where I’m going with this one yet but it’s been on my mind for a couple of days! 💕

“Do you think you would’ve had a crush on me in high school?” TK asks suddenly, stroking his thumb over Carlos’s cheek in his 10th grade school photo.

Carlos looks over at him and down at the picture in his hand. His teenaged self is nearly unrecognizable. He was so full of self loathing back then. He never let himself shine. His hair is gelled down in the photo, probably his mom’s doing. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Probably,” Carlos says, lifting up TK’s similar school photo. He was handsome, even then, all wild hair and bright eyes that begged for trouble. Carlos is sure he wouldn’t have even been a blip on high school TK’s radar.

“I would’ve thought you were the hottest guy in school,” TK grins.

“You’re such a liar.” Carlos chuckles and puts the picture down and reaches for another one from the box, one of TK with his mom and Enzo at a Broadway show.

They’d decided to go through old pictures together. Not for any particular reason. TK had said he wanted to see some pictures of Carlos as a kid and offered to let Carlos see more of his as a fair trade. It’s how they’ve ended up on the couch, old photographs spilling all across their coffee table.

“I’m not lying,” TK insists. “Look at you!”

Carlos rolls his eyes. “Can’t we just settle for you thinking I’m the hottest guy in the world, now? You wouldn’t have noticed me in school, TK. We existed in two entirely different worlds.”

TK had been out and proud. He played sports and was popular. He seemed so unapologetic in who he was, but Carlos couldn’t relate. He’d been reserved in high school, just starting to figure out he didn’t give a damn about cheerleaders in short skirts. It was the football players he ogled on game day, their lean asses in those tight pants. No one knew who he really was, what he really was. He buried that part of himself well until it threatened to consume him when he was 17.

He opened the lid of emotions and immediately let it come crashing back down. He didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere. Only Iris knew him, completely and unapologetically. So, he thought that was enough, that she could know who he was and accept him anyway, love him anyway, marry him anyway.

Carlos swallows thickly. Maybe this was a bad idea.

No pressure tags! @lemonlyman-dotcom @nancys-braids @strandnreyes @ironheartwriter + Open!

[britcision]

*blowing a horn* sorry my friends! For some ungodly reason for the past couple weeks Wednesday has been my busiest day/night? But never fear, I have not forgotten you and the new chapter is more than half done!

(Also got to go see a friend before she flies back to Newfoundland, climb another waterfall in 3” platforms, and do a photoshoot at said waterfall! Busy weeeeeeeek!)

So here is this week’s belated WIP Wednesday, with some more good news for y’all! Wonder Woman is here to save the day!

—————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee part iii

There was not a single thing on Earth or the Watchtower that he wanted less than to stop and talk to John Fucking Constantine and Diana after the meeting.

To be completely fair, Constantine clearly didn’t want to have that conversation any more either; Bruce had not been wrong about how well the magician would take the news that the United States had declared war on an entire dimension.

He was visibly green, had actually ground an unlit cigarette into a grainy mess against the table in lieu of lighting up, and looked about ready to lick up the tobacco.

Diana did not look happy either, but she never had. Her face was as stony and grave as Bruce had ever seen it, concern writ large even as she caught his eye.

The sure knowledge that her lasso would follow if he tried to leave was the only thing that kept him from ignoring her.

But since the only thing he wanted in the world at this moment was to have his son in his arms, and there was no chance of that happening until they were in the same dimension once more…

Bruce shot a quick, questioning look at Clark as the traitor made his way to the exit along with the rest of the Justice League. The Kryptonian at least had the grace to look a little guilty as he shook his head, stepping quickly out the door.

Wonder Woman hadn’t specifically told everyone else to get the fuck out. She had simply molded herself into an immovable force, concluded the meeting, and instructed Bruce alone to remain and discuss these… complications.

Bruce considered making an argument for Superman’s inclusion. They were the original three, and they’d probably need at least his and Aquaman’s help to handle the diplomatic situation.

Possibly the Oa, and Bruce was quite sure Green Lantern wasn’t looking forward to that possibility any more than he was. Hal Jordan talked a good game, always far too flippant, but he’d been pale enough by the end of the lecture that his suit made him look frankly unwell.

Unpleasant times would be in all of their futures it seemed. It was no real comfort as he slipped into a seat across from Wonder Woman and the slumped form of John Constantine.

The magician didn’t even look up, but clearly noticed.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think anyone’d fuck this up worse’n you, Bats,” he groaned, face still pressed into the table.

Bruce grunted, uninterested in his judgement.

“There are new complications we should focus on.” A vain hope, and one Diana instantly crushed.

“One that makes the contents of our discussion all the more vital,” she corrected sharply, piercing blue eyes narrowed as she watched his face. “It seems we have already caused unintentional offence.”

Which was an extremely light way to phrase the declared genocide, but Bruce didn’t bother arguing that position. Not when Constantine would do it for him.

But the mage just let out a long, hearty groan.

“Offence. Yeah. Maybe if we saw off the United States and toss it through a portal the rest of us will be fine,” he snarked, raising his head just enough to bang it off the table. Repeatedly.

By the third bang Diana gripped the back of his head, holding him in place against the table.

“Whatever the situation,” she growled, her tone daring either of them to comment, “we must deal with it as it is. You believe we would have noticed any countermeasures from the former Ghost King?”

She released her grip a moment later, and Constantine rolled his head just enough to glare at her through one eye.

“Pariah Dark? Sister, it wouldn’ta been a single town bein’ pulled off the map. We’d have lost the continent, and probably the world. You wouldn’t miss it,” he added with a bitter laugh, clearly considering banging his head off the table again.

Diana placed a hand on the table. Constantine set his head back down gently.

“And the new king?” She prodded, all icy control.

Bruce had to admit, even he felt calmer watching her.

He knew all the follies and foibles of gods, had no delusions about the limits of her power. He also knew her strengths. Her wisdom. Her ability to cut through complex issues with sword or words.

Whatever he missed, she was removed enough from this mess to catch.

Constantine shrugged, still not rising.

“No fuckin’ clue. All I know is they’re better’n Pariah, which is the lowest damn bar I ever saw. They call them Balance, and we’re not gonna fuckin’ like when the scales come due.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. What could be a sufficient counterweight for demanding a whole people be hunted and experimented on until extinction?

The dead always vastly outnumbered the living.

Diana cut across his thoughts, her tone as sharp as her blade.

“So you believe we’d notice.”

Constantine sighed heavily and flopped back in his seat hard enough that he nearly toppled over. Diana steadied the chair with one hand, eyebrow rising archly.

Constantine stopped flailing, went to fold his arms, and instead stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Probably’d be pretty hard to miss too,” he agreed gruffly. Diana nodded, having received the answer she wanted, and interlaced her fingers.

“Then we have time to rectify matters before word reaches his ears.” She paused, brow furrowing as she recounted John’s words. “Do we not know if the King is a man?”

Constantine shrugged again, pulling something unidentifiable from his pocket before hastily shoving it back in, coming out again with a lighter. He spun it between his fingers, eyes fixed on the metal lid.

“Nah. “King” is just a loose translation to living tongues, for what yer used to. Easier to say than “Supreme High Ruler, Core of the Realms”. Not even likely that they were ever human; not even the Ancients could take Pariah solo to take the crown, so a human ghost wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Huffing out a mighty breath, Constantine looked from the lighter to Bruce, his gaze somehow immeasurably more tired. Bruce had imagined that talking about Amity Park made the man look ancient.

He looked haggard enough to be an ancient ghost himself now.

Raising his other hand, he began counting off points on his fingers.

“We know they’re young. Everything agrees on that. Could be any time in the past few centuries, but it’s still a timeline. We know they’re tougher’n Hell and all its demons put together, cuz they put Pariah down single handed. Had to to get the throne. Might not have Ended him, the Casket of Eternal Slumber’s not turned up looking for a new occupant.”

The magician stared at his two fingers for a moment, then sighed and raised a third.

“And we know ghosts like them. They’re less scared, though most of ‘em never knew shit about Pariah. Didn’t even react to him waking, which had to happen for the change in power. That or it all went down too fast for the shockwaves to reach us here; not bloody likely. Wouldn’t take more than a day, and ghosts fight for decades on a whim.”

He hesitated for a moment, considering that last finger. Finally he sighed and shook his head.

“Can’t rule it out though. Pariah waking up’d be as much an emergency for them as it’d be for us, putting his ass back down is an all hands on deck situation on either side of the veil. If this new king is Balance, Pariah’d be their opposite,” he finished gruffly, glaring at all three digits before stuffing both hands into his pockets.

Bruce nodded, drawing a deep, calming breath in through his nose and then out through his mouth. Even this much discussion had something itching in the back of his mind, a building tension that he had to Get Away.

He was in control of it though. Could tell the difference between his own unease and the burning ember of the oath.

Turn and run right away his ass. Magic could never hold out against cool, calm logic.

“And this new king, Balance, has stamped a damn mark on Jason.”

And his breath hitched.

Sharp, white hot panic flared behind his eyes, every muscle clenching with the effort of not leaping straight from the table. The only reason he didn’t was because he had no idea where to go.

What would he even do? Run to Jason’s side? The boy was in another dimension, far beyond Bruce’s reach.

Again.

He was losing Jason again. Losing him to this Ghost King, this Balance, this-

Diana’s hand clamped firmly over his, the Amazon’s grip immovable steel. Bruce felt his bones grinding together before he even noticed he’d stopped breathing, before he managed to look up enough to meet her eyes.

Stern, determined, brilliant blue locked with his. Her grip tightened a little further, the ribbing on his gloves creaking with the pressure.

She wouldn’t break them… probably. They were designed to hold up against any of the supers the League dealt with. Prolonged contact was another thing entirely though.

His attention now locked on her face, Bruce managed a deep breath in along with her. Held it when she did. Let it out.

She didn’t release him for another few repetitions, until he was breathing mostly on his own again. Then she returned her attention to Constantine.

“What.” It wasn’t aggressive. Just a completely flat, completely toneless statement.

Constantine gave her an entirely hopeless smile, pulling his hands from his pockets to give her jazz hands.

“And that’s what he’s not ready to hear yet. Your boy, Jason, Red Hood, has gotten himself personally warded by the Ghost King. He’s the next thing to invulnerable right now,” he added bitterly, as if that made any of it better.

An icy hand clenched in Bruce’s chest again, but he forced himself to still. To breathe through it. To not turn and run, run until he found his child and tore him away from whatever influence had him.

The Ghost King had a hold of Jason. Jason who’d all but ordered Bruce to let him go.

“And Jason must have been in direct contact with the King to receive these wards?” Diana asked sharply, and Bruce’s head snapped back to her.

It was a good question. Important, obvious, there was a connection there that he should be making, but he couldn’t think. His head was spinning, heart pounding, and every shadow seemed black as pitch.

Constantine grunted an agreement, shooting Bruce an almost sympathetic look.

Could. Could this be the oath? Not his own instinctive, natural panic?

Bruce couldn’t tell, he’d been so afraid for so long, ever since he held Jason’s broken body in his arms. Ever since he buried his son.

It felt the same. But he had mastered that fear long ago, so this would not control him now. He had to be better.

Frowning at Diana, he leaned forward.

“Explain.” She’d probably assumed that he’d made the same connection. He probably should have.

There was just a brief flash of surprise on her face before her expression softened, her hand gentling over his.

“Jason was the one who told you of these Anti Ecto Acts, was he not?” She asked pointedly, a dark brow arching delicately.

Bruce about managed a grunt of agreement, his jaw clenched too tightly to speak. She waited a moment longer, watching his face, and then sighed.

“Then is it not likely that either he has told Balance of these Acts, or that Balance was the one that told him?”

Constantine jerked and got halfway through a bellowed curse before she cut him off with a glare. Her tone brooked no argument as she continued with a firm, frosted patience.

“Jason is a principled young man, even if not of the exact principles you prefer. Either he has warned you because he believes we have time to fix this, or because the King would prefer we handle it,” she said bluntly.

It sounded so simple, put like that. Far too simple. Bruce shook his head, leaning in.

“We can’t know for sure-”

“Batman.” There was nothing harsh in her tone. Nothing so overtly aggressive as the glare she kept giving Constantine. Just a calm, cool statement that sucked the air from his lungs.

The weight of her own mantle, the Amazon princess who would one day be Queen. Not his friend Diana; Wonder Woman.

Once she was sure he wouldn’t continue, she fixed him with a sapphire stare.

“Do you believe Jason Todd would condone the end of the world?” She asked simply, and that at least was that plain.

“No.” It didn’t even require thought; whatever he feared ever since his son took his first life, Bruce knew that.

Jason was fundamentally a good boy. So kind, so giving, ironically he had been the most well adjusted boy Bruce had ever given the mantle to.

Which was what made what he’d become so painful. It was everything he never should have been.

Wonder Woman nodded as if that solved all the rest.

“And yet you called the meeting, not him. He has known for several days already and did nothing to alert any of us. Therefore, he does not believe this is an urgent threat.”

It sounded good, and Bruce almost believed it before Constantine snorted.

“Yeah, great, except the kid has no fuckin’ clue what he’s dealing with. Didn’t even know he’d been fuckin’ marked or that sellin’ his fuckin’ service was the dumbest fuckin’ thing he coulda done,” he grumbled and Bruce’s heart fell.

Wonder Woman was not so easily swayed. She raised an eyebrow slowly at the magician.

“And could those protective marks have been placed on Jason against his will?” She asked pointedly, like she knew the first thing about magic.

Constantine hesitated. Frowned a little, thinking hard. Finally he threw both hands in the air and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing them down his face.

“Technically, yes, alright? But I can’t think of a damn reason why they’d bother. Like I told the old Bat, it’s technically a good thing; I couldn’t even get a basic diagnostic spell off, he’s completely fuckin’ magic proof an’ anythin’ that can read that ward will run like fuck.”

Something in Bruce’s chest flickered hopefully. Wonder Woman nodded firmly, then redirected her stare to him.

“Then until we have reason not to, we assume that Jason Todd has control of this situation. He has assigned us to deal with these Acts, either before his king discovers them or on their behalf. You, Batman, will defer to his experience along with that of our experts,” she declared with all the ringing command she was capable of.

It chafed. And yet… he could hear the echo of Harley’s words in her voice.

What if Jason was wrong? It was the kind of thing he always thought about, the kind of thing he couldn’t stop thinking about. The kind of thing that had the Batman able to stand and go toe to toe with gods.

But what if Jason was right? What if Harley, Diana, Constantine were right, and his usual measures would spell disaster?

He had a dozen contingency plans that any member of the League could use to take him down.

—————

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai i @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook

Thaaaaaat’s a whole lotta new names that can’t be properly tagged, have I missed something?

[something-tofightfor]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Nobody tagged me in this, but I've been writing across a few things lately and wanted to share them.

Three sneaks beneath the cut for Frankie, Joel and Baseball Jack!

On Deck (Baseball Jack):

“Hell no.” He turned to face you, lifting one hand to point at the dresser over your shoulder. “Cord’s over there.” You turned away from him and dug into your bag, pulling out the device and checking to see if the volume was off. After you’d connected the charge cable, you flipped it face down and then set it atop the dresser, putting your bag beside it. Ok. Now it’s just … us. 

When you turned to face him again, you saw that Jack was sitting on the end of his bed, knees spread and both feet planted on the floor. “How’s your arm feel?” Stepping forward, you let your arms hang by your sides. “I know I need to be careful, but -”

“Feels good.” He reached out, his hands finding the edges of the jersey’s front and pulling you closer. “Ginger gave me the all clear, and I trust her.” You nodded, biting your lip and reaching out to run your fingers through his hair. 

“You want to help me out here, Jack? As much as I like wearing this, I think I’d like to have you take it off of me more.” The neutral expression on his face slowly turned into a sly smile, but instead of Jack easing the material from your body, he pulled his hands back - and then raised them above his head. Wait, what? 

“Jack?” You caught the slight hitch in his arm, but chose to ignore it, instead staring into his eyes. “You -”

“You gonna keep me waiting, darlin’?” He winked, poking his tongue into his cheek briefly. “I hope not.” You didn’t want to. Without any further delay, you bent forward enough so that you could grab the shirt and ease it up over his torso.

Liminality (Werewolf Frankie):

Frankie groaned, reaching up to pull his hat off before using the back of his hand to rub at his eye. “We’re gonna get going.” The other conversation stopped, everyone’s attention going back to you. “We should probably figure out what we’re doing about next month pretty soon, just so we’re all on the same page.”

“Think it’s my turn to head out with you, ‘Fish.” Benny cleared his throat. “But I’m not opposed to turning it into an all play, just to cover our asses.” 

“Might be a good idea.” Pope sighed, rubbing at the space between his eyes. “I think it’s gonna come back and try to see if we’re back at the RV. It had to have smelled wolf-you, Frankie. It might even go back there as a human to scope it out, so -”

“I can head out there in the next couple days.” Tom leaned forward, the hand holding his beer dangling between his knees. “See if everything looks right. Check on the blind, replenish the first aid kit, all that.” Frankie nodded from next to you, and you opened your mouth to speak, but Will beat you to it. 

“Will you be able to get away with us next month, Redfly?” He sipped from his beer, gesturing to the rest of you with it. “Strength in numbers and all that shit?”

“No.” Tom shook his head, staring at the blonde. “There’s a realtor’s conference in Orlando that goes all weekend. Didn’t get to go to the one in August, so I thought this one was a good backup.” He cleared his throat. “I can do whatever you need me to until that Wednesday night, but I won’t be home for the full moon.” 

“Alright.” Will agreed, shrugging. “We’ll do it without you, then.”

Untitled: (Rockstar Joel):

 While he was talking, you felt someone move to stand behind you, gasping out a surprised little huff when you realized it was Tommy. 

“Don’t get to see him from the crowd much,” he muttered into your ear as Joel answered a question from a woman to your right. “It’s different.” He paused. “Reminds me of when we were growin’ up.” 

You wanted to say more - to ask him more - but before you could, Joel adjusted his microphone again and turned to look at Tess, his smile softening. “I don’t play this one much live, but I figure it’ll be good for this.” You watched her eyes widen and then she nodded before Joel faced forward again and leaned closer to the microphone. “This one’s called Enough Here.” 

The crowd cheered, but you gasped at the confirmation of who - and what - the song was about. You’d had suspicions after listening to the lyrics. But with the look he’d given Tess prior to strumming for the first time, there was no longer any doubt. 

You recorded part of the chorus including a note that Joel held for longer than in the recorded version, but then put your phone and camera down, wanting to focus on his performance.

It was a haunting song, Joel’s gravelly voice telling a story about loving someone but knowing that it wasn’t going to work - even from the beginning, but that both people involved understood what that meant. That’s why they’ve been able to keep working together. Because they’re on the same page and always have been, even if one of them wanted more. 

---

Tagging anyone who sees this and wants to play + a few NPT: @the-blind-assassin-12 @burntheedges @oonajaeadira @morallyinept @justagalwhowrites

[stobinesque]

Make Me Write: SNIPPET

The people have spoken and the people want Jeff to be Steve's bisexual awakening! I now have ~1.7k words written of this fic that had previously been a vague outline in the back of my head. Full disclosure, though: the "awakening" part of this is going to take a good long while for our beloved Steve.

I'm tagging everyone who explicitly requested this for WIP Wednesday (I counted each request as 3 additional sentences to my total count). But I'm going to hang onto the asks and use them for future motivation!

SNIPPET BELOW!

The return to school is a rocky one. The worst of the bruising has faded, and Steve can finally make it through most of a day reasonably alert—at home, at least. But there’s still a persistent ache throughout his whole body, and the fluorescent lights at Hawkins High are suddenly audible in a way he doesn’t remember them being just a couple weeks ago. About halfway through second period he develops a splitting headache that only gets worse as the hours tick by, and he feels seconds away from losing a breakfast he didn’t eat.

And that’s just the physical stuff. Returning to the social feeding frenzy of a small-town high school stuffed with teens with nothing to do than stick their noses all the way up the asses of everyone around them after getting his lights knocked out by the shiny new guy… Max may have knocked Billy out, but Billy’s not the one who had to take a week and a half off. Billy’s not the one with yellowing bruises splashed across his face. Billy’s had time to fashion himself a little amateur PR campaign, with Tommy Hagan as his own personal town crier.

It’s not like Steve had any particular interest in continuing to hover at the periphery of the circles he’d once been the ringleader of. But with Nancy tucked firmly into Jonathan’s side, and staunchly avoiding his gaze, and without the blandly polite interest of any of his other “friends,” Steve is just…adrift.

And on top of all of that, somehow a grade 3 concussion has not managed him a get out of jail free card for the stack of problem sets, papers, and tests he missed while he was out. Steve’s not totally convinced that a couple teachers didn’t tack on additional assignments out of spite.

“Mr. Harrington.”

Steve freezes with one foot in Mr. Donovan’s classroom. “Yes?”

“You’ll be making up the test you missed at the end of last week.”

“Didn’t I also miss the lessons for that test?”

“It’s not my fault if you didn’t have someone to take notes for you while you were away.”

“Away? I had a concussion.”

“Yes, and I’m sure you’ll think twice before getting up to whatever nonsense resulted in that unfortunate accident again. But that does not change the fact that you have a test you need take before you can continue in this class.”

Steve works his jaw, tempted to pull out the ‘my parents will be hearing about this’ card. He probably could get his mom to kick up enough of a fuss to get him out of the test. If he played his cards right, he might even manage to rile his dad enough to get Mr. Donovan fired. But either option was a devil’s bargain, and Steve has had quite enough of hell and its denizens to last himself at least two lifetimes.

Steve swallows down a retort—if he’s not going to try to manipulate his way out of this he’s certainly not going to dig his hole any deeper—and crosses to the front of the room to grab the test from Mr. Donovan’s hand.

***

Almost all of the tables in the small library are full by the time Steve shuffles through the door right on the heel of the final bell. The only one free is the rickety wooden table near the back that has one leg about half an inch too short that always wobbles whenever someone so much as looks at it. Steve sighs, but he resigns himself to sneaking a book thin enough to wedge under the table leg off the shelf while Mrs. Miller is looking away.

A minute later, Steve is cycling through a large stack of very small books when he’s startled by someone speaking from behind him. “I’d go with The Awakening.”

“Huh?” Steve doesn’t even turn around, singularly focused as he is on making this table passably usable for taking the goddamn Chemistry test.

“The Awakening? Kate Chopin? Perfect profile for wedging under there.”

Steve scans the spines of his pile until he spots the book. Fishing it out, he sees that there is a small indent on the front cover that looks suspiciously similar to the shape of the table feet. Sure enough, it settles into place easily, and winks the wobble into nonexistence.

“Perfect, thank you.” Steve finally turns enough to catch sight of his savior. It’s another kid from Donovan’s fifth period Chemistry, but Steve can’t recall his name. If he puts his mind to it and casts back far and wide, he can maybe conjure an image of a darker-skinned teen sitting at the same cafeteria table as Eddie freaking Munson, but there’s a strong chance Steve’s just extrapolating based on the fact that the guy is currently wearing one of the silly “Hellfire Club” t-shirts. Not that knowing his extracurriculars helps at all with remembering what to call him. Steve’s never been the best at names and faces, but he’s starting to think Billy knocked something loose up there when he knocked him out (that’s basically what a concussion is, right?), because he can usually at least come up with some vague impression of a sound even if it’s off. His head is totally blank on this one.

Trying to recall the guy’s name just leaves him awkwardly staring into the middle distance, though. So when Hellfire Guy drops into one of the chairs at the table, it startles him into following suit. Hellfire Guy drops an identical packet to Steve’s on the table.

“You too?” Steve asks.

Hellfire Guy just kind of stares at him with a confused smile. “Why’d you think I was here during our shared class, Harrington?”

Steve flushes. “I didn’t really think before I spoke, to be honest.”

“Well at least you’re honest.” His new tablemate flashes a more genuine grin. “I was out with strep last week. Frankie grabbed my assignments for me, so I just have to make up this stupid test.”

Steve nods, pretending to know who Frankie is, and refusing to wish that he’d had someone willing to grab his assignments while he’d been out. It’s not like he could have done anything about them when he was sleeping two-thirds of the day away.

Steve settles at the table, and as he moves to start writing his name at the top of the page, he realizes that’s the perfect way to figure out Hellfire Guy’s name without seeming like a total jackass. He flicks his eyes across the table to try to catch a glimpse of what the other kid is writing. But Steve’s ability to parse other people’s handwriting is lackluster on a good day. Throwing in the additional obstacles of trying to read something upside down from a foot away and he may as well be trying to read French. He can’t get even a halfway decent look without having to strain himself awkwardly—which he nearly does, forgetting that the whole point of this exercise was to be discreet.

Hellfire Guy looks up to meet Steve’s gaze, and he looks a tad irked. “You trying to cheat off of me, Harrington?”

“No, no, I—” Steve cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t remember your name,” he says. The Steve of a year ago wouldn’t even care about whether or not he knew some nerd’s name. He doesn’t want to be that guy anymore, and yet he’s still right here in the same exact place. Only now he does care, and the fact that he can’t remember the name of a guy who’s sat two rows over from him for the last three and a half months is just embarrassing. “But I didn’t want you to think—” Steve blows out a sharp breath. “It seemed stupid to ask.”

Hellfire Guy blinks. “My name’s Jeff,” he says, without any hint of judgment or annoyance shading his tone. Jeff tilts his head and looks at Steve with an intent sort of squinting look. “Hargrove really did a number on you, huh?”

“Oh.” Steve hadn’t been expecting that response. “Yeah.” He paints a charming smile onto his face. He doesn’t want to talk about this. “We should probably stop talking before Mrs. Miller starts to think we are cheating.”

Jeff opens his mouth as though to say something, but then glances over the front desk. Mrs. Miller is talking to another student, but rather than call Steve out on his obvious deflection he just shrugs and returns to working on his own test. Steve lets out a slow steady exhale of relief and continues working on his own.

It doesn’t take long for the headache that’s been building all day to bloom into something distractingly painful. Even if parts of the test didn’t reference material that he entirely missed while he was out, all of the questions about stuff that he does recognize are about things he’s been struggling to grasp. The multiple choice section was fine—even if he’s not particularly confident he knows the answers to more than three of the questions, at least he can just guess and move on. But he’s thoroughly stuck on the segment of the test where he has to balance equations.

“Are you okay, man?”

Steve jolts in his seat and looks up at Jeff, who’s staring at him with what Steve takes to be genuine concern—as out of place as that should be on a nerdy junior whose name he didn’t know remember less than thirty minutes ago. Beyond that—what was Steve doing that even prompted Jeff to ask? “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Dude, you’re ripping your hair out, and you sound like a dying lawnmower.”

Steve immediately drops the hand that he didn’t realize had been tugging at his roots from his head, and flushes red. Maybe Billy punched a few holes through his filter while he was doing his best to cave his face in. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. You stuck on something?”

Steve scoffs a bit. “All of it.” He runs a hand through his hair again, but this time to try to reverse some of the damage. “I hate balancing equations.”

Tagging: @eriquin @inairbinad @delta-piscium @steventhusiast @bifuriouswaterbender @xenon-demon @steves-strapcollection @spicysix

[liminalmemories21]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @carlos-in-glasses, @heartstringsduet, @strandnreyes, @jesuisici33, @orchidscript, @three-drink-amy, @paperstorm, @louis-ii-reyes-strand, @theghostofashton. Thank you!

I should probably admit I'm writing this at this point and actually figure out a plot. Hmm. Anyway.

He stares at the envelope trying to decide what reaction he's supposed to have.  Well, that's not true.  He knows he should be appreciative, grateful.  And, he is.  It's a thoughtful, unexpected, kind gesture.  But honestly, mostly he's just baffled. He clears his throat.  "Babe." TK doesn't look up from the article he's reading, makes a vague interested noise that lifts just enough at the end to count as a question.  He tries again, louder, with more emphasis.  "Babe." That does get TK to look up.  It takes him a moment to focus on Carlos, and he blinks at him for a second, surfacing from whatever academic fugue he'd been in.  "You rang?" He holds up the envelope.  "Your dad got me a full treatment at a day spa?"  He looks down at the card again to confirm that is what it said. TK blinks at him again, and his eyes drift back to his laptop.  "Oh?" He glares at TK.  "TK!" TK looks up again.  "Sorry, yes.  Okay."  He frowns.  "My dad gave you a gift certificate to a day spa?"  He nods, feeling vindicated that TK agrees with him that this is thoughtful, but weird, and then TK continues, "Sorry, I'm not seeing the problem?" He gestures with the envelope.  "Why?" TK tilts his head.  "He likes massages and getting facial treatments.  He likes you.  He wanted to do something nice?" He looks back down at the card.  "Wait, is this like a bonding thing?  Are we supposed to go together?" TK snorts, and when Carlos looks at him TK is entirely too entertained, and Carlos narrows his eyes at him.  TK holds up a hand in apology.  "I don't think he's envisioning a couple's massage, babe.  I think you're safe." He looks down at the card again.  "Okay, but why?" TK shrugs, eyes trying to slide back to the article he was reading, and Carlos has never previously considered being jealous of a JSTOR account, but as the semester ramps up he's starting to.  He taps his foot to reclaim TK's attention.  "Why?" TK shrugs again.  "Seriously, babe, I don't think there's an ulterior motive here.  He likes you.  He knows this has been an adjustment for both of us.  He wanted to do something nice."

tagging @iboatedhere, @rmd-writes, @chicgeekgirl89, @freneticfloetry

[roguishcat]

WIP Wednesday

Here's a snippet from an AU two-shot that I am working on where Astarion was never turned (I wanted to have something Cazador-free). The working title is 'Completely Hypothetical'. So humor/romance/eventual smut with Astarion wanting to be suave and ending up being endearingly awkward whilst trying to figure out whatever in the world Tav could be to him.

Shadowheart stopped by Astarion's office before leaving for the day and sat down on the sofa opposite his desk, crossing her shapely legs as she looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“Halsin asked Tav out, you know. And she said yes. They are meeting for drinks tonight, probably right about now.”

Astarion did not look up from the papers strewn across his desk. “Thank you for that information, not that I asked.”

“So I take it that you don’t care?”

“Not in the slightest,” he waved her question off, as if it was completely inconsequential and unimportant, lifted the cup of coffee off his table and took a sip. He definitely would have to pull an all-nighter, with the workload being absolutely impossible.

“Good, good. That’s what I thought too. Which is why I told Tav that it wasn’t slutty at all to go all the way on the first date.”

He choked on his coffee.

She quirked an eyebrow and waited a beat for her words to sink in. “And then, being a good friend, I made sure that Tav had three types of condoms in her bag. Halsin looks like a big boy, but you never know what size they might actually need.”

Astarion could not reply because he was still trying to cough up his lungs, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

“But never mind that, I’m sure you have a marvelous evening ahead of you,” Shadowheart smirked, getting up and smoothing the front of her pencil skirt out. “I, for one, am meeting up with Karlach in an hour, so have a nice weekend.” With that she walked out of his office, her heels clicking in a way that could only be described as smug.

It didn’t matter to him if she slept with Halsin. Hells, it didn’t matter if she slept with half the city. It was none of his business. He had their monthly brunches to look forward to. The next one would be in a couple of weeks, or 26 days, or 624 hours. Not that he was counting.

And that was how Astarion found himself standing across the street from the place that he heard Tav go on about. He guessed correctly, she was indeed at that exact restaurant.

Astarion scowled as he saw that she actually made a real effort for this date, looking absolutely delicious, if he said so himself.

He could have taken her there. It could be him sitting across from Tav now. Reaching out to wipe a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth with his napkin, she really was a messy pup sometimes, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Leaning forward to-

“Oh, hells no,” Astarion hissed, watching as Halsin leaned forward to whisper something in Tav’s ear, making her blush prettily.

“You deserve it, you know.”

He jumped at the familiar voice. Karlach was looking at him with a smirk, Shadowheart standing next to her tiefling.

“What are you doing here?”

“On no, Shadowheart, Astarion’s been discovered!” Karlach stage whispered. “Spying on a person on her date like some kind of creep.”

“And you two? Don’t tell me you just happened to stroll past this particular restaurant at this exact time, hm?”

“Oh, we are nosy, alright” Karlach admitted readily with a shrug. “But we are rooting for this date to be a success. And I bet Shadowheart that you would turn up. Pay up, baby!”

Shadowheart grumbled and got her phone out, sending the money to Karlach. “You see, I had some faith in you. Should have known better.”

[devondespresso]

Wiggly-Worm Wednesday!! 🧠🪱

speeding through this before Wednesday ends (the deadline is both extremely malleable and entirely self-enforced and also time isn't real)

tagged by the lovely @hbyrde36 thank you!!

Today the worms are Connected they're connecting dots and doing a great job at it!

my non-fic worm is kinda branching off the first 1k i wrote for stwg's fic exchange, which then hopped skipped and jumped over into its own idea and now I'm enjoying my down time imagining the shenanigans of Robin sneaking Steve over post s4, like living in her bedroom hiding in the closet shenanigans cause his parents aren't back and the hospital had to discharge him to help other patients and she can't just leave him home alone that's a recipe for disaster so really she basically had no choice but to sneak him in through her ground-floor window with a duffel bag under her bed and steal a couple of her dads button down shirts because Steve's a dingus and didn't bring any even though any pullover is a pain in the back-and-tricep-roadrash right now.

so of course robins parents find out because stashing away a whole ass adult man in a bedroom for more than a day or so is actually pretty difficult even when he's not gravely injured. in my head they're pretty understanding after they get to cool down a bit, its not like steve was never around before and he'd always been polite, plus even if they still did think stobin were secretly dating, they're clearly not doing anything and the only reason Robin didn't just ask was because she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

And then on the actual wips front i had the brilliant why-didnt-i-think-of-this-sooner idea to pick a wip to work on based on what i was brainworming just for fun, which led me to my actual stobin wip and within like 20 minutes i had a couple epiphanies about the connective themes im exploring like realizing what i was putting together without realizing. (cut because oh god this got long fast)

Its ended up being a lot about gender, the imaginary wall between girls and guys in a friendship sense that feels solid just because you haven't had the proof that its not really there yet, the heteronormativity and amatonormativity driving a wedge between possible friendships. in this fic, robins really apprehensive about forming any kind of connection with steve because she's had the experience of guys only being interested in dating that she has a lot of mistrust around and m/f friendships that start forming (and ofc it ends with post starcourt platonic with a capital P soulmateisms 💕). i also have this little struggle where like if i can name multiple important theme-y words i fear ive got too many going on, so i was afraid this whole loneliness thing I've got for robin was going to conflict with the gender thing but i think ive got it sorted, they're different levels and their connected ideas, robins escape from loneliness means she has to break through her internal gender wall and let it be broken, plus the loneliness is going to be more explicit in the text because robins like fully aware of it while the gender stuff is probably going to stay mostly subtext and be much broader, popping up in steves pov area too and really all around them.

also had no clue how relevant it would be but steve and robin are like perfectly balanced blurred gender lines like steve is a masculine dude comfortable in his masculinity that also has a healthy relationship with his feminine trait, the hair stuff the babysitter/mom friend thing, he's not ashamed of any of it (and actually i had a longer post on Steve's gender balance somewhere in my drafts but we don't have time rn) and then robins like practically the same in her expression of femininity, she's as far as we see comfortably a girl, wears makeup, loved that movie about doomed love, she's got her feminine traits but also likes dabbling in masculine traits, she dresses more masc (tho its still a solid middle ground, comfort is a big focus), she likes ufos and creepy stuff and jokes about spider babies in hair. idk it just felt like they're a matching set as far as gender goes, if they did combine into one being they'd be bigender 100%

anyway uhhh this got long thank you for sticking around fyjdtjdgjdyj

tagging (no pressure and no deadline, im sorry Wednesday is already basically over dyjxjydgj): @momotonescreaming @stellarspecter @dreamwatch @pearynice @withacapitalp

@queenie-ofthe-void @carolperkinsexgirlfriend @writing-kiki @eriquin @eyesofshinigami

(Vague Rules just in case this makes no sense xtjsdjtdyj: it's technically just Wiggly Wednesday and its where you just post your brainworms/fun ideas of the past week/day/whatever. its super loose, i like talking about brainworms for things ill never write and things im currently writing but you can do whatever. no set number of ppl to tag, just have fun!)

@puppy-steve @hairstevington @hotluncheddie @gleek4twd @klausinamarink

@soaringornithopter