that's how fast it happens

For clarity, the "Mystery Ship" is a rare pair and mostly on here for fun because I seem to keep returning to them, despite literally not one single person asking for it.

I have about 500 WIPs on my laptop, but these are the ones that actually have a good chance of seeing the light of day.

“So… soulmates,” Clark chimes in. There’s a murmuring in the crowd, the word getting repeated, passed around. Luke smiles at Helena. Say no, Allie thinks. Just say no.

“F***, fine, I don’t know, maybe. Sure, it could be soulmates,” Gordie gives in. She meets Harry’s eyes across the church, where he’s sitting, hands clasped, frowning. I better get going before anyone realizes I’m your dirty little secret. The words hang between them, painful because she doesn’t know how to deny them, doesn’t know if she can. It’s just complicated, Harry and Cassandra make it complicated.

If this makes you mad, the Federal Register is currently open to comments on AI accountability until June 20th, 2023.

It only takes a second to leave a comment to ask for legislation that works used in AI creations or training MUST secure the express consent of the original creator before they can be used. If we can get protections for artists, writers, musicians and everyone who creates that their work cannot be used in AI without their permission, we can go back to making fanworks freely available without fear of them being misused. Until then, we're stuck playing defense until the courts catch up.

(If you're a fan creator looking to do this as well, AO3 has a tool to let you do all your fics at the same time in seconds. On your dashboard, go to Edit Works and you'll be able to change the status on everything at once.)

Some wounds, Lucy knows, take longer than others. Some scar, permanent. An ache in your bones when it rains. But she thinks it could be beautiful, to watch him heal.

Lucy doesn’t like the quiet. She thinks it should be a relief. That she should be comforted by the gentle stillness of the attic bedroom, when so much of her life is filled with the clamoring of lost souls. But she doesn’t know how to read the absence of sound. There’s no solace in it. Instead, it feels like the calm before the storm, a lingering sense of impending doom. The instant before the other shoe drops.

“So… soulmates,” Clark is unabashedly unhappy about this. It’s no secret that Gwen wakes up with Andrew every morning, not him. There’s a sort of soft hum that goes through the church, waiting for Gordie’s answer. Like he knows any more than the rest of them. Like it all hinges on what he says next.

“F***, fine, I don’t know, maybe. Sure, it could be soulmates,” Gordie gives in. And it’s like there’s some sort of magnet drawing his gaze upward, Harry helpless to resist, as he meets Allie’s eyes across the church. She looks scared, more than anything.

Harry feels his lips twist up in that smile he doesn’t mean, that one he learned so long ago he doesn’t think about anymore. It’s not like things are different than they were three days ago. He’s still just a secret she’s afraid someone will figure out.