I'm a queer guy in my 40s: AFAB non-binary, bi+/pansexual, polyamorous, and kinky. I use he/him and xe/xim pronouns. I'm also geeky, white, and not religious. I use tumblr to follow people I find interesting. I don't post WIP stories, but what I've finished is over on AO3 under V_Haley.
Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask, and I'll write 3-5 sentences and/or paragraphs from that WIP for each emoji! No limits to the amount or kind of emojis you can request.
š Goose Girl Boy Steve (transmasc Steve / Steddie)
šŗ Werewolf Steve (Nancy / Jonathan / Steve)
šµ Lay of the Ashes (Rising Free) - sequel to "Sing if You're Glad to be Gay" (Steddie)
š§Ŗ 003 / escaped lab kid Steve (steddie)
š§āāļø A Fairy's Tale (Jeff/Steve) - childhood friends to reconciled lovers
š Joyride or Die WIP - sequel to the Road and the Sky (steddissy)
š² Roll your dice what I work on
Also the Stranger Things Writers Discord is currently in the middle of 20 hours of sprints for AO3's downtime. Even though our beloved archive has returned to us, sprints are ongoing if folks care to join us!
A snippet of Joyride or Die:
She had Eddie drop her off two blocks away from Mary's. Party gossip would have filled her best friend in that she left with Steve. When Chrissy came back this late, Mary would assume things happenedāespecially since it was Steve Harrington and everyone new his repābut she'd cover for that the same way Chrissy had covered for her plenty of times. She'd slip into Mary's house, change into PJs, and the night would be nothing but a hoarded memory.
Chrissy didn't account for rumors.
She'd left Jason at parties before, but usually after he'd gotten obnoxiously drunk. She'd never left any of those parties with infamous party boy Steve Harrington, whose year of flirting with monogamy had blown up in a public fight and an equally public drink being thrown in his face. Or Nancy's face. Everyone knew that a drink had been thrown, anyway. Just like everyone knew his girlfriend had left with Jonathan Byers, the guy she'd cheated on him with last year. Everyone knew Steve had left with Chrissy Cunningham, even if the timeline was a little fuzzy on when who left with whom.
But he must have fucked Chrissy to get back at Nancy. Nancy must have fucked Jonathan to get back at Steve.
Chrissy didn't even have a chance to give Jason the "it's not you, it's me" speech because he called her a cheating bitch in homeroom, and she was single by first period. It's what she'd wanted, but it stung, especially with the truth of it. She had cheated, technically, even if she'd meant to break it off with Jason when she'd done it. But it wasn't a secret. He knew and he was telling the school and no one believed that she'd tried to drop Steve off and hit a deer, even with Steve showing up with white gauze wrapping his arm to corroborate her. It didn't matter what time she'd come home: it only mattered that she left with Steve.
Half of her friends weren't speaking to her. It was a rough morning.
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āAhhh, is where I can see all my ratings and reviews from rides Iāve given,ā Ilya said, winked, ārides on my dick.ā
Shane blinked at him. āWhat.ā
āIs silly app,ā Ilya said, turned the phone back to himself, and then clicked into Svetlanaās latest review - just the preview of it in which it showed sheād given him five stars and a tip, as well as leaving a photo - and then turned the phone back to Shane. āMy friend made for me as silly present. Sometimes I share with people I fuck, and they rate me. Is funny.ā
This is a silly fic that takes itself seriously. Ilya has a app to rate him in bed, and Shane is mad, horny, and also going to fill out his ride reviews every single time with dedication and focus.
Hollanov, Shane/Others, Ilya/Others, Scott Hunter/Many, Ryan Price/Many | Explicit | secret gay hockey player network AU, feat. my army of hockey OCs
Chapter preview:
The lady at the front of the room burst into tears for the tenth time, took an eternity composing herself, then whimpered about her family abandoning her after she smoked meth on Christmas. "That's what finally shook me out of it," she said. "Like, 'if a tree falls in the woods,' you know? I was hurting myself, and there was no one around to see it happen."
Micky slouched in his folding chair. His phone was tucked next to his thigh, subtle, but a guy across the aisle was giving him the stink eye. Paulsen had posted a bunch of vacation photos on Instagram. Most were of the kids, kitted out in outdoor gear, holding fish half as big as they were, grinning like maniacs. There was one of Paulsen and his ex-wife, him at the steering wheel of a boat, her arms draped over his shoulders, cheek pressed to the side of his head.
Picture fucking perfect family.
His phone buzzed once in his hand, a news alert dropping over Allie's face. Micky could only read the word LOCKOUT before a notification from the encrypted chat overtook it. Micky tapped the innocuous shield icon and typed his password while the woman up front burst into tears again.
With coding and art by the deliciously devoted @mock-speed
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Finding out AI companies are chewing through - literally, theyāre pulping and burning them as they go - millions of books often including 1/1s and old texts that cannot be reprinted
Meanwhile thereās always some dipshit telling me AI is the future and weāve got to just let companies erase human history and literature so they can train their abomination machines to pretend to think like people because a judge said itās fine
I want an AU where Steve is a werewolf and Eddie is a vampire except neither of them know about the other.
Eddie is the frontman of an up and coming band, but he's left his coven and surrounded himself with humans. They perform after sunset anyway so it's easy enough for him to hide his nature.
Steve has similarly left his toxic family pack and built his own pseudo-pack through the kids. He works as a park ranger. Or an ornithologist. Or something else nature-y/nerdy. But no one knows about his furry little secret.
Maybe Steve ends up attending a concert with one of the kids who has VIP passes and Eddie zeros in on Steve immediately at the meet and greet because he's pretty and preppy and delightfully out of place and also he smells good.
And Steve is having similar thoughts, but he tries to play it off because there's no way an honest to god rock star would be interested in him and his polo and his boat shoes (also his hearing is temporarily fucked from the concert, so he doesn't register Eddie's lack of heartbeat).
After some light flirting, Eddie invites Steve back to his hotel and Steve is like, you know what? Yes. I am going to have a one night stand with the gorgeous front man of a metal band and I'll probably fall a little in love with him by the end of the night and it will break my heart when he kicks me out in the morning, but it will be an experience. Let me go drop off my kids and I'll be right back.
Except what he doesn't know is Eddie is planning to have a little snack while they're in the throes of passionāānot enough to hurt Steve or anything, just enough that he'll have a pleasurable blackout and wake up tired but sated.
The only problem is that neck-biting (that breaks the skin) for wolves is the equivalent of marriage.
So when Eddie bites Steve, instead of a venom-drunk human, peacefully slipping into sleep in his arms, he gets a very horny, very confused, werewolf who is now insisting that they're married.
I can't decide if it would be funnier if Wolves/Vampires didn't know about each other, Ie:
"You're a Werewolf?" Eddie says, "What do you mean you're a werewolf? Werewolves exist? No. Shut up. Prove it."
And:
"Holy shit. A vampire. Vampires are real," Steve reaches for Eddie's face and Eddie is so baffled by the everything of this situation that he lets Steve pinch Eddie's top lip and peel it up off his fangs for a mortifyingly long moment. Eddie draws the line when he starts poking at Eddie's incisors, though.
"Why do I feel funny?" Steve mutters. "Will your venom kill me?"
"How should I know," Eddie hisses, only a little hysterical, "I didn't know wolves existed until two minutes ago, I've never bitten a wolf before."
"And you won't be biting any others, mister. Infidelity is not ok."
The other option is that wolves and vamps DO know about each other but stay so isolated in their covens and packs (and loners are super unusual) that they never interact. So Steve and Eddie are both like, dang, I'd been raised to think all of your kind were smelly/ugly/gross, but you uh, don't fit into that box at all. Weird.
Regardless, Steve (still naked, probably) crosses his arms all huffy, like, "well, we're married now, you're not going to bite me and then cast me aside like some harlot," and Eddie is like "...I'm weirdly ok with this, actually. No arguments here." And eventually they live happily ever after.
I am very excited to maybe one day read your next story. āØMarc DelacroixāØ is my favourite character. Sadly there are so few fics about him yet. :(
He's such a wonderful character, it's a shame that no one has written about him :((
The fic is going decently well -- I ran into a bit of a snag where I wrote the first two chapters of Shane Marc having his kidnapping revelation with Hayden and Jackie, and then I realized I was jumping through hoops to get him back to Ilya...and was like, hm, maybe I should just have him...have this revelation at the cottage. So now I'm rewriting a bunch, but I think the fic is stronger for it :)
As a thank you for the kind message, here's the first scene of the fic! Feat. Yuna Hollander being Sad and Professional
Yuna Hollander will look back on this moment laterāher first time meeting her son in 25 yearsāwith a mixture of fondness and spine-crushing guilt. This is not the moment it should have been. This is a series of perfectly composed photographs with engineered-to-look-natural smiles plastered on their faces. Here, Marc Delacroix handing over a gift basket of signed Metros merch for the Project Home Charity Auction. Here, Marc Delacroix shaking her hand. Here, Yuna sandwiched between him and Hayden Pike, all of them grinning at the camera.
She doesnāt even grin as hard as she wants to. Part of her is giddy as a schoolgirl at the fact that sheās here, in the Bell Centre, meeting the man who singlehandedly led her favorite team to two Stanley Cups. But right now sheās not Yuna Hollander, hockey fan. Sheās Yuna Hollander, charity director of an anti-human-trafficking organization, and that Yuna Hollander does not get to smile big enough to make her cheeks hurt. That Yuna Hollander has to be perfectly calm, and composed, and sympathetic at all times.
Itās her best chance. She figured that out a long time ago. If sheās not too angry, or too wild with grief, or God forbid too happy, then she sticks in peopleās minds. Shane sticks in peopleās minds. They stay the perfect tragedy, and maybe someone will remember them at just the right moment, and then maybe she will get her son back.
It hasnāt worked so far. But that doesnāt mean that she can stop trying. She could forgive herself, she thinks, if she died without knowing what happened to Shane. She could not forgive herself if she died knowing she couldāve done more.
Marc Delacroix is nice. Thatās her first impression of him. Heās a polite young man who gives her the same sad smile that most people give her, and tells her how important her work is, and privately offers her rinkside tickets of her own to match the two nestled in the gift basket.
āMy husband and I have season tickets,ā she says. āBut thank you for the offer.ā
āOh, we have a real fan!ā Hayden Pike says, slinging an arm over Delacroixās shoulders. āThatās a nice change of pace. Most of the time the charity orgs barely recognize me, and only know DC from his Timās ads. You looking forward to watching us stomp Boston tomorrow?ā
āOf course,ā Yuna says, relaxing a little. The camera crews have retreated, having gotten all the promotional material they need for both Project Home and the Metrosā Instagrams. She can be herself, maybe, if only for a moment. āThat new rookie of theirs is awful, Iāve been watching their second line crumble with delight.ā
āRozanov sees potential in him, Iāve heard,ā Delacroix says, relaxing alongside her. Some of the sadness trickles out of his smile. Hockey-Fan Yuna is easier to talk to than Missing-Child Yuna. Sheās known that for a long time, too. She knows that Shane is a wall between her and the world. āWeāll see if itās warranted.ā
āLetās get you some signed jerseys, at least,ā Pike says. āWe have a ton of extras laying around, you have no ideaāā
In the end, she does accept the gift of two signed jerseys, wondering if sheāll have to disclose them in Project Homeās year-end financial report. Sheāll wonder the same thing six months from now, huddled around a campfire with her husband and her son, watching the Delacroix jersey burn.
People will ask her about this day. Theyāll ask her if she had known, shaking Delacroixās hand. If she had felt some deep, enduring connection, something that the years and miles hadnāt stolen from them.
āI thought that he was a very kind young man,ā sheāll say diplomatically. āAnd that his parents must be very proud of him.ā
Of course I didnāt know, sheāll want to scream. They wouldnāt have been able to publish a single photo from that day, if Iād have known. Itād be like publishing a photo of a trainwreck, showing the dead bodies piled up on the tracks. My heart wouldāve been a pile of blood on the ground. He wouldāve had to hold me upright to keep me from collapsing.
Of course she doesnāt know. She feels nothing but excitement, chatting hockey with Marc Delacroix. It isnāt surprising, really. Sheās always been a terrible mother.
one of my friends in a discord server was talking about how they were nervous about their first scheduled acupuncture appointment. another friend offered to do a tarot reading for them. sent this picture.
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Everyone: omg Hollander leash your dog, Ilya is barking at opponent hockey players again
Shane Enabler Hollander: ok so Ilyusha this player has had zero assists in the entire season, he got drafted last, and finally - and this is crucial - he once scored a goal in his own team's net
Ilya Heart Eyes Rozanov: thank you my ShaneWiki this is valuable data, off I go
Following an afternoon of sex and tuna melts, Shane goes searching for the explicit rules of what being 'friends with benefits' entails. In his humble opinion, they're nailing it.
Once friendship is on the table, Shane reconsiders the usefulness and immutability of the public rivalry narrative. Surely the NHL can make just as much money from a bromance as it can from a rivalry?
A missed call from J.J., a dinner at All-Stars, and an ill-considered mad dash to the airport send Shane's season in a very different direction to the disciplined three-peat he'd been planning back in October.
ā
"This rivalry thing: it was everyone else who said we hated each other off the ice. Thereās no rule that says we have to keep doing that forever.ā Shane stared outside, past the blinding billboards and down at the streets below. āIt was nice. Hanging out, last time.ā
He knew what it looked like when Rozanov shut down, when he closed himself off and pushed the world away. Heād finish the conversation abruptly, curt, clipped, and retreat. So Shane knew heād won when Rozanov finally answered with: āAre we six years old, Hollander? Asking if I want to play in sandpit with you?"
Read on Ao3 here.
ā¢POV Shane Hollander ā¢Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence ā¢A Tuna-Melt Remix ā¢Bromance ā¢Denial of Feelings ā¢Explicit Sexual Content ā¢Friends with Benefits ā¢Getting Together ā¢Ilya Rozanov Makes Tuna Melts ā¢Internalized Homophobia ā¢Public Relations ā¢Self-Denial ā¢Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov Situationship ā¢Situationships -The Situationship to Friends-With-Benefits to Boyfriends Pipeline
Hey so that was a great date, yeah, but I don't think it's going to work out. Nono you didn't do anything wrong, and I have indeed had a crush on you since we started high school, it's just... well, I didn't want to bring it up at the time but we kinda got sucked into a portal fantasy midway through. We saved the kingdom over and over, relying on our knowledge of and trust in each other every time, throwing ourselves into the firing line to protect each other and using each others' conviction as a rock. We got married and lived a happy life together until the portal sucked us back mid-battle and you gave up all your memories of our journey in order to save my life right when we ended up back in the coffee shop. Yeah that was when I got a bit weird and went to the bathroom.
Anyway I thought we could push on and make the date work but I have all of these memories of secrets that this you never chose to share, decisions that this you never made, and intimacies that this you never experienced. And it's kind of screwing with the vibe yeah. Also on the date it was really, blatantly clear that you're sixteen whereas I have memories of ruling a fantasy kingdom for thirty years so like... that's a problem all on its own. Anyway this you just feels more like a daughter to me. A daughter with the woman I gave my heart and soul to over and over and received like in return, only to lose her forever on the journey home. On the plus side I can definitely help you with your math homework now.
"hey toast you stayed up past midnight because you were working on the fic and not because you were procrastinating by making a hideous pattern for a joke cross stitch" have you never met a writer before
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i actually canāt think how about the discussion wrt bigotry in the nhl was lead by a group of white players + shane hollander and while the white players were lamenting on how difficult hockey culture was to navigate shaneās white partner was looking at him thinking āhockey had never made shane sad a day in his lifeā and ā[ilya] was more aware of hockeyās flaws than shane wasā like. even if i ignore the literal mammoth in the room about how the single person of colour present at the table is ignorant to systemic bigotry while the white players are enlightened and determined to make positive change. in what universe is sidney-crosby-with-the-serial-numbers-filed-off completely unaware of hockeyās dark side? grown adults were talking about breaking sidās arms and screaming in his face at games. he couldnāt wear his gear into the rink from fear of violence from parents. his own parents sent him to a school in another country because they feared for his safety. youāre telling me japanese canadian shane hollander just. what. floated through life blissfully oblivious until his white partner got to explain to him how the world actually works. give me a fucking break
Iāve got a lot of Thoughts(tm) about The Odyssey at the moment, but damnit Blum Iām an archer, not a film critic, so hereās something in my lane!
