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chelleinyy · 6 months

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Your Fault (BGTW)

To Lawson, it was justice, but to others, it was the worst that could have happened. Among Lawson's "enemies," the Rochesters faced particularly harsh treatment, with Lawson denying any member of the family the freedom to walk unhindered. Despite Bernadine Rochester's innocence, she becomes ensnared in Lawson's grasp, apprehended alongside her family. Worried for her well-being, Arthur Wright decides to intervene, but this choice comes at the cost of a falling-out with Lawson, which breaks all bonds.

Author's note:

This is part of a Capitol Peak AU that @asharkapologist and I made. It's called "Blood Goes to Waste" or BGTW for short. Simply said, the remaining Rochesters do not have a happy ending and are sentenced to death by guillotine.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

PHYSICAL AND VERBAL VIOLENCE, ABUSE OF POWER.

(!!) Spoilers for Mysteries of The Past.

Word Count: 4,462.

The sun had set below the horizon, and many of the staff had already left city hall. Evening had arrived, and it was at this moment that Arthur stepped through the entrance. Patiently biding his time since the early afternoon, he had awaited the opportune moment when city hall would be sufficiently deserted.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Arthur greeted, nodding to the scattered Corps members stationed around the doorway. Some responded with a nod of their own, while others remained impassive.

"Why the late visit, Chief Wright?" asked a soldier.

"Meeting with the mayor," Arthur explained. The soldier acknowledged his response with another nod, permitting Arthur to pass through the doorway and into the hall.

Arthur felt a sense of relief at the limited presence of the Corps within city hall during the night, with fewer soldiers conducting patrols. A formidable number of Justice Corps members stood sentinel on the entrance steps, enough to dissuade any casual onlooker from approaching too closely. But when evening fell, the Corps had begun their shifts, patrolling the city streets.

Arthur had lingered in the vicinity for such a duration that even Jaubert, in his rounds, passed by without much notice. The recollection of their brief encounter, which was thankfully short, lingered in Arthur's mind. He had been interrogated about his presence outside his airship, to which he replied that he, too, was conducting street patrols. It wasn't entirely truthful, for it could have been Bontemps or Madeline in his stead. As the chief of the Flying Squad, Arthur's duty to the regime involved submitting detailed reports on his team's activities, just as Lawson wanted it.

"You're meant to coordinate your team's movements, Chief Wright. This is within the capabilities of your men," Jaubert had pointed out, ever so astute. "Is this a matter I should bring to the mayor's attention?" he had added.

Disagreeing with the Inspector, Arthur had partially disclosed the truth, explaining that he awaited entry to city hall, aware that Mayor Lawson was occupied with numerous responsibilities. Jaubert, slightly mollified, tempered his suspicions.

Strolling through the hallways of the building, Arthur cast a glance at the walls adorned with red banners, each proudly displaying the gold justice insignia above paintings. In some corners, the statues of Lady Justice now brandished swords, her arms extended evenly to wield both the sword and scales. The change struck Arthur as rather unsettling, especially in the dimly lit corridors of city hall, creating an eerie effect.

As he made his way toward the mayor's office, situated on the top floor, he climbed the marble steps, and he couldn’t help but sigh heavily.

"These staircases are hardly well lit," Arthur muttered. "Lawson seems to be turning city hall into a dim lair. Judge Takakura laments that the only light source here is when you draw back the curtains, a preference that apparently suits Lawson's taste."

As he passed by windows, Arthur observed that the view provided a clear sight of the city below. Now he understood the strategic window placement and why Lawson always insisted on keeping the curtains open.

"The architects of this building certainly did their work well," said Arthur, glancing around. "But this regime makes it rather unsettling. Unfortunately, Lawson is beyond paranoid."

Arthur, though hesitant to voice it aloud, knew that his statement held truth. The regime was stringent, with Lawson being the staunchest advocate of justice even before his mayoral term. Both he and Lawson had promised change, a better Concordia. They both agreed on that.

However, in this regime, the anticipated change was far from an ideal Concordia. Arthur would never know if he and Lawson had shared the same vision when discussing a corruption-free and crime-free city. There were no jests in those conversations, for those were always hopeful, ideas that could be considered goals. Ambitions that slowly became reality as Lawson always won the positions he signed up for.

It was evident that Lawson got what he wanted. Arthur couldn't ignore the palpable power imbalance. Lawson handed out, or rather barked, orders to his men, and the Corps never acted without his directives, except for Inspector Jaubert, of course. Lawson reassured them that the Justice Corps was akin to the Flying Squad, a similar branch of security. Arthur saw little resemblance.

Lawson favored his own men, entrusting them with orders more than the Flying Squad. Were they not up to his standards? Despite the Flying Squad's proven capabilities, even before Lawson became mayor, Arthur perceived that, in Lawson's eyes, the Justice Corps held a higher standing than the Flying Squad.

"I sent him a letter beforehand, notifying him of my arrival two days prior," said Arthur, upon reaching the top floor. "Even this morning, I dispatched a telegraph."

Surveying the landing, Arthur noticed a further dimming of the light. Proceeding toward the east wing, he reached the end of the hall where large mahogany doors stood. Those doors led to the mayor's office, and fortunately, there were no Justice Corps officers flanking the entrance this time. The memory of his previous visit, even for the mundane task of submitting reports to Lawson, still left Arthur uneasy. Day and night, Justice Corps officers roamed the corridors of city hall.

In the dimly lit hall, as he approached the office, an office clerk carrying a suitcase and a handful of documents briskly advanced toward him, calling out.

"Chief Wright?" asked the clerk, gesturing toward Arthur.

Arthur looked at the clerk and nodded.

It seemed the clerk had been expecting him and reciprocated the nod. "Mayor Lawson received your telegraph, sir. He instructed me to ask you to wait outside his office. He's currently in discussion with Madame Umbright."

A twinge of impatience surfaced, and Arthur crossed his arms. He disliked being kept waiting, and he knew Lawson shared the sentiment. The clerk made it clear that Lawson had received his message in advance, and yet this delay persisted. Compounded by the fact that Arthur had been waiting since the afternoon, it was a test of patience. Nevertheless, it wouldn't be prudent to disclose to the clerk that he had been outside city hall the entire afternoon.

"Understood, miss. How long must I wait?" Arthur inquired.

"The meeting is nearly over," the clerk replied. "Madame Umbright is quite persistent about going through matters repeatedly."

Bowing to Arthur once more, the clerk continued her path toward the opposite wing of the hall. As she moved farther away, Arthur heard her fading footsteps as she descended down the steps. He resumed walking toward the door, and the voices within became audible as he drew nearer.

Hastening his steps, he approached the door. Just a few more meters, and he pressed against the wall, awaiting Judge Umbright's exit. Behind the mahogany, he caught sentences, fragments of Lawson and Umbright's conversation, though the door muffled their voices, rendering them indistinct.

"The arrests have surged, Mister Mayor. Takakura keeps complaining..."

"I know he keeps complaining, ma'am. You don’t have to–."

"He does not see that his duty is to dish out sentences that those criminals deserve!"

"Madame Umbright, do not think I have any suspicion against the man."

"Then do something!"

"I believe we can conclude it here…"

“Arrests,” whispered Arthur, who was now listening intently, but could not hear anymore, since perhaps Lawson and Umbright moved a distance away from the door.

The conversation eventually hushed, but it didn’t need to continue for Arthur’s stomach to twist nervously; he knew of the rapidly increasing number of arrests, for even the most minor offense would be considered against the regime, and could even hold the person responsible a life sentence.

Arthur stood in silence near the door, tapping his foot impatiently. The snippets of conversation, though fleeting, left him feeling uneasy. It served as another stark reminder of what he abhorred in this regime—the relentless arrests. What had become of fines and custodial sentences? Even the most minor offense could result in a fifty-year sentence, and Arthur knew that Judge Takakura did not endorse such severe sentences. Punishments are now what they call it. The judge had complained outside the courthouse, asserting that the sentences he handed down were coerced. Arthur knew of the arguments that the judge had gotten into because of this, even being called out by the Corps. Oppressive, but to Lawson, it was justice.

These actions in the regime could reduce someone to a pitiable state. The laws wielded an iron grip, plunging many into poverty. Coupled with the state of law enforcement, it was all lamentable. Arthur vividly recalled witnessing a destitute man being escorted away by the Corps for the offense of stealing bread, pleading for mercy.

It wasn't just the common Concordians who had to be wary. Lawson's political adversaries, though already dealt with, were faring poorly. Lawson had ensured in his speeches that their images would be remembered as enemies of the state, emphasizing how he purged their corruption from Concordia. Arthur had received word from Bontemps earlier that former Senator Malcolm Rochester had been relocated to another prison within Capitol Peak. Alongside him were other Rochesters previously arrested, including Larry and Horatio Rochester. All three were implicated in various deaths, with the latter two personally committing murder. Given Lawson's perspective on the family, the outlook for the entire Rochester family was grim.

Bernadine, unfortunately, might spiral into a relapse if she got wind of the news regarding her family. Arthur, deeply concerned for her, made a point to check on her weekly. Despite being proven innocent to the mayor, the downfall of her family had brought her shame.

Bernadine was the primary reason why he had approached Lawson in the first place.

Over the past three weeks, nearing a month, Arthur hadn't received any word from Bernadine. Lawson's incessant orders kept him occupied, limiting communication to letters and telegraphs, both of which remained unanswered. Whenever possible, he attempted to locate Bernadine, even visiting her estate, only to find it locked and deserted. Searching all of Concordia for her was an impossible feat, even if he desired to do so.

A troubling thought nagged at him. A troubling thought persisted. Lawson harbored no kindness toward any Rochester, regardless of their actions. The same applied to Bernadine, merely because of her last name. Arthur knew they had proven her innocence, and Lawson was aware of it.

Lawson knows she's innocent; my best detectives have proven it. Could he—

"No," he said firmly, shaking his head. He refused to entertain the thought. Lawson, as uptight as he might be, could still be reasonable. Bernadine's own uncle had tried to confine her at Gryphon. She was innocent and had nothing to do with her brother's actions.

Arthur knew she loved her nephew, Archie, but such love was not a crime. Despite his disdain for Archie, Arthur acknowledged Bernadine as a caring aunt who treated her family with love, not as accomplices to sinister schemes.

Yet, a sense of unease lingered. Lawson remained skeptical, even after they had irrefutably proven her innocence.

"Arthur Wright?"

Arthur turned to the woman who had opened the door, giving her a curt nod. "Madame."

"You better make haste, Chief Wright. The mayor does not like being kept waiting," said Umbright, clutching her bag. "He certainly does not appreciate me bringing matters of concern. Says that he knows…"

Umbright continued to mutter to herself as she walked into the hallway, leaving Arthur standing at the door. Something about the woman made her unpleasant, Arthur thought. Her high-pitched voice and over-the-top attitude were enough to infuriate the mayor, despite his similar demeanor.

"Come in, Chief Wright," called Lawson from the office. "I want to make this brief; it's rather late," he added.

Arthur took a breath, steadying himself before entering the office. Smoothing a crease on his coat and hair, he walked through the doors, then shut them behind him.

The mayor's office looked different too. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, but it was certainly unlike what he was accustomed to. Lawson's large desk faced an expansive window, offering a view of the dimmed city below. The right wall was adorned with a bookshelf, while on the opposite side, the insignia of the Justice Corps, along with the symbol of Concordia, adorned the wall. The bust of Castletown that once sat in the corner had vanished, replaced by a table stacked with thick books and a statue of Lady Justice. Surprisingly well-lit, the room featured a chandelier on the ceiling and lamps in the corners, ensuring it stood in contrast to the rest of city hall at night.

"Arthur," came Lawson's voice from behind his desk, where he extinguished his cigar.

"Good evening, sir," said Arthur, bowing respectfully. "My apologies for disturbing you at this time—"

Lawson dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Cut to the chase," he snapped.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur approached the desk. "I came here with a concern."

The mayor raised his eyebrows. "And what is it exactly?"

"To be succinct, sir, our team lacks information on certain aspects of our duty. Arrests, orders—we are in the dark."

This was merely a guise for his true intentions. Arthur didn't want to risk an immediate argument or disagreement. He had to handle this skillfully, hoping Lawson wouldn't easily see through him.

"You are to act based on the orders given by me or when Inspector Jaubert claims they come from me," Lawson said coldly.

"We've noticed a diminishing prominence," Arthur continued, feeling his hands tighten behind his back. "We fulfill our duty, but it seems cooperation between the Flying Squad and the Justice Corps is scarce. We don’t seem to share—"

Lawson raised his hand again. "Did I not say that the Justice Corps is a security force similar to the Flying Squad? Then why do you question it?"

"Sir," Arthur began firmly. "What I mean is that we are not equal in the information given to us, and it not only hampers our duty but personal concerns as well."

This was it; Arthur had to know about Bernadine. No matter if he escalated this cover-up, Lawson would get frustrated either way.

"Personal?" Lawson asked, narrowing his eyes.

Arthur moved closer to the desk, placing his hands on its edge. "You are aware of how I feel towards a certain woman, right?"

“Say what you mean, Arthur.” Lawson said coolly.

“I’ll say it loud and clear. Where is Bernadine? I've checked every source I have, and the only answer I've received—"

"Are you suspecting me?" Lawson asked, his voice rising.

Arthur clenched his hands on the desk. "Yes, I am," he said firmly. "You know of my courtship and her innocence. So answer me. Where is she?"

A tense silence fell between the two men, the desk serving as a barrier. Arthur expected an immediate response from Lawson, given his usual demeanor. However, the mayor appeared momentarily taken aback before placing his hands on the desk, clasping them together, and fixing a cold gaze on Arthur. The silence became more unnerving as Lawson refrained from speaking, a stark contrast to his usual outbursts.

"You're not as well-informed as I thought you were,"

Frustration surged within Arthur. Hadn't he just emphasized that the Flying Squad lacked crucial information compared to the Corps?

"Of course I'm not!" retorted Arthur. "Were you not listening?"

"And you are aware of my thoughts on Rochesters?"

Arthur felt a sinking feeling, a sudden realization dawning on him. Yes, he knew Lawson's sentiments toward the Rochesters. Unclenching his hands from the edge of the desk, his eyes widening. Lawson didn't refer to her individually; instead, he spoke of the Rochesters as a collective, all bearing the surname and facing imprisonment.

"What have you done?" Arthur asked, his voice trembling.

"I thought you were aware," Lawson responded coldly. "She has been arrested."

A moment of stunned silence passed before Arthur released his tight grip on the desk. No, it couldn't be true. What would happen to her?

And in the next instant, he screamed in the mayor's office.

"WHAT?! You did what?!" exclaimed Arthur, stepping back from the desk, eyes fixed on Lawson, struggling to fathom the words he was hearing.

"She's done nothing wrong! Absolutely nothing! I demand to see the reports. This can't be—"

"Who are you to make demands, Arthur?!" Lawson interjected sharply. "Miss Rochester stands accused as an enemy of the state, a criminal!"

"Pray, tell me, Lawson, precisely what crimes has she committed with her own two hands?"

Lawson rose, his hand reaching for a cigar case. As he lit up, Arthur fumed. No matter the number of cigars smoked, Lawson's expression betrayed calm.

"Did you not learn from the incidents in Ivory Hill? The Rochesters have been the root of every political uproar," Lawson asserted, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"Those were the individual Rochesters who faced justice! We apprehended them, the Rochesters were finished, that was the end!"

Lawson scoffed, regarding Arthur with disdain. "Finished or not, my conscience does not permit criminals to roam free!"

"Bernadine is innocent of her family's sins! She bears no guilt!" Arthur argued.

"They're all rogues! Every last one!" Lawson shot back.

Another tense moment of silence ensued, devoid of any calm. The situation was spiraling toward an argument, and as Arthur watched Lawson take a drag from his cigar, he stared at the mayor with disbelief.

"The Rochesters have caused enough havoc in this city," Lawson declared, resolute. "I won't let any of them undermine the progress I've achieved. Including Bernadine."

"Just because others in her family were criminals doesn't make her one!" Arthur said furiously, pointing accusingly. "You saw the evidence—it spoke in her favor!"

Lawson glared, offended. Extinguishing his cigar and tossing it aside, he advanced towards Arthur, who retreated towards the door.

"Accuse me like this? You're blinded by a misguided sense of justice!" Lawson thundered.

"Hypocrite!” Arthur snapped. “Your justice is just a mask for your thirst for power. You're trampling over innocent lives in the name of progress!"

“You’re a fool, Arthur! Oblivious to the reality of the world!”

“Oblivious? You’re the one who’s blind! You’re madder than those in Gryphon Sanctuary!”

Lawson seized Arthur's arm, his grip firm and his expression thunderous. Arthur felt no fear. Instead, he harbored nothing but disdain and abhorrence for the man standing before him.

"Do you forget all my past deeds, Arthur?" Lawson spat. "It was because of me that Gryphon Sanctuary is now a haven of safety! Because of me, the innocent were spared from the corrupt staff wreaking havoc. I'm liberating Concordia's citizens from any further corruption that could subject them to oppression!"

Repulsed, Arthur wrenched his arm free. "I can't fathom the city you envision, Justin! Not like this!" he yelled.

"You're the one blinded, Arthur! You always have been!"

"The only blind one here is you! Trampling over everything in your path!"

Lawson's fingers grasped Arthur's collar, causing a momentary fear in Arthur that his grip might escalate to a more dangerous hold. In response, Arthur quickly seized the wrist of Lawson’s hand that had a firm grip on his collar.

"Do you think you can barge in here and question me?" Lawson shouted. "You, who can't even control his own people!"

“So you are aware!” said Arthur, attempting to pull himself away from him. “You've become everything you swore to fight against. She would be ashamed of what you've become!”

“She?!”

"You did it for her! Abigail—do you think she would approve?"

Lawson’s gaze did not soften, but his eyes widened at the mention of Abigail. Sensing a momentary lapse in the grip, Arthur extricated himself, casting a defiant glare. The words were harsh, yet undeniably true, as Abigail's memory contradicted Lawson's actions.

“How dare you utter her name?” Lawson hissed. “She's irrelevant to this!”

“And so is Bernadine!”

“Except she was blameless, murdered by miscreants I aimed to eradicate!”

Arthur shook his head. “Abigail would lament the monster you've become. You manipulate her memory to justify your reign of tyranny!”

Turning away, Lawson clenched his hands on the edge of his desk. Unsure if remorse or restraint played across his features, Arthur continued the verbal spar. Lawson spoke, voice laced with anger.

“I thought you were there with me? Watching me build all of this?”

Arthur's hand found the door handle. "Abigail's memory was your anchor. The reason you advocated for justice. But look at you now—"

Lawson turned around, his expression murderous. For the first time that evening, a clear tinge of fear crept into Arthur's senses. It wasn’t wise to finish the sentence, knowing that mentioning the mayor’s deceased fiancée touched a deeply personal nerve.

"Her memory propels me to cleanse this city," he snapped angrily, "to mold it into a place she'd be proud of!"

In return, Arthur scoffed. "Is this what she would be proud of? A man who ruins lives in the name of progress? You've strayed from the path, Justin!"

Lawson snatched an inkwell from the clutter of his desk and took aim; A determined Arthur, anticipating the impending onslaught, swiftly dodged the threat–

"You think you know me?! Abigail's memory propels me forward, and I'll be damned if you exploit it against me!" The inkwell crashed, missing Arthur by a hair's breadth, its contents splattering across the room. In the heat of the moment, a weighty book hurled dangerously close to Arthur's head–

Aghast, Arthur watched Lawson seize more objects from his desk. Sensing the inevitable, he braced himself for what lay ahead. In a final note before he left, Arthur flung open the door, locking eyes with Lawson for one last moment.

"Reflect on that memory and see if the driving force behind your principles aligns with who you truly are!"

As he bolted the door, Lawson hurled an old pocket watch in Arthur's direction. The door shut behind him, and the sound of shattering ceramics echoed as it collided with the mahogany surface. Racing toward the staircase, Arthur could still hear Lawson's enraged shouts amidst the sounds of breaking glass.

"Do you fancy yourself the moral compass, Arthur? You're no different from the rest of them!"

Hurriedly hastening down the staircase, Arthur winced at the pain in his shoulder. Without a backward glance, he darted away from city hall, taking the outdoor steps and veering right towards a street adjacent to the airship. His sprint led him to an alley, where he pressed against the wall to catch his breath. The ache in his shoulder intensified.

“What—?”

Glass shards had pierced through his sleeve, infiltrating the fabric and inducing bleeding. Perhaps it was the inkwell or that pocket-watch that caused it. He sank lower, struggling to comprehend the situation. Clutching his wounded shoulder, he drew a breath, looking around for any sign of the Corps.

As the pain persisted, Arthur buried his face in his hands.

Bernadine, arrested. What awaited her?

Arthur couldn’t shake off the feeling of foolishness. The answers, Lawson's warnings—they were all there. Yet, he chose to be skeptical. How could he have been so naive to think this regime wouldn't impact her severely? Where could she be? As long as she remained within Lawson's grasp, harm, or worse, loomed.

“No!” Arthur exclaimed, refusing to entertain thoughts of a more dire fate. This was already the worst—the worst for Bernadine.

However, if she was imprisoned, it meant something else.

She wasn't the sole Rochester in custody.

No wonder her brother had been relocated, along with Larry and Horatio. Lawson had gathered the remaining family members in one place. If Bernadine, though innocent, was arrested, it meant either Rockley or Veronica was captured too.

But what would happen to Bernadine?

Lawson claimed to seek justice, to eliminate criminal actions. Yet, he chose to involve the innocent, merely for being part of a controversial family?

What had he become?

Arthur winced once more, the pain in his shoulder courtesy of Lawson now a sharp sting. He needed to return to the airship. Never in Arthur's wildest scenarios had he considered that Lawson would resort to physical violence. There was that one occasion during Lawson’s term as deputy mayor when Senator Rochester dragged him into a fistfight, yet Lawson was never one to initiate such brawls.

And now, the onslaught of Lawson's aggression replayed in Arthur's mind—the relentless barrage of objects hurled at him. An inkwell, a weighty book, a pocket watch—all wielded with the intent to inflict harm upon him.

Rising from his disoriented state, Arthur staggered toward the airship. The skirmish had left him drained in every sense.

- O -

Heaving for breath, he glared at the firmly shut door. Anger surged within him like a tempest. How could Arthur betray him like that, uttering those unforgivable words? There was no doubt now—they were no longer comrades. Lawson wished he could've done more; Arthur deserved every blow he could deliver.

The challenge to his authority, the defiance, and the mention of her name disgusted Lawson.

Arthur, once counted among his staunchest supporters, had now turned against him.

How could he?

Surveying the disarrayed room, he saw that his office bore the struggle. Ink splattered in one corner, book pages strewn across the floor, and shards of broken glass scattered about. Among the wreckage lay an old pocket watch, now broken.

Approaching the mess by the door, he knelt and picked up the pocket watch.

It was old, the one he always wore before becoming mayor.

The same one Arthur had gifted him years ago.

Examining it, he felt the shards of glass pierce his hand that held it. As he gazed at the engraving on the back, the words read:

Ambition paves the path.

The watch was a token from Arthur during his days as a student attending law school. A time when Arthur believed in him. They corresponded regularly, almost everyday. Arthur had taken the effort to commission the design and quote himself.

Arthur had faith in him to shape a better Concordia—for the citizens.

Standing up, he glared at the watch. Any sentiment toward Arthur fueled his rage. Not after what happened.

Approaching the window behind his desk, he opened it, peering outside. With one final look at the watch, he clenched it, hoping it would shatter in his grasp.

"I don’t know you, not anymore."

With those words, he flung the watch into the dimly lit streets. Although he couldn't see it, the faint shattering noise confirmed the complete destruction of the watch. In the morning, Concordians would unknowingly tread over the remnants, not taking any notice that it bore a struggle. He would never see it, nor Arthur, anymore.

#criminal case #criminal case mysteries of the past #justin lawson #arthur wright #au/bgtw #made a tag for this #my fic #the girls are fighting #/hj

11 notes · View notes

devondespresso · 6 months

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WIP WhhhMonday Nightish

Once upon a time Devon was tagged in a wip wednesday by @eriquin and meant to do it but missed both wednesday and the weekend before remembering again. totally unrelated, Devon is working on getting their official adhd diagnosis.

i also noticed that the past snippets shared in wip-whatever posts have been purposefully the least interesting parts because i was worried about spoilers, which is dumb because that's created the unintended consequence of my tag is full of everything i don't like as much and a very different impression of what my fic is (as seen by most of these snippets being my rewritten scenes despite the actual fic being mostly new in-between scenes)

TLDR: WIP Whatever-day-it-is: But Actually For Fun This Time

The Rules

Post the file names of up to 5 of your WIPs for people to send you asks

Post a snippet of one of those WIPs

When people send you an ask with the name of one of your WIPs, write 3 lines of that WIP.

(Optional) Post the lines you wrote.

You can send multiple requests especially since this is going on through the weekend!

The WIPs

we're doing bulleted chapter titles to share from since that was my favorite and genuinely most productive format I've used. Feel free to ask for as many as you want, I plan on working on this basically all week

Karen Wheeler POV Bonus Chapter (Prologue kinda? side story in the same universe?? Bonus chapter set after season 1 and way before ch 1)

Steve, are you okay? Are you okay, Steve? (ch 9)

What's this? The consequences of my actions? (Is that a motherfucking Lovejoy reference?) (ch 10)

Kidnapping? no. surprise adoption. (lol get taken care of BITCH) (ch 11)

NEXT CHAPTER BC IDK HOW TO TRANSITION (ch 12) (a very tentative title for the next chapter to be written)

The Snippet

here is my favorite and most recent scene I've written, which takes place before they junkyard where Steve and Dustin are at the grocery store to get that ungodly amount of raw meat they have to toss around (also i've split chapters up a bit in the name of structure so the third chapter is now called "Mommy Issues Central". Lemme know any goofy vine reference ideas you guys have or if it should stay like that) (fear not, Get Yo Fucking Dog Bitch lives on still as chapter 4)

___

They turned down the next aisle, lining the edges of the cart with some other pasta-related shit that he could still probably use. They heard someone coming over from the next aisle and before he could turn the cart around Mrs Wheeler pulled up.

"Oh, Steve ...and Dustin. What're you boys up to?"

He took a short breath to work their story into something without Mike, but Dustin beat him to it.

"He's teaching me stuff."

He was imitating the tone Steve used but still way too vague. Mrs Wheeler held up a smile, her brows slightly lifted.

"Y'know, like cooking-" Steve said, throwing in a little gesture to the cart.

"And cars, changing oil and things. Y'know just.. dad stuff."

Dustin's part convinced her, Mrs Wheeler's expression softening into a real smile.

"Well I won't keep you long,"

She nodded off to the side to talk to Steve one-on-one.

Great.

“Are you and Nancy okay?”

“Wh- we’re- Why? Did she say something?”

“No, no, she’s just been… closed off, lately. And I drove her to school the other day, she didn’t say why.”

“Sh- yeah, that- that’s on me. Sorry.”

“Did you break up?”

“No no, definitely not. We’re kinda… we’re working on it. I’m going to try and make it better, after y’know..” he gestured to Dustin behind him.

“Right.” she smiled again, “Let Nancy know she can talk to me about any of this? Please? I tell her but- I don't know, maybe it’d be different coming from you.”

He held up a smile for her.

“Yeah, sure. Mind if we..” he jutted a thumb towards the end of the aisle.

“Yes, go ahead.”

He gave her a short wave and turned back to Dustin, who studied random shit in the aisle like Steve would believe his sudden fascination with olive oil outweighed childish curiosity.

“Steve-”

He turned back around, seeing Mrs Wheeler coming back up to him and whispering again.

“I know I’m not your mother, but you can talk to me, too. Both of you, okay?”

He kept the smile in place and nodded again, and she finally went back to her cart.

Dustin “Definitely-Not-Eavesdropping” Henderson followed him out of the aisle, thankfully waiting until they were out of earshot to ask.

“What's going on with you and Nancy?”

“Thought we had ‘much bigger problems than my love life’?”

He pulled up to the deli, stopping to pretend to look at the options.

“We’re not dropping everything for it but we can still talk.” he groaned.

“I’ll tell you later, kay? Not exactly the best place to talk.''

___