#word count wednesday

[laylajeffany]

Between healing bees and Wednesday identifying her sexuality in a clinical setting, Enid can not prepare for what's next in her new life.

[campbyler]

happy miwip wednesday! please enjoy (or don’t, but we really hope you will) a preview of the first mike pov chapter in acswy + join us on the 7th to read it in full! 😎

[suzukiblu]

WIP Wednesday Game

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

sugar baby Kon

the wet nurse omegaverse

omegaverse nursing

a pocket full of Kons

YJ accidental baby acquisition

snippet from "sugar baby Kon":

"It's a pretty sweet gig, considering," Superboy says, and grins brightly at him. It's a very nice grin. Normally being faced with that particular grin would make Tim need to beat down the highly unprofessional urge to kiss it.

Right now, though, he's a little bit more concerned with the fact that his teammate is just . . . living in and working for a fucking lab. As a matter of course. Just as a thing.

And Superman of all people thinks that's . . . fine, for some reason? Like, normal and ethical and okay? Somehow? In some way?

What the actual fuck, Tim thinks to himself.

"You said Superman told you to keep an eye on things?" he asks.

"Yeah," Superboy says, his grin widening. "He took me to his fortress and asked me to do it there. Showed me around a bit, too."

"That sounds really interesting," Tim says, wondering in vague disbelief if that means Superman had never taken Superboy to the Fortress of Solitude before. He must've, right? And just . . . inexplicably not shown Superboy around then.

Yeah. Sure.

"It was awesome!" Superboy says with more enthusiasm than Tim's seen from him since they met Nina Dowd's . . . endowments, seemingly forgetting the need to be "cool" for long enough to lean forward in his seat and outright beam at him. Tim is gonna need a minute to recover from the sight of that expression, probably. "It's seriously freaking freezing up there, but there's so much cool shit in the place. Like, from all over the universe, but from Krypton, even! The only thing I'd ever seen from Krypton before was kryptonite!"

Tim considers moving up his supervillain timeline after all. Like. Just possibly. Just a little.

Maybe he can convince Bruce to take an early retirement off-planet and just go from there.

What the hell is wrong with Superman?

[neometalsilver]

you ever think of sonic growing up in the woods alone and fighting eggman regularly since the day he was 8/9 years old and then think about how he’s been raising tails since he was a 4 year old fox kit. like sonic not having a childhood and making sure that tails does no matter what because he knows what it’s like to have to be an adult before you’re ready.

knuckles losing his childhood to protecting the master emerald and growing up alone on angel island with a destiny and burden he isn’t even old enough to comprehend yet. meeting tails and while he’s not sold on sonic yet, he knows he’s never going to let this child experience the same crushing demands that he had placed on him by a tribe that wasn’t even alive to explain.

shadow only ever getting to experience fleeting moments of childhood when he’s with maria, and spending every other moment being tested and experimented on by scientists and doctors for a cause far beyond both him and his sister. meeting tails, who has grown up surrounded by danger and violence and war yet remains soft and kind and gentle despite thanks to his older sibling. shadow thinking about the trauma he had already experienced ten times over by the time he was tails’ age and feeling just burning hot jealousy and rage for the childhood he never got to have, the only source of peace and happiness he had being shot in the head in front of him while he was stuck behind a wall of glass. shadow meeting tails and wondering why he gets everything he never got to have.

[foundress0fnothing]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Pied Piper Feysand is almost done, so here’s one more snippet to tide you over 💕

So she borrowed a trick that used to annoy … someone … into leaving her alone, rolling her eyes and huffing petulantly, but not saying anything.

The Piper frowned at that, and some stupid, feral part of her grinned at his reaction. “If you’re going to act like a child, Feyre, darling, I’ll have to treat you like one.” His voice was a warning.

But she ignored it, for she remembered being told something similar in a different hall—a brighter hall. The memory was hazy, as if it had happened to her long, long ago. Perhaps she actually had been a child then. She couldn’t remember, and the quiet arpeggios that seemed to dance in the back of her mind kept distracting her any time she thought she might be getting close to an answer.

She shook her head to clear it, and suddenly felt a heavy weight on her scalp that she hadn’t noticed before. Gingerly raising a hand to her head, she brushed against something circular that was metallic and cold. Did he just put her in a crown?

Her temper flared at the insult—because it must be an insult; what kind of depraved court would parade a harlot as a queen?—and before she could stop herself, she snapped, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Also, picture proof at how out of control this fic is getting (I’ve just reached the smut 🫠)

[exonerin]

WIP WEDNESDAY [Not Made To Last | Obikin | AO3]

Chapter 7 of Not Made To Last is finally posted!

Okay, everyone huddle around for a much-needed schedule update.

Chapter 8 will be posted on Friday. Chapter 9 will follow soon after that. Originally, chapters 7 and 8 were one package, but they grew too long, and I still want to write one additional wing grooming scene (for plot reasons, of course).

Either way, here's a preview of chapter 8 (music is at the bottom):

Anakin knew it wasn't just the other stim he had administered an hour ago that kept him awake and blinking at the dark ceiling. Jittery energy, not solely contributed to chemical compounds, had settled under his skin until the temptation to toss and turn grew too strong.

Gradually, Obi-Wan's scent had worn off, leaving measly traces behind. So, Anakin had to put conscious effort into hiding his discomfort before Obi-Wan would notice. This used to be as effortless as breathing, but like a muscle, this skill had atrophied during his continued use of scent patches. Besides, his swollen and inflamed gland put his pheromone production under a hair trigger.

Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair, ignoring the shafts of the feathers among his curls. He felt unsafe, too open and exposed. Despite knowing no bogeymen hid under his bed, he couldn't relax when his instincts screamed at him to hide or build a shelter.

Hide where?

His desperate question didn't have an answer.

"Anakin?"

Surprised, he twisted in his bed to turn on his side, looking at Obi-Wan's silhouette in the bed pushed against the far wall.

"What makes you so uncomfortable?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice pitched low.

"How-- " Anakin didn't deign to finish that sentence. Although it seemed impossible, Obi-Wan had probably smelled his discomfort from across the room. Anakin didn't remember Obi-Wan's nose being so freakishly good. They weren't courting either, so Obi-Wan shouldn't be that attuned to Anakin's scent.

Nevertheless, Anakin was as pleased as he could be while simultaneously feeling like he could burst out of his skin.

"I don't know," he admitted sullenly. "Something feels off. Unsafe or lacking."

Uneasily, he rubbed his hands under the blankets. Without his gloves, flesh smoothed over durasteel, tracing the edges of the protective plating. The sensation couldn't ground him.

"Avian species tend to build nests," Obi-Wan stated, and Anakin blinked dumbly. He supposed it made sense he had adopted both physical traits and instincts from harpies.

"I don't know how to do that," he claimed sullenly. This was the equivalent of a leading question since Anakin hoped Obi-Wan would fix it. Maybe Obi-Wan would lend him his cloak again. "Besides, I don't have anything to build a nest with," he continued, and Obi-Wan coughed slightly. Anakin couldn't tell whether Obi-Wan masked laughter but narrowed his eyes in the darkness for good measure.

"This is not funny," he complained petulantly, hiding his triumph when Obi-Wan sighed, which was a prelude Obi-Wan would give in.

"Come here," Obi-Wan ordered, and the rustling of a blanket followed.

Anakin's jaw went slack, fortunately hidden by the darkness in the room. Momentarily, he was rooted to his spot. Then, he hurriedly crawled out of his bed, dragging his blanket and cloak along to Obi-Wan's side of the room, who had shuffled aside to make space for Anakin on the narrow bed.

[slowandsteddie]

WIP Wednesday…

…with a twist!

Tagged by: @eriquin

I am currently working on Chapter Two of Lazy Petals. I have the rough draft done, but I do need to go through the editing process. Which is going to consist of massive rewrites.

For every note that this post gets, I will write at least one paragraph. If it gets under fifty notes, each one will count for 2-3 paragraphs. If you want, you can comment multiple times.

Once I have written (rewritten) the proper amount of paragraphs to notes ratio, I will share my favorite part by reblogging this post.

[thychesters]

#wipwednesday! i'm making some decent progress in this fic and if i bully myself enough i think i might manage a rough draft by halloween. (she says, knowing full well she likely won't.) in the meantime, have some quiet zolu cuddles on the deck. zoro's tired. luffy's giving him two minutes before he vibrates out of his arms and slingshots them both across the ship. // text under the cut:

Luffy sits behind him again, propped up against the mast with an arm draped across him and he’s frigid in the temperate air. He sits up, twists like he means to pull away, but Luffy’s gaze is fixed on him, watching him, so he shifts in the tight quarters that is the space between his knees. As he tilts his head back his eyes don’t move, and it’s a powerful thing to be the sole focus of Monkey D. Luffy, terrible and bright and reduced to a pin prick, and he’s still watching as he moves forward to wind his arms around his waist.  The angle is awkward, and his nose presses into Luffy’s sternum before he gets the message and leans back, leaving him lying in his lap, cheek pressed against his stomach where he can hear it gurgle and the beat of his heart. “I thought we weren’t supposed to get up to stuff like this out on the deck,” Luffy says, Zoro knelt in the grass and buried in his waist. He hums when he doesn’t answer, another question lost in the sound, but he doesn’t ask it in favor of smoothing a hand up his back, fingers trawling through his hair. Zoro stills against the feeling, tries not to think, tries to ignore the lingering burn of salt and bile in the back of his throat, and the pads of Luffy’s fingers press into the knobs of his spine. He tilts and leans, and then Zoro can feel arms wrapping around his waist twice over before Luffy folds over him with a soft laugh, forehead pressed into the small of his back. “Zoro’s kinda weird sometimes,” he says, more to himself than anything. His voice gets lost in the material of his haramaki, and he turns his head to rest his cheek against it. “I don’t mind though.” Dragging in another breath he tightens his grip to the point where his sides will be sore but won’t bruise. He sits up again a few minutes later, resuming dragging his fingers through his hair in nonsensical patterns, never quite scratching at the scalp, and then tracing along the shell of his ear. Zoro closes his eye.

[josephslittledeputy]

WIP... Oh shit, its actually Wednesday??

Tagged by @wrathfulrook @clicheantagonist @marivenah @cassietrn @the-silver-chronicles @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat and I thiiiiink that's it... sorry if you've tagged me & you're not on here, its been a hot minute since I've posted a wip wednesday & my memory is basically Swiss cheese

Tagging anyone who wants to self indulgently share a WIP! Feel free to tag me, I love to read new stuff :)

**Also terribly sorry in advance cause this turned out to be a bit longer than I thought it would be**

WIP 1: OG Verse - fun times with Celeste & Gabriel

He has to resist the urge to throttle her, lest he ruin the inside of his house filled with years of carefully handpicked items, ones he held a certain fondness for. "You ruined my life, Celeste. Or do you not recall?” "Your life?" She tilts her head in mock curiosity. "What life? The one where you were sent anywhere they told you to go, like some mongrel with a barely slackened leash?" “Excuse me?" “We can pretend otherwise. Keep up the illusion that your life was marvelous, picture perfect even. But we both know the truth, don't we?" She takes a step closer. “You were nothing but the High Council’s defanged pup. Cluelessly doing their bidding before I freed you. If anything, you should be thanking me." "Thanking you?" He clenches and unclenches his fist in an attempt to suppress his anger. "Hate me if you must, fight me even, but do it later. Right now we must get out of here. If they do not know where I am yet, they soon will. What do you think will happen once they realize one of their precious dhamphirs has been under their nose this whole time?"

Celeste truly is the nicest individual you'll ever meet :))

Including this little snippet from Gabriel's pov as well cause idk, I just really like it

Unbidden worry strikes him. He listens, waits, and when his ears pick up the sound of soft, even breathing he lets out a breath of his own. Celeste and the baby were still there, unharmed, perhaps even sleeping. It brings an odd sense of comfort, reminiscent of times long forgotten, times he didn’t want to remember. If he did, he’d have to remember what brought them to a halt in the first place and he had a job to do. Grief and old wounds had no place here, at least not at the moment. Kicking his boots off, he treks into the bathroom and gently closes the door behind him. It’s a simple design: Shower to his left, toilet to his right, and a sink with a mirror above it directly across from the door. Leaning against the sink, he ruffles his short, black hair that's shaved on the sides and traces his fingers over an old, faded scar. It runs down almost the whole length of his face, going over his left eye and stopping just shy of the corner of his mouth. Overlapping it is another, only this one goes across his face horizontally, over the bridge of his nose and from cheek to cheek. The only thing that remains of the old Gabriel are his blue eyes, once full of life and mischief, now faded and dull. Turning away from his visage, he heads toward the shower and turns it on, stripping down while he waits for the water to heat up. He doesn’t need a mirror to see the multitude of scars and tattoos that adorn his body. Aching for another drink—if only to dull his senses and lingering memories once more—he curbs the yearning and steps beneath the water.

WIP 2: They Watch From The Pews

Willa squirms, trying to dodge cold fingers that reach out to trace over the letters, caressing them with a sadistic fascination that makes her stomach curdle in disgust. Disgust quickly transforms into a desperation to get away once he finally reveals the knife kept hidden behind his back. “Usually I’d peel the sin off but… I think this will suit you much better, don't you?" Pressing the tip of his blade into her skin, he teasingly drags it across her skin. "Tell me, Deputy, how did you feel when you got the news of Samuel's death?" "Chipper." She spitefully answers with a sneer. John heaves a dramatic sigh and presses the blade down harder, prompting tiny beads of blood to bubble up as he traces over the letters of her tattoo. "You can make this easier for yourself, you know." "I've heard that before. Got me a bullet to the leg." "Because you ran. My men only acted accordingly." "Fuck you and your men, pussy." "My, what a mouth on you." He tuts and makes a deeper cut. Her teeth sink into the leather in her mouth, denying him the satisfaction of hearing her make a noise. Without pause, he moves onto the second letter, brows scrunched up in concentration as he goes over the lines again and again. It isn’t until he’s on the last letter that she finally breaks with a muffled groan. He stops, lifting his eyes from his work. “Comfortable?”

John & Willa are bonding so well. Truly, I think they're starting to get along!

[lazinesswrites]

I read this amazing Cody-centric wing-fic by @meebles, so now I'm thinking about Clones with wings, and - because I'm me - specifically the Bad Batch with wings.

What would their wings look like? The regs' wings would all be identical/very similar, of course, with the individuality mostly showing in dyes and so on. But the Batch with their mutations will likely have different wings too.

I want Crosshair's wings to be similar to the ice vultures', for obvious thematic reasons, but also because vultures tend to hang around in high places, whether that's sitting in a tree somewhere or circling high up in the air, waiting and watching. Good sniper traits. I don't think we really get to see the vultures in the show, but I assume they're white/grey, to blend in against the snow and ice and white/grey skies. Good colors for Crosshair.

The rest will be under the cut because this got away from me a little (a lot).

For Tech, I'm thinking common kestrel wings. I don't know if kestrels have any particular behavioral traits that would fit Tech, I mostly just like their colors for him. I did read a little bit, though, and what stood out to me was that the kestrel has multiple hunting methods - it does the usual bird of prey thing, of circling around on an updraft over open land and diving for its prey, or sitting on a fence pole or in a tree or even a bush and jumping on a mouse or whatever that gets too close. The thing it does that's maybe less common is that it will also skim across fields, very close to the ground, to pounce on anything small enough for it to eat. And maybe I'm reaching a little here, but that seems to me like a very resourceful bird which is also a very competent flier, and I figure that does fit our Tech very nicely.

I do kind of want to pick vulture for Tech too, if just to match his twin, but. I like the kestrel better. I mean, just look at it:

For Wrecker... Maybe something like a white-tailed eagle? Because. Big. And good at fishing. On a more angsty note, I'm thinking whatever happened to give Wrecker his iconic scar/cost him his eye, it probably also damaged his left wing. Maybe not enough to ground him fully, but enough that flying/steering would be harder for him, which is at least part of the reason he's still scared of heights.

Hunter's wings would probably be pretty similar to the regs', maybe a tiny bit smaller. I'm thinking something like the New Zealand falcon, or kārearea. Bird of prey, dark brown, fairly simple coloring (though still very pretty). According to the NZ Department of Conservation, there are three ecological forms of the kārearea: A large, pale 'eastern' falcon; a smaller, darker 'Bush' falcon, and a 'southern' falcon that's somewhere inbetween in both size and color. Perhaps the regs' wings are more like the eastern/southern ones (left image, I think), while Hunter's are more like those of the bush falcon (right image)?

Disclaimer: I actually know fuck-all about these birds, only what I've just read - if I'm mistaken about the identity of these birds, I blame the sources, which should all be linked in the images, though tumblr is tumblr.

Echo doesn't get his own picture (sorry, Echo) because he's a reg, technically, so he has wings like the left one above. I... am not sure what happened to them in that explosion, or his time on Skako Minor. Probably not very good things. Maybe his wings are just heavily scarred/damaged, maybe they're gone completely. Maybe he's got prosthetics for one or both of them?

(I'm just now realizing that the Clones having wings would mean some things on that mission to Skako Minor - namely, the escape from the techno Union's facility - would turn out slightly different, since they don't need those flying reptiles to get away when they have their own wings. Though maybe they still do if at least one (Skywalker), and maybe two or three of the people on that team can't fly (Echo, Wrecker). I'm well aware them having wings would completely change the mission to Eriadu in the TBB s2 finale, what with them being able to just. fly over there. and away again. Even if they do use the sky-rail or whatever, for Wrecker and/or Echo's sake, Tech would still have his wings, so... All's good.)

Omega also doesn't get her own image (sorry, Omega) because while she's not a reg, exactly, she's an unaltered Clone, which means... Well. I'm not actually sure what that means. I suppose that depends on whether Fett had wings, or that's something the Kaminoan's added? I'm gonna go with the first one, because I like that better. The Kaminoans may have changed things about the wings, but Omega will still have wings, because Fett did too. But that also means she'll have wings identical, or at least very similar to the regs' (left img. above), though maybe she'll have lighter feathers, to match her lighter hair. Also, since she's still (physically) a child, she'll have wings that look more like the immature/juvenile falcons', which means... less spots and stripes? I think? I'm not sure.

I'm also not sure when this whole thing changed from 'idle musings' to 'full-blown headcanons' but it certainly happened. Let me just go back and add a read-more somewhere. Alright, that's done. I'm not really sure if I'm actually gonna... do anything with these headcanons. I do really like the concept of meebles' fic, though - showing different relationships through the grooming and preening of wings - so maybe I'll write something a la that at some point, just for the Batch instead of Cody. Maybe some hurt/comfort about what the Empire does to Crosshair's wings while he's a prisoner? And how he has to learn to trust people near him/his wings again, and how his brothers help him heal, both physically and mentally.

If I do ever write something about all this, I'll make sure to link back to meebles's fic as the inspiration - and in case you missed it up top, or just don't wanna scroll all the way back up again (that's fair, this got rather long), here it is again: and the stars, like a loved one by firelord_zutara on Ao3, also known as meebles here on tumblr. Go read it, you won't regret it.

[laylajeffany]

Wednesday shows up to the nightclub because being surrounded by bad pop mashups with a thundering bass, suffering through a drag show, and waiting for her wife to make her rounds with VIPs is somehow preferable to being alone in her state. 

[sabraeal]

1000 Followers Update!

Due to some super fun chronic health shenanigans, the posting for the 1000 Followers Celebration is being postponed a month! Posting will start on 2/2 with to all the ghost still standing in this room, and continue as previously planned from there. Thank you guys for bearing with me-- I struggled with the idea of even postponing for a week, but it became very clear on Monday that I would not be able to catch up with the schedule unless I took an extended break to recover. Can't wait to show you guys what I've got up my sleeve!

[mirrortouchedsea]

okay plan of attack today is. eat lunch, read for 30 minutes because i have been neglecting that, and then work on my madaleo fic. maybe i'll do some requests too if anyone has any for the end of the year?

[total-serene560]

Here, have a small slice of Ch.6 for WIP Wednesday.

Currently posted story below the cut!

[suna1suna1]

Henlo! It is once again Wednesday!

I've finished a couple of the art wips from last week, but then I haven't touched the others since bc things got crazy lmao

Go check out @deadrabbithq ! They just released the first chapter of their psychological horror webtoon, Harlequin! It's really good and y'all should go give it a shot if you're into that! ^^

Anywho, here are my new WIPs for the week!

Another doodle of my character Pandora for a mini event Art Fight has going on.

Slowly chipping away at making my own webcomic with these characters and still trying to get a feel for drawing them.

This one's nearly finished, but it became so personal to me I needed a break because I was literally crying over it. I'll finish it eventually. Probably.

And now, here are this week's fic word counts + some expected release dates for new chapters! ^^

Angels and Demons - Words: 17,716

Sonadowtober 2022 one-shots - Words: 20,280 (+ 586) Chapter release date: March 31st

L'histoire d'une Ladybug a Paris - Words: 5,119

To Catch a Hedgehog - Words: 18,969 (+ 138) Chapter release date: March 31st

Shadamytober 2023 one-shots - Words: 23,630 (+ 887)

All Our Love - Words: 6,180 (+ 188)

The Heart of the Ark - Words: 9,086

Fire and Ice - Words: 5,158

[tboybuck]

Word Count Goals Accountability

BATTER UP!

Minimum Goal: 3,024 | Stretch Goal: 6,480 | Words Written: 4,337 | Total Current Word Count: 73,455

and for the folks in my inbox who requested bu! for wip wednesday, a snippet under the cut: @bifuriouswaterbender, @eriquin, @inairbinad, @sidekick-hero, and @steves-strapcollection (i'm gonna throw @thefreakandthehair on here too, bc baseball!steve besties)

feel free to request some more, we're going all weekend !

It’s the weekend before playoffs start and every fucking park in Chicago is prepping for winter even though it’s as hot as it was in August and twice as humid. The city parks department clearly hasn’t been putting their back into the care and keeping of the parks this summer - the grass is dry and brown with barely a patch of clover to be found. As much as Steve would like to not have to do this… it’s tradition, and he’s superstitious. He needs a four leaf clover for the first game of the playoffs.

He’s had the big ugly boot off for a month now, and he’s back in training mode. He and Robin decided today would be as good a day as any to get out and find a clover. They’ve been at it for a number of hours now, and it’s getting to be the hottest part of the day. They’ve been to nearly every park in the city and… nothing.

Lincoln Park is a fucking tourist trap, even in September. Steve’s done more autograph signing since they turned up here than he has since before his injury, and it’s getting harder and harder to be gracious about it. He talks to a few guys about his injury, about the playoffs, about the other team in their bracket. He even talks about Eddie a little bit to the fans that ask.

“Are you moving in with Munson at the end of the season?” they’ll ask, and he’ll beat around the bush with it a little, not really answering the question directly because it’s none of their business.

The relationship baseball fans think they have with the players on their favorite team isn’t unlike the relationship music fans think they have with their favorite band. There’s a word for it, one that Steve can never seem to remember, but it doesn’t rub him as much the wrong way as it used to when he first started out.

Steve is standing next to a bench talking to a middle aged woman with a bag of sunflower seeds. The pigeons and doves at her feet are cooing at her for more as she talks to Steve, her hands animated and her smile broad and toothy.

“That home run you hit against the Nationals back in June,” she’s saying, gushing about it, and Steve is smiling and nodding along, remembering. “Just crazy!”

“Yeah, it was definitely a season highlight,” Steve agrees. He’s glad to be talking baseball. He loves talking about Eddie but he’s talked about nothing but his relationship for months, it seems like. Talking about baseball again feels right, feels natural. 

He should be out there with Robin, who’s sifting through the grass on her knees in search of Steve’s elusive clover.

“Goin’ up against the Nats all over again next weekend,” Steve smiles.

“Think they’ll put Smith back on the mound?”

Steve laughs. He doesn’t usually like to talk shit about other teams to fans, but Garrett Smith, the Nationals’ starting pitcher, is nothing to write home about. He’s given up more home runs than any other pitcher in the majors this season and Steve just finds it… funny, almost, that they keep him on as a starter.

“I think if they want to win, they’ll put Jacoby on to start.”

The woman with the sunflower seeds nods along.

“Harrington, you ass!” Robin is calling. “Enough socializing and help me!”

“Lucky clover?” the woman guesses. 

“Yeah, we’ve been out all day.” He sighs. “I better get back to it. Great talking to you, though.”

“You too. Good luck next weekend.”

“Thanks.”

And so Steve jogs out to the field and crouches beside Robin, and together the two of them run their fingers through the short grass in a small patch of clover, searching.

It doesn’t actually take much longer, after that. Robin calls him over, just a few short yards away, and points at a patch of green between her feet. And there it is - vibrant green shot through with white, all four leaves round and uniform, and Steve plucks it out of the ground.