9 Works by PlethoraofSweaters
Listing Works
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Summary
It's 1930 and Arthur Lester has baptized himself in the gutter and crawled back out to find himself. Beyond the shame his Uranian proclivities may have saddled him with in the past, he's ready to find those parts of himself he'd denied. He walks into a bar.
He leaves with a case and a promise.
OR:
A repressed mess walks into a bar. Stop me if you've heard this one.
Series
- Part 1 of Two Messes Making Their Way
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Summary
He hadn’t missed it, all these years. Oh, there were flutters, every so often. The dull shimmer of arousal glowing warmly even unheeded as it was. A handsome face in a crowded shop, the too close press of an attractive build on a bus platform, a stranger’s eyes gone crinkled with mirth. But never wholesale lust, and certainly never any impulse to act on those rare inklings
Series
- Part 4 of Two Messes Making Their Way
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Summary
Peter “Parker” Yang never had a family of his own. Not in the traditional sense, leastwise. The “holdfast your wives and become one flesh” kind. Never had the kind of self-loathing required to deny himself and for some reason those with a higher pay grade had decided somewhere along the line that pitching for the same team was an offense not only to god but to the state and every pearl-clutching flatfoot working a beat. As if it were any business who Parker wanted to dance the horizontal tango with. As if those politicians weren’t also cruising the parks at night while their pious wives waited at home praising their righteous husbands.
Series
- Part 3 of Two Messes Making Their Way
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Summary
It was a blazingly hot July afternoon, the sort only found melting the asphalt of major east coast cities: plants wilted, tempers flared, and Oscar was regretting his profession as he broiled under his cassock and collar, starch and cotton gone limp and translucent with sweat. The rectory was an absolute, stifling misery, windows open to allow for the pitiful gasps of breeze that hiccuped painfully and seldomly, offering no relief.
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Or: Oscar has church sex. More news at 8.
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Summary
This takes place after Chapter 1 if they had decided to get down to it. Not compliant to the canon I'm creating, so its an AU of an AU!
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“Though I could think of a thing or two else we could do with that open mouth, sweetness.”
The source of that voice, so close, rumbled through Arthur’s body and landed squarely between his legs. Arthur was not a man that could be accused of being debonaire. He was certainly never going to get any awards as a grand lover. He had had one crush in boyhood, quickly ruptured when a nun found Arthur, moon-eyed and scribbling the boy’s name, had paddled him squarely for “indecency”. Then, Bella in his late teens and marriage in his fresh faced twenties. Bella had been a necessity, a disguise to hide the truth of himself, and each moment with her twisted the knife of his own cruelty in his heart.
Now here he was, 30, face to chest with a sculpted specimen of masculinity that left his mouth dry and his libido burning like a preteen sighting their first stretch of bare skin. He was elated. He was terrified.
Series
- Part 2 of Two Messes Making Their Way
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Summary
Ambrosius Goldenloin detested working in food service.
And it wasn't as if it was just one thing, either.
The mandated, saccharine customer service voice, even when said customer was an unequivocal asshole.
The wretched hours and wretched-er pay, as if tips could ever make up for minimum wage.
The fact that, with all the Gloreth-damned clopens he'd been given as punishment, his complexion was a wreck and his signature golden tresses smelled forever of sour milk.
He was a wreck, and now, for the seemingly millionth time since a 3 am open, he was trapped in the same cyclical conversational hell.
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Ambrosius chose success over love. That kind of decision always has its drawbacks. -
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Summary
*This is a work about my recent miscarriage. No Fandoms, just some life that I needed to be excised from my body. So. Bear that in mind. If this isn't for you, leave it be.*
"I have always been told that I am bad at letting things go. Like the old adage goes, an elephant never forgives and never forgets. I have a memory that goes deep to the bones and generations long. And like an elephant, I'm a tender to old bones and ancient griefs. I never let things go, my body will always remember."
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Summary
A week of blocked calls.
Meredith was sure it was a week.
A month?
Who could tell. Time had always been a loose and tentative thing, slipping away from one thought to the next, jumping feet first into the next stream of hyperfixation until that stream became a torrent and wouldn't you know it, a year had passed and oops she was researching dark sorcery in some deep chasm the wrong side of the mountains.
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Or: Dr Blitzmeyer is Gregor's emergency contact, and now seems like emergency enoughSeries
- Part 2 of Scientific Theory and Peer Review
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Summary
Lord Ballister Blackheart was a man not unaccustomed to loss.
It was the grief and loathing he could not bear.
Or:
Ballister uses the scientific method to make sense of a world turned upside downSeries
- Part 1 of Scientific Theory and Peer Review