You guys, I have to talk about this story for a minute more.
I don't know where this came from, but this Weir/Caldwell story has sprung fully formed into my brain, all TWENTY THOUSAND WORDS (AT LEAST) of it. It has the plot of every single Harlequin AU involving business ever written, but I do not give a fast fuck.
There are airships and Wraith and Genii and accidental engagement and secret gay love and at least one ménage à trois (the living arrangement, not the sex act) and somebody gets a whipping (if you can't figure out who, you haven't been here very long) and there's perfunctory Victorian sex and YOU GUYS I HAVE TO WRITE THIS STORY. AGH.
I am glad this has sparked the writing urge, which has been seriously lacking lately, but JFC, this is the last thing I need right now.
(Also I need to someone to promise to read it. I mean, I know I just wrote ten thousand words of drawerfic, but at least three people read that. I'd like to think I could do better in a fandom without four people in it.)