#posting this is incentive for me to finish at least the first chapter

[loverboybrightsideghost]

I STARTED WRITING SOMETHING, THERE’S NOTHING PUBLISHED THERE YET BUT I HOPE TO HAVE THE FIRST CHAPTER DONE BY THE END OF THE MONTH 👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼

[kingwuko]

so, random writer question. how do you manage writing so many multi chapter fics at the same time? i feel like you update them all pretty frequently. any tips for writing multiple fics at once?

Hello anon! Wow!! I am really flattered that you sent me this! For one thing, thank you for saying it feels like I update all my fics pretty frequently! I sometimes feel like I'm not updating often enough, so hearing someone say that actually makes me feel good about the frequency I update.

As for the question, how do I manage it and if I have any tips, I will definitely try to share what has been working for me so far. It's long. I'm sorry 🤣

First of all, I really need to credit a different fic writer from a different fandom. @pikapeppa is a fanfic author that I really look up to in terms of her writing style, her update consistency, and for finishing multi chaptered longfics. When I was trying to steel myself for writing Secret, I sent her a asks and she gave helpful advice! She has writing tutorials if you want to check them out.

I also posed a similar question to her about juggling multiple fics at once, and she gave some really kind advice about not giving in to hustle culture and just writing what makes me excited instead of worrying about update frequency!

So, for me, these are the things that help me with juggling all these fics:

1. Taking care of my mental health

I have always love writing, but when I'm in a bad place mentally, it's not happening. I've come a long way and figured out what I needed. When my mental health is well managed, I find joy in writing which is crucial for me to, well, write!

2. Organization

Okay I feel like there might be a better word because I'm like, the least organized person in the world. But, what I really mean is, I keep all my fics separated and labeled in my Google drive. I have folders nested inside folders and do my best to label all my folders and docs. That way I can keep things together that I need for each fic, and I can easily open and reference anything I need.

For example:

This is mostly because I have different back stories and headcanons for each fic, so this helps me keep it all straight. It also makes it quick and easy to look stuff up. I have transcripts saved and an outline and an idea dump where I can look if I need help.

3. Deciding which fic to focus on

This is tricky because I feel like I'm still figuring this out myself. At first I was forcing myself to to rotate them in order, now (at the advice of @pikapeppa ) I write whichever fic I'm most excited about. This is working better for me. I need to shift my mindset when I work on a different fic, because my fics have different tones. If I force myself to shift mindsets, it's trickier. If I just do what I'm most excited about, it feels more natural to get into the right mindset and I write faster! That includes my one shots. Sometimes I'm not working on the next chapter. Sometimes a one shot has my attention.

Comments, asks, and discussions in my discord group actually influence what I'm excited about quite a bit! So if you notice it's been a while since I've updated something, and you comment on it, there's a good chance it'll give me that dopamine rush to naturally shift back to that fic haha.

I also don't reply to comments on the latest chapter until I've posted the next one. It's kind of a carrot on a stick for myself. If I make myself wait to reply til I post the next chapter, it's another incentive that helps me get excited!

4. Writing

I'm so sorry to say this. But in order to write fics, you have to. Well. Write. I know this is very upsetting for me to hear sometimes. 🤣

Theres tons of posts out there about how to write if you're struggling or you're stuck. I'm sure they have better advice than I do. But what works for me are the following things:

Outline, then write the chapters in order. Some people prefer to write out of order, to write the scenes they're excited first. But for me, writing in order gives me something to look forward to. It's easier to get through the less exciting but crucial scenes and chapters if I know I have a really fun scene right around the corner.

Write badly. My first drafts are pretty rough. There's lots of cringe. Terrible grammar. Incomprehensible sentences. Weird ideas that sounded good in my head but just do not work in writing. Sometimes I don't even know what I want to say, and I just throw some brackets in: [transition here]. For dialogue I'll write it in script form first before adding dialogue tags. Honestly once you get past the uncomfortableness of writing badly, it gets easy. It's word vomit. But guess what, no one has to see it but me!

Write whenever the mood strikes (as long as it's safe to do so). I figured out pretty quick that if I didn't jot ideas down when they hit me, they'll be gone later. If I waited to write until I had the perfect environment, I would never get any writing done (I have four kids and job, my environment is never perfect for writing 😅). This is why I write in Google docs. I can write on my computer (which I prefer) but I can also write ANYWHERE on my phone. I tend to do quite a bit of micro writing throughout the day. Between clients at work. Waiting in the school pickup line. Laying in bed before I fall asleep. Taking a walk (carefully and in a low/no car traffic path!) any moments throughout the day that I get a few minutes of peace and quiet. Just don't write when you're driving obviously 🤣

Edit when I am feeling good. All those brackets I throw in have to get resolved eventually. If I go through and edit when I'm feeling really good and focused, it's much easier. If I try to edit when I'm distracted or having a bad day, it's probably not gonna be great or I'll probably get stuck and struggle.

Use a beta reader. Okay. Listen. There are a million fics out there that aren't beta read. Obviously tons of writers do great without them. Not me. In addition to the fact that having a beta reader just makes my work more polished and understandable, it also gives me some external accountability. My beta reader, @badgermolebender, doesn't even really do anything extra to encourage me to write, it's just KNOWING that they're there, for some reason, helps me to write. And there are plenty of people out there who will beta read and also gently nudge you to write by checking in occasionally. 'hey how's the next chapter coming along? Need to bounce some ideas around? Let me know!' (psst if you want a beta reader for a Wuko fic, or any Lok fic, I'm available!!!! Even other fandoms if I know them!)

5. Be kind to myself.

Writing fanfic is a hobby. It's supposed to be enjoyable, for the most part! We can't hold ourselves to the same standards as people who write novels for a living. They have editors, they get paid for publishing, they have deadlines pushing them forward; and I'm sure other things I don't know about because I don't write novels for a living!!! We just have our fandom community and our free time. So we aren't going to be churning out novel length fics as quickly as R.L. Stine. You'll have gaps where life got in the way and a fic gets put on hold. It's fine. Just pick it back up when you can.

I have no idea if any of that is helpful, but that's my writing method these days. Look, I'm just a boring thirty-something trying to live my best life after neglecting myself in my twenties. I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm having fun!

[claudiajcregg]

Tell Other People About Your WIPs

make a list of all your WIPs with a brief description of each and then people can ask you questions about them and then tag other people.

Tagged by both @onekisstotakewithme and @miabicicletta 💜💜💜 Thank you, guys <3 I don't know who to tag that hasn't been tagged already. Interested? Tag, you're it! :) (Please do know that there are no set sections. Pick whatever you want. I went the deranged route.)

I have an outdated WIP list, and many others unaccounted for. This is just a selection of stuff I could see myself posting or editing/retooling to write something new. I love talking about my WIPs, about as much as I hate being perceived because they are not remotely interesting. (I also love knowing which ones people are interested in! I have an incentive to work on them!) (Instead of snippets, part of my feedback loop is sending actual rough drafts to get a sense of whether it's worth working on more.)

Multichapters, different levels of completion.

S5 Pregnancy AU. My main WIP. Can you believe I’ve had this idea for a year… almost to the day? I’ve been stuck since November bc I don’t know how I want this one to end, beyond a birth. (As I’ve mentioned in the past, I feel like this has legs to become a fluffy universe. I have ideas! Timelines!) Gist of it: CJ gets pregnant circa Zooey's kidnapping. How does it change S5? It's less angsty than you think.

Campaign bars, aka campaign conversations sometimes happened at bars in the 1998 campaign. Fun stuff. I need to pick it right back.

What Once Was Ours or the IM AU (2021), aka IM ends with a breakup. Not a WIP. Not a UFO. A secret third thing. (“Finished” but not edited, and I’m doubtful people would be interested. Probably bc of some bittersweet ~memories~ attached to it. I mean, I shared a third of it to discord and people couldn’t care less, at least after a while. Now, better IM AUs are being posted these days; I'm not in a rush.) 33 chapters. 150k words. I do reread it every once in a while, and I cannot put it down. But its 'age' takes me aback. If things had been different, I'd have posted this in H2 2021/Q1 2022 (or even the planned Q2-3 2021). But alas.

The “Almost Ready, question mark” Category

Another SVD prompt meme claim: what if CJ has the crush first. The thing is, I tend to write her as having a relatively obvious crush on him at first until something makes her wise up. So this is just some ridiculous, post-first-meeting thoughts. Most of it was written in one sitting! It kinda fits with something in the campaign bars fic, too.

Post birth, hospital story: A couple of hours after their bb girl is born. Pure fluff. Recently reworked it to make it less wordy. Still failed, but it’s better focused now.

Many ficlets – the few I did post on Tumblr that haven’t been posted to the story I’m collecting them in, plus a couple more. I'm thinking the ice skating one, Jan 22, a few post-eps I wrote last year, etc.

Ambitious Projects I don't think are happening right away (or ever), but probably have a detailed outline somewhere

(I put this up instead of last, because the next category has faves, but it's also a long one.)

Danny is back a bit earlier on s7. Toby leaks (or tries to leak? I always wavered) the shuttle to him, as he and CJ are getting closer.

Simon lives. How does his relationship with CJ evolve post-honeymoon phase? What is it like when Danny returns?

You’ve got mail AU. This outline had two ways the climax could go. I had fun.

Epistolary collab (?) fic. Probably an X + 1 fic. The only one with nothing written; don’t rule out writing it individually at some point.

And because this is so long already (but not as long as it could be)… A few more under the cut – more "I just want to make sure I like them" and "this meme reminded me I meant to pick those back up." And they are still not all. (How do you summarize seven years of writing?? I've only posted 20-something of them, lol.)

“Almost Ready (but I feel like I want to make changes to them) (might just redo them altogether)”

Haunted by the Notion, 2007 edition. My beta Ruth suggested this when she edited the other story, and I wrote it around then. It’s another Christmas dinner at Filomena, and, eight years later, things are different. I feel like it hits expected beats, and is just missing some oomph. Maybe. (As much as I do like it, half tempted to make it 2009. Or later.)

Heaven’s here…: A interrupted proposal. I’ve written many proposals over the years, and I love toying with different ideas and setups. Danny takes the lead here, but I’ve been intrigued by the idea of having CJ do the final twist.

5 to 6 am 'me' time. Another story inspired by last year’s rewatch that I wrote right at the start of it (so Jan 2023?). It has five short parts with five different years of what CJ describes in the pilot as her “me time.” This is one when I think one per year would be fun, but I don’t want to repeat myself.

One bed, “sexy” edition. An AU to a sort of AU (one of the drabbles from this summer) and… it's what it says on the tin. The world does not need to read my attempts at smut. If I didn’t put it in the previous category, it’s because I am not sure that I want to post it. (All the previous attempts are locked somewhere; unfortunately, someone loves this one and noticed when I tried to do that, lol.)

First baby kick: I remember writing this while in grad school (so, late 2017? First half of 2018) but I lost it, along other fic, when my laptop had to be reset because I used Bear to write back then, but didn’t have sync across devices. I rewrote it, and I feel like it's not the same, but still. It's sweet! Includes: Danny talking to the baby, domestic fluff, and… baby kicks!

“This meme reminded me they exist and I love them, so don't be surprised if they are posted before anything in a previous category”

(Lbr, if I added something about them in this post at all, it’s because they sparked some memory.)

Mosaic broken hearts: CJ, circa S4, jealousy. Prompted by a former fandom friend, back in my productive era (first half of 2021; before that friend just ghosted me.)

I can’t believe I captured your heart (pancake breakfast, three words and eight letters). For a while there, I edited it so much but then I fell off. iirc, it was part of some morning-related prompts I saw around that I tried to fulfill in 2018? 2019? And they had like internal progression. But this one was the best of the 3-4, and I kept tweaking it.

Green light of forgiveness (IM-ish) — there are many other IM/IM-Tomorrow snippets I’ve written over the years. I’m not sure if this one makes much sense, but I liked it enough.

Distance — I recall liking this one! Might have to bump it up. CJ is in Africa, Danny is at the Farm and sulking because they left off on some sort of argument. There is some Danny-Abbey friendship goodness here. I even have a second file that is “Distance - shorter version (it’s not)”

Danny writes fiction, shows it to CJ during her pregnancy and she’s into it. Technically written. I would probably try to take another stab at it. Third time might be the charm?

San Andreo phone call/fallout from ID. I just had the idea of CJ reaching out once things calm down. This is one of those fics I’ve written a version of every year or so, but I think there was one I liked quite a bit.

Terrible taste in men — a run-in with an OC ex of CJ. It was so dumb.

Fka Impatience - actually beta’d three years ago (by that fandom friend I've mentioned twice before… actually, three times) and “done”. I just think I’d change so much about it these days. It started being something else but ended up being a CJ-Toby friendship story in which they have lunch and catch up. But I would want to rewrite most of it now, and not just because it’s from like… 2019 (but finished in 2021).

I forgot this one initially! he's passing by, rare as the comet in my sky - 2? 3? times CJ thinks she sees Danny somewhere, and one time she does. (Which tried to work in the 'I remember shunning you' line.) I even wrote some sort of sequel later! Probably useless.

I said I would post a lightning round with fics that are either also done but not ready for me to mention them, or just… not done at all. The length of this post and how much I've spent on it is embarrassing. To give a general overview: in line with the nonsense I've been mentioning, includes phone calls at the end of S7, also a few friendship-focused fics around that time, too; present-day stuff; anniversaries; Hollis fundraisers; weddings; many ficlets, introspective thoughts, a “yes day” fic that's super sweet but needs better dares, the third memoir idea (the original one!!!!) that I had three years ago… And those are mostly the ones I had preselected, lol.

If you're interested, I can screenshoot this part in the notes app if you message me!

Anyway, this is embarrassing, and the worst part is that it's not all. fml.

[musette22]

Idk why I'm writing it to you, maybe it's the need for consolation lol. I keep falling in love with wip fics that end up abandoned, and it just makes me so sad, especially because it's often fics with unique (or at least rare) premises, so it's difficult to find smth similar to read. My 2 recentish examples are Not another romcom (you even mentioned it a while ago here, iirc) and another fic where Stucky met up in dreams and both assumed their lover didn't exist in real life...and the most devastating part is that this text stopped updating just before the chapter when they were supposed to finally meet for real😭 I know writers have their own reasons, life is hard, and I'm grateful for the chapters they managed to publish, but every once in a while i look up their accs in hope, and alas. Does smth similar happen to you sometimes? As both the reader and the writer, you probably have a deeper perspective.

Hi my lovely! I'm so sorry for not replying to this sooner, I've had a crazy few days and I haven't had time to sit down and think about messages that required a bit more thought than just a key smash! I didn't mean to ignore you, I promise. Because I've been where you've been and it suuuucks... It really does. And I don't mean the authors suck for not finishing works, I just mean that getting invested in a story and then never knowing how it ends is a tough pill to swallow :(

From a reader's perspective, that's happened to me a few times too and there are still a few unfinished fics that I think about regularly. The ones that got away 💔 And that's basically one of the main reasons why I've decided not to read WIPs anymore, unless the author states beforehand that the fic is already finished and just being posted chapter by chapter. I just don't want to go through what you're describing again, it's just a little bit heartbreaking, you know?

And from a writer's perspective, I can say that the fear of abandoning a fic halfway and disappointing readers is a big part of why I never post WIPs. Up until now, I've only posted completed works, all of it in one go. I might try my hand at posting in chapters sometime in the near future, but I still think I'll finish it first before I post it. I just have too many unfinished unpublished WIPs sitting around on my hard drive, and I just can't promise life won't get in the way of finishing them, even if I've already started posting them, you know? For some people it's a good incentive to finish fics though, I totally get that too! And I also know that it's important to show authors love on WIPs to support them and encourage them to finish them, but I try to do my bit by reblogging and obsessively checking whether or not they're finished yet and then reading them immediately once they are, I guess 😅

I hope you'll have more luck with reading WIPs in the future, lovely! Sending you a big hug 💕

[inthe-afterglows]

Hi! I hope all is well with you. I was wondering how the next part of ATB is going? Is this next part the final part or just another chunk of the story?

Hello!! Thanks so much for your interest in the next part of ATB!! At the moment I'm taking a break from ATB as I'm focusing on non-fanfic writing BUT it is something I fully intend to finish and I have like 80% of it outlined and the first 5 chapters written (5 chapters doesn't sound like a lot but it's about 40k words). I will not be posting until I've written at least 90% as I would hate to leave you guys hanging for chapter updates. I already feel so guilty for not being able to finish and post this sooner.

Also at the moment I have this outlined as a three part with each part being about 10-15 chapters, but I may re-shuffle and have a longer second part (about 20 chapters) to complete the story because I really do hate leaving you guys waiting for the next part.

Hopefully y'all are still interested in reading this when I'm finally ready to post!!

And to prove I have written something, here's a cute jily snippet from the first chapter:

“You, my love, are rare as they come,” he countered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Mister Potter.”

He consulted his pocket watch. “It got me between your legs only eighteen minutes ago, Mrs Potter.”

“I suppose, but now that I’m satisfied there’s no real incentive for me to return the favour.”

“Perhaps I don’t want you to return the favour,” he said lowly into her ear. “Perhaps I just want you naked on our bed with my head between your legs so I can taste you as you tremble so hard you forget everything but my name.”

That had a flush creeping across her cheeks as her eyes skittered around nervously to make sure no one could have overheard. She squeezed his arm and leaned in closer to him.

“See, Mistress Potter? Flattery may not get me anywhere but promises of pleasure will.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, quick and chaste and said, “only if you deliver.”

“Oh la vache! Arriving so late and fashionably so,” Claire kissed Lily on the cheek as Jean-Claude shook James’ hand. Claire lowered her voice, “I thought I should come interrupt since you and James were giving each other looks not quite polite for public.”

[kiras-monkey-bum-face]

With your multichapter fics do you finish it first before posting or do write it while posting?

some of them I just rawdog it and post as soon as it's written but others like the one I'm posting now I have a general plan and am at least always one chapter written ahead (I'm currently 4 ahead with the groundkeeps secret!). I think it would be good for me to write it all before posting but I'm so impatient and need a lot of incentive to keep going (comments/kudos/asks etc)

[zoobus]

oh, got other "shounen for adults" type recs? also oof forgettin stories that seemed meaningful in the moment. that was a feel i didnt expect.

I don't have many shounen recommendations because it's not usually making stories for me. I do see the appeal in shounen for adults and I've even enjoyed it but I have less insight into what's happening over there.

I previously mentioned Devilman Crybaby, Kimetsu no Yaiba, Chainsaw Man (Naruto except good), and Dorohedoro (post apocalyptic dark fantasy slice of life) already. Those are all good and you should read/watch them. The rest of these were read a long time ago but I recall liking them. Keep in mind I never finish series, so I can't tell you if it remains good either.

Darwin's Game - Battle Royale murder-to-the-top shounen with an interesting evolution-based premise. It stood out because 1) the confront the misconception of what being "the fittest" entails and make that a core element which means 2) our protagonist has to *think* about what being the most fit to a situation requires. More often than not it means communicating, understanding different points of view and their compatibility with his, resource management, minimizing interpersonal conflict, and so on. His power is gun and yet that's his least interesting.

Nice guy MCs are tricky but he has a strong incentive to emphasize amicable relationships over violence (certain death).

Caveats:

don't read if you're grossed out by loli designs. There's no porn, but all the major female characters have a certain look.

there's a turning point where imo the MC's personality, the story, and the overall quality 180. If you think "why is he taking the death of this random guy he didn't seem to know that well so hard," you can stop and make up your own end.

Talentless Nana - not sure this really counts as "adult shounen" but I liked it so much I spammed five discord servers with the first chapter when it came out. I relished every last "holy FUCK" I earned. See for yourself!

Caveat: I hear it ends kind of sloppy but can't confirm. I will say it felt like the writer didn't have a concrete conclusion in mind so I'm inclined to believe it.

Kumo desu ga, nani ka - this is a seinen and frankly it's unlikely you don't already know about the spider girl isekai but recommendation lists should have at least three suggestions and it fits the shounen vibe.

It's interesting that all the images I'm seeing looking up the title are so...kawaii? I can't even say cute. Pink, goofy, smiling chibi spiders. Never saw the anime, kept up with the manga until her second or third interaction with humans, so maybe the anime differs or at I'm remembering wrong.

Kumoko is heavily insinuated (but never quite confirmed) to be a victim of high school harassment and she seems to go out of her way to not think about what happened to her. Did she get chased in front of a truck? Did she commit suicide? Who knows, she doesn't want to talk about it.

She isekais as the weakest spider at the bottom of a dungeon filled with F to S-tier bosses who intentionally and unintentionally almost kill her. She gets to do the fun video game skill system/achievement lock thing HOWEVER! there is one skillset that's intentionally not explained or even given a name. "Don't rank up in that skill" is the most she's given. So of course it's ding, ding, ding flying straight to the top, maxing out the forbidden skill that continues to not be explained as she accidentally hits its requirements and tells herself it's probably nothing.

I never found out what it is but I've assumed it's something related to losing your humanity, some kind of unforgivable evil that can't be named. That would fit with the overall thing of celebrating kumoko's hard won battles and clever thinking with much stronger opponents but also in the back of your mind it's like huh this teen girl sure has been trapped in a pitch black cave miles under the earth gagging down roaches and centipedes, gradually accepting that being burned with acid or losing some legs is normal life, always thinking about her next kill, and just generally seems to forgotten about being a human at all, for plausibly years; I wonder if this could become problematic in the future.

Caveats:

I stopped reading after a while because the battles were getting dull

I assume the girl posing on all the covers but it never comes up. She takes up 50% of the page, why?? Even if it is her, it's not even relevant

[thosewickedlovelies]

Into the Woods: chapter 2  |  Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

Summary: Instagram stalking ensues. Will you run into Frankie again?

Tags: no warnings AGAIN this is weird for me too but as mentioned I do have some smut planned for these two if anyone needs more incentive to read lmfao

Word Count: 2,783

A/N: As always, endless love to @yoditorian for this idea and her supervision of my writing about a social media platform I do not use 💗💚💗

Backstory / chap 1 /

---

Later that night, Frankie sits at his desk, poring over maps both digital and physical. Where could you live to have traveled to the same point in the forest as him within a day? He’s hiked along the edge of his side of the woods, and knows that unless he’s missed some major construction, you can’t be there. So now he studies the other side of the treeline, looking at the closeness of the towns, any tiny side roads that could lead to individual houses like his own. But his frustration is growing.

There aren’t any. Not any within feasible walking distance, at least. And you hadn’t been grubby enough to have been camping. Frankie frowns, tracing the small highway which cuts through the forest. There, not far from the turnoff to his home, was a parking lot at the start of a web of trails through the woodland. If you started there and completely ignored the predetermined paths, heading a course straight for the pond...

“Huh,” Frankie murmurs. It wasn’t much further of a hike than his own. So that means you don’t live within walking distance- he shakes off an odd twinge of disappointment at that- but he does have an idea of your hiking range, if he felt like trying to seek you out.

He shakes his head. Don’t be weird. That was something Santiago might do- deliberately roam where he knew you regularly went in order to find you again. Frankie isn’t nearly so forward. His style is slower, less aggressive. What he’s already planning is his next cooking trip to the pond. Plants need water, and you forage for plants- he figures it’s a likely spot to run into you a second time.

Frankie hadn’t spoken to you again after you’d parted today. Only caught glimpses of you through the trees, from where he had dutifully remained by his fire. But at some point between the twisting of the campfire smoke from one way to another you had vanished, and not long after, Oso had returned to him, flopping down on her side with a satisfied huff.

He snorted. “Well, I’m glad you got to make a new friend.” Frankie rubbed her belly with only a little jealousy.

Now, feeling restless, he decides to upload the pictures he took today. He’s almost immediately distracted, however, by a string of likes from a new follower- concluding with a familiar photo of Oso and Gloriana. A prickle of excitement runs through him at a reference to foraging in the username. No way.

Frankie leans forward in his seat, straining for a closer look at the profile picture. A grin spreads across his face when the page finally loads.

It’s you. You, mid-laugh, perched comfortably up on a sturdy tree branch. He quickly scrolls down to confirm; but this is definitely you. Lots of photos of plants, and woodland that looks remarkably familiar. Your bare feet in a stream. A busy street at afarmer’s market, you smiling with a stall owner.

Frankie laughs out loud at the sheer absurdity of it. Here he was, worried about coming off as a mega-creep, and you’ve already shamelessly checked him out on instagram. He’s never hit ‘Follow Back’ so fast in his life.

--

You try to quash the squirmy anticipation in your belly as you pull on your pack, organizing yourself for the walk ahead. There’s no reason to get excited, you scold yourself. Even if you do see Frankie again, you still don’t really know anything about him.

You’d tried to stalk him online, but there wasn’t much information to go off of from his instagram photos. The pictures themselves spoke volumes, though. You’d always thought you could tell a little something of people’s personalities from what they posted, especially from pictures with their friends. Frankie’s main group of friends had a certain look about them- military maybe, a sort of cocky surety in their posturing. Despite this, they’re often grinning in candid moments, a relaxed, unself-conscious affection between the men which endeared them to you. Them, and Frankie. It’s a shame he doesn’t post more photos of himself. You recall again the sight of him in the woods, shafts of sunlight striking his expressive features, illuminating his kind smile and earthen eyes.

Then you shake your head. Too much time alone with your ever-churning thoughts have you romanticizing your meeting, when in reality you have no reason to expect to run into him again. He’d said he was out there all the time, but you’d never spotted evidence of any fires, or of a giant dog gallivanting around the place. Maybe he didn’t mean the pond specifically, but the forest in general.

“Argh!” Looking around, you stomp your foot in frustration. In your distraction, your walking pace had slowed, and you weren’t as far along in your hike as you should have been. Resolving to focus on your surroundings (because you won’t see Frankie again if you don’t get to the pond in good time), you splash some water on your face to refresh yourself and stride onward.

As you get closer to your pond, you slow down again, this time deliberately. All your senses strain for any sign of Frankie, but you don’t hear or see anything out of the ordinary. Then you smell it.

Smoke.

For a moment you panic. Is it wildfire season? Can you run away from a forest fire? Who do you call for this??

Then you smell something else- something familiar and edible- and you nearly pop yourself in the forehead. Of course you smell smoke, you idiot. What did Frankie say he did out here?? Cooked. You were literally just thinking about his instagram.

What is that smell? You have got to see this.

You step carefully to avoid making too much noise in the brush. Now that you’re looking for it, the gray haze of campfire smoke is obvious as it drifts through the trees. You give its source a wide berth, hoping for a chance to observe Frankie without him knowing.

Your wish is granted. You’ve come at him from the side, and now have an excellent view of his profile, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he stirs something in the heavy-looking pan in front of him. After a minute he looks satisfied, and retrieves the pan’s lid from behind him, arcing his arm carefully over the flames as he places it. Frankie sits back, a gusty sigh blowing from his lips.  As you watch, he tosses his cap to the side, running his hands through loose curls and scratching his fingers across his scalp. You bite your lip in a smile at the sight of his moment of self-indulgence.

You scan Frankie’s setup and the area around him, searching for-

“Ruff!” The dog you were looking for crashes through the bushes beside you, and you yelp in surprise, automatically stooping to soothe her.

Dammit, how does such a large animal keep sneaking up on you?

“Oso?” Frankie calls. He’s standing now, still hatless, a few steps closer to you than where he’d been sitting. He glances uncertainly between the fire and your approximate location. You hear him try your name next.

You swear quietly. “No, not you,” you add to Oso.

“It’s me,” you reply, straightening. “Sorry, Oso got me again.”

The pleased, upward tilt of his lips reverses as he shakes a stern finger at his dog, whose ears perk happily at all the attention. “What did I tell you? No more accosting strangers!” he scolds, though he doesn’t sound the least bit upset.

With a expectant glance at you, Oso trots back over to him. Frankie ruffles her ears, definitively undermining any negative impact his words might have had. You regard each other tentatively.

“Hi,” you say lamely.

His face crinkles back up into a smile. “Hi,” he returns. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Every possible conversation you’d mentally practiced since your first meeting flew right out of your head. “Well, you know.” You shrug lightly. “A person’s gotta eat.” Inwardly you cringe.

But Frankie is unphased. “I’d be really interested to hear about the kinds of stuff you find out here. This is almost ready, if you don’t feel like foraging for your lunch today.” He gestures behind him to the pan on the fire.

You hesitate, and Frankie seems to sense your uncertainty. “Only if you want.” He holds his hands up in a universal ‘no pressure’ sign, even going so far as to take a step back in emphasis.

You tell yourself to stop being so paranoid. This is what you wanted, after all. All your curiosity comes surging back as the wind shifts and the smell of his cooking sets your stomach growling. “Okay,” you agree. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Great!” Frankie beams. He turns- and promptly trips over Oso, still sitting beside him.

“Fuck!” He curses, hands hitting the ground on the other side of his dog.

You clap a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter. Is he always this prone to falling over? “Are you okay?” You make your way over to them.

“Yeah.” Now upright, Frankie seems flustered to find you so much nearer than before, his gaze flitting over you before he remembers himself. He turns to crouch by the fire again, snatching up his hat and re-securing it on his head.

You seat yourself a short distance away and observe. Oso has reclined on her belly on Frankie’s other side, her eager gaze fixed on the pan as he prods the food. Apparently deeming it finished, he retrieves three paper bowls from his bag and fills one each for you, himself, and Oso. With a small flourish and a nervous smile, he presents yours to you.

“Thank you.” You feel like maybe you should say something else, but he’s already moved to face Oso, murmuring something to her while he gives her her bowl. You decide to let the food do the talking.

And are glad you did when fresh, vibrant flavors flood your tongue. Your eyes flutter wide with surprise. “Wow, this is...incredible. How did you..?” You look between the steaming pan and his rucksack, unable to reconcile the feast of flavors in your bowl with how much you’d have to carry out here to achieve it.

The man blushes at your praise, gaze lowering briefly to hide his pleasure, but he looks back up at your question. “Trade secrets,” Frankie says solemnly. Then he drops the expression with a little laugh, his confidence clearly bolstered by your amazement.

“Just kidding, I’ll tell you. If-” he points his plastic spoon at you “-you tell me how we haven’t crossed paths before.”

That’s a fair deal, especially if it means you get to learn more about him. “I’ll do my best,” you promise. In between bites, you outline your gradual exploration of your surroundings upon moving into a nearby village a little over two years ago. This year, you decided to strike out into new territory- this forest.

“I found this pond pretty quickly and saw the blackberry bushes right at the end of the season last year. I’ve been coming here ever since, keeping an eye on it I guess. But this whole wood is really a gold mine.”

Frankie looks fascinated. “I had no idea. I know some plants, but I couldn’t even begin to guess what all is out here.” His mouth opens to ask more questions, but it’s your turn now.

“What about you?” you quiz. “How have I not seen you before if you’re out here ‘all the time’?”

“Well, I’ve been working my way over from the other side of the hill.” Frankie explains, gesturing to the gentle ascending slope behind him. “I only found this place earlier this year. Didn’t know it was someone else’s territory.” He offers an apologetic grin, and you duck your head, feeling a silly, pleased warmth in your cheeks.

“Anyway, I moved into my place over there about five years ago? But I had a lot to do at first. I made a ton of improvements to the house, I was starting a garden. The hiking was kind of a refuge from that at first, a way to quiet my thoughts when I was stressing myself out.” He admits this last part without looking at you, as if his stress is somehow something to be ashamed of.

“But then I realized that I actually enjoyed it, and it made me feel safer to know the woods in so much detail. So I made it a hobby. Started taking longer walks, mapping where I’d been. Brought whole meals instead of little snacks,” he adds wryly.

You laugh as his humor registers, completely engrossed in Frankie’s tale. He seems to notice this suddenly, and shuffles a little under your attention. “So that’s me,” he concludes, clearing his throat self-consciously.

Any foraging you intended to do today has long been forgotten. You’ve been sitting with your backpack on long enough that your shoulders have begun to ache, and you sling it off impatiently. Frankie seems to further relax himself at the sight of you settling in, leaning back on his hands, his empty bowl given to Oso to lick clean.

There’s one question that hasn’t been answered. “...so how did you end up on instagram?” you probe.

He laughs outright. “I wondered how long it would take you to ask,” Frankie teases. His lopsided grin suggests he knows the impression he gives off. His mirth is infectious, and you find yourself grinning back at him, although you refuse to be embarrassed. He was the one who had thrown his phone at you, after all. And he had stalked your profile right back.

“Well, I’m no photographer,” he begins. “But I like the act of taking pictures. Really stopping and looking at what’s around you, what captures your attention. I was in the army before this, and it was just in-and-out of so many places, not actually experiencing anywhere for real…” Frankie watches you from the corner of his eye, speaking slowly, as if reluctant to say something which might change your opinion of him.

“My friend’s wife- the one whose kid I’m godfather to- suggested I use instagram as a way to organize my photos, but also ‘so they know I’m still alive out here.’” He chuckles. “I kinda like it now- it’s like a public diary. Mostly it was a relief to find that I’m not the only weirdo out there who likes cooking in the woods.”

You breathe a laugh reflexively, but your mind is turning over his words. I keep an instagram, he’d said before. Like a diary. Well, that’s...really cute, actually.

“Well, that makes me feel really shallow,” you joke, unable to think of any deeper response to his unexpectedly meaningful answer.

“Nah.” Frankie dismisses your quip with an easy smile. He asks you about yourself, then. How you got into foraging, other questions inspired by the pictures he’d seen on your page.

For awhile you converse with the uncomplicated lightness of two strangers who know absolutely nothing about each other, but want to. As a dessert offering, you take out the tub of blackberries you’d gathered earlier. Frankie’s eyes widen at their size, fatter than any berry he’d see in the supermarkets.

His freely shared emotions- fascination, curiosity, delight- continue to confirm your impression of him. Safe. His mouth works as he savors the sweet fruit, lips puckering, head nodding in close-eyed approval.

You will yourself not to stare. Looking elsewhere, you glance up at the sky- and the angle of the sun sends you leaping to your feet. “Shit-”

Frankie startles. “What’s wrong?” He tenses, but remains seated. Oso jerks to wakefulness where she’d been dozing by his side.

“I’ve got to start back if I don’t want to be out here at night.” Hurriedly you check your phone to be sure of the time, your heart rate slowing upon seeing it’s not as late as you thought.

Frankie stands now to hand you back your container, still mostly full of berries. You pause. “Keep it,” you tell him. “Make yourself a campfire dessert.”

His lips part in surprise, but you step back before he can protest. “Or at least take them as a thank you. For the food...and the company.”

He purses his lips. “All right. I’ll save making dessert for next time, though.” He subtly searches for your reaction to his implied invitation.

Anticipation lightens your limbs, but you keep your feet firmly planted on the earth. “Next time.” You’re not sure you manage to smother the excitement in your smile.

---

Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb, @computeringturtle, @tobealostwanderer

[theburialofstrawberries]

Fic Writer Questions!

tagged by @areyougonnabe, thank you so much I am revved up to answer these

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

17 in total (including 1 on my newly created pseud for RPF posting. sigh.)

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

98,181. God, Aine, and Richard willing, we will hit 100K this year

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Yes she contains multitudes. Yes she is of Sherlock nation first and foremost. Some of these are tiny one-shots and at least 1 is a cross-over. And british actor RPF and terror 2018 rpf is the same. So like closer to 15 fandoms

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1, 2, 3 -- all three in the The Lady Doth Protest series, MCU Spiderman, Peter / MJ. Wrote this early into the release of homecoming, that first-mover advantage kicked in

4 -- The Viktor Nikiforov Affair (TVNA), Yuri on Ice, Yuri / Viktor. still the coolest thing I've written. Sequel in the works

5 -- Know Thyself, Know Thy Enemy (KTKTE), The Old Guard, Yusuf / Nicolo. I have made a pact with god to finish this, and finish it I will.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I respond to everything! It's such a privilege to have anyone read your work at all, let alone take the time to leave thoughts on it. I do not respond to comments on WIPs (such as KTKTE) but that's more of a moral incentive thing -- I allow myself to respond to comments on the previous chapter once I've posted the next chapter

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I am a firm fucking believer in optimistic endings only. The closest would be this one, where James Fitzjames dies and meets Death from Discworld

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

THEY'RE ALL HAPPY ! Probably TVNA if we're measuring happy by "bonkers improbable" as an interpol agent does find domestic happiness with a famous criminal.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Only the one, Terror x Discworld as mentioned above

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope.

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

YUP. Very vanilla stuff though.

I am proud of the one Spiderman M-rated fic I wrote, because I wanted to show how teenaged experiences of sex are less than ideal and driven by cultural scripts which take time to unlearn etc., and a few teens wrote to me saying they felt comforted by that depiction, which was great

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

My Spiderman fics got reposted to Wattpad, which I don't particularly mind. My little sister did create an account to tell the user to take it down, which is what I remember about that the most. That was very sweet of her.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

God I wish!!! I have had a few folks ask if I mind having my Johnlock / Yuri on Ice works translated to Chinese and Russian, which, again, what a fucking honour, but it hasn't happened yet. The seminal American romcom He's Just Not That Into You (2009) but it's about me and fic translators

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Again, God I wish! I would co-write with @shortcrust in a heartbeat

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

I just don't have one. I'm not loyal like that. But maybe Drarry

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

There's this one Yuri on Ice fantasy AU I started and got like 5K in where Yuri is a washerman and Viktor is a hunted prince whose wounded body drifts down river to Yuri's hut. I'll probably never finish that one but I reread it every now and then like damn. This was good actually

16) What are your writing strengths?

Humour / character voice, pretty / unusual phrases, some sense of economy for pivotal moments (though I do overwrite the mundane stuff)

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

Plot, cranking up tension until its unbearable, putting favored characters through the wringer

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I really like how it was done in this fic, where you can hover to see the translation. I think if you know the language / certain phrases and their context, you can and should write dialogue in that language, I do think writers have an obligation to make non-English languages less 'Other'. But if you don't know the language at all / are thinking of relying on Google Translate, it's probably best not to. For my This Way Up fic I'm denoting French dialogue in English, <Like this.>

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I'm not even under oath but fine it was dramione and it was on ff.net and I was fifteen years old. Shut up

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

The Viktor Nikiforov Affair! I'm proud of it for having some level of plot and for Viktor's ESL accent. And I loved the process because my dearest friends Bruna @moriarty and Amy @garkgatiss were shepherding me to the end and co-creating it with me

Tagging @shortcrust @tovezza @teledild0nix @pianodoesterror only if you want to!

[tundrainafrica]

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (1/17)

Summary:  "Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn't exist. Everything is a choice." At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him."

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn't.

Note: This has been sitting on my computer untouched for a while, along with the timeline I prepared for a multichapter fic. Will probs go back to it soon. Feedback is very much appreciated.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Link to cross-postings: AO3

In dreams people only see faces they already know.

It was an interesting fact Levi had probably come across, lazily scrolling through his social media timelines or opening countless tabs after getting into some Wikipedia blackhole in between the long days of schools and the short nights asleep.

He spent a fair amount of time on the internet, reading up about whatever bullshit politics came up with, controversies and bathroom reader fun facts. During his first year of college, it had stuck to him for a time. Maybe because it just seemed too unrealistic, too unbelievable.

After all, ever since he had started college, he felt like he had been dreaming of more and more unfamiliar faces. It could have been attributed at least to the fact that he was exposed to more people in a crowded city than he had been in the small town he grew up in. As time went by, these faces he barely recognized though, had become the main actors in his dream.

The long haired boy with the elvish features. The man with the clean cut appearance and a glint of mischief in his eyes. The oriental girl with subtle European features. The cheeky girl with a beat up pair of glasses and unkempt hair.

They and many others had been regulars in his dreams and Levi had come up with names for them already, names he remembered muttering, names he screamed multiple times in his head. By the time he woke up to the four walls of his bedroom a few hours before his first class, they were vague memories, only as intelligible as his view of the world right after waking up.

Some mornings, he had found himself more exhausted than when he had slept. Some mornings, he found his throat sore from screaming. Some days, his eyes were swollen from crying.

He lived alone in a dormitory and he had wanted to infer that it had been homesickness that had made those nightmares possible. He had never really abhorred being alone though, in fact he liked the privacy that came with having his own room.

He quickly shot down that theory and did not think too much about it soon after. His daily life did not give him too much time to ponder such fleeting and abstract of a concept as dreams in between lessons and training.  

The dreams never left him, some days they were more vivid than others. After a few years of navigating academics, trainings, and obligations, Levi had gotten used to brushing off that one tear he’d get as he woke up, taking a lozenge to soothe the sore throat or just leaving the lights off in his room to alleviate the pounding headache he would get some mornings.

Daily life and obligations never did allow him the time and space to ponder too much on those dreams. Levi chalked it up to stress and unexplained trauma, easily soothed by ten minutes scrolling through social media or hours reorganizing his room for the third time that week.

Financial and time constraints made it impossible as well to even consider consulting about it and Levi found himself compartmentalizing those dreams into those few hours of sleep he got at night and the one hour he allowed himself each day to adjust to the waking world.

The line blurred one night though when one of those names was nonchalantly mentioned among others.

"Hange Zoe..."

It was just one name in a list recited by their coach before they were all dismissed for the evening. Sandwiched between a few other names before and after it, it wasn't supposed to stand out like that. Oddly, it did.

As Levi rode his bike to his dormitory room after a tiring day of training, he found himself repeating that name again and again. He tried to make sense of the odd familiarity which came with a name he could have sworn he had never heard before.

A family friend? A childhood friend?

Levi entertained those possibilities. Having grown up in a small town, his family friends and childhood friends consisted of everyone in that tight knit community and he could have listed out all their names then and there. She wasn’t part of it.

To at least, satisfy his own curiosity, Levi had sent a message to his parents before going to sleep. Just in case he had met her before.

Levi woke up the next morning, his throat a little scratchier, his body a little more tired. The first thing he did was check his phone.

Hange Zoe wasn’t a family friend.

Levi put the covers over himself and closed his eyes. His head was pounding and his chest was heavy. He had only noticed a moment later that his eyes were wet, his breaths were coming out in heaves.

What did I dream about this time?

Levi needed the whole morning to recover.

                                  A Tale of Two Slaves

Levi managed at least to drag himself out of bed for afternoon training. By then, others have already started warming up. Levi wondered if he would be able to carry his body through a warm up jog, given his state only a few hours ago.

In the end, getting the jog done became a matter of discipline more than anything else and he had finished well above everyone else.

He had always been faster, given his smaller build and he had the natural muscle and athletic skill to be versatile as well. That was what made him stand out as the best athlete in the track and field team. He never cared too much either way about the admiration many of his teammates held towards him.

The recurring nightmares and the aftermaths of these though had left Levi averse to human interaction. Ironically, as he moved away from his small town and into the bigger city, his world had gotten smaller. Levi found himself keeping his world only wide enough to win track and field events and pass classes.

No man could really ever be an island though, no matter how much they try. Levi soon found that out when he saw that aforementioned Hange Zoe on the side of the track, talking to one of their coaches.

“This is Hange Zoe.”

“You can call me Hange.”

Levi did not need that quick introduction his coach had just given him. Somehow, the name and the face just clicked inside him. He looked expectantly at his coach and back at Hange.

Hange held out her hand to him and smiled. “I heard you’re the best one in the team. Coach Greg spoke highly of you.”

Levi narrowed his eyes at her. “What's she doing here?”

“Didn’t I tell you last time? Some of the premed students wanted to do case studies on athletes here for their final thesis. If you could help them out?” The coach turned to Hange. “Levi here is one of our best jumpers. He holds a pretty good record for sprinting, hurdles and throwing events as well.”

“Your jogging form looks amazing! I’d love to see you in action.”

Levi was not prepared for the invasion of privacy that came a second after. Hange held both of his hands towards her and leaned closer towards him. Before Levi could even stop himself, he had pushed her away and ran, the screaming of his coach to come back had become mere muffled screams in the background.

The only reason Levi did drag himself to training was for the fact that it was still one of the few hobbies he found complete calm yet complete liberation in. Those few moments after launching himself up in the air, those magical few moments high up in the air with only the empty sky above him, Levi felt free.

As Levi powered through, he found within him a burst of energy, built up from an idle morning cooped up in his room.

He had done those same drills so many times before. The excitement he got from flying through the air and running easily took over whatever exhaustion and rattledness plagued him only a second ago. He let his body memory guide him through each drill, concentrating his consciousness on other things like the cool wind on his skin as he shot through the track and the purple sky that stretched above as he performed horizontal jumps.

If Levi had been any more aware of his surroundings, he would have noticed his teammates leaving the track one by one. Maybe, he would have noticed as he started moving to the hurdles that the purple sky was slowly turning into a dark blue and the scenery around him was becoming just a little more than shadows.

It was nothing new. Levi had stayed behind to work on other skills multiple times and his coach and teammates had just learned to leave the club room open. Levi would leave an extra thirty minutes to an hour later than his companions,

At that training though, with little incentive to break away from that small bubble he had built for himself, not  a lot of things could have broken his concentration. Fifteen minutes into his hurdles exercises, the distraction came. Levi was raising one leg, positioning himself to jump a hurdle when he caught a shadow from his peripherals.

Someone had been watching him in the dark.

He was alone. Or he was supposed to be alone at least.

The combination of those realizations and the exhaustion that threatened to take over Levi only caused Levi to stumble on the hurdle in front of him and fall forward onto cold ground.

“Hey! You okay?”

It was that same voice from that same conversation Levi had walked away from just an hour ago. The voice was as loud and as annoying as it was an hour ago that even when his shadow was still a good few meters away, Levi remembered how it felt with her forehead once again pressed on his and her grip on his two hands.

Levi was frozen on the ground, his body still in shock at the sudden loss of control and the whiplash of what he had just imagined.  

“That looked painful.” Her voice was softer than it was a second ago. Hange put her hand on his.

Levi pulled away instinctively, and winced as his palms protested the quick action. Levi looked at his palms. In the dim light, he could see three long gashes lined up in the middle. Blood was starting to come out as well.

Levi was exhausted. The impact and the aftermath of falling on the ground, front first and the friction burns that followed, only further drained what was left of his energy.

By the time Hange helped him up by the shoulders  Levi was almost motionless, the small movements he made were carefully calculated for fear of aggravating the dull pain.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

                              A Tale of Two Slaves

“Sorry about a while ago… People say I’m just a little too intimidating  but I just get really excited about these types of things. You had such a good running form. You jump so high. You get a really good height above the hurdles… “ Hange gave him a consoling look. “Except that last one.”

Hange was closer to him than what Levi would have preferred at first. Oddly, he had gotten used to it quickly enough, particularly because he had no other choice.

The gashes on his palms were bloody and painful. With little to no means to bandage them himself, he was left to rely on the only person there and as Levi soon found out, she had problems with maintaining a comfortable social distance from people.

And she never stopped talking.

“Are the bandages too tight?” Hange asked, in between other ramblings Levi had tuned out.

“‘No.” The only words Levi had said since they had arrived in the club room fifteen minutes ago.

“Okay, let’s move on to your knees.”

Levi had not surveyed the damage himself but he guessed it was probably worse than his palms from Hange’s concerned frown.

“You’re gonna need stitches for this. The clinic probably isn’t open so you might have to go to the hospital… We could call a taxi and---”

“You’re a pre-med student, can’t you do it yourself?”

Hange blushed. “You trust me to do it?”

"A trip to the hospital will just be a waste of time." Levi admitted.

Hange rummaged deeper into the first aid kit. "This is gonna be painful though."

Better than taking a trip to the hospital now. Levi braced himself for it and decided to distract himself from the discomfort of the whole ordeal.  

“How does it feel? Flying in the sky like that?” Hange asked. At that point, Hange had started to talk more purposefully, as if she wanted to get a point across to him.

Levi guessed that it was all an attempt to distract him from the mini operation she was giving him. From his angle, Levi could not see the extent of the injuries, nor did he want to. The pain was bearable, although it was still much worse than what he would have considered a discomfort.

“I’ve always wanted to take a sport like that, maybe gymnastics, maybe figure skating or track and field? That’s the closest people can get to flying right?” Hange was asking too many questions but it was obvious she was not expecting answers.

Her words flowed as smoothly as the movement of the needle and thread he could see from his angle.

Something about the way she talked to him was comforting and eventually Levi had almost completely relaxed, the pain of needle to torn skin a distant memory. He lay back on the bench and closed his eyes, focusing not on her words but instead on the familiar warm tone as she spoke.

The sensation of needle to skin, the burning pain, the dizziness that followed. They were all too familiar. All accompanied by that familiar warm voice.

Maybe we should just live here together. Right Levi?

If we keep running and hiding, what will that get us.

Hange's voice tore into his daydream. “What do you mean? Are you running from something?"

[macgyvermedical]

Non-medical writing-related (ish) question. On AO3 you noted on your MacGyver fic 'Radioactive' that it was from an RP. If you don't mind, I'm curious: What is your creative process like for fics and RPs? And what is it like RPing whump-centric scenarios?

Ooh thanks for taking interest!

For fics (particularly Thin Air, Close Call + Background Noise, Safe, Chance Meeting, Bang, Rat Trap, Reed Switch + Electromagnet, etc... I'm MedicBaymax over there if anyone is interested) usually I have a fun medical concept that I think about and research for a long time. Not even like, in the fic research way, just I get really into something. For example, in Rat Trap, it's the pharmacokinetics/pharmacodynamics of warfarin, and I was thinking about it for literal years before I even started thinking about applying it to MacGyver fanfiction, and then months until I started writing the fic.

Once I do decide it's gonna be a fic then break the fic down by what events I want to happen and then what feelings I want those events to have for my readers. I come up with an opening gambit (or at least an interesting way to cause a problem for the character) and write that as the first chapter. Since the events don't usually translate directly into chapters, I basically write for 2000-ish words and try to find a natural break or cliffhanger around that point. And I keep doing that until all the events are done and the story can close.

In longer fics, I try as hard as I can not to think about the fic while I'm writing it, or else I accidentally exhaust my excitement about it and it becomes a WIP forever. I also try not to post a new chapter until I am at least one chapter ahead, so I have incentive to keep writing so that I can keep posting because I have such a great next chapter already but it's just sitting there on the word document.

For RPs, it's basically that I've talked through a certain scenario with someone (usually this is more whumpy than medical- like in Spines Allie and I just knew we wanted a scene where Jack had to pull sea urchin spines out of Mac). We also talk about where the situation will take place and if there are any logistical problems like "well why don't they just call 911??" we figure those out. We also decide what characters we will “play”. Then one of us writes a starter that sets the scene and we trade back and forth writing paragraphs.

All the RPs on my AO3 (Alibi, Radioactive, Spines, It's Leaking!, DIY or Die Tag, and Nightmares), are directly copied and pasted without editing from Discord (Skype for earlier RPs, and while I was serving in AmeriCorps and Allie was responding to hurricane Maria it was sometimes email or even text messages d/t the lack of consistent internet for chat platforms).

As far as what it is like, it's a little like writing a fic but not all the impetus is on you to figure out what happens next. Like if you don't know what’s going to happen next you just hand it off and hope the other person has a good idea. Makes it much more likely that it will eventually finish. Plus it puts me in a time crunch because I know someone else is waiting, which helps me actually get the paragraph out.

But its definitely also like reading a fic because you don't know what's going to happen next and you get to real-time squee with the other person if they write something awesome or devastating!

Also, if you don't mind me putting this out there- I'm looking for a new RP partner. I prefer long-form, fic-like RPs with the intent to publish on AO3. Gen and canon-compliant highly, highly preferred (slightly outside this okay, like a trans headcanon or fix-it, no AUs), no sex. I really like medical realism but will fudge slightly for the sake of whump.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Four

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Hey there my broskis! I figured I would start backing this up over here as well, cross-posting from my AO3. The chapters got somewhat restructured, so there may be some retreaded ground. Hopefully this will also give me a bit of incentive to actually finish this tale ;-;

Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Paladin Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, found himself incredibly nervous as he watched Backhand suit up for the first time. She gave him no real reason to be, of course, climbing into her power armor with veteran grace. She had forgone their jumpsuit in favor of her Vault suit so she was short a few of the securing clips, but it was her call. She did put on a hood though, stating that she wasn’t a fan of getting chunks of her hair ripped out by the helmet.

  Danse barely hid his grin at the way she shook herself all over once she was in the suit, metal clanking loudly as pieces fell into place. “What do you think, Knight Vega?” He asked cautiously.

  “I think I’m gonna’ have a lot of fun with this.” Backhand sounded like she was smiling.

  Proctor Ingram sighed. “Yeah yeah, just try not to fuck up your actuators. Damn kids and your Prydwen jumps.”

  Danse flipped his helmet and smoothly clicked it into place in his suit’s gorget, then blinked in confusion at the HUD. “Proctor, did you change the-”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry Danse. The yellow HUD makes me queasy.” Ingram apologized. Danse sighed, bringing up the internal options screen and readjusting the HUD color back to the warm amber he preferred. “Don’t be that way, Paladin, I have to look at a million of these helmets every day.”

  “What? How do you change the…oh, I got it.” Backhand paused, obviously fiddling with the HUD in her own suit. “ Purple .” She said firmly.

  Danse tried to mask his chuckle by clearing his throat, but the look Ingram shot him told him the attempt was unsuccessful. “Well, uh, I think it’s about time we begin our maneuvers.” He said hurriedly.

  “You two take as long as you need. Bring Brandis back safe. Backhand, remember what I told you.” Ingram said sternly, saluting the two of them.

  Backhand nodded solemnly, returning the salute. “Ad Victoriam, Proctor Ingram.” Danse saluted as well, curious about Ingram's mysterious statement.

  Maxson hadn’t cleared them for vertibird transport to a general location. Danse could see why to an extent, the elder probably needed all the aerial support he could get while they sent out scouts to find more clues about the Institute. The reason Maxson had given was...still logical, but a little different.

  “ With you on foot, there will be less warning for Brandis. ” Arthur had said in his briefing, arms behind his back as always. “ If he is alive, we don’t know what shape he’ll be in mentally. Use extreme caution. If you fear for your lives, do not hesitate to kill him .” He glared at Danse when he said that and Danse had swallowed hard.

  Do not hesitate. Do not hesitate like you did with Cutler, Paladin.

  Danse let Backhand set a pace she was comfortable with once they were on the ground and he followed her lead, the paladin silent as they marched. His thoughts churned and roiled, scratching to escape his head in a frenzy of uncertainty. He almost didn’t notice Backhand skipping , aside from how ridiculously loud her sabatons were on the remains of the road. “Knight Vega, what on earth .”

  “ Finally! I’ve been trying to ask you something for five minutes. Figured I would opt for a different approach.” She laughed, knuckling his shoulder with her gauntlet. “After we find Paladin Brandis, I have-”

  “ If we find Paladin Brandis.” Danse corrected her grimly.

  Backhand paused, tilting her head to the side. “Sir?”

  “I said, if we find Brandis. There’s no guarantee that he’s alive after all this time. It’s entirely possible that we’re simply on a remains retrieval detail.” Danse warned her.

  Backhand shook her head after a moment. “Paladin, you really think I don’t know that? Damn.” She grumbled. “You’d rather find him alive, right? That’s the hope?” Danse nodded reluctantly. Brandis was an incredibly skilled survivalist, a respected squadron leader and free thinker of the highest caliber. He would be a phenomenal asset to the Brotherhood if…

  If he was still alive.

  “I apologize for my pessimistic outlook.” Danse said after a moment. “I have not had…exceptional luck when it comes to search and rescue details.”

  “Hey, first time for everything.” He was almost positive that she was grinning at him under her helmet. “You’ve got me here. You can't say the homeland doesn't take care of their own; I’m practically the embodiment of a four-leaf clover.”

  “We can hope.” Danse murmured, half to himself. “You certainly came through previously.”

  “Maybe I’m your good luck charm.”

  The notion that he had outlived his men because of luck left a bitter taste in Danse’s mouth and he fell silent once more. She at least seemed to understand not to poke him and simply carried on down the road at an easily-managed pace.

  Danse couldn’t decide whether he personally wanted to find Brandis or not. On the one hand, of course he was a valuable asset. But on the other, Brandis had a penchant for… noticing things. Arthur had butted heads with the older man numerous times, usually over what Maxson labeled ‘ trivial issues ’.

  And Danse still hadn’t forgotten the nasty rumors he’d heard about the real reason for Recon Squadron Artemis being sent to scout the Commonwealth…

  “ Brandis overreaches, connects well with young recruits. The elder fears his influence. ”

  “ Brandis was sent to die and you know it! ”

  The atmosphere in the barracks had turned ugly fast when Arthur had dropped the tidbit that the Brotherhood lost contact with Squadron Artemis almost immediately upon their arrival in the Commonwealth.

  Aspirants got into shouting matches; several scuffles broke out. Danse ended up wading through the midst of a pitched fistfight, throwing one knight over his shoulder and pinning the other beneath his arm momentarily.

  “ This is behavior unbecoming of a soldier, knights! ” He had shouted over the ruckus. “ Stop the childish antics, use your brains and think! ” His voice carried in the cramped bunk room, and due to his massive height he was easily visible through the swirling hurricane of young men and women. “ Paladin Brandis would be ashamed of every one of you for losing sight of what is truly important in the Brotherhood! Your brothers and sisters are all you have in the world, you cannot set into them at the first sign of trouble! ”

  “ Elder Maxson wanted Paladin Brandis to die! ” One brave scribe cried. “ That’s why he sent him! ”

  “ He is the elder and you will show him the respect he deserves! ” Danse admonished the young man. “ I will not tolerate this insubordination! ”

  “ You’re only on his side because you’re fucking him! ” The knight over his shoulder yelled furiously, beating his fists against Danse’s shoulder blade.

  The entirety of the barracks went dead quiet and Danse was certain his face must have been an ungodly shade of purple from his insinuation. “ What did you just say, Knight? ”

  The young man slowed to a stop, and then suddenly burst into tears. Danse set him down on his feet and the knight stood in front of him, his shoulders hunched. “ I ap-pologize, Palad-d-din Danse sir. ” He had hiccupped, saluting him without looking up.

  “ Knight, you cannot lash out with harsh words or actions just because something isn’t going your way. ” Danse had known he was letting him off too easy, but the young knight was still weeping. “ You will go to Knight-Captain Cade in the morning. He is…far better at managing situations like these than I am. I fear I will do nothing but cause more damage. ”

  “ Paladin Danse, have they told you anything about Paladin Brandis? Anything at all? ” A tiny squire had piped up from the door, her hair already braided for sleep.

  Danse shook his head regretfully. “ All I know is what you’ve already been told. I have no other information at this time .”

  “ Will…will you tell us if you learn anything new? ” She had continued hesitantly, glancing up at the aspirant holding her hand for confirmation. Murmuring rippled through the crowd, all eyes on Danse as he stood there silent, stoic. The knight's words echoed in his mind over and over, on his side, on his side...

  “ You have my word as a Brotherhood paladin, Squire .”

  It had been a simple thing to promise then. Almost negligibly simple. Danse shook his head, trying to disperse the memories. This rumination would get him nowhere. Thank goodness he had Knight Vega with him, at least she could keep an eye out for threats while he wandered down his proverbial Memory Lane.

  Speaking of Knight Vega…

  Danse swung his head around, perplexed. She had just been here, it wasn’t exactly like she could sneak in all that plating. He spotted her finally as he came over the next rise in the road. She appeared to be speaking to a civilian, the ragged-looking man gesturing wildly off to the side.

  “…idea how many of them there are in the facility?” Backhand was asking.

  “Usually we only see three to five, b-but sometimes there’s loads more! Hounds too! Please, General, if you can spare the men, we really need your help.” The man begged.

  General? Danse thought with confusion. Why is he calling her General?

  “Currently, we’re focusing our efforts on rebuilding Fort Independence…er, I mean, the Castle. We have mobile cells but they are few and far between. I will send word that-” Backhand was cut off by the man shaking his head rapidly.

  “I knew it, I knew you would refuse! That’s how it always is! Say anything about super mutants and everyone pusses out!” The man shook his fist in Backhand’s impassive face. “I had hoped that you of all people would be able to help us, but I guess I was wrong.” He spat, “should have known better than to trust things would be alright with your group back on the playing field.”

  Danse had heard enough, practically stomping down the road towards the man yelling at his charge. “Civilian, I suggest you watch your tone.” He uttered the words curtly, his eyes narrowed behind his visor.

  The man huffed out a breath at him, obviously unimpressed. “So you have a bodyguard now, General?”

  “Hardly.” Backhand replied dryly.

  Danse got the feeling he had just been insulted, but he brushed it off. “Where is the nest of vermin?” He queried instead, making a considerable effort to try and keep his tone neutral. “You mentioned super mutants.”

  “They’re in Weston. The pre-war water treatment plant. Are… you’re going to help?” The man asked uncertainly.

  “There are other, more important matters that currently take priority, civilian. When we have the time, we will investigate. Now I would advise you to be on your way before I have to assist you in making the choice of departure.” Danse ordered, his laser rifle not quite at the ready, but high enough that to the untrained eye it would look like he was poised to strike.

  The man grumbled something under his breath and then announced, “I'd better see you later, General. Oberland would be a good spot to spiff up, y'know, but it's so close to Weston no one will touch it.”

  “Thank you, Rob. Hey, tell your wife I said hello. I hope your little one is doing well.” Backhand's face had gone strangely soft.

  For some reason, the man's shoulders relaxed. “She is, she's doing really good. Her mom is teachin' her everything that she knows. She's wicked smart for her age.” He bragged.

  “No doubt there. Take care of yourself, and tell people to steer clear until we can get to Weston.” Backhand gave the man a nod in reply to the tip of his hat. “Thanks for helping.” She said out of the corner of her mouth to Danse, who straightened up.

  “I don’t recall doing anything helpful, Knight Vega.” He was startled when she knocked her pauldron against his own in a playful gesture.

  “Rob loves to puff himself up and talk about how no one’s ever done anything for him ever. It’s harmless, but he’ll drag on for ages unless you nip it in the bud.” She grinned at him. “Thanks for going on the offensive and heading him off at the pass. Lots of people are like him out here. When the Minutemen disbanded, it meant that the simple people had to take the full load of raider assaults and super mutant attacks. Still plenty of distrust for me and my crew.”

  “Your ‘crew’?” Danse echoed, thoroughly confused. Why did he call her General? What is she talking about?

  Backhand just nodded, putting her helmet back on. “You want to take point? You were kind of spacing out back there, Paladin. Might help you get centered. Run down the list of objectives?” She suggested.

  “I must be worse than I thought if you noticed my thousand-yard stare.” Danse realized it was a sarcastic quip the second after the words left his mouth, and he felt horribly awkward.

  That is, until there was an undignified guffaw from the knight. She clunked her whole forearm against his own in a makeshift nudge, still snickering. “How incredibly rude of you, Paladin! I’ve got bad eyesight, but it’s still there. Kinda’. Didn’t need twenty-twenty to see that you were deep in thought.”

  “Knight Vega, I appreciate your attention to detail. And…” Danse hesitated, biting his lip. “And thank you for… humoring my wandering mind.”

  “I’m not humoring anything. You’ve been through a lot recently and you’ve had no breathing room at all. You’re allowed to have time to process.” When she put it like that ...

  Danse made a noise of acknowledgement. Backhand cleared her throat, stepping aside and letting him go ahead of her.

  …

  Do me a favor and try to limit his time on board this rustbucket, okay? I don't know what's going on and it's not my place to ask. But Danse is a good man and he shouldn't be getting jerked around, Elder or no.

  Ingram's words spurred Backhand to speak up. “Paladin Danse, sir?” When he turned to face her, she wished that he wasn’t wearing his helmet. “Sir, I meant what I said before.”

  “What?”

  “When I said I was available if you needed someone to talk to. I’m serious. It’ll all be off the record, just between us. The only person I report to is you.” Backhand said firmly.

  “And the elder.” Danse reminded her, his voice soft.

  “Nope.” Backhand grinned, trying to lighten his obviously bleak mood. “Just you. You might answer to the elder, but I don’t.”

  “That’s tantamount to treason, Knight.”

  “He’s not a sovereign , for--”

  “Elder Maxson’s orders are law in this chapter of the Brotherhood, Knight Vega.” Danse sounded like he was repeating the words from memory, clearly used to defending the young elder. “I suggest you cease your needlessly-flippant flouting of Brotherhood practices.”

  Backhand knew she was on thin ice. “Of course, sir. I apologize. Forgive me my misstep.” She saluted loosely. “My previous military experiences were a little more lax. When out on patrol we spoke to each other and our superiors as equals. It was common to poke fun at the higher-ups, as well.”

  “I wouldn’t begrudge you a joke or two, but not at the expense of the elder.” Danse replied tersely. “He works exceptionally hard to keep everything in line and running smoothly. I will not tolerate any disrespect towards him.”

  “Understood, Paladin.” Her suspicion only thickened at Danse’s rebuke. What is Maxson doing to him? Normally, soldiers gleefully took the opportunity to joke about their superiors. But Danse was acting like it was a cardinal sin to so much as tease about the young elder. No wonder Ingram had told her to take her time. Danse was obviously kept on an incredibly short leash. The longer he was away from Maxson, the better.

  They continued down the road in silence for nearly an hour before Danse finally sighed heavily. “Knight Vega, I must apologize again. You were not raised in the Brotherhood, it’s not as if you would know any better. My shortness of temper is unrelated to you.”

  “It’s okay. You’re worried about Brandis, right?” Backhand asked. “A little scared, a little hopeful?”

  “For being a relic of a bygone age, you are remarkably perceptive.” Backhand sputtered a little at being called a relic but Danse carried on gravely, “I am concerned about the state Brandis may be in when we reach him. If he is mentally compromised…dealing with a man who was Brotherhood but has lost his senses is not a task I take lightly.” He turned to her. “The younger recruits love Brandis. He was a father figure to a multitude of them.”

  “You promised them you would bring him back.” She realized. Danse didn’t reply immediately, instead focusing his attention to the road in front of them.

  “I could not feasibly promise anything.” He muttered, quiet enough that she was unsure if she was supposed to hear him. “It was not within my power to promise.”

  “But you did anyway. On that slim hope that Brandis was alive and in one piece.” Backhand’s heart ached as she thought of the paladin trying to decide what to tell a group of young recruits, a group of kids .

  “…Yes, Knight. I did.” Danse admitted after a long pause. “My motivations are irrelevant. I lied to children, because I…I cannot see the little ones as soldiers. They begged for news of Brandis and I had nothing to offer them except my word as a paladin.”

  “That’s okay.” Backhand said simply. “We’re going to find him.”

  “I suppose we are.” Danse sounded a little surprised. His shoulders straightened up. “One way or another.”

  The asphalt had dissolved into nothing a mile back, leaving the two of them to continue trekking through the wilderness on the remains of the flattened earth that was once a road. Backhand was used to the booby-trapped state of everything at this point, so she didn’t even bat an eyelash when she heard the warning beep of a landmine.

  Danse on the other hand stopped dead, helmet swinging rapidly back and forth as he tried to locate the mine before it went off. “Wait, Knight Vega-!” He began as she knelt, trailing off when he realized that she had deactivated the landmine. “Oh.”

  “Impromptu bomb squad.” Backhand replied by way of explanation, tucking the salvaged mine into her satchel. “I got pretty good at working in gauntlets.”

  His worry was touching all the same, the paladin letting out an awkward chuckle. “Hell, maybe you are lucky.” He shifted his weight nervously, pauldrons clattering in the relative stillness. “I should have known better than to think Brandis would make it easy. There’s a reason that old codger lived through everything.”

  “You can either think I'm lucky, or you can just attribute it to the Sarge's bandanna like I usually do.” Backhand grinned, flexing her fingers experimentally. “Keep your eyes open for more and point them out if you see ‘em. These gauntlets are way better than the ones in my old suit. The mines won’t know what hit them.” 

  “Affirmative, Knight Vega.”

  With both of them on guard, their progress was slowed somewhat. But they found three more mines thanks to their diligence, and Backhand carefully deactivated every one before the timer ran out. She was so focused on scanning the ground that she almost walked into Danse’s back when the paladin stopped in the middle of the path. “Danse?” Inwardly, she cursed herself for not addressing him properly.

  Danse didn’t even seem to notice though, his attention fixed on a bunker built into the side of the shallow valley they were in. “Recon bunker Theta…of course .” He hissed like he was talking to himself. “How could I have forgotten?”

  “Is this the place?” Backhand asked, peering over his shoulder warily. The armored man nodded, already striding towards the door of the bunker.

  “It must be.”

  …

  There was a terminal affixed to the outer concrete of the building and the paladin wasted little time painstakingly manipulating his huge gauntlets to press the correct keys on the keyboard. There was a loud clunk! when the lock on the door disengaged, but the door itself remained shut tight. Danse swore under his breath, firmly rapping his knuckles on the metal door. “Paladin Brandis!” He called. “Can you hear me, sir?”

  “Paladin Danse? Are you sure you should-” Backhand started to ask, sounding nervous.

  “ Quiet , Vega.” Danse ordered brusquely. To her credit, she immediately fell silent. He could still hear her shifting back and forth behind him though, and he wondered what on earth could have her so antsy. Surely it couldn’t be that she was worried about what Brandis might do? “ Paladin Brandis! If you’re in there-”

  “Uh, D-Danse, I don’t think you should be so loud.”

  “Vega, he will not hear me otherwise.” Danse, losing his limited patience, hammered his fist on the door. “ Brandis! ”

  He heard a flurry of motion behind the door. “Who’s out there? How did you get that keycode? Never mind, never mind, just go away! I’m not letting you in here!”

  Danse’s throat tightened at the elderly officer’s voice. “Paladin Brandis, sir! It’s me, Pal--"

  In his distress over finding Brandis, Danse had forgotten to be wary of his surroundings. Heavy footsteps shook the ground and Backhand’s cry of surprise was the only warning he had, the paladin halfway through turning around when he was thrown against the door of the bunker by a thunderous blow from a behemoth’s improvised club. His shoulder protested violently at the rough treatment but Danse shrugged off the pain. He was so used to getting pummeled by the inside of his armor, he practically anticipated the bruises. He raised his head and got a good eyeful of the ugly brute inches from his face.

  Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. There was a dull roaring in his ears, static pounding at his temples like a hammer while he stared at the creature and it stared right through him. Bloody spittle foamed around its mouth, eyes wide and pupils nothing but pinpricks. Nostrils flared to take in his scent.

  This thing was once human . Danse felt sick to his stomach.

  “ Paladin! ” Backhand yelled, firing a glancing shot off the beast’s shoulder that made it rear back. She was giving him time again, Danse realized dimly, his body refusing to cooperate as he remembered Dawes’ horrific death at the hands of a super mutant, remembered Cutler, Cutler like a punch to the face. And this mutant was a behemoth .

  His laser rifle, unnamed as of yet, shook in one slack, trembling hand.

  Backhand flanked the massive creature to end up back at his side, her pauldron clanking into his own. “Paladin!” She barked and Danse instantly straightened up, his grip snapping tight on his gun.

  “Ma’am!”

  “Attack the enemy, soldier!” She sounded almost like Krieg, all righteous authority and fury inches from detonation.

  An order, an order. Danse felt his body refocus on the here and now, banishing the horrific images of Dawes’ demise for later contemplation. “Yes ma’am!” He replied automatically, pulling the trigger and spraying laser shots into the behemoth’s massive chest. Backhand slung Righteous Authority back out of the way to dangle from its strap, her shotgun in her hands now. Danse was so used to the comparatively quiet report of laser weaponry that he actually flinched when she fired the shotgun. The drum-fed gun bolted to life at her touch, heavy slugs making the behemoth pause.

  “ Eat hot lead, freak! ” Backhand shouted over the weapon, her words punctuating her shots. Danse got the feeling that pairing her with a Fat Man would make her nigh unstoppable.

  Behind him, he heard something swing open. The door to the bunker! Brandis! “Knight Vega, maintain this position!” He demanded, not bothering to look back.

  “A paladin…?” Brandis’ voice had an unfamiliar tremor in it.

  “ Now , Vega!” Danse snapped.

  “Sir, yes sir!” Backhand replied quickly, sliding into place where he had been a second ago. Her power armor frame filled the doorway as well as his had, and Danse brandished his rifle. The behemoth brayed deafeningly loud, seeming perturbed that its prey refused to cooperate.

  “Not today, you giant freak!” Danse announced firmly.

  …

  Backhand had barely caught a glimpse of a worn face with an unkempt beard peering around the side of the doorway before she moved herself in front of the opening. She braced her shotgun against her plating and continued to hammer away at the behemoth, shell after shell ripping the creature’s thick hide.

  Danse kept up his own attack, a seemingly endless stream of mutant-related verbal abuse pouring from him in time with his laser shots. Backhand almost wished she could hear him clearer, certain that he was swearing a blue streak that could put Sergeant Cathan to shame.

  That club swept low, knocked Danse’s legs out from beneath him. The paladin landed on his back with a grunt of pain and the behemoth (in a surprising show of intelligence) picked up one of the nearby boulders and dropped it onto Danse’s chest. Danse gritted out an infuriated curse and started struggling to lift the boulder, actuators in his armor shrieking under the strain when the behemoth started pushing down on the rock. Clearly it was either trying to crack Danse’s armor or crush the paladin inside it.

  “Shut the door.” Backhand said calmly. There was the sound of fidgeting behind her. “It’s going to be alright. Just shut the door.”

  At the loud clunk! of the door closing, the behemoth looked up from Danse. Backhand barely had a moment to inhale before she was snatched up by a massive hand, the creature roaring triumphantly.

  “Knight Vega!” Danse shouted, the paladin still trying to shift the massive rock enough to get free.

  Backhand squirmed desperately in the beast’s grip, arms pinned to her sides and her shotgun pointed towards the ground. Well kid, you gave it a good try . She pumped her trigger out of desperation, not sure if she even had any shells left, and blew a hole through the behemoth’s foot. The gargantuan mutant howled in pain, flinging her through the air when it toppled over. She hit the ground hard enough to lose consciousness briefly, her head slamming against the inside of the helmet.

  When she blinked her eyes open again, all she could see was a power armor sabaton inches from her face. There was a muffled report to her right and super mutant skull fragments and brain tissue abruptly sprayed across her helmet visor. “ Tango down .” Danse snarled.

  “Jesus.” Backhand muttered, her gauntlet clanking loudly against her helmet. “What a hit.”

  “Are you injured, Knight?” Danse sounded like his teeth were clenched.

  “Blacked out for a second is all. You alright?”

  “That’s irrelevant. We need to see to Paladin Brandis.” Danse said sharply.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve heard my name.” Said a quivering voice. “I imagine I’m hallucinating at this point. Going mad from seclusion.”

  “It’s Danse, sir, Paladin Danse. Don’t you recognize me?” Danse asked, and Backhand was sure she wasn’t supposed to hear the uncertainty in his tone.

  Danse pulled her to her feet and she took in the sight of the elderly man in badly-worn combat armor across from them. He was studying Danse hard, his eyes widening when Danse unfastened his helmet and took it off. “ Danse? You…is it really you?” Brandis asked, his voice still shaking. “Oh my God, is it true?”

  “It’s me, sir.” Danse replied stiffly. “Knight Vega and I were tasked with reacquiring you. Elder Maxson-”

  “Maxson? It’s his fault that I’m even…my squadron…” Brandis’ words grew disjointed, choked with emotion.

  “ The elder believes that you are still a valuable asset to the war effort, Paladin Brandis.” If Danse had been stiff before, he was outright stony now.

  Brandis, entertainingly, waved off Danse’s chastising attitude. “Yes yes, praise be to the elder. I suppose it’s you two that I ought to be thanking, though. After all, you’re the ones who risked life and limb to come find me.”

  “It was Knight Vega’s first assignment as a member of the Brotherhood. She was honored beyond measure.”

  “I don’t suppose she can talk , can she?” Brandis asked dryly. Backhand decided that she liked Brandis. “Why all this trouble for me, though? And so suddenly? I’ve been sending distress signals for years , Danse.”

  “It was only through sheer luck and our acquisition of Knight Vega’s skillset that we even managed to signal the Brotherhood for support.” Danse replied curtly. “Over half of Recon Squad Gladius is dead, their lives claimed in the line of duty. Much like your own squadron.”

  “Oh, Danse.” Brandis said helplessly. “It’s such a heavy burden to carry. Their lives…and Astlin , I know you were so fond of her.”

  “She was a good soldier. Best marksman I ever knew.” Danse gritted out.

  “I’ll bet she was an even better friend.” Backhand said tentatively.

  “She died with honor.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” What the hell was going on? Danse sounded livid , the set of his shoulders visibly tense even through the power armor. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  “Danse, what does the Brotherhood even expect to get out of me? I’m too old, I’ve…I’ve been away for too long.” Brandis floundered.

  “Elder Max-”

  “ Fuck Arthur, Danse!” Brandis exploded. “I’m asking you . What do you believe that the Brotherhood can get out of me?”

  “Intimate knowledge of the Commonwealth.” Danse snapped. “You’re a survivor, Brandis, and your skills could be indispensable to our troops.”

  “There’s nothing I could teach that the locals couldn’t Danse, you and Maxson know that.”

  “Yes, and you’re not a filthy local. You’re Brotherhood.”

  “Am I?” Brandis mused, glancing towards Backhand. “And I’ll assume that Knight Vega is one of the so-called ‘ filthy locals ’?”

  Danse paused, his hand still up in the air in the beginning of an irritated gesture. Backhand barely kept her snort in check. “Knight Vega is a…special case.” He said finally.

  “Typical Brotherhood. You’re filthy, you’re garbage, you’re nothing . And then, you’re a special case if you’re useful. Sound familiar, Danse?” Brandis grumbled. “Sleep with one eye open, Vega. Maxson is a little boy in a much larger man’s battle coat.”

  “Paladin!” Danse barked. “There is no need for this insubordinate behavior in front of my ward!”

  Brandis drew himself up to his full height (which, next to Danse in full armor, wasn’t exactly intimidating ) and jabbed his index finger into the larger paladin’s breastplate. “Don’t you dare speak to me about insubordination, Danse.” He hissed, his green eyes snapping with fury. “My squadron is dead because of Arthur and you still want to play Lancelot?”

  “The Brotherhood will honor their memory.” Danse intoned dully.

  “I’ll honor your memory if you keep this up, you damn fool.” Brandis growled. “No, no , I won’t go back to that madman. Better that I stay in isolation.”

  “I’m relatively certain that you staying here isn’t an option.” Backhand interjected. “Look, if the elder is as tricky as you say, he’s not going to let you live out your days in peace. You’re Brotherhood, or you were once, and you know too much. It was the same with the army.” Danse looked horrified and Backhand hurried to finish, sure that her opening wouldn’t last. “You should be as close to him as possible, if anything. Make it more difficult for him to do something shady by keeping an eye on him.”

  “Knight Vega! ” Danse sputtered indignantly.

  But Brandis was nodding his head, looking intently at her. “Take that helmet off, Vega. I make it a point to know my allies.”

  “Yes sir.” Backhand undid the helm and pulled it over her head, tucking it under her arm as an afterthought. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

  “You’re bleeding, Knight Vega.” Brandis pointed out after she saluted him and Danse fairly pounced on her, a huge finger looped through the pauldron on her shoulder jerking her around to face him. His gauntlet grazed her temple and she winced, grimacing when the metal returned brick-red.

  “Just a scrape. I’ll be fine.” She insisted.

  “I’m certain you will, Knight. How long have you been in Danse’s care?” Brandis asked genteelly.

  “Ah, about t…two, three days?” Backhand answered cautiously.

  “But Danse said that-”

  “Knight Vega did not immediately accept the offer. I imagine that our ranks did not strike her as particularly impressive.” Danse cut Brandis off, his tone incredibly bitter.

  “It wasn’t that. I had other obligations to deal with.” Backhand corrected him, trying to be gentle. “You guys were in a worse situation than most, but my responsibilities took me elsewhere.”

  “True, I did not…I apologize, Knight Vega. That was unnecessarily harsh of me.” Danse admitted after a second.

  “Be still my heart. You got him to apologize! Never thought I’d see the day.” Brandis said with a hint of faked bewilderment. Backhand decided to keep the fact that Danse had apologized to her three times in the same day to herself. “Alright Danse, I’ll return to that rustbucket . But only because Knight Vega makes an excellent point.”

  “Shall I signal us a vertibird?” Danse asked, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

  “ Ha! And let Maxson get the drop on me? No, no, it’ll be better for me to show up on foot, alone. Provided you two have been discreet, this place will still serve its purpose as a fallback point. I’ll meander for a few days and then make my way…hmm.” Brandis’ eyes rested on Backhand.

  “Can I loan you my suit for your journey if you won’t accept an escort?” Backhand offered, following his train of thought. “My combat armor is functional and on standby. May I loan him my power armor, Paladin Danse sir?” She knew she was spreading it on thick, but Danse was obviously a stickler for protocol. “He is a senior ranking officer, and I…I mean if I’m with you, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” It couldn’t hurt to flatter him a bit.

  Danse’s face pinked up endearingly and he cleared his throat. “I don’t see why not. If you hope to arrive safely Brandis, this is the least we can do. I would prefer, of course, to accompany you sir. But it’s your decision.”

  “How gracious of you to permit an old man his preferences.” Brandis replied dryly. Backhand couldn’t stifle her hiccup of laughter and Danse ‘ harrumph ’ed, obviously embarrassed by her behavior.

  “Knight Vega and I will busy ourselves with other tasks in the Commonwealth until you make your return to the Brotherhood, Paladin.” Danse said sternly. “You realize that my knight cannot return without her armor and empty-handed.”

  “Understood, Danse.”

  Backhand fought the excited leap in her chest at the way Danse referred to her as ‘his’ knight, choosing instead to extract herself from her power armor and start strapping on her heavy combat gear. It’s only because he’s sponsoring you. Don’t be ridiculous , she scolded herself while she donned her breastplate and greaves.

  “My thanks, Knight Vega. When you return, I’ll see that your armor is waiting in the bay for you.” Paladin Brandis promised, a heavy hand landing on her shoulder. “As well as a frazzled Maxson, if I play my cards right.” The old man grinned, his eyes still sad. “You two can help yourselves to anything in the bunker. I’ve collected some odds and ends over the years, so if you see something you need it’s yours.”

  “Much obliged, sir.” Backhand said gratefully, struggling to recall what Preston had asked her to pick up in her travels. Well, we can always use more aluminum ...

Part Five

[fizzychocolatemilk]

WIP Update

I’m going to post WIP Updates every so often where I tell you guys what I’m working on. It’s incentive for me to keep writing and a way to stay organized.

1. Bakudeku Snow White AU

This is going to be a multichapter fic that I’ll start posting on AO3 once I finish it. I’ll probably post snippets of chapters as I finish them on here though. I have the whole story outlined and I’m working on the first chapter. Right now, I have it outlined to be 8 chapters, but it might get longer or shorter than that. This AU was inspired by some todobaku edits that I saw on the bird app. I don’t remember who did them, but kudos to them for giving me the idea. Baku is Snow White obvi, and Izu is the Huntsman. I wanted them to have their childhood friends dynamic, but I don’t like how Prince Charming and Snow White only meet approximately once before they get married.

2. Bakudeku Personality Swap

This is probably going to be a long oneshot, or maybe a twoshot. Depending on how it goes. It will probably get finished before the Snow White AU. It’s a quirk shenanigans fic where a child’s quirk switches baku’s and deku’s personalities. I don’t really have a planned plot for this one, and I’m figuring it out as I go. But I feel like there’s not enough bakudeku quirk shenanigans, even though it’s an amazing trope.

I have other fic ideas, but I’m only going to include fics that are at least at the planning stage to my WIP Updates. 

[penguiduck]

The Relationship Between Online Readers & Writers: Motivation and Appreciation for Writers: Implementation

Introduction | Part 1: What is this Relationship? | Part 2: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Readers | Part 3: A Day in the Life of… | Part 4: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Writers: Perspectives | Part 5: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Writers: Implementation | Part 6: How to Write the Best Feedback |  Part 7: Where Does This Leave Us?

Previously, I provided some perspective on why writers require feedback and a sense of appreciation. I believe fostering empathy for the writing process is vital in this relationship between readers and writers online, so understanding why it’s important is the first step. In this chapter, I would like to discuss the implementation of how to show your favorite writers appreciation and provide them motivation so they may continue to update the work that you so enjoy. I will mostly be focusing on feedback in the form of comments or reviews, but will mention a few other alternatives.

First, I’d like to provide a quick breakdown of why leaving feedback should matter to you:

1. It’s polite. It’s common courtesy. If someone took time out of their day to provide you with content you enjoy free of charge, then you should take a few minutes to show your gratitude. For more information on why, refer to Chapter 5: Motivation and Appreciation for Writers: Perspectives.

2. If anything, it can only help the writer — as such, this directly benefits you, the reader. Feedback is essential to the writing process. If writers do not receive feedback, they may not feel any incentive to continue writing or, at least, continue posting their work online.

3. This is your currency, your contribution to the online community. One-sided relationships are not healthy or productive. To maximize benefits for both parties, writers and readers, readers must also partake. For more information about currency, please refer to Chapter 2: What Is This Relationship?

With that said, let’s continue with things you can do for writers.

1. Leave feedback. This can come in the form of comments or reviews, notes, or even Facebook chats. The medium doesn’t matter so much, though I have heard from some writers that they prefer their feedback to all be in one place, not only for their reference, but also so that others may see it.

Nevertheless, feedback should be personal, specific, and thoughtful.

When constructing a comment, the content of what you write is important. This is your opportunity to show how much you appreciate and admire a writer’s work. You’ve probably heard of the age-old adage “quality over quantity,” and it applies here. Receiving a comment that says “Great! I love this!” or “I like this! Excited for next update!” is nice, but these comments don’t really tell the writer anything. For all they know, these comments could be copied and pasted from one source to the next — there isn’t any evidence in generic comments that readers have even read your work.

Think about something that you love, a hobby perhaps.

Let’s say you’re an artist, and two viewers leave comments on your work:

a) Pretty! Love seeing your work!

b) Oh, wow! Your art is breathtaking. I really love the vibrant colors you use to paint the background. Your characters always have the most expressive eyes — they’re like a portal to the soul. You clearly put a lot of love and effort into this, and it shows.

Which one would more likely motivate you to paint again? See what I mean?

Or, let’s assume that you’re a dancer. You have a performance, and two friends say:

a) That was great!

b) Your performance was amazing. I thought you were absolutely stunning in that dress, and your music selection is spot-on — it really matches your personality. I’d love the opportunity to see your next performance!

Which one would more likely give you warm fuzzies?

All options above took me less than a minute to type, which is far less time than a writer would spend on creating content for you. I encourage you to put yourself in the writer’s shoes when providing feedback. If all you provide are generic comments, do you think writers feel special at all?

How often should you leave feedback? Well, that depends. If the writer updates often, as in multiple times a week, perhaps a comment every other or every few chapters would suffice — I’m sure you are busy, to0, after all, and while I very much appreciate and enjoy reading all comments (they are always so nice to open my email to!), I don’t expect them every update. Then again, if you tend to leave shorter comments that take you no more than two or three minutes to compose, could it really hurt to brighten a writer’s day? If the writer updates less often, once per month, perhaps, then I think it’s good practice to leave a comment each time.

Consider this: I have a fuel tank for my inspiration when it comes to writing. I can run on a near-empty tank, but it’s difficult for me to do, and I struggle with creating content. It’s far easier for me to write and put out quality work when my inspiration tank is full. Every piece of feedback I receive fills it with a certain amount of inspiration.

A quick “Hey, this is really great! Every time you update, I get so giddy!” perhaps adds one measurement of inspiration.

A more detailed “Wow, I liked how you wrote [character name] in that scene — it was spot on! I feel like his personality is so hard to get right, but you really nailed that thought process. His interaction with [character name] really proves that he’s a lot softer than most people think he is!” perhaps adds three to four measurements of inspiration.

Then, a thoughtful “You know, I’m always so impressed with your depiction of [character name]. The cogs in his mind are always turning, and he’s so introspective. I felt that you captured his strategic disposition well here, and I’m eager to see how he’s going to use this newfound information to approach [character name]. I would think that he’d be a little more soft-spoken, though I’m also eager to see him kind of angry and protective. Looking forward to your next update! Your writing is always a treat to read!” could add ten measurements of inspiration.

Ultimately, readers should provide feedback as often as they’d like, knowing that each comment contributes to that inspirational fuel tank for their writers in varying degrees. If you want high quality, muse-filled updates, this feedback is absolutely essential to contributing to that process. This is why writers ask for feedback and are overjoyed to receive it — it is a precious resource that can only come from their dear readers.

One struggle I often hear from readers is that while they appreciate and enjoy my work, they don’t know what to say. But fear not! In the next chapter, I will go into detail on how to write these personal, specific, and thoughtful comments.

2. Leave likes, kudos, loves, whatever the medium of approval is. I would argue this is bare minimum, equivalent to a “Thank you. I like this.” If you received any amount of enjoyment from someone’s hard-wrought work, you owe them this. It is literally a click of the button and will take a fraction of a second.

I’ve seen notes from readers who say that they will never leave a kudo on AO3 content unless the work is finished. This thought process is asinine. I would compare this to you volunteering to help paint a friend’s house over a few days. You offer your labor free of charge, from the kindness of your heart, and your friend refuses to say thank you, buy you lunch, give you refreshments during the week. “I’ll only show you gratitude when you’re finished,” your friend says. This is toxic relationship. DO NOT do this. Give your writers the appreciation they deserve while they are hard at work, not just when they’ve finished. Do not be so emotionally deprived that you refuse to perform a simple task that can only make writers feel good about themselves and their work.

3. Bookmark, subscribe, and follow on social media. While this isn’t direct feedback, per se, each of these adds to a metric and can grant your favorite writer a following.

I normally wouldn’t say that bookmarks show appreciation because they’re more for the reader’s benefit that the writer’s, but I will say that I’ve seen some comments written on bookmarks on my works on AO3 that have really made me smile. Subscribing, again, is more for the benefit of the reader. However, adding to that number does denote a certain level of popularity for that piece of writing. Following your favorite writers on social media is much the same.

4. Fanart. If you are creatively minded, then perhaps you’d like to express your appreciation through artistic means. This goes without saying, but sending a writer a piece of art inspired by their work is flattering. 10/10 will give warm fuzzies. For me, I always welcome fanart and am thrilled to receive it.

5. Word of mouth and referrals. Market your writer’s content for them. You can tell your friends about it or recommend it via social media. It’s always wonderful to hear when new readers find and enjoy your work, and it’s the ultimate compliment, knowing that another reader referred them. If a writer has a Tumblr or Twitter, follow them and reblog or retweet their updates. I think this is a phenomenal way to show that you appreciate them and the hard work they put into their writing.

Of course, these are just a few ways for readers to express appreciation and motivate their favorite writers. If you have any other suggestions or practices, please feel free to leave a comment!

Next up is a tutorial on how to write quality comments. Stay tuned!

Also posted on AO3.

[yakuzacasual]

Not sure if asks are open, but I loved the wlw post thank you for doing it! Could you do another one where Saori and Mafayu’s fem s/o is jealous of Hoshino and Yagami ^^;;? Sorry for the bother again, and thanks!

PREFACE

Yes, hello. Surprisingly enough I am still alive and well, with my shit finally put together for a longer while. I’ve been ACHING to get back to this request since it’s so...... hngh... I’ve had it partly written and hanging ever since for the longest time and I am genuinely sorry for the wait, Non, but here it is and I loved every second of it. Thank you so much for letting me write that, stay cool!

With that I have also concluded all of the requests and will now open the box again. Please feel welcome to request anything you’d like! I am eager to still write more Judgment, but I will take this chance to inform, that I’ve finally finished all the Yakuza games available to me and am now ready to write some for their characters as well.

THE JUDGMENT GIRLS DEALING WITH THEIR JELLY GIRLFRIENDS

MAFUYU FUJI

Notices that something is afoot almost right away. Mafuyu made sure that she told you about her past relationship and current friendship with Yagami early on, because she sincerely hoped that both of you could get along. Much to her dismay, you’ve been looking at Yagami weirdly ever since the confession and while it doesn’t entirely ruin the mood, she starts feeling a bit antsy about having you both in one room.

Like the gentle person that she is, Mafuyu leads you away from the party and tries to cautiously get you to confess your worries. She doesn’t feel like it’s okay to step in just based on her own hunches, she needs to hear it from you directly! Mafuyu has her prosecutor and girlfriend ways to coax you into being honest, so while she won’t force you, she will offer some incentives.

When you finally decide to share your thoughts, she is still surprised despite having suspected jealousy all along. Maybe because now you’ve actually said it and it hits her hard, that the love of her life is… jealous of her long closed chapter with Yagami. How absolutely unacceptable! Mafuyu immediately feels like she may be responsible for it. Maybe she phrased it in a way that left you under the impression that she still has feelings for him? Maybe she didn’t make you feel loved enough and you started questioning her affections?

Wherever it is that you both stand, whether it’s a secluded spot with just the two of you or the middle of a busy street, Mafuyu starts proclaiming her love for you, putting a strong emphasis on the many ways in which you are her absolute goddess that she would never dare replace with a sweaty Yagami. And honestly, it’s kind of cute to see her so flustered over you, but you have to explain to her that it’s just not this simple.

And you know what they say about complex problems? They require innovative solutions, Mafuyu has got it covered! Get ready for some good old competition in your area of choice, because she is about to have her girlish dream of having suitors fight over her come true. Drinking, drone racing or a good old fistfight - it doesn’t matter, she’s going to be there to cheer you on every step of the way and let’s face it, Mafuyu is the absolute best cheerleader. Show them how girls do it, queen!

SAORI SHIROSAKI

Saori is quite perceptive about people she cares about and she would definitely realize that there is a problem, but not necessarily it’s source. See, she is the type of person who knows not of fear or jealousy, unless you deliberately try to stir up something. Which, by the way, is definitely not recommended. She puts a lot of faith in you and your relationship and expects the same treatment in return.

Never really introduced Hoshino as her ex-boyfriend. Past is in the past and there is no point in causing commotion over something so trivial, especially since it would most likely embarrass or make him uncomfortable. Instead, she just treats him as she always does and it’s up to her friends to, most likely accidentally, spill the tea about their former relationship.

Suffice to say, if you were ever in doubt before, hearing all of it second hand and by someone’s slip of a tongue more so than a genuine effort to inform you, now you have a definite basis to be jealous. After all, there had to be a good reason for Saori to hide that fact from you. And since she is such a straight-forward person, it must be a damn good one, too. Absolute bomb that can possibly put your whole absolutely perfect and loving relationship in jeopardy. 

As you come up with all kinds of disaster scenarios, your girlfriend can’t help but notice how you’re treating Hoshino differently all of the sudden. She would let it slide for a longer while, until it got particularly annoying or, god forbid, made you start to distance yourself from her. That would definitely be the last straw for Saori.

She demands answers and she demands them now. She’ll act like nothing is up for the entirety of the day just to hit you hard with questions and her signature furrowed brow when you least expect it.

No matter how you approach it, she does not like the answer. You may be snarky when you talk about it, you may be regretful, anxious or self depreciating, but the reaction is always the same. Saori is very angry. First at foremost at her acquaintances with loose tongues, but secondly at you for even thinking that she would ever consider anyone else in the romantic sense she has reserved strictly for you. How dare you give her love so little credit!

Saori will feel incredibly distant for the next few days and may even go as far as ghosting you at times. She is taking her time cooling down and considering her options in trying to mend the situation that at the end of the day feels at least a little bit like her fault. Finally she decides to confront the core of the problem! Saori takes you out on a meeting with her closest friends and even though all, or most of them, know you quite well, she makes it a point to reintroduce you loud and clear as the loveliest woman in the entire universe, as well as her beloved girlfriend - all while looking pointedly over at Hoshino. She may have also stated that should anyone of the males try their moves on you, she will make them pay, but Saori feverently denies that for the rest of her life.

[retrogeekgal]

Repeating Mistakes

Summary: John Constantine shows up at your door after breaking your heart two years ago. Needing help from someone he trusts, he can only turn to you. But like everything with him, the truth isn't black and white. And the secrets John's keeping from you this time, may cost you your life.

Word Count: 2.7k

John Constantine x Reader

Notes: Hello everyone! This is my first posted work, so please be kind!

This fic has all the tropes- hurt/comfort, dramatic confessions of love, possessive!John, protective!John, sassy!reader-- If you can think of it, I've probably got it here.

Please leave me all the notes and comments :)

I've read some comics but this is based off of Matt Ryan's incredible portrayal of our favorite chain smoking, hard-drinking British wise ass on Constantine and Legends of Tomorrow.

Enjoy!

Repeating Mistakes (archive of our own)

Chapter One.

The dense humidity makes your thick hair curl at the ends as you step in from the outside and take in the lavishly decorated lobby. For last minute accommodations, this hotel is excellent.

A kind doorman waits to greet you, readily assisting you with your bags. Your tired eyes scan the attached restaurant and are more than pleased to see a fully stocked twenty-four hour bar just steps from the entrance. You could happily make yourself at home here for some time once your work is finished.

Making your way down the long hallway to your room for the next few days, your thoughts drift to the events that led up to arriving here. After a particularly grueling possession in the midwest, you were looking forward to taking a few days to relax and recharge.

With your key in the door, the call came through about a cursed mirror in a plantation just outside of New Orleans. The client was wealthy too, wealthy enough to double your rate if you left straight away. Despite your exhaustion, you couldn't resist.

******************

“Ghosts bring in the money down here,'' the owner, William Moss, had drawled over the phone. “Tourists want to get spooked when they visit the old south, but this is different. Doors are slamming, we hear whispers when there ain't no one else around and the room freezes during the warmest parts of the day. It wasn’t like this before we found that mirror buried on the property. I figured it must've been two hundred years old, at least. A real antique to draw in the history buffs.

"It's got some bad juju and I, well I was told" he had hesitated slightly- you remembered that clearly, “you were just the talented young lady for the job. I was informed of the great love you have for New Orleans and its culture and your reputation clearly precedes you. You came highly recommended.”

For a moment you had thought to ask who’d given you the glowing recommendation, your suspicion ate at you, but the tone in his voice said you ought to put it aside. The more information he gave you, the more you knew these were the right things to say to get your attention. And so, as soon as your full cost was deposited into your account, you had booked a flight and were on your way to the Big Easy.

*******************

You made ghost stories and cursed objects your business, and business was booming. You had once worked alongside the greatest master of the dark arts in existence, and while he had viciously broken your heart, John Constantine had taught you well.

Thanks to his tutelage, your name was well known in the occult circles as a talented mage and dark object specialist. After your time with him, you had become skilled in both light and dark magic and had exorcized more than your fair share of things that went bump in the night. So being told you were highly recommended wasn’t an odd thing. Any hesitation to tell you who recommended you, was.

Pressing your keycard to the door, you absentmindedly touch the necklace you always wear and wonder for the second time in as many days if John was the reason you're here right now; he knew how you felt about New Orleans. The magical reserves that ran throughout the city were alluring to anyone who practiced the mystic arts.

You and John had spent many nights wandering the streets of the French Quarter, feeling the power flowing through the ancient city center. Even if everything here reminded you of your biggest mistake, it felt good to be back.

You found your suspicions running through your thoughts again. This case was a milk run for you, all the pieces fell into place too easily. All but one; John had made it very clear that he never wished to see you again; the idea of this being his doing after so long made your mind run in circles. It just wouldn’t make sense, but then, John didn’t always make sense. You’d made every attempt to convince yourself this was coincidence, pushing him from your mind as you have for so long.

Your charm and skill helped to secure work in an industry that couldn’t exactly advertise, thus you typically weren’t between jobs for very long, you knew these were facts. Perhaps you only thought it was him because of the flooding memories that came along with this city. You could have said no if you really wanted to, but you couldn't pass up the chance to visit your favorite place once again, even if this did smell like John's handiwork.

Ceasing all thoughts of the british bastard, you drop your bags and crash tiredly onto the pillow top mattress in your room. You lay there for just a moment and enjoy the cloud-like softness of the bedding. Taking a deep breath, you roll onto one side, propping your head up on your arm. Your rumbling stomach reminds you that food is necessary to live and you’ve consumed none. The humidity from outside still clings to you like a second skin so a shower is also on the menu. With a groan, you push yourself up the rest of the way. You reach for the phone and order a burger along with two bottles of local beer. Happily, you charge it to your room and gather your things to take a shower while waiting.

The elegance of the marble bathroom pleases you as flip the lights and survey the room.. A large whirlpool tub sits in the center of the room with an ornate glass shower to the left and a separate door to the right. You turn on the hot water to let the steam fill the room while you shrug off your clothes. The water soothes your tired body and while you wash off the grime of the day, you lean against the wet tiles to savor the relaxation of the moment.

Eventually you feel the hot water start to cool and figure your food should be arriving at any minute. After decidedly turning off the water, you reach for a fluffy, white towel and begin to methodically dry yourself off. As you step out of the bathroom, wrapped in a lovely plush robe, you hear footsteps and three sharp knocks. Right on time. Without another thought, you unlatch the door and throw it open.

Leaning against your doorframe, half cloaked in shadow, is a shock of messy blonde hair attached to a lanky male figure. The strong scent of cigarette smoke assaults you before you have a chance to drag your gaze up and meet coffee colored eyes that give you no hint of his intentions.

“Hello darling, I was hoping we could have a chat.”

It takes you a second longer than you know it should to fully process that the man who left you crying in a London airport two years ago, with nothing but a silly piece of jewelry and a broken heart is now leaning only a few inches from where you stand. Clad only in your hotel robe and rising anger, you realize that you should have known there’s no such things as coincidences.

Without waiting for permission, John Constantine pushes past you into the room and you slam the door behind him. Words fall out of your mouth before you have time to fully process them.

“Excuse me! You can’t just- ” His leisurely presence frustrates you further, causing you trip over what you're trying to say. The bastard is entirely too relaxed given what's happened between you. You attempt to take a steadying breath before unclenching your jaw and trying again. “Constantine, what are you doing here?”

John narrows his eyes slightly at the formality of his last name but wisely says nothing about it. Instead, he lowers his hands in a placating gesture and takes a step toward you.

"You have every right to want to kick me out the bloody door but I’m hoping to appeal to your sense of decency. I need a favor and believe it or not, you’re the only one I trust.”

You sharply exhale in disbelief but John continues, undeterred.

"I know what I said to you." He says slowly. "I know how bloody awful it all was. I had my reasons, but believe me luv, I wouldn’t be here right now if there was any other way. I know what it did to you when--”

You cut him off, quick and angry, before the logical side of your brain can reign you in. "When you left? You have no idea what it did to me!"

“I know, I'm… listen” he says, his voice low and determined. “I have a chance, a small one, to break into hell. There's just a few missing pieces. I had to hope that you’d hear me out to start and that with any luck, you kept that necklace I gave you.” He looks at you with mild incredulity once he sees it and flashes a crooked smile that you’re frustrated to find still makes you swoon.

You look at him for a moment, mindlessly your hand moves to touch the small pearlescent stone sitting between your collarbones. “Yes, I kept it.” your voice soft, barely above a whisper. You thoughts are swirling. Did he think you would have thrown it away? So many times you thought that you should have but every time you hovered the necklace above the trash, you just couldn't. You hated that you couldn’t. Why couldn’t you throw away a stupid piece of jewelry when he so easily threw you away?

"Sweetheart, if I could just,” his pause is all the incentive you need to cut in, this time your voice is more controlled than before but barely restraining the anger you feel.

“No. It's been two years. Two goddamn years Constantine.”

“John.” He says softly, leaning against an armchair, hands shoved in his pockets. “Come on, luv. It’s John. Don’t be like that, don’t be so cold ay?”

“Are you serious?” You scoff, folding your arms defensively against your chest. Memories of the last time you were with him surge forward unbidden, from the safe you’ve locked them away in and damn it, you can feel your eyes prick with tears at the edges. This is not happening. In the countless scenarios you’d thought of in the months following John leaving you, this was not how your fantasies of confrontation had gone.

"You broke my heart and didn't give a damn about it! Two years, John! For two years I've tried to push the thought of you out of my head because every time I couldn't, it'd break all over again! I hated you for what you did to me in that airport. HATED YOU. I hated you and I hated myself for still hoping you'd come back to me. God. John, I stopped hoping. I had to, but here you are, and what did you expect? I'd forget it all? That's not fair. You can't just... come back."

John casts his eyes away from you but says nothing. It seems you struck a nerve. Good.

“So yeah,” you laugh, “I get to be as cold as I damn well please. In fact, you’re lucky I haven’t hexed your ass yet. You know I damn well could.”

John folds his arms across his chest, defense mechanism mirroring yours. "I do, but I’m trusting that you won’t. You're a better person than I am, always have been.”

The intensity you find when you meet his dark eyes has an uncomfortable vulnerability but you refuse to turn away. “Just hear me out luv, and if after I’m done you still want to throw a curse at me? Fine. I deserve worse.”

John focuses on your face then and you feel shaken by what he's just said. When he speaks again, his voice is low and thick with an emotion you can't place. “You might think I’m an absolute bastard for what happened between us, but there are things out there that want to destroy me daily, and the people I care about tend to wind up dead or worse because of it. What do you think I would have done...” he stops and holds out a hand to you. It takes every ounce of your self control not to cross the few feet between you and take it. He slowly closes it and withdraws.

“You know the life I lead, you knew all the rubbish when you asked and I agreed to teach you.” The Brit laughs bitterly and drags that hand across his face. “ I prefer to walk this path alone and with good reason. I am sorry that I hurt you but I’m bloody well not apologizing for my reasons. If you’re going to hate me, hate me, but at least you’re still breathing.”

A brief knock at the door completely derails your shock and confusion at his words and you tear your eyes from his, remembering the food you ordered. "Shit. Room service. I’m not hungry anymore but it’s paid for so…”

After a moment, John strides to the door and opens it; his previous uncertainty replaced with a cocky grin. “Ello squire,” you hear him say as you grab clothes and head back into the bathroom.

****************

Your mind is racing as you slip a fitted tee over your head and pull on your jeans. One thing runs through your head over and over. What do you think I would’ve done? John didn’t often let words that hadn’t meant to be said out loud slip, but this time, you believed, he did. The thought of him reciprocating feelings, still, as he once had made your heart palpitate and left your stomach in knots. You couldn’t get your hopes up, you couldn’t think that way… but it was so hard not to.

Your hands are shaking slightly as you zip up your boots and you mentally curse yourself for letting him get under your skin like this, again. You knew you’d run into John eventually. This was a small line of work. You were both known in the same circles and had many of the same contacts. But you told yourself that when the day finally arrived and you crossed paths with him, you’d be prepared. Your abilities continued to grow without him and you’d have no problem showing John that his absence had had zero effect on your life.

But you weren’t. You weren’t prepared at all, not for this. This was an uneven footing on already rocky ground. Feelings you thought long buried were clawing their way to the surface faster than you could stop them. So much for moving on.

You want to be furious with John. Furious that he has the audacity to show his face here and ask for your help. Furious that there was obviously a bigger reason that he sent you away and he hadn’t trusted that you could handle it and furious that he thought that an explanation so simple was enough.

Yet you aren’t. You’re furious with yourself. Furious that after you had gotten over your initial shock, you were relieved to see John was safe and whole. Furious that he still had the power to disarm you with that crooked smile and make your heart skip when he said your name. Worst of all, you realize, you’re furious that you still love him. And in the end, you know that despite what he put you through- no matter what it is that John needs or what it will inevitably cost you, you're going to help him.