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foxtophat · 4 years

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(still trying to figure out how i link these but whatever)

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!! i decided to just sit down and hammer out the last edits for this lil one-shot so i could get it out today!

i’m gonna be real with you: the only reason i wrote this fic is because i couldn’t get the idea out of my head. you weren’t supposed to see mercyverse for another month, honestly!!! but it’s been cold as fuck here and it’s made me fantasize about classic bed-sharing tropes, and so here we are!

this is a bit of a slice of life, to sort of give an idea of how day-to-day these guys all interact, especially now that carmina doesn’t have to pretend john doesn’t exist. plus, i’m starting to see how the caches might be involved in the overarching plot???? awesome!!!

as usual, the full text is below the cut for my friends who don’t wanna leave tumblr. i hope you enjoy -- feel free to leave a comment, i loooove hearing from readers. likes and reblogs are also great! kudos are fantastic! adding to the hit counter is just fine by me!!! anything you do to show support for fanfic is a good thing imo. i hope y’all have a happy wintereenmas or whatever and i will see you guys in 2021 with more mercyverse :)

The best thing Nick can say about the blizzard currently sweeping the county is that he could see that it was coming. They'd gotten almost a foot of snow the night before, which gets him worried about getting snowed in, and as the day progresses, the sky grows an ominous gray that Nick recognizes from a lifetime of living in the area. He knows that they probably only have a few hours left before they're going to want to get inside and avoid the worst a winter storm has to offer.

Nick and John spend the entire morning hauling wood into the house, while Kim does her best to clean out the broken chimney and ensure they won't die of smoke inhalation. They also pull in some pre-made stock that Kim had left in the freezer after it had gotten cold enough to use, as well as a few smaller pieces for miscellaneous projects. But with the storm rolling in overhead, they don't have long; they end up leaving a lot of things for later as the wind whips up around them and turns the snow sideways.

By two in the afternoon, they've closed the doors to officially bunker down for the rest of the blizzard. They have enough wood to last them three days, plus their military rations and plenty of coffee, so Nick isn't particularly concerned about their safety. The only thing he's really got to contend with is boredom, which is easier to stave off in the first few hours of captivity than it is later in the evening.

For the most part, Nick passes the time by sharpening their knives, cleaning their guns, and checking the radio every hour for any emergencies. The blizzard ensures that not many people are on, but at least he gets to check in with Jerome and make sure that Grace is safely in her bunker. It's unlikely they'll get in contact with the trailer park until after the worst passes, but that just means Nick's gonna worry about those jackasses all night.

Kim is probably the only one comfortable with the downtime, making the most of things as she chews on the radio's instructions. When the technical jargon gets to be too much, she switches to entertaining Carmina, who gets bored quick when her only job is to keep the fire going. The easiest distraction comes from card games; the deck they'd had in the bunker had shrunk to only 32 cards, but now that they've got a full deck to work with, Carmina is eager to relearn and master games like Go Fish and Old Maid. Nick doubts Jacob planned to be entertaining kids with his survival gear, but it's not like the guy's gonna complain.

Carmina isn't the only one that Jacob is keeping busy beyond the grave. Ever since they found that cache of his, John has been borderline obsessed with figuring out what the point of it could be. He'll go all day without mentioning the puzzle plaguing him, but any available downtime has him staring at the map and its coordinates. Nick and Kim have both been keeping an eye on it, just in case it turns into something worse than his usual tunnel-vision, but so far it hasn't gotten out of hand. If anything, John seems more aware and alert now that he has something to focus on, and now Nick can even pretend he's a normal guy for conversations at a time before being reminded otherwise.

Of course, the blizzard's making it impossible to find alternate distractions. John does spend part of the afternoon in his room, but eventually, he can't help but come downstairs to mull over the map. There's only one problem with that — they've hung the map up in the radio room, so there's about ten minutes every hour where Nick has no choice but to sit in John's presence. It probably wouldn't bother him so much if there was somewhere else either of them could be, but they're stuck for the foreseeable future. John's looming is just going to be part of Nick's life until the storm passes.

In the interest of keeping the peace, Nick reluctantly tries to have the same level of interest in the random dots that John shows. His attention, however, is distracted by the penciled-in changes that he, Kim and John have all been making to the landscape. The river's wider in some places now, and there are doodles of trees in spaces that were once open fields. A few X's mark places where bridges have collapsed, and Kim's circled anywhere they've made radio contact with. Their notations have scattered across the valley, and have even spread over to the river region thanks to Hurk and his raider gang, but they still don't know anything about the mountains, or even the spaces that are supposedly occupied by bow-wielding religious nutjobs. It's going to be a while before any of them get the nerve to go poking that particular hornet's nest.

John has his little notebook open, but he's not writing anything down. Nick's not sure what he would even put down, since they haven't gotten any more leads since early autumn, but he's always got the thing tucked in a pocket nowadays. Maybe Nick should be mad he outright stole that resource from the rest of them, but — well, come on. He can't yell at the man for taking up journaling, not without flying in the face of every therapist Nick had pretended not to listen to. It's just... well, what the hell is there for him to write down?

"Are you staring for any particular reason?" John asks, because of course he does.

"That's rich, coming from the guy lurking over my shoulder all day." Nick flips off the static-ridden radio frequency, leaning back in his chair so that he can get a better look at the map push-pinned to the wall. "I hear if you look at it just right, you can see a sailboat."

John's clearly not much of a Kevin Smith fan, because he only sighs heavily at Nick's flat joke. "If you have something better for me to be doing, I'm all ears," he says, revealing to Nick at last just how bored he really is. Weirdly enough, being in the same boat as John is somehow reassuring.

"Okay, fine. At least tell me what you're staring at, so I know what to fake interest in."

Even though it's mostly a joke, it lands softly enough that John doesn't take offense. Stuffing the notebook in his back pocket, he shakes his head, gesturing at the map. Getting John to explain himself is usually like pulling teeth, but right now he seems relieved to have someone to bounce his thoughts off of. It's a long way away from the guy Nick remembers saving, enough so that it almost catches his full interest.

"It's nothing in particular, really. I've already spent hours staring at this thing, but I'm... still looking for a pattern, I guess. Jacob was paranoid and secretive, but if there's a hidden code buried in these coordinates, it's beyond me to see it. And the snow was already keeping us from traveling too far — now with this blizzard, we're likely stuck with no new information until spring ..."

John sighs, rubbing his forehead as the pretense finally abandons him. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do until then."

That's certainly a feeling that Nick can relate to. Nick is less of a workaholic than John might be, but that doesn't mean he won't go stir-crazy without his own set of chores. Hell, that's why he's been hanging around the radio in between games of cards with the girls and cleaning whatever he can get his hands on. It must suck extra for John; the guy's been spinning his tires in the dirt for years, probably, and being this close to having a purpose beyond doing whatever chores Nick sets him to must be irritating.

Nick props one leg up against the wall, tapping his boot against the wood as he ponders the dots scattered around the map. There are a few still in the valley, but there's no driving until they thaw out. The points in the mountains are probably inaccessible to anybody, and who knows when they'll get to investigate the old vet center or find the Wolf's Den. There are a couple points nearer the trailer park, though, and not for the first time Nick tries to measure the distance from Hurk to the various red dots. There's one near the lumber mill, and one near where that godawful statue was, and of course one right smack dab in the middle of the original Peggy compound.

Nick can't imagine his truck making it all the way there and back, not without more information about the roads. Hurk might not have the same trouble. "I could send the trailer park a couple coordinates," he points out. "They might get to search before us, and it could cut the work in half."

Despite John's scowl, he only sounds tired as he replies, "I've considered it, but I don't trust them. Then again, I hardly trust myself, so who knows."

"I guess you're shit outta luck, then," Nick says. John takes obvious offense at Nick brushing him off, but hey, what else is Nick supposed to do? "God's giving you a freebie with this blizzard. Maybe you should try catching up on your sleep, or something."

"And ruin the precarious schedule I'm keeping?"

"Jesus, then go read a book! Just — you know, quit hovering over me all day. Don't you know how to entertain yourself?"

John seems unphased by Nick's half-hearted outburst. "This is how I entertain myself. Maps, resources, legal documents — that's probably the only decent outlet I've ever had." He stares at Nick's boot, unwilling to meet his eyes. "At least, it's the only one healthy enough to keep."

That is probably a safe bet, Nick realizes, quickly trying to backpedal away from the open scab that is John's history. "Uh, well, what about before the cult?"

John surprises them both with a brief laugh. "If I could source some coke, then yes, I would be entertained."

"Jesus, John."

"I'm not known for my healthy self-care habits," John points out, a little too smug to be truly self-deprecating. At least he seems to understand what Nick had been getting at originally, deferring with a vague hand-wave. "Is my loitering in the kitchen going to be too smothering for you, too, or is that okay?"

Nick rolls his eyes, flipping the radio back on to scan the channels once again. "It's fine, whatever. Just as long as you've got something better to entertain yourself than snaking the whiskey Jacob left."

"I'm more of a gin guy," John admits.

"Of course you are."

It's still a relief, though, knowing they aren't keeping an alcoholic too near his fix. On top of that, John's relaxed disregard for his past vices settles nerves Nick hadn't even realized were rattled. Sure, there's probably a whole other box of American Psycho- esque worms waiting to be opened up from John's time before Eden's Gate, but at least he seems to have comfortably packed that part of his life away for now. Unlike talking about the cult, John has no trouble dropping the conversation, just as casually as he'd brought it up. He retreats into the kitchen to mull over whatever he's written down already, leaving behind no traumatic story or sad-eyed stare — just the casual admission that he would really like to do some drugs.

Weirdly enough, that is probably the most respectable thing about John to date.

Nick spends another fifteen minutes checking the radio, scanning the channels he knows people use most. He winds up with nothing to show for it — either the storm is making radio communication impossible, or everybody else has given up on their radios. It's only after he's cleared the range twice that he flips the radio off and escapes back to Kim and Carmina, leaving John in the kitchen with a broad, somehow-sarcastic gesture towards the now unoccupied radio nook.

Carmina ropes Nick into a game of Go Fish, which Kim seems keen on losing. Nick isn't surprised — Carmina is a wily player, which is to say that she tries to bluff her way through hands with all the grace of a sledgehammer. Kim's not as willing to put up with cheating as Nick is, but neither of them are capable of even pretending to believe Carmina's poker face. It's going to be a problem one day, but Nick isn't exactly ready to teach his daughter how to lie to his face.

Well, that is until she and Nick are on their third round of Go Fish, and Nick has had to pretend not to see through all of Carmina's gambits.

He asks her if she has any threes, and she scrunches her nose up as she glances meaningfully at her cards. "Go fish," she says, making Nick regret not having Kim sit right behind their daughter as a referee.

"Fine," he grumbles, "If you say so."

Kim blinks skeptically at the pants she's fixing, but she doesn't offer Nick any out. If it weren't for his clumsy hands, maybe he could use darning socks and patching shirts as an excuse to quit playing, but as it stands, the only thing he has other than getting trounced is staring at the map with John. And since he already tried that and found it to be mildly aggravating at best...

"You know, this would be more fun with more people," Nick says, desperately glancing at Kim.

Kim, of course, gives him no quarter. "Why don't you ask John," she suggests rhetorically.

"John," Carmina calls out, "Do you wanna play Go Fish?"

Nick opens his mouth to chastise Carmina, but he realizes there's nothing to discipline her for. Especially not when John flippantly replies, "I think your father's looking to play with fewer cheaters, not more."

"I'm not cheating!" Carmina exclaims, not-so-surreptitiously pressing her cards into her lap to ensure nobody's looking at them. Between that and her guiltily furrowed brow, there's no hiding it. Her poker face needs a lot of work.

"Go Fish isn't even worth cheating at," Nick sighs, gesturing for her cards. "If that's the way you wanna play, at least do it the right way. Here, gimme your cards — John, come over here so I can teach my daughter how to lie to your face."

As if playing a game of cards with John wasn't enough to excite Carmina, she's doubly over the moon when he tells her the rules. After all, a ten-year-old girl is the prime demographic for the game Bullshit, especially when she's given carte blanche to shout cuss words at her dad. On top of that, it seems like bluffing really is half of the fun for his daughter — which is a little intimidating, sure, but at least he knows she's smart enough to understand the utility of lying.

John is... unenthusiastic, to say the least, but that only makes the prospect of humiliating him that much better. A few weeks ago, Nick would've thought John was too fragile to be messed with, but now there's a bounce in his step that will make taking him down easier. He's got to do something to remind himself that this nearly-tolerable man is usually a miserable sonofabitch.

Unfortunately, John has a fantastic poker face. Nick figured that from the get-go, but it's still daunting to play against a bored, uninterested party. That's probably why Carmina avoids John in favor of hounding Nick, calling out "bullshit!" with delightful glee whenever she thinks Nick has dropped the wrong face card or played a nine instead of a King. On the one hand, Nick appreciates that he can read her as well as she can, but on the other hand, he'd really like a chance to beat John. So far, he's the only one who's called John out, and all he has to show for it is the extra six cards in his hand.

Although Kim is on standby for this round, she keeps flashing Nick amused grins whenever Carmina calls bullshit. Nick almost hopes John can hold it together to be mundane for two entire rounds of cards because he wouldn't stand a chance against Kim.

Case in point, John lays down two cards that are meant to be threes, and Kim clicks her tongue disapprovingly. Carmina frowns up at her mom, who only shrugs and suggests, "I would call him out, if I were you."

John's neutral frown doesn't change. "Last I checked, you weren't playing," he says.

Kim only shrugs in response. Nick furrows his brow at Kim while Carmina squints suspiciously from the discard pile to John and then back again. Of course, encouraging a ten-year-old to swear is always going to win out, and so Carmina wrinkles her nose and calls John out with a slightly uncertain, "Okay, bullshit."

Without so much as a grimace of defeat, John lets Carmina flip his played cards — one three, and one dirty, rotten, lying, bullshit seven .

"That's what I thought," Kim says, flippantly triumphant. "Guess you're not as hard to read as you thought."

Nick sure can't tell what John's thinking as he lifts one shoulder noncommittally. "I stand corrected."

"Wait," Nick asks, "What gave it away?"

"I'm not helping you too , Nick," Kim laughs. "That wouldn't be fair."

"It's not exactly fair to help Carmina," John points out. Nick bets he's just as interested in what tell Kim noticed, although he manages to be less obvious about it. At least he can't crack Kim's smug smile any better than Nick, which is some small compensation.

Nick manages to win this hand, if only because his play strategy involves lying as little as possible. That seems to work against Carmina no problem, but Nick suspects John threw the game out of personal disinterest. If it weren't for the howling winds whistling through the roof and second story, John would probably excuse himself from another hand by retreating upstairs, but as it is he manages to sit through one more round of cards, this time with Kim joining in.

Carmina's poker-face doesn't improve by leaps and bounds, exactly, but she manages to fool Nick into picking up a fat stack of cards, so that's something. Too bad he'd been trying to teach her to lie to John , not her parents. Well — at least she's a nice enough kid to only do it for fun. He hopes, anyway.

Kim makes John's loss look more organic, at least, and she doesn't rub it in too badly when she wins. It's extra kind of her considering Nick is the one who called her last play bullshit, leaving him to rot in miserable third place after both his girls. Well, fine . At least Carmina seemed to have fun, even if Nick is now sitting with nearly half a deck in his hands. If the blizzard keeps up for too long, they might have to graduate to poker.

Before they can play any more card games, though, they take time out for dinner. It's almost normal, sitting around the fireplace with their military rations and some hot broth — if they were eating Marie Calendar pot-pies and watching Christmas movies, Nick would even be able to ignore John's presence sticking out like a sore thumb.

The next best thing to watching movies is talking about them, which has become something of a tradition between the Ryes. It all started in the bunker, where Kim and Nick ran out of normal Christmas stories and began taking turns narrating whatever holiday movies they could remember. They've run through all the memorable Rankin & Bass flicks, as well as a couple more contemporary ones, so they're starting to reach for their personal favorites or the very bottom of the barrel plots.

Nick intends to be paying Jingle All the Way a tribute tonight, but as soon as he mentions that the Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle is one of his favorites, he's interrupted by John snorting derisively.

"Let me guess," Nick snaps, "You're one of those jackasses who pretends Die Hard is a legitimate Christmas movie just so he doesn't have to watch good, family-friendly content."

"It is a legitimate Christmas movie," John responds, just petulantly enough to tell Nick he hit the nail on the head.

"Look, Kim and I have already had this discussion — just because it takes place during Christmas doesn't make it a Christmas movie . Set dressing alone isn't enough!"

John raises his eyes towards the ceiling, which is as subtle as his eyerolls can get. "Whatever you say, Nick."

"What's Die Hard about?" Carmina asks, excitedly guessing, "Does Santa get to shoot people in it?"

"That would be a good Christmas movie," Nick replies. "No, it's just about some guy who has to fight bad guys in a building."

"During Christmas," Kim points out.

"Okay, fine during Christmas. But nobody's dressed up like Santa, nobody sings any carols, and there sure as hell isn't any Christmas magic that saves the day, so it doesn't count!"

"So what does happen?" Carmina asks.

Damn it — Nick should have known that talking about an action flick would immediately disinterest her towards any sloppy story about consumerism. She doesn't even know what a mall is — but she knows how to shoot a handgun, and now that Nick's thinking about it, she might need to use the duct-tape shoulder holster trick one day. It would be pretty bad-ass if she knew how, anyway.

"Okay, fine, I'll do it real quick. I don't remember all the parts, so Kim, you gotta help."

Real quick turns out to take almost as much time as the movie itself had. Kim interjects whenever Nick forgets a plot point, but at least he remembers the core conflict. Sort of, anyway — by the time he's done recounting John McClane's tale, John looks visibly dissatisfied, and Kim has a "well, sort of" expression on her face that implies he didn't quite nail the execution. Well, who cares what they think? All that matters is that Carmina is entertained, and of course she is. After all, narrated or not, it's still Die Hard . Just so long as she doesn't ask about the sequels, they should be okay.

The wind is still whipping overhead, and Nick can see nothing beyond the windows. There's no telling how late it's gotten. Although his internal clock insists it can't have been that long since sundown, Carmina has been yawning for a while now, and the fire's gone down again. It looks like sleeping through the storm is the only pastime left for Nick to try.

Carmina takes over stoking the fire for the final time before bed, while Kim makes her way upstairs to gather as much of their bedding as she can carry. John follows reluctantly behind, clearly unhappy with the prospect of facing his own cold room, but Nick figures he can deal for five damn minutes. For his part, Nick busies himself checking the radio one last time, just in case there's an emergency. He doesn't know what they'd be able to do if there was one, but that doesn't stop him from checking anyway.

With the radio situated just under the stairs, it's easy to listen in to Kim stomping around in the room above, desperate to keep her temperature up. Nick had put off too many attic repairs before this winter — he's going to have to make up for that in spring, when he and John can worm their way into the rafters and ensure that their next winter won't turn the bedrooms into a cold wasteland. Of course, even if they did patch up the gaps in the floorboards and do their best to insulate the attic, not much can beat a genuine fire in the middle of a snowstorm.

Nick isn't even paying attention to the radio, so he flips it off and trusts that everyone can keep themselves safe for another night. He hears the whump of fabric as Kim tosses their two biggest, least moldy blankets down for Carmina to start with, and the creak of footsteps on the landing overhead. Kim's voice isn't raised, but it carries down to Nick clear as a bell.

"John, you'll freeze if you stay up here," she says. "Get your stuff and come downstairs."

"It's not that cold," John says, attempting to deflect from one weak excuse with another. "I doubt Nick approved that suggestion."

Well, not technically, no, but Nick had sort of assumed they were already all on the same page. What does John think Nick's gonna do, force him to freeze upstairs so he can hog the fireplace all to himself?

Kim doesn't give the excuses a chance to breathe, replying with parental exasperation. "He and I both agree it's too cold to sleep upstairs." Nick can hear the teasing plain as day when she adds, "Just don't be weird about it."

Sure enough, suggesting John might be making things awkward is enough to get him to shut up and follow orders. Nick briefly longs for the days when John would mutely nod and do as told without any additional goading, but only for a second. Even that is long enough retrospection to remind Nick of how creepy and genuinely alarming it had been. Sure, John might get argumentative or exasperated now, but at least there's an actual person to communicate with. Nick might want to kick his ass more now than before, but he absolutely hated dealing with the hollow-eyed monster John had been.

Besides, it's way more satisfying being a dick to him now that he actually gets offended.

Despite John's furrowed-brow glares, Nick doesn't comment whatsoever on him trailing downstairs after Kim, clutching two actual blankets and a tarp that's weather-worn enough to pass muster. He stands and waits for someone to point him in the right direction as Kim and Carmina do their best to bundle together a soft place on the floor, but Nick studiously ignores him until he makes a decision himself. John takes a spot close to the fireplace, off to the right of where the girls are setting up. It's still plenty removed enough, so that nobody will get the wrong idea and think John is supposed to be welcome down here. Nick wonders who he's trying to convince, but there are so many damn demons in the man's head, it's anybody's guess.

With the fire roaring for the last time that night, all the blankets arranged and everybody looking exhausted despite not doing anything all day, Nick finally gets to crawl into bed and put this whole goddamn blizzard behind him. Hopefully, the weather has the common sense to clear up tomorrow — for now, it's time to shut out the cold entirely.

He must be tired. Nick barely stays conscious as Kim and Carmina climb under the blankets, the cool air rapidly warming as they begin to shift around and get comfortable. He rouses a few times at first as Carmina kicks his leg and Kim bumps into him, but eventually, he finds himself dozing in the silence of a quiet house. Far above them, the wind is whipping through the attic, but from down here, it sounds like a generic white-noise machine; coupled with the crackling fire, Nick is lulled to sleep by the sounds of peaceful normalcy.

Who knows how long it is before Nick finds himself conscious again. Even then, he only wakes enough to hear the dying fire popping by his feet. Maybe he should stoke it. But that would mean moving, and Nick is weighted down on either side beneath warm blankets, so that's a hard no. He tries first to roll towards Kim and Carmina, ready to curl into a ball and conserve even more heat, but his right arm is stuck. It takes a few bleary-eyed blinks to realize what's pinned him down, but he's barely coherent enough to make sense of it.

Sometime in the night, John must've migrated from the no-man's-land he'd made for himself towards the Rye's pile of blankets. Unsurprising, really — but more than a little awkward, given how he's pressed into Nick's side, pinning Nick's arm in place. Worse yet, half of his blankets have been absorbed into the mess that Nick's been using to keep warm, which is going to make extracting himself tricky if not impossible.

While he tries to figure out how to avoid making this mortifying situation worse, Nick watches John for any signs of consciousness. The guy usually sleeps light, but Nick watches his breathing for a solid minute and doesn't catch anything. Either his poker-face is just that good, or John is actually asleep. Deeply, peacefully asleep. Nick had assumed that was impossible.

If Nick were a better person, he'd probably be thankful to see it. Glad to know that John's insomnia might finally be coming to an end. But Nick is mostly just an exhausted, anxious mess, and now he's just wondering how to get out of the situation he's found himself in.

John shifts, and like a guilty ten-year-old, Nick immediately closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep. If he's lucky, John will roll away of his own volition, or at least move enough to let Nick roll over himself. If only he'd decided to sleep on Kim's side — she wouldn't have the same trouble Nick has. She'd just kick him away and be done with it.

Slowly, John moves away from Nick. The relief is short-lived as John pulls back the covers enough to send a cold chill down Nick's side; it's a split-second decision that John immediately regrets, hissing under his breath and letting the blankets fall back into place as he recoils from the freezing temperatures.

Nick can't help his quiet huff of amusement — which is enough to break the illusion that he'd been asleep in the first place. He could probably still fake it, but if he does, John will definitely try to move his blankets, and that is going to be a much bigger problem than tolerating John in his personal space.

"Quit squirming so much," Nick mutters. "Gonna let in the cold."

John is silent and tense beside him, but he does stop squirming. It's like lying near a tense bar of iron. After a brief struggle to figure out what to say, John's embarrassment catches in his voice as he apologizes. "I'm sorry," he rasps. "I — must have been tired."

Nick sighs. "Just don't crush my arm again."

Even though John moves as though Nick threatened him, he stops short of retreating from the blankets entirely. Nick can only imagine how cold it must be — every breath of his that makes it above the blanket-line comes with a faint puff of visible air. No matter how humiliating it might be to cuddle up to Nick, it doesn't seem like John had much of a choice in the matter.

Before John can decide to try escaping again, Nick repeats, "Whatever you do, don't let in the cold."

In for a penny, Nick decides, worming deeper into the makeshift bed so that John can have more room. Rolling over is the easiest way to avoid the mortifying process of finding a comfortable sleeping arrangement. Eventually, they wind up back-to-back; Nick normally wouldn't be able to stand John touching him, but the additional body-heat does a lot to soothe Nick's reservations. Who knew all he needed to tolerate John's physical presence would be cold weather and exhaustion?

The Deputy, probably, which only makes Nick grin in tired relief. At least they would be glad to know that Nick's grown as a person. They'd probably be glad to learn he's finally gotten on-board with not murdering the Seeds in cold blood — even if it took an apocalypse to get there. If they could see the shit he's gotten himself into now, they'd probably...

He sighs. It must be a heavier sound than he imagined, because John whispers, "What?"

"Nothing," Nick says immediately, as default an answer as John's yeses are. But that's not fair, he doesn't think, because they never let John get away with his obvious deflections. As late as it is, it's easy to blame his guilt on his exhaustion. "Just thinking about Rook," he admits.

"Oh."

John is clearly uncomfortable with the topic, but he doesn't react when Nick continues sleepily, "They'd get a kick outta this, is all."

John hums. It's a quiet noise, but Nick can feel it vibrate through John's shirt. If there are two people Nick hates bringing Rook up around, it's Sharky and John. Sure, Sharky's crush was the one that was reciprocated, but Dep had always treated John's flat-footed overtures like creepy compliments instead of outright threats. They'd probably figured John's crush was superficial, whereas Sharky's had been more real than probably anything else Nick had seen the poor sap go through. John's infatuation had been about power, control, and Joseph goddamn Seed. Still, Nick can't help but wonder just how much of it might've been real to John at the time.

"They had a bad sense of humor," John finally responds, quietly enough that Nick almost misses the hurt.

"Terrible," Nick agrees.

When John sighs, Nick recognizes it as a sign of defeat. Whatever he's debating with himself, he's clearly lost. Although he doesn't speak up again, Nick isn't sure he's gone back to sleep. He sure hopes he didn't just instill another restless night in the guy, but that's John's burden to bear. Maybe he can use it to finally find some common ground with Sharky.

Nick isn't even sure that he can fall back asleep, but that doesn't seem to matter. Before he knows it, he's being woken up once more — this time by a glance of sunlight coming in through the upper part of the windows. It's just enough light to wake him, but he spends an exhausted minute staring at the wall over Kim's shoulder as he debates whether or not he's really committing this time. He's going to need to use the bathroom sooner or later — and just thinking that is enough to tell Nick that he's not getting back to sleep again.

John's back is still facing Nick, and Kim rolls away as soon as Nick starts to squirm, which leaves his path to escape much more open than it was a few hours ago. He manages to pull himself free without waking anyone else, but as soon as he does, John worms into the warm spot left behind. Nick should probably be upset, but mostly he just needs to pee. He can kick John out of his spot after he takes care of himself.

Nick leaves the rest of them to sleep as he tiptoes across the living room to the front door. Unfortunately, the door only wedges open an inch before it hits a wall of snow. Unwilling to wake anyone else up with catastrophic noise, Nick heads upstairs, going for the broken window in John's room. It's freezing up here, cold enough to keep meat until spring, and Nick pulls his flannel closer as he crosses the room, trying not to take too much stock of his surroundings. He doesn't care about the tallies John used to carve in the wall by his bed, and he definitely doesn't care to snoop through the pile of clothes that John's been growing in the corner. What he does care about is how easy it is to crawl out onto the roof from the window — after all, this isn't the first time Nick's been snowed in, and he's made escaping his childhood home an art-form.

There's a good three and a half feet of snow on the ground below, blocking any exit from the first floor. At least the gray sky above is calm, and the weather seems to have calmed down some. They'll have to prepare for another couple of inches before the week's out, but Nick bets the worst of it is over. Now he can think about breakfast — more specifically, coffee — and debate the best way to clear the doorways. They need a path out to the hangar, although they can wait another day or two before they'll need to press the matter. Nick's still convinced there's a set of tire chains hiding away in there, but it's not like the roads will be in any condition to drive on for a while yet...

Nick spends so much time thinking about what he's got to do, he forgets to consider how willing the rest of the house will be to pitch in. The top-of-the-snow sunlight isn't enough heat to make up for the lack of a fire, and getting Kim out from under the blankets is gonna be like pulling teeth until he does something about it. Worse yet, John's rolled into the spot Nick had occupied — not exactly sprawled out, or anything, but the guy is irritatingly close to Kim's sleeping back. If he decided to roll one more time, he'd probably end up smacking his face into her shoulder.

Nick considers throwing a fit on principle, but honestly, that's too much work. It's much easier to sulk, glowering at the bed he's definitely not getting back into before getting some logs to stack in the fire. He drops them noisily by John's feet, although he makes every effort not to accidentally pull a Misery on the guy.

The sound of hollow wood clattering on the ground is enough to stir John, who wakes with a sharp inhale, and cause Carmina to groan and turn away from the noise. Kim has probably been awake for a while now, but it won't make a lick of difference until the fire's on.

He turns away to toss the logs semi-haphazardly into the fireplace, then remembers the kindling and turns to get it. John has propped himself on his elbows, but his half-waking confusion causes him to overlook Nick entirely as he stares around the room. Seeing Kim and Carmina asleep next to him is initially met with confusion. He barely seems to recognize the shapes bundled in the blankets, but when he does he recoils in shock. All the nasty comments Nick had thought up take an abrupt backseat as he stops to marvel at the physical repulsion John shows. He's not sure if he should be offended or not. Probably not, but this apocalypse has got Nick wired all wrong.

"She's not gonna bite," Nick says. John whips his attention back to Nick the moment he raises his voice, only for Nick to realize that looming over the guy with a thick block of wood in hand might send the wrong message.

Sure enough, John catches sight of him, jerking back with a startled hiss. " Jesus !"

"Shit, sorry." Nick turns and drops the log, wincing at the noise that he'd moments ago been deliberately making. "Well, judging from that reaction, looks like this isn't the first time a man's caught you in bed with his wife."

John's withering glare is enough to lift Nick's mood right up. He turns his attention back to starting the fire, listening as John slowly shifts his way free of the blankets. Part of him wants to make a few more jokes at John's expense, but that can wait until John's coherent enough to be snide in return.

Nick gets the fire going and turns to follow John, who's made his way into the kitchen to peer out the window. "Completely snowed in," Nick tells him as he gets the instant coffee and the beat-up kettle. "But it looks like the worst of it's over."

"Seems to be," John agrees, adding, "We forgot the shovels in the truck. It's going to be difficult digging them out now."

"Not a lot of other options, unless you wanna stay inside until the big thaw. Don't worry, I'm sure Carmina will be excited to help us dig."

John hums in assent, although his mind seems to be somewhere else. Nick can't help but notice that John's pensive states seem damned near reasonable nowadays. He has plenty to think about, and he seems to be keeping one foot in the here-and-now. He's aware enough of his surroundings that he stops Nick before he can leave John to it.

He tries to stare Nick down, but he can't quite manage it. "Thank you for not..."

John gestures vaguely as the rest of the sentence fails to generate. Nick could probably wait it out, but he's just as embarrassed as John apparently is, and he would rather move past the whole thing.

"Don't worry about it," Nick says. "Just don't get too comfortable cuddling up to me."

Rolling his eyes doesn't hide John's faint smile, but he turns away before Nick can see if it lasts. "That won't be a problem, trust me."

Nick is surprised that he does, even for something as small and inconsequential as a joke. "Grab the mugs when you're done looking for Santa," he says, turning back for the warmth of the fire. A few months ago, Nick might've resented how eroded the line has become between John and his own family, but it's honestly too much work to keep up. At a certain point, they're just going to have to include John in their daily routines — Nick just hadn't expected that point to be made by sharing blankets during a blizzard.

Well, there's one good thing about that, Nick supposes — it means that somewhere up there, the Deputy is watching over them. After all, there's no way in hell random chance has the same shitty sense of humor as Rook had.

#fcnd #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #christmas fic #mercyverse #my fic #i don't even use that tag any more wtf??? whatever #love you guys have a safe holiday <3

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ahiddenpath · 4 years

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Fanfic Authors Tag Game

I was tagged by @tottwritesfanfic, thank you!

AO3 name(s): I’m ahiddenpath on both FF.net and AO3 Fandoms: Digimon. That’s it xD Number of fics: Uh... 12. But they range in length from 2,000 to over 400,000 words x_x

I’ll throw the questions below the cut!

1. Fic I spent the most time on:

I’d guess Growing Up with You, since it’s the longest.

2. Fic I spent the least time on:

Definitely So You Were Alive, which I wrote and posted in under two hours. I had a brain itch and just wanted to scratch it, stat xD

3. Longest fic: 4. Shortest fic:

See above xD

5. Most hits:

Oh, uh... Let me check my FF legacy stats. Okay, it’s Growing Up with You, which makes sense, as it has the most chapters.

6. Most kudos:

Oh hmm :/ Sadly, I didn’t start posting on AO3 until much later than FF.net, and it only has a few of my stories (due to FF.net blocking the story port option). After August has the most.

7. Most comment threads:

Four Years has the most reviews! Man, I miss my readers for that one.

8. Favorite fic I wrote:

Auuughhh hmm... I think After August is my “best” story, somehow? It explores trauma from different perspectives, and I learned a lot from it and hashed out some of my own thoughts and feelings on the subject. From a technical stance, it’s one of the few stories I’ve written with a plan for every chapter from the start and a single, focused theme. I think it’s really impressive and heartfelt and just...

But that doesn’t mean it’s my favorite? Like, it’s a heavy story, naturally, and I’m often not in the mood for it.

I know that Growing Up with You was... emotionally important to some readers? It ran about 423K words from 2012-2017, so a lot of the readers actually... did... grow up with it! I’ll still receive the odd message from someone saying something like, “I READ THIS IN MIDDLE SCHOOL AND NOW I’M READING IT AGAIN IN COLLEGE IT’S LIKE COMING HOME” and then... I cry? Or they’ll run into Eimi again in another story and be like, “IT’S EIMI, I REMEMBER HER FROM MIDDLE SCHOOL,” and it’s just a torrential downpour of feels on my end.

I don’t know why people love this one so much... Maybe it’s a mixture of the length and the run time + how earnest I was while writing it? My early writing under this pen name was... NOT Pacha meme-able... But I was going through a lot and trying to figure things out with a story, and I think maybe people felt that and responded to it? Like, GUWY is a mess, but it’s... An honest, earnest mess.

But my personal fave stories these days are about the Chosen as adults, so I gotta throw Seeking Resonance a nod!

9. Fic you want to re-write:

Augh, Growing Up with You. I started it in 2012 and didn’t see the Japanese subbed until... I dunno, 2014 or 2015, when I was already like 200-300K in. It’s a nightmare! The Chosen ages are wrong, the honorifics, forget it, it’s got that awful “Japanese human names + English digimon names” mess...

And then, at some point, I watched the Japanese sub on Netflix and made a story bible for it, and it was fine. But there was a lot of not fine before that, lol! And that’s all before I get into actual editing and changes I’d like to make!

The trouble with rewrites is that, as long as you are writing, you’ll improve. That means that you might want to rewrite everything again in six more years. That makes me wonder if it’s worth it to go back, or if I’m better served by producing new things and seeing how far I’ve come.

10. Share bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on:

Oh oh oh! I have a page on my blog devoted to future story ideas! I don’t know if pages work on mobile, though.

And that’s all! Uhhh please feel free to send asks if you have any questions about my fanfics and writing (either existing or upcoming)!

I am contractually obligated to tag, so I’ll tag people who I know write fanfics: @fizzingwizard @firstagent @skuag But please don’t feel pressured!

#fanfiction meme #fanfic meme #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

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nativemossy · 5 years

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Cap-IM Rec Week 2019 - Wednesday

Rec Week- Angsty Wednesday @cap-ironman

Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments for your hardworking authors! they deserve the credit for the hard work they put into entertaining us with their fabulous works of art!

disclaimer: i genuinely struggle with the difference between angst and h/c, so the way i’m differentiating those lists is (mostly) by what the author tagged.

the stillness of forgetting - by nasa

“Who are you?” Tony asks every morning when he wakes up and finds Steve lying next to him.

“I’m your husband,” Steve always replies.

aka Tony has Alzheimer's.

why rec?: ouchie, this one makes me cry a lot, so I don’t read it often. memory loss fics really get to me, so if thats something youre interested in this has it in stock! its so heartrendingly sweet and i just love it a lot

Orbital Mechanics - by Sabrecmc

Freshly out of the ice, Captain Steve Rogers definitely does not want to Bond with anyone. Until he does.

(Steve's POV for Celestial Navigation)

why rec?: tbh i’d recommend anything of Sabres (and multiple times at that - hence why i posted abt this on monday as well), but Celestial Navigation and by extension Orbital Mechanics both have permanent places on my instant classics list. just a lovely fic all around.

Something Death Can Touch - by thatdammeddame

Tony nearly dies in the field on a Saturday.

Steve breaks up with Tony the Wednesday after he's released from hospital.

why rec?: sad!! with happy ending!! its got a nice round conclusion, everyone comes full circle and is better for it.

Like A Comet Streaming On - by Sineala

Tony escapes Afghanistan with a functioning Iron Man suit and a perfectly normal heart. He even manages to bring Ho Yinsen home safely at his side. But he may as well have lost everything... because his wolfbrother is dead. Six months later, the Avengers find Captain America, frozen in ice, miraculously alive. Everything and everyone Steve has ever known is gone -- except his wolfsister, the recipient of the lupine version of the super-soldier serum, who was frozen in his arms. Tony has everything but his wolf. Steve has only his wolf. This is how their lives fit together.

why rec?: another fic that lives in my phone and travels with me - this is an instant classic for sure. i feel like i’ve recced this before no but i will be reccing it’s “fanfic of a fanfic” in tomorrows post, so I have talked about it. I love the psychic wolf premise, I hope to maybe do something in the future with it, though I could never dream of coming close to this amazing fic. If i’ve read this once i’ve read it dozens of times and loved it more each time.

Wait & Sea - by Lenalena

In which Tony and Steve get sent on an undercover mission aboard a cruise ship to make contact with Hydra. In this AU the military has kept the discovery and defrosting of Captain America a secret, so Steve and Tony have never met before. Yet they are to pose as newlyweds....

why rec?: tagged as angst and humor and if memory serves that’s exactly right. perfect blend of the humor of the identity porn trope with the angst of constant misunderstandings.

Born From The Earth - by venusm

Tony Stark's born an omega in a world where that means he's supposed to follow certain social rules. He becomes Iron Man anyway: Fuck biology.

If only his biology (and the world) would quit fucking him back.

why rec?: i debated real heavy about including this because it’s technically steve/tony/omc, but hear me out: A great part of this fic focuses on the developing relationship between Tony and Steve, as well as Tony’s relationship with himself and the world around him. This is, hands down, my favorite fic of all time. as far as writing in general goes it’s right up there with my favorite authors. if i could only read one fic for the rest of my life this would undoubtedly be it - unfinished or no. i cannot even begin to impress upon you how much I love this fic. I can only aspire to write like this. the author makes you angry when they want you to be angry, sad when they want that too. It’s a beautifully orchestrated rollercoaster of emotion and I fall a little more in love every time I read it (which is frighteningly often).

Never Too Late for Love - by Sineala

Steve has always believed that a soulbond is a blessing -- a rare and beautiful miracle, joining the thoughts and feelings of two people forever, from the first time they touch. Steve knows he's not going to be one of the lucky ones. He knows Gail isn't his soulmate. But he loves her, even if they're not soulmates, and he's going to do right by her. After the war's over, he's going to marry her, and they're going to settle down. They'll buy a house. They'll have children. He'll see his family again. Maybe Bucky will live next door. It's going to be a good life. He doesn't need a soulbond. He'll be fine without one.

Then Steve wakes up sixty years in the future to find that his wonderful life has moved on without him. His family is long dead. His fiancée married his best friend. And the only purpose he has left is leading the Ultimates, a misbegotten team of superheroes with flaws too numerous to count. Steve hates everything about the future -- but most of all he detests Tony, flashy and flirtatious, who embodies everything Steve hates about a world he never wanted to live in.

And, oh, yeah, Steve has a soulmate after all: Tony fucking Stark.

why rec?: so much relationship angst. so. much. angst. Steve has to get his ass in gear and his brain into the 21st century, and Tony probably needs to go easy on the poor guy. its also ultsfic, which I’m usually not a giant fan of bc of the assholery but the dynamic works for me here

Senseless - by Scavenge4Dreams

Blinded, deafened, exhausted, injured and afraid, Tony raised himself up into a defensive position, the knife coming up just like Nat had taught him.

“That had better fucking be you, Steve Rogers- it had better be you. Fucking disarm me. If you let me kill you, I swear I will be very, very pissed.” Tony snarled, sure it was Steve approaching. Had to be. Had. To. Be.

What if it wasn’t?

why rec?: it’s been a while since i’ve read this, but I remember this being a good one that involves a rescue, injury recovery, and some eventual upon a brief reread I can say that this fic also has established relationship going for it! it’s tagged angst but it’s definitely got it’s fluffy parts and a really fun ending

Thrust Issues - by Sineala

A battle gone wrong leads Tony to the unexpected and pleasant discovery that Steve is much more well-endowed than he could ever have imagined. But when Tony learns that Steve has never actually been able to sleep with anyone because of his size, Tony does what any good friend would do: he offers to relieve Steve of his virginity. Personally. Tony's determined, Tony's methodical, and Tony has a plan. He's going to get Steve laid. Tony just needs to make sure Steve never finds out that Tony's in love with him.

why rec?: look at this point i think we can all agree that i might be a little bit of a fan of sineala’s. just wanted to throw that one out there to start us out.

so my rec has little to do with the oodles of pining angst (of which there is plenty) and much more to do with there being a specific line in this fic that boils down to “friends fist friends right?” and I think of it at least biweekly. the rest of the fic is beautifully written and the characterization is to die for, plus its got a lovely happy ending!

She - by isozyme

Iron Man is strong and muscular and masculine, and Tony Stark wears a three-piece suit and walks with his hips stiff. No colors other than navy or muted red. No prints bolder than a pinstripe. No luxurious silks and linens. His outfits are tailored to hang crisp and straight, his slacks hemmed to a conservative medium break. The public won’t know. Nobody will go digging deeper, for classified ads and witnesses who remember him from half a decade ago. Steve will never find out all the ways Tony’s ruined himself.

why rec?: i’m putting this here just in case I don’t make a post for Sunday. This is one of those fics that hurts so good - it’s so well written sometimes it makes my teeth ache because it’s so sad and as the reader you can see all the pieces but a character cant. I love that feeling, its a great feeling. Some of this stuff can hit close to home so heed the warnings and read the tags!

#capimrecweek #capimrecweek2019 #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #fic recs

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sachinighte · 4 years

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Tagged by the wonderful @uintuva, here you go darling <3

AO3 name: Memories_of_the_Shadows

Fandoms: Naruto, One Piece, Sailor Moon, Dragon Age, Harry Potter, MCU, Hannibal, NCIS, Criminal Minds, Stargate, Bleach, YYH, Inuyasha, Ken Akamatsu universe, FFXV, Hellsing, Underworld, BTVS, RWBY, Teen Wolf, YOI!, Voltron, BNHA, Pokemon (these are in no particular order and I tend to vacillate between them at random times. More will almost certainly pop up and I’m positive I forgot a few)

Number of fics: 80 (published)

1. Fic I spent the most time on: And Now I See The Sunrise: my Isaribi/Hinata sentinel/guide fic which I adore

2. Fic I spent the least time on: oh, god, I’ve been writing for years and I used to specialize in drabbles. I have no idea but it was probably one of my shorter ones

3. Longest fic: Philomel’s Lullaby: which is abandoned and terrible but still counts I guess

4. Shortest fic: Mikata: because I’m not going to count my terrible teenage poetry

5. Most hits: The Apple Now Is Sweet: you heathens. (Link is NSFW, click at your risk)

6. Most kudos: Don’t Ask Why It Works, It Just Does: which, fair, I’m also pretty proud of that one

7. Most comment threads: Again, it’s Don’t Ask Why It Works, It Just Does

8. Favourite fic I wrote: I have to choose!? Agggh, idk, probably Alive and Burning Brighter (my rule 63!Tony Stark), or And Till They’ve Seen The Light (my rift stabbing da crackfic), or And Now I’ve Seen The Sunrise (since I gave it to myself for my wedding, I sure hope I love it XD)

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: Ack, okay, I know I only ever post finished work, and it is finished so I won’t do this, but probably Just A Dream? I just love it but I feel like I could do better. And I did start a sequel for it but I couldn’t get through it.

10. Share a bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on: Hah, you asked for it, here’s a bit from my massive Cullanders magnum opus that keeps growing and growing because these two are just made for angst (also, yes, I write in html, it makes publishing on ao3 easier for me):

“I’m sorry. It’s been difficult to leave the Gallows with all the upheaval. The Knight-Commander has become… more demanding of my time as well.” Cullen sighs heavily, then grimaces, his hand moving towards his chest before aborting the movement. Anders is uncomfortably aware of the many different ways people try to hide pain and equally aware of how difficult that can be. He doesn’t want to sympathize with a Templar, but Cullen would likely be more gracious about any healing than Fenris ever is. It might be okay. If Cullen really is hurt. “I fear… it’s not… in any case, things will have to come to a head soon enough. Neither the Grand Enchanter nor Meredith are willing to back down and, well, there is no one in the Gallows who is unaware of how precarious the situation is.”

Oh, Anders knows. For every mage he helps to escape there are three more that he cannot get to because the Templars come for them too soon, without warning. No one is safe. (And Anders sits here with one of the perpetrators practically itching to heal him. Void take him, he hates himself some days.) “So Hawke says as well,” he says instead, guardedly.

Cullen shoots him a look that is far too wry and knowing for Anders’ comfort but he doesn’t comment beyond a small grin, a cocked eyebrow. So Cullen has guessed who it is that is sneaking mages out through the basement tunnels. Maybe he isn’t as dumb as he looks. And he doesn’t seem inclined to say anything about it.

Maybe, just maybe, there is at least one Templar who Anders can trust farther than he can throw them without magic or Justice.

“You’re stiff,” he offers, instead of dwelling on such a revelation, something so counter to everything he has known since he was a child. “Let me see.” Cullen sighs, shaking his head.

“People would notice if I was healed, thank you though. It’s just… a training accident,” he says as though he doesn’t believe that it was an accident, although Anders will grant that it did probably happen during training. And with Cullen himself letting Anders off the hook for healing, that should be the end of it. He should let this go and revel in the fact that Cullen is uncomfortable and will stay that way for as long as the stubborn arse will take to heal.

“Just tell them you bribed one of the mages,” he says instead. It’s a plausible enough story--every Circle he’s ever heard of has those who do it, although Anders is fairly sure Cullen isn’t one of the ones who would--and one that most Templars will accept even if it’s scornfully. (Anders remembers a time when he was the one getting bribed, though he was threatened more often than not rather than bribed. Anders had come to the conclusion very early on in his studies that he wouldn’t willingly heal Templars unless he had a very good reason and a laxer curfew, more candles or blankets, or someone ignoring a dalliance simply aren’t good enough. He remembers Flora was vastly more popular with the Templars as a result. Anders couldn’t have cared less.)

Cullen groans a bit, that aborted move to hug himself appearing once more, and sighes. “Fine. You’re right. Just because I can’t afford the downtime right now, not with the entire city like an overfilled flour mill with some young idiot striking a flint in the middle of it.”

Anders stifles a laugh. Cullen normally gives Fenris a run for his silent and broody money, or is shyer and more bashful--though similarly, and constantly, offended--than Velanna whenever he or one of the Rose’s workers brings up something particularly crude. But every once in a while he shows his Ferelden farmboy side and Anders can almost forget that Cullen is everything he hates.

The wound is red with the start of an infection and poorly wrapped. Luckily, it was only a glancing blow, shallow enough that once Anders cleans it out and heals what he can it won’t even scar. Justice howls in anger at the edge of Anders’ perception and Anders mentally shoves him away.

“They should teach you how to field dress injuries in training, not magic you can’t even use,” he says lowly, maybe to distract from how warm Cullen’s skin feels under his fingers, from the wiry dusting of golden curls on his chest. Anders is surprised every time by how human Templars are. He probably shouldn’t be. Cullen sighes and pulls away.

“I don’t disagree that field dressing would be useful,” he says. Anders wants to get angry, wants to want to fight, but really, he’s just tired. Tired of political statements, of this arrangement they have, of still having to fear for his life and sanity. Anders didn’t ask to be born with magic. Nobody but the worst blood mages do.

(He’s seen a few of them, people who make deals with demons for magic because what they really want is power and they all think they will get away with it. Unscrupulous and bold, every single one of them think that they’ll be able to stop once they get the one thing they want, but there’s always another thing on the horizon that only blood magic and more deals can help with. All of them were caught eventually, and grouped with mages who have never done a single harm in their entire lives. Legions of power-hungry blood mages who thought nothing of selling another person into death or worse for the sake of fleeting dreams of power. And for what? A moment in time that they could try to satiate their greed. Is it any wonder that it’s mostly nobles who end up taking that path to power?)

“It’s done,” he says, instead of replying, instead of the rant that Justice is beating into his temples. Anders turns away and starts to gather up his things when Cullen blushes and touches his side.

“Thank you, Anders,” Cullen says softly, and it sounds so sincere that Anders has to leave without saying anything else at all. He needs to remember that Cullen is a Templar.

Not someone sweet and sincere, who blushes easily and listens well. Just a Templar. He’ll show his true colors soon enough. Five years is nothing against a lifetime of proof.

Ah, sh*t, I tag whoever would like to do this?

#my work #fandom feels #my fanfiction #long post #is long #sorry for this

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hopevalley · 5 years

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I just want to thank you for keeping this public. I have promoted you on Twitter and will continue to do so. I want to help in any way I can.

I debated all morning on how to reply to this. I know this is reference to Melinda making her blog private for Tumblr users only, and I think it’s important for me to express my opinion on that situation.

But first: thank you for the Twitter promotion! I have a Twitter account, but I admit I rarely use it (because I find it confusing to use lol). It’s @july_skies !

Regarding Melinda’s decision to privatize her blog: I support it. She works hard on her content and deserves to feel that people who like it will be capable of supporting it in a direct way (reblogs specifically). Nothing sucks more than making stuff and seeing that nobody’s looking at it or enjoying it, and whether or not that’s what it seems like to (general) you, that’s how it comes across when people don’t reblog her stuff. It’s depressing. It’s like she’s throwing her hard work right into the void.

While I’m on the subject, I’d like to talk about content creation a little more, to help give you guys a better idea of fandom and your place as a consumer of fanworks; I know a lot of you might be new to the concept, and you can’t know if nobody thinks to tell you.

For my “credentials,” let’s just say I’ve been a content creator for more than half my life and there’s something we lifers call fandom participation or fandom engagement. They are more or less the same thing, and the terminology boils down to us answering this question: “How is the fandom at large engaging with our content?”

In the last handful of years, participation is down across the board. When I first got into writing fanfiction I’d get at least 40 comments on anything I wrote. Many of my works ended up with 60+ comments on them!

Now I’m lucky if anyone comments at all, especially in this fandom. Again, it’s a problem everywhere, but I still get comments on fanfic I posted five years ago in other fandoms; meanwhile, this one remains relatively silent.

I post on AO3 for two big reasons. 1) ACCESSIBILITY. AO3′s site layout is easy to read! It’s easy to format! It’s friendly to people with issues seeing small print! And then we have 2) I do it to give people the option of commenting anonymously (in case they’re shy or nervous).

Having an account there isn’t required at all. People just choose not to engage with me when I post fanfiction.

It feels bad to spend hours of your time on something only to see 0 notes/comments/likes/reblogs/whatever on it later. Four ‘likes’ doesn’t feel that good either. Did people actually like it? Are they pity-likes? Do they even care? People mindlessly ‘like’ a lot of things; maybe they did that with your content, too. I’m not saying I don’t enjoy seeing ‘likes’ but a ‘like’ is more or less an acknowledgement that they’ve seen the content, not that they enjoyed it or want more of it.

Also, likes/kudos don’t draw in more readers: comments do. When a reader’s scrolling down the front page of their favorite AO3 fandom, they click on the ‘fics that look like they might be ‘good’ and even though it’s not always TRUE that the ‘best’ stories have the most comments, a lot of readers filter by the number of comments!

Comments tell other readers: this is worth checking out!

Let’s look at a quick example of one of my ‘fics:

This is from my AO3 account, a random WCtH fanfic. It’s not a long one, but it’s not short either. It’s a reasonable read in terms of time spent to read it, and as you can see 185 people clicked on it, 14 people ‘liked’ it (kudos are “likes”), and I have two comments: one of those comments is @trash-god and the other is me replying to her comment.

Her comment isn’t ‘less than’ because she’s a close friend, but she and I spoke at length about this story on Discord and her comment was just a nice little ‘addition’ to that conversation. Sure, the story’s about characters not many people care about, but look at that: 185 hits on the story. 14 likes. And only one person who read it took five seconds to leave a comment? Really? What about the 13 other people who ‘liked’ it?

What this says to me as a creator is that the ONLY person who is going to comment is the one person who might feel obligated to, and if that’s the case, why don’t I just save my stories to show her privately? Why bother posting them out into the void to hear nothing but silence from everyone else?

This is the direction that @whencallstheheart is coming from. What’s the point of spending hours creating these things when nobody interacts with you? Posting to silence feels bad. And look, to put it into perspective, editing gifs to post, writing fanfic, doing write-ups, maintenance of a blog, site, or social media presence: it’s super time-consuming.

Melinda and I both work full-time jobs as it is. My job hit full busy season and I’m even getting overtime now. I’m in training to take over the department next year and I’m tired at the end of the day. When I get home I have eight cats, a house to take care of, and a spouse, not to mention my in-laws live right next door and need help sometimes. We also have a property we just planted 1500 trees on by hand that we have to monitor, and my husband owns a house we rent to someone that needs work done on it, too. Sometimes, life is busy.

And don’t get me wrong! I enjoy creating, just like I’m sure Melinda does. I feel awful if I can’t “create.”

But if my choices are:

work for five hours on a fanfic or episode write-up only to get 4 likes on it, OR

play a video game or watch a movie or read a book or sit on the deck watchin’ the sun go down while I work on a crocheting project…

The latter definitely appeals to me more knowing I have to get up in the morning to go back to work again. My time is worth something. Neither Melinda nor I are getting paid to create this content. We put it together for free, in what spare time we have, in the midst of our own chaotic lives. My website costs me a chunk of money every year to keep up and running ad-free, and I could get all 1500 trees weeded in the amount of time it takes me to put together an episode write-up or decent fanfic.

All content creators ask for in exchange for their free labor is a sense of community, and that can be anything from:

comments on fanfics you enjoyed, even if they are just to say, “I read this and enjoyed it.”

messages that say, “I really like how [this edit you did] turned out.”

reblogs on Tumblr, retweets on Twitter, emails to website owners

you can even create your own blog and use it to begin conversations with those creators!

You guys have been pretty good about engaging with the show itself through us, but don’t forget to engage with the content you enjoy seeing that comes about because of the show.

Fandom content keeps the show alive even when it’s not currently airing, and supporting content creators keeps them creating. Everyone wins, then!

To talk specifically about written content...

Readers are the ones who ensure more material is created. Hands down.

And again: I love writing!! I DO. I’ve been writing seriously for more years of my life than I haven’t been writing seriously! But it’s disheartening to post a fanfic and get my one obligation comment.

Now, it’s fine if you don’t read fanfiction or even enjoy it. It’s also fine if the things I’ve posted aren’t to your specific tastes. Trust me, I get it; nobody is obligated to comment on my fanfiction, and I don’t want anyone to feel that they should be.

But please know this: if you do enjoy something, whether it’s fanfic or edits or something else, you NEED to engage with it, or it WILL disappear. People don’t like talking to walls. It’s frustrating and it isn’t a good use of their time.

(This is one of the reasons I haven’t bothered doing a novelization of the series. It could be fun, but for 0 comments it’s not worth spending the time on.)

Again, you guys have been great when it comes to engaging with the show material, particularly while the show is airing. It’s been fun speculating with you and hearing all of your different thoughts. I know sometimes Tumblr doesn’t make it easy to communicate, either, and you’ve all done a great job of getting around that.

But in between seasons things get slow on this blog and it’s hard for me (or anyone running a blog) to feel motivated to provide content of any sort if you’re not going to take the time to engage in it.

I’ll never mark this blog as private, but if I get to the point where I can’t get any engagement from the fans, I’ll shut it down. The point of having a “fandom blog” is to interact with other fans.

I enjoy providing content to you guys, but if participation drops off to nothing, I’ll be taking that as my signal that the audience is gone and my time would be better spent elsewhere.

So if you’re here and you’re enjoying things, don’t forget to take a little time out of your day to let your content creators know! Not just me and Melinda, of course, but your favorite people on Instagram, Twitter, and other sites as well. ♥ You might be surprised how happy they’ll be to receive interaction from other fans.

And another plug for fanfiction, because 1) they always get the short end of things considering how hard it is to amass the creative energy necessary to tell a good story, and 2) I noticed it’s the #2 page on my website getting visited: if you’ve enjoyed anything you’ve read for When Calls the Heart, tell the author! Here’s the section for WCtH on AO3! Is English not your native language/you’re not confident in your ability to write English? No worries! I’ve gotten many thoughtful comments in other languages and from people who spoke limited English, and trust me: I treasured every one. If you’re just not sure how to comment on fanfic, send me a message and I’ll give you some tips!

I don’t intend this as a slight against my anonymous friend up there AT ALL; I think it can be hard to be in fandom, especially if you’re newer to the scene. There’s a lot of history that’s long gone by now and missing out on it means it’s harder to step into fandom without also accidentally stepping on toes.

Sometimes we take for granted that we have an almost unlimited supply of fanfiction, gifs, memes, blogs, and so on at our disposal. But none of that comes from thin air and it never did. It’s the cumulative hard work of millions of people throwing their hearts and souls into something they’re passionate about in an effort to engage with other fans.

I hope this helped put things into perspective a bit!! Sending love at all of you that stuck around this far; I know it was quite a bit of a ramble LOL!

#when calls the heart #anonymously asked #answered mail #thank you for the kind comment but here's my perspective #in the hopes that you'll understand melinda's a little more #the lack of engagement gets me down too tbh #if i felt people would comment on and want to talk to me about #a novelization i'd start writing it tomorrow

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neruran · 6 years

Text

Kippou

Series: Boku no/My Hero Academia Rating: T (for language mostly) Genre: Fluff Relationships: Bakugou/Kirishima/Uraraka [Kirikacchako] Characters: Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Masaru, Bakugou Mitsuki, Uraraka Ochako’s Parents, Kirishima Eijirou’s Parents, OCs, minor characters created for the story Other Tags: Established Relationship, Polyamory, Future Fic, Pregnancy, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, probably a little OOC Summary: Informed that all is well and healthy so far, Ochako, Eijirou, and Katsuki decide to tell their parents the happy news; that they'll all be grandparents in a few months.

Check notes for AO3 link, because this hellsite has a vendetta against links within posts and I hate the link post format, so I gotta make a workaround.

(Title means "good news" in Japanese)

Remember when I said “famous last words” regarding not writing a continuation to Tsuwari? Yeah I was right. I also told myself when I started writing this “oh this’ll be short, just a couple snippets from different points along the timeline of Ochako's pregnancy and their forays into parenting” - you know, like a fool - then 2k later and I still hadn’t gotten to the main point of this so-called snippet, and I finally accepted that this was going to be its own oneshot. Sometimes I hate being so rambly. I admittedly struggled with this more than Tsuwari for various reasons, and I've also done further research and found a couple minor things in Tsuwari aren't quite correct, largely with how Japan deals with pregnancy and childbirth, but it's ultimately relatively minor stuff so I'm not arsed to correct it. It's actually been a little fascinating reading up on the official (as in government-related stuff such as paperwork and healthcare) and social/cultural differences between Japan and North America, so I tried to incorporate hints to some of what I learned, and if I can wrangle my focus and inspiration to write more about Kirikacchako's adventures into parenthood, I'll try to show the differences in those fics/snippets as well.

Once again I have footnotes, which are not really necessary to read to enjoy the story but add flavour, you could say.

As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, but likes, kudos, and bookmarks are nice too! Hope you enjoy!

The day after her little discovery, Ochako books an appointment for that week with her ob/gyn. When she goes in a couple days later and relays the story to Dr. Houkou, they laugh heartily for a good five minutes, much to Ochako's embarrassment. [1]

"I'm terribly sorry for laughing, it really is a little amazing you didn't put the pieces together until now,” they say once they've calmed down, dabbing their eyes with a tissue.

"You can't entirely blame me," Ochako mumbles, hiding her red face. She knows Dr. Houkou doesn't mean any insult, and honestly it is a little funny, but still, she can't help but feel embarrassed for herself.

"That's true, and to tell you the truth, this is not the biggest case of lack of observation; I've heard stories of people who didn't realize they were pregnant until they went to the hospital complaining of stomach pains, when it turned out they were in labour!" [2]

"Oh gosh, I hope I would've noticed long before then!" Uneasily, she rubs her belly. "If not me, one or both of my partners.”

"I'm sure you would; from what I know of those instances, there were certain factors that led the parent-to-be to not recognize the signs, or made the signs less than obvious, which while that's evidently somewhat applicable to you, those situations were more...extreme, I suppose you could say?"

"I'm just glad the worst that's happened to me is this broken wrist," Ochako says, lifting her cast. "I forgot to ask at the hospital, but will this affect the baby at all?"

"No, it should be fine. At worst, it'll be a little slow to heal as most of your body's resources are focused on what's in your womb rather than healing your injuries, but I'm sure the extra downtime will be good for you. Oh don't pull that face, you workaholic," Dr. Houkou scolds, rolling their eyes at the poorly concealed pout Ochako has. "I know you're a busy hero, but it's important you take time to recover, especially now it's not just yourself that you need to look out for.”

"I know, it's just going to be tough," sighs Ochako. "I love helping people! After being in this field for so many years, I feel restless at the idea of not doing anything more than paperwork or small tasks, but I'll have to get used to it for the next while."

"Don't worry, before you know it, you'll be having your baby and jumping back into the fray. Now, let's figure out that due date."

~~~

"We're home!"

"Welcome back!" Ochako calls back, peeking her head over the back of the couch to smile at her partners as they make their way into their apartment. "How was work today?"

"Nothing super exciting on my end, just broke up a scuffle between a couple of rowdy yankii while out on patrols," Eijirou reports.

Katsuki huffs, evidently jealous. "Boring as shit."

"Oh calm down, you got to stop a robbery last week."

"Doesn't make this week any less boring."

Rolling his eyes, Eijirou picks up a meowing Hotaru, placing her on his shoulder as he plops down beside Ochako. He peers curiously at the various booklets and pamphlets she has scattered around her. "How about you? How'd your appointment go?"

"Well, besides giving them a good laugh when I told them how I hadn't noticed I was pregnant"—she shoots a pouty glare towards the kitchen when Katsuki snickers, but he ignores her as he starts on dinner, so she continues—"they confirmed everything's going well and that I'm probably on the tail end of twelve weeks, and we worked out my due date."

"Oh, that's awesome! When is it?"

"February 20th!"

"February, huh," Eijirou muses aloud. "We're just at the beginning of August; February seems so far away...The due date's just a guesstimate, right? So it could be born on a different day. Think it'll be a Valentine's baby?"

"I fucking hope not," Katsuki gripes. "People would probably only give them chocolate and Valentine shit for their birthday, I sure as fuck don't want our kid subjected to that."

"Hey Eiji, you think we'll have to implement a swear jar when the baby's born?" Ochako says teasingly. "Or do you think Katsuki'll manage to get his language under control before then?"

"Shut up, my language is fine."

"Sure, sure, I'm sure all of our mothers would appreciate it when one day while babysitting, our kid says ‘fuck' out of nowhere, and I'm sure it would not be much of a mystery as to who they learned that word from," Eijirou replies. [3]

The noise of Katsuki preparing dinner pauses for a moment. Ochako and Eijirou exchange knowing looks.

"...I'll work on it."

"Wary of what Mitsuki would say?"

"Hell no, that old hag can nag all she wants, she's not much better. It's your mom's disapproval I'd rather avoid," Katsuki answers, pointing at Eijirou.

"Mine? Do you mean Mom or Mama?"

"Ikane."

"Really?" Ochako questions, giving a little laugh in disbelief. "But she's such a sweetheart like Eijirou here." She reaches up to ruffle Eijirou's hair, earning a half-hearted complaint about his drooping hair spikes being messed up.

Eijirou chuckles as he gently swats her hand away from his head, petting Hotaru when she meows at him. "You haven't seen her in full mom mode. Once when I was in middle school, I said something crass without realizing while Mama was babysitting some neighbour kids, and the look she gave me could've pierced right through my Unbreakable state. Not to mention the ear twisting I got shortly after." Absently he rubs his ear, recalling the pain.

"I...suppose I can see that. If it's anything like the expression you make at villains that make you angry, it must be something."

Katsuki mutters a "you have no idea" unnoticed. For the best; he doesn't care to explain to Ochako the incident that lead to him earning Ikane's ire, however brief it was.

"Mama does like to say I inherited her passion instead of her quirk," Eijirou says with humour. "Though, speaking of; do we want to start telling people we're expecting? I mean, I know some people wait until the end of the first trimester anyway since the chances of miscarriage are pretty low after that point, so then it's pretty set in stone that a baby's on the way."

Ochako hums thoughtfully, drumming her fingers absently on Eijirou's knee. "I think I'd like to tell my parents first, but I'd prefer to do it in person or on video call. It seems impersonal to give them the news any other way."

"I wanna tell my moms right away; I just know Mama's gonna love hearing that she'll be a grandma. But I'm also excited to tell all our friends.”

"Why don't we just conference call all our parents and tell them all at once?" Katsuki proposes, scraping some vegetables he just cut up into a pot. "I know the hag'll complain if she's one of the last informed, so if we do it that way, it gets it all out of the way at the same time and I don't get my ear nagged off."

"That's...not a bad idea," Ochako says, blinking in mild surprise.

"Of course it's not, I came up with it. You make it sound like I come up with bad ideas on the regular basis."

Eijirou smirks slyly. "You mean ideas like putting too much hot sauce in your food just to prove you can take it, only to get hit by the consequences later in the bathroom, Kacchan?"

"Shut up, at least I can take it!"

"Now, now, your unfortunate dietary decisions aside, I didn't mean to imply you don't have good ideas," Ochako interrupts. Katsuki grumbles, but puts up no further argument. "I was just surprised I hadn't considered it. Since I have the next couple days off to give my wrist a little more rest, why don't I contact everyone and coordinate it?"

"Sounds like a plan! And then we can start telling all our friends and stuff!" Eijirou giddily hops in his seat, which of course disturbs the cat on his shoulder. She lets out a growl and bats at his head. "Ow, yeah, sorry Hotaru, I deserved that." He sets her down, letting her stalk off to cuddle up with Kyou who's laying in her doggie bed in the corner, touching his ear to check that she didn't scratch him.

Ochako giggles at him. "You think everyone will assume we're adopting another cat at first?"

"I mean, they might, but we only did that once with Hotaru and it was funny! I think in this instance though, I'd prefer to tell some people face-to-face first before announcing it on our social media. Mostly I wanna see Denki, Mina, and Hanta's faces when they hear the news.”

"Yeah, Dunce Face will probably flip his shit, it'll be hilarious."

"I'm excited to tell Tsuyu-chan, Tenya-kun, and Deku-kun. Oh, stop making that face, Katsuki."

"What face? I'm not making any face," Katsuki replies petulantly. "I'm not even facing you."

"Yeah, but I know you and I know you're pulling a face at the idea of involving Deku-kun, because you always do even though you two are friends now," she says, rolling her eyes. Eijirou snickers to himself.

"We are not friends, I just tolerate the stupid nerd enough to work with him on occasion."

Once again, Eijirou and Ochako exchange looks then simultaneously roll their eyes affectionately, fully aware that whatever bad blood the two had as children has long been resolved enough that they frequently trade spots on the hero rankings and collaborate on missions, all the while throwing harmless barbs and challenges back and forth. The relationship is complicated, as "friends" doesn't quite describe them, but "rivals" or "frenemies" doesn't seem right either. They're just "Deku and Kacchan", a category of their own.

"Point is," Ochako continues. "Deku-kun is my friend, and I'm looking forward to sharing the news with him. I know he's going to be very happy for all of us."

"Think he'll cry?" Eijirou asks.

"Definitely," Ochako and Katsuki answer simultaneously.

Eijirou laughs, leaning into Ochako. "You're right, dumb question. He may be better than when we were first-years, but I should know better than to underestimate the secret Midoriya secondary quirk. Now, what's all this you got here, Chako?"

Lighting up, Ochako eagerly explains the various pamphlets that cover things like her recommended diet, the baby's development, and what sort of information she needs to submit to the Health Office. Eijirou just as eagerly listens, nodding his head and asking questions, and though he's busy making dinner, she knows Katsuki has an ear on the conversation so she makes sure to talk loud enough for him to hear as well.

~~~

Coordinating the conference call with their parents ends up being a more difficult task than Ochako expects; each set of parents has different schedules and events, not to mention there's Eijirou and Katsuki's schedules to consider, so it actually takes several phone calls and emails to figure out a day and time that works for everyone. The entire time Ochako also finds herself dodging the question for why this is so important, merely explaining that their triad had some good news for them and wanted to announce it to them all at the same time. She admittedly flushes when Mitsuki teases that perhaps one of them proposed to the other two or vice versa—the idea of getting married to Eijirou and Katsuki flustering her even if they're already expecting a child—but clumsily acts coy to keep her from guessing the actual news.

After two days of back-and-forth, they finally all agree that the upcoming Friday after dinner will work for everyone, barring any emergencies. Which gives Ochako several days time to build up her excitement, but also her anxiousness. What if any of their parents don't approve? Her own parents had been rather apprehensive about her being in a poly relationship back when she first told them, but now that it's been several years with only a couple hiccups, they're happy for Ochako's happiness, but what if this changes their minds again? Sure she's a grown adult capable of making her own decisions in life, but she's always been close with her parents so she'd hate to lose that relationship over this. Mitsuki's reaction also worries her a bit, as while she does like the woman, she can be rather brash and critical like Katsuki at the most unpredictable of times.

She quietly admits this to Katsuki as they're snuggled up on the couch waiting for Eijirou to get home from a late-running patrol shift; he gruffly assures her that both his mom and dad will be ecstatic at the news, so her parents will surely feel the same, which means she has nothing to worry about. In return, he confesses feeling a little apprehensive himself regarding her and Eijirou's parents reaction to him being involved, but Ochako's quick to tell him that if she's fine, then he's fine as well because their parents all know what a good person he is and seen how wonderful and loving a partner he's been, so they should have no qualms.

Eijirou, on the other hand, seems to vibrate with anticipation with each passing day, as if the information that they're expecting is waiting to burst out of him like an explosion from Katsuki's palms. It even seeps into his aura while out doing hero work, enough that one of Ochako's sidekicks happens to take notice.

"Red Riot-san was more energetic than usual when I happened to pass by him doing patrols on my way home yesterday," Subspacer muses when Ochako stops by the office to pick up more work to do from home. "When I asked him if something good had happened on patrol, he grinned and said no, but he did get some news that made him really happy recently, but didn't elaborate further." They turn to her, head tilted curiously. "Any idea what that's about?" [4]

Ochako gives a chuckle that she hopes isn't as nervous-sounding as she feels. "Oh, I wouldn't think on it too hard...You've seen him in casual work settings, he gets excited over the smallest stuff." She does her best to maintain a smiling poker face as they eye her a moment, before they let whatever it is they're thinking go, going on to fill her in on what's happened at the office in her absence. Ochako knows they're suspicious, but mentally thanks them for not pressing the matter.

The days pass and Friday arrives without much fanfare. All three of them are antsy in their own ways during dinner; Eijirou can't seem to sit still at all, Katsuki's foot bounces restlessly, and Ochako frequently slips into her natural Kansai accent as she talks, excitement and anxiousness starting to come to a head as the promised time ticks closer. Soon enough, their dinner is eaten and cleaned up, their pets are fed, and then they're sitting on their couch with Eijirou's laptop opened up on Ochako's lap.

On her right, Katsuki's phone makes a little ‘boom' noise to indicate he has a new message. "My old man says he and the hag are ready when we are," Katsuki says after checking.

Eijirou's phone dings to her left a moment later. "My moms are good to go!"

Sure enough, hers buzzes less than a minute after, and a quick glance tells her that her parents are also ready. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she smiles at both her partners, then clicks the button to start the conference call.

Eijirou's mothers are the first to pick up, but her parents and Katsuki's follow suit seconds after. It's almost overwhelming seeing six faces on the screen, but besides the big news she intends to drop during this call, this is something they've all done before in lieu of separate phone calls and emails. Besides, it's been weeks since she's seen any of them through anything besides social media, so it's nice to be able to talk to their families face-to-face, even if there's a screen separating them. Smiling brighter, she gives a little wave, Eijirou doing the same. "Hello everyone!" she greets. A chorus of greetings echoes back from their parents. "I'm glad this worked out, it's been so long since we've been able to do a group call like this!"

"The woes of adulthood and having busy jobs, right hon?" Mitsuki turns to Masaru, who nods in agreement.

"How is that new line coming along, Masaru-san? I recall Mitsuki-san mentioning before you two had a deadline this week," asks Karuko. [5]

"I've finished everything that's within my control, so now it's just a matter of waiting for the samples to see if there's anything that needs adjusting before going into full production." [6]

"That's good to hear! Considering your other work, I'm sure it'll be a success."

"Not that I don't want to hear how the rest of you are doing," Tomoe interrupts, blunt but not unkind. "I think I'd like to hear from our children, since it's often so hard to get a hold of them with their unpredictable jobs." Ikane smiles a little, apologetic for her partner's abruptness. [7]

"Aw, but we wanna hear what you're up to too, Mom!" Eijirou jokingly complains, grinning.

"She does have a point though," Saburou says. "Ochako, how's your arm? I hope you're getting proper rest so it heals properly."

Katsuki snorts. "As if either of us would let her do anything reckless on our watch."

Ochako shoots him a sharp look hidden behind a smile that says “be glad you're sitting on my injured side, because I would be giving you such a pinch right now if I could”; Katsuki simply smirks back at her. Huffing, she turns back to their families. "I promise I'm getting plenty of rest; all I've been doing the past week is paperwork, which I'm glad I can do on my laptop because it's difficult writing left-handed! I feel so antsy sitting around barely doing anything though, so at my next check-up I'll ask if it's okay to go out for runs or something."

"I understand feeling restless, but please be careful, Ochako," her mother chides worriedly. "We wouldn't want you to get hurt further."

"Agreed!" Ikane cheerfully pipes in. "As amazing as that takedown was, it wouldn't do if you were out of commission for months instead of weeks."

The trio shares a glance at that, which doesn't go unnoticed by Mitsuki. "Now what's that look for? Is that related to whatever news you had to share with us?"

"Oh that's right, you did mention having some sort of good news. Did one of you go up in rank?"

"Did you get new sidekicks?"

"Are you being recruited for another overseas assignment?"

"New sponsors?"

"Whoa, whoa, one at a time," Eijirou laughs, holding up his hands. Once their parents settle a bit, he continues, "It's not anything related to our jobs, though it will kinda affect them."

"Particularly for Ochako here," Katsuki adds, nodding to her.

Confused and curious faces stare at them, bringing Ochako's nerves back, but she steels herself; after all, what do any of them have to be unhappy about? "So, when I had told you that they didn't have anyone with a healing quirk on staff at the hospital to heal my wrist, I wasn't being honest with you. Truthfully, they did have someone there, but because of some tests they ran, they were hesitant to use the quirk on me as they weren't sure how my body would react."

In the corner of her eye, Eijirou's grin gets steadily wider, his hand gripping hers as he tries to contain himself from bouncing in his seat. With a roll of his eyes, Katsuki reaches behind her and gives his arm a gentle swat, but it does nothing to hinder Eijirou's energy. On the screen, Tomoe's eyeing them intensely, to the point that if Ochako wasn't absolutely sure her quirk doesn't work through screens or cameras, she'd almost think that she's reading their auras to try and get a bead on whatever it is they're building up to. Not for the first time, she finds herself glad she's never considered going into business law, as she'd hate to be stared down by Tomoe during negotiations or prosecutions.

"Why is that, Ochako-san?" Masaru inquires. "What did they find?"

"Well, turns out that I—"

"You're going to be grandparents!" Eijirou blurts excitedly, unable to hold himself back any longer. When Ochako and Katsuki both turn to him with fondly exasperated expressions, he at least has enough awareness to look sheepish at his outburst. "Sorry, I just couldn't wait any longer."

All their parents are quiet, faces in various levels of stunned and surprised. It's Saburou that speaks up first. "Pardon me, what?"

Shaking her head at Eijirou, Ochako turns back to the laptop. "Turns out I'm pregnant, nearly fourteen weeks now. We're having a baby!"

"Wait, really?" Mitsuki exclaims, and it seems the Urarakas are about to speak as well, but everyone's interrupted by a joyous scream that makes them all jolt.

On the Kirishima-Keshiki part of the screen, Ikane's leapt from her seat and started hopping around, still squealing happily. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, I'm going to be a grandma! Tomoe we're gonna be grandmas! Oh my god!"

"You really did get your passion from her," Katsuki observes dryly, earning a giggle from Ochako.

"She's going to be like this for a minute or two, so I'm going to mute us until she calms down so the rest of you can talk," Tomoe says, rolling her eyes fondly before Ikane's happy screams go silent, though she's still jumping around on screen.

"Your mother really does love children, doesn't she, Eijirou-kun?" teases Mitsuki.

"Oh you didn't see his reaction when Ochako told us the news, he did pretty much the exact same thing as Ikane."

"Katsukiiiii, they didn't have to know that!" Eijirou complains, flushing a bit.

"You literally just shamelessly blurted out the surprise, you have no right to be embarrassed now!"

"Boys, play nice," Ochako chides playfully, patting them both on the leg.

"While I am happy at this news," Karuko butts in, expression stuck between elated and concerned. "You said you're close to fourteen weeks along, right? That means you've been doing all that strenuous and stressful hero work. Are you sure everything is okay?"

Ochako nods, turning her gaze down and placing her uninjured hand on the bump that's become a little more prominent in the past week but is still easily hidden by her clothing. "I was really worried when I first heard the results for that exact reason, but I got a check-up at the hospital and have had two appointments with my doctor since then, and they've said I've got a healthy and hardy baby growing despite all the factors that could have made it otherwise."

Sound returns to the Kirishima-Keshiki feed, with Tomoe and Ikane settled back in their seats. "Whew, I'm sorry for my outburst, everyone," Ikane says, looking a little out-of-sorts and somewhat teary-eyed, but still positively glowing from joy. "I got a bit overzealous. But still, I'm so happy and proud of you three! To have a baby that's managed to hold on and stay healthy without you being careful means it must be fate for you to have it. Do you have an idea on which of you is the father?"

"No," Ochako's quick to answer before either of her partners could. "And I don't think we'll really know until it's born, but to be completely honest, if possible I don't think I want to know at all, because even if only one of them will be related by blood, both Katsuki and Eijirou will be raising them with me together, and I think that counts just as much if not more than whoever contributed chromosomes." She looks up again, and her eye strays over to Tomoe. There's a subtle expression of understanding and gratitude on her face, and her hand's wandered to grasp Ikane's, and Ochako knows that she sees her point more than any of the other parents on this call. "No matter what, they'll both this baby's father. No ‘real' father or bullshit like that."

Everyone's silent for a moment, stunned by the sudden conviction and seriousness in her words. She knows her partners are both staring at her, but she stays looking at the screen so that she doesn't lose her nerve. It's only when she hears a quiet sniffle beside her that her concentration breaks, but before she can turn to see what's wrong, Eijirou's got his arm around her and pulling her close, face buried in her hair.

"That was so manly," he whispers, voice a little choked up, and he presses a soft kiss to her head. "You're the best, I love you so, so much."

On her other side, Katsuki all but shoves his face into the space between her neck and shoulder, his hand gripping her bicep. He murmurs something, but she doesn't really catch what it is. While she appreciates the sudden affection, she's a bit embarrassed that it's happening with their parents right there, and she's not really sure what's brought it on. "I— Uh— What—" she stammers, stuck between looking for help from their onlookers and avoiding eye contact with them. On screen, her parents and Masaru have politely chosen to turn their attention elsewhere while Mitsuki grins, unbothered by the PDA and in fact looking oddly proud. [8]

"You're right." Ochako turns her attention to Ikane and Tomoe's feed, where Tomoe seems to be holding back giggles at Ochako's predicament but also looking away politely. Ikane, on the other hand, is watching their triad with fondness, gaze soft. "That was rude of me to say, especially when I'm fully aware that love and family aren't defined purely by blood." Her hand finds Tomoe's, and she gives it a gentle squeeze in apology. "You're going to be a wonderful mother, Ochako-chan, and I'm glad my son has such loving partners in you and Katsuki-kun."

Eijirou whines, ears turning pink as he hides his face further. "Mama, don't say things like that, I'm gonna cry more! And then Ochako will start crying because hormones, and I'll feel bad for making her cry, and then Mom might get involved—"

"Hey now."

"—and maybe Katsuki will get overwhelmed—"

"Oi, don't just assume things—!"

"Nothing wrong with some manly happy tears, Ei-chan; I know we taught you that!"

"I know, but it's still a bit embarrassing to do it in front of everyone!"

"Says one of the two currently clinging to me without shame..." Ochako mumbles.

Both Eijirou and Katsuki stiffen, realizing that yes, they're practically smothering Ochako while their parents are watching; Ochako can't move her head much in this position, but she's sure they're both starting to flush. After a moment, the two finally pull away, their heads turned to avoid eye contact with everyone.

Eijirou lets out a sheepish chuckle, ruffling his hair. "S-Sorry about that, I guess we got a bit overwhelmed and forgot about our company."

"No harm, no foul," Saburou assures gently, waving off the apology.

"Besides, it was kind of cute. It's not often I get to see my Katsuki get so emotional," Mitsuki teases.

"Shut the fuck up, old hag," Katsuki grumbles, flushing more and sinking a bit into the couch.

Masaru puts a hand on Mitsuki's shoulder when it seems like she's about to scold their son. "Be nice, you two," he chides, waiting until Mitsuki's hackles lower before looking to Ochako. "Really, we're delighted at this news, and we're happy that you've shared it with us all. I'm sure all of us parents can agree that it's not always an easy road, but we're all here for you if there's anything you should need along the way."

"Of course!" Karuko pipes up. "We'd be happy to give you advice and help whenever you need it. Now, tell us more about everything, like when are you due?"

From there, the conversation flows smoothly, starting at talks about Ochako's pregnancy and what the three of them are to expect in the future before eventually moving on to general life updates such as new projects at work or what their neighbours are up to. As the group call edges towards the two hour mark, everyone notes with amusement that Ochako's eyes have begun to droop. Ochako tries to insist she's fine when Saburou points this out, but before long her head is leaning against Katsuki's shoulder, barely able to stay up. The families all say their goodbyes, promising once again that the three of them are welcome to come to them for anything and kindly demanding to keep updated, then the call ends. Eijirou reaches over to close the laptop, taking it from Ochako's lap as he stands and chuckling when Ochako shifts to sleepily cuddle with Katsuki now that she's free to move.

Katsuki, on the other hand, rolls his eyes, though it does nothing to diminish his affectionate smirk at Ochako's drowsiness. "C'mon Ochako, let's get your ass to bed."

"Nooooo..." Ochako tiredly protests. "'m fine, yer just"—she yawns—"just warm and cozy..."

He snorts. "It was fucking thirty degrees outside today and it's not even that cold in here with aircon, why the hell do you want to be warm?"

"Shhhhh..."

"Alright then." Despite her protesting, he stands, scoops her into his arms with no more than a quiet grunt, then saunters off towards their bedroom even as she half-heartedly wiggles about. "If you behave and go to bed, you can cuddle me all you want."

"But I dun wanna go to sleeeeeeep," Ochako whines, pawing at his chest in a lazy effort to get away.

"Oi, if you don't stop wriggling around, I'm gonna drop you and it'll be completely on purpose," he warns.

"No you won', 'cause 'm pregnant, injured, 'nd cute, 'nd I know ya love me too much to drop me..."

As they enter the room, Katsuki hears Eijirou—who's getting changed into his sleepwear off to the side—laugh at Ochako's sleepy retort, so he levels a frown that says "don't encourage her" at him, even though he knows that she's completely right in that statement. He would maybe consider dropping her on her butt just to show that he won't put up with her being a little shit if she wasn't pregnant, but circumstances are not in his favour, so instead he unceremoniously deposits her on the bed, earning a squeak.

"Uncalled for..." she grumbles, pouting petulantly as she rolls to the side and hugs her pillow. "What if I hurt my wrist more?"

"I know you're not that fragile, Round Face, so don't try to guilt me."

"Eiiiijiiiii, Kacchan's bein' mean to meeee..." Rolling his eyes again, Katsuki goes to change into his own sleeping clothes.

"There, there, if you really don't wanna sleep, you can cuddle with me and watch me play some Street Fighter," Eijirou says as he slides into bed, handheld console in hand. "Do a bit of backseat gaming. How's that sound?" [9]

Ochako hums, her tired brain considering the offer. "...'Kay..."

"But first, you're getting changed out of your day clothes," Katsuki announces, tossing a set of her pyjamas on the bed. When Ochako makes no move to do so, he huffs, then reaches over and pulls her towards him, tugging gently but forcibly at her clothes. "C'mon, you're not going to be comfortable sleeping in those shorts, let alone your bra."

"Whoa, getting frisky, are we?" Eijirou teases, waggling his eyebrows with a sly grin. Katsuki responds by throwing a pillow at Eijirou, who cackles even as it hits him in the face.

Before long, Ochako's changed into her pyjamas and curled into Eijirou's side, her head resting on his chest so she can watch the screen, her cast wrist pillowed carefully. Katsuki slips in on her other side after finishing his nightly routine; instead of cuddling, however, he chooses to sit up against the headboard, reading glasses perched on his nose and a book open on his lap. Eijirou's game and the occasional turning page are the only noises in the room, until barely half an hour later, both boys glance up at a quiet snore, smiling upon seeing Ochako out cold as predicted. Eijirou lets her continue sleeping on him for a little while longer, then carefully shifts her to sleep on her proper pillow, kissing her brow softly. Katsuki sets his book and reading glasses aside as Eijirou gets up to finish his own nightly routine, shuffling down under the covers and putting an arm around Ochako, who shifts closer to his warmth in her sleep. When Eijirou returns to the room ten minutes later, he's greeted with the sight of Katsuki spooned protectively against Ochako and just as asleep as her. While not a new sight, it's one that Eijirou can never get tired of, and he can only imagine how much better it will get as Ochako's belly grows, and then when their new addition comes into the world. Quietly, he takes a picture to appreciate later, then goes to join them on the bed, leaning over Ochako to peck Katsuki on the cheek before turning off the bedside light and settling in to sleep himself.

Footnotes: [1] - This time the doctor is not named for their profession, but still named for their quirk; I had a thought a little while ago that went something along the lines of “you know people probably take on jobs that have nothing to do with their quirk all the time, why don’t we see more of that in the HeroAca world”, and so we have Dr. Houkou. Their quirk basically makes them a human GPS; their name is made up of the kanji for “direction” and “navigation”.

[2] - This is apparently a thing that has happened to some people, believe it or not. Not something that happens often, mind you, but it happens. Factors for why the pregnancies go unnoticed include the person’s weight, the size and position of the baby, and things like spotting being mistaken for light periods. Which is why if you thought I was stretching the truth too much by having Ochako not notice for three months, surprise! Reality is weirder than you think.

[3] - Me: You know Bakugou’s language in Japanese isn’t really full of swearing, it’s just very blunt and rude because Japanese doesn’t have the same equivalents to curse words so the likelihood of a child imitating his speech is unlikely.

Also me: Meh who cares, gonna write it like that anyway, it’s funnier to think about it this way.

[4] - Unlike the doctors I’ve named in this story and Tsuwari, Subspacer is a full-fledged OC of mine! I’ve given careful thought into their quirk, name, and personality, though I’ve been undecided on their age and professional status for a while. I decided to add them in as one of Ochako’s sidekicks for giggles, but if I do get around to writing more of this storyline, you’ll likely be seeing more mention of them!

[5] - Since Ochako’s parents don’t have names (truly a travesty; they’re an important part of her motivation, but they have yet to get profiles like the Bakugous or Jirous? I call unfairness), I decided to give them names. Following Horikoshi’s current naming conventions for parents—which involves separating the kanji in the children’s names and giving at least one to each parent as part of their names (i.e. Katsuki “勝己” separates to get Masaru “勝” and Mitsuki “光己”), the only exception so far being the Midoriyas as Izuku “出久” only shares kanji with his yet-to-be-seen father Hisashi “久”—I took the “茶” and “子” from Ochako’s name and searched through various kanji readings and meanings to get Saburou “茶奉郎” and Karuko “軽子”. The sa in Saburou means “tea” and an alternate reading of the kanji, while bu means “offer, dedicate” and rou means “son” (this same kanji is in Eijirou’s name; it’s a relatively common kanji for boy names). Karu means “light (opposite of heavy)” which is supposed to reference what I can only assume is the family quirk (again, we have no idea what her parents’ quirks are; I DEMAND TO KNOW HORIKOSHI), and then ko means “child” and—similar to rou being common for boy names—is pretty common for girl names.

[6] - I will admit I have no idea how the production of fashion lines work, and unlike many other things, I’m not arsed to research it for a single line of dialogue (I do that enough as it is...I’m very easily distracted) so if I’m horrendously wrong on how fashion designers work in a company, please ignore it.

[7] - I actually have come up with entire profiles for Eijirou’s mothers, but I do not have the room in the notes to go into complete detail on them on here, so feel free to read about them here instead. I unfortunately don’t draw so they don’t have ‘official’ appearances, but I’ve tried to describe them as I see them in my head as best I can.

[8] - I think it’s relatively well-known that PDA in Japan tends to get the side-eye if it’s anything more than holding hands, and while Japan as a culture does seem to be slowly getting laxer about it and this fic is set in the hypothetical future, I doubt there would be significant change, plus I’m sure they’ll still think PDA in front of one’s parents is pretty taboo. Personally I’d feel a bit shy about hugging/cuddling with my S/O in front of my family, but I’m also aroace af so what do I know, hahaha.

[9] - Just imagine the gaming console Eijirou’s using is similar to the Switch, but like...a future version. Maybe it’s not even a Nintendo product, who the heck knows what game technology is gonna be like.

I considered also writing about the trio telling their friends the same week in-universe, but all the ideas I have for that are kinda vague and I’m not really sure how to write the scenes out without seeming repetitious, or how to keep them interesting to read, so I nixed that in favour of ending at this point, especially since I’ve struggled so much to get here. Maybe that’ll be an actual snippet, but no promises, hahaha.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #kirikacchako #katsuki bakugou #kirishima eijirou #uraraka ochako #kiribakuraka #nerufic #once again this is queued up to post during the day

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maychorian · 7 years

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Get to Know the Author

Tagged by @eastofthemoon. Thank you!

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

“Maychoria” was the name of the main country in the fantasy novel I wrote when I was thirteen and fourteen. It means “happy land,” based on two words I found in a Greek dictionary we had in the house. So “Maychorian” basically means “inhabitant of the happy land.”

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos).

On AO3, A Split-Second of Violence still has the most views and kudos and bookmarks, over 46k hits and almost 2500 kudos and 762 bookmarks. The first and second Boom Crash stories combined beat it, though, and Sell Me Your Nightmares beats it for comment threads. Over all platforms, I’m pretty sure my most famous fic ever is still Entertaining Angels, a deaged Castiel fic I wrote at the cusp of Supernatural fandom, just as Castiel was starting to get popular. I happened to write that story at the exact right time, in the mid-season break when everyone was hungry for more of the intriguing character we’d just been introduced to, and cute deaged angel boy trying to help Sam and Dean with their respective traumas was bound to be a hit no matter who wrote it. Plus I gave him pneumonia. It’s a thing I do.

3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it?

Same as my current tumblr icon. Cuz Lance has the best expressions and he’s the cutest and the best.

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

I do, and I love them and appreciate them so, so much. If you comment on a lot of my fics and/or chapters, you’d better believe I notice, and I love you, even if I don’t respond.

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

Basically anything in this tag: https://maychorianrecs.tumblr.com/tagged/personal-favorite.

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

Oh, golly. My work subscriptions at AO3 is currently at fifteen pages. A lot of those are completed or abandoned, though. No idea how many fics and authors I’m still subscribed to on ff.n, mostly in dead fandoms. I have 80 bookmarks on AO3 at the moment, but that is not an accurate representation of the fics I like and recommend others read. That would be @maychorianrecs, which currently has 681 posts and isn’t even complete even for the Voltron fandom, let alone the other fandoms I read now or have read in the past.

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

The Dream Seam ‘verse is definitely the one that owns the largest part of my brain right now, but I’m also looking forward to getting back to my DnD AU once I finish my current big projects. I tend to write more canon-divergence AUs than alternate realities, in most cases. I like exploring how things can differ across time if one small (or large) change is made in the setting we know and love. Like what if Castiel went back in time and ended up as Sam and Dean’s older brother? Love that one.

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

User Subscriptions: 617 Kudos: 27064 Comment Threads: 5019 Bookmarks: 5631 Subscriptions: 2713 Word Count: 1169905 Hits: 325489

That’s insane, and it’s only in the last three or four years, since I didn’t really start using AO3 until mid-2014. I have a lot more before that on ff.n and other sites.

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

If there’s something I want to write and share, I will find a way.

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

I wish I was better at action. It always takes me a lot time to sort of choreograph it in my head and then describe it in a way that makes sense. I also need to work on writing believable romance, since I want to eventually write more mainstream fiction, and it’s pretty normal for characters to have romances. I can’t just write everyone as being aro/ace or siblings, though I kind of want to. I wish I wasn’t such a procrastinator and had more energy to spare on responding to comments, because I really do love them and appreciate them.

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

Only if you count gen as a rarepair, which it kind of is. Otherwise, no ships for me, ever. I tried it. Didn’t much like it.

12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

70. Some of them are reposts. Eventually I need to get all of my fics over to AO3. It’s definitely the superior platform nowadays.

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

Unposted? Mm, more than five, less than a dozen. I tend to post things as soon as I’m halfway satisfied, because I crave that sweet, sweet feedback.

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

They’re mostly up in my head. If it changes by the time I start to write it, that’s fine. And if I forget an idea, a new one will come along sooner or later. I write in the now.

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

Yes, a few times, most recently with ardett for Sewing Patches. It was a great experience.

16. How did you discover AO3?

Back when it was just getting started, I got an invite to the beta from an LJ friend. It wasn’t until years later that I got into sports anime fandom and decided I wanted to start using it, so I searched my email to find that years-old invite and used it.

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3?

I’m well-known in the gen corner of my fandom, which is not the same thing as being a BNF in the fandom as a whole. I have no doubt that 99% of Klance fans have no idea who I am, and Klance basically IS the Voltron fandom, much to my annoyance. But I’m fine with the way things are. I interact with cool people all the time and get to show them awesome stuff and get nice feedback when I post fics, and that’s what I want.

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

Nah. That seems kind of pretentious and arrogant.

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

I’ve wanted to write since before I knew how to read, as far back as I can remember. As soon as I understand that those scribbles on a page meant something and told stories, I wanted to tell my own. Certainly in my teenage years I was very inspired by the fantasy and science fiction authors I adored, like Tolkien, Lewis, MacDonald, Orson Scott Card, Stephen King, Tamora Pierce, etc. I have been encouraged along the way by many, many fellow writers, as well. But as far as an instigating person at the very beginning, I can’t think of one. I just always knew that this was what I wanted to do with my life.

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

Just do it. Post it if you’re brave, keep it to yourself if you’re not. Make yourself happy first. Find one person who will read and enjoy your stuff, otherwise it will get stale writing only for yourself. But first and foremost, stoke the fire in your own belly until you have no choice but to use it, to let it fly from your fingers in words and paragraphs. Once you start, keep going, even when the fire burns low. Discipline is more important than inspiration in the long term, but inspiration is how you start.

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

Mostly the latter. I’ve written from outlines in the past, and I sometimes do extensive freewriting before I start something to give myself some semblance of structure, but working from a strict outline isn’t really fun for me. I’d much rather discover the story as I go. I subscribe to the Stephen King school of writing, the idea that a story is a boulder you dig up with a lot of hard work and exploring. Granted, that doesn’t always work perfectly, and it can lead to stories that are overlong and oddly structured or dissatisfying, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take in order to enjoy the process as much as possible.

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

Occasionally, mostly not on AO3. My feedback there is by and large very kind and enthusiastic. Every once in a while I’ll get a weird comment on ff.n complaining about some choice I made or chastising me for not doing what they wanted or expected with the story. Mostly I just laugh and let them go, though they used to bother me a lot. Once in a while they’ll make a solid point, and I’ll think about it, and maybe change the story a bit to satisfy the issue that’s bothering me, not for their satisfaction but for my own. That’s exceedingly rare, though. I think I’ve done it twice.

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

Action is hard, yes. Dialogue and emotional scenes come easily, so naturally that’s the bulk of my stuff.

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

My ongoing series and stories are all currently in posting. I have some ideas on the backburner that I haven’t started working on yet, but I’m not the kind of writer who finishes a project before posting, so there’s nothing going on that my readers don’t already know about.

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

Often as I’m finishing up a long project my mind will already be working on what’s next, yes. Not really planning so much as just daydreaming and working out scenarios in my head, but I do like that I never run out of things to do.

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

I try to write at least 750 words every day. Not always fiction, though, sometimes it’s freewriting or a diary entry. This post will probably be my writing for today.

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

Indubitably, since for the very first story I wrote I asked my mom how to spell the word “fan.” I was five.

28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written?

Oof, that’s hard. In Voltron, probably Bury the Sun. I keep going back and re-reading that one. It just…hits my buttons. On purpose. I did that. In all of my fandoms ever, probably Coming Down on a Sunny Day. It came together in an extremely satisfying way, and I’m very proud of it, even though the last part never got very much feedback since the fandom had moved on by the time I wrote and posted it.

29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written?

I started writing an original fantasy fiction called Cat by Night with the idea of posting it on Amazon and making money with it. But I started it out in very YA fashion with an incipient romance, and it just bored me to tears. I hated it. I couldn’t do it. Romance is not for me.

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

I would love to develop my original fiction and discipline myself enough to actually start publishing stuff on Amazon and eventually make enough money to live on, maybe with the help of Patreon. RIght now, though, fanfiction takes up all my creative energy, and I don’t know how I would justify making a living off that.

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

Making characters cuddle.

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

Getting characters to the point where the cuddling makes sense and feels in character.

33. Why do you write?

For the sake of the cuddles, mostly. Also because I can’t imagine not writing.

No tagging today because I’m exhausted, but feel free if you want to do this.

#writing #life #me #tag meme

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senatorrorgana · 7 years

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If Only We Had More Time - Three

a/n: sorry this took so long! i feel like i'm always apologizing for this kinda thing, but sometimes time just gets away from me with my classes and everything and i forget things until like 2 weeks later and it hits me that i should update fics! hopefully you guys aren't too bothered by the waiting, thanks for reading this fic! i just looked at how many kudos and comments this has already and it's insane, i hope you guys stick around for more! <3

rating: m

pairing: diana prince x steve trevor

ao3: (x)

“Thank you again for bringing me back here.” Diana said as the patrol car pulled up in front of the hotel.

“It’s no problem, it’s nice to know at least someone from that party will be getting home safe.” Steve said.

Before Diana could even make a move towards the door, Steve was already getting out of the car and walking around to her, pulling the door open for her. She missed that about Steve, his kind heart and nature; it was certainly even more rare in the times they lived in now.

“Thank you.” Diana smiled once she was out of the car. “Are you going back to the party?”

“More than likely, unless something comes in before I get back there and, well, it’s Gotham after all, there’s always something going on.” Steve shrugged.

Steve winced in pain and pinched the bridge of his nose, he seemed to be going through the same pain he went through at the party. This must be Ares’ influence, Diana thought. It was almost like a reflex that made her go up to him in worry, resting her hand on his shoulder and trying to fight off the worried expression on her face but failing.

“Are you alright?” Diana asked.

“Yeah, it’s just this migraine again, I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” He tried to reassure her, pulling her hand away from his head but Diana was still able to see that pain in his eyes. “You should probably get inside though, even in this part of town, Gotham isn’t safe at night.”

“I can handle myself.” Diana smirked, if only he could remember how well she could handle herself.

He stopped and looked at her, truly looked at her, as if he was trying to piece something together. For a moment, Diana was foolish enough to think that maybe he could remember something good between them, something that Ares had not twisted or Hades had wiped away. But instead that look quickly faded away; she couldn’t help that her heart sank just a little bit after that.

“Goodnight, Ms. Prince.” Steve nodded.

“Goodnight.” Diana replied with a sigh.

Steve waited until she made it inside the hotel safely, and as she watched that patrol car drive off, she couldn’t stop thinking about Hades’ warning. If Ares still had an influence on him, how deeply did it run? What exactly did he do to Steve other than twist his memories of her? And how was she going to get him out of the city without awakening whatever Ares left dormant in him? For once, despite knowing the world and how it worked after all of these years, Diana wished that something would be simple.

Gotham was truly a city that never slept, in the few years Steve had been here and been part of the force, he knew that was especially true for the crime of the city, it hadn’t earned the name of one of the most dangerous cities in America for nothing. Being part of the GCPD truly meant something if you were willing to risk your life to hunt down criminals, murders, and psycho clowns out there alongside a masked bat vigilante. Steve had been out on the raids where they cleared out places known to be affiliated with the Joker, and he’d been on normal night patrols; but in Gotham, a normal night patrol could turn into a deadly encounter just as quickly as one of the raids could.

It didn’t take long for Steve and his partner, Jeff Miller, to get a call about a robbery in progress from a jewelry store, someone had tripped the silent alarm and no one knew if any hostages were still in the store. By the time they got there, there were two other patrols keeping the building and perimeter locked down, the criminals would be getting antsy by now knowing that they were surrounded. Steve went in with Miller and another one of the officers that had already been there, more backup was on the way considering the size of the store, but they had to know if innocent people were trapped in there too before the backup came in an mowed these crooks down.

They’d found two of the three that were working in the store and that the crooks had left mostly unguarded. There was supposedly another one of their co-workers deeper in the building where the thieves were now, opening up the safe for them to take their money and whatever other jewels they wanted.

“Miller, stay back here with these two, I’m going in there to get the other one.” Steve volunteered.

“Are you crazy? They’ll kill you before you even get near them. We have to wait for backup to show up and let them know.” Miller replied.

“The minute backup comes in they’re going to be even more anxious and probably kill them, I can’t let that happen if I know I can do something about it.” Steve replied.

“Yeah, and if they spot you they’ll kill the both of you.” Miller argued.

“I know.” Steve sighed, giving a slight nod.

Before Miller could argue again, Steve was already moving towards the hostage, he could faintly hear his partner over the radio trying to tell them about the situation.

It didn’t take long for Steve to find the last hostage, a woman tied up and gagged with tears streaming down her face, terrified by the thieves around her. One was circling her like a vulture, a halloween mask of a clown on over his face and a pistol in his hand, he was the least armed of his friends but it was more than enough to keep a hostage from doing anything stupid. His friends wore masks too, animal masks from what Steve could tell with assault rifles strapped to their backs while the tried to work on the safe. He was so focused on the hostage, he completely overlooked a fourth thief who placed a gun to the back of his head and made Steve freeze dead in his tracks.

All Steve could remember before hearing the gun go off was everything going dark and some rage consuming him.

Diana was getting ready for the day, she planned on going to the police department and making up some excuse or another to get ahold of Steve again, she had the news on in the background mostly for noise, until a certain name caught her attention.

“Last night, after a robbery at Jameson Jewelers, a GCPD officer by the name of Steven Trevor is in the hospital with what should have been fatal wounds sustained to the head and torso. The officer has miraculously survived, though he is being kept in intensive care. The hostages who survived thanks to the officers actions are calling the officer a ‘true hero’ and they along with the officers of the GCPD are hoping for Officer Trevor to make a fast recovery.” The anchorwoman announced.

She was halfway out the door by the time the report finished, of course Steve would still try to be the hero, but nearly fatal wounds and surviving? That wasn’t something most humans could recover from, especially to the head. Diana knew in her gut that this was part of the effect Ares had on Steve, and if Hades was right, it may only be a matter of time before something truly terrible happens.

#wonder woman #my writing #wondertrev #diana prince #steve trevor #diana prince x steve trevor

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jarchieriverdale · 8 years

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I'm writing a Riverdale fanfic (Jarchie mainly, with Beronica on the side) which is one of my first proper fanfics ever. Any general tips or maybe even just tips for being brave enough to actually, you know, share it? I'm feeling so awkward about this entire thing!

Can I first start of with saying: so much kudos to you for wanting to put your fic up! Fandoms getting new fics and writers is always a huge YES because we always need more & definitely welcome it ^_^(This definitely ended up being really long, but I made a list further down if you don’t wanna read all my rambling. I’m not sure what specifically you’re feeling awkward about, but I covered a bunch of stuff :))

Reading this I was like, I’m probably not the best person to ask because I have really bad anxiety ?? but then I was like, actually, you know, that’s why I’m probably one of the best people to ask because HOW the HELL do I manage to do this despite that? And honestly it involves a lot of self-talk + bravery + a fuck-it-I’m-gonna-do-it-who-cares mood. And I have a feeling this post is going to be rather long, but I’ll just talk through my own experience and what I’ve told myself, and maybe it’ll help you (or someone else) as well. :D

(I decided to put this under cut IT’S SO LONG IM SORRY (& if you’re on mobile I’m even more sorry t_t)

I’ve actually been writing stuff for YEARS. I started fanfics in middle school, before that I was writing my own little stories. Little me in primary school and early middle school, so badly wanting to be a writer (I RP’d a lot between 07-10 as well). But I never shared my writing. SOMETIMES with close friends, if I bought up an original story and they were interested I would send it to them. Otherwise, I wasn’t about to share it with anyone. ESPECIALLY not my fanfics when I started. A lot of my earliest have gone unseen by the world (and myself for years). I’m sure this may apply to a lot of people if you’ve written stuff for years, regardless what type of writing it is. I don’t know if you’ve written other stuff before anon, but if you haven’t that’s okay because we all gotta start somewhere & if you want to share it right away that’s one hell of an achievement and damned awesome. On the other hand, if it’s taken a while, that’s great too. Either way, sharing can be one hell of an anxiety inducing situation.

Okay, so when it came to finally posting stuff up, I’d definitely been writing a while, but at this point I knew I really wanted feedback on my writing, and to see if people enjoyed it, so that was a huge factor in me sharing it online. I’d never find out what people thought if I kept it to myself forever. Critique can sometimes be tough (just before my ImperialRemnant account on AO3 I wrote fanfic elsewhere and definitely had “this sucks” reviews - which isn’t so much a critique, but actually being a dick because they weren’t helpful - and definitely had fics that did rather terribly - still do - but it’s all a learning process & you eventually get used to it).

It’s also important where you post it, AO3 would be best of jarchie and beronica, as well as tumblr. Fanfic.net usually does better with gen fics. They’re the only ones I use, although I have accounts on some other sites I still gotta go on.

So I’ll go through things you should remember if you’re nervous about putting up fics (and things I have to remind/tell myself constantly)::

1. I’ll start with the fact you’ll definitely get reviews/comments/critique like I said previously. But most people are REALLY REALLY nice, so don’t freak out (I tell myself, as I’m trying to rationalise), and I haven’t had anything terrible since making my ImperialRemnant account on AO3 or fanfic.net. And there are always times your fics won’t get any comments at all– and that’s fine too! I’ve had that happen to me, and in the long run, it doesn’t feel like a huge biggy??Also, sometimes people aren’t gonna like what you do and they’ll say that, but that takes me to a second point–

2. It’s not your problem if somebody doesn’t like something. This is really important to know. You wrote the fic because it’s a concept you wanted to write, and something you really wanted to share and that’s amazing. You put tags on everything in your fic, so the person will go in and know what to expect, so if somebody does say something, then it’s like… “it was in the tags/summary? Why did you read this then? Wtf?” then 0% your fault. (Tagging’s important guys! I do find it hard so if you do too then try! You’ll usually be fine).

3. In regards to quality of fic, there’s definitely is a lot of amazing stuff out there, and that’s overwhelming. But you gotta know, there’s a lot of bad stuff too. I hate to say it, because it’s the nice thing to say all fic is good, but the reality is that’s not true. Your fic may not be the best (hey it may be damn amazing I haven’t seen it xD), but there’s a damn good chance it’s not going to be the worst either. Say to yourself this fic isn’t terrible, it’s fine. Your quality will improve over time anyway when you grow as a writer (Lord forbid there’s stuff from a year ago I published and I’m like… why did I do that…but that brings me to the next point).

4. SOMEBODY WILL LOVE YOUR FIC, I GUARANTEE THIS. I didn’t know this at first but learnt it quickly and have to remind myself EVERY TIME. Even if, later, you’re going “oh god that fic was a dumb idea”, there will be someone, at some point, who will have loved it and enjoyed it and wished there was more. It may just be one or two people but goddammit your audience is always gonna start small, and if it stays that way it will always be worth it for someone (that someone can be yourself too!). The best feeling is when somebody gets excited from your updates (HUGE reason why people should leave comments if they love a fic, because there’s a lot of people who are passive readers even when they love love LOVE a fic & just leave a kudos, definite issue. But I hope as a fandom we can not be like that?).

5. Your writing is not going to be perfect to you, it’ll never be perfect, you’ll be sure there’s a way something could be written better, but maybe you don’t know how to make it better (especially if you don’t have a beta!). I never expect fics, when I go in to read them, to be perfect. No writer is perfect, even properly published writers. You’re going to have to tell yourself it’s the best you can do RIGHT NOW for THIS fic. Put it through an editing program maybe if it’ll make you feel better (I use prowritingaid sometimes?) or leave the fic and go through it later. It’s gonna be fine.

6. Don’t expect much at first. Sometimes first fics can be very successful for people, but there’s a shit-ton of people where this doesn’t happen and it takes a while. When I first put fics up on AO3 they only got less than 10 kudos or something? You will eventually write something that a lot of people may love, but it can take a while. I think… well I’ll give you an example with the Star Wars fandom– I first wrote TFA & Kylux on AO3 before The Force Awakens had even come out, so obviously I didn’t get a lot of attention. When the movie came out, there was few fanfics but I was already there so a lot of people would read my fics (dunno if they liked them, but since they were some of the ONLY ones that existed they didn’t have much choice ;P). If you’re writing fics in a growing fandom you might be more likely get more attention later on your fics, if only because there’s few choices. Some of my fics still have barely any kudos, but I have nearly 60 fics and they’re gonna be a hit or a miss (& they eventually gather more kudos overtime, so even the worst fics have at least a few). With Jarchie, I was actually surprised I got as many as I did, but this fandom’s in the process of growing and I assume a lot of people are reading all the new fics?? It’s probably good for you actually, to right now put a fic when people are reading it and into it.

6. It gets easier. Man, I ain’t even kidding, the first time I was putting up a fic I was freaking out like mad, going back and forth between the tag, mouse hovering over the publish button, re-reading a billion and ten times. It was ~kinda~ easier in a fandom where nobody was reading the fics because you definitely don’t expect much, but there were a couple of people who definitely enjoyed the series I was writing once I’d put some stuff up. And as time went on, it got much more easier. There’s a huge gap of time I didn’t put any fics up and it was hard to update again, but now that I did it, it’s once again easier to do it. I still have internal battles with myself over it, but it’s quicker to get over it and much easier to win.

7. I forgot a note so I’m just gonna add it quickly. But if you’re really weird about it, you can first send it to a friend to look over, or a mutual or something. Or, since I myself never could do that, just tell someone about the idea– and I suggest telling someone you know won’t make a negative comment about it. Sometimes a “that sounds interesting” or “that sounds cool” can be even a little helpful. If you’re lucky, might even go a long way.

Honestly, my mind goes through a whole lot of panic, and sometimes it just takes a good mental day, and some excitement about the concept of my fic, to be able to be brave enough to finally put something up. I usually have low expectations when I share it (being a pessimistic person by nature, so as not to disappoint myself), but I’m like… somebody’s gonna like it at some point, it’s not the worst fic I’ve ever seen, it’ll be okay. And if a fic doesn’t do well, then you just need to put it behind and move on (repress memories haha). Leave it up, don’t take it down, somebody may eventually come across it and love it, but there’s no harm done having fics that don’t do well. It might just be that it’s not gonna appeal to most people, and that’s okay.

At the end of the day your fic’s gonna be okay. There’s a bunch of amazing, unique, horrendously weird, terrible, awful fics out there and the last thing you need to feel is awkward. I know this ended up being a monster of an essay but I hope it’s helped, even a little.

tl;dr? No need to feel awkward, sit yo ass down and just fuckin’ do it. Shit’s crazy.

#Anonymous #writing help #feel free to add things #or tell me if it's helped #or just ask me some more questions im willing to answer!#about any writing stuff. Like. I double majored in also writing/literature and have been writing fanfics a while #and seriously guys I love to help i won't bite #I mean this post itself i was freaking over but im having an okay mental day #and the fact somebody's asked me a question I'm just like !!!!#ask

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foxtophat · 4 years

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another long one, coming in at 9k words because i am goddamn trash

HEY GUYS SORRY ABOUT THAT UGH today just didn’t go the way i wanted it to. you ever feel like that? well anyway here is the 11th chapter!!! fun fact: hurk and sharky show up! second fun fact: i am 90% sure that it is not moonshine they’re peddling. 3rd fun fact: i don’t know if they know what an apple looks like any more

i don’t have much to say about this chapter, although i will say it involves casual drinking if you’re not into that. i think i’m gonna go have a newcastle myself once i’m done writing this up... which i guess means now!

as usual my dudes, i want to thank you all for being so tolerant of my bullshit and so open to my dumbassery! it’s so nice to feel MOTIVATED to post for once, which might not come through when i get delayed like i have the last 2 chapters, but it’s true! i have so much trouble working on things without feedback, so you guys really have been awesome.

if you wanna contact me, my askbox is always open! as always, i appreciate any and all comments, kudos, likes, reblogs, casual links, private discord messages, idk whatever i don’t even use discord

below the cut is the full chapter for those of you who don’t wanna go off-site! thank you again for reading guys, and i will talk incessantly about this fic soon!!!

The next three days are marked by a surprising peace. Nick had suspected that once the cat got out about John, they would be fielding a flurry of calls, or maybe even some in-person confrontations, but so far they've been left completely alone. Maybe telling people on their way out of the county has something to do with that. Maybe they'll need to wait for Hurk and Sharky to come back and spread the news if Jerome's decided not to do it himself. Nick's not sure if that's even what he wants , but it feels like the inevitable next step. Eventually, if the community is going to come together, the cat's gonna have to get out of the bag.

John is just as nervous than before, although it only shows whenever they hear distant engines or a far-off gunshot. The night after the caravan, he and Jerome spend a full thirty minutes on the radio, but it only makes him more pensive and reserved. Nick wouldn't mind so much if Carmina weren't also acting bummed out — sure, she's just upset that she lost a friend before she could make one, but it still sucks to see his daughter acting as morose as John.

At least Kim's optimism hasn't been phased. She's been determined to look at the situation from every positive angle available, and none of Nick's uncertainty has put a hamper on it. She rallies them all for a second day-trip down to the river, hell-bent on cheering each and every one of them. It's a day of sunlight and clear water, and the fish are jumping like mad. It must be spawning season, or something, because the suckers are easy pickings.

The nice weather and the easy fishing both do wonders for Carmina's mood, which is becoming more and more fickle every day. Nick dozes in and out with a rod in hand, and although John spends most of the time staring at the water, he touches base with reality once in a while. Mostly just when Kim includes him in conversation, but it's still enough.

It's... nice. Nick doesn't know the last time he felt so relaxed. He doesn't think that memory exists anymore, lost to time like so many other positive thoughts, but he's enjoying the reminder to relax his shoulders and turn off his anxious brain for a few minutes. With the sunshine just as warm as ever and the water a bright, nearly unnatural blue, Nick figures all they need is an umbrella and some beach towels to drive the point home. Hell, at this point, they might as well claim this as their private waterfront.

Grace shows up after breakfast the next day, ready to take Carmina for some target practice at her range. She isn't strictly speaking to Nick yet, but she keeps it cordial, even friendly with Kim. Maybe Jerome talked with her, or maybe she came to accept the situation on her own, who knows. Either way, Grace ignores the sight of John out on the back porch and treats Carmina to a genuine smile when she comes downstairs, rifle in hand. Finally, three-quarters of the year later, the situation with Grace has finally returned to normal, taking one more weight off of Nick's shoulders.

She promises to have Carmina back before sundown. She also promises to leave her radio on, just in case. Nick knows what she means by just in case , but he can't say no to the added security.

Nick retreats out back, letting Kim have some time with Grace without the awkward tension of his presence. John pointedly refuses to look at him, sorting through a box of components as though he hasn't already picked it apart.

It isn't until after Grace and Carmina leave that Nick remembers he has an out — well, now it's just a regular chore. He's got to deal with the so-called freezer in the hangar, which is full of fish and sucking up all the fuel for the generator. Either he has to make it viable to use long term, or they're going to be shit out of luck for food preservation beyond salting and pickling.

From the look on his face, John wishes Nick would ask for his help, but Kim has already called on him to help harvest the last of the spring planter, so he's shit out of luck there. Nick doesn't have any damn sympathy for John — gardening is boring, and Nick will do anything to avoid it, especially something as easy as throwing John under a bus.

So, the good news is that the freezer still turns on. Nick hadn't expected much after finding it under part of the collapsed roof, but it hasn't shorted out once since they hooked it up to the generator about a week ago.

The bad news is that it's not a good use of power at all. The rubber seal is nearly worn off, so it keeps losing coolness, and there's definitely a coil burnt out or something in there because it barely manages to keep its temperature lower than the air around it. Sure, maybe it'll come in handy around winter , but that's not going to help them with summer around the corner.

As it is, Nick's only sure that the fish from yesterday are still good. There's a covered pot of stew underneath that they put in after the caravan left, which is probably fine, too... but Nick wouldn't put money on the rabbit they put in at the start. After all, it hadn't been all that fresh to begin with, and it's been wrapped in cloth for a little too long.

Well, maybe once they get some chickens and find a post-apocalyptic appliance repair center, it'll be worth being the energy sink that it is. For now, Nick has to figure out what to do with these goddamn fish and the leftover stew from the other night. It's their own damn fault, thinking they'd still have company after revealing John, but that doesn't change the amount of food they have on hand.

At least when Grace comes back, they'll have something to repay her with, although Nick isn't sure she's willing to eat any of their food yet. She'd been okay about seeing John in the backyard, relatively speaking, but there's no way she actually believes any of the progress being made. And as much as Nick would like to tell her that her distrust is unwarranted, he can't exactly tell her how to feel. It's just gonna have to take time, and she's going to need a different kind of proof than Nick.

They aren't expecting any visitors, so the sound of engines on approach shakes Nick out of his thoughts and puts him on immediate high alert. He can't make out the number of vehicles, but it sounds like a goddamn posse, which can't be good. When he goes out into the yard to check on Kim, he finds her missing; John is the only one standing there, waiting nervously by the planters and looking for any sign to bolt.

"Stay here," Nick tells him as he approaches, heading straight for the front.

"Yes, I know ," John snaps, but Nick isn't going to stop to argue with him. He slows his anxious jog as he comes around the side of the house, catching sight of Hurk's motorcycle through the trees coming down the drive. Kim is standing in the front yard, arms loosely folded over her chest; she looks cautiously excited for the company, although neither of them are sure if this is strictly a social call. Nick sure hopes it is — he's not sure they could hold their own against a group with an RPG and a whole lot of crazy.

Hurk kills his engine once he sees they've got an audience, leaving his bike with the others in the drive. The big, blissed-out guy and the smaller, wild-card one stay on their bikes, while Sharky talks to somebody sitting on his ATV briefly before following his cousin's tracks.

Kim greets them with a warm smile as they come up. "Hey, you guys. We weren't expecting you to stop by again."

"We radioed ahead," Sharky grouses. "But nobody answered."

"Sorry, I wasn't near the receiver. We've been out back all day."

Hurk pulls off his sunglasses with a dramatic flair. "Yeah, I figured it was something like that," he says, with a tone that implies Sharky had a different theory, one Nick imagines involves John staging some sort of coup. "Well, whatever, we're here now!" Looking around coolly for a second, Hurk realizes he still needs to explain himself and bashfully elaborates, " Somebody oughtta know we got back alright, so we can get hired out again and whatnot..."

"Everything cool?" Sharky asks. He makes no effort to hide how he's looking for a fire that he can blame on John. Well, at least he's trying to find a good reason to beat John up this time.

"I should be asking you that," Kim counters, wearing a smile that's enough to disarm Sharky's gruff posturing. "How far did you get?"

"We hit Great Falls before we figured any further was a one-way trip. They're probably past Missoula if they kept up the clip."

"And how'd everything look?" Nick asks. "I mean, relatively speaking."

Sharky shrugs. "A whole lot of the same," he replies. Hurk rolls his eyes in his cousin's direction, fixing him with an annoyed stare that eventually wears Sharky out. Shoulders slumping in defeat, he opens up semi-reluctantly. "It wasn't the, uh... wild wasteland I was expecting. Lots of empty land and road stops. Some friendly, some... uh, not so much. But that group can handle it."

Nick is happy to agree, and not just to placate Sharky. "Yeah," he says. "Hope County breeds tough people."

"Did you guys pick up somebody along the way?" Kim asks, having just done a headcount of the remaining posse. Nick remembers the two on their bikes; the new guy, he remembers from the third car, quiet and quick to leave but otherwise unmemorable.

"Oh, that's Mud," Sharky says, pointing at the three who probably can't hear much over the rumbling engines. "He was with the caravan, but he changed his mind." Sharky's chest puffs up as he confidently tells them, "He's ridin' with us now."

"That's great!" Kim exclaims. She's genuinely excited by the news and the chance to socialize, and the effect of her positivity is hard to fight. Sharky can't help but smile back, even if he's trying to act tough, rubbing his hands together as he casts another approving glance back at his gang.

"Are you going to do anything to celebrate?" she asks.

"Not much to celebrate, he's kind of a nerd."

"Come on," Kim laughs. "You left home and came back with more people than you started with. I think most people these days would count that as a win." She rubs her hands together, looking briefly at Nick and suggesting, "We could have a fish fry?"

"Hey, that's an idea," Nick replies. "We caught some bass yesterday and they're just gonna get composted if we don't do something with them."

"I dunno about that," Sharky says, cutting off Hurk just before he can excitedly agree.

Kim presses her hands together. "Come on, stay," she pleads with a smile. "At least let us feed you. When's the last time you had something more than jerky and booze?"

"Well..." Sharky trails off uncertainly.

"Kim's right," Nick cajoles. "We got plenty to spare."

"Grace is going to be back with Carmina in a few hours," Kim adds. "I'm sure she'd be glad to see you guys."

Sharky rubs his beard, looking back at their waiting posse. "Grace, huh?" he repeats. He trades a few unsubtle glances with Hurk before finally turning back to Kim and Nick. "Yeah, that should be okay. Except — ah, shit. We promised Wallace and Tiny we'd start doing things democratically now that we won't keep tying over everything. Hold on, gotta go confer with the boys."

They only spend a minute talking it over before the two motorcycles kill their engines, which is all the confirmation Nick needs to know they're hosting company. "I'll go tell John," he tells Kim under his breath. "Somebody should give him a heads up before Sharky punches him again."

Kim sends him off with a pat on his shoulder as he heads for the backyard. John is still waiting by the planters, although he's staring longingly for the safety of the hangar. Nick can't blame him — he's still sporting a dark and noticeable bruise from the last time Sharky socked him. Hopefully, seeing his lingering handiwork will satisfy Sharky, otherwise, John might wind up with a matching set.

"Sharky and Hurk are back," Nick says. John doesn't exactly relax, but knowing he doesn't have to prepare for another ugly reintroduction keeps him from bolting. "They're, uh, gonna stick around until Grace gets back."

"Then I probably shouldn't be around," John replies.

"What, you wanna go hide all night?" Nick rolls his eyes. "No, don't be a baby. Worst that'll happen is you'll get knocked down again." John doesn't look convinced, so Nick tries another route. "Come on, we went through all that just so you wouldn't have to hide out every time we have company. And people are gonna have to get used to you eventually — at least Sharky and Hurk already know you're alive." Finally, when none of that seems to work, he sighs and promises, "I'll make sure nobody decks you for no good reason, c'mon."

John finally relents, sighing and gesturing vaguely. "Fine," he says, "Whatever you say."

And, even though Kim isn't around to force him to it, John sits back down at the planter and resumes pulling carrots. It's probably entirely out of spite, but at least it keeps him busy while the posse of would-be raiders filters into the backyard. Nick stands awkwardly at first as Wallace and Tiny stare aggressively at John's back, but when Kim rounds out the group and nobody takes a shot at either of them, he forces himself to ease up on the suspicion. From here on out, Nick is going to try his damnedest to act like everything is absolutely normal. Well, as normal as it can be.

Kim has Sharky talking from the outset, which makes it easy for him to avoid acknowledging John at all. It helps that she's genuinely interested in what he's been up to since they last saw each other — other than open-channel conversations on the radio, the Ryes haven't seen them since the world ended. With only one car and not a lot of fuel, they haven't had a chance to go exploring the east side of the county since climbing topside.

As it turns out, Sharky and Hurk have shacked right back up at the old trailer park. They'd met up with Wallace and Tiny sometime after coming topside, and right now the four of them are in the middle of making the park more hospitable. Sharky keeps mentioning a reception area, and Hurk says something about expanding the lot, so Nick suspects they're looking to cash in on the heretofore abandoned hospitality industry.

For now, though, it's just home to four wildcards and one multi-use distillery made from old airplane parts. "It's pretty much fucked," Sharky says, although truthfully, Nick thinks it sounds kind of badass. "But with enough elbow grease, we'll probably be able to make it livable." He looks around, craning his neck to eyeball the mostly-intact hangar and their secure house, and offers a genuine compliment. "You guys got lucky. No hate, just glad you had somewhere to hole up in. It would suck to really have to rough it with a kid around."

"Tell me about it," Kim agrees emphatically. "Although, it took a lot of work to make it this nice, and there's still a lot more to do."

Sharky and Hurk settling in around the fire-pit is all the invitation their crew needs to make themselves more at home. It's no surprise that they pretend like John isn't there — nor is it a surprise that John returns the favor. It's a little tense and a lot awkward for Nick, but for now it's at least a peaceful holding pattern.

"It sorta sucked, seeing everything as trashed as it is here," Tiny says somewhat morosely. "I mean, at least we ain't alone, but..."

"Hope Valley got the best of it in general," Wallace says. "Right in the sweet-spot. Ideal Collapse."

"He means most everything else got blasted," Tiny clarifies, a sort of post-Bliss interpreter. "You can tell when you leave the county. Eases up after a couple of miles, but there's, like, a big old ring around us."

"No doubt, no doubt," Wallace agrees. "Protecting the good stuff."

"It's pretty fuckin' weird," Hurk says. "But I don't know nothin' about nu-clear thermodynamics and whatnot. Could be normal as the albino deer and shit."

"Uh, you think that the caravan's gonna be okay out there, if everything's just as wrecked?" Nick asks.

"Oh, sure," Hurk drawls. "There were all sortsa people makin' due out there, one way or another. They'll be fine ."

Sharky sighs, opens his mouth, then thinks better of whatever he was going to say and changes course. "They made it pretty clear they would be happier without help," he says. "Hope that works out for them. Me? I'm ride-or-die Hope County. At least 'til Hurk here goes international again. Then, uh, I guess I'm gonna be ride-or-die Miami."

"Hell yeah!" Hurk shouts. "Gonna get the business back in business, y'know what I mean? First stop: check in on mama and Xander. Second stop: top of the world, baby!"

The posse rallies around Hurk's promise with excited whoops. Nick doesn't know what Hurk's job was before the apocalypse, but considering the contraband he used to get his hands on, it's probably something that will only flourish here in the apocalypse.

"'Course, she's probably dead," Hurk adds somewhat morosely at the end, sort of ruining the whole vibe.

Sharky slaps his shoulder a few times out of sympathy. "Don't know 'til we go lookin'," he says, which manages to prop Hurk's mood back up for the time-being. "Anyway, we got a whole slew of islands and mountains and shit to explore once we get established. Spending the rest of my life riding around Montana sounds like a waste of a good apocalypse, if you ask me."

The new guy, Mud, looks more confused than Nick about these future plans. "So, what'd they offer you for joining up?" Nick asks him. "Ten-percent of Boshaw-Drubman LLC?"

Startled, Mud shakes his head frantically. "No way. Uh-uh." Bashfully, he says, "I just, uh... got cold feet. But I don't got much out here, not since the, uh..." He glances past Nick, definitely eyeballing John, then swallows and edges around the truth. "Well, um, Sharky let me ride back, on account of the — well, uh, I didn't wanna get left behind either direction. And since I don't got anything, I offered to join up." He frowns, "Except I don't have a bike, or gas for a bike, or a gun, or bullets for a gun..."

"I told you," Sharky scolds like a mother hen, "We'll figure that shit out later."

"It's smart to stay together," Kim says when Mud fails to pick back up again. "It's what we should all be doing. Does that mean you're staying with them at the trailer park?"

Mud nods, while Tiny goodnaturedly jokes, "Not that there's much left to stay at..."

Sharky is quick to defend their home, even if he doesn't sound super convinced by his own argument. "Hey, we just haven't had time to, y'know, clean and all! We've been busy, man, you know that! Gathering ammo, building the still, brewing ..."

"Would be nice to have a roof over our heads, that's all," Tiny laughs.

"Where do you want me to go, the roof store ?"

The argument is mostly playful, but Nick knows it's only a matter of time before that playful resentment becomes real. Hurk already looks bored by the ribbing, which tells Nick a lot about how long this joke has been running. Even John is paying attention, although Nick only catches an uncomfortable backward glance.

It's a contentious problem for the gang, for sure. But Nick doesn't have to reach far to come up with an easy solution, one that he figures will benefit everybody involved. After all, even considering their own needs, they've got more than enough spare scrap to spare, and Hurk and Sharky's goodwill comes with guns and alcohol, so...

"You know," he says, "John and I found a lot of scrap cleaning this place up. Maybe you can use what we can't."

Sharky opens his mouth to say something, probably pretty rude, but he catches himself before he gets that far. "Wouldn't want to put you out like that," he mutters.

"Hey, we're all in it together, right?" Gesturing towards John, who looks like he'd rather fade back into the dirt around him, Nick offers a sort-of compromise. "We've been trying to figure out what to do with the surplus. This seems like a better use than anything we came up with."

"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt," Sharky admits reluctantly.

Kim recognizes the need for some decisive action, and so she claps her hands together and takes the reins from her grateful husband. "Nick, you and John should take Hurk to look at what we've got. Then, all three of you can bring some wood back so we can get the fire started."

Sharky opens his mouth to object, but Hurk speaks up before he can. "Sounds good!" he exclaims, throwing himself to his feet with ease. Nick can't help but envy him — the guy's got twenty years on him, but Nick doesn't hear his knees popping randomly when he stands up.

"Y'all don't go startin' trouble," he warns his gang, waving Nick on. "Let's do it!"

John turns and heads immediately for the hangar door, disappearing inside without a backwards glance. Hurk lingers once they reach the door, casting a wide look around the empty wash of dirt leading out to the old landing strip before following John inside. He doesn't seem concerned in the slightest that John might be waiting to ambush him.

"Sorry about Sharky, by the way," Hurk says once the three of them are standing in the shade of the tarp overhead. "He's been real stressed is all, tryin' to act all fuckin' responsible and shit. John here making it after the deputy beefed it just hit hard, I guess."

Well, if that's the way Hurk's been referring to it, then no wonder Sharky's sensitive about it. "It's, uh. It's fine. We figured there'd be some... y'know. Reasonable resentment."

John does that thing where he pretends he can't hear he's being talked about, going straight to the log pile stacked against the back wall. Hurk doesn't seem to notice the silent treatment, turning to the organized junk spread out over the cracked concrete. From broken two-by-fours, bent fence-poles, chainlink scraps, and stacks of not-quite-moldy plywood, there's gotta be something here that can help fix up the trailer park. Nick makes sure to highlight the best scrap for Hurk's consideration, although he avoids mentioning their surplus of nails and stripped screws for now. No use showing his whole hand, right?

"Damn," Hurk says at last, looking around in mild astonishment. "Can we hire y'all to do this to our scrap?"

Nick laughs. "Yeah, like I wanna do all this again ."

"What about you?" Hurk asks John's back, ignoring the way he tenses at being directly addressed. "How do we rent you out?"

"You don't," John says, his tone briefly icing over as he turns, regarding them coolly over his armful of logs. He's more petulant than angry when he explains, "I don't owe you my life, so I don't owe you my labor."

"Fine, I'll just save you from a burning building or some shit," Hurk replies, as if he couldn't care less that it's John Seed he's bantering with. "I guess we gotta talk trading, now," he sighs reluctantly. "Man, I fuckin' hate this barter-system bullshit. You know, actually, I got a box full of bottle caps if you wanna..."

Nick waves away the extremely bad offer to invest in an unbacked currency. "Hey, don't worry about it," he says. Hurk frowns heavily at that, so Nick suggests a compromise. "Look, if you and Sharky wind up with your own microbrew, you owe me a case — and yes, I will take payment in installments. That sound fair?"

"If ?" Hurk replies. He lets out a big laugh. "Buddy, I got news for you."

Hurk, John and Nick each take an armful of wood back to the fire pit, where Kim seems to have everything under control. Sharky is less openly hostile when John reappears, anyway, which is a good sign. Mud and Tiny have apparently been given fire-starting duty, jumping to the task as soon as they drop off the wood. Sharky, a true pyromaniac, manages them from his seat by shouting directions at them as they stack the wood in the pit.

Before they can sit back down, Kim turns Nick and John back around for the fish. It's a one-person job, but John doesn't complain about being sent away.

"You okay?" Nick asks John when they reach the freezer.

"Yes," John replies automatically. Nick stares at him for a solid five seconds before he cracks with a frustrated sigh. "I'm just a little overwhelmed. That's reasonable, isn't it?"

"Sure," Nick agrees. He picks up the old bin they've been using to cart fish back from the river. "You can stick around here for a bit if you want. Take a breather."

John scoffs at the idea of taking a break, as per usual. "I thought the point was not to hide," he replies tersely. He reaches out to yank the cracked plastic container from Nick, a frustrated and instinctive reaction that he curbs at the last moment, fingers curling briefly into a fist as he forces himself not to just take things from Nick.

Taking pity on the dumb bastard, Nick pushes the bin into John's arms, flipping open the freezer door and staring down at the slimy, not-yet-smelly fish. "Well, if you need a break, just say you're gonna get more firewood." Nick shrugs. "Someone's gotta check on you eventually, but Kim knows the drill."

John doesn't respond as Nick loads up the bin, but Nick hopes he takes the out to heart. There's not a social obligation out there that Nick hasn't gotten out of by dedicating himself to some dumbass chore nobody else wants to do.

They return to find a roaring fire that is... hopefully under control. The mismatched seating has been pulled back to accommodate the fire's larger-than-average size, accompanied by a couple of chairs from inside to make up the difference. Sharky and Mud have disappeared, although they return just after Nick, each carrying a variety of bottles and jars of different sizes.

"Shit, I didn't think you brought the entire brewery with you!" Nick exclaims, not in the least bit upset by the development.

"Not until you clean all those up," Kim says before Nick can get ahead of himself. "You don't want to be handling a knife right after a shot of... whatever that is."

Nick groans, but she's right. As much as Nick would like to get drunk off his ass on torpedo juice, he has to get his priorities straight. Still — there's a lot more fish than Nick's willing to handle by himself, so he enlists a willing Wallace and Tiny to help out. He picks them mostly because they're openly carrying hunting knives, and because John is just plain bad at deboning fish. John stares at him resentfully, but since he hates handling food as much as he hates gardening, Nick's sure he'll get over it before dinner.

Nick doesn't have much control over the food once it's been cleaned, as Sharky and Hurk have some kind of bet going about who's the better cook and they don't need anybody else throwing their hat in. As far as Nick's concerned, their cooking tastes delicious but indistinguishable. Of course, Nick's waiting for his own dinner, so other than a few bites to try and judge the difference, he doesn't get to eat much of it.

Tiny and Wallace split and down an entire mason jar of mysterious dark liquor while they wait to eat. Nick wants to join them, but Kim's waiting until Carmina is home to start drinking and really, Nick should be doing the same. From the way John's watching distrustfully from the side, he's not likely to get into any moonshine himself.

Nick manages to hold out until after he's finished eating, but then Hurk offers him some moonshine directly and he can't say no. It would be in bad taste, right?

Oof. Turns out the moonshine is in bad taste, but that's what he should expect from something that's easily 120 proof. Nick takes one swig and immediately regrets it as it turns his chapped lips to fire and carries the heat all the way down the back of his throat. There's no taste or anything, just an intense, full-mouth burn and this lizard-brain instinct that everything is going to go horribly wrong if he drinks more of whatever that is.

"Jesus Christ !" he gasps. It's only Hurk's quick reflexes that keep the jar from crashing to the dirt, but Nick doubles down before Hurk can pry it out of his hands. Even as he struggles to form a sentence more complex than, " Poison ," he's got to go back for a second sip. As if somehow a second one would make things better — but of course it doesn't. At least, not to begin with; first, it's gotta turn his shredded lips inside out and throw his tear-ducts into overdrive better than an overripe onion.

"Well don't drink more of it," Kim huffs, way too late.

"Now be honest," Hurk asks, "Can you taste any apple?"

Nick pushes the jar back into Hurk's attentive hands, choking disbelievingly on the word, "Apple ," although now that he thinks about it... No, nope, no after-taste whatsoever. It does , however, warm him from the inside out, leaving him feeling a decent buzz for two conservative swigs.

"Whatever it is," Nick sighs at last, after a big swig of water, "It's great."

"You know," Kim says, "The sooner we put the stew on the fire, the sooner you can eat. Maybe then you could handle more than a couple of baby sips."

Nick clicks his tongue, taking some childish offense at his wife teasing him about his tolerance. At the same time, she's right — and Nick is getting hungry. There's still enough uncooked fish left for when Grace and Carmina get home, but if he wants them to have as much as everyone else, he'll have to settle for the three-day-old stew. At least Kim and John are stuck in the same boat as him.

Before he can get started on that, though, Grace surprises him by returning early with Carmina. Admittedly, it's still pretty late in the afternoon, but he hadn't expected her back so soon. She isn't surprised to find company, which is also a surprise, although she eyes the whole group somewhat distrustfully as she and Carmina round the side of the house. When she sees Hurk and Sharky drinking from their unsanitized brewing bottles, she finally relaxes, letting go of Carmina's shoulder so that she can join the not-necessarily child-safe group.

"Grace!" Sharky exclaims, leaping from his seat and almost grabbing her for a hug before remembering personal boundaries are a thing. "Holy shit, the world literally ended last I saw you!"

Grace returns Sharky's enthusiasm with her more subdued version of it, smiling fondly and following through the rest of the hug for him, the same way she'd grabbed onto Nick and Kim when they'd first come back topside. "Sharky, it's good to see you," she says, her voice deep with emotion.

"I radioed her while you were getting firewood," Kim mentions to Nick as Hurk takes his chance to get a hug from the usually reclusive sniper. "I thought she would appreciate a head's up. And, you know, it cheered Sharky up."

"Hey, good thinking."

Carmina approaches gleefully, carrying the rifle over her shoulder triumphantly. For a nine-year-old, she's pretty natural with the thing, which is a mixed blessing as far as Nick's concerned.

"Aunt Grace made moving targets!" she exclaims, excitement overriding her confusion momentarily until she looks at the group. "I didn't know we were having people over today..."

"It was a happy surprise," Kim tells her. "These are the guys who were helping that caravan heading west, remember?"

"Yeah," Carmina says. She looks immediately to John, who is way too busy staring tensely at Grace and Sharky's reunion to notice her.

"Don't worry," Nick says. "Everything's fine."

"Uh-huh," Carmina says, unconvinced. Thankfully, she doesn't seem too worried about another fight breaking out. That probably has something to do with her attention being focused in an entirely different direction. "Do we have pulleys? I wanna make a shooting range here! It's really easy!"

Nick's gut reaction is to say no, but Kim interrupts him. "Maybe while your dad is getting the stew, he can check," she offers, looking from Carmina to Nick significantly. "Then we can have some dinner and talk about it."

Although it looked like John hadn't been paying any attention before, he stands as soon as Kim mentions going to the hangar. "I remember seeing one," he says.

"You can help me look, then," Nick offers. "Maybe get some more firewood?"

"Yeah," John says absently. Nick barely steps into his line of sight, but that's all he needs, turning and making his way to the hanger down the same invisible path he was glued to before. Nick sighs, rolls his eyes at Kim entirely for show, and follows. Maybe once they get some food in him, John will stop being such a cagey bastard about the whole thing, and they'll be able to actually put things to rest with Grace and Sharky at last.

When the world ended, Nick had figured that meant the end of life as he knew it. In some ways, he'd been right — things will never be as easy, as safe, as peaceful as they used to be — but when his expectations had been wrong, they'd been completely off-base. He'd expected a nuclear wasteland, only to find a lush and thriving field. He'd expected roving gangs of murderers, and instead, he's only encountered desperate, decent people who would rather not waste the bullets. Hell, he'd expected to spend every day struggling to survive, and here he is, sitting in the backyard with a full belly and a shot of liquor to wind down. Sure, the gathering is a primitive knock-off of a barbeque, but Nick knows now that all they need is time and practice. Maybe someday, they'll even have a grill — burgers, corn on the cob, the whole works.

But hey. That's for the future, and right now, Nick isn't going to complain about some bad liquor, mediocre food and Hurk's stripped-down Slayer's cassette blaring from his beat-up stereo.

Carmina finally gets a chance to show off her skills to people other than her family, and so Hurk's boys take turns calling out targets for her to cap in an attempt to take her down a peg. Nick isn't sober enough to trust his daughter with a gun, but Kim hasn't gone back for another taste of "apple" moonshine yet, and Grace is sober as a rock, so they're more than capable of handling things. Mostly, they nix any particularly dangerous targets, keeping Carmina's shots focused out in the yard. Well, for the most part — neither of them can resist watching Carmina shoot the wind-vane still clinging to the roof, even if it means going right over everyone's heads.

It's all in good fun, of course. And, to their credit, not one of the guys even jokingly suggests taking aim at John as he sits apart from the group. It's a good thing, too — John looks uncomfortable at how good a shot Carmina is. Maybe Nick would be uncomfortable with it too, if he hadn't drunk a bottle-neck's worth of moonshine beforehand.

Nick doesn't have to drink a lot to feel downright tipsy, which is great. Back in the day, he used to like getting buzzed every so often, but he'd given up ever feeling safe enough to get inebriated as another lost memory from yesteryear. This... this is nice. And once the guns get put away, it'll be even nicer.

"I think you might be a better shot than Tipsy over here," Wallace tells Carmina, gesturing towards Tiny, who is indeed too tipsy to be a decent shot at all.

"Only one way to find out!" Tiny shouts, failing to move after his declaration.

"Maybe another time," Kim replies uncertainly. "When alcohol isn't involved?"

"Hey, Carmina," Hurk coos, pulling his battered gun into his lap, "This is a Kalashnikov, you ever shoot off one of these?"

"Ooh, no!"

Grace is much less diplomatic than Kim, cutting him off before he can feed Carmina's excitement any more. "Hurk!"

"What? Oh, uh... she's probably too young for an automatic, huh? What is she, nine? I got a Magnum in my saddlebag..."

It's not long after that they run out of targets, forcing an end to Carmina's demonstration of skill. Kim thankfully takes the gun so that nobody gets hurt, and Carmina spends the next twenty minutes peppering the crew with questions about their guns, their tattoos, their trip out with the caravan, and whether or not they have a moving target range like Grace does. Nick relaxes when he realizes that none of the guys are keen on giving a little girl another weapon, more interested in spinning drunken tall-tales that, truthfully, might be a little too PG for Carmina. At least Grace is listening in to fact-check any of their more problematic bullshit.

John isn't any less tense now that Carmina is disarmed, but Nick's not surprised. Sitting on the opposite side of the fire from everybody else, he might as well be hiding in plain sight. That goes against the entire point, but it's also his modus operandi these days. Normally, Nick would just ignore it, maybe even avoid John on purpose to show him how bad it feels, but tonight calls for a more direct approach.

"Need to get some firewood?" Nick asks him, coming to stand in his line of sight.

John squints up at him around the firelight. "No," he mutters, lying through his teeth before changing the subject. "Carmina has good aim."

"That's all Kim's genes. I'm more of a spray-and-pray kinda guy."

John doesn't quite hide his sarcasm, replying, "You don't say."

Nobody's offered John any liquor yet, he's pretty sure, so Nick holds the bottle out in an easily declined gesture. "Wanna try?" he asks, just in case he's being more subtle than he thinks. "Supposed to take like apples."

John gives the bottle an unimpressed once-over. "I don't think so," he decides, not sounding entirely sure about it. He adds defensively, "My tolerance is shot."

"If you say so," Nick replies, pulling the bottle back. "It's not like I'm gonna peer pressure you. This isn't high school. But, uh, try to relax. If anyone was gonna take a shot at you, they would've done it by now."

"Easy for you to say," John sighs.

It is easy for Nick to say, but he hopes John actually listens to him for once. He's not expecting miracles or anything, but if John's going to stick around, he's going to have to learn how to relax. Well — at least that's one learning curve that everybody is struggling with. Baby steps, right?

Nick leaves John alone for now; maybe he'll warm up into the idea of mending some metaphorical fences before everyone leaves, which would be ideal. For now, Nick goes back to the rest of the group, taking a few more sips as he listens to Carmina start to spin her own tall tales. Now that she's recognized the pattern in all of the stories the adults have been telling — larger-than-life enemies, intimidating names, lots of Foley work — she's attempting to match their vivid stories with a highly interpretive retelling about the turkey she saved her mom from a few months ago. The way she tells it, Nick would've expected the turkey she'd brought back to be at least the size of a car, but if Kim is playing into her part as a damsel in distress, Nick isn't going to ruin things by being the cynic realist.

They trade a few more stories. As they do, Kim takes a few extremely sour drinks of whatever the dark stuff is. She's been on hosting duty all day already, and Nick hasn't done much to help, getting tipsy right away with the rest of the guys like he had. But, with things starting to get late for a family of three, Nick decides it's his time to step up to the task of parenting.

Carmina hasn't had enough life experience to have many stories to share with the encouraging group of drunken manchildren, so once the attention turns to Tiny's story of his first swim after the world ended, Nick uses the out as a chance to usher her away.

"I think we oughta get you ready for bed," he tells Carmina, who boos under her breath but doesn't put up a fight, mostly because the story involves lots of nudity that she isn't at all interested in hearing about. Nick can't blame her — he doesn't wanna hear about Tiny almost getting his nuts bit off by a demon fish, either.

"Okay, but I want a good bed-time story," she demands, reasonably enough. Nick doesn't have anything as funny as Hurk's story, or anything as action-packed as Sharky's retelling of the first roadblock they encountered out on the road, but he has to at least try.

The good thing about Carmina not knowing anything about life before is that Nick can stretch some truths without repercussion. So when he tucks Carmina in, he decides to tell her the story of when she was born — this time, though, he doesn't leave out the roadblocks, or the deputy's shitty driving, or the narrowly-missed explosions. Couched in a long line of tall tales and exaggerated stories, Carmina doesn't believe most of the true stuff and only playfully believes in the bullshit.

Between Nick's bedtime-story voice and him gently stroking her hair, it's a wonder Carmina stays awake for as long as she does. Eventually, though, well before he finishes the story, she closes her eyes and finally stops resisting the chance for a good night's sleep. Nick stays put, lying next to her for a few minutes as he listens to the faint sound of conversation outside. He tries to make out the voices, to decipher who might be talking to who, but he only hears a dull hum.

He'll get up in a few minutes, go down and have a real drink with his wife for the first time in nine years, but the alcohol he's already had entices him to lie still just a little longer.

He doesn't know how long he dozes for, but when Nick is next aware of his surroundings, the light has changed in the room from the rising moon and the conversation outside has shifted in tone and pitch, the way any party might as it enters the late-night phase. Sitting up, Nick immediately knows he needs two things — more water, and one or two more swigs of that awful moonshine, just to keep the hangover from starting before he actually goes to bed.

The back porch is still wide open. The fire has died down, although it's still enough light to see by as Nick reappears. Kim sees him immediately, lifting a half-empty jar of dark liquid in his direction and waving him down with her free hand.

"This one is much better," she tells him as he approaches, holding out the jar. Well, Nick isn't about to reject his wife's kind offer, although he immediately regrets it when he takes a swig.

" Ugh ," he chokes around the harsh burn, feeling it drain all the way back into his throat. "That tastes like paint thinner!"

"Trade secret!" Hurk exclaims, adding immediately after, "Not that there's any paint or thinner in there, or anythin'. Nope. It's 100% organic malt liquor!"

Nick has no idea how Hurk would manage to find barley, but sure, he'll buy it. Another sip doesn't do any better, and to his surprise, he realizes that he actually prefers the moonshine.

As he hands the jar back, Nick does a quick head-count, coming up two short. "Uh, where's John?" he asks.

"Oh," Kim says. She points towards the hangar. "We needed firewood," she says. "Except, eventually, we really needed firewood. I sent Sharky to get some." It seems like only when she says it does she realize what a bad idea it is. "Well, we were in the middle of something, and I was distracted," she explains reluctantly.

"I wasn't," Grace utters next to her.

Kim rolls her eyes. "You should go check on them. I mean, it's fine. But maybe you should, anyway."

Nick looks over at the hangar. There aren't any lights to speak of out here, but Nick can see the glow of the lantern through the open doorway, shadows moving around behind the worn-out wall. "Yeah," he agrees, turning and heading across the wash. He only thinks of grabbing a drink for the journey after he starts walking, but he's already halfway there and he doesn't have time to turn around and come back.

Sharky appears in the doorway, forcing Nick to pull up short to avoid running into him. He looks — fine? There's too much beard and too little light to see his expression clearly, but Sharky doesn't seem phased in the least to find Nick in his way. He passes by Nick with a few logs under one arm, patting Nick heavily on his shoulder with his free hand.

"It's cool, bro," he says, "We're all good."

"Uh... okay," Nick replies, deeply unsure as Sharky casually heads back for the fire. Briefly worrying that he might find John knocked out on the ground, Nick tries not to stress out as he heads inside.

John is sitting on a discarded chopping block by the woodpile, the lantern settled by his feet. Nick doesn't see any blood or a new black eye; just John, rolling a nearly-empty glass bottle between his palms as he drifts in thought.

Nick almost feels bad interrupting, but John catches sight of him before he can retreat undetected. He looks surprised — genuinely, openly surprised to see Nick standing there, sincerely confused when he says, "I thought you went to bed."

"And miss out on all the action?" Nick chuckles. He gestures at the bottle. "So much for your tolerance being shot, huh?" he teases.

"Oh, hmm?" John looks down at the bottle like he'd forgotten about it. "Only enough to get them off my back." He sighs, following it up with a swig that he barely winces through. "After all, saying no ain't my thing ." Nick isn't sure if that drawl is for sarcastic quotation purposes, or if John's had enough moonshine to play at being white trash. "Then again, I only quit drinking because of Joseph. No point resisting now."

"I guess," Nick agrees reluctantly. "Is that, uh, what you and Sharky were talking about?"

John rolls his eyes. "No," he says. He holds out the bottle, waiting until Nick takes it to elaborate. "Kim suggested they sleep out here tonight. He was making sure there's room."

"Oh." Nick takes a drink; maybe it's just the malt liquor talking, but now Nick can sort of taste the apple around the burn. He takes one more swig, just to make sure, then hands the bottle back. "Well, as long as he wasn't hassling you."

"No more than I deserve," John says. Nick must make some kind of face, because he sighs and placating adds, "It's fine, Nick. I'm more than capable of handling a few sarcastic comments from some hillbilly outlaw." He looks down, tipping the bottle a bit to swirl the moonshine inside.

"He... means well," he says eventually. "Everyone means well."

"You don't have to sound so bummed out about it."

John chuckles. It's the first time Nick's heard his laugh and not mistaken it for a cough or wheeze. "I don't mean to be," he says. He takes a drink and looks up at Nick with a... weird look on his face. Open. Genuine? Nick's not sure. But despite the topic, John's expression radiates a deep, contemplative peace. "It's more generosity than I can bear from people I genuinely thought of as the enemy."

He is definitely drunk. "Oh, boy," Nick sighs, reaching out for the bottle before John drops it or finishes it off himself. "To be fair, uh, it's easier to be nice to you since we won, and all."

"Oh, I do not doubt it." John relinquishes the drink, seemingly aware enough to admit, "I've had more than enough."

"I think everybody's had enough," Nick says, proving his own point by immediately regretting his next swig. "God damn . Okay, well — we should probably get some wood. I gotta feeling those guys are gonna be up for a while, and we wanna keep them happy."

John nods, but he doesn't rise from his spot. "Wait," he says when Nick goes to pass him, so Nick obligingly stops, raising an eyebrow at John's half-lifted hand.

"You have to understand," he says. "I'm not — I don't know how I'm supposed to express my gratitude towards you. With Joseph, with — well, everyone , I've always known how to express my loyalty. I knew what they expected from me, what would make them happy, what... wouldn't. But with you, with Kim... I don't know anything. I feel like a child. I don't know how that makes me feel, other than like an idiot."

He heaves a frustrated, heavy sigh, ducking his head towards his nervously entwined hands. "Just — thank you," he finishes miserably.

"Wow," Nick utters in response. He doesn't know what else to say, really, except the obvious, but he genuinely means it when he replies, "Well, you're welcome. Man, and here I always figured you were playing me for a sap."

John laughs, shaking his head. "Manipulation has never been my strong suit," he admits. "I'm too heavy-handed for that crap. Intimidation and brute force, on the other hand..." He lets out a relieved sigh. "Thank God I was too sick to revel in my self-destruction."

"Yeah, I'm glad I didn't have to shoot you," Nick chuckles. "Sorta would've gone against everything I'm trying to build, you know?"

"I do now," John says. "I only wish I'd realized it before the end of the world."

"Hey, the world hasn't really ended," Nick points out. "There's still a whole left to do." He gestures towards the woodpile. "We can start by making sure Kim doesn't leave me for the raiders giving her free alcohol."

John stands, shaking his head as if he could clear the smile from his face. "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, not until they figure out how to brew a decent beer. Kim was going without for the baby. She probably would've murdered me if it meant she could've had a case of Newcastle in the bunker for a few months there."

Then again, she had also been freaking out about the nuclear apocalypse occurring above-ground, so Nick really should cut her more slack.

"You definitely have nothing to worry about," John reiterates. "But fine. No more back-talk."

"Yeah, fat chance of that. C'mon, give me a hand."

Nick leaves the bottle on the chopping block and utilizes John's uncanny strength, loading him up with an armful of wood before taking a few logs for himself, to give the appearance of helping. John doesn't complain, which isn't unusual by itself, but tonight it feels like genuine complacency, not just something he's doing to survive. And when they return to the fire, dropping off the wood for Mud and Tiny to utilize, John doesn't retreat to the safety of the other side of the fire. He instead lingers by Nick, going so far as to play along whenever Kim asks him questions, just to make him feel included. He, unlike Nick, is smart enough to refuse any more of the malt liquor Kim's taken a liking to, but he holds the jar for show from time to time, just to keep Hurk happy. In a weird way, Nick feels like he can actually see John taking those wobbly steps Kim is always hoping to see, and even weirder than that, the anxiety that maybe he's making a mistake fails to manifest, leaving Nick with a warm, fuzzy feeling that could very well be pride.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic

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