#this will be up on ao3… someday

[camping-with-monsters]

🍎Apple Turnovers🍎

A friend—and employee— of Adam and Jonah’s lends some baked goods in a bit of a care package as both thanks and condolences for some situations best left unnamed. Since the two don’t trust their car to go very far at the moment after it starts making some weird sounds, getting actual groceries is probably a no-go. The plan is to settle down and eat some treats while maybe watching TV or browsing some stupid memes on the internet.

The plan backfires when a beginners mistake is made.

————

Word Count: 2,594 I think

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Hi did you know I write. Yes I write. You are right. I do write.

Gonna be honest, I haven’t uploaded any writing in half a year on my AO3, and until I can set up my laptop again then I’ll probably have this on AO3! (Unless I figure out how to work it out on mobile lol) We are in the process of moving, so like, my resources are kinda limited. With that being said, this was written on my phone on the Google Docs app, so formatting might end up weird here?? I’ve never uploaded writing in this format for Tumblr, so this is gonna be just,,,, semi-awkward,,,,,,

This is very HC heavy and also relates to my Spectrum Blood AU, so yeah, this is a canon event, albeit pretty minor with some foreshadowing to the canon divergent nature of Spectrum Blood. Uh. Enjoy I guess??? Ehhhh??

Also thought I’d mention this lol, this idea came from @katie-latte / @hehe-parappa-goes-brrr lol, a lot of the plot references our roleplays but isn’t specific to that btw, this one’s more for you, love, haha

—————

“Ayo Jojo! I got the goods!”

When was the last time the boys had gone for groceries? Well, usually only one of them would go at a time. This time wasn’t any different than those “usual times”, aside from the fact that it wasn’t from the actual grocery store. As far as Jonah was concerned, Adam had stopped by somewhere at a friend’s to get some snacks they were providing for the boys. Money wasn’t usually a huge issue, but damn was it occasionally tight. Since this said friend has been assisted by the two boys once out of a hostile situation, they wanted to return the favor in more ways than one. Money was also tight for them, but hey, if they can do their good deed for the day, then what’s stopping them from doing so?

“Oh snap! Sweet! I’m fuckin’ starving!” Jonah exclaimed after standing from the couch, having been forced to listen to the rumbling of his own stomach for the past ten or fifteen minutes or so after not having anything that was desirable (or not past expiration) in the fridge or pantry.

Adam threw his usual backpack down from over his shoulder and on the dining room table, which held a lot of essential belongings. Some water bottles, a couple weapons for paranormal encounters like the most recent one they had, some bandages and other items to nurse wounds, and his walkie talkie. In his front pocket on his custom Bythorne Paranormal Society sweatshirt was his smartphone, which he promptly grabbed instinctively while heading towards a now-sitting Jonah and tossing himself into the green-cushioned couch. In one hand was his phone, which he promptly placed down into the cushion and rested weightlessly into the cushion’s pillowcase. In the other was a large plastic bag that was weighed down with a large mass. Adam placed the heap in between them as they sat face to face, criss-crossed on the couch, barely opening the bag when the aromas hit them. A soothing combination of sweet and savory. It wasn’t just a packed lunch. There were more than a few different baked goods, fresh from the kitchen, each neatly wrapped inside their own containers. Even though they’d all been sealed inside, the wonderful smell still lingered in their scent glands, causing a temporary moment of pure, sweet bliss. Like they had their noses to an incense.

“Now that’s a small I like. Mabel does a great job at pulling you in with this sort of stuff!” Jonah commented as the two tag-teamed at pulling ziplocks and tupperware out of the bag, the different smells separating a bit.

“Oh yeah, how’d you think she was able to make this all in one sitting?” Adam inquired to his mocha-skinned companion, pulling out a few more items from the bag.

“Maybe she stress bakes? I mean, she does have a lot of stress on her at the moment?” Jonah responded, purposely leaving the details out for the sake of their sanities— and possibly as to not lose their appetites from the thought of situations they had no control over. Nothing the two of them weren’t already collectively aware of, of course.

Adam smirked goofily, “kind of like you. Only you can’t do that cause we don’t have the ingredients right now.”

Jonah’s eyes rolled, deeply feeling a disgruntled tingle that he hadn’t been able to get his hands messy with flour or crust made from scratch or feel the dough under his nails and fingertips.

“Well, we still have to get the car fixed. I know it probably isn’t bad, but I still don’t like the idea of driving it when it’s making that whirring sound. I’m surprised you couldn’t do it this time.”

“It’s not too bad, we just can’t drive long distances. But what do I look like? A car repairman?”

“You look like a dumbass. Do you think the supermarket is close enough for a walking distance?”

“Oof, uh. No. I don’t think so. I mean, we absolutely could just truck it there, but imagine having to carry several heavy bags all the way back here for an hour on foot.”

“Damn, that’s a good point.”

“I only drove because her apartment is just five minutes away, and I didn’t anticipate anything bad happening. And frankly, nothing bad happened. She wanted to bake for us anyway,

“I mean, yeah. But we could always carjack.”

“Just for a supermarket trip? They’d easily find us if we weren’t hightailing it. Plus, that’s behind us. We already agreed that we’re going to be lowering our profile lower than it already is. The entire police force is after us, and I’m sure the alternates are too. We can’t take any more chances after what happened last time.”

Jonah’s mind blurred with the last major call they took, which nearly cost both of their lives. He still hasn’t gotten over the situation in its entirety. The utter, glum guilt still weighed him every waking moment, wondering if this was all a dream that Adam was even alive and that the two had actually somehow brute-forced themselves out of the grasp of the alternates. It truly made the two stop taking life for granted, allowing them to realize just how precious their lives were; to themselves, and each other.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

The two rummaged through the miniature feast of baked goods, pastries, and even some other savory dishes that wouldn’t taste like shit after reheated. This was the stuff their stomachs had been craving; good cooking like a mother’s cooking. Jonah was quick to help himself to a small tub of cookies he couldn’t instantly identify until biting into one of them and then muttering between chews, “huh, snickerdoodle.”

“Oh, cool!” Adam’s voice seemed singsong at one of the tubs with four individually wrapped items, one of them he unwrapped and admired, “calzones!? Oh shit!”

Jonah’s eyes lit up at the thought of a calzone. Boy, he hadn’t had one of those in… god, who knows? “Wow, that looks fluffy! What kind?”

“‘Boutta find out, bro!” Adam felt the warmth of the calzone in his hand even while still slightly covered by the paper towel-napkin, and took the first bite into the crust.

For the first second, the calzone was a bit hot, but not enough to burn him. There was a sense of gooeyness in it too, which he hadn’t registered the taste of yet. His first instinct is that it was a pizza calzone. But the savoriness had suddenly proven sweeter than the average cheese and/or sauce. He even felt the little chunks in his mouth as he pulled the bite off of the snack and chewed, a weird, not-so meaty consistency to them. The sweetened taste was almost overwhelming, nearly unrecognizable to Adam. Possibly some sort of fruit? The taste of a fruit he didn’t instantly recognize…

Then it hit him. It hit him like a train.

Jonah could already see Adam’s shifting expression as he tried to decipher what the taste was, but Jonah didn’t know that. And seeing Adam’s upper eyelids lift slightly somehow both excited him, and unnerved him.

“So, what kind was it?” Jonah harmlessly asked, a bit of whimsicalness expressed in his octave.

Adam, however, did not return the same expression, but instead read a horrified look. Jonah could feel the twinge in Adam’s voice when he spoke with an eerie slowness, “Jonah, I don’t think that was a calzone…”

The first instinct was to ask “well, then what was it?” As a bunch of scenarios played in his head. His mind went first to if Adam was just disgusted and if it was something he didn’t particularly enjoy and that Adam was going to vomit or something. Should he get the puke bucket in case?

Adam’s head cocked a little, his face slightly redder around the bridge of his nose and pinkining his pasty-white cheeks. “Uh, I’ll give you a hint.”

Jonah now resorted to the idea that the contents inside were hot, or even spicy, somehow burning himself with the inner filling of the contents. But now that he looked at the crusted item he held in his hand, suddenly he felt a bit of initial shock too.

Head turning a bit to the other, Adam placed the treat back into the container before he muttered out a slightly sickly few words:

“Get the EpiPen.”

And Jonah realized that they were, in fact, not calzones.

They were apple turnovers.

“O-Oh fuck! Oh shit, th-they’re apple turnovers, aren’t they!?” Jonah slightly shouted as he arose himself from the couch, a slight dent being left where he sat. Adam had a bit of a cough to his shaky, uneven breath. That quickly evolved into a slight rasp, and soon enough, a wheeze. Jonah backed up as Adam threw himself on the hardwood and forced himself into his knees. He wasn’t sure what to properly do, almost lost at the sight of his roommate weakened and teary-eyed from the start of what would surely be an anaphylactic shock. A sense of loss of control in the both of them synchronized for separate reasons as Adam coughed out more harshly, awakening Jonah from the trance he was in and reminding him of his objective. Get his EpiPen.

First and foremost, he needed Adam’s backpack. That was the first step to helping him. He just had to locate that. “Adam! Your bag! Where’s your bag!?”

His voice was rasped and broken in between breaths, but luckily his voice was comprehensible enough while crying “Ghh—table!! On the table—hhHHHhh! It’s-s on th-the dining room table!”

“Dammit, Adam! Save your breath! Don’t talk so fuckin’ much! Let me get it!” He finally pulled himself from the front row seat of the scene and stumbled into the dining room, nearly unable to stop himself from running waist-first into the table. He hoisted the black backpack into his hand and dragged it swiftly along the wood flooring while rushing back towards Adam Murray. He threw the bag in front of him and downwards, it landing only feet in front of the struggling boy, Jonah sliding downwards to the bag and unzipping it too fast. “Hang on, Adam! I’m getting it! I’m getting it!” He rummaged through the items in the main opening of the bag, ready to go through every single corner and pocket of it.

Jonah felt a sudden push on his back, the pressure at first startling him until he saw Adam was leaning against him, possibly for comfort or reassurance. Even if this was a dire situation, that made Jonah feel a slight warmth in his heart, even while desensitized to literally everything else. “I’m right here, Adam. Stay with me, okay?” Jonah’s voice softened, now realizing that maybe his original panic in his voice could possibly alarm Adam even more.

Several objects and belongings flew out of the backpack as Jonah tossed them aside, making sure he went through at least every pocket to find the epinephrine pen, promising himself to go through it twice if he didn’t see the orange capsule. His hopes and prayers were heard as he finally spotted the long, orange object. “Found it!” He cheered worryingly as he took out the object, now maneuvering Adam’s had into his lap as he also turned around, the struggle to breathe still evident in his voice. Jonah vigorously shook the pen before popping the blue cap off and pulling Adam’s leg slightly outward, no hesitation when forcing the thick needle of the pen into his thigh.

Adam let out a bit of a broken squeak feeling the pierce of the object into his flesh, and sort of writhed and very slightly kicked. Jonah counted up for several seconds to make sure that the medicine all went in, and after he was able to indicate it was good, he ripped the needle out of Adam, who promptly grunted at the pain. Jonah put the cap back on, now pulling Adam inward and upward into his body, one hand onto Adam’s chest while the other interlocking with one of Adam’s hands. Looking at the hand he held, the little red bumps on them were surely prominent, which were surely hives that had broken in during the peak of the shock. Jonah’s own breath and heart rate had risen in speed, feeling his heart pounding loudly through his ears. He let out a sigh as after a minute, Adam’s body seemed to loosen up, sinking slightly deeper into his companion’s chest.

Once Jonah got the memo that Adam was stable, he wanted to reassure himself that Adam wasn’t going to do anything else, so he asked, “you good?”

Adam let out a little, pained grunt in response, similar to an “Mhm…”, his grip on Jonah’s hand tightening, allowing Jonah to feel better and know that Adam was gaining some strength back. “Do you need anything else? Maybe some water?”

Adam uttered a “yeah…” and Jonah pulled one of the bottles he’d thrown from the black backpack, unscrewing the cap and holding it to Adam, “need some help?” To which Adam responded, “I got it.”

Adam took little sips from the water, the gulps audible to Jonah, then placing the bottle down while Jonah screwed the cap back on the nozzle.

“‘M sorry about that…”

“About what? Having an allergic reaction? No, Adam. Don’t apologize for something you can’t control, bro! We’re just lucky we were prepared this time.”

Adam knew what he was implying with that, “sorry about last time, too.”

“Last time was my fault, Adam. I didn’t know about your allergy. If anything, I’m sorry about that.”

“You had to find out at some point, I guess. It’s better we had everything we needed now than before since the car’s not doing so hot right now.” His voice remained strained-sounding while speaking.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re alright. I’m going to check to make sure nothing else has apple in it.”

“Can we make sure we don’t tell Mabel this happened?”

Jonah understood the anxiety Adam had for the situation, “we’ll make a deal. I have to tell her that you’re allergic to apples, but I won’t tell her that it sends you into shock, aight? Is that okay?”

“…sure. I’d like it better if we just didn’t mention it at all.”

“We don’t mention it, and this happens again. But I won’t stress her out if it’s gonna stress you out. I know you feel bad.”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, well, you’ve probably lost your appetite. I’m still gonna eat some of the stuff she gave us.”

“No, I’m still sort of hungry. I think I can eat.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Just help me back on the couch— but I think I can get up on my own, maybe.”

“Still, I’m gonna help you.”

Jonah helped Adam to stand up, Adam quickly able to find his balance and nestle himself into the cushions once again, this time pushing the tub with the apple turnovers back as Jonah sat on the opposite side, taking the tub and reinserting the lid back on it. He looked into one of the other tubs, finding some premise sandwiches and…

He opened the said tupperware, pulling out another semi-circular, thinly- crusted item, then taking a bite into it, and tasting a savory cheese, tomato sauce, and meat encased in the soft-crusted shell.

“Adam. You’re not gonna believe this.”

Adam could already see what Jonah had in hand, and found it in him to laugh.

#the Mandela catalogue #Mandela catalogue #fanfic #the kiwi writes!? no way :O #adam murray #jonah marshall #allergic reaction #anaphylaxis #anaphylactic shock #could this be considered a sicfic?? anyone?? #Adam’s Apple Allergy Adventures™️ /j #angst fic #hurt/comfort #this will be up on ao3… someday #I mean #I dunno #kiwi pulls way too many all nighters wtffff #canon divergence

[her-soliloquies]

What a time to be alive!

If all of this happened just because Bradley was swinging his bat like it was a sword and the fact that he still REMEMBERS then I'm gonna bloody scream–

#merlin fandom never dies 'cause we as a nation believe merlin is alive among us somewhere and arthur is going to rise up someday #like yeah we are aware that it was just a show but WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN THAT IT WAS JUST A SHOW??? #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #bbc merthur #merlin x arthur #arthur x merlin #king arthur #bradley james #colin morgan #tumblr trends #ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanfic

[axemetaphor]

rest assured that even when I'm not thinking about him I am still thinking about him

#jdate #my art #doodles #john dies at the end #elam au #everybody loves a mystery #weredave has a special place in my heart. fat werewolves my beloved #hes a good boy (no he is not) #i finished this au like. last year??? and he still lives rent free in my head. #btw since i have seen new people in the tags um: Everybody Loves A Mystery is an au fic i have on ao3 #it is basically 'what if: cheesy campy 80s movie ft. the jdate cast. and also its explicitly gay' #i had a follow up sci fi au planned for it but it never got off the ground. maybe ill revisit that someday...

[belethlegwen]

The Stranding - Chp 68 - O Captain, The Captain

Good morning my friends,

It has been... =looks at calendar=

Y'know what, we're just gonna ignore that.

The Stranding has been updated for all of your reading pleasure <3 As a vague celebration of me finally being finished with the moving-out aspect of my current life stage.

I can't promise that I'll have more time to write, or that I'll even get what I have currently written up on any kind of a schedule, but. I have this, and I am proud I managed to scrape out this much in the turmoil of everything since December 27th.

Please enjoy <3

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t author #g/t writing #gtauthor #author thoughts #gentle giantess #gt #big little thoughts #The Stranding #AO3 update #new chapter #What up Daniel #This crooked man is here to let everyone know he is boss and he is DISPLEASED #[and he doesn't like to be touched] #Someday my life will be stable again #That is the dream #and then I shall write forever and ever and ever #hooray <3

[nepttunnee]

rick riordan let annabeth and percy get ugly and old!! let them get wrinkly and have arthritis and say back in my day!! let them knit and play bingo and gossip about ppl they knew in highschool!! i beg of you.

#pjo #percy jackson #somedays you wake up and write 12k of a growing old together ff #fanfiction #ao3 #annabeth chase

[redrobin-detective]

You better learn it fast, you better learn it young 'cause someday never comes

Father was coming. Months and months of waiting for him to reach out and, finally, Father was coming home. It wouldn't be to stay, no, he had his own life outside of the ice. As much as Ice Thing who had once been Gunter and before that Orgalorg missed him, they knew father had earned his flesh and freedom back. The crown had been Father's prison but it was Ice Thing's bright new future. Once upon a time, they would have never been satisfied with this; paltry powers and a minor kingdom but Father's influence had shown them the beauty of a simple life.

"Come on everyone, Father and the others will be here any minute and I want this place spotless," Ice Thing announced, clapping their way through the hoard of penguins careful not to jostle them. They were the master now but Ice Thing would always be one of them.

"Wenk," Guntilla said, flapping her fins.

"No, he's just visiting and if we want him to visit again everything needs to be perfect," Ice Thing explained impatiently.

"Wenk, wenk," Goonder noted bitterly.

"Don't talk about him like that, he may look and act different but he's still our father. I expect all of you to be on your best behavior or we'll have no snacks or cuddles tonight and that's a promise," the rest of the penguins wenked in dismay and hastily went back to cleaning the Ice Palace. They were just putting the final touches on the charcuterie board when there was a knock at the door.

"Oh they're here!" Ice Thing exclaimed, "Gonther, Ginty, open the door and let our guests in." They stood in the entryway holding the ice board of snacks when the group shuffled in. Big sister Marceline - elder only in years as Father's child and not in age- and younger brother Finn were there followed by friend Jake. The Candy Princess was absent, Ice Thing was neither surprised or unsurprised given her bad history at this palace. Father was hanging towards the back of the group, looking shyly around the place. He had on an obnoxiously big coat with his hands stuffed under his armpits. He was using the coat more as a shield than out of any desire for warmth.

"Welcome! Welcome!" Ice Thing exclaimed, shoving the ice tray into Jake's hands so they could shake everyone's hands. "I was delighted to get your message; I'm so happy you guys could come. Please stay as long as you like, here have some snacks, have anything you want. The fruit of the Ice Kingdom is yours for the picking!"

"Thank you for having us," Father said quietly. His mouth quirked up into a little smile as some of the penguins waddled up to him and flapped at his knees. "And hello there, how have you all been?"

"Wenk," Gunder elaborated. Father blinked in confusion at the various chirpings. Ice Thing had worried Father would lose his affinity for Penguinese along with, well, everything else. The others would be so disappointed but they'd deal with that particular heartbreak later.

"He says he's better now that you're home," Ice Thing translated before hastily continuing when they saw father's grim expression. "Of course I've explained that this is just a visit." They reinforced to the penguins still mobbing Father. "Father doesn't live here anymore, he has his own home to return to. He's here to collect his things from the Past Room, remember?"

"Father?" Marceline muttered under her breath with a guarded look.

"I mean it makes sense, Simon or wait I guess he was Ice King back then was always babying these guys and calling himself Daddy and stuff sooooo," Jake continued. He opened his jaw wide and ate the entire charcuterie board, ice tray included. "So I guess you don't speak penguin anymore, huh?"

"I guess not," Father said, hands awkwardly hovering over the heads of his penguins, children who had not seen him for months on end and demanded attention. Some begged for forgiveness for whatever kept him away from home. Some screamed at his absence, at his change. Some wept, believing he no longer loved them. Father, ignorant to their chittering, looked up at Ice Thing with poorly disguised anxiety.

"Gunter," Ice Thing said to his second in command. "Please show our guests to the Past Room so they can get stared. Ice boxes are all set for you down there. I'll let Father take what he needs from his bedroom and he'll join you downstairs soon."

"Why the rush? I think we should all go together?" Marceline frowned. They didn't know what she was jealous of when Father clearly favored her best.

"Marcy, come on, let them have some alone time. I think they got some Daddy-Alien Penguin Child stuff to sort through," Finn loudly whispered which everyone heard. Father's tanned cheeks turned an embarrassed red but said nothing. "Alright Gunter 2, lead the way!" He spun around to follow after the penguin and the others followed leaving Ice Thing alone with his father. They'd missed him terribly but now that he was here, they had no idea what to say.

"Your room just as you left it, didn't touch a thing. It's always open to you, if you ever want to come back, for a visit or for longer. The Ice Kingdom will always be your home," Ice Thing explained cheerily as he showed him the path Father undoubtedly knew. Father was silent as he walked quietly behind them.

"The penguins have missed you," so did I, went unsaid. "I'm sure they would love it if stopped by more often, or even just called."

"I didn't mean to abandon them," Father said slowly, carefully. "I will admit I was scared of coming back, afraid that being here would - I don't know - make me turn into him again or something. I didn't forget about them or you, I-I guess I hadn't framed our relationship as you had."

"You hate the Ice King," Ice Thing said, their voice becoming rough and losing it's whimsy as they stood in the entryway of his father's former bedroom. Blue mumus, various colored pencils and cracked ice sculptures were littered on the floor, unmoved since their owner last threw them there. Ice Thing had stood in this doorway many times, intending on tidying up the space but found they could not touch their father's abandoned possessions. Then he really would be gone.

"I don't really hate-"

"You deny all the things he loved in order to separate yourself from him. You stay with sister Marceline and care for brother Finn but we were your children the longest and instead you shun us." Ice Thing stated coldly, staring ahead into the vacant room and not at the familiar imposter beside him.

"The Ice King was silly and kind and full of feelings he could not understand much less control. But he was, more than everything, my beloved father. I understand he was not you and you were not him but you are the only thing that remains of him and so I must either build a relationship with you from broken scraps or accept that he is lost forever." They finally turned to look at the pale, stricken human. "My daddy is gone but I am willing to make due with a father if you are."

"Gunter," Father whispered softly, staring into Ice Thing's crystalline eyes. Father may have changed but his eyes were still pale wizard blue and just as sad. He wordlessly opened his arms and Ice Thing -a king and a god but also a parentless child - shuffled forward into his embrace. He was warm. It felt wrong but also strangely right.

"I'm so sorry," Father took a deep steadying breath. "I don't mean to but somehow I end up leaving the people I love behind. I know it must be strange to see me like this but the man I was... I was so miserable and confused and out of control. It took so long to escape from the crown that I kept away from anything reminding me of my old life. I wanted to be my own person outside of his craziness but by doing so I lost my connection to all the good things I had as Ice King and you all were one of my good things." Father pulled back and looked up at them.

"I'll be better. I'll stop by more often and bring treats and generally be more present. I... Daddy promises," he said awkwardly trying to infuse his old self into the words. But the attempt fell flat into the air, sinking like the dust on his father's old life. Ice Thing appreciated it but they had already made peace with their loss. They had watched Father and Marceline circle each other miserably for centuries. That would not be them.

"Thank you, Father," Ice Thing said, gently squeezing his father's delicate human shoulders. "Please take what you'd like from this room but I'm going to leave for you in case you need it. As I said, the Ice Kingdom was once yours and its lights will always be on for you. And if you ever need to talk, let us say I know what it's like to have your loved one changed and gone before your eyes."

"Yes, I suppose you do," Father muttered mostly to himself. "What did I ever do to deserve such kind children?"

"It was how you raised us," Ice Thing responded. They watched as Father took in the room, running his hands over the dust covered objects like they were ancient artifacts to be studied instead of his own belongings. He looked over at the drums hastily shoved into the corner and tapped a knuckle roughly on one of the cymbals which echoed through the room. "Do you still play?"

"I never learned how to play the drums," Father sighed. "Ice King did that all on his own. I never felt a calling to learn the drums but I guess it suited him. I-I think I remember songs, hours and hours of practice and how to hold a beat but I haven't touched them since I changed back. Not sure I really know how anymore."

"You taught me or rather you talked out loud enough as you learned that I picked up the basics. We could play together sometime, like you and Marceline do. Maybe one day we could play as a family." Ice Thing offered. Father smiled at him, sweet but also sad. 

"I would love to, honestly but I think I need more time before I'm ready to step back into those shoes again. I'm sorry, Gun- Ice Thing, really I am, but right now it's quite difficult to even stand in this room. I need to be Simon again before I can think about being Ice King." Disappointed but not surprised, Ice Thing led Father out of his former room and towards the stairs to the Past Room with the others.

Father was alive but it was different than before. Ice Thing had no hopes that he would ever return to being Ice Thing's beloved if complicated Daddy. It stung, an ache that reached deep into their icy heart. Father would visit and he would laugh with them and maybe, one day, he would even play the drums with them again. But it would never be the same. It was up to all of them to accept this new reality, for all the good and bad that came with it.

"Let's bring some more snacks down, if Finn doesn't have something to distract himself he's going to cause problems trying to get the car working," Ice Thing commented.

"The car?" Father blinked, "just what do I have down there? I can't even remember."

"I guess we'll find out together."

#adventure time #simon petrikov #ice thing #i cannot BELIEVE I am getting emo over Ice Thing #they have a surprisingly healthy view of the situation and I believe its bc they're crazy old - older than marceline and way less human #but they still lost their daddy bc Ice King may have been a crazy nuisance but Gunter and the rest LOVED him as he was #Simon is back but there is a cost #Gunter and the pengies are def Simon's kids and don't you forget it #Ice Thing/Simon is like Ice King/Marcy and it makes me so sad #also just in general how our relationship with our parents change as we age #we can form new relationships as adults but its not the same as it was #I was talking about something similar to my therapist over how Ive lost my old relationship with my dad and now Im saddddd #Ice Thing just wants his Daddy but Simon has 99 complexes in a trenchcoat he needs to address before he can meet IT halfway #up on AO3 #song is someday never comes by CCR about abandoning fathers

[factorialsotherfandoms]

QSMP x XCOM AU, finally some plot! (Though you'll have to wait for the plot in this one to get explained...) (Kinda suprised I got this done. Entirely uneditted as I'm leaving in 10 minutes)

This is still pretty early. Post Pac&Mike, pre-Cellbit. Infact, you may see Cellbit referenced a little... Jaiden, Bad, Foolish, Fit, and Philza explore a Federation Facility they were lead to by mysterious coordinates found tucked into a hidden supply cache...

TW: major character injury, background character death, corpses, violence

(Chapter 1/2, idk when 2 will be done but all the mission is contained here)

Following coordinates left by a spy of unknown origin is a fool’s errand, but then Foolish /has/ been assigned to the mission. Said sniper has taken it upon himself to distract Bad at every opportunity possible, and so Jaiden has stolen his command.

She presses on ahead, scouting the paths and signalling for people to follow. The low hills they arrived on give way to a road, and that is where she pauses.

3 fingers - an order to wait.

Fit crouches behind a fence, careful to make sure his grenade launcher is hidden, and squints for what she saw.

“Two guards and a sectoid,” she murmurs, Foolish hops down and into earshot. “Chances are as soon as we hit them, there will be alarms.”

“Can we sneak around?” Fit asks.

He is not against triggering the alarms and making some horrific noise, but they are here to investigate primarily. Tripping the security immediately… It’s a good way for any clues to get blown up.

Fit would know.

Blowing shit up is usually his job.

“We could try?” Jaiden chews on her lip. “But they seem to be going up and down the train tracks. Can’t see the building yet, if there even is one.”

“We should be fine,” Bad shakes his arms down a little, adjusting his grip. “Take them out fast, don’t let them call for help? A little surprise for them?”

“Up I go, then! Later!” Foolish is already crossing the road to a nearby petrol station, scrambling up to the roof.

They give him a moment to get into place, all analysing the terrain. Standard practice would be to have most of the group line up their shots, then Jaiden to distract the enemies by running straight in. As soon as they duck out of cover to deal with her…

Well Fit’s weapons are /messy/, but the others are all damned good shots.

Jaiden waits for everyone to confirm they are ready, then leaps out of her hiding spot. The Feds and their pet all turn their attention to her, stepping out of their cover to greet her.

It is their mistake.

One guard is down before it hears the gunfire, the other just as it turns to look. The sectoid tries to bolt, causing Philza’s bullet to only graze its shoulder, only for Jaiden to slice through its throat as it does. 

A shot from Foolish’s rifle puts an end to the other.

Fit checks for more danger, and sees none. Beyond the trees he can see what looks like factory smoke - likely their target. To the left, right, and behind is clear, leaving only onwards.

“All clear,” he tells them, and starts moving on.

Only to turn and realise everyone has frozen.

“Guys?” he asks.

Bad breaks out of it first, shaking his head, “ah, muffins.”

Fit tilts his head in a question.

“The Assassin,” Bad taps at his head. “Didn’t you hear her?”

Fit shakes his head, “not a thing.”

The others shake off the effect too, frowning at one another.

“Well,” it’s Jaiden who tilts her head. “If she doesn’t want us here specifically, that means we’re on track, right?”

“Right,” Philza nods. “And she’s still a bit off, yet; Niki mentioned good scrubland for landing around the back, just too close to be subtle, so it’s probably where she arrived too.”

“Did you train in the Wastelands to not get this bullshit or something?” Foolish asks. “Because, damn, not hearing her would be good.”

Fit looks at Philza.

Philza looks back.

“Something like that,” Fit says. “Takes too long to teach anyone, though.””

“Guys, let’s just get on with this,” Jaiden stretches. “She’s here now; we deal with her if she gets close. Just like always, right?”

“Yup!” Bad has Ghostie shift modes, his robot now joining Philza’s crow in keeping watch. “Let’s not give them time to sort their muffins into line.”

The rest agree, falling into formation, and Fit still is not entirely sure what they heard, but… 

Well, if it was important, Philza would have said. 

---

Beyond the treeline is a railway track, and beyond the track is a building made of concrete and steel. The emblem of the Federation sits proudly on the front, clearly marking out their target. Unlike city facilities it has no main front door, only two small side ones.

And outside of it are crates upon crates, scattered and stacked up. Every crate has a metal frame, but some sort of clear plastic reveals the green glow inside. On the sidings of the railway tracks is a flatbed cargo carriage, also stacked up with them, but those ones have a tarp pulled over to hide the worst of the glow.

And inside each and every crate, there is a perfectly intact human form.

“The fudge,” Fit breathes out.

He is not the only one, the group quiet and faces grim.

Hesitantly, Philza approaches the closest of the exposed crates. He kneels besides them, his Crow sat atop and looking down. He frowns as he looks first at his bird, and then at the screen giving him readouts from it.

And then he is still, very still, just quietly breathing and eyes skimming text as his Crow hops between the stacks of crates, taking readings both for records and Philza’s consumption.

Breathe in, breathe out; Philza is rarely so quiet.

It is… concerning.

Fit kneels beside him, listening to the others shuffle and looking at his old friend.

“Phil?” he asks.

“Dead,” Philza doesn’t even look up from the screen on his glove. “All of them are dead.”

Fit stands again, looking over the crates. If this many are stacked outside…

“And the goo?” Jaiden asks.

Philza shakes his head, and Foolish shrugs. Now he looks properly, Fit can see that they both also look a little shaken.

“We’re too late,” Jaiden replies. “All these people…”

“We’d need to run samples, but I think… I think we found the missing civilians.”

“Fudge, Max!” Bad turns sharply to Foolish.

“Max…?” Foolish replies. “Oh, fuuuuuck. Fuck, okay, we’ll just… You break it gently to him, alright?”

“Do you think we could…?” Jaiden starts, before shaking her head. “There’s too many of them.. I…”

“Take a moment,” Fit advises, knowing that, of the five of them, only he and Philza have much experience with the sort of tortures that the Federation call ‘science’. “We can’t help these people, but we can stop the fuckers taking anyone else. Breathe through it, and get fucking angry.”

Jaiden curls in on herself, while what little of Bad’s face can be seen is grim. Foolish is the one who takes the advice to heart, kicking at one of the low walls. Fit and Philza keep watch; everyone has known civilians dying before, hell the sanctuaries have been attacked often enough. But that is in fire and blood and anger, while these…

These crates, the putting of every corpse into it’s own storage container of goo, nearly piled outside a facility presumably for some sort of processing…

Well, it takes a few minutes, the first time. Emotions should be processed later, but you gotta get them into the boxes somehow.

But they do not have minutes, only seconds, because more trouble will arrive soon enough

Philza is the one to break the quiet, taking a deep breath and looking inwards to the group once again. “We need to-”

Whatever he was about to say, he cuts himself off as he drops to his knees. Above him, right where his neck had been, a long sword swipes through the air. As it does, an arm - a torso, a head - flicker into vision.

Purple skinned, hair pulled back, armour in red and black, two swords - Assassin.

“Good reflexes,” she twitches her head as she speaks, lips pulled in a mockery of - or maybe attempt at - a smile. "I had hoped your kind would never stumble across this facility, you know? Some things are best left unknown. But, now you have seen it… I cannot permit you to leave. Prepare yourselves."

As if.

Philza glances over, and Fit catches his eye. It’s a little dark but, while the Assassin talks about how wonderful it will be to kill them all, he nods.

Fit adjusts his gun.

Philza pulls a knife from his toolbelt.

It isn’t a combat knife, not really, but it still cuts flesh well as Philza sinks it into the Assassin’s ankle. He darts back, and Fit knows how this goes.

He opens fire.

The Assassin cuts off her words at the storm of bullets, a nasty hit to the shoulder as she jumps over the fence and into cover. Jaiden follows, cursing out her opponent with knife in hand.

Mud is kicked up and into Jaiden’s eyes, blinding her - and the following Foolish - just long enough for the Assassin to pull out her cloaking device.

Fit cannot fire, not with his allies so close, but Bad can. A shot from the rifle lands squarely in the Assassin’s back right as she fades from view.

“FUCK!” Jaiden yells. “Shit! Where is she?!”

The answering laughter echoes around.

“Is she gone?” Foolish asks. “Wait, no, she’s not gone. Stay close.”

Even though he knows that he will never see her coming, Fit still keeps glancing from side to side. His skin crawls with eyes on his back, the very familiar sensation of being hunted down his spine. Philza looks just as edgy, eyes a little wild as he presses against Fit’s good side.

The five form a circle, all looking out, guns ready for trouble when it comes.

And they wait.

And they wait.

And they wait, until Bad sighs and shifts his gun a little.

“She isn’t coming,” he says. “She’s waiting for us to be distracted.”

“Do we wait for her to get bored? Or press on?” Jaiden is equally as shifty, eyes narrowed as she looks arond.

“She doesn’t get bored,” Philza’s voice is a little distant. “If we wait, they’ll just bring more of the fuckers in.”

And that’s damned the problem, isn’t it?

All five pairs of eyes turn to the door, and then at everybody else. They need to enter, they know they need to, but with the Assassin in play… It’s a fucking death trap.

Fit looks at his companions again.

He is about to offer, when Jaiden nods, and pushes back her shoulders.

“I’ll go,” she says, already pulling out her sword. “Foolish?”

Foolish cocks a pistol, “always.”

The two of them enter, side by side. Fit positions himself behind them, ready for them to slip to either side of the door and allow him to fire on whatever is within. Foolish does, firing a few rounds from his pistol. Jaiden… sort of does, jumping over some scattered technology and charging an enemy out of sight.

Fit, however, cannot see whatever problem they have seen; he makes sure that Philza is keeping an eye out for threats from the outside, and also presses on in.

First assessment - threats. Three MECs, standing in some sort of algae-coloured water. Four Federation Guards to the right, one senior two with stun batons. Two sectoids and another guard to the left, Jaiden already there with sword in one hand, rifle in the other, and sparring all three at once.

Second assessment - location. Copper and brass looking technology, glowing in sickly green. There are walkways around the edge of a pool of tainted water, and the back wall consists of hundreds upon hundreds of giant tubes. Each is filled with glowing green.

Each contains a human corpse.

Third assessment - next action. Even if Jaiden somehow cannot manage two sectoids and a guard, an automatic fire submachine gun is not going to help her there. The other guards are A Problem, but MECs? MECs are his specialty.

The best cover he is getting is the sheet metal serving as a bannister for the walkway - MECs don’t care, not with small-scale rocket launchers, and those Guards are busy coming closer anyway. He hefts the gun onto the railing - he can support it himself, especially with the prosthetic, but he likes having knees - and lets loose.

Somewhere behind him, the door closes. Bad’s Ghostie drifts over, stunning the MEC not caught in the hail of bullets, while Fit hears the very familiar sound of a grenade exploding somewhere near the group of four guards. He does not have the luxury of protecting his own back, but they will all have to do.

“Do not touch the liquid!” Bad calls the group as Ghostie swoops back to him. “It eats flesh!”

Jaiden seems to take that warning as inspiration, because right after she yells “got it!”, one of the sectoids is flipped over the railing, and sent screaming into it.

It’s not an acid, any acid working that fast would surely damage at least the paintwork on the MECs, but it’s fucking grim. Something enzyme based? Fit’s seen some people try that sort of shit in the Wasteland, but never get it to work.

Might be, might not be; that’s not really Fit’s job.

He knows that some of the Order - Maxo, mostly, though Missa has been convinced to carry them too - do fancy shit with bluescreen bullets and EMP grenades. Fit, though? Fit likes to do this the old fashioned way. Just filling the fuckers full of lead.

Highly specialised, sharpened lead, designed to tear through metal with even more ease than flesh, but lead nonetheless.

He takes one down, dives under cover to avoid the small rockets another fires at him, and takes a smattering of shrapnel to the arm. He wears proper armour unlike some people he could mention, and it’s far enough away that it does not cut all the way through, but it certainly leaves scorch marks across the fabric.

It is nothing that accounts for how, as he stands, Philza screams, “Fit! Look out!”

Fit turns, and sees nothing; both MECs are reloading, the sectoids are dead and the guards are engaged. Maybe a late call about the rockets, but-

A cold chill runs down his spine.

“Your training fails you,” a voice whispers in his ear. He turns, catching the eyes of the Assassin as her cloaking device flickers off. He grabs at her, twisting himself away.

Cold, hard steel punctures through his armour.

He does not look. Fit does not look, but he can feel how her sword enters his back just below his ribs, curving up and escaping just after the next one.

One, two, three.

Waiting for the pain to kick in, Fit takes careful breaths around the blade. He’s survived worse. He’s survived worse. They’ve fought her off before. There are potions and medics right there. Don’t panic, do not panic, panic and you die.

And then the rips out the blade.

The agony hits, and Fit drops to his knees, pressing his hands to the wounds and gasping for air.

It hurts, it hurts, it /hurts!

“Take comfort,” she whispers to him, wiping his blood from her blade, “for there is dignity in death to a superior opponent.”

Fit closes his eyes.

A clash of steel.

From the floor he struggles them open again. 

Foolish is between him and the Assassin, her blades caught on his pistols. Jaiden, sprinting over, slashes down her back and the fight moves away.

“Phil!” Foolish yells. “And you, bitch, get away from him!”

With his assailant distracted and a bleeding tear through his chest, Fit pushes himself backwards, behind a counter. Worse place to fire from, but better cover. He runs on instinct, blood pooling inside him and leaving a trail across the floor. Hide, heal, get safe - he’s had worse, he’s had fucking worse, just fucking breathe.

(Or don’t because, shit, he has no idea how to tell if she caught his lung).

Moments later, Philza’s Crow stumbles a landing beside him. He can see the splash potion already prepared, the pink liquid in the throat of the robotic bird.

He lifts a hand, letting it apply it to the front, before shifting just enough to apply it to the back. Almost immediately the numbing component takes effect; now the burning is gone, he collapses once again. He can hear Foolish swearing as he fights, Bad answering just as instinctively, the clang of sword-on-sword, and the steady fire of either Bad or Philza’s rifle as the other enemies are kept at bay.

It’s Bad’s; as the weapon is still firing, Philza slides around the counter, medical bag already open and hanging off his shoulder.

“Fit?” he asks.

Fit gives him a somewhat listless thumbs up, “right here, Phil. Potion got the bleeding, just waiting for the painkillers, you know?”

“Right,” some of the tension in Philza’s shoulders drops as he examines the wound. He grimaces, but grabs some dressings and starts peeling off the backs. “Don’t have time to stitch this, with all this crap going on. Think you can manage until we get the fuck out of here?”

“You know me, Phil,” Fit hears the sounds of the fighting slowing down, the MECs no longer firing. “I’ve survived worse with less.”

He probably deserves the way Philza jabs his thumbs into old, tender scars as he tugs the skin together, and applies the dressings. The potion will deal with the blood, at least until the nanites run out of power. Then it’s just… Just keeping the wound sealed enough to breathe.

“Keep weight off it when you can,” Philza tells him, adding tape despite the dressings having adhesive. “As soon as we get to evac, you’re lying down and letting me look at this shit.”

There isn’t really time to agree. Fit is certain Philza was about to tell him to let someone else carry his heavier kit, only to be interrupted by Bad screeching in pain.

Philza is cursing and running before Fit has a chance to process the ungodly sound.

Still, needs must. Despite his wound, despite the painkillers not yet quite being fully working, despite the nanites still spreading into the bloodstream and stabalising the wound, allowing him to breathe, Fit pulls himself to his feet. Feeling a little weak he hoists his gun onto the counter.

It’s awkward to work like this, but he can; he directs his attention to the last of the Sectoids, and lets loose a hail of bullets.

It falls, and Fit looks around.

Jaiden is adjusting one of her vambraces, while Foolish reloads his pistols. Bad looks a little dizzy, but waves off Philza’s hands and drinks one of his own potions rather than apply it to whatever wound he has. Crow rests on some of the rails separating the walkways from the liquid, and Ghostie floats in its place.

The MEC wrecks in the liquid stand untouched, but the Fed whose corpse fell into it is slowly dissolving away.

“We good?” Foolish asks the group. “We forced a respawn, so she shouldn’t be back anytime soon.”

“I’m good to go on,” Fit replies, even as the others somewhat hesitantly confirm.

Whatever they are looking for, well… The missing civilians were some of it, and fuck this - fuck all of this - but the rest… Whatever their contact sent them to get? It’s in the back, isn’t it?

“Fit, you got explosives?” Bad asks.

“Do I have explosives,” Fit deadpans back. “What do you take me for, Bad, a reasonably human being? Of course I have fucging explosives.”

The slip gets him a look, but Bad must be feeling shitty as he allows it to pass, “we wanna meet up with Niki, right? Can you make a door in the back wall while we check that room out?”

A door?

“You won’t be able to close it,” he warns.

“Oh that’s fine,” Bad smiles a bit. “We don’t need to leave this place intact.”

“Just tell me where you want it, then.”

“Hm… Back wall, to the right? I saw an internal door there you can duck around once it’s set!”

“Perfect,” Fit ignores Philza’s glare, and hoists his gun back over his shoulder. “You four headed to that lab looking room?”

“Yup,” Foolish pops the p as he speaks. “See you in five!”

Fit waves his acknowledgement, waiting for the four of them to start heading over. Once they’re close enough to the back for any aliens in the last room to jump them and not him, Fit starts the other way around the walkway.

Alone, now, he can see how the liquid is not just dissolving the corpse, but is glowing as it does so. Bubbles he sort of expected, but glowing is fucking weird; even if they have to take samples of this shit, he isn’t touching it. Tubbo with glowing flesh dissolvant? Could probably make it work, but half of the field agents can’t be trusted to handle grenades, let alone that stuff.

Examining the wall Bad asked for a hole making in, Fit finds a couple of weak points. The area around the window is surprisingly well reinforced, especially given that the section next to it is cracked. Outside, a short, muddy cliff where the facility was cut into a slope, leading up to some shrubland beyond.

The facility is not exactly hidden, but why do the Feds need to hide the damn thing, when they already rule the world?

Despite the cracked section and the reinforcement, Fit still elects to lay the explosives around the window; upon examining the cracks, damaging that bit of wall further would just bring the roof down on them. If his maths is right - and Fit’s explosives maths is always right - he should be able to blow out the window and the section of wall below it, while keeping the top of the frame in place. It would be easier to just blow it out from the window but, again, the structural integrity of a shitty concrete job.

Given everything going on in this facility he’s a bit surprised the walls are /this/ bad, but perhaps the Federation enjoys cutting corners more than they enjoy their horrific science experiments going to plan.

Just through the wall beside him, Fit can hear the intense debate of the others. The wall muffles it a little too much to hear specifics, but it means they’ll be done soon.

It’s for the best; Fit really, really does not want to be stuck on the helicopter still when the painkillers wear out.

Careful of his wound, he sets the charges. He checks and double checks, before heading over to the room with the others. Enters, latches the door behind him, and moves away from it.

“Charges set,” he informs the group, already taking in the room.

It is a lab, yes, though of copper and brass looking faintly sickly in the glowing green light. Large vials of softly glowing liquid line the walls, feeding into some sort of device. The device runs through the walls and the floor, and up into a plinth in the centre.

On that plinth, being fed into by the processor, is a glass cylinder, barely larger than a syringe, filled with something viscous.

“Just a minute,” Foolish replies to Fit. “They’re arguing about if we grab whatever they’re extracting from the stuff outside or not.”

“The people,” Jaiden elaborates. “What they’re taking from the people.”

“We have to,” Bad is the one looking closest at it. “I don’t have anything to analyse it here, and it has to be important, right?“

“It looks like nitroglycerine,” Philza is frowning. “I’m not sure it’s /safe/ to touch that.”

Safety’s a bit laughable with the amount of blood covering everyone, but Fit understands the point.

Still, they gotta do what they gotta do.

Foolish seems in agreement with that sentiment; he ignores the continuing debate to simply walk over and grab the vial.

An entirely new set of alarms goes off, causing mildly irritated groans to pass around the group; it’s just loud.

Anything the others say with it going on, Fit doesn’t hear; years of working with explosives will do that, even if you have the sort of protection Fit has only recently learnt exists.

“Alright,” Fit waves for attention from the din. “Away from the door. I don’t think it’ll blow through, but this place is crap. I’ve seen lean tos more stable than this.”

In the Wasteland, sure, but that still means they were put up in ten minutes and not meant to last longer than a night.

There is not a lot of cover in this room, but they make do; Foolish and Philza, the least injured of the five, tuck themselves into the corners, using the wall itself as a shield. Fit, Jaiden, and Bad? They just about manage to be entirely covered by the machinery feeding into the glass. It’s not much better than the wall, but it’s made of metal and not shit concrete.

Fit gives a count of three for them to cover their ears, and hits the detonator.

The door does not blow in, and the walls do hold, but even with all his calculations the ceiling does crack. It doesn’t fall, though, so he considers it a win. They let the dust settle, then scramble back up.

“You three get out first, we’ll cover you,” comes Philza’s order.

With even more alarms and reinforcements surely on the way, there is no point in arguing or quibbling over who is incharge; Foolish passes Bad the vial, and the trio run.

Well, no, Fit cannot run - while the painkillers are working, the numbing effect has worn off. It hurts again, now, and he can feel where movement tugs at the dressings. Bad sees him stumble and offers an arm, helping him on while Jaiden runs ahead to lay the flares and call Niki back down.

They do not talk, busy with the necessity of movement. Behind them, Fit hears Philza swearing. Bad calls back a ‘language’, and Fit only hopes that Philza has the time to flip him off in return.

It takes forever and no time at all for Niki to appear and drop the ladder. Jaiden does not immediately scramble up, instead waiting for the two of them, picking off any aliens which escape Philza and Foolish’s aims.

Fit lets go of Bad, letting him climb up first. It takes a minute and some deep breathing to prepare himself, but Fit can find it in himself to follow.

He can almost feel the wound tear as he does.

At the top, Bad grabs his arm, hoisting him into the helicopter proper. Fit does not even bother getting to a chair, merely rolling out of the way of the hatch and cussing up a storm.

Bad does not scold him, and that’s a grim thought.

“Sorry,” he still says, when the man approaches. “Stings like a, um, muffin.”

“We’ll handle that later,” Bad sounds chipper, but he frowns as he checks on the dressings and sees blood. Two black hands, nails too long for gloves, press down on it.

Fit grunts, and leans back, watching as Jaiden swings herself in. She strips off her armour, grabbing one of the helicopter’s medical kits to bandage herself up. She looks exhausted; Fit feels it too.

It’s not long after that that Philza and Foolish appear. Fit offers them a wave, as Foolish pulls up the ladder and Philza comes over.

“How is it?” Philza asks.

“The dressings are bloody,” Fit replies. “Still had worse.”

“Well, fuck,” Philza takes over from Bad, who excuses himself to go sit with Foolish. “Pain levels?”

“I’ll live.”

“Fit.”

“What do you want me to day?” Fit asks. “It’s better than the last time I got stabbed through the gut?”

It is not exactly reassuring words for either of them.

“Alright, fuck, I think we have soluble stitches in one of these. Should hold until we get back and someone can fix you up proper,” Philza roots around in his bag, pulling out a couple of packets. “Wouldn’t recommend being conscious, though.”

Being unconscious while injured and on the transport? No fucking way.

“Phil,” Fit just says.

“I know, I know, I just have to fucking say it,” he opens one of the packets, rips off the top layer of dressing, and presses something gooey into the wound. “Try not to bleed out.”

“Trying my fucking best.”

Phil gives him a thin smile. That’s the last of the helicopter ride that Fit actually remembers, except for the fact he did make it back to the Avenger conscious, if delirious.

#qsmp x xcom #qsmp fanfic #qsmp fit #qsmp philza #qsmp bbh #qsmp foolish #qsmp jaiden #i'll ao3 it after deadlands either tonight or in the morning #enjoy my poor attempts at writing combat #the next scene is pac and mike debriefing fit because pac's also hurt and mike was helping with the analysis of the vial #maybe with some of the others #but yeah enjoy this! #this is genuine actual bonafida xcom plot #... i might someday try draw for this oen too but aaa #drawing is hard and i want to get it up #and don't have time #so maybe another day #much like the epilogue

[gerrydelano]

i'm pretty sure i just wrote 13k for no reason because this is incredibly fucking niche, like. hey what if danny "dead" stoker killed gerry "also dead" keay with a hammer during the unknowing and the entire archives crew falls apart (because gerry was the fucking archivist) (and was also fucking tim) and also callum brodie is there.

#r.txt #the callum scene makes me emo i cant wait to post this here #it can never go on ao3 because itll never make any sense #but also i dont wanna muck up my posting order yfm #so maybe like. someday. but not any time soon. #but for real WHO EVEN WANTS THIS LMAO

[johnslittlespoon]

alrighttt, i'm taking brainrot/drabble/whatever asks with these prompts (but unrelated asks are always open still ofc)!

feel free to combine multiple, to specify the pairing/roles or leave it open, lmk if you're chill with nsfw or not, etc etc <3 no request limit, i might not get to them all but i'll do my best! and please mention which list it's from so i can link it in the prompt fill x

feeling the writing vibes for buckbucky, curtbucky, curtbuck, curtbuckbucky, maybe an attempt at some margebuckbucky? would love to do others but i'm just still not confident in my characterization yet so i'll stick to my mains :-)

(also, lmk if you want it to be set in a specific au of mine bc that's fun too! you can find the list of aus in my pinned post :P)

here are the lists:

1. soft sentence starters <3

2. subtle suggestive smut prompts

3. smut dialogue prompts

4. smut phrase/action prompts

5. reasons to cup a face

6. hurt/comfort starters

7. assortment of dialogue prompts

8. various sentence starters

that's a lot LOL but i might add more if i stumble across other good ones <3

–> drabbles will be tagged with #johnslittlespoon prompt fills ♡

expand to check which prompts i've already done (but feel free to request with other ships if you have a unique idea for a reuse <3)

"Such a good little pup, aren't you?" – buckbucky

"Spread your legs baby, that's it... wider." – buckbucky

"Stay where you are, I'm coming to get you." + "Oh honey, you're safe now." + "Honey, have you been crying?" – buckbucky

"Such a good little pup." + "One more time! Please!" – curtbuck

♡ ♡ ♡

#johnslittlespoon prompt fills #i shall reblog if i end up adding more prompt lists #but i also have so many other asks to get back to still WHOOPS so if i'm slow to get to these my apologies lol #someday i'll clean up all my drabbles and make a book of oneshots for them on ao3 but i am Lazy #johnslittlespoon writes #johnslittlespoon prompts #buckbucky #curtbucky #curtbuck #curtbuckbucky

[burinazar]

It's a bit funny that to parts of my circles I'm 'the fandom one'/'the fanfic one'/'the shipping one' as the person they know most prominently into such things

because as much as i love writing my fics and shipping my ships my interest in both of those things is, I think, very narrow and specific compared to most people who are into them? due to my habits being like. very particular

#i think some ppl think of me as ahh my buddy who is always reading fanfic and i'm like. look. i would LIKE to be that. but i'm not #it's comically difficult to get me to sit down and read a new fanfic. for no discernable reason #the fandoms i like to read for don't even have big fic scenes but i've still checked out such a narrow portion of them #(and these fandoms are like. just a few. leaving aside MiA's dead tag. LOGH + T&B + Vorkosigan + ...anything else here would be a lie) #(Queen's Thief + Temeraire + TMA are on the backburner rn for reading fic but they were faves before yet i read SO little of what existed) #(everything else i just check out very occasionally or when directly recc'd) #i think mmmaaaybe 'my buddy who reads tons of fic' would be the case if there were new fics about the sages coming out every day #they're sort of a unique hyperfixation for me lol #but there are NOT. instead there are ((checks)) #four (4) english language belavue fics on AO3 that are not by me #AND two of them i would say do not actually have any ship content and were likely just tagged that to be safe #as far as non ship content there are ((checks again)) 21 English language fics tagged with Belaf and I wrote 13 of them ........ #(and 17 for Vueko and i wrote 10. two of the others barely mention her and shouldn’t be tagged lol) …guys i'm starving............ #ok you read to the bottom of the tags you get to hear a selfish wish #i kind of hope that someday...someone will...write some fic about the sages either because of me or for me #gen or ship it doesnt matter #but this kind of thing usually happens in AO3 exchanges though and there aren't ones in this fandom because the fic scene is so miniscule #i'm literally running one right now off AO3 but have a feeling it will end up being mostly art and also didn't put myself in as a requester #since the people participating have largely made stuff for me as gifts before and i have a glut of lovely work from them #and again that exchange will mostly end up being art i feel and not fic. but some other time... i still wish ... more fic... pleae..plaeabs #there are very specific reasons i don't want to host an MiA fic exchange through AO3. i can guess the kind of stuff some people will reques #(the kind of stuff that's already in the tag.) and it's not stuff i feel like moderating an exchange involving >_> so i won't #but god.. ... ..... someday......i hope....there can be an exchange where i ask for somethinga bout these people.............

[laundrybiscuits]

The first chapter of purify our misfit ways is now up on AO3, encompassing almost all the content posted to tumblr.

I’ve edited and expanded it a bit more heavily than usual, because I wrote a lot of the first draft while exhausted and miserably sipping an overpriced smoothie while killing six hours in my least favorite airport. Still sort of trying to figure out what I’m doing with this fic, so I may go back and edit it further, but I think it’s hit some kind of minimum threshold of acceptability and I basically wanted to overwrite the tumblr draft.

#stranger things fic #steddie #fic: purify our misfit ways #the next part of wait for the season is almost done too #I think it might close out the chapter but I need to review the chapter as a whole bc I think it’s shakier than the preceding material #at some point I may need a beta? but I’m honestly not sure if that would fuck with my carefully calibrated relationship to fandom-as-work #so I need to think about it more #think twice before going into The Creative Industries y’all; it can seriously fuck up your ability to find joy in making art #also: someday I may actually do better at ao3 link posts with like. summaries and shit. #today is not that day.

[solange-lol]

i cant bring myself to take down any of my old fics but blease they r so embarrasing...

#why did i think i was such an s tier solangelo writer when i was 13 LMAOO #the issue is i have so many real good ideas i just Cannot finish them for some reason #and then every time i look at ao3 its like #3 fics im proud of and then the rest #and theres freaking 50 fics #its like looking thru my old art but almost worse... #guys... guys. #ok thats it gn <3 will post a fic again someday #shut up liz

[dandylyins]

love's a stain

#kpruevvy #acofaf #my fanart #2022 #someday i will finish the thing this is referencing. and then i will refuse to shut up about it #edit: actually fuck it. if you see this and you're curious what it's referencing - long-forgotten on ao3

[ebbpettier]

i've never been tagged in one of these before this is VERY exciting

(tagged by @shrekgogurt)

caught this and threw it together REAL fast, it almost wasn't wednesday anymore by the time i realized i had notifications

i have a nasty little habit of outlining fics really ambitiously, writing a few thousand words, and then immediately psyching myself out about both the structure and quality, so i'm trying REALLY hard not to do that this time. frailty they name is accountability.

SPECIAL SHOUTOUT THOUGH: as of right now, @catofulthar000 is the sole progenitor of my motivation to write and i owe them for hyping up my drafts and regularly whacking the top of my hyperfixation like they're trying to restart an old radio

so, here's a little bit of everything!

the first is a snippet from a really long, very unstructured beast of a story wherein Simon Gets His Magic Back, But WrongTM. by volume, it's 70% whump, 20% recoveryfic, and 10% xenobiology stuff that probably qualifies as body horror if you look at it from far enough away

Here There Be Dragons

So I tell him, “We won’t then.”

I watched him cut off pieces of his childhood and feed them to a magickal trolley-problem. I’m not sure anyone ever even told him that there was a lever to switch the tracks; they just let him lay down on the rail and kissed his shoes, and thanked him for his sacrifice.

It's hard not to feel sick remembering the robotic way he used to lift his sword when he was exhausted but had to keep fighting. The switch, flipping between Simon and Chosen One whenever the air started to prickle.

I could pinpoint the exact moment, every time. He couldn’t be a person and a Messiah in the same breath. They wouldn't both fit in his body at once.

It’s a good thing none of that was ever my decision, or I would’ve just pulled the lever and let the world burn.

the second is one that i've been working on for longer, and i outlined the whole thing chapter by chapter for once. it actually started out as baz/reader/simon, but i gave up that ghost fast and just made the dude an original character at the behest of a friend.

the romance is much less overt, the lore is heavier, they never think to come in pairs, etc.

(at this point it's mostly just "MAN WE KNOW ALMOST NOTHING ABOUT GOBLINS HUH" and me bribing myself not to re-download grindr with labyrinth references and cool knives)

which is not to say that i won't be writing snowbazreader any time soon but for now the goblin prince is his own man

Thirteen O' Clock

I think I might have just lost Simon to a wandering pack of drag-mothers. I may never get him back now.

there's a lot of shit like this in the first chapter. ^ this fic legitimately is the most fun i've ever had writing baz dialogue and part of that might just be that he's complaining the entire time

On one hand; there’s something deeply satisfying, knowing that Simon’s head can’t be turned by anything in this room but me, and perhaps the Bombay Mix.  On the other hand; I’ve been mostly wallflowering while a steady stream of partygoers of all stripes do their level best to crawl directly into his trousers. (Thankfully to no avail.)

WHICH IS NOT TO SAY CERTAIN PARTS OF IT ARE NOT UTTERLY MISERABLE

“And that’s … like a care home?” I ask, tipping a little more water onto the rag.

He nods.

“Doesn’t help that everything down here is made of trash. No offense,” Simon quickly adds (even though I wouldn’t be offended), “It’s just familiar. Disposable forks and paper plates everywhere. And if you didn’t have a suitcase, whenever you moved homes they’d just give you one of those five-gallon bin bags to put your things in. Like they were telling you everything you owned was garbage.”

Both of us are silent after that. What is there to say? 

As much as I dislike Simon Snow–and lately, it’s been getting frustratingly hard to keep that up–the image makes my throat tighten. 

I don’t really know what a human child is supposed to look like, because I haven’t seen one up close yet, but I imagine they look like little wilted goblin babies. Brown and beige and small, with soft fingers and blunt teeth. 

I can imagine a small Simon. In my mind I give him downy curls and big eyes, and short scarless arms. I can imagine his chubby little wings--useless and round as a chicken’s--fluttering behind him when he toddles. I envision him dragging a little wooden sword behind him, too. A prince among paupers with paper plates.

i also have a much shorter, MUCH sillier one that's dedicated entirely to catofulthar000 because, lets face it, simon is a bit of an orange boy cat. and i think he should have more excuses to eat off the floor.

Everybody Wants To Be A Cat

Still. This could be my chance, and I’m not wasting it.

I’ve used this spell before. Everyone says songs are unstable, and they’re right, but it’s never given me any trouble; it got me through a cavern full of sleeping aggrobats in first year, and it’s one of the few spells I can usually pull off without anything going too wrong. 

“With catlike tread!”

I feel it catch me like a punch in the stomach and instantly know I’ve made a mistake.

it's been 84 years since i've heard the name crackfic ... and boy am i glad to see her.

I’m starting to get pretty hungry, but I’m not going to eat the dead mouse. Or the cricket. Baz can do as many rat keg-stands as he likes, I’m not desperate enough for vermin just yet. There’s a cereal-bar somewhere in my nightstand, but I don’t think cats can have chocolate. I’m not starved enough to risk potentially poisoning myself over it.

I’ll just have to wait. I can make a break for it and steal something else when he gets back and opens the door. For now, the best I can do is squirrel myself away under the bed with my wand between my teeth.

I don’t deny myself a piss in his posh loafers first, though. When in Rome.

having a little bit of each of them seen by someone other than my discord bubble is a little terrifying, but it's also REALLY motivating and i should post unfinished stuff more often

fuck knows i have a lot of unfinished stuff

i'm brand spanking new at posting my work, i don't really know anybody 'round these parts except in passing, and i am NOT sure what the tagging ettiquette is here, so: if you see this and you want to participate, consider yourself tagged!!

#WIP wednesday #HI I'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE #someday i will present my virgin ao3 account and ask u all to be gentle. but not today. #the pen is mightier #blows a kiss at the swamp. 4 shrekgogurt #thank you for including me i've been wanting to talk to people and make friends but i have internet stage fright #so i've just been hiding in my RP group and making up wild bullshit about how dragons work

[zukkaoru]

22 for mailee zukka or sokka & katara!!!

jupiter!! hello!! this is. about half as long as it would have to be if i wanted to fully capture the feeling of this song. but hopefully it's still alright since it's already uhhh kinda long

22. sincerely me - artist vs. poet + mailee

and i wish that you could see oh, what you do to me and i hope this letter covers everything i'm yours, sincerely me

word count: 1927

Mai,

Kyoshi Island is warm this time of year, but it’s still nothing compared to Caldera City. I think you’d like it here in spring, actually. All of the flowers are blooming and the snow is melting and it’s really very beautiful. One of the other warriors taught me how to press flowers, so I’ve included some with this letter. I don’t know the meanings like you do; I just picked ones I thought looked prettiest.

A group of us are leaving for Gaoling in a few days. We’ve been trying to go on more recruitment missions, because Suki wants to create different chapters of the Kyoshi Warriors - that way we aren’t limited to helping Kyoshi Island. She has big dreams, but she’s got enough determination that I don’t doubt they’re possible to achieve.

Sokka, Katara, and Aang stopped by the island for a visit last week. It was nice to see them again even if I don’t know them very well. But seeing them reunite with Suki made me miss you even more. You should come visit when you get a chance! You can even bring Zuko if he can afford a break. I’d love to see you again!!

How is Zuko, by the way? You didn’t mention him in your last letter. Are you two still doing alright? Or do I need to catch the first boat to Caldera and kick his ass for you? Because I will.

Okay, I have to go - Tuq is calling me. I look forward to your next letter, and I’ll write again once I’ve returned from Gaoling!

Yours always,

Ty Lee

— —

Ty Lee, 

Zuko is fine, but Zuko and I aren’t great. There’s too much stress with him being Fire Lord, I think. And we’re both realizing some things that make a relationship a little complicated. It’s nothing you need to worry about, though, I promise! We’re talking through it, so no need to beat Zuko up.

Besides, I’ll do it myself if I need to.

I love the flowers; they really are quite pretty. The pink ones are plum blossoms. Those mean “resilience” and “perseverance”. The yellow ones are daffodils, which mena “respect”. And the white ones are Tsutsuji, or azaleas. The white ones specifically mean either “modesty” or “first love”. It was a nice collection, you chose well.

Kyoshi Island does sound beautiful. I’m not sure when or if I’ll be able to visit, but maybe someday. Or I guess maybe if I need some distance from Zuko. I don’t know. We’ll see what happens.

I hope you enjoyed your trip to Gaoling! Zuko says Toph is from there. They didn’t like it much, but I believe that has to do with the circumstances of their upbringing. I’m sure it’s a fine place to visit. Suki’s idea about different Kyoshi Warrior chapters sounds helpful as well. Maybe you could come recruit in Caldera City sometime.

I miss you too. I hope we can see each other again soon.

Sincerely,

Mai

— —

Mai,

Gaoling was incredible! It’s so SO cool getting to travel around the Earth Kingdom and being able to really appreciate the cultures. I’ve learned a lot since I came to Kyoshi Island and we started going out on recruitment trips.

Although I do agree: A trip to Caldera would be nice. I’d love any excuse to see you! I know we’re both busy, though.

I’m sorry to hear about the complications between you and Zuko. And I know you can kick his ass yourself, but my offer still stands if you should need it. Or, like you said, you can come visit me here to get some distance from everything.

It’s hard to believe it’s nearing a year since the end of the war and me moving to Kyoshi Island. It’s still weird not having you close by, but it’s nice we can at least write letters. It doesn’t replace seeing you face-to-face, but it helps.

Spring is making me miss you more, I think. Remember when we would try to catch falling cherry blossoms, just the two of us in your backyard? I miss being that young and carefree. I miss seeing you like that. It was the one time you would let your guard down and allow yourself to smile.

I don’t think I ever told you, but you really do have the prettiest smile.

If I can ever convince Suki to take a Kyoshi Warrior trip to the Fire Nation, I’ll be sure to let you know. But until then, I’ll miss you and I’ll keep writing.

Yours always,

Ty Lee

— —

Ty Lee,

Sorry for the long break in letters. I’ve read all three you sent, but I was having trouble writing a response. Zuko and I have officially ended things. I moved out of the palace. I’m living with Aunt Mura now and working full time in the flower shop. My mom keeps trying to convince me to move home and I’m running out of ways to politely decline the offer.

I’m sorry this letter is no good. I don’t have much else to say.

I hope I’ll see you soon. I miss you.

Sincerely,

Mai

— —

Mai,

There’s no need to apologize! I’ll treasure any letter you send regardless of how long or short it is. It’s as close as I can get to having you with me.

I’m sorry to hear about you and Zuko. :( I know I’m far away, but let me know if there’s anything I can do!

I will say, I’m glad you moved in with your aunt instead of your parents. I know you don’t want to be too mean to your mom, but you’ll be much better off staying with Mura. Hopefully your mom will back off soon and understand that you don’t want to live with her anymore without you having to tell her it isn’t good for your mental health.

I hope you’re enjoying working at the flower shop! I know you always really liked that place. I used to think it was so unlike you to be happy helping out there, but I understand better now. It’s fitting, I think. You remind me of flowers sometimes; flowers don’t always recognize their beauty and worth either. But remember that you are always worthy of love and happiness.

I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m trying to guilt you with how much I say this, but I miss you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing you. A summer thunderstorm rolled through last night, and I thought of us hiding under the blankets in my bedroom. I was way more scared than you were, but you hid with me anyways. I really appreciate that. I’m not scared of thunder anymore, but I wouldn’t say no to building another blanket fort hideout.

The summer sun here is hot, but the heat of Caldera was worse. Take care of yourself. Remember to drink water and don’t stay out in the sun for too long without anything to shade you. 

Yours always,

Ty Lee

— —

Ty Lee,

I miss you too, no guilt intended.

Mura and Zuko both say I should visit you. Would that be okay? You asked if there was anything you could do to help, and all I could think was that I really miss your hugs.

Sincerely,

Mai

— —

Mai,

PLEASE come visit!!! I will give you as many hugs as you want!!!!!!!

Yours always,

Ty Lee

PS: Wait, you’re still talking to Zuko? Also you don’t have to wait for another response from me before you leave Caldera. Just come. I’ll tell Suki to expect you soon. Unless you don’t want to come, in which case, you’re free to stay! But I really really would love for you to visit.

— —

Ty Lee,

Yes, Zuko and I still talk. It’s complicated.

Next week is the last week of summer, and there’s usually a rush in the shop that week, so I’ll leave at the start of the following week.

See you soon!

Yours,

Mai

— —

“This is so much better than the letters,” Ty Lee whispers, burying her face in Mai’s shoulder. She’s clinging to Mai like her life depends on it, but Mai doesn’t mind because she’s doing the same in return. And Ty Lee is right; this is far better than the letters they’ve exchanged in the past year. Mai has kept each one, safe in a box on a shelf in her room where she can reread them whenever she’s missing Ty Lee more than usual.

But Ty Lee in person is a million times better than ink and paper and even the pressed flowers.

“I missed you,” Mai says, as if that hasn’t been stated in every letter sent between them. But it’s important, and it means more than just those three words. It means I’m glad to see you again and Times may change but our friendship remains and I’m home.

It expresses the love that the two of them spent so long pushing down and ignoring, because how could they be together in a world that would lock them up for their feelings?

“I missed you too.”

The hug breaks, but Ty Lee doesn’t let go of Mai’s arms, and Mai doesn’t want her to. Mai wants her to hold on forever, never wants to be apart from her again. She wants to throw caution to the wind and beg to stay.

But she doesn’t. Not yet.

She takes a deep breath, inhaling the clean Kyoshi Island air, tinged with the first chilled breezes of autumn. She looks around to assure no one else has come outside to check on them. She never figured out, exactly, what to say now. But she knows she needs to say something.

Zuko had convinced her, actually. Mai, I know you. You won’t do this without a push, so I’m pushing you. Go to Kyoshi Island. Tell Ty Lee how you feel. I’m almost certain she feels the same.

And once Zuko had pointed out the signs, Mai couldn’t stop seeing them either. It was written between each line in every letter Ty Lee sent her. It was in the pressed flowers and the neat creases in the paper. It was in the space between every single letter.

I LOVE YOU.

“Ty Lee,” Mai whispers. She leans in slightly on instinct, desperate to be closer. They’ve been so far apart for so long and even though Ty Lee’s hands remain firmly wrapped around her arms, Mai can hardly stand the space still lingering between them. She wants to melt into Ty Lee’s body so they can never be separated again.

“Please stay,” Ty Lee says. One hand drops Mai’s arm to cup her cheek instead. “I don’t think I can bear to say goodbye again. I know I told you I didn’t want to guilt you into coming here, and I didn’t, but— I couldn’t say everything in the letters. Some things need to be said in person.”

“You did say it,” Mai assures her. “And I think I’ve always felt the same. That’s why Zuko and I never could have worked. I always— It was always you. I’ve always been yours.”

Ty Lee smiles. “Your letters said it too. I was worried I was reading them wrong.”

Mai shakes her head. “You should know no one knows me as well as you do.”

“Mai—” Ty Lee starts, then stops abruptly. Instead of saying anymore, she lifts herself onto her tiptoes, angling Mai’s face downward.

Mai takes her cue and closes the distance between them.

#this song goes so hard i love it so much #someday i want to write an in.uokko fic based off it.. but i might clean this up / add more and post it on ao3 too eventually #that'll be a project for next year tho #anyway ty for the ask and i hope you enjoy!! <3 #mailee #mai #ty lee #atla #a:tla #avatar #avatar: the last airbender #ty lee x mai #fanfic #grace's writing tag #ask game #elli tag

[eva-cybele]

wolmeric week day 4: date

Kaede sat on the edge of a small half-wall in the Jeweled Crozier, dangling her feet over the abyss as she stared morosely at the broken half of her dark knight soul crystal. The mystery that was Myste hung heavy in the back of her mind, floating amongst the ache of grief and guilt that his appearance had dredged up to the surface. She had left him in Falcon’s Nest under Sid’s care, but could not seem to banish him from her mind, even upon her return to Ishgard.

If she went home like this, Aymeric would worry. Better to get herself reassembled into something approaching sanity before she did.

Home… The thought tugged a small smile to the corner of her mouth despite the malaise that lingered in her heart. Not long ago, home might have been the Rising Stones, or her mother’s home on the south shore of Bronze Lake. Never would she have guessed it would mean the grey stone streets of Ishgard, or a modest manor house on the edge of the Pillars.

Sighing, Kaede tucked the broken black crystal into the pouch that still held two other stones, one a brilliant red and the other a pale blue.

“There you are. I was beginning to think that you had left the city.”

Startled out of her reverie, Kaede whipped her head around to find herself face-to-face with the exact man she had been – well. Not avoiding, but… delaying seeing.

Aymeric lowered himself to sit on the wall next to her, though he – perhaps wisely – kept his boots on the side that had solid stone ground, rather than churning open air. The contrast was not lost on her. Always he was the steady one, unshaken even by great upheaval, and she was always flitting hither and yon, blown about by the winds of fate.

Shaking her head to clear it of such spiralling thoughts, she leaned back to catch his eye, covering his hand where it lay on the wall with her own. With effort, she summoned a smile to her face that she hoped did not look as wan as it felt. “Hi. I did, actually, for a little while. Just to Falcon’s Nest, to help a friend with something.”

Black brows knit themselves together as Aymeric studied her face, and she couldn’t help but turn away from his scrutiny. Foolish, to think she could hide anything from him, honestly.

The expected inquiry about her state of mind did not come, however. Perhaps he trusted her to come to him with it in her own time. Instead, he reached over and tucked a loose lock of hair back into her braid, his hand lingering a moment longer than was strictly proper. “Full glad am I that you returned in time, then. I would hate for my plans for the evening to go unfulfilled.”

Glancing back over at him, Kaede chewed on her lower lip in thought, trying to remember if he had mentioned anything that morning as they’d gotten out of bed. Aside from perhaps being a bit more affectionate and loathe to leave for his meetings than usual, she could think of nothing that was out of the ordinary.

At a loss, she tilted her head at him in curiosity. “Plans?”

Aymeric’s eyes crinkled a bit on the edges in suppressed amusement. “So you have forgotten the date, then. I thought that perhaps you might. Pray allow me to refresh your memory – exactly one year ago today, you, my dearest, accepted an invitation to dinner.”

Seven hells.

She was not overly accustomed to the tracking of time – with the busy nature of her life, timekeeping seemed a trifling matter, but there were a few dates that she should probably attempt to remember. This one neared the top of that list.

Sensing her mounting alarm, Aymeric ran a gloved palm over her scaled cheek, drawing her attention back to him. “You needn’t panic. I know full well how rigorous are the demands on your time, and how insignificant the tracking of the days compared to those demands. I merely wished to spend a quiet night in good company.”

His echo of her own words back to her, even a year on, made a small smile flicker across her face. “Still. I should have remembered, I’m sorry. It’s an important day to me, too.”

One year, much of which she had spent in Ala Mhigo or Doma, fighting the Empire, with only the occasional letter to grant her the company of his words, if not the rest of him. These two weeks in Ishgard were the longest that she’d ever spent in his presence, uninterrupted by anything more pressing than interminably-long meetings.

Or one of our soul crystals snapping in half and the arrival of a boy who looked like nothing less than the lovechild of Haurchefant and Ysayle –

She violently wrenched her attention back to Aymeric, refusing to allow that thought to take hold. This was not the time. Forcing herself into a smile, she leaned her cheek more fully into his hand. “What did you have in mind? I am completely at your disposal, my lord.”

A small amount of worry still lurked in the back of Aymeric’s gaze, but he seemed content to let it lie for now. Instead, he stood, and held out a hand. “All you need do is accompany me, my lady, and I will show you.”

Curiosity drew her along as surely as her hand in his, and she did not miss the stares of various passersby as they walked hand-in-hand down to the aetheryte plaza. Their relationship was – not exactly a secret, there was very little in Ishgard that was truly secret – but not something either of them flaunted, either. The gesture felt like a small, public declaration, in a way, and the idea made Kaede’s heart squeeze uncomfortably tight.

She had no further time to ponder the ramifications of such a thing, however, as they arrive at the aetheryte and Aymeric lifted his hand to it.

Teleportation magic gathered around them both, and Kaede surrendered to the feeling, allowing herself to be whisked away on the same current that bore Aymeric towards whatever destination he had in mind.

When the magic faded, the first feeling to register was that of a cold wind against her face – far colder, even, than the icy summer breeze that had been blowing in the city they had left. Taking a deep breath, she noted the thinness of the air, and opened her eyes to see they had arrived in none other than Moghome, on the edge of the Churning Mists.

A large blue blanket was spread on the edge of the floating island that anchored the aetheryte, looking out over the western skies as the sun sank into the sea of clouds below them. A picnic basket, with a bottle of wine next to it, sat at the edge, next to a few more blankets and – travel supplies?

A quiet kweh accompanied a familiar beak bump against her shoulder, and Kaede looked up and behind to see Narcissus, her chocobo, shifting his weight back and forth as he looked at them expectantly, some of her typical traveling gear hanging from his saddlebags.

Kaede shot a confused look over at Aymeric as she reached up to scratch Narci’s neck. “What is all this?”

Aymeric tugged her by the hand over to the blanket, pulling her down with him as he sat. “Well, I was quite taken with the view here, the first time I saw it. I remembered how much I wished that we had more time to spend here, without impending doom hanging over our heads. So I thought it might be a welcome change to leave the city for a day or two.”

Curling her body closer to his for warmth, Kaede smiled up at Aymeric and shoved the memories of that particular impending doom – the dread and uncertainty that they would be able to save Estinien, made all the worse by her previous repeated failures – to the back of her mind.

“Sounds lovely, honestly. And you brought food? When did you have the time to set all this up, anyway?” While she had been moping and wandering around with Sid and Rielle, he’d been planning something sweet, and the thought only made her feel all the more guilty.

A look of surprise bloomed across Aymeric’s features, and then settled into an expression she could only describe as sheepish. “Ah. Well… Perhaps I had rather fewer meetings today than I might have led you to believe. Pray forgive my deception.”

As Aymeric handed her a meat pasty, still warm to the touch from the softly glowing fire crystals in the bottom of the basket, she wrinkled her nose at him in amusement. “I suppose I’ll let you get away with it this time, considering it was for a good cause.” She took a bite of the meat pie, and hummed in appreciation. Okeanis, one of her favorites. “You know, if you were going for the real adventurer experience, you wouldn’t have packed food nearly this good.”

Aymeric chuckled and reached back for a blanket, wrapping it around both of them. With the heated basket nearby, and hot food, it was almost cozy, even though the air still fair burned in her lungs. “I saw no need for either of us to deprive ourselves of comfort, tonight least of all.”

Quiet fell as they both tucked into their dinner, staring out in companionable silence at the brilliantly colorful sunset, until shadows fell across the island. A glass of wine found its way into her hand, and Kaede leaned her head against Aymeric’s arm as slowly, the stars began to emerge from beyond the curtain of dusk.

The perfect moment of peace began to crystallize as Aymeric cupped her cheek and leaned down, his breath warm against her lips, and then –

Narci, who had been happily munching on a basket of fruits, let out a loud KWEH and stamped the ground, and suddenly a chorus of frantic kupos echoed all around them as from every rock and crevice, moogles came tumbling out, only to fly like drunken bumblebees back towards Moghome, while Narci puffed up his snowy white feathers in indignation.

Fuzzy little shites. Aymeric sighed, rubbing his forehead in irritation. "Perhaps you might know of a place to make camp where we are less likely to be disturbed?"

Kaede dropped her forehead to his collarbone and laughed. “I’m sure I can think of something.” The temptation to suggest that they head home to the comfort of their bed was strong, but the allure of there being no one else around to make demands on their time was even sweeter.

Together, they packed up the blankets and wine, and Kaede swung herself up onto Narci’s back, pleased to feel Aymeric’s warmth press firmly against her back as he mounted behind her. The last time they’d done this, she’d been a touch disappointed at how proper and polite he’d been, his hands not wandering even a little.

This time, though, there was no such disappointment, and more than once she almost forgot what she was meant to be doing, as they flew over the Churning Mists. The northern half of the island cluster was still too densely populated by the mad remnants of Nidhogg’s brood, but the southern half was nigh-to-infested with bloody moogles, and Kaede didn’t want to disturb Hraesvelgr at Zenith or Shiva’s shrine. In the end, only one good option presented itself, and Kaede turned Narci towards the small clearing where she’d made camp with Ysayle and the others, so long ago now.

No sooner had they dismounted than Aymeric caught her by the shoulders and pulled her into a heated kiss, one made all the more fervent by the delay.

By the time he released her, she felt dizzy, though whether it was the kiss, the wine, or the thin air, she wasn’t sure. Regardless of the reason, she was loathe to let him go, even though one of them really should scout the area, and someone needed to build a fire, and pitch the tent, and…

A thumb brushed over her cheek scales. “Shall we make camp, then?”

She sighed in disappointment, and nodded, reluctantly loosening her grip on his coat. “We should. Fortunately, as we flew over, I didn’t see any dragons or meliae nearby. And Narci makes for a pretty good watch-bird, as you saw.”

Aymeric smiled as he stepped back and busied himself with unpacking the tent and bedroll. “Why did he react like that to a bunch of harmless moogles?”

After setting a few alarm mammets around the perimeter and seeing to Narci’s greens and water, a quick survey of the area yielded enough tinder for a small fire. “Oh, a few of them tried to dye his tailfeathers purple. I don’t think he would have minded that overmuch, except then they pulled a few out. Ever since then, he’s had a vendetta. Hells hath no fury like a chocobo scorned. Especially a vain one with a brand new bald spot.” As she talked, Kaede focused her aether into a much weaker version of a verfire spell. The small flame was the best she could do without a focus, but it was enough to catch the dry leaves and small branches, with rather less effort than flint and steel.

“Well, in that case, I don’t believe I can blame him in the slightest.” Tent pitched – and as neatly and quickly as if she’d done it herself – Aymeric came to join her at the fire. “Have you camped here before? It seemed as if you had this place in mind from the first.”

Kaede hesitated as she looked around the clearing, seeing Ysayle, Estinien, Alphinaud, and Marz almost as clearly as if the Echo had shown them to her again. “I… Yes. The last night, before we met with Hraesvelgr, we made camp here. ‘Twas the last time we were all together. After that, Ysayle had her crisis of conscience, then Marz tried to leave after we slew Nidhogg, and then…” She sighed, drawing her knees up to her chin and resting her arms on them. “It was nice. There was bickering, of course, but it was comfortable, by then. Even between Estinien and Ysayle.” The ache in her heart from earlier rose up again, and this time would not be forced back down. “She deserved better than to die alone at the hands of the damned Imperials. All so we could get to Azys Lla.”

She felt, rather than saw, Aymeric’s wince. “She did. I regret every day my part in sending you to that place. It cost you one dear friend, and nearly cost both of us another.”

Leaning her weight against his side, she shook her head. “I would have gone anyway. You asking was just a formality.” She sighed, and stared at the fire. “It had to be done, but Estinien was right, when he said that vengeance takes more than it gives.”

In avenging Haurchefant, she lost Ysayle. In ending the cruelty of the Heaven’s Ward, she caused the suffering of those who loved them. Never had that been more apparent than today, when she was faced with Ser Ignasse’s cousin. Even twisted into primals, without hope of redemption, still they had families. Mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, daughters and sons.

An act alike to patricide, he called it once. As if we were merely the weapon, and his the hand that wielded it.

She had always been too afraid to broach that topic. It was too large, her hatred for the man too deep, her regard for Aymeric too important to her.

It was just another sin, piled upon many.

Quietly, above her head, Aymeric’s voice caught her attention. “There was nothing you could have done. She made her choice. We all did.”

Somehow, she did not think he was speaking solely of Ysayle.

Swallowing back a lump of grief, the words slipped out before she could bite them back: “I’m sorry. About your father.”

A deep sigh huffed out into the cold night air, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Aymeric cast a look up into the heavens, as if searching for answers he had yet to find on solid ground. “As am I, believe me. I do not pretend to understand the choices he made, and I wish that things could have gone differently, but – he was lost long ago. It was… mercy. And I thank you for it. I regret that it is you who has had to bear so much of the weight of his choices, most of all.” Aymeric pressed a kiss against the crown of her head, and the tender gesture almost broke the dam of sorrow that she had been building for the last two years, but it held for now. “We should go to bed, I think. ‘Tis always easier to dispel such thoughts in the light of day, in my experience.”

Kaede nodded, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil all your hard work in putting together such a lovely night.”

She was trying for light-hearted, but even she could tell how flat that attempt had fallen.

Aymeric shook his head, emphatically. “You have done no such thing. In fact, full glad am I to have spoken of this – you have seemed… out of sorts, of late. I did not wish to pry, but…” His hand squeezed hers. “You know you can always speak to me, if you are troubled.”

As she looked up into earnest, worried blue eyes, the guilt of not mentioning Myste and the business with her soul crystal ate at her, but how would she even begin to explain? When she did not yet understand it herself?

Later. I promise.

Instead, she linked her other hand in his, and rising up on her toes, brushed a kiss against his lips. “I know. Thank you.”

With a squeeze, she stepped back and shed her armor, piling it neatly inside the flap of the tent, dimly aware by the rustle of chain and cloth that Aymeric was doing the same. Stripped to her underarmor in the cold air, she all but dove under the blanket in the tent. Fortunately, she was not alone long.

It had been a long damned time since she had shared blankets with anyone while traveling for reasons beyond simple sleeping, and as Aymeric drew her close, it felt as if the world had shrunk down to naught but fabric and warmth and mingled breath, more close and intimate than even their bedroom. The worries and the sorrows could stay outside in cold under the stars for tonight.

For now, she would choose to spend her evening as she had told him she wished to, a year ago – quiet, and in good company.

#wolmeric #wolmeric week #godDAMN this one got away from me #I'll likely edit it up and add a ummm bit at the end maybe hehe and then put it on AO3 #someday I'll finish the Kaede DRK Depression Era fic that this takes place during #ffxiv writing #eva writes #daughters of dusk and dawn #sons of ice and fury #when the prompt says fluff but the blorbos say angst