#firebreak fanfic

[sargeantsarmy]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FIREBREAK!!!!!!

[coldrainsstuff]

I just posted a Spectre x Firebreak fanfic if anyone likes to read it.

[nycorix]

just remembered these and they aged so much better than I expected lol

HAPPY 2/22/22 TO THE NKS-VERSE FANDOM LOL. I decided extremely last-minute (read: yesterday) to do a lil mini-project in honor of 22 and arospec week!! So here's a three part oneshot feat. 22/the ghost + platonic intimacy with 06 / Mal / Wasp in that order 🥲🥲🥲

[retrogradedreaming]

18 from the "ways to say I love you" meme for 06 and 22 (Firebreak) 😶

Ahhh sorry it's taking me so long to get through these, I haven't really been able to write since last week but I am trying!!! (And Kase, I know you're probably more patient in general because we live together but still) I have NO idea how good this is because I've barely written them before but I tried!!

18.  “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

---

Foster knows where the Director keeps the whiskey. She’s snuck into this office enough times and stolen enough things from the expensive mahogany desk that she knows her way around it—maybe even better than the Director herself.

But tonight isn’t about escaping. Tonight, 22 is back in his bed, coughing so much that no one is getting any sleep, no matter how hard he tries to muffle them into his flat pillow. Salazar already snapped at him twice, even though everyone knows that won’t make him stop. Maybe it’s that this illness is so unfamiliar to them all—sure, all of them have had middle of the night coughing fits, but it’s rare that they happen because of the flu rather than a collapsed lung. Foster is almost more scared for her friend now than she would be if his body were rejecting his lungs altogether. At least she knows what happens then.

Medical had sent him back to the huge room where all of the operatives sleep, claiming that after a week in quarantine, he’s no longer contagious. But he sounds contagious, and he looks like shit, and Foster isn’t convinced that the Medical staff really know how to handle ailments like this. At fifteen, she’s seen them fuck up too many times to trust them with something so simple.

Which is why she’s now in the Director’s office in the middle of the night, taking matters into her own hands. The Director’s office isn’t as big as the training rooms or the sleeping bay, but it’s still enormous for just one person. At the back, there’s a shelf with several packages of cookies, all but one open, and the crumbs littering the Director’s desk say that the operatives aren’t the only ones who eat them. A filing cabinet sits in the opposite corner behind the desk, and Foster knows that the bottom drawer holds things that have nothing to do with the Director’s paperwork.

But that isn’t where the whiskey lives.

Foster knows by now how to apply the right amount of pressure to the desk drawer to make it pop open without breaking it (she’s made that mistake before). Inside is a collection of snacks and knick knacks, but Foster digs for the panel beneath it all, lifting it to reveal the glass bottle half full of amber liquid laid on its side.

She pulls it out and sets it on the desk where she’s laid out the rest of the ingredients. She’s pretty sure she got them all, based on how she saw the Director make this last winter. And anything is better than letting 22 suffer.

She managed to steal a glass from the kitchen along with the lemon, honey, and cinnamon. She’ll get the water on the way back, from one of the water fountains. As she sets it and her ingredients on the Director’s desk, preparing to make her concoction, she realizes she’s run into a problem. While she knows what goes into the drink, she has no idea how much of anything to put in.

It doesn’t matter, she decides in the end. She’ll figure it out.

She uncaps the whiskey and pours it into the glass until it’s about half full. Then, she tears the lemon in half and squeezes it into the glass. The honey is a bit more difficult, owing to the fact that she forgot to steal a spoon, and she doesn’t have time to rummage through the Director’s desk to find another. So she tips the jar, partway full with partially crystallized honey, on its side, waiting for the sticky substance to creep close enough to the opening that she can scoop it out with her fingers. She licks them afterward, savoring the intense sweetness on her tongue as she stirs the mixture with a cinnamon stick.

Distant footsteps reach her ears from down the hall, which means her time is just about up. She knows the security route by now, and she’ll have about five minutes after the guard passes by the door to get herself from the Director’s office back to the sleeping quarters. The timing doesn’t worry her, but she still has to clean up, rubbing away all the lemon juice that missed the glass and mopping up a few drops of spilled whiskey with her sleeve.

She shoves the bottle back into the secret compartment and jams the panel down over it before cramming the remaining ingredients into her pockets, just in case she needs them again later. Before she leaves the office, she leans over the glass to smell it, making a face when the sour bitterness sits at the back of her sinuses.

But last year, the Director had said this helped, and Foster would give 22 her own lungs if they were any less shitty than his. If a gross drink would help him, then she would make sure he fucking drank it.

On her way back, she stops at one of the water fountains to fill the glass the rest of the way. It doesn’t help the smell, and Foster doesn’t dare sample the drink herself. She doesn’t want to have to lie to 22, to tell him it doesn’t taste that bad if she knows it does.

As she slips back into the big room with all their cots lined up, she hears him cough again, a horrible, barking sound that feels like it lasts forever as Foster makes her way across the tile. Soft snores drift from Ayres’s cot—he’s the only one who could possibly sleep through this—along with rustling from Salazar’s, no doubt to make a point rather than to get comfortable. And finally, Foster reaches 22, across from her own bed, huddled beneath the blanket like the room is any colder than it ever is. When she touches his skin, it feels hot, and he jumps as if he hadn’t heard her coming.

“Hey, it’s just me,” she whispers, crouching down beside the bed. “I brought you something.”

22 opens his eyes, and they’re glassy even in the dark. His breathing sounds ragged and shallow, and Foster once again curses the Medical staff for not fixing him. But at least she can keep an eye on him herself now.

He doesn’t say anything, so Foster raises the glass in front of his face. “Here,” she says, offering it to him. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

22 pushes himself up into a sitting position, muffling a few more coughs into his sleeve. Foster moves to sit on the mattress beside him and hands him the drink. She’s grateful he can’t smell right now because if he could, he wouldn’t take the first sip.

When he does, he looks like he might spit it right back into the glass. “This is gross,” he rasps with a grimace.

“Yeah, it’s like medicine,” Foster says. “I saw the Director drink it before when she was sick. Just try it.”

“I don’t want it,” 22 says, holding the glass out for Foster to take. She pushes it back toward him.

“No way,” she says. “You have to drink it if you wanna get better.”

22 gives her another skeptical look, but he’s too feverish and exhausted to argue. Instead, he tips the glass back, brow furrowing through another series of swallows until he has to stop to cough again. By the time it’s gone, he looks like he might be sick.

“What was that?” he asks, and Foster is pleased when his voice comes out a little stronger.

“A hot toddy,” she proclaims, taking the glass back to hide under her cot until she can return it to the kitchens. “Did it help?”

“It wasn’t even hot,” he grumbles, burrowing back beneath his blanket with a shiver that ripples through the mattress so that Foster feels it, too. But he doesn’t cough again, and in the time it takes Foster to walk to her own bed, retrieve her blanket, and drape it over him, he’s fallen asleep.

Before she retreats to her own blanketless mattress, Foster whispers, “Not you. Not me.”

[theghostplace]

Welcome to the Ghost-Place!

We’re here to create a safe, positive place to share content and talk about the Archivist Wasp Saga, Firebreak, and other works by Nicole Kornher-Stace! 

Our purpose? To grow the collective fandom and spread the love for one sad ghost.

We’ll share fanworks, including fanfic, fanart, playlists, moodboards, cosplay, and pretty much anything else you can think of for the fandom! We have a lot of ghost thoughts, but we want to hear yours, too, so PLEASE send them to us.

We’re just two fans who fell in love with the ghost, Foster, Mal, and Wasp, and we think they deserve more of it - which is why we made our own ghost-place. Are you gonna follow us down?

[tsarisfanfiction]

WIP tag game

So I got tagged by @eirabach (aah, thank you!) for this.  Doing it on my fanfic blog rather than my main because... fanfic wips.  Fanfic blog.

Recent things I’m working on... got a few wips open atm (all TAG) so here’s the last paragraph or so I’ve written from each.  All wip ‘names’ are very much under construction, and most of them have a few potential titles at the moment (or none and I’m being boring).

It got long, so under a cut they go.  I’ll tag a few other authors here now, though - @darkestwolfx, @louthestarspeaker, @hedwigstalons, @ak47stylegirl any wips to share?

“Intervention” He got a non-committal noise in response as Scott sat down a little too heavily at the table and reached for coffee.  Jeff pulled the mug out of his reach and replaced it with a glass of water, to raised eyebrows from the rest of his family.

“Hey!” his eldest complained.  Jeff pacified him with a platter of pancakes, which he blinked at a couple of times before tentatively taking a bite.

Little bit of post-series fluff, amongst other things in that one!

“Impossible/Long Way From Home” “Magnetic grabs and pulleys,” he said.  It was a rather over-simplification of the complex mechanism Brains had set up in order to get the submarine quickly and efficiently between Module Four and the nicknamed ‘squid tank’ she otherwise settled in by Thunderbird One, but with the difference in technology – and the fact that Scott didn’t fully understand the nuances of that particular A to B journey anyway – he saw no point in explaining further.

How does Four get from tank to module and vice-versa?  I got a headache trying to work out even where the two hangars are precisely in relation to each other, let alone anything else, so fluffing it, it is.  This fic is going to be a monster, if I ever finish it...

“Rescue Scouts/Hero pt 2” Neil heard the retelling of his own stumbling conversation and immediately tuned it out.  Speaking via hologram with various International Rescue operatives, primarily Scott and another young man he’d come to know as John, he had become less likely to freeze up at the sight of them, but there was something different about seeing them in person, and he was hoping that this time, he’d at least appear to keep his cool.  No more Neil the Tomato.

A rumble in the sky prompted him to look around, hunting for the source of the noise.  The weather was idyllic, cool and crisp but with clear skies that proudly presented the unmistakable silhouette of Thunderbird Two as the gigantic craft approached.

Some of you might remember my post-Firebreak episode tag, “Hero”.  This is a sequel, so Neil the rescue scout leader makes a return, and some rescue scout kids get excited!

“Closer” “It’s from your own stash,” he promised, taking it back from Grandma and holding the straw to his lips. “John made it hot, so be careful.”

“’M alway’ ca’ful.” Scott mumbled the biggest lie Virgil had ever heard before accepting the straw and taking a sip.

“If you say so,” he said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to help keep him in place as he drank.  He was still cool to the touch, despite the blankets wrapped around him firmly.

Oops, whump fic.  Sorry, Scotty.

“Crash” The hospital staff were ready and waiting for them when they finally arrived, a two hour flight that had felt far longer.  No sooner had he touched down and opened the module than they were swarming, hurrying Scott inside with Virgil hot on their heels, presumably talking doctor-speak and filling in anything they hadn’t already been briefed about.

Gordon and Alan were left in Thunderbird Two’s cockpit, watching out of the windows as their elder brothers vanished into the maw of the hospital.

I write a lot of whump.  I promise I love you, Scotty!

“Words/Stick and Stones” “That’s just about the only bright side,” he muttered, carefully wiping the limb with saline water as Scott’s fingers twitched in his hand – sadly unmistakable for anything other than repressed pain.  “Any worse and I’d be taking you to a hospital for a skin graft.”  Worried brown eyes looked away from the bloodied mess for a moment, briefly meeting Scott’s gaze.  “I’ll leave it for now to see if it does start healing by itself, but that still might be necessary.”

Oops again?

“Toffee” A blinding grin that was far too innocent to be innocent, and he was gone.  Scott stared at the water in front of him and idly considered shoving his head in it.  Now that Gordon had set a precedent – and yes, he shouldn’t have let Gordon get away with it but him and Penelope was something Scott didn’t dare interfere with one way or another – he was going to be getting that from at least two brothers, if not all three of the ones on Earth, depending how annoyed Virgil was about the washing machine.

Why did this happen?

And my current irrelief wip that I was literally writing when I saw the tag!  This one’s turning into a multichap - first chapter might go up tonight if I can get the second chapter written before I go to bed (just to be sure which direction it’s heading in!)

I write a lot and often have multiple wips on the go - there are more, I just don’t have the actual files open right now!  As always, I’m up for sneak peaks or discussion or whatever if anyone has any questions :D

[fanfictionlive]

My first fanfic

I'm making a fanfic which features Tachanka, Arthur Morgan, Trevor Philips, and Firebreak, who all got teleported to the Fortnite Island for sum reason. Please don't hate me, it's my first time and if you want to help me, that would be very appreciating

submitted by /u/McBlorgus [link] [comments] from FanFiction: Where Magical Ponies battle Imperial Titans https://ift.tt/2u9UT9k

[jahaliel]

Dragon’s Tears: A Sekiro Fanwork Masterpost

haven’t had to make one of these in a while.  will update when I remember and will also link to this on my blog - under writing masterposts. please note these are full of spoilers for the game and endings.

Under a cut for length - links to both AO3 and tumblr posts as applicable :D (if you are a sekiro fan please feel free to come and yell about the game, your headcanons, whatever - and if you are writing fic for it send me links I wanna read it!)

Poetry

Everblossom Flowers Anew - Ao3 Collection of all the poetry - The Letter, chapter 9 is an Ao3 exclusive and part of the Mercy’s Tears series.

Ashina What Would You Do Guiding Light to choose another, heresy Ripples of Illusion, Choices of Heart A Thousand Tears Shed hopeless dawn the weight of words lie heavy withered branch Shura (Firebreak)  fanvideo edit here Soundcloud recording here fanvid edit was done by the Incredibly Wonderful @dragonhoardsbookz Love, love, love Something More the body remembers Not So Different (formatted poetry - tumblr exclusive) Death in the Family a father’s love Sword Raised in Defense No Way Out The Tragedy of the Dancer (suicide tw for this one) the taste of ash (suicide tw, major character death, Shura ending AU) persimmons in your wake long after the dust settles (tumblr only) rest now, there’s time enough remember a beginning (Owl/Butterfly) Silent Wings (Owl/Butterfly) FanFic

Fics are available on Ao3 Mercy’s Tears are a Healing Balm (series, complete, Purification Ending AU) @leonidas-art is AN AWESOME PERSON and created THIS lovely fanart for Precious Gift of Life - the final fic in the Mercy’s Tears series :D :D :D :D (still can’t believe you made fanart for my fic I have it as my phone background and it makes me smile whenever I check my phone)

In Lightning’s Wake, Victory (multi-chapter, feat. OFC - Nemo d’Vidas) this weapon is your life (stand-alone, short fic, missing scene) Tumblr link memory sparked (stand-alone, short fic, missing scene pre-game) Stubborn Shinobi (pre-relationship Emma/Wolf stand-alone, short fic) Diary of a Young Lord (angst, Kuro keeps a diary, Major Character Death) fire that warms like sake (fluff, Emma and the Sculptor through the years) Gifted (fluff, young Genichiro and family) pinwheels on the mountainside (angst, children of the Rejuvenating Waters) Dragonspring Days (fluff, drinking, Isshin and Co, young Emma & Genichiro) A better ending? (inspired by the taste of ash, Shura AU) Together we will (inspired by @ornstein‘s time travel AU) Tumblr link Other A Thousand Could Have Beens - Sad Playlist for Emma/Wolf The Last Entry - Fanart for my own Fic, Diary of a Young Lord By Love - Wedding Song for In Lightning’s Wake Victory Ch 8 (soundcloud)

[thundersolstice]

we will ever get another sequel to snowbreak/firebreak fanfic? i love your writing! 💖

I actually got over 7k words into a sequel, stalled, and then kind of drifted away from it. Odds for seeing it finished are low at the moment, I’m sorry to say.

Thank you for your lovely comment! If I do finish it, tumblr will be the first to know. <3

[nycorix]

This line from the next bit of the firebreak/archivist wasp au fic I'm working on sums the whole thing up rather well

LOL sorry 22. Bad Times Ahead ™️

[nycorix]

So I have this massive, elaborate, meta-as-fuck fanfic for Firebreak that I have been planning for like. A couple months now? I started it recently and so far it is going unexpectedly well 👀 I'm not gonna post it on AO3 until I get farther into it, but I thought I'd put the first piece up on here as a sort of sneak peek!

Tl;dr it is a "they-lived" au in which 22 and 06 go back with Mal to old town instead of dying, told in little vignettes like Pathfinding! I'm having a looooot of fun with it so far so I hope y'all do too!

Fandom: Firebreak/Archivist Wasp, all IP belongs to Nicole Kornher-Stace and I'm just playing in her glorious sandbox

Title: Our Own Monsters

1.

The knock comes just before sunset. 22 is on his feet in a breath, sword ripped from the carpet with a dull scraping sound. The look he gives Mal is clear—stay put—but Mal hauls herself to her feet and follows him anyway.

He stands before the door for a moment, unmoving, head tilted as if he can somehow see through the thick, rotting wood. A deadly calm has fallen over him, a shroud to conceal the turmoil Mal has had the privilege of watching him wade through since she found him.

He reaches for the doorknob, knuckles of his sword-hand bone white, and pulls.

06 is on the porch.

Mal gives her eyes a vicious rub, certain dehydration and sleep deprivation and the past however-many-hours are finally making her hallucinate—but the apparition is still there when her vision refocuses, and every fiber of 22’s being tells her that the woman standing just beyond the threshold is 100% real.

Blood slick down her front, grave dirt in her hair and on her face and all over her. Eyes so bright—so alive—they might have been embers against the backdrop of twilight, fixed firmly on 22.

“Hi,” she says, and steps into the house, swinging the door shut behind her.

A resounding crack splits the room as 22’s palm connects with the side of 06’s face, a terrible, weighted sound that Mal feels in her own teeth. She gasps aloud—knows he could easily have just shattered 06’s jaw—but she’s barely reeling, only regarding him with interest, and now he’s got his arms wrapped around her shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides.

“Idiot,” he says, and if it’s closer to a breathless sob than a word, neither Mal nor 06 is saying anything about it.

06 isn’t saying anything at all, anyway, likely because he’s one step from crushing her lungs in his grip. He seems to realize this after a moment because he lets go and takes a single, calculated, mechanical step back.

06 frowns at him, the expression of someone who knows they should be feeling something they’re not. The expression of someone desperately trying to fit a face to a name.

He watches her with a stillness that is equally desperate, the air thick with all the things they cannot or will not say. Neither so much as glances in Mal’s direction.

“I told you to kill me,” 06 rasps finally, hand drifting to her cheek, which is already starting to bruise. Her lips twist, like her body remembers her smile but her mind does not. “Not to bury me alive.”

[nycorix]

Chapters 12-14 added~!

Reposting because my partner did this amazing title card for me!!!

***NEW CHAPTERS ADDED***

Summary

Getting two company-branded supersoldiers safely back to old town is, as it turns out, only the hard part. The harder part is everything that comes after. ||An in-depth AU chronicling 06 and 22's lives if they had both survived, told in a series of vignettes.||

[nycorix]

HAPPY 2/22/22 TO THE NKS-VERSE FANDOM LOL. I decided extremely last-minute (read: yesterday) to do a lil mini-project in honor of 22 and arospec week!! So here's a three part oneshot feat. 22/the ghost + platonic intimacy with 06 / Mal / Wasp in that order 🥲🥲🥲