#it'd be amazing for a show like this to stretch out long term

[lovetriangled]

dead boy detectives is the type of show to last a good 8 seasons

[thefearandnow]

Audio Drama Sunday: 11/29/22

So its been almost a full month since I stopped checking Twitter and one of the things that I always loved reading on a Sunday was all the lovely Audio Drama Sunday threads where I discovered a ton of amazing fiction podcasts. Inspired by those and my goal to write more on tumblr I thought it'd be fun to put together my first Audio Drama Sunday post and try to make it a semi-regular thing. Mostly to just get my thoughts down and get through my listening backlog but also for podcast recommendations!

Quiet Part Loud

I posted about this a couple weeks ago (I'm including the past two weeks in this post) but Quiet Part Loud is high on my list for favorite podcasts of the year. The Monkeypaw created, Mac Rogers written, Jordan Peele executive produced Gimlet show really delivered on the hype and I'm excited that there's possibly going to be a season 2. Though the premise sounds very similar to like a Limetown/Black Tapes sort of podcaster/investigator type of thing going on, the way it's written actually reminded me more of last year's comedy series Dark Air starring Raine Wilson (though of course this one is squarely horror, also very Burned Photo in terms of plot). They do an excellent job conceptually and aesthetically grappling with audio as a vehicle for social terror across history and mediums, which is the type of shit I live for! I thought the story was really well paced, the second half of the series had some incredible stand out episodes and the last two episodes were very satisfying. I think this show has a ton of re-listen value and I'm excited to see what happens in the next season. The only bad part of this podcast is that it's a Spotify exclusive so not as many people can listen and I'm not really sure it's worth a subscription if you don't already have it. But if you already have Spotify and love horror I can't recommend enough!

The Goblet Wire

The Goblet Wire is probably one of the more unique podcasts I've listened to: a surreal horror scripted role-playing collection of bite sized portraits (it'd be a stretch to call some of them stories). Very similar to John Darnielle's Wolf in White Van. And last week I finally listened to the last two episodes, which I thought really helped give the whole first batch of episodes a true sense of a series arc. Which I don't think it necessarily needed, but it felt like the end of a season y'know? I love the writing, the simplicity of the format but complexity of the imagery. It's such an open ended concept and I'm looking forward to hearing what the next set of writers do in the next batch of episodes. On top of the show itself being fun to listen to it's just like an incredible thing to exist as a platform for indie fiction podcast creators to collaborate on and make crazy shit. I've got a ton of other podcasts to check out from the plugs at the end of each episode and it just feels so like underground comics community vibe.

We're Alive: Descendants

We're Alive was the first audio drama I ever listened to but I dropped off somewhere in the middle. I tried to get back into with with Gold Rush but felt too lost from the original story line and felt intimidated by going all the way back. But when I saw that they were doing this most recent Descendants season I decided to give it another shot and... it's sorta like my guilty pleasure listening. Like it's nostalgic mainly. It's like their Hunger Games moment which I'm into but for the most part everything that I'm excited about so far during the season gets watered down in clunky dialogue or slow moving plot points. And overall the episodes end up being too long and kinda boring. This last week I listened to Episode 7 (parts 1 and 2 which is a whole other thing) and I can't tell if it all went over my head because of a ton of lore and character work I missed but I definitely felt confused. I'm still gonna keep listening cause at this point I'm invested in figuring out how it all goes down from a story perspective and it feels like this next episode will finally connect the two concurrent story lines. I'm curious to see if longtime fans have enjoyed this season; I've found it an easier entry point than Gold Rush and I like hearing about the regional evolution of the infected, I'm definitely enjoying it even if it's a bit slow.

Welcome to Night Vale

Seems a bit basic to be adding WTNV here but I have been inspired recently to go back to some select episodes, all of them recommendations from this post. And yeah: Night Vale is still such a classic with hilarious writing, fun concepts and undeniably influential style. So far I've only listened to a few early episodes (The Glow Cloud episode is 100% gold) that I was already familiar with and it's been really interesting to listen back to them after listening to Start With This for the past few months. I have a completely different appreciation for what they were doing with this show as it was coming out, like when I was heavy into Night Vale I think I took it for granted that this show existed and was perfectly weird and couldn't really wrap my head around the talent and thought that went into making it so special. I'm really enjoying my trip down memory lane but I'm also really excited to hear some new ones y'all recommended so I'll probably be carving out some space for future posts about my wtnv backlog.

Honorable Mention:

This isn't audio drama but I do want to note that the "Qatar's World Cup" episode of Throughline was really a great listen and worth the hour or so for anyone who's even vaguely following the World Cup or if you saw that John Oliver video. Throughline is one of my fave non-fiction podcasts and episodes like this one feel especially valuable in terms of their research and production.

[eframschweigersskincells]

I don't know if you remember but I asked you a list of questions long while ago. Well it's been a good bit of time for things and feelings to develop since I asked you so I thought it'd be time to update everything! Now with bonus questions!

Quick fire questions!

1. Who do you main in ZA4?

2. Favourite main campaign map?

3. Favourite DLC campaign map?

4. Favourite horde map?

5. Main sniper?

6. Main secondary?

7. Main pistol?

8. Least favourite weapon?

9. Least favourite campaign map?

10. Least favourite horde map?

11. Least favourite character?

12. Favourite weapon skin?

13. Favourite charm?

14. Favourite hat?

15. Least favourite weapon skin?

16. Least favourite charm?

17. Least favourite hat?

18. Favourite photomode pic?

19. Favourite map to photograph?

20. Least favourite map to photograph?

21. Favourite song on the soundtrack?

22. Favourite enemy?

23. Least favourite enemy?

24. Favourite NPC?

25. Least favourite NPC?

26. What mode do you play more often?

27. If you could sum the game up in 3 words what would they be?

28. Favourite headcanon?

29. If you could change one thing about the game what would it be?

30. If rebellion gave you the opportunity to add one thing to the game what would it be?

Of course I remember Maxis! It definitely has been awhile so I'd be happy to answer these questions again and from the looks of I'll definitely have my work cut out for me!

1. It's still Werner, the pros and cons are still just perfect for me and of course hes always amazing to listen to and his outfits are just superb (still pissed hes the only one to not have atleast three skins)

2. Definitely hell base, its just a beautiful map and always amazing to get photos in! Plus it's a good challenge especially on nightmare a great way of getting yourself an adrenaline rush!

3. God this is so difficult, I guess I'd say deeper than hell, I feel like it really showed off just how much rebellion could stretch the boundaries of what they had done in the main campaign and that the DLCs are more than just some cool add ons (not that I thought that of blood count or terror lab) it's a beautiful map and a fucking fantastic time I love it so so much!

4. Death collector is quickly becoming my favourite because the amount of crack induced euphoria its give me is scarily awesome but I can't let my boys in to the darkness and frozen in fear down.

5. Mosin Nagant and the Lee Enfield two absolute chefs kiss weapons and I'll never let anyone take them from me!

6. The grease gun for sure, quick, powerful and a good clip size and reload speed. I didn't think I'd like it but now its my favourite!

7. The polizieipistole (probably butchered that) it may not be the most powerful pistol but its amazing at severing limbs and it's great for a quick back up if all else fails.

8. M1 Garande, the fuckin shotgun mortar and the FUCKIN C96 (If I see anyone use them it's still on sight) they're just such shit useless weapons, the Garande is just miserable to use, the shotgun mortar is a waste of time and most used by asshats who like causing problems for everyone and the C96 is FUCKING USELESS!!!

9. Rotten coast, no idea why but its just not as hard hitting as the others but there is still a lot of fun to be had!

10. Dead in the water, it makes me want to claw my eyes out its painful.

11. Probably Shola, I used to really like but her but now that I've come to terms with Jun and Hector shes definitely fallen in favour.

12. Still the occult and elemental skins they're just so pretty to look at and they always look sleek in photo-mode!

13. Definitely the survivor brigade badge! Just a reminder of the days playing trilogy and how far the series has come! Oh and Werners dog tags

14. Hmmm my favourite hat? Probably the nuclear test goggles that just look really goofy and is really entertaining to me!!!

15. The zombie skin wrap, I know for a fact that it would fuckin disgusting to touch and I can't handle it. Nasty as fuck!

16. Probably the cowboy hat, what kinda American bullshit is this? American? In my British game?

17. It's still the sports helmets they still make me unnecessarily angry.

18. It took me ages to decide but I'd definitely say this one.

(Okay yeah it's my competition photo but ssshhhh)

19. I genuinely love all of them they're all so much fun to photograph but I'd have to say that abbadon asylum is just a phenomenal map!!

20. I don't hate taking photos of any of them so unfortunately I can't answer this one.

21. OH OH OH ITS THE VILLAGE REPISE WITHOUT A DOUBT THAT SHIT SLAPS!!!!

22. The screamer, I know I'm shit scared of them but there's just something about it that's just *chefs kiss*

23. Those fucking abominations from ragnarok part one I have never experienced panic quite like it.

24. Schweiger my boy!!!!

25. FUCKING EDIE

26. Campaign 100% I fuckin love horde mode but campaign has my heart!!!!

27. Very fuckin fruity!

28. Probably that Werner eats dirt (shout out to @anuspastor for that magical moment)

29. Maybe more accessibility options, just that little extra for those who needs that help with playing!

30. A FUCKIN THIRD SKIN FOR WERNER!

This was a lot of fun Maxis thank you for all the questions and if anyone else has any questions feel free to ask!!!

[elriel-oblivion]

So it's been four days so here's part two 😁 Just wanted to say a huge thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented/reblogged the last part! It was such an amazing response, especially given it was my first time posting my writing here, so thanks for all the love you shared 🥰🥰

Heads up, this part is actually part one from Elain's pov. Initially I wanted to continue from where the last part left off in Elain's pov, but as I was writing the background, I realised I'd written too much to just skip when Az gets to the estate and cut straight into a continuation of part one, so I ended up rewriting the whole thing in her view. So there's no new elriel moments, but you'll get a lot of new stuff anyway 😅 I would've said you don't have to read this part to understand part three, but when I was rereading the later parts a few hours ago, I realised there's some stuff that alludes to things in this part, so I strongly recommend you don't skip this 😅😅

Also, wow, some of my fave paragraphs I've ever written are in this part 😁 Bonus points if you can find them; there are four I'm thinking of in particular 😉

Word count: ~ 3.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed 😊 Next part up in two or three days 😊

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part II

__

It had been a pretty uneventful day as Elain worked through her new plant textbook. Feyre and Rhysand had decided to spend the weekend away at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were away doing things she wished not to think of, and Mor was at the Winter Court.

Amren had only been round in the mornings, probably to check Elain was still alive. She'd glance round the living room, examine some of those fine crystal glasses in the display cabinet and then leave. There was no difference today, though Elain always felt Amren's scrutiny upon her even when that muted silver gaze was directed elsewhere; perusing Rhys' wine collection had become a tired ruse.

So besides preparing and taking her meals with Nuala and Cerridwen, Elain had spent her afternoon with her book, making notes and copying drawings. The twins had gone off on some errands, so she'd wandered into the garden at some point to tend to her many plants, telling them how lovely they each were. The crocuses looked particularly stunning this autumn day, their pale violet colour breathing life into the shades beneath some of the trees.

With her book, she'd identified new weeds, digging into the soil to rip some pesky ones out. Sometimes she didn't want the help of a tool; sometimes she needed to feel those roots on her bare skin.

Harvesting the carrots and beetroot was also on the agenda today, along with seeding for some spectacular displays next year. She'd been collecting the seeds from some of her summer blooms, like those soft clouds of baby's breath, saving them to replant. These she sowed directly into ground she'd prepared days before, her fingers digging into the crumbly clumps of earth.

Autumn onions she'd plant tomorrow, perhaps. Feyre always remarked on how their strong taste complimented meats well, so Elain wanted to harvest some fresh for her sister for once. It'd take a few months of waiting, but there was little else better than picking out and eating food one had grown with their bare hands and the essential ingredients of love and care.

Setting her book on the patio table, Elain surveyed the garden. It was a good day's work. Plants watered and sown, weeds uprooted, and hands sweaty and soiled, Elain was proud of what she'd achieved today. There were no distractions, nothing to take her from the one thing she always found satisfaction in.

After a long shower, she found herself back in the garden with a cup of tea and a blanket. The sunset washed the sky in a blaze of red and orange glory before it yielded to the cool tones of twilight then night. Elain sat in silence, hands wrapped around her mug. How long would it be until someone's arms were wrapped around her, until she felt the warmth her sisters finally had?

Silly, these thoughts. Immortality stretched far ahead, there would be time to develop that companionship. Months and years were but a heartbeat in the life of a High Fae. She wouldn't even notice the years pass.

Or so everybody else kept saying.

With her tea finished, she perused the book of recipes she'd borrowed from Nuala. Some recipes jumped out, ingredients for which she'd been growing for a few months now. Pumpkin pie sounded especially delightful, the gourd having almost darkened and hardened to ripe quality just a couple days ago. They should be ready for harvest tomorrow.

A chill wind sent Elain inside to prepare and have her dinner in pleasant silence. Even her mind was quiet tonight. After washing her dishes, she stood by a bay window, fingers idly tapping the windowsill.

Faelights bobbed like tiny lamps, dotted through the garden. The full moon was now high in the sky, its ghostly glow illuminating the datura flowers she'd seeded half a year ago. She pulled on her blanket and went out again for a better look at those gorgeous blooms, the petals opening only at night.

Elain couldn't be happier she'd found seeds of a triple-flowered variety. They'd grown to produce large trumpets, three layers of petals ruffled against each other. Somehow she thought of her sisters as she crouched and stared at the flowers, each layer so similar, yet fighting for space and breath as it unfurled before another. It was only when they were all fully open that they could sigh along the night breeze as one, an ethereal song of togetherness, tinged with notes of poignancy, only heard by those with the will to look deeper.

The white petals were stained with velvet violet, a true vision in her garden. While the others had given her passing compliments on the flowers, Azriel had seemed stunned the first time he saw them, citing them his favourite of all the plants Elain had grown so far. Something about their shape and contrasting colours, he'd mentioned.

She smiled fondly at the memory, where his eyes sparkled as he reached for one of the soft petals.

Her hand lashed out to grab his wrist. 'Don't touch them; the leaves and stems are highly poisonous.'

His brows rose. 'You wouldn't think that at first sight. But they're beautiful, Elain. Truly magnificent,' he said, his smooth voice so low, a voice that was night given sound. And how befitting, as even those datura flowers seemed enraptured by his presence, one shy petal finally unfurling towards him.

She beamed at him. 'They like you. Flowers like it when you talk to and compliment them - but these ones haven't given me the same reaction as they have to you. I think they really like you, Azriel.'

His answering smile was heartbreakingly tender.

A few more seconds passed before she realised she still held his wrist. She silently let go.

It was a shame she'd have to dig out the datura shrub and move it inside for the winter; it did look magnificent in the moonlight.

The sky shifted past its midnight velvet, and still Elain crouched, admiring the flowers. She shivered in the night's chill. The stars above twinkled and glistened, cold and distant as ever, yet stunning - infinitely more striking than they'd ever been when she was human. A thousand different colours sparkled in that vast expanse, the moon a phosphorescent queen in the centre of her court.

The Night Court truly lived up to its name in the wee hours of the day. Its opulence never failed to mesmerise her; the enhanced Fae eyesight was at least one thing she was grateful for from this body.

Her eyelids became heavy and she yawned. Why was she still out here? It was late into the night; she should be in bed by now. But the night was so beautiful and it was so quiet and she wanted to appreciate it all just once. Just once without the expectations of others, without having to wear that miserable smile all the time.

Of course, it didn't look miserable, which is probably why almost nobody ever bothered to look deeper into Elain. She should be used to it by now, but it still felt - wrong. That most overlooked her so long as she wore a smile. That most didn't think her capable of feeling the utter bitterness and loneliness she had once seen so plain on her sisters' faces.

And in acknowledgement of her sisters' hardships, Elain didn't fault them for not looking, for not seeing her. To see past the thick blanket of darkness in one's own mind was a trial in itself. But it had been years since the war now. And still they didn't notice.

They didn't notice that Elain was being shredded from the inside out.

It was almost laughable. But not funny enough.

No, it was not funny that people still treated Elain like a child, that people wanted to keep Elain in some weird impasse of a stage between child and adult. She'd thought finally carrying out her duty and giving her hand in marriage would show everyone that she was growing up: Elain Archeron, middle born but first married. Of course it was still on her own terms, to a man whom she'd loved. A man who'd seen her through the rubble of her family's lives. But she'd overall hoped doing what was expected of her would be enough.

Clearly not. She didn't even know who she was any more. Did she ever? Everything she'd once yearned for, gone. That fragile human life would soon be just a speck on the horizon of her past.

She sighed. Rebuilding herself was going to take a long time.

But what would she have to do for people to see her, to listen to her? Throw a rage? Fall into a drunken stupor and break a few dozen bottles?

She definitely could, but those were not her. She was Elain Archeron. And so she would wait. Patience wasn't a bad thing at all; she saw it on the shadowsinger's face all the time, that tranquility and calmness she so wished to feel inside.

Azriel. Her heart softened as he entered her mind again, and she dug her fingers into the soil, if only to occupy her fidgety hands. As sure as the chaos of her visions these days, there was a mess of butterflies related to him she wasn't willing to show. Or understand.

Elain and the spymaster? Now that was laughable. Truly laughable. He was wise and patient, while she - well, everyone already thought her a child, and though he listened like no other around her, surely even he couldn't glimpse the adult she so desperately wanted everyone to see.

No, it was foolish to entertain the idea of a relationship with him. No matter how much he saw.

No matter that he was the first to see her since Graysen.

Elain exhaled. She stifled another yawn, smoothing out the soil, then brushed her hands clean. She wrapped the blanket closer around herself and stood. Twinkling stars and velvety darkness and -

There, a knot of shadows materialising at the far edge of the garden, collecting and swirling into a larger mass before Azriel himself stepped out and sagged against a tree. His shadows whirled and obscured him, a dark fire with him burning at the core.

Elain's voice left her throat before she even thought to call him and she ran over to his figure slumped in the dimness.

She couldn't help but say his name again as she neared. 'Azriel!'

Those beautiful hands fiddled with a Siphon, but he looked even worse up close. Fatigue dragged at his body, a second weight to all the muscle and armour he already had to carry. Sweat and dirt clung to him, his hair. At least the shadows were parting, swallowing each other and misting away as they often did around her. Perhaps she should ask someday why they did that. But not today, not when his breathing was so laboured.

She raised a hand - to do what, she had no idea. She couldn't just touch him right now. 'You don't look okay.'

Something else limned his features as he huffed a light laugh and said, 'I'm fine, don't worry.' His voice was raw, so starkly different to its usual icy smoothness. It was common for him to guard his emotions, but in his state, this kind of thinking was just unhealthy. What would it take for him to be honest with her?

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she said, lowering her hand. She studied the ground, embarrassed that she'd come up to him. What could she even offer in her pathetic childlike state when he was so clearly affected by his mission right now?

His hand rose. Her heart faltered, she had to do something, and she blurted, 'Can I wash your hair, please?'

His eyes widened, his entire composure crumbling. It wasn't often that the shadowsinger looked startled, but Elain was far too shy to show that she quite liked the effect her question had on him.

'You want to wash my hair?'

His face was so exquisite, it hurt to look at it. His eyes would be even worse; it wouldn't be the first time she was rendered speechless by their kind gaze. A myriad of colours swirled in their glistening depths - gorgeous greens and brilliant browns, all so natural and rich, if only she could look at them long enough to find their matches in the garden around her. Though, his eyes were an entire spectrum of colour in their own right. How would she ever pick out each and every shade?

And if she somehow did have the courage to meet his eyes now, what would she see of herself in their reflection?

A lovesick puppy? A doe-eyed, fearful fawn?

No, she didn't want to know.

So she swallowed and focused on his hair. Perhaps this Fae eyesight was a curse, for even his hair was shockingly fascinating. Only flat black from a distance, the faelights bobbing about the trees highlighted layer upon layer of silky raven locks up close. His hair was so dark it seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Mud stained one side of his head, and it was an effort to keep her hands from brushing it away, so she said, 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

He ran a hand through his hair, clumps of dirt falling out.

'You've managed to get some on your face, too.' There were light specks of mud and blood across his face, a more noticeable patch along his cheekbone, thrown into sharper relief by the faelights and his own weariness. Was that a cut beneath the patch? And another on his temple?

She leashed her arms.

What had happened? He wore the signs of a fight, but why would he come here when he knew Elain was the only one home?

His eyes bored into her face, but she refused to meet them. He seemed to lean forward then, stumbling.

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous that he wouldn't even acknowledge he was in need. Azriel rarely stumbled. Any fatigue Elain had felt just a while ago was now burrowing down a little longer. Her voice was firm when she spoke. 'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

His brows rose, but if Elain stood there one more moment she wouldn't have the courage to do anything for him. For herself - she could take care of someone else. She could do for Azriel what she hadn't done for Feyre all those years as a human.

And for Azriel, she could tend to the male who'd provided her with comfort and safety in this world of distress and danger.

So she pulled him along, clenching her jaw and refusing to look back. Her heart hammered in her chest but she continued, hand wrapped round his armoured arm. Her hand slid down to his wrist but just as she was about to replace her grip, he grabbed her other hand and pulled her into him.

The shadows instantly began to ensconce them, dozens of those cool tendrils twining like vines. The estate loomed huge before them, and Elain gripped Azriel's hand tighter. 

'My bathroom,' she said. Beneath the low whisper of those shadows, her blood thrummed, her heart so painfully obvious against her ribs now. It would be a wonder if the spymaster wasn't aware of it. Though she did hear another flutter above, right by her ear. But as expected, the shadows made quick work of their journey and she didn't have the chance to dwell on it further.

Now out of the comfort of Azriel's hold, Elain set down her blanket and made to grab a chair from her bedroom. His dark presence was so overwhelming that she exhaled lightly as she entered the room and took the chair. She dragged it to the sink, avoiding his gaze, and pulled a towel, soap and a large jug from the cupboard by the door.

As she settled the soap and jug on the sink, she dared a glance at him. He was still clad in full armour, those black scales gleaming like obsidian over his skin, his Siphons glistening jewels across his body. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this,' she said.

He inclined his head and tapped a Siphon, those scales lashing back into each other with cruel elegance. They were a mirror of their master: cold, controlled and unyielding, forged from scintillating darkness. He was a night sky riddled with stars; light existed if only one bothered to look for it.

Azriel's great wings righted themselves as he stood straight, now looking smaller in just his black tunic and trousers. Something about him seemed vulnerable without the armour, so Elain breathed, 'It's beautiful, all of it.' The hulking armour, the classic simplicity of the tunic and trousers, and the male who wore them all.

He was just so wonderful, Azriel. An enigma that could see her own. Her heart clenched.

Azriel rustled his wings, colour blossoming on his cheeks.

Elain blinked and pulled the chair out a little. 'Please sit.' As he sunk down, she rested the towel on his shoulders, hovering her fingers above his forehead. Her body tensed and her fingers remained suspended. It was like a spark of tension flickered in the space between their skin, teasing her, tempting her, taunting her.

After all, she'd offered to wash his hair, an act that would certainly require touching. But why was she so hesitant? She'd touched him before - kissed his cheek, even. Although that had been in the heat of adrenaline, a mark of her gratitude where a simple thank you wouldn't suffice, not for risking his own life for hers.

This was - what was this?

She finally lowered her fingers through that tense spark, pushing his head back against the sink. It was exhilarating, this contact, but he lowered his wings, shifting on the seat. Elain moved into the space he gave, turning on the tap as he went still. Just as her body was taut, taut as the skin of a drum.

She checked the water. Warm. It was time to start.

Azriel was looking up at her. Something like yearning swirled in his eyes.

He looked so tired. It made her heart ache.

'You can close your eyes,' Elain whispered. And he did.

___

Feedback's welcomed; thanks for reading 😊

If anyone wants to know what the datura flowers look like, CTTO:

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17

[that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick]

Rated G for Gosh Dang Near Everyone except people who don't like hurt/comfort sickfics

Word count: 1373

Summary: Winry insists on getting her covid shot as soon as Central offers it. Ed worries for her, even though she's fine. Until she's not.

A/N: written for @darkpersonapeace several days ago when she was recovering from her covid shot day-after yuckiness. Disclaimer though, I am not a medical professional, nor is this meant to be a realistic depiction of the typical side effects of the COVID-19 vaccine. This scenario is simply based on what my roommate experienced, and my side effects were far tamer. Let's kick covid in the butt, guys!

When the first COVID-19 vaccines made their way to Central City, Ed knew that Winry would want to be one of the first in line. Because that's how she was, after all. She always prioritized the needs and safety of others over the possible risks to her own well-being, especially when her automail patients were involved. It was one of the many reasons he'd married her.

However, Edward worried that she might develop some of the more drastic side effects, so he decided to accompany Winry on the train ride from Rush Valley to Central. After all, who knew what could happen if she was on her own, stranded hours away from help?

"Now, Winry, you know you can change your mind at any time, right? I'm not going to try to steer you away from this if it's what you're set on, but you know your patients and I would still respect your decision if you wanted to wait to make sure the vaccine doesn't cause any long-term damage to you, right?"

"Edward Rockbell," she frowned with her hands on her hips, doing nothing to diminish his pride in the name, "I could care less about some hypothetical damage if I even have half a chance at keeping my patients healthy and you know it. And besides, you never had such a high opinion of possible damage when you were involved." She raised an eyebrow.

"When I was involved, sure, but never when it was you, gearhead," he said softly, pulling her in for a hug. His hand held her head and ran down the length of her hair.

"Well, I'm doing it, Ed," Winry said into his shoulder. "Like it or not, I'm trying to protect you, too, even if I have to wait hours in line to do it."

"I could barely figure out what the heck you said between the mask and my shoulder, but with the way the line's going, I don't think you're gonna have to wait very long."

"Hm, I guess not."

"Now, I've researched this. You know you have to stay in the monitoring area for fifteen minutes afterwards, right? You know to stretch your arm so it doesn't get so sore, right? You know to keep your vaccination card…"

*****

Much to Edward's relief, Winry showed no signs of any negative side effects. They went out to dinner (unfortunately, at one of the restaurants the Colonel had recommended), and the train ride back to Rush Valley would have been almost boring if Ed hadn't entertained a child by drawing a transmutation circle that made a loud, garish toy when the child activated it.

And then they got in the car.

Winry cranked the car and made a stop at the nearest gas station while they took turns going to the bathroom. Two minutes down the road, however, the blood began to drain from Winry's face.

"Winry, are you doing alright?"

"I'm fine, Ed. It's not like I can't drive or anything." Several seconds later, Ed spoke again.

"Are you sure? Because you look like you're about to throw up."

"I'm—" she blanched.

"Winry Rockbell, pull over or I'll pull over for you!"

Thankfully, she obeyed and put the car in park.

"Now, don't move. I'll come around and get you."

"Ed, I'm not that bad."

He opened her door and pulled her out. "Get some fresh air, Winry. I'm gonna help you to the passenger's side, okay? This is why I came with you."

"I don't need—" she stumbled, cutting off the rest of her sentence.

"You were saying?" Ed chuckled after catching her with the arm that was already around her.

"Oh, just drop me in the car, will you?"

Fortunately, it was only a half hour drive to the other side of the city, but Ed feared that Winry's condition might worsen drastically in even that short a time frame.

First, he noticed her breaths get shorter and faster.

"Winry, do you need me to roll the window down? I'd help you on your side if I could."

"Y-yeah, maybe."

A few minutes later, he heard her whimpering quietly. He laid a comforting hand on her thigh. "What's happening? Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know. I should have known this would happen. Even a normal flu shot wipes me out the whole next day, plus I hear it's worse if you've had covid before, and who knows, maybe I did, and—" he squeezed her leg, and she added in a small voice, "Maybe you could hold my hand?"

"Of course I'll hold your hand, hon," he smiled for her sake, adding under his breath, "and maybe speed a bit so we can get you home faster."

A few more minutes, and her whimpers grew louder. Winry's hand gripped his like a lifeline.

"Ed, I can't do this," she panted.

"You're so freaking strong, Winry. Just hold on a little longer. Squeeze my hand as tight as you want."

Her bone-crushing grip renewed his sense of urgency.

"Help me," she pleaded.

"What can I do, baby?"

"Help me," she echoed. "It hurts. It hurts so much."

"I'm getting you home as fast as I can. You're amazing, Winry."

She only moaned in response.

"I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die," she wept.

"Shh, I love you too much for that. You're my wife. You're my strong, brilliant, amazing wife, and I'd give up my entire body before I'd let you die. You hear me?"

"Mhm."

"Hey, do you remember when I said your hands are meant to give life?"

"Mhm."

"Well, keep holding my hand so that my hand give you life. We're so close. Just hang in there."

"I still wanna die," she sniffed.

"I'm gonna do what I can, okay, baby?"

Ed did his best to keep his hands from trembling. He had to stay strong for Winry. But what if this was a rare side effect? What if she actually was dying? No. No. It was just a vaccine. It'd be ridiculous if she was actually dying, but it didn't keep him from wondering if she needed to see a doctor. But please, he prayed to any deity that would listen, please let me do something for Winry.

So he sang. He sang her the lullabies of Trisha Elric. He sang her the old, cheesy love songs she had a soft spot for. When he ran out of those, he sang an oddly gentle version of some pop punk songs he listened to. He sang anything he could think of, from classic musicals to popular songs that Winry danced to, even if he thought they were trash.

Although her moans and whimpers didn't grow any quieter, she mewled, "You sing really pretty, Ed. Why don't you do it more?"

"If you make it through this, I'll sing for you whenever you want, Mrs. Rockbell. What song do you want next? We're almost home, and then you can lie down and I'll get you whatever you want. Does that sound okay?" He pressed a kiss to her hand, keeping his eyes on the road. He'd probably regret his promises to sing, but right then, he couldn't care less.

Ed took her song request and parked in front of their home shortly after. Walking over to the passenger side, he carefully pulled Winry out and carried her up the stairs past her shop to their apartment above it. She curled into his chest until he laid her on their bed.

"Equivalent exchange," he kissed her burning forehead. "You've taken care of me when you and Granny had to give me life-saving surgery after I lost my arm and leg. Now I get to look after you when you need me."

Winry smacked him weakly. "Alchemy freak."

"Gearhead," he laughed softly. "Try to sleep, if you can. I'll be right here the whole time if you need my hand again. Just tell me if you need anything, and I'll get it."

She smiled, then crumpled with a moan. After several seconds, she turned her head to look at Edward.

"Even if I want a purple polka dotted hippopotamus?"

Ed laughed. "Even if you want a purple polka dotted hippopotamus."