And so we have a wonderful meeting of an author with an idea he adores playing the role of the unstoppable force, and his inability to write within alternative universes and his own writing flaws accepting the part of the immovable object. And that's ignoring the wanton procrastination! Let the battle begin!
Faux Flames and Ice
Chapter 1: Prelude To The Night
The topics of destiny and preordained events are often mocked and berated for their lack of promise, their lack of freedom, and their lack of explanation. Many would rather begin their lives in a die roll and be given the tools to possibly succeed, rather than receive an offer no one would call luxurious, but that you could learn to love, especially when your hair grows grayer, and you realize life's happiness comes from simple things, like the rustling of your hair by a girl you'd love to hold, or finding a lighter when lost in the snow.
But perhaps much of future events and their past brethren are mostly set in place with, but with a small bit of wiggle room; say Caesar avoided Brutus's knife lunge into his back thanks to a well-timed sneeze, but Cassius immediately took his own dagger and introduced it to Julius's jugular. Or maybe Hitler did create the first atomic bomb, but it was manufactured with a crippling flaw, and upon his pressing the big shiny red button the military base he resided in exploded, a large battalion of Nazis getting caught in the blast as well.
Perhaps it is not for simplicity's sake, nor for the sake of punishment, and certainly not for no reason at all, but for the purpose of putting things as right as they can be. So in a reality wherein Jake the Dog, tasked with crafting a wish to set right the Lich's and Finn's wrongs, refused to wish for anything besides a grande size, seven-cheese bean burrito, Farmworld Finn did indeed take a turn for the worse.
And yet, in fate's vast kindness, a turn for the better was offered after one thousand years had passed, in a world one might call quite familiar… for the most part.
"Ladeeda! La la la la laaaaa!" The icy royal crooned, his lithe fingers delicately grasping a nail file and wielding it with dexterity and insanity in equal measure. The harsh scraping of metal on ice rang through the castle's winding and derelict halls, the echo driving penguins to seek the ice-water in refuge.
The Ice Prince grinned maniacally as he finished his creation. The five inch Bonnibel Bubblegum stood with a fierce sense of pride in her exact curves, meticulously measured edges, and aesthetic superiority. If the ice the statue had been constructed from had been pink, it would have been a perfect replica.
As it stood, the Prince was more than pleased with his creation. Careful to use his "real arm" as he liked to call it, the deranged boy held up the figurine, doting upon it with his white gleaming eyes.
"She will love it, won't she Gondor?" Finn's ghost murmured in the direction of a reclined penguin, whose stomach rumbled in response, and who desperately wished his loco master would stop being a few leaves short of a willow tree and somehow make it with the Candy Princess. Gondor had heard she liked to feed animals spaghetti. That was better than having to forage for the ears of arctic animals that had fallen off from frostbite.
"I can just see her reaction… Ohhh, Ice Prince, your lips are soooo coooolllld! How sexy!" He whispered, pecking the statue's lips with the most delicate of kisses, like a draft that only touches the tip of your toes and leaves the rest of your body to the warmth of your bed.
The Prince knew how special today was, after all; it was well worth imagining what would be his. Princess Bubblegum was throwing an extravagant party that he was more than happy to cra—er, attend. Dressed in his best navy suit he might add, so dark it could be easily mistaken as black.
"And you know what they say about black ice, Gondor… dangerous stuff, fo realz," He muttered to himself as he made his way to his bedroom and therefore his closet. He reached the alcove to the room before halting, his head falling to the ground.
"…What if it doesn't work? I'll just take her again?" He whispered, his jagged reflection greeting his eyes from the floor. "Couldn't I make her happy? As cold as I am, couldn't a song, a kiss, just a touch make her see what I would give her?" Somewhere in the back of his mind, the Ice Prince considered that question on repeat as he strode to his navy suit, his bad arm's metallic fingers narrowing as he began to run them through his beautiful white hair. It was parteeeeeey time.
Far away, in the land of the Fire Kingdom, Princess Ember Pyra blushed lightly (well, considering that gamma rays involved, maybe lightly didn't quite cut it) at the curves in her gown. She rarely wore anything that was red, as staring at the color could lead to her anger boiling over, but tonight her father had insisted on this ruby number. It had trills along its neck, bottom and arm slits, resembling small snaking flames, and the body was equally imitative of her element, spiraling up her glowing body.
Ember did not like to think of herself as a particularly modest girl, but she had a general rule that clothes should divine their beauty from themselves and from how they fell upon a woman's body, rather than what they showed of a woman's body. And the sizzling line of cleavage the dress's low cut revealed was quite particularly the latter.
The poor girl didn't even want to think about some dope trying to lay his mitts on her… though they would only get a first-degree burn as a result (or a second or third if they didn't get the memo and keep their paws off).
For if modest, Ember was certainly not humble, and regarded her sparking body as a temple. A flame needed to receive nourishment, a place to grow, and soft stoking. She was determined to find all three, and knew that doing so was the equivalent of gazing high up the social ladder.
What better place to start than a royal ball thrown by Princess Bubblegum? While they weren't exactly close, Ember enjoyed the pink girl's company, and held her in high regard for giving the burning girl such a chance to scope out a dashing suitor. As much as she detested the holes within her garment, she could not deny that it was most likely going to get the job done well.
And so she dreamed of her Prince Charming, not at all the Jack Frost whose snow-white peach fuzz hummed as he lifted off his castle's peak, both a mere hour away from arriving at a ball that was meant to be quite uneventful, and would be decidedly the opposite.
Ahhh, destiny, the wrenches you throw. Speaking of which…
Within the bowels of a stunning Tree-Fort, a Vampire yawned as her eyes scanned the kitchen floor, her mind slowly becoming convinced that she knew who had committed the great treachery against her.
"Jake, you dopey wiener-dog!" Marceline shouted, spinning 180 degree and floating back toward the bedroom shared between her and man's best friend (a distinction the dog had in regards to her as well). "Did you steal my sock?"
I have never trusted myself to write an AU fic. Changing around parts of an established fiction? Alright, but never an outright departure. And yet here we stand; this is just the tip of the iceberg too. I have some fun changes planned for this.
Also, I've been meaning to write something FP/Finn based (I don't consider this a spoiler considering the title, genre, and obvious set-up), and while this isn't exactly that I think it's similar in weird ways. Speaking of FP, I apologize for the name being a giant fire pun. Even though I love the name Ember. Pyra? Not so much.
I have no idea what updates for this will look like, but I'm planning on keeping it short both in the short term and long term, so hopefully they'll be fairly small waits. Thanks for reading!
