#FINALLY finished this. its been sitting as a wip in my folder for like 3 weeks

[triptychofvoids]

its- by hylia its link and mineru with the steel chair !!!!

[statustemporary]

running home to your sweet nothings, chapter 2

STORY SUMMARY: His informality is refreshing; like water in a desert, Emma is parched and desperate for more.

“Take note, Princess, that I take no pleasure in pointing out the susceptibilities of your security or skills. It is my loyalty to you that wants you to remain safe.” There’s an earnestness to his voice and Emma feels her cheeks heat. His breath fans against her face in soft puffs as he speaks and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile.

“What have I done to earn such loyalty other than wear a crown?” she asks in an equally quiet voice. She’s breathless as she speaks but she yearns for his unfiltered response.

// or the four gifts of killian jones

RATING: M for Mature Audience (Implied sexual conduct, violence)

WORD COUNT: 9,002 words

TAGS: Alternative Universe, Enchanted Forest AU, Blacksmith!Killian, Violence, Implied Sexual Conduct

AO3

AUTHOR'S NOTE: had over 5k of this chapter sitting on my computer for well over a year. and have had 8k of chapter 3 for even longer than that (but who knows what of that will be kept).

anyway the first part of this chapter and the last part are my favorites, especially the first. the last part has been in my mind since i expanded this story beyond the prompt of gifts from killian lol. so yay for finally writing it! <3

having a lot of trouble staying inspired for ouat, especially over the last few months as i fundamentally disagree with some cast members stances. sorry not sorry for my inability to separate art from the artist. just trying to empty out my WIPs folder on my folder so i can fully move on. current WIPs will be finished. at some point.

anyway (x2) enjoy! sorry its been a year and a half lol

***

two and a half centuries ago.

late summer.

ella.

Her fingertips feel like fire.

Water crashes against the steep cliffs of Segovia and the freezing sea jumps up and nips at her exposed ankles. She pays no attention to the chill that travels her body or the way her sandy blonde hair whips in her face from the harsh winds. Instead, she keeps her eyes closed and hands held out in front of her.

Her magic gets weaker each time she uses it.

Magic had been thought to be extinct for years in Misthaven, the inhabitants losing it centuries back. The fairies retained their magic but even with their resources, could find no reasoning behind the loss for Misthaven’s people. Some of those in Misthaven believed that the Dark One was draining the land and its people of their magic for a dark curse but none had been cast. Others felt the magic was limited and once it was gone, there was no replenishing it.

And then Ella had been born as a product of True Love, and the first glance at pure magic in nearly three centuries. Her magic was respected by most and feared by others. When the Second Ogre War started a year ago, it became an expectation that she’d use her magic to help Misthaven succeed.

So she did. Her mother always told her to have courage and be kind, and what better way to live that to the fullest than doing all she could to protect the other citizens of Misthaven from a hostile takeover by the ogres?

Except… her magic is waning.

Like a wet cloth being hung to dry, she feels herself slowly losing her magic until there is close to none left. It is proving to be a problem on the battlefield as she doesn’t have the energy or the magic anymore to keep Misthaven from sending in soldiers.

Without her magic, she has no way to protect Kit.

She feels a momentary surge of energy flow through her body as her magic weaves through the dirt and pebbles on the cliffside, feels it singing as it circles a collection of ferrum.

There’s not much left, she thinks to herself of both the rocks and her magic.

Her work is hasty and not as clean as she wishes it could be but she knows that time is against her now.

Ella pulls the ferrum rocks from their place in an alcove on the cliff and piles them on a flat area. The sea water is getting rougher and wets her hair, her dress beyond repair from how the elements have thrashed it about. She quiets her mind and focuses on her Kit, letting her magic flow through her for one of the last times.

Black hair with a curl to it she loved to run her fingers through. A big heart guarded behind a charming smile. Those piercing blue eyes that could keep her rooted to the spot. He had her heart from the moment they met on horseback and she never looked back.

Her hands are burning as she opens her eyes. The rocks have transformed from separate entities into pieces of armor. Lining the edges of each piece is a design born from their love.

Stags to symbolize their first meeting. Shoes to symbolize how they found one another. A vine to connect to the three symbols together, representing their partnership and bond.

The last of her magic flares under her fingertips and Ella picks up the chest plate, lifting it to her face.

“Please take care of my love,” she whispers, sealing her plea with a soft kiss and a spark.

A feeling of emptiness envelops her in an embrace and she fights to wrap her arms around herself to keep out the cold it brings. She doesn’t have time to wallow in the loss of something so intricate to who she is. To stand there and focus on the ache in her heart or the hollow feeling in her chest is precious time wasted when she could be helping.

Ella takes a deep breath and marches past the longing in her fingertips for something just out of reach and instead gathers the armor she’s crafted. She cannot afford to let her emotions take control at this moment. That can wait for her lonely bedchambers late in the night when no one can hear her cry. For now, she needs to see her Kit off.

*

five and twenty.

early winter.

somewhere in the enchanted forest.

emma.

The flying simians attack on their fifth day.

*

Leaving Misthaven comes with an ease that unsettles Emma. The tension coiling around her shoulders refuses to alleviate as the castle walls become mere specks when she looks behind herself. Her posture remains rigid, her fitted armor, a gift from Killian, digs into her forearms from how restricted she keeps her movements.

Horse riding has never been a favorite activity of Emma’s. Being taught to sit astride a giant beast in the few moments of freedom she had growing up always felt more uncomfortable than liberating. Forever the black sheep of her family, her parents and their friends would guide their horses with ease while her confidence remained shaky.

Years have passed since her first riding lessons and yet unease still sits in the pit of her stomach. However, this time she can’t tell if it’s from the animal being squeezed between her boney knees or the mission she’s assigned herself.

She knows Killian believes her actions to be dumb, reckless, and completely unnecessary, but this is for her people. She has to protect them.

Besides, she will not let him throw himself on a sword just to spare her the slight inconvenience and possible danger. He’s much too important to her for her to let him volunteer himself like he tried. And he should give her more credit – he did teach her how to defend herself after all.

Emma ducks her head when a branch gets in her path and nearly falls off of her horse when she tries to sit up again.

A roaring laugh escapes a knight from behind her and she knows immediately that it belongs to Will Scarlet.

The knights that are with her trot through the forest without a worry as they move through Misthaven’s trees. This is just another day for them, another assignment, another potential battle. They have seen the worst of the worst and it has not scared them away yet.

Her bravado has been a front and she’s sure at least some of the most experienced of the group could read through it. But her people need her and if she must fake the confidence of a seasoned general, then she will do so, no matter how inadequate she feels.

The last and only time she’d gone to battle had been against Regina. The Evil Queen had caught them all off-guard, able to sneak into Misthaven by piggybacking on the magic of a fairy, they learned months after the fact, and Emma was unprepared, her magic unruly and uncontrollable.

“She must have been weak,” Emma tried to reason as Blue stood by her bed, her parents sitting at the foot.

“You have powerful magic, Princess,” Blue explained. “Magic belonging to True Love. Most magic users access their power through intellect. For them, it is a learned skill. You are rare, Princess Emma. You were born with it and you access your magic through your emotions. Emotions have the ability to create incredible magic, especially light magic, the likes of which the realm has never seen before.” She watched the fairy’s eyes slide over to her parents. Never before had she felt like such a fraud.

“The magic I used wasn’t light. I was angry. I wanted her gone,” Emma choked out.

Blue shook her head. “Anger is easy. It is the most natural emotion there is. The magic you used was made from love, Princess Emma. Love is the most powerful magic of all.”

She pulled her blankets tighter around her body, dragged her knees to her chest.

It certainly didn’t feel like love. How can ending someone’s life come from love? How can allowing them to suffer and not feeling remorse for it come from love?

Emma felt empty. She mentally reached towards her magic to feel it straining to return her call. What had always been an overabundance in her life – a threat to herself and those she loved – was barely there.

“What happened to it?” she asked, eyes full of tears and her hand shaking as she held it out of the blanket. “My magic,” she continued, voice cracking. “It – it isn’t all there. What happened to it?”

She missed the looks of sympathies shared between the three adults in the room before they broke the news to her.

Too much magic. Exhausted it. Body needed to recover. Might not come back.

She wept.

At least now, as she rides towards an unknown foe, she finds comfort in the fact that she’s not unprepared.

The sword Killian made for her bounces against her upper thigh as the horse below her trots down the dirt pathways. Its’ comforting weight at her side keeps the lessons he taught her in her mind. Their sparing sessions have made her almost as good of a swordsman as he is and holding a sword no longer feels awkward. His work has made her feel like the sword is an extension of her hand.

It also, unsurprisingly, feels like home.

Because with every remembrance of their sparing sessions, she recalls the feel of his lips against her mouth and his skin on hers. The way his raised eyebrow and smirk could make her heart race and how his presence made her feel like her magic was sparking back to life.

Her fingertips tingle and Emma glances down and imagines a faint glow surrounding them before the neigh of a horse breaks her reprieve.

Robin rides to her left while Will rides to her right, Lancelot and Little John scouting ahead with Dorothy following up behind. It is an odd group of knights that gathered at the barn to follow her along enemy lines but she trusts their abilities.

Robin, Lancelot, and Dorothy are the veterans of the group. The years of their training together totaling just shy of twice Emma’s age. Little John prefers to stay back, his tall stature a hindrance more often than not, but his abilities with a bow and arrow are lethal. Will is the youngest of the group, energetic like some of the pups on nearby farmlands and eager to prove himself worthy, though there’s an edge to his attitude that gives way to the wisdom learned on the streets he dragged himself from.

His sometimes-skittish behavior reminds her of what Killian must have been like as a boy before he and his brother happened upon Misthaven’s shores.

The trees are quiet for most of their ride. Branches and leaves sway in the wind, a soft rustling filling the silent air. Robin quickly established a system amongst the group – silence in the forest, ears searching for any sign of the enemy, and chatter allowed in the villages they pass. As they continue their journey, the villages become farther and farther between, silence becoming their most often companion.

The green of the forest brings a sense of comfort to Emma. They remind her of the color of her mother’s eyes and if she closes her own hard enough, she can imagine herself back at the castle, debating in the war room about next steps once Emma has news for her.

Her mother sends birds often. She realizes quickly that she must have her own system for ensuring one reaches her every few hours during the first two days. As much as this is her first big journey away from the castle, one her parents tried to talk her out of, this is also their first time being away from her. So she welcomes the birds and sends her own short messages back, confirming her safety and decreeing no news.

Longing burrows in her chest as by the third day, the birds only come twice. When the sun rises on the fourth, her mother’s accompanying note breaks the news she would only be able to send one bird a day.

Loneliness fights to take hold.

“There was once a family in Arendelle who had a tutor staying in their home,” Will starts as they near the outskirts of a village. Their travel companions groan and Emma bites back a smile. Propriety is hard to drop, even for this ragtag group, but Will sheds it fastest and most often. The earlier chastising from Robin fell on deaf ears as, to all of their mortification, Will told the dirtiest joke to ever grace Emma’s ears.

The snorting laugh he earned from his princess seemed to only spur the knight on further, as every village they arrived at brought forth another joke.

It eases her burdens, lessens the stress on her shoulders, and lets her forget the danger ahead, even if just for a moment.

“The tutor came so often that he felt himself at home and even had a turn with the housemaid, the nurse, and the mistress herself.” Emma’s gasp only brings a wolfish grin to Will’s face and she spots from the corner of her eye the death glare that Robin is sending his way. “When the master of the house discovered this, he summoned the young man to his private chamber and said, ‘I find it unmannerly of you, sir, that in taking your please of my entire household, you have made an exception of me.’”

Her roaring laugh echoes in the quiet village and she notices that even Lancelot, propriety in the flesh, cracks a grin.

“Where do you come up with this stuff?” she wonders.

“The gutter, undoubtedly,” Dorothy pipes up.

“I don’t visit you that often,” Will shoots back, his grin widening at the hard stare and white-knuckled grip of his comrade. “I learned meself such a grand knowledge like any growing lad did – eavesdropping at the tavern.”

Robin’s horse trots forward just slightly as the man leans over to catch a proper look at Will. “All of that eavesdropping and not a single manner picked up?”

“You give him too much credit!” Little John calls from the front.

“Oi! Just because I’m ordered not to kill you doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“Get a new line already, Scarlett!”

“Settle down, boys,” Dorothy says. “We’re getting close to the village center.”

Lancelot immediately adds, “Eyes out. Something’s not right.”

She registers the smell a few moments later and recoils in disgust.

Smoke. Wood. Flesh.

The distinct smell of burning flesh haunts her nightmares, lingers in the back of her throat as an aftertaste when her thoughts go astray. A quick succession of deep breaths keeps the urge to retch at bay. Still, she cannot will her horse to move.

“Princess Emma,” Robin calls softly, spotting and turning back to her. He lets the others go before them and she watches as they cover their noses and mouths with a cloth. It would be wise to do the same but her muscles won’t move. “Princess Emma,” Robin tries again. “Are you alright?”

“I – I’m fine,” she insists. He only nods and eyes her for a moment.

“Best cover up. You don’t want to be breathing in things like this.” He hands her a spare cloth and she ties it behind her head, mimicking Robin’s own movements. When she completes it, he gives her a nod and a smile, from what she can tell by his crinkling eyes. He gestures her forward but it takes a minute for her body to listen to her commands.

Their ride towards the nearby village settles a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. Images of Regina flash in her head no matter how hard she tries.

She spends the walk reliving Regina’s death. The way her skin melted under her gaze. The lack of guilt for what she’d done.

It terrifies her how clear everything still is for her.

Keeping her mind in the present is the hardest part so Emma tries to listen for any noises from around them.

The village is still a half hour away yet the entire forest is as if all signs of life have disappeared. No birds chirping – not even the ones that her mother has been sending after her to keep in touch. No crickets making music, no bees buzzing, not even the rustling of the tree branches.

Silence has never terrified her as much as this.

Ten minutes from the center of the village and they see another person for the first time. They struggle to walk and burns cover most of their body. Like in a trance, they ignore every offer of help coming from Emma and her companions. She moves to get off her horse when the person throws up, blood decorating the forest floor, before collapsing into the pool of their own fluids. The sight takes her breath away and she has to blink away the tears.

“Stay close,” Lancelot warns as they reach the settlement.

Stragglers stumble their way down the streets of the village. Their clothing disheveled and singed in spots, thatched roofs gone from most of the buildings and some still burn as they enter. It looks as if a storm of wind and fire rolled through and the village has yet to recover.

Something large sails overhead, a bird looking much different than she’d ever seen before. Its cawing sounds are unlike anything she’s heard before and it sends a chill down her spine. Four days on the road and an unsettling feeling returns to the center of her chest. She works hard to calm her panicking heart and instead places her trust in the guards around her.

“Let’s find a place to settle for the night,” Robin says, eyes darting to the sky.

They discuss quickly and quietly where the best place would be and settle on an abandoned stable nearby. A river runs behind it and even that doesn’t make a sound.

The stable doesn’t seem to have been damaged by storms like so many homes have been in the village, meaning something else drove the family away. Her only guess is the nearby enemy encampments, but this feels like something more.

Almost like there’s magic waiting for her across the river but what little there is in her can’t reach far enough to grab it and understand what is happening.

Instead, they pair up and ensure that everyone has someone looking out for them. Emma’s never felt so vulnerable until she had to empty her bladder as Dorothy remained vigilant on all that surrounds them. Someone could come up behind them at any moment and her sword was lying on the ground at her feet, swallowed by her riding trousers.

She quickly finds comfort in pulling her dagger from her boot and holding it in her hand as she goes.

Most of the villagers don’t even spare them a second glance as they move about. There’s a haunted look in their eyes that makes Emma roll her shoulders in an attempt to ease the brewing tension. Odd shapes keep flying between the treetops casting unfamiliar shadows on the ground. The animals never come close enough to identify but Emma still feels their eyes glaring into the back of her head.

The group finishes the necessary tasks quickly before retreating back to the stables come nightfall.

The horses stomp restlessly as they settle in during the late evening. The hair on the back of her neck stands up at their unease and the feeling spreads throughout their group. Wailing – the heart-wrenching, sore throat, dry heaving kind – echoes from different corners of the village and grief hangs heavy in the air.

“We won’t stay for more than a night,” Lancelot says. “One guard at all times. No one leaves this stable tonight. Is that understood?” A round of nods comes from the group and the knight assigns shifts.

“What about me?” Emma asks.

“With all due respect, Princess, I cannot afford to have you on guard. Rest. Your work is tomorrow.”

His decision is hard to swallow but Emma nods anyway. It wouldn’t do good to throw a tantrum among the people whose job is to protect her. She will let it slide for tonight, her stomach twisting in uncomfortably fast motions. But tomorrow she will take part.

It takes a great effort to not stomp and grumble on her way to her sleeping spot but apparently it still isn’t good enough as it gets a laugh from Robin. He lounges against one of the closed stable doors, a picture of ease with his legs stretched in front of him and his ankles crossed.

She halfheartedly glares at the man before she attempts to fluff the hay. It’s certainly a far cry from a palace pillow but it’ll have to do.

“Is everything alright, Princess Emma?” he asks. They are the only two at their end of the stables, the others working over a strategy near the entrance.

“I had hoped for better accommodations,” she answers after a moment, teasing smile on her lips. He grins quick even as her attention drifts to the huddle once again.

“Apologies, Your Highness. Next time we will find the stable with silk sheets and a feathered bed.”

Instead of continuing in a light banter, she keeps her focus on Lancelot. “You know I am capable with a sword,” she says, her tone questioning.

“Of course, Princess,” Robin answers. His lips quirk up as if entertained.

“Then I should be on watch as well. You all need as much rest as possible for us to continue our journey tomorrow.”

“While I have no doubts in your abilities, it is best for you to rest tonight.”

“I am not that tired.”

Almost immediately after the words leave her mouth, she fights back a yawn and fails. Robin grins at the attempt. He watches her for a moment before a somber expression graces his features. “You are not underestimated, please know that,” he starts. “But we have no clue what attacked the village. Your safety is our top priority and it will make all of our lives easier if you accept that as well.”

His words serve as a necessary reminder that everyone with her is risking their own lives for her mission. They are trailing the edges of enemy territory, an enemy that gets more terrifying the more they discover, and are hoping to sneak to the site for materials unnoticed. It’s a monumental task, one with no guarantee of return, and she bites hard on her tongue to repress the urge wanting to say she can do it on her own.

She’s felt like she’s been on her own for so long, trapped in her golden cage dressed as a palace. Forced to be her own friend and entertain herself, teach herself things her parents were too scared of, coping with her situation all alone.

She was on her own against Regina, her parents powerless to stop her. She was alone when she woke up in the infirmary months later and without an idea of what happened.

Always so alone, always so lonely.

Then Killian inserted himself into her life for one night and flipped everything on its head. Immediately they fell into the role of partners with a common task, working together silently, clicking right away. For the first time in her life, loneliness was not her only companion.

The time after he disappeared allowed that numbing loneliness to creep its way back into her life only to be banished once again at his return.

She loves her people and would do anything for them but in truth… He is who she is doing all of this for. He is who she will return home to.

Robin’s face holds a far-off look and Emma’s heart clenches at the familiarity of it.

“Do you have anyone you’d like to write a message to? I can have one of my mother’s birds deliver it…” she offers, hesitant and uncomfortable. As much as they have found a banter within the group over their days of travel, Emma still doesn’t know the knights guarding her on her mission. They are familiar faces, ones she’s seen throughout the palace over the years, but Killian is the natural extrovert, learning about everyone he meets. She barely remembers any of their last names but she’s sure he could recall every story they’ve ever told him.

He'd make a wonderful leader. His courage, strength, bravery, sense of justice… Killian is everything a people should hope their leader to be and yet he still deems himself unworthy for some reason. Despite that, they cannot deny themselves the connection that stretches between them. She closes her eyes and hears his voice in her ear about how they make quite the team. It becomes all she can focus on and she feels a warmth fill her body, the outside world sounding softer, more far away. The sensations stay with her when she opens her eyes again and even when she manages to let a yawn slip.

Robin has a soft look on his face as their eyes meet. “Thank you,” he says. “I’ll scribe something in the morning so you’ll have it ready.”

She nods her head and settles in, back against the bale of hay. The armor, a gift from Killian a few years ago, digs into her arms and waist. She shifts unable to find a comfortable lounging position and stifles another yawn to Robin’s amusement.

“What?” she huffs.

“Nothing, nothing…” he trails off with an amused smile. “You just remind me of my son. Roland.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, he’s also quite stubborn to sleep.” He pauses. “He’s five.”

A roll of her eyes earns another chuckle from his direction but Emma concedes and lays her head down.

Sleep finds her in a light sort of way, dangling on the edge of consciousness and never letting her slip deep enough to dream. It is the sleep of someone on alert.

The creaking of the stable door is quiet for the most part but the sound still dances in Emma’s ears. She awakens, eyes blinking slowly as she tries to adjust to the darkness of the stable. Little John’s tall figure fills the only light coming into the stables from the gap in the door and Emma barely realizes, based on the shift rotation, that it’s the middle of the night.

“Whatsthematter?” Her words slur together as sleep circles the borders of her consciousness. A soft rain patters against the wood roof and she can hear the soft stomps of footsteps in mud.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Little John says in a quiet urgence. He keeps turning his head to look out the door and Emma struggles to sit up with her armor on.

“I’ll help,” she manages to say but before she can get up, Little John is outside, the stable door slamming shut behind him. The sound reverberates around the enclosed structure, immediately waking the other knights. They rush to a standing position and bombard her with questions that she doesn’t have answers to. Her mind runs blank and she only relays the short sentences they exchanged.

Robin picks up his crossbow from beside his sleeping area and slings it over his shoulder.

“You are not going after him,” Lancelot says, stepping into Robin’s path.

“Little John is like a brother to me! I’m not leaving him alone out there!”

“And going out after him, in this weather and in a town as dangerous as this, will weaken all of us.” Lancelot breathes out heavily, glancing at the stoic expression on Dorothy’s face and the crestfallen look on Will’s. “We will search at dawn. We will be able to track his footprints in the mud then. For now, rest.”

Robin stands still in a stare-off with Lancelot. Though neither one moves, their eyes dart around, a silent conversation amongst comrades, until Robin steps back in defeat and practically throws his crossbow to the ground. Will moves forward in a quick motion and brings Robin to a far corner of the stables, whispering quiet reassurances to the older gentleman.

“We’re going to find him, alright?” Will says in a whisper that just barely makes Emma’s ear.

“Come on,” Dorothy says from her other side and Emma jumps. “Get back to sleep.”

“But –”

“No buts. Sleep is the best thing you can do right now. Got it?”

Emma nods, sighing heavily. Her eyes watch the different knights amongst her. The ability to read lips is not one that she possesses but she still tries, to no avail. Her questions go unanswered as they talk to each other and not her, and exhaustion tugs at the back of her mind again.

So she lays her head on a bale of hay and clutches her dagger under the folds of her riding outfit with one ear out for the slightest noise.

The next morning, the group sets out to look for Little John. A search that very quickly becomes useless. Little John’s tracks stop five feet from the stable with no indication of where else he could have gone.

Dorothy growls in frustration. “It doesn’t make any sense. There’s nowhere he could’ve gone. His tracks stop right here. Nothing more.”

Robin mumbles to himself while he alternates his glare between Lancelot and the ground. Emma’s heart feels for the Black knight. Leadership means making the tough decisions and she knows from the look of apprehension on his face that his next plan will not be a popular one.

Expectedly, there is a fight about pausing their search to continue forward with the mission. Lancelot stands his ground though and within a few hours, they’re back on their trek, horses trotting through the forest grounds. Everyone does double duty with their eyes scanning the ground for any clues of Little John’s whereabouts with no success.

Will slows his horse to come beside Emma by the late afternoon. “How are you holding up?” he asks.

Her mind has been elsewhere the entire ride. Killian occupies most of her thoughts, a centering focus that keeps her from losing herself in despair. The way he raises a single eyebrow at her to tease, taunt, and flirt. The feeling of his arms around her waist. How he loves to use the rough skin of his stump to tickle her side. His eyes, bluer than any ocean she’d seen with depths of untold stories he’s yet to share with her.

She focuses on what will happen when she gets home. He’ll no doubt want to reprimand her for kissing a commoner in front of the guards, regardless of the fact the commoner was him, and she’ll try to ignore his pushes to talk.

But then Emma remembers how one of those guards is now missing and her “when she gets home” turns into an “if she gets home”.

If she still had her magic, she could’ve found Little John by now. She could have magicked herself to the cliffs of Segovia and home within a day. No one would have disappeared. Her kingdom wouldn’t be closing in on a nearly six-decade war with more losses than stars in the sky and already stretched incredibly thin. Killian wouldn’t have been inspired to sign up and he’d still have his hand.

Anger races through her blood and she feels her body grow warm, cheeks get hot under her fury. It all leads back to Regina. Living off of revenge against a child who was manipulated when she thought she was helping… the pain of her refusal to see the truth – see that Regina’s mother was to blame and not young Snow – led to more death and destruction than any of them thought possible. The Ogre Wars hadn’t harmed them this deeply. It’s all Regina’s fault.

Her thoughts stop in a sudden beat as Emma gasps, dropping the reins of her horse. Her hands feel hot to the touch, almost like they’re burned. Flexing her fingers does little to ease the pain and she ignores the way her hands start to shake.

She must have been subconsciously wringing the reins too hard to cause such a sensation.

Will rushes to grab the fallen reins. “Princess?” he pushes. “Are you okay?”

She clears her throat and clenches one hand in a fist while the other takes back the leather straps.

Is she okay? Absolutely not. The weight of her mission is starting to bear down on her shoulders. Little John’s disappearance has thrown her off and she already feels herself slipping away from reality. But she won’t tell Will that. Instead, she pivots the conversation and meets his eyes in a firm stare.

“I promise that I will get you all home safe. Got it?”

He hisses in disappointment. “That’s not an answer to my question.”

Emma huffs. “How are you doing?”

“I asked you first.”

“You’re not serious…”

“Deadly,” he deadpans only to wince and Emma’s sure his mind has gone to the same place as hers – Little John.

So she whispers, fiercely and filled with determination, “I promise.”

*

They stop in the middle of the forest in the late afternoon. Tension fills the air with every moment of silence until it becomes suffocating but no one does anything to break it for a long time. Little John’s disappearance weighs heavily on them all but their mission is, as much as Emma hates to say it, more important. If Killian is right and the minerals have been replenished since its last harvest a few hundred years ago, it could save hundreds if not thousands of their people. It could put this senseless war to an end once and for all.

They just needed to survive until then.

Lancelot sets his orders that this will be their camp for the night with two guards on the lookout at all times. The risk of riding in the dark after what happened to Little John has them on edge. They wanted to look their enemy in the eyes as they extinguished the life behind it.

Everyone in their group has killed before. It was a cruel casualty of war. But Emma could never relish in the suffering to come from such a death. Regina’s last minutes play on a constant repeat behind her eyelids and she cannot imagine adding anyone else to that scene.

Hunting occupies half of the group’s late afternoon hours while the other half sets up their tents. It is a tricky endeavor, as Lancelot’s orders are to establish one large makeshift tent for everyone. Safety, he had reassured her earlier.

By the time Will and Dorothy return with a number of small game hanging between each of them, a fire is being stoked in the middle of the tent and sleep schedules have been arranged. Dinner is a quiet affair with a heavy tension hanging over their heads like a storm cloud. An empty space sits between Robin and Will where Little John would have sat.

Their silent meal is broken when Robin clears his throat.

“I would like to still scribe that letter, if it’s alright,” he directs to Emma, his gaze leaving the burning fire only after he has finished speaking.

“Of course,” she answers softly. Swallowing, she looks around the group. “Does anyone else have anything they’d like to write home?” For a moment, she feels as if she’s requesting their departing words to be left for family. For what other reason would they need to write home only days after leaving?

“I reckon I have a few things I need to receive an update on,” Will says. He leans forward on the log beside her and spreads his legs apart so his knee can nudge hers in a gentle show of support. “I have a few bets I need to collect on.”

Dorothy rises to the bait even if her words sound the slightest forced. “I think you mean debts to pay.”

“I beg your pardon,” he huffs. “I am an excellent gambler.”

“Is that why your bets have paid for Ruby’s new wardrobe?” Dorothy smirks and continues, raising her sword in front of her as she examines it in the firelight. “I believe this came from a wager settled last month.”

“Oi! Ruby is a cheat and you know it!”

“I’ll be sure to mention that in my letter to her.”

The group gains volume as their teasing returns slowly. Emma’s eyes dart across the bonfire to Robin and she sends a nod of thanks. Little John’s fate still hangs heavy in the air but for a moment, they have a reprieve.

Before the fire dies down, the group settles near to write their letters.

“Who will you be writing to?” Dorothy asks Emma as she grabs her own parchment.

Lancelot grins and looks up for a moment. “Killian, of course.” Her mouth drops open in surprise at the normally quiet leader speaking up with such a taunting line. Mind focused on her own words, she half listens as Dorothy details what she plans to say to Ruby and how Lancelot is best dictating his letter to Guinevere.

Will smirks as he looks to Emma from the corner of his eye. “I’m writing to my Anastasia,” he says proudly, though his voice is low. Dorothy and Lancelot handed her their letters before taking the first watch and Will doesn’t want to disturb Robin’s heavy concentration. “I’m going to marry her when I get back.”

“You’re engaged?!”

“Oi! Don’t sound so surprised! I’m quite the catch, ya know.” Will’s grin only widens.

“Not surprised, just offended I was not invited to the wedding.”

“Well,” her companion drags out. He scratches behind his ear in a nervous tick, a movement that has her heart yearning for Killian. “We’re not engaged yet. I still have to ask her.” He clears his throat and straightens his back. “But I will, the moment we return. Well, after I ask her father.”

Emma smiles softly as she watches Will’s lovesick expression. “You truly love her,” she says, more to herself than to him. Still, Will gives her a small smile and a nod.

She feels a rush of warmth in her stomach as she listens to Will’s words of love for Anastasia, her mind wandering to Killian once again. She misses him terribly and wishes he could be beside her but she knows the best place for him is back home, preparing for their return.

Well, some of their returns.

When the scratch of Will’s quill comes to an end, Emma chances a glance at Robin before asking quietly. “Little John… did he have anyone back home?”

A sharp inhale. “Little John kept personal things to himself, mostly,” Will says regretfully. His gaze casts a burden across the fire. “I’m not the best person to ask.”

Robin keeps to himself as he starts, scratches out, and then restarts his letter to Roland. Emma wonders how close they were to the missing knight. Did they grow up together? Are their families close? Emma bids goodnight to Will before she stands from her log and walks around the fire to Robin.

“Are you telling him to be asleep by sunset?” she asks with a small lift of her lips.

Robin huffs, glancing up briefly. “If only that were enough to get him to bed on time.”

“You should tell him it is by orders of the princess.” The grin their share is fleeting but it offers a momentary reprieve from the day’s events.

“You may sit if you’d like, Princess Emma.”

Sitting presents a challenge each time she attempts it due to the soreness of her muscles. Horse riding and trekking like they have been is far from her usual activities. She leans awkwardly to the side before nearly tipping over completely as her bottom situates itself on the log. Her eyes gaze into the dwindling flames before her while Robin scrawls his name and folds the letter.

He holds the parchment out to her with a sad smile. “Little John was married once,” he says. Her fingers gingerly take the letter from his and she feels the weight of his words, her shoulders dropping beneath it. “She was a beautiful woman. Long dark hair and a smile that spelled trouble. She bewitched him from the first moment.” Robin laughs. “They had a son as well.”

Her companion’s smile drops and at that, so does Emma’s stomach. For she sees the turn of events before her eyes in the pause Robin takes. She sees the grief coloring his face and the regret that fills his eyes.

“Little John was helping me save my wife Marian when his village was attacked. He returned to an empty home.” Robin turns his gaze towards the fire and she witnesses the way his frame shrinks in on itself. “He lost his family while helping me save mine. Never once did he blame me. By all accounts, he should have. Instead, he stayed at my side and helped me raise Roland after I lost Marian.”

His breath shudders as he shakes his shoulders, a quiet sniffle as tears become harder to keep at bay. “We are the only family he has left, Princess Emma. And I will find him.”

His eyes meet hers in steely determination and Emma nearly promises him the same as she did Will. But the darkness of the night is creeping in on her fear and she worries this will be a promise she cannot keep. So she nods and sits and thinks. For the first time in a long time, she prays to any gods that are listening, to the same gods that saved Killian and brought him to her life.

*

“Three and twenty and not a suitor to show for it,” Emma mimics in a low-pitched voice. She crawls across the bed wearing only Killian’s discarded shirt and plops to a sit beside him.

Killian barely looks up from where he scribbles in his notebook, his back against the headboard and his head tilted low. “Who had said this again?”

“Grumpy.”

She crosses her arms in a huff as Killian doesn’t even attempt to hide his amusement. “Perhaps you do not have any suitors because they do not wish to sit through your terrible impersonations.”

Her next attempt at his own accent makes her tongue feel too big for her mouth and her words to be more garbled than coherent. His laughter has her fighting a smile and she only contains so much self-restraint so instead she leans over and hides her smile with his mouth.

Their lips barely separate when she whispers conspiratorially, “Or perhaps they found out the princess has been kidnapped by a pirate captain who spends his free time ravishing her in his cabin.”

“Arggg,” Killian attempts with a curled lip and narrowed eyes. He lifts his left hand and crooks his finger to look like a hook and Emma giggles wildly.

Being with him makes her feel lighter. He makes her happy.

Emma watches the port every day now that the Jewel and her captain have found a home at these docks. She attends the meetings he has with her parents to give updates on the sea front and they exchange nods as their departing promises. A sturdy rope ladder, a commission by Killian from another port, is frequently pulled from beneath her bed and draped outside her window. Apparently her string of sheets caused him too much worry. She merely rolled her eyes at the admission.

His cabin is warm and welcoming. Blankets litter not only his bed but also the window seat on the back wall facing the ocean. Pillows from their land and far away shores pile on every surface. Some map or another is typically spread across his table while the books on any available flat surface change every few weeks.

The sun streams in as a comforting orange glow each evening and wakes her with the palest yellow light in the early morns. The weight of his arm over her stomach acts as a comforting shield from her fears, both past and present.

White wooden walls of cabin feel more like home than the gray stone of the castle.

Or perhaps it is just simply him.

The reminders of his presence are spread throughout his cabin where they are absent in her lonely bed in the tower. His smell lingers on his pillows and clothes while her room suffocates her in gifted perfumes. The small, lumpy captain’s bed adheres to the curves of her body when she drowns in her large, feathered mattress.

Stresses of their ongoing war melt away when she hides under his bedcovers and has his grin to marvel at. There’s warmth in her chest and a spark at her fingertips when they’re together and she swears sometimes that being with him, loving him, is magic.

They share another kiss, brief but soft and all-consuming, before Killian sighs.

“You’re set to meet with your father at half past,” he says regretfully.

She rolls her eyes with a groan and slides off the bed. “Perhaps I do not actually have to go.”

“Perhaps you should like my head on a stake then?”

The urge to roll her eyes again at his dramatics is strong but she refrains. “My father has no interest in executing his right-hand man.”

“That’s simply because he does not know,” Killian starts. He rises to his knees and inches closer to the side of the bed where she stands. Her shirt half unbuttoned, his fingers finish the job as he presses light kisses trailing from her chest to her stomach. “That my meetings with the princess are of a more personal matter.”

The scruff of his facial hair slides against a particularly ticklish spot on her ribs and she squirms away with a giggle, nearly tripping over her sword and dagger as they clang together in a soft sound.

“I do enjoy these meetings,” she grins wickedly. “I learn so much.”

A shriek leaves her throat as Killian clambers out of bed to grab her but Emma evades his pursuit. She quickly gathers her pile of clothes and weaponry. Another soft ding fills the room.

Laughing, she says, “I really must go.” Sorting her clothes is easy enough, even with the soft dings coming from the pile. She quickly dresses. Hands cover her own as she attaches her sword to her belt, her brow furrowing as sounds continue to emanate from where it’s sheathed.

That’s never happened before.

Lips press against her neck and Emma leans back against Killian, closing her eyes briefly before another sound of metal on metal disrupts the peace of the cabin. Her eyes fly open.

*

Emma awakes with a gasp in the middle of the night as a swordfight takes place around her.

Fire long gone, the moon serves as the only lighting in the clearing. The metal of her knights’ swords glitter dangerously under the stars and Emma only barely catches glimpses of what they are fighting.

Simians, it seems. Simians that can jump and… hover overhead and away from swipes of a sword.

Flying simians.

She scrambles from her place of rest against a log and reaches for the sword at her side. At full height, she holds her weapon in front of her and examines the scene.

The simians are large beasts. Ugly and with teeth sharp enough to kill, their wings flap overhead, dragging dirt and ash from their resting site into their faces. Their claws swish through the air in severe strikes, attempting to harm or disarm, she cannot tell. She assumes both. For the moment, their group seems to be holding their own.

A screech comes from behind her and Emma ducks just in time for a simian to fly towards her head. She pops up in a flash and her sword strikes true at her attacker, a wing sliced clean off. The simian cries in anger as it tries to control its flight before falling to the ground. From there, it makes its way towards her on its paws and bares its teeth threateningly. Her sword arches through the air only for another simian to come from above and reach for her sword with its claws.

“Get out of the way!” Dorothy yells and blocks the flying simian from Emma’s side. The grounded simian sees the moment of opportunity, hunches back on its legs, and pounces right at Emma.

Instinct takes over and before Emma even realizes it, her sword is in front of her and the simian impales itself.

Her eyes widen in horror. Regina’s skin melting off her face haunted Emma’s dream. The way her dark eyes turned completely black as life left them. The gurgling as blood overflowed her insides and leaked from the corners of her lips.

Emma feels like she is back in the tower as the simian garbles over blood, its wailing fading moment by moment. Red stains its teeth and its wing flaps haphazardly behind it before it stills. She stares for a moment at unseeing eyes before the simian’s head drops forward and its wing slackens.

Nausea threatens to take over her senses and guilt churns low in her gut but a humanly grunt from behind her snaps her back into action. She quickly but gently lowers her sword and shakes the simian off of the blade. She doesn’t even wait for the thump of its body hitting the ground before Emma turns to help.

The world stops momentarily as she realizes she may be too late.

The simian Dorothy directed away from her now easily evades the knight’s strong sword strokes, flying above her before making quick strikes at her head and back. Dorothy yells, one hand reaching for her head as a simian darts back with a wad of her hair in its mouth, skin from her scalp hanging from one end. She isn’t fast enough to defend herself as the simian barely takes a moment before darting back down again, claws poised and sinking quickly into her back, knocking her forward in the same breath its mouth comes down on her neck.

Lancelot struggles against two simians, his armor dented and breaking off of his body with each attack. His sword makes a wide arch in the air, too wide to correct before the simians come down on him, biting each of his arms as their claws dig into his thighs. He throws his head back as he yells, knees buckling under the pain.

Robin clutches his side, blood seeping into his shirt as he swings his sword with his non-dominant hand. It’s awkward and lacking strength and the simian he’s been fighting takes the chance to strike again.

She sees it the moment before she can move and her stomach turns when she realizes she’s not fast enough. Her throat catches in her throat as the simian’s jaw bears down on his shoulder and Robin cries out in agony.

“Get her out of here!” Lancelot manages through gritted teeth.

The world moves in slow motion as her head turns towards him before she feels her arm jerked in a different direction. A loud rush pulses through her ears and black dots her vision. She immediately resists the force on her body and pulls her arm back towards her.

“Move, damn it!” It takes a moment but the pained voice yelling at her voice belongs to Will. She stares at the blood dripping down his temple as he pulls her shocked body away from the scene as quickly and discretely as possible.

A single simian attempts to follow but is thwarted by Will’s swordsmanship. He moves like around the woods like he walks on air, the ease in which he maneuvers reminds of her Killian’s lithe form. The simian dodges strikes and Emma watches helplessly, her sword barely held by her fingertips as she presses her back against a nearby tree. She wishes the simian would be like the one she defeated at camp. She wishes that it would become too confident and turn into a target easy to disarm. If Killian were here, he wouldn’t need her wishing.

Will’s feet dance across the leaves of the forest floor as he eyes the simian. One moment, two moments, then he makes a decisive slice. Will makes quick work of one of its wings before impaling it, exactly as she’d done at camp.

He stares at the simian for a brief moment, eyebrows furrowed in thought, before he turns towards Emma and grabs her bicep to pull her along. “Let’s go.”

“But,” she starts, head turning back towards camp where more simians fly under the moonlight. It’s hard to see anything else in the darkness. “But what about them? We can’t just leave them.”

“You are the priority, Princess,” Will says, high on alert. “You were their priority. Getting you away, safely, will mean they’ve done their job well.”

“I won’t let them die for me,” she protests even as her feet follow his.

Will jerks them to a stop, his eyes red and narrowed in anger. “And what good would their death do if you get yourself killed as well?”

“They might not be dead.”

“We all will be if you return.” Grief blankets her body in a cold embrace and her mouth drops open though no words come out. Will sighs, eyes looking around for danger, before stepping closer. “Don’t let them die in vain. Let’s go.”

Emma follows at his side numbly and, she realizes with a shiver, death follows her.

[curioushabitforarivergod]

finally finished this its been sitting in my wip folder for months (maybe even a year, idk ive transferred it from like 3 different softwares over the time ive been writing it)

Janto with side Ianto & Gwen friendship. Its obvs a coe fix-it. Rated M. 5865 words.

It haunts him; he knew it would. Ianto, slipping safely away into cool darkness, like an empty pool on a sweltering day — before being ripped cruelly away, and being thrust in a world where nothing makes sense anymore. It makes him stagger and it makes him ravenous, and Jack, who’s undoubtedly done this hundreds of times, must feel so much pain. Ianto wants to cry, or scream, or just curl up in a tiny ball and make the world go away, but he thinks, Jack, and he knows he must continue. Or; Ianto wakes after succumbing to the gas, only to find he's stuck in a permanent state of living

Tagging @flore-elle and @velvetoceanparadise because you two expressed interest when I originally mentioned it :))

[hammieslice]

20 Questions For Fanfic Writers!

I got tagged in this by the lovely @onewhoturns, and I'll tag some others at the end!

1: How many works do you have on Ao3?

I only have 8 actually published there, but for reference, I went into my WIP folder and found over 100 more... So I do write things! I'm just really really bad at actually publishing them.

2: What's your total Ao3 word count?

Assuming I've done my math right, my current total word count sits at 262,909. Most of that is probably the longfics I've done with Turner, but there are almost certainly some hidden gems in there as well.

3: What fandoms do you write for?

Well, I haven't actually written and published something for a specific fandom for a while now, but my more common interests these days are Genshin Impact, Fire Emblem, Metal Gear Solid, Ace Attorney, Shadow & Bone (Netflix TV show specifically) and a few sporadic others! But my past works were for Oxenfree, Destiny, Ava's Demon, Homestuck, Overwatch, Critical Role, The Magnus Archives and Half Life.

4: Top five fics by kudos?

That would beeee So It Goes, Blue Hair, Red Jacket, A Different Angle, One Foot, and finally Holy Spirits!

5: Do you respond to comments? Why/Why not?

As much as I love getting comments on fics, I don't often respond to them. I don't really have enough published to get engagement super often, and even then, I'm just not the kind of person to reach out at random simply because I've heard too many Internet Horror Stories(tm). But, maybe if I do publish more in the future, I'll make a habit of answering then!

6: What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I... Don't really know? Most of my fics are either one-shots or unfinished multi-chapter works. There's probably something really angsty in my WIPs, but since it's never seen the light of day, we'll never really knows.

7: What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Hmm. Hm hm hm. That would probably be a toss up between A Different Angle, which is just meant to be a nice, feel-good oneshot, or Pyrite-50: Quiet Moments, which is a kind of character study of one of my Destiny PC's.

8: Do you get hate on fics?

Since I only have 8 published, and I'm not like a super-duper popular author, I don't really think I get hate. All of the comments I've seen have been really sweet and lovely, which I'm thankful for.

9: Do you write smut?

I've been known to partake... On occasion....... <- Currently hiding most of it away in that damned WIP folder

10: Do you write crossovers?

Aside from the every-so-often "AU fic inspired by another piece of media", no, not really. But maybe that will change sometime! I wouldn't be truly opposed.

11: Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I'm aware!

12: Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. My reach, like I said, is pretty minimal. But if anybody were to ask, I'd say go for it, as long as I got credit as the author.

13: Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Most of my published fics are co-written! My co-author was actually the one who tagged me in this, Turner. You can go check out all our Oxenfree stuff on Ao3 right now.

14: What's your all-time favorite ship?

Oooooh, this one is hard. The one I've undoubtedly written the most for is jonalex, but I'm a huge multishipper, so I've never really preferred one pairing over another before. It's always so dependent on my mood! Can I just say all of them?

15: What's the WIP you hope to finish but doubt you ever will?

The forgotten Kaz Brekker/Darkling smut. It sits in its little google document, taunting me. I know that you're there. I KNOW.

16: What are your writing strengths?

I'd like to think I'm good at metaphors? Generally, getting into a character's psyche is what I strive for, and when I get it right it feels like a real achievement. I've also been told that I'm very good at making dialogue that feels real, or that flows in a way that makes sense, which is something else I'm really proud of.

17: What are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing things. Fight scenes (of the physical variety). The two big F's.

18: Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Seeing as I am a person who only knows one language (and guess which one that is), I don't often write in other languages for my fics, because I'm a liiiiittle too scared of fucking up. On the rare chances I have, I usually use someone I know as a translator, but that limits me on how many languages I can conceivably use. As far as foreign languages in other fics go, I'm all for it!

19: First fandom you wrote for?

It's either Harry Potter, and that fic has now been orphaned to the wind, or maybe Homestuck?

20: Favorite fic you've ever written?

Of my published fics, it has to be So It Goes. That one has a special place in my heart for a multitude of reasons, and not just because Turner and I got to write it together. Of my WIPs, there's an unnamed freemance fic that I've been dying to finish that I just recently found again, and it made me fall in love with my writing for a second time; in a strange way.

Tagging!!

@artemis-crimson @reddgiant @starchemist @starlit-bawka @cranehusbands @duvirii and basically whoever else wants to do it.

[cwispyshwimp]

I read the fic all the way thruI just wanted more content 🥺 I kinda just assumed its been abandoned so I wondered if you could post any other scraps like bonus art or plans u had for the next chapters or something! good to see u back!

Ah, now this I can do!!

When it comes to art, I do have a WIP or two sitting somewhere deep in my folders. I haven't touched them in a long time and I hadn't made immediate plans to work on them, but I can share the sketches if you'd like :')

When it comes to future chapters, I have bits and snippets of LOTS of chapters sitting in my outline document; the whole fic was basically plotted out from the start, but I keep adding chapters in between other chapters because I'm insane HHAHA I'm still kinda figuring out if I'm up for the challenge of writing out the rest, but I might share those snippets and get some opinions/feedback if there's a lot of interest for stuff like that?

But for you, anon, I am happy to share the general outline I've been sitting on for the 2nd half of MSV. Basically, I've finished maybe 2 arcs out of 5. Here's some thoughts for the other 3; spoilers past the break below!

Arc 3 - Xingqiu/Chongyun's Relationship: Xingqiu and Chongyun's relationship doesn't go as simply as "let's just promise to be brave together"; they have to actually confront their individual issues (Chongyun's emotions and Xingqiu's vulnerability,) and it doesn't go smoothly. [At least 3 chapters are in this arc -- the trek back to Liyue Harbor, sharing nightmares in the dark, and overcompensating for their individual flaws (this last one might be 2-3 chapters actually....)]

Arc 4 - Xingqiu/Chongyun's Introspection: The two end up taking a break from their relationship to learn more about themselves, with some help from others. [I have 2 long chapters plotted here and 1 "conclusion" chapter: Chongyun meets Albedo, Xingqiu meets Qiqi, and the bittersweet reunion chapter.]

Act 5 - Xingqiu/Chongyun's Reunion: Xingqiu invites Chongyun to Inazuma for the delivery of his finished manuscript... except Xingqiu isn't satisfied with the ending. [Number of chapters is fuzzier here, but right now I have maybe 3-4: a bonding montage in Inazuma, another opportunity to gain wisdom from new friends, and a final conclusion chapter that puts everything they learned about themselves and relationships together.] Thank you again for the ask, anon!! I hope this is some of the content you were looking for, and thanks for the welcome back too!! :'''') <3

[snuggles-and-struggles]

"Index" of my spicyhoney ideas and AUs, in no particular order

16-20/???

✮ Band

The first chapter has been sitting in my wip folder for years lmao. Basically, after surfacing, Edge unexpectedly winds up the singer/rhythm guitarist for an underground (lol) rock band. No one knows and he tries to keep it that way, until one of his friend group unknowingly gets recommended to see a show and invites a bunch of their mutual friends. Edge is also invited of course and is mortified, but ultimately decides to go on anyway.

Stretch in particular is stunned, even though they'd never really gotten along he is very much attracted to Edge and seeing that show certainly didn't help.

Probably the biggest reason I never finished it is because I couldn't ever really think of much of a cohesive story beyond Stretch and Edge bonding over music and falling for each other. Which is like. Fine but also kind of boring lol

-

✮ Code Blue

Another very old one that I think I've already posted a more full summary of here elsewhere. So I'll keep it brief. Edge was a lab experiment found in the secret labs of his underground after all the various undergrounds surface. He has a "vampire mutation" on top of just not really knowing how to be a monster since he grew up entirely isolated in an abandoned cage basically.

Blue is a nurse with a rehabilitation hospital that US Toriel runs, and asks specifically for his help rehabilitating Edge before he’s declared too dangerous and put down like an animal.

Of course it works and has a happy ending where Stretch helps him acclimate once he’s made enough progress to be released under Blue's supervision. Of course they fall in love, and it's complicated at times, but sooo worth it.

-

✮ VF

Again, another older one. Shortly after its conception, I of course thought up a spicyhoney variant.

At a point earlier in VF's timeline, before the others know the truth, an unexpected "glitch" throws the UT and US brothers in VF. Stretch and Edge get along horribly at first, yet that doesn't stop Stretch from jumping headfirst into one of Edge's "episodes" to try and help him.

Aside from Flowey, Stretch becomes the first person to know the truth about Edge and resolves to help him gain some measure of control.

Takes place in a Variable Ending setting where eventually US, UT, and VF wind up sharing a surface and Edge and Stretch get married and Stretch works from home while Edge goes off Voiding it up in the multiverse helping people, and it's mostly just domestic fluff aside from the occasional insane cryptid/body horror/existential drama bouts <3

-

✮ "Bad Brother" Swap

I might have the note for this one somewhere but now that the notes app search doesn't work it might take a while to find. But! Basically, US is a bad brother au.

UT, SF, and UF have already met, and manage to connect to a new universe. I don't actually remember how they get from point a to point b but they find out quickly about the way the Sans from US treats his brother. Shade, this specific UF Papyrus, is the one who actually retrieves the battered US Papyrus while some of the others go after the Sans in retaliation.

Afterwards, Shade basically decides this pathetic little thing is his and tries his best to help Honey, the US Papyrus, heal and recover.

Their characterizations differ a bit from my usual Edge and Stretch, hence the different nicknames. Shade is very...cold. He seems almost mechanical. Efficient and barely emotes, but he’s also very quiet and blunt generally. Aside from what he has to do as captain of the guard, he’s actually a deceitfully gentle giant (he’s also like a ft taller than Edge. Very Big).

Honey on the other hand is...quiet. Anxious and a bit skittish. More than anything his self image is what took a beating, feeling useless, worthless, and utterly incapable. He’s suspicious of Shade's motives initially, but too scared to really stop him. Luckily, it gets sorted out pretty soon in when he finally manages to ask and Shade bluntly tells him that he just sort of. Claimed him as his problem? He’s so pathetic and weak but he’s also kind and smells nice. So yeah. Also weirds him out seeing any version of himself so helpless so he wants to help him regain a stronger sense of self again.

Of course they fall in love super fast after that point, and eventually surface together and it's very nice and good 👍

-

✮ Reincarnation

This one is a looser sort of idea. It's one I've tossed around weakly a few times, rotated different scenarios, ones where Edge always remembers but Stretch doesn't, ones where that's vice versa, ones where they both know, ones where they used to be celestial gods who gave that up to be mortals who keep getting reincarnated and keep finding each other in ever life.

The most recent one was VF specifically, as Void's essentially immortal, so in that idea, Stretch keeps getting reincarnated across the MV and Void seeks him out every time he can. Sometimes Stretch remembers, other times he doesn't. And since he’s born into new AUs, it can vary like crazy what kind of world he’s in or even what kind of monster he is (though he’s always a Papyrus).

[atlantis54]

2 3 19 and 21 for the writers asks!

2. well, at first, but after a while i think i'd just give up lmao. that plus i tend to be pretty disorganized so unless im keeping it in a folder or smthn that wip is going straight to the shadow realm /j

3. hmm... i guess it'd have to be having a brainrot about my wip ideas over the course of at least a few days and then losing all motivation when i actually sit down to try and make it real. it happens a lot-

21. probably not. ive been into writing since i was little, and its a hobby thats stuck to me for years, so having to quit something i enjoy doing so much sounds like a nightmare... that being said, im always welcome to take breaks from writing. a hiatus is fine but flat out quitting is a no

and finally, ask 19, which is really, really long, so ill just put it under a read more for the sake of everyone lmao

19. i started when i was really little. what age? cant remember. i had a very early love of reading and writing, so i decided to start writing stories! i originally started on paper, writing stories about whatever scenario came to mind. it didnt matter if i finished them or not, i still enjoyed it, yknow? however, the thing i loved most was making comics which combined my love of art and writing.

after a long while, i stopped with the random scenarios and started focusing more on developing coherent stories that were tied together. surprisingly, i didnt start writing online until i was around 8 or 9. it started in powerpoints of all things where i rambled about the ideas i had for my OCs and (again) random scenarios, as well as getting my friends to do roleplays. i still miss the pokemon rp me and my friends made in 3rd-4th grade ;w; good times

eventually, i moved on to the much more sensible word documents (this was when i was 9, 10 or 11 i think) where i began the creation of my Kirby fanon universe. the fanon lore that ive made for Kirby is probably the most headcanons ive ever had for anything (as Kirby was my first fandom), so this is like the beginning of a legend to me.

finally, i signed up for Fandom Wikia with the goal to share my stories with the internet. i began my migration all over the place, going from Fandom Wikia to Wattpad, then to Tumblr, then to Comic Studio, then BACK to Tumblr... its been a crazy ride. but no matter where i went i made sure to share my stories.

now, im trying to improve on my writing skills. upon rereading my older fanfics, i realized they were... well, not the best. currently, my writing to-do list is to finish the Daily Life section of my Danganronpa multiverse crossover fic, begin writing an idea for an owlbit fic, and to begin the rewrites of 2 of my older works. its a little daunting of a task, but im sure that i can do it! besides, my fanfics arent particularly popular (i only have 27 followers on wattpad rip) so i dont have to worry too much about people begging me to get on w/ the chapters heh

anyway, thank you for the ask! have a duck as an apology gift for having to read that big wall of text :D

he got the. hat

[moondancediner]

Sunflower

Chapter 1: Coming Home

updated: 3/19/2024

Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of death, brain tumor trigger warning

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x OC Elizabeth Swan

Word Count: 6,522

A/N: Does anyone even care about Twilight anymore?

Anyway, I kinda snapped on this, so let me know if you even like it cause I will write more. I don't have this series finished or even outlined but Emmett Cullen has and always will be my number one. Also, this fic has been sitting in my WIP folder for so long I decided to let her see the sun for once.

Also, Rosalie Hale does not exist in this series and nothing has changed because of it.

Life’s trials will test you, and shape you, but don’t let them change who you are - Aaron Lauritsen

—-

Pain.

It’s such a small word that encompasses so many emotions, thoughts, and feelings. 

How can a word bring back memories?

How can a word make you feel forgotten emotions?

It’s all-consuming… pain is. Parent’s try to avoid it, try to shelter their children from it for as long as they can. Well, the good one’s do, anyway. 

But that’s the thing about pain, isn’t it? It’s unavoidable. 

A bleeding knee after a fall to the concrete sidewalk, the loss of a childhood pet, a debilitating headache that seems to last forever, that first heartbreak.

Your sister getting married and not telling you. 

That last one was more disappointment, but Elizabeth supposed she couldn’t expect much from someone she barely saw anymore.

Bella was a model big sister her whole life. She mothered when it was needed, she was a friend, a tutor, a free ride, and a confidant. Bella always did what was best for others, while Ellie was given the luxury of getting to choose herself, and she usually did. She didn’t see a reason not to.

The ivory invitation came in the mail on an average Tuesday, something so extravagant looking on such a bland day. Ellie opened it up, trying to find a semblance of happiness or joy for her eighteen year old sister, but all she could catch onto was disappointment. And a touch of anger.

She turned, walking back into her Florida home, and dropped the invitation onto the kitchen table before taking her seat and finishing her breakfast. Phil picked it up, still finishing his morning coffee, and called out to her mom, the sound was muddled and fuzzy to her ears. A sign of another headache coming on. 

Brain tumors were no joke. 

Elizabeth supposed she was being petty about her morals. Not telling your sister about your impending death was way worse than not telling your sister about your engagement, or including her in any of the wedding planning. But Ellie knew she would be ruining her sister’s life. Her overprotective older sister would drop everything to come save her, but there was nothing left to save, and she had come to terms with that. And besides, she guessed the moment Edward walked through those doors a few months prior that an engagement was on the horizon. 

Renee fought hard for a while, and Ellie let her, she supposed she didn’t want to accept the facts at the time, but after a dozen doctors and countless road trips and phone calls, Elizabeth and her family were forced to accept her fate, death was imminent. Her life expectancy was cut down from years to months. 

Death came around eventually, for everyone, it would wrap its boney fingers around everyone’s string of fate and pull you to the depths. Some just sooner than others. And there was nothing anybody could do about it. Ellie had accepted that, she found a strange calm in death, a peacefulness that she had never experienced before. Everyone thought she was nuts. 

Maybe it was the tumor talking. 

Her family had not accepted her choices at all, and she was still a minor so the constant doctor’s trips lasted for a long time until she finally put her stubborn foot down, demanding that she did not want any more extreme measures taken. Her mom fought her, hard, but Ellie fought back, insisting that it was her life and she was allowed to live it how she wanted. Renee’s “hippie” way of mothering bit her on the ass on that one. 

“Ell?” Elizabeth’s eyes focused on her mothers worried face. “You okay?” Ellie could tell she was concerned, but her mom tried to hide it as best she could. Ellie took a deep breath, smiling at her mom to let her know she was okay.

“How long was I out?” She asked, the room coming back into blurring clarity.

“Only a few seconds, but it seems to be happening more often.” Renee rubbed her daughter’s cheeks with her thumbs, soothing any residual worry away. 

Ellie started getting absent seizures about a month ago, - a side effect of the mass currently renting out space in her cranium - she would zone out but not remember anything while they were happening. 

“You need to tell her,” Renee chastised, standing up from her crouching position in front of her daughter, making her way into the kitchen for another fill up. 

“I’ll do it after the wedding.” Ellie responded. At first the argument was after she got an official diagnosis, then after they tried some radiation, then after the side effects wore off, then after Bella’s graduation. The two of them have had this conversation multiple times, Ellie didn’t want to ruin her sister’s life, her sister who had just gotten her shit together, found someone she loves, and is now getting married. She would move back to Florida to take care of her helpless little sister, and throw her life away. Ellie couldn’t live with that on her conscience, not along with all the other baggage she was carrying. 

“She’s leaving for her honeymoon right after, you won’t get a chance.” Renee was now angrily washing dishes, throwing things in the sudsy water, sending bubbles up in the air around her.

“I’m not going to ruin her wedding, mom.” Elizabeth answered, annoyed now. 

“Well, I’m buying you a plane ticket to go early so you can spend some time with her, you’re not going to be able to keep it a secret… and your dad is certainly not going to be able to keep it quiet.” 

Poor Charlie. Ellie loved her dad, he really was the best, and she loved going up to spend summers with him, but she had friends and a life down in Arizona - and now Florida -, and when Bella went to live with their dad full time, Ellie chose to stay home, her best friend at the time lived next door and her mom was content on checking in and letting El stay with them while her and Phil traveled around. When they picked a more permanent spot in Florida, Ellie was happy to make the move to the sunshine state.

It took Charlie a bit of time to understand why she didn’t want to move up north, but he came around eventually and they talked on the phone constantly, especially when Bella was going through her depression after Edward left. The bastard.

“Why am I going early!?” She was yelling now, something she never used to do to her mother. The rage was new and appeared at the drop of a hat - literally one time she was set into a rage after dropping a hat. It was tough to cope with and Renee loved to compare it to her postpartum rage she had after she had both Bella and Ellie, which did not help Ellie’s rage at all. It felt like a slap in the face to compare Renee’s giving life to that of the one currently being taken away. 

“So you can spend your birthday with your dad, he’s really excited about it so you can’t cancel.” Renee responded, matter-of-factly. She threw the dish towel down and stormed out of the room, not willing to finish this argument. 

Elizabeth took a few deep breaths, closing her eyes and trying to calm the rage building inside of her. It was even harder to calm herself when she realized that meant her parents had been scheming behind her back. She hated when they made decisions for her without talking to her first. 

“She’s right, you know.” Phil said from over the newspaper in his hands. Ellie combed both hands through her dirty blonde hair, calming her rage. She always found it hard to be mad at Phil, he was just always so nice and calm. 

“I know.” She replied plainly. She knew it was the right thing to do, everyone knew about her tumor except Bella. She asked her own father to keep it a secret and she knew her older sister was going to be mad at everyone else for not telling her instead of being angry at Ellie for making them keep the secret in the first place. 

----

Ellie begrudgingly made her way through the airport, the flight she just got off of was way too long and stuffy - when did they stop running the air before people boarded the flight? - and her mom had tipped off the flight attendants somehow so they checked on her every 15 minutes like clockwork. 

She didn’t have any issues on the flight, her episodes only really occurred when she was tired - which was pretty much all the time now - but she felt strangely refreshed today. Must be something with the new meds. 

She made her way outside, looking for the familiar red truck in the waiting docks, but when no such truck was spotted, Ellie got a little worried - her sister was never late. She dug her phone out and began dialing her sister’s phone number when a horn honked, startling her slightly and drawing her attention to a few feet in front of where she stood, where a familiar figure was getting out of a black Mercades.

“Bella?” Ellie slowly made her way over to the car, where her sister was opening the trunk for her to put her bag into. When Ellie reached the car she heaved her bag into it and turned to her sister, who looked uncomfortable, but otherwise exactly the same as a year ago. Bella went in for a hug, noticing that her little sister felt skinnier, but didn’t want to comment on the fact for fear of bringing up an unnecessary fight. 

“It’s weird, right?” Bella asked, still hugging her sister. 

“So weird,” Ellie laughed. The younger of the two pulled back first, avoiding eye contact and making her way over to the passenger’s side door. The door was heavy, and Ellie really had to put her body weight behind it to get it open. 

“It was an engagement gift from Edward.” Bella stated, putting the car in drive and taking off towards home. 

“A brand new car as an engagement gift?” Ellie questioned, looking around at the expensive interior. There was no way this car would cost less than $100k. “Is Emmett still single?” They laughed at her joke - though, both knew it was a more serious question than the younger one wanted to admit -, and El noted that even in a car that was meant to go fast, her sister still obeyed all traffic laws to a T. Elizabeth was sure that if she got behind the wheel she would waste no time getting this thing to 100mph. 

“So… got anything planned for the week before the big day?” She asked after a few minutes of silence. She was used to her sister’s quiet demeanor, but her nerves were on edge. 

“Um, no, not really, Edward’s going camping with his brothers but I don’t have anything planned.” She admitted. Ellie really shouldn’t have been shocked by this, her sister was a homebody by nature, but last time she was here Bella had friends and seemed to be branching out a bit, even if it was just Alice. 

“No Bachelorette party?” Ellie asked, now fidgeting with the buttons on the center console. 

“God no,” her older sister laughed, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “Alice tried to plan something but I told her no.”

Ellie laughed at that, “How in the world did you tell Alice no? That’s like asking a shark to walk on land.” They both laughed at the statement, Alice was a force to be reckoned with, which is one of the reasons Ellie liked her so much. She had always liked the Cullens, she met Edward after Bella’s accident last year, and decided pretty quickly that she was not the biggest fan of her big sister’s boyfriend. Edward was always nice and polite, sure, but he seemed to always be hurting her more than helping her - at least from the stories that Ellie was being told. 

She met the rest of the Cullen clan soon after, on her next visit to see her dad and sister, and was quickly - forcibly - integrated into their family. Alice was chatty and sweet and always giving her clothes she insisted she purchased in the wrong size or color, though Ellie picked up pretty quickly that Alice simply did not make mistakes. Her partner, Jasper, was quiet and a little off putting, but never gave her any reason not to like him. Esme and Carlisle were as nice as it got, always going above and beyond to make sure Ellie was comfortable in their home and always making sure she had something to eat or drink at all times. Ellie found their home to be more like a museum than a home, so immaculately designed and polished, it looked more like a model home, like those HGTV homes of the year that you could enter a contest and win. It never seemed to her like four teenagers lived there. 

She met Emmett last. He was just returning from a camping trip with Jasper, who she had met a couple days before when he and Alice came over to talk with Bella about something she couldn’t remember now. She heard Emmett before she saw him, his booming laugh surrounded and washed over her like a warm breeze. He walked through the front door and looked at her immediately. Ellie didn’t think she would ever forget how golden his eyes were that day.

“I had to compromise, she’s planning the entire wedding.” Bella explained, pulling her out of the memory.

“That makes sense.” Ellie responded, nodding her head. 

“We do have to go there before we go home, Alice needs to fit you for your dress.” Bella said, keeping her eyes on the road ahead of her, hands always at a solid 10 and 2. The idea of going to the Cullen’s house before going to Charlie’s made her a little uneasy, she thought about how she was going to tell her sister about her tumor and wanted to have her dad there as backup - but she also wanted to do it as soon as possible, because the guilt was eating at her a lot quicker than she thought it would be. 

“Oh, fun.” Ellie hoped Bella couldn’t sense the anxiety and hesitation in her voice.

----

When they finally arrived at the Cullen’s McMansion in the woods, Ellie was feeling the tolls of travel. Her vision was blurring a little around the edges and she was tired from being up so early that morning to catch her flight. She did a mental check when she saw the time, she would have to take her meds soon, which was going to raise questions from her sister. It wasn’t even like it was one pill either, it was a good handful. 

They walked up to the front door together, where Alice was already waiting for them, with a welcoming smile. Ellie smiled back, forgetting about her fatigue and becoming excited to see the Cullen’s again. 

“Ellie! It’s so good to see you again.” Alice said, pulling the younger Swan in for a brief hug, Ellie flinched for a second, always forgetting how cold and solid she was. “I can’t wait for you to see your dress!” Alice immediately started pulling Ellie into the house, never letting go of her one hand, not even giving her a chance to get reacquainted with her surroundings, making her a little dizzy, but Alice kept on moving, probably not even noticing her slight wobble. 

They made it to one of the rooms adjacent to the kitchen where Alice had a pedestal, a coat rack, and mirrors for her fitting. Alice quickly moved to the rack, immediately pulling out a dress and putting it in Ellie’s hands. “Bathroom’s right through that door, go get changed, oh and make sure you take everything off.” Alice winked a little, her golden eyes sparkling a little more than usual. 

“Everything?” Ellie questioned, wondering why on earth she would need to take her underwear off for a dress fitting. 

“Yes, everything.” Alice rolled her eyes a little, shoving her towards the bathroom door. Elizabeth rolled her eyes right back, but walked into the bathroom anyway. 

When she got into the spacious room, she took a second to gather herself, taking a deep breath, steadying her hands on the counter, and looking at herself in the ornate mirror. Her dark blue eyes were sunken, and dull, her skin was paler than it had ever been, even though she spent most of her spare time laying in the sun trying to regain some color and energy. Her hair lacked the luster it normally had, now just laid like a flat mop on her head no matter how much extra product she put in it. The small amount of chemo and radiation that she tried to get through thinned out her body and her hair and Ellie was still attempting to regrow it, though her attempts seemed futile. She looked in the mirror and didn’t see herself anymore. She saw a shell of a human, a leech who latched onto anything alive and took dragging pulls just to live another day. 

She stripped down, noting how her rib cage was starting to show through her skin. Her appetite had taken a hard turn once she started taking all the medications, and the amount of weight she lost from the chemo would probably never get a chance to come back. She took off her bra and then grabbed the dress off the toilet, turning away from the mirror so she didn’t have to look at her body anymore. Once she had the dress on she turned again, admiring the low cut, form fitted lilac dress. The back was completely open, held together only by a set of strings that would need to be laced through like a corset. She quickly realized why underwear would be a problem in this, its thin silk fabric would not allow any secrets to be hidden. Her heart raced slightly at the thought of everyone at Bella’s wedding being able to see how skinny she was getting.

Ellie thought briefly about ditching the whole thing. Dropping the dress, getting dressed, and just walking out the door. Bella was with Edward somewhere - she had ditched her as soon as they walked through the door - so it would take her a while to even realize she was gone. And maybe she could stop Alice from saying anything, she could just lie and say she needed some fresh air. The way to Charlie’s is just a straight walk down one road, albeit a long road and someone would probably find her before she reached her final destination but she could come up with a different excuse by the time someone reached her. 

“Everything okay?” Alice knocked on the door, startling Ellie. “Don’t worry about tying up the back, I’ll do it when you get out here.” Well, there goes her plan. Ellie took a half a second to compose herself and dropped her thong before she could second guess herself, then gathered up the bottom of the dress and made her way out of the lavish bathroom. She stepped out of the room, and went straight to the podium.

Alice started working immediately and Ellie tried not to look at herself in the mirrors in front of her. Alice was talking a million miles a minute, but Ellie wasn’t listening. She felt a pressure behind her eyes and closed them for a second to try and push the pain down, and the sinking feeling that what she knew was about to happen, would happen. 

Elizabeth heard someone call her name before she passed out. 

-----

Ellie knew exactly where she was when she woke up. She could hear the beeping of the monitors before she opened her eyes and the unmistakable smell of the hospital immediately dried out her throat. She opened her eyes, looking around to hopefully see her dad, but all she saw was Bella standing at her doorway, talking to someone she couldn’t see. 

“Bells?” Her voice was coarse and she could feel the oxygen tubes in her nostrils, drying out her throat and nose more. She ripped them out, attempting to sit up, but Bella reached her before she could, placing the oxygen back in her nose and pushing her back down to the bed. “Where’s dad?” 

“He’s on his way.” She paused for a second, taking a seat at the chair next to her bed. There was a pregnant pause and Ellie tried to look anywhere but at her sister. “How long have you known?” Bella whispered, looking at her hands in her lap, fidgeting them around each other. 

“Since May.” Elizabeth replied, voice still hoarse and scratchy.  

“That’s why you didn’t come to visit this summer.” It wasn’t a question, Ellie knew Bella was just putting the pieces together now. 

“I didn’t know how to tell you.” She was crying now, the guilt and pressure finally releasing and removing a small amount of the weight on her shoulders. Bella sniffled, and took a breath, trying to compose herself. The last thing she wanted to do was yell at her little sister for something so out of anyone’s control, but she felt so confused and hurt that her sister and mom would keep such a secret from her. 

“Does dad know?” Ellie just nodded in response, not trusting her voice enough to actually answer. “Does everyone but me know?” Bella was getting a little louder now, the tone in her voice shifted quickly and Ellie flinched unwillingly. 

“Bella-“

“Hey,” Charlie walked in then, interrupting Ellie’s train of thought that honestly wasn’t going anywhere to begin with. “Sorry, I got here as fast as I could.” 

“It’s okay dad, can you just get me out of here?” Ellie asked, her saving grace finally arriving to set her free from this hell hole. 

“Get out of here?” Bella asked, looking to Charlie for some confirmation that her little sister hadn’t just completely lost her marbles.

“Yeah, Bella I’m not staying here I’m going home.” Ellie explained, getting agitated. 

“You can’t go home you need help, Carlisle said if you go home you’ll die-”

“I’m not staying here!” Ellie exploded, cutting off her older sister. She didn’t look to see the hurt that she knew was in Bella’s or her dad’s eyes, that was too much to bear. It was then that Carlisle walked in, clipboard in hand, looking as handsome as ever.

“I’m sure you already know what I’m about to tell you.” He said, looking right at her.

“Grade four gliosarcoma, extremely rare and even more rare in people my age, inoperable, a 12 to 18 month life expectancy depending on how fast the tumor grows. If it grows outside of my skull - which with how fast my symptoms are progressing it most likely will - then I’ve got maybe four months. Even with surgery. Did I get all that right Doc?” Ellie looked at Carlisle while she talked but she was really talking to Bella. And maybe even her dad, he had never heard all this from her before - only from Renee and she’s a bit scatterbrained on a good day. “If you want I can have my mom call my doctor in Arizona and have them send over all my files and scans, but it’s probably pointless. I know I’m getting worse, sometimes I can’t hold a fork anymore.” Ellie hated how blunt she was being but she couldn’t find it in her to actually stop. She had heard the same shit over and over again from every doctor who claimed they knew what they were doing and that they were the best there’s ever been but none of them are and none of them will be. 

“Dad, you can’t let her do this.” Bella pleaded, looking for any way to save her baby sister from making a mistake. 

“She’s made up her mind, Bells, we’ve been through this with her already.” The chief sighed, hands on his hips, jaw tense and set.

“This is insane, Carlisle, tell me there’s something you can do.” Bella looked to the doctor now, but Ellie swore she saw a little more in her eyes, like she was really asking for something else. Carlisle only shook his head, solidifying what Ellie already knew. 

“Charlie, if you’re okay with it I’ll go get her discharge papers.” Dr. Cullen walked out after the chief gave him a quick, curt nod, and Bella took off quickly after him, probably to berate him into doing what she asked. Charlie paused for a second, walking over to his daughter and giving her a kiss on the head before following the doctor out of the room and down the hall. 

Ellie was only alone for a few seconds when a broad shouldered giant walked into her room. 

“Hey stranger,” Emmett greeted, walking in and going straight for the chair Bella had just occupied. 

“Hey Em,” Ellie smiled, suddenly very conscious of the cannula still stuck in her nose and about how terrible her hair must look right now. She pulled the cannula out, tired of how it was drying out her nose and throat. Emmett reached over her, helping her so the tubes wouldn’t get caught in her now short honey hair. 

“You cut your hair.” Emmett commented, and Ellie was just grateful that he wasn’t talking about where they were right now. 

“Yeah, it started thinning out so I decided to go a little shorter.” She had actually cut about half of it off, and since then it had grown out right past her shoulders. Emmett stared at her for a few more seconds before making up his mind and standing up. “Where are you going?” She asked, alerted that he was leaving after just getting here. 

“You don’t wanna be here, and I hate the smell of hospitals so let’s go,” he walked over to her left side, where he gingerly pulled the IV needle out of her arm, barely leaving a drop of blood in its wake. She smiled up at him and took his outstretched hand, where he carefully pulled her out of the hospital bed. “Bella brought your clothes, they’re in the bathroom.” He winked and she scurried off to the door nearest to her - making sure to pinch off the back of her gown - grinning ear to ear and finding all the clothes she was wearing earlier neatly folded on the nurses cart next to the sink. Bra and underwear included. 

Ellie quickly got changed, slipping on her shoes as she stumbled out the door. 

“Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room, she honestly had no idea where she was going but also knew that Emmett would guide her if she went the wrong way. It always shocked her how cold Emmett was, even after encountering Alice earlier that day, it still made her worry about their circulation - she also supposed that the fact that they always had every available window open in their house didn’t help. 

When they arrived outside Ellie immediately spotted Emmett’s jeep, in all its glory and headed straight for it, opening the passenger door that was always unlocked. She climbed in and Emmett shut her door behind her once she was settled before walking over to the driver's side. 

They didn’t talk and Emmett just drove and she just loved him for this. 

Ellie had no idea where he was driving, and she didn’t care. 

Emmett was always her favorite Cullen. They always seemed to have some kind of unspoken bond, always comfortable around each other and he never treated her like Bella’s little sister. Ell loved Alice and Jasper - when he wasn’t being so painfully quiet - and Carlisle and Esme always treated her like a part of the family, but underneath it all she always felt like she was just Bella’s annoying little sister who was tolerated, not wanted. Especially surrounding her relationship with Edward. 

He was always cordial and never rude or disrespectful to her but there was something off about him - really the whole family, she just couldn’t put her finger on it - but around him it was all Bella all the time. 

That’s how Emmett made her feel. Like he cared about her and only her. She thought about moving up to Forks but Emmett had graduated high school and was going off to college so he was only home for the summers, just like her. 

He was adventurous which she craved, and funny in a way that she always had a smile on her face when he was around. He didn’t like going to the beach though, and that always bummed her out. Any time the weather got good he and his brothers would go out camping, a trip she was desperate to join in on one day but was always denied because of the dangers of the Washington forests, something she apparently needed to take a class on. 

But he would always come swing by Charlie’s as soon as he got back and would pick her up to go driving around. 

He provided a comfort, a sense of calm she only ever experienced from her dad. But he was also light and jovial in a child-like way and she loved that he didn’t take life so seriously. 

When the Jeep stopped Ellie looked up and realized they were in a large open field, which might have been pretty if everything wasn’t the same shade of green and the sun was out. 

Emmett put the car in park and looked over to Ellie. 

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked. 

“Are you gonna try and change my mind?” Ellie asked, looking ahead and not at him. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Man, she had a crush on him. 

“I wanted to do so much.” She began, still looking straight ahead out of the windshield. “I wanted to go to other countries and explore more than three states my entire life, and learn about new cultures, get married, have kids… and it all got taken away from me, Em.” Emmett didn’t respond, he just reached over and placed a large hand over her smaller one. “I accepted it though, you know? I guess that’s part of the reason why I didn’t want to tell Bella, because I knew she would try and fix it, instead of just enjoying whatever amount of time together that we have left.” 

“It’s hard.” He finally said after what felt like an hour of silence. 

“I feel so morbid about it.” Ellie laughed a little, “I’ve completely accepted my death, and now I’m asking everyone who loves me to do the same.” She paused again, collecting her thoughts and feelings for a second longer. “I get it, I shouldn’t be asking people to accept my death and move on with their lives… it feels like I’m planning my own suicide and telling everyone about it… but I can’t go through all of that pain for a couple extra months just so everyone can be more comfortable… just because it’s what everyone else does, doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do.”

Emmett didn’t respond for a while, clearly having some kind of internal debate that Ellie was sure she didn’t want to hear. Everyone had to come to terms with her decisions on their own time, but she was not about to compromise her comfort and her life just so everyone around her could be more comfortable. She’s the one dying, nobody gets to make decisions for her anymore.

“What if I could fix it?” He finally said.

“Em-”

“No, really, what if I could fix it?” 

“How?” Ellie asked, feeling a little hurt by the tiny ping of hopefulness she felt in her chest at his confident tone. He hesitated again, and Ellie could tell he wasn’t sure what to say exactly. 

Before he could respond, though, his phone started ringing in his pocket, Ellie couldn’t see who it was but by the look on Emmett’s face it was probably a sibling of his. He removed his cold hand from the top of hers, and Ell felt a strange moment of detachment. 

“Yeah?” His voice was quiet, and irritated and she could tell that he didn’t really want her to hear what was about to be said. “I need to.” was the next thing she heard him say - a strange thing to say if you asked her. “What did Alice say?” Okay, so he wasn’t talking to Alice. Ellie didn’t hear the ending of their conversation because even though they were in such close proximity he talked too low and too quick for her, apparently, slow brain to understand. Without another word Emmett put the Jeep in drive and started driving into the woods, presumably in the direction they came from but Ellie couldn’t remember. 

“Where are we going?” A question Ellie normally wouldn’t ask him, but she was getting a little concerned.

“Have you ever noticed something different about us?” He asked, completely ignoring her question and instead posing his own. 

“Different how?” She asked. She grabbed onto the oh shit handles when Emmett hit a particularly big rock at a not safe speed, and almost had to yell to hear herself talking over the loud engine. 

“Me, my family, have you ever noticed anything about us that feels different?” Ellie thought about it for a minute. Of course she noticed stuff about them. They were cold, and their skin was hard as a rock, and she often thought about how she’s never seen any of them in sunlight, and they either had very strict beauty routines or they all looked exactly the same every time she saw them. Even over the years they never changed, they all looked the same and never seemed to age. And their eyes, such a strange shade of gold that they all seemed to share despite not being related. They were inviting to be around, but something in her always tried to tell her to run, get to safety and away from these strangely beautiful creatures.

But she would never say any of that. None of that was alarming or life changing information. It was just how they were. She had asked Bella about it after the first summer she was there, and her big sister explained all of these questions away, so Ellie never felt the need to bring them up again. 

“You know.” Emmett said, breaking her out of her thought bubble. 

“Why did you leave?” Was the only thing she could think to ask. Her sister’s depression was one of the hardest times in her life - and they never offered an explanation. They were just here one day and gone the next, and after all the drama of Bella traveling to Italy to retrieve her lover, everything just went back to normal - everyone just acted like nothing ever happened. 

“Edward didn’t think it was safe for Bella.” Safe? Why would Bella be unsafe with Edward? None of this was adding up or making sense and her head hurt and all she wanted to do now was take a nap. 

Emmett always drove fast but they arrived at Charlie's house in record time. Bella’s fancy new car wasn’t in the driveway and neither was her dad’s cruiser, which made Ellie believe they weren’t gone as long as she thought. 

They sat in silence for a minute longer, and she tried to gather her thoughts. “What’s going on Em?” She asked quietly, keeping her eyes forward. Everything that just happened confused her more than she wanted to think about right now. What was he talking about? Why would he ask her something to get her hopes up and then completely change the subject? 

“Talk to Bella when she gets home,” He reached his hand over again, finding hers in the small space and she looked over at him, meeting his golden eyes. She trusted him, she never had a reason not to - and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly in love with him. But she knew he didn’t feel the same way, he only viewed her as a friend, because who would go years without saying something to someone you liked? 

“Fine.” She sighed, pulling away from him, opening up the car door and dropping out, but stayed holding onto the door until she gained her own balance. 

She walked inside without a second thought, or a glance behind her. Her emotions were all over the place and she felt like crap. She often forgot she had a brain tumor - as hard as that was - but it reminded her of its presence any time she forgot. She went straight upstairs, and into her room that her 12-year-old self had decorated what felt like forever ago. The walls were a light shade of pink that matched the comforter on her twin bed, which looked like the most inviting surface on the planet right now. She plopped face down into her pillows, noting that her backpack and suitcase had made their way into her room. 

Ell rolled over onto her side so she could breathe, and started thinking about what Emmett said. The whole conversation was weird - and Emmett never made her feel weird or uncomfortable before. They had also never talked about such a morbid topic before. But why would he get her hopes up like that? Ellie knew there was no hope, she had been living the past couple months of her life like there was no hope, because that’s what she had come to accept. And now he was going to act like he could just fix everything? Just like that. 

What made it worse was that Emmett had never lied to her before - not that she knew of anyway - so why would he lie to her about something like this? Why would he say he could fix the unfixable with such certainty and then all in the same breath change the subject to his family and just drop her off at home to figure out her life for herself. It all made no sense and Ellie was almost 99% certain that she was going crazy and this wasn’t her real life at all - maybe she was just in some kind of fever dream coma that the tumor had put her in. 

Dumbass tumor. Ruining everything. 

Hell, maybe if this was a fever dream she could finally just live her life. Disappear to another country and live out the rest of her days exploring places she’s always wanted to see. Live a life she’s always wanted to live. 

But she wasn’t fully convinced she was living a coma dream right now. Not yet anyway. 

And what the hell was Emmett talking about? Did she notice anything different about him and his family? Yeah, of course, where does one even start on that topic? Gold eyes that get lighter and darker, pale white almost identical skin tones, cold lifeless skin. Emmett could drive without even looking at the road, she had seen him do it multiple times and it freaked her the fuck out, but he also seemed like he was so in control nothing could possibly ever happen to him. 

Emmett was also very… careful, especially around her. He took almost a gentle approach if he ever touched her, like he was afraid he could break her. 

Ellie was intuitive, she could pick up on people’s emotions fairly quickly, and thought herself to be somewhat of an emotional chameleon. She could match people’s moods, and often fed off of them, so of course she noticed something off about all the Cullen’s when she met them, but she chalked it up to the fact that they were all adopted, which she figured came with it’s fair share of emotional baggage that could make people seem a bit weird and off-putting. 

Then there was another part of them that seemed… inhuman. The thought made her second guess everything. There was no way they could be anything but human, what the hell else could they possibly be. 

That old story of the wolves and cold ones that she heard as a child came to the forefront of her mind just then. Billy Black would tell scary campfire stories at the beach over the summers about men who could transform into wolves to protect their tribe from the cold ones who threatened their way of life. 

But they were just that. Stories. Childhood fables meant to keep the kids out of the woods. 

Right?

—-

CHAPTER 2->

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These characters, with the exception of Elizabeth Swan, aren’t mine but this fanfiction is.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

A Darcy Day Off

As promised, I present ~6,800 words of a sick, miserable Fitz/willi/am Dar/cy. I’ve been working on this on and off for an embarrassingly long time so I’m glad to finally clear it out of my WIP folder to make room for new things. But honestly, it was a pleasure to write, and I hope some of you take pleasure in reading it as well!

Definitely he first chapter, and honestly the first 2 chapters are mostly exposition, so if you want to skip straight to the sickfic goodness and reduce the word count, head to chapter 3. But I had fun writing (and worked hard on) the banter and conversation in the beginning, so I opted to keep it. 

( @chezsnez @empresskaze @groundcontrol21 you all asked so nicely, so I hope this is what you were looking for! )

1.

“Darcy, dear, what’s keeping you? I thought we were to meet in the library for tea,” Elizabeth called. She found him still in his study, hunched over the desk. She danced to his side, planting a kiss atop his head. He leaned against her briefly in greeting.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I had more business to attend to today than I’d realized. Just finishing up now.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly, then his nose, trying to be rid of a tickle that had been infuriating him all day.

“Always at your work. I wonder our estate isn’t the finest run in Britain. And here I used to think people of high class such as yourself worried for nothing but amusing themselves all day.” She gently rubbed his neck where she knew he always got an ache when he wrote. He kissed her hand fondly.

“You are of such a class, too, now, my love. And how do you know it isn’t the finest? I’d be willing to wager a year’s salary this estate could be measured against parliament’s own estates and be proven worthy, if I have anything to say about it.”

“You pour your very soul into all that goes on here, and it’s one of the many things I adore about you. I am proud every day to be the mistress of such an estate. Only I wish you wouldn’t work so hard and take more time to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

“Are you accusing me of ignoring you, dearest? Only say the word and I would throw all my responsibilities to the winds and devote myself fully to your entertainment.” 

He kept his tone light and playful, teasing her, but looked at her closely even as he did. Had he been neglecting her too much of late? He had had several pressing business matters on his mind these last weeks, and he knew he had been at his desk more than usual. Lizzie had not complained of course, and had been nothing but supportive and helpful, but the last thing he would ever want to do is make her doubt where his priorities lay, namely that she was foremost in his mind and heart, and in all things.

“Not at all, for you well know I’m quite fond of my own company. However, I can't help but worry about you. You put too much responsibility on yourself; you are positively careworn these days. I only wish your more lighthearted side could see the light of day now and again, and not just when we’re alone.”

“I am my truest self when I’m with you.” He kissed her hand again, then rubbed his nose. “I will always struggle being lighthearted while working. The two have never gone hand in hand in my experience; gravity and soberness were expected whilst doing business in my growing years under my father, and others. All the more reason I have need of your influence.” 

She kissed his head again. “Very well, I accept the mantle of helping you find levity in your working hours. If only so that the strain you put on yourself will not affect your health. You put on a casual, careless demeanor in public, but I know better. You bear the weight of the world on those broad shoulders of yours, and that is a burden no man is meant to carry, even by his own choice. So come now, and join your wife for tea. The letters can wait another hour or so, surely.

“Indeed they can.” He stood and stretched stiffly. The chill winter wind howled outside and the sound made him shiver, glad for the roaring heat from the fire nearby, and in every room in the house as he moved to escort his wife to the library. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The couple spent a pleasant hour or two in their favorite room in the house, chatting warmly at times, and sitting in comfortable silence at others. The relentless wind made Darcy feel sleepy and lazy, and he wanted nothing more than to take his wife’s advice and take the rest of the day to relax. He would have been content to remain here for the rest of the evening with his favorite person and simply read and chat and perhaps nap. But he had two more letters that needed to make the post tomorrow, and if he did not finish them now, he never would. He stood quietly and brushed his lips across his wife’s cheek. She nuzzled back, then watched as he lingered before the library fire longer than necessary, warming his hands and rear.

“Are you all right, my dear?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. I’ve developed a slight headache is all, and it makes the task of my remaining letters all the more daunting.”

“I can imagine. I wish you would take a day off sometime soon, so that you may rest for longer than a few hours at a stretch. I believe it would do you wonders. Winter is generally a time for peaceful contemplation, but it’s been a frenzy of activity for you these past months. You are overdue for some leisure, my love.”

“You are right, as usual. Sometime very soon, dearest, I will take a week or two off and we will spend all the leisurely hours together you could wish. Perhaps we’ll even have a romp outside in the snow. Within the next month, once this mess is more or less cleaned up. Would that suit you?”

“It would suit me very fine indeed. While you could never be accused of neglecting me, I have been missing my husband of late, most especially his smile. That has been the most absent part of you.”

“For that I am sorry. I don’t like to bring my business affairs into our life together. My lovely, patient wife. You are too good to me.

“Well and I could say the same of you, so there. Enough of that. Come kiss me again, then go to your work before you fall asleep standing up.”

“As you command.” He was truly in danger of this, as he felt his lids growing heavier all the time, so he forced himself to move away from the pleasant heat, going to her side and kissing her fully this time, savoring her sweet lips before reluctantly pulling away. “Away I go. See you soon, darling.”

 Mr. Darcy could not rid himself of the clinging fatigue for the rest of the evening. His remaining letters took longer than usual, and he knew they were not as well done as they ought to be, but at least they were done. When they were finished, he tossed his pen aside eagerly and stretched his stiff neck. Perhaps he should take those leisure days sooner rather than later. He really hadn’t been feeling his best lately, and the wintery weather that had had them in its grasp for weeks certainly wasn’t helping. Also, he missed his wife, though he had just seen her. He missed spending time with her, and not just in stolen hours here and there. 

Right now all he wanted was to curl up beside her in bed, and talk of sweet nothings, and perhaps make sweet love. Hopefully that would help shake this irritating headache. Yes, they were long overdue for quality time spent together. He would make arrangements for some time away immediately, hopefully as early as a fortnight from now. The thought immediately made him calmer as he finished up a few small things, then hurried to find her and begin the more pleasant part of the evening.

2.

“Heh-KERRR-CHOOOOO! Heh- heh- KITSHHH’CHOOOO”

A bellowing sneeze startled Elizabeth from her book the next morning, and the even louder one that followed caused her to go investigate it’s source. To her surprise, following the sound of the miserable sniffles led to her husband’s study, where she found him ineffectually wiping his dripping nose with an already-damp handkerchief. 

“My dear Mr. Darcy, is that you making all that racket? My heavens, bless you! I don’t know as I’ve ever heard a sneeze so resounding in all my life. Were you holding it in all morning for it to grow to such a volume?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he sniffled sourly. “It was merely a sneeze.”

She quirked an eyebrow, amused. “I would beg to argue. You sneeze particularly violently, my dear. Likely because, as I noted, you hold them in until you can’t anymore.”

“Well, since you are evidently the expert,” he muttered as he pressed on with his work, coughing softly. 

She rarely saw this severe, prickly side of him these days, and this, more than anything else, concerned her and made her know he shouldn’t be teased at present. He really must be feeling poorly. She moved to his side and pressed against him as she had the day before, rubbing his shoulder. He did not respond, physically or otherwise.

“You are unwell, my love. You should go take some rest. You quite look as if you have gotten the wrong end of this cold of a sudden.”

“I am fine. Don’t worry yourself. I am only in need of some tea and I shall be quite well.”

“I’d be happy to fetch you tea, but I’d be happier to fetch it for you in bed, or at least in your chair in the library. I fear these large windows will do you no favors with the draft.”

“I have many things I need to see to today. I cannot take time to rest. And all my files are here in the study. I haven’t been ill since I was a boy. I’m certainly not going to be ill now.”

Lizzie sighed and shook her head at the foolishness of males. “Have it your way, then. I’ll see you get some tea. Was there anything else you’d like?”

“Just a scone or two. Thank you, dearest.” He finally turned his gaze to her, and she saw true gratitude there, despite the reddened, watery eyes and dripping nose. “And forgive my rudeness when you came in. You startled me, but I should not speak to you like that. Please forgive me.”

“Of course you’re forgiven, and I am sorry I startled you. You know I only worry about you because I love you.”

“As I love you, my Lizzie.” He coughed wetly into his handkerchief. “Now please, if you’d leave me. I really do have much to do, and you are ever my truest distraction. I will see you this evening. And please know, I am doing all this so that we can have our time together very soon.”

“Yes, my dear.” She sighed softly and made her way out, stopping one of the servants to request her husband’s tea and scones. She gave explicit instructions for the type of tea and what was to be in it, things to soothe an aching throat and ward off fever. If he wouldn’t have a care for his own body, she would be forced to do it for him. She only hoped he would see reason sooner than later and take himself off to bed before he caught his death in that drafty study.

~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, Darcy was endlessly studious and conscientious, not to mention stubborn, and so he stayed in his study, or was running around with different servants and community members all day. He did his best to conduct his business as excellently as ever, despite how very unwell he was beginning to feel.

When their paths would cross later in the day though, she could see he was flagging. His cough had become quite the nuisance, and his nose and lips were raw and chapped. Dark circles began to show under his eyes, vivid against sickly pallor. Every now and again, she heard a massive, wet sneeze disturb the air from wherever he was. She gave him sympathetic smiles and little encouragements whenever she could, but what she truly wanted was to see him to bed and tend to his every need there. The misery on his face made her ache for him. If only he wasn’t so proud. And yes, stubborn.

She was quite relieved when he joined her at their evening meal, wearily announcing he was done working for the day, and she told him such. He was quiet and withdrawn for the remainder of the evening, aside from his frequent sniffles and coughs, and the occasional explosive sneeze, which never failed to make her jump, even as they became more and more frequent. 

Taking his lead, she also said very little, reading exhaustion in every line of his frame, especially as his sneezes and coughs harshened. If she had been another woman, and he another man (indeed, her parents came to mind), she would have said again that she wished he would take the day off tomorrow. But it was not in her to nag, and if she had he would only have become angry, or withdrawn completely. She had said her part this morning, and she knew he had heard her and remembered. What he did from here was his choice alone. 

She watched him unobtrusively as he dozed by the fire that evening, feeling such love in her breast for her dedicated, hardworking husband, but no small amount of worry either. They had been married nearly three years, and she had never once seen him ill. She hoped it was truly only trifling, as he kept insisting it was whenever anyone asked. 

They went to bed earlier than usual, her feigning equal tiredness for his sake, so he wouldn’t feel he was being a burden. But indeed, all she wanted of the rest of this day was to lie beside him in bed, perhaps rub his back, and just be near him for whatever he needed. To her delight, that is exactly what happened. He said very little, and asked for nothing, stifling sneezes now and again even as his frequent, chesty coughing fits worsened, but merely lay beside her and let her rub away at his aches and chills as he fell asleep.

3.

Darcy and Eliza were both early risers, and both loved to greet the day while it was still fresh and full of promise. Being the man though, Mr. Darcy was always up and about before his wife, for it took him far less time to dress, and there were several things he liked to see to before breakfast, though he never neglected to kiss her goodbye as he left.

Imagine her surprise then, when the next morning found him still soundly asleep beside her when her maids came in to help her dress at their usual time. The sound of their arrival woke her, but her poor husband hardly stirred. She hurried out of bed, calming the poor, startled ladies in hushed tones, assuring them they had done no wrong. They helped her dress and fix her hair simply and comfortably before Elizabeth shooed them out again, saying she wasn’t sure what they should tell the other staff, as she had no idea what mind her husband would be in when he finally woke. 

Lizzie sighed as they left. Now it would be all over the house that he was sick abed, and who knew what other irrepressible rumors. He would hate that. However, at present it was the truth so he would just have to deal with it whenever he woke. In the meantime, she picked up her book and read in the chair by the fire, wanting to be close when he woke.

That turned out to be shortly thereafter. He first began to toss and turn a bit, then he started to cough, then he nearly made her jump out of her chair with one of his tremendous sneezes. 

“Heh -KER- CHUUUUHHF!” The noise was thick and miserable-sounding, more than hinting at painfully clogged sinuses and a raw, scratchy throat. While he was mopping the mess from his face with his handkerchief, his lungs decided to take their turn at clearing themselves as well, and he erupted into a series of wet, strenuous coughs. 

She made her way to his side during this sad display, gently stroking his tousled hair as he quieted. He groaned softly when he was able and pressed into her embrace, still holding the handkerchief to his nose, eliciting a cluck of sympathy from his wife at his sorry state.

“My poor dear,” she murmured. “Your health is much worse this morning.”

“Mby head is like a lead weight od the pillow,” he croaked. “Fatigue weighs dowd mby limbs dreadfully.”

“Then you will not work today?”

“Mby wise wife advised that I look after mby body more, and today mby body tells mbe I must rest, so rest I shall,” he murmured sleepily. “As long as you’ll keeb mbe company?”

“I would love nothing more. This is perhaps not the leisurely day we had hoped for, but I’ll accept it just the same." She tenderly caressed his cheek, frowning as she felt it. "You are terribly feverish, darling." Yet she hardly needed to feel, for just by looking at his flushed, sweaty face and seeing him shake with chills, the fever made its presence known.

"And yet I'mb chilled to the bone. I had forgotten how beastly udpleasant it is to catch cold," he rasped with a thick sniffle.

"Indeed, it makes one feel for your poor sister all the more. It seems she is laid up with a cold every other week. Now, how does tea appeal to you? And perhaps some food? You hardly touched supper last night."

"Tea would be lovely. Mby abbetite still eludes me however. But, if only to please you, I would try sumb toast and an egg."

Lizzie had servants running for his requests in short order while Darcy tended to his nose, blowing it over and over, soaking through more than one handkerchief. His tray was delivered in record time. Seeing it arrive, Darcy slowly levered himself to a sitting position, pressing a hand to his temple.

"Mby head is throbbi'g," he mumbled.

Elizabeth pressed the cup of tea into his hands, looking sympathetic. "Drink some. It may help your head."

He did as he was bid, drawing his knees to his chest like a boy as he drank while she rubbed his back. However, another tremendous sneeze almost made him spill the whole thing. 

“Ah- ah- KITCHSHOOOOO! Ugh…” He sought his handkerchief desperately, and when Elizabeth handed it to him, he pressed it harshly against his streaming nose to stem the flow, groaning as he did. Elizabeth hastily took the teacup from his again, for it seemed in danger of being upended at any moment.

"Bless you! My poor dear, what can I do for you? Besides keeping a stack of handkerchiefs here for your poor nose."

"I would ask you to help mbe dress in a few moments," he said, his voice muffled behind the fabric as he tried to rub away the headache between his eyes. "While I will be as quick as I cad, I must speak to mby steward and give hib sumb idstructions for mby absence."

"Can you not write him instead? I fear for you going out in the cold, lest this settles in your chest."

"Mby head aches too miserably to do a probber job with writing. I fear I would forget somethi'g crucial. Ndo, I'll quickly  go dowd and speak to hib, and thed I'll return. Ndo going outside for mbe today, never fear."

She sighed and nodded, knowing he would not be dissuaded. "At least finish your tea and try some egg before you go so you don't collapse on the stairs."

"I'mb far from collapse mby dear, I assure you." His general appearance said otherwise though, as he had been miserably coughing into his handkerchief throughout the whole conversation, and had yet to stop shivering. However, she held her tongue and served him breakfast instead. 

Lizzie saw he made an effort to eat as much as he could, and though it was only a few bites, she was slightly placated. She knew he would not relax until he had set what affairs he could in order. So, after his tea was gone, when he rose and began to dress, she assisted him, for she realized the sooner he left, the sooner he would return.

"I'd rather not ri'g for mby valet, as I'd be worried I would sdeeze on hib," muttered Darcy, looking embarrassed as she straightened his jacket while he futilely tried to blow his nose, which only served to make him cough yet again.

"It's no trouble at all, dear. Only please hurry back. I truly worry for that cough." 

"I'll be back under your watchful eye as quick as I cad, dearest," he murmured, grazing her ear with his lips as she slipped an extra handkerchief in his pocket. With that, he was gone, his boots thumping down the hall wearily.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time dragged as she waited for him. While she knew he could take care of himself and she didn't need to be here the moment he returned, she also knew he would want her to be. Her husband was a strong man, but at times like these, he depended on her, and she was not about to disappoint him. So, while there were plenty of things she could have seen to around the manor herself, she waited in his sitting room with her needlework, keeping the fire high. 

Finally she heard him in the hall. She rushed to open the door as he shuffled in, looking spent. 

 "Darcy dear! I expected you an hour ago!"  she said, helping him shed his coat. Suddenly she felt his shoulders hitch under her hands as his breath scissored:

"Ktt-tsshhEEW!" The wet spraying sneeze was his response, only partially stifled by the sodden handkerchief he held. She blessed him worriedly as he again mopped his face.

"I'mb sorry, dearest," he finally managed. "I was stobbed many tibes between mby study and here to answer questions. I cabe as quick as I could."

He fell wearily into the chair nearest the fire with a deep groan and a deeper cough. He bent to try and remove his boots, but his efforts were hampered, as his nose streamed dreadfully if he bent over. He had to keep a hand pressed to his face as he tried to undo the fastenings with the other. 

Elizabeth knelt in front of him and gently pushed his hands away, loosening and removing the boots herself as he leaned back in the chair, sniffling wetly. 

"Thagk you, mby love," he croaked. 

"Here, have some more tea, I've just had Mary bring some. There, now what suits you best? Shall we cover you warmly and sit here by the fire, or would you like me to fetch you some soup? I won't ask if you want to call for Dr. Bishop yet since I know what you'll say, though I have half a mind to."

"There's ndo need for the doctor," replied her husband. "Whad I most want right now is to lie dowd and sleeb sumb few hours yed. Mby mind is sluggish. I cad hardly grasp on a thought except how exhausted I amb."

"Then take my arm and let's get you to bed, poor man. I imagine some more sleep will do wonders for you."

"I don't need help walki'g mby dear, I'm not invalid, only full of cold." Even still, he took her proffered arm as he stood and rested a hand on her shoulder warmly as she led him to the bedroom.

"That may be, but I'll see you there myself just the same to make sure there's no distractions along the way." She kissed his hand and caressed it fondly as they made their way to the bed. She helped him remove all the clothes she had helped him don not long before and replace them with his nightshirt. While he clearly needed to sleep, he also seemed loath to let her out of his sight. He remained sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment with her pressed against his side. She scratched his back fondly. 

“You should lie down, dear. You’re more asleep than awake.”

Instead, he wrapped his arms around her unexpectedly, burying his face in her abdomen with a weary sigh. Elizabeth was slightly startled, but gladly reciprocated the embrace, burying her face in his hair. Her husband was an affectionate man, but not usually physically so. This gesture from him, while not at all unwelcome, was unexpected. 

“I feel terrible,” he groaned, barely audible, leaning most of his weight against her. “Mby body runs amok with mbe.”

“So it seems. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t wish this cold of yours on anyone.”  

She held him for a few peaceful moments. Just as she was about to again suggest he lie down, for it seemed he was in danger of falling asleep against her, his back twitched violently and he tried to pull away.

“heh-GIHH’CHOOOO! Hehht-kk’CHOOOOOF!” 

Neither had time to react as poor Mr. Darcy sneezed thickly, his face still pressed against his startled wife. She couldn't suppress a little gasp as he pulled away, stammering apologies and wiping his traitorous nose. 

She was silent a moment appraising the state of her dress, then an unladylike snort of laughter escaped her, sending her into a little fit of giggles even as she comforted her overwrought husband, pressing him gently back against the pillows. 

“It’s all right, my love. Such things happen. ‘Tis only a dress, and I have plenty more. It seems neither of us are coming away from this cold of yours unscathed. But there now, you’re completely spent. You can hardly keep your eyes open, red as they are. Take some more rest, my love.”

“You’re too good to mbe,” he croaked, fighting against his heavy eyelids but already nearly asleep, the handkerchief still in his limp hand on the bed.

She reached out, caressing his face and brushing hair from his brow. “No more of that. Close your eyes and sleep, for how else do you expect to get better?” She clucked her tongue softly again. “You really are painfully warm, poor man. It is most worrisome,” she said, more to herself than him.

“I’ll be alright,” he mumbled, the last word turning into a snore as he finally gave in to the needs of his body.

~~~~~~~~~~

4.

That was to be the last interaction Mr. Darcy would remember for quite some time. He fell into a deep sleep then, and everything that happened over the next few days would be blurred flashes in his mind at best, hazed by illness and fever.

Of course, the same could not be said for Elizabeth. After he fell asleep, she left him and tended to some of her duties around the manor (after changing her gown, naturally). She did not want to hover in the sickroom, both for her sake and his, so she forced herself to stay away for several hours, knowing he would ring if he needed something.

Still, in the late afternoon she returned, unable to stay away any longer. He was exactly as she had left him, snoring softly. He didn’t seem to have moved at all in his sleep, which was most unlike him. She again went to feel his forehead, sensing something amiss. He was much warmer than before. A knot of worry pulsing in her heart, she tried to shake him awake. He opened his eyes and seemed to look at her, but she could tell he wasn’t truly awake, and didn’t respond when she spoke to him, only grunted and coughed, trying to roll over and sleep again. 

Without further ado, she sent for Doctor Bishop, pacing the halls outside Darcy’s rooms until he arrived, wringing her hands in worry and opening the door to check on her husband every few minutes, to ensure he got no worse.  

The doctor arrived quickly, heading right into the sickroom. He did a thorough examination, listening to Mr. Darcy’s heart and lungs, checking his pulse and 100 other things. Darcy woke briefly a few times, but only managed answers of a word or less before he dozed off again. His large frame looked somehow both bigger and smaller than it should, curled up limply on the bed, with only his breathing as evidence of life. After he was through, the wise doctor scrutinized his patient, deep in thought. Elizabeth remained silent, waiting with baited breath. Finally the doctor turned to her. 

“You said he’s been overworking himself and run down lately, yes?”

“Yes, doctor. Business has been troubling him of late.”

“Hm. So it seems. Well, overall his vital signs are normal for a man with a cold. I see nothing overly alarming, excepting the high fever. That is a touch worrisome, but can at times be seen in such cases. No, I don’t fear any illness has befallen him except what you’ve said, a bad cold. I think he’s simply exhausted, and this cold has caught up with him and brought everything down at once. I’ll wager the fever will subside in a day or two, and the rest in the days after that as long as he gets the rest he sorely needs. I shan’t prescribe him anything except what he already has here with you, Mrs. Darcy. Let him sleep as much as he wants, keep him hydrated and don’t cover him too warmly, and I think this will run its course soon enough.”

It was as if great weight fell off her shoulders as he spoke. “Oh, thank you doctor! Indeed, I shall do just as you say, and make sure he does as well.”

“Please do. The stubbornness of the Darcys is well known to me, for my father and his father have been treating this family for generations. I’ll come round to see him every day until I’m satisfied he’s on the mend, if that suits you.”

“Oh, yes please, and thank you kindly. You have my deepest gratitude, sir.”

“My pleasure, madame. Until tomorrow.” He tipped his hat and was gone.

With a huge sigh of relief, Elizabeth collapsed on the chair at her husband’s bedside. After a moment, she found his hand under the quilt and held it, needing to feel his touch, even if in unconsciousness. After a moment, he unexpectedly squeezed it. She looked up to see his eyes were fluttering closed, but his face was angled toward her now. She took a moment to appreciate that fine face, though currently his nose, cheeks, and eyes were matching shades of red against the sickly pallor over the rest of him.

She sighed and softly kissed his hand. “Get well soon, my dear.”

He certainly took his time doing so, or so it seemed to Eliza. Either she or Georgiana were at his side at all times. He slept constantly, barely waking even to drink water. He spoke hardly at all and asked for nothing. He would intermittently shake with chills, or else sweat profusely. He sneezed in thick, messy fits, several at a time, but then would go hours between, until the sensation again overpowered and woke him. He coughed more often, since that it seemed he could do even as he slept. 

Yes, he slept, but he was overall restless. Noise in the room roused him. He stirred when he was touched. He stirred when he coughed. He woke when he sneezed. His sleep didn’t seem peaceful, which was perhaps why he never fully woke, because he wasn’t fully resting. 

The first night, Elizabeth slept in her own rarely-used bedroom (she much preferred sharing his), wanting him (and herself) to rest as much as possible. The second night though, she was achingly lonely, missing his touch, his voice, and his smile. So, she crawled into her usual place beside him in his bed, pressing herself against him. She found herself cold, as she had been since he was ill from the worry, so his warmth was more than pleasant. 

She herself relaxed immediately as soon as she was against him, but more surprisingly, so did he. He didn’t wake and hardly stirred when he felt her, but his breathing quickly deepened and he relaxed more fully as they rested against each other. Basking in the sensation of enjoying one another’s touch, they both slept the whole night that way. 

~~~~~~~~~~

More than 48 hours after he first fell asleep, Darcy finally woke up completely. Naturally, it was a sneeze that did it. 

“Heh’gihh’CHUUUHFF! AHHGK-CHOOOF! … ow….”

Something in the tone made Lizzie turn. She had been sitting facing the fire with her needlework, but glancing at the bed, she saw her husband sitting up, one hand to his temple, the other wiping his nose, and looking aware of his surroundings for the first time in 2 days. She dashed to his side, feeling his forehead at once.

“Bless you, dear. My, but it’s good to see you awake! Oh, and your fever is much decreased, how wonderful! How do you feel? Is your head hurting you? Here, drink some water, the doctor said you’re likely dehydrated…”

She wanted to prattle on, but she saw he was a bit overwhelmed, so she forced her tongue to be still. She gently grasped his hands, to calm him as well as herself, and kissed them fondly. She then handed him a glass of water, and he drank gratefully as she looked him over. He seemed a bit better, but he continued to look around in a dazed way.”

“Have I been asleeb long?” he finally rasped, his voice totally gone, and still stuffed tight with congestion.

“I would say so. It’s been two days darling.” She did her best to keep the worry and accusation out of her voice. He couldn’t help that he’d been ill.”

“Two days?! Good heavens.” He fell back against the pillows with a groan and a cough. “Ndo wonder I feel so sluggish.”

“Yes, but it seems you needed it. The doctor has been out every day, and he says you were suffering from exhaustion. Your body was taking the rest it sorely needed.”

“So it seebs.” He rubbed his eyes wearily.

“How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Sumb better, I thingk,” he said with a wet sniffle. “Less fevered. I am still weary, and will sleep another night soundly through, but I hope I’m on the mend now.”

“As do I.” She kissed his hand again, squeezing it tightly.

~~~~~~~~~~

5.

Mr. Darcy was indeed on the mend. He was moving about his rooms freely the next day, and 2 days after that, he was allowed by the doctor (and his wife, grudgingly) to resume his duties, though at a reduced basis, for his cough still lingered, along with some fatigue. Yet he was incredibly cheerful to be leaving his rooms, and everywhere he went, he had a spring in his step.

That same day he was freed found Elizabeth curled on the settee in her rarely-used personal sitting room, wrapped in a coverlet and trying to read. However, her dripping nose and throbbing headache prevented her from making much progress in the story. 

A barking cough burst out of her against her will, making her drop her book. With a feeble groan, she reached down to retrieve it, holding a handkerchief to her streaming nose. She had known she likely wouldn’t escape catching her husband’s cold, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant. However, she was not about to spoil his first day of freedom with her own illness, so she was hiding here to avoid him as long as she could.

Just as she was thinking this, she heard his boots in the hall, and she suppressed another groan. He knocked softly, then peeked in the door, looking happy as well as confused when he saw her.

“Mary said I might find you here, but I thought she must be mistaken. Whatever are you doing? I was hoping to meet you for tea.”

She took a breath to answer, but instead the urge to sneeze snuck up on her. She shoved her elbow against her face, turning away from him to stifle the stubborn urge harshly:

“HXXT’GH! HNNKT! HXXTCH! Guh…” she mumbled at the end, which turned into a painful cough that she hardly had breath for.

Darcy was at her side in a moment, kneeling by her arm and feeling her forehead just as she had his so many times the past few days. Concern and regret crossed his face. “You have a fever, dearest. It seems I’ve shared my cold with you,” he said, stifling a little cough.

“You always were the gentleman, never failing to share with a lady,” she groused weakly.

His low chuckle was warm. “I’m truly sorry. Yet I heard you hardly left the bedchamber while I was ill, so I suppose it was inevitable.”

“Especially since you sneezed on me,” she mumbled, trying not to smile.

“Indeed,” he chuckled again. “I’m sorry for that as well. But now, enough talk. Rest your voice. Come up to bed and I’ll see you get some tea and toast.”

“Perhaps I don’t want to go to bed, did that occur to you? I’ve spent all week in that bedchamber and I’d prefer to not be forced to go back,” she muttered petulantly. 

“I can tell you’re feeling unwell, for you’re never so irritable. That more than anything tells me I must see you to bed immediately.” His tone indicated some teasing, but mostly seriousness. Without further ado, he scooped her up in one motion and stood, carrying her toward their bedchamber, a little smile playing around his lips. 

“Why you--! I’ve never been thus treated in my entire life. Put me down, you terrible man!” Yet she couldn’t keep from laughing, miserable though she was, which of course turned into a cough. She hadn’t felt so ill in a long time. In fact, the overwhelming urge to sneeze was coming over her again. She struggled weakly to free her arms from where he had them pinned, but it was too late: 

“Hhh’rrrrushh’eeeew! Herrr’CHEW! Hihhh’knn’CHOOF!” She sneezed explosively against his chest, covering them both in the spray. His steps paused as he looked down at her, open-mouthed, while she stared back, reddening in embarrassment, but slightly triumphant.

“...bless you, my Lizzie,” Darcy finally said, an odd smile on his face.

“Thank you. I’m terribly sorry!... But what choice did I have, when I can’t move my arms? Now we’re even, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” he chuckled again as he resumed walking. “And I suppose if you must sneeze on someone, it’s best if it’s me, as I can’t very well catch this cold again. But all the more reason for me to see you to bed. You look a mess. In the loveliest possible way, of course.”

“How charming you are, Mr. Darcy. You have quite a way of flattering a woman.”

He chuckled again, but by this time they had reached his bedchamber. He deposited her on the bed with the utmost gentleness, and proceeded to assist her in changing into more comfortable clothes. She shivered miserably as she changed so that her teeth nearly chattered. Darcy tucked her in warmly and quickly rang for some tea, then began to remove his own boots and coat. She watched him curiously, though with heavy eyes, for she suddenly she found herself exhausted. With pleasure she realized he planned to join her in bed. 

He did just that a few moments later, pulling her close against himself and wrapping her in his big, warm arms. She nuzzled in gratefully with a sniffle and a cough. He buried his face in her hair as they settled, coughing as well. 

“What are you doing, Darcy dear? I thought you had many things to do today,” she mumbled, already nearing sleep. “You’ve had so many days off yourself. You needn’t take another for me, though it seems we’re quite a mess still.”

“This has become the most important thing I must do today,” he yawned. “You were a saint to look after me this whole week, so now I must return the favor. I’m not likely to let an opportunity pass to spend time with you after these past weeks, for I’ve learned my lesson.  And I too am already weary, for this cold hasn’t quite left me. A nap would suit me fine, especially if I can warm you in the process.” 

When a servant arrived with tea, no one greeted him, and when he opened the door with the tray, he found it best to simply leave it nearby and duck out again, for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were fast asleep. 

[mintly]

Thank you so much for tagging me @princip1914! These questions were looking really fun to respond to!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Eleven!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 39,406! (It's-not-much-but-it's-honest-work.jpeg)

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? I've written for 3 fandoms on AO3: Good Omens, Steven Universe and Sakana. I have a handful of half finished fics for other fandoms that never made it so far, alas.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Not Your Nan's Demon Summoning (Good Omens, G, 655) Crowley was sulking. He and Aziraphale could be having a cuddle by the telly with truffles from that little shop they liked in Brighton, but no. Instead of a cozy night in, all he had was an increasingly lukewarm mug of coffee and the indignity of being trapped inside what appeared to be a grandmother’s sitting room.

For Fear of Burning (Good Omens, E, 1k) After the thermos was delivered, the tension of a hundred years of fear and pain crackled between them like fireworks. Then it snapped, popping and sizzling, catching flame in a burst of desire. They hadn’t even made it under the sheets this time.

Before We Turn to Dust (Steven Universe, T, 6.1k) Their days were dirt roads and endless blue sky. It would be freedom, except it wasn't. Sapphire is a quiet country storefront and Ruby dreams.

Sentiments of Great and Indefinite Scale (Good Omens, T, 8.3k, WIP) Crowley likes Aziraphale. He really, really likes him. It's terrible. He can't help it if his one friend is an angel, but also a bastard, and that he really wants to hold his hand and run his fingers the feather-soft curls of his hair and kiss him until he's breathless. It's not his fault that Aziraphale is entirely irresistible. Crowley finds any excuse to pull him closer, and Aziraphale, most of the time, lets him. Isn't friendship amazing? - Six thousand years of dates and Crowley misses the memo.

Shiver at Your Touch (Good Omens, E, 3.9k) It was a new millennium, and the London Eye had recently opened to the public. Aziraphale had been hinting for ages that Crowley might take him. "Crowley, you must take us to the opening," Aziraphale said.

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Yes! Immediately omg. As soon as I see a comment, I usually respond to it! I just really appreciate each and every one; it's honestly overwhelming to me sometimes that people read my work and maybe even enjoy it enough to leave me a kind word. Also if I do it immediately I won't forget to respond, which I might otherwise whoops.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Oooh, I hope the end of Rupture and Rapture hits the hardest, but For Fear of Burning gives it a run for its money. I love an angsty, longing oneshot!

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? Thankfully not hate, not really!

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? I only started writing smut with my Good Omens fic, and I suppose any sort? I'm still not particularly assured in my smut writing abilities, but I've found it's fun to incorporate that sort of intimacy and vulnerability into a story! It can be so powerful, with happiness or longing or sadness, etc.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Oh gosh, not that I know of!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated? I've been asked before, but I never saw the final result. So maybe!!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet! @caffeinechic and I have something on the backburner though!! ONE DAY.

13. What’s your all time favourite ship? ffsjdifhsudf if I'm honest, it's my favorite in whatever fandom I'm in at the moment, but I have such a fondness for all my old ships too. I really do love Aziraphale/Crowley though, ever since I first read the book.

14. What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I only have one WIP (Sentiments) and I will finish it!!! I promise!!! I am making progress, I swear.

15. What are your writing strengths? I like to think that I'm good at imagery; I spend a lot of time trying to pick the proper words to convey a certain vibe, especially verbs! I also work a lot on rhythm and sentence variation so that certain lines Hit Different u know, so I hope that comes through! I just love working on the fine detail of each sentence omg.

16. What are your writing weaknesses? SLOW. I'm so slow. I find it really hard to finish something after about the 2/3 mark and that last third is a slog oftentimes. It's something I'm working on as I try to finish fics and shrink my WIP folder.

But on a technical level, I really want to work on improving story structure so that I feel more confident and able to write longer works! I'm a short story author at my core, but I'd love to write something novel-length one day.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I think that it's important to keep your audience in mind and the purpose for including it! Using another language for a brief phrase or exchange can do a lot to establish a character or setting, but I also think the meaning should be easily gleaned or immediately translated within the context of the story. There're exceptions of course, but that's just how I'd do it (and plan to)!

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? Ooooh my gosh. Pokemon Special/Pokemon Adventures, which is the Pokemon manga! You can no longer find these on fanfiction.net, which is for the best. I was very proud of them back then though, and I love that it set me onto writing as a hobby!!

19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written? This is such a difficult question omg. At the moment I'm still really proud of Rapture and Rupture, but I'm also still very fond of the depth I managed to add in my first Good Omens fic, When We Fall In.

Phew! Okay, I think I'll tag @fremulon and @forineffablereasons, if either of you want to play! I'd also be happy to hear from anyone else! I really do love to hear authors talk about their work!! TELL ME YOUR PASSIONS I WILL LISTEN

[starlight-and-seafire]

Question for my readers

Things finally seem to be settling down around here. I’m not running around all the time like a chicken with its head cut off due to *gestures at everything,* and I’m not (too) overwhelmed, tired, or stressed. And most importantly, I’m feeling the creative urge again.

Now the issue is that when I look a break from writing longer pieces, I left a lot of projects incomplete, ranging from drafting outlines to pieces half-written to things that just need to be edited. And while I’ve been considering exploring some other fandoms and pairings, I wanted to return to my favorite one first.

So I’m curious. What Damerey fic should I work on first?

1) 4,000 words of mostly smutty smut smut. I actually wrote this back in August for a Damerey fic weekend, although I had been sitting on this idea ever since I finished writing “A Political Affair.” It’s already been entirely drafted, just needs some editing. Definitely the piece that could go up quickest.

2) A two-shot set between TLJ and TRoS and slightly afterwards. Mutual pining in the midst of war, but also with sex. About half-drafted so far. I’m estimating about 6,000 words when completed.

3) One-shot. Once a scavenger, always a scavenger - it’s not surprising to see that so many things of Poe’s have become Rey’s (including his heart, yes, yes, this is so much fluff). About 1,500 words drafted, half-written so far.

4) A one-shot (potentially two). Poe’s always been the romantic type, while Rey is more ... forthright. This has been in my WIP folder for a long time, but after watching Oscar Isaac’s episode of SNL with some other Damerey’s, I will now make sure to incorporate the phrase “raw intercourse.” About 1,500 words so far.

5) Long fic. Fake dating in the canon-verse set after TRoS. Rey and Poe are both highly sought after as potential romantic partners, but neither of them have the time for this, they both just want to focus on their work. *Oh no, what ever could possibly happen?!* It’s been awhile since I looked at it, but I’m guessing only about a third or less of it has been written. It’s currently sitting at about 16,000 words.

6) Long fic. Modern AU, Rey owns a bookshop, Poe owns a bakery. There’s a bit of a rivalry between their businesses, but--surprising literally no one--it all works out in the end. Currently sitting at around 11,000 words.

7) Work on none of the above! Write some shorter drabbles or ficlets, go through some prompt lists/take suggestions.

So there are the main works I’m interested in getting back to work on. Any suggestions for what I should focus on first?

[janusa]

fic writer review!

thanks @thebluewritingbench​ for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

45 across different fandoms

2. Whats your total ao3 word count?

147,116 atm

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

About 5 or 6? But the ones I have more content in is Shadowhunters and Supergirl.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

the sg fandom is the most interactive one i’ve been in so 4/5 are sc

all the universe laboured to bring us together (the rest is up to us) -  in which Mxyzptlk takes Kara to different earths where they are friends but Lena is in established relationships so Kara can finally realize she's in love with her.

on the way home - The Danvers sisters travel to Midvale for a short vacation and their girlfriends tag along, or for Kara is more like her girl friend.

I’m thinking about adding a little epilogue to this one since i’ve been screamed at in the comments a few times lol

i believe in red - lena starts leaving lipstick marks on kara’s clothes for more reasons than the obvious one,

realization - Magnus suspects it and it takes him three times and a chat with Cat to realize that yes, his soul and Alec’s accidentally bonded.

on purpose - kara believes in soulmates, however when she tells lena about she being supergirl everything goes down the road and she has to start to reconsider what are really soulmates.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

yes, to some of them, there are some comments that i can’t say much to beyond a ‘thanks’ so i don’t always answer them but i read every one of them multiple times, they hit me like crack.

6. A fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending

i’m the happy ending business so there’s no much material to choose from. I have a malec drabble where alec dies from age with magnus by his side. i guess that the end of ‘seven year itch’ as well because they end up divorced but they’re (supposed) to be back in the sequel that one day i’ll finish writing.

7. Do you write crossovers?

No, but sometimes I include characters from the same universe, like in sh i sometimes write lily, she’s in the books but not the show or with sg i really like barry and sarah so i’d like to include them someday.

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

Not really, just some confusing comments in which idk if they’re being sarcastic or not .

9. Do you write smut?

Not very often but yes

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No that I know

11. Ever had a fic translated?

Once I was asked if they could translate one of my fics to korean, I said yes but Idk if they ever did it

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Nop, just like art based of and vice versa kinda thing

13. All time fav ship?

not all time but atm is Supercorp

14. WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

there’s been sitting in my wip folder a kinda revenant!lena fic (not the movie) that includes like mythology and coincidentally her mom being some water spirit etc, some heavy ansgt with its respective happy ending of course. that fic and also “no turning back” 

15. Writing strengths?

I never lack ideas, dialogue and narration, I think I’m good identifying the characters personalities (emphasis on i think)

16. Writing weaknesses?

slow as shit, i get so easily distracted that is a victory whenever i write more than a paragraph in a row

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

it’s fine but i think it’s necessary either to add the meaning on the notes or explain it in the narration

18. First fandom you wrote for?

inuyasha, i wrote it for like seven years but everything is on spanish so... none of you will be seeing it

19. What’s your fav fic you’ve written so far?

tough one, right now Mama Penguin Adventures is being really fun to write, it’s cute and fun and not that serious, at least what i’ve written so far

i think most people have been tagged but i'll tag @bytheangell, @kg1507 and whoever else wants to do it really but feel free to ignore me

[missmaxime]

17! 18! 30! 32! 38! <3 <3 <3

Thank you for these! 🥰 17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback? I don’t. Well, not immediately. I try to distract myself for at least half an hour to an hour after posting because by the time I post I’ve already gone mental from finaFinalreRerereadFiNaldefDEFDEF.def x34 and I need to calm down. But after that I compulsively refresh AO3 (for the Beth/Rio tag) and depending on the time of day I start replying to comments or wait for it until morning. I don’t re-read my own fic until at least the day after (and inevitably fix some v obvs spelling mistakes I got blind for during edits). 18. Do you have a WIP that you keep telling yourself you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably a lie? A little while ago I would have maybe said Wild at Heart, but I recently started editing the new chapter and now I’m feeling that story again (I got a bit lost with it over season 3, and it’s a long fic I’m not really used to writing – I had no oversight in my notes and outline and ugh). I think when I do publish it might have a bit of a different tone, especially because I think I progressed a lot over the past six months as a writer. But I have by now accepted that I will never re-write those earlier chapters, so I’m just going to move on and continue the story. BTW. If someone can recommend a/their Word Processor to get a better oversight in longer WIPs, please do! There’s no published WIP I won’t get back to from what I see now. I have a few in my WIP-folder that are a lost cause, main reasons are either because I either forgot I wrote it to begin with, or because I don’t like my style or plot anymore. 30. Post a snippet from you’re a current WIP without context - no more than 300 words. From a WIP I definitely won’t abandon, but one that’s also taking me crazy long to write (because world-building):

Annie swallows everything down, but keeps the bowl of candies protectively close to her chest. “I can’t believe they reached out to you twenty years later,” she says, plopping down next to Beth. “I can’t believe they subpoenaed me.” Annie sits up. “Technically they summoned you—” Beth gives her a look that immediately shuts her up. “You know, it’s good they did. They probably got a notification that you got rid of your Dean-shaped baggage and thought: Presto Matcho, and let’s go!” “Maybe I don’t want to be matched up.” “Relax, sis. Just go out on a date, get those cobwebs cleaned out if he’s a seven or up, and move on with your life!” “Annie!” “You’re right, maybe don’t be that picky, make it a six.” Beth’s all fired up to blow a gasket when a man with a bird tattoo sprawled on his neck enters the waiting room, accompanied by a dark-haired woman in a suit. They’re in a heated discussion, going through a pile of papers that’s full of marked segments and bookmarks. Beth’s getting a bit lost in thought, looking at him when she feels Annie leaning her head on her shoulder. “I served him too,” she whispers in Beth’s ear, pulling her back into reality again. “You!” she hears the guy say, pointing at Annie, who immediately throws her hands up in defense, totally forgetting she was holding the candy bowl which immediately tumbles onto the ground, scattering its contents over the floor. “Hey, I’m just here for my sister, don’t come at me bro!” she tries to laugh it nervously away. He doesn’t think it’s funny. But his gaze lingers on Beth a longer time than might be appropriate before turning his attention back to the woman beside him. 32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from? I can have different favorites varying on the week / day. It usually changes when I post a new fic. Sometimes I’m not even super in love with a line when I post it, but it grows on me when I re-read later. So just three random ones: Regardless of his repeat observation of ‘you’re so tight, baby’, she’s definitely not going to indulge him with the Snoozefest Saga of her sex life of the past decade.  – from Stuck in the Middle It’s a decision he almost immediately regrets. Apparently, Elizabeth is very convinced of her (faulty) navigation skills. And mind you, he has an essentially AI-worthy navigation system build into his (“Is this what you drive? Don’t you think it’s a little… out there? Like, surely you don’t really need something so preposterous to arrive in?” she had laughed cutely after that, but he felt slapped in the face – and not the kind he might be paying her for) G-wagon. – from The Girlfriend Experience “Yeah,” he smiles. “We real good friends too, aren’t we?” he says suggestively. (It’s just, he can’t help it, knows it’s dumb and petty but ugh. He’s suffered through Mick’s eye-rolls enough after returning from a No Elizabeth Murder Night again. The other guy casually looking up from polishing his custom ninja throwing stars - don’t start about it, it’s a whole thing, and Rio’s convinced the man can’t even get them into a wall a three feet away if he wears that one jacket - waiting for Rio to cock his head and ask: “What?” “Nothing,” he had replied, dipping a cloth into the jar of polish. “’Nothing’?” Rio had repeated – a little more petulant than he intended. “What are you, my wife?” Ever so slowly, the corners of Mick’s mouth had turned upwards. “Heard spot’s taken.” Rio may have keyed Mick’s car that night.) Beth smiles back stiffly. - from I See Your True Technicolors I don’t know, I really like doing these kinda scene-in-scene (or sentence) things, I don’t know if this has a name. 38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)? Hmm that kind of depends what part of the process we’re talking about. Let’s roughly break that up in three parts: 1. Working out the idea (8/10): Really, really chaotic. This is just days or weeks of just flashes of ideas and plotpoints and lines of dialogue shooting through my brain. Haphazardly writing those down in various docs, on paper in between my work notes, or in the notes on my phone. When I finally know the rough outline of the story I go into; 2. Writing the fic (4/10): I’m a super chronological writer, I really move from scene A to B to C until I finally arrive at Z. But when I start writing I often only really know A, D, E, J, O, Q, Z – the rest will just grow or appear organically as I write. Sometimes it does mean I won’t write for a few days because I circle back to step 1 for a certain scene. A good example is the Artic Hunter Fairytale Beth tells Jane in Chapter 2 of  I See Your True Technicolors. I knew up front I was going to write a scene where we would see how this seemingly unweighted moment for Beth – she’s just telling a nighttime story – had a massive impact on Jane. There were some themes and motives I felt like needed to make an appearance: the more tangible reason of Jane’s quest, how young kids often hold their parents’ word as truth, and I needed it to be a true heartfelt moment between Beth and Jane. But before I wrote the first line of that scene I had no idea that would be the scene that it became.  So I do outline a bit, but I need to create enough room for myself for moments like that to happen. It’s one of the things I enjoy most about writing. It’s a bit of an organized mess within a tighter frame/outline. 3. Editing (7/10): I’ve really been perfecting my Editing skills over the past 6/7 months  – it’s not perfect, but you live and you learn. I spend more time working on the fic after I ‘finished’ it, really ramped up the spelling and grammar checks (I love you Word editor, but I also hate you), and take more and more care to make sure that all my dialogue feels IC ánd distinctive enough per character (especially the latter I feel like lacks in earlier WAH chapters). So, work in progress, but I feel pretty confident in this one.   Again, thanks for sending these! <3

[crossroadsdimension]

WIP Folder Tag Game

yoinks from @kianlon

I saw this and I thought I’d give it a go, since I’ve got a few of these kicking around....

Fellow writers out there! This is a game for each one of you who needs some love and support for stories in progress. How to play:

Open you WIP Folder.

Post the title for each wip story in there, with a little explanation/quote

Can your readers ask questions about your wips?

Tag as many fellow writers as you like

Have fun!

Links to my AO3 where applicable, although I do have an FF account under FourthWallBreaker if you want to see the One Piece AU that I mention in the last section, as I haven’t posted it to AO3 yet. Don’t be afraid to ask me questions about these ones if you’re curious!

Mental Bonds -- My current creative focus. A Final Fantasy VII AU, this story came from an idea that popped into my head last year -- what if the puppet-connection that Sephiroth had over Cloud was just a telepathic link, and they could communicate through it? Then throw Zack in there for some added shenanigans, and the original plot of the compilation goes sideways. :3 Mental Bonds is a sequel, as I wrote the Crisis Core plot as Mental Link last year. Currently working on chapter 28, posted chapter 9 yesterday. I like the steady progress that I’m making, and the buffer of chapters between me and my readers gives me plenty of room for breaks!

Fairytale -- A Pokemon fanfic, the third in a series following a half-Mew girl who was a runaway Rocket experiment. Crystal, after winning the Hoenn League, travels to Kalos for a much-needed vacation and ends up getting pulled into a series of events she wasn’t exactly planning for. I ran out of some steam on this one because Kalos as a whole is a region I haven’t spent that much time in, so I’m hoping to get this one back on its feet after taking a bit of a break. Granted, it’s been sitting for about a year, so...

Various Gravity Falls-related fics -- These are technically in multiple documents, but I’m lumping them together because for the most part they’re MEANT to be short. I’ve got a one-shot with my AU’s Ford meeting Macbeth from Gargoyles, a crossover idea with Steven Universe that I may never touch on (never watched the cartoon; not sure if it’s gonna be very high on my to-do list anytime soon), and some drabbles and short stories related to my AU (and not related!). Some of those short stories are supposed to be collabs with @howtotrainyournana, but because we’ve been so busy with the Thing Called Life, I’m not seeing them getting written anytime soon. We hope to get to them at some point, but no guarantees that it’ll be anytime soon, y’know?

Maria’s Adventures fics -- If anyone has been keeping up with me and my writing, you guys know I’ve got a soft spot for an OC of mine. A portal-making, dimensional-traveling character, to be precise. Most of these stories will be tied in with the Gravity Falls AU that I created, mostly because she travels with that AU’s Ford, years after his Cipher was removed from existence. I’ve got some one-shot ideas that would happen at any point across Maria’s timeline, a trip to Alola, potentially a FFVII fic (not the Mental Link series), and a return to one of my childhood fandoms with a Transformers fic idea that I’ve been playing around with. These are also within multiple documents.

Miscellaneous fics -- Again, multiple documents, but I’m lumping them together because otherwise this post is going to get long. I’ve got a few OCs that I created and wanted to mess with when I was in high school, but their stories have gone unwritten for years. I might go back to them someday, but I’m not sure. Maybe Erin, Morph, Rush, Shift, and Scribe/Kia will make an appearance someday, but no guarantees on that one yet. I’ve also got a Danny Phantom AU that I started in college (again, haven’t finished or posted) where Sam found a lamp and Danny was the genie inside it. Shenanigans would have gone off from there, obviously. And I’ve got a One Piece AU where Devil Fruit abilities were actually the result of magical accidents (ie, random spells firing off, Ace being crafted out of a giant bonfire, etc), and Zoro was an actual wind demon/former human who got bound into service to Luffy. I might go back and play with it a bit more, but it’d only be written as a series of one-shots if I’m entirely honest.

As for who to tag...hm. Well, you guys aren’t required to do these, obviously, but why not tag @impishnature and @azapofinspiration and leave it up-for-grabs for anyone else? :D

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Translation Plans

Well... my break was pretty good. was finally able to download the clean fresh live version of the cxm secret mission that i had my eye on since i ranked up, saw the 1984 wonder woman movie (it was okay and I could write an essay on what didn’t sit well with me as a fan of the comics [im kinda of a comic book purist when it comes to the way characters think and their behaviour] but I really liked Lynda Carter’s cameo).... made a lot of progress on one of the hakumyu piano arrangements i’m working on (have now probably listened to certain parts of that song over a hundred times now), watched a bunch of the original hakuoki musicals in hd.... and I finally got my dad to play Batman: Arkham Asylum. My bro and I have been trying to get that to happen for years lol... especially since it has Conroy and Hamill doing the Batman and Joker voices (the animated series is the best!). super steep learning curve tho since it’s being played on the ps3 and the last console he used was the Nintendo Gamecube.    

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to stock up on translations as much as I would have liked to during this time on account of my hardware seriously acting up... to the point that I needed to send my laptop in for repairs and get a new one. Aside from how unresponsive my keyboard was and how hot it got, the laptop itself had become quite slow... though that might have been because my passport [external storage drive] took a bad fall which made a lot of my files harder to access since it was barely able to handle files being accessed/copied/moved off of it (this is after diagnosing it and repairing it via command prompt chkdsk x: / r), with the latter being what I spent most of my break waiting for as i avoided using my laptop since the majority of my drama rips and game capture videos were on it... To give you an idea of how long this took (and how long it is still taking), I went from being able to transfer my 50mb of files in a few seconds... to sometimes taking more than a day (tho other times i’d be able to get 4gb moved in >24 hours, making the timing super inconsistent. also i don’t have access to a cd drive now so i can’t just re-rip things)... which is why I haven’t been able to work on any videos since my last post (I have more than 1.3TB of stuff to move, so my new laptop isn’t exactly at its best right now and won’t be for a long while since I’m not going to be using a recovery service as waiting out the transfers for everything out will definitely be cheaper... the ballpark estimate I got was being anywhere from $500-2000, which is money that i am not exactly eager to part from just for the sake of saving time)... meaning I also probably won’t get to videos for a while since subtitling requires accurate timing and im not fond of things freezing on me while working on videos... ugh. i still have to do an insane amount of grinding later in warframe once my current batch of files finishes transferring... 

Anyway, below is a list of what I’ve mostly managed to schedule (anything with a “?” is something that I haven’t committed to) and a list of what I’d like to get done this year (can’t make any guarantees... however, im probably going to try and translate some things with souma this year cuz of hakumyu), while the stuff in bold text is on my shortlist of things I intend to prioritize (Saito’s Ginsei no Shou chapters and Shinsengumi Oni-tan are still being worked on though not as actively since they’re a lot longer...). 

Also, aside from December, the month that CNY falls on (February this year) and March (bday) will be the only foreseeable times when I put out less translations tho I’ll probably be playing video catch-up during that time this year since i’m not sure what i’ll be able to get done as i wait for my files to get moved.

oh well. I’m still aiming towards posting stuff on a weekly basis for the rest of the year... here’s hoping that it’s less volatile.... tho i unfortunately have non-existent expectations given what made the news yesterday. just glad i don’t live there.

YAISA!

------------------------------------------

January

Yuugiroku 3 Saito Fall story today!

Chapter 7 of Saito’s route from Ginsei no Shou + 4-koma

Hakuoki Kyoka-Roku Kazama CG Character Perspective [no vid. havent beaten this game and im not sure when i’ll feel like speed running through it]

Hakuo Gakuen Q & A

February 

Stellaworth Hana no Shou After Story - Harada

Chapter 1 of Saito’s route from Ginsei no Shou

Web drama 8

March

Yuugiroku 3 - Short Episode #8 (Kazama/Amagiri/Shiranui) [still need to get video and screenshots] 

Yuugiroku Drama CD Thumb Sized Samurai Track 1-4 (4 is WIP)?

Char monologue?

April

2017 Otomate Hakuoki SSL April Fool’s Day

薄桜鬼 遊戯録 隊士達の大宴会 店铺特典「教えてください山崎さん！」 (completed yesterday)

Yuugiroku 3 - Short Episode #6 “Yukimura the page’s secret”?

char perspective?

Other

Hijikata Biyori (cuz these are short) 

Yuugiroku 3 Short Episodes (these are longer than the ssl cross and daily stories)

Kyoka Roku Conversation in the Rain - Okita/Toudou/Kazama

Kyoka-Roku CG perspectives

2013 Otomate Party Hakuoki drama “Ideal place for a disagreement”

Saito Ginsei no Shou Chapters

Shinsengumi Oni-tan

Stellaworth Hana no Shou After Stories - Souji, Heisuke (THIS YEAR FOR SURE DAMMIT!)

2011 Hakuoki Reimeiroku Otomate Party drama

Stellaworth Nightshade Kuroyuki CD

薄桜鬼 遊戯録弐 祭囃子と隊士達 A店特典「あなた好みの想いの形」

薄桜鬼 真改 ~風華大全~ 特典「稽古の痛み」

2016 Otomate Party Code:Realize drama* (this is almost 30 min so i will probably translate less that month if i get to it)

2019 ????????????? Halloween SS?*

????????????? Stellaworth Vocal CD (8 tracks)*

*have to check these 3 since I don’t actively follow these fandoms/tags tho im pretty sure no one has translated anything from the fandom for the last 2 items.

also, re:patreon goal - i am currently not able to access the files for the drama i am looking to get a translation commissioned for as it is in the process of being moved off of my damaged passport. 29gb  remains as part of that transfer, which is the result of me trying to move all 865 files from where i keep the majority of the hakuoki dramas i’ve saved all at once... ended up doing that because every time I access that hard drive, each time i open up a folder, and every time I highlight a file to move, the file explorer goes “not responding” for an uncertain amount of time, and have instead opted in doing something that would hopefully reduce the likelihood of something crashing.

[fundielicious-simblr]

wips!

Hey y’all, author here (still feels weird calling myself that ngl) I was inspired by @meetthefundies​ post about pose making from a while back and decided I’d take the dive and finally get into cc making for the sims 4. It’s always something that I’d thought about, and with corona basically shutting everything down I’ve had ample time to try and learn how to do things. The whole of last month was basically a bunch of trial and error, YouTube watching, and Tumblr scrolling (coupled with my parents asking why I have pictures of random white people saved onto my google drive almost every other night 😂💀)

In the middle of august my dad caught corona, and so the government isolated my whole family and I in the house (he’s all better now thankfully) for 2 weeks, meaning I had 14 uninterrupted days of just coming up with different designs and trying to make things work. So this post is to basically just put out there what I’ve been working on, a few have made it into my game to be play tested, but so far only one has actually left CAS 😂 I know these are definitely major works in progress, but my anxiety means that I’d keep redoing things over and over again in an attempt at perfection while the rational side of me tells me that everyone has a starting point - this one is just mine. Anyway, I’m rambling (as usual), so let me just post the damn picture so I can go back to actually working on these pieces 😂😂

I’ll start with the casual clothes,

This is what I’m working on right now, ironically it’s the easiest thing I’ve done so far. This is essentially one of those ‘Snoga’ sports skirt things that fundies wear, this is the second round because the first had annoying clipping that meant I had to go in and change the design. If this one turns out fine enough then I will make different skirt/legging length combinations, but for now I just need this to be usable enough in game to warrant making different styles. 

Sleeveless frumper dress thing (I’ll sit down and come up with names for these later 😂) 

This was inspired by Anna Marie Maxwell and her #fabulous frumpers as well as the frumpers the Maxwells used to wear in the 2000s, I stalked the Maxwell blog right back to the beginning and just started saving pictures 💀 This is so far the only thing that’s made it into an actual game save, and you’ll be seeing a sim or two wearing this in different swatches in around a month since my queue is now below one month long. This dress is probably between the 8th and 10th attempt at making a basic frumper as this is what I started trying to make as I was trying to learn everything I could about making cc.

Basic short sleeved cheap looking dress (like I said, official names will come later 😂)

This your basic average amazon dress that fundies love ( a la bates sisters boutique style) I’m at that point where my instagram explore page thinks I’m a 14 year old Apostolic girl or a baptist mother of 8 looking to change my style, so I have a wealth of inspiration to choose from 😂 This is something I made and forgot about because I got excited about the exercise skirt almost working in game, meaning that this hasn't even made it into blender yet. 

Now we can move onto the formal stuff:

Ruffle mother of the bride/groom dress

This is my attempt on that blue ruffle dress that Kelly Jo Bates wore to Erin and Zach’s weddings. I initially tried to make it exactly like the dress she wore, but then I realised I was falling into the tendency of making things hard on myself unnecessarily 😂 This has made its way into CAS but there was some awkward clipping around the arms which I need to fix in blender, and will fix the textures before I can try and test it again.

Fishscale type dress 

Yup, you guessed it, this is my take on that dress. This made it into blender, but seeing the uv_0 layout made me go “eek” and distract myself with something else 💀 I’m probably going to go in and change the design, take some creative license and change the ‘fishscales’ around because there's only so much space in the uv map. 

Wedding Dress 1 aka the ‘Anna Marie’

I’ve highkey been calling this one the ‘Anna Marie’ in my folders because this wedding dress is directly inspired by hers (fyi: this link does take you directly to the Maxwell family blog, that web archive website is banned where I live and I’m not sure how to upload an archived link with my vpn on cause sometimes my laptop starts moving mad) This dress is one step away from being tested in game, and was so far the easiest dress to ‘design’ because there's literally nothing on it. I have been watching some more advanced texturing tutorials and want to try and make this look a bit better than it came out in my initial texturing attempts before I bring it I game to test.

Wedding Dress 2 aka the ‘Elissa’

This dress was inspired by Elissa Maxwell’s wedding dress, there's not many close up details of her dress so at some point I just got creative and probably the only thing I can really lend to her dress is the gathering on the side. The bolero came in as an idea after I had attempted doing these cute sleeves but was defeated after a while, so I changed things up so as not to frustrate myself 😂 This dress also has a bit more texturing needed before I can attempt to see how it looks in CAS, but I think I'll just see what happens with this one.

Wedding Dress 3 aka the EBP

In my head this dress was meant to resemble what Erin Bates Paine wore to her wedding, as in, a dress that is fine and would be considered modest (albeit a bit dated) but is chopped and skewed to make it EVEN MORE modest. The kind of changes that are obvious so the whole world knows you’re extra special and extra modest. This dress was an experiment as I played around and attempted to construct a corset back for this dress and the ruched tacked on sleeves, which turned out alright but it needs a bit of tweaking here and there, as well as an overhaul of the initial texture I'd tried out for this dress. In the notes app on my phone the initial look I was going for with this dress was “EBP overly frilly disaster” because that’s what I thought her wedding dress was like, but when I found pictures I decided I’d save the overly frilly disaster for when I was slightly better at the whole cc making thing.

Anyway, this is what I’ve got for now, I’ve got a swim dress thing next on my list which might be slightly easier to bring from start to finish? Not sure, at this point its hit and miss with how the weights transfer which affects the end result. I do have to say, seeing all these unfinished things laid out has sort of reinvigorated me to try and finish what I’ve already started before making something else, especially since a lot of them just require me to play around with the texture.