#Ive been wanting to make art for this au sooner

[grumpodoggo]

Art block be damned.

@rockthesham your au lives in my head rent free.

[lizaluvsthis]

WHAT IS PAL AU- HOW MANY AUS DO YOU HAVE CURRENTLY

PAL AU is a drafted universe that Ive created, I have never yet to complete the whole summary or the descriptions/infos about the stories since I'm on art doins.

PAL is a short name for the title of "Pour and Lit"

As expected there will be angst, fluff, romance, slowburn, betrayal, drama, wholesomeness, actually- lets also count fruitiness here :)

I only have three and four's design with this art I made

Basically it's a plot how Three works on with bad guys and deals with alot of stuff. Especially stealing (his role as a secret criminal highlights this)

He is a main character (tritagonist) and known as the famous Criminal around the whole state (with a mask on his face) (DO NOT. MAKE THIS A DREAM MEME DEAR GOD...)

Age: 28

He has a son named Elliot. (He'd been called with nicknames such as "egg" "chump" "eggy boi" "buddegg" "dora-pup") since three plays also the role being a good father to his son. Elliot is adopted.

(Its eggdog but in human- I get that it would be weird for you guys but I think I'm still on track matching his personality trait to the EGGDOG here.)

Elliot is about 9-10 years old in this universe, he's a soft and loving for animals and loves to hold guns. (Toy guns, SMG3 keeps him out of reach for the guns he used since he's not that prepared yet and plus he's too young)

He's pretty much interested with video games, daily activities such as playing outside, watching people use guns, wanting to be like his dad (three), dogs.

For SMG4 he plays the role as an Undercover Cop

He is a main character on a secondary pov who runs as a Protagonist

Age: 29

SMG4 is a nice and kind person once you get to know him, he does the opposite when he covers his identity as a cop. Optimism shows to his side whenever its playing a role as a civillain/single dad. Quite foolish for three from never buying the act.

Because he knows... that SMG4 is a cop behind that disguise he's giving out. SMG4 is tasked to work on daily night shifts around the place. While the place, also is where SMG3 lives is an apartment he could only afford. With SMG4 not knowing that three is actually the criminal they've been looking for.

He also plays of the role as a father to his adopted son named Bennet (who is also Beeg SMG4 who also matches with the personality of temper) he was an orphan when SMG4 met him during an investigation from the orphanage, seeing Bennet's hobbies of how SMG4 used to do back when he was the same age as Ben's made him want to give bennet a future-

Bennet is around 11-12 years old

----

If you're wondering where the other side characters like Mario or Meggy or OTHERS- they'll show up sooner...

-----

By the way- AUs :))

Theres

"Indigo Secret" AU

Brewing Romance AU

Pour and Lit AU

The Frog Prince AU

Gone AU

Blind!SMG4 BR AU

Ehhh seems about right :))

-

YA CANT BLAME ME- I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS ON MY HEAD AND I'M BURSTING IT ALL OUT ON A PIECE OF PAPER TO PUT THE WORK N ART-

[sparklingdemon]

hey hihi! ive been curious for a bit (and honestly. probably shouldve asked sooner) .. how do you feel abt ppl making their own adaptations/takes on your pokepasta ocs? do you enjoy it? are there certain ones that you prefer arent touched on like that?

its mostly curiosity but also i feel like its best to ask bc im one of the mods on a blog where leaf takes a LOT after fallen leaf but with a fair amount of deviation all the same and. i realized recently that despite u still being active and present online i never thought to inquire about that,, im so sorry njakljndnjk

hey hey it’s all good!! i think what you’re doing with missing numbers is really cool!! it always gets me really excited to see bits of fallen leaf in missing number’s leaf bc i’m just like “look gary there i am! there’s my story!!” i think combining fallen leaf’s story with abandon lonliness is INSPIRED, and it’s so so cool seeing fallen leaf be put in alongside the other more “classic” trainerpastas. it makes me happier than you’ll ever to know to see her get representation alongside all the others who have been there so much longer than her, bc it makes me feel like i wrote a story that fits right at home in the golden age of pokepasta.

that being said, i’m usually pretty chill with fan interpretations and reimaginings, or AUs that have my characters in them! “death of the author” is a real thing, and people are going to do whatever they want with my stories/characters regardless of if they realize i’m still an accessible person that can be asked permission or not - so i think it’s important for me to have a healthy/supportive outlook about it.

but… at the same time, i still don’t like it very much when people use their reimaginings to “fix” a story, to remove the “cliches” that made the story what it is.

for example, if you took BRVR out of pokemon channel and made the game take place in pokemon yellow instead, or removed the death/gore, then that’s not really BRVR anymore to me. by taking the “pokemon channel” out of “pokemon dead channel” or taking the “DEAD” out of pokemon dead channel, then you have essentially made a brand new story/character, but given it my character’s name.

so i think what i don’t like is when a reimagining comes from a place like that, where it doesn’t try to keep the spirit of the original story in mind and instead wants to “fix” it.

BUT, i should clarify how this is only a pet peeve of mine! i’m not going to tell people, “no, you’re not allowed to reimagine my story The Wrong Way™” - because ultimately i care more about people having fun with my stories and art in whatever way they want to, even if it’s something i don’t personally agree/vibe with.

of course that’s not what i think you’re doing w missing numbers at all!! i think it captures the heart of the OG stories very well, even when seen through an “in-universe” lens. i’m really really excited to see more from it!!

as for if there’s certain characters i’d rather not let anyone touch, i feel like the only one i have right now is cody, but only because their story is still ongoing and people still don’t fully know them as a character yet. it’s very easy to misinterpret a character from a story that’s still ongoing, after all!

but other than that, my answer is go wild!! do whatever you want with my pasta characters and i’ll generally be pretty hands-off about it! the only rule is have fun!!

[silvergolddraco28]

PS! Looking for RPers and/or co writers! Cross-posted on AO3!

Previously slightly abbreviated:

“This isn't my realm… this isn't my reality.”

“Lilith left sooner… but Charlie stayed until she became and adult.”

‘Better make my way to the Hazbin and see if i can't help this Charlie with her dreams sooner.’

Lucifer pocketed the phone, quickly getting out of the unstable building and making it for the nearest territory to get his bearings on which district he currently was in Pentagram before heading to Charlie's Happy Hotel before Alastor had renamed it the Hazbin Hotel.

()()()()

Lucifer gazed up at the building that was more or less falling apart with a minor internal cringe. ‘This place isn't fit for someone to live inside without coming too hard. I should know i enforced the building standards and have it all run by Hellborn companies for that very reason.’ Lucifer thought making his way up to the door of the hotel holding one of Charlie’s posters in his claws he had been able to snag from a lamppost being it got graffitied or ripped to shreds. He knocked on the door hearing a noise from inside before a frazzled-looking Charlie opened the door blinking her eyes at him in mild confusion. “I thought dragon dinners were extinct…” she muttered.

“Sinner?” Lucifer repeated giving the air he had literally entered Hell or at least this version of Hell.

Charlie had a look of sympathy as she pulled Lucifer inside closing the door behind her. “A Sinner is what we call a human soul that has died and didn't pass the judgment system Heaven has.” Charlie explained patiently. “Oh! How rude of me, I'm Charlie. I run this Hotel with the end goal of redeeming Sinners but for now it's more or less a Sanctuary for anyone who wants to get help.” Charlie introduced herself. She waved her hand over the lobby showing familiar faces. “The sinner in red is Alastor, our Hotelier. The female sinner in uniform is my girlfriend Vaggie and my personal guard. The spider sinner is our first resident, Angel Dust and finally the two flying goats are my assistants Razzle and Dazzle.” Charlie grinned as the two demonic goats sniffed the air around him before immediately pouncing him with hugs and kisses soon joined in by KeeKee.

His wings flapped a little to keep him upright from the unexpected force as he laughed at the ticklish kisses and cuddles. “Sorry… even in Life animals would snuggle and cuddle with me no matter what kind.” Lucifer stated after all he did technically die after he Fell from Heaven is it wasn't a complete lie.

“Geeze, don't think the two munchkins and the cat actually liked anyone but you Toots.” Angel’s familiar drawl stated as Lucifer rubbed the back of his head.

“yeah yeah make the Disney Princess reference in front of the dragon.” Lucifer huffed with a small pout as Charlie giggled at the interaction.

“Guess i should introduce myself as well.” Lucifer stated already knowing what he would use. “Samuel. Samuel Cain.” ‘Can't believe i have to use my old name and borrow Cain’s for this but i want to stay undercover as long as i can.’

Charlie grinned. “Is Sam fine?” Charlie asked.

“Sammy is better if you don't mind. I also see this place needs a lot of TLC.” Lucifer pointed out while trying to ignore the red eyes of the infernal Radio Demon partly glaring at him with suspicion. ‘Fuck off Bambi. I'm not letting you manipulate my daughter this time around and no way in Hell am i letting any version of myself being her down like i did.’ Lucifer thought to himself.

TBC…

EVENTUALLY…

one can hope…

Mini Rant to get out my feelings

Here is the rough part 2 that will hopefully help me get some interest in this AU or in any of my other prompts.

I'm starting to lose a lot of hope in getting anyone to RP with me more then a few days before going radio silent and bowing out.

I must be really really really bad for the entire community to basically avoid me.

[liauditore]

LIAU MY BELOVED

ask game question

Jimmy x Martyn

:D

romeo asking for mirror birds in MY ask box?!!?!??!?!?! (i know u pref mirror birds but solidwood is too funny im so sorry)

ah yeah. these losers.

see, a lot of my thoughts surrounding these two would kind of spoil my own AU that i never make stuff for so im usually somewhat hesitant to talk about them but basically., (toxic!fh mention)

post-evo divorced property police is so real. ive always imagined it as a childhood friends situation, with martyn being a bit older than jimmy.

they probably caught feelings for eachother fairly late and already well into teenhood but neither of them were really sure what it was (this is maybe going a little bit into sexuality hc territory but ive always imagined jimmy as whatever the male equivalent of a useless lesbian is and martyns biphobic towards himself lmao).

i touched on this briefly in that one fic i wrote but i've always headcanoned martyn as being somewhat parentified and thus ties his worthiness to be loved into his ability to perform acts of service for someone rather than just.. existing and letting himself be loved.

so as jimmy became more independent, martyn becomes a bit more insecure about their friendship. this becomes a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy as he distances himself from jimmy, feeling like jimmy wouldn't love him if he didn't Need him, and jimmy in return feels confused and hurt as he helplessly watches someone he knew all his life drift away.

that + jimmy has this not-so-subtle crush on scott that martyn's always suspected. he's a jealous bitch.

The storm formed after a final sip, my fingertips frozen solid, I pretend that again I can see, you past the rails, ready to meet And I wonder is it too much to ask, to once more, hold you warm in my hands? To accept I can’t forget, and embrace what still fails to fade?

Milk Tea (Oktavia's translyrics) (because I wasn't kidding when I said these two were cheesy yuri to me lmao)

we had a clown to clown communication moment i think cus I also love the idea of them splitting up and meeting in Third Life years and years later (altho i like to imagine it as more of a voluntary separation).

some stuff copy+pasted from that cursed shipping doc i mentioned awhile back: ((scott + jimmy became a thing while martyn was gone pre-3L))

Now reuniting in 3L as fully grown adults after years apart, all those suppressed emotions come bubbling back up to the surface. An adult Martyn is much less unsure about what he's feeling and Jimmy still has those fantasies of what could have been playing on loop in his head. Of course, Jimmy is still attached to Scott and can't abandon his Bethrothed. He loves and knows what's best for him, he would sooner die than forsake his loyalty. But it does hurt when he hits him. Martyn still cares for Jimmy deeply, whether he wants to or not. He takes the time to keep an eye out for him, even though they had no real reason to interact anymore. He becomes one of the only people to realise what Scott was like with him, how devoid of love it all was. He throws out a line, offers to help him run away. Jimmy refuses. Betrayal. A second time. For the same man. Who cares about Jimmy anyway? (he always did take me for granted)

(a little note here before anyone sets me on fire - time works a bit differently in my writing and the players don't have exact ages but jimmy and martyn's age gap is probably not as dramatic as their cc counterparts)

(it's still there but neither of them even recognise their feelings as remotely romantic until they reunite as adults, as kids it's all just them being silly and having grade school drama with each other)

So uh yeah lots of mutual pining and suppressed feelings and puppy love turned angst👍 tis all i shall say cus i wanna make art of the rest lol

Just a second to lessen the ache, or minute to kiss it away I’d give all I have for the chance to go back to youth and you

[licncourt]

ive been thinking about your modern au claudia for days.. do you have any crumbs about Her by any chance

Claudia my baby girl 🩷 I always have thoughts about her!!

Little Claudia is her parents' baby genius, partly because she has two uppity micromanagers for dads. She knows piano and violin, speaks perfect French, reads Latin and Greek, took classical voice training, art lessons, and ballet, and sees a tutor twice a week to make sure she gets straight A's through all her schooling.

She's not as much of theater geek as Lestat, but she takes pretty quickly to ballet. Claudia is a beautiful dancer, but she has her dads' competitive streak (times two) and is constantly on the edge of pushing her competition down the stairs. Though even if she did, Louis and Lestat wouldn't hear a single bad word about their baby anyway.

Despite the fact that she's a mini Lestat, Louis is Favorite Dad (and default parent). He's her book reader, Ken doll operator, snack maker, game player, and everything else. There is no rest for the wicked or for the Louis EXCEPT when it comes to her hair and outfits. Only Lestat is allowed to dress her and touch the curls.

Above all she's daddy's little girl and gets whatever she wants whenever she wants it. Her childhood bedroom is filled with princess dresses, dolls, jewelry, stuffed animals, blankets, and every shiny thing she ever saw. A pink pony that farts rainbows? Sure, why not. They'll do their best.

Starting at puberty, she gets a little boy crazy (emphasis on the crazy). She's the tiktok of the girl who threw dead birds at her crush's window when he was with anyone else. Lestat understands this intimately and helps her social media stalk her men when she's old enough.

She's kind of a bully until Louis makes her Be Nice (her one weakness is her papa's disappointment). She definitely gave some kid an eating disorder first though.

As a teenager she's a pageant girlie (Lestat would’ve had her in there way sooner but Louis put his foot down). This is the best possible outcome for Lestat and even when she's mad at him she has him do her hair just like when she was little. Louis doesn't love the whole thing but deep down he enjoys that everyone knows HIS daughter is the prettiest, smartest, and most talented.

She studies law in college and gets into an top university as Louis' nepo baby (she's a star anyway though). She becomes a very unscrupulous but well paid criminal defense lawyer. Louis is very proud.

The boy she ends up with is a sweet guy, golden retriever bf with his tiny, angry wife who tells the server he asked for no pickles. He gets along well enough with Loustat but tbh Claudia wouldn't give that much of a shit if he didn't. They're not the boss of her. No grandbabies either. Claudia didn't like kids even when she was a kid.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

👀 :3

doodle i am holding your shoulders. i am staring directly into your eyes. run away now i am going to talk about danny phantom at you.

i have. ELEVEN. YEARS. worth of danny phantom headcanons built up in my brain. canon is nothing to me i have written and rewritten the show like 4 times over. but also i love canon so it gets to stay. im just improving upon it. i allow myself to be pretentious about ONE (1) piece of media ever and it is danny phantom . so im the only person in the world who is correct about this. ok. shaking you.

do u want to know the backstory of nearly every ghost . what they were like when they were alive/how they died and how it relates to their role in the afterlife. I GOT YOU. do you want a full rundown of dannys powers and how they work. I GOT YOU AGAIN. DO YOU WANT. an ESSAY on the MYTHOLOGY of the ghost zone. do you want me to talk about the way the ghost zone royalty system works. because my god. ive got you.

trips and falls and like a bazillion sticky notes and pictures and papers spill out of my coat and scatter in the wind. oops sorry that was just my in depth analysis on Danny's relationship with nearly every character in the show. teehee <3

NOT TO MENTION popular fanon aus that live in my brain forever and i have my own versions of. i love you ghost king danny. i love you ghost hunger. hey can we talk about ghost hunger? i think the fact that i discovered ghost hunger the same year fall out boy released the young volcanoes music video did something irreparable to my brain. did you know i also like hannibal. these facts are completely unrelated.

FUCK torture fics FUCK dissection fics. fuck anyone who says the fentons are not good parents. the fentons are EXTREMLY good parents and i WILL die on this hill. every time someone in the modern dp fandom writes about how horrible the fentons are i lose like 3 years off of my life. how can you be so wrong. they are not evil they are not horrible they would not dissect their own son . i will die on this hill. im in the fucking trenches out here. someone recently posted a fic series (series!!!!) of oneshots specifically about jack fenton discovering dannys secret by accident and also being a good father and i swear to you i almost started crying on the spot. i havent even read the fic yet.

hmmmmm. what else is there. theres so much. i could go on about danny phantom.for so many hours. i havent actually read a glitch in time yet its been burning a hole on my nightstand because i KNOW as soon as i finish it we are going to be in 24/7 danny phantom lockdown for like a month and i want to do that when i have energy to make art. now that i have my new laptop this time may be sooner than you think. beware!

[swordmaid]

creator tag meme

tagged by the local angel @giuseppearcimboldo thank you so much lizzie!

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

VERY happy i can fill this out because i’ve been so productive this year lol. also this is all gonna be jb bc ive been RELENTLESS and spamming and i would apologize but i wont lmao 

1. jb eros/psyche au.

i am talking about everything i have done for the au btw, because i’ve done quite a handful of things and honestly i really love all of them--even the doodle ones which rarely happens. anyway, i love this au in general. i think the tale is perfect for them, and i’m happy with the works that i managed to put out most esp this one that’s based on canova’s sculpture of eros and psyche. translating sculpture into digital art was interesting since it was all about converting the weight and structure of the sculpture into the screen and i think i managed to do it imo! i love how brienne looks heavy in his arms, i love how strong jaime looks holding her up and i especially love the way i shaded her dress to mimic the lines that the statue has. all in all, this au slapped and i actually want to do more of it but i have no inspiration right now. 

2. jb as classical art series. 

honestly i never thought that this was going to be a series lol i thought it was just a two time thing, but then i did another one, and then another one, and then another one and now here we are. i love all the pieces that i’ve done for it actually. my favourite thing is that they’re all not direct translations of the original art. there are some aspects that i’ve taken and adapted while also putting my own flair into it. i love the reverse colour scheme with klimt’s kiss and my own rendition of it. the gold being the accent highlight in a field of murky brown/black whereas klimt has the black squares present to emphasis the richness of the gold and yellows. i also like the little thing i did where i put the geometric shapes outside of the subject instead of inside (what he did). i put on the tags that i didnt like how it turned out but i actually like it lol i just didn’t like how long it took me i get too impatient with my art i think. anyway. i love this whole series sm i think all the pieces have their own character, and tbh i always get nervous adding another piece into this just because all the ones that i’ve done has been so well received i don’t want to be a disappointment lool. regardless, i love classical art and i love jb and i love being able to put the two together hehe we love to be self indulgent

3. la belle fleur sauvage commission. 

aka THIS commission that was based from SD’s fic, la belle fleur sauvage. some behind the scenes with that one--that one took me SO long to do, like it was taking longer than i had wanted and i felt very bad and i am forever thankful for sd’s patience 😭😭😭. i really can’t be too mad though since i was working on the third year of my degree, but i still would’ve wanted to finish it sooner than i did. but as for the art itself---i actually love it lol. i always say to zoom in on my stuff to see all the details but i WISH folks would zoom in on that because it’s so big and so intricate. i love how everything turned out; i love how rich the colours are, i love the composition for all three panels, i love how the SKY looked like actually that’s the first time i sat down and painted clouds with that technique and i am so happy and pleased with how it looked im using it for everything LOL, i love jaime’s outfit in the 2nd panel---i actually designed a whole outfit for that and he DOES have his pouches and daggers, etc. stuff that he would have with him if he was a mercenary, but because of the cropping, those details were taken out but it’s THERE. i love the colours and the shading on the 3rd panel. it looks so soft and romantic and it’s everything 😭😭. honestly i didnt know if i was able to finish whole three panels just because of how big the project seemed, but tbqh this piece really pushed me as an artist and im really happy that i had the chance to work on it (-’: 

4. early morning.

this one is a more recent piece and i was thinking post canon jaime/brienne married and either living in casterly rock or evenfall hall. originally the sheets were gonna be red with the gold brocade but i just made it green to make their location more ambiguous. they’re in a castle because of the finery, but which castle i have no idea. anyway i love their faces here in particular--jaime because it’s not often that i draw him old (this is the second time i drew old jaime i think?) and i love how he turned out here. i love how he looks like a silver fox and a dilf and we really do love that for brienne. full disclosure, i have no idea how to draw older folks since i don’t have a lot of practice in that area so im glad my lack of experience doesn’t show lmao. i also love how soft brienne looks here! the little smile on her lips is very sweet, her body language and how relax she seems is very telling abt her confidence in this scene also i think i drew her hands hella well haha. all in all i think it’s a really sweet art! and the full version is not so bad either jaime’s ass was referenced from marble sculptures so you know im aiming for Quality. but i love this headcanon of a younger brienne tiring jaime out, i’ve read a handful fics about it and im happy i can do my own version of it hehe 

5. unravel.

wow we love domesticity. someone said that if you compile all my ns*w art of them together it’s like they haven’t left their bed ever since they got together and you know what? love that for them it’s what they deserve. anyway i chose this one because of how sensual and simple it is. their body language really does all the talking ; jaime’s hand pulling on the ties on her shift, her hand on his hair, how soft and lazy their kiss looks--it’s enough to tell the story me thinks! i just love how simple this whole thing is but it’s very effective. there’s really not much to it besides what you see but that’s really enough.

i am actually very proud of myself with how productive i’ve been. it’s really not often that i get as much drive and energy to post so much art. iirc my art tag is nearly 200 content already (i think it’s 180 ish rn?) and honestly that’s a LOT if you told me ill be making more than 100+ content for jb i would’ve been like nah im too lazy for that lmao. but im really proud of myself this year! i think i pushed myself as an artist and i’ve familiarized myself more with my strengths as well as my weaknesses. i have a clear idea on the areas that i need to work on, and i’ve really gotten more comfortable with being happy with my own pieces and i’m trying not to put myself down more if something doesn’t go the way i want it to. also, i’ve had the opportunity to work with more people this year--so for the people who has commissioned me or IS commissioning me rn--- thank you so much for trusting me with your visions 😭😭 ive never expected to get this kind of reception with my art but i am very grateful for all of it. 

anyway as for the tagging i tag -- @na-bruma-leve / @dreadwulf / @dilfjaime / @fawnilu BUT i would highly recommend you to come along and snatch this tag meme up like a little raccoon because we all should start being proud of our own works imo !!

[pandemskinny]

sorry im posting so much tonight but i wanted to make a list of things that distract me from my ed (or keep me away from munch munch) sorry lmao:

♡ watch BBC dracula. its all on netflix, if you don't have it then if ur from the uk, its on bbc iplayer (its free) my mother thinks hes vv sexy. 3 X 1.5hour episodes :)

♡re watch ur favourite films or anime or tv shows, personally i like Skins, Shameless, This country, The office UK, RPDR, tokyo ghoul, pulp fiction, kill bill, sherlock etc

♡youtube: im gonna post vids when i can so i will have a channel its pandemskinny (tw ed) but i like to watch supersize vs superskinny and ALR and Foodie beauty (idk its addictive man) sometimes my 600lb life but i find it really upsetting to the point where i cant watch anymore. I also watch Korean diet girls living their best life.

♡i read. Here are my must reads. Good Omens. Life Of Pi. The Colour Purple. Pride And Prejudice. Frankenstein. Anne Of Green Gables. Tess Of The d'Urbervilles. If you like erotic books the best ones I've read are by Sarah Waters bc i am GaY. Would 100% recommend tipping the velvet.

♡play animal crossing or a Nintendo game that you have. Ive been playing professor layton speed runs bc im that bitch. I also have pokemon black <3 i do still have to complete tLoZ majora's mask bc im weak and its the only zelda one left to complete.

♡read fanfiction. Doesn't have to be smutty. Its free, can be supportive to authors. I like time travel au's because i often wonder what would happen if i met 21 year old john lennon. Sigh.

♡i don't have it but somehow end up watching the yt video comps of lesbian tiktoks. The cringe tiktoks r what keeps my self esteem in check also. So learn a tiktok dance or stare at pretty lesbians with big glasses and curly hair.

♡you can find free films to watch. If you like Melanie Martinez than watch k-12. me and my mother both love the highschool sweethearts part because WoAh,,

♡if you like music (who doesn't) try dancing to it or even meditating? I like to imagine im in the centre of a mosh pit or performing on stage.

♡talk to me, look at my blog, use this app in general or any app u feel comfortable on.

♡skincare- ive improved my own skin alot of recent. I recommend watching hyram? On yt- definitely helped mine.

♡sign the petitions for the black lives matter movement. My mum told me her biggest achievement recently is distinguishing a lampost from a trafficlight out of a set of squares. She also drags the fuck out of racists on fb. Ah good ol' mum.

♡collegework, homework, housework, schoolwork, your sibling/childs homework. One that I'll have to face sooner or later

♡if you have a younger child in the family, they really occupy ur time (i have a 2 1/2 yo brother) i like to spend time with him, so many stories to tell about pepper pig, helicopters, and our dog. His favourite thing is holding his hand up to his ear and pretending to call grandmother and he'll tell her the most random things.

♡one of my favourites- thrift shopping/shopping in charity shops. I got 10 books for a quid once or $1.25, not only that but as a fan of old music, art etc i pick up antique vinals and things pretty often. I have a friend who buys similar tshirts to me but gets them for less than half the price in charity shops/thrift stores. And i think that homeless person jeans + good accessories + simple crop/tight top = perfection.

Anyway i hope this post distracted you and or helped you in anyway im vv sorry for boring u ahh

[palettepainter]

(IMPORTANT UPDATES) Look back at 2019

Big changes for 2020! Hey there everyone! 2019 has come and gone, another year passed and a new chance for me to try and improve myself when the new year starts! As far as I know me and my family don’t have plans to celebrate New Years other then of course spending time together, but I want to post this now just so that it’s out of the way it’s posted and I won’t have to worry about. If I can be honest, 2019 towards the last few months of the year has been a real punch in the face..multiple punches. I’ve broken off connections with people who treated me wrongly in the past, had random breakdowns at school (don’t worry they weren’t seriously bad), had trouble with siblings - it’s been overall, a very up and down year for me, but sadly towards the end and in the running up to Christmas, it was mostly down. But hey, 2020 means the start of a new year and a new chance to grow stronger as a person and an artist!..Seriously though 2020, please be kind to me- As you can probably from what’s in the title, there are going to be a few big changes to my characters and stories going into 2020. I’ve been thinking about this stuff a lot ever since mid August, it’s been something I’ve mentioned to one or two people, but ultimately I had to make the choice. And now with 2019 gone and done and 2020 being the opportunity to start fresh, I think it’s a good time to make these announcements. I understand that this may upset a few of you and yes it is going to make things a bit confusing for my NGAU, but this is my choice and I’m confident that making this choice will lead to me being much more happier with what I make. 🔸I will not be continuing my Zoophobia: Next Generation book series To anyone new who doesn’t know what I mean, Zoophobia: Next Generation was a book series I started back in December 2018, which included my own NG’s and one or two OC’s from the fandoms Zoophobia and Hazbin Hotel. Since the first book the series has since gained a lot of attention on Wattpad, and believe me when I say that I am truly grateful for how much positive attention the series got! It was my first time ever writing something on my own and it felt really special to know so many of you liked what I was doing! But as the series went on, I slowly began to loose my drive to continue writing. This is something I’ve admitted to close friends, but now that I’m older and I’m more aware of errors in writing and certain ways in which writing can be written to be better, I realise that the series isn’t up to my current standards. The story itself isn’t one that I’m proud of, and as my first book series, I feel like I was biting off more then I could chew when I first started writing this series. Ive realised that the story line I had in mind would be too hard to work into both Zoophobia and Hazbin Hotel without me having to make very big changes to either of those fandoms current stories and/or certain characters personalities, and though yes it is my own AU so if I wanted I could change the characters to fit better with my story, but honestly, I don’t want to change the characters. The characters from Zoophobia and HH I absolutely adore and there isn’t much I want changed about them, so I don’t want to alter the characters drastically to the point where they become an entirely different character. The main drive of the story with the main characters didn’t pick up till around the second book, and when I first started writing, the story line wasn’t even finished, I was just going with the flow and linking one thing to the other, hoping people would like it just as much as I did at the time. And lastly, this is probably the biggest reason why I’m no longer going to be continuing the series, but the first couple of chapters of the first book where too heavily inspired by another book series: I don’t want to continue to create something, when I feel as if it’s been too heavily based around someone else’s work. I want to create my own stuff and I feel as though the first book just isn’t that, it’s not my own work, and that’s leaded to me viewing the first book as my least favourite. This means that from now going forward, any events that took place in the book series is now no longer cannon. Some headcannons will be changed and altered due to this, for one Eve’s Headcannon will be changing as she will now most likely be alive in my NGAU now, so the stories I had planned for her such and the stories I already posted are no longer cannon either: I will say also that this also counts for my Eve X Hatchet NG Diego, he will remain cannon and will most likely be alive also. As for the characters that where involved in the books such as Lucy, Maggot and Bumbuss, I’ll figure out what to do with them. I defiantly want to keep Lucy as she was the very first OC I ever made for the Zoophobia fandom that wasn’t a NG, but I’m unsure on what to do with Maggot and Bumbuss. As much as I now don’t enjoy the series, it was fun to write while it lasted, and I cannot stress enough how grateful I am too everyone who ever read, liked, or commented on the series! But from now on, I won’t be returning to the series. I held off on announcing this and the reason it took me so long to decide this was because I didn’t want to leave you guys without a conclusion to the story, the series was only one book away from completion and I didn’t want to cut off the series so close to it being finished. But again, the book series isn’t something I enjoy anymore, so I hope all of you can understand and will hopefully look forward to the further projects I have planned 🔸New books to come Though my main book series will now be ending, I have a lot of ideas for new book series. Since the second and third book I had been having ideas for stories that could take place after the series, and the reason I kept doing the series for as long as I did was because I really wanted to start work on the stories that would take place after the series was finished. One of my goals for the new year is to try and push out more stories and book series for you guys, I feel like I’ve defiantly been lacking in the story department, mostly because I couldn’t find any ideas for illustrations to go with the story, and because I always felt too tired to ever finish any stories or illustrations. None of these story ideas yet have fully scripted out story lines, so far they’re just ideas and until I can get a script done for them, I won’t be starting work on them. I want these books to be as great and they can be, and not only do I want to make something that I can be proud of, but something that you guys will enjoy as much as I do. These ideas are in no particular order, and I haven’t decided if I’ll defiantly be doing all of these just yet, but here are some ideas I’ve had for books/book series for the future: -A book with my NG Box explaining her past before she came to live with Ribbon -A book with my OC Willem and how he discovers another hybrid like himself -Nidra’s story as she grows up to accept a new family, while letting a beloved friend go to persue their own life -Junior reapers: a story/series of stories involving Lotus, Charcoal, Parfait and Rae as they go on a quest to become junior reapers Maybe a MHA + Dragonous story *Dragonous is a Villainous dragon AU created by shabiest (Instagram), I will need to get permission from them if I want to write a book with this AU* Recently I got into My Hero Academia, and you can all blame that on my cousin When I first saw the series I kinda rolled my eyes at it, I’ve never really been a big anime fan the style never grabbed me when I was younger: and all I can say is that I should defiantly have given the series a try sooner MHA is a series I’ve come too really enjoy and love, I love the characters the story the dialogue, everything about this show! I’ve said this before but what I love about the show is how it’s great at showing us a large range of characters without straying too far from the main plot, and how this show makes me feel: there have been times where this show has had me emotionally frustrated, sad and happy, and if a show or a movie can make me feel a powerful emotion (angry sad or other), then I’m down for it. I’ve since made a few OC’s for the fandom, and I’ve been thinking about making a book about it. It’s not scripted out yet, and some of my ideas play into some events in season 4 - but if you guys enjoy MHA and you enjoy my OC’s, please let me know your thoughts! And Dragonous, a Villanious AU I’ve come to adore! I’ve always been a big fan of dragons, they where my favourite mythical creature growing up! (And still are to this day), with the creators permission I’d like to create a book with the few OC’s I’ve made, this one may not happen because again I need permission, but tell me your thoughts! Merch Again, something I’ve mentioned before, and something I’ve been really wanting to do! Me and my dad have made a shirt design with one of my OC’s, so far it’s only black and white (we’ve decided to go simple black and white since it’s my first time making merch), and hopefully if all goes well we can start to make more colourful merch However this all depends on you guys: I may be opening up commissions in the future, though I can’t say when, but this will depend on you: I have a PayPal and a KoFi if you guys wish to support me and my work (no pressure though!), every little bit counts and it would mean so much to me if you guys would consider supporting me and my work, even if it’s something as small as a pound! 🔸Collabs/art trades/design trades/RP’s There’s nothing really big to say about these things, but I have decided that from now on that I will only do these kinds of things with close friends.

Finally, I want to say a big BIG thank you to everyone who has stuck around on this crazy train ride to support me. This year as I said at the beginning, has not been the best for me towards the end, and I am so grateful to all the support you guys gave me. I know that I'm not very good with replying to comments/messages, and I'm so sorry if I never got round to replying to your message or comment, but I do read the comments, I do see the wonderful things you guys say, and it's absolutely delightful to see the nice things you guys say!  I want to give a big big BIG thank you to these wonderful people who have been there for me, whether it was to geek out over a show to if they where there for me when I needed support: @hazbinextgeneration​   - You've been an amazing pal right from the beginning, you where one of the very first people I met when I first got into the Zoophobia and HH fandom and you've been an absolute gem! You've been there for me when I was down and you've listened through out all of my nerd outs about characters and shows, and to have someone listen to me meant so much! You comment on nearly every piece of my work and you're always so kind and giving! Not only to me but to so many others! You've made me a lot and fanart and I'm sorry I don't nearly do enough for you in return, going into 2020, I want to change that!  @cosmic-artzz​   - If you hadn't been there to listen to me and help me out, I honestly don't know what kind of situation I would be in now. You helped me cut off ties with people I honestly wasn't happy talking with, and despite being dragged into my drama over and over again, you where still there to listen to both sides of the argument and give advice on how I could make things better. You've always been a delight to talk to and I'm so happy we had the chance to become friends! I'm so sorry you get dragged into my troubles as much as you did dude! Going into 2020, I promise you I'll be more confident in putting my foot down when I feel as though I'm not being treated fairly! And lastly, I want to thank all of you! For sticking with me on this crazy journey! Here's to 2020 and hoping its a wonderful year!!

[kjack89]

The Liberator, Vol III: Hero of Sacrifice

Well, it’s only been two and a half years since I wrote Vol II of this AU. #mybad

There will be a Volume IV because I promised a happy ending and I’ll be damned if, some three years later, I disappoint anyone, though I endeavor to have the fourth part done sooner than two and half years from now.

ExR, modern, superhero AU, developing relationship.

Read Vol I here and Vol II here.

Before Grantaire could even open his eyes, he knew something was wrong.

It wasn’t the fact that his entire body felt like he’d been run over by a semi-truck, or that he had bruises in places he generally wasn’t sure it was possible to be bruised. It wasn’t even the dull throb that he knew from too many close calls came from a gunshot wound.

It was the fact that he could hear yelling echoing through the halls of his normally silent base of operations.

Which could only mean that, in addition to bringing him back here, Combeferre had brought Enjolras back as well. And Grantaire wasn’t entirely sure that he was ready to face him. Or the secret he’d never intended on Enjolras learning.

With a groan, he pulled himself into a sitting position, making as if to run his fingers through his hair and wincing at the flash of pain when he tried to move. “Fuck,” he hissed, debating if he wanted to try getting up or just texting Combeferre begging him to bring coffee. And alcohol. And probably some percocet.

He was saved from having to make even that tiny movement by Combeferre appearing in his doorway, coffee in hand and a particularly harried look on his face. “Good, you’re up,” he said curtly. “Enjolras wants to talk to you.”

Grantaire groaned again. “Dare I ask why you brought him back here?” he managed, reaching up to accept the mug of coffee.

“He saw your face,” Combeferre said shortly, as if it was an answer.

And in some ways, it was, but it wasn’t the answer Grantaire wanted to hear.

“And if I don’t want to talk to him?” Grantaire asked instead.

Combeferre sighed. “You owe him a conversation, at the very least,” he said, sounding as tired as Grantaire felt. “Whatever explanation you want to give — if any — is entirely up to you beyond that.”

Grantaire made a face before draining the rest of the coffee in one long gulp. He ran a hand over his face and debated whether he felt human enough for the conversation that awaited him. “Fine,” he said. “But I can’t promise Enjolras is going to like what I have to say.”

Combeferre cracked a smile. “Of that certainty, I was never in doubt.” His brow furrowed as he gave Grantaire a once over. “When you’re doing talking to Enjolras, I want to check the stitches on that GSW. You took it an odd angle and I want to make sure the stitches are holding.”

“I’m pretty sure the lack of blood gushing down my leg is probably as good an indication as anything,” Grantaire grumbled. “But fine.”

He stood with another groan, stretching cautiously and wincing as every movement sent twinges of pain through his body. But it was nothing he couldn’t handle, or nothing he hadn’t handled before, at the very least, and after a long moment, he nodded decisively. “Right,” he said. “Better go face the firing squad.”

He didn’t wait for Combeferre’s response, padding barefoot down the hallway towards the kitchen the second cup of coffee he needed to face both the day and an irate Enjolras. He realized belatedly that Combeferre must’ve changed him out of his suit, and he paused in his step, blushing a mottled shade of red at the thought of Enjolras seeing him stripped down to practically nothing.

Then again, that also gave him the tantalizing thought of Enjolras perched next to his bed while Combeferre did his level best to sew his bullet wound back together without having to call Joly in as backup.

Would Enjolras have been stoic, watching it? Or had he, maybe, though Grantaire could barely imagine it, grasped Grantaire’s hand, held it tightly even though the other man was unconscious and past feeling the pain?

Well, at the very least, that thought was going to keep him up at night.

Grantaire wasn’t surprised to see Enjolras in the kitchen, mug of coffee in front of him, and he ignored the sharp way that Enjolras looked up at him, instead heading directly to the coffeepot and pouring himself a second cup. 

Only after he had drained half of it did he finally turn around to meet Enjolras’s eyes. “Morning,” he said, with somewhat false cheer.

Enjolras didn’t smile. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Not if I could get away with not,” Grantaire answered honestly. Enjolras recoiled, something like hurt flashing across his face before being replaced by steely resolve, and Grantaire sighed. “C’mon,” he said, jerking his head away from the kitchen. “Let’s take this elsewhere.”

He led Enjolras to main room, ignoring the images flashing across the screen of Combeferre’s computer and instead sinking down on the couch, letting out a sigh of relief as he did. Enjolras glanced around, cradling his mug of coffee in both hands. “You know, I expected more for a secret lair,” he said after a long moment.

Grantaire snorted. “Yeah, well, not all of us have trust funds to pay for swanky digs. Besides, the place is rent-controlled and the landlord didn’t seem care about the, uh, modifications I needed to do in order to make the place functional.”

“If you don’t have a trust fund, how do you pay for your equipment?” Enjolras asked mildly, picking Grantaire’s grappling hook gun off Combeferre’s desk and looking at it with a critical eye.

“Military contracts, and will you put that down before you hurt yourself?”

Enjolras scowled but nonetheless set it down before moving to sit across from Grantaire. “Now can I ask you what I really want to know?”

“You can ask,” Grantaire said, after a long moment. “But I reserve the right to not answer.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Self-incrimination and the fact that I don’t have my attorney present, for starters,” Grantaire said evenly. “The fact that there are some secrets even you don’t need to know, for another.”

For a moment, it looked like Enjolras wanted to press the issue further, but then he shook his head before taking a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Grantaire took a sip of coffee. “Is that honestly your number one concern?” he asked mildly. “Not my tragic backstory or why I’m doing this?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I already know why you’re doing this,” he said impatiently. “You care about justice, and—”

Grantaire snorted. “Justice?” he repeated, incredulous. “Enjolras, this is me we’re talking about, not you. In what world do I give enough of a fuck about justice to do all this?”

“And here I thought we were talking about the Liberator,” Enjolras shot back.

“Sure,” Grantaire said tiredly. “That too.”

Enjolras glared at him. “Fine,” he said, biting off the word. “Then why are you doing this?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Enjolras looked exasperated. “Of course I want to—”

“No, I mean it,” Grantaire interrupted, struggling to keep his expression and his tone as neutral as possible. “Do you really, truly want to know? Even if the answer isn’t what you want to hear?” Enjolras stared at him, and Grantaire added, a little desperately, “Even if the answer changes how you feel about the Liberator?”

“Grantaire—”

Enjolras broke off, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long moment, he jerked a nod. “Yes,” he said. “I really want to know.”

Grantaire jerked his head in a nod and stared down into his coffee mug, now wishing he was drinking something stronger. “My dad used to beat me,” he said abruptly. “Well, he mainly beat my mom, but that’s just because I don’t think he ever thought I was important enough to merit a beating.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras offered, a little tentatively, but Grantaire waved him off.

“It was a long time ago,” he said dismissively. “But once I started school, it wasn’t just my dad — the kids there used to beat me up, too, so my mom did the only thing she could and enrolled me in every martial arts class she could.” He shrugged. “The kids at school learned their lesson, but my dad—”

He broke off, his expression twisting. “He was a CPA by day and book cooker for the mob by night, and to top it off, he was a mean drunk with a meaner right hook. And one day, when he hit me, I hit back.”

A beat of silence, then—

“He died four days later. He never woke up from the coma I put him in.”

Enjolras was staring at him, but Grantaire couldn’t bring himself to look at him, couldn’t bring himself to see the expression on his face, the disappointment, or the fear, or—

“My mom and I lied to the police about one happened, said he’d gotten in a drunk driving accident. His BAC was twice the legal limit when we got him to the hospital so it’s not like the cops asked a lot of questions.” Grantaire’s voice turned bitter, and he had to swallow against the bile that rose in the back of his throat. “But for weeks after, I lay awake at nighttime wondering if this made me a murderer.”

“It didn’t,” Enjolras said fiercely, and now Grantaire did glance up, unsurprised if a little gratified at the fury radiating from Enjolras. “It doesn’t. It was self-defense.”

Grantaire shrugged again. “Maybe,” he said, as if he didn’t quite believe it. “But that didn’t stop me from wondering if I would wind up killing someone again.”

Enjolras didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and Grantaire took a deep breath before continuing, “Then I went off to college, and I met you, and Les Amis. And when I learned about all your plans to change things without violence — I mean, I don’t really care about the whole change part, but the nonviolence part — I wanted to believe that.”

He sighed heavily and shook his head, something between a smile and a grimace twisting his lips. “And maybe I would’ve even managed it, if it weren’t for one day…”

Grantaire trailed off, and Enjolras leaned forward, just slightly. “One day what?” he asked softly.

“One day, you were attacked.” Enjolras blinked, surprise and something like confusion mingled in his expression. “You were still in law school, clerkin for one of the more liberal judges, and someone attacked you outside the courthouse with a knife.”

“I remember,” Enjolras said, his voice low. “But I didn’t think you would. I was barely scratched.”

“How could I not remember?” Grantaire whispered, trying not to sound as pained as he felt, his heart beating a painful rhythm in his chest as much at the memory as it had that day all those years ago. “I tossed and turned for weeks thinking about you being attacked. Trying to think of ways to keep you safe.”

Enjolras shook his head. “But—”

“I swear to God, Enjolras, if you ask why, you’re stupider than anyone has ever given you credit for.” Enjolras closed his mouth and managed a glare that Grantaire mostly ignored. “I had to keep you safe, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t do it myself in broad daylight, you’d never let me—” Enjolras made a small noise of what might have been protest but Grantaire again ignored him. “—so I had to come up with some kind of secret identity. And so the Liberator was born to keep you safe from the perps you couldn’t keep behind bars, the ones who would have no hesitation killing you.”

Grantaire shrugged as if his simple shrug could diminish everything he’d done over the past few years. “I got the only person I knew cared as much about your safety as I did to help with the tech, and it was Combeferre’s idea to arrange for some military contracts to pay the start up cash and then — well, you know the rest.”

He finished a bit lamely and busied himself with draining the rest of his coffee, again not wanting to look at Enjolras’s face for fear of what he might see there. “So you did all of this — for me?” Enjolras asked slowly.

Grantaire shrugged again. “Well, uh, it started that way, at least,” he muttered. “Then it sort of turned into trying to protect the whole damn city.”

“Why?”

“Because you love this city,” Grantaire said simply. “And if you’re willing to fight to keep it safe, how could I not?”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Enjolras had crossed to him, leaning down and kissing him, something just as fierce as was in his tone earlier coming through in the kiss. For one long moment, Grantaire kissed him back, holding onto him with a desperate grip, unwilling or unable to end the moment too soon.

Then he pulled away. “Enjolras, stop,” he ordered softly.

“What—” Enjolras started, and Grantaire shook his head.

“I can’t be who you want me to be,” he said, echoing the words he had said to Enjolras once before, every word hurting more than the bullet wound he’d taken the night before.

Enjolras frowned slightly. “What are you talking about?” he asked, somewhat impatiently. “You’re exactly who I’ve always thought you were—”

“Oh yeah?” Grantaire scoffed. “And who is that, exactly? Because last time I checked, you thought I was a useless waste of space.”

Enjolras’s eyes flashed. “I’ve never once said that,” he said, his voice low.

“Maybe not, but it doesn’t change the fact that prior to knowing I was a masked vigilante, you thought I was good for nothing.” Enjolras recoiled but said nothing in response to that, and Grantaire barked a dry, humorless laugh. “Exactly my point.”

“Fine, but I know better now, and I’m allowed to take recently discovered exculpatory evidence into account,” Enjolras shot back.

Grantaire snorted. “Didn’t realize this was suddenly a trial, Counselor.”

“Well, if it is, you’re the one trying your damnedest to condemn yourself.”

Grantaire threw his hands up in frustration. “Because I am condemned!” he half-shouted. “Have you not been paying attention, Enjolras? I’m a murderer!”

“It’s not murder,” Enjolras said firmly. “It’s justice.”

Grantaire bit back the hysterical laughter he could feel bubbling in his chest. “That’s a helluva position to take as someone who’s spent his entire career arguing against the death penalty.” He ran a tired hand across his face, all the fight seeping out of him and just leaving him feeling exhausted and defeated. “I’ve annointed myself judge, jury, and executioner. Who gave me that right?”

Enjolras shook his head. “When the system is broken, what other choice is there?” he demanded.

“Fixing the system instead of tearing it down, for starters,” Grantaire returned evenly.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “And if no one will fix the system?”

“That’s why the city needs you, Enjolras,” Grantaire told him softly. “They need someone who understands the system and its brokenness, someone who knows what needs to be done and is willing to do everything to fix it.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do?”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow at him. “Well at least recently, you’ve been pretty content to let criminals walk and face the Liberator instead of facing justice.” Enjolras shook his head but Grantaire didn’t let him interrupt. “You are losing the parts of you that I believe in most, and I can’t just watch that happen.”

“What are you saying?” Enjolras asked quietly.

“I’m saying…” Grantaire trailed off, closing his eyes for a brief moment and swallowing hard before continuing. “I’m saying that I always thought there would be a day, when the city no longer needed the Liberator, and maybe then, you and I—”

He broke off as if he couldn’t quite bear to actually say the words, couldn’t bear to admit to a dream that he knew in his heart could never be. “And what, you think the city will always need the Liberator?” Enjolras asked.

“No.” Grantaire met his glare evenly. “My fear is that if you keep going down this path, you will always need the Liberator.”

Enjolras shook his head. “Grantaire—”

“Go home, Enjolras,” Grantaire ordered.

“But—”

“Go home,” Grantaire repeated. “I have work to do.”

For a moment, it looked like Enjolras might argue further, but then his expression hardened and he turned, storming away back down the hallway toward the kitchen and Combeferre.

Grantaire closed his eyes for a brief moment, struggling against the tears he could feel pricking in the corners of his eyes. “Ow,” he whispered, rubbing the bullet wound in his thigh, but the pain he felt had absolutely nothing to do with his battle wounds, and everything to do with the work he had to do, and the work he feared now more than ever would never be done.

The Liberator will return in Vol IV: A Heroic Resolve

[spartanguard]

sick of love (3/3)

Summary: If Emma’s not careful, she just might bump into her soulmate. Physically. And while she might like the idea of what comes with that—an almost psychic connection whenever they make skin contact—she’d rather not deal with the awful withdrawal sickness that can come when they inevitably leave her; she’s got a son, so she doesn’t have time for that. So she keeps herself covered and thinks she’ll be okay. Until she meets Killian, who does the same thing. Will their barriers protect them, or just hurt them more?

CS Soulmates AU | Rated M | 10.6k | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | AO3

A/N: LAST CHAPTER AH. I meant to have this done sooner, but I didn’t get much writing done at camp—so here we are on Friday! It ended up much longer than anticipated, but this is where it earns the M rating. I hope this was worth the wait, and thank you for sticking with it!

As stated before, this story was inspired by this tumblr post. Thank you again to the organizers of @cssns for putting on this awesome event and to @sherlockianwhovian for making that AMAZING art up there!

Wrong.

So fucking wrong.

More wrong than any other time in her life. 

That first night after the collision on the train, she got drunk on Sam Adams and blamed that on why the barrage of text messages from Killian mysteriously disappeared from her phone.

By Thursday, Henry had asked why they hadn’t yet had dinner with Killian that week. “Because you have school now, mister,” worked as an excuse.

And thankfully, she managed to hide her sigh of relief when Killian wasn’t at dinner at the Nolans, supposedly because he was called into work.

Halfway through the next week, Henry asked if they had a fight or something. “Yeah, or something,” was her lame, mumbled response. “It’s an adult thing.”

That was enough to get him to stop asking questions, though he had plenty of comments after the following Friday’s dinner—she decided that would be the best time to track her latest skip and dropped Henry off to stay with Snow and Dave for the night, and her resolve hardened when she saw the Chevelle in the driveway.

“You know, Killian seemed kind of mopey,” Henry told her when she picked him up the next morning. “Kind of like he did when we first met him.”

“He just gets like that sometimes; maybe it was something at work.”

“Maybe; I dunno. It seemed different. He says hi, though.”

He’d said more than that in the texts she kept deleting. Though those were usually something along the lines of Please, Swan—just talk to me.

What she wouldn’t admit was how much those broke her heart.

She wanted to; she really did. She missed him, dammit. But that would mean acknowledging whatever had passed between them as something real, that the whole idea actually had merit, and she wasn’t ready for that level of anything yet. She wasn’t even ready to kiss him, for fuck’s sake; even the title “boyfriend” held more weight than she was ready to carry.

And part of her still was in denial, sure that she’d imagined it because of that little romantic part of her that wanted something more.

She’d learned long ago to ignore that small voice, and she could shut it up again.

She didn’t do soulmates.

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

A couple more weeks went by and fall arrived—her favorite. She wrapped up in a scarf on that first day, inhaling the chill in the air and making sure to stop for a pumpkin spice latte. Part of her wondered what kind of scarf Killian was wearing, if he even had one on—and then the rest of her put that idea to rest. 

His texts became more sporadic; she never saw him on the train. He hadn’t been at Snow and David’s the last couple weeks and apparently had been stuck on the night shift for the last month. She was getting better at not thinking about him, but her mind generally wandered in his direction without her realizing it had.

There was a near run-in a week ago at the Chinese place; she saw his name on the receipt of the bag next to hers, and never paid so quick in her life. But otherwise, she’d been Killian-free for a month and was feeling just fine.

See? Nothing to worry about, she assured herself. Maybe in a couple more weeks, she could seek him out again, apologize, and they could carry on like that scare never happened.

But that thought got delayed when she came down with a cold a few days later.

She had a headache that wouldn’t go away and was tired a lot more than usual. The kitchen lights seemed especially harsh and there was a lingering bit of nausea that never quite sent her running for the toilet, but was definitely annoying.

“Are you feeling okay, Henry?” she’d ask every day, checking for a fever and his skin for any clamminess. She just needed to touch him, to make sure he was okay; or maybe she was being clingy because he had just started middle school.

“I’m fine, Mom,” he’d say, shrugging her off. “Are you?”

“Yeah, totally.”

Part of her wondered, when the nausea continued for a week without abating, if she was somehow pregnant again. It felt a lot like the early stages. But immaculate conception had only happened once, to her knowledge, so she had probably just picked up the flu somewhere.

She tried to power through it—even going on desk duty at her bail bonds firm (which she rarely, if ever did), but then her hands started cramping up from all the typing and kind of stayed that way. And good lord, that was terrible coffee in there, but she was so parched that she’d take it. She complained about it to Snow, who gave her a sidelong glance that fell somewhere between pitying and knowing, but amazingly gave no lecture. She just gave her a box of rose-flavored tea and a hug. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d been sick in Henry’s lifetime—no one had that good an immune system—but she felt terrible that it was putting her so out of commission (in addition to, you know, feeling terrible).

“What kind of flu did you give me, kid?” she asked, voice hoarse, when Henry brought her tea in bed on her birthday. 

“Maybe it’s something worse, Mom,” he said, and she could see how scared he was. “Maybe you should go to the ER?”

Cold dread washed over her at the mention of the place (or maybe it was just a chill resulting from the recently developed fever; it was hard to tell). “No; I’m not that bad,” she promised, despite how awful she sounded. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll go to urgent care.”

There was one on their block, but she didn’t even have the energy to walk that far. Just getting to her car was draining. Her hand struggled to cooperate with the pen while filling out forms, which included firmly checking the “no” box next to the question asking if she had lovesickness. She had the flu—that was it. 

(Not that lovesickness had any true treatment; even at hospitals, all they could do was put a person on an IV of fluids and pain killers until it was done. So there was really no point in an urgent care even asking. Jerks.)

The doctor asked the usual questions—symptoms, how long she’d had them, and a whole bunch of other stuff that was already on the forms—before actually reading what was on the clipboard, squinting, then looking up at her skeptically. “Are you sure you don’t have lovesickness?”

“Positive,” she snapped back. 

He gave her another incredulous look, shook his head, and wrote her a prescription for a generic antibiotic—which was all she needed, she was sure, and not the judgment of some two-bit doctor with bleached hair. 

She felt better the next morning, after medicine and rest; good enough to go to work, so she started to get ready. See—she’d been right! It was just a bug. Nothing crazy or earth-shattering, just a run-of-the-mill thing. 

Or, at least, that was her last thought before the world turned on it’s axis and she passed out on her bed. 

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“Emma, are you sure I can’t take you to the hospital? You passed out, for crying out loud!” She could always count on David’s brotherly instincts to border on paternal. 

“I’ll be fine; I promise. I just need to ride it out some more.”

David huffed, clearly not pleased with the situation. She wasn’t thrilled with it, either, but she wasn’t fit to be Henry’s mom until this thing had ran its course, or the antibiotics stopped making her dizzy—whichever came first. Henry was the one who found her unconscious, though she roused quickly; but it shook him enough that she didn’t want him around while she was still this sick. She’d never forgive herself if she got him sick, too. 

“And you’re sure it’s just a bug?”

“Yes! Oh my god,” she rasped out, though it didn’t sound as convincing with her weakened voice. “Go! Have fun! Make sure he gets to school on time, does his homework, et cetera.”

David sighed again, but she could tell from the slump of his shoulders that he’d relented. “Alright; but make yourself some tea and get some rest. We’ll check in on you—no complaints. And if you don’t answer your phone, we’re coming to get you.”

“Fine,” she huffed; that was fair. Henry shuffled out from his room then, with an overstuffed duffel. For a moment, it reminded her of being a kid and her entire life fitting in one of those as she was moved from home to home; her eyes watered at the memory, but she—and Henry—knew he had a home to come back to; this was temporary. “Be good for your aunt and uncle,” she told him, and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead (which seemed a lot closer to chin than it had the day before).

“I will. Please get better soon, Mom,” he said, worry in his voice and his big brown eyes.

“I will. I promise.” 

She couldn’t get worse, right?

Why did she keep saying that? Famous last words, no doubt. 

Because she’d hardly settled on the couch after they left before another wave of vertigo struck and she nearly spilled her tea (of course, Snow had sent another box over). Though it might not have been that bad if she had, because she was also feeling awfully chilled, despite having two fleece blankets draped over her. (If she just gave it an hour, she’d be dealing with a manic hot flash instead.)

But this was better, she knew—Henry would be looked after and she’d be able to heal without anyone bothering her. And it was kind of nice having the apartment to herself for a couple days; that didn’t happen often.

It got dull fast, though. And quiet, oddly enough, even though she was able to watch whatever she wanted on Netflix (Henry hated Outlander; she didn’t).

It was...lonely. Again. Possibly more than ever in her life. It was one thing to not have anyone, like she had when she was a kid. But now that she had people—David, Snow, Henry...Killian, she had to admit—the solitude felt bigger without them there.

And, really, she had no one to blame but herself there. Old habits die hard and all that. As much as she tried to tell herself it was better if they weren’t around her germs, she could also really go for a hug right about now; wrapping her arms around herself didn’t quite cut it.

But this was her bed (well, nest of blankets on the couch) and she had to lay in it until this all passed. At least she had Jamie and Claire to distract her.

So she pulled the blankets a little tighter around her and settled in.

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The next few days passed in a haze of tea, takeout, and the Scottish highlands, though she had to rewatch multiple episodes due to her worsening state and the fact that she kept passing out in the middle (always right before the good stuff, annoyingly). She managed to reply to all of David’s messages fast enough to not cause worry on his end, but that was almost all she had energy for. Bless whoever came up with Door Dash.

And she wasn’t just tired in general—she was tired of being sick. How much longer could one body take to fight off...whatever this was? It had been nearly 6 weeks, all told. The antibiotic script ran out without taking the illness with it. The tea helped a bit, but getting as far as the kitchen to make it was a challenge with the nausea, vertigo, and tunnel vision she was fighting against.

Thank goodness she had an escape on the TV. 

(There were a few strange instances, though, where her foggy mind twisted Jamie’s Scottish brogue into Killian’s accent; and damn did their blue eyes look similar, even if the rest of them didn’t. She may have had a couple of vivid dreams along that line, though.)

But then Jamie and Claire both got lovesickness in season 3. And art started imitating life a bit too much for her liking.

Annoyed, she turned off the TV and pulled herself up from couch so she could shuffle into the kitchen and get more tea.

Fucking Outlander. Fucking sassenach. Fucking soulmates. Fucking lovesickness. Fucking Killian.

Not that kind of fucking, though.

Wait, why did her train of thought go there?

Trains...soulmates...lovesick...Killian.

Dammit.

She shook her head as she plopped down on the floor of her kitchen, still wrapped in blankets while waiting on the tea kettle. That was probably a burned bridge, if she was being honest. She hadn’t heard from him in at least two days, so she had to assume he’d given up; it wouldn’t be the first time someone did that to her, but it was probably the most deserved. Try as she might, she still hadn’t forgotten what happened on the train, and she still had no logical explanation for it...save for one.

The kettle was starting to hiss but she ignored it. Had she overreacted? In an effort to avoid what she’d feared for so long, had her own stubbornness and walls just pushed her right into it? Was she really in the same position she’d just seen on her screen...was she lovesick?

A knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts, though; it was probably the pizza delivery. She wasn’t even really sure why she’d picked that to order, though it probably had something to do with Killian being on her mind. It took some struggle to pull herself up off the floor, her stiff muscles protesting each movement, but she managed to get upright with only a minor amount of vertigo; maybe she was getting better, after all?

There was another knock. “I’m coming,” she tried to shout, but her voice could only go so loud. As fast as she could manage—which wasn’t very—she limped to the door, brushed her hair behind her ears in a weak attempt at looking presentable, unlatched the lock, and opened it.

But she wasn’t greeted by the smell of dough and melted cheese, or by an annoying teenage delivery boy—no, that was taking its sweet time, as usual. Her heart actually stopped for a brief moment, because on the other side of the door was Killian.

And he looked as awful as she felt. 

“Emma,” he breathed, a faint smile pulling at his weary features, but it faded fast as a cough took over and nearly rattled him off the door frame he was leaning on.

“Killian.” She nearly choked on his name. “How...how did you find my address?” They’d somehow never been to each other’s places.

“David,” he answered. Normally, he would have shrugged, but it probably hurt too much right now. Like her, he had dark circles under his eyes and sheen of sweat on his forehead that his hair was clinging to. He had on a pair of scrub pants and a black sweater under his usual leather jacket, under which his chest was heaving after no doubt climbing the three flights of stairs to her apartment. Oddly, he didn’t have his prosthesis on. “Can we please talk, finally?” 

Even the blue of his eyes was faded, and that was probably what broke her the most. She nodded and stepped aside, leaving a wide path for him to come in.

He stumbled in and she pointed him towards the couch. “Tea?” she offered, trying to be a good hostess.

“Yeah,” he sighed as he fell against the cushions.

As she poured the tea, she didn’t let herself think of the implications of him being as sick as her. Her walls started to go up and she began to rationalize—he probably picked it up at work; god only knows what kind of stuff he was exposed to there. Maybe she’d gotten it from him when they had their collision?

Very carefully, she moved into the living room and set his mug down on the coffee table, before gently sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. “So, you pick up a nasty virus in the ER?” she started, then took a sip.

He cast her an almost annoyed look before reaching for his cup. “I think we both know that’s not the case, love.”

“You don’t know that,” she murmured. “It could be anything.”

He took a sip, then stared at the tea in disbelief as he swallowed. “Where did you get this?”

Now she was the one confused. “Snow; why?”

He snorted derisively. “And it makes you feel better, right?”

“A bit, I guess.”

“Emma, don’t you know what rose tea is for?”

What the heck—did he come over just to fight? She’d understand if he was angry about her ghosting him, but to be so combative? Her hackles were rising. “No, I don’t, Doctor Jones; enlighten me.”

He cautiously set down the mug and then scooted a bit closer to her; she reflexively tried to melt into the arm of the couch. “It’s an old wives’ tale, but said to ease lovesickness.”

She shut her eyes and turned her head. That couldn’t be it—it just couldn’t. Whatever personal revelation she’d been having before his arrival had ran away, buried under her blankets and armor where it belonged. 

She didn’t do soulmates...right?

“You can deny the truth, love, but that won’t make it any less real. And like you just said, I’m a doctor—I know what’s going on. Has anything else helped?”

Not opening her eyes, she shook her head. She didn’t know if she could handle whatever emotion was likely simmering in Killian’s gaze.

“Just what do you think happened on the train that day?” he asked softly, though it didn’t sound like he had another volume.

“I don’t know—maybe we said it under our breath,” she tossed out half-heartedly.

“That’s not true and you know it.”

She opened her eyes to glare at him. “Well, what if I don’t want it? What if I don’t want the universe telling me who’s right for me—what if I want to be chosen instead?”

Despite their dulled color, a spark of fire ignited in Killian’s eyes. “What are you calling the past few months, then?” he spat. “I don’t know about you, but those were some of the happiest of my life, and it was all because of you and Henry. I want to be chosen, too—you know that. But you can’t tell me you’re so dense that you didn’t notice us doing exactly that. And you can’t deny you’ve been happy, too; you’re too much of an open book.” 

He had her there—it was impossible for her to refute it. Even now, despite the distance she was trying to keep between them, she could feel the pull towards him—she’d missed him so much. But was it just because something was pulling strings somewhere out in the cosmos? Could she trust her own feelings? 

“Tell me, love: were soulmates not even a thing, would you hesitate like this?”

That took her by surprise—but then again, everything about Killian had, since the day they met. She couldn’t deny the thoughts and fantasies she’d had about him; those were decidedly romantic in nature. But in her decision to rebel against the entire system, she’d never considered a scenario in which it didn’t exist. There were plenty of people out there who fell in love without it and were happy, but given what she thought she’d had with Neal, she figured it’d be all or nothing for her.

The longer she thought about it, though, her answer became clear: “No, I wouldn’t.”

Cautiously, he smiled, and it looked like he was blinking back tears—but that could have been due to her own fuzzy vision, and she wasn’t sure if it had to do with her emotions or current physical state. “Then why fight it?”

“Because,” she said in a small voice. “What if it’s wrong?”

“Darling, I think we’re well past that.”

She was scraping for excuses now, she knew, and could feel her walls crumbling under his sweet gaze. They weren’t gone yet, though. “What about Milah?”

His brow furrowed. “What about her?”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone else.”

He slumped a bit, but she couldn't tell if that was due to physical or emotional duress; probably both. “Aye, I had thought for a long time that I didn’t want anyone else, that I’d never be capable of letting go of my first love, of finding someone else.” He chewed on his bottom lip and then looked up at her. “That is, until I met you.”

Her breath hitched. There was no going back from a confession like that.

Silence settled over them for a long minute, during which the revelation washed over her. He wanted her—and had for a while, before they made skin contact and ended up here. And the more she reflected on it, she wanted him, too.

She wanted...all of it. Soulmates, happily ever after, the whole shebang.

Oh, who was she kidding? She fucking loved him.

But she was terrible with words—sincere ones, at least. How did she tell him that?

Gingerly, she shifted closer to him; he flinched a little, likely out of the same reflexes she’d honed over the years, but didn’t back away. His right arm was closest to her, and though he was still wearing his jacket, his hand was uncovered. It was a handsome hand, she had to admit—long, graceful fingers, with well-trimmed nails and fine dusting of dark hair on the back. She wondered if the rest of his was just as good-looking. And now, she was determined to find out.

She reached out and tentatively touched the back of his hand; there was an immediate spark at the contact, though, and she pulled back quickly in shock.

Killian’s eyes grew wide and he stared at his hand for what felt like forever; time seemed to freeze around them. But then, slowly, he turned up his palm and looked at her with an encouraging nod and a soft smile.

Emma sat up straighter, as if that would somehow firm her resolve, and took a deep breath. She could do this, totally. (She hoped.)

With a bit more confidence, she again reached for him, and this time, wrapped her delicate fingers around his broad hand. There was still a jolt, but she was ready for it and held tighter instead of retreating. It was immediately followed that same surge of emotion she’d felt on the train: concern, a bit of fear, but most of all—love.

Though she had no idea how this thing worked, she gave it a try. «I love you,» she thought, intensely holding Killian’s stare.

His eyes somehow got even bigger and his mouth parted in surprise, but it only lasted a moment before he was grinning. «I love you, too, Emma.»

Okay, now she really was crying. She never thought she was that kind of sappy girl and usually made sure her tears were reserved for moments that deserved them (Henry’s birth, Snow and Dave’s wedding, and maybe a handful of TV episodes since then). But now? When she was staring at her apparent true love, once she stopped fighting it? All the waterworks.

«Come here,» she heard over their connection, and he pulled her tight to him—though she may have also launched herself at him at the same time, resulting in an audible oof from both of them as they collided against the cushions.

She nestled her head into the crook of his neck and breathed him in. He smelled faintly of rose tea, a lot like sweat, and then, just...Killian. She couldn’t describe it—it was just...him. And it felt like home.

«You smell good, too.»

She winced. «Oh, shit. You weren’t supposed to hear that.»

«You were thinking it rather loudly, love.»

«This is definitely going to take some getting used to.»

«Aye, but I’m up for the challenge if you are.»

«Definitely.»

She sat up, breaking the connection—and found herself immediately missing it. She hadn’t expected that. As soon as skin contact had been broken, her aches and pains began to come back; she hadn’t even noticed they were gone. But that was how it worked, right? The more intense the lovesickness, the longer it took to go away, even when you reconnected.

She was probably going to have to get him naked, wasn’t she?

While the idea of that, and seeing what hid under all those form-fitting layers, was more than appealing, it also made her panic. It’d been so long since she did anything like this; god, did she even remember how to kiss?

Killian had been watching her intently and must have noticed the panic creeping across her face. Cautiously—as if he was approaching a wild animal—he reached up and caressed her cheek. «It’s okay, Emma. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.»

She huffed. «I don’t even know what I want. It’s been so long; I’m rusty with this stuff.»

«Well, that’s convenient.» He gave her a gentle smile. «So am I.»

She took a deep breath and relaxed a bit, but there was still an urge to do—something. It itched under her skin, the desire to be close to him, especially after he let his hand fall away. 

So, slowly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. 

There was no hesitation on his end; his lips were firm and insistent against hers, and warm—so warm. Any lingering chill from lovesickness melted away at the brush of his soft lips and the feel of his solid form next to her. Which, if she was being honest, was too far away. Using more energy than she had in weeks, she shirked her blankets and moved to straddle his lap. He groaned at the movement, but made no effort to pull away or stop what they were doing. And really, it gave her a bit of a self-satisfied thrill that she could draw that reaction from someone; guess she did still have a bit of game.

«You have plenty of “game,” love—I assure you,» he told her as his tongue flicked against their pressed-together lips.

«Okay, that was a little weird,» she thought; talking and kissing at the same time would definitely take some getting used to.

«Good weird, I hope.»

«Duh.»

They continued to snog like teenagers on the couch, just like she’d once imagined, until the pizza delivery actually did show up. She pulled away to catch her breath, but left her forehead connected to his. «Hope you feel like Pizzeria Regina.»

«With you, darling—anything. Actually, I’m famished.»

«Who knew making out worked up such an appetite?»

He chuckled out loud and it seemed to reverberate through her entire body; that was something that bore revisiting. But she was starving, too, so she hopped up to get the door before the kid inevitably left.

In the few minutes it took her to pay and get plates from the kitchen, she could feel the lovesickness settle back in at an almost alarming rate. She thought it was just the lingering fatigue, but she must have turned to fast after getting dishes from her cupboard because the next thing she knew, the world was spinning and she was on the floor. The nausea was back full-force and food was the last thing she wanted to think about; all she wanted was—“Killian,” she called out, but it was more of a weak moan than a yell. 

From her prone position where the living room carpet met the kitchen tile, she could see him hop up from the couch, alarm tensing his entire body. “Emma!” he shouted, voice similarly weak, and took long strides to get to her—but she could see the moment it hit him, too, when he had to grab for the back of the couch to stay upright.

He took a deep breath but then fell to the floor, seemingly intentionally but she couldn’t quite tell—her vision was swimming again, and she closed her eyes against the blur. She could hear him, though, and a moment later felt his rough palm cupping her cheek. 

He was speaking out loud, but she could feel his panic through their connection. “Emma, love, are you alright? What happened?”

She blinked a few times before staring up at him; he was hovering on all fours, his eyes darting as he looked her over for injury. The longer he touched her, the better she felt; she wasn’t surprised, but damn, they needed to kick this bullshit.

«Agreed,» came his the echo of his voice in her head, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. «Don’t scare me like that again.»

«I’ll try,» she said, «and I’m sorry.»

«You couldn’t help it, love; no need to apologize.»

«No, not just for that—for everything.» The truth of it was that it was that moment that sealed the deal for her. Other than her family, no one had ever worried about her like that, and the surge of love she felt—both from him and her own feelings—when he gave her that gentle kiss was greater than she’d ever felt. «For ignoring you, for fighting this, for letting us get like this. I’m sorry.» A tear started to fall down her cheek; god, she was officially a sap now.

«Oh, Swan—don’t.» He relaxed down to the floor to lay next to her. «I get it—I nearly did the same a few times, too.»

«You did?» She was surprised how much that shocked her; she was used to it from most people, but not him.

«You should have seen the tests I had my friends in the lab running. Everything from cancer to mono.»

 «I nearly bought a pregnancy test at one point,» she giggled. «Don’t we make a pair?»

He smiled back. «We do, love,» came the soft voice, and he ran a hand through her hair. «We do.»

She couldn’t help it anymore: the combination of his emotions and thoughts were mixing with hers and threatening to drown her; she hadn’t felt anything this intense since...well, since Neal, but now she realized how wrong she’d been then. Killian was coming to a similar conclusion, she could tell, but she didn’t want to think about anyone else right now—just him.

So she hitched a leg over his hips, closed the space between them, and proceeded to kiss the living daylights out of him. And maybe grind up on him a bit. (Was that still a thing people did? God, she was so rusty.)

«I don’t know, and I don’t bloody care as long as it’s something we do.» Even his voice in her head was wrecked, to match the way he was panting. He tangled his legs with hers to bring himself closer, mirroring her gesture; she forgot how good dry humping felt.

Hell, all of this—it was like her body was coming back to life after a decade of disuse. Killian’s touch, minimal as it was through the layers of clothes they still had on, was sending those same sparks from earlier through her whole being, inside and out. She wanted to feel everything he could make her feel—she needed him, desperately. And if the growing bulge his scrubs failed to hide was anything, he did too.

«Only if you want to,» he assured her, taking a break from their game of tonsil hockey to catch their breaths, but he still pressed his forehead to hers. «I know you wanted your pizza,» he teased.

«To hell with the pizza.»

She held him tight with her leg one more time, feeling the press of his growing erection against her core—where a fair amount of those sparks had settled—before pecking his lips, sitting up, grabbing his hand and forearm, and somehow managing to untangle their legs without hitting any sensitive areas. He followed her to standing, and she quickly tugged him down the hallway to her bedroom; if she giggled a bit at the idea of having a boy in her room after so long, well, that would stay between them.

They’d no sooner crossed the threshold than she was back on him, pressing him against her dresser on the adjacent wall and probably knocking some books or something off, but that was the last thing on her mind; she was too caught up in finding the perfect way to grip his hips and the way his fingers were toying with the hem of her baggy T-shirt, grazing the skin underneath. She was starting to understand how a sparkler felt, with the way his every touch drew a spark.

As they continued to kiss, her hands began to wander, too, and found the edge of his sweater (she had no idea when he’d ditched the jacket, but that was also low on the list of concerns at the moment). His palm was resting warm and heavy on her waist, so she followed suit, letting her touch slip under fabric to his skin, and started to slide upwards.

To her shock, though, he flinched away, putting distance between them—though not enough that she couldn’t still see the way his chest was heaving under his (extremely well-fitting, she saw now) sweater. His eyes were cast on the floor and he was clenching his jaw nervously. 

«Hey, what’s wrong?» she asked gently, but didn’t want to make a move if it might jar him more.

«It’s nothing; it’s just that...no one has seen me like this since...since the accident.»

Oh, god—she hadn’t even thought about that. Here she was worrying about her own skills when there were much bigger issues to be dealt with—on both ends, probably. «We don’t have to.»

«No, I want to,» he assured her, finally meeting her gaze again. «I just remembered all of a sudden, and...I’m afraid it’s not all that pretty.»

Well, she knew a thing or two about having scars. But she hadn’t given them much thought until now; they didn’t really bother her all that much. Which, she supposed, meant only one thing. 

«Then let me go first.»

He tried to protest, but she ignored it as she guided his hand up her side, encouraging him to go higher. They both stilled when he reached her bare breast—she’d forgotten she hadn’t bothered with a bra in several days, and he wasn’t expecting the lack of obstruction when his thumb grazed her nipple. She sensed an odd combination of panic and thrill coming from him, and a polite apology started to form, which was when Emma found the lone downside to having an almost telepathic connection with her soulmate: she couldn’t shut him up with a kiss.

«But you can keep trying,» he suggested, winking terribly. His deep chuckle echoed in her mind and goosebumps rose on her skin.

He left his hand on her breast while she shimmied out of her top, moving only far enough away to slip it off and toss it aside. The cooler air plus her growing arousal were evidenced by her peaked nipples, and she didn’t miss the way his gaze drifted south.

And in one swift motion, she slid off her oversized pajama pants, letting them fall to the floor and leaving her completely naked.

His hungry gaze darted around, scanning her body, and for a moment, the same self-consciousness he was feeling slipped in—no one had seen her naked in ages, either, not since before Henry was born; she was by no means out of shape, but pregnancy had left its marks, in addition to all the other ones she’d acquired over the years. For the first time in a long time, she felt somewhat exposed—but the feeling evaporated under his reverent stare.

«You are bloody stunning, love; every part of you.» He pulled her closer and placed yet another soft kiss against her temple; she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of those, or the accompanying wave of love that threatened to drown her with each one. He took a deep breath, then, «I suppose it’s my turn, then?»

«Only if you want.»

He swallowed. «Lend me a hand?»

She giggled. «Of course, but you have to promise to never make a hand joke again.»

«We’ll see.»

She could kiss the smirk off his face, at least, and proceeded to do so as her hands made their way back to his waist and slipped beneath his sweater. Slowly, she dragged upwards, his sweater bunching at her wrists as she uncovered his stomach. She was curious to look, but didn’t want to pull away until she needed to.

Her fingers were the first to discover the hair on his chest as they slid through it; it was thick and soft to the touch—a contrast to the firm muscles beneath. Despite all her dreaming, that was a detail that never quite worked its way into her fantasies—she’d never much cared for it before—but now, it seemed to perfectly fit him. And she was anxious to see it.

She’d gone as far as she could on her own, her hands coming to rest on his collarbones, her thumbs settling into the dips there. Killian took over then, lifting his arms to tug off his left sleeve above her head and not breaking the kiss until he was pulling the shirt off altogether—and then her breath was nearly stolen.

Killian may have said she was stunning, but he was fucking gorgeous. He wasn’t one of those ripped gym rats, like she had once thought he’d be, but he was clearly strong—a solid core and lean muscles, with biceps that looked like they could both hold her hips tight in the throes of passion and then cuddle her close after. Dark hair perfectly covered his pecs and drew a trail down the center of his stomach, disappearing into the scrubs that he absolutely needed to take off. And there were scars, yes—scattered around his upper body, but most obviously at the end of his left arm—but if anything, they just made him more...real.

«Did you doubt I was?» he ribbed. (Which, speaking of ribs, she could just see the outline of his, and knew hers were on similar display—a reminder of how bad things had gotten for both of them; never again, though.)

«I dunno; this all kind of seems like a strange dream come to life.»

He stepped closer and placed his hand and wrist on her waist. «A good dream, I trust?»

«An incredible one, but one that I never really dared to hope for.»

He placed his forehead on hers—another gesture she was coming to adore. «I know the feeling.»

For a long moment, they just breathed each other in and floated in the swirl of their shared emotions going back and forth; she was starting to lose track if the love she felt cresting in her heart was her own for him or his for her. It seemed endless, though, so as long as it never ran out, it probably didn’t matter what belonged to who.

«I can assure you, it won’t run dry.»

«Good.»

She reached for his shoulders again and pressed against him, finding his lips for what felt like the hundredth time—and she hadn’t had enough, not at all, nor would she likely ever. But, as she arched her pelvis up against too many layers of cotton, she knew she’d had enough of these damn scrub pants.

His laughter rang in her head as she ignored any rules of propriety and ran her hands down his back until she hit the elastic band of his pants and dipped under them, right to his bare (well, slightly fuzzy) cheeks and gripped. That brought him even closer to her, his chest hair brushing against her nipples and his erection pressing into her core. 

«These really need to come off.»

«There’s nothing stopping you.»

«Thank God.»

She wasted no time in slipping them off his narrow hips, barely waiting for them to hit the floor before she was changing their direction, only pausing long enough for him to step out of the legs lest he trip, before she was pushing him in the direction of her bed. The back of his legs hit the edge of the mattress and he tried to sit, but she stayed on top of him until he fell back against the bed with her straddled over his hips. She could feel his cock pressing against her waiting entrance, but not at all in the way she wanted—no, needed him.

«Can’t I properly lavish you, my love?» he enquired coquettishly as he massaged her breast with his hand and brought her closer to his level with the other arm. «I want to make you feel good.»

God, that sounded amazing, and she wanted to reciprocate. But him pulling her flat to his chest had just made it more painfully obvious that he wasn’t inside her, and that was all she wanted. She was more than ready—he had to be aware of that—and logically, she knew that was the fastest way to dispel whatever was left of their lovesickness. (That, and she’d gotten a good look at his shaft when she’d pulled his pants off and—damn.)

«Next time—I promise.» She was panting with want. «But right now, I need to feel you.»

He nodded; he was just as breathless. «Okay; where do you want me?»

«On top.»

«As you wish.»

Smoothly, he flipped them over so that she was flat on her back and he was hovering above her, propped on his left forearm. He placed one last, long kiss against her lips, then sat back on his haunches to ready himself.

A bit of nervousness snuck in here—she really hadn’t done this since...well, probably not since Henry was conceived. She knew she needed to lift her hips up a bit and would need to help him out, but did she remembered how to set the rhythm? How to meet him thrust for thrust?

«We’ll figure it out together, love,» he said with a soft smile and gentle caress of his blunted wrist on her thigh. He was a bit nervous, too, but knowing they were in the same boat made it all the easier.

And then she watched as he stroked himself and anything other than desire faded away. Her own fingers unconsciously drifted to her clit and began stroking, needing some sort of relief.

When he was ready, he shifted forward into the open embrace of her legs. «You ready?»

«So.»

«Can you…?»

“Yeah,” she breathed out loud; it still took some conscious effort to communicate nonverbally and her brain power was becoming increasingly limited. But she sat up enough to take her own hold of his velvety cock—one she could not wait to take in hand and mouth at a later date—and guided it to her entrance, circling it gently.

They were both a bit anxious about what came next—would it feel like the first time all over again?—but she nodded at Killian to go ahead, and he slid inside in one smooth motion.

Oh, God—she’d forgotten what this felt like. Yeah, she had her toys, but nothing could replicate the feel of the real thing: the heat, the smell, the emotion. This was exactly what she needed��exactly who she needed.

«You feel bloody amazing, darling.» They hadn’t even started moving and already, he sounded wrecked.

«So do you, oh my god.»

She pulled him down by the neck to kiss him again, taking a long moment to get used to the feel of him, even though in some ways, he felt familiar—like he was a perfect fit.

«I mean, we are soulmates,» he reminded her.

«Yeah, but I didn’t think that applied to body parts, too.»

«I fail to see any negatives here.»

«Oh, definitely not.»

He turned the attention of his lips to her neck, tickling her with his stubble, which made her squirm—and then gasp, because it drew just the slightest bit of friction where they were joined together. And it felt incredible.

«That good, eh? We barely did anything.»

She wrapped a leg around him and pressed her foot against his ass, moving him again. «No more teasing; just move.»

It took longer than she’d care to admit for them to figure out the right pace—being soulmates didn’t mean they were automatically in sync (which was probably descriptive of their entire relationship)—but they eventually got there, to a point where she could meet him at every push and he found the perfect angle to hit every sensitive point inside. He groaned when she clenched, and she moaned whenever he pressed hard enough to brush her clit. And in no time at all—but also possibly forever? Time was weird—she was near the edge of release, so close to falling off. 

«Let go, Emma; I want to see you come.»

«I want you to go with me.»

He let out a deep exhale. «I’ll try.» 

He picked up the pace and her already racing heart struggled to keep up with it, but in the end, she couldn’t; she reached her peak and crested it with a shout, fireworks going off behind her eyes as he continued to thrust into her.

It didn’t take much longer for him to follow her, though, and even though she was caught up in her own rapture, she could feel him stutter as he climaxed and spilled into her. (Good thing she still took the pill, if only for the cycle regularity.) He was dangerously close to collapsing on top of her but still, she held him tight with her legs, as if he might disappear if she didn’t.

But he was done depressingly soon, and her legs were no match for the dead weight that was leaning against them as he fell to her side on the mattress. Every part of her was tingling, as if each cell in her body was renewed after that. She cracked an eye open, and despite the dim light coming through her bedroom curtain, Killian was nearly effulgent as they lay there in the afterglow. She knew they needed to clean up, and probably text David so that he knew they weren’t dead, but that could be dealt with later; right now, she just wanted to soak this in.

Killian reached across the short distance between them and pulled her tight to his chest; she was right—those biceps were perfect for being held. «How was it?» he asked shyly.

«Only the greatest orgasm of my life; how about you?»

He smirked. «Roughly the same, I think.»

She placed a gentle peck on the scar on his cheek. «I love you.»

«I love you, too.» He sighed and snuggled into her neck. «Now what?»

«We’ll deal with that later,» she sighed. «Right now, this is perfect.»

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

«You were wearing this when we met,» he thought as he wrapped himself around her from behind, adorably resting his chin on her bare shoulder.

She was getting dressed—after round 2, where they did get to lavish each other, then round 3 in the shower—into a very familiar blouse and rather unseasonable pair of shorts; he’d only gotten as far as his pants. 

«Mhmm. This is what I was going to wear, until I found out some random guy was gonna be there. Couldn’t run around exposing myself like that, now could I?»

«I don’t know; might have saved us a lot of time.»

She turned in his arms and hugged him tight, loving the feel of his warm skin under her palms. «No, probably not. I was nowhere near ready then.»

«And now?» he asked; even if they weren’t communicating verbally, his facial expressions—including the signature quirk of his eyebrow—remained the same.

«Ready for anything.» She emphasized it by rising on her toes to give him a quick kiss. «But if you don’t get a shirt on soon, David is gonna send a search party.»

«Let him,» Killian smirked, and made a move to plant a kiss on her neck that she narrowly dodged, only by jumping away; of course he’d noticed she was ticklish there.

“I’m serious, Killian!” Now that she was getting used to their telepathic connection, it felt like was the first time she’d used her voice in ages; at least she was laughing as she chastised him. “I walked in on him and Snow enough and as much as I might like the idea of revenge, I do NOT want to subject Henry to that.”

He brushed a tendril of hair off her shoulder, but left his hand there and gave her a beyond cheeky smirk. «It’s bound to happen at some point.»

She just rolled her eyes. «Put your damn shirt on.»

Somewhere in there, they had let David know they were alive and would be heading over shortly. They made no mention of the other, though; Killian would join them later, after he went home to change, and honestly—they just wanted to see the reaction, especially from Snow. She did worry a bit about Henry, but knowing how good they were together kept her concern to a minimum. 

After Killian pouted some more but eventually complied with her request for clothing (one of the few times she’d ever have to ask, she hoped), she drove him over to his building—which really was close, but he’d taken a Swyft to her place. They shared a quick kiss goodbye and then she was alone. 

It was surprising how quickly that empty feeling came over her again now that she was by herself—how quickly she’d gotten used to his presence, particularly over the last few life-changing hours, but the past months as well. Hopefully, the cops weren’t around, because she pressed the gas pedal a little bit harder—she couldn’t wait to see everyone again. Now that she knew for a fact there was someone else on her side—that she didn’t have to isolate herself anymore—she didn’t want to at all. 

At least it was a short drive, and Henry was waiting for her on the front porch when she pulled up to the house. “Mom! I missed you!” he shouted as he ran for her, then grabbed her in a bruising hug. God, it seemed like he’d grown half a foot in the last few days. 

“I missed you too, kid.” But it took the same amount of effort as usual to kiss the top of his head, so at least she hadn’t missed anything. 

She did feel a bit guilty that she’d still managed to succumb to the one thing she’d worked so hard to avoid, but at least she knew it would never happen again. 

“You’re all better now?” he asked in a hopeful voice. 

“Yup; all better. And I promise to not let myself get that sick again.”

“Good. I was ready to sick Killian on you.”

She snorted; that was not something she was going to try to verify nor dispute. And he didn’t notice, thank God; it was bad enough he knew what cockblocking was. He just dragged her to the backyard, where Snow and Dave were waiting. 

Their immediate grins turned over to a bit of shock, probably at her outfit; she was definitely dressed for summer, and while it was unusually warm for the last week of October, it was barely 70 degrees. But she hadn’t felt the breeze on her skin in so long, and hey—she had a point to make. 

“Well, don’t you look...summery,” Snow assessed as she gave her a hug; David was, per usual, at the grill. “Oh, but I forgot to tell you: Killian’s coming too.”

Snow was a terrible liar: she hadn’t forgotten at all. If the not-so-hidden gleam in her eye was any hint, this was yet another matchmaking scheme. But Emma could play along this once. 

“Oh, okay,” she shrugged, feigning disinterest. “I’ll keep my space.”

Henry was catching her up on what he’d learned at school that week and the latest drama with his friends when Killian arrived. She was trying her damnedest to keep up with what Henry was telling her about his science class, but Killian’s presence was exceedingly distracting—especially with the way he sauntered in wearing a form-fitting t-shirt that both hugged his biceps and revealed a peek at his chest hair, and khaki shorts that showed off his calves. Even though she knew what lay underneath all that, she could still feel the pull of arousal.

She turned her focus back to Henry as Killian greeted Dave and then Snow, trying her best to play it cool. If that was a thing she could still do (probably not). But it was like every part of her was in tune with him now, and couldn’t help but react when he made his way over to the table they were sitting at.

“Is this seat taken?” he enquired, nodding at the chair next to Emma.

“Go ahead,” she said, unable to keep a hint of a smile off her face.

But he didn’t get a chance to sit before Henry had hopped up and wrapped him in a hug, too. Any lingering worries about Henry’s potential reaction immediately disappeared as she watched the tender interaction between them, on both their ends—they’d both clearly felt the absence of the other, so now she was feeling a bit guilty instead.

Like she’d told herself earlier, though: it wouldn't happen again.

They took their seats on either side of her—Killian on her left, Henry on her right—and Henry relaunched his stories. Aside from some light footsie, they hadn’t made contact yet, though his arm resting on the surface of the table was only inches from hers. Eventually, Henry realized that all the parts of Killian’s prosthesis were exposed, so that gave her an opportunity to make a move, when Killian was leaning over the table to show it to Henry.

Surreptitiously, she let her forearm touch his, where he was bracing himself on the table with it. The only indication he gave that he noticed was the brief straightening of his spine, but she immediately sensed his emotions again—happiness, a bit of hunger, but mostly love.

«I missed you,» he told her while Henry was inspecting the mechanics of the prosthesis.

«It wasn’t even an hour,» she teased.

«Are you trying to tell me you don’t feel the same? Because I can tell that’s not true.»

«No, I definitely missed you, too.»

The connection was broken when he sat back down—when Snow brought the food over. She proceeded to mother hen them as she distributed the food, making sure they were both feeling better—and asking some pointed questions about the rose tea.

“Yeah, it did help a lot,” Emma gushed.

“Aye; thank you, milady,” Killian added, ever the gentleman.

Snow seemed pleased, but there was still a level of concern in her manner that anyone could see; she didn’t think her plan was working, to which Emma hid her smirk in a bite of hot dog. (She could see wheels turning in Henry’s head, though.)

She and Killian continued to act cool to each other through the meal, save the occasional brush of the leg under the table (which was mostly to laugh at Snow’s matchmaking attempt).

Finally, Snow left with Henry to take the dishes inside and David cleaned up the grill, leaving them alone. She put her shin against his leg again while pretending to look at her phone.

«Do it when she comes back?» she proposed.

«Yeah, but wait for her to set the pie down; I’d hate for her to drop it.»

«Good point.»

And so, casually, once Snow had brought the pie to the table and made the first cut, Emma wrapped her hand around Killian’s and waited for everyone to notice. 

“Emma, do you want ice...OH MY GOD.”

There it was: the reaction they expected from Snow. She’d dropped the serving knife, which landed with a clatter on the table, and was staring at their joined hands with wide eyes and jaw hanging open. Eventually she blinked and slammed her mouth shut, but continued to stare at them. 

“But—you were—” she stammered, a pointed finger drifting between the two of them. “I thought—I didn’t—”

Emma was trying really hard not to laugh and could feel how amused Killian was, too. David just looked confused, and Henry was a bit slack-jawed, though she could tell it was in a good way.

Then it was like a lightbulb went on in Snow’s head, and she turned to David. “I called it! I totally called it!”

She then fell into girlish squeals while David, instead, levied a wary eye on Killian. “Is this why you wanted their address?”

“Um, yeah.” 

David squinted. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” Killian answered.

Henry piped up. “Do I wanna know?”

“Absolutely not!” Emma cut in.

All eyes were on Henry, though, as he stood and walked around Emma’s chair to Killian.

“Do you love my mom?” he asked, with all the severity a 10-year-old boy could muster.

“I do,” Killian said, and it almost sounded like a vow.

“And you promise not to hurt her, or to run away on us?” She didn’t miss the way he said “us”; she was a little surprised they hadn’t discussed it, but Killian knew he was getting a package deal—he had from the beginning.

“I’d rather be sent to the depths of Hades.”

«Drama queen,» she told him, but Killian’s eyes only flickered over to hers for a moment as he continued to hold Henry’s stare.

“Okay then,” Henry nodded, then seemed to think for a moment before launching himself at Killian again. “Welcome to the family.”

She didn’t need their connection to know how that made Killian feel: his eyes grew wide for a moment, but then they closed and he returned the hug full-force. She’d had the same reaction when she was adopted all those years ago; and though this was a totally different situation, it was still the same emotion.

Snow wanted all the details, obviously, and David and Henry wanted none, so they complied until the sun set and it was time to go home, both of them feeling the chill in their weather-inappropriate wardrobes. 

They stood by their cars, locked in an embrace—both because of a desire to stay close and desire to get warm. 

«Well, that went reasonably well,» he decided.

«Yeah, pretty good. I expected a bit more screaming though.»

«Same,» he chuckled.

«When can I see you next?» This was the part she wasn’t looking forward to; they weren’t in any danger of lovesickness again—not if she had anything to say about it—but there was still the reality that they had different jobs and different homes. (For the time being, at least.)

He shrugged. «We never got to enjoy that pizza. Maybe we try again tomorrow night?»

«Sounds perfect.» She underlined it by rising to her toes to place a lingering kiss on him.

“Are you guys gonna be like this all the time now?” Henry called out from the other side of the Bug, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“Yup,” she yelled back. “Get used to it.”

“Ugh, fine,” he grumbled, but it was half-hearted; she could hear the happiness in his voice.

«Well, we shouldn’t try to scar him too much.»

«That’s a change in tone from earlier.»

«I didn’t have his approval yet. Didn’t you hear? I’m part of the family now.» She could really fell his joy at that now.

«You already were; you know that, right?»

«It’s nice to have confirmation.»

«Yeah, I know.» She kissed him again. «And I hope you never doubt it again.»

He was the one to pull her close this time, stealing her breath with a kiss that she hoped would get her through the next day. «Not as long as I have you. I love you.»

«I love you, too,» she sighed. «Onto the next adventure?»

«After you, love.»

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

It wasn’t like a switch was flipped and they were just happy-true love all the time. There were still bumps in the road, they had their share of fights, and their past fears and walls still haunted them on occasion.

Several months passed before they moved in together—months that didn’t look all that different from the previous ones, save for the regular sleepover. They couldn’t decide whose apartment to move to, but Henry was the one to quash that dispute when he found a house for sale a couple streets over from Snow and Dave.

They were almost always touching when they were together, and even more so once they lived together—and their connection only grew. She didn’t realize that it could, but the longer they were together, the more impossibly in tune they became.

And she finally got to experience shared dreams—for real this time. And it was mostly amazing, but people with baggage like theirs didn’t only have sweet dreams; they had nightmares, too. More than once, she saw the crash that took Milah, and Killian saw Neal’s death several times. The worst ones were when the two became melded together and they dreamed about losing each other; those were the nights they came together to make sure the dreams weren’t real—to feel the other there.

Granted, that wasn’t the only time they got it on—they did that fairly regularly and with vigor, which was probably why their daughter, Hope, came along sooner rather than later. 

(But not before Snow got to plan their wedding, at least. They’d been right: she started the binder the day they met.)

All told, it was...perfect. It was both everything she expected and nothing like it, and she wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it had taken her so long to warm up to the idea.

«You just hadn’t met me yet,» Killian teased, standing behind her on their patio and looking out over their backyard. Snow and David were there, with their son Leo toddling after Hope and Henry chasing them both around. Maybe it was a cliche, but she was pretty sure this was what happily ever after looked like.

«Nope, I hadn’t,» she confirmed, and pulled his arms a bit tighter around her. «I love you.»

«I love you, too.»

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!

tagging some peeps: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks@mryddinwilt@cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @fergus80@pirateherokillian@bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @killianmesmalls@effulgentcolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @distant-rose @athenascarlet @kmomof4@ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose@snowbellewells@idristardis @scientificapricot @let-it-raines @shireness-says@courtorderedcake @its-okay-killian @captainsjedi @a-faekindagirl

[nightmaretyrantvantas]

So I’m finally getting around to writing out a bunch of info about my Sander Sides au so I hope youre all ready--(its like 1 am im so sorry for any spelling mistakes and missed tags)

So its 1 am on a work night and I cant sleep and I’ve had lots of ideas and canon things for this au bouncing around my head for days and now TONIGHTS THE NIGHT ITS HAPPENING IM DELIVERING YOU ALL THE DETAILS AND EVERYTHING I CAN THINK OF AND TYPE 

Also please feel free to ask about this! I know I got a few new followers from all my recent sander sides art and also thanks to @sugarglider9603 reblogging some art I made of their au I got the biggest flood of exposure and attention on my art ive ever had and I have so much to thank them for, for all recent exposure ive gotten the past couple days( theyre so sweet and lovely and easy to talk to sugar deserves all the love--) and its given me a huge surge of motivation and confidence to post this. And please, my inbox is always open to talk about my aus or my art! Ask questions, send requests, send headcanons or ideas, send fluff angst im open to anything and I try to do all requests sent to me(sooner or later)

Oh oh! and please id you catch any and all the little inspirations or anything let me know

And finally this au is a LAMP au with Remile and Demus on the side

Ahem ahem anyway onto the au!!!

More under the cut so I dont flood your screen too bad!

Ok so! 

This Au was originally inspired by @residentanchor‘s amazing fanfic A Lesson in Practicality and also a little bit by @prettyinaccurate‘s fanged virgil au( I’ll get more into that further down) 

So it takes place in a (currently) unnamed bigger city I based off San Francisco and Sacramento( because I live in Cali and those are the two major cities ive really visited ya know?) The boys are all in various stages of their twenties when they move into a four bedroom apartment together: Patton Foster is the oldest of the roomies at 27, then Logan Masters at 26, Roman Prince at 24, and finally Virgil Collins at 22. They move in together because it all works out for them really, the apartment is in a good distance to all their current jobs, whether by bus or even in Pat’s case in walking distance and with all four of them it was well affordable and was pretty nice. I mean hey it even came with a little communal balcony ( since theyre on third floor of the building) 

Things are understandably a little rocky at first , i mean isnt it always though?

Virgil has alot of anxiety and so he tends not to talk really at all at the beginning unless he ABSOLUTELY had to, mostly communicating in noncomittal noises and soft grumbles, and he was fresh out of collage and barely two years into his job and out on his own for the first time and he wasnt really ready for it either like christ too many people

Patton was bright bubbly and caring. This wasnt his first rodeo with roomies, I mean cmon, hes been sharing a room with his older brother Damian(deceit) on and off almost all his freakin life, nor was it his first time living on his own with strangers(hes lived in two different parts of two when he was job hopping before he settled down in his current part time job)

Roman was extroverted loud and exciteable, he too was used to sharing his living space( he had TWO siblings after all) and before he had moved into the apartment he had tried living on his own and with other roommates while he attended collage, but those just didnt work out well ( he ended up staying with his older brother Remy in his studio apartment across the city while he finished out that semester and searched for a job to keep an income.

Logan was serious minded stern toned and confident, he had a minor degree in teaching that he was slowly repursueing and had been out on his own for awhile before he had moved in. And though cold at first he soon found his group of housemates...enjoyable.

Its about a month into them living together that they learn exactly why despite slowly getting close and getting to know each other Virgil still kept a wide distance: He had entirely sharp teeth.

“ I dunno....I was born with them..theyve always been a sharp pain in my ass...” - virgil, about his teeth

Of course just having sharp teeth wasnt bad enough oh no. You see a few years back when he was about 18 he was young and dumb and made horrifically stupid and reckless decisions under peer pressure and ended up doing something that not only pointedly (haha oh god im not funny) chipped his front teeth but it fucked up his teeth pretty majorly, he went from having a normal overbite to almost having a goddamn underbite and crooked all his teeth, and the only way to fix it( because somehow miraculous for all the damage done it turned out to be mostly reversable aside from the chipping) was getting braces to realign his teeth. So he’s had pretty purple braces over his fangs since he was 18 and they werent expected to come off until he was AT LEAST 25 and he was insecure about them. ( he got mocked for them through his two and a half years of junior collage)

Once the gang finds out they are understanding and helpful and dont make a big deal about it( though virgil gains a significant amount of more vampire related nicknames from roman)

Once they get close and comfortable around each other the apartment is pretty warm and lively! 

Virgil works at the art store as an assistant manager and head stocker( a bit of a dream come true since he was an art student)

Roman works as a part time waiter at a family resturant as well as working at a nearby theater( he was of course a lovely theater major) 

Patton worked at a nearby cafe and bakery as a bit of everything! He helped wait tables, serve behind the counter, and helped in the back in the kitchen( the owners were family friends and he’d been working there almost four to five years at that point, boi knows how to do everything) 

Logan worked at a big name bookstore, and also provided tutoring sessions for highschool students on the side by commision

More FACTS~~

Family ages for the big families go as follows:

Fosters: Damian(28), Patton(27)

Prince: Remy(26), Roman(24, older twin by 10 minutes), Remus(24, younger twin)

Emile is 27 and is a licensed therapist and works as a counselor for young adults that volunteers at the nearby library to ready to children

Remy works as a coffee barista in Emile’s building

Remus does alot of odd jobs, kinda working as an independent for hire and gets a surprising steady flow of work and pay. Hes still a trash man though, but hes a successful trash man( partly thanks to Damian calling in favors with connections)

Damian works at a law firm slowly moving into the position of prosecutor

Virgil doesnt really get along with his family and at some point Emile offers to take virgil in as his adopted brother, with Damian assuring him if he wanted concrete legal papers to start changing his last name, cutting ties with his family, anything needed for it he’d see to it that they’d be providing(something our boi really appreciates)

Remy visits Emile on his breaks since hes literally just...two hallways down and vice versa

Damian and Remus live together in the next, slightly smaller city over because Damian’s work transferred him to a different office in order for him to keep moving up in the ranks so to speak. 

Hes also good at what he does.

Family nights happen whenever they can

Patton got to teach them how to cook alot of complicatied dishes from scratch, a bonding time he adores

Roman got Virgil an Espeon hoodie after they all start dating and virgil loves it and wears it alot around the house because its a thicker hoodie and warm( though he tries to ignore the big ears and the obnovious tail

Virgil also loves visiting Roman’s work on what Ro likes to refer to as “ hellish days” AKA kids day which means goofy kid friendly theme days. His favorite was probably alice in wonderland day when Roman was Tweedle Dee

Roman played J.D at the local theater and likes to hum some of the his songs to switch up the Disney

The balcony is covered in houseplants and and a corner of old blankets and pillows to sit and chill on

Once a month Logan and Patton have what is affectionately referred to as the Cat Discourse

After any particularly rough days at work Patton tends to massage Logan’s shoulders and back to make sure Lo doesnt get any really bad stress knots

in return when Logan sees Patton’s head a hard day he makes Patton’s favorite drink and pulls him into a hug and let the older man fall asleep in his arms while they watch movies

Pat and roman sense each other’s bad days and order in some cliche diner food and hole up in pattons room with Pattons computer and relax the shittiness away with comedy specials and movies 

Likewise Virgil has a knack of picking up Roman’s bad days and always grabs a couple glasses and a bottle kinda cheap wine and they end up curling up together on Romans bed marathoning Disney movies on Virgil’s laptop 

and when Virgil closes himself off more than normal Logan manages to lure him out of his room and they end up sitting out on the balcony quietly talking and stargazing

so loving and fond and soft with each other

you hurt one of them you gonna get BEAT by the others. 

Speaking of getting beat, never EVER mess with Roman or Remus in Remy’s proximity

Remy Andrew Prince can and WILL fuck you right up if you hurt his little brothers. He’s protective.

and where Remy will rearrange your face Damian will ruin you mentally and legally if you so much as mistreat a single freckle on his little brother’s face, despite knowing that Patton is fully capable of taking care of himself. 

Everyone protects Virgil, dont mess with or hurt virgil or you have the pack coming for ya throat

aaaaaaaaaaaaaand thats all I have for right now! Of course more will be added but now its almost three in the morning and I have work at 1:30pm and im sleepy finally! But I hope you guys like this! And please, feel free to talk to me about it, my inbox is always open!!

Taglist: @phantommoonpeople @sweetsweetemo @loganberrysanders

[ace-ghambit]

Bumbleby Hercules AU (Part 2)

ALRIGHT WELL THIS POST BLEW UP SO HERE’S A PART 2.

-The songs-

Alright... So this isn’t easy but I’ve decided to NOT include most of the songs in the fic, just because it would just be too much ya know? Like the songs for the most part are unnecessary and I don’t just want to put the lyrics so for the most part I will be removing most of the songs EXCEPT for ‘I Won’t Say I’m In Love’ because that’s the song we’re all here for tbh. Though the muses (maidens) are still going to be the story tellers who interject occasionally in the story

-Villain Plans-

I’ve decided with feedback that Torchwick should probably be the part of “Hades” in this story, mainly because their personalities fit a lot more than Adam and Hades.

Again don’t get me wrong Hades was not a good dude but the fact is that his personality was more campy and pretty amusing for the most part and his voice acting and mannerisms is part of why I really like Hercules and really Torchwick fits perfectly for that role.

However I still want to make Adam an antagonist in this story which is why our least favorite goatman is going to be Torchwick’s apprentice, and the more “serious” threat in this story. I have some ideas for how he might impact Blake in story and I know for a fact that either way I’m just gonna hate writing his scenes so that’s gonna be fun (sarcasm).

As for the imps, I’ve decided that Emerald, Mercury, and Neo are all going to play more competent imps, although Emerald and Mercury are going to be bickering while Neo looks done all the time and is Torchwick’s favorite. 

Instead of trying to figure out who the Witches of the Fates would be I’ve decided to make it one person, and that person is Cinder. I mean the fates only use one eye and Cinder now only has one eye so...

Also before any of yall ask why not Salem, I have written some lore/backstory for the AU, which includes Salem so that’s where she is.

-Other story elements-

Yang’s adoptive parents are Saphron and Terra.

I’ve ultimately decided to have Ruby join Yang on her journey to become a hero so she’ll be tagging along.

I rewrote some lore from RWBY to fit more of this AU to add more story and to not make this a rewrite of Hercules but with RWBY (I think that would just be boring for yall to read)

The lore is more fitting for a “Greek tragedy” and some major story elements from RWBY have been changed so bare with me

-BEES-

Alright so because this is a fanfic that isn’t confined to a certain run time I’m gonna write a lot more bees scenes.

Blake is gonna be sent to by Adam to “find out wondergirl’s” weakness a lot sooner but she ends up getting to know her more and more and Blake falls hard for Yang.

Yang gets a lot of women fawning over her but the only woman she has eyes for is Blake and their dates are so soft.

I MIGHT MAKE REFERENCES TO OTHER DISNEY COUPLES ON THEIR DATES BECAUSE I CAN HAHAHA.

There’s going to be angst near the end because Yang’s gonna find out why Blake initially talked to her and I’m gonna be real sad writing this scene guys ;-;

-Art and feedback-

YALL WHO DREW ART I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

YALL DONT UNDERSTAND I STARTED CRYING I WAS SO FUCKING HAPPY.

HUGE SHOUT OUT TO @lethargicwonder @stardragonarts and @biyikes FOR MY LIFE BECAUSE THAT ART MADE ME SO HAPPY AHHHHHHHH.

ALSO THANK YOU ALL FOR THE AMAZING AND WONDERFUL FEEDBACK I WASNT EXPECTING THIS MUCH AHHHHHHHHH

Anyway that’s all for now folks! I have started writing and hopefully I’ll be able to upload it soon! Love yall! -Ace

[feel199x]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚apple of my eye ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ Chapter V

gang!au, gang member!han jisung, underground band!au, florist!reader  

I  II  III  IV V VI VII VIII IX X

a/n: this chapter is written a little differently, most of the action will be happening in the upcoming chapters. okay stays im the writer and I Am: Anxious  

masterlist

warnings: alludes to drugs (selling), blood bruise mention, gun mention, and themes of stalking and abuse

                               ┍━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┑

 Minho had always been the head between the two of them. Jisung had always been much too emotional. It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart- Jisung had a showcase of talents, a variety of things that he was incredibly good at. It never used to be a big deal, not before they had started the ‘band.’ The nine of them had always been best friends, growing up the same block in a not so great area of the city? They knew, even as children, that they needed each other. Their chances as a group were far better than their chances as individuals. When they were younger, Jisung always got crushes easily. And it wasn’t the kind of thing was he would get one and then leave when someone else caught his eye. No, he fell in love with the strangest things. At least, what Minho considered strange. Jisung had gotten crushes on the little things that people did. Minho remembered that once, he had ended up confessing to someone in high school because of how they laughed. Because Jisung adored making them laugh. Within this same field, he had always been the more empathetic of the group. One day, while the rest of the boys played tag around the playground, Jisung came crying over. A bird’s mother had dropped the baby bird, and in its weak attempt to fly- it died. And Jisung was crying, sobbing over the fact that there was nothing he could do to save the bird. No one but Chan knew how to comfort Jisung properly, and even then it would take a while.

It had always been endearing, a charismatic character trait until their band. It started sophomore year of high school. Really, it turned out they were all inclined to the arts when they had taken a music and dance class in middle school. But that wasn’t the sort of thing you could be proud of, not around here. Eventually, the school pulled the funding for the class anyway. But their passion hadn’t died, and instead of meeting up to play rough or cause trouble in some public places, they san, dance, rapped. It felt transformative, and when they got their first gig- an underground club agreed to let them perform their music, they were over the moon. It was all the group of boys could talk about, becoming the conversation topic sooner or later.  

Minho had known that the club would’ve been sketchy- every underground club around here only had one to be underground. And even if the rest of the boys pretended not to be aware, he was. Their performance was lively in the beginning, everyone pouring their soul into the performance but even when they realized that there was not-so-discreet deals, the passing of handshakes, angel dust crumbs still lingering on people’s nose. Maybe it was because they had nothing to compare it to at the time, but the crowd was nothing they’ve ever seen before. They were dancing, shouting, screaming the lyrics. Maybe it was wrong, they all knew there was something immoral about this- but they had never felt so accomplished. Misguided as they were, they all had an idea about what they were getting themselves into.

Jisung had mixed feelings, after the performance he was crying again. Both out of happiness, the thrill of singing, rapping, dancing- performing with an audience. But he felt as if he had wronged them somehow. As if he was the one selling them the packets, and soon, too soon, he would be. Jisung was the only one on the fence about doing so, even after the entirety of the group had decided: it was wrong, but necessary. There were worse they could do. Even the youngest had come to that conclusion in a matter of a few weeks. It wasn’t that they tried going it by the traditional way, uploading it online- seeking companies. But if they didn’t reject them altogether, producers would want to cut members of the group out. And it was nine or none. Chan, who was usually composed, would cry after they had gotten rejected- or if someone had said that a group member ‘just didn’t have it.’ It felt as though it was a failure on his part.

Until one day they just had enough.

Jisung had come around eventually. And quickly, very quickly, they had risen in popularity. They were a regular at NOT!, an underground club that had become exclusive when they didn’t have enough room to house all their fans. Stray kids, their self given name, were still giving their all within each and every performance. But behind the scenes, there they were moving and selling packages like there was no way they could be caught. But, this life was missing its flaws. One night, an incident occurred- it had to happen sometime. They were just lucky that no one had died. Shots were fired in NOT!, and although no one had died, it was enough to rupture chaos within the mix of sober and high people.

Jisung had cried that night.

It was only later that they learned that members of N/S had found their way into the club. The boys weren’t stupid, they knew it was risky to sell in their vicinity- but what they weren’t aware of, was how risky. As their popularity with the locals and city folk arose, so did the competition against N/S. And N/S didn’t appreciate it, not one bit. That night, everyone had looked over to Chan and Woojin, hoping they would have some type of answer.

But they didn’t.

The club owner made a suggestion to them, an offer. That night, each boy, regardless of license- left with a gun. They had reached the point of irreversible change. They were in it for the long run now, and there was no backing out. Tensions grew and grew between the two gangs, even though Woojin and Chan refuse to call it that. To them, Stray Kids was a band, and it was just a band. But they had collected fans, ones that could relate to their cause and because of that, they considered the tension between Stray Kids and N/S their fight to win, too. But they refused to stop making music, stop trying to be successful within their own realm. The boys began to leave behind the dealings, reduced the number of packages they moved. But the tension in the city was growing until it smothered everyone. But N/S didn’t care, and one day the unpredictable happened. A black car drove by and ended up hitting Jisung in the side of his thigh. Everyone was livid then, even after Jisung had fully recovered. Now, it was decided, that it was shoot on sight.

 Jisung didn’t cry that night.

 So, when Jisung talked about ____ so dreamily, the group had some major concerns.

“I understand, I know you really like them,” Chan was staring at his laptop, composing a new song as Woojin played some notes for him on the piano, “But it’s risky, you should wait until things die down.” Woojin played a melody and nodded his head. “I agree, this isn’t something you should be considering right now,” Woojin added, “We can still meet them ___, but you’ll have to distance yourself after that.” As if the last part hadn’t quite registered, Jisung immediately became hyper-active again, scrambling notes for lyrics in a notebook, all about ___.

It wasn’t that Minho didn’t like ___, they were a good person. They were kind and mellowed Jisung out. It was good to see a little more emotional ever since the drive-by. But Minho always thought when Jisung didn’t.

“You shouldn’t get ___ involved,” Minho sat Jisung down, “It’s already dangerous for you. You’re always talking about how anxious and careful they are, how much they care about you. You can’t involve them.”

“But I’m not,” Jisung said curtly, “I’m going to be careful.”

“You can’t promise anything, not when you know what we do.”

Minho felt like he was the only one willing to face reality, aware of both the damage and good they were doing. The good and evil they were capable of. He was the only one of the few who had come to terms with his mortality, the others opting to live in a dreamscape.

But nightmares would soon trespass.

The night of the flower shop incident, things had gone to shit real fast. The number of gunshots had increased exponentially, the feds cracking down on everybody. But somehow, never being able to find enough, the truth hidden somewhere in angel dust. The boys had chosen to go off the grid and warned Jisung if he didn’t, then ___ wouldn’t just be missing Jisung, they would be mourning over him. So he chose the lesser of two evils, disappearing in the dead of night.

Minho wasn’t usually one to act outside of the group’s decision, believing that for everyone to be able to get along- cooperation is key. But he thought it was strange, each member experiencing some sort of life-threatening event once leaving the karaoke bar? And ___’s shop getting the worst of it? So, before the boys woke up, Minho made his way to the flower shop.

He hadn’t expected to see you though, and he most definitely didn’t expect to have you caught in the crossfires. And once Minho had told the group what happened, there was no stopping Jisung from returning to the shop.

Very few times had Minho seen Jisung angry, and never, never had he seen Jisung as enraged as he was that night. Jisung was nearly fuming, Minho could imagine steam coming off of him. And as Jisung found the ex, sleeping in your bed, after obviously going through your stuff- being an awful, disgusting creep. Jisung had nearly killed him and would have if the guy wasn’t a good fighter. Jisung dragged him out of your room, and he toppled down the stairs like a bag of bricks. He had finally decided to run off, and Jisung was too angry to be relieved that the guy didn’t have a gun, or any weapon to fight back. This feeling in Jisung was primal, but the adrenaline had to come down sometime, and then, and only then did Jisung feel the pain of each cut and bruise that he had gotten, but not earned.

But he wanted to see you, he wanted to see you more than anyone he had ever wanted to see before. It was all he could think about as he toppled down in the guest room, hearing your cries. Even after he left that morning, he traced his fingers on his lips still thinking about you. He decided that he’d rather be beaten up several more times than ever have to see you in that state again. It became his mission, his life’s goal to take down N/S. It wasn’t easy, and after hearing that you were going to return to your beloved shop. He knew it was in vain, but he had to attempt to stop you- he couldn’t live with himself if he hadn’t at least tried, but that was before this. He would’ve never thought about this, not even in his nightmares could this have been happening.

You were in his arm, caught in a chokehold. Tears streaming down your face, gasping for air. The gun digging into the side of your head as Jisung pulled out his gun, pointing it at him.

“Go ahead,” he was laughing, face bright and happy, “But I’m not leaving without ___. To love and to hold, in sickness and in health. Up in heaven, or down on this hellish earth.”

Jisung didn’t know what to do, tears in his eyes as he shook, arms and beloved biceps trembling. He brought it down, face contorted with anger. And he watched, angry tears pouring out of his eyes as he watched you be taken away

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[pengiesama]

The Real Library of Alexandria Was the Friends We Made Along the Way (Fic, TOZ/TOB, school AU)

Title: The Real Library of Alexandria Was the Friends We Made Along the Way Series: Tales of Zestiria / Tales of Berseria Pairing: Gen Characters: Laphicet, Mikleo, Sorey, Velvet

Summary: Phi crusades against two Bigger Kids making noise in the library. He winds up discovering some common ground, and becomes leader of the nerdiest gang this side of the hemisphere.

Link: AO3

This was written for After School Heroes ( @ashtaleszine ); a Tales Of zine focusing on school AUs!

The zine's purchase period is now over, but you can check out some of the other fic and art from the zine in the links below.

ASH's Tumblr: http://ashtaleszine.tumblr.com/ ASH's Twitter: https://twitter.com/ashtaleszine/

Read on Tumblr!

“…I’m not saying that you’re wrong. I’m just saying that you’re vastly misinformed.”

“So, really, you’re saying I’m wrong.”

“No, I’m saying that you’re misinformed, and that your flair for the dramatic has led you to an incorrect interpretation of our sources…”

Phi did not mind listening to debates on topics that interested him. And this one did -- he’d always liked Ancient History and was happy to hear someone discussing it with such knowledge and passion. His own class at school was currently covering the period, but...well. When all they were expected to do was to be able to name city-states and list off a handful of gods, trying to engage his classmates in discussions was an exercise in futility. Even his teacher wasn’t much better. Such was the struggle of being ten years old and maybe a bit too well-read.

No, no, the topic wasn’t the issue, nor was the debate. There was just a time and place for this kind of thing, and the public library after school fit neither of those items. There also was a need for one’s indoor voice. Phi peeped over the top of his book, scowling. His baleful stare, full of judgement and righteous fury, went entirely unnoticed. This wasn’t really that surprising, as Phi was halfway across the reading room and half-buried under a pile of heavy books at his table. He thought of clearing his throat in an accusatory tone, but the idea of making a peep in the library was anathema to the very core of his being. Sure, this section of the library was deserted except for Phi and the debaters, but...but it was the principle of the thing, and that principle was what set man apart from beast.

The two intrepid historians were wearing uniforms from a high school across town. Their status as Bigger Kids gave Phi some pause in confronting them. But with the library’s honor to defend, could he ever forgive himself if he let cowardice win? Phi thought briefly about how his babysitter Velvet might handle the issue, then paled, and stopped thinking about it, because it was kind of scary.

“—Sorey, your arguments show a level of understanding that I’d expect from someone whose historical knowledge came from half-remembered edutainment cartoons from ten years ago, not from someone who I thought knew better,” said the white-haired boy wearily.

“Look, Mikleo, I know that attributing the destruction of the Library of Alexandria to a single catastrophic event ignores other things that led to its decline—”

“And leads to more public disinformation about a section of history that’s already rife with it.”

“—but,” said the brown-haired boy (the other boy, Mikleo, had called him Sorey), pressing on. “Even if there were other events which led to its eventual decline, dissolution, destruction, etcetera, what I’m saying is that the most important and impactful of these incidents was it being set ablaze in the Siege. Aurelian’s attack on the city and the destruction of the Serapeum are drops in the bucket in comparison, when the bulk of the collection was already lost at that point!”

“But they were still important events in its final decline, no matter what your little fanfic daydreams of travelling back in time with a magic firetruck to play hero! And all this assumes that the Library even was damaged in the Siege, considering that accounts of the time are contradictory.”

“Ancient accounts from any ancient historian worth their salt all agree that the library was damaged by Caesar’s short-sighted shenanigans! And it’s not a magic firetruck. It’s—”

“Yes, yes, it’s powered by advanced technology made possible by a time loop that hinges on the hero saving the Library from being burned. You act as though I don’t pay attention when I edit your work. But if you really want to be taken seriously, you have to address the other aspects of its decline that can’t be solved by a firetruck falling from the sky.”

Sorey squinted at the ceiling in thought. “...the firetruck could fall from the sky onto Aurelian.”

“Then you’re getting into further divergent history when a Roman Emperor gets killed like a wicked witch from the Land of Oz. And there’s still the Serapeum to consider.”

“The firetruck could fall on Theophilus too.”

Mikleo appeared to be dumbstruck by this statement for a brief moment, then nearly flipped the table in rage.

“You can’t solve every tragic historical event by dropping firetrucks on it!” he all but shrieked.

“It’s called poetic irony!” Sorey shouted back. “And it’s art!”

Phi agreed with both boys on their more intellectual points, and neither of them on their thoughts about art and literature. More importantly, he also agreed with them on the importance of preserving cultural institutions, which meant that he was duty-bound to intervene in this fight before they destroyed this library too. Luckily, he knew the Dewey Decimal System like the back of his hand, and quickly collected a volume of text that might be able to smother the flames of this debate before they spiraled out of control.

Phi marched over to the older boys’ table, and – taking a page out of Velvet’s book on confrontations – slammed the volume down as hard as he could onto the wooden surface. But, as he was still a polite boy, he was sure to scream “excuse me” while he did so.

The two older boys stared at him, wide-eyed and silent, as the bang and scream reverbed off the library’s walls. Taking the opportunity for their undivided attention, Phi opened the book he’d brought over to the appropriate page and tapped a heading.

“Ptolemy VIII’s mass purges of Alexandrian intellectuals who opposed his seizure of the Egyptian throne, and the accompanying political turmoil in the Ptolemaic dynasty at the time, weakened the Library considerably,” Phi began, confidently. “This sent the Library into decline, well before Caesar’s invasion over a century later.”

The shock and confusion melted away from Sorey’s face. He reflected quietly on Phi’s thesis and gave an embarrassed little smile.

“...I guess I really did kind of get hung up on the dramatic events, huh?” he said sheepishly. “Man, with all the craziness going on during that period, it’s kind of a surprise the Library didn’t get set on fire sooner…”

“I don’t think there are enough time-travelling firetrucks in the world to drop on all the troublemakers back then,” Mikleo agreed. “But I’m guilty too, of only looking post-Siege, and at the Roman side of things.”

“And you’re both guilty of yelling in the library,” Phi added. “I could hear you all the way over there.

He pointed accusingly towards his table, which was still piled high with books. The two boys looked abashed.

“I’m so sorry,” Mikleo said. “We...we didn’t see you over there.”

Admittedly, from this table, it was quite hard to see where he’d been sitting, buried behind the books. Sorey, for his part, was already on his way over to Phi’s table. He looked over some of the volumes, interest clear on his face.

“Wow...no wonder you schooled us on this. I’ve been meaning to read some of these!”

“Well, don’t start with that one,” Phi said, gesturing to the volume in Sorey’s hand. “You’re not going to understand it without some background knowledge...”

When the time came for Phi to leave, he had lectured both boys quite thoroughly on history – and what’s more, he had quite completely forgiven them for their sins. Despite their...eccentricities, Sorey and Mikleo were very knowledgeable on ancient topics from around the world, and treated Phi as their equal -- not just some novelty to be humored and “corrected” on topics he knew like the back of his hand. They promised to be here again tomorrow, to talk more, and...and Sorey had talked about making an Ancient History Club, for the three of them, and that would just be too cool…

“It sounds like you had fun,” Velvet observed, after Phi had breathlessly explained to her all the above. “Give me your hand until we’re done crossing the street.”

Idly, Velvet wondered whether she should go through the trouble of inspecting these two new friends of Phi’s – and by “inspecting”, she meant putting the fear of god into them, and by the fear of god, she meant the fear of her.

Phi dutifully grabbed Velvet’s good hand and continued. “We’ll have official meetings once a week and unofficial get-togethers on the other days of the week, except Tuesdays, when Sorey has Track club and Mikleo goes to Home Ec club, but that day I think I can go to the library anyway and just plan our activities for the rest of the week…”

…but, honestly, they seemed like they were a perfect fit for Phi already. Velvet walked with him, hand in hand, and decided to hold off. At least for now.