#That time Knuckles got a half brother named Kneecaps

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Ahajsjjsjsjsjs I remember random things that happened in Archie Sonic that make me laugh

Like that one time Sonic had had ENOUGH with Zonic and started going off about how he's been through things Zonic would never understand because he doesn't know what it's like to lose your family and go through the trauma he did–

And then Zonic pulls up his visor and is like. Of course I understand, handsome. I'm you.

And Sonic's like "??" and Zonic just leaves

ㅤ

Or that time Elias was like I got it! I know how we can save my mother! If we just find the ring of acorns we can make a wish and–

And then after getting all hopeful finding out that the Ring of Acorns is already gone because Amy Rose found it and wished she could be a little older

ㅤ

Or the fuckin. Emotional whiplash of Sonic finding out in real time that the Tails he's been traveling with for months is a copy, and the copy to have a teary emotional disappearance and for Sonic to hold onto the original Tails. Like all in one page. Dude is freaking "I'm not real. I'll miss you, Sonic." And Sonic is like "What?" And then the clone disappears and Sonic is like "let's go home buddy you're okay we're okay" to the original Tails and no one talked about it again

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That one time Sonic touched his one billionth power ring and was transported to the dimension of the ancient walkers‚ a cryptic experience involving literal oceans of green chaos emeralds. And I'm pretty sure Sonic ruined his ONE chance to ask them a question because he asked if he could ask any question

ㅤ

That time all the freedom fighters were forced to go to school and Geoffrey was all excited because he loved dunking on Sonic and Sonic was sad to be separated from Tails at school. Meanwhile Tails was one upping Amy in class since, despite being physically older, still had to be put in the same class as him

ㅤ

That time Espio dared Vector to find a date for an event which I think was Knuckles' birthday, claiming that Vector was all talk when it came to women. And Vector spent an entire story trying to get a date, and he gets one (a worker at a food stand), only to never have a girlfriend after that and to be one of 2 people who are single parents in the future

ㅤ

That time Silver showed up in Moebius and used his psychokinesis to pause the fighting so he could ask who Sonic the Hedgehog was, only for Sonic and Scourge to both point to each other

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...That time the gang overdosed on LSD (Lemon Sundrop Dandelion) and Charmy almost died

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Okay okay last one. That time that Knuckles' Great Great Grandfather, Athair called him out for having no thoughts up there. "I think–" "Do you, young one?"

[bunnymajo]

As I’m reading through Archie Sonic, there’s a lot of echidnas to keep track and a handful of them are assholes if not kind of unremarkable, of so here’s a short list of S-rank echidnas

Lara-le (aka Knuckles Mom) a nice lady who ended up in an awful marriage and got the heck out of there. Has a lot of catholic mom energy but like, a progressive one that supports birth control, divorce & is cool with tattoos. There’s a moment where she tells Knuckles’ gal pal to not date her son and I thought this was cattiness but I’m choosing to believe she doesn’t want anyone to end up in the same abusive Guardian cycle that she did and is like “No. really. Don’t.”

Wynmacher (aka-Knuckles StepDad) - The husband Lara-le deserves, makes her breakfast and probably loves hanging out with her and shopping at Ikea and making Target runs with her. Dresses like a weird hippie doofus. A huge upgrade.

Kneecaps (Knuckles’ Half brother) a literal baby. Love his silly name. He had so much potential as character (who wouldn’t want some big brother Knuckles content)

Athair (I forget his relation but he’s part of the Knuckles clan too) - Just an old weird dude who lives in a cave and talks to spirits and is actually as helpful as the plot will allow. Tells Tails he’s the chosen one, like what a good job to have.

Julie-Su (Knuckles gal pal & love interest) - I haven’t really spent too much time with her but she’s kinda cool. I like that she’s pink so I can always differentiate her

[vanilla-bean-buttercream]

Think No Evil: Chapter 2

Parings: N/A Characters: Thomas Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Joan, Talyn Chapter warnings: Anxiety attacks, Crying Word Count: 1813

Summary:

The sides aren’t the only ones having problems with Logan’s illness.

Ao3 Link

<-Chapter 1

They knew Thomas would find out about Logan eventually. They didn’t expect, however, to be summoned all at the same time while trying to help him.

Thomas sat on his couch, his hands on his kneecaps and eyebrows twisted into confusion. He watched each side rise up, surprisingly quiet, and settled his gaze on Patton. The moral side tried to offer a smile, but even with his puffy eyes and stained cheeks, it was easy to tell something was very, very wrong.

“Patton, you okay?” Thomas asked.

Patton stiffened. He swallowed thickly and glanced at the other sides. “I’m… not kinda sorta really un-okay.”

“Okay,” Thomas rose a brow. He turned toward Roman and Virgil next.

Roman chuckled. “We don’t want to worry you Thomas-” Virgil snorted- “but Logan had a series of unfortunate events befall him.”

The choice of wording made Virgil’s eyes roll.

Thomas’s brows rose to his hairline. “Is he okay?”

“We think it’s just the flu,” Virgil responded. He looked ready to continue, but a quick glance at Patton stopped him in his tracks.

“Well, you guys have gotten sick before, so this shouldn’t be too much of a problem,” Thomas recalled. “Right?”

“Of course,” Roman replied. “Our pal Logan will be up on his feet and slaying with his words once again in no time.”

“Is there a reason you called us, kiddo?” Patton asked.

Thomas took a deep breath, held it, and harshly exhaled. “I just felt… off, is all. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Everything will be fine,” Roman said with a wink. “Now, if that’s all you needed us for, you really should start your day. You have some line readings to go over with Joan at their house, and I’d really, really appreciate it if you weren’t late.”

Thomas smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, thanks, Roman.”

“I’m looking forward to aiding you,” Roman spoke as he synced out.

Thomas looked between Patton and Virgil, both who were rather quiet. Virgil shrugged and gave a quick finger guns with a click of his tongue before syncing out. Patton drew a shaky breath, gave a nod and a smile, and left Thomas alone.

Well… that wasn’t awkward at all.

Thomas sighed and walked up his stairs. He stopped in his room and stared in his closet. Grabbing a pair of blue shorts and his Steven Universe shirt, he combed through his hair and set out to start his day.

The cold air bit into his bare limbs. He shivered and hurried to his car, hoping he wasn’t too late. His journey began with maybe one or two… or three missed turns, but he arrived at Joan’s house uninjured. When he stopped his car, he noted his phone shown two missed calls from Joan. They must’ve tried calling while he was driving. Thomas turned off his car, stepped out into the cold air again, and knocked on Joan’s door.

Joan opened it and let out a sigh of relief. “I was starting to get worried. You were supposed to get here an hour ago.” They surveyed Thomas’s outfit. “That’s a bit cold for winter, don’t you think?”

“Sorry, I got lost,” Thomas answered, ignoring the second part. Joan hummed in response and let Thomas in. They closed the door and watched Thomas sit on the couch.

“You okay, Thomas?” Joan asked.

Thomas looked up and smiled. “Yeah, why?”

“Well, because,” Joan let out a light laugh, “you always take your shoes off when you come over.”

“I do?” Thomas looked down. “Oh, yeah. Right! Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, don’t even worry about it,” Joan replied. They took a seat next to Thomas and cleared their throat. “Okay, so I thought we could start on page 12.” They looked up. “You did remember your script, right?”

Thomas’s eyes widened. “Oh! I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, I’ll share. It’s no big deal.” Joan sighed and adjusted their beanie. They handed half the book to Thomas and cleared their throat.

Roman squealed inside Thomas’s mind, ready to provide the voice and movements to accompany them. For a moment, Thomas let Roman take over, giving him a brilliant performance. Joan finished the reading and smiled.

“So, you think that’s okay?”

“Hmm?” Thomas looked up.

“The reading,” Joan replied. “You think that’s the route we should go in?”

“Oh, of course!” Thomas replied. “You were great.”

Joan smiled and mumbled, “Thanks.” They paused and took the book. Thomas quirked a brow.

“You okay?”

“I got a bit worried there for no reason, is all.” Joan answered. They looked at the time. “Talyn should be home for supper soon, if you want to stay over.”

“No, it’s fine,” Thomas replied. “I should probably get back anyway. I have an appointment later.”

“With Netflix?”

“You know I can’t cancel.”

Joan laughed and shook their head. “Whatever, Thomas, just be careful, okay?”

Thomas said a quick good-bye to Joan, hoped his car heaters would warm up fast, and started to drive home. He got to the stop sign at the end of the street and froze.

Home was that way.

Right?

Thomas looked left, right, and left again. He pulled slowly through the intersection, his nerves beginning to rise. Did… did he really just forget where he lived? How could he forget where he lived? Well sure, he only moved there a year ago, but still-

A horn blared as Thomas nearly ran a red light. He slammed on his breaks and sat there, panting in his seat. His heart pounded. Thomas scratched his hands through his hair.

“It’s okay,” he muttered to himself. “You’ll figure this out, Thomas.”  He gripped the steering wheel, watching his knuckles change from red to white, and waited for the light to change.

By the time Thomas finally stopped the car, he was out of breath. He wandered into the nearby park, his senses reeling, and rubbed his arms. Where was he? What was he doing here? Why was he outside in the cold with barely anything on?

Thomas collapsed in a park bench. He drew his legs close to his chest. He shivered and swallowed thickly. Easy, Thomas, take some deep breaths. It was going to be okay. It was going to be okay. It was going to be-

His phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and squinted at the screen. Joan’s face appeared, and Thomas could’ve cried. He swiped the green button to the left and answered it.

“Hey, Thomas-”

“Joan,” Thomas’s voice shook.

Joan’s questions laced with concern, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Thomas bit back a sob. “No. I don’t know where I am. I can’t even remember where I’m going.”

“Okay, take some deep breaths for me,” Joan replied. “You want me to come get you.”

“Please,” Thomas whimpered. He’s breathing shuddered. “Would you stay on the phone with me?”

A pause.

“Joan?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I was talking to Talyn. They’re going to drive me over so I can stay on the phone with you, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Thomas, can you describe where you are to me?”

Thomas looked around. The streetlights offered little support, but he could tell a city was nearby. He relayed how a highway towered two stories over to his left, and a statue of a girl and a dog was in the center of the park.

For a half hour, all Joan did was talk to Thomas. At first, Joan tried asking Thomas simple questions, like what his mom’s name was, how many brothers he had, where he went to school. Simple questions like that Thomas could answer.

However, when Joan tried to talk about their newest video, Thomas couldn’t recall anything. He didn’t remember he started doing YouTube full time, where he went on the tour, or what he was planning on doing when he got home.

Thomas tried to rub warmth back in his arms. He was sure his fingers froze to the phone by now since they refused to move.

“I think I see you,” Joan spoke. Thomas would’ve cried if he had anymore tears left. He heard a car door slam in the distance, and two people ran over to him. At least he still recognized Joan and Talyn.

“God, Thomas, what are you-” Talyn started, “Why didn’t you wait in your car?”

Thomas’s eyes widened. “I have a car?”

Talyn sucked in a breath and looked at Joan. The latter had a blanket in their hands and held it out. Thomas wrapped it around his body, now trembling from the cold. Joan and Talyn both lead him over to their car.

Thomas slid in the passenger’s seat of Joan’s car, and Talyn offered to drive Thomas’s car behind them. He rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window. Lights blurred in his vision. He took in a deep breath, thankful he wasn’t alone anymore, and allowed his eyes to close.

Joan shook his shoulder to wake him. He looked over and smiled.

“Hey, Joan. What are you doing here?”

Joan’s lips forced into a smile. “You’re staying the night at my house.”

“Oh?” Thomas looked up. “You have a nice house.”

“Thank you,” Joan unbuckled their seat belt and slid out of the car. They paused as Talyn pulled up behind him, slid out, and closed their door.

“How is he?”

Joan sighed. “I don’t really know. He’s just… really out of it. He fell asleep in the car; maybe he’s just really tired.”

“I hope so,” Talyn replied as they bit their nail. Joan watched Thomas step out of the car door and close it. He smiled at the two of them and waved. They both nervously waved back, and Talyn walked over to put their hand on Thomas’s back. Gently, they guided him toward the house. Joan unlocked the front door, and the trio stepped inside.

Thomas’s stomach broke the silence.

“Have you had anything to eat?” Talyn asked.

Thomas’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t remember.”

His stomach growled again.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Talyn lead him into the living room and sat him on the couch. Joan sat beside him, making sure he didn’t move, and waited for Talyn to return. They set a plate of fresh spaghetti in front of Thomas, and he did his best to eat it without making a mess. Through his meal, Joan and Talyn kept exchanging worried looks. Thomas would stop, stare off in the distance, then continue his work.

Talyn got the guest bedroom ready, and Joan loaned Thomas some spare pajamas to wear. They were a size too small, but at least they were warmer and more comfortable than summer clothes. They both tucked Thomas into bed.

“Night guys,” Thomas called out. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Talyn and Joan replied and shut the door, leaving Thomas to fall asleep on his own.

Chapter 3 ->

[whockeywhore]

Ten Day War 6

“C’mon, I got you.” I wrapped my arm around his shoulders as he navigated the halls of my building, stopping when I pointed to a door on the right. “This one?” 

“Yep. 4128, that’s me.” 

He set me down and I teetered on one foot, sliding my key into the lock before I pushed the door open. A blast of cool air hit me and Will set his hands on my waist, holding me close as we stepped in. I pointed to the couch and he lifted me with ease, slowly walking over and setting me down.

“Ice?” 

“Kitchen.” 

“No shit. Where’s the kitchen?” 

I laughed and pointed to the door behind him, reaching down to unbuckle my shoe as he turned. The door swung shut behind him and I took a second to panic, the swelling of my ankle much worse than I’d thought. A dark purple bruise was filling in at the base of my foot and tears stung my eyes when I tried to move it. 

“I couldn’t find any bags to put it in so I just grabbed this.” He held up a handle of vodka and wrapped it in a towel. “I took a sip first, just to- hey, hey what’s wrong?” 

He knelt in front of me and set the pack on my ankle, reaching forward with his free hand to wipe my eyes. His touch was gentle and sweet and I shook my head with a fresh round of tears. 

“Does it hurt that bad?” I nodded and swallowed hard, looking down at it with wide eyes. “You think we should go to the hospital?” 

He sat down on the ottoman and lifted it onto his lap, gently running his fingers along the side of my foot. He pinched at the joint and I winced, digging my nails into my palms. 

“That hurts.” 

“Sorry love... can you wiggle your toes?” I did and he looked up with a smile. “That’s good! That’s a good sign.” 

“Really?” 

“Yep, that means nothing’s broken, probably just a nasty sprain. Do you have a first aid kit?” 

I thought hard and shrugged,  nodding down the hall to my bedroom door. “If we do, it would be in my bathroom.” I pushed myself off of the couch and he caught me as I fell, scooping me into his arms again. His eyes met mine and he grinned, turning on his heel. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Second door on the left.” 

He carried me over and kicked the door open, his eyes wide as he took in the room. I followed his stare and wiggled out of his grasp, hopping into the bathroom on my good foot. I dropped down to scan the cabinet for the first aid kit. It was buried behind a box of tampons and my makeup bag and I pulled it free, righting myself and hopping back out. 

“Stop that!” 

“What?” He was holding up a pair of my jeans with wide eyes, a few other pair sitting freshly folded on the bed. 

“Stop folding my clothes!” 

He dropped them and held his hands up in surrender, a smile playing on his face as he surveyed the mess. “I’m sorry, it just... it looks like a bomb went off in your closet.” 

“Yeah, it’s kind of a mess. Work’s just been so crazy and the wedding planning- I need to clean.” 

“I’ll say.” 

I scoffed and threw the kit at him, dropping onto the bed with a grunt. My thigh was cramping from so much use and I started kneading it with my knuckles as I watched him. He chewed on the inside of his lip for a second before dropping down in front of me, pulling my foot into his lap. 

“Do you mind? I can do it if you just tell me what to do.” He shook his head and pulled an ace bandage out, keeping his eyes on my ankle. I watched him wrap my ankle gently, his voice low when he spoke. 

“Is that too tight?” I shook my head and watched him pin it, his hands lingering on my calf for a long moment. He cleared his throat and stood up, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “It should be snug, just to brace the joint until it heals. If your toes start to go numb, we need to loosen it.” 

I lifted my foot and wiggled my toes in his direction, smiling up at him. “Looks like we’re good. Where’d you learn all this stuff?” 

“The trainers we have are pretty great. They explain everything as they do it.” 

“That’s really cool.” 

“Yeah, it’s nice.” 

We both fell quiet and I looked down at my ankle, sitting up to put a bit of pressure on it. The sting had lessened into a dull ache and I pushed up to try and stand, frowning when pain shot up my leg. 

“How’s it feel?” 

“Not too bad actually.” 

“You know I can see you, right?” 

I chuckled and shook my head. “Hurts like a bitch, alright?” I took a few slow steps around the room and groaned. “This sucks!”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be sore for a while. Is there any way you can keep off of it?” I thought about it and shrugged, frowning again. “I have a pair of crutches you can use.” 

“Will, I think they’ll be a bit too big.” I stepped up to him and looked up, pointing out our height difference. He towered over me and looked down, blond hair falling in his face. 

“They were my sister’s.” 

“Your sister? The eleven year old? She’s like three feet tall.” 

“So are you.” 

I punched him in the shoulder and threw myself off balance, squealing as I started to fall backwards. He reached out and caught me, his hands on my wrists to pull me close. I laughed and leaned against his chest, shaking my head as I steadied myself. 

“You’ve got to stop doing that.”

“Punching you?” 

“No, falling. What are you gonna do when nobody’s here to catch you?” 

I looked up and met his eyes, raising an eyebrow when he stared back. “Are you saying you’re not gonna catch me anymore?” 

“I’m gonna have to go home sometime, Reese.” I stuck out my bottom lip in a pout and he reached up to run his thumb across it, shooting me a mocking grin as he did. “You know that doesn’t work anymore.” 

“Since when?” I asked, cocking my head to the side to study him. He held my gaze for a long minute before cracking a smile, his eyes dropping to my lips briefly. It send butterflies through me and I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of his hands on me. 

The slam of the front door echoed through the apartment and we both jumped, stepping away from each other in an instant. I’d forgotten about my ankle and I cried out, dropping onto the bed quickly. 

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” 

William dropped his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck, sitting back against the dresser again. 

“I’m fine, Nate.” 

“Where are you?” 

“We’re back here.” 

His voice grew louder as he drew near, poking his head in the doorway with raised brows. “We?” 

I cleared my throat and nodded to Will, looking up at Nate with a smile. “Nathan, this is Will. Will, Nathan.” 

The two exchanged a handshake before Nate set his hands on his hips. “What uh, what are you two doing back here?” 

“Looking for the first aid kit. Will wrapped my ankle for me.” 

He softened when he noticed my bandaged foot, dropping next to me and pulling it onto his lap. I winced as he did and he ran his fingers over it, looking up at me with wide eyes. 

“What happened honey?” 

I shrugged, “I fell in the park.” 

“The park- I thought you were going out with a friend.” I nodded and eyed Will,  shifting uncomfortably where he stood. Nate followed my eyes and cleared his throat. “Gotcha. Well thank you so much for taking care of her. She’s not too graceful, huh?” 

“Never has been.” 

“What? That is so not true!” 

Will cocked his head to one side and smiled, glancing down at the scar on my knee. “You tell your fiance about how you got that scar?” 

I gasped and sat back in defeat as Nate looked between us.

“What? What scar?” I pointed to the long dark mark that split my kneecap in half, running my finger over it as the memory washed over me. Nate squinted at it before leaning back. “Huh, I guess I never noticed it. What happened?” 

 “She-” 

“Shut up Will!” 

He broke out laughing and I groaned, watching him gather himself. “She tried to... she busted her knee climbing out of bed.” 

“I got caught in the sheets!” 

“She flew man. Her knee hit the table and her face hit the ground.” 

“William, it wasn’t that funny!” I tried to scold him but failed, unable to keep from giggling. We shared a moment with Nathan between us and both sobered when he cleared his throat. 

“You fell out of bed?” I stood and wrapped my arm around his waist, dismissing the look he gave me a second later. “You- you two were in bed together?” 

“This was a long time ago, Nate. What, it had to be-” 

“Seven years ago.” 

I looked at Will and bit down on my lip, grateful for his intervention, and he nodded. 

Nate took a deep breath and looked between us, slinging an arm over my shoulder before he spoke. “So you two go way back, huh?” 

“Nathan, this is- you remember Alex? This is his brother.” 

“Alex... yes. The hockey guy?” 

“He plays, yes. But do you remember when we went to the lake for New Year’s? That was his family we went with.” 

I could see the realization dawn on his and he dipped his head. “Ahh, gotcha! Were you there? I’m so sorry if i forgot-” 

“Oh no, I wasn’t there. I don’t live here anymore.” 

“Will plays for Toronto.” 

Nathan’s eyes widened and he looked to me, speaking through clenched teeth. “This is the Toronto guy?” 

“Yes. This is my friend William.” 

“The friend you used to... okay well, it was nice meeting you William.” 

Will took that as a cue to leave, shoving his hands in his pocket as he turned to go. I called his name before he dissappeared and he turned back, eyes meeting mine. 

“Thank you. For taking care of me.” 

He gave me a sad smile and nodded, pointing to my foot. “Hope it feels better.” 

[xdeusxmachinax]

Hey, so how man muse do you have on this blog, do you have list for us to look at. (Sorry if I'm ask a question that been already asked before.)

*cracks knuckles*

Here you go, friend.

The Heralds of Unicron are Inhabitants of Unicron who have consumed Anglomois and have been transformed by it, remade to better serve Unicron. As such, they are more dangerous than civilians. Canon characters are indicated with an *. ‘Open to Multishipping’ means that although a character is in an established relationship, alternate universes mean they are still available for your muse to fall in love with. Assume everyone is available, only a handful aren’t.

Airaid: A young low-ranking seeker with an almost preternatural ability to foresee attacks. He can often foretell the time; place; and source of enemy assaults; up to eight weeks in advance. Airaid uses this talent to ensure his team takes measures to prevent the enemy from attacking; sometimes before they choose to do so. Airaid sees this precognition as a sign he is ‘blessed’; and loves lording this fact over his fellow Spawns. Transforms into a Saab Jas 39 Gripen. Approach with Caution.

Alternis: When not donning the ceremonial robes and mask of the Confessor; this priest of Unicron spends most of his time counseling others. Alternis seeks to offer comfort and peace to his comrades; and is always willing to listen. He takes great pride iin his collection of Olfactory Therapy paraphernalia.  Formerly a Decepticon slave named Turntable. Adopted Father to the Blader femme Glory. Transformation cog was removed by the D.J.D. Safe to Approach.

Anarchy: The result of breeding between Oblivion and Sideways; Anarchy is a young virus femme just learning the ropes when it comes to wreaking havoc. She’s less a warrior and more of a mischief make. Anarchy spends most of her time training, and can usually be found beside Overkill, who she sees as a best friend. She’s got a long way to go before she can call herself a herald. Currently, she’s training at the Autobot Academy on Cybertron. Transforms into an F1 Electric Formula Car.  Safe to approach.

*Angela: De Facto leader of the Sparkbots, this lion-hearted minibot loves her job. Whether its scouting Anglomois or misleading servants of Primus, Angela will not give up until her task is complete. Confident, strategic and energetic, she’s having more trouble settling into a peaceful life than the other Sparkbots. When she isn’t using her Kissplayer powers to help fellow heralds, she usually spends her time in an autocare shop. Safe to approach.

*Antagony: Although conceived as a gift for Shokaract, Antagony has built a life for herself outside of the conqueror’s shadow. This High Priestess of Unicron has devoted herself to the art and science of causing pain. She takes cold pleasure in torturing enemies and allies alike, and few of her lovers survive the experience. While her sadism makes her a skilled warrior, her true talent lies in time travel. No bot is more suited to enduring the physical and psychological tolls caused by defying time and space. While she and Shokaract are not mates, they have been seen together, and more than once Shokaract has emerged from the encounter with new scars.

Apocryph: The shattered glass version of an alternate Oblivion; Apocryph is everything the Hand of Sorrow isn’t. Open minded;  passionate; and slicker than an oil spill; Apocryph’s sole concern is his own well-being. He has no trouble using and discarding friends; lovers; and even family for personal gain. Incredibly vain and prone to eroticism. Approach with caution.

Assassin: The weakest member of the Annihilation Armed Forces; Assassin has a tendency of shying away from social situations and prefers the company of her team mates, Hazard and Nuke. She is generally good-natured; if not awkward; but make no mistake; She trained under Drancon; and is one of the most lethal ladies on Unicron. Do not be fooled by her small size. Transforms into a Lauge Jensen motorcycle.

Beatdown: Also known as ‘D.J B.D’ Beatdown is one of the largest inhabitants of Unicron; and a devastating instrument of destruction when on the battlefield. While known for his size and strength; Beatdown’s true pride and joy is his music. He can record sounds such as crushing metal; a flickering spark; and the sound of a laser blast cutting a bot in half; and edit these noises to form a hit song. He manages the unicronian Radio station ‘The Scream.’ Transforms into a German ‘Ratt’ tank.

Bloodshed: The oldest inhabitant of Unicron; Bloodshed served alongside the fallen during the war between Chaos and Order. During the peace; he has retired to a life of hermitage; locking himself in his private chambers. Very little is known about this illusive spawn. Approach with Caution.

*Bludgeon (Armada) Once a low ranking genericon, this tank mech discovered a new lease on life when given his skeletal pretender shell. A Master of Metallikato who values combat and mayhem above all other pleasures. He’s rumored to have some semblance of honor, but he denies this claim. Rescued from certain death with his Amica Enura Dirge and Thunderwing. Approach with caution.

Coeus: A Prosecutor sub-species of Quintesson; Coeus serves as the primary medic on Unicron. As one of the oldest spawns; he is a font of knowledge and advice; alternating between friendly and fatherly to flirtatious and playful. Fearless, loyal and reliable, nothing comes between Coeus and his patients. Some say he’s fought the god of Death hand to hand.He enjoys teaching a sexual education class on the weekends. Does not Transform. Safe to approach

*Dark Scorponok: Once an undead terrorcon enslaved to his hunger; Scorponok is not the mech used to be. As his broken mind was being pieced back together; he had time to reflect on the past, and much like his master before him, decided to make a change for a better future. A natural born leader; Scorponok has dedicated himself to protecting weaker spawn. He has found a like-minded ally in Oblivion. As a terrorcon, Scorponok possesses the ability to sense energon deposits, although he has little use for this talent. Safe to approach.

Deathblow: One of the few law enforcement officers on Unicron; Deathblow is powerful; brutal and relentless. He’s willing to tear apart a thousand criminals if it would mean protecting a single ‘innocent’ and with a butcher knife nearly as large as his body; he’s more than capable of doing so. An iron will and almost complete lack of fear make him one of the most dangerous mechs on Unicron. Conjunx Endura to Bluemoon; adoptive father to Reaper, Sire to Warrant. Transforms into an anti-riot vehicle. Approach with Caution.

*Dirge (Armada) Pessimistic and stubborn, Dirge spends most of his time moping in the darkest corners of Unicron. He prefers odd jobs to ending world, and avoids acting as Herald when he can. Dirge is certain that he and his comrades are dead and living in some form of purgatory. In spite of his sour demeanor; Dirge is not without compassion. Rescued with Thunderwing and Bludgeon. Approach with Caution.

*Drancon: One of Unicron’s failed attempts to create a better life form than his brother. This reptile-insectoid mutant’s cloaking ability only makes him better at his occupation, and he has but one job. Killing. He is Unicron’s executioner, a master assassin. Once he has his eyes on a target, the only resolution is death. However, Drancon is not heartless. He considers himself a warrior of balance, and values life. For every throat slit, a tree should be planted. For every kneecap broken, a stray animal fed. In this way, sins and sainthood are counter-balanced. He is the most peaceful and balanced among the three siblings. Changes into a lizard-dragonfly hybrid.  Approach with caution

*Elephorca: The firstborn among the outcasts, and the cruelest. He is a beast who would slaughter every life form on Unicron to get the recognition he feels he deserves. He considers himself Unicron’s son, torn between a murderous hatred toward his creator and a desperate yearning for his approval. He feels he should be Unicron’s chosen herald, and not banished to the bowels of the chaos-bringers planet form. His only real redeeming factor is an affection toward his siblings; Ratorata and Drancon. He sees them as being in the same boat as he is. His hobbies include heavy drinking and swimming. Changes into a woolly mammoth-killer whale fuzor. Do not approach.

Farcry: Farcry is a rare sort of person on Unicron. He’s someone who doesn’t want people to die. This minibot has a huge heart, and an even larger responsibility. When the time comes to harvest planets allied to Unicron, Farcry must travel ahead of his master and warn them of his coming. Once he’s passed on this message, the real work begins. Farcry has a special talent; in his alt mode he can alter his mass to carry thousands of life forms. It isn’t easy keeping an entire population calm enough to choose who lives and who dies, but with a religious devotion toward both Primus and Unicron, as well as a strong, gentle soul, Farcry is up to the task of guiding others through the apocalypse. Fond of singing. Transforms into a cybertronian escape pod.   Safe to approach.

* Galvatron II: In his own time, Galvatron is triumphant. Earth has been conquered, Rodimus Prime is dead, and Cybertron is no more. Galvatron traded his freedom for Cybertron. For the most part, he was content. But his time- his reality- is no more. Betrayed by the Unicron he once served, Galvatron is more than willing to take his revenge on this new Chaos-bringer.  He’s found somewhat kindred spirits in Elephorca and Shockaract. Do not approach.

Hazard: Hazard was born for one purpose and one purpose only. Wreaking havoc. Built from the remains of one of Unicron’s most brutal heralds, Hazard is seen as a weapon of last resort. Incredibly strong and completely without fear, she is a walking biological weapon, pockets in her body carry live cultures of Cosmic rust, seeds of Cybercrosis, Cybonic plague viruses, and a million other nightmarish ills. If she ever needs to use one of the diseases at her disposal, a tank on her back allows her to isolate and filter a germ or virus into a gas or liquid. Hazard remains undefeated, but should she ever face an enemy stronger than herself, she can detonate her spark, unleashing enough pestilence to wipe out a galaxy.. Leader of the Annihilation Armed Forces. Transforms into a tanker truck. Approach with extreme caution.

*High Wire (Aurex 604.24 Gamma) Long ago, High Wire was a guardian, Combining with his team mates Sureshock and Grindor to form Perceptor; he stood bravely against anyone that would threaten the weak…until he came to his senses! Great power has been known to corrupt, and few powers are greater than the ability to transport people through time. High Wire pledged his allegiance to Unicron, and his first offering was the sparks of his former team-mates. When his universe began to collapse around him, High Wire stowed away inside Megabolt’s cockpit during the Exodus. As such, he is one of the very few Minicons to survive multiverse travel. Power-hungry and manipulative, he’s quickly making a name for himself among the spawn. Approach with extreme caution.

*Hook: A ghennexian criminal reformatted into a time traveling herald. After being killed by Galvatron, Unicron gathered his remains and resurrected him. Strong, silent, and completely devoted to his team mates Line and Sinker. Slowly, he’s rediscovering the joys of free will.  Approach with caution.

Iapax: (available for multiship) Timid in spite of his massive size, Iapax is a non-combatant who prefers to hide and provide energon for the real warriors. He’s sweet-natured and nurturing, if not slow-minded. Iapax adores the movie ‘The Wizard of Oz.’ Transforms into a Wind Turbine. Conjunx Endura to Mangle.

Ion: A clone of Animated Perceptor, determined to prove himself superior to the original. An expert mathmatician and one of the foremost scientists on Unicron. Transforms into a microscope. Safe to approach.

Kortex: Son of Kranix the Linthonian. A survival specialist and genius. Although he knows how to pick his fights, bitterness and an air of superiority tend to get him in trouble. Transforms into a go-cart like machine. Approach with caution.

*Line: A ghennexian criminal reformatted into a time traveling herald. After being killed by Galvatron, Unicron gathered his remains and resurrected him. A surprisingly gentle soul who is cautiously interested in the worlds around him. Courageous and eager to please his Teammates, Hook and Sinker. Line is haunted by a past he can’t remember. Safe to Approach.

*Long Haul (Viron 704.31 Epsilon) Gods, multiverses, Chosen Ones, fallen primes; honestly, it’s all too much for Long Haul. He could care less about the intricate religions surrounding Unicron Culture, and he doesn’t much distinguish between one Unicron and another. He just wants to build and be left alone. Maybe if he keeps his helm down and does as he’s told, he won’t have to worry about being reduced to a drone. Truth be told, he’s just happy he never has to become Devestator again. Safe to approach.

Lowlife: (available for multiship.) Anvil has always been dumb muscle for one evil power or another, before Unicron, it was the senate.. Killed alongside his brother by Optimus Prime during an assignment, He woke up on a mortician’s slab, having been painstakingly put back together by Syphon and resurrected with Angolomois. Syphon intended on having a personal bodyguard and servant, and renamed his catch ‘Lowlife’. With his brother dead and the Senate not registering on his com-signal, Lowlife wasn’t opposed to his new lot in life; it wasn’t that much different from his old job, and the fuel was a lot better. Years of loyal protection were rewarded, and in time, Lowlife went from bodyguard to Conjunx Endura. Lowlife is a patient and dedicated housekeeper, but remorseless when it comes to his position as a member of Unicron’s Onslaught Force. Conjunx Endura to Syphon, and adopted sire to a female antibody named Sylph. Currently caring for Syphon’s child, Macabre. Monoformer. Approach with caution.  

Mangle: (available for multiship) Once a mere scrap sorter for the Decepticon army of the Taran Universe, Mangle always dreamed of something more. That something more was an ambitious step up from ‘taking dead bots apart’ to ‘taking live bots’ apart, and studying medicine was the quickest way to get what he wanted. His sadistic experiments could hardly be called medicine, but Unicron saw enough potential in his bloodthirst to recruit him. His official title is ‘Medic’ but many suspect the real reason Unicron keeps Mangle around is to learn from him. Just how far can a Cybertronian body be pushed before the mind breaks? Mated to Iapax. Do not approach.

*Megabolt (Viron 704.31 Epsilon) It has been said that the two most destructive forces in the universe are a Unicronian and a Politician. Megabolt is both. he uses his charisma to lure non-cybertronians into seeing him as a savior. He takes great pleasure in their expressions of horror when he wipes them out. An unrepentant speciesist, he has little interest in integrating with Darkhaven’s melting pot culture. Transforms into a transport ship.

Mina: A female linthonian originally intended for breeding, Mina’s intelligence and charm quickly lead to her becoming a social mediator. Her warm tone and mastery of multiple languages can stop even rampaging spawn, and her warmth is equally matched by her courage. Often found with her best friend Bluemoon. Currently raising a youngling she’s debating naming after her grandsire, Arbulus. Safe to approach.

Noose: A construction mech and skilled executioner. Member of the Controlled Chaos task force. Brutal and professional. Soft-spoken. Sire to Spector.

Nuke: Once a slave in a Decepticon comfort station, Nuke’s hatred toward primus festered more with each indignity inflicted on his body and soul. When his health failed him, he was discarded by his masters; left to rot on a barren asteroid. Hazard happened upon him, and brought him back to Unicron. The Chaos bringer repaired his broken body, replacing his rotted spark with a nuclear reactor. Reborn as a spawn, Nuke was more than willing to join the suicidal Annihiliation Armed Forces. Time has a way of healing old wounds, and recently Nuke has managed to put his past behind him, serving as a surrogate big brother to new spawn and fellow outcasts. Carrier to Airraid. Transforms into an Avro Vulcan. Organics do not approach.

Oblivion: (available for multiship) Unicon’s Hand of Sorrow; Second in command to the chaos-bringer. His cold, judgmental personality masks an inner kindness. Fiercely protective of those under him, and bystanders he deems innocent. Unquestioningly loyal to the lord of Chaos.  Looks a lot like the Megatron of the Animated universe. Sire to Anarchy, and lifemate to an Autobot intelligence officer named Cyberwave. Wields a scythe that can open portals to the void. A skilled warrior and telekenetic. Transforms into a luxury hovercraft. Approach with Caution

Overkill: An allspark infused Sharkicon; He is six times the size of a normal member of his species, with a sleeker, more reptilian alt mode. He is the muscle of Oblivion’s team; as well as a geological scout.  Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but wisdom and intelligence are two separate things. Transforms into a modified Sharkticon.  Approach with caution.

.

*Ramjet:(Cybertron) Victimized by elder gods and discarded by his own Unicron after failing in a resurrection ploy, Ramjet was retrieved from the dead space between dimensions. With his own sense of honor and a quiet dignity, he seems intrigued by the concept of spawn and cybertronian living in balance. His sanity is slowly recovering, and after eons of loneliness he relishes meeting new people. His greatest weakness is Minicons; he’d collect them all if he could.   Sire to a triplechanger named Trinity with a second youngling on the way. Transforms into a jet. Safe to approach.

*Reptilion: Freedom is a daily struggle for this Unicronian General. Once a peerless scholar and spacebridge engineer, Reptilion spent eons enthralled to an alternate Unicron. Every breath, every meal, every choice or action dictated by his master, Reptilion was little more than a puppet. Now that his will has been returned to him, Reptilion finds daily life overwhelming. Unicron seems to consider him a worthy investment, and has commanded Drancon to help in Reptilion’s path to self-sufficiency.

*Ratorata: another failed attempt at creation, Ratorata is a femme who looks out for herself above all else. She knows a hideous face can be overcome, especially with the right curves….and after all, a hole is just a hole in the dark. She uses the fact that she is a rare female among unicronians to get what she wants, and what she wants most is wealth. Gold, silver, jewels, she covers her grotesque body in the finest jewelry. Love is fleeting, and a males loyalty fickle. But diamonds last forever. Her greed and manipulation hide a bitter loneliness and self loathing that she will not reveal…not even to her brothers. Changes into a lionfish/wasp beast. Approach with caution

Razorclaw:

Shokaract:

*Sideways(Armada) : Adopted from the Armada Universe. Sideways is a living computer Virus who feeds on spark energy, a veritable Incubus to Cybertronian kind. He’s a loner who tends to keep to himself. Sideways is a martial arts master with the ability to alter his form as he sees fit.  He can take on the appearance of any bot he has mated with. Oblivion trusts him in spite of his treacherous history, and the two danced around the idea of a political marriage for years. In the end, the two settled on being Amica Endura. Currently, he’s focused on repairing his relationship with his daughter; Anarchy. Transforms into a motorcycle.Do not approach

Spector: The son of a hymnist and herald, Spector was born to serve Unicron. The death of his carrier at the hands of the DJD shook his faith, and his loyalty to Unicron is questionable. Combative and bitter, Spector has painted himself to resemble a corpse, his coloring reflecting his outlook on life. Cold shades of gray. Transforms into a jet. Amiaca endura with Airraid.

*Star Dust: For a Chaos Spawn, Star Dust is oddly obsessed with order. A time and place for all things, she keeps the Sparkbots on schedule and ensures things in Darkhaven run smoothly. Although Strong-willed, honest, and dedicated, she has difficulty expressing emotions, and is always reluctant to use her Kiss Player power. Safe to approach.

Switchblade: a group of five Stentarians. His ability to transform into any possible tool makes him useful to the heralds of Unicron. In exchange for his service, he is free of his races sixteen million year old war, and can finally put his feet up and relax. Friendly and inquisitive. A bit of a flirt. Safe to approach.

Syphon:(available for multiship)  Long ago, Syphon was on the right path in life. Apprentice to one of the best morticians in Kalis, Syphon proved to be adept at repairing corpses, slicing away unpleasantness, repairing mortal wounds, restoring the dead to a state that would bring their loved ones peace. After receiving a head injury he began to enjoy the act of cutting much more than restoring. Addicted to the fumes released from corpses, Syphon began tracking down and murdering mechs, the city of Helex his stomping grounds. With his scalpel set his preferred weapon, he became known as the Helex Hollower. Unicron saw potential in the  serial killer and recruited him. Now, Syphon harvests organs to repair damaged unicronians, indulging in his addiction and serving to help save lives. When not in the grip of psychosis, he’s outgoing, playful, intelligent and coquettish. Adopted sire to the female Antibody Sylph, and carriet to a young seeker named Macabre. Conjunx Endura to Lowlife. Has a tendency to listen to violent music during battles. Transforms into an Audi. Approach with extreme caution.

*Tarantulas : (Beast Wars) (Available for multiship) plucked from his own timeline, Tarantulas now serves as a scientist and medical officer to Unicron’s heralds. With a brand new lair and all the cybertronian flesh he can eat, Tarantulas accepts his slavery only half begrudgingly. He’s made something of a life for himself with a day job as Darkhaven’s top food critic.He’s even settled down enough to start a family. At the end of the day, he has a young son at home waiting for him. He’s named his heir Hivemind Tripredius Mesothelae, and hopes to present him to the Tripredicus council when the time is right. Transforms into a female Tarantula.  Do not approach.

The Fallen: Once a demon of legendary evil, old age and peace have blunted his claws; and where his flames once blazed, now they smoulder.  Experienced and intelligent  Safe to Approach.

*Thrust: (armada) (available for Multiship) Years of disregard by Megatron means Thrust has no loyalty left for Cybertron. Then again, dying at the hands of an alternate Unicron hasn’t helped cement his devotion to this Unicron. Cynical, by-the-book and experienced, Thrust’s skills as a tactician have only sharpened with age, and he currently spends most of his free time as a teacher, passing his knowledge onto the next generation. . His minicon Inferno is never far away. Approach with caution.

Thundershot:  Sweep number 262; adopted after finding his way to Unicron through a wormhole. Thundershot is painfully upbeat in spite of being used as target practice. He often offers a shoulder to lean on, or a friendly smile. A rare bit of brightness among the darkness of chaos. Transforms into a spacecraft.  Safe to approach

.*Thunderwing: (Armada) A paragon, considered the ideal herald. Charming, witty, friendly toward his own kind, and a killing machine in battle. He is both Herald and High Priest. Sire to many young and a favorite among breeders. Was rescued alongside Dirge and Bludgeon. Safe to approach.

Tremor:

Tritone:

*Zangetsu: Zangetsu would be the most valuable mind on Unicron, if his crippling shyness didn’t prevent him from sharing his knowledge. An expert at areial attacks, Zangetsu would rather make himself useful on the battlefield than try to make friends. Quiet and capable, he’d be the most useful of the Sparkbots, if he could just bring himself to utilize his Kiss Player abilities. He’s found a kindred spirit in fellow ninja Bludgeon, and can usually be found hiding somewhere in the Pretender’s chambers. Approach with caution.

[eirabach]

This Be the Verse

Angsty modern AU Lieutenant Duckling for a CS Writers’ Hub prompt. Probably the most pretentious thing I’ve ever written, and that really is saying something.

With apologies to Philip Larkin and dedicated to Sascha, wherever he may be.

1.8k. T for language.

She doesn’t really notice him until he starts bleeding.

She’s used to keeping her head down, always the new kid, always the weird kid with the hand me down clothes and a permanent scowl.

She’s never had time to worry about the other weird kids, not when her own school career has been punctuated by cruelty and laughter, and bruises that bloom like flowers, hidden under too long sleeves.

He’s probably the weirdest of them all. Scrawny and pale, with lank dark hair that hangs in his face and eyes like shards of glass. Nobody seems to know where he’s come from - not from round here and that’s for sure - his accent sharp and bitter and different, just like him.

The kids see difference and they sneer at it. Some half-wild feral boy, unloved and unwanted, his clothes half rags and his cheeks hollow; easy pickings for the gangs of roving jocks with their sly, piggy eyes and their whey protein muscles.

It only takes one of them to hold him, class rings digging into thin shoulders, while three more thump and pound and laugh and holler.

It only takes one punch back to stop them laughing.

So it is that the first time Emma Swan really notices Killian Jones, he’s bleeding from a slash on his cheek and sporting a split lip, his eye purpling as his chest heaves and he spits bile on the floor at his feet.

But more than that, more than gore and bravery and sheer stupidity against the odds, she notices fury.

After all, she knows what it’s like to be angry.

–

“Why’d you do it?” she asks afterwards as she dabs blood from his chin, his tormentors dispatched with the careful placement of her knees and dire warnings about being beaten by a girl. “Did you think it would make them respect you? Cause let me tell you, kid. It doesn’t.”

“Doesn’t it?” he asks, teeth gritted as she reaches the cut on his lip. “They didn’t appear keen to suffer your disapproval.”

“I’ve been around longer,” she says with a shrug, leaning back to admire her handiwork. “They know I can handle myself.”

“I can handle myself,” he says petulantly.

Emma hands him the bloodied tissue, her mouth twisting into a smile.

“Funny way of showing it,” she says.

He stares at her, his eyes blue as cornflowers now they’re not narrowed in anger, and she thinks she sees his lips twitch as if he’s considering a smile of his own.

When he leaves, he doesn’t say thank you, and she doesn’t say goodbye.

–

She notices him more after that, even though he rarely looks her way. Rarely looks anyone’s way, as far as she can tell, instead wandering the halls like a rain cloud, only stopping to scrawl furiously in some dog eared notebook or start fights he never seems to win.

She’s never sure if he really wants to, but then she’s not in a position to ask. Not when she’s got her head down just as far, her own personal cloud always threatening to burst just over her head.

When he does look her way, he’s bleeding again.

“What are you in for?” he asks as they sit side by side outside the principal’s office, the knuckles of his left hand swollen and bloody. “You look pretty good - should I see the other guy?”

She shrugs, leaning her head back against the wall to examine a water stain on the ceiling.

(Looks like Michigan, she thinks. She’s never been there. Maybe that’s next. Maybe it’s a sign.

Maybe it’s just a burst pipe.

Maybe that’s the sign.)

“Katie MacVee lost her cellphone.”

His eyebrow ticks up.

“And you’re accused of stealing it?”

She smiles, rolling her head to the side to look at him.

“Not yet.”

“Do you get accused of theft a lot?” he asks, sounding almost affronted on her behalf.

“Only sometimes,” she sighs, and then laughs shortly. “Sometimes I just get caught.”

When he smiles, he’s almost beautiful, and when he’s called through, she almost misses him.

–

He writes poetry, the type that doesn’t rhyme, and she pretends to scoff - he hasn’t been to class in a month, he’s not fooling her with his tortured intellectual act - but it speaks to her in a way she can’t express except through the crumpling of the paper when he tries to pull it back, the smudges of ink on her fingertips as she refuses to let go.

They’re like that, the two of them. Drawn together although they’ve only ever known how to be alone. She, quite literally abandoned and unwanted from the off, and he the feckless, useless second son of a yet more feckless father.

They curl up under the bleachers, rain dripping down the backs of their necks, taking damp puffs on clove cigarettes as they hide from a world that doesn’t care to look.

He’s quiet, mainly, so she bitches about her foster father and picks at the scabs on her forearms. He um‘s and ah’s and threatens to kill him in all the right places, until eventually she’s staring up at him, her face slack from shock.

“No one’s ever done that before.”

“Done what?”

“Listened.”

He takes a deep drag, blowing rings that rise above their heads, sooty halos for nobody’s angels.

“Nobody ever does,” he says.

“Except you.”

When she kisses him he tastes like smoke, and she wonders what it feels like to burn.

–

She knows it’s his birthday, finds out when she’s stuck in the principal’s office again, abandoned while her case worker pleads for another chance, another semester, that she already knows she won’t get.

The file isn’t even hidden, lying out on the desk like that so if she peeks - Killian and troubled and alone and just like her - if she peeks no one can blame her.

(They always do, anyway, so why does it matter?)

There’s no time and there’s never money, so the best she can manage is sneaking through the library stacks, keeping half an eye on the librarian as she runs her finger down the spines of books only he’d ever checked out. She finds her prize, tucking it under her jumper with its security tag hanging limply from the underside of the shelf, and wraps it in the bathroom with two sheets of an assignment she’s never going to hand in.

“They fuck you up, your mum and dad,” she tells him when she meets him by the lockers, thrusting the package into his hand with a hasty, half cocked smile. “That’s how it goes isn’t it?”

He catches sight of her caseworker hovering over her shoulder, the cardboard box at her feet and her sour expression, and let’s his fingers linger on hers, pressing them down into the book as though she might yet leave an imprint behind.

(She never does.)

“That’s how it goes,” he says.

It always is. It always, always is.

When she leaves, he doesn’t say thank you, and she doesn’t say goodbye.

–

She doesn’t think of poetry for years.

Not during the next move, nor the one after that. Not even when Ruth Nolan finally makes her her own, giving her a new name and a new brother and an education she actually cares about.

She think about him, though. He’s a hazy memory in damp leather who escorts her through smoky bars. The invisible presence by whom she judges a bad boyfriend whose kisses never taste right. Two bad boyfriends. Six. Ten.

She mentions it one night to her brother’s wife - the teenage crush with the bloody knuckles and a mind like quicksilver.

“Can’t you find him?” Mary Margaret asks, her romantic soul soaring at the thought of a reunion that fills Emma with dread.

“Can’t remember his name,” she answers, shrugging off the lie and sipping her wine.

Killian, she remembers, Killian Jones. Killian Jones who was perfect when no one else was, who thought she was perfect when the world crumbled at her feet. How many could there be? How hard could he be to find?

(How much would it hurt to fail. How much would it hurt to see him turn away.)

She finds people for a living, but she never finds him.

–

The library is an accident.

She’s chasing a skip through slicing rain  when she slips and falls, leaving half the skin of her kneecap on the sidewalk. She hobbles through the nearest open door, spitting invectives as she drips onto the marble floors.

“Are you alright?” somebody whispers, and she looks up to meet the soft brown eyes of a young woman who sits behind the huge mahogany desk, tiny on her upholstered throne.

“I’m alright,” Emma says, still favouring her uninjured leg. “Could I?”

She gestures towards one of the long tables set between the stacks, and the woman smiles, nodding her permission as Emma gingerly settles herself to examine her knee.

“Yeah, but did you see him?”

“Of course I saw him, I thought I was going to faint.”

“That neck!”

“That face!”

“I wanted to bite it!”

She can hear the glare the librarian is sending the gang of high school girls who are gathered at the end of the long table, their faces flushed pink as they squeak over some likely unsuspecting boy, and it’s enough to send her limping away through the stacks looking for a quieter spot to lick her wounds.

Little puffs of dust appear at her feet as she wanders deeper, led by some sense she can’t name to where anthology and collected works rising around her, their leather bound spines warm under her fingertips.

It grows darker, gloomier, the books older and thicker and mustier, until she’s swallowed up by the strange unreality of it all, her heart beating faster and faster until she’s almost ready to run - run back to the gossiping girls and the prim librarian, some nameless, faithless ghost at her heels -

And then the ghost looks up from his sea of words, catches her in the snare of his too blue eyes, and she knows that she’s doomed.

“This seat taken?” she says, but it sounds like I missed you.

He pulls out her chair with ink stained fingers, and it sounds like I know.

–

He still smells like leather and cigarettes and rain, still writes in the same looping cursive, still calls her Swan in that accent that’s only grown rougher with age even though she tells him “It’s Nolan now.”

“No wonder I couldn’t find you,” he says to that, smiling as he presses a tissue gently against her bleeding knee. “He’s a lucky man.”

“There’s no man, lucky or otherwise,” she says, and his smile grows, creasing the corners of his eyes and reminding her just how very many years have passed while they’ve lived their separate lives - marginalia in each others biographies.

He tells her about reform school, the navy, the dishonourable discharge and the hand that’s not quite right. He tells her about how his perfect brother died an ignoble death on foreign soil, how his father bled out in a bar fight - a hundred thousand grazes she wasn’t there to salve.

“There hasn’t been a day go by I haven’t thought of you,” he tells her earnestly, and what can she say in reply but the truth?

“Good.”

(They don’t say goodbye.)