#embroidery tumblr has been good to me in ways art never was

[utilitycaster]

you getting push back on that post is crazy to me isn't it enough to watch and get invested in something for what it is currently rather than what it will be? I have so many unfinished projects in my own life it'd be crazy to demand polished completion from everything I watch/read. my unfinished sketches and embroidery and abandoned dnd campaigns still brought joy and growth without having a polished thing to present at the end

So what's funny to me is like. I have referenced this before here and elsewhere but like, as a child, I was SO bad at ambiguous and sad endings and my mother was like, not unkind about this, but neither did she coddle it, and I think that laid a groundwork that was really necessary.

My tags, which got lost bc I did NOT expect that post to break containment, do actually touch on how Netflix and other streaming services canceling things to avoid paying people a fair wage fucking suck but yeah here's a list of creative endeavors I participated in or watched/listened to/read that do not as of this posting have endings and I still liked, and many of them aren't even directly attributable to capitalism because this is just a fact of life and art.

As mentioned, both A Song of Ice and Fire and the Kingkiller Chronicles.

Multiple D&D campaigns for sure (I actually don't make D&D characters without a game in mind and find it weird that people do and so I'm like why am I the one arguing for the beauty of the incomplete).

Multiple fics, both mine and others.

King Falls AM, a podcast I binged in like 2018-2019 and despite being a mystery never actually completed bc the creators couldn't agree.

I think Battlestar Galactica 2003 is one of the most brilliant shows of its era and also the finale, which happened when the creators intended it to, is really dumb, and that doesn't undo the fact that I loved everything else.

How I Met Your Mother ends really poorly in a way that arguably undercuts the whole series, but like, I still liked that too.

Ditto for Chuck, which also struggles in that it was on the chopping block most seasons so they kept ending in ways that probably weren't true to whatever the original vision may have been.

I saw Firefly on DVD after it had already been canceled, I think Serenity is good but I don't love all the choices, and Joss Whedon has since been revealed to be a dick but like, I enjoyed myself greatly while watching it.

As mentioned, Heroes. I didn't watch much TV until my teens anyway because we didn't have cable and our reception sucked and we were very much a book household, and this was one of the first series I recall watching from season 1 and it's also the first TV series where I was like yeah I don't care anymore, and it went on for 4 seasons and I think I gave up either late S2 or early S3.

I didn't watch Supernatural, Game of Thrones, nor Grey's Anatomy but all of those are famous for outstaying their welcome, sometimes it's better to burn out than fade away, etc.

I had already long outgrown Harry Potter and started to see its limitations by the time Rowling's transphobia became public but like, now it's not something I would ever recommend to my friends' kids or anything, and that doesn't undo the fact that I did greatly enjoy it as a child and teenager; it was indirectly the reason why I was introduced to the superior fantasy of Diana Wynne Jones, which I do still reread from time to time. (I think the "well I never liked it" mentality about works from artists who end up being terrible people is tied into the "I can't get invested in anything that might end in an unsatisfying manner." Tumblr University's media studies grads are not the brightest stars in the firmament, that's for sure.)

Like, cancellation (let alone cancellation specifically because of the unique shittiness of streaming services) is just one of the many reason things might end in a way you dislike or become difficult for you to enjoy at a later date, and that's just talking about television. Are you really going to deny yourself the joy of anticipation and watching a story unfold in real-time because the thought of something not satisfying you at every single turn is so unfathomable?

(oh, and because this is, as we know, a CR blog much of the time, I should add that this mentality is really pervasive which is wild because your average 3-season canceled Netflix show is probably the equivalent of maybe 9-10 CR episodes; thinking about how many people who now claim C2 is terrible watched 141 episodes and also the person who is iconic to me who unironically asked me what the point was in getting invested in characters who will die re: Chetney)

[snek-panini]

Book time! At last, a new one! This is a bind of In Death's Embrace, We Are Reborn by Arinia. It's a fantastic series from the Good Omens fandom. Angsty but sweet, canon-adjacent 20th century history fic. Absolutely gorgeous, rich prose and in character the whole way. Don't be discouraged by the 6/9 chapter count for part 2, it reads as a complete story and I cannot recommend it highly enough.

So! This is a Coptic bind, which means it has no glue holding it together, only stitching, which is visible. I see those recommended a lot of beginner bookbinders, but I have a habit of looking at a new craft and thinking "I don't wanna do the boring beginner project, I want to do the exciting intermediate/advanced one that I don't have the skills for", so I went right for case binding and skipped this kind until now. Two years and a dozen books later, this is my first Coptic. I learned a lot, tried a lot of new things, and will for sure do it again.

More pics and process talk under the cut!

Pic of the spine and endpaper. I used metallic embroidery floss to stitch it, a decision I am going to call hubris. It looks beautiful but is so fucking slippery it's ridiculous. Also it won't hold a weaver's knot like the other thread I've used. I put a French link stitch in the middle (also a first for me) because I saw someone else on tumblr do that a couple of weeks ago and thought it looked really cool so I stole it, but I don't remember who it was so I can't credit them. I made a mistake in that part, where the needle caught a thread it wasn't supposed to, but I don't think it's visible in the photos. The endpaper is also stolen, in that I saw someone post a photo of stuff they'd bought and thought this one was perfect for this project, and I was right. White and black feathers are important to the story so it couldn't have been more perfect. Again, I don't remember who it was or I'd give them a shout-out.

When it came to cutting boards for the cover, I did the thing you do with case binding, which is cut them a little bigger than the text block on top and bottom, but because it's a glueless binding the stitching kinda sags down when it's upright on the shelf. I'm thinking it might put unnecessary stress on the text block down the line, so next time I do this I think I'll make the boards the same size as the block and see how that goes.

Pic of the title page and the section break artwork I made. I really need to up my title page game, it looks so plain. The section break was made with free clip art of feathers that I found via google. I've never experimented with vector art before and I still don't really know anything about it. All I did was find the image, rotate it, mirror it, and draw that little diamond shape in the middle. I made it a little too big and too bold, so it kind of dominates the pages it's on more than it should. I was tired of using a plain gray line for section breaks though, so I'm more or less happy with how it came out. And I learned stuff for next time.

Materials: textured cardstock for the cover, chiyogami paper for the endpaper (I love this stuff, it was so much easier than cardstock), metallic embroidery floss for the stitching (terrible, would not use again), and gold embossing powder for the title. I'm trying to up my cover game but it's hard. The text for the "Reborn" part didn't come out as clear as I'd have liked. I like the gold frame, though. Would do that again.

[tartsandcrafts]

I’ve once again been caught up in the urge to get into another crafting hobby. I bought the latest humble bundle of crafting and diy ebooks, and for some reason, this time crochet is calling me. Is it because it was impossible to resist opening a book called "The Happy Hooker"? Probably? All I know is that I ended up ordering a pack of crochet hooks and a few different types of yarn from Michael's, so I guess this is happening now. Since I kind of regret not documenting my learning process as I tried other crafts (silversmithing, wire wrapping, beading, embroidery and cross stitch, sourdough…), I think I'll try it with crochet. Guess I’m planning to actually blog now.

So here's my naive approach so far:

The book is “Stitch ‘n bitch crochet: The Happy Hooker” by Debbie Stroller, and for the first crochet book I’ve opened, it seems pretty detailed and comprehensive. My plan is to follow each stitch tutorial and make a practice square for all of them. Then I’ll try to follow one of the patterns. Scarf seems like the obvious choice, which is all I ever managed to make when I tried to learn knitting over a decade ago. 

I bought a set of aluminum crochet hooks that includes sizes D-K because that seemed like a good place to start? I’m a little iffy on how likely I am to use a bunch of different sizes, but I was not confident enough to believe I could pick the one best size to learn on. For yarn, I got two smaller skeins of cheap medium weight 100% cotton in two colours so I can try out switching them up, one skein of medium weight wool/nylon blend for a scarf pattern from the book I want to try, and one super fine acrylic/nylon blend because I want to try the cute fingerless gloves pattern one day, maybe, and also needed to compare yarn weights in person. I just can’t visualize the differences. I would love to go to that independent fibre arts store down the street and just browse, but I’m not ready to go out into the world for anything but necessities yet, so I’m at the mercy of online shop product descriptions. 

I almost bought a mini stuffed dinosaur crochet kit from Etsy, but shipping ended up being half the cost of the item, and it was probably an overly optimistic ambition anyway. I did find out that the search term is amigurumi, ended up on the club crochet website, and got the vague idea that if I ever want to pursue making little creatures (and I will), I need to learn something called the “magic circle”. This term is giving me flashbacks to being a pre-teen reading Sandry’s Book and thinking maybe my friendship bracelets could hold magic too.

Looking forward to making a bunch of useless crochet squares as I start to figure shit out! Can’t wait until I start hoarding yarn!

[bearbaitmegs]

I know I don’t have a lot of active followers here, but I’ve been going though some major changes in my life recently (both good and/or disorienting), and one of the things I am aiming to achieve with that is to reestablish myself online in some small way. Just casually, socially. I used to enjoy interacting and making friends online and some of my oldest friends remain people that I met through the web.

I hope these sporadic personal posts don’t bother you.

I think part of these changes that I’m aspiring to involve getting into the habit of simply posting more. I honestly am unsure of where to migrate to online outside of Tumblr. I’ve ditched Facebook except to check on businesses I’m planning on visiting and occasionally to sell something. I’m only on Snapchat and Instagram to follow one person. I haven’t logged into DeviantArt in almost 10 years. Yahoo 360 is long gone. Adjusting to Discord has been a slow and lurking process because it reminds me of some particularly haunting memories and it lacks most topics I’d be interested in (publicly, at least). Twitter never fit right. I refuse to engage with people on Ao3 or ffn because I’m very hesitant to engage with people who has the same media interests as I do because I’ve had far too much fandom-related trauma and drama and I still have trouble forming friend groups despite 9 years of distance

My brother has an undiagnosed and untreated personality disorder and it has often felt like his drama has been my defining feature for almost 2 years. I have gotten tired of carrying his monkey into all of my relationships and conversations, especially when trying to make new ones. I wish I had custody of my nephew because he and his ex are both sucky and neglectful, but all I can do is wait until the kid turns 18 or asks about emancipation. My brother deliberately seeks out relationships that renew and reinforce his past traumas in order to legitimize his unwillingness to move on and I hold him at least partially responsible for our parents’ decline in emotional, financial, and physical health. I recently opted to go for No Contact/Very Low Contact with him and it’s been freeing and refreshing and I feel immensely happier and more motivated. 

I frequently feel like I don’t have anything worth saying or cannot really think of anything to say. It’s a work in progress. I have always carried a sense of awkwardness and that continues to persist into my 30s, despite the fact that I generally consider myself a confident person. I’ve been in a romantic relationship for 5 years and it fulfills 95% of my social and emotional needs, which... I think has led to leaving many of my other relationships to pasture.

Instinctively, I want to reach out and rectify all of these relationships all at once. Of course, it doesn’t work that way, and in trying to pace myself I find I often procrastinate. I set myself a goal of reaching out to a friend per week, but it’s more like one every two weeks. I know some of us will pick up where we left off like we’ve never been apart. Some of my friends will have moved on and our re-connection will separate again because we’re just different now and I’m honestly not bothered by that. It’s normal. I just hesitate because I don’t know where to start even though the script should be so easy. I feel annoying and needy. “Hey, I hope you’re well! I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. I was thinking of you today every day.” Ugh.

I’m pretty financially, mentally, and physically stable and have been for a while. I like my job and I’m paid very well! I like me! I like my hobbies and my apartment! I’ve worked very hard to get here and there’s really only a few key things I want to improve upon.

But somehow I feel like I’m rediscovering myself again. Like I was shut out of something and didn’t even realize there was a door. I’ve missed something. I’m naturally comfortable alone and tend to be willfully obtuse about things that don’t involve me only to get startled by them later.

I moved back to my hometown 2 years ago in order to introduce my partner to my family and be around for some major family events. It was supposed to be a 4 month summer visit. The family drama just never stopped and I’m just...still here. I can’t wait to leave, but I also don’t resent my hometown as much as I did when I left. It’s changing immensely, but so am I. I definitely won’t be able to afford to stay.

I had a patio garden over the summer and, while we hardly got our money’s worth out of it, it was pretty and tasty and fulfilling. A few of the plants are overwintering with us.

I still haven’t lived somewhere that allows me a pet, but I keep saving stray cats. 

I have way more fabric than I know what to do with from old clothes and dead ideas, but I finally tuned up my sewing machine and bought a set of sewing machine feet and I have lots of plans and ideas that I just need to sit down and actually execute. Especially embroidery.

I finally spent the damn $70 on an old school drawing tablet and took the time to download some free art programs. A modern tablet is still too much to budget for and a mouse and MS Paint is not enough. I do not know why it took me 10 freaking years when I’ve spent far more money on far less desirable luxuries.

I am hoping to find a decent enough mountain bike at a manageable price to do a long-distance cycling trip next year. If I don’t, I’ll divert to hiking a long-distance trail. I’ve never stopped craving spending weeks and weeks out in the woods with an overstuffed backpack since my first trek in 2016. I’m willing to go out of my way and budget hard to make it a reality on an annual basis.

I’m slowly picking away at my original story, JatGSL, a 10+ year Work In Progress, and I finally have a setting and characters that I feel good about and have a lot of fun imagining. I’m afraid to say much about it. It has dying androids and mushrooms and mythology and domesticated seals and braille and it takes place on a melted Antarctica. But my writing is a muscle long neglected and I don’t know if I’ll ever really get it back.

I sometimes think about moving some of my old fanfics over to Ao3 so they won’t be lost, but my old penname carries weight I’d rather not pick up and I don’t want to add anything else to JKR’s legacy and some of the things I wrote when I was 17-22 have aged pretty poorly. So, I hesitate and debate and do nothing.

I keep having simple, but neat ideas that nobody out in the market seems to be doing/making, but I lack the connections and knowledge to do anything with them.

My romantic partner is an amazingly perfect fit. Absolutely well-fitting, in-sync, mind-blowingly complementary in every way. I increasingly worry it might not last because my partner has 1 (ONE) key issue that I just can’t live with long term and if they can’t figure out a healthy way to cope I don’t know if I can go another 5 years dealing with it. I grew up with it. I won’t live with it.

It often feels odd to talk about myself (even here. even now) because I feel so much happier than I seem to be describing myself.

[eraofstories]

in quarantine I’ve been getting heavily invested in embroidery, and i’m enjoying it a lot! Like, I can start with a piece of fabric and thread, and then, after I put in a bunch of work, there’s a piece of art!

And recently I finished the stitching on the first piece that I designed myself, after first doing a bunch of tests to figure out the stitches I wanted to use and then practice them so that I could make them look even and consistent and nice, and that’s something that would never have existed in any form if I hadn’t made it! And that is, let me tell you! An incredible feeling, especially right now as everything in the world feels like it’s falling to bits. 

And of course, I’m me, so I’ve been doing a bunch of reading about embroidery and different stitches and methods and everything else online, and like. wow! Embroidery blogs are just. so so so christian, and so so so white. Not all WASPy, there are catholics too! But I’ve had very little success looking for Jewish embroidery patterns, and just. Everyone is so white. And I’ll be browsing through a blog, having fun seeing all sorts of stuff I’d like to try, and then also here is the lord’s prayer, and yes I do love it so much that i spent a hundred hours stitching it! And like. I do get it, I understand the devotional nature of it etc. It’s just something that feels like this reminder saying “but you’re different!” And I think I’d be less grumpy about that part specifically if I hadn’t just spent a week trying and failing to find good Jewish patterns, and so having it seem like every embroidery blog has SEVERAL intensely christian ones feels frustrating.

Anyway, if anyone has recs of people to follow, on tumblr or elsewhere I’d love to find more diverse embroiderers! 

But in conclusion! Making things is making me happy! (and every time i get excited about a new thing and buy a new material I donate the same amount to one of the various good causes that are around, so it’s working as both a way to create something so I don’t go crazy sitting at home and continuously contribute to stuff, even though I’m considered ‘high risk and not going out except to get food). 

[harlot-of-oblivion]

A Dance with the Devil

You are a dancer looking for the perfect partner when you catch the eye of a white haired gentleman known as Vergil. Instantly attracted to this handsome cool devil you engage in an intense dance of passion and seduction.

Well this happened. I blame Vergil's sexy legs.

I'd like to give a shout out to @drusoona for showering me in endless screenshots of those wonderfully yummy legs. It kept me going. Much thanks and love! 💕

I'd also like to thank the anon on tumblr that suggested the title. I loved the idea so much that I even incorporated it in my fic. So, thank you for the inspiration. 😘

The song that is used during their intimate tango is Do It For Me by Rosenfeld.

Enjoy!

You always enjoy the feeling of a crowded dance hall. The soft murmurs that echo as people chat among themselves, the ever present music in the air, the distinct tapping of feet stepping on the floor as the slight swoosh of bodies accompanies their rhythm…you thrive on this energy.

Quite a turn out tonight, you thought as your eyes scan the various students, guests, and instructors that the fill the vast room. You’ve been dancing at the Red Grave City Dance Studio for about a year now. Usually people come and learn the basics, but they don’t stick around to truly master the dances. But you take pride in your tutelage of the intricacies of the standard smooth dances, which is your primary focus. You find any excuse to put on your heels and slap on a red split dress just to feel that exciting rush as you glide across the floor.

Which is why you’re here at the open house…or in this case, an open dance hall. Students of the studio invite anyone they see fit to this event. The dance instructors will go around, invite them to dance, and show them various steps and dances. You didn’t bring a guest though. It’s just events like this are perfect to show off your skills…and perhaps find a suitable dance partner. Unfortunately it takes two people to really do the smooth dances justice, and so far you haven’t found anyone that can be a decent lead. So here you are, standing in the corner as your eyes search the throng of people for a partner.

The swinging door of the entrance way caught your attention. You see one fellow student, you believe her name is Kyrie, walking in holding the arm of a young man with short white hair. Kyrie enrolled about a month ago, to brush up on her waltz for her wedding, and it seems she was finally able to convince her fiancé to join her. You recall his name to be Nero if memory serves you right. As they move towards the registry table you notice that the happy couple didn’t come alone. A woman close behind them is grinning mischievously as she follows the couple. You raise your eyebrow quizzically as you see her cowboy boots, jean shorts, several tattoos and…is that a tool belt? You blink your eyes in disbelief as another figure suddenly appears beside the odd group.

Where the hell did he come from? You ponder as you take in the fierce presence of a man that appears to be their guest as well. He was tall, pale, and every bit as stoic as you can get without being called stone. His attire was out of the ordinary for today’s standards. A dark blue coat with light blue embroidery and three coattails, a blue formal vest, black pants, and boots with several straps. It was striking, but you had to admit he pulls it off. You couldn’t help to admire his long legs, noticing their strength and elegance as he strides purposefully towards the table.

I wouldn’t mind feeling those legs guide me on the dance floor, you thought suggestively to yourself as he comes to a halt at the group. Now that he’s a bit closer you can get a good look at his facial features. His white hair is swept up out of his face, showcasing one the most handsome faces you’ve ever seen. It reminded you of the marble statues of ancient times, every angle and contour carefully carved into a masterpiece. You’ve touched one of those statues once. It was cold to the touch, and soft as satin. By the way he carries himself, he seems to be calm, cool, and you absently wonder if he’s also soft as satin.

While the rest of the eccentric group talks with the instructor at the table the white haired gentleman, who you guess must be related to Kyrie’s fiancé since their hair color is similar, steps to the side and observes the room. His head slowly turns as his eyes inspect the room, his face expressing no emotion as he surveys his surroundings. You know you should look away before his eyes makes their way to where you stand, but how could you tear your gaze from a work of art? Besides, its not like he’ll notice one lone woman staring among the crowd…

His eyes sweep over to where you stand. Suddenly, he pauses and his intense gaze directs all their attention at one corner…right where you’re standing. He’s staring straight at you. A small shiver rushes through your body as you gasp out a shuddering breath. His captivating silver eyes pin you down and you don’t dare move, afraid that if you do the moment will be lost. Outside distractions seem to fade, your mind no longer registering the classical music and the company of dancing bodies. All of your focus is on the white haired gentleman, whose face has now molded itself into scowl. Great…he’s probably wondering why a weird woman is gaping at him with no sense of decency. You were caught red handed and you should just break eye contact, walk away while picking up what was left of your dignity.

But you don’t. For some reason, your gut tells you to stand your ground. You feel that this staring contest is a test…as to what its testing you for, you have no idea. So, you remain trapped by his gaze, lifting your chin little in defiance and hope its convincing enough to relay the message that he doesn’t intimidate you. The scowl lifts off his face as he regards you in curiosity. I guess I passed? A pleased grin graces your lips and you tilt your head to the side in a teasing manner, inviting whatever trouble this man has in store for you.

The white haired gentleman moves his elegant legs, his eyes never straying from your form as he approaches you. Your heart begins to beat faster in anticipation. While you wait for the walking work of art to arrive you let your eyes drift all over his body. You get the impression that he likes to be in charge, which suits you fine as long as he proves to be a good lead. You can practically feel his eyes roam over your body as he reaches you and halts just out of your personal space. He silently stands there for a moment, the blue hue in his silver eyes shining as he studies you up close. You raise your eyebrow questioningly as you slightly pop your hip out in mild amusement. If he thinks he can keep me waiting...well, he’s in for a rude awakening.

“Is this where you impress me, or should I find someone else to dance with?”

Your shrewish voice seems to knock him out of his thoughts as his eyes focus on your face. He stares down at you with a bewildered expression on his face and that makes you grin triumphantly as you wait for his response. A few seconds of silence pass before he does something that takes you off guard…he laughs. The sardonic timber echoes in the air as he steps within your personal space and bows down. His height towers over you as he presents his hand. Then, in a confident and very sensuous voice, he asks the question you’ve been longing to hear since arriving here.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

You place your hand into his open palm, giving him a sultry glare. “And who do I have the pleasure of following into a dance?”

“Vergil. And who do I have the pleasure of leading into a dance?” he requests in turn as he leads you to the dance floor. You give him your name as he pulls you close, preparing you for a waltz. You’re so close that you can feel his chest vibrate as he hums, repeating your name softly. “So that is the name of my temptress…well, let’s see if you can truly dance with the devil, my lady.”

Either this man is extremely confident in himself or very arrogant, you mused as your body reacts to his words, a warm tingle runs down your spine as the dance begins. He proves to be an excellent dancer, masterfully leading you into a refined Viennese waltz. He knows exactly when to be direct and when to be subtle with his body. You find yourself easily following him, enjoying the rush of adrenaline dancing with a dashing stranger.

For the rest of the evening you spend all your time with Vergil. Your conversations with him are vague, both of you wordlessly acknowledging that you want to live in the mystery of each other for as long as possible. And the dancing…he leads you into a couple more waltzes, but its when you goad him in a tango that your attraction for this man ramps up. You thought he was reluctant to tango because he didn’t know the steps, but you were quickly proven wrong when he kept up with you on the dance floor. That’s when you decide to up the stakes in this little game between the two of you. Alluring glances out of the corner of your eye as he guides you across the floor. Sensual caresses across his chest, waist, and arms as you follow his lead.

And by the way his actions become more demanding you knew he took notice…and he mercilessly reciprocates. The next tango is full of his suggestive touches and intense gazes. His warm fingers teasingly stroke your waist, neck, and legs. His strong arms hold you close as he effortlessly lifts you in the air. And his long elegant legs brush you constantly. When he slips his knee high between your thighs and slides it across your skin, the heat of his body making your slick heat quiver…you come to the decision to tempt this man straight to your bed.

When one of the instructors announces that the last dance of the night is about to commence you lean up and whisper into Vergil’s ear. “As much as I want to dazzle everyone with one last dance…I’d rather have you all to myself.” You step away from him and raise a suggestive eyebrow at him. “Show me what you’re really capable of, Vergil. Follow me…and don’t hold back.” You give him the best come hither look you can muster, hoping that you’ve enticed him enough before turning your back and walking away from him, grabbing your clutch purse as you go through a side door.

Being one of the top students here gives you some privileges…such as a key to a private dance room. The butterflies in your stomach get stronger with each step down the hall. You can’t shake the slight worry that he won’t follow, thinking you too forward and rejecting your offer. But the way he looks at you, talks to you, touches you…you feel certain that he’ll follow, if not to dance then…well, you’re open minded and quick to adapt. That’s what makes you great dancer after all.

Light footsteps reverberate through the hall behind you. You turn your head and see Vergil close behind you, fierce eyes piecing right through you. His smooth gait reminds you of a predator stalking their prey and you relish the idea letting him catch you, but only after he gives you a good chase. Exhilaration overtakes the butterflies in your stomach as you reach the door to the private room. As you place the key in the doorknob you feel the dominate presence of Vergil enclose around you, stealing your breath away as his lips brush against your neck.

“You play with fire…still think you can handle the heat?” he murmurs as he drags his lips to your ear, making you shiver at his chilling touch.

You turn the knob and open the door. “It’s the heat that makes me thrive,” you reply calmly as you gesture for him to come in. When he steps though you close the door and lock it before looking back at him with fiery conviction gleaming in your eyes.

“Light me up, Vergil.”

You seductively strut past him to the corner of the room where a phone speaker sits on a table . A deep rumbling purr emanates in the air as Vergil follows behind, no doubt enjoying the view of your shapely behind. You make sure to really rock your hips, adding to the already splendid bounce of your ass. You’ve managed to somehow make it this far, and you’re going to make damn sure you have your way with this cocky man…hook, line, and sinker.

Vergil growls and you feel his strong hands grab your arms, pulling your back to his chest. His lips brush against the shell of your ear, making you shiver in delight. “Brazen temptress,” he remarks, pressing his hips to your body. You feel the distinct bulge of his arousal against your butt. You almost break down and turn around to end this game, but you stick to your task, determined to go through what you have planned. You shrug him off and continue on, taking your phone out and hooking it into the speakers. You make sure it has the song you want queued up, putting it on repeat just in case. Once everything was in place you turn to face a tantalizing sight.

Vergil has removed his signature coat, revealing his bare arms. Seeing a bit more of his skin gives you tingles in all the right places. His gloves are also gone. Those calloused hands are slightly twitching as his side, preparing to enact whatever you bring. You bite your lip and lower your eyes as you lean forward a bit, hands clasped behind your back as you shamelessly show off your ample cleavage.

“Would you do me the honor in joining me in a tango, sir?” you request playfully.

Vergil hums appreciatively. “How could I say no to such a riveting display?”

You don’t even try to hide the delighted smirk that appears on your lips. Turning slightly you swipe at your phone as Vergil makes his way to the center of the room. He stands patiently facing the mirrored wall, a fine example of grace and prowess. You hurriedly join him, getting in close behind him and put both hands on his back as the beginning of the song plays. You wait a moment before sliding one of your hands around until it rests on his chest, fingers spread wide as you slightly dig your nails into his vest. His own hand comes up to rest on it, warm and rough as his fingers curl in between yours as the words of the song plays through the air.

Show me how

Show me how you like it done

You're all mine

I'll make you feel like you're the one

Your hand slowly withdraws and Vergil leans to the side, as if to follow your smooth touch. Your body shifts around to his side, your lustful eyes meeting his as he leads you in a soft twirl and brings your back to his chest. One of his hands presses on your abdomen while the other glides up your side, stopping just short of your cupping your breast. Your mouth opens as you let out a sigh of pleasure, extending both arms out to the side as you ready for his next move.

Take off your clothes

Give me your trust

Look me in the eyes and confess your lust

His body leads you to the side and you let him spin you in that direction, snapping you still after one step. His arm encircles your back as you grasp that arm, your other free hand brings itself to back of his neck. Vergil rests his forehead upon yours, his fervent gaze meeting yours as you nuzzle your nose against his and both your lips are but a breath apart. In the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of this delectable image in the mirror. It takes all your willpower to not let out a wanton moan as desire flows through you.

Get on your knees

Beg me to stop

I promise I'll love you if you do it

So do it for me

Your rub your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck as he steps into a contra check, changing your direction as you leisurely twirl with him until he pauses your body beside him. He rests his hand against your rib cage, his thumb grazes the underside of your breast. Your breath shutters as you feel yourself give in to this arduous haze. His arm behind your back gently pushes you forward, commanding you to take a couple steps as he comes in close. Once again his face is unbearably close. You can feel his steady breath against your mouth. His hand on your rib cage slides up, barely cupping your breast. As he continues past your breast his thumb firmly brushes against your nipple, causing you to whimper softly.

The corners of Vergil’s mouth turn up in a smug grin. Shooting him a frustrated glare, you decide you about had it with him being a big tease. Time to show him why I dared to dance with the devil, you thought mischievously as you wait for your opening. The sneaky hand that made you whimper reaches the underside of your arm. He extends his touch, caressing every inch of skin, before ending at your hand. He bends his knees slightly, you following his lead as he slinks to the side and fully grasps your hand in his. As you both straighten up, you bring your face in just a tad bit closer, seizing your chance at payback. You open your mouth and let your tongue peek out, the tip swiping across Vergil’s pouty lips. He bares his teeth and snarls. He jerks your body even closer, your chest meeting his as he positions you both for his next move. His silver eyes glare down at you, warning you to behave…or else. You know the music is about to pick up the pace, so you ready yourself for a spirited ride.

The air around you ignites as he leads you into a fast paced tango, his legs showing no mercy as your high heels keep up with their stride. You gave just as much as you got though, completely in sync with each other as he guides you passionately across the floor. You close your eyes, giving him total control as you just bask in the moment. The firm grasp of his hands as they direct you wherever he wants. The gentle caress of his hips as they slightly rock with his movements. The titillating stroke of his thigh between your legs on occasion. Vergil was cool and reserved when you first met him, but now…he was extremely zealous in this dancing, setting your body aflame with lust.

Give me your hand

I'll show you things you've never done

Hold my head

I'll make you feel like never before

Even in your delirious stupor you admire his technique; so precise and controlled as your bodies move as one. If this is how he is with his clothes on…you couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for you at the end of this thrilling game. Your eyes flutter open as both your bodies spin, and he continues to lead you in a few more as he stands stationary. His hand on your back signals you to stop and he dips you down to his knee, his glorious legs spread wide to accommodate your body. In turn you grandly extend your arm out, showing off your sexy red dress as your daring leg lunges out. A sultry grin pulls at your lips, enjoying the rush of elation that wafts through you. As your about to be lifted back to your feet your eyes catch the reflection in the mirror.

Vergil isn’t looking down at you as you sensually stretch your body. He’s looking up…at the mirror. Jaw clenched, mouth partially open as he harshly breaths, and his eyes are practically glowing as they roam your body. Pleasure surges through your body as you witness for the first time a slip in his controlled façade. It’s very sexy and you want nothing more than to pull his face down and kiss him senseless. But your in it to win it. So, you decide to test his resolve once more. You show off your slender neck as you raise your hand up to it and stroke your skin all the way down your chest while letting your mouth drop open in ecstasy.

Take off your clothes

Give me your trust

Look me in the eyes and confess your lust

Suddenly, he forcefully lifts to your feet and pulls your backwards, a hard chest colliding with your back. Vergil takes your hand and encircles it around you as his lips come to your ear, pressing lightly as they descend down to your neck. You feel his lips smirk against your quickening pulse as his tongue comes out to taste your skin. This time you don’t even try to stop the soft groan that leaves your lips. His arousal is very evident as you instinctively rub your bottom against his hips. Vergil hisses and nibbles at your neck as he spreads your arms out, rocking his hips forward to indicate where he wants you to step. God damn tease! you thought exasperatedly, but you also had to applaud his tenacity. You can feel yourself slipping, but you press on, not wanting to give in just yet.

Get on your knees

Beg me to stop

I promise I'll love you if you do it

So do it for me

Just as you take a step away from him you feel him follow, lingering for just a moment before leading you in a twirl back to his side. You raise your hands gracefully above your head, doing a couple more turns before coming to a halt in Vergil’s arms with a sudden snap. His body is as close as it can get, the bulge in his pants now against your hip. You feel his fingers fondle your waist as he lowers his head atop yours. His eyes are half closed, darkening with desire as he unabashedly looks at your lips. As your hands lower onto his sculpted arms, you tilt your head up as far as you can. You stare up at him desperately as you offer your lips, seeking some relief from the hot tension that’s been steadily rising since the start of this dance.

Vergil lowers his head until his lips are but a scant breath away from your mouth. His eyes peer into yours, gleaming as his lips firmly brush against yours own. You hum your appreciation at this long awaited moment, eagerly kissing back as his hands come up to your arms. Instead of deepening the kiss he infuriatingly bends his knees, intending to continue on with the dance. You weakly whine in protest, but a low rumbling growl alerts you that he will not be swayed. His lips sadly leave you as he guides you once more, his steps even more demanding than the last time.

You follow him…except this time you don’t let him have all the reins. To show your displeasure at his torturous teasing you decide to put more emphasis on your legs. Specifically, taking advantage of the split seam of your dress. You spread your legs wider than necessary, showing off your skimpy panties in a risqué manner every so often. Normally this action would be a waste, but with the mirrored wall…there’s a chance that Vergil can’t resist checking out the reflection. By the way his movements start to be more domineering and the distinct cadence of harsh breathing he was indeed noticing your very sheer panties.

Say my name

All I wanna do is hear you scream in pain

Say my name

I promise I'll love you if you do it

So do it for me

After a couple more flashes of your clothed sex, Vergil abruptly pauses and you can see fire in his eyes. Not so fun when its turned on you now, is it? You just keep the routine going, trusting that he’ll support you as you give him a naughty smile, bending your back in a full arch towards the mirror. You can see yourself there, hair dangling wildly and your breasts boldly displayed for only his eyes to feast on. This rewards you a guttural grunt and you can’t help to feel accomplished at finally hearing him let loose.

In the mirror you can now see his face openly showing his ravenous desire. His hand slides down behind you and grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing it as he grinds his hips into you. A sharp dart of pleasure shoots through you as a gasp escapes your lips. You gradually lift your body back up to him and purposely sift your fingers through his hair, hoping that it will be enough for him to finally give in and have his way with you. No such luck. All he does his scoff indignantly and twist you around, determined to endure until the end.

You huff in agitation, but also refuse to back down as well. The song is nearing its end, blasting its erotic beat as Vergil holds nothing back in this explosive finale. He swirls you around relentlessly around the floor, using his body to support you sporadically as your feet flicker and kick in the air. At one point he displays his strength when he wraps his arms around your waist, picks you up, and flips your body up onto his shoulders. You let the momentum carry you as your legs swing around behind his neck, trusting him to carry you through this stunt. His arms expertly catch you and immediately he twirls you a few times before ending in a triumphant dip.

Holy shit. You are so aroused that you couldn’t stand it anymore. Your body goes limp as Vergil picks you back up carefully, having no more energy to go on in this state. He gently cradles your head and lifts it to examine your face with scrutiny. You breath is rapid, your breasts straining against your dress as they rose and fell in time with your breath. At this point you probably look totally flushed and sweaty from the sexual intensity of the dance. But at this point you didn’t care. You needed this man to kiss you, to touch you…to fuck you so badly. This whole scenario was your idea, confronting him about this obvious attraction you both have for each other and doing something about it. He’s responded above and beyond expectations spectacularly at this point, but you feel that you’re at the point of no return. All you can do is hope that the risk was worth it…and await his next move.

Vergil traps you in a vice grip close to his body. His hand angles your head up and you notice that his face is immobile, but his hooded eyes shine with satisfaction. He leans in and captures your lips ferociously, making you cry out in delight as your arms wrap around his neck. His tongue instantly demands your mouth to open and you comply, enjoying the taste of black tea and mint as he explores every corner of your mouth, leaving no place untouched by him.

Distracted by his heavy kisses you didn’t notice his hand leave the back of your head until you felt a soft smack on your butt. You release a muffle moan against his mouth, encouraging him with a small bite on his bottom lip. He merely grumbles and proceeds to mercilessly make out with you. His sly hand creeps down over the curve of your ass, its path unyielding as it slides over the backside of your thigh. He prompts you to lift your leg with a slight squeeze of his fingers. You groan meekly as you do as your told, his hand holding it in place before slipping down over your knee and extending the rest of your leg out. He abruptly pulls his mouth away from yours, ignoring your cry of protest as he holds your foot high in the air. He then moves his body in a way that tells you he wants to turn you away, and to keep your leg up as you sweep it around.

He’s still trying to finish the dance…what a handsome, insufferable man. You sigh and shake your head in disbelief, but you didn’t want to disappoint him. So, you spin your back to him, making sure to really show off your lovely leg. When your back is completely flat with his chest Vergil bends your leg backwards around his waist as he lowers his body as if he was dipping you. This stretches your body in a pleasing pose, open and reliant on his arms to keep you steady. You happen to notice that you're facing the mirror, and its only then that you realize what he’s done. His expression is pure sin as his hands quickly shoot across your body. One hand gropes a breast while the other glides over your delicate center. You gasp out, unable to move away as he strokes your damp panties at an agonizing pace. All you could do is moan and watch all this unfold in the mirror, completely at this wicked man’s mercy.

A husky chuckle sounds close to your ear. “My, my…all this for me?” Vergil softly scoffs as his hand speeds up slightly, emphasizing the slickness in which they move. You whimper as you try to move your hips to ease the pressure, but its no use; he’s got you right where he wants you. You feel a hum vibrate against your ear. In the mirror you see Vergil nibble on your ear, making you twitch against him as his hand completely cups your sex. His eyes catch yours in the mirror and he grins smugly.

“Look at you…wet, wanton…and all mine,” he grumbles and bites down on your neck, sucking it hard as he marks you. You gasp out in pain, but the fingers on your wet panties tease you, rubbing close to your hot clothed entrance which eases the pain into rough pleasure.

“Ah…Vergil…please…I need…ah!” You plea softly, hoping that he either gives you release with that wonderful hand of his or tears your clothes off and fucks you senseless.

Vergil releases your neck and whispers in your ear. “Your begging pleases me…so, what does my temptress want, hmm? Tell me…hold nothing back. And perhaps I’ll reward you with what you desire.”

You take a shaky breath and find his eyes in the mirror, making sure you have his attention as you voice all the things you’ve wanted to do to him since you’ve first met. “I want to see you naked. I want to run my hands up and down your legs as I suck your cock. I want to taste you…fuck you…please, Vergil! I need-”

Suddenly Vergil straightens his form, taking you with him as he forcefully turns you around to face him and slams his lips against yours. His arms squeeze you against his chest as he lifts your feet off the floor and props his thigh in between your legs. The sudden hard friction against your aching center makes you moan in sweet relief, your hips rocking subconsciously as you sought out any kind of release. You didn’t care if your looked like an animal rutting in heat…it felt too good for you to care at the moment.

Vergil’s keen eyes took notice of your subtle humping of his leg and one hand reaches behind you, expecting him to halt your movements…but instead he guides your hips as he presses his thigh closer to you. You can feel every indention of his pants and the smooth shift of his muscled leg. Your mouth leaves him as a stunning moan escapes your lips. It felt absolutely delicious, but you could feel your cheeks redden in embarrassment. This also didn’t escape his notice as a wicked laugh leaves his devilish lips.

“A truly salacious sight! Playing coy while finding pleasure on my thigh…does it feel good? Pleasuring yourself on my leg?” he asks as he grinds against you to add extra friction. You whine and nod your head, desperately trying to hold back from reaching your peak. But he continues to rock your hips against his thigh, and at this rate you’ll explode before any of your clothes come off. Vergil bends his head down against yours, his eyes fixate on your face as he spoke in a low, rumbling tone. “Don’t wait. Show me what my temptress looks like when she’s in the throes of passion.” Your eyes widen in shock at his words, your vulgar hips slowing a bit. Vergil huffs in displeasure and presses you closer to his leg. Taking the hint that he really meant it…you vigorously rub yourself on his thigh, letting go of all reservations and just give in to his naughty demand. All the tension that’s built up since meeting this man is coming to a head. You can hear Vergil’s labored breath as he watches, enraptured by watching you pleasure yourself on his leg.

“That’s right,” he mutters, spurring you on with his deep sensuous voice. “Come on.”

Vergil’s soft command is all it takes to finally bring you over the threshold. Your body tenses as you cry out in fervor, no longer caring that you got off on a man’s thick thigh. You vaguely register your dress being unzipped and a warm hand cupping your breast, a calloused thumb circling your nipple as it prolongs your high. Your hands clutch onto Vergil’s vest urgently, making sure that you were secure as a shiver runs through body. It makes your toes curl in your heels and your legs twitch as you slow your hips, letting the pleasurable wave carry you before it recedes and you float back down to reality.

When you come to your senses your open eyes and see Vergil staring down at you with awe. “Now that…was a ravishing show,” he marvels as he fully takes your dress off up over your head. “Worthy of applause…” He removes his thigh, the obvious slickness of your orgasm shining on his pants. You feel your cheeks blush as Vergil takes a finger and swipes some of it. “And an encore.” He brings that finger to his mouth and sucks, moaning softly at the taste of you.

You bite your lip and tilt your head to the side as you trail your hand down your body, pulling on the skimpy strap of your panties and snapping them back against your hip. This entices Vergil into action as he steps up close to you and grabs your hands, placing them on his still clothed chest. “Remove all my clothing and get on your knees,” he orders fiercely, making you shiver in anticipation as your fingers swiftly undid the buttons of his vest. You peel it away to reveal his well toned chest, and it takes everything in you to not reach out and feel every muscle. You kneel down and unbuckle his boots, removing them as he lifts each foot for you.

That only left him in his pants. As you undo the clasp at his waist you gaze up at Vergil, silently thanking him for letting you indulge in your fantasy. He smirks and his fingers caress your cheek, thumb coming up to your bottom lip and brushing it tenderly. You open your mouth and gently suck his thumb in, giving him a preview of what is to come. His lips curl up in a quiet snarl as your hands begin to pull his pants down with his underwear, your fingers caressing every inch of his legs you can get to on the way. His cock pops free and you can’t help to pause and admire its impressive size. You hear Vergil laugh, its cocky cadence echoing throughout the room.

“Eager to suck my cock and taste greatness?” he inquires boldly as he raises an eyebrow at you. You finish removing his pants and look back up at him, flashing him an impish grin as you blow a bit of air on the white hair trailing down to your prize. He hisses and grabs a handful of your hair, holding you still as he lightly palms his erection.

“Mmm…if you want me to taste greatness then you better hurry and shove that glorious cock of yours in my mouth,” you remark playfully. Vergil scoffs and releases your hair, his eyes gesturing for you to proceed with your dirty deed. You scoot a bit closer and make good on your claim, sliding your hands all over his calves and thighs. One of your hands gently grabs the base of his cock, holding it steady as you take your first lick on the tip. A pearl of precum spreads across your tongue and you moan at the taste. Cool and salty…just like the man standing before you.

You lavish every inch of his cock in earnest with your tongue, getting him ready for the warm cavern of your mouth. A long rumbling growl lets you know that he’s feeling good. His fingers are back in your hair, stroking your scalp encouragingly as you worship him. You suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue all round his head. Vergil grunts openly, not longer trying to retrain himself. You open your mouth and take in as much of him as you can, and begin to lazily suck his cock. His fingers massage your head enthusiastically and his breathing becomes staccato. Your eyes flicker over to the mirror and see his face the picture of total rapture. This makes your body heat up, seeing this man so relaxed…and it was all thanks to you.

Feeling motivated to really impress him you prepare to blow his mind. Your hands trail down his thigh, nails slightly scratching his skin as you open your throat and take all of him down to the base before quickly withdrawing to the tip. Vergil gasps above you, the muscles of his legs going taunt as his fingers grip your hair roughly. You do this a few more times, working your throat for his size before grasping his ass with both hands. Your eyes drift back to the mirror as you bury his entire length into your mouth, stopping at the base and suck hard. Vergil’s head falls back as a groan bursts from his lips and he growls when you start to gently thrust your mouth against his cock. His eyes again meet the mirror and you both watch as you do your damn best to drive him crazy. Your nipples harden and your slick heat aches as you feel the skin of his cock growing taunt, a sign that he’s close to release. You moan and once again your hips subconsciously rock to ease the tension. Vergil rubs your hair as he pointedly looks you in the eye in the mirror.

“Bring yourself pleasure once more. Let me hear how much you love the taste of my cock,” he commands.

You don’t have to be told twice. You bring one hand down to your core and slip it beneath your soaked panties. Remembering that Vergil is watching you in the mirror you balance yourself on your heels and provocatively spread your legs wide, making sure he sees you energetically rub yourself. You don’t last too long as you feel your body quickly respond to such an erotic sight. Your let your muffled scream ring out as you come again, almost missing the distinct quiver of his cock about to release. His guttural snarl signals you to prepare for his seed as it gushes into your mouth. You swallow every single drop, humming as you savor this man’s unique taste.

When his cock has no more seed to give you slowly remove your mouth, careful not to scratch him with your teeth now that he’s growing soft again. You settle down on your knees and rest your head on his hip as your arms hug his legs for balance. Vergil’s hand is still in your hair, gently petting your head as his labored breaths start to even out. In the mirror you see him staring calmly down at you. His hand cradles your head and lifts it up so he can see your face. Smoldering silver eyes with flickering blue hues take in your messy hair, swollen lips, and shaking body. You stare back up at your dancing devil and grin mischievously.

“So, did I truly dance with the devil?” you ask as your hands knead his thighs.

“Mmm…you are a bewitching vision on the dance floor, my lady,” he says with a charming grin. You beam up at him as he helps you to your feet. You sigh in relief to be off your knees as Vergil pulls you close, his bare chest against your sensitive nipples as he kisses you softly. You instantly respond and let him deepen it, the heated rush of before gone and replaced with lazy strokes of the tongue. When he breaks away you take the opportunity to voice the inevitable.

You tilt your head questioningly. “Well, that was the best dance I’ve ever had, but…now what?”

Vergil’s brow furrows in deep thought and for the first time since meeting him…he looks hesitant. “I am uncertain. I normally don’t indulge in spontaneous trysts.”

You squint your eyes in amusement. “Spontaneous trysts? That’s the fanciest way to say one night stand I have ever heard,” you giggle softly as your hands rub his smooth chest.

Vergil leers down at you mockingly as his hand spanks your bottom. “If you know what the proper etiquette is for this social situation then by all means…enlighten me.”

You bite your lip to hide your gleeful smile. “I don’t know if I would call it etiquette...but you just need figure out if you and your partner want to continue to see each other. If we decide to end it here and go about our separate ways, then we take the lovely memories of each other with us and recall them fondly when we’re lonely…but…” Your voice trails off as you slide your hands around his neck, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “The night is still young and as much as I love idea of letting you have your way with me standing in front of that mirror…my heels are killing my feet.”

You take a step back and look Vergil directly in the eye. “Come home with me. I have music, wine, and enough space for more dancing if it suits you.” Your eyes pointedly glance over at the mirror. “I also happen to have a mirror…right above my bed.”

Vergil has you back in his arms in an instant. He growls as he grinds his hips against you, his slightly hardening cock rubbing against your sheer panties. “You would invite the devil into your bed? Well, well…you truly are a brave temptress.”

You moan softly and give him a peck on his cheek. “I just know what I want…and I want you, Vergil,” you whisper as you wait for his answer. His fingers dig into your hips for a moment before he captures your lips in a heated kiss, igniting your desire once more. When he pulls away you see can practically see the dark promise of pleasure gleaming in his eyes.

“Allow me to lead the way out, my lady.”

Both of you help each other get dressed, once again letting your touches linger in your renewed game of seduction. Once you had all your belongings gathered you notice that Vergil is now holding what looks to be a katana. You raise your eyebrow quizzically, not really knowing how you haven’t noticed it until now, but you just shrug it off because its not strangest thing to see around here. As you head towards the door Vergil stops you and directs you to stand behind him. You are about to ask him why when he unsheathes his sword and swiftly cuts a cross in the air. As he sheaths his sword with a disciplined flourish, a blue light suddenly lights up the room as reality seems to rip open a portal before you. All you could do is stare dumbfounded at this display of power as Vergil turns to you and offers his arm to you. His nonchalance about the whole thing snaps you out of your astonished daze and you look at him incredulously as you take his arm.

Vergil lets out a cocky laugh. “I hope you’re prepared, my temptress.” He leans down and his low tenor voice whispers in your ear. “Because I won’t be leaving your bed until you’re bargaining for your sweet release and screaming my name.”

Once again he sets your body aflame as you finally realize that he must one of the prolific demon hunters of Red Grave City. Well shit…I really did dance with the devil! Vergil flashes you a devilish grin before leading you through the miraculous portal, towards whatever sinful games he has planned for you. You wrap yourself around his arm, pressing your breasts against him and looking up at him with hunger in your eyes.

How can you not resist another dance with this handsome devil?

Read on my Ao3

My Master List of you want more. ❤

[spartanguard]

sick of love (2/3)

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 | 8.3k | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | AO3

A/N: Onto chapter two!! 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! I’m planning to post the last chapter a week from now but that depends on how much writing gets done while I’m teaching at band camp...so if not then, then shortly thereafter. Happy reading! 

Wrong.

See, Emma had told herself that under the assumption that she’d only be seeing Killian once a week, in the controlled setting of Snow and Dave’s house, with them and Henry as buffers. That they’d be able to keep it completely chill and casual—sharing conversation over beer, maybe someday discussing their apparent shared aversion to soulmates, and who knows, getting drunk and having a makeout they don’t remember the next day. You know, keeping things safe.

Okay, maybe that last one was just something that had happened in her dreams—ones that were usually populated by whichever Marvel character was the focus of Henry’s obsession at the time, because damn did the women in their casting department know what they were doing. However, in the days following that first encounter, Killian’s face had replaced that of Thor in her fantasies, without conscious thought.

She was sure a therapist could have a field day with her, and would probably say that by fantasizing, she was keeping things in a risk-free environment where she had control. Which she was vaguely aware of. But honestly? It was a little annoying how easily he slipped in there, because the things she imagined and dreamed them doing...if she didn’t blush the next time she saw him, it’d be a miracle.

But she had until Friday to get that under control, and it was only Wednesday. That was totally doable. (Just like him...oh god, she needed to stop.)

Fate had other ideas in mind, though; it always does. Because of course, the skip got a little too aggressive while she was trying to take her down. How was Emma supposed to know the other woman carried a can of Monster in her purse? Or that it made an excellent blunt object? Despite getting whacked in the head, Emma still managed to bring her in. But the arresting officer took one look at the growing bruise on her forehead, and the blood she didn’t even realize was pouring out of it, before sending her to the ER for stitches and to check for a concussion.

Emma grumbled the whole time they drove her over, but knew it was better to be safe than sorry; she’d do the same if it was Henry in her place. And while she’d normally be worried about going to any place that involved a lot of contact, at least they had to wear gloves there.

After dealing with the typical harried nurse asking the requisite questions—any allergies, what medications was she on, was there a chance she could be pregnant (ha!), could she have lovesickness (double ha!)—she expected to see the worn-out woman again, who would inevitably fix her up, lecture her about living dangerously and/or her unseasonable attire, and then send her on her way. She was not expecting the curtain to pull back and reveal Killian, reading at her chart, wearing scrubs and a white coat.

“I see you need stitches, Miss Swan...Emma?” He looked up at her, surprised when he saw it was her—which also made her realize they’d never exchanged last names. 

“Hey, Dr.…” she had to squint to read the embroidery on his coat. “Jones.”

“Bloody hell, lass; what did you do?”

Like their first meeting, he jumped into action, tossing aside the clipboard and immediately inspecting her injury. She hated the deja vu this was giving her.

Even if this gave her a better look at the light freckles and the way his ears came to an almost elfin point. 

Whatever.

“Just a hazard of the job,” she said, hoping to downplay it; this certainly wasn’t the first time a skip had sent her here, and wouldn’t be the last.

“Hardly seems like a safe line of work,” he tutted, gently poking the mess on her head with his rubber-gloved hand. He hit a particularly sensitive spot, drawing a wince. “Sorry,” he said softly. “Yeah, you’re definitely going to need a few stitches. I’ll be right back.”

He returned shortly with the necessary materials and got to work. “I’ll have to numb this, but that should be the most painful part, aside from getting smacked in the face with...what hit you?”

“An energy drink.”

“Huh; that’s a new one.”

“Really? I figured they see everything in these kinds of places.”

“Oh, we do; but people are endlessly creative.”

She giggled, but it quickly went away when the numbing injection came, turning into a hiss. “Did you distract me on purpose?”

“Aye. Figured it was better than surprising you like last time.”

Her hand throbbed at the memory; it was mostly healed but she was still keeping it wrapped up. “I guess this tells me why you knew what to do right away.”

“Yeah,” he said, but she could tell he was focusing on the task at hand, and could feel the gentle tugging of the needle and sutures as he started to work—though that was all she could feel, thankfully. “And I can see why you were such a good patient; I get the impression you’re used to it,” he tossed back, smirking a bit.

“Hey, I’m not THAT clumsy; only when it comes to beverage containers, apparently.”

“I’ll be sure to keep my flask away from you, then.”

“A flask? What are you, a sailor?”

“Former Navy, yes.” 

Okay, she had to stop making these sweeping generalizations about him if they were all going to be proven true. “Wow; cool.”

“For the most part, yeah; some places were rather hot, though.”

She wanted to laugh but not if it meant moving while she was pretty sure a needle was in her skin, so settled for the stillest chuckle she could manage. “Did they teach you dad jokes in the Navy?”

“No, mostly just medicine.”

“This is the British Navy, right?”

“The Royal Navy of Her Majesty’s Armed Forces, yes.”

“Then how’d you end up over here?”

There was another, rougher tug on her laceration, but then Killian pulled away. “You’re all stitched up,” he said, but then he swallowed. “The Navy doesn’t have a ton of use for one-handed doctors, unfortunately, but they will give you a decent pension with your honorable discharge.”

“Well, that’s awfully ableist of them.”

“You won’t hear me disagreeing,” he concurred as he took off his gloves and cleaned up; she noticed that his false hand did have some articulation, but not a ton. “So, there wasn’t much left for me there after that happened, and I figured there must be some reason the colonists rebelled. So, here we are.”

She could tell he was mostly telling the truth, but definitely leaving parts out. “That’s a pretty flimsy reason to pack up and move across the ocean. What did your family say?”

He shrugged as he wrapped up the last of the suturing kit. “No one left to talk me out of it.”

A pit formed in her stomach and she realized they had a bit more in common. “Yeah, I know how that goes.”

He cocked his head as he returned from disposing the soiled instruments. “What about David and Snow? And your son?”

“Oh, they’re amazing; but I grew up in the foster system. I didn't end up with the Nolans until I was 15.”

“Ahh, you’re another lost one.”

The casual way he said it took her aback briefly. “I guess that’s one way of putting it. Are...are you?”

He pulled his little flashlight thing out of his coat pocket (she had no idea what it was really called) and fiddled with it a bit. “My mum died when I was young; dad left a few years later. So it was just me and my brother, but I entered the system when he joined the Navy. Then followed him in a few years later.” 

His somber tone, paired with the previous revelation about no more family, was enough to let her know that wasn’t quite all of it. “Can I ask what happened to him?” 

“After I check you for a concussion.” 

“Ugh, do I have to?”

“Yes,” he commanded.

She rolled her eyes, but let him perform the exam; better safe than sorry, right? “You’re clear there,” he told her, after a few simple tests that included pointing that damn flashlight in her eyes. And in a quieter voice, continued, “IED in Iraq. Head injury. I tried, but...I couldn’t save him.”

Well, that explained why he was so insistent on the concussion exam. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It is what it is,” he said, in a tone that suggested he was convincing himself of that as much as her, as he pocketed his flashlight and grabbed her chart again. “At least I can still help save other people.”

“Wish you’d been there when Neal came in,” she blurted, thinking out loud. Then mortification washed over her as she realized what she said. She never talked about what happened to Neal—only with Henry, and only when he asked.

“Guess it’s my turn to extend the condolences, then,” he said softly. 

She let go of the breath she’d been holding; most people were quick with empty platitudes, so it was almost refreshing to hear something sincere. And there it was again—that same intense, understanding look in his eyes from the other day; it felt like he was reading her like a book, and it was more than a little unsettling—but not in a way that scared her, oddly enough. Still, it was overwhelming enough for her to avert her gaze. “Don’t we make a pair, huh?” she scoffed. 

“I wouldn’t let Snow hear you say that if I were you,” he jibed. She could hear the laughter in his voice but didn’t dare look up just yet.

“She’s probably already got the wedding invitations on order.”

He laughed for real this time, a deep, hearty chuckle. “Hope they aren’t nonrefundable.”

“Same.”

He excused himself to go write up her prescriptions—an antibiotic and some extra-strength headache medicine—and returned a few minutes later with an easy smile on his face. He went back into doctor mode as he gave her care instructions for the next few days and weeks, and then asked, “Any questions?”

“Yeah, but it’s not related to any of that.”

He tilted his head in question. “What is it?”

“How exactly do you manage to do all this and...not touch anyone?” She’d been wondering it ever since he came into the room the first time. “It seems like a job like this would put you at higher risk of skin contact.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it does, to some extent,” he explained. “But when you’re already down a hand, that cuts the odds in half. And I just double up on gloves the rest of the time.”

She I thought his glove looked kind of thick. “Gotcha. Thanks for telling me; I was just curious, is all.” A slightly awkward silence settled over them; she felt like she needed to divulge something, after everything he had, but after dropping a Neal reference, she was kind of spent in the emotional backstory department. “So...no one has tried to claw at that pretty face of yours?”

He smiled at that, arching an eyebrow in apparent amusement. “No, thankfully; I’ve gotten fairly good at evasive maneuvers, ever since my brother gave me this,” he said, pointing to a faded scar on his cheek.

“Yeah, that was something I figured out pretty quick, too. But I guess my training never covered giant soda cans.”

“Well, that’s something to work on, then. Just not until this heals, okay?”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” she said with a salute

“Please, I was only a Lieutenant.”

“Eh, Captain suits you better. And thank you for this again.”

“Again, it was my pleasure, Swan.”

She casually hopped off the exam table, but apparently, her head wasn’t as ready for that as the rest of her body, and the room began to spin as soon as she was on her feet. She could feel herself swaying, but before her knees had a chance to buckle under her, a firm grip and strong arms stabilized her.

“Woah—easy there,” he cautioned. “You may not have a concussion, but that’s still a nasty bump.”

She took a deep breath as the vertigo dissipated, but the next one caught in her throat when she realized that he was the one holding her—and that she kind of liked it. Her eyes were immediately drawn to his hand and prosthesis, the way they were curled around her arms and holding her in place, but were still gentle.

He must have taken her staring for shock, because he quickly let go and stepped out of her space. “You okay now?”

“Y-yeah,” she said, shaking her head to clear the momentary fog—and to try to get rid of the sense of loss she felt as soon as he’d moved away. “I guess I better get going with these,” she said lamely, nodding toward the prescription slips she’d shoved in her pocket.

“Yeah; the pharmacy closes soon.” His voice was a bit rougher than it’d been a minute ago, and that faraway look was back in his eyes. “See you Friday?”

“Yeah, see you then,” she said, then left as quick as she could.

Shit. How was she going to be able to keep things casual if he continued to have that kind of effect on her?

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

When Friday rolled around, she almost wanted to feign sickness to get out of going. His steady hand had also found its way into her dreams, as well as what was surely a strong, warm embrace. There was no way she could face him now.

But she knew Henry would see through any excuse she tried to throw at him—he had inherited her built-in lie detector to some extent—so she just swallowed her pride, grabbed her usual bottle of wine, and they headed off. 

“Whose car is that?” Henry asked as soon as they pulled up.

“Killian’s,” she answered grumpily.

“Is he why you didn’t want to come? Is he a dick?”

“Hey, language!” she scolded. “And he’s not; he’s...I dunno, the opposite, or something. You’ll see.”

Her brother had finally bowed to the summer heat and turned on his air conditioning, so everyone was seated around the living room when they got inside: Dave and Snow on their respective recliners (Emma joked they were their Carl and Ellie chairs), and Killian on one end of the sofa, leaving the rest of it open for her and Henry.

David and Snow got up and exchanged the requisite hugs, complete with Snow fussing over Emma’s stitches, but Killian hung back, understandably. Seeing him back in his leather jacket and dark wash jeans again was almost a jolt from how soft he’d looked in his scrubs, but she knew why he’d default back to his armor; heck, she’d even put on some more tonight, opting for a long-sleeve crewneck instead of the v-necked t-shirts she’d been wearing. 

He gave her a simple “Swan” as a greeting, and she nodded back, before introducing Henry to him. “A pleasure to meet you, lad,” he said, offering his gloved hand. Henry studied it a minute, then cast a curious glance at Emma before taking it. Knowing Henry, he was already putting two and two together; with any luck, she’d be able to keep him out of Snow’s plotting, at least.

Emma left to the kitchen to pour wine for her and Snow, but when she got back, Henry was giving Killian the full 21 questions: where was he from, what did he do, all that jazz.

“How did you lose your hand?”

“Henry David,” she said in warning—he knew better than to ask stuff like that—but Killian didn’t seem fazed. 

He leaned toward Henry conspiratorially. “Well, don’t tell anyone else, but...a crocodile took it!” His voice was full of childish humor and even his eyes sparkled with it. Henry gasped and then laughed, aware it was a joke but no less entertained.

“So does that make you Captain Hook?” he asked.

“Perhaps; my ship is named the Jolly Roger.”

As soon as that came up, Henry’s attention was completely taken by the fact that there was a potential pirate sitting next to him and all thoughts of more personal questions went out the door, thankfully. And bless Killian, he answered all of Henry’s questions seriously (excluding the first one) and didn’t seem put off the boy’s endless curiosity like a lot of adults were; this was a kid who had to transfer classes in first grade because his old-fashioned teacher couldn’t tolerate all his questions. But Killian handled it with ease.

The only thing that could take Henry off the thought of high seas adventure was food, and he made a mad dash to the table once dinner was ready. “Thanks for that,” Emma told Killian after they were left in Henry’s dust. “I know he can be a bit much.”

“Nonsense; he’s a brilliant lad,” Killian waved off. “You should be proud.”

“Oh, I am.”

It didn’t go without notice that Killian had provided the beer for this meal. She stuck to her wine while they ate, but afterwards, as she watched David and Henry throw around a football in the front yard from the double rocker on the porch, she gave his a try. And yeah, it was significantly better.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Killian was standing by the door, leaning against the brick siding and sipping from his own bottle. One long leg was crossed over the other, highlighting just how well those skinny jeans fit him. Something about it was insanely hot, both literally and figuratively. 

And it only got worse when he pushed off the wall with his hips and sauntered forward. “Much better than David’s alcohol-flavoured water, no?”

“Oh, for sure,” she agreed. “Definitely what you need on a day like today.” Granted, she probably shouldn’t be drinking booze at all with how much she was sweating, but she’d long since learned how to make sure she didn’t dehydrate in the summer—and, given the fact that he wasn’t keeling over, either, so had Killian.

“Is this seat taken?” he inquired, nodding at the empty half of the rocker.

“Go ahead.”

For a few minutes, they just sat there in companionable silence, watching the continued passes in the yard, until Killian finally said, “They know that’s not real football, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna show up next week with a soccer ball, aren’t you?”

“What makes you think I don’t already have one in my car?”

“Why am I not surprised?” she chuckled. “But that’s another thing you’d have to fight David over.”

“I figured as much,” Killian sighed. “He’s as stubborn as my brother.”

“Must be a big brother thing, then.”

“Aye, probably.” He took a long pull on his beer. “David’s great with Henry, it seems.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “He was kind of born to be an uncle; he’s been there since day one. I can only imagine how great a dad he’ll be someday.”

“If you don’t mind my asking—where is Henry’s father?”

It wasn’t an uncommon question; more than one snoop-nosed PTA mom had asked that and sneered. Killian was the first to ask it in a non-judging way. “He’s gone. Neal—the guy I mentioned the other day; that's him.”

He nodded, understanding. “I probably should have guessed from your tone. What happened?”

She swallowed; it had been so long since that night.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he was quick to assure her.

“No, it’s fine. He...well, we were something of teenage delinquents,” she started to explain. “We ran away, kind of shoplifted our down the East Coast. He was older and dreamy, especially to a 16-year-old girl who’d never had much. I thought he was the one, you know? Everything just seemed...better with him.” She hadn’t known exactly what being soulmates entailed, but for a touch-starved orphan growing up in the foster system—moreso, in a society that placed so much emphasis on physical contact—once she had finally discovered that bliss, she’d given herself over to it fully. The first time he held her hand, she swore there were sparks. When she saw the love in his eyes, it filled her with a warmth that she’d never known before, deep in her soul. He filled her dreams so often, she thought they had to be shared. And making love? To be fair, he was her first, but—damn.

“Aye, I know that,” he added, and that distant look was back in his eyes.

“So, yeah, we’re in love and making plans and just need a bit of extra cash to get us to Florida, where we planned on settling down.” She snorted. “Settling down at 16; god, I was dumb. Anyways, he tried to sell some watches to make up what we needed for a plane ticket, but the deal went sour and...he got shot.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, softly. She could still clearly remember what went down in that ambulance, as they tried to revive him and couldn’t, then her being the only one available to identify the body. “And the rest, I guess, is history.”

Killian chewed on his bottom lip a bit; there was still something on his mind. “Was...was he your soulmate?”

She swallowed again; this was the really personal part. “I don’t know.” The only people she’d admitted that to were close family, and even they remained a bit skeptical—how could she not know? “I thought I was getting lovesickness a few weeks later, but then I found out I was pregnant, so I’ve never really been sure if it was or not.”

Killian’s eyes grew wide for a moment and he studied her solemnly. “So that’s why you cover up? In case he wasn’t?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. It was a little unnerving that he’d figured it out so easily.

“I...uh,” he stammered, nervously scratching at a spot behind his ear. “Um, same.”

“Same?”

“Yeah.”

She hadn’t expected that; she’d never met anyone else who shared her uncertainty. While covering up wasn’t an odd thing, it was usually only done by people who truly hated the idea of the system altogether—not those who had been potentially burned by it.

He took her silence as an invitation to continue. “Her name was Milah; she lived near the base. We met in a pub and it was...a whirlwind, honestly, but she was incredible. And it was like you said: everything felt amazing; I had no reason to believe we weren’t soulmates, save for one minor problem.”

“What was that?”

“She was married.”

“Fuck. Was he hers?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so, but I never got a chance to find out for sure. Once he learned she was cheating on him with me, he messed with her car. I’m still not entirely sure what happened, but we were in it and she lost control; hit a tree. She died on impact; I...well, this.” He held up his prosthetic.

“Oh my god, Killian—I’m so sorry.”

He gave her a sad smile. “The Navy took care of me as best they could, but I was still out of it for a long time as I healed, and dealt with infection and whatnot. I think it was three months or so? So I have no idea if I had lovesickness or not in there. And I...I wasn’t sure I wanted one if it wasn’t her. Thus...” He nodded down towards his attire.

“Yeah.” She definitely understood. 

It took a bit for the weight of the conversation to settle on them; they were quiet for a few minutes, until Emma got fidgety, as if she needed to move to make her thoughts come to a rest. Seriously—what were the odds she’d literally stumble into someone who actually got her? It was simultaneously exciting and terrifying.

She shifted in her seat to relieve some of the tension building within, and that’s when she realized just how close they were sitting—she’d barely moved when her thigh brushed against his, heat radiating from it that likely had as much to do with the ambient temperature as her own heightened awareness. As casually as she could muster, she pulled it back, but couldn’t tell if he noticed or not.

“Who knew we’d be trading tragic backstories after only a week?” he finally commented, giving her a gentle smile.

She smiled back. “I’d repeat what I said the other day, but Snow is in earshot. So...cheers?” This time, she was the one to offer up her bottle.

“Cheers,” he echoed, clinking the lip of his against the neck of hers, which gave her some other thoughts she didn’t really want to entertain long at the present moment.

They were both taking long pulls from their drinks when Snow herself came out, almost as if she was summoned. “Don’t you two look cozy?” she commented, unable to hide the twinkle in her eye at the thought. 

“Ew, no, it’s too hot to think about that,” Emma threw back. Between the humid air and whatever had just passed between her and Killian, she was almost thinking about taking off her jacket. Almost.

“Well, how about coming back into the AC for some pie?”

“Sounds perfect, milady,” Killian answered for both of them; Emma usually hated that but couldn’t really find it in her to complain.

Snow shouted at the other guys and headed back in; David and Henry immediately followed, pounding up the stairs to the porch and hardly giving a passing glance to its current residents.

“Shall we?” Killian asked as the screen door banged shut, a sound that was quickly followed by Snow yelling at Dave.

“Yeah; if we dawdle, Snow will get ideas.”

“I’m under the impression that anything will.”

“Also true.”

He chuckled as he stood. The motion made the chair start rocking under Emma, making her jolt—they’d kept it still while they were sitting on it.

Wordlessly, he held out his false hand to her, and just as unconsciously, she took it and stood. She didn’t even think about it until she was back on her feet, and then found herself staring at their joined hands. Even though his was fake, even though hers was gloved, she swore she felt heat.

Her eyes darted up to look at him, to see his reaction—and he too was staring at their joined hands with a bit of awe. Did he mean to do that, and expect her not to take it? Or was it as instinctive as her move was?

Either way, she quickly pulled her hand back and stuck it in her jeans pocket. “Uh, thanks,” she blurted, then turned to head in the house; his heavy footfalls followed her, as did a sense of deja vu.

The rest of the evening went without incident—unless Henry losing his mind to the sound of Killian’s ringtone (the theme to Pirates of the Caribbean) counted—until Killian got called into work and Emma decided they should head out, too (but not before he insisted on checking on her stitches).

She’d honestly never met anyone that threw her so off balance as Killian. It was so nice to finally have a friend that understood her, so maybe it was just that novelty that was throwing her for a loop. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on, and she wasn’t sure it was welcome.

Oh, well. Once a week—she only had to see him once a week, barring any more emergency room trips. She could do this. They could do this.

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

And they did, for a while. The next few weeks, she only saw him at the Nolans, with his charming self and his good beer and his soccer ball, which Henry unsurprisingly took to quickly—her son had the incredible knack to learn anything with ease. Other than a jab at her usual doctor for not taking more care in the way he removed Emma’s stitches, they managed to avoid any other close calls, physically or emotionally—and he seemed just as keen to stay away from those as Emma.

They fell into a pretty casual friendship, and when they weren’t inadvertently baring their souls to one another, she genuinely enjoyed his company, as well as the buffer it gave her against Snow’s constant fairy tale romance ideals. They’d chat about music, movies, books, sports, and he was great with Henry, too—actually, he was almost better with him than she was when it came to what might be classified as Henry’s nerdier interests, like comics and role-playing games. She was dangerously close to being roped into a game of Dungeons and Dragons, with Henry as the DM and Killian as a rogue (or so she was told—she didn’t quite know what that meant).

(Although the idea of Killian as a pirate on an adventure? That was definitely an image that stuck with her, and had been ever since his Captain Hook reference...she kept that private, however.)

Everything was easy until the day she got on the train much earlier than usual, exhausted after an all-night stakeout (that thankfully landed in a nab) and desperate for a seat—and the only one open was right next to a weary-looking Killian.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, standing in front of him.

His eyes darted up warily, but his face broke into a grin when he realized it was her. “Of course, Swan; have at it. I didn’t know you rode this train.”

“Almost every day,” she said as she plopped down. “Just usually not so early.”

“You got the bail jumper that quick?”

“Eh,” she shrugged. “More like it took way too long. Overnight job.”

“Same; you must be beat. At least this one didn’t go for the face.”

She snorted. “Thank god. I almost considered starting to wear a ski mask, but it probably wouldn’t look good if I started dressing like the criminals I’m supposed to be catching.”

He laughed. “Maybe you can in the winter.”

“Maybe. God, I can’t wait for it to get cold again so I can wear scarves without anyone looking at me weird.”

“Right?”

They traded stories about adventures and misadventures they’d had with the way they covered up; his mostly had to do with patients tearing his clothes, although there was one story about a woman who tried to get admitted to the lovesick wing after claiming he’d kissed her when, in all reality, he’d treated her for the flu a week prior and she was just still sick—not an altogether uncommon phenomenon.

“I had a guy try to do that to me once, too,” she told him. “It was several years ago when I wasn’t wearing gloves yet and made the mistake of shaking hands with a furniture salesman; when I went to pick up the stuff a couple weeks later, he was clearly ill and tried to convince me we were meant to be.”

“And you felt completely fine?”

“Obviously.”

“Some people are just that desperate.”

“It’s ridiculous!”

She’d been so caught up in the conversation that she hardly noticed they were at her stop. Nor did the train conductor, apparently, because the brake came on hard. Emma had to grip the pole next to her to avoid being completely thrown into Killian’s side, but was able to lean away enough that only her hip bumped into his. His scrubs must have been terribly thin, because she could feel the heat coming off his body even more than the day they’d been on Snow and Dave’s porch.

“Well, this is me,” she said as she stood. “It was nice seeing you!”

“Wait,” he called, then stood up with her. “This might seem a bit forward, but I was wondering...could I take you and Henry out to dinner sometime?”

She was a bit stunned at the request; she hadn’t been asked out in...well, not since creepy Walsh tried to tell her they were soulmates. But she knew Killian wasn’t looking at it that way. She also knew she had to answer before the train rolled off with her still on it.

“Uh, yeah, sure—we’d love to; when’s good for you?”

“Tonight, tomorrow?”

“I really don’t feel like cooking tonight.”

“Tonight it is. You know where the Regina Pizzeria is on Cambridge?”

“Of course.”

“6:30?”

“Sounds perfect. See you then!”

She managed to get off the train right as the doors were closing, but glanced back and saw him smiling at her as the train pulled away; she couldn’t help but return it, especially with the way his hair was adorably hanging in his face. He really was cute.

And friends can be cute. Platonically cute. Yes. That’s a thing she’d been reminding herself a lot over the past few weeks.

She immediately passed out when she got home, only waking up to the sound of Henry arriving back from his sleepover at the Nolans. He obviously loved the idea of going out for pizza and seeing Killian, but apparently had some concerns.

“Are you sure he meant both of us? I don’t want to be the third wheel.”

“What the—what?” Where would he get that idea? “Yes, he specifically said your name; and you’re my kid; you’re not a third wheel.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t want to cockblock Killian.” 

She was stunned. The only admonishment she could come up with was, “Henry David.” 

“What? He totally likes you and you totally like him. I may be a kid but I still have eyes; you’re both so obvious.”

That definitely left an impact on her. Henry knew everything—what happened in the past and why she wrapped up; she assumed he’d figured out that Killian was the same. That that was exactly why they got along: there was no pretense, no double entendre—just two people being friends. (Really good friends, it was turning out to be.) 

Was she sending mixed signals? Was Killian sending some that she wasn’t picking up on? Was she so far out of the game that she didn’t even know what the signals looked like anymore?

This was not the kind of thing she needed on her mind when she was supposed to be having a casual dinner with a casual friend.

“Stop overthinking it, Mom,” Henry called from his room, where he’d retreated. “Just be normal.”

Easier said than done. She walked into the pizza place ready to be a bit more reserved, but then he smiled when he saw them and any resolve she had was left at the door.

And any lingering traces of it disappeared when Henry, in his excitement over something that happened in his last game of D&D, knocked over her water glass—and Killian was the one to rush forward with napkins. For her lap. He set a few on her thigh before realizing what he’d done—and where his hand was—before backing away.

Part of her wanted to tell Henry, “See? He’s not interested.” But that would involve telling him where hands on thighs usually ended up and she wasn’t ready for that conversation anytime soon.

But from then on, Killian was a constant presence. It wasn’t really done by conscious effort; it just kind of...happened. 

Like their weekly tradition with the Nolans, pizza night with Killian became a thing, too, especially with the discovery that he didn’t live all that far away from them—his apartment was just a handful of blocks from theirs. They didn’t stick to just pizza—Chinese and Mediterranean found their way into the rotation regularly, among others—and the day varied depending on work schedules, but they ended up sharing meals at least a couple times a week. 

Every few days, she and Killian would find themselves on the same train, and their 20-minute chats covered everything. He shared stories of growing up in England with Liam; she talked about the revolving foster home doors of her upbringing. He described the oppressive heat and constant fear during his deployment in the Middle East, but the incredible sense of camaraderie with his crew mates; she relayed how scared she was staring at the positive pregnancy test at 17, and even more so during delivery, but the immediate relief and joy at holding Henry for the first time. They discussed their jobs, too—how watching his mother die of illness first pushed him into medicine and the challenges of being a one-handed ER doc, and how she kind of fell into bail bonds when she helped catch the guy who shot Neal after he skipped bail; how now, it helped her bring other people to justice. 

And they traded the tales of their lost loves, which were almost eerily similar in their whirlwind nature and tragic end—not to mention the scars left on their hearts. 

“Do you ever wonder if you made the right choice, though?” Killian asked her one day; he’d just treated a couple brought in after an accident and it was obvious it had hit close to home. “Like...do you ever doubt yourself? With all this?”

It wasn’t hard for her to answer. “Yeah, I do.” The more time passed, the more she wondered if she’d been right in her initial assessment���if there really had been evidence that Neal was her soulmate, or if she’d been off base. “But what’s worse—knowing you had a soulmate and losing them, or never finding them at all?”

Killian nodded. “Too true, lass—too true.” He furrowed his brow in thought, though, as if working up the courage for his next statement. “But what if they were still out there?”

Her heart skipped a beat; was he talking about himself? God, she hoped not (...or did she?). Regardless, it was definitely something she’d thought about, too. “If they are, I’m still not sure. I’ve had enough of being passed over and pushed around for one lifetime; I want to be chosen by someone, not just fated to be with them. So at least I know I had that—for a little bit, anyway.”

He studied her, seeming to soak in her words. “I can’t say I’ve ever thought of it that way, but...you’re right.”

She never would’ve thought some of the most intimate conversations of her life would take place on a public train, but the way Killian gave her his undivided attention, with understanding in those bright blue eyes, somehow made it feel like they were the only people in the car. 

And he was always so...close. Physically. It was almost as if in their dance around each other trying to avoid touch, they only ended up waltzing closer. There was the time she nearly slipped in Snow’s kitchen after Henry spilled water (again) and he grabbed her by the arm to keep her upright. Or the night he nearly stepped into traffic as they were leaving their favorite sushi place and she had to tug him back by the bicep. Not to mention when they nearly hugged in farewell as they left the Nolans’ one night—especially after Henry had given him a fierce one. It had just felt natural to do the same, but they caught themselves at the same moment. Awkwardly, she offered up her elbow instead, which he gamely bumped with his own, but it was a near miss on both their parts. 

(Emma was still pretending she hadn’t heard Henry mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like “oh my god, just kiss already.”)

He was the one to give her a boost when a slip kept evading her. “I’ve yet to see you fail, Swan,” he assured her, and she couldn’t help but believe it. 

She returned the favor when he was upset over losing a young patient. “Trust me—you’ve got more than one mark in the hero column.”

His laugh became one of her favorite sounds. His smile never failed to brighten her days. And she’d never seen someone so good with Henry other than her brother. 

Without anyone really noticing, they’d become part of each other’s lives seamlessly—a fact that finally hit her when he was the first person she texted when she finally caught the elusive skip, not David or Snow like she used to. 

Emma knew that should freak her out in some way. What would happen if Killian got a job out of town? Or if he actually did like her-like her, but didn’t want to deal with her emotional walls and/or possible rejection? (She had no idea how’d she’d respond to that.) Because by late summer, he’d become such a constant that she was having a hard time remembering what life was like before he was in it.

That was a lie; she knew exactly how it’d been: lonely. She knew she didn’t “need a man” or whatever, or even romance, but she couldn’t deny that she’d been severely lacking in the kind of companionship he provided—someone outside her family she could be close to. 

On one of the last Saturdays of the summer, she and Henry were taking Killian on their own version of the Freedom Trail—all the parts they found coolest, at least. They started at Boston Common and had worked their way over to Faneuil Hall, giving Killian plenty of time and opportunity to curse out the statue of Sam Adams for “irresponsibly condemning this city to a lifetime of inadequate, tasteless ale”, before showing him the marketplace. Emma’s heart did a strange stutter when she saw his eyes grow wide at the spectacle ahead of him—it was too adorable. 

And then Henry was shouting something about one of street performers and grabbing Killian’s prosthesis to drag him off to see them. And then Killian, in turn, took hold of her hand at the last second, nearly yanking her arm from her socket as she got pulled away.

She didn’t yelp or cry out, though—she laughed; screamed, even, in surprise and joy as she was dragged along by two of her favorite boys. Killian glanced over his shoulder, as if to make sure she was still there, and gave one of the biggest grins she’d ever seen.

The three of them nearly crashed together when Henry came to a sudden stop; she instinctively grabbed Killian’s bicep to brace herself from smacking into him. It took a minute for them to catch their breath, and at the end of it, she realized she was still gripping Killian’s hand in hers. Her palm was sweating in its leather confine, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of the way their fingers had so easily intertwined.

Killian must have taken the way she was staring as something other than awe, because as soon as he noticed, he let go and stepped away. He scratched behind his ear—what she’d come to identify as a nervous tick—as he turned his attention on the busker, so she too tried to play it cool.

That was the most physical contact she’d had with someone outside of her family in literal years—that she actually wanted, at least. And she was pretty positive the same went for him.

Despite the heat, she shivered. Was she really considering something that was vaguely romantic? She firmly believed in platonic relationships—in particular, the platonic-ness of theirs—but it wasn’t hard for her to imagine more, especially if her dreams were any indication (they almost exclusively featured him nowadays, and in far less fanatastical settings than they once had). So deep down, she knew there was a (very small) part of her that wanted it.

She attempted to ignore it; it was, after all, just another in their long line of weird clashes that sent sparks through her body, another of which happened later that day when they were eating at Regina Pizzeria (again) and their fingers brushed when she handed him a plate.

And whatever that weirdness was, it didn’t affect their friendship, or his with Henry. As they sat there at their table, enjoying the meal and listening (and laughing) to Henry’s stories about school, the only thing she could really feel was happy. And, she had to admit, happier than she’d been in a long time.

Outsiders would probably make some inferences on their familial appearance, and maybe there was a slight chance it could be like that some day, once she had more time to warm up to the idea; but what they had was perfect, and didn’t need to change.

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

As has been stated in the past, however, the universe is a dick.

It was the Sunday before Labor Day, but the standard work week doesn’t mean much for people working in emergency medicine and bail bonds. At least Emma had wrapped up early for the day—nabbed her mark as he was leaving mass, ironically—and hopped on the crowded train, filled with people heading home from church.

“Swan! Over here,” came the familiar shout from the middle of the car; Killian was standing at one of the poles in the middle, his right arm holding it tight and with just enough space next to him for her to slip in. Her left hand came to rest on the pole just below his, and the train shuddered off a moment later; she had to bend her knees to keep from falling into him.

“Well, did you get your man?”

“Yup. And his priest saw the whole thing.”

“Ooh,” Killian winced. “Hope he’d already gone to confession.”

He caught her up on the craziness of his last shift, as had become habit at this point, before moving to his usual simple request for “So, dinner?”

She was ready to say yes, until she remembered. “Oh, sorry—Henry has a sleepover tonight. Last one before school starts.”

“Ahh,” Killian nodded understanding. “Well,” he started, and then his nervous tick came out again, as he scratched behind his ear with his prosthesis and stared at the floor. “My invitation still stands, if you’d like.”

She swallowed. She hadn’t been alone with Killian...well, not since the first day they met, when he cleaned her hand in the Nolans’ half bath. There’d always been someone else there as a buffer.

Not all that long ago, she would have been terrified at the idea. But now...she was kind of excited by it. Or maybe “intrigued” was the better word. She certainly didn’t hate it.

Her walls wouldn’t let her be so obvious, though. “Are you asking me out on a date or something?” she teased, smirking; she also had a bit of extra endorphins running through her system after that morning’s takedown.

“Do you want it to be one?” he tossed back, except he was serious.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a bit; despite all their conversations—despite the fact that he knew basically everything about her—this was the most exposed she’d ever felt with him. “Would it be okay if I did?” she said quietly, only loud enough for him to hear.

A slow smile took over his face, starting in the corners of his eyes and lighting up his whole face. Those butterflies in her stomach began to flutter again at the sight of it, and she could feel her face involuntarily mirroring it—until she was rudely jolted.

Looking back on the moment, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The train slammed on the brakes, which was nothing new, but the car wasn’t usually packed like a sardine. The man behind Emma hadn’t been holding onto anything, so he was sent reeling forward, crashing into her back and pushing her toward Killian, who instinctively put his free arm out to catch her.

She didn’t have time to grab his arm, though, before her chest was colliding with his. Logically, she knew she should be feeling a shock at the collision and no doubt have her wind knocked from her, but all she could feel—emotionally, at least—was a completely foreign rush of worry and, stranger still, love.

Fuck, she thought.

«Bloody hell,» was the echo within her mind—but that wasn’t her voice. It was Killian’s.

In her brain.

She opened her eyes, not realizing she’d been squinting them shut, only to realize her cheek was pressed up against Killian’s and he still had his arm wrapped around her, holding her close.

Holding her.

Against his skin.

Oh, no.

The train came to a stop just as she jumped away from him; people would probably say it looked like she’d been burned, and she supposed in a way she had been. This couldn’t be happening.

“Emma?” he breathed, eyes wide and incredulous.

“I—I—” she stammered. “I...can’t.”

Not wasting another moment, she turned and ran—off the train, out of the station, halfway home. He’d shouted her name as she was leaving but she didn’t stop. Her phone buzzed several times but she ignored it. She didn’t stop even to breathe until she was in her apartment, with the door locked behind her.

She’d just imagined it, right? He must have said it out loud. She only felt those things because he was hugging her. That was why he was surprised; it had to be.

There was no way that Killian Jones was her soulmate.

Right?

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

thanks for reading! Hope to see you for the last chapter!

tagging some peeps: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @optomisticgirl @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

[aelaer]

300

Tumblr’s algorithm picked up my last whumptober post and that unexpectedly rocketed me up to over 300 followers (welcome new folks, I haven’t had a chance to even look at y’all yet). But really it’s quite flattering. (I think at least 10% of them are pornbots, but beggars can’t be choosers.)

So I guess in uh, celebration/woohoo, I’m just gonna post snippets from my WIPs (outside of the whumptober ones as those are coming out in the next couple days) which… well, it’s something. :3 Yes it all has to do with Stephen, I’m going one-trick-pony mode right now and it’s a friggin blast.

This is long and has WIPs of art too, so cut cut cut bellllooww.

The farking Doctor Strange/Sherlock crossover that’s been at 80% complete since July and still has no title

However, before Sherlock got caught up into the cloak once again, he forced his eyes to the man’s hands. A lot could be discovered by someone’s hands.

And what hands they were. His eyes involuntarily widened at the sight of the ragged, and in some places hypertrophic scars on the back side of each finger. He quickly looked to the other hand; they were there, too. Clearly they were crushed in some sort of accident, but an accident that left him upright and without any hint of a limp. It was possible that they were caught in some sort of machinery, but both at the same time? Statistically speaking, a car accident was more likely. A car accident that damaged the bonnet of the car and crushed his fingers between the steering wheel and the dashboard, more than likely leaving permanent nerve damage. Unfortunate.

The age of the scars showed that they were healed over, but their nature made it difficult to determine how long ago they were received. With the overall lack of fading, however, it was likely that the damage occurred within the last few years. He could not see his palms and determine anything from there, but the callus upon his right middle finger determined which hand he wrote with. Or once wrote with, at any rate. His hands could certainly be worthy of further study, if only to attempt to determine their surgical history.

Upon his left wrist was, of all things, a wristwatch. He narrowed his eyes. It was a Jaeger-LeCoultre and it was not a counterfeit by any means, but it was not a model he recognized. It looked very similar to the Master Ultra Thin Moon only just released; was this an early prototype for a new model? Even as the question fluttered through his mind, he immediately chastised himself for his stupidity. There was clear wear on the band that spoke of it being worn for years, never mind the cracked face. 

Custom-made, he eventually concluded, though even that answer did not quite sit right with him. Regardless, it spoke of a man who had wealth— or used to, in any case. The wear and damage on the watch told a new picture now, but he seemed to still be connected to some form of influence. His clothing was of a very rich quality, and that was not including the unique cloak. Perhaps he was now connected with someone in the Greater Tibetan area, or someone of wealth in the Indian subcontinent. Or from there, at any rate. 

He let his eyes go up the length of the man’s sleeves. Cloth bands decorated the forearms of his otherwise seemingly-plain shirt, likely made of wool and hemp. He indulged himself and studied the embroidery on the edge of the cloak again. He received no further information concerning its origin and make beyond what he had already determined, but there was something about it that was absolutely enchanting.

But enough lingering; he finally turned his body to lay on his side and brought his eyes up to meet the bearer of this very odd ensemble of attire.

And he saw himself.

Within the Shadows (villain!AU) sequel that finalllyyy has a title, Inhibited Lodgings (I think this one is about at 85%! So soooonnnn)

When one of the nurses came in with dinner, Stephen hardly acknowledged him. The nurse set the tray on the overbed table and, after a quick, “Eat while it’s hot!” left the room.

Stephen ignored it. He continued his obsessive perusal of the tablet, shaky fingers managing to steady enough to click link after link after link.

Stark came in an hour later and the tray was still untouched. He quirked his brows up. “Y'know Doc, if you don’t eat, Doctor Cho is going to be very stern with you and you’ll feel terrible after that.”

He raised his head from the tablet at the sound of Stark’s voice, blinking. “What?” He then looked at the tray of food. “Oh… right. I forgot that was brought in.” He looked at the now stone-cold chicken and broccoli with a small grimace.

“I’ll have them make you another plate. Send that info up, FRI.” Stark sunk into one of the chairs beside the bed. “What has you so distracted, anyway?”

Stephen turned the tablet around to show him his screen, which had a list of all the Billboard Hot 100 and Billboard 200 for all genres in 2011. “I only considered yesterday that there might be differences in music between my reality and this one. A check to see if my favorite artists existed here turned into something of a full day project.”

Stark was clearly interested. “No kidding. Did you find any differences?”

“Dozens. In some ways it’s amazing that it’s only that many across hundreds of artists and songs, but I cannot imagine not having Rocky’s training montage paired with ‘Eye of the Tiger.’ ”

“I know I’ve seen a couple of those films, but I couldn’t tell you the name of any training song off the top of my head,” he said. “But I’d probably remember a song with that name.”

He nodded. “Exactly! I can live without the 'Macarena’ and 'Kung Fu Fighting’, but that song made that sequence legendary.”

Stark’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’ll take your word for it. Anything particularly good from your reality that you found missing?”

“I’m still debating if losing all of Journey’s discography is worth never having to hear 'Don’t Stop Believing’ again.”

Time Travel Pseudo!villain Stephen aka Freakin Carmen Sandiego (yes, this is gonna happen. But it’s not happening until those two above are completed, and it’ll be written concurrently with the rest of the villain!Stephen series, as I suspect it will be on the longer side. The outline’s 4 pages long…)

He walked over and crossed his arms as Bruce replayed the video; it was definitely a better quality than the pixelated mess of everything else he’d seen so far. Even with the high-definition, though, the man’s fully-black outfit made him difficult to see against the night sky, and his face was completely covered by what looked like both a mask and hood. He’d be all-but-invisible without the glowing lights all around him. A gasp suddenly ran through the crowd, and the camera swiveled to look at the Palace of Westminster, now bereft of the tower. A few shouts then broke through, and the camera footage swung back to the night sky, but the man was gone.

“Where’d he go?” Tony asked as he leaned over Bruce and pressed both the replay and mute button.

“Uh, according to witnesses, after Elizabeth Tower vanished, he darted under the bridge— probably at the end with the screaming there— and disappeared.”

“I thought that was Big Ben,” he muttered, pressing replay again.

Bruce shook his head. “No, Big Ben’s the bell in Elizabeth Tower. I knew someone in college— British— who got rather annoyed over that misnomer. Really annoyed, actually.” He made a face to himself.

Tony, however, was busy squinting at a bit of the footage he had paused. “Does it look like he has a sort of— something— on his chest?”

The physicist leaned in and squinted alongside him. “Yeah. I’d say it almost looks like one of your arc reactors, but I don’t think your arc reactors do this.”

“But it could still be a power source,” Tony answered. 

“Definitely,” Bruce answered. “It looks almost like he’s pulling from it.”

“That makes no sense, but a lot of this alien tech is nothing like anything that exists on Earth right now. I’d be interested in figuring out how it works.”

Bruce continued to peer at it. “So would I,” he said. “If you can keep it from S.H.I.E.L.D long enough to do so.”

Tony makes a face. “They have the scepter to play with. They can have it when I’m done.”

“You’re going to have to catch him first,” he pointed out.

“Pshh, after Loki, this’ll be easy-peasy. We’ll have him caught within two days.”

ARTS (just the two Stephens for now)

I didn’t have time last weekend to work on digital Stephen, but he’s still a lot farther ahead than when I last posted here sooooooo. (I won’t have time this weekend either, so… he’ll come sooner or later).

Annddd I figured out what my ugly yellow corner square is gonna be. I’m doing fan art for a fan fic like a real nerd. Bringing out the prismacolors again. Right now I’m still in the ‘messing around with line art’ phase. I plan to do this while I’m at tabletop gaming on Sundays.

And that’s that for WIPs. Now I need to go work on ficlets.

[aroworlds]

Aro-Spec Artist Profile: Signe

Today’s awesome aro-spec creator is Signe, better known to aro-spec Tumblr as @fluffyllamacorn!

Signe is a busy aroace writer, visual and textile artist! She writes for the Young Avengers, The Shadowhunter Chronicles/Shadowhunters, Hawkeye Comics and New X-Men: Academy fandoms in addition to developing diverse original fiction. You can find her growing collection of fanworks on AO3 under the name FluffyLlamacorn and her gorgeous art at @llamacorn-productions.

She also posts and reblogs fashion and accessories at @clothing-inspiration, and some of her cosplays can be seen throughout this post!

With us Signe talks about her passion for textile arts and how they allowed her to reclaim her femininity, the importance of non-romantic relationships in creative media, the difficulty of writing kissing scenes, and the need for works and discussions that celebrate our aromanticism. Her love of making, crafting and designing just shines through this post, so please let’s give her all our love, encouragement, gratitude, kudos and follows for taking the time to explore what it is to be aromantic and creative.

Can you share with us your story in being aro-spec?

I just sort of … never cared? I’ve never wanted to get married and have children, and I never really had crushes growing up. I partly figured that was because I was surrounded by assholes who weren’t worth crushing on, but even when I graduated and moved to better schools where I actually had friends, I still didn’t care. I’ve always had a lot of confidence, so I’ve never bothered feeling insecure about not dating. I spent a while identifying as a straight person “who doesn’t care about romance” before eventually identifying with the ace and then aroace identifiers after having known them for a while, but there was never any big moments in the journey that really stand out.

Currently, I see my aromanticism as more important to my identity than my asexuality – being aro is what I do, while being ace is what my body does – but I also don’t really see them as separate. It’s hard to put into words because it requires cementing some stuff that I don’t mind leaving fluid, but while my lack of attraction is a package deal, it’s the lack of romantic attraction that defines my lifestyle the most. I know which I would choose if I had to, but I prefer not having to. That’s the only good thing about the ace discourse: It’s made me very protective of my ace identity again after having let somewhat go of it after I came to identify as aro.

Can you share with us the story behind your creativity?

I’m the type of person who has a thousand different hobbies and therefore doesn’t have time to actually do any of them. The three I care most about are writing, drawing and textile work.

I’ve always told myself a lot of stories. Walking home from school, I would develop my stories, acting out scenes in my mind and developing huge universes. When I decided to share them with the world, it was initially as comics. I drew a lot, so I had developed the characters’ visual identities along with their personalities. While I’ve switched to planning my stories as books, drawing and writing is still pretty linked in my mind and I can’t imagine creating a character that I don’t know how to draw.

I got into textile work through cosplay, but have spread out into knitting, sewing, embroidery, cross stitch, weaving, crocheting, bobbin lace… Pretty much everything I can get my hands on, which is why I give it such a broad name. (This is part of my too many hobbies deal!) I love everything about textiles, from the look and feel of it, to how many different things can be created out of one simple material. Looking at clothes and knowing not just how it’s been sewn, but also how the fabric was made, is so cool. Creating things from scratch can make me feel like something akin to a god, recreating this corner of the universe as I see fit. A big part of my love for textile work is also reclaiming my femininity in a way that’s so different from the girly girl image I was taught to look down on as a girl. This is a way to enjoy being feminine that doesn’t force me to embrace things I don’t enjoy.

One thing I’ve realized recently is that I love the freedom to design my own work. My cosplays have moved further and further away from canon, from human versions to characters without a firm design or completely redesigning a canon design. On the other hand, I rarely feel the need to sew completely original things, and without the built in deadline of a con, I’m not very likely to get it done. I tend to rarely do the things I can just do whenever, but I’m getting better at that.

Are there any particular ways your aro-spec experience is expressed in your art?

It’s easy to spot in my stories. I have a lot of a-spec characters. The two main characters who were specifically designed to get most of my heart – Shizuka, the shy girl who didn’t know how to make friends, and Diana, the confident girl who’s never cared what anyone thinks of her – both ended up being a-spec even though I created them long before I started identifying as aroace. Shizuka is demi and I don’t know whether it’s sexually and/or romantically or if it even matters. Diana ended up being aroace because I was thinking about her future and my mind nope’d out of the possibility of her ever dating. I also made a conscious choice not to include much romance until I got interested in queer love stories and that sorta fell by the way side. Even then, I try to keep the love stories from being the only defining feature of the stories and the characters involved in them and never to devalue other types of relationship. You will never hear the term “just friends” in my work unless I’m trying to make a point about the person who uses it.

(This is not to pass a value judgement on anyone who uses that expression, but to help normalize language that doesn’t devalue platonic relationships.)

What challenges do you face as an aro-spec artist?

The recent anti-a-spec discourse has made me worried about posting about aromantic things too publicly, as aphobic comments and opinions seem way to commonly accepted these days.

Also, writing kissing scenes. What the hell. “And then their mouths squished together for a little while, which apparently made fireworks go off in their brains.” Like. What? Why does society think this is the epitome of every relationship?

How do you connect to the aro-spec and a-spec communities as an aro-spec person?

Building communities about a lack of something is always hard. Once you’ve written the first story about being aro, it can be hard to write the next one, unless you consciously try to write about a different way of being aro-spec. It’s also a hard orientation to include quickly as being single isn’t as clear an indicator as having a romantic partner of the same gender. While I follow a bunch of aro-blogs and I have a bunch of a-spec friends, I wouldn’t say I’m strongly integrated in the a-spec communities on Tumblr.

Part of it is that most content I see is validations that every sort of aro is alright. I see a lot of content aimed at people who feel bad. That’s important, definitely, but I don’t need it. I’ve always known I’m amazing, both independently of and intersecting with my aromantic identity. I’m interested in work that celebrates being aro, work that doesn’t say I’ll be happy “even though” I’m aro, but “while” I’m aro, maybe even “because” I’m aro and don’t need to waste my life on amatonormativity. At the very least, work that spends more than a sentence on reassuring me. I see a lot of content that implies the basic state of an aro-spec person is sad, and I object to that idea.

I have also recently seen a whole lot of posts about QPRs and that’s really cool! I’m happy to see they’re becoming more and more accepted, at least in some circles. I’m less happy to see them become so prominent and so expected that they start feeling like a new shape of amatonormativity. It’s not that bad right now, but I definitely got allo aces saying “at least we can still feel love” vibes from some QPR posts earlier this year. Because here’s the thing: I’m aroace. I won the lottery. I don’t need to define myself by relationships to other people.* I refuse to take another label that sounds like I don’t want friends because of people pushing QPRs to be the new norm. Again, I’m super happy QPRs seem to have become more accepted, just please don’t present them as something every aro-spec person is interested in unless we specifically opt out.

There’s also the question of what kind of aro stories should be told. I mean, as many as possible, obviously, but that’s going to take a while. But the whole deal with being aro-spec is to have less interest in romance, so too many stories that focus on the lack of it become … counterproductive? I think the Jughead comics are pretty perfect in that regard. The main character is aroace and there are several stories that’s hella important to, but mainly it’s just about him going on adventures with his friends.

(P.S. I hate Riverdale. I’ve seen two different Jughead cosplays these last two weekends, but I didn’t dare fangirl, because what if they were based on the wrong version?)

Honestly, my main way of interacting with the a-spec community is befriending people at random and later finding out they’re a-spec. It’s … almost a superpower? It’s pretty great.

* No one needs to define themselves by relationships to other people, but I imagine it’s much easier when you don’t feel the desire to.

How do you connect to your creative community as an aro-spec person?

I don’t feel very connected to creative communities, but that’s more because I’m not very good at reaching out and promoting myself unless I know I have exactly what’s being asked for. I mainly stick to one or two people I can bounce ideas off of for my different projects before I post it and hope it finds an audience. It might also be because I’m juggling so many things and don’t spend enough time on the social connections needed to connect with a community.

How can the aro-spec community best help you as a creative?

Feedback, feedback, feedback! I love it! I live on it! Telling me you like X or Y part of my work can keep me floating for days and makes me so much more motivated to keep arting! So please, check out my art and leave a comment and/or share it with your friends/followers, if you like it.

(Also, if anyone has good tips on how to reach a larger audience, let me know.)

Can you share with us something about your current project?

I just finished my newest cosplay, which is Lup from The Adventure Zone in her lich form! I had a lot of fun designing her – the podcast doesn’t have very specific descriptions and the creators encourage fans to come up with their own designs – and got a lot of positive reactions at the con last weekend. I went for a very non-human design, including hiding my face, and added a bunch of fire details to reflect her evocation magic. I would have added more, but then my sewing machine broke in the last second, and I had to finish everything by hand, so I just aimed for the basic version. I’ll be updating her for the next con and will have much more fire with me then. I have yet to finish editing the pictures, but they should be up soon.

Have you any forthcoming works we should look forward to?

My next project, one I’ve alluded to a couple of times in this profile already, in fact combines all three of my passions. I was considering cosplaying Pixie, one of the underrated students from X-Men, relegated to the background since their series ended, but I kept bumping up against the problem that her uniform was just too … generic to be fun. Besides, what’s the point of cosplaying the pink girl, and then not getting to work with pink fabric?

So I just redesigned her and gave her an individual outfit. And then I decided to redesign all of her teammates. I wanted them all to go together, but still keep an individual feeling, and I achieved that by giving them a rainbow theme when they’re together. Obviously, the next stop was figuring out a story for that to take place in, of which I’ve posted the first chapter. The idea is that they get out in their bright colors and visibly help everyday people with everyday problems to stop people from hating and fearing mutants and maybe actually making a positive change, unlike all of the superhero battles that don’t get anyone anywhere.

The project has three parts: Individual drawings for every member where I develop their outfits further, chapters of fic describing their adventures and a cosplay that I aim to finish for Genki in August, the next big con in Denmark.

[jaysurveys]

2.

Girly Do you like the color pink? It is my least favorite color.

What have you spent more money on: a purse or a pair of shoes? Shoes.

Do you ever wear heels? Very rarely. 

What are the most stylish but uncomfortable shoes you own? Heels, lmao.

Do you have any shoes you mostly only wear for photo shoots? No photoshoots. 

What’s your all-time favorite lipstick (brand and color)? I don’t wear lipstick.

Do you buy drugstore make-up or high-end make-up? Walmart!

What dog breed do you think you look the most like? Depends on what my hair is doing that day. Lmao.

Do you like light blue jeans or dark blue jeans better? I like both. 

What are your favorite type of pants to wear? Leggings or yogas,

What’s the last good love story you read? I love to read but its been a while since I’ve read :(

Who is/was the most romantic of your friends? None of them haa.

Have you ever had a magical kiss? Uh huh.

Do you like kissing or hugs better? Depends on the person, duhhh. 

Retro Do you own any records? Sure do.

Do you own a pair of bell-bottoms? Not anymore.

Have you ever tie-dyed anything? T-shirts!

What’s one oldies song you like? I can’t pick just ONE.

Do you think Disco is a cute name for a boy? Oh hell no.

Do you own a lava lamp or disco ball? I did.

Did you own a disco light when you were younger? A while ago.

Have you ever put a dime in a jukebox? You bet.

When was the last time you went to the roller rink? Middle school.

Do you wear hoop earrings ever? Never.

Do you own a kaleidoscope? When I was a kid.

Have you ever done hard drugs? No.

Tumblr What are three of your favorite Starbucks drinks? I do not go to Starbucks.

Do you have photos on the wall in your room? I have lots of pictures.

If you own/owned a Polaroid camera, which color would/do you have? I sadly never had one.

Have you ever done a craft with a record? if so, what? Noo.

What’s one of the best Tumblr-inspired craft projects you’ve seen? I’ve not seen any actually.

Do you have a Tumblr account? Obviously.

Which do you like better: Tumblr or Pinterest? I like both.

Do you have a mandala tapestry hanging in your home? No.

Do you own any succulents? I don’t, my mom does.

Fake succulents or real succulents? She has real ones.

Do you doodle on your notebook paper? I attempt to but I suck at drawing.

Do you own Sharpies? Lots of them for no reason.

What’s your favorite Sharpie color? Black.

What color are your Converse shoes? Maroon!

Have you ever made an inspiration board for your room? Yes.

Who is the best-looking male celebrity? Heath Ledger.

Boho Where would you like to travel to next? I want to go back to Italy.

List three more vacations you would like to go on. Italy, Rome, Venice. I want to do that vacation all over again.

Where are three places you go to relax? My room, shower, the beach.

Are you a musician, artist, or writer? Musician and writer. 

Do you believe in truth, freedom, and love? Okay?

What is your favorite store at the mall? I don’t go to the mall.

Would you hitchhike if people were generally trustworthy? I have my own car.

What’s the most daring thing you’ve ever done? I’m boring.

Would you ever belly dance at a faire? No.

If you became famous, would you change your name to something exotic? No.

What are five exotic names that you like? What the.

Do you own a dreamcatcher? Yes.

Do you feel closer to God in nature? No.

Fashion What are five things that were in style when you were in high school? I didn’t even pay attention and honestly my anxiety was too high to even care.

What does your favorite scarf that you’ve made look like? I’m not a fan of scarves, I feel like they are choking me.

Do you wear scarves? No. 

List the different colors of jeggings and/or skinny jeans that you have. Light blue, black, dark blue, gray, navy, maroon.

What color is your favorite pair of shorts? Black.

What color is your favorite sweater? Black.

List five people whom you think have great style. Demi. Kelly. Grace. Sarah. Cindy.

List five of some of the worst trends you’ve seen. I don’t wannnnnna.

List five items on your current wardrobe wish list. I don’t have five.

Where do you shop the most for clothes? I shop at random places, I don’t have a go to.

Do you own anything leopard print? No. 

Do you wear earmuffs? Nope.

What color are your favorite pair of boots? Black!

Music What song makes you cry? Iris.

What could be the theme song to your life? Oh, I have no idea.

What is a good break-up song? There’s lots of them.

What song makes you want to dance? WHITNEY.

What is one of your all-time favorite songs? Iris. 

What is your current favorite song? Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi.

Which show has a great theme song? Friends lmao.

Which song is so catchy it’s easy to get stuck in your head? How am I supposed to just pick one?

Which song is used in a lot of youtube videos? I don’t really watch youtube.

Which song is sad? There’s lots.

Who makes great song covers on YouTube? Boyce Avenue.

Who is one of the best songwriters? Johnny.

Who has a beautiful voice? Johnny.

Who made it big fast? Mendez.

Arts and Crafts List five DIY youtubers you love to watch. I don’t watch youuuutube.

Who makes the best craft videos? -----

Have you ever painted rocks and hid them in your town? No. 

What craft project is harder than it looks? All of them.

Have you ever got hot glue stuck to your hands? Ohhh yes.

Are you messy when it comes to painting? I suck at painting.

What color is your cutting board? Gray.

Would you rather build something or decorate something? Decorate.

Have you ever painted something on canvas? No way I could attempt it.

List a few of your favorite painters. Rockwell.

Do you love the brand Natural Life? I don’t know what that is.

Do you love the brand Lisa Frank? Oh my. That brings back a lot of memories haha.

Oil pastels or chalk pastels? Which do you prefer, and why? How the hell would I know lmao.

Glitter gel pens or regular gel pens? Glitter.

Colored pencil or regular pencil? Colored pencils.

Charcoal or colored chalk? Chalk. 

Painting or drawing? I suck at both.

Painting that shows brushstrokes or painting that looks like a photograph? Ooooh, brushstrokes for sure!

Knitting or crocheting? Neither.

Sewing on a machine or doing embroidery by hand? None.

Color or black-and-white? Black and white.

Digital photography or film photography? FILM.

[survayzfordayz]

*** Girly Do you like the color pink?: + -- It’s alright I guess. What have you spent more money on: a purse or a pair of shoes?: + -- Probably shoes?  Do you ever wear heels?:  + -- I’ve never been able to wear heels. Exercise is the only form of physical punishment I will put myself through voluntarily. Heels HURT. And to me, it’s not worth wearing them.   What are the most stylish but uncomfortable shoes you own?: + -- I mean.. I have a pair of running shoes lmao. Do you have any shoes you mostly only wear for photo shoots?:  + -- This is truly a stereotype, hah. Anyway, I don’t take selfies or pictures of myself because no filter is going to make my ugly ass look any better. What's your all-time favorite lipstick (brand and color)?:  + -- Lipstick is way too heavy for me. I can barely handle chapstick.  Do you buy drugstore make-up or high-end make-up?: + -- If I bought makeup, it’d be cruelty-free and of decent quality, so it’d be a little more expensive than some brands I guess. What dog breed do you think you look the most like?:  + -- I don’t know. I don’t think I look like a dog, but I’ve been told otherwise, so who knows. Do you like light blue jeans or dark blue jeans better?: + -- I don’t have a preference. Jeans are jeans to me. What are your favorite type of pants to wear?: + -- Umm. Baggy sweatpants. Hah. What's the last good love story you read?:  + -- Ikigai by Lanse. If you like Naruto, it’s worth a read. I’m not usually a fan of romance because it’s hard to relate. Who is/was the most romantic of your friends?: + -- I don’t know. Have you ever had a magical kiss?: + -- Are they supposed to be magical? They’ve always just been messy and wet to me... Do you like kissing or hugs better?:  + -- HUGS. But only from one person. Retro Do you own any records?:  + -- No. Do you own a pair of bell-bottoms?: + -- No. Have you ever tie-dyed anything?: + -- In school, once or twice. What's one oldies song you like?: + -- I like a lot of ‘oldies’.  Do you think Disco is a cute name for a boy?: + -- CRINGEE Do you own a lava lamp or disco ball?: + -- Nope. Did you own a disco light when you were younger?: + -- Nope. Have you ever put a dime in a jukebox?: + -- I’ve put money in, but I don’t specifically remember how much. When was the last time you went to the roller rink?: + -- Hmmm. 5th grade? I went to an all-night skate and I haaaaaaated it. I just wanted to go home. Do you wear hoop earrings ever?:  + -- Nah. Do you own a kaleidoscope?: + -- Nope. Have you ever done hard drugs?: + -- Nope. Tumblr What are three of your favorite Starbucks drinks?:  + -- I actually don’t like Starbucks drinks... Do you have photos on the wall in your room?:  + -- No. If you own/owned a Polaroid camera, which color would/do you have?:  + -- I don’t care. It’s a camera. Its importance lies in its function. Have you ever done a craft with a record? if so, what?: + -- Nope. What's one of the best Tumblr-inspired craft projects you've seen?: + -- I have no idea. Do you have a Tumblr account?:  + -- Wh-  WHAT IS THIS SORCERY Which do you like better: Tumblr or Pinterest?: + -- I can barely use either.  Do you have a mandala tapestry hanging in your home?: + -- Nope. Do you own any succulents?: + -- Nah. I’d love to own some plants, though. Fake succulents or real succulents?: + -- EITHER.  Do you doodle on your notebook paper?: + -- I doodle on everything. Do you own Sharpies?:  + -- Yes, they’re in a drawer along with my other art supplies. What's your favorite Sharpie color?: + -- None. I don’t use them often because they smell too strongly. What color are your Converse shoes?: + -- I miss having Converse. They hurt my feet though. Have you ever made an inspiration board for your room?: + -- Nope.  Who is the best-looking male celebrity?: + -- Uhhh. I don’t know? I don’t really ...think that way? I kind of have to know someone before the physical attraction sets in. Ahah.  I DON’T BELONG HERE IT’S ALL OVER WAAAAH Boho Where would you like to travel to next?:  + -- ANYWHERE LET’S GO RIGHT NOW List three more vacations you would like to go on: + -- FINLAND, Alaska, ... okay anywhere I don’t care. Hah. Where are three places you go to relax?: + -- I don’t... Why do you think elephants are a boho/hippie/free spirit icon?: + -- I don’t really stereotype myself..

Are you a musician, artist, or writer?: + -- I’m not PAID to do any of those things, but I do write and draw.  Do you believe in truth, freedom, and love?:  + -- I’m sure most people believe in this to a degree..? What is your favorite store at the mall?: + -- I don’t know. Probably anything relevant to my interests. Anime figurines? Would you hitchhike if people were generally trustworthy?:  + -- If forced. I hate relying on other people. What's the most daring thing you've ever done?: + -- I can’t think of anything right now. Moving cross country with no prior knowledge of where I was going, maybe. Would you ever belly dance at a faire?:  + -- PFFF I’d be laughed off the grounds. If you became famous, would you change your name to something exotic?: + -- N...no?  What are five exotic names that you like?: + -- I don’t know. I like plenty of names but I wouldn’t just change it to something without first knowing the history/culture behind that name. Do you own a dreamcatcher?: + -- When I was little, I did. But not now. I feel like that’s kind of treading on grounds I shouldn’t? I’m not part of that culture so I’m not sure if I should own one? Don’t get me wrong - they’re very pretty and I love looking at them, but I don’t think I need one either. Do you feel closer to God in nature?: + -- I’m definitely happier out in nature, and there might even be some spiritual connotations to that. But not specifically ‘God-related’. Fashion What are five things that were in style when you were in high school?: + -- Ohhh boy. You’re asking me to go back a LONG TIME. Honestly I think the scene trend was just starting to kick off. Tripp pants were a big thing. I can’t think of anything else. What does your favorite scarf that you've made look like?: + -- It’d be fun to make a scarf, but I’ve never done it. Do you wear scarves?:  + -- Rarely. They’re bulky and get in the way. List the different colors of jeggings and/or skinny jeans that you have: + -- I don’t own a single pair of skinny jeans because I hate them. Heh.  What color is your favorite pair of shorts?: + -- I don’t own any shorts either. Okay, I have one pair of basketball shorts I stole from my husband. Does that count? What color is your favorite sweater?:  + -- I don’t have a sweater. Ahaaaa. Do you think Lularoe is overpriced?: + -- Not really? I mean it’s kind of a name brand isn’t it? I don’t have a problem paying more for something if it means the money is going to a good place, but I don’t know anything about Lularoe. List five people whom you think have great style: + -- Honestly I don’t work that way. If it’s comfortable (and horror themed) it’s good. List five of some of the worst trends you've seen: + -- Fur. Leather. Other clothing made out of animals. List five items on your current wardrobe wish list:  + -- I would like some cruelty-free clothing.  Where do you shop the most for clothes?: + -- Depends, honestly.  Do you own anything leopard print?: + -- No. I wouldn’t wear it in real life, so it would feel strange to pretend to wear it? Do you wear earmuffs?:  + -- Nope. What color are your favorite pair of boots?: + -- Don’t have any. Music What song makes you cry?: + -- Honestly I have to be in the right mentality for that. What could be the theme song to your life?:  + -- I answered something similar to this already. What is a good break-up song?:  + -- I don’t knooooow.  What song makes you want to dance?:  + -- A LOT OKAY. What is one of your all-time favorite songs?:  + -- Buckethead - Welcome to Buckethead Land. What is your current favorite song?:  + -- Hmmm. I’m really into Gert Taberner right now. Which show has a great theme song?: + -- /shrug Which song is so catchy it's easy to get stuck in your head?: + -- Poison songs.. heh.  Which song is used in a lot of youtube videos?: + -- I don’t know. Which song is sad?:  + -- Lots. Who makes great song covers on youtube?:  + -- I don’t knoooow. Who is one of the best songwriters?:  + -- There’s a lot, I don’t know. Who has a beautiful voice?:  + -- Plenty of people? Who made it big fast?: j + -- Meeeehhh Arts and Crafts List five DIY youtubers you love to watch:  + -- No one in particular. Who makes the best craft videos?: + -- Aaaaaaaa Have you ever painted rocks and hid them in your town?:  + -- Nope. I’m starting to dislike this survey though. What craft project is harder than it looks?: + -- Most DIY projects are harder than they look.  Have you ever got hot glue stuck to your hands?: + -- Yeah. Are you messy when it comes to painting?:  + -- I’m messy, period. What color is your cutting board?: + -- I don’t have one. Would you rather build something or decorate something?:  + -- Either sounds fun. Have you ever painted something on canvas?:  + -- Yes. List a few of your favorite painters:  + -- Van Gogh, uhhh Do you love the brand Natural Life?: + -- S’alright. Do you love the brand Lisa Frank?: + -- Nostalgic, but I hold no attachment to it. Oil pastels or chalk pastels? Which do you prefer, and why?: + -- I’m not into that. Glitter gel pens or regular gel pens?: + -- Don’t care about those either. Colored pencil or regular pencil?: + -- Depends on what I’m doing? Charcoal or colored chalk?: + -- Neither. I hate the sound. Painting or drawing?: + -- Drawing. Or digital painting. Painting that shows brushstrokes or painting that looks like a photograph?: + -- Either. Knitting or crocheting?:  + -- Either. Sewing on a machine or doing embroidery by hand?:  + -- Machine. Color or black-and-white?:  + -- Either. Digital photography or film photography?: + -- Either.