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#they're poly
typhoon-lab-rat · 2 years
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I think I have, like, three sonas
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dracugoona · 2 years
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"draculaura x clawdeen" this and "frankie x clawdeen" that
now what if I said.
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they're all dating
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bunnybirds · 2 months
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In Princess Aster's world, bunnybirds live in contented isolation, keeping themselves detached from the world in order to practice magic. Nothing is ever wrong, and no one is ever angry...even as Aster's people seem to be slowly disappearing. When her father is next to vanish, Aster resolves to find and rescue the missing bunnybirds—even if it means journeying over the rim of the world itself!
My middle grade graphic novel is officially available for preorder! Bunnybirds is a story about trauma, friendship, and my experience with autistic masking. It was drawn entirely with Prismacolor colored pencils and Pandafly markers, with Photoshop applied for color enhancement and text.
Check it out maybe! :D
That last panel with Carlin (the brown bunnybird) facing the corner was directly inspired by this wonderful TMA comic by @nubs-mbee!
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beanghostprincess · 5 months
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how can somebody watch one piece and not think they're in a poly relationship
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moonstruckme · 6 months
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poly!marauders x reader where reader and james go out drinking and reader ends up out drinking james completely and reader and james go home to be looked after by sirius and remus <3
Thanks for requesting!
cw: drunkenness, mention of vomit
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words
“Fucking hell,” Sirius says as soon as he opens the door.
You turn to James, giggles breaking up your words. “F-fookin’ ‘ell,” you mimic, and James promptly falls to the ground. 
“Moony,” Sirius calls over James’ laughter, not bothering to hide his own smile. “You may want to come see this.” 
By the time Remus appears at the door, you’ve joined James on the ground, felled by your own joke, and the sight of your two sober boyfriends looking down on you both only worsens your giggle fit. Tears leak from both of your eyes. James clutches at your sleeve, wheezing. 
Remus says something to Sirius, and then the dark-haired boy is grabbing you under your arms, hauling you across the threshold of your apartment. It takes both of them to get James inside, and by the time they do, you’ve calmed and are watching with a dazed amusement from where you’re propped up against the back of the couch. 
They sit James next to you, and Sirius squats in front of you both. “You two have a fun night?” he asks. 
You bob your head, but the motion makes you feel odd, so you stop. “Really fun. You guys should’a come.” 
“Great time,” James agrees. 
Remus hums, and you can’t decide if he looks exasperated or amused. You decide to simply hope for the latter. “But if we’d had as much fun as you, there’d be no one to take care of you, would there?” James seems to consider this, lips pulling down into a frown. “How’d you end up like this?” Remus asks you. 
You’re eager to tell. James opens his mouth, but you press your palm to it before he can speak. “I drank more than him,” you tell Sirius and Remus proudly. “He said he could drink more than me, but he couldn’t.” 
“No,” James insists, taking your hand by the wrist and peeling it from his face. “That’s not true, you had five and I had six. That’s math. I won!”
You make a pfft sound, giving him a condescending look. “Yeah, but you threw up and I didn’t. So I won.” 
James opens his mouth to argue, but Remus speaks before he can. “I don’t think either of you are going to feel like you won in the morning,” he determines, turning and walking away. 
“Oi, where are you going?” Sirius looks helplessly after him. “Don’t leave me alone with them!”
“I’m getting them water,” Remus calls back. 
“He’s such a worrier,” you lament to James. 
“Total worrier,” he seconds. 
“Can’t have any fun.” 
James shakes his head. “Never.” 
“You two are even worse like this,” Sirius decides, and you swing your attention to him. The streetlight coming in through the window gleams against his dark hair, which you know from experience is fluffy and soft as puppy ears. He looks ridiculously pretty, as he always does, lips pulled up on one side in an amused almost-smile. You want to kiss it, you think sorrowfully. Then you remember that he’s your boyfriend, and you can. 
“Kiss?” you ask him, and Sirius’ almost-smile transitions smoothly into a real one. 
“Sure thing, angel.” He leans forward, cupping your face in one hand as he pecks you chastely on the lips. You whine at his temperance, bringing your fingers into that silken hair to pull him closer for more. Sirius obliges you, kissing you a few more times before drawing back, his thumb stroking at your jaw consolingly. 
“You taste like vodka,” he says fondly. 
“James tastes worse.” 
Something changes in Sirius’ expression. “You kissed him?”
You pout. “Of course. I love him.” 
Sirius’ laugh is startled and a little wary. “I know, baby, but I mean after he got sick.” 
You nod. Sirius’ mouth becomes a shriveled, puckered thing. 
“Right.” Remus pats him sympathetically on the back, passing you a cup of water. You look over to see James already has one, half drained. “So everyone will be brushing their teeth before bed, if there was ever any question.” 
“Gross,” Sirius mutters miserably. Remus rubs between his shoulder blades. 
“Did you get sick on yourself at all, love?” he asks James, scrutinizing the curls nearest his face. 
James shakes his head, and Remus looks to you for confirmation.
“He got—” You hiccup. Remus’ mouth quirks up just a tiny bit. “He got it all in the bin. I saw.” 
“Good,” he says, petting James’ hair as you both drink. “Let’s go to bed, then, yeah?”
You don’t want that. You’re a bit tired, but you’re not ready for the night to be over so soon. “I want to watch a film,” you say. 
Remus sighs, looking at you in that way he does when patience seems more an obligation than a virtue. “Sweetheart, we—”
“Wait,” James cuts him off. “Wait wait wait.”
He holds up a hand to cease all conversation. You all look at him. He opens his mouth as if to say something, and belches loudly. Sirius recoils, face all screwed up.
“If we go to bed,” James goes on, nonplussed, “can we cuddle?” 
Remus appears to consider this. You perk up. It’s an intriguing prospect. “We can,” he decides, and you and James both grin, “but you have to finish your water and brush your teeth first. Okay?”
You both agree readily, and James hauls himself up using the back of the couch before offering you a hand. 
“I’ve got her, Prongs,” Sirius tells him, wrapping an arm around your waist and standing with you up against him. You blink at the return to your full height. Everything up there seems a bit spinnier than you’d left it. 
Sirius grunts when you lean on him more heavily. “Doing alright, doll?”
“Mm, bit dizzy,” you admit. Sirius adjusts his grip around your waist so he can take more of your weight. 
“Yeah?” he asks you, sounding worried.
“Yeah,” you say, then see an opportunity. You grin. “Must be swooning. Right? Because you’re so handsome.” 
His laughter shakes you both, and he brings you into the bathroom, helping you up onto the counter, where you sit with the cool glass of the mirror at your back. “You’re a dork.” 
“It’s why you love me.” You smize at Sirius as he passes you your toothbrush, holding it somewhat steady while he applies the toothpaste. 
“Do I?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “You kissed me with vomit mouth.” 
You pout, and Remus chuckles, keeping a cautious hand on James’ back as he leans over to kiss the top of your head. “We love you.” 
You look at James. He grins at you through a mouthful of toothpaste. “How lucky are we,” he says.
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felsdumpsterfire · 1 year
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I will never have the mental capacity to play this game but do I love them? Absolutely
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cheescheesy · 1 year
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Is kissing your homies gay?
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puppetmaster13u · 3 months
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I'll be honesty. I don't really care for ghost king Danny. HOWEVER, I will make an exception for the Ennead. Because just, imagine, going to see the king/queen of the Infinite, and it's no man, no woman that you stand before. But an abomination born of desperation.
Something of sheer destruction, whose form blocks out the sun. Yet is of beauty and balance at the same time. A beast of duality, of hubris and the desperation of humanity.
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skellagirl · 3 months
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Gordon/Barney/Alyx is really really funny to me conceptually bc it's like, two hot geniuses in their 20s who look at the 40-something smartass who hangs around and go 'yeah that guy. we both want him carnally'
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domi091 · 14 days
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They
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buttdumplin · 5 days
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The sweet, lovely poly 141 boys and their Spanish-speaking latine partner.
This was meant to be a quick little thing, but boy did this get away from me lmao. This is the fluffiest shit I've ever indulged in and I love it. Big thank you to @mikichko for inspiring and helping with this!!!
CW: poly 141, gn!reader, latine reader, mexican slang, hint of d/s dynamics in Johnny's
Price, god love the man, is the one who seems to stumble the most. It's almost comical, considering the fact that Spanish and Arabic are so similar due to their histories. But there's a big difference between the Spanish he's learned to recognize and what you throw at him on the daily. He truly thinks it's because of his age, window of acquisition and all that. John does not expect to be able to speak fluently with you, but he does at least want to understand you. What he really wants, though, is to make you feel more fully at home with him, and he is forever grateful that you feel comfortable and safe enough with them to embrace all parts of your identity.
"Hola, amor mío. How was your day?" you greet him from the couch, eyeing him from tip to toe and almost whistling at seeing him in uniform. "Sigues rechulo, mi güerito, so I assume all went well?"
John swings down to kiss you, gripping the back of your neck to prolongue the kiss, trying to soak in as much of the affection as he can while also disguising the fact that he still doesn't fully recognize what came after.
"Yours was good too, I trust?"
"Yeah, but my brother called. El güey still con sus pinches mamadas and asking for my help. Aguas, in case he shows up this week."
"I... will keep an eye out, dove."
"Call me si les arma pedo and I'm not around."
He just nods sagely and squishes up against you on the couch, letting your warmth seep into his tired bones.
Later that evening, he rounds up the boys while you're in the shower and pulls out a small notebook where he's written things out phonetically. John may not have all the knowledge he needs, but he sure as hell is good at getting it.
"'Güey,' that's the brother's nickname?"
"No, that's like 'man/guy.' But it's also an insult. But not always," Johnny supplies.
"Fuck me, okay. 'Rechulo' is... I got nothing for that one."
"The 're' is for heavy emphasis, 'chulo' is 'cute/handsome/pretty.' 'Re' can go on practically any adjective," Simon steps in.
"'Aguas' and 'pedo' CANNOT be what they are, right?"
Kyle takes his hand and chuckles, "No, sweetheart. The first is like a warning, the second a fight or scene or scandal. In this context."
John's shoulders finally relax and he lets out a heavy sigh, putting the final touches on his notes of the day.
"Thank you, boys, for your patience and your kindness. And your secrecy," John huffs a little laughter and gives them his sweetest smile, the one where you can see the dimples poking out through the beard.
They all reach over to gently caress him, taking turns kissing the parts of him they can reach.
"Thank you, John, for trying so hard."
~
Beautiful, wonderful Kyle, the delight of a man that he is, is the one giving it as good as he gets. He's the one crooning in your ear, showering you with the most decadent terms of endearment, knowing full well they make your knees much weaker in Spanish. He'll use the advantage every single chance he has, don't doubt that for a second. But truly, it's the soft seclusion of those moments that he cherishes most, when you're looking up at him with big bright eyes, knowing you fully trust him to take care of you.
You're grumbling away as you wash dishes after dinner when Kyle comes up behind you, arms making the way slowly around your waist, chin dropping onto your shoulder.
"Oh, tesoro mío, look at you working away, working so hard for us."
You refuse to look at him and give a fussy pout. He knows it's your least favorite of the house duties. So much so that you're always willing to do almost anything as long as you don't have to touch wet food.
"It looks like you've done enough, cariño. Come join us in bed."
"No. None of you wanted to trade with me so se aguantan," you try to wiggle and bump his head away from yours.
"Come on, cosa hermosa, we need you with us to settle for the night," he pulls your hands from the water, drying them and turning you towards him.
You immediately bury your face into his chest. Can't look him in the eye, he'll win you over the moment you do.
"So they send in the smooth talker, huh?"
Kyle laughs, clear and bright, and he wraps you back up in his arms, gently cradling your head until you give in and look up at him.
"Or," he says, making you both rock gently, "I'm trying to sneak in a little solo time."
Your body melts against his as the words sink in, big eyes blinking softly up at him, "Besito?"
"As many as you want, mi vida. Until you grow bored of me," and you're letting out a sweet sigh as those soft lips meet yours.
His hands move to bring your body closer to his, to milk this quiet moment for as much contact as possible, to sear it all into his memory.
"You two are awfully quiet out there," Simon calls from the bedroom and it makes you break apart with a little jump.
You hear frantic rustling that has to be Johnny, "Hold on, what happened to doing the dishes!"
A chuckle escapes the two of you, sparkling eyes meeting in the low light from the stove hood. The sound of John huffing to get comfortable floats in from the bedroom.
"Just a minute more, hermosura," he mutters against your hair. "Wanna stay here a bit longer."
"Really liking all those pet names, aren't you?"
Kyle laughs again and gives you a squeeze, "Mean every single one of them."
And you happily linger, not pointing out that you've noticed an endearing pattern of Kyle wrapping up nights in the kitchen with you in his arms and a faint love song echoing down the hall for you two to sway to.
~
Beloved, darling Simon, he hides his own understanding of the language. He understands it nearly perfectly, with just the tiniest margin of error, nothing too big to bring attention to it. Overall, he's able to catch almost everything you mumble. It's not to be sneaky or anything like that, Simon would never do anything to compromise your privacy. It's more that he doesn't quite see the need to verbalize it. To him it's nothing special, no need to make a spectacle. Instead, he lets it seep into his actions, ever the acts of service lover that he is.
You're spread out on the couch, on the phone with your mother, complaining, "Como chingan los del trabajo. Me pidieron un reporte para el viernes y ahora me reclaman que todavía no se los he dado y apenas es miércoles."
There was a tension in your shoulders when you came home from work, he didn't miss that. Caught you jolting to a stop mid-stretch. And as the call goes on longer, Simon picks up on more.
"No he tenido chance de lavar ropa, ni una putisima pijama... Traigo un pinche antojo de mole, pero es un chingo de trabajo y ahorita no le puedo dedicar el tiempo..."
He quietly moves to gather the boys as you continue ranting and pace around the room. You're too caught up in your call to see them forming a massive huddle and their nodding at Simon right as the break and throw their joined hands in the air.
By the time you're off the phone, it's dark out and you notice the house is quieter than usual. You move to look for the boys (they can't have left without telling you, right?) when Simon pops out from the hall, crooked smile you love so much adorning his face, and he simply takes your hand to pull you into the bathroom. A hot bath greets you, some honeyed bath bomb already dissolving in the water and your laptop set up on a bucket besides the bath, your comfort show already pulled up and ready to play. Simon then points to your softest pajamas washed and set out on the counter for you.
"And you'll help me with my lotion too?"
He kisses your forehead, "When do I not?"
"The boys?"
"Setting up dinner. Kyle and I are making your favorite."
You whip around to face him, eyes wide and excited, "With fresh tortillas?"
With a low, affirmative hum Simon pulls you in closer and just holds you. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. But he lends you his strength, which is all he can really hope for. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms around you help release the tightness in your body. Letting out your own little hum, you give him a squeeze and he squeezes back harder, crushing you in the way he knows you find comforting. There's a soft devotion in his tenderness with you, an unshakable support in every single thing you do.
"So you gonna undress me too, or...?"
A peal of laughter escapes you as he playfully swats at your butt, "Undress yourself. I've got cooking to do."
A day without hearing your laughter is a day poorly spent to Simon.
He's almost to the door when you pull him back into you, hands tugging on his shirt to bring him down to your height. His own laughter rumbles in his chest as you cover his face in loud kisses, and he stays locked in place. He will for as long as you need him to, never mind his back. If it's gonna go out eventually, he'd rather it go out from his time spent like this.
~
Johnny, bless the boy, is desperate to hear it, to have you address him directly. You speak plenty around the house, on phone calls with friends, talking back at the tv (some shows have been put on temporary bans, or at the very least you're not supposed to watch them alone), at the lovely crooked cat yall adopted. You shower them with pet names with every breath you take. And he loves it all! Loves that you so willingly share so much of yourself with them. But Johnny boy is dying for something specific- "Love, why don't you call me papi?"
When he voices it, it's a complete surprise. Simon and Kyle both laugh so hard so suddenly that they find themselves choking on their own spit. Price himself is caught so off-guard that he fully looks up from the dinner he's prepping in the kitchen, raw chicken slipping out of his hands and plopping back into the flour bowl. You at first laugh it off lightly, thinking it was one of his cutesy jokes he makes to get a giggle out of everyone. That would have made the most sense, honestly. But when he looks away, big blue eyes shining with the softest hint of embarrassment, it sinks in.
You shift in your seat a fraction, "Johnny, I don't even call any of you that in English. You know it's not exactly the same thing, right?"
"I know but the little old lady from the corner shop calls me "papi" and so does the older man who brings the water and other people too and it's always so affectionate and so I thought..."
He spares a glance at you, hoping he hasn't completely overstepped.
"Where did this come from?"
"Ale let it slip last time we grabbed coffee and the joy on Rudy's face was so blinding that I thought maybe we should try it."
"Honey--"
"Please, just once."
"But I--"
"It doesn't have to be a title! It can be soft and casual, no expectations."
"You don't--"
"I promise I'll be good for it."
Oh.
Your gaze meets the other boys' and you all take a good look at your Johnny. At some point during his pleading he brought himself down to kneel in front of you. His broad shoulders are slumped forward in submission, his hands clenched together so tightly his fingertips are completely white. Price nods at you, the other two eagerly nodding along as well.
Leaning forward, you grab him by the jaw, gently bringing his head to rest against your thigh.
Running your fingers through his hair, you utter out a low, "Sweet little thing like you just wants to be good, don't you papi?"
Johnny's eyes glaze over slightly, a shy, dazed smile growing on his face. There's not an ounce of hesitation in him as he nuzzles his face into your thigh, just sweet elation. Pleased grumbles escape the others, making Johnny's smile grow bigger.
You make sure to add it into your regular circulation.
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vinceaddams · 3 days
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Most of the stuff I work on at my alterations job is suits, but today I did a prom dress for the daughter of an acquaintance, and everyone else at the prom is going to be soooooo jealous of the 40 cm deep pockets I added.
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terezicaptor · 4 months
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every time I see people try to say tubbo is fitpacs child and they're his parents I just think about how much tubbo flirts with them. Like I don't know what you guys do with YOUR families but
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borrachones · 8 months
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My favourite poly ship, zukki <3 playing with light and colours is so fun, especially since I'm back in school and mostly painting for my art class. Honestly there's only so many still lifes I can draw before going insane. This drawing in particular is inspired by the orange/yellow still life I'm trying to paint (the yellow isn't yellow enough for me) Anyways they're queer and in love. That's all.
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vita-divata · 1 year
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They are ready to take down some bad guys
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maarigolds · 1 year
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Lucy, Lockwood and George, after everything.
(show edition. I'm not going by book canon for this one, so don't worry about spoilers)
At 21 or 22, Lockwood is the first of them that starts to lose his talent.
Which makes sense, since he's the oldest. At the beginning he refuses to even acknowledge it, but Lucy and George figure out what's happening soon enough. For a while he's just ashamed and angry and sad all the time. Then it gets better: Lucy and George get him trough it. He also calls Kipps, and they talk for hours, both coming out of it feeling almost at peace (Kipps has gone back to school and is talking about wanting to become a teacher. Which Lockwood feels like should surprise him, but actually doesn't). 
Lucy is next. It breaks her heart a little (because of skull and all other type 3s) and it scares her a lot. But then she realizes how soothingly quiet the world can be at times, and lets herself think that maybe she will be alright. 
George is last. And the thing is, even though it saddens him to lose the one thing that connected him to ghosts, mainly he's relieved. He's been waiting for the other shoe to drop for a while, and now that it has, he's ready for whatever may come next.
The jobs get more and more rare as they hear, see and feel less and less. Lockwood knows he could hire new kids to replace them, but in truth he doesn't really want to. Perhaps Lockwood & Co. can be laid to rest at last: after all, they've already achieved more than he ever dreamt. So the next time a client calls, he informs her they've shut down and gives her the name of an up-and-coming independent agency he's heard great things about. He only feels mildly guilty about it. 
Even if they're technically not his employees anymore, George and Lucy stay. They don’t talk about it, but the idea of moving out of Portland row and living lives that aren't intrinsically intertwined feels wrong to all three of them: they're a family, after all, and nothing has to change about that.
Still, they need to make money somehow. So they muse about going far away from London, opening a bakery, living in a small house by the sea. But in the end they stay, both in the city and line of work they're used to. Because they do belong there, it's undeniable. George, of course, goes into ghost research and becomes a leading voice in the field, discovering new ways to help agents all over the country. No one is surprised, but everyone is proud. Lucy one day shows up at Barnes' office to ask him about becoming an inspector. It's the last thing either would have expected, but when he asks her why, she says it feels like the best place to be to help kids like her. To stop people like Jacobs. So he gives her a job. She's determined to change things from the inside. Barnes thinks that if someone could, it's her. And Lockwood... well, it takes a while for him to figure it out. But one evening Lucy comes home talking about a kid left deeply traumatized by a job gone wrong, and suddenly he knows. The next day he calls the bank to open up a pro bono clinic for agents and ex agents in need of psychological treatment. After less than a week they already have their first client. 
Slowly but steadily, it becomes their new normal. 
Lockwood sets up a study in the room on the stairs and works mainly from there. George, on the other hand, works at a lab in the City: he is the first to leave in the morning, but he always comes home soon enough to cook dinner. Lucy keeps slightly more irregular hours, and sometimes her job keeps her away for longer than she'd like. But then again she occasionally gets to come home to the adorable view of the boys fast asleep in front of the tv, so that's good.
One day Flo brings them a stray cat she found while working: they name him Donut and spoil him way too much.
Lucy starts gardening. George grows a magnificent beard (Lockwood is not jealous of it). The fridge breaks down and they have to buy a new one. Airf's son replaces him at the shop. They put up a hammock in the backyard, and spend their vacations piled into it. Mrs Burke from across the street knits them all hats for Christmas. Lockwood adds new framed articles on the walls and new knick-knacks on the bookshelves. 
He's not sure when, but one day 35 Portland Row stops being the home his parents left behind and becomes his home. Their home: his, and Lucy's, and George's (and Donut's. And Kipps' when he comes over for lunch on Sundays. And Flo's when she swings by using her own keys. And Barnes' when he stays for tea after long work days).
So they keep going as they have, day after day, year after year, slowly growing older. Wounds heal and scars fade. The sun shines through the kitchen windows on summer mornings. The smell of persian food fills the air every evening. Old rapiers get dusty in the umbrella stand. There aren't any ghosts between their walls, both real and metaphorical.
Everything is alright.
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