#'no beta. we die like mari'

[boo-bookeys]

Me, submitting an assignment worth 30% of my final grade- No beta. We die like men.

[neverendingspiral333]

Finally posted my first mariejordan fic!!!

[lost-technology]

Travellers on the Midnight Train

A fanfiction, in snippets.

Summary: Views through the eyes of SEEDS Mothership 5’s crew. Combo-platter of ‘98 and Trigun Maximum.

1. 2.  3.  4.  5.  6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

7. Joey

Joeseph was not an old man, but he was not a young man, either.  Compared to him, his crew – all of them – were young.  Most entrants to Project SEEDS were young, given the need and desire to see everyone alive by the time they’d found a new world.  Unlike the Settler Class, they were in and out of the freezer-units, meaning that they would age, biologically, in their waking-time.  Crews needed to be young in the hopes that they did not become old.  While “fraternization” was against the strictest of rules, none of the crews observed it.  This being a known factor before they’d even embarked, all crew members of all the main ships had undergone reversable sterilization as well as rigorous health screenings.  It was an open secret that tight-knit crews would likely see some of their members have flings.  It didn’t escape his notice that Steve liked to flirt with Mary, even if his pick-up lines could use a little work.  It also hadn’t escaped his notice that Mary and Rowan seemed to be close, and had been so from training.  It seemed like the only people on board who were unattached were himself and Rem.  Joseph had been married once, briefly.  It was a regrettable affair as it had happened when he was far too young.  He and his ex-wife had parted fairly amicably, in the end.  They’d been caught up in the school-sweethearts thing, fast and headlong when they were seventeen and it all fell apart by the time they were twenty-one, different interests, different humor, even different politics emerging as time went on.    He'd had a few conversations with Rem that trended toward the personal.  She seemed to be the most in need of the “coffee and a chat” that he’d offered everyone.  Her relationship-life had gone almost the opposite way from his.  She’d fallen in love young, but not quite as young as he had been.  She and her ex-lover had been on the same page about almost everything.  (They’d disagreed upon whether black licorice was a tasty candy or torture for the tongue and about the status of pineapple on pizza, but nothing worth breaking ties over).  Unlike him and Catherine, Rem and Alex had dated for a very long time before taking things to a serious level and getting engaged.  And then he died.  His death, was, in fact, the very reason she had signed onto SEEDS.  The plans she’d had for her life – with him - had been entirely upended.  She had no close family (although Dr. William Conrad, whom she’d worked with on her prior tour, was a distant cousin).  Rem had a lifelong admiration for explorers and a deep interest in Space.  She had worked very hard to obtain the scholarships she’d needed to get in, lacking any inherited wealth.  Her passion for the multitudinous subject-matter that she needed to know for the ship-navigation and in Plant-research was impressive.  She did side-studies in botany and genetics and had been excited upon awakening to see the flowers she had bred and entrusted to other crews doing well in the “Rec Room” (as they called the ship’s portable biosphere).  She was trying to create strains of Earth-flora that could survive extreme conditions.  “Captain Joey” had age as well as rank-issues to consider, but he would be lying to himself if he tried to convince himself that he was not becoming smitten with her. 

[t1oui]

hey it's me i'm brainrotting about the we set the dark on fire duology and what do i do when i'm brainrotting? i plot a marauders au here we go

cast:

daniela: lily evans

carmen: mary macdonald

sota: regulus black

mateo: mulciber

i WOULD do dorlily but i think lily and dorcas both make more sense as primeras, not segundas

[w2nv]

If I ever make a wtnv fix I’m tagging it no beta we die like Carlos’ relevance to the plot even if I beta read it out of pure pettiness

[08melancholie]

Hi! First of all: love your writings! Somehow you manage to give me exactly what I want. I have read the lessen your stress one, amazing. Thank you. Lots of loves from the other side of the screen.

Now, I would like to request a one shot Micah/F!Reader (or GN reader if you want) where a really sweet and kind Reader likes Micah and actually wants to sleep with him but is a virgin and kind of shy, in contrast with the rough, brute Micah we all know, who will obviously want to sleep with reader too (either bc he likes them back or simply bc he’s desperate and wants sex, you decide, just please don’t miss characterize him too much, I like my Micah as the asshole he is :’) <3

Thank you very much and I really appreciate your work! <3 have a good day!

thank you sm for the compliments <33 and dw because i like to also keep my men just as scummy at times🙏

Some aspects might be similar to 'Untouched' here (still attached to that fic like a leech chat..) but i'll make sure it still sounds new!

Lose Some; Gain Some. — Micah Bell/Reader

tags: Smut, Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Micah Bell Is His Own Warning, Virginity, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sex, Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex, but just a bit at the end, its micah he doesnt know how to be gentle sorry guys, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like micah bell

summary: You would rather take over doing everyone's chores in camp forever, than ask the question thats currently been plaguing your mind; one of your lowest lows, probably. You were told that a woman's virginity is a precious thing, how you had to lose it to the right person. This, however, you found to be total bullshit. And you wanted nothing more than the man who was Micah Bell to do it for you.

a/n: first ask yippiee!! i am so busy with exams oh lord i barely made time for this😭 i hope its to your liking!!! second ao3 post today im on a roll actually🙏🙏

words: 3,201 | AO3 LINK

Still being a virgin at this age is almost laughable. Well, it is; the girls haven't stopped teasing you since you told them during a game Mary-Beth told everyone about. You had to answer the question asked by Karen—about your sex life—or drink. You answered that you were still a virgin, and a few of them laughed; haven't stopped making jabs at you since. It's almost irritating.

And, your irritation made you slip up—by saying you'd lose your virginity tonight.

"What!? Tonight? With who?" Karen immediately snapped her head in your direction and away from the fresh laundry she and you were folding. There go the consequences of your actions. Who the hell do you even say?

You put down your own laundry back into your lap. "Well," You'll either have to lie your ass off, or go for the truth; but you sure as hell were not going for the latter. "guy I met in the saloon while we were still in Valentine, we've been writing." Not too bad.

Karen chuckled, thankfully buying into your lie. "Well, ain't I happy for you! It's about damn time, anyway." She goes back to the chore, like yourself, and continues your previous conversation.

Let's think logically—or, as logically as you could—about this; you don't exactly trust finding a random man in a bar to do this with, so who is going to eagerly take your virginity? Who would you ask that wouldn't tell anyone in camp about it, keep it between you two for the exchange of taking it from you? Who would you want to take your virginity?

You thought about how sweet Arthur would be; how he'd probably understand and treat you right, talk you through everything while praising you for following his instructions so well. Or maybe Charles; A gentle giant that would worship you as should be, show you how everything is done while talking in that deep tone you love to hear.

And then your mind went completely south of the previous two. You thought about how greedy he'd be, touching and moving his hands all over your body, wanting to feel every crevice under his rough fingertips. How he'd see taking your virginity as a precious thing, how you were told growing up, something you wanted him to have—and also as the biggest ego boost ever. He'd probably be a complete tease, too, nor would he talk you through the process like the other two. He'd probably just go for it, no instructions as you scrambled for what you had to do while he—

Jesus Christ, that's the last person you should be even 'just considering'.

Micah Bell is NOT an option here; forget it. Even if the heat between your legs didn't agree with these terms, you would not give your first time to that bastard. He was just an egotistical, rude, mouthy degenerate. Why the hell was the thought of how poorly he'd treat the situation getting you so worked up? You're practically soaking your garments over this bastard; and that's a problem.

Oh, but it's so tempting; this, unfortunately, wasn't the first time you've caught yourself thinking of him, imagining him in bed—which is reasonably worse than the former. Could you refuse yourself this small want? When you think about it, he might be one of the only people here who'd jump to get intimate without question, seeing how he catcalls and flirts with most of camp; including yourself a few times. God, were you really going to do this? How would you even bring it up?

This was something you needed to think of on the way, because it was nearing nighttime and you'd probably lose him to the darkness in the outskirts of camp, where he's usually found. As soon as you finished folding the laundry, you excused yourself from Karen and went to find Micah, thinking over what you would say to him. You had a whole dialogue figured out by the time you spotted him smoking by Baylock, probably having gotten done tending to the horse after the job he went on today. You really had to just brace yourself and follow your little plan, while hoping it'll turn out how you envisioned it to.

He noticed you approaching while you were a few steps away, the nervousness in your body language not hard to make out; hands clasped together, eyes focusing everywhere but on his own, your steps almost reluctant. He raised an eyebrow at you while taking a drag from the cigarette. "Look who it is; worried I'mma bite 'ya?"

You were barely able to give a reaction to his words, your nerves making you go almost silent. "Hah, no.. no, I'm..." Come on! We practiced this six times already! As soon as your eyes darted to his own greyish-blues, you lost your goddamn ability to speak. For the love of God; get your shit together. "Listen; this is very hard for me to even say out loud." Well, it's a good start.

Micah's eyebrows furrow slightly, your sudden shyness compared to the usual quips you could muster up back to his flirting or teasing very abnormal. But, he doesn't comment on it, wanting to hear you out before he teased you further. "Go on then, girl." He speaks, tossing his cigarette elsewhere.

The embarrassment this will leave you in will be history. "Okay.. so, uh.. I need your help with something—let's say." Your words just make him more confused; speaking to him in these absurd riddles. "Would you just.. hear me out?"

The blonde man nods after a moment, folding his arms over his chest while leaning back on the tree. Okay, you can get the words out, trust yourself.

"Would you.. and it's just a one-time thing, may I add." You start, a blush creeping up your neck and to your cheeks as you tried to think of what you were saying; you were about to ask Micah to get intimate with you. Yeah, you don't think this low can be matched. Nonetheless, no giving up now. "Would you take.. take my uh.. virginity?" As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to hold back from fleeing the scene. "Listen—I lied to the girls and I just.. fuck, it's you."

Micah's had a small smirk on his face, mostly directed towards your nervous and shy state, until the sentence finally left your mouth. His smile dropped and he assumed he heard you wrong. "What'd you say.? Would I take.. your virginity?" He repeats back to you, definitely sure he's heard you wrong. But as you slowly nod your head, unable to open your mouth any longer, his eyes slowly widen a little more, rubbing his chin in thought. "Well, goddamn. You're one bold 'lil thing, ain'tcha?" Here comes the teasing you envisioned.

You roll your eyes to the comment. "I don't need your comments, Micah. You in or not? I'll gladly find someone else." You threaten, biting your cheek. Don't make me find someone else.

He perks up at your empty threat. "Hey—no, don't threaten me now, doll," He leans off the tree and gets right in your personal space, hands on his gun belt. "you know I love to help a lady in need out." He purrs at you, looking down almost menacingly.

"Good," You murmur, the closer he got the more nervous it made you. "then.. it's settled." It's only when he stands right before you, hands running up from your outer thighs to your sides, that you start processing what you've gotten yourself into.

His hands glide over your waist, feeling you up through your shirt. "Surprised yer still untouched, many would love a little body like this in their hands." His words and the small squeeze to your sides send butterflies straight to your stomach; you could practically lose it right then and there. "But it's only little ole me that gets it, huh?" His claim is followed by a darkish chuckle, ringing in your ears. He stops his hands over your ribs and the underside of your chest, looking down shamelessly at the little cleavage your shirt provides. "Well then; my tent?"

It took him barely a few seconds to get you through the flaps of his tent, tying the canvas shut and making sure you've got the bit of privacy camp life can offer. It takes him even less time to shove you down to his cot, seating yourself on the mattress and looking up at him settling atop you, knees around your outer thighs. "Don't you look pretty under me like this." His hands cup around the underside of your jawline, thumbs running up and down the outline of your face. "So, ever kissed a feller?"

You raise an eyebrow at the question. "Not that much of a prude." Your quick response gets a gruff chuckle out of him for a brief moment, before he'd leaned down and captured your lips with his, setting a nice and quick pace for the kiss. You return it with just as much swiftness, hand reaching for his belt buckle and gripping it, earning an appreciative sound out of Micah. "Good girl," His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, trying to enter your mouth rather quickly; but you don't complain, quickly complying. He gets himself an immediate taste of you, tongue swirling around in your mouth as if mapping out the contour of the body part. He goes back to exploring the rest of your body with his hands, moving them all around your sides and waist before stopping at the hem of your shirt and breaking away from your mouth briefly. "Let me see what I'm workin' with, doll." You breathe in the air that the kiss knocked out of you for a moment before wordlessly nodding, lifting your arms up for him to slide the shirt off, peeling it away from your torso and arms as you're sat almost bare from the stomach up now, only covered by your bra. Your shirt is tossed elsewhere, and he goes back to appreciating the view in front of him—or well, under him.

"Oh, you're perfect, little lady." He doesn't hesitate to reach his hands to your chest almost immediately, cupping you through the bra while running his thumbs on the upper flesh that was exposed. His fingers are as calloused as you envisioned, as if moulding your soft flesh with every swipe of his digits on your skin. He knows his way around your body, probably from the experience you lack. One hand stops groping you and moves to your back again, fiddling with your bra before unclasping it. Why is it that your shyness is only hitting you now? As soon as he starts moving your bra straps down to reveal your bare chest to him, you finally process that he's about to see you nude, and you definitely show some signs of reluctance. He notices your sudden demeanour change and looks from your chest to your eyes. "Come on, I don't judge, princess. Bet you're realll purty under here." His finger slips between your cleavage and hooks to the middle of your bra that connects the two pieces as he tugs at the material, slowly moving it away from your bare chest. It slips off your shoulders and arms, and you feel like a prey being inspected by it's hunter under that dark gaze Micah's blues hold. "Like I said.. damn beautiful."

Your shyness and nerves don't pass him by, and he doesn't want you to feel uneasy while he gets what he wants, so he decides to try and ease you up with another kiss, leaning up and snaking one hand to the back of your head to pull you in while the other went to your jean button, undoing it before moving to the zipper. The kiss definitely helped calm you a bit, your hands on his shoulders now as you clung to his shirt, kissing back with a small hum in your throat. He works your zipper down and hooks his fingers into your waistband, breaking the kiss again. "Lift your hips real quick," When you comply, he pulls your jeans down and you help him by kicking them off when they reach your ankles. His hand finds itself right between your legs, swiping at your still-clothed and warm entrance to find you just as aroused as he was. "damn, lookat'chu. Surprised a lady sweet as you'd be this wet over fuckin' a bastard like me." You almost moan at his comment, your garments definitely as damp as you felt them between your legs, drawing your shyness and embarrassment to a whole new level.

He leans away from you to strip his jeans off, first unclasping his gun belt and placing it over to where your shirt was, slowly moving into unzipping and undoing any other restraint that stopped him from getting naked. He looks to you—just watching him strip his pants off—and chuckles briefly. "Well? Get them panties off, sweetheart. Ain't need experience for that." You snap your eyes away from the small peek of a happy trail on his stomach that you, shamelessly at that, were staring at and stand up momentarily to slip your undergarments off, tossing them just shy of the other articles of clothing. "Mm, good, good.." He hums, letting his jeans drop before wasting no time with his drawls, slipping them off and freeing the leaky, visibly throbbing erection that was hidden in it. Your eyes scan over the length; it doesn't look too big, you can probably take it...

But where many assume Micah lacks in length—he makes up for in thickness.

He positions you to turn and bend over the cot slightly, hands on the mattress and back slightly arched. He's moving you around like a doll, positioning you to his liking. He lets out a small whistle when he's got you exactly how he wants you. "Ain't often I get a chance to do this type of thing... Almost feels like an early birthday gift." He chuckles while running one hand down your spine and moving to your hip, stroking himself with the other. He swipes two fingers over your entrance—earning himself a small moan—and uses it, mixed with some of his precum, to moisten his member up. "Now, might hurt a bit, ain't gonna lie to 'ya." You knew that much, mostly why you were adamant to the idea of sex for a while, but it can't be that bad, can it? "But we'll try to keep calm, eh girl?" He punctuates his last sentence with a squeeze to your hip before his tip slides between your warm folds, slickening himself up some more while he rubs his cock just shy of your entrance—unable to help himself from teasing you some. You let out a plethora of meek moans and huffs, your cunt itching for him to just ease it in. After a moment, he stops his tip at your entrance, ready to slide in. "I'mma go slow, try to make it.. durable for 'ya."

There's definitely a small stretch mixed into the overwhelming feeling of your walls being filled by Micah's thick shaft, clenching around him as you sigh and gasp to every inch filling you. "Shh, you're alright.. look," He reaches one hand over around you, two fingers pressing to your clit and making slow circles on it. Your sighs turn into small moans again. "Yeah.. good, focus on ma' hand, baby." He hums, slowly starting to bottom out into your pussy. His hips meet your rear as he continued to rub over your nub, giving you a brief moment to adjust before he pulls out to the tip—then slides right back in. The pain isn't as bad as people made it out to be, but some have a higher pain tolerance either way. You do your best to focus on the sensation Micah's rough fingers are playing on your clit, more than the way his cock slams into you and creates an almost echo-ey sound of skin-on-skin slapping, filling the tent with the suggestive melody.

The repetitive motion of his dick brushing your gummy walls has you on cloud-nine; you're gasping and moaning, letting his name slip past your lips in a pitched tone, grasping fistfuls of the sheets underneath you as his pace slowly gets faster per thrust. "Don't think it's smart I cum inside," He chuckles, punctuating himself with another slam of his hips into your ass, followed by your sweet little whine, almost like a protest. "you want me to?" He asks curiously due to your whine, and his grin gets so much wider when you nod your head, and his pace turns relentless. He starts fucking into you how he likes, trying to get himself to cum while rubbing you faster to get you there with him. "Can't wait to feel you clench this pretty cunt around me," He purrs with a small kiss to the nape of your neck before his focus is back on fucking his throbbing cock into you, getting himself closer by the moment.

You feel your own orgasm start to approach, your legs slightly jittery from the upcoming feeling. Micah takes quick note of this change and rubs your clit faster, drawing more whiny moans out of you that get muffled by the action of burying your head into the mattress; last thing you need is someone hearing you moaning Micah's name. Your whines are breathless and abrupt, getting cut off by each of Micah's quick thrusts into your cunt, all until you finally feel yourself tip over the edge and you cum, the clench of your pussy around Micah enough to get him there just a moment after you. He buries his cock deep into you, holding you up from collapsing into the bed by the hips as his chest makes contact with your back, the side of his head on the very top of your torso as he gasps breathlessly. "Ah.. there we go.." You can feel him empty himself inside you, your shaky legs barely supporting you with Micah doing most of the work.

He gives himself a moment before pulling out and placing you down to lay on the cot. "Let me tell you somethin', darlin';" He gets his underwear and jeans off the floor, slipping into both before leaning over you to whisper into your ear. "This definitely ain't 'gon be a one-time thing—not with how addicting that cunt is, or with how 'ya love to scream my name." He purrs lowly while clasping his gun belt back up, running a hand down your spine and stopping at your ass with a firm squeeze before moving you to lay more comfortably on his bed. "Well, get comfortable, think I'm up for a smoke.." He lazily tosses a random blanket in his tent over you—it's the thought that counts, apparently—before leaving you in his tent to rest up.

And you agree; he's addicting, and you will be fucking again.

Kudos on AO3 very appreciated!! we love the micah smut where hes still an ass to us <3

[abductedhiko]

Are we?

This is self indulgent. I giggled so much writing this wolfstar oneshot.

Not beta read, we die like everyone in this fandom

Tags: @invasiveroadkill @im-a-mess-of-a-person @butyoureastarr @printershorts

Enjoy!

The music that boomed in the Gryffindor common room bounced off the walls. Remus could feel the vibrations in his feet.

Gryffindor had won against Ravenclaw in Quidditch on a Friday. So that obviously meant that there was to be a party hosted in the Gryffindor common room. James, being the star chaser, lapped up the attention. All night he had been receiving high fives and congratulations with a drink in his hand, Peter lingering beside him.

Remus had never disliked parties, there was always good booze that the Prewetts would pinch from The Hog’s Head and plenty of dope to go around, but he had never liked them either.

Usually, Sirius and James were the life of the party. But while they thrived in it, Remus never craved that kind of attention. The feeling of too many eyes on him made his skin feel all tight and hot, and his hands got clammy too.

This was different though, he had Sirius at his side to keep him company. Sirius wore his signature muggle-leather jacket. His eyes were lined with eyeliner that made him look similar to a cat, and his lids sparkled with glitter that Mary had practically begged him to add. “It would totally complete the look! Come on, Sirius! You’d look hot!” She had said.

And she was right. He did look hot.

Remus took advantage of the way Sirius happily and drunkenly chatted with Marlene, nursing a party cup full of fire whisky. He let out a laugh at something she said, tipping his head back and exposing the pale skin of his neck.

Remus gulped down some of his own fire whiskey.

“Hello?” Marlene said smugly, despite her voice slurring a little. Her red lips were pulled into a smirk. Her eyelids glittered with purple eyeshadow. “Remus? Is there something on Sirius’ neck you’d like to share?”

His eyes immediately shot up to hers. “I- Uh-“

“Oh no, do tell,” Sirius spoke up. He too had a slight slur to his voice. “Is there something on my neck, Moony?”

Sirius winked at Remus coyly.

He knew. He knew and he was toying with him about it! The asshole.

Remus downed his drink, before getting close to his face. Sirius just grinned lazily at him.

“You’re a prick.”

And Remus brought his lips to his, Sirius quick to kiss him back. Marlene let out a squeal of surprise.

“Oh wow- you’re totally bent for eachother!” She laughed drunkenly as they pulled apart. Remus smiled dopily, grabbing at Sirius’ waist. “Kiss again! Again!”

And when they did, Marlene cheered and laughed.

Kissing Sirius felt like fireworks. It felt like sparklers and rollercoasters and thrill. Remus could taste the whiskey on his tongue, and it made him pull him closer by the waist deepen the kiss.

“If you guys end up shagging I’m gonna never let you live it down!” Marlene teased.

Sirius pulled away, turning his head to talk to Marlene. “If, my dear, if. Remus has an unlucky streak, I’m afraid.” He slurred, giggling. Marlene laughed at that.

“Yes, yes, if.” Remus gestured away. “Now, Marlene, if you would mind? I’d like to make out with this dickhead some more.”

“Yeah, alright. You guys kissing makes me feel left out anyway, I’m gonna go find Dorcas. Cheers!” And she disappeared into the crowd.

#

James was halfway through his 4th cup of fire whiskey, and he had a pleasant buzz in his skin.

His eyes scoured across the sea of bodies, searching for Sirius and Remus. He figured he should probably check up on them.

When his eyes picked them out, his jaw just about dropped.

Remus had Sirius pushed against the wall, Sirius’ hands in his messy brown hair.

Drunk and making out at a party? James thought evilly. Oh he knew exactly what to do.

And he made his way to the DJ station, pushing through the crowd.

#

“This next song goes out to my mates who look like are having an amazing time,” He said, using his wand as a microphone. He snuck a sneaky look at Sirius and Remus in the corner, one that Sirius caught. He grinned. “So what? You together or what?”

The room quieted ever so slightly as Remus and Sirius jumped from each other, having been caught. People always seemed to just listen to James no matter where he went, that was how it has always been.

“Are we?” Sirius asked Remus under his breath.

Remus nodded slightly, breathing heavily.

“HELL YEAH WE ARE!!!”

“Cheers then mates!” James shouted back, lifting up his cup as the crowd cheered in response.

He put on Hot Love by T.Rex.

[whomst-the-hell]

it mustve been so great to write for the star wars legends stuff, bc im reading some of the wikis and every new character sounds like someones super-special-oc-do-not-steal i mean i havent read mara jades books but they just SCREAM luke skywalker/original female character, background leia organa/han solo, original child characters, post-canon, enemies to lovers, slow burn, no beta we die like alderaan, 138/? with a comment section full of mary sue accusations like with the utmost affection and respect, this reads like published fanfic that didnt even get the serial codes scraped off, which is sort of my dream job, and i hope everyone involved had a great time

[honeybunchesobees]

My Horizon 3 Wishlist, In no Particular Order.

Beta Sections, and what I want from them.

it's assumed that we're going to be playing as beta at some point in horizon 3. maybe as a tutorial, but definitely as a 'mary jane sections in a spider man game' type thing. here's what I want from it: i want to fucking play watch dogs.

and by this i mean, i want to be a hacker extrordinare. obviously beta will need to have some combat options, but give her greater control over the environment! give her long-range overrides, let her have greater control over the actions of a machine! (maybe to the point of directly controlling them, though her physical body still needs to be protected) i want hologram lures! remote detonating traps, a spider drone, i dont care as long as it feels like tech wiz beta and not Worse Aloy. unlike the mary jane sections, i don't want people to completely dread playing them.

generally just more beta, because she's my favorite!!!

The tone of the game: depress me a little!

the reality is at the time of horizon 3, the world is imminently about to end, and it is bigger, smarter, and scarier than anything before. the tone should be reflected in this.

you ever listened to 'how far we've come' by matchbox 20? that's what i want. i want a tone of 'we're going to try our hardest and not give up, but holy shit the world might end, and we have to reckon with that.'

give me hangouts with the group where it's they realize that if the world does end, they're going to have some fucking fun before hand! give me aloy CRYING. give me aloy going back to nora lands and punching a matriarch! (i kid somewhat) give me PERSONAL GROWTH!!! this one is a lot more nebulous because it's a thin line to straddle between 'you guys are so locked im not sure if you understand the gravity' and 'beta before GEMINI doomerism.'

but i do think they can do it.

No more fucking machine strike!

I'm sick of gwent. I'm sick of gwent. I don't want to play gwent. Please. Please. Please. Please.

If you kill my gingers, I blow up a building.

someone is gonna die and i swear on my fucking yeezys if you kill aloy (or beta but i doubt that more) i will blow up a building oh my god. oh my god. varl was such a shit choice already.

if anyone's going to die, truly i think it will be sylens. in a meta sense, because of lance reddick's unfortunate passing (i wonder if they'll give keith davids the job like they did for commander zavala, hm) but also because it feels like the kind of upswing for sylens character, him gradually becoming less of a bastard.

plus, it gives the chance for aloy to come back to the base and listen to a last message sylens left that is incredibly rude and condescending, then she gives a sad little chuckle and goes 'bastard'

Fuckin...fix erend.

hahaha he is a stupid alcoholic who does not know how to read!! hahah!!

SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. WHERE IS ZERO DAWN EREND. BRING HIM BACK. I DONT WANT FORBIDDEN WEST EREND YOU HAVE FUCKED HIM. UNFUCK HIM THIS INSTANT

Seyka....

I don't like her sorry. i mean its nothing against her but having aloy's (option) romance be relegated to an afterthought dlc feels weirdddd...sorryrrryryr. i cant even play the dlc since ive still got a ps4 at the moment

let her in the base!!!! let her in the base!! i will mourn aro aloy (she will live on in my fics) and make her actually relevant beyond a character they just Magiked Up to be aloy's romance (instead of like talanah, maybe. or kotallo, or nil. or beta. or erend. or-)

sorry seyka fans i hope i can be seyka fans soon.

Dog machine? Dog machine? Wolf Machine? Robopup??

permanennt companion dog machine??? please. wolf machines with an alpha that if you override you gain control over the entire pack (i know that is not how wolves work but that is how hephaestus would make them work) it would be so awesome. it would be so cool.

NO SPIDER MACHINE.

please im such a deep arachnaphobe i would start screaming if a spider machine dropped onto me from the ceiling sorry. sorry. sorry.

I think that's it until i remember something new the second i hit post.

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Brainstorm Session? Please? ...HALP!

One of the New Scenes in Stolen Child is right after Thomas has moved into his shiny new room, but is still way too shell shocked to enjoy how shiny it is, let alone unpack. Branson's PoV, he winds up checking in on the new brother-in-law for a little heart-to-heart. Originally this was tacked on at the end of another scene, but that other scene changed and honestly it always felt like it should be longer, so! New scene!

The problem is how to start it. Right now, the intro is terrible. Awful. I seriously kinda want to print it out and burn it. My beta reader hates it. It must die. It's this super contrived thing where they're having tea and tea is spilled on Branson's shirt and oh no, must go change! And he bumps into Andy upstairs and Andy asks if Thomas is really the heir and Tom gets the idea in his head that a conversation really would be a good idea right now. And so he goes and there is talking.

Now, once we get upstairs, everything is fine. The talking to Andy actually works, despite the station difference. If I remember correctly, Branson starts it (I have not looked at it today), so there's no impertinence or unprofessional behavior going on. The problem is getting Branson upstairs. I considered having him lie down with a headache, but honestly, I feel like I've given everyone in the story a headache by now, and it makes less likely for him to need to lay down than half a dozen people who haven't done it. Having to change clothes makes sense, but it's nowhere near dinner and I can't think of another reason. If I'm reading the weather report right, it would not have been raining (I think I actually screwed that up earlier in the story, dang it. Why are these things such a pain to read? Why am I insane enough to need to care?), so a mishap with a mud puddle is out. Sybbie is old enough that playing with her probably wouldn't lead to messes. He'd wear something over his clothes when working in the garage...and honestly, given the last scene we saw him in he was talking to Mary outside, that doesn't really make sense anyway.

If anyone has any suggestion or pain killers or recipes for nice, soothing snakies when life is making you want to hit your head against things, it would be greatly appreciated. I have been cold, stressed, and tired lately so my brain is not braining well here.

[iliketopgun]

"It started with a coffee."

A/N: No beta, we die like Buck... Legit don't know where this came from but I don't exactly hate it... also I'm so fucking normal about them and I guess discord roleplaying doesn't hurt. Also pumped this out in like 20 minutes on pure fucking melatonin

Warnings: OC use, Bobby being an overprotective dad, Buck being Buck, Ally being unaware of something for once in her life, I think I used the word fuck at least fifteen times

Summary: In which a cup of coffee literally changes lives

Tag list: @lixzey

Divider from @xoxochb

It started with a coffee. Bobby just wanted his coffee, he wanted to drink his coffee and then he was going to be captain for the day as usual until Evan Buckley in typical Buck fashion burst into his office, practically hyperventilating. "Can I marry your daughter?" Buck asks so quickly that Bobby had to wait a minute before he even realized what Buck said. "I beg your finest pardon?" Bobby borderline shouts. "Can I marry your daughter?" Buck asks more slowly, Bobby slowly puts his coffee mug down. "Do you care for her?" Bobby asks as he stands up from his chair and stalks towards Buck. Buck gulps before nodding. "More than life itself. I can't imagine my life without her." Buck says as he gives Bobby the signature puppy dog eyes of his. "Then you have my permission." Bobby says before Buck hugs Bobby so tightly, Bobby had to tap Buck on the shoulder hard a few times.

Buck spent three whole weekends looking for the perfect ring for Ally. Something dainty but sturdy, something just like her. Until he found it. One karat diamond in a silver band. Ally was overthinking the fact that Buck was being extremely secretive which wasn't like him but she shoves those feelings down but they gnaw at her.

Buck makes Ally breakfast and coffee on a beautiful Saturday morning. Ally comes down the stairs in a ratty oversized T-shirt and kisses Buck good morning before turning her attention to him. "Are you cheating..." Ally trails off when she sees him down on one knee on the floor with a black velvet jewelry box. "Allison Marie Nash, I had a whole speech prepared but honestly, fuck it. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?" Buck asks with a smile and Ally just about faints. Ally nods unable to speak. "I need words, princess." Buck says, tapping Ally's thigh lightly. "Holy fuck, I'll marry you!" Ally says before Buck pops back up and kisses her as he slips the ring on.

When Buck and Ally go to Bobby's house to tell the 118, Bobby makes a toast. "For the best daughter and future son-in-law God could've given me and to coffee. For that's how I have my consent." Bobby jokes.

The end!

Follow if you want to see more Ally and Buck

And don't forget to comment and reblog and interact

Mwah!

[lost-technology]

Travellers on the Midnight Train

A fanfiction, in snippets.

Summary: Views through the eyes of SEEDS Mothership 5’s crew. Combo-platter of ‘98 and Trigun Maximum.

1. 2.  3.  4.  5.  6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

6. Carboniferous

“Increase the feed, slowly, slowly…”  “I don’t wanna do this anymore!” the child’s voice said.  “You said I could go back to play with the toy-lady.”  “Just bear with us, Tesla.  We need to see if you are a Producer,” – a voice off-screen voice said, a man’s voice.  “This will not last long.”  “Aaah!  Please stop! It hurts!” The arm seized.  The wrist slammed against the strap.  The fisted hand opened, flattening into a full palm.  All along the arm sharp protuberances started sprouting from the skin.  They poured out and clattered to the floor.  Back in the present, Rowan yelped.  “What is that?  It’s coal!  It’s anthracite coal!”  “There’s more…unfortunately,” Mary said.  Dust filled the air of the room as unspecified dirt started pouring from the girl’s palm.  By her screams, she seemed as surprised by it as the people who were studying her were.  “Oh, it looks like she’s producing soil now? Organic soil,” Rowan said.  “And… vines and leaves…”  He stared at the screen for about 3 minutes before declaring “They’ve all withered and died.”  The girl’s exhausted panting could be heard as he closed the book and shook his head.  “I can’t watch anymore.”  “Yeah, it was pretty hard for me, too.  I’m afraid that pediatrics were not my specialty.  I couldn’t deal with the voices of children in pain.”  “Plant,” Rowan reminded, holding a hand to his hairline.  “Plant… not that it really makes a difference, right?  This is, on one end, amazing.  Apparently the subject was a Geoplant – a Geoplant walking around in human form.”    He and Mary traded uncomfortable looks.  They both knew how much a “walking Geoplant” would be a valuable asset – a property – to their mission.   

[cripplecharacters]

My girlfriend is writing a story that, after meeting me and hearing my experiences, she realized was about a (fantastical) disability and she decided to intentionally lean into that. As someone with a (real) disability, I have been a sort of beta reader to make sure that she is using her work to amplify stories rather than talk over them - she's been doing a great job on her own, largely in part because she's been asking me the right questions before writing scenes.

However, yesterday she made a post asking for help with the event that caused this fantastical disability, because the most logical cause is something big and flashy, while she wanted it to be something kinda mundane. In her own words, "most disabilities don't have flashy origin stories, they come from everyday things."

In reading the replies to this post, it came to my attention that people who have inorganic internal parts - pacemakers, replacement hips, etc. - would not survive the flashpoint. This felt wrong to me, but not because of how gruesome the image was, but because the overwhelming majority of people who have such parts are disabled. Everyone affected by the event is disabled thereafter, but a large swath of what I've been referring to her as "pre-disabilities" just wouldn't exist.

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't necessarily find this to be a bad thing per se. It's background details and the actual story is going to take place almost two decades later. It's worldbuilding that might not even see print, depending on how important that detail is to the story.

My issue is that, as she is writing a story intended to help talk about disability, it feels problematic to kill off a significant portion of pre-disabled characters in the background. I've brought this up to her and she does agree it sucks, the issue she has is that scientifically, it is more realistic.

I bring this question to you guys because the two of us are unsure how exactly to proceed. Do we just ignore internal inorganics entirely and let those with them survive even if it's not realistic? Is it okay to let them die for the story? Is there some middle-ground option that isn't coming to either of us?

(I can provide more detail if need be about the story.)

Hello

Basically, you have to be willing to use some Hail Mary complete and utter random caveat that you add in after the fact to keep a bunch of people from dying.

I don't know exactly how this "flashpoint" works but let's say it deactivates technology. Maybe things like a pacemaker, which is embedded inside of a human, can't be affected because the flashpoint couldn't affect it through the layer of biological matter. Maybe you make this a futuristic where all internal implants are made using biochemical engineering because, I don't know, maybe that gives them a longer life in the human body. Maybe the flashpoint is basically a giant magic put hey, lucky us, internal disability devices aren't made of magnetic metals, or maybe, again, they're made of modified biological tissue.

Basically, you need to completely bs it. It doesn't matter how realistic it is, the flashpoint is fake but disabled readers are real. You can do anything, it's your story, so if you want the disabled people to live, you can create a caveat that would let them live. And no one can say "that wouldn't work" because yeah, it would, because you said it would work in a world that you have complete and utter control of.

Don't be afraid to grasp at straws.

Mod Aaron

Thank you for your ask! Please don’t have people killed for having a specific disability! It’s hard to give more information without knowing what the ‘flashpoint’ is, but you could have the event target metals that aren’t used in humans if that’s the issue. You could also make the event something that wouldn’t target a specific group of people, you don’t have to change the whole story, just the side effects of the event. As mod Aaron said above, it’s your story and anything can go, so please don’t put an unnecessary mass extinction event.

I’d also say killing off a specific minority group for a story, whether or not the story is about that group, is a bad thing. People with implants should be allowed to see themselves in fantastical stories and not be told that they’d just be dead so don’t bother. As you said this happens in the background, this side effect isn’t integral to the story, so why add it? The readers are already suspending disbelief that this event happened in the book, so why not let them suspend disbelief that people with implants won’t be killed in this story?

Have a good day!

Mod Rot

[kmomof4]

To Sir Graham, With Love Ch. 5

Here we go, y'all!!! We are going now to updating twice a week!! I am SO UNBELIEVABLY EXCITED to share this ch with you! It is my favorite in the whole fic! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!!

Once again, all the love and thanks in the world to @jrob64 , @whimsicallyenchantedrose , and @motherkatereloyshipper respectively for their beta services and the gorgeous artwork above!!!

And more happy birthday wishes to @snowbellewells for whom this fic is written!!!

Summary: After a year long secret correspondence, twenty-eight year old spinster Ruby Jones decides to accept Sir Graham Humbert's offer of a visit to see if they might suit for marriage. Unfortunately, he failed to mention that he was the father of twins, and they are not thrilled with Ruby's appearance.

Ch Summary: The Jones brothers descend.

Rating: M (for smut in later chs and mentions of physical abuse)

Words: Approx 7300 of 68k

Tags: Red Hunter Fic, Birthday Fic, Inspired by Eloise Bridgerton's Story, Smut

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Chapter

On Tumblr Prologue Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza

@djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic

@anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling

@caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite

@captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose

@thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones

@mie779 @kymbersmith-90 @suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love 

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

We all miss Father, especially this time of year. But think how lucky you were to have had eighteen years with him. I remember so little, and I do wish he could have known me, and all that I’ve grown up to be.

–From Ruby Jones to her older brother, Viscount Liam Jones, upon the occasion of the tenth anniversary of their father’s death

~*~*~*~

… you will never know how unfortunate you are, dearest Mary Margaret, to have sisters only. Brothers are ever so much more fun.

–From Ruby Jones to Mary Margaret Blanchard, following a midnight ride in Hyde Park with her three older brothers

~*~*~*~*~*~*

It occurred to Graham that Ruby might have given him a bit of warning. Not days necessarily, but certainly more than the seconds he got before four rather strong and very angry men burst into the dining room. 

Brothers. It was quite ill-advised of him to court a woman with brothers. Especially four of them. It was a wonder he wasn’t dead already. 

Though that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility at the moment. Not with two pairs of hands wrapped around his neck.

“Liam!” Ruby shrieked, “Stop!”

Liam, or at least Graham presumed it was Liam - they hadn’t exactly bothered to go through the necessary introductions - tightened his grip.

“Killian,” Ruby pleaded, turning her attention to the other one currently engaged in squeezing the air out of him. “Be reasonable.”

Killian turned to look at Ruby, which turned out to be a mistake, since in their haste to rip every limb from Graham’s body, they failed to notice Ruby’s spectacular black eye.

Which, of course, they would think he was responsible for.

An inhuman growl came out of Killian’s mouth. He adjusted his grip and jammed Graham against the wall so tightly that his feet came off the ground.

Wonderful, Graham thought, now I really am going to die. The first stranglehold they’d had on him was uncomfortable, yes, but this��

“Stop!” Ruby yelled, jumping on Killian’s back and yanking his hair. Killian howled as his head jerked backward, but unfortunately Liam’s grip held firm. 

Graham couldn’t help but be impressed with Ruby’s fortitude as she tried her best to yank Killian’s hair out. It was a rare woman who knew how to fight to win. She rather resembled a fury crossed with a banshee crossed with Medusa herself, as far as Graham could tell, as his vision was starting to blacken around the edges from lack of oxygen.

“Good God!” Killian croaked out. “Someone get her off of me!” It was all he could get out since Ruby’s arm was wrapped around his throat, her forearm wedged neatly under his chin.

No one moved to help him, unsurprisingly. Graham certainly wouldn’t have desired that kind of fury directed at him. The blonde leaning against the door looked simply amused at the whole spectacle.

Liam’s face was suddenly only inches from his, the fury in his eyes a true wonder to behold. “Did. You. Hit. Her?” he growled.

As if he could utter a single word in answer.

“No!” Ruby shouted, briefly taking her attention off of tearing Killian’s hair out. “Of course he didn’t hit me.”

Liam looked over at her with a sharp expression as she resumed pummeling Killian. “There’s no of course about it, Ruby!”

“It was an accident,” she insisted. “He had nothing to do with it.” Ruby huffed indignantly when none of them made any indication that they believed her. “For heaven's sake, do you really think I’d be defending someone who struck me?”

That seemed to do the trick as Liam abruptly released Graham, allowing him to sag to the floor, gasping for breath.

Four of them. Had she told him she had four brothers? Surely not. He’d have never considered marriage to a woman with four brothers. Only a fool would have. And he did consider himself a man with at least a modicum of intelligence.

“What did you do to him?” Ruby demanded, jumping off Killian and hurrying to Graham’s side.

“What did he do to you?” one of the other brothers demanded. The one who’d punched Graham in the chin before the others decided to strangle him instead.

Ruby shot him a scathing look. “What are you doing here?”

“Protecting my sister’s honor,” he shot right back.

“As if I need protection from you. You’re not even twenty!”

Ah, her youngest brother, Graham realized. Damn, if he knew she had a younger brother, then she must have told him about the others. He had no one to blame but himself.

“I’m twenty-three,” he bit out, with all the irritability of a younger sibling.

“And I’m twenty-eight,” she snapped. “I didn’t need your help when you were in nappies, and I don’t need it now.”

“He wanted to come along,” said the blonde, the only one who hadn’t yet laid a hand on him. Graham decided he liked this one best, especially when he wrapped his hand around the youngest’s forearm to prevent him from launching himself at Ruby.

Which, Graham thought, was nothing more than she deserved. Nappies, indeed.

“Well, you should have stopped him,” Ruby said, oblivious to Graham’s mental defection. “Do you have any idea how mortifying this is?”

Her brothers stared at her - quite rightly, in Graham’s opinion - as if she’d gone mad.

“You lost the right,” Liam bit out as he advanced on his sister, “to feel mortified, embarrassed, chagrined, or in fact any emotion other than blindingly stupid, when you ran off without a word.”

Ruby backed up a step or two in the face of her brother’s wrath, but still muttered, “It’s not as if I’d listen to anything he has to say anyway.”

“As opposed to us,” the blonde murmured, “with whom you are the soul of meekness and obeisance.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Ruby muttered, rolling her eyes in annoyance and sounding rather fetchingly unladylike to Graham’s stinging ears. Stinging? Had someone boxed his ears? He wasn’t sure. Four-to-one odds did tend to muddle one’s thinking.

“You,” Liam said, pointing at Graham, still sitting on the floor, “don’t go anywhere.” Then he turned to Ruby, his voice low and deadly. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

Ruby tried to sidestep the question with one of her own. “What are you doing here?”

And apparently succeeded when Liam actually answered her. “Saving you from ruin!” he yelled. “For the love of God, Ruby, do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t even notice my departure,” she tried to joke.

“Ruby,” he said, “Mother is beside herself.”

That sobered her in an instant. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “I didn’t think.”

“No, you didn’t,” Liam replied, his stern tone exactly what one would expect from a man who’d been the head of his family for over twenty years. “I ought to take a whip to you.”

Graham started to intervene, because really, he couldn’t countenance a whipping, but then Liam added, “Or at the very least, a muzzle,” and Graham decided that the man knew his sister very well indeed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Killian asked him, and Graham realized that he’d begun to stand. He immediately plopped back down to his rather impotent position on the floor.

Graham looked to Ruby. “Perhaps introductions are in order?”

“Oh, yes,” Ruby said, gulping. “Of course. These are my brothers,” she said, her arm waving about in an all-encompassing gesture.

“I gathered,” Graham said, his voice still rather raspy.

She shot him an apologetic look, which Graham thought was the least she could do after nearly getting him tortured and killed, then turned to her brothers and motioned to each in turn. 

“Liam, Killian, David, Henry. These three,” she added, motioning to the older ones, “are my elders. This one,” she waved dismissively to Henry, her lip curling in disdain, “is an infant.”

Henry looked ready to throttle her, which suited Graham just fine, since it kept his murderous intentions off of him.

Then Ruby turned back to Graham and said to her brothers, “Sir Graham Humbert, but I expect you know that already.”

“You left a letter in your desk,” said David.

Ruby closed her eyes in agony. It looked like she was saying stupid, stupid, stupid.

David smiled grimly. “You ought to be more careful in the future, should you decide to run off again.”

“I most certainly will,” Ruby shot back, though she was losing some of her bite.

“Would now be a good time to stand?” Graham asked.

“NO!” It was difficult to discern which Jones brother was the loudest.

Graham remained on the floor. He didn’t tend to think himself a coward, and he was, if he did say so himself, quite proficient with his fists, but hell, there were four of them. Boxer he might be. Suicidal fool, he was not.

“How did you get that black eye?” David asked quietly.

Ruby paused before answering. “It was an accident.”

He considered her words for a moment and then lifted an eyebrow, his gaze on her shrewd. “Care to expand upon that?” he asked.

Ruby swallowed uncomfortably and glanced down at Graham, which he really wished she wouldn’t do. It only made them (as he was beginning to think of the quartet) further convinced that he was the one responsible for her injury.

A misapprehension that could only lead to his death and dismemberment. They didn’t seem the sorts to allow anyone to lay a hand on their sister, much less blacken an eye.

“Just tell them the truth, Ruby,” Graham said wearily.

“It was his children,” Ruby confessed, wincing at the admission. But Graham didn’t worry. As close as they came to strangling him, somehow he didn’t think they were the type of men to harm children. And he was quite sure Ruby would not have said anything if she’d thought it might place Nicholas and Ava in peril.

“He has children?” Liam asked, looking at him now with a slightly less angry and distrustful expression.

Graham decided Liam must be a father as well.

“Two,” Ruby replied. “Twins, actually. A boy and a girl.  They’re eight.”

“My felicitations,” Liam murmured.

“Thank you,” Graham answered, feeling rather old and weary at the moment. “Sympathies are probably more to the point.”

Liam looked at him curiously, almost - but not quite - smiling.

“They weren’t especially keen on my presence here,” Ruby said.

“Smart children,” Liam said.

She shot him a decidedly unamused look. “They set a tripwire,” she said. “Rather like the one David,” she turned to spear him with a hostile glare, “set for me in 1804.”

“You remember the date?!” David exclaimed.

“She remembers everything,” Killian interjected.

Ruby turned her glare upon Killian then.

Even with his aching throat, Graham was starting to enjoy the interaction.

She turned her attention back to Liam, regal as a queen. “I fell,” she said simply.

“On your eye?”

“On my hip actually, but I didn’t have time to break my fall, and I hit my cheek. The bruising spread to my eye.”

Liam looked down at Graham, his expression quite ferocious. “Is she telling the truth?”

“On my brother’s grave,” Graham nodded. “The children will own up to it as well, should you feel the need to ask them.”

“Of course not,” Liam said gruffly. “Stand up,” he ordered, but softened his tone by extending his hand to help him.

Graham took it, having already decided that Liam would make a far finer ally than enemy. He eyed the four male Joneses warily, though, and his stance was defensive. He stood no chance if all four decided to charge him at once, and he wasn’t convinced that that was not still a likely possibility.

At the end of the day, he was either going to be dead or married, and he wasn’t willing to allow the Jones brothers to vote on the matter.

Then, after Liam silenced his four younger siblings with nothing more than a stare, he turned to Graham and said, “Perhaps you should tell me what happened.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ruby open her mouth to interrupt, but then close it again when Liam turned his stare back on her. She sat down in a chair with an expression that, if it wasn’t actually meek, was the closest thing to meek Graham had ever imagined gracing Ruby’s face.

Graham decided that he needed to learn how to glare like Liam Jones. He’d have his children in line in no time.

“I don’t think Ruby will be interrupting us now,” Liam said mildly. “Please, go on.”

Graham glanced over at Ruby. She looked about ready to explode. But still, she held her tongue, which seemed a most remarkable feat indeed.

Graham briefly recounted the events that had led to Ruby’s arrival at Romney Hall. He told Liam about the letters, beginning with Ruby’s letter of condolence and how they had begun a friendly correspondence, pausing in his story only when David shook his head and murmured, “I always wondered what she was writing up in her room.”

Graham looked at him quizzically. He held up his fingers and explained. “Her fingers always had ink on them, and I never knew why.”

Graham finished the tale, concluding with, “As you can see, I was looking for a wife. From our correspondence, Ruby seemed to be intelligent, reasonable, and a fine candidate for my purposes. My children, as you will quickly realize should you remain long enough to meet them, can be rather, er…” He searched for the least unflattering adjective, “rambunctious,” he finally settled on, satisfied with his word choice. “I’d been hoping she would be a calming influence on them.”

“Ruby?” Killian snorted, and Graham could see from their expressions that the other three agreed with his assessment. 

And while Graham might smile at Killian’s comment about Ruby remembering everything, and even agree with Liam’s about the muzzle, it was becoming quite apparent that the Jones males did not hold their sister in the regard she deserved. 

“Your sister,” he said sharply, “has been a marvelous influence upon my children. You would do well not to disparage her in my presence.”

He’d probably just signed his own death warrant. There were four of them, after all, and he really shouldn’t be insulting them. But even if they had charged halfway across the country to protect Ruby’s virtue, there was no way he was going to stand here and listen to them snort and deride and make a mockery of her.

Not Ruby. 

Not in front of him.

But to his great surprise, not one of them said a word of retort, and in fact, Liam, who was still very much in charge, was staring intently at him with a look of cautious respect, assessing him carefully as if he could peel back the layers and see exactly what lay in Graham’s soul.

“We have a great deal to talk about, you and I,” he said quietly.

Graham nodded in agreement. “I expect you will need to speak to your sister as well.”

Ruby looked gratefully at him. He didn’t imagine she’d appreciate being left out of discussions pertaining to her own life. She didn’t appreciate being left out of discussions, period.

“Yes,” Liam said, “I do. In fact, I think we shall conduct our interview first, if you don’t mind.”

As if Graham was stupid enough to disagree with one Jones while three more were glaring at him. “You’re welcome to use my study,” he offered. “Ruby can show you the way.”

That was the wrong thing to say. None of the Jones brothers cared to be reminded that Ruby had been here long enough to know her way around.

Liam and Ruby left the room without another word while the other three brothers continued their stony silence.

“Mind if I sit?” Graham asked, because he had a feeling he was going to be here for quite some time.

“By all means,” David offered. Killian and Henry continued to glare menacingly at him. David didn’t look all that eager to strike up a friendship either. He might have been slightly more amiable than his brothers, but his eyes were sharp, and he’d already proved his shrewdness with his earlier question to Ruby. Graham knew he’d be wise not to underestimate the man.

“Please,” Graham said, motioning to the food still on the table, “eat.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” David said jovially, while the other two continued to scowl as if he’d offered them poison.

“How can you be thinking about food right now?” Henry asked angrily.

“I always think of food,” David replied, searching the table for the butter to spread on the roll he’d just plucked from the serving plate. “What else is there?”

“Your wife?” Killian drawled.

“Ah, yes,” David agreed then turned a hard stare to Graham. “Just so you are aware, I’d much rather be spending the night with my wife.”

Graham nodded, quite at a loss of how to reply to that statement. David took a huge bite of his roll, then spoke with his mouth full, the etiquette breach a clear insult to his host. “We’ve only been married a few weeks.”

Graham raised one of his brows in question. 

“Still newlyweds, you know.”

Graham nodded, since it seemed that some answer was expected of him.

David leaned forward. “I really didn’t want to leave my wife.”

“I can imagine… that… you wouldn’t,” Graham replied.

“Do you understand what he’s saying?” Henry demanded.

David turned and glared at his sibling, who’d obviously not yet mastered the fine art of nuanced and circumspect speech. Graham waited until David turned back to him, offered him a plate of asparagus (which he took), then said, “I gather you miss your wife.”

There was a moment of silence before David spoke again, after sending one last disdainful glance at his brother, “Indeed.”

Graham looked over at Killian, since he was the only one uninvolved in the latest spat. 

Big mistake. Killian was flexing his hands, still looking as if he regretted not strangling him when he’d had the chance. Graham turned his attention to Henry, whose arms were crossed angrily over his chest. His entire body practically quivered with fury, perhaps aimed at Graham, but perhaps aimed at his brothers, who’d been treating him like a green lad all evening. Henry’s chin jutted out, his teeth clenched and Graham decided he’d had quite enough of that.

He looked back at David, who’d somehow charmed the servants into bringing him a bowl of soup. He’d set down his spoon though and was inspecting his other hand, flexing each finger in turn, murmuring a word as each pointed out toward Graham.

“Miss. My. Wife.”

“Bloody hell!” Graham finally burst out. “If you’re going to break my legs, would you just go ahead and do it now?”

~*~*~

“Here are your choices,” Liam said, sitting down behind Graham’s desk as if he owned it. “You can marry him in one week, or you can marry him in two.”

Ruby’s mouth dropped in a horrified O. “Liam!”

“Did you expect me to suggest something else?” he asked mildly. “I suppose we might stretch it to three, given a sufficiently compelling reason.”

She hated it when he talked like that, as if he were reasonable and wise, and she was nothing more than a sulky, rebellious child. It was far better when he ranted and raved, then she could pretend that he was mad in the head and she was a poor, beleaguered innocent.

“I don’t see why you would object,” he continued. “Didn’t you come here with the intention to marry him?”

“No!” she exclaimed vehemently. “I came here with the intention to find out if he was suitable for marriage.”

“And is he?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “It’s only been two days.”

“And yet,” Liam said in that same mild, reasonable voice she hated, “that’s more than enough time to ruin your reputation.”

“Does anyone know I’m gone?” she quickly asked. “Outside of the family, that is.”

“No,” he admitted. “But someone will find out. Someone always finds out.”

“There was supposed to be a chaperone,” Ruby said sullenly.

“Was there?” he asked conversationally. He sounded like he was asking if there was to be lamb for dinner or if a hunting party was to be arranged. “Too bad for her that I arrived first.”

“Too bad for everyone,” Ruby muttered.

“What was that?” he asked, again in that conversational tone that told her he’d heard every word.

“Liam,” she said, and his name came out like a plea, even if she had no idea what she was pleading for.

He turned to her, his blue eyes blazing, the force of his stare so violent that she was quite thankful he was her brother and loved her and wouldn’t hurt her. Even so, she took a step back. Anyone would have when faced with Liam Jones in such a fury.

But when he spoke, his voice was even and controlled. “You’ve made yourself a rather messy little bed here,” he said, his cadence even and precise, “and now, I’m afraid, you will have to lie in it.”

“You would have me marry a man I don’t know?” she whispered.

“Is that even the truth?” he asked. “You seemed to know him very well in the dining room earlier. You certainly leapt to his defense at every opportunity.”

Liam was talking her into a corner and she hated it. “Not enough for marriage,” she insisted. “At least not yet.”

But Liam wouldn’t let up. “If not now, when? One week? Two?”

“STOP!” she burst out, wanting to cover her ears so she couldn’t hear him anymore. “I can’t think!”

“No, you didn’t think,” he corrected, angrily. “If you’d taken one moment to think, to use that tiny portion of your brain reserved for common sense, you never would have run off.”

She crossed her arms and looked away from him. She had no argument and it was killing her.

“What are you going to do, Ruby?” Liam asked.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, still not able to look him in the face.

“Well,” he said, still continuing in that awful, reasonable voice, “that puts us in a bit of a bind, doesn’t it?”

“Can’t you just say it?” she asked, her fists held rigidly against her sides. “Do you have to ask so many questions?”

He smiled humorlessly. “And here I thought you’d appreciate my soliciting your opinion.”

“You’re being condescending and you know it.”

He leaned forward, thunder in his eyes. “You can be very thankful that I am able to hold on to my temper with both hands.”

Ruby wisely held her tongue.

“You ran off in the middle of the night,” he said, rising to his feet, “without a word. Without even a note…”

“I left a note!” she cried out indignantly.

He looked at her completely disbelieving. 

“I did,” she insisted. “I left it on the side table in the front hall. Right next to the Chinese vase.”

“And this mysterious note said…”

“It said,” she began, swallowing hard before continuing, “not to worry. I was fine and would contact you all within a month.”

“Ahh,” Liam said, sarcasm dripping from his lips. “That would have certainly set my mind at ease.”

“I don’t know why you didn’t get it,” Ruby murmured. “It probably got mixed up with a pile of invitations.”

“For all we knew,” Liam continued, taking a step toward her around the desk, “you’d been kidnapped.”

Ruby paled. She’d never even considered that her family might think such a thing. It hadn’t occurred to her that her note might go astray.

“Do you know what Mother did?” Liam asked, his voice deadly serious. “After nearly collapsing with worry?”

Ruby shook her head, afraid of the answer.

“She went to the bank,” Liam continued. “Do you know why?”

“Can’t you just tell me?” she asked wearily. She hated the questions.

“She went there,” he said, taking slow, purposeful, terrifying steps toward her, “to make sure that all her funds were in the proper order should she need to ransom you!”

Ruby shrank back at the fury in Liam’s voice. I left a note, she wanted to say again, but it didn’t signify anymore, and she knew it. She’d been wrong, and she’d been foolish, and she didn’t want to compound her stupidity by trying to excuse or justify it.

“Mary Margaret was the one who finally figured out what you’d done,” Liam said. “We asked her to search your room, since she’s probably spent more time there than the rest of us combined.”

Ruby nodded. Mary Margaret had been her closest friend. She still was, in fact, even though she’d gone and married David. They’d spent countless hours up in her room, talking about anything and everything. Graham’s letters had been the only secret Ruby had ever kept from her.

“Where did she find the letter?” Ruby asked. Not that it mattered, but she couldn’t curb her curiosity.

“It had fallen behind your desk.” Liam crossed his arms. “Along with a pressed flower.”

Somehow that seemed fitting and it made Ruby smile. “He’s a botanist,” she whispered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“A botanist,” she said, louder this time. “Sir Graham. He took a first at Cambridge. He would have been an academic if his brother hadn’t died at Waterloo.”

Liam nodded, digesting the information as well as the fact that she knew it. “If you tell me that he’s a cruel man, that he will beat you, that he will insult you and demean you, I will not force your hand.” He looked at her sternly for a moment before continuing. “But, before you speak, I want you to consider my words. You are a Jones. I don’t care who you marry or what your name becomes when you stand up before a priest and say your vows. You will always be a Jones, and we behave with honor and honesty, not because it is expected of us, but because that is what we are.” 

Ruby nodded, swallowing hard as she fought the tears that were stinging her eyes.

“So, I will ask you right now,” he continued. “Is there any reason you cannot marry Sir Graham Humbert?”

“No,” she whispered. She didn’t even hesitate. She wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t yet ready for the marriage, but she wouldn’t sully the truth by hesitating with her answer.

“I thought not.”

She stood still, not certain what to say or do next. She turned away from her brother, quite certain he knew she was crying, but unwilling to let him see her tears anyway. “I’ll marry him,” she whispered. “It’s just that I’d… I’d hoped…”

Liam stood silent, respecting her distress, but when she didn’t continue, he spoke. “What did you hope for, Ruby?”

“I hoped for a love match,” she said, even softer than before, finally turning to face him. 

“I see,” he said, his hearing superb as always. “You should have thought of that before you ran off.”

She hated him in that moment. “You have a love match,” she choked out. “You of all people should understand!”

“I,” he said in a tone that told her he did not appreciate her trying to make the conversation about him, “married my wife after we were caught in a compromising position by the biggest bloody gossip in all of England.”

Ruby let out a long breath. She felt so stupid. It had been so many years since Liam had married Elsa, she’d forgotten the circumstances.

“I didn’t love Elsa when I married her,” he continued, “or,” he added, his voice growing a bit softer, more gruff and nostalgic, “if I did, I did not yet realize it.”

“You were very lucky.” Ruby could only hope and pray that she’d be that lucky with Sir Graham. 

And then Liam surprised her. He didn’t scold and he didn’t reprimand. He simply said, “I know.”

“I felt lost,” she whispered. “When David and Mary Margaret married…” She sank into a chair and let her head drop into her hands. “I’m a terrible person. I must be a terrible person, horrible and shallow, because when they married, all I could think about was myself.”

Liam sighed and knelt next to her. “You are not a terrible person, Ruby. You know that.”

Ruby looked up at her brother and wondered when he became so wise. If he’d yelled one more word, spent one more minute speaking to her in that mocking condescending voice, she would have broken. She would have broken, and something would have been utterly and irreparably destroyed between them.

But here he was, Viscount Liam Jones of all people, who was arrogant and proud, and every inch the arch nobleman he’d been born to be, kneeling at her side, placing his hand on hers, and speaking with a kindness that nearly broke her heart.

“I was happy for them,” she said. “I am happy for them.”

“I know you are.”

“I should have felt nothing but joy.”

“If you had, you wouldn’t be human.”

“Mary Margaret became my sister,” she said. “I should have been happy.”

“Didn’t you say that you were?”

She nodded. “I am. I am. I know that I am. I’m not just saying it.”

He smiled gently at her and waited for her to continue.

“It’s just that suddenly I felt so lonely, and so old.” She looked at him, wondering if he could possibly understand. “I never thought I would be left behind.”

He chuckled. “Ruby Jones, I don’t think anyone would ever make the mistake of leaving you behind.”

Her lips curved into a wobbly smile, marveling that her brother of all people could actually say the exact right thing. “I suppose I never really thought I’d be a spinster,” she said. “Or, if I was, then Mary Margaret would be one too. It wasn’t very kind of me, and I didn’t really think about it much, but…”

“But that’s just how it was,” he said, doing her the kindness of completing her thought. “I don’t think either one of them ever thought they’d marry. Much less to each other. But love can rather creep up on a person, you know.”

She nodded, wondering if it could creep up on her. Probably not. She was the sort of person who would need it whacked over her head.

“I’m glad they’re married,” Ruby said.

“I know you are. I am, too.”

“Sir Graham,” she said, motioning toward the door, “we’d been corresponding for over a year. And then he mentioned marriage.” She shrugged. “And he did it in such a sensible manner. He didn’t propose. He just inquired if I might like to visit, to see if we would suit. I told myself he was mad, that I couldn’t possibly consider such an offer. Who would marry someone she didn’t know?” She let out a shaky little laugh. “And then David and Mary Margaret announced their engagement. It was as if my entire world flipped sideways. And that was when I started thinking about it. Every time I looked at my desk, at the drawer where I kept his letters, I couldn’t get them out of my mind.”

Liam said nothing, nor did he move from his place on the floor. Merely squeezing her hand in understanding.

“I had to do something,” she continued. “I couldn’t just sit and wait for life to happen to me any longer.”

Another chuckle escaped his lips. “Ruby,” he said, “that is the last thing I would ever worry about on your behalf.”

“Li…”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted smoothly. “You’re one of the special ones, Ruby. Life never happens to you. Trust me on this. I’ve watched you grow up, had to be your father at times when I wanted only to be your brother.”

Her lips parted as something squeezed around her heart. He was right. He had been a father to her. It was a role neither of them had wanted for him, but he had done it for years, without complaint. Not that she was complaining about Liam filling that role, she was very thankful to have had him there. Now she squeezed his hand, not because she loved him, but because it was only now that she realized how very much she did.

“You happen to life, Ruby,” Liam said. “You’ve always made your own decisions, always been in control. It might not always feel that way, but it’s true.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. “Well, that’s what I was trying to do when I came here. It seemed like a good plan.”

“And maybe,” Liam said quietly, “you’ll find that it was indeed a good plan. Sir Graham seems an honorable sort.

Ruby raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You were able to deduce this while you had your hands wrapped around his throat?”

He shot her a thoroughly condescending look. “You’d be surprised what men can deduce about one another while fighting.”

“You call that fighting?” she cried. “It was four against one!”

Liam shrugged. “I never said it was fair fighting.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“An interesting adjective considering your recent activities.”

Ruby felt herself flush.

“Very well,” Liam said, his brisk tone signaling a change of topic. “Here is what we are going to do.” And Ruby knew by the tone of his voice that whatever he said would be exactly what she would do. “You will pack your bags immediately,” he continued. “We will travel to My Cottage and remain there for a week.”

Ruby nodded. My Cottage was the rather odd name of Killian’s country home, situated not too far from Romney Hall in Wiltshire. Seeing that his wife, Emma was expecting their third child in another couple of months, they’d elected not to go to London for the season. It wasn’t a large home, but it was plenty big enough for a few extra Joneses.

“Your Sir Graham may come visit each day,” Liam continued, which Ruby correctly understood to mean Your Sir Graham will come visit each day. Ruby nodded again. “If at the end of the week, I determine that he is good enough to marry my sister, you will do so. Immediately.”

“You’re certain you can judge the measure of a man’s character in one week?”

“It rarely takes longer,” Liam stated, “And it is even more rare that I am wrong in my assessment of a man’s character. But if for some reason I am unsure, we will simply wait another sennight.” 

“Sir Graham might not care to marry me,” Ruby felt compelled to point out.

Liam leveled a hard stare at her face. “He hasn’t that option.”

Ruby gulped.

“Do we understand each other?” he asked, one brow rising in an arrogant arch.

She nodded. His plan was reasonable. She couldn’t deny that. Much more reasonable, in fact, than many other older brothers of the ton would have allowed. And if something happened, if something went horribly wrong and she decided she couldn’t possibly marry Sir Graham, well then, she had a week to figure out a way to get out of it. A lot could happen in a week. She huffed. Just look at the last one.

“Shall we return to the dining room?” Liam asked. “I assume you’re hungry and if we tarry much longer, David is liable to eat our host out of house and home.”

Ruby nodded. “That, or they’ve killed him by now.”

Liam pursed his lips in consideration. “It would save me the expense of a wedding,” he mused.

“Liam!”

“It’s a joke, Ruby,” he said, shaking his head at her. “Come along, now. Let’s make sure your Sir Graham is still in the land of the living.”

A few minutes later, Ruby and Liam entered the dining room again to see the four men lounging around the table - Graham, Killian, and Henry with empty plates before them looked quite satisfied, and tipsy as well. David was still eating.

“And then,” Killian said, “ the tavern wench arrived and she had the biggest…”

“Killian!” Ruby cried, shocked.

Killian looked over at his sister with a supremely guilty expression, yanked back his hands, which were demonstrating the size of what was clearly an impossibly endowed female, and muttered, “Sorry.”

“You’re married,” she scolded, thoroughly embarrassed at what she’d walked in on.

“But not blind,” David cheeked.

“You’re married too!”

“But not blind,” he repeated with a sly grin.

“Ruby,” Henry began with what was quite possibly the most annoying use of condescension she’d ever heard in her life, “there are some things in life that are impossible not to notice. Especially if one is a man.”

“It’s true,” Liam said. “I saw it myself.”

Ruby gasped as she looked from brother to brother, looking for some semblance of sanity in this cesspool of masculine madness. Her eyes fell to Graham, who, by the looks of him, not to mention his quite inebriated state, had formed a lifelong bond with her brothers during the time she’d been closeted away with Liam.

“Sir Graham?” she asked, waiting for him to say something acceptable.

But he just offered her a goofy grin. “I know who they’re talking about,” he said. “Been to that inn many times myself. Mildred is quite famous in these parts.”

“Even I’ve heard of her,” Killian said, with a knowing nod. “I’m only an hour away on horseback. Less, if need calls.”

Henry leaned toward Graham, his green eyes gleaming with interest as he asked, “So, did you? Ever?”

“Henry!” Ruby yelled. This was unconscionable. Her brothers should never have been talking about such things in front of her in the first place, but even more, the last thing she wanted to know was whether Sir Graham had ever tupped a tavern wench with bosoms the size of soup tureens.

But Graham shook his head. “She’s married,” he said. “As was I.”

Liam turned to Ruby and whispered, “He’ll do.”

“I’m glad you have such high standards for your beloved sister,” she muttered.

“I told you,” Liam remarked, “I’ve seen Mildred. This is a man with restraint.”

She planted her hands on her hips and looked her brother squarely in the eye. “Were you tempted?”

“Of course not! Elsa would slit my throat.”

“I’m not talking about what Elsa would do to you if you strayed, although I’m of the opinion that she would not start at your throat…” Liam winced. He knew it was true. “I want to know if you were tempted.”

“No,” he admitted, shaking his head. “But don’t tell anyone,” he whispered. “I was once a rather well known rake in my younger days. Wouldn’t do for the ton to think I’m completely tamed.” The charming smirk he sent her was almost enough to make her laugh - knowing just how in love her brother and his wife were - but she was able to suppress it under a haughty eye roll.

“You’re appalling.”

“And yet, my wife still loves me to distraction,” he said with a grin. “And that is all that really matters, isn’t it?”

Ruby supposed he was right. She sighed. “What are we going to do about them?” she asked, motioning around to the jolly quartet.

Liam shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re going to do, but I’m going to join them.” 

Ruby watched, her mouth hanging open slightly, as Liam sat down at the table and poured himself a glass of wine. Thankfully the conversation had moved on from Mildred and her tremendous bosoms, and now they were talking about boxing. Or at least, that’s what Ruby thought they were talking about. Graham was showing Henry some kind of hand maneuver and then punched him in the face.

“So sorry,” Graham said, patting Henry on the back. But Ruby could just see the right corner of his mouth curving up ever so slightly. “Won’t hurt for long, I’m sure. My chin is feeling better already.” 

Henry grunted something that was probably along the lines of it not hurting a bit, but he still rubbed his chin nonetheless.

“Sir Graham,” Ruby said loudly, “might I have a word with you?”

“Of course,” he said, standing up immediately, although all the men should have been on their feet, since she’d never vacated her presence in the doorway.

Graham walked quickly, or as quickly as he was able in his inebriated state, to her side. “Is anything amiss?” he asked.

“I was worried that I was going to return to find that they’d killed you!” she hissed.

“Oh.” He smiled, that loopy, three-glasses-of-wine sort of smile. “They didn’t.”

“I can see that,” she ground out. “What happened?”

He looked back over at the table. Liam was eating the meager scraps that David had left behind (almost certainly because he didn’t realize they were there), Killian was tipping back in his chair trying to balance it on two legs, and Henry was humming to himself with his eyes shut and a rather pleased smile on his lips - presumably thinking about Mildred, or more likely, certain large and squishy parts of Mildred. Graham turned back to her and shrugged. 

“When,” Ruby said, holding on to her patience and her temper with both hands, “did you all become the best of friends?”

“Oh,” he said, nodding seriously. “Funny thing actually. I told them to break my legs.”

Ruby just stared at him, mouth agape. As long as she lived, she’d never understand men. She had four brothers, and quite frankly should have understood them better than most women. But after twenty-eight years, she finally came to a quite certain realization: All men were freaks.

Graham shrugged again. “It seemed to break the ice.”

“Clearly.”

She stared at him, and he stared at her, and Liam stared at them from the table. Graham sobered. “We’ll have to marry.”

“Yes, I know.”

“They really will break my legs if we don’t.”

“That’s not all they would do,” she grumbled, “but even so, a lady might like to think she’s been chosen for a reason other than osteopathic health.”

Graham simply blinked at her.

“What?” she snapped. “I’ve studied Latin.”

“Right,” he said, drawing it out like men did when they were trying to disguise that they really didn’t know what to say.

“Or at least,” she tried again, desperately searching for some other word that might be loosely interpreted as a compliment, “if not a reason other, than perhaps a reason in addition.”

“Right,” he said again, but nothing more.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked over at the table. “How much wine have you drunk?”

“Only three,” he assured her. “Or maybe, four.”

“Glasses or bottles?” He didn’t seem to know the answer to that. Ruby could see four bottles littering the table. Three of them were empty.

“I wasn’t gone that long,” she said, incredulously.

Graham shrugged again. “It was either drink with them or let them break my legs. Seemed like a very sound decision.”

“Liam,” she called. She’d had quite enough of Graham, her brothers… everything, in fact. Marriage, men, giant bosoms, broken legs, and empty wine bottles. But most of all, she’d had enough of feeling so out of control, so helpless against the tides of her life.

“I want to go,” she said.

Liam nodded and grunted, still chewing the solitary piece of chicken David had missed.

“Now, Liam.”

He must have heard the crack in her voice, the hollow note that choked on the syllables, because he stood immediately, her other brothers quickly following suit.

Ruby had never been happier to see the inside of a carriage in all her life.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! I'd love to know what you think! Next ch will post before I go to bed Friday night!

[nyctomancer]

Merry Christmas, Please Don't Call (Click here to read!)

John Watson/Sherlock Holmes, 5,158 w. (so far), Chapters: 2/?

Main Tags: Post-Reichenbach, Fix-It Of Sorts, No Mary Morstan, Slow Burn

Summary:

Feet pattering against linoleum floor, he runs for what feels like days on end, every day of the week. Every alarm that rings does so in lieu of bullets raining down on him, each body wheeled into A&E another way to keep his mind moving. He has to keep moving. Lest he dwell on the one man he couldn’t save. Or: John has never been the type to settle down, so after Sherlock's death, he throws himself back into work as a doctor in A&E. When that new life is disrupted, though, what comes of it?

Warning: There will be future Graphic Depictions of Violence, not sure if I have to add that warning now or when the chapter containing it is up?

A/N: this fic is the first one i've posted on here, and i'm lowk terrified but enjoy?!? additional tags below for those who want them:

Angst, Reunions, Emergency Doctor John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Post-Reichenbach, Fix-It of Sorts, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Requited Unrequited Love, oopsie! sherlock was alive the whole time!, Grief/Mourning, No Mary Morstan, Angry John Watson, he finally lets go, good for him, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like men, Slow Burn

Link to the fic again:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64124728/chapters/164538535

[statustemporary]

take my hand, take a breath

SUMMARY: Viscount Bridgerton was stubborn, frustrating, got in his own way more often than not, and there was a melancholy about his person most times when she saw him, but she gave him more leeway than she did nearly all of the rest of the Ton.

Except when conversing with her charge before an introduction, a conversation that is decidedly not their first.

//

Or Lady Danbury notices Kate has given them the slip during the Conservatory Ball and she finds her charge having a conversation with the viscount in the garden.

RATING: General Audiences

WORD COUNT: 1,760 words

TAGS: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Conservatory Ball AU, First Dance, no beta we die like edmund bridgerton

AO3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: ahhh not only is this the most i've written since like october??? but this is also my first work for bridgerton. kanthony brainrot has never left me so time to put it to paper. anyway this was inspired by one of my 87 different fanfic prompts i've been posting to tumblr (on @myficprompts) in hopes others will write it but i got impatient on this one and figured i'd just do it myself. (would love to see someone take on the original prompt though! please!!!!! thanks!!!)

***

Despite the way they have butted heads since their introduction, Lady Danbury had a begrudging respect for Miss Sharma. Her obstinance in the face of harsh truths was admirable to a degree. Frustrating, to be certain. Ill-mannered, to some extent. Yet the firm set of her shoulders, straight back, and words infused with a note of smugness proved she would be a formidable gatekeeper for her sister’s suitors.

If only the miss would not write herself off so young. Old maid by the Ton’s standards, unfortunately, but by her own, she had a full life still ahead of her.

Miss Sharma may have rejected her suggestion of a match but the curious way in which she admired Viscount Anthony Bridgerton also proved that the walls fortified around her young heart were not impenetrable.

Which meant that Miss Sharma’s disappearance in the midst of her sister’s first dance raised alarm.

As much as she had written herself off, she was still under Lady Danbury’s protection. Personal declarations of not being on the marriage mart did not make her unsusceptible to being compromised or other scandal. A thought that she would have hoped Miss Sharma to consider before wandering off but as Lady Danbury learned earlier, there was still much for her to learn about the Ton.

The dowager parted ways from a nervous Lady Mary with nothing more than a quip about watching her thirst before she moved about the room. The music covered the sound of her cane clacking against the wood floor and gave Lady Danbury the ability to slink along the walls of the conservatory.

Her stop at the set of windows near the entrance door proved most fruitful. She heard the faint sounds of gentlemen departing for the smoking room and, just before she continued her search, she spied her own charge stepping into close proximity to the viscount.

In view of the ballroom and still a respectable distance to not cause scandal, Lady Danbury did not appreciate the familiar nature in which the two conversed, especially as they had not been introduced. Huffing, she made her way to the entry garden.

“…as deficient as your horsemanship. I shall bid you goodnight.”

Lady Danbury came around the hedge at the same moment as Miss Sharma, their bodies nearly colliding.

“Miss Sharma,” she drawled, resting both hands on the head of her cane. She scrutinized the young woman, her eyes traveling to the flustered man who gaped at them like a fish out of water. “Viscount Bridgerton. How curious to find you both out here. Together.”

“My apologies, Lady Danbury – ” Viscount Bridgerton attempted to speak before Miss Sharma cut in suddenly, louder.

“I simply needed air. I did not realize I had to alert you of my need for a break.” She smiled, thin-lipped and with a hint of frustration – at the viscount, at her, at the situation – before bowing her head to Lady Danbury.

“Yes, well, seeing as you are under my protection,” Lady Danbury said, a warning glance to Viscount Bridgerton as he looked equal parts fearful and thrilled at the information, “I fear I did not stress the seriousness of some of the Ton’s etiquette specificities. It is of the utmost importance that they are understood, to lessen any troubles of your sister making a good match. Understood?”

Miss Sharma bit her tongue, her eyes darting to the side to the silent viscount behind her. “Of course, Lady Danbury,” she forced out.

“Lady Danbury, if I may – ”

Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the boy she’d known since he was in leading strings. A boy no longer if the title of Rake he’d worn without care for years meant anything. She always had a soft spot for the Bridgerton family. Her own connection aside, to find a love match such as the one between Edmund and Violet, a love match that proved fruitful until the eighth viscount’s death, was a rarity in the Ton. The strength of the family bonded by that love match showed in the closeness of the children and the genuine love and affection they showered upon each other. Even when she’d watch the children squabble and fight, it was never with the nasty cold demeanor of the rest of the Ton.

Then to watch as Anthony took on the role of viscount, father, and provider before heading to university had softened her more. Lady Danbury admired the way he took care of his family and how he not only kept them afloat following his father’s death but ensured that they thrived. He was stubborn, frustrating, got in his own way more often than not, and there was a melancholy about his person most times when she saw him, but she gave him more leeway than she did nearly all of the rest of the Ton.

Except when conversing with her charge before an introduction, a conversation that is decidedly not their first. She did, after all, recall Miss Sharma’s slip of the tongue on the edge of the dance floor.

“You have done quite enough, Viscount Bridgerton.”

Her glare silenced the viscount as his mouth thinned and his brows furrowed in displeasure.

“Lady Danbury, I must go see to my sister – ”

“Your sister is being looked after by your mother, Miss Sharma. Perhaps you should let those of us seasoned within the Ton take over from here.”

Miss Sharma pressed her lips together for a moment before she responded. “With all due respect, as I mentioned earlier, I was the one to prepare my sister for her debut and I really should be helping to vet the quality of her dance partners…”

The young woman’s words never made it to Lady Danbury’s ears as her eyes were too busy taking in the scene before her. They flickered between Miss Sharma and Viscount Bridgerton with a quick and startling realization.

Cut from the same cloth, they stood before her as the eldest siblings of their families, the caretakers and providers, with strong shoulders upon which the heavy burdens of their families laid. The protectors who cannot see the wood for the trees in regards to the marriage mart.

Equals.

“Hm,” Lady Danbury cut Miss Sharma off. “A dance is a brilliant idea.”

“My lady?” Miss Sharma asked, blinking her eyes in confusion.

“Pardon me?” Viscount Bridgerton asked behind her.

Lady Danbury hit her cane against the ground. Even without the sound of its impact, the two before her stood just a hair taller. She raised her voice as the doors to the ballroom opened. “How wonderful of Viscount Bridgerton to ask for your next dance. Splendid indeed!”

Miss Sharma huffed. “He absolutely did nothing of the sort. He cannot even dance.”

Viscount Bridgerton rolled his eyes. “Now you object to my dancing abilities?”

“I saw how you nearly trampled the young miss on your last dance.”

A smug grin worked its way onto his face as he stepped closer. “So you admit to eavesdropping and watching me now?”

“As I said, it is not eavesdropping if you speak loud enough for the entire party to hear!”

Lady Danbury cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows expectantly at the two in front of her. She swung out her cane, hitting their shins and watching in satisfaction as the two stepped apart though neither were entirely pleased.

“Yes, a dance will be a nice way to tidy this situation up. Afterall,” she said, lowering her voice, “it would not do well for others to know of your conversations and familiarity prior to an introduction. And I will require to know just how familiar you are with each other.”

Miss Sharma laughed off the suggestion. “That will not be necessary, Lady Danbury. I do not host any of the, what was it,” she turned to the viscount for a moment with a saccharine smile before facing Lady Danbury once more. “Ah, yes, impeccable qualities that Viscount Bridgerton is in search of in a wife.”

This time, the huff came from the viscount’s mouth. “That is completely unfair and you know it, Miss Sharma,” he said, a teasing lilt endearing to his voice as he said her name, negating the frustration that colored it prior. He cleared his throat before she could respond and grinned at Lady Danbury much like the cat that ate the canary. “However, you are right, Lady Danbury. A dance is a wonderful idea to mitigate any chance of scandal.”

She watched in amusement as Viscount Bridgerton’s grin widened when he turned to Miss Sharma. He lifted his hand and held it out to her, waiting for a moment.

“Miss Sharma, may I have this dance?”

Despite his proud swagger, the viscount’s request came out soft and like a whisper. His eyes crinkled and his gaze warmed, melting the arrogance that so often moved him forward. For a moment, Lady Danbury felt as if she was witnessing Edmund charming Violet all over again.

Miss Sharma’s breath hitched in the back of her throat at the intimacy that laced his words and she swallowed before quietly answering her agreement. Her hand shook, though Lady Danbury assumed she was the only one to notice, as she lifted it to place in the viscount’s.

Lady Danbury hummed in satisfaction as she allowed the two to enter the ballroom before her, Viscount Bridgerton’s perfect posture only lending to the peacocking he did as he led Miss Sharma to the dance floor. If she knew the viscount as well as she believed to, his peacocking, was less of a matter of besting Miss Sharma at their undisclosed challenge and more at having her on his arm, contrary to what he was currently telling himself. The way their eyes never strayed from one another as they readied themselves only proved her point.

From the corner of her eye, she watched Violet’s jaw drop minutely before their eyes met.

Did he willingly ask…? Her oldest friend seemed to ask. Lady Danbury nodded with a smug smile. The viscount who saw finding a wife more of a duty and chore than a chance for happiness, bewitched by a so-called spinster.

The music started and the two moved in perfect harmony. Their connection was palpable and they enchanted the room as they seemed to float through each step. Only when they began to whisper amongst themselves, a mix of bickering and flirting, did Lady Danbury notice the queen’s arrival at her side.

“What an interesting season this will be,” Queen Charlotte murmured, her smile pleased and mischievous.

“Interesting, indeed.”