#trying this again because Tumblr ate my tags

[watermotif]

i remember once reading your tags about how your perception of writer’s block was changed by a book/author….? I’m struggling with it at the moment so if you have advice 🤲🏽

I typed up such a long answer and then tumblr ate it AGH but here we go again. What it really boils down to is dont start wallowing in your writers block

It was this anthony bourdain quote, which I read at a point where i was spending more time complaining about writers block than actually writing

My writers block came from the fact that i saw it as this incredibly intimidating task, that everything i write has to be perfect and irreproachable in every way etc. Basically putting so much pressure on myself that i just didnt write at all. Which is silly! Like, what a privilege to be able to sit at my desk for hours and whine because i cant get a sentence right, you know? & meanwhile the world is going up in flames. I'm very good at pitying myself and wallowing (lol) but i remembered that if i keep going like this, i will never write anything and only complain. Which scares me more than the idea of writing something bad! You can edit and improve bad writing but you cant edit a nothing. So I try to stop agonizing about talent & focus on sticking with the habit instead. (It's like that fka twigs quote hard work beats talent when talent doesnt work hard etc)

This hanif post is also something i think about a lot. If this is what i decide to do with my limited time on earth then i need to take it seriously and so on

Of course all of this doesnt mean that i find it easy to write! I still complain about it, i still find that sometimes it feels like pulling teeth, sometimes it still feels high stakes. Every day is different! When i struggle with starting i find that marie howe exercise helpful. But it's also okay (and necessary) to step away from it when it doesnt work. Do anything else, go for a walk, make something with your hands, watch a movie etc. It will come back to you, even if it's days, weeks, months later!

And then of course there is this poem by marge piercy. The real writer is one who really writes!

Hope this is somehow coherent ^_^ Good luck with your writing❣️

[malartsorte]

I also want to have six floating hands to hug meself with

[wizards-kissing]

something something eating you eating you etc

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I am I the asshole for telling someone what they were doing was "mean spirited and cruel"?

(submitted this a while back but was never posted - don't know if tumblr ate it or if it broke a rule, but i'm sorry if its the latter)

My complex has a facebook page where residents can post questions or concerns to other residents. One day a woman posted asking if we could move the food bowls where people feed the feral cat colony that lives near us because when she walks her dogs they always lunge at the cats; she had just had surgery and it hurt when they pulled on the leash. Someone responded saying they had moved the bowls down and that seemed like that.

Two days later she posted again saying that our "kind and caring neighbor" (her) had called someone to come pick up the cats. From another comment on the post it seemed like she had talked to someone IRL who was rude and basically told her "I've been feeding the cats for 10 years fuck off" and then called animal control immediately after that.

This felt really petty to me, and I posted saying that calling animal control on the cats was "mean spirited and cruel". I explained that almost all feral cats taken in are put down, and that she was making a decision about the community's cats without consulting the community. I added that I was sorry she had been hurting since her surgery, but that there were other steps she should have taken before this.

She responded that I needed to have more compassion for her as she herself was very compassionate and caring person. To which I responded that she should then extend that compassion to these cats that had never hurt anyone. (Seriously, they just chill around our complex and eat rats – they’ve never scratched or bit any person or animal)

She responded that they hurt her “fur babies” everyday because they make her dogs pull at their leashes and choke themselves. She then went on a rant about how she didn’t understand why people weren’t respecting her anger and that since she lived here she had a right to want the cats gone. She also mentioned that calling her “mean spirited and cruel” had racial connotations and that I wouldn’t call a white person that.

Important context, I am a white woman – up until this point I had not realized that she was a black woman as this argument was in a facebook group and the pictures were small. But it is very possible this is something I saw and internalized without consciously recognizing it.

I was really thrown by this, and just replied yes, I would and that I’m sorry it hurt to hear, but that is what her actions were. (Which, yeah, nobody ever not in the racist category uses the ‘I’d say that to anyone!’ excuse, but I truly didn’t know what to say). She continued to respond to my comment saying how I was a pitiful person if I’d really call anyone that, and that I hadn’t addressed any of her other points.

More people where commenting at the same time on this post, and while she responded to all of them my “mean spirited and cruel” comment apparently really got her because she kept bringing it up in arguments with other people. She really felt that people were being unjustifiably angry and mean to her for something she thought she had a right to do.

It also came out that she had apparently posted complaining about the cats the day before but it had gotten so out of hand the post was deleted before I could see it. She had also gotten into several arguments IRL with people feeding the cats. This explains why she felt so ganged up on I suppose – though none of this I knew before replying.

The next day she specifically made a new post calling out racists in our community and tagged me and few other people (even other POC) who had disagreed with her about the cats. I didn’t respond, but fairly quickly that and the post from before were deleted.

I’ve been really trying to think about if my internalized racism did unknowingly influence my actions, but I honestly keep coming back to the fact that I think I would have said the same to anyone who tried to get a cat colony killed because her dogs try to attack them.

Also for those curious – the cat colony is still here! It turns out removing a cat colony from their home is actually considered animal cruelty and is illegal in this state

What are these acronyms?

[kmomof4]

The Arena A New Fic for CSSNS24

WE FINALLY MADE IT, Y'ALL!!!!! @cssns is here for the last time!!! And I am sooooo thrilled to be kicking off our final year!!! Before we get to the fic, I have to say a few words about the team of ladies that helped get this fic here for all of you to enjoy!!

First, to the other mods of the CSSNS - @winterbaby89 @stahlop @jrob64 and @ultraluckycatnd This event wouldn't be here without all of you and I cannot thank you enough for stepping up and helping me through this last round.

To @snowbellewells my magnificent beta for this fic - Marta, I cannot thank you enough for reading, rereading, and rereading AGAIN in order to make this fic the best it could be. Love you, my dear friend!!!

To @motherkatereloyshipper artist extraordinaire - Kit's artwork always leaves me with my jaw hanging open in AWE, and this one is no exception!! I could seriously stare at it for hours!!! Please give her all the love!!!! It's at the beginning of the fic under the cut.

And now to the fic! I so hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!!

Summary: The arena. 

A place of fear. Oppression. Blood. Death. 

A place of shattered hopes and dreams. 

A place, for a very lucky few, of hope. 

Words: Almost 3200

Rating: M for graphic violence

Tags: CSSNS24, Werewolves, True Love, Happy Ending

On ao3

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

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

The arena. 

A place of fear. Oppression. Blood. Death. 

A place of shattered hopes and dreams. 

A place, for a very lucky few, of hope. 

Killian Jones stood along the wall of the arena with his fellow fighters, his eyes trained on the opposite side of the stadium where the grand prize of the wretched and despicable contest he’d willingly signed up for was being held. The wretched and despicable contest that the despot Arthur had created for the entertainment of himself and his court, promising to the victor everything they could ever dream of - more money than they could imagine, a place in the upper echelons of society, land, and a beautiful bride on his arm. A bride that, in Killian’s fondest dreams, didn’t care he was missing a hand. But all of that was for the victor alone. There was no prize for coming in second, unless you counted death as a prize. 

And Killian did. 

Either everything he’d ever hoped for - but which was so far out of reach for a street rat like him - or bringing his miserable existence to an end. That was why he’d eagerly volunteered for the contest. That last sliver of hope his mother - gone for many years now - had instilled in him that his life circumstances had to get better, because they certainly couldn’t get worse, or the sweet oblivion of forever sleep.

He cut his eyes to the left for a moment, taking in his fellow competitors. He didn’t know any of them. The mates he’d trained with for the last year were long gone - scattered to the other corners of the empire to try their own luck in the arena. There were four other men here with him. The one immediately to his left barely looked to be a man at all, but he held a cunning and evil look in his eye that warned not to underestimate him. The man next to him was the largest of all of them with long curly black hair, bulging muscles, deep set dark eyes, and a closely trimmed black beard and goatee. The other two men on the other side of the large one, he’d only seen briefly as they were released into the arena. One was tall and skinny with blonde hair and a scar on his face that gave him a dangerous look, and the other had a mop of brown hair that flopped over his almost simian-looking visage and he held himself with an air of pretension and imperiousness. He’d fit right in with Arthur’s court. He’d probably been an upper house slave looking to be a master instead. 

Now, Killian’s attention was drawn back to the other side of the arena where two slaves were needed to get the young woman into the center of the sunken pit in which they were all held. She truly was a beauty, Killian could already tell, and a hellcat to boot. She wore nothing more than a torn and ragged gown that barely covered her most private parts and was nearly the same color as her skin and a thick silver bracelet on her wrist. Her golden hair was a nest of tangles but still glinted under the midday sun as she screamed and thrashed in their hold. Her legs alternately stuck out in front of her - her heels vainly attempting to anchor themselves into the soft ground - or dragged behind her in an effort to become deadweight and too heavy for the men to carry. When that wasn’t working, she kicked at her captors, clawing and biting every inch of bare skin she could reach.

They finally reached the center of the arena where they dropped her unceremoniously in the dirt. It took her a moment to rise to her hands and knees, then she raised her head and Killian could see her face for the first time. He caught his breath at the exquisiteness of her face, made all the more evident by the dirt and tear tracks which marred her otherwise porcelain skin. The color was high on her cheeks, and her lips were full and red. She wasn’t particularly far away from him, fifteen to twenty feet at most, but he couldn’t tell the color of her eyes from this distance and under the rays of the sun, although he could clearly see the glint of more unshed tears. 

Her gaze swept over the other men beside him before landing on him, and when their eyes met, something came over Killian that he hadn’t felt in over two decades- the wolf that he’d lost when he lost his hand as a lad. An utterly unfamiliar strength flooded him, and his ears rang with the internal howl of his other half as his heart and mind were filled with images of that fateful day.

Killian ran down the crowded streets of the marketplace, a dreadfully skinny boy, one hand holding up the too-large pants around his waist, lest they fall down around his ankles as he ran. His clothes were tattered and worn and hung off his scrawny frame. A boy on the cusp of manhood, his malnourishment was evident in his height, nearly as tall as a man, and the leanness of his face with the beginnings of scruff on his chin.

His eyes darted around the street, taking in the busy vendors with their customers and trying to determine who’d be least likely to notice a pilfered meat pie or a couple of pieces of fruit for himself and his mother. Spying a likely suspect, Killian never slowed as his hand shot out toward his prize. But the shopkeeper was much more aware than Killian had given him credit for, and before he knew it, his wrist was captured in an iron strong grip and he was being pulled behind the small booth.

Without a word, the hulking shopkeeper pulled out a cutlass and brought it down on Killian’s wrist. He was too shocked to even register the pain as he watched his blood gush from the end of his arm. Too mesmerized by the gruesome injury to do anything, he realized darkness was encroaching on the edges of his vision and the sound rushing in his ears was the agonized howl of his wolf - who had manifested only a scant six months ago - dying away to whimpers before everything went black.

It was nearly a week later that he’d woken, according to his mother. She hadn’t been far behind him as he ran through the market and had seen what the shopkeeper had done. She was too late to do anything about her son’s hand, but she’d made sure the shopkeeper would never be capable of such cruelty again. A small dagger coated with aconite from the Monkshood plant leaving a scratch across his wrist was all it took to sentence the man to death before the sun set that same day. She was the one who got him back to the hovel they called home, and nursed him around the clock until his fever broke and he finally awoke. He felt different - an emptiness he couldn’t define - but couldn’t put his finger on why until he looked down at his hands, now hand, and everything came rushing back. His shout of anguish brought his mother running, throwing aside the excuse of a room divider which consisted of a cord strung between two windows on either end of his straw pallet with clothes and rags hanging from it. She gathered him in her arms, whispering soothing words in his ear and rocking him back and forth like she did when he was a small child until his own cries quieted. 

Killian,” she breathed. He pulled back just enough to see her eyes and was shocked at the profound sadness he saw there. “I’m so sorry. Your wolf is gone.” She tried to gather him close again, but he pulled back in alarm instead.

“What?” he asked, confused. “Why!? Is that why I feel different? Not just my hand?”

“Losing a limb,” she imparted on a hitched breath, “kills the wolf inside of you. Until you find your True Love.”

“My True Love?” Killian’s confusion and grief were stronger than ever. “But what if I don’t have a True Love? What if…”

“You mustn’t give up hope, my son,” she said fervently. “You will find her someday, and your wolf will return.”

And today was apparently that day. Killian watched as her eyes widened slightly. He could only hope that she could somehow feel the connection between them. The hum of True Love that he didn’t have time to examine or revel in as Arthur rang the bell signaling the beginning of the contest - of which apparently his True Love was the prize. 

The other men along the wall moved toward her and then all turned to him, the depraved lust in their eyes as they looked at her turning into gleeful anticipation as their gazes settled on him. In that moment, Killian realized they’d somehow all agreed to band together to take him out first, obviously the weakest having only one hand with which to fight. Killian met each of their eyes in turn as they all drew their swords.

“It’s nothing personal, you know,” the tall, arrogant one said. “Can’t allow such an unsuitable, maimed cripple to claim my prize.”

The taunting words were all that was needed for Killian’s wolf to come to the fore. It had been twenty-two years since he’d transformed, but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember exactly what was happening. His own wicked but gleeful grin took over his face as the power of his wolf filled him and he fell to his hands and knees in front of them. The pain-filled howl taking over his mind ripped from his now open maw while the bones, muscles, and sinew in his arms and legs broke, tore, and mended again into their new form. The men before him were frozen in shock, and Killian became aware of an uproar above him among the spectators of the contest. Arthur rang the bell and screamed at the guards and slaves to kill the beast in the arena, but no one moved to do so.

Killian was fully focused on the men in front of him, but was also dimly aware of his True Love. She was still crouched on the ground, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. The transformation now complete, he let loose a full, ringing howl of victory as he leapt toward the largest of the men, still frozen in terror. His claws sank into the man’s chest, blood flowing like rivers down the expanse of bare skin. Killian clamped his jaws down on his head, his canines piercing bone, until with a powerful shake of his head, the skin of the man’s face and the bone underneath tore away from the skull, exposing the soft brain tissue contained within. The man’s screams were abruptly cut off when Killian swiped his claws from the gaping head wound to the top of his chest.

He then turned his attention to the two men on either side of his first victim. He quickly took care of the both of them - the first, ripping his head off with one swipe of his powerful paw, and the second, using all of his front claws to open his enemy’s chest cavity and gut, his intestines spilling to the ground in front of him - before he turned around looking for the one who’d taunted him in the first place.

The smugness was gone, but a look of grim determination had replaced it as the man, armed with only a sword, and wolf circled one another. The uproar among the audience had all but completely died away, the spectators watching in horrified fascination to see who would emerge the victor.

The man lunged and Killian backed up, well out of reach of the sword his opponent wielded. As they circled, Killian became fully aware of something that had only tickled the edge of his mind in the last several minutes as he faced off with the other men. He had both his front paws! Did that mean that his hand would also be restored when he returned to human form? He had no time to ponder the question as his adversary jabbed toward him again.

“Do you really think you can win?” he asked. His eyes gleamed, and the smugness that had disappeared after Killian killed the others was coloring his countenance once again. “You’re nothing but an animal. I’m going to kill you and skin you and hang your pelt on the wall where I can see it every single day for the rest of my life.”

Killian bared his teeth, a low and vicious growl coming from his throat before he surged forward briefly, snapping at the other man. Giving him a good look of exactly what he was up against. Fear flooded his adversary’s eyes, and the hand holding his sword in front of him began to shake uncontrollably. They continued to circle one another, but the man wasn’t paying attention to their surroundings and was nearing the bodies of two of their dead competitors. It was only a moment later when his foot came down squarely on the innards Killian had spilled earlier and flew out from under him, landing him flat on his back amid the blood and gore-covered ground.

Killian wasted no time. With a mighty leap, he landed on top of the man, his claws making ribbons of his enemy’s bare skin. He’d dropped his sword when he fell, and now reached for it as his screams filled Killian’s ears. Biting down on his upper arm, arterial blood sprayed his muzzle as he ripped it clean away from his shoulder. Killian slung the severed limb away before he turned back and tore the man’s throat out. The terror-filled and agonized screams turned to choking gurgles before they died away completely.

Killian looked up into the seats surrounding the arena. The masses were completely quiet and still, obviously not over the shock of what they’d just witnessed. When his gaze landed on Arthur’s, the despot’s eyes widened in panic, and he made haste to exit his elaborately decorated box. The rest of the audience followed the king’s lead, screaming and running for the exits. With another triumphant howl, Killian ran for the wall and cleared it with a single jump. He quickly caught up with the oppressive tyrant, leaping toward him and landing on his back, pushing him to the ground. He bit down on the exposed skin of his neck and was rewarded with another spray of blood signaling the end of the vile oppressor. 

The arena was now empty, save him and his True Love. He leapt back down to the ground and walked slowly towards her. She was crouched on the ground, her head hidden behind her arms, her golden hair shielding most of her body from view. He stopped, unwilling to terrify her even more than he already had, and changed back to his human form. He looked down and gasped when he saw his left hand completely restored.

He moved toward her again as she lifted her head and looked around at the empty arena.

“Where are your captors, milady?” he asked, gently.

“Gone, my lord,” she breathed. “Did you… what…?”

He unclasped the cloak he still wore from around his neck and spread it across her, covering her rags, though there was no one now to gawk or stare lustfully at her. She grabbed the edges and pulled it more fully around her as she rose to her feet, giving him a grateful nod.

“You’re him.” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper and was filled with an awe that Killian didn’t understand.

“I’m… who?” he asked, confused.

“You’re him,” she answered, a bit stronger that time. “My True Love.”

Killian couldn’t hope to hide his surprise at her words.

“Yes,” he exclaimed, excitement bubbling over into a beaming smile. “How did you know?”

“You were missing a hand before you transformed,” she explained, haltingly. She couldn’t hold his gaze for any length of time, her eyes bouncing between his and his restored hand that she gently took in her own, her other hand tracing the veins and bones there. “My parents told me before I was taken that if I ever lost a limb, I’d lose my wolf until I found my True Love.”

“You’re a wolf?” Killian almost fell to his knees in shock. He knew there had to be more out there like him, but he’d never met another. Not even his mother. Killian’s wolf came from his father, who’d died long before his own wolf manifested.

She nodded shyly and showed him her arm with the silver bracelet.

“That’s why they put this on me,” she explained. “To keep me from changing. Could you take it off? I can’t. But someone else can.”

“Of course.” He pulled the bracelet off and threw it to the other side of the arena. 

She frowned, and Killian thought he’d never seen anything more adorable in his life. “If they hadn’t forced me to wear it, I would’ve made short work of those two before they could get me two steps in here.” 

Killian smiled and gathered her in his arms, placing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “That’s my girl.” After holding her for a moment, relishing the feel of her arms around him and the True Love between them, he released her. “My name is Killian. Killian Jones.”

“My name is Emma. Emma Swan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma Swan.” 

She smiled softly and finally met his gaze. “You as well, Killian Jones.” 

She looked around before meeting his eyes once again. “So what now?” she asked. 

“I have no desire to stay here,” he muttered darkly. “Shall we run?”

Her face broke into a beautiful smile. “Yes, please. I haven’t been able to change for almost a year. Since they took me from my home.”

“I have no home,” he said, a note of melancholy in his words. He looked at his True Love again, his mate, and felt a bone deep contentment that he’d never known. “You’re my home now, Emma.”

“And you’re mine, Killian.” Her smile was full of joy as she got down on all fours before him. “Let’s run.”

He joined her on the ground and transformed. When he came back to himself, he saw a pure white wolf in front of him with eyes of green. She tilted her muzzle to the sky and released a long howl before running for the wall surrounding them. He joined her, his howl mixing with hers in a haunting melody that sent chills down his spine. He followed her over the wall and they ran, ran, and ran away from their past and into their future.

Together.

~*~*~

Thank you so much for reading and sharing!!! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought!!! Please give Kit all the love as well for her gorgeous artwork!!! The Supernatural Summer will continue with more fics and art dropping about every other day through the end of August, and I so hope you enjoy this last round!!!

[localfanbaselurker]

I’m watching Voltron: Legendary Defender for the first time and here is what I have had to say per each season (this is 1-2) (3-4) (5-6) (7) (8)

Pre-Watch Knowledge

->big transformers type robot

->pretty alien girl that looks like princess yue from A:tLA

->they are the epitome of color-coded characters

->space??

->there was crazy people in the fanbase that sent cupcakes laced with something to the creators

->queer baiting (this one in particular got me)

->klance.

->^honestly I only knew that because people were comparing it to zukka and I wanted to check it out

->my friend really likes it

Post S1 thoughts-

->that cliffhanger was crazy imagine they weren’t renewed for a s2

-> i went on tumblr after and youre telling me they made that show IN TWO YEARS?? EIGHT SEASONS. IN TWO MF YEARS?? that is insane. props to the writers bro they fr must of known what they were doing.

->all of these characters already scream “doomed by the narrative”

->my fav characters are pidge and lance

->I definitely did NOT expect yue Allura to be British

->bonding moment.

->^like yeah okay i get it now

-> the healing pods are a very interesting concept. Like, what if you get some ailment that it doesn’t recognize?? Do you just die??

-> genuinely felt so bad for Not Yue. Allura. Allura when they had to remove her father’s memory thing. Like yeah I know the castle was corrupted or wtv but bro imagine. Your entire race is dead. your mom, who you previously knew alive is now most likely dead. You already had to go through losing your father once, and now you have to lose him again. Any sliver of hope you had of staying connected with him is gone, because the entirety of his essence is now gone. She’s stronger than me, I would have never given him up so easily. I admire that about her.

->I also made the horrible mistake of going on ao3 after

yk for gits and shiggles… and when I go to a new fandom I always search by hits to see the classics first yk

…

WHY are you guys so 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂… I genuinely shed a tear what. I was flabbergasted to say the least.

On that note the top 23 were about redguy/blueguy getting smoochy-smoochy with each other so I guess that should be a hint as to what you guys like

->the description of the show says the robot (voltron) is operated by “five teenagers” but that shiro guy has to be AT LEAST 25. He is pushing 30 you can’t convince me otherwise.

->for now it’s kinda giving atla except the war is intergalactic and lasted 10,000 years instead of 100.

->all the other characters seem to have a pretty clear background, but we haven’t yet heard about Keith’s backstory, so I want to know (I know now, this was my initial thought)

->shiros backstory/ptsd is very interesting, lots of angst possibilities i see

-> I had an inkling that pidge was…genderly different. (At first I thought she was transmasc)

Post S2

-> WHERE is my man. Where did he go.

-> Pookie please come back. Now. It’s not a suggestion.

->KEITH BACKSTORY I PREDICTED THEY WERE GONNA SHOW US YAY I LOVE BEING RIGHT

-> he’s galra! Soooo much whump opportunity

-> the whole “Allura doesn’t hate you she’s just a little upset to find out ur part of the race that killed off her entire peoples and family and okay maybe she does hate you” scene with keith and hunk is really giving that scene in atla: the southern raiders where zuko thinks katara hates him and sokka reassures him (badly) while he was just trying to get laid w suki.

->^ that’s gay

-> the aliens they met are going to be very important, aren’t they?

->^ oohhh so this is where the “langst” stuff comes from? he’s just kinda insecure i think, but it can’t possibly just be this episode that has that tag so high, unless flanderization is just really popular with you guys, but already suspect that unfortunately

->^Allura high key ate with this

->the “Blade of Marmora” people are definitely gonna be important later

-> the mall episode was soooo fun! fav s2 episode for sure!

->^gay. It’s literally giving “two bros chillin in a hot tub. five feet apart cus they’re not gay”

-> I know of 2 ships now. klance and allurance. I only see the former though, the latter seems more like a running gag/unrequited crush thing (for now i suppose)

-> Coran is an icon. I love that whimsical man. he’s beekeeping age per say.

-> I need pidge to find her brother and father man I feel so bad for her PLEASE DOBT TELL ME THEYRE DEAD ILL LITERALLY DIE.

-> pidge is sooooo cool i love her so much she’s literally the pookiest of the pookies

-> Who tf is gonna be the black paladin now. Keith sure as hell isn’t ready for that. maybe Allura?? Cus yk she kinda already leads them a little bit

These are thoughts I had compiled over a while now. I am on S5E3 as of now (07/03/24) but I wanted to document my thoughts either way. I will post on the tag “laura’s first vld”

[personasintro]

FAQ

Since I’ve been getting same questions all the time, it’s probably for the best I finally made this post!

When do you update?

As it’s stated in my pinned post, I don’t have any schedule — therefore I update whenever I finish the whole process of writing (drafting, writing, editing).

I can’t see your pinned post. Why?

It’s most likely that you have to change your settings first to see mature content. I heard you can do that through browser since app doesn’t have that option yet. This link might be helpful, check it out!

What inspired you to write?

I’ve always had a close relationship with writing but it’s never been that serious. My proper first memory of writing something was when me and my friend wrote stories for each other haha. I decided to write and post my first fanfiction after I read a few of them. It inspired me to try it on my own and here I am. (A very short version hehe)

What’s your favorite story of yours?

It depends on the day, it changes almost every day haha so I guess we’ll never get a proper answer!

What inspired you to write Mutual Help?

I just wanted to write a fake dating au + Jungkook series. It somehow just came together! Nicely I hope hehe!

How many chapter is MH gonna have?

I don’t know unless it’s stated otherwise. It’s hard to give you an approximate amount of chapters. But I’ll inform you either in my author’s note or here under the tag ask: mutual help.

What ending it’s gonna have?

That’s something I don’t want to answer and reveal. I wish to reveal it in the story!

My asks weren’t answered. Why?

It might be the case of multiple reasons.

Tumblr might’ve ate your ask. It’s no secret that sometimes happens (unfortunately).

I don’t feel comfortable answering that particular message/question.

Your question has been just answered recently. I recommend checking tags for each story (ex. ask: mutual help, ask: monachopsis etc…). I understand not everyone wants to catch up with my asks, but please understand I can’t answer the same respective questions over and over again 🥺 I would do nothing else than just answering the same questions every day.

One of the reasons might be because I’m getting many asks daily & it’s impossible for me to answer them all. I really wish I could but unfortunately, that’s not possible 🥺 and for that I apologize! It came to that point where I have to be picky and choose what to answer and what not.

Have you ever wanted to be a professional writer? Is that your goal?

No! This is just a hobby for me 😊

Do you have any fics recommendations?

All my fics recs can be found under the tag “fic rec” 😇

[sawyer-is-eepy]

as a punk, its the least fucking punk thing to call someone a poser. what 90% of anti-endos want is for endos to stop calling themselves systems (its a medical term) and to get the fuck out of our spaces. calling yourself a system (short for system of alternate states of dissociation) when you dont have did/osdd is ablist. ablism is NOT punk. listen to actual fucking trauma survivors instead of circlejerking every other ablist around

hi, sorry, i've mostly got it okay but i don't have my glasses right now and can't see very well. trying to still type properly but it's a bit hard, so i'm sorry for any typos ! ^^

i get why anti endos are wanting a space thats exclusively for cdd systems, but terms can change and adapt and evolve(and they are!) the thing is, more and more research is being done on endogenic systems and a lot of said studies are referring to endos AS systems. medical studies and such!

plus, not trying to say you're lying or anything because i can't prove you wrong, but i'm, not even entirely sure system was ever ACTUALLY just exclusively for cdds because it's just that previousloy, there was no research on endos so maybe now that more stuff is coming out about them? but if you do have stuff about the original usage of the term i'd be glad to check it out! i

and about your spaces, again i do understand why youd want a space sepcifically for traumagen/disordered systems. but the thing is, a lot of times those spaces completely exclude a lot of traumagen systems ANYWAYS!! yall exclude proendo traumagen, and exclude traumagenic systems that aren't disordered! and because a lot of those spaces have become "haha funny lets just h\ate on endos and fakeclaim a ton of them!" and also putting "proendos dni" on a lot of your posts you exclude anyone who could benefit from resources and/or potential friendships, as well as fakeclaim "real" systems! you create spaces that are filled with hate and anger so people don't feel safe expressing themselves.

tumblr is usually better about fakeclaiming stuff from what i've seen, but literally everywhere else(ESPECIALLY reddit tiktok and yt) are all incredibly hostile toward endos, and often how that manifests itserlf is fakeclaiming literally any system, ever. INCLUDING traumagen ones.

my MAIN issue with anti endos is how yall want a safe space but your spaces are so filled with hate and you consistently bar yourself from actually ever receiving any criticism. you create echo chambers, basically

safe spaces are no5t places for people to post hate without having to get called out. safe places are not for you to go "there's no science to back endos!" and then ignore any attempts to share science behind endos by saying "youre invading our spaces! you broke the dni!"

youre right, ableism is VERY not punk! but you claim to protect trauma survivors when you ignore the proendo traumagens and the endos WITH trauma!! what about the endos who had to go through trauma and want to speak about their trauma but are silenced because its "sCiEnTiFiCaLlY ImPosSiBlE!111!!11" ? what about the traumagenic systems who just waant a space to be able to communicate with other trauma survivors but they arent listened to because they support something else???

you create hateful spaces, we're gonna call you out on that bullshit.

i'm sorry about the endos who invade other tags but i feel like this time it's at least a little justified.

edit: i can see slightly better now so i fixed some of the typing errors. sorry if i still missed any

[acewizardinspace]

@hyper-dorphin I am so sorry, but tumblr ate your ask. When I hit ‘save draft’ it vanished into the void.

I didn’t take a screenshot of the exact wording, but the ask basically said he liked my posts about Jay from Star Wars Visions V1 ep2, headcanoned Luke as a fan of the Star Wavers, and thought of the idea of Jay writing an album about jedi culture that he released after the fall of the empire.  

I am just happy to find another Jay fan! I honestly thought I was the only one to care about this minor character. He sparks so much joy in me, I am glad my posts were enjoyable to you too!

I am obsessed with the idea of Jay writing an album based on jedi culture. This is literally a galaxy brain idea. I can see it starting as a coping mechanism, a way of mourning and moving forward. He writes about everything that was lost, never really thinking he would be able to share it with anyone but his bandmates. But then the empire does fall, and all of a sudden he doesn’t need to hide his heritage anymore and he has the freedom to share his culture with the world, so he does. He puts it all out there so that the jedi can never be forgotten again.

I hadn’t even thought about Luke being a Star Waver fan, but you are so right. They are both from Tatooine so it totally makes sense. Imagine Luke saving up his allowance to buy their albums and merch, or sneaking out to go to concerts. What if Luke just felt so connected to this band in a way he can’t fully describe? And everyone is just like, ‘yeah, we get it you are a hyper fan,’ but no, their music really makes him feel something. He doesn’t figure out quite what till years later, but he knows they are connected somehow.

So, I made a post about how Jay could kind of end up helping the rebellion here.

This just makes me think though, imagine Luke, chilling, listing to his favorite band and Leia casually says, “Oh, I know them.” Luke thinks she meet the band at an event or something because she was a princess but no, she says she knew them through the rebellion. Imagine finding out your favorite band does undercover work to help overthrow the empire. That would be like discovering, say, Harry Styles, is a spy. Luke will never be the same after that revelation.

Ohhh and imagine Jay showing up at Luke’s new jedi temple. Weather he decides to become a jedi again or not (I like both versions) he would totally want to visit at least. From Luke’s POV though this would be like the Beyoncé meme. He is just trying to restart a school when a famous rock star shows up and compliments his work. Luke is like:

You can find my Jay tag here.

[ancha-aus]

Masterpost

Welcome to my new Masterpost! This time including all information on everything on my tumblr instead of just one AU! Asks are always open and I am happy to answer questions <3

Tumblrsona has been made. The icon is still being made :3 The amazing @a-whispering-echo also made a drawing of her <3

AO3 account over here

AUs and stuff.

Ancients and Champions AU - Masterpost Here The big one! My main one! Story is finished and readable over here

Careful. It is a long story with many sidestories. All in the story tab <3 All the information I got concerning that AU is over in the masterpost <3

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Real Age Au - First prompt and start of story Here This one doesn't have a masterpost. It is a drabble series I only upload on my tumblr as it are all first drafts and not always uploaded in order.

Drabble which doesn't have a plave quite yet in when it happens in the timeline.

Summary: Nightmare gets deaged, or better said, reversed aged towards his real age. Six years old. Join him and his gang as they discover how to deal with it and learn to be a family.

My own doodle for this work over here <3

@spotaus has made amazing fanart and a sweet fic in line with the AU.

@mikimakiboo as also made some sweet fanart here and here as well as fanfics over here and here

@driftinbubbles Has also made a very cute drawing!

@rendoa-blog Made some amazing drawings! [X] , [X]

The tag is RealAgeAU <3

The drabble series is completed but I will be editing it to post on my AO3 but that is a background project haha

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Bitty Surpise - An idea and very lose concept because I had bitty brainrot. A story in the works and I may eventually upload or draw more of. Very little aside from a doodle at the moment.

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Ghosts & Medium AU - Technically a collab because @mikimakiboo helped abunch wiht some of the backgrounds :D - Dust is a medium who helps spirits moves on as his job. trouble appears when he meets spirit!Killer. First message in reblog train & ask & general roles of everyone. And people made some doodles, here and here! Link and Link in the same thread. Another trhread over here, here, here, and here - About Dust. - About Killer. - About Cross. - About Nightmare.

Drabble: First Encounter - Killer and Dust meet (and the part 2 of that little drabble)

Drabble: Exorcism Backfire - Cross joins the party. Very unwilling mind you.

Drabble: The Necromancing Medium - Dust and Ash's backstory - 18+ because it is heavy on trauma and heavy subjects. Please mind the warnings.

Drabble: Sleepover - Dust, Ash, Killer and Cross get to Dust's apartment to relax and regroup. Mostly to sleep.

Drabble: Research - Dust gets some work donw to make some progress. Eventually.

Drabble: Moon Ritual - Dust summons a new creature to hopefully fix the situation with Cross and Killer.

Drabble: Mansion Invasion - Dust and the gang goes to clear out an incubus and succubus infestion. What can go wrong?

Drabble: Slow Morning - Dust wakes up and gets ready to do some chores only to come across a surprise that makes his morning much better.

@mikimakiboo wrote a great story about the introduction of Horror to the group! Which i am sneakily accepted as canon so check it out!

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DoubleNoot (name pending) - Turns out that Nightmare that the multiverse knew, was not just Nightmare. Instead it were two beings. Corrupt, the being everyone knew. and Nightmare. The same young skeleton from before he ate the apple that changed the course of the multiverse.

And now they are split? It changes their lives as well.

First Drabble here!

Idea for a possible story/series. Posts are here, here and here.

@mikimakiboo once again made an amazing drabble with the idea! and it is amazing!

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Sans in Wonderland - A possible project idea that would be an interactive ish story with different endings. original message/concept here.

Nightmare backstory.

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SansNautica - Sans crashlanded in subnautica and is trying to escpae the planet but gets sidetracked and distracted by a bunch of very interesting looking mers.

idea for it. [X]

info on issues for sans to encounter. [X] , [X]

The gang and mers. [X]

Crash location. [X]

Sans is a pacifist and cares about the environment. [X]

Time Capsules and how I may use them. [X]

For in the Below Zero section that Undyne coudl have been from the Degasi crew [X]

Pre-story. How Cross ended up with the gang. (Dream focus ironically) [X]

Drabble for Cross meeting Sans. [X]

Drabble for the gang meeting Sans. [X]

Drabble of Killer and Sans vs reaper Leviathans [X]

@0p1er0 was REAL nice and made a sketch of Cuddlefish Cross adn the finished Cross <3 and good boy Stalker Dust. (X) :D

@sunnybunnybabs made some drawings of nightmare and dream! and the other levi's!<3 and the shiver of good boys :D and of Sans after he adapted <3 and the Snow Stalkers Selkies <3

@rendoa-blog made a drawing as well [X] and some of Sans [X] , [X] and they wrote a drabble for me! [X]

@librarypersonsworld also made a drawing! [X]

ask about Sans adapting to water. [X]

How the shiver and Nightmare met [X] @mikimakiboo wrote a oneshot for their meeting <3 [X]

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Spirit Soul AU - A fic idea I had with info here and here An AU idea I had which is inspired by both Omori and Life is Strange

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Little story for @somegrumpynerd and their amazing comics where Dream and Nightmare get body switched <3

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Little drabble for @spotaus because they made their own version of RealAgeAU but wiht knights <3 Another drabble over here <3 And another one! <3 One more hihi. ANOTHER! I honestly don't know why any of you think i have any kind of selfcontrol at this point. [X] , [X] , [X], [X] , [X] , [X] , [X]

.

That was the stuff I have actual posts about that I can share. Overall progress on other things below:

Ancients and Champions - 100% writen. 100% edited. Fully uploaded.

Mermaid prompt list 2022 - 100% writen. 95% edited. Uploads ever Sunday on my AO3

Bitty surprise (name pending) - 100% writen. 25% edited. Needs to be finished (also needs another drawing of Horror Bitty)

Family Ties - 30% writen (ish?). 20% edited. General storyline in my head, just need to actually write the thing

Real Age AU - 100% writen. 0% edit (No edit or beta we die like men with this one) No real goal and just a fun drabble series <3

Story ideas that seem fun to me/ stuff i am thinking about writing:

UT Zombie apocalyse story.

Background story on Error and Geno and their time growing up - A&C related

Story on what would happen to the multiverse if there was NO negativity, the consequences to an only positive multi-universe

another mermaid story but pairing focus dustXsans

story where all the sanses are just actors and they do a series together (no idea how i would make this work in writing gonna be real with you)

Classic Dust ship story where Dust finds the original timeline and hangs around and watches Sans (I can't find my own original post with the idea anymore. It is lost to the void.)

That is all for now folks!

Edited 26 Januari.

[bangpop91]

Alright, since Tumblr ate this right when I clicked post let's try this again.

rules: you will be given a word. then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word!

I was tagged by the incredibly talented @cliophilyra I am using my story Evan, Fair for this challenge. My word is RIVER.

R: River and Olivia are dancing g not far from Evan and Pearce, River watching with a distrustful glare as Pearce flirts with someone who is not his younger sister.

I: In a twist of horrific fate, Pat and Susan McAllister are standing across the dance floor with his Mother watching Pearce dance with Evan, looking horrified and angry.

V: Evan returns from Paris on a random Tuesday, not expecting fan fair or accolades.

I had to cheat for this one because I don't have a single sentence written that starts with the letter v.

E: "Evan?" His ears are ringing with embarrassment, even as his ears turn red and Pearce, the man he has loved all his life, says his name with awe and wonderment.

R: Relief floods through Tommy's body, as sick and twisted as it was, because the crunching of glass means Pearce won't be meeting Evan in the Solarium tonight.

Tagging: @weewookinard @girlwonder-writes @racerchix21 @rdng1230 @aplaceinme

And @lavenderleahy @typicalopposite @herrmannhalsteadproduction @nine-one-wanton @desert--moonchild

Your word is: GHOST

[snippychicke]

Legend of the Selkie and the Pirate --Two--

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen/mature (we have non-graphic nudity stated)

Pairing: Buggy/Selkie!Reader

Warnings: None except heartbreak?

Summary: Even in a world of monsters, devil fruits, pirates, and fishmen, selkies were considered a myth. Especially in the East Blue where the waters were too warm for seals to live anyways. 

Except that myths were always seeded with truths, and stories always had a habit of coming to life. 

Tagging: @tfamidoingwithmylife; @yellowbbear ; @skullr0se; @chiyo-juice

Masterlist|Ao3

(psst, if you're a long time reader of mine and noticed that I had posted part one without dramatic use of italicized words... that was because tumblr ate my formatting. It is fixed now along with a few spelling/grammar corrections.)

Prompt:  Something/Someone missing

The joy of a large trove of treasure disappeared as Buggy watched the seal slip beneath the railing and over the edge. Without thinking, he called out your name as he raced to the edge, just to watch you gracefully disappear beneath the choppy waves. He was somewhat aware of the rest of the crew torn from the treasure, but was frozen as he watched the water. Hoping--Praying-- that you'd break the surface. That you would reappear--either human or seal-- and he could pluck you up once more despite the earlier ocean spray on his hands had already made them painful and weak. 

He'd do it again. And again and again. 

If you would just reappear. 

"Not even a goodbye," Mohji whined eventually. "Richie is going to be so heartbroken." 

Who the fuck cared about the lion? He was heartbroken. The necklace he had in his fist--the one he was about to insist you try when he had first turned around-- cut into his hand as he clenched his fist. 

Why? What did your family or kind or whatever have that he couldn't provide you? Were any them as flashy as he was? Making you constantly smile and laugh? Did any of them take you and accept you as easily as his crew had? 

Did any of them love you like he did? 

Or was it his one flaw? His one weakness? That he couldn't swim. That the ocean hated him for fucking accidentally eating that damn fruit. 

That damn Shanks. If he ever saw him again, he would rip his throat out. 

(Don't let it be his nose. It couldn't be his nose, right? You said it was fine, and he didn't think you were lying.) 

"Cap'n?" Mohji asked, breaking Buggy from his thoughts.

The crew was looking towards him, which he usually didn't mind. Except there was pity in their eyes. As if they could tell--as if they knew--how he felt. 

"What are you freaks looking at?!" He shouted with a manic grin. "We just hit the jackpot! It's time to celebrate!" 

The cheers were less than heartfelt, but Buggy let it slide. This once. 

--

Granted, later that night, while the crew was sleeping off draining half the beer they had on board, Buggy made his way to the small room you had claimed. 

You had been with them for just a few short months, and yet you had made the tiny room your own. Hammock full of blankets and pillows stolen from who knew where. A chest brimming with clothes donated by the crew. A vanity with a cracked mirror, yet you.hadn't seemed to mind. You had placed shiny rocks and shells in the canister meant to hold makeup and brushes.  

He took the necklace he had kept in his pocket and put itt in the main drawer, next to the hairbrush (your hair mixed with a few of his since it had been a spare he had found in his own room). He knew he was being foolish, but he held on to the sliver of hope you'd be back. That you would look at his gift with delight and grin happily at him. That the sparkling gems would look as beautiful as he imagined against your skin. 

And, well, if he happened to fall into your hammock, pulling your pillow close to his chest, it was merely because he drank too much. But in the moment, he knew the truth as the sway of the ship rocked him into an uneasy sleep. 

He missed you. 

Prompt: Forgetfulness 

You had forgotten how lonely the sea was. 

As the sun set and everything became dark, you pulled yourself up to an outcropping of rocks before shifting and looking to the stars. Except the sky was clouded, obscuring everything. 

The night would have been silent if not for the sound of water splashing against the rock and your legs. It was impossible to tell where the sea and sky separated--all that you could see was inky blackness. As if you had somehow appeared into an abyss. 

You shivered, but you weren't cold. You still pulled your fur tighter as you continued to shake, chest becoming painfully tight. 

You wanted to be on the pirate ship right now. You wanted to hear the rumble of snores of the crew. The soft boot steps of those taking watch. The soft glow of the lamps and candles. 

Buggy finding you and ending the lonely night often brought alongside insomnia. It had become a little routine, making you wonder what made it so hard for him to sleep at night. 

You never asked. 

Finally the tightness erupted into a scream, hot tears stinging your eyes. 

You had forgotten what true loneliness was like.

You forgot the heartache of missing those dear to you.

Your heart wasn't sure it even knew where 'home' was. The arctic where your pod was. Where your parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, were.

Or a ship where you were surrounded by people so unlike but had wormed their way into your heart nonetheless. 

(Or maybe where a blue haired pirate grinned at you with bright eyes and a red nose. Like you were the most amazing thing he had ever seen.)

Prompt: Unexpected 

"We're going to the Grand Line!" 

The crew of freaks stared at their captain in confusion. When he had called them together, this was not what they expected his announcement to be. In fact, no one had cared to even place bets considering they all believed it to be the same. 

To go after you. 

"The… Grand Line, Captain?" Mohji was brave enough to ask, clearly as confused as everyone else despite the fact he was technically Buggy's second in command. 

Thankfully, Buggy grinned at the white curly-haired man. Though there was a hint of mania yet again to his blue eyes. "You heard me. We've pittered about the East Blue for long enough, it's time to go after the grand prize--the One Piece!"

"Don't we need a map for the Grand Line?"

"Does the One piece actually exist?

"Well, rumor has it Buggy was on Rogers ship. So if he thinks it does, then it must, right?" 

Buggy wasn't too concerned about the talk amongst the crew, that was to be expected. After all, it was a big change. 

But then…

"What about our selkie that jumped shipped?" Mohji asked, and everyone quickly grew silent, looking towards the captain expectedly. 

Buggy felt his eye twitch as he gritted teeth behind his smile. 

Waking up in your hammock had made the truth hit him like a sledgehammer. You were gone. You chose to leave, without so much as a goodbye.

 Escaping to the one place he couldn't follow. 

"Our little seal made her choice," he said, turning to his first mate with murder in his eyes. "And I don't want to hear another word about it." 

Because his heart was bruised enough as it was. 

He wasn't going to chase after someone who didn't want him. (Just like everyone else in his life he had cared for. He had opened his heart to you, only for you to devour what little had remained before jumping overboard.)

Prompt: Undone

"Well, she's rather special. I mean, can you blame him?"

"Hmph. Captain Buggy has made it a point to build a crew of people that don't fit in. We're his band of freaks. But at least we're human. Or fishperson. The bitch is as useful as a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest. I mean, she had to be taught how to wash dishes." 

"Either she sharpens up, or the Captain will realize how useless she is and send her overboard too."  

The words still echoed in your head despite it being weeks since they were spoken. The conversation you weren't meant to hear but did. The one that made you realize you didn't belong among the land-kind. 

That you weren't meant to be one of Buggy's crew. That the chore girl position you had been given was just to keep you entertained and out from under others feet.

Oh sure, many of the crew acted like they enjoyed you being there-- especially Buggy himself-- but not all of them were such great actors. The scoffs. the sneers. 

Some things were universal no matter what. 

The cry of a seagull roused you from the half-sleep. You groaned when you realized the sun had moved, meaning you were no longer in the shade of the towering cliffs but in the hot sun. 

You grabbed your fur and moved into the new shaded area. Hoping to get a little more sleep before the sunset and you could resume your attempt at finding home.

Goddamn tropics being so hot. It was way too warm to try and swim during the day, so you resorted to trying to sleep while the sun bore down. Yet always alert for any land-kind, so sleep was a relative term.

But at least there were plentiful fish in the waters. 

Yet… your time on the pirate ship had spoiled you. All that different food.

Baked.

Roasted.

Toasted.

Fried. 

And the fruit. The cool and sweet juices from biting into one busting into your mouth. Sometimes too much and escaping the corners of your lips. 

Buggy laughed as you tried hard to catch the juice with your hands. He eventually reached over and wiped some you didn't notice from your chin and made a show of licking it from his glove. "Juicy little thing, aren't you?" 

"I-it was," you agreed, trying to reign in your impulses that you didn't realize what he truly said.

How were you supposed to enjoy going back to eating merely to survive after that? (Were you ever going to get him out of your head?) 

You continued to try and sleep, ignoring the pain any dreams brought once you woke. 

Prompt: Eyes 

For being stuck in a sack, bodiless, and more or less prisoner of Arlong, everything had been going fine. Listening to Luffy's antics was always entertaining. The boy was so clueless and full of optimism that it was almost unbelievable at times. As well as rather annoying, considering how the rubber-cursed teen and his tiny crew had beaten him 

What was wrong with this kid? 

Maybe the Gum-Gum fruit had done something to his brain too. 

Okay, things were massively sucking for Buggy right now, but he held out hope. He had escaped worse situations. Yes his body was too far away for him to literally pull himself together. But after they tracked down the Straw hat, Arlong said he'd let him go. 

Granted, Arlong was the kind of pirate to lie straight to your face, but all Buggy had at this point was hope. 

And then he heard you. He knew wherever his body was it jerked, instinct to whip around to look for you before he remembered his ear was miles away at the Baratie restaurant hidden in Luffy's cap. 

What the fuck were you doing there. 

He wiggled his ear slightly in hopes things weren't so muffled. As angry and hurt as he still was, there was no denying that he was desperate to hear your voice clearly. 

He wanted to see you. Touch you. Talk to you. (Demand to know why you had left him the way you did. Hadn't any of the time you spent with them, with him, meant enough for at least a goodbye?)

"--I'm lost," you admitted slowly, sounding as cautious as when you first boarded his ship. Back when you didn't know who to trust and expected someone to do something. "I'm trying to head north, but--"

He silently groaned, rolling his eyes, the Baratie was south of the Deadman Stacks. No wonder you ended up in the East Blue. You were absolutely clueless when it came to directions, weren't you?

(He could have helped. If you had just asked. If you had just waited another minute.) 

"Where's home?" Luffy asked, full of innocent optimism that set Buggy's teeth on edge. 

You wouldn't. You wouldn't dare accept help from the brat after leaving him. Right? There was nothing that kid had that he didn't. (Except a normal nose-- no. You didn't care about his nose.)

"North?" You answered awkwardly, and Buggy wasn't sure if you were avoiding the question, or if you really didn't know. 

"Like, Shells town? Syrup Village?"

"Um… further… north?"

You… didn't know. At least, none of their names for places. And you didn't trust them enough to divulge that truth. His innocent little lamb lost at sea for how many months now? He didn't think his heart could stand another knife in it. 

"I mean, Cozia is the northernmost isle of the East Blue I know," A new voice peeped in. One of the waitstaff if he recalled right. Sangria? Sojo? Something like that. It didn't matter, not really. 

"That sounds… kinda familiar?" You answered, though your voice was tinged with obvious doubt. You were such a horrible liar. (Which only confused him more, because he had thought you at least liked him. Yet you ran away. Why?)

"Don't worry, my cherie, you rest and eat your fill. We'll find a way to get a beautiful woman such as yourself home." The waitstaff flirted, making Buggy grit his teeth as he tried to keep his snarl silent, well aware that Along's crew was probably listening. 

Hell no. No suave fucking waiter was going to try and steal you from him. (Completely ignoring the fact you obviously weren't his to be stolen.) 

Wait. 

Shit. Fuck. 

Arlong was heading for the Baratie. Where you were. 

And as happy as he was to find you, for the chance to just see you again, there was no mistaking the fear rolling in his gut even if he wasn't attached to his body. 

What if you got caught up in the inevitable fight? You could defend yourself, but against Arlong's crew? One Selkie against three fishman that were stronger than himself? 

What if Arlong decided he wanted you as a trophy? What if he took your fur from you again? Unlike Buggy, Arlong was known to hold people captive for long periods of time, doing as he pleased. (Buggy held on to the fact he wasn't that bad since he only gave the towns and villages a mandatory free show for a few nights and before he'd leave and allow them to rebuild their boring little lives.) 

And all Buggy could do was watch. A bodiless head, unable to do anything but watch. Listen. Maybe beg but he already knew any pleading would fall on deaf ears. 

Prompt: Crowds

You had impulsively followed the smell of food, sick of fish, and ended up giving a few humans--Luffy and Sanji-- heart attacks when you pulled yourself halfway onto the deck asking for food. 

And well, you had gotten what you had asked for that ruined your usual diet even more because it tasted divine. But as you ate, the two had been full of questions and one thing led to another and… 

They wanted to help you. Apparently their navigator might know more about where you were heading. 

Except chaos erupted before you could even meet their navigator. Maybe it was because you were surrounded by too many humans, but you felt exposed. Overstimulated. The constant chatter of the patrons. The clinks of silverware against plates. 

The animalistic part of your brain finally won out, and you ran yet again. There was a storm on the horizon and you didn't want to be caught in the middle of it. 

You didn't care which way you were going, you jumped into the water and dived deep and fast, allowing your body to follow the urge to run and hide. 

~*~

You weren't at Baratie. 

Hours later as Buggy helped the Straw Hat idiots navigate.to Arlong Park, the mantra repeated itself in his head. You weren't there. You hadn't been amongst the crowd of diners that Arlong threatened. You weren't part of Lyffy's little crew. 

Buggy was relieved. Angry. Devastated. Thankful. 

Oh, you had been there. Your voice hadn't been a figment of his deranged imagination. But apparently between Mihawk's attack and Arlong’s arrival, you had slipped off into the night without so much as a word. (Which did help a little. Especially as Sanji mourned the fact two 'lovely ladies' had disappeared on him without so much as a goodbye.)

"Wait, you knew her?" Luffy asked after Buggy not-so-subtly asked if they had seen a curvy gal in a seal-skin coat. 

Buggy grinned, though he felt an eye twitch. "You could say that.  But I mean, what man really knows a woman, am I right?" 

"She's running away from you, isn't she?" Zoro guessed-- making Buggy grit his teeth. 

God, if he had his body right now he would have decked the grass-haired man. Right in the swordsman's chest wounds. (See how he liked a knife in the heart.)

"That would imply I actually gave a shit about what she's up to." Okay. He couldn't lie to himself. He did. Hearing you were still so lost had taken the edge off his anger. He was still mad, but it was tempered with worry now. "She's merely an old acquaintance and I was surprised to hear her voice is all. She doesn't like hanging around crowds." 

"She was a jumpy little rabbit," Sanji agreed with a dreamy hint to his voice. Okay, forget the dramatic samurai-wanna be, Buggy was going to slaughter the chef. "I should have offered to protect her. To keep her safe from whatever frightened her." 

That madeBuggy laugh. "That is a riot. Friend, buddy, pal, let me tell you a little secret. Those sharp teeth aren't for decoration. I've seen her kill half a dozen men in just a few minutes with those chompers of hers alone. She'll bite your hand off if it wanders a bit too much-- and I do mean literally." 

And yet… you were still an innocent little lamb he felt compelled to protect as well.

Or maybe just stand back and watch you protect yourself, clapping and cheering the same way you did during one of his performances. 

But the fact.remained, you had left him. You did not want him or his crew. 

 He was in the midst of his body being kidnapped and sailing into the territory of one of the most vicious pirates of the East Blue with a ragtag bunch of idiots. That should be what took precedence in his mind. 

Not you. (Yet it was.)

[nurgletwh]

Hey all! You’re about to see why this got so delayed when Tumblr ate my post. >.<

Remember how I’ve previously stated “I disappeared because I had issues, but no worries!”?

Yeah.

Not so much this time. Which has only sunk in with retrospect and time. (@grumpyoldsnake is gonna be “I told you so!!!)

It still doesn’t really feel that way, because the human mind is stupendous at deemphasizing how much danger you might really be in/were in.

Some of this might be covering ground I’ve already covered here or elsewhere. However, I think having it all in one place and all sequenced together will not only help me keep things straight but give it all perspective.

With that out of the way, let’s see if I can not only keep this all the fuck straight but remember what ground I need to cover. I’m putting the rest under a cut for a couple of reasons. It’s long, and it may be triggering for some people. Please let me know if I’ve missed a tag I should have added.

October 2023

I went back to the Dr. to get my medications adjusted, as my blood sugar had gone back up. (Side note: I hadn’t been properly and regularly testing my blood sugar. I was exhausted and sleeping what felt like all the time with no energy to do much of anything at all.) For whatever reason, my blood pressure comes back rather shockingly high (164/108!!), not in line with what it’s been at all. I comment that I’ve never seen it that high, and the nurse says to have the doctor check it after I’ve been there a while.

It doesn’t happen because I’m forgetful.

My cholesterol also comes back high, but that’s been creeping up for years, so no shocker there.

Diabetes medications are adjusted, one is added for the cholesterol. By the time I get home, there’s another one for my blood pressure. I shrug and add it to my pile, since my blood pressure had never come down as far as I thought it should in the first place.

November 2023

Back for a follow-up appointment. My sugar levels haven’t changed all that much, and my blood pressure still comes back as pretty damn high, and I make a mental note to test it at home more regularly, because it doesn’t seem right.

Warning: diet talk.

———

We talk about stuff and whatnot, and decide to try Ozempic (as its original purpose was for diabetes) as the next step to get my blood sugar down.

I was aggravated as he goes on about things like how I’ll feel better for losing some weight, and I half-assed express a few concerns because I have disorganized eating habits. I already don’t eat consistently, and I firmly believe my current weight “problems” are due to my disorganized eating patterns (as well as picky eating and just not really wanting to eat in general) in my youth leaving me borderline malnourished. Most of my teen years were spent trying to get me to gain weight. FYI: being significantly underweight for a long time is a great way to have issues with being overweight later.

I go home with a prescription for Ozempic. Fine and dandy, although I’ve been getting the impression he doesn’t really listen all the time.

———

December 2023

Christmas happens, travel happens, fun happens.

January 2024

Cute cat pic, just because. :-)

Next appointment. My blood pressure still reads significantly higher than normal (156/92), and higher than it has been at home, but what with travel and all, I haven’t really been testing it to back up that assertion. The doctor tests it and gets approximately the same result.

I get another prescription for an additional blood pressure medication.

(Can you guess where this one is going?)

I woke up a few days later with a massive headache that wouldn’t go away. I didn’t connect this at the time, but based on what happened next, I think it was.

The day after that I felt a bit dizzy. When I wasn’t feeling much better by lunch, I took my blood pressure and got 94/68. I took it again and got about the same thing, so I had my coworker (who is also a volunteer EMT) test it. He got 100/54. I continued to check it throughout the day, but it wouldn’t stay consistent. I bugged out of work early, finally sending a… well, grouchy message to the doctor (after hours, unfortunately) firmly expressing my frustration that I wasn’t believed when I stated my at-home readings, pointing out I am also an EMT.

My reading was 96/74 when I went to bed.

I felt even shittier the next day. BP was 94/62 that morning; I stayed home from work. The doctor responded to my message when the office opened, discontinuing the most recently added BP med, sanctioning the choice I’d already made. :-P

Unfortunately, my BP continued to plummet throughout the afternoon and evening. I sent a message that evening and asked what to do, continuing my pattern of sending messages after the office closed. 🙄

I took my blood pressure using my automated cuff before going to bed. It errored out twice before I got this:

Lovely, eh?

(The systolic generally reads 8-10 low, but the diastolic is generally bang on.)

I took it manually; 80/54. I send a follow-up message with those readings.

I felt awful the next morning. The act of sitting up made me dizzy. I stumbled out to the living room and called in to work again; I was in no condition to drive. My heart rate was elevated to around 100-110 (it normally runs fast, about 80-90 in the morning).

By late morning, the automatic cuff wouldn’t do anything but error out. I sent another message asking at what point I should go to the ER. I didn’t get a response from the doctor, but did from one of the nurses, who told me that anything under 90 systolic with symptoms qualified.

What. The. FUCK.

I basically decided that if it got worse, I’d go in. I told a friend to check in with me regularly and stayed in my recliner, drinking water and Gatorade to at least get fluid in.

The lowest reading I got on my manual cuff was 78/52. FYI: I should have been in the hospital the day before. This is “almost died” moment number 1. I was a fucking idiot. Denial is deadly.

——

I think this needs split up; I’m gonna post this now and keep writing, because I’m going to hit some sort of character limit sooner or later. O.o

[raining-tulips]

hi! i just found your blog :) love your commonplace book scans! if you don’t mind me asking, could you give a more in-depth explanation of what commonplacing is exactly and what your process is? i’m intrigued and considering getting into it but i wouldn’t even know where to start! thanks a lot xx

Absolutely! So my commonplace is specifically all movies, qoutes, articles, tumblr/Instagram posts, book excerpts, etc. that either resonated with me or I think I'll want to reference later. That is the heart of what common placing is - saving things for later physically rather than digitally.

Some of these just pop up in my feed, and I'll hit the like or save button. If it's an article, it usually first pops up as a preview on my Instagram and I'll open the full article on my desktop than bookmark it in a specific folder for common placing.

Sometimes, when I want to actively find something out (say, about if perfume is really bad for the environment, or I want to look at author interviews because I just loved a book) I will go out and search for that information.

Then, usually once a week I compile everything I'd like to print - i print the sources bc my handwriting is messy - into a word document formatted for two columns. I try and hold off printing until i have a full page worth, or two full page worth.

For images, I have another word document (these are printed in color, and i usually have to jigsaw to fit as many images on the page as possible, so different word document). Same thing, I try and wait until I have a full page to print. Usually x2 a month. I sometimes will print with an HP sprocket but the quality is really bad and the pictures are thick so, it's for when I'm out of printer ink or I think a photo will look okay with a sorta...uneven look.

I use just a Staples brand journal, TruRed. Cheap and easy. I draw a line at the top so I can write the date, and in the future if I want to tag it with a colored sticker or something, I can. My layouts usually include divided space on either the left or right of a page. The article goes in the bigger open space, and then the source (always write your source!!) and any commentary goes in the smaller margins.

Commentary is usually why I wanted to print it, what it reminds me of or makes me think about, etc. What I think the argument was missing, etc. Can be as little or as much as you like. As emotional and deep or as plain-jane as you like. There are no rules!

I trim printed text and images with a 12 inch trimmer bc I've got wobbly hands, but some people just use a little (blanking on the name) exacto knife? Any 12 inch trimmer will do mine is expensive but I also scrapbook so I use it all the time.

I paste things in using a tape runner (again, because I scrapbook and found a tape runner and my mom sells scrapbook supplies they're very accessible to me). Some people use tape, washi tape, glue sticks (liquid glue I've never seen).

And yeah, then I just decorate and play around. It doesn't have to be pretty. It can be really pretty if you want - I'm motivated by aesthetics, so, I like mine to be a little pretty.

If you'd like to see how I actually put it together and why I print certain things, my YouTube channel is the place to go.

Some people tape in movie tickets, receipts from where they shopped or ate, pictures from daily life. Some people mix common-placing and journaling, so including diary entries about their day or about a topic they love, or their thoughts and feelings (I keep mine in a separate journal, explained in this video). Some people mix common-placing with bullet journal or planning. Some combine all three!

At the end I just use a printer scanner (HP Envy 5500, cheap) and post them online that way bc I love the look.

People who have other styles you might try and look at are @petite-gloom (an OG who inspired me and many others) @fakelavender , @teddybearsticker .

[erineas]

Hi there! Hope you don't mind but I'm just wondering if you have any recs for fanfics of the skellies :D I typically love reverse harem trope ones racoonsinqueen & tyranttortoise my absolute favs but if you know any that are just one main pairing but the writing is still good, I'd love to know :D

OK, EVERYONE STOP THEIR HORSES, because it's fanfic appreciation time ✨

I've read my fair share of fanfics, most aren't finished or their authors disappeared but I'll mention them too because they still very much worth it and I. Just. Love. Themmmm!

Also I'll try listing by memory so this is probably going to be messy:

Bitty Hunt by RND_Injustice (SSLL but you're a bitty! Unfinished, has 33 chapters + 18 bonus chapters in here. 10/10 Already read it three times) My Favorite Red Scarf by RND_Injustice (Reader x UT Papyrus. Unfinished, has 34 chapters. MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE. 100/10 I want to marathon this fic with someone, if that makes sense) Fur a good time, Call by popatochisp (Reader x HT Sans. Finished, with extra chapters on Snips & Snails. Another favorite with a 100/10. Also want to marathon this one) Dirty Laundry by popatochisp (Reader x Swapfell bros. Finished. To be honest I don't remember much, that's why it's in my rereading list but it promise very good things and the feelings I get just reading bits are like-- kdjkdjkdj my heart!) On top of the Bone Pile by Lyrjok (Reverse Harem. Finished. Good writing, SSLL vibes but totally different and really good. 10/10. Rereading right now) A Mouse Among Skeletons by Duchess_Aquarius (Reverse Harem with more skeletons than the main 5 AUs. Kinda crazy, rlly, but I still ate it. Finished. Be sure to read the tags. Rlly good writing. You decide how good it is) Bones, Picked Clean by lulu-writes (Reverse Harem. Unfinished. 37 chapters. I don't remember much about it but I loved their Horrortale bros) The Skeleton Games by Poetax (Reader x UF Sans. On going, has 56 chapters by this time, SHORTY RED. I also love this one, another favorite hehe. Unexpected 100/10 to me) Aggre(v/g)ation by Llama_Goddess (Reverse Harem with UF/HT/UT Sans x Reader. Finished. Being honest again, I started reading years ago and haven't finished it for reasons that have nothing to do with the fic. I found it again and let's just say there's a reason why everyone worships this fic)

Those are ones that made my days the first time I enter tumblr. Now that i'm back, lets continue with the recent ones i've read:

House Next Door by BattleMaiden13 (Reverse Harem. On going. Has 130 chapters by this time but you're damned if you want to catch up because THAT AUTHOR IS FAST AF. I've started reading like a month ago and they already posted 25 chapters. Writing improves very fast as you're reading and there's so many things to enjoy. Delicious. 10/10) Saving Three Ex-cell-lent Skeletons by RecklesslyCaffeinated (Reverse harem with UF/HT/UT Sans x Reader. Finished with a second book on the works. ABSOLUTE BANGER. Another 10/10, made me heart bleed for skeletons and question myself) It's just a Game by Htsan (You x UT Sans. Finished. Unconventional. Read it if you like heavy angst and interactive games, and maybe hate your emotional stability... Really good, tho. 10/10. Made me cry so many times. Not gonna elaborate)

[kmomof4]

To Sir Graham, With Love Ch. 2

And we're back!! Thank you all so much for your response to this fic! I hope you enjoy today's chapter!!

Thank you again to @jrob64 and @whimsicallyenchantedrose for their betaing expertise and to @motherkatereloyshipper for her BEAUTIFUL artwork above! Please go give her lots of love!!

And happy birthday again to @snowbellewells for whom this fic was written!! I'm so glad you're loving it so much, my friend!!!

Ch Summary: After Ruby and Graham's most inauspicious first meeting, Ruby gets to know the twins and their father just a little bit better.

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

Words: Almost 7800 of approx 68k

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

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Ch

On Tumblr Prologue Ch1

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.

Ch. 2

… you will see why I could not accept his suit. He was too churlish by half and positively possessed of a foul temper. I should like to marry someone gracious and considerate, who treats me like a queen. Surely that is not too much to ask.

– from Ruby Jones to her dearest friend Mary Margaret Blanchard, sent by messenger after Ruby received her first proposal of marriage

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

By the time Ruby awoke after her most excellent, if somewhat lonely, breakfast, she was nearly convinced that she’d made quite a dreadful mistake in coming to Romney Hall.

Even in her utter exhaustion, she hadn’t been able to find any respite from her tumultuous thoughts, leaving her tossing and turning for quite some time before falling into an equally restless sleep. Finally waking, only the edge of her exhaustion had been assuaged.

But nearly convinced and completely convinced were two very different things, and she couldn’t bring herself to say that it was definitely a mistake coming here, because the only thing Ruby hated more than actually making a mistake, was the admittance of such.

And so Ruby was trying to maintain the stiff upper lip and not lose hope that everything might still work out in the end.

She’d been completely stunned when Sir Graham left her alone in the drawing room with no more than an enjoy your breakfast. She didn’t expect him to immediately fall to his knees and declare his everlasting love and devotion, but she didn’t think it out of the realm of possibility to expect a more congenial host, even if she had arrived unannounced and unexpected.

Or maybe she had expected him to fall in love with her at first sight. Or at least a tiny corner of her heart had expected it. She’d built up this elaborate dream in her mind of Sir Graham - a dream she now knew to be completely untrue. She’d made for herself a perfect man and was devastated now to realize that not only was he not perfect, he was, quite frankly, abysmal!

And the worst part was, Ruby had only herself to blame. Sir Graham had never misrepresented himself in his letters - not informing her that he was a father aside, especially before proposing marriage - but that hadn’t stopped her from dreaming. 

And that’s all they were. Just dreams. Wishful illusions. All in her own mind. She’d been expecting something that didn’t exist.

And she was certainly old enough to have known better.

He was not a good father. And that was about as black a mark as one could have in her book. No, actually, she wasn’t being fair to Sir Graham. She couldn’t judge his abilities as a father after observing a single interaction between himself and his children. They appeared to be in good health nor did they look to be mistreated in any way, though it was clear that he didn’t know how to handle them.

He clearly didn’t know what to do with them. They’d practically begged him to spend some time with them. Any child receiving adequate attention from their parents would never have behaved in such a way. Ruby and her siblings had spent half their childhoods trying to avoid their parents - the better to engage in various forms of mischief. 

Her own father had been splendid. She’d only been seven years old when he’d died, but she remembered him well - from the stories he would spin at bedtime, to hiking the hills of Kent, sometimes with all her siblings in tow, other times just him and her alone, for some special time with Father.

It was clear to Ruby that if she hadn’t suggested he go to them, he would have completely ignored them. Or rather, left them for someone else to handle. And trying to avoid one’s children? Ruby did not approve of that. At all.

She must get up before her swirling thoughts and tumultuous emotions cracked through her facade in the form of not just tears, but true, bone-deep, body-shaking sobs. She walked over to the window and wrenched it open. It was still slightly drizzling, but she needed the fresh air desperately.

She could see his greenhouse from her room. What kind of man preferred surrounding himself with plants rather than people? Certainly not someone interested in fine conversation. Ruby sighed. She’d spent her entire life looking for fine conversation. And if he was such a hermit, why did he invite her in the first place?

She needed to get out of this room. No one had appeared to inform her of lunch or any other plans that might extend to her as a houseguest, and if she stayed here a moment longer, she was likely to cry herself into oblivion, which was something she wanted to avoid at all costs.

Perhaps she could explore the house a bit. And find some food as well. It had been many hours since breakfast, if her rumbling stomach told her anything. She changed clothes, putting on a dress of green muslin that perfectly matched her eyes, but was, more importantly, easy to get on and off without a lady’s maid to assist.

She stepped out into the hall, only to meet the Humbert twins, who looked as if they’d been waiting for hours.

“Good afternoon,” Ruby greeted them, waiting for them to get to their feet. “How nice of you to greet me.”

“We’re not here to greet you,” Ava blurted out, Nicholas elbowing her in the ribs.

“You’re not?” Ruby asked, trying to sound surprised. “Are you here, then, to show me to the dining room? I’m quite hungry, I must say.”

“No,” Nicholas said, crossing his arms.

“Not even that?” she mused. “Let me see then… Perhaps you’ve come to show me your room and all your toys.”

“No,” they said in unison.

“Then it must be to take me on a tour of the house,” Ruby said, feigning delight. “It is quite large and I might lose my way.”

“No.”

“No? You wouldn’t want me to lose my way, would you?” she asked, diplomatically.

“No,” Ava answered. “I mean, yes!”

“You want me to lose my way?” Ava nodded, while Nicholas tightened his arms across his chest, staring at her belligerently.

“I see,” Ruby said. “But that doesn’t explain your presence outside my door. I’m not likely to get lost while in your company.” They stared at her, speechless for a moment. “You do know your way around the house, do you not?”

“Of course,” Nicholas grunted, immediately followed by Ava’s “We’re not babies.”

“Oh, I can clearly see that,” Ruby replied. “And besides, babies wouldn’t be allowed to wait outside my chamber door for hours.” She paused for a moment, looking between them. “Does your father know you’re here?”

“He’s busy.”

“Very busy.”

“He’s a very busy man.”

“Much too busy for you.”

Ruby watched and listened to the twins in their rapid fire back and forth, nearly falling over themselves in their efforts to tell her how busy Sir Graham was.

“So what you’re telling me,” Ruby said with a slow nod of understanding, “is that your father is busy.”

They stared at her, stunned speechless for a moment by her calm retelling of the facts. Then they both nodded.

“But that still doesn’t explain your presence,” Ruby repeated, “because I don’t think your father sent you here in his stead…” She turned a speculative eye on them, until they both shook their heads. “Unless… I know! You’re here to tell me you have magical powers and can predict the weather.”

“No,” they said, but Ruby heard a giggle.

“No?” she asked, turning toward the window, “That’s a shame, because this constant drizzle is miserable, don’t you agree?”

“No,” Ava said, forcefully. “Father likes the rain. And so do we.”

“Really?” Ruby mused. “How very odd.”

“No, it’s not!” Nicholas exclaimed, scrambling to his feet in a defensive posture. “Father isn’t odd. He’s perfect. Don’t say mean things about him!”

Ruby was quite taken aback at the vehemence of Nicholas’ words. She couldn’t help but wonder what exactly their expectations were. At first, she thought they sought to drive her out. Given their past behavior with their poor beleaguered former governesses - passed along to Ruby by their housekeeper - it wasn’t a large leap of logic to assume such. But if they knew their father’s objective in inviting her here, and wanted no part of a stepmother, wouldn’t they be trying to prove how unsuitable he was as a marriage candidate rather than singing his praises?

Ruby knelt before the children. “I assure you, Nicholas, Ava,” she began, looking each of them in the eye as she addressed them, “I harbor no ill will toward your father, or either of you.”

“If you make Father sad, I’ll… I’ll…”

Ruby’s heart went out to Nicholas as he struggled and failed to find words to express himself, his face growing red in his frustration.

“Nicholas,” she said, catching his gaze again. “I promise you, I am not here to make your father sad.” He said nothing, the muscles in his throat still working, betraying his agitation. “Ava?” she asked, turning her eyes on the girl beside him.

“You need to go,” she blurted out, her own arms crossed over her chest like her brother’s. “We don’t want you here.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere for at least a week,” she informed them, keeping her voice firm. They obviously needed sympathy. And love. But they also desperately needed some discipline and a clear understanding of who was in charge.

And then, out of nowhere, Nicholas charged forward and pushed her hard. Her balance was precarious - crouched as she was before them - so he’d barely had to touch her for her to fall to her bottom, most inelegantly.

“Well,” she declared, standing to her feet and looking sternly down at the equal parts surprised yet terrified children. They stared at her, their eyes wide and unblinking, as if they were as taken aback as she was that one of them had the temerity to actually push her. “That,” Ruby continued, “was inadvisable.”

“Are you going to hit us?” Nicholas’ voice was defiant, but underneath Ruby could detect a tinge of fear, as if someone had hit them before.

“Of course not,” she declared. “I’d never strike a child.” They both looked rather relieved at her statement. “But may I remind you,” she continued, “that you struck me first.”

“I pushed you,” Nicholas insisted. 

Ruby pressed her lips into a thin line. She should have seen that one coming. “If you do not wish to be struck, you should abide by the same principle.”

“The Golden Rule,” Ava piped up.

Ruby nodded. “Precisely.”

“But that means you should go home,” Ava asserted.

Ruby turned a puzzled face on the child before her, wondering what leap of logic Ava had taken to form that conclusion.

“We’re home,” Ava said, her countenance supercilious as only an eight year old could be. “So you should go home. We didn’t come to your house, so you shouldn’t come to ours. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” she added with a decisive nod.

Ruby had to admit, she was rather impressed. “You are quite clever, Ava.” Ava looked as if she wanted to smile at the compliment, but wasn’t sure she could trust it. Ruby crouched down again before them. “But you should know,” she began, catching both of their eyes in turn, “that I am very clever, too.”

They stared at her with their large eyes, their jaws somewhat slack as they regarded this person who was quite clearly different from any other adult they’d ever met.

“Do we understand each other?” Ruby asked, rising to her feet again and smoothing down the front of her dress as she waited for them to speak. When nothing was forthcoming, she decided to answer for them. “Good. Now, would you kindly show me to the dining room? I’m quite famished.”

“We have lessons,” Nicholas asserted, Ava nodding beside him.

“Oh, I see,” Ruby replied. “Well you should return to them at once. Spending so much time down here waiting for me, you must have fallen far behind.”

“How did you know…” Ava’s question was cut off suddenly by Nicholas elbowing her in the ribs.

“I have seven brothers and sisters,” she replied, deciding Ava’s question deserved to be answered, even if her brother hadn’t allowed her to fully ask it. “There isn’t much about this type of warfare that I don’t already know.”

Ruby smirked as the twins scampered down the hall, but then bit her lip in apprehension once they were out of sight. She probably shouldn’t have ended the conversation with such a challenge. She’d practically dared the twins to try and find a way to get her to leave. And while she had no doubt they wouldn’t succeed - she was a Jones, after all, and made of far sterner stuff than these two even knew existed - she didn’t relish being subject to the type of things they would most assuredly throw at her, figuratively, of course. Eels in the bed, jam in chairs, salt in the sugar bowl - she’d endured it all at one time or another, and wasn’t looking forward to a repeat performance. And certainly not by a pair of children two decades her junior.

She sighed, turning toward the stairs. She should probably get about the business of seeing if she and Sir Graham would suit. If she truly was leaving in a week or two, never to see the Humberts again, she really didn’t want to face mice, spiders, and other such creatures at the hands of the children. Her stomach rumbled. It was definitely time to find something to eat, before the twins figured out how to poison her food.

~*~*~

Graham knew he had blundered badly. But blast the woman, she’d given him no warning. No time to prepare himself with a few poetic words - because Lord knew, as much as he considered and pondered and deliberated over every SINGLE word he wrote to her, thinking of something suitable to say in the moment was not his strong suit. 

Or perhaps he could have greeted her with some flowers. After all, he certainly knew his flowers. Surely he’d have been able to impress her with some beautiful blooms from the greenhouse.

Instead, she’d appeared at his door, like a dream, and he’d mucked everything up. 

And it didn’t help that she was the total opposite of what he expected. 

She was a twenty-eight year old spinster, for heaven’s sake! She was supposed to be unattractive and desperate. More than willing to accept his offer of matrimony and become a desperately needed mother to his children. 

But she wasn’t. 

She was the most exquisite creature he’d ever seen in his life - tall and thin, with just the right amount of curves in all the right places. Just the thought of touching her was making his pants feel tight. Long, dark brown hair - he wasn’t sure exactly how long, done up as it was in an elegant coiffure - framed her alabaster skin and her wide green eyes and full red lips drew his mind in directions it really had no business going at this stage of their relationship.

There was absolutely no hope. She was beautiful, supremely self-confident - she wouldn’t have shown up unannounced otherwise - vivacious, obviously intelligent. There was no way under heaven she’d agree to tie herself to someone like him - a gentleman severely lacking in the social graces she must be accustomed to, and a terrible father to boot. Not to mention how remote and isolated the estate was. She was used to London society, having friends, and enjoying social outings. All of which were in very short supply in this, the furthest corner of Gloucestershire.

It was utterly useless to even try. He absolutely shouldn’t get his hopes up.

Damn! Now he was going to have to court someone else. No, actually, he was going to have to find someone else to court. All of the unmarried ladies in the vicinity knew of the twins and none were willing to take them on. He’d pinned all his hopes on Miss Jones, and now it appeared he would have to give up on her as well.

He’d been rude to her this morning, and there was no excuse for it. It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t manage his own children or that this particular failing always put him in a foul mood.

He placed the last pot containing the seedlings he’d spent the morning transplanting on the shelf and dunked his hands in the bucket already filled with muddy water to rinse them. Then he dried them on the towel hanging by the door.

As long as she was here, he might as well try. Only a fool would ignore Miss Jones, or send her away, without so much as a single conversation to try and determine their suitability. 

It was unlikely she would stay, but not impossible. 

He hoped.

He stepped out into the drizzle and made his way to the house, all the while formulating his plans. He was a complete mess - as he always was when working in the greenhouse - and while the servants were used to seeing him in such a state, Miss Jones was not. He’d use the side entrance into the kitchen and clean himself up, before coming to her room and inviting her to join him for lunch.

“Miss Jones!” he exclaimed in surprise the moment he entered the kitchen. She was perched on a stool at a small table, about to take a bite of a large ham sandwich. “What are you doing here?”

“Sir Graham,” she acknowledged before taking a bite.

“You shouldn’t be eating in the kitchen,” he asserted, scowling simply because he’d intended to clean himself up before finding her, and here she was catching him in a mess anyway.

“And why not?” she asked, looking honestly puzzled. “I was hungry and looking for company, and this seemed the best place to find both.”

He couldn’t tell if that was a reference to his absence this morning or not, but her green eyes were perfectly clear and free of artifice, so he let it go. 

“I was planning on cleaning up a bit and then inviting you to share lunch,” he said.

Miss Jones climbed down off the stool. “I’d be happy to remove myself to the breakfast room to join you for a meal. I’d only just started.” She looked toward the cook with a bright smile on her face and Graham caught his breath. “I’m sure Mrs. Smith wouldn’t mind making you a sandwich. This one is delicious.”

“Of course not, my lady,” Mrs. Smith agreed. Graham simply gaped at the cook. It was the friendliest tone of voice he’d ever heard from the crotchety old woman.

Ruby turned her bright smile on him, and Graham was helpless to do anything but return it. “Shall we?” she asked. “I have no objections to your attire.”

A few minutes later, they were seated in the breakfast room, devouring delicious ham sandwiches, and Graham was enjoying a perfectly prepared - by Miss Jones, of course - cup of tea.

“I met your children earlier,” she said, lifting her own cup to her lips.

“Yes, I was there,” he reminded her. He was quite pleased she had initiated the conversation, since he probably would have botched it completely, as he had this morning.

“No,” she corrected, “after that.”

Graham frowned in question. 

“They were waiting for me,” she informed him. “Outside my bedchamber door.”

Graham’s insides began to feel decidedly unwell and his thoughts began to swirl. Waiting for her with what? A bag of live frogs? A bag of dead frogs? The twins had never been kind to their governesses and he didn’t expect them to be any better with a female visitor who was obviously there as a potential stepmother.

He took a sip of his tea to try and stave off whatever mutiny his stomach was planning. “I see you survived the encounter…”

“But of course,” she agreed, a sly smile upon her lips. “We have reached an understanding. Of sorts.”

“I see.”

“You needn’t worry about me,” she assured him.

He raised an eyebrow in question. “Should I worry about my children?”

“Oh, no,” she said, waving aside his concern.

He took another bite of his excellent sandwich before speaking again. “I must apologize for my behavior this morning. I was rude and it was inexcusable.”

She nodded in acceptance of his apology. “And I apologize for arriving without sending notice first. It was quite ill-bred of me.”

“But where you had already apologized - twice, if I’m not mistaken - I had not,” he insisted.

She smiled - a small, but genuine, thing - and Graham caught his breath. Good God above. In all the time he’d been corresponding with her, he’d never imagined that she’d take his breath away.

“Thank you,” she murmured, a light blush on her cheeks. “I accept your apology.”

Graham cleared his throat and fidgeted in his seat, slightly uneasy in the face of her acceptance. What was wrong with him, that he was more uncomfortable with her smiles than with her frowns?

“Right, then,” he began, then cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the gruffness in his voice. “Now that we have that out of the way, perhaps we should talk about the reason you are here.”

Her mouth formed a small O of surprise, perhaps not expecting him to be quite so direct.

“You were interested in marriage.”

Graham nodded. “Are you?” he countered.

Her eyes widened. “I’m here,” she said simply.

He scrutinized her closely, not saying anything for quite a bit longer than necessary.

“You are not what I expected, Miss Jones,” he informed her finally.

“Under the circumstances, I believe it would not be inappropriate for you to use my given name,” she replied, “And you are not what I expected, either.”

He sat back in his seat, feeling slightly amused at her rejoinder. “And what did you expect?”

“What did you expect?” she shot back.

“I did not expect you to be so pretty.” 

The simple statement of fact, without any flirtation or shades of hidden meaning, made Ruby’s heart flutter. She wasn’t completely unattractive, she knew that, but she’d been looking far from her best this morning when she arrived, and even if she had been looking her best, men had never been struck dumb by her looks. They tended to see her more as a friend than a potential wife. So the unexpected compliment made her cheeks flush as she looked down at her half-eaten sandwich.

“I… ah…” she stammered, making her cheeks redden all the more. “Thank you.”

He nodded graciously.

She shrugged a shoulder, still not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know why my appearance would have been a surprise to you…” She trailed away, thoroughly annoyed at herself for her response to his sincere compliment. It was as if she’d never received a compliment before. But he was just sitting there, looking at her… staring at her…

She shivered.

Was it possible to shiver due to being too hot?

“You yourself wrote that you were a spinster,” he reminded her. “There must be some reason why you’ve never married.”

Ruby’s head snapped up at that statement. “It wasn’t because I hadn’t received any offers,” she rushed to assure him.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” he replied, nodding slightly in her direction. “But I cannot help but be curious as to why a woman like you would be compelled to resort to… someone…” He cleared his throat and looked down at his own sandwich, “like me…”

Ruby’s eyes narrowed as she looked, really looked, at him. He was definitely handsome, in a boyish sort of way, his sandy-colored curls making her fingers itch to run through them. His beard was neatly trimmed and he was tall, lean, and firmly muscled. His hands and arms were quite beautiful, tanned, with long fingers that she imagined digging in the dirt, nurturing his beloved plants. Then her thoughts turned in a different direction altogether, imagining those beautiful hands on her body, making her shiver involuntarily again.

It made her wonder why he felt the need to resort to her.

“I am here,” she began, finally remembering that he’d asked her a question, “because after refusing several offers of marriage…” She had no idea why she felt compelled to emphasize the fact that she’d had many suitors over the years… “I still desired to have a husband. Your letters seemed to indicate that you’d make a good candidate and it seemed foolish to ignore your kind invitation to see if we would make a good match.”

“I see.”

“But what about you?” she asked. “I can discern no reason why you’d feel compelled to seek me out for marriage. Are there not eligible ladies here in Gloucestershire?”

Graham simply stared at her, his mouth hanging open slightly in shock. Perhaps she wasn’t as intelligent as he thought. Surely she must be joking.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Um… you’ve met my children. Twice. You said so yourself.”

“Yes.” Her eyes were wide and honest, but as his words sunk in, they widened even more in realization. “You don’t mean…”

Graham nodded grimly. “The eligible ladies of the region have no interest in becoming step-mother to two children who are so badly behaved.”

“Pfft,” Ruby said, waving a regal hand in dismissal. “They aren’t that bad.”

“They need a mother.”

Her raised eyebrow at his statement told him he was trying her patience. “Yes, I can see that, but surely you can come up with something slightly more romantic to convince me to be your wife.”

Graham sighed and ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. “Miss Jones,” he began, then remembered her earlier statement about using her given name, “Ruby, I will be frank with you.” She nodded sharply in encouragement. “Because I have neither the time nor patience to try and woo you with pretty words or romantic declarations. I need a wife. My children need a mother. I invited you here to see if you’d be willing to assume such a role, and to see if you and I would suit.”

“Which one?” she asked, softly.

Graham cocked his head to the side in question. “Which one, what?”

“Which one do you want?” she repeated. “A wife? Or a mother?”

“Both,” he said, still wondering where she was going with this line of inquiry. “I should think that would be obvious.”

“Which one do you want more?” Her voice was still soft and Graham stared at her intently, fully aware that this was a very important question. Important enough perhaps that his answer could very well determine whether this unusual courtship would continue or not. 

Finally, he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know how to separate the two.”

“I see,” she murmured. “I expect you are right.” 

By some miracle, he hadn’t given the wrong answer to her question. He didn’t know whether she would consent to become Lady Humbert or not, but he did realize now that he’d be given the opportunity to try to win the fair Ruby Jones, and that was all he could really ask for.

~*~*~

Graham smiled to himself as he approached the stairway, very nearly giddy with delight at the change a life could take in just a matter of hours. He’d spent the entire afternoon in the company of Miss Jones - no, Ruby, he reminded himself - and he was now quite sure she’d make an excellent wife. And with all the nieces and nephews she told him about, she would surely know how to handle Nicholas and Ava. And besides all that, she was quite lovely. More than once this afternoon, he’d caught himself thinking about touching her, kissing her, and how she might respond in his arms. It had his pants tightening at the thought.

He checked his pocket watch when he reached the bottom of the stairs. He’d told Ruby that supper was at seven and he’d meet her outside her door to escort her down to the dining room.

Three minutes to the hour. Perfect. He’d arrive at her door with one minute to spare. He smiled, thinking about Ruby in an evening gown. He hoped it was green to match her eyes. She’d look lovely in green. A smirk touched his lips. She’d look lovely in nothing at all.

Except, when he found her outside her bedchamber door, she looked more like a ghost than an elegantly dressed woman. 

Bloody hell!

“Nicholas!” he bellowed. “Ava!”

“Oh, don’t bother,” she snapped at him, “They are long gone.” Her eyes were furious. And the only part of her not covered in a thick layer of flour.

“Miss Jones,” he began, reaching out to try and help her, before realizing what a futile gesture it was, “I cannot begin…”

“Do not apologize for them,” she snapped again.

“Right,” he agreed. “Of course. But I promise you…” His words trailed off, the silent glare on her countenance enough to silence Napoleon himself.

“Sir Graham,” she said through clenched teeth. “As you can clearly see, I am not ready for supper.” Graham took a self-preservational step backward, the look in her eye suggesting that she may yet launch herself at him in a furious frenzy.

“I gather the twins paid you a visit.”

“Oh, yes,” she agreed, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “And then scampered away, the little cowards.”

“Well, they wouldn’t be far,” he observed, deciding to overlook the well-deserved insult to his progeny. “Wanting to see the results of their…” 

Ruby coughed, sending up another swirl of flour.

“I don’t suppose you heard any laughter when the bucket came down?” he asked. “Cackling perhaps?” She glared at him. “Right.” He winced in apology. “Sorry.”

“I heard nothing but the bucket hitting my head,” she informed him furiously, looking to the side where he could see the offensive object on the floor, with a small amount of flour still inside.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. She shook her head. He reached out and took her head in his hands, running his fingers along her temples and around her hairline, searching for a welt.

“Sir Graham!” she cried, her hands grabbing futility at his forearms. “I must insist…”

“Hold still,” he commanded sternly. He was gratified when she obeyed and continued his search. His actions were rather intimate and it brought him immense satisfaction. She was the perfect height next to him and if she’d been clean, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to stop himself from kissing her brow.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, wrenching herself from his grasp. “The flour weighed more than the bucket.” He looked down and picked it up, weighing it in his hands. She was right. The flour surely weighed more than it did, but that didn’t mean he’d want it bashing him in the head, filled or not.

“I assume you’d like a bath,” he murmured.

Her reply was muttered under her breath, so he wasn’t exactly sure of her words. But it sounded like she said, “I’d like to get my hands on the little cretins.” If he was right, he didn’t blame her at all.

“I’ll have one drawn for you.”

“Don’t bother,” she said. “The water from my last bath is still in the tub.”

Graham sighed. The timing of his children was right on the spot. “I’ll… just… have a few buckets added to warm it back up.” She glared at him and he winced at his poor choice of words. “I’ll just go do that now.”

“Yes, please,” she gritted out.

He strode down the hall to find a maid and when he turned the corner, his mouth dropped open at the sight that met his eyes. A half dozen servants were loitering about making bets on how long the twins would last before Graham tanned their hides.

Once he gave the order and the servants disbursed to their duties, he returned to Ruby’s side. He was now dusted with flour as well, so he gently took her hand.

“I am terribly sorry,” he said, now trying not to laugh. When it had first happened, he’d been furious. But now, well, she did look rather ridiculous.

She glared at him, clearly sensing his change in mood. He quickly adopted a more sober countenance.

“Perhaps you should return to your room?” he suggested.

“And sit where?” she snapped.

She did have a point. She couldn’t sit anywhere without potentially ruining the fabric on which she sat. Or at least ensure that it would need a thorough cleaning.

“Well, I’ll just keep you company then.” He tried to inject a tone of joviality into his voice, but wasn’t sure he succeeded. The look she gave him confirmed his speculations. He looked up at the door behind them. “You have to admire their ingenuity,” he observed. “I wonder how they did it?”

The look on her face was decidedly incredulous. “Are you joking?” she asked. “They opened the door just a crack and then balanced the bucket on top of it.”

Now it was his turn to look at her with surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “I have seven brothers and sisters. Do you really think I’ve never seen this prank before?”

“I will see to punishing the twins,” he assured her.

“No, don’t,” she insisted, surprising him immensely. “Leave them to me.” His eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. He wasn’t sure what to make of her tone of voice.

“What, precisely, do you plan to do with them?” he asked.

“With them?” she replied, “Or to them?”

With God as his witness, he never thought he’d see the day that he’d be frightened of a woman. But that day had most assuredly arrived. The look in her eyes was decidedly diabolical.

“Miss Jones,” he said, tilting his head in question. “I must ask. What do you intend to do to my children?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m pondering my options.”

He considered that. “May I depend on them still being alive tomorrow morning?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” she assured him. “And with all their limbs intact.”

Graham stared at her for several long moments. Finally he smiled. He had a feeling that whatever revenge Miss Ruby Jones concocted for his offspring would be exactly what they needed. With seven brothers and sisters, he had no doubt that Ruby would come up the most sly, underhanded, and cunning vengeance. 

“Very well, Miss Jones,” he said. “They are in your hands. I will instruct the cook to keep supper warm for you.” Then he turned on his heel and departed.

An hour later, Graham and Ruby had just been served their meal when the screaming began. Graham actually dropped his spoon. Ava’s shrieks had a more terrified inflection than normal.

Ruby didn’t even blink as she took a sip of her soup. “She’s fine,” she assured him.

Graham half rose from his chair at the sound of thundering footsteps overhead, signaling Ava running for the stairs. “Perhaps I should…”

“I put a fish in her bed,” Ruby informed him calmly. She wasn’t quite smiling, though she did look rather pleased with herself.

“A fish?” he parroted.

“Very well,” she said with a slightly put upon sigh, “it was a rather large fish.”

The tadpole in his mind, quickly grew to a toothy shark. “Where ever did you get a fish?”

“From Mrs. Smith,” she said matter of factly.

He forced himself to sit back down. He wasn’t going to run to save Ava. She’d be down here momentarily anyway. He may have wanted to - he did possess a modicum of paternal instinct, after all, and she was shrieking as if the fires of hell were licking at her heels - but his daughter had made her bed, and now she would have to lie in the one Miss Jones had stunk up for her.

“What did you put in Nicholas’ bed?” he asked mildly.

“Nothing.”

He quirked a brow at her answer.

“It will keep him in suspense.”

The cool inflection to her voice had his eyebrows raising in intrigue. He cocked his head toward her in salute. She was good.

“They’ll retaliate, of course,” he felt duty bound to warn her.

“I’ll be ready.” She sounded utterly unconcerned, and Graham was thoroughly impressed. She took another spoonful of her soup, and then her clear, green gaze settled on him. “I suppose they know you’ve invited me here for the purpose of asking me to be your wife.”

“I never said anything to them,” he answered, honestly. 

“Why does that not surprise me,” she murmured under her breath.

“I don’t feel the need to keep my eight-year-old children apprised of all the happenings in my personal life.”

The tiny frown and matching shrug she sent him angered him for some reason.

“Miss Jones,” he said, testily, “I don’t need your advice on how to raise my children.”

The look she sent him was equal parts surprise and disdain, and that angered him even more.

“I didn’t say a word about the subject,” she replied. “But the fact that you yourself have said that they need a mother, suggests that you do indeed want help with them.”

“Until you agree to take on the role,” he bit out, “you may keep your opinions to yourself.”

She sent him an unamused glare and turned her attention back to her soup. She’d taken only one more bite when she looked back at him defiantly and spoke. 

“They need discipline.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“They also need love.”

“They get love,” he muttered.

“And attention.”

“They get that, too.”

“From you.”

Graham might be fully aware that he was a miserable father, but hearing it from someone else’s lips - hearing it from her lips - wasn’t to be borne. 

“And you’ve deduced their state of shameful neglect in the twelve hours since your arrival here?”

She snorted in disdain. “It doesn’t take a genius, nor twelve hours, to see that they are desperate to spend time with you! They begged you this morning to spend just a few hours with them.”

“They did nothing of the sort.” Graham could feel the flush rising on his face. The way it always did when he was lying.

Ruby snapped her mouth shut and inhaled deeply before standing abruptly. 

“Since I clearly have no understanding of the obviously loving relationship you have with your children,” she said sarcastically, “I’ll just return to London.” 

“Wait!” Graham pleaded, rising and going after her. Damn! How had it come to this so quickly? An hour ago, he’d been convinced she’d make a wonderful mother and that she’d accept the role, and now, she was leaving. “Please,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m sorry. Truly.” Nothing turned his temper more quickly than his children. Or more precisely, the discussion thereof. Or even more precisely, the discussion of his failure as a father. “Please, don’t go.”

Her gaze settled on his outstretched hand and then moved up to his face, her own countenance pensive. “I’ll not be treated like an imbecile.”

“Miss Jones, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you in the last twelve hours,” he acknowledged, repeating his earlier words on purpose, “it’s that you are no imbecile.”

She considered him for another moment and then gently placed her hand in his outstretched one.

“At the very least,” he said, trying for an upbeat tone and not sound like a pathetic beggar, “you must stay until Ava arrives.” Her brows rose in surprise. “Savor your victory, you know,” he continued, “I know I would.”

He led her back to her seat, but scarcely a minute later, Ava came shrieking into the room, followed by her huffing and puffing nurse. 

“Father!” she cried, throwing herself onto his lap.

Graham held her as best he could, albeit rather reluctantly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held one of his children, and he’d truly forgotten how to do it. 

“What’s all this?” he asked, patting her on the back awkwardly.

Ava pulled back from where she’d buried her face in his neck, tears still streaming down her flushed cheeks, and forcefully pointed a small trembling finger - as if identifying the most foul creature imaginable - straight at Ruby.

“It’s her!” she all but hissed.

“Miss Jones?” Graham asked, rather proud of himself for interjecting just enough disbelief as to catch Ava off guard.

“She put a fish in my bed!” Her voice pitched higher and higher until Graham was sure the windows must be near shattering.

“And you dumped flour on her head,” he said mildly. “I’d say you’re even.”

Ava’s eyes widened almost comically and Graham simply regarded her as her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, nothing yet coming out.

“B- but,” she finally stammered, “you’re my father! Aren’t you going to do something? You’re supposed to take my side!”

“When you’re in the right,” he agreed. “Otherwise…” He tilted his head in question at her.

“It was a fish!” she sobbed pitifully. 

“So I smell,” he informed her. “You’ll be wanting a bath, I suppose.”

“I don’t want a bath!” she wailed. “I want you to punish her!” Out came the furious finger again.

Graham smiled at Ruby, quite pleased with how this was going. He felt no need to snap at Ava or to avoid the issue altogether by banishing her to her room. Maybe it was Ruby’s calm presence, but whatever it was, he was most thankful for it.

“She’s rather grown up to be punished, don’t you think?” he asked.

Ava stared at him, jaw hanging open in shock, in horrified disbelief. “I want you to send her away, right now!” she shouted.

At that, Graham set her down on her feet and looked sternly at her. “I will not be sending Miss Jones away, Ava,” he informed her. “I invited her, which makes her my guest, not yours, and she will stay as long as I wish her to. Or as long as she wishes.”

Ava’s eyes narrowed, her entire face scrunched in thought.

“Which does not mean,” he continued, “that you can try to find a way to force her to leave.”

“But…”

“No buts.”

“But…”

“What did I just say?”

“But she’s mean!”

“I think she’s very clever,” he said, smiling at Ruby. “Now, go to your room.”

“But it smells!”

Graham shrugged, still not taking his eyes off of Ruby. “You have only yourself to blame.”

“But my bed…”

“You’ll have to sleep on the floor,” he informed her.

She finally turned toward the door, face - well, her entire body, truth be told - quivering, taking slow and halting steps, her nurse right behind her. 

“But,” she said, turning toward him just before reaching the door. “She didn’t punish Nicholas.” Her voice was nearly a whisper. “That wasn’t very fair of her. The flour was his idea.” At Graham’s skeptical raised eyebrow, Ava continued. “Well, it wasn’t only my idea. We thought it up together.”

Graham chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about Nicholas.” He glanced at Ruby, who raised her own eyebrow at him. “On second thought, maybe you should. I expect Miss Jones has plans for him yet.”

Ava’s face looked somewhat satisfied at that bit of information. “Goodnight, Father.”

Once she was gone, Graham turned his attention to his soup, feeling almost giddy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a run-in with one of the twins in which he came out of the encounter without feeling like he’d just gone ten rounds in a ring and lost. He looked over at Ruby, who appeared perfectly calm.

“Poor Nicholas will be quaking in his boots.”

Ruby looked like she was trying hard not to grin. “He won’t sleep tonight.”

“Not a wink, I should expect,” he agreed. “You should watch your step, though. He’s liable to put some sort of trap outside his door.”

“Oh, I have no plans to torture Nicholas this evening,” she assured him. “That’d be far too easy to predict. I prefer the element of surprise.”

“Yes,” Graham chuckled. “I do not doubt that at all.”

Ruby looked at him smugly. “I’d almost consider allowing him to writhe in tortured expectation indefinitely,” she said, her eyes gleaming, “except it really wouldn’t be fair to Ava.”

Graham shuddered. “I hate fish.”

“Yes, I know,” she replied. “You told me in one of your letters.”

“I did?”

She nodded. “Odd that Mrs. Smith would have one then, but I guess the servants like it.”

They descended into silence, but it wasn’t awkward in any way. Not as hard as it had been with Jacinda. Throughout their marriage, Graham had felt as if he was walking on eggshells around his wife, never knowing when she would descend into one of her moods. When Jacinda was alive, his burdens about the children had been his alone. Jacinda herself had been a burden, and he was still wrestling with the guilt he carried for the relief he felt that she was gone. 

But looking across the table at Ruby… maybe this was the way marriage was supposed to be. Easy, comfortable, companionable. Just enjoying each other’s company. As they worked their way through course after course, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, Graham realized what a remarkable woman Ruby Jones truly was.

She was quite the loveliest woman he’d ever seen, with gorgeous, thick brown hair and eyes sparkling with intelligence and just a hint of mischief. And with a body that he could imagine in all sorts of ways. But it was who she was inside that truly intrigued him. He was starting to realize she was exactly what he needed. She was smart, opinionated, bossy. Generally not the characteristics one looked for in a wife, but ones which Graham knew would be necessary if she was to turn things around here at Romney Hall. Nothing was right - from the house, to the children, to the pall that hung over everyone who lived and worked here since before Jacinda died and sadly hadn’t dissipated a whit since. He’d gladly cede his husbandly power to Ruby if only she’d make everything right again. 

But would she?

God, he hoped so.

~*~*~

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