#cs marta

[cstveamaryllis]

HEADCANON BIRTHDATES AND AGES OF CARMEN SANDIEGO CHARACTERS (FOR MY AU)

MAIN CAST YEAR - 2023-2024 Carmen - 24-25, March 1, 1999 Ivy - 23-24, July 18, 2000 Zack - 22-23, September 27, 2001 Player - 19-20, March 7, 2004 Shadowsan - 48-49, January 10, 1976

MAIN VILLAINS Amaryllis - 19-20, October 5, 2004 Flytrap - 21-22, November 26, 2002 Spinkick - 21-22, December 16, 2002 SIDE VILLAINS (not revealing them y et) ??? - 27-28, November 10, 1996 ??? - 26-27, April 17, 1997 ??? - 28-29, May 8, 1995 ??? - 30-31, April 26, 1993 ??? - 25-26, June 6, 1998

ACME

Julia - 26-27, March 16, 1997 Chase - 44-45, February 4, 1980 Chief/Fraiser - 56-57, February 19, 1967 Zari - 28-29, June 22, 1995 ??? - 43-44, September 2, 1981

VILE FACULTY

Maelstrom - 62-63, December 10, 1961 Bellum - 56-57, November 27, 1967 Cleo - 52-53, May 5, 1971 Coach Brunt - 61-62, March 16, 1962 Roundabout - 60-61, September 26, 1963

OTHER CHARACTERS

Marta Contreras - 46-47 October 15, 1978 Gray/Crackle - 30-31, October 21, 1993 Sheena/Tigress - 29-30, July 16, 1994 Mime Bomb - 28-29, November 2, 1995 Antonio - 31-32, July 23, 1992 Jean Paul - 31-32, February 2, 1992 Paperstar - 26-27, August 6, 1997 Neal - 31-32, November 18, 1992 Dash Haber - 34-35, August 20, 1989 Lady Dokuso - 48-49, August 22, 1976 Cookie Booker - 52-53, December 19, 1971

[whewchilly]

martagarcialopez19 Hello everyone, yesterday I experienced one of the toughest moments in my career.

I had a very heavy crash at the Circuit de Barcelona, with an impact of 21 Gs. Another driver hit me from behind and I went straight into a tire barrier next to the wall. The car caught fire, and although I managed to get out by myself, I inhaled some smoke and felt dizzy afterwards.

I couldn't open my door because it was stuck from the impact, and I started panicking as more and more smoke was coming into the car... until the marshals broke the co-driver's door and got me out. I'm so thankful to them for reacting so quickly and for the job they did.

I spent the night in the hospital and will probably stay one more night just as a precaution. All scans came back clear, but I'm still feeling shaken and not quite back to normal yet.

I will take some time to rest properly and come back racing soon

A huge thank you to the trackside medical team, the marshals, the rescue crew, and everyone at Hospital General de Catalunya at Quirón for taking such good care of me - and to everyone who's sent me messages of support. I really appreciate it. And also the team huber_racing and iron.dames for the support they gave me. 🩷

[snowbellewells]

@kmomof4 And the secret is revealed at last!!! 🙌🏻🎆🙌🏻 I am so excited for this story now, I really can’t even express how much!! Even more than that, I am just so touched that you would undertake and in-depth, multi-chapter fic focused on a minor character that most people do not even give that much thought as a gift for my birthday!! That it Bridgerton-set and in the universe of your amazing “Mistress to No One” only makes it 10x more exciting, but it being a whole fic with Graham in the lead role have me beside myself in delight.

Right away, you grabbed my attention and sympathy for both Graham and Ruby as they were each introduced. Ruby’s letter snippets felt like you were seeing right into her heart. The hope and excitement she had before her first season, and then the resignation that crept in as that perfect match didn’t appear. Then, the apparently lost missive that indicated she was taking things into her own hands to hopefully have her chance at love… And Graham sitting and thinking over the loss of his wife, the melancholy that has settled over all, and his fear that he is failing his children… I wanted to reach into the prologue and hug him🥺 He is probably being too hard on himself, but the fact that he wants so badly to find a partner who will nurture them and be what they need speaks to him selflessness and good heart. Is it possible to be more in love with him already?!? ���😉

Anyway, this prologue was a brilliant way to get me fired up for the rest of the story, and to make my Thursday - and my birthday - start off with SO MUCH excitement. I have been so anxious to know what you were working on, and I am absolutely thrilled now that I do know!!! I have to finish getting ready for work now, but once I saw this, it could not wait even a minute!!!

Thank you, Thank You, THANK YOU Krystal!!! From the bottom of my heart, this is such a lovely gift, and I am even more blessed by your friendship!!

To Sir Graham, With Love - A New Fic for @snowbellewells Birthday!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARTA!!!!! We FINALLY made it, and I am SOOO EXCITED to finally be posting this fic for your special day!!! I love you dearly and I'm so thankful to have you in my life!!! I so hope you enjoy this fic featuring another one of your favorite couples, or at least one of your other favorite characters!!! I hope your day is as wonderful as you are and that this makes it even better!!! Love you, my friend!!!

@jrob64 and @whimsicallyenchantedrose are my FABULOUS betas for this story and they deserve all the love and long distance hugs I can give them for betaing this monster of a fic!!

@motherkatereloyshipper is responsible for some GORGEOUS artwork that is going to take some doing to share, because it's too big for Tumblr. But let me assure you, it is gorgeous and it WILL get shared, just as soon as I figure out how. I wish I could swim the ocean so I could give Kit a tackle hug!! Please go give her all the love!!!

As Graham is one of Marta's favorite characters, this was the perfect Bridgerton story to adapt to him and Ruby. It is inspired by Eloise Bridgerton's story, To Sir Phillip, With Love. This fic is set in the same universe as my first Bridgerton fic, A Mistress to No One, though it's not necessary to have read it to enjoy this one.

Today's prologue is very short, so I'll be posting ch1 on Saturday and then weekly thereafter.

I so hope you enjoy my adaptation and let me know what you think!!!

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

Rating: M (smut, mentions of abuse)

Words: Almost 2k of almost 68k

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

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 @myfearless-love 

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Prologue

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

I know you say I will someday like boys, but I say NEVER! Do you hear me? NEVER!!! With THREE exclamation points! From Ruby Jones to her mother Alice, shoved under her door during Ruby’s eighth year

~*~*~*~

I never dreamed the season could be so exciting, David! I’m sure I’ll fall in love straight away! How could I not? When the men are so handsome and charming? From Ruby Jones to her older brother David, on the occasion of her London debut ~*~*~*~

I’m starting to believe I’ll never marry. If there was someone out there for me, don’t you think I’d have found him by now? From Ruby Jones to her dearest friend Mary Margaret Blanchard, during their sixth season as debutantes ~*~*~*~

This is my last chance. I am grabbing destiny with both hands and throwing caution to the wind. Sir Graham, please, please be all that I’ve imagined you to be. Because if you are the man your letters portray you to be, I believe I could love you. And if you felt the same… Ruby Jones, writing on a scrap of paper, the evening she ran away from home to meet Sir Graham Humbert for the first time – A scrap of paper that fluttered to the floor behind her writing desk when the created breeze as she opened and shut her bedroom door, reached it.

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

It was another sunny day. 

A sunny day after a string of gray.

Just like before.

Could that be why he was feeling so melancholy? God, he hoped so. Because that’s a plausible reason why he couldn’t seem to bring himself to leave his seat in his study and why he couldn’t remember actually drinking the whiskey he’d poured himself when he’d entered the room quite some time ago, if the angle of the setting sun told him anything.  

He couldn’t bear it if he became like her.

Melancholy for no reason at all. A melancholy that permeated her very being. They’d been married for eight years and he’d never heard Jacinda laugh. And he could count on one hand how many times he’d seen her smile.

He probably should have expected it. Who was he kidding? He did expect it; he just didn’t allow that thought, that sense of foreboding, to penetrate the front of his consciousness. 

He never would have thought she’d do it on such a beautiful day, though. 

A beautiful day after such a long stretch of… not beautiful… melancholy… days; days much more suited to her incessant mood.

Graham had been in his greenhouse that fateful day, recording the results of his latest experiment with peas - he sought to breed a new strand that grew fatter and plumper inside the pod, though he hadn’t yet succeeded - when he looked up through the freshly washed glass of the greenhouse and saw a flash of red. Jacinda’s favorite color. She must have roused herself from her bedchamber to come outside and enjoy the lovely sunshine. The thought made him smile. Perhaps the sun would bring her some modicum of joy.

He watched as she disappeared into a copse of trees between the greenhouse and the small lake on the estate, then bent back down to his work.

Suddenly the thought occurred to him that he should collect his children and bring them outside to see their mother. They saw her every evening, but they craved more time with her, even if all they could expect was a trembling of her lips and a pat on the head. He hadn’t yet seen his children today, but with the sunshine, he’d left instructions for their nurse to take them on a walk outside before he’d come down to the greenhouse, but he could just as easily take them on their walk, and he ought not shirk that responsibility.

A wave of guilt came over him. He was not the father they needed. He tried to assuage his conscience by telling himself that he was quite definitely succeeding in his one and only goal he had pertaining to fatherhood - to not be the kind of father his father was. But he was succeeding in that matter only because he spent as little time as possible with them, more often shooing them off to their nurse for her to deal with. It was easier that way.

He rose from his workbench and left the greenhouse, intent on bringing Nicholas and Ava outside to spend a few minutes with their mother, but as he strode toward the house, he realized that he should probably ascertain Jacinda’s mood before springing the children on her. He hated for them to see her in one of her moods, so he changed direction and went in search of his wife.

Her footprints were clear in the soft ground when he entered the woods he’d watched her disappear into, but once he emerged from their cover, he cursed, having forgotten about the grassy meadow he now stood in. Her footprints would be invisible now, so he looked up, shading his eyes against the morning sun, looking for a flash of red. Nothing at the old abandoned cottage, nor near the field of experimental grains he grew, or at the giant boulder he’d spent many hours scrambling over as a child. He finally turned north toward the lake and spotted her.

The lake. 

He was frozen for a moment, as he watched her slow progress toward the shore of the small body of water. It wasn’t until she was nearly there that his paralysis broke, his feet somehow recognizing what his eyes and mind hadn’t yet comprehended. He was still too far away to do anything but call her name as he ran toward her. 

If she heard him, she gave no indication, never halting her progress. She entered the shallows and just kept walking until she came to the drop off, disappearing under the water, the red cloak she wore floating for just a moment before it was dragged down with her to the depths. 

It was another full minute before Graham arrived at the edge of the lake, even at a full run. He had just enough presence of mind to take off his boots and coat before following 

her into the freezing water. She’d only been underwater a minute, but he had no idea how long it took for someone to drown, and every second more was another second closer to her death.

He plunged under the water, and with strong strokes, swam to where he’d last seen her. He peered through the murky water looking for the telltale flash of red. 

There.

She didn’t fight him as he grabbed the cloak and hauled her to him to bring her to the surface. When he got her to the shore, her skin had the gray pallor that he’d only seen twice in his life. Once on his father and the other when his beloved brother’s body was returned home after losing his life at Waterloo. The second thrusting him into the position he now held as well as laying the duty to marry and beget an heir on his shoulders. He didn’t love Jacinda. He never had. But he cared for her, and he knew underneath the persistent melancholy, she was a good person, and he’d never wish for her death.

He shook his head, flinging droplets of water from his hair and face, but was shocked to realize it wasn’t just lake water, it was tears. How could she do this? What about the children? In the balance of life, did her sadness really mean more than their need for a mother? How was he going to tell them? He was barely a father to them. How in the hell was he now supposed to be a mother as well?

He barely remembered carrying his wife’s body back to the house, the persistent hope in the back of his mind that the children and their nurse hadn’t yet left for their walk. He managed to avoid them the rest of the day - sending for the priest and making the arrangements for Jacinda’s burial. But when evening came, he knew he had to face them.

They said hardly a word when he told them their mother was gone, which was unusual. Just turned seven years old, they stared at him with their wide unblinking eyes. They didn’t look surprised, either, which disturbed Graham just a bit.

“I… I’m sorry,” he stammered, looking down at his hands clasped in his lap. He loved them so much, but he’d failed them in so many ways. How could he face them?

“It’s not your fault,” Nicholas said. Graham met his dark eyes as his son lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “She fell in the lake. You didn’t push her.”

“Is she happy now?” Ava asked quietly. Graham looked at her and sighed.

“I think so,” he murmured. “She gets to watch you now from heaven, so yes, I think she’s happy.”

“I hope so,” Nicholas finally said. “Maybe she won’t cry anymore.”

That caught Graham’s attention. He hadn’t realized they could hear Jacinda’s sobs. It was normally so late at night that they should have been long asleep, but with their room directly above hers, he really shouldn’t have been surprised.

Ava nodded in agreement with her brother’s statement. “If she’s happy now, then I’m glad.”

And it was the truth. Graham could only hope her soul had finally found the peace and happiness that eluded her in life. And if that was the case, he would take solace in it.

Pulling himself back from the bleak direction his thoughts had taken, he looked down at his empty glass again. He hated remembering that day two months ago, but the similarities between that day and this were too much to be ignored and he couldn’t help himself. On the day her mother died, Ava had asked if he was going to leave them too and he swore that he wouldn’t - he’d never leave them. But his presence wasn’t enough. They needed more. They needed someone who knew how to be a parent. Someone who knew how to speak to them, love them, understand them, get them to behave. 

He needed a wife.

Almost any wife would do. He didn’t care what she looked like, how much money she had, or if she could do sums in her head. She just needed to be happy. Was that too much to ask?

It was too soon, of course. He couldn’t marry until the prescribed mourning period was completed, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t start looking.

“Sir?” His secretary, Miles, interrupted his musings. “A letter for you. From London.”

He took the small envelope, noting the feminine slant to the script, and dismissed the man with a nod. Opening it, a single sheet of paper fell out. It was heavy, clearly expensive. He turned it over and began to read.

No. 5, Bruton Street

London

Sir Graham Humbert-

I am writing to express my condolences on the loss of your wife, my cousin, Jacinda. Although it had been many years since I’d seen her, I remember her fondly and was saddened to hear of her passing.

Please do not hesitate to write if there is anything I can do to ease your pain in this difficult time.

Yrs,

Miss Ruby Jones

Jones. Jones. Did Jacinda have Jones cousins? She must have. The evidence was right here before him. He had received very few notes of condolences since Jacinda passed. She rarely left her bedchamber, after all. It was easy to forget about someone who was never seen.

Miss Ruby Jones deserved a reply. Besides being common courtesy, he just felt it was the right thing to do. 

Graham picked up his quill, and with a weary breath, began to write.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! Happy birthday, Marta!! Hope you've had a wonderful day!!! Ch1 will be up Saturday!!

[cssns]

We Are Back!!! Everyone Please Help Me Welcome @snowbellewells Back to the CSSNS!!!

Your Tumblr and any other applicable names

snowbellewells

How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom?

Around 11 years

When did you start shipping Captain Swan?

About as soon as Season 3 got going

What drew you to this event?

Well, I was psyched to be part of something with so many other friends and fic writers I was just getting to know back when the first CSSNS happened, and I was also excited for the possibility of more werewolf CS stories!

What inspired your topic?

I have always loved the original Dracula novel (movie versions, not so much 🫣) and I am actually dumbfounded I never thought of trying it before. Thanks to @kmomof4 for planting the idea in my head, because I didn’t actually know what I was going to do this year before that moment!

If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below.

Emma craned her neck to peer out the small window of the carriage into the black darkness encroaching on all sides as the conveyance careened around sharp curves and stark cliff faces in a way that made her stomach pitch and put her heart in her throat. More than once, her mouth opened to call to the driver, to beg him to slow down, but each time a sudden jolt or swerve had her clenching her teeth and swallowing the words back as she gripped the seat. Pitching wildly from one side of the bench to the other, Emma nearly toppled to the floor repeatedly as they sped on.

The torches at the side of the carriage doors flickered wildly behind their glass sconces, but barely even made pinpricks in the heavily encroaching night all around them; deep blackness which had seemingly swallowed them ever since they left the small gypsy outpost where they had supped just an hour past. Realizing belatedly that she was only becoming more overwrought and anxious the longer they hurtled forward, she tried to lean her head back against the seat and close her eyes rather than staring blindly into nothing, resolutely forcing deep, calming breaths as she did.

Scant moments passed in such a manner before Emma felt her racing heartbeat slow, at least a bit. It was then that a different sort of thrill ran along her spine - different from the chill which had settled over her skin with the horrifying loss of Aurora’s sweet, innocent life and the eerie foreboding which had accompanied her since setting out on this final leg of her path toward the perpetrator of her younger friend’s downfall. This determined trek higher and higher into the isolated Carpathian range seemed weighed more heavily on her spirit with every mile they gained. But they were close now. She could feel it.

Still, regardless of the tightening pit in her stomach and the anxious flutter of her pulse, Emma would not fail to accomplish her part in Killian’s plan. None of them would. They had taken solemn vows. Each one of their number had a role to play. And she was the bait…

For our artists: What kind of art do you like to do? Picsets, painting, digital, etc?

I do Canva picsets.

For our betas: Who/what have you beta'd before, or is this your first time?

I have beta read for CSSNS the last couple summers, and I also occasionally beta for individuals when asked. I really enjoy being part of a story as it is being formed, and getting to talk with another author along the way about ideas, their process, etc.

What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event?

As always, I can’t wait to read the other stories and get to interact with all of those who are still keeping the CS love going strong!!

Welcome back, Marta!!! Your writing is always so descriptive and I have CHILLS reading the snippet above!!! I can't wait for it to drop on Aug 18, as well as your shifter OS on July 19!!

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Girls' Trip Fairy Tale Ending--Chapter 5 of 6

Summary:  This is my combined birthday gift for Joni (  @jrob64​  ), Marta ( @snowbellewells ) and Krystal ( @kmomof4 ).  Happy birthday ladies! Four fandom friends are nearing the end of their annual girls’ trip when they’re suddenly visited by Isaac, the author before Henry.  He gives them an each a gift–an opportunity to jump into any scene in the storybook they want and fix it.  Large focus on CS, although other characters and relationships will be explored.  A big shoutout to @hollyethecurious​ and @winterbaby89 for betaing!

Word Count: 2420

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew @annaamelll @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian  @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4  @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree  @jrob64  @anmylica   @booksteaandtoomuchtv​ @elfiola

Other chapters:  (1) (2) (3) (4)

Can also be found on: (ao3) (ff.net)

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

Jen didn’t know what she expected transportation via storybook to be like, but she was delighted to discover it was something like entering a snowglobe.  Snowflakes swirled around her, and she watched with delight as they landed on her arms, her shoulders, the ends of her hair.  Each one was different, but each was thoroughly exquisite in its own way.  She knew that most people didn’t get her love of winter and snow but it was beautiful and fascinating, and she would go on loving it despite what anyone else might say.

So engrossed was Jen in the snow swirling around her, that she barely noticed moving from her place in the cabin until the air cleared and she found herself just inside the Charming’s flat.  Her eyes fell first on the tremendous, festively decorated Christmas tree in the sitting area and then the simpler evergreen wreath hanging on the inside of the door.

So it was Christmastime in her version of events?  Well, why not?  Wasn’t Christmas the time for magic?  And she would need some heavy duty, industrial strength magic to fix the mess Isaac had made of the latter part of season 6.

“So Hook….he killed my father?  Okay, that’s a little tough to process.” she heard David say from the kitchen area, and suddenly she knew just exactly where they were in the story.  She hung back for a moment, trying to figure out just the right time and the right way to intervene.

“I was hoping I didn’t have to tell you,” Emma said, sounding defeated from her perch on the breakfast bar.

“Where the hell is Hook anyway?” David asked, aggressively pacing the kitchen. “He didn’t have the guts to come tell me himself?”

If anything, Emma looked even more dejected. “There’s more.  Hook, he … he left town.”

“What?” David exclaimed, finally coming to a stop and staring at his daughter in disbelief. 

“We had a big fight about him hiding this, and I told him if he wasn’t ready to trust me that, that we shouldn’t talk for a while,” Emma said, “so I guess he wasn’t ready, because Leroy saw him on the docks, and he got on the Nautilus and just…sailed away.”

At this, Jen found herself shaking her head, hurrying forward to intervene.

“Emma,” she said gently, “are you sure?  Are you absolutely SURE that’s what happened?”

Emma looked up, anger and pain written all over her face.  She spread her hands wide.  “He’s not here, is he?  What am I supposed to think?”

“I know how hurt you are by all that happened,” Jen said, “but hasn’t he shown you yet that you don’t need to put up your walls to protect yourself from him?  Hasn’t he proven how much he loves you?”

“Not enough to keep from hiding things from me,” she muttered.

“Kind of like how you hid the truth about the shears and your destiny as savior from him?” Jen asked, being careful to keep any hint of accusation from her tone.

“That’s….that’s different!” Emma spluttered, jumping from the counter and striding purposely toward the coat rack.  “I’ve gotta get to the station. Look, whatever you or I or anyone else might think of him, the facts are the facts, and the fact is that Leroy saw him leave me.  End of discussion.”

As though to punctuate her sentence, she stepped out the door and slammed it behind her.  The Christmas wreath on the door fell to the floor with the violence of the action.  David moved forward to replace the decoration on its perch.

“You know I’m right, don’t you David?” Jen asked.  

He didn’t look at her, instead taking long moments to adjust the wreath just so on the door.  Finally he turned back to face her.  “She’s my daughter, Jen, and she’s hurting, and he’s the cause of it, whatever led to it.  My focus has to be on helping her heal”

“But if things aren’t exactly the way they look…if maybe this is the work of a villain or something,” Jen said, “wouldn’t the ideal way to help her be to figure out the truth?  And you know Killian.  You know how much he loves Emma.  Doesn’t he deserve the benefit of the doubt?”

David frowned, and Jen could tell her words struck a chord in him.  “I suppose you’re right.”

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

With another delightful swirl of snow, Jen found herself transported to the sheriff’s station where David and Emma were discussing digitizing files and the merits of busywork to help dull the pain. She decided to hang back in the shadows, watching to see how this scene played out.

“I’ve got just the thing to mend a broken heart,” Regina said happily, brushing snow off of her coat as she breezed into the station and held up a small piece of paper rolled into a scroll.

Emma eyed it warily. “Whatever spell that is, I don’t want it.  I’m seriously not in the mood for magic.”

“Who said anything about magic?” Regina said unfurling the scroll which was covered in so many images of the season, it looked like Christmas had thrown up all over it.  “It’s a two for one drink coupon for that new club, Aesop’s Tables.  Seems they’re having a big Christmas sale.  It’d be a shame to waste it!”

David stepped up, looking at the coupon and shaking his head. “Really?  You think half priced liquor is the way to go.”

“I certainly do,” Regina said.  “We need a ladies night out, me, Emma and Snow.  We go early enough, we can get back in time for Christmas eve with the family.”

Emma looked unimpressed at the suggestion.  “Remember she’s in a sleeping curse?  She’s at home. Asleep.”

“Well, she doesn’t have to be asleep,” Regina said with a meaningful look at David.

“Oh come on!  I just woke up!” he said.  Regina gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes.  “I guess she doesn’t have to be asleep.”

Emma got to her feet, clearly in no mood for any of this. “I can’t. I’m about to go on patrol, and shouldn’t you be trying to break that curse?”

Regina blew out an exasperated breath. “Well, I’m working on it, but I could use a break.  We all could.  I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re trying to hide it because, well, you’re Emma, but you can’t just run from this.”

Emma gave her a hard look.  “I didn’t run.  Hook ran, so, there’s nothing more to say.”  She placed the last file on the pile in front of her with rather more force than strictly necessary, and then headed toward the door.  It was abundantly clear that she was running from the conversation as much as she was heading out on rounds.

“You know,” David said speculatively as she walked out, “I’ve been thinking.”

Regina snorted, “a dangerous pastime.”

He glared at her and then went back to the topic at hand. “I’m not sure it’s true.  I’m not sure Hook really DID run,” he finished.

“Well he’s not here, is he?” she asked, gesturing around the office to make her point. “Seems your daughter has some reason to think he skipped town.”

“Leroy,” David said.

“I beg your pardon?” Regina said.

“Leroy’s her reason,” David said.  “He apparently saw Hook on the docks, told Emma something about Hook getting on the Nautilus and sailing away.”

Regina tutted derisively.  “Leroy?  Emma’s just going on the word of that gossip girl?”

David shrugged.  “You know how hard it is for Emma to trust, how closely she guards her heart.  She’s hurting, but you and I both know Hook.  That man isn’t capable of loving by half measures.  It doesn’t make sense that he’d decide he doesn’t trust her and just….cut his losses and skip town.”

Jen nodded in satisfaction.  That’s the David she knew, rather than the clueless one Isaac wrote, the one who was ready to believe the worst of Killian at the slightest provocation.

“I guess you have a point there,” Regina conceded, “and we do have a psychopath running around trying to separate Emma from all her sources of support.  I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe it’s time to give the pirate the benefit of the doubt.”

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

With another swirl of snow, Jen found herself in the sitting room of Emma’s house.  She smiled as she saw the tall Christmas tree in the corner, bedecked with lights and garland and all manner of  hook, swan, storybook and Disney character ornaments.

The smile slid from her face as she spied Emma and Henry sitting together at opposite ends of the sofa.  Henry played on his phone, earbuds in place while Emma slowly, gently placed Hook’s possessions in his chest. She hesitated as she reached Liam’s ring hanging from its chain.  She held it close, looking down at it, the tears coming to her eyes in spite of herself.

Beside her, Henry seemed to notice her distress.  He pulled the earbuds from his ears.  “Mom, you okay?”

Emma took a deep breath and decisively placed the ring in the trunk and closed the lid.  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered. “I have to be,” she added under her breath.  “Henry, can you take this out to the shed later?”

Henry nodded.  “Yeah, whatever you want.”

That was it?  That was all Henry had to say on the matter?  Clearly it was time for Jen to intervene again.

“Take a moment to think about this Emma, Henry,” Jen said.  “Look at what’s sitting before you.  Hook’s chest, filled with all his most prized possessions.  If he was going to leave you, why would he leave all of that behind?”

Jen saw a small glimmer of hope dawn in Emma’s eye, but just as quickly it disappeared.  “I don’t know, but I’ve already told you.  I have to face the facts.  Holding on to false hope only hurts worse.”

Beside her, Henry furled his brow.  “Jen’s got a point, mom,” he said, Jen nodded in satisfaction. Maybe the Truest Believer was ready to work his (metaphorical) magic once more.  “Killian spent two hundred years trying to avenge my grandma Milah.  Once he loves someone, he loves them forever.”

There was that tiny spark of hope in her eyes once more.  It lasted longer this time before it faded. “But sometimes love is not enough.  Seems that’s the case with Hook.”

“Mom, he literally went to hell for you,” Henry said.  “You two were proven True Love.  When Zeus wanted to send Killian to his ultimate reward–to the place he truly belonged–he sent him back to you.  You really think he gave all of that up over an argument?”

Emma took a moment to think this over and seemed to be on the verge of responding when there was a brisk knock on the door, and a moment later David and Regina strolled in.

“Regina…what the hell?” Emma asked, getting to her feet.

“Your Charming father and I have been talking,” Regina said, “and we’ve come to the conclusion that you’re being an idiot.”

“I’d like to point out for the record, that that is not  the conclusion I came to,” David said with an exasperated glare in the direction of his step-mother-in-law.  “I said that I thought your pain might be clouding your judgment.”

“Technicalities,” Regina said with a wave of the hand.

Emma rolled her eyes.  “As much as I’m enjoying the bickering at my expense,” she drawled, “is there a point to your visit?”

“We were thinking,” David said, stepping forward.  “How many times in this town has a villain screwed with things and made circumstances seem different than they are in order to despirit the heroes and further their plan?  How can we be sure Gideon didn’t, I don’t know, do something to make Killian leave?”

There was that hope in Emma’s eyes once more, and this time it stubbornly refused to fade.  “Do you really think that could be the case?” she asked.

“Of course!” Henry said, “and we know what Gideon’s trying to do!  He’s trying to separate Emma from all her sources of support before the final battle!  It would be just like him to get rid of Killian, her true love.”

“But…” Emma said, starting to protest once more, but far more weakly this time.

“Emma he’s your True Love, and that’s a special kind of magic,” David said, placing his hands on her arms.  “Don’t you at least owe him–and yourself–trying to figure out for sure?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Emma said, “but how?  Forget why he left.  We don’t even know where he went.”

Jen stepped up, looking at Regina.  “It’s Christmas time.  Surely there’s some sort of…I don’t know…enchanted Christmas ornament ro something that can help us out.”

“I don’t know about an ornament,” Regina said slowly, “but there is the legend of the Christmas wreath.”

“What legend is that, mom?” Henry asked.

“Well the evergreen wreath is a symbol of everlasting love, right?” Regina asked.  “You know, evergreens never shedding their green needles, the circle the symbol of that with no beginning or end, all of that?”

Emma shrugged.

“Well, apparently, at Christmastime, the wreath has a special, even greater magic,” Regina says.  “The magic of the season enhances its True Love properties, and, in short, if someone is True Love, it’s said they will be able to see their True Love in it, assuming they adorn it with something meaningful belonging to said True Love.”

“One problem,” Emma said.  “I don’t have a wreath.”

“But Grandma and Grandpa do!” Henry said excitedly.  “They made it together and it’s on their door!  That could work, couldn’t it?”

Regina groaned.  “Given how utterly sickening their True Love is, I’d say a wreath they lovingly made together might be the perfect option.”

“And as for something meaningful to Killian,” Emma said, reaching into the trunk and grasping Liam’s ring, “I’ve got the perfect thing.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” David asked with a broad smile.  “Let’s get back to the loft!”

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

“I don’t see anything,” Emma said dejectedly several minutes later.

Regina had poofed them directly to the loft, and Emma had wasted no time in draping Liam’s ring over her parents’ wreath before staring into the center of it.

“You have to believe, Emma,” Regina said, “truly believe in the strength and everlasting nature of your love.  You need to put all doubts from your mind.”

Emma took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked back through the center of the wreath.  She gasped, hearing him before she saw him.

“Emma? Emma are you there? I didn’t mean to leave. I was on my way back to you and Gideon, he sent me away.”

Slowly the picture began to emerge from within the wreath.  Killian seemed to be in some exotic place, a place in the desert.  If Emma wasn’t mistaken, he was standing beside…was that Ariel?...and he was speaking into what looked like a seashell.

“Seems he’s trying to communicate via ‘shell’ phone,” David grinned. Regina groaned and Emma shushed them both, concentrating on what she was hearing from the wreath…or shell…or whatever the hell was happening.

“I would never leave you. Emma. He wanted me out of the way, and I love you. I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m trying to get home to you, and I won’t ever stop until I do.”

Tears of relief filled Emma’s eyes and spilled down over her cheeks. “Killian?” she answered.  

Through the wreath, she saw him start and look down in wonder at the shell in his hand.  “Emma?  You’re there?”

“I’m here,” she said tearfully.  “I hear you.  I love you too!”

“I’m trying desperately to get home to you,” he said.  “Christmas is tomorrow, and I couldn’t bear to spend it without you.  Do you have any suggestions?”

Emma looked around at Regina.  “Anything more to that wreath legend?” she asked.  “Can it, like, transport someone?”

“Well,” Regina said slowly, “I suppose it’s possible, if he could find a wreath of his own and something of yours to tether them together.  Maybe the wreath could bring him home.”

“Are you there, love?” Killian asked.

“He can’t hear you?” Emma asked Regina.  

She shrugged.  “Well he’s not my True Love.”

Emma rolled her eyes before telling Killian what Regina had just conveyed to her.  It was a matter of just a moment to get everything arranged.  As luck would have it, Ariel had, among her tremendous collection of random things, a Christmas wreath, and Killian was able to tether it to Emma’s by adding her engagement ring to its boughs.

There was a flash of Christmas lights, and then he was there, back in the room with them.

Jen held her breath, knowing what was coming, thrilled at the prospect of being a witness to it.  She pulled back to give them a bit of privacy, even if she had no intention of withdrawing entirely from a scene of such great importance to her very favorite fictional couple.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” Killian said, taking her hand. “I should have told you what I did to your grandfather all those years ago, and I should never, never have even considered running away.

Jen noticed the tears in Emma’s eyes, her watery smile as she looked up at him. “It’s okay.  I didn’t exactly make it easy for you to tell me the truth.  Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She turned away, trying to pull him with her, but he held his ground.  “No,” he said, “no, there’s something I have to do before I get pushed into another portal and this time, I’m gonna do it the right way.”

Killian reached into his jacket pocket, wincing with the pain the movement caused his bruised body.  He pulled out the engagement ring and Jen noticed how brilliantly it shown in the light of the Christmas tree behind them.

“Swan,” he continued "I know that you face an uncertain future, but there’s one thing I want you to be certain of–that I will always, always be by your side.”  He sunk to one knee gazing up at her with every ounce of the love and adoration he felt for her. “So, Emma Swan, what do you say?  Will you marry me?”

While normally not nearly as exuberant as Krystal, it was only with great difficulty that Jen restrained herself from squealing.  The scene had been beautiful and romantic when she’d watched it on her TV screen–multiple times–but being there, in person–there were no words.

And then when Emma got to her knees beside him, took his face in her hands, gave him her yes and then kissed him tenderly, there was no way Jen could have held back her ecstatic sigh.

Neither Emma nor Killian, who were thoroughly engrossed with each other and cocooned in their love nor anyone else in the room heard or noticed as the snow swirled one last time to transport Jen back to the cabin.

[matraspuzzletebal]

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[evamattebal]

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[alatlompattinggi]

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[tinggimatraslompat]

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[cstveamaryllis]

CSOW : AMARYLLIS : DAY 5 : MENTORSHIP

“They did it because they loved me..”

[hargamatraspencaksilat]

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[snowbellewells]

@kmomof4 Oh Krystal, I was so excited for this first full-length chapter and you definitely didn’t disappoint! I was determined to read and review last night, but Fridays on a school week usually tackle me with sleep before I intend, and that happened to me last night as well. I’m here now though, and I am liking the setup as you get into some of the main plot and some of the characterizations and obstacles and such.

I have to confess, part of what has always entertained me in the idea of Ruby and Graham as a couple, is that she is just so “her” - bold and unapologetic and even a little wild - I’ve always figured she would make Graham blush, stammer, and be slightly embarrassed by her attentions- and yet love every bit of her dragging him out of his reserve. Though Ruby in this time and place is hardly “wild”, she is still a little much for him! 😂 We could see that in how she rambled and he couldn’t keep up and so on. But I feel like they are going to endear themselves to each other once they get to know each other a bit. Plus, I think Ruby is going to be the one to reach the kids; she’ll have a way with them and soon they’ll be thick as thieves - that’s my prediction.

I really felt for Ruby in feeling alone once Mary Margaret had married David. It wouldn’t feel nearly as bad to be single and termed an “old maid” or “spinster” if you weren’t going to be alone in it, but seeing her best friend fall happily in love had to make it seem a lot more lonely a prospect.

I am holding out a lot of hope that they’ll soon work past this awkward initial meeting though. Graham seemed totally in awe at his first sight of Ruby, and her observation of him was my favorite part of the chapter, even if she isn’t sure how favorable all of it is yet: “Ruby wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so she kept her silence, simply observing him as he looked out the window. He was taller than she expected. His sandy colored curls gave him an almost boyish look that Ruby did find utterly charming, even if his mannerisms left much to be desired. He was rather rough around the edges. From his letters, she expected him to be more suave and charming than he had been so far in person. His eyes were a clear blue and she knew if she wasn’t careful, she could become utterly lost in them.”

To Sir Graham, With Love Ch. 1

We're back with the first full length chapter!! I am so thrilled and thankful for the response this fic has gotten so far, but I am OVER THE MOON that Marta loves it so much already, since it was for her birthday that it was written!! Thank you all so much!!! I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think!!

Thank you again to @jrob64 and @whimsicallyenchantedrose for all their hard work betaing this thing and to @motherkatereloyshipper for her GORGEOUS and PERFECT artwork above!!!

Chapter Summary: Ruby arrives at Romney Hall and meets Sir Graham and his children.

Rating: M (smut, mentions of abuse)

Words: 7300 of almost 68k

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

On ao3 From beginning / Current Ch

On Tumblr Prologue

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Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

May 1824

 Somewhere on the road between London and Gloucestershire 

in the middle of the night.

~*~*~

Dear Miss Jones,

Thank you for your kind note of condolence on the loss of my wife. It was very thoughtful of you to take the time to write to a stranger over the loss of your cousin, whom you hadn’t seen in many years. I offer you this pressed flower as thanks. It is naught but the simple red campion (Silene dioica), but it brightens the countryside of my home and was Jacinda’s favorite flower.

Sincerely, 

Sir Graham Humbert

Ruby couldn’t see the actual words on the well worn sheet of paper sitting atop the small stack on her lap. It was too dark, even with the full moon shining through the windows of the carriage. Not that it mattered. She had every word memorized. And the pressed flower that had fallen out of the envelope before she’d even had a chance to read the first word, was kept safely inside the pages of her favorite book of poetry.

She hadn’t been terribly surprised when she’d received the return missive, but she had been surprised at the small gift. 

Ruby took her correspondence seriously - perhaps too seriously, according to her mother, Alice - but she enjoyed penning short notes to whichever of her siblings wasn’t in London at the time or to old friends she hadn’t seen in years. She liked to imagine their delight when opening her letters, and so she pulled out paper and quill daily for any number of occasions - births, deaths, or anything that deserved congratulations.

And while she almost always received some acknowledgement in return - she was a Jones, after all, and no one in the ton was keen to ignore or offend a Jones - the small gift from Sir Graham Humbert was the first of its kind she’d ever received. Ruby closed her eyes and brought the memory of the flower to the front of her mind. It was hard to imagine a man handling such a delicate blossom. Her four brothers were all strong and sturdy men with large hands and she knew any one of them would have mangled the fragile bloom in a heartbeat. She’d been intrigued by Sir Graham’s reply, particularly his use of the Latin, and she’d immediately penned her own response.

Dear Sir Graham -

Thank you so much for the charming pressed flower. I was very pleasantly surprised when it fell out of the envelope, and especially when you revealed it was Jacinda’s favorite. It is a lovely memento of her.

I couldn’t help but notice your facility with the Latin name of the bud. Are you a botanist?

Yours,

Miss Ruby Jones

It was perhaps a bit underhanded to end her letter with a question. Now Sir Graham would be forced to reply. He did not disappoint in that regard, his letter arriving only ten days after she’d sent hers.

Dear Miss Jones -

Indeed I am a botanist. Trained at Cambridge, although I am not now associated with any university or scientific board. I perform experiments here in my working greenhouse at Romney Hall.

Are you of a scientific bent as well?

Yours,

Sir Graham Humbert

The return question was quite thrilling - whether he felt obligated to ask it because she’d posed her own question first or he was simply eager to continue their correspondence, she wasn’t sure - and she wasted no time in composing her reply.

Dear Sir Graham - 

Heavens, no! I do not have a scientific mind, although I do have a fair head for numbers. I lean more toward the humanities. You may have noticed I enjoy writing letters.

Yours in friendship,

Ruby Jones

Ruby was almost hesitant to sign that letter so informally, but she decided to err on the side of boldness. Sir Graham was obviously enjoying the correspondence as much as she was, otherwise he wouldn’t have concluded his missive with a question. Her answer arrived a fortnight later.

My dear Miss Jones -

Your last valediction is true, isn’t it? We are developing a friendship of sorts through our correspondence. I must admit to a certain amount of isolation here in the country. But if one cannot have a smiling face across the breakfast table, an amiable letter is a gratifying substitute, wouldn’t you agree?

I have enclosed another flower for you. This one is Geranium pratense, more commonly known as the meadow cranesbill.

With great regard,

Graham Humbert

Ruby remembered the day well. She’d sat in her chair by the window in her bedchamber staring at the carefully pressed purple flower for hours. Was he attempting to court her? Through letters?

Then, one day - some months and many letters later - she received a missive unlike any of the others.

My dear Miss Jones -

We have been corresponding now for quite a while, and although we’ve never formally met, I feel a certain kinship with you and hope you feel the same.

I am writing to you today to invite you to visit me at Romney Hall. It is my hope that after a suitable period of time, we might decide we will suit and you will consent to be my wife.

Of course, should you agree to visit, you will be appropriately chaperoned. I will make immediate arrangements to bring my widowed aunt to Romney Hall.

I hope you will consider my proposal.

Yours, as always,

Graham Humbert

Ruby had immediately tucked the letter in a drawer, too shocked to even countenance his request. He wanted to marry someone he didn’t even know?

Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she admitted to herself the more she thought about it. They did rather know one another. After a year-long correspondence, they’d said more to each other than some members of the ton had during the course of their entire marriage.

But still, they’d never met.

Ruby thought back over all of the marriage proposals she’d received over the years since her debut. How many? At least six. And now, she couldn’t even remember why she’d turned down most of them. 

Perhaps the society matrons were right. Perhaps she was too particular. Too demanding. She’d end up a spinster. Who was she kidding? She was a spinster. One didn’t reach the age of eight and twenty without having that dreaded word whispered behind one’s back. Or thrown in one’s face.

But the fact was, she really didn’t mind her situation. She remembered a long ago conversation with her brother Killian, before he’d married Emma, when she told him she’d marry when she found someone worth tying herself down to. And after all these years out in society, she hadn’t found anyone who met that criteria as of yet.

It also didn’t help that her married siblings were all deeply in love with their respective spouses, and she just didn’t see herself settling for anything less.

She didn’t need someone who was perfect. She just needed someone who was perfect for her.

And as wonderful and loving as her family was, it was difficult to talk to any of them about any of this. Ruby adored her mother, but Alice had only in the last couple of years stopped urging Ruby to find herself a husband, and now she was rather reluctant to open the door again to her mother’s tenacious hope to see all of her children in happy and loving marriages. Her older brothers would be completely useless. Liam would probably take it upon himself to find her a suitable mate and then glower the poor man into submission. Killian was too much of a dreamer, and David… Well, David was something else altogether.

She might have asked Belle, her older sister, but whenever Ruby thought about how blissfully happy she was married to Will and mother to her brood of four, she thought she couldn’t possibly have any practical advice for someone in Ruby’s situation. Tink was half a world away in Scotland, and Tilly wasn’t yet on the shelf as Ruby was, and to tell the truth, Ruby just didn’t think her youngest sister had the maturity to really understand her thoughts and feelings on the matter.

And now, he wanted to meet. Ruby thought he must be mad. Why else would he want to ruin what was a perfect courtship? Because if ever there was a perfect man out there for her, it must be the Sir Graham Humbert of Ruby’s imagination. Since she’d never actually met him, she’d been able to construct him in her mind, using his letters as the skeleton and then fleshing him out as she saw fit.

The Joneses were a loud and boisterous family, and it was exceedingly difficult to keep a secret from them, but somehow, Ruby had managed to do so with Sir Graham. He was hers. 

But then, the impossible had happened. Mary Margaret Blanchard, her best friend since they were children, had married. And not only had she married, she’d married David. If the Thames had completely dried up, Ruby could not have been more surprised. And she was happy for them. Truly she was. They were her two favorite people in the world and to see them so happy together was something that brought her more joy than she ever thought possible. But it did leave a bit of a hole in Ruby’s heart.

Because when she thought of herself as an on-the-shelf spinster, Mary Margaret had always been there with her. 

And now she was alone.

Which made Sir Graham’s proposal - tucked away at the very bottom of her bundle of letters, at the bottom of the middle drawer, locked away in a newly purchased safebox, just so Ruby wouldn’t be tempted to look at it a dozen times a day - all the more intriguing.

More intriguing by the day, actually, as she grew more restless and dissatisfied with this life that, she had to admit in a bout of brutal self-honesty, she had chosen.

So one day, after visiting Mary Margaret and being informed by the butler that Mr. and Mrs. Jones were not receiving visitors, she made a decision. It was time to take her life into her own hands, time to control her own destiny. 

Mary Margaret had once compared Ruby to a dog with a bone once she got an idea in her head. And she had not been joking. It didn’t matter what it was about, once Ruby made a decision, not even the full force of the Jones clan - which was a formidable force indeed - could dissuade her from her chosen course.

She knew they’d never allow her to run off blindly to see a man she’d never formally met. Liam would insist on his coming to London to meet the entire family - a worse scenario for Sir Graham Ruby could not imagine. At least the men who’d sought her favor in the past were familiar with the societal expectations of the ton, but Sir Graham hadn’t set foot in London since his school days, nor had he ever participated in the social season. He’d be completely ambushed.

So the only other option was for her to travel in secret to Gloucestershire. If she told her family, if they didn’t forbid her from going, they’d insist on sending at least two of their number with her - likely her mother and Tilly - and there was no way on God’s green earth she’d be able to fall in love with Graham, or he with her, if those two were hanging around. Or even form a semi-affectionate attachment, which Ruby might seriously consider this time.

She decided to make her escape during her sister Belle’s ball. Her mother always insisted on being early when one of their family members was hosting an event, and if Ruby slipped away early on, she could be halfway to Gloucestershire before anyone in her family even realized she was gone.

So here she was rolling toward her future. Toward her destiny. She hoped. With nothing more than a few changes of clothing and a pile of letters written by a man she’d never met.

But a man she hoped she could love.

It was thrilling. 

It was terrifying.

It was, quite possibly, the most foolhardy thing she’d ever done in her life. And she had made her fair share of foolhardy decisions in her past. 

But it could also be her last chance at happiness.

She was growing fanciful. That was a bad sign. She needed to pull herself back and look at this adventure with all the practicality and pragmatism she’d always employed when making decisions. What did she really know about Sir Graham Humbert? He’d told her quite a bit over their year long correspondence –

He was thirty years of age, two years her elder. He’d attended Cambridge and studied botany. He’d been married to her fourth cousin, Jacinda, for eight years, which meant he’d been twenty-one at his wedding. He had sandy-colored, curly hair. He had all his teeth. He was a baronet. He lived at Romney Hall, a stone structure built about a century before near Tetbury, Gloucestershire. He liked to read scientific treatises and poetry but not novels or works of philosophy. He liked the rain. He liked the woods. His favorite color was green. He had never traveled outside of England. He did not like fish. 

Ruby snort laughed into her hand. “Surely a sound basis for marriage,” she muttered, before rehearsing the things she’d told him about herself in her letters.

She was twenty-eight. She had dark brown hair and all of her teeth. She had green eyes. She came from a very large and loving family. Her brother was a viscount. Her father had passed when she was a small child, brought down by a humble bee sting. She had a tendency to talk too much (Dear God… had she really put that in writing?). She liked to read novels and poetry, but certainly not scientific treatises or works of philosophy. She had traveled to Scotland. Her favorite color was red. She did not like mutton and positively detested blood pudding. 

Another snort laugh burst from her. Yes, she thought with no small amount of sarcasm, we are obviously made for each other. But just because she accepted his invitation, didn’t mean she had to marry him. She was merely coming to see if they would suit. She’d made no promises to him, after all. Her fingers drummed against her thigh, nervously. 

She had reason to be nervous. 

She had left home and all that was familiar to travel to the other side of England and no one knew. 

Not even Sir Graham.

Because in her haste to leave London, she’d failed to tell him she was coming. It wasn’t that she had forgotten, exactly, but more that she’d pushed the task aside until it was too late.

If she told him, she was committed to the plan. And she was, quite frankly, terrified of what she was doing and feared turning away in cowardice.

Besides, he was the one who requested she visit. He’d surely be happy to see her.

Wouldn’t he?

~*~*~

Graham rose from his bed and pulled open the draperies to another perfectly sunny day.

Perfect, he thought sardonically.

He’d spend the day in the greenhouse. Elbows deep in dirt. Where he could avoid thoughts of the mysterious Ruby Jones.

Thump.

Graham sighed as he looked to the ceiling. And thoughts of his children.

Since Jacinda died, he’d avoided all but the most necessary human interaction. And he must have alluded to that fact at some point in his letters to Miss Ruby Jones, and so when he’d sent off his proposal of not-quite-marriage-but-maybe-something-leading-up -to-it over a month ago, she must not have thought him serious or he’d completely misjudged her and had completely spooked the girl. Her silence since she must have received his letter had been deafening.

He had to admit to being somewhat befuddled at her lack of response. In the entire course of their correspondence, there had never been more than a fortnight between him sending off his letter, and receiving her reply. She could have at least written him a note and declined his invitation.

She was eight and twenty, quite obviously a spinster, and had been conversing with a stranger by letter for over a year. Surely she was a little desperate? Wouldn’t she appreciate the chance to marry? He had a home and respectable fortune. Plus, he was only thirty years of age. What more could she want?

She’d seemed the perfect solution to his problems.

THUMP.

He grimaced this time as he looked at the ceiling. He desperately needed a mother for Nicholas and Ava. Someone who could manage them and make them behave. And from what he’d gathered about her through their correspondence, she seemed the perfect candidate. Her letters led him to believe that she was open, honest, had abundant experience with children - with all the nieces and nephews she had - and possessed a decidedly sunny disposition, which, if one came right down to it, was the only thing he truly desired in a wife this time around.

THUMP!

That was the loudest yet. But their nurse was with them and she could always manage them better than he did. Whatever was causing the thumping, it was obviously large. Perhaps he could finish dressing quickly and get out of the house before they did too much damage. Then he could put them and their destructive tendencies from his mind. Yes, an excellent plan. Out of earshot, out of mind.

He finished dressing in under a minute and strode purposefully into the hall.

“Sir Graham! Sir Graham!”

Damn. His butler was after him now. Graham pretended he didn’t hear, never breaking his stride toward the stairs.

“Sir Graham!”

“Curse it,” he muttered, under his breath. There was no possible way to ignore that bellow, not without risking the entire staff whispering behind his back about his apparent hearing loss.

“Yes,” he said, turning slowly toward the man, “Gunning?”

“Sir Graham,” Gunning said, clearing his throat. “We have a caller.”

Graham could only stare at him, completely dumbfounded. “A what?”

“A caller, sir,” he repeated. “We used to receive callers. Don’t you remember?”

Graham rolled his eyes in annoyance. That was the thing about having servants who’d worked for the family since before one was born. They rather enjoyed employing sarcasm.

“And who is this caller?” he asked.

“I’m not entirely certain, sir.”

Graham stared incredulously at the man. “You’re not certain?” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t you ask? Isn’t that what butlers are supposed to do?”

“Inquire, sir?”

“Yes, inquire, Gunning.” Graham wondered if he was purposefully trying to see how red in the face his employer could get without collapsing in a fit of apoplexy. 

“I thought I would let you do so,” he replied mildly. “She is here to see you, after all.”

“As are all of our callers and that never stopped you before from ascertaining their identities before announcing them.”

“Well, actually, sir…”

“I’m quite certain…” Graham interrupted.

“We don’t have callers, sir,” Gunning finished, smiling broadly at having clearly won the verbal sparring match.

Graham was about to point out that they did have callers - the evidence of which was waiting for him downstairs at that very moment - but really, what was the point?

“Fine,” he ground out, thoroughly irritated. “I’ll go downstairs.”

“Excellent, sir.”

Graham turned from the man and resumed his path toward the stairs. A caller. Who would be calling? And at this time of the morning? No one had called in nearly a year, since the neighbors had finished making the obligatory condolence calls. He descended the stairs and turned into the entry hall.

He stopped short. Nearly stumbling.

For a tall, thin, quite young woman stood in his entryway. She had dark hair and when she turned to face him, he didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful face in all his born days. Her eyes, even from several feet away, were twin green pools he could surely drown in. 

And Graham did not, as one might imagine, even think the word drown lightly.

And then she opened her mouth.

“Sir Graham?” And before he could even nod in agreement, she continued, the words spilling from her mouth in a torrent. “I’m so terribly sorry to arrive unannounced, but I really had no other option, and to be honest, if I’d sent notice, it probably would have arrived behind me, making it really quite moot, as I’m sure you’ll agree, and…”

Graham blinked, quite certain he was supposed to be following what she was saying, but unable to actually hear when one word ended and the next began.

“... a long journey, and I’m afraid I didn’t sleep, and so I must beg you to forgive my appearance and…”

His head was spinning. Would it be rude if he sat down?

“... didn’t bring very much, but I had no choice, and…”

This had gone on for far too long, with no sign of an imminent conclusion. If he allowed her to speak for one moment longer, he was quite certain he’d suffer from an inner ear imbalance, or she would soon swoon from lack of oxygen and hit her head on the marble floor. Either way, one of them would be injured and in debilitating pain.

“Madam,” he said, clearing his throat.

If she heard him, she gave no indication, instead commenting on the coach that had conducted her to his doorstep.

“Madam,” he said again, a little louder this time.

“... but then I…” She blinked her gorgeous green eyes at him and Graham felt decidedly unbalanced. “Yes?” she asked.

Now that he had her attention, he quite forgot the reason he’d sought it. “Er,” he mumbled, “who are you?”

She stared at him for a good five seconds, her full lips slightly open in surprise, before answering him. 

“I’m Ruby Jones, of course.”

Ruby was fairly certain she was talking too much, and she was definitely talking too fast, but she tended to do that when she was nervous and she was absolutely as nervous as she’d ever been in her life, because Sir Graham Humbert stood before her and he was not at all what she’d expected.

“You’re Ruby Jones?” 

She looked up into his disbelieving face and felt the first stirring of annoyance. “Of course, I am. Who else would I be?”

“I could not possibly imagine.”

“You did invite me,” she pointed out.

“And you did not respond to my invitation,” he replied.

She swallowed. He did have a point. A rather good one, if she wanted to be fair. Which she didn’t. Not at the moment, anyway.

“I… didn’t really have time to do so,” she hedged, then when it seemed that he required more explanation, she added, “as I mentioned earlier.”

He stared at her an inordinate amount of time before speaking. “I didn’t understand a word you said.”

Her mouth dropped open in… surprise? No. Annoyance. “Weren’t you listening?”

“I… tried…”

Ruby pursed her lips. “Very well, then.” She counted to five in her head. In Latin. “My apologies for arriving unannounced. It was terribly ill-bred of me.”

He was silent for a full three seconds - Ruby counted that as well - before replying. “I accept your apology.” He paused and Ruby cleared her throat. “And of course…” he coughed, glancing around the entry hall as if looking for someone to save him from the awkwardness of the situation, “I am delighted that you are here.”

It would probably be quite rude for her to point out that he appeared to be anything but delighted, so Ruby stood silently, trying to decide what she could say without insulting him. It was truly a sad state of affairs when she realized she couldn’t think of a blasted thing.

Sir Graham pointedly looked at her valaise sitting on the floor. “Is that… all your luggage?” he asked.

“Uh, yes,” she replied, perhaps a bit too hastily. “Yes,” she repeated, nodding her head decisively. “I didn’t really…” She cut herself off completely as it occurred to her that it might not be the best idea to reveal to Sir Graham that she’d essentially run away from home in order to visit him. After a brief pause, she cleared her throat and spoke again. “This is all I have.”

“Gunning,” Sir Graham shouted. The man appeared so quickly he must have been eavesdropping.

“Yes, sir?”

“Please prepare a room for Miss Jones.”

“I have already done so, sir,” the butler assured him.

Sir Graham’s cheeks colored slightly. “Very good. She will be staying…” he turned back toward her, a slightly confused and questioning look on his countenance. “How long will you be staying?” he asked.

“A fortnight?” It was more of a question than she would have liked, but it seemed like a reasonable amount of time for their purposes.

“A fortnight,” Sir Graham repeated, as if Gunning hadn’t heard her answer himself. “We will, of course, do everything in our power to make her stay as comfortable as possible.”

“Of course,” the butler agreed.

“Good.” Sir Graham looked around, seemingly quite at a loss of what to say or do next. Ruby had to admit that this first meeting was most inauspicious. She’d rather thought of him as similar in aspect to her brother David - jovial, charming, always knew exactly what to say to put anyone at ease. But in truth, Sir Graham looked most uncomfortable in her presence, and given that the purpose of this visit was to see if they would suit for marriage, Ruby was quite disappointed.

“Would you like to sit down?” Sir Graham blurted out.

“That would be most welcomed. Thank you,” she assured him, trying for a benign smile, but fearing she failed completely.

Sir Graham strode forward and offered her his arm. As she took it, a loud clearing of a throat sounded from behind them. Sir Graham scowled at the butler over his shoulder.

“Perhaps you’d like to order some refreshments?” Gunning asked. “A tea tray perhaps? With muffins?” He turned his attention more fully on Ruby before he continued. “Or if Miss Jones is hungry, I could have a more extensive breakfast prepared.”

“I… am hungry,” she admitted. “Breakfast would be lovely.” Ruby felt more than saw Sir Graham’s gaze on her as she smiled at a beaming Gunning.

“We’ll wait in the drawing room,” Sir Graham informed him before leading her from the hall into a tastefully decorated, but somewhat shabby room. Ruby looked around, eager to see how a man like Sir Graham lived. What he surrounded himself with. One could tell much about a person by the kind of home they lived in.

The room was neat, and very clean, but the furnishings inside looked worn. As if the owner was either short on funds or just didn’t care. The entire house had a vague neglected feel to it, but the grounds - she’d noticed as the carriage approached - were magnificent. Given that Sir Graham was a botanist, she wasn’t terribly surprised about the condition of the grounds, or the house.

The man clearly needed a wife.

Ruby sat on a striped green damask sofa and folded her hands in her lap. Sir Graham sat across from her in a matching chair, but couldn’t seem to get comfortable - crossing one leg over the other, then switching after just a few seconds. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here, and like he desperately wanted to curse. She smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging manner, waiting for him to engage her in conversation.

He cleared his throat. 

Ruby leaned forward, expectantly.

He cleared his throat again.

She coughed.

He cleared his throat once more.

“I’m sure breakfast may take a bit,” she said, with a brief smile. “Perhaps you should ring for some tea in the meantime?”

“Right,” he agreed. Rising quickly, he rang the bell and asked for a tea tray to be brought in as soon as possible.

Once he settled in his seat again, Ruby spoke. “I am terribly sorry for arriving unannounced,” she murmured, although she’d already said as much. Twice. But she couldn’t just sit there and not say anything. Sir Graham might be used to awkward silences, but Ruby was of the firm belief that silences were unnatural things, begging to be filled.

“It’s quite alright,” he replied.

“It really isn’t,” she interjected. “It was terribly ill-mannered of me, and I do apologize.”

He stared at her. To Ruby he looked almost startled. Perhaps at her frankness?

“Thank you,” he acknowledged. “It truly is no problem, I assure you. I was simply…”

“Surprised?”

“Yes,” he agreed.

Ruby cut her eyes away from him and shrugged. “Well, anyone would be. And I am truly sorry for the inconvenience.”

“It is no inconvenience,” he assured her. “Truly. I did invite you, after all.” Ruby heartily agreed with the sentiment, but she wasn’t about to say so and make an already awkward situation that much worse. He glanced out the window. “It’s a sunny day.”

“Mmm, yes,” she agreed.

“It will probably rain by nightfall, though.”

Ruby wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so she kept her silence, simply observing him as he looked out the window. He was taller than she expected. His sandy colored curls gave him an almost boyish look that Ruby did find utterly charming, even if his mannerisms left much to be desired. He was rather rough around the edges. From his letters, she expected him to be more suave and charming than he had been so far in person. His eyes were a clear blue and she knew if she wasn’t careful, she could become utterly lost in them.

“Did you travel all night?” he asked, politely.

“I did, actually.”

“You must be tired.”

She nodded and fought the quite urgent need to yawn. “I am.”

Sir Graham stood immediately and motioned toward the door. “If you would prefer to rest, I don’t wish to hold you here…”

Ruby was exhausted, but she was also ravenously hungry. “I would actually like to eat something, first, if it is quite alright,” she interrupted. “Then I’d be very pleased to accept your hospitality and rest.”

He took his seat again and seemed to be casting about for something else to say. “Was your journey pleasant?”

Ruby had to give him credit for at least attempting to keep the conversation going. “It was. Thank you.” One good turn deserved another, she supposed. “You have a lovely home.” He gave her a look that told her plainly he didn’t believe her words for a minute. “The grounds are magnificent.” Who would have believed that a man would notice the condition of the furniture in his home? None of the men of Ruby’s acquaintance - including her four brothers - would have.

“Thank you,” he said. “As you know, I am a botanist, so I spend much of my time out of doors.”

“Were you planning on working outside today?”

He nodded.

“I am sorry for disrupting your schedule,” she apologized again, chagrined.

“You really don’t have need to keep apologizing,” he said softly. “For anything.” His words may have sounded a bit rude, but the gentle smile on his face belied that sentiment and Ruby found herself smiling back.

The silence descended again, with both of them looking around, hoping that either the tea tray would soon make an appearance or that Gunning himself would come through the door with the longed for announcement of breakfast. 

He didn’t.

Ruby opened her mouth to speak - with no idea of what might come out of it, but fully intending to make it up as she went along - when a high pitched scream pierced the awkward silence.

Ruby jumped to her feet. “What was that?”

Sir Graham released a ragged sigh. “My… children.”

Ruby’s jaw dropped. “Your… children?” she asked, incredulously, her head tilted slightly in disbelief. “You have children?”

He slowly rose to his feet. “Of course.”

She gaped at him. “You never said you had children.”

“I didn’t?” he asked, his face puzzled.

“No, you did not,” Ruby assured him.

“Hmmm, that’s odd.” Sir Graham’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her again. “Is that a problem?” he asked sharply.

“Of course it isn’t!” she exclaimed, bristling. “I’ve told you about all my nieces and nephews and I can assure you, I am their favorite aunt.”

“I’m sure I told you about my children,” he continued, his patronizing attitude only fanning the flames of her temper. “You must have overlooked it.”

“You most certainly did not tell me about your children, and I can prove it.”

He crossed his arms, waiting. Ruby marched out into the hallway to find her valaise.

“Where is my…”

“Probably already in your room,” Sir Graham interrupted. “My servants aren’t that inattentive.”

Ruby turned back to him, her blood boiling. “I have every single one of your letters in my valaise, and not one of them contains the words my children.”

Sir Graham’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You saved my letters?”

“Of course. Didn’t you save mine?”

He blinked. “Uhhh…”

Ruby gasped. “You didn’t save them?”

Graham had never understood women and half the time was quite willing to put aside all current medical thought and simply declare them a separate species altogether. He fully accepted that he rarely knew what to say to them, but in this instance, even he knew he had blundered. Badly. 

“I’m sure I have some of them,” he tried.

Her jaw clamped down into an angry straight line.

“Most of them, I’m sure,” he added hastily.

She looked furious. Ruby Jones obviously possessed a formidable will.

“It’s not that I would have disposed of them,” he said, still trying to dig his way out of the pit in which he found himself. “I’m just not sure, precisely, where I would have stored them.”

He watched as Ruby gained control of her temper, though her eyes were still bright and angry. “Very well,” she said. “It hardly signifies, anyway.”

At least they agreed on one thing, though even Graham was smart enough not to say so. Besides, her tone completely belied her words. It obviously signified a great deal to her.

Another scream rent the air, followed by a loud crash. It sounded like furniture. Ruby looked to the ceiling, as if expecting a shower of plaster at any moment.

“Shouldn’t you go to them?” she asked.

Graham sighed. He should. But God above, he didn’t want to. When the twins were out of control, he found it easier to let them run wild until exhaustion overtook them. Thankfully, that usually didn’t take too terribly long. But as he was trying to woo - however clumsily thus far - the fair Miss Ruby Jones to his side in matrimony and into the position of mother to the two hellions currently trying to destroy his ancestral home brick by brick, it would not do to appear to be a disinterested parent.

With a nod at Miss Ruby Jones, he strode from the room and to the bottom of the stairs.

“Nicholas! Ava!” he bellowed.

A sound of shocked surprise burst out of Miss Jones, and Graham shot her a glare. He supposed she thought she could do better handling them. Although, truth be told, she probably could. God above, if she could get them to mind, he’d kiss the very ground she walked upon on a thrice daily schedule for as long as they both should live.

He hollered for the twins again and they suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs and descended with alacrity, not looking in the least chagrined.

“What,” Graham began, struggling to hold on to his temper, “was that?”

“What was what?” Nicholas asked, his eyes round and unblinking.

Graham could feel his nostrils flare indignantly. “The screaming.”

“That was Ava,” he informed him. Ava nodded enthusiastically.

Graham waited, his eyebrow raised in inquiry. When no further explanation seemed forthcoming, he asked them, “And why was Ava screaming?”

“It was a frog,” she explained.

“A frog.”

She nodded. “In my bed.”

“In your bed?” Graham asked, thoroughly confused. “How did it get there?” he asked, turning his eyes on Nicholas.

“I put it there,” Ava chirped, somewhat proudly in Graham’s opinion.

Graham blinked. “You. Put the frog in your own bed. Did I hear you correctly?”

Both twins nodded.

Why why why? He cleared his throat. “Why?” he asked aloud.

“I wanted to.”

Graham turned his gaze to heaven. “You wanted to.” Was there some maddening echo in the room?

“I wanted to grow tadpoles.”

“In your bed?”

She nodded vigorously. “It seemed warm and cozy.”

“I helped,” Nicholas informed him, apparently tired of being left out of the conversation.

Graham sighed. “Of that I have no doubt. But why did you scream?”

“I didn’t, Ava did,” Nicholas informed him indignantly.

“I know that! I was asking her!” Graham exclaimed, barely keeping himself from throwing up his hands in surrender and escaping to his greenhouse.

“You were looking at me, sir,” Nicholas said. “When you asked the question.”

Graham took a deep breath and schooled his features into what he hoped was a patient expression. “Why, Ava, did you scream?”

“I forgot I put it in there,” she replied.

“I thought she was going to die,” Nicholas added, with all the dramatics he could muster.

Graham decided not to pursue that particular statement. He crossed his arms across his chest and leveled his sternest face at his children. “I thought,” he began, “that we had agreed, no frogs in the house.”

Both children shook their heads vehemently. Graham raised an eyebrow in question. “We agreed no toads,” Nicholas said.

“No amphibians of any kind,” Graham said between clenched teeth.

“But what if one of them is dying?” Ava asked, her green eyes filling with tears.

“Not even then.”

“But…”

“You may tend to it outside.”

“Where it’s cold and freezing and it only needs a little warmth and care inside the house?”

“Frogs are supposed to be cold and freezing,” Graham exclaimed. “That's why they’re amphibians!”

“But what if…”

“NO!” he bellowed. “No frogs, toads, crickets, grasshoppers, or animals of any kind in the house!”

Ava started gasping for air and Nicholas’ eyes were round with alarm. “But but but… what about Bessie?”

“Oh, for the love of…” he caught himself before he blasphemed and tried not to roll his eyes. He didn’t know what to say to his children on the best of occasions, of which, this was most certainly not, but now his daughter looked as if she might dissolve into a puddle of tears. He would have liked very much for a wall to sag against at this moment. “Naturally, I did not mean for our beloved spaniel to be included in that statement.”

“Well, I wish you had said so,” she sniffed. “You made me very sad.” Nicholas nodded in agreement.

Graham shut his eyes briefly. How had he lost control of the conversation so quickly and thoroughly? “I’m sorry I made you sad.” He would have thought a man of his size, and, he hoped, intellect, would be able to manage two eight-year-olds, but no. Despite his best intentions, the tables were turned, and he was apologizing to them.

Nothing made him feel more like a failure.

“Right then,” he said briskly, eager to be done with the confrontation. “Run along. I’m very busy.”

They stood there for a moment, just looking up at him with wide unblinking eyes. “All day?” Nicholas asked.

“All day?” Graham repeated. What the devil was he talking about?

“Are you going to be busy all day?” he asked again.

“Yes,” he said sharply.

“We could go on a nature hike,” Ava suggested.

“I can’t today,” Graham replied, although he did want to. But the twins were so vexing, they were sure to make him lose his temper and there was nothing that frightened him more.

“We could help you in the greenhouse,” Nicholas added.

Destroy was more like it. “No,” Graham said. He honestly didn’t think he could answer to his temper if they ruined his work.

“But…”

“I can’t,” he snapped, hating the tone of his own voice.

“But…”

“And who is this?” came a voice from behind him. A voice belonging to a woman he had nearly forgotten about. Now his ire was directed toward her, poking her nose in a situation that was none of her concern, and this after arriving on his doorstep without a word of warning.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, turning to her and not bothering to hide his irritation.

She ignored him and focused her attention on the twins.

“And who might you be?” she asked.

“Who are you?” Nicholas demanded right back. Ava’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

Graham crossed his arms and tried to smother the smile that wanted to break through. Yes, he thought, let’s see how Miss Jones handles this.

“I am Miss Jones,” she introduced herself.

“You’re not our new governess, are you?” Nicholas asked, with a surprising amount of venom in his tone.

“Heavens no!” Miss Jones exclaimed. “What happened to your last governess?”

Graham coughed. Loudly.

“Er, nothing,” the twins intoned, in unison.

Miss Jones looked like she didn’t believe their assurances for a moment, but she wisely chose not to pursue it and simply stated, “I am your guest.”

The twins pondered that for a moment, and then Ava said, “We don’t want any guests.”

Followed by Nicholas’s “We don’t need any guests.”

“Children!” Graham interjected, shocked by their rudeness. He didn’t necessarily want to be taking Miss Jones’ side after she poked her nose where it didn’t belong, but he couldn’t allow his children to behave this way.

The twins folded their arms over their chests and refused to look at her.

“That’s it,” Graham boomed. “You will apologize to Miss Jones, at once!”

They stared at her mutinously.

���NOW!” he roared.

“Sorry,” they both mumbled, but only an imbecile would believe they meant it.

“Back to your room, both of you,” he said sternly.

They marched off like a pair of proud soldiers. It would have been rather impressive if Ava hadn’t ruined the effect by turning at the top of the stairs and sticking her tongue out at Miss Jones, before running away as quickly as a fox.

Graham stood at the bottom of the stairs, very still for several moments, struggling to keep himself under control. Just once, JUST ONCE, he would like his children to behave. And mind. And be polite to guests. And not stick out their tongues…

Just once he’d like to feel like a good father, and that he knew what he was doing.

Just once he’d like to not raise his voice. He hated when he raised his voice, hated the flash of terror he imagined he saw in their eyes when he did. Hated the memories it brought back.

“Sir Graham?”

He closed his eyes in frustration. He’d nearly forgotten she was there. 

“Yes?” he asked, turning toward her, mortified that she’d witnessed his humiliation.

“The tea tray has arrived,” she informed him gently.

He gave her a curt nod. He needed to get out of the house. Away from his children. Away from this woman who’d just seen him at his worst. It had started to rain, but he didn’t care.

“I hope you enjoy your breakfast,” he bit out. “I’ll see you after you have rested.” With that, he all but ran out the front door to his greenhouse where he’d be surrounded by his non-speaking, non-misbehaving, and non-meddlesome plants.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! I'll be posting on Saturday's from here on out!

[citilivyclovekonline]

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Téměř 5000 let poté, co byl obdařen všemocnou mocí egyptských bohů – a stejně rychle uvězněn – je Citlivý clovek vysvobozen ze svého pozemského hrobu a připraven rozpoutat v moderním světě svou jedinečnou formu spravedlnosti

Hrají Citlivý clovek (2023)

Karel Roden, Vica Kerekes, Martin Myšička, Lukáš Latinák, Juraj Kemka, Štepánka Fingerhutová, Jaroslav Dušek, Ester Geislerová, Vlado Černý, Anna Šišková, Jiří Dvořák, Tomáš Měcháček, Martin Pechlát, Eva Leimbergerová, Zdeněk Maryška, Tomáš Matonoha, Eva Landlová, Zuzana Kraváriková, Oliver Oswald, Daniel Olbrychski, Marta Żmuda-Trzebiatowska, Magdalena Nieć, Przemysław Kapsa, Michal Maléř, Nico Santini.

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Nové a staré filmy jsou také k dispozici na našem webu.

Můžete si také vybrat více v kvalitě HD filmu.

Dostupné v češtině a na Slovensku a v dalších zemích.

Dobrá kvalita obrazu a čistý zvuk.

Stream můžete sledovat nebo si jej stáhnout.

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[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Girls' Trip Fairy Tale Ending--Chapter 5 of 5

Summary:  This is my combined birthday gift for Joni (  @jrob64​  ), Marta ( @snowbellewells ) and Krystal ( @kmomof4 ).  Happy birthday ladies! Four fandom friends are nearing the end of their annual girls’ trip when they’re suddenly visited by Isaac, the author before Henry.  He gives them an each a gift–an opportunity to jump into any scene in the storybook they want and fix it.  Large focus on CS, although other characters and relationships will be explored.  A big shoutout to @hollyethecurious​ and @winterbaby89 for betaing!

Word Count: 1090

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew @annaamell @flslp877 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay

@ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch

@missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615

@laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04

@nickillian  @gillie  @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4  

@linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious

@laughswaytoomuch  @allyourdarlingswans  @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight,

@lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree  @jrob64  @anmylica   @booksteaandtoomuchtv​ @elfiola

Other chapters:  (1) (2) (3) (5)

Can also be found on: (ao3) (ff.net)

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

Note: I know it's been forever since I posted (and you've probably forgotten what this fic is all about by now), but in the spirit of the thing, I decided to post on the last birthday of our group--which happens to be mine! I hope you enjoyed our adventures!

Epilogue

And with Jen’s return to the cabin, the fairytale adventure came to a close.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Jen said, “but for me, that is by far the best way to watch Once Upon a Time.  You get to meet the characters, fix plot holes, and experience the Happily Ever After.”

There were unanimous choruses of agreement all around.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves,” Isaac said with a roll of his eyes, “but I hope you also learned something.  I hope you all learned that my job is harder than you thought it was–that when you change one thing, there is an entire cascade of unforeseen effects.”

“Is that really a bad thing?” Jen mused. “When the original trajectory was stupid, changes are a good thing.”

“Speaking of,” Krystal said, “can we finally talk about our experiences?”

Isaac sighed. Loudly. “Fine, but no cheating!  You have to disclose all of it, not just the things you liked, but the ways it changed the story, the ripple effects it had, the boring moments, the epic romantic moments that no longer happened.”

“Can you wrap this up?” Joni asked, “or is this lecture going to go on for a while, because if it is, I’m going to bed.”

Isaac sighed again.  “Just get on with it.”

“Gladly,” Joni said. “I went back to the beanstalk.”

There was a chorus of excited voices at that revelation, being, after all, a very significant moment in the Captain Swan journey.

“So what did you do?” Jen asked. “How did you change it?”

“I convinced Emma to go back and free Killian,” Joni answered. “How about the rest of you?”

“I saved Graham’s life,” Marta said with a sound that was half-way between a sigh and a giggle.

“There’s a shock,” Krystal said.

“How did you make that work with the story?” Jen asked.

“I really didn’t have to do much,” Marta said.  “I got Henry to distract Regina, and then I took back Graham’s heart. I got to put it back!  Then he kissed my hand and used a Killian line on me.”

“And you’re still alive to tell the tale?” Joni asked.

“Barely,” Marta said, clapping her hands and giggling again, “but it was touch and go for a little while.  Anyway, Emma decided she liked Graham, but she wasn’t sure she was in love with him. Then Regina got mad and banished Graham to the mental asylum. Then Ruby and Graham fell in love and lived happily ever after.”

There was a universal chorus of oos and ahs at that.  The consensus was that that would have, indeed, made for a better story.

“I went back to season six,” Jen said, when the discussion died down.  

“How could you possibly pick one scene from that hot mess to fix?” Krystal asked?

“Wasn’t easy,” Jen answered.  “Hot mess indeed.  Ultimately, I would have liked to change the entire arc with Killian killing David’s dad and all that came after that.  After all, that made no sense at all.  Since when would Killian kill someone to keep them from telling people he killed the king’s soldiers?  Wouldn’t that enhance his pirate street cred?”

“I needed one more conflict between them before their happily ever after!” Isaac said defensively.

“One, why?” Jen asked, “and two, if you needed one, you could have actually made it necessary to the plot and not just angst for angst’s sake.”

“Well…well…” Isaac spluttered, “that’s not even the scene you picked, so why are we even talking about this?”

“Because you need to hear it,” Jen answered.  “Anyway, I decided what bugged me the most about that whole arc was that Emma immediately believed he’d left her, and everyone else in her life just….went with it.  I talked some sense into all of them.  Oh, and I made it Christmastime–which let them bring Killian home with a little Christmas magic.”

“Well, of course, you can make things work out when you just randomly introduce a magical item!” Isaac exploded.

“You’re complaining about magical MacGuffins?” Joni asked. “May I introduce you to…any of your writing?”

Isaac grumbled under his breath, and then turned to Krystal.  “All right.  Let’s get this over with.  Time for you to tell us about your adventure.”

Krystal shrugged and gave him an evil grin.  “I killed off Neal.”

“Naturally,” Jen said.  “I assume there was pain?”

“Do you know me at all?” Krystal tossed back. “Of course there was pain.  Lots of it.  And screaming.”

“So Rumple didn’t absorb him?” Marta asked.

“Nope, and almost nothing ended up changing,” Krystal said.  “Except Snowing’s baby’s name, of course.”

Jen, Joni and Marta gave her blank stares.

“What does Neal’s death have to do with the baby’s name?” Marta asked.

“Without Neal around to be a ‘hero’,” she explained, “they ended up naming him Graham.

The blank stares continued.

“Oh come on ladies,” Krystal said, “I thought that would be your favorite part.  No one, and I mean no one liked that they named their son Neal.”

“What?” Joni asked.  “Why would they name their son Neal?  Who would name their son after their daughter’s ex-boyfriend who sent her to jail and broke her heart?”

“Exactly!” Krystal agreed.  Looking around, she noticed the other ladies were still giving her odd looks.  “Wait….you mean that’s NOT how you remember it?”

“No!” Marta said emphatically.  “There was a lot I loved about the CS movie, but the thing that always brought tears to my eyes was the naming ceremony when they named their baby after Graham and talked about how much of a hero he was.  It was just…”  There was the giggle sigh again.

Krystal looked over at Isaac, and he shrugged. “Far be it from me to deny it when I’m wrong.  Neal was a stupid naming choice.”

“You’ve got that right,” Jen said.

With a dramatic sigh, Isaac shook his head and threw up his hands.  “I give up.  Clearly there’s no reasoning with fanfiction writers.  Enjoy the rest of your trip, I guess.  And next year?  Lay off of the head trauma.  By my count you knocked Will upside the head seven times in your story. Gave me a headache just reading it.”

And with that, he was engulfed in a puff of smoke, and a moment later, there was no sign that he’d ever been there.  No sign, that is, but the excited chattering of the four ladies in the cabin who discussed their adventures long into the night.