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aarlone · 1 year

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My resolution for 2022 was pretty simple - all I wanted was to keep track of the books I read over the course of the year. I tracked them all over on Instagram as I finished each book, and last night I finished book #24 (ETA I was able to get one more book in for 2022 and added it to the list).

Nearly all of these books were found through the Queer Science Fiction and Fantasy database, which is an excellent resource for finding books with prominent queer characters. Some of them are just from authors I already liked, but happened to have queer characters anyway, which was nice. I think books 10, 11, 17, and 23 are the only ones that don't have explicitly queer representation, though I have seen people online suggesting that the protags of 17 and 23 are aro/ace.

I also was able to get nearly all of these books through my local library, as well (technically, I could include the two books I already owned, since they are both rereads that I got originally from the library).

So here's the list all in one place, with some notes on them if I feel like it.

The Stone Sky, by N. K. Jemisin

Blackfish City, by Sam J. Miller - I kind of want to read more cyberpunk like this

The Raven Tower, by Ann Leckie - this had a ton of elements that are extremely my jam, and I enjoyed reading this book a lot.

The Mask of Mirrors, by M. A. Carrick

Magic For Liars, by Sarah Gailey

Call Down the Hawk, by Maggie Stiefvater

Karen Memory, by Elizabeth Bear

Red-Stained Wings, by Elizabeth Bear

Together We Will Go, by J. Michael Straczynski - JMS has been destroying me emotionally since high school. I loved this book, but I needed something much, much lighter afterward.

The Sorceress and the Cygnet, by Patricia A. McKillip - this, and its sequel, are favorites of mine since middle school. I realized during this re-read that the character of Lauro Ro might be read as being aromantic, though I think it would be hard to say definitively.

The Cygnet and the Firebird, by Patricia A. McKillip

The Queens of Innis Lear, by Tessa Gratton

The First Sister, by Linden A. Lewis

In the Ravenous Dark, by A. M. Strickland - this book was probably the most horny of all the books I read this year. I liked it, but damn is it horny.

The Collapsing Empire, by John Scalzi - Scalzi's so reliable for me. The Interdependency Cycle books are just my flavor of sci-fi.

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, by V. E. Schwab

Middle Game, by Seanan McGuire

The Black God's Drums, by P. Djèlí Clark

When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain, by Nghi Vo - this and The Black God's Drums are both closer to novellas, but I'm still counting them. When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain was excellent, and I read it in one sitting while at the laundromat.

Winter's Orbit, by Everina Maxwell - it took a bit for me to get into, but I dug it - my kind of sci-fi, but not quite as much of a popcorn read as Scalzi, if you get my meaning. A bit heavier.

This Golden Flame, by Emily Victoria

Iron Widow, by Xiran Jay Zhao - one of the best books I read this year, this absolutely ruled.

Not Even Bones, by Rebecca Schaeffer

The Consuming Fire, by John Scalzi

Full Fathom Five, by Max Gladstone

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uservillanelle · 11 months

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Congratulations, JODIE COMER, 76th Tony Awards Winner in Best Leading Actress in a Play category as Tessa Ensler in Prima Facie play by Suzie Miller!

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hottpinkpenguin · 1 year

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Joel Miller X Fem!Reader - Last of Us - Part 2

A/N: read part 1 here!

Warnings: hints of sexual violence (no descriptions); dark themes; post-apocalyptic dystopia; death of reader's minor child; probably a lot of non-canon details since I've never played the game; not proofread; spoilers if you haven't seen the show/played the game Word Count: 2650 Abbreviations: QZ = quarantine zone; FDRA "Fedra" = Federal Disaster Response Agency

----

“You look like hell, Joel.”

“K.”

Tessa looked Joel up and down, making a point to grimace as she did.

“What, am I too ugly to do business with or something?” Joel’s tone was biting, his patience running thin. The restlessness in his bones was gnawing something awful today.

“Where’d your pet go?”

Joel’s stare was flat, but Tessa knew him well enough to see the slight jump in his jaw muscle as he clenched his teeth momentarily.

“My pet?”

“Yeah, that sad sack with the dead kid.”

Joel’s knuckles turned white on the back of the chair he was leaning on.

“What are you talk-”

“Oh come on, Joel. Don’t act like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like every other stupid fuck around here.” Tessa gestured around the dimly lit basement where she’d met Joel for the swap. They were alone, but Joel knew who she was referring to. Her crew. Good at stealing, running, and turning profits, but not amusing to her the way he was. Joel didn’t react, he just kept staring at her.

“It’s my job to know what my guys are up to,” Tessa pointed out as if she were explaining something to a young child.

“I’m not one of your guys,” Joel countered through gritted teeth. “The only thing we need to know about each other is what I have and what you’ll pay for it.” He looked pointedly at the half-smoked pack of cigarettes, sawed off shotgun, and car battery on the table between them.

Tessa chewed on the inside of her lip as she looked up at him. The bare lightbulb overhead cast harsh shadows on her face.

“That wasn’t always true, though.” Her voice was softer now, a hint of playfulness in her tone. An invitation. She smirked up at him coquettishly. Joel shook his head, trying to shake out the memories that expression brought to mind.

“That was a mistake, Tessa.”

“A good one, though. Sometimes good mistakes are worth making a few times.”

Joel shook his head, exhaling softly. He should have known better. Never put your prick where you put your money.

“No, Tessa.”

“Come on, Joel. Just for old time’s sake.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Tessa’s eyes turned from flirtatious to bitter as the smile melted from her lips.

“So she was your pet.”

Joel felt himself tense up. This was a game that he really didn’t want to play. Tessa was a dangerous woman. He’d done well to stay on her good side for so many years, but this had been a serious miscalculation. He shouldn’t have plucked at her jealousy by bringing you into the mix.

“She wasn’t anything,” he insisted. He kept his tone even, forced himself to hold Tessa’s accusing gaze. Tessa had a good bullshit meter, but she was blind when it came to Joel. He’d used that a few times before, but this was a moment when it really mattered. He couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk you.

A heavy tension settled between them as Tessa took a drag of her cigarette. Joel swallowed down a surge of anger at the oblique threat to your safety.

“Fine.” Tessa stood up quickly, tamping out the end of her cigarette on the table and surveying its contents. “I’ll give you eight for the lot.”

Joel ran a hand through his graying hair in exasperation.

“That’s less than half of what we agreed on.”

“Yeah, it is.” Tessa knocked on the metal door behind her. It swung open, two of her lackeys swooping in to scoop up the contraband that Joel had brought her. Tessa grabbed a duffel bag from one of them, unzipping a side pocket and rifling through a dirty, wrinkled stack of meal cards. She pulled out eight pink slips and thrust them towards Joel. He knew better than to argue, and took them begrudgingly.

“You’re screwing me on this, Tessa.”

“And you’re screwing her.” Tessa’s voice was low. Joel didn’t miss the pain in her words. “In your dreams or in reality. Either way, you’re screwing her.”

Joel opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. His mouth snapped close. Tessa nodded in confirmation. She zipped up the duffel bag and swung it over her shoulder as she turned to leave.

“So this is about me not picking you?” Joel couldn’t stop the question from slipping out. He could have kicked himself for the fucking stupidity.

Tessa froze halfway up the first step of the stairwell behind the door. She half-turned back to him. On the other side of the doorframe, her entire face was cast in shadow.

“Partially. But partially because I can’t trust you anymore.”

“How do you figure that?” Joel stuffed the eight cards into the back pocket of his jeans, sensing that their conversation was coming to an end. He didn’t want to linger any longer than he needed.

“Because. You’re not a free agent anymore, Joel. You’ve got something to lose. Which means people can get to you. And if they can get to you, they can get to me.”

Tessa didn’t wait for him to reply before she started up the stairs. The door behind her swung shut, leaving Joel alone with the bare lightbulb and a jolt of fear in his gut that confirmed one thing:

Tessa was right.

*****

The frozen ground crunched under your knees as you knelt down in front of the lopsided piece of wood that marked Gabriel’s grave. He wasn’t buried there, of course; FDRA confiscated all the corpses. What they did with them from there, you couldn’t let yourself think about. But you’d buried his favorite pair of sneakers and the tattered Captain America comic book he loved so much in this spot. It had been weeks since you’d visited.

“Hi, baby.” You patted the cold, hard soil in front of his grave marker with a trembling hand. The frigid January air had gnawed your fingertips numb.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

In the distance, a raven cawed.

“Things have been… well, they’ve been bad since you left.”

The abandoned lot you’d buried Gabriel in was overgrown with vines. It had been a playground once. A rusted swing set lay overturned on its side a few feet from where you knelt. Behind it, a monkey bar and slide combo emerged from the weeds. Gabriel used to like to play here when he was little. Eddie would take him on the rare days he had off.

“I miss you.” You choked on the words, feeling your resolve beginning to fracture as tears burned the corners of your eyes. You swiped them away as your nose started to run.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m trying to do better. I’m trying, baby.”

Next to the wooden stake with Gabriel’s name roughly carved into it, a second stake stuck out from the ground. It was more worn and weathered after years of sun and rain. Eddie’s name was barely visible anymore. Like Gabriel, Eddie also wasn’t buried here, but this was where you chose to remember him.

“I love you both.” Two hands on the ground this time. One in front of each of your boys. A tear slid free from your cheek and slapped onto the frosted ground between your knees.

“I’ll visit more, I promise.” You rose from your knees, tucking your frozen hands under your armpits with a shiver.

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

Your body went still, icy dread shooting through your veins. You knew that voice.

“Just paying my respects, Dirk.”

You turned to face Dirk Reynolds, keeping your face in a mask of calm. He was the last person you wanted to run into out here so far from the rest of the QZ.

“Sorry to hear about your boy.” Dirk sounded anything but sorry. He was walking towards you slowly, eyeing you like prey. You fought the urge to run, but the sight of the FDRA-issued semi-automatic in his hands made you think twice.

“Thank you, that means a lot.” Actually, it meant dog shit to you, but Dirk Reynolds wasn’t a man to play with. Even Eddie had been afraid of him, and Eddie was as fearless as they came. You swallowed, suddenly feeling very aware of how alone the two of you were.

“You’re all alone now, aren’t you?” You couldn’t help but take a half step back. He was still a good fifteen paces from you, but too close for comfort. His words set your teeth on edge.

“I like to come out here by myself. Get some peace and quiet.” You knew that wasn’t the kind of alone Dirk was getting at, but you were desperate to change the subject. His brown, bloodshot eyes raked you up one side and down the other. Despite the layers of clothing you’d piled on to try and fight off the Boston winter, his gaze made you feel woefully underdressed.

“That ain’t what I meant, y/n.” His voice dropped an octave, practically turning into a growl. He kept moving closer to you, taking his time, his eyes never leaving you.

“I’m getting by,” you stammered back. “Mrs. Hughes and her girls are good to me. They look out for me.” You wondered if Dirk would back down knowing that there were people who might miss you if you stayed out too long. Mrs. Hughes and her daughters were good to you, but you doubted that they’d notice your absence until well past curfew. God knows what shape Dirk would have you in by then. Your throat went dry and you felt your lip start to tremble.

“You look scared, y/n. I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He was close enough that you could hear the frost-stiff ground crunch under his feet.

“I- I know.” Your reply wasn’t convincing in the least. Because you knew one thing: Dirk Reynolds would hurt you. You’d heard plenty of stories from the other women who lived near you in the QZ.

“I look out for my friends. And I’ve got plenty of friends around here. I could treat you real good. Keep you warm, comfortable. Keep you safe.” Dirk lingered on the last word, a thinly veiled threat.

“I’m sure. And we all appreciate everything you do for us. Truly.”

Dirk was FDRA, but he was also something of a self-styled neighborhood mafioso. He took bribes from all the drug dealers, smugglers, and pimps in the four block radius where you lived, and in exchange Dirk turned a blind eye to their goings and comings. You remembered him from when you’d first gotten to the QZ. He’d been a fat, boastful lecher back then. The twenty years since had seen him shed the beer gut and hone a real violent streak. He wasn’t the brightest man you’d met by half, but you couldn’t make the mistake of underestimating him. You hoped your appeal to his ego would work.

“I wouldn’t mind if you showed me some of that appreciation.”

You fell back another half step, your hands still raised in the air like it was a stick up. The fact that he hadn’t told you to put them down told you enough about his intentions.

“What… Dirk, I- uh, I’m not ready… For all that. Still grie-grieving.” You could barely speak, the sheer panic ringing in your ears like bells. He was close enough to reach out and touch you now. You started calculating the chances of making it if you took off in a run. That gun he held in his hands gave you pause. You’d seen what Dirk did to some of the women who’d turned down his advances. And you’d known a few women - by face only - who’d mysteriously disappeared. There were rumors, of course, that Dirk had something to do with it; but up until now, you’d been able to wave those rumors off. You had other worries to pay attention to. But now, all you could think about was getting away. You didn’t think you’d make it very far before he shot you. And despite everything you’d lost, the terror pulsing in your blood told you that you weren’t ready to die. Not yet.

“Y/N! There you are!” A vaguely familiar voice called out to you from over Dirk’s shoulder. You kept yourself completely still as Dirk’s face darkened in irritation, grunting angrily as he spun around to face the source of the sound.

Joel Miller was striding across the frozen carpet of vines at the northeast corner of the empty playground, waving at you like you were an old friend. Your knees almost buckled in relief at the sight.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I wish you’d told me you’d come out here to see Gabriel.” Your heart twitched at the sound of your son’s name. An idle corner of your thoughts wondered how Joel knew that’s why you were here, but that was a question for later. With Dirk distracted, you made your move. You scurried around Dirk, careful not to get close enough to let him grab you, and made a beeline for Joel. You had to consciously fight the urge to run.

“Sir, I appreciate you looking after her.” Joel’s tone was sunny and friendly. A little too obsequious, you thought, but maybe that was because you knew Joel was putting on a show for Dirk’s benefit.

You closed the distance between you and Joel quickly, the skin on your back prickling in a frenzy to get away from Dirk.

“Get behind me,” Joel whispered to you through gritted teeth when you were in earshot. His voice was low and urgent, but the smile he wore for show never faltered.

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Dirk’s reply was casual, but his tone was threatening and coarse. “Pretty little thing like that shouldn’t be alone in these parts. Can’t be too careful. All kinds of things slipping through the wall these days.” You knew Dirk was referring to the infected that occasionally broke into the QZ through the maze of dilapidated buildings, subway tunnels, and sewers. For your part, you’d have gladly traded the open city to get as far away from Dirk’s leering stare as possible.

“That’s what I tell her, once a day if it’s twelve times. Isn’t it?” Joel turned to you, obscuring his face from Dirk’s view. There was a question in his eyes: did he hurt you. You shook your head quickly, letting your eyes fall to the ground. You sidled closer to Joel’s shoulder. He noted the movement and casually shifted his weight to step squarely between you and Dirk.

“We’ll go on and head back then. Don’t want to miss curfew. Thanks for your help, again. I won’t let her out of my sight, that’s a promise.” Joel turned away from Dirk, gesturing with his eyes for you to walk towards the boarded up building at the far end of the playground. He kept himself behind you, between you and Dirk.

“Make sure you do that,” Dirk called out after the two of you. His voice was bitter and dark.

“Keep walking. Don’t look back,” Joel urged. He hovered a hand on your lower back, his touch so light you thought you imagined it. Despite the remnants of fear crackling in your nerves, his touch sent a gentle wave of warmth up your spine. You felt the terror subside slightly.

You let Joel lead you silently back to his apartment. The two of you never shared a word, but there was a clear understanding that you wouldn’t be going home. It wasn’t until you stepped through the familiar doorway that you let out the faintest smile at the promise Joel had made: I won’t let her out of my sight. You knew the promise had been made under duress, but you sincerely hoped he was serious.

read part 3 here! **let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #last of us #joel miller last of us #last of us imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x y/n #last of us hbo

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jomiddlemarch · 8 months

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The Duchess and the Diamond

The ballroom was grand, lit with a vast quantity of candles so that it shone bright as a summer’s noon, but the two women spoke as if they were concealed by a moonless midnight’s shadows.

“Has Lady Maria lost all sense of decorum?” Lady Fletcher positively hissed behind her gently fluttering ivory fan.

“I don’t know what you mean, Agnes,” Lady Shepherd replied. She had an inkling, of course, but it was always better to draw Agnes out as she made the most diverting remarks when she was either indignant or patronizing, and by her tone and the incline of her head, her en tremblant hair combs trembling quite noticeably, the current situation was a perfect confluence. “Lady Maria might be said to be somewhat eccentric, everyone would agree—there is not one lobster patty in sight and she hasn’t served ratafia for the past year and her taste in lace, well—”

“You know very well what I mean, Lydia. I mean that, that man—”

Here Lady Fletcher gestured almost boldly in the direction of the man in question, the object of much attention, curiosity and no little degree of scorn from the high sticklers.

“You mean Lord Miller?”

“Even his name speaks to his common origins,” Lady Fletcher said, sniffing in rapturous condescension. “Miller? How might anyone purport to be a member of the Ton with such a surname? What’s next, Lord Cook? Viscount Clerk?”

“Prinny is likely to say his royal favor is enough,” Lady Shepherd replied. “And then, the man is prodigiously wealthy, captured a half-dozen ships and has three battlefield promotions. Though I grant you, he does not quite look the part—”

They both glanced at where Lord Miller stood, a solemn and solitary figure flanked only by a potted palm. While there could be no complaint made as to the cut of his coat and pristine knot of his cravat, there was no denying a certain raw power, a rough-hewn quality to his features, his complexion bronzed, his stance one of a ship’s captain, his gaze accustomed to searching for the North Star and any enemy on the horizon. He was the furthest thing from a dandy one could imagine, whether he wore a properly powdered wig or not.

“No, he does not,” Lady Fletcher said. “To think someone of his stature was granted the wardship of Lady Elinor Ramsay—a Duke’s granddaughter!”

“Impoverished, though,” Lady Shepherd pointed out. “Lord Miller’s evidently declared he’ll dower her well from his own coffers, there’s not the least hint of any impropriety, save what she causes herself. She’s quite a hoyden, she’s been through three governesses in the past six weeks according to my lady’s maid. Miss Mischief, she’s called among his staff, though I cannot say they fully disapprove of her.”

“She hasn’t a chance of making a good marriage with only Lord Miller to sponsor her, no matter how well he dowers her and how many teas and balls he can convince Lady Maria to organize on her behalf,” Lady Fletcher said.

“You cannot have heard then?” Lady Shepherd said, leaning in slightly. Lady Fletcher would not care for being the one who must admit ignorance, but the prospect of gossip about Lord Miller was too tempting to refuse.

“Do go on, Lydia, it’s quite rude of you to tease.”

“Lord Miller is determined to marry this Season and marry well enough that his new bride might provide entrée for Lady Elinor. He had hopes of Lady Carmichael, as he served with her brother, but then she was compromised by that horrid viscount, Cord or Gordon or somesuch, the one who looks most terrifyingly like a mushroom, and Lord Miller had to step aside, as he could not rescue Lady Carmichael and ensure his ward’s acceptance in good society,” Lady Shepherd explained.

“Poor Tess,” Lady Fletcher remarked with what sounded like genuine sympathy. “The viscount is known to have a rather weak constitution—she may retreat to her Scottish holdings and hope a harsh winter carries off the scoundrel or whatever is passing for cuisine among the Highlanders. She would have been wasted on Lord Miller though—”

“They had some affinity, but it’s irrelevant, as she’s due to marry in a fortnight,” Lady Shepherd said.

“I suppose Lady Maria and the Duke of Wesley are determined to help Lord Miller secure a wife,” Lady Fletcher said. “The Duke considers him a brother, after all.”

“As much as they may, I’ve heard. Lord Miller is very proud and brusque. But the Duke’s valet found a man for Lord Miller, so that he might appear well-turned out in company. My maid says when he’s at home, he goes about in his shirtsleeves and a scuffed pair of Hessians,” Lady Shepherd said.

“He hasn’t the hands for a quizzing-glass, that’s most evident,” Lady Fletcher tittered.

“He holds the ribbons of his curricle light enough,” Lady Shepherd replied.

“Shall that attract him a charming and wellborn bride? I shouldn’t think so,” Lady Fletcher said.

“It may attract her brother or father. He’s a fine stable of horses,” Lady Shepherd said.

“It almost sounds as if you’d entertain a suit for your Flora,” Lady Fletcher said, an eyebrow raised in skeptical inquiry.

“Her father might. I shouldn’t risk it. Flora’s a dear but she’s rather timid and it would be like pairing a canary with a falcon,” Lady Fletcher said. “Besides, if we did, think of the disappointment of the Ton—everyone is so looking forward to seeing Lord Miller run amok on the marriage mart. We may even learn if he’s capable of waltzing—”

“I assure you he’s entirely, eminently capable,” Lady Maria said, having approached the party from the rear, a military maneuver she’d learned from her great-aunt, a woman renowned for her stratagems, her cutting tongue, and her collection of bejeweled turbans which she’d taken to at age thirty and had worn despite any variance in fashion for the remainder of her life. To be so confronted by their hostess was an indication that they’d grown too engrossed with their conversation or too comfortable with their positions, forgetting that even the hint of a scandal could topple the most sterling reputation unless one was an original or a Duchess. As neither lady fulfilled either category, they both pursed their lips in the apologetic simper that was required to show their pretense at remorse.

“One might expect it of a sea-captain,” Lady Shepherd hazarded. “I believe they must be quite nimble on board. There is an excessive quantity of rope and one hardly ever sees a senior Naval man missing a lower limb. They do speak of sailors dancing jigs and whatever a hornpipe is, surely a commander must master the steps as well.”

“Lord Miller would be glad of your confidence,” Lady Maria replied in such a tone and with such a glance as to ensure both of her listeners understood she meant the opposite. “He is indeed everything accomplished, however stern he may appear, and any wise young lady would be fortunate to receive his offer.”

“But that assumes the young ladies this Season are wise, when I do believe I have never seen a sillier, giddier collection of misses presented to the Queen,” Lady Fletcher said, meaning to pounce upon Lady Maria’s remark and regain some superiority. Lady Maria was unperturbed, her gloves unwrinkled, her hem kissing the polished floor with the greatest elegance possible.

“If Lord Miller intended to consider only those young ladies making their debut, that might perhaps be a dilemma. As it stands, he has imposed no such restriction, only seeking a wife worthy of his hand and well-suited to the guidance of his ward,” Lady Maria said. “He is quite devoted to Lady Elinor, for all that she taxes his patience; one cannot resist her liveliness and she shows every sign of being deemed her year’s diamond.”

“Lady Elinor? A diamond of the first water?” Lady Fletcher exclaimed. “You would make such a prediction?”

“I would make such a wager,” Lady Maria said. It was widely known Lady Fletcher regularly overspent her pin money and would likely have gambled away her family estate; she would not be able to decline Lady Maria’s proposition and Lady Shepherd would not keep the exchange to herself. It would be the choicest gossip of the night’s ball, unless there was an impromptu betrothal between crusty, long-time bachelor Earl Nicholas and the sprightly Honorable Frances Bartlett, an event so unlikely they would not even record it in the betting book at White’s.

“What stakes?” Lady Fletcher asked.

“I know they say ladies must never offer anything of great value, confining ourselves to flower cuttings or ices at Gunter’s, but when I gamble, I prefer for it to be worth my while. As I far outrank you, I shall stake a favor, to be called in at the time of your choosing. On your part, I think it is only fitting you stake your diamond parure—”

“The Fletcher diamonds?” Lady Shepherd exclaimed. Lady Fletcher had turned a peculiar color that resembled old whey and emphasized the somewhat heavy hand that had rouged her cheeks.

“Diamonds for a diamond, what could be more poetic? More apt?” Lady Maria said.

“I don’t think—” Lady Fletcher began.

“Naturally, if you are not sanguine about the wager, you needn’t make it, though I’d expect you to offer your vocal support to Lady Elinor and Lord Miller,” Lady Maria said.

“I’m confident the chit won’t be anything like the Season’s diamond. Nor even an original,” Lady Fletcher said. “I’d go a step further and say I wager Lord Miller cannot become engaged to a member of the Ton before Lady Elinor’s presentation to the Queen.”

“What an intriguing elaboration,” Lady Maria said. Lady Shepherd thought that Lady Fletcher ought to blanch at their hostess’s tone, but arrogance had restored her complexion. The diamonds at her throat and earrings sparkled and Lady Shepherd wondered how they might look on Lord Miller’s ward.

“I take it you accept?” Lady Fletcher said.

“Gladly,” Lady Maria said. “What a very delightful Season this promises to be!”

This fic is for @tessa-quayle who deserves to be having a better day!

#the last of us au #regency au #that's right #joel miller as a regency hero #maria #ellie williams #joel and ellie #all the regency tropes I could squeeze in #I couldn't find pedro pascal in a cravat #pedro pascal fic #romance #humor #tessa-quayle #fluff

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