#ch: Claire

[hannahssimblr]

As hangovers go, it’s about a nine out of ten. I waste the morning drifting in and out of sweaty snoozes, my duvet coiled around my legs like cotton vines that want to bind me to the sheets, gritty with the sand I dragged in on my shoes. At some point I am startled briefly awake by my phone buzzing with such fury that it hops along the surface of the mattress. 

It's Michelle. I switch it off and roll over. 

Around midday when the sun is at the perfect angle to sear through the glass and scorch my sweat bathed body like a helpless insect under a magnifying glass, I finally roll out of bed and shuffle into the living room. 

The guys are playing something that’s wall to wall machine guns on the PlayStation. They invite me to join, but I tell them no. The percussive sounds of the bullets is enough to make my brain throb. I let myself outside in yesterday's clothes to escape the noise, grabbing my sunglasses on the way. 

I think a walk will be good, I think it’ll make me feel better. I avoid the beach, which is obnoxiously busy on sunny days like this one, in favour of a walk through the village in the vague direction of the boat club. I don’t intend to go that far. I spent the whole summer last year avoiding a certain waitress, and I have yet to decide if I’m going to do the same this year. Today is not a day for decisions, so I will just loop around the caravan park and come back. 

The walk is not a success. First I am confronted by the dead seagull and then it’s the bin overflowing with half eaten fish and chips in the beach car park. I make it about ten metres before my body takes over and I throw up neon green behind a family station wagon. I knew it was coming, but I would have rather it had happened in a more confidential place. 

“Oh God, foul.” A very pretty girl in a bikini says to her equally pretty friend as I wipe my chin with the back of my hand, and all I can hope is that either these sunglasses provide adequate disguise, or that I will never see them again. 

But once I’ve thrown up I feel better. Though a headache persists, I've heard the sea air holds some sort of magic. I suck it in in lungfuls hoping it can heal my stomach, my head, and whatever it is that is specifically wrong with boys like me who call their ex-girlfriends at two in the morning and say a whole host of things that are wholly unhelpful to both of you. 

After this walk I will go home and force myself to eat something. I'll just force myself around the caravan park one time. The moment I slip through the gates, I have to leap aside to allow a group of boys to pass on their bicycles. They shout something at me for being slow and in their way, and I laugh, even though it makes my skull throb. 

I’ve always quite liked this part of the village, it’s rough and ready. There is nothing fancy about the old concrete shower block, dropped smack bang in the middle of the place, the big sun bleached plastic bins and the sporadic blocks of concrete with weeds bursting from the cracks. I enjoy its chaos, the mismatched lawn furniture, thin summer clothes pegged to lines, the children running wild in unsupervised chaos. 

The management tried to ban me from this park when I was twelve over some incident with a tennis ball and an ice cream truck. They took my photo and all, and stuck it up in the office, but the next summer when I got my growth spurt they didn’t recognise me anymore. So I made my triumphant return, hung around, threw things out of trees to see what sounds they’d make, and kissed all the girls I could get my braces-filled mouth on. 

I peer over the rim of my glasses toward where three girls are hanging out on the tennis courts, two popping the ball over the net while the third lolls on the sideline. I try to figure out if I ever kissed any of them in my heyday. I don’t remember, but if they were here in 2005 then it's most likely. 

Except if that girl is Kelly Healy, which, I realise, as I get closer to the court that it is. She’s unmissable, really, red faced, her sweaty curls spring free of her ponytail as she swipes at the ball and misses. She lets out a cry of frustration, flings her racket onto the ground and whines loudly about how unfair it is that she should have to lose every single set. 

I think it’s fine to think about how much I never wanted to kiss Kelly Healy. It’s not offensive, because it’s not as though she would have wanted to either, in fact, the idea of it has to disgust her as much as it does me. I hope she doesn’t see me as I pass, but I doubt she will, she’s too busy laying into her friend, but the girl sitting on the ground does. 

She smiles at me. Does she come here every summer? Is she one of the girls I’ve kissed? I doubt it. I think I’d remember. 

I smile back tentatively and she shyly tucks a strand of silky blonde hair behind her ear. 

She’s pretty, but I look away, racked with guilt for thinking it. Amn’t I supposed to be heartbroken and devastated? Surely I owe at least three months of penance, languishing in misery, unable to even look another girl in the eye as punishment for my selfish crimes. I’ve only given it a measly six weeks. 

I think this walk was a bad idea. I wasn’t ready for it. I swerve down a path away from the court and turn back toward home.

Jen is hanging out on the outdoor furniture when I return. I don’t really want to talk. It seems somehow as though breathing the fresh air has made my headache worse, but she speaks to me anyway despite my attempts to non-verbally communicate a desire to be left alone. 

“You should delete her number,” she tells me, voice flat, and I just grunt something non committal.

“I’m serious, you really just can’t be trusted. You should just save yourself the angst and minimise the risk of any contact.”

“You spoke to her?”

“Yeah she called me,” then, incredulously, “why did you say all of that to her?”

“I don’t remember what I said.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well, don’t then. I don’t care.”

“Okay, grumpy.”

“Don’t talk to me right now.” I stalk up the stairs and into the house, then burst into my room while ignoring the boys who are still offering me a game of whatever they are playing. I kick the door shut and snatch my phone off the tangled mess that is my bed. I switch it on. 

It comes to life in my hand like a sentient being, buzzing and chiming with all of the messages and calls I missed, but I delete every single one of them without looking. Then I go straight to my phonebook.

SHELL <3 

Her name is stark, black text against white. She changed her own name on my phone a long time ago, adding that little heart onto the end of it as though I would ever forget exactly which Michelle this was, as though we didn’t text each other every second we spent apart. I swear, through the aura of my headache, now throbbing furiously behind one eye, it seems like those two little symbols are mocking me. 

DELETE?

My thumb twitches. 

YES SHELL<3 HAS BEEN DELETED

Beginning // Prev // Next

[ladiesoflost]

centric episodes ≡ 2.15 maternity leave (claire littleton)

Look, Mommy made this for you when you were still inside her tummy. You know, I wanted them to take you. But now I know -- I know that we're supposed to be together, you and me. We're supposed to take care of each other, okay? You're mine and I love you. I love you so much.

[marzipanthots]

DARK HEIR CH 51

Fan comic (⚠️mega spoilers) PART 2/2

READ THE REST BELOW 👇

PART 1

https://www.tumblr.com/marzipanthots/749335459448176640/dark-heir-ch-51?source=share

PART 2

https://www.tumblr.com/marzipanthots/749335720149286912/dark-heir-ch-51?source=share

Creative notes - I’m still upset about the collar. It’s so devastating😭😭😭😭, Will is a little scatch up from his fight with cyprian and visander . I gave will a white shirt to represent his vulnerability and innocence to contrast James wearing all cover up in his fancy coat.. then edventually they both end up with less layers as they are being vulnerable with another in a intimate way🫣🤭

Then the grand reveal of the DAMN COLLAR

In the text will has flashback of the lady calling him out and I though it be interesting to see all of sarcean former lovers together 🫣😳

And then will had a flashback seeing anharion bloody neck in the book/text

it was so violent visceral I wanted to capture that moment too.

[incorrect-outlander-quotes]

Jamie: How drunk are you? Claire: Drunk enough that I know I want to do this. Not so drunk enough that you should feel guilty about taking advantage. Jamie: That's the perfect amount!

[ewkpop]

LuLu's snack pouch

[felicitykings]

What you need is something to take your mind off it.

[rose-of-oz]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀, 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄, & 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍

❝ Dearest gentle reader,

While this author will freely admit to paying some special attention to the Bridgerton and Featherington families over the course of her writings, there is certainly another family of the ton who is quite equally worthy of note. The Norringtons of Edgewater, headed by notorious eccentric Baron Peter Norrington, certainly seem poised to create some ripples in London’s social scene this season, especially with two out of three daughters officially presented to society.

At the head of the line of Norrington children is Miss Eliza Norrington, now entering her third season with, this author is regretful to report, seemingly no more hope of finding a match then in her two previous seasons. Though it can hardly be doubted that the eldest Miss Norrington has been properly trained in all the genteel arts befitting a daughter of nobility, as well as a perfectly polite and compassionate manner, she also seems to possess an unfortunate - in the eyes of her potential suitors, at least - fondness for books, having often been seen at social events with her nose tucked into a tomb. This, combined with her timid nature, seems to have warded any eligible gentleman off from calling on her, to the presumed despair of her dear mama, who is very much the opposite of her dear eldest daughter in disposition.

Then we must turn our attention to the middle daughter, Miss Genevieve Norrington, who will be making her debut this London season. The young Miss Genevieve, like her mama, also appears to be very different from her elder sister; indeed, as this author hears it, she is in possession of a fierce temper and a rather outspoken tongue, having often been heard spouting ideas about gender equality and women’s education that seem altogether too modern for most members of the ton. This rather nasty reputation, accompanied by the fact that she will be sharing her debut with Miss Daphne Bridgerton, the Queen’s recently named diamond of this season, does not bode well for Miss Genevieve’s prospects this season in the opinion of this author, and may in fact leave Lady Norrington with two daughters begun on the track to becoming that most dreaded of things, the spinster.

And, last but certainly not least, there is still Miss Aurelia Norrington, the youngest and yet-to-be-debuted Norrington daughter. If possible, Miss Aurelia seems to show even less willingness to be presented and wed than her sister Genevieve - indeed, this author hears, she has often been known to deride the so-called marriage mart and the traditions surrounding it, insisting that we should all be better off finding matches by chance the way commoners do. Although there will be some time for the youngest Norrington to change her mind about these views - or, rather for her mother to change them for her - she seems to be quite content watching this season from the sidelines with childhood friend Miss Eloise Bridgerton, the two watching the goings-on of London society with negligible envy as their other friend Miss Penelope Featherington seeks to navigate it, as she makes her debut alongside her sisters.

Indeed, dearest reader, it may seem from the outside that there will be nothing of note in store for the Norrington sisters this season, simply another disagreeable young lady fading into the background and chasing away all prospects while her elder sister marches further and further towards the role of old maid. But all is not as it seems - for I do tell you, reader, it would appear that an unfortunate meeting with the Viscount Bridgerton while trying to help his diamond of a sister escape his protective glares at her suitors may have sparked a connection between Miss Eliza and Lord Anthony. And as it would happen, the newly debuted Miss Genevieve seemed to have some sort of prior introduction to London’s newest arrival, the Duke of Hastings, despite, to this author’s knowledge, never having been formally introduced to the man - and, not to be outshone by her elder sisters, Miss Aurelia has publicly declared her shared intention with Miss Eloise Bridgerton to discern the identity of this very gentle author, a fruitless endeavour indeed.

Yes, gentle reader, I believe this season, with all its Bridgertons, Featheringtons, and Norringtons in the mix, may prove to be the most dramatic, scandalous, and perhaps even romantic one in quite a while. But, for better or for worse, you may count on one thing: that I shall be here to dutifully inform you about it all.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown. ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom,

@auxiliarydetective, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs,

@reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations,

@stanshollaand, @ginnystilinski-reblogs,

@luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @oneirataxia-girl,

@arrthurpendragon, @surebrecs, @gabbysdawsons,

@dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @stelstellakidd,

@manyfandomocs, @lapinaquarelle, @partiallypearl, @welcometotheocverse,

@juliaswickcrs, @kendelias, @ocappreciationtag.

[funkyllama]

Simparte women descended upon Schloss Celle's diplomatic sitting room on the night before the Royal Wedding. The family was joined by only three women of the Bride's party; Princess Eleanor of Trenton, and her cousins, through blood and marriage, Princess Claire and the Countess Hertford. Thirty minutes away, in the Billiards room of Wittmund Palace, Prince Philippe held a much smaller gathering. The Count Hertford sent his future cousin a gift, an apology for his unattendence.

Last / Beginning / Next @empiredesimparte @trentonsimblr

eloise finally got the regency themed party of her dreams !! aha, category is: dinner at Barton Park >:D

[cyberneticnipples]

I hope you're happy. Just not like how you were with me. I'm selfish, I know, can't let you go.

[hannahssimblr]

She seems brighter when she comes back, though we all ignore the blotchiness of her face, like she’s just been crying. Her lashes are a little wet too, making them long and spiky like she’s a girl from a cartoon. She and Liam are smiling into each other's faces now, mumbling vague reassurances, giggling together as though what just occurred was so silly, and hasn’t caused any genuine hurt to either of them. 

When he kisses her on the cheek she flinches slightly as though there is something objectionable or embarrassing about the way that he touches her, and in that moment his insecurity makes sense. 

I think everyone feels bad for her then and wants for her to feel included because they start asking her questions about school which she answers enthusiastically, making sure to look very interested and engaged in what everyone is saying. It occurs to me that she’s a nice person, that she’s making an effort with others and being polite, and perhaps my initial judgement of her formality was unfair. I think I should try harder to be a nice person too, but then I wonder if it’s even in my nature to be that way. I’ve sort of already embraced being a bastard and allowed it to define me. 

“Tell everyone what you want to do in college,” Shane encourages, and Evie fiddles with the ends of her plaits. “Oh, well, art, I think.”

“You make art?” I say.

Immediately her face reddens. It must be a side effect of her kind of complexion. 

“Yeah, I suppose I’m okay at it.”

“Everyone says she’s great at it.” Liam says proudly, as though we are discussing his accomplishments and not Evie’s. “I haven’t seen her drawings yet, but the girls were raving about her. She draws in her sketchbook every day.”

“That’s cool.” I speak pointedly to her and not him, “What do you draw?” 

“Just whatever I see. Landscapes, people, sometimes still life, like stuff that’s lying around in the mobile home. I really like doing it, because when I’m drawing I don’t have to think about anything else.”

I smile. Somehow it’s comforting to hear her talking about art in a way that’s wholly familiar to me, as a meditation, a form of escapism.

“Jude is an artist too.” Jen says. “Ye have something in common.”

“Yeah, I’m studying art in college next year. I already have my place in the Berlin Academy of Fine Arts to do a degree.”

“Oh, so you’re studying abroad?”

“Yeah, it’s going to be good. Four years in Germany, I can’t wait. I’m actually leaving at the end of the summer,” which is… about seven weeks. My palms prickle and become damp with sweat but I keep smiling. It’s fine. Everything will just fall into place as long as I don't get stressed. 

Claire interrupts our conversation with her return, and kneels whispering urgent sounding things to Evie. I don’t hear anything but the delightful phrase “throwing up everywhere” and wonder with utter dread what exactly constitutes everywhere. On the couch? The rug? Up the walls? Well, at least it’ll be motivation to clean the house for once. Still, I’m struck by how much I fucking hate Kelly Healy in that moment, and consider suggesting that Jen clean up her vomit as penance for inviting her in the first place. 

“I can get my dad to come and collect us,” Liam is saying as he and Evie are getting up to help.

“Is everything okay?” says Jen, and Evie smiles tightly, “Yeah, just Kelly’s sick, so we’re going to have to take her home and look after her and stuff.”

“You don’t have to go, Evie, you can stay here with us if you want.”

She shakes her head, “No, I do. I want to go with them,” she turns to leave, but Jen quickly catches her wrist, “Hey, you should come to Dublin with us this weekend.”

“Huh?”

“Jude and I are going to an exhibition, and you might really like it.”

Usually I’d be pissed off that she’s changing our plans without consulting me first, but it seems like a good idea to me, actually. Maybe it’d be nice to go to an exhibition with someone who enjoys art, and not just Jen who walks around pointing at things and saying I could do that if I was bothered.

“No pressure at all,” I assure her, “but yeah, if you want to, you’re welcome. We’ll mostly be hanging out in the city for the day anyway so whatever you feel like doing.”

Jen pats her hand and gives her a meaningful look, “I’m just saying, it might be nice to get away for an afternoon.”

Evie grins. It’s the happiest I’ve seen her look all night, “I’d love to.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

seven sentence sunday

Happy New Year! No one tagged me, I just had stuff to share and wanted to close out 2023 with what's to come in 2024 😅 So anyways, here's some newlywed Fraser goofs!

The spot next to her in bed was empty, and she lifted her head to look for where her new husband had gone. She could see his broad form in the ensuite bathroom, standing before the sink in his undershirt and shorts, shaving his morning shadow. Claire propped her head in her hand and watched him, enjoying the view and the vaguely possessive notion that she was allowed to study him like this. She smiled unabashedly when he caught her gaze in the mirror just as he was finishing up. 

Jamie crawled back into bed, bracing his weight on his arms above her as he leaned down and kissed her. “Good morning, my beautiful wife.” He said it so easily, so infused with joy, and she hadn’t any defense against that kind of genuine affection. 

no pressure tagging @walkinginland @theawkwardterrier @frasers-of-my-heart @lara-frasers and anyone else that has something to share!

[gunchamber]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑: 𝐈𝐍 𝟏𝟎 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 !

𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥. 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴.

❛ What century is this ? No one fist bumps anymore . ❜

❛ You're a DWEEB . ❜

❛ People die , Dean . I watched my mom get torn to shreds . Let me go in there , & kill them . ❜

❛ This is for my dad . ❜

❛ I just wanted to tell you that — you're kind of amusing for an old man . ❜

❛ i saved your bacon . ❜

❛ a girl's gotta have her secrets . ❜

❛ i don't need you to save me . i'm not a little kid anymore . ❜

He can't help you - no one can . * stabs the vetala * ❛ Guess I'll have to help myself then . ❜

❛ Quit treating me like some girl . I've been training for this my entire life . ❜

❛ You're never too YOUNG to kill monsters . Especially the ones who kill your family . ❜

❛ Does it look like my bacon needs saving ? ❜

𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙶𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈 : @multi-royalty 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙶 : @hervelle , @americanedpsycho , @lockedfighter , @wantdead , @ruinedmyself , @lilyspaintedred , @maysbank

[marzipanthots]

DARK HEIR CH 51

Fan comic (⚠️ spoilers) PART 1/2

READ THE REST BELOW 👇

PART 1

https://www.tumblr.com/marzipanthots/749335459448176640/dark-heir-ch-51?source=share

PART 2

https://www.tumblr.com/marzipanthots/749335720149286912/dark-heir-ch-51?source=share

Creative notes - kissy scene in part 2 🫣🔥 I can’t believe I did this, I am exhausted and excited tho!! I did my best to format it well 💕

[incorrect-outlander-quotes]

Lord John: I suppose if I were forced to take a wife, you would be the least objectionable option. Claire: Is that meant to be a compliment? Lord John: Yes.

[ewkpop]

🐯(🐱) 🦁

[felicitykings]

Think back to the last night we were together - our last dance.

THE ORIGINALS (2013-2018) ↳ 3.11 Wild At Heart