#the kiss being Imogen silencing her in a way

[distant--shadow]

wanting to draw the latest imodna kiss but being overly aware I have drawn so many kisses that I'm basically repeating my lines 🥲

[socallmedaisy]

Laudna has been quiet since they were shown to guest rooms in the Castle for the night. Imogen recognises the silence; it usually means Laudna is lost in her own thoughts, or maybe today it's memories of this place, only now she has no way of knowing exactly what Laudna is thinking about. 

She's glad of that, truly, but there are times like this when she misses it, just a little. 

They're sharing a bed like they always do, Imogen curled into Laudna, Laudna bent towards her like a flower reaching for the light, their hands joined loosely between them, the tips of Laudna's fingers caught up in Imogen's. Fearne is breathing deep and steady in the other bed—none of them had said anything, but when the guards had shown them to two guest rooms, the three of them had walked purposefully into one of them and shut the door behind them before anyone else could follow—and Imogen inches her head forward, squeezes Laudna's fingers until Laudna's eyes flicker open to look at her. 

(It's the biggest tell she's not really asleep; when she is, her eyes are open.)

Imogen glances towards Fearne's bed, then taps a finger against her own temple and arches an eyebrow in a question, and waits for Laudna to nod her consent before she joins their minds together. 

Are you alright? Imogen tries to keep her thoughts gentle, like maybe Laudna will startle. She bites her lip and then asks the second part of her question, the one that's been rolling around in the pit of her stomach since they were getting ready for bed in silence. Since she was mean to a man who had done nothing other than share his name with a boy Laudna used to know. Did I do something? 

What? Laudna's thought comes back at once, not quite as gentle. No, I—

Imogen forces herself to wait, watches Laudna shake her head imperceptibly against the pillow. 

Laudna frowns. It's just this place. And—

And what? Imogen asks, anxiety twisting in her chest, when no more words come. 

I don't like being here. But I don't think I hate it. And I certainly don't hate the de Rolos. But she does. And sometimes I'm not sure how much of what I'm feeling about this place is me and how much of it is… not me. Laudna meets her eyes again, unblinking and then looks away quickly, like she's ashamed. Imogen hates it, instantly. 

It must be hard to come back to the place where— Imogen swallows, To come back here, after everything that happened. I don't think you have to have your feelings all neatly sorted out. I'm not sure anyone could given the circumstances. 

She swallows the urge to say she's not sure how she feels about this place either, how last time she was here and Laudna wasn't and it was one of the worst times of her life. 

Laudna doesn't say anything, but she does tighten her grip on Imogen's fingers, and after a second she dips her head forward so she can press her mouth against the tips of them. It makes Imogen shiver. 

I thought that's what we could do later, Laudna says eventually, and for a second Imogen is so focused on Laudna kissing her fingers she thinks Laudna means something else entirely. Go to try to find the good parts of Whitestone, if I can remember any. I thought it might help. She shifts on the bed, her knees bumping up against Imogen's. 

Finally, Laudna glances up at her, through her lashes. Imogen releases a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. 

But then after what happened with Andrew I'm not sure I should let you loose on anyone else I remember or who might remember me. There's a spark in Laudna's eye when she says it, her sing song lilt back in Imogen's head, and Imogen huffs out a breath, embarrassed. 

Can you blame me for defending you? If I ever meet that kid—

Darling, Laudna cuts in, leaning forward quickly, you realise you don't have to make up for every bad thing that ever happened to me? I already have you. That's enough. 

Imogen swallows, hard, and tangles her fingers more tightly with Laudna's. I wish you wouldn't say stuff like that when we're sharing a room. She wonders if her thought might have sounded breathless in Laudna's head. She hopes it did, hopes Laudna knows exactly how it makes Imogen feel when she says things like that. 

Laudna's eyes flick over towards the other bed again. Fearne can't hear us—

I know, but it makes me want to kiss you so bad. 

For half a second, she can't believe she said it, but then Imogen watches Laudna's pale cheeks grow a shade darker and she's glad she did. 

Oh, Laudna thinks. She shifts again, and it brings her even closer, her lips inches from Imogen's. Imogen watches Laudna's eyes flick down then back up to meet Imogen's gaze.  Maybe just once couldn't hurt. 

Imogen silences the voice that says it's a bad idea and darts forward to close the space between them at once, her fingers nudging Laudna's chin up to meet her. She presses her lips to Laudna's softly, almost afraid to move, but not wanting it to end, her forehead coming to rest against Laudna's before she breaks the contact. 

They stay there, savouring the closeness. 

I'm glad you're here, Laudna says in her head, and the thought is soft like a secret. Always, but especially today. 

Imogen presses her forehead a little closer and nods against Laudna's cold skin. I'm glad you're here too. 

[uselessgayshit]

takes place at the end of ep 65

———

“Goodnight, girls!” Zhuddana called after them, closing her door for the night.

“Goodnight, Zhuddana,” Imogen responded, shutting their own door and pressing her forehead against it, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Silence except for her breathing. She wasn’t used to that.

She slowly turned. In the dim candlelight, she watched Laudna reach, long fingers attempting to undo her corset. Her head turned to the side, hair swinging across her back, and she looked at Imogen over her shoulder. “Imogen?”

“Yeah,” she cleared her throat, “Yeah, of course.”

She took the few steps forward, fingers shaking. She was hyperaware that Laudna’s neck crooked even more, eyes following her, watching her. “Are you all right?”

She forced a smile, swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Yeah.”

She clenched her fingers to stop them from shaking. This was nothing out of the ordinary. They spent years on the road together, during which she did this every night. Their time apart was paltry compared to what they had been through. There shouldn’t be this chasm between them, not after what happened, not after what they had said to one another.

“Is this one harder?”

Imogen couldn’t help but laugh and she couldn’t keep the slight edge out of it. “No, Laudna, this one is not harder.”

The corset had nothing to do with what was harder about the situation. Returning to Jrusar, a place with which she was familiar, had been all she wanted but when she arrived, everything was quiet. Of her own doing, of course, she knew that. But as the front doors of the tavern opened and Laudna appeared, eyes widening as she took in Imogen, it was still quiet. In that moment Imogen couldn’t move, suspended between an intense need to feel Laudna in her arms again and a fear that all of the swirling thoughts she had had while on Wildemount, and the truth she had stopped shoving away to the deepest recesses, would ruin her. She had lost her music and she was struggling to decide if that was what was best.

“Can you - do you want to take it off?”

Imogen’s hesitation was like a bomb in the small room. Her hands stilled against the ties.

“The circlet, I mean.” Laudna had twisted back around so Imogen couldn’t see her face.

“I don’t think that’s wise.”

“You’ve dealt with the sounds of the city -

“That’s not why, Laudna.” The words came out curt, so different from the afternoon when all she was able to express was love and adoration and comfort. She had curled her fingers into Laudna’s on their way back from the market, though that wasn’t out of the norm. Laudna had made her tea as they sat with Zhuddana that evening but that was nothing Laudna hadn’t done before. Their room and their bed had been a place of solace but now it was thrown into exaggerated relief and Imogen’s mind started racing into their past.

“I know.” The words were only a whisper on the wind.

Imogen finished undoing the corset, dropping her arms and creating space between them. Laudna shrugged it off, gently folding it and setting it to the side.

“I can’t imagine the relief that brings to not have dreams.”

“What?” Imogen said, shaking her head in disbelief.

Laudna gestured toward the circlet. “To keep it on when you sleep and all.”

Imogen blinked and repeated herself again, “What?”

“I understand why you don’t want to take it off,” Laudna responded as if she couldn’t sense that anything was wrong as she pulled down the covers on one side of the bed.

That should have been the reason Imogen was desperate to keep the circlet on - and it had been, at first - but things had changed in the last day. Despite Laudna’s openness, insecurity raged through Imogen’s veins. She had always known what Laudna was thinking before and now she felt the need to second guess her instincts towards the woman who had never only been a best friend. Despite that, she found that she liked the novelty of not knowing. Of being able to ask the question, “Can I kiss you?” and seeing Laudna react to it instead of knowing how she would react. That she could ask a question now that wasn’t part of the little game she played to make everyone feel like they had choice.

Letting Laudna choose to come back to her had been one of the most painful moments of her life. At her core, logically, she understood that if Laudna chose to die, it had nothing to do with her. She would be ripped apart by it, another casualty of Delilah’s cruelty. But that choice had everything to do with the fact that Laudna’s death had been stolen from her once before. That would never happen again. Imogen swore in that moment, that if Laudna did return, Imogen would give her every choice imaginable to make for herself.

If this wasn’t the perfect place to start…

“Is it all right if I still sleep with you?”

Laudna had climbed into bed and looked up at Imogen, eyebrows furrowed almost comically. “We always sleep together.”

Laudna sounded shy and lonely. Her voice weaved around the room, pulling at Imogen’s heart strings.

“I just wanted to check.”

“Of course.” Laudna patted the bed next to her.

Imogen unbuckled her boots, sitting on the edge of the bed to slide them down her legs.

“Is this going to change things?” Laudna sounded so small, scared, something Imogen never wanted to make her.

Imogen paused, one boot off, and turned to give Laudna a soft smile. She wasn’t sure she had succeeded in not making it a sad one as well. Imogen couldn’t very well lie to herself. If Laudna had rejected her in the market earlier, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. It would have cracked something within her adding to a memory of another crack between them. She hid her own fear and sadness at the thought behind the smile, encouraging Laudna best she could. “Well… that’s kind of up to you Laudna.”

“We’ve always slept in the same bed. I… I didn’t sleep well when you were away from me.” Imogen’s heart swooped in her chest. Laudna wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Hey, this doesn’t have to change anything if you don’t want it to.”

Laudna looked up, eyes watering. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Imogen chuckled. She had spent so much of her time running away from things that it felt like a nice change of pace. “And you think I do?”

Laudna cracked a small smile. “I suppose not.”

Imogen finished pulling off her boot and crawled up the rest of the bed, sliding under the covers. She felt Laudna shift to blow out the candle that she would have left burning all night, her mind distracted by other things.

“Is this all right?” She heard in her ear as Laudna’s hand gently settled against her waist. Imogen nodded, grabbing Laudna’s hand and pulling it around her, clasping their hands together against the mattress in front of her stomach. Laudna’s breath was chilly against her neck as they breathed together.

“I’m terrified.”

“Of?”

“Right now? Mostly everything.”

“Of me?”

“Not exactly.”

“Of us?”

Laudna was silent. Imogen couldn’t have this conversation with her back turned. She rolled over, coming face to face with worry. She reached her hand up, trying to smooth the small wrinkles in Laudna’s skin. Wiped away black ichor that pooled in the corner of her eyes like tears. Fought down the urge to kiss her again.

Laudna blinked up at her, eyes dark and nervous. Imogen held her gaze as she slid her hand to cradle Laudna’s face.

“I’ll say this every day if I have to. I’m in this with you until the end. Always have been. Always will be. I promise.”

[unicyclehippo]

release (cr3) for the one word prompt

‘okay. alright,’ imogen says when nana morri gestures for them to go, that all is prepared. no one has stepped into the muck yet. ‘this might be a dumbass idea—‘

‘say it,’ chet encourages, immediately. ‘that’s pretty much the main thing we’ve learned today, right? no bad ideas when they’re just ideas.’

imogen nods, once and then more quickly. ‘right. okay. well, okay. okay. y’all might’ve noticed i took off the circlet—‘ orym nods. so does laudna. the others glance up to where it’s been sitting, which makes sense, being too occupied with their own things to see the tiny change. ‘so. i can look into your minds and then we’ll know who is the doppelgänger.’

silence.

then,

‘it sort of defeats the purpose of the challenge, doesn’t it?’ laudna inquires. ‘you know you’re welcome in my mind any time you wish, darling, but…this is supposed to be about trust, is it not?’

‘i dunno. i’m with mogen. trust is fine when you’re with your pals but if there’s two fuckos in the mix?’ chetney narrows his eyes. ‘bet i could sniff ‘em out. wonder how that works, changing into us. reckon they smell like us? walk like us?’

‘doppelgängers are fucking excellent at what they do. real hard to find.’ ashton scowls at the sidelong looks that earns them. ‘what? i fought one before.’

‘what do they look like cracked open?’ chetney cups a hand around his ear when ashton mumbles something. ‘what was that?’

‘i didn’t get it, okay?’ ashton snaps. ‘it got away. it can look like anyone, of course it fucking got away.’

‘hm. excellent at what they do. got away from you and your hammer… maybe. or maybe you are a doppel and you’re big talking your friends!’ chetney accuses, whipping out a chisel.

‘whoa!’ orym stepped between them, hands outstretched. ‘hold on.’

‘oh, so accusations are a good move but readin’ minds isn’t. got it.’

‘not helping, imogen.’

she lifts her hands in surrender. turns a worried look toward the muck and the altars. they’re wasting time with this. it’d be so easy—read for unfamiliar fey minds, kick out the doubles, grab the sticks.

‘it’s about trust,’ laudna whispers in her ear. she touches a finger to imogen’s wrist as if she doesn’t know - isn’t sure if it’s okay - and some of that is ambient thoughts, imogen thinks, which means it’s gotta be laudna. right? how far did the doubles magic extend? had laudna been thinking about that through both their tests, if it would be wrong to touch her? she grabs laudna’s hand tight. laudna sighs, relieved. ‘it’s about trust,’ she says again. orym nods. ‘what if… we must trust ourselves. our judgement, our instincts. do you remember what it was like to be a group at the start? we didn’t know one another but we had a mutual goal. we trusted one another just enough.’

‘enough to think you guys wouldn’t fuck us over,’ ashton muttered.

‘or you us,’ orym pointed out.

‘point.’

‘so…’ imogen picks up where laudna had left off, giving her hand a squeeze. laudna wraps her other hand tight around her wrist and leans in close, close enough for the floral-rot of her smell to overtake imogen’s senses, lighting her world up pink and bright. ‘uh. we - we can pretend we’re brand new. we need these branches.’

‘i think we can all agree imogen’s herself,’ FCG begins.

‘what! i mean, i am, but -‘

chetney hoots a laugh. ‘you’re blushing over laudna like you’ve never kissed a girl. you have kissed her, right?’

‘yes!’

‘multiple times!’ laudna insists.

‘ooh, multiple,’ chetney teases. ‘sounds sexy.’

sounds like it’s none of your business, imogen says harshly direct into chetney’s mind.

he winces, hand going to his temple. ‘yeah, that’s our imogen. damn! can you chill out? you gotta scream it?’

she narrows her eyes. he flinches, exaggerated, but there’s a smug grin curling his lips up on one side. it feels good to tease and be teased like this. imogen releases a breath she’s been holding onto way too long. rubs her temple.

‘so i’m normal. chet’s normal.’

‘fearne’s been quiet,’ laudna husks in her ear.

fearne’s ears prick up. ‘whoa! ‘scuse you!’

‘well it’s true!’ laudna hunches into herself, uses her grip on imogen’s hand as an anchor, ‘Its true, it is, its true, and none of us would suspect you, she’s your nana, it could be you—’

‘laud.’

‘it could be true,’ laudna says, lip jutting forward.

imogen kisses her. ‘it could be,’ she agrees, voice gentle. ‘but you’re the one who just told us we need to trust.’ she watches laudna blink, then blink again.

‘i did. i- i’m sorry, fearne.’

the faun feigns insult for a moment before she smiles cheekily. ‘that’s alright. i wasn’t listening anyway. i was thinking about trust.’ she eyes each of them, then her nana, and with a very casual sigh and a shrug, steps into the muck.

‘fearne!’

‘we’re not getting anything done hanging out there. orym? wanna get on my back? the mud looks pretty deep.’

orym scrambles up to her shoulders, leaning over her head to peer across the muck. ‘i think i see a path to the first altar. see?’ he points.

fearne hums. ‘i could drown you in the mud pretty easy.’

orym blooms a flower in his hand, tucks it into her hair. ‘please don’t.’

she laughs and walks deeper into the mud, into the test. the mud parts behind her, vague currents pulling through the sludge. it makes sense. there’s such a gravity to fearne. such a pull. did it feel any different? was this still fearne?

trust.

chetney uses ashton’s arm to climb him, keep him lifted out of the mud. he perches on the shoulder of the new arm. laudna eyes the mud warily. it sucks around imogen’s ankles and she knows immediately that FCG and laudna are going to have trouble.

‘ash, wait.’ he flinches when they talk to him now. his mind—she’s not looking but she can’t help but hear—his mind flinches too, scatters like the thunder wasps. flighty, storm front. then reordering to attack. was he afraid her next words would be, stay here? we can’t trust you? kill yourself? ‘can you carry FCG?’

ashton limps to FCG. ‘okay?’

‘sure!’

‘i’ll put you down when you want. you just gotta say.’

‘i know,’ FCG says. ‘i trust you!’

ashton ducks their head. they lift up FCG with a grunt and march into the mud behind fearne, wordlessly following where she leads.

imogen turns. ‘i can make us fly. keep your pretty new dress outta the mud.’ laudna flushes a mottled sort of pink-purple. she nods. her thoughts are syrup sticky-sweet as she meets Imogen’s eyes. ‘i love you.’

laudna smiles. ‘but do you trust me?’ when imogen hesitates, laudna brushes a crooked finger over imogen’s cheek. ‘i don’t think you have since i broke your rock.’

‘i forgave you for that months ago, laud,’

‘yes i know. i know. but there’s a part of you that knows i’m—i’m not me. i’m her.’

‘no—‘

‘yes. and you don’t trust her. you hate her. she disgusts you.’

‘laudna.’

‘it’s fine,’ laudna tells her, so quietly, so sweetly, so sadly. ‘i know. i understand. i feel it myself. but for right now, my love, do you trust that i am myself?’

imogen nods. how can she not? it’s laudna, standing right in front of her. she lets her magic fill her, rise into her skin and out, crackling into her air surrounding her, surrounding them. hooking an arm around laudna’s waist, she lifts them both into the air.

the first and second branches are easy. they’re guarded by traps and quick, muddy creatures they repel and run from, not wanting to harm anything in nana’s realm that can’t be healed.

they’re approaching the third branch when fearne says,

‘i don’t think any of us are doubles.’

ashton pauses. ‘wait. what?’

‘i don’t think any of us—‘

‘we heard you, fearnie,’ imogen says through gritted teeth. she’s trying to run the maths. two doubles. laudna and chet are definitely who they say they are, so is she. so it’s orym and fearne, most likely. right? ‘why do you think that?’

‘it doesn’t make sense! this is supposed to be trust building for all of us. why would any of us sit out?’

‘it’s a trick,’ laudna breathes. ‘a conniving trick. if we are all ourselves—‘

‘but we think two of us aren’t ourselves,’ oryn takes up the train of thought,

‘then we waste time being suspicious of each other instead of just doing what we’re supposed to do.’

‘seems like an apt tie-in to what we hope to do on the moon,’ FCG says, cradled in ashton’s arms. ‘less likely to succeed in our mission if we’re too busy double-checking what everyone else is up to.’

‘fearne,’ imogen breathes. ‘that’s brilliant.’

fearne flips her hair, demurs with a coy smile. ‘of course.’

‘plus, wouldn’t it make us trust each other less if we couldn’t figure it out now and forever more sort of weren’t sure if any of our friends had been replaced?’

‘true, but when you put it that way, that does kinda sound like something nana would do,’ fearne laughs. ‘look out, trap in the mud here.’ orym leans over and drops a white snapdragon blossom where fearne points. ‘okay, third stick, here we go!’

[sotvrna]

scars

It’s the small things for her. A smile lasting a beat too long; a hand straying on her back; a supportive word said in earnest; eyes that always find a new something to appreciate; warm breath on her neck;

a kiss under gentle morning light.

Imogen pulls her lips away from Laudna's, a smile tugging the muscles of her face into a softer shape, unavoidable. “Mornin’,” she says, her voice still affected by sleep, and nuzzles into the crook of her neck to hide the stupid grin she can’t seem to get rid of.

“Good morning,” Laudna responds, impossibly soft, a smile in her words. She cradles her close under the covers, massaging her scalp in the exact way she likes.

Quiet, comfortable, filled only with their breaths. Laudna’s chest lies still beneath her ear, a silence that might’ve unnerved her with anyone else but has become a sign of safety instead; she remembers reading an old, weathered book, where a poet said ‘a lover’s heartbeat is a sign of an oncoming tempest’; if that’s true, then Laudna’s lack of one is a harbor to protect her from the storm.

“What are you thinking of?” Laudna asks, and kisses the top of her head.

“You,” she responds only after a slight hesitation.

“But I’m right here.”

Imogen pulls away to look at her; Laudna’s hair spilling over the pillow, crowning her head, her deep dark eyes always searching her, her naked chest tempting her attention. “You are,” she says, and kisses her again; it’s a soft, delicate thing, and still it sends electricity through her body, a novel feeling every time. “You really are.” She touches her face like she’s making sure, gently thumbing her cheekbones.

Laudna creases her eyebrows, though the smile remains. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know... I just missed you.”

“After last night?” Laudna asks, with a suggestion in her tone. “Did you go somewhere in your dreams?”

She frowns, her gaze unfocused. “Maybe... I don’t remember but— Feels like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Well, we’re together, here,” Laudna says, and covers the hand on her cheek with her own, gently taking it to her mouth and pressing her lips to it. “Focus on that.”

And Imogen does, for a while. Touching her, sharing this secret peace with her, it’s grounding, and Laudna seems content with going back to sleep. But eventually she raises to her feet, pulled by an unrest deep within her.

Laudna protests by way of a whine, holding onto her hand. “Where are you going?” Her eyes plead.

“We have, so much to do,” Imogen responds, trying not to sound too severe.

Laudna pouts and sits up on the edge of the bed, taking her other hand and keeping her from finding her clothes. “No we don’t. Stay with me.”

Imogen rolls her eyes fondly. “Yes, we do.” She’s sure of that much. She just can’t seem to remember what, exactly.

Pulling on her hands, she gets Laudna to her feet, but she uses the momentum to get into Imogen’s space, encircling her neck with her arms and sharing the space of their breaths. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“You’re being very boring right now.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Laudna begins to slowly sway them to an imaginary rhythm. “Dance with me.”

Imogen laughs. “Without music?” But she allows herself to be led, falling in tandem with Laudna.

“You can’t hear it?” Laudna asks with a lopsided smile. “Pay attention.”

She narrows her eyes at the silence of the bedroom, only the occasional bird out the window and their shuffling feet breaking it. “I ain’t hearing anything.”

Laudna simply gestures at her own head with an index.

Imogen opens her thoughts, lowering her walls and finding Laudna’s presence, steady and tranquil. She embraces her mind, always a homecoming, feeling it envelop her own like the softest silk. It’s then she hears it: a soft melody, constant, dancing between their shared connection and filling her ears. She rests her hands on Laudna’s waist and her head on her chest;

and they dance.

She’s unsure how much time passes but eventually she pulls back to gaze at her, overwhelmed by a wave of deep affection. “I love you.”

Laudna smiles adoringly at her, sending a new wave of emotion. “I love you too.” She leans in for a quick kiss, then sends her spinning, using her hand to guide her.

They fall back into the bed giggling, Imogen feeling a bit silly but filled so intensely with a warm sensation in her chest. Laudna embraces her and they fall into a comfortable silence.

It’s moments like these when she truly understands the depth of Laudna’s meaning to her. How much she’s intrinsic to her life, how she can’t even conceive of existence without her. It’s funny, even the most mundane, small moments become relic with the right person; treasured possessions she selfishly keeps close to her chest to remember later.

Laudna studies her hand with her finger, tracing the scarred tissue there, then where they have started to turn reddish—it jolts something in her memory, and she feels the need to leave again but Laudna’s voice brings her back to the now. “Do they hurt?” she asks, barely above a whisper.

Imogen fights the instinct to cover her hands, to hide away the marks; it would be a foolish attempt since they now cover a lot more than her arms, but more importantly, she doesn’t want to shy away from Laudna, even over this. “Not really. They’re just... sensitive.”

Laudna hums in contemplation, tracing the lightning up her arm, where it meets with the scars going up her neck and down her chest. “They’re beautiful,” she says, focused on them, like she’s studying a particularly interesting work of art.

“They’re—” A curse? A portent? A defilement? Maybe the burden of her powers, at best. But “—not.”

Laudna clicks her tongue once. “They’re a part of you, so yes, they are.”

“I didn’t want them though.”

“And does that make them alien to you?” Laudna asks, looking deeply at her now. “We have our scars, and our pains, and our strangeness, and some of it is forced on us, but all of it is what makes us whole.”

Imogen is wordless, and it hits her suddenly how much scars must mean to Laudna, more than anyone else; how she sees herself and her own body; how she needs, perhaps, to see that beauty in someone else.

“Yours make you beautiful; and strong,” Laudna continues her exploration of her skin, her fingers drawing a pattern of affection down her chest and where the scars have marred even her breasts now; it’s a soft, intimate touch, and it anchors her.

Imogen covers her hand over her chest with her own, stilling it and making Laudna look at her. “So do yours,” she says, and repositions so she can lean over her. She releases her and brings her hand up to Laudna’s ear, hesitantly tracing the line of their cut shape, where someone dared to force her into a role she never asked for.

Laudna is stunned silent. Internally, Imogen’s heart beats faster, and anxiety gnaws at her, worry that she may have gone too far; this has been a line she never crossed; a touch she never dared. But Laudna’s face softens, and she leans into the touch.

Taking it as permission, Imogen closes in, peppers kisses over her ear and the sensitive skin behind it, soft and caring, slow and reverent. Her hand travels down her collarbone and finds its way to her chest where, between Laudna’s breasts, lies another mark, another testament to her being punished undeservedly and ruthlessly in the name of another. She pulls away, her eyebrows forming a tense line. Her fingers feel the ridges of where Otohan’s blade pierced her and shattered her world.

Laudna must sense her darkening mood, because she touches her cheek softly and whispers “It’s just another scar.”

But it’s not. This one is on her; her weakness; her fault. Laudna may bear it on her skin, but it’s mirrored in Imogen’s heart. She lowers her head, looks to her to see if this is okay before she presses her lips to the edge of the marred skin. She kisses her way down its length like she could somehow fix it; like she could remove this burden and what it represents from her; a tiny voice reminds her it’s not her place, that it’s Laudna’s history as much as hers.

Laudna brushes the hair from her face, then coaxes her up to face her, before she buries her fingers in her hair and kisses her, intense and passionate, garnering a response from her body as it awakens to the stimuli.

Quickly they find a way to distract and lose themselves in each other.

She wakes up. It’s disorienting at first, and she’s confused until it settles on her and she remembers: Uthodurn, an inn, simple rooms, no morning sunlight to greet her underground. A dream. It was just a dream. Yet the feeling it leaves is so intense, so real, so tangible; more vivid than a memory.

Laudna. The separation hits her again, and her eyes sting as she cradles her mess of rough covers closer, as if it could stem the loneliness she feels. Her relationship with her has been at the center of her life for so long. When she first met her, she knew she would become integral to her. The moment she felt her melodic mind in the crowd; the moment they first talked and she didn’t feel alone anymore. The first time they slept in the same bed, camping under countryside stars on their early travels; the first time Laudna brought her a cup of water after a nightmare; the first time they opened up about their past and found kinship; the first time Laudna transformed and she was delighted (the look Laudna gave her when she realized Imogen wasn’t scared of her).

The first time Laudna was gone and Imogen’s world broke again (the first time she was brought back and her world mended, crooked and scarred).

The first time Imogen thought of her as more than a friend.

She only realizes she’s crying as an afterthought. The bed rustles with movement and Imogen has a moment of whiplash, so used to having Laudna near in these moments, as Fearne’s soft voice drifts over her strangled sobs.

“Are you okay?”

Imogen chuckles dryly, humorless. She decides on honesty. “I’m not. But it was just a dream.”

“Another nightmare?”

Imogen can’t see her in the darkened room; she can hear the pity in her voice, but also the genuine worry. It’s a confusing feeling. “No. Nightmares I can deal with.”

There’s a long beat of silence before Fearne speaks up, unusually careful with her words. “About Laudna?”

Imogen suppresses another sob. She simply nods in response.

“I miss her too,” Fearne says, rubbing her arm in a valiant attempt at being comforting. Another extended silence. Then Fearne says, in her more usual tone and Imogen is grateful. “Do you wanna cuddle?”

She hesitates, but responds in a small voice “I do.”

Fearne, perhaps sensing something Imogen can’t, doesn’t say a word, simply engulfs her with her warm presence, nuzzling into the back of her head and settling into a comfortable arrangement with a sigh. Imogen finds herself craving more touch and accepts greedily when Fearne takes her hand, holding it firmly.

“Thank you,” she says into the dark, and gets a sleepy hum in response.

also on AO3

[pridepages]

Storytelling: Imogen, Obviously

I just finished Imogen, Obviously by Becky Albertalli. I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

Our lives are made up of the stories we tell. Narrative is how we make sense of the random events that occur and the feelings they inspire. We take the chaos and we impose order. Give it structure.

Slap a label on it.

I’ll be the first to tell you how important and empowering queer storytelling is. Control of the narrative is a form of power, and for centuries cisheterosexual society has tried to control our narratives by silencing them.

Little by little, we’re taking back the mic, the pen, the keyboard. We’re getting our stories out there, sending them out to let other queer people know: we see your experience. You are not alone.

So stories are powerful tools to help us define ourselves and find our people. But if stories help us define queerness...can they also confine it?

Enter Becky Albertalli with her newest YA novel Imogen, Obviously. Meet Imogen Scott: she’s the Best Ally Ever. Her sister is a queer woman. Both of her best friends are queer women. Imogen loves everything about them and about the gay culture around them. Imogen also feels a little funny, a little stung, whenever someone brings up the fact that she’s Straight. It’s almost like the label is being forced on her when it doesn’t fit...

“I’ve never quite been able to pin it down. The way queerness announces itself,” Imogen reflects. “How it seems so intuitive for people. How people just seem to know...There have to be some sort of visible markers of queerness. Otherwise, how could so many people know at a glance that I’m straight?”

That phrasing rings so many alarm bells...it’s not ‘I know I’m straight.’ It’s other people. Other queer people who draw the lines and set the rules of engagement.

It’s funny because it’s true. There are queer people who can say with the same breath: ‘it’s okay to question your identity!’ and ‘straight people need to stay out of queer safe spaces!’ It’s Schrodinger’s Gay--until you come out of the closet, you’re somehow both and neither.

Take Gretchen, one of Imogen’s best friends who talks like she’s terminally online and basically embodies the Schrodinger’s Gay approach. I give full credit to Albertalli for giving us a complex antagonist. Gretchen’s assumptions that straight is the default and absolute refusal to give any unlabeled person the benefit of the doubt is caused by the fact that she regularly experiences homophobia. Readers feel simultaneously furious watching her shove Imogen into the closet and sympathetic because we understand it comes from a place of envy for anyone with that mythical ‘straight passing privilege.’ For people like Gretchen, there’s one way to be gay. If you don’t fit the standard model, then you can’t be real.

For girls like Imogen...girls like me...this line of thinking is very, very dangerous.

Because it turns out that feelings and desires aren’t completely intuitive. We have to learn how to read them, how to put names on them...in effect, how to label them. And we need to be taught how. As it turns out, queer girls can be handed a lot of cracked lenses through which to see their own sexuality distorted...

Here are some of the ones I heard growing up.

“Everyone likes to look at women. They’re objectively more attractive than men.”

“You’re just too mature to be boycrazy.”

“You’ll feel it when the right man comes along.”

“Of course you feel intense about your friends...friends are more important than boys because they last forever!”

“Straight girls like when other girls touch/kiss them because it makes them feel a little wild.”

“If you’re gay, you just know. Because gay people are born that way.”

So that guilty, eager feeling I got looking at the Victoria’s Secret window just meant I was perverse.

And I was smart for not getting why my friends lost their heads over guys.

It didn’t matter that I only liked boys as friends. That funny feeling I got around my third grade teacher couldn’t be a crush.

It was normal that I hated all my best friend’s boyfriends.

It was cliche that tequila made me loose enough to like it when other girls grabbed my chest at college parties.

I wasn’t gay...

Because if I was, then I would already know. 

I’d have grown up a little tomboy who hated girly things. I’d have identified some sort of unattainable crush and suffered from homophobia and consciously silencing myself. I’d gravitate toward flannel and the Indigo Girls and have pictures of famous women pinned up on my walls. Because that’s what Real Gay Girls did...

Right?

“It's like there's this idea that you have to earn your label through suffering. And then you have to prove it with who you date, how you dress, how other people perceive you,” Imogen explains. And she’s absolutely right. This idea that there is some kind of ‘right’ way to be gay poisons our brains and makes us feel like imposters in our own bodies.

For years, I thought the reason I kept failing every time I forced myself to try dating men was because I was a Broken Heterosexual.

Those words actually appeared in my brain.

Like that is a real thing a person can be.

People like me are in desperate need of stories like Imogen’s. Because it is long past time to break the mold. This cultural pressure to perform identity the ‘right’ way leads to internalized homophobia. We police ourselves, struggle with imposter syndrome and insist we must be making up our feelings.

Screw that. Here’s Imogen’s lesson for anyone who needs to hear it: No one knows you better than you know yourself.

Only you know what you feel right now. Only you know when your feelings are evolving. You are the only person who gets to label you because YOU are the authority.

And to anyone who dares to say otherwise, I’m holding up this bit of wisdom from Imogen: “promise to hold space for variation.” Because we aren’t one narrative. We’re a library.

So keep sharing your stories.

I can’t wait to read them all.

[garnierwrites]

christ here we go 4 and 14 for imogen and jude and 11 for emma and isle

[ Spilt milk tears, I did this for you / Spilling over the idle, the black and the blue / The sweetest submission, drinking it in / The wine, the women, the bedroom hymns / 'Cause this is his body, this is his love / Such selfish prayers and I can't get enough / Yeah, I can't get enough ]

For Jude + Imogen: NSFW Gif Icon # 4

She believed things like these were made for the night, because daylight stripped them from their secrecy, tore their intimacy to shreds, took the tenderness of it all, and turned it into an animalistic thing. She wanted to believe sensuality had a lot to do with it and that to be perceived as being—by definition—overexposed. But whoever said being overexposed was a bad thing? Someone insecure? Someone scared? Or was it someone ashamed to admit to themselves, at times like these, humanity wore thin from the friction?

She was also biased. And that was entirely Jude's fault.

Little by little he was peeling back her layers, leaving on the floor wisps of translucent skin that could only be identified as hers from up close. There she was in the violence of a bright early morning, bouncing up and down the length of him and moaning softly at the stretch dancing so dangerously close to being painful.

“I'm supposed to be at work in thirty minutes,” she sighed, slamming her hips down on his, both harder and faster. “So you better make me cum quick.”

For Jude + Imogen: NSFW Gif Icon # 14

— in which they're fucking toxic xoxo

Imogen had come up with a better way to settle their arguments, better than shouting them out and better than punishing him with her silent hostility. The two of them had gotten into a fight, the umpteenth fight of the week, it seemed, and by that point, she could feel the excitement bubbling inside her at the prospect of settling their scores as soon as they were alone.

Yet in a twisted turn of events it had been Jude's turn to punish her with silence, to ignore her low blows, and disregard her in a way that burned and froze her all the same. Imogen had tried to keep some of her pride, but that too was useless, for she was in his lap kissing his neck as who nurses wounds carefully and trying not to sting. An eternity would pass by, and languid by languid movement she tried to arouse him, to awake him, to get him to speak—she had never been in a position where she was looking down at him lining himself with her entrance, and starting to push himself in, and been tempted to ask:

“Do you still like me?”

There goes her pride. His silence was a barrier not even their closeness could break, and their bodies a fountain of waters that would not mix and would hardly touch. Imogen was starting to lose her patience, meeting him halfway as she lowered her hips on him, and grazed his forearms with her nails wanting to elicit as much as a hiss from him—several minutes had passed and she was crying angry tears now. She was far too slighted to try and express her feelings like a normal person, let alone let him know she wanted him to fuck her faster.

She whined: “Fucking say something, Jude!”

She whined even more when he covered her mouth with his hand. Imogen's cheeks were streaked with tears and leftover mascara. This is the end of us, she thought, there's no way we can keep going like this. And so she thought, she really thought she could bring herself to stop him—stop them—and take whatever was left of her sanity with her. Unfortunately, he did oblige her with something, and the second his thrusts became faster and his beard scratched the tender skin of her face, she forgot about the whole thing.

For Emma + Isle: NSFW Gif Icon # 11

— not me giving them an exhibition kink

There were muffled noises coming from the racetrack: a celebration taking place at dusk's brightest moment, a few feet away from them. There were also louder noises: jagged breaths, clothes rustling, and zippers ripping open unceremoniously. Both of them were expressions of joy and relief in equal measure—the NASCAR season was officially over and they were free, for as long as the need of keeping themselves at a distance from the racetrack lasted. Who cares if it was just a fleeting moment? Would it hurt them that much to pretend they had a say in the way they lived their lives?

Moments like this made them feel alive, so naturally, he was going to indulge in them.

He deserved it.

She deserved it as well.

They had been in hiding for so long, and they were hiding still. Carlisle knew their relationship would be frowned upon, that he would be called impulsive and irresponsible, but he couldn't bring himself to care—he was too far in to do that. While the word love lingered in the air like a threat, he yanked his arms desperately out of his racing suit, letting the sleeves hang from his hips as traced his hands over Emma's soft skin, running his hands up her shirt and over her breasts. She was perfect. She was so fucking perfect.

“They're gonna walk in on us,” he said as a fact — not as a suggestion. “They're gonna see what we're doing, see how fucking good we make each other feel.”

He laughed like a villain and rid her of those skimpy denim shorts she was wearing as he came down to his knees and spread her from behind before running his tongue flat against her folds. He hummed at the taste, holding her lovingly in place, with his fingers digging into her thighs. Breaking apart from her was a punishment, but to look at her like that: half-naked in a pair of sneakers, half-exposed for the entire racing track to see should they wander into the darkened tunnels leading to the track, awakened something in him.

“Hold onto the wall,” he told her with a husky voice, as he rolled her panties down to her thighs, and pumped himself in his hand. Then he grabbed her hips, her hands pressed to the wall as he thrust himself inside her.

She was so maddeningly warm, so tight, “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck baby.” Soon the tunnel was filled with the sounds of moans and skin slapping skin, both of them shrouded in the half-light. There was something he found so arousing in the idea of not fully removing their clothes, something so primal and urgent, neither of them capable of waiting just a little longer to fuck each other's brains out. He wanted to be sweet, he wanted to be a gentleman, but it was clear this one time neither of them needed him to be.

Somewhere close by there were footsteps. Isle pressed his chest to her back and gathered her hair at the nape of her neck, feeling her tighten around him and someone's arousal—his or hers, he didn't know—running down his shaft.

“Someone's coming,” He tugged at her hair as he kissed the shell of her ear, and he whispered. “Let them fucking hear you.”

[eddiemunsonsmiddlefingers]

I think it's officially a disease or something.

I've watched this show Too Many Times.

The first few times, I enjoyed the obvious bits: the crush, the kisses (including Darcy & Tara), the getting together, the happy date, the coming out.

Now though...in my last re-watch I found myself really enjoying other parts of it:

Nick looking up LGBTQ stuff on his computer, specifically the whole bit leading up to the quiz where all he really saw was terrible stuff. This, in contrast to the scene where Darcy says "We're such meddling gays" in the GC and Nick looks so happy.

The scene after he takes the quiz when he's standing at the table and all of his friends are turned away from him. It's the best visualization of the feeling a song gives me that I've ever seen.

Nick and Charlie running up the stairs. I love this even more than the actual kiss. Nick unintentionally gave Charlie the ability to lead the way in a manner he's really good at and choose where they go at the end. I don't know if Charlie would have been able to ask the questions he did if he hadn't had that burst of confidence and joy before hand.

The corridor run after fetching Tara and Darcy. There's so much to unpack here: Tara and Darcy first, holding hands to begin with (they're out, they're together, everyone knows it), Nick and Charlie next, grabbing hands as they go (together, but working on being out); Elle next; she's out and proud but she cares about Tao...and Tao himself, who is struggling to keep up, who isn't sure if he belongs anymore, who physically can't do the thing they're all doing (coming out) and doesn't know he can have what they have (Elle's right there but he doesn't see her care for what it is).

Isaac knocking over the monopoly board to end an argument that symbolizes Charlie and Tao's basic differences in perspective and opinion on a mutually experienced situation.

Darcy telling Imogen "thank you for your service" versus Nick saying "Glad to be of service" to Tara.

Elle's comments about getting suspended for hair length. That's the exact kind of bullshit reason a transphobic administration would come up with to get her out of their school without getting in legal trouble for discrimination. A little too real, but also her joy at being able to be herself is so GOOD to see.

Nick asking Charlie 'what's up' when he looks distressed juxtaposed with Nick's mom saying "Oh Nicky, come on baby" in the car vs Charlie's mom saying "you could at least change out of your pyjamas" like he's done something wrong and his dad asking what's wrong but failing to follow up when Charlie blows him off, juxtaposed with Charlie failing to communicate with Tao, always assuming he's done something wrong, and assuming he's ruining Nick's life. How parents interact with their kids impacts how their kids view themselves and interact with others, and this show draws that line very clearly.

Imogen hanging out at the gates of the boys' school every day. I didn't even question it until I realized wait- she doesn't go there. Why is she there? I want to know more about Imogen.

Every single time Nick makes that guilty "oh fuck" face when Charlie gets shit (or talks about getting shit) for being gay after Kiss. Kit's ability to convey emotion with microscopic changes in his expression is phenomenal.

Ben looking over their shoulders in that split second scene in the cinema. Also, all the cinema posters.

Tao and Nick's conversation in Boyfriend. Anyone who hates Tao can fight me. He IS a good friend—he's just fifteen, for fuck's sake. Mistakes happen, give him a break.

Isaac reading Radio Silence. Aled's here, my friends, just in another room.

The details about Charlie (and Tori)'s life that tie into the books and will lead into season 2 if it happens, but in such a subtle way that people who haven't read the books notice but think it's just stress, while people who have read them are crying with the sadness of it all.

The cinema fight. I don't know why. That scene fills me with ferocious glee because Harry absolutely deserved to get decked but for some reason out of all the dramatic stuff I did expect, I didn't expect him to get what was coming to him.

Charlie on the tree roots.

"Homophobia!"

That Nick and Charlie's date is at a place where they can both be open and carefree about their relationship. Charlie gets a golden memory, Nick gets reassurance that everything will be okay.

Whoops, apparently there's a character limit?

[samuraiko]

Are you still doing those vignette requests? Would love to see you write about a conversation between fearne and orym after ep 34 (also do you think fearne lied about the coin flip or no? Pretty popular theory going around right now)

After the events of C3E33 and C3E34, I wasn't quite up to re-opening vignette requests, but... this is an idea I'd been somewhat pondering in my head already, so I'll answer this particular Ask.

Re: the theory... I genuinely don't know. I imagine it'll come out in the wash later, one way or another.

"Living With One's Choices"

It was late afternoon, or so Orym guessed as he sat cross-legged on the floor, Imogen curled up around Laudna's body to his left, Fearne curled up against him on his right. Even in her sleep, Fearne had one hand on his knee, her fingers loosely clutching his pants leg in her grip as though afraid he'd disappear.

Orym glanced over at Imogen, who was weeping softly in her sleep, and he gently tucked an errant lock of her hair back behind her ear, and Imogen subsided into silence once more. On Laudna's other side was Ashton, one hand resting on Laudna even in sleep. FCG was powered down nearby, and Chetney was in a small ball at Laudna's feet.

He felt a faint tugging at his pants leg, and Orym turned back to see Fearne's eyes were open and gazing up at him, shining with tears.

"You need to sleep," he whispered to her, but she shook her head.

"Not just yet. I... I'm sorry, Orym."

"For what?"

Fearne sniffled and let go of him just long enough to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand.

"I was... I was selfish. I brought you back, because I was scared and... I was lonely and I... I was so afraid for you."

Orym looked down at her in concern. "Why?"

"When I was... well, dead... before Letters brought me back, I was in this awful place. It was green and dark and really icky, and all these eyes... and well, it was a little bit exciting, but I really didn't want to stay there. And when I woke up... and Grass said you were dead, too... I was so afraid that you were in a place like that and I couldn't just leave you there."

Then she began to cry in earnest. "But now I've left Laudna there, and I feel terrible."

"Shhh, Fearnie, shhh." He stretched out next to her and hugged her, rubbing her shoulders in slow circles. "It wasn't like that for me. Not in the slightest bit. I think it's different for everyone. So don't you worry about Laudna. For all we know, she's with her mom and dad again. And she told me... she told me a while back how she'd had a lot of great things happen to her since... well, since she died. And she had a lot of love in her. I don't think she'd blame you at all."

"What do you think she'd say?"

"I think... she'd tell you to take care of Imogen. And be there for her."

"I was going to do that anyway. And, well, I did promise her that we'd find a way to bring her back."

"Then that's what we'll do. Together."

Fearne was quiet for a little bit, then very softly, Orym heard, "What... was it like? For you?"

Fresh pain tore through Orym's heart like a jagged blade, but he swallowed hard. "I was... in Zephrah. And it was just as beautiful as I remember it. And..." He tried valiantly, but still the tears fell. "Will... was there. My beautiful Will. Waiting for me."

Tears welled up in Fearne's eyes once more. "Oh, no... no no no and I stole you away from him-"

"Shhh." Orym hugged her even tighter and pressed his forehead against Fearne's. "No. Don't you dare think that. I chose to come back. And Will understands why. There's still so much to do. So much to set right. And you need me." He pulled away just long enough to kiss Fearne's forehead and then rested his against hers once more.

"It's okay... I promise." A flash of a sad smile crossed his face, and without thinking about it, he imitated Laudna's cultured tones. "'Focus your brain forward. It's not worth being sad about what can't be changed.' That's what she said. So that's what we'll do."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay. You're the smart one." Fearne hugged him closer. "I'm so glad you're my friend, Orym. Thank you for coming back to me." Then she closed her eyes, and Orym heard her whisper, "And thank you, Will, for understanding. About the whole stealing thing. It's borrowing, really."

Despite himself, Orym chuckled. "Now get some sleep. We've all had a really long day." He sat up once more and settled himself comfortably in a cross-legged position, only to feel Fearne once again reach out and take his hand in hers.

Before long, he heard her breathing become slow and steady, leaving Orym alone in the stillness with his thoughts, remembering the warmth of Will's embrace, and feeling the warmth of Fearne's hand in his.

[lesbicosmos]

heartstopper episode 5 thoughts

-this is why me and my friends don't play monopoly, it would end in chaos. also it's boring.

-elle is so goddamn pretty in this scene i am so in love with her oh my

-slightly unrelated but i need charlie's owl mug like rn

-honestly the amount these two flirt in form, how nobody else figured it out i have no clue. guys ur meant to be being subtle 😭

-tao's comebacks >>>

-"do you like this girl" "well...her dog died." HIS MUMS FACE IS TOO FUNNY OLIVIA COLMAN I LOVE YOU

-like there was ever any doubt who nick would choose between charlie and imogen

-isaac casually reading radio silence like this isn't giving me an existential crisis over whether time travel exists in this universe bc that book literally mentions nick and charlie and is set like 3 years in the future

-once again, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE BEING SUBTLE GUYS IF U WANT NO ONE TO KNOW STOP GIVING EACH OTHER HEART EYES IN PUBLIC 😭

-**insert tao looking tiny in the doorway in the bathroom scene in the comic**

-also moment of appreciation for elle's outfit, her style is everything and i'm in love with her (yes im gonna bring up that every time i mention her, i'm in love.)

-nick looks legitimately terrified of tao and i don't blame him (also the bloopers of this scene are <3333)

-i need to know the context for why charlie's scared of the dance machine.

-nick apologising and explaining the imogen situation and charlie completely understanding just shows how much they care about each other and how much they communicate. nick could not be less like ben if he tried

-the way nick says he didn't have time to go out and buy anything yet still had time to put so much care into that frame and he definitely panicked over whether he chose the right photo or put the stickers in the right place. this mf just wanted to be a disaster romantic and i love him for it

-subtle detail i noticed: the way nick's hand shakes slightly when he moves it to the back of charlie's neck when they kiss, he's so nervous about kissing him in public but also really wants to do it

-has/will nick ever beat charlie at mario kart? probably not

-that moment between tao and elle and the way she looks at him i love them so much

-i love the scene between nick and imogen, i really want them to be best friends in season 2. she's so understanding even if she doesn't fully understand exactly what nick's going through, and the way she doesn't pry or continue to try and get him to date her, she just accepts it and moves on. also nick was so brave for talking to imogen about it in general. i also love how she makes a joke out of it when they're with harry and doesn't say why they actually didn't go out because she knew harry would make fun and ask questions. just ... imogen heaney <333

-i do have to say im kinda mad about i want to be with you by chloe moriondo being played at the end of this episode after the nick and imogen scene because it's such a nick/charlie song in the comics, hoping it gets reused in later seasons in one of their scenes

[clocks-are-round]

yeah so i ended up writing this. maybe i’ll incorporate it into a longer fic eventually but for now here’s this. i just kinda rolled with it and it turned out fun.

References my fic Dysfunctional

——

“Was there a reason your father and I weren’t made aware of your wedding?” Her arms were crossed in true Karen fashion.

“Yeah,” Simmons said, “I didn’t think of you. And even if I had, I wouldn’tve wanted you to come. Things didn’t exactly go well when I visited.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Imogen bit her lip. “Grif, you may have been right in your… constructive criticism. My efforts weren’t working because I was troubleshooting the wrong area.”

Grif nudged Simmons, “You really take after your mom, don’t you?”

“What? Why would you think that?” they said simultaneously.

“In any case,” Imogen continued, “I will do my best to be more open to feedback. Your father is a definite work-in-progress, but I think if he can allow himself to learn, he’ll stop pushing you away. If he doesn’t, I’ll just get him cancelled by letting it slip that he’s transphobic and actually disowned his son for years for that very reason— oh no, Jimmy my darling! I couldn’t silence the press in time!”

“Mom, you wouldn’t!”

“You’re right, but it’s kind of funny to imagine his face as everything he’s built up falls down around him.”

“The Imogen Simmons I know never resorts to humor! I don’t hear any laughter. Should I warn the CIA that my mom is a nefarious supervillain?”

“No!” She covered her smile trying to hold it in, “I just—“

“Hello, Mr President? Are you aware of the social superpower that is Imogen Simmons? It would take all our forces to even attempt to stop that woman once she’s made up her mind!”

A snort escaped through her giggles, “Dickie!”

Grif smiled. This was a completely different vibe from when he had dinner with them. This was nice.

——

“Is Grif short for something?”

“No, it’s just my last name.”

“Oh, would you prefer I call you by your first?”

Grif shrugged. Not really.

“Fair enough. We’re not exactly close.”

“Uh, also… You were right about something too.”

“Yes?” Jesus, that got her full attention.

“Or at least, you got me thinking about what I wanted to do with my life. And if there was someone I’d want to settle down with. If you hadn’t brought that up, I probably would’ve taken a lot longer to tell Simmons how I felt about him.”

——

“What did you say? She looks really proud of herself, which usually means something big.”

“Eh, she’s kind of the reason I confessed to you. That night you didn’t realize I was confessing to you.”

“She was? And you told her? You know she’s going to tell that story constantly right? We’re going to be hearing her brag about it every time we see her, so if she does become part of my life again—“

“There are worse things than a story about how we ended up together.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“You guyssss!!” A familiar falsetto shouted.

They turned. Sure enough, running towards them was—

“Donut??”

He leaped and hooked his arms around their necks, kissing each of their cheeks before they could react.

“Ugh, Jesus, keep it in Europe—“

“I heard the news! I can’t believe you guys are expecting!”

“Donut. What the FUCK are you talking about??”

“Expecting what?? I don’t have ovaries!”

“Forget your ovaries, there’s no fucking way my balls survived Tex.”

“What? No, expecting company! I heard you were patching things up with your mom, Simmons!”

“Jesus Christ, at least with the innuendos we knew what to expect.”

“Pun intended?”

“Shut up.”

“Wait, how did you hear about that? It just happened!”

“Well, I just heard about it. From Sam.”

“Locus! Stop being a fucking creep!”

“Yeah, seriously, Donut. Tell your partner to stop snooping in everyone’s business.”

“He calls it reconnaissance.”

[neraidaastrid]

Nothin’ Like You

Kol Mikaelson x reader

Fandom: the vampire diaries/ the originals

Word Count:

Prompt: Nothin’ Like You~ Dan+Shay

Warnings: none

A/N: hope you like it!

I remember when I first met you                                                                             Sippin’ coffee in a corner booth         

Exams were becoming stressful and most of your days were spent studying. The Mystic Grill was the best place for you, Food and  quiet chatter so your didn’t lose complete focus with the silence. You sat in a corner booth with a pile of books for the couses you were taking. Senior year is always stressful since you wanted to to well enough to get a decent job without having to go to college. 

                                                                                                                                  You were twirling your hair                                                                                      And I just had to stair for a minute or two                                                                     I was laughing at your stack of books        

A tick of yours was to play with your hair when bored or anxious. The words of the text was being read, just not processed in your brain, so you ended up reading the same extract again and again. The Grill had suddenly become slightly louder as some people walked in. Two men who you knew were new in town walked in. They were brothers. Nothing important, so you got back to your tasks.

Kol had just entered the Grill with Klaus for a few evening drinks when a girl caught his eye. She had a pile of textbooks to the side of her and she was fiddling with a strand of hair, biting her bottom lip. The original vampire thought she looked gorgeous

                                                                                                                                 Then you shot me that smile                                                                                   Hey beautiful girl in your own little world                                                                                    Let me in it                      

You raised your head from the book to find Kol Mikaelson staring at you with his devilishly handsome smirk. All you could do was return a small smile, tucking the piece of hair you were twisting behind your ear.

                                                                                                                                                    You got all of my attention                                                                                           And you ain’t even trying     

Exams were finally over; you had some time to spend, so you thought why not go out with some friends. Your friends, Tiffany and Imogen, dragged you to a little cafè on the edge of town. The three of you sat on a little table outside of the building, drinking coffee. Kol strolled past and your laughter rung in his ears. Even though you weren’t trying to be noticed by anyone, your pure innocence made his heart skip a beat.

                                                                                                                                                                                              Yeah, you're my kinda different                                                                               And I've never seen                                                                                                                 Nothin’ like you                                               

The original vampire’s chest was your pillow as you slept ontop of him. Arms keeping your body close. Kol couldn’t keep his eyes off of your beauty. Your face alone making the vampire swoon, let alone your personality. The pure kindness in your being. The way your face could light up any room, it made him love you unconditionally.

                                                                                                                                           Shades on, spinning in the summer rain                                                                      Dancing when there ain’t no music        

Rain fell all over your beings. Kol held you by the waist as you swayed, your arms around his neck. Your giggles when he spinned you out and tugged you back into him, echoed in his brain, memorising every moment. He wanted this to last forever, never letting you go or get hurt. Your smile making his stomach form butterflies. It was like he was in heaven.

                                                                                                                          Just the right kind of crazy, baby                                                                                      There’s something ‘bout you                                                                                         Rockin’ that rock and roll t-shirt      

Kol took you to your favourite band’s concert. The original wasn’t a huge fan of the music, but he knew you loved it, so he put up with it. As long as you were happy, he didn’t mind. While music blasted into your ears, Kol pulled you by the hips, lovingly pressing his lips onto yours. You felt giddy with joy, like a thirteen year old girl going on her first date. The both of you grinned through the kiss, you hooking your arms behing his neck, nipping at the back of his hair. This man did magical things to your insides.     

                                                                                                                                  When we party dressed up                                                                                     But you just doing your thing                                                                                         Ain’t nobody ever seen                                                                                           Nothin’ like you        

Your dress swished as Kol twirled you on the dance floor. The Mikaelson’s were having a ball at the moment, and your vampire Boyfriend gave you a blush princess ball gown. Floral lacey bodice, the pattern fading away as it puffed out on the petticoat. It was gorgeous, but Kol would’ve thouht that you looked stunning in anything, maybe even in nothing. 

One of his hands on your waist, while the other one intertwined with yours. Your petite hand laid ontop of his broad shoulder. “You look stunning, darling.” He cooed into your ear. “I think your may have mentioned that to me already, but i’m not sure, maybe you need to say it again.” Kol’s signature smirk played on his lips as you teased him.

                                                                                                                             When your wearing them worn out jeans                                                               Purple untied shoe strings         

You stepped into the Mikaelson’s mansion in ripped jeans and a tank top. You wandered down the hallway, bumping into Rebekah, A.K.A, one of your good friends. Her eyes looked you up and down, her facial expressions practically speaking to you. “We get it Rebekah, you don’t like my fashion.” You loved the vampire but she always commented on your ripped clothing. “Obviously you can rock anything, but it’s nothing amazing.”

“I think she looks fabulous.” The voice you recognised far too well. Kol appeared behing you, so you turned and jumoed into his arms, him catching you by the thighs, kissing your lips. “Ugghhhh. Get a room.”

                                                                                                                                     You’re a light in the dark                                                                                                  And you're stealing my heart like a gypsy      

Kol had gotten into an argument with his familly, and asked you to come over. You stumbled into his room, tripping over your feet. His face held so much frustration, but as soon as your face came into view, he lit up immediantly. “Hey....” You bit your lip walking over to the original. 

                                                                                                                                    I love the way that you kiss me                                                                               In front of everybody                                                                                               So baby come and kiss me                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Never seen nothin’ like you

Kol’s hands pulled your flush to his, stradling his legs. Lips moving simutanously in sync. Your hands cupped his cheeks, deepening the kiss. His hands roamed the surface your body in the heated moment. Him using vamp speed, flipped you over, Kol hovering over your temple of a body. You were his muse and he was yours.

[unicyclehippo]

speedrun - cr3

‘the idea of this retreat is very simple! we’re gonna - respectfully, kindly, lovingly - speedrun our way through a couple things. we’ll start with a session on gettin’ in touch with our inner child, move along to lovin’ ourselves the way we are now, and finally, hopefully we’ll be at the point where we can really work together as a team, a - a cohesive unit! first in a safe and collaborative environment and then,’ FCG’s beaming smile dimmed just a smidge, ‘well, then we put it into practice straight away. in a super dangerous, super unfamiliar, super scary place. which is why it’s so important that we all give this retreat a hundred and ten per cent!’

his words met a strained and cautious silence.

laudna’s voice slipped into the silence like a serpent. ‘you’re hoping that we can…train ourselves into being a team.’

‘that’s right!’

‘and that is supposed to help us get over the loss of having only recently been family.’

FCG blinked. ‘well, that’s an interestin’ way to look at it.’ he glanced to imogen, then back to laudna, and continued kindly. ‘personally, i don’t think we’ve stopped being family. all my reading and chattin’ on the topic has really opened my eyes and my heart to the possibility that just because we’ve hit a bit of a rough patch doesn’t mean everything we made is wrong. something just needs a little mending—if you’re willing to put the work in. if you want it to be fixed at all.’

she frowned down at them, curling deeper into her own shadow the longer they spoke. ‘what if it’s not broken?’ she mused in a voice tatter-thin, mere cobwebs. ‘what if it’s burnt? what if there’s ruins where once there stood a home?’

‘laudna.’

dark eyes leapt to violet. a crooked smile clattered across a sad face. ‘i’m sorry, dear. i’m being cryptic again.’

‘just a little,’ imogen agreed with a nod and gentle nudge.

‘i don’t mean to be.’

‘i know.’

‘i just mean—what if when you go home to the only place you can remember living, scrounging together a life, and it’s been so long since you were there and you were expecting it to be the same almost even though it’s been decades because you haven’t changed so it shouldn’t have either but then you arrive on the outskirts of that clearing and the home you remember is rubble and ash and you think how funny it is to see it and sit in the soot because somehow you forgot, silly thing, that you died and came back and maybe you have changed too.’ laudna blinked her big black eyes around the circle at each of them, guileless, almost childish in her raw honesty. ‘what point would there be in rebuilding? there’s next to nothing left.’

imogen crouched beside her. brushed dark locks behind cruel-cut ears.

‘there’s enough for a doll, isn’t there?’

‘yes.’

‘there was enough to keep you safe for a night, ‘til i could find you?’

‘yes.’

‘sounds like a pretty great place to me,’ imogen whispered and leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead. laudna made a noise like a creaking floorboard and leaned into the gentle touch.

[sshbpodcast]

Tales from the Holodeck: DS9 Fanfic: Caitlin’s Story

Not only has A Star to Steer Her By wrapped all of Deep Space Nine, but your podcast hosts are also celebrating our fifth anniversary of bringing you through all of Star Trek! As a treat, we’ve concocted DS9-themed fanfic stories and teleplays in our much-celebrated “Tales from the Holodeck” series that you can listen to us cold read here (this one starts at 2:53). Read on for the transcript of Caitlin’s Opaka-Damar story below, featuring a whole new take on the series finale!

[images © Paramount/CBS]

Caitlin’s Untitled Story!

By Caitlin

Random picks: Kai Opaka, Damar

The bipedal humanoid grunted with displeasure as his shovel hit something hard. “Damned lava rock!” he cursed, pulling a pick from where it swung at his belt and kneeling. “Every damn time I think I’ve made progress…” He braced himself and took a firm swing at the as yet unseen rock, using all of his strength - 

- and the pick shattered, a bright light emitting from below.

“What the devil - “ He shrank back, falling onto his buttocks and looking on in terror. “What witchcraft is this?!” He looked around for his companions, yelling, “Darv! Grekon!”

The two other men approached, shovels resting on their shoulders as they approached. “Triev! What the hell is that?” asked one, Darv, as he jogged up.

“Don’t get any closer!” said the one called Grekon. “The Kai should see this.”

* * * *

“I don’t blame you for being scared, my friends,” said Kai Opaka warmly, a warm smile crossing her broad face. “Such a thing has almost certainly never been seen Ennis or Sol-Ennis before - truth be told, I’m not sure how it came to be here.”

“But, what is it, your Eminence?” asked Triev, fear assuaged but replaced with distrust.

“This is what the Klingons would call a time crystal,” said the Kai, reaching out with a shawl-covered hand to lift it from the ground. “It is very special, very powerful, and must be put away where it can do no harm. I will store it in my quarters under lock and key. And who knows. One day, the prophets may reveal their purpose in sending it here to me.”

* * * *

Opaka woke from her dream with a start, and sat bolt upright in her simple cot. 

“My lady, what is it?” came the gentle voice of the former Kai’s trusted servant, Saline.

“I’ve had a vision! For the first time since I arrived here, the Prophets have reached me! And they have shown me what I must do,” said the Kai, rising from her bed and moving to her modest dresser. “Come, girl, help me put a few things together - the fate of my entire home quadrant could rely on my actions of the next few days!”

The confused girl rushed to do as bidden, with a murmured, “yes, m’lady,” and helped the Kai gather her few traveling necessities into a bundle. As she did so, Opaka crossed the room to the one lavish item in her home - a small, elaborately decorated box, tightly locked, its contents hidden from view. She drew a leather cord from under her robes, revealing a series of small keys. 

“I must ask for your complete silence, child,” the Kai whispered. “The mechanism in this box needs concentration and precision - an incorrect step in the unbinding process could cause the entire place to go up in an explosion you cannot imagine.”

The girl’s face paled as she watched the Kai, gently inserting key after key, twisting them each to measured intervals, her hands quick and meticulous.

As the lock sighed and released, the Kai kissed the keys and whispered, “thanks be to the Prophets for their guidance!” Before removing the box’s contents - the time crystal.

* * *

“But you eminence!” protested Triev. “How will you get there? And how will you return? And how will you keep us from all dy-”

“The Prophets work in mysterious ways!” the Kai said hurriedly. “Besides, with the aid of a Time Crystal, surely all will be well. Now never fear - since I’ll be using the crystal to stop the flow of time on this planet, I���ll literally be back before you even realize I’ve gone!”

* * *

She watched from the shadows as it all played out, saying a silent prayer to the Prophets for their guidance. 

WINN: Dorra tolka bre tri pah wran. Kosst Amojan, come to me! I await you.

But the wraith did not want Winn, and threw her against the rocks. Passing her by just as the Prophets have, thought Opaka.

The wraith went straight for the prostrate corpse that was once Gul Dukat, and entered him. An instant later, Dukat’s eyes opened, blood red, as he returned to his Carassian appearance.  

“No!” cried Winn, her hopes of being the chosen of the pah wraiths dashed, truly a woman with nothing left.

DUKAT: Did you really think the Pah wraiths would choose you to be their Emissary? Soon the Pah wraiths will burn across Bajor, the Celestial Temple, the Alpha Quadrant. Can you picture it? A entire universe set in flames, to burn for all eternity. The Prophets have sent me a gift. Their beloved Emissary, sent forth like an avenging angel to slay the demon.

SISKO: I should have known the demon would be you.

DUKAT: Go on. Kill me if you can.

(Sisko's rifle is thrown out of his hands.)

DUKAT: You'll have to do better than that, Captain.

(Dukat zaps Sisko with an energy bolt.)

DUKAT: This is too easy. That's it. Come closer. That's it.

(Sisko punches Dukat. And again. No effect.)

DUKAT: Now bow to me. I said bow.

(Sisko is pushed to his knees.)

SISKO: You are pathetic.

DUKAT: Then why are you the one on your knees?

SISKO: First the Dominion, now the Pah wraith. You have a talent for picking the losing side.

DUKAT: Benjamin, please. We've known each other too long. And since this is the last time we will ever be together, let's try to speak honestly. We've both had victories and our defeats. Now it's time to resolve our differences and face the ultimate truth. I've won, Benjamin. You've lost.

SISKO: The Pah wraith will never conquer anything. Not Bajor. Not the Celestial Temple. And certainly not the Alpha Quadrant.

DUKAT: And who's going to stop us?

SISKO: I am.

DUKAT: You can't even stand up.

WINN: Then I'll stop you.

(Winn raises the Kosst Amojan above her head, and it vanishes to reappear in Dukat's grasp.)

DUKAT: Are you still here?

WINN: Emissary, the book!

(Wraiths surround Winn and she bursts into flames.)

DUKAT: Farewell, Adami.

It is now or never, thought Opaka, it is time to save the Emissary, and the Alpha quadrant!

“That will prove to be your final error in judgment, Dukat.”

The Cardassian whirled around, his red eyes blazing, and a look of shock overtook his usually confident features. “Kai… Opaka? No, this can’t be, you’re dead -”

“I’m afraid reports of my death are greatly exaggerated,” smiled Opaka. “A sentiment you won’t be able to share for much longer.”

Dukat threw back his head and laughed, though the fear still shone in his eyes. “Such arrogance, to think you stand a chance against me. Do you still foolishly cling to your precious prophets? Your Emissary is on his knees, trembling, before me, and I have made easy work of your hypocrite of a Kai - what do you intend to do?”

“It isn’t the Kai you should be concerned with, Dukat,” said a familiar voice.

It couldn’t be - that pathetic little worm would never dare speak to me like this...Dukat thought, mind racing wildly. He turned, shock clearly written across his reptilian face, and saw -

“Damar! How?! You… you died!” gasped Sisko, his mouth agape.

“The Prophets have seen fit to give me a gift - a new life, to give in service to Cardassia…. And to Bajor,” said Damar. It was then that Dukat noticed the bright blueness of his eyes, the energy radiating off of him. 

“DAMAR!” he cried, as the other man -  once his second in command, his right hand man, a mentee and comrade in the fight for Cardassian supremacy - stood before him, hands outstretched, power gathering at his fingertips. “You fool - you think you can defeat me?”

“What began on Deep Space Nine will be finished now,” said Damar. “And this time, Winn won’t be here to stop you.”

The Kosst Imogen threw back Dukat’s head and laughed gutturally. “We shall see who will be stopping whom!”

 The two squared off, beams of energy shooting from their hands - Dukat’s was a sickly blood red, and Damar’s a pure blue beam. The sacrifices that had been made for the Kosst Imogen had made them strong - too strong, perhaps, to be beaten by the Prophet inside of Damar. 

Kai Opaka prayed then her most earnest prayer - for a Prophet to take her and allow her to assist Damar in the fight. A flash of light, and she was face to face with Sara; she did not know that this was Sisko’s mother, but she knew she was face to face with a powerful force. 

“Sulan,” she said. “I will help you to provide aid during this fight. We had not foreseen this, but perhaps this is the best way.”

Opaka felt power unlike anything she had ever known filling her body, and she found herself next to Damar, not sure of how she had arrived there, but with her body moving seemingly of its own accord - of the accord of hte Prophet! - to join in the fight. 

Blue energy flew from her hands to join Damar’s, and the two of them pushed against the Pah Wraith, feeling him start to slide back.

“NO!” cried Dukat. “No, this cannot be! This cannot be - ahhhhhhhhhhh!” Even the Kosst imogen was no match for the power of two Prophets. The once-Cardassian plummeted over the side of the cliff, disappearing into the flames below.

As quickly as they had entered, the Prophets left Opaka and Damar, and the two collapsed - one back to the peace of death, the other into the oblivion of sleep.

* * *

Opaka awoke in the familiar setting of her home, Saline standing over her. “My lady, you’ve returned to us!”

“Wha - How did I get here? How long have I - “ Opaka halted mid sentence, as she was taken by another vision.

“You have done well, Sulan,” Sara, again, stood before Opaka. “We wish to reward you… what can we give you that would make you happy?”

“To serve the Prophets is all the reward I need,” said Opaka. “But… it would mean the world to me, to save the inhabitants of this planet, and return to my home - return to Bajor.”

“As you wish,” said Sara. “So it shall be. Return to Bajor, and serve once again as our Kai. Help to guide the Sisko and prepare him for what the future holds.”

—

For more DS9 fanfic, check out Jake, Chris, and Ames’s stories from this round of Tales from the Holodeck! And be sure to keep listening to new episodes every Thursday on SoundCloud, follow us on Facebook and Twitter, and praise the prophets, my child! They work in mysterious ways.

[bcketts]

TASK 09. GOODBYE ALLIE!

thank you.

it's bittersweet waking up the next morning. she doesn't bring much with her, most of her stuff is still at georgetown, but she remembers thinking of when she first arrived at gallagher; how scared she was, how much she wanted to leave. she looks back at the fortress and pretty much thinks the same things, and by the time the hour-long car ride to washington d.c. is done, gallagher already feels a bit like a dream. the only thing that makes it seem real at all is jack's old watch, heavy on her wrist and clunky. it's already got a few scratches from where she keeps banging it on things, throwing her hands up in the air or about, whacking it on doors and windows. but it's a sturdy thing.

dazed and confused.

they're all allowed to pick up their things, which have been packed haphazardly into boxes for them by residential life, but allie gets two boxes. there's not much she can do with them but decide to ship them home, so she takes an uber to the post office with two boxes of things, not caring enough to go through what's inside, but mostly scared that she might start bawling. it's a weird thing, getting her phone back, and she doesn't expect it to be so dang heavy! she also thought she'd have missed a lot more text messages, but she supposes that she traveled with all her best friends, so how could they have texted her? she gets chipotle in town with a few of her friends before heading to the airport, and it feels nice to sit with the other members of the club and do something normal, just for a little while.

bring it on home.

getting home is the hard part, because she hasn't seen her parents in months and she's worried they hate her, but the second she sees them near the baggage claim, tears spring to her eyes and she's running at them full-force into a big bear hug. they smell the same. she loves her mom's perfume and her family's detergent and the way her dad laughs with his belly. but it's obvious that there's something missing, they can all tell, and the presence of their daughter just hammers home the absence of their son. the group hug feels awkward with just three people, like she's not sure where to put her hands without jeremy around, and her parents keep finding themselves saying "you two" or referring to allie as a plural when she's really just one, a half of a whole.

that’s the way.

"i'm sorry about that phone call, while i was at school," allie says.

"that's alright, you were under a lot of stress."

"no, dad, i meant it. i don't believe the same things any more." and she expects to get yelled at, to get chewed out, but he just looks at her and nods and there's a moment of prolonged silence between them.

"sometimes, i'm not so sure myself. but what else is there?" and that makes allie very quiet, and she thinks she understands why her dad clings so hard to the things he believes in, and it's the exact same reasons why she can't keep clinging to them any longer.

over the hills and far away.

what allie doesn't do: visit her brother's grave and mope around her sad house. what she does do: says forget about it and takes off to the hamptons.

she gets one perfect week. that's what she keeps calling it – her perfect week. where she goes to visit levi in his home in the hamptons, flinging herself into his arms and covering him with tiny kisses just because she can. it's a whirlwind of a week where she gets very sunburnt, laughs all the time, and forgets for a while what it's like to be arkansas allie. she misses gallagher allie sometimes, and she wonders if she'll ever figure out how to be the perfect balance between the two, but right now, she's happy to spend many hours feeling someone else entirely: and that someone is rich! or at least as rich as levi madden is! and that someone has a lot of sex and spends a lot of time laughing and even though she's getting a college degree from an ivy league that could make her a whole lot of money someday, allie thinks that maybe being a trophy wife wouldn't be so bad. she loves the way he smiles, or the way he smiles at her, and she tries not to count the amount of times he does it like each one might be the last and she's got to save every single one of them.

she cries her eyes out when they say goodbye at the airport because she knows it's for real this time, and the thanks him for all the ways he made her feel sane, made her feel like herself again when personhood seemed like an impossible label to reclaim. but she also knows that despite all their pretending, that he's from a different world than she is. "don't let yourself be alone," she says, "just because you won't have a normal person life doesn't mean you shouldn't have people." because most of all, she's terrified that one day levi will be forty-something and he'll look like jack, packing his bags up with no one to go home to. "okay? and please write. you promised. or, i guess you could text me, if you want to be all twenty-first century about it." and she kisses him one last time but she's so caught up in her head about it being the last time that she can't really enjoy it, not properly.

what is and never should be.

allie goes home sunkissed and smiling, because it's sad but it's the final goodbye in the weirdest chapter of her life thus far. and then, summer resumes like normal. she's going to church on sundays with her parents, working the food drive and the bake sale, and facetiming imogen, marlowe, or luce, or...whoever will pick up the phone at any chance she can get.

on the fourth week, she develops a urinary tract infection. this is because she hates to go to the bathroom and she's always holding it, because she knows to get to the toilet, she's going to have to walk by jeremy's room and remember that he's not inside, and wonder what it looks like. so, she makes herself sick, from holding it all in. but it's sort of a wakeup call, a way too obvious metaphor – almost like it was created by a really uncreative writer. she's got to face things eventually.

since i’ve been loving you.

allie can't even open the door to jeremy's room at first, mainly because her parents have plopped his big box of stuff right in front of the door. everything else is exactly how he left it. there's gum wrappers in the trash can, socks strewn across the floor. she checks under the bed and that's how she knows her parents haven't been there – there's still that box of dirty magazines, which atty used to make fun of jeremy for having. "you do know there's the internet, right?" but jeremy was into it for the aesthetic, there was something so much more authentic to jerking off to something on print rather than pixelated. and atty would say it was pretentious. conversations like this used to make allie want to die, and they still do, because she kicks the box back and whispers, "euch." and his weed is still in the sock drawer, which is a remarkably boring place to have put it. he never used to smoke or do anything until he went to college, but allie blames atty's influence. a while ago, allie would've been a good sister and thrown it out, in case her parents ever did catch him for all the weird stuff hidden in different drawers, but instead, she puts one of his led zeppelin records on and lights up, but she has to facetime milena to figure out how to use the grinder, so perhaps it's not as poetic as it sounds.

and then she goes through the box of stuff from his dorm. there's a lot of pictures of imogen, of course, and that makes her heart hurt, because she can literally see where he used to keep them on his walls, the holes of old push pins. his violin, his skateboard, all the things he used to do to keep himself occupied. allie never knew someone so busy and so lazy at the same time. she sighs, lays down on his bed and looks up at the ceiling, knowing every crack and line by heart. it aches, everywhere, but she has to get up to skip stairway to heaven, since that's just too dang ironic.

ramble on.

allie visits his grave on the last day of summer, but it's nothing like his room. she goes with her parents and allie's a sympathetic crier, so when her mom cries, she cries too, but she can't help but think that this isn't where jeremy is. with all the dead people. he's in his room, with all the things that made him himself, or he's at georgetown, laughing with her and her friends in an amnesty international meeting. he's still around, in a way. he's just not here.

bring it on back.

it's the first time that she's ever traveled from pointsett to washington, d.c. alone, but by now it's late august and she's feeling alright, almost excited for the fresh start – to see steph, hudson, and matt again, to start dreaming again how they'll save the world. because it's always more exciting to conspire with friends than alone. but of course, thoughts of gallagher academy linger in the back of her mind, and as she moves to get her bag, she whacks the clunky watch on her wrist on the overhead compartment. she shakes her wrist out, but she smiles as she wheels her suitcase down the aisles and head to hail an uber, grateful for the small reminder that she's not alone, and that it wasn't a dream.

[macybeckham7]

Army Medic - Eric Dier

Part Six

‘You’re so good with them’ Eric chimes as he pulls his girlfriend on his lap.

She smiles as she tries to catch her breath after running around the garden like headless chicken with Eric’s niece and nephew.

‘They are good kids’ you gush.

She feels a shiver run down her spin as he leaves a trail of wet kisses down her jaw. She pulls away from him as she was very aware of her surroundings which was a perfect view for his family to see you.

‘Have you ever thought about having kids?’ He asks casually as you watch his niece and nephew run around for the football.

She hums before shaking her head. ‘I’m only 22’ she giggles. ‘No I haven’t really thought about it’

‘I have’ he mutters as she looks down him. ‘I want 2 boys and 2 girls, and I want them to be a perfect mix of us two, but I want them to have your soft eyes that always sparkle, and a pure heart what only wants the best for others’ he smiles confidently.

She smiles. ‘Do I get a say in the matter?’ She questions with him shaking his head making them giggle.

YN snapped herself out of her daydream as walked into the canteen and found no one. She let out a frustrated sigh and marched knowing exactly where they’d be, the briefing room.

She walks in and finds Curtis stood in his place as he looks at Captain and Sergeant who stood infront. YN looked around and everyone was there, they all turned to look at you as Henry noticed you.

‘Sorry I didn’t get the memo of this briefing’ she says gently, as she gives Sergeant a glare.

‘This is a very highly sensitive-’

Animal cut him off. ‘Blah blah, with all due respect the army is about family, looking out for everyone’s back, I’m not going on the mission if YN doesn’t’

YN noticed his jaw clench, she looked at Sergeant but he didn’t say anything. YN roller her eyes before she caught eyes with Jason, Michael and Imogen. She turned on her heels and walked away.

Michael found YN on the roof, she sat with her back on the wall and she sketched which she did to calm herself down. He gently sat beside her and stayed quiet, he looked to see her drawing the London skyline.

‘Do you miss home?’ Quasi questioned.

She nods as she bites her lip. She let out a small shaky breath, as she gets emotional.

‘Hey?’ He whispers as he wraps his arm around her, she rested her head on his chest. ‘What’s wrong?’ He asked.

She cries harder. ‘I-I’m pregnant’

He holds her tighter as he gently kisses her forehead. He rocks them both side to side as he promises that things will get better.

‘When you going to tell Dier?’ He asks, but she doesn’t answer him. ‘Come on Smudge, you need to tell him because it’ll be pretty obvious when you rock up all pregnant, you are keeping it right?’ He says before pushing her off him.

Her face scrunches up. ‘I don’t know’

He gives her a confused look. ‘Come on, that guy loves the bones off you, he’ll be over the moon with the news.’

She looks up at him. ‘My life is-‘

He cuts her off. ‘Don’t you dare, say your life is here’

‘I’m not leaving half way through the tour’ she shakes her head. ‘Please don’t tell anyone, I need to be here’ she gives him her best puppy dog big eyes.

.....

The group split up in two different groups of six Captain took Animal, Jason and YN. YN held onto her little gun and stayed on Henry’s shoulder. They kept stealth as they needed to get in their rescue some British troops and get out there. They all watched Henry as he instructed them with hand gestures.

They got into a good position and watched trying to get eyes on the targets.

YN raised her brows at Curtis as she catches him staring at her. He could read Michael and YN so well, he knew something was going on.

‘What?’ She whispered yelled.

He shook his head ‘Nothing’ he mutters.

They were there for a good few hours when Henry decided it was time to move in. Michael who was at a higher point with his sniper, he kept his eyes on YN, feeling like he had to protect her the most as he was the only one who knew about her secret.

Eric noticed two coaches rushing towards Gareth, one was on the phone and he noticed they all looked concerned. He then noticed YN’s dad walking with two security men. Dele went with his teammate as he walks to his girlfriends father.

‘She’s been shot’ Her father said softly.

Eric felt his blood rush from his head, and suddenly felt light headed. The two coaches held onto him.

‘What do you mean she’s been shot? Is she going to be alright?’ Dele asked.

...

As soon as they arrived at the military base in London, Eric and YN’s parents were greeted by Curtis.

‘We were on a mission and it was a simple in and get the fuck out there.. Our captain got shot and YN ran back to help and got herself wounded in the process’ he explained.

They stopped outside of the room. ‘How bad is she?’ Her dad questioned.

‘It was a overhead shot, she’s got a hand wound and a shoulder wound on her left side’ he said in as sympathetic tone.

They all walked in but he stopped Eric.

YN could still hear the gunshots going off, the events playing infront of her eyes. They were all running for the getaway vehicle, YN was holding up one of the hostages as he was weakened to move alone. There was a sudden gunshot and she heard a small whimper. As she looked over her shoulder she saw Henry holding his side.

She instantly ran back and kept herself covered and started to talk to Henry. Before a middle aged guy appeared, she instantly shielded her captain and there was two shots before Quasi managed to sniper him.

She jumped awake and found herself in bed with her parents and Eric sat around her. Eric stood up as she hissed in pain as her parents called for a doctor.

‘You gave us a right scare’ Eric smiled as he leaned his forehead on hers and gave her a gently kiss.

‘Shh I know’ he says softly trying to get her to calm down.

YN’s parents left after a few hours but promising they’ll be back tomorrow. Eric sat on the bed with her and just keep looking at her hand. It hurt him deep inside knowing that another human being could be so ruthless and shoot another human.

He gently caressed her cheek with her seeing the emotion in his blue eyes, he pulled her in and hugged her.

‘Please don’t go back’ he whispered, with his voice cracking slightly.

He had thought he lost a piece of her before but this time he could of very easily lost her completely. He cried on her shoulder with her running her fingers through his hair.

‘I’m pregnant’ she mutters.

There was a brief moment of silence between them as he pulls away from her. His eyes looking down at her stomach and then back up at her face.

‘If you were pregnant you wouldn’t of been recruited’ he states.

‘I only found out...’

He cut her off. ‘You’ve known while you out there? Fuck YN, you signed up to honour your country but this baby didn’t’ he snaps.

‘Eric. I was scared’ she says truthfully.

He rolls his eyes. ‘No it’s more important for you to show your army friends that you still got it, you want to show Badger he wasn’t wrong to trust you, and you are willing to put OUR baby on the line’ he snaps.

He grabs his things and walks out, ignoring YN’s cries for him to not go and everyone’s look.