#again this is not a space for Imogen hate

[paperglader]

Laudna.

Back to the place where she died.

Back to the place where she has been brought back. Twice.

Still healing from that. Still not over how not too long ago she killed a man in cold blood because she lost control. Because of betrayal. Darkness. Hunger.

A little kid touched her chest and felt so much hatred that she had to run away, scared. A hatred that laudna did not put there, that is not her own but that she’s been made to carry.

Delilah. Imogen’s promise.

Ashton. Her friend. The one that’s as visually broken as her. The one that’s always got it. The one that’s enabled her behavior in the past. Comforted her. Betrayed her. Hurt Fearne. Almost didn’t make it through. Reckless. Stupid. Woke up something within her, something bad.

The shard. Delilah. Hunger. Fear. She’s gonna hurt someone again. Her old hut. Coldness.

“Sometimes you have to walk from whence you came to appreciate how far you’ve come.”

The woods. Her friends running after her again. Guilt. Shame.

Ashton’s doll.

Imogen, the one she loves, the one that gave her a reason to live, the one that has never shied away from her, that has loved her through it all. She took off the circlet that kept her away from Laudna’s thoughts– thoughts that once were musical, that truly were the first reason that drove them together– immediately told her that she was disgusted by what she now found within her, the recent state of presence of the woman that lives there. That haunts her. Her abuser, driving Imogen away.

Laudna’s not sure which of her wants or feelings are actually hers anymore.

Laudna dreams about a normal life. Sometimes. All the time..

[utilitycaster]

I think something really worth mentioning is that Dorian has pretty much been on the run since parting with Bells Hells in Jrusar - the Crown Keepers had to stay off the roads in their travels to avoid detection. For all that Bells Hells have had a time of it, they have had a few moments of respite, Team Wildemount especially, that Dorian simply hasn't had. And worse, most of the worst attacks have come from within and/or been deceptive ones - obviously Opal being over taken by Lolth, but also Fearne being lured away, Laudna in Zadash, Dominox, and Laudna again. And, of course, his brother, the entire purpose of his departure, has died.

I think the kindest thing Bells Hells can do for him is just make space for those feelings, hopefully address the Delilah situation with the current ritual, and let him figure things out. It might be that he still wants to kill the gods. It might be that he's more worried about specifically saving Opal. It might be that a chance to grieve Cyrus or even to breathe for a moment will change his mind, but it's entirely possible it won't. He was extremely quiet this episode; I'm not even sure he's ready to meet those feelings head-on quite yet.

More generally it's a bit like the god debates earlier in that there are characters I disagree with; but I'm saying this with a lot of knowledge that is not available to them. I don't think Ashton has ever had a worldview I would consider healthy, rational, or realistic, but I also think their cynicism comes from a very real place given their history. I think going on the Liliana assassination mission would have been an extremely fun option, but I get why Imogen wouldn't choose to do that. I (outside the text) don't agree with Dorian on an abstract philosophical level, but he's the character in the story actually being affected by events that happened to him. There's little more joyless than just jumping on to whichever characters embody your own personal positions and deciding they're right; feels a little like Brennan's note on propaganda, honestly, except a la carte cherrypicked rather than homemade. There might be some fun conflict but honestly, I think Dorian's also pretty disgusted with Ludinus in a way not unlike how Ashton feels, so it really may be they spend the remainder of the campaign with the attitude of "I'd gladly kill a god were the opportunity to present itself, but the Exandrian Accord seems to have room for people who feel this way but hate Ludinus more." An ideological argument, but not a practical one.

[rq-gift-exchange]

2024 Fourth Wing Gift Exchange Masterlist

Xaden/Violet

Violet Sorrengail's Guide to Spinning a Scandal by @caeli0306 for Cee_Darling (Cee_hoc)

Zihnal Must Hate Us by aspensquake for overjoyedisland

you will be healed and come back again by zencetera for HLizR50

Quiet Day In by lynnthere_donethat for shoo0637

Questions, Comments, Concerns by Kobo for aspensquake

Some Version of You by @booklover721 for caeli0306

Stolen Moments by Meyelemon for amberswansong

Fill Your Empty Spaces by @korrinamoe for sliebman10

Lights by Emjen_Enla for booklover721

Nothing Up My Sleeve by Nivaria for Kobo

Coming Home by @sliebman10 for tinyghosts

Get In, Loser, We're Going Shipping by oopsireaditagain for Meyelemon

I'm With You by ShadowMami for Aethelefaie

Bodhi/Ridoc

Pink Pony Club by @yanny-77 for everyone in the Rider’s Quadrant Discord Server and anyone who participated in the exchange

Perfect Storm by @hoeelliexx for Yanny77

Red: Basgiath’s version by @bestbookfriends for alltoowellread

Garrick/Imogen

I Belong In Your Arms by @sarahydeart for Lydibug522

Death of a Hero by @alexandia03 for siobhanbooks

The Odyssey of Imrrick by @ubiquitouslyme for AlexanDia03

Haven't Told Her by @sarcasticmothwrites for kalix_glaeser

I Think I’m in Love by @istarbel for justanothersarah

Homesick by @widebrimmedhatsblog for istarbel

Aaric/Sloane

The Grape Escape by @alltoowellread for korrinamoe

Yield by HeadCanonHeadCase for Fireheart_Rose

I’m Still Me by @hlizr50 for HeadCanonHeadCase

Brennan/Naolin

This can't be real by Portujules for Fantasy_bookwyrm

Resurrect My Heart, Too. by @greeneyedwildthing for Jeyfeather1234

Like fireflies to a flame by Jeyfeather1234 for Madame_Ladle, @benetnaschshugo

With You by ILoveMyThighs (curlyhairedkatniss) for shoo0637

Poly Ships

Xaden's Day Off by @alittlegirlwaitinginagarden for SuebsWrites

Thunderstorms and Sunshine by @tegantales for widebrimmedhat

Never Not Mine by amberswansong for TheBookworm_Writer

Enchanted by @suebswrites for Ubiquitously_Ubiquitous

Solace by @taumoebaa for Starfall_Spirit

Dragon Centric

Scales of Devotion by @witch-and-her-witcher for ACourtofLadyDeath

A Ray of Light in Shadowed Clouds by SaraNova for zencetera

Last One Standing by @acourtofladydeath for xadenviolet

X-reader/OC

Together At Last by We_were_beautiful for ScrumptiousDinosaurWizard

Our Time by @garricks4thwingqueen for We_were_beautiful

Together by HeadCanonHeadCase for Garricks4thwingueen

Liam/Violet

Learning in Aretia by overjoyedisland for to_be_real_now

Close to You by Cee_Darling (Cee_hoc) for Nivaria

Dain ships

Heart It Races by amberswansong for Portujules

Measure Up by SaraNova for Nedeit

Thnks fr th Mmrs by @copperfirebird for gemmaspumpkins

Liam/Jesinina

A Scribe's First Rider by Scarlet_Aeon for GreeneyedWildThing (TheWrittenMaze)

Bodhi/Sloane

These Games We Play by @starfall-spirit for hoelliexx

Other/Ship Neutral

Visiting Home by @quihi 

The Book Cat by justanothersarah, SuebsWrites for taumoebaa

How to not kill a dragon by Nedeit for lynnthere_donethat

Hangman (Teach Me How Not to Cry) by tinyghosts for Nedeit

just keep your head above by copperfirebird for Scarlet_Aeon

Letters from the Family Sorrengail by gemmaspumpkins for Quihi

Dear Brennan by SuebsWrites, Yanny77 for copperfirebird

Pulling Rank by HLizR50 for E_Hyde

A twist in fate by Fantasy_bookwyrm for copperfirebird

The Idiots of Basgiath War College by @siobhanbooks for oopsireaditagain

With Best Intentions by Nivaria for ShadowMami

[quietblueriver]

Was inspired by @horse-immorality's Imogen headcanons, so I wrote an origin story for one of them. Imogen likes to hang out in Fearne's mind and Fearne does her best to make Imogen blush.

Thanks so much for letting me have fun w your hc.

-

They were waiting to order another round at the bar, hemmed in on either side by the raucous crew of a skyship that had just received their pay and were eager to celebrate. Someone stumbled into her, sending her pitching forward toward Fearne, who used one arm to help steady her as Imogen braced against the bar. 

It didn’t hurt but it broke her concentration enough that his loudly projected curses broke through the walls of protection she tried to build in crowded spaces. 

Shit. Sometimes all it took was one, and now seemed to be one of those times. Suddenly the constant but manageable pressure of two dozen minds’ worth of muffled thoughts became a series of battering rams, and her walls began to crumble, pulling Imogen’s mind in twenty different directions. A familiar pounding began at the base of her skull.

He owes me a round…need to go see mom…where’s the fucking barkeep…think maybe I had one too many…

Imogen closed her eyes and gripped the bar in front of her with both hands, breathing deep and trying to start the process of rebuilding, of getting back to herself. 

It was often harder to fix a breach than to prevent one. Once her mind was open, she had to work to stop it from focusing on every thought possible, and in a bar like this one, there were so many thoughts, so many loud, drunken thoughts, for her to latch onto. If she could just get her mind away for a minute, she could…

“Did he hurt you?” 

Fearne’s voice, the faintest tinge of anger present in her typically dreamy tone, pressed through the din. Imogen opened her eyes to respond, only to be met with Fearne’s face close enough that their noses were almost touching, beautiful green eyes inspecting her entirely unselfconsciously, roaming over Imogen’s face as one of her hands moved to hover protectively at the small of her back.

Imogen cleared her throat and pulled her head back slightly, but Fearne seemed either not to notice or to care, one fluffy ear twitching as she waited for Imogen to respond. 

“Um…no. No. Sorry, it’s,” she lifted her hand and brought two fingers up, tapped twice in the air close to her temple. She could feel Fearne’s breath on her cheek as she explained, “Happens sometimes when there are a lotta people an’ I can’t, uh, keep ‘em out.” 

Her mouth twisted into a deeper frown, and Imogen hurried to reassure her, “It’s okay. I’m used to it. Just need a minute.”

It wasn’t a lie, really. Imogen just wasn’t totally sure she would just need a minute in this particular case. She was never sure. 

She couldn’t help but close her eyes again as she was hit with someone’s panicked push to the door, pangs of nausea echoing in her own stomach. Gods, she hated this. Imogen let out a breath, took another and tried to focus on creating a peaceful place for herself. 

When she opened her eyes again, Fearne’s hand was still planted at the small of her back, a sort of grounding pressure that Imogen appreciated, and she had leaned back a little, turned her attention to the rest of the bar. 

Her gaze wandered over Imogen’s shoulder for a moment before she returned to Imogen again. “Doesn’t seem as fun as I thought. Reading people’s minds.”

“It’s…” 

Poor bastard’s got no idea…How does it go again? There once was a lass from Nicodranas…Wha’ tha’ fuck’s on tha’ guy’s head…Can have one more, right? It’s early…

She sighed, pressed her fingers against her forehead and rubbed. “I just wish I had better control of it.” 

The hand not on Imogen moved to fiddle with a bloom of foxglove, the pink color a beautiful contrast to the green of her hair. “Is there anything that helps?”

Imogen winced as one of the voices from before remembered and gleefully belted, inside and out, a drunken rendition of a deeply vulgar sea shanty. She wondered, teeth grinding, if Pate knew this one, tried to distract herself by memorizing a few lines for later. 

“Laudna,” she said without explanation, voice a little choked with the tightness of her jaw, which she worked to relax, counting the petals on a pretty blue flower she didn’t recognize just above Fearne’s shoulder. “Or, sometimes a distraction, so my brain can, sorta, get away to fix it.”

It barely made sense to her, but Fearne didn’t ask for clarification, just cocked her head and smiled at Imogen like she understood her. 

Or like she wanted to swipe her coin purse. 

Imogen still hadn’t quite learned to tell the difference.  

Fearne’s ear twitched again, a white oleander shifting with the motion, and she blinked, leaning further out of Imogen’s space. She pulled her hand from Imogen’s back to rest on her bicep instead, squeezed a little. Raised an eyebrow and did it again, harder.

She said, a mirror to her suddenly booming thoughts, “Well, that’s fun,” and Imogen found herself using as a focal point Fearne’s unabashed, complimentary, and loudly projected opinions about her arms, even as she fought the urge to melt into the floor with embarrassment. 

What do they do on farms here? Throw things? Throw horses? No, that can’t be right. 

Imogen snorted, her face burning hot still, and Fearne’s smile lit up. She winked, her hand now rubbing gently. It wasn’t the soothing cool of Laudna but it was good, helpful, and Imogen tried to relax into the touch.

Maybe it was lifting all of those library books. 

Imogen, possessed by an urge she couldn’t process fast enough to suppress, flexed. Fearne’s laugh was as unrestrained as everything about her. It could’ve hurt, sharpened the pain in Imogen’s mind. Instead, she focused on it, on the way Fearne’s whole body moved with her laugh, flowers shaking in her hair. 

“I was just going to try to steal your coin purse. And maybe your knife. But this is much more fun.”

Imogen let out a very ungraceful noise, disbelief and amusement, as she reflexively put her hand to the objects in question, both of which remained where she had left them. 

“Thanks. Not exactly what I’m used to but,” she took stock, the voices in her head still pounding to get in but less distinct now, a move in the right direction at least, “it helped.”

Fearne blinked a little too innocently as she said, “Oh, I’m so glad. I bet Laudna could do the same thing, if you wanted. It was easy, really.”

The heat that had begun to recede rushed back to her face and neck for reasons she didn’t quite understand. Her mind very unhelpfully recalled Fearne’s grip on her arm and she swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, as that warm hand was replaced by a cool one, squeezing in fascination at her muscles.  That wasn’t…she didn’t…

Unfortunately, her mouth was as lost as her mind as she started, “Laudna, um, Laudna has…she doesn’t need to…” A corner of Fearne’s mouth lifted in a way that made Imogen feel very much like she’d been caught, although she didn’t know at what. Finally, cringing at herself, she settled on, “That’s alright, thanks.”

“Oh, right. The music,” Fearne said, almost a sigh, merciful enough to drop whatever had just happened.  “That makes sense. You know, I think she’s like music, too. The way she laughs and also,” she floated her hands through the air and tilted her shoulders and head, familiar motions on an unfamiliar body, “the way she moves.” Both ears lifted happily as she dipped her chin at Imogen. “You know. Very beautiful. She’d fit right in at home.”

Imogen didn’t need to look into Fearne’s mind to know she meant it, and she felt a surge of affection and solidarity. 

Before she could say anything, she watched as Fearne’s left hand worked itself back into her hair while the other wandered casually across the bar toward the pipe of the man next to them, swiped it and moved it into the swishing fabric of her skirts like it was nothing. Her eyes never left Imogen, that same smile lighting up her face. 

Winking, Fearne brought the hand out of her skirts, put her elbow on the bar and rested a cheek in her palm. “You should try my mind sometime.” 

Imogen raised her eyebrows, and Fearne giggled. 

“I mean it. I think it would be fun.” She bit her bottom lip, familiar and unfamiliar again, anxiety traded for flirtation, the dark spread of pooling ichor for deeper pink. Her tone was undeniably suggestive as she added, “If you want.”

Imogen, embarrassingly and with all of the bravado she’d displayed earlier clearly depleted, blushed. Or kept blushing, she wasn’t totally sure she’d ever actually stopped. Still she ducked her head immediately to hide it and was punished with a throb, which caused her jaw to tense again. 

“Only if you want,” Fearne repeated, voice quieter, less flirtation and more gentle concern. 

Imogen managed to meet her eyes. “Sure. Maybe.” After a moment she added, genuine but flustered, “Thanks. For distractin’ me.” 

Their drinks finally appeared, Fearne swooping in to take the tray while Imogen picked up her own water and the last ale. 

Her eyes were stuck on the tray precariously balanced on one of Fearne’s hands when Fearne said with a shimmy, eyes flashing with mischief, “My pleasure.” Her skirts flew behind her as she turned toward their table, offered over her shoulder like it was nothing, “Knock any time, gorgeous.” 

When Imogen settled next to Laudna at the table, a cool hand was immediately on her cheek, Laudna tutting with worry as practiced black eyes checked her over. “Imogen, you’re so warm. Are you feeling alright? Too many people?” 

Her walls were almost entirely back in place, the roar muted again, but her cheeks only got warmer as Fearne’s delighted laugh sounded out across the table. 

“I’m good. Just a little hot in the crowd.” 

Laudna hummed and turned back to Ashton, eyes unsubtly half on Imogen still, and Imogen pretended to pay attention to the conversation, sipping at her water and enjoying Laudna’s voice and the calming cadence of her thoughts. 

-

Imogen was curious, of course. She hadn’t really spent casual time, time apart from some other goal, in anyone’s mind but Laudna’s. They’d been busy the last few days, to put it mildly, but now, riding toward the Heartmoor, they could only go so fast, and it wasn’t like there was a whole lot else she could do right now.  

There wouldn’t be any harm in asking, right? Fearne would tell her no if she didn’t want her there and she could always leave. No harm. 

It took her fifteen minutes to work up the nerve to knock. Fearne’s mind opened immediately. 

Well, hello! 

Hi. You…you sure this is alright? 

Oh, definitely. Make yourself at home. 

She ventured deeper, past the surface level and fully into the space where they could communicate without any kind of projection, where Fearne would have to work hard to keep a thought from Imogen rather than to send it. It was…

Laudna’s mind was beautiful and musical and unlike anyone else’s, and her thoughts were as kind as she was. They were also as strange as she was, which meant Imogen had been present for, among other things: careful consideration of how to use the skulls, skins, and assorted bones of many dead animals; the drafting and editing of at least four of Pate’s one-man shows and a series of undeniably well-written but alternately horrifying (Laudna) or outrageously horny (Pate) poems; the recitation of recipes both edible and other; and the general ebb and flow of Laudna, which was, as she was, haunting and wonderful. 

She had spent years in Laudna’s mind, felt at home there, and so felt prepared for anything. 

She was not prepared for Fearne.  

A few weeks before Imogen’s eighth birthday, a massive traveling fair came to Gelvaan. Her daddy, fresh off a promotion and a raise, was in a good mood and gave Imogen some coin and Sam’s older brother Peter a stern look before sending them off.  

She remembered lots about that day: bouncing in line for the carousel and running as fast as she could toward the beautiful gray horse with deep blue tack and purple hair just like hers; the stick of the candy apple coating on her teeth; the way her heart pounded as she rode down the big metal slide, the burlap sack scratching at her thighs. 

Most of all, though, she remembered the fun house, which wasn’t really a house but a series of large, connected red and white striped tents lining the edge of the fairgrounds on one side. When they made it to the front of the line, Sam and Peter raced ahead, but Imogen took her time. She stumbled through the spinning tunnels and wove carefully through the swinging pillars, pressed through brightly colored ribbons and clambered over the shaking bridges that marked each new room. 

By the time she made it to the maze of mirrors, she was breathless, and as she pushed back the curtain to the big room, she stayed that way, mouth dropping open as she blinked and a hundred other Imogens blinked back. There were three possible entrances, with an Imogen moving down each path, and she picked one at random, watching as she turned each corner ahead of herself and behind herself at the same time. Purple met purple as she stared forward and back and above and below, disoriented and awed. 

She heard someone crying, loud and afraid, heard some teenagers behind her whispering words she wasn’t supposed to say, their necks craning up to stare at themselves in the ceiling as they passed. She understood, felt the little tingle at the back of her neck warning her that something wasn’t quite right. 

Stronger, though, was the curiosity that buzzed beneath her skin. She had no idea where she was, how much time had passed, how far she’d made it or how far she had left to go. She felt infinite and small, and when she finally reached the end, blinking at the steps to the next bridge, she had to stop and reorient herself, moving only when someone shoved past her and forced a jarring reentry to the normal world. 

And of course Fearne’s mind wasn’t a hall of mirrors. She wasn’t at a fair or in a fun house; she was in her friend’s mind. But it provoked a similar sense of fascination paired with disorientation, a similar split from the world, and somehow, from time as it generally operated. And like the hall of mirrors, Imogen felt lucky to be there. 

There was so much, all of it undeniably Fearne. 

In line with what Imogen would have guessed, a series of curious thoughts and feelings flowed idly and constantly through her consciousness. That’s a nice broach. I wonder if I could…oh, look at the bluebird. “Orym, look! A bluebird!” The lyrics to a song Dorian loved. 

And then there was the rest, a simultaneous current at the bottom of the river of conscious thought, all of it moving over Imogen, rushing at times and meandering at others. Sounds of Mister and creatures she couldn’t name, fragments of a time and place outside of this world, words and phrases in other languages, and the presence of something darker, not all that different from the strain of music in Laudna composed of the organic dark parts of her. 

How’s it going? 

Good. Good. Thanks for lettin’ me…hang out.

It’s nice. You’re like a cute little fish swimming around in my head. Stirring things up a little. 

Imogen snorted, and Chet gave her a look that she ignored. 

A fish? 

Oh, don’t worry. You’re a very sexy fish. 

Don't worry? She blinked, her mind’s inability to process the words forcing her mouth into motion in an attempt to assist.  “I’m a…” 

Chet looked at her again, suspicious, and she caught herself before she uttered the rest of that sentence. Heat rushed to her face, and she pulled further ahead of Chet as she dialed back into Fearne. 

Sorry, a…a…

A sexy fish. There’s this one at home with a beautiful long flowing tail with feathers, so it can swim through the air when it wants to. They can be all kinds of colors, but I think you’d be purple, of course. Unless you’d like to be another color, I mean. 

She paused, apparently waiting for Imogen’s input into her…fish form. Imogen, being in Fearne's mind, had the advantage of knowing that she was absolutely being messed with, but she could also tell that Fearne was genuinely happy to have her there, was having fun and being mischievous and all of it was good. The kind of easy fun that Imogen wished she’d had in her life for a long time, even if this kind of familiarity with anyone but Laudna still made her a little uneasy. 

It helped that Fearne was so disarming and so good at flustering Imogen, who had spent a long time trying not to be an easy person to fluster. With most people, she would have backed off immediately, hackles raised. With Fearne, Imogen found that she wanted to stay, found herself sort of unable but mostly unwilling to do anything but play along.  

No, I…purple is good. 

Great. So you, fish-you, have long purple feathers on your fins and tail that fan out and four eyes and two mouths. You sing when you want to mate. The two mouths help. 

Imogen heard, below their conversation, the sounds of what must have been the fish song, a surprisingly deep wail that moved into shorter bursts of sound in different pitches. It didn’t sound particularly sexy to her. 

As if she’d heard her, Fearne immediately asserted: Very sexy. I don’t know how it would change with your accent though… 

The sounds shifted slightly, a different intonation and it kept adjusting for a moment.  

Maybe like that. Do you sing? You-you not fish-you, I mean.

Imogen was distracted because the wailing sounds had multiplied. A couple? A call and response? Or maybe they competed? 

Imogen? 

Sorry. Sorry. What? 

Do you sing? 

Sometimes. I’m not…I don’t…

Oh, is it like fish-you? 

Is it like fish-me? 

Do you save it for mating? 

Imogen choked on air, loudly enough that Laudna turned back to look at her, concerned. 

“Imogen? Are you alright?”

She grabbed clumsily for her waterskin and sipped until she felt her face cool. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Sorry. Think…think I swallowed a bug?” 

Oh, that’s nice. Fish-you likes bugs, too. You have lots in common. 

The mating call of fish-Imogen and her companions increased in volume. 

Does this sound about right? Is there someone else I should ask? 

Imogen issued a fond and emphatic, Shut up, Fearne, oh my gods.

Fearne's laughter bubbled up inside her, washing over Imogen before it spilled out into the world, loud and joyous.

[reputationbarbie]

❝on my cloud, i got some space for you.❞

read the rest of the series before this chapter or you’re getting spoilers.

A/N: alright, i listened to the poll. this isn’t edited so ignore any mistakes. please leave feedback in the comments ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

Chapter Summary: the sweetest baker is surrounded by love on the anniversary of her parent's passing.

Chapter Warnings: language, alcohol, slight age gap (F!MC and Joel are 6 years apart), symptoms of anxiety and depression, panic attacks, grief, fluff, comfort, lmk if i forgot something.

Series Tags: chef! Joel, single! father Joel, no outbreak! Joel Miller, slow burn, dual-pov, fluff, flirting, friendship, eventually established relationship, eventual smut, original character, black!fem!MC, no y/n.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist, joel masterlist ⋆ spotify playlist ˖ ݁ 𖥔.

My throat croaks out a couple of notes as I hum along to the song in my ears on Wednesday. The calming smell of lemons wafts through the room reminding me of my mother. She always used to bake lemon cookies and cakes. Now the smell of sugary citrus envelopes me like a hug. 

I take a break, reaching for my water bottle when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Abandoning my attempts to take a sip, I take out my earbuds.

When I turn around I see Chloe standing behind me, looking past my body at what I’m making. “I'm not trying to be rude but are we rebranding or something? Everything's lemon-flavored,” she points out with her thumb towards the front of the store.

Perspiration instantly begins collecting on top of my skin. “Oh, shit. No, I’m sorry,” I apologize, wiping my hands on my apron. “I don't know why I did that,” I murmur and my eyes drift behind her.

I’ve been in an odd daze all week, unable to focus and even Joel has noticed. I’m pretty sure he told Ellie to take it easy on me this week since she hasn’t been around much. Then again, she has been hanging at the Austin a lot more since the whole Thanksgiving fiasco. I can’t put my finger on it, but he promised he was going to take off and help support me all day today. I wonder if he likes lemon cakes. 

Chloe waves her hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts. Her brows knit and concern washes over her face. “Are you okay?” she questions.

I nod, stepping past her to wrap up in the kitchen. “Yeah. I don't know what's up with me today. I just feel weird,” I remain vulnerable with her.

Chloe approaches the island I’m standing at, putting her hands on the table and leaning forward. “Ginny, love,” she looks at me as though I should already know what’s going on.

I pick up a sanitization rag and wring it out to begin cleaning the tabletop. “What?” I snip. I hate suspense.

She bites the inside of her cheek, hollowing out her mouth. An awkward silence fills the room and I curse myself for sending the others home so early. “You usually don't work today,” she points out.

I work every day, that’s the perks of owning your own bakery. “What are you talking about? it's just Friday,” I point out when the double doors to the kitchen smack open, letting in a cold gust of air.

Leo stomps in with his arms crossed, wearing black shoes and a matching tie wrapped around his neck. “Why are you working?” he chastizes, as he gets closer.

My once slow movements of cleaning pick up in frustration. I begin furiously scrubbing a stain in the metal that will realistically be there forever. “Why do people keep asking me that?” I groan.

My eyes return to focus on the stain. The fucking stain has to come out. Right now, right now, right now. “Imogen,” Leo sighs kindly. He puts his hands on my waist, pulling me backward from the procrastination. “Let’s go chat, hmm?”

I sigh, passing the cleaning products to Chloe and following Leo into the front of the bakery. He heads straight for my favorite booth, secluded in the back of the bakery towards the widows. 

“You're scaring me,” I divulge, sliding into the Tiffany blue pleather seat. 

Leo’s eyebrow raises before he seemingly realizes his facial expressions, reeling it back in. Men. “Relax. Have you talked to Joel today?” he questions.

“Yeah, this morning. He said to call him if I needed anything today.”

Leo leans forward across the acrylic table. “Ginny, it's December 18th,” he rasps and his words hit me like a truck.

December 18th. The day that my parents were crushed between two trucks on Interstate 290. It was unexpected and their business ties to Europe left me suddenly alone and having to clean up their shit for myself.

It took months to secure an end to it all. Although I wasn’t as close with my dad as I was with my mom, I still miss him just as much.

They say after traumatic events there’s an increase in marriages, divorces, and disappearances. As soon as I got the call, I quit and became fully invested in doing only the shit I wanted to. One of which included opening my bakery. I divorced nursing, disappeared further from the north side, and married baking.

You knew. Of course, you knew. That’s why you’ve been feeling weird all day. My head innately tilts as I stare off into space. 

My spiral of cataloging my every movement to assign guilt to them begins. I should’ve known and now half the day is gone without me honoring my parents. “I’m calling Joel,” Leo’s crip voice snaps me out of my thoughts. 

My head begins to shake. I don’t want to worry him for no reason. I just need to take some time away from the bakery, that is all. “No. It's not that big of a deal. I don't want to bother him,” I plead with Leo to spare the poor single father.

Leo ignores it and pulls out his phone, unlocking the device with the face sensor. “You're not bothering. Poor guy is probably just giving you space and waiting by the phone,” he explains.

Leo’s fingers tap on the tempered glass before he puts the device on the table. I look down, seeing it’s already on speaker and the ringing fills my ears.

Joel answers after two trills, per usual. “Hey. Ginny need me?” he suggests, voice dripping with honey.

I open my mouth to decline but before I do, Leo speaks up, “Yes.” If I weren’t so short I’d reach over the table and smack his head. So instead, I scold him, “Leo!” Why the fuck would he speak for me?

“My bad, Joel. She didn’t know we spoke before I came in. Yes, she does need you. I have a meeting at 1 and I need you to come by. Maybe cook her something,” he requests and the corners of my mouth quirk up in a smile. Despite what I said on the first day of our meeting, I love everything that Joel specifically cooks. 

Leo pauses and her eyes look me up and down judgingly. “She doesn’t look like she’s eaten today,” he adds and I scowl at them both.

This time, I’ve had enough of Leo’s bullshit and I kick him beneath the table. He lets out a groan, shooting daggers in my direction with his eyes. But, skipping breakfast due to anxiety isn’t a cause for concern.

Joel doesn’t skip a beat, immediately answering, “Be there in 10.”

“Thanks, man,” Leo exhales, probably glad to be relieved of his suicide watch duties for the day. Maddie and Leo stayed with me during the emotional rollercoaster of this day last year, and although they’re my best friends, I don’t expect Leo to want more. Especially when I have a partner now.

He clicks the red circle on the screen and I practically collapse on the table between us. “God, Leo. I'm going to kill you,” I groan into the hard material.

“He's your boyfriend. He's supposed to be the one comforting you and not me, right?” he questions and I can’t say I disagree.

“You’re right,” I complain one last time before lifting my head and fixing the mess of curls around my head. “Okay, you can go. I’m just going to change my clothes.”

“Are you sure? I can cancel this meeting,” he placates. No, he shouldn’t. And that’s okay. I don’t want his life to stop just because mine is currently.

I try my hardest to plaster on a fake smile, but it causes me mental anguish. “Positive. I’m going to get comfy so Joel can snuggle the shit out of me,” I tell him my plans. 

He grimaces, probably from my gushy words. His dark brown eyes search my face for any sign of discomfort. Once he’s satisfied, he nods. “Alright, I’ll call later. I’d stop by but you’ll be getting fucked as a distraction,” he smirks, before standing from the table and darting out of the bakery.

My jaw drops in shock. I most certainly won't be screwing my boyfriend on the anniversary of my parent's death. But maybe tomorrow, like early tomorrow. As soon as the clock hits midnight. 

How can I even be horny at a time like this? There’s gotta be some unnatural demon inside of me. I drag my hands down my face, trying to pull myself back into reality before standing from the booth. Walking over to the counter, I lean over to talk to Chloe. There are still patrons in the bakery and I don’t need them hearing about my personal life. “I’m going to retire upstairs. Let me know if you need anything. Joel should be here soon and you can send him up,” I list, quietly.

Chloe nods before taking my hands in hers. “Don’t worry, I got it. This is why I’m your manager,” she eases my anxiety.

I nod, bidding her goodbye before walking towards the back of the bakery. Tears start to collect in my eyes again and I repeat my favorite mantra. No crying in public, Ginny. You just have to get upstairs then you can let it out.

But it doesn’t work.

By the time I’m climbing up the staircase, the tears are already streaming down my face causing an uncomfortable burn on my cheeks. When I reach the top, I slide the barn door open to my living quarters at an alarming rate.

The wood smacks into the door frame and I rush into the space, careful not to let the mewling kittens out behind me. I softly shut the door, watching out for their tails with strained vision.

Okay, you’re alone Ginny. Let it out.

I don’t know what I expected to happen. I couldn’t foresee myself ever falling to my knees and sobbing on the living room floor, but that’s exactly what occurs. My chest becomes tight as I choke on my own spit, babbling niceties about my mother and father.

I don’t know how long I’m crouched on the floor when I hear my living room door slide open. My knees feel sore from the hardened floor beneath me but my tears don’t stop, creating a wet stain on my grey top. “Damn, sugar,” I hear Joel say before he slides the door shut behind him. 

I look up to find him rushing towards me, joining me on the floor. His typically messy hair looks freshly cut and I can tell he's used the start of the day to visit the barbershop. His green flannel shirt is opened nice and low, hugging his biceps deliciously. “Deep breaths. Know it’s hard but you can do it,” he encourages, rubbing warm circles onto my back. 

His words barely register and as I try to get my breathing under control, hiccuping in between breaths. With each uneven breath, I attempt to keep a hold on my digestive system and not let out a sad fart. Or worse, vomit in his lap.

“After Sarah died, I had panic attacks too. Still get ‘em sometimes,” he divulges. 

His hands trail up my spine to the back of my neck. His thumb traces soothing designs into my skin, effectively grounding me. My rocketing heartbeat slowly starts to steady and I allow myself to close my eyes knowing that Joel is here to catch me if I fall. His arms envelop me from behind, pulling my body so I’m sitting in his lap.

He softly caresses my hair and I tune him out as he begins whispering affirmations in my ear. I stare off into space and I jerk slightly in his hold when Joel presses a soft kiss to my neck.

I know where I am, but the last 30 minutes feel like a blur. Disassociation is a bitch.

When I finally feel aware again, Joel is still murmuring into my neck, but this time he’s talking about our future. “We’ll always be here. Me 'n Ellie through whatever,” he promises, pausing to take a breath.

I nod to let him know that I’m actually back this time. He rubs my back and I hear a soft meow coming from the floor. Toph is looking up at me with her green eyes, seemingly afraid. “We’ll have to get a bigger place for the 5 of us,” Joel adds, and I chuckle, scooping the orange kitten into my arms.

“Thank you for coming and just,” I start before gesturing to his body with one hand. “Being you,” I finish before a hiccup roars through my chest.

Joel positions himself more comfortable on the floor so he’s sitting in front of me. “I mean it. Every word,” he emphasizes, pressing a quick kiss to my wet cheeks. I smile at him, grateful for his presence.

Toph paws at my chest, snuggling into my body. Like always, Katara becomes jealous of her sister's attention, and she comes slinking behind the couch up to Joel. She struts up his leg, plopping down in the middle of his lap and shutting her eyes. 

“They’re fuckin’ somethin’ else,” Joel sneers, stroking Katar’s grey fur. I snicker in agreeance, setting Toph down in the sunlight on the floor in demonstration. Joel accepts the permission to remove my cat from his personal space, following suit carefully.

I glance at Joel’s face, admiring the constellation of freckles beneath a layer of dark circles. His hair is pushed back neatly with pomade and god, he looks edible. My heart quickens when I realize, I probably look a mess with makeup running down my face. 

He catches me staring and he licks his lips before asking, “What do you want for lunch?”

My brain mentally catalogs all the groceries Joe’s bought and stocked in my fridge. He figured if he’s going to make every meal, he might as well have what he needs. He insists he’s content with us staying in our respective lanes. After all, he’s just as excited for the dessert surprise at the end of the meal as Ellie is. 

Figuring I can’t be picky since I’m not cooking, I decide to let him choose. “Whatever you want. I’m going to go clean myself up and get changed,” I inform him, frowning at my appearance.

Joel seemingly notices my self-judgment and sits up, pulling my face closer with my hands. “I think you’re gorgeous, sugar,” he compliments before pressing a chaste kiss on my forehead.

My skin tingles from the warmth and I can't help but smile into the sign of affection. However, my insecurity doesn't drown, grabbing my hair and pulling me back from the gorgeous man I call mine. “You’re a liar, but it’s fine,” I murmur, using his shoulders to stabilize myself as I stand.

His strong arms wrap around my body holding me close. “I wudn’t lie to you,” he promises, and I nearly become weak in the knees from that accent.

I hum in reply, deciding it’s my turn to steal a kiss from him. I haven't tasted him in a couple days when I visited him and Ellie, and I’m starting to feel like I'm forgetting a piece of him. My body lowers until we’re at eye level, and the air between us zaps. 

He never fails to make me feel this way. Thunder rumbles in my stomach and lightning strikes low in my abdomen. It’s confusing, but I welcome every second of it.

Joel becomes impatient with my hovering and he brushes our lips together. The kiss is sweet and I smile into it before parting my lips. He swirls his tongue around mine while cradling my body into his. 

We continue for a few moments before I need to come up for air, and I disconnect immediately looking down at his reddened lips. I press one final peck to them before getting up, for real this time.

Joel pats me on the behind as I walk out of the room before he stands himself with a grunt. Toph trails behind me into my bathroom, brushing up against my leg with a purr as I look in the mirror.

My reflection makes me want to start crying again. My throat fills with ache as I try to stuff the oncoming tears out. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only unattractive person I know. 

I push the thought out of my head and for my headband, securing my hair away from my face. After pumping face wash into my hand, I hum while massaging my face. The sticky layer of tear stains rinse down the drain and I feel a sense of relief.

Once my face is clean, I reach for my towel to dry it off when I feel something particularly fuzzy. I open my right eye, peering at the counter to see Toph's tail underneath my hand. “Fuck off, cat. No counters,” I scold my shadow, lifting and setting her on the floor with wet hands.

She wines as her paws hit the floor, and I grab a clean towel from the drawer. Why did I get two cats?

After patting my face dry and discarding the towels in the hamper, I walk out towards the kitchen. As I tip-toe down the hall, I can hear Joel shuffling about. When I round the corner, I lean against the wall with my arms crossed. It’s nice to admire him in moments like this, although he’s bound to look up towards my bathroom any minute.

As if the universe hit the play button on my vision, his eyes snap to mine. “Come,” he waves me over with a welcoming grin.

I stroll over behind him before I snake my arms around his waist. My front presses into his back and I catalog every flex of muscle in his body. His arm begins sliding with precision, perfectly cutting the potato in front of him into thin slices. “Fries?” I question out of curiosity. 

“And a burger your way,” he glances over his shoulder at me before returning to his chopping.

I press myself up on my tiptoes, placing a kiss on his shoulder blade. This man is perfect for me in every way. Caring for me, cooking for me, and giving me countless orgasms. My relationship with Ellie is just the cherry on top. Even if Joel and I ended things, I’d still want to be in her life.

The realization hits me like a truck and without thinking I stammer, “God, I lo–”  before cutting myself out.

My body chills to ice and the oxygen is sucked from my lungs in an instant. Joel pauses his movements and stands frozen in place. I take a step back from him, turning away from him.

I need to do something to distract him from the fact that I almost just said I love you.

I reach for the kettle to set some water on for tea, fumbling about with the top of the lid. “What’d’ya say, sugar?” Joel asks from behind me.

I shake my head, feeling the hole he’s staring in my head. If I confess right now, he might leave me like everyone does. He’ll call me a crazy person and forbid me to see Ellie.

Joel’s warm hand covers mine and I jerk, before peering down. I blink rapidly at the water spilling over the top of the filled pot. “Fuck,” I swear, turning off the water and dumping a bit out of the metal container.

I shake my hand dry before my eyes meet Joel. “You sure you okay?” Joel questions with furrowed brows.

I nod, putting the lid back on the kettle. It’s a mistake, him seeing me like this. All overwhelmed and in disarray. I obviously can’t even string together a cohesive thought.

My hands fiddle around with the stove, pressing buttons until the electric burners turn red. I set the kettle down on top, turning back to face Joel. 

My face turns scarlet when I see he hasn’t moved. He has instead settled into a position with one hand resting on top of the counter and the other on his hip. “I won’t call you a liar. But whatever it is, ’m here when you’re ready,” he offers lowly. 

And as if nothing happens, he moves back to preparing the potatoes. I finally exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Thank god he’s not hell-bent on embarrassing me today.

Deciding to take the glorious out he’s presented me, I slide into the bar seat across from him, ready to watch my favorite pass time: Chef Joel Miller cooking in my kitchen. His brows furrow and his tongue sticks out of the side of his mouth when he’s intensely focused.

A lightbulb goes off in my head and I realize, I haven’t checked up on his Michelin Star journey. “Have 3 stars to your name yet?” I ask as he turns to fill a pot with water.

“Not quite. Heard rumors we’ve already got 2 visits though,” he explains and his voice bounces off the large window in front of him.

I nod and the corners of my mouth turn up. All I want is for those around me to succeed and he’s one step closer to his goal. “That’s great, that’s only one more left. It can’t be long now,” I chirp.

Joel leans on his left leg impatiently and I focus on his back. He inhales a long deep breath and I can tell he’s not as confident. “Yeah,” he grunts.

I brush a stray curl out of my face before observing, “You don’t sound so sure.”

He sighs before turning off the water. “I am. Thought about what you said that day and ’m worried my employee's customer service is being affected by my words, Gin.”

Fuck, he’s never called me Gin before. What I said must’ve been weighing on him. Shit, shit. Code red, Ginny. “Joel, it's fine. You’ve made the changes and the reviewers will see that,” I blabber out.

Joel carries the pot over to the stove. “I know, ’m just stressed and all,” he says while fiddling with the same buttons I was moments ago.

My body begins involuntary twisting and turning in the bar stool. Joel takes notice of the fact that I've used the tea water as a diversion, switching off the kettle as he goes. I snort and shake my head at how well he knows me.

“Wait until you actually get the stars,” I emphasize the horror of his future.

Joel picks out a pink towel from the drawer beneath his waist, quickly whipping his hands off.  “Yeah, I’ll be busy as hell."

“And it’ll be nice to have Ellie back in the bakery more,” I add excitedly.

Joel sighs and shakes his head. “I’ll have to get her into an afterschool program of some kind,” he responds.

My brows knit on my forehead watching him begin to prep the burger patties. “Why?” I ask.

He sets a bottle of seasoning down with a thunk and I know he means business. His deep chestnut eyes connect with my hazel ones and I know I’m no longer talking to my sweet, timid, Joel. I’m interacting with Chef Miller. “Cause you shouldn’t have to be responsible for her,” he grits through his teeth.

My lips purse and I cross my arms, slightly offended that he’d suggest I can’t handle hanging out with Ellie. “I think I can manage,” I theorize.

“I’m serious, Gin,” he argues.

“So am I. Ellie is the closest thing I have to a daughter. We already–” lied to the principal and staff at her school about our relationship. “Erm, she’s already here until close. What’s a few extra hours?” I finish as smoothly as possible, but I’m not sure Joel is buying it by the look on his face.

He raises a brow and his head tilts ever so slightly. “Are you sure?” he asks and I roll my eyes. If he asks again, my answer may be different.

There’s no reason for Ellie to join an afterschool program when she’s already comfortable here. “Positive. You are my boyfriend, Miller,” I conclude, quite finished with this conversation when the aftertaste from my words hit. “Partner,” I correct myself, looking down shyly.

“I love it when you call me that” I hear him say, causing a chuckle to slip from my throat.

We sit in comfortable silence for the remainder of the time Joel spends cooking. He occasionally glances up at me while bustling around the kitchen. Every time we make eye contact, my skin sets ablaze and I have to look away.

It seems childish to look away when your partner catches you staring. But he’s so goddamn sexy, I can’t help it. If I don’t look away, my carnal desires will replace my grief, and I’m not ready for that.

I wonder if Joel ever felt extremely horny and inappropriately happy in his grief. There’s only one way to find out.

I clear my throat, rapidly blinking away the fuzz of my thoughts. “Joel,” I murmur to get his attention.

He looks up from the set of plates, giving me a half smile. “Hmm. You ready to eat, sugar?” he asks, probably assuming I’m rushing him for food.

I don’t move from my spot to not give him the wrong idea. “Yeah but uh,” I start, pausing to pick at my nail polish.  “Can I ask you something?” I question softly.

Joel pops a French fry he dropped on the counter into his mouth. “Anythin',” he utters.

He slides my favorite meal over to me and I just about see stars. It takes everything I have in me to focus on the task at hand and not swallow the burger whole.

“How long did it take you to stop feeling guilty about being happy? You know, after…” I trail off, not wanting to bring up Sarah’s passing so bluntly.

His eyebrows raise and he leans back as if he was physically impacted by my words. Shock etches over his tan face and I immediately pick up a couple of french fries, awkwardly stuffing my mouth full. “Two years and Ellie was the first person I let in. Then you came along shortly after,” he confesses.

I quickly chew my food before gulping harshly. “Oh,” I murmur.

“Oh?” Joel counters with a tilt of his head.

I nod, picking up another fry. “Yeah, it’s not bad. It’s just that I don’t think I have two years,” I think out loud.

My eyes scan the counter for Joel’s signature barbeque sauce, anxious to dip try it with the crispy potatoes. “Be patient, sugar,” he scolds.

Joel seemingly notices my attention is elsewhere and suddenly, a tiny bowl of the brown condiment is set in front of me. I blush and give him a silent thank you with a half smile. “Never been too good at that,” I admit.

Picking up the burger, I examine it to see which side is the best for the first bite. “Oh I know,” I hear Joel say before our eyes connect. He tilts his head with a mischievous smirk on his face that sends fire into my cheeks. 

I shake my head at him before taking a huge bite of the juicy burger. The flavors dance on my taste buds reminding me of summer barbeques. “Mmmm, this is orgasmic,” I compliment my sexy chef.

He swallows his bite before asking, “Changed the seasoning. Taste alright?”

I nod, already ready to inhale the entire meal. “Joel, I didn’t know your burgers could get better. This is amazing,” I express.

“Well, if my toughest critic says it’s good, I’ll trust it,” he jokes and I chuckle.

Delicious food, passionate sex, and god's gift to humanity. I am the luckiest woman on earth.

The door flies open sending my eyes flying open and me jerking into Joel’s stomach. He groans before smoothing my curls with his palm. “It’s just Ellie,” he informs me she’s back from school.

I sigh, cuddling further into his body now that my anxiety has eased. “Hey,” his teenage daughter grunts when she comes into view.  

Ellie begrudgingly kicks her shoes off and drops her backpack to the side. If her body could talk, it would scream. “Bad day at school?” I observe.

She nods, picking up Toph who’s sitting in her spot on the couch. “Mmhm,” she grunts out just like her dad as she takes a seat.

“Well,” I start, tossing her the remote. “I’ll let you pick,” I offer her the once-in-a-lifetime chance.

She snickers, “No, you won’t.” She gives me a pointed look and asks, “What are my options?”

I purse my lips. She’s right, I’m just shitty she knows me so well. “Grey’s or SVU,” I answer.

Ellie nods, extending the remote in her hand to click through the app. Joel begins practically petting me again. “Sugar, you sure? Don’t wanna see you cryin’ no more,” Joel growls lowly as if seeing me cry and him not being able to control it pissed him off.

I can understand if he needs control over something, but today isn’t that day. “Positive,” I reassure him.

He nods, before placing his hand under my head and gently lifting it. “Sorry, sugar,” he grunts as he stands.

He turns towards the L-shaped couch with his hand on his hip, accentuating his slender waist and I practically start drooling. “What do you two want for dinner?” he questions, looking back and forth between us.

I prop my head up in my hand and look at Ellie who looks particularly glum. She’s curled into the couch, holding Toph like the animal is her lifeline. I sigh, feeling the urge to punch someone for hurting my baby creep into my veins again. “El, you can pick. I already had my favorite for lunch,” I urge her.

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup,” she requests, not even looking up at her father.

Joel clears his throat and raises his eyebrow. Ellie looks up and her eyes dart back and forth between me and Joel. I raise my eyebrow at her because she should know what he’s looking for.

It only takes Elle a few seconds when she gets it. “Please?” she adds, looking at Joel for confirmation.

He nods and walks off to the kitchen, away from earshot. I look over at Ellie whos depressed body language hasn’t changed. My hand pats the couch next to me. “Why are you so far away? We both know this is the best TV-watching spot,” I invite her over.

When she comes over, she’s usually right next to me giving me all the school gossip. But maybe it’s because Joel is here. She slides over, sinking into the cushion. “What’s up, El? You look all…” my voice trails off and I mimic her body language.

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Dina,” she answers.

“Okay, what about Dina?” I ask. Fuck, teenagers are hard. I wish they’d just tell you the problem the easy way.

Ellie’s head snaps in my direction. “She has a crush,” she snips.

My eyebrows raise and I tilt my head. “And I’m guessing by your body language and your fucking tone,  you’re not her crush,” I lightly correct her.

She looks behind me and I assume she’s checking to see if Joel is still making us food. “No,” she states and her entire body shrivels. The rejection washes over her face and I want nothing more than to hug her.

My respect for her boundaries overrides my need for comfort. “Who does she have a crush on?” I counter.

Ellie gnaws on her lip for a moment like she’s reluctant to tell me. I understand, after all, Dina is working downstairs for me right now. “Jesse,” she tells me.

I rapidly blink, stunned by the news. “Jesse, delivery boy, Jesse?”

Ellie nods and my mouth forms an ‘o’ in response. I nod, understanding the gravity of this queer love triangle. Her shoulder hunch over even more and I decide it’s time to cheer her up with some words of encouragement.

“You know when I was a teenager, I had a crush on a girl who was dating our guy friend,” I divulge some of my past. Although she doesn’t know it involves Madi and Leo, she doesn’t need to know that to get the point.

“Really?” Ellie asks dumbfounded.

 I answer tight-lipped with a nod, “Mmmhm.”

“What happened?”

“I let it play out between the two of them. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be,” I tell her.

Ellie’s face scrunches and she looks weary of taking my advice. “Look, you don’t know if Dina likes you back right?”

Ellie shakes her head no. “Right, so don’t mess with the universe. If you’re meant to be, you’ll be. You never know, maybe a girl will come into the high school and shock the shit out of you,” I theorize.

Ellie rolls her eyes and scoffs, “I doubt that.”

“Keep your options open, El. Until you put a ring on someone’s finger,” I advise her. She’s a hot commodity and I’m going to tell her that every time she needs reminding. 

Joel’s head comes into view as he bends down to press a kiss on top of Ellie’s head. She lets out a blech noise, shrugging as far away from him as possible.

I laugh at the interaction while Joel simply shakes his head. “Dinner’s ready,” he alerts us.

When I peer over my shoulder, I see a delicious spread laid out. As always, Joel has beautifully plated 2 servings of grilled cheese and tomato soup. “Ooh, that looks good,” Ellie compliments her dad, setting Toph down and shooting up from the couch.

She darts into the breakfast nook, diving for the sandwich first. Her head tips back and she groans with satisfaction. “Good?” I slightly shout from the couch.

She nods her head, already moving on to try the soup. Joel chuckles and extends his hand to me. He knows I typically climb over the back of the couch and ever since my foot got caught on the couch that one time, he’s insistent on helping me over.

“Thank you,” I purr lowly, leaning in to press a quick kiss on his lips. 

When I lick my lips, I taste savory remnants of tomato from him tasting the soup. I blink rapidly at him stunned, feeling a similar wave of emotion as earlier. My butterflies erupt in my chest and my heart skips a beat, stumbling over the current.

Yup, that's definitely love.

I love Joel Miller and everything that comes with him. I love his deep raspy morning voice and the way his nostrils flare when he can’t quite get a recipe right. I love his southern twang and the furrow in his brows when he’s angry. 

The type of love I feel for him possesses every fiber in my body and takes over my brain. It wraps around my nervous system, acting on its own. It takes away all control I have and I don’t mind at all.

I adore Ellie and consider her to be one of my daughters. We’ve become so close these past few months and I can’t imagine a day without them in my routine. They’re the only two people I can stand around me all the time.

Joel clears his throat, bringing me back to the present. Reality smacks me like a truck and I blush. “You alright there, sugar?” Joel questions, voice laced with concern.

The corners of my mouth curve into a smile. “Yeah, I genuinely don’t know what just happened. I look at you and my mind goes blank. I think I'm going nuts,” I chuckle, slightly lying. 

When I look at him, my eyes turn into hearts and pop out of my head with my tongue rolled out like the red carpet. When our eyes connect, he makes me feel like I’m the only person he’s ever been interested in romantically. Which can’t be possible considering Sarah came from somewhere.

We join Ellie and the kittens playing by her feet at the breakfast nook and a comfortable silence falls over the table. My mother always said you know the food is good when it’s silent, and we’re not much for dinner conversations around here.

Joel reaches forward and pours me a glass of wine before pouring himself some. “Guess you two are staying the night?” I ask, pointing out that whenever Joel drinks with me, they usually end up crashing.

Joel raises his eyebrows as if he’s daring me to contest, taking a sip of his wine. “If that’s okay with you?” he questions, probably trying to hide the fact that he’s not going to leave me alone tonight.

I pick up my spoon, dipping it into the soup. “It is, but I was thinking I’d come to yours tonight. El has school in the morning,” I attempt to compromise.

Ellie rolls her eyes and groans, “That sucks, my bed here is more comfortable.”

Joel begins prepping to eat and I’ve never seen someone be so meticulous about such a thing. He lays a cloth napkin into his nap and I raise my eyebrow, wondering what hell of a closet he dug those out of. 

“It’s not your bed, Ellie. We don’t live here,” Joel corrects her and I shovel the soup in my mouth. It’s the perfect amount of savory and sweet. 

Joel picks up the sandwich and takes a bite, nodding at the taste. While his mouth is full, I decide to insert a suggestion, “No, but El, next time you’re here, you should bring some clothes just in case. That way you don’t have to wear my clothes whenever you want to stay over.”

Ellie responds without skipping a beat, “Sounds good.” 

I turn my attention back to my meal and my mind mentally drifts off. Christmas is soon so maybe I can tell him then. I don’t want to trauma bond with him right now and Christmas is a happy time. “I cleared a drawer out for you already,” Joel announces and I nearly choke on my sandwich.

“You what?” I blurt, my mind swirling with information.

In my peripheral, I see Ellie’s head going back and forth between me and Joel. “That too much? I’ll fill it back up. ‘s just some of my long sleeves,” he stammers.

“No!” I shout a bit too loudly, my body becoming hot when I realize the gravity of my tone. “I mean no, the drawer isn’t too much. I think it’d be too much if I moved in right now,” I add.

Joel nods, content with my answer, returning to his meal. “When you two move in together, can we move here?” Ellie asks, refusing to read the weight of awkwardness in the room.

Joel clears his throat and he straightens his posture a bit. Sensing his uncomfortability, I step in to talk for the both of us, “We haven’t talked about that yet, El. But when it comes to it, I’d be happy to have you here.”

“Yay!” Ellie celebrates and I take a bite of my grilled cheese. It has the perfect amount of pull and my eyes are probably sparkling with admiration for Joel at the moment.

I chew and swallow before adding, “We’ll have to move eventually though. We need a house that we’ve all picked.” I would never sign a dotted line on a new place without Ellie and Joel’s approval at this stage in our relationship. I think we’ll be together for a long time, so I want to be considerate.

Ellie perks up again, “Really?”

I nod, glancing at Joel who has completely stopped eating at this point. “Mmhm, by then you’ll be 18 and you can have this place,” I continue my conversation with Ellie, knowing he’ll holler at any time he feels I’m overstepping.

Joel’s jaw clenches as I fight a snort, assuming he’s started stewing. “The bakery?” she asks, voice laced with confusion.

I set my spoon down and give her a knowing look. “No, El. Do you like baking?” I quip.

She shrugs, dipping her sandwich into her bowl. “Eh, it’s not my calling,” she admits before taking a bite.

“Exactly. I was talking about the apartment. You can have it when we eventually move out,” I foretell, motioning between me and her father with my hand.

“Gin,” Joel pulls my attention to him. When I glance down, his hands are balled tight into a fist, one wrapped tightly around a stainless stem spoon.

If he squeezes any more, he’ll bend my cuterly. And it’s completely unnecessary. “Joel, I’m not letting your child pay $1,000 in rent when we’ll have at least one empty apartment that’s completely paid off. Try again,” I dare him to argue.

Joel sighs but his body stays wound up. “She’s gonna be spoiled.”

I whip my head in Ellie's direction. “I don’t think you’re spoiled, are you, El?”

“Not in the slightest,” Ellie says through a shit-eating grin.

My head whips back toward Joel who isn’t the slightest bit amused by our display. “See, she gets the apartment, we get a new house,” I pause waiting for his face to change. When it remains stone cold, I add my secret tactic by purring, “alone,” into his ear. 

When I straighten my back, his eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his head. Anticipation flickers in his eyes and I know I’ve hooked him to the idea.

Joel’s body slowly starts to relax, but Ellie puts the cherry on top. “And everyone’s happy. Maybe Dina would move in with me. Holy shit this is gonna be awesome,” she practically bounces, and the wood beneath her creaks.

“Slow your roll, kiddo. You’ve still got 4 years,” Joel warns and I kick him lightly under the table for taking the excitement out of everything. I want her to keep a hopeful possibility of romance with Dina and he’s ruining it.

Ellie opens her mouth but I step in before the pair can start arguing. “Speaking of totally awesome, what do you want for Christmas, El?” 

“I’m getting something for Christmas?” asks dumbfoundedly. 

“Umm, yeah. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Ellie shrugs and a rain cloud of trauma drifts in over her head. I watch as the sorrow rain falls on top of her head and my heart drops to my ass.  “I don’t know. Guess I’m just not used to it.”

I bite my lip, trying to keep it together for her. No child should have to go a December without a gift. I try my best to plaster on a fake smile to perk her up. “Well, I already have most of your gifts but I thought I’d ask you,” I tell her.

As if on command, the cloud of depressing memories is swapped for a blazing sun. “Really?” she gleans.

“Really. I love Christmas. It’s the busiest holiday for the bakery though.” I mentally curse the upcoming bustle, taking a sip of my wine.

Ellie chomps the last of her sandwich down, chewing slowly like she’s in deep thought. A sparkle comes over her eyes when it looks like she’s finally got it. “Well, some new paintbrush sets would be nice. I saw some watercolors on Instagram that are cool,” she hints.

“Send them to me,” I request.

“Okay,” she smiles, reaching into her back pocket to pull out her phone.

I smile at my hunky boyfriend, ready to point out the receipts of Ellie’s personality traits. “See, Joel. That is not a spoiled child. Madi would’ve asked for a Gucci bag and a stamp on her passport when we were younger.”

Ellie’s head perks up from her phone. “Wait, that’s an option?” she clarifies sarcastically. 

“No,” Joel barks at the same time as I offer, “Ask Madi.” 

Joel frowns in my direction and I quickly add, “We don’t have that type of money but Madi does and she’s always ready to spend it on someone. If you want something really expensive, she’s the one to ask.”

Joel's elbows come down on the table quite hard and he puts his head in his hands. “Gin,” he groans.

“What? Madi’s like her aunt or whatever now. She’s obligated by girl code to help her out,” I inform him, picking up my spoon. At this point, the utensil is useless. The food’s so good, I’m ready to drink the rest of the bowl down.

“Spoilin’ her ain’t helpin’,” he scolds me.

I blow the steaming liquid in front of my face. “No, but Ellie knows the value of money to know the difference between dinner at the estate versus dinner at the breakfast nook,” I say before taking a bite.

“Yeah, this sucks,” Ellie sarcastically grumbles, before picking up the soup and slurping the last bit of it.

I snicker, dipping the last of my sandwich into the soup. I never thought I could be this content after my parents passed but here I am, enjoying the anniversary of their death with my two favorite people.

I peer under the table at the sleeping cats and smile. I need to focus on the two people that I have a future with and a life with, not the two who are long gone. It’s what my mother would want for me, anyway. The girl that hooked me onto the man that I love. Fuck. I’ve got to find a better time to tell him.

[mehoymalloy]

Here's my opinion that nobody asked for (but mostly just a factual recap) on the end of c3ep90, specifically regarding one Liliana Temult. I saw a teeny bit of speculation of Otohan potentially being the source of 'Did she know?' based on the accent Matt used, so of course I had to go back and listen to the scene a few times to check.

Obviously Matt left us on a cliffhanger for a reason, so very few statements can be made conclusively. The main one being: we know the scream was from Liliana.

From Fearne's persepctive (timestamp: 4.21.00):

Right as Fearne finds Ashton and FCG, the red energy around her (and simultaneously around Imogen, Matt notes) starts to brighten, and, "through both of your minds, you hear this high pitched scream, this earth-shattering scream of fury and horror, and then with that, the scream is gone."

When Laura asks if she recognizes the voice, Matt says, "Maybe. You've heard a lot of screams in your days." Laura asks if she can hear it even with the circlet on and Matt retcons a lttle, saying, "You felt it. It wasn't in your mind directly, but you felt it."

Just as Team Explosion start moving again, the music hall explodes: "this blast of bright energy with like a pinkish tone. You see the top of a shell-shaped building explode, and chunks of it fly out and stop and float in space. Immediately you see, like a bullet out of a gun, this singular lavender streak of power and energy that enters and kind of lifts and floats in the sky."

We then immediately cut to Team Infiltration.

From Imogen's perspective (timestamp: 4.29.58):

She sees the music hall explode from the balcony they are using to exit the tower ("Catching up," Matt clarifies). Matt says, "and you immediately know the source of the scream you heard earlier," confirming to Laura that it was Liliana.

Team Infiltration repel down from the balcony and keep moving. Matt then says, "You see that purple flame flickering in the air, and in both of your heads, you just hear, 'Did she know?'"

The cast all assume it is Liliana voicing the question (and that she now hates Imogen lol).

-

Ok now getting into opinion rather than fact:

To me this reads as the scream, the explosion, and the question all happening in quick succession, which implies Liliana is the source of all three.

As an aside: I adore that Imogen's immediate reaction is relief that Liliana is alive (she gasps, stares with wide eyes, and puts her hand over her chest). Imogen reaches out for Laudna with one hand, and Laudna even reassures, "I knew- I knew she was gonna be alright."

Considering the scream is of "fury and horror," specifically, I really lean toward the Ruidusborn Liliana had been gathering all being severely injured or killed during the assassination attempt. Seeing a bunch of young people you claim to protect grievously or fatally wounded would certainly be enough to trigger another exaltation, in my mind (though again, we don't know for certain Liliana exalted, it just reads that way to me); it would also explain why she just blew the roof off and flew directly into the air—if there was no one left to fight or protect. And I truly do think Liliana does care for the younger Vanguard recruits, based on what she says to Imogen in their dream conversation:

LAURA Mama, I want you to leave him. There's a fight coming. I don't want to fight you. MATT "Imogen, there are children here–" LAURA I know. MATT –"like you, that rely on me." LAURA Can't we just make sure he never wakes up? Put him to sleep. Get rid of Ludinus and keep him asleep. MATT "I don't know if that would just be delaying the inevitable. Being so close to this, I feel like I can guide this the best way it can be. I'm surrounded by some very dangerous people, but they need me, I can feel it, and they listen to me. I'm scared of what would happen if I wasn't here. What would happen to these children? These people?"

This is why I interpret that furious "Did she know?" as referring to those that were caught in the crossfire of the assassination attempt as collateral damage, not necessarily the attempt on Liliana's life specifically. Again, we don't truly know what went down there and who all survived, but I lean toward Liliana being the one of the few (or hell, maybe even the only one) to come out mostly unscathed based on the "fury and horror" tone of that scream.

That's not to say she wasn't also just straight up pissed that her daughter was seemingly complicit in an attack on her life lol because I'm sure she was, but like, it's layered. If anything, she'll tie her fury to the kids as this justified and righteous sort of anger, just to make herself feel better (ie less guilty about her own hand in leading all these recruits to their possible deaths).

And I really should not have to say this, but this post is not me defending or justifying Liliana's behavior or actions. I simply adore messy, deeply flawed characters. And I find it infinitely more fun to dig into their heads and attempt to view things from their perspective than to simply say "they're awful, I hate them."

Because yeah, they are awful and I do sort of hate them, but that's what makes them interesting to me. They're fictional characters—morality and even overall likability have no bearing here. All that matters is what gives my brain the zoomies, and for me, that's deeply fucked up antagonists and villains and their fucked up logic.

[unicyclehippo]

imodna + ‘scattershot’

Imogen had something of a scattershot approach toward cleaning, which had the fun properties of being both a shit way to approach it, on account of not working at all, and also deeply aggravating, on account of the fact she’s nearly thirty and ought to be able to keep her damn life together. Which is why, ten minutes before Laudna was due to arrive at her apartment, it still looked like a sandstorm had crashed through the place. And like maybe she’d been robbed. She tossed a weeks worth of laundry into the bathroom and prayed Laudna wouldn’t need to use it while she was over, and was halfway through vacuuming when the janky doorbell croaked. Did the place look worse, somehow, despite her feverish efforts?

‘Hello?’ she said into the intercom. Maybe it wasn’t Laudna.

‘Hello! Doctor Laudna Bradbury here! You invited me!’

Imogen knocked her head against the wall. Fuck.

‘I’m sorry?’ Even over the crackling intercom, Imogen could hear the surprise—and hurt—in her tone.

‘Shit - no, sorry - it’s just…’

‘I can leave,’ Laudna offered, tone stiff now.

‘No! No, I’m so -‘ happy you’re here, she tried to say, but as ever the words stuck. Untruthful as they were. ‘Wait there,’ she said instead. ‘I’ll be right down.’

The intercom hummed. Finally, Laudna said, ‘Alright. I’ll wait.’

Imogen grabbed her keys from the hook and thundered down the stairs. Through the frosted glass of the entryway door, she could see Laudna’s silhouette—stately, almost loomingly tall—and the headache that had begun to grip at the back of her skull eased, just a little. She hurried out, wincing against the chill.

‘Doctor Bradbury—Laudna—‘

Laudna interrupted with a click of her tongue. Whatever upset had lingered in her expression vanished into concern. ‘Doctor Temult, it’s freezing out here. Where is your coat?’ she asked, and began to unbutton her cloak.

‘I couldn’t see it and,’ she offered a crooked grin, ‘I didn’t want you to leave.’

Laudna’s fingers paused on the second button. She glanced up with a slight frown. ‘I wouldn’t have left. We agreed to meet.’

‘Wouldn’t want you to think I weren’t eager to see you, then.’

‘Despite the fact that I said hello and you said Fuck?’

Imogen felt her cheeks heat up. She hoped Laudna saw it as embarrassment rather than the immediate hope she could get this woman to swear again at some point. Clearing her throat, Imogen said, ‘That wasn’t about you. I swear. It’s -‘ She ran a hand through her hair, or tried to; fingers caught in snarled knots and she swore again, tugging free. ‘Listen, I’m shit company today. I only got back a few days ago ‘n flying always makes me sick. My place - it’s a mess,’ she admitted with a grimace. ‘That’s why I swore. I was tidyin’ but I lost track of time.’

‘I see.’ Laudna finished unbuttoning her cloak—Imogen had not watched intently the whole time—and swung it from her shoulders, handing it out to Imogen. ‘Here.’

‘I couldn’t—‘

‘Please, I grew up here. I hardly feel the cold anymore. It must be a shock to your system. I insist.’ She stepped closer. In the protected eave of the entryway, the air was fresh and clean and chilly indeed. Laudna’s hands were cool, brushing against Imogen’s, but her cloak—and it was a cloak, Imogen saw now, a real medieval type cloak, handmade—was beautiful warm and settled heavy across her shoulders. ‘There. Hm. I thought it might be too long but it works quite well!’ Laudna beamed. Touching a single finger to Imogen’s shoulder, she added, ‘You have broader shoulders than I do.’

Imogen wouldn’t be able to speak even if she could think of something not desperately gay so she didn’t try, only nodded.

‘We don’t have to go upstairs,’ Laudna continued. ‘If you are uncomfortable with that. And I should hate to make you uncomfortable at all. I know well how terribly unsettling it can be to bring new people into a space as personal as your own home, especially if you are not prepared to do it. I myself find that difficult, I can’t think of a single person who has seen my apartment.’ Laudna fell silent for a moment. Imogen stared up at her—ghostly pale, her bearing and dress out-of-time and place, seemingly so much better suited to an earlier age—and, struck by the urge to keep her, to anchor her to the here and now, took her hand. It was solid, though delicate. Imogen felt the press of a scar, the flex of muscles. No ghost. A small smile spread across Laudna’s face. ‘I live not too terribly far from here,’ she continued. ‘I know the neighbourhood well. There’s a garden—it’s walled off, which should keep out the worst of the wind. We could walk.’

‘I’d like that,’ Imogen agreed.

[ratinayellowbandana]

Prompt: “I feel terrible.” And/or “I want you to kiss me right now.”

I love your fics 🥹 just yesterday I was thinking of your name while perusing ao3 and was wishing for another Imodna fic of yours

hi!! thank you so much for your kind words. it always shocks me when people, like, want to read my writing? so it really means a lot. i'm sorry this took me a little longer. i ended up combining your first one with another prompt and part of my wip so when i eventually publish a fic with an extremely similar scene from imogen's perspective.. dw about it.

anyway, here's some post-resurrection hurt/comfort. we're gonna all pretend they stayed in the castle for a couple days and sorted their shit out.

cw for feelings of helplessness and self-loathing

length: ~1.7k

some prompt lists if you're so inclined || my ao3

~~~

It’s been three days since they got her back. 

Three days since she woke on the worn wooden floors of Pike’s home to a small crowd of friends and strangers. 

Three days since she set foot in Whitestone again, a place she never hoped to return. 

And three days since everyone began treating Laudna as if she's going to shatter. 

The worst part is she feels as if she might. 

The world is too vibrant. Loud. The birds chirping outside the too-large castle window grate on her ears. The silky sheets on the too-soft four-poster bed cling to her in all the wrong ways. Her skin crawls and her bones grind and she can feel her teeth. 

The gnome who revived her said this is normal. She’d been dead, after all. The body would need time to recalibrate. Time they do not have if they want to have any hope of intervening on the solstice. 

Imogen dotes the best way she knows how. With soup and kind words and glares that warn the others to keep back if they don’t want a zap to the forehead. She offers furs from the trunk at the foot of the bed and cool cloths that do little to ease the ache of Laudna’s fragile joints. She brings pillows and keeps watch in the window seat as Laudna sleeps. 

It’s sickeningly sweet and thoughtful and lovely, and Laudna hates it just a little bit because Imogen has spent far too much time fretting over Laudna as of late when she should be anywhere but a stuffy old castle spooning broth to a dead lady whose hands won’t stop shaking. 

Laudna is fine. 

She’s fine. 

She is. 

Delilah is gone, they assure her. Imogen herself sent a bolt of lightning through the bitch’s strange conjured tree trunk in the twisting nether realm that left the smell of iron and marrow lingering in Laudna’s nose. Her limbs still sting with phantom wounds where she had thrashed against Delilah’s cage. 

Helpless. Weak. 

The others were there, too. At least, for much of the fight and everything that preceded. They had seen Laudna’s memories, as Fresh Cut Grass informed her. Learned the name she had taken care to hide all these years. Buried deep enough, even Imogen, brilliant as she is, would have to dig to uncover it. Delilah, it seemed, only cared for secrets when they were hers to keep. 

When her friends visit her chambers, their vivacity is dulled. They are tense, anxious, and trying and failing to hide the restlessness that they are all feeling. 

Orym regards her with new wariness, searching for lies and cracks, though he is kind as ever. It’s understandable, Laudna reasons. In this place, where the Briarwood reign harmed innumerable lives, she is a liability. A threat to be guarded against.

Fearne is delicate with her hugs, moves cautiously through Laudna’s space. She hasn’t even stolen any of the silver soup spoons or fine teacups, which might be most concerning of all. 

Ashton hovers in the doorway. They return her awkward waves with a nod and flick of their wrist. 

Chetney and Fresh Cut Grass seem the most unbothered. Chetney in a plush bathrobe that appears to have been hastily cropped to suit his stature, and F.C.G. chattering on about the importance of rest to the healing process. 

And Laudna hates them just a little bit because she cares for them all so deeply, but mostly, she just hates herself. Hates Delilah. Hates Otohan Thull. 

They’re losing time and they’ve already lost so much. Imogen has already lost so much. Her mother’s trail is growing colder by the day, and there is nothing Laudna can do but lay in this godsforsaken luxurious bed and wait until her body recovers. 

It’s all she can do not to break into a thousand pieces that she would scatter to the nooks and crannies so she wouldn’t have to see the pitying looks on her friends’ faces when Imogen has to help her up. 

She turns on her side and buries her face in an obnoxiously soft down pillow to muffle the sob that wells within her and wracks her body. 

She does a piss-poor job of that, too. 

“Laudna?” Imogen calls sleepily, roused from a sun-dappled doze. Then, alert, “Hey, hey–” 

She’s standing, Laudna can hear, and now she’s gone and disturbed Imogen. Bare feet pad across the cool stone floor, and the far side of the bed dips, ever considerate. She will not come closer, Laudna knows, unless given explicit consent because Imogen is wonderful and caring and lovely.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” 

Laudna shudders. “I feel terrible.” 

“Oh,” Imogen says, and Laudna can feel the flash of guilt and concern that radiates off of her. “Can I bring you anything? Is it your head?” She shifts her weight. “Do you need water? I can go get a pitcher. Or food, maybe?”

“Stop. Please, stop,” Laudna croaks. Imogen flinches, and gods, Laudna could be sick.

Imogen retreats. “Sorry, I’ll just– sorry,” she murmurs, sounding so small. 

Laudna lifts her head and darts a trembling hand to catch her wrist. “No!” she says. Her body betrays her, the word coming out as more of a roar than she ever could have meant. “No,” she repeats, softer, “stay. Please,” because if she frightens Imogen off, she fears what will crawl into the hole left behind. 

Imogen hesitates, glances down at the ink-tipped fingers clasped around her arm, and sits again. She doesn’t speak, leaving the path clear for Laudna to lead the way, and oh, Laudna could melt. 

Laudna sighs shakily, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…it’s not you.” 

Not Imogen. Never Imogen. 

The silence hangs heavy between them until Laudna can bring herself to speak again. 

“This is my fault, I’m afraid,” she states flatly, refusing to meet Imogen’s gaze. Refusing to see whatever reaction she may find there. Anguish. Frustration. Irritation.

“What?” 

Confusion.  

Laudna looks up, gestures vaguely to their surroundings. “This. All of us being… trapped here.” 

“Laud, what’re you talkin’ about?” 

Imogen’s hand comes to stroke the back of Laudna’s knuckles where they wrap around her other wrist. Her fingers are calloused and work-worn, the rough patches of them catching on the imperfect parts of Laudna. 

“You should be off tracking down your mother or finding out what you can about the moon, and instead,” Laudna’s voice catches in her throat, “you’re here.”

Imogen shakes her head, exhales. “Where I should be is for me to decide.” She says it gently. It is not meant to be a reprimand. It still feels like one. “And where I should be,” she continues, “is wherever you are.” 

Laudna’s eyes flit anywhere but Imogen’s face. 

“If you want me there, of course.”

Laudna’s response is instant. “Always.” 

She finally meets Imogen’s eyes and is met with a somewhat furrowed brow. She wants to ask something, Laudna can tell. Imogen’s head is tilted curiously, her lips slightly parted. Her jaw works subtly, muscles tensing. 

“It’s not your fault,” she settles on at last. “None of it, okay?”

Laudna opens her mouth to respond.

Imogen is steely calm. “You were gone, Laudna. And I couldn’t reach you, and…and you’re here now. You’re back, and that’s all that matters.” 

Laudna shrinks into the pillows, takes her hand back beneath the sheet, fist clenching and unclenching. “I feel like such a nuisance,” she confesses quietly. “I should have tried harder to break her hold on me. I should have–”

“No. Gods,” Imogen snaps, lacking any real bite. She inhales. “Laudna, you…you were dead. And I hate sayin’ it; I hate thinkin’ about it. You couldn’t’ve done anythin’ more than what you did.” She softens, throat tightening with emotion. “You did so much. And I’m so proud of you. And… I’m so grateful you chose to come back.” 

“It wasn’t much of a choice,” Laudna whispers, “I couldn’t very well leave you, darling.” 

“You could’ve.” Imogen bites her lip, ducks her head, fiddles with the hem of her vest. “We, um, I know F.C.G. told you, but we… saw some of your memories. And, and I didn’t really wanna bring it up? So I’m real sorry, but we only saw a couple moments, and we don’t have to talk about it, but,” she looks back to Laudna, “you’re so brave. I don’t think you get told that enough. You’re so strong, Laud, and so good, and I missed you. So much.” She takes a sharp breath.

It bursts out as though holding it in any longer might suffocate her, and Laudna’s hands cease their twitching. She hesitates. Imogen’s affection has split her open, and it’s odd, she thinks, to feel so vulnerable and so safe. That those two sensations can coexist as a tingling in her chest that extends into her tendons and ligaments to warm her all over. She can sense the discolored blush rising in her cheeks. 

She does not feel brave. Strength has always been foreign and abstract. That Imogen can see her that way is… incongruous. Absurd, even. 

“You’re very kind.”

Imogen looks as if she might protest but seems to think better of it. She sighs, a slight, sad smile crossing her lips. She moves to stand again, to cross the room back to her seat, and suddenly, the thought of Imogen being so far away is unbearable. 

“Stay, please?” Laudna shuffles, lifting a corner of the quilt. “This bed is plenty big enough for two, and I dread to think of the state of your neck curled up in the window.”

“You’re sure?” Imogen asks, faint hope coloring her words. 

“Come here.” 

The bed dips again as Imogen clambers in, pressing herself against Laudna, who lets out an oomph as Imogen wraps around her and intertwines their fingers. 

“Sorry!” Imogen says with a relieved exhale, “Sorry, I just–I know I said it before, but… I really missed you.” 

“I missed you, too,” Laudna assures gently, taking in the oaty smell of Imogen. The smell of home. “Rest well, darling.” 

Imogen squeezes their hands in response and burrows closer. 

Laudna relaxes into the embrace.

[oh-no-its-dragons]

ao3 is down so I'm posting omegaverse here

Violet stumbled down from the parapet, the anger she'd felt at Jack dissipating almost immediately. Being an alpha was going to get her killed at this rate, and not just because she'd been sent to the Rider's Quadrant. She'd had six months to get this anger under control and she was still threatening to stab people in the balls.

Not that Jack fucking Barlowe hadn't deserved it.

"Come here," someone said, putting a hand on Violet's shoulder, and at least she didn't growl at Rhiannon when she spun on the woman.

"You okay?" Rhiannon asked.

"No. Yes." Violet corrected herself.

Before she could say anything else, she was being escorted off to the side of the courtyard and she realized she recognized the scent. Dain was there. Gods, she'd been looking forward to seeing him again but this was not what she'd pictured. She watched him and Rhiannon snap at each other before Dain pulled rank to get her to submit.

Squad leader, huh? she said to herself. Good for him.

She let Dain get her up to his room and wrap her knee, and the support- both literal and figurative- helped her get her balance back.

"What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"

Oh, right. She'd had this conversation five hundred times right after she presented, but she hadn't had to do it in months. First year cadets weren't allowed letters or contact, though, so there'd been no way for her to warn Dain about any of it.

"I presented, just before the Solstice. I'm an alpha, so the scribe quadrant was out of the question, and my mom insisted."

"Nobody presents that late, Vi, are you sure?"

She blinked slowly, trying to tamp down the anger that was trying to fight to the surface again. "Am I sure? Don't be ridiculous, how could I not be? You were sure, weren't you?"

Dain hesitated before he answered, but Violet was too pissed to think much of it. It didn't matter that he didn't answer the question. He was already walking her back to the courtyard and then he disappeared into the chaos of Conscription Day.

The hardest part was not finding Rhiannon again, nor was it watching other cadets run and get set ablaze for their trouble. It was the fact that she could. not. stop. looking at Xaden Riorson. Every time she met his eyes- because of course he was looking at her too- she felt the feral claws in the back of her head. Something in her wanted to maul the fuck out of that man.

Rhiannon elbowed her in the side gently. "Violet? You're growling," she whispered.

Why had anyone ever thought throwing several hundred alphas together in an enclosed space was a good idea? Well, it was only really an enclosed space for the first few months, because once you bonded you got to fly. Violet wasn't thinking that far ahead, though. She couldn't. She had to get through three months of proving herself, one day after another, before it was a concern.

"We can sneak you into the Scribe Quadrant," Dain offered for the first time after Imogen nearly tore her arm off at assessments.

"No, there's no way they'd take me. And I can't do it, I can't go in there now." She remembered patience, distantly, missed

"I'll protect you." Again.

"I'll sneak you out." And again.

"Let me protect you." And again.

It was a refrain that was driving Violet out of her goddamn mind, and by September it was painfully clear to her that Dain did not believe she was an alpha. Did he think she was lying? Did he think her mother had somehow brainwashed her into believing she had presented?

Did he think she was this fucking angry all the time because it was fun? If anything, her temper was shorter than his, he ought to know how much effort it took to maintain that much composure.

She hated to think about it, but it seemed like a lot of the alphas in the Riders Quadrant were either much better at controlling their anger or just didn't get the alpha stereotypes in their genetic lottery. It seemed cosmically unfair that she was the least-likely alpha she'd ever met and also one with the hardest time controlling herself.

When she'd mentioned it to her squadmates, Rhiannon had a theory.

"Maybe it's because you were late presenting. I'd been dealing with it for four or five years before I got here, and you still haven't had a full year."

That made sense. Violet was pretty sure she'd heard something similar from a healer not long after her mother found out about her presentation. 

"No, it's… well, maybe it's that too," Sawyer hedged when Violet and Rhiannon both glared at him, "but there's something else. I didn't figure it out until after I washed out last year. But not everybody here is an alpha."

"That's not possible," Violet stared at him, "is it?"

"Nobody admits it, not really, but once you look for it you can't unsee it."

"Now that you said it, I can see it," Ridoc grinned. "Picture Riorson and put Aetos next to him. One of those men looks like an alpha, and it's not our squad leader."

Rhiannon rolled her eyes. "Come off it, if it was that easy to tell, you wouldn't be here. You sure as shit don't look like an alpha."

"It's not supposed to be obvious since we're all on suppressants anyway." Violet frowned when she thought about it. The idea of other people just… ignoring their biology when she was stuck here because of it made her twitch. 

Sawyer was right, though. Now that someone had said it, she couldn't stop thinking about it when she looked at the people outside her squad.

[genderlesssinner]

Welcome back nerds

These Fey horse things are giving me windwalk vibes

Ash wanting to go dodging trees makes me think about that post about them riding a motorcycle. Yeaaahh.

I love their naming vibes, these dweebs

Oh man I love it when Matt mixes sayings that was perfect

Not the Creed reference I can't

Dirty 20 (for 22) and he got nicked holy fuck

Dorian riding sidesaddle is amazing and I love him

Oof Braius ate shit a lil damn

Imogen going full racer stance love it

Oh no Ash got got by a bird

Fey art school? Oh boy

Startin us off right, get it little man

"we'll get to that in a moment" uh oh

Okay okay big fancy twin tower

Oh it's covered in skeletons fuck

Hooves are bad for verticale climbing, yall

Ooh I hope they get a moment for Chet to do the Psychometry thing in this town that would be neeaaatt

Robbie following his gut, I love it, yes

Ooohhh shit someone is watching, that damn hawk

EEEYYYY Get it Chet

(fucking fuck I missed a minute there ugh internet issues)

Fuck whatever it is poisoned the fucking land not just the people shit

Oh they brought a guard dog, interes- nope it has a people face mhn, nuh uh, nope

MAP TIME

'for spacial awareness'

So freaking cool every time

"I believe in our 80% rat."

*said rat rolls TRASH*

Ooop- Pâte gone

Sneaky sneaky plus Arcane Eye nice nice

Sneaky ass Fey boys man

I always wonder if they can send images with Telepathic Bond but they never mention it nahdjdhchc

Oh fuck Tal's right I bet that was fucken Gloamgut landing. Damn dragon is scary

Mhm yep yep yep

Weeeeiiiirrrdddd ass fey dragon

Fuck man I forgot there was gonna be a Snow Luda here sheesh. Spooked me for a sec

I kind of want them to like try and listen and learn more but also blow shit up like Travis said, bring the fucken building down (which is a shame, it's gorgeous). More info can only help us here but we gotta make this go sideways for Luda

Ira you creepy sonofabitch

I think everyone kinda forgot about Ira for a minute there

Fluffy fuckboy,, oh no

Love fighting with Ira so far

Liaaamm a one?? No luck reroll??

Duuuudde Travis with double Nat 20s

The quietest HWDYWTDT ever and maybe the nastiest damn boy

"You think you're pretty hidden" Uuhghhhhh maaaatt

Why are fey critters so.. Nasty?

Dorian with a go on, git. I cant

What the fuucckk is iitttt??

Ooh this fight could so bad so quick Silence is saving their asses right now ooofff

Having some issues again but Idk if this is my internet or what. Audio fine but the video is frozen, had to reload... Missed a little bit.

Crazy stealth rolls from Ash and Chet, love that

And a crit fuck yes

Chet getting super gorey and I kind of love it

Fuck him up Orym, get it boo

Yess boys get it. Do the weird shit Tal yes.

I'm so excited to see what Tal is planning, I love how feral he gets with Ashton sometimes

This is going so well and I'm kinda worried

Cosmic space stuff oh yes maaann the wormhole fuck yeah

Man. I wanna read this barbarian stuff so bad

Ludinus knows that they're planning to attack the key - but is that because it's the obvious move or is it because there's a leak?

I do love that the Unseelie are like 'nah we'll sit in the shadows and watch your centuries of work crash a burn, thanks though.'

Oooh animating the statue love it, makes me think of Laerryn summoning a construct, man

Oh this is gonna be either really good or really bad holy shit

So my thought here especially since Ash went ahead and went titan, they could go in and do massive structural damage. And then as shit falls they should be able to get out safe because they can move through stone and shit right? And between that and Fearne making everything squish that shit should go down

THE INSIDE MAP AAAAA

FUCK ME I hate how big that dragon is oh my gods but he is gorgeous

Oop no statue

I think the group should try to focus on distracting these guys and Ash needs to get in there and do some seige damage and fuck shit up and then they got to GO. Fuck they can't move through worked stone, that's what it is. Hell.

I'm not sure if the Hells have ever worked together this well before

MATTHEEEWWWWW

Ugh the cliffhangers yall

I'll totally be watching again Monday because I missed somethings and I'm so tired right now.

See yall then ♥️

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🦇 Perfect on Paper Book Review 🦇

❓ #QOTD What's the best advice you've ever received or given? ❓ 🦇 High school junior Darcy Phillips has a secret identity as the relationship advice expert behind Locker 89. Leave a letter along with $10 and she'll provide the perfect solution to your relationship woes. So far, she hasn't been caught...that is, until Alexander Brougham catches her collecting letters. He'll keep her secret...if she can fix his relationship post-break-up, that is. Can Darcy help Brougham win his girlfriend back (without strangling the entitled, rich, yummy-Australian-accent-slinging swimmer) in the process?

💜 Perfect on Paper was nominated for a Goodreads Choice Award (Best Young Adult Fiction - 2021) and it's no wonder. This was the exact book bisexual baby me needed a decade ago. Though I've read a multitude of books featuring bisexual FMCs, Sophie Gonzales is the first to capture the authenticity of internalized biphobia. I'll admit I was sheltered enough that it took me a while to realize bi was even an option for me. Bisexual erasure didn't help; once I self-identified, I was given the oh-so-cliche, "that's not real," and "it's just a phase." Bitch, I'm a moon goddess; I'm in a new phase every day of my life. ANYWAY. Darcy is authentic in her concern that a crush over a guy invalidates her bi-ness. The Queer & Questioning Club scene where Darcy's community validates her was everything (and truly got me misty-eyed).

💜 The advice column aspect of the story was brilliant. Darcy's letters are written in a tone that's patient and empathetic yet informative and encouraging. She'd obviously done her research and it shows, but you see her mentally unravel the moment there's personal bias and it's BEAUTIFUL. Darcy isn't perfect. She's a high schooler, still figuring herself out. Yes, she's flawed, but she's also self-aware, willing to grow and change and take her own advice (or the advice she gets from her AMAZING trans big sister, who I adored).

💜 While this is a queer YA romance, there are so many layers beyond that. There's a mixed bag of diversity and personal trauma (and with that, potential for growth) to explore.

💙 The story DID take a minute to pick up speed, so the beginning left me waiting for a catalyst for momentum. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm no a fan of the miscommunication trope. HOWEVER, it does fit here, and proves how easily a tiny moment of misunderstanding can completely alter the course of a friendship. I did have to put the book down at one point, when Darcy's best friend outs her (I was super frustrated on Darcy's behalf because that betrayal was intense). I was disappointed that no one stepped forward and THANKED Darcy for her advice when she was getting attacked as the person behind Locker 89. People were upset BEFORE their letters were taken, but no one thanked Darcy until LONG after the situation cooled. Given Darcy's self-proclaimed success rate (was there a mention of HOW she knew she was successful, beyond the lack of refunds?), I expected a lot more praise for her abilities beyond one person.

🦇 Recommended to fans of Leah on the Offbeat and Imogen, Obviously, with a hint of To All the Boys I've Loved Before and Netflix's Sex Education.

✨ The Vibes ✨ 💌 Bisexual FMC (w/ Internalized Biphobia) 💌 Queer Young Adult Rom-Com 💌 Lots of Rep 💌 Hate-to-Love 💌 Friends to Lovers 💌 POC Sapphic Side Ship

💬 Quotes ❝ "Do you think there’s a chance that [...] you’re intellectualizing things so you don’t have to, you know, feel them?" ❞ ❝ I was sitting in the space between a sound and its echo. Brougham had asked a question, and I had to answer it. It was that, or keep dreaming about love, and working toward helping others find it, while never letting myself risk it. ❞ ❝ In some ways, we mirrored each other. We shared cracks in complementary places. ❞ ❝ Bi people are part of the queer community, and their identity does not change depending on who, if anyone, they happen to have feelings for or date at any given moment. ❞

[utilitycaster]

*Casually, to someone just offscreen.* Sometimes I see art of Imogen Temult that's leaning VERY hard into a cowgirl aesthetic, like Gunfight at the OK Corral style stuff, and to be clear, big fan of that vibe, but also she does look like palette-swapped Lark from Midst. Speaking of...

*Turns to face the camera as it cuts to a close up of me* Hi. It's tumblr user M. Utilitycaster. Do you love a space western woman who has killed and will kill again? Who doesn't entirely understand her powers but is learning to embrace them? Who is fucking weird all the time? Who loves dogs and has lightning scars? Might I recommend: Lark from Midst.

Fun facts about Lark:

owns a motorcycle

can babysit but hates it

purchases eldritch black goo as a surprise tool to use later

"Does Lark like women?" "Lark doesn't like anyone."

Performs cool one-liners but her inner monologue is just "fuck fuck fuck" the whole time

And more that would be spoilers

[miareadsbooks]

Fourth wing (Rebecca Yarros) - MY REVIEW

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“A dragon without its rider is a tragedy, A rider without their dragon is dead.”

THIS BOOK. WTF. I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS I ACTUALLY DON’T KNOW WHERE TO START!!

If somebody asked me what this book was like, I would simply say “Hunger games meets how to train your dragon.” As there is so many similarities there, and that is the best comparison I could give!!

The world building was super easy to understand, and not all at once, so the information was easy to digest. I was hooked from page 10!!

You can definitely compare the characters to the hunger games!! Violet as Katniss, Xaden as Peeta, Dain as Gale, Mira as Cinna, Jack as Cato, Imogen as clove, and Rhiannon as Joanna!! (There are so many more but I will run out of space haha!!)

I loved Xaden and Violet, but my god did their story kill me. The length of the book was very intimidating, and I didn’t like how long it took for them to even kiss, Never-mind get together! I usually hate slow burns so this was a downer, but the pay off was definitely worth it!!

As well as this, I really disliked Dain as he was such a pick me! He just gave “Pick me, choose me, love me.” vibes every where he went. Especially when he kept repeating “If you won’t leave here for you, at least do it for me.” SIR. YOU ARE A WALKING TALKING ICK. PLEASE JUST STOP. Why can’t you just accept that Violet has to do this? And rather than make her feel guilty and upset, just help her?

The dragons were super cool, And I really enjoyed the overall story, as well as her writing style!! I will definitely be reading a book from her again :)

Despite these few bad things, this book was still a five star read for me!! That ending was incredible and I genuinely loved this book🥰 It also also reminded me why I got into reading. It was a great escape and an overall really fun read!!

[vi0letnce]

@litearra 𝔯𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡: plots please

[ 𝔬𝔫𝔢 ] OKAY OKAY OKAY, you have so many cool ocs and i just !!!! ahhhhhh about all of them.  i’m going to group them into more like potential general ideas that could apply to one or more of them so yeeeeee.  first are the youngest riders, the ones that will come in violet’s second year.   make her care about them!!!   have her learn their names and keep her from backing off.   i know they’re all rebels and so probably will all hate her guts but that clearly doesn’t keep her from worrying about anyone.   give her reasons to give them tips and try to pull them under her wing.   obviously one of the easier ones might be imogen’s brother but also maybe he’d be one of the hardest after all the shit imogen talked about her last year.   but yeeeeeee, just keep her from separating herself!

[ 𝔱𝔴𝔬 ] for the riders in the year and two above violet  ( i don’t think you have any muses her year, but if you do, i suppose it applies to them too? ) ,   what do they think of violet??????  are they part of the group that wants her dead or do they not care?   what do they think once xaden and her are joined by threshing?   i think violet would try to avoid them at first even after that like all the other rebel children she comes across, but also… what’s fun is forcing two people who don’t want to be in the same space to be in the same space!!!   and of course later, they have to work together so yes.   so much potential!!!

[ 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 ] for all the fliers, AHHHHHHHHH.  i assume there will be a chance for them all to intermingle during the training or SOMETHING where they can butt heads and make friends…. or not make friends?   but also, i mean, au things might be a lot of fun.  obviously for something where violet ends up in their hands and not the other way around for obvious reasons, but again, a lot of potential worldbuilding points!

[ 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯 ] last idea is kind of more general for all of them, but just, i really want to develop a verse where the tyrrish rebels win.   not sure if anything similar to what happened to the rebel children would happen to those like violet, or if the rebels would be completely different.  the whole timeline would change, what her life would be would change, as would theirs, and i just find aus like that sooooo much fun to create.   or alternatively, if you’ve actually built something like that, tell me about it!!!!   let me in on the fun!

[cringefaecompilation]

reply dump!

hey, same here! been lurking since 2021 and made a blog just to have an archive of pretty art and share opinions.

and totally agreed with all of this. though i have seen, again, a lot of people that like c2 and c3 really dislike c1 but tend to be more... i guess placid about their c1 hate? i did see the term "shilling" get thrown around a lot when they went to whitestone to save laudna or when vax showed up to... become an orb, but people were comparatively civil about disliking the amount of c1 characters in c3 because they felt it turned bell's hells into NPCs in their own story to prop up how awesome vox machina was/is. and that's a totally valid crit, even if i don't fully agree with it!

for a bit of a tangent, c1 imo is very hard to get into due to orion acaba's presence harshing the vibes, far lower sound mixing quality, matt letting the cast walk all over him for a good 20 episodes, and said cast not taking the game seriously for the exact same amount of time until it hit its stride in episode 30. i still think its worth watching all the way through (gtfo "watch after ep 24" crowd) but it makes sense that people are more willing to be critical of it over c2 which did tighten everything up and was easily bingeable during the 2019/2020 pandemic.

many have come to dislike c2 just because people refuse to shut up about it. and not just from this ask, but i've come to find there's a lot of talk about "curating your fandom space" with c2 and its fans, even from people that like it. which i think can be explained with this following ask:

oh, i have heard horror stories about the awful, awful dramas that ensued. just read the youtube comments on any episode pre-pandemic. the fact that liam o’brien spent the entire intro of an episode of talks machina telling the fandom to shut up and stop being so cruel to marisha while she awkwardly chuckled says it all. and the constant whitewashing of veth and beau (some of it was INTENTIONAL) and shipping drama was even worse. looking back on all of that and then watching c2 fans insist how perfect c2's characters and story was with all that in the rearview is... certainly something.

but again, there is a marked lack of people saying things to the extent of "campaign 2 bad and the mighty nein are toxic and unhealthy, campaign 3 good and bell's hells are perfect found family" unlike the inverse which i see constantly. and there's nobody making passive-aggressive posts full of backhanded compliments about how much the mn suck but they still "like" them or talking about how imogen is such a better character than fjord or how orym is so much more developed than caduceus or whatever.

and i'm not saying i WANT that, dear god no. that'd be unbearable. but like i said in my previous posts on the matter, it's really hypocritical that c2 fans are so vitriolic and nasty towards this campaign when c1 fans were just as nasty about them. and some still are, i saw c1 fans that only came back into the fandom for the tlovm cartoon that talked about how obnoxious they think c2 is.

i'm just hoping that when campaign 4 rolls around and travis' next character does something morally grey that we learn from this, and we don't get people insisting that they never spewed hate over FCG as they compare their characters.

[fight4me]

Okay I'm leaving this here now while I'm thinking about it, since I just finished reading your new fic and I'm curious:

Have you got any particular or random headcanons on Maru?

Yes! I actually have more Maru headcannons than I thought. And I probably have a few more that I forgot.

●Is California born and raised.

●I believe his mom is Japanese/American and named Mary and his dad is an American named Dean.

●A little bit about those two: they met in college, Mary was in a nursing program and Dean was working on his business degree. They got married super young while still in college, and pretty soon after that had Maru. Mary put her schooling on hold for the time being, and pursued it again when Maru was old enough for pre-k. Meanwhile Dean got a desk job at an office- everything he thought he wanted. Until one day he realized he hated it- and that the windows were dirty. He left that day and started his own window washing business.

●Mary finished up school by the time Maru was six and started working at a hospital.

●He had a childhood best friend who sadly had to move away to be closer to her Abuela around this time. She was really into astronomy and space and wanted to be an astronaut. Before she moved away she taught Maru about the stars and taught him some basic Spanish. Eventually she did become an astronaut. The two stayed lifelong pen-pals.

●Maru got named after his mom. 'Maru' is kind of similar sounding to 'Mary', plus it's a nod to his Japanese heritage.

●He was a very active child. His parents kinda had a hard time keeping up with him. *also keep in mind his parents are very young parents* but nevertheless, they took it in stride.

●If it turned on, he was taking it apart. Small kitchen appliances were his most frequent victims, especially toasters. But he could put it back together. *usually*

●Loves poptarts. Cinnamon and blueberry are his favorites.

●As far as appearances go, Maru is a carbon copy of his dad. Splitting image.

●One day after school he witnessed his dad be rescued by a helicopter. Dean's window washing equipment falled and essentially... he was hanging on for dear life. However, Maru saw a well orchestrated rescue, from the roles the rescue vehicles on the ground played to the ones in the air. Ever since then he had a respect for helicopters and that was what eventually led him to work with them.

●In middle school he brought an extra apple in his lunch to the meanest ground-vehicle in school for one reason: His dad knew how to weld and that was a skill Maru wanted.

●His parents had another kid when he was in high school. A sister named Imogene. She looks a lot like Maru, but thankfully, for the sanity of Maru's parents, is a lot more chill.

●When he met Nick, he picked up on a lot more Spanish. But he didn't let anyone know he knew some. Sometimes Nick would go off script and say something off the wall in Spanish and Maru would be struggling not to burst out laughing. Nowadays at Piston Peak, secretly knowing Spanish helps him keep tabs on Backout.

●For living in apartments all his life, up until the point of Piston Peak, he adapted to nature very quickly. He's actually pretty in tune with nature. (Not Windlifter level in-tune, but, still.)

Slightly more chaotic headcannons that are most likely humanized:

●He enjoys it when Patch plays Taylor Swift's song Best Day. Especially if it's in autumn. "Cause now I know how the leaves change in the fall." Reminds him of the serenity of the park. However...

●He doesn't exactly enjoy Taylor's newer stuff. It makes his age start showing. It annoys him, he starts yelling and throwing tools. The smokejumpers have figured out exactly to push his buttons. In random situations they'll ask him, "why?" then answer, "Because she's dead!" and proceed to mock him by singing Look What You Made Me Do. (I think this scenario would also be hilarious if they were in their WoC forms.)

●Humanized Maru has broken his nose several times. Just doing stuff around the shop. He always goes to Cabbie to have him reset it. (Why does Cabbie know how to deal with broken noses? I have no idea.) As a result of having broke his nose several times his face looks a little... strange at times. But he's Maru and we all still love him for it :)

Whoa so... that was a lot. I hope I didn't bore anyone to death.