#imogen is his little cousin

[r0mc0m]

do u folks wanna meet carlos and imogen (the other 2/3 of pushing daisies) im thinking about them today

[kamaluhkhan]

we were wild and fluorescent (come home to my heart)

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: nostalgia + fluff + a bit of a *steamy* ending ; mentions of sex; swearing; conrad and reader drink alcohol; reader is a competitive swimmer + deals with a lot of pressure; complicated family dynamics (reader has two younger siblings + is eldest daughter); pop culture references (it book/movie, percy jackson series), this chapter is very long + ending is a little cheesy !!

tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije, @drikawinchester, @maybankslover, @junnniiieee07, @elcpsstuff, @fangirl-kimora, @redbierd, @starkeylover, @serrendiipty, @jackierose902109, @lonelywitchv2, @c4rpediem-s, @teensyflowur, @peteronesgf, @percysaidnever

a/n: i literally cannot express how much it means to me that people are reading + enjoying my work!! thank you endlessly for following this story. this chapter is mostly fluff with a lot of banter between the reader and conrad + nostalgia. i'm thinking this will be the last part (....unless?) so i hope you enjoy it :)

part one | part two | part three

on a summer afternoon / i get to thinkin' 'bout the hazy days / under august shade that i used to spend with you (khai dreams, “sunkissed”)

now — summer age 18

you’re already frustrated when you walk over to the beck house, and when the person you least want to answer the door opens it, your mood goes from bad to worse.

"hey. is jere home?" you ask, peering behind conrad to see if someone else, anyone else is there. this is the first time since your argument that you and he were alone together, and you really don't want to look him in the eye. he doesn't look too thrilled to see you standing on his porch, either. he looks at you with tired eyes, wearing a black, short-sleeved rashguard and hair dripping wet. 

"no, sorry." 

"how about steven?"

conrad shakes his head and droplets of water go flying. he says something about prep for the debutante ball.

you exhale sharply, upset that your backup plan just fell through. "okay, bye."

you start walking away, but conrad calls your name. 

"everything okay?"

you're surprised by his follow-up question — suspicious, even. given the harsh words you'd exchanged the last time you were together, you assumed that conrad didn't very much care to prolong a conversation with you, much less whether or not you were okay. whatever his intentions are, you don't really have time to go down this road. 

"everything's fine," you answer loudly, still forging ahead.

"come on, y/n. i know you." 

your hands clench into fists at his words and you finally stop in your tracks. 

"conrad," you huff, turning around to face him. "i really don't have time for this." 

"look, i'm not…." conrad sighs, running a hand through his wet hair. "i'm not trying to start anything. you seem a little stressed, and if there's anything i can do….just, let me be there for you."

conrad used to always be there for you in situations like these, and you ignored the sharp pain in your heart earlier when you decided he couldn't be this time. you really, really, really want to stay mad at him — you certainly have enough reasons to be for several lifetimes — but the gentleness of conrad's tone calms you down as much as it throws you off. instinctively, you feel your hands unclench, your heartbeat slow down. 

“so, what’s wrong?”

you sigh. your siblings had planned an overnight trip with their friends at a campground about 3 hours away. they were meant to leave this afternoon, but the chaperones just cancelled — one had car trouble and the other a work emergency. now, they didn’t have a ride or adult supervision, which left you to come up with an alternative, lest you want to spend the rest of your summer drying your siblings’ tears and dealing with a lengthy guilt trip from your mother (who, conveniently, has plans this weekend and can’t reschedule). you left that last part out of your story to conrad, explaining only the basic components of your dilemma.

“but, it’s fine. i’ll sort something out.” as you wait for conrad to respond, you’re already running through a few other alternatives in your mind. you’re just in the middle of estimating the amount of money you would spend on gas when conrad says:

"well, i can come with you." 

you quirk your eyebrow at him. “yeah, you don’t need —”

“you’ll need two cars — and two drivers — to get them there, right? i'm not doing anything right now, or tomorrow.”

“it’s not your problem, conrad. i’ll figure something out —”

“look, you have three options," he interrupts, tilting his head at you. "one, you take two trips yourself to get them all there, which means you’d spend around 10 hours driving each way and waste a ton of money on gas.”

you stiffen. 

you hate that he knows exactly how your brain works….

“two, the twins have to cancel their trip, and you spend the rest of the summer with your siblings upset at you and your mom suggesting that you’re a bad sister, which is not true.”

you hate that he understands exactly the situation you’re in….

“three, you let me help you.”

….and you hate that he always insists on being helpful.

that was the real reason that you didn’t want to ask conrad — because you suspected that he might offer to help regardless of the tension between you two. the conrad you remember was always concerned with doing the right thing, no matter what, and despite how different he’s acting this summer, you knew that caring boy was still there, deep down.

sometimes, you hate being right — it can get a bit tedious.

conrad waits for you to answer, but he obviously knows you well enough to guess your decision. you don’t find the prospect of camping with conrad particularly appealing, but you’re desperate.

you tell conrad to be ready to leave in an hour, before walking back to your place to tell your siblings the good news.

a little over an hour later, your siblings, their friends — devi, khadija, kai, and leo — and all the camping supplies are split in between your and conrad’s cars. you decided to divide the group into threes: you’d drive your sister, khadija and leo; and conrad would drive your brother, devi, and kai. once everyone’s buckled in, you and conrad close the trunk of your respective cars and turn to each other.

“so, we’ve got a spot booked at stardust falls, but the plan is to stop halfway —”

“at sophie’s for a bite to eat,” conrad finishes, a smile creeping on his face. “i know the drill.”

you bite back a smile yourself before nodding at him and getting in the driver's seat.

as your sister cues up a playlist — you had just made her watch lemonade mouth so she was currently obsessed with hayley kiyoko and her music — you get lost in memories of summers past. 

it was a tradition, many years ago: your siblings were too young to join, so for one weekend in late august it was you, conrad, jeremiah, belly, and steven with susannah and laurel, the seven of you piled into a minivan for an overnight camping trip. you spent the drive blasting music and singing along, playing ‘i spy’ while gorging on goldfish crackers and sunny d. about halfway through, there would be a pit stop to refill the gas tank, stock up on snacks, and get something to eat from the nearby diner. you would always get waffles with extra whipped cream and conrad would get chocolate chip pancakes, and you’d always split the food between you. once you got to stardust falls, you’d spend the afternoon swimming and sunbathing, and the night roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, stargazing and whispering until sunrise. 

as much as you loved laurel and susannah, you and conrad would dream of getting your driver’s licence and being able to continue the tradition with just the kids. you never got the chance; it was only five years ago, when you were the same age as your siblings now, that you had gone on your last camping trip to the same location. 

it seems your dreams were finally coming true — just not in the way you expected.

when you get to sophie’s diner, you’re relieved to have a chance to stretch your legs. the eight of you get a familiar booth in the right corner and you find yourself squeezed between devi and the window. the waiter distributes menus to everyone, and it isn’t until you look down that you see it: your initials next to ‘CF’. last time you were here, the five of you all carved your initials onto the table when the moms weren’t looking. you forgot that you’d placed yours right next to conrad’s; to be fair, you were always sitting next to each other. now he’s at the other end of the table on the opposite side, examining the menu carefully even after being here so many times. 

this time, you just get a coffee and steal some bacon from your brother; conrad doesn’t get anything, claiming he isn’t hungry, until your sister offers him the rest of her french toast, which he practically inhales. after, you and conrad fill up on gas while your siblings and their friends go into the store for some snacks. 

“hey, can you get me some sour patch kids?” you ask your brother, handing him a $5 bill. your brother nods and starts walking away; you glance at conrad, then add: “and some m&m’s, too!” to which your brother offers a thumbs up. 

“thanks,” conrad says. he removes the nozzle and sticks it into the gas tank; you do the same, and for a few moments, there’s nothing but silence between you.

“does listening to the lightning thief musical on repeat make your brother a theatre kid?” 

you turn to face conrad, who’s already looking at you with a lopsided smile. 

“i think it makes him more of a percy jackson kid,” you decide.

“well, he has good taste. i didn’t even know there was a percy jackson musical,” conrad adds. 

“i know, right?” you gush. “my brother and kai went to see it off broadway, and of course i had to chaperone, but i’m so glad i did because how, in the name of all the gods, did we not know this existed?”

conrad laughs. “we would have been obsessed,” he agrees. 

you smile, feeling yourself hit by another wave of nostalgia. 

when you were younger, you, conrad, jeremiah, steven, and belly loved the percy jackson series, rotating the books between the five of you until everyone had read them, the covers well-worn and sand stuck between the pages. so, for belly’s 9th birthday, laurel wrote out a prophecy with an elaborate quest for the five of you to go on - something about searching for poseidon's missing trident - while susannah used the time to fashion the backyard into your very own camp half-blood. you each got ‘assigned’ a godly parent: apollo for jeremiah, ever the sunshine boy; hermes for steven, the trickster of the group; aphrodite for belly, who looked at the world with rose coloured glasses; poseidon for you, because you loved the water; and athena for conrad, wise beyond his years. 

yes, your heart did skip a beat, because of what a perfect coincidence — that conrad was essentially the annabeth to your percy. when would the two of you share the best underwater kiss of all time? 

after a fun-filled afternoon, you each took home a necklace filled with clay beads, as was tradition at the fictional camp half-blood. even after summer ended, you would always wear yours in between swim competitions and practice. somewhere along the way, you misplaced it; it was probably left on the chlorine soaked floor of a locker room. you wondered if the others still had theirs, if conrad even remembered. 

he’s looking at you now with such wistfulness, you have a feeling he does. when he looks at you like that, it’s easy to forget that you’re mad at him and he broke your heart. scratch that: you’re mad at him because he broke your heart. 

and, not that it solves everything between you, but he’s here and didn’t have to be, and that maybe possibly heals something inside you. 

before you can continue the conversation, a sudden click indicates that the gas tanks are full, just in time for your siblings and their friends to exit the convenience store, carrying a significant haul of snacks and drinks. 

your brother hands you the sour patch kids and m&m’s, and you toss the bag of m&m’s at conrad, which he catches effortlessly. you rip open the package with your teeth and stuff a few of the sour candies in your mouth as everyone piles back into their respective cars.

you open the door to get in the driver’s seat, but the passenger side is empty. that’s when you notice that your sister and devi were still walking back from the store, taking their time. your sister laughs a little louder than usual, her smile a bit brighter when devi bends down to steal a sip of her drink. she’s wearing a jacket that you’ve never seen and probably belongs to devi, and your sister’s pair of sunglasses now rests on devi’s head. technically the sunglasses were yours, before you passed them down to your sister, but still — it’s adorable. devi winks at your sister before slipping into the backseat of conrad's car. your sister sighs contently before freezing at the realisation that you witnessed the moment between them.

"what?" she asks, a little flustered.

something makes you glance over your shoulder at conrad, who you now realise had seen the interaction between your sister and devi as well. beside him, the door to the driver’s side is also open, but he doesn’t get in. instead, conrad raises his eyebrows at you and smiles knowingly.

“nothing,” you say, smiling back at conrad, then at your sister. “but hurry up, if you want to make it to the falls before sundown.”

your sister mumbles something and gets in the car, while you check the route one more time. you tell conrad which one has the least amount of traffic, and soon enough, you’re on the road again.

conrad follows closely behind you, never allowing more than a car between before catching up. you glance in the rearview mirror and see your brother belting the words to what you assume is the percy jackson musical, and conrad is even bopping his head along. in your car, your sister is busy reading the song of achilles while the others in the back are relatively quiet. 

“so what’s going on with you and discount james dean?” your sister suddenly asks. she puts her book down, reaches over into the cupholder to grab a few sour patch kids. 

you laugh at the nickname, even if the answer disappoints you, just a bit.

“nothing.” 

out of the corner of your eye, you can glimpse your sister roll her eyes. 

“that seems to be your favourite word today,” she notes.

“fine, how about this for a change of pace….there was definitely something earlier between you and devi.”  

your sister’s jaw drops and she turns around to see if her friends heard, but khadija is asleep and leo has his headphones on, looking down at his phone.

“y/n!” 

“what!” you mock her incredulous tone. “you’re not fooling anyone.”

“i’m not…we’re not…” your sister stumbles over her words, turning her head sharply to face out the window. she plays with the sleeve of devi’s jacket, which she’s still wearing despite it almost being 85 degrees. the same music as before fills the space, and hayley kiyoko sings about girls liking girls as you wait for your sister to answer. 

she finally sighs when the song ends. “i like her, okay? but we’re just friends.”

at her words, you’re overwhelmed by an eerie sense of deja vu. if you could have done things differently, maybe you would have. and maybe, just maybe, you can help your sister have a better outcome — whatever that means for her. 

“look, kid, i know it feels like the end of the world, but you have options,” you promise. “one, you tell her and she doesn’t feel the same way; your relationship is forever ruined and your other friends have to choose sides —”

“y/n! seriously?”

“i’m just preparing you for the worst case scenario,” you defend, exiting the highway. “the best case scenario is that you tell her how you feel, or she feels the same way and beats you to it, and it all works out. and there is, of course, the secret third option.”

“what’s that?”

you shrug. “easy. you never cross that line.” you follow the signs that lead you to your destination.

“and bottle up my feelings forever,” your sister grumbles. “is that what you and conrad did?”

you make a right into the campground and put the car in park; conrad’s car pulls up next to you a few seconds later. you turn off the engine.

“not exactly.”

_________________________________________

you and conrad unpack the trunks as your siblings and their friends set up their tents. you hear their giddy banter as they plan how to spend the rest of the afternoon, as well as the sleeping arrangements. you smile to yourself when you hear devi suggest that she and your sister share a tent. the cars are pretty much empty except for some food to keep away animals, but you notice that not everything made the trip.

you double check your car, then conrad’s, before calling over your brother.

“yo, what happened to my bag?” you ask him. 

“i thought it was your swim stuff, so i took it out of the trunk,” he explains. “did you need it?”

“oh no, no. it just had all my clothes, my sleeping bag and my tent,” you say sarcastically. “no big deal.”

your brother gives you a thumbs up, clearly not getting the message. he seems more interested in kai, who's currently unpacking his guitar.

“cool,” he says before walking back to his friends. 

you huff and close your trunk. at least there is some balance in the universe: the mosquito repellant was in your bag, and your brother is usually their favourite meal. you always have afterbite, or you would have, if you had your stuff with you. 

thankfully, you had your bathing suit underneath your clothes, and you could sleep in the backseat, even if it wasn’t the most comfortable…

“everything okay?” conrad sneaks up behind you.

“turns out none of my stuff is here.” you shrug. “but it’s fine.”

“i mean, we could share my stuff,” conrad offers, lifting up his bag. knowing him, he’s probably overprepared and carefully packed, even with only an hour’s notice.

you look at him for a second. 

“let’s sort that out later, yeah?” you decide, ignoring how the prospect of wearing his clothes, sharing a tent with him, makes your heart beat faster. “i’m itching to go for a swim.”

taking advantage of the late afternoon sun, you all slather on sunscreen, throw on colourful swimsuits with sunglasses, and relax near the water. it’s only a short walk away from where you’d set up camp, and all your tents (well, except yours) are still in view. your brother, leo, and khadija are sitting down on their towels while playing cards. kai has borrowed your sister’s copy of the song of achilles to read. your sister and devi are, splashing each other in the water. conrad is reading a worn of stephen king’s it, a bottle of lemonade resting next to him.    

khadija brought her wireless speaker, and out of all your siblings’ friends, you’re thankful that she has the best taste in music. “this is the day” by the the plays in the background of everyone’s laughter and playful banter. you swim idly in the water, let your skin absorb the sunlight, and take it all in.

as much as you were stressed this morning, you’re practically floating with joy now. you feel like a kid again — and it finally feels like summer. 

your eyes land on conrad once more. he sits in the shade and you’re craving a sip of his drink, so you get out of the water and settle down next to him like it’s the most natural thing for you to do. you’re dripping on his towel, but he doesn’t seem to care; he hands you the bottle of lemonade without a word. you take a sip, surprised that it’s slightly bitter. 

“does this have vodka in it?” you cough. 

“yeah,” conrad answers, putting his book down. he takes off his sunglasses and rests them on his head. “i can get you something else, if you want.”

you shake your head and take another sip. “it’s fine. just don’t let the kids drink any alcohol, okay?”

“i won’t.” he offer you a wry smile. “but you know they’re not kids, right? they’re teenagers.”

“it feels weird calling them teenagers,” you say. he’s sitting up with his knees bent, and you lay down next to him, but not before stealing his sunglasses to shield your eyes. the sun moved slightly, and starts to peek through the leaves of the tree that was providing shade.

“just because we grew up, doesn’t mean they have to," you add once you're comfortable. 

conrad hums. you tilt your head to look at him and notice his eyes lingering on the tattoo below the band of your lime green bikini top. you smile — he blushes, then looks away. conrad takes the lemonade bottle back from you and swallows a mouthful. you close your eyes, let the sun wash over you.

“my mom told me you got into stanford,” he says suddenly. “that’s really cool that you get to go to california. just like you wanted, right?”

“i thought you hated horror,” you say, referencing the book you saw him reading earlier. you desperately want to change the subject — your father is still pushing princeton because of their swim team rankings, and your mother is too busy spending her free time in bars to really care. needless to say, where you’re going to college isn’t a topic you want to discuss, unless you’re looking to ruin this perfect sunny afternoon.

conrad just looks at you for a second before playing along.

“i usually do, but this guy on my football team wouldn’t shut up about stephen king, so i thought i’d give it a try. you’ve read it?”

“no, but i saw the movies. i cried so much in it: chapter two, like i was practically choking on tears in the middle of this dark theatre. my ex had no idea why i was crying so much.”

“why did you cry so much?”

you open your eyes. it takes you a beat to respond, because you never really thought about it that deeply. by now, the song has changed to david bowie’s ‘heroes,’ and watching your siblings and their friends goof off in the middle of summer makes you feel like a background character in a coming of age movie, when five years ago you would have been one of the main characters. you miss those days, almost as much as you miss what you had with the boy next to you.

“because it reminded me of this,” you admit. 

conrad lets out a small chuckle. “did i miss the summer where we fought a killer clown?”

“no, smart ass,” you shove his leg playfully. “but there were other things that were just as intimidating. like, parents who were jerks with soul-crushing expectations, and younger siblings who needed to be taken care of. drinking problems, cancer diagnoses, divorces. just…everything, you know? it was summer, we were kids, and things were just scary sometimes, but we always faced it together. and, then…”

“we grew up,” conrad finishes. 

“yeah,” you muse. you lift the sunglasses off your face to look at conrad, and he’s already gazing down at you. if you closed your eyes again, you could imagine laurel and susannah sitting by the water and gossiping, steven and jeremiah diving underwater to try and catch a fish with their bare hands, and belly laying in the sun while reading a romance novel she's probably too young to read. but all you see now is conrad, smiling at you softly with the golden sunlight shining behind him, and it makes your heart ache. 

belly mentioned that they hadn't been back here since you stopped coming to cousins. because it wasn't the same.

your voice drops to a whisper. “i'm sorry i ruined it."

"don't give yourself so much credit." his smile at you sadly. "we both made things messy; i should be sorry, too."

"are you?" 

he hesitates, finishes off the bottle of lemonade. 

"yeah," he finally says. "i'm sorry."

and it doesn’t feel like enough, but instead of worrying about what would happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after, you just focus on today. you relax back down on the towel next to conrad, and let the sunshine and sounds of summer fun wash over you.

the afternoon fades into the evening, and once everyone's dry, you get started on dinner, then dessert.

it's so familiar: the warm glow of the campfire, the smell of burnt marshmallows, the slight itch on your skin from where a mosquito must have bitten you, the pressure of conrad's knee pressed against yours. 

you get up for more graham crackers, and your sister follows you. 

"so, i hear you and conrad are sharing a tent," she teases. "you're welcome."

"why would i thank you?" you wonder, biting into a graham cracker. 

a wicked smile appears on your sister's face. "well, i was the one who told our dear brother that you wouldn't need your bag. i figured your boyfriend would have everything you need."

"conrad's not my boyfriend," you remind her, a little annoyed. you and conrad made nice earlier, but the peace between you is precarious. you aren't particularly thrilled to be in a situation where you're confined to close quarters together — much less now that you know it's been fabricated by your own sister.

"so then why are you and conrad sleeping together in a one person tent?" she challenges, crossing her arms.

"do you want me to sleep outside and get eaten by werewolves?" 

your sister rolls her eyes, but you notice how she shudders just a little bit. 

"those don't exist," she declares, her voice a little shaky. your sister is old enough to know that monsters aren't real, but you still get a kick out of scaring her - especially when she's done something to frustrate you.

"oh, sure they do," you reply easily. conrad arrives at the table next to you just in time, probably to check on those graham crackers you'd promised to get. "stardust falls is crawling with werewolves, right con?"

"no," he answers. your sister sighs with relief too soon, because conrad continues. "only on the full moon…." he makes a big show of pulling down his sleeve and checking his watch. "which is tonight, if i remember correctly." 

"but, don't worry," you wink at your sister. "devi will protect you."

there's a moment of silence between the three of you, before you and conrad burst out laughing. 

"you guys are the worst!" your sister groans. you and conrad are still laughing as she grabs an unopened bag of marshmallows and snatches the pack of graham crackers from you before storming away. 

"thanks,” you say once you’ve both calmed down. 

he grins at you, reaching over to grab an orange. “my pleasure.” 

you smile back at him before walking back to the campfire, already feeling warmth spread through your chest.

_________________________________________

when the night is at its darkest, everyone decides that it’s probably time for bed. you triple check to make sure the fire is out and all the food is away, and then everyone goes into their tent — with you as the exception.

you and conrad never circled back to whether or not you’d be staying in the tent with him, so you end up staying out by the water. 

there’s still some rustling and whispers from the tents behind you, but mostly you’re left with the soft trill of crickets, and what sounds like an owl in the distance. you’re still wearing your bikini top and cutoff shorts, even though there’s a cool breeze near the water, because you didn’t really have another option. conrad was right earlier — it’s a full moon, and you’re thankful that it provides some light. the sky is clear enough that you can also see the stars. you’re so lost in looking for constellations that you’re startled by the sudden appearance of shadow right next to you.

“shit, conrad. you gave me a heart attack!” you exclaim, just loud enough for conrad to hear and quiet enough to not wake the others.

“sorry,” he whispers back, sitting down next to you with a lantern. “i couldn’t sleep.” conrad tilts his head up. “but, i come bearing gifts.”

conrad hands you one of the mugs he’s holding — not the usual thermos you’d bring for camping, but ones that you’d find in the kitchen back at the beach house.  

in the dim light, you see that it’s your favorite mug, the same mug you’d dropped during your argument a few weeks ago. the cracked porcelain is so carefully repaired, you wouldn’t have known it was broken. 

“thanks,” you whisper. you take a sip of the lukewarm hot chocolate, but the warmth that spreads through your body is from conrad’s gesture more than anything.

conrad nods and points up at the stars. “find anything good?”

you launch into a detailed explanation of what constellations you’ve found so far — and, when that’s over, you continue making up stories like you’re david attenborough narrating a nature documentary. sure, it’s ridiculous to use a very serious british accent to suggest that king kong and godzilla are immortalised in the night sky, but it makes conrad chuckle, and you decide that’s worth all the stars in the universe.

in between stories, conrad asks: "are you cold?" 

conrad already knows the answer, because he passes you a light jacket without you saying a word. you shrug it on, and practically sink into the familiar fabric.

"so you're the one who had my varsity jacket," you realize. it smells like him now: lemon and sandalwood. 

conrad smiles sheepishly and shrugs. "it's a good jacket — what was i supposed to do, not wear it? you left it last summer."

last summer. 

the words hang heavy between you. 

 “y/n —”

“con —”

you both stop, waiting for the other to continue. there have been enough moments this summer where you’ve cut your heart open and conrad just watched you bleed. a part of you wanted him to do the same, even though you know how much it hurts. 

“why did you come back that night?” he asks. conrad is usually confident, sturdy, reliable; right now, though, he’s the most timid you’ve ever seen him.

“i needed to.”

“why?” he presses.

you bite the inside of your cheek, remembering yourself a year ago and all the pressure you felt, from your parents and coaches. you used to love swimming, and you realized too late how much competing took over your life. things weren’t perfect at home, either, but you were trying your best to guard that truth from your siblings. ironically, that was part of the reason you had distanced yourself from conrad in the months prior: you knew he would worry, and you didn't want to burden him.

you tell bits and pieces of this to conrad, cutting yourself open once more.

“i felt like i was drowning,” you admit. “i tried so hard to hide it —  just keep swimming, right? but it got to be too much. so last summer, when i had a meet nearby, i just had to see you, because i knew that you were the one person in the world who would jump in and save me.”

“i didn’t know.” is all conrad says for a moment. you don’t add anything, because you find yourself in the same position as always: vulnerable, pouring your heart out.

“what you said on the fourth — you were right,” conrad sighs. “when you came last summer, i was already mad at you for not coming back to cousins for so long, and then you were leaving again and i was hurt. and - it’s fucked up, but i wanted to hurt you, too.”

“mission accomplished,” you laugh sadly.

“i shouldn’t have said what i said that morning last summer, and i shouldn’t have ignored you after.”

“you shouldn’t have ignored me this summer, either” you add. you can’t help calling him out for his shitty behaviour lately as well.

“hey, you ignored me, too,” he points out. “and, yeah, maybe i deserved it. there’s just a lot going on and….” conrad trails off, his gaze fixed on something in the distance, where a sliver of golden sunlight peeks through the horizon. you and conrad must have been talking for hours because morning is now just around the corner. “i know i was a jerk. just please know how sorry i am — for everything.” 

you’re about to say something, but you can’t seem to find the right words. i'm sorry too didn't feel like enough. instead, you reach out and grab conrad’s hand. it’s cold in yours, but you don’t care.

“i can’t lose you,” conrad whispers, almost choking on the words. he squeezes your hand. “i can’t lose you, too.”

“i’m here, connie,” you whisper back. with your other hand, you brush some hair out of his eyes before using your thumb to wipe a stray tear from his cheek.  “and i’m really glad you’re here, too.”

throughout the entire conversation, you and conrad had moved closer together — now, your shoulders are touching and your left leg is bent over his right one. 

“did you mean what you said on the fourth?” conrad asks, his eyes searching yours. “do you regret that night?”

“i’m guessing you mean the us-having-sex part?” you reply, a gentle smirk on your face. 

conrad nods. he’s blinking faster than usual, and you can tell he’s anxious to hear your answer.

“if it ruined things between us, then i would,” you admit. you realize then that your hand is still on his cheek; you remove it, but keep the other intertwined with his. “tell me it didn’t ruin things between us, and maybe i’ll change my mind. i mean, do you regret it?”

conrad smiles at you, his shoulders relaxing. “no. that’s one thing i don’t think i’ll ever regret. that’s another thing you were right about — that night meant something to me. it meant everything.”

your heart skips a beat at the way he looks at you, tenderly, waiting for you to say something.

"yeah, me too. or, me neither. i mean, i’m sorry -” now, it’s your turn to stumble over your words, nerves getting the better of you - you take a deep breath to calm yourself. “i’m sorry for not being here; i’m sorry for hurting you; and i’m sorry for making you feel like i didn’t care, because that’s further from the truth.”

“i appreciate it,” conrad replies sincerely. “but i think we’ve apologized to each other enough for one night.”

you laugh. “yeah, i guess you’re right about that one. have any alternatives, fisher?”

conrad reaches up to caress your cheek, a gentle gesture that contrasts the mischievous smirk on his face. his eyes fall to your lips, then back to yours. “i can think of a few —”

you kiss him before he finishes his sentence.

maybe you'd never shared an underwater kiss, but kissing conrad feels as dynamic and unpredictable as the ocean. 

when you kissed last summer, it was like a wave breaking onto the shore: the built up anticipation finally coming to fruition. 

earlier this summer, at nicole’s party, kissing him felt dangerous, like swimming out into the turbulent water and realizing you’re in too deep. 

right now, his lips on yours feel like floating in water on a warm summer day. 

conrad slips his hand underneath your jacket, and you shiver when he touches your bare skin, right under the band of your bikini top where your tattoo is. you shift ever so slightly and suddenly you're tangled in his lap, feeling him strong and sturdy beneath you. one of your hands is on his thigh, while the other tangles into his hair. you tug the strands just the way you remember him liking it; he groans and kisses you with more intensity, a calm sea gradually becoming more rough.

once you’ve run out of air, you pull apart ever-so-slightly, appreciating his swollen lips, pink cheeks, and tousled hair in the early morning sunlight. you could do this for hours — drowning in him — and you're about to do it again, too, before you’re shocked back into reality.

“i knew it!” you hear your sister yell in the distance. she then adds something about your brother owing her ten dollars. you make a mental note to get them back later for betting on your love life. 

conrad laughs against your lips, then pulls away. you get up and offer him your hand, which he accepts with a smile. 

“you might wanna…” you gesture towards his messy hair, and he blushes even more despite how much he enjoyed it earlier. 

“right.” he clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair to tame it. 

“i’m gonna go get started on breakfast,” you say before walking a few steps closer to the campsite. 

you turn back around to conrad, who was frozen in place, looking at you carefully. his posture is stiffer than before, and it takes you a second to realize why: he’d been here before. he’d watched you leave one too many times.

not this time, though. this time, you reach out your hand — a peace offering, a promise. 

summer will end soon, and maybe you aren’t quite sure what the future holds once it does.

“so, are you coming with me or not?” 

but you do know this: when you get back to the beach house, you’ll go surfing with the fisher boys, watch movies and eat sour candy with belly, play video games with steven and jere. you’ll sneak out to meet conrad, then watch the sunrise together. the five of you will have bonfires on the beach, maybe even inviting your siblings and their friends, and roast marshmallows. susannah will host another pool party and you’ll feel conrad’s arm wrapped around your waist; he’ll kiss your cheek, sitting on the edge of the pool, and you'll jump in the water, bringing him under with you, before kissing him back. 

you'll spend one particular night in conrad's bedroom, hands and lips all over each other, trying to keep quiet, and when you search his drawers for a condom, you'll find the same necklace that you, jeremiah, steven, and belly were gifted. it holds faded clay beads painted with various symbols - a turquoise trident, a crashing wave, a rainbow, a starfish. you'll think back to how the tradition started at belly's percy jackson themed birthday, when you and conrad were 11, and susannah would give one to each of you at the end of each summer. there will be a sharp pain in your heart when you notice that some beads are missing, the years don't add up, but you'll realize, prompted by conrad's deep voice calling you back to bed, that you might be able to make up for lost time.

you'll soak up as much sunshine as you can. you’ll squeeze out every ounce of summer, and then some. you'll dust off old traditions, and make some new ones, too. you'll fill those necklaces with more clay beads.

and you'll always - always - come back home.

[quietblueriver]

For prompts: Imogen/Laudna, hound of ill omen or pâté pet fluff

So this turned into nearly 4k words on Imogen and the animals she has loved? The last section at least is directly responsive. 😬 And I might supplement with hound of ill omen at some point because he's lurking around in my head, too.

Thank you so much for the fun prompt! <3

PS - Wrote this real fast so pls excuse any errors.

-

One afternoon when Imogen was six, her daddy called her into the barn and nodded over at the old wooden trough turned on its side near the stairs to the loft. She knew what it meant, gasping and scurrying in the direction of the trough, slowing to the quickest walk she could manage at her daddy’s, “No running in the barn, Imogen.” 

And then she saw them—five tiny new things, eyes closed and mouths searching, mewling and pitiful on a pile of hay inside the shelter of the worn, dusty planks. 

Lady, their mother and Imogen’s favorite barn cat, eyed Imogen as she approached, orange and white tail flicking back and forth, one black ear twitching. Imogen couldn’t read minds (not yet, anyway) but she thought she understood–she gave Lady and her kittens plenty of space, stopping before she got too close. She sat criss-cross applesauce, watching from a distance and thinking about names until her daddy put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her toward the house for dinner. 

For the next few weeks, she went out every morning before school and every night before bed to check on them–three orange and one calico and a pretty orange and black mix. 

“Tortoiseshell,” her daddy said as he watched Imogen watch them, the black and orange–tortoiseshell–jumping and pawing fiercely at a piece of hay that stuck up from the ground. He only stayed for a moment, wiping sweat from his forehead with the navy blue bandana he always kept in his back pocket before he said, “We’re only keeping one.” When she turned to look at him, he was already focused on pulling the rake from its hook and moving toward one of the stalls. She wanted to argue but she bit her tongue. She was getting good at that. He didn’t look at her as he added, “Don’t get too attached.” 

She did get too attached. She cried when Pumpkin and Daisy went to live with Mr. Faramore’s cousin. She tried to hide it, sniffling into the sleeve of her shirt, but her daddy saw and frowned and shook his head. “That’s how it works, Imogen. I told you.” Shame curled in her stomach, and when she wiped her face again, motion hard with anger, the button on her cuff caught her cheek and split the skin. 

A few weeks later, when Scare and Crow went to live on the farm a few miles away, Imogen hid behind the barn with Ember in her arms and watched as Crow’s little orange face peeked out from the backpack where he and his brother had been put. When the horse turned the corner and she couldn’t see him anymore, Imogen put Ember back inside the barn with Lady and cried and cried until she couldn’t anymore. Throat sore and nose running, she scrubbed at her face in the stream and wiped it dry before she went inside for dinner. 

(“Of course you were attached,” Laudna whispered to her under the moonlight in a grove far, far from Gelvaan. “They were kittens. You were six.” She heard, in Laudna’s thoughts, the undercurrent of opinions on her daddy. What an absolute jackass. Honestly. When she snorted, Laudna tilted her head in that way Imogen was coming to love, one side of her mouth pulling into a smile. Sorry, darling. I don’t mean to think ill of him. 

Imogen, heart doing strange things at the word darling, only came back to herself when she noticed Laudna’s smile begin to dip. She reached out and ran tentative fingers over the back of Laudna’s hand where it lay between them. Laudna turned her palm up and caught Imogen’s fingers between her own, the brief staccato interlude in her thoughts smoothing back into a more familiar rhythm as Imogen tried for the gentlest look she could manage. It wasn’t real familiar to her, gentleness, but Laudna made it feel easier than it ever had. 

Don’t be sorry. Please. I’ve never had…Thank you, for defendin’ me. And you’re right. He was a little bit of a jackass. 

She giggled then, feeling younger and safer than she had in a long time, and Laudna’s smile came out in full, face breaking open eerie and beautiful in the night.) 

Lady disappeared almost ten years later, gone one day, then two, then a week. 

“Likely went off to die,” speculated one of the older hands, bottom lip bulging with dip that he spit into the jar in his left hand every other sentence. “Dignified, that one.”

“Or somethin’ got her. Not as fast as she used to be.” 

Imogen mucked a stall quietly as they went on, moving from Lady to the weather to crop predictions. She was sweating, so the tears blended into the water already dripping down her face, and nobody was paying her any mind anyway. 

Nobody except her daddy, apparently. He walked by a few minutes later, shadow draping over her from where he stood in the stall door. 

“That’s just how it is, Imogen.” 

I didn’t say anything, she hissed into his mind, teenage angst and righteous anger forcing more tears from her eyes. The sound of his boots tripping over each other as he backed away pulled a bitter smile from her. She never spoke into his mind. He hated it. Careful, she said, almost taunting, and she felt the anger swell in him even as he moved further away. 

She ate dinner alone that night.  

-

By the time Flora came around, Imogen was miserable. She was fighting headaches every day, and she’d alienated nearly everyone in town over the course of the last few years. 

When her powers first came, Imogen didn’t understand what was happening. Confused and generally in pain, she couldn’t always process the difference between what she heard and what she heard, which meant she sometimes responded to things that hadn’t actually been said out loud. People weren’t fond of having somebody in their mind, even if nobody was quite ready to admit that was what was happening. 

Then came the panic attacks. 

And the scars. 

And the “accidents” that happened around her. 

She’d never been popular, looked too much like her mama in a town full of people who loved her daddy, but the rumors gave them a better excuse to avoid her, and of course, to judge. 

And, to be fair, Imogen wasn’t real eager to spend her time with them either. She hated the headaches and the anxiety and she definitely hated being able to hear the thoughts vile enough to stand out in the general din, vile enough that the men who thought them suddenly found themselves tripping over nothing or falling into ponds or spilling their drinks all over themselves. She didn’t do it on purpose but she wasn’t sorry. A few of those incidents and suddenly everybody was turning to look for lavender anytime anybody had an accident. 

When Ms. Gillis dropped a basket of produce one morning at market and turned to glare at Imogen, setting all six of her kids to whispering about “the purple witch,” Imogen decided to give up the small hope she’d been clinging to that the town where she grew up might learn to accept her as she was now. 

She stopped going out when she could avoid it, and when she couldn’t, she picked times when she thought the market or the general store or wherever it was she needed to go would be least crowded, got in and out as quick as she could. At least on the farm she was mostly alone, even if it hurt that her daddy joined everybody else for lunch and left Imogen alone in the orchard or under the big tree out behind the barn. 

She was under that tree when she first saw Flora, placid as Sam and a hand she didn’t recognize walked her. She was beautiful, a sorrel with a wide white stripe down her face. Imogen absently took a last bite of apple before tossing it back into the brown bag she’d brought and standing to walk toward Sam. 

“Imogen. There you are.” He looked relieved to see her, a vaguely anxious set of feelings pressing into her mind, which meant he really did not want to be handling this horse or he really did not like the other hand. Or maybe both. “This is Dylan. They work for Mr. Langham and rode over with Flora here.” 

Imogen lifted a perfunctory hand at Dylan before moving closer to Flora. “Can I?” 

Sam nodded, stepping back with the rope, and Dylan joined him. 

“She’s real sweet,” Dylan said. “She’ll be perfect for kids.” 

Imogen stood a little closer, in Flora’s line of vision, and let her look for a minute before she pulled a piece of carrot from her pocket and laid it flat on her palm in offer. There was the familiar tickle of soft, curious muzzle against her palm as Flora sniffed. She took the treat happily, crunching and then nosing at Imogen like they were old friends. 

Imogen ran her hand down Flora’s neck and spoke softly to her until Sam cleared his throat. 

“Well. We’re gonna leave her to you.”

“We are?” 

She caught some thoughts from Sam that made her turn her face a little further away from the two of them to hide a smile. He definitely didn’t want to get away from Dylan, then. 

“Great. Thanks.” 

They were gone quickly, leaving Imogen and Flora to themselves. “Whadda ya say?” Imogen asked as Flora mouthed another piece of carrot from her palm eagerly. “Want me to show you around a bit?” She took the gentle pressure of Flora’s muzzle against her shoulder as a yes. 

Flora was sturdy and young, barely more than a filly, and Mr. Faramore wanted her for her temperament and as a tester for the riding camp he was considering, a week or two of fancy kids coming to learn about horses and then, ideally, convincing their parents to buy one from him. 

Imogen worked with her, taking over as her handler with no objection from anyone else, and they spent at least two afternoons a week together exploring the grounds. Imogen was “setting the trails” for the camp, which didn’t mean much beyond flagging trees and brush that needed to be cleared for easier passage. It was her favorite part of the week, and Flora was better company than any person she’d ever met. 

The camp never happened, but two of Mr. Faramore’s granddaughters fell in love with Flora, so she stayed, spending a few days a month saddled up for the girls. She was Imogen’s, the rest of the time–always her choice for checking the property and riding out to mend fences or for any task she could justify, really. 

She and Flora were checking some fencing, hot as hell in the afternoon sun, when Imogen heard her for the first time. Toward the forest, where an abandoned cabin sat just far enough over the property line that Mr. Faramore didn’t bother with it, Imogen caught somebody’s thoughts. 

She wasn’t digging, had at least learned how to control that part of her powers, but the surface level thoughts were more difficult to block out, especially when she had her shields down, like she usually did when she was out with Flora. She was glad, for once, that she’d been unprepared, because these thoughts weren’t like anything else she’d heard before. They were like music, flowing and self-contained and happy. 

She turned Flora toward the forest without much thought. 

The woman was weeding outside the cabin, tall and incredibly thin, long hair pinned up with some kind of chisel as she worked, talking to herself quietly. There was something not quite right about her, something unnatural that Imogen couldn’t quite pin down but felt immediately. 

It became obvious when she turned to look at them, big black eyes wide and mouth working itself into a smile that was genuine if nervous, and almost too wide to be human. Her skin was pale, too pale, and there was something black on her fingers where they gripped a bundle of weeds, roots dangling, tightly in front of her almost like a bouquet. What looked like some kind of dead creature hung from one of her belts and swayed gently with her movement. 

Imogen was grateful for Flora for a thousand reasons, but in that moment, she was especially grateful for her steady temperament and natural curiosity, because Imogen was almost certain the woman would’ve spooked every other horse in their barn. Imogen was also almost certain that the woman in front of her was dead. 

“Hello,” she said, clearly not totally dead and with a heavy accent Imogen didn’t recognize. “I’m Laudna.” 

An hour later, when Laudna hesitantly offered Flora a piece of carrot from her palm, she took it happily and Laudna laughed, a sound as musical as her thoughts, when Flora leaned into her hand looking for more. 

It wasn’t long after that Imogen let loose defending Laudna and burned away the robes of that cleric and any chance of a life for herself in Gelvaan. 

She wasn’t sorry and she wasn’t sad, not really, to leave that place. As Imogen hastily filled a pack, Laudna looking on in concern, there was a dull and familiar ache in her chest, thudding below the fire and anger she still carried on Laudna’s behalf. Every what if she’d let herself indulge in over the years, every time she’d tried to please her daddy and failed, every attempt at getting people to see her as anything other than her mother’s daughter. But that’s all they were–what ifs that Imogen was steady realizing she didn’t want anymore. 

The real hurt, as they hurried through the forest and then onto the road that led away from Faramore’s, was that light in the barn, where Marty was on shift closing things down and keeping watch. She was leaving Flora, unable to say goodbye, and she didn’t know when she’d be back. If she’d ever be back. 

She cried the next night as they settled onto bedrolls, exhausted and overwhelmed and thinking of a horse of all things. She heard her father’s sigh, saw his disappointed and slightly patronizing expression and hid her tears in her sleeve and then in the fabric of her bedroll, trying to keep quiet. 

After a few minutes, Laudna said, gently, “I know it must be very difficult. To leave. I’m sorry, Imogen. I’m so very grateful that you saved me but I can’t imagine what it cost you.” 

Imogen turned to face her, embarrassed but willing, for reasons she still didn’t quite understand, to Laudna see her. “I’d do it again, Laudna.” The anger roiled in her stomach again, overtaking her sadness for a moment. “They deserved worse than what I gave ‘em, for what they were tryin’ to do to you.” She heard doubt in Laudna’s mind, and Imogen didn’t know yet how to fix that but she had time now to figure it out. 

“Honestly, I feel more relief than anythin’ else.” Laudna watched her, pools of black reflecting the soft light of the moon. “I won’t miss it. I’m…I’m excited to explore. I’m excited to explore with you. I’m real glad I met you.”

“I’m glad I met you, too. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a very, very long time.” Ever rang in her mind, loud and earnest enough for Imogen to hear. The fierce, protective thing that had started building in Imogen’s chest that first afternoon was growing faster than she knew what to do with. 

“I feel the same way.” 

And then Imogen thought of Flora again and found the tears were back. A noise, something affectionate and concerned that was entirely foreign to Imogen, escaped Laudna’s mouth before she sat up and dug in her pack, turning back with a handkerchief which she handed to Imogen. It was soft, embroidered with something she couldn’t quite make out in the dark, and it felt about a million times better than her shirt or her bedroll against her cheeks. 

“Thanks.” 

“Of course. I…I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but I think I’m quite a good listener, if you do.” 

Imogen folded the handkerchief to keep her hands busy as she said, so soft she was afraid Laudna wouldn’t even hear her, “I miss my horse. Flora. I know that’s…I know it’s silly. I just…” 

She shrugged, chest tight, and Laudna moved closer to her, placed a hand on Imogen’s shoulder, cool even through the fabric of her shirt. 

“It’s not silly. It’s not silly at all.” 

It set something loose in her, the honest way Laudna said it, the echo of that honesty in her mind, and suddenly big, ridiculous tears were dripping down her face and Laudna’s arms were wrapped around her, her neck cool against Imogen’s forehead. 

“I liked her better than most people.” 

“Well, that makes sense. Aside from you, the people in Gelvaan didn’t make the best impression, I must say.” Imogen laughed into Laudna’s shoulder as she continued, “No offense intended, of course. I know I’m not exactly a welcome sight.” “You are to me.” 

She was quiet then, surprise and affection and longstanding shame whirling around in her mind. After a moment, she asked, “Would you like to tell me about Flora?” 

“I think…I think I would.” 

-

Pate de Rolo was, objectively, horrifying. 

Laudna had done a very thorough job preserving his body, and the skull was immaculately clean, but there was no getting around the horror of the creation–the mismatched parts and the patchiness of his thin coat; the dry, flaky reality of his tail; the unnatural stiffness of his joints as Laudna puppeted him, talented hands bringing his movements eerily close to what they might have been in life. 

The first time Laudna brought him from her belt with an excited, “Oh, let me introduce you to Pate,” Imogen had worked as hard as she could to keep her smile, to fight the instinct toward disgust. She managed, because she knew a hurt thing when she saw one, and she didn’t want to hurt Laudna any further, but it was a near thing. 

“Oh, so lovely to meet you, Pate.” 

“Pleasure’s all mine.” It was lecherous. It was hilarious. It was one of the most disturbing things Imogen had ever seen. 

Laudna looked between them, seeming incredibly pleased, and Imogen, unbelievably, found herself wanting to keep the little monster going, if it meant making Laudna happy. She bolstered herself. 

“Pate, Laudna mentioned y’all have traveled all over. She was tellin’ me about the mountains. Do you have a favorite place?” 

“Well, I always do like the beaches. For the views, if ya know what I mean…”

Suffering through the ensuing monologue was nothing compared to the pride that bloomed in Imogen’s chest at Laudna’s beaming smile. 

Over the course of their first few months together, Imogen began to understand what it meant when Pate made an appearance. 

Sometimes, of course, Laudna was bored and they were around the fire and Pate provided a ridiculous and entertaining way to spend an hour before bed. Imogen found it easy to move past disgust as she got to know Laudna, let herself see beyond the grotesque corpse and recognize something that had helped her friend, who had quickly become her favorite person in the world, survive desperate loneliness and nearly unending cruelty. She found it easy, when she thought of him that way, to love him as an extension of Laudna. 

And it became clear that he was an extension of Laudna, in more ways than one, as they traveled. The first time they were chased out of a cabin, she saw Laudna’s body shift into something Imogen found both terrifying and beautiful to defend them, limbs expanding and spine cracking as ichor pooled on her skin, a veil of black descending from nowhere to cover her face. That night, as they sat around the fire, Pate came out almost immediately. 

“Well that was a right mess, wunnit?” 

“It was.” Imogen moved closer on the log they shared, making the offer of contact but leaving Laudna the option to refuse. “We would’ve been in real trouble without Laudna, yeah?” 

Pate danced as Laudna’s fingers moved, somehow managing to convey a shrug in the rat-raven creation. “I dunno. I reckon anything would be scared of her, like that. Boss is awful enough when she’s not a monster.” 

“I’m not scared of her.” Laudna lifted her eyes from Pate to meet Imogen’s as she said, “And she’s not awful. She’s my best friend.” Black ichor dripped down Laudna’s cheeks as her fragile ankle shifted just enough to touch Imogen’s. “I thought it was really fuckin’ cool.” Laudna snuffled and Imogen grinned, bending down to Pate and stage-whispering, “Did you see that one guy piss himself?” 

Pate cackled, and Laudna moved to close the rest of the distance between them. 

When Laudna died, the second time, Imogen took his small body and kept it close to her. She couldn’t puppet him, didn’t want to try, but she spoke to him, whispered to him as she set him in a small nest she made from her bandana each night. “Don’t worry, Pate. We’ll get her back. I promise.” 

And then he came back with her, ribcage cracking and squelching, off-color observations flying as free as he now could. It was suddenly more difficult to love him, Imogen forcing down disgust in a way she hadn’t in a long time. There was less incentive, now that he was an independent creature, but he was still Pate and he had still saved Laudna, even if he hadn’t been, well, him. 

He found her one night as Ashton and Laudna played a game of cards, Laudna cackling in delight as they accused each other, loudly, of cheating nearly every hand. It was so good, to hear her laughing again. 

“‘Ey, boss.” 

He landed on a branch near her head, wings folding back into his body with a series of motions and noises that made Imogen smile to suppress a gag. 

“Pate. I didn’t realize you were out.” 

“Mum sent me to check on ya.” 

Imogen looked back to Laudna, who was waving a hand dismissively at Ashton, nose turned up. Her eyes caught Imogen’s as she turned away from him with a scoff, and she winked before she threw herself back into their argument, brushing her hair out of her face with an exaggerated motion. Imogen blushed and bit her lip before she remembered she wasn’t alone, clearing her throat and shaking her head before the world’s lewdest undead flying rodent noticed her being a lovesick fool. 

“She did, did she?”

“Aye. She worries about you, ya know? It was a hard fight, today.” 

It was, objectively, but relative to the past few weeks it was nothing. She’d be fine after a good night’s rest. 

“I’m good.” At his uncharacteristic silence, she realized Laudna really must’ve been concerned, so she continued, “Real good, honestly. Just need some sleep. I hadn’t been sleepin’ well, but it’s easier, now that we’re back together. Now that we’re…”

Pate didn’t have lips but he still grinned, somehow, bone-white face more expressive than it had any right to be. 

“Now that you and mum’re smashin’, ya mean?” 

“Pate.” Her face was red hot, embarrassing on its own and somehow even more embarrassing because her girlfriend’s perverted rat-raven familiar had managed to make it happen. 

“I’m real ‘appy for ya.” At her pointed eyebrow, he raised a rat hand in the air, wobbling a little as he rebalanced. “Honest.” 

“Mmhmm.” Ashton was up from his seat, arms flailing with enough distress that FCG had begun to make his way over to the duo. Laudna looked like she was having the best day of her life. “An’ how’s she doin’? Really?” 

Pate grunted. “Been better, I reckon, but she’ll be alright, our girl. She’s tough.” 

Right. This was why she tried to be kind, to hold her distaste at bay, to maintain some kind of love for him. Laudna was their girl. And she’d been Pate’s girl for a lot longer than she’d been Imogen’s. 

Imogen stroked the slope of his skull and patted her shoulder, affection and disgust warring within her at the feel of undead claws on her skin. He settled and they watched together as Laudna and Ashton continued, Letters stationed close. 

“She’ll be alright.” Imogen said it for the both of them, an affirmation and a promise. 

Skull scraped skin as he moved to speak, and goosebumps broke out across Imogen’s shoulders, an instinct she couldn’t suppress. 

“‘Course she will. She’s got us, after all.” 

[unicyclehippo]

For the one-word prompts, glutted?

post 67

the hound lay at the entrance to their hideaway, glutted on scraps and slumbering, content, under laudna’s stroking hand.

it was, it had to be said, a wretched thing. what skin it had was mottled and torn to reveal grey flesh; what grey flesh it had was ravaged and split to reveal bone; what bone it had was brittle and cracked, missing pieces of itself to reveal the hollow hurting ooze of marrow and shadow; what shadow it had menaced in eye hollows and the depths of a growling throat, it was a flicker of dark purpose linking bones and ragged tendons. it was also just kind of gross. the shadow bled out of the hound as they rested, a creeping pool of black that was starting to be soaked up in the hem of laudna’s new skirt. she didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she didn’t mind. long pale fingers scratching behind a tattered ear.

‘does it have a name?’ imogen eases herself down at laudna’s side, a full plate for them both to share in one hand. she uses the rock wall for help instead of laudna’s shoulder; that would only end in disaster or dislocation and she figures they’ve both had enough ouches for the day.

two pairs of inky eyes blink over at her. the hound growls, low in its chest.

‘don’t be foolish,’ laudna chastises. for a moment, imogen can’t be sure who she’s talking to. ‘this is imogen. if you growl at her again i’ll unravel you.’

it ought to worry her, the way laudna’s been talking to them. pate, the hound. and it does, a little—the scolding, the rebukes, the dismissing. it doesn’t matter if pate dies, he’s already dead. let me throw him, let me use him, he’s mine i made him. that coiled tacky knot of pride and disgust. look at what i’ve made.

imogen lifts pate onto her shoulder and settles their dinner on her knee.

‘it’s alright. it’s brand new.’

‘no it’s not. it helped kill a judicator.’

imogen hums, nods. ‘and you told it all about me during the fight.’

‘well. no, but,’

‘so how could it know?’ she clicks her tongue st it and, when it lifts its head, curious, she pats it. it was cool to the touch, something imogen was quite familiar with, and slimy. if tar had a dead cousin, that was what the shadows were fashioned from; it left a grey film on her fingers that laudna groaned about but imogen only laughed, burned it away with a flicker of lightning. ‘are you going to name it?’

laudna grimaces. pats it a moment longer before her fingers curl around a black current of energy, a leash, and the hound sighs and collapses in on itself. when it’s over, there’s nothing left but a black stain on the rock.

‘we shall have a menagerie soon,’ laudna jokes. her mouth stretches in a pretty smile. her eyes stay locked on her lap, her twisting fingers. ‘pate, mister, the dog.’

‘chet.’

it startles a chortling laugh from laudna, that really wonderful one, boisterous, gleeful. ‘that’s wicked,’ she scolds, grinning.

imogen grins back. ‘i love your laugh.’

laudna’s eyes widen. she laughs again, nervous. glances over to the rest of their party clustered closer to the smokeless flame, orym with his sister. when she looks back to imogen, shadows slink through her shadow-black hair, and secrets creep behind her eyes, soft and hazy. ‘m-my laugh?’ she asks, softly. ‘truly?’

‘yeah. always. i like how you can tell how genuine it is.’

laudna ducks her head. ‘i have always enjoyed yours as well.’

‘i sound like a horse,’ imogen grumbles. laudna nods, very sweetly, which earns her a gentle slap on the shoulder. ‘you’re ‘sposed to say no, imogen, you don’t sound like a horse,’

‘darling, you do. it’s very…’ laudna tilts her head to an uncomfortable angle. ‘cute,’ she says slowly, word awkward and uncertain, like she isn’t sure of it, sure she should be using it. ‘it’s - well - it has always been such a treat. you don’t laugh nearly enough, in my opinion.’

‘i don’t remember laughing before i met you.’

laudna smiles again, eyes soft. it’s sad and a little awful, to admit it, to think it—surely there was a time, some friends when she was younger, but the memories are staticky with hurt and fear piled over them. there’s something so nice about laudna, her cheer of course, but also her teeth, her chill, the way she can reach out and menace someone to their very soul. with laudna at her side, hurt and fear can’t do very much.

‘i was considering truffle. for the dog.’

‘truffle.’

‘yes! it has such a prominent snout, perhaps it was a truffle hunter in another life.’

imogen settles their dinner plate between them, moves so she can be close to laudna. tuck herself into her side, almost as protected as she had been, wounded, shielded. ‘i like it.’

‘but you don’t love it.’

‘i just don’t know if it fits.’

‘no? hmm. i’ll give it some thought.’

[shadowhandss60]

I saw your plea for fanfic ideas and immediately hit the ask button.

I beg of you please give us manorian and the thirteen but like happy. This fandom deprives me of happy thirteen content.

Tried for happy and cute while trying to remain true to the characters 🙂

(I liked this, now I wanna do more happy moments with Manorian and the Thirteen)

***

"Neat trick." Asterin said, lying back on her bedroll. She had an arm tucked behind her head as she stared at Dorian.

He was sitting upright, one arm propped on his bent knee while the other swirled in the air, passing various elements around the fire he had created before them.

"I think it would be more interesting were he to set something or someone on fire," Vesta called from the opposite side, staring a little too long at the king before her.

"Yeah, you.” Sorrel grumbled from her place to the left of Asterin, facedown on her bedroll.

A few of the thirteen laughed at that and Vesta flashed a vulgar gesture towards Sorrel, which the third could not see but returned all the same.

Dorian chuckled under his breath, eyes unfocused as he searched for something, or someone, beyond the circle.

Asterin had noted Manon and Dorian's inclination to save space beside one another when it came time for rest early on in their journey, though she never mentioned it to either of them.

He sent a flame careening around the group and Asterin tracked the glow in the rest of the thirteen’s eyes as they followed it.

The king’s gaze shifted back to the forest before his sapphire eyes landed on the fire again.

"How does it work?" Briar, of all people, called out beside Vesta.

She had been sitting crossed-legged with her arms folded, scowling at the king for darkness knew how long. It was a good sign, considering she usually outright glared at outsiders.

"I just will it." Dorian shrugged. "Sounds foolish when I say it, but it's really my only explanation. I tend to think of some of the elements as seasons at times; it helps me focus when I'm training."

The ball of ice circling the group began to grow until it burst into a whisp of fine flakes that scattered in the breeze, though none hit them.

Imogen raised her hand from her bedroll to try and caress them but said nothing, turning her head to face the king from her place beside Sorrel.

"Ice and snow for winter."

"Your personal favorite," Vesta noted gesturing with the blade she had begun sharpening.

Dorian shrugged. "Yes, you could say that."

A few others sat up, not awoken as none had been sleeping, all waiting for their Wingleader to return, but rather intrigued.

Asterin then heard a sound like a waterfall and looked up to see the dome surrounding the camp where water seemed to trickle down around them, reaching far enough to cover their group of wyverns.

"Water for spring." Dorian continued.

The rain began to stream heavier down the sides of the dome, then as he brought his hand down to stop the downpour, the fire before them roared.

The shield surrounding the camp seemed to thicken as if to keep the blazing light hidden from any watchful eyes.

"Fire for summer."

Asterin looked to him then, his eyes blazing gold when reflected in the firelight.

There was a pause as the flames ceased and Dorian must have been reaching out with his magic as both he, Asterin, and the rest of the thirteen turned their heads to the sound of approaching footsteps.

Manon Blackbeak made her way through the foliage, her hair near luminous in the moon and firelight. Asterin could hear Dorian swallow.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes as Manon's gaze met the king next to her.

"And for Autumn, princeling?" Her cousin's voice rang out as she made her way forward, her mask of annoyance unwavering, though Asterin knew her enough to note the curiosity brimming under the surface.

Asterin turned to Dorian and he kept his eyes focused on Manon, cocking his head slightly, and the wind around them began to roar.

The fire and those on their bedrolls remained untouched, but Asterin could hear the whistle in her ears as if she were soaring through the skies on the back of Narene.

She glanced back to Manon as she strode towards the fire and saw her cousin's hair a whipping mass around her face as she scowled.

Thea snorted and Vesta chuckled under her breath, catching a glare from Manon that had her quieting.

"Wind." The king smirked, resting back on his hands as he surveyed Manon, now standing above him in the space he had unconsciously left for her.

There was a smile playing on his lips that nearly made Asterin grin in return.

She was wary of him when they first met; they all were, but his respect for Manon was evident in how he spoke to her.

Though he challenged her, it was never in a way that made her second's hackles rise. If anything, she found it a grand source of entertainment.

Faline and Fallon had questioned as to why Manon had not killed him yet.

With the way he sometimes spoke so freely with her, it was a wonder he wasn't asking for it, but the demon-twins likely didn't mean it as a genuine question because they could all see the spark of lust and intrigue in Manon's gaze whenever he had a smartass remark or outright questioned her.

Like she wasn't a battle-forged weapon he should fear.

They had all seen him with the collar, seen the monsters that lay underneath the skin, wearing beautiful faces as masks to hide a thirst for violence that even repulsed them.

They knew that he had likely seen nightmares far worse than what surrounded him in this circle, so Asterin found it fitting that he would be the one to pique the Wing Leader's interest.

None had ever spoken to her like that, not even Asterin until recently; she couldn't help but smile at the softness Manon tried to hide when she saw the king.

It reminded her of that cabin, of her hunter, of a life she may not lead but one that Manon may yet experience.

Manon reached down and shoved Dorian's shoulder harder than was necessary as she tugged her bedroll from her shoulder.

"Very cute." She deadpanned.

Kaya grinned from across the fire beside Vesta, and Manon's head shot up as if she could sense it.

"Something funny?"

The witch's grin broadened, but she shook her head, the king speaking in her sted.

"Sarcasm suits you," Dorian said beside her. "Even with that delivery."

Manon stiffened, but she could see her cousin fighting a smile from her place beside her.

"Oh?" She continued to spread the stiff roll of leather. "And what delivery may that be, princeling."

It seemed as though everyone was sitting up now; they had all grown accustomed to the teasing and flirting amongst the two monarchs.

Asterin sometimes grew tired of it as Manon's cousin, but she couldn't deny that the sight of Manon frustrated, in more ways than one, wasn't entertaining.

"Like you'd like to kill me in my sleep tonight."

A few snickers rang around the fire, "Keep talking and I just might."

The king shrugged and laid down again, one arm bent behind his head. Manon sat, still facing the fire.

"I'd like to see you try."

Manon faced him then and though Asterin couldn't see her, she could feel the violence dripping from her posture, mixed with-

"Gross." Sorrel called out beside her.

Manon snapped her head towards her third. “What?" She hissed.

"Oh, you know what…I can't wait until you two can get some privacy and leave us out of this." Thea called.

A few of the other witches began chuckling, and even Asterin couldn't hide her snort of laughter.

Manon's eyes seemed to blaze as she stared down her cousin.

Asterin didn't try to hide her smile. "Don't blame me. You're the one that brought us this particular brand of entertainment."

There were full-on laughs around the fire now and it looked as though Manon was five seconds away from shoving someone into the flames.

"Entertainment, am I?" Dorian purred from the other side of Manon and she sucked in a sharp hiss of breath.

"Yes, and a glorified guard. That is all."

Dorian's eyes glimmered with mischief, but all he said was, "Hmmm." As he again faced the sky, twirled a small vortex of ice, and sent it around the fire.

Suddenly, a small thud from the opposite side of where their Wyverns were, brought them all bolt upright; Manon and the rest of the thirteen stood while Dorian crouched, hands flexed and looking as though they were dipped in ice.

They settled when they saw Abraxos staring from the other side of the shield Dorian had out, looking as annoyed as she had ever seen.

“You can leave but I have to open it to get back in.” Dorian grinned sheepishly towards the wyvern, as if he could understand such things. "Sorry."

Manon scoffed and walked towards her mount.

"You're insufferable." She called out as she strode towards him but her hand stroked his face affectionately, scratching at a scar behind his left eye that had him nearly kicking like a dog.

The beast opened his maw, and a heap of wet, saliva-covered, yellow flowers rolled off his tongue like some kind of offering and Manon jumped to the side.

"What-"

She was cut off by Thea and Kaya bursting into laughter, followed by Vesta and even the green-eyed demon twins.

If looks could kill, they would have all fallen prey to the glare thrown at them by her cousin.

Still, as Dorian, Sorrel, and Asterin joined in the fray of laughter, Manon's glare subsided into the slightest grin that had the rest of the witches grinning or continuing in their laughter.

A short grunt sounded from Abraxos and Manon turned to face him again as he closed his eyes and seemed to be nuzzled by an invisible force, his chin lifting as if Manon were still scratching at him though her hands were at her side.

They all turned to Dorian, where he now lay on his bedroll, eyes wholly trained on Manon as if 13 deadly witches did not surround him.

He merely smiled and she continued to stare back long enough that Vesta cleared her throat

"Darkness save us. Could you too not grope eachother in front of us."

Manon snarled at that, "No one was groping, watch it."

Vesta snorted and laid back again, settling with her feet stretching towards the fire, raising her hand and flicking it in the air.

"I don't know what he does with those weird ghost hands of his."

"No, but you'd like too-" Imogen sing-songed but was cut off with a grunt, likely from an elbow to the ribs.

Manon scowled, giving Abraxos one last pat on his snout before he sauntered back to nuzzle Asterin's mount, nudging a soaked flower towards her.

She smiles at the gesture and turned back to her cousin, noting the slight flush on her cheeks but deciding not to comment.

"Whoever isn't sleeping in the next 10 minutes is training the princeling tomorrow."

Edda spoke at that, "So, say I'm awake in eleven, I get to spar with him?"

Dorian groaned and rolled towards Manon, speaking in a loud whisper. “Gods help me, make it 30 minutes, please. She’ll be out in 20, and you won’t like me missing teeth.”

Asterin could hear the smile in Manon's voice but her tone was final for all.

"Sleep."

****

Asterin woke at dawn; the sounds around them were muted due to the shield Dorian could somehow keep as he slept though he had his magic reaching beyond, should someone approach.

She sat up on her bedroll, careful not to rouse the others.

Stretching, she smiled to herself as she saw Manon and the king facing each other, though Manon rarely slept on her side, their fingers nearly brushing as they seemed to reach towards each other like reflections in a mirror.

[alexandia03]

Oh well, I thought it might be a good time to give you all a little snippet from one of the chapters I am working on when I take a break from Penelope and Odysseus (NOT the next chapter, bear in mind).

I will patiently wait for you all to come with pitchfork and torches after me for writing a Xaden POV where he is less than stellar now.

“You hurt him enough.” Quinn adds, her hand hovering over the handle of her labrys when I glare at her. “He doesn't need you barging in there right now – that would only make you feel better, not him.”

“Don't talk about things you know nothing about, Artan. This is none of your business.” I snap at her, trying to ignore the nagging tightening feeling inside of my stomach at her words. She doesn’t know what she is talking about – Bodhi needs me, whenever he was in pain, he always needed me.

“When was the last time something like that happened?” Sgaeyl's voice breaks through the cracks in my mind shield. “He hasn't sought comfort in you in a long time.”

“That is only because Imogen got between us. She inserted herself in his life and stole my role. But that ends today.” I argue, trying to at least convince my dragon that I am the wronged one here. That I am right.

To her credit, Quinn doesn't even blink at my outburst. However, she squares her shoulders and her upper lip pulls into an angry snarl. “No, Riorson! You are the one who has no fucking clue what he is talking about here! I am sick of you barging in as if you are entitled to everyone following your every command!” She yells back and I am taken aback for a second. I don't think I have ever heard easy-going, bubbly Quinn Artan scream at someone. Let alone at me. “You came to Basgiath every other week, yet not once did I see you so much as ask Bodhi how he is feeling or how his arm was healing! Not once! But what I did hear was you ordering him around on each and every one of your visits and complaining whenever he didn't meet your crazy high expectations! You were pushing him beyond the reasonable limit with the weapon runs, berating him whenever one of the marked ones still in the Quadrant was falling behind… and as if that was not enough, you made him responsible for Sorrengail’s ass too! You have been running him into the ground and biting his head off for every slight mistake, but that poor idiot never once complained or disobeyed you! All of that while he was in agonizing pain and had other responsibilities and problems on top of it all!”

“I didn't know that his arm was not healing properly.” At this point I am aware that I probably sound like a broken record, but it's the truth. Had I known he was in so much pain, I wouldn't have been so harsh with him when something didn't go according to plan. I am not a monster, I care about my cousin! “Had they told me –”

“Had they told you, you would have done what, Xaden?!” Garrick shouts, his face contorted with anger. “Stop fucking hiding behind that excuse! They shouldn't have said anything for you to notice if you truly gave a shit! But unless it concerned Sorrengail, you couldn't be bothered! I thought you learned your lesson after you almost got Imogen killed last year… after Liam fucking died! But no, when it comes to her, everything and everyone ceases to exist and no price is too high!” 

“Watch it, Tavis!” Brennan growls, peeling himself off the wall, but before he can take more than a step towards us, Garrick hurls a dagger towards him, manipulating its trajectory so it lands into the wall right by the mender’s ear. 

“No, you watch it, Sorrengail! I am sick and tired of your family fucking up mine!” Garrick explodes, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of me as he rips into Brennan. “I am not going to blame your sister for all this, but I am going to blame you two for the decisions you take in her name, effectively fucking all of us over! I am done putting up with your fucking preferential treatment, gods only know no one is going to keep any of us in a glass bubble like you try to do with her!”

[bayoubashsims]

Cousin Itt's extended family came to see the new baby What and welcomes Margaret into the family!

(clockwise from left to right: Uncle Ishmael, Itt's uncle; Cousin Isabelle and Cousin Indigo, Ishmael's grandchildren; Cousin Ian and his wife Cousin Irene, who is Ishmael's daughter; Aunt Irma, Uncle Ishmael's wife; and two other of Ian and Irene's children, Ilbert and Imogen. Also with Auntie Irma's dog, Impy!

A little something I've been working on with @the-sims-of-frogton, I have finally learned something about converting meshes.

Check out her blog with Cousin Itt and What. I'm working on the rest of the family meshes and maybe making a showerproof skintone.

[warwickroyals]

🖋️AUTHOR'S NOTES

READ THE POST + RELEVANT STORY POSTS: PHILLIP

For the first time, we're seeing how Phillip and Jean's relationship is being received by the royal family: Not Well. Phillip had the good sense to prevent Jean from becoming mixed up with the royal family because they correctly predicted that they wouldn't approve of her. We the readers know the positive impact Jean has had on Phillip's life, but the rest of his family are unaware of that and have jumped to many conclusions just based on their prejudices. There's some dialogue spoken by Princess Mary (Louis's cousin) that I cut because it was pretty on the nose, but it involved Mary caring more about Jean's well-publicized thirst traps rather than her being Asian. "I didn't even know she was Asian until the media reported on it," Mary says, an assertion so laughable that even Shelby is confused by it. I cut these lines out because, on top of being blatant, they add nothing. The lines that really matter aren't part of an unhinged sexist rant. In particular, it's this line right here:

"Not everyone is meant to be a princess."

Yes, that's true not everyone is meant to be a princess, and it's the exclusivity that causes these toxic beliefs to come out. In order to become a princess all Jean would have to do is marry Phillip, nothing about her character would prevent her from that rank. However, those already within the system have a lot today about her character regardless. It's almost as if royalty is an inequitable system at its core and those with power will do anything to maintain that inequity so as to keep themselves superior.

This calls to Shelby in particular who, unlike the old blood princesses, has no coherent reason that explains her dislike of Jean. Jean is both uninteresting enough for her to not warrant any media attention, but at the same time is a homewrecking monster destroying the royal family and preventing Phillip from being a good father. It makes no fucking sense.

Below is a screenshot I really wish I could have included, but it's still canon. Shelby's lack of compassion hasn't had an effect on Imogen, it seems. While Shelby seeks to exclude outsiders, here's her six-year-old daughter openly spending time with Margaux, an outsider from birth, blissfully unaware of her mother's illogical prejudice.

READ THE POST + RELEVANT STORY POSTS: NICHOLAS, SCHUYLER, SCHUYLER II

I've stated before that I want to get into the power behind the crown: the palace staff. The staff are the people who really get things done within the royal family. They control how the media reports on the family, government affairs, and liaise with external stakeholders and potential business partners. Obviously, this comes with a lot of power, but on top of this, certain members of staff are not above manipulating their relationships with their bosses in order to get what they want.

Enter Jennifer Ware, Nicholas's shrewd communications secretary. Jennifer and Nicholas have a shared interest in the sense that they're not all that fond of Alex. Both believe he's a huge liability that compromises the monarchy's image. Here we're seeing them work together to control the narrative surrounding Alex. Nicholas relies on Jennifer to get his side of the story out in the press, and Jennifer is happy to oblige as if it further alienates Alex from the main fold.

However, I think there are some underlying tensions there. Nicholas has previously rejected offers to brief the press about family members, mainly Louis, in the past. With Alex however, Nicholas seems to throw away all his standards and seems almost guilty as a result. He insults the quality of the article and states several times that no one will believe it. Jennifer's the one who has to twist his arm a little to insure him "Truth is subjective".

Translation? "If I push this lie hard enough, people will believe it regardless." And, boy, is Jen pushing this story. We're introduced to Nasty Women a talk show meant be a spoof of The View and L0ose Women. Here we see one of the hosts, Blainley, parroting Jennifer's spin on things in a far more aggressive manner. Blainley will become a recurring character and she serves as an example of the corruption that flourishes when the media sells out to these huge institutions. The more we see of her, the more galvanized she becomes.

Poor Tatiana, I'd like to imagine she was trying to take her mind off things by watching one of her favourite talk shows during a painful dress fitting (she is Nasty Woman's main demographic, after all). Instead, she's treated to the hosts shit-talking her child. She was probably so preoccupied, she didn't even hear the insults coming from her dressmakers. Palace staff at Chester Palace are a little too comfortable, it seems.

READ THE POST + RELEVANT STORY POSTS: TATIANA, SCHUYLER, TATIANA

Ah, devoted mother Tatiana, how I'm going to love deconstructing your character. We've seen Tatiana's grief be self-sacrificing and, let's be honest, slightly annoying. Now we're actually getting into the negative side-effects of her being so damn lonely all the time: her affair with her private secretary. Suddenly it makes sense as to why Schuyler hasn't resigned from his position. We also get glimpses of Schuyler's personal life, he has a single daughter who 1) lives away from home despite being quite young and 2) doesn't get along with him very much. We also get glimpses into just how close the Schuyler family is with the Danforths:

"Saoirse likes me. I’ve been giving her hand-me-downs since she was fifteen."

There are several reasons that Tatiana is having an affair with Schuyler in particular, most of them emotional, but the main one being more calculating. Schuyler's position allows him a great deal of power and Tatiana's closeness to him allows her to easily sway him into doing things. We see that at the end of this post, she's getting Schuyler to do her dirty work and "handle" the mess that is Alex's personal life. She's very good at it, she calls him "David" (the first time we've heard Sky's given name) and lays it on thick for him without coming off desperate (which, is what most people see her as). That's a pretty big dick move from Tatiana, considering Jennifer explicitly told her not to get involved. Maybe there is a little bit of defiance in her after all? She did promise to help Kamryn out.

Plus, I love the location of NYC (Putting the Empire State Building in the background such a fun little detail). I'd like to imagine that Tatiana and Schuyler don't actually "see" each other that much, but when they do it's never on Sunderlandian soil. Schuyler in particular seems paranoid about the press finding out and why shouldn't he? Between the two he's the married party.

Also, Tatiana genuinely isn't an alcoholic. But she loves her Merlot.

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Gryfflepuff in the Tardis' Masterlist

All my Works, characters are colored by which Hogwarts House I think they're in. I am a Primary Hufflepuff, Secondary Gryffindor and I genuinely think Hufflepuff is the best and most underrated house.

Ninth Doctor - Brooding Time Lord Who Tries To Hide His Light with Darkness

Supernova Series/Season One Masterlist (Ninth Doctor/Tenth Doctor) (Delilah "Lillie" Tyler/Princess Supernova played by Katherine Langford)

Tenth Doctor - Hyperactive Time Lord Who Is Always Being Slapped Born From His Love For a Human Who Tries To Hide His Darkness and Trauma With Light

Campbell Bain - Bipolar Nineteen-Year-Old Walking Ray of Sunshine That Somehow Doesn't Do Well With Girls

Sweet Jane Masterlist (19-year-old Campbell Bain x 18-year-old Traumatized Reader)

Metacrisis Doctor/TenToo (My Headcanon is that he chose the surname "Noble")

Fourteenth Doctor - The Face That Returned, now arguably more Hyperactive and Traumatized

Alec Hardy (Broadchurch) - Grumpy and Broody Scottish Detective With a Heart Condition yet a Heart of Gold (Doesn't Know He's a DILF)

Emmet Carver (Gracepoint) - The American Version of Alec

Crowley (Good Omens) - A Hyperactive Drama Queen "Vaguely Sauntered Downward" Angel Turned Only Demon with an Imagination

Barty Crouch Junior - The (Possibly Bipolar) Misunderstood Boy Who Never Got His Father's Love and Was Manipulated By Voldemort (I think I read that he was actually a Ravenclaw but I do see a lot of Hufflepuff in him, his insistence of a fair fight and honesty and loyalty)

Peter Vincent (Fright Night) - Hyperactive Alcoholic Magician/Vampire Hunter with a Heart of Gold

Dave Tiler (Single Dad) — The sweetheart dad with too many children with so much love in his heart who fate was so cruel to.

Kilgrave (I've never seen Jessica Jones, I just feel like with him having the same accent and looks the same, it might ruin David Tennant's Doctor for me, and I love David Tennant as the Doctor.)

Cale Erendreich (Bad Samarian; Haven't Seen This Either)

--

Steve Harrington (Stranger Things) - The Hair; Nomenee for Mother of the Year

Embers In the Sky (Domnique "Nico" Henderson played Georgie Henley; Alex Henderson played by David Tennant)

Killer Queen (Cassandra "Cassie Dare" Henderson played by Zoey Deutch; Pan Henderson played by David Tennant)

Trauma (Emilie Henderson played by Hailee Steinfeld)

Devil Town (Imogen Henderson played by Katherine Langford)

Isaac Lahey (Teen Wolf) - The Abused Puppy With a Heart of Gold Who Only Wanted the Power to Defend Himself and To Not Be Scared

Embers in the Sky Season One (Milo Stilinski played by Katherine Langford)

Embers in the Sky Season Two

Embers in the Sky Season Three

Embers in the Sky Season Four

Embers in the Sky Season Five

Embers in the Sky Season Six

Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds) - The Genius Pretty Boy

Valentía (Zoe Noble-Valdez played by Selena Gomez)

Braveheart (OFC played by Karen Gillan)

Raymond Wadsworth

Chip Taylor

Kyle Orfman

Lesley Juniment-Smith

--

Fred Weasley

(All of these are Potter!sister!OCs, most of them are of Harry Potter's twin sister)

The Girl Who Lived (Sadie Sink as OC) (Need of a rewrite. Her name was Violet but since then my cousin had a baby daughter who he named Violet so I'm changing this character's name. I just can't write original characters with names of people I know. It's a rule of mine.)

North Star/Falling Star (Metamorphmagus!Cassiopea Potter played by Katherine Langford) (May change the name to Vega Potter)

The Twins Who Lived (Georgie Henley as Currently Unnamed OC)

Embers in the Sky (Emberly "Ember" Potter Played by Caitlin Blackwood/Karen Gillan) She is also the face claim I maintain of Lily Evans/Potter. (Caitlin Blackwood played young Amelia Pond in Doctor Who and is Karen Gillan's real life cousin.)

Yes, there are a lot of David Tennant characters. I don't want to write for the actor himself, I just feel a little creepy doing that. In my numerous Steve Harrington fics, the more recent ones (The OC is always Dustin's older sister, except in one) I think he is the best Doctor and I think he should officially be titled as the biggest Doctor Who Fan ever. (He became an actor because of Doctor Who, he says he thinks he underplays how much he loved Doctor Who, he became the first regenerated Doctor and the first one to last more than one season on the revived Doctor Who, he met his future father-in-law, like a year before he met his wife, Ty Tennant, Georgia's oldest son and David's now adopted son, in 2008, considered the Tenth to be his favorite, and hilariously, his grandfather was nowhere on the five-year-old's list--then David Tennant met Georgia (at the time) Moffat on the set of Doctor Who as she, the daughter of the Fifth Doctor, played the daughter of the Tenth Doctor, I heard that David Tennant met Ty on the set, and according the Peter Davidson, Georgia didn't even realize that he liked her when they started going out (apparently he was offended when she said she hadn't seen any Shakespeare), then David Tennant counts as the unofficial twelfth regeneration (there was the War Doctor who the Doctors deem as not worthy of having the name of the Doctor), then he adopted Ty Tennant and married Georgia; he returned for the 50th and 60th anniversary (and I hope he never stops returning), now is the Fourteenth Doctor, that's three official regenerations, and Good Omens is full of Doctor Who references. I don't think anyone can beat him for the biggest Doctor Who fan. His life like revolves around Doctor Who in a way that every fanboy/fangirl dreams of.

I have created an OC to be the Henderson!OC and Dustin's father and I always choose David Tennant, he just really gives off protective I-will-kill-anyone-who-hurts-you dad vibe and I have a soft spot for an overprotective dad for his daughter (I never had that. My dad wanted a boy--granted the disapproval that's implied is possibly because my mom told me this--and he is ADHD and was always sleeping and then he moved two towns over which was an hour's drive but seemed longer in my ADHD mind but so he could sleep and I could play video games on the Xbox that's memory wouldn't save the game so I continuously had to start over. Oh, and also, there's the fact that a TV fell on me when I was five/six because I didn't understand gravity and I locked myself in the dryer when I was seven/eight. What, is that not normal? 🙄) I'm not a big crier but a father that's willing to do anything for his daughter is your best bet. Sorry for this rant.

*(Can't pinpoint what house Alec Hardy and therefore Emmet Carver would be in, the only blog I've found on it, discussed how he may be a burnt Hufflepuff (just google it, it'll send you to the tumble immediately) but hiscusses his desperation in season two suggests Gryffindor, also implying his ignoring of his heart condition but he's aware that he has it, so he's gone to the hospital and he takes pills, he's just aware that the doctors told him that he may not survive his surgery to have the pacemaker put in and he feels like he owes it to the families to get the closure they deserve, so it doesn't strike me as impulsive but more dedicated, determined, and "unafraid of toil". Then the blog argues that his need to protect people he views as in his care and how he related to the Sandbrooke case as Slytherin but I don't see that. I think perhaps a "Burned Hufflepuff" is accurate.*

[batmannotes]

NATIONAL LAMPOON'S VACATION 4K RELEASE 

Way back in 1983, the now classic comedy, Vacation was released. The story follows Clark W. Griswold (Chevy Chase) as he embarks on a roadtrip with his kids (Anthony Michael Hall, Dana Barron) and wife (Beverly D'Angelo) in the "Family Truckster" from Chicago to the L.A. amusement park Walley World. Along the way, the Griswolds encounter out-of-control cars, an ill-tempered dog, a beautiful model (Christie Brinkley), and hillbilly cousin Eddie (Randy Quaid). Imogene Coca, and John Candy also star as Harold Ramis directs from a script by John Hughes.

VIDEO QUALITY 📽️ : A

If you grew up anywhere during the 80s you probably have seen this hilarious film, and most have viewed it more than once. The great news is that the film has never visually looked any better than on the newly released 4K Blu-Ray. Everything from the beautiful scenery on the Griswold's road trip to the simplicity of their flesh tones look amazing. I own the 30th Anniversary Edition on Blu-Ray and the upscale to 4K is very noticeable.    

AUDIO QUALITY 🔈 : C  

There's not a whole lot to say about the audio other than it's contains the English: DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Mono (48kHz, 24-bit) with options of both French and Spanish Dolby Digital 2.0 (192kbps). The dialogue sounds crisp and easy to understand. Sadly, the music, which consists of Lindsey Buckingham's "Holiday Road" does not include The Pointer Sisters' "I'm So Excited" (still being replaced by June Pointer's "Little Boy Sweet").

EXTRAS 📀 : C-

Except for the commentary (which includes the director, Harold Ramis; actors Chevy Chase, Randy Quaid, Anthony Michael Hall and Dana Barron; and Producer Matty Simmons) all the bonus features are only available streaming on the Movie Anywhere App. Each special feature has been available on previous releases. And although you're getting a digital copy of the film, which is nice, there is not a basic Blu-Ray copy included. 

FINAL GRADE: B+

Although the bonus features are pretty much limited to streaming on the Movies Anywhere app, the newly released transfer of National Lampoon's Vacation is dazzling and should satisfy even the pickiest viewer. It's a legendary comedy presented on the best possible format, and you can't ask for too much more than that. 

Available at Amazon. Direct link here.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Strange directions

warning : tiny angst

next chapter , masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It seemed after Hamish had spoken these words that even the air around them would stand still and everything was waiting for a discharge. Y/N also felt herself holding her breath in disbelief as she realized what was happening before her eyes.

Her cousin, who looked as if she would like to run away from it all, looked nervously back and forth between the man she definitely did not want and all the guests. Sometimes a few stammered words came out of her mouth, but they were incomprehensible to Y/N and the guests.

The Y/Hc-haired girl saw the rising nervousness in her cousin's brown eyes and was about to run to her to get her away when she felt the hand of her aunt Helen Kingsleigh on her wrist.

A glance at her aunt made it clear to Y/N that she herself was struggling for her sanity not to take her daughter away from the visibly unpleasant and almost sad moment. ,,If you go there now and take her away from saving our entire family, it will be worse for you and your aunt. It will be worse for you and your mother than ever before," came the whisper of her aunt, who leaned down slightly to whisper in her niece's ear.

Y/N stayed in place as quietly as she could at her aunt's behest and for her mother's life, but it also made her nervous to know how bad things could get. After what seemed like an eternity, something happened in front of the crowd Alice spoke something to Hamish before she broke free of his grip and fled into the maze of white roses.

Some indignant remarks and even curses were heard from the crowd behind Y/N and her mother and aunt. A glance at her second cousin Margaret revealed that she was disappointed but not surprised at her sister's behavior and instead went back to looking for her husband.

Her mother was also in her own world again and had already gone back to her place to wait for her prince. But Y/N herself was now standing in a crowd that was wildly discussing and didn't know what to do now.

She saw her aunt who was already being harassed by Lord and Lady Ascot but decided not to intervene because she didn't want to cause any more trouble. So the 20 year old decided that she could bring the coachman a piece of cake to give Alice time for herself and not to press her.

Arriving at the buffet, she was taken aback to find that a new strawberry cake had been served, but any cupcakes with red hearts were missing, which saddened her. A quick embrace of the heart still resting in the pocket of her dress made this go away as she had her personal one.

So she again slid a piece of cake onto the white porcelain plate and again took a silver fork that was decorated with gold like any other. Again armed with cake she started her little journey to the courtyard where the other carriages were standing and either the coachmen were asleep or passing the time by talking to each other.

However, it could be said that her carriage already stood out among the new and shiny ones because of its wear and tear.

Her coachman was still in the same position as she had left him, sleeping peacefully on the seat. She was about to say something when she heard a particularly loud snore from the coachman and decided to put the cake next to the man so that he could help himself when he woke up. 

As she started to walk back, she saw Hamish walking past her with his head red, not even noticing her and probably going to his beloved mansion to sulk. With a shake of her head she started her own way but was stopped by her older cousin, ,,How are you Y/N? We haven't seen each other in a long time, you look good, how is Aunt Imogene?" she showered the younger girl with questions. The Y/Ec-eyed girl knew that her cousin wasn't really interested and was only doing it because she was worried about her mother.

Not forgetting what would happen next and what consequences it would bring, Y/N played along. ,,Me and mother are doing very well, thank you for asking. You look as beautiful as ever yourself but tell me, did you see Alice coming out of the garden or is she still there?".

The girl smiled briefly flattered by the forced compliment before shaking her head and speaking in a regretful tone, ,,Unfortunately no my sister is probably still sulking and has succumbed to her musings." The other girl nodded her thanks to Margaret and went into the garden herself, which was her real destination.

As soon as she disappeared behind one of the rose hedges, she started sprinting as far as her dress would allow to lead her to Alice. She had seen her cousin run in here, but she didn't know where she was going in this maze, which made it difficult for her not to get lost herself.

So she turned the next best corner and circled hundreds of white roses until she came to a stop, panting. Just as she was about to lean against one of the tall green hedges and close her eyes, she saw her cousin's light blue dress waft around one of the hedges and disappear.

Immediately she was on her feet again and ran after the track she had seen. However, as she turned the corner she saw Alice running straight towards the adjacent forest which did not give her a good feeling. However, she didn't want to be among the boring people and her mother had the prince so she wouldn't be missed much.

So she decided to run after her Alice to calm her down and maybe do something together if she felt like it. No sooner said than done she left the estate behind her and also her family who concentrated only on the money and the existence. It took her a while to figure out where to step on the forest floor without falling, but she made it without fail and saw the blue dress again. Alice ran deeper into the forest and already seemed to disappear behind the big almost black looking trees.

So Y/N followed her as fast as she could, trying desperately not to lose sight of the blue fabric through all the undergrowth. So she took a last look at the blue dress before it disappeared in a big hole in an old big tree and left the silent forest behind. Only now Y/N actually noticed how silent and almost eerie the huge dark forest was and almost gave her goose bumps.

When she heard a crackling in the undergrowth behind her she jumped around but saw only a white rabbit. However, when she looked closer she saw a pocket watch in its paw and it was wearing a vest, it seemed surreal as if she had fallen down and was now dreaming or hallucinating.

Both Y/N and the rabbit looked at each other in confusion and uncertainty as if they were both checking to see if what they were experiencing was real. However, Y/N only became more confused when the rabbit began to speak, ,,Oh my goodness, it's way too late, I have to hurry. What if no one is waiting for her downstairs? I have to go," it spoke hastily before it hopped past Y/N and disappeared into the hole.

Now she was alone again, but her ignorance about what had just happened here did not diminish and it was almost like the many leaves that lay scattered and disordered around her. Slowly she approached the hole before she knelt down and looked down.

However, she encountered nothing but blackness and space. To make sure she was looking correctly, she blinked a few times before looking down again, and sure enough, she saw a room at the bottom of the hole. 

She bent a little further forward but when she felt the first lumps of earth and stones under her gave way and before she could rule she fell down the hole. However, to her renewed surprise, it was not dark in the hole, it was already almost cozy around her flew books, pocket watches and even the one or the other piano which made tinkling noises.

Although she heard only at the beginning of her scream which came quite automatically from her but close to her already a few minutes much and she had calmed down as far as it went she heard the ticking of clocks. She thought even in the distance of the entire room through which she heard a lot of trumpets and chatter.

But what worried her was that the lower room was getting closer and closer and she had nothing to break the fall. But before she feared to end up as a lump of mud downstairs, she felt herself stopping ungently on a bed before falling further.

The girl pulled her arms protectively in front of her face as the floor approached and feared that these were the last moments of her life. But when the floor broke open underneath her, she fell another few meters before landing with a thud on the floor of another room.

With a painful moan and groan, Y/N straightened up and knocked the dirt from her dress, which had been damaged here and there, when she broke through the ceiling. Y/N looked around the black and white tiled room and realized that she had no idea where she was.

Once she was aware of this, she set about examining the individual doors, which couldn't be more different. Some were huge while others were so small that even her hand wouldn't fit through them, but they were all made of solid wood that she couldn't break through.

Even jiggling the door handles did not bring anything except creaking and unnecessary waste of time. Although Y/N thought about trying to run into one of the doors to get it open, she didn't because she didn't want to hurt herself even more. Then paused for a moment, remembering the rabbit's words that someone was waiting for her. She doubted it was her, but apparently Alice had landed down here before her and made it out.

Suddenly the scales fell from her eyes and she saw a glass-bottomed table with a key on it that was no bigger than her finger and seemed almost too small. She now had a key but no suitable lock that would accept it. So she walked again around the round room and noticed a lightly curved cloth which, when she pushed it aside, revealed a small door.

She knelt down and inserted the small key into the lock turned it around and sure enough, to her relief, it opened. Y/N squinted her eyes as the bright light hit her from the other side and it was almost painfully bright.

Her head fit through, but the rest of her body was too big to have a chance to get through. So she crawled backwards into the room and straightened up before putting the key into the other pocket of her dress to avoid damaging the heart.

So now she was faced with a new task: to get through the small door without breaking any bones. Her gaze fell again on the table on which was a vial that had appeared out of nowhere.

With a raised eyebrow, she approached the table with a skeptical feeling before taking the bottle in her hand and reading the note. There was written Drink me on it, which did not surprise her less, since she had no idea if it was not poisonous. 

However, after a short consideration, she decided to do it anyway, because what choice did she have. After Y/N had drunk the first sip, she took another before dropping the bottle and breaking it with a clang. Y/N felt first dizzy and then sick and finally she felt small.

When she looked down at her, all air escaped from her lungs and she shrank, and not metaphorically. The dress which had nestled on her shoulder and had also seen better days fell down on her and let her sink into a sea of fabric.

At first she thought that she would be naked under her dress, but with a joyful realization she noticed that her undergarment was a bit loose on her body, but it had stayed with her.

The girl pulled on one or the other ribbon that was attached to the garment and pulled it tighter to her body so that it would not slip. When the girl realized that she was now small enough she marched towards the small door but stopped halfway when she realized that the key was still in the dress sea.

So she dived through the fabric before she discovered the now normal sized key in her hand and continued to search for the heart. She did not know why this was so important to her but the sweet heart had something about it that she liked as if it meant something to her deep in her heart.

Both the heart and the key disappeared into the pockets of the garment which, fortunately for her, had them. The way from her former dress to the small door seemed to take forever with her size. Nevertheless, she remained strong and continued on her way until she finally arrived at the now normal looking door.

The girl took out the key from her pocket, turned it in the lock and opened the door which again threw light on her. This time she was able to put her hand protectively in front of her face to avoid being blinded too much. When she took it down and the light had settled, she stopped in amazement.

Before her stretched a completely new and so crazy world as she had never seen it at most only in her dreams. It was absolutely magical, the flora and fauna looked completely different from England and the whole atmosphere was indescribable.

So the Y/Ec eyed girl started moving again and made the first steps into the unknown world which she decided to call Wonderland.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[nochi-quinn]

campaign 3 episode 38: dice burning party in the parking lot

let's see if I can stay awake this week! 8D

oh matt's gonna be the death of me

"the moment you've all been waiting for" don't speak for me

"my mutant superpower is not knowing what I'm doing" same

I genuinely cannot judge how good or bad matt's accent is, I don't think I've ever heard a good non-native version

excited to see how much of these costumes survive to the end of the episode

especially the gloves, those aren't lasting (or maybe I have second-hand sensory hell)

pike's voice with the gambit eyes sdlkfjsl

matt u should have oiled ur coat

"I'm pretty good at what I do" baking?

alright "what happens if laudna breaks away from delilah" betting pool get ready

I'm gonna cryyyyy

SAM

she does have a pretty good track record, doesn't she

YUP there went the visor off liam

aaand travis' mask

"you deserve to be more than a footnote in delilah's story"

sam

I would have prefered ashton but here we are

"and you loved imogen" sam with the shipper stick

I'm. not okay with this.

sam's characters have a running thread of mental manipulation and I've been cooling on fcg for a while bc of the Enforced Therapy aspect (I don't love the bonded character mechanic either) and just. hnrgh.

I wrote that before the nat 1, too, I just Dislike

[holds a knife on anyone trying to make a joke about laudna's holes]

yeah, LETTERS

ah hell

klsdjflsk

PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE

gonna fight matt in a parking lot

CRIES

bonus content for any jean/rogue shippers

vex: get fenthras'd, idiot

oh poor laudna she doesn't know any of these people :(

skdjfslkd trying to use the tablet with the gloves

chetney: GOD WOOD???

o. oh.

chetney

travis

PIKE

"you were just Dead"

you are not immune to vex'ahlia de rolo

percival

calm your SHIT percy jesus christ

lays in the floor

I see you wiping your face travis

TREE

would laudna have been one of the ones that thought percy abandoned them or was she too young to have Opinions

or would she have like. heard stuff from her parents. I know what I'm trying to say

"fight with obann" wrong campaign matt

"this gets to be real now" lays in the floor harder

she just starts whaling on the tree

crIES

this child for new party member

"there are kids who are never gonna know" I AM ALREADY CRYING YOU CAN STOP NOW

let laudna talk to the tree

THIS WORKS TOO

laudna 🤝 keyleth

tree aesthetic

I'm gonna stuff this man in a locker istg

I love her

A Keyleth Thing

keyleth is canonically their crunchy granola friend

group hug at the sun tree

chetney

sun tree: consent please

DO IT

orym: it's weird, none of us really understand

percy we will make you admit you love your friends if it kills all of us

percy: they're YOUR guests

laura and marisha are killing me

orym is likking me

FEARNE DO NOT PICKPOCKET THE CLERIC

they get chased out of whitestone and have to wait three in-game days to go back

…I just remembered Pike's cousins, this is not new to her

fcg has a flesh nose now

YESSS I was hoping for this

YEAH YEAH HELL YEAH

YEAH YEAH YEAH

permapate

"exposure therapy" dsklfjs

the newly refurbished chamber that was once Briarwood

why do I feel like we just heard part of every pitch meeting travis and sam had with the cartoon

percy shut the fuck up you never liked any of them

DOTYYYYYY

doty my beloved

MAKE LITTLE MISTER A GUN

a 21 HAS to do it

"this is how planet of the apes started"

scattershit

manners my beloved

fond flashbacks to dariax rubbing it on his gums

I just keep being distracted by how fking pretty laura is

where's scanlan, get your ioun ass in here

SAM

the pleather claps sdklfjs

okay look this is a very niche intersection of my interests but I'm picturing percy rolling up to the cerberus assembly like old bruce in batman beyond when he was getting his company back from derek powers

"how are you holding up?" "with a cane."

one shot that's just sam being tary and fcg

no dm only torment

scanlan shows up too

ashton

no one hates percy more than taliesin

"I just feel bad for him"

"thank you never mind go to bed"

chetNEY

oh I'm gonna CRY

I know a full Vox Machina Plot Rundown is impractical but part of me wants them to explain things to laudna

WAIT

IS IT

CRIES FOREVER???

f e a r n e

"get down here" "nO-"

"I start to give him a noogie but it hurts"

I love these fucking dorks so fucking much

they all react to the lights every time, I love it

I just noticed sam has veth's tattoo drawn on

57 things caught fire during break, I just got back

everybody's coats and gloves are off but liam's visor is back on

"we're on the moon, bitch"

wait until they find out what keyleth did UNDER the sun tree

do iiiiit

gay

oh there goes the visor again

Lady Laudna

"are you really doing this"

MCCOUGHNATREE LET'S GO

that voice + matt's getup is. something.

fearne: come here often?

trAVIS

"when they put up a new moon"

sun tree consent CANON

"I mean not the LORD" fuck you sam I was drinking soup

FUCK YOU MATT

LIKE JUST IN GENERAL

quick bring dorian back and install him in eshteross' place

NOT THAT HE'S DEAD

WE DON'T KNOW HE COULD JUST BE A SLOW START IN THE MORNING

"my face can't move!"

sdklfjsl matt flicking a card at sam

HORSE

"if you wind it the wrong way it DOES explode"

whats-his-face de rolo

laura fully distracted by the horse (valid)

OH YEAH rip podcast listeners

GILMORE?

fcg fuck off I want to see gilmore

taliesin's latent percy ego

do I get to hear matt gilmore again???

"I wasn't gonna let this not happen" thank you for your service taliesin

;-;

dangit I thought it was at least the husband

no I want a shopping episode

"shaun or nothin"

there's a WHOLE HOUR left what in hell

not the full name dlkfjsl

MATT

"what if he gets hurt?" "I can bring him back!" "no, don't!"

chetney phases through the door

matt

matthew

why blood odd

something something tf2 dead ringer

I need a tweest

what is the tweest

FINALLY

THIS BITCH

don't squish him!!

"how bad can it be" sunken tomb

"it opens" "and I die"

don't read that man's mail

(I know they're gonna have to read the mail)

;-;

TRAVIS

SIR

taliesin: hide that shit right now

BODEH

I feel like this is the least respectful major NPC death ever

thank you for ignoring the button travis

NOW get dorian

at least TELL dorian

[sabbyvincent]

New Character OC:

SERIES: Degrassi

ROSALINA “ROSE“ DEL ROSSI

Love interests: MILES HOLLINGSWORTH II, ZIGMUND “ZIG” NOVAK

Friends: Imogen Moreno, Grace Cardinal, Tiny Bell, Winston Chu, the art club kids

Relatives: Marco Del Rossi (Cousin), Gabriela “Gabi” Del Rossi, (Sister), Matteo, “Matt” Del Rossi, Louisa Del Rossi (Aunt), Dominico “Dom” Del Rossi (Uncle), Lorenzo Del Rossi (Father), Amalia Del Rossi (Mother)

Birthday: February 19th, 1998

Star sign: Pisces

Nicknames: Rose, Princess, cocca di mama (Mommy’s sweetheart)

Personality: Sensitive, soft-hearted, and introverted

Likes: The Outsiders, Sunflowers, Cats, Horses, helping others, The Neighborhood, 5 Seconds of Summer, Gelato, Strawberries,

Pets: A Yorkie named Romeo, she feeds three outside cats that loiter in the alleyway behind her job, I headcanon her uncle is severely allergic to cats and sadly cannot adopt them, so she tends to them at the floral shop

Dislikes: Zoe Rivas, gang violence, fighting, abuse, Ketchup chips, seeing people struggle

Hobbies: Art, painting, writing stories, floristry, baking, playing the piano

Languages: Italian, English

Backstory:

Rose grew up in Naples, Italy with her younger brother, Matteo “Matt” and elder sister Gabriela “Gabi”when Rose was merely fifteen years old, she lost her mother due to breast cancer. Their father, Lorenzo Del Rossi, a traveling business consultant, isn’t consistent in their children’s lives. So, after their mother’s passing, he sends Rose and her siblings to live with her aunt and uncle in Toronto, Canada. Her cousin is Marco Del Rossi, who’s become an English professor at University of Toronto.

She later attends Degrassi community school.

Rosalina helps out part time at her aunt’s floral shop in town, Louisa’s, a couple businesses down from Novak’s Convenience Store.

It’s her third week of work (and summer vacation), she encounters a lonely boy clad in black and leather during a thunderstorm. Straddled at his side is a dark green duffel bag. He smells like he hasn’t showered in a while, and from the looks of it his weight is damn near a pile of bones. Rose, remembering her lunch, ( leftover dinner from the previous night), heats up her lunch and gives it to the boy outside. Initially a little eerie around her, he accepts her generosity and gratefully eats the food.

The next day she sees him again in the same spot.

It’s blazing outside, he is sweating off a storm. Pitying him yet again, Rose gives him a cold bottle of water. Seeing this girl yet again, they formally introduce each other. She learns that his name is Zig Novak and that his parents own the convenience store by the floral shop. He is quick to discover her family owns the florist shop. She asks about the duffel bag, but for the sake of his own safety (as well as hers), he refuses to answer any more of her questions.

Another day later, Rose looks for him at the post, but is disheartened when she doesn’t find him there. With her little brother at NASA Camp, Gabi preparing for college, and her aunt and uncle away on a mini vacation, she was thrilled to have found someone to talk to. She decides to leave a note along with some food again there in hopes of him coming back.

Meanwhile, one of her first clients by the name of Hollingsworth, meticulously puts in an order for blue and white bouquets for a Mayoral Campaign Party. Through her aunt, she learns that the Hollingsworth practically reigns of royalty due to Miles Hollingsworth II’s success in politics and business. A part of Rose’s job consists of her having to deliver floral arrangements on her bicycle. She delivers the bouquets and is entranced by the Hollingsworth mansion– it’s nothing like she’s ever seen before. While delivering the bouquets, she meets Miles Hollingsworth the III: the eldest, rebellious son of the mayor. Since Diana Hollingsworth is sponsoring Aunt Louisa’s floral shop, Miles shows Rose around the mansion. She also encounters Winston Chu, Miles’ best compadre.

While hanging out at the Hollingsworth palace, Rose humiliates herself by dropping a bottle of whiskey off a balcony, disrupting Miles’ father’s campaign speech. The little confrontation is enough to agitate him, as a result he goes off on his son. Angered by his father’s lament towards him, Miles rebels and cannonballs into the pool. Rose, ashamed of herself for causing unnecessary chaos for a family she’s barely met, retrieves a towel from the pool house for Miles. Their last encounter, Rose goes home, discovering her note and food for Zig has vanished.

For the rest of the summer, she supplies Zig with food, but still has yet to see him. It isn’t until she starts her first year at Degrassi, she crosses paths with him again as well as Miles. Throughout the course of the school year, she attracts new friends and even an arch rival, Zoe Rivas, the ex star off the hit series West Drive. Due to an incensed argument between the two girls, Rose is unfairly sent to the remedial class, coined as the “rubber room”, where she finally encounters the Novak boy again. Only this time, he’s hostile and blunt in their interactions together.

While spending some time with Miles, a relationship blossoms between the two, cultivating Zoe’s animosity towards Rose. Eventually, while caravanning upon her own self discovery, she finds out Zig is homeless. Albeit, the two don’t have as much of a history, she finds herself immensely caring for the leather clad Novak and offers him a place to stay. (With her aunt and uncle’s consent, of course.)

Living at the Del Rossi residence garners a whole lot of problems for Rose, specifically being hung up between two boys. Raveled in a love triangle, Rose is forced to choose between Miles and Zig, but a fateful decision could hurt the other.

Other random facts about your OC:

This is actually canon in the Degrassi verse, Louisa was actually a piano teacher. She taught Rose how to play the piano.

She loved reading The Outsiders, and sees every bit of Dallas Winston in Zig Novak, that’s why he’s her favorite greaser.

On her mother’s side, her aunt owned a farm in Naples who owned a bunch of Tolfetanos (Italian horse breed). As a little girl she’d visit them and loved drawing them.

Fun fact: Rosalina actually means gentle horse.

She enjoys painting the most when it comes to art.

She was closest to her mom and it breaks her heart every day she can no longer spend time with her.

She finds Tristan Milligan annoying. Self centered little shit.

Her aesthetics are floral print dresses and the color yellow.

Her favorite thing to bake is Ricotta cookies.

Absolutely loves Zig’s cooking.

She is extremely close to Marco, he’s practically adopted his cousins as his younger siblings. When he got married to Jeremiah (another OC) she was so happy for him. A match made in heaven.

The reason why sunflowers are her favorite flowers are because it reminds her of her mom who had grown an entire sunflower garden in her backyard. She also grew roses hence the name Rose.

Her dad doesn’t want anything to do with her and to an extent it hurts her soul but has gotten used to it.

Her ship name with Zig is the cutest thing ever. Rosemund ❤️

“You gotta go extra Miles for Rose.”

OC belongs to AshleeKayWrites on Wattpad

[r0mc0m]

JULIETA our beautiful and talented vocalist and guitarist! It’s freshman year when she puts up a bunch of posters (that she drew herself) around school ... around town too, just in case ... because she really wanted to start a band once she got the hang of guitar and had even started writing some silly little songs. She was like, a third of the way there!

CARLOS - he’s on bass! He was the first to respond, actually, almost instantly. They had a few classes together and he didn’t know a better way to talk to her. (He just thought she seemed super cool, but she also always seemed too busy for him to find an actual opening to step in and befriend her.) Besides, he, too, was itching to start a band, and all of his attempts fell completely flat. He’s embarrassed by all those failures, will deny the existence of those bands vehemently no matter how much evidence you think you have of them. This band is the best one he could have possibly ended up in and is the only one he will ever acknowledge ty xx. (Aim for Therapy, Dumbster, and Floor Gremlins are the old bands. He had been hopping from one failed band to the other between the summer of 7th grade up until responding to Julie’s adorable “Wanted : bass player and drummer!” ad poster.)

IMOGEN - she’s on drums! She was apprehensive about it because she still thought she was going to start a band with her cousin, Paris, but Paris very much dropped that whole thing because of some weird shit that was happening with his best friend. She was lowkey relieved --- she did not like Paris’ best friend, and hadn’t fully thought through the concept of pushing her hate aside to make it work as a band. She likes Julie and Carlos a lot more, thinks she might have ended up hating making music if she had wound up with Paris and Ingrid.

[queenscharacters]

“Can you make it home next weekend? I’ve got some news I want to tell the whole family.” Ambrose to Killian

Killian wasn’t sure if Ambrose realized he was on speakerphone right now, but he did say at the start of the call he was with Imogen. They had another stupid party to be getting ready for. The only upside of these events was how the two of them would celebrate leaving them. He arched an eyebrow, asking his “wife” the silent question. After all, she was in control of their schedules.

She gave him a knowing look, rolled her eyes, then gave him a thumbs up. “Yeah, we’ll be there.” He confirmed, already grinning at the idea of being home. It wasn’t logical to go there often, but he definitely missed his family and wouldn’t mind seeing them. He didn’t even think about how this invitation could be extended to only him, but he wasn’t corrected by anyone, so it never dawned on him.

“Wanna tell me what’s up? Does this have anything to do with your weird behavior lately?” He inquired, taking the phone with him as he crossed the room to Imogen. She’d been giving him a pointed look for more than one reason. Maybe he was putting his foot in his mouth, maybe she was getting impatient. He zipped her dress up, intentionally running his hands up her back, then fastened her necklace of choice.

He didn’t realize that he was nervous until she squeezed his shoulder, giving him his signature kiss there. “At least tell me you’re alright. You’ve been making me a little nervous lately, man.” Killian forced out a chuckle that his cousin would clearly see through. “Please don’t make me have to kick your ass when I see you in a couple of days.”

[jaronxlordashcombe]

I had a Thought

you know Imogen and Jaron are cousins and Jaron already technically proposed to Roden? Well I think his relationship with Roden should be real because (no offense) COUSINS SHOULD NOT MARRY COUSINS.

I think since Roden and Jaron aren't related at all they should be together because then it would be less like 'Umm...did these two people who are cousins...LIKE JUST MARRY' (the reason I keep coming back to this is because I think it is a little mess up)

(A LOT MESSED UP)

Anyway what would also be fine is if he just stuck with Amirinda and they got married and like all that stuff. Or Tobias! I think JaronxTobias is way to underrated. Like that would be a good ship.

My main two reasons are:

Jaron already proposed to Roden.

I don't like Imogen

3. BUT SERIOUSLY COUSINS MARRYING??!!?

sorry I just went on my usual rant about how I don't like JaronxImogen and love JaronxRoden

You know what would also be good Percy Jackson x Jaron Eckbert