#imogen my beloved <3

[noelwho]

“Will you be an anarchist with me?”

[shadydruid]

Happy New Year! 🎄🌸

[starpixiie]

Started catching up on c3 again and wanted to try figuring out how to draw the gang :)

It’s just Imogen and Orym for now bc I have other stuff to do unfortunately, but I’d like to draw the whole party if I can

[cringefail-clown]

ocs be upon ye

[greenteaandtattoos]

Laudna trying to connect to the Moonweaver, goddess of Catha, while Imogen is still connected to Ruidus and Predathos...

big moon, little moon.

[mommymilkersmac-n-cheese]

Can’t wait for the fics about the group actually noticing Ashton’s panic attack. Craving that sweet sweet Ashton angst hurt/comfort chronic pain oml.

[mushyroommm]

me when imodna

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Using only lyrics from music, convey the dreams of each of your oc’s

You said OC’s, so in addition to the Until I Found bois (which I’m not so sure count as original characters so much as re-envisioned versions of the characters) I’ll also be doing songs for my babies from The Future and a Robot

UIFY

Leon: "But I have a plan... and I will be remembered -- I will be great -- Just wait and see! You'd better wise up, 'cuz I'll rise up! BRING ON ANY CHALLENGE! And someday soon, I swear -- I don't know how or when -- but I promise you, I'll never be invisible again! Someone will notice... me."

‘Phael: "I can't be what you expect of me... and I'm not what I seem... but I would love to know you --! Is it dangerous... to dream??"

DvD: "I will make you proud! I will make you have faith in me. I will prove that the way I used to be is all in the past. I will save the day, and come back here triumphantly! 'Cause I long for that look of surprise when you see your son rising at last! The pride in your eyes when you see your son rising at last!!"

Michael: "Just let me give you the freedom to dream and it'll wake you up, cure your aching, take your walls and start 'em breaking -- now that's a deal that seems worth taking! ...But I guess, I'll leave that up to you."

April: "One normal night, that's all I want, that's all I need from you. One normal house without a mouse to feed a plant or two!”

Karai: "As a child you would wait and watch from far away, but you always knew that you'd be the one that worked while they all played. In youth, you'd lay awake at night and scheme of all the things that you would change, but it was just a dream... Here we are, don't turn away now - we are the warriors that built this town!"

Draxum: “The rule of the land, it's so crucial to obey… Believe in yourself, or you won't be appreciated -- Don’t you overthink it, JUST DO WHAT I SAY!! Lay the politics out before me, whatever it takes to get my glory!”

Big Mama: “Money, money matters most! Money, money I can boast -- Money, money, make a toast to -- Money! Money! Money!” OR "Come live with us in the garden… there’s a room waiting for you… come on, come on, come on! Just let us adore you…”

-----------------------------------------------

TFaaR

Lloyd: “So now I'll sing for you 'til I can't talk! I've been teaching myself to speak for when the music's not enough. I'm gonna be just like you and never stop, mm-mm. But since I'm made from you, do you think I could be someone like you?"

Julia: "And when I find my hope Imma bring it on home!”

Harris: "I don’t know when… I don’t know how… but I know something’s starting right now! Watch and you’ll see, someday I’ll be part of your world!”

Imogen Love: “What good’s a dreamer without a believer? We all just need someone to care! One who might listen and root for our wishes, someone to simply be glad that we’re there — what good’s a hand if nobody needs holding? When everything else falls away… if no one believes her, what good’s a dreamer, anyway?”

Ms. Delilah Emelyn: “One way, or another, I’m gonna find ya -- I’m gonna getchya, getchya, getchya!”

Dr. Alger J: “Can't wait to meet you! So join the animatronic family! We open real soon; try your best to hold onto sanity.”

If you can guess the songs the lyrics are from, you get 10 points

[thessiastars]

Thinking bout imogen

[plantskiddo]

“a hell of a ride”

[chokherbalii]

the best thing i love about heartstopper series is alice oseman's idea to creat imogen. cause we see in the books how nick says to charlie that he doesn't really have any good friends. but in the series he has imogen, and i also really love her character development omg. like she's actually a great person and nick's one and only actual good friend. sometimes a person needs someone else than a parent or a partner to talk to and im glad for nick it'll will be imogen in the upcoming seasons <3

[tickle-bugs]

Ooooh ok yes I'm SO SO GLAD you love these two gorls as much as me!! As for a line of dialogue, I think it'd be real cute with Fearne like "can you *feel* me getting tickled?" to Imogen after she's gotten wrecked a bit!!

this is one of my favorite prompts I've ever recieved. hope i did it justice!!!

Summon Fey, 300gp

Imogen prides herself on control. She maintains her walls well, builds them higher when needed, and knows precisely when the risk of lowering her guard is worth it. But recently…lowering her guard has been nice. Not advisable or conducive to focus, but nice. Like the smell of a nice candle or the feel of a soft blanket, the distinct impressions of her friends’ minds are always hovering near. 

“Imogen!” Her name has a mental sound with each of them. Laudna’s is a musical trill, like a bird. Ashton’s is rough but warm, with some semblance of a rumble. Orym is a breeze. Fearne is…well. Fearne is a lot of things, but right now she’s giggling. It’s a sweet, intoxicating sound, one that swirls through Imogen’s brain like watercolors. 

“S-Save me!” Fearne squeals, curling reflexively and melting into her bedroll. Ashton isn’t letting her escape, it seems, intent on punishing her for something or other. She’s got something curled tight in her hands, but a cursory scan of her mind reveals only chaos. 

Ashton and tickling weren’t words Imogen would have put anywhere near each other before recently, but they’ve proven to be quite the menace when they want to be.

“It looks like you’ve got that handled, Fearne,” Imogen snickers, turning back to her book. After a few more seconds, Ashton lets up. Fearne clops over, taking out the good reading light with her shadow. 

“Imogen?” Fearne tilts her head. “Would you try something with me?”

“Uhm, depends on what we’re talkin’ about?” Imogen looks up.

“Just an experiment involving your--” Fearne waves her hands around her head and makes a ‘woo-woo’ sound. Imogen stifles a snort. 

“If you tell me what we’re doin’, then sure. We’ve got a bit of time to kill.” Imogen shuts her book and stows it with the rest of her belongings. 

“Oooh, that’s the thing. It will be so much more fun if it’s a surprise.” Fearne rocks on her hooves, her dress swaying around her. Imogen bites her lip. She trusts Fearne. She doesn’t, but she does. Fearne would lay down her life for her, as would any of them, but Fearne would also nick things she shouldn’t from any open pockets. 

Fearne suddenly drops to sit next to Imogen, her dress poofing up around her. A circle of small wildflowers blooms around her. 

“I would never lead you astray,” Fearne says seriously, taking Imogen’s hand in her own. “Not on purpose.”

Imogen regards her for a while, considers the low hum of others’ thoughts in her mind. Today’s a good day. Not much internal noise, just the noise she’s come to grow used to. It would be nice to preserve that--quiet is a rare privilege, after all. But Fearne is…very persuasive in her suggestive leaning and fluttering lashes. 

“Fine. But only for a couple minutes.” Imogen sighs, closing her eyes. Fearne’s mind bubbles up against her own, jubilant and warm. Imogen presses further and they both shiver. Like a hook catching, they link, and thoughts pass from Fearne to Imogen easy as a sigh. Not the other way around, those walls rarely come down, but this…this will do. Enough to entertain a Fey. 

Fearne beams.

“Of course. Juuust a couple of minutes.” Fearne pats Imogen’s hand. Mischief flares off of Fearne, circling the two of them. Imogen’s lips twitch in amusement. 

“I can feel you scheming.” Imogen quirks an eyebrow. Fearne heaves a great big offended sigh, but love floods between them like sunbeams. 

“I’ve never done anything wrong in my life,” Fearne hums, taking out a red coin purse and rifling through it. Imogen furrows her brow. Fearne’s coin purse is a velvety green, not red--

“Where the fuck is my--Fearne!” Ashton’s voice carries easily and so does their fondness. Fearne giggles and winks conspiratorially at Imogen before hiding the coin purse among her things. By the time Ashton stomps over, Fearne’s reclined against the flowers like the subject of a romantic painting. 

“You’re somethin’ else, y’know that? Where’s my fuckin’ gold?” Ashton puts their hands on their hips. 

“I dunno, where’d you leave it?” Fearne blinks at them innocently. They stare at each other intently. Fearne’s poker face is excellent, but her mind is doing grabby hands at Ashton. Imogen bites her lip to hide her smile. 

Ashton unceremoniously drops into Fearne’s lap and starts tickling anywhere he can reach. Fearne squeals, a great resounding yes! Ricocheting through her mind and into Imogen’s. Fearne dissolves into airy giggles, grabbing at everything in reach except Ashton. 

“C-Can you--Ahashton, wait--can you feel me getting tickled, Imogen?”

Imogen’s a little more focused on trying not to explode. She’s curled into herself as far as she can, eyes winched shut with effort. The more she thinks about the crawling little sparks bursting all across her torso, the more she feels the warm, solid weight of Ashton’s hands where they shouldn’t be. She tries not to think about it, but Fearne’s thoughts only seem to get louder. 

“Well, that’s interesting.” Ashton grins, pinching experimentally at Fearne’s side. Imogen jolts with a squeak. She glares at Ashton. They grin back.

“Alright, Fearne. You’ve had your fun--” Imogen huffs, starting to reel her mind back in. 

Ticklish starbursts flare along Imogen’s sides and she crumples. It’s not even--she’s not that ticklish, not really, but if Fearne thinks it tickles, then it becomes her reality. Fearne’s so tactile, too. Most of her thoughts are a jumbled mess, but she’s incredibly hyperfixated on sensation. When Ashton pokes or scribbles just so, it echoes through Fearne’s mind in a silly little feedback loop, even after he’s stopped. 

Imogen has half a mind to accuse Fearne of thinking this way on purpose, making it worse like the sneaky Fey she is, but a garbled stream of ‘please’ and ‘tickles’ immediately disprove that theory. Soon, it’s hard to determine whose thoughts are whose amid the tumbling giddy panic from both of them. 

Imogen has a terrifying realization about the power Fearne could wield with merely her thoughts. She thanks her lucky stars that this connection doesn’t go both ways.

Ashton’s hands get under Fearne’s arms and Imogen shouts, her laughter finally breaking free of her control. She flops around in the grass and downright cackles, clamping her arms tightly to her sides.  She can feel the solid weight of their hands playing with her top rib. The gentle grating of sun-warm stone is absolutely insufferable.

“You okay over there, Blue?”

Oh, fuck them. She’s not even blue anymore.

“I know you’re not blue, dumbass.” Ashton chuckles, then their gaze snaps down to the Fey attempting to squirm away. “Stop moving.” 

Imogen feels Fearne go breathless. And smirk.

“Fearne, don’t you dare!” Imogen shouts at her, clutching an arm to her torso. Fearne turns towards her, her hair cascading in pretty waves, and winks. 

“Make me.” Fearne crosses her arms behind her head. Ashton smirks. They hover their fingers just above Fearne’s armpits, making her shiver with anticipatory giggles she doesn’t bother to hide. 

Imogen catches the quiet mental ‘gotcha’ just a bit too late.

Ashton grips Fearne’s thigh and starts squeezing into the muscle. Fearne and Imogen shriek at equal volume, sending birds scattering out of the trees a little ways away. Fearne jackknifes into Ashton and wiggles from side to side, curled into their shoulder. Imogen drums her fists and heels into the ground. She’s already ticklish there, she doesn’t need help being ticklish there--

“Aw, fuck. Don’t die over there.” Ashton laughs, switching to doing this infuriating little pinchy thing all along Fearne’s stomach. Imogen screeches in harmony with Fearne. Apparently Fearne really likes this, despite the frantic little zings of ‘bad spot’ zipping through her mind, because she keeps thinking about it. Even as it happens. Imogen tries to get her bearings enough to communicate with Ashton, or maybe just beg for her life, but everything’s a bit staticky.

Tickles! Is what she manages in their general direction, wheezing up a storm. Through blurry eyes, she sees Ashton physically double over for a second. She mourns not hearing their laugh, but the little indignant huff sent mentally her way is more than enough. 

“You’re contagious. Good to know.” Ashton narrows his eyes in Imogen’s direction, tickling up Fearne’s sides instead. Imogen would heave a sigh of relief, but she can hardly breathe for laughing.

“Aww. You should laugh more.” Fearne’s voice drifts through Imogen’s brain. If she could remember which way was up, she’d point an accusatory finger. She instead settles for hurling a flustered mass of feeling back towards Fearne. Ashton pinches right at the curve of her waist and Imogen, regrettably, snorts.

“A-Ashton, do that again!” Fearne giggles brightly. 

“You are in no position to be making demands.” Yet they do as they’re told, mysteriously, hooking their fingers right into where Fearne is soft and solid. Another snort tumbles out of Imogen, then another. She can feel Fearne’s amusement lingering around the corners of her brain, like a child eavesdropping on an adjacent room.

“Cute.” Like a kiss to the forehead, it blooms in her mind. Imogen’s face burns. 

Imogen feels Laudna before she sees her, as always, her presence clear among the fuzzy collision of minds. She blinks her big eyes down at Imogen before collapsing into the grass like a puppet free of strings. 

“Imogen? Oh--” She scoops Imogen’s head into her lap. Imogen turns towards Laudna’s stomach to hide, but she tuts and turns her back. 

“I never knew you were this ticklish.” Laudna turns her head a little too far to the side to observe. Imogen makes a high-pitched noise and waves her hands around. Laudna grins and pokes her, just once. 

“I’m nohot!” Imogen buries her face in her hands again. Fearne giggles as if her life depends on it, but she does it in her head too. It would be exceptionally adorable if Imogen wasn’t wracked with those very same giggles, intent on dissolving into the earth.

“Imogen.” Laudna says her name like a prayer. “Look.”

Imogen peeks through her fingers. Around her, stones and leaves and flower petals float in lazy patterns. When she shivers her way through another laugh, so do they. She hides again with a squeak. 

“You really are incredible.” Laudna beams. Imogen whines and curls up more. Laudna laughs at her, carding spindly fingers through her hair. Hiccups start to pepper her laughter as she finds her limit. 

As Laudna holds her, Imogen finds herself once again. The walls come back up. Looking over at Fearne, though, still giggling in the grass, her heart flutters. Orym’s looming over her with more mischief than Imogen’s ever really seen from him. Without even meaning to she feels the giddy flare of playfulness that rockets off of Fearne.

“Did you have fun?” Laudna curls a lock of Imogen’s hair around her finger. Imogen squints up at her. She’s tired in her bones, in her brain, but she’s buzzing. It’s nice. 

“Yeah. I think I did.” Imogen grins, reaching up to tweak Laudna’s nose. Laudna skitters her fingers under the straps of her utility holster, hooking ever-so-gently into her stomach, and Imogen snickers. 

“T-These guys are rubbing off on you,” Imogen chides. Her nose scrunches as she giggles, fighting the urge to once again hide in her hands. Her entire being shivers, but she doesn’t resist.  

“They are. But I could say the same for you.” Laudna brushes her hand against Imogen’s cheek with a smile. Imogen allows herself to come apart at the seams in Laudna’s loving hands.

[bloodsoaked-rainbows]

for the character bingo - how ‘bout imogen and/or literally any soc character? - @lavender-temult

imogen mah GIRL:

she's just so perfect <3

and for the soc character, I could hardly pick just one, so I went with Kuwei, but I honestly wanna do it for all the rest of 'em so I may do that later 😂

DOUBLE BINGO for my boi!! Idk if my opinions are popular or not, I just feel like I like him more than the average fan

(Send me a character(s) to fill out a bingo for!!)

[ratinayellowbandana]

For the prompt thing: Orange 4, or November 17/29?

hi! i sort of took all three and combined them into one with a couple minor changes. thank you so much for suggesting these! I had a lot of fun & I hope you enjoy :)

length: ~700 words

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

~~~

Warm sunlight filters through mismatched drapes. One hangs a bit crooked on its mounted branch. A handful of secondhand nails tack the ends to the wall. The orange tartan pattern clashes a bit with the pale green florals of its counterpart, but both somehow fit in this strange liminal space Imogen has come to know as Laudna’s home. 

They’re a ways into the forest at this point, and Imogen is impressed that Laudna even managed to find this spot in the first place. 

The woman herself bustles around excitedly, hastily tidying the living area and straightening a plush, velvety throw pillow. Imogen gets the impression she really wasn’t expecting guests. 

“...and that is why I’ve been banned from the brothel,” Laudna is saying, and Imogen startles back to the conversation.

“Wait, what?” 

Laudna waves her hand. “They had so many! I figured they would hardly miss one–”

“...people?”

“Pillows,” Laudna corrects, “You could hardly fit on the bed. I swear, I could have crawled in and never come out.” 

“Right.” Imogen nods, still a bit perplexed but more occupied by taking in the details of the room. 

A garland of woven flowers curls around the corners and lines the space where the walls meet the ceiling. The plants are long dead and wilted, but they match the rest of the decor perfectly. 

“That took me three days.” Laudna nods approvingly at her work, noticing where Imogen’s gaze has landed. “I suppose it was a bit more, ah, colorful when it was fresh, but I’m rather fond of it all the same.” She resumes her whirlwind, reaching for a metal rod of some sort–it almost looks as if it could be a mangled dagger–to nudge the embers of her hearth back to life. “Tea? I’m afraid it’s all I have at the moment, but I made the blend myself.” A note of pride colors her voice. 

Imogen was brought up with manners, and it’s those manners that keep her from mentioning the stifling summer heat. Tea is not necessarily her drink of choice on a day like today, but she can hardly say no. Not when Laudna is looking at her so earnestly, anxious fingers clearly searching for something to do. 

“Sounds like a dream,” Imogen smiles sincerely. 

“It’s truly the least I can do,” Laudna says, “You saved my life, after all.” 

Imogen’s already heat-flushed face colors further thinking about the incident. Her stomach turns. She hadn’t exactly meant to do anything. She was attuned to the thoughts around her and saw the attack coming a mile away, and then it just…happened. She hadn’t thought about it, only acted. And acting, she learned, meant accidentally felling three grown men with a lightning bolt she didn’t know she could summon. She rubs her palms self-consciously, recalling the sting of electricity. 

“There we are.” Laudna sets two cups on a chopped log she’s been using as a dining table. The edges have been rounded, and the top sanded to a smooth finish. It’s rather remarkable, really, what Laudna has managed to accomplish. 

Imogen tells her so, and Laudna beams. 

“Ah!” She exclaims, “I nearly forgot. Close your eyes; don’t look down.” She stands and scurries back to the shelf housing her assorted ingredients. After listening to her rummage for a moment, Imogen hears her set something on the table. “Alright,” Laudna says, satisfied, “now you can look.” 

A small clay pot sits at the center of the log with a chip taken out of the rim and a stick poking out the top. 

“Honey,” Laudna states gleefully. “I adore a bit with my tea, but the bees get rather angry when you disrupt them, you see, so I rarely find myself in possession. But this is a special occasion, of course.” Her face falls. “I should have asked if you take honey with your tea. Or sugar?”

Imogen cuts her off. “This is lovely,” she promises.

Laudna seems to relax at that.  

“So,” Imogen starts, sipping her tea, “tell me more about how you ended up stealin’ pillows from a brothel?”

[swashbucklery]

Imogen breathes a sigh of relief, ducks her head under the covers and looks at her hands, the lilac crackles that trace across her palms, up her wrists. She keeps her gloves under her pillow these days, always ready. She puts them on: magic can't glow through leather.

Not yet, anyway, a treacherous part of her mind whispers.

(How Imogen and Laudna meet. Spoilers through the end of C3E48.)

[uhtcearemorning]

Imogen gave Laudna a RING

That’s a thing good platonic friends do totally not super gay at all