#remembering when she was asked to be the one to take imogen out and all fearne knew was that she couldn’t

[socallmedaisy]

Laudna starts to lean into her side at the table as the shadows lengthen and the Spire by Fire empties of customers for the night. 

It’s happened hundreds of times before, when Laudna has been tired, but Imogen is hyper aware, now, of the way Laudna’s pinky finger is pressed against Imogen’s thigh where she has her hand on the bench between them, how occasionally Laudna catches her eye and the corner of her mouth quirks up into a secret smile just for her, how they’d told Zhudanna they’d come back to her house for the night.

Ashton and Letters have started up again, about faith and the gods and a million other things Imogen can’t think about right now, because her brain got stuck, hours ago, on the feel of Laudna’s lips against her own.

She lifts a hand to press her fingers against her lips, remembering. Orym catches her eye and she pretends she's stifling a yawn instead. “Maybe we could pick this up in the morning,” he says, cutting across FCG. “The existential questions won’t go away. We should get some rest.”

Laudna nods and Imogen feels Laudna’s hair against her shoulder before Laudna stands up, and then turns to offer her hand to Imogen. It makes something ache inside Imogen as she takes it at once.  

Out of the corner of her eye, Imogen thinks she sees Orym watching them before he looks away quickly.

“I hope we won’t wake Zhudanna,” Laudna says, once their fingers are safely tangled together.

Fearne pauses where she’s climbing out of her seat, and Imogen thinks she sees a frown crease her forehead. “We’re not splitting up again.” 

It’s final, the way Fearne says it, and Imogen gets it, she does, but.

Laudna just sways on her feet for a second, blinking sleepily. Imogen wonders what she’s thinking; if she wants to be alone with Imogen, if she was counting on it, too. She considers linking her mind with Laudna’s, and whispering a secret message just for her, but she’d promised herself she’d use her words if she ever found Laudna again, so she swallows instead.

“We’ll be safe there—” Imogen tries, but Ashton is looking at them too, now, unreadable expression on their face.

“We’ve got separate rooms,” Ashton says, voice pitched a little low, like they don’t want the others to hear. “I assumed you two would take one.”

Laudna’s hand tightens in hers for a second.

“All right,” Imogen says, heartbeat fluttering in her chest, and follows everyone else up the stairs.

//

Before they go inside the door Ashton points out to them, Imogen watches Ashton catch Laudna's eye. There's a question in their eyes and Laudna nods, just a tiny lift of her chin before she drops it again, and Imogen sees Ashton smile before they duck inside their room. 

She presses her fingers against her temple out of habit, searching for thoughts that aren't there, before she drops her hand down to her side. 

//

Laudna crosses the room to the bed once they're inside, and sits down on the edge of it to start to kick her boots off, but Imogen just hovers by the door, unsure all of a sudden, what exactly she’s supposed to do.

Laudna toes out of one boot and then the other like she has a million times before, apparently unconcerned. She shrugs out of the birdhouse backpack she’s made, and puts it down carefully on the chest of drawers in the corner so the entryway where Pate comes and goes is facing away from the bed. 

Something about that makes Imogen want to blush furiously, and she hopes it doesn’t show on her face.

Laudna turns around, and then frowns, like she’s realised Imogen isn’t going about her usual bed-time routine.

“Are you all right, darling?” Laudna asks, softly, and Imogen does feel her cheeks flush then.

“I—I’m sorry,” she says at once. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to share the— I’m not expecting anything, Laudna. We can go as slow or as fast as you want. B-but if you’ve changed your mind, or don’t want me here, I can— I could share with someone else…” She trails off, and twists her fingers together helplessly. 

There’s a part of her that still doesn’t believe this is real, and she sees Laudna’s shoulders slump a little, her brow furrowing as she looks at her. “Imogen,” she says, voice low, and Imogen can’t meet her eyes.

She thinks about how she’d felt, all those days with Fearne and Chet and FCG, watching them with Deanna and FRIDA and feeling so alone, not knowing if Laudna was okay. She swallows, wondering how she’ll ever be able to tell Laudna exactly what it was like for her when Laudna had it so much worse.

Laudna’s hands still, and she just looks at Imogen for a long moment, her eyes dark and soft in the low light of the room. 

The silence stretches between them, so different to what Imogen has been used to her whole life. 

"What are you thinking?" Imogen forces herself to ask, the words tumbling out of her mouth. 

“I think—” Laudna hesitates, and Imogen is sure, for one horrible second, that Laudna really is going to tell her she made a mistake and that Imogen should go, that it would be easier if things went back to the way they were, but then Laudna sucks in a shaky breath, “—we can figure all of,” Laudna’s eyes slip over to Pate’s birdhouse and back, “that out, together.” She holds out a hand, inviting. “But for now, please come here.” 

It’s all she needed, and something that had been clenched tight inside her releases all at once. Imogen crosses the room and takes Laudna’s hand. After a second, Laudna tugs, and Imogen sinks down onto the bed next to her. 

Laudna’s fingers are always cold, and Imogen wraps her hands around them, as if she could warm them up. 

“I slept terribly without you,” Laudna says, softly, almost a confession. “I didn’t realise I would until you weren’t there.” 

“Me too.” Imogen strokes her thumb against the back of Laudna’s hand. Both times, she thinks quickly, when Otohan— and when they got separated. 

Laudna smiles, and nods, almost like she’s made a decision. “I’m going to kiss you now,” she says, and something flips over low in Imogen’s belly. “And then we’re going to get some sleep.”

“All right,” Imogen breathes, but Laudna is already coming closer, her eyes closing as the distance shrinks between them.

Laudna has to dip her head a bit—even when they’re sitting she’s taller—and her hand comes up to the hinge of Imogen’s jaw as Imogen leans up to meet her. Laudna’s mouth is cool against hers, but warmth floods through Imogen anyway. 

Their kisses at the market were fairly chaste, but this one feels a little different; Laudna’s mouth open against hers, Laudna’s forehead and nose pressed against her like she doesn’t want there to be any distance between them. It’s still soft and sweet, gentle, like Laudna is being careful, and Imogen wonders at that, that Laudna thinks she’s something to be careful with. 

Laudna makes a soft noise in the back of her throat and Imogen sighs into the next kiss, feeling Laudna smiling against her mouth, before they break apart.

Somehow it's even better than all the times she imagined it. 

When she opens her eyes, there’s a faint pink flush on Laudna’s usually pale cheeks. She looks even more beautiful than she usually does, and Imogen can’t stop herself from grinning.

After a second, Laudna’s lips quirk up into a smile too. “I know,” she says conspiratorially, as if they’re still listening to each other’s thoughts, and Imogen laughs.

//

They settle down on their backs side by side in the bed, elbows bumping together. 

After a second, Laudna's foot nudges against hers, and Imogen turns her head to find Laudna looking at her. 

"I am sorry about being angry this morning," Laudna says, slowly. "It just felt like… like we had very different experiences and after what happened with Bor'dor I just—it was hard."

"I know," she says at once, "I get it. You had every right to be angry. I'm so sorry for what happened to you." She means it, and hopes Laudna can hear the sincerity in her voice. "Whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here."

Laudna nods and reaches for Imogen's hand. She plays with Imogen's fingertips for a moment, then, "Will you tell me what happened to you? I wasn't ready to hear it this morning."

"All right." Imogen swallows, and rolls over onto her side so she can face Laudna, but doesn't let go of her hand. For a second, she wonders where to start before she settles on the most important truth. "I missed you every second of every day, and all I wanted was to get back to you. I was so scared something bad had happened to you." Laudna's fingers tighten in hers. "I kept trying to send to you, but it wouldn't work, it just kept hurting my head, and we couldn't teleport back and… it was awful. Everyone else might have had moments of happiness but I didn't. Not without you."

Laudna just looks at her, her expression softening. Imogen shrugs, helplessly, not sure what else she can say. 

"We're back together now," Laudna says, using a finger to tilt Imogen's chin up and meet her eyes. "Let's not get separated again." It hitches up at the end, almost like a question and it makes Imogen want to laugh, because if it was up to her they would never be further apart than this for the rest of their lives. 

"No," she agrees quickly. She can feel the ring she'd given to Laudna months ago against her skin where their hands meet, "never again."

#critical role #imodna #I just had to get this out of me #I don't mind we didn't get more from them but it doesn't stop me imagining it #ship: together either way #I'm still feral about them #fic #ficlet

[heavcnslyre]

chapter seven — j.f. ( masterlist )

AFTERGLOW.

“tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine,

even when i lose my mind”

taglist: @jellybassett @glowingtree @always-reading @yla-aira @infinitywarnatenthusiast @imogen-skye @ilovegilmoregirls @lucidlivi @rubydubytuby @creepynativekid @miniemonie2001 @viiel @marvelgirl0515 @ineedsomezzz @paytonloiselle @nueangel @mrsmaybank13 @lovelygloomm @starkeylover @stilesxreid @siriuslysmoking @itsash-okay @simp4maybank (comment or message me to join!)

you wake up the next morning a few minutes before five, and you’re immediately wide awake. suddenly, you really regret going to bed so early. you often sleep in while at cousins, at least until nine, so waking up at five in the morning feels like your nightmare. after almost thirty minutes of trying to convince yourself to go back to sleep, you finally give up. you stand up, stretch, then throw on an oversized crewneck as you sneak out your door. you slowly tiptoe downstairs, careful not to make any noises, and out the door, cherishing the fresh breeze as it gently brushes your face.

you slowly make your way to the beach. the sun was yet to rise, but it wasn’t completely dark out. the air was colder than usual due to the storm last night and there was debris everywhere, but otherwise, it was a beautiful morning.

you find a flat spot in the sand and sit down, facing the ocean. the waves were choppy, as they often are after a huge storm. if you were honest, this was how you liked the beach. the waves were fun to watch when they were like this, and you knew that they’d calm down by daytime so it would be safe to surf later. the silence on the beach with nothing but the crashing of the waves to fill the sound…perfection. it almost put you back to sleep.

as you watch the waves, images from your fight with jeremiah come back to your mind. you felt like an idiot, honestly. you had used your own insecurities to pick a fight with him and blamed him for how you felt, when truthfully, you never even asked him how he felt. maybe he really never meant to hurt you. you just wished that instead of fighting, the two of you had talked. really talked. you’ve never fought with him like that before. you really have never fought with him at all before.

soft footsteps approached you from behind, and suddenly, jeremiah was sitting next to you. he looks out at the water, not looking at you, but you watch him closely. your heart began to race as soon as you saw him. he seems so calm. he always does, honestly. he has never been one to let emotion drive his mood. except for last night, of course. but you blame yourself for that.

the two of you sit in silence for what feels like forever, your mind going in every direction, attempting to piece together some sort of apology. before you can say anything, jeremiah takes a deep breath.

“the day i knew i was in love with you was my eleventh birthday,” he says, as if he was casually discussing the weather. your head whips over to stare at him, wide-eyed, but he still was staring at the water. “i remember, so vividly, waking up in the middle of the night because you were in my room, decorating it. you were, uh, trying to do it quietly, but you were ten, so that wasn’t the easiest. i woke up and saw you doing that and pretended i was asleep because i didn’t wanna ruin the surprise. the next morning there was a homemade birthday cake on the counter and you… you had flour on your left cheek. my mom told me later that you insisted on making the cake for me yourself.”

he risks a glance at you and you’re still staring at him, wide-eyed. he continues. “i obviously didn’t know what love really felt like at eleven. but from that day on, you were the only person i ever cared about. i always wanted to be around you. i talked about you constantly. my mom knew it before i did, actually. at the end of last summer she asked me why i hadn’t made a move yet because the two of us made it painfully obvious we had feelings for each other. and i guess i didn’t really have an answer for her other than that i was scared.”

you stare at him, looking between his eyes. “scared?” you ask, your voice coming out small. he clears his throat.

“you’re my best friend, (y/n),” he says. “i can flirt with anyone and get with anyone else because it doesn’t matter…but with you, it does. i’ve always known that if you and me were going to be together, it needed to be perfect. that’s why the first night on the beach, when you told me you were dating peter, i got so upset. i guess i thought that was going to be my perfect moment. that’s not your fault, though. i made up this story in my head and i just…i didn’t know how to act when it didn’t go perfectly. i guess for a while i kinda thought i lost my chance with you.”

you don’t answer him, you just stare forward at the waves, which seem to be calming down. he clears his throat. “i’m sorry, i just needed to make sure you knew everything.”

“no!” you exclaim, “no, don’t apologize. i’m just… i don’t really know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” jeremiah assures. “i didn’t come here and expect you to declare your love for me back, i just needed to uh, put that out there. i don’t like when you’re mad at me.”

you stare at him closely. his body language seems to have stiffened and he avoids your eye contact again. you shake your head. “jere, i did all that for your birthday because i realized that i loved you, too.

“you were always so perfect to me. you taught me exactly how i should be treated by a guy, i genuinely never felt more respected than when i was with you. i…i kinda feel like i’ve just been waiting for you my whole life. like, every guy i talked to, i constantly compared to you. even peter, who i thought would break me out of this. he was never you, and i think that is what ruined a lot of my relationships. you are the only person i’ve ever truly wanted, i guess i just never knew how to admit it fully.”

before you can say anything else, jeremiah takes your face in his hands and kisses you. it was exactly like how you had imagined it your whole life. he was so gentle with you yet kissed you with passion, as if his entire world depended on you in that moment. you melt into him, tangling your hands in his beautiful, soft, hair as he moves his hands to hold your waist, pulling you closer to him. when you eventually pull apart, he rests his forehead on yours. he has an uncontrollable grin on his face. so do you.

“been waiting for you to do that all summer,” you say.

“i’ve been waiting to do that for years,” he replies. you laugh and cup his cheek in your hand, rubbing his face softly. the two of you stare at each other, dopey, lovestruck looks on both of your faces.

“jere?”

“hm?”

“you should be belly’s escort to the deb hall.”

“what?” he asks, shocked. “no, i can’t, not now.”

“she’s one of your best friends,” you say. “she deserves to have someone good take her, like you said. you’ll take her as a friend. i think she would really appreciate it.”

jeremiah sighs. “are you sure? i…i don’t wanna do anything to ruin this.”

you laugh. “jere, i swear to you, i wouldn’t let anything take you away from me. no matter what we are.”

he kisses you again, somehow with more passion this time. you smile into the kiss, feeling the same butterflies in your stomach that you had gotten from him your whole life. you had a feeling that you would always get butterflies when you’re with him.

the two of you end up laying in the sand, your head on his chest, listening to both the waves and his heartbeat. he holds you tightly and you cherish this moment. you knew that no matter what happened with the two of you, you’d always have this moment. you could always remember him like this.

eventually, after the sun rose, you head inside. you sit on a barstool as jeremiah starts a pot of coffee and searches in the pantry for something to make for breakfast. you sit and watch him, imagining if this was always your life. imagining early morning lie-ins with him, making breakfast for each other, spending your days together, supporting each other through everything. most of all, you imagined being with him year-round. you had never once spent a winter together, and suddenly, that was all you could think about. jeremiah caught you staring at him and laughs. “what’re you thinking about?”

“oh, you know,” you sigh dreamily. “marriage, kids, retirement. everything.”

he laughs again. “moving fast, huh? big plans.”

“of course,” you nod. “you making me coffee just convinced me that was next.”

he winks at you as he hands you a cup of coffee, made exactly how you like it. “good. that was my plan all along.”

a few minutes pass before belly wanders into the kitchen, yawning. she stops in surprise when she sees the two of you. “what are you guys doing up so early? and…um, together?”

you laugh and take a sip of your coffee. “just talking. what are you doing?”

she rubs her eyes as she sits next to you at the bar. “ugh, early deb practice. last couple weeks and they’re really drilling everything into our heads.”

“oh, speaking of,” jeremiah spins around and glances at you. you nod, and he faces belly. “i’d still love to be your escort, if you’ll have me.”

belly looks between the two of you and you give her an encouraging smile. she turns to jeremiah and smiles. “thank you, jere. you have no idea how much you’re saving my ass.”

“anything for my conklins’.” he winks at you then turns away, back to the eggs he had started cooking. belly gives you a ‘what the fuck was that’ look at you wave her off, mouthing that you’ll explain later. soon enough, jeremiah serves both of you perfectly cooked scrambled, cheesy eggs. belly shortly after excuses herself to get ready for practice, and jeremiah checks his watch sheepishly.

“i uh, guess i should go get ready too, right?” he asks you. you nod.

“oh yeah. you gotta make an appearance so everyone knows you’re real,” you say. he gives you a weak smile, then comes to stand in front of you.

“are you sure you’re okay with this?”

you grab his hand. “jere, i promise i am. anyways, we’ve kissed like, two times. i cant get too possessive this early.”

he laughs and kisses you softly. “what about three times?”

“still too little,” you say thoughtfully. “gotta get to like, sixty before i can start voicing my opinions.”

jeremiah hums and kisses your forehead lightly. “sure. so, by tomorrow night?”

you laugh and push him away lightly. “go, get ready. go be belly’s prince for a few weeks. i’ll be here when you get back.”

with one last kiss he leaves, but he turns around and gives you one last smile before he fully leaves the room and goes upstairs. you take a deep breath and rub your face, attempting to conceal the redness which you were sure was appearing on your cheeks. jeremiah had a way of making you feel like the only girl in the world. you hope, more than anything, that would never change.

#jeremiah fisher x reader #belly conklin #conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher x y/n #jeremiah x reader #tsitp belly #tsitp cast #tsitp conrad #tsitp #jeremiah fisher x you #the summer i turned pretty

[bobfloydsbabe]

burning flames | eccentric professor!bob floyd x oc

a gold rush fic

SUMMARY: A heated argument reaches a fever pitch for Bob and his TA.

WARNINGS: academia au, enemies to lovers (if you squint), age gap (mid-to-late 20s/late 30s), power imbalance, mutual jealousy, SMUT (fingering), bob being grumpy and rude. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

GOLD RUSH MASTERLIST

JOIN THE TAGLIST (new form–please sign up again if you haven't already)

SPECIAL THANKS to @cherrycola27 for letting me rant about professor bob and for sending thots when i ask for them. you're a real one.

A/N: very loosely inspired by the song style by taylor swift for the wonderful @laracrofted's 1989TGM writing celebration. this was supposed to be a mob boss bob fic, but that made me cry, so i switched gears and now here we are. i'm sorry this is so late, ames. enjoy!

“That’s all we have time for today. You’re dismissed.” He closes his book and listens to the sound of laptop lids being shut, chairs scraping against the old wooden floor, and chatter amongst his students. It’s a sound he’ll never tire of, no matter how long he teaches.

One sound is distinctly different, though. The sound of her voice. Sweet and soft. Lifting his eyes, he sees her talking to one of his students. Mike something. He can’t quite remember, but she laughs and puts her hand on his arm, making Bob clench his jaw.

Another student, Alicia, comes to his desk to talk about the upcoming assignment and what she can do to improve her grade. Normally, he would tell her to make an appointment at his office, but then Imogen laughs again, making heady eyes at that Mike guy, and he decides he has all the time in the world to talk to Alicia.

He tries to pay attention to his student, to answer her questions, and even tries to smile, but he can feel Imogen looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Her dark gaze is intense and sets his skin on fire in a way he’s been trying to ignore for weeks.

“So,” he hears Mike say. “What are your plans this weekend?”

Bob freezes. He lets his eyes wander over to Imogen, who’s still smiling. Next to him, Alicia is still talking, but her voice is far away and barely audible as he focuses on his assistant.

“I’m revising my dissertation proposal,” she tells him. “They rejected the last one for being too broad, so I have to narrow it down.”

Bob’s on that committee and strongly disagreed, but other members outnumbered him and he was forced to dissent. Dr. Kazansky had given her the news, and Bob remembers the heartbroken look in her eyes when she came to his office afterward. He’d wanted to comfort her then.

“Too busy to have dinner with me?”

Bob straightens his back, eyes still trained on Imogen as he dismisses Alicia, telling her to make an appointment if she wishes to discuss things further.

She mutters a thank you and scurries away. Imogen opens her mouth to answer, but Bob interrupts, certain he doesn’t want to hear the answer she’ll likely provide to this Mike character.

“Miss Van Doren,” he says, barely recognizing the hardness in his own voice. “My office. Now.”

He doesn’t wait for her to respond, but gathers his books and leaves the lecture hall without a glance back to see if she’s following. It doesn’t take long for him to hear her marching footsteps behind him, so he leaves the door open for her.

She slams it shut, so it rattles on the hinges.

“What is your problem?”

She’s furious. Nostrils flared, heavy breathing, and a delicious flush paints her cheeks pink.

“My problem?” he asks, placing the books on his desk. “What’s your problem?”

She drops her bag to the floor and crosses her arms in front of her chest. The gold necklace with her initial catches in the light, drawing his eyes down.

“I don’t have a problem,” she insists, taking a step toward him. “But you constantly berating me is getting old.”

He says nothing. He can’t. Not when she’s looking at him like she wants to wring his neck. Not when all the blood in his body is racing south, and he’s trying not to look at her legs, but they are on full display in that tight little skirt she’s wearing. Again.

He swears she’s doing it on purpose to rile him up.

He hates that it’s working.

She takes a deep breath, pushing her shoulders back, and looks up into his eyes. He’s always found hers unsettling, like she sees the parts of him he’s been hiding for decades.

“I know you don’t want me here, Dr. Floyd,” she says, gesturing around his office, making her short skirt even shorter, revealing more of her supple thighs. “You’ve made that abundantly clear, but you could at least show me the courtesy of not undermining me every time I talk to students.”

He frowns. “I don’t undermine you.”

She scoffs, gaze leaving him as her frustration fills the room. “You interrupted my conversation with Michael not five minutes ago,” she argues as her eyes find his again. Dark brown meeting ocean blue.

He steps forward, eyes wandering over every inch of her exposed skin, making his head spin with barely contained desire. “It was an inappropriate conversation.”

“He asked about my dissertation.”

Bob shakes his head. “No, he asked you out.”

“So what?” she throws her hands out to the side, exasperation turning into full-blown anger now. “He’s been trying to ask me out for weeks, but you always manage to interrupt. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you do it on purpose.”

He freezes. His heart’s beating painfully in his chest and his face feels like it’s on fire. There may even be steam coming out of his ears.

He watches Imogen run her hands through her hair, pulling at the roots, and he truly wishes she wouldn’t. It’s conjuring up very vivid images in his head that he shouldn’t have of his teaching assistant.

She looks at him expectantly, thinking an answer is going to come, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t know how to respond to that in a way that’ll make sense to her. It barely even makes sense to himself.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Bob says finally.

She scoffs. “Yeah, well, he treats me better than you do, and I know that’s a really low bar, but it’s better than—”

Bob crashes his lips against hers, swallowing the gasp she emits. For a moment nothing happens, and for a second he thinks he’s made a grave mistake, but then Imogen’s arms circle around his waist and she sighs against his mouth. 

He walks her backward until her back hits the wall behind his desk, and he presses her against it, trying to get closer.

He pulls away a few inches to look at her. Cheeks flushed, hair a little out of place, and pupils dilated. She’s never looked more delectable, and he knows she can feel his hard cock against her hip. He doesn’t care.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes search his face for something, but it’s unclear whether she finds it. “Why did you do that?”

Her voice is barely above a whisper. There’s no hint of regret, but the rational part of him knows this is a bad idea. He’s her superior, after all.

“You wouldn’t shut up.”

“So you kissed me?” she asks with an adorable wrinkle between her brows.

He frowns. Now sure he’s misjudged the situation, Bob leans back and squares his shoulders, letting his hands fall away from her neck.

“Oh no,” she tuts and grabs a handful of his sweater, pulling him back in. “Get back here.” She stands on her tiptoes and captures his mouth with her own, tongue dancing at the seam of his lips for entry.

He doesn’t have to be told twice. He leans his weight against her, pushing her against the wall, and groans into her mouth when she tugs on his hair.

His hands travel down her body. Grazing across the swell of her breasts, into the dip of her waist, the hips that have occupied his thoughts for weeks, and finally, her thighs. His lips never leave hers, and his tongue explores her mouth and the taste of mint that lingers from her toothpaste.

Imogen shudders as his fingertips tickle the back of her knees, whimpering at the touch.

His hands slide up the back of her bare thighs, feeling her soft skin under his palms. She moans into his mouth and it’s the most arousing sound he’s ever heard. He can’t help the roll of his hips, desperate for friction, for relief, for something warmer than his own hand.

His hands travel up under her skirt, feeling the plumpness of her ass in his hands make him push against her again and she’s meeting him with her own movement.

“Professor,” she moans, as he trails wet kisses along her throat, running his tongue over the skin afterward.

He hums, kneading her ass-cheeks, growing harder as he rocks against her. Even separated by layers of fabric, the friction is enough to drive him mad.

“Dr. Floyd,” she says, pulling his hair hard enough that his lips detach from her throat. Her pupils are wide and hungry, mirroring his own, and their heavy breaths mix in arousing unison. “I’m still mad at you.”

A smug smirk spreads across his face. “I know,” he says and removes one hand from her ass. He uses it to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t go out with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The words hang in the air. Bob keeps one hand on the side of her neck while the other remains under her skirt, playing with the edge of her panties. He holds her gaze, waiting for her to make the next move. To tell him where she stands, what she wants.

He sees the moment she decides, the corner of her mouth turning upward just enough to be a smile.

“Show me.”

Yanking her panties to the side, his fingertips glide along her folds, feeling her already soaking for him. Her mouth forms a perfect o as she gasps, and he wonders what else that pretty and vicious mouth can do.

Her fingers curl into the hair at his nape, gasping when he finds her clit. “So pretty like this,” he whispers, kissing the underside of her jaw.

“Professor,” she whimpers. “Please.”

“Come on,” he says, leaning back to watch her. Her brown doe eyes have gone dark with hunger and desire, arousal clear from the bead of sweat on her temple, and his cock is so hard he’s about to go insane. Yet, he still leans in close, his lips featherlight against her ear and whispers “moan for me.”

He leans back just in time to catch the look in her eyes when he presses his thumb against her clit and she lets herself moan. Louder than he expected, so his hand flies over her mouth, keeping her quiet, but feeling her smile beneath his palm.

His thumb massages her clit while his index finger finds her entrance, warmth begging him to enter. Bob meets Imogen’s eyes, asking without saying the words because he doesn’t trust either of them to keep their voices down.

Her nod sends him to heaven.

She moans into his hand as his finger slides inside her. He’s hot all over, groaning into her neck at the sensation of her. “So fucking tight,” he mumbles against her skin, making her clench around him.

Tightening her arms around his shoulders, she whimpers against his palm, and her hips meet his motions as he pumps his finger inside her. Her juices spread across his hand, and before long, he adds a second finger.

His office fills with the sounds of heavy breathing, muffled moans from Imogen, and barely contained groans from himself. He can feel her getting close, her legs trembling, struggling to stay upright. Leaning his forehead against hers, he removes his hand from her mouth. “Quiet,” he mutters against her lips.

She nods as she kisses him, open-mouthed and desperate, and his thumb draws tight circles on her clit as he angles his fingers against that spot inside her. She’s there. He knows it. “Good girl,” he whispers. “Cum for me.”

She does. Gushes around his fingers, writhing in his arms. He guides her through her high, holding her against the wood-paneled wall behind her. Her head falls against his shoulder as she comes down, and a long whine escapes her throat as he withdraws his fingers.

Leaning back to give her a little space, he takes in her unkempt hair, swollen lips, and the breathtaking pink flush in her cheeks. Her eyes flick down to his hand, then turn to the very obvious bulge in his slacks.

“I–”

She takes his hand, the one with fingers covered in her cum, and brings it to her lips. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she closes her mouth around his digits, swirling her tongue around them, tasting herself. He’s entranced, can’t stop watching her when she hums as if it’s the most delicious meal she’s ever had.

She withdraws his fingers with a pop, letting his hand fall back at his side. They stay there, looking at each other, processing what just happened between them. Not only is she his teaching assistant, but he’s on her dissertation committee. He has power and influence, and while she’s not his student, he is her superior.

“I…” he tries again, but trails off.

She smirks, squaring her shoulders. “Close your mouth, Dr. Floyd,” she says and sidesteps him, adjusting her skirt. “You’re too smart to be a mouth breather.”

She crosses the office, gathering her bag from the floor where she dropped it, and he gets a peek at her panties as she bends over. White lace. His slacks have never felt tighter.

Unsure what to say or do, he stands there watching while Imogen tries to make her hair look presentable. “Alright,” she mumbles after a minute. “See you tomorrow.”

The door closes behind her, leaving Bob in his office, surrounded by books, paper, a chessboard, a laptop he’s forced to own, and the memory of his TA coming undone on his fingers.

There’s only one word to describe the situation he now finds himself in.

“Fuck.”

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

TAGLIST: @roosterforme, @kmc1989, @bradshawsbaby, @cherrycola27, @wkndwlff, @yanna-banana, @bluezraven, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @hangmandruigandmav, @keyrani, @just-in-case-iloveyou, @solo-pitstop-vibes, @yuckosworld, @have-a-nice-day-k, @writingshae, @the-whitegirl-is-back, @dizzydisaster, @floydsmuse

#1989TGM #bob floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #robert floyd x oc #bob floyd fic #top gun maverick #tgm fic #lewis pullman #eccentric professor bob #professor bob #oc: imogen van doren #otp: bob x imogen #fic: gold rush #helenawrites #helena writes #mywriting #writtenbyme #madebyme #enjoy darlings #this is the first time i'm posting like actual smut in an actual fic #i'm nervous

[applecidersstuff]

Do you ever realize that the only person Crows can actually ask for relationship advice is Colm?

Like none of the crows have any experience in the area. And I’m gonna explain it.

Nina was about 13-13,5 when the SaB began, so by the end of RaR she’s about 15. And she is sixteen when she meets Matthias. When RaR ends Nina goes back to the little palace and finishes her education, it takes her about six months and after - she travels with Zoya, for about the same time. So she probably didn’t have any relationships in mind before the civil war, simply because she was focused on her studies and training, and she was a child, then during the war she probably was busy with staining alive, and after she was again studying. I think she probably had some little affairs, in Ravka after the war and maybe even in Ketterdam, but not long serious relationships. So she has no idea how it works.

I don’t think I have to explain this one, but I’d do it just for the record. Matthias became drüskelle(I hope I spelled that right) when he was 12, so obviously he was a child and didn’t have those thoughts in mind, and knowing how conservative and religious Matthias is I don’t think he had those things even when he was in his teens. So Nina is his first love and relationship.

I don’t think I need to explain him either, but anyway. Kaz was a child when he got traumatized, so no love. His first attempt was Imogen but they didn’t went further than flirt. So Inej is his first relationship.

The same thing goes for Inej, she’s 14 when kidnapped, and severely traumatized after the “menagerie.” So Kaz is also her first relationship and love.

And now for the fun part

Even though Jes is portrayed as a playboy(sorry but it’s true) I don’t think he’s ever had a relationship. You see, before coming to the university and Ketterdam he lives on the farm. Completely isolated by distance and Colms fears(I’m preparing a whole post about it). And when Jesper comes to Kerch he meets Kaz, gains a huge ugly crush on him, and doesn’t have any relationships before Wylan. Just like Nina he might have had some little affairs but not relationships.

And now for the hilarious part.

Wylan is the only crow who might have some sort of relationship experience.

Now when your shock has settled, I’m going to explain it.

Van Eck gave up on Wylan when Wy was about 8. And after that he hired tutors for him only for Wylan not to bother him. Wylan probably had tutors up until his father tried to kill him. During SoC Wylan is 16 going on 17, so when Van Eck “gets rid of him” he’s something about sixteen and a half(I need to specify this). And you know, rumors don’t start from nothing, in every rumor there is at least a little truth, no matter who started it. And sometimes it kinda sounds like Wylan just isn’t telling us some parts of his past life, like we know almost nothing about his teenage years. I think Wylans tutors wouldn’t be(at least not all of them) old grandpas, I think it would have been more likely for Van Eck to hire young, just out of university, people(because it would have been cheaper). If we believe that, we can also remember how desperate Wylan was for love(I mean he’s a traumatized baby), so I think he might have at least try to have some sort of relationship with his tutor. And I know that those kind of relationship would have been problematic, but keep in mind that we have a teen with daddy issues who spends about 8 hours a day with some guys. Greedy guys. (And I’m not talking about all eight years, just the last two)

So yeah out of all Crows Wylan is the only one who might have some sort of experience.

#please don’t kill me. this thing was stuck in my head all week and it won’t pay rent #I migh have explained it bad. sorry #six of crows #kaz brekker the bastard of the barrel #kaz brekker #nina x matthias #nina zenik #matthias helvar #helnik #inej supremacy #sankta inej #inej ghafa #kazzle dazzle #kaz x inej #jesper my beloved #jesper x wylan #wylan x jesper #jesper fahey #wesper #soc wesper #kanej #wylan van sunshine #wylan my beloved #wylan hendriks #shadow and bone wylan #soc wylan #six of crows wylan #wylan van eck #the grishaverse #the grisha series

[redjademilktea]

I've had this draft sitting around for a few months, but Marisha saying Laudna wants a "simple cottage core lesbian life" with Imogen in the lasted 4 Sided Dive made me want to go back and polish this up a bit!! For context, my partner asked me to write something small and imodna related with the word "baking" as a prompt. Just a quick writing exercise as a break from dissertation work. So I came up with this!!

----

"Okay one egg or two?"

"Two. And remember to add them in with the rest of the wet ingredients, not with the dry."

"You're supposed to separate- shit."

Imogen looked at the mess of ingredients, cooking utensils, and mixing bowls sprawled out on the counter in front of her. She didn't think learning this particular recipe would be walk in the park, per se. But she certainly didn't expect... well this - standing here with Laudna in their little cottage kitchen with the remnants of three (soon to be four) attempts at making a passable cookie batter splattered across various surfaces. "Start me off with somethin' easy," she had said when agreeing to baking lessons earlier in the day, "you really liked those cookies that Lord Eshertoss would bake for us, right? We can start with those." She let out a sigh at the memory.

Laudna now stood behind Imogen, peering over her shoulder at her... creation.

"Oh, you might be able to- hmmm." Laudna said as she tested the batter's flavor with her pinky. Suddenly, her eyes went wide as *something* seemed to hit her. Imogen cringed slightly as she awaited the verdict.

"Imogen, darling, you did add two *teaspoons* of vanilla, not tablespoons, correct?"

"Is there a difference?"

"A bit of one, yes," Laudna said with a low chuckle.

"Sorry Laudna," Imogen sighed. She moved to rub her eyes before quickly realizing her damn hands - just like everything else in the kitchen, really - were coated in that sad excuse for a cookie batter. She frustratedly began Prestidigitationing them clean before pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to quell an oncoming headache. Before she could get too anxious about the prospect of starting over *one more fucking time*, she felt thin arms wrap around her from behind.

"Imogen, darling, it's alright," Laudna hummed, "I always felt Eshteross was too, well, *extravagant* with his recipe writing. It can make it hard to follow at times." Laudna gestured with one of her hands wildly to emphasize the point in a way that Imogen couldn't help but smile at. "Honestly, do we really need to know what he was eating for breakfast or what life lessons his mother taught him as a child right before telling us to brown the butter?"

"You criticizin' his recipe writing, Laudna?" Imogen asked, already feeling the tension behind her eyes melting away.

"Well, yes, but I don't think he's open to any feedback at the moment."

Imogen let out a small gasp before turning her head to meet Laudna's eyes. "Laudna!" Imogen gave her a stern look in an attempt at mock consternation, but quickly relented into a fond gaze as soon as she caught sight of the way Laudna was leaning her head onto Imogen's shoulder.

"Well all I'm saying is, I love a good set of flowery prose, but there's a time and place. And a recipe certainly isn't the place! Besides, I've always said you were *very* capable. If it's giving you trouble, the recipe is obviously worded poorly!"

Imogen laughed more fully this time. Gods, Laudna could make her feel better about anything, even if it meant defending her honor and recipe following abilities to a dead man. She took a deep breath, taking in the subtle, earthy smell of fallen leaves to help ground her. She opened her eyes to Laudna's warm grin before planting a soft kiss on her lips.

"Thanks baby. Alright, one more time from the top okay with you?"

"Of course darling, just remind me to pick up more eggs from the market tomorrow. We may need to... restock soon."

#imodna #imogen temult #laudna #laudna cr #4sd #short fic!! #an excuse to write a bit about that cottage life in the Heartmoore for them 💕

[sparring-spirals]

I need to yell about fcg and *specifically* this great post that you wrote ( https://www.tumblr.com/sparring-spirals/747570433506902016/okay-after-some-sleep-back-on-my-bullshit-lets ) because it made me realize that I really, truly hope Laura will remember she took off her circlet moments before the bang and Imogen had the chance to hear that fcg was at peace with this decision, not because they were trying to be a martyr, but because they had a true chance to save their friends, knowing full well that detonating *would* be a sacrifice because their life *did* matter.

(I hope sending asks is okay, sorry to barge in like this)

Ahw, hell yeah, glad the post hit hard, recontextualizing it in my head helped a lot with chewing through my feelings about. All of this. I'm always okay with asks!! As long as folks are aware I am not necessarily going to agree with every ask that comes in, and more critically, sometimes I disappear off the face of the Earth for a while, dont answer asks, and then feel too embarassed about answering them so much later/get asks about something I didnt watch, go "ah ill answer when i watch it" and then. Well.

(To the various people who sent the total 12 asks that have been sitting in my box for over a year now. I am. So sorry.)

Honestly, I didnt even think about the possibility that Imogen might have heard it, goddamn. Fascinating. I was fully bracing myself for Bell's Hells just- never knowing, and them having to grapple with it. Which. Takes me out at the knees, tbh. I hesitate to speculate on it too much when the episode is going to come out Thursday and probably prove me wrong, but. God, there's no world where the Bell's Hells would instinctively know that F.C.G had made the call with that attitude, and fuck, that puts all of it into a different light, clearly.

I'm a little apprehensive and tbh deeply curious to see how the Bell's Hells take this- the depth of the loss, the sudden nature of it, the victory against Otohan probably not even feeling that way. Maybe wanting to honor F.C.G's sacrifice but. Probably. And understandably. Angry at them for making that call, but he's not. Even there for them to be angry at. So what then? So what then? They can have all these feelings and have all these questions about why he did it, about what he was thinking, and he's not there to answer them, and that's the issue.

If Imogen did hear his last thoughts, this elevates it into a different kind of heartbreaking, but probably still easier overall. The world where they don't know. Is. A more tricky one to navigate, for sure.

But also if I'm being honest. I am not opposed to how the cast would have the Bell's Hells experience and explore that scenario. So i mean. I mean. I hope so too. But if Imogen didnt. Consider me buckled in for whatever happens.

#GOD i shouldnt commit to watching the next ep when idk if i will or not but. i DO WANT TO SEE THE AFTERMATH..... #critical role #cr spoilers #spar speaks #c3e91 #ask away! #fcg #speculation #bell's hells #im really glad that meta seems to strike people. it helped me a lot to parse through my thoughts and hit that spot in my thinking so im gla #it resonates with others #sorry if this answer is kind of disjointed. im out of practice answering and have many thoughts lmao

[imogenkol]

— WIP WEDNESDAY

tagged by @corvosattano @cassietrn @socially-awkward-skeleton @theelderhazelnut @the-silver-chronicles thank you!!

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @marivenah @simonxriley @shegetsburned @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @inafieldofdaisies @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @jackiesarch @gwynbleidd @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto @katsigian @captastra

when you're struggling with being pissed off full of rage after dealing with extensive torture and loss and no one understands besides your slightly evil gf who is ready to root you on

A loud crash drowned out the mechanical whoosh of the door as it slid open to reveal Bix in mid-swing. She had struck the workbench and sent everything from spare parts to a flickering holoprojector flying. Wayward objects skittered across the floor in all directions and even collided with Imogen’s boots as she stepped through the threshold. The bounty hunter observed the scene for a moment, not entering the other woman’s space any further than she had. 

Immense frustration crackled through the air between them like an electrical storm while Bix inhaled and exhaled heavy breaths through her nose. Imogen noted dots of crimson welled at the edge of her hand from the force of her strike. A droplet trickled onto the now barren surface of the metal table as she clenched her hands into tight fists, but Bix did not seem to notice the injury or care. 

Imogen sighed, announcing her presence.

Bix shot her a sharp glare over her shoulder. The mechanic was not happy to see her. “Are you going to tell me to get a grip, too? That this isn’t me?” 

A small, patient smile upturned at the corner of Imogen’s mouth. “Your anger is one of the reasons I felt so drawn to you, love.” 

“Then what do you want?” Bix snapped as she rocked forward with a shaky sigh. One of her fists raised a few inches, but it rested back on the cold surface of the tabletop with barely subdued intention. Imogen felt if she had not been present, then there may have been a dent in the thick metal. “I’m not in the mood, Imogen.”

“I urge you to remember who you are talking to,” Imogen replied and moved closer, stepping around the scattered objects. “I would never ask you to cast your anger aside, Bix.” Once she came up beside her, Imogen gently reached for her hand to inspect the cut. It didn’t appear very deep and there were no signs foreign shards stuck in her flesh that Imogen could discern. “However, it does concern me to see it control you.”

Bix scoffed humorlessly and yanked her hand away. “You say that like I have a choice.”

“You do.”

The simple response caused the mechanic’s anger to spike like a bolt of lightning. “So what am I supposed to do, huh? Be like you? Act like nothing fazes me and then threaten to dismember someone at the slightest inconvenience?”  

Imogen did not react to the bitter jab, taking her lover’s outburst in stride. She knew that anger too well, it lived within her. Always. Imogen stepped back and began to collect the mess strewn across the floor. The handheld holoprojecter was the only thing that had been damaged significantly. 

“All you need is focus,” she said. 

Bix narrowed her eyes, deepening her scowl. “Focus.”

“Anger is a valuable tool if you allow it to be.” Imogen returned the first handful of items to the table and paused. Then she unclipped the saber hilt at her belt and held it up, the light dancing along the gilded electrum accents as she turned it. “This weapon is my rage. The crystal within it holds my pain, my shame, even my fear, and converts them all into a current of power. It focuses my emotions and allows me to wield what would otherwise cripple me.”

“Are you saying I need to build my own lightsaber?” Bix asked incredulously.

“No. I am saying that you must find your own focus for this wild rage inside of you. It is your ally. Work with it. Do not fight against it,” Imogen instructed, placing her hilt down and resuming her task of tidying up.

Bix rolled her eyes. “Please don’t feed me some Jedi nonsense right now.”

“This is not Jedi nonsense. The Jedi foolishly discouraged such emotions. To them, the natural sentient experience was a liability. We were instructed to let go of what we felt instead of understanding it. To surrender our will to the Force. That is nonsense. I do not wish to see you surrender, Bix.” While Imogen knelt on the floor, she spotted the blaster she had given to her mechanic and picked it up. With her grip on the barrel, she held it out to Bix. “I wish to see you rise.”

#oc insp: Imogen Kol #ship insp: if I had a heart #listen there ain’t no way Bix isn’t a hair trigger away from murder after what happened to her #and Imogen thinks it’s kinda sexy ngl

[leet911]

Ordinary Lies

Orym is the first to spot the other group, even though he's the shortest. “Over there!” He points and yells, takes off running. Laudna cranes her neck to see, stands on the tips of her toes for the extra height. And the silhouettes are unmistakable, even in the distance. Little metal friend rolling along on a single wheel, scraggly gnome with a cap, tall faun in billowing clothes leaping towards them, and a human woman trailing behind. Imogen is lavender hair and yellow scarf, hardened eyes and lightning scars. Imogen looks thinner than Laudna remembers.

But Fearne is the one bounding towards her. Fearne pats Orym on the head as he powers past her, and Fearne is the one who shouts. "Guys! Guys!" Fearne is positively beaming, and she wraps Laudna in a crushing hug as she approaches. "Laudna! Tell me you're ok. Tell me you guys are all ok."

Mister screeches as if to punctuate the question, and Laudna allows relief to wash over her even as the townsfolk around them start giving them strange looks. "We're ok. We're really ok."

Over Fearne's shoulder, Laudna can see Orym talking with Imogen, druid crafted flowers in her hair, and Orym's face is wet. Chetney claps the warrior on the back, and his face too is smiles and excitement. FCG rolls closer, and Ashton hoists them up into the air. Imogen's eyes flick up then, but look away just as quickly when Laudna catches them. Imogen turns back to Orym, nods at something he says, but her hands are nervous, fidgeting and wringing together.

Laudna hums in acknowledgement of Fearne's continued chatter, but her fingers twirl as she casts Message to Imogen.

"Hi."

"Hi." Imogen still doesn’t look.

"Imogen?" And Laudna's trying to be normal, trying so hard not to sound desperate. Because she misses Imogen. Because she's been compartmentalizing for far too long, and if the slightest crack starts in her walls, everything will come spilling out.

Continued below the cut, or on AO3

"Laudna?" And just the sound of her own name in her head is enough to make Laudna tremble. Because Imogen sounds shy, and scared, and lonely, and Laudna would give anything to make Imogen feel safe.

"Darling?"

"I can’t, I—"

And Laudna feels like she's falling, despite Fearne holding on to her. Because even if Laudna knows this can't possibly be a love story, it still feels like her heart is breaking. Never mind that Laudna told herself not to dream of futures that could never be.

Black tears form around her eyes, drip down in dark streaks. And she tries to hide her face when Imogen does glance up, but it's too late. Imogen sees.

She breaks free from Orym without warning, runs towards Laudna. There's a touch of hands and a flash of magic, then it's just the two of them on a rooftop, away from the bustle of the street below.

"Laudna," Imogen reaches for her, without hesitation now, mind and body. “I thought I lost you again.”

"Imogen. I’m here." And this time, there's no looking away. Their minds link as their hands clasp, fingers sliding over one another slowly. There is something here, in this moment, that feels right. It’s comfortable — familiar. Imogen's palm is just the slightest bit sweaty, and Laudna's is cool as always.

Imogen's finger catches on the ring, brushes over the ridge formed by two snakes, and just briefly, Laudna forgets about their connection. She thinks of the ruby ring, and the circumstances that led to its purchase. She thinks about the gnarlrock, about crying in the night, about flying through the air and clinging to Imogen. But mostly she thinks about Imogen, rubbing her temples, leaning close, pressing their foreheads together in that way she always does. "Does it hurt?" Laudna would ask. "Not with you," Imogen would answer. And Laudna would believe in those moments that there was hope in this world, that somehow she had managed to be deserving of Imogen, after everything that had happened. And she knows she said Imogen was like a sister, but she knows that’s not true. Because Laudna dreams of Imogen squeezing closer still, cupping a porcelain cheek with her hand, and pressing her lips to Laudna's.

There's a sudden exhalation, and a gasp from Imogen. "Do you want me to kiss you?" She asks out loud.

The panic is immediate. “I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I—”

But Imogen is moving, exactly like Laudna imagined. There is a hand on her face, lavender hair tickling her eyes as the distance closes, and then Imogen's mouth over hers. There is a sigh of relief and a pursing of lips. Imogen tilts her head and Laudna sucks in a breath. Imogen kisses her again and Laudna weeps. Gentle hands brush away dark tears, and Imogen shivers as wet eyes blink at her.

“Don’t cry. I’m here”

“I just missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” Imogen nestles against Laudna’s neck, draws little circles on Laudna’s back, whispers into her ear. “Will you hold me?”

Laudna tightens her grip. “Always.”

#critical role spoilers #fanfic #my fic #look how many reunion fics i can write #imodna #imogen temult #laudna

[masterqwertster]

For the gentle prompts. With the results of most recent episode I got thinking about your Ashton gets turned into a kid scenario propmpt fills again. Could you do Orym or Chetney interacting with kid Ashton. Dealers choice. Please just pull at my heartstrings.

Gentle 30 Prompt Went with Chetney and 12 "Close your eyes."

“Hey, Ashton, c’mere a sec!” Chetney calls across Alma’s garden.

The kid pauses whatever adventure they’re playing out with Laudna and a pile of Orym’s old toys, a few new hasty toys by the MC himself, Sashimi, and the ratty Ashton doll, to trot over as quick as they can without re-bruising their legs.

“Alright, now close your eyes,” Chetney instructs Ashton once they’ve drawn close.

It’s a joy to see the not-yet-a-genasi’s face light up in anticipation as his eyes shut and his hands automatically come out to cradle a new toy. Just a few repetitions and the kid has it figured out, like any kid getting spoiled should. (Chetney wonders if Ashton will remember any of this when he’s restored to his correct age. …could be a shot for one really good prank…)

The old toymaker places his latest creation in waiting palms, eager to see what the new owner thinks.

Mismatched eyes blink open and take in the finely detailed snide figure in their hands. The carved elf is rotated around to be inspected from all angles.

“Who’s this supposed to be?” Ashton asks, openly curious, if a little baffled.

“Well, I noticed your adventures were missing a villain. So meet Drixlitch, destroyer of good toys! He’s just awful. Drixlitch hates quality wooden toys and thinks they should be replaced with metal!” Chetney has to pause to poke Ashton’s (soft) tummy for rolling their eyes at him. The kid should respect his neuroses. “Worse! He brainwashes kids to think the same thing and then puts them to work making metal toys for him! And he’s a pompous bitch too,” Chetney animatedly explains.

It’s fun to spin a(n embellished) story of Drixlitch’s villainy to Ashton, to see them so enthralled by his story-telling chops. …Chetney might keep spinning the toy’s backstory just to bask in that child’s wonder a little longer.

“Thanks, Chetney!” Ashton says, once the story has wound down.

And they hug the old gnome.

Kid’s pretty fucking strong for being a skinny little twig, Chetney has to admit. Must be that burgeoning titan blood. Definitely isn’t him getting frail in his old age, that’s for sure.

Ashton is off again in a flash, eager to show Laudna their new toy.

“Oh? And who’s this new fellow?” the undead witch gamely asks.

“He’s a villain! Chetney said his name is Dick Litch!” 

Chetney cackles at the wonders of youth while Imogen chokes on her tea and Laudna has to bite her lip as she listens to Ashton’s continued explanation.

Boy does Chetney love being a toymaker.

#MQ&A #gentle 30 prompt #MQfic #ashton greymoore #chetney pock o'pea #de-aged ashton

[darkdisrepair]

time shift au where laudna grows up in the whitestone where percival and vex'ahlia are the lord and lady de rolo

her parents are killed when the delilah returns to whitestone in an attempt to get revenge on the family that thwarted her and murdered sylas the first time she tried to seize control of the city. but the rebellion prevails because vox machina in every world will defeat her.

due to the trauma of their adventuring, vex and percy struggle to have kids after vesper so they take in all the kids who were orphaned by the briarwoods

laudna grows up so, so loved by vex and percy.

percy cultivates her love of crafting and creativity, holding little laudna's hand as he takes her through the halls of the castle and listens to her chatter about what improvements can be made to the design

(she's always right).

he helps her, when all she can think about is the nooses hanging around her parents' throats, about impossibly slipping through delilah's fingers, when she feels the rope on her neck. he holds her and sings in celestial.

he knows, more than anyone, how to cope with the trauma of losing family to the briarwoods.

it's hard to describe laudna's relationship with vex'ahlia. in some ways, she's the replacement for the mother laudna can only remember in her faintest echoes of memory- in others, she's the sister laudna always desperately wanted.

they look alike, and dignitaries always think that laudna is vex's biological daughter, which never ceased to make laudna proud.

where laudna's time with percy is all about creating art, her time with vex'ahlia can only be described as stillness.

there's a quiet to her moments with vex- sitting quietly in council meetings, when she was really young and had separation anxiety from- well, everyone, since her parents died- (she's nine, now, and now she's so smart she can understand what the adults are talking about)- or walks through the woods that give laudna an inner peace she never quite found with percy.

and while laudna goes to percy when she can't shake the lingering memories of losing her family, she goes to vex at the times when her grief is larger than words or memories, when she wakes up sobbing and can't explain why.

it's not easy. sometimes it's harder, to be loved in the place that haunted her nightmares. but every time laudna wants to tear the place apart, she looks across the dinner table at vex'ahlia, who is trying to shoot chickens out of the air to make them all laugh and percival, who looks terribly resigned to it all, and her heart is warm.

(laudna isn't there when it happens, but one day a frantic keyleth steps through the sun tree holding a sobbing little lavender haired girl. her hands are clenched in the autumn leaves of the tempest's mantle, crackling with violet energy)

(she says she's been looking into children born under the red moon. she says that the little girl's father didn't know how to care for a daughter with powers beyond his experience, she says her mother is gone)

(keyleth and vex'ahlia exchange wordlessly sad glances. there aren't any questions asked between the two of them- two of the most powerful women in exandria- before vex'ahlia holds her arms out)

(but the little girl screams and screams and screams when she's pulled away from keyleth- the most heartbreaking, wretched cries, of a child ripped away from everything she's ever known, now taken away from the one person connected to her past life-)

(keyleth turns to go back to zephrah, but her hand reaches out to cast the spell on the sun tree and she can't bring herself to leave, and maybe it's reckless of her, but she crosses the distance between her and vex and lifts the lavender-haired girl- imogen, the father had said, like a prayer before placing imogen's hand in keyleth's- and takes her back into her arms)

(imogen's sobs calm, a little bit, and the panicked phantom sensation that had been radiating off of her faded slightly from keyleth's mind, and vex's, judging by the slight release of tension from vex's shoulders)

(she and vax had always imagined having a little girl.)

there are many more visits, after that, where vex'ahlia and keyleth sit side-by-side in the grounds of whitestone and watch a dark-haired girl and a violet-haired girl, much older now, walk hand-in-hand through the gardens, picking poppies and orchids.

you know i'm in love with you, right?

you know you saved my life, right?

i should have told you. it's yours.

(there are nights, where shadows flicker in zephrah, where a half-elf man dies defending the same lavender-haired girl, where the clouds turn red, and red, and red- but we don't think about that.)

#imodna #imogen temult #laudna #cr au #critical role au #critical role fanfiction #cr fanfiction #imogen x laudna #critical role spoilers #keyleth of the air ashari #keyleth #vex'ahlia #percival de rolo

[12pt-times-new-roman]

c3e73

Day 1 of Travel

(a very important update: Marisha's preferred coffee is a flat white with vanilla.)

FCG and Fearne try to scry on Caleb and Beau, and both of them seem to have amulets of proof against detection and location attuned. This means that they are definitely alive, because their scry did not fizzle as it would have if they were dead but was started and then pushed away.

FCG scries on D instead. He's still on the Menagerie Coast, in a large city — presumably either Nicodranas, Port Damali, or Port Zoon.

Meanwhile, Ashton heads below deck to find the skeleton tattoo artist. They convince him to give them a full back piece over the course of the voyage; and Orym asks them all to get a group tattoo. "I mean, no one's said it out loud yet, but... but we're all family now, right?"

Laudna is finally talking about everything that's happened with the entire group! Especially with Delilah, but the gnarlrock, her and Imogen's fight, Bor'dor, and the hunger of the shadow ability, too. FCG suggests she embrace Delilah, continue using the ability, allowing her to grow stronger — but one of the skeletons comes up to her and compares Laudna's situation to an alcohol addiction (which doesn't have as much of an impact because Laudna didn't choose to have or keep Delilah in her head, but is still applicable in some ways).

They ask the skeleton about the captain's trustworthiness, but with a 32 insight check, Fearne determines that although he does mean it when he says the captain is trustworthy and has always followed through on his promises, this particular skeleton is lonely and a little afraid. Syrilia, the navigator, watches him like a hawk.

Laudna: "I don't know if I'm just collecting these souls, like a phylactery, or—" Travis, immediately: *looks up the stat block for a lich while staring daggers at Marisha and Matt because he fuckin knows*

Ashton knows that they're all fighting for each other, and that they won't ever leave anyone behind. They will all have to sacrifice so much, they already have — but sacrifices do not mean casualties.

They go below decks and get their tattoos! Ashton gets an upper back/shoulder, punkish, in-style pair of wings, embossed with a transcription in Primordial: "of the earth, by the earth, for the earth." Everyone else gets a bell with flames around it in varying places.

FCG attempts to scry on Delilah. The ritual fails because she's not on the same plane of existence as FCG. Instead, they try to find her in Laudna's dreams: as Laudna focuses, it's like she has a hard time remembering what Delilah looks like, she's just an outline, a shadow, perpetually back-lit. FCG, meanwhile, sees Laudna stepping through a field of purple orchids and funerary flowers. The distant shadow of Whitestone, unfocused. As Laudna walks, Delilah walks in front of her, as if leading.

Fearne's flirting with the captain!

The combination of her fey irreverence, complete nonchalance, abysmal sleight of hand, and incredible (+13) insight is so fucking good already, but then you add her damn good charisma bonuses on top of all that?

Syrilia goes up to Fearne. "Don't sleep with the captain." "Why, because it's not good?" FEARNE—

The captain's quarters are lit with blue-white fire lanterns, sparsely decorated, with a canopy bed and a fainting couch. She takes the bed, and converses. The captain made a deal with Bane (or a servant of it): he gets his life, his crew, and his ship, in exchange for getting vengeance and all of his belongings, and then the deal is complete and he's free.

She lies down. After a minute — "You're very warm." "You can lie next to me for warmth, if you want." "Are you offering your warmth?" "That sounds ominous." "I'm sorry, everything I say sounds ominous — it sort of comes with the territory." He sits. In that little moment, he doesn't seem scary — he seems sheepish, careful. She convinces him to let her say goodbye to the blade they traded away — "you! Lass of the fey realm! Together, we can do a great many things!" — and she asks the captain, "did it say something to you?" "No." "Fine. Get in the bed. Just — get. in the bed." He looks nervous for a skeleton — "it's been a long time since I, uh..." "SPOONED?"

She can almost see breath as he sighs, content, warm. She looks around the room. Notably, she sees a ring on a wood-carved hand; a porcelain statue of a baby elephant; a chest in the corner with a heavy lock and a mildewed blanket over it; an eclectic collection of things.

All the while, for an hour or two, Fearne grows cold. On a successful saving throw, she reduces the stakes from a certainty to a choice: "do you relinquish the promised warmth?" "Yes." She feels a sliver of warmth leave her, and for just a moment, the captain's bones aren't blanched gray — they glow as if hit by morning sunlight. Fearne's hit points are permanently reduced by 5, and she gains a secret thing (probably a benefit, based on track record) that Matt will tell her at the break.

We skip back to when Fearne entered the chamber. Orym notices Syrilia become frantic at the captain's absence; she clambers down the crow's nest and onto the side of the boat. Taking advantage of the absence, Orym climbs up there, finds her spyglass, takes it, and leaves.

As soon as Fearne exits the captain's chambers, Syrilia is right there, the heat from her smoldering bones almost burning away the hair on Fearne's face. "Don't. ever. touch. the captain... I. will. end. you. If you touch him again. I have to protect him." Oh, she's fucking pissed. Fearne tells them they cuddled, and her bones heat up even more — in an instant, the freezing cold of the lower decks becomes a sauna, steam rises from the upper deck.

Imogen casts calm emotions, it doesn't work, and Fearne convinces her that the captain only talked about her — "you just need to go knock on the door at night. You just need a bit more confidence." and it almost works, but she does step back with a glare and a knocked crossbow.

In the morning, on the last day, the captain asks for more of Fearne's warmth. "I don't feel like I'm getting anything out of this!" "Well, you were kind, to offer a bit of your warmth. Perhaps we could make another deal." "I don't know if I'm being kind anymore!" "I'm, uh... not used to this. I'll be in my quarters, if you decide."

Imogen speaks into Syrilia's head. "I mean... you are warm... offer him your warmth." She walks, confidently, down the hall, up to the door, and raps on the door — her hand goes to the front of the captain's coat, where flames erupt, and the captain goes, "oh." "Word is, you're looking for warmth?"

Laudna sends Pate to spy on them, and it's like a sauna. The room is full of steam. A skeletal hand scrapes across a window, Kate Winslet-style.

Every lantern light on the ship turns from an icy blue to a warm orange-red. "The captain's gettin' peg-legged right now." "Yo ho ho!"

They arrive at their destination. "It's been terrible having you on board! Glad to be rid of you!" The captain's flaming eye winks.

Oh, the Bells Hells are planning something -- "we have a surprise for you!" "I don't like surprises." "Well, put that blade away, 'cause I'm not gonna tell you what it is." "...everyone below decks!"

They decorate the top deck with banners and all manner of things to celebrate the pirate crew.

Orym sets up a limbo vine. Chetney has a caricature portrait station. Laudna does face-painting. Imogen does fortune telling. Fearne runs games for prizes. Fearne plays the pan-flute with FCG as her pedalboard. Ashton finds their most noxious, strong-smelling whiskey and sets it out so they can remember the good times.

The skeleton pirates dance, they limbo, they don't eat -- they make fun of Kyle, but the Hells make a gift for him: a nametag ("my name's Kyle, you fucks!"), a drawing, and a defense against his bullies.

FCG and Fearne both quietly, unacknowledged, remark that they truly made a difference because of this. (Quick, someone write an analysis about how the Bells Hells constantly treat any difference made to the minority as a victory for the majority, and about how their constant defense of the minority is Not A Good Thing Actually when the majority consists of the majority of the fucking planet--)

Imogen takes Laudna's hands and starts the dance. The skeletons start to dance, their bones make the percussion section, Sanjay plays his violin. (The only thing I can imagine here is the elecroswing remix of Spooky Scary Skeletons)

When the captain announces landfall, the music immediately stops, and the entire crew encircles the Bells Hells. "If any of you tells a single soul that you've danced with the crew of the Crimson Abyss, your bloodlines will be on my list, as well. There was no dancin', there was no laughter, there was no limbo."

The captain gives them a list of some of his belongings, just to keep an eye and ear out for on their travels. Then, the jump into the water and begin to swim to shore, without the inhabitants of the island ever having seen the skeleton crew.

Their first look at the island of Kalutha is of a lagoon leading into a steep basalt cliff-face. The entire thing seems to be composed of columnar basalt, which breaks naturally into hexagonal pillars. The bright teal ocean contrasts with yellow and greenish flora.

There are ruins, remnants of what might've been a campsite -- Orym identifies them as being a few years old, but not ancient. He also spots two caverns, one at beach level and another 40 feet up the cliff.

Ashton sits, digs their hand into the black pebble beach, and just breathes. They sense their essence -- "both of their essences, really, as they are a being of conflict at all times..." a buzzing in their head of the Luxon, the drumming in their chest of their elemental nature. This place is unfamiliar, they know they've never seen it, but they still feel familiarly compelled by it, and they don't know why. They know they're in the right place, but nothing more.

They walk unto the ground-level cave and puts their hand against the wall. In Primordial -- "I'm here. I'm looking for you." But it's just the end of a cave.

Eventually, everyone makes it to the spherical chamber where the upper cave forks. Chetney runs alone to the right, where Pate hasn't scouted, following this citrine putrescence -- and here, he hears the sound of a thousand scales sliding against rock. He goes invisible, but snakes sense by smell -- out of the corner of his eye, something slithers past him, five feet in diameter. At the front, it looks like a thick-hided worm, and it's encircling him, this two-headed creature that's trying to pinpoint Chet's location but is unsure -- he takes out the horn of silent alarm, targeting Imogen.

and we enter initiative!

They're talking about the creatonotos gangis moth! It's that weird moth with extrusions that look like an eldritch horror that was circulating on Tumblr for a while.

No new combat updates :(

Farther down the cave, Chetney finds a lightless, underground chasm where seawater rushes through beneath the island. (Hey. Hey, y'all remember how the land around Cathmoira was shattered when the titans were expelled from it?)

In the creature's nest, they find some sundered weapons and armor. With a history check, Orym has heard of the material these are made of: woe-steel, a material that can only be found within the Shattered Teeth and that was created when Asmodeus shattered Domunas. The steel is sacred to the Ostended Host, and though it is magical (a natural +1 to material made with it), it can be destroyed by thunder damage.

They also find a unique charm on a broken chain: a woe-steel cage, palm-sized, encasing a smooth reddish-brown stone that has an unfamiliar language carved across it. FCG identifies it and finds that it is a raito charm, and has a deep cultural importance to the Aishio people (who inhabit the island of Kolutha and are part of the Ostended Host). It radiates abjuration magic, but the spell doesn't give FCG exactly what it is, and it is attunable only by a specific person, implying that the information of its existence is not accessible to FCG in the same way that information about other magical items has been.

Chetney uses grim psychometry on it. In the red vision, he sees an older man in his 50s, long salt and pepper hair in a bun, trekking through the jungle, leading a hunting party; he wears the charm around his neck, and in seconds was taken by the creature they just killed. Chetney has no sense of how long ago this happened, but because it's a magical item, it wouldn't have aged.

Traversing the other cavern path, they emerge into the creeping, vine-filled jungle that takes this valley. It's almost autumnal in color, and these pieces of columnar basalt are scattered about, some arcing for hundreds of feet in what look almost like broken bridges. But they can see the shadow of three massive mountain peaks that mark the center of this island, and somewhere near the base of those mountains lies the Great Tree of Atrophy.

#critical role #note watches c3 #critical role spoilers #critical role campaign 3 #critical role c3 #critical role liveblog #long post

[theycallme-thejackal]

One MidgeLenny x TSwift Fic Per Day

159. closure

It’s the worst fight she’s ever had with Joel.

It’s absurd, really. They’ve been re-divorced for six months. He has a baby on the way. She’s working consistently again, and they’ve been doing the co-parenting thing successfully for a while now.

So it’s a shock when he snaps, “Do you know how much easier my life would be if you would just get out of it?!”

She stares at him for a long moment before turning on her heel and leaving his apartment.

She ignores him shouting after her, “I thought you were taking the kids!” Because while she loves Ethan and Esther, Joel’s words have left her feeling so raw, so defeated, that she can’t be the mother they need at this moment. Tomorrow, maybe, but right now she needs to get as far from Joel and any reminder of him as she possibly can.

Which, unfortunately, also means she can’t go back to her apartment.

She realizes this just as she’s about to raise her arm to flag down a taxi, and her hand stops, falling to her side. She clenches her fists. She wants to scream, to throw things and break down and throw a temper tantrum in the middle of Chinatown.

She ponders going to Imogene’s before remembering she and Archie are visiting family in Iowa. She could go to Susie’s office, but that’s going to be the first place Joel checks.

So she takes a deep breath and walks. She walks until her feet are too tired to keep moving forward, and she realizes she’s ended up at Washington Square Park, the site of the last major breakdown she had the morning after being dumped from the Shy Baldwin tour.

She collapses onto a bench and feels her swollen, blistered feet thank her for the reprieve as she squeezes her eyes closed and starts crying.

She covers her face in her hands, resting her elbows on her knees to support herself while sobs wrack her body. It doesn’t even occur to her to care whether people are staring. Let them. Her ex-husband basically just told her he wishes she was dead, and she’s lonelier than she’s ever been.

A figure casts a shadow over her, and she ignores it until she hears, “Based on your posture, I’m guessing that’s not the show corset.”

She laughs through a sob because of course he’s here, her guardian angel, showing up out of the clear blue. She drops her hands but doesn’t look up. “This one has been officially dubbed the my ex wishes I was dead corset.”

She hears the burning of the end of his cigarette as he inhales. “Yeah, I’ve got a whole drawer of those,” he replies.

He sits next to her, and all she wants is to curl into him, close her eyes, and breathe him in until she forgets everything else around them. But that’s not who they are. 

They’re just friends.

“So...” She sniffs, swiping her fingers under her eyes, trying to wipe away her surely fucked makeup before she looks at him. “You’re back.”

“I’m back,” he confirms quietly. “And just in the nick of time, it seems.”

“The nick of time?” She repeats.

Lenny taps the ash from his cigarette and it flutters away in the breeze. “To make sure you’re okay. Legend has it that you tend to get arrested when you’re in a bad mood.”

She scoffs a mirthless laugh. “Well, thank you for rescuing me, then.”

Silence falls, and eventually he passes her his cigarette, almost gone. “Last puff?” He asks.

She turns her head slightly, still unable to meet his gaze, and takes it with trembling fingers, inhaling gratefully when it touches her lips. “Thanks,” she says again.

“You wanna talk about it?”

She slumps back against the bench, her shoulders bumping his arm stretched over the back. He doesn’t move away though. In fact, he adjusts so that his arm is draped over her, and he gently squeezes her shoulder. She shakes her head and whispers, “No, I don’t...”

He nods. “Okay,” he replies softly, and he shifts a little closer so their sides are pressed together. “We can just sit here, then.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” She looks at him cautiously.

His gaze is soft when he says, “You’re more important.”

She blinks quickly as more tears well up in her eyes, and she thumps her head against his shoulder as he soothingly rubs her arm.

#midgelenny #midge x lenny #midgexlenny #tmmm fanfic #marvelous mrs. maisel fanfic #otp: more important than god #jackal fics #mltswift

[laudsimogen]

Heya! Have absolutely been loving your fics! Not sure if these are particularly inspiring but a few prompts:

Reminiscing

Forgiveness

Pate (gotta wonder how BH are adjusting to life with him now lol)

Appreciate your work!

Together

Pâté was…a lot. Imogen had only just grown used to the little rat corpse when he’d suddenly gained life, and now she was back at square one: stuck between being unnerved by the rat’s presence and appreciating that he makes Laudna happy. Maybe it would take another two or three years, but she’d get used to this iteration of Pâté, too. Eventually.

There was only one thing that bothered her. Scared her, really, if she was being honest; if she thought too hard about it, a pit of anxiety grew in her stomach and she’d have to excuse herself to take a breather.

It shouldn’t be a problem. It shouldn’t, because Pâté has a big mouth and if he had something to say, surely he would have said it by now. But still, Imogen couldn’t be sure.

“Laudna?” Imogen twisted her hands nervously. “Can I ask you somethin’ about Pâté?”

“Oh,” Laudna said, “of course. Would you like to ask him instead?”

Pâté popped his head out of her hair. “Oi, I heard my name! Whaddaya need, sugarlips?”

“Pâté!” Laudna flicked the bird skull. “Stop talking to my friends like that, please.”

Imogen’s face burned, but she cleared her throat and choked out, “A-actually, could I talk to you alone? Is that…okay?” She didn’t know whether she was asking Pâté or Laudna, so her eyes flicked helplessly between them as she contemplated digging a hole and burying herself in it.

“Anything you can say to me, you can say to her,” Pâté said. “She was me, y’know. So, what’s the difference?”

“Just go talk to her,” Laudna said, her voice heavy with exasperation. “You make things so complicated sometimes, Pâté.”

“I make things interesting,” Pâté said, but he didn’t argue. He just unfurled his gruesome wings and flew past Imogen to the Inn’s hallway outside their room. Imogen followed him and closed the door gently behind her.

“You been actin’ awful squirrelly lately,” Pâté said, and he nudged Imogen’s shoulder with the side of his body. “You’re not plannin’ on doin’ anything…unsavory, are ya?”

“Like—like what?” Imogen shook her head and tried not to think about what he might be imagining. “Look, I just…do you remember things? From before you were alive?”

“Oh, yeah,” Pâté said. “I remember everything! You know, you can make me cover my eyes when you change, but I still know what you look like under all those frills.” If he had eyelids, Imogen was sure he would be winking at her.

Imogen sighed. “I’m serious, Pâté. I said some things to you that I really don’t think Laudna is in a position to hear right now. So, if you could just keep it to yourself, that would be great. For her.”

“For her. Riiight.” Pâté landed on Imogen’s shoulder and curled his tail under her chin. “Because it would be so bad for her to know those things, wouldn’t it, love?”

Imogen scowled and resisted the urge to bat Pâté off of her. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “She has much bigger things on her plate. All of her trauma is on the surface again and I don’t wanna keep loading her up with my problems. I want to help her, not…confuse her.” She paused. “And I think you agree, or you would have told her already.”

“How d’ya know I haven’t?”

Imogen froze. “Have you?” Surely he was bluffing. She would know if he’d told Laudna all of the things she’d said before; Laudna would be acting different, wouldn’t she? She was acting different, but that was only because she’d died again. Right?

“Sure!” Pâté gave a single cackling laugh. “I told ’er plenty. She needed it; you shoulda seen her when she was alone last night. Right mess. Only thing got her ta stop cryin’ was hearing whatcha told me.”

“Last night?” Imogen’s gut twisted. “I just stepped out for a minute; I thought she was asleep! I shouldn’t have left; I just—” Imogen broke off. “Oh, gods, she’s alone right now.”

Imogen spun around and burst back through the door, imagining Laudna curled on the bed crying, but she simply sat at the edge of the mattress fiddling with a hole in the threadbare sheets. She looked up at Imogen’s abrupt entrance, and concern washed over her face as she took in Imogen’s panicked expression.

“Imogen, what happened? What’s wrong?”

Imogen took a few deep breaths to slow her racing heart as Pâté flew past her to land on Laudna’s shoulder. “Nothin’,” she said. “I just—” She sighed. There wasn’t any point in making something up.

She sat down next to Laudna. “Pâté told me about last night,” she said. “I’m sorry I left you alone. If I’d known you were awake…”

Laudna shifted uncomfortably and looked down at her hands. “You don’t have to be with me twenty-four seven, Imogen,” she murmured. “It’s not your fault I’m such a mess. I don’t want to burden you any more than I already have.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Imogen’s voice was desperate, firm, but not annoyed. Never annoyed. “You aren’t a burden. You never have been and you never will be. What can I do to help you understand that?”

“I don’t know,” Laudna whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to feel normal.”

Imogen deflated. “No, Laudna, no,” she crooned, and she cradled Laudna’s face between her hands. “You don’t have to be sorry, and you don’t have to feel normal. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. None of this is your fault. Okay?”

Laudna nodded and rested a hand on top of Imogen’s, holding it to her cheek. “Pâté told me about some things you said when I…when I wasn’t around. Are they true?”

Fuck. Imogen had all but forgotten about what she was originally worried about. “I…I don’t know what he told you,” she said. “What did he say?”

Laudna held her hand out, and Pâté climbed down her arm and into her palm so that she could hold him to her chest. He looked almost sweet when he wasn’t speaking.

“He said you spent every night beside me, begging me to come back,” Laudna said quietly, her gaze locked down onto Pâté. “That you would do anything. He said he didn’t know much about love, but he could tell that you…that you loved me very much, even when I wasn’t there to see it. That you needed me.”

Imogen let her breath out. So, he didn’t tell her about everything else, all the little things when she’d held him while Laudna went out to pick berries for a pie or go for a dip in a pond. She always asked Imogen if she wanted to join her, of course, but Imogen preferred to sit back and watch, murmuring to Pâté about how breathtaking it was to watch Laudna have fun, how her smile was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her life, how she wished she could kiss those lips and hold her waist and tell her how she really felt. How she thought Laudna was the best person she had ever met, and how she’d spend her entire life with her if she could. If Laudna ever came to a point where she would be ready to hear those things, she would hear them from Imogen herself.

“Of course it’s true,” Imogen said. “You know I love you, Laudna. Did you doubt that?”

“No,” Laudna said, but her voice betrayed her uncertainty. “It’s not…it’s not that I thought you didn’t love me; you’ve always made sure I’m aware of that. I just feel like I’m holding you back, and you don’t see it. I’ve just impeded your progress by a week, Imogen. Maybe I can still help you in your journey for now, but you won’t always need me, and I’m afraid that moment may come sooner than I expected. I don’t ever want to hold you back, and right now, I’m just…” She sighed. “I don’t think I’ve even managed to make you laugh once since I returned. How am I supposed to help you with something as big as the moon if I can’t even make you happy anymore? I’m useless.”

Imogen’s heart sank, and she swallowed hard, willing herself not to cry. “You do make me happy, Laudna. It’s not you; we’ve had a lot going on, so yeah, I’ve not been much in the mood to laugh. But getting you back was…that was the happiest moment of my life.” Imogen took Laudna’s hands and squeezed them as a tear began to fall. “Please believe me. You’re not useless, you can’t hold me back, I’ll always need you. I’m so sorry I haven’t made that clear enough. You’re the most important thing in the world to me, Laud, and not because of what you can do for me. I just love you. Simple as that.”

“Told ya,” came Pâté‘s raspy voice, muffled by Laudna’s blouse. Laudna shushed him, then took a deep, shaky breath.

“You’re sure?” she whispered. “You’re sure I’m worth it, even in this state?”

Imogen didn’t know whether Laudna meant her state of undeath, her state of mind, or any number of other things, but her answer was the same regardless. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Laudna laughed through the inky tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she said.

“Funny, ’cause that’s exactly how I feel about you,” Imogen said with a soft smile. “You’re wonderful, Laudna. It’s okay to admit to yourself that you’re worthy of being loved. I know how hard it can be, but you helped me understand that a long time ago. It’s your turn now.”

Laudna let out another breathy laugh and wiped her eyes. “I suppose that’s just something to add to my third-chance docket,” she said. “I know I haven’t been myself lately. But it helps having you here to hold on to when I feel I’m falling into deep water. So, thank you.”

“You got nothin’ to thank me for,” Imogen said. “I’m always gonna be here for you, no matter what you need. You just call and I’ll answer. Okay?”

“All right,” Laudna said. Then, Imogen?

Laudna’s mental voice sounded in Imogen’s head, and warmth spread through her at the familiar contact.

Yeah, honey?

I need something. If it’s all right with you.

Imogen could feel Laudna’s emotions through their connection: warmth, anxiety, hope, sadness. Love, more than anything. It was a complex, tangled web, but Imogen didn’t mind. She had been prepared for days, weeks, years to meet Laudna where she was at, no matter how complicated.

Of course, Imogen thought. Anything.

Could you just hold me for a while?

Another wave of emotion washed over Imogen from Laudna’s mind, including a fair amount of nervousness asking so explicitly for something just for herself.

Imogen didn’t hesitate. She swept Laudna into her arms, careful not to crush Pâté between them, and held her as close as she could get. Her heart swelled as Laudna burrowed into her, burying her face in her shoulder, and took a deep, contented breath. This was how things ought to be, Imogen thought. Laudna flush against her, breathing softly and slowly as if the world were just the two of them, warm and easy and together. Sure, the both of them needed a bit of work on themselves, but that was fine. Everything would be fine as long as they had each other, and Imogen would make sure Laudna knew from now on that it goes both ways.

#critical role #imodna #imogen temult #laudna #my writing #thank you! #obviously i chose pate #it was a challenge lol i feel like this one is a mess but i hope you like it!! #it also turned out way angstier than i meant so. oops

[unicyclehippo]

not sure if this will stay in the fic so

‘It’s strange to be back here.’

‘Yes. Yes, I can imagine.’

Laudna strokes Pate’s head with one finger. ‘May I -’ she begins, and then stops. Strokes along the crest of the bird skull, once, twice, too many times. She might look slightly upset, if anyone were looking at her. ‘May I ask you...’

‘Yes. I will try to answer any question you have.’

‘Hm,’ she says to that. He’s very accommodating, now that she’s sufficiently terrified of him. Another thing she will not say to him, only think. ‘The bodies.’ Everyone goes a little tense. She strokes Pate’s head. He can complain now that he’s alive but he doesn’t. Just pushes his little skull into her hand and wraps his paws around her thumb of the hand that holds him, pulls it around his fat belly like a blanket, snuggles close. ‘Did you bury them?’

Lord de Rolo clutches at his wine glass. ‘We burned them. We thought... We thought it safer for everyone.’

‘Oh.’ She nods. Looks out the window. The Sun Tree is on the other side of the castle from them, she’s fairly sure, but her mind helpfully pushes its shadow against the glass. ‘Yes. Probably.’

In a quiet voice, the Lord says, ‘You should eat.’ Her plate is full. More full than it had been to start; Imogen and Ashton, flanking her, have been adding to it. In case she might want this piece or another. ‘Returning is difficult. I remember it was exhausting.’

The shadows lengthen. The branches of the tree spread, like dark cracks in the glass splintering out and up.

‘Did you want to come back?’

The table goes quiet. Not the quiet of listening but the quiet of people holding their breath. She’s not sure why. Was it a rude question? Were they listening for his answer? It’s taking some time. She pulls her eyes from the window, wanders back to the Lord by way of the banner on the wall, the pretty detailing in the stone-arch roof, the wine glass.

Lord de Rolo swallows. His jaw is tight. She’s afraid all that ice might shatter if she presses too hard so she folds her hands in close to her, lifts Pate to her shoulder, presses her hands to her neck, her clavicle. Lord de Rolo nods.

‘I did.’

Laudna works at her next question like a bit of gristle between her teeth. She’s trying to soften it but her efforts only make it a little gross, a little underwhelming, when she finally spits out,

‘Did you deserve it?’

‘No,’ he returns immediately.

'Percy, darling,’

‘Not at the time,’ he adds, and Laudna can’t tell if he has softened his tone for her or for his wife. ‘But I have tried to ensure every day since to be the man deserving of being recalled.’

‘Oh. That’s nice.’

#cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #im not sure if it fits yet but i like it #laudna my beloved #tagging my stories #dont WORRY about it #it’s not technically a story bc it doesn’t do anything n it’s not finished or started and YET it goes in the tag so I don’t lose it

[wonderlandleighleigh]

(warning for drug use)

1962

“You need to get back to New York.”

Lenny snorts as he settles back in his desk chair. “What for?” he asks. “It’s not like you can have me on the show, Gordon.”

Gordon sighs heavily. “Look, I- I don’t know how to...Midge hasn’t been feeling like herself.”

He sits up quickly, gripping the phone. He hasn’t been watching the show lately. He just doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’d left behind. It was better to have a clean break after not being able to gig in New York again and Midge is better off without him anyways. “What does that mean, ‘not like herself’?”

“It means...she was feeling depressed,” Gordon says awkwardly. “And her friend Imogene suggested she go see someone about it...”

Lenny squeezes his eyes shut. “Let me guess: A doctor someone with a prescription pad.”  

“Good guess,” Gordon says. “She’s not eating much, as far as I know. Probably not sleeping, either. Everyone else thinks she’s fine, but I’m worried she’s been taking more than she should, and if anyone can sniff out a Midge problem, it’s you.”

“I shouldn’t,” Lenny tells him. “We ended things because I fucked it all up, she doesn’t want to see me.”

“I am begging you,” Gordon tells him. “Put your shit aside for a few days. I don’t wanna lose my house comic, and I really don’t wanna lose my friend.”

Lenny sighs heavily. “I’ll catch the next flight out. But you’re paying for my hotel room.”

“Fuck you, you know you’re gonna be staying with Midge.”

“I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

****

His first stop is Midge’s, and when he knocks on the door, there’s no answer. So it’s a good thing he still has the key to the utility entrance in the kitchen. 

When he steps in, the apartment is mostly dark (odd for Midge and her parents), and there’s an eeriness to the place being so quiet.

“Midge?” he calls. “You home?”

Her voice is quiet, coming from the bathroom.

“Lenny?”

He heads that way, and he finds

Well.

Midge is sitting up against the bathtub, looking dazed, wearing her nightgown, her hair curly around her pretty but too-thin face.

And there’s a pill bottle on the sink.

Lenny snatches it up, reading it quickly. “Dexamyl. Fuck, Midge, if you wanted a drug problem, I could have given you better pointers.”

She shakes her head, trying to focus on him. “The doctor said to take two when I need them, but I...I got a little confused and I think I already took them, and then I took two more...”

“So you’ve literally been knocked on your ass,” Lenny says. “Midge, you went through this with me. Why would you-”

“I was sad,” she blurts out, squeezing her eyes shut. “I went to this doctor Imogene recommended, and-”

“He gave you a barbiturate and amphetamine mix to make you feel happy,” Lenny finishes for her.

“He said they would help,” Midge tells him. “That...that lots of women take these to help them.” 

“Where are your parents?”

“Paris. Kids are with Joel this week.”

Lenny sighs softly and sits next to her, wrapping an arm around her, letting her cuddle in against him. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I’m here.”

“You’ll leave again,” she slurs out. “Everyone leaves. Joel. Shy’s plane. You.”

He sighs softly and holds her tighter.

*****

Eventually, he gets Midge settled in bed with some water, and she falls into a hard sleep. He sighs heavily and tidies up a little before dumping the pills into the toilet and flushing.

This wasn’t supposed to happen to Midge. Him, sure. He’s fallen off the wagon plenty in the last couple of years, though he’s two months clean now by some fucking miracle. But Midge isn’t supposed to be the one to fall for this crap.

“Dexamyl,” he says over the phone to Gordon a little while later as he puts together some soup in the kitchen. “She’s high as a fucking kite, and she doesn’t remember how the hell many she takes so she just takes more.”

“Whelp. She’s officially on paid leave from the show.”

“Yeah,” Lenny sighs.

“You wanna fill in for her?”

“Is that legal?”

“Who gives a fuck?”

*****

When he heads back to the bedroom, Midge is up and looking a little more with it, sitting with her chin on her knees, shame on her face.

“I made soup,” he offers. “You must be hungry.”

She shrugs.

“I know the pills make you lose your appetite,” he says gently. “But you have to eat something, Midge.”

He still doesn’t get an answer, and Lenny sighs as he walks over, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I talked to Gordon. He’s put you on paid leave for the next few weeks so you have some time to recover.”

“Fine,” she says quietly.

“He’s the one who asked me to fly in, by the way,” Lenny explains. “He was worried about you.”

Midge nods slowly. “I’m sorry, Lenny. This is probably the last thing you needed.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“I just started to feel so hopeless, and...and Imogene said that he had helped her. I thought it was safe.”

“It’s not your fault, Midge,” Lenny assures her. “Shit’s like candy, believe me, I know.”

“Did you get rid of them?”

“Yes, I did. Flushed.”

She nods. “Thanks.”

“I’m always here for you, Midge,” he says quietly. “You know how much I love you. Hell, I left because I love you.”

She doesn’t respond to that.

“Can I get you some soup?” he offers. “Please?”

Midge nods, swallowing. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out, relieved. “I’ll be right back.”

She reaches out quickly, snatching at his hand. “Lenny.”

He stops, gazing down at her worried.

“I love you, too,” she says quietly, gazing up at him sadly. “You know I do.”

Lenny nods, stroking her hair gently. “I know, Sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

She nods, loosening her grip on him, and letting him go.

#fic #au #tmmm #Midge x Lenny #Midge/Lenny #I don't know how this turned out but I wanted to try to write this #it was very common in the 50's and 60's for women to be prescribed dangerous drugs to keep them Happy #a little nervous about this one #drug use trigger warning

[cactusspatz]

August recs

August was too hot to live and weirdly stressful, so I've only got a handful of new stories plus a whole lot of my favorite tropes (so much amnesia!) and fic from fandoms I'm technically not in.

NEW STUFF

I Got My Head Checked by @frostbitebakery​ (Star Wars, Cody/Obi-Wan)

Below the observation deck, the Marshal Commander of the Third Systems Army is being divested of his armor and weapons, shackles heavy on his wrists. He doesn’t struggle, only a mulish stubborn twist to his jaw showing his displeasure at the situation.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes, steps back from the observation window. “I need a week.”

OR: In which Cody wasn’t trained for a Sith sliding into a moral dilemma because of him.

So apparently I AM weak for a Sith!AU when it's an amazing enemies-to-lovers with a redemption arc? Awesome story with beautiful art by the author. It's written in an unusual vignette format that might not be for everyone, but I thought it let the author cover a wide ensemble and scope of story and tonal shifts very effectively.

To the Letter by glimmerglanger (Star Wars, Cody/Obi-Wan)

“How you feeling, sir?” he asked, eyeing his General. They’d, at least, managed to all evac back to the shuttles without losing anyone, leaving the noxious-smelling laboratory where they’d found a pack of Seppy scientists working on new biological weapons behind.

“I’ll be fine, Commander,” Obi-Wan said, without opening his eyes, his voice thick and hoarse. “But comm ahead, would you, and make sure the medics are ready for me.”

OR, the one were Obi-Wan gets dosed with an especially nasty toxin, and Cody helps him survive the following hours.

The first chapter of this story was originally a standalone that I remember thinking was incredibly hot but emotionally unresolved, but glimmerglanger just posted a second chapter where Cody gets into a mirrored situation and it really balances out the whole piece.

Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (The Untamed, Wangxian)

Lan Zhan’s new liaison at the Caiyi Municipal Cultivation Department is an enigma – ridiculously talented, yet somehow content with mopping up spiritual pests for barely above minimum wage. Wei Ying is slapdash and irresponsible, and Lan Zhan doesn’t like him at all… but then he meets A-Yuan, who loves music and longs for a piano his father can’t afford.

Forced into cautious friendship by a four-year-old's music lessons, Lan Zhan soon realises Wei Ying is more than he seems. The single father is a man of many secrets – including, perhaps, the key to Lan Zhan's life's work. And in the meantime, the background resentment in Caiyi Town is rising to dangerous levels…

I've already recced this by reblogging the fic notice, but it's so great! Plot and romance and feels all well-balanced and creative, with adorable kid content, plus I loved Lan Zhan's research into reconstructing musical cultivation, the modern cultivation worldbuilding generally, and the Lan brothers dynamic.

More tropey recs under the cut!

AMNESIA

Exile by Marchling (Shadowhunters, Magnus/Alec)

Imogen Herondale hated Alec Lightwood.

Everyone from Jia Penhallow all the way through Jace himself knew of her animosity towards the person that she felt held her grandson back from the all that the Herondale name deserved. Despite this, Alec never thought she would actually move against him because to hurt him was to hurt Jace.

He had been wrong.

Now, Alec had no runes. His memories were gone. He had no idea who he was, why there was a ragged wound inside of him that he couldn't see or how he had gotten to this abandoned apartment in San Francisco.

All he knew was that monsters were tracking him and staying alive might take more strength than he had.

Technically all that I know about this fandom I got from a four-hour compilation of Malec clips I watched on YouTube, but this fic combined three of my very favorite tropes (amnesia, homelessness, framed/falsely accused) in one glorious h/c epic that just fucking came for my id. Loved it!

Body of Memory by glorious_spoon (Shadowhunters, Magnus/Alec)

After a patrol gone very wrong, Alec Lightwood comes to in the infirmary with no memory of the past three years, and that turns out to be just the beginning of his problems. There's an ominous plot afoot, a possible traitor at the Institute, and he's pretty sure that he ought to remember the handsome warlock who was waiting beside his bed when he woke up...

This is a great pairing for amnesia, because they had to work SO hard to get together, and their world changed so much in the process - so it's fun to temporarily reset one of them to zero and watch them fall in love all over again, hah. Fun casefile as well!

And you yourself shall keep the key of it by RubyCaspar (Miss Fisher, Jack/Phryne)

Jack is all set to follow Phryne until a bad accident in a raid leaves him with a serious head injury. When he wakes up, he can't remember anything of the last seventeen months, and as far as he's concerned, Miss Fisher is just that rather exasperating, eccentric lady who's interfered with two of his murder investigations.

Gorgeously cozy and soft h/c fic with a hefty dose of pining, just the way I like it.

OTHER

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot by laiqualaurelote (Miss Fisher, Jack/Phryne)

Across a harrowing three days, Jack talked Agent Foxtrot through an increasingly improbable series of escapades and was disobeyed by her a grand total of 117 times. Eventually they managed to fob off nuclear war without destroying any Unesco heritage sites, and then Jack went home and slept for fifteen hours and returned to his office feeling marginally closer to human, only to see perched on his desk an extraordinarily beautiful woman in a frock the colour of fresh blood, spinning the chamber of a shiny golden pistol.

The AU in which Phryne is a secret agent and Jack is her long-suffering handler.

I'm quite wary of modern AUs in this fandom, since Phryne is so much a product of her time and history, but this fic nailed it AND had spy shenanigans and that dynamic I love about this pairing where they've got trust and intimacy and friendship, and yet keep shying away from a relationship because of their issues (but they get there eventually).

Nor Any Drop by @philomytha​ (Biggles series, gen)

Blowing up the reservoir has more consequences than Biggles expected.

So I still have not read any of these books (yet), but this is a GREAT horror-thriller story set in WWI. Just sit back and enjoy these two being exceedingly honorable slashy undercover enemies (juggling five identities between them!) while trying to survive a terrifying supernatural threat.

What's In A Name? by flawedamythyst (Our Flag Means Death, Ed/Stede)

Captains Grey and Edwards, retired merchant sailors, moved to town a couple of years ago. Tom, the local pub landlord, has spent most of the time since trying to ignore the many, many things they do that directly contradict who they're claiming to be. Still, it's all worth it to have the protection of two legendary pirates for the town.

Sorry, not legendary pirates. Merchant captains. Who are just best friends and definitely nothing else.

Exceptionally cute look at a hypothetical retirement for them, from a charming outsider POV.

Finding Your Bliss by AirgiodSLV (Shadowhunters, Magnus/Alec)

On the pathway to Alexander Lightwood's advanced sexual enlightenment, Magnus starts simple. Or rather, he backpedals to simple, because Alec takes one look at the bedroom Magnus has transformed into a BDSM dream dungeon, turns around and walks right back out again.

My favorite kind of misunderstanding fic - i.e. they're communicating healthily but just coming from such different points that it takes them a while to work things out. Sexy, funny, great characterization.

#star wars #cody/obi-wan #codywan #shadowhunters #magnus/alec #malec #amnesia #miss fisher #jack/phryne #biggles #ofmd #ed/stede #the untamed #wangxian #monthly recs #fic rec