#If I keep stalling on posting this I'll probably just end up not posting it at all but hrghrgh ANYWAYS

[fukounaboy]

:3

[catsharky]

(Spoilers for Astarion's romance in Act 2)

I would have liked to do something for terrible comic day, but a stubborn migraine put the kibosh on that, so instead have something vaguely in the spirit of it. I tend to prefer to only post clean, finished work and this is decidedly not that.

This is an unfinished comic I started back in October that I unfortunately stalled out on while it was still in the roughs/planning stage. I was a little disappointed that during the post-Araj conversation you have with Astarion, you only got to choose one question to ask before the conversation moved on, and I wanted to try and combine a few of them into a single back and forth (I also originally just wanted to set up a joke and then it grew legs and ran off in a totally different direction😭)

No idea if I'll ever end up finishing this! I'd like to, it's just a question of whether I'll actually get around to it. Only time will tell.

If anyone's interested, I've also included an alternate, scrapped version of page 9 under the cut and some Ember Lore/rambling about what I was going for with this comic that probably doesn't come across properly thanks to where it cuts off

After finishing this page, it ended up just not feeling quite right. Not only did it put too much of the focus on Ember too early (I wanted to keep the spotlight on Astarion's feelings for a while longer) but her reaction came across too vulnerable, and was reading as her being upset to find out that Astarion hadn't been invested in the relationship when they slept together. I wanted the reader to be able to initially make that assumption because that's how Astarion is taking her reaction, but it leaned a little too heavy in that direction.

Ember was aware from the start that Astarion wasn't interested in a romantic relationship. She's been having one-night stands for over a decade, she knows what it looks like when someone's not looking for long-term. Her mistake was believing that he was trying to string her along without realizing she knew what he was up to. So she's not upset that he was using her, she's upset that there's a chance she hurt him by allowing it to continue despite knowing something was off.

Eventually I'll do some proper stuff about Ember's early days with the party, and her life in general before the events of the game!! Just gotta finish all the other stuff I have ongoing first 🙃

[lilioopdf]

be here and be holy

pairing: reader x anyone! (no names again :p)

notes: 0.9k words, no warnings, all fluff (i think)

a/n: drafted this in like june…… i was just too lazy to actually write and edit it 😶😶 anyway i think this is an awkward timing to be posting a fic but sem break has arrived and i was finally in the right headspace and mood to write so yay 🎉🎉 if you’re reading this, i wish you a lovely day/night ahead! enjoy! 💗💗

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he’s just ended training, and you’re too far away, seperated by 16 hour flights and weird timezones.

his hair is slicked with sweat and plastered to his forehead as he’s sat on a bench in the changing room, back hunched over his phone, watching the little typing bubble that keeps popping up from your end, waiting for you to send the first text.

someone claps his shoulder as they make their way out, but he cannot be bothered to glance up at them, too busy fixated upon the typing bubble in your chat.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, he sees the text.

“how was training?” you ask, it’s short and simple, but he find himself smiling back at his phone nonetheless as he types back a reply, hoping he doesn’t seem too eager, too hopeful.

too in love.

a drop of sweat slides off his fringe and lands onto his phone screen. he knows he should probably go take a shower first, but he can’t help it— not when it’s you on the other end, asking him how his day was.

someone claps his shoulder as they make their way out, but he can’t even be bothered to look up at them, too busy staring at the typing bubble from your side of the chat.

and then it stops.

a call pops up instead. a video call.

he allows himself a quick second to comb his fingers through his hair in an attempt to look presentable for you before he picks up.

there’s laughter on the other end— must be your friends, he thinks.

he hears you hush them, shooing them out of the room before he hears the sound of a door close. your camera turns on, and he feels himself flush the moment he sees you. you’re so pretty, and he can’t help but stare.

it should be night where you’re at, right? that must be why the lighting’s so dim, why the camera’s so grainy, but it doesn’t explain why you still look so sweet, and as lovely as ever.

“hi,” he breathes out, noticing the way a shy smile makes its way onto your face.

“hi,” you reply, voice soft. you take a moment to register where he’s at, taking in his sweat slicked hair and the clear exhaustion present in his face.

your brows furrow, and you tilt your head, “you haven’t showered?”

he stills, stalling a little before shaking his head bashfully. “no, uh, i thought i’d talk to you first.” he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, watching as you try and hide the knowing look on your face.

neither of you know what to say next. you’re both shy, but you do like each others' company, even if it is made a little awkward at times by accidental longing glances and too long eye contact.

you've both been staring at each other through the phone screen for a while, but you're suddenly jolted out of the moment by knocking on your door.

"are you still talking to him?" he hears a friend of yours call out, and he swears he can hear the laughter they're holding back. he finds it amusing, almost endearing, how your face goes pink, stuttering slightly as you tell them you're almost done.

your friends erupt into laughter in the background, and you sit up in embarrasment, shyness covering your face.

"sorry, that's darla... i'll call you back later, okay? go take a shower and stay safe."

he nods, saying a quick goodbye, wishing you the same. he waits for you to hang up first, hand gripping onto his phone just a little too tightly.

he doesn't notice the older driver standing opposite him, watching as he said his goodbyes to you just a few seconds ago.

"is she pretty?" the other driver asks, eyes fixated upon the younger one, an almost teasing smile om his face.

there's a pause, and your sweet boy registers the way his heart is pounding wildly in his chest as he tries to keep his expression neutral.

"yeah," he replies quietly, cheeks tinged pink as he chews on the inside of his mouth, refraining from saying more. (truth is, he'd like to talk about you. about your laugh, your smile, your kindness, and your wit. but a gym locker room is no place for such a topic, and those are not things he should be thinking about a friend.)

the other driver presses on. "she must be nice, if you're hiding her away this much." there's a teasing lilt in their tone, and he ignores it, wishing he could continue his conversation with you instead.

"she is nice,” he replies, tone coming out a little defensive, ever ready to defend your honour. they give him a knowing look, and he clears his throat, speaking again. "she's kind. sweet."

he averts the gaze of the older driver as they try to read his expression. after a long moment, he feels a strong pat on his back. "good for you, son. i mean it."

there's a meaningful look in the eyes of the older driver, and he almost looks... proud. it looks likes he's refraining from saying more as well.

"you've been performing better." a pause. "you look happier too. good for you," they offer him a small smile. "treat her well, son."

and that is that.

he feels the knot in his chest ease a little. he's careful not to get too ahead of himself— you're only still his friend, after all.

one day, he promises himself. soon.

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© lilioopdf 2024 – please do not plagarise, repost, or translate any of my work on this or other platforms

thank you for reading this far! take care of yourselves and remember to stay hydrated and safe 💗💗

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

fluffy kid!stancest first kiss on glass shard beach would be so cute maybe by the swings or when they first find what would become the stan o war

combining these two together, but 2nd anon PLEASE know your ask got me writing old stancest at first that immediately turned hurt and comfort, so i'll be posting that when i actually finish it udndhdhdu this one is a bit of a rush job, BUT i hope you guys like it! this is my first time writing kid stancest, trying to run my head over how boys just banter and this is the best i could relay lmao. also if ford's internal dialogue isnt as flowery as it ought to be, it's mostly because i do still want it to sound like it's coming from a child, and i imagine Ford's internal dialogue wasn't fully realized until he's at least a littls older, you know?

anyway enough stalling: please enjoy!

~~~

Ford thinks he could stay like this forever.

Sitting on a crate, Stanford watches Stanley draw on the sand with the end of a big stick, planning all their great adventures when they finally get out of this place, the promise of their Big Day of Adventure made them giddy all day, bouncing on the heels of their feet all over the beach until the deck guys they "borrowed" a can of paint from earlier found them, chasing them off and forcing the two of them to take cover. They did, only belatedly realizing they had to come back for their ship since their dream did rely on them fixing up the boat to be in top condition for it to sail. Luckily they didn't take their ship, so the two of them were able to push it back into the alcove they found it, keeping it their own little secret.

Ford looks at it in awe again. In bold letters, "The Stan O' War" stares back at him. Their promise of the future. A future with his brother, forever

"And then— Poindexter are ya listening?!" Stan asks, tapping the stick lightly on Ford's head who swats it away with a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah! I am, I am!"

"Good, cuz you better hear this!" Stan resumes drawing on the sand. Ford looks down, tilting his head quizically.

"Why are we standing on top of the sun?"

"That's an octopus!" Stan points to the pile of squigly lines Ford thought had been the ocean. "See?"

"That's still kinda impossible."

"Aw, shuddap!" Stan scoffs playfully, then proceeds to draw fish tails with long noses and circle ends.  "Of course its possible! This is after I killed it, and we're doin' a victory cheer on top of it!" Stan pumps his fist in the air, and begins chanting, echoing loud across the alcove: "PINES! PINES! PINES! And after—"

"Wait, how did we kill it?"

"I beat it up, duh!"

"What did I do?"

Stan huffs. "You math, science and bored it to death, you big nerd," he says with an annoyed expression, which quickly gives away to snickers as he dodges the fistful of sand Ford throws in his direction, leaving a grainy cloud in its wake. Stan points back at his drawing, at the long nosed fish with lines protruding off the top. Until Ford blinks, and tilts his head again, realizing that the messy scribbles are probably meant to be... "Anyway, after we totally beat this giant octopus monster, all the mermaid babes will be all over us! They'd give us kisses, and hugs, and and–"

Covering his mouth with his hand, Ford snorts loudly. "Stanley... you want to kiss fish ladies?"

An offended look crosses Stan's face, and if it wasn't for the sunburn already staining his and Ford's skin an angry, blistering red, Ford could swear Stan was blushing, his cheeks puffing, brown eyes wide and fists clenching. Cute, Ford thinks, so quickly, he almost doesn't catch it.

But he does.

Just like how his shoulder catches Stan's fists, sending him to more fits of giggling as he goes down.

"Shaddup, shaddup, shut uuuuuuuup," Stan continues his playful assault, clearly trying to not to smile, but Ford's laughter catches him like the infectious bug that went around school three months ago, and his grin stretches wild as he pushes Ford to the ground, and planting himself on Ford's short legs. Ford's hand land on his shoulders, trying and obviously failing at pushing off his stronger brother with all his twelve fingered might, but maybe it's because Ford is laughing too much he's out of breath, chest shaking while he heaves his giggles. Maybe it's the weird but nice heaviness Stan is forcing on him, and Ford counts that as the fifth time this day Stan made him feel that: 'weird but nice.'

Yesterday was seven whole times.

"Get off me, jerk!"

"You're the jerk," Stan argues, catching Ford's hands and pinning them down to the sand, grinning at Ford who's completely caught under him. "You've been making fun of me the whole time!"

"No I wasn't! I think it's cool you wanna kiss fish ladies!"

"They're not fish ladies, Sixer! They're mermaids!" Stan argues, looking a lot like Ford when he exasperatedly explains that solving the daily crossword on the newspaper is not lame, just with the additional large gap between his teeth, bandage on his face, cute puffy cheeks, which almost sends Ford to another laughing fit. "Mermaids are cool! No, they're hot!"

"If you say so," Ford shrugs, feeling the soft grains of sand move against his back. "They'd smell like fish though, but I think you would like that."

"Pfff," Stan lets go and straightens up to blow a raspberry, tilting himself to flop onto the sand next to Ford, moving so his fingers brushed Ford's when at their hips. Sixth. "Like you're any different. I bet you have a lot of weird stuff you wanna kiss too. You're obsessed with your ano– anama—"

"Anamolies."

"Aliens. I bet you wanna kiss aliens."

"No I don't!"

"Yeah, you do!"

"I don't," Ford insists, but he's definitely thought about it. Not in a weird way, of course. He wonders about kissing a lot of things, like growing boys do, like the health developmental sections of science books say so! Girls. Boys sometimes.

Boys most of the time.

A boy, most of the time.

"If you say so," Stan repeats dismissively, stretching his arms over his head while Ford watches behind his glasses. Feeling the sand starting to get to that 'pointy, sticky and annoying' state when someone lays on it, he sits up, eyes landing on the Stan O' War again. Stan follows, quickly sitting up.

"What'cha thinking of?"

"Just wondering the capability of weight distribution on the boat."

"Uh...."

"I wonder if it's actually strong enough to hold us up to sail. We're gonna have to fix that up before we take it to the water, remember? Maybe it's not even built for two people."

The last part came out of his mouth without thinking, and Ford is alarmed with the quick moment of doubt. For a second, their dream seemed a little impossible.

Stan pushes himself up, and runs to the stationed boat.

"Stan? What are you—"

"Keep up, Sixer!" Stan exclaims, grabbing onto the ledge of the boat, and suddenly Ford is running after his brother. All caution thrown out of his system when Stan lifts himself over the edge and on top of the boat's deck effortlessly.

"Stan!"

"Look, Ford, it's fine!" Stan exclaims, arms spread wide and standing victoriously. Ford grabs hold of the ledge, and tries to lift his legs over, only to almost fall off with a "Whoa!"— until Stan's hand latches onto his.

"Hold on," Stan tugs until Ford's body lifts high enough for him to wrap his arms around Ford's shoulders. He grunts, pulling the rest of his twin's body with all his strength before falling onto the deck, Ford landing on top of his legs.

Somehow, they find themselves almost exactly as before, just in reverse, skin still grainy and sticky and hot-red, Ford's chest shaking again but this time it's from panting in the short burst of physical activity. His face close to Stan's, Ford feels a bubbling in his chest, a little tingle all over his skin. One he wants to blame on the summer heat still simmering outside the cave or maybe the sunburn all over his back and torso, but it's not that.

Seventh.

"You're kinda heavy for a stick, Sixer."

Ford punches his shoulder this time, smirking. "Shut up, jerk."

"Now you hate it," Stan comes back smugly, then glances down at the deck. "Hey, look! It can hold the both of us after all!"

Remembering his previous concerns, he looks down on the boat, then raps his knuckles onto the floorboards. It's actually pretty sturdy for how old Ford theorized it to be. That's pretty cool.

"Guess we can cross that out of the stuff we have to fix up," Ford concludes. He pushes his glasses over his nose, thinking deeply again. "Still have a lot of stuff to consider though. Plus, who knows how much bigger we'll get too..." He muses, mostly to himself.

So many to consider... Ford doesn't think even his freakish hands could count all the ways it could go right, or wrong, if it goes anywhere at all... it's kind of big, and open, and Ford thinks it's almost like the ocean itself.

"Eh, don't worry about that stuff so much, Sixer," Stan shrugs, his voice breakjng through Ford's train of thought. Ford realizes he's still very much on Stanley's legs, and maybe it's because all the running, pushing, wrestling they've done all day that completely wrung him out, or maybe it's because the warm bubbling in his chest that overflows and keeps his own legs stuck like sap, but unlike Stan, Ford can't bring himself to move off, move away from Stan. His brown eyes wide, grin with a goofy gap in the teeth and cheeks puffing, Stan looks ready to sail off right then and there.

"As long as you've got me, we can do everything. We're getting out of this place no matter what."

Ford smiles warmly. Somehow he could never get tired doing that around his brother and that's weird. It's nice. His hands find Stan's shoulders, and without thinking, he blurts out:

"Stanley... It wasn't aliens."

"Wait, wha—"

And Ford presses his lips to Stan's. He doesn't really know how to do this. It's kinda gross, with Stan tasting like sand and sweat from rolling around it all day, but so did Ford and getting past that, it just feels good. Almost on instinct, he pulls away panic rising at throat, because Oh no, Stan will think I'm a freak too.

But Stan leans forward too, almost knocking Ford's glasses away and also not knowing what he's doing, but it feels nice. Really, really nice.

Eighth.

Ford thinks he could stay counting those forever.

~~

If you like this send another prompt or a prompt of your own! Hope you liked this anons, be it sufficiently fluffy enough lmao

[copperbadge]

Immediate Writer's Block

Had a comment on another post where I thought I'd probably need more space than the notes in which to respond, so:

constant-state-of-self-discovery Oh I get the envy I feel it right now how the fuck do you manage to write without impassable writers block after 5-9 sentences because I haven't fucking figured it out lol

I do have some advice on this!

I think most writers get blocked from time to time, it's normal and my general strategy is just to wait it out, but if you're frequently blocked after only writing a very little bit, I think the problem is one of two things: either you don't know what you want to achieve with the scene you're writing, or you don't know what should happen next within the scene to achieve that goal. If you frame "I'm blocked" as "I don't have an answer I need" then often you move from just sitting there, sweating and staring at a blank page, to thinking productively about how you're going to get where you're going. It's the difference between not knowing an answer and not knowing an answer but knowing where to look for it.

An invaluable piece of advice for this, which I think I picked up from someone who got it off a National Novel Writing Month messageboard, is "When in doubt, ninjas attack." It's not meant to be literal, you don't need to have ninjas or fight scenes just because you don't know what to do, but it helps to get the creativity flowing again. If you don't know what should happen next, or you know but you're having trouble actually writing the scene, it can be very helpful to induce a moment of uncertainty or surprise -- to have a metaphorical ninja attack. One time I did this literally -- the POV character was just on the road somewhere and I didn't know how to get them from a pastoral country road to their actual destination in an interesting way, so I had them get attacked by highway bandits and have to fight them off, which also allowed me to demonstrate that the character had significant unarmed combat skills. But it can also just be like, two characters who are having a boring conversation can be interrupted by a third person, even just a stranger asking for directions, or there can be, IDK, an explosion, or something goes missing, or etc.

Sometimes it also helps to leave it alone but keep it in your mind and go do something else -- listen to a podcast, take a walk, read a book, not because those things are distracting but because all our inputs eventually feed into our brain and come out as reactions. If you're thinking about your book while you're wandering around a park, something you see in the park might have an impact on it. If you've got YOUR story in mind while reading someone else's, you might be more inclined to look at what they're saying and see what you think of it, how it might play into your work.

And honestly, sometimes you just gotta go past it. I'm working on the next Shivadh novel right now and it opens basically with Simon the chef getting into a spat with his love-interest-to-be over some cheese. He want the cheese, she won't sell him the cheese, so they get off to a very contentious start. But I suck at writing conflict especially when it's basically "A character I like is being pompous and another character I want people to find likable is being stubborn and somewhat unpleasant". I've been stalled on it for a while. But I know where the scene ends up, like I do know what the goal is, so I just...skipped it and went on to writing a scene I like better, where they meet a second time and actually discover each others' identity and that they're about to be forced into the grownup equivalent of a school project. Once I've gotten dug deeper into the story I'll come back and write it, and by then I'll have the benefit of knowing the love interest a bit better.

So yeah -- I think a lot of breaking a writer's block, especially when you don't need rest but are just stumped about what to do, is to twist and look at it from another angle. It's not that you don't know what to write, or don't want to write what you know you have to -- it's that you don't have the correct answer to a question, or you need to leave that part alone to ferment and come back to it later. At least, for me.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Hi! I think Season 5 was a really weird time to invert the love square - it just kind of happens, and the reasons don’t feel very organic, to say the least - I think fandom already has enough to say about it (and hey, you’ve probably talked about it too!)

So if you had to do it (keeping in mind 5 seasons, and canon’s overall structure), where would you invert it? I’ve had this question for a while, and recently arrived to, I’d do it in Miracle Queen, possibly show Marinette or Adrien reconsidering in a post credit scene (or in general, after the scene where they’re all sitting and Marinette goes for Luka). Main reason for me is, Miracle Queen is pretty inconclusive on the shipping aspect - it opens with Adrien being uncertain of his relationship with Kagami, and ends with Adrien still unsure, and Marinette finally accepting Luka.

On the Marinette side, that last part might seem pretty conclusive, but after she suffered a major loss (going with canon’s “Marinette lost Fu” here despite the many problems I have with the way Fu was written), I think the emotional void really couldn’t be properly filled with Luka, and had Chat Noir’s character not gone down the drain after the season finale, he’d be the only real option Marinette can consider even talking to - temp heroes outed, kwamis being glorified toys, barely anyone even knowing Fu and all that. In my ideal world, she would’ve at least moved on from Adrien (wherein canon of course has to insist on the OTP), and I feel Chat Noir fills the void very naturally.

On the Adrien side, I think him interrupting the kiss was a sign of him not knowing what he wants out of a relationship in general - he seemed to be moving on from Ladybug in Hearthunter, and the Ladynoir in Miracle Queen to me felt much closer to them being together against the world (which is… exactly what the episode says out loud), not falling in love. I don’t think Kagami would want a relationship with Adrien after that whole mess (and that did end up being the case), so the closest non Ladybug option would be Marinette. So not a random “I love Marinette because she’s so nice and she kissed me after I pranked her” (canon please 🙄), but more of a “Marinette has always been so nice to me, instead of bothering Ladybug even more I’ll at least try getting a little closer to Marinette” and things develop from there on out.

But Season 4 threw my hope and dreams onto a burning landfill so that was cool. Anyways, how would you structure it? This got a bit long haha

Don't apologize, that was an interesting and quite good argument for flipping the crushes at Miracle Queen. I hadn't really thought about it before, but that would have been a much more satisfying way to shake things up in season four instead of waiting until season five and then speed running the flip only to immediately undo Marinette's side of the flip all within six episodes. I think that your alternate season four could have worked, though it would require season four to really lean into the ending of season three instead of largely ignoring it.

Since you asked where I'd do it if I had to flip the crushes, I'll give you my thoughts, but first I want it put on the record that I hate the idea of both crushes flipping mid-show. One crush flipping feels reasonable, but both? At the same time? That's really hard for me to buy, especially since you'd have to do it pretty quickly given the way canon is structured. You can't drag things out for episodes at a time. Most things take, at most, two episodes.

I'm also not sure what the point of flipping the crushes is. It feels less like narrative progression and more like a stalling tactic since the love square will only get together if one crush flips. Both crushes? Same square, different angle (I jokingly call it the love diamond.)

And yet, canon actually managed to pull off a very solid reverse crush setup. If season five had started off with the crushes flipped, then I would have totally believed it. Marinette just had her crush on Adrien cost her all of the miraculous. That's a very good way to kill a crush just like finding out Chat Noir's identity is a very good way to banish her fears from that event, allowing her to have the confidence to stay with Adrien post-reveal.

Similarly, Adrien just spent a whole season being sad about Ladybug not giving him enough attention, leading up to an episode where Marinette saw that he was suffering and reached out (if only because of magic). I absolutely believe that he'd start falling for Marinette and be less upset with Ladybug post-reveal now that he knows that she has been supporting him all along. He was just looking for support on the wrong side of the mask.

Instead of taking advantage of that setup, canon delayed the flip a few episodes and made it wholly unbelievable. They really give us an episode where Ladynoir got married and had children, followed it up with the episode where the crushes flipped, and then tried to convince us that Marinette was the one who hadn't really fallen in love with Chat Noir. Marinette. The girl whose deepest desire is apparently marriage and children with Chat Noir. But her love isn't real? Really? Yet Adrien is really over Ladybug?

Bull. Shit.

Jubilation is not that setup you go with if Adrienette is your goal. It's the setup for Ladynoir.

Anyway, back to your question! As I detailed above, season five's intro episodes feel like the most obvious place to flip the square. I'd also be interested to see someone do it at Miracle Queen like you discussed, though it would be much less straight forward than season five, making it a better fit for a fanfic than canon in my opinion as I think you'd be hard pressed to do it well within the confines of canon's structure.

My other top choice is Origins because I am a love diamond purist. I think that it's the easiest way to fix a lot of canon's issues. For example: Marinette hanging magazine clippings of her friend/crush all over her walls for all to see with the full knowledge that she actually knows this guy? Kinda weird. Why are you writing it like she has a celebrity crush and not a "real person" crush?

Marinette hanging magazine clippings of her secret hero partner all over her walls? Totally understandable. It's not like she can act like it's a "real person" crush without giving herself away or looking unhinged. Plus how else is she supposed to get pictures of him? It's not like she can take some of her own. That would lead to a lot of awkward questions! She'd also have no reason to think that he'd ever see her shrine. 😈

[dancing--lights]

I posted this a few days ago to ao3, but wanted to post it here for anyone that might want to read it. Neve's perspective is so interesting to pick apart, I had a blast. Maybe I'll have to write more in the future.

Summary: Something short and sweet set between romance scenes.

Characters/Pairings: Neve x Rook

Warnings: Some spoilers for Neve's questline and Veilguard in general

It was raining in Dock Town- a slow, steady drizzle- not enough to completely obscure the street I was watching, but enough to get a person walking from one paved corner to another good and drenched. Lucky for me, and even luckier for my coat, I had made it to shelter and the Cobbled Swan just before it started coming down. The tavern’s well-lit, warm interior was positively cheery in contrast to the dreariness of the docks just outside the window, even at this hour, and the quiet murmur of its last few patrons floated up softly towards me from somewhere further in, past the bar. I had spent the last hour or so at a table near the front so I could keep an eye out for… what? Maybe it was habit, or maybe I just wanted a view of the water. I wasn’t sure yet.

It was late, and I should have been back at the Lighthouse already, making some sort of attempt at sleep, but that seemed about as fruitful as a targetless stakeout, so here I was, eyes on the dimly lit street, mind running through leads that led to nowhere, nursing a barely touched drink. I had started the day running errands, with no intention of getting wrapped up in anything more complicated than checking in on the apartment I hadn’t been to in weeks, but I had overheard a stall owner in the market inquire to another about a missing friend, a hushed fear in their voice, and that was that. It wasn’t the first uneasy whisper I’d heard in the last several days, and I knew in my gut it wouldn’t be the last. Aelia was back. And I needed to find her.

A movement near the docks interrupted my musing. It was the first sign of life I’d seen in a while that hadn’t just been a cat looking for food or a place to wait out the rain. Whoever it was either had a confidence in their ability to handle themselves that they could hopefully back up, or they were foolish enough to be out in this part of the city, this late, alone. They made their way slowly to the end of one of the docks, with no apparent purpose. I could make out the outline of what was probably a spear or staff strapped to their back, and a bottle held loosely in one hand. A glint of blonde glimmered briefly in the lamplight, and, suddenly, I knew who it was. I should have been surprised, but I wasn’t. 

I left a few coins on the table, and abandoned the warmth of the Swan for the rain slick streets. The downpour was loud enough to dampen the sound of my footsteps, not that I was trying to be quiet, not really, but her back was to me, and she couldn’t see me approach. I heard the sharp ‘pop’ of a bottle being opened. The set of her shoulders seemed relaxed and at ease, through the drizzle, but I made note that her staff rested unassuming at her side, easily within reach, it’s wicked point a fair warning to any that might think a lone reveler on the dock an easy mark. She knew Minrathous. It was her city, too, after all. And, yes, she could handle herself. Most of the time anyway.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

I called out to her from a few feet away, and she turned, the bottle halfway to her lips. To her credit, she did look surprised. So, not checking up on me, then. A coincidence.

“Neve? What are you doing here?” She was all wide-eyed sincerity, and genuine pleasure at having run into me. Can’t say it was something I was used to. I could tell she’d already had a few, her face a bit flush in the lamplight, her voice carrying the slightest slur. She had made herself comfortable on the edge of the dock, both legs dangling just above the dark water.

“I do live here, you know. I think I should ask you the same thing.”

“Just… enjoying the comforts of Dock Town,” she made a vague gesture with the bottle, as if the charm of the rotting planks and steady downpour should be obvious to anyone, and gave a wry smile.

“It has its moments.”

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Well, you didn’t need me today, so I decided to check up on some things in the city, make sure my apartment was still intact, track down another book for Emmrich I’d been meaning to find him, finish a few things that needed doing. Of course, that isn’t what ended up happening, but you can’t fault me for trying.” I shrugged.

“You found something?”

“I got sidetracked.”

“Aelia.”

 It wasn’t a question. I figured it didn’t really need an answer. She knew me.

“Now it’s your turn,” I needed to change the subject, “what are you doing here? You’re clearly not tracking down any leads.” I nodded pointedly at the bottle in her hand. 

“Cida invited me to her show at the Lamplighter tonight. I couldn’t say no to her, now, could I?”

I smiled knowingly. “She has asked after you, and more than once, since we found Damas. Maybe she’ll write her next ballad about you.”

“You think I’m ballad-worthy?” She arched a brow and flashed a crooked grin. But I wasn’t giving her that. Not yet.

“And the wine?” I asked.

“Oh, this,” she looked down at the bottle in her hand, as if noticing it for the first time, ”the bartender handed it to me as I was leaving. ‘Courtesy of the boss,’ he said.”

“Seems you’ve made quite the impression.”

“Probably helps that I’m on your good side.”

“Who said you’re on my good side?”

“Well, I’ve yet to see a side of you I didn’t like.”

“Stick around long enough, I may surprise you.”

“I hope so.”

That crooked smile again. Trouble.

“Care to join me?” She patted the dock beside her.

“Why not?” I sighed, and lowered myself to sit next to her, the feel of the wood familiar as an old friend, “we’re off the job.”

“Are either of us ever really ‘off the job?’” 

“Fair point.” 

She passed me the wine. A nice red. Not cheap. Damas was apparently feeling generous. There was a slight saltiness from the droplets of rain that had gathered on the glass. It added to the flavor. 

I could feel her watching me as I pressed my lips to the bottle. I kept my own eyes on the water. I didn’t need to look at her to see her expression. It was how she looked most of the time. Warm. Honest. The hint of a smile, always ready and waiting. Nothing to hide, and everything to lose. There seemed to be a lot on offer there. No catch. Not for the first time, I wondered how someone with a face like that had made a habit of beating someone like Varric at wicked grace. Seemed unfair, somehow.

I gestured at the water, “Contemplating going for a swim?” This was, perhaps, a low blow. But I needed her to look at something other than me right now.

She chuckled, “Are you offering me lessons?”

”Why? So I can explain to the rest of the team how you drowned on my watch?”

“You can’t be that bad of a teacher.”

“No, but you might be that bad of a swimmer.”

That got a real laugh out of her. I did like hearing her laugh.

“True enough.”

“Okay, so… just contemplating then?”

She was out here alone, avoiding the Lighthouse, same as me, for a reason. I wasn’t about to push, but I wasn’t going to just ignore it either.

“I guess you could call it that.”

“And how’s that going for you?”

She pursed her lips, seeming to consider what to say or how to say it. She was good at asking questions. Not so good at being the subject of them.

I pressed a bit. “You know, for someone notoriously practiced at making hard decisions without thinking too much about them, you’re awfully pensive sometimes.”

She almost winced. “It’s… situational.”

“I noticed.”

“How observant,” she was trying to shrug it off, “what are you, some sort of detective?” 

And you’re not nearly as flippant as you act. I didn’t say it though. I’d give her that one. I just waited.

She looked away, towards the water. “It should be Varric out here. Not me.”

Ah, that. I was wondering when this might come up. Lace and I had talked about it, of course, but Rook… neither of us really knew how to broach the subject with her. She seemed to be dealing with it in her own way, throwing herself into taking up where he left off. And none of us could claim to be particularly good at talking through our feelings. We had a job to do.

But, she was right. It should have been Varric. Or no- it shouldn't be anyone. But because of power hungry tyrants like Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, it had to be someone. And because of Solas, it had to be Rook.

“Varric brought you on to this job for a reason,” I turned to her. This was important. “He knew what he was doing, and who he needed to help him do it.”

“Right,” she answered. Very convincing.

“Rook-“

“It’s alright,” she gave me a reassuring smile. It was more frustrating than helpful.

I tried a different approach. “Lace said you and Varric acted like you’d known each other forever, that you were good for each other.“

“Yeah…”

“She said you were the missing piece that Varric had been looking to put on the board for years, and when he found you, it finally seemed like finishing this job, that stopping Solas, was possible.”

“Well, that was kind of her.”

“You know Harding.”

We were both quiet for a while. Both thinking. She took a long pull of the wine, then turned to me.

“Look… I want to be here. I want to stop the gods. I signed up for this.”

“I know.”

“But sometimes I just…”

“Need to sit in the rain and drink straight from the bottle for a bit?”

She smiled, “Right.”

“I’ve been there.”

Quiet again. The rain had slowed. I heard a cat mewl mournfully somewhere behind us.

“Rook…?”

“I’m here.”

“Varric was right about you.”

She smiled again. It was alright. She’d be alright.

“Thanks. I guess if he was right about you, odds are he was right about me too, yeah?”

“Or he was wrong about us both.”

“Well, at least we’re together.”

Our eyes met then, and I should have looked away, but I didn’t. A question hung, stretched out in the space between us. I thought of wisp hunts and almost kisses. Of “good things happen,” and them maybe even happening without a catch, for once. Of closing the distance from me to her, and making up for that “almost.” I also thought about boarding one of the nearby ships and sailing somewhere very far away. Wish I could say these were all just passing thoughts.

She looked away first this time.

“Well… better get back, huh? Maybe at least try to sleep. Got a job to do, and all that.”

“Sure.”

Another close call. And I didn't know whether I was relieved, or disappointed. Probably both.

We made our way back to the eluvian in the Shop, neither of us alone this time. Back to the job.

I could see myself getting used to this.

[lyricfulloflight]

20 questions for writers

tagged by @ongreenergrasses Thank you so much - I will answer even though I haven't posted any new fic in ages. I am still writing though... slowly and sporadically, but still writing.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

27

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

351,600

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I have written for Cherik/X-men and The Old Guard (Joe x Nicky).

I am currently working on 2 Buddie fics in the 9-1-1 fandom, but haven't posted anything to ao3 yet.

I also have 3 old Klaroline fics still up on fanfiction.net that I sometimes think I should move to ao3 but haven't yet.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

An Omega's Worth - Cherik, regency ABO fic. WIP that I am determine to finish someday!

The Consequence of Hiding - Cherik, AU but they still have powers. Completed and over 100k!

At First Glance - Cherik. Complete. AU. Written for Secret Mutant Madness. Fluffy and sweet.

Airwaves - Cherik, Complete. AU no powers, set at a university radio station. Completed for a Big Bang with lovely fanart by @ireneadonovan

Right In Front of Me - The Old Guard (Joe x Nicky). Incomplete (and honestly barely started...gosh I should really get back to this one)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to respond to all comments.

I haven't been great at it lately because I'm not actively writing, but if I'm actively writing I always reply and I am happy to chat about my writing on tumblr too!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hollow.

It's a short Cherik fic, though mostly a character delve into Charles during Xmdofp. Someone asked me to write Dark!Charles and this was the result. It's very angsty and different from anything else I've written.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

It's Just A Summer Thing.

It has the big happy ending. And though the fic does have some angst in it, I wrote it to be fun and sweet - it's set at a summer soccer camp (except the last chapter) and its supposed to be cute.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really.

I've had a couple critical comments, but not 'hate'.

9. Do you write smut?

I have, yes.

I don't always, but I think I write smut well when I do decide it fits within the story I want to tell.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Sort of? Once?

A Man Apart is probably the closest thing I have written that's a crossover. It's still Cherik, but Erik is an android, inspired by Michael Fassbender's roles in the Alien franchise.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I know somebody asked me once about translating one of my fics years ago, but I don't know if that happened - they didn't follow up with me once I gave my permission, so I assume the translation was not compelte.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes!

Yet another fic that isn't complete (we were so close and its my fault it stalled). The lovely @msfbgraves and I co-wrote 'Someday I'll Find You', another Cherik AU.

14. What is your all time favorite ship?

Cherik.

I've written the most for them and for the longest. I still go back to my old fics and my WIPs all the time. I am still actively thinking about An Omega's Worth and how I can finish it. I reblog Cherik content daily on tumblr. I can't really image not being in the Cherik fandom in some capacity.

Buddie is my current obsession and I hope they are as long lasting as Cherik, but Cherik is still my ultimate love.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'd love to finish Someday I'll Find You, because we were so close, but I don't know if it will happen. Even if I continue I don't know if @msfbgraves would want to keep writing it after all these years!

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think character voice and dialogue are my strengths. My writing tends to be very character focused and I hope I write characters that feel believable and close enough to canon not to feel OOC.

I can also be funny at times.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plotting. I don't like to sit down and plot things out.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language during a fic?

I prefer not to. There are so many nuances in language and phrasing, its hard enough to get it right in my own language, let alone one I don't know. I have include short sentences in other languages (German for example), but I ask other people to make sure the translation makes sense if I can.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Klaroline from the Vampire Diaries

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Aside from the fics I've already mentioned, I will give a shout out to one of my lesser kudoed fics: To Build A Home.

It's a Joe x Nicky early days fic from the The Old Guard fandom. It has truly incredible art from @notablogtobefollowedunless. And I think its one of my best fics in terms of action. As well as showing how the bond of trust was built between the two main characters.

I am tagging: @ikeracity, @pinkoptics, @lindstromm, @gerec, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @exhuastedpigeon, @akasanata

[chipthekeeper]

Ranking Velcinta moments by how insane they make me feel, a(n overly) comprehensive list

As promised, here's my way too detailed ranking of all 18-ish of their moments. This (predictably) got obnoxiously long toward the end, so venture under the cut if you actually care and/or don't mind a lot of scrolling.

18. Valley One (Ep. 6)

I'm relatively sane about this. Except when I think about how they probably slept in that little hut the night before. Also when I think about how this is one of the very few shots in which they're both visible and (relatively) in focus.

17. "No farewells tonight." (Ep. 5)

Mostly was insane about this when the episode first came out and I was SO. FUCKING. WORRIED. that they were gonna die in the next one.

16. "What are they doing?" (Ep. 5)

Girlfriends who scowl together stay together (please Tony Gilroy I'm begging you).

15. Feeding the dray (Ep. 5)

The fact that Cinta is smiling here is what makes me most crazy. Also I just adore this flash of simple domesticity with them. Ahh, what could have been....

14. "Have you heard from Cinta?" (Ep. 7)

Vel not being able to look Kleya in the eye when she asks about Cinta makes me crazy mostly for the whole "Vel/Kleya exes" plot but of course this whole part had me jumping out of my seat on first watch.

13. "The rebellion comes first. We take what's left." (Ep. 9)

VEL FINDING STRENGTH IN CINTA'S WORDS AND USING THEM TO HELP MON WITH HER DOUBTS TOO I'M !!!!!

(went all-caps way before I thought I would, maybe this one should be higher....)

12. Into the smoke (Ep. 12)

She looks so worried when Cinta isn't where she's supposed to be and then she sprints INTO the melee while everyone else is running AWAY. I'M NOT FINE!!!!

11. At the campfire (Ep. 4)

I swear to y'all that the first time I watched this episode and saw them sitting so close I was like "oh. hey" fully intending to ship them even if that was literally all we got. And then holy fucking shit we got everything I was too afraid to ask for. So this moment always has a special place in my heart.

10. "What's she doing?" (Ep. 4)

It. Makes. Me. CRAZY. That the first time they share a scene together, they're literally always in the same frame.

CRAZY.

Like....they've been connected from the VERY beginning, even if the show revealed them being together rather slowly. Also it's everything to me that the first time we see Cinta it's Taramyn asking her what Vel is up to bringing a new guy in. Because if anyone would know, it would be her.

9. "Stay focused, Clem." (Ep. 5)

All of the territorial Vel stuff is great to me but I especially love this moment. First of all Cinta's little smirk. And also it's just so....idk it's a quiet moment of contemplation and probably anxiety but we can't not take a second to tell Clem to back off.

I'm combining this with the "you can dress yourself" bit too because that moment just makes me laugh with how Vel's always in the background watching and then immediately jumps up to give Clem the business and use his scuffle with Skeen as an excuse to mark her territory.

8. "Closet?" "Empty." (Ep. 12)

That bit of dialogue made my gay little self so happy and then they went and did the whole "that's blood" "it's not mine" thing and I'll never recover. Vel being so concerned that she won't even let Cinta keep packing, but then at the very end she's a little impressed/turned on??? 10/10 no notes. (okay I have one note and that's "you're really just going to leave me hanging like that for two years?????" but that's a different post)

7. "Get down!" (Ep. 6)

Truly one of my favorite scenes in the whole show is when Vel almost loses her shit at the top of the dam. The tension is insane, her fear is PALPABLE, and I absolutely love that it's Cinta just calling her out for stalling and then yelling at her that breaks her out of it.

But the thing that makes me feel most crazy about this scene is this:

Someone please explain to me WHY Cinta makes the jump while looking directly at Vel. EXPLAIN IT TO ME. Or else I will just continue to believe it's because part of her is scared up there too and looking at Vel is what helps her take the leap. That is a crazy thought -- I'm pretty sure she's fine -- but if it's not that then I don't get why she's even facing that way??

6. This (Ep. 8)

THE MUSIC. THE FADE. THE SORROW. I like literally can't even talk about this one. But it does make me feel a lot how obvious it is that Vel's thoughts are soooooooooo far from the fight here:

While at the same time there's not a thought in Cinta's head about her:

Breaks my fucking heart.

5. "No. She didn't tell me." (Ep. 5)

Whew. This moment. For a while I was mostly happy about this moment because it was just one more piece of evidence that they were together before that was fully confirmed.

But then my headcanon brain took over while I was writing my multichapter fic and it has been fucking me up ever since. Because I'm always going to wonder if all their drama was always going to happen the way it did or if Vel betraying Cinta's trust as a partner was some kind of breaking point.

Is that probably just me? Yes. Does it matter? Not to this ranking.

4. "She's already sharin' a blanket if that's what you're wonderin'." (Ep. 5)

I was!!! I was wonderin'!!!!! And I will forever use this phrase as a euphemism for being a lesbian.

What I would not give........to experience this line and this shot for the first time again. Or at least know what I sounded like giving a joyous shout.

3. "Tell me you'll be alright." (Ep. 6)

This is the one that I would probably sound the most insane trying to talk about out loud. It would be a lot of me like verbally keysmashing and somehow going "!!!!!!" out loud.

The hand-hold that saved my life? The EMOTION in their eyes when they look at each other??? Vel starting to go in for the goodbye kiss right in front of the hostages' salad but then just not????????

Fuck.

FUCK!!!!!!!

2. "Come away from the window." (Ep. 12)

I have to start by talking about Vel's cute little sad grin in this scene when she's like "nice to see you too" and Cinta like glares back at her. That made me feel crazy enough but then this whole scene that I want to say I can't even put into words even though I have in fact already done it.

The desperation on Vel's part is what kills me. Not that she's desperate for attention or love or whatever people always try to pin on her here (and of course it is that to some degree) but that she's desperate to keep Cinta from losing herself. She's so desperate but all she can do is ask. All she can do is hope Cinta will turn around and take a break. And she does.

BUT WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENS AFTER THAT TONY GILROY?!

I have never screamed so loud about a scene just ending.

Whatever, it gave me something to write and I enjoyed doing that.

1. "You love me because I show you what you need to see." (Ep. 8)

And here we are. The scene that has taken up space in my brain more than any other single thing since I saw it. I've been over it so many times. Watching and taking notes, staring at the gifs, studying the screencaps, trying to wrap my head around every little line and gesture and movement and emotion. I've spent hours on it, and I still find myself coming back to think about it and wondering if I've truly understood it all.

Just getting them reunited after Aldhani was such a relief (even though it was jarring at first to just see Cinta and be like "how the fuck did you get here?"). But then the conversation just knocked me on my ass.

"Haven't we been apart long enough?" YES YOU HAVE!!

"We take what's left." NOOOO TAKE IT ALL

"That's cold...even for you." Stabbing me in the face would be less painful.

And then...hearing the words "you love me" from one woman to another woman in a Star Wars show....not a book, not a comic...a show. Truly meant everything to me. I was so fucking happy to hear those words that I couldn't even process how goddamn sad the rest of it was until later. Once I did I had a stomachache for an entire week. I have one again right now.

And then it ends with the most fucking beautiful hand-hold and yet another tiny look that makes me feel crazy in and of itself (which I've done a whole post on by itself), and despite my broken heart I have hope.

If I am ever able to watch this scene and not feel seventeen emotions at once, it's over for me.

Easy number one.

[your-averagewriter]

Follow You.

Summary/request: I would like to request an Oli Sykes x F!reader, ( can she be younger than him?) where they are in a semi secrete relationship ( like you have to really stan the group/him to know that because they are so lowkey). Oli/BMTH has been on tour for a while now and reader starts missing him a lot so she decides to surprise so to make sure it doesn't get spoiled she decides to buy her own ticket. So she has to stand in the queue, get through security and stuff like that. Some fans recognized her and asked for some pictures but she asked them to not post it until after the show. She also got distracted by the merch that she also bought and realized that now she has to stand at the barricade in the far side. And Oli is so shocked for a moment but he introduced her in a really cute way and he also sang follow you with her on stage and I'll leave the rest to you 🙂☺️

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: swearing, kissing

-

-

“I miss you.” I whine through the phone, laying on my bed.

“I miss you too, darlin’.” He replies and I imagine him pacing around his changing room preparing for the show. “But we’re over half way through the tour now.” He tries to assure.

“Yeah, but the tour is really long! There’s loads of shows left.” I say, frowning but then I get an idea during the short silence. There’s still tickets for some of his shows and if they aren’t then I’m sure I could get a ticket anyway - being Oli’s girlfriend comes with a few perks, one being front row tickets to their shows.

“I’m sorry, love, but I’ve gotta go - the stage hand just came in and said it’s five minutes till we’re on.” He says but I can’t really contain my smile.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine.” I quickly reassure. “I’ve gotta go too.” I say, smiling.

“Okay, I’ll call you after?” He asks and I check my watch.

“Tomorrow?” I ask, sweetly. “It’s already 1:00 am here.” I chuckle.

“Shit. Okay, get some sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, you too, love. Bye.” I hang up and immediately grab my laptop. I sign into ticketmaster and click through the different gigs, there’s one tomorrow which I couldn’t get to so I choose one about a week later. There’s no standing tickets left so I quickly call Dave, one of their manager/finacial guys who I’m friends with.

“Hey, could you get me a standing ticket to that America show I sent to you?”

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

I drag my suitcase behind me as I leave the airport. The flight was long but I was sat by myself and just listened to some good music (it might have been Bring Me The Hoirzon because I really miss Oli but that’s not a necessary detail). I get into a taxi and make my way to the hotel I’m staying at, it’s not high end but I’m certainly not sleeping on the streets.

I haven’t checked my phone since I got on the plane as I was a bit stressed out because of all the baggage and airport stuff but I switch it back on and see countless missed calls from Oli.

Sitting in the back of the taxi I call him back. I keep it cool and don’t tell him about how I’m in America now.

The show is in a couple of days so I spend my spare time exploring America, making the most of the time I have here.

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

Finally, it’s the day of the show and I get to the venue about 30 minutes before doors open and their were a surprising amount of people already here. But on the way I get distracted by the merch stall, obviously I had to go over to it and check it out. The young guy working there passes me the multiple items of merch I request and I hand him over the cash I owe for them. I get back in the queue and try to stuff all my products in my bag but I can’t fit them all in so I have to put on both the BMTH T-Shirt and the hoodie on top. I manage to get the rest in my bag but I see a couple of women (probably inin their early 20s) looking at me, or at least I think they are. After a few more minutes they come over to me with big smiles.

“Hey, you’re (y/n), right?” One of them asks and I nod.

“The one and only.” I chuckle.

“Can we get a photo?” The other asks.

“You want a photo… with me?” I ask, confused but they just nod eagerly. “Okay then.” I chuckle and they stand next to me. I wrap my arms around their shoulders as they take a couple of selfies.

“You’re so cool.” One of them says.

“What are your names? Seeing as you know mine.” They tell me their names: Hannah and Vivienne although she prefers Viv. “I love your eyeliner by the way!” I point out Hannah’s makeup. “How do you do that?” I ask, impressed.

I exchange numbers with them so that they can send me the photos.

“If you’re gonna post the photo please could you not post it until after the show?”

“Sure, but why?” Viv asks but Hannah gasps, interrupting her.

“Oli doesn’t know that you’re here!” She exclaims and I only smile in response.

We stand in the queue together for a while before doors open and we enter the venue but then we split up. I surprisingly meet a couple more people who ask for photos with me. I’ve never really been asked for a photos before so it was a bit weird.

Finally though I get to a good space (near the front like I planned) and I enjoy the support bands especially A Day To Remember because I'm secretly a big fan of theirs. I dance along and jump around and even mosh a little bit and I have so much fun but then, disappointingly, their set ends. But on a more positive note, that means BMTH will be on soon.

It gets too hot for the hoodie I bought earlier so I attempt to stuff it in my bag but before then I see one of their stage hands that travels around on your with them so I walk over to him with a smile and ask him if I can pop back stage to store my merch. He agrees as he knows me fairly well but I ask him not to tell Oli I'm here and he just smirks at me.

I head back to the floor, hands free and I stand on the far right of the stage at the barrier (much to my delight). I check out the BMTH top I bought earlier and it fits really nicely, it makes my figure look great but it's not really tight.

I wait patiently at the barrier not being able to contain my smile, thinking of the point when Oli sees me. But all the other fans at the barrier must be big BMTH fans too so they're also smiling - I blend in.

A few moments later and graphics start appearing on the board behind where the bands play. And the intro to Can You Feel My Heart? Starts playing and along with the rest of the fans I go a little crazy. I look over and see that a couple of other members see me in the crowd but I raise a finger to my lips signaling for them to not say anything.

A couple of songs later and Oli makes his way off the stage to walk across the barrier which isn't a rare thing, I've seen countless videos of him interacting closely with the fans at the front. I watch carefully and clap as he approaches where I am in the crowd.

He looks straight at me as he makes his way along the barriers and our eyes meet. Smiling at him I watch as his face lights up even more than it had before. He looks shocked which makes me chuckle but he quickly snaps out of it and jogs towards me.

His smile matches my along with a face of relief. He presses his forehead against mine and wraps his arms around my neck. I place a kiss on his lips quickly and a whispered confession.

"I missed you so much." I whisper to him but I can tell by his eyes he heard me.

It's as if the crowd's melted away and it's just us now but the crowd is going crazier than ever tonight.

"Come on." He beckons quietly by my ear so that I can hear him.

"Go up?" I ask confused, this was not part of the plan but he just nods. "Okay then." I say and he calls (with the help of a couple kind fans) lifts me up over the barrier and I end up in a bridal style carry.

I bury my face in his neck, embarrassed.

"Oli, put me down." I say as he carries me to the stage.

"C'mon, darlin'." He says with a toothy smile I simply can't resist.

He climbs up onto stage, somehow still carrying me in his arms but we make it to the center of the stage.

I chuckle nervously as I look out on the arena full of people, fans cheering for Oli. He puts me down gently but keeps his arm wrapped around my shoulders.

"This… is (y/n), some if you may know her…" He trails off, placing a kiss on my cheek. "If you didn't you do now. She's…" I expect him to say girlfriend or partner but the rest of his sentence shocks me. "The love of my life." He announces to the hundreds of thousands of people and I look at him slightly shocked. "And I haven't seen her for weeks, months even." He says speaking to the audience but it feels like he's just speaking to me. "For this next song I want you to sing along with us as loud as you can." He looks to me with a sparkle in his eyes and I rest my head on his chest. "This song is called Follow You." He says and cheers erupt again.

The intro to the song starts playing and I look at him, nothing but adoration in my eyes. There is truly no one I'd rather spend my life with than this man and I couldn't be more glad that he feels the same.

He starts rocking slowly holding onto me and starts singing the song. Obviously I know the words to the song, I know all their songs but I don't sing along until he prompts me to with the lowering of the mike to my height.

I look at him doubtfully but he reassures me with his eyes so I start singing gently into the mike. This is definitely one of the best moments of my life.

In a short instrument only section of the song he turns around slightly and places one of his hands on my shoulders and one on my waist. I look at him confused as he starts to slow dance with me but I relax into it, resting my arms around his neck, draped over his shoulder and laying my head on his chest.

"I love you." I says and I smile.

"I love you too." I say and once again forget the crowd are even there.

At the end of the song I'm snapped out of the trance and look back at the crowd, the numerous phone lights and recording cameras that litter the audience. It's quite harsh to look at so I just look at Oli.

"(y/n) (l/n), everyone." He says, releasing me from his arms like a presentation. I smile meekly as the audience cheers and screams, it is overwhelming but in a good way.

"Thank you, everyone for letting this be such a special show and letting (y/n) be here as well." He says, sounding like it's the end of the show but this is only the fourth or fifth song.

"We'll be right back." He says before lovingly dragging me backstage. "You're fucking incredible." He says to me, once his mike is discarded. "I can't believe you." He says wrapping his arms around me, leaving little space for breathing. "Traveling to America, sneaking into one of our shows." He mock chastises.

"You know you love me." I say, my voice slightly muffled my his chest.

"I do, maybe a little too much, darlin'."

-

AN: I hope you enjoyed reading!

I loved the request, if any of you guys wanna request things like BMTH or similar then go for it!

[andinthedarknessbindthem]

Dwalin X Reader - Arguement

This is based on a 'Sickeningly Sweet Relationship Bingo Card' that I found and forgot to save. So if I find that post, I'll add it here!

I'm a bit rusty since I haven't written since 2019, so please feel free to send requests or comments on anything I need to change! Thank you and much love! <3

✿ Words: 1,037

✿ Themes: Kinda(?) Angst, Fluff

✿ Prompt: From bickering to makeouts

✿ Posted: 2/12/23

Something had been off with Dwalin the last few days and you had yet to find out why. He first had asked you to find him a sack. When you questioned him, he said something about needing to tote some things around. Then he asked you to pull out his winter cloak, saying it was for the upcoming cold season. Then on top of that, you could hear him late at night, sharpening his once dusty axe’s. He was up to something.

You tried and tried again to approach him about the subject, but he just kissed your forehead gently and told you the same excuses.

That same morning, he had asked you to back his bag for a few-day hunting trip that he hurriedly planned in a few days. Questioning him again, Dwalin dipped down and placed a loving kiss on your lips and left you standing in the doorway. You dumbly obliged to his wishes and reluctantly let him go through the door. 

You packed up his bag with dried meats, loaves of bread, and other goods. Once you were finished, you decided to make use of the rest of your day and head to the markets. Maybe you could persuade him with his favorite dinner? You scoured the stalls for hours, trying to find the key ingredients. You had spent quite the coin at the end of the day, but you wanted to make Dwalin something special to boost his mood and maybe convince him to tell you what was happening.

Once you arrived home from the markets though, your heart dropped. His bag and axes were gone, along with a few other key items. You threw your basket on the ground and slammed the door behind you, quickly running towards the gate leading out of town.

You nearly tripped as you ran through the busy part of the settlements to find your betrothed. Your brain was running wild with many conflicting thoughts of anger and fear.

How long had he been gone? Too long. He’s probably too far by now.

Maybe he’s just going hunting? With his axes? No.

Did he plan on leaving you? He wouldn’t! He couldn’t. 

Once I find him I’m going to tear him a new one.

By the good grace of Mahal, you finally caught him as he was just passing through the gates to leave.  

Rage blinded you as you shoved his shoulder to get his attention. He didn’t even falter, “When were you going to tell me you were leaving? Once you came back?” Your voice was filled with venom, but there was a small shake of despair to your words. 

His body did a half-turn in your direction, a sorrowful but stern look on his face as he gazed over everything but your own eyes. He turned back towards the forest with a shake of his head and continued walking. “Aye, go back home. This is no business of a woman.” His tone was calm but commanding. 

You blinked a few times, your heart felt frozen with how cold he was acting toward you. "You thick-headed oaf! Don't you dare talk to me that way! I know this isn’t because of me being a woman." You hissed, following after him.

“I can’t keep ye safe outside of these walls, (Y/N).” He began, slowing his walk to a complete stop. He still wouldn’t face you, “I cannot promise yer protection.”

“I am not useless, Dwalin. I can help! You know I can handle myself in a fight!” Your voice betrayed you, you couldn’t help as the sadness overpowered your fury.

“No!” He puffed out his chest as he turned towards you now. “You will not follow me.” He demanded. If you hadn’t known Dwalin, you probably would have backed down there. But you knew him well, too well.

“Kakhafu durh 'umalul sakh mi mê!” You seethed the words through your teeth. He let out a large sarcastic laugh at you. (The back side of a troll is a more pleasing sight than you.)

“Like yer one to talk!” Dwalin scoffed and crossed his arms, eyes blazing down at you. ”Me asnân tada Mahal duhû kansu tah.”  (You are proof that Mahal has a sense of humor.)

You took a step up to him now. “Sigin'adadmêzu kasat gairurukhs.” You said in a matter-of-fact tone. To the outside eye, it would almost seem as though you both were about to kill each other. But no one dared to step in if they saw you both. (Your grandfather was a goblin.)

He lowered his arms to his sides again, taking the last step between the both of you and pressing your chests together. Challenging him, you continued to glare into his eyes as he glowered down at you. “Adadmêzu duhû bintarg.” A hint of a smirk was dancing on his lips now. (Your father has no beard.)

As you went to open your mouth for another rebuttal, his hands grasped the sides of your face pulling your lips together in a rough heated kiss. The kind of kiss where your teeth clashed together and lips grew numb. You growled in surprise, but it wasn’t completely unwelcome. His lips were rough and calculated, his mustache tickling your cheeks and jaw. Your once rigid body slowly became limp in his arms as your lips melted together. Your teeth clashing simmered down to a soft interlocking of your lips. His hands slid down to your waist, hoisting you up as your legs hooked on his hips. You dragged your fingers into his beard, giving him a light tug. As you finally pulled away, he softly bit onto your bottom lip. Your rage was no longer as he held you so lovingly in his arms.

You unfurled your fingers from his beard, instead bringing your hands ups to caress his cheeks. "I'm going." You said in a much softer tone, thumbs rubbing in soothing lines. You searched his eyes for any sign of disappointment, but he just let out a muted sigh and held you closer.

"If you must," He huffed in agreement before adding a quick, “But if I say hide ye will!”  You smiled and pressed your forehead to his.

[weepingfromacedartree]

Ten Milestones: First Pet

Hi friends! The first chapter of my new fic is now ready for anybody interested.

Hope you enjoy! I'll be posting chapters every Friday (and sometimes Tuesday).

Chapter 1: First Pet

Today: April 29th, 2023

Relationship Status: Dating

꙳

“Gregory just texted me to ask if we’re dating. I didn’t think he had my number.” 

“That little arsehole probably sent it to himself when he stole my phone.”

It’s Saturday, 7:02 PM. Penelope and Colin are sitting on the floor of his flat, a few containers of Chinese food littered between them. It’s not a particularly unusual setting to find either one of them in on a Saturday evening. However, some things are different now. 

Two weeks ago, they would not have been playing footsie. Not this shamelessly, at least. 

“I assumed that Eloise’s ‘vow of secrecy’ would involve her immediately telling Benedict… And that Benedict would tell Anthony… And that Anthony would tell Kate… But I don’t know how the rumour managed to spread to Cambridge in…” She glances down to her phone again. “Six hours flat.” 

“‘Rumour?’” Colin echoes, a smirk on his face. “Surely, you’re not trying to keep this sordid love affair hidden from me as well.”

“‘Sordid?’ God, Colin. You make us sound so dirty.” She kicks his foot away, then picks up her container of shrimp fried rice. “And I’m not trying to keep it from anyone. We both knew what was going to happen when I told El.” 

“Frankly, I’m surprised Greg didn’t text you sooner.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Penelope watches as Colin uses his chopsticks to play around with his chicken dish, never actually putting a piece in his mouth. She can tell there’s something brewing in his mind.

“So… What are you gonna tell him?” he eventually asks.

“Well… I was going to leave him in suspense a little while longer. Maybe take the ‘no comment’ approach at first. Then, I don’t know… the truth?”

“Which is?”

Before answering, Penelope takes a moment to study the look on her supposed boyfriend’s face. She wonders if he’s playing dumb as a joke, or if there has been a miscommunication of monumental proportions between them. Judging from the expression on his face alone… 

Neither option seems to be the correct one. 

“Yes?”

She hadn’t intended for her answer to sound like a question, but her voice squeaked upward at the end, nonetheless. Colin doesn’t appear at all phased by her uncertainty, though. He looks quite calm and collected, placing his takeaway container on the coffee table and leaning further into the big blue couch behind him. 

“‘Dating’ is a bit too casual a word for us, I think.” 

“Okay…” Penelope draws those two syllables out as long as her breath allows her. She’s stalling for time, trying to sort out what it is that Colin is getting at. Still, she comes up empty. 

“It’s only been a week. What do you suggest we call —”

“We should get married.” 

“What!?”

He’s joking. He’s teasing. He’s —

“I said we should get married.” 

Before she can yelp out another barely intelligible sound, Penelope bites her tongue. Literally. She watches his face, remaining quiet, waiting for him to expand on this insane, out-of-nowhere proposal. In the end, all she gets is a smug little smirk.

“What do you mean, ‘We should get married?’”

“I thought it was a rather self-explanatory proposition.”

“Col—”

“Why does anyone get married? I love you. I wish to continue loving you forever and ever. Ergo, marriage.” 

“This isn’t funny.” 

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“It —”

“It was a proposal.”

“Colin,” she scolds, using the sternest tone she can manage to muster up — which, at the moment, happens to be about an octave higher than her typical speaking voice. 

If nothing else, at least he has the decency to drop that stupid smirk from his face in response to her apparent anxious state. 

“Pen,” he murmurs, leaning forward to place his left hand on her right knee. “Just think about it. We didn’t meet a week ago, we just finally admitted what we should have told each other years ago. I’ve known you my entire life, and I spent most of that time either too oblivious to realise how in love with you I was, or too scared to do anything about it. Dating just seems… unnecessary. We know what comes next — why delay it any longer?” 

Sitting stunned, eyes wide-open and fixed on the thumb currently tracing circles across her bare knee, Penelope attempts to make sense of what Colin just said. But the longer she sits there silent, the more divided her mind becomes. 

On one hand, at her core, Penelope is sensible. Reasonable. Logical. That part of her is sounding alarm bells, insisting his proposition is irrational and goes against everything she knows about marriages and engagements and proposals altogether. After all, plenty of people go from friends to lovers and don’t jump directly to marriage. 

On the other hand, also at her core, Penelope is a romantic. A willing fool. An idealist against her better judgement. That part of her is susceptible to Colin’s sweet, silly, and perhaps not so irrational words. She has been in love with him her entire life. Would it really be so crazy to —

Shaking her head ever so slightly, Penelope tentatively, regretfully brushes his hand off her knee. At the loss of her touch, Colin’s bottom lip juts out in a pout. 

“Dating isn’t casual, necessarily… It’s important. It’s like a — like a test run for marriage and —”

“Well —”

“And it’s different from friendship. It puts you through different tests and trials than you go through with someone when you’re just friends.”

Colin appears to think over her words for a moment, squinting at her in that way that makes his blue eyes look grey. 

“Friendship is not so different from dating,” he argues, eyes wide and blue again. “At least, not the way we did it.” 

“Col —”

“You’re right about one thing, though.”

“Oh. Is that so?” she asks, unable to contain her sarcasm, even now. 

“Dating is like a trial period. It’s when you figure out if your relationship is strong enough to last through all of the bullshit life can throw your way.” 

“That’s not exactly what I said.”

“Do you disagree with my summarisation?” His lips form a smirk that tells her that he already knows her answer. Still, she shakes her head. 

“Okay,” he chuckles, leaning in an inch closer to her. “And after the mountains of bullshit we went through during the course of our friendship, do you have any doubt about our ability to stick with each other through everything? Is there anything holding you back, Pen?”

No. Nothing. 

That’s the truth. There isn’t a single thing about Colin that she feels unsure of. Not anymore.

But still… 

Even if there has been love between them for decades, they couldn’t admit that to each other until a week ago. That assuredness — that knowing — is still so new. She’s spent more time deciding whether or not to cut bangs, and the answer always ends up being not.

Still…

“Let’s consult the experts.” 

Those four words break Penelope out of a daze she hadn’t realised she had fallen into. 

At some point in the last few seconds, Colin had pulled out his phone. Now, he’s typing away at the keyboard with alarming urgency. 

“What are you doing?” 

With his phone screen mostly out of her view, Colin taps it one final time before looking up to meet her curious eye. Then, he clears his throat. 

“Ten Milestones Every Couple Should Celebrate Before Walking Down the Aisle,” he reads aloud. “Number One: Sharing Your First —”

“What are you doing?” Penelope asks again. This time, a laugh escapes her lips as she does so. Something about the seriousness on Colin’s face reminds her of the absurdity of this situation. That it is a joke, whether or not he had intended it as such. 

“I know you think this is all very funny, but I’m serious,” Colin contends. “Everything a couple needs to go through in order to be prepared for marriage, we have surely gone through at some point over the last twenty years. We’ve wasted enough time as it is — why was even more of it by delaying the inevitable? It just seems silly.”

Penelope has a bad habit of getting lost in Colin. In his words, in his voice, in his eyes… All of which seem to be pulling her in with a force that could rival anything she’s felt in the last twenty years. So when he stops talking, presumably offering her the space to get in her latest rebuttal, she remains silent. 

With the smirk back on his face, he continues, “And while I know part of you is very tempted to agree with me and run down to the courthouse right now, I know the inherent skeptic in you needs some convincing.”

He briefly pauses again, this time to hold up his phone and display the article he had just been urgently searching for. 

“So we will go through this list, which details every milestone a couple must accomplish before they get married. At the end, if we find that we checked off every single to-do item while we were just friends, we will make the reasonable decision and get married.”

If there’s one thing Colin Bridgerton is unnervingly good at, it’s making a convincing argument. The realist and the romantic on Penelope’s shoulders suddenly go quiet.

“And where exactly did you find this scholarly article — the one you are basing such a life-altering decision on?” 

He looks down. 

“TheMarriageExpert.com” 

“Colin!” 

“They’re an expert, Pen!” 

Penelope giggles, for as often as Colin provokes her, his charm always gets her in the end. Once her laughter lets up, she thinks over his slightly altered proposal.

He’s convinced me to play more tedious games before…

“Fine. I agree to your terms. What’s first on that list of yours?” 

Any seriousness left on Colin’s face quickly melts away. He grins at her in that way that always makes her stomach flutter.

“Number One: Sharing Your First Pet,” he reads aloud. “During the course of your marriage, you and your partner will share many things together. Finances, homes, memories, and a million other things you cannot even begin to fathom now. A pet will help you prepare for those shared responsibilities. It will teach you both about the importance of…”

As Colin continues reading, Penelope feels a frown pulling down on her lips. When he finishes, she attempts to cover her disappointment with a shallow laugh. 

“Game over, I guess.” 

His eyebrow arches. “Pardon?” 

“We’ve never shared a pet, so…”

Colin’s mouth falls wide open. He pulls his free hand to his chest, as if the aghast look on his face wasn’t enough. 

“Pen… Did Mr. Whiskers mean nothing to you?”

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

Twenty Years Earlier: July 21st, 2003

Relationship Status: Sister’s Best Friend // Best Friend’s Brother

꙳

How did I end up here?

Today is Monday. Today also happens to be the first real day of summer holiday for children all across London. For most kids, that means the start of freedom — six weeks of fun, followed by real life crashing down on them when the fall term begins. But for Penelope Featherington, it marks the start of something different. 

The loss of structure. 

For the next six weeks, it is up to Penelope to determine how — and more importantly, where — she spends the majority of her time. She didn’t want to spend it at home. Not this morning, at least. 

That was how she ended up in Grosvenor Square. 

At just eight years old, there aren’t many places she can run off to unaccompanied. Even the park, just two blocks away from her home, is hard to get away with. Her mum only allowed it because she was under the impression that Eloise would be joining her — that between Penelope’s sense and Eloise’s toughness, the two girls would be safe in the nearby park. But when Penelope ran across the street to request her best friend’s company, Anthony informed her that Eloise was not available for a morning stroll in the square. 

She could have gone back home, but she really didn’t want to. That was how she ended up in Grosvenor Square alone. 

While walking around the park’s perimeter, she kept her eyes down, careful not to step on any cracks in the pavement. She kept her shoulders hunched, trying her best to blend in with the other park-goers. She kept her ears pointed outward, picking up every little sound that surrounded her. 

She listened. To the birds chirping. To the wind rustling. To the rumbling engines of nearby traffic. Mostly, she listened to the people. 

Two teenagers were fighting. She was mad. He was sorry. She said something about him cheating, then their shouts turned to whispers and Penelope couldn’t make out the rest. As she walked out of earshot, she couldn’t help but wonder what sort of exam he could have cheated on that would warrant such a reaction. 

A man with a big yellow dog was flirting with a woman. Though Penelope couldn’t make out much of what he was saying, she could tell just from the look on her face that she wasn’t particularly liking what she was hearing. When Penelope got a little closer, the yellow dog started barking. By the time the man got his pet to settle down, the woman had disappeared. 

A neighbour from down the street walked past, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and pushing a stroller with the other. As Mrs. Abernathy walked closer, Penelope briefly considered hiding behind the nearest tree, certain that the woman would recognise her and ask where her mum was. But before Penelope could turn and run in the opposite direction, the little blonde baby started crying and distracted the woman. 

Just as she was about to turn the corner and listen into the teenage couple’s fight again, Penelope heard something new. 

“Meow.”

At first, she thought her mind was playing tricks on her. But no. When she walked to the bush that the noise had originated from, two round green eyes stared back at her. 

Oh, right. 

Penelope looks down at the little grey ball of fur currently nestled in her arms. 

After approaching him in the park, the second thing she noticed was the kitten’s whiskers. They were so long — so disproportionate to how small everything else about him looked. He was so scrawny that Penelope couldn’t tell if he was actually a kitten, or just an older cat who had spent too much time with too little food in his stomach. 

She spent an hour searching Grosvenor Square and the surrounding area for his family. But with no collar and evidently no family in sight, Penelope decided to take her new friend home. 

Penelope and the cat spent approximately 20 minutes walking the 10-minute route home; she slowed her steps, took unnecessary turns, and waited longer than needed at crosswalks. During all of that time, she held the cat tightly to her chest, shielding him from the rest of the world with the nest she made out of her yellow cardigan. Also during that time, she practised what she would say to her mum once she and her hopeful pet arrived back at home.

“Penelope. Anne. Featherington. Get that rodent out of my house!” 

It had not gone well. But in truth, Penelope knew long before she landed back on her doorstep that this was all a lost cause. That there was nothing in the world she could have said to convince her mother to let her keep the cat.

Penelope had followed her mother’s instructions, fleeing from their home as quickly as her feet would allow. She didn’t have much of a plan once she hit the pavement outside, but like they so often do, her feet automatically started walking in the direction of the home across the street; they stopped short before she could reach it. 

Mr. Bridgerton died last summer. Ever since that morning in August when they learned of the awful news, Penelope’s mum has incessantly warned her against showing up at their door unannounced. After all, there are eight fatherless children in that house now — the youngest of which never even got to meet her father. They have enough going on as it is. 

They have enough going on as it is, Penelope repeats again and again and again. 

That’s how she got here. Sitting on the curb outside the Bridgerton household, a cat sleeping soundly in her lap. 

“It’s all gonna be okay,” she whispers to herself more than she does to him. 

Silently, Penelope wonders what the right thing to do is. Where the right place to go is. 

The first place she thinks of is an animal shelter. Surely, that is the most logical place to bring a lost kitten to. The people there would know how to take care of him — how to find him a home with people who will love him and keep him safe. The only problem: Penelope does not know of any actual animal shelters in Mayfair.

The second place she thinks of is the fire station down the street. Firefighters save cats, don’t they? Or was that —

“Pen?” 

Colin, her mind registers before she even has the chance to turn and look at him. Before she does so, she shifts in her spot and attempts to hide the contraband currently sleeping in her arms. And when she finally does set her eyes on him, her stomach starts to flutter; it always does when he smiles at her. 

“Hi,” she squeaks out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to —” 

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding to the kitten she clearly failed at concealing away from him. Before she has the chance to answer, he sits down beside her on the curb.

“Oh, I, uh — I found him in Grosvenor Square. He was all alone and I didn’t know where else to go…” 

Her voice trails off, once again contemplating what a responsible person would do next in this situation. 

“Are you gonna keep him?”

“No,” she answers, disappointment leaking through to her voice. “Mum won’t let me. She hates cats.” 

Penelope takes her eyes off the kitten to look up at Colin. While he may only be two years older, he stands nearly a head above her (he’s tall for his age — she’s short for hers). Even sitting right beside him, she has to tilt her head up just to look him in the eye. As usual, his mop of hair hangs so low that it nearly covers both his eyes, but still, Penelope can see little glimpses of blue shining through strands of brown.

She’s always quite liked that shade of blue. 

“I’d take him,” Colin says, raising his hand to pet the cat behind his ears. “But mum and Daph are both allergic.” 

Any butterflies left in Penelope’s stomach are quickly replaced by a new sensation. This one, not so pleasant. 

Mr. Bridgerton was allergic to hornets…

“Not that kind of allergic,” he reassures her, seemingly reading her mind. “They won’t, like, die or anything. Their skin will just get all red and scratchy if he gets anywhere near them.” 

“Oh, uh — sorry,” she stutters out, barely comprehending his last few sentences. “I should just go.” 

Pulling the kitten away from Colin, Penelope stands. She starts to turn in another direction, but is once again reminded that she has no idea where she is supposed to go. 

“Stop,” Colin orders, gently. He stands too. “Where are you gonna take him?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Where are you supposed to take stray cats?” 

He shrugs. 

“Dunno.” 

“Okay. Well —”

“But I have an idea.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

The Bridgertons live on a gold mine. Metaphorically. Literally, they live on nearly an acre of land in the middle of Mayfair. 

The Bridgertons’ home has been in their family for several generations. This is the primary reason why they’re able to hold on to so much land in London’s bloodthirsty real estate market. If they ever were to sell, a row of flats would be built up in the back garden within a fortnight. 

(Inheritance is the same reason why Penelope is able to remain in her own home on Grosvenor Street, despite her father’s tendency to dwindle away all of their other assets. The Featheringtons’ garden is not nearly this sprawling, though.)

“Where are we going?” 

She and Colin hadn’t gone through his house. Rather, they went around it. They’re currently walking along the wall towards the back of the estate. Colin is a few steps ahead of her, tracing the cracks in the stones with his index finger. 

“Have some patience, Pen.” 

“I — I do.” And she does. Usually. 

Usually, Penelope is a remarkably patient girl. Well-mannered. Quiet. She usually wears those attributes on her shoulders like a uniform. But for some reason, they tend to slip away from her whenever Colin is near. 

She looks over her shoulder, towards the massive house behind them. It’s purposeful, she suddenly realises, that they’re walking along the shadows of this wall. 

“Is Eloise home yet?” she asks, for no other reason than to fill the silence between them. 

Usually, Penelope doesn’t feel the need to fill silences like these. She usually feels quite comfortable in them. 

“Uh, no. Ben took her into the city for her, uh… Her doctor’s appointment. They’ll probably get back around supper time.” 

Out of Colin’s view, Penelope nods. 

For the past year — ever since her father died — Eloise has been seeing a doctor in the city pretty regularly. Penelope’s mum told her to never ask any follow up questions about these visits, but in her own head, she’s always wondered what type of doctor is able to fix an ailment such as heartbreak. 

“Are you leaving London for the summer holiday?” she asks, another attempt to fill the void. She already knows the answer. The Bridgertons always travel up to Aubrey Hall this time of year. Always. 

“No. Just staying here, I guess.” 

Dread appears suddenly and sits heavily in Penelope’s stomach. 

Mr. Bridgerton died at Aubrey Hall last summer. Of course they’re not eager to return.  

“Oh, uh,” she eventually mumbles, her mind desperately searching for any route this conversation could take that would land them back in safe territory. “Us too,” is all she manages to say. 

“Cool. I’ll see you around then.”

She feels her cheeks instantly flush. “Yeah. Cool,” she says, hoping her voice does not expose the growing warmth on her skin. 

Without another word, Colin breaks away from the stone wall and walks towards a particularly dense cluster of trees at the edge of the property. He leads them to a spot that, despite spending so much of her childhood playing in this very garden, she has never seen before. It’s a little wooden shed, wide and about as tall as Penelope. 

“What is that?” 

“A shed,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders. “I think they used to store firewood in here — you know, back in the olden times.” Walking up next to it, he undoes the little metal latch with a flick of his index finger. “Empty now, though. I don’t think anyone remembers it’s here.” 

“So…” 

“So, your cat could live here.” 

Penelope looks down. At some point in the last few minutes, she had somehow forgotten about the creature held tightly against her chest. She had forgotten her whole point in being here. 

“Oh! Right. That’s, um…” 

She steals another glance at the shed. It certainly looks like it hasn’t been used since the “olden times.”

“That’s nice of you to offer. But how would he — how would that work?” 

“I know it seems bare now, but we get him a bed, milk, food — everything a cat needs to survive — and he’ll be happy here.”

Bed. Milk. Food.

“Those things cost money. I —” 

Colin shrugs. “I’ll steal a tenner out of Anthony’s wallet,” he says casually. 

When Penelope’s face is overtaken by shock, a cheeky smile erupts on his. 

“Kidding! I’ll just tell him I’m sad. He’ll hand me some cash and tell me to go fix my feelings with ice cream.” 

“Oh, okay. But…” Her mind stalls, searching for another flaw in his logic to voice aloud. The problem is, there are just so many to choose from. 

“My mum always says we can’t get a pet because they’re too much responsibility. You have to take care of them. You have to feed them, make sure they —” 

“Hey,” he interrupts, smile still hanging on his lips. “We’re both very responsible people. I help keep Greg alive, and that kid thinks licking an electrical socket is a fun hobby. If I can do that, keeping a cat alive will be nothing.” 

“So we would, um…” She steals yet another glance at the shed in front of them; she can’t help but look at it and see a cage. “We would just keep him locked up in there all day?” 

“No,” he reassures her. “We’ll keep the door open — or I could even cut a cat-sized hole in the side. You know, so he can come and go as he pleases.” 

“But if he’s able to leave that easily… Won’t he get lost again?” 

Colin shakes his head.

“If I know anything about cats it’s that if you feed them, they’ll always find their way back to you. And since you found him hanging out in Grosvenor Square, clearly he’s an outside cat, not an inside cat.”

Penelope looks down at the little grey cat in her arms. His attention is no longer on her,  his round eyes darting wildly as he takes in the space around them.

“I thought only strays went outside.” 

“No. A cat can have a home and not want to be cooped up in it all day long.” Colin takes a few steps towards her, raising his hand and scratching behind the kitten’s little ears. The cat seems to like it, as he starts purring immediately. “Clearly, this little guy wants to roam free.” 

Yet again, Penelope feels her cheeks burn pink. She isn’t used to this — being so close to him. In fact, she can’t think of a single time when the two of them have ever been so close and so alone together. After all, Colin is her best friend’s brother — a friend of sorts, but tangentially so. Until today, he has only ever been in Penelope’s company through her friendship with Eloise. 

She isn’t used to having this much of his attention on her. 

“Here.” After what feels like hours, she pulls the kitten away from her chest and nearly shoves him into Colin’s. “He seems to really like you.” 

Annoyingly quickly, the creature settles soundly into his arms. Clearly, Colin’s natural charm works just as well on animals as it does on human beings. 

When Colin turns his back and his gaze falls on something other than her, Penelope’s mind flushes with panic. She rethinks words she had mostly brushed off just moments before. 

Colin offering to spend his own money. To cut a hole in the shed. To take care of this little creature she found in a bush.  

He has enough going on as it is. 

When she looks to where he now stands, Penelope spots Colin setting the cat down in his prospective home. The cat takes two tiny steps across the wooden beams before Penelope walks over and hastily takes him into her arms again. 

“I’m sorry, Colin. I didn’t mean to get you wrapped up in this.” She turns away, pulling the kitten even closer into her chest.  “I’ll drop him off at the fire —”

“Pen, stop.” 

Before she can step away, Colin’s hand falls on her shoulder. He squeezes it once before letting it drop back to his side. Although Penelope is not very experienced in receiving small physical gestures such as this, she can tell he had meant for it to be reassuring. 

“He’ll be fine here. I promise.”

She turns slowly. 

“Are you sure it’s not too much?” 

“No,” he laughs. “Of course not. How could this little guy ever be ‘too much?’” 

Pushing away all the alarm bells blaring in her head, informing her that this is a bad idea, Penelope pushes her shoulders back. She stands tall — metaphorically, of course. 

“I’ll do half the work,” she tells him. “At least. I can check on his bowl every morning — make sure he has water and food and whatever else he needs. Maybe you can do the same at night. And if you ever can’t, just tell me and I’ll help. And if it ever does become too much, I can find him somewhere else to live.” 

When she finally stops rambling and closes her mouth, Colin smiles again. Then, he extends his right hand towards her. 

“You got yourself a deal, Featherington.”

Tentatively, Penelope raises her arm to seal said deal. But before she can make contact, Colin’s hand moves again. He turns his palm towards her, as if to signal “stop.”

“One ground rule before we make it official: let’s keep this whole thing between the two of us. Cause if Anthony finds out… he’ll send me and the cat to the nearest shelter.”

“Colin! I —” 

“Kidding!” He laughs again, which has a shockingly effective influence on Penelope’s nerves. 

“But really… It’s simpler if we don’t tell anyone else. Not even Eloise — she can’t keep a secret for her life.” 

While thinking over his words, Penelope tilts her head upwards. She steals a not-so-quick glance at his eyes — at the little bits of blue shining through the brown. 

For as long as she can remember, Penelope has always wanted more of Colin. Though she won’t be able to fully understand or define this feeling for several more years, it burns in her heart, even now. She wants to be closer to him. To make him laugh. To be his friend. To share a secret with him — even if she knows that it could very well end badly for everyone involved. 

“Deal.” 

With that, Penelope shakes Colin’s hand and seals their fate forever. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 5th, 2003

Their secret turned out to be a rather easy one to keep. 

Penelope was good at going unseen. Every morning at approximately 7:00, she snuck into the Bridgerton back garden, walking along the shadows of the east-facing wall. At approximately 7:10 every morning, she snuck out without being noticed by anyone except Colin, who always kept an eye out for her from his bedroom window. If his mum or siblings ever were to catch her back there, he highly doubts they would care or even bat an eye; before this past year, Penelope seemed to spend more time in their home than she did her own.

Colin was also good at escaping notice on his daily task. Every night around dusk, he would sneak into a bathroom, fill a plastic bottle with tap water, hide it in the pocket of whatever hoodie he happened to be wearing that day, and slip out the back door — always unseen by his family members. They keep the cat food in a little locked container in the shed — both of which Colin had bought using money he had stolen from Anthony’s wallet (not that he would admit to following through on the theft “joke” to Penelope).

As the summer droned on, and as dusk came quicker with each passing day, Colin put less and less effort into sneaking out every night. The more time passed, the more obvious it became to him, how easy it is to disappear from a home with so many people — especially when everyone seems to be looking for a person who is no longer around. 

The only conspirator that ever put them at risk of being found out was Mr. Whiskers (a name Colin picked after Penelope insisted that they couldn’t just keep calling him “little guy”). 

Three times in two weeks, Whiskers had loitered around the Bridgerton’s back steps following his dinner, meowing for someone’s attention. Colin had caught him the first time and shooed him off. Daphne caught him the second time and screamed bloody murder. Anthony caught him the third and nearly called animal control. The only reason he didn’t was because Gregory just so happened to push a vase off a table one room over; the mess had been too distracting. 

Thankfully, Whiskers seemed wary of coming close to the Bridgerton household after that last encounter. 

A routine formed. Penelope would sneak into the garden in the morning. Colin would sneak out of his home at night. Mr. Whiskers would come and go as he pleased between meals. Their paths rarely ever cross. That is, until tonight. 

Tonight — like most nights — Colin can’t sleep. He ran up to his bedroom at 9:16, only after being ordered to do so by Anthony. He’s spent much of the last 145 minutes in bed staring at the ceiling. Now, bored out of his skull and needing any sort of distraction, he jumps up to grab the MP3 player and headphones sitting on the windowsill. 

He turns up the volume all the way and, for the next few minutes, does his best to tune out the rest of the world. It’s probably for the best that he fails in doing so, otherwise he wouldn’t have noticed the shadow cutting across the moonlight in his back garden. 

Less than five minutes later, Colin cuts along that same path; he’s far less cautious than he ever is at dusk. He knows there’s a chance that someone in the house could still be awake and spot him out here, but that risk feels less worrisome, the closer he gets to his intended destination.

Just as it comes into view, he hears sniffling. The sound is quiet, but persistent. 

He sees her before she sees him. She’s sitting with her legs crossed in the shed’s open doorway, Mr. Whiskers curled up in her lap. 

Colin had felt uneasy from the very moment he spotted her from his bedroom window, but a distinct wave of dread hits him cold the moment that his eyes meet Penelope’s. Hers go so wide that he swears he can see the moonlight reflecting off of them. 

She doesn’t immediately speak; even her crying halts after realising that she is not alone. 

“Pen?” he asks, when he can think of nothing else to say. He waits several seconds for her to give some sort of reaction. A word, a nod — anything. But still, she remains frozen in her spot in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. 

“Are you o—” 

“Yes,” she shoots out. “Yes, I, uh — I — I’m fine.” 

Finally, Penelope moves. She places her hands around the cat’s belly and uncrosses her feet like she’s about to run off into the night. And though her claims of being “fine” offered his mind zero reassurance, Colin nods at her words anyway. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, sitting down beside her before she has the chance to flee. He raises his hand and scratches behind Mr. Whiskers’ ears while the cat remains perched on Penelope’s legs. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he offers, unprompted. “I thought I would see what Whiskers was up to.”

“Oh,” Penelope says. Then, in an even fainter voice, “Same.” 

As he continues scratching, the kitten purrs; his soft murmur is the only sound in the air for several long seconds. Just when the silence begins to feel a bit too heavy on his skin, Colin drops his hand and looks up at the scene above them. 

“Do you know any constellations?” 

After a few more beats of silence, Penelope raises her finger to the sky. “That’s the North Star. And that’s the Little Dipper, connected to it.” She repositions her finger slightly. “And that’s the Big Dipper, right next to it.” She repositions her finger once more before dropping it. “And that’s Aries.”

Though the stars don’t shine as brightly here as they do in the country, Colin’s eyes glaze over the soft specks of light in the sky, searching for something familiar. Specifically, he’s searching for the constellation that Benedict had pointed out to him last summer at Aubrey Hall, just a few nights before their father died. 

“That’s Capricorn.” He points his finger towards the sky, to his own star sign. THe snorts. “Do you know what type of creature a Capricorn is?”

Penelope shakes her head.

“Half-goat, half-fish. Like a mermaid with horns and a pair of hooves.”

Then, a miracle happens. 

Penelope giggles. The sound is soft, but it cuts right through the darkness.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Not as cool as a ram, but…”

“Are there any cats in the constellations?” Penelope asks once Colin’s voice trails off. 

He considers her question for a moment, recalling other star stories Benedict has told him over the years. He looks up to the sky, hoping he can discern an outline of a kitten somewhere between the lights. 

“Dunno,” he finally admits. “But there are lots of stars — most of them, we can’t even see. There’s gotta be at least one cat out there. Somewhere.” 

Penelope hums in agreement, looking down at her lap. “Mr. Whiskers is a good cat,” she quietly muses.

“Yeah.” Colin reaches over to pet behind his little grey ears. “The best.”

“He keeps trying to follow me home after breakfast.” She giggles softly. “He must not remember meeting my mum, or else he would stay away forever. She thought I was carrying a rat into our house. She shrieked.” 

“Oh god,” Colin chuckles, and it’s only a little forced. “He tried sneaking into my house a few times. He met Anthony last time, though, and I don’t think he’s ever gonna forget that.”

She giggles again, her smile lighting up in the moonlight. 

“Was he mad?” 

“His face went red! Ant is always at least a little bit angry, but this was ridiculous. No normal human could get that mad about a cute little kitten hanging around their back door.” 

With her eyes still pointed intently on the cat in her lap, Penelope’s voice lowers to almost a whisper. “I don’t know how people can see something so sweet and get so mad.”

Colin’s eyes don’t leave Penelope when he responds, “Me neither.” 

For what feels like an unending moment, the three of them sit there in silence, looking up at the moon and the stars and the darkness all around. The longer the moment holds, the harder it becomes for Colin to push away the worries that had been building inside himself since the moment he spotted Penelope running across his back garden at midnight. 

Trying his hardest to keep his tone casual… 

“Was there a reason you couldn’t sleep tonight?” 

She doesn’t respond right away. She doesn’t attempt to flee, either. 

“No. It was…” She pauses for a very long, very quiet moment. “It was nothing.”

“Pen, you —” 

“Nothing that isn’t — like — normal, I mean.”

Colin does not know what she means. He can’t imagine a single normal thing that would cause someone to run away crying from their home in the middle of the night. Especially someone as small and defenceless as Penelope. 

“My mum and dad were just fighting,” she confesses, only after realising that Colin’s look of concern will not fade until she tells him the truth. “A bit louder than usual, I guess. But it’s not like I haven’t heard them fight a million times before.” 

“That’s —” not normal, he almost says, but holds his tongue at the last moment. 

He’s suddenly, alarmingly struck by the fact that what he deems “normal” might not be the same for Penelope. That there are “normal” things in his own life that others would say are unimaginable for a kid his age. 

That’s not right, would be more accurate. But he doesn’t say that either. Instead, he simply asks, “Do you want to come inside? El is probably asleep, but I could wake her —” 

“No,” she answers, looking him in the eye for the first time in what feels like hours. “Thank you, but… It’s really late. I should go back home before someone notices I left.” She lets out one awkward, forced laugh before saying, “Mum will kill me if she realises I slipped out.” 

With one quick motion, Penelope scoops up Whiskers, plops him into Colin’s lap, then pushes herself out of the shed and back on solid ground. Just as she looks like she’s about to turn and run, Colin gathers the cat in his arms and stands beside her. 

“Are you sure? It’s no bother.”

For the briefest moment, it almost looks like doubt crosses Penelope’s face. But then, just as quickly, she shakes her head. 

“I should go home.” 

Regretfully, Colin tears his eyes away from hers, turning his head to glance at his own home in the distance. The only light still on comes from his bedroom window. 

“Yeah,” he grumbles, turning back to her. “I guess I should too.” 

Penelope nods. Just when it looks like she’s about to turn and disappear into the darkness, Colin blurts something out. 

“Do you wanna meet here again in the morning? When you feed Mr. Whiskers?” 

She seems taken aback by his question. She doesn’t immediately respond to it with words, but with a confused, almost worried expression on her face. 

“I —”

“Our system’s efficient and all,” he cuts in, “but we haven’t exactly seen much of each other since we started taking care of him. I dunno, I guess I just thought that we would be hanging out more this summer.” 

“Oh!” Her voice suddenly comes out so high that it borders a squeak. “I know what you mean. I…”

Her voice trails off. It remains silent for so long that Colin wonders if it's his turn to speak. But before he can blurt anything else out, she opens her mouth. 

“I’d like that.” 

“Cool,” he says, lips pulling into a smile. “See you tomorrow.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 14th, 2003

“I’m not sure I understand the rules of this game.”

“It’s our game. The rules can be whatever we want them to be.” 

Penelope stands with the tips of her toes and the palms of her hands pressed neatly against Colin’s matching sets. There’s a piece of cat biscuit placed between her right palm and his left. There’s a tiny grey cat peering up at them from where their shoes connect; he looks just as confused on the parameters of this game as Penelope feels. 

The rules, they eventually settle on, are these: 

Before getting into position, one person briefly presents a piece of biscuit to Mr. Whiskers. Players must take turns to avoid leading the cat towards favouritism. 

On the count of three, one person takes the biscuit into their hands, then both turn around and run in opposite directions. 

Mr. Whiskers follows whoever he believes holds his treat. 

She ends up with the biscuit three times. He ends up with it five times. It falls to the ground between them eleven times. Each time, without fail, Mr. Whiskers immediately takes off after Penelope. 

“This isn’t fair!” Colin calls out from behind a tree on their twentieth attempt at this so-called ‘game.’ “It’s not my fault you bonded with him first.” He points a finger at the cat currently pawing at her ankles. “I feed you just as much as she does — traitor!”

“Shhh, Colin!” Penelope whisper-yells. “Someone might hear you.” 

“Oh, who cares?” 

I care, Penelope thinks. She doesn’t want Colin’s mum or any one of his many siblings to stumble upon them back here. She’s not ready to give up this secret. She’s not willing to end this game. 

Not yet, anyway. 

“Mr. Whiskers cares. I doubt he wants to be kicked out of his home just because you’re a sore loser.” 

Penelope picks up Whiskers from the patch of dirt he had just been rolling around in. She walks over to the shed where Colin now sits, then gently plops the brown-tinged grey cat in his lap. 

“Well, he should have thought about that before picking sides.”

Like she has become accustomed to doing over the past two weeks, Penelope sits down on the other end of the shed’s open doorway. Colin’s body is turned towards her, but she keeps hers positioned outwards, as if to keep watch. 

After a moment of quiet, he clears his throat. 

“You can come over for dinner tonight. You know, if you want.” 

“Oh, no. That’s okay,” Penelope says quickly. Dismissively. “Mum will expect me home soon. I think we’re having stew.” 

“Yeah, but what about tomor—” 

Colin’s voice stops short before he can get that last word out. Then, he pivots his head so he is no longer facing her. 

“Well, maybe not tomorrow,” he eventually mutters, quieter than before. “But another day.”

Tomorrow is the anniversary, Penelope remembers. Along with that sudden, heart-aching reminder comes a little voice in her head that sounds distinctly like her mother. 

They have enough going on as it is. 

“I — I don’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t.” He finally looks her in the eye again. “Trust me, you wouldn’t. When you have eight kids, one more mouth hardly makes a difference.” He nods his head towards the house in the distance, partially obstructed by the scattering of trees they’ve found themselves in. 

“Eloise would be happy if you stopped in. Mum too.” 

Trying her absolute hardest to ignore that little voice in her head…

“Yeah. Another day. Soon.” 

“Good.” 

After another moment of quiet, Penelope pushes herself forward and lands with two feet in the grass. 

“I really should head back, though.” 

“Okay, I’ll —”

“But, Colin?” she interrupts (a truly rare occurrence for Penelope Featherington). 

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking and… Maybe I could feed Mr. Whiskers breakfast and dinner tomorrow. I know we have our system, but… I just — you shouldn’t have to deal with taking care of him on top of any… family stuff.”

Colin doesn't respond right away. He spends several seconds looking at her with his brows furrowed; Mr. Whiskers uses that time to settle even deeper into his arms. Finally, his lips part. Penelope expects the first word out of his mouth to be “No,” but it isn’t. 

“Sure.” He nods, brows lifting up a bit. “Thanks, Pen. That’s kind of you to offer.” 

Penelope is surprised by his words. Not just because she was expecting him to dismiss her offer, but because she had never been thanked for something like this before. Her entire life, kindness was something that had been expected of her, but never really appreciated. She had been rewarded for her kindness in the past, but never thanked for it. 

She’s hesitant to accept such thanks — gratitude for something as small as offering up a few minutes of her time for someone who had experienced more grief than she could even begin to imagine. But she can’t bring herself to deny it either. So instead, she simply nods and says, “Goodnight, Colin.” 

 ꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 25th, 2003

It’s Monday morning, 6:55 AM. Like most mornings around this time, Penelope is walking along the Bridgerton’s east-facing wall, feet stepping in the shadows, one finger tracing the stones beside her. Unlike most mornings, when she steps away from the wall and towards the shed hidden by a cluster of trees, she notices that the door that is always open is suddenly shut tight. 

At the beginning of the summer, Penelope had convinced Colin not to cut a cat-sized opening in the side of the shed (he wanted to use a saw from his garage). Instead, they decided to always keep the door open so Mr. Whiskers could come and go as he pleases. Always. 

Her feet pace faster with each and every step, intrigue and anxiety building up and piling over the closer she gets to that closed door. 

It could not have closed on its own. It wasn’t the wind or gravity or Whiskers himself.  The latch is locked. Someone locked it. 

Just as she raises her arm to swing the wooden door back open, Penelope hears footsteps. Quick and increasingly loud footsteps. She (literally) jumps around, heat pounding, eyes wide, and sees…

“Colin! Where’s Mr. Whiskers?!”

“In there.” 

He points to the shed behind her, still shut tight. Once he gets close enough, he reaches over her shoulder and finally undoes the latch. Just as promised, the cat is there, curiously staring up at them with those round green eyes.

“He keeps trying to follow me back into the house after I feed him at night. Last night, he was scratching at the back door. Thank god I got to him before Anthony did.” 

“So he was just locked in there all night?” 

She spares another sideways glance at the shed’s interior. It’s not nearly as bare as it had been that first day she looked inside. Now, there are two containers, two bowls, two electric lanterns, a blanket, a few cat toys, and a few human toys she assumes once belonged to Colin. 

To an animal as tiny as Mr. Whiskers, this place might seem huge — but to Penelope, it all feels very claustrophobic. 

“Yeah,” Colin finally answers, sounding guilty. “But sometimes it’s just safer for him to stay put for a little while. Even outdoor cats need to be reigned in some nights.” 

Penelope doesn’t know whether to agree or disagree with his words, so she tries her best to ignore them — for a little while, at least. After climbing into the shed and filling his empty bowl with food, she gives Whiskers an affection bop on the head. 

“You’re not wrong,” she belatedly answers. When Mr. Whiskers finishes his meal, Penelope turns and hops back onto the grass. Tilting her head to look Colin in the eye, she says, “But maybe Mr. Whiskers isn’t an outside cat after all. Maybe that’s why he keeps trying to follow us back to our own homes.” 

“I thought that was just because he loves us.” 

Penelope can’t help but roll her eyes just a little. Leave it to Colin Bridgerton to transform guilt into charm in under 30 seconds. 

“Well…” She turns back to Mr. Whiskers again. As usual, he’s peering up at them with a transfixed — maybe even loving — stare. “Maybe you have a point.” 

“I usually do —” 

“But still… Do you really think this is what’s best for him?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean…”

She bites her tongue. Literally. 

All of this started because of her own selfish desires. To keep the cat. To occupy Colin’s attention. To possess a reason to get out of her house every morning. 

Her selfishness and its inevitable consequences were easy to overlook at the start of the summer. But now…

“The summer is almost over. When we go back to school, we won’t be able to look out for him all day. Then the winter will come and this little shed isn’t going to be very warm.” She stops ranting briefly to glance down at the little grey cat in the doorway. “What if he gets sick? Or needs a vet? I just don’t know if this is really his best option.”

She points both hands towards the shed. Towards the small wooden structure that completely transformed her summer. Towards the only home Mr. Whiskers has ever known — dim and claustrophobic as it may be. She expects Colin’s eyes to follow her lead, but they don’t. 

For a moment, it feels as though her presence completely slips from his view. His eyes are fixated on something in the distance. Something in the opposite direction. Something —

“Shite!” 

Colin’s arms hastily wrap around Penelope’s waist. It takes everything in her not to shriek in surprise as he practically throws her into the shed. Thankfully, Mr. Whiskers jumps backwards instantly, or else she surely would have crushed him on impact. 

“Colin! What —”

“Shh!” 

He climbs in and quickly shuts the door behind him. If it were not for the electric lamps in the corner, illuminating the space with what little battery power they have left, Penelope wouldn’t discern him mouthing: “Anthony.” 

They sit on opposite sides of the shed, the tips of their toes touching in the limited space. Penelope wonders if Colin can feel her shaking through the rubber edges of her yellow converse. The concerned look he throws her tells her that he must.

“You okay?” he mouths. 

She thinks about nodding. She briefly wonders if a nod counts as a lie, or if lies can only be spoken aloud. In the end, she doesn’t do anything — except remain frozen in her spot. 

Everything is quiet. For a fleeting moment, Penelope actually believes they may have gone unnoticed. Then, just as Mr. Whiskers decides to move out of the corner and crosses the wooden floor, she remembers that the latch — the flimsy piece of metal that is the only means of securing this thing — is on the other side. And when the cat uses his tiny paw to press against the door’s interior, she barely has time to gasp before it swings open. 

The morning light nearly blinds her, but not enough to miss Anthony Bridgerton’s very mad, very red face staring back at her. 

“Colin — what the hell?!” 

Just as Colin had thrown her into the shed less than a minute ago, Anthony now pulls Penelope out of it by her shoulders. Just like Whiskers, she miraculously manages to land on her feet. 

“I knew it! I knew you were irresponsible, but this —” He bends down and grabs Whiskers by the scruff of his neck. “This is insane. Even for you.” 

Anthony turns to Penelope, looking as though he only just now discovered her presence here. In mere seconds, she watches his face turn from anger to shock to annoyance. Then, he turns to face his little brother again. 

“I will be the responsible adult and make sure this — thing — finds an actual home and doesn’t continue living on the streets.” With a near-growl caught in his throat, he tells Colin, “We will discuss this later.” 

Anthony turns to leave, but stops just as quickly.

“And Colin, do not mention this to mum. Or anyone else.” 

He starts then stops again. 

“And Penelope, please do not let my brother’s bad influence rub off on you. A nice girl like you has enough trouble as it is being friends with Eloise.” 

It isn’t until Anthony has stomped out of sight with Mr. Whiskers in tow that Penelope starts to regain control of her body and mind. Slowly, she turns towards Colin. She uses every one of those seconds to begin preparing an apology. For getting him in trouble with his brother. For putting him in this mess to begin with. For being a bad friend. But when their eyes meet… Colin does not look as though he is expecting an apology of any sort. 

He laughs. 

“Did you see the look on his face?!” 

“Uh — I don’t —” 

 “He looked like a tomato! I swear one day he’s gonna burst and —”

“Colin,” she tries to cut in, to little avail.  

“— pasta sauce is gonna go flying ev—”

“Colin!” she says again, a bit louder this time. Thankfully, it seems to get his attention. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have —”

“Oh god, Pen. Don’t be sorry.” 

“But your — your brother —”

“I should be apologising on Ant’s behalf. Even if you and him were both right about Whiskers needing somewhere else to live.”

Penelope’s mouth parts, but all she can do is nod in response to those last few words. As much as she will miss her tiny, furry friend, this is for the best. For Whiskers, at least. 

“But Anthony was so mad at you. And I —”

“He’ll get over it. That’s the great thing about having seven siblings — wait five minutes and someone will do something ten times stupider. Daphne and Eloise are probably inside getting into a fist fight as we speak.” 

The mention of her best friend’s name temporarily draws Penelope’s thoughts away from her internal pity party. While she did hang out with Eloise over the last few weeks, their time together felt far less frequent and more fleeting than it ever had during previous summer holidays. During any time before last August. 

“You wanna come over for dinner tonight?” Colin asks, breaking Penelope from her thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“I said,” he smirks, “do you want to come over for dinner tonight?” 

“I don’t know… Anthony seemed —”

“Don’t worry about him — he’ll get over it. And you heard him, he’s not even going to rat us out to my mum.” He takes a step forward, then places his hand on Penelope’s shoulder. He squeezes it once. “It’ll be fun. Everyone will be excited to see you.” 

Not for the first time — and certainly not the last — Penelope feels at a loss for words. All she can manage is a tiny nod. A nearly imperceptible movement. 

Colin smiles. 

“Good. Just so you know, the door is always open. Always.” 

Finally, little Penelope Featherington finds her voice again. 

“I know.” 

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

There’s a smile pulling apart Penelope’s lips, but she does her best to cover it with another fork full of fried rice. Colin — of course — sees right through her attempt at concealment.

“So…” 

“Anthony was right. We were awfully irresponsible that summer. That cat was better off after Danbury took him in and re-named him Lord Whiskers.”

“Hey — give us a little credit! How many 8 or 10-year-olds do you know who could keep a cat alive for an entire summer all by themselves?” 

“The only impressive thing we did that summer was keeping our little secret hidden from the rest of your family.” 

“What are you talking about?!” Colin practically cries out, unable to keep his ever-charming laugh from escaping his throat as he speaks. “Do not downplay our role in raising Whiskers. You rescued him from the mean streets of London. I —”

“I found him hiding out in a bush in Grosvenor Square!”

“Exactly! And I —” 

“Colin!”

“I built him a home,” he barely manages to get out through another round of laughter.

“That’s a bit over-dra—”

“We fed and took care of him for over a month. We were just kids — that’s pretty impressive. That means something.”

In her heart, Penelope knows that — obviously — it means something. But does it mean what Colin wants it to mean? That they should get married? 

Even with the rules he set forth, it seems like an insane connection to even consider.

“I don’t know…” 

“For five weeks, he was ours. That means a lot.”

For a moment, Penelope does consider it. 

She thinks about who Colin was to her before she found that cat. A friend — of sorts. Her best friend’s brother. A neighbour. A crush. Someone she looked at and longed for. 

Next, she thinks about who Colin was to her on that morning, when Anthony found them hiding out in a tiny wooden shed. A friend. A fellow kid. A conspirator. Someone who saw her cowering in the dark and asked if she was okay. 

So what, if their hypothetical marriage hinges on a technicality? People have married on flimsier grounds before. 

“Fine,” she relents. “It counts.” 

A moment ago, she wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Colin’s grin grows even wider. 

“Of course it does.” 

Penelope scoffs, yet another lazy attempt to cover the grin on her own face. Colin makes no attempt to call her out on it, though. He’s too busy scrolling on his phone. 

“Let’s see what we have next to cross off…”

[thegodthief]

When I saw the length of entries in The Memoirs of Papalo Palo were considerable in yesterday's updates, I realized that AO3 would probably be a better home for the project. (That and I don't have any backups of it.) This morning I created the new work and copied all twenty-seven entries as chapters to an ongoing work.

Image Caption: "Language: English Words: 28,903 Chapters: 27/?"

Two-thirds of those words were written yesterday, over the course of the day as I played FFXIV on the desktop and had a text editor on the laptop to write the posts as I went.

I am stunned.

I am crying.

The idea of Papalo Palo came about as a "You know what would be fucked up make a good story? What if...", and the main points of the story unwound into the past from there. As I started playing the Lalafell character, Dter encouraged me to start writing a memoir of the character for others to enjoy and so I could stop telling her the story as I went. Sure. Why not? It would make good typing practice, anyway.

Papalo Palo reached CNJ 30 in one day without any help of gear, buffs, or hacks. FFXIV has been reworked to get new players to the end times end game as quickly as possible, after all. When I got the white mage job stone on him is when I realized that the story of Papalo Palo was going to be much bigger than just something for me to kick around. I created the side-blog, told no one of what I was doing, and threw everything in the wind.

Y'all know I'm still stalled on Book Two. It has been over a year since I last posted a new chapter, and the draft sits there and mocks me for my hubris. Y'all know that I have been in a bad way since October of last year. I have felt that I didn't have anything in me anymore. I couldn't make anything. I couldn't do anything other than put one foot in front of the other. I felt like I was only existing to serve other people and that there was nothing left in me that could create joy, much less share it.

Book One was a NaNoWriMo project gone good that I published in 2020. It is also over 100,000 words. At the time, I had the hubris to think that I could duplicate that for five more books in a series that I never intended to create from the jump, but the characters in Book One kept begging me to keep it going.

I fell down a lot in 2021. And in 2022. I barely remembered myself in 2023. Then I fell apart completely in October of 2023, and it has taken until a few weeks ago for me to consider that maybe I should make an effort at continuing to live.

And through all of these dark times, I would stare at the draft and no words would flow. I felt like my skill was dead, and that I was rotting from the inside out.

"I have all these words stuck in me, and they are rotting."

The Memoirs of Papalo Palo was an attempt to see if I could write anything again. If no one knew who was behind the character, then there would be no expectations of quality or quantity. Papalo could write a few paragraphs of observation or pour out his heart to flood the page in grief. No one would care.

No one would care if Papalo wrote something every day or in weekend spurts. It's a fanfic after all, and fanfic writers are notoriously inconsistent with timing.

Today, after I finished copying everything to AO3, I permitted myself the arrogance of looking at the total word count. To be honest, I was expecting no more than 10k for the entire work to date. Not... that.

I'm still crying.

I still have in me to write. I can make the words flow. I can take the thoughts of a character and put it down in a way that others can read, that others can feel.

I'm not worthless. Not yet.

I'm going to continue with The Memoirs of Papalo Palo and post the entries here and on AO3. And maybe, I'll be able to face the draft of Book Two fix that thrice-fucked opening chapter, and get Melissa on her way again.

We'll see how I fare in the light of the Crystal.

[gyroshrike]

if there r no filler episodes in avatar then what about the great divide

Oooooh, I don't know if I want to go sticking my nose into potential Avatar Discourse, but I will just for this because I actually love this episode AND I have strong opinions over what people complain is "filler."

This probably isn’t going to be very organized or concise because if I try to make it too fancy, I’ll take forever to write it and never post it ahaha.

So, for starters, the only kind of episodes I refer to as "filler" is usually for when an anime series catches up to the manga chapters and the production team has to stall by making up new episodes to tide the audience over. To literally fill up empty space.

For example, Naruto episodes 143 through 219 are "filler" because they were never in the manga and they needed episodes while they waited before jumping into Naruto: Shippuden. Then they completely returned to the canon plot.

Filler is what I use to categorize new content written to act as a pause or spacer between canon plot arcs when they don't have enough canon content to work with. AND I usually tend to refer to episodes as filler when they are entire arcs, not just one episode or scene added for fun or to flesh out plot or characters. I'll elaborate on this later.

If a writer goes in, writes a script, and consciously makes the decision to have an episode as part of the story... that's not filler.

People seem so caught up on the Main Plot that they jump to label anything that doesn't technically contribute to moving it along as filler. These people aren't considering that it's not just Plot that makes up storytelling. Every episode of Avatar contributes to the overall experience in some way.

They flesh out the characters—either themselves as people or their dynamics with each other. We get to see motivations, how they think, how they handle different conflicts, who they are as people.

They contribute to world building—the world of Avatar is so rich and interesting, on it's own, but also in its current state of transition as a land shaped by war and refugees.

Immediately this episode visits 1.) the themes of Aang's role in solving conflict and 2.) Katara and Sokka's differing ways of doing things.

Aang is not above simple motivations. Custard tart. He's not some all knowing wise man, he's a person who gets hungry, gets driven by silly things. We also get to see something very important. Aang gets angry, but not very often, so it’s impactful to see what makes him angry. He's not above getting fed up with bullshit. He's realistic and rounded! He gets a chance to get angry at people selfishly putting lives at risk.

There's two rival clans who have the same goal and Aang agrees to protect them on their journey and help keep peace between them. The conflict between the two clans have origins so long ago neither of them can prove which origin story is true, but they are determined to cling to their hate for the other and refuse to work together to the point of endanger their own lives and the lives around them. And right when the fighting is about to come to a head, Aang steps in to say he knows the TRUE origin story and the conflict was actually just a big misunderstanding.

He... He LIES. Aang LIES to end this conflict that doesn't matter! And I think that's so cool. The first time I saw this episode, I thought to myself, "Ah, well that's really lucky that Aang knew those guys. I guess Being 100 Years Old plot point saves the day again. That doesn't bother me, but wow, it sure is a convenient thing." Then, out of earshot, AANG REVEALS THE TRUTH. He totally made up that story! There was no coincidence! That blew my mind as a kid! And that is so much more realistic and it gives us such cool, interesting insight to Aang's character. Aang's moral compass is very strong and he will fight for what he thinks is right. But he's also not unreasonable or stupid to get so hung up on what's "good" or "bad" on paper because, "Oh nooo, lying is baaaaad. We can't do thaaaaat it's wroooong." Which is something I feel like we expect out of characters like him. We see him lie, we see him steal, we see him cheat.

I really think this is a great example of how Aang believes in spreading joy and reducing suffering in the world above all else. Not black and white morality and rules of what a good person is or is not supposed to do.

I feel like shows that have morals to teach often rigidly set their "good" characters (especially characters like Aang) to Never Do Bad Things Ever (which is why Avatar is so good, because it challenges that.)

Lying was the right choice there! It was the smart choice! Aang's job is to keep peace and he made a choice to tell a lie that wouldn't hurt anyone in order to create peace. Between two rival clans! Who have been rivals for a century! And it having such a stupid solution really reflects how stupid the conflict was. It's also a good example on how history can get totally warped until no one knows the truth anymore, but these clans would rather cling to forgotten half-truths and hate each other than seek a solution for a better future.

This episode even lets us see a bit into Katara and Sokka as characters too. Katara sided with the Gan Jin because she believed they were the victims and had the moral high ground. Sokka admits to taking the Zhang’s side, "Because they fed [him]." That's still the show taking time to flesh out these characters for us and deal with a type of conflict they haven't before. We now understand the siblings better as characters!

This episode also gave us more inside into the lengths that people of the world have to go to in order to escape the war. It’s not just this one town or this one group of people. It’s everyone who is feeling the effects of the Fire Nation. We see examples of it over and over and over again and I feel like that is important.

The argument about fun, silly, or side plot episodes being "filler" makes me angry because if those episodes DIDN'T exist, people would complain about the reverse. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people critiquing shows or other media for having too many characters and not taking time to develop them all, for being all action and not taking time to breathe, for not showing us the characters domestic sides or letting them have fun.

Shows deserve to have down time, as do the characters, either literally or from the main plot. It lets us see fun new sides of them, see them dealing with situations we haven't before and in almost all episodes that I see people calling filler, but were written intentionally, we get so much fun character development or insight which is a GOOD THING.

Revisiting the anime thing, let me be clear, I don't think ALL extra episodes or scenes added that weren't in the original iteration is filler. In the Boku No Hero Academia anime, we see a whole pool scene added that wasn't in the manga, along with a scene of Bakugou and Kirishima walking together afterwards (I THINK that wasn’t in the manga, sorry if that’s wrong). These scenes give us just a bit more sense of the class's dynamic outside of school and the growing friendship between Kirishima and Bakugou, which becomes plot relevant later. These kinds of things help better establish the emotional ties between the characters and make it more believable and satisfying when high stakes emotional conflict happens.

In Spy x Family, the anime made a much bigger event out of Anya's school acceptance celebration, a whole episode. Just because they close to drag it out and give it fanfare it didn't get before doesn't mean it's filler. It was just fun! It was just breathing more life into what was there! And that scene gave us an exciting way to see the lengths Loid, Yor, and Franky are willing to go to make Anya happy, (even if Loid frames it as being part of the mission) while giving us the audience a darned good time.

The Owl House production got cut down and basically all the "filler" episodes had to be ditched. Luz pretty much says in the show that we lost out on a beach episode! And we were pissed about that! Everyone would have loved a beach episode! That's what happens when you cut "filler" stuff. We lose out on fun shenanigans and seeing our heroes and how the operate in domestic settings, because people can be very different people in the "battlefield" verses in a home. Or in a dangerous situation verses a fun or safe one. Hunter basically didn't know what to do at first in a safe environment. That's an important thing to learn about characters!

Characters just doing things has meaning. It has use. It has weight. Your story is as much your characters and world as it is your plot. Fleshing out any of those is worth taking the time to do so.

[Aang hate is not welcome on this post]

[byanyan]

decided that i'm gonna do that thing again where i reply to all my drafts without posting them and queue them all up bc i think that's the only way i'll actually get caught up again... i don't want to drop anything more if i don't have to, but at the same time, the longer something is in my drafts, the harder it is for me to reply to it?? so i end up focusing on newer stuff and create this awful cycle of stalled threads that i'm too anxious to touch and akjsfsdkhs IT'S A DISASTER.

i'm hoping that if i do everything and queue it all up again, i'll do better at keeping up with it all as it comes back to me because i miss being consistent with my replies and i miss a lot of these threads!! ...but i think i'll also actively reply to some current stuff, probably the shorter threads, at the same time just so i also have something fresh to bounce to bc i Need that instant gratification of posting things sometimes lmao

when will i start this? ...idk. SOON, but probably not tonight, at least. this post is mostly just to let y'all know that this is the plan and that i AM gonna get back to the older stuff i owe

[eilinelsghost]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks very much to @sallysavestheday and @thelordofgifs for the tag! I don't think I've ever done this one before, so let's give this a try.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 27

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 164,434

3. What fandoms do you write for? Only the Silmarillion

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? - Atandil (part 1 of the series by the same name) - Atanatárissë - Grief in All Her Guises (Atandil part 2) - In Memory Untarnished (Atandil part 8) - Ye Shall Render Blood (Atandil part 4).

5. Do you respond to comments? Yep! I think I have responded to all of them, but I'm sorry if one fell through the cracks there. Comments are honestly a huge part of what keeps me writing and I want to make sure they know I've seen and appreciate them.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably In These Holy Waters? Though I got a lot of screaming in the comments on A Heady Fragrance of Honey also, so I'll drop that in as an honorable mention.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Feeling convicted about how hard this is to find a happy one lol. I think probably By Any Other Name, which was a little Finrod/Bëor fluff piece I wrote for @actual-bill-potts last year.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not so far. Or wait, maybe? There was a weird anon about one of the sentence prompt ficlets on here awhile back where Bëor was having a lot of intentional "accidental-innuendos," but I don't think I'll dignify that by calling it fic hate.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I wrote two (here and here since they're posted anon), but not sure if I'll try my hand at that again or not. It was really a really helpful exercise to work past a lot of baggage I still had from growing up in a very conservative family where shame was the prevailing attitude toward anything related to sex. But I don't know that I'll write more - it's very out of my comfort zone 😂

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I'm not sure what a crossover is, so that probably means no?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! One of the aforementioned smut pieces was just translated a couple months ago.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not so far, but @actual-bill-potts and I periodically joke about co-writing a modern Finrod/Bëor AU so who knows what might happen :)

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Surprising no one but myself (I was initially a hater and reread the Athrabeth to prove to myself it was impossible...and came out of that with a series that's 135k and counting), it's Finrod/Bëor.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Probably this Dior Eluchíl idea. I'm very attached to it, but I think I may have permanently stalled on it.

16. What are your writing strengths? Worldbuilding and dialogue, I think? But I'm horrible at listing strengths (looking at you dreaded resume process), so it may be something entirely different. These are the ones I feel most confident about, at least.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Humor, believable flirtation, battles, politics, trade strategies etc etc etc

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I do this occasionally in Atandil, but I tend to like it less for full dialogue and more for passing words - if Balan is hearing Finrod say something to another Elf in order to stress the otherness, or if they each fall back on words in their own tongue when not finding the right one in the other's. I think full dialogue would be a struggle for me.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Silm - first and only!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Oh god. Uh. I do not know. I'm particularly fond of Darkly the Sundering Flood - one of the few I was genuinely pleased with from the get- go (normally I have a 1-2 week hate period after I post anything). But And Still the Light Returns is also a top contender from Atandil because I really enjoyed exploring the parent-child dynamics between Balan and both his sons. Also because of the duck story. I dearly love the duck story.

Thanks so much for the tag! I've been out on a work trip for the last week and not on Tumblr much, so I have no idea who has been tagged in this so far...just ignore this if you've already had one. 😂 Tagging @that-angry-noldo, @searchingforserendipity25, @outofangband, @melestasflight, and anyone else who would like to join in!