#bully rangi hours

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Rangi just doesn't....have any rights in this house. u_u

[iamtaran]

WIP game! The 72nd Cycle 👀 many of my faves + intriguing premise

Yeeessssss blessings on your family, cow, etc.!!! This is 100% one of those fics of "I want to read X and it doesn't exist, so I guess it's on me." Please enjoy C: I really like writing characters reuniting, and side character POVs of the mains, and so!

Setting the scene: Din, in need of a place to lay low, heads to Mos Pelgo to beg his friend the Marshal's hospitality. He agrees to allow Din et al to stay the night, but Vanth finds himself faced with a difficult decision: repaying the Mandalorian's kindness, or protecting the people of Mos Pelgo from the danger that follows him.

Clear air, a sandstorm somewhere out in the Sea set to scrub the town clean, and there was fresh caf in his canteen. A damn fine morning, fumed Marshal Cobb Vanth.

It was his first thought when he woke up in the tepid damp of his own sweat that smelled like another nightmare and too much ale. In naught but his skivvies, sweat tickling its fingers down his throat. Crusts still in his eyes. Between one moment and the next he was awake and thought, Sorry, partner, you and that catatonic lump of linens on my couch gotta go. He swore and climbed dissolutely out into the beatific air.

Mos Pelgo had few laws, simple ones as far as some places in the galaxy go. They wrote them together, and Vanth as Marshal followed them. Any situations when it wasn’t clear what was best, they’d all of them meet up in the basement of the cantina and hold a council down amongst all the liquor crates and bread root flour, and jabber until a decision was reached.

There was nothing grey about what Vanth the Marshal was meant to do here. The responsibility to vet those who came through fell on him. Which meant the responsibility of telling those who brought too much heat to Mos Pelgo to skedaddle, politely and otherwise, was also his as well. 

That would be his duty today. 

It felt wrong, not just for who the Mandalorian was, but that it would be from his home. His. Chase the two of ‘em out of the corners like they’d snuck in when his back was turned, nudge them gently but firmly out the door with the side of his foot, s’kkt, s’kkt, like trying to bully the local stray out before it spreads fleas in the nice rug. Sorry, buddy, you know I like you fine, but…

This to the man who rolled up steel plated and deceptively mild and changed all of their lives. Vanth had figured him the holder of the bad end of a number of sticks until he saw the kid. Then it was maybe just one, maybe two. 

And then the bastard helped him kill a dragon for the low price of Vanth selling a piece of the man’s own culture back to him. He’d taken care of their trouble, but when he shows up with troubles of his own-

Sorry, Mando, but with no dragon around we just cain’t keep you.

Headachey and a little hungover, and in desperate need of at least another two hours of sleep, Vanth shambled squinting out into the den to see about breakfast. Instead of finding grey quiet and a couple sand lizards scuttering for cover, he found sulfur yellow light drooling out the propped door to the fresher. Inside and equally startled to him, the Mandalorian stared back from where he leaned strangely deflated against the sink basin.

Deflated because, stripped to the waist with only his helmet and the arms of his flight suit wagging disconsolately about his legs, he was surprisingly… person-shaped. Broad, but not nearly as much as the armor made him seem, and rangy through the arms. It was that moment Vanth knew with great certainty that he was flesh and bones, partially because he saw every muscle bunch and freeze with the type of surprise that makes an animal bolt.

The rest came when, no longer held taut, the bandages Mando had been fixing about his ribs escaped to slither down his waist, and Vanth saw what was underneath.

Cursing, he shouldered his way in.

"What-"

The fresher was not large. Mando reeled back like some undiscovered space would open up for him to slink in to. 

Vanth could have told him it was futile. Already straining to contain ten square kilometers of Mandalorian, the fresher had barely enough room for him to wedge his boots up against the opposite wall. Which is maybe why he jerked back with a strangled sound when Vanth hiked a leg over and thrust himself into the only space left. 

The Mandalorian's shoulders shot up to his ears.

“Vanth,” he started. 

Vanth batted Mando’s hands aside. It gave him his first good look.

“What the hell is this?”

Mando prickled at his harsh tone.

He looked like a dewback had tried to kick in his ribs and nearly succeeded. Considering Vanth had seen idiots turned to mincemeat by an ornery dew, it was an ugly comparison for an ugly wound. He hadn't even known bruises came in all the colors Mando was sporting,covering the whole of his right side.

“There a good reason you were hiding this? I’m assuming no.”

Mando proved him right with a stony silence. From so close, Vanth was front row to the tendon in his neck jumping and pulling tight. He nodded once.

“Karking bounty hunters,” he announced with feeling and grabbed for one unraveling end of bandage. Jumpier than a fathier, Mando twitched and made a concerted effort to set Vanth on fire with his mind. Easy enough to ignore, especially with his hands busy with the mess Mando had left. It was pathetic.

“This is pathetic.” Vanth sucked his teeth.  “What was this gonna do for you, really?”

“Nobody asked you,” Mando snapped, defensive. 

“Sure didn’t,” Vanth agreed. 

“I don’t need your help.”

“Uh-huh.” He did something obnoxious with his eyebrows.

Mando twitched without Vanth even having touched him this time. The Mandalorian’s apparently boundless restraint was finding its borders real fast. Well-accustomed to the signs of his own imminent slugging, Vanth put his money on the mitigating gratitude from the night before and hoped his luck would uncharacteristically hold.

“You should have said something last night. Could’ve done you up then,” he griped, proving why his luck was what it was, and then added testily, “straighten up, more like you’d normally stand.” 

A pointed thump to Mando’s instep startled him into an indignant shuffle. 

An awkwardly mincing dance followed as they struggled to reorient too many limbs in too little space. Proving Vanth right, Mando could barely lift his arm on that side, and a twist too far made his breath audible even past the helmet. ‘Don’t need help’ my ass.

Vanth briefly considered feeling for a break himself. A glance up at Mando ominously still visor made him re-evaluate. 

Just to check, “You sure those aren’t broke?”

Mando scowled with his entire body as answer.

Whether they were or weren’t, bandages were the best Vanth had at hand. And so he went about applying them, while Mando managed to provide minor inconveniences at every available turn.

Despite the silence, the injury said a lot more than the Mandalorian was maybe willing to divulge. Its edges hadn’t even started to green and yellow up. The heat off it radiated furnace-like on the backs of his fingers. 

Vanth was like most from Tatooine. He’d seen a lot of hurt done. Which is why he knew it was only a couple days old, at most, and painful. Vanth couldn’t tell if he was more annoyed or sympathetic.

“Making the ride out here with busted ribs - you’re something else. Ootmian,” he added under his breath. After a beat, “So what is it? Too proud to ask for help?

“I didn’t need help,” Mando replied immediately, then hissed when Vanth tightened the pressure. One of his hands flashed out to grab him. “Vanth!”

Like all bounty hunters, Mando could read a room. The change in this one had him freezing about a half-tick after Vanth. When Vanth shook off the hand that had seized his wrist, Mando let him. 

His hand had been cold. Vanth, meanwhile, felt hot across his shoulders, his neck. He saw his own eyes reflected back when he squared up to the Mandalorian’s visor.

“You wanna tell me you weren’t having any trouble, then?” 

Unfooled by the extreme mildness of his question, Mando said nothing. Vanth nodded anyway as if he’d spoken. 

“That’s what I thought. You got your pride, Mando, but I got mine. You’re the one who asked me for hospitality, which around here means more'n just shelter and water. This is it. Now, you gonna let me finish or are we gonna have words?”

After another moment, conspicuously silent, Mando’s helmet inclined a bare centimeter. Vanth nodded back. The Mandalorian remained about as comfortable with the handling as a feral tooka.

Being so close gave Vanth's curiosity some fodder to chew on despite his best intentions. Mando had a spectacular scar down his left flank about which Vanth couldn’t help but speculate. And on the other side, dark where the other was white, a long, shiny dimple where a blaster bolt had creased him just beneath his floating rib. Those always left the same, distinctive burn. This one couldn’t have been more than a month old. 

Looking at it, sympathy pangs zinged through him. A glance up told him Mando had glued his gaze to the opposite wall. 

Despite his exasperation, Vanth wasn’t in the game of torturing folks. Even if they were spectacularly hardheaded. 

“So.” No matter how conversational, his voice made the other jerk. He pinned the bandage in place before it could sluice off. “What exactly took exception to your having ribs?” 

Mando unclenched his jaw with visible effort (and that had Vanth’s gaze flinching away, realizing that just under the helmet's lip he could see-)

“Droid.” 

“A droid did this?”

“...Battle droid,” Mando allowed. It clearly pained him to talk when he was this unhappy. Vanth didn’t feel a sympathy pang this time. “Bigger than humanoid standard - closer to Devaronian height. Found out pretty quick it was blaster- and fire-proof.”

Vanth whistled down at his hands. If he didn’t look up from his work, it’d probably be better for the both of them. In theory.

“How’d you destroy it?”

“Got it-” Mando hissed abruptly. Vanth murmured an apology and tried to avoid jostling him again as he checked the tension of a final few coils. “...Got it with a spear under the faceplate.”

Huh.

“A spear.” 

“Yep.”

Damn helmet, but Vanth would have paid to see what expression Mando was making behind it. Bet he’d clear me out at sabacc. 

“Blaster- and fire-proof, and you’re telling me you killed it with a pointy stick?”

For a moment Vanth thought he’d jostled the wound again and opened his mouth to apologize. It was only then he recognized the rasping in the Mandalorian’s throat for a laugh. 

“A pointy stick made of beskar.”

...Huh.

“Huh,” said Vanth intelligently. “Yeah, that’d bout do it.”

In an unexpected twist, Mando produced a bottle of spray bacta from thin air (or, a pocket in his flight suit) and handed it to him rather than trying to apply it himself. Vanth took it with his fingertips. It was one of those little canisters about the right size to come from a field kit. 

He’d only seen it in expired surplus. Never like this --mostly full, and even the date was good. It gave him pause more than the wound had. 

When Vanth asked him where he’d found it, Mando shrugged. The movement translated somewhat awkwardly given one of his hands was propped on Vanth’s shoulder to get his arm out of the way.

No bigger than his palm, but enough to treat Vanth didn’t know how many fingers and arms broken in the mines. Using it like this was extravagant, especially for a bounty hunter. He couldn’t help how his nose wrinkled.

“Grabbed it from Jabba’s palace,” Mando answered at last, sounding winded. Bacta on deep bruising like that must have felt like being injected with coolant. “There were store rooms of it. Fett said I could take what I wanted.”

Well, if Fett’s paying… Vanth gave him an extra spritz. 

Of course, as he was tucking that final bit of wily, squiggly bandage into place, that damn thought. Just on the underside of the unwieldy stone of a conversation Vanth had dropped between them and had the audacity to demand Mando help carry. You can’t stay here, Mando. We don’t need any Devaronian-sized, missile-resistant super droids rolling into town looking for you. He sure felt like something on its belly hoping against hope no one tipped his rock over and found his ugly self underneath. He mumbled some excuse and retreated to his room to finish getting dressed, and to wonder if he could just stay under this particular rock forever. 

The Mandalorian, in his mind, had remained unchanging from how Vanth remembered him. Steel; determination; a juggernaut that sometimes moved slow enough to play at being mild, up until he really got some momentum going and could take out the world with dispassionate violence. Vanth had wondered - well, anyone would wonder, he thought defensively to no one; it was just, well, it was natural to - but Vanth hadn’t actually tried to picture him under all that shine and armor weave. He hadn’t tried to imagine that there was a body inside there. 

He couldn’t have imagined the Mandalorian with a blood-hot bruise that would hurt him the way it would hurt Vanth himself, the kind that made you hiss through your teeth and move like an old man. Or that he hid rangy arms the same sunless pale of a skink’s belly where they weren’t composed mostly of scars.

That was all of him, really. Gossiping scars, calluses in odd places where armor met the borders of the person wearing it. Dark hairs on his chest and down his belly which rolled at the waist band when he leaned forward. The Mandalorian was human. The Mandalorian had a belly button.

There was a man living in there. It was a revelation. 

Vanth had thought his morning couldn’t get any worse.

[brightideawritings]

Ahhhhhh, I only finished "The Rise of Kyoshi" on Sunday but immediately my mind has been overtaken by Kyoshi's story. Especially, her lovely relationship with Rangi! So, in order to get this fire out of my head I wanted to explore some events of the books from Rangi's perspective. Here is the first chapter surrounding the events of the first few chapters.

------

Burning Thoughts

Chapter: Mansion

Ragni did not give her opponent the time to react to her attacks, her fists blurred in front of her in a storm of quick jabs, she felt the heat of her chi travel through her arms to her hands and burst forth as incandescent fire, “Yaaaaah!” she let loose her war scream as the storm of fire burst across the training room at a blinding pace. Any lesser bender would have balked under the sudden barrage - a non-bender would have ran for cover. Rangi’s opponent did not stand idle or run for cover but instead stepped into the oncoming attack. Her opponent raised a right leg in Crane stance and brought it down in a single motion - an arc of fire sprang into being and cut through Rangi’s barrage like it had all been nothing. She noticed with ire that the force of the new flame snuffed out many of her own fire jabs - again, as if they were nothing.

Rangi’s mother, Hei-Ran, former headmistress of the Fire Nation’s Royal Training Academy for Girls was not like most opponents.

Her mother’s fire cut came directly for Rangi, and she had to bite down a curse - due to the fact that she was acutely aware that unless she wanted to go up like a light torch she needed to move aside. Again she cursed to herself as she leapt to her right, as soon as she had cleared the flame she had already begun to move her body into a low body crouch for a counter-attack but as she had predicted would happen her mother had used the momentary lapse in her daughter’s offense to close the gap between them with blinding speed. Time seemed to crawl to a snail’s pace as Rangi’s body settled into a stable enough stance that she could use another firebending technique to produce a double wave of flame by bringing both of her hands upward - anything to force Hei-Ran away. The bout would be over as soon as the older woman was within arm's length of her - again a fact she was acutely aware of that seemed to nonetheless scream inside of her head.

No sooner had she let the chi ignite with her arms swinging upward she cut off the flow of flame which winked out as quickly as it had appeared. She had not been fast enough.

“I yield,” Rangi said, she forced herself not to wince - more at the disappointment and frustration in her own voice than Hei-Ran’s fist inches from her face - though her mother had not ignited her firebending she could still feel heat radiate from them. A common technique that Rangi knew how to do as did every single firebender - it was a threat, a command to surrender. Still, the emotions she breathed was nothing next to the controlled response from Hei-Ran.

“I’ve seen children half your age with stronger fire jabs than those fire lights, Rangi.” Hei-Ran looked down at her. Firebending did not come from an outside element like that of the other arts - but from the chi inherent in a firebender’s own body - the power to create fire at a whim was powerful and dangerous. The first lessons that were drilled into Rangi and every firebender she had even known was control over their emotions. To lose control was to become nothing more than a chained beast belching flame in utter futility.

“I apologize,” Rangi bowed in deference - Fire Nation society stressed hierarchy as a core social tenant. In failing today she had disappointed Hei-Ran twice - as a student and as a daughter.

“I know you can do better,” Hei-Ran sighed and nodded her chin down, a mix of pride and concern written over her face, “I’ve seen you do much better. Your calm is off. Something is bothering you.”

An altogether different emotion fluttered in her chest like a bird trapped in a cage. Something must have shown on her face as her mother raised an eyebrow almost immediately. By the spirits, Hei-Ran could be as persistent as a vulturehound - trying to run away from the subject would only leave Rangi tired and on her last legs.

“It’s just...I can’t stand, Kyoshi!” Rangi gasped in exasperation and immediately wished the words would crawl back inside of her mouth.

“Oh?” Hei’Ran’s mouth quirked with no small amusement, “I thought you two were such good friends…”

“I mean...how she acts so meek to those brats in the village!” Rangi burst with a huff, she ignored the fact that they were all just about the same age, “They taunt her and she just takes it like she was made of stone.”

“Hmm. It would most likely go better for Kyoshi in the long run if she had ambushed and destroyed the leader of her tormentors to send an example to the others.” Hei Ran had shifted down into a sitting position, which Rangi had unconsciously copied. Her earlier hesitation warred with the good sense her mother had spoken. She had given similar advice to Kyoshi earlier that day had she not? The moment reminded her that many saw Rangi herself as a smaller version of Hei-Ran, again a common social norm among the old, noble families of the Fire Nation. It was a sign of respect and honor to her mother - though she had to admit there were still a great number of differences between them.

“At times I feel tempted to do so on her behalf.” Rangi said and frowned. She had heard of Kyoshi’s...problems that lived in the village from snippets here and there in the form of gossip between other members of the household staff of Jianzhu’s mansion. Not that she was particularly friendly with many of the household staff - the vast majority of them were not worth the breath to talk to, an opinion she had formed rather quickly from their own whispered jealousies of Kyoshi and their fear of Rangi. Again, not that they had told her any of this directly - she had been trained in infiltration and evasion tactics - and she had learned quite a bit from the staff when they thought their employer or his guests were within earshot.

-

Today had been different from what she knew, the village idiots that taunted Kyoshi had either been too swept up in their petty bullying of Kyoshi or perhaps too hopeful to catch a glimpse of the Avatar. Rangi had spotted the them as they climbed the path back to the mansion, taken in that they had followed Kyoshi well past the the point that Rangi had noted previously they would normally turn back, and had wordlessly used her firebending to propel herself over the perimeter wall and sprint at a full pace around it and then unnoticed into a tree not far from the gate.

A part of her had been extremely disappointed when they had not burst into flame at the single, first look she had given them. That was a firebending technique it was said that could only be mastered by the greatest fire sages, but Rangi had still tried. Instead they had the sheer audacity to run away like the cowards that they were and hurl the jar of pickled kelp into the air. She had tried to get Kyoshi to use her own earthbending but no matter how much she had pushed her friend the taller girl had not moved at all - no, that was not totally true.

Kyoshi had finally acted - by jumping on top of her to save her from what would have been a shrapnel storm of kelp and pottery shards. The memory of it even hours later caused something inside of her chest to feel like it wanted to burst in protest - at Kyoshi or her own actions she still was not sure. She knew several ways to unlock an opponent’s grapple and had exercised their use at plenty of opportunities in the junior corps. When Kyoshi had shielded her Rangi had felt strangely paralyzed in the other girl’s long limbed embrace, she remembered the smell of sweat and earth and it had not been unpleasant at all.

Then she had snapped back into her head and had pummeled on Kyoshi until she had let them both stand. The jar had been fine, somewhere Avatar Yun had been watching them and had saved the day - not that a broken jar would have been a disaster the likes of villages burned and the spirit world falling into chaos. Still, it had needled her that Yun had to have step into the situation at all - it was beneath him. Though, perhaps her reasons were not totally fair. Then of course Kyoshi had gone and said the utterly cheesy yet also charming words of calling Rangi a strong hero that would always protect her.

Rangi had rolled the words over and over in her head so much that she had not even noticed that she followed Kyoshi into the kitchen. She had been surprised but in her mind had executed a well-ordered retreat, she had reminded Kyoshi of her gift duties, then complimented her on her rank of being above a scullery maid and had left. She had memorized Yun’s schedule and she had known he would be in his firebending training with her mother so she had returned to the barracks until they had concluded. Something though had happened to Yun though as when she had arrived to see him only her mother had been there. Before she could press further Hei-Ran had pushed for them to train together.

-

“You are the Avatar’s bodyguard, Rangi, not a servant girl’s” Hei-Ran frowned at her but she noticed there was something off, her mother had paused slightly as if something weighed on the older woman’s mind, before she continued, “You will be his sword and shield, his will and his guide. You must not forget nor waver from your duty.”

“I know mother.” Rangi bowed her head in deference once more. She paused before she continued, she wanted to find the words how important Kyoshi was...to the Avatar, “I just want to ensure harmony in the household around Yun. Kyoshi is...close to Yun” at Hei-Ran’s alarmingly inquisitive eyebrow raise Rangi knew she needed to backtrack, “That is, she often attends to Yun’s needs” a part of her blanched at the possible connotation she had uttered, “She is an ear he can talk to, we are all the same age and she is not someone who expects something from him or a servant who is over-awed by him.”

“I will...trust your judgement on that, Rangi” Hei-Ran replied, “You aren’t mistaken. Yun has requested that Kyoshi join us when we travel to the Eastern Sea to negotiate with the daofei Tagaka and the Fifth Nation.”

“WHAT? WHY-” Rangi stopped herself, she needed to control the volume of her voice. She had practically shouted the words, “Why...why would he want her to come with us to deal with those dishonorable, pirate scum!?!”

On force of habit her hands curled in and out, as if she was squeezing the life out of an invisible person. Yun! What game was he playing at? The Fifth Nation were slaving pirates and despite the promise of a peaceful accord Rangi had very little faith the affair would be bloodless. Why else would Jianzhu also want to bring a compliment of guardsmen with them? He was her charge and her friend but there were times when it boggled her mind about how impulsive and reckless he could be - perhaps he was a fine enough successor to Kuruk.

Her face scrunched together with worry as she thought of all the ways that Kyoshi would be in danger out on an iceberg in the middle of the sea. Kyoshi certainly cut an imposing figure with her height but how could Yun expect a girl who let the village brats walk all over her deal with the presence of pirates?

A thought brought her whirling mind to a sudden crash. If this was all some sort of clever scheme by Yun to impress Kyoshi...

“He said he wanted someone normal there. Kyoshi does fit the girl, besides her height.” Hei-Ran replied again, a measure of amusement entered her voice, “You will have to look out for her when I or Amak are not with the Avatar. Think of this as a new aspect of your mission Rangi. My little tigress”

“Mother!” Rangi blushed at the use of her pet name that Hei-Ran had always called her when she was a little girl. It certainly had become less amusing when the other students at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls had grown taller than her. Hei-Ran only used it now a days when she WANTED to fluster Rangi or distract her. Warfare took many forms on and off the battlefield.

“I am being serious,” Hei-Ran replied, one corner of her lips rose upward in more amusement, “You will have to manage multiple persons and weigh which ones are the greater priority should something occur. Do you think you can handle this?”

“Of course,” Rangi steeled her features, she vowed that no harm would come to Yun or Kyoshi. If anything did come between them she would burn it to ashes. They were dealing with a daofei after all, nothing they could do or say would rattle her.

[cestmoipenelope]

*:･ﾟ✧ - A Walt Questionnaire

1. Describe the character’s height and build. Is she heavyset, thin, short, rangy?

Penelope’s a bit tall for a girl at 5′7″.  She is on the thinner side, obviously, but with a very pronounced hourglass figure, her bust and hip measurements being exactly the same.

2. How old is she?

Twenty years old.

3. Describe her posture. Does she carry herself well or does she slouch?  

Penelope used to have quite a slope in her back, but better posture came with the weight loss.  Nine times out of ten, she holds herself very regally, with her chin tipped up, but when she gets angry she begins to hunch.

4. How is her health? Is she fit or out of shape? Any illnesses or conditions? Any physical disabilities?

She tries as best she can to keep her weight in check.  She’s never had any serious medical conditions - not even so much as a broken bone.  And she can bench press a hefty amount for a girl her size.

5. How does she move? Is she clumsy, graceful, tense, fluid?

Penelope has two forms of movement: either graceful and flighty or jerky and forceful, and it all depends on her mood.

6. How attractive is this character physically? How does she perceive herself in the mirror?

Well, Penelope will tell you that she’s one of the most attractive people on the planet and anyone who doesn’t agree is out of their minds.  In reality, though, it’s neither here nor there.  She has a very symmetrical face, if you want to get technical about it.

7. Describe her complexion. Dark, light, clear, scarred?

Penelope doesn’t have to resort to the very lightest shade on the makeup shelf, but she is still on the pale side.  She has been known to use self tanner during the warmer months, particularly on her legs.  Her acne has calmed down considerably since her pubescent days, thank her lucky stars, but her skin does tend to dry out.  She carries sun lotion with her everywhere, just in case.

8. Describe her hair: color, texture, style.

Here’s something Penelope will absolutely murder you for if you ever repeat it: she’s not really a blonde.  Her natural hair is a mousy, in between blonde/brown color.  She’s been having it professionally dyed ever since she was eleven, first to a lighter golden blonde, and most recently to platinum blonde.  Her hair is very full, but still naturally straight.  Sometimes she’ll leave it as is, other times she’ll spend hours in the morning curling it to perfection, or anywhere in between. 

9. What color are her eyes?

Cornflower blue, according to her.

10. Does the character have any other noteworthy features?

She has just the slightest ski-slope nose, which she’s very proud of.

11. What are her chief tension centers?

She has been known to get migraines in her left temple when she gets particularly overemotional.

12. What is the character’s wardrobe like? Casual, dressy, utilitarian? Bright colors, pastels, neutrals? Is it varied, or does she have six of the same suit?

One of Penelope’s many mottos is “better to be overdressed than underdressed!”  She prefers to wear skirts and dresses, but isn’t afraid to whip out a pair of well tailored trousers if the need calls for it.  She owns exactly one pair of jeans.  And if it’s less than sixty-two degrees outside, she won’t leave the house without a pair of gloves.

13. Do her clothes fit well? Does she seem comfortable in them?

Penelope isn’t afraid to suffer a little bit for great fashion...as long as she doesn’t have to stay in such an outfit for too long.  That being said, most of Penelope’s clothes are tailored for her and sit on her quite comfortably.

14. Does she dress the same on the job as she does in his free time? If not, what are the differences?

No matter what the occasion, Penelope manages to squeeze her own style into the recommended fashion.

15. You knew it was coming: Boxers, briefs or commando?

Well...let’s just say Penelope takes her underwear very seriously, and has a pair for just about every occasion.

Speech

1. What does this character’s voice sound like? High-pitched, deep, hoarse?

She always sounds like she’s talking in her head voice.  The pitch is definitely on the higher side, with just the slightest grate to it that, naturally, gets more noticeable when she gets angry.

2. How does she normally speak? Loud, soft, fast, evenly? Does she talk easily, or does she hesitate?

Penelope doesn’t make a habit of using her “inside voice,” and her mouth gets ahead of her brain very easily.  If she does need to collect her thoughts, she uses a lot of dramatic sighs to take her time.

3. Does the character have a distinct accent or dialect? Any individual quirks of pronunciation? Any, like, you know, verbal tics?

In case it hasn’t been made clear, Penelope has a very mild obsession with the French language, despite the fact that she can’t actually speak it, and likes to sprinkle her sentences with the few French words she actually knows.  She starts to sound a bit like Zsa Zsa Gabor if she’s not careful.  Otherwise, she just has a standard New England accent.

4. What language/s does she speak, and with how much fluency?

English, about twelve words in French, about ten in Spanish, and about six in Italian.

5. Does she switch languages or dialects in certain situations?

See above.

6. Is she a good impromptu speaker, or does she have to think about his words?

Use your imagination.

7. Is she eloquent or inarticulate? Under what circumstances might this change?

Penelope can be extremely eloquent around people she’s trying to impress, but around everyone else - even people she likes - she can be...oh, how shall I put it...a bit abrasive?  

Mental and Emotional

1. How intelligent is this character? Is she book-smart or street-smart?

Penelope is far smarter than she looks, or even than she lets on most times.  Some of that is book smarts, but most of it from the fact that once Penelope dedicates herself to something, she won’t let go until she’s become an expert.

2. Does she think on his feet, or does she need time to deliberate?

Penelope’s idea of “thinking on her feet” usually ends up with somebody getting punched or karate chopped, so...you tell me.

3. Describe the character’s thought process. Is she more logical, or more intuitive? Idealistic or practical?

Penelope is very dreamy and very passionate.  She often has very little trouble making up her mind about things based on her (very shallow) priorities and it can be more trouble than it’s worth to sway her to the other side using pure logic.

4. What kind of education has the character had?

Penelope’s been a private school girl up until college.

5. What are her areas of expertise? What, if anything, is she interested in learning more about?

Ask her anything about fashion, and Penelope will tell you the designer, year, season, cut, style, fabric, who influenced it, who modeled it, and how the journalists reported about it the next morning.

6. Is he/she an introvert or an extrovert?

Penelope is what we would call an “outgoing introvert.”  She loves being in the company of others, but it can be extremely taxing on her at the same time.  She dedicates certain time out of her week to spend just with herself, and if you manage to interrupt it, so help you God.

7. Describe the character’s temperament. Is she even-tempered or does she have mood swings? Cheerful or melancholy? Laid-back or driven?

Penelope can be cool as a cucumber one minute and white hot with rage the next.  But her mood does not change without provocation, I will tell you that.

8. How does she respond to new people or situations? Is she suspicious, relaxed, timid, enthusiastic?

It depends on the situation, really.  I can tell you that Penelope is particularly territorial with the people she cares about *cough Kaiden cough* and that can lead her to interpret even the most innocent of conversations in the worst ways.

9. Is she more likely to act, or to react?

Oh, Penelope’s a reactor.  Definitely.  She’ll hardly move a muscle without something to prompt her, but just that one shove and off she goes.

10. Which is her default: fight or flight?

Um.  Fight.  Always.

11. Describe the character’s sense of humor. Does she appreciate jokes? Puns? Gallows humor? Bathroom humor? Pranks?

It really takes a lot to get a good, hearty laugh out of her.  Something between intelligent humor and just being plain silly is usually the sweet spot for her.  It can’t lean too much one way or the other.  Toilet humor is her least favorite, and jokes at other people’s expense...well, that usually depends on whose expense its at.

12. Does the character have any diagnosable mental disorders? If yes, how does she deal with them?

Not at the moment.

13. What moments in this character’s life have defined her as a person?

The two biggest ones are the death of her father and that night of the homecoming dance where she finally decided she was up to here with her bullying.

14. What does she fear?

Not being considered important, be it by her loved ones, her colleagues...honestly, being ignored or forgotten is one hundred times worse than being bad at something.

15. What are her hopes or aspirations?

Fame, in a nutshell.  She loves fashion and she does want to help women feel comfortable and beautiful in their bodies, but she knows that she can do so much more than that and turn herself into a triple, quadruple, or even quintuple threat if she put her mind to it.

16. What is something she doesn’t want anyone to find out about her?

In this new environment, she will do whatever she can to keep the history of her “pudgy days” six feet under.  Or the fact that she can’t really speak French.

Relationships

1. Describe this character’s relationship with her parents.

OH BOY WHERE TO START.  Penelope has a rough history with her parents, to say the least.  Her mother conceived her long before she was emotionally ready to have a child, and made it particularly clear that she didn’t want Penelope when she wasn’t avoiding her like the plague or drowning herself in alcohol.  Her father, on the other hand, was kind and funny.  Always gave the best advice, and always protected her from her mother’s terrible influence.  He only wanted the best for her.  After he died, everything just went absolutely downhill.  Unfortunately, though, her father had a long history of infidelity, and that Penelope could never approve of.

2. Does the character have any siblings? What is/was their relationship like?

Funny you should mention that.  Penelope just found out that she has a half sister she never knew about, and is currently trying to cope with that fact.

3. Are there other blood relatives to whom she is close? Are there ones she can’t stand?

She barely knows any of her grandparents.  She knows she has cousins on her mother’s side running amok somewhere, but would honestly prefer not to meet them.

4. Are there other, unrelated people whom she considers part of her family? What are her relationships with them?

Not at such a point in time.

5. Who is/was the character’s best friend? How did they meet?

Aurora Capulet and Kiara Santucci.  It was really just fate in both instances.  Once Penelope found out that they were nothing like those snooty girls she went to high school with, she adored them each almost instantly and refused to let them out of her life.  They are the friends she always wanted back in grade school, but never actually got.

6. Does she have other close friends?

She considers Daphne Blake a kindred spirit.  The two are so similar and just get each other.  And Sally Finklestein is more like an adopted daughter in her eyes than just a regular friend.  She would do anything to protect her.

7. Does she make friends easily, or does she have trouble getting along with people?

To put it kindly, Penelope is an...acquired taste.  It’s a small miracle if she doesn’t find something wrong with you on your first meeting.

8. Which does she consider more important: family or friends?

In spite of her strained history with her own, Penelope will choose family over friends every time.  There’s a great deal more responsibility to be held there.  Fortunately, if you manage to become close enough friends with her, she will consider you part of her family.

9. Is the character single, married, divorced, widowed? Has she been married more than once?

She is currently in a relationship with Kaiden Russell and she has never been happier as a human being.

10. Is she currently in a romantic relationship with someone other than a spouse?

Don’t make me laugh.

11. Who was his/her first crush? Who is his/her latest?

Kaiden Russell is her forever and always.

12. What does she look for in a romantic partner?

Penelope wants someone to treat her like a princess, plain and simple.  She wants all that cheesy romantic stuff: candlelit dinners, carriage rides under a full moon, long walks on the beach...all of it.  He has to be handsome, gentlemanly...and never look at another woman ever.  The end.

13. Does the character have children? Grandchildren? If yes, how does she relate to them? If no, does she want any?

Jumping to the Next Gen timeline for a hot minute, Penelope has four beautiful children whom she would die for, and would most definitely murder for.  Having four kids within five years isn’t easy on anybody, especially through in vitro.  But as she can’t remind them enough, none of them are for decoration.  She sees something of herself in each of them: Norma’s dedication, Paul’s cleverness, Francis’ self-preservation, and Kathleen’s sharp tongue.  As well as, bittersweetly, a little bit of her parents.

14. Does she have any rivals or enemies?

Um, Alec Moon, so jot that down.

15. What is the character’s sexual orientation? Where does she fall on the Kinsey scale?

Penelope is a solid 2 in Kinsey terms.  Under very special circumstances, she is capable of falling for a woman, but otherwise she is all men all the time.

16. How does she feel about sex? How important is it to her?

Penelope doesn’t see any shame in it.  She knows that she herself is a highly sexual person, but doesn’t think less of anybody else for lacking a sex drive.  And honestly, Penelope gets more out of foreplay than the actual deed itself.

17. What are her turn-ons? Turn-offs? Weird bedroom habits?

Honestly, her idea of a perfect time is just sitting in a low lit room, feeding each other chocolates and necking.  Like, a lot of necking.  She’s a huge necker.  A well-cut man in a well-cut suit will leave her weak in the knees.  And if you can play an instrument, major points right there.

Beliefs

1. Do you know your character’s astrological (zodiac of choice) sign? How well does she fit type?

Penelope is an Aries, typically observed as feisty, competitive individuals, and on the surface that fits her very well, but dig a little deeper and the less Aries-like she becomes.

2. Is this character religious, spiritual, both, or neither? How important are these elements in her life?

Penelope has never been religious.  She does, however, a habit of going through “bursts” of spirituality.  Such as meditating with crystals to realign her chakras for a week straight, and then she won’t do it again for maybe five or six months.

3. Does this character have a personal code of morals or ethics? If so, how did that begin? What would it take to compromise it?

Well, Penelope has a very “eye for an eye” way of looking at the world, so her landscape of morals is really rather gray.  She does have a few things she considers just pure evil and won’t do under any circumstances, but those are few and far between.

4. How does she regard beliefs that differ from hers? Is she tolerant, intolerant, curious, indifferent?

She tries her best to be indifferent, particularly with people she doesn’t know very well, but more often than not she fails miserably.

5. What prejudices does she hold? Are they irrational or does she have a good reason for them?

Most “prejudices” Penelope has are very surface level and usually disintegrate in anywhere from a few minutes to a week.  But as far as real, deep assumptions about a person’s character, she doesn’t even bother.

Daily Life

1. What is the character’s financial situation? Is she rich, poor, comfortable, in debt?

She’s far from the top one percent, but Penelope is still very well off, as exemplified by the labels in her closet.  And she uses this luxury to her absolute advantage.

2. What is her social status? Has this changed over time, and if so, how has the change affected her?

Penelope used to be pretty low on the totem pole thanks to all the bullying she dealt with in school, but she climbed herself up by her fingernails by God.  And it wasn’t a pretty climb, either, but that’s what happens when you’ve finally reached your limit.  She’s always wanted to be at the top, so she only feels like she’s finally where she’s meant to be...even if some might disagree.

3. Where does she live? House, apartment, trailer? Is her home her castle or just a place to crash? What condition is it in? Does she share it with others?

There’s her dorm room which, despite its cramped parameters, she has grown quite accustomed to.  It’s far and away from feeling like home; more like a long-term hotel room.  And then there’s the Hainline loft back in New York, which is beautiful in its decor, but hopelessly hollow ever since her father passed and she and her mother...came to terms, as it were.  At one point in time, the loft felt like home.  Now it just feels like an empty shell.

4. Besides the basic necessities, what does she spend her money on?

A better question would be what doesn’t she spend her money on?

5. What does she do for a living? Is she good at it? Does she enjoy it, or would she rather be doing something else?

Well, currently she’s still in school, and she wouldn’t be caught dead having a job and going to school at the same time.

6. What are her interests or hobbies? How does she spend her free time?

Fashion design, being pampered at the salon, reenacting her favorite movie scenes alone in her bedroom, practicing karate, and silently judging you from across the room.

7. What are her eating habits? Does she skip meals, eat out, drink alcohol, avoid certain foods?

Penelope’s system is very straightforward: very filling meals with very little snacking in between.  Obviously, she does cheat now and then.  She’s only human.  Give her a break.  But for the most part she sticks to it.  She’ll allow herself champagne or a nice wine on festive occasions, but no hard liquor of any kind.  She also refuses to eat pork.  Don’t ask her why.  She just won’t do it.

Associations

Which of the following do you associate with the character, or which is his/her favorite:

1. Color?  Lilac 2. Smell?  Floral perfume 3. Time of day?  Late night 4. Season?  Winter 5. Book?  Emma by Jane Austen 6. Music?  Piano jazz 7. Place?  On stage 8. Substance?  Um, love and adoration...? 9. Plant?  Tulip 10. Animal?  Pig, obvs

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

How Rangi woke up in Yokoya everyday until Kyoshi became the Avatar she bagged Kyoshi: