#but for me? personally? it was a canon event. ill never be the same or emotionally recover

[so-very-small]

watching one g/t fan date another like. it’s a canon event. i can’t interfere

[orchidbreezefc]

ok. years have passed and we've had some distance, so i'm finally gonna take the leap of faith that tma fandom is finally ready to hear me on this. let's talk about tannins.

161 was the first tma episode i heard on early release, and i felt the bit where martin declines wine and cites tannins was pretty obvious in its implications. cool, got it, say no more.

imagine my surprise when i was one of maybe three people i saw read between the lines there, in a fandom famous for red stringing--a fandom that immediately caught the much less obvious thread of ignition sources in the same episode. i'll spell it out: alcohol is an issue for martin.

maybe it just felt obvious because addiction is a pet issue for me--as it is for jonny, who has said everything he writes is filtered through a lens of addiction. i don't know if that's due to his own experience or a loved one's, and i won't speculate; i also don't know if martin personally struggled with drinking or just avoids it for fear he would, but alcohol would fit what we know of his family. his dad walking out and his mum spiralling into bitter wallowing and verbal abuse? i'd bet one or both of them drank, yeah.

on a basic level martin tries to decline alcohol, and that alone should have raised eyebrows given what we know of martin and, again, a fandom that dissects everything. we already knew martin "K" blackwood lied about his personal life and his family in particular, especially pre-canon, which is when this flashback took place. i was shocked that everyone took his flimsy excuse at face value with no further questions.

and the excuse is flimsy. martin turns down wine by--nervously--exclaiming tannins are "a proven headache trigger!" which sounds like trivia from a magazine cover and not the words of someone who actually has headaches--and it hasn't come up before or since. jon, confused, points out that tea, a drink martin consumes to a degree that is memetic both in- and out-of-universe, also contains tannins, and martin squawks a panicked, "what?!"

if tannins are enough of a concern for martin that he knew they're in wine and so avoids it, why didn't he know they're in his drink of choice? why does he still drink tea at the time of canon, and why doesn't he struggle with constant headaches from consuming 'a proven headache trigger' day in and day out? why, indeed, would someone avoid wine and not tea?

when sasha insists martin drink he caves and agrees to 'just a drop'. i imagine him pouring it in a plant, which admittedly he could have done if tannins really were the issue. i will say that i, for one, would be less likely to falsely agree to something that makes me physically ill than to a private issue that i'd rather not be pressed on any further. this scene also establishes martin's birthday was an ice cream party instead of the more traditional visit to a pub.

also, this scene was in the first episode of the final season, as one of three flashbacks that could have been to any pre-canon event in the archives. prime narrative real estate. not really time one would waste on establishing the important character context that martin has... headaches. which never comes up before or after, even regarding the week he spent in spiral town. but you know what is pretty crucial character background...?

it felt like a no-brainer, and yet all i saw was h/c fluff about jon attending to martin's headaches. and i hate feeling bitter about disability representation. i want folks with chronic headaches to feel seen and have fluffy escapist fantasies. i don't want to be mad about people portraying a character with a disability. but, guys? you got the wrong disability. jonny sent a clear message, and it went over fandom's head.

[musashi]

like the thing is, if you acknowledge that miles edgeworth has PTSD, you have to acknowledge that adrian andrews has DPD. the clinical terms are never spoken allowed but they are highlighted in terms that make it clear that is what is happening.

miles never says he has PTSD but he does say "my brain blocks out this memory's clarity as a coping mechanism." he does say he has chronic nightmares of the event in question. he blacks out, he loses function, characters call his triggers "fears" but we have enough information to understand it's far more deep-seated than that.

and the same is true for adrian. the game repeatedly tells us that her personality is disordered. in the re-release, with terminology corrected, the word "dependence" is constantly spoken not as a trait but as an ailment she lives with, something she does not by choice but because she literally cannot stop without intervention. like miles, she is canonically neurodivergent, with a suicide attempt in her past and canonical therapy that she attended after.

while none of these characters ever look to the camera and say "here is my diagnosis" the way the characters talk about their very specific neuroses make it clear that they're meant to divert from the typical way a brain should act and function. like it's not just me being like "teehee mental illness headcanon" it is very clear that, even if takumi and his writers did not know if DPD was a real thing (hell, the DSM might not have even had that specific diagnosis at the time) they knew that adrian had it just by existing in the world around people who probably did.

and yet no one ever talks about it. like

[teatitty]

One of the more interesting things about Iruka is that he's one of our only adult characters who saw the fox attack up close. We're shown in chapter... 500 something that Kurenai, Gai, Kakashi and Asuma were already locked outside the barrier when the attack happened and were protesting this fact, trying to get in to help but Kurenai's dad told them that they weren't allowed to because they are the future of the village, confirming he [and everyone else helping out] knew he was likely going to die when he went back in

But Iruka wasn't outside of the barrier when the attack happened. He was inside, with his parents, and saw the destruction up close and personal. He was standing there with them when they were bruised and bloodied and only got away because they had a fellow shinobi yoink him off to safety

Most fics tend to have Kakashi in his ANBU gear involved with this attack but canonically he was just as helpless as everyone else and wasn't anywhere near the centre of all that death and destruction. Iruka knows Kurama in a way that Kakashi just doesn't -- it's like when you watch a Godzilla movie and there's people who see Godzilla's wrath from a distance but they don't have nearly the same level of trauma, PTSD or fear as the one's who were there up close when he went nuts

And yet. And yet! Iruka bears no ill feelings towards Naruto at all. Sure yeah the anime has a flashback scene where he initially struggles and gets advice from Kakashi but that's only in the anime - in the manga, there was no such scene at all and he got over any and all struggles largely by himself which is why him and Mizuki being this sort of parallel to one another is so interesting to me!

Iruka was willing to move past it to help Naruto but Mizuki could never fully let go of his anger and hatred towards the thing that killed his family

I have no real point for this post outside of the fact that I wish this angle of Iruka was explored more in fics, instead of 9/10 changing the canon to have Kakashi as his ANBU saviour. Those are cool and I like them but there is just something so juicy about how much their experiences of that event differ just for the fact that Kakashi and company were outside the barrier from the start and Iruka was not

He would have crazy PTSD fuelled nightmares I think :)

[b0njourbeach]

So what are your thoughts on TreyKei?

They're besties, they're worsties. They're married and have two cats (then again, Trey seems to be more of a dog-person. Maybe a dog and a cat?), they'll never be a couple. They love each other, they'll never be able to love each other.

I'm so physically ill about them and their unlimited possibilities.

There are so many thoughts in my head and knowing that you always liked my rambles, I won't try to hold back and let it all out for once haha. I can't promise that I'm being able to express it all because you can imagine my thoughts as followed: Idia, Malleus and Jade infodumping about their special interests while Kalim screams for funsies in the distance and Cater runs around as if he's on a sugar rush - All of it happening at the same time, of course.

Anyways.

You can have Friends to Lovers if you want to, you can have a slow burn, you can have a fall in love on first sight, Friends with benefits, one sided affection, Angst in every shape and Form, a million different AUs that still fits them.

I personally see them both being bisexual. I'm not sure how to explain it but if I had to give an example of a bisexual, it would be them. But here's the thing: I genuinely can't imagine Cater being able to 'love' in the classic, romantic way - I'm not sure if it's projecting onto him or a deep understanding of his personality but I just can't see him being in love as your average romance novel describes. He shows his love in other ways and I swear by hell itself, Trey is one of the main targets of that affection (in my opinion, at least).

If you ask me, he has a lot of commitment issues due to his past and the lack of stable friendships. There are also some nuances of trust issues mixed in that, due to the learned mindset of "It won't last forever" that he had acquired throughout his life. He keeps people at an arms length, possibly to protect others and himself for the, eventually coming, parting. "If I don't get attached too close, it won't hurt as bad."

We can, in fact, see Cater do this in canon - Especially with Trey because he sees through his act. I do love to point out the Wish Upon a Star event where we have a, in my opinion, very important scene and I do have to admit that I honestly got emotional at the end of it: Trey asks Cater what his wish is - Having more success on Magicam (which is one hell of a predictable answer if you ask me). Trey points out he did wish for that the past year, remembering it from the time they shared a room. Cater then wishes for his life to be "chill", and they part ways. Standing in the Heartslabyul staircase, Trey talks to himself on how one 'would think that Cater would open up a bit more by now.' Following with a (in my opinion it sounded sad/upset) 'But maybe he does already. Just not with me.' (I do recommend to watch the scene on your own to get your own impression on it. You can easily find it on YouTube).

Yet, despite the seemingly distance, they're still considered a duo that is unsurprising to any student (Lilia calls Trey Caters Partner and Rook refers to Cater as Treys "Boon Companion").

I had the HC for a long time that Cater may try to escape his issues at home by going with Trey instead and only later I found out that it's not too far from canon. Trey most likely also knows about Caters' situation at home, which is seen in multiple different situations - which, if you ask me, is already a deep trust coming from Caters side.

Overall, they know each other's strengths AND weaknesses and know how to match each other well. Whether it is Cater boosting Treys confidence about his looks or Trey pointing out Caters skills in Astrology (and many other things but I ain't gonna point every single of them out rn).

Speaking of weaknesses and strengths: Remember how Trey called Cater out after Riddles OB?

[Including the Manga panel because Boy, do I love this one]

A while ago, I've read through Caters Birthday Boy Voicelines and you know what? This guy has been gifted a "diamond-shaped quiche" from "a student". While no names dropped, we all know who made this one - Especially because Cater does seem to be quite fond of Treys general cooking and baking, if it's not sweet, of course. Not that I can blame him, spicy dishes aren't easy to make. You can fuck them up easily and if your man can cook 'em well, you better marry him.

But enough of Cater, there is too much to unpack about him to show it all. Let's move on to Trey, which is not as easy as it first sounds like. Why, you ask? Well, because he's showing even less than Cater! Both of them are chronic actors, both hiding their true, their damaged, their 'weird' faces - acting to be 'normal', to not freak people out, to not make them worry. Trey is a really good example of the 'oldest child' syndrome, which is, in return, quite bad for him - But that turns his friendship with Cater into a positive thing. Ahem, one step at a time.

Why is Trey a perfect example of the 'oldest child' syndrome? Well, he's "oh so normal", yes? Or so they say, after all. If you're the oldest child, you need to be a certain way - not only for your parents or your siblings but for your own safety. As the oldest child, you're bound to be a "test subject". No matter how good your childhood may have been, your siblings will have a seemingly, easier path - Things you weren't allowed are suddenly okay for them to do. Your siblings have an older sibling to rely on while you, as the oldest, had to fight alone. You need to protect the younger ones because it's expected but you need to keep yourself running too because no one does it for you. By being born first, you're practically forced to be in a position of a role model, a teacher and a friend.

Especially if you're having odd interests, such as oral hygiene, mustard, hats and what-not - You are forced to act normal because you will be looked at weird otherwise (I mean, he's friends with the perfect example on what happens if you express your "weirdness" out loud: Rook Hunt). I really like to put Trey on a scale when it comes to "Acts normal, is weird" because if you're weird, there are three types:

1. Rook Hunt - Expresses weirdness out loud with no shame

2. Jade Leech - Suppresses weirdness but the suppression has become weird on his own because he's weird in quiet

3. Trey Clover - Swears to be normal and is successful for the most of it, does show weirdness in little moments

All three of them have different reasons, and valid ones once you realize why they're that way, to be the way they are but in the end, they're three weird people who have learned how to "express" their oddness.

[Disclaimer: I am not using weird as an insult. This term is used to refer to socially not as accepted behavior or actions that are frowned upon. In other words: I am using society's definition of "weird" and not my own.]

Anyways, despite being the oldest child he is, Trey still shows Cater a bit of the truth: Instead of awkwardly smiling when he's uncomfortable, Trey stops smiling if he's with Cater. And in the Vignette of Treys Dorm Uniform, we can see that Cater knows a few more faces of Trey that are rarely seen otherwise - In the given example: It was Treys pettiness, deserved but it was still a rare emotion. If I recall correctly, this Vignette was the only time where we had seen Treys' pettiness, which was quite satisfying to see but that's just my two cents.

It's just so genuinely fascinating to see how similar yet so different they are, it makes both of them a tragic lovestory (if wanted) that drags me across the entire planet and I'd thank them for that.

And what I personally find almost mesmerizing is Caters actions: On one side, he seems to keep Trey not too close, yet he seems to have a lot of trust in him and I think it's unintentionally mentally messing with him because it may not be intentional. I could see that Trey might have this specific vibe that makes Cater feel comfortable and chatty about topics he wouldn't often talk about (specifically when they're both alone). Another guess of mine is that Cater might make too many jokes about certain parts of his trauma/issues and instead of his other pals, Trey actually looks behind the "jokes" because as much coping with humor may help, it's still a way to vocalize pain. But Trey doesn't strike me to be the type of actually calling Caters jokes out the moment he does them (example that I just made up: "Man, my phone died. Wish that was me lol" "Cater, those jokes aren't funny" etc etc). I think he'd have a more subtle way of showing Cater that he saw through that laughing, such as speaking up when it feels appropriate (Book 1) or just acts of service and/or quality time - Simply showing him that Cater does have someone who listens.

I've lost track at least five times and I forgot half of what I wanted to add.. Man, I hate my brain sometimes. I also often try to express my thoughts about these in my memes - In fact, the Memes with/about Cater, Trey or both of them together are possibly the posts where I'm carefully inspecting if it fits the canon and my own pov of them. I do it for all my memes, of course but I want people to deeply understand how much of a disaster those two (both, on their own and together) are because it's extremely overlooked, in my opinion (especially Trey).

Anyways, have this very neat HC of mine that I have about those two because it has been rotting away in my brain (I had intended to add more HCs but it somehow doesn't fit in the text):

Whenever Cater uses his UM 'Split Card', Trey knows which Cater is the original one. They may be identical but Trey can still tell the difference. How? He isn't really sure himself, it might be just his instinct. Cater has made it a game at some point where he wants Trey to guess and has tried many ways to lead his instinct astray but he has yet to succeed.

Edit: For more rambling about those two, do check the reblogs :)

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog - Dofus, livre 1 : Julith [PART 25]

(trying to pretend I didn't cry about Julith and Jahash while writing the last post) reblog to slap his bald head.... like to slap his bald head....

I talk a lot about Joris probably hating Julith and Jahash, — but I think the things he feels are infinitely more complex.

And yet still perfectly describable by the word hate. It's just what makes sense for Joris to feel about them, in his future.

He probably hates them for how things turned out, yet he kept the surname. He probably hates Bonta for what it did to them, and yet tries to make Bonta better by being a part of the exact system that did these things.

He's going to grow up a little hypocrite who masks his feelings with twenty layers of obfuscation.

Ehh. I would say they were like one fifth of him, compared to the "catboy cultural upbringing" parts and personality traits directly influenced, borrowed, or modelled after Kerubim Crepin's 20 Mental Illnesses.

This is a pretty cold comfort. He won't even know his birth father's voice, or his mother's favorite salad.

He won't even know if he sometimes does little gestures that are just like Julith and Jahash.

Joris has always been caught between darkness and light, I think. From his parents being a Brakmarian and a Bontarian, to his father and uncle hating one another, and marching to these cities aid, to these two dofus.

[guy who headcanons Joris to have OCD voice] [guy who is insane about what Joris says in Dofus MMO voice] There's a lot of tragedy in this because I feel like he spent a lot of his life trying to chase away the parts of him, Bonta, and his own family that he didn't like.

The best he can say for himself is "it's not that dark dragons are evil, it's that they have Evil Thoughts because of magic, and maybe I do too, but me and Grougalorasalar are just more based than those other guys."

But at the same time, what is it, if not acceptance of how things are, that allows him to love Grougalorasalar? To try and understand Atcham? To accept, and very likely in the future, avenge, Julith, and decide to keep his surname?

To love Bonta despite how horrid it is.

(smiling) His trademark multitudes. He can do for others what he can't do for himself. Yaay.

This is quite a tragic moment to me. It's a promise doomed to fail. He can't protect these two forever. He physically can't do that.

Does Joris think of this promise as he sees Leorictus Sheran-Sharm start off the chain of events that leads to the huppermage genocide, Ivory Dofus in hand? Does he think of this as he watches Ogrest's Chaos happen?

Does he think of this, as he sees Grougalorasalar, free, with centuries between them, not spare him a single thought for him despite all the ways he shaped and carved his body into his own vessel?

Does he think he failed, or does he think this folly of his youth? Might he be bitter?

I think Joris may have grown to love Grougalorasalar more than Grougalorasalar could ever love him back. This dragon has always been a part of him, but to Salar, Joris is just a little blimp on his lifespan.

Joris and Kerubim are so alike in the bitter, bitter, tragic divorce-despite-never-being-married department. Imagine being rejected by something that has been a part of you for your whole life. I would literally not survive that

I don't trust the way they're looking. They look like they're going to make a video titled "spilling the tea..." saying Joris plagiarized their makeup tutorials.

I bet they're the two evil fucking huppermages from the Brotherhood of the Forgotten, that never got elaborated upon. THEY HAVE THE SAME FUCKING HAIR AND EVIL STARE.

It is canonically known that there are ways for mortal huppermages to prolong their lifespans, y'know...

The Grimalkine sisters when they reveal in the Wakfu manga that 1. they're a part of the Brotherhood of the Forgotten, and 2. that they killed Joris's dad (and mom) for the recipe of the Elixir of long life, referenced in Dofus MMO, or whatever. (they already reveal this in Dofus 2 but Dofus 2 isn't real (outside my Visions) so they have to take out Joris's trauma in front of Wakfu cast as exposition, despite them having literally no context to any of this).

(Source: this all came to me in a dream.)

Their name LITERALLY means "an evil fucking demonic cat"

Life ruining experience by far.

HE DESERVES THIS. Also, look at the way he supports her leg!! So cute.

[qprpbj]

it makes me physically ill to think about months after Johnny and Dally’s deaths, the boys are sitting at the dinner table and Ponyboy makes some offhand comment about Darry hitting him and Daryl just breaks down. all the walls crumble and he’s a mess, because he keeps pushing down the fact that he believes he is a bad person. and then Pony is at a loss for what to do because he’s never seen Darry like this, but Sodapop is getting flashbacks to Throwing In The Towel and seems to know exactly what’s happening. I am so invested in Ponyboy and Darry fix-it fics because I think Darry feels soooo much guilt for hitting him and he keeps bottling it up. like oh my god. just- so sad

i am so invested in THIS can you please write a fic abt it fr. i think he def carries a lot of heavy guilt for a longggg long time like years after canon and never really gets over it even once pony starts coming to peace. therapy isn’t really a thing for them tbf but goddd do these boys need it. BUT also at the same time i think it’s sort of a situation of like. darry’s not perfect either and he’s still darry, he still gets needlessly angry sometimes and takes it out on people even if they don’t deserve it, even if he doesn’t really know why he’s doing this to himself and to others. idk grief and healing and abuse cycles and (intergenerational) trauma. allllll the things play a role it’s not as easy as ppl think it is!!!! he doesn’t want to hurt pony or fight but sometimes he yells and he can’t help it!! its who he is and there’s generations of abuse and trauma working against him and since its the 60s he doesn’t have the verbiage or knowledge of how to break trauma/abuse/etc cycles like we do. like it’s absolutely not as easy as one traumatic event occurring and suddenly they’re perfect siblings again. darry i love you 🙁

[myfairstarlight]

The Innocent Game of Flirting

AO3 Link.

Rated: T

Length: 10.8k

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Penelope Featherington

Canon Divergence

Based on the replies on my jealous Colin post here.

Summary:

It is the 1812 season. Penelope Featherington, out in society a year too early and watching the love of her life court her cousin, refuses to wallow in self-pity. Determined to escape her family home, she resolves to secure a proposal. Following a piece of advice from Daphne, Penelope successfully attracts the interest of a suitor in Lord Remington. However, her little scheme brings about unexpected consequences. Or: A season 1 AU where a determined Penelope uses her friendship with Colin to practice her flirting skills, leading to a very confused and flustered Colin, who soon forgets which Featherington lady he is meant to be courting.

*additional notes on ao3

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Penelope grins as she unveils her new dresses, devoid of that horrid yellow she was forced to adorn in her first few social events. Instead, an array of light pink, green and blue now adorn her wardrobe and she could not be more pleased.

“Thank you Papa!” she exclaims, hugging him despite his stiff demeanour.

“I will never hear the end of it with your mother,” her Papa sighs, even as he hugs her back with one arm then pats her head. “But you’re welcome, darling.”

She hums, bouncing on her feet as she releases him. She can now prepare for the ball tonight with a sound mind. The plan worked much more efficiently than she expected, as her Papa managed to resell the old yellow gowns, giving her some extra pin money, and she had Eloise to thank for such a success.

“Your Papa has a soft spot for you, does he not?” her best friend had said, the night after Penelope’s first ball, wherein she spent the whole night sticking to walls. “And you have two older sisters, as well as an older cousin out in society with multiple suitors already, surely your Mama will focus on them first. If you stubbornly refuse to attend events, she will leave you be but your Papa might notice! He’ll ask what’s wrong and voilà, you get better gowns than those ill-fitting yellow atrocities.”

“And even if he does not notice, frankly, you will not miss much at these balls,” Daphne had sighed. “Outside of my brother being insufferable.”

Her wardrobe is now sorted out, but there is still the issue of… well, her personality. For that, Daphne is the one who gives her a piece of advice when they find each other at the Vauxhall Ball.

“Your personality is dazzling as it is,” the other debutante chides. “You simply need to be comfortable, and courtship is meant to do just that— allow you to get to know someone so you may feel comfortable enough to speak your mind.”

“But for that, I would need to not chase them away with my awkward ways in the first place.”

“Well, some gentlemen like that. My brothers never seem to mind!”

“Your brothers have known me for years, it is hardly a good argument.”

“But you never tried flirting with them! It can be good practice, without the pressure of securing a proposal at the end.”

Penelope hums at that. Daphne is right, it could be good practice. Although she hardly sees herself trying to flirt with Anthony, she knows Benedict would humour her and so would Colin.

And if it could allow her to let her feelings about the latter out without any consequence…

“So… how does one flirt?”

“Men are rather simple creatures, my brothers are no different, though they pretend otherwise. Feed their ego, compliment them, but do not appear too eager.”

“Uh…”

“Oh! Anthony is heading this way, I must go,” Daphne says suddenly, promptly untangling their arms and fleeing towards the garden.

“Wait Da— Oh well.” Penelope pouts, watching her go, and then raises an eyebrow when she catches the Duke of Hastings also disappearing in the same direction after avoiding Lady Danbury.

Penelope is about to follow suit, curiosity guiding her thoughts, when she hears a familiar voice call her name.

“Pen!”

She startles, promptly twirling around to see Colin approaching.

“Colin!” She curtsies. “I did not know you would be here!” she says, trying to contain her excitement but failing miserably at it.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Colin jests. “Have you seen Miss Thompson?” he asks next as he looks around.

The smile drops from Penelope’s lips, which she promptly hides behind her hand as she pretends to be thinking. She knew Colin to be deeply infatuated with her cousin, but she expected at least some remark from her friend about her absence in previous social events, instead of asking about Marina’s whereabouts. No such luck, she supposes. 

Daphne’s words echo into her mind again, and resolve settles in her heart.

“She is ill,” she responds, watching the disappointment fall on Colin’s face, “my mama had to stay home with her, my papa had to chaperone tonight.” She points towards her father who’s already downing his third drink of the night, if she has counted correctly.

“It is quite a shame,” she continues, “you look dashing tonight.”

“I—” Colin stammers, clearly taken aback. Penelope tilts her head, does he not think her honest in her compliment?

“I am being earnest!” she insists. “Of course, you always do. This outdoor ball just brings out quite a whimsical atmosphere, do you not think?”

Colin seems to finally find his composure as he smiles fondly. “I agree, it is a breath of fresh air compared to the usually stuffy ballrooms.”

“Exactly!” she chuckles, fiddling with her dance card. She recalls Daphne doing the same to incite gentlemen to sign it, without outright asking for it. The movement draws their eyes to it, and a gentleman never denies a lady a dance, even if the request is unspoken.

“And— you look whimsical as well, Pen,” Colin compliments, making her flush, “that charming green dress suits you finely, one could mistake you for a mystical wood fairy.”

“Colin, you flatter me!”

“I am being earnest,” he repeats her words with a bright smile of his own.

Penelope chuckles — she was right, Colin would humour her without a second thought.

“Mr Bridgerton,” a grating voice interrupts their conversation and Penelope barely holds herself back from rolling her eyes as Cressida Cowper suddenly appears, not so subtly pushing her aside.

“I believe you owe me a dance this evening, and I have only one space left remaining on my card at present,” the blonde debutante coyly says, dangling said card in front of Colin’s eyes.

“How convenient,” Penelope slips out.

Cressida promptly spills her drink on her, and Penelope gasps, jumping back at the sudden coldness hitting her skin. Fortunately, the forest green of her dress hides the stain that the lemonade would have left but Penelope can hear the women accompanying Cressida already giggling and whispering between themselves. She turns around, willing her tears not to fall, but refusing to let Cressida see how affected she is by her action.

“I’m afraid I cannot offer you that dance, Miss Cowper,” Colin says, disdain barely hidden in his innocent tone.

A gentleman never denies a lady a dance.

“I am to escort Miss Featherington to the dance floor.”

Huh? Penelope turns around, blinking away her tears while Colin simply offers his hand, blatantly ignoring the gawking debutantes and a scowling Cressida witnessing the whole scene. When Penelope fails to move, too stunned, Colin gets closer and simply takes her hand and leads her away.

Penelope follows along numbly.

“Colin, you did not have to do that,” she whispers as they take their place on the dance floor. A quadrille.

“I needed a reason to not dance with her, frankly,” he says. “And I wanted to dance with you, too.”

The dance begins before she can think of an answer.

Well, he is just humouring her again now. They used to practise dancing together, before either of them was out in society, in the safety of the Bridgerton drawing room, yet he never expressed a desire to dance with her ever since. At her first ball, she had hoped — foolishly perhaps — that Colin would ask for her first-ever dance, if not as a suitor, at least as a friend, but his eyes quickly settled on Marina and the rest of the room had faded. And now, this instance does not stem from Colin’s desire for her company, but rather his desire to escape Cressida’s vicious claw, is it not?

Even so, Penelope smiles. This remains her first dance as a debutante, and although she wishes to move on, she can at least cherish the fact that this first is with Colin.

“Well, you are my favourite dance partner, after all,” Penelope says suddenly, during a short pause in the frantic steps of the dance. “Did you know?”

“Mm?”

Their hands join as they spin together, never breaking eye contact.

“Your eyes shine the brightest when you are kind. I think I can easily get lost in them.”

Colin’s step suddenly falters, and Penelope almost steps on his feet. Colin promptly winds an arm around her waist so she does not trip. She squeaks, she hopes discreetly, at the way her friend effortlessly lifts her up and then resumes the dance like nothing was amiss.

As the dance ends and they bow to each other, Colin clears his throat.

“Thank you.” His voice cracks. “You’re—” He never finishes his sentence. Penelope almost feels bad at his flustered state.

Daphne was right, flattering men is easy. Penelope grins, emboldened by this successful attempt. She turns around and catches the eye of a gentleman, alone by the refreshment table, with two glasses of lemonade in his hands and a bored pout on his lips. Lord Remington, if she recalls correctly. He raises an eyebrow, maintaining eye contact and Penelope makes her decision right then. She will enjoy her night!

“Well! Thank you for this dance Colin,” she says, “I am quite parched now.”

That seems to startle Colin into reality. “Oh, I can fetch you—”

“No, it is alright, I shall take this as an opportunity to scour for suitors, should I not? Have a good evening, Colin!”

She cannot quite help the way she bounces on her feet, perhaps a bit too eager, as she makes her way to Lord Remington. Fortunately enough, the gentleman only chuckles, as he offers her the extra glass.

For the rest of the evening, she shares two more dances with Colin, who seems rather reluctant to dance with anyone else since Marina is absent, but she spends the rest of her time discussing with Lord Remington at that same refreshment table. When she comes home, she hugs her father once more for the evening — he only half-heartedly returns it as always before disappearing into his study — and collapses on her bed with a relieved sigh.

She still had no name on her card, as Colin monopolised her night otherwise — though she did take it as an opportunity to practise putting her heart out in the open — but it is a start.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

A week or so passes like any other, surprisingly enough without any nagging from Penelope’s mother about her new wardrobe — in fact, her dear mother seems quite distressed about something else, refusing to give more details regarding Marina’s condition and forbidding all her daughters from seeing their poor cousin. 

Penelope does not see Colin nor Lord Remington at the next events in that period either. She knows Lord Remington had business to attend to outside of London, as for Colin, she simply assumes that with Marina indisposed, he is not bothering to entertain other interested debutantes.

(Though, now that she thinks about it, she has not seen any of the Bridgertons at social events at all, not even Daphne or Anthony.) 

On her part, she has tried to speak to suitors again, and she managed short conversations with Lord Debling and a certain Lord Basilio the night before, but she did not feel the same easiness with them as she did with Colin or Lord Remington. And she still has no name on her dance card.

With her mother refusing any visitors for the duration of Marina’s mysterious illness, Penelope could not exactly secure a caller either. It simply feels like a waste of time.

However, that morning, her father abruptly declared that they would be accepting visitors, forcing Marina out of the prison that her room had begun to become.

Therefore, due to Marina’s absence from past social events, her long line of suitors are quite eager to see her again, so it is no surprise that as soon as calling hours fall upon their day, a few gentlemen are already announced. Penelope swiftly finds her place by the windowsill to read, expecting a lively afternoon for her cousin, but a rather boring one for herself, that is, until their footman Briarly announces:

“A visitor for Miss Penelope.”

Her sisters and mother exclaim in surprise, meanwhile, Penelope manages to maintain her composure, somehow. She jumps to her feet when Lord Remington is escorted in.

“Miss Penelope!” he greets with a boyish smile that has Penelope giggling. “For you, dear lady.”

Flowers! Ironically enough, yellow ones, but she is much too elated to care about such triviality. Penelope grabs the bouquet carefully, a wide smile stretching her lips.

“Thank you, Lord Remington,” she says. “I did not expect your visit…” she admits sheepishly.

“That was rather rude of me to not tell you I was back in London indeed, but I wished to surprise you. Your father owed me a favour as well.” Oh, that explains why her father insisted they open their house to society once more, although when she looks at her father, he guiltily looks away. “And I was much eager to continue our last conversation.”

Penelope playfully gasps. “My, have you heard more about Lord Fife’s failed attempts at charming maids?”

Lord Remington chortles. “Perhaps so! Although, I was also hoping to learn more about you, Miss Penelope.” At that, he offers his hand and Penelope gently reaches for it with her free hand. Swiftly, he deposits a kiss on the back of her glove and she turns bright red.

She can hear her mother gasping, a mix of surprise and delight. She refuses to look in her sisters’ direction, however.

“You two might feel a bit crowded in this corner,” Portia chimes in then. “Prudence, stand up and go sit with Philippa instead, let your sister and her suitor be there.”

Prudence glares but eventually listens and stands from the armchair near the fireplace. Penelope has to bite her lips not to grin in triumph.

Therefore, she sits down on the armchair, setting the flowers on the small table near it, while Lord Remington angles his wheelchair so they can comfortably speak to each other. Penelope rests the book she had been reading on the arm between them as they engage in conversation.

Penelope loses track of time afterwards. Her discussion with Lord Remington feels easy, and natural, though she fails to find it anything other than friendly as her heart has not fluttered once outside of that kiss on her hand. She also cannot find it in herself to place any flirty comments to perhaps stir the conversation into more courting material, but she is quite enjoying his childhood tales and hearing all the gossip he seems to have amassed within his family. Perhaps she does need more practice after all… she cannot remain a friend in the eyes of another gentleman she is trying to pursue after all! She refuses to be stuck in that situation a second time!

“Pen,” a familiar voice calls her suddenly and she startles. Lord Remington, on his part, only tilts his head with a raised eyebrow at the intrusion.

Or at the awful familiarity with which this other gentleman has just addressed a lady.

“Oh, Colin, good d—” She is interrupted by Colin suddenly shoving a bouquet of lilies and lavender in front of her. “Thank you…?”

Colin beams, eyes shining akin to a puppy getting praise.

It takes her a few seconds to realise Colin is also kneeling in front of her.

“Uh. I thought Mr Bridgerton was announced for Miss Thompson,” Philippa comments. She probably meant to whisper it, however, the middle Featherington girl has never been good at keeping her voice down.

A heavy silence ensues. Penelope catches Marina’s narrowed eyes, and she is not quite sure if she is supposed to say something — she is just as lost by Colin’s behaviour, and she hopes her confusion translates into her gaze.

“Well, I realised I never gifted Pen anything before despite our years of acquaintances and my many visits here, that makes me an awful friend, does it not?” Colin says eventually.

Friend. Right. Penelope smiles, trying to ignore that familiar feeling of disappointment tugging at her heart.

“Thank you, Colin,” she whispers, as chatter fills the room again. “Have you met Lord Remington?” she asks, not recalling if the two ever exchanged even pleasantries at the Vauxhall Ball.

“We’re familiar,” the latter says. “Though we have not spoken since Eton, have we, Bridgerton?”

“Indeed, Remington.”

Lord Remington narrows his eyes. “So, how are you?”

“Fine.”

What a stilted conversation.

Penelope bites her lip, eyes going from one gentleman to the other and coming to an uncomfortable realisation — they look alike, do they not? Brunettes with deep blue eyes, along with a boyish and charming smile. Oh dear, did she unconsciously seek someone similar to Colin, at least in appearance?

“Will you be staying on the floor, Mr Bridgerton?” Portia asks, confusion apparent in her voice. “We can get you a cushion, at the very least. Although I believe there is still a seat near Miss Thompson available.”

Penelope sees Marina not so subtly shoving a suitor away, forcing the poor gentleman to stand up.

“Oh!” Colin blinks, looking rather lost himself, and he nearly loses his balance, if not for Lord Remington grabbing his arm before he could fall. “Uh, thanks.”

“No worries,” the other gentleman smiles. “Your lady awaits you I believe.”

Penelope gives a bemused smile when Colin looks at her as if asking for guidance. Eventually, although reluctantly, it seems, Colin stands up and takes the seat next to Marina.

“The room is getting rather crowded,” Penelope says, as many others of Marina’s suitors have arrived in the meantime. “Shall we go to the garden, my lord?”

“Please!” the gentleman agrees, letting out a low chuckle. “Some fresh air would be wonderful.”

Penelope quite agrees.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Unfortunately, at the next ball, Lord Remington is not present; he did inform her it would be unlikely for him to attend events where dancing is at the centre, which unfortunately tends to be most of them. The Vauxhall ball just happened to intrigue him with the promise of the light show.

Truth be told, it is a bit frustrating — her father has told her that though Lord Remington specifically asked to call on her, the gentleman has not requested permission to start a proper courtship with her. She wonders if, once again, she found herself a friend, rather than a suitor.

She is not sure where she has failed, once isolated in the garden of her childhood home, she had complimented him the way she had with Colin, and Lord Remington seemed rather unaffected compared to the way Colin had reacted, instead of stumbling with his words and turning a subtle shade of red, Lord Remington had simply smiled and thanked her, giving her compliments of his own.

Her heart also did not flutter at his words, but that was to be expected. Although determined to marry, she knows a love match is not a possibility, for her heart is too stubborn to let go of the man she was born for, but who was born for another.

Even so, she supposes she must entertain other options than Lord Remington, as kind and funny he is, lest she still spends most of the season clinging to walls once more.

“Our host looks a bit fussy,” a familiar voice suddenly says behind her, startling her. “Do you think if he goes to bed we all have to leave?”

Penelope chuckles. “Colin!”

Colin grins cheekily. “It is lucky the lady produced an heir before the old earl croaked, no?”

“Lucky indeed,” she agrees, unconsciously leaning against Colin’s side. “But do you not think the boy bears a passing resemblance to Lady Trowbridge’s footman?”

“Penelope, what a barb!” Colin chuckles before he reaches for her card.

Instinctively, Penelope pulls it away before he can catch it. She regrets it immediately when Colin sends her the saddest look she has ever seen on a human being.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“What are you doing?” Colin counters. “I simply wished to secure a dance with you.”

“... Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

Yes! The desire to court me! She does not say that.

“Well, there is no notion of securing a spot on my card, as it has remained empty, and you know this. I hear Miss Thompson has yet to leave the dance floor, however.”

“I have already spoken with Miss Thompson, all her dances have been claimed indeed.”

Penelope is unsurprised, however she keeps her dance card close to her chest, even with Colin’s hand still hovering in front of her. Perhaps it is petty, but she already had her first dance as a debutante with Colin, and she wishes to have an actual suitor as the first name on her card.

Eventually, Colin seems to understand she will not relent, so he clears his throat. “So… you and Lord Remington?”

“What about him and I?”

“Are you considering him a proper prospect? He’s… young…”

Penelope blinks.

“Colin, he’s your age.”

Colin gapes as if he has forgotten this fact.

“... My point still stands, somewhat. He may not be as serious as you about courtship.”

“Colin, thank you for looking out for me, but you do not need to.”

“Pen that is not…” He pauses. “You love to dance.”

She narrows her eyes at the sudden statement. “Careful before you utter a rude remark.”

“What? Oh! No, I did not mean in regards to his… oh this came out wrong,” Colin stumbles on his words, cheeks turning red in shame. “Simply, you love to dance, and I know you and Lord Remington have… started… uh, a courtship.”

“Do not sound so pained and surprised,” she deadpans, not bothering to correct him anyway.

“But you do not need to deny dances for his sake,” Colin continues, ignoring her remark. “You are not a claimed woman. Should you not entertain other suitors?”

Well, do you see any lining up for my hand?! She almost petulantly answers. Instead, she takes a breath, turning her gaze to the dance floor, where she meets Marina’s eyes for a brief moment. She currently is dancing with an old earl, and looks rather displeased about it — is it cruel of Penelope to despise how ungrateful her cousin is with the natural attention she has brought to herself? Even so, she sends her a supportive smile and does not miss the way Marina’s eyes flit towards Colin for a second.

“Are you volunteering to start my empty list?” Penelope mutters, more of a derisive question than a true request. Before she can find out if he heard her, however, she tugs at his sleeve. “Would you do me a favour?”

“Mm? Of course.”

“Miss Thompson seems rather eager for a rescue.”

Marina’s name seems to startle Colin into reality. He straightens his back. “Oh! Indeed she does.”

Penelope’s heart flutters and breaks at the same time at the hopeful look now in Colin’s eyes. “You’re so cute,” she says  — because she has gotten used to being honest. “Now go.”

“Pen what did you just say—”

She nudges him onto the dance floor before he can finish his question. She then promptly blends into the crowd and leaves the ball early, feeling quite defeated and refusing to admit the fault may lie with her treacherous heart.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

That very night, Marina tells her, in an elated voice, that she has settled her attentions on Colin at last, praising his kindness, his humour, and, more importantly, his youth. Penelope only smiles and wishes her and Colin the best, in a voice she hopes is not half-hearted.

And yet, in the days that follow this declaration, in which Colin visits almost daily, Penelope senses a shift in Marina, she who once treated her gently the way her sisters never did, her cousin now is rather cold, looking at her with apprehension and resentment, though no cruel words leave her lips, at the very least. It makes Penelope itch — she thought she finally found a friend in this dreadful house but it seems she was being naive.

Perhaps it is fate being gentle on her, but just as Marina has decided to regard her as a hindrance, a certain Mr Finch starts to show interest in Philippa, prompting the latter to cling to Penelope as she asks her younger sister for advice — and to have an ear to gush to about the loveable cheese-enthusiast gentleman. As a result, Penelope spends many of her afternoons with her, Mr Finch and Lord Remington around a cup of tea.

(That is when Colin does not decide to make an appearance to steal some cookies from Penelope’s plate every time.)

And yet, as the days pass, no proposal seems to be on the horizon, for any of the ladies in the house. Penelope is not surprised for herself, Lord Remington has not shown any sign of seeking a wife this season despite his flirtatious ways, but Mr Finch seems so besotted with her sister that she is surprised they have not already eloped. As for Colin and Marina, she had been so sure that as soon as Marina started denying her other suitors, Colin would jump on the opportunity to secure his future with her, he who seemed so eager at the beginning of the season.

Penelope has heard the servants talk, however. She knows of her father’s gambling addiction and the very possibility that her and her sisters’ dowries may have gone into one of his dangerous and reckless games. Marina’s dowry, separated from their fortune, should still be intact, however.

She suspects the lack of proposal and this rumour may not be unrelated.

When they get an invitation from the Bridgertons for Daphne and the Duke of Hastings’ engagement party, Penelope cannot help the sense of foreboding taking over her heart as she catches her mother and Marina sharing a conspiratorial look. Even so, she turns to Philippa instead who excitedly intertwines their arms, insisting that they must invite their suitors as well. Penelope agrees wholeheartedly.

Only to learn they cannot.

“It will only be a small gathering, the Duke insisted, and we forgot to put the details in the invitation,” Colin explains later that day when he visits. “You are old friends of the family, so Daphne insisted you must come.” Penelope has to stop herself from laughing. She knows he does not mean the rest of her family. “Oh, and this is for you, Pen.”

He hands Penelope a copy of Sense and Sensibility. She gasps, successfully distracted.

“I heard the wedding is only a week from now, that is rather quick, was your sister not just being courted by the prince?” Lord Remington, who also happened to be calling on Penelope at the moment, inquires.

“The Duke has simply come to his senses and secured my sister’s hand before anyone else could,” Colin responds, and Penelope swears his eyes fall briefly on her. “I do apologise that you cannot be of attendance, my friend.”

“I will pretend that your words are sincere.” The other gentleman chuckles. “Well, if you are to monopolise Miss Penelope’s time tomorrow, my lady, shall we leave for a promenade this afternoon? The weather has not been quite this nice in a while, after all.”

“Oh! Mr Finch should arrive any moment, shall we all go together?” Philippa chimes in, jumping from her seat to wrap her arms around Penelope from behind.

Lord Remington smiles politely, though it is obvious he expected a private outing. “Uh, of course.”

“Splendid! Oh, we should have a picnic as well! Varley, could you have the cook prepare something?”

“I have not even answered yet…” Penelope mutters, meeting Lord Remington's amused eyes. The man has also grown used to her sister's air-headed and excitable ways.

“Shall we join as well, Mr Bridgerton? Some fresh air may be quite pleasing,” Marina says.

Colin seems taken by surprise. “Ah, I'm afraid I cannot, I must help with some preparations.”

“But you said it would be an intimate gathering,” the other gentleman points out.

“Pen, I expect a full commentary of the book tomorrow, yes?” Colin asks, thoroughly ignoring the pointed remark and Marina’s narrowing eyes.

“You… read it?” 

“Of course! You know how Eloise is not so fond of these books, and I need someone to talk about them with. So. Promise?”

Penelope chuckles. “Very well, I promise.”

Colin beams before swiftly taking his leave without meeting anyone’s eyes.

Penelope is not quite sure why, upon the door closing behind him, the rest of the room sends her an incredulous look.

“What? Colin and I are friends, this is not the first time he’s come simply to give me something.” Last time, the flowers were a surprise, but a book is not necessarily a courting gift. This is just Colin being thoughtful — Penelope recalls lamenting being unable to find this book at the beginning of the season although she only shared this information with Eloise.

“Ah! That is true,” Philippa concedes, prompting Marina to relax on the couch. 

Lord Remington looks at the book thoughtfully, and at the way Penelope cradles it ever so gently to her chest. He remains silent, however.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

They find a quaint little spot below a willow tree where they decide to settle for the picnic. Philippa sets the food and baskets with Mrs Varley's help, while Penelope helps Lord Remington out of his wheelchair.

“I can usually manage on my own,” he shares, leaning ever so slightly against her as they sit, “but this is good practice, is it not?”

Penelope’s heart skips a beat. “Do you mean—” 

“Well, perhaps I am getting ahead of myself.” He pauses, looking at Mr Finch for a moment. The other man seems entranced by a piece of cheese Phillippa is presenting him. “Miss Penelope, you must know that your father has advised me and Mr Finch from proposing.” Penelope only sighs. “You do not seem surprised.”

“I have had my suspicions, especially considering our quickly shortening staff. And the fact I have had to wear some gowns twice, to my mother’s dismay”

“A lady such as you should not have to worry about such things.”

“Why should I not if my father’s careless games define my future, my lord?” Penelope says. “On your part, you do not seem angered.”

Lord Remington gives a sheepish smile. “It is true my concern lies more with Mr Finch. To be honest, my lady, I had no intention of finding a wife this season.”

“I gathered.”

“Observant as ever, my lady.”

Penelope chuckles. Her heart feels lighter than she expected to — in fact, it is a bit of a relief to have the confirmation, rather than constantly overthink where she may have failed in her plan to entice a gentleman.

“But I do like you, Penelope.” She startles a little at the sudden familiarity in the lord’s voice. Her breath hitches as Lord Remington reaches for her hand, gently bringing it to his chest. “However, and I apologise for how vain this will sound, but I cannot allow myself to marry if the lady has no dowry. My parents can be… insufferable, in those matters, and I would rather not put you in this situation, especially given how costly my treatments can be. This chair and its maintenance, for one.”

Penelope smiles, fingers curling around his palm and squeezing once. “I understand. And your parents only worry about your well-being as well, I am sure.” Her lack of dowry is a reality she now needs to face. Her prospects have significantly lowered once more, with this factor that is outside of her hands, though, really, it is so late in the season now, she wonders if she simply has to accept that she must wait another year — that is if she is lucky enough to get a second season.

“You give them too much grace,” Lord Remington laughs. “I believe I can settle this matter with time, and as I have mentioned, your father owes me as well. Next season, perhaps, I can proudly present my ring to you, if you are willing to wait for me.”

Penelope does not answer for a while, although that is a dilemma she has just pondered in her head. Her eyes observe the man before her, a perfect suitor by all means. Kind, humorous, young, devoted… Well, does that not sound quite familiar? She looks at her sister and Mr Finch afterwards, noting the lovesick looks and Philippa’s wide smile. It frustrates her, that after all, she still wishes for such a carefree and loving romance. She knows Lord Remington has chosen his words carefully. He likes her. And perhaps it is unfair of her to expect any man to still wish for her hand without a hefty price behind it. Her pragmatic side knows it is not a possibility — Mr Finch is as smitten as they come and yet has not fought her father for Philippa’s hand.

And then, there is the poor romantic soul in her. Perhaps her mother is right, she reads too much, after all.

“It is not a matter of willingness, but rather one of ability, is it not?” she answers eventually.

“You evade my question.”

“Observant as ever, my lord.” She looks at their joined hands. “I cannot honestly promise I will wait,” she admits.

Understanding, rather than disappointment, shapes the curve of Lord Remington’s smile.

“Although, frankly, if I can be in Mayfair again for next season, you would not have much competition anyhow, even without me promising,” she jests.

“You underestimate yourself, Penelope,” the gentleman is quick to refute. “In fact… Someone else has warned me to be careful. That was not the word he used, but I would hate to subject your delicate ears to such language.”

Penelope sighs. “Mr Bridgerton is a protective friend, that is all.”

“I did not even need to say a name.” He laughs at her wide eyes. “Mr Bridgerton is neither your family, nor your suitor, and yet the way he spoke to me gave me the feeling he had a pistol ready to draw.”

“Surely you jest!”

Lord Remington shakes his head. “I wish it was merely an entertaining piece of gossip. Mr Bridgerton is quite blind, or perhaps stupid.” Penelope cannot help the small noise of protest that escapes her lips before she can stop it. “But he has clearly shown his interest these past few weeks, only not in Miss Thompson.” He takes a breath. “Your heart belongs to him, does it not? He is the one you are waiting for.”

“I do not want to!” Penelope refutes, implicitly confirming the man’s suspicion. “I— it was merely an infatuation, when he decided to court my cousin, I knew I had to move on. And please, do not assume I do not like you! If you proposed right at this moment, I’d…” She falters — she cannot even finish that sentence.

Her friend gives her a knowing look. “We can pretend I have. It would simply be a half-truth. If by next season, you are still a debutante, then we shall marry. Otherwise, there is no harm. Simply a promise between us without the pressure of the final decision. And perhaps the rumour of your engagement will spur him into action.”

“James, that is ludicrous.”

“Oh, now you use my name!” He laughs. “Allow me this opportunity to mess with him after the hassle he put me through.”

“You will be thoroughly disappointed, Colin would be supportive, rather than insanely jealous over you as you expect him to be.”

“I would wager a bet over this matter, but that is a dangerous path. As your father would know.”

Penelope rolls her eyes.

“You would lose anyhow,” she insists.

“We will see, my lady.”

She suspects he simply is pleased to be the source of some entertaining piece of gossip for once.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Penelope is not quite sure why she and her family were invited to this engagement party when, aside from Lady Danbury, the Duke does not seem to have invited a family of his own. If they desired an intimate gathering, inviting the eccentric Featheringtons was far from a good idea. And if she has to listen to her mother embarrassingly try to make Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury laugh with her jokes, Penelope might fake an illness to be able to escape.

“A blue dress today? Trying to become an official part of the family?” Benedict Bridgerton comes up to her with that signature charming smile of his.

“Are you volunteering to make that happen?” she jests back, self-consciously brushing her skirts, indeed noting the eerily similar colour to Eloise’s dress or Benedict’s and Colin’s waistcoats. Not a deliberate choice, truth be told.

Benedict laughs. “I hear that you soon won’t bear the Featherington name, I may be too late?”

Ah. So the rumour has already spread in a mere day, for Benedict, of all people to hear about it.

“Tonight is not about me,” is all she says. “Your brother seems miffed.”

“Which one?”

“The Viscount.”

“Ah. The Duke is a close friend of his, yet he does not trust him with our Daphne. I think he’s being purposely obtuse. These two are quite smitten, as we say.”

Penelope recalls Lord Remington’s remark about the pressing wedding date, and despite her best judgement, it makes her observe Daphne and the Duke with more scrutiny than she ought to. They seem happy and content indeed, but she cannot help but sense some guilt from the gentleman, and some tension in the curves of Daphne’s smiles. Penelope sees love, yet one not quite yet resolved, in a sense. But she supposes, married life ought to refine the shape of their bond.

“Colin has been looking for you, so I am surprised to be finding you alone, not even with Eloise,” Benedict says.

“Eloise retired to her room early to avoid your mother,” she responds, prompting the man to chuckle under his breath. “As for Colin, I have not seen him at all apart from a brief glimpse upon arrival.”

“I have not seen your cousin either.” A shiver runs down Penelope’s spine at the remark. Benedict looks troubled, brow subtly furrowed as he scans the room. “Our mothers and Anthony seem fortunately occupied, if you understand what I mean.”

She nods. However, before they part in search of the missing pair, she asks, “Do you not trust your brother?”

Benedict smiles, a bit guiltily. “It is not him I do not trust.” He shakes his head. “I will check upstairs in the bedrooms, could you check the studies and library?”

Penelope has no time to respond before he leaves. She sighs, rubbing her left arm before she swiftly exits the room as well.

Eloise has told her how uneasy her family felt about the courtship between Colin and Marina, yet she has never witnessed it first-hand. Knowing her friend, Penelope assumed Eloise was being her usual hyperbolic self, but if even Benedict seems to distrust the courtship, he who is usually so welcoming, then… She shakes her head, her steps leading her to Anthony’s study by the staircase.

And noticing the door being half-opened, a faint light coming from inside. Her lips press into a thin line — she has heard her mother talk about her youth, when she prepared her and her sisters for the season, of how to secure a gentleman, some ladies would intentionally lure men into an isolated room, but leave the door slightly ajar, in the hope of another guest, or even a servant, taking notice. It could be the other way around as well, although her mother was sure to point out that men are much less eager about a marital prospect. Penelope’s heart sinks — surely Marina would not…?

She tentatively approaches the door. As such she can vaguely discern Colin and Marina standing in the middle of the room. Well, Penelope can only see Colin’s back, completely hiding Marina behind his imposing figure, but she can catch a glimpse of Marina’s yellow dress peeking between his legs.

Suddenly, Colin takes a step back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice shaking with an emotion Penelope cannot quite place.

“I was hoping for a kiss,” Marina answers frankly.

Penelope stifles her scandalised gasp behind her hand while Colin takes several steps back then, shaking his head vigorously.

“You are a lady, and I am a gentleman. I cannot take liberties of the sort with you.”

“You agreed to an unchaperoned moment with a lady, you believe that to be gentlemanly?” Marina says.

“It did not feel like a choice in the first place when you dragged me here,” Colin responds in kind, sounding just as exasperated as Marina. “I have told you long ago, that I wish to end our courting.”

Penelope blinks. But he has kept visiting?

“But… you kept calling on me,” Marina says softly, voicing Penelope’s thoughts. “I thought you simply needed a little push.”

“I have not?” Colin sounds genuinely confused. “I was visiting Penelope.”

“Penelope!?”

The girl in question winces. She has heard enough as well. She knocks on the door, prompting a loud gasp from the pair inside.

“You are being rather loud, if you wished to have a private moment,” Penelope quips as she steps in. She sees relief fall on Colin’s face meanwhile Marina looks horrified, refusing to meet her cousin's gaze.

“Pen! It is not— I assure you nothing—” Colin tries to explain, surprised when Marina shoves past him and Penelope to get out of the room.

Penelope watches her go, worried, but the glare her cousin gave her just before closing the door behind her tells her she might be the last person Marina would wish to confide in at the moment. She sighs, focusing her gaze back on Colin who is leaning against Anthony’s desk with a hand rubbing his forehead.

“It is lucky I was the one who found you, and not your brother,” she says, earning a derisive laugh from her best friend.

“I know,” Colin sighs. “How much did you…?”

“I heard the mention of a kiss.” Colin stiffens. She shakes her, reaching out to rub his arm reassuringly. “I know nothing happened, Colin, you are a gentleman, a kind and considerate one.”

“Pen…”

“In fact, if you wish I can speak with Marina, surely something—” Her voice trails off as she notices that Colin is starting to lean in, breath caressing her forehead. “Colin?”

Instead of a response, his hand reaches for her chin, tilting it forward so their eyes may meet. Penelope’s breath hitches upon meeting the dark forest of her friend’s gaze.

“I heard…” Colin starts, voice barely above a whisper. “You are not wearing a ring.”

Penelope frowns, before showing him her ring-empty hand with a small derisive smile. “Indeed, I am not. I doubt I ever will.”

“Pen, do not say that.”

“You are sweet, Colin, but the reality is as such — Lord Remington has asked me to wait another year, but he may change his mind, or I may not be able to be here next season anyhow.”

It is Colin’s turn to frown.

“Why would you not be?”

“Colin, I have learned I have no dowry.” Her friend’s eyes widen. “My parents are very much trying to hide it, but no sane gentleman shall wish for the third daughter of a Baron with not even a dowry to evaluate her status.”

Colin’s hold on her is stronger suddenly, both hands framing her face and his gaze piercing through her soul.

“You are wrong,” he announces, fervently.

“... About?”

“So many things. Everything you have just said.” He leans closer, eyes never leaving hers. “You have been driving me insane, Pen.”

“I— I apologise?”

“All the flirting, the compliments, and sweet smiles… but then you turn around and entertain another, leaving me to gather dirt in your devastating garden.”

“Colin, you are not making any sense.”

“Remington is besotted, enchanted. How can you even think for one second he would not propose even without a dowry when he was oh-so bragging about it at the gentleman’s club last night?” He scoffs. “How can you not see the effect you leave in your wake?”

“Do not mock me!”

“May I kiss you?”

Penelope’s eyes widen, too stunned by such an abrupt question, yet before her thoughts can understand, her heart decides to be the bearer of decisions for the first time in a long while and she finds herself nodding.

Colin does not let her take another breath, capturing her lips with his.

And what a glorious moment it is.

Penelope sighs, melting under Colin’s touch who cradles her face as if she were a precious diamond. She tentatively moves her lips to the rhythm he has set, feeling her heart flutter for every brush, for every caress.

“Pen,” Colin whispers as he pulls away. “A kiss is for two people.”

“I–! I am trying my best.” She is not pouting.

He chuckles. “Do you trust me?”

She should not. This is highly improper, and the very scenario she has just prevented Marina from executing. Besides, they were having a very important conversation about her prospect, and she seriously needed to have a word with Lord Remington the next time she saw him. And yet— “Of course— oh!”

Strong arms suddenly wrap around her waist, effortlessly lifting her so she may sit on the desk, with Colin standing between her legs. Then he kisses her again. Penelope hums pleasantly, now able to wind her arms around his neck without straining, inviting him closer and closer. Colin is relentless now, barely allowing her a breath in between kisses, like a stranded man in a desert whose thirst can only be quenched by her lips.

Penelope feels him reach for her face, a thumb caressing her left cheek before it travels to her lower lip, pulling at it before she feels his tongue probing inside and claiming her mouth fully. She moans a sound she never knew she could even produce, and to grab into any sense of self, her hands find her friend’s hair, tugging at it just as Colin inhales deeply, his movements suddenly a bit shakier. Penelope can feel a warmth start to build up and a tingle in her legs — she is thankful to be sitting or she would have surely collapsed. But she needs— she needs—

“Colin! Are you in there?”

They pull apart abruptly, both of them recognising Benedict’s voice. Penelope is the first to react, promptly jumping off the desk to hide under it, just as the door opens.

“There you are!” Benedict says. “And you look a mess, have you taken out Anthony’s secret stash of alcohol in here?”

“Wh— no, I just needed a moment,” Colin manages to reply with a somewhat steady voice. “Bracing myself to announce the end of my courtship at our sister’s engagement party, like the insensitive brother I am, it seems.”

“Uh, alright…? Have you seen Penelope? I had asked her to search for you here or at the library, but I could not find her there.”

Penelope hopes her heaving breath is not as loud as it sounds in her ears.

“No. Perhaps one of our sisters kidnapped her. I heard Eloise retired to her chambers early.”

“Mm. Perhaps.” Benedict sounds entirely unconvinced. “Well, Mother is asking about you, we better get back to the party.”

“Right, yes of course.”

As the brothers leave, Penelope allows herself to simply lie on the floor for a moment as she lets the moment sink in. She brings a hand to her lips, still tingling from the kisses given by the love of her life.

And she is supposed to stand up, and simply exist as if the world as she knew it has not simply collapsed.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

A few days later, they are all invited to a garden party on a quaint sunny spring day, and Lord Remington is pouting. He looks incredibly young in his petulance.

“How come the end of a courtship is gaining more attention than the possibility of an engagement?” he complains, as he watches on the many debutantes surrounding Colin, trying to “comfort” him, and the many gentlemen back by Marina’s side, hoping for her favours.

It seems that nothing has truly changed, after all. Penelope supposes Marina shall get a proposal soon after all, even if from someone she did not choose at first.

Penelope chuckles, poking the lord’s arm. “I did tell you no one would truly care. The Bridgertons are the darlings of Mayfair, after all, and my cousin the diamond of the season.” Well, the second one.

“No, you told me Mr Bridgerton would not care,” James — she might as well start to refer to him as such, as they have agreed on a friendship until next season — corrects with a tut. “And he very much cares if he has ended his courtship with your cousin!”

“Colin ended it a while ago, it had nothing to do with us.”

“Now we both know that is false, as he kept visiting.”

Penelope’s lips form a thin line. Ever since the engagement party, she has been unable to talk to Colin. The news of the end of his and Marina’s courtship broke out the next day, and naturally, the third Bridgerton son did not try to call on her afterwards — would be quite the scandal, if he were to visit the cousin of the woman everyone thought he would be proposing to.

And at this garden party, Colin has not had a single moment to breathe in the middle of his many admirers. It makes Penelope wonder if what she has experienced is even real. It all feels like a distant memory, or a dream even.

“No matter,” James huffs, taking Penelope’s hand, “I suppose it is not so bad.”

She rubs the back of his hand. “I hope your ego is not too bruised, my lord.”

“Why would it be? I get your delightful presence all to myself.”

“James, I already agreed to marry you next season if everything is settled, you do not need to flatter me.”

“Penelope, I am being sincere, dear. And I still need to win your heart, don’t I? If Mr Bridgerton does not hurry…”

She drops his hand. “James.”

He holds his hands in surrender. “Very well, I will stop mentioning him. But I am being earnest, Penelope. I like you, and I know that I could learn to love you.”

Penelope’s heart flutters. How can you not see the effect you leave in your wake? She shakes that voice away.

“Thank you.”

James smiles. “May you help me? I wish to go see the flowers over there.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Carefully, and under the eye of James’ butler, Penelope pushes the gentleman’s wheelchair towards the edges of the garden, where fewer people are gathered, wishing to enjoy a cup of tea among the flowers, rather than the crowd. Jame directs her towards a corner with an empty table, on a ledge. As their respective maid and butler prepare them a glass of lemonade, Penelope quietly sits on a chair, a hand on James’ armrest.

“Would you care for a dance?” James asks suddenly.

“Wh—” Before she can ask, the gentleman takes her hand, prompting her to stand up before he directs her towards the short sets of stairs on their left. Penelope gasps, smiling wide as she understands his plan. She gleefully skips down the few steps, their hands never unlinking. “It is odd,” she says, as she looks up at James now. “I usually have to go up some stairs to meet anyone’s eyes.”

“I am delighted to be an exception,” he responds, leaning forward a little. Penelope holds back a giggle as his butler rushes to his side, worried he might somehow fall, while James waves him away with a roll of his eyes. “Shall we? I think I owe you more than one dance.”

Penelope nods. It is unconventional, she is aware. They are outside, in broad daylight, and she can see the few people around already turning a curious eye on them, but truthfully, she cannot care any less at the moment. The end of the season is near, her prospects are… insignificant as long as her father swims in debt, but she has a promised engagement in the future, and so, she can do whatever she pleases now, she can hardly be ruined, as the Ton believes her to soon be engaged to the man she is currently inappropriately dancing with, the only way she may be truly ruined were if she was caught unchaperoned with another gentleman, like in a closed study, with only the candles for witnesses—

Well, is that not a thought?

She shakes the memory away once more as she lets James twirl her and they improvise a routine with minimal steps, but allowing many spins for Penelope, wherein their hands never stray from each other. She laughs, feeling lighter than she has ever felt before.

After a few minutes, they bow to each other to end their impromptu dance, with Penelope now leaning against the handle of James’ wheelchair to catch her breath. Dancing under the sun sure is a different experience than under the moonlight, she realises, it is much more exhausting, for one. A glass of fresh lemonade is presented to her and she grabs it without looking up.

“Oh, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. That was quite the dance.”

She almost spits out her drink at the voice.

“Bridgerton!” James greets him with a friendly smile. “Wasn’t it? Penelope is an excellent dancer, despite having me as a partner.”

“James!” Penelope exclaims. “Do not speak of yourself as such, this was one of the best dances I ever had.”

“Oh,” Colin says, looking rather pained. “Shall I take offence, Pen?”

“Do not start too,” she huffs. “You kept stepping on my feet during our first lessons.”

“Now, those did not count, we were children!”

“So you are very old friends, are you not?” James remarks with a hum.

“Indeed,” Colin says, then he grabs Penelope’s free hand, kissing its back. She squeaks. “And hopefully we will continue to be for many years, yes?”

“Certainly, I will let you visit when we marry,” the lord says, but Penelope can tell he is entirely teasing.

“I do not see a ring attesting to such a promise…” Colin, on the other hand, cannot. “Nor was Lady Featherington boasting about it.”

“I have not asked the patriarch's permission yet indeed, although I have the lady’s agreement, which is the most important part, is it not?”

“And yet you wish to wait for next season. For monetary reasons, I hear.”

James is briefly taken aback. “How— Ah, you told him, didn’t you?”

“I do not like secrets,” Penelope mumbles. “It is not like I will be getting another proposal before the season ends anyhow. Papa would deny it.”

“We will see about that,” Colin huffs.

“Colin?”

He grins, throwing a challenging look at the other gentleman before he winks at Penelope. He explains nothing and simply leaves after giving Penelope’s hand another kiss.

“That was odd,” she comments after a while, trying to undermine the way her heart is now beating wildly, hope fuelling its frenetic dance.

Colin wishes to marry her.

“Entertaining, you mean,” James snickers. “Do you reckon he will allow me to visit?”

Penelope rolls her eyes.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Daphne will be hosting the last ball of the season, Penelope learns when she receives a personalised and handwritten invitation from the former Bridgerton, now the Duchess of Hastings.

Colin delivers it to her personally, in fact.

“It is odd to see your house this empty,” he comments.

She hums, sweeping her gaze across the empty drawing room — Rae is by the door as a chaperone, but she and Colin are otherwise alone. Her mama and sisters are out promenading, while Penelope feigned a headache to stay at home. As for Marina…

A mere week has passed since the garden party, and yet so much has happened at once. The next morning, a certain Sir Phillip Crane showed up at their doors, and before Penelope could understand, Marina jumped in his carriage, leaving Mayfair behind without a second look. Then, James had to retire early to his country estate, a thing he has always done so he may avoid the high temperatures during the long journey there, but he has been sending letters regularly to compensate, and invited her and her family to one afternoon at his estate, whenever they so choose over the off-season.

And then, there is Colin, who has been sending gifts every single day, to her Papa’s growing dismay but her Mama’s astonished delight, who, with Marina now gone, Prudence with no suitor, and Philippa’s Mr Finch having been scared off by the head of the household, has been focusing all her attention on her youngest one. Penelope is both horrified and proud, somehow, an odd mixture she cannot fully grasp.

Her Mama knows James plans on proposing next season, and though pleased, she also seems rather apprehensive of Colin. Overall, she seems frustrated at the lack of imminent proposal from either man.

“These Bridgerton boys, so unreliable,” her Mama said one morning while breaking their fast. “That third one, stringing Marina along and never proposing, I simply do not wish for you to foolishly hope. Lord Remington is a secure match, although as young as Mister Bridgerton, he seems much more serious about marriage!”

Her Mama truly has no idea how similar James and Colin truly are, the only difference between them being a title.

Penelope wonders if Colin has some godly instincts, allowing him to avoid her Mama as he somehow chose the very day she is out of the house to call on Penelope.

“You have mastered the ways of avoiding my family,” she replies at last.

“Not really, Anthony forbade me to leave the house until now. Something about preventing me from tempting scandal,” Colin huffs. “As if he did not try to run away with an opera singer two nights ago.”

“What!”

“Benedict was panicking. Mother thankfully does not know… yet. And I am hoping to bring some news that might distract her. Anthony will owe me.”

Penelope laughs. “It seems you had your own eventful week. But why did he think you would try to tempt scandal?”

Colin clears his throat. “I may have hinted, jokingly, of course, er, perhaps not, that I wished to elope. With you.”

The atmosphere shifts.

“Colin…”

“Penelope.” He takes her hands in his, leaning in. “I must apologise for my blindness. And for taking such… liberties with you.”

“I was very much consenting, to be fair. We can bribe my maid to look away if you wish,” she teases.

“Pen!”

She laughs. “Sorry… sorry. Go on?” she prompts.

“Do not marry him.”

A pause. Penelope pulls back with an unimpressed look. “Try again.”

“Wh—”

“Colin, try again.”

“I was not done actually.”

“You stopped talking!”

“I— got distracted.” Only then does Penelope notice he has been looking at her lips the whole time. He shakes his head and goes down on one knee, hands never letting go of hers. “Penelope Featherington. Penelope. My Pen.”

A smile tugs at her lips. “That is my name, indeed.”

“And are you…?”

“Am I what?”

“Mine.”

“You still have not asked the question.”

He huffs out a smile. “My Pen, my dearest friend, and perhaps something more if you allow us to be. It seems there has been a misunderstanding, for I thought I had made my intentions clear. Every time I came here after the Vauxhall ball, it was you I was hoping to see. It was you I was wishing to court, and I— I believed you knew. And you preferred Remington anyhow, so I sat by Miss Thompson, waiting for an opportunity to speak. One Remington didn’t leave me.”

“Briarly kept announcing you for Marina…”

“And he is lucky I am a gentleman or I do not know what I would do considering his mistake made all of this more complicated than it needed to be!” For emphasis, he glares at the closed door, behind which the footman should be standing. “You could have been mine… weeks ago.”

“Would I be?” she inquires. She tugs at his suddenly tense hands, bringing his gaze back to her. “Colin. My friend, my life, my love, please ask me properly?”

Colin’s eyes shine, hope and adoration swimming in the dark pools of them. Penelope could drown in them, indeed.

“Penelope Featherington, I do not remember a world where you weren’t by my side. From childhood to now, I had a pocket of sunshine by my side. And perhaps I took you for granted, I thought you would always be there, even if our paths may stray. But as I saw you with another, and I felt dissatisfied with the path I had willingly walked on at the beginning of the season, I realised how foolish I had been. It is incredible, how a mere compliment and smile from you pierced through the infatuation I had found myself in. Oh, it is you, of course, it is you. And I can only hope you feel even a slither of what I feel for you, for I know you may simply see me as a friend you felt comfortable enough to… practice, as Daphne put it.”

Penelope blinks. Of course, Daphne told him. She wonders… if the now Duchess had predicted this outcome.

“I love you,” Colin continues, an easy smile on his lips, and all the relief and adoration in the world in the depths of his eyes. “I wish to see the world with you, so we may spend our past, present, and future together. Penelope Featherington, if a husband is what you seek, then let me be yours. Will you marry me? I also already asked your father until he could not take no for an answer, but that is less romantic.”

She laughs, loudly and carefree. “Colin Bridgerton,” she breathes out, a hand reaching for his face. “I have loved you from the moment we met. Yes, I will marry you.”

“From the moment—”

Penelope flushes. “We can discuss that later. Would you kiss me?”

And Colin will, rather gladly.

As luck would have it, the door opens a few moments later before Rae can warn them, and a scandalised Lady Featherington screams at Colin to get away from her daughter.

(Surprisingly enough, no special licence is issued.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Daphne fans herself with a proud smile as she overlooks the ball from the top of the staircase. She can see Penelope Featherington, soon to be Bridgerton, discussing vividly with Mr Finch on one side of the room, until Colin strides confidently to her side, finally signs her dancing card, and then swiftly brings her to the dancefloor.

“Your plan, I presume?” Simon whispers into her ear, his eyes equally following the newly engaged pair.

“Indeed,” Daphne confirms firmly. “The moment I heard Penelope wished to find a husband, I knew Colin would need a little push.”

“Seems common in the family.”

“Excuse you! I was willing for a courtship from the beginning, you were the one being difficult with this fake courting nonsense!”

Simon shrugs. “It worked, did it not?”

“You were the one tricked by your own plan,” she huffs. “Anyhow, see? I told you we needed to invite the Featheringtons to our engagement party, for Penelope’s family is an acquired taste, and would soon become a part of ours.”

“Joy,” he deadpans, before he kisses her temple and takes her hand. “Shall we go dance as well, dear wife?”

Daphne closes her fan with one sharp move. “Gladly, dear husband.”

Being the hosts, they easily find a spot right next to Colin and Penelope, so when the dance requires a brief partner change, Daphne finds herself dancing with Colin. She grins at him, nodding towards Penelope who is now dancing with Simon and engaging in a friendly conversation.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” she tells her older brother who rolls his eyes.

“Let’s say we’re even now, yes?”

Daphne hums. Indeed, she may not be married now if it weren’t for Colin telling her about the duel, and later encouraging her to speak with Simon regarding their marital expectations.

“Fair enough. Congratulations, Col.”

“Thank you, Daff.”

She pats him on the arm before they find their respective partner, and dance the night away as a celebration of their future.

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 4, Wave 1, Poll 8

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and round here.

Luz Noceda-The Owl House

Qualifications:

Canonically bisexual and shown in the show, never stated in the show but is also ADHD

She is bisexual and has ADHD.

Bisexual (canon) and neurodivergent (heavily coded)

bisexual adhd queen

Very cool character that shows children that it's okay to be disabled and in the LGBTQ community

Propaganda:

Has been through many of the troubles that I as an ADHD person have also been through, mainly regarding school. (Shown mainly in season 3)

She’s got a girlfriend, which is groundbreaking representation for a Disney cartoon (especially considering how she’s the main character). She’s also really determined and kind, having amassed a massive found family by the end of the show. Her ADHD causes her a number of problems throughout her journey, but it also makes her who she is.

I adore her and she had done nothing wrong in her life ever

SHES THE BEST EVER

People want to screw her for some reason so uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah

Anything Else?:

Canon girlfriend she has a canon girlfriend. And has crushed on both she/hers and he/hims (Submitter 1)

Enchanted Grom Fight was absolute bangers (Submitter 5)

Frodo Baggins-The Lord of the Rings

Qualifications:

Frodo & Sam are very homoerotic. As JRRT knew and loved several openly gay authors, one of his closest friends was suspected of being gay, and with other historical events of the time, you can’t convince me it wasn’t at least a little bit subconsciously on purpose. Frodo, of course, has ptsd and probably some form of chronic illness due to the lingering effects of his nazgul wound.

Propaganda:

Frodo carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and was forever changed by it. The literal devil’s soul was constantly around his neck, always tempting him, growing stronger by the minute, twisting him and torturing him mentally. He didn’t know how his journey would end when he offered to take on the burden of destroying the most evil object in the world, but he chose to do it anyway. And he was forever ruined by it - so much that he never truly came home, not really. And once he was home, life was so thoroughly ruined for him that he could not stay. There is one other known account of this happening - Arwen’s mother, who was captured and tortured for years by orcs, and while her body was healed, her mind could not be, and she, too, sailed away. Do you understand that? Frodo’s journey was on the same level as *being captured and tortured for years on end.* He is probably the gayest non-canon confirmed character I have ever come across, queer-coded through and through, and his ptsd was enough that he could not come home, and had to sail to paradise to find peace. He deserves everything.

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 8}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: You're slowly getting back to a semblance of yourself after being given a life altering choice.

Word Count: 4.2k (it's a short one, apologies)

Warnings: WE GOT SHIRTLESS DIN Y'ALL, canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, trauma, ptsd, nightmares, illness, reader throws up, allusions to past SA (not detailed), gun violence

A/N: this was a rather hard chapter for me to crank out, i wasn't sure how much of reader's personality would immediately show after the events of the last chapter, but i think i managed to do a decent job that doesn't make it feel like it's a different character altogether. she will come out of her shell more throughout the next couple of chapters as she gets used to traveling with our dear mandalorian as an equal

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

The clearing was silent as the sun made its rise into the sky, displaying an enticing view of warm pinks and deep oranges that bled into the soft blue of the still waning night sky. Your gaze was locked with the visor across from you, so far and yet still closer than anyone had dared to approach you, with an offer no one had dared to extend to you before. But it didn’t feel real, it felt like a ploy despite the fluttering in your stomach at learning the name of the man who you had spent so much time with.

“How do I know this isn’t a trick, Din Djarin?” You spoke with more control than you truly had, voice strong despite the waning tears that now stained your face and left your eyes tinged with a telltale pinkness of their occurrence. Mind working to calculate the situation playing out, an edge of clarity to your eyes now that the high emotions had all but rushed out of your lips in outraged pleas. A new facet of who you were, of how you survived for so long, taking it in and mentally checking it, much like you were doing with the man across from you.

“My name… I have not spoken it aloud since I was a boy. I have not shared it with anyone,” Din took a step toward you, your body instinctively took a step back despite the fluttering in your middle at the confession. It was a warm feeling akin to the heat thoughts of him blazed underneath your skin in the darkness of night, but far more innocent. At the part of him he was willing to give to you, even after you threatened to kill him. “I…. want to share it with you, to prove to you that I will not harm you and give you something in return that could harm me if it were to leave the two of us.”

This was all so new, different sides of the alluring mystery you both posed to each other.

“You saved my life twice, when you had no reason to.” His words were strong, though there was a caressing of emotion in them you had only been allowed to glimpse before. “You deserve the same, you deserve to be saved, given a choice.”

It was hard to believe him, believe the words, the offering he was extending to you. You were sure he could pinpoint the conflicting emotions as they passed over your face. Positive in your very soul that he could tell you had never been handed a choice before and were confused over, especially coming from someone initially hired to capture you.

“It was the right thing to do.”

“As is this.”

“You- you want me to travel with you?”

“Yes, I would be honored to have you aboard the ship.” His tone was solid, with no hint of hesitancy or fraud in his words as they sounded in the air. “You are a strong fighter, a survivor.”

“Free?”

“You are free, I will do my best to ensure it until you wish to part ways.”

“What…what if I do something you don’t like or speak out of place?” The words you wanted to say died in your throat to allow for those ones to come to life. The confession of wanting to remain with him until he no longer wanted you around nearly slipping from your lips as the conversation continued. Because that’s what it was, a conversation. You weren’t being talked at or down to, he was talking to you, with you. He had begun to do so the second you had boarded his ship, even knowing the dynamic that he had initiated by taking you from that compound.

“I will not raise a hand to you, I’ve promised you that already.”

“I’m annoying, I say things under my breath, I-I-I…I’m selfish.”

“Then we can be so together.” A deep chuckle decorated the air of the clearing, making your heart stutter for a reason other than fear and anxiety for the several times since he entered your life. The sound was beautiful, and your selfish tendencies were already returning to you. You wanted more of it, of that sound, of being able to draw that sound out of him.

“Y-yes.”

He closed the distance of the clearing and came up toward you with his hands at his sides as he approached, the rising sun catching his amor in a mesmerizing way. He walked past your still form toward the wall of trees surrounding the space, retrieving the heavy pack he knew you had hidden in the brush. He hauled it onto his shoulder, his cloak billowing more with the weight resting along the upper part of it along his back. “Let’s get everything back on board before some food. Then we can rest after traveling all night.”

You felt a shy smile come over your lips, liking the sound of ‘we’ after being alone for so long. You reached for one of the trunks and hauled it up, following his lead back toward the ship. His steps faltered as he looked over his shoulder and saw the expression. You quietly asked him if he was alright, getting a nod from the man in response.

The hammock from your new pack was secured to the walls of the ship, off in the corner opposite of Din’s small personal quarters, near the wall that made up the back entrance to the ship. Your bag was atop it, heavier now with the other items you had purchased while in town with the villagers just yesterday. A time that felt so long ago, when you were worried about having to bide your time and make a run for it, run away from the man you could feel crossing the space of the hold toward you.

You jumped clean off the floor of the hold when a crate was set down with a loud thunk and you spun on your heels to face the sound. He was rather close as was the sound and your hand was tight around the handle of your saber, instinctually reaching for it. It should alarm you how used you were to his presence that it didn’t register how little distance was between the both of you, but you pushed that thought down to inspect at a later time.

You turned in time to see him using his right leg to scoot in neatly underneath the space below the hammock. There was enough room beneath it and the top of the storage to accommodate the weight of your body while resting.

“For you, for your…things.”

You nodded at him, aware of the weight of his visor taking in the small space you had claimed for yourself. Worry flared for a moment, worry that you had chosen a bad spot or infringed on his space in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It all tapered out of you in a shaky exhale, hands letting go of your weapon as you realized you had clenched your hand tight around it, your knuckles creaking with the effort and your fleeting, overwhelming emotion. Turning back around, you began to unload the pack into the open space of the crate with a small ‘thank you’.

“There…is a small cabin behind the flight room.” He reached out and his gloved hand gently turned you around, so you were facing him fully. You let him do so, your heart hammering in your chest at the casual contact, at his words. “We can make it your own space, more privacy than here in the hold.”

“I don’t want to intrude-“

“You wouldn’t, yours if you want it.”

Your body betrayed you at his words, at the phrasing. You felt your skin tingle as a whoosh of desire flared hot in your middle and your mind decided to recall the feel of his bare hands. You ducked your head, unable to keep a somewhat shared look with him as you pulled slowly from his light grip on your arm.  His hand lingered, brushing down the side of your arm to blossom comfort with his touch, as if he was aware of the waring emotions you were experiencing.

“I’ll…think about it.”

He leaned in close, helmet coming to rest on your forehead in another comforting action. Fingers reached out to wrap around his elbows before you realized you were even moving, reaching.

“I asked you to stay, mesh’la. Please don’t feel like you’re unwanted here.”

Lifting your eyes to gaze into the visor, you felt a shudder of something faint make its way down your spine. You were sure the man could feel the way your body reacted to it, this close to you. You could only nod in response to his words, your own too jumbled in your chest to voice.

With a slow nod in return, he was back over on the other side of the space, taking a seat at the makeshift table. The Child was atop it, exploring the food packages around him with excited gurgles. You felt a soft smile pull at your lips as you watched him, so excited with such a simple thing.

“The village packed us a lot of food, you’re welcome to any of it.”

“Oh, um, I…ate in town.” You shuffled on your feet, turning back to the small corner and began to unpack the items you had purchased in the village. “I wasn’t sure when I would get to eat next.”

It was quiet for a few heartbeats, the man focused on opening some of the wrapped bundles.

“You were going to run, even if that transmission hadn’t come through.” He wasn’t asking for confirmation, he was stating it as if he had been privy to the way your mind had been running, like it was second nature for him to know about the things that had occurred in your mind and influenced your actions. Maybe it was, to an extent. Having traveled with him for some time now.

“Yes.”

“I was going to leave a note.” You admitted, eyes falling closed as you gathered yourself. You didn’t reach for anything as you sat atop the other makeshift seat of a crate. Hands in your lap as you spoke, eyes still trained on the Child and his many noises.

Your lips quirked up when his small form turned to you with an outstretched hand. He was clutching a kebob in his little claw, cooked krill pieces skewered onto it. When you reached a hand out to take it, he fussed, shaking his head with a grumble. A soft laugh bubbled up as you opened your mouth and leaned closer to him. That seemed to be what he wanted, and he giggled freely as he watched you tear the topmost piece away with your teeth and began to chew it. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth, you exaggerated a nod at him to let him know you liked the taste.

He turned his attention to Din and held his hand out once again.

A shake of the helmet made him frown, a little angry grunt sounding from his chest. He mimicked Din, shaking his head and then brandishing the kebob at him in a wave. He bumped it against the front of the helmet, right where Din’s mouth would be. And again, and again. It was making the only noise in the ship other than the odd beeping sound or so that signaled things were up and running.

With a deep sigh, one of Din’s hands came up and pressed something just underneath the front of the helmet, where it settled over his chin. The hiss of the helmet decompressing startled you and your heart thudded in your chest as froze in place across the makeshift table. Surely he wouldn’t just expose himself so casually…? The Creed of the Mandalorians forbade the removal of the helmet, and while that wasn’t the case for all of them, it was a rather important factor in the practice that Din took part in, that he was raised in. The hint of a strong jaw covered in dark scruff was visible as he quickly leaned forward and took a bite from the offered stick.

Just as quickly as the helmet had been lifted ever so slightly, it was set back in place.

The Child’s happy giggles echoed off the walls. He turned back to you with a large, toothy smile. Willing your heart to calm down, you returned the smile with a soft one of your own.

A shout ripped from your throat, and you were thrashing around as your mind was ripped from its stream of unconsciousness. Heart thudding painfully in your chest, panting with the effort to catch your breath, you sat up from the hammock, swinging your legs over the side of it. It was swinging with your harsh movements, the supports of it groaning with the actions. The door to the personal quarters across the hold slid open and Din’s form filled the doorway, a blaster in his hand.

You were shaking, body humming with adrenaline as your mind had decided to replay a rather harsh memory from your captivity. The roaring in your ears prevented you from hearing Din cross the space, moving toward you in nothing but his helmet and a pair of sleep pants. His gentle hands on your knees startled you and you kicked out at him, sending him stumbling back onto his backside and palms to catch himself.

“It’s me, mesh’la.”

You shook your head, bringing your hands up to cover your ears. Your throat constricted and the words you were trying to say warbled out incoherently.

“What do you need?” Din’s voice was dulled, as if you were hearing things through a tunnel. Your vision was blurry as you opened your eyes, blinking away the remnants of the nightmare. It was then that you realized you were crying, tears spilling over your lash line to race down your cheeks. They dripped off the end of your chin, splattering to the floor.

“W-water.” You managed to choke out, your skin feeling so caked in filth and the phantom touches from the men who had held you captive. Poor choice of words, you mused as Din moved to gather a pouch of water from atop the makeshift table. You were shaking your head as he turned back around with it in his hands. He could see the way your muscles twitched even from the short distance, your body reacting strongly to whatever your mind had decided to conjure up during your sleep.

“I need to clean. I feel- I feel their hands all over me.” You were pushing up from the hammock, holding a hand to your mouth as nausea roiled hot in your middle. Rushing across the hold toward to fresher, the door hissed shut just as Din caught sight of you crumpling to the floor in front of the toilet basin and heaving the contents of your stomach.

The sound of the shower running had Din standing in front of the door to the fresher with a change of clothes for you in his hands. He had gathered one of his shirts, recalling the way you had held the first one up to inhale his scent back on Sorgan. A small comfort he could offer you when words failed him, as they so often did, but especially in the wake of what just happened. The knock that sounded from his bare knuckles had you jumping underneath the spray of hot water raining down on your body.

Pausing in your frantic scrubbing, your head shot up and focused on the door through the frosted glass of the shower stall.

“Got you a change of clothes.” Din’s voice sounded muffled through the metal of his helmet and the shut door to the small room. “I can set the helmet to another setting and place them on the sink for you.”

“Th-thank you.” Hopefully he understood with your minimal response that what he was saying was alright with you. He seemed to understand, because the door hushed open, and his broad form filled the space of the room. You watched through the glass paneling as he placed a bundle of dark clothing down atop the sink. His helmet never turned toward you despite knowing he could feel the weight of your own gaze upon him. He left as swiftly as he had appeared, allowing you to finish your shower in privacy.

When you emerged from the fresher with damp hair and a new outfit that consisted of a baggy shirt and pants, the hold was empty. There was a single light left on the wall that held the ramp settled into while it wasn’t activated, illuminating the space in soft light. Your eyes landed on a steaming cup of something left on the table, watching the wafts of heat climb into the air. Smiling to yourself, you moved to take a seat and reached to cradle the hot ceramic in your hands.

You were nestled back in the hammock after finishing the warm broth, the liquid helping to sooth your settling stomach. Despite the comfort of an added blanket and the relaxing residual warmth from your shower, you couldn’t help but wring your hands where they rested atop your middle. Din had checked on the ship’s course before returning to his own space. The hush of his door nearly shutting closed the space off and left a weighted silence in its wake.

Settling down further into the blankets, a muffled sob made its way through your body, and you quickly clamped a hand down over your mouth to stifle it. Eyes darting to the small sliver of space that Din had left his door open to see if it traveled across the space toward him. Nothing akin to fear or worry or the instinct to run washed over you as a bulb lit up and his hand bare hand suddenly appeared and was shoving the door open with swift motions. He was across the space in a few long strides, the fabric of his sleep pants swishing around his legs with the speedy, tempered movement.

As soon as he was close enough, he was leaning over to place his hands underneath the curve of your knees and along your upper back, your hands going up around his neck as if they were made just for that. The blanket fell away from you as he lifted you into his arms, turning away from the set up you had made for yourself.

He carried you across the space back toward the door and it shut behind him as he settled you both into the small bed atop the cot that took up a majority of the space. His body was a warm line beside you, your arms loosening from around his neck to fill the space between your bodies atop the mattress. His hands busy pulling the discarded blanket up around you both, letting it settle around your hips.

Eyes trained on him across from you, breath labored as you took in the bare expanse of his chest. Nearly all of his bronze skin was on display in the dull light that probably needed replacing. Fingers twitching in an effort to not cross the space and run them over the temptation that was so close. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes closing to shield yourself from the want. As he spoke lowly to you, the rumbling timber of his voice caressed over you in a muffled sound.

When you opened your eyes back up from a long blink, the confusion in them let him know you had no clue as to what he had just said. His chest expanded as he took a deep breath and deflated as he let it out in a sigh.

“San,” The sound of your name had you focusing on the visor of the helmet looking down at you as he sat partially up on his elbow. His other arm reached out for you, hand encompassing your cheek as he repeated his soft-spoken words. You leaned into his touch, something you couldn’t find it in yourself to be ashamed of or embarrassed about at the moment. It just was, it was right, there was no thinking about it. “Do you want me to turn the light out?”

You reached out tentatively, fingers still twitching with the effort it was taking to restrain yourself from lunging at the man and wrapped your arms around the broad expanse of his bare chest. Fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him. Nodding in an answer to his careful question as you buried your head into the crook of his neck. His body moved around and underneath you to turn the light out, shrouding you both in darkness.

The helmet hushed against the fabric of his pillow as he laid down completely beside you. His strong arms came around you and pulled you flush against him, his legs tangling with your own beneath the blanket. Eyes already fluttering shut, you let out long exhale that faltered near the end. You were feeling completely at ease in the wake of that horrible nightmare, safe in this enclosed space, wrapped up in his arms, surrounded by the scent you associated with him.

The feeling of his even, steady pulse humming through his skin where your face was pressed into his neck lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

“I’ve got you.”  

The next morning, or what you assumed was the morning, due to time being hard to keep track during long space travel. It was something you weren’t sure you would ever get a handle on, not having much experience with longer space travel with the focus of seeking out hideaways. The ship had just dropped out of hyperspace, Din having set a random location in order to rest for the night with less threats. He was currently in the cockpit and you quelled the minor nerves at seeking him out after the breakfast you had made an effort to down alongside the Child.

You were cradling him on a hip as you climbed the ladder leading to the partial upper floor, his happy babbling announcing your arrival to the armored man before you physically entered the room. Setting him down in the chair to the right of the door, you turned your attention to the front of the room.

“I chose Tatooine, a few years ago.” Your voice was quiet, nearly a whisper as you walked up behind the pilot’s chair. Eyes trained on the hologram display of nearby planets. “My hideout should still be intact if the sands haven’t swallowed it. I had just installed new moisture farming equipment before…”

Tatooine looked much the same way as it did all those years ago when you picked it out of all the options you had assembled for a good hideout. Washed out and pale as you gazed at the display of the planet before you.

“That’s where….I thought we were when you took me from that compound.”

“Its an easy mistake to make, both are mostly open desert.” He was watching you as you flipped through the rest of the planets displayed as possible locations for the ship to land next, though he had already programmed it for Tatooine. The ships settings displaying as much when you checked the flight path. You could feel the weight of his visor on you as you boldly did so, not having asked to enter the control room let alone mess with the things he was organizing. You turned to face him with a deadpan look, punctuated by a single raised brow and mouth tight in a firm line.

“A fool’s mistake.”

“You’re not a fool, those kriffng bandits were.”

“Landscape here is more limestone, red rock more prominent on Arvala-7.” You gestured to the display with a wave of your hand.

Any other conversation to be had was put on hold the second a warning alarm trilled from the control panel. It was only a second’s notice before blaster shots landed on the starboard side of the ship. Your legs tensed as you tried to keep your balance through the turbulence, hands going out to grip onto anything within reach. It happened to be the armrest of the pilot’s chair. Your head swiveled around to see the Child’s frantic look, eyes wide and sounds of upset falling from him in a steady stream.

“Dank ferrick, we got someone on our tail. Sit down and buckle up, mesh’la.”

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @moonknight-s-cumdump @js-favnanadoongi

[rabbithaver]

i finally decided to actually write out some of my major headcanons for Silver. i like him a lot as a character and i think people overlook him too much lmao

I genuinely believe that Silver has been decoupled from the timeline completely. This means that changes to the future made in the present do not affect him. He may not remember the specific events of 06, but he absolutely remembers growing up in an apocalypse and frequently has lines that support this in the comics. Him being unaffected by changes to the timeline explains why his personal history has not changed, despite the future being saved multiple times. ALSO, Ian Flynn has confirmed that Silver is not in control of when or how he travels through time -- I believe that whatever or whoever is sending him back and forth is the same thing that separated him from the timeline.

Silver is deaf, pushing about 70% hearing loss. It's not congenital -- his hearing sucks because he's from a timeline where things blew up constantly and he had no hearing protection. He relies mostly on lip-reading and guesswork, but wants to learn ASL when he gets a chance... if he gets the chance. Time is wibbly-wobbly for him. (I should note that this one is personal to me -- I myself am HoH due to otosclerosis and I'm definitely projecting my declining hearing on him lmao)

I know Silver is canonically the exact same height and weight as Shadow and Silver, but I personally don't find that very... likely. All three of these dudes are 3'3" and 77lbs EXACTLY? Nah. Shadow and Sonic, maybe, but not Silver. I headcanon Silver as being smaller and lighter than the other hedgehogs because he grew up in a timeline where food was hard to find, and thus didn't grow as much. He's very scrawny and basically has almost no meat on his bones, but you'd never guess because he's got The Fluff.

Elaborating on the food thing: his relationship with eating is probably totally screwed. Think about it: he spent his whole youth eating whatever he could get his hands on, and he probably had to eat as quickly as he could so he could stay on the move. The idea of eating to enjoy the flavor is like, completely alien to him. He also tends to stash food away for later, as he's not used to knowing when his next meal will be. He does it entirely out of habit, even when food is abundant.

Silver's immune system probably sucks. Every time he goes back to the past, he catches some illness. This is largely because he's not used to the pathogens 200 years earlier, but I also like to imagine this is because he's got some sort of autoimmune disorder.

You cannot tell me this boy does not have asthma. I am aware that this is kind of a fandom in-joke, but it makes total sense. If he grew up in a world of smoke and flames, his lungs probably look like burnt toast. Someone get him an inhaler please.

Silver has PTSD and severe anxiety, both due to his personal history growing up in a hellscape and also because repeatedly going back to the future to find his time in disarray due to events in the present is probably traumatic as all hell. His biggest trigger is most likely building collapse, but I can't imagine he doesn't have kind of a hard time with explosions after the Eggman War. His cheerful optimism and helpful attitude is his effort to deflect from his trauma.

Expanding on the anxiety thing; Silver struggles when he doesn't have something to do. We actually see this in canon in the 2022 Annual story "Future Growth." He has no idea how to function when he doesn't have a mission to focus on. Being in the past with no clear directive is insanely triggering for him and he totally fails to cope.

While I'm talking about his mental illnesses, I want to make it explicitly clear: he is REALLY good at hiding this stuff. His friends in the Resistance/Restoration don't find out about his issues for years, and this is specifically because he instinctually hides anything that could be perceived as a weakness. He's been conditioned to hide any and all weaknesses because it was the only way to survive in the post-apocalypse. Being visibly affected by your trauma is a quick and easy way to get dead, so he simply... doesn't. This kid cannot stop masking his trauma at all until he's literally at his breaking point.

There is no way he doesn't have intense Survivors' Guilt. Going back to the Metal Virus arc in the comics, he's the only survivor of a shuttle crash in Issue #25. All of those people died. They actually died - if they were zombots, they would've survived that crash, but because they were still healthy, they didn't have the ability to recover. Silver probably feels that because he was trying so hard to get survivors to the shuttle, he led those people to their deaths. I specifically am pointing to his dialogue here as evidence of this:

He probably dreads going back to the future. Like, think about it. He's admitted to being lonely (IDW #8) in his own time -- probably because his history separates him from the average person! The only friends he really has are in the past, the vast majority of whom are likely long dead by the time he's born. And while his friends are always happy to see him, I can imagine he has a lot of anxiety thinking about the fact that they inevitably start to associate his arrival with something bad coming down the line. That's rough, buddy.

He's very proud of his ruff and he takes really good care of it. It's super thick and very soft. However, when he's having a rough time, he's not as thorough, and it tends to show. If you know him really well, you can get an idea of his current mental health just by looking at the state of his chest fur. A happy Silver is fluffy, a struggling Silver looks like he was left in the washing machine.

Silver has a really hard time with media that involves apocalyptic worlds. He knows that it's just fiction, but it reminds him of the fact that he's the only one who remembers the apocalyptic hellscape he grew up in. It reminds him that as much as his friends want to support him, they can't truly understand what he's been through; his background is only real to him. It just leaves him feeling lonely and sad, so he avoids it as much as possible.

Silver doesn't sleep well in real beds. Maybe it's just a lifetime of growing up surrounded by an apocalypse, but he has a really hard time getting comfortable in a real bed. For months during the Eggman War, he'd spend hours tossing and turning before finally giving up and curling up on the floor in a corner. It's just not what he's used to at all.

anyway i think about him a normal amount :)

[ranchclan]

Howdy!

Welcome to Ranchclan, a slice-of-life art blog following my primary Clangen save. You can call me Luckyfoot or just Lucky, and I use they/them pronouns 🍀

Ranchclan takes place in North Central WA and part of the comic involves sharing a little bit about the ecology of the location! I take a lot of inspiration from @/bonefall, @/rippleclan, @/fallenclan, @/clangenrising, @/direclan and more - you’ll definitely see complex tool use, cooking, and maybe magic👀 in the future

I reblog to @hiddenvalleyclan so check out there for other WC artists and secret memes

Main updates are twice a week on Tuesday/Thursday - bonus mini updates, lore text, and/or asks get posted whenever I feel like it

Begin Here

Moon 0 allegiances - Most recent allegiances

Lore and Maps

Asks: Open!

Feel free to ask worldbuilding, character asks, or ask me anything

Tags

Weekly updates - #ranchmoons

Bonus updates - #Bonusranch

Asks - #ranchasks

My personal posts - #luckyfoot meows

All cats will be tagged with their name, kits/apps will have updated tags with warrior names if they live that long

Gameplay Settings

Stable Version Cats can have kittens with cats who aren't their mate | ON Pregnancy ignores biology | ON Increase same sex adoption | OFF Romantic Interactions between former mentors or first cousins | OFF Cats will never retire due to serious condition | ON Cats can choose to become mediators | ON Leader auto picks new deputy | OFF Mass Extinction events | OFF (for now)

Other/TWs

The obvious TWs that come with canon-WC, animal injury/death (including kits), violence, blood, little bit of gore, murder, illness etc - Ranchclan may contend with drug use and drug abuse as we go on, including uses of catnip as a metaphor for cannabis, and cat psychedelics - but all of the above will be tagged with the appropriate cws per moon and drug use will have a cw posted the night before updates but that’s far far away in this comics timeline.

[papersparrows]

just some musings:

feeling really sad & questioning myself

i think i just reached the age where i start growing apart with ppl that i thought i'll keep in my life for a long time.

ang alam ko lang talaga, i'm out here minding my own business and trying to survive. trying to do the best i can do. i never even speak ill of anybody kahit pa they are people na kinainisan ko or even people who wronged me. then ppl start revealing who they are habang unaware ako. speaking about me and on my behalf, all behind my back habang ako clueless sa nangyayari. worst, closest friends and family ko pa.

ganon ba talaga? canon event ba to? haha. di ko alam. ang hirap niyang iprocess sobra. siguro kasi before mas bawas pa talaga friends ko and mga ganap ko sa buhay. pero siguro andito ako sa stage na maraming nangyayari, marami akong pinagkakaabalahan. nagugulat na lang talaga ako sa mga nalalaman ko and di ko na alam kung pano ako magrereact. do i do anything about it? who has the time and energy for that? or is that just the course of life and tanggapin ko na lang?

im questioning myself a lot kasi within the past few months, 3rd time na to. una, sa family ako nag detach. i disowned my own siblings na. umabot na kasi sa point na binugbog ako at binabastos na ng sarili kong kapatid habang yung isa naman dinefend siya. after everything i have given them and sacrificed for them. pangalawa, yung isa kong best friend na nangibang kumpanya na only to start shit doon and pry on other people's business tapos sakin isasabit yung issue pag nahuli siya when wala naman akong kinalaman doon haha. i got my vindication from that. proven my innocence and showed all the receipts from my end. but syempre, idc too much about being right. i still feel betrayed. i can act like i don't care about sobrang basura na mga tao like her (and i shouldn't! grabe all the patience and help i have given her since last year) but in reality it really cut me deep. and lastly, galing naman sa childhood best friends ko. since birth na bffs ko. who have betrayed me so many times before and yet i forgave them and always showed up for them and treated them like they're my blood.

ang hirap di mag kwestyon ng sarili kasi syempre di lang isang beses nangyari to recently sa buhay ko. can't help but evaluate myself and my actions and my decisions and lahat lahat and find kung ano yung pagkakamali at pagkukulang ko. lalo na to get this kind of treatment. from the very people i trusted with my life. or am i just naive at ganito lang talaga takbo ng buhay?

im 26 now and im a working professional and i have better things to do w my time and i always treat people best as i could. actually, i treat people better than they usually deserve. and i know the sane and mature thing is to dedma the bullshit that's going on. and im trying. and im doing that and i'll keep doing that. but im also a person and i have feelings and it hurts a lot. especially when ppl speak about me or decide on my character as a person without even giving me the space to speak for myself. syempre if yun yung gusto nilang gawin, so be it.

iba yung sakit when the very same ppl you've loved, defended, helped, showed endless grace for, sacrificed things for, are the same exact people who would easily throw u under the bus.

ewan. ang hirap inavigate ng adult life. people will really walk all over u if they think they're allowed to.

[lilflowerpot]

I don't know if you've answered something like this before, but what do you feel about druid Keith? I have a feeling I've seen a few posts from you about it before but for the life of me I cannot find them..

I've certainly been asked at least twice before whether Keith/Krolia has druidic ancestry in LB, which ofc I've declined answering altogether because, as per my FAQ, I don't discuss specifics regarding that which I may or may not have planned for future narrative events. That being said, if ever I've been prompted to discuss the concept of druidic Keith more generally (and I really thought I had been??) then the post in which I addressed it eludes me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So! I think the idea of Keith being a druid is deeply intriguing—it's space magic, what's not to like?—and it certainly could have been an interesting thread for canon to have pursued had they been so inclined, given his two confrontations with first the druid at the quintessence conversion facility, and later Macidus. In fact, yet another of my keitor month fics that I never actually finished but absolutely will, was built around the idea of Druidic!Krolia taking Druidic!Keith with her rather than leave him on Earth, only for her ship to be intercepted, seeing tiny hybrid baby Keith being handed over to Haggar, who—

—takes to him? Perhaps even loves him, as best she knows how, which (much like my Zarkon au) doesn't speak to a healthy dynamic so much as it does a deliciously complicated one; on some days the High Priestess is sharp and cold with a twisted edge to her smile, while on others she's quiet, at a glance, steeped in melancholy and a gentleness for which she seems ill-suited. As Keith grows up under her wing—her favourite, or so the whispers say, though no one truly knows whether that's a blessing or a curse—he becomes intimately familiar with her moods- or, no, that's not quite right. Because Haggar doesn't have moods so much as distinct personalities, two completely different people trapped inside the same head, and Keith is often forced to wonder which one of them it was that originally decided to claim him as her own.

[absolute-weirdo-inc]

UltraVerse Lore

Nightmare

-Nightmare is the main character

-Nightmare was found as a child (post-apple incident) and adopted him

-Nightmare is a genuinely good guy

-Dream basically abandoned him for the love of the villagers

-He is the same person as passive but was controlled ages 6-8 by an evil spirit (basically canon nightmare but a kid) so is now viewed as a villain since the spirit took his body on a joyride throughout the multiverse destroying 7 separate universes along the way

-Nightmare has bad trauma bcus of the villagers abuse

The MTT

-Basically act as one person since they are #codependentasfuck

-Chaos incarnate

-Nightmares precious babys (though NM wont admit it to anyone)

-The fight constantly

-Same lore as canon (No fanon horror ty bbg) ((We stan canon horror))

-Non canon ages (same with everyone else (ages shown further down))

Cross

-A bad guy

-Same canon as usual (obviously underverse isnt a thing but the events of Xtale still happened (this is important for his and ink’s relationship))

-Little brother vibes

-Hates annoying NM but it sometimes happens regardless

-Nightmares favourite child nonetheless

-The most idiotic of the bad guys but trys to act like hes a genius

Error

-Sometimes works with NM bug mainly on game night in the castle not on actual Multiverse shit (bcus ill be dambed if the baddies don’t get to kick each others asses in dumb games of charades (Nightmare kicks the most ass in scrabble bcus hes a fucking nerd and dust is surprisingly good at draw and killer guessing in picturnary))

-BBFs with Swap regardless

-Canon error all the way 0 exceptions (unless its for feather boas)

-Makes dolls for an orphanage in the omega timeline and donates the anonymously 😭

-Hates ink because he thinks he thinks hes a freak (no one on one rivalry bcus he prefers to put his time to good use and not use it on “a dumb looking, emo wannabe who sucks at everything and has the brain of a fucking sloth”… his words not mine bbg”

Dream

-A bit of an ass

-Truly believes he the hero (has no clue he’s fucking up the multiverse with all the positivity he spreads

-His anthem is literally SUI

-Overworks Swap without realising

-Was convinced by the village that NM is evil

-Drinks wine like everyone’s favourite english teacher who has had it up to here because of their incompetent husband (by incompetent husband i mean ink)

-I Stan him fr

Ink

-… underverse except hes dumb and is a dream simp lol

-BUT HES ALSO SO BBG

-hes just a combo of canon and fanon ink with a sprinkle of 💅

Swap

-ERROR BESTIE FOR LIFE AND AFTER (aka he has a childish crush on him and “FINDS HIS EVER SHIFTING FIGURE ALLURING”

-simp

-Left his home because he found out Alphys never planned on letting him join the royal guard and not only felt betrayed bcus everyone in his universe who matters knew but he also wanted to prove himself (in his words “WHATS BETTER THEN PROTECTING ONE UNDERGROUND” Error-“wH4T?”

“ALL OF THEM!!!!!!!” Error- “…’5uCS M3 wh4t?!”)

-Has met his fanon version… blueberry became jam

-Made some official armour

-Lost a bunch of weight after joining, he went from chubby to too skinny even for a skeleton

-Also has insomnia and nothing will help (not me projecting.. not at all

Ccino (yes Ccino is part of this multiverse)

-Basically the same as usual

-Him and Nightmare are best friends (no toxic shit bcus this ISNT FLUFFYMARE

yet)

-Would literally drop everything to have a conversation with one of his cats

-Is close with all the baddies and something joins them for game night (⚠️WARNING⚠️- Dont let this man play Monopoly, he is so cold hearted and will make you go bankrupt IRL, yes he is so good he made Horror cough up 100 gold after Horror landed on two of his maxed out properties in a row (he owns the whole fucking board))

-His brother is still alive and His name is Spresso (IDK where i found this idea for his name but ill hunt it down)

-Spresso is glad Ccino made lots of friends even if they are insane murders

Ships

I dont want to add a bunch of ships but like…

-Fluffymare

-Minor Drink

-Crepic

-Bloodycrop

and maybe more later. Im sorry my pubescent teenage brain wont let me write shit thats not gay as fuck.

Other shit

-There will be other characters like Lust and Reaper (obviously bcus of NMs lore) but i haven’t finished all my lore on their characters

-There is mentioned toxic swadmare bcus i can’t resist the angst

-Like mentioned Nightmare is the main character and since i tend to project he may not act canon (neither will anyone else tbh BUT I WILL TRY)

-this whole thing will be cringe because im a depressed teen who is still doing her GCSEs

-Also the updates will mostly be on my tumblr but i’ll post most of the writing on my ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/52174081

-Please dont hate me :3

[Love you all besties, thanks for your time]

[roseworth]

hi tumblr user roseworth im desperately trying to figure out how old rose and eddie were by the end of their tenures in tt03 / how long they knew each other and it is... difficult especially because sooo much happened dc-event-wise during tt03. do you have any canon sources or noncanon thoughts on their ages beyond eddie being 17 in part of tt03 and rose being 14(?) when lilli dies ^_^

hiiiiii <3 unfortunately i dont have a great answer for this bc. comic timelines. but ill do my very best

so for rose the only time we get anything about her age in tt03 is in issue #0.5 (when she gets taken by slade) when it says that lili and slade met 18 years ago

so i assume that makes rose ~17 when she join slade (since lili would've been pregnant for 9 months after this)

we also get this panel saying that lili died 18 months before rose joins slade, putting her at around 15 or 16 when lili dies. iirc she was 14 when wintergreen sees her for the first time, so we can assume a year went by between wintergreen meeting lili and lili's death (if tt03 is to be believed! but deathstroke 1991 (annual #4) mentions that shes 14 when her mom dies)

anyways this also means that roy hired her as a live-in nanny when she was 16 years old which is really funny to me. but none of that matters; point is she was 17ish at the start of tt03

this is just my personal headcanon but i assume that the time between titans/yj graduation day -> infinite crisis is around a year, and if rose joins up with slade a little after graduation day then shes with him for just under a year

HOWEVER if we go by what slade says in nightwing #112, rose has only been with him for a few months

so based on that, rose is 17 (probably closer to 18) when she leaves slade

then infinite crisis happens and we skip to a year later! so shes 18/19 now. we dont get any specifics on her age but just for funsies we can assume that shes at least 18 since shes smoking and cyborg doesnt have a problem with it (he confiscates her alcohol but not her cigarettes), and the tobacco age in california in 2006 was 18

THEN it gets complicated. i dont have a source for this but i think theres supposed to be a year between oyl -> final crisis, making rose 19/20 by fresh hell (the secret reason she got kicked off the teen titans was because she wasnt a teen #adulthood)

also in fresh hell, she orders alcohol at a bar in canada (in the northwest territories where the drinking age is 19) so theoretically that makes her at least 19. though she never actually gets the drinks because she gets in a fight 2 seconds after this so she doesnt get carded so who knows!

from there. i dont have much. i assume that a full year doesnt go by from fresh hell to the end of the universe (if anyone knows how long bart & kon were dead for that might change things, but i assume we're not given any exact info on how long it was), so i would put rose at ~20 right before the new 52 happens!!

as for eddie, ill use the same tt03 timeline that i used for rose

like you mentioned, hes 17 in tt03 #42 (for reference rose is 18/19 at this time)

he didnt join the teen titans that long before this, we see him asking to join in 52 #51, which is like a week or two before tt03 #34 (the first tt issue after oyl) so its safe to assume that eddie is 17 when he joins the team

anyways after #42, i dont think we get any mention of his age? which is honestly kinda weird since his age is Very Important given that hes selling his soul to neron at 20. we should have an eddie's age tracker at all times

if we assume that hes 17 when he joins the teen titans and oyl -> final crisis is 1 year, then hes right around 18 or 19 when he dies

when he loses his powers then tries to make another contract to get them back in tt03 #68, kid eternity mentions that he'd have "a few years of superheroing," so him being 18 around this time makes sense

then he dies in #74 </3 no mention of his age anywhere but id say hes right around 18 when he dies

take all of this with a grain of salt bc a lot of this is just me making up timelines. but i personally think rose is 15 when her mom dies, 17 when slade takes her, 18 when she leaves slade, and 19 as of tt03 #34 (oyl). and eddie is 17 when he joins the team and 18 when he dies!