#is that like.. it can BE completely nonsensical BUT that nonsense should still be rooted somewhere. The world - even if it works

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

I will never understand the notion that Zuko was the only one to support to Katara or that Zuko supported Katara more than Aang. Like that’s objectively false.

As someone who likes lots of hero X villain ships, and plenty of Good Girl X Bad Guy ships in particular, let me explain: it's just a popular cope/lie to justify hating on the good guy that is either part of a love triangle, and thus the bad guy's rival, or the only real love interest for the girl in cases of "fanon love triangles" like the Kataang VS Zutara one.

Lots of people who like that kind of dynamic, or simply rooting for the bad guy, are, for some reason, uncomfortable with the fact that these dynamics can get (and sometimes forever remain) messy, toxic, unhealthy or downright abusive, and that the bad guy is, in fact, bad and will do evil things to harm the hero, even if they are canonically in love (and again, the romance sometimes isn't even canon to begin with).

So they try to fix that "problem" by pretending the "evil love interest" was the only one that actually cared, and either never did anything to genuinely harm the romantic lead or did so much good stuff that it balances it out.

Meanwhile the "morally correct/default choice" is always demonized and talked about as a character that is not only boring, but also secretly selfish, controling, uncaring and/or abusive, yet the writers refuse to acknowledge is not the saint they claim he is. That is done solely to make the "bad guy" look better in comparison. Only twice in my life have I ever seen the "good guy" in the love triangle genuinely be as bad as the fandom says they are - Ted Mosby from How I Met Your Mother and Riley Finn from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Pretty much every other time I've seen fans use that argument? It was total bullshit.

That's literally all there is to the nonsense 'argument' of "Zuko cared about Katara even when he was still a bad guy, but Aang acted worse than he ever did all while being the hero the show never calls out." It's disregarding canon almost completely and creating an alternative version of the story that goes out of it's way to glorify Zuko's every action, while demonizing Aang, solely for the sake of saying "Therefore Zutara should have been canon and endgame instead of Kataang."

That's why they talk about nonsense like "Zuko was the only one to ever help Katara with chores during camp, while Aang expected her to be do everything by herself just because she's a girl." It never happened, but if it had it'd make Zutara look better than Kataang, so they just convince themselves that's what happened and repeat it to everyone else.

You'll never understand the logic in these arguments because there is none to be found in the first place, and you can't reason with these people because they simply don't care what happened in the show. They only care about their version of Avatar. The "Zuko" and "Aang" they describe in their fics, metas and headcanons are completely separate from the actual Zuko and Aang.

#anti zutara #pro kataang #pro aang

[punsmaster69]

15/OCT/20XX

"Frisk, don't hand me to this trashbag!"

flowey looked at frisk and they stared back.

apparently losing their invisible argument, flowey sighed.

frisk handed flowey's pot over to me, and nodded like it was a business transaction.

——

"An empty field? What, are you gonna try and take me out while you have the chance?"

i removed flowey from his pot and planted him in the dirt.

"....."

"What? Do you want me to run away?? Couldn't even muster the strength to kill me yourself, you-"

"it's a beautiful day outside."

flowey froze.

"don't you wanna stretch your roots?"

he stared at me, still suspicious. disappearing underground, he reappeared on my right.

"that's all you can do?"

he shot a few vines up from the ground.

"......"

"..What? WHAT?! What's with 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 face?"

"I- I can do more! Watch!!"

flowey assaulted a nearby tree with vines and circles of white pellets.

something felt familiar about it.

"......can't help but feel like those were yours."

"..What?"

"had a nightmare. pretty sure it was you in there."

"Golly! I'm the stuff of your nightmares? How 𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰!"

"in that nightmare..."

"snowdin had gone silent. everyone either evacuated.."

"or blended with the snow."

"that old lady behind the door... she went quiet, too."

"....."

"it's not the first night i've bore witness to a trail of dust and slaughter in my dreams."

"normally i'd just chalk it up to be a nightmare; nothing more, nothing less. but.."

"...that look on your face."

"you should think it's just some nightmare, too."

"yet, you have that look of someone who knows exactly what i'm talking about."

"......"

"timelines.. resetting..."

"everything about it.. sounds like i'm talking nonsense."

"and maybe i am, to a point."

"...still. you're here,"

"listening."

"that's gotta count for something, right?"

"...Look. You know what I did."

"You're gonna kill me, right? Because why wouldn't you? I killed everyone you ever loved time and time again!"

"..Just to see what happened."

"......"

"do you think that even the worst person can change?"

"that everyone can be a good person, if they just try?"

"...guess i said that before, huh?"

"....."

"i think i've got my answer."

"...?"

i looked up at the sky that was now glowing orange. faint stars dotted the view as the afternoon came to a close.

"you have the ability to take this all away, don't you?"

"I can't RESET anymore. Only Frisk has that power now."

"you still have that capacity to cause hurt. even without time-bending abilities."

"if you truly wanted to, you could probably take me out right now."

"I'm not doing that-"

"right."

"and whether you would have said the same before.."

"well."

"that doubt is enough to prove you've changed."

flowey seemed to contemplate it, looking up at the sky with me.

"......."

"doesn't mean you're not still a complete asshole, though."

he whipped around to face me.

"HEY! You're not exactly great either!"

"takes one to know one, i guess."

"Trashbag!"

"shithead."

"Moron!"

"buttface."

"Motherfucker."

"not yet."

a white pellet barely missed my face.

"Maybe I WILL kill you, after all!!"

"can't die just yet. i made a promise to my bro."

"That you wouldn't... die?"

"yep."

"...….."

"Hah... he probably accidentally asked the impossible."

"don't plan on rolling over and dying anytime soon. not yet."

flowey sighed.

"....You.. well, I don't actually know if you were 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 dead."

"But.. you didn't wake up."

"..when'd this happen?"

"Here, on the surface."

"how'd we get out without the last human soul?"

"No, I mean-"

"𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 time."

"Frisk didn't want me to tell you, because that'd mean admitting to going back on a promise."

"......."

"It's kinda pathetic, how much everyone cares for you."

"...."

"huh."

"...is it inevitable?"

"I don't.. I don't think so."

"You're already way better now than you were around September last time."

"I don't know what you're doing differently, but keep doing it!"

——

"....Hey."

"You won't blab to Frisk about what I told you just now, right?"

"nah. of course, i don't love that they went back on their word.."

"Their heart was in the right place!"

"i can agree with that."

"you won't tell paps either, right?"

"Of course not! If he knew that he failed to protect you, even just once..."

"It'd rip his heart to shreds!"

"I'm surprised you're so.. okay with that."

"With knowing you probably died."

"...Recently."

"apparently i almost didn't wake up already."

"What?!"

"papyrus said i was completely unresponsive to everything. didn't move but once the whole time."

"said i only shambled my way to the bathroom to throw up blood, then collapsed again."

"when something like that happens.. what can someone do besides accept that he might die?"

"...You're not giving up already, are you?"

"...."

"You can't!"

"...yeah. i can't."

"made a promise, remember?"

"If you die, Frisk will have to load their SAVE again. Which means that everyone will relive the past four months, over and over again until you survive."

"You HAVE to live this time."

"Got it?"

"jeez. you're making it sound like you 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦."

"You KNOW I can't."

"I wouldn't care about you, even if I could!"

"yep."

"...What? WHAT?"

"I wouldn't!"

"ok."

"...Yeah!"

i flopped over onto my back.

"Huh? You're not really gonna fall asleep THERE, right?"

"don't see why not."

"You know what? End up eaten by wolves, or kidnapped, or whatever. I don't care."

"I'll just get to rub it in your face that it was your fault."

"Later, trashbag!"

"seeya."

——

"THERE YOU ARE!"

"IF IT WEREN'T FOR FLOWERY TELLING ME YOU WERE HERE, I MIGHT HAVE BEEN SEARCHING FOR HOURS!"

he noticed the open sky, starlight illuminating a look of awe.

papyrus laid himself out on the field beside me.

"I SUPPOSE YOU CAN STAY FOR A LITTLE BIT LONGER."

"YOU SHOULD TAKE YOUR TELESCOPE OUT HERE SOMETIME!"

"yeah?"

"YEAH!! I BET YOU COULD SEE A LOT FROM HERE!"

"......"

"..WHAT?? HOW CAN YOU FALL ASLEEP AGAIN IN THE FACE OF SUCH BEAUTY?!"

"SIGH."

"IS THERE ANYTHING YOU'RE BETTER AT THAN SLEEPING?"

"....OH!"

"YOUR X-RAY IS TOMORROW."

"MAYBE IT'S BETTER IF YOU SLEEP, AFTER ALL."

#journal #undertale #skelebros #sans #flowey #papyrus #papyrus and sans #sans and flowey #sans and papyrus #something about a starry tree-lined field makes you have deep thoughts.

[dragonanon]

I’ve got Beehive Gear station brain worms again, and Bee Elesa brings in SO much angst potential for this au and I am here for it. So here’s a mildly angsty blurb.

It was honestly just poor timing that Elesa “returned” to the hive while you had a belly full of eggs. You weren’t feeling that great about being so big and heavy to begin with, and having your Kings and Drones fawn over someone who would’ve been the Queen now were it not for the fact that the previous Queen was a complete sociopath, was NOT helping in the slightest. The hormones from the strange pseudo pregnancy were not helping either, and in fact only exacerbated your jealousy and feelings of low self esteem.

At the end of the day however, you were honestly more upset about the fact that you were even getting upset about this in the first place. It’s completely petty and unjustified, and you know it. Your Kings and Drones have never once given you any reason whatsoever to doubt their love and loyalty to you, and even now as you lay sulking in a blanket burrito and watching “The Real Housewives of Nimbasa City” in the dark, you don’t doubt any of them. So why on Earth were you getting so bent out of shape about this then??? No one has done anything wrong, yet here you are feeling like a bitter jealous cow. And you hate it. You hate it SO fucking much, and you don’t want to burden your poor hive OR Elesa with your petty sour grapes because they don’t deserve to subjected to that nonsense.

So instead, you stay curled around your belly and join the, admittedly bitchy, group of women on screen in reveling in the fact that the bitchiest woman in the group is currently making a complete fool of herself at a bachelorette party. No joke she’s about to get herself kicked off the yacht for her drunken bs, and at this point you’re just rooting for her to fall overboard before she can get kicked off because tbh, fuck her.

The Hive has obviously noticed your shift in mood though, and how you’ve taken to holing yourself up in your chambers and binging reality TV shows. However no one really knows what to do about it because you insist that you’re fine, and while you aren’t necessarily doing anything harmful or bad, something is very clearly bothering you but you’re refusing to talk to anyone about it. It’s making the Hive uneasy knowing that their Queen is upset about something, but they can’t figure out what it is and you won’t tell them either.

The Kings are especially distressed, they’re your Kings, your confidants! You’re supposed to be able to turn to them when something’s bothering you, yet you’re pushing even them away! This is completely abnormal behavior for you, and it has them worried about you and the eggs you carry.

Seeing her close friends and former Hive in distress, Elesa takes it upon herself to talk to you and try to find out what’s going on. You resist at first, insisting that you’re fine and just want to continue watching your shows. Until Elesa takes you by the hands and says “You don’t have to put on an act for me. I might only be a Princess, but I still know when a Queen is putting on a brave face to mask the hurt they feel deep down. I’m not going to make you talk about what’s bothering you, but if you need or want some support, I’m right here.”

Well that broke the dam, and now you’re openly bawling. Elesa doesn’t say anything, but holds you close and rubs your back in a soothing manner while you sob into her coat. After your initial sobbing dies down, you tearfully explain how insecure in your body and position you’ve been feeling lately. And how you feel so guilty for being Queen when it should’ve been Elesa in your place. You feel awful for even HAVING these feelings because by all accounts, your life is so perfect that you should have nothing to be upset about and you should be grateful for your current life.

Elesa comforts you through all of this, reassuring you that you’re a wonderful Queen who deserves to be where you are now and having these thoughts and feelings don’t make you a bad Queen. She does ask though why you kept this in for so long. You explain that you didn’t mean to but seeing how happy your Kings and Hive have been since she came back, you felt like it would be selfish of you to ruin that happiness with your negative thoughts and feelings by making everything about you. So it was easier to just withdraw and not voice how lonely and neglected you felt.

Elesa is still calm and reassuring to you, offering much needed comfort to you as she helps you get settled in for a nap. After that however, the shitstorm begins! Elesa storms out of your chambers and straight to the Kings (Insert the “menacing” Jojo meme), where after knocking them both upside the head, proceeds to give them the verbal buttchewing of a lifetime and she lays it on THICK; scolding them both for being so neglectful to their Queen, that she had to turn to a near stranger for emotional support!

“We didn’t know she was feeling so terrible, she never told us-“

“SHE IS YOUR QUEEN, YOU DONKEYS! SHE SHOULDN’T HAVE TO SPELL OUT EXACTLY WHAT SHE’S FEELING TO GET YOU TWO TO PAY ATTENTION TO HER! HELL, HAVE EITHER OF YOU EVEN BOTHERED TO VISIT HER TODAY??”

The Kings are mortified by the realization that they’ve been severely neglecting their poor Queen, and during a time when you’re at your most vulnerable no less! Their first instinct is to rush to you, to comfort you and beg for your forgiveness. But Elesa physically stops them, saying that you’re currently taking a much needed nap and that if they DARE wake you up, she will personally castrate them both. The Kings know well enough that Elesa isn’t one to make empty threats, so they back down and instead start working on putting together lavish little spa day of sorts for when you eventually wake up.

#when you wake up you’re treated to a lavish spa session and very apologetic kings #the pampering is MUCH appreciated and you forgive them of course #ingo is still distraught though that he allowed his excitement over the return of an old friend that he neglected his poor queen #emmet is similarly distressed #he’s not great with communication and assumed that whatever was bothering you you had under control since you insisted you were fine #in hindsight he can clearly see that you were in fact NOT fine and he’s kicking himself for not seeing it #beehive gear station au #bee hive gear station au #submas #ingo and emmet #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #ingo x reader x emmet #elesa makes sure your kings know that she’s watching them and that if they neglect you again there will be hell to pay

[weepingfromacedartree]

Ten Milestones: Living Together

Hi friends! New chapter up for anyone interested

CW: alcohol consumption // COVID // toxic family dynamics // mentions of illicit drug use

Living Together

Contrary to what Colin may claim, Penelope honestly doesn’t want to argue every one of these points. Though she may have found this game tedious at best and nonsense at worst when they first started playing about an hour ago, her opinion on the matter has since shifted.

She likes this game. She’s rooting for their shared victory. She wants to go through each one of these milestones and discover that they’ve already done all the dirty work of dating — that they’re ready to get married. 

She wants them to win so desperately that she has willingly pushed past many of the technicalities and shortcomings of the previous milestones. So when Colin reads the next one aloud, she has to remind herself that there is only so much you can stretch the truth before you break it completely. 

“Number Seven: Living Together. Cohabitation is arguably the best compatibility test for a relationship. Living in a shared space with your partner will undoubtedly bring out parts of yourselves that remain hidden when spending so much time apart — bad habits, quirks, routines, secrets, and more. Seeing if you can stand living in such close proximity to your partner is essential in determining if you two can share a life together.”

With a disappointed half-laugh caught in the back of her throat, Penelope says, “I suppose we should have seen this one coming.” 

At her words, Colin lifts one confused brow. 

“Everyone says you can’t really know a person until you’ve lived with them,” she goes on to explain, more confused than disappointed now.

Why isn’t he —

“It’s a good thing I lived with you and still want to marry you.” 

She tilts her head at his words. Not in confusion — she instantly knows what he is referring to. 

“That was basically a sleepover.” 

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

Three Years Earlier: March 11th, 2020

Relationship Status: Cohabitants

꙳

Day 0

“When does your flight leave, dear?”

“In about two hours,” Colin mumbles into his phone, nearly choking on a piece of apple strudel in the process. 

He’s eating breakfast on the edge of his already-made bed. As he finishes swallowing, he glances around the hotel room he’s inhabited for the past six weeks. It’s very quaint. Refurbished furnishings that are meant to look original. A small kitchen and an even smaller bathroom. Beige features, everywhere the light touches. 

Colin was supposed to remain in this quaint, beige, uninviting room for seven weeks total, but something came up. 

“I’m about to check out, then I’ll head over to the airport.” 

“Oh. Good.” 

Violet’s voice is stilted and soft. So soft, that Colin can practically hear his mother’s hands wringing together through the phone. 

“Mum, don’t worr—”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come home early? I was just watching the news. They say cases are skyrocketing in Italy and —”

“I’m not going to Italy, mum,” he reminds her, trying his hardest to keep his tone light. He understands why she worries… But he has other, more self-serving matters on his mind. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll always worry, dear. When you have children of your own, you’ll realise truer words have never been spoken.”

Colin silently thanks god she hadn’t facetimed him. He’s not sure he would be forgiven for the eye roll he just committed. 

“You make parenthood sound so delightf—”

“Have you spoken to Penelope yet today?” Violet interrupts, her voice a pleasant tone that remains fringed with worry.

He can’t help the crooked grin that breaks apart his lips. 

“Yup. I just got off the phone with her. She’s about to leave, too.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

The first time Colin arrived in Paris was in 2015, a few weeks before his twenty-third birthday. Like so many before him, he had entered the city with high expectations. Too high, he eventually realised. 

During his weeks here, he enjoyed many of the individual aspects of the trip. The food, the art, the skyline, the wine… All of those things were good. And yet, when he ultimately left the city, he could not help but feel as though the sum of his experiences never succeeded in meeting his otherworldly expectations. 

There’s a term for that feeling. “Paris Syndrome.” It isn’t exclusive to this particular city — it can apply to any place you enter into with expectations so high that they could never be met here on the ground. Colin has experienced that feeling a few times over the last four years, nine months, and two days. But during all of those trips, he did his best to prevent any disappointment from bleeding through in his articles. After all, you cannot blame a city for failing to achieve the perfection that was thrusted upon it. 

When Penelope called two weeks ago to inform Colin that she was coming to Paris for work, any lingering disappointments he felt towards the city instantly vanished. When she asked if he could meet her here, his schedule instantly cleared. 

Now, at twenty-seven, Colin steps through the city with new expectations. He could eat hot garbage and drink sewer water the rest of the week, and none of it would deter his mood. Not with Penelope by his side. 

He’s late to meet her. Four hours late, to be exact. His flight was a mess, as was seemingly every other flight out of Václav Havel. But in spite of the initial chaos, Colin has finally arrived at his intended destination. 

She doesn’t see him when he walks in. She’s sitting at the bar, legs crossed beneath her, emerald green peacoat draped over the back of her stool. She has a glass of red wine in one hand and her phone in the other. She’s wearing a black shift dress and red lipstick, the latter of which he can barely make out while she remains turned away from him. She —

She looks perfect, he thinks in those last few seconds before capturing her attention. 

“Sorry, but is this seat taken?” 

She turns so quickly that her red curls nearly whip him in the face. Her blue eyes are bright and round, but he barely gets the chance to look at them before she jumps off her stool and hugs him. 

“Hi,” she says into his shoulder, a few seconds later. The word is barely audible; he can feel it more than he can hear it. 

“Hey, Pen,” he says into her hair. It smells like honey. 

“How was your flight?” 

“Delayed,” he grumbles, then takes the stool beside hers. He signals for the bartender to get him whatever glass of wine Penelope had ordered for herself. “How was the train?”

“Good,” she answers, in a tone that doesn’t match her sentiment. Her eyes cast down to her phone for a split second before continuing, “The stations were pretty hectic, though. A lot of trips were cancelled at the last minute.” 

Colin nods and grimaces, remembering the scene he left behind at De Gaulle. In hindsight, he should be grateful his flight took off at all. 

When Penelope raises her drink to her lips and takes a rather long sip, Colin cannot help but notice the conflicted look that passes on her face through the glass. 

“You don’t think it was a bad idea to —”

“No,” Colin interrupts decisively. He nods to the bartender in thanks as she hands him his drink. “Don’t worry about that. If it was dangerous for you to be here, they wouldn’t have let you on that train.”

“True,” Penelope says, still not sounding so sure of herself. But then she scrunches her nose, and the look that settles on her face afterwards is absent of worry. 

“I can’t believe we’re in Paris,” she notes, smiling. 

“Believe it,” Colin orders with a smile matching hers. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

The night air is warm — for March, at least. Penelope is bundled up in her oversized peacoat, while Colin’s jacket sits on the bench between them. Although it certainly wasn’t intended as such, that pile of brown leather acts as a barrier between their bodies. 

It’s not actually that warm, even for springtime. But Colin’s body feels warm — particularly in his chest and on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

Must be the wine.

They’re sitting on the edge of the Champ de Mars, waiting with hundreds of strangers for midnight to strike and cause the tower in the distance to illuminate the darkness with twinkling lights. Penelope is talking with so much excitement that her body is practically vibrating. She’s telling him all about her article on the Notre Dame fire and her plans to visit the reconstruction efforts later in the week. Colin, in spite of his buzz from the bar and the literal, incessant buzzing originating from the phone in his back pocket, is doing his best to remain an attentive listener. Listening to Penelope speak is usually one of his favourite activities, but right now…

Right now, he finds it to be an impossibly difficult task. It’s difficult to pay attention to words spoken from such perfect red lips. Lips he would very much like to be kissing right —

“Colin?” 

Clearly, he was not acting as an attentive listener, for he has no idea what question Penelope is prompting him to answer. 

“Hmm?” 

“Oh, I —” She laughs. “Thank you, again, for meeting me here.” 

Colin shakes his head, instinctually opposed to the notion of accepting thanks for such a self-serving act. But instead of arguing with her, he simply says, “Thank you for finally taking me up on that offer to run off together.” 

Penelope doesn’t argue against his words. She doesn’t say anything. She simply turns her attention forward, towards the structure in the distance, still lit with a flat yellow gleam. 

Like it so often does, a comfortable silence falls between them. The thing about comfortable silences, though, is that there are always uncomfortable distractions around, threatening to break them. Like the truly incessant buzzing from Colin’s phone (undoubtedly caused by some inconsequential but extremely common argument in the Bridgerton family group chat). Or the group of teenagers walking past, moaning about something in a language Colin could only understand before his third glass of wine. Or that invisible force that keeps pulling him towards the woman he loves so dearly. Or whatever it is that appears on Penelope’s phone and draws a gasp from those perfect red lips. 

“Oh my fucking god,” she whispers, ultimately breaking that comfortable silence of theirs. Her words tumble out in one hurried breath. 

“What?” 

Colin’s gaze travels from Penelope’s lips to her eyes. He doesn’t dare drop it, even when the faintest glimmer of twinkling lights appears in his peripheral vision.

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 1

Their trip ended the very moment the word “pandemic” fell from Penelope’s lips. 

In a more literal sense, it ended the next morning when they received calls from their respective bosses ordering them to return home as fast as humanly possible. Penelope received that call from Danbury. Colin received his from both Anthony and Violet.

They spent the morning on Penelope’s balcony, munching on room service pastries as they scoured the internet for tickets to London. For all his experience securing last-minute transportation, Colin felt wholly unprepared for the plight of booking passage home during a pandemic. Flights, trains, and buses everywhere were getting bought out or cancelled before he could add the tickets to his cart. It was madness. 

Eventually, Penelope found two open seats on an Easyjet flight. They had less than an hour to get to the airport. Once there, they sat in a terminal for six hours due to a series of delays and rebookings. 

Eventually, they boarded their plane. She sat in seat 24A, he in 31E. Due to the full flight and their unfortunate seating arrangements, Colin could not witness Penelope’s reaction to their liftoff. He didn’t know if her hands still shake when the engines rumble to life, or if her teeth clench down when the plane lifts into the air. He was not there to offer her comfort, if comfort was what she needed in that moment. 

Eventually, they arrived back in London. At first, Penelope had briefly considered returning to her own flat in Hyde Park (and risk passing along potentially life-threatening germs to her roommate). In the end, though, it only took a few passing words for Colin to convince her to choose the far more responsible, CDC-advised option of quarantining in his flat for the next two weeks. 

Now, they’re sitting in traffic in the backseat of a cab. 

Now, he’s placing a hand over hers, silently urging her to stop picking at her own fingernails. 

Now, her head is falling on his shoulder, exhausted by the events of the last 24 hours. 

Now, he’s regrettably pulling her back into the realm of consciousness and out into the cold.

Now, he’s holding a door open for her. 

Now, he’s carrying their luggage into a lift. 

Now, they’re home. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 3

When Penelope packed her suitcase Tuesday night, she had packed for five days in Paris. For walking along the Seine and marvelling masterpieces and conducting interviews at the Notre Dame restoration. She had not packed for fourteen days in Colin’s flat.

There are exactly two sets of pyjamas that Penelope deems comfortable and appropriate enough to wear in his vicinity — everything else has been banished to her luggage, where it will remain for the rest of her stay here. Thankfully, Colin, the ever-dutiful host, offered her a variety of alternatives from his own closet upon their arrival. 

His t-shirts are okay, but tend to sit too snuggly on her chest to meet the “appropriate” requirements of her self-appointed dress code. His flannels are better — loose and soft and always a nice shade of blue or green. His jumpers are her favourite, though — even if the weather creeping in from outside is slightly too warm for such attire.

(She doesn’t have much choice when it comes to bottoms. Even when rolled up three-fold, his sweatpants and pyjama bottoms are too much of a tripping hazard. She’ll be wearing basketball shorts for the remainder of her time here, it seems.) 

She’s wearing his burgundy jumper today — the same one she wore yesterday. Like yesterday, she’s spent almost all of her time on the big blue couch in his living room, watching the news, distracting herself with a movie, and/or doom-scrolling on her phone. Colin has been on the other end of the couch through most of that time, but he currently happens to be in the kitchen. From the faint sounds carrying in from down the hall, she can tell that he’s putting a kettle on and has Benedict on speakerphone. 

It isn’t until this very moment that Penelope realises that Colin is the best distraction of them all. As soon as he left her line of sight, her mind began to wander to everything she cannot see, but worries deeply about. 

Like her three-week-old niece, Poppy. Her sisters. Her mum. Getting an unexpected call from her mum. Getting an unexpected call from her editor. Her article. Whether or not she’ll have a job by the time the world returns to normal. The world, whether or not it will ever return to normal. Hospitals. Doctors. Nurses. Children. Little Auggie and even littler Blair. Daphne. Eloise. Colin. Herself. The ever-tenuous state of their friendship. The likelihood that it will survive the next fourteen —

“Pen.” 

She literally jumps from her spot, having been too consumed by her thoughts to hear Colin walk back into the room. He’s standing before her with a cup of tea in his hand and a humorous look in his eye. After passing her the mug, he asks where her head just was. 

“Everywhere,” she jokes. Even if it isn’t exactly a joke. 

“I —”

“Did you get any information out of your brother?” she interrupts. This is closer to a joke. 

A few days before the pandemic was officially declared, Benedict saw the warning signs and fled the city to stay with a “friend” in Southampton. Beyond that, the details of his current whereabouts are unknown. (Despite his siblings’ incessant interrogations on the subject.)

“Nope.” 

“What’s the current theory? New girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

Colin chuckles into his mug. “The jury’s hung,” he tells her. “But whatever type of friend they are, knowing Benedict, there are benefits involved.” 

Preemptively hiding the blush that is surely about to appear on her cheeks, Penelope raises her cup and takes a sip of her tea. Milk and honey, just the way she likes it. 

“Well, wherever he may be, it was nice of him to lend me his room to sleep in while he’s gone.” 

Colin doesn’t say anything to that, but nods his head lightly in agreement. 

When a palpable quiet settles between them, Penelope realises that Colin had turned the news off while she had been lost in thought. Instinctually, her free hand wraps around the remote control sitting on the coffee table in front of them. Before she can hit the power button, though, Colin’s hand appears out of nowhere and plucks it out of her grip. 

“Let’s not,” he says dismissively. He then tosses the remote onto the armchair in the back corner of the room. 

“Why —”

“The news is so depressing. Let’s take a break and properly enjoy our tea.” With that, he clinks his mug against the one Penelope’s barely hanging onto. 

“What difference does it make?” she asks, standing to retrieve the discarded remote. “Everything is depressing. One cup of tea isn’t going to change that.” 

Usually, Penelope is not so quick to voice such blatant negativity aloud (especially in Colin’s presence), but these are unprecedented times. 

Just as her pointer finger hovers over the little red button, the remote slips from her grasp once again. Standing now, Colin slides it into the pocket of his grey sweatpants. Though these may be unprecedented times, there is nothing in this world that could deliver Penelope the confidence (or madness) to try and retrieve it from there. Instead, she sits back down with a huff. 

“Sit in silence, then?” 

Lowering himself to the cushion next to hers, Colin begins to chuckle — an act Penelope deems wildly inappropriate, given its time, place, and irritated audience. 

“What are you —”

“What exactly, Pen, is so depressing about your current situation?” 

She looks at him wide-eyed and gaping, needing a moment to answer such an obvious, impossible question. 

“In case you forgot, the world is falling ap—”

“No. I didn’t ask what’s wrong with the world. What’s so depressing about your life right now? What’s troubling you, Pen?” 

She needs another moment to answer this question, but instead of staring at Colin, she turns away. She takes note of her surroundings. 

She’s sitting on a big blue couch with her favourite person. She’s safe, healthy, and teetering on the edge of insanity. Knowing all the misery happening in the world outside this flat…

She shrugs. “Nothing, I suppose.” 

Colin barks out a singular, disbelieving chuckle. “Well that’s not true.” 

“I have empathy, Colin,” she shoots back. “I’m allowed to be upset about the state of the world, even if I’m not personally impacted.” 

“What do you mean you’re not ‘impacted?’ The whole world shut down, everyone is impacted.” 

“I know, but…”

It’s only after her voice trails off that Colin continues, “We were supposed to be in Paris today. Now we’re stuck in my flat and fighting over whether or not to watch the incredibly depressing news. You are allowed to be troubled, Pen.” 

After a few seconds mulling over his words…

“Being stuck in a flat in London is different than — you know — dying from a mysterious illness that didn’t exist until a few months ago.” 

“I know,” Colin insists, humour finally wiped clean off his face. “But you don’t have to be in active peril to be sad about your current circumstances. You selflessly refusing to moan about a missed holiday won’t resolve anyone else’s suffering.” 

She doesn’t quite know what to say to that. “Are you sad about your current circumstances?” is what she eventually settles on.

He takes a moment before responding. His eyes roam, seeming to point in every direction but to her own. 

“Mixed. I’m sad about our trip getting cut short so abruptly. I would prefer to be in Paris than London today. I’m happy I get to spend more time with you than originally planned.” 

Resisting the urge to fester on the last part of his statement for a single second, Penelope simply says, “I thought you didn’t like Paris.” 

From his spot one cushion over, Colin squints in that way that makes his blue eyes look grey. 

“I don’t remember telling you that.” 

“I don’t think you did,” she realises out loud. Absentmindedly, she places her mug down on the table. “But, you know… I edited every single one of your pieces back then. I suppose it just stuck out to me at the time, how it seemed less…” 

She tilts her head upward, searching her brain for the right word. When she glances back to Colin, his eyes are round and blue again. 

“It just, um, seemed less enthusiastic than your writing on other destinations.”

“I —”

“Not that it was any less lovely to read,” she adds with a quiet, nervous laugh. “Just different in tone.” 

“Regardless…” He sighs, and the corners of his mouth tick upward just a little. “I was excited to revisit it. And to see you see it for the first time.” 

“I’m sad about missing Paris, too,” she finally admits. “Even if being with you here instead of there isn’t so bad.” 

Before she can process that it’s even happening, Colin is hugging her. His arms are wrapped around her back. Her lips are pressed into his shoulder. Her heart is beating so quickly that she fears he can feel it against his own chest. 

“Paris will be there when this is all over,” he mumbles into her hair. “We can always go back.”

She wants to tell him how hard that future is for her to imagine. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t say anything, answering instead with a tiny nod against his shoulder. When her nose brushes against the fabric of his t-shirt, she’s reminded of the true reason why she loves his jumpers so. 

For as long as she can remember, Colin has always smelt the same. Like fresh grass, “unscented” bar soap, and the faintest hint of sweat. Like home. 

That scent tends to stick around on jumpers like the one she’s been wearing for the past two days. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 5

Eyes too alert to find sleep, Colin turns his gaze from the ceiling to the alarm clock on his left. The bright red display informs him that it is just after midnight. 

Turning towards the wall and away from those taunting numbers, Colin thinks over the last few days. He thinks of Penelope’s stay here. He thinks of the good — the talking, the closeness, the making up for lost time. He thinks of the not-so-good — the world outside, the worry that keeps creeping up her face, his inability to keep his desires at bay while she remains so close. 

That last point weighs the heaviest on his mind. It’s the reason he’s currently awake and restless in bed. 

On that night in Paris, he came so close to acting on his physical desires for Penelope. He was seconds away from kissing her in the moonlight, he realises in hindsight. He was so close to risking it all while drunk on wine and the perfect curve of her lips so close to his. Then, like a sign sent directly from God (or perhaps the CDC), the world came crashing down around them. 

Now, Colin can’t risk it all. He couldn’t possibly put Penelope in that position — not when she’s forced to remain here with him for the next nine days. But having her so close to him at all times of the day…

It’s difficult. It’s good in so many ways, but it’s also difficult. There’s no escaping your feelings for someone when they are never more than a few footsteps away from you. Penelope is wearing his clothes every day and sleeping on the other side of his wall every night. Colin is growing restless, but as much sleep as he may lose over his desires…

He can’t risk it all now. As much as he wants to. 

After a few more minutes turning over and over in bed, Colin lifts his head from his pillow. He hears something new emanating from the darkness. 

Footsteps. 

He listens as the tentative creaking noises get louder and softer, walking past his bedroom door, then away from it. Curious and alarmingly awake, Colin extricates his body from his sheets, pulls the first t-shirt he can find over his head, then heads in the same direction as those footsteps.

Penelope is in the kitchen. Her body is turned away from him and towards the kettle on the stove. The room is dark; her figure is outlined by the stove light that’s illuminating next to nothing. She must have not heard him coming, because she literally jumps around when he whispers her name from the doorway. 

“Oh — Colin! Sorry,” she sputters out. She points her thumb behind her, towards the kettle. “I couldn’t sleep. I just wanted to — Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” He steps across the precipice, leaning against the sink so his body stands about a metre away from Penelope’s. “I would have needed to find sleep to begin with for that to be possible.”

“Is there a lot on your mind?” 

Colin doesn’t know how to answer that question truthfully. Yes, there was a lot on his mind keeping him awake tonight. No, not in the way Penelope had intended the question. 

(She had not intended to ask if he had been too horny to fall asleep tonight.) 

In the end, he simply shrugs and blames “the usual bout of insomnia” for his presence in this dimly-lit kitchen.

Penelope mumbles something that sounds like, “I thought that was my thing,” before turning back to her original task. As she pulls out two mugs from the cabinet, Colin clears his throat. 

“What was keeping you up tonight?”

“Oh. You know…” 

She doesn’t expand on her words. She keeps her eyes pointed on the kettle, patiently waiting for it to whistle. Colin lasts about 10 seconds before opening his mouth again. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Pen. Even if the circumstances that forced you into my flat aren’t ideal.”

He’s not exactly sure what prompted him to say that. When Penelope finally turns to look him in the eye again, he can tell that she shares his curiosity. Before she can ask, though, he continues on. 

“I feel like we’re making up for lost time. You know… After spending 90% of the last five years on separate continents.” 

“Oh, Colin,” she says, and Colin cannot recall ever hearing two words uttered so sadly in his lifetime. “There is no ‘lost’ time to make up for. Not when we spent nearly every day of those five years communicating in one way or another.”

“That’s not the same,” he insists. “And after putting up with all of the emails and voicemails and other random shit I send you on a daily basis, I think this was long overdue.”

Penelope breaks their eye contact, shaking her head lightly as she turns her gaze downwards. With her voice barely above a whisper, she says, “I don’t ‘put up’ with anything.” Then, louder, “But while we’re on the subject, I did want to ask you about those emails.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he needles, feeling cheekier than he has since stepping foot into this room.

“Yeah. It’s just… Between your articles and those emails, when do you have the time to actually go out into the world and gather material for them? It seems like all you do is write.”

“It’s quite simple, really. I experience the world during the day and write about it at night.”

“When do you manage to sleep, then?”

“Oh. I don’t.” He raises his arms in gesture to the darkness around them. “That’s the trick.”

Penelope’s laughter coincides with the kettle’s whistle. After handing him his mug, she takes a step back — a step further than she was just a moment ago. 

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about being away from home so often,” she tells him. “For me or for anyone. Travelling — that’s your passion. You’re lucky to have found it at such a young age. You should hold onto it with both hands.”

Suddenly feeling at a loss for words, Colin nods into his cup. The water is hot, and yet his sip is long. 

He can’t recall a single time over the last twenty-seven years that he has ever disagreed with Penelope as strongly as he does in this very moment. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 7

“Go fish.”

“Christ, Penelope. We’re friends — could you drop the poker face, just once?”

She laughs into her remaining two cards. 

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.” 

They play for a few more minutes before Penelope secures her third win of the night. When Colin flips his remaining ten cards over and discards them on the coffee table, she can’t help but notice that they’re all hearts and diamonds — red cards, only. 

Standing suddenly, Colin rakes a hand through his hair and walks over to the cabinet on the other side of the room. “Let’s switch to a game that I actually have a chance at winning,” he mutters, his back turned towards her. 

As he searches through a pile of board games, Penelope fishes her phone out of the couch cushions behind her. In the time it had taken for them to play three rounds of Go Fish, she had received several notifications. 

One text from Eloise, asking if Colin has driven her mad yet. A few news updates with death tolls, outbreak reports, and other awful, unimaginable statistics she’s now receiving on an hourly basis. At least a dozen messages from her family group chat, the last of which came from her mum, about a minute ago. 

It’s awful. Being stuck in this giant house all by myself.

“Scrabble?” 

Penelope’s head whips up to find Colin presenting the big burgundy box in the air. 

“Oh, um… I don’t know. Perhaps another night?”

After throwing her a sarcastic scowl, Colin puts the Scrabble box away, walks over, and plops back down on the spot on the rug opposite Penelope. 

“Something wrong?” he asks her. 

Without meaning to, her eyes dip down to her phone screen. 

“‘No,” she lies. “It’s just… Doesn’t it feel kind of weird to be playing games right now?”

“Now? As in… The end of the world?”

“I wish you would stop calling it that.” She sighs. “But yes.” 

“I quite literally cannot think of a better time to sit around playing games.” 

Penelope can’t help but roll her eyes slightly, because of course he can’t. 

“I don’t know.” Her gaze unconsciously drops to the phone in her lap again. “It just feels sort of… wrong. Like I can’t have a bit of fun without being reminded of how awful it is for everyone else in the world.” 

When she eventually summons the strength to look up again, Colin’s face is marked by concern. His eyes bear into hers. 

“I —”

“Pen, you cannot hold your own happiness hostage for the sake of others. There’s no good that can come from forcing yourself to be miserable.”

Not for the first time in her life, Penelope is struck by how good Colin is at making life seem so much simpler than it really is. But while her instincts typically lead her to either challenge his revisionist view of reality or simply brush his words away, right now, she’s tempted to believe him. She’s tempted to buy into his bullshit. 

“You’re so wise for someone who just lost so badly at Go Fish.”

“Thanks, Pen.” He laughs, then picks up the deck of cards still sitting atop the table between them. “Rematch?”

Tossing her phone out of sight somewhere on the couch behind her, Penelope smiles. 

“Your funeral, Bridgerton.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 9

“What are you watching?”

Penelope’s eyes dart from the TV to Colin, then back to the TV. On the screen, Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal are walking through Central Park on an orange Autumn day. 

“You don’t know what movie this is?”

Plopping down on the cushion next to hers, Colin shrugs and shakes his head. Penelope can instantly tell that he isn’t being facetious, but after growing up with four sisters, she can hardly believe he can’t name this movie. (Though she may claim otherwise, even Eloise enjoys the occasional romcom.) 

“You really don’t know When Harry Met Sally?” 

Colin shrugs again, an eager smirk now rising on his lips. 

“Should I?”

After pausing the moving, Penelope turns to give Colin her full attention. She’s about to say “Yes,” and inform him of just how ridiculous it is that he’s never seen it before. But at the last second, she hesitates. 

“I don’t know.”

“You ‘don’t know?’” he echoes, clearly baffled by her sudden lack of conviction. 

“Well, I love this movie, but I can’t claim to be unbiased. I grew up watching it. If I were to watch it for the first time now… I don’t know. I think I might find the premise a bit…” 

She quickly glances away from Colin and towards the ceiling, searching her brain for the right word. 

“Outdated.”

“Outdated?”

“Yes. And perhaps a bit… sexist.” 

“Good god,” Colin laughs. “What exactly is this amazing, outdated, sexist about?”

Penelope's lips remain sealed tightly shut for a moment, simultaneously fighting off a nervous laugh and a deep red blush. 

“Well…” she finally manages to get out. “Perhaps ‘sexist’ isn’t the right word. It’s about two people — Harry and Sally — who meet and eventually become friends and eventually fall in love. And it’s a great movie — really. But the film revolves around this idea that men and women can’t be friends. Which is,” she gulps, “obviously not true.”

“Why can’t women and men be friends?” 

“Well, obviously they —”

“According to the movie, I meant.” 

Her lips stitch shut again. She simply cannot bring herself to voice aloud the movie’s thesis statement — that sexual attraction will always get in the way. Even if that statement is outdated, sexist, and objectively not true for the average opposite sex friendship… 

It’s not exactly irrelevant in this friendship. 

“Instead of having me explain the plot summary to you for the next 90 minutes, why don’t we just watch it? You know — so you can form your own opinion on the matter.”

“I happen to like it when you explain the movie to me. But fine.” He sighs with great, dramatic force. “Let’s watch it.”

Exactly ninety-five minutes later, Colin agrees that while it may be a fantastic movie, the premise is bullshit. 

“I mean — if you and Benedict weren’t such good friends, you might not have had a bed to sleep in this past week.” 

“Yeah.” Penelope forces out a quick laugh. “I don’t know where I would be without my best friend, Benedict Bridgerton.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 10

Despite sharing this flat with Benedict for over two years, due to their respective chaotic schedules, Colin hasn’t actually spent much time living here with another human being. That’s why he didn’t realise just how thin his walls are until about ten days ago. 

Now, ten days into Penelope’s extended stay here, Colin has developed an automatic response to the sound of her phone ringing. Unfortunately, he can’t always find his headphones quick enough to avoid accidentally eavesdropping on those conversations. Like when his sister rang.

“God, El. Stop being so dramatic. I swear I am here on my own free will.” 

…

“Well, I’m sure his hygiene has improved since you last lived with him.”

Or Penelope’s editor.

“She licked a toilet seat? Well, that’s um — That’s certainly interesting. But I struggle to see how we can frame that as an actual piece of news.”

Or her mum.

“It’s fine. No, I —” 

… 

“It’s only temporary, mum. I’ll come home soon. Once it’s safe.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 12

Twelve days into lockdown, meals have taken on new meaning for Penelope — a way to mark the passage of time. 

Time itself has lost nearly all meaning. Seconds last for an eternity. Hours pass by like nothing. Days bleed into one another with no substantive markers. Fridays feel like Tuesdays. Everyday feels like Tuesday, actually. 

Meals are now the only markers of time that feel real to Penelope. But as the food in Colin’s fridge and pantry starts to dwindle, the separation between breakfast, lunch, and dinner are becoming blurred. 

Tonight, they’re eating eggs, baked beans, and a single microwavable pizza for dinner. 

“You know…” Colin mumbles, chewing incessantly on his crust (which in Penelope’s opinion, has a texture similar to that of her leather purse). “In two days, we can venture back into the land of the living and get some proper food.” 

Penelope mumbles something in agreement, pushing around the beans on her plate with the prongs of her fork. Her mind is wandering elsewhere. 

Do you want to be a burden, Penelope?

“Pen?” 

“Hmm?” Her head whips up suddenly, eyes finally meeting Colin’s after several minutes of focusing downward. 

“Is something wrong?”

Yes.

“No.”

Colin isn’t buying her bullshit. She can see it in the look he throws her now. 

“I’m just —” She sighs, mulling over her own words. “Just thinking about what’s going to happen in two days, when our quarantine period is up.” 

“Oh,” Colin says, shoulders visibly relaxing. “Well, Benedict isn’t coming back to the city anytime soon. And Lord knows my trip to Kyoto isn’t happening anytime soon. You can stay here as long as you like.” 

Penelope opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. There was a weight on her chest before. It’s lighter now, but still overwhelming. 

Filling the interim silence between them, Colin leans back in his chair and chuckles softly. 

“I mean, you can go back to Hyde Park and kill the endless expanse of time sitting around doing nothing with your roommate. But wouldn’t you rather sit around here and do nothing with your best friend?” 

Not ready to address the main bit, Penelope smiles, crinkles her nose, and says, “Don’t let Eloise hear you claiming yourself as my best friend. I don’t need another Bridgerton bloodbath on my hands.”

He barks out a laugh. 

“We can speak freely here. She doesn’t have my flat bugged.”

“That you know of.”

“Regardless… Can you really deny my claim?”

His words are delivered casually enough, but they don’t feel that way to Penelope. Not after spending so much of her life struggling to attach those two words to Colin in her mind and in her heart. Even if she probably should. 

Best friend. There’s nothing that comes after that. 

Penelope scoops a fork-full of beans into her mouth.

“I would… If I didn’t know any better. You two are so competitive. And you both seem to be under the incorrect assumption that a person can only have one best friend.”

Still chewing on that pizza crust, Colin’s eyes suddenly narrow. 

“You call Eloise your best friend all the time,” he says simply. He doesn’t sound quite as casual as he had a moment ago. His voice is edged with annoyance. 

Penelope scoops up another fork-full of beans. She’s stalling for time, trying to think of a better excuse than, “It’s easier to call someone your best friend when you’re not also madly in love with them.” In the end, she lands on… 

“You know how annoying you get about this subject? Eloise would be a thousand times more annoying if the roles were reversed.”

He shrugs at that, because while it may be a dirty excuse, it’s also 100% true. 

“Regardless… The world isn’t going back to normal in two days. If you have to be stuck somewhere, selfishly, I hope it’s in this flat.” 

Penelope’s eyes turn away from him again — towards the clock on the stovetop that means so little to her these days. She can feel the blush rising in her cheeks. She can feel it in her chest and in her heart. It’s hard to really accept his words, though, as her mother’s voice still echoes through her mind. 

Do you want to be a burden, Penelope? 

No. Of course she doesn’t. 

“I don’t want to impose,” she tells him, her eyeline unable to raise any higher than the stubble on his chin. 

“You wouldn’t be.” 

He sounds less humorous, less charming than he had just a moment ago. His voice is serious, which — despite the very serious events unfolding in the world lately — is a rare occurrence these days. 

“You could never. Not with me.” 

Just like that, the subject is dropped. Neither one of them picks it up again when the official 14-day quarantine endpoint comes and goes. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 17

After getting off a nearly hour-long phone call with Benedict (an ultimately fruitless endeavour to obtain the details of his brother’s extended stay in Southampton), Colin exits his bedroom with the intention to join Penelope on the big blue couch. 

She doesn’t notice him walk into the room. She’s faced away from him, back against the armrest, headphones blasting music loud enough for him to hear it from his doorway. Her laptop is resting precariously on her knees, her fingers rampantly dancing across her keyboard. She barely looks up when he plops himself on the cushion next to hers. 

“Hey,” she says half-heartedly, pulling one earbud out. 

“What are you working on?” 

“Work.” Just as quickly as the word leaves her mouth, she shuts her laptop. 

“Did you ever decide on a narrative for your Notre Dame article?” 

“Oh. God no.” She laughs lightly, scrunching her nose. “That article was shelved the second that the pandemic was declared.”

“That’s a shame.”

“I guess.” She shrugs. “But there are more important things for people to read about these days than reconstruction efforts on some old church.” 

Colin scoffs. Literally.

“Did you just refer to the Cathedral of Notre Dame as ‘some old church?’” 

“You know what I mean. Public concern has shifted over the last few weeks. That story isn’t exactly relevant anymore. Plus, I never even got to see the restoration efforts firsthand.”

“Okay…” Colin shuffles in his seat, raking a hand through his hair as he considers her words. “Even if it isn’t ‘relevant’ right now — what about when this is all over? That ‘old church’ survived over 800 years before this for a reason. People will always care about Notre Dame. There will always be a story to tell there.” 

Penelope shrugs again. She’s wearing his green cable knit sweater, arms crossed in front of her with just the tips of her fingers peeking out of the sleeves. She’s tucked into the corner of the big blue couch, looking like she’s about to disappear into it. 

“Maybe one day. But right now, it’s hard to imagine everything going back to normal.” 

Colin considers her words for a few seconds. 

“Well, maybe not everything will go back to how it once was, but the important things will. The things meant to last will last, even through fires and viruses and other disasters.”

 From her spot in the corner, Penelope’s eyes narrow. “When did you get so wise?” she asks, only half sarcastically. 

“Always have been,” he gloats, a smile overpowering his lips. “Took you long enough to notice.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 19

After several minutes (possibly hours) staring at a blank screen, Penelope shuts her laptop with a huff. She blinks several times, practically feeling the blue light still stinging her eyeballs. She scrunches her eyes shut completely, needing at least a few seconds of calming darkness. 

For as long as she can remember, writing has offered Penelope an escape. Writing a story — gripping a pen in her hands and deciding what came next — offered her a sense of control in times when she felt no such thing in her real life. That control is an addiction of sorts — one most would be wise not to stake their careers around. Thankfully, Penelope’s career has yet to take away her passion for it. 

She loves being a writer, but it’s hard on days like today when the words just don’t come. When both the escape and the control slip away from you, and the only thing you can blame for that loss is your own brain. 

At least she has a different distraction readily available to her these days. 

When she opens her eyes, she finds that Colin is still staring at his laptop screen on the other side of the couch. He isn’t doing much typing, though, so she doesn’t feel too bad about interrupting him.

“Hey.” 

She nudges his bare shin with her sock-clad foot. He smiles softly as he pulls his headphones out and meets her gaze. 

“Are you busy with something?”

“Too busy for you? Never.”

With that, he shuts his laptop and practically throws it onto the coffee table next to hers. 

“God,” Penelope mutters under her breath, almost caught off guard by his charming ways after all these years. 

“Nothing. Just… bored.” 

Colin’s smile turns to a flat out smirk. 

“And you want me to do something about that?” 

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, fighting off a blush. “Can you tell me a travel story? One I haven’t heard before?” 

Humming, Colin looks up to the ceiling, seemingly racking his brain to find such a thing. Then, he looks to the window. Then, to the coffee table. Then, finally, back to her. 

“I don’t know if there are any, Pen. I think you’ve heard all of my stories already.” 

“What about Prague? Anything you left out of your emails?” 

“No,” he says softly, eyes still darting back and forth, searching for some memory to dig up. “On my way to the airport, my Uber got rear ended.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Penelope breaks into a fit of giggles. “I was on the phone with you when it happened. I could hear them arguing in Czech in the background.” 

Colin begins to chuckle. 

“Oh, right.” 

“Okay… So if I already know everything about your old trips, maybe you can tell me about your future endeavours. Any plans for when the end of the world ends?” 

Penelope expects Colin to continue chuckling. She expects him to say something like “Greece” or “Kyoto.” But he doesn’t. 

He frowns. 

“I don’t know, honestly.” He looks away from her for a few seconds, towards the window. “I don’t see myself travelling for a while.” 

Penelope nods sympathetically, suddenly annoyed with herself for asking such a silly question. 

“That makes sense,” she says, voice tentative. “They said this would be all over in two weeks, but —”

“No, not because of COVID. I’ve actually been ready to pause my travels for a while.”

He says those words so casually. A few seconds pass before they fully register in Penelope’s brain. When they do, it feels as though all of the air has been sucked from her lungs. 

“What?” is all she can manage to get out in her current breathless condition. Colin, for his part, remains casual. 

“Japan was the last trip I had planned, and that certainly isn’t happening anymore, so…”

They sit in silence for a moment. Penelope waits for him to expand. Colin waits for her to ask him to. In the end, it’s she who loses the game of chicken. 

“Why didn’t you plan anything past Japan?” 

If she recalls correctly, he was supposed to remain in the country for approximately three months. She’s seen his calendar; he usually plans out his calendar a year in advance. 

“Well, that trip was meant to end in June, which also happens to be the five-year mark for my travels abroad.” He shrugs innocently. “Five years seems like a good marker for change. I was thinking about maybe taking a year off travelling.” 

“A year?” Penelope mutters dumbly, not really meaning to. The notion seems impossible to her. Between Eton, Cambridge, and his travels…

Colin hasn’t lived an entire year in London in over a decade. Not since he was sixteen and she was fourteen. Not since they were two completely different people. 

“Yeah. I love travelling, but it’s also fucking exhausting. Especially at the rate I’ve been doing it the past five years. I…” He takes a breath. “I just need to stay put for a while. I’m sick of spending more time away from home than in it.” 

When he goes quiet, Penelope nearly jumps at the chance to fill the air between them with her words. But something in Colin’s eye tells her that he’s not quite finished. That he has something else that he desperately wants to say. 

“I don’t want my life to continue running parallel to the lives here at home.” 

“Oh, Colin,” she says, her miserable words spilling from her mouth before she can stop them. Her mind is elsewhere, recalling something she said a lifetime ago on a night in December. 

Those people who made up your entire world when you were younger are still there, but their lives aren’t intertwined with yours like they used to be. It’s more like they’re running parallel.

“I —” she starts, but Colin interrupts. His face looks lighter than it had a moment ago. 

“Don’t be too sad about my indefinite return home for longer than usual, Pen. This —”

“I’m not! I —”

“— was always going to happen. A man can’t travel forever.”

“I — I know,” she sputters out. “But the — the parallel lines thing… You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself about not living in London full time. I mean — look at your family! Eloise and Francesca are both in Scotland now. Daphne practically lives in Hastings year round. Benedict spends even less time in this flat than y—”

“I know, Pen.” 

Before she can say another word, Colin moves from the edge of the couch to the cushion right next to hers. She remains wedged in her corner as he raises his hand and gives her shoulder a gentle, familiar squeeze. 

“It’s not like I’m never going to travel again. I just can’t keep up with the constant state of being away. I wouldn’t want to, even if I could. I want to be here. I don’t want to miss another holiday or be that uncle that Auggie and Blair only see one a year. I —”

His words stop impossibly short. He gives Penelope a long, wavering look before continuing.

“Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone before?”

It takes her a moment to find her voice. Eventually, she says something that sort of sounds like, “Of course.”

He sits in the silence an extra moment, as if still debating whether or not he wants to actually share his secret aloud. It’s an unnerving site for Penelope to behold on Colin’s face, of all things. But as a lifelong expert in bullshit… 

She understands. 

“My dad died almost eighteen years ago. Which is really fucking weird to think about at twenty-seven, knowing that I’ve spent more than two-thirds of my life without him there. But even knowing that…”

He takes a breath.

“At every major life event — every wedding or birthday or whatever — I just keep waiting for my dad to walk through the door and join the rest of us. Like he’s supposed to.”

 His lips part to let out something that sort of sounds like a laugh. 

“Is that strange?”

Although she feels at a complete loss for words, Penelope pushes herself to say anything aloud. To sit in this silence would be too painful. 

“No. Of course not.”

“I just — I don’t want anyone to feel that way about me. Not while I’m alive, at least.” 

Penelope literally gasps. She can’t stop herself.

“Colin —”

“Sorry.” He chuckles. “That was dramatic.” 

“No, I — That’s not —” 

Penelope shakes her head slightly, trying desperately to make sense of everything Colin told her in the last few minutes. To find the proper words to respond to them with.

“If you want to make this change for yourself, then you should do that. You should do whatever it is that makes you happy. But if it’s just for your family, or for —”

“It’s for me, Pen,” he interrupts. “Trust me. I — I’m tired of feeling homesick.” 

Penelope begins to nod. She tries to muster up a smile. She uses these brief seconds of quiet to mull over his words again. To actually envision a reality where Colin isn’t away from her most of the year. She tries not to get too excited. She tries not to get too overwhelmed. 

“What do you think you’ll do with all the time you usually spend travelling?”

“Ideally, I would like to get started on a book.”

Penelope smiles at this. Colin laughs. 

“Sounds strange to say that out loud.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Colin.” 

“Yeah?” he teases, his smirk suddenly making a reappearance. “You don’t think my plans are a bit mad?”

“A bit.” She laughs softly. “But that’s the best type.”

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 21

Out of the corner of her eye, Penelope sees her mum’s name and picture pop up on her phone. She turns the screen over — out sight, but not out of mind — by the second buzz. Turning her attention back to the TV screen ahead, she sighs.

Before Sunrise was probably not the wisest choice of movies to watch with Colin tonight. But she had never seen it before and the plot sounded intriguing, so she was willing to put herself in the uncomfortable position of watching a romantic movie with her platonic friend. (After all, they made it through When Harry Met Sally last week relatively unscathed.) She had not expected it to be this romantic, though.

When her phone starts buzzing again, Penelope clears her throat. 

“Have you ever done anything like this?” 

“What?”

She nods her head towards the screen ahead. Towards the two young lovers sitting on the steps of a statue in Vienna. 

“You know… Met a stranger on a train and ran off to explore a city together.” 

Colin reaches forward to grab the remote control and pause the movie. When he turns to look at her, his expression is made up of disbelief.

“No,” he says, with the same tone someone would use after being asked if they’ve ever sprouted wings and flown to the moon. 

“This —” He points a finger towards the screen. “— only happens in movies. If I asked a woman on her way to Paris to get off with me in Vienna, she’d have me thrown off the train.”

“My question was not that ridiculous,” Penelope contends. “You spend more time on trains than anyone else I know. You’re certainly better at making friends out of strangers than anyone else. I think this —” She shoots her index finger towards the screen. “— is the exact type of situation you would find yourself in.” 

Colin shakes his head, then settles his gaze on the TV again.

“Those sorts of ‘friends’ don’t compare to the real kind. From my experience, you need to know a person a long time before you can stay up until sunrise talking about nothing together.”

Before Penelope can say anything else, Colin hits play. She doesn’t speak again for another seven minutes. Not until the lovers part and a gentle melody fills the room. 

“What was Vienna like? In real life, I mean.” 

“Beautiful,” he answers, after some thought. “Also very cold, but I suppose that was my fault for visiting it in December.” 

“You think?” she teases.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, wiping his brow with the palm of his hand in boyish fashion. “I think I’d like to go back one day, in a warmer climate.” A beat passes before he tells her, “I think you would like Vienna.” 

Penelope feels a sudden rush of longing in the core of her chest. An image of the Eiffel Tower sparkling at midnight flashes before her. 

“I think I’d like to go anywhere,” she says, sounding more glum than she had intended. It isn’t until the words leave her mouth that Penelope realises just how badly her words could be taken by Colin.

“Not that I’m not enjoying —”

“Come on,” he interrupts, standing up from the couch with his hand extended towards her. Penelope can only stare at his fingers for a moment. 

“What — what are you doing?”

“Come on,” he says again. This time, he doesn’t wait for her to listen or react to his words. He takes her hand into his own and pulls her to a standing position. “Let’s act like we’re in Vienna. Or Paris. Or — wherever, as long as it’s not this little flat in London.” 

“I —” 

Somewhere in the background, movie credits start to roll and a more upbeat song starts to play. 

“Come on,” he says a final time, pulling her around the coffee table so they stand together in the middle of his rug. 

They’ve danced together a few times before. It’s far from a common occurrence, and yet, they’ve picked up a sort-of routine over the years. Unlike most dance routines, there are no specific steps or choreography for them to follow — it’s the speed and distance that’s become so familiar over the years. 

It starts fast — two pairs of feet finding their footing to a song they’ve never heard before. It starts disconnected — their bodies joined only by their intertwined fingers. But then Colin drops one hand and spins her around with the other, and the routine shifts. 

It’s slower now — two bodies swaying together to the beat of the music. It’s less disconnected too — her chest is pressed to his abdomen, one of his arms is snaked around her back. It’s different than it used to be, when they were teenagers and this felt more like a clusterfuck than a routine to Penelope. It’s easier now. More comfortable. 

It’s still silly, but that doesn’t bother her like it used to. 

After several moments staring into his chest, Penelope looks up. Colin was already looking down, but he quickly shifts his gaze to the side, towards the TV. 

After clearing his throat, he asks if she liked the movie. 

Penelope nods. 

“Yes. You were right — it’s a bit of a fantasy. But I like fantasies.” 

When Colin looks back to her, he has the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. 

“I liked Harry and Sally better,” he admits. “I’m not a big fan of ambiguous endings. It feels like a cop-out, leaving us wondering what happens next.”

Penelope furrows her brow, considering his words. 

“I think there are times when ambiguous endings are fitting. But perhaps you should watch the next movie before you make up your mind on this story.” 

“There’s a sequel?!”

Penelope cannot help but giggle. 

“It’s a trilogy. Did you really not know —” 

“Shh… No spoilers. I want to be surprised.” 

Caught off guard by another round of giggles, Penelope unintentionally leans forward, even further into Colin’s chest. Her next words are nearly muffled by the cloth of his jumper. 

“The last movie is when the zombies finally make an appearance.”

“Pen!” 

They dance for another minute or two. As the music fades to nothing, Penelope swears she can hear phantom sounds of a phone buzzing. She does her best to ignore them, though, breathing in Colin’s scent one last time before letting go. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 24

Three weeks into sharing a flat with Penelope, Colin has become quite familiar with “the usual bout of insomnia.” Which, while troubling for several reasons, does have its perks. 

Like all the late night tea breaks they’ve shared over the last three weeks. 

When Colin hears the faint sounds of footsteps outside his door at 12:21 AM, he smiles. He pulls himself out of bed. He throws on his nearest shirt. He follows those footsteps down the hall. 

Penelope must have heard him coming. There are two mugs sitting on the counter when he walks into the kitchen. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, leaning against the sink. 

“Nope.” 

She isn’t quite looking at him. She’s staring at the kettle like she’s willing it to whine. 

“Something on your mind?” 

She shrugs at that. She turns to look at him for a split second. She offers him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, as if that tiny gesture will ward off the question he’s about to ask her. 

(It doesn’t.)

“Pen, are you o—”

“I’m fine,” she answers prematurely. “Just the usual bout of insomnia.” 

Suddenly, Colin finds himself at a loss for words. Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep he’s accumulated over the last three weeks. Perhaps it’s due to him ignoring so many of his other (more physical) instincts during that time. Perhaps it’s for some reason that Colin can’t pull out of the darkness right now… But he suddenly finds himself at a loss for how to act around Penelope. 

He knows she’s lying to him. He knows there is something not fine going on with her. But Colin doesn’t know if he should push her on her secret or let it be. 

While he stands there silently flailing, the kettle finally begins to whine. When Penelope hands him his mug, she’s standing taller than she was a moment ago. She’s looking him in the eye again. 

“Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone before?” she asks, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Though Colin still feels rather speechless, he somehow manages to mumble out an “Of course.” 

Before she speaks again, a complicated look passes on Penelope’s face. It’s hard for him to read, with her face lit by nothing more than the tiny bulb on his stove, but it looks apprehensive — like she’s suddenly unsure of the secret she is about to confess. 

“It’s just — It’s a family secret.” She laughs a little. “One I’ve never actually discussed with my family before, but…”

The mention of her family instantly raises alarm bells in Colin’s mind. In all their years of friendship, he has never known “family” to be a particularly happy subject for Penelope. But the last thing he wants to do is dissuade her from confessing what is so clearly weighing on her mind, so he tries to keep his face neutral. 

“Your secrets are safe with me, Pen. Always.” 

After one last moment of contemplation…

“My father didn’t actually die of a heart attack.” 

What the fuck?

“Pen —”

“I mean — technically speaking, I suppose he did die of cardiac arrest. But I don’t think it’s exactly true to say someone ‘died of a heart attack’ when they also happened to have a few grams of cocaine in their system when they dropped dead.”

There are a million words currently running through Colin’s head — none of which he can string together into an appropriate response to the bombshell Penelope just handed him. But every millisecond that passes without response kills him. As his mouth hangs open, her eyes grow wider, and the silence between them gets louder, Colin feels it critical to say something. Anything. Anything but this silence. 

“Did you say you’ve never discussed this with your family before?” might not have been the best thing to say… But it certainly was something.

Penelope shakes her head. 

“On the morning that he died, mum told us it was a heart attack. And now that I think about it, no one’s really brought it up again in the last six years. But, um, right after he died, I overheard her whispering about it with Varley. After the funeral, I snuck into his study and found the autopsy report. And um…” 

“Pen, that’s —”

“Bad. I know.” She laughs again, an awful sound. One that does not help the nausea currently building in Colin’s gut. “Saying it out loud, it sounds…” 

She laughs. Again. 

“Crazy.”

“It’s not crazy,” Colin says quickly. “It’s just — I don’t think that’s the sort of thing you should keep to yourself for six years. I —”

“I know,” she interjects, sounding more tired than anything else. “I think I stored it away in some hidden part of my brain for most of that time, though. It was surprisingly easy to ignore. For a while, at least.” 

Colin still doesn’t quite know what the right thing to say is. But he says, “I’m glad you told me,” anyway.   

They move to the big blue couch down the hall after that, sipping tea and talking about everything and nothing well into the hour of 2 AM. When he notices Penelope yawning for the third time in two minutes, he regrettably decides to wrap things up. 

“Anything else you want to get off your chest? One member of the Dead Dads Club to another?”

“No.” She laughs for the final time that night. It’s so soft that it’s nearly inaudible, but at least it’s real. “You’ve done more than enough listening for one night. Thank you, Colin.” 

He wants to tell her not to thank him for such a thing. He wants to tell her he would forgo sleep forever, if it meant he could stay awake listening to the sound of her voice. He wants to say so much, but before he can utter a single word, Penelope hugs him. It’s all shoulders and hands. It’s over too quick. 

Without another word, Penelope disappears into Benedict’s bedroom. She shuts the door behind her. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 25

The last two days had been good. 

Colin spent much of those two days waiting for Penelope’s good mood to shift suddenly. For her to frown at her phone or innocently ask if she can tell him a secret, only to reveal one of the most devastating pieces of information he has ever heard in his life just a moment later. But no. 

The last two days had been good. 

Colin made sourdough bread from scratch. Penelope won Scrabble twice. She also succeeded in uncovering the name of Benedict’s new friend in Southampton (Sophie). They watched Before Sunset. They watched When Harry Met Sally again, after Colin declared that he did, in fact, like that movie better. 

The last two days had been good. So good, that Colin has finally stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. So good, that he doesn’t anticipate the utter gut punch he receives from Penelope now, at approximately 11:52 PM, when she utters eleven words into her mug.

“I’m going home, to my mum’s place, for a few days.”

For longer than he realises, Colin stands silent, tea already growing cold in the mug in his hand. Her words come back to him bit by bit. 

Home.

Mum’s place.

A few days.

 It’s April 5th — for the next few minutes, at least. In a few days…

“Your birthday,” Colin says dumbly, as if those three syllables provide a sensical response to what Penelope just said. Thankfully, she seems to catch his meaning. 

“Yeah.” She shrugs, then forces a half-hearted smile onto her lips. “Mum and I will watch a movie or something. There will almost certainly be red wine involved. It might actually be… fun.” 

Though her words reek of positivity, the look on Penelope’s face tells Colin that she posses about as much faith in that last word as he does. 

(None.) 

“We were gonna do that Zoom thing with my family.” 

“I know,” Penelope mutters, a mix of guilt and regret flashing on her face. “We can still do that, just…”

“Just with me as one of the little faces on your screen?” 

An inaudible, tragic gasp escapes her lips. 

“Col—”

Belatedly hearing how needy he sounds, Colin takes a breath and rethinks his strategy. 

“Sorry,” he interrupts. “I just — I know that you haven’t stayed at home in forever and I…” He takes another breath. “I don’t want you to have to go there, if you don’t want to.”

Lit by barely any light at all, Penelope’s eyes change as she keeps her gaze set on Colin. She looks sad. Almost angry. When she finally speaks, her voice is bizarrely calm. 

“Philipa’s in Kent with the baby. Prudence ran off with her boyfriend in Bristol. No one else is here and…” 

She takes a breath, one that threatens to break Colin’s resolve and bridge the one metre gap between them. It’s over before he can lift his left foot, though. 

“I don’t want my mum to have to be alone right now. The past few weeks here have been… perfect. And I really can’t thank you enough for convincing me to stay here in the first place. But I think it’s time for me to go home.” 

Penelope goes quiet, patiently looking up at him, waiting for him to say something. Anything. But he can’t. There’s one word echoing in his mind too loudly for him to conjure up anything even remotely sensical.

Home. 

For Colin’s entire life, “home” meant a lot of things. The house on Grosvenor Street. Aubrey Hall. His parents. His siblings. The light at the end of a long journey.

“Home” meant a lot of things to Colin over the years, but the word has always been inextricably linked to happiness. After growing up together, after witnessing her avoid Grosvenor Street like the plague since she left for Cheltenham, after hearing her voice crack on that last word…

It kills him, but Colin knows “happiness” is not something Penelope has ever associated with “home.”

Penelope opens her mouth to say something. Anything. Anything to just break the silence. But Colin beats her to it. 

“Please, don’t thank me for stealing you away from the rest of the world the last few weeks. Whatever you do next…” 

He takes a breath. 

“You deserve to be where you’re happy. If that means going back to your flat in Hyde Park, staying here, staying with your mum, stealing my car and driving to Scotland to see El…”

Another breath.

“Whatever it is, I just want you to —”

“This is what I want, Colin,” she promises. “With everything that’s going on right now, I just keep thinking about my father and…” 

When her voice trails off, Penelope seems to notice the mug in her hand for the first time in several minutes. She takes a sip before continuing. 

“I know it’s a bloody awful thing to say out loud, but I keep thinking about what would happen if my mum dropped dead tomorrow. I think it would kill me to know that I never even tried to make things better between us.”

Colin desperately wants to ask her if Portia Featherington is really someone worth trying for, knowing all the pain she has inflicted upon her youngest daughter over the last twenty-five years. But in the end, he holds his tongue on the matter. He doesn’t know what he can say to make anything better. 

“So, uh… When would you be leaving?” 

Penelope shrugs, lifting her mug to her lips again. “The morning after next, I think.”

Colin looks down at the mug currently gripped in his left hand, not wanting to look straight ahead anymore. When he raises it to his lips and takes the first sip, the tea is just barely holding onto its warmth. 

“Right,” he says, eyes still cast downward. 

She excuses herself to find some sleep shortly after. It isn’t until Colin watches her walk out of the kitchen and into the darkened hallway that it really hits him. That, not 36 hours from now, Penelope will leave his flat. That he has no idea when she’ll be back. 

He can feel that revelation sinking in, upending his nerves and wrenching his heart. If the last 25 days have taught him anything, it’s this. Penelope is home to him, and that he’s fucking tired of feeling homesick. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 27

When Colin’s eyes first open Tuesday morning, his bedroom is still shrouded in darkness. He supposes it could still be the middle of the night, but when he turns on his side and catches those red, taunting lights, they inform him that the day is about to begin.

6:16 AM.

Groaning, Colin exits his sheets. He throws on the closest set of clothes (grey sweatpants and a burgundy Cambridge sweatshirt). He exits his bedroom with the intention of running straight to the fridge. But as soon as he swings open the door, his sluggish footsteps stop short. 

Penelope’s sitting on the couch with her back turned to him. She’s looking out the window in wait for the sunrise — waiting for the grey London skyline to bleed into a slightly lighter shade of grey. After a few seconds of him silently standing in his doorway, she turns her head to look at him.

She smiles. 

“Good morning.” 

“Morning,” he echos, stepping over to where she sits on the big blue couch. He plops down on the cushion next to hers. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

They sit in silence for a little while, twiddling their thumbs and flicking their eyes between the window and each other. When the room settles into the brightness of daylight, Colin turns his full attention on Penelope. 

He has resisted many instincts over the last twenty-seven days. This morning — Penelope’s last morning here — he doesn’t even consider resisting his instinct to pull her in close. His arms wrap around her back and her chin settles on his shoulder.  

Unprompted, he whispers “We’re gonna be okay” into her hair, which smells of honey. He hadn’t intended for those words to come out as a question, but he can’t help but hear them as such once committed to air. 

Whether it's an answer or a concurrence, Penelope immediately nods into his shoulder. 

“If you want to come back, Pen… The door is always open.”

“I know,” she mumbles into his sweatshirt.

Forty-seven minutes later, Colin watches Penelope walk out of his flat, leaving him alone for the first time in weeks. Leaving him with a sinking feeling that nothing will ever change between them. 

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

From the other end of the rug, Colin shoots Penelope an all too familiar look. His chin is tilted downward. His eyes are squinting slightly. The edges of a smirk are creeping up his lips. 

He’s priming her, about to smooth talk his way into getting exactly what he wants. He’s expecting another battle. Another argument. A debate. 

He’s wrong, of course. At this current moment in time, Penelope wants nothing less than to discuss the merits of another technicality. 

“It —”

“Yes, fine. It counts,” she interrupts, hoping her words don’t deceive her interests too transparently.

“Really?” Colin asks, face breaking out into a full on grin. 

“Yes. I mean, when a couple actually moves in together, at least they have the option to leave during the day to get away from each other. We were stuck in an 800 square foot box together for nearly a month straight — that has to count for something.”

“I like the way you think, Featherington.” 

With that, Colin picks up his phone again.

#it is currently 5:05 am #its official #this fic has driven me to the point of insanity 😛 #fanfiction #bridgerton #polin #weepingfromacedartree #fanfic #ao3 #ten milestones #penelope x colin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton

[invested-in-your-future]

How would you do the Schneeblings drama? Would you have them reconcile in the end?

It's sure is interesting how many sibling dynamics the story has set-up isn't it? Ruby and Yang, Schnee family, Qrow and Raven. Sure makes one wonder why they felt the need to add literal sibling gods to it too when they haven't really done anything with all the other siblings in the show.

In my opinion, each of sibling dynamics at play should be completely different. Yang and Ruby have become inseparable, having bonded since childhood, but there's lingering air of uncertainty and issues between them that has made that bond fall apart like a house of cards after V3 and each of them is trying to make sense of their life and how they could rebuild it. Meanwhile Qrow and Raven couldn't be more different from each other, have wildly different worldviews and always have butted heads with each other, but in my idea, in spite of that, both still value each other over their disagreements, creating a contradictory kind of relationship.

Schnee stuff should be something different from both. For me, all of Schnee family members have a very different idea of "what being a Schnee means" each. And all of those ideas are, in a lot of ways, irreconcilable with each other.

I don't quite think the way the show does it can work. It doesn't really work in-show either. Because the show does nothing with the actual toxicity and abuse in the family, as well as the main instigator - Jacques. Unless the whole ball of toxic nonsense and hurt unravels, no conclusion can be reached.

I think, even at the start of the story, Schnees are way beyond any hope for "and it all worked out in the end" kind of deal. The environment the family grew up in, the kinds of interactions they take as the "default normal" - it's all a complicated mess. The only question is - when the whole thing implodes, which people there can actually recover, grow and lead somewhat healthy lives.

Schnees are the microcosm version of the macrocosm that is Atlas - the family dynamics at play are emblematic of bigger social issues and dynamics within the Kingdom itself.

Schnee story arc for me is all about exploring what makes the whole family tick, the roots of it all, how the family came to be, how Jacques has shaped their current circumstances and how his behavior and presence impacted each of the children. What happens when the carefully guarded illusion of normalcy within that family would be shaken up? How would different family members react to it? What decisions each family member would end up making?

So, at least for me, it's less about some internal squabbles between the children and more about where each of the children would end up when/if push comes to shove?

#rwby #rwde #weiss schnee

[drdemonprince]

anautisticguide on TikTok responded to your PDA analysis, they make a lot of PDA autism content. Was wondering if you could elaborate more on their response and your points because I think this is a rly interesting topic.

To me, it's essentially the same not-actually-a-debate that rises up when somebody points out that how ADHD is both defined and experienced has a social and economic component and is not just a chemical imbalance (and in fact, there is no evidence of the dopamine theory for it).

People sometimes get very attached to an understanding of disability that is rooted in biology, because they believe that is the only explanation that grants them permission to not function up to society's punishing, impossible standards. When in reality, the fact of the matter is that neurotypicality's punishing standards are not attainable to anyone, and so nobody should feel defective or broken for failing to meet up to them.

People feel relief upon first learning that they're not "just" lazy, they have a disability -- but if their analysis of the problem stops there, they aren't going far enough. Nobody else is "just" lazy either.

People also like to say that they know that their disability is biological and not socially constructed, because they know that even in a world beyond capitalism that they would struggle to enjoy tasks that they value, for instance, or that they'd still always struggle socially. It's not logical for someone to claim that they know what a completely alternate version of themselves living in a different reality with different life experiences would be like. That would not be the same person.

There is no control group for any of our lives. We all only exist once, under the exact circumstances that have led up to this moment. So none of us can claim to know what a version of ourselves would be like in a world without capitalism or the trauma it causes. This kind of argument also comes up with truscum trans people -- who claim they are certain their dysphoria is entirely biological and that they would still have it in a world without assigned gender.

That is impossible to know. And it's a pointless thought exercise anyway. Trans people deserve accommodation whether their dysphoria is socially caused or biologically caused.

People who struggle to work or attain stability in life deserve accommodation whether they're in that position because of capitalism or because of a neurological difference. And in fact it's impossible to separate those two causes. Ableism is a tool of capitalism, because capitalism is a system of defining a person's humanity by their productive capacity, in other words by their abilities. So it's nonsense to try and separate the two and to say that something like PDA is not socially constructed -- by definition it is on every level.

And none of that invalidates the suffering and struggle of people who have been labeled as PDA or identify as having PDA. If the label has brought you or anyone reading this peace and relief, I'm glad you have found an outlet for questioning the unfair expectations put upon you.

But please, for the sake of yourself and for this movement, do not stop at just thinking that the problem is located within you. It is not. How you are is not wrong or bad or pathological. Needing support, structure, hope that your life is worth putting energy into, love, engagement, stimulation, and enthusiastic consent in order to take action is not a defect. You deserve better than thinking your need for autonomy is a pathology. You can be freer than that.

[booksandwitchery]

A Debate Surrounding Secular Witchcraft

As I've been reading Psychic Witch: A Metaphysical Guide to Meditation, Magick & Manifestation by Mat Auryn, I've been thinking more and more that there is somewhat of a disagreement between secular witchcraft and atheistic/naturalistic paganism. I'd like to discuss it here--maybe hear some thoughts on the matter.

As the title indicates, Auryn's book focuses mainly on manifestation and meditation-based strategies within spell work. He believes that "Magick and psychic ability aren't supernatural, but rather completely natural and absolutely possible for every single human being to engage in." For me, the disconnect arises when Auryn writes that although he cannot say that a lot of the concepts he discusses are reflective of reality, he "can say with certainty that following the concepts as if they are true will yield great results." Looking back, I can remember this sentiment being echoed by a lot of secular witch authors (Mystic Dylan, Maddi Em, and Julie Wilder, for example).

Atheistic/naturalistic paganism, at its foundation, opposes this kind of thinking--to be clear, it opposes the idea that the truth doesn't matter. In his book Atheopaganism: An Earth-Honoring Path Rooted in Science (a book I found to be important, thoughtful and overall logically sound) Mark Green explains that one of the most important reasons for his separation of naturalistic paganism from plain old "Neopaganism" is that the truth matters, and paganism has a weakness for nonsense. He disagrees with the practice of believing in something "because it would be really cool if it were true."

The obvious question is "Why is it bad for people to believe in something as long as it has a positive effect on their life?" Green's answer is that delusions based in wishful thinking are deeply harmful on a societal level. Historically, when unfounded beliefs inform action (or inaction), bad things happen. As an anecdotal example, I knew someone who died because they refused to get real medical treatment--they thought that a certain type of holistic treatment (without evidence to support its effectiveness) would cure them. I suppose another example would be those who die because they believe that prayer will heal their illness.

Soooo...while I believe that witchcraft, secular or otherwise, works...I also want to avoid presenting a concept as if it is true just because, as Auryn says, "following the concepts as if they are true will yield great results."

Obviously I'm rambling, and I'm still mulling this over. But right now I'm thinking that my workings in this sphere should always be expressed to others as transparently as possible. I don't want people to take a certain idea or premise from my practice as truth when really it is just meant as a psychological tool. Otherwise, I would not truly be following "If an ye harm none, do what ye will" to the best of my ability. Does that make sense? I want to know what other people think about this.

Edit: I wanted to add that most (if not all) pagan belief systems emphasize the importance of balancing the magical with the mundane. But I fear that some people might sidestep this or pretend its not an important part of walking the path.

#neopaganism #paganism #spilled thoughts #spilled words #just witchy things #witchcraft #witch #pagan #atheopaganism #naturalistic paganism #secular witchcraft #secular witch #placebo magick #sass witchcraft #sass witch #witches of tumblr #writers of tumblr

[tobiasdrake]

Gonna crack the secret of the d6 faller!

They're having me do choices again to narrow this down. Kinda feels like cheating to guess at what the item was when I saw it at the crime scene already.

Weird that he'd jump or get pushed while holding a die, then care about the value on the die. Is that the game? Leap from the roof and then if you live, you win the value shown on the die? Or something?

Whatever the reason, the value on the die was supremely important to him. Enough to spend his final moments of consciousness/life validating it.

His words changed because he was reading a different value each time he fell.

The fact that he wasn't reading the side facing up can explain our "Three/Two except circumstances didn't change" conundrum, I think. If he was only reading the surface he could most legibly see from his angle, then something did change.

Fubuki had lifted him up into her arms, rather than leaving him lying on the ground. So when he read "Three", he was probably reading the side facing him. But when he read "Two", he was likely reading the top.

Then "One" happened because landing on top of the taxicab completely changed the rolling of the die.

That makes sense. So maybe we aren't dealing with probabilistic reshuffling after all.

*unyielding fury*

Don't you fucking condescend to Fubuki when she's right, you little shit-rodent. Who even invited you to Team Alarm Clock anyway!? Don't you have some some criminals to fucking TRY AND MARRY!?

THANK YOU. Can we ditch the hormonal clown show? He's not contributing anything of value to this party.

There you go. That's better, now you're keeping up. You keep at it and one day you might be as clever as Fubuki!

That's a valid question. But like I said above, I think the answer lies in the angle the man was at. The nature of a die is such that it will display a different number depending on what angle you're looking at it from.

Y'all, the other option was "Because it was my most luckiest day". You have no idea how much self-restraint it took for me not to select that.

But Desuhiko fucking talked down to me when I was right so I'm not giving him the satisfaction of something he can jump on. He needs to go read a book about respecting women's opinions or something. Matter of fact, that might help him with a lot of things.

I'm so mad.

Thus, angles changed everything! We can continue to trust our rewind powers without fear that we may be triggering some overcomplicated timey-wimey nonsense every time we turn the clock back.

Thank you. You're forgiven for being a prick. Learn from this experience and try to grow as a person. ^_^

The number on the die. He must've... extremely vertically rolled the die on purpose, right? If he cared so much about the value, I mean.

I don't think we're going to answer this question while sitting around the hotel cafeteria. We should move this conversation to the crime scene. I can grab a pot of coffee to go. Don't worry, I do it all the time.

Okay. But. How, though? I am not following that train of logic.

._. I still need practice to one day become as clever as Fubuki.

Okay so the number doesn't matter. He was simply delirious when he was reading the number. The point is the die itself.

That makes more sense. I'm on the same page. It's probably from the casino. That should be where we look first.

Okay, your compliments are starting to sound more like negging and I'm souring on you again. Go make us sandwiches or something before you piss me off some more.

Goodwill drained. I hate you again. Please get hit by a car on the way to the crime scene.

Not how Postcognition works, dipshit. It's a frozen snapshot of the crime scene exactly as it appeared when the first witness came upon the scene. We can't follow the trajectory of the die through time.

Also that.

Plus, it wouldn't matter anyway. The die by now has likely rolled so far from the crime scene as to no longer be related anyway. We could spend hours rooting around in the gutters for it, and all that would prove is that we found a die in a gutter.

Too bad Zange burned to death and isn't with us. His ability to recreate his memories in the form of a digital image would be perfect. What matters isn't physically having the die on us; What matters is proving the presence of a die next to the victim's body.

If he wakes up. If I was a murderer, I might be inclined to try again.

Yeah, that.

Not to mention, our window of opportunity to investigate this crime is shrinking. Slowly, but it is. If we want to leverage our Lucky Day powers to help solve this crime then we'll want to get a move on.

For our lucky number?

YES. I wanted to get that when we had our chance! Finally!

Halara's on the same page as I am about that whole "You should try some games of chance" thing. That reeked of casino shilling.

It's not that surprising. The diviner who super-accurately predicted our Lucky Day has to insert some paid ads into her fortunes to make ends meet. I think most YouTubers can relate to that.

"The stars are in a positive alignment for you today. You may even find yourself embracing a burgeoning new relationship. To improve your chances of love further, consider a free consultation with our sponsor Better Help, redeemable when you enter the promo code Crone Readings!"

HALARA DO NOT LEAVE ME ALONE WITH HIM

I have no fears for my own wellbeing but I will drown him. I've done it before. Desuhiko would be no match for my Pied Piper charms.

Fubuki doesn't know what money is worth so would you accept a literal pile of cash? It'd be like doing a mystery unboxing, but inside it's just money. Who knows how much will be in it?

*sigh*

Okay. I guess this is the end for Team Alarm Clock. We made a great pair, Halara. Thank you for your Lucky Day-sponsored free investigative consultation. We wouldn't have made it this far without you.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code #fubuki clockford

[nikethestatue]

Story/theory: Rrecently I read a very popular YA series, Once Upon a Broken Heart, after about 2 years of not really reading any YA and staying in the NA/adult realm. I did adore the series, but while reading, the YA-ness was very clear in terms of tropes employed. People laud the fc because she “isn’t a girlboss” but really she just isn’t a warrior (yay!) But she still is bold, heroic, self sacrificing, hasty, the whole shabang. There is even the mandatory YA heroine scene where she is “forced” to wear something very revealing “because of the situation.” Lol. But. There is also another character, her step sister, who is presented as very feminine, bakes, is shy and timid and gentle, girly, adheres to traditional social norms, and is verbally abused by her only parent her mother. In the end, she ends up being an antagonist who was always jealous of the fc and is secretly a conniving bitch. The way it was written left a bad taste in my mouth. And it made me think of the acotar fandom. After reading YA for the first time in years, it clicked with me that a lot of Gwynriels seem to have strong roots in YA. And it seems the genre is still littered with misogyny. So it seems to me Gwynriels are very comfortable using misogynistic takes and also why they insist “banter” and girlbossism is so important. They’re stuck in YA and I wouldn’t be surprised if many of them have never read adult books beyond SJM. And I see a lot of similarities in terms of what they say they want for a gwynriel book and what a typical YA book consists of. No complexities, just discovering a lost paternity or whatever, spending time with another person, healing and training and falling in love. Yawn.

I think that's where the problem of switching from YA to NA mid-series really becomes glaring.

The series is still read by teens, and the author is old enough to be their mother and wants to write more adult things. So she writes more adult things, but they don't resonate. Because Nesta, even the dumbed down version that we got, is too complex and dark, and strange. So it's easier to latch on to the lowest common denominator, which is Gwyn. There is no complexity to Gwyn and it's easy to like her, especially if you aren't looking for complexity.

The issues isnt that they like Gwyn--that's totally fine. You like what you like, and there no expectation that they should like Elain or anyone else. You can dislike any character.

The problem is that they insist on pitting Elain against Gwyn. Which is in itself misogynistic. Does anyone pit Cassian against Rhys? No. You like one because of this or that, or don't like the other for whatever reasons. But you won't ever hear anyone say, well, Cassian is much better than Rhys because....

It's nonsense. They are completely different characters.

But with women, it's totally acceptable--and that's the problem of the fandom. It's not about merit. It's about who is 'better' than the other. Which is a juvenile conversation and essentially, a waste of time.

[variousqueerthings]

I am totally against bantering

this episode is... odd. I don't hate it. I watched it off the back of the third Doctor's "time warrior" which has sort of a similar plot, and which I also was kind of ambivalent about on the whole, and just... dunno medieval settings -- love'em in stories on the whole, for some reason find them odd in time travel. but also... is it a good story?

sexism rank objectification (female character is ogled/harassed/turned into a sex joke by the doctor and/or a lead we’re supposed to root for and/or the camera): 6/10

sexism rank plot-point (lead female character is only there to serve plot, not to have her emotional interiority explored, or given agency to her emotional interiority): 3/10

interesting complex or pointlessly complex (does the complexity serve the narrative or does it just serve to be confusing as a stand-in for smart, this includes visually): 6/10

furthers character and/or lore and/or plot development (broader question that ties into the previous ones, at least two of these, ideally three should be fulfilled): 2/10

companion matters (the companion doesn’t always have to be there, but if the companion is there, can they function without the doctor– and overall per season how often is the companion the focus or POV of the story): 3/10

the doctor is more than just “godlike” (examines the doctor’s flaws and limitations, doesn’t solve a plot by having it revolve entirely around the doctor’s existence): 8/10

doesn’t look down on previous doctor who (by erasing or mocking its importance, by redoing and “bettering” previous beloved plotpoints or characters, etc.): 6/10

isn’t trying to insert hamfisted sexiness (m*ffat famously talked a lot about how dw should be sexier multiple times, he sucks at writing it): 7/10

internal world has consistency (characters have backgrounds, feel rooted in a place with other people, generally feel like they have Lives): 3/10

Politics (how conservative is the story): 6/10

FULL RATING: 50/100 (if I can count….)

this is a lower rating than "deep breath" and I'm not sure that's right, considering how much nonsense was in that episode, but hey, never said this was totally precise and scientific

OBJECTIFICATION: Clara has a couple of "things" in this. and one of them plays into the way I think this episode is constructed quite half-heartedly and it's that she's obsessed with Robin Hood (I can buy this, even if we haven't seen it before) and when they go to meet RH she dresses as random noblewoman (I wrote in a point further down, because I never fill these out in order, that I realised she could have come out as a Merry Man, because it would have made it so much easier for her to have movement + her interest is RH and the Merry Men not "this time period"), point is, it's a nice dress, but then at one point RH makes a grand escape through a window into a moat... pulling her in with him and then carrying her to safety into the woods, where she wakes up the next day

and she wakes up with her hair perfectly waved, the little jewel thing fastened to her forehead still exactly where it was, makeup intact, dress un-muddied and still exactly as pretty as before

Clara in this episode about her enjoyment of Robin Hood Famous Action Hero, is just a pretty damsel who must never be unprettied... it's just lazy, come on. can the dress not be more than just a reason for JLC to look pretty at least? (and she does look very pretty for sure)

it's in interaction with the rest of the episode, which does a less-good version of Robin Hood than many other Robin Hoods, and in which Clara isn't really the point, despite this ostensibly being about her wish to come here and see her hero

we also have the Scene of her "flirting" with the Sheriff of Nottingham to get information, and it's not too bad. Clara is completely alone, the Sheriff has been established as a very very bad guy, the camera seems to make an effort to not box her in too uncomfortably, considering the danger she's in, it's framed more around him being like "oh she'd make a great queen for me," than "oh hey, she hot and vulnerable," so it could absolutely be worse. I think there's other routes they could have gone down, but definitely I've seen more uncomfortable sexual harassment/danger on this show towards women (sigh)

PLOT-POINT: Clara's been brought here for her love of Robin Hood! and after that she Does not matter whatsoever, there's no interaction with how her emotions about this adventure affect her, because it's not well-enough written for there to be any material to draw from. in many ways it's less a failing on the writing of Clara (although that too) and more a symptom of the failing of this whole episode's construction

COMPLEXITY: in some ways quite Doctor Who in its silliness, so I don't hate that. but I think it didn't go far enough. so much of this plot is around the Doctor not believing Robin Hood is real. so much. soooo so so much! it doesn't take until the last big fight sequence to change his mind. either just run with RH being real early on and give space to something more interesting (such as Idk... Maid Marian), or give us a scifi twist, don't untwist the scifi twist when you're building to a scifi twist in a scifi show in which there are a bunch of scifi things happening, I'm here for scifi, not the worse version of a Robin Hood I already know

CHARACTERS/LORE/PLOT: nothing much here to report, which I think is... a bit oof the more I think about it. not one of these?

COMPANIONS MATTER: as mentioned there's a whole scene in this in which Clara flirts with the Sheriff of Nottingham under quite dangerous circumstances in order to get information out of him, that I don't think matters much in the grand scheme of things. and then off-screen she fills Robin Hood and his Merry Men in on who she and the Doctor are, so that they feel compelled to help

she does have a great little scene with the Doctor + Robin Hood where she takes them to task for competing with each other and mocks them both by using their dramatic titles (prince of thieves and last of the timelords), but on the whole she might as well not be there (it's taken this long in my rating system to remember the term "sexy lamp" and yeah, test failed)

this even odder, because Maid Marian also isn't really in this story until the final scene, except she sort of was, because she was the ward of this random peasant that's taken prisoner and nobody recognises her and she's part of a sort of dull peasant's revolt, and then suddenly oh it's her I guess???-- my point is that Clara ought to have had the Doctor's story in this, in doing the peasant's revolt and working with Marian and figuring out who she is, because it's her favourite story and she's just not really in it (also Marian is... undercover? hiding? unclear, but this is going to be a world-building point, it's just that Marian should have been an interesting character and that Clara should have been hanging with her rather than just standing next to Robin Hood and giving platitudes that he'll find her one day, and not much else...)

(and Marian shouldn't have been presented at the very end from behind the Tardis like K9 was that one time)

“GODLIKE” DOCTOR: I guess there's nothing really one way or another. I actually also did laugh at a few of his entries -- lines that would have been stupid coming from Eleven have a sort of unexpected enjoyment to them with Twelve, because of the juxtaposition of grumpy old Scottish guy reveals he's going to fight Robin Hood with!---- a Spoon!

also he hated the near-constant merriment and was he Wrong?? but also is that a bit too meta, because the episode is making fun of it to the point that it all seems highly unrealistic, but then the rug-pull that these people... are? just like that???

PREVIOUS DOCTOR WHO: they reference Carnival of Monsters (Jon Pertwee), which makes me wish this was doing Carnival of Monsters, rather than what it's actually doing. also as the "guy who just watched Time Warrior" it's doing Time Warrior (also Jon Pertwee) but worse. and I already don't think Time Warrior is the Third Doctor's best

“SEXINESS”: this episode could have been a lot worse, considering there's meant to be so much jovial male banter in it, it's not doing a bunch of sexy bullshit

I'm unsure what to do with the whole... Sheriff of Nottingham wants to make Clara his queen thing, it's sort of there, it could have been way more uncomfortable, but it's also just... irrelevant. and is most of what Clara's role is doing in this story

I just realised that Clara's dream is Robin Hood and his Merry Men, and I think she should have dressed as one of them, rather than random noblewoman who never gets dirty or can properly do action in this story, anyway...

it all could be a lot worse

INTERNAL WORLD: this is the worse. we know the story of Robin Hood, Early of Loxley, loses his lands for speaking out against Prince John (not in this story), in love with Maid Marian (completely sidelined in this story), does an archery contest (okay that is there... different but there) and.... well that's about as far as the story gets in this one, and then after that it becomes scifi stuff, which does end with a duel between Robin and the Sheriff

my point is, that the actual Robin Hood stuff is simply worse than in the other Robin Hood's I've read and seen, and the non-Robin Hood stuff feels very awkwardly shoe-horned in, so in the end none of it is very well drawn

it's all just set pieces without depth, and it's so out of place that that's even part of the plot -- the Doctor finds it all so stupid and unrealistic that he doesn't believe it's real, except, in the end, inexplicably it is -- at least if it was a science fiction thing it would explain the sparksnotes version of the story we're getting

I keep going back to Maid Marian who's pretending to be a peasant, and the Sheriff I guess doesn't notice her and nobody else knows who she is, and she's not going through the feminist version of her story that I think this episode is trying to do, and the connection between "random peasant woman in a dungeon" and "woman revealed from behind the Tardis as Maid Marian" is so tenuous I needed to double-check it was the same actress

there's this bit at the end where Robin tells the Doctor that they're both just stories, which is one of those M*ffat-era fourth wall winks that I have grown really tired of, and in this case also seems to brush over any lackluster interaction with the actual story of Robin Hood. I don't think that's the intention, but it makes me go "ok what story were we just told here," and it's not one that makes a lot of sense or is particularly interesting

the idea of the Doctor interacting with legend and mythology is actually quite interesting, it's just that this episode sort of dropped the ball on that roughly halfway through, by saying "nono this totally unbelievable set of events straight out of a children's version of Robin Hood is real," when there could have been more freedom to go into other directions, rather than just rehashing a story told better elsewhere, if this hadn't been entirely "real"

there's just better Robin Hood than this, is my point

POLITICS: uhhh not a lot actually, which is a shame. Rob from the rich, give to the poor is not 100% absent in this (it gets mentioned), and there's some pretty intense nastiness from the Sheriff early on in the episode where he stabs a man to death, but as an extension of the world building, the ideas conveyed in this don't hang together very well, because the world doesn't hang together very well

FULL RATING: 50/100 (if I can count….)

overall this episode isn't awful, it's just kind of boring (well, it may be awful if you're a big Robin Hood fan). Idk if there's a curse on medieval settings, or if I'm prejudiced against them, but overall this episode had weak world-building and narrative construction that spread into most other facets of it and made them less engaging too

still not convinced it's worse than "deep breath" though, past me

on the upside I quite like the Doctor's personality -- he's not a nice man these days, and Clara could be getting tired of that? and the Doctor perhaps knows this? we'll see how that goes down/if it has any proper narrative consequences

EDIT: it's called "robot of sherwood" why would you call it that and then just have it be ordinary Robin Hood, that's not a twist!??? it's just a bait and switch, and one that's worse than if he was a robot! this is science fiction, it's okay for him to be a robot!

#im watching nu!who #im watching capaldi who #robot of sherwood #the measurement

[tenebriism]

Another season sparks another letter; the idle but warm hearted chatter of a delicate cerulean scrawl once again having found its way into the Khaenri’ahn’s presence. There’s far less purpose to it this time beyond an open stream of consciousness tinged with endearing eccentricity - but Jean feels better for having sent it, all the same. A note to let him know she is thinking of him. A note to remind him that someone still cares. 

Dear nameless breath stealer, 

Can you believe it’s been another three months already? The seasons seem to be passing more and more quickly this year, with Autumn already bringing changes in on the breeze. I always thought Mondstadt was very much a city for Springtime, but as the leaves change to shades of orange and brown I can’t help but think perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps next time you get a chance to steal away from your adventures, you’ll be able to walk with me and see it? I can’t promise I won’t be fully embracing my long forgotten youth and kicking my feet through piles of leaves, but I think you’d enjoy it. It’s peaceful and perhaps even homely. 

Not that I would dare to presume you need consider it a home of course! I know your roots lie in other places, but should you have need of a haven, at least for a little while, I like to think as a nation we might carry just enough charm to make it a pleasant stay. (And yes, dear knight, I am aware that every letter I send you sounds more and more like a tourist brochure for singing Mondstadt’s praises.)

I think I just want to show you so many things and share with you the snippets of mundanity that make me smile, it’s become a second nature now. The amount of times I’ll have walked past a shop window or seen a particularly nice flower and thought, ‘I know who would love this…’ is almost embarrassing to admit. Although these days, particularly now the nights are drawing in, it’s often more after dark that I find you once again in my thoughts. 

It’s definitely one of the perks of the Autumn season; knowing that the sky will drawn in a little bit earlier and the stars will once again twinkle to life. I still wholly stand by my belief you may well have fallen from those stars, but should the moon ever come looking for you, I’ll gladly throw hands to defend your honour, my starlight friend. 

And yes, alright, perhaps I am talking nonsense now. It’s been a long day, but sharing these odd little thoughts with you makes the distance that bit more tolerable. Although on the bright side, at least as the season changes lantern rite creeps ever closer. 

In another few months, we’ll be back in each other’s company and keeping our time honoured tradition alive. But until then, know that I…miss you. And I hope above all else, that you are happy, healthy and safe. 

Stay out of trouble, starshine, 

- J. x

The letter is somewhat STAINED, this time, and the handwriting quite MESSY in comparison to its writer's usual pretty cursive. Her letter finds him amidst a time he needs it MOST, and whether or not SHE knew that, or the gods are playing the game of MERCY with him again, he shan't take a blessing for granted. Perhaps he could have waited until he isn't struggling with himself so the letter could be completely legible, but reading her letter, and swiftly sitting down to RESPOND to it, means he may bask in the feelings and emotions she grants him with ease even longer.

The happiness may be shortlived, but he will cling to it, as he always does.

[ su nshine in dark ti mes ,

im sorry if this letter is a strug gle to deciph er. i fair les s th an well at p resent. do n o t worry , this wil l not kee p me fr om seein g you at the lant ern r i te. of that, iam cert ai n and pr omis e you.

The love and admiration you house for your nation is a pleasant comfort; in that regard, we are very similar. The times I have found myself in or around Mondstadt, I have always felt a sense of home and belonging. Perhaps it is because I know you are there, working tirelessly to ensure it continues to feel that way for both myself and the others who both live and travel there. Regardless, I can say for sure that, of all the nations I have visited, Mondstadt is the one that seems to care for its people the most.

Were I to ever settle down, unlikely though it may be, I am confident Mondstadt would be in my favored choices to do so.

My travels have taken me far from your wind-embraced home, but there is beauty in knowing we are gazing up at the same sky every night. It makes me feel like the distance betwixt us is not so heartbreakingly massive, even if the sun may banish the feeling come morning time.

That you would compare me to starlight is strange, but not unwelcomed. I have certainly fallen, yes, but not from the stars. I have fallen in a great many ways. If I am, indeed, some sort of fallen star, however, then it is befitting that you are the sun. The stars are always out, and whilst we cannot see them during the day, they are there. I like to think they find peace and respite when the sun comes up. A chance to have a break, to bask in the beauties and purities of the sun.

Then, nighttime falls and the sun retreats, bringing darkness and loneliness as the moon then rises to take its place. There, the stars shine again. I used to think I preferred the latter hours of the night, when all is quiet and I may exist undisturbed, though I am starting to enjoy the sun, too. It is blinding and powerful, but beneath it, I find peace. I can merely . . . be. ]

There is a tear beneath this section, where the force of his unsteady hand has ripped the paper. With how ABRUPTLY the letter then proceeds to end, 'tis evident he'd been afraid of tearing it entirely. He needed SOMETHING to send back to her. Something intact, something to let her know she hadn't been forgotten, and that she, too, was missed.

[ i mi ss y ou too. re m em ber to tak e car e of you rsel f, s unsh ine.

~ D . ]

@gunnhildred ;;

#gunnhildred #[ pretend the whole thing is written like the first chunk. i was WAY too lazy to write that whole thing like that #and dain had a lot to say to his bbygrl. ;) <3 ] #muse ;; DAINSLEIF ( ANSWERED ASK ) #muse ;; DAINSLEIF ( ♥ JEAN . GUNNHILDRED )

[underthebrightmooninterests]

5 great Kdrama’s you probably haven’t seen

#1. At A Distance Spring Is Green

At A distance Spring Is Green: 2021, 12 episodes

coming of age, college romance

main lead: Park Ji Hoon & Kang Min Ah & Bae In Hyuk

summary: A coming of age story about young people in their twenties and the problems they face in university. Nam Soo Hyun and Yeo Joon, two boys with contrasting personalities, unexpectedly become friends when working on a project together.

Depicts the realistic worries and conflicts of university students in their 20's, centered around 1st-year student Yeo Joon. Even though Yeo Joon has an attractive appearance and comes from a wealthy background, he carries pain inside. His character is a puppy-dog freshman who takes a liking to a sunbae and follows him around, leading to an unlikely friendship between two very different boys.

opinion: (Can you tell I went through a Park Ji Hoon phase? lol) This drama really doesn’t have a revolutionary storyline which is why I think so many people didn’t watch it. But, I can name multiple reasons for why you should watch it, even if it’s only once. The warm romance between Park Ji Hoon and Kang Min Ah, the brotherly love between Bae In Hyuk and Park Ji Hoon and the dynamics of the trio together were all big reasons for why I enjoyed this drama as much as I did. Furthermore it has a meaningful plotline that you can analyze to your hearts content and watching the characters heal their traumas through their friendships with each other was very heartwarming. I haven’t read the webtoon it was based on but as far as the drama goes, I definitly enjoyed it and would recommend you give it a shot.

#2. 18 Again

18 Again: 2020, 16 episodes

romance, fantasy

main lead: Lee Do Hyun & Yoon Sang Hyun & Kim Ha Neul

After nearly twenty years of marriage, Jung Da Jung and Hong Dae Young seem to be well settled in their domestic lives. The proud parents of a pair of eighteen year old twins, the devoted couple have worked hard to build a happy home together. But what seems like an ideal life on the outside is really anything but. Fed up with Dae Young’s incessant nonsense, Da Jung is at her wits’ end. When Dae Young announces that he’s been fired, Da Jung gives up completely. Convinced life would be better without her husband in it, Da Jung wastes no time in filing for divorce. 

Shaken by his wife’s decision to leave him and utterly disappointed in where life has taken him, Dae Young takes a hard look at his life. It doesn’t take him long to see all the places where things went wrong, and soon he finds himself regretting absolutely everything about his life. The moment the thoughts of regret enter his head, his body is instantly transformed into that of an eighteen year old, while his thirty-seven year old mind remains intact. Suddenly given the chance to re-do his entire life, Dae Young changes his name to Ko Woo Young and enrolls himself in his children's’ school. Seeing life from an entirely different perspective, Dae Young soon finds that despite keeping his middle-aged brain, he still has a lot to learn.

opinion: This drama really had no right to be as good as it is. I watched this purely because a drama based on the 2009 Zac Efron movie ‘17 again’ just sounded so stupid that I just had to check it out. Someone please tell me why this was one of my favourite drama’s from 2020? The acting was great, the plotline kept you hooked and the drama managed to capture the story of life choices and regret better than the 2009 movie did. Also, it doesn’t have a weird incest plot line like the movie did which is a plus ig. Highly enjoyable story that makes you love and root for all the characters involved, there’s not really any huge negative points to note in my opinion.

#3. Hit The Top/ The Best Hit

The Best Hit: 2017, 32 episodes

Comedy, romance

main lead: Yoon Si Yoon & Lee Se Young & Kim Min Jae & Cha Tae Hyun

Lee Ji Hoon and Choi Woo Seung are two childhood friends who also happen to be preparatory students for the civil service exam, although Ji Hoon has a secret dream to be a singer and songwriter. One day they meet Yoo Hyun Jae, a popular but problematic member of a popular '90s idol group who accidentally traveled through time to the year 2017 from the year 1993. Thus begins the story of passion, love, and friendship among 20s youth in the entertainment industry.

opinion: I feel like I have to preface this recommendation by saying that it has been YEARS since I’ve seen this and I’m purely going by my memory of really loving this when I first watched it. I also don’t remember it being 32 episodes but the episodes are only half an hour so it’s basically just 16, one hour episodes. This drama was enjoyable, very entertaining and had a unique concept but there is a part of me that feels like they didn’t quite know what they wanted it to be. At some points it felt like a sitcom and in other points I felt like they spent so much time on the mc that it was just straight up romance. That being said, I don’t think any of those elements really take away from this being an enjoyable viewing experience none the less.

#4. A korean Odyssey

A Korean Odyssey: 2017, 20 episodes

Comedy, fantasy, romance

main lead: Lee Seung Gi, Oh Yeon so, Cha Seong Won

In 2017, Son Oh Gong and Ma Wang are in conflict with each other as they look for a true light in a dark world where evil thrives. Having made a contract with Seon Mi 25 years ago, entitling her to seek help from Son Oh Gong whenever she calls him in exchange for letting him free, the two meet again in a fateful encounter. From there, Son Oh Gong is bound to his protective role towards Seon Mi, the little girl he had met years ago.

opinion: When I tell you I was OBSSESSED with this drama while watching it, I really mean it. The acting is good, the comedy hits and the dynamics between the characters are very entertaining and probably one of its strongest selling points. Every scene between Lee Seung Gi’s character and Cha Seong won’s were GOLD. That being said, if I’d have to note one down side to this drama it would probably be the fact that the later half starts dragging a little and the drama could’ve probably been told in 16 episodes. I’m also still not sure how I feel about the ending. All of that being said, this is drama was good overall and fueled my Lee Seung Gi obssesion to what it is today.

5. Tomorrow

Tomorrow: 2022, 16 episodes

Action, fantasy

main lead: Kim Hee Soon, Rowoon, Lee Soo Hyuk

Choi Joon Woong seeks a job, but it's hard for him to get hired. One night, he witnesses a man trying to end his life and decides to stop him. He gets acquainted with grim reapers Koo Ryeon and Im Ryoong Gu, who belong to a crisis management team. Their purpose is to prevent people from committing suicide. After Joon Woong ends up in a coma and becomes half-human and half-spirit, he is employed by a company of grim reapers as the newest member of the crisis management team.

opinion: South Korea ranks fourth in the world when it comes to suicide rate. This drama explores that heavy topic with fantasy elements and surprisingly funny comedic moments. The topics in this drama are HEAVY but the drama does a good job at not becoming gloomy or depressing to watch. ‘Tomorrow’ does a great job at both tastefully discussing serious matters and undercutting the heavy stuff with sweet moments and comedy. minimal romance but maximum trauma.

#kdrama #kdrama recommendations #tomorrow kdrama #at a distance spring is green #a korean odyssey #hit the top kdrama #the best hit kdrama #18 again #18 again kdrama #2022

[captain-astors]

01 Tokis Ghoul :)))

Awful takes ahoy

Favorite character:

It changes frequently but Takizawa has permanent residence in at least the top 3. Recently I've been liking Shikorae.

Least Favorite character:

I've mentioned that the worst offense a character can make is being boring. So I probably don't remember them at all, but of the ones I do know :re Touka. She's so sadly bland and it just feels like her personality hasn't been developed just taken down a couple notches. I like her so much! I don't like what was done with her.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): Oh god, in no particular order:

If I had to pick one of the big three kaneki ships: Shuuneki. shuunaki because I read a couple good fics, utaren's very interesting to me romantically and platonically, I heard of Eto Itori and Rize once and it's lived in my mind since. And then one of my many rarepairs that will seem weird or outright nonsensical is furushuu. I won't bother attempting to explain, I'd get nowhere, but if you were me it'd seem so interesting I promise. My favorite genre for all of these except for itorizeto (of which I just think they should conquer the world, the way their names connect so easily makes me happy. They're entirely there if you look at them individually, but as a whole they also overlap with each other!) is one-sided affection. I'm a fan of pining.

Character I find most attractive: 

I've never really sat back and gone "wow that is a pretty person" while reading Tokyo Ghoul. The closest I've gotten was seeing an Ayato cosplayer just pick up a person and carry them, matsumae for a moment, and when I first got into the series, Shuu.

Character I would marry: 

Kanae.

Character I would be best friends with:

Kanae, Kurona, and Nishiki seem cool but they'd hate my guts! Anyone that comes to mind first as an interesting as a friend would probably want me dead, So Hanbee or Koori. They could learn to tolerate me.

a random thought:

When tumblr starts being thirsty over “that old man” I do think of Kureo Mado (Akira’s dad) I Am Sorry. I will not change.

An unpopular opinion:

This fandom is too dead for me to know what a popular opinion is so: Kaneki isn't that interesting after the tsukiyama extermination arc, and Touka's speech to him when he came back to Anteiku did literally nothing. Touka and Hide's influence gives Kaneki brief moments of clarity before doing something stupid that'll hurt people, and then he does the stupid thing that'll hurt people anyways but we should root for him anyways because he's thinking of them... Is suppose.

My Canon OTP:

This is a funny one because I am either neutral or outright annoyed by most canon ships. I guess Nishikimi, they support and love each other and Kimi’s character couldn’t be assassinated to love a man because it was a quality of her personality from the beginning, and even if :re doesn’t devote too much time to her she’s still an influential and decent character.  

My Non-canon OTP: 

I kind of ship almost anything that drifts my way a little bit and nothing passionately. You could give me any of the ones I've mentioned and 50% of those I haven't and I'd go "yeah sure that one"

Most Badass Character:

ETO YOSHIMURA MY EVERYTHING, I don’t care how many times Kaneki changes his hair color she is unmatched.

Most Epic Villain:

Furuta and his weird methods. It’s unfortunate we never got a real idea of how strong he is because kingneki got a final form complete with religious imagery to crush the sinner! And barely took a scratch that entire fight. Seriously if the early confrontation with an aggressive bisexual with a poorly thought out plan trying to eat your main character is more intense than the final fight of the series with a character who’s a living manifestation of all of the issues that characters in this series suffer from, both on the receiving and giving end, I feel like it’s all gone off the deep end.

Pairing I am not a fan of:

The two weirdly-prevalent-in-the-old-fandom cousin pairings. Yes the one-sided attraction is canon, they’re still cousins and I don’t like it when that obsession is romanticized even when rewritten to be “ethical” otherwise. Unhealthy pairings can be interesting if handled well but they’re also related. But if you want my petty "nothing wrong with this the vibes just aren't it" answer, Hinami and Ayato.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another):

Is all of them an option. Mostly joking but really, so many of them never got a good resolution or were straight up abandoned by the narrative but it's okay because look! Main character got a happy family! Not sure how because from the state we saw him in earlier I don't think he's fit to have a stable friendship let alone a wife and two kids but alright I guess kisses cure issues. I feel the worst for Takizawa, Furuta, Shuu, and Mutsuki currently because I'm thinking about how they never got a good resolution.

Favourite Friendship:

I’m making it friendshipS because there is no way I could limit myself to just 1, Chie and Tsukiyama, Shikorae and Takizawa, the clowns in general, the quinx squad in general, and I know it's not nearly canon but Furuta and Eto were made enemies BECAUSE GOD WAS AFRAID OF WHAT THEY WOULD ACHIEVE IF THEY WERE FRIENDS. I like to ponder the mischief and mind games that would ensue they're so awful.

Character I most identify with:

Oh I'm not self aware enough for this one assign me a person if you wish! I've been made to take quiz things a few times and I believe my results from those have been taki, kuki, and furuta but I don't trust my reading comprehension skills, the quiz makers opinions, or my own answers enough to trust that.

Character I wish I could be:

If we're just talking abilities, Shikorae. If you mean "You literally have to become them", unfortunately how fun it would be to play their role comes hand in hand with trauma, Touma Higemaru perhaps. Bikakus are my favorite kind of Kagune, and he's a pretty blank slate. I could do a lot, anyone with more intrigue ends up dead or completely alone.

I had a lot of fun with this one.

#tokyo ghoul #miscellaneous not-art things #thanks for the opportunity to ramble! #zeph answers questions about media/characters/ships

[alltingfinns]

This is the least relevant post I could make, but something that’s been bugging me since the nineties is a sitcom conversation about “political correctness” as in what is now called “cancel culture”.

Sitcom in question is Spin City where Michael J Fox plays deputy mayor of New York. At the end of an episode he and his co-workers are hanging out at the bar they’re always hanging out in after work. I couldn’t tell you the main plot of the episode if I tried, but it must have been something about causing an offense towards a minority in some way. Because I can exactly remember Michael’s character saying:

“So what? If I go around singing girls just want to have fun, will people get angry that I’m insinuating that men just want to be boring and serious?”

To which one of his female co-workers reply:

“No, but they will be angry that you referred to women as girls.”

And I, in roughly my early teens or younger, get super annoyed. Because the sentence “girls just want to have fun” doesn’t in any way preclude anyone else wanting to have fun!! The “just” isn’t before girls, it’s before wanting to have fun. At most it could imply that girls are the only ones that want nothing else but fun, that men must want something besides fun. But that is only insinuated by the singling out of girls, rather than singing people just want to have fun.

The actual “reason to cancel” anyone over the lyric would be the much more explicit implication*) that “girls” have no other ambition or aspiration but to have fun. That “girls” are too vapid for long term goals, and “just” want to have fun.

Note: I am not saying that is the meaning of the song or that it should at all be canceled over the lyrics. To be absolutely clear this is NOT a cancellation of Cyndi Lauper or 80s bubblegum pop.

This is explicitly me being annoyed that the syntax and sentence structure was completely ignored for an interpretation that clashes with the text, when actually considering the order of the words anyway provided a more interesting interpretation. Like, maybe it’s just me, but wouldn’t the dialogue have been funnier as:

“So what? If I go around singing girls just want to have fun, will people get angry that I’m insinuating that girls don’t have any other ambition or drive in life?”

“No, but they will be angry that you referred to women as girls.”

I mean, to me, making Michael’s line rooted in a slightly more serious interpretation of the lyric, one that sounds a bit more “woke”-ish, highlights the contrast in the reply more sharply. I don’t get how me as a kid with English as my second language got that, but a room full of writers where presumably the majority were native English speakers thought a completely nonsensical interpretation made more sense for the joke.

*) I’m aware that explicit and implicit are antonyms, I still stand by my word choice.

#tumblr #where else am I gonna dump seriously outdated media commentary?

[captainmera]

Hey! Love your comic <3 as someone in the same age gap as you, I was wondering how do you go about making time for adult responsibilities and a webcomic, I find it very hard to work on one while having a dayjob and household chores

Hello! Thank you for enjoying my story! :D

Unfortunately, my living situation is a bit different. So my answer might not be very helpful.

But in order to be transparent and maybe share what my life looks like, here's a long answer! Hopefully this insight gives you some clue on what you can do for yourself.

this is long. But bear with it!

First of all - I don't have a job.

I live in Sweden and I have benefits, which means minimum wage.

The thing is that IBWR is what I do to not go completely silly in my home. Most of my life is within the boarder of my home [for reasons] and I am either struck with the whispers of depression going This is all there ever will be, or the whimsical story of IBWR. And one doesn't want me to walk around anymore, the other wants me to walk around long enough to finish what I've started. Between the two, the later sounds more appealing. I like living.

I have a schedule,

and this is the key to getting anything done.

A common misconception is waiting around for the muses of art and writing to waterboard you in their fountain. This is incorrect. You have to make appointments for that sort of thing and believe you me when I say this: If you make an appointment with them, they will show up with more creative tools to torture you with than water.

If you have an appointment with a friend, you show up. If you have an appointment with your doctor, you show up. If you have an appointment with the story that is in your heart and constantly on your mind, you have to show up.

You have to make an appointment with yourself and you have to show up for it. I promise this works. Open up your art program or writing document and I promise things will happen. If you have difficulty getting started anyway, you are missing either a hot beverage or a hat.

If it is important to you, you make time for it.

And if you, for some unpointable reason can't seem to make yourself show up for your own appointment and keep rescheduling, you might have a case of lacking reason.

What's a good reason, you ask?

Well... Why do you want to make your story? It's going to be easier to show up for it if you know why you want to sit down with the story. Is it to be popular? to meet friends? to get rich? to just make something creative as a hobby? To build a portfolio? To get into the art industry? Maybe it's not even a webcomic you want to do, maybe it's comic strips or animatics. Why did you show up to your meeting today? And, mind you - all reasons are valid. There's no moral compass that determines which is more noble a cause or not. Put that nonsense in the bin. This is a judgement free zone. Dreams has no judgement. Be you, do you, chase your happiness. I am rooting for you!!! If you are dreaming about being popular due of something you have created - that's cool! Great! Now you know how to approach your appointment and how to schedule the appropriate amount of time and energy for it. Knowing is just going to make it easier for you to know what you need to do to get where you want with it.

I have chores too, and I live alone.

Chores are.... Chores. I don't like doing the dishes (Laundry is fine, and vacuuming too!), I don't have a dishwasher and I can't afford one. But it needs to be done. Sometimes you just gotta roll up your sleeves and get it over with, maybe buy a new scrub brush. I live alone so it's not a lot, but after a week there's still a wee lil' pile there staring at me as though it had hips to put it's hands on and ask me where I've been all night. I really should schedule to do dishes twice a week, but you don't want to have a meeting with dishes twice a week lest you want it to zap away the little energy of joy you've gathered thru the week. You got to live a little too, damnit! It cant be all chores and responsibilities! My rule is that cleaning takes maximum 20 minutes and minimum 5 minutes. And knowing how little time that is in comparison to an entire week, as well as having a scheduled date and hour for it, helps tremendously.

Besides, you probably have two hells to knock on. My second one is the gym.

Oh, Hell. Turns out you can make an appointment with hell, show up at its door and think "Ah, Monday. I hope the leg-press is available."

But really, again, making a scheduled time for chores - as well as anything else - does help a lot. And most importantly, sticking to that schedule.

Schedules are sacred.

I know some youngins are anti-schedule and think routines are what makes you dull and boring. In truth, routines that YOU have made (not someone else) for yourself are a blessing. It gives you control over your life when it feels like things are going too quickly downhill on a bike without breaks. Having a routine gives you a sense of respect for the things you do, at least if you commit to following up on them. When YOU make decisions of when you wake up, when you sleep, when you eat when you work when you make time for beloved people, etc.. It will teach you self-respect and the gratification of sticking to a promise you made for yourself. To recognise you can keep a promise to yourself, repeatedly, to commit to yourself is a gift nobody but you can give yourself. This gift will seep into everything you do. This will be the soil to a seed that's been waiting to grow for a long time:

Confidence.

And you need confidence to post something as vulnerable as a story. It starts small - choose when you wake up, that's easier than choosing when to sleep. Once you've taught yourself how to wake up at 7am, consistently, suddenly this determination seeps into other things that needs to get done. Like chores. Tasks at work. Making nerve-wrecking calls. buying food. Making a webcomic. And then, one day. There you are. Going downhill, with breaks you've made yourself and think "what a nice road." You get to choose what is a priority, who gets to have a piece of your time (that isn't obligatory like a job or kids), and it will teach you that your time is valuable. Your schedule is sacred. And it will teach you that not everyone are privy to your time. People who try to bully you into giving them a time in your schedule will never have time available to them. Bullies already steal enough of your time as it is, after all, by trying to get your attention. And! it will make the people you choose to make time for feel more important to you and they will feel important to you as well - you chose them, after all, for no other reason than that you want to spend your time with them. People like to feel important to others, it makes them feel loved. Schedules will give you a peace of mind. And the best thing about schedules is that they are forgiving when you are forgetful or life happens. It's called rescheduling. So there's no need for guilt or shame. As long as you make sure to show up next time.

So when should you schedule doing a webcomic?

You don't have to start with drawing everyday. You can start scheduling once or every second week. Heck, once a month is a good start too! As long as you show up for it. Set the bar where it feels like you will actually show up for it, consistently. Every time, on the dot. Like a friend for a coffee.

And, if you by some unknown reason, still find yourself rescheduling your own appointment with the webcomic over and over.. You need to face the reasons why. Do you think it will fail? Are you scared nobody will like it? Do you feel like your skill isn't good enough to begin yet? Do you think you need to know stuff about things before you begin? Why are you afraid?

I was afraid too.

Not to get too tmi here, but I had gotten it into my head that I had to compensate, somehow, for being alive. That unless I was a normal adult (whatever that means), if I didn't become what was expected of me - then I had failed. At life. And I had some debt to pay to... I don't know? The universe? Something. I had to be convenient to be loved and accepted. When you have to plan your life around someone else's unpredictability you lose yourself in the process. When you plan your life around abstract things like "success" you will quickly find yourself lost and feeling very, very, alone.

IBWR came to me anyway, even when I felt worthless, voiceless and unimportant. And it told me things I needed to hear, needed to see, needed to understand. I felt like I had waited for this story to give me a hug for a very long time. And one of my driving forces to continuing to make IBWR, to continuing showing up for it's appointments, became "maybe someone else needs a hug from my story, too."

You dont need a big hearty reason to write a story.

You just need a reason, any reason, that makes show up and want to show up - for yourself.

Nobody else is going to show up to write this story. Nobody else will feel like this story is important to make, until you make it important to yourself to work on it. Nobody knows what this story is about yet, but you do - You are this story's only voice.

Make an appointment with it.

Open up your scheduler and find an hour to sit down and just think about the story. Maybe doodle for it. Make w.i.ps and sketches. Make reference sheets, make notes, write a chapter with words first, maybe write the chapter youre most excited about and work your way backwards! "working on the comic" means any of those things and more. Working on a story means work before the work.

Start anywhere, but begin with an appointment.

I promise it works.

Oh! And, if it doesn't - hot beverage or a hat. Trust me. It's one of those things.

#ibwr #mera writes #liveblogging #personal #writing #write a webcomic #draw a webcomic #schedule #schedules are sacred #captains logbook #captains log #captain's log

[vergess]

The Letters from Watson situation and you bringing up that being exposed to bigotry over time normalizes it reminds me of a situation where I was hurt because someone didn't tw for bigotry. I watched the Nanny a lot as a young kid and when Matt Baume did a video essay about it and it's roots in queer culture I decided to try and re-watch it. When I actually went to watch it, I was floored by the sheer scale of fatphobia presented. It wasn't a jab here or there every other episode, it was a barrage of fatphobia in every episode, baked into the text. I tried to hold out, to see if I could ignore it, but eventually found myself in tears as a chubby child actress was berated on screen for comedic effect. But what really scared me was... The show was getting to me. I was starting to see the thin but less petite elder daughter as fat, when I wouldn't have before. The show was changing my perspective despite my best efforts to not let it get to me. Fatphobia is not comparable to anti semitism, but this taught me that, if you are going to present a piece of media, or analyze it, not mentioning or warning for bigotry is irresponsible at best, and endorsement at worst. I'm still a bit irritated that fatphobia wasn't mentioned even once in the essay. I'm really sorry this backlash is happening over a very reasonable reaction. :/

Mmm, actually I think most kinds of bigotry are very comparable.

Not universally, no. But, in general? People benefit from comparing them. Solidarity is often built on learning the things we have in common first, so that we can better help respect and protect each others' different needs, interests and abilities.

Just off the top of my head, for example, fat people and Jewish people are both characterized as greedy, and in fact, Jewish people are often specifically characterized as fat.

But that's REALLY off topic, haha.

In this case, while there were some warnings made about a month ago (apparently these warnings were repeated if you use the email reader, but I do read on the website, where the warnings are not repeated), and while I was aware of the content going in, my issue is, again, not with the existence or lack thereof of the TW list.

As I have. Repeatedly and constantly said. I think the TW list is lovely. It's great. It's very complete. Nice work everyone. No one has any problems with the TW list. No one has ever had any problems with the FUCKING. TW. LIST.

THE PROBLEM. IS WITH. THE UNHINGED. ANTISEMITISM. IN RESPONSE. TO THE MOST MILQUETOAST. IMAGINABLE. POST. EVER. MADE.

Here's the breakdown.

20 y/o Jewish woman: Gosh, even with the trigger warning a whole month ago that imo was really not enough, that sure was some antisemitism. I would prefer to see more pushback on such intense racism in the future, but it is early days. Sure hope things get better as we go!

Me, 30+ Jewish person: Haha, yeah, reminded me of how much it hurt to read when I was a kid. Glad I've got bigger problems to worry about nowadays lol.

Every gentile within earshot: OH SO YOU THINK WE SHOULD CODDLE YOU POOR LITTLE JEWBABY FEELINGS HUH? WE SHOULD CENSOR ART FOR YOUR PRECIOUS WIDDLE OWIES? YOU WANT YOUR TO PRE-DIGEST YOUR WORDS BECAUSE YOUR SUBHUMAN JEW BRAINS CAN'T READ? KILL YOURSELF!!!!!!!!

Me, again: Okay, well. That is an extreme fucking reaction so let's fucking calm our asses down with the goddamn nazi shit for ten fucking minutes, perhaps????

And then the gentiles devolved into further screaming about how I'm, I don't know...

They seem to have convinced themselves of a lot of things at this point. The ones willing to put their names on it are mostly content to call me anything from a liar to a harasser to an imbecile incapable of reading, to someone with a personal hatred of the Substack operator, etc etc.

They seem broadly convinced that I "want" something or to impose on the substack. Which is nonsense. All I "wanted" was to read some books I liked with a group of people and discuss, and that ship has thoroughly fucking sailed.

The anonymous bitches are mostly wandering into blood libel at this point. Again, I used to post all my anon threats, but I stopped doing that once bigots got smart enough to start reporting me for spam when I did that, because victims showing their harassment in public is, of course, the real harassment.

They also seem not to be aware of a very simple fact:

I can still see your comments in my notifications page if I'm the OP, even after you've blocked me, and it is very fucking obnoxious.

#answered asks #themetafarers #A sstudy in semiticss #anti semitism #antisemitism #letters from watson blacklist/ #holmes