I can't stop thinking about Colin on his travels. Colin, alone, on a journey to 17 different cities, across several countries. Colin on his own.
Colin who writes letter after letter, to his family, to his friends, and barely gets a response back. How long before he understands that they didn't get lost in the mail? How long until he realizes that, just like when he was a boy, no one has the time for him? The space for him? How many letters unanswered before he lets it finally take root and fester in his mind?
He could have died on that tour.
Would they even notice? Would they see when the letters slow until they cease? Would they wonder why? His mum, surely (maybe, possibly, but she has enough on her hands, besides, and he's never been a concern, in need of her assistance, before), but anyone else? Anthony on his honeymoon, Eloise a stormcloud personified, Benedict taking on the familial responsibilities, Fran preparing for the marriage mart and in Bath, regardless. Daphne, his closest sister, a mum running her own estate.
Greg and Hyacinth who enjoy his stories, but are children.
Pen who ignores him. No explanation, no goodbye.
Colin who has no one in his corner. Colin who travels city to city, putting on personas. Will they like me? What about now? Colin who has hardly anything to read from the people he loves. Who do not think of him.
And yet he thinks of them. Brings them back gifts, writes his recollections for them until it hits him that, oh, they don't care. They don't care what he's doing, how he's doing. They didn't want to hear it before, when he was there with them, and they do not want to hear it now, either. Did they even open those envelopes? Did they see them come through the post, just as proof he's alive, and shrug off the contents? Did they look? Once, Colin sends an empty page. No one notices. Easier, then, to send just the outsides. People only ever care about the outsides. Pretty and prim in neat packages, uncaring of what lies beneath. Sea sick on the rocking boats, staring up at stars on the continent, Colin grows aware, but not bitter. Sad, but resigned.
He loves his family, he loves Pen, loves them to grace, loves them to it's okay. It was him, he determines. Too chatty, his letters too long, uninteresting, his passions dull or droll, or else, worse, he's displeased them in some way. Colin who takes refuge in stranger's arms and homes, who dreams and tries to sate his curiosity. Colin who pretends, because anyone, anyone but him would be received better, he's sure of it. Colin who must talk too much, surely, and with no one to listen. Colin who learns to hush.
Yes. Remarkable- as in, I have many remarks about it.
How many times did he go to excitedly write of what he did that week, and stopped himself, knowing it was a waste? How many times did he write and throw into the fire a letter asking Why don't you see me? Why don't you care?
If he didn't make it, how long would it take for anyone to notice? A month? Two? A year? Would they wave it off as his frivolity, denounce him as a flake and fume about the funds? Would they wonder where it was he had lost himself off at?
He cannot fall into that, so, he writes in his journal, instead. Of the ache of it, of how he longs for connection, for understanding, for someone to take him seriously. He keeps it with him, this log of his discontent, of his folly and felicity, of his pitfalls and pains.
If he didn't make it, would they realize all that's left of him is what he sent them, not even a body to bury? Did he look over the side of a bow of a boat and look at the churn of the ocean and think of how many bones it held? Did he tip his face to the sun? How many new scars did he earn? Who did he befriend?
Who did he become?
Somewhere along the line, Colin learned. He learned the real him wasn't wanted.
Somewhere along the line, somewhere between Patmos and Paris, Colin left Colin behind.
And, somewhere along the line, Colin laid face to face with loneliness in his bed, and it wrapped its arms around him.
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in the world of Villain Coded, are there still superhero comics? Leaving aside 'creepy promotional comics about real life people'.
oh there's absolutely still fictional superhero comics. they probably fill a little bit of a different entertainment niche than in Our universe - the vibes are wildly different but I imagine VERY roughly analogous to how, say, something like Columbo exists as a story and character even though he is Not a real human live detective. or maybe as an even more fictionalized version of something like True Psychic Tales (stuff like True Psychic Tales where it's sensationalized versions of Real Hero Exploits also definitely exists, but that's a different question). (god the in universe discourse about Superhero Comics As Propaganda is probably rancid)
this is tangential to the original question but thinking about it also made me realize there's probably a HUGE underground/indie comics scene around both real and fictional superheroes/supervillains. "supervillain as the protagonist" indie comics are probably a particularly big niche and probably just as controversial as a lot of Underground Comix of the real life Back In Da Day, especially if your Evil Guy Of Interest is inspired by/actually Is one of the big heavy hitter evils. anyway all this to say if you go looking I'm almost certain you can find at least One zine about The Invincible Bulkhead that's pretty openly Comic By and For People Who Like Bears
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Ok this is probably gonna be controversial
Even though I generally don't mind the fanon marauders (i couldn't hate them more but also idc, let ppl hv fun), i think it's a very interesting phenomenon. Don't get me wrong, i definitely don't conflate what ppl enjoy in fiction with real life, but imo it's rather interesting to see how our values and worldview influences the literature we produce and consume (otherwise it wouldn't be necessary to completely change the marauders' personalities in the first place)
Generally, i think it's just that ppl want to impose current day values and trends on the characters they grew up with and thus have a great degree of nostalgia for, seems lyk a perfect mix. And most ppl probably don't want deep, complex and heart breaking stuff in something they view as recreation. And that unconventional ships are fun in general. The entire thing is just silly fun
But also, i think the specific characterization of the marauders as one dimensional social justice warriors who are completely correct all the time(to the point where they're justified in every wrong thing they do in the name of defending rights or sm shit) comes from the fact that a lot of ppl like to think of themselves in this way as well. There's no place for growth, correction or nuance, there's just good vs evil and right vs wrong. In the sense that they're the knights in shining armour and the rest of the world is purely evil. And this is just my opinion, but i think being an sjw is more of a cool fad now than anything else (particularly in the West). The purpose of what ur fighting for comes second to feeling good about yourself and having a superiority complex that comes with believing that ur completely, totally right with everything u say and do. The truth is, despite the fact that it's good to feel this way, i think literally no one is lyk this, no matter how accepting and empathetic they believe themselves to be. A lot of it is constantly questioning if ur doing the right thing and constantly critically analysing ur views and positions by trying ur best to see things from every perspective (or at least thts the way I see it). Everyone always has something they need to change. My point is, i think ppl hv a hard time accepting that those fighting for noble causes can still be wrong about other things and can still believe in the backward thinking of their time without being revolutionaries(a simple glance at history would have made this obvious but nvm) It obvs doesn't make it acceptable to the slightest but it is what it is, the younger generation learns from their mistakes and so on. This, imo, is particularly common amongst the more chronically online folks, those who see themselves as the ultimate upholders of justice. U can have assholes who are trying their best to do what is right while still being shitty in their own ways. Snape can save the world and represent the power of redemption while still being a pathetic and miserable person. James and Sirius can be extremely cruel bullies while still being brave and noble by risking their lives and fighting for the cause when they were barely out of school (particularly Sirius, given what he was raised to believe in). Regulus can still be honourable and brave for ultimately sacrificing his life in hopes of bringing down voldemort while still retaining the fact tht he was obsessed with a cult leader calling for genocide (and incidentally, we hv no proof tht regulus stopped believing in all his other prejudices before his death).
None of these characters need to be confined to the 'a part of the LGBT community- or homophobic' binary to categorise them into good and evil, in the sense that the uwu marauders and Slytherin skittles (who were literal DEs in canon) are always the good ones and Snape gets the rear end of the stick. Plus being a part of the LGBT community doesn't automatically make ur character interesting,complex, or better, neither does it need to be their entire personality..imo this idea isn't as progressive as it's made out to be and isn't the representation ppl think it is.
These are thoughts haphazardly floating around in my brain and I cannot write a satisfactory and conscise conclusion to save my life, so, uhh, feel free to fill in lmao
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