#polin tv writers au

[your3fundamentaltruths]

the pen’s in my hand - 23. allergies

Set in the TV writers AU. You can find it on AO3.

“El,” Penelope asks uneasily as they’re preparing snacks for movie night. “Is something . . . wrong with Colin?

[somedayillbepeterpan]

It’s taking a while for my laptop to get here and all my time (and braincells) are currently expended in learning the ins and out of my new job.

So, while I only have my phone to help me write (which isn’t my favourite), I have turned to reading fanfics again.

I’m posting the ones I desperately want to make edits and art for but my graphic design abilities are 2/10 and my drawing abilities is 0/10 😂

However, I hope to offer simple reviews while I wait and firgure out how to get all these thoughts and emotions out of my head for 2 fictional people.

Disclaimer: this is one of those cheating AUs that came out after Debling was introduced. If you don’t like stories like that then this is not your cup of tea.

This author is one of my favourite Polin fanfic writers. They are the reason I fell in love with the Modern AU genre. Their other work, Cardigan, is easily one of my top 10 Polin fanfics. I have shared it to anyone I know who cares 😂 But this one above, in my eyes is another smashing success.

I stumbled upon this wonderful story after reading one of my mutuals’ cheating AUs (which I’ll post a review on after this).

I don’t know if it’s my love for Polin or how well the angst was laid out on this story that made me cry multiple times yesterday and today on my way to work. It’s 25 chapters but short ones so it’s an easy read. Chapters 22 and 23 are my favourites.

There really is this magnetic pull from friends to lovers stories where your mind is set immediately that the two main characters belong together no matter what the universe throws at them. That dichotomy between the ease of companionship and the fragility of the bridge between friends to lovers makes the angst so deeply felt. But you’re left desiring the best for them, even if they have to pick up broken pieces after.

The phrase “I’ll have you in whatever form I can” smattered all across the chapters broke my heart than any of the other angsty parts. Possibly, because I understand that from a personal perspective. Once you meet your person, it really, honestly doesn’t matter whatever storm or deluge or destruction you cross. You’ll do it for the person you love. And it is not because of the love you feel for them because that love alone won’t survive a tempest but it is the love that you share that survives a catastrophe— which is what this story had.

Can’t recommend this enough.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Thanks so much for tagging me, @cocoamoonmalfoy (who also made the v pretty graphic above!!)

Rules: Shout out 1 of your newer works, 1 you're super proud of, and 1 of your older works!!

1) eggs in heaven

Masters of the Air | Gale x Bucky | 1.2k | T

Gale wondered, was it still beautiful with the windows shot out, the German planes in their crosshairs and them in theirs? Would it be beautiful again, he wanted to ask John.

This was my first fic for my current fandom! I love rereading this because seeing how I (or anyone) wrote a character for the first time always fascinates me. How do I describe their mannerisms, their internal tensions, the tone of their presence? Sometimes you learn the most by going back to the start!

2) For Now, We May Remain Silent

Spider-Man | Peter x MJ | 179k | T

And even though his hands are shaking when he places them on his thighs and pushes up from the curb, Peter totally understands. He understands how he’s just disqualified himself from having a place in Michelle’s life. He understands, with the force of the asteroid colliding with Earth to wipe out the dinosaurs, that he’s in love with her.

I'm never not gonna talk about this one. My Pride and Prejudice AU baby! It's the longest thing I've ever written, and the AUiest AU I will probably ever attempt. A labour of love from start to finish. The feeling of sitting at my desk and turning the pages of Pride and Prejudice as I wrote will always be with me.

3) All the Belles and Whistles

Bridgerton | Eloise x Penelope | 11.4k | T

If catching Colin’s eye in a way that made him think of marriage had proved impossible, kissing Eloise was even more impossible than impossible. How was it that [Penelope] had accomplished the unlikeliest thing? Everything was upside-down and oh, she would associate late summer with Eloise forever and if she could be Lady Whistledown today, she could be near to El always.

With season 3 of Bridgerton (FINALLY) almost here, I recently reread this one! I'm so excited to see Polin in TV canon, but I had to write a lil Peneloise first. I love these girls and wanted to watch/make them fall in love. A very satisfying fic to write and read, if I do say so myself.

Tagging: All writers reading this! Hype your work! Luxuriate in it! You worked hard and you deserve it!

[useyourtelescope]

2021 Fanfic Year in Review

Thank you to @fericita-s​ for the tag! 😊

Total Completed Works: 23

Word Count: AO3 says 227,570 in 2021 though per discord’s writer-bot it was over 350,000 and I’d say a large chunk of that discrepancy is not stuff that isn’t finished yet but me rewriting my nonsense first-drafts.

Fandoms I’ve Written in: Bridgerton, Nancy Drew, Sanditon, Speed (1994), Ted Lasso, The 100 (TV) & 3 Georgette Heyer Novels 

Looking Back, Did You Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected?: More. I still didn’t finish some things I had wanted to but that was just me being over-ambitious, I had way more individual fics posted last year than I have before.

What’s Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year?: Hmmm, it’s hard to pick! Maybe my Bridgerton Polin Arranged Marriage AU If I Ever Dared because I was really pleased by how that all came together in the end.

Do You Have Any Fanfic Goals For The New Year?: Yes! Firstly, I have 2 lingering Bellarke prompts from last year that I need to complete, though have written a lot for one of those already. I also have a bunch of fics in various fandoms I’ve started that I’d like to complete. My faves are a Polin comedy-angst (if that is even a genre?) regency AU (I would love to have it posted before s2 of Bridgerton airs but I can’t quite figure out the ending for this one and I’m not really a ‘let’s see what happens’ writer so idk) and 2 shorter Sanditon Charlotte/Stringer fics (one modern AU, one regency). Other goals are dependent on whether I sign up for Fandom Trumps Hate again or not, I haven’t decided.

Most Popular Story Of The Year?: If I base it on kudos alone it would be Slow Hands, my regency version of the ‘walking in on someone’ trope for Polin, which I was v surprised by given the fic only got written to begin with because I got bored during a quarantine. 

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion: I wanna say my Speed fic, but it’s not exactly an active fandom so no surprise there? 

Most Fun Story To Write: Both the epistolary fic I wrote for Georgette Heyer’s Cotillion ‘Dispatches’ at the end of the year, and the texting modern AU fic I wrote for Polin week ‘what’s in a name?’ made me laugh a lot while writing. 

Most Unintentionally Telling Story: Either my Charlotte/Stringer hurt/comfort holiday fic ‘where the lovelight gleams’ or the angsty Bellarke modern AU ‘Delicate’ 🤔

Biggest Disappointment: Ehh, fanfic is for fun and not for lingering on any disappointments! 😊

Biggest Surprise: That I managed to finish so many things and keep them as one shots? 

Tagging: @excuseyouclarke​ @carrieeve​ @mylifeiskara​ And whoever wants to do it, feel free to tag me when you answer! 💕

[vilindeer]

Fic Writer Interview

Thanks so much for the tag @daphnejane !! 🥰🥰🥰 I am excited about answering this.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

Only 4️⃣.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

49,851 words. I am unable to write short things as you can see.

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I am currently only writing Bridgerton, especifically Polin, but before that I wrote for Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist (Zoey and Max). 

Can you tell I love friends to lovers ?😂😂

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Since I only have four you get all of my fics by kudos.

i.The Art of Agreements  My very first multichapter where I attempt to write a friends to lovers slow burn. It’s an arranged marriage Regency AU where Violet’s prodding about Penelope makes Colin reach different conclusions about his dearest friend and do that things he normally fails at called act!

It’s my magnum opus and I have the utmost care with how I write it since it’s very close to my heart.💍🐝🦋

ii.The Bear and Bunny Series This one is what I call my comfort fic because it’s supposed to be fun and sweet and a bit TATBILB inspired.📧

It consists on a series of snippets of Polin as modern childhood friends all the way to adulthood, specifically what their relationship looked like in high school and college. The main premise is based on answering the following question will Colin be able to get his bestie back after what he pulled in his senior year? And if so how and what’s next for them?🐻🐰

iii.Of Self Sabotage and Epiphanies This is canon divergence of Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist episode 1x08 where our protagonist actually listens to The Universe and sees her glitch for what it really is. I remember I had it stuck in my head and I had to put it on paper.

It’s my very first fic and I still love it very much not only for what represented but the friendships and moments it reminds me of. It also makes it clear I like to make my protagonists more self aware which is some kind of unforgivable offense to TV apparently. rolls my big beautiful brown eyes

iv.It’s beginning to look a lot like forever This is what I like to imagine as a lost moment in time before season 1 of Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist where we get a glimpse at the first stages of Zoey’s and Max’s friendships in their very first Christmas as friends.

All Zoey wants that Christmas is to figure out how to help Max with his family drama. Should be easy right?😉😉

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

ALWAYS! I absolutely love comments and they keep me going! Moreover, as someone who is an amateur writer that has mostly being a reviewer throughout my fandom endeavors I know how much it hurts to be vulnerable and comment and feel like you are screaming into the void. My reviewers will always get a reply (sometimes a bigger reply than their comment but we don’t talk about that since that shows who the real fangirl is). 

As a writer now I know how lonely it is not getting comments or kudos or any kind of feedback even if you are (as you should) solely writing for yourself and the people you care about so the reader- writer interaction means a lot.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I am not really big on angst (so far at least winks at the audience) but I reckon the ending of the last chapter of B&B is a bit ambiguous there is uncertainty and buried hurt and Colin is genuinely afraid there is no going back.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I haven’t so far and at the moment I don’t see any potential for it buuut never say never I guess.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I am lucky enough to confidently say no but I am also self aware enough to know it’s a matter of time if I keep writing.

Am I going to be absolutely destroyed ? YES!

Will I stop writing? Absolutely not.😊

9) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I am slowly dipping my toes into that pond. I have lots of ideas (and an outstanding support group) but the initial barrier is still here. But I do have smutty things in the works. Things I am trying not to over analyze or delete in a fit of crushing insecurity and self loathing.

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated.

I wish.

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

👀Who knows? 🤫

13) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I am incapable of choosing because what makes me love every one of them is too different to generalize.

14) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Ok clears throat and tests microphone I know I am terribly late at updating but nothing , let me repeat that again NOTHING is abandoned. I will finish my fics if it kills me.

By the way I just got kudos in AOA even though the last update was entirely too long ago and it makes me want to finish the chapter as fast as I can so thank you.

15) What are your writing strengths?

I feel like I am not qualified to answer that question but people tend to praise my descriptions and my word play so I guess that would be what I would go with.

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

DIALOGUE! I feel like I can never get my characters to sound human when they speak and I struggle a lot with it. I am also a terribly slow writer or more accurately I am a terribly inconstant writer I can write 20000 words in one go or a get stuck in a single sentence for an hour. 

I am also incredibly picky about the right word because it has to sound right in my head and that delays stuff.

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I always think it’s so cool when done right. As for doing it myself I have the perfect excuse with Colin because he is a traveler and what not but I will probably get stuck in the languages I am proficient at which are only 3. Since that is clearly not the right thing to do if I ever decide to do it I guess I will try to reach out to fans that are native speakers in order to bring some realism to it.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Zoey’s Extraordinary playlist and my beloved Clarkeman.

19) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Ooooooh I think it’s probably The Art of Agreements because I took a chance at a multichapter and I planed it all neatly and even though my posting schedule has been a mess I am proud of how I am conducting the story.

I will be tagging anyone that wants to do it because it’s fun and there might be some writers I don’t know reading this and I would love to read your answers. As for my peepz @jacquiebethelina44 , @ladylillianrose , @queenie-004 , @pichitinha @ladyjunebridgerton

[your3fundamentaltruths]

the pen's in my hand - 24. that boyish look that I like in a man

Set in the TV writers AU. You can find it on AO3.

He’s somehow blushing and smirking at the same time and it’s quite possibly the most endearing thing she’s ever seen.

[your3fundamentaltruths]

the pen's in my hand - 22. like my father

Set in the TV writers AU. You can find it on AO3.

Colin had made her first Mother’s Day perfect. Raised an already-high bar to the stratosphere. While she . . .   

. . . She left her shopping till the last minute. 

Why did she leave her Father’s Day shopping till the last minute?

Wherein Penelope navigates some complicated feelings about Father's Day as a new mom.

[your3fundamentaltruths]

the pen's in my hand - 20. meg's unrequited love theme

Set in the TV writers AU. You can find it on AO3.

The fact that she can put a Baylor Twist instrumental in her script and not be laughed out of the room because they’re not on a shoestring budget is something Penelope struggles to believe. She still has to pinch herself.

Wherein Penelope gets the last word.

[your3fundamentaltruths]

the pen's in my hand - 19. carpool karaoke (part 3)

Set in the TV writers AU. You can also find it on AO3.

“. . . 'Cause I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like anticipatin’ my face in a red flush  I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you Walk past, quick brush I don’t like slow motion, double vision in rose blush I don’t like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush Everybody wants you But I don't like a gold rush

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominoes My mind turns your life into folklore I can’t dare to dream about you anymore

At dinner parties, I won’t call you out on your contrarian shit And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it 'Cause it fades into the gray of my day-old tea 'Cause it will never be –“

“So who is he, Hy?” Pen asks matter-of-factly as she pauses the playlist before the next song.

Too many flashes in the sun means it’s of poor quality, Mother, she remembers overhearing Felicity explain in an overly patient tone in response to some inaudible comment of Portia’s at Colin and Pen’s engagement party. She’d made a mental note to remember that when presented with her own diamond someday.

Of course, she knows who won’t be doing that.

No one’s said anything in response to Pen’s questions and the silence is getting uncomfortable, even for her, which she suspects is the point. Pen has learned a thing or two from Hyacinth's mother over the years.

Pen turns slightly in the passenger seat to look at her and Lucy over her shoulder. That deceptively gentle look that can get you to spill your soul and all your secrets if you’re not careful. (She's usually pretty damn careful.)

She can see Francesca pointedly not react, eyes on the road. Convenient excuse not to engage, the traitor.

“I’m not fussed about who answers first,” Pen continues cheerfully.

She scowls, while Lucy just turns pinker and mumbles something meaningless.

She’s certainly not talking about it in front of bloody perfect Lucy.

Bloody perfect Lucy, who isn’t actually perfect at all. Who lets Hermione Watson walk all over her, who refuses to disabuse Gregory of the notion that he has a chance with her best friend when Hyacinth’s brother should be focused on her best friend, who is way too friendly with Felicity and Gareth (lets them both flirt with her when she’s too much of a mouse for either of them!), who –

Who is the worst. Lucy Abernathy is the worst and she doesn’t understand why no one in her family seems to see it. She isn’t sure she’ll forgive Francesca and Penelope for making her carpool with the girl and sit with her in the backseat. Ugh.

“Not to be heteronormative, of course,” says Pen. “Perhaps it’s she or they we’re discussing? Or they use other pronouns?”

“We’re not discussing anyone,” she snaps. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Nobody sings along to a song like that with that much feeling just because,” insists Pen.

She glares. “Says who?”

“Says me,” Pen answers wryly, “wondering if I’m seeing you two or the ghosts of our angsty younger selves.” She waves between Francesca and herself.

“Ugh, don’t,” she warns. “It’s not the same.”

“So there is someone,” says Francesca triumphantly.

Bloody hell.

“No one she likes back,” blurts out Lucy.

“But someone likes her?” Pen asks slowly.

She sees Lucy nod reluctantly out of the corner of her eye.

She whips her head around to face the bane of her existence when she finally reacts. “What?”

“Who?” demand Frannie and Pen in perfect unison, Francesca’s eyes flicking up in the rearview mirror.

Lucy’s practically magenta now. “I couldn’t say.”

“Lucy,” groans Penelope.

“You can’t leave us in suspense like this,” complains Francesca.

“I’m sorry. I really can’t say. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah, you bloody well should’t have," she mutters.

Bloody Lucy. Now it’s going to drive her mad, trying to figure out who Lucy could possibly mean so she can make clear her lack of interest.

There’s only one person she’s interested in and that person is very much not interested in her.

[your3fundamentaltruths]

the pen's in my hand - 9. talk dirty to me

Set in the TV writers AU. You can also find it on AO3.

“My God, I want you. I want to strip you bare and sink into you and never let you go. Oh, M –“

“Stop!” Penelope shouts with a wave of the hand, disgusted.

“I thought I did well,” Michael complains with an unconvincing faux-hurt expression.

“You could make the worst porny fanfic sound good,” she mutters.

Writing scenes that foreground sex and foreplay has never been the easiest part of her job. But she’s been steeped in the genre long enough as a reader and even as a writer that she can reasonably comfortably write Regency dirty talk.

So why is she struggling so much?

“It’s not you,” she continues.

It’s true. Michael is being a good sport. It’s not his job to help make sure her lines sound convincing. She’s supposed to hand him a complete script to work from and this is hardly that. He’s going above and beyond here, so she should make sure he knows that she knows he’s not the problem. “It’s the words. It’s –”

It’s me. It’s like he broke me.

“You don’t need to stroke my ego,” Michael interrupts, rolling his eyes. “We’re friends. Friends help friends just because.”

“Are we?” she teases.

“After all the whinging you’ve heard me do about –” He trails off.

She grins. “Oh, you mean Fr –”

Michael lunges across her beloved sofa and practically tackles her, slapping a hand over her mouth, as if the walls literally have ears. “Shh!” he hisses.

She laughs despite the hand still covering her mouth and six feet-something of very attractive Scot pinning her down.

Her laughter does the trick; Michael has very ticklish palms.

“Oh, is that Colin I hear?” she says theatrically as soon as she’s free, knowing bloody well that he’s gone for the day.

And she’s muzzled again. So dramatic Michael is! Now to think of something funny to –

“That you, Pen?” calls the absolute last voice she wants to hear just then and all thoughts of laughing fade away entirely.

Michael gives her a smug, satisfied smile.

She rolls her eyes.

Colin knocks on her door. “Pen?”

She’ll have to answer. She slaps Michael’s arm hard to get him to dislodge his hand.

“Oof!”

And she’s free.

“Pen!” Colin insists more loudly.

She sees the knob twisting not five seconds later. “I’m fine!” she calls at the same time as the door flies open to reveal a very worried-looking Colin.

The look of worry shifts to relief before his eyes go hard. “Yeah. Yeah.”

“I’m sorry I startled you,” she says apologetically.

“Maybe next time don’t yell when nothing’s the matter, yeah?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Michael says unnecessarily as he pushes himself up off her and moves down the couch so she can sit up, too.

“Oh, what does it look like?” Colin asks in an unnaturally pleasant voice.

“Being tackled by a guy straight out of Braveheart?” she jokes weakly, smoothing her skirt as she settles back into the cushions.

Colin gives her a distant smile, not quite looking her in the eye. ��I think you can take him. Remember S-I-N-G?”

“Of course.”

“Great,” he says, a little hoarsely. He nods. “Good night, Penelope. Michael.” He turns and walks back out, yanking the door closed behind him with unnecessary force before they can say anything more.

“That could’ve gone better,” she mumbles.

“Understatement of the century,” says Michael.

She tilts her head at him.

“As your friend, can I ask you why you’re testing out lines with me before getting notes from him?” He gestures with his head toward the once again-closed door that Colin just walked out. “Isn’t that the way this usually works?”

He knows damn well it is. “Yes, but . . .”

“But?”

“It just feels off lately.”

“And what’s it?”

“My writing.”

Michael raises a brow at her.

She shrugs helplessly. “Me. And Him. And everything.”

“So, you admit it,” he says quietly.

She bites her lip. “Admit what?”

“That things have been weird since we got back –” Michael’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Actually, since before we even left LA. You made Francesca switch seats with you for the flight,” he says slowly. “And as scintillating a companion as I know myself to be, we both know you didn’t do it for my sparkling conversation. You spent most of the flight drooling on my shoulder, sleeping off your hangover, after all. And things have been weird ever since.”

“Yeah, they have been,” she agrees quietly.

Then he asks the natural follow-up question: “Why?”

[your3fundamentaltruths]

the pen's in my hand - 17. carpool karaoke (part 1)

Set in the TV writers AU. You can also find it on AO3.

"She certainly got the more entertaining task: shepherding around her adult nieces and the might-as-well-be-a-niece birthday girl is infinitely better than being charged with the teens."

Or Georgie, nieces DEF, and Penelope on the way to the spa.

. . . She doesn’t get your humor like I do I’m in my room, it’s a typical Tuesday night –

She’s so focused on the road that, at first, she doesn’t notice she’s queued up exactly the wrong playlist for their drive to the spa. Way to pour salt in the wound they all pretend not to notice. Shit. “Sorry, that’s Allie’s playlist. Wanna pick something else, Daff?”

I’m listening to the kind of music she doesn’t like And she’ll never know your story like I do –

“Birthday girl’s choice, I think,” replies her niece. “Pick your poison, Pen,” she calls over her shoulder.

But she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers –

Despite being given first choice of passenger seat as the guest of honor, Penelope elected to sit in the backseat with Eloise and Francesca. “This is fine!” shouts Penelope over the sudden wind.

Yes, she splashed out on a convertible rental for the occasion. It’s been forever since she’s taken a road trip.

Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time

“Nothing better than B. Twist for a road trip sing-along,” Frannie yells after a silence that’s just a shade too long and, at that, they all jump in enthusiastically.

From Lennie down to Allie and Hyacinth (and can’t forget Felicity!), all her beloved girls are shameless Twisties.

“If you could see that I’m the one who understands you Been here all along, so why can’t you see? You belong with me, you belong with me . . .”

She finds herself smiling as she sees the girls rocking out in the back and Daphne beside her, ready to enjoy a responsibility-free day for the first time in ages, even though not a one of them can carry a tune. It’s utterly unfair that all the vocal talent in the family went to the men. (Except for poor Greg, who’s a tin ear like his aunts and sisters.)

Mama making pre-departure mimosas for those of them of age who wouldn’t be driving had absolutely been the right call.

(And packing them a cooler.)

“. . . Oh, I remember you driving to my house In the middle of the night I’m the one who makes you laugh When you know you're ‘bout to cry I know your favorite songs And you tell me ‘bout your dreams Think I know where you belong Think I know it’s with me . . .”

She certainly got the more entertaining task: shepherding around her adult nieces and the might-as-well-be-a-niece birthday girl is infinitely better than being charged with the teens.

Poor Violet. Poor Mama.

When they piled into their separate cars, Felicity was still half-asleep, Hyacinth almost growled when Violet suggested she run a brush through her hair, and Allie was scowling so hard into her travel mug that she nearly walked right into Violet’s car.

(Unfortunately, Allie is even less of a morning person than she is. Pity she doesn’t take after Nicholas that way.)

There are definite advantages to being the cool aunt, she concludes smugly as they wind their way down the motorway and through Allie’s playlist.

“. . .  Soon she’s gonna find Stealing other people’s toys on the playground Won’t make you many friends She should keep in mind, She should keep in mind There is nothing I do better than revenge, ha

I’m just another thing for you to roll your eyes at, honey You might have him, but haven’t you heard I’m just another thing for you to roll your eyes at, honey You might have him, but I’ll always get the last word Whoa –”

Just as she’s wondering whether she should be concerned about what exactly she’s allowing her daughter to listen to, Daphne interrupts her thoughts with a request to stop for a bathroom break and “refills!”

Eloise, Francesca, and Penelope cheer, “Refills! Refills! Refills!”

“Just try not to be completely off your faces by the time we arrive, girls,” she says wryly as she pulls into the next lay-by. “Violet will kill me. It’s a respectable resort, after all.”

[your3fundamentaltruths]

the pen's in my hand - 8. baby's first matchmaking

When Aunt Georgie contemplates her potentially grim future as a single woman, little Colin offers an obvious, Mummy-approved solution: marry your best friend.

Or the very early days of Colin Bridgerton, matchmaker extraordinaire.

Set in the TV writers AU. You can also find it on AO3.

—

“You’ll visit me at the home, won’t you?” Georgie asks her little nephew rhetorically as the movie credits roll.

Colin pulls away from where he’s cuddled against her on the couch to look up at her, brow wrinkling. “The home?” he echoes, sweetly confused.

“An old folks’ home. When I live there,” she sighs.

“But Daddy is older than you and he doesn’t live in an old folks’ home.”

She snorts a laugh.

Colin gives her an impatient look.

Oh dear, she didn’t mean to sound like she was laughing at him. “People only live in old folks’ homes when they’re as old as Granny and Grandpa.”

“But Granny and Grandpa don’t live in an old folks’ home.”

She sighs. “Because they have family to live with.”

Colin frowns. “You have family. You have us,” he says indignantly.

“There’s different types of family. Like I have parents and brothers and a sister like you do and nieces and nephews because my brothers and sister got married to their wives and husband and had a few little monsters –” She tickles him. “That they like to call children.”

Colin giggles but he quickly squirms away, his little face still scrunched in thought. He’s clearly not done with the topic.

She manages to resist the impulse to sigh at his tenacity. Just like a Bridgerton. “But because I’m not married, l don’t have a husband to live with like Granny and Grandpa or your mummy and daddy, Aunt Billie and Uncle George, or Aunt Winnie and Uncle Hugo. Or children.”

“But –”

She sighs again. Why did she decide to whinge to her most inquisitive nibling?

Because the youngest is asleep.

No, it’s because he’s your favorite and you know it. If you want anybody to visit you when you’re old and gray and alone, it’s this one.

Colin is already just like his father, which means he’ll probably have a happy little family to bring out to see her if he can be arsed to do so.

God, that’s a depressing thought.

Why did she agree to babysit again?

So that her favorite sister-in-law can have a nice break before her new (fifth!) baby comes. Because she is a good sister and friend, she reminds herself firmly.

Just because she’s likely to die alone doesn’t give her license not to be there for the people she does have in her life, no matter how much their marital and familial bliss makes her mildly panicky about her own future.

Not because Edmund roped Nicholas into it and Nicholas, who is currently upstairs arbitrating a dispute between Anthony and Benedict, didn’t want to deal with four children alone and played bloody dirty.

(Definitely because of Nicholas playing very, very dirty.)

—

“They’re not even my niblings,” Nicholas complains plaintively when she first refuses to spend the entirety of the weekend helping him care for Edmund and Violet’s little terrors.

It doesn’t do the trick. Nor had what kind of best friend are you? “They call you uncle and one of them is your godson and your namesake.”

“I’m convinced Edmund did that solely to wrangle free babysitting and medical advice out of me for life,” he mutters, even as he still gets fidgety and sweetly awkward at the reminder of just how much her brother values their friendship.

She shrugs innocently from her perch on top of the kitchen table, swinging her legs casually as she watches him serve up their eggs after turning off the stove. “Well, he didn’t ask me, he asked you, so that’s that.”

Nicholas grumbles.

“Besides, I think there are more interesting things we could be doing than talking about my family.”

“Is it the talk part or the family part?” Nicholas murmurs slyly, clearly catching her drift but carefully not turning to look at her as he adds bacon, mushrooms, and toast to their plates.

“You know which part,” she mumbles, cheeks flushing, still a bit embarrassed about giving voice to what she wants despite the fact that they’ve been doing this – whatever this is – for a while now.

“Do I?”

“You do know,” she says tartly. “And, if you knew what was good for you,” she continues, surprising herself with the boldness Nicholas always seems to bring out in her, “you’d put your mouth to better use.”

“And what use is that?” he asks huskily.

“Putting it on me.”

He sets the plates he’d just been about to bring to the kitchen table back down on the counter with a gratifying clatter before turning to face her, eyes darkened nearly to navy, flaring with desire. In a blink, he’s standing in front of her at the kitchen table, between the legs she hadn’t even realized she’d spread. “Where on you?” He licks his lips, hands hovering just above her thighs, not quite touching her.

She looks up at him from beneath her lashes. “Why don’t you remind me of my options?” She reaches out and traces the curve of his lips with her thumb. “Very specifically. Leave nothing out.”

Eyes locked and burning on hers, he nods.

—

And he had.

God, had he . . .

Damn the bastard for being as brilliant at dirty talk as he is at doctoring.

(And even more brilliant at following through with his promises. She knows this weekend will be worth her while.)

It’s becoming a problem, because her reaction to his competence – in any setting – is practically Pavlovian nowadays.

In fact, just this afternoon, she shoved him into the laundry room as soon as the kids were parked in front of the TV after lunch – during which he got Daphne, presently the pickiest eater ever to live, not only to stop whinging about the menu but also to thank her for the meal.

“– you should marry Uncle Nick!” says Colin triumphantly.

Brought abruptly back to the present, she chokes on air. “I beg your pardon?”

A knowing look.

Colin couldn’t have heard them in the laundry, could he? Dear God, what if they’ve scarred him for life? “Why do you say that, darling?” she asks uneasily.

“If you get married, you won’t have to go to an old folks’ home, right?”

She nods warily.

“And Mummy says you should marry your best friend. Uncle Nick is your best friend. So you should marry Uncle Nick.”

She blinks. Her first reaction is relief that they haven’t scarred him for life. Her second is what the actual bloody hell is he on about?

It’s true, but that’s hardly enough reason to marry Nicholas, who is, well, Nicholas –

A sputter from behind her. Damn it. “Don’t let your father hear you say that, buddy,” Nicholas says once he recovers his composure.

She laughs, relieved he’s not making it weird. Making fun of how possessive Edmund is of “his” best friend is always safe ground.

Colin only rolls his eyes.

She shivers just a little. Colin may be Edmund’s mini-me, but it’s uncanny how much he looks like Violet just then.

“How about some ice cream?” Nicholas asks with a wink, the only suitable distraction for the far-too-clever-five-year-old she's not managed to tucker out.

Colin nods eagerly. Truly his father's son.

“Only,” says Nicholas pointedly, “if you promise you’ll brush your teeth and go to bed without a fuss right after.”

Colin nods solemnly.

Nicholas holds out a pinky. Ah, the sacred pinky promise.

They lock pinkies.

—

“You pinky promised!” cries Nicholas twenty minutes later, sounding as betrayed as if Colin had committed treason.

“You didn’t say no story, you said no fussing,” argues Colin, arms crossed over his chest, after they’ve tucked him into bed. “I’m not fussing, Uncle Nick. I just want my story. Daff got a story.”

“Daff went to sleep an hour ago,” Nicholas mutters, but Colin’s technically not wrong, so they sigh, pick a short book, and hop to it, one bedtime story all that’s standing between them and Nicholas making good on some of those promises.

[your3fundamentaltruths]

the pen's in my hand - 18. carpool karaoke (part 2)

Set in the TV writers AU. You can also find it on AO3.

Georgie, Eloise, Francesca, and a very hungover Penelope on the way to a wedding.

“Wait, I love this one.” Georgie, who's been charged with shuttling the three of them around for the day.

“You do eat up that friends-to-lovers shit, don't you?” Eloise, who makes a disgusted noise.

“Eloise Ophelia Bridgerton, language,” Georgie sighs.

Eloise sighs, too, sounding precisely like her aunt.

“And yes, I do.”

Eloise sighs again. “You can turn it up, Pen’s still dead to the world.”

No, she wishes she were and her supposed best friend is a monster who likely wants someone to share in her hungover suffering.

She can’t have been asleep for more than 20 minutes; it’s not that long of a drive.

Why, oh why, did they go so hard on the pre-drinks last night?

Georgie turns up the volume just loud enough for her to hear.

. . . Small talk, he drives Coffee at midnight The light reflects the chain on your neck He says, “Look up” And your shoulders brush No proof, one touch, but you felt enough –

“She’s going to need to eat eventually.” Francesca, disgustingly cheery.

Just like Colin. Bloody arseholes, both of them.

“Best she does it while her coffee’s still hot,” continues Francesca.

Fine, she can maybe forgive Frannie for being constitutionally incapable of hangovers if she’s providing food and drink.

“There’s coffee?” she croaks.

“Ah, ah, ah,” chides Georgie, sounding just like her husband. “First the Powerade, then the coffee and bacon butty and follow it up with water and paracetamol.”

The usual hangover cure. She knows it works, but it sounds like so much work.

“Otherwise, you’ll be miserable the rest of the day.”

And Sophie is no bridezilla, but even the most easygoing of brides won’t like a zombie bridesmaid.

Which means Posy – who is a full-blown Maid of Honorzilla because everything has to be perfect for her beloved sister’s big day – will kill her.

. . . Morning, his place  Burnt toast, Sunday You keep his shirt; he keeps his word –

“I feel a little better already and I only just took the paracetamol,” chimes in Eloise, who does sound like something approaching human. “Might even be up for one of Granny's mimosas later.”

“Hair of the dog isn’t actually advisable, you know,” says Georgie mildly.

“Pfft.”

Georgie should know better than trying to say that to one of her niblings. They all swear by it.

She cracks one eye open.

Francesca is looming over her, brandishing a Powerade Zero.

“Best if you chug,” advises Georgie matter-of-factly.

Eloise sniggers. Well, if she’s sniggering, she really must be improved.

“Here goes nothing,” she mutters, twisting the cap to find Francesca already opened it for her. Characteristically thoughtful of her.

. . . One night, he wakes Strange look on his face Pauses, then says, “You’re my best friend”  And you knew what it was, he is in love –

“This is way too slow for carpool karaoke,” she hears Eloise complain before skipping to the next song on shuffle, just as she’s finishing her Powerade.

The moon is high Like your friends were the night that we first met Went home and tried to stalk you on the Internet Now I’ve read all of the books beside your bed –

Not “Paper Rings.”

Normally, she loves “Paper Rings,” but right now?

Right now, she wants to scream, because she has no idea what the hell kind of instruments are involved, but they sound like bloody cymbals.

I’ll kill her, she silently vows to herself. “You’re a monster, Eloise Bridgerton,” she moans before snatching the bacon butty out of Francesca’s hand and inhaling it between gulps of coffee.

—

As usual, Georgie’s hangover cure is so effective that Penelope’s singing along and breaking it down on the dance floor with the best of them that night, feeling brand new all the way through the afterparty when they play all the hits with explicit lyrics that would make Great-Aunt Ruth swoon if she hadn’t already called it a night.

I’ve been waitin’ for this one Turn it up!

“Yes, I have!” she shouts at Eloise and Francesca over the music.

Slow songs, they for skinny hoes Can’t move all of this here to one of those I’m a thick bitch, I need tempo  Fuck it up to the tempo . . .

Michael leans into their little circle. “By special request, Featherington. Do I get a thank you?”

Pitty-pat, pitty-pat, pitty-pitty-pat  Look at my ass, it's fitty-fitty-fat

She blows a kiss at him.

Kitty cat, kitty cat, kitty-kitty cat Prrr me a glass, boy, I like my water wet . . .

[your3fundamentaltruths]

the pen's in my hand - 15. under the mistletoe (part 1)

Set in the TV writers AU. You can also find it on AO3.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Edmund asks.

Colin points up.

“Mistletoe.”

“What’s that?” Colin repeats.

“When you’re standing under it with somebody else, you have to kiss them,” Violet explains.

He feels a tug on the hem of his sweater and nearly jumps, but manages not to move or make a noise through sheer force of will.

“Dad?”

He looks down.

“Dad?” insists Colin, tugging at his sweater again when he says nothing.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “Ellie’s just dropped off.”

After at least an hour’s effort, Eloise is asleep. He cannot bungle this.

He’s been walking with her up and down the hall, hoping that would do the trick, rather than stay in the nursery while she screamed; Frannie falls asleep quickly, easily, if the nursery is quiet.

He’s shocked his older children have managed to sleep through the racket.

Well, most of them, he thinks with a sigh as he looks down at Colin, who looks far too awake for this hour, all wide eyes and dried milk mustache, shamelessly nibbling at the iced ginger biscuit in his other hand.

The leftover biscuits are supposed to be kept out of reach of little hands after everyone has their pudding, but he suspects their housekeeper leaves a few where Colin will find them. He sighs to himself.

He’s tired. He’s so tired, but that’s exactly why he needs to give his youngest son the time of day – er, night. They haven’t had much energy left for their older kids lately and it’ll be good for him to make the time for Colin. Like Violet’s prize flowers without enough sun, Colin wilts without enough attention and he’s gotten precious little of that lately.

He’s not sure what possessed them to chance it and go for a fifth in hopes of giving Daff a sister . . .  as if they hadn’t already had their hands full.

Then they’d gotten two for the price of one.

Twins.

Which they didn’t discover until the birth, God help them.

—

He tries to stay calm for Violet’s sake; otherwise, he’d revert to the old bad boyhood habit of biting his nails from the anxiety, fretting over how early the baby is coming.

He faints when the midwife says there’s another baby coming.

He, an old hand at this thing after four births, faints.

Naturally, once he has the presence of mind to do so, he makes Violet promise not to tell anyone.

A promise she keeps for all of three hours. After they sort out the long-distance call to Georgie’s flat in Edinburgh, it’s the second thing out of her mouth after his sister comes to the phone.

“Hello! Yes, yes, I’m fine, thanks! Will you put Georgie on?”

He frowns slightly in confusion.

Nicholas, she mouths.

He raises a brow.

Expression eloquent, she nods slightly. I know, she mouths. She laughs. “You are not, but I want to talk to my sister!”

It always warms his heart that his wife and his favorite sister are so close.

“Twins!” announces Violet. “I know. I know, I was, too. Girls. Eloise Ophelia and Francesca Alexandra,” Violet says quickly. “And Edmund fainted!” she adds gleefully.

He glares.

Violet shrugs, giving him that sunny, slightly impish smile Daff inherited from her, and he just can’t be cross with her.

After all, she did just give him these two precious girls, he thinks, looking down at the bassinets, and they will probably have that same sweet smile.

—

“Don’t move. Let me put Ellie down,” he whispers.

Please let her stay asleep, he entreats whatever deity might be listening. Miraculously, for once, his plea is granted.

Eloise looks so peaceful asleep that it’s hard to believe what an unholy terror she is when she’s awake.

Cautiously, he closes the nursery door behind him.

—

He pads carefully down the stairs and finds Colin waiting, sat on one of the steps near the bottom, blinking sleepily.

“Want a story?” he offers.

Colin perks up at that, nodding so quickly that his chest aches a little.

“May I join?” asks Violet softly from the top of the stairs, surprising him. He assumed she would’ve fallen back asleep by now.

“How about we do it in our room?”

He picks up a decidedly flagging Colin, who clings to him trustingly. “You’re getting heavy, mate,” he teases quietly.

Colin scowls a little. “Am not.” But he doesn’t lift his head from Edmund’s shoulder.

It won’t be long before he turns standoffish, he thinks sadly. More independent, more self-reliant, less openly affectionate. It’s part of growing up, he supposes. That doesn’t mean he’s looking forward to it.

But he has some time left and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make the most of it.

“What’s that?” Colin mumbles when they reach the intermediate landing.

“What’s what?” he asks.

Colin points up.

He looks up. Oh. “Mistletoe,” he answers.

Violet always includes a few strategic sprigs in their holiday décor. He certainly doesn’t mind the excuse to kiss his lovely wife.

Not that he needs one.

“What’s that?” Colin repeats.

“When you’re standing under it with somebody else, you have to kiss them,” Violet explains quietly when they’re at the upper landing. She places a gentle kiss on Colin’s forehead and then leans over to plant one on him, right on the lips.

Colin makes a slightly disgusted noise at the kiss happening above him, quick as it is.

“Hush, you,” he laughs softly, kissing the top of his son’s head with an exaggerated smack.

Colin makes another disgusted sound, but he can’t hide the fact that he loves having their undivided attention, sighing contentedly.

He’s asleep three sentences into his story, curling into Violet’s side in slumber.

—

“Come look at the babies,” demands Colin when their prodigals arrive for Christmas, just as soon as Nicholas and Georgie have dropped their bags and exchanged hellos and hugs with those of the family presently gathered.

Colin smiles beatifically up at his godparents and they don’t think twice before following, not the slightest bit suspicious.

They should be. They know better. What happens next is entirely their own fault.

“Stop!”

Confused, they do.

Standing just ahead of them, one step above them on the staircase, just out of the line of fire, Colin stops short and points upward.

Right at the mistletoe.

Right at the mistletoe, which Nicholas and Georgie are now standing under.

Georgie looks like a deer in headlights and Nicholas looks little more composed.

Colin crosses his arms and taps his foot. “Mummy says you’re supposed to kiss,” he scolds impatiently.

He should probably be frightened by how clever the boy is, but mostly he’s proud of his little schemer.

Nicholas finally leans in, but Georgie turns her head and kisses his cheek instead.

“Do it right!” pipes up Daphne. She looks up at them expectantly.

No one shushes her or says it’s unnecessary. No, the rest of them are equally shameless, refusing to return to whatever it was they were doing before Colin trapped Nicholas and Georgie under the mistletoe until they’re satisfied with the effort.

Finally resigned to the fact that they’re not going to get out of a proper kiss in front of both their families, the pair of them really commit.

And it looks so natural and effortless that he knows it’s not the first time, not by a long shot.

There’s part of him that wants to cheer and punch the air and part of him that has to suppress the urge to sigh. He’s going to have to have a talk with Nicholas, isn’t he? Not that he thinks it’s necessary, but the formalities must be fulfilled. Best friend or no, he wouldn’t be a very good older brother if he failed to do so.

When it’s over, Anthony says what every single one of them who just watched that lip lock is thinking. “You’ve been practicing!” he cries accusingly, before leveling a venomous glare at Nicholas.

(Poor, poor Daff, Ellie, and Frannie. Anthony will be far worse than he ever could be.)

He should probably teach his children better manners. How you shouldn’t always say everything you’re thinking.

But it’s so bloody funny when they do.

Mama, Billie, and Helen hide their smiles behind their hands.

Georgie’s face floods with color till you can’t tell where it ends and her hair begins; Nicholas is sputtering incoherently.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Anthony,” Georgie finally says shrilly. “Of course we haven’t been!”

“Of course not,” George agrees blandly, utterly unconvinced.

“Why would we?” Georgie insists, not very much less shrilly.

“Yes, why ever would you?” Violet echoes innocently.

Georgie makes an inarticulate noise.

“The twins,” Nicholas chokes out before anyone else gets the chance to weigh in. “The nursery. Let’s go to the nursery.”

“C’mon,” says Colin cheerfully, sounding just as smug as he’s entitled to be.

[your3fundamentaltruths]

Set in the TV writers AU.

Wherein Penelope is (very) pregnant and Colin is (very) overprotective on set.

“Penelope Featherington Bridgerton, don’t you run away from me!” Colin calls after her.

“Run? I can barely walk,” she retorts without looking back at him.

Happy Polin Week! Life got in the way, but this one’s for

DAY THREE: Favorite Kiss / Modern AU / Hurt Comfort Angst

and, if you squint,

DAY ONE: Favorite Quote / Pen Pals / Secret Admirers

[your3fundamentaltruths]

the pen's in my hand - 4. options

Wherein Colin is displeased to be the last to know about vow renewals – but rather pleased about something else he learns along the way.

Set in the TV writers AU and inspired by this Tumblr post. You can also find it on AO3.

In honor of one Penelope Anne Featherington's 225th birthday 🥳 and also, belatedly, the SAGs.

“I can’t marry her any harder, I’ve Googled it many times!” Colin yells, sounding miffed that anyone would think he wouldn’t already have done it if it were an option.

“Good news, babe!” Colin announces as he walks into the living room.

“Shh.” Penelope jerks her head down at their sleeping toddler, curled up on one side of her and using her thigh as a very comfortable pillow. Their dog, who’s been a stage five clinger lately, is slumbering on her other side, one of his paws resting possessively on her.

“Sorry,” Colin whispers, carefully sitting down on their daughter’s side and carding his fingers gently through her baby-fine curls.

Meanwhile, Arlo half-snuffles, half-growls in his sleep.

“Traitor,” Colin mutters, eying Arlo crossly. Nowadays, it’s hard to believe that Arlo was his dog first. “Anyway, good news.”

“You loved the book as much as I did and think we should option it?” she whispers back hopefully.

He shakes his head.

"What? It's brilliant," she protests.

He sighs impatiently. “No, you're right, I did, and yeah we should, but can we talk about it later? I've got something really important to tell you."

"More important than our literal livelihoods?" she asks skeptically.

"Yes," he says firmly. "Remember that time I said I’d Googled it and I couldn’t marry you any harder?”

“Yeeeessss,” she says slowly. “You were very drunk.”

To be fair, they’d both been pretty drunk . . .

—

They’re in New Orleans for Mardi Gras when another tourist, a woman a few years younger than Penelope, flashes them for beads.

Colin, who was in the middle of saying something characteristically sweet, doesn’t even pause or blink, acting as if he simply doesn’t see the unfairly perky, likely-surgically-enhanced breasts that have just materialized in front of them, as if they’re nothing more than a figment of Penelope’s imagination.

As if he can see nothing but her.

Once the very pretty, very shapely owner of said breasts gets over her shock at being ignored, she shrugs, pulls down her shirt, and cheerfully shouts, “Ooh, honey, that one’s a keeper! If you don’t marry him, I will!”

“I know, we’re already married!” Penelope calls back proudly.

“Marry him again!” giggles their fellow tourist.

“I can’t marry her any harder, I’ve Googled it many times!” Colin yells, sounding miffed that anyone would think he wouldn’t already have done it if it were an option.

“Aww, bless your heart and your adorable little accent, darlin’. Laissez les bon temps rouler!” their new friend calls over her shoulder in farewell before stumbling off in search of beads.

—

“Well,” Colin says with great satisfaction, “I was wrong.”

She never in a thousand years thought that she would hear any Bridgerton say those words in that tone. “What do you mean?”

“We can renew our vows,” he informs her, looking as smug as their daughter did the first time she climbed out of her crib.

“Right,” she says without inflection.

Colin’s eyes narrow. “Penelope Featherington Bridgerton, did you already know about vow renewals?” he asks accusingly.

“Yeeeessss,” she says slowly. “You didn’t?”

“Of course not!” he whisper-shouts. “Don’t you think I would’ve wanted one already if I did? Do you even know me? I mean, look at me!”

She stifles a smile.

He’s wearing a gag gift t-shirt that proudly proclaims him Wife Guy.

(The gift included a matching shirt for her labeled The Wife. It’s tucked in the back of the drawer alongside her fading university tees.)

“Why didn’t you tell me, Pen?”

“We’re already married, Colin,” she reminds him overly patiently.

“Are you trying to keep your options open?” insists her dear, darling, human-embodiment-of-the-heart-eyes-emoji himbo husband very seriously.

“Yes, this is the look of a woman trying to keep her options open,” she replies, gesturing dramatically at herself – hair in a messy bun, glasses, no makeup, the drool and dog hair on her raggedy sweatpants the cherry on top of her slouchy, sleepy, feeling-sickish Saturday night attire.

“You’re perfect,” Colin says loyally.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re contractually obligated to say that, Wife Guy. Others beg to differ.”

He scoffs. “The butcher seemed pretty keen to chat you up this afternoon.”

She nudges him companionably. “The butcher was telling me that the bakery section had my favorite brioche in stock. He very proudly informed me that his boyfriend the baker told him so.”

“Hmph. He could be bi, you know.”

“Even if he is, he’s not single. And even if he were, I’m not, so it’d be irrelevant.”

”An and he doesn’t hold a candle to you, babe would’ve been nice, you know.”

She rolls her eyes again. “Oh, hush, you.”

Colin pouts. A grown man, pouting. Ridiculous.

“You’re lucky you’re cute and we make adorable babies.”

She can almost hear Colin’s brain grind to a halt as his eyes widen.

“Pen?” he asks very, very softly.

She nods rapidly, smiling but feeling oddly nervous until he grins, impossibly bright.

”Pen,” he says again, hushed and awed, eyes shining. “That’s – that’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

“So much for keeping my options open,” she teases.

Colin laughs good-naturedly and so does she until he leans over and kisses her, whispering "I love you so much" as he rests his forehead against hers.

When he kisses her again, one hand stealing down to rest gently, reverently, on her belly, all hell breaks loose.

It’s that small motion of all things that startles Arlo awake and straight into yowling and batting irritably at Colin with his front paws, Colin pausing mid-kiss to growl back at him, while, miraculously, the pup’s human counterpart sleeps through it all – a skill she’ll find very useful as a big sister.

It’s chaos, but Penelope wouldn’t trade it for anything.