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velvetthunder1999 · 4 years

Text

All the time on Earth

Part 4 - Butterbeer Moments

Summary: You start to spend more and more time with George, and the two of you slowly start to getting to know each other

Warnings: None

Word count: 2.4K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

- Edited for grammar -

The three of you were sitting in the common room, leaning over the same piece of parchment on the table. Fred was doodling the last line of numbers on the bottom, while you and George were watching him with great anticipation.

“Finished!” Fred dropped the quill and tossed the parchment towards you “What do you think? Brilliant, if you ask me.”

You took the paper and looked over the numbers. You bit your lip, frowning.

“Oi, she doesn’t like it!” exclaimed Fred.

“Or she just cannot read your rubbish handwriting,” answered George to his brother, not taking his eyes off you. “Y/N? How is it?”

“It’s — not bad.”

“Not bad?” Fred was over the top acting offended. “This is the best price-product ratio there is!”

“Well, not exactly,” you said, pointing at the paper. “Look, here. You are offering one piece of Ton-Tongue Toffee for a galleon and a fake wand for three. But the Toffees take much more effort and money to manufacture than the wand.”

“So what are you saying?” asked George. “We can’t raise the price. Otherwise they won’t sell.”

“I’m saying if you wanna keep the price, try combine the two. Have you thought about releasing a booklet? People collect... let’s say ten signitures from you, one after every puchase and they’d get 10% off the next thing they buy. Sell the booklets individually for two galleons but put them in the box with the Toffees and the wand for free. Sell the boxes for five. Then people would buy it more and you get more money for some extra paper. You’ll make profit.”

The twins were staring at you, unusually quiet. You were quite satisfied with yourself. You were only thinking in the way you usually do when running your own business. It worked out for you, three years of success and counting. You didn’t mind helping out Fred and George, since they didn’t sell anything similar to the stuff you were selling.

“Well?” you asked impatiently. “What do you think?”

“You make it so complicated yet so easy” said Fred.

“George?”

“I like it. We can make more money but still not cheating our customers. It’s clean.”

“Yeah, all right,” Fred took the quill again and started writing. “Five galleons you say? Good. I’m showing it to Lee, ask what he’s thinking.”

He snitched the parchment and walked over to the window where Lee and Angelina were talking. You smiled at George and gathered your stuff.

“Well, I have to go to the library. Need to write my Charms essay.”

“To the library?” asked George, distraught. “It’s the middle of the winter break!”

“Well, some of us have to study for the exams, you know.”

“But you’re coming to the New Year’s Eve party tomorrow, right?”

“Of course I’m coming,” you said, putting your bag on your shoulders. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” —— You were playing Exploding Snap with Ginny by the window when you heard a loud cheer from the middle of the common room. It didn’t take you by surprise to see Fred standing on the table, juggling empty butterbeer bottles while George was standing by, raising his wand, navigating more and more glasses into his brother’s hand.

“It’s almost midnight,” Ginny said. “You want a drink?”

“Sure.”

She put down her cards and went to grab two glasses, but her seat didn’t stay empty for long. George left Lee the responsibility to throw the glasses at Fred, and sat down next to you instead.

“I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here alone,” he grinned. “But it’s all right now, I’m here to save you.”

“Yes, thank you for saving me from thirty seconds of loneliness,” you laughed, but let out a soft shriek when all the cards exploded on the table.

George picked them up and organized them into one pack. “Actually, I came here to ask you if you wanted to place a bet. The next task is almost here, you know.”

“Yesterday you scolded me for studying during the winter break but now you wanna talk about business?” you teased him. He seemed to like it when you did that.

“C’mon Y/N, business is different than some essay.”

“Wait, so asking for my money is always appropriate?” you pushed his shoulder playfully.

“All right, what about leaving the money out of it? Place your bet, and if you win I buy you a butterbeer at Hogsmeade after the task.”

“Please don’t let him make you gambling, Y/N,” said Ginny, returning with the drinks. She shot a suspicious look at her brother. “You’re not asking her to place bets, are you?

“It’s all right Ginny, George wouldn’t win a sickle from me if I didn’t let him,” you smiled at the boy, who was now leaning closer.

“But the Hogsmeade bet is on?”

“Yeah, sure. One butterbeer on Harry finishing first. Deal?” you offered your hand but when he shook it you felt your stomach jump.

“Deal. Grab your glasses ladies, it’s almost a brand new year!”

George had a really fun night after that, but sometimes he’d catch himself staring at you. He wasn’t sure what it was yet. You two had only been talking for a week and a half after all. Although, he enjoyed talking to you. You always seemed to match his cheerful tone, and you didn’t mind when he was joking around.

He shouted happy new years to you one more time when you decided to go to sleep. You waved him goodbye and he felt that nice warm feeling in his chest again. Was it so wrong, making new friends? He didn’t think so.

——

The next morning everyone woke up a bit late, and the majority of the students decided to hit the library, using the last day of the winter break to prepare for the next week’s classes. George however, had a different idea.

“Please Y/N,” begged the boy. “You already did all your homework. We should just go down to Hogsmeade, really.”

“I don’t know George, I’m really tired,” you said, massaging your temple. You didn’t get much sleep last night. “What about next weekend?”

“We should really do it this weekend,” said Fred, butting in. “We need to ask at Zonko’s if they’d sell our products. And at Honeydukes, too.”

“And why do you need me for that?”

“Well, you and the less handsome twin could talk to one place, me and Lee to the other. Meet up at the Three Broomsticks?”

George threw a pillow at Fred, but agreed to the idea. You also said yes, knowing that you’d just lie on the couch all day anyway.

The four of you headed down to the village, Fred and George walking up front while you were talking with Lee behind them. Then when the first houses started to show, you went separate ways.

“I shouldn’t have dressed this warm” you said, getting rid of your scarf. “It’s really hot today.”

“Yeah, I know” answered George, pointing at the ground. “Snow’s melting already.”

“Good. I don’t like snow.”

He stopped in his tracks, staring at you like he had just seen a ghost.

“What did you say?”

“What? I don’t like it.” you said. “It just makes walking so much harder.”

“All right now, stop,” he said, shaking his head while started walking again. “There’s nothing better than a good ol’ snowfight!”

“Yeah? So winter’s your favorite, then?”

“Yeah — No,” he shrugged, smile on his face. “I like every season for something else. You? I’m guessing winter’s a taboo.”

“I like winter — from the indoors,” you tried to save yourself. “Watching the snow from someplace where it can’t touch you. But I like autumn. It means school is starting again.”

“Well, that was an incredibly horrible thing to say.”

“What? Why?”

He started mocking you playfully.

“School is starting again!”

You pretended to be offended, then continued in a genuine tone.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like being here.”

“No, I like being here.”

“Then what?”

He hesitated.

“Well, mum, you know.”

“No, I don’t know. Tell me.”

He glanced at you. You didn’t want to push him, though.

“Or don’t. If you don’t want to.”

“It’s all right. It’s just that — that mum really tries to push us. She wants us to study hard, work in the Ministry like Percy. But it’s not for us. Not for me and Fred, anyway.”

“So what do you wanna do?”

You still had two years left of Hogwarts, but you knew how hard it was to decide what you wanted to do later.

“Well — er — ” it was the first time you saw a shy smile on George’s face. “We want to open a joke shop.”

“Like Zonko’s?”

“Almost. Only bigger and better than that. With more pizzazz.”

“Yeah, I can see you doing that. I mean, if you keep making those Nosebleed things — and they actually work...” you gave him a snarky look and he laughed “...then why not do it? You’re not gonna be able to work for the Ministry if you just hate every minute of it.”

“Exactly.”

He nodded ceremoniously before opening the door to Honeydukes. He let you go in first, then you two headed straight to the cash register. While George was haggling, you were staring out the window, watching the street behind the shop. Just as you were turning away, you saw a huge black dog crossing the sidewalk. You were quite fond of dogs, so you followed it with your eyes until it disappeared behind a dumpster.

“All right, we’re ready,” said George, claiming your attention for himself again. “Three Broomsticks?”

“Let’s go,” you agreed, walking out the shop. “So, what did she say?”

“She said she’d talk to his husband, but she seemed to be interested. We should come back next week, though.”

“That’s a good start.”

Fred and Lee were not around yet so you sat down to one of the tables in the corner. You ordered two butterbeers and you finally got rid of your warm coat, after it turned out to be such an unnecessary item on this bright day.

“So what about the rest of your family?” you asked. “You said Percy is working at the Ministry.”

“Yeah, my dad also. He collects muggle items, too.”

“Really?”

“Well, more like garbage, actually,” he laughed. “Dad loves muggles. Finds them interesting. Mum thinks he’s mad, but — ” he shrugged “— it’s a hobby, you know.”

“And what about your other siblings? Charlie was just finishing in the year I was sorted.”

“Yeah, he works in Romania now. Studies dragons there. He brought the ones for the first task, too.”

“What, really?” your jaw dropped, then you took a sip. “Well, he clearly deserves all the money he’s earning cause that seems to be the most dangerous job I’ve ever heard of.”

George laughed then he drank, too.

“Yeah, and my other brother works in Egypt. Have you been?”

“Not really.”

“We visited him a year ago, it was amazing. Dad won a prize at the Ministry so we had the mon — er — we had the time to visit everything. Fred and I tried to lock Percy in a pyramid but mum didn’t let us.”

“I wonder why,” you giggled at the sight of his reminiscing face. “So what else did you do there — other than torturing your brother, of course?”

He told you everything about ‘one of his best summers’ as he called it, and you didn’t mind just listening, watching him talk. If two weeks ago someone had said to you that you’re gonna be here sitting with George Weasley, you wouldn’t see the point in that at all. But in this moment it felt like one of the most natural things you could do.

“Do you need another one?” George asked you as your drinks slowly started to run out. You hesitated, glanced at Madam Rosmerta, then turned back to George.

“If I do something will you tell on me?”

“What?” George asked, curious.

You checked the bar again, then took out your wand and held it under the table. You pointed at the glasses, said the refilling charm non-verbally, then watched how the glasses were full of butterbeer again a second later.

You looked at George, a shy expression on your face. You didn’t know what he was gonna say.

“I don’t always do this,” you started. “And I always pay for the first one. But sometimes money just runs short and I can’t always do something about it.”

You casted your eyes down. Suddenly you weren’t sure sharing your secret was a good idea. But George understood.

“No, I get it. I don’t always have much money either. I know it’s — mum and dad do the best they can but, you know — there’s a lot of us” he nodded.

“That’s why you’re trying to sell your fake wands?”

“Mm. Any way is a good way if it makes money. How did you do it, though?”

“Did what?”

“The spell. To refill the beer. You don’t learn non-verbal magic in your year. We only just started doing that.”

“Oh. Well, I learned it by myself. I had to, if I wanted to do stuff like this, you know.”

“But it’s still advanced level of magic.”

“Well, everything’s achievable with enough practice.”

“Blimey,” he said, quite amused. “You really are something.”

You felt the warmth in your chest again. You shot a grateful smile towards the boy sitting next to you.

“Thanks.”

“Isn’t it exhausting? Always studying, I mean.”

“I study while I’m home in the summer.”

“You study in your summer break? That’s outrageous!”

“Don’t really have anything else to do anyway.”

“Well, we can figure out something, go somewhere this summer. I mean, if it’s alright with your parents as well.”

“I don’t think they’d really mind. They’d be delighted, me leaving again.”

“Are they really that bad?” he asked, sadness in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you said in a low voice, then spoke in apathy. “It’s okay, though. I got quite used to it by now.”

George opened his mouth to answer but two extra glasses appeared on the table and chairs creaked on the floor next to you.

“You two were really fast!” Fred exclaimed while he and Lee took a seat. “You even had time to start drinking without us. How was Honeydukes, Georgie? What did they say?”

George needed a second to understand what the bloody hell Fred was talking about. He looked at you, confused, then to Lee, then tried to come up with some useful information. But his mind was elsewhere. From the corner of his eye he was watching you. And for the first time in his life he wished if only his brother had arrived a few minutes later.

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panharmonium · 4 years

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you can be my ride or die: a staggeringly long essay about a deceptively short appearance

(aka, pan’s personal depository of notes about prince william of ealdor.)

now that my fic is long since done and posted, i can finally transfer this monster piece of meta out of my google docs and onto my blog, where it can serve as an unasked-for, absurdly detailed, beginning-to-end analysis of my obscure fave.

(whose line ‘yeah, and i’m prince william, of ealdor’ is still the funniest damn shit i’ve ever heard and also the most shocking burn arthur has ever received; i hope he thinks of it sometimes and remembers that humility is a virtue)

(the BRISTLING DISRESPECT! the ZERO FUCKS GIVEN! i love him! please can someone else talk to arthur like this! he needs it!)

disclaimer before we begin: i wrote this over a year ago, as a character check for myself during the very early stages of working on my fic. i kept messily adding bits to it over the course of a couple weeks as i explored what i knew about this character and who i understood him to be, but at the time, i didn’t intend on posting it; it was just prep work for my own story-making. it’s still essentially just a record of my train of thought as i pieced this character together - i’ve cleaned it up a bit now and added some recent links to make it more coherent, but it was never meant to be a posted essay, just a collection of notes for myself.

be forewarned, it is more comprehensive than the things i’ve written about this character since, and it goes on for years. if you are not interested in many, many pages of super heavy in-depth musings about a character who appeared in one episode, now is the time to scroll on by. i promise i won’t mind in the slightest; i wrote this for my own purposes and don’t really expect people to read it - i’m posting it just to have it archived with the rest of my merlin stuff.

if you are interested in that sort of thing, however - hit the jump, and off we go!

i really love the episode where we meet will, though i’ve started to love it for new reasons since the first time i watched it.

the first time i watched season 1, 'the moment of truth’ was my favorite S1 episode overall, because it was the first time the Fab Four went off on an adventure together, and that was very exciting; and i also loved it because all the character stuff in that episode was so good; and i also loved it because look, all of us are suckers for that classic seven samurai plot, you know - i loved it in TCW, i loved it in the mandalorian, i loved it in merlin. not gonna get bored of ‘simple farmers defend their homes with pitchforks’ anytime soon. it is overall just a solid, self-contained plot with clear emotional arcs, and it sticks its landing well. it’s a simple, strong story.

nowadays, though, i also love it because of will.

i. will whomst?

prince william of ealdor, that’s who!

will straddles a kind of weird place in canon, because he feels like a minor character to the audience but is very much not a minor character for merlin, who has known will much longer than the brief hour we get to spend with him and who has spent his entire life with will as his sole friend.

but, because will only appears once - let’s start with a round-up. what do we actually know about him?

he’s a peasant farmer from ealdor, like merlin

his father was killed fighting for king cenred (as a foot soldier - these people are not wealthy enough or high-status enough to afford or be accepted into the knighthood)

his mother is either dead or absent

he’s painfully class conscious and doesn’t trust the nobility

he’s a “troublemaker” (the interpretation of which is...well, it’s left to the viewer’s discretion. fandom seems to jump to ‘fun mischief and pranks,’ though i personally don’t get that vibe from this episode. “troublemaker” in will’s case seems to mean more “doesn’t know how to keep his head down/can’t go along to get along to save his life.” it means when he sees something that he thinks is Wrong, he absolutely will not shut up about it even when all his neighbors are sick of him and want him to just let it go. it means he can’t stop rocking the boat even when rocking the boat makes everybody want to strangle him.)

he supplements his agricultural pursuits with carpentry. you can see in his house big piles of hewn timber along one wall, as well as a grindstone and a shaving horse, and when he comes out of his house on two separate occasions he’s holding woodworking tools (mallet, chisel, etc)

he knows about merlin’s magic - for how long this has been the case, we’re not told. it doesn’t feel like a new thing to me, but ultimately that’s guesswork.

he appears to have just one friend

that one friend is merlin

will loves merlin enough to die lying for him

merlin left will behind.

ii. it wasn’t what i wanted

so let’s talk about that.

merlin is asked “why did you leave?” twice in this episode, first by arthur and then by will. he gives completely contradictory answers to the two of them, and it’s worth remembering, before examining both responses, that one answer is inherently more honest than the other, because merlin is only able to tell the whole truth to one of these people.

so when merlin talks to arthur, it goes like this:

“why did you leave?”

“things just...changed.”

“how?”

*silence*

“come on, stop pretending to be interesting and tell me.”

“i just didn’t fit in anymore. i wanted to find somewhere I did.”

arthur has to drag this answer out of merlin, and it’s not because merlin doesn’t feel like sharing (i mean, come on, we know merlin; merlin wants to be in everybody’s business and he feeds off human connection like a starving man; he’d be thrilled that arthur was interested in his life) - the problem isn’t that he’s shy; it’s that he’s not exactly telling the truth and he’s trying to figure out how to do it in the least deceptive way possible.

i just didn’t fit in anymore. i wanted to find somewhere i did.

that’s nice.

it’s also a lie.

it’s not a total lie, of course - there’s an element of it that becomes true, after merlin gets to camelot and realizes that working for arthur is “not totally horrible all the time” - that he sort of likes the excitement, and the newness, and being somewhere where nobody knows him and nobody will judge him - but that’s the reason he stays in camelot, not the reason he leaves ealdor.

by contrast, when will asks the question, merlin gives a completely different answer:

“why did you leave?”

“it wasn’t what I wanted. mother was worried. when she found out you knew - she was so angry.”

it wasn’t what I wanted.

can we digest that for a moment?

merlin didn’t want to leave home.

not that he isn’t enjoying himself in camelot now, of course - which he conveniently doesn’t mention in this conversation, because will is upset with him and merlin feels guilty that he’s been off enjoying his new life while will has been struggling at home alone - but at the point of departure, merlin didn’t want to go.

his answer to arthur about finding a place where he belonged is certain-point-of-view bunk. he didn’t just up and decide that he wanted to run off and find a place where he fit in better. he didn’t leave because he wanted to escape a place he didn’t belong. he didn’t set off in search of adventure and a new life. it’s true that he didn’t feel like he fit in in ealdor, but that’s not what sent him packing. he left because his mother found out that will knew about his magic, and she panicked and sent him away.

iii. why did you leave

most fannish things i’ve encountered tend to interpret merlin’s departure in a much more generous light than i do, with merlin explaining to will that he’s leaving and will being unhappy about it but eventually understanding and kind of like...giving his blessing before merlin goes. this is fine, of course, but it did surprise me, when i started dipping my toes into fandom, because i never interpreted events in this episode like that, and i don’t think it’s even a plausible read, not from the conversations we’re actually given. the antipathy that accompanies merlin’s return doesn’t make sense under those circumstances, and moreover, from the way things actually unfold in this episode, we’re told, in order, the following three things:

1) the fact that will asks “why did you leave” tells us that he and merlin did not discuss it prior to the point of departure. there’s no other reason for will to ask this question. everything about will’s tone and body language in this scene indicates that he’s been stewing over this for a long time, that he doesn’t understand, that this is something profoundly difficult for him to address. and while it might be nicer to think that merlin sat down and discussed things with will before leaving for camelot, that’s not the inference we’re being asked to make here.

2) there is absolutely no way they wouldn’t have discussed it, if will had known that merlin was going to leave. like - if your only friend in the world told you they were moving to another country tomorrow, there’s no way “why?” wouldn’t be the first question you asked. there’s no way you wouldn’t have that discussion, at the most basic level, before separating. it just wouldn’t happen.

3) so, given that information, the unfortunate, inescapable conclusion is this: will didn’t know merlin was going to leave. merlin left without telling him.

everyone is free to continue to headcanon this in their own ways, of course. but this is what we’re actually being told.

iv. we don’t want your kind round here

the fact that merlin vanishes without so much as a word to his best friend goes a long way towards explaining why merlin is so uncomfortable when he first sees will in the street.

when they first encounter each other, merlin looks so apprehensive and wary, and the writers are playing it like ‘uh-oh, someone saw him use magic and now he’s nervous about it!!!’ but two seconds later, you realize that this can’t possibly be what’s causing merlin’s concern, because it’s made immediately clear that will already knows about merlin’s magic and isn’t going to say anything about it.

merlin isn’t afraid of being outed, in this scene. but he might, however, be afraid of the reception he’s going to get, given what we just discussed.

merlin just up and disappeared from home, and not so much as a letter since - we know will’s had a secondhand update, probably from hunith (“how’ve you been?! i hear you’re skivvying for some prince”) but he very clearly hasn’t had any direct contact with merlin since before merlin left.

merlin knows this was a big fuck-up. he feels guilty.

(and to be clear - i think there is a lot to be said about just how merlin’s departure unfolded, and what stopped him from getting in touch. it’s a complicated enough topic for its own piece, and it’s not quite within the scope of this essay, but suffice it to say for now that i don’t believe it stemmed from deliberate thoughtlessness or callousness on merlin’s part; it’s...deeper and more complicated than that. honestly, i think merlin looks back on this as like...the first major mistake he ever made in his life, his...original sin, sort of. and i don’t think he’s ever forgiven himself for it, either, but again, that’s a story for another day.) the point here is that merlin didn’t necessarily want to cause harm, but he knew that’s what he was doing regardless - he knew that leaving without a word was the wrong thing to do. and in this moment he feels rightfully guilty about all of it, and he’s afraid that his friend won’t welcome him home.

merlin’s moment of uncertainty is real, when will pretends to greet him with hostility. merlin is afraid that will is angry with him for leaving him behind.

(and let’s not kid ourselves, will definitely is)

it’s a festering thing that keeps boiling to the surface as we progress through the episode. it shows in the way will finally asks why did you leave, avoiding merlin’s eyes, the question laden with vulnerability. it’s in the exchange “are you going to abandon them?”/“what, like you did?” there’s real pain there, and confusion, lots of hurt feelings.

but.

despite all of that, will doesn’t freeze merlin out, when merlin comes riding back into town. merlin is rightfully afraid that will might not want to see him, afraid that “we don’t want your kind round here” might be less of a joke than it ought to be. and while all of the troubles that merlin is worried about are absolutely real and poised to cause friction later, the truth is that at that exact moment, when merlin comes walking up the road - none of it matters. will has been nursing a collection of hurt feelings for months now, yeah, but in the immediate moment, when it comes down to it - he puts them aside.

they both do. nerves, guilty thoughts, bruised feelings - they temporarily abandon all of that in favor of a momentary joy. you can see how excited they are when they reunite. how they start smiling at the same time. how they laugh their way into that hug. they’re so happy to see each other.

people get pretty worked up about ***That Time Arthur Finally Hugged Merlin!!!***, but i don’t know. i think it matters to remember that merlin had people who knew how to hold him long before arthur was even a flicker of a shadow in merlin’s mind.

v. why are you being like this

so they reunite!

and then they fight. D:

but what really matters is how they fight, because even when they’re having an argument, they never let things escalate quite to the level of interpersonal nastiness, certainly never to the level of cruelty for cruelty’s sake - just a few hard truths and a pile of hurt feelings:

“i trust arthur with my life.”

“is that so? so he knows your secret, then?”

...

“face it, merlin, you’re living a lie, just like you were here. you’re arthur’s servant, nothing more. otherwise you’d tell him the truth.”

the delivery in this scene is essential for understanding how these two interact with each other. it’s so telling. merlin and will are having an argument, and will is angry about everything we’ve already discussed, and on top of that, some prince is trying to round up a bunch of will’s neighbors for a fight that’s going to get a lot of people killed, and will sounds so sharp when he’s talking, up to and including the challenging “is that so?”

but then when he sees that he’s touched a nerve there and merlin knows he’s right, his voice drops those edges and goes gentler, regretful, like - he and merlin aren’t all hunky-dory right now, but he’s not out to rub merlin’s face in it, either. he’s not trying to “get back” at merlin for leaving him. he’s not like...happy that merlin’s situation is shitty.

vi. if i broke it (would you quit?)

we mostly only see these two in a tense season. they’re arguing with each other for almost the entire episode, and yet even in this at-odds state, there are little things that remind us of what they’re usually like - that they don’t want to be arguing, that this isn’t a natural at-rest state for them, that this isn’t what they’re used to. they butt heads, but they keep swinging around back to each other, and trying again, and trying again, and trying again. they never write each other off. they keep trying to make it work.

examples: merlin asking “why are you being like this?,” the implication being that will isn’t usually like this, that this isn’t how they usually act around each other. the two of them together in the background of arthur’s pitiful training session, coming right off the tail-end of another argument and busying themselves with their own work, but still reflexively hanging in each other’s orbit. merlin, even in the middle of a strained conversation, helping clean up the mess that the bandits made of will’s house, without asking or being asked, like it’s just the automatic, reflexive, natural thing to do. merlin using will’s proper name when discussing him with other people, but always the diminutive when they’re talking to each other. merlin following will every time will walks away; will doing the same when merlin’s the one who’s leaving. that moment up in the hedgerow, with will’s embittered “you know why,” which sets them to arguing again, except instead of it pushing them apart, it pulls them closer together - will climbs right up into the hedge where merlin is standing so they can sit next to each other and talk.

like. he’s angry! but the instinct isn’t to storm away, it’s to get closer.

i love that so much. i love how they’re starting to have another argument and merlin stands there and says “why are you being like this,” to which will, already upset, responds “you know why,” BUT -

but

will stalks up into that hedge and plops himself down right next to merlin, and merlin, without a moment’s hesitation, sits down beside him.

i love that. they’re angry with each other, but their first instinct is still to close the distance.

i wonder, sometimes, how much of that is a function of them only having each other. when you’re on the outs with someone, usually you can lean on your other friends, but what can they do? it’s different when the person you usually seek out for comfort is the same person who’s pissing you off. you don’t have anyone else to run to, so you can’t ever really storm off. you have to learn how to hash things out. you have to learn how to make it work. you have to learn not to give up on each other.

vii. she was so angry

the implied backstory for how merlin actually ended up in camelot is so painfully fascinating and, quite frankly, wrenching to think about, given how this episode eventually ends.

when will asks merlin why he left, merlin tells him, “it wasn’t what i wanted. my mother was worried. when she found out you knew - she was so angry.” this is telling us that merlin’s departure for camelot was directly preceded by his mother discovering that will knew about merlin’s magic. that is what ultimately prompted her to send merlin off to camelot. of course there would have been other contributing factors - it’s evident that merlin’s situation in ealdor has always been precarious - but her immediate reason for sending him away was the fact that she found out that will knew about merlin’s magic, and she was angry and afraid to learn that merlin had been lying to her about something that put him at risk.

“i wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“i know you wouldn’t.”

but merlin’s mother didn’t believe that, or she wouldn’t listen to him when he tried to tell her, and she shipped him off to camelot anyway, despite the fact that camelot is arguably more dangerous for merlin than ealdor ever was.

the web of how this played out is such a tangled mess. is it my fault, thinks will, before the episode even starts, desperately trying to figure out why merlin would abandon him like that. it’s my fault, thinks merlin, at the end, knowing that if he had used his magic sooner, or come back alone, events would have unfolded differently. it’s my fault, thinks hunith, realizing that the particular fear upon which she based merlin’s entire departure was utterly unfounded.

merlin doesn’t blame her for it, even though he has reason enough to be angry about it, by the end of this episode. he understands that she was just trying to protect him. but the truth of the matter is that she did make a mistake. she was afraid for him, and she saw danger everywhere, and so she made a misjudgment.

it’s the miniest of mini-arcs, but it’s there. at the end of this episode, right after will drops the Big Damn Lie, merlin looks desperately around for the only other person in the room who understands, and the camera rests on hunith’s face for one lingering moment, as she realizes what’s happening. when she’s exiting the house, there’s a shot where she pauses for a minute on her way out the door, staring back at her son's dying friend, who just offered himself up as a willing sacrifice to keep merlin’s secret safe.

she and merlin are the only people in the room who understand the real import of that moment, the real meaning of that gesture. they’re the only ones who know what’s happening, what it really means for will to say “i did it.”

hunith knows she misjudged that kid big-time.

viii. you can be my ride or die

so. will.

why am i even interested in him? what is it about this character that makes me want to write about him?

number one: i love him because he’s the only person we ever meet who cares exclusively about merlin.

everyone else merlin has met up until this point is either a) as beholden to camelot and arthur as merlin is himself, or b) aware of merlin’s “destiny,” which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but does change the way people talk to him and treat him.

it’s not that merlin doesn’t have people who care about him, but those relationships are not the same as the one he has with will. merlin is obviously #1 in his mom’s life, of course - but, importantly, even hunith’s immediate reaction to merlin’s uncertainty at the end of 1.10 is to tell him that he has to go back to camelot, that arthur needs him, that he’s “the other side of a coin.” this despite the fact that hunith has known arthur for all of five minutes and that merlin, in the moment where she talks to him, is in a lot of pain, and maybe it isn’t the most appropriate moment say, ‘hey, you absolutely must devote yourself to that guy i literally just watched lecture you about the evils of magic while attending your (supposedly magical) dead best friend’s funeral.’

and when it comes to merlin’s camelot network, well - he’s #1 in gaius’s life, too, but gaius also is deeply concerned with the greater good, with the future emergence of albion, with what merlin is meant to become and do. morgana and arthur - well, they don’t know merlin, first of all (really know him, all of him, the important bits) - they definitely like him well enough, and care about him in their way, but ultimately they’re royalty or pseudo-royalty and they have priorities that go beyond merlin, who, at the end of the day, is still a servant. gwen comes the closest to being on merlin’s level, but she doesn’t know him-know him either, and as time goes on she gets more involved with the Crown, with arthur, and with the responsibilities all of that brings. even merlin’s later friends all go on to have other missions - they absolutely all love him, but they all become knights, and they are as concerned about the well-being of the realm and the king as merlin is. even merlin HIMSELF puts arthur’s life ahead of his own - he defines his worth by how well he can protect his prince.

but will is the only person we ever meet who just cares about merlin - merlin the regular person, not the servant he pretends to be, or the legend he’s supposed to become. not the fake, non-magical merlin facade (which is what almost everyone else needs merlin to be before they can condescend to be his friend) and not some destiny-laden figure out of prophecy, either. will doesn’t know anything about destiny or prophecies. he’s never needed to know about any of that stuff to care. he’s always liked merlin. just merlin. just as he is.

that matters. all merlin ever does in this show is deny himself or be denied of the things every regular human being needs to thrive - love, acceptance, truth, safety. he constantly puts or is forced to put other priorities ahead of his own interests, to a point where now, by season five, he’s spent years defending a regime that oppresses him, protecting kings who would execute him.

will, in a display of true-to-character contrariness, upsets that entire narrative, because he does not care one whit about any of the things for which merlin is supposed to sacrifice his life. will gives less than zero (count them: negative zero) fucks about arthur pendragon, and he doesn’t care about camelot, and he wouldn’t know what “albion” meant if he heard the word. and it is refreshing - a blessed, beautiful, heartbreaking relief - to see one person in the world who only cares about merlin, for whom arthur pendragon, in comparison with merlin, isn’t the slightest bit important. arthur isn’t even on the map. he’s a non-entity. he doesn’t exist.

it’s a complete inversion of the way things are supposed to go, in this story. you know how it goes - arthur is the once and future king, and merlin’s job is to usher in his reign. "maybe that is its purpose,” gaius says, about merlin’s magic being meant to protect arthur, about merlin being born this way for that particular reason. it’s merlin’s job to save arthur’s life. it’s merlin’s job to teach arthur to be a better person, at his own expense. it’s all for arthur. i give my life for arthur’s. his life is worth a hundred of mine. what is the life of a servant compared with that of a prince?

will delivers the biggest fuck-you to that entire framework, because he doesn’t assess merlin’s worth based on what merlin can do for some random prince on the other side of the border. merlin’s magic wasn’t purposed for anything, as far as will is concerned. it doesn’t need to justify itself. it just is. it’s just who merlin is.

and who merlin is has always been just fine.

ix. am i the only one wondering who the hell this is

for will, it’s people like arthur who need to justify themselves. arthur with all of his power, arthur riding into little villages with his sword drawn, arthur and his bossing around and his “now, merlin!” conversation-interrupting. will makes no allowances for wealth and couldn’t be less interested in royalty - his frame of reference isn’t you’re the once and future king and merlin exists to prop you up; it’s who the hell are you? what gives you the right to be here? what did you do to earn what you have?

will, like gwaine after him, is acutely aware of the injustice of the reigning social system, and he’s not afraid to throw it in arthur’s face. he knows that people like himself and merlin and all of their neighbors are unjustly disadvantaged from birth until death, and he knows they’re disadvantaged solely because the people at the top of the social chain are greedy lords who sow no seed but reap all the grain, who do no work but enjoy the greatest rewards, who steal from the people with impunity and call it divine entitlement. will knows that he and merlin and all of their neighbors are considered no better than plow-beasts or war-fodder, and he knows that there is absolutely nothing they can do to stop the nobility from either taxing them into starvation or sending them off to die in a ditch - which makes him impossibly angry, and, unlike everybody else in his village, he’s not shy about saying so.

will is, at this point, literally the first non-villain to look at arthur and not immediately see some messianic pinnacle of human greatness - which is refreshing, to be honest, and fair enough besides! he’s evaluating arthur from merlin’s side of things, after all, which nobody - including merlin - ever does, and while i love arthur as much as anybody - for the people’s hero that he could be, and for what he is, sometimes, if not frequently enough - the truth is that he’s not good for all of his people, not yet, and he’s not good for merlin, not the way things stand right now.

will knows that. he looks at arthur and sees a guy with a lot of power, who also happens to rule over the the least magic-friendly place in the five kingdoms, to whom merlin needs to lie in order to avoid the executioner’s block, and he sees merlin deluding himself into thinking that this supremely unequal, extremely unsafe situation counts as friendship.

now, is will’s assessment of the situation a snap judgment based on personal encounters with an unjust social system and very limited knowledge of arthur as a person? yes, definitely. are there nuances to merlin and arthur’s relationship that he’s missing? absolutely.

is he wrong?

not really. and merlin knows it.

x. friends don’t lord it over one another!

i think about that line every damn episode.

over and over again, it comes back to me. i hear it every time arthur gets On His Shit and invokes power he pretends not to have, every time i see more evidence of how this supposed “friendship” between him and merlin is inherently imbalanced. it’s my favorite thing will says in all of 1.10, because it is so true and yet, most of the time, so unacknowledged as a dynamic.

we’re meant to love arthur and merlin together, and we do - i do; i do; when i see those moments that approach true mutual respect and care between them i am as swept up by the potential beauty of this friendship as anyone - but i still think about this line all the time. it’s not right, the power dynamic between the two of them. it’s not just about servants vs. royalty, though of course that’s a structural part of how it plays out. it’s about the fact that, in a real friendship, one person can’t just whip out “you ever say anything like that again, and i swear you’ll join her in exile forever” to shut down a conversation and cow you into silence. one person can’t just throw you in jail to spend a night “cooling off,” and they definitely can’t arrest you whenever someone levels a random accusation at you. in a real friendship, it’s not one person who has all the power.

but when it comes to arthur and merlin, that’s exactly what happens. arthur gets to decide when he and merlin are and aren’t friends. arthur gets to call merlin in or send him away. arthur gets to make all the decisions about when to listen, when to ignore, when to trust, when to believe. merlin can nudge, encourage, suggest, even defy, but ultimately, when you get right down to it, arthur is the king, and merlin is his servant, a dynamic which is compounded by the deadly particulars of merlin’s situation. the relationship isn’t unequal solely because of a difference in social class, it’s unequal because arthur literally has the power of life and death over merlin. arthur could (and would, as far as merlin knows) have merlin executed any day of the week, if he found out who merlin really was.

that’s why when merlin tries to tell will that arthur is his friend, will snaps, “friends don’t lord it over one another!” it’s not that you can’t care about someone who has more power than you, and it’s not that you can’t have some kind of relationship with them, but it is not real friendship if you think your “friend” will kill you when they find out who you really are. it is not a real friendship if you have to pretend to be someone you’re not in order to preserve the relationship. real friends don’t leverage impossible amounts of power to shut you up when you say something they don’t want to hear. real friends don’t say things like “you’ll be a friend for life if you do [x thing]” to convince you to lie to their dad while they go out with a girl and thus get you clapped in the stocks three times in a row, and then turn around and show their appreciation by letting people raid and ransack your house multiple times, throwing you in jail at least twice, accusing (and once nearly executing!) your loyal long-serving mentor more than once - among innumerable other issues. real friends aren’t “you’re my friend when i need you to be, but not when it’s inconvenient.” they don’t have the kind of power to turn things on and off whenever they want.

i love that will is the only person who ever acknowledges this, across five seasons of this show. i love that he spits it out immediately, without hesitation, the minute merlin tries to makes things sound better than they are. i love that he says it unapologetically, to merlin’s face, because he says it for merlin’s sake, after all - the point of saying ‘friends don’t lord it over one another’ is to say ‘that guy doesn’t appreciate you the way you appreciate him/this isn’t reciprocal and he’s taking advantage of you/this isn’t the friendship you want it to be and i don’t like seeing you settle for this.’ will is that friend who watches you interact with someone and then later gets in your business like ‘EXCUSE ME! I DO NOT LIKE HOW HE TALKS TO YOU! I DON’T LIKE HOW HE TREATS YOU!'

will knows that merlin deserves better than arthur pendragon, even when merlin himself won’t concede that point. merlin won’t advocate for himself, so will tries to do it for him. merlin can try to convince himself that arthur is a real friend all he wants, but will knows what’s up. he knows. he knows where this is going, if merlin’s relationship with arthur is allowed to continue on exactly as-is. will knows, from the very beginning, that this is a recipe for disaster.

[addendum 2020: speaking from a post season-5 perspective...will understood where merlin and arthur were headed long before even we the audience did.]

xi. friends don’t lord it over one another [reprise]

you know what real friends do do for each other, though?

a) listen - even when they don’t like what the other person is saying

b) care - even when they’re angry

that’s it. that’s what matters.

we don’t need more than an hour of watching will and merlin onscreen together to see that this is how they interact with each other. they’re arguing for most of this episode, and they’re both right, in different ways, but by the time they’ve had it out with one another, they both understand where their own arguments were wrong, too. they listen to each other despite the fact that they’re angry, and despite the fact that they both have very strong feelings about their respective positions. they care enough about each other to look past their personal injuries and accept where the other person is coming from.

merlin starts off this episode absolutely dead-set against using his magic to help ealdor, if there’s any chance arthur could find out about it. but later, before he and will have even officially reconciled onscreen, we can already see that he’s been listening to what will’s been saying, that he’s come around to will’s way of thinking, because he tells his mother “if it comes down to a choice between revealing who i truly am and saving lives - that’s no choice at all,” hearkening back to will’s “are you telling me you’d rather keep your magic a secret for arthur’s sake than use it to protect your friends and family?” and: “if arthur doesn’t accept me for who i am...well...then he’s not the friend i hoped he was” (you’re arthur’s servant, nothing more. otherwise you’d tell him the truth.)

merlin has been listening the whole time, even if he didn’t like what will was saying.

and the same goes for will, too. he’s (understandably!) bitter about merlin’s situation, about the way merlin left, about the new life merlin built for himself while will was suffering in a confused limbo of abandonment at home - and will also obviously thinks the Farmers’ Resistance is a total disaster, a noble-spun farce that’s going to get good people killed - but even though he doesn’t trust the camelot contingent and couldn’t give fewer shits about prince arthur pendragon specifically, he trusts merlin. he listens to merlin, even though they’ve been fighting. he comes back because merlin keeps telling him it’s the right thing to do.

they both listen, even when it seems like they’re just arguing with each other. and they both acknowledge where the other person was right, even when it means making themselves vulnerable. will comes back to help his neighbors fight a battle against hopeless odds. merlin exposes his magic to save people’s lives.

they teach each other how to do the right thing. they make each other brave.

xii. you just saved my life

let’s talk about being brave, then.

this kid jumps in front of a crossbow for a guy he doesn’t even like.

can we be clear about that? will doesn’t even LIKE arthur. he doesn’t particularly care about him. he doesn’t accept him as the noble savior of all mankind. he isn’t interested in defending the nobility, and he certainly hasn’t jumped on the camelot bandwagon. just because he’s seen that arthur wasn’t planning on sending them all to their deaths without risking his own neck doesn’t mean will is suddenly going to start flying the pendragon crest from atop his house.

but he isn’t going to step back and let a coward shoot another man in the back, either.

arthur’s still a prince, yeah. arthur’s still sitting at the tip-top of an unjust social system, benefitting from all kinds of privileges he didn’t earn. arthur’s still a crappy friend to merlin. heck, two seconds before that crossbow gets fired, arthur’s gone full-on inquisition-mode, interrogating merlin about sorcery, which, given that arthur can just go ahead and have merlin executed with a snap of his fingers, isn’t a great way to earn will’s respect or trust.

but you know what? when it comes down to it, will’s automatic, reflexive reaction upon seeing someone in immediate danger is to Get In The Way.

it doesn’t matter that will doesn’t like arthur. it doesn’t even matter that he actively dislikes arthur. will doesn’t even think about it, he just moves. instinctively. automatically. he isn’t going to let anyone standing right in front of him get murdered with their back turned, no matter how much he can’t stand them.

let’s all take a second to remember and acknowledge something in arthur’s stead, since i’m not sure arthur will do it himself - arthur pendragon would have been dead right there if it weren’t for a dirt-poor peasant farmer from cenred’s kingdom who never had anything nice to say to a prince but still stepped between a pendragon and a crossbow in the name of doing the right thing. without will, the story would have ended in season 1, episode 10. albion itself owes its future existence to a young man with no surname who will never be acknowledged or recognized for anything he did, not for teaching the future king a lesson in humility, not for saving the prince’s life, and certainly not for the greatest and most noble move he ever made, because that gesture’s success is predicated upon its remaining a secret.

this kid saves the entire World That Will Be. the show would have ended before it ever really began, if not for our man prince william of ealdor.

merlin knows that, and merlin never forgets it. but i’m not so sure about everyone else.

xiii. yeah, don’t know what i was thinking

let’s talk about defiance.

this kid is dying, and he’s still full of piss and vinegar. when arthur says, wide-eyed, “you’re a sorcerer,” will responds, “yeah. what are you going to do, kill me?”

what a power move. what a thing to say.

that’s not a question. that is a no-fucks-given, shame-and-blame challenge.

what are you going to do, kill me?

merlin uses those exact same words during his confrontation with morgana in 3.02. when he’s trapped - when he’s cornered and betrayed and angry - he reaches for the kind of defiance he once saw exercised on his own behalf, for a shameless bravery that burned itself into his brain. for the kind of strength he wants to channel himself.

when it comes to holding your ground in front of the pendragon dynasty, merlin learned from the best.

xiv. and i’m prince william, of ealdor

let’s talk about names.

william: from wil (will or determination) and helm (protection, a helm)

hence the common translation of resolute protector.

which, given the events of 1.10, seems very fitting.

xv. i did it

let’s talk about lies.

because resolute protector rings even more powerfully true when it comes to merlin than it does for arthur.

at the time of this writing, i have four more episodes to watch before i’m done with season 5. at this point, at the end of the show, merlin’s magic is still a secret. merlin’s gotten involved in a lot of dangerous situations, risking his life in other ways, but the one danger he’s never had to really confront is the executioner’s block, because none of the pendragons know his secret.

and the reason none of the pendragons know his secret is thanks to our boy prince william of ealdor, who turns his own untimely death into a last-second rescue operation by telling the Biggest Damn Lie of his life and then doubling down on it when merlin tries to tell him no.

will is the one who secures merlin’s next five years of relative safety. not from all of life’s dangers, of course; no one can do that - but when it comes to merlin’s greatest fear, the worst outcome, the prospect of being dragged out of his home in chains and murdered in front of an ogling crowd for just existing - will buys merlin’s escape from that fate with his life. merlin remains hidden and unexposed to this very day because will died protecting his secret, because will lied to the prince of magic-hunting and invited upon himself all of the risk and scorn and danger and condemnation that a false confession like that entailed.

i honestly don’t know how to express clearly enough the enormity of that moment. the momentousness of that gesture. i called it a bold and tremendous lie in some other post somewhere, and i don’t know how else to capture what it was. the thought of what it would mean, to be merlin, and to see someone throw themselves on the block for your sake, for your safety and your future and your freedom, when the rest of the world and every message you’ve ever absorbed says you don’t deserve to be safe, you don’t deserve to be free, you don’t deserve to exist.

it is impossible to overstate how much that matters. merlin carries that with him for the rest of his life.

xvi: i can’t fight you anymore (it’s you i’m fighting for)

let’s talk about love, okay?

this ep is called the moment of truth, right?

so here are some truths about will. in the time that we spend with him, we come to understand that he is the following:

a poor peasant kid with nothing to his name

a kid whose father is dead

a kid whose mother is either dead or absent

a kid who “people are used to ignoring”

a kid who’s been making his own way through this backbreaking subsistence-farmer’s life with no grown-ups to hold him or help him or listen to him when he comes home at night

a kid who isn’t trusted to protect merlin’s secret, even by merlin’s own mother, whom will has known for his entire life

a kid whose only friend in the world fucked off to the country next door without a hint of warning or any indication that it was something that should matter to either one of them, making will think he misread the only meaningful relationship he’s ever had, because if merlin can just vanish to nowhere and not even bother to send a note, then either merlin wasn’t actually his friend to begin with or merlin was his friend at one time but doesn’t want to be anymore, both of which options are soul-crushing

a closed-off, heavily-armored, hurting kid who’s been unspeakably lonely for the past few months but also angry and ashamed at himself for feeling that way, because how stupid did he have to be, to think that he mattered to someone, that someone would ever want him or love him or need him or miss him, to think that this time would be different, that this time somebody wouldn’t leave him -

and even in this state - even in the midst of all this -

at the moment of truth, he still puts himself on the chopping block. he still says, “you’ll have to go through me.”

he comes through for merlin. of course he does. ��the irony is bitter and beautiful - hunith sent merlin away precisely because she didn’t trust that merlin would be safe with will knowing about his magic, but in the end it’s will who gives up everything to keep merlin’s secret concealed.

not just to keep it concealed, even - to reverse merlin being outed. merlin had already been exposed. the deed was done! the magic was seen! it was all over - and then, miraculously, it wasn’t. what will did was the only way merlin could ever have slipped safely back under the cover of secrecy.

will didn’t have to do that. he didn’t have to lie about performing magic, and he didn’t have to save arthur, either. it would have been better for will to let arthur die, in fact, and it would have been better for him to let merlin get caught, too, because ‘maybe then merlin would have to stay here with me’ - but will is so much better than petty revenge. he’s so much better than anybody ever gives him credit for, merlin excepted.

the fight will has with merlin doesn’t matter to him, in the end. it was a complicated situation for both of them; will knows this. if he weren’t dying now, he and merlin would have talked it out and made up - will knows that, too. things could have gone a little smoother between them, maybe, and will still thinks going back to camelot is less than what merlin deserves, but it’s what merlin wants, and the mark of truly loving someone is when you want the best for them, even if it means you don’t get what you want for yourself. so ultimately, when it comes down to it, the truth for will is this: he wants merlin to have a good life. he wants merlin to be safe. he wants merlin to be happy. he wants merlin to be with him, too, but if he can’t have that, it’s no reason to withhold any of the other gifts he can bestow. if one of those gifts is freedom, if one of those gifts is safety - it’s no choice at all.

merlin is will’s one good thing. merlin deserves everything will can give him, as far as will is concerned.

xvii. the only place worth being

this place has been boring without you.

what a thing to tell someone.

what a powerful thing to say to someone whose entire life up to this point has been a litany of ‘there’s something wrong with you,’ ‘you don’t belong here,’ ‘you’re cursed/broken/wrong/unnatural.’ what a dauntlessly loving thing to tell someone whose entire life has been the message ‘people like you deserve to die,’ over and over and over again.

what a singularly beautiful thing it is, for someone like merlin to hear ‘you are what makes this place worth living in.’

xviii: the only one worth seeing

likewise it’s good to see you again.

because it’s not just “it’s good to see you again;” it’s an acknowledgement that merlin is the last person will is ever going to see.

and will is like, okay.

he’d rather be alive, yeah, but if he had choose - it’s good that it’s you.

xix: the only bed worth sleeping in (is the one right next to you)

the most devastating moment in this sequence, for me, is at the very end, when will confesses fear.

it doesn’t happen until everything else has been taken care of. arthur’s been fooled, merlin’s been safely shuffled back under the cover of secrecy, everybody’s been taken in by the ruse and sent away, none the wiser - all the necessary and important business has been dealt with.

only at the very, very end does will’s own predicament rear its ugly head. only after everything else is done does he even allow himself to feel it. he’s spent the rest of this sequence making jokes and roasting arthur and keeping it all together, but at the last second, when he falters, he comes undone for the only person he trusts, the only person who understands him, the only person in the world who gives a damn about him. his defenses come down, in that last moment, for merlin - and it could ONLY be for merlin - when will says, “merlin, i’m scared.”

we don’t need anything else, to understand their relationship. we’ve seen enough of will by now to recognize that he keeps the world at arm’s length, that even his walls have walls, that this is just not the sort of thing he would ever admit to. confessions of pain? acknowledging vulnerability? never. he’s not that kind of character. we know he has a big heart - look at what he’s doing - but we also know he’s had a hard life. he’s wrapped himself in layers upon layers of protection - snark and anger and deflection and sarcasm and still making jokes at the prince’s expense after being shot in the chest - nobody is allowed to see him open and undefended, never.

except merlin.

will is dying. he is so young. he has been so alone, for so much of his life, and he’s so young, and he’s dying. he clutches for this lifeline like it’s the only thing he has, because it is the only thing he has - merlin is his only friend. merlin is the person will loves best in the whole world.

merlin, i’m scared.

that is so unbelievably vulnerable. that is so utterly naked. that is totally defenseless, exposed, belly-up and barethroated under someone else’s burning gaze.

that is absolute trust. will would never have said that in front of anyone else. he would never have allowed anyone else to see him like that.

his confession is, like pretty much everything else he ever does, for merlin alone.

xx. your heart is on my sleeve

merlin, will keeps repeating. merlin.

how much do you have to love someone, to make their name your last words? how much do you have to care about someone, for that to be the only thing you can think to say, again and again, in your last terrified moments on this earth?

that’s a rhetorical question.

i know how much.

xxi: i missed you too

i think, sometimes, about will, when i watch the later seasons of merlin, and about how he would feel if he could see what merlin’s life has turned into.

i sometimes wonder how he would feel, if he could see how merlin allows himself to be passed over, disbelieved, disrespected. if he could see how merlin has started to define his worth in terms of how well he is able to protect Some Dude who doesn’t even know who merlin is, who keeps people like merlin trapped in the shadows of subjugation, hidden citizens in their own kingdom. if will could see how merlin has laid his entire life down for other people’s enrichment, if he could see how little hope merlin now holds for his own happiness, if he could see the way merlin in S5 has given up on his own liberation -

i don’t have to guess what will would say about it. i know how he would feel. if will could see merlin in season 5, his raging little heart would break.

i wish he were here to tell merlin exactly what he thought about it. merlin does all this self-sacrificing for the sake of his “destiny”; whereas will would think that any destiny making merlin this miserable was a steaming pile of trash. will would tell kilgharrah to get lost, and to take his questionable advice with him. will would tell arthur to fuck off - he’s done it already, in slightly less explicit terms.

does that mean i truly think merlin is supposed to abandon his mission and ditch camelot and run off to live his own life? no. merlin cares too much about making the world a better place to be truly happy with that kind of existence; he wants to change things for the common good; he wants to help the people he cares about. but merlin, as he tries to fulfill his mission, is desperately missing will’s kind of support in his life. merlin needs someone who is only here for him. he needs someone who is going to get up in his face and remind him, “you matter.” he needs someone to tell him, “you deserve better than this.” he needs someone who isn’t afraid to tell destiny to fuck off, when telling destiny to fuck off is in merlin’s best interests.

merlin needs someone who is on his side.

not camelot’s side. not albion’s side. not arthur’s side.

HIS side. merlin’s side.

xxii: he still is

the thing about will, then, for me, is this: i can’t minimize him.

i can’t do it. i can’t diminish that part of merlin’s life.

i don’t think it’s possible to overestimate his importance, frankly. merlin, when we meet him, has only ever had two people in his life. that is such an...unfathomable experience, for many of us. just two people. just two people to know you. just two people to love you. just two people, for your whole life.

will wasn’t just some friend. will was half of merlin’s world.

fannish pursuits that i have seen...the things where will appears are already so limited, and of course that’s completely understandable - it’s not like he’s a main character, or even a side character, by any means; i totally get that. but - so much of what i see is him serving solely as a set-up for merlin/arthur, or otherwise being shoved out of the way as soon as arthur shows up on the scene, or showing up only to be a receptacle for discussion about arthur and merlin’s developing relationship - even will and merlin’s own ship tag is 90% merlin/arthur fics.

and there’s nothing wrong with this, ultimately; everybody should continue to write exactly what they want and enjoy exactly what they want; that’s the fun of fandom. i mention these things here only because for me, personally, the whole point of will’s character is that merlin’s life is bigger than just arthur. the most important relationship merlin had for most of his life had zip-zero-nothing to do with arthur pendragon, and it still has zip-zero-nothing to do with arthur pendragon, after will is dead.

you remember will’s funeral at the end of 1.10? arthur has an entire conversation (a horrible one, fyi) with merlin, and merlin doesn’t look at him once. he answers arthur’s questions because he has to, but his eyes never once leave the pyre in front of him - not while he’s listening, not while he’s talking, not once. not ever. arthur comes, arthur chastises, and arthur goes, all without being granted so much as a glance, because this isn’t about him. this is none of his business.

the whole point of will is that it is possible for someone to love merlin and not give a tinker’s cuss about arthur pendragon. the whole point of will is that having someone love merlin without caring about arthur pendragon is, in fact, a good thing. merlin needs somebody like that in his life. he struggles when he doesn’t have someone like this around to advocate for him. just look at where he is in season 5 - look at what his life has become, when it’s been years since he had an in-the-know friend.

merlin suffers when he loses this kind of support. it’s easy to say that will is never mentioned again after 1.10, but there are real reasons why merlin wouldn’t be willing to explicitly mention him, and the lack of explicit references doesn’t mean we can’t still see him, if we pay attention. we see the immediate impact of his death in merlin’s attitude shift in 1.11. we see him in 2.02, when merlin names his fake tournament knight sir william and spends the rest of the episode roasting arthur to within an inch of his life. we see him in the season 3 opener, when morgana levels her sword at merlin and the first thing that pops out of merlin’s mouth is “what are you going to do, kill me?” we see him in gwaine’s intro episode, when merlin immediately cleaves to this class-conscious ‘people get sick of me too quickly’ stranger whose father was killed fighting one of the king’s wars. and his absence is felt, more generally (as is lancelot’s) in how quickly merlin’s life starts to spiral out of control once the only two honest friends he ever had are gone. their loss doesn’t have to be explicitly referenced for us to understand that merlin, without that kind of support system, is faltering. we see it happening with our own eyes.

[edit, post-viewing-of-S5-finale: and we see where it eventually leads, too.]

so, once again, as i said - i can’t minimize this character. i can’t overstate the positive impact of merlin having somebody who was here for him and only him, who affirmed merlin’s value independently of arthur pendragon’s fate, who knew and loved merlin without caring about a “destiny” that ultimately, in the end, turned out to be a cruel joke made at merlin’s expense.

if will had lived, i’m not sure we would have ended up in quite so dark a place. we might have landed in some other tight spot, sure, but i can tell you one thing for certain - will would not have sat quietly by and allowed merlin to throw his life away, not for camelot, not for arthur, and certainly not for a parade of empty promises.

xxiii: where you are, there i’ll be

the bottom line is this.

merlin spent the first two decades of his life with one friend.

one.

loved by one friend.

one.

merlin had his mother, who was there for him from the beginning, whose love was unconditional, who was an “of course.”

and he had will, who chose merlin, who kept choosing merlin even after merlin told him the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Secret. will’s presence in merlin’s life is the only reason merlin grows up believing himself to be deserving of love from people who aren’t his own mother. his presence in merlin’s life is the only reason merlin knows how to have and be a friend. his presence in merlin’s life is the only reason merlin is who he is - a merlin who’d spent his entire life without a single friend would not have been the same confident, optimistic, gregarious person who later walked into camelot and told arthur pendragon, “i’d never have a friend who could be such an ass.”

will mattered. we don’t talk about him much, because he only appeared in one episode, but it wasn’t “one episode” for merlin; it was closer to twenty years of companionship, of elbows in ribcages and smirks exchanged across the room and someone to natter on at, a person to sit next to and walk beside, in every season and all sorts of weather.

will chose merlin, and he kept right on choosing him, until he breathed his very last breath. that is enough for me to love him, to feel grateful that he existed. i don’t care how rough he is around the edges. i don’t care that he hates arthur pendragon’s guts, that he has a big mouth, that he speaks out of turn, that he has no tact, that he can’t suffer fools, that he has a chip on his shoulder the size of a minor planetoid and wings it at people’s heads when the mood is on him.

he loved merlin. actual, magical merlin; merlin as he truly is, merlin in all his gifted, unnatural, beautiful imperfection.

that is a desperately rare thing. that is worth celebrating.

#the once and future slowburn #no kings no masters #meta #<3

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dragonofthedepths · 3 years

Text

29/100 (29th of June 2021)

(29/100) Written/posted for the #100daysofwriting challenge by @the-wip-project

I spent several hours today filling out a survey on my fanfiction reading habits! This was not supposed to take several hours, but my inability to answer any free form question without writing multiple paragraphs dragged it out much longer than it was supposed to be! Considering that this was done around baking, having a friend over, and finishing a drawing that according to the timer on my art program took me a cumulative 22.5 hours to complete, I figured I would just copy and paste some of my more interesting answers here for today!

Here’s the link to the survey if you want to take it yourself, apparently it’s part of some kind of collage study:

https://robertgordonuniversity.onlinesurveys.ac.uk/fanfiction-questionnaire

Question:

What type(s) of library/libraries do you use? What activities or purposes do you use them for?

Answer:

The local library. I go there every now and then when I’m looking for an actual book to read, I usually have what I want already in mind, but might end up picking up something new from the same section if anything particularly catches my interest. Very occasionally I grab a few reference books, usually on things like religions that are harder to find a comprehensive reference for online beneath all the sensationalism and opinions.

I almost always spend at last a couple hours there, looking through my selection and reading a chapter or two. the only reason I’ll leave without sitting down and beginning at least one book is if I’m already late for something somewhere else.

Tldr: I use my local library, I do not go very often but I take my time when I do.

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Question (fanfiction.net):

If possible, please explain your typical process for finding fanfiction to read.

Answer:

Whenever I get interested in a new show I’ll latch on to a concept or particular character interaction eg. Villain!hero, ensemble finds out secret, character A needs a hug, character A adopted by character B, character C & character D friendship & hurt/comfort. Sometimes (especially if it’s a lesser known thing/has a small fandom) I’ll be as vague as favorite character, timetravel, wingfic, or soulmate AU. Whatever it is that I’ve latched onto, I’ll enter it into the search bar on whatever browser I’m using, and open whatever links look most appealing in a new tab, giving preference to stories from any website except Wattpad* over any king of collection, and links to Ao3 preference over links to anything else.

From there I work my way through everything that was offered, and as I do so I eventually come across new things that capture my interest, and —in general terms— follow them.

On ff.net I’ll follow the link back to the page for whatever franchise this is, then open the filter menu, select "all ratings" and begin using the filters to look for whatever character or pair of characters (seeing as looking for idea is not really possible on ff.net) interests me most in either the family, hurt/comfort, or angst genre depending on which has the most stories, unless one of them has stories in excess of 3 or 4 hundred, in which case I’ll pick whichever has the least stories. I’ll then go through the offerings, opening any story that look is interesting in a new tab. If I make it through all of that and somehow haven’t found something better to do on Ao3, then when I’m done I’ll go back to the genre filter and pick whichever had the middling number of stories, then after that the one on the opposite end of the spectrum from most to least. If at any point I’m offered more than 1,000 stories I’ll add additional filters until the results drop below 1,000, because I am not dealing with slogging through that much ff.net at once. If there is that much written for whatever I’m looking for, then either there’s some on Ao3 and I can leave, or I’m actually looking for something more specific and was just over-estimating how vague I’d need to be to get results at all. This is very methodical probably because I do not like this site and am putting up with it only to find what I’m currently looking for, I never get new ideas prompted to me or am enticed to wander off the beaten track. I don’t use ff.net very often, though still more often then I go to the library.

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Question:

Are there any search features or filters you wish fanfiction.net had for readers and searchers?

Answer:

Fanfiction.net is not a functional website, it’s a particularly shitty ghost town that is actively crumbling to pieces around its few remaining inhabitants. I it’s a hassle to read on and I only do so because I’m a fan of rare pairs, and have to take anything I can get, and because I’m a fan of a particular kind of low-brow overpowered-hero fanfiction that tends to be more common there then on Ao3 or Tumblr.

I wish it didn’t have adds in the middle of a page, every time I hit next chapter, ect.

I wish it didn’t have pointless captchas every time I start a new session.

I wish it had a visually pleasant format for presenting the stories for you to select from. Whether they’re search bar results, the results of a filter search, stories in a collection, or stories on an author’s page. It’s the same aggressively bad format and makes it hard to tell them apart from eachother and hard to pick which one(s) I want.

I wish stories could have longer summaries. They are so short that it forces everyone to sound same-y and rushed, and if an author want to include trigger warnings they have to be even shorter.

I wish there was a way to exclude/search/mark trigger warnings.

I wish you could select more than four characters in the filters, I wish authors could TAG more than four characters.

I wish there was a way to search/mark platonic relationships instead of only romantic.

I wish there was a way to search/mark a single character in multiple separate relationships eg. [A/B] and [A/C]

I wish there was a way to search for certain tropes or cliches without relying on pure hope that either the author used part of their limited summary space to mention it, or that someone else already made a collection for that trope and managed to find at least a few (they never have all) of the fics containing it.

I wish you could copy and paste the text without having to switch to the mobile version of the website. I don’t personally know why you can’t do this on desktop but I’ve heard other people say it’s because it’s actually generated as a pdf instead of genuine text.

I wish there was a way to open the whole story in one tab instead of being forced to go through it other by chapter.

I wish there was a way for authors to include author’s notes without it being part of the chapter.

I wish there was a way for authors to respond to comments without doing so in the author’s notes.

I wish the formatting wasn’t so aggressively bad as to be actively harming the quality of the story. I have found stories that were posted on both Ao3 and ff.net and read them on both websites, no differences in text, in punctuation, in anything at all, but on Ao3 it flowed much better, was much easier to read, and I’d have given a higher estimation of the author’s skill level if asked. All because it wasn’t actively being dragged down by ff.net’s formatting.

There are probably a fair few more things that I’m just not managing to think of at the moment, but considering there’s no way ff.net will ever be fixed and is in fact very likely to completely implode and die in the near future, I think this is good enough.

Sorry for the essays every time I’m allowed to write an answer but you’re asking loaded questions.

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Question (Ao3):

If possible, please explain your typical process for finding fanfiction to read.

Answer:

From there I work my way through everything that was offered, and as I do so I eventually come across new things that capture my interest, and —in general terms— follow them.

On Ao3 I’ll head back up to the top of a fic I really enjoyed and click on the tag for whatever little bit of it I enjoyed the most, and begin browsing again from there, refining with filters and following links and tags from new stories.

I will filter out reader inserts, original characters, y/n, or notps if I keep seeing too many of them in my results, but otherwise I’ll just scroll past them. Sometimes if I’ve been reading for a specific idea for a while I’ll sort by word count and begin going through it from least to most to see if there’s anything I’ve been missing because it’s not been updated recently. And sometimes if I feel like reading fanfiction but don’t have anything particular in mind I’ll just head to the Ao3 page for the main character (more reliable then a fandom tag, if a franchise exists in multiple forms of media they’ll usually each have their own tag the fanfiction will be scattered accordingly) of one of the bigger fandoms I’m in and start trawling the page for anything that looks interesting.

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Question:

Please use the box below to write any thoughts or opinions on this questionnaire or the subjects within it that you did not get the chance to share.

Answer:

On how I find fanfiction to read on websites that are not ff.net or Ao3, copy-pasted from the original all-encompassing answer I wrote before I realized you were looking for answers only about the website you’d just been talking about:

Wattpad (which I did not select when asked what websites I search for fanfiction on because I never willingly go looking there I just end up on it sometimes to my great frustration.):

Whatever idea it is that I’ve latched onto, I’ll enter it into the search bar on whatever browser I’m using, and open whatever links look most appealing in a new tab, giving preference to stories from any website except Wattpad* preference over tags or other collections, and links to Ao3 preference over links to anything else.

(*If links to Wattpad make it onto the first page of results, I’ll take whatever meager scrapings I was offer from other websites, then give up the search as a lost cause and pick a new idea as a I mourn the lack of the content I want to read. Only if I am already very attached to an idea and very desperate will I follow a link to wattpad. That website is the only one I have ever encountered worse then ff.net and it is an absolute unnavigable MESS.)

Tumblr:

If I’m on tumblr (mobile, I’ve never used tumblr on the computer but I don’t think it works the same) then once I find one thing to read that I like, I’ll begin tapping my way through the suggested posts on the bottom based on whatever looks the most interesting from what little I get to see of it. Sometimes I’ll end up on a specific blog or a specific tag, and I’ll just scroll through reading anything that looks even mildly cool regardless of whether it has anything to do with what I was originally searching for or not, until I click on a specific post for some reason (usually a “read more“), and then I’m back to navigating by suggested posts again. I tend to wander through fandoms and subfandoms a lot faster here, trading one interesting idea for the next as they’re presented to me. It’s a lot of fun and I sometimes discover completely new stuff! I’ll often end up following Authors I really like so that their stuff will end up in my feed, and this is really the only site on which I do that.

Just another couple comments on my general media consumption habits that I didn’t really see anywhere else to put:

Everything I stated about my fanfiction habits when getting into a new show applied if it’s a movie or book or game too, it’s just that 90% of the time it’s a show. My favorite movies are documentaries so I’m not sure what fanfiction for them would even look like, I prefer video essays and theories for games, and I just don’t read as many books as I used to. About half of the remaining 10% of the time is actually probably musicals.

It’s not unusual for me to have seen only three or so episodes of a show, but to have read insane amounts of fanfiction for it. I have difficulty sitting down to actually watch a show, and I usually only expend the effort for my absolute favorite series, so most of my interaction with most shows ends up being fanfiction. Getting into a new show because I came across some really good fanfiction for it is not uncommon either.

#100daysofwriting #how do I tag this #scribblings from the deep #I guess #fix tags later

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innocent-until-proven-geeky · 4 years

Note

for the character thing; cody, obi wan, and ur oc pova (is that how you spell it?)

YEAHYEAHYEAH (also that is how you spell it) I see we’re doing the whole family and I LOVE it.

I was in the middle of answering this and then I went to find my favorite episodes and Tumblr ate whatever I was working on sooooo I start over.

Cody

Why I like them: Sass. Fandom’s interpretation as Ultimate Big Brother (behind Alpha-17, of course). Mysterious scar. And he’s pretty.

Why I don’t: Honestly? The fact that the clones are slave soldiers, and the fact that fandom tends to give racially biased interpretations of the clones (I’m guilty of this too). Nothing to do with Cody himself, honestly, which isn’t to say he’s perfect or anything, I find him to be rough around the edges but who wouldn’t be in his shoes?

Favorite episode: s1e16 The Hidden Enemy. This one is probably on my top 5 list even without Cody. But guys. GUYS. “Hey there, Slick. Gun’s empty.” WHAT COULD BE MORE ICONIC?

Favorite film: Okay technically these questions were “episode/scene if a movie” and “season/movie” but because he’s in both I’m gonna have to go with a film for this one. Revenge of the Sith. Listen, I can’t watch ROTS without crying but damn if I don’t love Cody in it anyway. The lightsaber scene will ALWAYS get me. (Season 1 gets an honorable mention.)

Favorite line: Uh. Well. Okay so. “Hey there, Slick. Gun’s empty.” *holds up mag* LISTEN GUYS I LOVE THAT ONE. Although he also gets points for “I’m putting you in charge of this one.” I don’t know if season 1 just has a lot of iconic Cody lines, or if it’s because I’ve been watching that season in Spanish lately.

Favorite outfit: ... his armor? No actually though, I love his Phase II armor. Phase I is cool but Phase II has the cool ventilators. And how can I not make fun of his antenna?

OTP: Codywan. Ideally in a post-war fix-it or semi-fix-it where there isn’t a huge power imbalance, but I’ve been known to read Codywan stuff that takes place during the war, especially before I was as cognizant of the power imbalance as I am now.

BroTP: Cody and Rex. I’m sure y’all saw that one coming. I mean it’s CODY and REX, I’m pretty sure that’s everyone’s BroTP!

Headcanon: So this might be a good time to mention that I headcanon everyone everywhere as autistic. Everyone is autistic. Cody is autistic. Okay actually though, I headcanon that Cody has a great deal of anxiety. He handles it well, and he has a support system, but given his entire life, and the fact that he’s a Marshal Commander, and further more the headcanon we collectively have that Obi-Wan insists on promoting Cody to get out of paperwork because Cody deserves it, he’s probably anxious. And man, same.

Unpopular opinion: Do I have one? Tbh I don’t know how to determine whether an opinion about a character is unpopular. How do we define unpopular? Do we mean just like, not commonly known or shared? Because if so, I once again raise for your consideration: everyone is autistic, therefore Cody is autistic.

A wish: For Disney to retcon Order 66. Barring that, for the Bad Batch show to give him a happy ending involving the removal of his chip and the opportunity to live happily ever after with Obi-Wan on Tatooine. (Is the Bad Batch show going to be live-action like Kenobi? Because PLEASE give me Temuera Morrison playing Cody in both.)

An oh-gosh-please-don’t-ever-happen: Don’t laugh. Order 66. Listen I KNOW it’s canon but that doesn’t mean I have to like it!

5 words to best describe them: Salty. Snarky. Protective. Competent. Thoughtful.

My nickname for them: honestly, just Codes or Kote. Not much to get out of Cody, really.

Obi-Wan:

Why I like them: HE’S PRETTY. And sassy. There’s a pattern here.

Why I don’t: I don’t think there’s ever a time in canon that he acknowledges all the issues with the clones’ existence. He does in fanon, which I can appreciate, but canonically he’s like, “ah yes, we bought 3.2 million humans. We’ll just stick them in this war I guess.” Also frankly he’s a bit oblivious, bordering on daft, especially considering he’s the Negotiator, I mean he KEPT HIS LAST NAME when he went into hiding. I still love him though.

Favorite scene: That deleted “good girl, Boga” scene, which just hits different when you’ve read Master & Apprentice and know how much he loves varactyls. I don’t care that it’s deleted. It’s my favorite. (Plus you’ll probably like this better than my favorite episode, which is the Kadavo episode.)

Favorite film: Attack of the Clones. Listen listen listen, he has a lot of good moments in TCW, but hands down it’s AOTC.

Favorite line: Eheheheheheh. Eheheheheheheh. Eheheheheheheheheheheheheheheh. “Hello there!”

Favorite outfit: Was gonna make a comment about Jedi robes but then I remembered his stolen Mandalorian armor in The Lawless and *swoons* that’s one pretty outfit.

OTP: ... also Codywan. Again, ideally in an AU with less of a power imbalance, I mean it doesn’t matter how much he promotes Cody, canonically he’s still a Jedi and Cody is still a slave and I just don’t love that but I live for Codywan. Domestic Codywan? *chef’s kiss*

BroTP: probably Obi-Wan and Anakin. Maybe Obi and Padmé? Idk I have Thoughts about Anakin, he’s a problem child, but not much can top the agony in “You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!” (I like whump, okay?) Also just. Can you imagine the Negotiator just being buds with Senator Amidala? Helping each other with domestic disputes and speeches? Working on a Clone Rights Bill? Yeah. Can it be a broT3? What if we just don’t have Anakin and Padmé dating? It’s such an unhealthy relationship. That’s it, broT3 is Anakin, Padmé, and Obi-Wan.

Headcanon: ACE!OBI ACE!OBI ACE!OBI!!!!!! Also,,, autistic!Obi. I know I know, but actually genuinely @fromryloth-tocorellia has some pretty good autistic!Obi-Wan stuff, including Obi-Wan being semi-verbal, low-verbal, and non-verbal. Autistic characters is a hill I will die on, and Obi-Wan is a character I happen to enjoy projecting on (oops). Plus, if I headcanon Cody and Obi-Wan as autistic, then the entire Ibonek family is autistic, and I love that.

Unpopular opinion: The only reason Obi-Wan “left Anakin to die” was because there was nothing he could safely do to help. When I was taking first aid classes, one of the first things they told us was that, unless there is no danger to yourself, you do not help. You wait for actual first responders to show up. If Obi-Wan had tried to help Anakin, either Anakin would have killed him or Obi-Wan would also have been severely burned. And if he had stayed, he may have been caught by Palpatine. Is it sad that he left? Absolutely. Heartbreaking. I don’t think it was a GOOD decision. But he didn’t just leave him to die; there was no other safe option. There were no good decisions here. I have a lot of thoughts about this, I have half-written essays on Discord about it, feel free to ask further questions.

A wish: For Qui-Gon’s dying words to be retconned. I know I wrote that post about how his dying words were full of trust in Obi-Wan and I stand by that, but that doesn’t mean Obi-Wan realized that, or that they were a good choice.

An oh-gosh-please-don’t-ever-happen: For the Kenobi show to be sad. It’s not allowed. Obi-Wan can have one fight, and that’s it, he is happy as a clam on Tatooine because he DESERVES GOODNESS DAMNIT.

5 words to best describe them: Kind. Soft. Warm. Compassionate. Daft.

My nickname for them: Obi

Pova:

What I like about them: They’re my OC and I can do whatever I want with them!

What I don’t: They’re my OC and I’m in charge of them.

(Okay actually though:)

What I like about them: Nonverbal. Pink. Perpetually grumpy.

What I don’t: perpetually grumpy. Seriously how did that happen? Why did I do that? Why is the only time they AREN’T grumpy around Rex or when shopping with Obi-Wan?

Favorite scene: The adoption scene in “Observations on the Nature of Cody Ibonek”.

Favorite work: Probably “Observations”. It’s the first one that’s entirely from Pova’s point of view.

Favorite line: “He was making fun of my stimming. I was already having a bad day. I punched him. It’s whatever.” POVA NO. (Pova yes.)

Favorite outfit: Uh. Haven’t given it much thought yet? Haven’t done many character designs, although fromryloth-tocorellia did one for me and it’s my icon at @ver-writes-things if you want to check that out? Also my Halloween costume is gonna be a super basic cosplay of them and I’ll probably post that.

OTP: None. First of all, the oldest I’ve written them so far is 14. Second, I don’t have any other characters their age yet. Maybe the six kids from the Gathering episode survived? But even then I probably wouldn’t ship it. And I mean, not every character needs a romantic ship.

BroTP: Either Pova and Rex or Pova and Luke. Rex is like big brother/cool uncle, and Luke is like little brother. As of right now, though, definitely Rex, as I haven’t written much of anything with Luke.

Headcanon: I don’t have any because all my headcanons about this character are CANON! Man I love having OCs.

Unpopular opinion: to quote Paige Layle on TikTok: “Stop using the term low functioning autistics when you really mean that they’re just nonverbal. And nonverbal autistics still have a lot to say, they just have a hard time talking.” Basically, I’m certain that as this AU gains traction, Pova’s gonna start getting flak from readers for being nonverbal. It hasn’t happened yet, and maybe I’m just being pessimistic, but just in case someone needs the reminder: No. Stop now. Pova’s autistic. And nonverbal. And not a savant (man I fucking hate that trope). But they are a capable Jedi and, with Cody and Obi, developed a very functional sign language comprised of Jedi hand signals, trade sign language (like from episode 5 of the Mandalorian, that the Tuskens use?), and ARC signals. There will be NO functioning labels on this AU, and Pova has and will continue to have PLENTY to say. If you have a problem you know where the door is.

A wish: For everyone to love my kiddo as much as I do!

An oh-gosh-please-don’t-ever-happen: Listen Pova is gonna have a good and happy life. There is trauma and there is bullying and there is heartache but they are going to live a good life with two AMAZING dads. So there is no “don’t ever happen” because it won’t.

5 words to best describe them: Sneaky. Quiet. Excitable. Compassionate. Snarky.

My nickname for them: Kiddo or my kiddo.

#star wars #the clone wars #obi-wan kenobi #commander cody #OC Pova #Pova Ibonek

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as-write-as-rain · 5 years

Text

Love Song

Pairing: Bassist!Bucky x Singer!Reader

Summary: Everyone in this band is your best friend, but you wish the bassist was a little more than that.

Warnings: PG Language. Lots of Fluff!

This is for @kentuckybarnes' 3k Writing Challenge! Here's your Rockstar!AU one-shot featuring Bucky w/ a Bass, I hope you enjoy it!! Here's my first attempt at fanfiction, and I've probably been overthinking it, but I'm fairly happy with the result. Please be kind!

You drew your coat tighter around yourself, hurrying across the quiet street. The streetlight illuminated the snow drifting through the air, giving a peaceful feeling to the night…but you barely even noticed. You were running late for practice, and you really weren’t in the mood to hear another lecture from Steve – not after the day you’d had. Work had been busy as hell, because someone had called in sick and you had to pick up the slack; then, when you’d finally clocked out and headed to class, you got your philosophy paper back with a big fat D at the top. All you wanted to do right now was hang out somewhere warm with your favorite people in the world and make some music. Luckily, you were finally on your way there now!

Everyone looked up as you (accidentally) slammed the door open to Steve’s apartment. Tossing them a “sorry!” cringe, you stomped your boots on the mat, trying to dislodge as much snow as you could. The last thing you needed was a bunch of puddles creating a real safety hazard in the middle of your jam session! Stuffing your hat and scarf into a pocket, you hung your coat from one of the hooks on the wall, and joined your friends in the living room.

“’Bout time you got here, girl – we were wondering where you were!” Sam’s voice, dripping in sarcasm, made it crystal clear how he felt about having had to wait for you, and the withering look you shot him in response only made him laugh. You’d been friends since third grade, and always liked to give each other a hard time. Carol was setting up her keyboard, but she tossed you one of her patented wry smiles, her twinkling eyes speaking volumes about what she thought of Sam’s antics. Thankfully, Steve was engrossed in a pile of papers and only glanced up briefly enough to give you a quick nod as you passed, before returning to his work.

You took a deep breath to mentally prepare yourself before turning towards the couch, where you had already spied Bucky out of the corner of your eye. He had one leg up on the edge of the couch where he was tuning his bass, but as you approached he looked up and smiled. You steadfastly ignored the way it made your heart squeeze, and just gave him a breezy smile in return, dropping your laptop bag onto the cushions with a little more force than you meant to.

He instinctively leaned a little closer to you, and, in a quiet voice, asked, “How’s it going?” You glanced over, appreciating the way he tried to keep the question just between the two of you, instead of involving the whole room in the conversation. His attention was focused on the tuning pegs, but when you didn’t answer right away he looked over at you, tossing his head slightly so his shoulder-length hair fell back from his grey-blue eyes.

You sighed. “It’s going.” His expression turned sympathetic, and, with a half-shrug, you elaborated, “Today was kinda shit, but now I’m here and ready to rock out with you guys.”

His eyes searched yours, trying to make sure you were really okay, and the kindness and concern you saw in them made you secretly weak. “Well, I’m always here for you, if you wanna talk about it later.”

“Thanks, Buck,” was all you trusted yourself to say, and, with a small smile, you busied yourself with pulling out your music while he finished tuning his instrument. After a few seconds you peeked back at him out of the corner of your eye. His hair had fallen back across his face, and what you could see of his expression was once again serious. His focus was back on his gleaming silver guitar with its single bright red star, and you let your gaze linger on his lips before dropping to admire the way his muscles flexed while tuning it. Had he been working out? You could have sworn they were even bigger than usual, and he’d never been scrawny to begin with.

Steve cleared his throat and you quickly looked up to where he was standing in the middle of the room. “Anytime you’re ready, Y/N.” Trying not to look guilty (did he catch you checking Bucky out? Or is he just annoyed that you were late?), you nodded and stepped over to the mic.

Closing your eyes, you took three deep breaths, releasing the stress of the day and the pressures of the world; leaving behind the Harried Barista, Stressed College Student, and Pining Best Friend parts of your personality in favor of fully embodying your Rock Goddess persona. Everything that happened before this moment, you let fall away; right now, there was only you and the music. When you opened your eyes again, you felt fierce and self-possessed, filled with a deadly calm and ready to sing your heart out.

Carol was already poised, hands on the keys, and Sam sat behind his drum set, both of them looking to Steve, who was holding his guitar and tapping his foot to set the rhythm for the first song. Bucky got into position and faced forward, eyes on you. This was always his favorite part, watching you come alive in front of the mic. He saw your eyes open and your whole posture change, and he smiled to himself. Now we can rock.

Steve started first, then Sam, Carol, and Bucky last of all. You guys knew this song forwards and backwards, so it was almost like a warm-up for you. You grabbed the mic and started out quiet, gradually getting louder as the song built. It was so familiar and so freeing that you were grinning by the time the song was over. A glance at the rest of your friends told you they felt the same way.

The five of you had been friends forever, and Future Captains grew naturally out of your shared love of music. It started out as a fun project, but soon you realized you sounded really good together. Eventually, you’d all gotten kind of serious about it, and everyone had come into their own: Steve (and sometimes Carol) provided additional vocals, Sam was a genius at publicity, and Bucky excelled at managing most of what went on behind the scenes. And of course, everyone had only gotten better and better at playing their respective instruments as time went on. You loved to sing -- but more than that, you adored performing as a band, all of you creating music collectively, because it felt like you were part of something bigger than you, like you were sharing a soul for a few minutes in time. Whenever you sang, you felt powerful and unstoppable, and life seemed to make sense again. So, you eagerly lost yourself in the music, surrendering all your worries and just letting the songs flow through you.

After a couple of hours, you’d gone through all your material, both the older songs and the newer stuff you were still fine-tuning. You chugged from your water bottle and beamed at your band mates, invigorated. Carol winked, Sam gave you two thumbs up, and Bucky’s grin seemed to mirror your own.

Steve was smiling too, and as he started wrapping up cords and putting away his red, white, and blue guitar, he praised, “Great job, guys, we sounded amazing. I think we’re going to blow everyone away at the gig next week.” More smiles all around before he continued, “I’m almost done with those new songs I’ve been working on; I should have them done by Thursday’s practice, so we’ll try them out then.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait!” Carol cooed in that dry tone that always sounded a little teasing. When Steve glanced over to see whether she was being sincere, she continued, “I mean it! You’re a really great songwriter, Steve. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Steve blushed and shrugged. “Well, thanks. But I’m not the only one! You guys are super talented too, and if any of you ever want to write a song, just let me know. I’m more than happy to share the songwriting responsibilities!” He looked around the room, holding everyone’s gaze for a few seconds, looking at Bucky last. Bucky studiously avoided eye contact, busying himself with putting his own guitar away.

The mic was the easiest item of all to put away, so after stowing it in its box you’d helped Sam dismantle his drum set and store the pieces safely in the corner. Addressing the room at large, you clapped your hands together and asked in a chipper tone, “Anybody up for a drink down at the bar? I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve had a hell of a day.”

Sam was first to jump at the chance, and Carol was happy to join in. With an apologetic look, Steve explained that he had an early test tomorrow that he really needed to study for. Bucky hesitated just a second. “I’d love to, but I have an essay I need to finish.” Seeing your disappointment, he scrambled to add, “It’s almost done, maybe I can finish it up quick and meet you guys?” The three of you nodded, and he quickly decided that the smile you gave him was worth whatever grade he would end up getting on his half-baked paper.

He watched you, Carol, and Sam grab your jackets and head out the door, and when you turned back with a little wave, he gave you a grin that looked a lot more confident than he felt. The door shut, and he turned away, only to see Steve sitting at the kitchen table, regarding him knowingly.

Frowning, he growled, “What?”

“Nothing.” Steve’s voice was annoyingly patronizing.

With a sigh, Bucky turned towards his room, intending to ignore Steve’s smugness and hurry to finish his paper, but he’d gotten only a few steps before he heard him speak again.

“You should just tell her how you feel, Buck. I’m pretty sure she likes you, too. You guys would make a great couple.”

Whirling around, Bucky scowled at his roommate. “What are you talking about?”

Steve sat back in his chair and just gave him his patented look. Bucky jutted out his chin and crossed his arms, determined to be just as stubborn. Steve broke first, giving a short huff of laughter and shaking his head with a smile. “You’re my best friend, Buck, and so is she. It’s clear you have feelings for Y/N, and I wish you would just come clean, instead of pining over her and acting so weird and defensive. You’d be good for each other.”

Bucky looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve sighed. “Okay. We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to. I’ve got my test to study for anyway, and I know you’ve got to finish your paper.”

A little over a half hour later, Bucky sat at his computer, reading over his paper one last time. It definitely wasn’t his best work, but it was pretty solid. He’d probably get a C; anything higher than that would require significantly more time and effort, and he wasn’t willing to spend any more of either at this point. His mind was already thinking ahead to seeing you at the bar, maybe find out what was bothering you – or at the very least, get to cheer you up and spend some time together. He loved just being in your presence, making you laugh or smile. You were like the sun to him, you seemed to warm his very soul; and he couldn’t get enough.

He quickly emailed his essay to his professor, grabbed his stuff, and headed for the living room. Steve must have heard his footsteps, because he stuck his head out of the kitchen, probably about to nag him again. “Hey, Buck –“

Bucky cut him off, calling out loudly, “Sorry, Steve – gotta run!” as he rushed out the door into the cold.

Steve sighed, looking down at the books his roommate had left in the kitchen. The clutter was really distracting him (probably because he might have been eager for any distraction at all from his studying, which was turning out to be very boring indeed), and he had hoped Bucky would take his stuff back into his room. “I guess I’ll just do it myself, then,” he mumbled to himself, picking up the stack. A page fluttered out of the notebook on the bottom of the pile. “Oops,” Steve bent to retrieve it, and then pulled up short. He’d expected it to be chemistry notes, but this was laid out like a poem, and the unexpected formatting caught his attention.

His eyes skimmed over the stanzas. “Aw, Buck….” The wheels in his head started turning.

As soon as he opened the door to the bar, Bucky could hear one of his favorite sounds in the world: your laughter. The place was about as busy as you’d expect for a Tuesday, and it wasn’t hard to spy the three of you in a booth, laughing uproariously about whatever story Sam had just finished telling. He stopped at the counter to order a beer before heading your way. Carol spied him and waved animatedly, as though he hadn’t already seen you guys; you snorted at her antics and took another sip of your drink before giving him a quick hug hello.

Sam’s story seemed to remind Carol of something similar that had happened to her once, and soon the four of you were in stitches, imagining her incredibly serious Lit professor going to lean back against the desk like he always did – only to find that the desk wasn’t exactly where he thought it was…and ending up on his ass on the ground instead.

“Everybody laughed, even Dr. Snyder – and then he swept right back into discussing Camus again, as though nothing had happened. You would not have been able to handle it, Y/N!”

You put your hands on your hips, trying to look menacing, or at least offended. “What’s that supposed to mean??”

Sam shoved your shoulder, shaking his head and laughing. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t know what we’re talking about. You can never keep it together when something strikes you as funny – especially when everyone’s supposed to be super serious. Remember that assembly in high school where you couldn’t stop laughing and you ended up getting detention for it?”

You grimaced, facepalming when Bucky joined in the teasing, asking, “Which time??” The three of them laughed even harder, and you had to give it up and join them, even though you were blushing brightly. This is why you’d wanted to come to the bar, after all, to relax and just have some fun; and besides, you really couldn’t deny that they were absolutely right.

Once the laughter had died down, Carol stood up, announcing that she was going to request some songs on the Jukebox. Sam shouted after her, reminding her to put some Marvin Gaye in the rotation, and she rolled her eyes and waved a hand at him to signify that she was well aware of Sam Wilson’s Jukebox Rules. Satisfied, Sam sat back, taking a swig of beer and surveying the room.

“Hey, Buck, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that blonde in the corner hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you got here.”

Bucky, who’d been about to nudge you and try to initiate conversation, was startled by the sudden change in topic, and froze. “What?”

Sam leaned in conspiratorially, a smirk on his face. “It’s your lucky day, man; looks like she’s heading this way. And her friend is cute!”

You barely had time to react before the two girls reached the table, and Sam was already hailing them with that swagger that you usually made you laugh, but somehow tonight was just getting on your nerves.

The girls giggled, and you swore you saw the blonde bat her eyelashes at Bucky. Who does that??

You grabbed your drink and hopped out of the booth, trying to appear chill despite the sinking feeling in your stomach. “I think I need another one of these,” you mumbled, even though nobody had asked.

The blonde had placed her hand on Bucky’s bicep, but his eyes stayed on you as you marched up to the bar and shone that million-watt smile on the bartender. Of course the guy started flirting immediately, who could resist you? Clenching his jaw, Bucky turned his attention back to his admirer, who was asking, “You know, you guys look familiar, have we met before?”

Sam preened. “You might have seen our band play around town, we’re the Future Captains?”

The girls squealed. “That’s what it is! You guys rock!!”

The blonde squeezed Bucky’s arm. “You’re the bassist, right? You’re incredible,” she breathed.

He smiled widely despite himself. “Thanks for the compliment, doll.”

“We’re playing at the House of Blues next Wednesday night, you girls should come check us out.” Sam really excelled at promoting the band, which Bucky was secretly grateful for, since it meant he didn’t have to hold up much of a conversation, and could continue watching you surreptitiously. The bartender was being extra friendly, and Bucky was trying really hard not to crush his beer bottle in his fist.

The conversation around him carried on without him even noticing, and he almost didn’t even hear Sam addressing him directly.

“Bucky, you coming, man?”

He focused back in on Sam’s face, searching his memory to see if he could remember the last thing someone had said. “Uh…”

Sam rolled his eyes. “To the party? That these lovely ladies have invited us to?” He gave him a very pointed look, clearly trying to telegraph something with his eyes. Whatever he was trying to say, it was definitely lost on Bucky.

“Uh, no, thanks. I’m gonna hang with Y/N, that was the whole point of coming here, after all – what kind of friend would I be if I abandoned her?”

Sam paused. “You’re right, bro, maybe I should stay too?”

Glancing around at the ladies waiting impatiently, and Sam’s conflicted expression, he made a quick decision. “Nah, you go. It’s totally your scene, and I’m sure she’ll understand. I just don’t want to leave her completely alone.”

Sam shrugged, standing and putting an arm around each of his new fans. “You’re right. She’s a big girl, she’ll get it. And it’s not like she can’t handle herself.” With a quick wave in your direction, and one at Carol (who was still close to the jukebox, seemingly deep in conversation with an admirer of her own), he donned his jacket and left.

Meanwhile, you were flattered by the bartender’s attention, and while it wasn’t really doing much to raise your spirits, it did ensure that you got a nice, strong drink. Besides, he was cute enough, and you knew from experience how hard a job in the service industry could be. So you played along with his small talk; it’s not like you were in a rush to get back to your friends and watch some strange girl fawn all over Bucky. But the bar soon got a bit of a rush, and when you snuck a glance back at the table, you were surprised to discover Bucky sitting all by himself, with neither strange girls nor Sam anywhere in sight. Grabbing your drink and sliding the bartender a generous tip, you made your way to Bucky.

He greeted you with a big smile, sliding over to let you into the booth. “Where’d Sam go?” you asked, searching the room one last time as you sat down.

“He went to a party with his new friends,” Bucky offered.

“You didn’t want to go?”

Your surprise was written all over your face, and Bucky shrugged, chuckling. “And leave my best girl behind? No way!”

You took a sip of your drink to disguise how flustered you felt. You were his best girl? What did that even mean?? You settled for playfully elbowing him in the ribs. “Well, thanks, Buck. I definitely appreciate it.”

The grateful smile on your face made his heart explode, and he was instantly glad for every decision he’d made tonight. He impulsively put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in for a side hug.

You returned his hug with a happy sigh, and when he didn’t withdraw his arm after the hug was over, you snuggled in close to him. It almost felt like old times, before you had developed this pesky crush and were just as comfortable being affectionate with Bucky as with the rest of the group.

Speaking of, you spied Carol finally returning to the table, and grinned. “And where have you been?” you teased.

She rolled her eyes as she climbed back into the booth. “What can I say? Who am I to snub a fan?” The three of you laughed at her pretended cockiness, and you settled in to listen to her next hilarious story. Your heart felt lighter and happier than it had all day, and once again you gave thanks for having such awesome friends in your life.

Your spirits were high by the time the next rehearsal rolled around. The rest of the week had been pretty low-key at work, and you hadn’t had any big assignments or tests in any of your classes, which was a relief. You even talked Carol into heading to practice early, hoping to hang out with your bandmates a little longer.

You stopped by work to grab a round of coffees (or hot chocolates!) for everyone, and then headed to Steve’s. When you & Carol got there, they’d left the door unlocked for you, and you walked in to find them watching some ridiculous old 90s movie they found playing on cable. They greeted both of you with smiles and hugs (and excitement about the drinks!), and invited you to join them. After only the slightest hesitation, you opted to sit on the sofa next to Bucky, while Carol sank into one of the big plushy chairs facing the TV. Bucky grinned at you as you sat down, and you couldn’t help but notice he looked even better than usual today, in a blue shirt that really brought out the color of his eyes. He stretched his arm across the back of the couch, inviting you to snuggle up close to him as always, and you couldn’t resist doing so. He was so warm and safe, which was quite a welcome situation to be in after walking in the snow. So you curled up into his side and took a fortifying sip of your cocoa, letting yourself be warmed both inside and out.

The movie was over by the time Sam arrived, and the four of you had just been chatting about life, work, school, and upcoming gigs. Carol was draped sideways over the arms of the comfy chair, her hair hanging over one side and her legs dangling over the other; Steve sat on the floor with his back against the couch, fiddling with an old Rubik’s cube he’d found under the coffee table.

As Sam grabbed himself something to drink from the fridge, Steve checked the clock and realized it was time to get rehearsal started. Standing in front of you all still in the TV room, he adopted the tone you all recognized as Business Steve.

“Okay guys, I finished the songs I was working on, you ready to hear them?”

You all whooped in response, enthusiastic as ever to hear what Steve came up with. He was great with lyrics, but it was really his melodies and arrangements that always blew you away, personally. He had a real talent for that sort of thing, and you loved to encourage him.

Steve dragged over a music stand and his acoustic guitar, sitting down in the comfy chair that Carol had vacated to join you on the couch. Sam plopped himself into the other comfy chair, still nursing his drink. Steve played a few chords, and just as you thought he was about to sing, he stopped and coughed.

“Uh, Buck, you think you could help me with this?”

Bucky looked like he’d been caught passing notes in class. “Huh?”

“Wanna come up here and sing this for me?”

“Why?” Bucky said, blankly. You didn’t blame him for being confused; Steve usually debuted new songs by singing them himself, and this was the first time he’d ever asked someone else to do it instead.

“Because my asthma has been acting up, and I don’t think I can do it today.” Steve sounded like he was trying very hard to be patient, and you fought to keep yourself from snickering at how odd he was acting.

Bucky stood up, looking concerned. “Oh shit, man, I’m sorry. I hadn’t even noticed. Have you been wheezing or anything? Should we make a doctor’s appointment?”

Steve’s face was starting to turn red, and you grabbed onto Carol’s arm, biting your lip and avoiding eye contact with her, knowing it would make you crack up. She put her hand over yours and gave a sympathetic squeeze as Steve continued in a slightly strained voice. “I think I’ll be okay, Buck, but I just don’t want to exacerbate it by singing today. Can you just please come sing for me instead?”

Bucky obediently got up and crossed the room, taking the pages Steve handed him and looking them over. You were so busy struggling to control the laughter that was threatening to burst out of you, you didn’t even notice how Bucky suddenly got really still and tense. His eyes hardened, and darted over suspiciously to Steve, who was diligently focused on his guitar, apparently tuning it even though he’d been playing it just fine minutes before.

“What is this?” Bucky asked in a steely tone, very quietly so that only Steve could hear.

“It’s our new song,” Steve announced brightly to the room in general. “You ready to start, Buck?”

Bucky swallowed, glancing quickly at everyone, his eyes lingering just a second longer on you before going back to the music in his hands. There really was no way out of this, he had to just plow through and hope he made it to the other side. “Sure.” His voice was rough, and he cleared his throat and took a drink of water.

Steve smiled a wide, too-innocent smile, and started strumming again. After a few moments, Bucky began to sing.

I know every little thing about you And you know all about me too But not everything, I have a secret How have you not noticed yet?

You had always loved Bucky’s voice, gravelly and rich. But for whatever reason, he usually preferred to leave the vocal parts to Steve, so you didn’t get to hear him sing as often as you’d liked. Your earlier amusement already forgotten, you smiled, letting his warm voice wash over you while you listened to the lyrics and tried to imagine yourself singing this song in the future.

We've known each other since we were small Never dreamed that I would fall But every day I have to pretend Because you’re also my best friend

His voice, tremulous at first, had grown stronger as the song continued, but on this last line it cracked just a little. Then the rhythm changed, and it was clear the chorus was approaching.

You shine like the sun and I'm only a shadow The center of my world but you'll never know You're everything I've ever wanted I'm haunted

The song was beautiful, but, more than that, the lines were breaking your heart. They seemed to exactly describe how you felt about Bucky. But, how did Steve know? Was this some kind of joke? Had he figured out how you felt and was outing you to Bucky? Even as these panicked thoughts occurred to you, your rational mind had to point out Steve would never be that cruel. But as the verses started up again, you sat up a little straighter, trying to pay closer attention to what was really going on here.

When we're together, I have to hide Got to keep it all inside But deep within I'm falling apart Because I’m already losing my heart

The emotion in Bucky’s voice was raw, and you found yourself incredibly moved. And in that moment, your heart seemed to stop. Maybe this song wasn’t from your point of view at all. But did you dare to hope?

I don't know what to say So I hold my tongue another day What if you don't feel the same? I don't want anything to change

You shine like the sun and I'm only a shadow The center of my world but you'll never know You're everything I've ever wanted I'm haunted

The notes slowed down and time seemed to stretch out with them, as he sang the final coda.

I'd give everything just to have you be mine Worship you all of the time But I'm so afraid to cross that line

As the song ended and the last chords died out, a silence hung in the room, like the world was holding its breath. Your eyes were threatening to overflow with tears, but you didn’t move. Bucky stood still, not looking up; afraid to see your reaction. He felt like his heart had been laid bare, and he was terrified to see what came next.

You looked back and forth between him and Steve, desperately trying to figure out if what you hoped was happening was actually true. When you caught Steve’s eye, he was already looking directly at you. He raised a brow and ever so slightly tipped his head, nodding towards Bucky.

You felt frozen; you didn’t know what to do. Next to you, Carol cleared her throat, and suddenly you remembered there were other people in the room.

“Great song, I love it!” she crowed, her voice startlingly loud after such an extended quiet. “Um, Sam, I just remembered I have something I wanna show you. In the kitchen.” She practically leapt off the couch, and Sam followed her lead immediately.

Steve stood up too, mumbling something about having to wash some dishes, and scooted out of the room on their tail. You gave an amused exhalation at their lack of subtlety, but for the first time in your life the humor was tempered by a situation that needed your more immediate attention.

Bucky had yet to move from where he stood, though he was now staring after Steve with a somewhat incredulous look on his face. You took a deep breath and found your voice, though your heart was in your throat.

“Bucky?”

You were so quiet that you wondered if he’d even be able to hear, but he turned toward you, fingers fiddling with the music sheets. He kept his eyes downcast, still avoiding eye contact. “Y/N…”

You waited to see what he was going to say, but when he trailed off, you decided to speak again. “That song…that was amazing.”

The emotion in your voice was what tugged his eyes up to meet yours. “Yeah?” The ghost of a smile appeared around his lips, but his gaze was hopeful.

You smiled softly, taking a few steps closer to him. “Yeah.”

He flushed, glancing down at the page again. “Steve –“

You stopped abruptly, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “Steve?” You questioned, in a disbelieving tone, though your eyes twinkled with amusement. “Is that who I should be talking to right now?”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “He – he wrote the music, but…no, the words are mine.” He searched your face hesitantly, and he slowly crossed the last few steps between you.

You stared into his eyes for a few moments, feeling like you might drown in them. Finally, in a voice that was barely a whisper, “And?” When his eyebrows quirked in slight confusion, you added, “Did you mean it?”

At this, he smiled broadly, and his response was soft. “Every word.”

He carefully placed a hand on your hip, his gaze questioning. He was so close to you now, and you were on the precipice of everything you’d been dreaming of. Tossing the final vestiges of your caution to the wind, you wove your hand into his hair, pulling him the last few inches towards you, answering him with a kiss.

He responded eagerly, bringing his other hand up to gently cup your face. His lips were soft and tender, his kiss urgent and worshipful. He kissed you like you were the answer to everything he’d ever searched for, and for you it felt like the whole world clicked perfectly into place.

When you finally broke the kiss, it was with a happy sigh. Bucky affectionately nuzzled your nose with his own before resting his forehead gently against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that forever.” The way he was looking at you was making your heart soar like a balloon.

You couldn’t help but smile giddily. “Me too.”

Sam’s voice from the kitchen broke through your shared reverie. “You lovebirds done yet? We doing any actual practicing today or what?”

You and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

#hannahs3kwritingchallenge #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel

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wild-oats-and-cornflowers · 5 years

Text

Here is my barricade day 2019 contribution! Everyone else seems to have the Angst And Death angle covered, so I’m going a different way, and bring you 100% guaranteed sadness-free shippy fluff. You know, in case people need an emotional hanky or something :D

Title: Convergence

Summary, as posted on AO3:

“Ordinarily he enjoyed a good walk, but today he found himself wishing that Combeferre lived just a little closer to his own rooms. But cold weather or not, it had become something of a routine with the two of them to visit each other’s rooms on Saturday afternoons, to share books and dinner and conversation, and Combeferre had come to him last week, so it was only fair.

Prouvaire and Combeferre find that they've grown closer than they realized.”

Fic below the cut:

Chapter 1: Prouvaire (There will be a ch. 2, but I need to write it first)

Gray clouds scudded along overhead and a thin, cutting wind went skirling up the street, disturbing the light dusting of snow that lay scattered across the cobblestones. Jean Prouvaire shivered slightly as the breeze snaked a cold tendril down his collar, pulling his coat up more tightly around his neck. Ordinarily he enjoyed a good walk, but today he found himself wishing that Combeferre lived just a little closer to his own rooms. But cold weather or not, it had become something of a routine with the two of them to visit each other’s rooms on Saturday afternoons, to share books and dinner and conversation, and Combeferre had come to him last week, so it was only fair.

Combeferre greeted Prouvaire with a smile and an inquiry as to whether he had read the essay on freedom of the will that Combeferre had recommended last week. He had, and they wrangled pleasantly over the points raised by the article while Combeferre made soup and Prouvaire poked around among the rock and mineral specimens currently taking up much of the surface of Combeferre’s desk. The last time he had been there, the desktop had featured anatomical specimens instead. Although the stones he was now investigating offered significantly less invitation to contemplate the ineffable nature of human mortality, Prouvaire had to admit that they also offered significantly less insult to his nose.

The soup was finished, and they shared it, the conversation turning from philosophical questions to a discussion of the play Combeferre had attended two nights prior. Prouvaire, who had seen it three weeks previously and had been urging his friend to go ever since, was delighted to find several of his own opinions on the plot and acting shared, and almost as delighted to argue about the areas on which they differed.

“Oh!” Combeferre interrupted himself in the middle of explaining to a mildly indignant Prouvaire why he felt that the lead actress had not carried a particular scene as well as she could have done. “I forgot, I found that novel you were interested in. I hadn’t loaned it out after all; it had fallen behind the other books on the shelf.” He hopped up from the table and went over to one of the bookshelves. Prouvaire gathered the dishes and put them in the dishpan---“Thanks,” said Combeferre---took the novel, and sprawled inelegantly and happily on the divan, while Combeferre settled himself in the armchair set at right angles to it and opened a treatise on geology. They had developed a habit, at these times, of alternating reading with conversation. Prouvaire would have found this deeply irritating had anyone else tried it. To be spoken to, intruded on, while deep in a book, was one of his least favorite things. But all the summer and autumn and into the beginning of winter in which they now found themselves, he had gradually begun accepting it from Combeferre alone until now it bothered him not at all. It had long ceased to feel like an intrusion and had become a way in which Prouvaire felt that they communicated the closeness into which they had grown.

The chiming of the clock on the mantle, in a stretch of quiet, startled both of them. December brought the darkness early, and Combeferre had lit the lamp not long after they began to read. They had not noticed the progression of the hours. “Ten o’clock!” said Prouvaire in surprise. “I had not meant to stay so late.”

“These evenings always do go by too soon,” Combeferre said, smiling.

As Prouvaire collected his outerwear, Combeferre went to the window and pulled the curtains open. “Hmm,” he said, peering out into the darkness.

“Hmm?” Prouvaire was trying to remember where he had put his gloves.

“It looks a bit fierce outside.”

Prouvaire discovered the gloves in the pocket of his overcoat and extracted them triumphantly. “Is it snowing?” he said.

“Quite a lot, actually. Look.”

Prouvaire padded over and looked. The lamps were lit in the street below, but there was not much street to be seen. It was thickly covered and sparkling in the lamplight, and the air was filled with whirling whiteness. “Hmm,” Prouvaire said.

“My sentiments exactly.” Combeferre rubbed his chin. “It might be a good idea for you to stay the night here. It does not look very, ah, hospitable outside.” He returned to his chair and picked up his geology treatise again.

“I suppose you are right.” Prouvaire tossed his outer garments in the general direction of the trunk on which he had originally draped them. “Hopefully there will be less weather in the morning, and your bed was certainly big enough for two the last time I stayed over.” The last time he had stayed over, they had both been drinking, and Prouvaire, who tended to be a very affectionate drunk, had wakened the following morning to find himself practically on top of Combeferre, hugging his arm. He chuckled slightly at the memory and glanced over at Combeferre, expecting to find his amusement shared, but Combeferre was staring down at the book in his lap, looking, Prouvaire was surprised to note, vaguely uncomfortable. He made no reply, and after a moment Prouvaire went back to the divan and took up his novel again.

He made a few attempts to resume the intermittent conversation, but Combeferre responded to his sallies only in short phrases and kept his eyes fixed on the page in front of him. Combeferre seems to have grown a bit uneasy, Prouvaire thought. He will not look at me. Why? Aloud he asked, “Is everything all right?” Combeferre jumped slightly. “Yes,” he answered tardily, flushing. That is a lie, Prouvaire thought. But Combeferre never tells lies. He hesitated, then said “Forgive me, but you seem a bit tense. Are you certain it is not a problem for me to stay here tonight?”

“Of course it isn’t,” Combeferre answered. “Why would it be?” But his voice carried a standoffish note that troubled Prouvaire. “Well,” he said. “Only you are twitching a bit, and there is a certain tone in your voice. Have I done or said something to upset you?”

“It is nothing for you to worry about. Read your book.”

Prouvaire felt the sting of the brush-off as if Combeferre had lightly slapped him. Hurt, and wanting real reassurance, he pressed on, despite knowing underneath that it was unwise, “But if I---”

“Let it be,” Combeferre interrupted him brusquely, and his voice this time held a real edge.

A baffled soreness expanded in Prouvaire’s chest. He attempted to return to his novel, but he felt his face burning and knew he would not be able to focus on the story. Abruptly he sat up straight, slapping the covers loudly shut. He got up off the divan and stalked over to the door, where he sat down on the floor and grabbed his boots.

“What are you doing?” demanded Combeferre in a tone of mild alarm.

“I am very sorry,” Prouvaire said stiffly from the floor, “for having offended you, and if you do not wish to discuss it, you are within your rights not to do so, but as I do not wish to upset you any further, I am going home.” He yanked at a boot crossly.

“For heaven’s sake, Prouvaire. You cannot walk home in this weather.”

“I can do a great many things,” Prouvaire informed him, one boot off and one boot on, “and I do not require your permission for any of them. Anyway, there may be a fiacre or so that I can hire.”

“It is vanishingly unlikely that there will be such…” Combeferre began, then sighed. He rose and came a few paces towards Prouvaire, then stopped. “I assure you,” he said, “that you have done nothing wrong. It is only…something I was thinking of for a moment, that caused me to be sharp. I should not have snapped at you. I am sorry.”

Combeferre looked both anxious and genuinely penitent. Prouvaire felt all at once extraordinarily affectionate towards him, and also slightly embarrassed about his outburst. “Oh, well,” he mumbled, tugging at the heel of his boot. “If you are quite sure it’s all right?”

“Yes, quite. Please don’t go running out into the snow on my behalf.” The corner of Combeferre’s mouth quirked upwards slightly in a way Prouvaire had seen dozens of times but which he suddenly found extremely charming. He smiled fondly up at his friend and said, “Then I will sleep chez toi tonight after all.” Combeferre’s mouth un-quirked and a peculiar expression crossed his face. He nodded and turned hastily back towards his chair as Prouvaire rose from the floor.

Prouvaire re-ensconced himself on the divan, this time curled up into the corner near Combeferre’s chair. For some reason he could not articulate, he felt a desire to be physically near him. Sudden, impulsive desires to do arbitrary things were not an uncommon experience for Prouvaire, and he generally indulged them if they did not seem likely to cause trouble. He did not question this one any more than he usually did, merely accepted it. Soon he was lost in the pages of his novel again. The heroine was the most absurdly melodramatic fictional character Prouvaire had ever encountered, and her adventures wildly improbable. It was an enchanting tome, and it rendered him quite insensible to his surroundings until the heroine’s father said something that was so very Combeferre-esque that it propelled him back to reality.

Intending to read the passage aloud to Combeferre and demand of him, isn’t that exactly the kind of thing you always say, Prouvaire looked over at his friend. He was surprised to see that Combeferre had not apparently returned to the world of geology---the book lay open on his lap, but he was staring at the floor with a serious, pensive expression on his face. It may not be me, Prouvaire thought, but something truly is bothering him. Driven by another of those inarticulate impulses, he pulled himself up onto the arm of the divan on his elbow. He leaned towards Combeferre and said “Er…”

Combeferre started and turned towards him. “Yes?” he said, pushing his spectacles farther up the bridge of his nose.

“I, ah, I don’t mean to pry,” Prouvaire said diffidently, “and you don’t---I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it, that really is fine, it’s your business, but it is only, you know, you looked unhappy, so I thought, I don’t know, maybe, is there anything I can do? To help, or make you feel better---” He cut himself off there, knowing he was babbling. He felt his face grow warm as Combeferre’s assumed an expression he had not seen before, a curious softness of the eyes accompanied by a faint, gentle curving of the mouth. Suddenly abashed, Prouvaire dropped his head like a child. “Anyway,” he said.

Long, sturdy fingers gently tilted his chin back up, then retreated. Combeferre was regarding him thoughtfully, from a disconcertingly close vantage point. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then hesitated. “It’s nice to have you here,” he said finally. Prouvaire thought, I don’t know what you started out to say, but I’ll wager that wasn’t it.

“It’s nice to be here,” he replied anyway, feeling an obscure need to make conversation. “I like your rooms. I like ransacking your bookshelves and investigating your minerals and moths and such. And---” he felt his breath catch oddly. “I like the company I find here very much. Very much, actually.” He fought the urge to look away again.

Combeferre was looking pensive once more, but he did not appear unhappy. “Well,” he said slowly, “I am honored. Thank you.” He tilted his head a bit, as though Prouvaire were a curious specimen which he was examining. His hair fell softly over his forehead, shining in the lamplight. His eyes behind the lenses of his spectacles were large and luminous and solemn. Prouvaire thought, I could look at him like this forever. Without even thinking about it, he leaned forward and kissed him. For a moment, he thought that Combeferre would pull away, but then his hand came up to cradle the back of Prouvaire’s head as he leaned into the kiss.

They broke for air. Combeferre’s hand gently slid downwards to curl around the back of Prouvaire’s neck, eliciting a shiver from him. He smiled into Combeferre’s eyes and said, “Yes, very much.”

Combeferre dropped his head. His shoulders shook with quiet laughter. “You,” he said. “Me,” Prouvaire agreed happily.

Combeferre looked up again, laughter fading. He took his hand away and sat back in his chair, biting at his thumbnail absently. He said, “Jehan.” Prouvaire blinked. Combeferre was not generally given to the use of nicknames. “Have you thought about this, or are you just moving on impulse?”

Intellectually, Prouvaire supposed it was a fair question, given his tendency to spontaneity and the fact that this was all new ground. Nonetheless, it made him flinch. He said hesitantly, “I…I don’t know…it felt right, and I…” He cast about for the words to explain himself. “I think…I think I have wanted to do that for a long time. Only I didn’t know it, or didn’t understand it. It’s as if…as if something fell into its proper place…” He trailed off, frustrated at his inability to translate his own meaning properly. I am ordinarily very good at articulating myself, he thought, why do my faculties desert me.

Combeferre was frowning slightly; Prouvaire interpreted the expression as disapproval, and was taken aback by the stab of pain it generated. He felt hot tears rise in his eyes in response and curled in on himself a little, turning his face away from Combeferre and twisting his hands together in his lap. He heard Combeferre exhale sharply through his nose and push his chair back a bit, and then he was on the divan beside Prouvaire, laying a hand on his arm. “Jehan,” he said again, gently.

“I’m sorry,” Prouvaire muttered.

“No.” Combeferre embraced him, very carefully, and a little awkwardly. “No, Jehan, don’t…” He broke off and dropped a light kiss on Prouvaire’s temple. Prouvaire leaned his forehead into Combeferre’s shoulder. “Have you thought about this,” he whispered, “is that what you were thinking about earlier, that made you uneasy?”

“Well,” said Combeferre. He did not elaborate, but he tightened his hold on Prouvaire slightly.

Prouvaire took this for an affirmation. He felt an upwelling of tenderness in his soul, almost more than he could bear. Lightheaded with it, he wrapped his own arms around Combeferre’s waist and pressed his face into the soft fabric of his loosely tied cravat. He felt Combeferre bring one hand up to pet his hair, then push his collar down to stroke the back of his neck, feather-light. The sensation sent another shiver down Prouvaire’s spine and he turned his head slightly to press his lips against the side of Combeferre’s throat. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath, and, encouraged by this, pulled back a bit so that he could hook one arm around Combeferre’s neck and kiss his mouth again.

Combeferre matched his enthusiasm, pulling Prouvaire as close as he could; in fact, he pulled him in a little too tightly, causing Prouvaire to overbalance and knock Combeferre over onto his back, falling atop him in an ungraceful tangle. Both lay startled for a moment, then they began to laugh. Prouvaire’s left arm was pinned between Combeferre and the divan. They were pressed so tightly together that Prouvaire could feel Combeferre’s every breath, the shaking of his laughter, the hard edge of his hipbone under Prouvaire’s own. He swallowed and raised his free hand to softly run a single fingertip along the smooth curve of Combeferre’s cheekbone, to trace the delicate outline of his mouth. Combeferre looked up at him earnestly. He turned his head a little to kiss Prouvaire’s fingers, then smiled warmly at him. Prouvaire’s breath caught almost painfully in his throat. He thought, You are the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever seen or will see.

Later, they lay in bed together, Prouvaire’s head resting on Combeferre’s shoulder. Idly, he traced small circles on Combeferre’s arm with a fingertip, watching the shadow on the wall echo his movement. He wondered lazily whether such a state of perfect contentment could be considered an example of the sublime. There was nothing grand or crashing or dramatic about it, but his whole being seemed to be quietly vibrating with a subtle and pervasive joy that he could not recall ever experiencing before. His soul was brimming with Combeferre like a glass of water filled to the absolute edge, to the point where one more drop would send the rest pouring out in a torrent. Prouvaire let his hand rest on Combeferre’s bicep. He half-shut his eyes, breathing slowly to try and contain himself.

Combeferre, holding Prouvaire close, pressed his cheek against the top of his head. This was the last drop needed to cause an overflow. Prouvaire flopped over onto his stomach and furiously pressed his lips against Combeferre’s, burrowing one hand under his head and gripping his shoulder with the other. “You have entirely too much energy,” Combeferre informed him when they broke off. His eyes seemed wider than usual now that his spectacles lay on the table by the bed, rather than sitting on his nose. Probably they were having to work harder to see, Prouvaire thought. He rather liked the effect of surprised guilelessness it created. “I have precisely the necessary amount of energy, actually,” he said.

“Didn’t you burn any off just now?”

“No,” Prouvaire lied. He was rather tired now that he thought about it, but he didn’t want to go to sleep. He wanted to stay awake so he could look at and talk to and touch Combeferre.

Combeferre chuckled. “You,” he said fondly. Then, “Oh…it occurs to me. It’s rather a cold night---let me fetch a couple of nightshirts before…”

“No nightshirts,” Prouvaire stated firmly, depositing a kiss on Combeferre’s bare chest.

“You are impossible.” Combeferre pulled Prouvaire down next to him. “Lie quietly for a bit, won’t you? I’m tired, even if you are not.”

“Oh very well,” Prouvaire said, draping himself half over top of Combeferre and pressing his face into his shoulder. Combeferre turned his head and lightly kissed Prouvaire’s forehead.

“Good night,” he said.

Good, thought Prouvaire, beginning to relax into drowsiness, was not quite sufficient a descriptor. Marvelous might do better, or lovely, or enchanting, or…and before he could continue listing preferable adjectives, he was asleep.

#les mis #fan fiction #my fic #barricade day #no sads here #just fluff #combeferre #jean prouvaire #combeferre x prouvaire #it is SFW btw #s/o to the approximately 2 other people who ship this #les miserables

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captainvictoryboat · 7 years

Text

Behind The Scenes 4 (9/9)

Author’s note: ... As you can see front he title, I am going to finish things here. This is not at all a proper ending. I am only posting the last scene that i wrote... I am sorry that i am ending it all now. I know i said i was going to have another scenes, but i can’t get myself to wrtie it. Please read what i have to say at the end.

Genre: Angst

Word count: 2443

Summary: Jimin is starting to notice y/n and Jungkook are acting weird.

ALL PARTS

After weeks of slow healing, you were finally on your feet and back to your duties. Honestly after the weeks of being forced to stay in your room, on your potato sack of a bed, you enjoyed getting to clean. You were almost completely free of pain and you were able to move around on your own.

Right now you were washing dishes, playing with the soap bubbles. Why? Because finally no one else was around to annoy you. Technically V was in the living room, “keeping on eye on you”, but he never suffocated you like everyone else. He was on the couch watching tv. He put on your favorite drama and made sure to put the volume extra loud so that you could hear it from the kitchen. Actually now that you looked over at the tv. You could see him asleep where he sat. You didn’t blame him for knocking out, After the hours of practice everyone else went to their rooms and went to sleep once they had food in their bellies. Jungkook was the only one that didn’t pass out. You only saw him for a second because he only came to change and then “left for the gym”. That was something you didn’t completely believe. You doubted he had enough energy after practice to go work out. But then again you didn’t really care where he went, you were busy enjoying your limited freedom.

You were on the third load of dishes when the door opened. No surprised, it was the maknae. Bit of damp hair poked out from under his beanie and he unload the heavy gym bag that was rested no his shoulder.

A tired smile grew on his face when he saw you by the sink. You pretended not to notice.

“Hey.” His voice was soft as he went around the breakfast bar and placed himself just a few feet away from you.

“Hi” you mumbled. From the corner of you eye you could see him leaned against the counter.

“So Tae’s knocked out? Where is everyone else?”

You were relieved that he asked you something that didn’t related to your health or emotional state.

“Sleeping. They knocked out after dinner.”

“Is there any food left?”

“In the fridge.”

Jungkook ran over to the other end of the kitchen and dug himself into the fridge. “Spaghetti!” he cheered as he pulled out the large bowl of food, enough for three people. “Awesome!”

He shoved the plate into the microwave ad stared at it as it rotated for the three minutes he set it for.

You took a peek at him. noticing how intensely he was staring at the food. “He must be hungry.” you thought. Looking back at the whole day, the last time he ate was at breakfast and even then he only ate half his plate because he woke up late. A part of you felt a tiny bit bad that he was taking his diet to this extreme.

“Hot hot hot hot hot” he winced as he carried the steaming plate back to his spot near you. He pulled out a fork from the drawer and began his feast.

He scooped up a whole load of noodles an shoved it into his mouth. He chopped down as if he hadn’t eaten in a week.

“Ah! Hot! This is so good!” he moaned as he shoved another scoop into his mouth..

“Thanks.” You said with slight disgust from witnessing him attacking the plate. He was like a wild animal, practically eating off the plate. Bits of noodles were flying, sauce dripping from this mouth, red residue collecting on his cheeks.

“you made it?” he asked with a mouth full or full. “ I forgot how good your cooking was.” He said as he continued to devour the food “So how were things after I left?”

“Normal.” You avoided looking at him. Seeing him eat was one thing, but know the sounds he was making was getting to you.

The heavy breathing, slurping, chewing, moaning in satisfaction, all signs of him enjoying his meal, but it was all disgusting to you. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“That’s good.” He mumbled.

You weren’t too sure if the disgust was manifesting from the fact that you over ate and that food in general was too much, or that the way he was eating was genuinely unruling “Has he always eaten this way?”

“The cold is so annoying.” He said between chews.

“Hm.”

“But the heater in the car is good. Sometimes I take the long way home to stay warmer longer.”

“Oh”

You had a few plates left in the sink. You decided it was just best to focus on finishing those that to interest with him more than you had to.

“Ah! That was sooooooo good!” he huffed, dropping the fork on the plate

You took another peek and saw the plate was practically wiped clean. “How did he eat all that?!?”

“Don’t worry about this plate. I’ll clean it and put everything else away.” He said as he walked past you.

He grabbed a napkin and wiped everything off his face. Then he grabbed another one, creeping up behind you and quickly soaking it as you rinsed the last of the dishes.

He was successful in cleaning in face. It was as if he wasn’t covered in a face full of sauce a second ago. Again, he leaned on the counter, this time casually looking at you with a small smile. “You seem happy being out of the room.”

“Yeah?” you asked the the most life less tone you could

“Yeah! You have been locked away for weeks, honestly I don’t know how you did it.”

“Niether did i.”

He continued to observe you. His content mona lisa smile remained on his face. You hoped that he was either going to bring up something else to talk about (to make things less awkward) or leave. Of course begin the unpredictable person he was, he did neither of those. What did he do? Something that only mad your soul leave your body.

The boy who was technically still your boyfriend, the one who promised he wouldn’t do this exact thing for a multitude of reasons, the one who knows better than to do this, suddenly came up behind you. He slithered his arms around your waist. He held you tight as he nestled his face into your neck. You could feel his skin on your skin. “I missed you.” he cooed as he gave you a light kiss on your collar bone.

Immediately you pushed his hands off. You whipped around and shoved him away.

“What the-“

“How fucking stupid are you!” you hissed at him

“Y/n-“

“Tae is right fucking there!” you pointed to the sleeping boy just ten feet away. “Everyone else is here! Don’t you ever think?!? What came into your head that you even thought you could do that?”

He remained quiet. His face went limp and his arms fell to the side.

“Don’t you ever-“

The sound of a door opening and closing put a pause in our words. Your heartbeat grew faster as you heard a pair of footsteps getting closer. All you could do was glare at Jungkook.

The sloppy steps soon revealed a bushy haired Jimin. “Hey Jungkook! You’re back!” he said with a lazy smile

Jungkook didn’t reply to him, he only kept his head down. Jimin was about to open his mouth again, when he just headed back to the door. Both you and Jimin watched him slip his shoes on, grab his keys, and storm out.

The slam was loud enough to wake V up. “What happened?!?” he snorted

“Nothing!” you grumbled as you threw Jungkook’s dirty plate into the sink

V slowly sat up from the couch and did a quick stretch. “What’s going on?” he asked with his eyes still closed.

“I said nothing!” you said with frustration. You could feel Jimin’s eyes on you. You knew he was going to try to interrogate you.

“Are you sure it’s nothing?” Jimin looked so worried as he watched you agressivly wash the plate.

“Yes!” Once washed, you practically threw the plate on the drying rack, wiped your hands so hard that you practically rubbed your skin off and slam dunked the hand towel back in the sink. “Tae, if I am done early I can watch tv with you right?” You needed to unwind.

“Yeah.” He answered from the living room. Unlike Jimin, he didn’t poke at you.

You avoided Jimin’s eyes as you walked past him, but then he stopped you by last minuted grabbing your arm. Just like with Jjungkook, you quickly reacted. You pulled your arm back and face him just t get the moment over with.

“Y/n, are you ok? Do you want to talk about it?”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. You were so tired of him asking you that. “No I don’t want to talk about it! So are you going to keep questioning me all night or are you going to watch tv with us?” you snapped. Yes, you low key invited him to hang out with you and tae despite your harsh tone. Jimin was still Jimin, and although you didn’t want him getting in your messed up business, you also didn’t want to keep pushing him away.

He just frowned at you, but to your surprise he joined you and V on the couch. V read the mood and only offered movie suggestions when you sat down next to him.

JIMIN POV

“You’re not gonna stay?” Y/n yawned as he led her to her bed.

“Nah, I’m not sleepy. I napped too long. I’m gonna go finish the movie with Tae.”

“Ok. Tell me how it ends.” She mumbled as he snuggled under her blanket.

“Haha ok. I’m gonna lock the door alright?”

“ok.”

After locking their door, he went back to the living room and threw his body on the couch. He placed his head down on V’s lap. “Play the movie!” he said in the most elegant voice he could make.

“Yes master.” V laughed.

He played the movie, but then paused it. “Do we really have to finish it? I only put it on cuz Y/n wanted to see it.”

“Yes, she expects a two page essay on the ending.”

“Fine!” he said playing the movie again

It wasn’t too much longer that the movie ended It was a boring ending, just like every cliche rom-com ending.

“That was a waste of time.” V concluded

“Yup.”

“Well let’s go to sleep cuz it’s late and I got to lock you in.”

“Nah, I’m not sleep. You go. I can knock out on the couch.”

V stared as him with a suspicious squint. “Are you really not sleepy or are you just worried that Jungkook isn’t back yet?”

V knew him too well. “… He’s been gone for hours!”

The other just threw his bed back, letting out an annoyed grunt. “He’s fine!”

“Is he? He was mad when he left!”

“Well he been pretty damn moody lately so does that really surprise you?”

“Haven’t you been wondering why that is?!?”

“What? Why he has a stick up his ass?”

“We both know he is only like this when there is something wrong. He’s all sad lately and he barely eats and he is always out of the dorm.”

“I don’t know. I don’t see any of that. All I get from him are death stares and him grunting under his breath after I tell him what to do.” V said in a huff. “And like, I don’t even get why he is mad! He got a fucking car from Namjoon! I’m the one who should be glaring him down! He doesn’t do deal for months cuz of y/n but the second we the back he is rewarded with a car! How is that fair? I should have gotten the car!” he vented. “And he doesn’t even do good on the deals anymore either! Oh my-“

“Don’t you notice that is weird too.” This was the best part for Jimin to cut him off of his rant and bring the topic back to Jungkook being weird. “Jungkook isn’t the type to slack off. And he is only ever at the gym. He is at the gym more than me!”

“…All I gotta say is that we are seeing two different people cuz I have no idea what you are talking about. Aside from being a little brat with me, he is the same as usual. I could care less at this point. I got too much other shit to bust my head over.”

“There is something going on with him. I know it.” Jimin said to himself.

“…But if you are so worreid about him. I guess we can wait and watch another movie.” V sighed.

“Really?”

“Yeah. But get your stupid head off my lap, your making my leg numb.”

They went about 45 minutes into the next movie when Jungkook got home.

“Finally you are back!” Jimin said as he jumped off the couch. “Where were you?”

“Out.” Jungkook said in a grunt. He head was still hung low and he dragged his feet as he moved toward the hall.

“Why were you gone so long?”

“Because”

“Why did you leave? What is going on?”

“Nothing!” Jungkook wouldn’t even look at him

“Hey!” V called out angrily “Don’t be so harsh at Jimin! He was just worried! He stayed up to make you you got back okay.” V said from the couch.

That was when Jungkook glared at V with firey eyes. “Well no one asked him!” he almost shouted.

V ignored his tone, but stared back at Jungkook with a warning look. One out of line comment and he wasn’t going to hold his frustration on anymore. “So where were you? Do we have to make a cover if Namjoon comes asking us stuff?”

Jimin could feel the tension V decribed earlier. He hung back to see how things were going to play out.

“What I do is my business.” Jungkook answered

To V that wasn’t a good answer and he stood up from the couch with fists ready to go. “What the fuck is with you huh?!?”

Jungkook only stood up straighter, sticking his chest out. Before they could taking steps towards each other, Jimin threw himself between them. “Guys, chill.” He said calmly. He turned over to Jungkook. “We are just trying to look out for you, dude. What’s with you? DO you need to talk about it or what?”

“What are you, my mom? Fuck off!” Jungkook shouted as he went off to his room.

2 Years, 7 composition books of rough draft, 353 typed out pages, 227,123 words. That is how long and how much time it took to write this series... I have to be honest, i don’t know what to say right now. For sure i want to say thank you. Thank you so much all of you who even looked at my series. I know there aren’t many of you that keep up anymore, but to those that have suck around, i love you.

This story was bigger than i EVER imagined. I have put my literally blood (i had that one crazy paper cut) and tears into this and this story is so much to me. I want to that you all for supporting me I don’t know where i would be if it wasn’t for you all. The likes, the reblogs, the replies and comments, the asks, the messages. All of it have motivated me and pushed me to keep writing. I fell in love with writing and nurtured a skill in writing and i would have never been able to do this if it wasn’t for you all. You have no idea how much your guys’ feedback and support and love of the story means to me.

I have gotten so much love from you all, i jokingly got proposed to because of this series, people have reacted to me as if i am a celebrity becuase of this series, people have come to me for advise, i have made so many friend becuase of this series and i have inspired many others to start writing. This series has brought so much to me. Not only with you guys but with myself. I have a passion for something and it has been a new way of coping with my issues that i didn’t know i had.

Sorry if i am rambling and i am all over, but i just don’t know how else to express how much this story means to me and what you all mean to me. I am sorry that for personal reasons i can not get myself to write this anymore. I know alot of you don’t really care for my story anymore but I am still sorry that i an ending this the way i am. I hate it when stories are incomplete,

For those of you who want to know what happens, feel free to message me or send an ask. I will answer any questions you have about the plot and what would have happened if i kept writng.

If you all want to read any of my other stuff and what i am working on now, I started a writing blog @nothing-but-kpop-dreams > On this blog I have reactions, drabbles, moodboards, and scenarios for BTS, GOT7, EXO and Monsta X.

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felassan · 7 years

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Celebrating “Mass Effect: Andromeda” - A 7 Day Meme

I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things

By now you’ve no doubt seen BioWare’s official announcement that there will be no singleplayer DLC for Mass Effect: Andromeda. It’s unfortunate news, and for many passionate fans of the game, saddening and discouraging. But ME:A was (and still is) a lot of things to a lot of people, and lots of people on Tumblr and elsewhere are still actively playing and posting about the game, and participating within the fandom. To mark the ‘end’ (as it were), and for some positivity at this time, @omegastation and I thought it would be nice to hold a week where people can celebrate and commemorate the game, talk about aspects of it that they enjoyed and stuff it made them think about, and mention the good things it brought them, from feelings to friends. It’s kind of a neat closing bookend to the ME:A 30 Day Countdown Ryder Meme @omegastation and I put together and hosted before launch. Feel free to join in! Signalboosts are welcome.

The meme begins tomorrow, Monday 21st August! But you can do this or join in any time you like. Please post responses to the tag #meacelebrationmeme. We will try to read as many as we can! Remember to add relevant spoiler tags to your posts if they contain spoilers, especially if you discuss the novel Nexus Uprising or the comics, as not everyone has read them. For the purposes of this meme, the game, novel and comics are all included. Go into as much or as little depth and detail as you feel like, and feel free to use prompts as a springboard if there’s anything in particular you want to highlight or discuss.

Don’t forget, there are also Appreciation Weeks for Andromeda still ongoing and to come! The calendar is here, and next week is Lexi T’Perro Appreciation Week! ;)

#1 - Monday: Ryder Day

How did your Ryder turn out? Were they how you expected, or more unexpected? If pre-launch character-building is your thing, how similar were they to the concept you had planned out? Did they take on a life and personality of their own as you played?

Optional - Retrace your Ryder’s journey. What were their motivations? What decisions did they make, major and minor? Why? Is there anything they would do differently, if they were able to go back in time?

The epilogue of the game is quite open-ended, and the deciding power is now in your hands! Where is your Ryder’s head and heart at by the end of their first adventure in Andromeda? What are their new hopes and aspirations? Where are they headed now? What about their sibling?

#2 - Tuesday: Characters Day

We met a whole host of colorful new characters in Andromeda, many of whom became like friends and family. Who was your favorite major character, and why? What about minor characters? Which squadmates did you take out into the field the most? Were there any characters you took a while to ‘get’ or to warm up to? Which character had the biggest impact on you? Whose development arc did you enjoy the most?

Note - Being critical of a character is acceptable, character bashing/hate is not in the remit of this meme. Thank you!

#3 - Wednesday: Relationships Day

Did your Ryder have a best friend? How did they feel about their family? Which non-romantic relationships were most important to and impactful for your Ryder, and why (these can be positive or negative relationships)? Who did you romance first (if anyone) and who was your main romance (if applicable)?

Which relationships between characters (including ones that don’t involve Ryder) interested you most? Were there any in particular which moved or gripped you? How did your Ryder relate to figures like Sloane, Reyes, Evfra, and Tann, and what were your own thoughts on them? How did they/you feel about the Kett as a threat and the Archon as an opposing force?

#4 - Thursday: NEW STUFF Day

With fresh blood on the writing team, the jump to a whole new galaxy, and forward on platform generations, Andromeda added a lot of cool new things to the franchise - species (sentient and otherwise), planets and other locales, combat elements, technology, discoveries… Talk about your favorite takeaways from among these. What did you enjoy about them? Which ones could the OT have benefitted from having? Which planet was your favorite and why? What were your thoughts on the Angara? If you play multiplayer, do you feel like they made improvements there? And yes, you can absolutely answer with an essay about your love for the jump-jet if you want! ;)

#5 - Friday: Lore Day

Who was the Benefactor? What’s the deal with the Jardaan? Where did they go? Who (or what) were they fighting? What’s going on with the Kett Empire? Who killed Jien Garson, and why? What could happen with Ellen Ryder’s possible cure? Andromeda brought us heaps of intriguing new lore information, and left us with some unanswered mysteries, both big and small. Discuss your thoughts, guesses and speculations with regards to these (including any not listed here). Do you have any pet theories of your own? How about favorite theories from among the fandom? Which Andromeda-specific lore-mystery keeps you up at night the most?

#6 - Saturday: Fandom & Community Day

ME:A was the game through which @omegastation and I connected, and we’re sure other people must have similar stories. ♡ Did you make any new friends or connections through the ME:A fan community (and how?) - for example, through lore discussions, RPing, mutual love of the same character, sharing about your OCs, or multiplayer? Besides your own (!), whose Ryder[s] is/are your favorite[s]? Whose ME:A art (of any form) do you just adore? Are there any ME:A-heavy blogs that you love to follow? Give them all a shout-out, share your recommendations and love on them here! ♡

Optional - Share any creative works or endeavors ME:A inspired you to do that you’re particularly proud of here! This includes but is by no means limited to fanfiction, fanart, forum threads, edits, gifs, videos, meta posts, collaboration projects, aesthetic collections/inspiration blogs, etc.

#7 - Sunday: Introspective Day

Consider the game and the feelings and reactions it elicited in you. Which moments in the game were absolute high points for you? Which parts made you joyful? Which parts made you laugh? Which emotional notes in the plotline are you still reeling from? Are there any aspects of the game you’re still mulling over (for example, thematically speaking, decisions Ryder made that you’re still unsure about, or in regards to social issues)?

On reflection, what do you think Andromeda did well? What would you have sought to have done differently if you had been a dev? As above, criticism and constructive feedback is welcome - bashing/hate is not appropriate for this meme.

Now, let’s look towards the future. Hopefully, ooone day in the distant future, they’ll take the Mass Effect IP ‘off ice’. What are your preferences where potential future games are concerned - do you want to see a direct sequel to ME:A? Another ‘reboot’? Would you want to play as Ryder again? What direction would you want it to go in? The sky's the limit for this question!

A small closing note: Sincerely, we want to thank the Mass Effect fan community for an enjoyable, thought-provoking last few months. It’s been an interesting ride! Our hope is that this meme helps people process the news and their associated feelings somewhat, at least on a small scale. We hope that you continue to enjoy Andromeda and each other, and keep creating, connecting, discussing and debating together as a community! We’re looking forwards to reading your responses. Thank you for participating. =)

#meacelebrationmeme #mass effect: andromeda #mass effect #omegastation #bioware #video games #feels #thankyou deb for your help writing this with me! : )#spoilers #spoiler #mass effect: andromeda spoilers #mea spoilers #mea spoiler #mass effect: andromeda spoiler #andromeda spoilers #andromeda spoiler #mass effect andromeda spoilers #mass effect andromeda spoiler

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cerberosthehellguard · 7 years

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Tagged!

Tagged by @umisabaku and @jubesy!!!! (OH MY GOD!!)

1) How many works in progress do you currently have in progress?

Probably around 5-6? They are all pretty heavy word-count-wise? (I say this because 20k is big enough for me, as I write, mainly, shorts). These depend on whether I have enough interest to see them to their finish line. Some, I just scrap off after getting bored or, if I find a way to connect two ideas into one fiction, I merge them, obviously. So it’s probably only 5 works//sheepish laughter//

2) Do you/would you write fanfiction?

I haven’t attempted original work at all my friend. Fandom is where I dip my fingers deep//screams in the background I CAN NEVER GET AWAYYYYY//

3) Do you prefer paper books or ebooks?

Does fanfiction count? Sadly, those are not available as a hard copy. Though I am pretty sure I want to make a collection of my favourite fanfictions and print them out to have a private fanbook all to myself ha ha. In other cases, I prefer the hard bound copies for reading in bed etc.

4) When did you start writing?

Two years ago. My first fanfiction was my very first attempt at writing. Till then, imaginative school essays and excuses for not submitting essays on time are the examples of my exemplary writing. //fans myself//

5) Do you have someone you trust that you share your work with?

Yes!!! My sister has read my writing (mostly after it’s been posted because she wants to see the comments as well) and my mutual friends on here who are willing to Beta my work for me ha ha, they get the many nagging questions on “whether this wording is proper” and the headache of correcting my atrocious grammar |||orz before I unleash my writing onto the wide world of internet.

6) Where is your favorite place to write?

At my home, on my bed. I particularly LOVE to write when I have deadlines, that are strangling me and this wave of inspiration hits and words pour onto the page like no other. Take a week after, and a single word takes me three hours//stares into the camera like I am on the Office//.

7) Favorite childhood book?

It’s anything by Amar Chitra Katha. They are a collection of picture books which are fully involved in spreading awareness on Indian History and Heritage. Every single work is magnificent. They are available online if you would like to see what I am talking about.

8) Writing for fun or writing for publication?

For fun. Absolute, 100000%, tension-free, unadulterated fun. This is one of the reasons I don’t beta properly, I don’t take constructive criticism and I am highly irregular in writing. I take genuine pleasure in writing purely on a high to write. One of the pitfalls is that I lose interest just as easily as I obtain it and hence I don’t have the urge to write longer works. Though the ideas for them, aplenty.

9) Pen and paper or computer?

Computer. I write in bursts and post even more erratically and hence its much easier for me to just scribble on screen and post immediately after a cursory glance.//writes like there are thousand demons chasing me//goes to hibernate for years after//

10) Have you ever taken any writing classes?

No ha ha. I am an Accountancy and Commerce Major. Writing was purely due to reading too much fanfiction and wanting to write the ideas for which there was nothing to read about. //screams SOMEBODY WRITE ME A BREAK UP AND MAKE UP FIC OR A FUCKBUDDIES TROPE I BEG OF YOU//

11) What inspires you to write?

I genuinely do not know the answer to this question. Mood is the answer that comes to mind as an afterthought. I am driven by my moods. When I am sad, angry, crushed by responsibilities, want to get away from feelings and real life, well. These are primarily my writing muses. This is when the blood starts to flow and the ideas take shape and I start to type whatever I have in mind. As they say, a bad idea written is worth more than a thousand brilliant ideas lost to the wind.

Pretty much everyone I know has done this by now but!! I am tagging my author friends whose replies I want to know!

@irrevocably-delicious @brickerbeetle @whitecometofakagi @shadowwinggirl @jakittrell @courtingstars @bi3n3nstich @gllowingllanterns @humanitys-shortest-soldier @iixdonut Please feel free to ignore!!

#tagged #niri babbles

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insarations · 7 years

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Here’s this survey thing

1) Put your iTunes on shuffle. Give me the first 6 songs that pop up. dont use itunes anymore so spotify but same thing...santeria by sublime. she likes girls by metro station. different people by no doubt. we can make love by SoMo. when the end comes by andrew belle. my humps by tbep XD

2) If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? Gwen Stefani, no doubt ;) :D

3) Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17. "yeah" he said. The light turned green. I braced myself.

4) What do you think about most? um well it depends on the day and time and what not but I guess lately just a certain person. and also about traveling and where I wanna go.

5) Ever had a poem or song written about you? yes both

6) Do you have any strange phobias? eh not really strange..theyre all pretty common

7) What's your religion? Christian/non-denom

8) If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? walking to the car or inside XD

9) Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band? No Doubt

10) What was the last lie you told? hmm honestly i'm not sure. I'm not really the lying type

11) Do you believe in karma? ehh... in a sense but idk

12) What does your URL mean? um well its part of my middle name... play on the word daydreams...cause i daydream alot lol

13) What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength? i hate that question lol

14) Who is your celebrity crush? it changes alot but currently Anna Kendrick

15) How do you vent your anger? depends. lately I workout. but sometimes I draw or paint or listen to music or just sleep really. sometimes i just reblog things on tumblr or write something

16) Do you have a collection of anything? um kinda... vans, i used to have a lot more cause I worked there but i guess i dont really anymore. books and dvds. um hmm...i feel like i used to collect something else but cant think of it

17) Are you happy with the person you've become? for the most part, yes. theres always room for improvement :)

18) What's a sound you hate; sound you love? hate-utensils scratching on a plate. love-my cats purring

19) What's your biggest "what if"? ugh, stop.

20) Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? yes to both...but probably in different sorts of ways than most people believe in them.

21) Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm. right-beanbag chair. left-box of cheezits

22) Smell the air. What do you smell? the macncheese i just ate

23) What's the worst place you have ever been to? hmm good question... idk really. i've enjoyed pretty much all the places ive traveled to

24) Most attractive singer/s of your opposite gender? uh hmm no one comes to mind atm haha. im too gay i suppose XD but i guess ill say zayn

25) To you, what is the meaning of life? please dont get me started. i could write an essay

26) Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? well yes i drive but dont have my license... never crashed.

27) What was the last movie you saw? Pitch Perfect 3!!!! so amazing

28) What's the worst injury you've ever had? when I broke both arms at once

29) Do you have any obsessions right now? its something new all the time really im always obsessing haha i guess anna kendrick

30) Ever had a rumor spread about you? ugh yes

31) Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? not usually..it depends. a lot of times its not even a grudge..i forgive easy but bitter feelings stay a while in certain instances

32) What is your astrological sign? aquarius

33) What's the last thing you purchased? a movie ticket

34) Love or lust? L.O.V.E.

35) In a relationship? nope

36) How many relationships have you had? 4...and a 1/2 XD long story

37) What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you? um just be myself..not really a weapon lol

38) Where is your best friend? i dont even know who that is anymore :/

39) What were you doing last night at 12 AM? sleeping

40) Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend? yes i think so..id probably annoy myself at somepoint. hell i already do lol but im alright XD

41) You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? stop, help the dog. animals are just as important as people. if someone cant understand that oh well. i cant always find another job. but animals are life.

42) You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? probably those most important to me b) What do you do with your remaining days? quit work. go traveling. spend time with my favorite people and my animals and eat a whole hell of a lot lol c) Would you be afraid? maybe a tad at first but i'm not too afraid of dying, I know i'd be with God and away from the pain of this world. i'd moreso be a little afraid of the pain i might possibly have while still alive

43) What's a song that always makes you happy when you hear it? hollback girl :D

44) In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? so many things but just... two people that love each other that click and mesh and would do anything for each other and just make each other happy and take care of each other... alot of things i suppose though.

45) How can I win your heart? hmm. just be yourself. be respectful. be sweet. be funny..even if in your own dorky awkward way. be kind and thoughtful. put me first just as much as i put you first. just be genuine and real and true and never lie to me. just, be real.

46) Can insanity bring on more creativity? oh yes

47) What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far? hmm damn what a question. honestly.... I really don't know the answer to that. not that i havent made good decisions. but... idk what was the best. gotta think on that.

48) What would you want to be written on your tombstone? hmm ive never thought about it lol honestly when i'm gone...do whatever the hell you want haha but i guess if i had to choose..something about my kindness or uniqueness ? idk i try to be kind and different lol

49) Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word "heart." cant say right now

50) Basic question; what's your favorite color/colors? purple, black, silver, blue

51) What is your current desktop picture? its just black no picture not sure why i havent changed it

52) If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? thats horrible. honestly i wouldnt do that to anyone..even the people i dislike most. well actually, maybe donald trump XD but no still even then i dont think i could do it even though i'm sure itd make america great again XD

53) What would be a question you'd be afraid to tell the truth on? hmm honestly idk im a very honest person

54) You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? those are too many words you couldnt just ask me what superpower i want?? XD so now i'm gonna be a bitch and not answer

55) You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? um. its between two. both of which involve time with someone important..cant choose which

56) You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? losing people that were important to me

57) You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be? hmm i guess if i had to choose right this second... anna kendrick.. pretty sure ive mentioned her like a hundred times in this survey

58) You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? right now ummm...boston

59) Ever been on a plane? many times

60) Give me your top 5 hottest celebrities. Anna Kendrick. Channing Tatum. Jennifer Lawrence. Nicole da Silva. michelle rodriguez

#surveys #survey questions #random survey #random surveys

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shirlleycoyle · 6 years

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Big Rural

Today, I’m pleased to share part of an intriguing project from Arizona State University and some top science fiction writers focused on examining the future of solar power—The Weight of Light. Per ASU, it’s a “collection of science fiction stories, art, and essays exploring human futures powered by solar energy… What will it be like to live in the photon societies of tomorrow? How will a transition to clean, plentiful energy transform our values, markets, and politics?” The ebook is free, and you can check it out here. The story we’re running today, about the incoming clash of Big Solar and small town America, comes courtesy of the great Cat Rambo—the president of the Science Fiction Writers of America, and acclaimed speculative scribe in her own right. Enjoy. -the ed

Trish almost didn’t take the turnoff from Interstate 8. She was tired and anxious and it was easy to miss, particularly in the evening blast of last-gasp sunlight. A headache was building in the back of her neck, ratcheted up by lack of sleep. Should have picked a self-driving car rather than this one.

But when she glimpsed it, the decision to swing down the unnamed pebble-and-dust road that led to Ojos de Amistad Lookout seemed so natural that it was almost automatic, happening between one breath and the next. She switched off the AC and thumbed all four windows open. Almost as though she were back in high school, she and Jeff Garcia out driving his ancient Jeep in the early evening, when the blue ebbed from the Arizona sky and a faint scent of creosote rode the cooling wind.

If she got to the lookout point before the sun began to dip below the horizon, she’d see one of the best things about the valley. Because of the coal plant, Tierra del Rey had beautiful sunsets, and she wanted her return home to start with that image.

The road was barely car-width, even for her small rental. The car bounced and jittered along the road, sending pale dust and pebbles flying amid scruffs of agave and prickly pear. Tires crunching over rocks, the rumble outside battling the tinny sound from the dashboard radio as the DJ segued into yet another country song. It was the third time she’d heard this one since pulling the rental away from the airport, a few hours ago.

You city people fill your lives with chatter,

Thinking that us country folk don’t matter …

The road narrowed and dwindled before widening out into four cars’ worth of parking, unoccupied. She pulled the parking brake and reached to the radio.

But listen out here in the big rural, the big land,

Something’s echoing here, maybe you can understand …

She clicked the music off and grabbed her purse and water bottle before taking the footpath up to the point. The path had once been set off with railroad ties, which still bordered the sunbaked mountainside, but the cedar chips were gone now, not even crumbles left. Every step was a memory jabbing at her. How many times had she walked up this way, angry at something, someone, usually the town itself, full of resolution to get out, no matter what?

The sign at the fork was sun-faded into unintelligibility, but she knew what it said. Marcos de Niza, Spanish conqueror, had paused here, looked out, and claimed the valley in the name of his king. Also: no trash, no alcohol, no fires.

By the time she reached the ledge overlooking the valley, sweat covered her, and the evening breeze flickering across her skin was welcome, even if it was barely cooler. She went to the gym three times a week, but she wasn’t in anything like the shape she’d been in as a teen, when she was running track, knowing it the best chance she had for a scholarship. Running her way out of Tierra del Rey and into a better life.

One that had led her straight back here. Anxiety and guilt flared at that. What sort of welcome would she get? She hadn’t thought she’d ever be back. Hadn’t bothered to maintain ties. More efficient that way. More effective that way.

And easier. So much easier.

She gulped down the last of the water and stuck the bottle into her purse. The tomato-red sun rolled on the horizon, sending long black shadows walking across the land, towards the enormous black square that was Phase I of the Sol Dominion power plant, glittering in the last of the sunlight. You could barely see the storage structures scattered among the solar panels like enormous alien flowers, many-petalled and made of dark carbonized plastic with an oily undersheen of cobalt and purple.

Arms folded, she looked towards the town bordering that square to the east, where lights were flickering alive. She could name most of them. The gas station. The diner. The tiny grocery/hardware/drugstore locals just called “the store.” The two-block strip that was Main Street, the grade school on one end, the high school on the other, linked by shared sports fields: baseball, soccer. Still no football stadium. The coal plant, unlit now.

When you came home again, even to “the big rural,” as the song called it, things were supposed to have changed. Here the only change was that black square. Between the town lights and the scattered but symmetrical lights surrounding the plant, a dark strip, perhaps a mile wide, stretched, unlit. As though town and plant had turned their backs on each other.

Not all of them, though, given the vandalism she’d been called to investigate.

A mourning dove called, a lonesome whirra-hu-hu somewhere to her left where the cliff face stretched upward. She and Jeff had climbed further up dozens of times, but this spot had been their favorite.

She ran her thumb between her shoulder and the purse strap, feeling the leather cling to her sweaty skin. East Coast life’s made me soft. She turned back to the trail and descended in the half-light while the dove called behind her. Halfway down, another dove answered it, and their solemn call-and-response accompanied her all the way back to the car.

By the time she was halfway back to the highway, full dark had descended. She switched on her brights, pressing the confirm button at the car’s query. There were no other cars on the road, and she didn’t bother to dim the lights until she hit the outskirts of town.

Two cars in the parking lot of the store. She didn’t expect to recognize them, and didn’t. The bell jingled the way it had a thousand times before as she stepped into the store’s sallow fluorescent lights. Two customers talking to the clerk up front, one of those lazy shoot-the-shit conversations. Their backs turned. But then one shifted and the light hit his shoulder as he shrugged, showed the muscles along the back of his neck and she froze. Jeff.

She could have kept moving, but the customers looked around at the sound of the bell. Jeff recognized her immediately, she could read that in the way his expression shifted: surprise welcome then hardening into anger and a more defensive stance. Beside him, Aaron Paulsen. Of course, who else would I least want to see the night I arrived? Aaron flippin’ Paulsen.

Behind the counter, a sleepy-eyed girl, high school age, unimpressed and bored by all of them, stared down at her phone. Her name tag read Zoe Z, tilted at a careless 30-degree angle on the blue nylon uniform shirt. Trish remembered how scratchy that fabric was, how it seemed to gather heat in all the most uncomfortable places.

Jeff and Trish locked eyes. Aaron was the first to speak. “Beatrice!” he exclaimed, a little too hearty, a little too smiling.

She forced an answering smile, looking away from Jeff’s accusing eyes to meet Aaron’s chilly blue gaze. “Aaron. Jeff.” Hefting a plastic basket from the pile slumped near the door, she stepped towards the back cooler cases. She was tired, and she was hungry. Get in, get the food, get out.

She expected them to say something more, but they were silent. Trying to rattle me, that’s Paulsen’s style. She felt that they must be watching, but when she swung around with her armload of milk, thaw-dinners, and a sleeve of eggs, Aaron was sliding money across the counter to the clerk and taking two packs of cigarettes along with a red, white, and blue striped lighter while Jeff stared at the lottery ticket display.

Aaron scooped up his change as she came up behind them. Turning, he said, “So, come back to check out what your company’s been doing here?”

Of course they know who I work for, she thought. Small towns, everyone knows what everyone else does.

“Troubleshooting,” she said briefly. She looked him in the eyes, watching his body language. “There’s been vandalism. More than petty stuff.” Jeff looked up at that, his face a careful blank.

Was that guilt flickering in the watery depths of the smile Aaron showed her?

“Yeah, I heard about that. People don’t like the power plant. They don’t know what to expect. They know my family’s coal plant built this town.”

“They’re saying a lot, seems like,” she said.

He shrugged. “Small town, word gets around.”

“Word of who’s been doing it too, maybe?”

He shrugged. Behind him, Jeff’s face still blank as an unlit screen.

They stood there in silence while she paid for her groceries and gathered up the bag.

“See you, Beatrice,” Aaron said to her back as she left.

“I go by Trish now.” On the door as she swung it open, a poster from Sol Dominion. The alien flowers dark and ominous against the blue and yellow of Sol Dominion, golden words above it: Sol Dominion Phase II Coming Soon. Underneath the picture in a more sober, shadowy blue: Building Today For a Brighter Tomorrow.

The bells jingled again as the door closed behind her.

She kept the windows open to the cooler night air as she headed to the solar plant. On its eastern side was the housing for the workers that had built it, mostly empty now but kept ready for the workforce that would return in three months for Phase II.

The moonlight washed out Sol Dominion’s trademark sunshine yellow and sky blue, leached them of life until the trailers formed a symmetrical, boxy plastic ghost town. Their blank faces flickered past as she drove to the gate, a glass box, lit from the inside, housing a sleepy-looking woman nursing a coffee cup, reading a paperback. She glanced up as Trish rolled to a stop. Booted heels crunched over gravel; Trish turned off the car and proffered her ID. “Evening, Anita,” she said.

Anita Luz, who had babysat Beatrice Soledad from the ages of three to seven, didn’t acknowledge the greeting. She studied the plastic card before flipping it back towards Trish. “Any trailer’s open except the first three in Row G.” She made her way back to the booth and pushed a button. The chain-link gate shuddered open.

“Nice to see you too,” Trish muttered under her breath.

Close up, the trailers in their identical rows seemed even spookier. They were all yellow with blue trim, the number beside each doorway the same color. She opted for Row F—one over but still close to the plant’s other occupants, a skeleton crew of gate guards and technicians, totaling eight.

She settled in, unpacking her groceries. The trailer smelled of staleness and disuse and she opened all the windows, letting the desert breeze wash in and sweeten the air. There were no bed linens. She unfolded a t-shirt and dressed the foam pillow in it, then laid down on the crackling plastic film that covered the bed, listening. She could hear two owls hunting, calling to each other huhu huhu in a stuttering rhythm that overlapped then died away into silence then started again.

Quiet here. One of those nights when the wind sang in the telephone wires. Outside, the field of solar panels was silent and unmoving even as electricity flowed out of it, feeding needs far beyond Tierra del Rey. Sol Dominion’s model project. Almost ready for Phase II. Whoever helped make that happen would be lavished with glory and bonuses and, most importantly, allowed a leap two or three rungs up the corporate ladder.

And if you leaped and fell? There were plenty of other young MBAs with gleaming degrees from Wharton and Harvard, ready to fall into line and begin their own journeys upward.

She fell asleep dreaming of ladders, reaching up out of dark water.

When she woke, the day was already starting to heat up. As she filled the coffee maker with water, she glanced out the window, then froze. One of the enormous solar storage devices was askew, canted at an impossible angle that threatened the arrays of black tempered glass beneath its long shadow.

One of the most important parts of the plant, the batteries stored the gigawatts then sent them out to power businesses and homes, so many lives dependent on that invisible flow.

Water ran over her hand as the carafe overfilled. She set it down, turned off the tap, and went out to investigate. The tower was one of the ones furthest from the worker housing and it took her a while to walk there. This close to the panels, she could see weeds growing in the shadows and spiny lizards lying in the sun, soaking up heat.

Machinery, hacked apart, the base of the alien flower chopped as though it were a tree. Beneath it, dropped as though the attacker had been scared away mid-swing, a long-handled axe. She knelt to examine it.

Most of the red paint had peeled away from the head, and someone had wrapped the handle first in string, then black electrical tape, so it could be gripped away. The pattern reminded her of how Jeff and the other boys had wrapped their baseball bats, emulating one of the older kids that year.

The security cameras yielded nothing; black hoods cloaked the faces of the three intruders, who registered only as collections of jerky motion in the infrared system. They’d disabled the lights beforehand; Anita had left a note saying she hadn’t heard anything. Hadn’t even bothered to wait to talk to Trish.

Bill Larson had been sheriff of Tierra del Rey for as long as Trish could remember. Stolid to the point of dourness, the lanky, balding man oversaw a single deputy, the pair based in a cinderblock construction on the main road into town. It was a tradition for the schoolchildren to paint murals on it. The current one was fresh, showing town buildings on one side, the solar plant on the other. They met around the central door, where the alien flowers shrunk, brightened, became marigolds, poppies, and roses.

She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and opened the door.

The air inside was crisply cold, hitting her bare skin the minute she stepped through. Lawson sat at his desk, facing the door, leaning back with his boots on the desk, coffee in hand as he studied some form. He scowled at the sight of her.

She shoved down all the feelings he roused in her of having done wrong. A fatherless teen with a mother working too many hours to watch over her children, she’d had her share of run-ins. Now she was here as Sol Dominion’s representative; she stepped forward with the assurance that having a multinational corporation behind her in the face of a small-town sheriff gave her.

“There’s been more vandalism, one of the storage towers,” she said. “I need to see the other reports on it when you come to investigate.”

Larson returned his attention to the form he’d been studying. “No reports. Company property, not town.”

“You’re supposed to oversee the whole valley!”

“Except for Sol Dominion holdings,” he said flatly. “A pleasure to see you, Miss Soledad. Enjoy your stay here in Tierra del Rey.”

Her head churned as she drove away. Aaron must be the ringleader. No one was more upset about the coal plant being shut down than the family that owned it, that had commanded a special spot in Tierra del Rey society as a result. She’d found plenty of Aaron’s type in college and then Sol Dominion: born into wealth and unused to losing. They would do anything to avoid it, thinking themselves more deserving of victory than lesser souls.

She stopped at the store to pick up more water. The clerk didn’t even look at her, too intent on her phone to care about any customer. On the way out, Trish saw the poster again. Someone had taken black felt-tip and scribbled all over it, tangles of dark ink, like weeds around the flower bases: “get the fuck out Sol we love coal” and “where’s our water?”

Aaron, behind her again.

I forget that about small-town-in-the-big-rural. Every time you turn around, you’re seeing someone you don’t want to. His smirk, angled down at her as though to remind her of the height discrepancy.

“Come back to see what your company’s done?” he asked, knife sharp. “Or to scavenge the corpse?”

“Corpse is an odd choice of word,” she said, neutral. “The project’s brought in jobs and money, with more on the way. What’s dead, precisely?”

“Take your pick.” Black felt-tip pen riding in his front shirt pocket, she noted. “Maybe the town. Maybe your friendships. Jeff everything you thought he’d be?”

He was, she thought, thinking of that expressionless face when he’d seen her. Still familiar, same stance.

She tried to steer them back to something closer to friendship. “Did he become a volunteer firefighter like he’d always said?” The firefighters had denied him as a teen because of asthma difficulties; nowadays with gene therapy she didn’t think that would be such an issue, but who knew?

Aaron froze as though he was trying to figure out what she meant by the question, eyes narrowing. Finally he spat, “What do you care?” Pushed past and was gone.

She followed him though, at a distance. Trailed him back to the lookout. He’d lead her to the other vandals, sooner or later.

An unfamiliar car. She ghosted along, activating her net link—if she was discovered, she’d be broadcasting whatever happened, in livetime, deterrent enough for most criminals. And if not? Something to think about when and if.

She paused on the bend under the lookout to listen.

Aaron’s voice, and Jeff’s.

“Like a black hole,” Jeff said. “Remember that from sixth grade science? That one always stuck with me, I don’t know why. Big black hole, sucking up everything. Welcome to Sol Dominion.”

She could see what he was talking about: the great glittering black puddle that was the project, the distant alien blooms, one of them askew. Inhuman. Swallowing life and giving nothing, a trickle at best, back to the town clinging to its edge.

But it was realization, not the vista, that froze her. Aaron’s not the leader.

She thought of the long-handled axe. The sort a volunteer firefighter might carry.

Jeff is.

Walking back and forth that night, trying to figure out what to do. Every time she went near the guard shack, she could hear the radio. That big rural song again, twice.

You city people fill your lives with chatter,

Thinking that us country folk don’t matter …

To Sol Dominion, the townsfolk hadn’t mattered. She remembered the presentation, the way they’d worded it. Out in the middle of nowhere. And her looking at the map, seeing the crossroads and realizing. Tierra del Rey.

Images flickered through her head as she paced. The poster, the angry black scrawls across it. The glittering black sea of the panels—there’d be so many more of them in Phase II.

But listen out here in the big rural, the big land,

Something’s echoing here, maybe you can understand …

The children’s mural outside the sheriff’s office.

The air chilled as she walked and the tears on her cheeks glittered as she paced.

She’d made a lot of calls by the time she invited Jeff to walk with her up to the lookout point. Cashed in all her social capital, maybe overdrawn some of it. That remained to be seen.

Jeff’s expression was wary. He didn’t say much as they walked side by side up the trail.

“Beatrice,” he started once.

“That’s not who I am. I call myself Trish now.”

“That’s not who I fell in love with.”

After that, silence until they reached the point. Still a little cool, but sweat rode her forehead when they arrived.

She could smell dust and creosote bush on the wind. A red-tailed hawk swung far above in lazy spirals, getting an early morning jump on rodents and sluggish reptiles.

Jeff said, “I guess you know.”

“I guess I do.” She took out a bottle of water, took a swig, passed it over to him.

He drank and wiped his lips on the back of his arm before passing the bottle back. There were fine lines in the corners of his eyes now, years of sun she’d avoided. “So, what now?”

“Imagine if we made it something other than a black hole,” she said.

He frowned.

“Ever hear of agro-voltaics?”

At his headshake, she continued. “Imagine crops growing between the panels, sheltered from some of the heat. Strawberries, melons.” She searched her mind for the children’s mural. “Marigolds, poppies. Even roses. The company took the water rights but hasn’t done anything with them. I’ve confirmed that we can get most back.”

She gestured at the expanse. “Yes, more space, but we’ve got plenty of that. And the infrastructure to ship the produce out at the same time. Send the power out to the state but feed it as well.”

“That’s a big change,” he said.

She shrugged. “Some things are big enough to work toward.”

The bottle was dry and sunrise well past by the time they finished talking.

“What made you change your mind, overall?” he asked as they started towards her car.

She shrugged. “Thought about what would piss off Aaron most, so that meant nothing to do with coal.”

“No, really.”

“That’s as good a reason as any,” she said, but kept her smile tilted away from him as they walked away from the sunset and down the path.

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