Blair is rehearsing for Romeo and Juliet with a boy and he brings her home. He tries to kiss her but she pulls away saying she is busy with doing her poem assignment. He insists reciting a poem “let me count the ways” (🤮). Thankfully they are interrupted when the lights get turned on. Blair assumes everyone is asleep but is mistaken. She says they are just rehearsing and shakes his hand goodbye.
The episode is called “Emily Dickinson”. Mr.Bradley says the girls may not like poetry because it’s “flowery” aka gay! He asked Blair if she has hers done and she lies she does. Late Tootie asks her if she’s finished yet and Blair says no she just needs some inspiration. She teases Blair about the boy she saw but she shrugs her off still not inspired even after they kiss. She then picks up a book of Emily’s poetry. Aka the episode title. She teases she can’t be much based on her hair but once she reads a poem it’s a different story. She reads Beauty crowds me. Tootle doesn’t get it but Blair does
“I just have to get inspired, poems by Emily Dickinson”.
“Its a beautiful poem. You know she writes the way I’d write if I had the time.”- Gay!
In true sitcom fashion this gives her the idea to change a few lines and plagiarize it. Passing it off as her own by giving it a Blair touch. Tootie says it’s a bad idea but Blair doesn’t listen. She makes an excuse it’s okay since shes already dead- teen logic. When she first picked up the book she pretended she wasn’t familiar with her but she knows she died in 1886. More on that/ Blair is someone staying up late and reading Emily Dickinson poems alone under the covers, lesbihonest!
Blair feels guilty when she gets an A+ and everyone gets bad grades. Yes it’s to show plagiarism is wrong but also how did a English teacher who teaches poetry not recognize an Emily Dickinson poem that a teen girl slightly altered - no wonder he is fired before s2!
“So what are you going to do now Miss. Emily Dickinson,”- Tootie, I agree Blair is gay like Emily Dickinson.
“Poetry is like love it is better the second time around.” Blair x Jo!
Blair says she couldn’t sleep and Mrs, Garett asks her if it’s about Jason(?) she says no she has been busy thinking about Emily Dickinson, gay. She confesses she copied the poem and is convinced to come clean since she feels quite ugly for stealing. Jason then comes over and says he wants to kiss some more but Blair is preoccupied and not interested. She wants to come clean for what she did but Mr. Bradley says she can leave so Jason pushes her out the door.
Aka Jason is 17/18 not sure but he is doing college applications, Blair is 14, EW!!!!! 🤮
He then tries to wrap his arm around her and kiss her pulling all the “moves” but Blair isn’t interested. She is actually quite annoyed. When he leans in to kiss her she pulls away and turns her head having him kiss her cheek instead which is still to much.
“I’m leaving” “I know” That is her response she wants him gone, mood! Then makes fun of saying he’s going to college not war calm tf down. He says it twice insisting to kiss her which is just disgusting. He’s a creep, goodbye “doughboy” mood
“I’m sorry Jason I’m just not into this.” Gay!!!! Actual dialogue need I say more!
He still insists saying he is into (EW, no means no asshole ) but Blair says no she’s not and that she feels guilty. He asks her why they haven’t done anything. She says she has and he thinks she means something else (again the perceptions) but Blair clarifies she means cheating on her poem. He says it’s not a big deal he is cheating to get into Yale. (Which for Blair in later seasons is a big no-no the way she sees Ivy League schools.) He tells her to come here and pulls her towards him. She does try to kiss him but still isn’t into it. She cuts it off again saying sorry she needs to do her poem. The OG washing my hair excuse to get away from a guy and she runs inside. To confess she cheated and that she may be gay like Emily but she can’t write like her- sort of.
She wins a poetry contest third place but again how??? How did no one realize it was plagiarized. I mean Emily Dickinson is one of Americas greatest poets, one of the worlds greatest and changed poetry forever! How?????
This is Blair on a date what a very heterosexual thing for a girl to do on a date. Loll a very not gay girl who doesn’t suppress thoughts of hugging and touching girls. How strange- lolll I had to. I mean she doesn’t look miserable at all (sarcasm)
The first line of her poem is how she doesn’t like what she sees when she looks in the mirror….- gay!
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weee another fantasy au snippet <3 a little shorter than usual cause that's what the scene is <3 shorter <3
~
Something is wrong with Wally.
It’s not serious, or at least Barnaby doesn’t think it is. If he didn’t pay such close attention to his buddy, he’d never know that anything was amiss at all - Wally has an excellent straight face. But not so excellent that Barnaby can’t read him.
There’s a different curve to his smile these days. It’s sort of pinched, sort of sad. It matches a look in his eyes that puts Barnaby on edge, if only because that deep, dark pensiveness is so wildly out of place on Wally’s soft face.
It scares him. Something is off.
What is it?
Barnaby taps his claws on his middle as he stares at the tent roof, thin enough that firelight from outside bleeds through. Despite the late hour, his eyelids feel magicked open. The other side of the tent yawns empty, and that is precisely the source of Barnaby’s insomnia.
Everyone is asleep except for two - and Barnaby is only awake because of one.
With a deep sigh through the nose, Barnaby sits up and clambers out of the tent. He shivers as he stands up and crosses his arms, rubbing at his fur. The night sky is clear, but the breeze cuts him through to the bone. It isn’t even winter yet, sheesh…
The campfire casts a fuzzy outline of red-orange around Wally. He doesn’t turn away from the embers as Barnaby shuffles behind him, and Barnaby doesn’t have to look to know that he’s staring directly into the low flames. He tweaks Wally’s raised hood as he passes, just to make sure Wally knows he isn’t alone anymore. He spaces out, sometimes.
“Can’t sleep?” Barnaby asks as he takes the log next to Wally’s rock of choice. Wally just hums, and Barnaby frowns.
There’s that look again.
With how Wally is perched, his legs drawn up and arms folded on his knees, his smile is hidden. It’s unsettling. Barnaby scans Wally from the corner of his eye, taking in the tension in his shoulders and the nearly invisible pinch of his nonexistent brows.
“Yeah, me neither,” Barnaby says. Another breeze, another shudder, and a quick glare at the stars.
Should he press? The obvious answer is absolutely not, but… Barnaby isn’t sure how much of this - thisness he can take. He has no idea what to call it. A mood? It’s too serious to be considered a mood. All Barnaby knows is that when Wally is like this, something itches under his skin.
Tonight would be a perfect opportunity to ask. Everyone else is fast asleep. Wally isn’t putting up the fronts he usually does. The knowledge that this Wally, the Wally all covered up and curled in on himself, is as vulnerable as anyone will never see - it makes Barnaby want to reach.
“Hey,” he murmurs, nudging his knee against Wally’s boot, “I’m starting to worry for the fire with how you’re glarin’ at the thing. What, did it emberass ya? Give ya the coal shoulder?”
Wally doesn't laugh, but his gaze softens. Barnaby curses himself.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with glarin' - I’m sure the fire deserves it,” Barnaby is quick to add. “But really… is everything alright, kid?”
“Yes,” Wally says, but it rings like an untruth. It's just something he’s saying because it’s what he always says. Everything is always fine with Wally.
“You know you don’t gotta pretend with me. There’s somethin’ bothering you, I can tell.” Too far, too much, Barnaby is sure. He shouldn’t be so pushy.
But instead of clamming up, Wally’s eyes flicker down and away, guilty. The bloodhound in Barnaby perks up its ears. It’s all he can do not to point and shout AHA!, because that would assure that Wally would put up the same masks around him that he does with everything else. Vindication wars with his concern, as if he thought he might have been imagining the funks Wally has been slipping into.
Those too-long periods of silence that no one notices because Wally isn’t much of a talker. Moments of utter stillness that no one notices because Wally is always so stationary. The way he doesn’t drink in every new thing with a hunger like he usually does, as if Wally has been starving his whole life.
Those passing glances where his pupils seem too big, the blackness of them infinitely deep as if someone could fall into them. Maybe Wally is. Barnaby doesn’t want him to.
“You don’t gotta say a word,” Barnaby says, wishing the campfire log was just a smidge closer to the rock. “I just want ya to know that I see you, and I’m here. Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head ‘a yours, I’ll be right there for whatever you need. I got your back, Walls.”
Wally’s smile peeks over his arms for a moment - he always has liked being called pretty, or handsome, you name it. Barnaby preens over being able to coax him even the slightest bit out of the pit he’s slowly spiraling into. He’s winning big at the whole ‘best friend’ thing, Barnaby thinks - a complete natural.
For a long while, Barnaby doesn’t care to keep track, they sit in companionable silence. The fire cracks and pops when Barnaby adds a chunk of wood to it, coaxing it into a flame that actually takes the bite out of the breeze. Crickets chirp in the forest around them - something howls far away.
The tension doesn’t leave Wally. In fact the longer they sit, the worse it gets. Barnaby keeps his mouth shut and eyes on the fire, the woods, the stars - anywhere except Wally. It’s the kind of tension that makes him suspect that Wally is gearing up to speak. Sometimes it feels like there’s a sinkhole of silence that opens up whenever Wally has something of his own to say.
Reviving the fire was either a smart move, or a dumb one. It depends on how quickly Wally thinks of how to share. Without the brisk chill of night keeping Barnaby fresh-faced, sleep is finally starting to sink into him with the fire’s warmth. He briefly considers sneaking into Howdy and Sally’s tent to sneak an energy potion from Howdy’s pack. Pros, he’ll certainly be awake for Wally. Cons, he’ll be awake long past Wally’s spiel, Howdy will have a fit over missing an item, and Sally will have a bigger fit over Barnaby sneaking into her tent when he inevitably comes clean. Also, the potions don’t taste great. Or maybe he should fetch his pipe-
“I think. I don’t…”
For a second, Barnaby misses that Wally spoke at all. He double-takes when the half sentence registers, casting a quick look to Wally. Okay, no, don’t do that. Focus on the fire. Be casual - give him space. Barnaby nonchalantly pokes the coals with the fire stick.
Wally sighs - such a small sound that the crickets almost drown it out. But Barnaby has big ears, and they perk up. When does Wally ever sound frustrated? Curse him, but Barnaby finds it novel. Wally shifts on the rock, curling up impossibly tighter and turning his head away. Barnaby watches the back of his hood.
“I don’t think I’m a good person,” Wally admits in the smallest, deadest voice Barnaby has ever heard.
“What?” Barnaby says, or he means to. The air in his throat doesn’t quite form sound. He turns to Wally and clenches his paws on his knees to keep from reaching, floundering for words.
How could he - why would he - who told him that he -
“What do you mean?” Barnaby says, a disbelieving chuckle slipping out. “Wally, kid - you’re the best guy I know. You’re my best guy. Out of all the ways I could describe you, a bad person isn’t one of ‘em.”
Wally whips his head around, his eyes flashing - Barnaby tenses his entire body to keep from recoiling, though he can’t keep his eyes from widening.
For a second there he thought… he thought he saw… it must have been the firelight reflecting in Wally’s dark eyes.
Wally’s intense gaze pierces straight into Barnaby’s soul. He feels flayed raw and seen in a way that makes him want to run. But there’s something else. Something scared. Wally is searching for something, and Barnaby doesn’t know what or how to give it to him. His claws splinter bark.
As soon as it appeared, the look fades. Barnaby can take deep breaths again, and he lets go of the log. Wally blinks slowly and lets his sleepy gaze slide back to the fire. “I don’t know… maybe.”
Barnaby carefully lays a paw on Wally’s back. “You’re a good person, Wally. I don’t know who told you otherwise, but don’t listen to ‘em. You’re a fantastic friend, an even better best friend, and I gotta say - you make a pretty bang-up wizard. You’re the most.”
“I’m the most?” Wally murmurs, sounding surprised. He makes a sound that might be a laugh, might be a scoff. “No… you’re the most.”
“Tell ya what- we’re both the most.”
Wally casts him a sideways look, but doesn’t protest further. He hums.
“C’mon, lil’ wizard,” Barnaby says with a pat to his back, “let’s give the fire a break and turn in for the night.”
Just as he was starting to relax, Wally shies away from his touch, curling up like one of those shelled bugs Frank likes so much. “I think I’ll stay up a little longer.”
Barnaby swallows down the hurt and pulls away. “Alrighty. Don’t stay up too late - we got a day tomorrow.”
“Ha. I know.”
With that, Barnaby stands. He gently squeezes Wally’s nape through the hood as he passes, and breathes a silent sigh of relief at how Wally leans into the touch.
All’s forgiven. Though he isn’t sure what for… whatever Barnaby said or did wrong, he’s just glad Wally doesn't mind.
Barnaby clambers into the tent and another shiver ripples through his fur. All the darn heat leeched out of it... He wraps himself in his thin, too-small blanket and shivers as hard as he can manage to generate some kind of warmth. It’ll heat up soon, he just has to wait. Wally usually casts a little sun spell on cold nights, but Barnaby can do without. Even if the tent gets comfortably warm, Barnaby isn’t sure if he’ll sleep.
Wally didn’t believe him.
And Barnaby doesn’t know how to make him believe.
How could he think that he isn’t a good person? Barnaby meant what he said - Wally is the best person he knows. Wally is kind, patient, and just - just - him. There isn’t a single bad thing about him. Barnaby is so proud to call him his best friend.
There has to be something that started this. A moment that made Wally doubt himself. Did someone say something? Not anyone in the Neighborhood, they all love Wally to pieces. He’s their wizard! He’s saved their lives and countless others, and their group simply wouldn’t be complete without him. He rounds them off with an artsy flourish.
So. There’s no reason that Wally should be feeling like this. But that look in his eyes… the guilt… there’s something else going on. Something deeper than just ‘I’m scared I’m a bad person.’
Something is wrong.
Firelight flickers outside the tent, and Barnaby watches it until it goes dark.
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