Always the same 'ship, just with different couples...

[elisi]

I've been re-reading Gaudy Night (like you do), and one sentence suddenly stood out. Well a lot of them did, obviously, because it's a wonderful book, but I've been thinking about how Peter and Harriet are my 'shipping blueprint, and there is was, perfectly:

That, then, was what he wanted her for. For some reason, obscure to herself and probably also to him, she had the power to force him outside his defences.

Because that is it - the thing that runs through every couple I've ever shipped. Buffy/Spike (although there it is him forcing her out of her defences), Jack/Ianto, Doctor/River, and - with a slight variation, in that these couples are also very old - Spike/Angel and Doctor/Master. Heck you can add Cutter/Leetah to that list, and Howl/Sophie - or even Elizabeth/Darcy... (um, not me. The Austen version.)

To quote the book again (it makes more sense in context - there's poetry involved - but I think it works on its own):

He did not want to forget, or to be quiet, or to be spared things, or to stay put. All he wanted was some kind of central stability, and he was apparently ready to take anything that came along, so long as it stimulated him to keep that precarious balance.

It's not about the strength of their [~romantic~] feelings (how *do* you measure love, anyway?), or about making each other happy; indeed a lot of my 'ships have at various points tried to kill each other. But that connection is still there, that ability to force honesty from each other:

"And I can fool Giles, and I can fool my friends, but I can't fool myself. Or Spike, for some reason."

"It's not pretty, but it's real."

I could go on, but I think this speaks for itself pretty well. All thoughts welcome.

(promethia_tenk have you finished it yet? *looks hopeful* My ear is open like a greedy shark to catch the tunings of a voice divine...)

Comments

[elisi]

People are so very attached to their opinions, and tend not to take it well when you confront them with reality ;-) Ah well, more fun for us . . .
Indeed. :)

Oh, you can analyze anything (and I do). Defending, however, is an entirely different matter. As you say, though, that is simply Rusty, and it is unlikely to change.
*nods* Like I always say, it helped that I came from the world of Joss, who writes very similarly, although usually he has a team of writers who manage to fill most of the plotholes. :)

I haven't expressed myself clearly. I too was always conscious of the collaborative, dialogue aspect of online culture and the creativity that that inspires, and it was definitely one of the things that drew me in. What surprised me was the discovering ideas through writing--the things that come to you mid-sentence.
Oh I've got you now. Yes. I'm trying to cast my mind back, but it's all such a long time since I started out that I can't remember what happened. ;)

There's someone on my flist I've essentially instituted a "one response" rule for. Although admittedly she really does seem determined to be contrary.
I've got someone like that too...

Yeah . . . I'd like to see it. /geek
Went and had a look and decided to just do a cut and paste. The start of the fic in question is here (and you can find the whole verse here! You know how I can't do short? This 'verse is the proof...), but this is from the beginning of chapter 4, and - as you can see - very short indeed. Should probably mention that they're both 1st year Physics students and not very artistically inclined, and at this point only friends. ;) (Wildly AU verse, did I mention? 'Alex' is Alexander Saxon, son of the former prime minister, and the girl is called Allison. She's rather intrigued by her peculiar classmate.)

~~~

Only last week Alex had asked her to come ‘exploring’ with him, and they’d ended up in King’s College chapel. It had been the strangest experience, since he’d done a pretty good impression of her father – a history teacher through and through - running this way and that, pointing out historical oddities and getting very excited.

When she admitted not being terribly fond of history, he’d looked at her as if she was mad, and declared history to be the greatest subject in the world.

“So, why aren’t you studying history?” she’d asked, perfectly logically, and there had been a pause.

"Mostly because the courses are way too restrictive," the reply had finally been, and, before she had been able to explore the subject further, the organ had suddenly started playing, and Alex’s face had lit up, as if illuminated from above by a light bulb.

Then he’d dragged her up to the organ loft and somehow – Allison still wasn’t quite sure – talked the organist into giving him an impromptu lesson.

Any doubts that she might previously have had about his claim to be able to turn his hand to anything had been swiftly blown away, as in less than an hour he mastered the instrument. Having witnessed a seemingly never-ending stream of piano students traipse through the front door during her childhood - and still vividly remembering her own, less than enthusiastic, lessons - his feat impressed her more than she let on.

But most surprising of all had been the fact that once he'd got the hang of it, he thanked the stunned organist profusely, and then got up and left, his interest already elsewhere.