A @omgcpbigbang2021 fic coming to an AO3 near you on December 20!
Featuring: BEAUTIFUL original art by @atlasthemayor, an AMAZING moodboard by @the-lincyclopedia, tacos, gratuitous canon easter eggs, apologies, pie, Charmer, showing love through coding, and just a whole lotta words.
Read the first page below the cut!
anticipation (noun) an·tic·i·pa·tion | \ (,)an-ˌti-sə-ˈpā-shən \
1 b : the act of looking forward
especially : pleasurable expectation
// looked forward with anticipation to their arrival
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Will is doing some deep breathing. It’s not that he’s nervous or anything he’s just – centering himself, yeah. In and out. In and out. In and – okay he might be a little nervous, but who wouldn’t be starting a new job? Especially one that seems too good to be true?
It’s Will’s first day at Samwell Dictionary.
He’d applied on a whim, not planning to leave his job in Maine; he just applied to see what would happen, to see how he stacked up. If his old job was feeling out of touch and a little more like a chore, well—
So, he applied at Samwell. And look – Will is a computer guy, a numbers guy; the fact that he is now going to be working for a dictionary is so ironic as to be bordering on ridiculous. But he’d liked the feel of the place, even only having their website to go on. (The man who interviewed him, Johnson, had been extremely strange. Even the man’s odd comment of: “Acceptance at Samwell is a turning point in your life, no matter what universe you’re in,” hadn’t completely put him off.) Will has always been an extremely pragmatic person. The offer letter from Samwell marked the first and only time Will had made a major life decision without a pro/con list.
In and out. In and out. In and – oh for fuck’s sake it’s a dictionary, not a warzone, get out of your car.
He gets out of his car, smooths the wrinkles in his shirt, takes another deep breath, and finally gets a good look at the headquarters for Samwell Dictionary.
If anyone had asked Will, he would have said that an office for a dictionary would have lots of glass and marble floors; that it would feel vaguely European, or grand somehow. That it would have a sense of gravitas. The address he pulls up to is – not that. 115 Jason Street is a modest two-story brick building that looks like it used to be a factory. A little run-down, a few weeds, but decently taken care of. There are massive windows on the north side of the second floor, so he was right about the glass at least. Something about the obvious wear (and care) on the building settles his nerves enough for him to go inside.
The sense of rightness hits him out of nowhere. There is just something in the air that makes him feel at home, makes him feel like he’s made the right decision, makes him feel – is that pie he’s smelling? Or is he just hallucinating?
