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themostrandomfandom · 5 years

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Hi! I found your blog the TKTD, and that fic and your theories have highkey gotten me back into glee :D your content is so interesting, thank you so much! I haven't read all of your analyses yet, so I may have missed something, but I'm still wondering a couple things 1. why did Brittany fail senior year? You've written a lot about her not being dumb (despite her intelligence being non-normative), and we know she's able to do at least very advanced math. It seems like her primary goal would be...

To move to the next stage of life with Santana, so why wasn’t avoiding failing out a bigger priority for her? Furthermore, as someone who was so involved with extracurriculars (Cheerios, glee), she must’ve needed to maintain reasonable grades to avoid academic suspension. So avoiding failing seems like something that would be on her radar? and 2. do you think brittany dropped the ‘if sex were dating santana and i would be dating’ line on purpose?

Hey, @savealtonrichards!

Sorry it’staken me so long to answer you! I don’t have much internet access these days.:p

If you’re infor a good ramble, it’s under the cut.

(WARNING:Here be griping about Glee writing—as one does.)

___

First thingsfirst:

Theout-of-universe stuff.

Glee is a show that’s difficult to categorize because while it ostensibly takes place withina realistic fictional universe (as opposed to say a fantasy or science fictionone), there are times when it noticeably deviates from reality.

Though thecharacters seemingly live in suburban Ohio in the early 2010s and areregular human beings living “regular lives,” there are certain aspects of theirexistences that absolutely strain credulity (even when one actively tries tosuspend disbelief).

Some ofthese breaches are obvious, like when Lord Tubbington is shown as being capableof using a computer. However, others manifest more as gaps in logic—the typesof minor “glitches” in believability that cause the viewing audience to go,“Wait a minute. That’s not how that plot development would play out in reallife.”

One exampleof this second type of breach is how between S4 and S6, the young charactersliving in New York, most of whom are supposedly tight on money, arenevertheless able to jet set back and forth to Lima seemingly every otherweekend, as if plane and train tickets are free and travel takes no time orenergy at all. Another is that Sue Sylvester could do all of the illegal,immoral, and just flat-out batshit insane things she does without ever being firedor prosecuted. Still another is that nineteen and twenty year-old kids likeBlaine, Finn, and Sam could be hired to coaching positions at their respectivehigh school alma maters, even though none of them holds a college degree orteaching certificate.

The breachin realism that is pertinent to our discussion has to do with Brittany’sacademic history—which as depicted in show canon is replete with gaps and holesand just doesn’t make much sense.

In episode1x07, we are told that for years Sue has been doctoring the grades of herCheerios, including perhaps Brittany’s. However, even after Will puts his footdown and flunks many of their teammates, the Unholy Trinity, including Brittany,continues to attend Cheerios practice. They are the only Cheerios who do.

How theyalone of the whole squad retain their academic eligibility is not clear.Santana may not be taking Spanish, as she’s not shown in the class. However,Quinn and Brittany most definitely are, so either they must be passing (whiletheir teammates are not) or else Will must have decided against giving them thefailing grades they would otherwise deserve, perhaps because he doesn’t want torender them ineligible for glee club.

WillSchuester is nothing if not a hypocrite, so honestly I wouldn’t put it past himto walk that particular low road.

In any case,the show never really clarifies to what extent Brittany may rely on Sue tomaintain a passing GPA.

ThroughoutS1, Brittany is reported to cheat off of Becky’s schoolwork in math class (seeepisode 1x09) and is shown attempting to cheat off of Quinn’s tests in Spanishclass (see episode 1x07), incidents which suggest that she does at timesstruggle with academic performance during her sophomore year.

However, herstruggles are not explored in depth, and her continued eligibility for theCheerios would indicate that either she somehow manages to make passing grades,struggles notwithstanding, or else that interference from Sue renders herstruggles moot.

Kurt alsoreports that Finn sometimes cheats off of Brittany’s math assignments (seeepisode 1x10). We don’t know if this cheating represents an isolatedincident or a pattern of behavior. However, if it’s the second option, then given that Finn maintains his academiceligibility for football even after having cheated off Brittany’s work, andconsidering that, unlike with Brittany, Sue is unlikely to have doctored Finn’sgrades, we can perhaps surmise that Brittany at least occasionally managesto earn passing grades on her own.

Even if Sueis pulling strings to keep Brittany on the field, come S2, the situationchanges, as in episode 2x11 Brittany quits Cheerios, at which point whatever“help” Sue had been giving her is almost certainly rescinded.

Shortlythereafter, in episode 2x13, Brittany remarks that hergrades are bad (“Totally. Most teachers think that by cutting class, I mightimprove my grades”), perhaps suggesting a drop-off due to a cessation in Sue’shelp.

Even so, it would still seem that Brittany isn’t altogether failing, asshe apparently passes the eleventh grade and commences thetwelfth grade with the rest of her class.

The shownever specifies to what extent Brittany and the other glee kids must maintaintheir grades in order to stay in show choir. On the one hand, glee club is notan athletic program, so the rules for eligibility may be different than withcheerleading or football. On the other hand, glee club is seemingly anextracurricular activity in which students may “letter,” and it does have itsown governing board and competition requirements, so perhaps its eligibilityrequirements are similar or even identical to those for prep sports. To whatextent there may be “house rules” specific to WMHS as opposed to district orstatewide rules for all competitive show choirs remains unclear.

My guess isthat there’s got to be some kind of statewide threshold for eligibility,particularly as we’re told, per Jesse St. James, that the Carmel High kids in VocalAdrenaline cheat and doctor their grades in order to maximize their practicetime and minimize their schoolwork.

Whatever thespecific requirements may be, the fact that Brittany remains eligible toparticipate in glee club throughout her junior year is another point that maysuggest that even without Sue’s interference Brittany maintains a passing GPA. ThatBrittany is eligible to rejoin the Cheerios come her senior year also suggeststhat her eligibility remains intact as she finishes out the eleventh grade.

However,things seem to take a sudden downshift from there, both in terms of Brittany’sprospects and in terms of narrative sense-making.

Come S3, we arefinally told that Brittany has a 0.0 GPA, though it’s never specified if that’sher semester, yearlong, or cumulative GPA. My guess is that it’s the secondoption, given that Brittany is told she must repeat the twelfth grade (asopposed to just making up a few credits during summer school or repeating multiplegrades).

That said,the situation surrounding her failure remains murky.

Prior to S3,Brittany has seemingly maintained a passing GPA, as is evidenced by heraforementioned progress through her freshman, sophomore, and junior years ofhigh school and her continued academic eligibility to participate in Cheeriosand glee club.

However, theshow never reveals how she has come by this passing GPA.

Our threemain options for explaining this phenomenon seem to be:

We can infer that Sue hasmanipulated Brittany’s grades in order to keep her academically eligible forvarsity sports.

We can infer that Brittanyhas achieved passing grades through her own efforts.

We can infer that perhaps somecombination of the above two options has taken place (i.e., that Sue hasmanipulated some of her grades, while others she earned through her ownefforts).

On the onehand, the show heavily implies that Brittany is a very poor student who wouldprobably be incapable of passing her classes if not for Sue manipulating thesystem on her behalf. On the other hand, given that Brittany maintains academiceligibility for Cheerios even when Will flunks many of her teammates in hersophomore year AND that she spends a significant portion of her junior year offthe Cheerios and still manages to pass, it would seem that Brittany is able tomake grades even during the times when Sue isn’t propping her up.

The questionsthen become: If Brittany can pass the eleventh grade “on her own,” then whydoes she fail the twelfth grade? Furthermore, how come Brittany is allowed toremain on the Cheerios and in glee club even once her grades start slipping?Why does her failure only come to light after it is essentially too late forher (or anyone else) to do anything about the problem? How come Sue, who hasnever had any qualms about manipulating her cheerleaders’ grades in the past,seemingly “allows” Brittany to fail her senior year? How come not a singleteacher or counselor at WMHS makes any efforts to help Brittany, even thoughshe is obviously struggling?

After all, Brittany’s 0.0 GPA seems to be a reflection of a chronic problem.

The firsttime we hear about said failing GPA is in episode 3x19, which is the sameepisode that features the WMHS senior prom.

For mostAmerican public high schools, prom takes place anywhere between March and June,which means that somehow Brittany is allowed to fail for at least one or two fullsemesters (or, more likely, given that many Midwestern American public schoolstend to run on the quarter system, two or even three full quarters) before Figgins tells her what’s up.

The school thenseemingly takes no action—at least as we see play out on screen—to helpBrittany course-correct for the final semester or two quarters of her senioryear.

She’s notput on academic monitoring or probation. She’s not assigned a tutor. MissPillsbury doesn’t set up any meetings with her to discuss her options or determineher future. No one writes her an IEP. She just crashes and burns until the endof the year, at which point she fails to graduate.

It strainscredulity that in today’s day and age Brittany could flunk out as “quietly” asshe did, without anyone—including her parents, coaches, guidance counselor,and/or girlfriend—realizing she was in trouble at any point along the way.

Where werethe midterm progress reports? The report cards? The summonses to MissPillsbury’s office? The failed tests that required the signature of her parent orguardian? Santana glimpsing an F on her Spanish essay and ripping Mr. Schue agoddamn new one because who is he to tell Brittany she isn’t conjugating verbsright when he can’t tell his own ass from an ñ?

Shouldn’tsomeone somewhere along the way have noticed something was wrong while therewas still time enough left to do something about it—and particularlyconsidering that Brittany is not only a student but a student athlete?

Per the OhioHigh School Athletic Association, a student must earn “passing grades in aminimum of five one-credit courses, or the equivalent, in the immediatelypreceding grading period” of athletic competition in order to be eligible toparticipate in a varsity sport, so in theory, after she fails that first term,Brittany shouldn’t be able to compete as part of the Cheerios squad at all, letalone be one of the senior leaders.

For therecord, the real life school districts in Lima, OH require a minimum GPAbetween 2.5 and 3.0 for student athletes.

One has towonder: Where is Sue in all this? How come she doesn’t intervene once she seesthat first bad report card?

After all,Sue has no qualms concerning academic dishonesty. By her own admission, she’s meddledwith her cheerleaders’ grades for years. Why shouldn’t she simply meddle in this case, too? Wouldn’tit be in her best interest to keep Brittany eligible to compete?

Come S4, Sueherself blames a “haze of pregnancy hormones” for preventing her from noticingBrittany’s S3 academic nosedive (see episode 4x02). Another contributory factor to her negligence may be her vicious congressionalcampaign against Reggie Salazar and Burt Hummel.

However,that Sue would allow Brittany to fail still presents a narrative problem, nomatter what her excuses for doing so may be, because the fact remains that academiceligibility is an issue that extends beyond her sole purview.

OnceBrittany fails the first academic quarter of the 2011-2012 schoolyear, shebecomes ineligible to compete in interscholastic competitions. The issue is outof Sue’s hands and into those of the Ohio High School Athletic Association.Some state official somewhere has the responsibility to mark her fileand bar her from any further participation in state cheer events.

—and yetthat never happens.

Somehow,Brittany remains a cheerleader (and member of the glee club) for the duration of the schoolyear, despite not passing a single class.

It’s one ofthose lapses in believability—those “Wait a minute. That’s not how thatdevelopment would happen in real life” instances—that takes Glee out of the realmof passingly realistic fiction and into the realm of exaggeration and camp.

There’s noway that Brittany could fail an entire year of school without facing anyacademic consequences—that’s just not the way that the American school systemworks, particularly when it comes to athletic eligibility.

How comeFiggins only notes Brittany’s failures in springtime? What is going on during the fall and winter?

For the record, episode 3x19 originally aired on May 8th, 2012. Within the universe of the show, the action of the episode may take place on the same date or at least a proximal one.

By allaccounts, someone somewhere along the way should notice what’s going on—if nota faculty member at Brittany’s own school, then some official on an athleticeligibility committee, or a college cheerleading coach scouting Brittany for anNCAA scholarship, or an auditor working for the superintendent, or a rivalcheerleading coach digging for dirt on Sue Sylvester’s stars.

Someone!

But no onedoes.

I mean,that’s what the show purports.

Figgins knows enough to inform Brittany thatshe’s failing, but he doesn’t do anything to help the situation except to lectureher for neglecting her duties as the senior class president and badger her intoplanning the prom.

Will and Emma, too focused on rescuing Puck from a similarfate, seemingly remain either oblivious to or unconcerned about Brittany’sacademic woes until she’s on the verge of failing her SECOND consecutive senioryear in S4.

And Santana? She’s blindsided. Somehow, even though she andBrittany take classes together and meet up during every passing block and spendall of their spare time in each other’s company outside of school, she has noidea that Brittany is in academic jeopardy—not until Brittany springs the newson her at BreadStix just before what should be their joint graduation.

Not untilit’s too late.

That’s canonas TPTB at Glee wrote it.

It makes nogoddamn sense, but it’s what we’re stuck with.

So.

Onto thesecond order of business, then:

Thein-universe stuff.

Returning toyour original questions: Why does Brittany fail her senior year—from asituational and character perspective? How come she doesn’t work harder not tofail?

Though earlyon, Glee at times tried to play Brittany off as an accidental or even dubiousgenius—such as in the scene in episode 4x22 where she’s first shown solvingcomplex equations for the researchers at MIT—they later fully committed to herprodigy, acknowledging it as the real deal.

By episode5x12, Baby Girl is shown as being capable of tackling the Riemann Hypothesis.Her work at MIT is serious. By S6, she’s doing complex math for fun, albeitwith kitty doodles drawn in the margins. The Brittany of episodes 6x03, 6x06,and 6x08 is able to slip in facts and impressive logical arguments alongsideher usual Brittanyisms and one-liners. Her intelligence is no longer subject todebate.

So what’sthe deal with her flunking out of high school? How can someone capable ofprocessing the most complicated calculus there is fail at high school algebra?

Here’s thething: While Brittany is indeed a certified math genius, there’s not always aneat one-to-one correlation between “raw intelligence” and “academicsuccess.”

Lots offolks who are plenty bright—including many who have impressive naturalaptitudes in certain areas—fail in traditional classroom settings, even inclasses that by all accounts they “should be good at.”

Some havebehavioral tendencies that are incompatible with the classroom culture. Others findthe course materials boring, either because they already know the materialbeing taught or else because the material is being taught in a way that isn’tconducive to their learning style. Still others learn at a different pace thanwhat the curriculum may allow for, working either faster or slower. Many simplytest poorly or have trouble focusing. Organizational issues, language barriers,home circumstances (which may interfere with one’s ability to complete homeworkor come to class rested and ready to learn), individual teacher-studentdynamics, problems with bullying at school, health or disability factors, etc.,etc. may also affect one’s ability to “make grades.”

Many of thesmartest people there are have failed in formalized academic settings. Conversely,many people of average or even below average aptitudes have found ways tosucceed in the classroom. Other factors such as one’s work ethic, connection toteachers and mentors, support networks, accommodations, etc. can also impacteducational success.

In Brittany’scase, there are myriad reasons why, despite her certified genius, she fails herclasses.

For onething, WMHS is a substandard learning environment, just to start out with.

Theatmosphere there is toxic. Bullying runs rampant, with the staff either whollyapathetic toward, powerless to intervene in, or even sometimes party to theperpetuation thereof.

The administration routinely mismanages its resources,spending an inordinate amount of money to support the cheerleading and footballprograms, though lacking certain other necessities—such as a functional specialeducation department, adequate handicap accommodations, and up-to-datetextbooks.

They also hire teachers who are both underqualified (such as Will,who teaches Spanish for years despite not actually speaking the language) andfrequently abusive (such as Sue, who should literally be serving jail time forthe way she treats the student body).

Multiple times, it’s stated that theirstudents test at below average reading levels.

While only a small percentage ofwhat Sue says should ever be believed, her claims that she doctors the gradesof her Cheerios to maintain their academic eligibility to participate in avarsity sport are seemingly accurate, as Will and Principal Figgins aver that such is this case.

Not a single permanentteacher, principal, or guidance counselor at the school, with perhaps theexception of Coach Beiste, appears competent to do their job.

The hijinks ofvarious staff members and students regularly interfere with the learning day.

Rememberthat old post about JennaB. Lacey, the Hogwarts student who just wants to get a proper education but isconstantly prevented from doing so because she has the misfortune of being inthe same year as one Harry Potter, whose adventures and misadventures areconstantly interrupting her lessons and preempting her exams? Just replace “Harry Potter” with “Rachel Berry” or “SueSylvester,” and you’re basically describing the life of your average WMHSstudent.

Though wedon’t spend a lot of time following the New Directions kids through theirregular classes, the few glimpses that we do get suggest that much of thecurriculum they are subjected to is either outdated or else straight upobjectively incorrect.

While theepisode plays the situation for laughs, Holly Holliday’s points about the sexeducation at WMHS being painfully inadequate aren’t at all off the mark. Mrs.Hagberg seems to experience episodes of dementia while teaching (and is aself-admitted painkiller addict). She frequently forgets her spatiotemporallocation and has on occasion been known to teach that the Nazis won WWII. Will speaksSpanglish and buys into racist stereotypes about Latinos. Sue promulgatesconspiracy theories and unsubstantiated revisionist history, purposefullyspreading misinformation as if she were the White House Press Secretary.

Later on, inS6, it’s shown that a complete overhaul is necessary to update the school’stechnology and curriculum in order for the students to start performing up tostandards on their state tests.

—and there’sBrittany, who learns differently than most people do, stuck in the middle ofall of this chaos.

Honestly,it’s a wonder that any of the kids at WMHS achieve any kind of mainstreamacademic success. That Quinn gets into Yale and Tina into Brown is kind of ascholastic miracle, all things considered.

So she’s upagainst a lot of impediments as barriers to her learning just as a baseline.

Then add inher individual difficulties on top of the other stuff.

Brittany’sis a unique mind. It is unclear to what extent book-learning and traditionaleducation work for her. She has a tendency to metaphorize concepts, suggestingthat she is an abstract thinker. Her flair for malapropisms also intimates thather mind is organized in “webs,” with various like-words grouped together byloose strings of associations. Though she is mathematically intelligent, she isalso emotionally intelligent and physically intelligent, as well.

Early on,her genius seems highly intuitive, as she is able to pull numbers out of theair, though she is not always equally able to explain how or by what means she hasdone so. In time, her methods seem to become more examined and deliberate, withtheory underlining what was once a more reflexive capability.

She isperhaps something of an autodidact, able, for instance, to teach herselfSpanish, though she apparently doesn’t fare well in the class in high school.

Though fewpeople on the show, save Santana, realize as much, she frequently runs abouttwo or three steps ahead of everyone else in terms of her conversations andsocial maneuvers. Her zany quips and seemingly innocent demeanor throw peopleoff, to the point where they don’t pick up on just how wily and keen she canbe.

On the onehand, this phenomenon affords her some social leeway—because, after all, she’sjust “Brittany being Brittany.” On the other hand, it sometimes results inthose who fail to understand her talking down to her, infantilizing her, andblowing her off.

Frequently, both Brittany and the people who engage with herwalk away from their interactions frustrated, Brittany because she’s beencondescended to, her conversation partners because they find herincomprehensible and off-putting.

So.

Considerthat many of her teachers—including Will—seem to be confused by the way shetalks and find her irksome to deal with and so tend to be dismissive of herduring classroom discussions.

Because herintelligence is non-normative, a teacher talking about A subject can get her thinkingoff on a tangent about B subject, C subject, and D subject, and pretty soonshe’ll be blurting out a question or comment about Z subject, which from herteacher’s perspective does not relate to the discussion topic at hand and mayeven derail the lesson, distracting the other students. The teacher then eitherreacts to Brittany’s question or comment with annoyance, shutting her down(such as Ms. Hagberg does in episode 3x02); or reacts with bafflement, ignoring her andglossing over what she’s said (such as Will does in episode 1x10). Either way, Brittanydoesn’t get her questions answered or her comments responded to in aconstructive manner, which means that, invariably, she doesn’t get what sheneeds to out of class.

By the timewe first meet her as a sophomore, Brittany’s reputation as a nuisance and“numbskull” precedes her.

Her teachersmake no effort to hide their low opinions of her intelligence.

In episode2x04, everyone ribs Puck for crashing his mom’s car into an ATM and gettingarrested. Brittany joins in the fun, remarking, “He may be the dumbest personon this planet—and that’s coming from me.” Though the moment is generallyjocular, the fact that Brittany’s teacher Will says nothing to defend her toherself speaks volumes. The incident is also not an isolated one, as later inthe season, in episode 2x17, Will directly questions Brittany’s intelligence toher face (“I get the three of you being on [the Brainiacs], but Brittany?”).

Tack on allthe instances when he responds to Brittany’s comments during rehearsals (andeven her later “cries for help” during S4) with bafflement at best and disdainat worst, plus the way he clearly talks down to her as if she were a youngchild rather than a teenager, and there’s no question that he thinks she’s adolt.

And he’s notthe only member of the WMHS faculty who feels that way, either.

SueSylvester is likewise a serial offender when it comes to calling Brittany dumband infantilizing her. Ditto for Hagberg and Figgins. Though we don’t get tosee Brittany interacting with many other members of the staff aside fromSheldon Beiste, Holly Holliday, and Shelby Corcoran—the last two of whom areonly at the school briefly—it stands to reason that there are other teacherswho share the same negative attitude toward her that the featured teachers do.

At onepoint, Brittany even says that her teachers have told her that her grades mightactually improve if she were to slough her classes.

Brittany’s“stupidity” is widely viewed as a given.

Time andtime again, the show depicts people taking her intelligence for granted andassuming the worst of her capabilities. Such attitudes undoubtedly influencethe way that her teachers approach educating her. If a smart kid like Quinn orArtie isn’t grasping a concept, then teachers will try changing their pedagogyup, teaching the lesson in a different, more effective way. The same is trueeven for an average student like Mercedes. If she’s struggling, a teacher’simpulse will be to show her patience because there’s a good chance thateventually (with some hard work and extra credit) she’ll get it. But not so with Brittany, whom most teachers seem to viewas an idiot. Why slow down a class for her? Why assign different readings? Whytutor her after school? Their assumption is that she is a lost cause.

Sue potentiallydoctoring her grades—and those of the other Cheerios—also exacerbates theproblem.

Thoseteachers who are aware of Sue’s meddling, and especially the ones who have beenbullied by her into being complicit, may feel a lessened sense of obligation toreally teach Brittany or attempt to accurately evaluate her learning because,after all, no matter how Brittany performs, she’s going to be handed a passinggrade in their classes anyway.

Conversely,those teachers who remain unaware of Sue’s meddling may believe that givingBrittany a failing grade will result in meaningful academic consequences forher, which will then lead to her getting the help and attention she needsvis-à-vis the systems that are in place to prevent kids from “falling throughthe cracks.”

Of course,because Sue changes Brittany’s grades after the fact, Brittany never receivesany such help.

The systemsdon’t attend to her. Nothing in her file gets flagged. No one pulls her aside.She just gets passed along from year to year and class to class without anyoneever really taking an interest in her learning.

Either way,she’s left ill-equipped to succeed in high school.

On top ofeverything else, Brittany may also have an undiagnosed learning disability,such as ADHD or ASD. Though of course the show never states that she does havea disability (undiagnosed or not), some neurodivergent fans see in Brittany a kindred spirit whose experiences inthe public school system resemble their own.

It’sdefinitely possible that she could benefit from some accommodations.

But as faras we know, they’re never offered to her—not only because, as we learn from Sueregarding Becky Jackson, WMHS doesn’t offer special education classes, but alsobecause everyone thinks that she’s just “Brittany being Brittany,” and she’s a hopelesscase from the get-go.

So howeversmart Brittany may naturally be, she’s got alot stacked against her at WMHS, including antagonistic teachers, theabysmally low expectations people set for her, Sue’s interference with hergrades (and then the sudden cessation of that interference), her non-normativelearning strategies, and other possible factors.

Add in thatduring her senior year, she’s also dealing with some extra pressures outside ofthe classroom, and what we have is a recipe for a disaster.

Note: Ofcourse, the show deprives us of hearing Brittany talk about the aftermath ofSantana’s outing, suspension, and disowning in her own words, but HeatherMorris’s nonverbal cues show that Brittany’s upset during this period is hardfelt. It’s a stressful time in Brittany’s life, and even after the initialwounds have healed somewhat, Brittany still devotes much of mental andemotional energy to trying to ameliorate the situation, to keep Santana in agood place, to help her smile, and carry on. That’s not to say that Brittana’srelationship or Brittany’s efforts to make Santana happy cause Brittany to failher classes. It’s just to say that Brittany’s senior year is one in which shehas a lot on her mind beyond the regular cares of just being a teenager.

Thesituation as it is, it’s perhaps unsurprising that she should struggle.

However, thequestion still remains: Why doesn’t she ask for help?

No one, includingher parents, teachers, or girlfriend, seems to notice she’s academicallydrowning until it’s too late. But just because they don’t notice on their owndoesn’t mean that Brittany can’t alert them to the situation, right? So whydoesn’t she turn to Mr. Schue and say, “I need some extra help on my historyhomework,” or confide in her parents that she’s just bombed another Englishexam, or ask Santana if they can perhaps study for chemistry class together?Wouldn’t it be in her best interest to do so? Shouldn’t she want to graduate sothat she can get on with her life (and follow Santana)? Why not just reach outto someone?

Easier saidthan done.

Brittany hasspent her whole life being disparaged for “not being smart enough.” Is shereally going to admit she’s struggling to many of the same people who are activelycontributing to her struggles?

Sure,ostensibly, Mr. Schue is her teacher, and he’s supposedly an advocate for her.But can she really turn to someone who has routinely made her feel like anidiot and confess to him that she’s not understanding her classes—andespecially when she’s fully aware that, even if she were to ask him for help,he is probably not the best person to offer it, considering that he’s not actuallya qualified teacher?

The samegoes for Sue, who habitually preys upon Brittany’s vulnerabilities and has beenknown to blackmail students whenever she has any sort of leverage over them.Brittany would have to be an even bigger fool than the one people take her forin order to ask a favor of a megalomaniac of Sue’s caliber.

If Brittanywere to turn to her, the best case scenario would be that she would once againresort to doctoring Brittany’s report card—which is not necessarily an outcomethat Brittany wants. The worst case scenario would be that she would find someway to make Brittany’s life hell for having even approached her.

Brittany has to wonder: Is there any good that could come of prompting Sue totake action if she hasn’t already done so (unprompted) yet?

Not evenEmma is a safe bet, considering that she seems completely oblivious toBrittany’s plight, even though it is literally her job to be on top of it.

She doesn’t pushWill to include Brittany in his Saturday Night Fever competition alongsideFinn, Mercedes, and Santana (see episode 3x16). She isn’t present to participatein the “come to Jesus” meeting Figgins calls Brittany in for before the prom (seeepisode 3x19). Nowhere along the line does she show any concern for Brittany’sGPA, even though she has access to Brittany’s records and presumably has aprofessional imperative to counsel with her concerning her future.

If she can’tbe assed to take an interest in Brittany’s academic struggles even though she’sbeing paid to do so, then Brittany’s not going to beg her to get involved.

Her inactionhas already sent the message loud and clear: Brittany is on her own.

As for whyBrittany doesn’t turn to her parents or Santana for help, things arecomplicated on that side, too.

Since wedon’t know much about Brittany’s relationship with her parents aside from thelittle we see of it in S6, it’s difficult to say why she doesn’t approach themfor help. Maybe she fears disappointing them. Maybe she feels that they won’tunderstand why she’s failing. (They might assume she’s being lazy or goofingoff rather than facing legitimate roadblocks to her learning.) Possibly,they’re dealing with some kind of crisis of their own at the same time thatBrittany realizes that she’s failing, so she doesn’t want to “bother them” withwhat she’s going through. Perhaps she does approach them but they either can’t or won’t helpher.

There’s alsothe possibility that Brittany is reluctant to involve her parents in her issuesbecause she fears the consequences if they find out that Sue has been doctoringher grades for years. How can she explain to them why she’s gone from having apassing (and perhaps even impressive) GPA in years past to having a failing(and even abominable) GPA this year? She’d have to admit that Sue’s been fudgingher report cards to preserve her academic eligibility—and doing so might resultin her parents asking her questions that she doesn’t want to answer.

Either shewould have to say that she had gone along with Sue’s meddling (even though sheknew what Sue was doing was wrong) OR she would have to admit that Sue hasbasically been abusing and blackmailing her and the other Cheerios, making herscared to come forward about the academic dishonesty. The first option oversimplifiesthe situation. The second option is the truth but one that’s probably difficultfor her to cop to.

In any case,for whatever reason, Brittany either doesn’t bring her problems to her parents’attention or she does but they can’t (or won’t) help her.

WithSantana, things are different.

Brittanyknows that if she approaches Santana with her problem, Santana will not onlycare but also understand all of the extenuating circumstances. Santana knowsabout the Sue stuff. She also sees how teachers and other staff members tend toreact to Brittany. She’s fully aware of the injustice. She’s also fully awarethat Brittany’s genius is misunderstood—that Brittany is smart, though her smarts don’t necessarily translate to hertopping the Honor Roll every semester. Santana has the full view of thesituation, and there’s no question that she’d be sympathetic to Brittany’sissues and do everything in her power to get Brittany help, if Brittany justsaid the word.

The troubleis that Brittany doesn’t want to say the word—not when Santana has been dealingwith her own troubles, which, on the whole, from Brittany’s perspective, seem so much bigger and moreagonizing than Brittany’s own.

Brittanycan’t bring herself to interject, “Um, excuse me, Santana, but can we take a break fromdealing with you being outed the entire state of Ohio, suspended from school,disowned by your grandmother, and homophobically bullied so that we can talkabout my algebra test?;” not when she knows that if she points out that she isfailing, Santana will pump the brakes on her own plans and ambitions in orderto stand by her side.

She doesn’twant to hold Santana back when Santana is on her way out of their stifling, gay-bashingtown, onto bigger and better things. She doesn’t want to drag Santana herpersonal turmoil, not when Santana is just finally getting clear from theturmoil in her own.

—andespecially not when Brittany views her own failure as inevitable.

Yeah, shecould tell Santana, and, yeah, Santana would try to move heaven and earth tohelp her. But in the end, there’d be nothing Santana could do. Brittany wouldstill fail, not due to any lagging efforts on Santana’s part, but becauseBrittany has never been able to succeed in school no matter how hard she tried,because the whole system is rigged against her and always has been. No matterhow much effort Brittany expends to show people she’s got a fine brain in herhead—by winning a quiz bowl championship, writing for the school newspaper,becoming class president, dishing out wise advice, etc.—no one except for Santanahas ever been willing to give her a chance. They always see her as an imbecileor a child. Even Santana can’t change the status quo. So why drag her into it?

InBrittany’s view, it’s better for her to help Santana pursue her dreams outsideof Lima than to do anything that might cause her to turn back or slow down.

ThoughBrittany often projects confidence, the truth is that just like the other twomembers of the Unholy Trinity, she has some serious and deep-seated self-esteemissues. After so many years of people calling her an idiot and treating herlike a child, part of her wonders if they aren’t perhaps right (see her speech in episode 4x22).

While shedoesn’t want to believe what the haters are saying, she also can’t help butfeel that maybe she is destined for Lima Loserdom. If so, then the last thingshe wants to do is drag Santana down with her—hence why she doesn’t mention herfailure to graduate until she’s sure that Santana leaving town and going toLouisville is already a done deal.

Is refusingto seek help from anyone a wise choice on Brittany’s part? No.

But havingdifficulty asking for help is a character flaw she comes by naturally. That agirl who’s been told “no” her whole life would be scared to ask anyone to takea chance on her and say “yes” makes sense. The behavior pattern is a consistentone that she displays throughout the show, such as, for example, in S4, whenshe stages not one but two separate public meltdowns in situations where sheneeds help but doesn’t know how to ask for it (see episodes 4x02 and 4x22).

Note: Thefact that Brittany actually brings herself to ask Santana if they can seekadult help regarding their relationship troubles in episode 2x15 shows just howmuch the issue means to her. Normally, Brittany would never suggest seekingoutside counsel, but in that case she wants so badly to set things to rightsbetween her and Santana that she petitions Santana to approach Holly Holliday.Her love for Santana outweighs her fear of making herself vulnerable.

Brittanydoes want to graduate high school. She does want to be with Santana andcontinue their relationship. She wants to escape Lima. She wants to prove thenaysayers wrong. She wants to start a new life somewhere where she’s notnegatively stereotyped and looked down on by everyone. She wants to livehappily ever after with the woman she loves. She wants all of these thingsdesperately, more than anyone really knows.

But she alsodoesn’t know how to get what she wants.

She feelsboxed in and like her situation is hopeless.

So she justtailspins until she crashes.

—and thetruly tragic thing is that nobody notices what’s happening with her until it’stoo late, either because they remain oblivious (like Santana) or because theyare apathetic (like Brittany’s teachers, coaches, and guidance counselors).

Per usual,Glee tried to play the situation for laughs, but there’s really nothing allthat funny about Brittany’s academic failures at all.

Like manystudent athletes, Brittany is a kid whose physical abilities have been valuedover her learning. As long as she’s helping the Cheerios to winchampionships—and make no mistake, like Quinn and Santana, Brittany is one ofSue’s superstars, whose dance and choreography talents are one of the main advantagesthat make the squad elite—then nobody cares if she struggles in her classes.It’s all about what she can do for the school and not what the school can dofor her.

Of course,in Brittany’s case, there’s even an added element of administrative apathy atplay beyond the usual “Just pass the girl so she’s competition eligible” bit.

Because ofthe way she thinks and acts, her teachers assume that she incapable of and/ordisinterested in learning. They allow their annoyance and exasperation with herto supersede whatever obligation they might feel to provide her with a realeducation.

The sad reality is that no one’s going to go out of theirway to teach a girl that they consider a) a nuisance to have in class; b)incapable of learning; and c) someone for whom grades don’t really matteranyhow, given that she’s one of the moving parts in Sue Sylvester’schampionship cheerleading machine.

So that’show Brittany makes it through grades nine, ten, and eleven: By being passedfrom hand to hand, with the faculty and administration turning a blind eye towhat’s happening because, ultimately, no one really cares about her educationanyway.

But thenBrittany enters grade twelve, and for whatever reason this system suddenlyfalls apart. Though she has previously made passing grades—some of themostensibly without Sue’s “help”—the coursework in her senior year gets thebetter of her.

Maybe thetwelfth grade material proves substantially more difficult than the eleventhgrade material. Maybe years of inadequate learning finally catch up to her. (Ifone never masters the basics of a given subject, then one can’t very wellnavigate more advanced material, after all.) Maybe the stress in her family andsocial life so distracts her from her schoolwork that she is no longer able to juggle it all, and she ends up dropping the academic ball. Maybe herteachers finally have enough of her antics and decide to grade her punitively. Maybea confluence of issues affects her.

Whatever thecase, she fails.

That no onein the WMHS administration takes an interest in her case is a tragedy. Thatshe doesn’t feel safe enough to ask any of her teachers or coaches for help isutterly heartbreaking. Particularly when we compare her story to Puck’s, thenumerous ways in which the system has failed her become painfully apparent.

No childshould flunk out of school because her teachers find her annoying.

—andespecially not when she is willing to learn, if only given the chance.

Throughouther time at WMHS, we frequently see Brittany taking notes in her classes andvolunteering answers during lectures, incorrect though some of those answerscertainly are. She isn’t a girl who sleeps through her schooldays or cutsclasses or goofs off. She’s trying her best. And as the way she really comesinto her own after she leaves WMHS proves, she isvery much capable of learning, albeit at her own pace and in her own way.

Imagine howvery different Brittany’s story could have been if even one teacher had realizedher potential—or had even just given her a chance of any kind.

Not onlywould it perhaps have been possible for her to graduate with the rest of herclass, but her genius could have been recognized sooner. The entire course of her life could have been changed for the better.

As thingsare, Brittany eventually succeeds inspite of her experiences in the education system, not because of them.

Hers remainsa sobering story.

Anyway.

Then, toanswer your second question:

No, I don’tthink Brittany drops the “—if it were, Santana and I would be dating” line onpurpose. I honestly think it’s a slip on her part.

Here’s thething:

ThoughBrittana don’t get a lot of foreground development during S1, they do have asubtle subtextual, “in the background” storyline that centers on the tension between howSantana thinks they need to be versus how they really are.

Whilethey’re both truly happiest when they’re monogamous with each other, Santanacontinually insists that they maintain publicly visible sexual relationshipswith popular boys at the same time that they’re sleeping with each other—youknow, to project at least the illusion of “straightness.”

However,despite her interest in appearing “heterosexual,” Santana is never able to keepup her sexual relationships with boys for long. Puck inevitably cheats on her.Finn inevitably turns back to Rachel. She invariably ends up back in amonogamous sexual relationship with Brittany, who is more than happy with thearrangement, given that she and Santana are actually in love. The cycle repeatsitself ad nauseum, until eventually, between episodes 1x10 and 1x13, Santanaand Brittany fall into a prolonged period of exclusivity with eachother.

During thistime, they’re sleeping together, plus doing all of their regular “best friend”things—you know, like sharing meals and going out to movies and sittingtogether in the back of the class and writing each other cute notes andcuddling and linking pinkies and generally being, you know, GIRLFRIENDS—whichis why Brittany feels confused about the status of their relationship.

Santana hastold over and over again that just because you’re having sex with someonedoesn’t mean you’re also dating them.

But she andSantana aren’t just having sex. They’re also doing all sorts of relationship-ystuff. Plus, you know, they’re in love with each other.

So doesn’tthat mean that they’re dating?

That’s thequestion that’s in Brittany’s mind going into the infamous party line scene inepisode 1x13.

To quoteextensively from thispost:

During S1,Santana feels secure in her arrangements with Brittany as long as she maintainsa sexual relationship with Puck and he brags about it around school. As long aseveryone knows that Santana has sex with a hot boy and “likes it,” then Santanafeels safe to also have sex with Brittany, per her own druthers. Even afterSantana and Puck officially break up circa episode 1x03, things are cool becausethey still keep having sex and Puck keeps broadcasting the fact that they do totheir peers.

But then circa episode 1x10, somethingshifts.

Though Puck and Santana continue to haveintermittent sex, Puck ceases to boast of their encounters starting around episode1x10, when he begins to woo Quinn in earnest, trying to prove his worthiness asa father and partner to her.

When Puck ceases to brag, Santana getsnervous and feels as if he has rejected her. Is she doing something wrong?Doesn’t he like it anymore? Does he know her secret?

In episode 1x11, Santana sexts Puck in adesperate attempt to rekindle his interest in her, but her efforts don’t panout. Pucktana likely stop sleeping together between episodes 1x11 and 1x13,and, when they do, it likely causes Santana to fear immensely for herreputation.

Ironically, though the thing Santana mostfears in losing Puck as her beard is that people will find out the truth abouther relationship with Brittany, Santana can’t help but run to Brittany when shefeels Puck’s attentions waning. She panics her way right into Brittany’s bed,seeking the approval, affection, acceptance, and validation there that shedoesn’t get from Puck. In so doing, she probably reveals some emotionalvulnerability or even neediness to Brittany.

Considering that Brittany is in love withher, it’s hard for Brittany not to read significance into her actions and thinkthat they signal something big.

Hint: They do.

Brittany starts thinking more and moreabout what’s going on between her and Santana. Since Santana isn’t dating Puckanymore, maybe Santana could date Brittany instead.

It’s because Brittany has the idea ofdating Santana in her mind—and heart—that she blurts it out to the group in1x13.

“Sex isn’t dating.”

“—if it were, Santana and I would bedating.”

It’s Brittany voicing what’s in her heartbefore she can really stop herself.

That she has no premeditated intention ofouting herself and Santana is clear from the look on her face the second thewords leave her mouth and she realizes what she’s just said. She spoke what wasmeant to be a private thought aloud, and she’s scared to death about what theconsequences might be now that she has. She immediately glances to Santana,gauging her reaction, wondering how badly she’s just fucked up theirrelationship. Though the conversation quickly moves on from that point, herheartbeat most likely doesn’t resume a normal pace for minutes afterward.

Anyway, I’ve jabbered for a good, ol’long while now.

Thanks for the questions!

#Crazy Brittanalyst Answers #savealtonrichards #Brittanalyzing #It's been a while kids #I just want queue

31 notes · View notes

nicolabarth · 6 years

Text

Birthday Fic: Fangirl’s Heaven

Pairing: Lucifer/Sam Winchester, side Michael/Dean Winchester

Summary: Sam's roommate Becky is a huge serial killer fan, but he's never expected her to invite her celebrity crushes home.

Warnings: Serial Killer AU, serial killer fandom, lots of fangirling, Becky is creepy, crack

A/N: I wrote this for @coplins‘ birthday. Happy Birthday! You said you wanted lots of bickering. So here you go.

Also, I want to thank my beta readers @askatosch, @brieflymaximumprincess and @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell

Read it on AO3

Sam probably needs to find another roommate. It’s not that Becky Rosen isn’t friendly. She’s even stopped being too friendly after some very stern words. But ever since she learned that he’s fascinated by serial killers and knows the body count and the MO of some of them, she thinks he’s one of those people. One of the people that write love letters into prison. Like Becky herself does every week.

That’s probably also why she thinks it’s okay to yank open his door one evening and screech: “The Archangels are free!” on the top of her lungs. As if that’s good news.

Sam looks up from the book he’s been trying to make sense of. “Didn’t they have a life sentence?” He asks.

“They totally did!” Becky is bouncing with barely contained enthusiasm. “But they broke out last night! Tumblr is going nuts right now! I already wrote another Michael x Reader where he needs the reader to hide him and it’s getting new notes by the minute!” She gets a dreamy look, staring at a point past Sam’s right shoulder. “And we’re forming a prayer circle for them to stay safe, and I know it won’t happen, but if Michael showed up here, I wouldn’t even care, if he killed me.”

For a moment, Sam kind of hopes he would, because that would spare him Becky listing everything she likes about Michael – which is a long list. He knows, because he’s heard it already more than once. “You know they’re not actually the typical serial killers?” He says to distract her. “They’re contract killers. So unless someone wants you dead–”

“Yes!” She interrupts him, beaming. “I’m mostly safe, right? I’m just saying, those hands? Imagine them wrapped around your neck!”

So much for distracting her. And that’s another thing Becky assumes about Sam. That the fact that he’s bi means he totally agrees with her when she talks about things she finds hot in men – and that he wants to hear about it. At the beginning he’s tried to stop her, but there’s no stopping Becky when she’s in gushing mode.

“Oh, and what I’d give to touch those abs at least once!”

“Becky,” Sam tries anyway, “I have a test tomorrow.”

“Sam! The Archangels are free! How can you think about tests right now?”

“Right.” Sam sighs. “Maybe you should check how many notes your new œuvre has by now.”

“Oh! Yes! I should!” With that she’s gone and Sam can concentrate on his studies again.

He’s almost ready to go to bed, when there’s a knock on the door of their little student apartment. Frowning, he starts towards the door, but Becky is faster. Sam can hear her moving in the small hallway with it’s kitchen niche. She unlocks the door, then there’s a gasp.

“Oh my god! OH MY GOD!”

If Sam hadn’t known better, he would’ve said Michael was standing outside, judging by Becky’s reaction. But it was probably just some other guy she was having a crush on. She was getting new crushes every week.

“Sssh,” comes a voice. Someone steps into the apartment, then there are more footsteps, more people.

“Oh my god!” Becky says again. The end of it is muffled, as if a hand is clasped over her mouth.

“Raphael, left door,” the voice says. “Lucifer, right door.”

Or maybe it really is the archangels, because Sam knows those names. For a moment he’s frozen in disbelieve. What the fuck did Becky do? She probably gave Michael her address when writing all her love letters didn’t she? In hope of getting one back. Of course she did. Sam curses silently, then hurries to his nightstand. In the upper most drawer, there’s a gun. He manages to wrap his fingers around the handle, before there’s a voice from the door.

“I’d drop that, if I were you. And then turn around. Slowly.”

Damn. Sam lets the gun go and turns around, lifting his hands. In his door stands a blond guy that he remembers vaguely from some Tumblr posts Becky has shown him. Even though those had always revolved around Michael, sometimes the other Archangels had been mentioned too.

So, this is Lucifer. The pictures hadn’t done the intensity justice with which his blue eyes look at Sam. He gives Sam a quick once over, lifts an eyebrow in a way that may imply that he likes what he sees, and motions for Sam to come closer. “Join us out here, will you?”

Sam slowly lowers his hands again, because he feels stupid with them up, but keeps them in sight. He knows the drill from when he’s still worked with his dad and Dean. They’d gotten into trouble often enough. That’s also why his heartbeat stays mostly steady, and only his thoughts are racing, going through his options, trying to assess his chances of making it out of this alive.

He walks closer toward the door, while Lucifer steps out into the hallway again. The gun always stay on him, though. Sam ignores it and looks around. By Becky’s door there’s a shorter man, talking to someone inside her room. And then there’s Michael, who has Becky backed against a wall, knife at her throat and one hand clasped over her mouth.

“You know,” Sam says. He can’t help it, because this is kind of funny. “That’s probably one of her fantasies.”

That makes Lucifer snicker.

Michael pulls a face as if he knows exactly what Sam means. Of course he does. He’s read the love letters. He doesn’t look happy about it, though. “Who are you?” He asks.

“Roommate,” Sam says. “Didn’t tell you about me, did she?”

“Which is a shame,” the short man by Becky’s door says. He must be Gabriel. “Not mentioning someone so–” He catches a dark look from Lucifer and grins. “Freakishly tall,” he ends his sentence.

Michael turns his attention to Becky again. “When you basically invited me to stay here, what did you imagine your roommate would say about that?” He takes his hand away from her mouth.

“You invited him to stay here?” Sam bursts out.

“I’m sorry, Sam!” Becky says. “But how could I not?” Slowly, she lifts a hand and puts it on Michael’s chest. A blissed out expression drifts over her face. “You’re even more beautiful in real life. Your lips, they’re–”

“Answer my question,” Michael interrupts her, knife digging a bit deeper into her skin.

Now there’s a hint of fear on Becky’s face. “Well, I figured you’ll be able to deal with him.”

Wait, did she just really …? “Did you just imply that they should kill me?”

“Wow,” Gabriel comments. “I hope she wasn’t your friend. I’d hate to have friends like that.”

“I’m sorry, Sam!” Becky almost sounds like she really is. “But you have to understand.” Her hand travels up Michael’s chest, and he scowls, grabs her wrist and pins it against the wall. That makes her gasp, and Sam doesn’t even want to be able to tell, if that’s a shocked or an excited gasp. He would almost feel sorry for Michael, if his brother or associate or whatever didn’t still have a gun pointed at Sam.

“Can we not?” Lucifer asks. “I kinda like him.”

Well, at least that’s slightly reassuring. Before Sam can say anything to his defence, the door to Becky’s room opens completely, and a woman with dark hair and high cheekbones appears in the entrance. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Well,” Gabriel says, “to our stuck up brother’s defence, we don’t exactly have many friends right now. And she sounded loony enough to be the real deal and not a trap.”

Raphael rolls her eyes. “From what I’ve seen on her computer screen, she definitely is the real deal. I would advise not to read, by the way. Unless you want a description of all of our brother’s … assets in great detail.”

Sam can practically hear Michael roll his eyes. “So no bugs anywhere?”

“No bugs,” Raphael says. “She’s really just a fan.”

“Of course I am!” Becky exclaims. “I’m your biggest fan! Of course I understand that you have to be careful, but–” Michael puts his hand over her mouth again.

“Gabriel, take a closer look at her computer,” he says. “And Lucifer, make sure the roommate doesn’t tell on us. I don’t care how.”

Now Sam’s heart starts to race, while Lucifer backs him into his room again. “Listen,” he hurries to say. “I don’t mind, if you crash here for a while. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

On his way backwards, his knees bump into the edge of his bed, and he half falls half sits down. Lucifer steps closer, barrel of his gun almost touching Sam’s forehead now. And Sam really doesn’t want to be a second Becky, but those blue eyes are mesmerizing. He finds himself staring up at them without being able to look away. “You’ll understand that we can’t just take your word for that.”

“‘Course,” Sam says. He wracks his head for something to say that would make sure he stays alive. Instead he just starts babbling. “But I’ve been there myself. Dad did all kinds of illegal business. My brother is actually in prison right now.” Wait, isn’t Dean in the same prison the Archangels have been. Maybe he can use that? “Maybe you know him. Name’s Dean Winchester. He’s sitting for credit card fraud and burglary.” Hopefully, they don’t know and hate him. It’s been a while since Sam has spoken to Dean. They hadn’t parted on the best terms.

“Dean Winchester?” Now there’s a grin on Lucifer’s face again. “Mike!” He calls. “I think I found your boyfriend’s brother!”

“Don’t kill him!” Michael calls back.

Sam collapses in relief. Michael’s boyfriend? What the fuck? This is the craziest coincidence to ever happen, but right now he takes anything he can get. Lucifer puts his gun away, still grinning. “He wanted to break out with us, got caught, though. Said you’d maybe help us, but he wasn’t sure about it and he wasn’t even sure where you live these days.”

“Well, I’ve been trying to stay out of trouble,” Sam says and can’t help that it sounds a bit reproachful. Now that it’s established that they won’t kill him, he feels bolder. “So it’d be really nice, if you didn’t get caught while staying here. But I’ll help you alright.”

“You can always say we forced you to help us.” Lucifer looks him up and down again, tip of his tongue visible in the corner of his mouth for a moment. “I can always hold you at gunpoint again. You know, that bitchface you made was glorious.”

Sam throws him exactly that bitchface again, and Lucifer laughs. “Wouldn’t be against tying you up either, if you prefer that,” he adds.

“How about you buy me dinner first?” Great. The whole situation is such a throwback to old times that he starts quoting Dean now.

“Good idea,” Lucifer says. “How about I buy you dinner as soon as we’re not number one topic of the news anymore?”

“Seriously?” He’d thought Lucifer was joking. Is he really flirting with him?

Lucifer opens his mouth to answer, but before he can say anything, Gabriel calls from the other room. “Lucifer! Come and look at this!”

“Not now, Gabriel!” Lucifer calls back.

“Seriously! You have to see this!”

Lucifer rolls his eyes, then he extends a hand to help Sam up.

“I have a test tomorrow!” Sam protests.

“And you can go and take your test, but for the time being, I’m not giving you alone time with a phone. Trust is a thing that has to be built slowly.” Lucifer winks. “Also, you don’t expect all of us to bunk in fangirl number one’s room, don’t you?”

Sam had kind of hoped that. “I’m not sharing my bed.”

“That’s a pity, but we’ll make do. Come on now.”

With a sigh Sam takes Lucifer’s hand and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

Next door Becky is sulking in a corner, while Gabriel and Raphael are huddled together in front of her computer. Michael is leaning against the wall next to the door, arms crossed in front of his chest, not looking amused at all.

“I’ll tell the whole fandom that you’re pretty rude to your fans!” Becky complains.

“We kill people for a living,” Raphael says. “What did you expect?”

“Well, I never liked you anyway!” Becky spits.

“Raphael has killer abs, too!” Gabriel chimes in. He’s rewarded with her elbow in his ribs and a bitchface from Becky.

“I’m not one of those shallow fangirls!” Becky insists. “Of course Michael has the looks of a greek god, but I’ve also analysed all of his kills, and it’s obvious that he’s always very gentle and merciful. That’s what drew me in!”

Next to Sam, Lucifer is laughing silently. “Gentle and merciful.” He snorts. “If you call burning people alive merciful, sure. But maybe you should live up to your reputation and be nice to your fan, Michael. Maybe give her an autograph to make her happy or something.”

In her corner Becky visibly perks up. Well, at least she’s easy to appease.

Gabriel turns to Lucifer and motions for him to come closer. “Come, look! There’s a whole fan community dedicated to us! You wanna know what they say about you?”

Lucifer glances at Sam with a doubtful look in his face. “Do I?”

Now it’s Sam’s turn to grin. “You probably don’t.”

“You’ll hear it anyway,” Raphael says dryly.

“Damn right, sis!” Gabriel turns towards the screen again. “This here is great! It’s a post about Lucifer not sitting in chairs properly during all our court dates. The caption reads: ‘Luci, my precious murder baby. Do you even know how chairs work? Look at him! So adorable!’”

“Did they seriously call me adorable?”

Sam can’t help it, he laughs, even when Lucifer throws him a murderous look.

“Well, let’s see what they write about you.” Lucifer grabs the back of Gabriel’s chair and pulls it back, away from the computer.

Gabriel tries to get up, but Raphael puts a hand in the middle of his chest and pushes him back. “Payback,” she says with a pleased smile. Sam definitely likes her.

In the meantime, Lucifer starts a search for Gabriel’s name. “Oh, look at this!” He calls. “Smol bean Gabriel. Too pure for this world. My sugar loving son. Protect him at all costs!”

Gabriel huffs. “I only ate candy during one court date! One!”

Now even Michael laughs. “They’ll send you lollipops until the day you die.”

“And probably put them on your grave, too,” Lucifer adds.

“Well, at least they love me,” Gabriel says. “Not gonna argue against a crowd of adoring fangirls. And boys. Do I have fanboys, too?”

“And fan nonbinary people probably,” Lucifer says. “It looks like a big crowd.” Then he starts a new search. For a while, there’s silence. “Hey!” He says after a moment. “Apparently ‘gay for Raphael’ is a search tag.”

“Finally some good content.” Raphael lets Gabriel go and steps next to Lucifer. “Let me see.”

Grinning, Lucifer steps back until he’s next to Sam again. “So …” He says in a low voice. “About buying you dinner.”

Sam smiles. “If you don’t make me fail my test, I’ll consider it.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely make sure you pass that test.”

The Archangels stay for a few days, and it’s pretty crowded, but also kind of nice. Sam realizes that he missed Dean, and it’s good to hear news from him. When they finally decide to move on, Sam holds Michael back for a moment. “If you get Dean out later, let me know.”

Michael nods. “You should visit him in prison while you still can.”

Sam smiles. “I’ll consider it.” He probably will.

The next moment there’s a hand on Sam’s shoulder. He turns to look straight into Lucifer’s icy blue eyes. “I’ll let you know about that dinner date.”

He’s definitely persistent. Sam’s smile gets a bit wider. “You do that.”

And that’s the point where they should say goodbye, but for a moment none of them moves. Finally, Lucifer leans forward a bit. Sam’s hands move almost by themselves and find their way to Lucifer’s waist, pull him closer until they’re flush chest to chest.

The next moment their lips meet. It’s a very chaste kiss at the beginning. Then the tip of Lucifer’s tongue flickers out, and Sam chases it, wants more.

A breathless “Oh my god!” from the direction of Becky’s room makes them break apart. When Sam looks over Lucifer’s shoulder, Becky is standing there, hands clasped to her heart. “Don’t mind me! Oh, you’re so cute together! I totally ship you!”

Lucifer pulls a face and Sam can feel himself do the same. He leans closer to Sam’s ear. “You should get a new roommate.”

Sam nods.

A few moments later they’re gone. And Becky leans against the kitchen counter, fanning herself. “Oh my. That was something! They are pretty rude, of course! But everybody will be so jealous of me! And you and Lucifer!” She gets that dreamy look again. “I totally have a new ship!”

Sam very much hopes that doesn’t mean there’ll be fanfic about them, but he fears there will. He makes a mental note to never google himself ever.

“Becky,” he says. “If you tell anyone that they were here, I’ll kill you.”

“Oh my,” Becky says with a smile. “You really fit right in, don’t you?”

He really has to get a new roommate.

Tagging: @schizonephilim@coffee-queen448@little-boyking @solo-skywlker @talkmagically@whinywingedwinchester @spn-you-idjits@samwise-the-true-hero @hooker-legs@consultingmooseintimeandspace@savagearchangelforthewin2-0 @me-fangirl@hardcorefangirlgroupie@thisisnotsteva@wearemykingdom @cat-n-claw

#samifer #sam winchester #lucifer #archangels #spn #supernatural #thearchangelnetwork

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backtothestart02 · 6 years

Text

A Kiss That Crackles - 1/1 | westallen fanfiction

A/N: It is here! My sole exception to my WA-free writing month. (Unless I get some more donations ofc) This is a super cute pilot canon divergent fic I think you guys will love, and is inspired by @valeriemperez‘s latest obsession ship in this scene that gave me so many WA feels I had to write this asap. I hope you enjoy!

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

(P.S. If I get enough donations, the next fic I’ll write will be of Barry taking Iris right against their front door after everyone leaves from Cecile’s baby shower in 4x20. IF THAT’S ANY INCENTIVE.)

Iris West bit her lip and tried to relax in the chair adjacent to the couch in Barry’s living room. She tried not to stare at him as he vibrated different parts of his body, sometimes accidentally, sometimes intentionally. Usually his wide-eyed expression would give him away, but discerning between surprise at his abilities and shock at displaying them accidentally was actually more difficult than she’d thought it would be.

Super speed.

Who would’ve thought?

A particle accelerator, a mass of floating chemicals, a lightning strike, and a coma… Nine months later, and her best friend had woken up with super speed.

It had taken him a little while to explain to her why he was so agitated over little things that seemed to be perfectly normal around her, but inevitably were very different to him. Or at least they would have been if he hadn’t sensed the outcome and diverted them from happening. The concept itself was as overwhelming to her as it was to him.

She was glad he had told her. It must’ve been terrifying waking up that way – though he did say he hadn’t realized what was happening until after they reunited. She wondered why that was, stifling down the reluctant boost it gave her ego that she’d more or less activated her best friend’s super powers.

Dr. Wells – the man Barry had admired for years – had a whole lot to say to him about his new powers and what he should be doing with them, as did the two people who had remained loyal to him despite the assault he’d faced from the media and the public by essentially throwing the city into panic with his failed particle accelerator. To their credit, Barry said they were less overbearing than the man who flat out told him he couldn’t be a hero just because he had super speed – that he needed to only use it to be studied for scientific purposes. As if he were nothing more than a lab rat to be tested on.

It made her furious just thinking about it, and equally bitter when she remembered how her dad had lashed out at Barry for still believing his father hadn’t murdered his mother, for insisting that there were others like him. ‘Metahumans’ – people who had gained powers following the particle accelerator explosion.

In times like these they only had each other.

He’d been halfway to Star City, which confused her, but she didn’t press as to why. Instead she offered to listen if he needed to talk, and he nearly crumbled on the other end. She wished they had been in the same place, so she can hold him.

And then they were.

He was in front of her in the home they grew up in, and her mouth was hanging open in disbelief, a million questions racing through her mind, when he answered them all in one fell swoop.

“I have super speed.”

He dashed across the room one, two, three times, so she’d believe him, but he didn’t have to. She would’ve believed him if he told her he could fly. Though it was certainly nice to have proof.

“The coma?” she’d asked.

He nodded. “The coma, the lightning…” he trailed off, and then proceeded to tell her everything that had happened throughout the day.

He wanted to do good with these powers, to make a difference – her Barry, of course he did.

But people who didn’t really know him or didn’t believe in him kept telling him what to do. It made him want to run and never look back.

He probably wouldn’t have run forever, he assured her. Which she told herself she should be comforted by. He’d been on his way to Star City because there was someone there he thought he could seek counsel from. Someone he’d met when he’d been there on assignment.

Again, she didn’t ask who. He would tell her when he was ready.

When he was finished talking, he stopped pacing, stared right at her and waited for her to respond. She hoped he wasn’t expecting rejection, but she didn’t make him wait long. She could hear his heavy breathing from across the room.

She licked her lips, debated what to say, and then abandoned any cleverly crafted reassuring words she could have offered. Instead, she walked over to him, stopped a foot away, and then closed the distance between them by hugging him close. She pressed her face to his chest and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.

“I’m glad you told me, Barry,” she finally said.

The tension in him melted away, and he returned her hug.

“Want to do a movie night?” she asked after a while, making no effort to let him go.

A heavy sigh came out of him.

“I really don’t want to be here when Joe comes home, Iris…I need time before-”

“Your place then,” she said, lifted her head so she could look at him.

He smiled wryly.

“It’s a mess, Iris.”

She shook her head and smiled. “It’s not.”

His brows furrowed. “It’s not?”

“Nine months ago, it was.” She stepped away and patted his chest. “Now it’s not.”

He was still confused, but he didn’t ask how she knew. He got the explanation when they walked in the door and the place was spotless, with even a few pieces of furniture replaced.

“Did…” He turned to face her. “Did you do this?”

She shrugged. “I had to do something while you were gone.” She swallowed hard, ordering her tears not to fall. “I was here most days, anyway.”

The heartbreaking look on his face when two tears managed to escape made her wipe at her cheeks furiously.

“Don’t, Bear. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He forced a smile, then nodded.

“I’ll order a pizza. You pick out a movie.”

He did as he was told. They spent the night forgetting the day, snuggling on the couch watching movie after movie, and ordering a few more pizzas. She didn’t question why he was so hungry and how he could eat so much. Maybe it was because he hadn’t eaten for nine months, maybe it was tied to his new powers, or maybe he just wanted to forget. Regardless, he didn’t seem aware of the strangeness of it. By the time midnight came, he appeared to have filled his stomach and was contentedly close to falling asleep.

She watched him from where she sat beside him, her legs tucked beneath her, her knees brushing his thighs, her hands in her lap mere inches away from his elbow. She’d missed him so much. She missed his smile and his laugh and his height and his humor and his heart. She’d missed all of him. She wanted to hold him close and never let go. She wanted to stay there forever, because the past nine months had been a living nightmare she never wanted to experience again.

She wouldn’t stop him if he wanted to run into danger now to help people. She would simply help him do that. She would be by his side, whether anyone else was or not.

She leaned her head on the couch, watching as he slipped away, and suddenly knew it wasn't his coma affecting her now. Because for months she’d agonized over his absence in her life, over the possibility that he might never wake up. When she was awake she convinced herself that was impossible, but at night the ‘what if’ haunted her. In the quiet moments when she was working at Jitters and it was slow, she’d slip into that place too. One of those times, her co-worker, Stacy, had taken notice of it.

“Barry?” she’d offered up knowingly.

Iris had blinked and looked at her, surprised and then confused.

“How many days has it been?” she asked gently.

Iris sighed. “Fourteen.” She scowled then. “Is that pathetic that I miss him this much? It’s been two weeks. People can stay in a coma for months, years. Families in pain for much longer than I’ve been, and yet here I am—”

“He’s your best friend, Iris,” she said, squeezing her arm gently. “It’s okay to be sad.”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

A few seconds passed, then Stacy cleared her throat and added, “Maybe he’s more than that.”

It had taken a while for Iris to digest what she was suggesting, but by the time she thought to question Stacy, a customer had arrived, and it had gotten busy. Once they were freed up enough to talk, Iris was too scared to remind her what she’d said. It had never been brought up again.

But it had stayed with her. It made her start to wonder. For years, for as long as she could remember really, her dad and Barry had been her constants. She’d dated, she’d had flings, but it had never been serious. She’d never needed a serious boyfriend, because she got all her non-familial fulfillment in Barry. And yet he was family in a way. He was the total package. She just never stopped to think that maybe he was everything she needed in other ways too.

She was able to bury the thought, because what bad timing was it to discover she maybe had romantic feelings for Barry when he was in a coma? What if she didn’t just have a secret crush? What if she was in love with him? What if she was in lust with him? What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he could never tell her he loved her back in that way? What if they never had sex?

That last one seemed to horrify her more than the others, mostly because the question had floated so easily into her mind when she hadn’t even considered it before or really wanted it – or had she?

She thought back to their adolescence, about the times when she’d passed down the hall and Barry’s room had been opened a little and she’d thought a lot about the fact that he’d stripped his shirt off to put on another, even if she’d only seen it out of the corner of her eye and never thought twice about it in the moment.

She remembered how jealous she’d gotten when he dated Becky Cooper, and how unbelievably satisfied she’d been when they broke up – especially because Barry wasn’t too upset about it.

She remembered the starstruck look in his eyes when she got dolled up for prom and took him as her date, and how he’d barely been able to form sentences for a good half of the night. She’d teased him about it endlessly, but secretly her stomach had been filled with butterflies. She told herself it was the endless compliments he dished out to her, making her feel beautiful when the guy she’d most recently had a crush on took someone else to prom. But she hadn’t thought about it.

She hadn’t really thought if any of this meant anything except her really loving him as her best friend.

Until Stacy said that; and until Barry walked into Jitters and her heart raced as she jumped into his arms, feeling like she was home again. Like she’d been wandering a cold, desolate wilderness ever since that fateful night, and now she was rescued.

There hadn’t been many quiet moments after that one, but right now with him almost asleep, the question beat inside her, the yearning to know – did she have feelings for Barry Allen?

She wanted to know. She had to know. But she didn’t want to ruin the amazing friendship they had when she’d just gotten it back if she didn’t really feel that way. Especially if he didn’t feel the same way. It was possible he did, but it was also possible he was sweet to her because he was a sweet guy in general.

No, she needed to test her theory before she broached the subject with him at all.

She searched her mind for something to prove this possibility – or not. When she landed on it, her heart nearly stopped. Her fingers tingled. She felt hot all over. She suspected that was a good sign, and almost convinced herself that was more than enough proof and she didn’t actually have to go through with it.

She licked her lips, debating, then decided she should. She needed to. She wanted to.

She wanted to kiss Barry Allen.

Just to see if there’s anything there! She insisted to herself.

But a skeptical mini Iris in her mind rolled her eyes, and muttered a “Sure, Iris.”

His breathing had evened out, suggesting he’d fallen asleep. His mouth wasn’t hanging open and his face was pressed against the couch toward her. Everything was set up perfectly so she could do what needed to be done then pull away and see if she felt anything.

So, slowly, cautiously, she shifted her positioning slightly, grabbed the back of the couch for support, and leaned in. She gulped, took a breath, then crossed that final distance, pressing her lips to his as he slept.

Instantly chills spread throughout her whole body. She felt as if she’d been lit on fire and was running, screaming through the night, dancing until dawn because wow, she felt incredible. And he hadn’t even kissed her back. He’d slept, and she felt that. How would she feel if-

But she lingered too long. By the time she opened her eyes, his eyes were open too. Groggy as he was, she could tell that wasn’t the only reason he was looking so confused.

“Iris?” he ventured, his voice raspy.

“I’m gonna go home,” she whispered back, her heart pounding. “It’s late.”

It took her a while to move away from him, but she didn’t make it off the couch before he grabbed her wrist, so she couldn’t get too far.

“Stay with me,” he requested.

She turned back to look at him, thought of all the reasons why now that probably wasn’t a good idea.

But she couldn’t deny him.

“Okay,” she said, allowing him to pull her into him so they could sleep together on the couch.

It took her a while to relax – and not just because his bed would’ve been far more comfortable than his couch. She was so aware of him now, aware of his body, of parts of it she wanted to touch, and things she wanted to say. And he was aware of none of it. It nearly drove her out of her mind.

Morning came though, and she had managed a few hours of sleep. She’d also decided that everything she realized she felt and the things she wanted to say to him should probably be forgotten. Her needing him in her life was far different from her testing out to see if they worked romantically. She needed him in her life. She didn’t need him as a romantic partner.

So, when he asked, confused and a little embarrassed as he did so, “Did we…kiss last night?” she believably chuckled – congratulating herself for that one.

“No,” she informed him, shaking her head so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye at first. “What made you think that?”

He shrugged, too embarrassed to make eye contact now too.

“Must’ve been a dream.”

“Weird dream,” she commented lightly.

“Yeah.”

Silence lingered, and she wondered if she should just tell him. But then he was called to a crime scene, and his powers unexpectedly spazzed out, and he called her in a panic because he didn’t know what to do. She found a reason to get off work, and then calmed him down. He was able to return to CCPD after that, and she was at his apartment by the time he wandered home.

She managed to cook him her macaroni and cheese specialty – the sole food she actually succeeded at making, and that she knew he absolutely loved. He hadn’t touched it, though. He was sinking into himself, testing out his speed as he remained stationary, half-worried he’d go haywire and fly out the window.

“Barry,” she said a few times, then tapped the rim of his bowl with the spoon sitting inside.

He shifted his gaze to her suddenly and stopped vibrating his hand.

“What?” he asked, accidentally vibrating his vocal chords instead.

Just barely, she stifled her giggle.

“Why don’t you eat something?” She glanced over at the bowl. “My special mac and cheese, for instance?”

He paled, then blushed. “Right. Sorry.” He speed-ate it, finishing before she could tell him to slow down. Seconds after he set the bowl back down, his stomach growled lightly.

She laughed when he frowned.

“I think that might have something to do with my speed.”

She snatched the bowl up and traveled the short distance to the stove, so she could refill it.

“Maybe you should ask your people at STAR Labs.”

She could feel his glare from across the room. It was still there when she set the bowl back down in front of him.

“Maybe not Dr. Wells, but…maybe the other two?”

She picked up the bowl and shoved it at him when he wouldn’t so much as move. Finally, he took it, and she sat down beside him.

“There’s just so much we don’t know about your speed, about what it means for you when it comes to everyday things. You saw what happened today. You screwed up a whole crime scene because you accidentally sped across it and through important evidence.”

He withered slightly, so she quickly wrapped her hand around his forearm.

“Which isn’t your fault,” she assured him. He nodded numbly. “I’m just saying that…you were at STAR Labs for the majority of the time you were in your coma, and because of their treatment you woke up. You don’t have to tell them you plan on being a hero. You could go in on the pretense of being studied. Deal with the rest later.”

“I’m a terrible liar,” he informed her, as if she didn’t already know.

She laughed. “I’ll help you through it.” His expression changed. “Trust me on this.” She gripped his shoulder to get his full attention. “It can’t possibly be worse than kissing me.”

The words tumbled out before she could stop them. It had the exact effect she’d feared it would. They were both absolutely silent, staring at each other, tense but unable to move. Finally, she looked away, released her grip on him and scooted away from him, not leaving the couch but not getting any closer.

She made no attempt to take back what she’d just said, more than anything because she wasn’t sure she could speak after that life-changing, relationship-changing moment.

“So, it wasn’t a dream,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but he was looking for an answer.

She could only bring herself to shake her head slightly. His gaze was impenetrable. She felt stuck and hot. She wished she could run out of there and erase time, make it so those words had never slipped passed her lips.

But she couldn’t do that.

“Why did you lie to me?” he asked, more confused than angry. Not angry at all even. Maybe she was angry with herself.

“I didn’t know how you felt,” she finally said, her eyes flitting up to his for a second. “And I didn’t want to ruin things between us.”

He frowned. “Ruin? How could you ruin…”

“If it was real,” she said. “If you…and I…if we tried…and it didn’t…” She sighed and looked up at him fully. “Your friendship means more to me than anything. If things got awkward…if we tried to change things and it didn’t work and we put up walls between each other, I just…I couldn’t…” Tears welled in her eyes. “I couldn’t handle that. That’s worse than you being in a coma.” She quickly wiped away her tears as they tumbled out of her eyes. “Besides,” she said casually. “The moment was awkward. It’s good you didn’t know it was real; intentional, I mean.”

He was silent for a long time, and she returned to the shared silence.

“What about now?” he asked quietly.

She looked back up at him, the reality of what he was asking slamming into her.

“It would be awkward now too,” she said quickly, pushing for that because it was better to be disappointed now in the short term than devastated in the long term later.

He looked dejected, and she felt bad about that, but… She couldn’t risk it.

Right?

Her brain short-circuited again, not granting permission to anything flowing freely from her mouth.

“But…”

A breath. One. Two. Three.

Then he’d crossed the short distance between them, bracing his hand on the arm of the couch behind her, invading her personal space, not hesitating for even a moment before covering his lips over hers.

Firecrackers, sparks, chills ripped through her again.

This was no lingering peck like what she had given him, though. His lips had closed over hers, but they were urging her to kiss him back, to part her lips, to let him in, to let them have this.

It felt like a century before her lips moved of their own accord, opening for him, and slanting across his. Her eyes closed completely as he continued to kiss her, a quiet moan escaping her when he shifted beside her and cupped her face with one hand, sinking his fingers into her hair.

Her hand moved of its own accord, to his waist, his chest, his face. Not once in her whole life had she loved threading her fingers through his hair as much as she did right now.

And when his hand moved down her body to settle on her hip and then squeezed, she broke away, because wow, they were moving fast. A very big part of her wanted to move even faster, but the common sense in her told her they needed to talk.

“Wait-wait-wait.” She braced her hand on his chest and felt his pounding heartbeat beneath her palm.

“Too fast?” he rasped.

She locked her eyes on his. “A little.”

“S-sorry.” He looked away shyly for a bit. “I’ve just…wanted to do that for…a very long time.”

Her eyes widened. “You have?”

He nodded.

“You mean…” She licked her lips. “You like me? Like that, I mean. Like, you really like me. As more than friends.”

His laugh that slipped out was full of amusement.

“I’ve liked you as more than friends since the moment I met you, Iris.”

He looked like he wanted to say something more, to add to what he’d just said, but he held back. She wondered if maybe she didn’t want to hear what he had almost said, maybe she wasn’t ready for it.

“Oh.”

He smiled a little, and she melted.

“I…I just realized…yesterday, when you were in a coma…” She paused to take a breath. “I really don’t want to ruin what we have, Barry,” she said, desperate to get that point across.

“I know,” he said, cupping her face again. “I don’t either.”

“Well then-”

He kissed her again, lingering a little before kissing her quickly once more and pulling back to look into her eyes.

“I want to be with you, Iris.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Do you want to be with me, too?”

Not thinking, she nodded in response.

“Then be with me,” he said.

She sighed softly and smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him towards her – to which he went very willingly.

She kissed him. The single flick of his tongue against hers drove her wild even in her satiated state, sending a zip running down her spine. He tasted incredible.

The after-effect buzz on her lips from the pressure of their kiss thrilled her, making her toes curl but her body immovable.

“Okay,” she said, and kissed him again.

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#westallen #fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #candice patton #iris west #istandwithcandicepatton #girls inc fundraiser perk #canon divergent

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rowdy-revenant · 6 years

Text

The Beauty of a Beast - part 5

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Becky Rosen (briefly), Y/N Singer, Gabriel, Castiel, Balthazar, Chuck, Jack, Charlie, Crowley - future pairing of Gabriel x reader

Words: 1500+

Beta-reader: @nobodys-baby-now

Warnings: Bi!Dean (if you consider that a warning), arguing

Chapter summary: Sam tries to cheer up his rejected brother. Planning dinner doesn’t work out very well at the castle.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[General masterlist] [Gabriel masterlist]

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youtube

Part 5 - Taverns and Tea

Business at the Roadhouse tavern was like it always was; busy. Dean Winchester sat in his usual fur covered chair, facing the fireplace. His brother brought another round of drinks for the both of them and set them on a table before Dean.

Dean downed another pint. “What’s the point.” He muttered. “I keep pursuing Y/N and every time they shoot me down.”

“So maybe stop pursuing them?” Sam offered.

The older Winchester glared at his brother.

“Look, Dean, it’s not the end of the world. You can get any girl- or guy, for that matter- in town you want!”

“Yeah, but I don’t want anyone else!” Dean huffed. The hunter was too stubborn to let the one that got away go.

“Dean, please. Come on, Benny Lafitte’s single, right?” Sam said.

“I’m not dating someone taller than me.” Dean grumbled.

“What about Jo Harvelle?” Sam offered.

“Talks too much.” Dean scoffed.

“Gadreel? The librarian?”

“He’s a nerd.”

“Becky Rosen?”

“More like clingy.”

“Garth Fitzgerald’s a nice guy.”

“He’s always too happy.”

“Rowena?”

“You’re joking. Why can’t Y/N just like me?” Dean whined.

Sam sighed. “Don’t put yourself down like this, Dean.”

“If I’m not good enough for them, I’m not good enough at all.” Dean concluded, turning his green eyes to the ground and pouting like a child.

Sam sat next to Dean. He looked up at the mantle and the wall behind it. Countless animal heads decorated the tavern but this section? This was all the Winchesters’. Scratch that, it was all Dean’s. All Sam did during hunts was chase the prey for Dean to wear it out before his brother got the final shot, and all the credit. Sam always felt proud of his brother, though there was always a hint of jealousy.

“Everyone here wishes they were you. Your skills, your good looks…” Sam would add ‘your brains’ but his brother wasn’t exactly the sharpest arrow in the quiver. “Your reputation…” He added. “Everybody in town either wants to be with you or to be you.”

Dean just grunted as a reply.

“Tell me again how you got that one.” Sam said, pointing to the stuffed head of a bear.

A faint smile crept across Dean’s face. “Took me three whole days. I sprained my ankle in the process, but still managed to catch it.”

A couple people grouped around Dean as he told the tale.

“It got caught in a trap I had laid out by the river, so I caught up to it and BANG!” Dean shouted. “Killed it in one shot.”

Becky, a blonde who was arguably Dean’s biggest fan clapped as he finished the story. Dean gestured for her to come closer, so she did, sitting on the arm of the armchair, leaning towards her crush.

“Oh Dean,” Becky sighed. “You’re sooo manly.”

The elder brother grinned and flexed. “I work out, you know. I bet I could lift Sam.”

“Really?” She gasped.

Sam grimaced. “Please don’t. We’ll take your word for it.”

Dean laughed. “Scared I’m right, Sammy?”

Dean went on telling hunting stories about his prowess. He was skilled, that was true, but his ego and stubbornness often got him in trouble, so Sam was the one who had to pull him out of it. Of course, the favour was never returned.

Sam was always there for his brother. He supported him and helped him with hunts or picking up flings. The thing was, he didn’t have the courage to get in Dean’s way when things got out of hand.

If Sam had Dean’s courage, or Dean had Sam’s intellect, things would probably turn out different for the brothers.

A loud knock at your door woke you. You sat up and yawned, surprised for a second by the unfamiliar surroundings. You weren’t home, you remembered.

Your room in this castle had to be the size of your house in the village. The four poster bed was soft and big. The walls were painted elegantly, rather than plain brick. Everything was so much bigger, so much more expensive. Not to mention the wardrobe was alive too.

There was another knock. “Dinner. Now. Join me.” The Beast growled from outside.

“Ask nicely.” Castiel chided.

“And smile!” Balthazar added.

The Beast bared his fangs in what vaguely resembled a smile.

Balthazar winced. “We’ll work on that.”

“Now ask again,” Chuck said. “Nicely.”

The Beast huffed and faced the door again. “Would you join me for dinner?” He asked in a softer, but still demanding voice.

You wanted to scream. “Join you? You treat me like garbage and you want me to eat dinner with you?!” You yelled.

The feathers of the Beast wings bristled, and his chest rose and fell heavily as his breathing quickened.

The servants picked up quickly on his anger. Castiel was the first to try and calm him down. “Easy now-”

The Beast raised his fist and slammed it against the door. “YOU WILL JOIN ME FOR DINNER AND THAT’S NOT A REQUEST!” He roared.

“NO!” You yelled back, twisting the lock on the door handle and dragging a chair in front of it. You didn’t want to see his ugly face again if you could help it.

“Fine!” The Beast sneered. “GO AHEAD AND STARVE! If you don’t eat with me, you don’t eat at all!”

“Fine!” You replied.

The Beast turned and stormed off down the hall, slashing a wall in anger as he went.

Balthazar looked at his friends. “Staff meeting.”

Balthazar stood on the round table, tapping his arm against a glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Hello, everyone.” Balthazar started. “Well, everyone who could be here.”

“I can tell dad!” A teacup piped up.

“Hush, Jack. Later.” Castiel replied.

“So, we have a guest. Someone from the village named Y/N.” Balthazar continued. “As you know, we don’t have a lot of time left. If things work out, Y/N could be the one. We’ll all return to normal.”

“That’s a great plan and all, but what if it doesn’t work?” Charlie, a former maid turned cardinal-shaped feather-duster asked.

“We have to try.” Chuck said.

The group murmured in agreement.

“So, the master has forbidden Y/N to eat dinner with him after his temper tantrum. Of course, we can’t have that.” Balthazar retold. “Gabriel will be asleep in his quarters soon enough. We’ll make a second dinner.”

“Castiel, Jack, bring some tea upstairs for our guest. Tell Y/N and Crowley of the plan. Charlie, tell Lucifer to wait in the dining room. The rest of us will cook and set up.” Chuck gave the orders.

Cas nodded as best as a teapot could nod. “Come along, Jack.”

Jack skipped across the table to join his uncle. “Charlie, tell dad I say hi!”

Charlie smiled. “Will do, kiddo.”

“So, can I ask why you’re a wardrobe?” You inquired.

Crowley hummed, thinking. “Suppose the one who cursed us had a sense of humour. I was a tailor.”

“Huh. Interesting.” You replied.

“And you?” Crowley asked. “What do you do?”

“I help- or helped my father with his work.” You explained. “He makes things like clocks and music boxes.”

A tap at the door ended your quiet conversation.

Your voice wavered as you spoke. “Go away.”

“It’s Castiel.” Was the muffled reply.

“The master doesn’t knock that softly.” Crowley chuckled. “Let him in.”

You moved the chair away from your door and unlocked it. When you opened the door, a trolley with a tea set was before you.

“You must be Castiel.” You said, wheeling the cart in.

“I am.” The teapot replied. “This,” He gestured to the teacup beside him “Is Jack.”

“Nice to meet you!” The little cup replied, its painted face grinning. He sounded young. You felt pity for this poor kid. He was probably the only one of his age in this palace.

You smiled. “Nice to meet you too.”

“We’re making you something to eat.” Castiel said.

You frowned. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to eat.”

“What the great big lummock doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Crowley huffed. “You need to eat, love.”

“You’re not afraid of him?”

The room fell silent.

“No,” Castiel finally spoke. “He has outbursts but he’ll never hurt anyone.”

“I think the person who fears him most is himself.” Crowley mused. “Are you afraid?”

“No,” You replied. “He doesn’t scare me. He’s big and he’s cruel, but there’s… something about him. Like an animal lashing out in pain…”

You fell quiet. Could this beast have any emotion apart from anger? Why would these cursed people stand up for him? How did this happen?

~ Murdoch’s tag list - want to be added or removed? Send me an ask! ~

All fics: @a-r-c-h-a-n-g-e-l @ashiewesker @ashtheironbat @authoressskr @baritonechick @blessedbebucky @crowleysprincess159 @cynda-kiwi @d4rzill4 @fayepummeluff @feelmyroarrrr @gabriels-depressed-angel @hunters-hiraeth @impatient-witch @kristaparadowski @lenawiinchester @like-gabriel-and-castiel @madelineannmolder @negansgrimes @oldpaperfan @sdavid09 @shrimpdrake @sumara62 @tangle-of-ivy @team-barry @thehowling1234 @thewhiterabbit42 @treitike @tenderlybeautifulbarbarian @tyrex15 @unsink-the-titanic

All Supernatural: @gabriels-trix

Gabriel: @elven-leaf @hiddles-and-skittles @hp-hogwartsexpress @im-gabriels-bitch @jannalionheart @elenawrit @trollhunter94

The Beauty of a Beast: @a-michellerae-things @a-vast-african-plain @clockworkmorningglory @red-bandana-girl@icharleecongrevemultifandomsblog @person-born-winchester@sumara62

#gabriel x reader #the beauty of a beast #beast!gabriel #reader insert #dean winchester #sam winchester #becky rosen #gabriel #castiel #balthazar #chuck shurley #jack kline #charlie bradbury #crowley

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haberdashing · 6 years

Text

By Any Other Name

Gravity Falls Avarice AU fic. Stan meets several reincarnations of his loved ones, all of which share one memorable trait.

on AO3

also on ff.net (no link because filters)

“So anyway, what’s your name, kid?”

The teenage boy in front of Stan was positively glowing, both metaphorically and literally, though the latter was only visible to the magically sensitive. Stan, of course, could see the vibrant pulsing colors clear as day, a reminder of an incident several lifetimes ago, of a soul forever altered by Stan’s actions.

(A reminder of power that burned not only its victims but its all-too-eager user, of a lifeforce whittled away slowly but surely with every use, of how she passed on far too soon and left behind two who had to spend long years without the one who shone brightest of them all- of how it was all his fault, in the end, because he was the one who gave her that power in the first place, he was the one who should have known better...)

“My name is Andrew, Andrew Alcatraz!”

Andrew Alcatraz... Why did that sound so-

And suddenly he remembered the name, remembered it being shouted at him many times over- inside a limo with tinted windows, in any number of poorly-lit alleyways, from the other side of iron bars... Stan could feel himself tense up instinctively before realizing that he wasn’t back there, not really. His prison days were long gone, lost even to living memory save for his own, and not a prison in the world could hold him now. The grimy streets that presently surrounded him were in Tijuana, not Colombia. This was the universe playing yet another cruel joke on him, nothing more.

“Why’re you giving me that look?”

The words slipped out before he thought them through. “Has anyone ever called you 8-Ball?”

“No, why? Should they? That sounds kinda cool, actually-”

“No!” As young Andrew’s eyes widened, Stan softened his tone. “Or, uh, maybe, I guess, no skin off my back either way- wait, do you even know what an 8-ball is?”

The long silence that followed would have been answer enough, but when Andrew squeaked out “...those things you shake and they tell your future?”, Stan let out a long sigh.

“Kid, the day you beat me at a game of pool is the day you get to use that name- and not a day sooner, got it?”

(Stan would learn to regret his phrasing three years, four months, and twenty-one days later, when Andrew refused to give up the nickname he had rightfully won.)

If Stan had had to guess which traits of his great-nephew would be passed along to his reincarnations, “wanting to be on television” would have been far, far down on the list.

And yet here he was, watching Steve on television (or... it had some other name now, something that sounded like it was taken from an old science fiction book- holoscreen? holobox?- but it was similar enough to television that Stan still thought of it as such), one of the lead actors in the newest reboot of Poltergeist Botherers.

Steve kept looking over at Stan as the episode played on, his expression toeing the line between nervousness and excitement, and Stan kept staring back at Steve, distracted by a strong sense of deja vu.

It wasn’t just the expression that was the same, or the soul behind it, either. A number of generations had passed, but he could still see it in the curl of his hair, the chestnut brown color of his eyes...

An old Pines soul in a new Pines body. It wasn’t often that the two coincided.

Though, truth be told, it wasn’t exactly a Pines body.

Not anymore, at least. Steve had been born with the surname Pines, had grown up with it, had used it for everything up until he realized his passion for acting and decided that his surname needed to be tweaked to better appeal to casting directors. Stan still called him Pines, though, when he mentioned Steve’s last name at all. It wasn’t that he forgot about Steve changing his name- he could never forget that- but that he preferred not to think of the memories that other name brought up.

The credits finally rolled, and Steve paused the television (or... whatever they called it these days) as it displayed the name STEVE PININGTON in large, blocky print.

“What did you think?” Steve’s eyes were wide, his hands fidgeting as he carefully watched Stan’s expression.

Stan coughed, though he hadn’t needed to cough for centuries, just to buy himself a moment in which to think before responding.

“Well, it’s not really my kind of thing...”

The smile on Steve’s face started to shrink.

“But you did a good job in it all the same.”

The smile on Steve’s face returned, and Stan matched it with one of his own as he playfully ruffled the hair of his... great-great-great-great-great-grand-nephew? Was that the right number of greats? Probably not, but hell, who cares, they were close and that’s what mattered, not the number of links separating them in the family tree.

“Nice work, kid.”

Stan was no stranger to prison cells by any means. He’d seen more than his fair share of them as a human, and as a demon he’d been called to a surprisingly large amount of makeshift summonings made by prisoners who figured they had nothing left to lose, who thought that nothing a demon could do to them could be worse than their current predicament. (An incorrect assumption, as it happened, but one Stan was generally willing to humor so long as it served his purposes.)

But it was rare that Stan entered a prison cell of his own free will.

Then again, the prisoner in this cell was no ordinary prisoner. Ordinary prisoners were locked up to protect others from them rather than the other way around. Ordinary prisoners didn’t have multiple hits out on them. Ordinary prisoners were either going to serve their time or be freed, not be stuck in some strange combination of the two.

And, of course, ordinary prisoners didn’t have souls with a spot on Stan’s family circle.

“I hear they’ve finally figured out what they’ll call me after the move to Milwaukee.”

Stan raised an eyebrow as he looked back at the scrawny, bespectacled man before him. He really didn’t look like the sort of guy who’d bring down half a town’s mob on his own- but then, looks could be deceiving.

“Oh yeah? Some nerd finally threw a dart at a baby name book for you?”

“I think a computer does it, actually.”

Stan waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Close enough. So? What’s it gonna be?”

“Stetson Pinefield.”

The name hung in the air for only a moment before the man soon to be known as Stetson added, “I know, a bit contrived, isn’t it?”

Stan managed to summon up a grin before responding. “Yeah, you could say that.”

The two of them were alone in the field, Stan floating under the branches of a tree while the human- who had short scraggly brown hair and thick glasses and kept scribbling things down in a notebook and really, all they needed was slightly worse fashion sense and the resemblance would be uncanny- had their back pressed against the tree’s rough bark.

“I need to pick a name already and be done with it,” they said.

Stan didn’t respond, unsure if the statement was directed towards him specifically or whether they were just thinking out loud.

“I mean, you can’t just call me ‘kid’ forever, right?”

Stan flashed the kid a grin. “Wanna bet?”

They threw a pen in Stan’s general direction, and both of them watched as the pen passed through Stan’s arm and fell onto the grass.

Stan watched as they wrote down one name in their notebook, then crossed that off and wrote another, which was in turn crossed off as well.

“You gonna change your last name, too?”

“No, my parents were good people, I owe that much to them. And besides, I’m having enough trouble thinking of a first name...” They rubbed one hand against their temple, their other hand tightly clutching their pen. “Nothing feels right, though. I mean, I want it to be leaning towards male, I think, but not- not too male, because I’m not male, not really, and- this doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

Stan considered his words for a moment before he spoke. “Well, I’m not gonna lie and tell you I totally get it, because I don’t- but I believe you, and I want to support you, and if that means figuring out a name that’s male-but-not-male I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

They sighed, writing another name down in the book and scratching it off after only a few seconds’ consideration.

“And hey, if it helps, I’ve had conversations that made way less sense than this.”

“I’m sure you have.” There wasn’t much levity in their tone, but Stan thought he spied the beginnings of a grin on their face.

A short silence fell, the only sound coming from the tree branches swaying in the wind and pen scratching against paper, before they spoke up again. “Actually, if you have any suggestions, I’d love to hear them. I don’t seem to be getting very far on my own here.”

It was then that Stan realized.

When he had first met the child that had then introduced themself to him as Becky Forrester, Stan had asked about relatives, friends, crushes, even baby names, waiting for the penny in the air to drop, for the universe to get on with it already, but nobody had had the name he was looking for.

(He had, however, managed to convince them not to name any future children Hephaestus or Mnemosyne, so that time hadn’t been entirely wasted.)

But now he knew what the universe had been waiting for. Now Stan knew what he had to do.

He tried to make the suggestion sound casual. “Well, er, how about the name Hal?”

“Hal, huh?” They wrote the name down in their notebook, pen hovering over the word as they spoke. “Hal Forrester... has a nice ring to it...” Pen hit paper once more, but this time the name was circled, not crossed off. “You know, I actually really like that.”

Stan tried to suppress a smirk as he muttered, “Of course you do.”

#gravity falls #avarice au #gf au #gravity falls au #gf fic #my writing #personal

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atamascolily · 6 years

Text

I've been reading a lot of Star Wars fic on A03 recently, and I discovered I have certain favorite subgenres. Here are a few of them, along with some fic recommendations in each category.

Subgenre: The Skywalkers Are Eldritch Horrors

-wonderterror, by peradi - Quite possibly my favorite Star Wars fic EVER. Well-written, zinging delightfully between humor and horror, with the best sex scene I've found yet in this fandom (SFW, too). Also: the premise really explains so much about the Skywalkers that canon leaves kinda vague. Brilliant! -Luke Skywalker, 19, Full Human, by samvelg - Similar premise as the above, but goes in a drastically different direction with emotional heart-to-hearts as Han tries to figure out WTF is so different about Luke and Leia and the implications for the galaxy.

Subgenre: Naive Luke Meets Water and Trees Fluff

Because watching a farmboy from a desert planet discover there's more to life is just... adoreable. And frequently hilarious. (Frequent overlaps with Post-Battle of Yavin Angst.)

-Green, by sparklight - Luke meets trees. Han is amused. -Blue, by sparklight - Luke meets water, shares a moment of grief with Leia. -Neither Is It Tears, by NikkiAgent - Luke meets rain, and Leia and Han get to share his joy. -Rain, by starlingjedi - Luke meets rain. Han and Leia have a moment. -Puddle Jumping, by justanorthernlight - What the title says. -Ice Water, by Joysweeper - Luke's awkward and not used to ice water being served at restaurants. -Snowball's Chance on Hoth, by Sholio - Luke meets snow. -you can take the boy out of the desert, by Iorata. -More Luke water moments on Yavin.

Subgenre: Post-Battle of Yavin Angst and Other Shenanigans

-Hope is Bright Beautiful Thing, by Imaginary_Bomb - Luke and Leia hurt/comfort -Bravery, by gardnerhill - Medals don't mean to Han what they mean to Luke. -Homecoming, by Thistlerose - Luke and Leia grieve after the Battle of Yavin. -The Truth About Tatooine, by bethagain - A delightful subversion in which Luke is not as innocent and naive about life as everyone around him automatically assumes. -In Starships and Cups of Coffe, by Iorata - Han's birthday celebrations, or lack thereof. -Planning Session, by Guardian_of_Hope - The plan to rescue Han is put together... with the help of alcohol.

Subgenre: Han/Leia Hurt/Comfort

-shatter those cold bones, by philthestone -Soothing by MissRachelThalberg - Hurt/Comfort from the aftermath of Jabba's palace. Probably the most realistic post-Jabba fic I've seen thus far. -Pointy Things, by madame_alexandra - Leia has a phobia of needles after the Death star torture. Han is here to help.

Subgenre: Owen and Beru's Life on Tatooine/Obi-wan in Exile/Young!Luke fics/Luke's Pre-canon Life on Tatooine

I love, love, love this subgenre and all its various permutations to bits. Thank goodness there's a lot of fic for this. Also, Owen/Beru, Beru/Obi-wan and every possible variation of Owen/Beru/Obi-wan were the fic pairings I didn't know I needed, but I do.

-A Good Woman, by leavinghope - Beru's take on events. -A Look Within, by iamfitzwilliamdarcy - It isn't easy being Owen Lars. -Dawn of Hope, by alexcat - Luke Skywalker's Childhood. -Family, by mosymoseys - Beru comes to terms with not having another child. -1:30, by ambiguously - Luke/Biggs fic, featuring an epic fly-through of Beggar's Canyon. -Flasback, by Elizabeth (anghraine) - The real reason why Owen refused to let Luke go to the Imperial Academy. -for when my chin is on the ground (i pick myself up), by Phosphorescent - Obi-wan gets adopted by a bantha. Hilarity ensues. -Kin, by mabel - Luke learns about family on Tatooine. -Madonna Under the Suns, by Vongchild - Beru deals with Owen, Luke and her complicated relationship with Obi-wan. -One Hundred Credits, by jedicallie (writergirlie) - Luke is injured in a farm accident, Owen is angry, Beru tells Luke about his grandmother -our shining hour, by rain_sleet_snow - Luke and Biggs have a fling and Obi-wan, Owen and Beru reflect on the implications. An Owen/Beru/Ben fic where Owen and Ben don't hate each other, wow! -Salvage, by celeste9 - Luke rescues droids and his guardians aren't sure what to think. -say hello, say hi, by ninemoons42 - Young!Luke meets Obi-wan with Beru's supervision. -Seas of Sand, by esper_aroon - Obi-wan exile angst. -Somewhere It Hides a Well, by dieplainlife - Obi-wan's watching out for Luke and keeping him out of trouble. -Split the Shroud by Desipio - Child-rearing, Tatooine-style. -The Boy from the Stars, by Lefaym -The Hermit's Son, by landsail0r - AU where Obi-wan raises Luke -The Last Cup by Acacieae -Truth, by ambiguously -what are we living for by Elizabeth (anghraine) -What I'm Afraid Of, by Beatrice_otter

Subgenre: Prequel-Era Character Studies

-a clean break, by wrennette - Obi-wan returns to Coruscant after a mission to discover that a treasured gift from Qui-Gon has... transformed. just leave me your stardust to remember you by, by stonefreak - Disney Princess Obi-wan Kenobi and all of the implications. -on the other side, by esama - Obi-wan goes into the AgriCorps, but still has to deal with Quin-Gon's Padawan.

Subgenre: Leia and Winter Friendship Fic

Okay, so Winter is a minor character from the EU/Legends canon - Leia's adopted sister/best friend on Alderaan who was off-planet when the Death Star destroyed it. She serves as Leia's aide and occasional decoy in New Republic books. She had long white hair and people frequently mistake her for Leia on account of her posture and bearing. Winter is great and more people should write fics with her in them.

-Astronomical Odds, by anonymous - Leia meets Winter again before the Battle of Endor. -Still Here, by WinterSky101 - Han passes on a message that Leia is very happy to get.

Subgenre: Luke in Exile (Disney Canon)

I usually try to avoid the Disney canon, but apparently I'm a sucker for good angsty!Luke fics.

-Between Two Thieves, by Walutahanga - In the aftermath of the slaughter at the Jedi school, a character from the EU/Legends canon makes an offer of assistance to Luke. AWESOME ON SO MANY LEVELS. -Understanding, by ambiguously - Luke is grieving and a mess of self-pity. Obi-wan is having none of it. -Water, Water Everywhere (The Albatross Remix), by theladyscribe - Luke's past history with water means he responds to Rey's gesture at the end of TFA very differently than in canon.

Subgenre: Angsty/Grieving Luke

-Halfway Real, by Acacieae - Luke grieves for Owen and Beru, Obi-wan offers some comfort. -Holographic Blue, by sparklight - Luke stumbles across old wedding holos that Artoo still has in his data banks. -Homecoming, by Joysweeper - Luke grieves for Owen and Beru. -Only Forgotten, by treenahasthaal - Before going into Jabba's palace, Luke reflects on his early life on Tatooine. -Someplace You've Never Been Before, by jessebee - Luke grieves for Biggs and his old life. Han/Luke. -The Insolence of Office, by ATMachine - Luke has one regret about the Jabba's palace rescue. -Understanding Owen, by BeckyS -contradictory, by catbeans - Luke muses on the light/dark distinction. -for a hundred miles through the desert - wreckageofstars - Han has to go rescue Luke when Luke fucks up. Lots of angst.

Subgenre: Sedoretu

-Smugglers Make the Worst Matchmakers, by dreamiflame - An OT4 that solves every shipping problem in the entire Star Wars fandom. Talon Karrde approves. -The Invisible Corners, by Walutahanga - Padme is engaged, but Naboo marriage customs are such that that may not be an impediment to her relationship with Anakin. LOVE IT!

Miscellaneous:

-A Little Control, by Joysweeper - Or, why Luke is so good at getting out of handcuffs. Surprisingly SFW. -Always a Third Wheel, by wingsyouburn - Even in the New Republic era, Luke's still pretty good at ignoring hints from Han and Leia. -Homecoming, by GryfoTheGreat - Luke, Leia and Han fic, post-ROTJ/early New Republic. -It's Just Cake, by JediMordsith - A reconstruction of a famous Alderaanian desert gets the gang into a lot of trouble... Bonus: Luke/Mara. Fluffy as all get out. -Speak and Be Heard by ambiguously - Oola lives and the gang takes her with them when they leave Tatooine after the Jabba's palace rescue. -canis, by peradi - ANH AU where Vader realizes Leia is his daughter... and decides to rebel against the Empire in his own way. AMAZING.

There’s so much Star Wars fic out there that this is only the tip of the iceberg... but these are my favorites at the moment.

Happy reading!

#star wars #fanfiction #fanfic recommendation

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rowaelin-herondale · 7 years

Text

All This Time - An Elriel Fic - Chapter 4

Summary: Slow burn Elriel fic taking place two years after the defeat of Hybern. Elain decides to reject her mating bond to Lucien, only to find that what she had been looking for was in front of her all along. Chapters 1. 2. 3. AO3 link. A/N: A little over a year ago, I told my friend Becky (@rsrosenberg) to pick up a SJM book. This past month, she finished reading ACOWAR and Empire of Storms, completing her read of every published SJM book to date. This chapter is for you, my dear, for giving me someone to fangirl over the Night Court with every day of the week.

———————————

He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it, on the light that surrounded her. But it came to him then, swift and fierce and perfectly obvious. She was moonlight. ******

Azriel’s first thought was he needed to take several steps back from Elain. It went against everything he felt, every instinct he had, to take those three steps back. But he knew if he didn’t, Lucien could act before Elain said a single word. Fighting the anger that burned deep within, Azriel gripped the top of his blade, still in the holder on his hip, and took those steps away from her. She turned to face Lucien fully, standing tall. Only moments ago she was panicking, but there was no hint of that fear now as she looked at her mate. Her strength made Azriel want to kneel at her feet.

Without taking her eyes off Lucien, she said, “Azriel, you can leave.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he responded reflexively. He didn’t even realize he had spoken aloud until Lucien turned his stare towards him.

“You will,” Elain said, her gaze still focused on Lucien. “I’ll be okay.”

“Elain,” Lucien began, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Azriel was just leaving. We were discussing how best to sell some of my herbs and spices.” Azriel still hadn’t moved, so she finally turned her eyes towards him. From her look alone he knew that whatever happened next, she would be okay. In every circumstance this life had thrown at her, she’d proven to be stronger than anyone gave her credit for. She’d had her mortality stripped from her, a fiance she loved had broken her heart, a mate thrust upon her instantly, the gift (or curse, depending on how you looked at it) of being a seer, the death of her father, slaying the King…and yet, she’d only faltered briefly in those days after being turned. But not since.

So he did it. He went against every instinct, every muscle screaming at him not to move. And he left her standing there with her mate. Alone. Because she asked him to.

Within moments of setting foot outside Elain’s residence, he took to the skies to head towards the House of Wind, to let Rhys and Feyre know what happened. He feared Feyre would be angry with him, but he knew he had to leave her. Had he stayed, it would have done more harm than good.

Rhys was waiting for him on the balcony. Every aspect of their plan, every protection they had put in place, was unraveling before Azriel’s eyes. He couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“What happened? Why aren’t you still there?” Rhys said immediately upon seeing Azriel land. Feyre, thankfully, was elsewhere.

“Elain and I….Lucien came….” Azriel knew Rhys had never seen him so flustered. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen himself so flustered, even when it came to Mor. He would die for Mor, for any of them, but there was something about Elain that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It wasn’t just that he would sacrifice his life for hers, it was more than that. He would do anything she asked him, anything at all, without hesitation. Even if it meant putting herself in danger. He’d let her do it, only because she asked.

Azriel filled Rhys in quickly, his cobalt siphons glowing as he spoke.

“Shit,” Rhys muttered. “There’s no one in the house to protect her if this goes wrong. Which it probably will. I need to get Cassian back from the Day Court as soon as possible.” Cassian had been sent there to tell Helion what Elain was planning to do, in case they needed him to interfere.

Azriel nodded. “I know it seems bad…but I have this feeling that she’s going to be okay.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I know...but I do.” Azriel didn’t know why he was so sure.

“Go back to her roof, just in case.”

******

Elain led Lucien to the garden out back, sitting down on the gray and cracked cement bench next to him. Before Lucien arrived, she’d been unsure she was making the right decision. Mostly out of fear. But the moment she’d seen him, any ounce of doubt vanished. She realized she hadn’t missed him. Not his smile or his laugh or the warmth of his arms around her. She’d missed the idea of him - that she had this predestined mate who loved her unconditionally, no matter what. But that’s not really what her and Lucien had.

She sensed his nerves beside her, as he cracked his knuckles and fidgeted with his fingers. A few weeds had sprung up beside the bench and Elain bent over to pull them out. She held them between her fingers. Lucien reached over and gently took one from her.

“There are never weeds here.” He said, rolling the stem between his fingers. “You’re not one to neglect the garden, even a little.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” she replied, dropping the remaining few stems into the grass in front of her. She’d grab them later.

When she didn’t continue, Lucien said, “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to guess?” He was smiling, trying to make light of the situation. Through the bond, he must have sensed that whatever she had to say was serious.

The speech she practiced in front of the mirror was useless now. She knew it would come out sounding rehearsed and she respected Lucien too much to break his heart with practiced words. The crumpled piece of paper in her pocket lay untouched.

She looked at him. “I need you to let me get through this, to not interrupt me, however badly you may want to.” He nodded, and she began. “When you came into my life two years ago, I didn’t know what to make of the situation. Of anything. You weren’t there those first few weeks after - I didn’t know what was happening to my mind. I didn’t understand it, not until Azr - not until they figured out that what I was seeing were glimpses into the future. I was so emotionally confused for most of the battles with the King, between losing my mortality and my fiance and this life I had planned out for myself....and then being given this ability to see, I didn’t know what to make of any of it. And then I lost my father and the battle ended and you were there.”

She paused to look at him, to memorize the lines of his face, his one russet eye and the other golden. His red hair was blowing slightly in the breeze, the pointed tips of his ears visible. She resisted the urge to tuck the stray hands behind his ears as she had done so many times, instead lacing her own fingers together in her lap in front of her.

“Lucien, you were a gift I never deserved. You gave me the space to grieve, but also let it be known that as my mate, you were there for me. I don’t know if I ever voiced how much that all meant. And while we were getting to know each other, learning to be what the other needs and desires...six months ago, I had this vision. You had just learned you were Helion’s heir, and you’d raced off to the Day Court to deal with the repercussions and what it all meant. I was tending to the flowers when it came to me, this glimpse into the future. And in it, you weren’t beside me, not as my mate.”

At this, Lucien’s demeanor changed. He shifted from being gentle and concerned to alert. He faced her fully as she continued.

“You were in clothes from the Day Court and you just seemed so...happy. Happier than you’d ever been here. It’s all night and darkness and shadows here. You were always flames and light. There you were, finally where you belonged. And I, I was still here...still in the Night Court, wearing a navy gown and tending to the flowers among the shadows in the garden. We were happier apart, Lucien.”

He was silent as he processed what she told him, and she turned her gaze towards the house, not able to bare to look at him. She could have sworn she saw shadows on the roof.

“Is what you’re saying....are you saying, that you don’t want to be mates? You don’t want to accept the bond?” She’d never given him food, which was the customary tradition when one was accepting the mating bond. He’d never pressured her to, never even brought it up. Never asked when she thought she would be ready. But now, in this moment, she could see that he thought it was coming. Instead, she was shattering his heart.

“Yes,” and she heard her own heart break. “I don’t think we should accept the bond.”

A few flames escaped his hand, aimed not at Elain, but at her flowers. He didn’t say anything before winnowing away.

Feyre appeared immediately, pulling Elain into a tight hug. Nesta arrived a minute later, yanking Elain from Feyre’s arms into her own.

“Did he hurt you?” Nesta asked.

Elain shook her head. “Only a few of the black dahlias and purple calla lilies,” which Lucien knew were her favorite. She had a soft spot for dark flowers.

“Did he say anything? Did he agree to it?” Nesta asked, pulling Elain from the hug and looking at her face.

“He didn’t say anything before he winnowed away.” He didn’t need to. She could feel him raging down the bond, which hadn’t been properly buried yet. She knew there were unspoken words between them, that they would have to speak again before it was done. But for now, he needed space. And she needed quiet.

“Can you find Azriel?” Elain asked Feyre. Nesta was still analyzing her movements, as if waiting for her to break down at any moment. Feyre gave Nesta a look that Elain didn’t miss before she turned to the roof.

“You can come down from there, Az.”

Nesta and Feyre suddenly found they had elsewhere to be.

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked, seconds after landing on the grass.

“No,” she replied, a few tears escaping down her cheek. “I’m not.” He didn’t say anything as he reached his hand out to wipe away her tears.

“Were you on the roof the whole time?” Azriel nodded. “He could have spotted you, or scented you. He could have hurt you.”

“Not as much as he could have hurt you. He didn’t know I was there, I promise.”

She nodded, turning around to stare at the charred hole in her garden. She remembered the weeds from earlier, walking over to the front of the bench to pick them up. Azriel watched her, remaining silent. She threw them into the middle of the ashes. The garden could use more imperfections.

“I think he thought I was going to tell him that I was ready to accept the bond...and instead, I destroyed him. And in turn, it feels like I destroyed a piece of me.” She didn’t know why talking to Azriel was so much easier than her sisters, but it was. His shadows soothed her nerves as more tears escaped. She sat down on the bench, Azriel standing awkwardly nearby. His wings were folded in tight behind him and his siphons muted.

Azriel, who rarely seemed uncomfortable, knelt down in front of Elain, his knees in the grass and dirt, as she sat on the bench. Gently, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell any of us about the vision?”

“Because telling you meant it was true, and I wasn’t ready to accept it. But I am now.” More tears. Cauldron, why couldn’t she stop crying?

“Do you want me to leave?” He asked after a pregnant silence. She didn’t. In the days after she was made immortal, Azriel’s silent presence had saved her. At the time, she didn’t realize what a calming force he had been, the light breeze after a brutal storm.

“No...I just need to sit here. To accept what I’ve done. You don't have to leave, but I understand if there's somewhere else you need to be.”

For the rest of the day and night they sat in silence in the garden, staring at the weeds.

Chapter 5.

#elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #acowar #acowar fics #fanfiction #ff #acotar fanfiction #azriel #elain archeron #acomaf #acomaf fanfiction #sarah j mass #sjm #sarah maas #please reblog or reply if you liked this chapter #thank you <3 #*

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queen-of-deans-booty · 7 years

Text

Skin- Part 3

Eventual Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,056 (6,098 words in total)

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Please, if you want to be tagged for this series, let me know and I’ll add you! If you want to be tagged for my other fics, I’ll add you! I want to hear what you guys think about this.

This isn’t part of the episode but read this backstory!

Smoking pot with Dean

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

Part One, Part Two

You groaned and opened your eyes to see you tied up by the wrists that were behind your back. You cracked your neck and looked around, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness. You tried getting out of the ropes and after a few minutes of struggling, you did. Thinking you were alone, you peeked around the corner but saw Dean tied to a chair and you talking to him.

Shit, the shapeshifter must have gotten something from you in order to look like you. You kept hidden and watched as they talked.

“Where’s Sam and Y/N?” You heard Dean ask.

“I wouldn’t worry about them. I’d worry about you.” You heard yourself speak. Were you always speaking that squeaky? You made a mental note to change that.

“Where are they?” He asked again.

“You don’t really wanna know. I swear, the more I learn about you and your family… I thought I came from a bad background. Even her family, did you know she was perfectly fine up until she met you and your brother?” The shapeshifter smirked.

“What do you mean, learn?” Dean asked. You wanted to know too. You watched as the shapeshifter grabbed its head and grimaced. It stayed like that before chuckling.

“You think she cares about you? All she wants is to find the demon that killed her mom and once that happens, she’s gone. She's just hitching a ride from you because she can’t hunt on her own.” Your mouth opened not from shock of the lie the shapeshifter just told but the truth behind it. You were like that once but that was way back when. You were different now.

“Where are they?’ Dean refused to believe fake you.

“The only reason she’s helping you find your dad because John can get the job done. She looks up to you, tries to be just like you so she can leave once she’s ready. I bet you didn’t even know that she likes you. She likes a lot of people. But I mean, this life? Come on, you meet a lot of nice people. Like Becky. I bet if Y/N went down there, she can get Becky to do the unthinkable. Let’s see what happens.” Fake you put a sheet over Dean’s head and left the sewers. You ran out when it was safe and ran to him, taking the blanket off.

“Dean, I’m so sorry.” You looked at him.

“Shit, sweetheart, you need to ice that bruise.” He chuckled, relieved to see the real you. Your cheek was becoming black and blue from how hard the shapeshifter hit you. You got him untied and you looked at him with worry.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you?” He asked back.

“Sam is still out but he’s fine. He’s back there.” You sighed and rubbed your wrists where the shifter tied you up.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He shed his jacket and put it over your shoulders. That thing was long on John so it was long on Dean which meant it was a blanket on you. The shifter took your clothes so you were only wearing an undershirt and panties.

“Thanks.” You put the jacket on. You and Dean went to get Sam but he stopped you.

“What about those things that the shifter said. Are they true?”

“Dean, I’d rather not talk about that right now. We have more pressing matters to deal with. Ask me again after this is all over.” You sighed and left for Sam who was waking up.

“Sam, the shifter went to Becky’s house. We need to help her.” At the mention on Becky’s name, Sam shot up and he nodded.

“Okay, let’s go.” You and Dean helped Sam up and made your way out of the building you were in. The shifter decided to put you in a building rather than the sewers but you didn’t care.

“Come on. We gotta find a phone, call the police.” Sam said.

“Aw man, you’re going to put an APB out on me?” You sighed but knew it had to be done. Better you than Dean or Sam.

“Sorry.” Sam shrugged.

“This way.” You and the boys started running down the street. You didn’t care of the stares you got, just being in a big jacket with no shoes on and with two men but you kept running. You were passing by a TV store when you saw the TV’s in the windows started playing.

“Guys, guys, look.” You watched as the news reporter was talking about you and Becky.

“An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white female, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home.” You sighed when you saw a picture of you on the screen.

“I’m toast!” you began to get frustrated.

“No you’re not. You’re with us and you won’t get hurt or taken away by police officers.” Dean said, wrapping an arm around you.

“Come on.” Sam took you and Dean down a deserted alleyway and you sighed.

“They said attempted murder.” Sam tried to make the situation less uncomfortable.

“I know. But poor Becky, I can’t even imagine how she’s feeling or what she’s thinking. I mean, I’m not that much larger than she is. How could someone like me take down and do that much damage to someone like her? She seemed pretty strong and looked like she knew how to take care of herself.” You sighed, walking with the boys.

“Maybe because it’s a supernatural creature, it already adds more strength to it.” Sam shrugged.

“Yeah, maybe.” You sighed.

“We need to catch him but we have no weapons.” Dean sighed.

“Your car is still probably at Rebecca’s house. The police did say it left on foot.” You looked at the boys.

“Come on, let’s go.” Sam nodded, walking in the direction of Becky’s house. You walked over to her house and smiled when you saw the Impala still there.

“Oh, there she is! Finally, something went right tonight.” Dean smiled, relieved. You gasped when police cars parked next to Dean’s car.

“Shit!” You sighed. You turned back around to see more on the other end.

“Go, Y/N, get out of here. I’ll hold them off.” Sam spoke up.

“No, I will.” Dean argued.

“Guys, not now. They can’t hold either one of you because you weren’t involved. I need someone to come with me. I can’t be out here, all alone.” You looked at Dean for help.

“Sam, go, I’ll take Y/N.” You and Dean rushed to the gate and he helped you climb over it. Dean followed and he saw Sam raise his hands and walk to the police officers. You ran with Dean and you tried not to think how shitty this was. You couldn’t do this at night so you and Dean waited until the morning to go back to the car. Most likely, they had Sam in questioning but you didn’t know. You managed to get clothes of your own on and handed Dean his jacket back.

“Dean, I’m sorry.” You sighed, looking at him. He stopped inches from his car and he looked at you.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. It wasn’t fair to you.” Dean shook his head.

“No, I’m sorry for what you heard. There was a time that I thought about leaving, about being on my own. But that was when I was a kid. I hated what happened to my mom and learning from you or John was the best way to go.” You sighed sadly. Dean opened his trunk and opened the weapons case. You were surprised the police didn’t search and find the weapons.

“Do you want to leave now?” Dean loaded some guns up.

“No, I could never leave you now. You and Sam, even John, are family to me. I don’t turn away from family. At least not anymore.” You sighed.

“Then we’re okay.” He handed you a gun and you grabbed it, putting it behind your jeans. He closed his trunk and walked with you to one of the sewers’ entrances and let you go down first. You raised your gun up and walked down the tunnels, ready to end this but frowned when you came across a room with candles and chains. You saw a figure covered with a sheet and took it off, gasping when you saw it Rebecca. When she opened her eyes, she started freaking out at the sight of you.

“Hey, Rebecca, it’s okay.” Dean untied her and she tried to get away from you.

“Get her away from me!” She yelled.

“No! Rebecca, that wasn’t Y/N! It was the shapeshifter! It was a shapeshifter that killed your brother’s girlfriend too!” Dean calmed her down and you bit your lip.

“Rebecca, I wouldn’t do that. Especially when you’re Sam’s friend.” You sighed, looking at the ground.

“What happened?” Dean asked her.

“I was walking home, and everything just went white. Someone hit me over the head, and I wound up here just in time to see that thing turn into me. I don’t know, how is that even possible?” She cried, looking at you and then at Dean.

“It does that but we got to go, Sam is at your house, talking to you right now.” Dean helped her up and got out of the sewers. You walked to the Impala that Dean drove here and you sighed. You grabbed your gun that you had with you and aimed it as you carefully walked up to the house. You didn't know what to expect. When you heard Sam’s grunt, you rushed inside but not before Dean did. You gasped when you saw Sam being strangled to death by Dean. You knew it wasn’t Dean.

The shifter got off Sam and stared at his body double but he wasn’t too fast because Dean shot him twice in the heart. Rebecca ran to Sam and crouched down, holding his head in her lap while you were with Dean. You looked at the dead shifter and saw he was wearing Dean’s necklace. You took it off him and handed it to Dean with a soft smile.

You got up with Dean and nodded to Sam, deciding it would be best if they got alone time. The shifter was dead, and it was time to go somewhere else. You walked outside with Dean and walked to the Impala. Dean took out a map but you needed to talk first.

“Dean, I never told you what I wanted to tell you before.” You sighed softly.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I know but I need to. Days before my mom died, I got visions, nightmares, even, about my mom’s death. I saw it happening as if it was real. But I didn’t think much of it until it actually happened. When it did, I couldn’t stop staring at my mom. I knew about it and I didn’t tell her or stopped her.” You looked down. Dean reached over and touched your good cheek and lifted your eyes to his.

“You didn’t kill her. Even if you did tell her, she wouldn’t have believed an 8-year-old. That was not your fault.”

“Mary sure thought it was.” You nodded.

“Yeah, well, Mary is a dick and she’s dead so I wouldn’t listen to her.” You smiled softly but out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Sam walk over to you.

“So, what about your friend, Zack?” Dean asked.

“Cops are blaming this Y/N Y/L/N girl for Emily’s murder. They found the murder weapon in the girl’s lair, Zack’s clothes stained with her blood. Now they’re thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with. Yeah, Becca says Zack will be released soon.” Sam explained. You rolled your eyes and Dean got in the car.

“I better not get arrested, Samuel Winchester. Otherwise you’ve got hell to pay.” You got in the backseat and Sam got shotgun, Dean taking off out of this town. This may have got to be the craziest hunt you’ve been on but you were glad that Rebecca and Zack were safe.

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mulder-isms · 7 years

Text

Everything Now - Thorcid fanfic

A\N: After a long night of hookin’…and after a long block it’s finally here. This fic was inspired by oh so many things, but mostly the Arcade fire new song, Thorgy’s birthday cakes, and my own block. The angst is strong on this one.

I don’t know if I’m happy with the result, but it’s out and that’s what matters. Send me love notes or wake-up calls like girl, stop. I welcome interventions.

Jamin felt the pull of coming back to reality. His sister’s fingers were gently pressing his forearm, her voice echoing in distance. He was dreaming about hybrid sea animals, the ones that lived in the depths of the ocean, maybe ruling Atlantis in their most majestic form.

“Jay?”

Her voice was muffled and bubbly.

“Wake up…it’s time to go”

The voice was getting closer as she repeated the command, and when it reached the highest pitch he opened his eyes, sucking a deep breath. The detergent smell in the corridor filled quickly his lungs, the white walls were blinding. He was probably the only teenager hanging around in the wing of the hospital this late hour. He fell asleep on the bench waiting for his sister. His mother condition was still the same.

He wiped off some dry drool from his left cheek and tried taming his messy blonde curls. He had slept on some of his drawings, and he picked them up and stuffed in his backpack. He noticed the paint stains on his shirt and grimaced frustrated. If Becky wasn’t so tired she would have argued with him. But she just heavy sighed and tilted her head as a let’s go sign.

Jamin continued walking by her side staring at his shoes along the hall.

“You’re running out of clean shirts this week to go to school” she patted on her brother’s shoulder as they were almost reaching the elevator. He just nodded in silence feeling guilty. “But never run out of your beautiful art” she reassured him side hugging the defeated kid.

The same way Shane would make Jamin watch the most suspicious so-called art films, he made Shane watch all his favorite 80’s classics. One day he found out the outrageous information that Shane has never seen any of The never-ending story movies. Jamin cancelled everything he had to do and immediately scheduled a movie night.

Jamin knew Shane was having mixed feeling about the cancellation of the Well Strung tour, that things didn’t quite work the way he wanted, and how sensitive he was about the constant frustration of not getting his projects done. But there was a selfish side of him that appreciated the fact he wasn’t going out on tour, and he could have his boyfriend all for himself. With season still 9 happening, the attention was focused in the new girls. They were staying in New York most of the time and could finally settle in to a more normal pace in their relationship.

He didn’t know Ally was staying the weekend in Shane’s apartment, but they were used to each other. The 7-year-old girl had a blunt honesty that Jamin found quite relatable. They needed food supplies for the night, so they went to a sort of pricey grocery store a bit far from Jamin’s neighborhood. Ally was holding Shane’s hand while he was guiding the trolley glancing at the shelves. From time to time they would stop and check the price and Shane would complain turning his back to Jamin and he’d just nod in agreement while Ally sneakily added more items in the trolley. As he observed them both walking in front of him the scene felt sweetly mundane.

“We were supposed to just get popcorn and some candy bars, not food for the whole month” he called out resting his chin on Shane’s shoulder, sticking his hands inside the pockets of Shane’s coat, their bodies brushing slightly. Shane that was checking a huge pickles jar didn’t even move.

“You’re right!” Shane put back the jar on the shelf and turned to face him patting on his chest then catching Ally in the act putting three cereal boxes in the trolley. “Focus Ally!”

She stopped midway and let go a defeated sign, putting just one box. They continued heading to the cashier and Shane’s hand reached Jamin’s, like in unconscious reflex and they continued walking. The place was from Jamin’s neighborhood. The chances of finding familiar faces were very little and he frankly didn’t care.

When they got to the cashier Ally was excited putting all the unnecessary items they ended up taking. Shane noticed one bouquet of different types of artificial flowers.

“Wai-wai-wait, Ally, what’s with the plastic flowers?” he stopped her chuckling.

“Decorations for the dinner table today” she replied as if it was the most obvious answer. Shane and Jamin exchanged looks. She seemed a young lady with a purpose.

“Well, they do match your colored raw noodles” Jamin pointed out. Shane shook his head letting the cashier lady pass the bouquet in the register machine. She was in her late forties and was amused by the whole scene.

Ally was blonde and had huge blue eyes and a colorful sense of fashion. The woman analyzed Jamin and Ally again, as if she was searching for similarities.

“You two have a cute kid” she added after the last item was out.

Jamin felt a quick swirl in his stomach but laughed nervous along with Shane, yet neither of them corrected her. Jamin could swear he saw Shane’s mouth opening to contest. He reached for his hand again while they watched Ally in front of them running with two plastic bags and twirling.

Ally wasn’t interested in The never-ending story at all.

Shane had a salad because he’s been trying to lose some weight, but Jamin made meat pancakes for them anyways. After dinner they were in the living room, watching the movie on the couch. Half hour running and she was sleeping on the armchair by the couch’s side. Shane had the opposite reaction, he was completely focused in the movie, gently caressing the stuffed Falcor figure Jamin had.

The whole time he seemed anxious with the psychological symbolisms of the 80’s fantasy gem. The scene now was the heart-wrenching death of the horse Artaix in the Swamp of Sadness. As Atreyu desperately pulled leash to save his companion Shane squeezed Falcor harder.

“He is not going to die, right? This is a kids movie!” he asked tapping on Jamin’s thigh. Artaix continued sinking in the swamp and Shane carved his fingers in Jamin’s knee looking at the screen mouth open in complete shock.

When Jamin watched it first with Beckie they were kids. Sebastian’s way of dealing with his mother’s death somehow echoed on them. Shane’s eyes were watery and he let go of the fabric of Jamin’s shorts gradually.

“Oh god, you’re really crying?” Jamin asked surprised leaning to check his face closer.

Shane was quiet as a tear rolled down on his cheek.

“I’m glad Ally is not watching this terrible and evil movie” he sobbed taking off his glasses to sweep a tear away with his forearm.

“Thoorg….” he sympathized bringing him to rest on his chest so he could rock him. His meltdown was completely adorable. He kissed the top of his head as Shane continued sniffing.

“This is completely fucked up…” his voice came out trembling and he hugged Falcor harder. “I’m done. I can’t with this movie anymore. Let’s watch Willow again” he turned to face Jamin, their faces inches closer.

“I never thought you would actually take this movie so seriously…I’m so surprised” he continued looking down at Shane’s red eyes. Then he turned to rest his head on Jamin’s chest again.

They continued in silence for minutes, Jamin stroking the hairs of Shane’s arms distractedly. He was feeling the slumber taking over even with Shane’s weight over him.

“You know…I’ve feared Nothing my whole life, I mean, as artists, isn’t this what we fear the most? The lack of imagination. We exist because we imagine”

Shane’s musings brought him back. He completely dozed out because the credits were on the screen. He must have been out for half an hour. Shane sitting straight fumbling for the remote control. Jamin continued in the same position, legs on the coffee table but now he could cross his arms over his chest. It was chilly without Shane’s heat next to him.

“It’s funny that you’re saying this, because when I was a kid…it was my constant fear, that one day I would just stop making art, that it would just fade away while I was sleeping. That’s why I like to-

“…draw during breakfast” Shane finished his sentence. Jamin nodded in acknowledge. Then Shane picked up some of his morning sketches that were on the coffee and softly smiled looking at them. One it was just outline of Shane’s arm, he recognized because of the blue bubbles that looked exactly like his tattoo.

“Still here” he reassured him and leaned for a quick kiss, but Jamin cupped his face for Shane to slow down and take his time. Ally was still sleeping in the armchair across the couch. Shane slowly started trailing down from Jamin’s neck to his chest, their tongues touched shyly to not make any noises, just to bring water for their dry mouths. Jamin pulled Shane by the waist, but Jamin feel him pulling back. No straddling. A growling stomach started to complain loud and cut the steamy mood.

Shane widened his eyes laughing inside Jamin’s mouth. “I’m so hungry!” Shane pouted while Jamin rubbed his stomach trailing hazily his jaw, planting small kisses.

“Stop with this crazy diet” Jamin demanded planting one last kiss on the tip of his nose.

Shane has gained some extra pounds but Jamin didn’t mind at all, especially with the way his ass looked in pajamas pants. His belly was rounder but the extra weight was well distributed in his long figure.

Shane deep sighed peering at the tray still half filled with meat pancakes.

“Fuck it! Bring the damn tray”

He stood up leaving Shane with Falcor. As he fetched the pancakes putting on a plate he observed Shane squeezing his ears and caressing the long tail. He looked like a kid in love with the toy he wanted for Christmas. He turned his attention to the table, the vase with the plastic flowers decorating the center. Ally was right, he realized softly chuckling that it did bring life to the dinner.

The three of them sitting for dinner at home, with a lovely decoration in a Saturday night. Could he take this picture further in the future? Somehow it was frozen in time.

He joined Shane in the couch and he started eating the pancakes moaning at each bite. He was checking his messages as Jamin’s eyes were locked at him, but his mind far away. He kept eating the pancakes in a roll with bare hands while the cheese inside kept falling. The musician had the most beautiful hands, and he was the only person Jamin knew that could rock worn out black nail polish.

Shane suddenly stopped going through his phone and tapped repeatedly on Jamin’s knee in urgency, “Oh shit! it’s almost 1 am and my cousin is picking me up tomorrow! Remember? I told you that I’m playing in my great-uncle 90 birthday’s party? He is coming from Norway and I haven’t practiced the whole week. Fuck!”

Jamin nodded raising his brows. He knew it. And he knew his boyfriend would forget.

“You must leave early. There’s nothing Thorgy here” Jamin recalled while chewing calmly. Shane grabbed his thigh.

“You have to wake me up. I’m going to tuck Ally into bed, then I’m going to practice in your studio. You HAVE to wake me up, I’m serious, bitch” he ordered pointing as his index finger was pointing at his chest. Jamin rolled his eyes scoffing.

“Thorg, I always do! But you sleep again every goddamn time. It’s so annoying. Besides, I have shit to do too so I’ll leave earlier than you. Are you sure you want to practice the violin now?”

“What are you talking about, it’s the best hour to practice. And in my defense, I don’t go back to sleep every time, at least not when we have sex. We need to fuck first thing in the morning. Set the alarm for 5 am. I don’t want a quickie” he commented as if he was ordering breakfast and continued browsing his phone. Jamin was shaking his head the whole time. “What? Ugh, you’re probably the only person in the universe that doesn’t like morning sex”

“Well, first, I’m not just a dildo you can hump on the minute you want. It’s not how it works” he pretended to be outraged and took another bite in his pancake roll, “And second I do like morning sex. But I hate mornings, so my energy is kinda…off. I prefer to let my mornings for black coffee, scrambled eggs and silent hate”

Shane was not buying at all.

“You are…” Shane searched in his memories, tilting his head. “rougher in the morning. I like it” he bit his lip and gave a little shimmy eyeing Jamin’s pajamas shorts. “And you wake up with the most amazing hard on always”

“It’s a physiological reaction, it’s not because I’m horny” he defended himself putting a pillow on his crotch. “Don’t brag yourself” he dished him but this whole conversation was in fact making him horny. The last time they had sex in the morning they left marks on the wall because of the headboard banging, Shane’s dreads entwined his fingers as he pulled them back like a leash…Fuck. He was getting turned on with the memory. But he wasn’t going to give in. He cleared his throat and held the poker face.

“Hey, I’ll take it…” Shane continued pretending to be humble, dropping his voice to a sultrier tone. Then he caressed Jamin’s knee distractedly, scrubbing off an invisible lint of his shorts. “Waking up with your morning wood rubbing on my leg it’s the best way to start the day…” his eyes traveled around Jamin’s body until their eyes met and he opened a mischievous smile. “But fine, I guess I can just set the loudest alarm clock…”

“Shane?”

Ally’s voice echoed waking up. Shit. They both panicked with the possibility that she was listening to the conversation the whole time.

Shane stood up, fixing the crotch area of his pants that curled after so much time sitting and Jamin observed him. He felt his cock twitching and he winced annoyed. It had a mind of its own, especially with the vision of Shane in those worn out pajamas. Shane noticed him pressing the pillow harder on his lap.

“Come on, let’s go to bed” Shane helped her getting up.

She was very sleepy rubbing her eyes.

“Is the movie over? We can watch now…” she drowsy yawned as Shane took her hand.

“Take Falcor with you. He doesn’t like to sleep off my bed” Jamin offered the flying dragon figure that was almost Ally’s size and she took it.

“Stay with us a bit… he will miss you, he’s not used to me and Shane” she offered Jamin a hand. Shane threw him an apologetic look of leaving him blue balls like that.

“You two go first, I just need to clean up the mess in the kitchen”

“What’s a morning wood?” she asked rubbing her left eye.

They eyed each other in panic, but Jamin was the one to give an explanation.

“Trees! They usually grow bigger in the morning. Because the…sun exposition and…

“Photosynthesis!” Shane added leading Ally to the bedroom pushing her back. She just shrugged satisfied with the answer. “You’re probably studying this when you grow up…”

Shane looked over his shoulder at Jamin that had his hand covering his mouth resisting the urge to burst into laughter.

The TV was on and Ally was sleeping in the middle of them, cradled on Shane’s chest. He was almost falling asleep. Jamin couldn’t shake it off the question that was haunting him the whole night. Shane’s birthday was coming and an invisible tick started in his chest. They were together, in their own way for a year. The last time he had a relationship this long it ended tragically, and he wondered if there’s was something to wreck coming soon. Shane counted on him to be strong, to set the pieces of his scattered mind in order but he often felt unsure of being whole himself.

He was turning forty this year.

Acid Betty was timeless, but Jamin surely was aging. In some level, their drag persona shielded them to think about the ordinary world. As creatures of the night, the pleasures of daylight seemed like a beautiful story in a book: a wedding. A big white house in the suburbs with kids running around. Growing old together. They were never able to see the big picture hiding in the spotlight.

He didn’t even know if Shane wanted any of these things, or even if they made sense for him. He was a child of an unconventional home, but Shane had all these things growing up.

Would he even know what to do?

Don’t wake up, Jamin. Don’t wake up. If you wake up it’s gone.

He peered at Shane by his side almost falling asleep. They belonged in the night, but Shane’s light kept getting brighter…

“Do you think about having kids?”

The question was out before he even trying to stop. Shane chuckled looking down at Ally nested on his chest.

“I knew the cashier comment was going to be a subject at some point…”

Jamin was still curious, but holding the cool exterior, waiting for his answer.

“I don’t know…I’m so focused on myself all the time. It would be nice to change obsessions…I’m terrified and amazed with the possibility, I guess?” he concluded giving a shoulder shrug, fighting the urge to gesticulate too much since Ally was there.

Jamin pondered a bit looking down at Ally peacefully sleeping.

“I don’t know if I would be a good father” he confessed, the hurt in the words weighting on his chest. Saying it aloud was worst. Whoever said that voicing things was the best thing to do was terribly wrong.

They were both avoiding the actual root of the conversation, the frozen picture, them as family.

“You would be a GREAT, father” Shane reassured him completely positive of his answer. Jamin frowned in disbelief but didn’t say anything. They kept staring at the TV for a few seconds sinking the information. Jamin tried hard to see them in this beautiful painting, but nothing, just an empty canvas.

“Do you see us…you know, getting married?” Shane asked hesitating and laughing softly to not sound too interested in the answer.

Jamin never thought for a minute Shane was ever going to ask that. It took him completely out of guard. The picture wasn’t there. He was literally in bed with his favorite person in the whole world. This wonderful, beautiful man, woman, clown. He wanted to be everyday by his side, even if it was too much, and he was trying constantly to not let him pour and gone to waist, because every bit of Shane mattered.

And yet it wasn’t there.

He could feel Shane’s anxiety growing by the minute. He opened his mouth locking his gaze at Shane’s stare but he didn’t answer. He could see the half smile of Shane’s face withering. He wasn’t going to lie. Shane would know, but the more he tried to see the picture, the more it blurred.

“Shane, I- I..” he stuttered and Shane laughed nervously. “I have no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, I don’t know I-

Shane couldn’t keep quiet anymore and just interrupted him abruptly “I’m just messing with you, girl. We better sleep, Ally is getting restless here…” he replied still avoiding his eyes and turning off the TV. Jamin took a few seconds to acknowledge his biggest fuck up and then got out of bed slowly, his heart heavy.

“What I’m trying to say is that I find it hard to see the future, not only about us, but about everything. I always lived so stuck in the present and the past I-

The more he tried to explain the more the tension was growing as Shane was pulling the covers over him and Ally.

“Jamin, look, it’s fine…we bothered Ally all night” he answered almost in a whisper, his eyes still not finding shore at Jamin’s.

This wasn’t the answer he wanted to give at all. He wanted to say that he never thought he could be this happy, here, now. He loves Shane. So much it blurs his rational thinking. It gives him hope about a future he never thought he could have because he lost so much.

“Can you turn off the light?” Shane asked closing his eyes and bringing Ally closer to his chest.

Jamin turned off the light and shut the door behind him and slid his back until sitting on the floor.

“Fuck!” he cursed in a frustrated whisper leaning his head on the door closing his eyes.

He didn’t want to fall asleep.

When Jamin woke up in the couch everything was still there. His sketches remained on the coffee table. His body was still very much awake when he headed to the bedroom. It wasn’t even 7 am, but Shane and Ally were up. She was dressed to go with her backpack on and holding Falcor sitting on the edge of the bed.

Shane was ready to go picking up his things from the dresser.

“Good morning, kid. Did you sleep alright?” he asked Ally that was grumpy quiet. Shane just acknowledged his presence but continued picking up his things and making sure nothing was messy. This was never a good sign.

“Falcor is a good cuddler, his ears are warm. Shane snorts too much, but not as loud as mom” she sleepily pointed out.

“I do not. I have allergies!” Shane defended himself and Jamin laughed at him but he didn’t respond to the peace offer.

Everything was set and Shane put his brown leather bag on the shoulder, the violin case on the other. Then he put his dreads up in a big bun and looked around the place. Jamin loved to observe his nape on this hairdo, how his long neck made a perfect line with his jaw.

“I’m staying in my folks for my birthday” he warned him with no further information. Five days.

Ally and Jamin exchanged looks. He told her about the birthday surprise. Taking Shane to a small trip to the beach.

“But- Ally opened her mouth and stopped when Jamin cut her before she blew their undercover.

“I thought you’re were staying in New York?” he asked confused crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Yeah, my dad has this nasty cold and with my great-uncle here, I need to help them”

Shane was lying. This was classic Shane trying to shut him off. Ally put Falcor on the bed and looked and both suspicious, shitting her gaze between the two.

“You guys are acting weird.”

Shane held her hand and they walked out of the room with no goodbyes. Jamin got off their way, Shane’s perfume still lingering in the air. Jamin knew he fucked up.

At the door Ally hugged Jamin while Shane observed tapping his feet on the floor and checking his phone. They weren’t late at all. But he wanted to get out of there. Jamin grabbed his fist before he vanished in thin air.

“Text me when you get there, okay?”

Shane just nodded and they left. Jamin knew his answer was awful but Shane’s behavior of not speaking what he was really feeling and this passive chaos inside of him made him furious. It was getting late and he needed to start his day. Maybe with things to do he would make sense this mess they were in.

The silence of the next two days was deafening. Shane being quiet was the worst thing it could happen, but Jamin was feeling tired. He didn’t have the energy to talk to Alvy or any of Shane’s closest friends to find guidance to get to him. It wasn’t the first time. Maybe they needed this distance so Jamin could see the picture and Shane realize that he never meant to hurt him. But how could he ever explain what he wanted if he kept ignoring him?

Jamin’s phone rang. He was sleeping and maybe it was part of the dream, but it was getting loud. He woke up scared, his heart beating fast and his throat getting dry. It was a number that he couldn’t identify.

“Hello?” he answered in short breath.

The voice wasn’t familiar. It was somber, the person on the other line was sounded like a woman still weeping, it echoed something from the past.

Jamin knew love by the maybe late age of eighteen years old. He was a British kid that used to paint drawings inspired by The Cure songs. His name was Frederick. They had an intense relationship but Fred was constantly moving countries because his father was a diplomat.

The last time Jamin heard about the ginger boy that became a man, he was married with two adopted kids and led a happy life in Florida as a literature professor.

Until cancer took him away two days ago.

The funeral was beautiful. Fred was suffering in the final stage so his husband was somehow prepared to never be prepared. Death changes everything. It makes you experience nothing is ever certain. Feel it in every fiber of your bone the fleeting weight of time.

Jamin knew many familiar faces. Some of his high school friends flew for the funeral. Fred was deeply loved.

Shane was born the day his first love died.

“You should stop drinking, we have a flight to catch in few hours”

Beckie warned her brother. They were at a local bar with some of the people that were in the funeral. Being surrounded with so many people from his past made Jamin realize how much he missed his present. His now. His future.

He tried to call Shane many times but he didn’t answer the phone.

“It’s ridiculous. I…I- how can I even explain what I mean if he doesn’t even speak to me?” he pulled his tie loose. It was one of the few occasions he was wearing a suit.

Becky was sitting on the stool next to him having drinks too, looking tired and half drunk.

“You’re dating Thorgy Thor, you know she’s gonna be extra even in the silent treatment” she scoffed.

“I’m…I’m over it. I’m too old for this, you know? Fred…he had everything and he’s dead. Like, nothing makes sense? I’m still on the way, and yet I feel defeated”

Becky observed her brother getting into Bitter Betty mode as he turned now another tequila shot.

“Nah…you’re not over it. You never are, Jay.”

He looked and his sister and find some comforting in her drunk few words.

“I want to marry that idiot. I just can’t believe it” he admitted defeated. Beckie laughed side hugging her brother.

“Bitch, these cakes are awful. This is like street corner bakery at the end of the day in its finest”

Bob cackled as he took another bite of the frost that was melting. They were at Shane’s apartment after his birthday party with the Brooklyn girls. Bob couldn’t go but he managed to drop by to give him a hug, and Shane knew Jamin already had told him what’s going on between their undefined status.

They were at the kitchen’s table, Bob still with full make-up on but wearing Chris clothes.

“You know, you’re like the gay fairy godmother of my relationship with Acid” Shane replied fingering the cake and eating a good amount.

Bob widened his eyes and opened his arms.

“Yes! Oh my god I’m Whitney Houston in that black-wash Cinderella movie with Brandy, I can’t”

They both laughed screamed and Bob felt satisfied of making Shane laughing. Until it was fading away and Shane got melancholic again.

“You guys broke up. Again. Are you guys never not breaking up?”

“We didn’t break up. And technicality we only broke up once. We are just…I have no idea what the fuck is going on to be honest” Shane replied defeated forking his cake. “I- I just feel like I’m not a person, you know what I mean?”

Bob nodded repeatedly and Shane laughed.

“I’m an idea. It has been always like this. All my relationships. Guys sleep with me because I’m crazy, because I’m heartless. They know they can leave, because I’m not someone they can see a future with. I think I was just shocked, because I never imagined that Jamin couldn’t see it too….”

Shane kept fumbling the fork. His eyes weren’t even watery. He was just utterly numb. Bob’s was quiet because he was feeling sorry for his friend. He was the one to never take Shane seriously and always point out how crazy Thorgy is.

“Look Shane” he grabbed his friend arm, “Jamin is not of these fucking assholes okay. He sees you as person. And he loves you, completely, which I will always find it weird and courageous because you are….trigger alert, crazy”

Shane giggled and slapped his arm and he gave his classic raspy cackle.

“He’s just old. He probably is afraid of marriage because when he was born there was only arranged ones!”

“Look, it’s not that I want to get married tomorrow okay. I just wanted the answer. Plain and simple. I wanted simple, just for once. You know what I mean?”

Bob nodded.

“But as your fairy godmother I must remind you: when two extra bitches like you two get together there will always be drama, honey! But I do, I do get what you mean. But the first step to simple is you know, talking to your boyfriend again?”

After Bob left Shane read all Jamin’s messages again. He was sitting on the couch staring at them gathering the courage to call him. But there was something still pulling him back. He was going to do it tomorrow. It was too late. He knew Jamin was in town but who knows if he was even awake.

Shane fell asleep on the couch holding his phone. In his dream, nothing had changed. The never-ending story was still happening, and he was the only one that could write it.

When he woke up everything was still there. Shane was used to collect people’s phobia and the last days after the fight he kept the habit of drawing in breakfast too. The place was awfully quite with Alvy out of town.

He was quickly sketching on the kitchen’s table when Jamin showed up. First he though he was a vision, the studded black jacket on but a full week stubble covering his face. He had a white box from a pastry shop on his hands.

“I don’t know if you read your messages but I was in a funeral. The day of your birthday. My first boyfriend passed away. It was a sort of enlighten moment.”

Shane stood up quickly picking his phone from the table and his drawings fell on the floor “Sorry, I’ve read them tod-

Jamin noticed that he was drawing in the morning. Just like he does.

“I want to marry you. I don’t know when it’s going to happen or even if I’m cut for it but I want to be with you every day. Now. I still don’t know about the future, but I can give you now. And you deserve to know this. I’m sorry that I couldn’t say it properly at that night and you should be sorry for not letting me say it after”

“I am sorry” he reassured him, his voice trembling. But Shane’s eyes wrinkled with the sweet smile he opened. “My dad says that I take silent treatment as a silent penalty” and Jamin finally laughed. He was relieved that he could still disarm him easily. “Is this a wedding ring?” Shane asked brushing off his emotional exterior crossing arms in front of his chest.

“A wedding donut is a better and sweeter promise?” he offered approaching the table that still had leftovers cake from the last night.

Shane retrieved the box out of his hands and grabbed his face for a deep kiss. Jamin’s whole body ran with electricity, as if his power was restored after a long blackout. His hands traveled under Shane’s shirt caressing his back dimples and Shane pushed him against the fridge.

“You ruined my birthday surprise” he whispered disconnecting the kiss briefly taking off Shane’s shirt as Shane worked rubbing his bulge over the jeans.

“The whole month is mine birthday…” Shane replied dropping to his knees and looking up with a mischievous smile.

“I can see that” he scoffed noticing the two cakes on the table before letting a soft moan when Shane pulled his pants down.

The picture was finally in focus.

They were in a sunny beach, the sparkling water almost blinding, the salty smell of the ocean mixed with sunscreen. Shane holding a Bloody Mary and his shoulder full of tan freckles.

#thorgy thor #acid betty #thorcid #rpdr fanfiction #rpdr fanfic

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