Thanks everyone for joining us, either by sharing your stuff or simply by visiting!
It’s been a wonderful week, so much beyond our expectations… The fandom’s been angry and disappointed with the way our ship has been treated in canon but once again we proved the power of fandom.
We had some amazing fanfiction, beautiful fanart and such creative photosets this week, so thank you to every single Brittana shipper who refuses to give up on these two!
Remember, there’s always hope…
(Another round of barks and howls for the amazing Muriel. Thank you!)
(Written for Brittana Week - Free Day, but a couple days late. Also works for Mothers’ Day.)
(Happy Belated Birthday, Rach! The real life Baby Whisperer.)
His skin is so soft, yet his hands are so strong.
She’s really torn about having a brother. It was wonderful having both moms’ attention for almost eleven years. And yet, sometimes, it’s too much attention. Like they know when she does anything. And answering for everything she does is maybe a little too much responsibility.
He’s so pretty, with his nearly translucent skin. She can see this blue vein that runs across the bridge of his nose so plainly that it makes her more aware of her own skin, her own veins. How fragile she is. How even more fragile he is.
Nobody, nobody, will ever hurt him.
Holding him, she senses both his strength and vulnerability. He bounces when she holds him, and she can feel both his ability to push hard with his legs and his inability to stand alone. She can feel his core-strength between her palms, yet she has to make sure, still, that his big head doesn’t flop over and bang the floor when she lays him down.
She lays him gently on the play mat and tickles his belly. His goofy toothless smile gets bigger before it bubbles up into a squeal of mirth. She holds her hand over his chest, and he grabs it and pulls it to his mouth. Slowly she moves his arm across him and above his head. He pops onto his belly. For a moment he can’t remember she’s behind him now. Then she moves to where he can see her and the smile comes back.
Mama keeps calling her “The Baby Whisperer,” but Mom keeps mumbling about how much fussier she was at this age. Next time she’ll call Mom on it. After all, she’s just keeping it real.
She doesn’t know her Mom has them on the baby cam. From her study, Santana has been watching for twenty minutes. She looked up when the vocalizations changed, when she noticed their daughter’s voice murmuring, then sounds of delight from the baby.
What caught Santana was the way the girl plays with him. Santana would never have thought of playing that way herself. The easy physical play that’s also fun and delightful and educational. She’s never thought of herself as a naturally mothering type—she still habitually tends to be sharp with others, but it looks like maybe she’s done well enough, so far anyway.
Sometimes Santana thinks maybe she’s been too severe with their eldest. She does try to correct herself, but it’s so hard to let go of old habits. One moment of inattention and she falls back into her overly critical habit, and she knows, because that’s how it was when she was a girl, that the critical moments are crucial. That’s what they’ll remember.
She goes silently to the nursery doorway. She watches her babies play. She is so proud of her sweet sweet girl.
The most familiar arm wraps around her waist. The Santana Whisperer. She turns to her, smiling. Brittany returns it, sighing into her ear, “Baby Whisperer.”
Just as, for the first time, baby Charlie rolls over on his own.
Brittany’s leaving for MIT in the morning and Santana’s beginning to think that she’s not going to get a goodbye like everyone else did.
Spoilers for 4x22. One shot written for Day 8 (free day) of Brittana Week. (But also written to make myself feel slightly better about the season finale.)
Birttany’s Season Finale speech in a nut shell.
Our girls’ story. Sweet lady kisses, Landslide, their separation, the night of Prom Queen, Songbird, Santana’s Abuela’s rejection, the night after Santana learned about the political ad, Brittany’s senior year falling apart, the lights of New York, and other scenes.
My thanks to JJ, for being the most wonderful of wonderfuls, and for giving me so much insight into these girls; to la rose carnation, for writing our definitive novel; and to the lovely Ruth, who made the suggestion of putting my stories together.
Summary: What do you do when your home is threatened and is no longer safe? You only have one option: find another home. Brittany and Santana fight to survive and find a home in each other.
Work in progress.
Notes: Two-fer oneshot! That seems oxymoronic. Written for day eight of Brittana Week (Free Day) and also filling a prompt at the GGSM. I tried to put on my smut hat, you guys; I really did. But I have way too many feelings.
Summary: Sometimes comforting someone depends not on what you do, but what you know. Brittana, post-3x06.
brittana week, day 8: free day
i always will | a playlist for brittany and santana
“and then there’s santana…” “you don’t have to say anything, brittany”
u.n.i | ed sheeran: ‘cause you and i ended over u-n-i / and i said that’s fine but you’re the only one that knows i lied
manhattan | sara bareilles: you can have manhattan / ‘cause i can’t have you
all i want | kodaline: ‘cause you brought out the best in me / a part of me i’d never seen / you took my soul and wiped it clean / our love was made for movie screens
in my veins | andrew belle: oh, you’re in my veins and i cannot get you out
home | gabrielle aplin: so when i’m ready to be bolder / and my cuts have healed with time / comfort will rest on my shoulder / and i’ll bury my future behind / i’ll always keep you with me / you’ll be always on my mind / but there’s a shining in the shadows / i’ll never know unless i try
honey and the moon | joseph arthur: i think that you came too soon / you’re the honey and the moon / that lights up my night / but right now everything you want is wrong / and right now all your dreams are waking up / and right now i wish i could follow you
poison and wine | the civil wars: i don’t have a choice but i still choose you / oh, i don’t love you but i always will
you’re the one that i want | julia stone: you’re the one that i want / honey, the one that i want / can’t you see?