thisisntcanon

[thisisntcanon]

but there is credit in the tags?

The ABCs of Shelnard, completed series

[thisisntcanon]

[Psych] Fanfic Series Idea 3: "HS & College AU"

Story 1: Breakfast Club style all-day detention: cheerleader sophomore Juliet; trigger-happy senior Carlton; psychic freshman Shawn; hypoallergenic freshman Gus; gullible freshman Buzz

Story 2: Carlton hacks Shawn’s computer. At first, it's not with good intentions. After a while, though, they’re messaging each other through Word under the guise of taking notes in different classes. After Shawn has a terrible day, Carlton notices and consoles him through Word.

Story 3: In an opening night performance for theater class [inc. Shawn, Gus, Carlton, Juliet, and Buzz], Shawn ad-libs a kiss between his and Carlton’s characters during their open night performance. Carlton rolls with it, but he threatens Shawn once they're backstage. What the fuck!?

Story 4: Shawn and Carlton also live next door to each other, and Shawn can hear Carlton's music since their bedrooms are across from each other, and Shawn notices they like the same music (which Gus doesn't). So, Shawn buys two tickets to the upcoming music festival, and now he needs to gather his wits to ask Carlton to go with him.

Story 5: Carlton’s mom Mona (pre-Althea) is dating Shawn’s dad Henry, and “thank god I’m not the only one pissed off about this.”

Story 6: High school sophomore Shawn and college freshman Carlton are close friends, and Shawn still harbors a crush on the older boy. Carlton gets into a fight with Shawn’s ex, Abigail.

Story 7: Carlton is home one day when he hears screaming next door, followed by a car screeching away. When he goes to investigate, he sees that Shawn and Gus were watching The Ring when it got too scary for them. Although Gus left, Shawn is stubborn, so Carlton offers to watch it with him. *Cue snuggling*

Story 8: Carlton finds Shawn crying on his back porch. “Are you okay? Let’s go inside. I have ice cream and Netflix.”

Story 9: Great minds think alike. Carlton and Shawn don't plan ahead and arrive at a Halloween party in either half of a couples' costume.

Story 10: Carlton has an astronomy class, and he signs up - along with classmates Declan, Woody, Abigail, and Karen - to go stargazing in the field in the center of campus. Shawn decides to tag along when Carlton tells him about it. It gets cold out, and Shawn snuggles with Carlton for warmth.

Story 11: Shawn suggests a scary movie marathon, claiming he'll be okay as long as Carlton is there for protection and snuggling.

Story 12: Shawn and Carlton are moving in together. Unpacking each other’s boxes, they find some, ah, interesting things they didn’t know the other person owned.

you choose in which story they admit they're together

if someone will write this series pls just give me credit for the idea

#i had these scenarios figured out #but im not #not writing #im not writing these #i want to read them all #prompts #fanfiction ideas #psych usa

[thisisntcanon]

[Victorious] Fanfic Series Idea 3: "Lost, Sadistic Cat"

Story 1: Words Prompt: Pair of glasses held together by tape, Missing phone; Small, mean dog Story 2: Cat is a sadistic former serial killer. She’s bailed out and takes medication so as not to kill. Story 3: Cat gets lost in LA, causing a massive search. Without her meds, she goes off the rails. And she kills her way to Canada.

if someone will write this series pls just give me credit for the idea

#i had these scenarios figured out #but im not #not writing #im not writing these #i want to read them all #prompts #fanfiction ideas #victorious

[thisisntcanon]

[Psych] Fanfic Series Idea 2: "Series Prior AU"

Story 1: Shawn is really his "uncle" Jack's son. Madeleine has always suspected; Shawn has a few guesses; Henry knows since he is sterile. Story 2: Lassie has a son/daughter. He had a son/daughter that died before he moved to Santa Barbara, and no one knows. Story 3: Shawn got arrested when he was eighteen on purpose. It was his best move to never become a police officer.

if someone will write this series pls just give me credit for the idea

#i had these scenarios figured out #but im not #not writing #im not writing these #i want to read them all #prompts #fanfiction ideas #psych usa

[thisisntcanon]

[Victorious] Fanfic Series Idea 2: "Jade's Popularity"

Story 1: Jade was nicer before Tori arrived. Tori stole it all – boyfriend, respect, and friends. Story 2: Trina has no friends because of Jade. Jade is popular, and others fear her wrath. Story 3: Andre's crush on Jade isn't one-sided. She’s nicer to him and Cat than the others and wrote a romantic song.

if someone will write this series pls just give me credit for the idea

#i had these scenarios figured out #but im not #not writing #im not writing these #i want to read them all #prompts #fanfiction ideas #victorious

[thisisntcanon]

[Psych] Fanfic Series Idea 1: "Hiding Depression"

Story 1: Gus was depressed at one point. Prior-series and first few episodes.

Story 2: Shawn is on antidepressants. Obviously, with Gus’s help.

Story 3: “It’s fine. Stop worrying about me.” - Shassie

Story 4: Lassie is playing joyous and silly music, dancing around the living room to get his mind off the tough case. Shawn shows up, needing to bounce some ideas. Rather than shut the door in his face, Lassie invites the acclaimed psychic inside for drinks and dancing.

if someone will write this series pls just give me credit for the idea

#i had these scenarios figured out #but im not #not writing #im not writing these #i want to read them all #prompts #fanfiction ideas #psych usa #mental ill health

[thisisntcanon]

[Victorious] Fanfic Series Idea 1: "Abusive Households"

Story 1: <introspection> Cat has brain damage due to her mom holding her breath when pregnant. show family life Story 2: <introspection> Robbie has Asperger's Syndrome. Socially awkward; incredibly smart but offensive and seemingly dumb. show family life Story 3: <introspection> Trina is a foster child. The family is collecting disability checks off her; they prefer Tori. show family life Story 4: <introspection> Robbie suffers from depression. Rex is his extension and self-esteem. Story 5: <introspection> Beck's parents are abusive. He lives in an RV and never talks about his family. show family life Story 6: <introspection> Jade's mum was an alcoholic/druggie. Jade’s mom spent all their money on booze; Jade went to live with dad and stepmom. show family life Story 7: Hollywood Arts is a school for emotionally damaged teenagers. Tori & Trina’s parents are emotionally distant; Andre has his crazy grandma; Beck lives in an RV; Jade is obsessed with scissors; Robbie’s abused by Rex [self-esteem]; Cat is broken. Story 8: Robbie has a twin sister. But she’s at a boarding school across the country, and he misses her. Story 9: Jade clings to Beck, spending nights in his RV, Robbie can only speak through Rex, Cat is diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Story 10: Jade is the first person who Cat reveals her secret: she's genderfluid, and her 'brother' doesn't exist. Everything Cat's brother does are strange things Cat does. Story 11: Beck suffers from Clinical Depression. It doesn't help when his parents get divorced, and his dad claims Beck's trailer. Story 12: Cat's cousin, Wolf, moves in with her and starts going to HA. People mistake him for her mysterious brother, and no one corrects them. Story 13: Wolf is a hunter, making sense out of the 12 gallons of blood is from animals; fake feet are something found off the highway; purple to hide a scar. Story 14: The level of Cat's offbeat behavior depends on the level of pain meds she is on. She’s dying of cancer and only Jade and Wolf know. It's why Wolf is here.

if someone will write this series pls just give me credit for the idea

#i had these scenarios figured out #but im not #not writing #im not writing these #i want to read them all #prompts #fanfiction ideas #victorious

[thisisntcanon]

[Dora the Explorer] Fanfic Series Idea 1: "Human AU, College AU"

Ages: 17y Marcus "Map" || 19y Sasha "Backpack", Riley "Boots"

20y Dora, Benny || 22y Jesse "Swiper"

Story 1: Swiper is the outcast of Dora's friends. He’s poor and swipes after everyone trespasses and takes the family fruit.

Story 2: Dora is dating college farmer Benny, but Swiper keeps trying to win her over. In the process, Swiper realizes he has a thing for Boots and becomes conflicted.

Story 3: Swiper and Boots bump into Dora and Backpack, and the following conversation takes place:

Swiper: “Where are you off to today?”

Dora: “Well, Backpack wants to go to the park. Map says the best way to get there is over the lake, and then through the”

Swiper: “I’m just gonna stop you. You’re only motivated by what other people tell you to do.”

Dora is insulted. “I am completely self-motivated. If I want to do something, I’ll do it. Nobody can force me to start or stop.”

Swiper blinks. “There are two ways to get me motivated: food and spite. I’ve gotten so far on those two.”

if someone will write this series pls just give me credit for the idea

#i had these scenarios figured out #but im not #not writing #im not writing these #i want to read them all #prompts #fanfiction ideas #dora the explorer

[thisisntcanon]

Irina Katrina von Hapsonburg

1913

What an easy steal. The wealthy are such fools to leave such a treasure hidden in plain sight. Diamonds, emeralds, golden tiaras. Safes with the simplest combination. And hundreds stored away. This train has so many cars filled with wonders. Wait until Emil catches wind of this haul. Only a steamship ride to the next country. Sapphi—

Hans Ratburn pauses his ransacking to bite the possibly valuable gem, only to quell the urge to spit it out.

Costume jewelry. Why in the hell would the riche--- wait a moment. I think I saw a few perukes on the vanity…

Hans backtracks and begins sifting through the vanity he’d passed in another car earlier. He tries on a few wigs in the vanity, coming across a nice burgundy one that fits nicely on his head, framing his face. He centers his stolen tiara atop to help keep it on straight. He creates an outfit with some of the more expensive clothes he’d found and intended to pawn. He also finds a pair of long, white gloves. He adds some light makeup, clasps the phony jewelry to his neck, and collects a few extra tidbits – a ring with a sizeable gemstone, a pearl bracelet, and a delicate fan – before heading to the dining car.

“That’s quite an ensemble, Darling.”

“The name is Irina Katrina von Hapsonburg, my dear,” Hans smiles at his lover, twirling in place, “Archduchess of Moldavia.”

Emil smiles and takes ‘her’ hand. Hans isn’t the first man they know who has dressed in drag to not invoke homophobic attacks while in public together. Though, this is the first time Hans has tried.

“Well, you are certainly an elegant sight, Archduchess. Shall we convene to my quarters?”

“Perhaps after a visit to Polished Antiquities, dear heart. There are still a few jewels to mart or barter. Care to join me?”

“But of course, sweet one.”

2006

Nigel Ratburn turns off the television as Family Fortunes ends. He’d watched Muffy’s segment and thought back to the stories his grandfather would tell him and his sisters. He had never met his biological grandmother Olga; she’d died after having her two sons. Nigel grew up visiting Grandpappy Hans and Grandpa Emil, though the public only ever saw them as close friends.

He feeds Vladimir and Estragon before shutting the curtains and turning off the lights. After going through his normal nighttime regimen, he steps into his walk-in closet. Hidden away in the back are treasures and heirlooms from his family passed down year after year. He collects a faded red velvet box from the far-right corner and brushes away the dust. Inside lies a special golden tiara. Nigel runs a hand over the headpiece, smiling at the memories.

1913

Emil takes Hans’ hand, feeling like a lucky man. Not because it looks like he’s found a wealthy, gorgeous woman. But, instead, because he’s able to be out and about with his husband, no matter what the law may say. They’ve never really listened to them, anyway.

#arthur #pbs arthur #hans ratburn #emil ratburn #nigel ratburn #ratburn family #fanfiction #fanfic #swindlers #swindlers in love #in love #lovers #relationship #1913 #1910s #pbs kids

[thisisntcanon]

The Unreachable Star

Disco playing from the radio, racing down a lone highway in his experimental model car, and all that’s on Al’s mind is the QLP. The Project that saved his life. He had been in a deep depression on the verge of attempting suicide after his girl hadn’t waited for him. He’d been kidnapped in the Vietnam War. Taken and tortured. And his girl assumed him dead and ran off with someone else. With the only thing in his life gone, he took out his frustrations on an inanimate vending machine… and a hapless young stranger who pulled him away.

Sam. The man who invited him to partake in the Chinese food he’d ordered in. The man who laughed off the black eye that had begun to foster. Not only did he not pry, but he joked about the machine putting up a good fight. They’d become fast friends and begin working on the Project together. Time-consuming. Years passed, but they hadn’t grown apart. If anything, they grew closer. At the Christmas party, there were leers among hoots and hollers when Sam easily kissed him under the mistletoe.

Al had kissed back, feeling like a million bucks. But it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real at New Year’s either, but he’d had an inkling by Valentine’s Day. After all, grown men don’t ask other grown men out for dinner on February fourteenth unless… Al had been willing to oversee the blip on his radar until Sam asked to see him on a non-specified holiday. Turns out, they’d been dating since before Halloween, and Al was just a bit slow on the upkeep. They’d had a Civil Union in the summer, hiding their rings on necklace chains.

He adjusts his bowtie on his tux, keeping one hand on the wheel, and he doesn’t notice the woman on the side of the road. The woman in a sparkly pastel pink dress, flashing earrings, and a flat tire to her car. His mind is focused on getting to the Project, to Sam. Speaking of… Gooshie calls out, over the speaker.

“He’s leaping!” The man is hysterical. “Cindy said no, but Sam’s leaping!”

Al’s heart drops to his stomach and his foot slams on the gas. They don’t often drive separately, but Sam had an epiphany after a little rendezvous in bed this morning. Al had let him go, knowing it would only fester in his husband’s mind if he hadn’t. At this moment, he could kick himself.

“He can’t leap! We’re not ready!”

“Tell Sam that!”

Al reaches for his phone, dialing a number he knows by heart, hoping for the life of all things right, that Sam will hear his phone and pull away. They haven’t perfected the retrieval system. That was the task for today. He calls but no response. Dead silence. From Gooshie, he learns that Sam is in the accelerator. The building nears in Al’s sight, and he doesn’t bother with the gate. He crashes through at top speeds. Any direct interference will kill his beloved. Even so, he jumps out of the moving vehicle as soon as he’s close enough to the door. It’s murder on his back, but he’s got a one-track mind now. Sam would be proud.

“Where is he, Goosh!?”

… but it’s too late. He’s too late. Sam’s gone. The love of his life, gone in a flash. Everyone’s working around him. Al’s left alone, staring at the empty accelerator, silently wondering if Sam is doing the same. Wondering where the hell; when the hell he is.

“… 1956.”

“What?”

Al’s voice cracks, looking up to Gooshie. The man stands before him with a hesitant hand wavering over the former soldier’s shoulder.

“He’s gone to September 13, 1956.”

“How did you-?”

“Ziggy.”

Ziggy. Of course, it’s Ziggy. Gooshie goes on about how the sudden leap damaged some of Ziggy’s foundation and crossed some wires, but they can be certain of the date. Sam had been so excited over just the idea of the Project. Going back in time and righting the wrongs of history. Al had been reluctant at first. What if they changed history so much that they’d no longer be together when they returned? But Sam had assured him that so long as the two existed they’d find some way back to one another.

It feels like days, but only hours later, the minds behind the Quantum Leap Project (not accounting for Sam and Al, of course) have made a temporary solution via hologram projection through the accelerator. With the actual accelerator fried from further use until Sam can safely return, a volunteer can step into the imaging chamber and project themselves into the world where Sam is. They can see each other and communicate, but no physical touch will be featured.

“I’ll do it.”

The words are firm and determined, laced with concern and apprehension. Donna places a hand on his arm, almost questioning his readiness. She looks over to a nearby room with a one-sided mirror. It’s like an interrogation room mixed with a solitary confinement space. The scientists can see this man, an Air Force pilot from the fifties, but all he can see is some sort of waiting room. He has no idea what’s going on or where he is, and Al feels the same way inside.

Rather than voice his true thoughts, he lights a cigar to center himself. He steps up to the machine and nods to the control man to take him to Sam.

He materializes in an Air Force hut where Sam sits among the others. Al doesn’t recognize him but pinpoints the man sitting off a bit from the others. There’s a certain twinkle in his eyes that screams Sam, and Al feels uneasy. Sam smiles, laughing politely along with the others, barely glancing over at Al. Al knows they make eye contact, but the lack of recognition is disheartening.

“Oh, I like that guy,” Al grins, walking over to Sam, gesturing to the pilot joking bragging about being a hero. “Kinda reminds me of me back in the old days.”

Sam grins more genuinely, and Al feels a touch of pride trail down his spine. Still, Sam doesn’t appear too enthralled in Al’s overall being. He follows behind the other men. Sam obviously can see and hear him, but there’s no recollection there. Al feels like he did in the early days. Before they were dating, before they got to know each other. He always felt like he might do something wrong, and he’d lose another friend. And now, he’s stuck in a sort of limbo, unable to reach his husband. And his husband unknowing of him.

He ducks out for a while, the experience overwhelming him. Throughout the flight, Sam keeps seeing Al like a ghost in his white suit. At the diner station, Al is more composed. Until he watches Tom dancing with his wife Peg, knowing all the while that’s his husband. His amnesiac husband is in someone else’s body. And not in a fun way. Al watches them sway from across the room, imagining being in her place. Remembering their first dance in the canteen while the janitor swept away. They were the only people staying late on the Project, but Al asked for a break. And Sam asked for a dance.

“A dance?”

“A series of movements that match the speed and rhythm of”

“I know what a dance is, wiseass. Where’s the music?”

Sam smirks, holding out his hand before he begins to sing under his breath. “To dream the impossible dream… to fight the unbeatable foe,”

Al wills himself not to blush, though it doesn’t work quite so well. Sam keeps singing.

“To bear with unbearable sorrow, to run where the brave dare not go…”

Al accepts Sam’s hand, and the younger man takes the lead without breaking from his song.

“To right the unrightable wrong, to love pure and chaste from afar,”

He pulls Al closer to him, expressing himself by using someone else’s words. A particular someone who Al has talked about in a certain way.

“To try when your arms are too weary, to reach the unreachable star…”

The words fade away as they dance. Al glides across the floor, Sam pressed against him. He continues singing as they step, slide, rise, and fall. There’s no one else around, but Al imagines them dancing in a grand ballroom. Sam’s the most elegant person there; all eyes are on them, but Sam only has eyes for his dancing partner. If a lovely lady were to try and cut in, Al would sacrifice his happiness for Sam to dance with someone more compatible.

His hands grow sweatier, and he worries what Sam might think. Maybe he’ll brush it off as a hardworking sort. As he tries to forget about his hands, he feels his cheeks getting hotter, his neck threatening to make a home in the crook of Sam’s neck. There’s a perfect place, but Al remains upright. His heart begins racing, overthinking things again. Sam’s arms tighten ever so slightly, and Al relaxes a fraction. He breathes in a deep scent of pure Sam Beckett. He has his own intoxicating scent that Al has been striving to put into words.

Sam twirls them quickly, his shirt lifting slightly so Al can catch a glimpse of his sweaty torso before it’s covered again. Al’s mouth dries, his mind working in hyperdrive trying to think of why he would be so sweaty. It could be that he’s nervous, but then wouldn’t he just quit dancing? It could be that he’s just tired, but then why would he have suggested they dance? Before he can get too far in his own mind, Sam’s words register so close to his ear.

“… one man, scorned and covered with scars…”

Al had forgotten Sam was supplying the music as well. His voice is so melodic, and Al could swear the butterflies he felt with Beth have been reborn in his stomach.

“Still strove with his last ounce of courage…”

He’s struck with the thought that here, dancing an almost-waltz with Sam is the most comforting thing he’s experienced in a long time. He’s very curious about why Sam decided to dance with him, especially this song.

“To reach the unreachable star.”

Al sighs contentedly as the song ends. He’s hesitant to break away, and Sam seems to sense it. While he lets go of Al’s hand, he keeps the other firm on his waist. With the now-free hand, he sifts through Al’s hair and then lifts his chin, so their eyes meet.

“Sam, I—”

“I love you, Al.”

The words are quiet, whispered despite the men being the only people at the facility. Al barely has time to gasp at the words before Sam lowers his mouth to cover his partner’s. Al catches up after a few seconds, using the hand still at Sam’s waist to pull him impossibly closer. The next time they break for air, Al leans into the crook.

“I love you too, Sam. Always.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #al calavicci #al loves sam #beckavicci #lgbtq #quantum leap #sam beckett #sam loves al #calaveckett #this is a birthday gift for myself #happy birthday to me #it's my birthday

[thisisntcanon]

Candy Corn

“Sugar, corn syrup, carnauba wax, artificial coloring, and binders.” Colin rattles off ingredients while he holds a singular piece of confectionery like a golden trophy.

Lance grabs a dog-shaped pillow off the bed and throws it at his boyfriend, causing him to lose the candy to the pile of dirty clothes on the side. Wendell grabs another piece from the half-filled bowl sitting on the hamper. He pops it into his mouth.

“Where did you learn so much about chicken feed?”

“Chicken feed!?” Zack nearly chokes on his candy of the name.

Vincent grabs another. “We call it candy corn.”

#bones fox #fanfiction #drabble #colin fisher #bones #lance sweets #wendell bray #zack addy #vincent nigel murray #fswan #fawns #colin fisher x lance sweets x wendell bray x zack addy x vincent nigel murray #fisher x sweets x wendell x zack x vincent

[thisisntcanon]

my list of [nonanimated] fandoms & ships

#multifandom writer #fanfiction #fandoms #fanart accepted #so many fandoms #so many ships #my ships #my fandoms #talk to me #message me #dm me #the list so far #requests open

[thisisntcanon]

Community is Family (and Family is Better with Tequila)

“Good morning,” Craig chimes into the microphone at his podium, feedback screeching and echoing across the courtyard.

The students and much of the faculty cringe, covering their ears, and some instinctively crouching away from the offending sound. The dean flinches away in response, jabbing at the buttons across the podium. Everyone can hear him muttering under his breath, desperately trying to turn off the microphone. One student nearby, Abed, reaches around and hits the necessary switches.

Craig thanks him and turns back to the now diminishing courtyard. “Good morning. Many of you are halfway through your first week here, and as your dean, I thought I would share a few thoughts. What I community college? Well, I’m sure you’ve heard it’s the loser college for remedial teens, middle-aged divorcees, and old people keeping their minds active as they circle the drain of eternity. That’s what you’ve heard. However, I wish you luck!”

The dean begins scrambling through his flashcards, asking that the students wait. He had more to the speech, but he lost control again.

“Go and make friends,” Jeff finds himself saying into the podium’s mic. “You’ll find people who are driven. People with wisdom to offer. People that will earn your respect, or maybe you’ll earn theirs. This isn’t high school. you don’t need to impress the prom king. You are all better than you think you are. You’re just designed not to believe it when you hear it from yourself. On behalf of the dean, let me be the one to say, you are here because you are better. I wish you luck.”

The men step down from the podium after receiving scattered applause. Craig innocently bumps his arm against the younger’s.

“Thank you for saving me up there, Jeffrey. Where did that speech come from?”

He shrugs, “Couldn’t leave you hanging, could I?”

“My personal lawyer hero.”

“Your person lawyer student hero,” Jeff corrects him. “We need to keep a low profile.”

“Of course, Jeffrey,” Craig nods, keeping silent until they walk into the double doors, “I soundproofed my office over the summer.” When Jeff’s eyes widen, Craig shrugs innocently, “For those heated confrontations, of course.”

“Of course.”

He smiles. “Don’t forget what you promised me. The study group?”

“I could always blackmail Duncan into giving me test answers,” Jeff jokes.

“If I find out you blackmailed any teachers, I’ll give you blue balls.”

The student pales slightly but raises his hands in surrender. “Bad joke. Alright, I’m going to Spanish 101. I’ll come up with a group there, okay?”

Craig nods and they part ways. Jeff notices Troy and Abed standing outside the classroom. By the looks of it, they’re texting each other. Trying not to roll his eyes, he walks over.

“Hey, Abed. You know a lot.”

“That is somewhat accurate.”

“Do you know anyone in our class who thinks they might be failing or passing already?”

“Annie’s meticulous and confident she’s going to pass. Shirley’s going to pray for everyone, Pierce mock-farted at Troy by pressing his mouth to the palm of his hand in response for help on a conjugating assignment, I’m in the same boat as them, and Britta thinks she’s gonna flunk tomorrow’s test, so she really needs to focus and sorry if that makes her seem cold.”

“Holy crap, Abed.” Jeff gawks, “I see your value now.”

Abed cocks his head to the side, “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Dude.”

Abed glances to his best friend who’s stopped their texting game and is staring back in dismay. Abed holds up his index finger.

“Anyone aside from Troy.”

Troy hums appreciatively and begins texting again. Abed’s attention is driven to his phone, and Jeff shakes his head. He doesn’t get a chance to talk to anyone, though he takes note of the people Abed mentioned before class. In the student union later, Jeff goes through a grill line for lunch, intending to grab the bare minimum before meeting Craig in his office. When he notices a flash of blue hair, he leaves his tray in line and halfheartedly jogs after her.

“Hey, Spanish!”

She looks him over and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, don’t hit on me, okay?”

“Not trying to,” he holds his hands in surrender for the second time of the day. “Just wanted to let you know about the Spanish study group I’m starting.”

“Yeah, right. I saw you playing Bejeweled on your iPhone all class. How much Spanish do you know?”

“Duermo tarde espanol, una hora mas, no rayar mi coche.”

Britta wilts. “I really need help with Spanish.”

“I was willing to bet,” Jeff nods. “The group meets in the library at four.”

She nods gratefully, clapping him on the arm as thanks. A blonde girl wearing a fedora walks over, kissing Britta’s cheek before looking at the male.

“Hey, Babe. Who’s this?”

“Jeff’s in my Spanish class. He’s starting up a study group.”

“Uh-huh,” she frowns at him, “and we’re sure he’s not trying to just get in your pants?”

“Hey, I have someone else’s pants to get into.”

“Page.” She holds out a hand, “And is your girlfriend in this study group?”

“No, my boyfriend isn’t in our class,” he responds, shaking her hand.

Page and Britta walk away, and Abed slides up from behind them.

“You realize you said, I sleep late Spanish, one more hour, not scratch my car.”

“It’s all the words I know,” Jeff pauses. “Wait, you translated that? Want to join the study group?”

“Sounds good. Cool, cool, cool.”

“Paquito mas,” Jeff feebly waves. “That means see you there.”

Abed turns on a dime. “Actually, it means little more. Te veo alli.”

“Te… veo alli.” Jeff sighs.

He checks the time then heads to the dean’s office. Craig has just finished a salad and ordered more textbooks when Jeff pops his head around the corner. He smiles and closes then locks the door.

“Hello, Jeffrey. I trust you’ve formed a study group?”

“Three people so far. Maybe four. I think Abed and Troy are dating.”

“Sounds like you’ve had a productive morning,” Craig smiles back and moves around the desk to hug his boyfriend. “Did you spend all class playing Angry Birds again?”

“No,” Jeff sighs, melting into the embrace, “it was Bejeweled.”

Craig’s laugh vibrates against Jeff’s chest. Jeff begins to back up, pulling Craig with him until they collapse on the office couch without breaking away. The men cuddle, talking about their day thus far, and Craig downloads a Spanish learning program on Jeff’s phone for him to practice before the group is set to meet.

Hours later, Jeff’s had his second class, and Craig is back to dean duties. When four o’clock rolls around, Troy and Abed are once again texting each other. They’re sat at a table in a private room in the library in opposing chairs in the corner. Jeff sits at the head of the other end, the chair meant to be beside him missing as another group had needed it. He’s listening to his Spanish lessons but tugs out an earbud when Britta arrives.

“Bienvenidos, come on in. Pick a seat.”

She tosses her satchel on the table, taking the seat beside Abed, greeting him nonverbally.

“We can get acquainted while the rest of the group arrives,” he offers, wanting to finish his lesson before breaking into the test studying. “How long can you stay?”

“Page is expecting me back by six,” she shrugs. “You?”

“We’re trying to work out hours with my school and his work.”

“And does he have a name?” Britta presses.

“Craig.” He levels a glare toward her then gestures to the blue streak in her hair. “What’s your deal?”

She leans in, “I dropped out of high school because I thought for some reason it would impress Radiohead. I joined the Peace Corps, did a little foot modeling. I got tear-gassed at a world trade rally where I met Page. That is my deal.”

“Alright.” Jeff nods and passes her the clipboard sitting by the empty seat. “Add your contact info.”

She does so, writing under the other three. As she does so, Troy puts away his phone in favor of pulling out his notebook and pen. A sexagenarian from class shows up in the doorway.

“Are you the board-certified tutor?”

“I never sa-”

“I need to call my babysitter if we gonna stay late,” a stressed-looking woman walks in after him.

“I’m not stopping y-”

“What board certifies a tutor?” A young girl pipes up from the other entranceway.

Jeff runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, everyone come in. Take an empty seat and write your contact info on the sheet. I’m going to make copies later, and I’ll hand them out at our next meeting.”

He slides the clipboard to the seat next to Troy, and the older man, Pierce, takes the spot. Shirley and Annie follow in suit. Jeff stands up to start the meeting, discreetly switching off his Spanish lessons.

“Wait, where’s Britta?”

Abed shrugs, and Jeff groans. “Okay, just… go over the verbs. I’m going to look for Britta.”

He can hear the sounds of shuffling as he leaves the small room. He glances around the surrounding area but looks out the back window first… and he catches her smoking a cigarette. She glances around when she hears the door shut.

“And busted. Now you know.”

He shrugs, noticing the yellow tip, “But they’re filtered, so it makes them safer.”

She snubs it on the pavement and gestures inside where the students are flipping through their books.

“Looks like the rest of your study group showed up. Ready to get started?”

“Yeah. You good?”

Britta nods, and Jeff follows her inside.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here. How late can everyone stay?”

“I can stay at least till ten.” Shirley pipes up.

“I can only stay until six tonight,” Britta counters.

“Anybody have a problem with six?” No one does, so Jeff presses on. “Now, my name is Jeff.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Pierce interrupts, “My name is Pierce Hawthorne as in Hawthorne Wipes, the award-winning moist towelette. I’m also the toastmaster, so maybe I should do the introductions.”

“… go ahead.”

“Okay, well, you know Brittles.”

“Britta,” she corrects him.

“Ay-bed,” he gestures toward the next student at the table. “Ay-bed the Arab. Is that inappropriate?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, used to it.

“Roy, Roy, the wonder boy.”

“Troy,” he points out.

“Little Princess Elizabeth,” he moves to the youngest girl.

“Uh, Annie.”

“And finally, this beautiful creature is named Shirley.”

“Getting more Breakfast Club now.” Abed rubs his fingers together.

“There’s breakfast?” Pierce asks.

Jeff groans. “Okay! Introductions are out of the way, so let’s clear the air. Shirley, you seem to have a problem with Annie. Let’s address that.”

“Well, Annie, sweetie,”

“Can we skip the ‘pumpkins’ and ‘sweeties?’ If anything, your age indicates you’ve made bad decisions.”

The newly formed study group spends the greater portion of their time together talking out their issues: Shirley’s anger issues, Annie feeling inferior, Pierce’s inappropriate harassment, Troy still believing himself to be the prom king athlete rather than the jock who lost his scholarship by dislocating both shoulders in a keg flip, and Abed tries to deal with the chaos by quoting lines from various eighties movies.

“Attention!” Jeff stands on his chair to gain everyone’s consideration and keep Britta from sneaking out. He holds up a pencil. “See this? Its name is Steve. Everyone, say ‘hello’ to Steve.”

Troy, Abed, and Annie easily do so. Shirley looks at him strangely but waves to the pencil. Britta raises an eyebrow but makes her way back to her seat and tells Steve ‘hi’. Everyone turns to Pierce until he breaks down and says ‘hi’ to the pencil. Jeff nods and then snaps the pencil in two. Abed gasps, and the rest of the group flinches.

“Raise your hand if a part of you just died a little inside when I killed Steve.”

Abed and Troy’s hands immediately shoot up. The others slowly follow.

“See that? That’s something we all share. People can connect with anything. We all have issues, and we all have connections.”

“This is like that speech you gave this morning,” Shirley points out, “when you helped the dean.”

“That was you?” Britta looks over. “Huh. You’re good at getting to the people.”

“Hey, Jeff!” Pierce calls out, “I’ve been divorced seven times. What do you think I’m doing wrong?”

“You keep getting married.”

The older man’s eyes widen and nods. The others nod around the group, and Troy speaks up.

“Let me ask you something. People clown me about this jacket. If I take it off to make them happy, does that make me weak?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jeff shrugs, “Lose it to please them or keep it to piss them off. What’s weak is if you do it for them.”

“Whoa…”

“Now, how about we study for tomorrow’s test, huh?”

They wind up studying for roughly forty minutes so Britta can meet up with Page on time. The study group parts ways more connected than they arrived. Abed slips his hand in Troy’s as they walk behind the main crowd, but Jeff turns and leaves via the other exit. He finds Craig locking up and slides from behind to give him a quick kiss above his ear. Craig squeezes his hand in response before they separate.

“Good day?”

“Overall.”

“Study group?”

“Seven people.”

“Very nice progress since lunch, Jeffrey. Let’s get home so I can give you a reward.”

#community #fanfiction #dean pelton #jeff winger #dean x jeff #jeff x dean #jeff x craig #jean #abed nadir #troy and abed #troy barnes #troybed #britta x page

[thisisntcanon]

High-Vitamin Astronaut Drink

The school cafeteria is a bustling cesspool early in the morning. There’s an entire corner devoted to aerosol hair sprays and heat from blow dryers. Some of the stronger kids show off their muscles while they work on their quads and biceps using cafeteria tables and overturned trash cans. A smaller sort, like Cory Matthews, is better off sticking close to the walls to buy a snack from the vending machine.

“Good morning, Mr. Feeny,” he nods to his homeroom teacher for the next three years of middle school.

“Good morning, Mr. Matthews.”

They haven’t officially met as student and teacher, but they’ve known each other as neighbors for the past seven years. Cory pulls a candy bar from the machine, and the teacher frowns as he retrieves a coffee from the adjacent machine.

“Has your mother stopped feeding you a proper breakfast?”

“Oh, she does, but I gotta get the taste of shredded wheat out of my mouth.”

He watches as Cory takes a bite. “You know, you’re not doing your body any favors loading up on junk like that.”

Cory watches as the teacher sips his coffee and nods. “Oh thanks, Mr. Feeny. And please enjoy that high-vitamin astronaut drink you’re sucking down.”

“There’s no gravity in space, Mr. Matthews,” Feeny calls after him. “Therefore, astronauts suck up.”

Cory walks over to a near-empty table, and Shawn reaches for his hand under the table. As per usual, Shawn tells Cory not to antagonize his neighbor – though this one has the added effect of the teacher. And Cory explains how the only things that aren’t going to make him miserable at school are Shawn and dragging Feeny down with him.

Not long after, homeroom has started, and Mr. Feeny has a scene from Romeo and Juliet set up. His teacher’s aide, Vanessa, is a college student. She plays the role of Juliet having just taken the poison. The students play Romeo; Feeny has them pick up the knife and kill themselves in a realistic way. Shawn and Cory sit in the back, Cory listening to the baseball game through a portable radio and headphones – reiterating the score to Shawn.

Unfortunately, Feeny catches on. He yanks out the earbuds, followed by Cory’s feeble excuse of a hearing aid.

“Mr. Matthews,” he reprimands, “You do not listen to the ballgame in the middle of my class.”

Cory stands in defiance, stealing a glance at Shawn. “Mr. Feeny, who cares about some guy who killed himself over some dumb girl?”

Shawn smirks, and Mr. Feeny shakes his head. And Cory winds up with Friday afternoon detention. After school, Eric alerts Cory that he’s got a date with a hot girl, so he won’t be taking Cory to the Phillies game. He’ll be taking her.

“… but it’s like our special thing,” Cory groans as he paces in the side yard less than an hour later. “Eric’s been taking me to the Phillies big game since I was four.”

“I know,” Shawn nods from his spot by the door. “He was in second grade, and you rode on the handlebars of his Ninja Turtle bike.”

Cory sighs, half in frustration. “And now it comes to an end. Should I go to Dad?”

“You could, but doesn’t Feeny usually talk to him first? By the mailbox?”

Cory realizes what his boyfriend means and slides down the side of the house next to him. “And they’ll only care about the detention. Crap. My brother betrays me, my parents will take his side over mine…”

“But you still have me.”

Cory smiles and takes his hand. “Yeah, I still have you.”

The next day after school, Shawn helps Cory move out of the house – and into the treehouse in the backyard. His parents go along with it, bringing out bribery food. As it grows dark, the boys watch into the dining rooms on either side – the Matthews and Feeny’s. Amy and Alan spend most of the dinner talking amongst themselves, whereas Mr. Feeny prepares for a fancy dinner with someone who fails to show.

Friday comes, and Shawn wanders into detention where Cory sits alone. Mr. Feeny grades and staples papers a little violently at his desk. Cory is wearing his Phillies jersey, and Shawn wears Eric’s old one. The teacher doesn’t look up, and yet the boys know he’s acknowledged the familiar face. Eventually, it becomes too much, and Mr. Feeny goes on a tirade about poetry and the history of love – leaving the boys petrified in their seats.

On Shawn’s insistence on the way home from school, Cory starts moving back into the house. Shawn takes over when Morgan catches them and invites Cory to tea.

#boy meets world #shawn hunter #cory matthews #shawn x cory #shory #fanfition #fanfiction

[thisisntcanon]

A Danger to Your Being

“If I couldn’t trust my own parents to protect me, why would I trust anyone with my baby?”

Homer and Marge are still together, somehow, but they have never been the best parents. From a young age, Bart was the screwup while Lisa was the nerd, and Maggie just played cute. Any time the kids broke the mold as they grew up, their parents would distance themselves instead of adapting. Bart and Lisa changed their religions to atheism and Buddhism, respectively.

Their parents teamed up with the reverend to try and convert them back with ‘the power of Christmas’. They even turned Maggie against them. Lisa decided to be a jazz artist, to be a vegetarian. Bart was diagnosed with ADHD and dyslexia, but his parents were still disappointed with his grades. By the time he started high school, he’d lost all trust in his parents. His dad would reach for his neck, and his mom would only grumble.

“What’s this I hear about you and Milhouse shooting at the streetlamps, Boy?”

Bart snuck into his bedroom using the junk piled out in the back, most of it stolen from the Flanders’ family over the years. Maggie had been waiting for him, having set up a trap to wake her up if she fell asleep. Which she did.

“They were just pebbles, Homer,” the freshman retorted, edging away. “Just a damn slingshot.”

“I’ll show you a damn slingshot!”

By the time he graduated with Lisa, he’d lost all trust in Maggie. The nine-year-old sells him out for kicks. She doesn’t stow it away as Lisa would do, and she doesn’t immediately bribe him as Bart would do. She just runs and tattles, watching smugly as he’s punished – even after already being beaten by a group of college students just because he’s past curfew. Homer has always been abusive, and Marge just lets it happen.

“And yet you’ve been intimate with me for the past five years,” off and on is left unsaid. “Am I not a danger to your being?”

Bart swallows at the taller man in front of him. The blonde is now twenty-seven, keeping his five-month-old close to his chest. He thought he could finally see a future. His former flame, Mary Spuckler, appeared out of nowhere, and they’d gotten together. Had a kid. But after Mary’s childhood of over ten siblings and counting, she doesn’t want any of her own. She just wants to focus on her music career. And down goes another trust.

“You used to be,” Bart confesses, tentatively holding his daughter out. “But you’re different now, Bob.”

They don’t have an orthodox relationship. There’s likely no definition for the sort of relationship they share. They don’t trust one another’s families not to attack on sight. Years ago, they were mortal enemies – normal people don’t have those in life, but they’ve never been normal. The older man has a son of his own, nineteen now and studying to be Wicca. He carefully reaches out, and the baby girl is deposited into his grip.

“Yes, I suppose we both are, Bart.”

Bart watches as the once self-proclaimed murderous psychopath’s facial features melt as he takes in the tiny face in his arms. Bart isn’t sure what love is, but this is very damn close.

#the simpsons #fanfiction #older characters #sideshow bob #bart simpson #bob x bart #bart x bob #bart x sideshow bob #sideshow bob x bart

[thisisntcanon]

I is for Ice Cream

Dan and Phil have left the house – I know, surprising – to visit the Grand Opening of a new ice cream shop just down the pavement. They’ve each gotten their own flavors – chocolate with sprinkles for Dan and buttercream plain for Phil. As they are bringing their frozen confections home, Phil trips over a step-up and wobbles into Dan. The younger man drops his cone on the ground, and Phil immediately feels his face flush.

“Oh, wow. Um, you can go back if you”

Dan turns around with a mischievous grin, as if ready to attack. Phil sees what is happening behind Dan’s eyes. He can almost hear the mechanisms turning, and Phil is running. Dan trails after his friend, eyes trained on the sweet treat. Phil runs out of breath though, by the time he reaches a bridge. Dan sneaks around him and plucks the ice cream out of his friend’s hand.

“Hey!” Phil squeaks. “Stop taking my food!”

“Stop eating my cereal!” Dan poorly retorts.

“That doesn’t even make sense here!” Phil groans, catching his breath now.

“Too bad.”

Dan has eaten most of the cone, what Phil hadn’t already finished. He wiggles his eyebrows at Phil and drops the cone in his mouth. Before he can react, Phil tackles the younger boy, landing on top of him with their mouths colliding. Dan’s eyes widen in shock as Phil’s eyes skewer shut. He doesn’t try to move, though, and keeps his hands planted firmly at either side. Phil’s tongue jams through Dan’s lightly parted lips and retracts quickly. He pushes himself up but doesn’t let completely up – almost like he is straddling Dan on the pavement.

“Wha, what was that?” Dan asks breathlessly.

Phil grins, eyes now open. He crunches on the cone and lets some of the buttercream dribble. “I got my ice cream back.”

“You, you just, your ice?” Dan stutters, his face turning absolutely red with embarrassment.

Phil finds it all rather cute and lowers himself back atop the stuttering young man. Dan doesn’t stop him and he collides their lips together again. Phil once again explores Dan’s mouth, the obviously more experienced of the two, as he travels through all the nooks and crannies. He smiles when Dan finally starts kissing back. Phil then sits back up, once again actually straddling Dan. He smiles down.

“What was that?” Dan asks again, now with a nervous smile on his face. “Got the rest of your ice cream?”

“Even better.” Phil smiles brighter. “Got a kiss. From you. What I wanted.”

“You did?”

“Yep. Better than ice cream.”

“Really?” Dan is shocked. So many things are flying around in his mind.

“Really.” Phil gingerly slides off his best friend and pulls him up. “Let’s go home.”

#phandom #phan #phanfiction #dan and phil #dan x phil #phil x dan #fanfiction #phil and dan #dan howell #phil lester

[thisisntcanon]

Strung Them All Together

A business trip, Marcus thinks bitterly, Mom dies, and Dad ‘just has’ to go on a business trip. Claims he absolutely needs to go, and then we’ll be set for life. That’s what he keeps saying. When will it stop? And why the hell are we going out to the desert in the winter? I am sixteen, after all. Shouldn’t I just stay home and be ‘man of the house’? [beat] No… I don’t think I honestly want to stay home alone. But why can’t I go with him?

I haven’t even seen my cousins in a decade now. Shirley was three, and Mya was nine. I’m right between them. I remember way back then. Mya and I helped Aunt Violet bake macadamia cookies, and Shirley wanted to help, but she was too young. And that was Mya’s birthday weekend. She got a puppy and named it Redbeard. Mya and I were pirates, but Shirley was too young to play with us.

Mya got mad at Shirley for coloring in her comic books. And then Shirley threw a baseball in the house and blamed Redbeard when things got broken. Mya said Shirley did it, but she looked at me with those eyes. Like she was pleading with me not to say anything. But it’s been ten years. They’ve got to be thirteen and nineteen now. Should be different now…

Marcus’s thoughts drift away as he falls asleep in the passenger seat. Two hours pass by like two minutes, and his dad shakes him awake. The man grabs the two larger bags from the backseat and heads into the house to talk to his brother Vernon. The teenager’s eyes follow his dad but fall short on another young teenager standing on the porch. The girl has scraggly brunette hair curving toward her almost milky face; her eyes seem to burn a hole through the windshield, through Marcus’s skull.

Mom, come back. Please, come back. Dad’s going to leave me in the desert. I may never make it back home. How are we related to these people? Mom, please come back.

“Mummy is in the kitchen.”

Marcus starts at someone’s voice. He turns to the right, realizing the door is open. A tall blonde girl dressed in stylish winter clothes looks down at him with a soft smile. Marcus does his best to smile back. After unbuckling his seatbelt, he belatedly realizes that Mya has already grabbed his other suitcase. He follows the taller girl into the house in a companionable silence that feels almost foreboding.

In the kitchen, Mya stops short when Shirley appears around the corner. “I can take Marcus’s things to his room, Sister Dear.”

Without a word, Mya hands over the bag. Shirley beams at him with a sort of coldness in her eyes. Her eyes drift to Marcus for a split second before turning on her heel and bringing the bag upstairs. Marcus follows Mya to the kitchen counter where his Aunt Violet offers the teenagers an unsweetened brownie each.

“Marcus,” his dad speaks up once the brownie is mostly eaten, “you understand, right? I’m leaving you now, so I will… so I will never leave you again.”

Marcus doesn’t respond verbally. He still wants his mom to come back, but he knows that isn’t going to happen. Instead, he hugs his dad like it’s the last he’ll ever see him. When Marcus opens his eyes, he catches Shirley’s gaze, on the last step of the stairs. His dad leaves soon after, and Shirley takes Marcus’s hand. Marcus notes the heavy glances between the Holmes girls before the youngest tugs him to the room they’re sharing for the night.

Shirley is a quiet girl, but her eyes catch everything. She’s silent as she brushes her teeth while Marcus showers. She gets dressed in the bedroom, but her eyes are fixated on the bathroom mirror through the gap in the door, catching a glimpse of Marcus when he gets out of the shower. Once he’s wearing a tank top and boxers, Shirley is under the covers in her bed. Her arm dangles off the side, edging close to the air mattress at her side. Feeling unsettled, Marcus finally drifts to sleep.

The next morning, he wakes up to find Shirley wearing her flannel and jeans, clothes that don’t seem right on her. She’s sat on her bed, a book in her lap, though her attention is more on her cousin rather than the story.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Get dressed.”

She tosses him a second flannel and pair of jeans. Not girls’ clothes but also not his. Again, Marcus wonders where the clothes came from. Again, he decides it doesn’t matter. He pulls them over the clothes he's already wearing, and Shirley takes his hand again. She’s quick and strong, forcing them to race downstairs.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Aunt Violet calls out. “How about some breakfast?”

“I need to show Marcus the treehouse first.” Shirley protests.

A wave of understanding passes from mother to daughter. She nods and turns back to her nephew.

“Sleep okay last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Shirley, remember to be here by noon. The Watsons will be spending the weekend with us.”

A dark shadow appears across her face, but it’s gone just as swiftly.

“I thought it was just Joan.”

“It is,” Violet nods. “Lynn’s only staying for a few hours so we can catch up.”

Shirley takes Marcus’s hand again, dragging him out the door. In the backyard, Shirley pulls out two cigarettes and lights them in her mouth. She hands one off to her cousin.

“Go on.”

#elementary #elementary cbs #sherlock holmes #marcus bell #female sherlock holmes #sherlock x marcus #lockbell #shircus #fanfiction