random ask but can you give us your head canon on the 'purrifect' artwork hanging in Santana's locker and maybe hypothesis on any other small gifts that brittany gave Santana that she may cherish?



Since there is next to no textual evidence to suggest anything about the Lord Tubbington artwork, what follows is pretty much straight up fanfiction from me, okay?

Jabbering under the cut?

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Title: My Friends Say that I’m Falling in Love

Pairings: Brittana romance, Brittanacedes friendship

Word Count: ~3,200

Summary: Brittany and Santana spend the week leading up to Valentine’s Day giving Mercedes grief about her date. Brittana romance, Brittanacedes friendship. Mouseverse.

Author’s Note: This story takes place in an AU which diverges from canons starting in episode 3x13 “Heart.” In this timeline, both Brittany and Santana graduated from WMHS in May 2012, and they never broke up. Instead, they moved across the country together and enrolled at UCLA. They live with Mercedes Jones and are currently in their sophomore year at college.

Heart Whisperer Chapter 1: Ride the Sky


Summary: Santana Lopez’s story is truly a fairy tale. This rags to riches actress came from nothing and made herself into a big star. When Santana’s mother gets sick, however, she’ll discover a whole other side of her life she never expected to find. And the sweet, aggravating cowgirl called Brittany Pierce is totally not going to be a distraction. Probably.

Next chapter is up~ 





Retired government operative Santana Lopez is slightly overprotective when it comes to her daughter, Sugar. When Sugar is kidnapped while on vacation, Santana teams up with her old CIA partner to get her back; no matter who or what gets in their way. Based on the movie Taken. Taken!Brittana.

Rated M for violence.


Barras de Oro Complete


"She shot them all."

"What do you mean, ‘she shot them all’?"

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Valentine’s Day


Brittany kisses Santana on the subway, on the sidewalk, on the front step outside Santana’s apartment building, in the elevator, and just outside Santana’s door. She kisses Santana while they take off their coats and scarves. She kisses Santana in the quiet darkness of the bedroom.

And when they’re naked beneath the linen sheets, both of them drunk on wine and kissing each other’s stained purple lips, Brittany smoothes Santana’s hair back and tells her she is beautiful.

Brittana fic. ~1.5K. Written for the 2014 Brittana Fandom Winter Fic Fall.

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Long Time Gone Series aka MIT Britt
TKTD Headcanon: “Between ACMCD and TKTD” Edition


So yesterday I posted the conclusion to my story A Careless Man’s Careful Daughter, which is a prequel to my story The Knife Thrower’s Daughter, and my beautiful and talented wifey posed a question about it:

After all of Mateo’s careful planning, how is it that Santana ended up not being able to stay in the bachelor cottage? And why couldn’t he just will his property to her? If he’s dead, what would it matter what people think?

Since I love my wifey and her queries are totally badass, I jabbered a lot in response to what she asked and figured I might as well post the answers for everyone to see.

Lots of legalese, feelings, spoilers for ACMCD and TKTD, and rambling under the cut?

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Pairing: Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez

Rating: T

Word Count: ~5,200

Part: Epilogue

Summary: Mateo Lopez keeps many secrets but none more precious or more dangerous than that of the existence of his daughter, Santana Luisa. Prequel to The Knife Thrower’s Daughter. Set between 1879 and 1898.



Coloring | Pocket Watch | Riven

Out of the blue, the hairs on her arms stand on end.

Blue washes across her and intensifies the blue of her eyes. This must be the moment when Santana’s decided on Brittany. 

Before, she’s only experienced the time ride from the inside, but outside, near another traveler’s entry, the blue shimmer of separated strands coming together stirs up wild feelings.

Brittany is reeling.

Seven years she’s been working toward this moment. Seven. Working and waiting for Fate to comply. High hopes. High hopes in the habit of repression. Working through inspiration and depression, all along she drove (on the rims) toward love, sometimes on the flimsiest shred of optimism.

Anything is possible.

Seven years in Cambridge, seven years in her same little single with the Dark Side of the Moon mural and the tiny sink in the corner. Seven years in the cyclical rime and swelter of her sheltering home. Seven cold, cold winters.

Salt water freezes at minus two degrees Celsius. She’s read that Hagga weeps jewels. Colder than two below she’ll weep jewels, too, if she isn’t careful. It’s been a cold winter, a string of cold winters, and the cold keeps creeping inside.

She’s kept the crossings to a minimum. It’s cold, crossing through time, crossing through space, trying to survive the winter of her heart.

Walking through the cold has been risky. She hates weeping in the open. But she’s proven good at finding shortcuts. She’s found tunnels—staff only—connecting some of the buildings. She’s found time shortcuts, too, but it takes a long time to make them. Avoiding the cold in the tunnels, she hasn’t seen sun for days, but in this moment the blue light of strands reuniting swamps her room and dazzles her.

Seven years she’s worked toward reuniting with her other half.

She gravitates toward the blue, amped in anticipation, then stops, realizing she’s waited seven years, but she has no idea how long it’s been for Santana. It could have been seconds. It could have been years. She wonders if their sundering will matter. She should have thought this through. She should have left her watch with Brittany then. As it is they’ll have to decide whether to go back to Santana’s time—and risk whatever might happen to the two Brittanys in the same time—or whether to move on. (And what about Santana now? - And what about Brittany now?) The last device she made took months to persuade the string into its strands. And time travel takes such a toll. They’ll need to rest for a while first. At least they can rest together.

They were always the best together. What if time apart has scarred them irrevocably? What if losing one another changed their fabrics? What if the warp and weft no longer thread?

It’s a common dread. Nothing’s for certain. That’s for sure.

Blue sucks breath from Brittany. Gasping, now heaving, now weeping, the tingle of time radiates throughout her, yanking her emotions. She reaches for Santana’s hand, but her own burns. She yanks it away.

All at once, dark hair and dark eyes materialize before her.

The wrong ones!

The punch lays out Rachel Berry before Brittany has even registered who it is. It simply isn’t Santana. Nosy Rachel must have been fingering Santana’s things.

A flash of the aftermath of Landslide, the first time Rachel pried between them, that made cold burn her insides. Brittany frowns. It’s going to be months before she can make another device. Months with Rachel.

"You," she hisses.