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crack_van2008-10-03 12:01 pm
turnonmyheels.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2008-10-03 12:01 pm
Entry tags:
SmashnStreet, Hackthis, PG
Fandom: FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS
Pairing: Gen. Characters: Jason Street, Brian "Smash" Williams, Herc
Length: 3000
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hackthis
Author Website: dysFUNCTIONAL
Why this must be read: Because for whatever reason, there is not a lot of fiction out there that has Smash as a main character. He may be the spice, the flavor -- or to borrow a sports term -- the color commentary, but it's not about *him*. Delicious only has three fics tagged with his name and that breaks my heart.
The fic is set mid-season one [like most fic I'm reccing] when all we really knew about Smash was how far he'd go to fulfill his dream. He's snarky, full of himself, and the word humble isn't in his vocabulary. He takes it upon himself to visit Jason at the rehab center and we get an intimate look at their relationship past and present. Racism colors it like it does most things in Dillon, TX, but neither of the boys lets that interfere with their interaction.
This fic is laugh out old funny. It's emotional. It slaps you in the face with its honesty. It makes you fall in love with it. It doesn't apologize for any of those things. Just like FNL.
Brian ends up perched on the side of the bed, opening the bottle of milk while Jason stuffs cookies in his face. "These're real good, man, did your mom make 'em? Your mom was always the best cook."
Smash smirks. "Yeah man, my mom can throw down in the kitchen."
Jason came to dinner at Smash's house a couple times when they were younger, after football practice and all, but Mrs. Street didn't like that so much, so Jason stopped coming around. That was fine because Brian needed friends who were more like him, his mother said. He didn't need to be hanging around with that Street boy, with his uppity mother anyhow.
Jason snorts around his cookie. "My mom can call for take out," he says mock-helpfully.
The one time Brian went to Jason's house they'd had frozen pizza, it'd been cold in the middle and burnt on top.
Brian shakes his head. "Mom didn't make these though," he said, "Sheila made 'em."
Jason makes a scoffing noise. "Little Sheila, with her three Barbies who were going to be the first Barbies to play for the Cowboys?"
"Those are Noannie's Barbies now," Brian says between sips of milk, "don't hate."
Jason holds up his hands. "How old's Sheila now, anyway?"
"She's in ninth grade."
Street furrows his brow. "She's at Dillon?"
"Yeah, man, she's a pain in my ass."
"I didn't know that," Jason says.
Neither one of them says the obvious: that Jason hasn't seen Sheila because he hasn't been looking.
There's another awkward moment, and then Street's pulling the milk away. "Don't you see me drinkin' here?" Smash protests.
"Cripple here," Jason parrots.
Brian scowls and lets go. "That cripple thing's getting real old, man."
"Who're you tellin'?" Jason holds the plastic container with his fists and some spills down the side of his jaw. Brian lets it go. Street can take care of himself.
SmashnStreet
Pairing: Gen. Characters: Jason Street, Brian "Smash" Williams, Herc
Length: 3000
Author on LJ:
hackthisAuthor Website: dysFUNCTIONAL
Why this must be read: Because for whatever reason, there is not a lot of fiction out there that has Smash as a main character. He may be the spice, the flavor -- or to borrow a sports term -- the color commentary, but it's not about *him*. Delicious only has three fics tagged with his name and that breaks my heart.
The fic is set mid-season one [like most fic I'm reccing] when all we really knew about Smash was how far he'd go to fulfill his dream. He's snarky, full of himself, and the word humble isn't in his vocabulary. He takes it upon himself to visit Jason at the rehab center and we get an intimate look at their relationship past and present. Racism colors it like it does most things in Dillon, TX, but neither of the boys lets that interfere with their interaction.
This fic is laugh out old funny. It's emotional. It slaps you in the face with its honesty. It makes you fall in love with it. It doesn't apologize for any of those things. Just like FNL.
Brian ends up perched on the side of the bed, opening the bottle of milk while Jason stuffs cookies in his face. "These're real good, man, did your mom make 'em? Your mom was always the best cook."
Smash smirks. "Yeah man, my mom can throw down in the kitchen."
Jason came to dinner at Smash's house a couple times when they were younger, after football practice and all, but Mrs. Street didn't like that so much, so Jason stopped coming around. That was fine because Brian needed friends who were more like him, his mother said. He didn't need to be hanging around with that Street boy, with his uppity mother anyhow.
Jason snorts around his cookie. "My mom can call for take out," he says mock-helpfully.
The one time Brian went to Jason's house they'd had frozen pizza, it'd been cold in the middle and burnt on top.
Brian shakes his head. "Mom didn't make these though," he said, "Sheila made 'em."
Jason makes a scoffing noise. "Little Sheila, with her three Barbies who were going to be the first Barbies to play for the Cowboys?"
"Those are Noannie's Barbies now," Brian says between sips of milk, "don't hate."
Jason holds up his hands. "How old's Sheila now, anyway?"
"She's in ninth grade."
Street furrows his brow. "She's at Dillon?"
"Yeah, man, she's a pain in my ass."
"I didn't know that," Jason says.
Neither one of them says the obvious: that Jason hasn't seen Sheila because he hasn't been looking.
There's another awkward moment, and then Street's pulling the milk away. "Don't you see me drinkin' here?" Smash protests.
"Cripple here," Jason parrots.
Brian scowls and lets go. "That cripple thing's getting real old, man."
"Who're you tellin'?" Jason holds the plastic container with his fists and some spills down the side of his jaw. Brian lets it go. Street can take care of himself.
SmashnStreet