#i just think putting these freaks of nature onto the set of a reality tv show is so silly

[madscientistenthusiast]

Guy guys guys hear me out, which I say as if I do not have a doc open writing this, fic where the Waynes revive the classic old reality TV show "Make it Wayne", a terrible TV show Bruce worked on to throw off suspicion of him being Batman, now much make a reappearance after some sort of event happens that makes them need to bring this back, idk man I've just been watching those goddamn DC Superhero girls clips and giggling bc it's so unbelievably dumb that I love it

[purplerose244]

Peacefully

Here for this year’s Ninjago Secret Santa! Man I love this event, thank you a lot @coco-jaguar for organizing it once again! ❤ Hi @davisisacommonname, I’m your secret santa! Here’s you gift, I hope you like it! 😊😊

Merry Christmas and happy festivitites!! 💕💕

Summary: It’s a day like others, just without the usual mayhem shaking the entire city. A time to think of less stressful possibilities.

“So, what did we learn today?”

“That dares are stupid?” As they got back inside the monastery, finally escaping the chilling winter air, Nya raised a gigantic eyebrow at the green ninja. At which the mighty leader seemed to shrink the littlest bit. “… that dares involving the master of lighting putting lights on the tree using spinjitzu, resorting in him entangling himself into the wires and making every single bulb explode by electrification, are stupid?”

“There you go.” The master of water sighed loudly. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised it happened.” Despite the nonchalance of this blondie, the brand-new lights that they had been forced to buy and how she was probably the only one irritated about it – especially since Kai had been laughing hysterically for ten minutes straight afterwards –, she smiled.

Lloyd mimicked her, probably sensing he was not in mortal danger anymore, taking off scarf and hat. His golden locks puffed up as soon as the headpiece was off.

“Does the fact that I lost against Cole count as enough punishment?”

“Mhm?”

“I bet with him it was going to be Kai the first to cause an incident, he was supposed to be the one to take the bet. Now I’m in debt of one week of chores.” Another eyebrow was raised, less furious, more judging. “What? I’m trying to catch up, apparently the guys used to bet on everything when they first formed the team, from who was going to be the green ninja, to who was going to be the first to find out the identity of Samurai X! Like, I’m that prophesied green savior, and I knew about your little escapades.” Nya couldn’t help the little smirk. Ironically, the green ninja did turn out to be the first to discover the truth. “I could’ve won two times already, I wanna keep up now.”

They stepped into the kitchen, hearing faraway sounds. The others were most likely elsewhere putting up less expendable decorations. Nya was already looking towards the stove, thinking of nothing other than hot chocolate. Knowing Lloyd, they were on the same page.

“Okay, that’s uselessly prideful and kind of adorable, but this better not turn into a gambling addiction little one.”

“Nya, my father was the king of the Underworld. Is there really a worse evil than that?”

She couldn’t argue back.

Lost in thoughts about something warm to melt her frozen bones, she almost jumped when the sudden scribble came to her ears, and one extremely peaceful whistling that they were all too accustomed to at this point. In the living room right next, sitting on the sofa with the television uncharacteristically switched off, was Cole. Eyes on a random notebook he had on his knees, a pencil in the air, wearing that ridiculous sweater Jay found at the mall with muscled arms drawn over the sleeves – such a miracle of an ugly sweater.

He looked extremely taken by his activity, munching the end of the pencil every once in a while. Seeing their official lifter so calm and captured by whatever mindless activity had forced him to sit down was curious. It did happen before, but lately it got rarer. It was always a nice view.

Nya looked at the green ninja, who pointed at the kitchen with his thumb, right where the mugs where. She nodded, and went to take place next to the master of earth.

Who jumped right away, giving her a look.

“What the…? You’re back already? I didn’t hear you get in.”

“Wow, you don’t say!” From the kitchen the blonde’s voice erupted. “It’s almost like we’re ninja or something, unbelievable!” It followed accurate noises made by mouth, and if they knew him – and after years they absolutely did – then the little brat was probably mimicking an explosion coming out of his head – he was hanging around Jay a little too much.

Nya giggled, while the master of earth rolled his eyes with a little grin.

“Nice to hear you’re all in a good mood after our little blackout. You got the lights?”

“All done. Sorry about the scare, but it looked like you were in your own world.” She tilted her head, looking around. The living room was getting more festive, but it missed at least half the holly. “Didn’t you guys finish while we were gone?”

“We were going to, then something came up and we can’t really continue until Zane comes back to the shop… Kai accidentally set the tree on fire while you two were gone.” Her loud facepalm spoke louder than any of them. “I think Wu is still giving him an earful as he did with Jay as we speak … and before you ask Lloyd, Jay made a mess before Kai. So I still won the bet.”

“Aww, for once that I actually need Hot Shot to cause a mess!” The green ninja came out of the kitchen, the kettle starting to heat up into the kitchen, pout clearly in sight. For being their brave leader and the strongest ninja of all, he was still kind of a kid – although in all honesty, weren’t they all? “Anyway, what got you so into it that you forgot how to hear?” He walked until he was behind the couch, leaning over the master of earth’s shoulder and smiling. “Hey, that’s pretty cool! I didn’t know you could draw!” His surprised tone came out sincerely, especially since it felt like forever since they had found each other in this weird family. Finding new details was always a shock.

Nya scooted closer as well, smiling at the familiar shading of the chicken drawn onto the paper, with the real one sleeping over a pillow in front of the tv.

“You still have a nice touch. I haven’t seen you do it ever since it was just the four of you in action, and this little evil brat was in some random snake prison.” Lloyd mouthed an ‘oohhh’ of understand as why he didn’t remember. “To be more specific, I’m pretty sure it was back when instead of listening to my research about the Serpentine, you guys have tried to poison me with perfume.” Good thing no villain knew about her little Achilles hill.

Cole snorted, pressing his eraser on the corner of the paper.

“You were telling complicated stuff to that airhead that is your brother, to the guy that was lookin at your in awe while trying his hardest to ask you out, and to a nindroid. A robot. You can’t really blame us.”

“What’s your excuse then?” The master of earth raised his piece.

“I’m pretty freaking good at this.” Nya snorted. Again, no arguments here. “You know… I’ve been thinking about those times. And it’s not like it was easier, but I guess we didn’t really know how much things could become complicated and return back then.” Cole looked over the drawing, shrugging. “But I’m in vein of taking something back from there, exactly because we don’t know when we could get called into action again. It’s little, but it’s still mine… I felt silly like that this morning.” He grinned of that introverted nature that, despite years, was still a part of him.

And it was okay. It was great even. Nya gave him a shoulder.

“Hey, it’s not silly, it’s good.”

“Yeah! All of us should do something other than fighting.” Lloyd chimed in, dropping next to Cole on the other side, smiling. “Like for example, even though it’s been a pretty shady part of my life, I kinda miss PE back at Darkley’s. Moving just for the sake of moving. We should play sometimes, not because of training, it could be fun… or Nya could annihilate us, whichever comes first.”

“I’m not that competit-” The master of water blinked twice, shaken by the quickest flashback of her life. “… no wait scratch that, I totally am.”

Cole snickered, tapping the notebook with his pencil.

“Besides having as a golden rule to never put the blacksmith brothers against each other-” It could be the time Ninjago actually managed to get completely destroyed for good. “I would be down for that, why not? No sparring or anything, just a friendly match of whatever. I didn’t even get to do that as a kid, dad would always say that I could risk putting muscles where a dancer didn’t need them…” He flexed one arm, the massive hill pulling up the drawing onto the sleeve. He grinned with satisfaction. “How about football? I’ve always wanted to try football!” Oh for whatever reason other than having the strength to tackle a mountain?

“Absolutely!” Lloyd nodded eagerly. “Let’s do it! Oh, and soccer too, Brad and I used to try that a lot when we were kids!” He seemed to absolutely glow and the perspective, and it was kinda sad that such a simple reality represented an actual opportunity for him.

Before Nya could get lost into more self-deprecating depressive thoughts, and the fact that not even one of them had a normal childhood except maybe for Jay – and considering the still not so clear Cliff Gordon erased reality affair that was still up to discussion –, there was a loud whistle coming from the kitchen. The green ninja immediately sprouted into action, sprinting towards the sound. As soon as Cole decided to put down his drawing, seeing as the chicken had woken up to go bother someone – bet on Kai –, the blondie came back with three steaming mugs, giving to them all.

The master of water held up hers – a blue one with a storm cloud on it saying ‘Too tide to talk’ –, smiling at the distinct bitter scent of black cocoa. They knew each other tastes way too well.

“Sounds good to me. I also fancy basketball, so I’m down for that.”

“Nice! Mm, but how about other hobbies? Nya?” Cole took his time to take a generous sip from his mug that was literally dripping because of the amount of marshmallow – covering slightly the orange surface with ‘I’m a grounded person, like my coffee’ written on it –, while the gray ninja frowned a little. “Anything you would like to regain? You never really stopped with engineering so I’m guessing that’s out of the way.”

“Yeah, but,” She hummed, tracing the warm cup with her fingers. “That wasn’t a hobby or something I liked to do, not at first at least. It was just like Samurai X, a way to show you guys I could do what you did, even better. It grew on me, but it’s kinda work too, I’m proud of it but nowhere near as passionate as Jay or Cyrus Borg could be.” It was all about her tendency of holding onto the things she excelled at after all, the one obstacle that had almost cost her the true potential of her element. Despite her steps forward, putting a difference between liking to be good at something and liking it was still a little complicated. Then again… “… maybe painting?”

Cole grinned in surprise, Lloyd raised his head from his cup showing an impressive chocolate mustache – along with that black mug saying ‘It’s morning so you green and bear it’… and yes those mugs were all Jay’s presents.

“Whoa, where did that come from?”

“Yeah no offence, but you never stroke me as the artistic type.”

“None taken, it’s not exactly something that I feel it belongs to me, but maybe that’s why I used to like it. Because it was so far I didn’t have to think too much about it.” Nya smiled, taking another sip. “Remember the second Steep of Wisdom Wu opened in the middle of Ninjago City? To attract more customers I decided to work on a mural, right on the side. I don’t even know why, I just bought paint, brushes and a suit and started.”

“Oohh, I remember the one!” Lloyd snapped his fingers, the marshmallow in his cocoa shaking in the movement. “It was the one with the big majestic Wu serving the customer, I thought he hired an artist for it! That was cool!”

“You’re not saying it just because you’re my little brother, right?”

“Oh no, if it was ugly I would make a manifest all about it exactly because I’m your little brother. Brotherly code, smack talk every time it’s possible.” And then he fist bumped with his earthly brother nearby, wearing that same stupid grin. “But seriously, you were good at it. We finally have some free time to our hands, maybe it could be a good time for a new work. We still need the mural of that Day of the Departed where Cole turned back human after all, since those monks decided they had ‘lost the harmony of the inspiration’.” No one had been happy with leaving that important adventure behind – too bad they were in a monastery, a place of peace.

Cole hummed mindlessly, munching a marshmallow.

“Tell you what, how about we buy drawing and painting materials together for Christmas shopping?” He chugged down his drink, releasing a very satisfied sigh before leaning his back softly over the couch. “It’s usually Zane or Pix, we could take over for once and no, don’t give me that look water lily, it’s not for buying an extra cake and yes, do give me that look greenie, if you come along we’re so escaping and get to the sweet shop.” And there it came, another fist bump.

She had signed up for this.

She had signed up for this the moment she had let herself being overtaken by a bunch of skeletons, a past hit on her pride that to this day made her want to take a bone and break it in halves every time she thought about it – sports were going to be massacres, she was kinda looking forwards to it.

“I’m bringing leashes for you two vampires with sweet teeth, but it’s not a bad idea. And I like the mall in this period, it could even bring some inspiration as to what to paint.”

“How did you decide the first time?”

“I just thought of a simple design to get more clients.” Nya finished her drink, giving her eyes to a very curious looking blonde, thinking that it had been so long. It had always been so long, every single time she reevoked a part of her life, even though she was still so young. It was that eventful. “I worked on that project all day… but after it melted under the sun, it got ruined because of the wind and a lightning decided to strike it right in the middle, I just splashed it with all the colors I had and spinjitzued the heck out of it.”

“… rage, the mark of an artist.” Lloyd snickered, then he froze, suddenly beaming at the two. “Hey, why don’t you two work on something together? Cole makes the drawing and you paint it, it could be like a Christmas gift or something!”

Nya popped her mouth opened. How did they never think of that? How did they never while they had been battling villain after villain after villain after- Oh, there was the answer.

She turned to the master of earth, who looked just as engaged with the idea, if not more.

“Heck yeah, let’s do it! I can sketch a few ideas!”

“I do have colors I never got to try last time…”

“And I know mom got a few old frames that didn’t get accepted by the museum, I’m sure we can find a good one for this.” Lloyd grinned, scratching his cheek. “It’s almost weird putting up a plan for something other than defeating evilness…”

“Maybe, doesn’t make it any less good.” Cole winked at the two of them, looking inspired. And it was so good to see her brothers so high-spirited, and being happy with them. “… aha, I got one!” The master of earth hurried to the notebook, scrabbling quickly while the green ninja leaned his chin over his shoulder to see better, and the master of water did the same with her elbow on the other side. There was no other noise besides the pencil moving, and the suddenly more vivid voice of the rest of their family not too far away.

Peace was an abstract concept, it was in her life at least. But at least this moment, this situation, this instant, for Nya this was hers. And she wanted to make the most of it.

“… is that Jay getting entangled into the Christmas lights while doing spinjitzu?”

“Yeah? Is that the ‘should I punch you now or later for stupidity’ frown?”

“Nah, it’s the ‘what shade of color better depict bad life decisions’ frown.”

[random-imagines-blog]

Bittersweet (Barry Allen x Reader)

Requested by: @kurtbastianlover​ Wordcount: 3967 Summary: Like every fan’s dream, you suddenly drop into your favorite television show.

The world could be a very mysterious place. Not knowing how they built the great pyramids, the Bermuda triangle, the current US president - but the biggest one was how the hell you went from falling asleep on your couch, to waking up in a bed in the fictional STAR Labs with the actress Daniel Panabaker sitting across the room, looking at medical charts on the computer. When you blinked open your eyes and looked around your surroundings, you tried to think of how this could be happening. There was too much detail for it to be a dream, you could see things that were just background blurs in the show. And the IV needle stuck in your arm hurt too much for that to be part of a dream too. It grew itchy and you scratched the area around it, which caught the attention of the actress. She got to her feet and pressed a call button that made her voice echo throughout the lab. ‘They’re awake!’

“Alright, is there some new prank show out there where they drug you and put you on the set of your favorite show? Because that seems a bit on the illegal side, Netflix will never pick it up.” You looked at your arm and at the needle. You’d seen movies and shows where people pull them out of their own arms, and it always looks uncomfortable. “I’ll play along if you can get a Doctor or a nurse to come and pull this thing out of me. Health and safety nightmare for me to-”

A bright flash appeared, and then there he was. Grant Gustin himself, wearing the infamous, skintight Flash suit. It looked even better in person than it did on your shitty little tv. But how did he get there so fast? You would have noticed if he just walked in. It’s like you were watching reality with special effects. “Wow, it really sprung for the big names.”

“What are they talking about?” Grant leaned in to ask Danielle, who looked at you concerned.

“Grant Gustin, Danielle Panabaker. I met the both of you at SDCC a couple of years ago, after the first season came out. I don’t expect you to remember me, though you certainly made an impression on me,” You chuckled nervously. Danielle shrugged and looked puzzled, before coming closer to you with her hands up. You didn’t make a fuss, only watched carefully as she removed the IV so you were free to move about. “Did they have enough in the budget for Carlos?”

“Who is Carlos?” Grant asked, moving forward. “Is that the person who did this to you, or someone we could track down or...”

“Cisco Ramone? Seriously, what kind of show is this?” You looked between the two actors, frowning now. It had been a bit fun at the start, but the genuinely confused look on their faces was making that run out quick. “Alright, the only thing that I can do from here is pretend that this is serious, so that’s what I’ll do.” You breathed, then got to your feet, realizing that you were still in your pajamas. Well, this certainly is not how you wanted anyone to see you.

“How do you know Cisco?” Danielle asked. You noticed they were avoiding any sort of conversation about this being a show, as though they were scared of the topic. You didn’t blame them. You’d be confused if you were just going about your life and someone showed up and said they knew your life.

“We’ve never met, but I guess you can say that I know a lot about all of you.” You admitted. “I know that sounds crazy but hey, if I somehow slipped from one earth to another, in your words, then anything is possible, right?”

“I’m going to go get Cisco,” Danielle said, backing away, and left the room, leaving you alone with Grant. You stretched your back and took a better look around, noticing that there was no cameras, and the room was indeed closed off - not open like a set. Once Danielle was back with Carlos - it was strange to think of them as their characters when they were standing in front of you - you cleared your throat. “You guys might want to sit down, I have a lot to say.”

-

When you were done, and having done a short introduction of yourself, the three in front of you seemed to have their minds blown. Grant, no, Barry, had taken off the hood of his costume since you revealed that you knew his identity anyway.

“So somewhere in the multiverse, we’re a TV show. Please tell me I’m played by someone good,” Cisco said, looking at you eagerly.

“You’re played by a guy who looked exactly you. And this is your only real acting gig. It’s great though, you’re fantastic. And Caitlin, you’re Danielle Panabaker, you did, let me think,” You tried to remember other things you’ve seen her in. “A Friday the 13th remake, and a high school superhero film called Sky High. You controlled plants and were hella feminist.” She seemed more troubled at this than happy. “And Grant, sorry, Barry, you also did Glee, which is funny because so did Melissa - er, Supergirl.”

“So this is really all just a TV show? You know all about it?” Barry reiterated.

“Uh - probably, unless I somehow just changed the timeline. Can you tell me about what’s been going on recently?  Because by the looks of things, I might actually be ahead of you guys.”

“Tony - he’s made of metal or something. We were fighting and then I just saw you, lying off the side of the road. I couldn’t tell what was wrong, you were just unconscious so I brought you here,” Barry explained. You thought for a moment, Tony, Tony - no, you couldn’t be this far back, could you?

“Tony, as in your childhood villain, Tony?” You asked to be sure.

“That’s where I remember him from!” Barry jumped up. “I knew he looked familiar. But how-”

“This is just season one stuff. You have no idea how crazy things are going to get from here.” You sighed. “This is like, calm before the storm type of things. I could tell you how you eventually defeat him, if you want me to.”

“Season one, how many seasons are there?” Caitlin finally spoke up.

“So far - six.”

“I gotta go tell Harrison about this, he’s going to freak-” Cisco said. At the mention of Harrison Wells, you remembered the twist at the end of the season, and instinctively reached out and grabbed Cisco’s wrist. He stopped, surprised. It was the first contact that you’ve reached out for with any of them. It was still hard to believe that they were real, and you were touching skin.  Cisco’s skin.

“It would be extremely dangerous to tell him any of what I’ve just told you,” You said, seriously. “I wish I could tell you, but it would also be dangerous if I did that. Just um - just tell him I’m diabetic and I passed out on the street, and I’m - I don’t know, a cousin or something, because if he finds out who I am and what I know...”

“Do you know who killed my mom?” Barry asked, getting onto his feet.

“Uhh - yes, but - oh god, please don’t make me tell you the big things. I have a really bad feeling about this.”

“Let’s give y/n a little space, okay?” Caitlin said, smiling at you softly. You returned it, knowing that by doing this, you were giving them a little space. You climbed back onto the bed in the medical room and closed your eyes tightly.

You even tried to click your heels three times, muttering, “There’s no place like home,” but that didn’t do anything. You were still here, in the Flashverse. And you had a lot of decisions to make on what to tell them. They weren’t just entertainment now, you could be putting lives at risk. You could be putting your own if Eobard Thawne, under the guise of Harrison Wells, knew that you knew the future. You probably already ruined it by telling them that they had six seasons of adventures ahead of them. You sighed, and went over what you could remember of the first season, especially what was coming up next.

-

“He seems undefeatable,” Barry said, coming to you in the Medical Bay. A couple of days had already past. Caitlin got you some clothes to change into, and had concocted a story to Harrison about how you had been her neighbor when she was younger. He seemed to buy it and welcome you, which was a bit difficult for you to accept naturally, but you did your best. He still seemed to linger, however, especially when you were alone with one of the members of the team. This was your first one on one talk with Barry since you got here.

“He’s not - Cisco comes up with a way. You defeat him, with a little help from Iris actually. Just give it a little time, and stop trying to just punch him, it’s clearly not working.”

“Does she know who I am?” Barry asked, growing nervous at the mention of Iris’s involvement. “Does she find out when we fight Tony?”

“No, this isn’t how she finds out, but she does eventually. So just keep being careful, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” Barry nodded. “Hey, have you had a chance to check out Jitters yet?”

“Haven’t really been able to leave this place, no matter how many times I try to explain to Cisco that there’s no Central City in my world so running into a double of me is impossible.”

“Do you want to go, with me?” Barry asked. A flush came across your cheeks. You always thought that Grant Gustin was handsome, and that Barry Allen was an amazing character, so seeing that face, with that personality, and seeing those lips form ‘do you want to go with me’ was overwhelming to you.

“Is this just a ploy so you can go see Iris?” You questioned, trying to play it off cool.

“No, though she might be working. I just thought that since you’re here, I could show you around. Maybe you’ll see something that isn’t in the show.”

“Sure, sure,” You teased, knowing that he was in love with his best friend and that they would one day get married. It was best not to get your hopes up. “Oh, and can we also go to Big Belly Burger? I’ve always wanted to try it.”

Barry laughed at that, but agreed that he would take you there for dinner.

Apart from the danger of being near the big bad from the first season, being here was a dream come true.

-

You sat across from Barry at a small Jitters table with large coffee mugs in front of you. The place was larger than you thought it would be, but you only were able to see a bit of it due to camera angles. You got what sounded best, while Barry got his usual. And of course, Iris was working. It was just like the show, where she was front and center while there were background characters literally in the background.

“So you know all about us, why don’t you tell me a little about you?” Barry asked, taking a sip from his coffee. He was barely looking over at Iris, it was odd.

“Oh, I’m really not that interesting,” You said, brushing it off. “Not like you guys anyway. My life is pretty pedestrian.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Barry frowned. “There’s got to be something.”

“Well, I live by myself, so apart from my job, I doubt anyone has noticed that I left yet. Thank God I don’t have a pet or else I’d be freaking out about them not being fed,” You chuckled, trying to think of anything that might be of interest. You told him about your job, and how it wasn’t nearly as cool as being a superhero.

“You shouldn’t compare yourself to other people as often. Especially not TV characters,” Barry said, looking a little concerned.

“I guess I do that a lot, huh?” You tried to lighten the mood with a little chuckle. “Is there anything that you want to know, by the way? I mean, I can’t spoil the big things, obviously, but there’s probably some things that I can tell you.”

“There’s one thing that I’ve been thinking about, but you don’t know the answer,” Barry frowned. “How you being here is going to affect the timeline that you know.”

“I hope someone cool plays me in the show,” You mirrored what Cisco had said earlier. This made Barry laugh which was a wonderful sight to see. He was so stressed about this whole Tony thing, and his mother’s investigation. Looking at him smile, you noticed that he hadn’t been looking at Iris throughout the whole conversation, but seemed to have his eyes set only on you. You wondered if - maybe - did he think the same way about you that you thought about him?

“You would definitely be played by someone cool.”

You wiggled around in your seat, a little more bashful than you were before. “Barry, I have to ask-”

You were cut off by a shadow over the table,and it belonged to the one and only Iris West. She was absolutely stunning in person, just as she was on your TV screen. “Nothing else for you two before we close up?”

You were surprised by that, and looked at the clock only to find that you had been there for hours. Wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling shy next to the supermodel beside you, you shook your head.

“Iris,” Barry said, getting to his feet, as if just realizing that she was there. “This is y/n.”

“Thanks for the delicious coffee,” You said, smiling awkwardly. You really did have a problem with comparing yourself to other people. Being here had made that abundantly clear.

“You’re welcome,” Iris said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Barry has been rather busy lately, I’m guessing that’s because of you?”

“A lot of things, but yeah, y/n has been ... helpful.” You nodded along as Barry gave a haphazard explanation for your friendship. The look on Iris’s face showed that she didn’t entirely buy it but she dropped the subject.

“However, we are closing so - Barry, do you want to come for dinner at dad’s house sometime this week?”

“Uh - maybe, I’ll let you know.” Barry stood up and put his coat back on, and you did the same. Both of you left, and once you were out in the night air, you let out a huge breath.

“It’s a bit awkward, isn’t it?” You asked. “Iris is your best friend and you’re in love with her then along comes me and makes it uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

“You know about that too?” Barry looked at you, then sighed, leading the way towards the fast food place. “Is there anything that you don’t know?”

You thought for a minute, then shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t really know where to go from here. I mean, both the burger place, and in this weird life.” He nodded along, listening to ramble about how you missed your old life a bit, even though it wasn’t nearly as exciting as this. Within a couple of minutes, you had it all out of your system and were finding a place to sit while he ordered the burgers.

“Thought we could eat outside,” Barry said, holding up the bag. You nodded, agreeing with that, and the two of you found yourselves sitting on a nearby bench, looking out at the water. “I know things have really changed for you but, I like having you around.”

“Really?” You squeaked more than said, which made you blush again. You never even blushed this much in the real world, but then again, you didn’t have anyone like Barry Allen in your real life. He looked at you and a little grin came across his face - and you recognized it. It was the same grin that he had when he looked at Iris during the show. “Um - thanks, that’s really nice of you to say.”

Barry’s phone ruined the moment, the annoying beeping not stopping until he took it out of his pocket. “Hold on, it’s Cisco,” He said, and answered it. “Cisco? Yeah, y/n’s with me, really? I thought it would take longer than that... Okay, yeah, we’ll head that way now.” He hung up then put it back into his pocket, and looked over at you. “He found a way to potentially get you back home.”

“Oh, alright,” You said, a little disappointed. It felt like things were only beginning to grow here, like maybe you could have a place, but you knew in your heart it wasn’t right. Any move that you make now could affect the lives of these people. Knowing the future and not being able to tell them was extremely difficult. “Yeah, we should head over there.”

“Y/N...” Barry started, but then stopped as you got up and started to walk away from the bench. He jogged, rather than raced, to catch up with you. “It might not even work-”

“But it might. And then - then I’ll have to be content with watching you all on the television again, once a week, seeing you fight and be in pain, and see bad things happen, and good things and not being able to be there anymore...”

“I’m sorry,” Barry said, looking down at you as the both of you walked, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “I wish you could stay here.”

“Yeah, me too.”

-

You weren’t as thrilled about the idea of going back as Cisco thought that you would be, but you put a big smile on your face so he wouldn’t feel bad about all the work he put into it. When he explained that he would be attempting to alter your frequencies in the same was as televisions in their world, you just nodded and smiled.

“It was really nice to meet you all, I guess I’ll be seeing you again soon.” Your laugh gave away that you were a bit sad about this. They each gave you a hug - first Caitlin, then Cisco, then Barry, though his seemed to linger for longer.

It wasn’t until you rested your head against his chest that you realized that this was your only chance. At first, you were hesitant to bring it up, but then you looked into his eyes and knew that you had to. “Remember how I was going to ask you something at Jitters?” You licked your lips, still slightly tasting the  Big Belly Burger, and wished you had a mint or something.

“Yes,” Barry nodded. You smiled slightly, and tried to think of how to word it. Iris had thrown you off your guard back at the coffee shop, and you had to get those thoughts back together.

“I was going to ask if it would be alright if I considered coffee and the burger as a date. It would be really cool to be the only person on my Earth who can say they had a date with a comic book hero.”

He chuckled at that and you thought for a second you had made him blush, but it could have just been the lights. “We can both call it that,” He agreed.  

“And would it be alright if I ended this date ... with a kiss?” Even you couldn’t believe how bold that you were being, and Barry looked a little shocked by it as well. You two had just started to get to know each other but he thought that you were a lot more shy than this. But he nodded his head, so you stood on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his.

It was a good thing that he also tasted like burger, so neither of you had to feel insecure. Apart from that, it was amazing - there was a storm rumbling in your belly, which was more powerful than any butterflies you’ve ever felt before. It was like being on a roller coaster that was just about to totter down a large drop. It was like coming across untarnished treasure. It was beyond any other kiss that you ever had before, and when it ended, you were holding in tears that you had to leave.

He looked at you sadly as well, and took a couple of steps back. You smiled, because despite the sorrow at leaving, you were happy that it had happened at all. “Alright Cisco, beam me up.”

-

The last thing that you remembered was him pointing a device at you, and some sort of weird vibration going through your body. And then you woke up, which was startling because you didn’t remember falling asleep. You were back on your couch, with the credits of a recent Flash episode playing on your television. The only thing that was different was your clothes. It wasn’t the pajamas that you had been lounging it, but rather, it was an outfit that Caitlin had found for you, and that you had worn on your date with Barry.

That’s how you know that everything that happened was real, and not just some crazy dream. These were definitely not clothes that you owned.

You sat up and reached for your cellphone which was charging on the armrest of the couch. You saw that your phone was not only fully charged, but that you missed three days of your life, that you had 13 missed calls, 22 text messages and plenty of notifications from phone games - and of course, the ever threatening Duolingo reminders. You swept past those and called your best friend right away. She sounded sleepy as she answered the phone, given that it was almost one in the morning.

“You won’t believe what just happened to me,” You said.

“Does it have something to do with the fact that you’ve been lounging around, not answering your phone for three days?” Your friend yawned.

“Yes, actually, it does. I just went on a date with The Flash.”

You waited for your friends reaction to either think it was a joke, or be utterly surprised. It turned out to be neither. “Y/N, I know, you’ve been saying that since that episode came out.” You could hear them rolling their eyes from here. “Yes, there was a character with the same name as you back in season one, we get it, can I go back to sleep now?”

“Yeah, sure,” You said, and hung up. You looked blankly at the TV as another episode started. A rerun, but from season five, not the season that you were in. You rested back against the couch and watched it, a longing in your heart to return back to the show. You wouldn’t be able to watch it without remembering the feeling of Barry’s lips.

[eloarei]

Reaper, ch... I dunno, 7?

I was tired of not-writing, so I started what is probably roughly chapter 7 of the Reaper novel I haven’t actually properly started or plotted out yet.  words: 2,169 (T-rated, f/m, gen) chapters: ??? I dunno fandom: original characters: Vanessa Mattock, Theocritus, Mr. Mattock  ship: Vessa&Theo, Vessa/Theo (implied) tags: some supernatural nonsense, the difficulty of just living, adjusting to humanity, alcohol,   notes: hey I wrote this in like 2 hours maybe? That’s the charm of not having to follow any rules I guess. Even though it takes place in the middle of the story (so I guess technically it’s chock full of spoilers?), it probably reads just fine if you have no idea what’s going on.  x So there was a reaper living on her couch. Well, he wasn’t a reaper anymore, she guessed, but what was she supposed to think of him as? Theo. Theo was living on her couch, after he’d outstayed his welcome at Sid’s place. They’d had a nice, self-pitying afternoon together when she’d found him there, borrowing some of Sid’s bottom-shelf whiskey in the hopes of dulling their respective traumas. But in the end, Sid had grouched at them that his place wasn’t a goddam hostel and Vanessa needed to find a new place for her boss to slump in half-drunken misery-- he’d already put up with enough weird shit the past day, what with Camille straight disappearing on them after summoning a horde of demons and zombies to his door. (Theo later explained that that was an exaggeration; it was only one demon and the zombies hadn’t even made it anywhere close to the antique shop. Still, as Sid was mortal and mostly normal, it wasn’t a surprise that that was a bit much for him.) 

Vanessa’s dad wasn’t going to be super pleased that she brought a ‘strange man’ into their house (boy, he didn’t know the half it-- like the fact that that strange man had saved his life), but he definitely wouldn’t stand the two of them getting drunk in the living room with all the shades drawn and the TV set to some trashy reality show, which was what she really sort of wanted to do. So instead of taking Theo back to her place right away, she’d walked them through the outskirts of town, off toward the seaside. 

There was… a lot to say. Primarily she wanted to berate him for not being there for her when she really needed him, but now that she knew he’d been having a rough time of his own her sense of betrayal had mostly faded off. It wasn’t like he’d been ignoring her on purpose (though what was she supposed to think at the time? He always came when she called him, and sometimes when she hadn’t called him and he’d just fucking sensed she was thinking about him or whatever). And yeah, she was still pretty shook about realizing that her mother was probably still alive (and maybe even in the city), but becoming human again after at least a couple hundred years of weird immortality was… possibly even harder, she admitted to herself. So she tried to be supportive of what her boss (or maybe former boss?) was going through. “You, um… doin’ ok?” she’d asked, as they’d strolled down the street, staggering slightly on the occasion. He looked the long way down at her, probably hurting his neck in the process. He was a little bit draped over her, arm slung over her shoulders like an old pal, but even with his current slouch they didn’t even nearly match up in height. Back when he’d been his usual reaper-y self (the last time Vanessa had seen him before Tawney helped her track him down at the antique shop), he’d seemed to absolutely tower over her and everyone else, almost lost in shadow. Now he was just plain tall-- although it was still pretty freaking tall. “I… will probably survive,” he’d replied, sounding all the more pitiful in his proper English accent. “Well I fucking hope so,” Vanessa had said, at a loss for anything more substantial or kind. Be kind of dumb if he just died after all of this, she thought. Especially when there was still so much she was just starting to understand about this shadow world he’d dragged her into. (Well, ‘dragged’ was not totally fair; she did kind of offer, after all.) They hadn’t really talked much after that, until they’d ended up in front of her house, and Theo had cocked his head at her and said, “Why are we here?” Vanessa gave him a deadpan look. “You got kicked out of Camille’s friend’s place, remember? What, were you gonna sleep on the street?” “Sleep…” he’d said softly, like he was testing the word out, or the idea. “I hadn’t thought…” “Yeah, obviously.” And on purpose, too. Why else would the first thing he asked for have been alcohol, other than that he didn’t want to have to think about his new lowly position in life? But he was obviously tired-- eyes shadowed in a way that had nothing to do with the mystical and everything to do with physical and emotional exhaustion. She’d seen herself looking like that on more than one occasion, especially before he’d rescued her from the hellscape universe where her father was dead and there was nothing she could do about it. They’d gone inside, just walking like normal people instead of that vaguely-irritating appearing thing Theo had used to do before. (It was like he just hated doors or something, she sometimes thought.) Her father wasn’t home yet, and wouldn’t be for another few hours at least, Wednesdays being his longest work shifts. She took advantage of his absence by not sneaking around the house, guiding Theo to the living room couch and sitting him down. He sat there in the dusky darkness while she rummaged around in the kitchen for snacks. They didn’t have any alcohol in the house, but junk food could be just as good a balm. Sitting down next to him in the dark, Vanessa handed him a package of Oreos and a cola, while she dug into a fresh bag of cheese puffs and a Sprite. Theo looked down at the junk food in his hands. “What do I do with this?” he asked, apparently perturbed for some reason. She pulled the cola out of his hand with little resistance and popped it open, replacing it in his grip. “Drink,” she said. “You know how to do that.” Diligently, he took a swig of the chilly can, but his face morphed into a vague distaste as he swallowed. (Vague only because he was hardly emoting at all right now, she knew. At his normal rate of emotion, it would definitely be at least a scowl.) “This is far too sweet,” he said, and he set it aside on the end table. “Yeah, well,” Vanessa responded, grabbing the Oreos and ripping the package open. “You’re living now, okay, so you need calories and junk.” She pulled a cookie out and jammed it into his mouth. He seemed a little surprised, but he chewed on it anyway, and the tenseness in his shoulders faded a little. She didn’t know if that was because he liked it, or just because it was something to do. After a minute, she turned on the TV, keeping the volume low and just letting the colors wash over them. Theo was staring in the right direction, but she’d have bet he wasn’t really seeing the reality-TV shenanigans. (Probably a good thing, in this case, because it would have just annoyed him if he realized how stupid it was.) An episode or two passed, and she was starting to feel pretty drained. “Hey,” she started quietly, not wanting to shock Theo out of his trance too badly. “I think I’m gonna go crash. You should sleep too.” She got up to go find a blanket for him, but his gaze followed her, a little lazy, a little lost. “I don’t know how,” he said. “You don’t--” Vanessa blinked, and she blinked again. God, why was it her responsibility to teach him how to be a human? Shouldn’t it be Camille’s job since he was the one that took Theo’s powers? (Not that she thought Camille was great at being human either, but still.) She took a deep breath. “You just… Just close your eyes and don’t do anything. I dunno, pretend you’re dead.” A flicker of emotion crossed his face, probably unrelated to her suggestion. It was something she’d describe as ‘confused and annoyed about it’; maybe consternation. “I don’t know if I can do this, Vessa,” he said, and she knew he wasn’t talking about sleeping. Not exactly, anyway. “I mean, that’s…” She shrugged. “That’s life, right? You just have to take it a day at a time. A minute at a time.” He was zoning out a bit, staring at a spot on the wall, but she managed to catch his eyes and noted that they didn’t glow like they did before, that pale white-gold that always seemed to loom out of the shadows of her room. They were just light brown now, and tired. “Hey look… You know I’ll be here to help, okay? I’ve gotten through like ten thousand days. I’m sure I can help you through a few.” “Seventy-two hundred and sixty-three,” he said. “The days you’ve been through.” She scoffed and turned away to hide her smile. “Ok well that’s still a lot more than you.” She walked off to go find a blanket, wondering for a minute if Theo was going to be hot or cold natured, before she decided on an old course hand-woven thing her mom had picked up from somewhere, ages ago. She didn’t know if it’d be too hot or too cold, but if she was feeling as bad as she thought he was, that was the one she’d pick for herself. Ironically, he was out like a light by the time she got back. “Hey,” she said, draping the blanket over him. “Old man?” There wasn’t even the slightest downward twitch of lips, so she knew he was really finally asleep. Maybe his first sleep in a thousand years. She hoped it was a good one. She couldn’t say what exactly possessed her (maybe it was just that he couldn’t shy away or judge her), but she reached down and smoothed back that little piece of hair that always fell forward onto his forehead, and followed it up by pressing her lips to the empty space it left. She took a deep breath and inhaled his new, living smell. It wasn’t anything really specific. Just… warm. Smelled like hair and body oils and a little bit of lingering whiskey. Compared to the too-clean nothingness she’d whiffed before, when he pulled her close enough to teleport them someplace, it was just… better, more real. Smelled like a man who was living some kind of life, step after step, not… two feet on the wrong side of a grave. “Sleep well,” she said, even though he wouldn’t hear her. Then she tottered up the stairs and fell into bed, with just enough energy and presence of mind to kick off her shoes. Of course she didn’t hear the front door open, or her father cautiously step around the strange man sleeping on the couch and up the stairs in the desperate hope his daughter would have some explanation. “Nessie,” he said softly, settling his hand on his shoulder and just barely rousing her. She turned and glanced over her shoulder at her father, miles too tired to remember anything other than the fact that she was stupid tired, but there wasn’t a moment in her life where she ever thought of brushing off her dad, so of course she shook herself awake. “Dad. What’s up?” “Do you know why there’s someone sleeping on the couch?” Vanessa sighed. “Uhh, yeah. That’s my friend. Theo.” “Theo doesn’t have his own place?” her dad asked, raising an eyebrow just a little bit, just enough to show he was skeptical, but not mad. She tried to get her brain back in order and remember the excuse she came up with earlier. “Uh, well, his place had a f- flood, like a bad one, and they made everybody get out, but he’s kind of new to the area. I mean, he just moved from England, so he doesn’t have any family or friends to stay with.” Mr. Mattock’s face wasn’t hard to begin with (it never was), but it softened to hear his daughter trying to help a friend in his time of need. “That’s nice of you,” he said, and Vanessa knew he was being genuine, though he still seemed just the slightest bit uneasy. “He doesn’t really look your age though. He’s not… your professor, is he?” Vanessa grimaced, and she could tell her face was turning a little red. “No! No, he’s, um, he works at the library on campus.” Her father hummed, but he didn’t seem to be really criticising her story. “Well, alright. I’ll let you get back to sleep and then maybe we can talk more in the morning. G’night, sweetie.” “Night, dad,” she responded, and she managed to hold back her heavy sigh until he was out of the room. And then she fell back to sleep. She wanted to stay up and think about all the stupid little details she was going to have to probably remember for his cover story, but she was too tired to think anything other than ‘screw it’. xXx

[curupiracue]

The Shadowy Killer Arc

TRIIIIIM!

TRIIIIIM!

TRIIIIII-

CLOK.

“UGH.”

Waking up. The biggest, most awful trauma a person goes through. Every. Freaking. Day.

Maybe I’ll set it at 7:10 instead of 7:00... Nah. I would get late. What would people think of me, then?

Irritated, I get up from my bed, and I go through the living room into the kitchen.

“Huh? This is odd...” I think to myself after opening the fridge and peeking inside.

“The cheese packet… it’s a little bigger than before...”

Maybe… Maybe it’s just my imagination… I mean, that’s far from the most noticeable thing in the world.

…

…

...Ugh! I can’t ignore it, so I’ll just check it!

I open the packet to reveal a bunch of cheese.

“...Anxiety sure is getting to me, hu- ..uuuh!?”

A… A hand… Came from beneath the cheese?! No, it didn’t just came, it’s also lifting the cheese… Lifting the cheese to reveal…

“Shadowy Killer! Ms. Willdiesoon, I’m everywhere your gaze can reach now! And, once I get you… I’ll take not only your physical life, but your abstract one as well!”

...To reveal an humanoid figure cloaked in darkness.

It can’t be… Constructions and other things of the mental world can’t manifest in real life! So, is this a construction that causes me to hallucinate?!

“These are the rules I follow! And I’ll follow then endlessly, even if I’m defeated and evaded not only, not twice, not thrice, but a truly indefinite amount of times! Once I’m activated, your life is as good as forfeit! And now I’ve got you!” ! It jumped onto my hand! Wait, it’s manifesting a knife…?!

If it gets me… Is it referring to stabbing me with a knife? Then… Ah! I know!

I closed my eyes. And I prayed. If it was telling the truth, then it should be gone, right? My gaze isn’t meeting anything!

Though, how long can I stay in this darkness? Surely, I can’t just keep my eye closed forever… I begin to worry. Does this thing have a time limit? It seemed to imply that it didn’t, though that was hopefully just bluffing… And I should be able to get help? N-No, probably not. Whomever made this construction was crazy strong, that’s evident…

Oh my god. Will I… Will I really have to keep my eyes closed forever?! It’s just dark, i-it’s like I’m blind!

Wait. It’s not completely dark. There’s some red and brown because of the lights… and a silhouette…?

“Shadowy Killer! I’m everywhere, even on your eyelids! And you can see them, so I’m manifesting my hallucinatory form even here! Now, I’ve got you!”

“GAAAAHHHHHH!” I opened my eyes as quickly as I could. I feel like a second of delay could have meant my death. ...And possibly, something even worse.

But the moment I open my eyes…

“Shadowy Killer!”

It moved it’s hand on an attempt to grab me, however, even though it had appeared right in front of me, I managed to dodge and escape towards the living room.

But once there, I saw…

...nothing out of the ordinary.

No, there must be something… It wouldn’t simply disappear like that…

“Where… are you hiding…?”

I stay still, looking through the room…

...I looked at the desk. There were only decorations and the tv there.

...I looked at the tv. There was only the reflex of the sofa there.

...I looked at the underneath part of the sofa. There was... absolutely nothing there.

...I looked at the ceiling. There was nothing there.

...I looked at the walls. There were was only some pictures and a mirror there.

...I looked at the mirror. There was only my reflection ther-

Wait. My reflection? Covered in…

“Shadowy Killer! I’m everywhere, even inside your mirror! And there is no limit to the forms I can take either! Now...” ! It can’t be! It’s… walking out of the mirror and shattering it?! “Now I’ve got you!”

It grabbed me, and in response, I tried to hit it multiple times, but every attempt failed, like I was punching air...

“Do you really expect to be able to hit me?! I’m inside of your mind, can you hit something that is naught but an hallucination?!”

“Guh…! Naught but an hallucination, you say… there’s one place I can go that will allow me to fight you… and that’s… the mental world!”

(Going to the nowhere of importance. Wait patiently, if you will?)

I’m greeted by the chaotic scenario, full of buildings, animals, liquids, and really, anything that you can imagine, that is the nowhere are between each individuals’ mental worlds. I’m also greeted by Shadowy Killer, but it is it’ true form now...

“I’m getting tired of this. It might be dangerous to try and fight you directly, but I’ve got no other choice! Take this!”

I threw several  knives that represented aggression at it.

“UOOOOOH!”

...And just like that, Shadowy Killer was no more.

“Huh. Guess it had to be pretty weak and fragile to compensate for all that utility, assuming it was speaking the truth about making others forget about me.”

Still, what now? I couldn’t sense from who it came from… It easily disguised that fact as one of it’s many powers.

I guess I’ll have to find someone to do this… …? I feel like there was something, actually? But I can’t remember now...

Craaaack.

Prok!

“Ugh… a piece of wood fell on my shoulder… that’s why I hate this chaotic Mental World!”

Well… this isn’t my physical body, but I might as well look to see if there is any damage…

...what…?

“Shadowy Killer! I can appear as just a hand on your shoulder! But perhaps more pressingly important to you… I should mention that it’s impossible to destroy me in such a manner! I’m a metaphor for a killer shrouded in shadow, whose existence, and naturally, identity, is a constant unknown! So what you’ve been dodging, and what you destroyed… these were only attempts to murder you! My main body, that exists nowhere, is perfectly safe! I, Shadowy Killer, am infallible! Once my master has set me on a target, it’s impossible to escape alive! Do you know why?”

“It’s because every single permutation...”

“...Every single scenario...”

“...Has been thought of and had a counter created for them!”

“In fact, you spelled your doom coming here, for I’m much stronger in my “actual” form! Now I’ve got you! Not once, but millions of times already!”

GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT PLEASE LET ME GET OUT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!!

(And now, may reality torture us once more...)

“Ahh… Ahh… Ahh...” This is insane… Insane insane insane…

“The key on the bucket, I need to go get it… I need to call for help...”

But the moment I lifted the bucket…

“Shadowy Killer! I can come out of any bucket, or any object, even if it seems impossible for it to contain me, as long as it seems possible to take me out of it, for I am a being of perspective! Now I’ve got you!”

“NO!” I narrowly dodge it’s hand and grab the key, making a break towards the door.

Quick, on the keyhole, quick… …!?

“It isn’t going in…? No… It can’t be...”

“Shadowy Killer! I can even be inside the keyhole should I wish to! And If I can make it look like I’m stopping the key from moving, then your muscles will seem like they are putting effort, but in reality they’re still!” I-It’s jumping on my arm! “Now I’ve got you!”

Quick, the key, I need to open to door!

Clack, clock. Cak.

I did it! I’ll open the door now!

Wheeeen…

“Shadowy-”

BAM!

“-Killer! Why did you close the door on my face!? That was rude, you know! Thankfully, I can appear glued to the back of the door like a ninja! Now I’ve got you!”

“GWAHHHHHHHH!!!”

I need to run, the window, the window…! I opened it when I woke up!

Huh? That picture on the wall… It can’t be…

“Shadowy Killer! I’m everywhere, even inside of your picture! Now I’ve got you!”

“Guh! Uwaa…!”

The hands came out of the picture… it’s grabbing me… with one of them… and the knife in the other…

I have no choice…!

Briiink!

I broke the glass, and picked a lighter on my pocket, and set the picture aflame…

“Uwoooo! Gah!” In a puff of darkness, it was gone… But not for long… I’ll look downwards to avoid giving it places to appear! need to get ou-

But not even three steps afterwards I saw my own shadow move…

“Shadowy Killer! I’m everywhere, even in the form of your shadow! And don’t think this 2D form will prevent me from stabbing you!” ! It rose from the ground?!

I look upwards and realize that I’m almost at my room!

“Just a bit more, 5 more steps...”

BRAAMMM!

“...! Gah!”

The wall… The wall… It suddenly burst open…

“Shadowy Killer! I’m everywhere, even inside your wall! And if I hold your head like this, while putting two fingers on top of your eyelids...”

“...You won’t be able to avert your gaze from me! Now...” …! T-T-The knife… “...I’ve…” nononononononononono… “...got…” STOP! PLEASE STOP! “YOU!”

“GUH!”

This… This pain… It’s not just the stab… It’s my heart… My heart hurts… And I feel like my body is going numb… I…

...I…

“You are not.”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

“...!”

Oh. Seems like Shadowy Killer did it’s job…

“It took quite a while, though… Maybe I should stop using it as an alarm? I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry… but I need to at least oversee the memory wiping process...”

Yes, once Shadowy Killer murders it’s victim via a heart attack, it copies and rummages through their memories, and once it identifies all those who that person met, it goes to their mental worlds and automatically deletes all information about that person. During the process, I can view all these memories should I wish to, though of course, once they’re deleted, that is no longer possible.

“This is why Shadowy Killer is infallible. It hides any traces of a murder, by making it seem like there never was a life. In that sense, I’m not even a murderer. Because ALL who knew that woman will forget of her, it’s a 100% guarantee- eeeeeee…? eeeeeeee…!?”

W-What is this!? An error? Shadowy Killer, that is infallible, just failed to erase someone’s memories?!

“Shadowy Killer! Stop the memory erasure at once!”

…

...Whew.

That was close… A second more, and I wouldn’t have been able to investigate it to see what it was… Since Shadowy Killer would have erased it…

This isn’t just them resisting the process… I’ve made it so that if anyone powerful enough to protect their memories comes along, Shadowy Killer would instantly teleport me there to deal with them personally…

But since that didn’t happen, what did? Hmmm… It can’t have been a thief that memory wiped her encounter with him… Shadowy Killer would see through these weak memory erasures and would be able to restore the information.

So then, what did happen?

“Well...”

I dropped back at my bed, getting ready for the coma-like state my body would enter.

“Only one way to find out.”

(Going to the nowhere of importance. Wait patiently, if you will?)

“...Hmmm… I see.” I thought, while floating in the void.

“So it was a memory erasure… There is a scar here… But it’s simultaneously subtle and implacable. No wonder Shadowy Killer couldn’t restore the information…”

Now who would do this? I can’t think of anyone who would have this kind of pow-

Wait. Could it be…?

Could it be that someone is investigating me?

True, Shadowy Killer is infallible… But it only works on what’s mental, naturally. So when it comes to physical evidence, I need to rely on other means for the erasure, means that are nowhere near as infallible.

“But still, to think that someone would get info on an unperson… Not to mention, be brave enough to investigate it, knowing how powerful I’d have to be… Well, that confidence does fit with what I saw here… I’m done. Shadowy Killer, you can finish the erasure.”

(And now, may reality torture us once more...)

I get up, changing from my pajamas into a formal shirt and proper pants

“If they’re that powerful, then it’s dangerous to keep them around… moreover, they know that someone who isn’t alive once was… Luckily, since Shadowy Killer couldn’t find them, they aren’t aware of what happened yet, so I have the element of surprise… Still, I’ll have to” I put a jacket and as I’m passing my hands through the sleeve, I start walking towards the door:

“get rid of them.”

[yourfandomfriend]

Veiled Finale | Eerie, Indiana Meta

So, I think by now we’re all acquainted with the trope where a fictional character from a tv show suddenly gets thrown into the real world.

It’s a fun way for a show to go meta and let the audience see how their protagonist would take the news that their life is a story, seeing their friends and family acting like the actors who play them, and learning their suffering is for your amusement. So meta, right? Well, it could be even more meta, if you suspect your show is about to go off the air...

Let's put a pin in that and introduce Eerie, Indiana.

** SPOILERS** FOR EERIE, INDIANA ** SPOILERS **

For a lot of people reading this, depending on their age, all they know about Eerie, Indiana is that it was a major inspiration for Gravity Falls -- one lone kid convinced the sleepy town he moved to is the center of weirdness for the entire world. He investigates the paranormal and tries to get the truth out but it just looks to everyone else like he’s not adjusting. The resemblance is... eerie?!

The show had Joe Dante (Duke of Hollywood Weirdness) as it’s creative consultant, directing a couple episodes, too. It was about a kid named Marshall Teller, played by Omri Katz. The great thing about Marshall is that he's a regular kid. He’s sloppy, scrappy, makes bad choices, takes people for granted, has that tween self-consciousness, and thinks he can get something for nothing. All the relatable flaws, but he was basically a good kid. At heart.

His bestie is Simon Holmes (Justin Shenkarow) a nice but lonely latchkey kid a few grades younger than Marshall. Simon doesn’t really believe as much in the paranormal despite it being all around him but Marshall is his only friend, so he kinda just goes along with whatever it takes to keep hanging out with him.

Two normal kids occasionally called on to save the world.

At least, for the first 12 episodes. After that, the show experienced a retool. In case you don’t know quite what that is, it’s exactly what it sounds like. A retool is when a show is altered for various reasons, ranging from bad ratings to wanting to give a breakout character more screen time, all the way to someone at the network trying to turn the show into a vehicle for some pet actor.

EI was a great show but the competition was so stiff, no one watched it in its initial run. It was retooled to add two cool characters to the cast. Sort of.

The first was Radford, owner of the World O' Stuff store, played by a veteran of tv weirdness, John Aston.

The reason why he’s only sort of new is that the show already had a Mr. Radford before the retool. But rather than recasting him with a more established actor and hoping the kids at home wouldn’t notice the difference, they revealed the Radford we’d known up till then was a serial imposter by the name of Fred Suggs, who’d been keeping the real Radford in his basement for six months until he was finally caught. But not for long.

Pretty much.

The second was Dash X, a troublemaking homeless trickster with prematurely grey hair who woke up in Eerie with no memory of who he was and where he came from. A mystery in his own right and possibly the most popular character with the current fandom. This is in no small part due to him being played by Jason Marsden, the teenaged Ted McGinley.

In case you don’t know what a “Ted McGinley” is (this is turning into an answers blog as we speak) it’s when a character actor with a lot of charisma is dumped into an existing show to “spice things up,” usually as a hail mary pass to keep it on the air. As a result, the appearance of a TM in the main cast will usually herald the cancellation of a series or at least a stark decline in quality. The original has come to be seen as a pox on any show.

If one was to check Marsden’s IMDB page in the early-to-mid 90s, once you were done fangirling over him voicing Thackery Binx, Max Goof, and the best version of Peter Pan ever, you’d notice he ended up in quite a few sitcom retools, including The Torkleson’s, Step by Step, and Full House, and it pretty much always guaranteed the last season was on the horizon.

NO! YOU GET AWAY FROM BOY MEETS WORLD YOU ANGEL OF DEATH!

Kidding. It’s actually a compliment to be a TM, since it makes you the Cobra Bubbles of TV Land. The problems are already there if a show starts jumping the shark and guys like Marsden are the ones they call when things go wrong.

So yep, as a die-hard fan of EI, I very much approve of the inclusion of Aston and Marsden to the cast. They made the weirdness hunting more of a team sport and added humor and personality to the show. Okay.

The trouble was, in order to make edgy Dash work, they had to water down Marshall and Simon. Not okay. Marshall went from being a cool yet deeply flawed kid at the center of everything to being a goody-two-shoes who ended up butting heads with Dash and just reacting to the mayhem he created, while Simon went from a kid with a depressed, desperate streak to a cheerful cherub who for some reason really believed Dash was a good guy underneath it all.

As I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, the show was shifting its focus to make Dash the star. Which makes no sense from a creative perspective -- never mind that Marshall was a great protagonist. Even if he wasn’t if you were already gonna change him, why not just make him into whatever you wanted instead of replacing him? Why frame him out of his own show?

“Eventually they wanted to replace [Marshall] with this other character called Dash X. He was actually supposed to take over for Omri Katz. So they decided to do an episode called “Reality Takes a Holiday”, where Omri realizes he’s the star of a TV show.” -- Joe Dante [x]

"Reality Takes a Holiday” was the finale, starring nearly all the cast as warped versions of their real-life selves (designed less to resemble the actors and more to contrast the characters they played) where Joe Dante made a cameo as the director. It was great! Best episode of the show, in my biased opinion. But what Dante failed to mention was the connection between the retool and this episode.

The plot is pretty simple: Marshall’s family wants to take him and Simon out to the movies to have family fun. Simon is thrilled but Marshall is too cool to hang out with his family and uses his calling -- chronicling the paranormal -- as an excuse to bail on everyone. Then he gets that episode’s shooting script in the mail and ends up in the real world, on set, with everyone calling him Omri.

Marshall starts freaking out, as naturally he would, raving about how he and everyone else are their characters but nobody listens to him. They all think he’s lost his chickens over something to do with the show. But what?

Justin: “Stop it, Omri! You’re just mad because Dash is...” Marshall: “What? What are you talking about, Simon?” Justin: “...Nothing, nothing.”

Searching the soundstage for answers, he hears a familiar voice and follows it to the World O’ Stuff set. There he meets one of the only people in this place who knows who they are and who Marshall is, Mr. Radford. For some reason, inside the set is just like it is in Mashall’s world and Radford seems oblivious of the change until he produces a copy of the script. The last few pages are blank and Mashall realizes there must be a writer for all this insanity. José Schaefer. He rushes to find the guy.

But when Mashall finds Schaefer, he’s talking to Dash who also seems to know who Marshall is. And weirdly, no one’s calling him Jason. Apparently, Dash has these great ideas he’s been passing onto the writers for killing off Marshall’s character and not euphemistically. They plan on letting Dash literally gun Mashall down in broad daylight. As long as he stays home from the movies.

So diegetically, Dash is the one who’s responsible for the retool. Up till now, he was an antihero. Amoral in theory but ultimately a sympathetic human being, if not decent. Here he's a full blown psycho villain. So not only does Marshall have to figure out how to change the script, he has to dodge everyone in the studio who wants him to finish his final scenes, including Dash, who has to hunt Marshall down because if “Omri” doesn’t come back, they’re all canceled.

But Marshall somehow manages to shed his opposition long enough to trick  Schaefer‘s secretary into printing new pages, ones where he says yes to movie day and leaves with his family.

Dash tries to stop it, but in this world, he's just told to “clear Omri’s eye-line.” Action is called and Mashall gets his second chance to skip the paranormal for a day and concentrate on what really matters. And Dash, his plan to take over the show foiled, tears his freaky script in half and sulks off. The show ends. Bittersweet.

But if Marshall stops investigating Eerie weirdness, what then? That’s the whole premise of the show. Without it, what’s left? Well, it got canceled so... nothing. It’s hard to say if the show was canceled because this episode was written or if this episode was written because the show was canceled but either way, few series get such a fitting (or meta) end.

[sparklyjojos]

Let’s Read & Suffer: Tsukumojuku by Maijō Ōtarō [part 16]

Today`s recap: In which a curse is lifted, and the case of the four fires explained. [tw: mentions of csa and incest, gore, however-do-you-tag-phantom-pregnancy]

STORY 5 PART 6

Tsukumojuku and Rie headed to Inagi, still hearing the house burning and sirens in the distance behind them. The triplets were sleeping in their arms. (A proof of Tsukumojuku’s and Rie's faith and peace. Proof that they could protect them.)

[There's a long fragment in which they just walk by the quiet Tamagawa river, and Tsukumojuku's making sure the kids are comfortable, and it's really sweet and with melancholy-inducing scenery descriptions.]

At one point Rie said, “I love you, Tsutomu. Thanks for the help, earlier. That was really scary.”

He had no doubt in that moment that the children really were theirs. Conceived 2 years and 8 months ago, born a year and 10 months ago. [Yeah, so... if he’s 17 now then he really was 15 or less when Rie’s adult ass decided to fuck him. Ugh. Nope.] Rie's father had died 4 years ago, when she'd been living in an all-girls college in Nagoya. After her father's funeral, she returned to Nagoya, graduated and worked as a designer, and then met Tsukumojuku.

When 12 years ago her parents had separated, she chose to live with her father, apparently being on good terms with him. She said that she loved him only as a father, but apparently she thought it’d be easy for someone else to get confused about the nature of that relationship (?).

But Rie still had doubts, and considered way too many possibilities, and the existence of those possibilities was upsetting her heart. (But those things didn't happen, and therefore couldn't have happened. He wanted to say this out loud... but this line had got thrown around so much by him already that he’d just be repeating himself, so he--

Wait, no. He had only ever said things like that in Seiryoin's Stories. Not yet in reality. It had never actually happened.)

“Don't get caught by the police, Tsutomu,” Rie said.

“I won't.”

“You're such a looker. Take the sunglasses off. It's dark, so I'll be fine.”

He did, and they kissed.

“Poor Tsukumojuku,” she said.

–

They got through a bridge and caught a taxi to Rie's mother's house. Tsukumojuku put the kids to sleep and headed back to Chofu to “sort some things out”, and said, “...I love you, Rie,” which sent her into a crying fit because apparently he’d never told her that. [Hey, Rie? You know what you can do to get a serious relationship? Hook up with a goddamn adult, you kid-diddling fuck]

Back in Chofu, the fires were still burning. Since there were four of them, there must have been three other “Angels” beside Seshiru.

Before their still burning house there was a line of policemen. It seemed they’d found Seshiru's body.

(Tsukumojuku now doubted that Seshiru had actually wanted to kill Rie or the kids, more likely just hold them hostage to get Tsukumojuku to show up.)

Tsukumojuku then found Seshiru's car (an Alfa Romeo, which, sure). In the passenger seat Serika was sleeping, traces of tears on her face. She must have already learned that Seshiru had died. Judging by the state of her body, she was heavily pregnant.

That moment could be the only occasion to fulfill the second curse.

...But his curse was already effective as just words. It didn't have to exist in reality. It hadn’t been necessary for Seshiru to die, too; he only died because he threw all these awful words at Rie. (Dear Seshiru. He didn't really want to kill Seshiru.)

...Let's leave Serika and her child alone.

Carefully ignoring her presence, Tsukumojuku found four stacks of paper in the car: Seiryoin's Stories. He opened the door just slightly and took them--

“Gajobun,” Serika said quietly. “Please forgive Seshiru.”

“...I killed him.”

“I know. But I want you to forgive him.”

“It doesn't matter if I do if he's dead.”

“You're wrong, Gajobun. ...and there are still things left to resolve. You know who my child is?”

“It’s Seshiru's.”

“No, Gajobun. It's yours. And it's triplets--”

But Tsukumojuku didn't have any of this bullshit, touched her stomach and well, that definitely wasn’t a kid in there, but something square and hard. A book? So he took out Seshiru's knife and cut open her stomach and pulled out three books wrapped in plastic bags and they were all signed by Seiryoin Ryusui and carried the names

TSUKUMOJUKU

KATO SESHIRU

SUZUKI TSUTOMU

...Tsukumojuku suddenly returned to reality, staring at Serika’s intact stomach.

What just happened was an illusion. It must have been a dream, again. Desperate to finally wake up from that dream, he took off the sunglasses, pulled out the knife and cut deep into the sides of his face, and, uh, kinda cut his face off like a mask because that’s the kinda book we’re working with here. Serika was understandably freaked out until he told her that he was alright and that they could now talk without the risk of her fainting. [...there are less drastic ways to do this, you know]

When he brought up Serika’s kids again, she just laughed and explained that that earlier had been a joke, she wasn't actually having kids; it was a false pregnancy. “What is inside there is merely my dream. Something I just imagined for the past nine months. Amazing, isn't it? The power of human dreams and belief.”

“...then, whose children did you want to have?”

She explained - at first Seshiru's, then Gajobun's, with time both of them, but she wasn’t actually having any kids, so it didn't matter, right? And if she’s lonely after the false pregnancy resolves, she can just fall in love with another imaginary man and have an imaginary child with him.

“Hey, Gajobun, are things going okay with you and yor wife?” she asked.

“Yes.

“Are your kids cute?”

“...cute indeed.”

“I see. ...maybe it is better to create things like family just using own imagination.”

Tsukumojuku said nothing to that, instead telling her to get out of the car and run, since the fire was still spreading through the neighborhood.

“I'm sorry, Gajobun. I'm truly sorry. I mean... for that last day in Fukui. I didn't expect you to come in. And I didn't want things to end like they did, with Seshiru.”

“I don't mind.”

“And... sorry for bothering you. For all those horrible things I did to you. I'm sorry for everything.”

“And I remove my curse. I want you and your children to live in happiness.”

She said that she’d been blessed like God blessed Abraham, talking about children as many as stars in the sky and sand on the seashore, and that they would take possession of the cities of their enemies [Genesis 22].

He put his face back on [...that works], made sure that Serika escaped safely, and by himself headed for the Daiei Studio.

–

[Brief mention about snooping around in Daiei Studio, near the primary school and the health center, where fires occurred. Also he had to sew his face back in place before talking with the police, yeah, thank you for this completely necessary detail, Maijo.]

Tsukumojuku explained to the police that the four fires were all the fault of Inugami Yasha, aka Kato Seshiru. It'd be impossible to arrest him for all the four fires, since they were in four different places and if you don't find proof of how it could have been done, good luck in court. If there were three other fires, everyone would think three other people were involved. However...

Tsukumojuku showed everyone seven burnt charcoal arrows. He had found three of them outside what remained of his house. Seshiru must have ignited and released them, and thus set the house on fire sorta on a timer. The three other fires weren't impossible to make if he was quick, and he did have a fast car.

Tsukumojuku also said that he had caught Seshiru red-handed when returning from the hospital, and fought him, and was forced to kill him in self-defense, sorry!, and as for that “Here is Sodom” written on the wall, this was just random gibberish that nobody knew the meaning of, you know?

–

Tsukumojuku returned to the house of Rie's mother. There he read three letters he found on the arson scenes; all had been wrapped in aluminum foil around the arrows so they wouldn’t burn.

“Oh, what's that?” Rie's mother inquired.

“Somebody's joke.”

“There's your name written here?”

(Indeed, the three letters said:

'THE CRIMINAL OF GENEIJO IS GREAT DETECTIVE TSUKUMOJUKU'

'THE CRIMINAL OF GENEIJO IS SEIRYOIN RYUSUI'

'THE CRIMINAL OF GENEIJO IS DAIBAKUSHO CURRY')

“Well, but I'm not a great detective, and neither am I called Tsukumojuku. I'm Ishida Tsutomu.” [Ishida is Rie’s surname] 

And he threw the letters into the garbage.

--

The truth was, Seshiru had only set one house on fire, but at that time, something else had happened.

Inside the Castle, somebody figured out the criminal's name and wanted to pass it to the people outside by writing a letter, wrapping it in foil and attaching it to an arrow. A lit charcoal arrow was perfectly visible in the night, especially if it set a small fire where it hit, so it’d attract attention. Unfortunately, the criminal discovered that plan and released his own fire arrows in different directions to divert attention -- and these three arrows caused the fires.

To hide the existence of the letters, Tsukumojuku had pushed the responsibility for all those fires onto Seshiru. (He probably wouldn't mind, being dead and all.)

While he was pondering about the letters, the real Tsutomu called them, which was unsettling since he shouldn’t know how to contact the mother-in-law’s house.

“How do you know my number?” Tsukumojuku asked.

“Hahaha, I'm not a great detective for nothing, you know.”

“...A great detective?”

“Daibakusho Curry. Pleased to meet you.” Like in the Stories, then.

“Tsutomu, do you know who Seiryoin Ryusui is?”

“Of course I know. It's me.” Tsutomu then told him to turn on the TV. There was some news about a big fire... but not any of the ones in Chofu.

In Nishi Akatsuki, the Kato house was burning, and written on its front wall was,

HERE IS GOMORRA

“You did that, big brother,” Tsutomu said. “I don't yet know how, but I’m certain you did it.”

Tsukumojuku tried to defend himself, and asked why on earth would Tsutomu send them the Stories, but Tsutomu had no clue what he was talking about. Wait, but he had said his name was Seiryoin?...

“I don't quite understand what’s going on,” Tsutomu said, “but this was the name you once gave me. Did you forget about it?”

“...”

“Whatever. I'm going back home with everyone now. ...Catch you later.” [Hopefully not literally.]

In the end, the house had burned down, but everyone -- Tsutomu, Mr. Kato, Takashi, Heisuke, Shiono -- were safe.

---

IMPRESSIONS:

*remembers Serika has a little kid in Jorge Joestar* Hum.

Welp, the universe seems to be glitching once again on Tsukumojuku. Hopefully this won’t end badly. (It usually leads to some unnecessary gore, so...)

I aggressively don’t care about Rie, sorry book but you can’t make me like her if she thinks fucking middle-schoolers is okay. Same goes for her mom who seems to be just fine with this situation too.

I don’t understand who Seiryoin is and at this point I’m afraid to ask.

>>>>NEXT PART>>>>

[onceabluemoonwrites]

Beg Thy Lord the Stars Have Not Defied the Laws of Nature

Summary: ‘’Now we’ve established I’m Tsukuyomi, can I have my tracksuit back?’’

Disclaimer: I don’t own Noragami.

FF.net | AO3

You can find my fic master list here.

Note: My eternal thanks to the Meet Me in the Pit crew! Especially to my darling co-plotter @i-w-p-chan for getting me through this, and @selrose for bringing Noragami up! 

I cannot scream and rage like my brother, I cannot burn those who walk past my gaze, I cannot warm them, for I am cold, and only the stars breathe life into me.

Moonlight falls through the window of the grand suite, trailing over the floor, pooling in front of Yato’s bed. Silver light softly caressing his feet where his kimono parts. Glowing blue eyes glint in the dark, irises round as the full moon.

Once upon a time, Yato had a dream. To be a great god, to be revered. To have shinki kiss his feet, asking to be his. To have people flock to his many, many shrines from far and wide. To have duties, requests to do, all day long.

He is Tsukuyomi, and he has all of this.

He has done his duties for months now, day after day, Yukine at his side. Facing the crowds, the people. Granting wishes, everywhere! Rising up, above the masses. A single flick of his finger causes them to run to his side.

Just like this room, it was large, grand and empty.

Their allegiance is worth nothing. They are nameless faces, telling him nothing but what he wants to hear. They didn’t want him when he was Yato- and Yato was always Tsukuyomi, even if the Tsukuyomi of before was not Yato. A name means nothing. A name means everything.

He misses the warmth of Yukine sleeping next to him. He misses the cosiness of close quarters. He missing being only Hiyori’s god of fortune, her belief, her worship burning inside of him like a flame, lighting him up.  

He hasn’t seen Hiyori in two weeks. He longs for the brightness of the sun, the darkness of the night to dance and fight in. This palace, these expectations- they are suffocating him, drowning him in the waves of worship.

Because Yato isn’t just used to being forgotten, he’s also used to being free. The longing for the great blue sky is so utterly natural- not to have that freedom is killing him.

…Why? Why hasn’t he gone to see Hiyori? Why has he let this dream chain him down? Why hasn’t he put that arm around Yukine’s shoulder? When did he stop living for others?

He had gotten his dream, he had done his job. But just as he always knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, his dream was childish, the reality of it cold and chilling.

He has responsibilities, requests to fulfil, duties to do, but Yato is no saint. He’s a sinner with a heart of gold that’s large enough for everyone in the whole wide world- as long as they let him go.

So he runs.

Scrambling off the bed, diving into the light of the moon, he shucks off his stuffy kimono. Layer upon layer restricting his movement glides off his skin. He plucks fluffy fluff scarf from between the folds of the kimono- there was no way he was going anywhere without it. He tramples over the luxurious fabric as he runs naked through his room, feet skidding upon the marble tiles, searching for his tracksuit.

There it is, in the other corner of the room shadowed- but it shan’t remain in the shadows a second more. Silver spilling off the angles of his body like water as he puts the tracksuit on, he smiles at the moon. His realm is one of light- it is time for him to chase it again.

Cheshire grin spreading, he sneaks through the hallways, flitting from pool of light to pool of light, unable to contain the rush.

The door creaks as he slips into Yukine’s room. Jumping onto the bed, he grabs him. Yukine wakes up, red eyes widening, but Yato muffles whatever comes out of his mouth with his hand, throws him over his shoulder and drags him straight out of Takamagahara.

The bridge is for gods- but Yato has enough of ascending, all he wants is to go down like the moon sinking behind the horizon.

He throws them over the edges of the clouds, falling, falling, falling down until they’re floating and free. He crows, beaming at Yukine as they fly. Beneath them, Tokyo sprawls out, thousand glowing lights in the darkness.

The way to the house they seek is as familiar to them as the back of their hands. They slip through Hiyori’s window and jump onto her bed.

She groans, blinking up at them. ‘’What are you-‘’

“Run away with me,’‘ Yato whispers while she rubs her eyes, still half-asleep, ‘’Run away with us.’’

I’m so far removed from the earth, and while my sister takes up the sky, illuminating the dawn, I share the night with the stars. I can’t bear to be alone, you see. A cloud-covered moon is so easily forgotten.

When Hiyori was fifteen, just a few months before she met Yato, she looked at her mother and saw a stranger.

They were watching TV, just the two of them, eating dango.

There’s a talent show on and Hiyori is ready to bolt, her cheeks on fire, when a metal pole is set up in the middle of the stage for next act.

But her mother lowers her dango stick, eyes glued to the TV, and Hiyori stays. Dango is her mother’s favourite, and it’s the only sweet she indulges in. She never puts the stick down before she’s done.

The music starts and two women begin to dance- swinging between the two poles, powerful calves and arms working, sweat dripping from their brow. Her mother watches, mesmerized. Her eyes light up when they do a lift, her breath hitches as the music rises, the women seemingly exempted from gravity.

She’s so caught up in it she doesn’t even notice Hiyori’s staring at her.

The commercial break begins, and the light leaves her mother’s eyes. Hiyori wants it back. Who is this woman with wonder in her eyes? She’s never seen her mother look like that before. She bites her lip, fidgeting with the edge of her skirt.

“Did you… Did you like it?”

Her mother looks up, absentmindedly. “A wonderful performance, wasn’t it? Reminded me of my own lessons.”

Hiyori’s jaw drops. “You? Pole dancing lessons?”

Her mother tweaks her nose. “I was good at it too, you know,” she shakes her head, “but that was before your father.”

Something twists in Hiyori’s chest. This is the woman she hides her love of boxing from, afraid of her disapproval. She would freak if she knew her daughter was doing something so unladylike. Or would she?

Hiyori isn’t sure anymore, so she observes.

Her mother, who took the care of her deceased cousin’s child upon her, and fell in love with said cousin’s widower. Her mother, only 35, who had her at twenty years old. Her mother, half long, luscious brown hair and a skin smooth and young, soft as a peach.

Her father’s hairline is receding, the corners of his eyes crinkle and grey strands glisten in his black hair. The difference a decade makes is astounding.

“Do you regret it?”

The question comes out of nowhere, but her mother knows exactly what Hiyori’s talking about, judging by her shocked look. “Your father is the kindest, most caring man in the world, and there are no people I love more than you and your brother anywhere in this universe.”

Hiyori’s hands tremble as she watches the cold TV light illuminate her mother’s features. Grotesque shadows are thrown. “That’s not an answer.”

Her mother folds her hands around Hiyori’s. “I chose this. I chose to raise your brother, I chose your father, I chose to have you. I will never regret those choices, but sometimes I think I wanted too much too fast, was too desperate to be someone and married too young. But it’s far too late for that now and I love all of you dearly. I wouldn’t choose anything else, knowing it all leads to this. But, Hiyori, if you get the chance? Then run.”

She remembers these words when Yato slips through her window, Yukine in tow, and she wakes up from the cursing that ensues. Yato ignores it, however, leaning close (too close) to Hiyori’s face.

“Run away with me.”

She blinks twice before her sleep-addled brain registers his words.

Luminous blue eyes glow in the night- illuminating Yato’s pale, pearl skin and the ink locks falling around it. They fade into the darkness. Yukine is two pinpricks of small irises burning red-yellow behind him.

‘’Run away with us.’’

God, how Hiyori has missed them. It’s not like Yato has let his duties as Tsukuyomi get in the way of their friendship, but he did have duties now. Or at least, enough requests, prayers and wishes that he always had something to do. He couldn’t just go bother her anymore.

She had visited, and while Yato always made time for her, swept the papers off the table as Yukine ran to get her tea, they had felt the disapproval of the ones around them. She’d never felt quite welcome. And now, now he’s here again, offering to whisk her away into the night. Her and Yukine, Yato at their side, and this… This is how it’s meant to be. 

Her mother also told her not marry a gambler, and to avoid irritable teenage boys with short tempers, but Hiyori likes to think her mother thought run the most important advice. And if she didn’t- well, her brother had told her to live her own life, and Hiyori had no intentions of doing anything else.

She laughs giddily at her companions because the moon does not belong to the heavens, nor the earth. The moon belongs to the stars- and only with them, he shall dance.

If the sun doesn’t rise, the whole world will notice, but the absence of the moon?

She kisses them sometimes. Her boys, she means. It’s not really romantic, but not platonic either, but then again, labels never have done Hiyori any good.

It’s safe between them, the three of them draping limbs all over each other, pressing their lips together, sleeping in the same bed. And loving, loving each other so much Hiyori thinks she’ll combust from sheer love and happiness.

It’s not sexual- but whoever said love needed to be?

(Yato has responsibilities, and once upon a time, so did she. They left it all behind and ran. If anyone says they can’t, Hiyori will ask them to look her in the eye, and tell her she does not defy the laws of nature as she lifts boulders the size of empires above her head and crushes them to dust.

She is done pretending to be smaller than the grand expanse her being is)

…Mortal, beg thy lord the stars have not defied the laws of nature.

She leaves her bed, she leaves her house, and she dances in the moonlight (because Yato IS the moon), and they run away and never stay and get lost in the sway of the wind. (The moon, oh, the moon, he’s always so far away, though in the midst of his stars). And if it turns out that two decades have passed when she looks at the date on a paper one morning, and she hasn’t aged a day, then… Well, Hiyori has learned Gods have strange ways, and this is hardly a shock compared to some of the other things she’s encountered. 

She just watches them, the moon and his first star, and she falls in love all over again. With them, with the world, with freedom, who knows? Hiyori dances in the moonlight, kisses stars goodnight and the wind caresses her as if she’s the most precious thing it has ever seen. She’s the sky, wide and endless, and the sky loves everything.

[charliejrogers]

Paddington (2014)

Sometimes you watch a movie and want to be challenged. You want your head to explode. You want to get lost in a world of plot twists and double-crosses. Other times you don’t. TV more often than movies fills the role of comfort food for people looking for passive media, but let’s all take a moment to recognize the power of a good comfort movie. Sometimes your comfort movie is that dumb rom-com you’ve seen 1000 times, other times a mindless action movie of good vs. evil. Many comic book movies certainly can fall into this camp, but really any series like Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings can become comfort food whenever those fans begin to think of the characters more like old friends than avatars on a screen. And never is that more true than when a childhood friends makes their way onto the big screen.

I don’t believe I have ever read (or has someone read to me) a Paddington book. In fact, after writing that sentence I had to Google whether Paddington was a series or a single book. I’m not from the U.K. so please excuse my ignorance. It’s not that people in America don’t know Paddington he’s just not as popular here as he is across the pond. Therefore when this hit theater six years ago and I heard critics rave about it, I didn’t get it. Christ, it was even nominated for the best British film at the BAFTAs in 2015. There was Paddington, a family movie about a walking, talking bear, right next a serious drama about Stephen Hawking (The Theory of Everything) and the very adult ScarJo sci-fi film Under the Skin. Plus, think also I was at an age where I was “too cool” for kid’s stuff. I was in college, so why watch a movie that could make you happy when you could watch something that could project to others how smart you thought you were. All of this is to say that, I went into this movie without the advantage of nostalgia, something I suspected might have been boosting audiences’ and critics’ scores.

Paddington from director Paul King tells the story of one unnamed Peruvian bear who is among the last of his kind. What makes this particular species of bear so special is their uniquely high intelligence. The film starts with a black-and-white film reel documenting the journeys of the explorer who was the first among men to stumble upon this particular subset of bear, sometimes back in the early 1900s. The explorer first instinct is to hunt and kill the bear to bring back to a British museum, but he is eventually won over by the sheer intelligence of the bears. They are already master builders and have developed unique, modern-looking housing structures when the explorer first finds them, but quickly he discovers they can understand English,  can even reproduce it to some extent, and are adept at new technologies. The explorer leaves them with a phonograph and a record of him talking about how to be a proper gentleperson in London.

Fast forward some hundred years, and the original two bears the explorer essentially perfected their understanding of English based off the explorer’s record. They also know quite a bit about early 20th-century etiquette and about a hundred different ways to tell fellow Londoners that it is raining outside. And though now aged and frail, they have passed much of this knowledge onto their young nephew whose character can be summed up by the following four traits: 1) undying love for his aunt and uncle who raise him 2) utmost and strict adherence to etiquette 3) deep desire to belong to a home 4) obsession with marmelaide.

All four of those things turn out to be of vital importance when disaster strikes his home in Peru and he is forced by his aunt to seek a new home in the only other place they know: London! With only his uncle’s hat and a marmelaide sandwich on his head, the bear stows away on a freighter to London. He heads to the nearest train station as he has heard stories about how during WWI, orphaned children would show up to train stations wearing certain necklaces to signify their need for a home. The bear does just that, but the world of 1914 is very much different from the world of 2014. People don’t so much as look at the bear. If they do, they assume he’s a poor beggar, vendor of cheap goods, or just a plain con-artist. They’re too busy rushing this way and that. “In the age of technology, Britain has lost its way” the film seems to suggest. Or, more cynically, it seems to make a comment (albeit) on xenophobia and Britain’s lack of openness to immigrants, especially prominent given the distinctly colonial feel of the explorer’s documentary and his attitudes towards these “primitive” creatures.

Except, of course, this is a light-hearted family film. A fantasy film at that. For example, no one is freaked the fuck out like they would in real life by a talking bear roaming around a major metropolitan area, in some cases doing serios damage (albeit accidentally) to various property throughout town. E.T. this is not, so there’s no plotline of the government trying to snatch him up for research purposes, nor does this apparently talk place in our reality where the bear would become an instant viral internet star.

Instead, as a family film, the movie mostly focuses on the idea of “family.” The bear is eventually approached by Mary Brown (Sally Hawkins), the matriarch of the Brown family who are a well-off family who live in a cozy townhouse in a quaint London neighborhood. Mary is more empathetic to the bear’s plight than her ill-tempered husband Henry (Hugh Bonneville) who is a risk analyst who sees the bear for what he is: a risk! Still, he begrudgingly agrees to let the bear, who names himself Paddington, stay with them for one night, but then he’s off to the orphanage  institution for young souls whose parents have sadly passed on.

Mr. Brown’s not wrong about Paddington (voiced by Ben Whishaw) too. Despite his undeniably genuine nature and complete absence of my ill-will, he’s a natural klutz. His childlike innocence and curiosity finds him tinkering with things that just ought not to be tinkered leading to a movie defined by its many great misadventurous set pieces, such as when Paddington accidentally floods the Brown’s bathroom to when a pickpocket accidentally drops a wallet that he stole and Paddington begins chasing him around London in grand fashion, not understanding why the thief doesn’t want his wallet back.

More than anything, though, Mr. Brown’s hostility towards Paddington stems more from his concern for his children, specifically that his son Jonathan (Samuel Joslin) will end up being hurt either as a direct result of Paddington’s activities or will simply try more daring things inspired by Paddington’s free-wheeling and wild spirit.

What I love about the character of Mr. Brown, who truly seems to be the secondary character after the titular bear, is the way he is a true character and not a one-dimensional rule-follower. The way the film (comically) demonstrates that Henry Brown was not always Mr. Brown, but was a motorcycle-riding Wildman who was suddenly and permanently changed by fatherhood makes him an incredibly relatable character, and grounds this silly cartoon in something of a reality.

Less can be said about Mary Brown. Sally Hawkins does a wonderful job portraying her seemingly boundless kindness and love, but ultimately there’s not more to her character than just being nice and kind. Her only story arc revolves her relationship with the Browns’ daughter Judy (Madeleine Harris) who is a stereotypically moody teen who doesn’t want to introduce her boyfriend to her Mom because, as Paddington puts it, “she suffers from a terrible disease called embarrassment.”

But no one’s watching this movie to watch the Browns or learn about their characters. It’s nice that Mr.’s character is so well-established as it makes his little sacrifices and gestures to try to help Paddington so satisfying. One second he was pushing to get Paddington out of his home, the next he’s in a dress breaking into an archives to learn more about the explorer who originally visited Paddington’s aunt and uncle one hundred years prior.

This little detour to the archives relates to one of the two other sub-plots to the film. The first is how Paddington’s quest to find a new home (since Mr. Brown refuses to let him stay with his family forever) leads him to want to find the explorer (or at least the explorer’s family) since he figures they of all people would love to take in as family a bear whom their father had so loved. The second subplot (and the more hackneyed and boring plot) deals with Nicole Kidman’s Millicent, a deranged, taxidermist employee of London’s Natural History who has a nasty side hobby and collecting (and stuffing) rare animals. She hears rumors of a talking bear, she starts to hunt him. Kidman actually does a very good job leading a cartoonish seriousness to the role, but just the whole subplot feels very perfunctory, like the studio was afraid no one would want to watch a movie that didn’t have a clear bad guy. Add in a sub-plot to this sub-plot where the Browns’ sad-sack neighbor Mr. Curry (Peter Capaldi) teams up with Millicent in the hopes of being her lover, and you got my least favorite part of this movie.

Taking away the villain plot would deny the Browns the opportunity to rescue their little friend from the jaws of danger, and prevent me from seeing that tear-jerking display of love with which the film ends, so I suppose it’s worth it. With snow falling around them and love in the air, Paddington with its focus on the importance of family, is almost a Christmas movie, or at the least is a perfect movie for the holiday season.

It’s also funny for all ages. I can imagine sitting in a theater with children and hearing the little cackles of children as Paddington fights a shower head using a toilet seat lid as shield and toilet brush as sword. The film does not go for easy jokes. Its physical comedy is often elaborate, and there are plenty of jokes meant for the adults in the room that aren’t necessarily sexual in nature. For example, the Browns’ daughter is learning Chinese “for business,” which means she’s learning phrases such as “How do I get to the business center?” and “I’m being investigated for tax fraud.” But more than anything, it’s a distinctly British film in its humor, favoring throw-away lines and sight-gags over fart jokes. One of my favorites in the idea that Millicent’s office is full of taxidermied heads of exotic animals, and when she walks into her workshop on the other side of the wall, we see all the rear-ends of these same animals. Another pitch perfect moment is when a downtrodden Paddington finds himself at Buckingham Palace and having revealed the sandwich he keeps under his hat for emergencies, we find out what things the Queen’s Guard keeps under their Bearskins. It’s silly and ridiculous in a way perfect for a kid’s film.

I also love how the film gives us a view of the world through Paddington’s eyes, and I give much credit to the film’s director Paul King for translating for us through film Paddington’s essential innocence. Twice, once towards the beginning, and once at the end, the film presents us with a toy-house that is an exact replica of the Brown’s home and we can actually see the Browns walking about and interacting in this odd meta-moment as Paddington narrates their goings on and provides his interpretation of what is happening. It lends an air of frivolity to our lives. Yes, the world is sad an hard, but for those innocents, the children, it’s a world of wonder and curiosity, a dollhouse in which anything is possible.

In the end, this movie is damn near perfect comfort food. It’s family focus creates a heart-warming tale that helps tries to inspire us that, despite our splintered isolated world, the world can be a place of love and welcoming. I wish the villain weren’t such a drag, but I am happy to report that despite not having any contact with Mr. Paddington in my life previously, I fell in love with his character almost instantly and am very happy to count him among my cinematic friends and follow him on any of his next adventures.

*** 1/4 (Three and one fourth stars out of four)

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Devilish (10/10)

Summary: It all starts with a bra. Librarian Belle French is looking to start life afresh after leaving a toxic relationship. Photographer Aiden Gold is feeling old after learning he’s going to become a grandfather. Thanks to a lingerie catalogue named ‘Devilish’, a chain of events is set in motion that causes their lives to intertwine…

Rated: This chapter is E.

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[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [AO3]

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Devilish

Epilogue – Merry and Bright

If Belle had been asked six months ago what she would be doing this Christmas, the answer would certainly not have matched the reality. Sitting in Aiden’s living room, curled up on the sofa in a Christmas jumper covered in dancing snowmen with a glass of mulled wine warming her hands and Aiden’s arm around her warming the rest of her nicely, Neal and Emma and baby Henry on the other side of the room. It was the perfect picture of a family Christmas, even if Belle had only been part of the family for a comparatively short space of time. She was still not fully there yet, she felt. She and Aiden had not made any plans to move in together yet, but she sometimes felt that she spent more time at his place than she did at her own, and she found that she was all right with that. Neal had accepted her readily as a potential stepmother and after a few initial hiccups had been as warm and welcoming as she could have hoped for. Emma had been harder to convince of her benignity, but then again, Emma had been very pregnant at the time they’d first met and could be excused all manner of irrational thoughts on account of that.

And now Henry had arrived and the family truly felt complete. Belle had been dubious about coming over on Christmas Day with the new baby in the picture, wanting to give the little family the time they needed together, and it had been Neal who had re-extended the festive invitation, stating that since he and Emma would be fussing over the baby for the entire holiday, his father needed someone to talk to.

But they weren’t talking now. They were just sitting watching the lights on the tree. The TV was on low in the background; Emma and Neal had found that the soft hum of its sound helped get Henry off to sleep, although naturally the channel was changed if anything with loud bangs and gunfire came on. At the moment, they were watching the Hallmark Christmas movie channel, so there wasn’t any fear of a car exploding or machine gun fire at unexpected moments.

Aiden chinked his tumbler of whisky against her wine glass.

“Merry Christmas.”

“A very Merry Christmas to you too.” Belle finished the dregs of her wine and nestled in closer against his chest. They had exchanged gifts earlier in the day, but there was something else that she wanted to give him, something that couldn’t be wrapped up in shiny paper and exchanged with the entire rest of the family watching.

“Something tells me that it might be getting distinctly merrier,” Aiden murmured in her ear, and Belle wriggled with a mixture of anticipation and embarrassment.

“Am I really that obvious?”

Aiden nodded. “I have to say it, love, but you can’t keep a secret to save your life.”

“And there was I thinking that I was being all surreptitious and coy about it.”

Neal looked up from Henry. “I heard the words ‘surreptitious and coy’ and I began to think that maybe it’s time that we put Henry to bed,” he said dryly. “Either that, or you put yourselves to bed.”

Aiden gave a long and slightly pained sigh. “Just because I haven’t been in a relationship since you were in middle school doesn’t mean that you can take advantage now,” he complained.

“You’re kidding me, right? I missed out on all my teenage years of making fun of you, I need to catch up.”

“You’re absolutely incorrigible, did you know that?”

“Oh Dad, where’s your spirit of adventure?”

“It died long ago.”

“Hush you two,” Emma said, her voice barely above a hiss. “I’ve only just got him off to sleep and if you make me laugh now then you’ll wake him up! Come on Neal, let’s take him up and leave the lovebirds to get on with it. I feel like I could sleep for a week myself.”

Neal gave into this with good grace and good nights were exchanged. Aiden waited until the noises of movement in the house above them had died down and it was clear that Emma, Neal and Henry were ensconced in their own room and there would be little chance of interruption before he twisted to capture Belle’s lips.

“Now then, shall we begin our own little Christmas party?” he asked. There was already that wonderful huskiness in his voice that sent shivers down Belle’s spine, and she nodded eagerly.

“We’ll need to go upstairs though,” she said. “That’s where I left the final part of our present.”

“Our present?”

“Yes. I bought it for me, but you’re definitely going to get a lot of enjoyment out of it too.”

“In that case, I look forward to it immensely.”

There were a few moments of normality then, when they had to break out of their close embrace to tidy up the living room and put the house to bed, but once the lights were out and they were in the bedroom, with no noises coming from the guest room, Belle smiled again in a manner that she hoped was seductive and not just awkward. Going to bed with Aiden had been a learning curve for the both of them, really. It had been so long since Aiden had been in a relationship that he was re-learning everything over, and Belle had not had all that much experience herself. In a way they were learning their way around each other together, and Belle was very happy about that. Ever since that first time together, when things had not exactly gone as she had planned, she had never felt bad about her own sexual inexperience, and she had very much enjoyed everything that she was learning.

Six months ago she didn’t think that she would ever have had the confidence to get into bed with someone ever again, so afraid of jumping into something that she regretted on the rebound.

Now though, everything was going well. She was a part time underwear model, after all.

“Why don’t you get comfortable and I’ll show you what I’ve got?”

Aiden smirked. “Oh yes, I’m very much looking forward to this.”

Belle grabbed the discreet red carrier bag printed with the Devilish logo from where it was sitting innocently on top of her overnight bag and she disappeared into the bathroom, shaking out the contents and spreading them out on the tiled floor. She could do this. She could wear this. She might have gone completely beetroot red when she had tried it on in the shop, but that was beside the point. It was not something that she would ever have consented to wear for a catalogue shoot, but it was only Aiden who was going to see it now, and she knew that his reaction was going to be a favourable one.

Belle had never yet bought anything red whilst revamping her underwear wardrobe, stating that she’d had enough of red and black; she wanted to wear colours that she liked and that suited her. Unfortunately, like most stores, the vast majority of what Devilish offered around Christmas time was in red in some shape or form. The piece that she was putting on now had been a real find, pure white in snowflake pattern lace with little velvet bows. Ruby had modelled it for the Christmas catalogue shoot and Belle might never have come across it if her friend hadn’t quickly shown it off during the lunch break. She gave herself a once over in the mirror and tried to ignore the fact that her face was very obviously reddening before she bit the bullet and stepped out into the bedroom with a confidence that was partially fake. Do the brave thing and bravery would follow. It was the mantra that she had been trying to live by ever since she had left Gaston, and thus far it had worked out for her.

And it had worked again. Aiden was looking at her as if his eyes were about to pop out of his head, and she knew that she had made the right decision.

“Yes, I think I’m definitely going to enjoy this gift,” he said. He sounded slightly strangled, which Belle had learned was a sign that she was onto a good thing. She gave him a little twirl. He’d seen the outfit before, of course, when he’d photographed Ruby wearing it, but he’d never seen it on her. It was a baby doll style nightdress and matching panties, seemingly innocuous but for the very sheer lace, until on closer inspection it became apparent that the little velvet bows over the bra cups and panties were actually concealing the fact that it was a peephole set. Belle could see Aiden’s fingers twitching, longing to get his hands on her and undo those bows to see beneath them. Belle had liked the novelty value of being uncovered but still dressed, however loosely the term might be applied, and she sauntered over to the bed, crawling up Aiden’s body until she could kiss him deeply. He gave in readily, pulling her in close against his chest with a hungry eagerness and Belle grinned against his mouth as she felt the first stirrings of his cock against her thigh.

“This is ok?” she ventured when he finally let her up for air.

“God, Belle, this is way more than ok. You know that.”

Belle smiled. “I like to check.”

“And I love you for it.”

She had been worried when she discovered how much she liked being the more dominant partner in the bedroom, indeed, it had freaked her out a little bit that perhaps she was projecting so many years of being more submissive under Gaston out in an unhealthy way, and it had taken a lot of persuading from Ariel, Ruby and Aiden himself to talk her down from the panic she was getting herself into, that this was not toxic, that Aiden liked it as much as she did, and that as long as they communicated clearly, then there was nothing wrong with it. It wasn’t even so much a question of dominance, but of setting the pace, and that was something that Aiden was more than happy to let her do on a regular basis – something that Belle loved him for.

She leaned back in to recapture his mouth again, her tongue exploring every corner of him. He tasted of whisky, sharp and smoky, and Belle could probably have got drunk off the taste of him alone. His hand came up to cup her breast, fingers toying with the ribbon that kept the cup closed, and she pulled away, tutting.

“Not yet, Aiden. All in good time. First of all I think that we need to do something about the fact that you’re incredibly overdressed right now.”

He wasn’t as overdressed as he could have been. Belle had grown so used to seeing him in his immaculate suits all the time that it had come as a bit of a shock to her when she had first seen him wearing jeans and a sweater in off-duty mode, and she had fallen about laughing earlier in the day when she had seen him in his Rudolf Christmas jumper. Thankfully he had already taken that off whilst she was getting ready in the bathroom; she didn’t think that she would have been able to go through with the seduction had she come out of the en suite to find Rudolf staring back at her.

Together they made quick work of his shirt buttons and the thing was flung in the vague direction of the laundry hamper, before another frenzy of kisses took them over. There was more urgency now that the clothes were coming off, more unadulterated need. Belle moved away from his mouth, savouring all the little groans in the back of his throat as she kissed her way over his jaw, down his neck and over his chest, flicking her tongue over his nipples and making him gasp as they tightened under her touch. She couldn’t help grinning against his skin; Aiden’s body was like an interactive map and the more she roamed over it, the more wonderful and more expressive noises he made. His belly was quivering with the effort of trying to stay still, his hips wanting to buck up against her, and she sat back on her heels, tracing a finger down the line of dark hair that disappeared under his waist band, promising good things beneath. The bulge in the front of his trousers was getting more and more obvious with every moment, and Belle decided to take pity on him, unfastening his belt and fly and helping him wriggle the jeans off.

“There,” she said once he was down to his tented boxers. “I think we’re on more of a level playing field now. He was hot and hard beneath her as she crept back up his body, but Belle was determined to make this last for as long as possible and truly draw out this Christmas celebration as much as she could. “Now you can do a little exploration.”

He kissed her first, pouring more love and desire than she could possibly have hoped for into the kiss. Since they had taken their time in getting to know each other intimately, kissing had been something that they had partaken in often, indeed as much as possible, to sate that hunger that they both felt but didn’t quite feel ready to try acting upon again yet. Kissing Aiden was something that Belle thoroughly enjoyed, but there was more to come tonight, and they both knew that this was only the beginning. She felt his hand come up to cup her right breast, rubbing his thumb over the little bow that covered her nipple, making the bud beneath it pebble and harden, eager for his warm fingers against it directly, and she pressed her chest forward into his touch. Deft fingers plucked at the velvet ribbon and the cup fell open, Aiden’s hand covering her breast and rubbing her nipple.

“Like what you find?” she asked. Aiden nodded, lowering his mouth to her and tugging on her nipple, laving his tongue over it whilst his other hand rubbed at the other bow, eventually untying it and repeating the treatment on the other side. Belle threw her head back, her hands anchored against his shoulders feeling like the only thing that was keeping her from taking off into a little flight of pleasure. Learning to let go and give in to all the wonderful sensations had been one of the hardest things to overcome when they had begun to sleep together again after the missteps of their first night. To just focus on the pleasure that he was so artfully and generously giving her, rather than worrying about what his own reactions might be, was harder than it looked, although when he was doing that with his tongue… That made it a lot easier to distract herself from overthinking the entire situation.

“That’s it,” Aiden crooned, kissing his way back up her chest to her lips and giving her nipples a sly pinch. “Just go with it, let it come. Relax.”

She liked the fact that she could relax with him, that she truly felt safe and not like she was going to be judged for her hang-ups. Another of the things that she loved about him so very much.

There was a final ribbon holding the baby doll fastened in the front, but Aiden skipped past that one, dragging his hands down her sides and up under the hem to rest on her hips, thumbs massaging little circles there over the waistband of her panties.

“A little bit more exploration?” he suggested, getting closer and closer to the split gusset.

Belle nodded. “Oh yes, yes, please.”

“Then your wish is my command.” He grinned at her. “It is Christmas, after all.”

He cupped her mound and Belle ground down against the heel of his hand, wanting as much friction as she could get from him. One finger was stroking her along the line where the gusset was open, just about touching her through the fabric but not as near as she wanted him, and he fumbled a little with the first of the two bows, the one that sat neatly over her clit. The fabric was already damp from her juices, Belle could tell as his fingers slipped on the wet velvet. Finally it was open and she keened against him, head thrown back as he coaxed her pearl out and it swelled under his touch, circling around the little nub but not touching her directly on it. Belle closed her eyes; she didn’t think that she would be able to open them if she tried, and everything else in the room faded away as she focussed just on the wonderful things that Aiden was doing with his hand. She felt the second bow give way and his fingertip press into her entrance; she took him readily, clenching around him and wanting more, so much more.

“So wet and sweet, my love,” he murmured as he continued to pet at her inner walls, pushing up another finger inside her and curling in just the right way, a way that Belle had never been able to get the right angle on herself. His other hand was still petting at her clit, thumb stroking her firmly, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. She was nearly there, she was so close, so desperately close, and…

And now she was overthinking it all again, and pleasure began to give way to frustration as she felt that plateau come. Everything he was doing felt wonderful, but something was stopping her letting go and falling over that wonderful peak with him. She’d already accepted that she wasn’t going to have an orgasm every time they made love and that the discovery of her pleasure was still something of a work in progress, but it was Christmas and she was wearing the most audacious lingerie she’d ever owned and she’d been looking forward to this moment all day and it just wasn’t fair…

“Hey.” Aiden’s voice was soft and Belle gave a moan of something akin to annoyance as she felt the hand toying with her clit move, but then a moment later it was cupping her cheek and she opened her eyes. “Don’t think about it,” he said. “Just let it come. It won’t come if you don’t let it.”

His fingers curled inside her again and Belle shivered, furrowing her brow when he pulled them out.

“I’ve had an idea,” he said simply. “Scooch up?”

Belle glanced down; there was a dark, damp spot on the front of his boxers where his cock was already leaking pre-cum. He must have been aching for her, but he gave himself no mind and just rubbed her thigh, getting her to move up his body.

“Come up,” Aiden coaxed. “Right up.”

Belle preferred being on top, ever since that first time that had not gone according to plan. She liked the control it gave her and the fact it made her feel more like an active participant, rather than slipping back into the ceiling watching that she had always done before. As much as she liked Aiden going down on her, she was willing to sacrifice that if she stayed on top with just his fingers. Now, though, as he shifted down so that his face was between her thighs, she was going to get the best of both worlds.

“Are you sure?” she asked him.

“Very sure. I trust you not to smother me. I’ve got you. Just let yourself give in to it.”

She had come so close before that it really didn’t take all that much to bring her back into the moment after the little interruption, and the first touch of Aiden’s hot tongue against her clit was electrifying. One hand was under her bum, keeping her from collapsing down onto his face completely, and the other was pushing two fingers back inside her clutching channel, curling as he had done before. Belle grabbed the headboard, leaning on it and closing her eyes once more, letting herself go with the exquisite pleasure that she was getting from his hands and his mouth, his tongue lapping over her clit, now circling around it, now hard, now light. Her nipples were begging for touch, the lace and velvet of the lingerie teasing them in just the right way as she moved against Aiden’s mouth…

“Oh, Aiden…”

Her release was blissful, and all the more intense for its unintentional delay. It wasn’t sharp or sudden but the culmination of so much build up, a tumbling fall over an edge rather than a starburst.

“That’s it. Let go, love. I’ve got you.”

He drew his fingers out of her achingly slowly, and as he brought her back down and she flopped against his chest to get her breath back, she could see her juices glistening on his mouth and chin. There was something erotic in the sight that never failed to give her a little aftershock of pleasure as she came down into the glow.

“Happy Christmas,” she mumbled against his skin, and she felt his laugh rather than heard it.

“A very happy Christmas.”

They lay there for a moment, until Belle shifted and felt his hard length against her thigh. She reached down, opening his boxers and taking him out, stroking his blood-dark cock and feeling him twitch in her hand.

“I’ve decided I like underwear with holes in,” she said plainly, running her thumb over his flushed tip and smearing the pearly fluid. “It just makes life so much more practical, don’t you think?”

“Mm.” Aiden nodded, words evidently a bit beyond him as she tugged on his length and his hips bucked up to meet her on the down stroke. “Yes.”

Belle slipped her leg over his hip, lining them up as best she could without moving from her current position. The open ribbons of her panties kept getting in the way and in the end he had to lend a hand, but after a little more wriggling, he was sunk deep inside her, his head thrown back and lips parted in ecstasy as Belle began to move on him, rocking her hips to meet his. It didn’t take him long to come, and Belle couldn’t say that she really blamed him having been on the edge for so long. As long as he enjoyed the experience, that was what mattered, and that was the one thing that she had taken away from their love-making. As long as they had a good time, it didn’t really matter how long it took either of them to get there, if they even got there at all.

“Oh Belle.” Aiden gave a soft, sated sigh, and Belle could hear the happiness in his voice as he spoke. “You are so very wonderful, my love.”

She shifted her hips to let him slip out of her, but neither of them made any move to clean up or make themselves decent ready for sleep.

“I love you too,” she whispered.

They had a long way to go yet, and Belle knew that there would still be moments when her mind would run away with her and she’d have to talk things out with Ariel and Ruby to get her back on track. But she knew that she was moving in the right direction, and here in Aiden’s bed with his arms around her and his seed drying on her skin, she knew that she would get there in the end.

At length he shifted a little, tucking himself back into his boxers and pulling the covers up over them where the night air was beginning to chill, but he pulled her in closer to his side and did not complain when she nestled her head in against his shoulder, simply planting a kiss in her hair.

“You know, I think you ought to venture into the naughty section of the catalogue more often,” he said, flicking at one of the loose ribbons on her baby doll. Belle could only smile, a smile that became a giggle that was nigh on uncontrollable, and she had to bury her face in Aiden’s chest to prevent her from waking the whole household.

“What’s got into you?” he asked, obviously trying very hard not to laugh himself.

“Nothing, nothing. It was a long train of thought. I was just thinking about how it could have been so easy for me never to have met you, and how far I’ve come – we’ve come – since then.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Aiden said. He stroked her hair. “Sleep now, love. It’s been a long day.”

“Yes. But a good one.”

They fell into silence, still warm in each other’s arms, and Belle continued to think about the course of their relationship and all the ups and downs and doubts and moments of confidence that had brought them to this moment.

And it had all started with a bra.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Escape, pt6

Word Count: 2636 Tags: @shewhorunswithfandoms @distinguishedqueenofbooks @anyakinamidala @anotherotter @little-study-bug  @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @wanderingkat77 @bluebird214 @superwholockedbeauty @eyeofdionysus @all-time-foes @girl-next-door-writes @feelmyroarrrr @castiels-ass-butt-1967 @haven-in-writing @sistasarah-sallysaidso @dolamrothianlady @from-kitten-to-kitsune @geeksareunique

Roxanne shivered in anticipation as she zipped up her bike jacket. Peter had given her some vague direction on where the supposed spaceship was and she was equal parts skeptical and excited. But the hope that came with the excitement was overwhelming her skepticism. It made sense. His weird accent, his general naivety about pop culture. The crack about not knowing anything about music after 1989, and the fact that he still had a Walkman. He was either a serial killer with a great imagination or he was telling the truth. She had a twinge of nervousness at the thought. Maybe she shouldn’t be going anywhere with him. Maybe he was a serial killer. But he could have killed her at any point in the past few hours, so maybe he was safe. And maybe he wasn’t.

“Fuck!” She growled and threw her bike helmet onto the driveway in frustration. Peter jumped and backed away.

“What?”

“Are you a serial killer? Are you luring me away from my house to chop me into a hundred little pieces and turn me into stew?” Roxanne put the Harley between her and Peter, just to be safe. He put his hands up and shook his head.

“Not what I had in mind, no. You don’t believe me. I don’t blame you. I didn’t believe it myself when I was beamed onto Yondu’s –“

“Beamed? Like Star Trek?” Roxanne interrupted.

“Not really, no,” Peter paused, thoughtfully. “I guess more like Star Wars? Like a tractor beam.” Roxanne quirked an eyebrow in disbelief, and began to circle back to the doors of the house. Peter’s eyes followed her, but he didn’t move, recognizing that she had become fearful for some reason.

“I think I’m going to pass,” Roxanne started as she headed up the stairs. Peter tapped the side of his head and said something so quietly she couldn’t hear it. The wind in the driveway picked up, swirling leaves around in a mini-tornado. Peter’s jacket blew open. A spotlight shone down on him from up in the sky, and Roxanne ran back down the stairs into the driveway, shielding her eyes and staring into the sky.

“Son of a bitch,” she breathed. There was a spaceship hovering in the air above her driveway. The nose was pointed down, but it looked kind of like an airplane, not a spaceship. Roxanne took a few steps toward Peter. “This is your spaceship?”

“This is the Milano. Would you like to come aboard?” He held out a hand. Without looking away from the ship, Roxanne held out her free hand, and let Peter take it.

“You could still be an ax murderer, you know,” she complained. Peter laughed.

“This would be one helluva complex plan, if that were the case.” He nodded up at the ship, and a ramp descended from the back of it. He led her around to it, and walked up with her, hitting a button on the inner wall when they were inside that closed the back of the ship back up. Standing in what Roxanne assumed was the cargo bay was a raccoon in overalls, pointing some kind of weapon at her. She shrieked and stepped behind Peter.

“The fuck is with the raccoon?” She asked. Peter waved Rocket away and turned to face Roxanne.

“Rocket is okay. But he doesn’t know what a raccoon is, so maybe if you could just call him Rocket?”

“Alien. Sure. Different than I am. I can handle different. Any other crew members that are not humanoid?” Roxanne’s voice wavered.

“Well, Groot is still in sapling form, so he shouldn’t startle you too much. Gamora and Drax don’t look that much different than a human, when everything is said and done,” Peter was thinking out loud.

“Sapling?”

“He’s some sort of giant tree. Or,” Peter paused and pursed his lips, “he was. Now he’s a potted plant.”

“Right. This is not at all what I expected.” Roxanne realized she was still clinging to the back of Peter’s jacket and let go, smoothing the soft leather unnecessarily. Peter glanced over his shoulder with a knowing smirk. He reached back and took her hand, and brought her out to show her it was safe. He tilted his head toward a small tree sitting beside the cassette deck against the far wall.

“That’s Groot.” He stepped over to the stereo and plugged the iPod into it, and set one of the new playlists playing. Groot turned and looked down at the iPod, as though he was reading the display.

“That tree just moved,” Roxanne commented, stepping toward the pot and narrowing her eyes. She reached out and stroked one of the leaves on one of the stems, and could have sworn the tree purred and leaned into her.

“Because the tree is a person, you moron,” Rocket snapped and shoved her out of the way. She lost her balance and toppled into Peter, who caught her effortlessly. He slid his arm around her and watched as Groot squeaked at Rocket. It seemed like just a bunch of squawks and shrill tweets, but Rocket’s shoulders slumped and he sighed, baring his teeth. He turned and faced Roxanne.

“I am sorry that I pushed you,” he started. Groot made some more noise and Rocket sighed and rolled his eyes. “And called you a moron.”

“Well, aren’t you the nicest little tree that ever lived?” Roxanne smiled at Groot, whose tiny head turned toward her and smiled back. It was weird, but she could accept it. She rubbed under his barky chin and watched his leaves ruffle again. Rocket let out a huff of disgust and turned away, muttering.

“Why’d you bring her here, Quill?” Rocket demanded. Peter bristled and turned away from watching Roxanne with Groot.

“I felt like it,” he shrugged. Rocket’s eyes narrowed and he glared at Peter. He glanced over at Roxanne again, who was bopping her head along to the music as she talked at Groot and played with his leaves, and then looked back at Peter, who was staring at Roxanne with something that could only be described as hunger.

“You told Gamora you’d been with a Terran before!” Rocket exclaimed. “But you haven’t!”

“Shut up, Rocket,” Peter warned.

“Why would you lie about that? Humans is no different than any other alien out there. Kree, A’askvariian –“

“She is nothing like an A’askvariian!” Peter interrupted.

“What’s an A’askvariian?” Roxanne looked up, curiosity getting the better of her. The entire argument was somewhat amusing, but the vehemence with which Peter denied her similarity to another alien race was curious enough that she wanted to know.

“Green, tentacles, sharp pointy needle teeth. Not terribly attractive,” Peter explained.

“Don’t forget the gills, Quill,” Rocket added. Roxanne looked down at herself. Jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket. Seemed pretty normal. Then she looked at the raccoon, and the potted plant that the raccoon insisted was a person. And then she thought about it. To Peter, she would be more appealing for no other reason than that like attracts like. But to Rocket and Groot, she probably was pretty weird looking, with her pale complexion and abundance of weirdly coloured hair. As thought to emphasize the point, a tall, slim woman descended into the cargo area.

“Can you close the cargo bay doors so we can get out of here before someone notices us?” She bent down to glare at Rocket and Roxanne tried not to stare. But it was difficult. She was completely green. She was gorgeous. But she was completely green. She looked at Roxanne, rolled her eyes and looked over at Peter.

“Roxanne, this is Gamora. She’s one of the most deadly assassins in the galaxy,” Peter introduced quickly, before Gamora had a chance to say anything. Roxanne’s breath caught and she couldn’t help but stare at Gamora.

“Nice to meet you?” Roxanne tried. Gamora rolled her eyes again and then forced a smile.

“As Quill has assured me that his pursuit of you has nothing to do with a juvenile attempt to sleep with one of each race in the galaxy, I would suggest that if you are planning on staying on the Milano, you avoid his bunk.” Gamora looked completely forthright and Roxanne had to laugh. She glanced over at Peter, who was actually blushing, and then shot a quick look to Rocket, who had started to giggle.

“On that point Gamora, guess who hasn’t –“

Peter interrupted by leveling his phaser at Rocket. “You really want to go there?”

“What is going on down here? Gamora, you said you were going to make sure we could leave. Why is there arguing and no movement? This planet makes me nervous.” Roxanne shook her head a little, as a hulking shirtless guy came down the ladder behind Gamora. His body was covered in red, raised marks that looked like tattoos, but that Roxanne thought might be part of his natural physiology. She felt a little light-headed. That was four different aliens she’d met in the past ten minutes.

“This is Drax,” Peter announced.

“This woman is what has been preventing us from leaving Terra? I expected something more impressive.” Drax gave Roxanne a critical once-over. Roxanne felt her temper quirk and shot Drax a look.

“Look, buddy, I may not seem that fucking impressive to you, with your red and green skin and ridiculously enormous muscles, but I’m kind of a big fucking deal. The fact that I’m the lead singer in the biggest band on the planet notwithstanding, I have a Masters in Astrophysics, which means my brain is fucking huge. I’m one of only a few hundred people that could actually be exposed to a bunch of aliens and not freak out and go on reality TV claiming all kinds of violation. Instead I’m curious. About you and your stupid worlds. So maybe you should all stop being so goddamn rude to me, and just accept that yes, Pete has never slept with a Terran before and I’m probably the best goddamn woman for the job!” Roxanne stepped toward Drax as she ranted, and poked him in the centre of the chest for emphasis as she spoke. He flinched and backed away from her. He stared in stunned silence for a few seconds before speaking.

“How does your head not leak?” He asked.

“What?” Roxanne’s face was a mask of confusion.

“If your brain is huge, how does it remain constrained within your tiny skull?” He clarified. Roxanne blinked.

“His people don’t understand exaggeration, or metaphor. They’re completely literal,” Peter explained. Roxanne turned to face Peter, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

“So when I said I was in the biggest band in the world, did he think I meant there are more people in Pixie Stix than any other band?”

“Quite possibly,” Peter nodded. Roxanne leaned close to him, so her lips were grazing his ear.

“This is not really conducive to you finally getting with a Terran,” Roxanne whispered. Peter let out a soft snort of what Roxanne assumed was laughter.

“No, not really,” he agreed. “Maybe this was a bad idea.” He bit his lip and looked down at the floor. Roxanne sighed and realized they were just not going to happen. Not on a crowded spaceship. Maybe not ever. She wasn’t surprised to find she was okay with that conclusion. Peter had barely popped into her life, and now it appeared he was going to pop back out just as quickly.

“I think so. I’ll just go,” Roxanne excused herself, and stepped toward the cargo ramp. “Maybe next time you are around these parts, you could stop by and say hi.” It took most of her restraint, but she turned and walked down the cargo ramp without looking back. She paused briefly as she stepped back onto the solid ground of her driveway, but blinked, shook her head and kept walking toward the house, bending over to pick up her helmet when she passed it. She heard the mechanical grinding of the ramp pulling back up to close the hull breach and finally turned to watch the ship ascend up into the atmosphere. It shimmered out of sight, probably cloaking itself, but Roxanne could just make out the outline of it as it climbed into the night sky. She quickly dashed up the stairs to the rooftop, planning on trying to track it on its way out of the night sky, and stopped dead as she hit the top stair.

Peter was standing on the roof. She dropped the motorcycle helmet in surprise.

“But?” She pointed at the blurry, cloaked outline of the Milano. Peter shrugged and took a few steps toward her, closing the gap between them.

“Gamora said to tell you that I truly am a whore, and a terrible ambassador for Terra.” His voice was low, and there was a self-deprecating chuckle at the end of the sentence that made Roxanne shake her head.

“I’m in a business where whores are ambassadors, Pete.” Roxanne pressed her hand to his cheek, enjoying the feel of the scraggly growth that wasn’t quite a beard.

“I never liked being called Pete until you did it,” he admitted, taking a final step closer, and sliding his hand along her waist. Roxanne flushed. “I’m not as smart as you are, Roxanne. I’m probably horribly stupid compared to you, actually. I’m a thief by trade, and I have no formal education and –“

“Has that ever mattered to anyone before?” Roxanne asked.

“No. But the galaxy out there, it’s different than Earth is. Merit is measured differently, and what you’ve done is more important than where you’re from or what certificates you hold,” he explained.

“Sounds like I’d rather be a citizen of the galaxy then,” Roxanne shrugged, and looked him in the eyes. “Peter Quill, you are a spaceman. Whether or not you have a degree from a fancy university or not, what you do, every day, is what men and women here on Earth train their entire lives to do. They take advanced degrees, they are in peak physical condition, they are the smartest of the smart. Physics doesn’t work differently just because you are off-planet, Pete. The Milano is yours?”

“Yes?”

“And you’re the primary pilot?”

“Yes?”

“And you know how to enter and exit a variety of atmospheres?”

“Yes?”

“And you can navigate the stars?”

“Well, I have a nav system, but yes.”

“And you’ve walked in zero atmosphere, zero gravity, and lived?”

“Yes?”

“Can you repair the Milano if needed?”

“Yes?”

“Does it run on gasoline or some super special space fuel?”

“Super special space fuel.” His eyes twinkled as he answered.

“And you can troubleshoot any problems with the ship?”

“I already said that, yes.”

“Then you’re just as smart as me,” Roxanne stated. “So shut up.”

“Okay.” Peter just stared at her for a few minutes. She drew in a breath and looked at him again.

“And another thing, Pete,” she started. He nodded. “Why would you think that I care?”

“I –“

“I don’t,” She interrupted.

“Rox, I didn’t even finish elementary school.”

“So? I’ve never been off the planet before,” she shrugged. “Now, I’m done with the pep-talk. I’d like to get back to where we were before.”

“Before?”

“Before insecure-Pete, the earth-virgin reared his ugly head.” Roxanne wiggled her hips against his, and brought his head down to hers. Peter’s arms tightened around her, and he groaned as her lips parted. She pulled away briefly. “There’s no walls to shove me against, and this rooftop is tar and gravel. Could I convince you to join me inside?”

Peter answered by picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder fireman-style, and carrying her down the stairs to the deck off the kitchen.

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

26 Sterek

26. “According to US Weekly, we’re married.” Also on ao3!

"According to US Weekly, we're married."

Stiles punctuated his statement by slapping down a copy of the offending tabloid magazine on Derek's coffee table, none too gently. The table wobbled a bit from the amount of force he used, a steaming cup of coffee nearly spilling all over the table.

Beaming up at him from the glossy front page of the magazine was a blown up picture of him and Derek on the set between shoots. It was slightly blurred around the edges thanks to being zoomed in on so very much, proving just how much of an invasion of privacy it was.

He couldn't know for sure who had taken the photo, the article not disclosing the photographer, but Stiles had a sneaking suspicion of who it was nonetheless. He would have bet anything it was that creepy little snake Matt Daehler, the disgusting paparazzo who had made a name for himself by stalking celebrities and their families.

For the past few weeks, he had caught glimpses of someone slinking around behind the scenes, the hairs on the back of his neck rising whenever he did. Just a few days ago his suspicions that it was Daehler had been confirmed when he witnessed him lurking around one of the sets.

And now a picture of him and Derek was being circulated nationwide, various tabloids and newspapers hosting articles speculating about it. The picture was even being discussed on talk and morning shows that apparently had nothing else to talk to.

He folded his arms over his chest and raised an unamused, expectant brow at Derek who merely blinked up at him. When Derek failed to say anything, Stiles gestured emphatically down at the magazine.

In the picture, Derek was wearing one of his outfits for the movie: a dark navy blue waxed cotton jacket over a black sweater, dark jeans, black boots, black sunglasses...and a wedding ring. It was crucial to the role he was playing, the movie focusing on a single father raising his daughter while struggling with depression and PTSD.

It was sure to be a classic, full of emotional scenes highlighting the everyday challenges of life with mental illness, centering on the main character, Tyler, learning how to juggle his own issues along with his daughter's. Rather than glorify or romanticize both Tyler's mental illnesses and his self-care, the film explored the nitty gritty truth of depression and PTSD and suicidal thoughts.

However, while Derek's wedding ring was necessary for the movie, the matching ring on Stiles' hand was not.

Derek's arms were wrapped around him from behind in the picture, his ring gleaming in the sun as he smiled radiantly, his famous bunny teeth on full display. Stiles' left hand was resting on Derek's forearm as he laughed, showing off the matching silver band on his own ring finger, it too glistening in the sunlight.

He had to admit, they did look like a blissfully happy married couple hanging out on the set of a project they were both involved with. But in reality, it had just been a joke.

When the prop department had given his first ring to wear for the scene, it was a size too small, Derek unable to get it passed his first knuckle. Erica, the head of the department, had cursed and rifled through her bag to find another before hurrying away to give another actor their necklace, leaving Derek with the too small ring.

Smirking, Derek had grabbed Stiles' hand and slipped the ring on his finger instead, laughing raucously at Stiles' shocked and confused expression. Still guffawing, Derek had looped his arms around Stiles and pretended to pout about Stiles not wanting to marry him.

And now, the harmless joke between two friends was being blown way out of proportion and plastered all over the nation. It was a certifiable PR nightmare.

Already, Stiles had received calls from nearly every major magazine in the U.S. along with half of the gossip talk shows on the West Coast (not to mention all of the missed calls he had from his dad). And he was sure it was even worse for Derek and his agent, Peter.

Because Derek was one of the biggest names in Hollywood at the moment. He already had two Oscar nominees, one for best supporting actor and one for best actor period, along with three Screen Actors Guild awards.

After being a series regular on a somewhat popular show that had stretched on for seven seasons, Derek had begun appearing in movies, usually as minor side characters. But no matter what role he played, he always stole the show with his charisma and sincerity, amassing a huge following after acting in his first major length film.

He had shortly thereafter begun starring in more leading roles, his genuineness and unbelievable range, in addition to his agent's ruthlessness, allowing him to quickly become a star. Across the country, he was known for his devotion to his craft and his ability to play any part he was given.

In one of his first starring roles, he had enchanted viewers across the world with his sweet, down to earth portrayal of a nerdy author falling in love with his neighbor, a charming handyman. Then, in his next film, he terrified audiences with his bloodthirsty portrayal of a vicious, man-eating werewolf seeking revenge on the humans who had killed his family.

So while Derek was America's sweetheart, Stiles was just a celebrity business manager.

His only client was his best friend Scott, who was playing the part of Derek's brother in the movie, dedicating himself to making sure no one in the cutthroat business of Hollywood took advantage of his oftentimes naive friend. He was more comfortable behind the scenes, working somewhat anonymously in the background.

And now his face was all over the news. It was safe to say he was more than a little pissed off.

"Um, okay..." Derek answered, clearly and infuriatingly unbothered by the whole situation. Because why would he be? He was Derek freaking Hale. He had been the focus of the Hollywood rumor mill hundreds of times, none of the gossip actually true. For him, it was just business as usual.

Stiles let out a frustrated groan and plopped down in the chair across from the loveseat Derek was lounging on, burying his face in his hands. He just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide until the whole thing blew over. But he couldn't. He had too much to do.

He had interviews to arrange for Scott, along with meet and greets with fans and autograph signings, all of which were extremely necessary. Scott was still a newcomer in the business, so far his only roles being the goofy sidekick in a few TV shows and movies, but with the announcement of him starring in a movie with the Derek Hale, his future suddenly looked much brighter.

He certainly couldn't just abandon Scott to fend for himself. It would be an even bigger disaster than the picture!

"Fuck," Stiles breathed, realizing something he hadn't even considered before. He had been too worried about himself and his own reputation that he hadn't thought about Scott's. Now that he had, he whimpered, "Oh my god, this is gonna ruin Scott."

That seemed to catch Derek's attention. He sat up straighter, resting his elbows on his knees and narrowing his eyes at Stiles, tilting his head to the side. "How is it gonna ruin Scott?"

"Because," Stiles began, squeezing his eyes shut and scrubbing his hands over his face, feeling exhausted and angry and stressed and guilty. He dropped his hands into his lap afterwards, staring down at his cuticles that he had been chewing on earlier when he had first heard about the photo. "Everyone's gonna think he only got the part because we're married."

"C'mon, Stiles. It's not like anyone actually buys into this stuff," Derek said, reaching over to lay his hand on top of Stiles', giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Trying to stay optimistic, he continued on, explaining, "It's just gossip. I bet it's already old news."

Stiles abruptly stood, Derek jerking his hand back in surprise. Snatching the remote off the nearby side table, Stiles turned on the flat screen TV on the wall, clicking through the channels until he reached channel four.

Four older women were sitting at a table, an even larger copy of the picture displayed on a screen behind them, Derek and Stiles' smiles beaming back at them almost mockingly. The women were discussing how long Derek and Stiles had been married for, speculating over whether or not they had gone on a honeymoon yet.

Stiles changed the TV to channel five where the two hosts of a talk show were chattering away, this time just a picture of Stiles on display. They were discussing his career as a celebrity business manager, mentioning Scott's filmography and whether or not he attended the wedding.

The next five channels Stiles turned to consisted of much of the same, all of the stations simply accepting their rumored clandestine marriage as a fact based on one picture. Some of the shows featuring former costars of Derek who were more than happy to allude to a secret romance just for fifteen minutes more of fame.

Tossing the remote onto the chair he had vacated, Stiles crossed his arms again and wondered aloud, "What were you saying?"

Derek grabbed the remote and shut the TV off with a heavy sigh, gesturing for Stiles to sit back down. Stiles did, his frown still firmly in place as he let out another irritated huff.

"I'll have Peter set up an interview and I'll explain the whole thing, okay?" Derek suggested, curling his arm around Stiles' shoulders and pulling him a little closer, a natural toucher. And as nice as it was to have the comforting warmth of Derek against him, his arm wrapped around him tightly, Stiles jerked his head back.

"But, Derek, isn't ring a big plot point?" Stiles questioned, well aware of the fact that one of the most crucial scenes involved the main character finally putting his wedding ring back on after finally accepting that he is worthy enough to wear it after his wife's death. Both the producers and the director had sworn the entire cast and crew to secrecy, not wanting the climax of the movie to be spoiled. "You can't spoil it!"

"Then I won't," Derek said with a shrug. "I'll just say it was a joke and come up with a different reason for the rings."

"You say that like it's the easiest thing in the world," Stiles sighed almost wistfully, relaxing into Derek's arms. Resting his head on Derek's shoulder, Stiles tossed his arm around Derek's waist, scooting closer.

"It is," Derek announced easily, running his hand down the length of Stiles' arm to his hand, threading their fingers together as he pressed a kiss to the top of Stiles' head. Smiling contentedly, he leaned back against the plush cushions of the couch, running his thumb over Stiles' as he murmured, "Can't let anyone think I'm already married to my boyfriend. That'd spoil my proposal."

Three years later when Derek and Stiles actually got married, it made all the headlines again.

Drabble prompts!

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Short Story Contest Entry

Here’s my entry to @sharingwritingprompts writing contest. It was written using these 3 required writing prompts:

A crochet hook allows the wielder to snag things from other realities. 

The shy goth kid everyone teases about being a vampire is actually, literally, a vampire bat. 

Long dead philosophers are reanimated to fight crime, but they end up just marathoning episodes of their favorite TV show.

 “Detective Weber! GET YOUR DESTRUCTIVE FAIRY ASS INTO MY OFFICE NOW!”

Jennifer sighed as the gruff shout of the goblin captain’s voice broke through the sounds of light chatter throughout the supernatural police office.

This was not going to be pretty.

She stood up, brushing the honey cake crumbs off her lap and tucking her wings safely into her suit jacket. No need to add a professionalism citation on top of whatever trouble she was in now. Maybe he just wanted to yell at her for accidentally setting the records room on fire…again. She just hoped he hadn’t heard about the 5th Street incident.

“MOVE BEFORE I RIP YOUR WINGS OFF AND MAKE YOU EAT THEM!”

Jennifer winced, walking quickly, almost running the rest of the way. She tried to smile at the captain, hoping he would smile back. Instead, the goblin pointed a yellow warty finger towards the chair in front of his desk.

“You. Sit. Now.”

His face, not attractive even at the best of times, was red with rage, looking almost cartoonish.

He definitely knew about the 5th Street incident.

“Captain, whatever you heard, I can assure you…”

“Shut up, Weber.”

“Shutting up, Sir.”

He stood up and paced the room.

“Detective, why is there a Supernatural Police Force?”

Surprised that he hadn’t just started in with the screaming, Jennifer thought about his question.

“Well Sir, the SPF is there to make sure that the supernatural beings follow the rules and don’t hurt normal people. We also protect supernatural folk from other more powerful beings. “

The Captain stopped and glared at her.

“What. Else?”

She cocked her head to the side, considering her next answer.

“And look fabulous doing it?” She smiled brightly, a few flowers popping out of thin air and falling around her. Captain, not impressed by the fairy glamor, slammed his fist against his desk with a loud BANG.

“NO YOU IDIOT! THE REST IS WITH AS LITTLE DAMAGE TO PRIVATE AND PUBLIC PROPERTY AS POSSIBLE!” He threw up his hands. “It’s part of the SPF creed! It’s on our freaking sign!”

“I knew that Sir” She lied, trying to look innocent.

“No, Weber. You don’t know that. If you did I would not be getting calls about a DRAGON being summoned and destroying an ENTIRE BLOCK!”

He was shouting again, but Jennifer refused to shrink back, continuing to meet his gaze calmly.

“It was a Wyvern not a Dragon, and it took down a ring of magical artifact thieves, first of all! Secondly, sir, it was more like three-fourths of a block…but I see your point.” She quickly backtracked, seeing the murderous light in his tiny black eyes.

“I will definitely try harder in the future. “

“It’s not that easy this time.” The goblin sighed, rubbing his face in a frustrated manner. “Look, you’re a great detective, and with recent events I need every officer I got. Administration is on my back, Weber. They want me to confiscate your weapon.”

“THEY WHAT?!” She stood up in a panic, backing up until her back was flush with the office door. Her hand went to her waist and clutched at her wand.

A fairy was nothing without her wand. Jennifer had gotten hers when she first came of age 5 years ago. Her father, who had also been an SPF officer, although now retired, presented it to her.  At the time she had been mildly disappointed. Fairy wands came in all shapes and sizes, no two were alike in appearance or abilities. Hers was a small golden crochet hook, rather unimpressive in appearance. The abilities it provided, however, more than made up for that. The hook allowed her to snag things from other realities, from small things like a cup of magical coffee, to much more powerful things, like the wyvern earlier today. So maybe that had been a bit much, but would they really strip her of her powers due to one…ok, several mishaps?

“If you take my wand, sir, you condemn me to the Dark Fae.” Jennifer’s voice sounded much more calm than she felt. Becoming Dark Fae meant losing a vital piece of her soul, the part with love and hope and happiness. Only anger and despair would remain. She had seen Dark Fae before. There was nothing of the light left in their eyes, only a desire for vengeance.

“I know, that’s what I told the board. They backed off for now, but one more misstep and I won’t be able to protect you anymore.” His voice softened as much as was possible given that goblins really didn’t DO comforting. It wasn’t in their nature. “I don’t take joy in scaring you, Weber. I need you to take this seriously.”

She nodded, still sweating from the near heart attack his threat had caused her.

“I will. “

“Good, now lets get back to business, I have an assignment for you and your partner.” He turned towards the door and she winced as he shouted “PETRAUSKY! MY OFFICE NOW!”

There was an awkward silence as he waited for my partner to run in.  When he finally arrived, he was wheezing a bit and gasping for air, one pale hand clutching the door.

“Sorry…that took…so long.” He struggled to catch his breath, “Running…harder than flying.”

The Captain smiled, an expression much more terrifying than it should be.

“That’s okay detective, take your time. I’ll start briefing you both once you’re ready.”

Jennifer snorted indelicately, and the Captain glared at her.

“Unlike some people I could mention, Detective Petrausky is always setting a good example, on time, never destroys things, never talks back.” He sighed wistfully, “If only ALL my detectives were that easy to manage.”

She swept her hair back, snagging a mocha latte from an alternate reality where coffee is an art form, and slouched back in her chair. “If we were all easy to manage you would be bored.”

Her partner Alex slowly raised his hand, preventing further argument. “I’m ok now. Thanks for being patient.” He was a slim, short young man, with pitch-black hair that fell messily in his face. He wore tight all black clothes that only further emphasized his pale skin, and sunglasses that protected his eyes from the bright lights in the office. Jessica knew that in high school he had been teased a lot and called a vampire because of his gothic appearance, but they were wrong about that.

Pretty close to the truth, but not quite accurate.

The Captain threw a file onto his desk in front of them, starting the briefing. “We’ve found three dead bodies of high profile supernatural beings within the last week.”

The detectives opened the file, and despite all she had seen over the past few years, Jessica couldn’t help but wince at the gruesome pictures. Each of them were sitting in a chair, slouching. If not for the large holes torn into their throats, you could almost pretend they were just watching television. One was a werewolf, his golden eyes glazed over with the haze of death, claws partially extended from the tips of his fingers. Another was an ogre, the large stone-like creature sprawled in the large armchair with a slightly surprised look on his face. The third one was a fairy, crystal tears dried on her violet skin, one wing bent and slightly broken. They all should be powerful beings in their own right. It was strange to see one murdered, even stranger that all three would be killed within a week of each other.

“Did they have anything in common?” Jessica asked, closing the file slowly, blocking the gruesome pictures from sight.

The goblin grunted, lighting up a cigar from a match struck against the “no smoking” sign the janitorial staff had left on his desk.

“All different species, but they were all working on the same project: The Dark Fae rehabilitation project.”

She sucked in a breath, ignoring the stench from the cigar smoke. She had heard of the project, everyone had.  A charitable organization with the sole purpose of trying to guide the Dark Fae back into the light. She thought it was a fool’s errand, a waste of time. She more than anyone knew that once you became Dark Fae, there was nothing left. You could never trust a Dark Fae, because they never changed. Some might say she had trust issues, and they would be right. Having your mother try to kill you will do that to you.

Putting thoughts of her Dark Fae parent aside, she focused on the information before her.

“Do you think the Dark Fae are behind it? They wouldn’t like the kind of work that organization does.”

The Captain nodded at her words. “Seems likely, but it would have to be one powerful creature to take out supernatural beings like that. I want you two on it 24/7 until you have answers, you hear me? There’s already bad press in the making with three dead bodies so quickly. I DO NOT want a fourth.”

He turned to Alex, pointing the cigar in his face, spraying ashes on the carpet. “Petrausky. I want you to infiltrate the organization, gather information on who the top people are and who might be next on the target list. “  He turned to Jessica next, growling when she snagged an ash tray from another reality and shoved it into his hand.

“Weber, I don’t care how you do it, but go find some Dark Fae and MAKE THEM TALK. I don’t want to hear about any more property damage either, so keep it subtle. “ He paused, snorting derisively. “Or as subtle as you are capable of.” He swung around, putting his back to both of them. “Dismissed.”

They walked out of his office, and Jessica noticed that Alex seemed pretty worked up. He looked up at her, frustration obvious even if she couldn’t see his whole expression behind the sunglasses. “He doesn’t trust me! It’s always stupid reconnaissance mission, running and hiding crap! I never get called in to do the cool stuff like you. I’m dangerous too you know!”

Jessica put a hand on his arm. “Woah there, buddy, I know you can fight, but we stick to our strengths. With your abilities, you are able to get in and out of buildings without anyone knowing. You hide in small spaces and no one knows you’re there. Me? Not so much.” She laughed at herself “Like the captain said, subtle really isn’t my thing.”

Alex didn’t seem pacified, he just stomped off, muttering to himself. As he reached the doorway, the air around him shimmered, and he assumed his other form.

Alex wasn’t a vampire. Vampires were evil, soulless creatures. Consumed by hunger for blood, they were far from the cultured, articulate versions in movies. Instead they more like robots, programmed with one and only one function: destruction. Fortunately they were rare, but the Dark Fae often tried to cultivate them for their own purposes. So despite looking like he stepped out of a bad teen vampire romance novel, Alex was NOT a vampire. He was, however, a vampire bat shifter. A were-bat, if you will. His tiny size and ability to fly made him perfect for information gathering, even if he wished he were larger and more intimidating.

Jessica frowned as she watched him fly off. He had been a lot more irritable lately, getting more and more frustrated with what he saw as the “sidelines” roles. She made a mental note to put aside some time to talk with him, give him a pep talk, even if she sucked at doing stuff like that. Putting the problems of her partner aside for the moment. Jessica started towards the “Intelligence” part of the SPF building.

It was time to find a Dark Fae.

The Intelligence section was in a dark abandoned wing of the building. No heat or air conditioning was wasted on this part to save on costs, it wasn’t like they would notice. Jessica could hear the shouting before she even opened the door.

“NO YOU FOOLS, ROSS AND RACHEL OBVIOUSLY ARE SOUL MATES AND WILL GET TOGETHER!”

Jessica sighed as she entered, encountering the three angry zombies within, arguing in front of an old TV set. Descartes as usual was talking. “I cannot believe we are still having this argument, Nietzsche, mon ami. You must accept the truth!”

The German philosopher snorted, twirling his great mustache with one decaying finger. “Nein, Descartes. You will sooner convince me that God exists than that Rachel and Ross will become a couple. You are lost in illusion.”

“What is illusion, though? How can you say what is real and true and what is not?”

Plato ignored the argument, staring at the TV where an episode of Friends was still playing. Of the three re-animated philosophers, he was the most decomposed, mostly just dead skin and bones, his lidless eyes wide as they remained fixed on the screen.

“Foolish argument,” he muttered, “It is all shadows upon a wall.”

“SHUT UP PLATO, we told you it’s a television!”

“That’s not what I…”

“GENTLEMAN!” Jessica shouted to be heard over the argument. “I need some help!”

All three stopped to stare at her. The Intelligence section of the SPF had been good in theory. Reanimate the world’s greatest philosophers and apply those minds to solving crime. Unfortunately upon being reborn into the modern world they quickly got addicted to 90’s sitcoms, and spent most of their time marathoning them and arguing plot points. Currently they were on the show Friends, and nothing productive had been done since they started. The SPF had given up on them becoming an active part of the force, but they still read through intelligence reports from informers and could sometimes provide some good pointers to push an investigation in the right direction.

Jessica quickly explained the case and her assignment to the three zombie philosophers.

“Any chance you guys know where I can find a Dark Fae who I could convince to help me out?”

Descartes stared at her, “So you need our help?”

Jessica didn’t like the tone he used, “Yes?”

Nietzsche grinned, showing off rotten teeth, and joined in. “What is this information worth to you?”

“How about a Season 4 DVD set? You won’t have to wait until the end of the month for your paychecks to buy the next season.”

The two philosophers discussed it quietly. Plato continued to disregard everyone.

“Season 4 AND 5.” Nietzsche announced finally.

After much haggling, they finally came to an agreement on special edition DVD set of season 4 with director’s commentary. They handed her a piece of paper with the name and location of the lucky Dark Fae she owed a surprise visit to. As Jessica left she heard Plato grumble: “Phoebe is the best character anyways.”

She quickly walked out of the building trying to ignore the sounds of angry shouting.

After a quick stop at home to change into more appropriate clothing, Jessica made her way to the nightclub Glow, a special nightclub that catered to supernatural beings. Even if normal humans wandered in, they would given a memory wipe and dropped off at home, thinking they had drunk too much. Jessica wasn’t a big fan of the club scene, being more of a coffee fan. She frequented places like Witches’ Brew the coffee shop with late hours for supernatural creatures.  Glow was the place listed on her piece of paper, however, so she braced herself for the noise, nodded at the bouncer, who was a golem friend of hers, and entered the club.

Even though she was prepared for it, Jessica still winced at the loud music. The Sirens must be performing tonight. She quickly scanned the crowd, ignoring the variety of shapes, sizes and species that filled the room. Finally she spotted the Dark Fae in the corner, clutching a drink and chatting up a ghost.  The signs were subtle: the fairy’s skin was a little too pale, the hair a few shades darker than was normal, the nails were longer and more pointed and when he smiled his teeth were slightly pointed as well. The real clue, however, was the eyes. Black irises, blending in with the pupils, made the fairy frightening to look at, as if all that existed on the inside was emptiness and darkness. Jessica brushed away a ghost of a memory, her mother staring at her with dark eyes, holding a bloody knife. Now was not the time to deal with childhood trauma. She had a Dark Fae to catch.

She camped at the bar on the other side of the club, waiting for the right time to strike. Finally when the dark fairy stood up, obviously looking for a restroom, Jessica followed closely and silently. When they turned the corner out of sight of the main crowd, she grabbed her target, striking him on the head and pulling him into the janitor’s closet.

With the fairy unconscious, Jessica quickly bound his wrists with silver wire to one of the supply shelves, locked the door behind her, and sat down. He awoke a few minutes later with a hiss, baring his pointed teeth at her. Jessica expected this, however, and responded with a punch to the face. The silver knuckles she wore on her right hand burned his skin on contact.  He howled in pain, the sound obscured by the loud music outside the closet.

Silver and sunlight: the two things Dark Fae hate the most. Any contact would hurt them, and although they were normally rapid healers, silver burns took a long time to fade, and were very painful.

The Dark Fae fell silent, glaring at her balefully. On his cheek the imprint of her knuckles could be seen, bright red against the pale skin.

“I’m looking for some information.” Her captive chuckled, but she ignored it, “People in the Dark Fae Rehabilitation Project are dying, and I need to know things. Who is doing it, why are they doing it, and where is the next target?”

“Why should I help you?” He spit at her, a small amount of bloody phlegm clinging to Jessica’s jacket. She sighed, taking off the soiled piece of clothing. She LIKED that jacket. She had pulled it from an alternate reality which, unfortunately, no longer existed, so no chance to replace it even with her powers.

“You are going to help me because if you don’t I will hurt you… badly.”

The Dark Fae laughed. “You don’t scare me, fairy! I’m not afraid of death.”

Jessica’s eyes were darker then normal as she used her wand to snag a silver mace from another world, testing a few swings in her hands.

“You should be afraid, dark one. There are many things worse than death.”

Fifteen minutes later Jessica left the club, armed with new information. She had let the Dark Fae live, although he wouldn’t thank her for it. She pushed what had happened in that closet out her thoughts, knowing it would haunt her regardless. Sometimes she wondered if she wasn’t more like her Dark Fae mother than she thought.

She called the chief, setting up a projection spell for communication. His ugly face appeared before her, eyes narrowed. “Weber, REPORT!”

So much for pleasantries.

“There is an assassin, hired by the Dark Fae to take out the leaders of the rehabilitation project. My informant didn’t know the name or location. The next victim will be a lion shape-shifter named  Hormandy who will be attacked before morning. We need to place him in protective custody NOW!”

The captain stared at her, unimpressed. “That’s not what your partner found.”

“What?”

“It was an inside job. Some goblin, Orlack, was fired from the project last week. He was overheard planning his next attack for tonight by Detective Petrausky. It actually has nothing to do with the Dark Fae.” He shook his head, “It sounds like a simple revenge motive.”

Jessica was confused, her methods may have been… questionable, but she had a truth detection spell in place the entire time. The Dark Fae may have wanted her dead the entire time, would lie through his teeth given the chance, but the information he gave was solid.

“I don’t think we should count the Dark Fae out entirely, boss. It may be this goblin, but he’s got to be working with them.”

“Weber, we’ve got the guy. Meet the team outside the address I send you. By the time you get there we’ll have a warrant ready to take this scumbag down. “

She didn’t want to argue, but felt she had to say something. “What about the target, Hormandy? He could be in danger!”

The captain growled. “He won’t be if we get this guy. Now meet us at the house, Weber. No detours.”

“But…”

“NO. DETOURS.” With that he cut the call short.

Jessica stared at the now empty space in front of her. She wasn’t sure how Alex’s information fit in with hers, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something. Her gut told her to follow the lead, but she was already on thin ice with the Captain. If she disregarded a direct order… Jessica shuddered at the thought of her wand being taken. She didn’t know what to do.

The room was dark, the only light being from the moon filtering in from the window. A figure sat in a large armchair, barely visible. All was still, a sense of anticipation hung in the air. A small breeze shifted through the rooms, a shadow detaching itself from the ceiling, coming to stand behind the chair. It extended claws, the white glint of giant fangs the only warning of the coming strike.

It was enough.

Suddenly the room was filled with a bright light. The creature screamed in pain, cringing away, but unable to escape. Jessica stood up from the chair, holding a silver sword. She was glad she had thought to snag UV lamps and place them all around the room; it was definitely doing some damage.

“Hormandy is in hiding, assassin.” She sneered, using the tip of her sword to flip the attacker over. “Let’s see who you really a…”

She stopped, and the world seemed to stop with her.

Not a faceless assassin. Not some random Dark Fae.

“Alex.”

Looking even younger as he cowered on the floor, hissing as the UV light slowly scorched his skin, Alex glared up at her, giving her the first true glimpse of his eyes in a while.

The irises were black.

Jessica cursed, angry at herself for being fooled. She had believed him when he started wearing the sunglasses for “light sensitivity, because she had wanted to believe him.

“You’re Dark Fae.”

It wasn’t a question.

He laughed at her bitterly, “What? Sad they took your little buddy away? You wanted me to be WEAK. You kept trying to protect me! They took me seriously. They gave me REAL power!” His smile revealed large fangs, almost too long for his mouth.

“Vampire!”

Jessica spit the word out, revolted. It was a bad joke, the vampire bat shape shifter becoming an actual vampire, but the punch line was the real killer.

“Now that you’re infected, the virus will take you over. It will turn you into a mindless killing machine. Oh, Alex what have you done?”

The sword in Jessica’s hand trembled as she fought back tears. Her friend was gone. The dark had taken over and there was nothing left of the smiling young partner she’d grown to care for like a brother.

Alex saw her hesitation and seized the chance. Knocking her over he jumped to the ceiling, crawling towards the window and away from the burning rays of the UV lamps. He flipped over the ledge, hanging for a moment over a 10-story drop, and smiled at her.

“By the way, your mom says ‘hello!’”

With that he disappeared, a small bat flying off into the distance.

Jessica stared after him, her heart heavy at the words her former partner left behind.

Mom is back, huh? The thought had her gripping the sword in her hands tightly, wishing for something to swing at. She looked around at the now-empty room in dismay and tried to cheer herself up. She may have disobeyed a direct order and let the assassin escape, but she DID save the next victim, and with minimal property damage!

With that thought the room was plunged into darkness as the power went out, and a quick glance out the window confirmed it was the whole city block. All the otherworldly UV lamps she had snagged had probably messed up the power grid. Jessica supposed they weren’t actually meant to be used in this universe.

Captain’s going to have a field day.

Jessica trudged down the steps, grateful for the long walk towards the SPF office downtown. It would give her some time to process all that had happened, and what had to be done next. One thing was for sure, though, with Alex and possibly her mother still on the loose:

This wasn’t over.  

[spicyskilletsauce-blog]

Simmer, Chapter 11

Note: this story includes depictions of contestants on the reality TV show Top Chef. This story is not intended to depict any real-life actions or sexuality of the people portrayed.

M/M Explicit sexual content.

Trigger warnings: non-consensual sex.

11. Dream Team

So much could change over the course of a challenge. That was one of the weirdest things about being on Top Chef. One day, you’re questioning not only your ability for that challenge, but your ability overall. As if all the years of training and all your interest in technique and being your absolute best came down to a single moment, and that single moment was found wanting. And then the next day, you’re riding the highest high, as if you’re in a hot air balloon, surveying the world below, and it’s a little scary because there’s no tether and the balloon might start deflating at any second … but it’s exhilarating, too. It confirms everything you’ve ever done in your career and before.

Joe Flamm stood face to face with the judges and actual Olympians, basking in the adulation from all, knowing that it wouldn’t last, knowing that it couldn’t last, but also knowing it was okay to take pleasure in your win. There’s a finite number of these on any given season, and when your cooking is good enough to make the judges give one of those wins to you … well, you’re allowed to hold onto that for a little while.

The funniest part was that this wasn’t even a win for Flamm himself. After the long night of moral support for Bruce, whose baby was born in the wee hours, he’d managed maybe four hours of sleep before Padma came knocking at Top Chef House. She and Brooke – the winner from last season – dumped a Quickfire on them before they’d even had coffee.

Still blitzed from lack of sleep (and, let’s be honest, lack of Sasto, who had fallen asleep early the night before), Joe had tried a Nutella banana coconut stock with which to make oatmeal, and the fact neither Padma nor Brooke received it with a rousing hooray didn’t really surprise him. He was exhausted, a little on edge … and horny as fuck. His eyes kept cutting to Sasto, who offered him a tired half-grin every time. There was something in his eyes this morning, something wicked, and Joe couldn’t wait to get him alone to hear what it was. Whatever shift was happening in him had to be fully complete by this point, right? Until last time, the sex had happened when it happened, on a fairly regular basis, so he’d never had the time to really miss it.

He missed it now, and for the first time, he found himself craving Sasto before even getting him naked and alone. It was as if the moments with Sasto (and that one time with Tyler) were elevated extra moments, situations outside his normal world. Now, though, those moments were bleeding into his normal world, his ordinary self. It was no good thinking of his time with Sasto as something he could compartmentalize, and set far away when he wasn’t actually, like, inside the guy.

And it’s not just sex, he thought briefly, looking him up and down; Sasto wore the bear slippers that the Top Chef producers had provided, just as he did, just as Tyler did, just as Bruce did. There were a lot of jokes about Joe Sasto being the “baby bear” of the house, and Sasto seemed to have taken to the distinction with relish. And those slippers, which Flamm had caught him dancing around in while he grilled outside. Am I falling for him? Oh fuck, is that what’s happening?

After the Quickfire winner had been announced – Carrie, again – three former Olympians had shown up to lay out the rules of the Olympic-themed Elimination Challenge. That was another wild thing about Top Chef: at any moment, you could be sleeping soundly, then wake up to make breakfast for a past winner, then be confronted by three Olympians while you stood on the front lawn in your bear slippers in Denver, Colorado. Weird world.

“For this challenge, you’ll be in teams of three,” Padma said, and with no preamble, Flamm turned to Joe and Bruce.

“Bears?” he asked.

“Bears!” the other two agreed at once, and all three put arms around one another. The smell of cooking was in the clean, fresh air. One hand was on Bruce’s wide back, the other on Sasto’s smaller, more muscular one. They touched foreheads and Flamm thought: This is what I like. This is who I am. He closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the moment.

* * *

That moment seemed to carry throughout the day. After the shop, while the others prepared a surprise baby shower for Bruce, he and Joe Sasto kept him at the dining room table, talking about being a father and all the changes that were coming.

“It’s a little overwhelming,” Bruce said, reaching out and grabbing each of their hands. “What if I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Flamm glanced down at Bruce’s hand on his, then up at the man’s face. His beard was as wild as his hair today. Uncontrollably, he found himself wondering if Bruce was hairy all over, like Sasto was. God, what was with him today? But before he could chase down the rabbit hole with the question, he looked back down at Bruce’s hand, which hadn’t moved. Flamm realized he liked it there, like the rough feel of Bruce’s palm against the back of his hand.

Then it was gone and they were heading to the living room for the surprise party. It was one of those moments Joe was most happy to be here, to be part of a camaraderie that you didn’t always feel when you were the lead guy in a restaurant. Once, back in high school when he’d first dreamed of opening up his own place, he’d thought, If it’s lonely at the top, I don’t care. All that matters is being at the top. Now, he wondered. It was a hell of a weird place to wonder, given the nature of the show – literally called Top Chef – he was on. But as the party went on, he kept looking toward Sasto and realizing that he hadn’t felt lonely here since that first night. And he thought of Bruce’s hand on his, and wondered if Bruce might not be lonely.

And yet, the elimination round had felt anything but. Sasto and Bruce had stepped up, and the easy, almost eerie sense of togetherness had pushed them over the top. It was an Olympics-themed challenge, and standing together with Bruce and Sasto, wearing gold medals and grinning at Padma and Tom and the other judges had felt like more of a victory than usual. This was the first time he’d been at the top in this competition, and sharing it with the other two didn’t dampen the feeling one bit. In his excitement, he wanted to grab Sasto and kiss him, deeply, celebrating the moment as intimately as they could. He wanted to tell Sasto that he knew that he could do it – hadn’t he said so? They did it together.

But as they headed back to wait for the official Judges’ Table, Sasto took him aside, looking concerned. It wasn’t the look the man had had the other day when he was worried about having just scraped by on the last challenge. It was a different sort of concern. After a moment, Flamm gleaned the difference: it was concern for him, Flamm.

“What?”

“Promise me you won’t freak out.”

“Well I can’t promise until I know what I’m not going to freak out about.”

“Bruce … did something to me last night.”

“Something? What kind of something?”

Sasto filled him in the best he could, telling him how he’d come awake with Bruce looking down at him, and had decided to keep pretending to sleep as Bruce moved his hands all over him, getting him off deftly after cumming across his body.

Flamm measured him with a look. “Are you freaking out?”

Sasto shrugged. “Bruce has kinks. We all do.”

“Yeah, but it’s like … he did stuff to you without asking you first.”

Grinning, Sasto said, “Like the time I ate your ass with Tyler sleeping below you?”

Blushing, Flamm stammered, “O-okay, that’s a good point. It still feels weird, though.” Coming around to the idea that he liked all this stuff hadn’t brought him around to actually talking about it directly; that was probably always going to be difficult.

“I know. And I don’t know if I want him to know we know. I was kind of into it, him doing it all nervous.”

“I wonder if he’d do that to me.” He thought about Bruce’s hand, and wondered what that rough skin might feel running over his belly, and down at his balls. Instantly, he was hard in his jeans.

“Stop wondering,” Sasto said, patting the sudden bulge. “We’ve gotta go be on TV.”

And they had, and they’d obviously won, and while it was sad to see Tanya go, all Flamm could think was how happy he was that Sasto and Bruce had elevated him, and that he’d elevated them. And back in the Stew Room, he let himself wonder about what Bruce might do to him while he was sleeping. Crossing his legs to hide his erection – and whatever wet spots he was making in his pants – his eyes drifted from Sasto to Bruce and back again. Why hadn’t he kissed Sasto when the two of them had been alone? He’d had the perfect opportunity. With every ounce of willpower he had left, he forced himself to not do it now, as badly as he wanted to. Those wicked eyes, still somehow guileless, above that absurd mustache that managed to be adorable.

Night came quickly, though, and though he’d made strides in initiating this stuff recently, he hoped Sasto would come to him tonight. In fact, he was counting on it. He had an idea, and he thought Joe Stache would go along with it. He propped himself up on an elbow and looked over at the other bed, where Bruce was snoring lightly. He hadn’t worn his CPAP machine tonight, and in the light coming through the window, Flamm could see his whole face, resting and calm. Bruce’s mouth was slightly open, and Joe’s thoughts kept drifting to the idea that someday, in some capacity, he might put his dick in that mouth. The idea drove him crazy.

Then his door was opening, and Joe Sasto, fully naked, stepped inside. It was a wonder to see that body, rippling with muscles, covered with hair, his dick heavy and dangling. Bruce was sexy, big and hefty with a manly beard and a killer smile, but Sasto really was something else.

He climbed out of bed, erect to the point of bursting, and crossed the room to where Sasto stood. Without thinking, he picked Sasto up under the arms, and drew him close. Sasto’s legs wrapped around Flamm’s lower back, his hands laced around his neck, and without a word, Joe Flamm kissed him. It was the kiss he’d been waiting for all day, deep and sensual, the taste of Sasto’s tongue sweet and mellow. He could live inside that kiss. All he wanted from this night was to hold Joe Sasto like this, close like this, and taste his tongue, and never let go.

But reality being what it was, his arms couldn’t hold Sasto more than a few minutes. He set him down on the ground and looked down at him.

“You wanna get weird?”

A slow smile crossed over Sasto’s face, as Flamm started to undress. “What do you have in mind?”

Showing was better than telling, and once his underwear had joined the puddle of clothes on the floor, he moved to the other side of the room, where Bruce slept. Finding a small section of bed Bruce wasn’t taking up, Flamm sat, naked, and smiled up at Sasto. Sasto’s eyes went wide and his eyes drifted toward Bruce’s face. The man hadn’t woken. He still snored lightly. A devilish grin blossomed on Sasto’s face, and Flamm pointed toward his erection, which jutted up hard and ready in the cast moonlight. Sasto didn’t need to be told twice. As quietly as possible, he fell to his knees and started working Flamm’s cock. Just the tip at first, getting it wet, then dipping down further, punching it deeper and deeper into his throat. Electric pulses shot up from the base of Flamm’s cock and up through his body. Sasto’s tongue kept working, licking, slathering the underside of Flamm’s dick, targeting the sensitive areas and making Flamm moan lightly. He shifted a little and felt Bruce’s thick arm against the small of his back. The man’s arm hair brushed lightly against the thatch of hair in the low hollow of Flamm’s back; the pleasure in it was unexpected, quietly thrilling. Flamm’s cock grew harder in Sasto’s throat, and he felt even more precum gush out of him.

When Sasto came up for air, Flamm took him by the elbows and brought him to a standing position, indicating Bruce’s sheet. Fear coursed through his belly, mingling with a dark excitement. This was all so wrong, but Bruce had opened the door to it. Maybe he’d been jealous when he’d heard about what Bruce had done the night before, but now thinking about it turned him on. If only he’d been there to see Bruce jerking Sasto off, believing he was completely asleep. The thought made his balls churn and his cock throb. What was happening to him? And did it ever have to end?

Together, the Joes pulled Bruce’s sheet down, finding him wearing only a tight pair of white briefs. Flamm noted with some satisfaction that Bruce was indeed as hairy as Sasto; the hair was just spread out more. He laid a light hand on Bruce’s exposed belly, loving the feel of that hair on the gentle swell of Bruce’s stomach. Very lightly, he dipped his finger into the hollow of Bruce’s navel, and wondered what it would be like to dip his tongue in there.

Then Sasto grabbed his cock, breaking him out of his reverie. After growing so familiar with Sasto’s tight little body over the past weeks, being presented with something entirely different was mesmerizing.

“What are we gonna do, Joe?” Sasto asked, and Flamm loved the glint of excitement in Sasto’s dark eyes.

“Grab the side of the bed,” Flamm instructed, and just as Sasto was laying his hands where Flamm had just been sitting, Flamm gently touched his shoulder. “No. Other side.”

Sasto only stared at him a moment, then smiled. “You’re crazy.” But he didn’t protest one bit. As cautiously as he could, Joe Sasto stretched across Bruce (still gently snoring) and grabbed the corner of the bed on the other side. That hair thing again: Sasto’s thick body hair tangling in Bruce’s, their bellies touching, Bruce dead asleep. This was too fucking much to take. Joe Flamm spit on his hand and rubbed it down his shaft, aiming at the entrance to Joe Sasto’s hole. Far more gently than the time before, he eased himself into Sasto’s ass. On the other side of Bruce, Sasto groaned deeply, louder than Flamm expected. He glanced down at Bruce, still sleeping. Good. Good. He grabbed Sasto’s hips and pulled out a little, shoving in harder the next time. Sasto’s resulting groan was quieter this time, but it spread out, like an animal’s low growl.

Hold off, Flamm told himself, knowing he could do no such thing. He was fucking Joe Sasto on top of Bruce, deep inside him as Sasto brushed back and forth against his sleeping skin. Sasto’s hole was so tight, gripping his thick cock, seeming to yank him back every time he tried to pull out; without even meaning to, Flamm sped up, making every thrust count, trying to get deeper each time, constantly looking down at Bruce’s face to see if he was still asleep. The man’s mouth was open, his eyes closed, the fricative ratcheting of his snoring driving Flamm wild with the fear of what they were doing and the thrill of getting away with it.

“I’m gonna cum,” he grunted to Sasto. “Oh God, I’m—”

“On him,” Sasto whispered back. “Do it on him!”

That delicious electricity was building up in his balls and at the base of Flamm’s shaft. As badly as he wanted to cum in Sasto’s ass, he did as instructed, pulling out and aiming at Bruce. It only took a single yank for the building pressure to finally explode … and explode it did. Thick ropes of semen shot out of him as his whole body convulsed. Cum shot across Bruce’s wide chest and into his wild beard; Flamm could only stare, wonderingly, stunned at what he’d done and stunned that he’d put that there.

Then Sasto was up next to him, taking his hand and guiding it to his ass. Still staring at the cum in Bruce’s beard, Flamm took a moment to grasp what Sasto wanted. Understanding walloped him, and he snaked one of his thick fingers into Sasto’s hole, still warm and open from where his cock had been a minute before.

Sasto stood almost straight as Flamm jabbed his finger in again and again, deeper, finding the places inside that make Sasto groan and grunt. All the while, Sasto worked his enormous dick, jerking it with a frenzy that seemed almost violent. Then, Sasto’s other hand came back and clapped on the side of Flamm’s leg. A thick, guttural sigh escaped him as he grew almost entirely still; then with one final slow stroke of his hand, his own cock erupted, hosing Bruce’s prostrate body with a veritable river of cum. He doused the man’s chest, then turned slightly and aimed at the pristine white briefs, coating them with the last of his hard-won ejaculate.

Slowly, Flamm pulled his finger out of Sasto’s hole; Sasto shuddered and sighed again. Without a word, he stood on his toes and threw his arms around Flamm’s neck, kissing him deeply. Flamm found his tongue and tasted it, relishing the feel of Sasto’s tight body against his own, loving the tickle of his mustache on his face, relishing the press of Sasto’s cock against his leg – still hard, still leaking cum.

Then they broke apart and for a moment, both looked down at Bruce’s splattered body. “Do we clean him up?”

Sasto grinned. “He didn’t clean me up.”

“Okay, then. Let’s see what he says in the morning.”

And just as Sasto was about to head out of the room and tiptoe back to his own room, Flamm grabbed him. “Hey.”

“What’s up?”

Flamm looked into his eyes and what he wanted to say was on the tip of his tongue … but not here, not now. Not with what they’d done to Bruce right next to them. “Sleep well. Restaurant wars tomorrow.”

Sasto met his eyes and nodded. “I will. You too, Joe.”

Then he was gone, and ten minutes later, Joe Flamm drifted off to sleep, alone.