Hot chocolate, with marshmallows and whipped cream.
2015-08-28 10:18 pm (UTC)
Chocolates; Teen (there's some naughty language :P); Dash/Mars
It's on his nose. There is whipped cream on Teller's nose and it is really hard not to stare at it and now he's licking the chocolate residue from his lips and...fuck. I shift my position on the couch, trying to discreetly cover my extremely obvious response to this obvious mating ritual with a throw pillow. Teller seems oblivious and merely focuses all of his attention on the mug of hot chocolate cupped in his hands, long, slim fingers intertwined as though he's clutching the heat to himself. My own cup sits forgotten on the coffee table, steam rising from it in little wisps that fade quickly into the nothingness of air.
"Your marshmallows are going to melt," Teller says, forcing me to look at him again. The whipped cream is still on his nose and for some reason my throat goes dry. He doesn't seem to notice my discomfort and merely gestures to my mug with his head. "Your marshmallows, they're going to melt and then you can't eat them in tiny sips."
I blink, trying to force my brain to just work, trying to make words come out of my mouth. But there's nothing coming, all I can do is stares at Teller's nose. He's staring back, his brow furrowed, concerned, confused, worried I'm going to attack him.
It's then that I realize I've been leaning forward very slowly, all attempts to hide my traitorous lap forgotten as the throw pillow slips to the floor. Teller just watches me. I stop a few inches from his face. I can feel his breath, smell the chocolate on it. "You've, uh," I swallow, lick my lips. His eyes track the movement and for some reason I shiver. "You've got whipped cream. On." I go to point, but I'm too close to be effective and instead I lean forward just a little more and, with a quick flick of my tongue, catch some of the whipped cream from his nose.
I'm expecting the sting of hot chocolate down my front, maybe a fist to the jaw, but instead, after a millisecond of frozen indecision and confusion, Teller tilts his head ever so slightly and catches my mouth with his.
It's my first first kiss, and it tastes like chocolates.
Halloween. Something with costumes.
2015-08-31 06:55 pm (UTC)
Unseen, Mars/Dash, M for naughtiness
In which somebody finally makes it out of the house for Halloween in Eerie...
Set in the "ten years later" 'verse.
“Guys!” Simon covered his eyes. It had been a long night, and all he wanted to do was get home and shower off the blood of eldritch abomination. But instead—
“Sorry!” Marshall called from the couch, from underneath the blanket he’d hastily thrown over himself and Dash.
“This is why you two have a room. With a door. We have a policy on doors, remember?”
“Sorry,” Marshall said again. “We were watching TV and getting ready to go to Janet’s Halloween party and—“
“Stop,” says Simon. “Some things, once seen, cannot be unseen. As I have already learned more than once tonight.” He began to feel his way along the hallway toward the bathroom.
“How was Janet’s party?” Marshall asked. "You're home kind of early."
Simon sighed. “Fine. Everybody’s fine. No more monsters. I took care of it.”
“Good.” Then, “Wait, what?!”
“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Simon stepped through the bathroom door and slammed it behind him. Then, eyes still shut, he opened it again long enough to yell, “And Han Solo does not do that with Darth Vader!”
Edited at 2015-08-31 06:55 pm (UTC)
The thing about selling your soul is...
The thing about selling your soul is that if you’re a minor? You have to get your parent or guardian’s permission. Now, not many demons and devils know this, after all it’s a handy training tool. Smart demons use the time to cultivate the potential seller. But what the rather dim demon who was trying to tempt Dash into selling his soul didn’t realize was that Dash had found out about that little tidbit of information.
So when the contract wouldn’t validate, the demon huffed and sent out a summoning to bring one of Dash’s parents to the old mill; it was nearly scared out of its skin when the Norse God of Mischief turned up. It disappeared is puff of smoke and fart of brimstone, leaving Dash gaping at an exceptionally beautiful man with gold red hair and eyes that couldn’t seem to settle on any one color at any given moment who face-palmed with groan.
“Did it ever occur to you that I stashed you here for your own protection?” Loki muttered as he gave his shocked son a hug.
“You’re my father?” Dash finally managed to get out.
“No, I’m your mother,” Loki said absently as he looked Dash up and down, tsking as he brushed away some dust from Dash’s shoulder, before fussing a little with Dash’s hair a little.
“So who is my mother really?” Dash asked still on auto-pilot.
Loki rolled his eyes, and sat them both down on a settee that had not been there a moment earlier.
“No, sweetie, I mean I am your mother,” Loki said very slowly, “before you ask, I don’t know who your father is. Yet. You were conceived at a wild party the Greek Pantheon was throwing for inter-deity understanding and I had had waaaay too much ambrosia.”
Dash was trying valiantly to wrap his mind the information and so grasped on to a bit that had made some sense.
“My own protection? You just dropped me in weirdsville with no home, no money and no name?”
The God of Mischief looked uncomfortable and sad for a moment.
“Your oldest brother got thrown into the ocean, your second oldest brother is chained up with a sword in his mouth, and while it’s all well and good that your sister is the ruler of a realm, it doesn’t make for happy family moments when you’ve got dead people all fussing at you for news of their more heroic relatives when you visit,” as he handed Dash a cup of hot chocolate, “I don’t want to announce your birth until I get your paternity settled. Hopefully it’s someone Odin doesn’t want to piss off, or a relative of someone Odin doesn’t want to piss off. Honestly Odin is the worst blood brother."
“A name’s a powerful thing, Child, and I’m not giving you one until I’m certain no one can use it to find you or harm you,” Loki carefully explained, as he placed a kiss from scarred lips on Dash’s forehead, “and if you believe one thing, and only one thing, then believe this; you are safer here in ‘weirdsville’ then you would be in any other place in the nine realms. Now,” he said as he stood up and dusted himself off, “I have a demon to catch before he goes blabbing all over the place about you.”
Then he was gone, leaving Dash to make sense of what he had just learned.
Edited at 2015-08-30 06:21 pm (UTC)
oh, seconding this SO HARD!
Purple striped bunny, tigers and a Giants sweatshirt.
2015-08-29 06:48 pm (UTC)
Dinner For Two; T(ish...); Slightly angsty; mentions of MPreg
"Dash, where's dad?"
It's become a nightly ritual, explaining where Marshall is to Ben.
Dash nods, staring down at the potato he's skewered on his fork. He's gotten good at this cooking thing, the least Mars could do is come home and eat some of it.
And spend some time with their son.
Dash looks up at Ben when he's sure the boy is focused on his plate, studying the strange array of features. No one was more surprised when he was when it turned out where ever he came from, males could give birth - gave that whole "nothing's gonna happen anyway" conversation when they ran out of condoms an interesting ending. Still, it's interesting to look at Ben and see both himself and Mars. He's pale, he has streaks of gray in his otherwise very brown mop of hair hair, and his brown eyes look out from a face full of features that are part him and part Mars.
It's almost disconcerting, but it also makes a strange swell of pride fill his chest.
Ben looks up, catches him watching, shoots a worried look across the table. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it."
Dash grins. "Just like I taught you, atta boy."
A blush spreads red and hot over Ben's cheeks and he ducks his head, failing to hide his smile. 'Thanks, Dash," he says. "Dad says I shouldn't do that, though."
"Of course he does, he's a stick in the mud. Now eat your peas."
Ben rolls his eyes, but obeys with a muttered, "Fine, Dash."
He never asked Ben to call him papa or any other variation of 'dad'. Mars is always Dad, and Dash is just Dash, and it doesn't bother either of them. And Simon is Uncle Simon, and he pampers Ben like crazy. Which is good, since Mars never seems to want to.
Dash holds in a sigh and picks at his own peas.
At first it wasn't like this. Mars was home every night, and the whole coparenting thing was actual them coparneting (and arguing, but that wasn't anything new). But lately...Mars has been away more and more frequently. He and Simon are working on something, but they won't tell Dash and Dash is pretty sure it's just because Mars knows Dash will insist on helping but he doesn't want to leave Ben parentless if things go wrong.
Which is great of him and all.
Except where does that leave Dash?
He jumps when something heavy lands on the table and both he and Ben stare up at a grinning Marshall.
"I finally found it!" he announces, pointing at the box he's just put on his usual place. "God. Finally. Happy birthday, Dash."
Dash blinks. "I don't...have a birthday?"
Mars waves his hand. "We've been over this, we're celebrating the day you woke up in the mill, now open your present before I let Ben do it."
The excited look in Ben's eye gets Dash out of his chair and around the table, carefully peeling back the tape and opening the box to look down at a huge leather bound tome. "What is it?" he asks.
Mars's hand falls lightly on his back. "It's Lodgepool's ledger," he says, "It took me forever to find it, then I had to negotiate with the Bureau, but Simon and I made a deal that if we digitized the information we could have the original."
"So...all this month..."
"Yeah, sorry, babe," Mars presses a quick kiss to Dash's temple, then rounds the table and scoops Ben out of his chair. "How are my boys? I've missed you!"
"Marshall," Dash says over Ben's giggles. Marshall looks up, brow creased at Dash's serious tone. This is where Dash could get all sentimental, express his thanks with teary eyes...but he's Dash, so instead he just says, "You owe me a month of dishes."
And Marshall laughs, his whole face lighting up as he carried Ben away into the kitchen to help with the dirty dishes.
Edited at 2015-08-29 06:48 pm (UTC)
Dash X, Mysterious Skin AU
commenting to say, I love your icon
Syndi battling the weirdness of Eerie.
oh, I like this one! never thought syndis actual characterisation in the show fitted with mars's characterisation of her as an airhead - she always seemed just as smart and driven as he was, just more involved in the community rather than looking in from the outside the way he did.
Inspired by the rewatch.
My name is Harley Holmes. Ten years ago my big brother Simon and his friend Marshall Teller disappeared. The only person who has any answers is a guy with gray hair that the Mayor is keeping prisoner. Tonight I'm breaking him out and then I'm going to find my brother and bring him home.
And nobody is going to stop me.
DAMN IT. I was gonna go to bed but I read this and now I am all excited and wont be able to sleep even tho obviously its not gonna get filled in the next few minutes rufnrzifweidiaichrworjfiarkfjsodk omg this prompt is amazing someone fill it now!!
A short AU Gravity Falls/Eerie Indiana crossover.
Stan Pines knew trouble when he saw it, and the guy with gray hair who was on his second tour of the Mystery Shack had a great big 'T' on him. So he was surprised when he saw him waffling between buying an ice cream bar and a small plush jackalope in the gift shop as the rest of the last tour group was drifting out. Given that Stan knew, from his own experience, anyone wearing a coat like that wouldn't hesitate to shoplift the jackalope (shoplifting ice cream bars tended to get messy) his interest was piqued.
"No Discounts and no refunds; we close in five minutes," Stan said to break the ice. The guy turned to look at Stan, oh gods, it was just a kid.
"Yeah, kinda guessed that," came a response that was just bordering on a growl, in a register that suggested the kid was pitching his voice lower to sound older, "so whaddaya think, pointless sentimentality over the only person to treat me decently?" he held up the jackalope, then nodded at the freezer full of ice cream bars, "or dinner and still have some money to get gas to get to the next city? I try not to steal anything in a small town; they can get weird," and finished with a bitterly mocking smile.
Stan Pines was not a nice man, but really looking the kid over made him ill. He knew this behavior, he knew what caused it, and he knew he should just shove the stuffed animal and ice cream into the kid’s hands and tell him to get out.
He invited the kid to stay for dinner.
The next day he contact an old acquaintance who was good at 'paperwork.'
A few weeks later Stanford Pines had the documents to prove the teen was none other than the long lost son of his brother Stanley, Dashiell Xenon Pines, and that as a good brother he was adopting the poor parentless kid.
Frankly out of all the dumb things Stan Pines did in his life, this was the one thing he never regretted.
The Unkind Ones were the only ones on the roads these days, patrolling Eerie, making sure no one was in danger from whatever was coming - was already here. A lot of people were sick, crime rates were skyrocketing, and crops were failing, but no one had died yet.
And if the Unkind Ones had anything to say about it, no one would.
It happened on main street, the inevitable confrontation. The Unkind Ones faced three new bikers - their bikes were white, red, and black. They revved their engines, they shouted taunts, but they did not advance. And the Unkind Ones only waited.
A louder bike echoed from somewhere beyond the other three, approaching quickly. The three parted, and a black clad rider on a pale green bike barreled through, heading straight for the Unkind Ones.
But this was what they had been preparing for, this was what they had been waiting for, and they revved their own engines and met Death head on.
this, this is sooooo perfect for a HP crossover