2020-2021 Fan Fiction Archives:

**Tags: Rated I guess R or maybe Nc-17??, Sorry I didn't read Pauline's until AFTER I wrote this and there is some clear parallel thinking. Also sorry Justin.**

——————

It was a bitter morning. The biting frost permeated the outhouse as Justin finished his morning routine. Slower than usual, as he’d grown older his joints reacted poorly to changes in the atmosphere.

He headed back into the main house not noticing the trail he dragged behind him on his shoe. Like the fluttering wing of a dove.

He entered and poured out what was left of the coffee. He got to work on a new pot when he heard the creaks in the staircase. That meant he was up early. It was rare for him to get up early, Justin being the early riser of the two. He’d be wanting that coffee, so Justin hurried to get it on the stove.

He’d shaved. That was the first thing Justin noticed. For the entirety of their marriage he’d always sported a thick black, now greying, mustache. But today, he shaved.

Justin had met Rob Delaney’s Character From the Film Tom & Jerry The Movie sixteen and a half years ago. They’d weathered more storms than either of them cared to count. For the past 10 they’d fled from the city up to the mountains of Alaska. Justin had always treasured the idea of a life lived in communion with nature. Rob Delaney’s Character From the Film Tom & Jerry The Movie had worked for many years in the city, at high end hotels. He didn’t like to talk about it much anymore. Not since the whole animal tornado incident. It had soured him not just from the business, but from that life–from that city.

Justin stroked the graying hair on Rob Delaney’s Character From the Film Tom & Jerry The Movie’s head as he kissed him softly on the mouth.

“I like it.” Was all he said.

Rob Delaney’s Character From the Film Tom & Jerry The Movie smiled coyly. He’d been nervous.

“I have to go into town today Jus, I hope that’s ok.”

“Could you pick up some more eggs?”

“Sure.”

He’d come to appreciate the simplicity of this life, Rob Delaney’s Character From the Film Tom & Jerry The Movie had. To appreciate Justin, the small touches and caresses, the way they always watched one another out of the corner of their eyes. Just to be able to feel their presence. It had taken him a long time to recover after the animal tornado incident, and Justin had been there all the way. He was his rock.

Rob Delaney’s Character From the Film Tom & Jerry The Movie headed for the front door.

“No coffee?” Justin asked.

“Not today, thanks. I feel a bit of energy this morning. Something in the air.”

“It’s cold.”

“I know. I love the cold. Winter’s on its way.”

And with that, he left.

Justin had quit smoking, just around the time they moved up here. It was hard enough going into town for supplies, any added necessities would only make life more difficult. He kept a tin of tobacco though, stored in his nightstand. He hadn’t touched it in years, but he knew it was still good. He liked the idea of having that release in case he ever needed it. Just knowing it was there could make stressful situations more bearable for him.

He put away the dishes and hung up the washing, took his time as the cold air slowed his movements. It was a perfect day for such abatement. Most days up in the mountains went by lullingly. They worked through their chores, making sure to keep themselves tidy and well stocked in the event of a storm. For the most part their days were passed in quiet contentment.

As he was finishing up the washing, Justin noticed something sticking out of the dirt, just by the back door. It was a cigar ring. Odd, because Rob Delaney’s Character From the Film Tom & Jerry The Movie didn’t smoke. He picked it up, rolling it between his callused fingers. They hadn’t had any visitors in some time. This was too fresh. He slipped it into his pocket, a bit perturbed.

As he reentered the house, his mind a drift, he started to look around the floorboards for any further evidence of a visitor. He went over to the kitchen pantry and opened it. He noticed all the reusable recycled plastic shopping bags were there. Rob Delaney’s Character From the Film Tom & Jerry The Movie never forgot to bring the reusable recycled plastic shopping bags.

A shimmering fear began to swell deep in Justin’s diaphragm. His breath shallowed. His pulse quickened. His eyesight narrowed. He no longer felt the stiffness in his joints. He grabbed his heavy coat and headed out the front door.

He didn’t know at first where he was going, allowing the adrenaline and instinct to guide him. His mind racing so quickly that no thought could form fully before being replaced by more and more intrusive thinking.

Before he knew it he was 2 miles deep into the redwoods. Suddenly he stopped. He could hear something. Something familiar yet alien. Something that sent quivering arrows of cold fear throughout his body.

He stood for a long time, vibrating with an energy he had never before experienced. Finally he began to move towards the sound.

Whatever was making this strange noise was coming from behind this bush. Justin hesitated, afraid because he knew what it was.

He parted the bush just enough to get a glimpse. He needed no more than that for the image to be forever scarred in his mind. An image so hauntingly heart-breaking it could never be removed from his consciousness.

Behind the bush was the love of his life, Rob Delaney’s Character From the Film Tom & Jerry The Movie, his freshly shaved arms and legs wrapped around the back of Bart the Bear From the Film The Edge. His member deeply engorged in the beast’s rectum. Both softly crying in ecstatic moans.

But that wasn’t all. Beyond the two lovers, embraced in their intense revelry, was a man. Not just any man, but Alec Baldwin’s Character From the Film The Edge, his own member exposed to the wintery cold clasped between his left hand. He too was a part of the betrayal. A part of the carnival of lust and destruction.

Justin stumbled back, nearly blinded. Not by rage, but by an intense sadness that ripped him in half.

He ran, unaware if he’d been heard, all the way back to the house without a thought or feeling entering into him other than this immense pain. He stumbled in the door and stopped.

It was as if he’d been trying to outrun the reality and the gravity of what he’d witnessed and the moment he stopped it hit him like a truck. He collapsed on the soft rug that graced their entryway. The rug he had chosen with his partner. His partner of 16 and a half years who’d moved with him from the chaos of Manhattan to the placidity of the Alaskan mountainside to live together. Alone. Together.

He slowly rose to his feet, beginning to feel a numbness overtake his body, and moved into the bedroom.

Slowly, methodically, without even thinking he pulled the tobacco tin out of the bedside table and rolled his first cigarette in 10 years. His eyes were glazed over.

He lit the cigarette and walked back into the living room. He took a seat in his favorite spot, a pristine Herman Miller Aeron chair size C Designed by Don Chadwick and Bill Stumpf. He slowly pulled the smoke from the unfiltered cigarette. Letting the feeling sink into his skin.

He sat like that for two hours. When he’d finished his cigarette, he rolled another. And another. Until he’d just about finished the entire tin of tobacco.

Finally Rob Delaney’s Character From the Film Tom & Jerry The Movie came back. He had a small smile creasing the corner of his mouth, a carton of eggs in one hand, and a pineapple in the other.

He looked at Justin, a pile of ash collecting on the leather arm rest.

“Everything ok? I was thinking about making pineapple margs tonight!”

A deep, strained inhale.

“Everything is great. I’d love a margarita.”

The End.

**Tags: Gen, Rated T (sorry to disappoint), Semi stream of conscious writing, No beta we die like men, No Barts were harmed in the making of this fic (kinda)**

**A/N: sorry Justin. Don't think too hard about any inconsistencies**

**Word Count: 1287**

——————

It wasn't Justin's first time in the Alaska tundra.

And it certainly won't be his last, he chuckled sardonically to himself as he climbed the peak of yet another mountain top.

The cold was unforgiving, the wildlife vicious, but there was lots to be grateful for if he looked at it just right--the air was crisp and the game aplenty. He was truly one with nature. He was alive.

These were things he had to say had to say to himself, or else the tundra would make a man go stark crazy.

It was actually a kind of a funny story--he and his best friend, Zee, been flying over the river to see a man about a photo or something. Unfortunately, a freak bird accident left their plane tumbling downward into the icy cold water, where Zee had saved him from drowning. In fact, Justin's companion taught him everything he knew about survivalist once they were stranded. It was only a shame that Zee had met his untimely demise at the hands of dysentery.

Yet, his death was to be expected as Zee, in actuality a Black man in a 90s era action genre (and not at all a dog), was a device to push the storyline and the main character's emotional development along.

So, he was stuck in the Alaskan forest. He had been for years. That was in part due to the fact that he didn't do any stupid shit like trying to find his way back using paperclips or the lint in his pocket or whatever. He got by with strong will and actual common sense, which, honestly, didn't get him diddly squat except for a consistent place for shelter, food, and fire.

But that's how life is sometimes.

(For example, one time he'd Googled the lyrics to the classic Whitney Houston hit “How Will I Know” and instead got lyrics to “That's How You Know” from Disney's 2007 film Enchanted starring. He never did get the lyrics to the Whitney Houston song.)

And so he lived his life in relative, but not truly awful, hardship.

He just wished he had a companion, he thought as he made his way down the mountain.

All his days were spent looking for a way out. Desperate for a trail, any hiker, any sign of human life--

Then he heard it.

A cry.

No, it wasn't a wolf, nor was he scared of one. Justin was actually quite good with dogs. This cry sounded... Like a yell. Human.

Justin broke off into a sprint.

If they were yelling and it was an echo at the other side of the basin, it could have been miles away, but luck would have it that he was on the north end, where the trees prevented such spreading of sound waves. Distantly, he thought how come these supposed survival skills never actually got him *out* of the forest. Maybe he truly wanted to be lost in these woods, not deal with the responsibility of human society, or maybe he being one with nature wasn't just a metaphor for him. But that was a thought for another day.

There was hint of man-made trails, through foot prints and the scent of man, which he followed deeper into the wood. He ran, finding makeshift bridges and broken trees, and scraps of clothing along the way. He nearly blacked out in the excitement of running to find the humans, not recalling his path or how he was getting to find these people.

Finally, he saw a pair of men, tattered but healthy. Justin thought what a great trio they would be. He figured if at least one of them wasn't a cannibal, they would all be in the clear.

And yet still they kept running away and eluding him. The whole chase was getting frustrating.

But he kept on, because what else could he do except for to move forward. Because there was no way he was going to succumb to shame, not if it was going to kill him in the process. Though, these men were persistent, and for what felt like days, he felt like chasing them, trailing, pursuing.

Only to find a fire pit. Literally, he saw fire in the distance, and then not long after that, he heard:

“He's a man killer! Been following us the whole time,” he heard one of them cry out. “Been stalking us!”

Were they talking about him?

Justin wanted to assure them, to say he was *just* trying to be get out of this hellish forest, so he attempted to yell out, but it'd been so long--years--since he last used his voice. He tried again but by the time he could rasp out “h--”

He heard it.

The Bear.

Anyone who knew anything about these woods knew about the Bear. He glanced at his companions behind the fire and realized... That didn't mean everyone knew about the Bear.

It was bloodthirsty and smart and perhaps a demon. Stories of the Bear followed these parts of centuries, and the locals knew better than to refer to it as a singular bear to tourists. The Bear stood for all bears, and yet, there was just the one.

As Justin stared at the fire, remembered their bloodied outfits, how worn down they clearly were, he realized, these men must have done something to antagonize the Bear.

These people are goddamn idiots, he thought.

And now he could hear the Bear roar, closer than he'd realized. Where was the Bear? How could he escape and get into cahoots with them for whatever trap they set up for the Bear? How could he get out of this cycle of running and running?

As he realized the Bear must be circling the fire, just as he'd done minutes before, he pondered, is that what I've become? Was I just like the Bear? Panic coursed through Justin, aware of how vulnerable his position was from the perspective of these men. He must alert them that another human, a person was here. He heard the roar once more.

Suddenly--

Justin didn't know what was happening, and allowed pure adrenaline to push him forward as the two men squabbled, clearly with the Bear. There was madness. Justin had to do something to help. But there was a scuffle--he didn't know what was going on--he just needed to help, or, or, or to get their attention or something.

“Pl-please,” he tried calling out, but it only came out a rasp.

No, it didn't come out a rasp. It was a desperate roar for help.

He tried following them, carefully, but now he saw that the two men were on edge, holding up sticks to him as if he were the enemy. He was only trying to show that he was a friend--

And then he was hit.

What? Justin looked to his left. A giant acicular object made of sticks was lodged and stabbing into his hair, his...fur?

He looked back at the men who were staring at him fearfully. He cried once more, "Please!" And launched forward.

“I need answers!” he yelled. It only came out as a roar. A bear roar.

The man closest to him, the more elder one, the was talking to him, but he couldn't understand, the ringing in his ears louder as his vision became clearer. The man was holding up one of those makeshift pilum at him with fear in his eyes. Justin tried to communicate, but panic seized his throat at the rapid fire thoughts.

Why was this happening?

Why were these men afraid of him?

And then finally: Have I been the Bear this entire time?

Justin fell forward, the thought being his last.

**Tags: Fantastical realism, 12 min. read, Includes a NMC member's future**

——————

On the pristine coast of exotic New Jersey, a small community resided on what is now called Mystic Island. It connected to the Atlantic Ocean through Great Bay and to most, it was anything but magical. This sleepy waterfront neighborhood just tried to enjoy the quiet life. But for a certain resident, one of the aquatic variety, she had always been curious to see what the rest of the world had to offer.

Wanda was an inquisitive crustacean that humans would describe as a Dungeness Crab. She didn’t know what Dungeness meant. She had just heard the term in a movie once. Movies had become an integral part of Wanda’s life. Every day she would wake up, swim, forage, say hi to her octopus friend Phil, and then scuttle up on the rocks of Mystic Island. Old man Gurevitch always left his TV on, day and night. His wife, “Left me for a damn Celtics player!”, he would often bellow to no one in particular. Wanda didn’t know what a Celtics player was, but she hated them all the same, in solidarity.

Movies were how Wanda experienced the world. She marveled at watching: Paris in the 60s, bears defending their homes, 30 wrestlers in a ring at once, a cat and mouse fighting to the death, moons making people horny, and also, a successful Vegas businessman named Terry, who got robbed just for struggling to balance his work and love life. What did he ever do to those 11 guys? Anyway, all these movies brought joy and heartbreak to Wanda’s life and she wouldn’t know what to do without them.

It was Friday in Great Bay, and after another successful foraging session, Wanda skip-jumped over to an impressive pile of seashells on the bay floor.

“Wow, Phil!” she said. “You had a feast today.”

The pile shuddered and fell around an emerging young octopus.

“Thanks Wanda, I’ve been sharpening my skills,” he said doing some octo-martial arts.

“Quite impressive. You may be in the running for ‘Great Bay Hunter of the Month’.”

“That’d be amazing, but I’m just trying to get a little better every day.”

“You got my vote,” she said noticing something near his beak. “Hey, you missed a shell.”

“Oh, did I?” he said not looking for it.

“Yeah, it’s a bright yellow one.”

He looked right at it. “Ah… thanks.”

Phil slowly removed the pretty shell and dropped it into the pile. Wanda nodded.

“Well, I’m off to Old Man Gurevitch’s.”

“Is it that time already? You gonna watch your favorite, ‘A Fish Called Wanda’?

“It’s not my favorite. I just loved the name, which is why I stole it,” she said and giggled.

“Right, right.”

“And I still like to think you’re named after my favorite actor.”

“Philip Bosscow?”

“You remembered!”

“Of course. You talk about him all the time.”

“Ha, I guess I do. Anyway, there’s a new movie coming on tonight called, ‘Searching For Bobby Fischer.’ It looks great! I’ve always wanted to learn how to play chess.”

“What’s chess?”

“I don’t fully know yet, but it’s a game where two people stare intently at a checkerboard and then move the pieces… very slightly.”

“Sounds kind of boring.”

“But there’s so much tension! It’s a battle of the minds!”

“If you say so… Hey, if it ends up being fun maybe we can play some time?”

“Yeah maybe, as long as it doesn’t keep me from my movies. This weekend is a Disney marathon and they’re showing ‘The Little Mermaid’. God Sebastian is so hot.”

“Great,” he said looking away. “Have fun out on the jetty. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“See ya tomorrow!” she said and scuttled off.

Phil glanced back sullenly at his bright shell in the sand. “I guess she just doesn’t like yellow… Maybe I’ll try a seaweed tie tomorrow instead.”

* * * * * *

Over on the rock jetty near the old man’s houseboat, Wanda settled in for an early evening of chess and probably reruns on the WB. Gurevitch had a thing for 90’s teen TV shows. Just as she started shucking a few clams she had with her, a strange man in a white suit and hat walked out on the rocks. He wore glasses and carried a big basket. Then Wanda saw what was inside the basket, a pile of crabs! She dropped her meal and began skittering down the rocks. But as she reached the bottom her claw got stuck in a crack and the crab-catching weirdo scooped her right up. The next 24 hours were a blur…

When Wanda woke up, she found herself at a fish market in downtown Manhattan. How the hell did she get HERE!? The white-suited freak, who never stopped smiling, was selling crabs to some restaurant owners, although he wasn’t taking any money for them. What was this sicko’s game!? Wanda had watched plenty of humans in her life, he was no human. As soon as he turned towards an attractive redheaded café owner, Wanda leapt out of the basket. But being in a new place was disorienting and before she could pick a direction the hat man picked her back up and handed her over to the desperate-looking chef.

In the days that followed, Wanda was stuck in a kitchen watching the worst cooking she had ever witnessed. She had seen cartoon rats do more with less than this culinary wannabe. However, the redhead did remind her of a certain vampire hunter she had seen, so maybe there was some potential there. Wanda remained confined to the kitchen but realized that the more business this woman had the more chances she would have to escape.

Wanda noticed that the Not-Buffy chef was an orphan like herself (crab larvae just floats away sadly), and an idea sprang to mind. The well-watched crab began writing encouraging messages and leaving them next to the chef’s knife. She always signed off with, ‘With love, from Mom.’ Wanda wasn’t above emotional manipulation to get her freedom back. Not-Buffy ate the messages up (Wanda’s not above puns either) and with this newfound support the chef’s confidence grew. Nothing is stronger than self-belief Wanda thought. And you know what? Not-Buffy’s dishes improved! Additionally, Wanda noticed that the chef’s taste in men was also woefully misguided, but there was only so much she could help this poor woman with. Plus, writing this much made her claw cramp.

Soon after the café’s turnaround, Not-Buffy landed a huge dinner at a ballroom full of sex-starved humans and Wanda saw her chance to escape and return to Mystic Island. But more importantly, return to her movies. At the end of the night, the newly confident cook abandoned her kitchen, smart move*, and pursued her dimwitted Not-Romeo to have many paper plane-obsessed children with. Humans were weird. Wanda took the opportunity and leapt down to leave, but the doors wouldn’t budge. She looked up at the two round windows and staring back at her was the man in the white suit!!

“Where are you going little crab!?” he shouted. “We haven’t cooked you yet!”

Wanda thought to herself, ‘Who the hell is this guy, the crab devil?’

“Fuck you crab-napper!” she yelled and pulled back from the door.

It swung inward, surprising the man, and Wanda tripped him by pinching his shoelaces. The man stumbled into a steel refrigerator, cracking open his skull. He laid on the floor, gushing blood from his head. Wanda climbed up a nearby stove and over to a pot of boiling water.

“This is for every crab you put your greasy hands on.”

Wanda knocked the boiling pot down onto the man’s face, and it melted away like ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark.’ He squealed and died instantly. Wanda winked at him before scampering out the doors with no one in her way.

* * * * * *

Out on the street, Wanda saw a motorcycle with Jersey plates that read, ‘The Boss.’ A fast wild ride down the Jersey Turnpike and towards Atlantic city put a smile on her little crab face. The rider finally noticed Wanda on the back and pulled over, right near Mystic Island.

He squinted down at her and then sang, “Hey, little crab, is your daddy home? Did he go and leave you all alone? MmmMmm.”

“No, Mr. The Boss,” she said before hopping off. “It’s just me, I take care of myself. Been that way for a while now.”

“I understand… I often ride alone too, but it’s always nice to go home to Patti.”

“I see. Well tell Patti hi for me then. She’s got a real nice husband.”

He flashed her an underbite smile and peeled off.

Wanda raced along the gravel road towards Mystic Island. Maybe this place did have more magic in it than people thought. She soon reached the edge of Great Bay and dove in with a BLOOP. Relief immediately washed over her as she side-walked her way home. She grabbed a bite to eat and then had the best sleep of her life.

The next morning, she went straight to Phil’s to tell him all about her journey. As she approached a new stack of shells, Phil rushed towards to her and squeezed her affectionately with his eight tentacles. After he gently released her, she went on and on about her travels and getting revenge on the white hat man. It was now Phil’s turn to be impressed.

“That’s a crazy story, Wanda. I’m really glad you’re alright.”

“Me too! I thought that lonely amateur chef was going to keep me locked up forever.”

He nodded and smiled. “Quick, follow me over here, behind the big rock.”

Phil swam out ahead with Wanda trailing behind. When she turned the corner, she was amazed by what she saw.

“Phil… this is incredible.”

The dedicated octopus had built her a full chess set. He found black and white stones for the board and then corresponding shells for the pieces.

“After you didn’t come back, I went searching for you. I was at Old Man Gurevitch’s, he’s drinking a lot more Sam Adams these days by the way, and they were rerunning that chess movie. I memorized the game and then found some pieces in case you ever came back.”

She was touched by the gesture and sidled up to him close. Soon her flapping mouth feelers were pressed up against his soft siphon. After the long kiss, their eyes met again, leaving them both with a smile.

“After we play a few games,” she started. “Would you like to go exploring with me? Maybe up the coast?”

“You and me? Away from the bay?”

She nodded. “I want to start living my adventures, not just watching them on TV.”

The two embraced again and then started the first of many, many games of chess.

THE END

**Tags: NC-17 (sex stuff)**

——————

Chapter 1

They say that the mind and the body are actually two separate entities. In reality, what we see, hear, touch, and taste is raw data - meaningless 0s and 1s. Our experiences of unbridled euphoria or piercing agony are simply our mind’s interpretation of the world around us. But if that’s true… how can I explain what I feel?

“Nik, don’t you dare stop. You stop when I say you stop.”

How did I get here? I don’t remember going to the beach today. The waves crash against the rock we’re on and the water explodes like fireworks above us. The ocean itself is ejaculating.

“Nik, I’m so close. I’m so close, baby.”

I’m thrusting and the slap of my thigh against the rock makes a THWOKKK sound that overpowers the symphony of the waves. How did I get here? How did I get inside her?

“Nik… I’m gonna come. Nik… don’t… stop…”

I feel like I’ve been running a marathon. My loins feel like a cinderblock, and as I look down at her ample chest heaving uncontrollably, the cinderblock turns into a kettlebell. How did this happen? I don’t even remember how we met…

“N…. I…. K…. I’M GOING TO EXPLODEEEEEEEEEE”

As she screams, the world around me stops. The roaring waves freeze mid-tumble. The only thing I hear is the reverberation of her gasp, echoing in my ears like I’m standing next to a rocket launch. I look down and see, etched in her face, an ecstasy that cannot be recounted in words. And then, just as suddenly, I feel a wave the size of the ocean itself wrap itself around my member and swallow me, drown me-

“AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!”

My body jolts up. My breath is wild, and the sweat-soaked sheets add a shiver to my gasps for air. It takes me a minute to orient myself.

“It was a dream,” I realize.

…

“GODDAMN IT!!”

I slam my fists into the bed. I get up, head to the bathroom, and finish what the dream started.

**Tags: NC-17 (sex stuff)**

——————

"We're going to run it again, from the top!"

Tucci came in hot. He was always hot, but today, he was hotter than hell and everyone knew it.

It was twenty four hours until people would file into the auditorium to see Tucci's Olivier Award winning performance as Shrek in South Glendale High School's production of Shrek 2. It was also the last week of high school, and Tucci was STRESSED OUT because he made a bet or a promise or something with his friends (Big Night collaborators Campbell Scott and Tony Shalhoub) that they would all lose their virginities by graduation or else they would go to shop class and table saw their own heads off.

They say you're not supposed to make love to someone who you do not love, but Tucci actually DID love someone at school, so this wasn't a problem. The person he loved? That would be the principal of the school. What's the name of the principal? Why, it's the character Cameron Diaz played in The Holiday, of course.

"Damn, I'm fucking thirsty as hell!" Shalhoub shouted, as he dunked the game winning basket at his own sort of act three victory thing (he needed to prove he was good at basketball to win the heart of Sanaa Lathan from Love and Basketball, a movie that was actually suggested multiple times but lost to things like the 1995 Royal Rumble). So, he's done. He's with Sanaa Lathan. Arc over.

Okay next up is Campbell Scott. He fucks the James Corden cat from Cats, and Campbell and The Family Man blow their loads on Corden's exofur (Carpool Bukkake).

Okay, back to Tucci, who is ON STAGE as Shrek, and he is SWEATING because he forgot his main line ("Goddamnit Donkey, get your head out of my ass!") right during the emotional climax of the play. But this emotional climax would turn into a literal climax as Tucci, ever the consummate professional, decided to consummate his relationship with Donkey (Diane Keaton, against type) right there on stage as a sort of "improv bit."

But! Cameron Diaz's character from the Holiday was in the audience, and she was kind of turned off at the idea of Tucci with another woman ("i'm not a cuck" she whispered to her date, "Ted," who was starting to get jealous).

Right before the credits roll (down the curtains onto the stage), Tucci stopped the production.

"Guys, I just want to apologize. I forgot the meaning of high school for a second, and instead of saving myself for the woman I love - the American woman from the Holiday - I had live, public sex with Diane Keaton the actor. This was a mistake that I hate and regret, and now I'm a new person and..."

He got on one knee. "Oooh, bad knee." He switched to the other knee. "Ah, my good knee." And then he popped open a box to reveal the single biggest diamond in the world. "Merry Christmas baby," he said to Diaz('s character from the Holiday). They kissed and made out so hard their lips melted under the stage lights, and their bodies fused together and became a newborn baby.

The End.

**Tags: Enchanted, Giselle/Nancy, (fr)enemies to lovers**

——————

Chapter 1

In retrospect, she should have seen this coming when she married a cartoon prince.

It wasn’t Edward’s fault per se. He was a product of his upbringing. His life existed literally in two dimensions, and well, it was nice to meet a man who acted like he was brought into the world to make her happy.

With Prince Edward — now, of course, King Edward — the days rolled into months and years without much effort. She assumed it had been a few years, but honestly, time flowed differently in Andalasia. Nancy would get caught in the rain and before she could finish heaving a sigh, she’d be back home, soaked; then before she could shiver, upstairs, wrapped in a towel in front of a fire with a chorus of woodland friends offering her a cup of hot cocoa. She’d look out at the snowflakes dusting the castle grounds and think about the winter ahead, and all of a sudden, it was spring. Soon, the leaves will turn again. And back to winter. All the while, Edward would look at her like she was the only creature in existence — which was saying something, considering the sheer number of rodents and birds that flitted in and out of their doors daily.

The years had felt long and certain with Robert. Three whole years she’d waited for him to propose, waited for him to sweep her off her feet. Three years clocking his cynicism and retorts about “neverlasting love” he’d picked up at work, waiting for him to remember that it was okay to smile on occasion when you were in love. Three years arguing about Morgan, when to meet her and when to trust her that they could be alone together. Nancy had weathered a little over one thousand days — was that all it was, in the end? — of compromise and adjusted expectations, of hope that it would all be less work someday.

But then came Giselle, and well. She and Robert found their happily ever afters. That’s what she told herself, at least.

To say that Nancy isn’t happy wouldn’t really be accurate. It’s impossible not to be happy in Andalasia. Everything is so vivid, at all times. Two-dimensional reality dulls a lot of the nuance of life, of dreams, of staring at the ceiling until 4 a.m. wondering if this is what your thirties are supposed to be. So yeah, Nancy’s happy. Or in the rare moments she isn’t, well, she’s enraged, or sobbing. Nancy feels alive, and Edward is in love with her. He’s never cynical, and she’s happy. Everything is just fine.

When she agreed to come home for her parents’ 40th anniversary party, it didn’t seem like a big deal. They called — how the phone still works is beyond her, but it does, and that’s been convenient — and she said she’d come. Nancy wasn’t sure how far away the party actually was, but she didn’t want to risk it with the way time worked there so she headed out right away. Edward was away on some mission (a griffin? wildebeest? something was terrorizing the peasants, it always was) but she figured that was fine. He didn’t like New York much. Whenever she brought up moments from her life his nose would twitch, ever so slightly, from the unpleasant reminder. But he listened politely.

Edward was nothing if not polite.

So Nancy left a note for Edward, and a message with Pip to be safe, and set off for the city. She popped out of the grate in the exact outfit she’d been wearing when she jumped in. Huh. She walked east to Grand Central, hopped on the Metro North, and sent her mother a text letting her know she’d be in Scarsdale within the hour.

It took until the train pulled away from Bronxville for Nancy to start to remember the shades of grey that come with life in three dimensions. It was like the tingles of an arm that had fallen asleep, these recesses of her mind waking up, slowly, limping painfully along, half-numb. It was entirely unpleasant but necessary, and then before she knew it, her mind was wide awake.

Laying in her childhood bed, staring at a fading early Madonna poster still tacked to the far corner of her room well into the early hours of the morning, Nancy wondered when in the world she’d decided to settle into a life where everything was just fine.

"What No One Can Turn Back"

**Summary: Raymond Leon is often scoffed at for being a Timekeeper. Everyone finds him cruel and unsympathetic. But, they do not know the true story. That he had a best friend once. His name was Paul Salas.**

**Coming Soon…**

Not fan fiction but on 11/3 we just talked about the election and 11/24 was josie and the pussycats

From Josh M:

Bears are hot.

From Josh M:

jake, me writing bears are hot was a test. could you please delete? thank you

From Josh M:

jake, i would really like it taken down. thank you

From Josh M:

Jake, please answer your phone. I need to talk to you and explain why this isn't some comedy bit. Thank you.

From Bear Bear:

josh is hot

From Josh M:

do you really think so?

From Bear Bear:

Yeah, I actually think its pretty sexy how you take control of nice movie club and make sure things run smoothly. roar

From Abby M:

What the fuck is going on here?

From Josh M:

She’s got a gun!

From Gun Gun:

Bang Bam Bang

From Bear Bear:

Noooooooooooooooooooo!

From Pauline N:

And thats how you write fan fiction

From Ted S:

That was hot stuff.