you've got me laughing while i sing

Untitled original piece.

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 04:05:14 GMT

Title: Untitled
Genre: Short story, drama, original
Rating: PG-13
Status: Unfinished

Ice cold.

She wakes with a gasp, her eyes shooting open in fright and surprise.

She can't breathe, she realizes, can't feel anything but ice cold over her entire body and a sharp, penetrating pain in her shoulder.

'Broken clavicle,' she thinks, then pauses. 'How did I know that?'

She concentrates, trying to recall something, anything, from the past day, but her mind flits about of its own accord. Brief flashes accompany vague memories, people speaking to her but inaudible in her minds' eye.

She shakes the images from her head, trying to take a deep breath. Her chest contracts, though, and what breath she has rushes out of her, accompanied by a pained squeak.

'Collapsed lung.'

It's with this thought, this seemingly random diagnosis, that a flood of memories comes back to her, unbidden and sudden in their intensity.

Her name is Alice McDonald.

* * *

"Alice!"

Alice looked up from her chart and turned around slightly clumsily, her eyes searching haphazardly around the open lobby for the source of the voice. Spotting Jennifer Connell, a nurse and colleague in the ER, she smiled and smoothed out her white physician's coat.

"Hello, Jennifer," She said, somewhat cool and professional.

Jennifer came to a stop in front of the taller doctor, her hands shoved into the pockets of her scrub top. Alice's eyes flit over the woman's appearance briefly, her observant mind taking in numerous details. Jennifer's dark hair is plastered to her head with sweat and, possibly, blood. Her scrubs are wrinkled and there are definitely a few bloody prints on the tube of her stethoscope.

"Tough shift?" Alice inquired, reaching out subconsciously to wipe some blood from Jennifer's stehoscope.

"Yeah," the nurse replied soberly, "we just lost a kid. Got hit by a car."

Alice let out a sympathetic sigh, the hand on Jennifer's stethoscope drifting to the woman's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Jennifer said, shrugging the hand off and looking away, her tone completely unconvincing.

They stood silently for a half minute or so, the quiet simple and comfortable.

"Hey, how long's your shift?" Jennifer asked suddenly.

Alice is taken aback by the abruptness of the question and it takes her a few stuttering seconds to gather her thoughts.

"Um, I...I'm off at 5 tonight. Why?"

"Do you want to go get a drink? I feel like I'm going to need one."

"You're going to need a drink in 10 hours?"

"Sure. After today, I'll probably need a drink for the rest of the week."

Alice let out an understanding chuckle.

"Sure."

* * *

She's definitely upside down. Or, at least, the car is upside down.

Alice has maneuvered from her initial position to a more stretched out one, one of her legs twisted awkwardly but no longer pinned under the other. Looking up, she can see the passenger side seat above her, the seatbelt buckle dangling lazily.

She's managed to dig her bag out from underneath the rear dash, which is crushed against the cold asphalt where her rear window used to be. Careful of the shattered glass she drags the pack to her and opens it carefully, any sharp movements eliciting sharp inward breaths of pain. Rummaging around for a few seconds, her hand re-emerges victoriously clutching a sealed hypodermic syringe. She squints at the package, her eyes gliding over the text, before she nods slightly and pushes her pack away.

The needle is unpackaged and the cap is off in seconds. She holds it in her left hand while the fingers of her right hand probe the area of the left side of her rib cage.

"Fifth intercostal space...Mid...Mid-axillary line..." She mutters under her breath as her fingers press, stopping after a few moments as they find their mark. Carefully she slides her red wool sweater up until the hem is just under her bra, her battered and bruised ribs fully exposed. Finding the spot with her fingers again, she pops the plunger out of the syringe with her left hand and raises the needle point to her ribs, just alongside her right index finger.

She lets out her breath and pushes.

Her groan of pain is accompanied by a rush of air. She quickly pulls the needle out and tosses it to the side. She takes only a moment to recover before she starts to look for her cell phone.

She knows that her needle decompression has only bought her a bit of extra time.

Without a chest tube, she'll likely die.

* * *

Her Wish [Demi/Selena, PG-13, Chapter 1 of 5 - Meeting]

Sun, 06 Sep 2009 05:10:20 GMT

Title: Her Wish
Author: initiatesix
Pairing: Demi/Selena
Genre: AU, fluff, romance, angst
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Singer Demi Lovato is bored of life on the road, and finds herself dreaming of something more. A wish from a dying girl might be the thing she needs to feel alive again.
Word Count: 2700

It's funny, Demi thinks to herself, how the trees outside her window are blurring together incomprehensibly, but she'll remember every moment of this car ride for as long as she lives. Her head is pressed against the cool glass of the rear passenger window of the car she's in. She's not even really sure what kind of car it is. All she knows is that somewhere in the distance is the Texas Medical Center, a place she both anticipates and dreads arriving at. Her anticipation is understandable. After all, it's not every day a dying girl makes her greatest wish to meet you. But then, her dread is borne from the same sentiment: what on earth could possess someone to want to meet her, Demi Lovato, so badly?

Selena Gomez... Demi opened up the manilla file folder that had been sent to her by the Foundation. A fruitless action, considering she's read the contents at least thirty times since receiving it in her room this morning. For example, she could recall at will that Selena was born on July 22, 1992 and that her middle name is Marie. She knows that Selena has a half brother named David who she lives with after an accident involving their parents (though Demi's sketchy on those details, to be fair). She knows that the girl's favorite snack food is pickles and peanut butter, which sounds absolutely disgusting.

She knows that Selena's diagnosis is serious, and that she'll be lucky to live out the year.

Before she can ponder over that thought-stopping fact, Demi's shaken from her study by the loud jingle of her cell phone.

She closes the folder quickly, as though she's been caught doing something inappropriate, and fumbles to snatch her phone out of her coat pocket. She groans when she sees the caller id. Of course Miley would call at a time like this.

"Speak," she says as she picks up, though her tone isn't unfriendly.

"Dems, where are you?" Miley asks, frantic, "One minute you're in LA, the next you're...well, I don't rightly know where you are right now, but that's not the point! What's goin' on, girl? Spill!"

Demi lets out a soft sigh.

"Miles, I...I needed a break," she says honestly. After all, she really did need a break, so it's not a total lie.

"Nuh uh," Miley says, and Demi's treated to a mental image of Miss Cyrus standing in the middle of whereever she is with a no-bullshit look on her face and one hand on her hip, "that excuse might've worked on your manager, but it ain't gonna fly with me."

"Look, Miley-"

Demi's explanation is cut off abruptly as the driver announces through the small opening in the protective glass that they've arrived.

"Arrived? Arrived where? What are you up to, Lovato?"

"Gotta go, Miles, I'll talk to you later."

And ignoring Miley's protests, she hits the "end" button on her phone swiftly, pocketing the blackberry as she swings her legs out of the car. As soon as she stands upright she stretches, an almost agonized groan escaping her lips. While it's not far distance-wise from the airport to TMC, Houston traffic is such that what could have been a fifteen minute drive turned into an hour and fifteen minute drive.

"I'll wait for you in that lot over there, Ms. Lovato," the driver says courteously, pointing to a visitor's lot close by.

"Thank you," she replies distractedly, her gaze centered on the menacing-looking entrance to the Texas Medical Center's M.D. Anderson Cancer Center. She takes a few deep breaths, steadying herself and clutching the manilla folder tightly to her chest, before marching purposefully towards the door.

All her life, Demi has associated hospitals with the smell of chlorine and boiled leather, and she can never really put her finger on the why of it. Stepping through the sliding doors at the entrance to the Cancer Center, she's surprised to find that this particular hospital doesn't smell bad at all. In fact, it doesn't smell. There's a distinctly neutral tone to the scent of the air around her that calms her nerves for some reason. For a few minutes she just stands there in the center of the main lobby, the folder held securely against her heart.

Her eyes are wide as she takes it in, and she suddenly regrets how much time her...”wish-ee” has had to spend in places like this. The layout is just intimidating, she thinks with a shiver, all hard angles and large panes of glass, white and unpainted steel glinting from the rays of sunlight that filter through the overlarge windows.

Her eyes slide over the architecture slowly, but despite this she almost misses the admit desk, which seems itself to be an extension of the building, blending into the edges of the design almost perfectly. Her steps hide her feelings, her footfalls echoing softly but surely within the cavernous lobby. When she's about fifteen feet from the desk, she can feel the Admit Nurse's eyes on her, widening in recognition.

"N-name?" the nurse, who can't be any older than 20, stutters out.

"Demi Lovato," Demi says, very clearly. If it weren't for the severity of her visit, this situation might almost have been funny.

"And why are you here today, Ms. Lovato?" The nurse asks, regaining control of her voice.

"I'm visiting a patient...Selena Gomez?"

"Just a moment," the nurse responds, trailing off as she inputs the information into the computer terminal at her desk.

"Okay, just take the elevator to the third floor and take a right, then it'll be the third door on your left."

"Thank you," Demi said, her smile almost genuine, before turning on her heel in a sharp left and striding toward the elevator.

* * *

The third floor of the Cancer Center is quite obviously the Pediatrics ward, something that surprises Demi. She had never imagined that Selena, being 18, would be put in the Pediatric ward, but then, looking in all the rooms, Demi noticed with considerable heartbreak that the Cancer Center seems to be filled to bursting, so maybe there's a good reason that Selena's still in the kids ward. The ward itself is almost like a different world when compared to the lobby, colorful wallpaper and artwork covering the sterile white walls. Happy kids music plays over the speakers and as she walks past a media room, she smiles to herself as she sees Sonny with a Chance on the big screen, a big pile of kids watching with rapt attention as she and Sterling duke it out verbally.

The third door on the left, the nurse had said...

So Demi counted out the doors, noticing that the doors on the left are far more spaced out than those on the right. The rooms on the left seem to be bigger as well, single rooms housing older patients, most likely to give them some privacy from the younger kids. After what seems like a mile long walk, Demi arrives outside the third door on the left, a large, imposing wooden door. This is the first closed door she's seen on the ward and is worried for a second. What if she's not here? What if something happened?

Her face sets resolutely, however, and she quickly knocks on the door, three sharp raps. Two voices call out to her, intermingling.

"Come in," says a girls' voice, young and unwavering.

"Please wait," says another voice. This one is older, male, with a deep timbre that speaks of experience and confidence. Probably a doctor.

She hears a heated debate, catching only bits and pieces, before she hears the girl call out again.

"It's all right, you can come in."

Bracing herself mentally, Demi turns the handle and pushes the door open.

She's greeted by the doctor's back, hunched over a girl who is on her side on the hospital bed. Demi can't see what he's doing, but as she stands there in the doorway, she sees him straighten up with a small tray of vials of clear liquid, and he's putting the end of a syringe into a hazardous sharp objects container.

"There," he says to the girl on her side, "all done. You know the drill, nothing strenuous, okay?"

"Alright," she says in an exasperated tone as she turns onto her back and gingerly pulls herself into a sitting position.

And that's when her eyes locked onto Demi's.

Instantly, Demi feels a wash of emotions tumble through her, but in this tumult of feeling, one thought stands out.

'She's gorgeous.'

And indeed, despite her illness, Selena Gomez is a beautiful girl, the only evidence of anything wrong with her being her slightly pallid skin and dark rings under her eyes. Her lips are turned up in a smile and her eyes are sparkling in a way that makes Demi think that the other girl has a joke that she wants to share with her, sparkling in a way that starts an odd tug of familiarity in her chest.

The doctor very tactfully slips past Demi, shutting the door on his way out. Demi doesn't move from her spot, though. Instead, she stays rooted, her eyes still locked on Selena's as though she never wants to look away. She speaks without really thinking, wanting nothing more than to fill the silent void in the room.

“What was that doctor-”

“It's called a Lumbar puncture,” Selena says, cutting off Demi's question with a wave of her hand, “It's nothing major, just something I have to get done once every couple of days.”

“Oh...”

And there's the silence again. Demi's not quite sure what she thought was going to happen during this visit, but this was definitely not it. The silence is stifling almost to the point of awkwardness, but not quite. Selena's still looking at Demi with a kind of amused interest.

“You can come further into the room, you know,” she says with a hint of a smirk, “I won't bite.”

Demi feels her face heat up considerably as she steps meekly across the room, nearly collapsing into the chair beside Selena's bed.

She honestly has no idea why she's so nervous.

“So...” Selena trails off, eyes never leaving Demi's and her smirk still planted on her lips.

“I'm Demi,” she blurts out, doing an internal face-to-palm maneuver the moment it comes out.

“I know,” says Selena, not unkindly, “Obviously. I mean, I wouldn't wish to meet a total stranger.”

“But, we are, aren't we?” Demi asks, her nervous feeling suddenly increasing, “Complete strangers, I mean.”

Selena's smile falters momentarily.

“So you don't remember? No, of course you don't. I wouldn't expect you to.”

“I...Remember what?” Demi's heart is in her throat, and that tug of familiarity is back with a vengeance.

“About 11 years ago, when you were at the Barney auditions, do you remember drawing with another girl in the waiting line?”

But Demi's already in flashback mode before Selena can finish her question, the memories suddenly flooding back to her.

Seven year old Demi Lovato is quite sure that she'll never reach the front of the line. She and her mother have already been here for hours and it feels like she hasn't moved an inch. Her hand is clenched around a pink crayon and she's very carefully coloring in the picture of a unicorn on the page of her coloring book. This time, she's stayed perfectly inside the lines.

“Hi,” comes a shy voice from beside her.

Demi turns her head slowly and looks up. Standing next to her in a girl about her own age, wearing a pretty dress that she seems supremely uncomfortable in.

“Hi,” says Demi, her smile bright, “you wanna color with me?”

“Okay,” the shy girl says, though she doesn't sit down. She looks conflicted, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

It only takes Demi a moment to realize that the girl doesn't want to wrinkle her dress on the hard pavement, so she shrugs off her new jean jacket and folds it until it's reasonable cushion-like, then sets it on the ground beside her.

The girl beams at her, a genuine smile, and sits down carefully on the jacket.

“I'm Selena,” the girl says as she picks up a green crayon.

“I'm Demi,” she replies, watching her new friend color intently, her tongue poking out of her mouth slightly, before turning back to her own page.

Maybe they'll be on the show together.

“You're the girl from the Barney auditions!” Demi exclaims, the memory suddenly clear as day in her mind's eye, “I can't believe I forgot...I'm so sorry.”

Selena waves off her apology with a smile.

“It's okay, really. It was a long time ago, I didn't really expect you to remember.”

She trails off, her eyes wistful, and Demi takes a second to examine the woman that girl has become.

Now that she's up close, Demi can see more evidence of Selena's illness. Her skin seems almost like paper, and she's unhealthily thin. Running into her left hand is an IV line, though the bag attached to the line has run dry.

“So, um...”

Selena looks up when Demi speaks, the smile back on her face.

“Yeah?”

“What happened?” Demi asks, her curiosity overcoming her better judgement, “After the auditions, I mean.”

Selena lets out a sigh and she settles back against her pillows.

“I got a callback, actually.”

Demi's eyes widen in surprise.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. And then I fainted for the first time.”

Selena's face is inexpressive when she says this, her eyes staring forward.

“My mom rushed me to the hospital, and a couple days later the doctors made their diagnosis.”

Demi's surprised to find herself blinking back tears; normally, she's not one to cry. Selena glances back to Demi and when she notices the unshed tears, her eyes widen.

“Oh, no no, it's okay, really,” she says, reaching out and taking Demi's hand, “I'm okay with it all. Really.”

Demi gives Selena a tearful smile and squeezes the girl's hand gently.

They're interrupted by a knock at the door and they both snatch their hands back as though they've been doing something dirty. A nurse pokes her head in a second later.

“I'm sorry, Miss Gomez, but visiting hours are over.”

“Already?” Selena asks, her voice disappointed.

“Hey,” Demi says, “It's alright, we got gypped. I'm going to make some calls and take a little time off.”

“Oh,” Selena breathes out in protest, “no no, I couldn't ask you to do that. You're probably busy and-”

Demi cuts Selena off with a finger raised to her own lips.

“It's cool. I've got to catch up with an old friend after all, right?”

Selena's protest dies on her lips and her face relaxes from a look of shock to what might as well be pure joy.

“Right.”

Demi nods and smiles reassuringly, standing slowly.

“Good. Then I'll be back tomorrow then. Is that alright?”

Selena nods.

“Cool. See you tomorrow then.”

“Bye, Demi.”

And with that, she's ushered out of the room by the nurse. Her feet carry her on autopilot to the elevator, then out of the building and over to her driver. The ride back to her hotel is silent, Demi's expression stoic and unchanging. The autopilot takes over again as they arrive at her hotel. Her feet carry her on their own past the front desk and up to her room on the fifteenth floor.

The moment the door closes, everything changes. She collapses backwards against the door, her face contorting as she lets out an agonized sob.

The sounds of her crying are interrupted only by the ringing of her phone, and in her distraught state, she picks up.

“H-h-hello?”

“Dems?” Comes the suddenly reassuring voice of Miley Cyrus, “Dems, babe, what's wrong?”

Demi takes a few seconds to fight back her sobs before she responds.

“Everything.”

Initiate Six Episode One Script Fragment

Sat, 29 Aug 2009 01:40:23 GMT

A fragment of script from the first episode of my ill-fated virtual series.

Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.

[
bottom
]


               TEASER

                                                       FADE IN:

               INT. DARK BEDROOM. NIGHT.

               We're given a slow 360 degree view of a darkened bedroom. It
               is sparsely decorated, with a simple bookstand that has
               barely been filled and an ornate bureau. Our view travels
               upward and angles until we're over the bed, looking down on
               its occupant, a woman in her mid-twenties who is sleeping
               restlessly with a troubled expression. Sweat drips from her
               forehead and she mutters incoherently.

                                                       FLASH TO:

               EXT. ALLEYWAY. NIGHT.

               A dark alleyway, with a lone woman wandering down it, looking
               nervous, greets us. As she comes closer, we see she's the
               woman from the bedroom. She closes her jacket tightly and
               looks over her shoulder with a fearful expression.

                                                       FLASH TO:

               INT. DARK BEDROOM. NIGHT.

               The woman twists even more fitfully as she continues to
               dream. Her hands curl tightly into balls, the thin sheet the
               only thing keeping her from making gouges in her palms.

                                                       FLASH TO:

               EXT. ALLEYWAY. NIGHT.

               As our intrepid heroine continues her trek through the
               alleyway, lights from the enclosing buildings show us that
               she is well dressed, in a nice coat and makeup. She seems
               particularly out of place among the dirty, wet alley. She
               looks over her shoulder once again, her location obviously
               making her more and more anxious by the minute. She turns
               back toward us and stops in her tracks. A shadow-cloaked man
               has stepped into the alley.

                                   MAN
                             (smugly)
                         Well well well... What have we got
                         here?

                                                       FLASH TO:

               INT. DARK BEDROOM. NIGHT.

               The woman is in total nightmare mode at this point, tossing
               with abandon and kicking all of her blankets off. She
               suddenly calms down slightly as her dream reaches it's apex.
               She whimpers quietly.

                                                       FLASH TO:

               EXT. ALLEYWAY. NIGHT.

               The woman is struggling against the man's tight grip, her
               back to the wall and her jacket thrown away. It's apparent
               they've been locked in struggle for some time now.

                                   MAN
                         Come on now, honey, won't hurt but
                         for a moment!

               He tears her shirt open at the neck, popping the top few
               buttons off. She acts on instinct and headbutts him, hard. He
               stumbles back a little bit and she takes a moment to take in
               what she's done before turning and tearing off. Her moment of
               shock, however, allows him to recover and he grabs her arm.
               With a growl, he throws her against the wall and presses
               himself against her back. He leans in, his mouth next to her
               ear.

                                   MAN
                         Just take it like a good little
                         girl, eh? It'll be over before you
                         know it.

               His hands are on her dress pants now, his stubby fingers
               fumbling with the button. She closes her eyes against the
               inevitable. Suddenly, a swish and a sharp THWACK! are heard,
               and the hands are gone, as is the pressure against her back.
               She turns to see her savior, but is greeted by the sight of
               an empty alley and her assailant's prostrate body. She tilts
               her head in confusion before realizing the man is beginning
               to stir. Fearful, she turns to grab her jacket but is met
               with the sight of a black clad food holding the jacket down.
               She looks upward to see who it is and is shocked to see a man
               dressed very much like some sort of secret agent, clad all in
               black including a tight black hood on his face and
               nightvision goggles. She stares up at him for a moment before
               he twirls a baton and brings it across her face with a crack.

                                                       SMASH CUT TO:

               INT. BACK OF VAN. NIGHT.

               The woman wakes slowly from unconsciousness to find that
               she's in the back of a van, surrounded by three people. She
               finds that she's strapped down. She looks to her right as her
               fear visibly builds to see an IV dripping into her arm, and
               quickly looks up at one of the people sitting beside her. The
               slighly blurry figure reaches out to stroke her face, then
               leans in.

                                   WOMAN
                             (whispering)
                         It's time to wake up, Alana.

                                                       FLASH TO:

               INT. DARK BEDROOM. NIGHT.

               ALANA sits up in bed, breathing heavily. She closes her eyes
               to catch her breath. When she opens her eyes again, she sees
               the black clad man who hit her in her dream standing over
               her. She starts to scream, but he covers her mouth with his
               hand.

                                   MAN
                         It's time to wake up, Alana.

                                                       FLASH TO:

               INT. BEDROOM. DAY.

               Alana sits up in bed yet again, breathing heavily. On her
               obviously freaked expression, we:

               BLACK OUT.

               END OF TEASER

               ACT ONE

                                                       FADE IN:

               INT. BEDROOM. DAY.

               Alana is sitting up in bed, sweat covering her face and her
               breathing labored. Sunlight is streaming into the room,
               painting a much more peaceful picture than her dream. She
               looks around quickly, obviously not recognizing her
               surroundings. She looks down at her arm and recoils when she
               sees an IV dripping some sort of fluid into her. Repulsed,
               she rips the needle from her arm and quickly swings herself
               out of bed. It takes a full two seconds for her to realize
               how weak her legs are and fall over.
               As she falls, she grabs out wildly and knocks over a tall
               lamp standing at her bedside. She lands in a heap just as the
               lamp crashes beside her.

                                   ALANA
                         Well, shit.

               She takes a look around and begins to plan her escape from
               this unfamiliar place when she hears rapid footsteps. She
               pauses and stares at the door apprehensively. There's a
               moment of silence before the door swings open to reveal a
               balding man in a white doctor's coat, a stethoscope around
               his neck and a clipboard in his hand.

                                   DOCTOR
                         Miss Morgan!

               Wearing a surprised look, he scurries over to help her up. As
               he bends down to assist her, she glances at his name tag,
               which reads DOCTOR WILLIAMS.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                             (strained)
                         While I must certainly express my
                         surprise that you're awake, I have
                         to wonder what brought about the
                         sudden urge to go for a jog!

               With Alana safely back in bed, Doctor Williams goes to
               business, pulling a flashlight out of his jacket pocket and
               examining her eyes. He nods once, then makes notes on his
               clipboard. Alana takes a moment to look around in a rather
               confused manner, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her
               ear. She looks back to the doctor, who is fiddling with the
               IV.

                                   ALANA
                         I'm sorry to bother you, but where
                         am I? And, for that matter, who are
                         you?

               The doctor looks up sharply.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         You mean you don't know?

                                   ALANA
                         I'm afraid not.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         Well, this is certainly
                         interesting. Here, let me just get
                         this set back up...

               He goes to re-insert the IV, but Alana lashes out with
               blinding speed and in the next moment has his arm twisted in
               a painful manner, the IV now dropped and dangling uselessly.

                                   ALANA
                         Answers. Now.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         I-i-indeed. Please, let me go and
                         I'll answer any questions you have.

               Alana starts, as though she just realized what she had done
               and releases the powerful grip she has his arm in. He
               gratefully flexes his hand and straightens his coat. He then
               takes another moment to compose himself.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS (CONT'D)
                         Your name is Alana Morgan, and
                         you're twenty-fi--

                                   ALANA
                         I know who I am. I know how old I
                         am. If pressed, I could probably
                         recall my blood type and social
                         security number. I asked about my
                         whereabouts and who you are. Now,
                         get to it.

               Doctor Williams is stunned for a moment.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         You honestly know who you are? Your
                         memories are intact?

                                   ALANA
                         That's right.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         No major holes? Nothing hazy or
                         difficult to recall?

                                   ALANA
                         Only for however many days I've
                         been out. And possibly an hour or
                         so before that.

               Doctor Williams pauses thoughtfully for a moment, then turns
               on his heel and walks out. He returns quickly, carrying a
               chair, which he sets beside her bed.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         I need you to recount for me as
                         much as you can remember before you
                         woke up here. Every detail.

               Alana looks at him warily for a second.

                                   ALANA
                         If I do this, will I get my
                         answers?

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         Absolutely.

                                   ALANA
                         Fine.

                                                       FADE TO:

               INT. OFFICE. DAY. - FLASHBACK

               Alana sits behind a large desk, typing on a laptop at a
               furious pace. She's dressed in a nice red button down shirt
               and snappy dress pants. She pauses to sip from a take-away
               coffee cup, then jots a note down on her legal pad. Then she
               resumes typing.

                                   ALANA (V.O.)
                         I had gotten to work late and I was
                         working to finish up a proposal on
                         the new computer network for the
                         law firm I worked for. One of the
                         technicians under me had been
                         fired, and he decided that before
                         he cleared his desk he would wreck
                         havoc on my network. Needless to
                         say, I was swamped.

               Making one final, victorious stroke of her keyboard, she
               saves the document and closes her laptop quickly, hurrying
               out of the room.

                                   ALANA (V.O.)
                         Since I was late getting out of
                         there, I wanted to rush to get to
                         the bus before the last run.

                                                       CUT TO:

               EXT. BUS STOP. NIGHT

               Alana is standing, a dejected look on her face as she waits.
               She's wearing the same coat as the one in her dream.

                                   ALANA (V.O.)
                             (dry)
                         I failed.

                                                       CUT TO:

               EXT. ALLEYWAY. NIGHT.

               A dark alleyway, with a lone woman wandering down it, looking
               nervous, greets us. She closes her jacket tightly and looks
               over her shoulder with a fearful expression.

                                   ALANA (V.O.)
                         I decided that instead of waiting
                         for a taxi I'd just walk home. It
                         was only fourteen blocks, and it's
                         a known fact that the taxi drivers
                         aren't exactly responsive late at
                         night. Or ever, really.

               As Alana continues her trek through the alleyway, lights from
               the enclosing buildings show us that she is well dressed, in
               a nice coat and makeup. She seems particularly out of place
               among the dirty, wet alley. She looks over her shoulder once
               again, her location obviously making her more and more
               anxious by the minute. She turns back toward us and stops in
               her tracks. A shadow-cloaked man has stepped into the alley.

                                   MAN
                             (smugly)
                         Well well well... What have we got
                         here?

                                   ALANA (V.O.)
                         And then...I was cornered. This guy
                         stepped out of the shadows all
                         lurky and decided he wanted some
                         late night action. I guess he
                         figured, you know, young woman, all
                         alone, why not? And then, just when
                         I had pretty much given up, the man
                         was gone.

               His hands are on her dress pants now, his stubby fingers
               fumbling with the button. She closes her eyes against the
               inevitable. Suddenly, a swish and a sharp THWACK! are heard,
               and the hands are gone, as is the pressure against her back.

                                   ALANA (V.O.)
                         So when I turned around to play the
                         part of the grateful damsel
                         recently-in-distress, my glorious
                         savior was gone.
                         And then, when I decided to split,
                         there he is, a Sam Fisher wannabe,
                         and he whacks me across the face
                         with his stick.

                                                       FADE TO:

               INT. BEDROOM. DAY.

                                   ALANA
                         And that's all I can remember.

               A silence invades the room as Doctor Williams sits back in
               his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. Alana watches him
               for a moment, an expectant look on her face. When he remains
               silent, she leans forward a bit and waves her hand in front
               of his face.

                                   ALANA (CONT'D)
                         Anything interesting going on in
                         there?

               Doctor Williams starts, pulled out of his thoughts. He shakes
               his head to clear his mind, then leans forward.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         Alana... It seems to me that all of
                         your memories are indeed intact.

                                   ALANA
                         Well, don't you just have a talent
                         for the obvious?

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         Yes, quite. However, there is a
                         small problem with how you're
                         recalling everything.

                                   ALANA
                         Oh, really? And what is that,
                         exactly?

               Doctor Williams pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes
               his eyes shut tightly, as though trying to evade a
               particularly unpleasant thought. When he opens his eyes, he
               sighs and looks at Alana with something akin to sympathy.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         Alana... None of those things that
                         you described ever happened.
               Off Alana's shocked face, we: 

                                                       SMASH CUT TO:

               INT. PLANNING ROOM. TIME UNKNOWN.

               Four figures stand hunched over a slightly glowing table top.
               The light emanating from the table gives us a decent idea of
               the contents of the rather small planning room: multiple
               computers, a rack of weapons on one wall, and a large world
               map with multiple glowing points.

                                   FIGURE #1
                         Okay, intel says that she's awake.
                         So that makes two of them at this
                         point.

                                   FIGURE #2
                         They're definitely taking far
                         longer than we had hoped for.

               Our view pans over the planning table, which houses several
               transparencies of key people, including Alana. We are then
               given a look at the four people around the table. All are
               young, probably in their late twenties or early thirties. The
               first of them to speak is a woman with sharp Greek features.
               This is ACACIA ERASMUS.

                                   ACACIA
                         It shouldn't be a problem. We've
                         waited months for this to come
                         about, I'd say waiting a few more
                         days for the rest to wake up
                         shouldn't be a problem.

               The second figure to speak, a muscled Japanese man named
               HAKARU SATO, wheels a chair over from one of the computer
               terminals.

                                   HAKARU
                         Any more than a few days, though,
                         and our window will be closed. I'd
                         say we have maybe two weeks.

               A third figure, this one the obvious American of the group
               with soft features and buzz-cut brown hair, rubs his chin
               thoughtfully. His name is RADLEY KEACH.

                                   RADLEY
                         To be honest, that's our window
                         where the job will be easiest. We
                         could realistically pull it off
                         anytime within the month.

               The final figure of the group, ILLARA VAN HOFF, is a well
               dressed woman in her early twenties, possibly the youngest
               there. She steps forward and separates a few of the
               transparencies, studying them thoughtfully.

                                   ILLARA
                         And if we did it before the others
                         are awake? What would happen then?

                                   ACACIA
                         That's not an option. Chances are,
                         they'd be killed instantly. We
                         can't risk that. We need them
                         alive.

               Illara nods, obviously accepting this answer as satisfactory.
               Hakaru then lifts up the transparency of Alana and examines
               it closely.

                                   HAKARU
                         Then we wait. But if we run out of
                         time, we go in regardless.
                             (off the transparency)
                         She is the key. The others are
                         merely door prizes.

                                                       CUT TO:

               INT. BEDROOM. DAY.

               Alana is still sitting in shock, Doctor Williams' words
               seeming to unsettle her. The IV has been reinserted and the
               doctor is bustling about, checking vitals and other such
               doctorly things.

                                   ALANA
                         So... You're saying that all these
                         memories that I have just... Didn't
                         happen?

               Doctor Williams stops for a moment, then nods succinctly.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         That's right.

                                   ALANA
                         So... That pretty much means I'm
                         not really who I think I am.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                             (beat)
                         Correct.

               Alana lays back on her bed and closes her eyes.

                                   ALANA
                         I need some time to think.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         But... You had questions?

                                   ALANA
                         You staying in this house?

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         For the duration of your recovery,
                         yes.

                                   ALANA
                         Then I'll find you when I'm ready.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         If that is what you wish...

               With that, Doctor Williams steps back out of the room and
               closes the door. On the closed door we:

               BLACK OUT.

               END OF ACT ONE

               ACT TWO

               INT. OFFICE. TIME UNKNOWN

               We're treated to a very metallic looking room. A silver desk
               houses a plain computer monitor, along with a keyboard and
               mouse. Before the desk are two plain silver chairs. There are
               no windows. Seated behind the desk is a MAN in his late
               sixties. He is dressed in a sharp grey suit and is glancing
               over a small folder of papers, cursing under his breath every
               now and then as well as making little marks in black pen on
               the paper. There is a knock on the door, which he
               acknowledges with the press of a button built into his desk.
               Still looking at this man, we hear the door open with a
               nearly imperceptible creak, and then close quietly. The man
               looks up.

                                   MAN
                         I hope you have good news for me.

               We pan around to see the man who just entered, Doctor
               Williams.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                             (uncertain)
                         You could say that.

               The man quirks his head and motions for the doctor to sit. As
               he does, our view pans sideways into the wall, transitioning
               to:

               INT. BEDROOM. DAY.

               Alana is laying on her bed in much the same position that she
               was when we left her. Her mouth is set in a tight frown and
               her eyes are closed as she mulls over the information the
               doctor had left her with.

                                   ALANA
                         He didn't even tell me what was
                         wrong with me.

               She opens her eyes and looks around for something to support
               her weight with. She sees only the IV rack. Seeming to take
               only a moment to decide, she swings her legs out of bed and
               carefully pulls the IV needle out of her arm, trying to avoid
               any more trauma to the insertion point. Once that's done, she
               takes the IV bag off the rack and tosses it away carelessly.

                                   ALANA (CONT'D)
                         Well, here goes nothing.

               She tentatively stands, holding all of her weight on the tall
               metal stand. Testing her balance and deeming it acceptable
               with a nod, she slowly hobbles out of the room and into the
               hallway.

                                   ALANA (CONT'D)
                         Left or right? The great question
                         asked again.

               Deciding quickly, she takes a left turn and makes her way
               down the hall, stopping again at the end. There are no doors
               save one, which appears to be an elevator. Looking around for
               a button to call the elevator, she sees only a gridded pad.
               Doing the obvious, she places her hand over it and waits
               patiently for the car to reach her floor. Once it does and
               she's inside, the doors close and a mechanical voice sounds.

                                   ELEVATOR VOICE
                         State your number please.

               Alana jumps a bit at this unexpected request.

                                   ALANA
                         I-I'm sorry?

                                   ELEVATOR VOICE
                         State your number please. Failure
                         to comply will result in removal
                         from this installation.

                                   ALANA
                         I don't know what you're talking
                         about, erm...Crazy computer voice.

                                   ELEVATOR VOICE
                         Lockdown level three initiated.
                         Resistance will be met with force.
                         Have a nice day.

               The light in the elevator turns red and the lights on the
               number pad go out as the car begins to descend at a high
               speed. Alana is forced to let go of the rack and brace
               herself on the rails. As the car screeches to a halt, she is
               thrown to the floor. Unlike before, however, she finds that
               she can stand on her own.

                                   ALANA
                         Huh. I guess mystery-me is a quick
                         healer.

               The doors slide open with a ding and she's met with a gun
               barrel in her face.

                                   SOLDIER #1
                         You are not authorized for entry.
                         We're under orders to take you in
                         for questioning.

               Behind the first soldier are four others, all toting MP5
               submachine guns.

                                   SOLDIER #1 (CONT'D)
                         Don't make this difficult, miss.

               From the tone of his voice, and the faces of the soldiers
               behind him, it is apparent that he indeed wants her to make
               things difficult. Something awakens inside Alana and there is
               a subtle change in her expression. Confidence is clearly
               present.

                                   ALANA
                         Questioning, eh? You know, somehow
                         I don't think I have the answers
                         you want. But...

               She trails off and slowly walks up to the soldier, trailing a
               finger down his chest as his grip on the weapon tightens.

                                   ALANA
                         Maybe we can work something out,
                         hmm? A little deal?

               She grins saucily at him, and he takes a moment to glance
               back at his men. That's all she needs. With lightning speed
               her hands shoots up and grabs his wrist. She twists his arm
               around behind his back and turns him to face his men, his gun
               arm now useless.

                                   ALANA (CONT'D)
                         Now that was absolutely too easy.

                                   SOLDIER #1
                             (to his men)
                         You know your orders! If assaulted,
                         shoot to kill.

                                   ALANA
                         Okay, maybe not so easy.

               Obviously heeding his words, the four men raise their guns
               and prepare to open fire, orders over riding any concern they
               may have for their leader. That's the only prompting Alana
               needs. With one clean downward strike of her unused arm she
               breaks the Soldier's at the elbow. Putting a hand on either
               side of his head, she uses his neck as a swivel to swing
               around and kick out at the nearest soldier. There are two
               audible cracks and both the first and second soldiers fall to
               the floor, necks broken.

                                   SOLDIER #3
                         Fire! Fire!

               Just as soon as the order is out of his mouth, Alana is on
               her feet, coming at him at attack speed. Her hand finds his
               throat as soon as it's in range, pressing him against the
               wall and lifting him up it, her other hand on his gun hand.
               Without looking away from his face, she lifts the gun, his
               hand not leaving the handle, and fires off two bursts,
               dropping the remaining two men. With a negligable motion, she
               wrenches the gun from his hand and ejects the magazine before
               tossing it away.

                                   ALANA
                         So. What now?

                                   SOLDIER #3
                         You're...You're not going to kill
                         me?

                                   ALANA
                         Nah. I didn't exactly mean to kill
                         the others, but everything I did
                         seemed like some kind of pre
                         programmed response.

                                   SOLDIER #3
                         You could...Um...Let me take you
                         in.

                                   ALANA
                         Don't think so. Hey, I know!

               She lowers him down the wall a little bit, seeming to be
               unaware of the fact that she's holding up a man nearly twice
               her weight with only one arm.

                                   ALANA
                         How about we pay a visit to your
                         boss? I think I'd like to meet him.

                                                       CUT TO:

               INT. OFFICE. TIME UNKNOWN

               Doctor Williams is sitting calmly in one of the plain metal
               chairs while the older man paces behind his desk.

                                   MAN
                         We could use this to our advantage.

                                   DOCTOR WILLIAMS
                         So...You don't want me to proceed
                         with treatment?

                                   MAN
                         No. Not yet, at least. Let's see
                         how this current situation plays
                         out. If we can't use what's given
                         to us, then we will apply
                         treatment.

               Doctor Williams nods and stands, picking up a folder on the
               table and gathering the contents up.

                                   INTERCOM
                         Mr. McHale, there's a woman here to
                         see you.

               The man, obviously Mr. McHale, glances at Doctor Williams
               curiously.

                                   MCHALE
                         I wasn't aware I had any meetings
                         today.

                                   INTERCOM
                         Well sir, you don't. However, this
                         young woman is demanding to see
                         you.

                                   MCHALE
                         Tell her to make an appointment and
                         come back later.

                                   INTERCOM
                         Sir, I would, but she has me in a
                         very compromising position.

                                   MCHALE
                         And what sort of position would
                         that be?

                                   INTERCOM
                         Well, sir, she has a knife to my
                         neck.

               McHale looks sharply at Doctor Williams, who has a panicked
               expression on his face. There is a moment of silence, then
               McHale goes to his desk. He pulls out a perfectly polished
               Walther pistol and checks to make sure a round is chambered.

                                   INTERCOM (CONT'D)
                             (nervous)
                         Sir? What should I do sir?

                                   MCHALE
                             (pauses)
                         Send her in.

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 Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.

The Beginning of My Username and an Old Project

Thu, 27 Aug 2009 01:59:39 GMT

This is a project I started years ago. I was planning to write a virtual tv series in script format and got as far as a layout of Season One before I stopped working on it. I thought you all might be interested to see where it started, though I doubt I'll ever work on it again.

Initiate Six - Episode Listing (Season One)

1x01 - Awakening
1x02 - Dinner Party
1x03 - Jake
1x04 - Rain, Rain, Go Away
1x05 - Faces of the Past
1x06 - Friends Close, Enemies Closer
1x07 - Sick
1x08 - Do You Believe In Ghosts?
1x09 - Four Down, Two to Go
1x10 - Disaster
1x11 - Awakening, Redux

Initiate Six - Main Characters (Season One)

Alana Morgan, A.K.A Initiate 6
Jake Mitchell, A.K.A Initiate 1
Keira Webber, A.K.A Initiate 4
Mark Bachelder, A.K.A Initiate 5
Kal Arnolds, A.K.A Initiate 2
Max Thomas, A.K.A Initiate 3
Gregory McHale, "Agency" Leader
Acacia Erasmus, Rogue Team Member 1
Hakaru Sato, Rogue Team Member 2
Elise Van Hoff, Rogue Team Member 3
Radley Keach, Rogue Team Member 4

Initiate Six begins with the awakening of our main character, Alana Morgan, in a room that she doesn't recognize, her arm home to an IV dripping an unknown drug into her bloodstream. She soon finds out that she's been in a dissociative coma for the better part of a year, and that the entirety of her memories are a fabrication, the result of an experiment in genetic modification. She's the sixth member of a six unit special forces team belonging to a private contractor, known to the public only as The Agency and within the company and government as Black Box. As she and the other Initiates come out of their comas, the results of the aforementioned genetic conditioning are tested, showing them to have increased reflexes, superhuman strength and inherent combat knowledge. They are then sent out on missions, save for one: Jake Mitchell, also known as Initiate One. The genetic conditioning and resulting coma have driven him mad, making him a rogue who must be treated as unusually dangerous due to his higher than average results to the conditioning.

As Alana and her associates become accustomed to their powers, things begin to go horribly wrong. First, the entire planet becomes wracked with natural disasters. Death tolls rise, entire nations disappear under floods and hurricanes, and society as we know it breaks down. Then, the very next day, everything is back to normal. No damage, no deaths, and stranger still: no one remembers what happened save for the Initiate squad. They aren't given time to ponder this, however, as soon after the "day that no one remembers", members of the Initiate team begin to fall sick, and in extreme cases begin slipping back into their comas. However, the drug that would save them, one recently developed by The Agency as a back up plan should these side-effects to the genetic conditioning occur, has been stolen by a suddenly coherent and ruthless Jake. As the members of her team slowly fall prey to this disease, she hurries with the remaining member of her team, Kal Arnolds (Initiate Two), to retrieve the antidote from Jake and end him once and for all. All around them, however, strange things are cropping up again. Supernatural beasts, ghosts and things out of nightmares are beginning to roam the streets, slaughtering those in their path.

With no time left to fight these creatures, Alana and Kal catch up with Jake and have their showdown, taking the fight from the ruins of an urban parking garage to the city's underground, which is crawling with beasts. As the disease begins to take Kal, the task of retrieving the drug and defeating Jake is left to Alana. Finally cornering the former leader of her squad, she literally holds him over death's edge, hanging him from the roof of an office building as she questions him. In response to her final question, "What is happening to us?", he merely grins and holds out the vial of antidote tauntingly. He chuckles and in a voice filled with mirth proclaims, "It's time to wake up, Alana." And with that he drops the vial, letting it fall to the streets below.

Alana drops him in shock, watching in amazement as he disappears just after leaving her fingers. However, she is unable to recover from this and get back to Kal as she feels her body begin to succumb to the disease. As she falls to her knees, her body beginning to seize, various images flash before her eyes before a flash of white.

When she wakes, she's being carried from a burning medical facility, her vision clears enough for her to see that she's wearing typical medical garb. She feels a person on either side of her body helping to carry her, as well as someone behind her, supporting her head. She looks up into the face of Jake, trademark grin on his face, this one unmarred by madness, as he says, "You're finally awake. Glad you could join us."

Season one ends there.

INITIATE SIX CHARACTER INFO

Alana Morgan, Initiate Six - Our heroine, protagonist, number one gal, etc. Thinks something's fishy from the start and goes by her basic rule of trust no one, despite her building friendships with Kiera and Kal.

Jake Mitchell, Initiate One - The closest we could get to an antagonist without creating a twirly-moustached frenchman. Jake is immensely powerful, stronger than the others combined, and partially insane. However, moments of sanity peek through, hinting at an alternate agenda on Jake's part.

Kiera Webber, Initiate Four - One of Alara's closer friends in the group, Kiera is the group's raging feminist/mother figure, keeping everyone in line and staying strong through thick and thin. Is the butt of numerous lesbian jokes because of her extreme feminism.

Mark Bachelder, Initiate Five - Mark is the loner of the group, often remaining behind during missions to act as a mission coordinator and info gatherer. His specialty is computers and the art of breaking into them. With a gun he's not much to speak of, but put a blade in his hands and he's unstoppable.

Kal Arnolds, Initiate Two - Kal is the quick-witted and inquisitive second-in-command to Max, though he doesn't want to be. Since awakening, he's been wracked with a nagging feeling that he needs to be somewhere, and is reluctant to participate in Agency missions, though he does so out of curiosity.

Max Thomas, Initiate Three - Max is the resident class clown, and the team's leader. A democrat at heart, he take the "badass leader" position around Greg, but otherwise he defers to his team, usually going by their decisions and leaving the leading for emergencies.

Gregory McHale - The leader of the Agency. A reserved man in his early seventies, he has stated on more than one occasion that he "does not exist", a statement taken by the squad as a testament to the secrecy of their operation. Little is known about him.

Dr. Williams - The physician/scientist in charge of the Initiate program, he is a knowledgable man in his sixties with a penchant for tinkering. Believed to be the information leak within the Agency, he is eliminated, but somehow returns later with startling information.

The Rogues - Nothing is known about these characters, aside from the fact that they are anti-Agency and are lead by four higher-ups.

INITIATE SIX EPISODE LAYOUTS

1x01 - Awakening

Alana wakes up in a mysterious house, being tended to by a physician who claims to be under the employment of her supervisor, a man named Gregory McHale, head of The Agency. Over the course of a day, Alana learns a bit about what happened to her, the background of The Agency, and a bit about her past. She and Initiate Four are sent out on a training mission after a night of rest, both discovering that something is very, very strange about all of this.

1x02 - Dinner Party

Kiera and Alana are sent out on their first real mission for The Agency - crash a ritzy dinner party, held by none other than one of the foremost anti-government leaders in the region. Things quickly degenerate when they learn that not only is their presence at the party known by their mark beforehand, but this dinner party is a meeting of the minds to decide just what to do about The Agency.

1x03 - Jake

Initiate One, Jake Mitchell, awakes from his coma to find himself in much the same situation as Alana and Kiera, with one particular difference - his prolonged comatose state has driven him insane. He attempts to break out of the Agency facilities, leading the Agency Recovery Team in a brutal game of cat and mouse through the complex until backup arrives in the form of Initiates Four and Six.

1x04 - Rain, Rain, Go Away

A week has passed since Jake's escape from Agency hands and no word has been heard from him. The other members of the Initiate squad have awakened from their slumbers without incident and have begun active duty with Alana and Kiera. On a routine recon mission, the group are caught in the midst of a hurricane-grade storm. Taking shelter in what appears to be an abandoned building, they tune into a radio station that is proclaiming apocalypse-level storms and disasters happening all over the world. As the group waits out the storm, it becomes increasingly obvious that something is wrong, and their feelings are confirmed when they're ambushed by Jake.

1x05 - Faces of the Past

As the group and Jake stand in a quiet, tense stalemate, each of the main characters has a flashback to their dreamed lives, each memory simple and unassuming but layered with meaning to the current situation. Interspersing these memories are quick bouts of intense battle, where Jake proves that he is somehow stronger and faster than all of the others combined, leaving them deadlocked. After a final quick bout pitting Alana one on one with Jake, he dispatches our heroine and manages to scamper off with the data that they recovered on their assignment.

1x06 - Friends Close, Enemies Closer

Waking from a shaky night, the squad venture out from their shelter to find the world exactly as it had been before the storms - with absolutely no trace of what had happened. Deciding to investigate later, the agents return to base to report on their mission only to be individually debriefed and given startling information - there is a spy within The Agency, and it could be anyone, even one of the squad.

1x07 - Sick

With the supposed information leak silenced within The Agency, things can begin to return to normal - or not. Without warning, Initiate Three falls ill, going from general instability to a comatose state much like the one that they each awoke from not too long ago. Just as things begin to fall apart, even worse news breaks ground - Greg has gone missing. Left with no leadership, and with their current team leader down for the count, Alana steps up and takes command. Their first objective: Find Jake.

1x08 - Do You Believe in Ghosts?

As Alana and Kal set off to track down Jake, Kiera and Mark are left to watch over Max as well as try to learn the whereabouts of Greg, as well as find out what they can about the mystery illness. However, things go awry as the Agency headquarters are suddenly attacked from the inside and outside by things not of this earth - ghosts, demons, and other unspeakable nightmare creatures. Unsure of what's happening, Kiera is left to defend Max as Mark heads into The Agency's central access to gather data before retreat. However, Kiera has more pressing matters than beating back some beasties - Dr. Williams is back.

1x09 - Disaster

Kiera may have her hands full at headquarters, but Alana and Kal have found their mark and he's proving to be a tough kill. As the world degenerates around them and more violent bursts of supernature shake the very foundations of reality, Jake gives them their toughest fight yet, seemingly filled with a need to prevent the group from getting access to the antidote. In a final showdown, Alana and Jake take the fight head to head on the roof of an abandonded, monster infested office building as Kal is left in the relative safety of the underground, the disease rendering him unable to fight.

1x10 - Awakening, Redux

As Alana succumbs to the virus, Kiera is left facing Dr. Williams, who has some interesting knowledge to impart upon her. As the facilities fall apart around her, it is she who is suddenly in possession of all the answers, though before she can vocalize anything, she too is taken by the virus. We are then treated to a romp through Alana's slumbering subconscious as she fights monsters, Jake, and four mysterious superhumans in an attempt to reach the light - and ultimately awakens to a new world.

A Good Day [Demi/Selena, Oneshot, G]

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 02:29:52 GMT

Title: A Good Day
Author: initiatesix
Pairing: Demi/Selena
Genre: Futurefic, fluff, romance
Rating: G
Summary: One day in the future, Demi's daughter asks her a question about her past.
Word Count: ~1200

“Mommy, mommy!”

Demi lifts her head in the direction of the young girl's voice, her eyes slowly dragging themselves away from the term paper she'd been working on. Her daughter stands in the doorway of her office in their average sized home, a large grin plastered on her five-year-old face.

“What's up, runt?” She asks with an affectionate smile on her face.

Her daughter's grin widens.

“Barney's on!”

Demi can feel a giant wave of nostalgia washing over her as she gets up from the desk and takes her daughter's hand.

“We'd better go put it on then, yeah?”

The little girl nods very solemnly.

“Yes, mommy, we should.”

And with that, they march into the living room and plop themselves down on the large, cushy couch and flick on the big-screen tv mounted to the wall. Within seconds of changing the channel, the familiar theme song starts and Demi has to restrain herself from singing along. Instead, she examines her daughter as the girl leans against her side, her thumb in her mouth.

Alana Andrea Lovato was born September 14th, 2012, and to this day Demi can vividly remember bringing the little bundle home. Somehow along the way, that little armful, which was more towel and blanket than baby, had grown into this adorable little angel (though sometimes, more of a monster), complete with her mother's dark brown hair and vaguely Italian complexion. Her dark brown eyes are unobscured by her hair, which is cut in a bob that just frames her face, giving her a look of pure innocence.

Perfect for causing trouble, Demi thinks wryly.

The show is already half-over, Demi realizes with vague shock at the length of time she'd been observing her daughter.

“You know what, 'Lana?” she whispers conspiratorially in her daughter's ear.

“What, mommy?” the girl whispers back, her eyes never leaving the screen.

“Mommy used to be on Barney when she was a little girl.”

It takes a few seconds for that little factoid to be processed, but when Alana realizes what her mother has just said, her head whips around and she stares Demi right in the eyes.

“Really!?”

Demi laughs.

“Really! And I have the pictures to prove it.”

“Show me, show me!”

Demi laughs again and scoops her daughter up into her arms, taking her to the master bedroom. She unceremoniously drops the little girl on the bed and, with a hurried “wait here”, she darts into the walk-in closet just off the main part of the bedroom. She can hear her covers being unmade, and a mental image of her little girl burrowing into her until-recently made bed.

Little squirt, she thinks with a smile.

It only takes her a second to find what she's looking for, a plain white box with a single red heart painted on the top, just above the latch. She traces the heart with a slight quirk to her lips before opening it and rifling through the pictures quickly. Finding her target, she snaps the box shut again and bounds out to her room. Sure enough, Alana has burrowed under the covers and is waiting patiently for her mother.

“Did you find it?” She asks excitedly, clutching her stuffed bunny to her chest.

“I did,” Demi replies, waggling the picture in the air, “now scoot over and make me some room.”

Her daughter dutifully slides over, allowing Demi to climb in with her. With a smile she hands the picture over to Alana, who carefully takes it in both hands, her bunny forgotten.

“Is that you, mommy?” She asks, pointing to one of the two girls in the photo.

“Yep,” Demi confirms, taking in the image of herself and another little girl, arms around each other, being hugged by Barney.

“Then who's that?” Alana asks, pointing to the other girl.

“That...” Demi trails off, a wistful smile on her face as the memory of that day washes over her.

“Demi!”

7 year old Demi Lovato turns her head toward the calling voice, her lips breaking into a big grin when she sees her best friend running toward her across the playground set of Barney.

“Selena!” She exclaims, running to meet the girl. They wrap each other in an immense hug, Demi lifting the smaller girl off the ground in her enthusiasm.

“Guess what?” Selena asks, her eyes alight with excitement.

“What, what?” Demi asks, her excitement growing to match her friend's.

“Since the last episode is coming up, we get to do our own magazine picture! Together! Just us! Well, and Barney.”

Demi can feel her excitement ebbing slightly at the mention of the upcoming final episode, but she keeps her grin and hugs Selena tightly.

“That's awesome!” she says into Selena's neck as they hold each other tightly, their hug saying what neither could voice.

They were going to miss each other, more than they could bear.

“You girls ready?” Came the gentle voice of the staff photographer.

“Yeah,” says Selena, turning to face the camera but keeping her arms around Demi. They both felt rather than saw the large body of the Barney costume coming up behind them, and as they held each other and smiled into the camera, they barely felt the furry arms on their shoulders.

“1, 2, 3...smile!”

As the flash replayed in Demi's mind, she's brought back to the real world by Alana's insistent poking.

“Mommy!”

Demi shakes her head, her mind coming back to the present.

“Sorry, baby girl,” she says, “I was just remembering something. What did you ask me?”

“I said,” the little girl said, her voice taking on an air of frustration at having to repeat herself, “Who's the other girl with you?”

“That's...”

“Me,” a new voice finishes for her.

“Momma!” Cries Alana, leaping up out of the covers and taking a bounding jump off the edge of the bed and into her mother's waiting arms.

Demi keeps her spot on the bed, a loving smile crossing her lips, her eyes alight with affection at the sight before her.

“Hey Dems,” the woman says as she approaches the bed with their daughter in her arms.

“Hey Sel,” Demi says in a near whisper as her wife and daughter get onto the bed and crawl up to her. With minimal shuffling, all three are laying under the covers, Alana in the middle of Demi and Selena.

“What were my two favorite girls up to today?” Selena asks Demi over Alana's head, an amused smile quirking on her lips.

Demi's smile takes on an amused tone as well.

“Just storytelling.”

Selena chuckles and leans toward Demi, kissing her softly, quickly on the lips before being interrupted by Alana's indignant voice.

“Hey! Both my mommies were on Barney and no one told me?!” she exclaims, indignant.

Demi and Selena can only laugh and crush their daughter in a group hug.

Today, like any other day, laughter and love fill the Lovato household.

Today, like any other day, is a good day.

Fic - Stand In [Selena Gomez/Taylor Swift, G]

Fri, 31 Jul 2009 02:10:50 GMT

Title: Stand In
Author: initiatesix
Pairing: SelGomez/TaySwift
Genre: Fluff, romance, friendship
Rating: G
Summary: A simple question and a not-so-simple answer
Word Count: ~700

“Sel?”

“Hmm?” I mumble tiredly against her hair.

We're laying together on the bed in her tour bus, her laptop open on her lap with a movie playing, but I'm not really paying attention. I'm finding playing with Taylor's hair to be a much more interesting and entertaining activity.

“What am I to you?”

My fingers freeze, and I can feel a lump appear in my throat.

“What do you mean?”

She pauses the movie with a definitive press of her space bar and sits up, my fingers sliding out of her curls as she does so. She's looking down at me through her glasses, eyes serious, lips thin and grim.

“I don't know...I kind of worry sometimes that I'm just a replacement, a sit in for when things aren't going great between you and Demi.”

It feels like a slap to the face when she says that. I can't help but think that this is just like Taylor, stew over a problem until it just eats away at her self-esteem until there's nothing left but doubt.

I sit up, ignoring the mat I can feel forming in the hair in the back of my head, and cross my legs, facing her.

It's weird but, as I think about it, I realize this could be one of the first serious conversations I've ever had with this girl. A thousand things that I could say flash through my mind, disjointed thoughts joining those excuses until my head is a swirl of “no you're not”s and “that's not true”s mixed with “god, she's gorgeous” and “you're too young, she'd never go for you”.

But when I open my mouth, all that comes out is, “no.”

She opens her mouth to say...something, probably to ask for more, for me to clarify, but I silence her with a hand on her sweat-pants clad thigh.

“Tay, I love Demi. You know that, I know that, she knows that. I love you too, but in a different way.”

“Different how?” She asks, her hand creeping towards mine, like she's fishing for a line of hope.

“I don't know how to explain it...” I trail off, looking down at the bed spread.

Her hand finds mine and grips it tightly.

The silence is deafening, and though it only lasts a few seconds, I'm sure, positive that it's lasted longer.

Then we both start to speak at the same time.

“Tay.”

“Sel.”

We both stop, waiting for the other to continue, until the silence has returned, only this time we're not carefully avoiding each other's gaze.

“You go ahead,” she says finally, softly.

“Okay,” I say, taking in a deep breath, steeling myself.

“When you were performing Love Story tonight, there was something different about it.”

It's like suddenly my gaze has laser intensity, because she can't look away from me fast enough.

“Tay, look at me,” I tell her firmly, my other hand going to her cheek and gently drawing her gaze back to mine.

“Who were you singing to, Tay?”

She closes her eyes quickly, and her lips do one of those funny little smiles, you know, the one where you're smiling and trying not to cry at the same time.

“You, Sel,” she whispers.

“Hey,” I say, my thumb caressing her cheek.

She opens her eyes at my insistence and I give her a small smile in return.

“Good,” I say simply.

And with that, I flop back down onto the pillow, dragging her down with me until her cheek is resting on my shoulder and my fingers are back in her hair, tangling into the curls and massaging her scalp slightly.

“Tay,” I say softly into her ear a while later.

“Yeah?” she responds, just as softly.

“No one could ever replace you.”

She leans up on her elbow, looking down at me, appraising. Then she's leaning forward and her lips are on mine, soft and quick, before she pulls back with a smile.

“Good.”

Her Wish [Demi/Selena, PG-13, Chapter 0 of 5 - Prologue]

Sat, 18 Jul 2009 04:11:47 GMT

Title: Her Wish
Author: initiatesix
Pairing: Demi/Selena
Genre: Romance, Fluff, Drama, AU, Slight Angst
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Singer Demi Lovato is bored of life on the road, and finds herself dreaming of something more. A wish from a dying girl might be the thing she needs to feel alive again.
Word Count: ~970 (come on, it's the prologue, people!)

It's late when Demi finally finds her way onto her tour bus and into what constitutes her private area. It's been a long show, a long tour, and as much as she loves performing, she's been looking forward to some time off for awhile now. Just herself, a beach chair, and the poolside at her LA home.

They're in LA now, the final stop on the tour for her newest album, and though she never thought she'd say this at such a young age as 18, she's tired of constantly being on the road, constantly going to parties, constantly being in the studio. She just wants a break. More than anything, though, she wishes she had someone to share that break; being in showbusiness for most of ones life leaves little time for friendships.

Oh, of course she's got Miley and Taylor, and Trace when he's not being a total skeeve, but lately Demi's been finding herself dreaming of what she never had as a child: a real best friend, the kind you see in the movies who paint each other's nails and tell each other their deepest secrets. More than that, though, she's been dreaming of the future. A future with someone, anyone, who might just understand her for the Demi that she is, not the superstar that everyone else seems to see.

With a loud sigh, she flops herself down onto her bed back first, then sits bolt upright with a yelp. Rubbing her back with an irritated expression, she reaches behind herself with her free hand and grabs at the item that seemed to think it necessary to assault her spine. It's a small brown shipping box with a large “Make-a-Wish Foundation” sticker plastered onto the front. Demi lets a small smile grow across her face.

She'd applied months ago to be a part of the Foundation, but she never thought she'd actually be the subject of anyone's dying wish. So with understandable enthusiasm, she rips the box open and slides out a dvd and a piece of paper.

Ignoring the paper entirely, she quickly inserts the the dvd into her player and hits play.

The screen quickly flicks from black to a young woman, no older than Demi, and maybe only barely younger. The young woman is sitting in a hospital bed with a multitude of IV lines tangled about her person.

Demi can already feel her heart breaking.

“Hi, I'm Selena,” the girl says, giving a tiny wave and a smile to the camera.

She sits there, smiling at the camera for a second, before glancing off to the side, at someone standing behind the camera.

“I don't know what to say,” she stage-whispers, and Demi can't help but giggle a little.

“Just, I don't know, tell them what's wrong with you or something, I don't know. You're the smart one,” a male voice says not unkindly, his voice louder due to his proximity to the camera.

“Fine. Thanks for the help, Dave,” Selena says sarcastically as she turns back to the camera.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me-”

The cameraman's voice is cut off as Selena launches into her own speech with a bright smile at the camera. Demi has a hard time believing this girl is terminally ill until the girl starts to speak again.

“Well, like I said before, my name is Selena, and I'm 18 years old. I didn't actually think the Foundation would get to me,” she confesses with an embarrassed shrug, “but, better late than never, right? Um...A little about me...Well, I have what's called Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, or ALL. Basically, it's a type of cancer. I could go into a big explanation about it, but really, who cares about that stuff anyway?”

Demi almost says “I do” before realizing she's in an empty room still. Almost unsettle at how absorbed she's getting, she looks around self-consciously before returning her attention to the screen.

“The main part of my treatment is what's called Allogenic Bone Marrow Transplant, and thankfully I have a donor in my lovely half brother David. Wave to the camera, David,” she says with a sarcastic grin.

The camera shifts around until an older guy with a slightly arrogant, though not displeasing, smirk is consuming the camera.

“Hi, people!” he says enthusiastically before turning the camera back to Selena.

“Anyway, the marrow isn't the problem,” she says, her face turning serious for what seems like the first time in the video, “the problem is that I have a very rare blood type that makes it nearly impossible to find a red blood cell donor for the marrow transplant. My blood type, for those wondering, is O Rh negative: D- C-E-c+e+, M-S-, Tc(a-), Fy(a-b+), CMV-. Spread that around, tell your friends, maybe one of them has it too.”

Demi's head is reeling from the ease with which Selena rattled off that long string of letters and positives and negatives, and she very nearly misses the most important part of the video.

“Anyway, I was just sitting around one day here in my room at the Texas Medical Center in beautiful Houston, Texas when I got a letter from the foundation saying they were going to grant my wish, except I kind of haven't made one yet...So here it is.”

The girl on the screen takes a deep breath, as though steeling herself for what she's about to say, and Demi finds herself holding her own breath, even though she has an idea of what's coming.

Selena's looking right at the camera, and somehow to Demi it feels as though the girl is looking straight at her.

“I want to spend a day with Demi Lovato.”

Fic - Love [Demi/Selena drabble, NC-17]

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 04:44:22 GMT

Title: Love
Author: initiatesix
Pairing: Demi/Selena
Genre: Fluff, Romance, PWP, Smut
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Demi reflects on what she likes about Selena.
Word Count: ~1000

Demi likes Selena.

She likes the way Selena handles children, soft and caring and oh so motherly in a way that makes her heart fill up every time she witnesses it. When they were filming Princess Protection Program, Selena would always spend time with the kids in between shots for the classroom reading scene. Demi watched on with a small smile as one of the kids, a shy little girl named Jessica, ran up to Selena when they were about to leave and threw her arms around her legs, bawling, asking her not to go.

Selena knelt down and took the girl's hand. And just like that, the girl's sniffles ceased and she gave Selena a teary smile, and asked Selena to read her favorite story to her. And just like that, Selena picked Jessica up and took her to the corner of the makeshift classroom and spent an hour reading to the girl. That one memory makes Demi sure that Selena is destined to be a mother.

Demi likes the way Selena always looks good, regardless of the time of day. She thinks back to One of their sleepovers and remembers waking up, facing a sleeping Selena. Even in the early morning, still asleep after a night of tossing and turning and cover pulling, she still looked like some sort of angel, the morning light filtering through the drapes on Demi's bedroom window and striking Selena's hair and face at an angle, the dust motes illuminated by the sun dancing merrily in tune with Selena's soft breaths. That morning, Demi couldn't help but sneak a kiss on the girl's lips, soft and loving and just enough to satisfy her, but just enough to leave her wanting more.

Demi likes the way Selena eats ice cream, and the striking contrast to her own methods. With Demi, it's all about calculating, finding the perfect way to eat the frozen treat with a minimum of melting and dripping. She always gets hers in a dish, and always with extra napkins just in case. With Selena, it's like laying siege to a barricaded city. She attacks her usual pistachio ice cream with a reckless abandon, her lips and tongue working in such a focused, concerted way that despite her messy way of eating it, not a single melted drop lands on her hands, or the floor, or her clothes. And when she's done, popping the last bite of cone into her mouth, she always looks at Demi with a smug, proud look and gives her lips a long, slow circular lick to clear away the remaining cream.

Demi likes the way Selena can finish her thoughts and sentences, even after all this time they've spent apart lately. It doesn't matter what they're talking about, or who they're with, Selena is just somehow so in tune with what she's thinking, what she's saying, that at times it's like they're a singular mind. But at times their differences couldn't be more pronounced, but really, Demi likes those times even more. It's during those times that she sees the real Selena, a Selena no one else gets to see, one that's passionate and funny and startlingly, intimidatingly intelligent. She likes this side of Selena so much that she'll sometimes say something that's blatantly false, just so Selena will put on her intellect hat and explain her mistake. She knows that Selena knows how much she likes it, and she likes it that Selena plays along, and it only makes her love Selena more.

Demi loves Selena.

She loves the way Selena's toes curl when Demi rubs her back in just the right space, sitting astride the taller brunette and resting her weight on the girl's ass and pushing, kneading, working the actresses tired back muscles in ways that would relax even the stiffest of muscles. She loves the way Selena's moans when her hands move just low enough to be teasing, or when, on their way back up to Selena's shoulders, they'll just barely brush against the soft flesh of her breasts.

She loves the way Selena tastes, her lips looking and tasting like plump strawberries. She's sure that Selena wears that particular lip gloss just for her, and she is eternally grateful to her for that. But it's not just her lips. She loves the way her skin tastes like jasmine and soap, not in a bitter way like soap typically tastes, but something clean and oddly refreshing. She loves the way Selena's nipples stiffen so perfectly when she takes them into her mouth, tongue swirling and lips sucking just hard enough to make her girl's back arch up, to make hands dig into her hair and to make those soft sighs of delight escape her lips. She loves the taste that assaults her when her tongue flicks through soft folds, a heady taste and scent that's subtle and sweet and just so Selena.

She loves the way Selena looks when she's about to come, her eyes shut tight against the world, mouth alternately working between biting her bottom lip tight, almost tight enough to draw blood, and opening and closing in wide mouthed silent cries of ecstasy. She loves the way that Selena tugs at her hair, insistent and demanding just as she's about to go over the edge, her thighs clamping down around Demi's head and her legs holding down her shoulders.

She loves the sound Selena makes when she finally reaches her peak, a long, low, raspy, drawn out moan that's so bassy she's surprised the house doesn't shake.

She loves the way Selena holds here tightly to her as she rides out her orgasm, and she loves the way Selena pulls her up her body and firmly attacks her lips.

She loves the way Selena strokes her hair as she holds her, skin on skin, as they shut out the world in their moment together, this moment of peace and love.

Demi loves Selena.

Always.

7 icons!

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 00:40:07 GMT

[6] Demi Lovato
[1] Demi Lovato/Selena Gomez

Fic - All She Needed [iCarly, Carly/Sam implied]

Mon, 15 Jun 2009 03:34:08 GMT

Title: All She Needed
Author: initiatesix
Pairing: None, really. Cam implied, kinda.
Genre: Gen/Friendship/Drabble
Rating: G
Word Count: 299

On her graduation day, Carly Shay realized a few really important things.

The first was that, as she crossed the podium, she was sure she had made the right decision. Even after all the long hours during clinicals, and the endless studying that had encompassed her first two years, she was without a doubt that the way her heart swelled when her name was announced as “Carly Shay, M.D.” was answer enough.

This was what she wanted to do.

The second thing she realized was that she was absolutely terrified of the future.

All through high school, all through college, all through med school, she'd had a set routine to dive into. She had teachers to try to catch her when she fell, and to help her along when she needed it. Now, she was a doctor. An Emergency Medicine resident at Seattle General, to be precise. There was no more safety net, she was flying solo, she'd lost the training wheels, and all number of other cliches.

As she stepped away from the podium, diploma in hand, to stand with the other graduates, she was consumed by a sudden heart-clenching fear of what was to come.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of blonde hair, illuminated by the afternoon sun.

She took in the sight of her best friend, standing against a tree nonchalantly in her dress blues, badge gleaming against her chest, stark white SWAT patch standing out on her shoulder even from a distance.

In that moment, the fear left her body. She met Sam's eyes and gave her a smile, a private one meant only for the two of them.

She didn't need a safety net, she realized.

She had Sam, and that was all she needed.

Fic - Five Words [iCarly, Non-ship, Spencer/Carly friendship]

Mon, 15 Jun 2009 03:31:16 GMT

Title: Five Words
Author: initiatesix
Pairing: Non-ship; Spencer and Carly friendship
Genre: Gen/Family
Rating: G
Summary: Five words, five stories. A handful of snapshots into the lives of Spencer and Carly.
Word Count: ~1350

Word One – Pez

“Spencer,” I manage to get out around my shocked curiosity.

“Yes, dearest sister?”

“...What is that?”

There are a few moments of silence as he makes the finishing touches on his latest creation.

“Well,” he begins, standing up from his prone position and dusting his pants off, “You know how you guys were trying to figure out how you were going to make a hot air balloon prop for your Spanish Wizard of Oz skit?”

I hesitate before answering, not sure where he's going with this.

“Yeah...”

“I wanted to make you guys the basket part of the hot air balloon, but while I was building it, I got distracted thinking about the yellow brick road and how it looked like it was made of yellow Pez candies, and how the yellow were so much better than the red Pez, and then...” He pauses, looking down at his creation with a sort of affection, spreading his hands out as though presenting a newborn child, “...this happened.”

“Of course,” I chuckle as I sidle up to him and hug him loosely around his waist.

Only my brother could build a balloon basket out of hundreds of Pez dispensers.

Word Two – Beach

It's a standoff. Spencer stands before her with a handful of sea-water soaked mud, looking ready to strike. His body and swim trunks are soaked through, though his hair remains completely dry.

“Spencer...”

“Carly...”

“You know I love you, right?”

“Of course.”

“And if, in the course of showing my love for you, I happened to upend a bucket of water on you while you were sunbathing, I would hope you wouldn't hold that against me.”

“Why would I ever hold that against you?”

“I dunno. Why do you have a handful of mud?”

“This? It's my pet...mudball...”

There's an instant of silence. Then, action.

Carly lets out a shriek and attempts to dart around Spencer, who suddenly has an ecstatic grin plastered on his face.

Her escape is futile as one of his arms closes tight around her, pulling her in, while the other dumps the whole pile of soggy, salty mud onto her head.

“Okay, you've made your point!” Carly yells, though she's fighting laughter.

“Not quite,” her brother responds evilly, “Sam! I need you to help me return this poor suffering fish to the sea!”

At the mention of her name, Sam turns around from her exaggerated posing for Freddie and his new camera. As she takes in the scene before her, a brilliant smile erupts on her face as she sprints over to her best friend.

Amid the shrieking, the laughing, and the half-hearted protests, no one notices Freddie raise his camera, but a week later a new photo hangs happily on the wall of the Shay Loft, Carly being carted off toward the water by Sam and Spencer, all of them alight with laughter.

Word Three – Hero

When Carly was given the assignment to write a report on her hero, it only took her a split second to decide that she was going to write about Spencer.

There wasn't a question in her mind that her older brother was perhaps the most heroic person in her life. When her father went to sea shortly after her eighth birthday, her then 21 year old brother stood up to the entire family, fought to be allowed to look after her. He'd been willing to drop everything important to make her happy, to give her a good home.

When she was nine, and she sat crying on the fire escape after Jeff Wilson had torn up her Valentines card, he was the one who swallowed his discomfort at dealing with a crying little girl and sat next to her, offering her silent support as she got over her first love.

When she was eleven and was in the hospital for three days with appendicitis, he was the one who sat by her bed, holding her hand for the entire 72 hours, the bags under his eyes the products of fatigue and worry. It didn't matter that she had a routine illness, and an equally routine surgery, he kept vigil as though they were her last days, and with his strength she was never once scared, not even when she was put under.

But most of all, the things that made Spencer heroic in her eyes were the little things, the things that made up his overall person.

He was funny, he was creative, and he was unabashedly unique. He loved life and loved experiencing everything the world could throw at him. He stood defiant in the worst of times and laughed wholeheartedly in the best of times.

He was the most solid thing in her life, and nothing would change her idea that her brother was perhaps the greatest person alive.

Word Four – Doubt

Spencer was a confident person, for the most part. He had never had a self-conscious moment in his life, at least not when it really mattered. The only time he felt doubt, really, was when he looked at Carly.

Ever since he took her in, he'd been terrified out of his mind that he would screw something up. With every birthday that passed, he was sure that he was going to do something, anything, to drive her away or break her. Because he knew that he screwed up sometimes, and the one nightmare that never went away was the one that he would someday lose his little sister.

But any time he had those doubts, he'd ease his way into her room, late at night when the moon would peek through her window and illuminate the room with a soft blue glow. He'd take a seat next to her bed and just watch her for a few minutes, her face peaceful with sleep, hair fanned out on her pillow while she snored softly.

And he'd smile, and for a few minutes he'd know that somehow, he'd done it. He hadn't failed her, and that was the most important thing to him.

Word Five – Cake

“Spencer! Sam!” I shouted as I flew down the stairs from my room, remnants of the explosion I'd heard still echoing in my ears. I entered the kitchen to find my brother and my best friend on the floor, covered in overly moist cake and frosting, with more dripping down from the ceiling.

“We're okay!” Spencer said from his position, on his stomach with his hands over his head. It was like he'd jumped away from a grenade.

“What happened?” I asked, concerned, as I helped Sam up. She was definitely okay, I noticed. Once she was on her feet, she took a bite of the cake that had attached itself to her hair with a muttered “chocolate-y”.

“Well, Sam and I wanted to make you an awesome birthday cake, so she came over early and helped me make a cake mold out of some spare pans I had laying around, and we both agreed that she should do the actual cooking, because I still haven't figured out why everything I touch bursts into flames, but when we slid the cake out of the oven to check it, it kind of exploded, and I'm sorry we made your cake into a bomb.”

It all came out in a rush. He was standing by this point, some cake in his hands with more all over his clothes.

With a huge smile of relief I gathered my brother and Sam into a giant hug, uncaring of the moist remnants of cake on their bodies.

It was in the middle of our little group hug that something occurred to me.

“Spencer.”

“Yes?”

“If the cake exploded while you were still cooking it, why is there frosting on the ceiling?”

“Sam and I had a frosting fight.”

“Of course you did.”

Fic - Crazy [iCarly, Carly-centric, Sam/Spencer implied]

Mon, 15 Jun 2009 03:28:01 GMT

Title: Crazy (1/1)
Author: initiatesix
Pairing: Implied Spam
Genre: Gen, romance, drama, humor
Rating: PG-13 for some blatant innuendo
Summary: Carly thinks she's the only one that sees it, and maybe she is.
Word Count: ~1900

I can't be the only one that sees this. I mean, god only knows that I'm not always the sharpest knife in the drawer, so if I'm seeing this, other people must, right?

Except they don't. For some reason, when the three of us are together, I'm the one catching every look, every unintended innuendo, while the rest of the world moves on around us. I mean, god, am I the only sane one here?

I mean, really, is it just me, or is SPENCER totally hitting on SAM?

And it's not like this was a gradual thing, no sir. It was like, Sam's eighteenth hit and BAM!, some mysterious switch was thrown and all of a sudden he's being putting on his best moves and doing that weird thing he does where he tries to flirt but it comes out wrong and he's still suave, which makes no sense, and ARGH.

The worst part, though?

The worst part is that Sam is eating this up.

You want examples? I can do examples.

How about yesterday morning? I came down from my room on the second floor, greeted by the voices of my best friend and my brother. A year ago, that wouldn't have bothered me, but I suddenly didn't want to know what was going on, or why Sam was here so early.

“So, do you want to do this on the floor or the table?”

WHAT?

“Well, with the floor, we could just lay down and do it, but the rug is kinda rough, so maybe we should start on the table?”

I repeat, WHAT?

“Good point, we can move to the floor when it's big enough.”

Oh god. I can remember standing there, hiding on the stairs, mortified. Cause I mean, come on! How could anyone mistake those comments for what they must be?

Steeling myself against what I knew would be the most disturbing five seconds of my life, I took a deep breath and headed down the stairs, sneaking a peek.

...And let the breath out in a sigh. Spencer and Sam were standing at the table with aprons on, Sam with a large mound of molding clay in her hands and Spencer working on a perfectly square base for whatever he was working on.

Okay, so maybe that was a bad example. I mean, they didn't really do anything, right? Completely innocent.

But how about a few days back, when we went to the market? Sam has a thing for going to the farmer's market, as much for the food as seeing some of the strange country fellows that come to sell their fruits and veggies.

I was walking a few steps behind them, lost in thought, when I noticed that they had each grabbed a fruit, Sam a banana and Spencer a kiwi. Okay, this was pretty normal. Spencer likes the little seeds in the kiwi, and Sam has always been a strong supporter of bananas.

But this is different. When one isn't looking, the other is sneaking peaks. Like, when Sam's attention is caught on something, Spencer's gaze shifts to her, and I swear his gaze could melt steel, staring as her throat works around the larger-than-average bits of banana she's bitten off.

And she's no better! It's the weirdest thing in the world, watching my best friend staring with this smoldering look at my older brother, who's working that half of a kiwi for all he's worth.

God, this is so wrong.

So here I am, standing outside my own apartment door, almost hesitant to turn the knob for fear of what I'm going to see when I open the door.

I vaguely hear Freddie's door open behind me. I don't even take my eyes away from the 8-C sign beside my door when I mutter a vague, “hey”.

“What's up,” he says, coming up to stand beside me, “forget your keys or something?”

It takes me a second to register what he said. All I can see are horrible images of Sam and Spencer, splayed out on the couch, kissing sweetly and whispering to each other, or even worse, Sam and Spencer on the kitchen table, kissing not-so-sweetly and definitely not whispering.

I'm totally freaking out.

And by the time I realize Freddie has spoken, he's repeating himself.

“Hey,” he says again, waving a hand in front of my face, “did you forget your keys?”

I've come back from my nightmare world at this point, turning to face him with a sigh.

“No,” I say, and hesitantly trail off. How can I explain this to him?

“Sam and Spencer are in there, then?” he says nonchalantly.

“Probably, and I just don't think I can-,” suddenly, I stop talking as I realize what Freddie just said. With a quickness borne from watching Sam beat up countless nerds, I have my other best friend pinned against the wall.

“What do you know, boy?” I demand urgently, “Speak!”

He's weirdly calm, even though I think I'm growling.

“Well, it's just, Sam and Spencer have been together a lot lately. It's really only a matter of time before they start going out or something. I figured you of all people would have seen it coming.”

And I did. Oh lord, how I did. But how did Freddie see it, when no one else did? It didn't make sense, and as I let him go, I told him as much.

“Look, pretty much everyone sees it,” he says as he swipes imaginary dust off of his shirt, “and most of us just kinda...accept it.”

We're silent for a few seconds, me studying the floor and him studying me.

Then, he speaks again, taking on this wise tone that he uses when he's trying to impart some sage advice to Sam or myself.

“You know, maybe the reason you're freaking out about this is because you're jealous.”

Jealous? That's crazy talk. I have no reason to be jealous of either of them, not in that way, and I can tell the look I'm giving him is piled with disbelief.

“No, really”, he continues, now moving away from the wall and pacing a little bit. “If Sam and Spencer started dating, you'd lose the main attention of your best friend and your brother all at once. Maybe you just don't want that to happen. But, Carly,” he ends his little insight by stopping in front of me and putting his hands on my shoulders, “I'm pretty sure they want each other. It's going to happen eventually, and they're going to want you to be happy for them.”

He's right. I don't even need to think on it, because I just know he's right.

Spencer and Sam have always been mine. Any time I needed them, they'd be there for me, eager to help me and show me they care.

And now I realize I've been selfish, and really, I don't have a problem with this.

Well, maybe a teensy one. I mean, it's SAM and MY BROTHER. Ick.

But that little thought doesn't stop me from grabbing Freddie in a big hug, whispering “thank you” into his ear, then opening my door and quickly stepping inside.

“CARLY!” I hear my brother yell from the kitchen, “Carly, you have to come see this!”

So I take a deep breath, set my bag down, and head into the kitchen.

Spencer's there, alone, standing beside the table while bouncing with childish glee. Sitting square in the middle of the table is a covered object, about a foot and a half tall.

“Okay, this was supposed to be a surprise for next week, but I just couldn't wait to show you. It's okay if you don't like it, though, really, I mean, I didn't spend a lot of time on it, and I had help, so just tell me if you don't-.”

“Spencer!”

“Yes?”

I smile gently at him and motion for him to unveil his creation.

So with a flourish, and really bad oral drum roll, he whips the cover off of the object.

And I gasp.

Standing there on the table looking back at me is me. Only, it's me but more glorious. I'm standing on top of a pedestal, hands on my hips with my head held high. I'm wearing what look like jeans and a t-shirt, but I've got a graduation cap on my head. On the front of the base was a little inscription: “Carly Shay, Graduating Class of 2012, Seen Here Standing In Triumph”.

I could feel little tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, and I threw myself into Spencer's arms and just started sobbing.

Now, normally? I don't cry much. It's not that I think it's too girly or too weak, like Sam does, it's just I've only felt the need to cry a few times in my life. But this is just too much. How can I feel jealous or unwanted or any of the stupid feelings that I've been freaking out over the past couple of months when I have proof here, sculpted, clay-fired proof that my brother still cares about me?

“Hey now,” he says to me as he envelopes me in a hug, “what's with the tears? It's not that big of a deal.”

And it all comes out in a rush.

“It IS a big deal, because this is awesome, and you're awesome, and I can't believe I thought you'd forget about me, and I've been such a selfish jerk, and if you and Sam want to be together, that's okay, really, I'm happy for you guys and I know you'll have a ton of kids with strangely magical hair and wacky obsessions with ham or making sculptures out of birds nests or something.”

There are a few seconds of silence, my dramatic sobbing slowing to a couple of sniffles. Then Spencer starts shaking. For a moment, I think he's crying, but then I realize he's...laughing?

“Hey!” I say indignantly, pulling away, “why are you laughing? This is not a laughing time!”

His arms are across his belly like he's in pain, and he's laughing so hard he can't breathe right. Now I'm starting to get angry. I pour my heart out like that and this is what I get?

“You...” he manages to get out a few words between breaths, “you...thought...Sam...and...Sam and me were...”

Well, yeah. I mean, how much more obvious can two people get? But he just kept laughing, and it dawned on me that maybe I was wrong, maybe Freddie was wrong, and we were just reading too much into this.

“Oh, forget it,” I say. I hug him, though he's still chuckling pretty hard. “I love my sculpture,” I tell him, then kiss him on the cheek.

“I love you, kiddo,” he says and kisses the top of my head. “Now, go get changed, Colonel Morgan is coming over for dinner and he'll be here in a few.”

“Okay!” I say and give him a big grin before I run up the stairs.

A few minutes later, I'm sitting on my bed, frowning.

So they aren't together? But Sam is obviously into Spencer, and unless I'm way off course about Spencer, which I never am, he's had a thing for Sam for quite awhile now.

A grin spreads across my face.

They may not be together, but they will be.

Soon.

Fic - Flutter [Demi/Selena, PG, Drabble]

Wed, 03 Jun 2009 04:00:58 GMT

Title: Flutter
Author: initiatesix
Pairing: Demi/Selena
Fandom: RPFS
Rating: PG
Word Count: 677
Notes: Inspired by a pic over at ljsecret. Kind-of-but-not-really inspired by daysapart's prompt of "diary".

Demi,

This is yet another email that you will never read.

You know what, I don't even know why I do this to myself, you know? It's pathetic that I need to write you fake emails that I don't want you to ever see just to get my feelings out into the open, to face them.

But it's just how it is. Cause what am I going to say to you, right?

“Hey Dems, how about you and me get to know each other a little more personally, eh?”

“Demi, your Bamboozle videos make me hot, and I think you know what I mean.”

“Nice shoes, let's fuck.”

“Demi, I want to be with you more than I've ever wanted to be with anyone in my life.”

Yeah, none of those are going to work.

But I almost say them. Almost. Every time we make a video, or give an interview, and you shoot me one of those looks, that are just...god, I can't describe it. I almost say something then.

But I don't. I just wish-

Selena's hands jerk on her keyboard when her very quiet room is suddenly filled with the sounds of the guitar solo from La La Land, one of her ring tones. Of course, that particular one can only mean one person.

Demi.

With shaky hands she flips open her phone, the cheerfulness in her voice hiding what she thinks is shame at having Demi call during one of her email-writing sessions.

“Hello?”

”Hey,” the voice on the other end says, husky with fatigue.

“Dems, you sound exhausted,” Selena says, quickly shifting her laptop off of her lap and onto her bed so she can sit up properly, “What time is it there?”

”God, like...3 am or something stupid like that,” her friend replies, a groan of exhaustion underlining each word.

“Then what's up? Why are you calling when you should be in bed, you goose?” Selena admonishes with a small laugh.

”Cause...”

“Cause...” Selena wheedles in a teasing voice.

”Cause I missed the sound of your voice,” Demi says, her voice muffled, like she's burying her face in her pillow in embarrassment.

That shuts Selena up. Her mouth drops open and her phone tumbles out of her hand and to the bed. Demi's never said anything like that to her before.

Well, she has. But not in that tone of voice. It almost sounded...desperate, like something someone would say to a lover they've been away from for a long time.

”Selena?” comes Demi's voice from the dropped phone, which Selena scrambles to pick back up.

“Sorry, my phone...slipped,” she offers, wincing at the lameness of her excuse.

“Anyway,” she continues, not giving Demi a chance to question, “you should get some sleep, babe. You sound completely beat, and we can always talk tomorrow.”

“But I miss you, Lena,” Demi says in that same muffled sounding voice, “I need to get back to Texas soon, this has been ridiculous.”

“I know, but you need your beauty sleep. We wouldn't want you looking like the waking dead on set tomorrow, right?”

“I guess you're right,” Demi grumbles.

“You know I'm right,” Selena shoots back playfully, then seriously says, “Get some sleep, Dem.”

“Kay.”

“Good night, Demi.”

“G'night, Selenalenalena...”

Selena lets out a breath she didn't know she had been holding when the line finally clicks closed. She sits on her bed, with her head resting against the wall for a few minutes before picking up her laptop and finishing where she left off.

-I wish I could tell you how the way you whisper “good night” makes my heart flutter.

Then she sighs, and drags her mouse to the “delete” button.

But she pauses. And then, like she's not in control anymore, or a sudden wave of confidence has fled over her body, she drags the mouse away from the delete button and finishes the email.

So I will.

This time, she clicks “send”.

Fic - Don't Forget [Demi/Selena, NC-17]

Fri, 29 May 2009 21:44:36 GMT

Title: Don't Forget
Author: initiatesix
Pairing: Demi/Selena
Fandom: RPFS
Genre: SMUT. And a tiny bit of fluff, I guess. Pretty PWP too.
Rating: NC-17. BIG TIME.
Word Count: ~2400
Notes: Written for daysapart's prompt at tweendom_anon

It's dirty, and she knows it.

She's standing outside of her best friend's room, the top button of her jeans undone and her hand slipped down inside her panties, peeking with one eye through the slightly open door, her breath coming in sharp gasps and her bottom lip gripped painfully, so painfully, between her teeth. Her free hand is bracing her against the doorframe, her slightly bent knees not strong enough to hold her up.

This is just so wrong, and briefly she thinks back to just a few minutes ago when she slipped quietly into Selena's house to surprise her, since she'd been in Montana the night before and no one was expecting her home. The driveway is devoid of cars, which means it's just Selena at home and that's fine with Demi because, really, she just wants some alone time with the thing she's missed the most since she left.

With a skill that would impress Michael Westen, she tiptoes quietly across the floor and to the stairs, which she scales in almost complete silence. Her spy-like silence is warranted in her mind, since it's about 10 am and she's sure that Selena's awake, and she doesn't want to ruin her surprise.

And then she's outside Selena's door, which is open just the barest crack, and she's about to push it open and loudly exclaim surprise when a noise from inside stops her.

She pauses.

She's sure she heard wrong, but then, there it is again.

A moan. A soft, almost breathless moan.

'What?' Demi thinks, hand hovering above the doorknob. She's frozen, and something is happening to her body because she suddenly feels flushed and warm.

She braces herself against the doorframe with her left hand as she leans forward to peek through the crack, and she has to stuff her fist in her mouth to keep from making a noise at the sight that greets her.

Selena's laying on her pristinely made bed, on top of the covers, completely naked save for a pair of pink and black striped socks and her ipod earbuds, the sharp clean white of the cord stark against her tanned skin. Her dark, curly hair is splayed out in a fan on her pillow, one arm curled under her head for support, the other working slowly and sensuously up and down her thigh, grazing her pubic bone and then moving back down her thigh. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her mouth is working silently, her lips in an “o”.

Demi's eyes are wide. She was certain that Selena wasn't some prude, but to see it like this, spread out before her like some...heavenly dessert is just too much. It's an unconscious motion, but slowly, her right hand slips away from the grip of her teeth and down her chest, the thin white cotton of her shirt the barest of barriers between her suddenly oversensitive skin and her roaming hand.

Through her peephole she sees Selena's other arm come out from under her head and gravitate directly to her breast, pinching a nipple between her thumb and forefinger and just twisting as she spreads her legs just the barest bit, her hand dipping between her thighs as her toes curl inside her socks.

“Oh, god, Sel,” Demi whispers to herself as her hand walks its way further downward and undoes the top button of her jeans and slips inside her panties. She's wet to the touch, wetter than she should be, but that's a barely fleeting thought that's already left her mind and now she's just touching herself in concert with Selena's rhythm, who's long given up her teasing and is now rubbing tight circles around her clit, and she's making the most amazing little squeaking noises with each pass.

Demi's vaguely aware of how loud Selena's ipod is, but the song she's listening to suddenly picks up in volume and Demi's hand stills when she realizes what it is.

Selena lets out a strangled, gasping “Demi” at the exact moment that Demi hears her own voice coming from the buds, singing Don't Forget.

The world around Demi freezes for a split second. Her mind stops, her breathing slows, and she can almost feel her pupils dilate and her eyes darken. And then time starts back up and she's not even thinking when she pushes the door to Selena's room open. The girl is completely oblivious to this, lost in the motion of her hand and the sound of her best friend's voice.

She stands beside Selena's bed for just a second, her shirt untucked and the top button of her jeans undone. She knows she could still back out. She could leave right now and her friend would never be the wiser.

But she can't, she knows she can't, and with a silent prayer she gently places a hand on either side of Selena's shoulders and leans in.

Selena's eyes shoot open and audibly sucks in a deep, surprised breath. Demi doesn't even give her a chance to respond before she presses her lips against Selena's, immediately sucking her bottom lip between her own, nibbling and suckling and pulling until she loses her grip on it.

“Demi...” Selena breaths out, Don't Forget still blasting from her headphones.

Demi doesn't answer, she just steps back and strips her shirt off with an impatience that she didn't know she had. Her pants follow next, and then she's standing there, naked save for her white lace panties, and she just...needs to touch Selena, needs Selena to touch her, she just...needs.

She straddles a very still, very naked Selena and calmly plucks one of the earbuds away from her friend's ears, settling it into her own. She leans down then, pressing her body fully to Selena's.

“Do you want me, Sel?” She whispers into her friend's free ear, pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

Selena doesn't answer, but Demi feels soft, warm hands slowly trailing up her back and looping loosely around her neck. She sighs against Selena's neck, her own hands gripping the other girl's shoulders tightly. And then she's kissing a path from Selena's ear to her cheek, then her nose, then her other cheek, and finally her lips, her eyes open and locked with Selena's the whole time.

Demi's first guess is that Selena's been thinking about this for awhile, and when she feels a hand slipping cautiously inside her panties and rubbing the smooth skin below her pubic bone, she's sure she was right. In answer, she trails her hand down between their tightly embraced bodies and does the same, rubbing teasing circles into Selena's skin.

“Sel,” she says, breathlessly, her face inches from Selena's and their eyes still locked.

“Yeah, Dem?”

“Touch me.”

And then she does, and it's soft and hesitant but still urgent, and, Demi thinks as she lets out a low groan and pushes herself against Selena's hand, right on target.

She stays like that for a few seconds, just grinding against Selena's hand slowly, her breathing deepening. She's lifting herself up on her free elbow now, and her chest is heaving above Selena's. Then she feels hips wiggling beneath her hand and with an apologetic smile to her friend, she slides her hand just the barest amount further down between their bodies, running her long, calloused finger along Selena's wet opening.

“Fuck,” Selena bites out, her hips lifting up off the bed and her eyes fluttering closed.

It's in that moment, when Selena loses all pretense and slips a finger inside of her that Demi decides the most erotic thing in the world is having sex while listening to the sound of your own voice. The sound that she makes then is something between a moan and a frustrated groan, and then her lips are on Selena's and it doesn't matter that this is only their second kiss, because it feels like they've been doing this forever, and she wants nothing more than to keep doing it forever.

The next couple of minutes are silent, punctuated by soft moans and exclamations as they push each other to the edge and back, and Demi doesn't know how she notices it, her mind clouded as it is, but she realizes somewhere around the second chorus that this is the second time they've listened to Don't Forget.

“You have my song on repeat?” She gasps out against Selena's lips.

“No, I, oh, I, um, damn, Demi, I have it on here twice,” Selena grinds out, her hips now moving frantically against Demi's fingers.

“Is that so,” Demi says as she teasingly removes her fingers from Selena and trails them slowly upward between their bodies. She presses a kiss to Selena's lips as she reaches for the iPod and hits the “next” button.

The sound of violins and a techno beat fills her ears as the iPod brightly displays “The Veronicas – Untouched”.

“Really, Sel?” Demi finds herself grinning as she asks, “Is this your 'getting off' playlist or something?”

Selena averts her eyes and blushes ever so slightly.

“Something like that...”

Demi chuckles softly and presses a kiss to Selena's forehead before she sits up, resting her weight against Selena's thighs.

“When I'm done with you, babe, you're gonna have to take this song off your list, cause it's not gonna apply anymore,” she says with a sexy smirk. Selena lets out a whimper and reaches up to pull Demi down again, but the rock star dodges it and, after hitting pause on the iPod and popping out her ear bud, stands up above Selena, feet on either side of her legs.

“No touching,” she says saucily as she waggles a finger at Selena. Then she starts to move her hips, slow and steady, in a gyrating circle, and the only thing Selena can think of are all those times she got herself off watching the youtube videos of Demi at Bamboozle. Demi's hands are moving all over her body as she dances to unheard music, and then those gorgeous guitarist's fingers are moving down her belly, down, down, until they're looped through the waistband of her panties, and then those are sliding down her hips ever so slowly as Demi continues her dance.

They're down around her knees when her hands leave them and she just stands above Selena, brushing back a strand of hair as she stares intently at her friend.

“I want you, Sel,” she says, her voice deep and throaty, as she bends down to slowly push her panties down past her knees and to her ankles. She's standing between Selena's legs by this point, and with a negligent kick the white lace is sailing across the room to land haphazardly on Selena's computer monitor, “I have wanted you for awhile, and I'm going to show you exactly how much.”

And with that, she's lowering herself back down, this time straddling only one of Selena's legs. She slips the earbud back into her ear and starts the song again, Jess and Lisa's voices filling her ear. If only they knew.

She doesn't really know where this is coming from, these thoughts and images about the things she wants to do to her best friend, but it's like she's on autopilot when she pushes Selena's thighs further apart gently, softly, and slids up her leg until they're almost pelvis-to-pelvis, and she can feel Selena's heat against her thigh. It's intoxicating, and with a sudden ferocity, she leans forward to grab Selena by the shoulders, pulling her up into a sitting position as she works her legs into a comfortable position.

They're sitting up, facing each other now, Selena leaning back against Demi's strong hands, her own hands roaming, teasing and pinching and tweaking the soft flesh of Demi's breasts, and Demi decides she can't take anymore, and with a growl she tugs Selena's body against hers, warm, wet flesh meeting, pressing, and gliding together just as the chorus blasts in her ear.

This time it's not hesitant, or gentle, and Selena's hands abandon their place on Demi's chest to loop around her neck and pull her tighter so that they're sitting chest to chest, her hips grinding against Demi's, her cries increasing when she feels her clit rub against Demi's in a sharp jolt that sends a long shiver down her spine.

Demi's got her face buried in Selena's neck, her lips frantic against the sweaty skin she finds there as her arms wrap around Selena and her hands softly stroke up and down her spine. She's making a circling motion with her hips in time with the tempo of the song, and she can't tell where she ends and Selena begins, but as the song reaches it's climax and Selena's cries fill her open ear and mingle with the music, she just lets herself stop thinking, and she's sure she must be hurting Selena a bit when she bites down on the supple, giving flesh of her neck but she's reduced to either biting or screaming.

They've stopped moving, their breathing ragged, heavy, like they've just run a four minute mile, and Selena doesn't even have to try hard as she lays back, pulling Demi on top of her just as the song comes to a close. Demi's lips are on hers as the last notes hit, and as they fade away, Selena thinks that Demi's heartbeat is in sync with the music.

Demi pulls away as silence fills the earbuds, giving Selena a smile, and she's about to lean back in when the next song on the playlist starts up.

“You Belong With Me?” She asks incredulously as she leans over to pick up the iPod, oblivious to the massive blush spreading across Selena's face. “Seriously, I don't know how Tay would feel being on your getting of-”

She stops abruptly then, and turns to Selena with an unreadable expression on her face.

“Really?” She asks simply.

Selena nods.

The change is sudden, but Demi's finding herself blinking back tears and dropping the iPod carelessly to the bed, bringing Selena's lips to hers.

Before the screen fades to black, the title of the playlist clearly shines.

“Demi.”

Fic - Running in Circles [Miley/Emily, NC-17]

Sat, 23 May 2009 06:04:53 GMT

Title: Running in Circles
Pairing: Miley Cyrus/Emily Osment
Author: initiatesix
Fandom: RPFS
Rating: NO KIDS ALLOWED (THERE BE SMUT AHEAD)
Word Count: ~2400
Notes: I really have no idea where this came from. The main part of it is a prompt from tweendom_anon. Enjoy.

Miley is completely certain that Emily is wearing her hair in pigtails today to tease her.

It's a Tuesday, and they're doing a dry run of the latest Hannah Montana episode, and normally she's spot on with her lines, but they've been doing this one scene with just Miley and Lilly and every time they run through it, they reach a part where she's supposed to look up from the floor all serious and give Lilly a sad face and deliver her line, but each time she just freezes as her mind goes from her lines to mental images of dry humping Emily against a door or a table or the wall or just anything, because god, there's just something amazingly sexy about pigtails.

Finally, after almost an hour of completely missing the ball with her one line, her one miniscule, simple line, their director mercifully calls a break for lunch. Miley just groans and lays back against the Stewart family couch while everyone else slowly files out of the room. Everyone, of course, except Emily, who remains on the couch next to Miley, a concerned look spreading across her features.

“Miles?” She asks tentatively, “What's up? You're not on the ball today.”

Miley just groans again in response. She sits still for a second, eyes shut tight, before she springs up from the couch with an energy that seems artificial. She makes a beeline for the fridge, which she has taken to stocking with Vitamin Water and random snacks. Today it's leftover grits from last night (jalapeño cheddar, of course). She quietly pulls out the bright pink tupperware container of grits and grabs a bottle of Vitamin Water before closing the door with her foot and making her way over to the counter.

Emily's been watching her all this time, Miley just knows it, but she can't bring herself to look. Every time she's looked at Emily today, her mind has wandered to the previous night, when they had an impromptu sleepover/movie night.

It's late, and they really should be in bed, but they've decided instead to watch a movie. It's Miley's turn to pick, and after some hesitation she selects Imagine Me and You. Emily's never heard of it before, but all Miley has to say is “romantic comedy” and she's on board. If Emily notices that Miley sits a little further from her than usual when the movie starts, she doesn't say anything.

As the movie progresses, and Emily starts making comments about how cute Rachel and Luce are together, Miley subtly inches closer to her friend. By the time Rachel is belting out “YOU'RE A WANKER NUMBE R 9!” at the top of her lungs, standing on top of a car and looking ridiculous, they're wrapped up in the same blanket, Miley's arms wrapped loosely around Emily. They both have small smiles on their faces, though for different reasons.

“That was adorable,” Emily says as the credits roll.

“It's one of my favorite movies,” Miley says tiredly against Emily's shoulder.

It takes her a few seconds to realize how that could be taken. She's still against her friend, waiting for the inevitable question. And sure enough, it comes.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Miles?” Emily asks, though her tone is teasing.

Miley hesitates before answering.

“What if I am?”

Suddenly, Miley finds herself a foot away from Emily with the smaller girl's hands on her shoulders.

“What?!” She exclaims, “You're...you mean...since when?! How'd you figure it out? Are you dating anyone? What's her name?”

And just like that, it's over, and the blow up that she'd been dreading, that she knew would happen...didn't. It was like nothing had changed, like Miley had just told Emily that she was crushing on some guy.

Only she wasn't. And she wasn't sure if she could tell Emily who she was crushing on, no matter how brave she was feeling.

Miley's dragged out of her reminiscing by Emily's fingers snapping in front of her face, trying to get her attention.

“Miley. Miley! MILEY!”

“Huh, what?” Miley says intelligently, dropping her spoon into her container of cold grits. Thankfully, cold grits are too thick to splatter.

“You zoned out for, like, five minutes,” Emily says, leaning on one elbow on the counter across from Miley, her other hand reaching up and playing with a pigtail.

Miley forgets to swallow, and instead of answering, starts to cough violently.

“Hey, you okay?” Emily says concernedly as she makes her way around the island to offer her assistance. Miley leaps back like a spooked jungle cat.

“Okay Ems, I know what you're trying to do, and I see right through it!”

Miley's at her wit's end by now, and it's showing.

Emily draws her hand back, a confused look on her face. Only a few feet separate them, but suddenly it feels like a hundred.

“Miley, what are you talking about?”

Miley laughs mirthlessly.

“You know what I'm talking about,” she says, “Last night when I told you I was gay, you were all 'so what most attracts you to a girl?' and I told you that I thought pigtails were really hot, and suddenly today you're sportin' the pigtails and lookin' all sexy, and you're tryin' to get into my pants!”

“Is that really what your problem has been all day?” Emily exclaims, taking a step toward Miley, who stands defiantly, “That's so stupid! Of course I'm not trying to get into your pants! Maybe I just felt like wearing my hair in pigtails today, did you ever think of that?”

They both know the argument is feeble at best, but Emily keeps her face set. That's her story and she's sticking to it.

Miley steps forward now, her eyes challenging.

“Is that so?” She asks, her eyebrow quirking upward.

Emily takes another step. There's only a foot of separation between them now.

“Yes. You're being completely ridiculous.”

Miley takes the last step, and suddenly she and Emily are nose-to-nose. Well, nose-to-eyebrows because Miley's a bit taller normally and her platform shoes don't help matters. She looks down at Emily, whose expression is still set stubbornly.

“Alright then,” Miley says.

And then her hands are on Emily's waist and she's pulling the shorter girl closer, and their lips touch with a softness that's surprising given the force with which Miley dragged her co-star into this encounter.

Emily doesn't even try to hold up her charade once their lips meet. How could she, when even she knows what that muted moan she let out means? Instead, she just loops her arms around Miley's neck and presses herself closer to the pop star, her eyes closed tightly against the rest of the world.

It's Miley, of course, who takes the initiative. She pushes Emily back, their lips still connected, until she feels the blonde girl's back connect with the edge of the island. Her hands leave Emily's waist, one trailing upward along the girl's t-shirt clad stomach, up and up until she's grazing Emily's breast, barely touching before continuing upward to cup her cheek. Her other hand snakes its way behind Emily, where the zipper of her skirt resides.

She hestitates only a second, remembering that they're on set and the others could easily come back from lunch any time, but Emily moans insistently against Miley's lips, working one of Miley's legs between her own and grinding slightly against her.

This is fast, she knows, but the feeling of her friend's thin cotton panties against her leg, bare where her shorts have ridden up, is enough to force every coherent thought ever had by everyone in the world out of her mind. With a deftness that surprises even herself, she finds the zipper to Emily's skirt and pulls it, and the offending garment, down with one smooth motion.

Emily pulls away as she steps out of her skirt, her arms still looped around Miley's neck. Her eyes find the brunette's, and an understanding passes between them at that moment: talk can wait.

And with that, their lips connect again, this time a bit more roughly, needier maybe. Emily's tongue slips past Miley's lips as she again straddles one of the girl's legs, lifted and bent slightly specifically for this, and then she's grinding against Miley and this feels amazing, better than any time she's done this to herself. The sensory overload of kissing her friend and rubbing herself against said friend's leg is too much, and Emily breaks away from their kiss with a gasp and a moan, her forehead falling to Miley's shoulder as her hips continue their work.
For her part, Miley is going with the flow. When this all started, she'd had a brief moment of panic, the knowledge that she had no damn clue what she was doing seeping into her brain. But she finds that this is easy, natural even, and when Emily breaks away from their kiss it seems only logical to press her thigh more firmly against the girl's center while her right hand worms its way up the front of her shirt. She's not surprised to find that Emily's gone braless today, but she's immensely thankful for it as she graps a taut and erect nipple between her thumb and index finger and squeezes.

That's all it takes for Emily, and suddenly her hips are bucking erratically and her breathing is coming in short, panting gasps, head thrown back and eyes shut so tightly Miley is sure it must hurt, but the look on Emily's face is one of pure rapture and Miley can honestly say it's the most erotic thing she's ever seen in her life.

Emily's frantic motions slow gradually as she comes down from her peak, then finally stop as she leans limply against Miley, forehead to forehead, her breathing heavy and her skin slick with sweat.

“Ems,” Miley starts, but Emily cuts her off with a short kiss.

“Later, Miles,” she says simply as she kisses her again, this time a little longer before she pulls away, “I just had the most amazing orgasm of my life, and I need a few seconds to recover before I return the favor.”

The look she's given Miley as she says this is one of dark-eyed desire, and Miley can't help but take a deep breath as she caresses Emily's back, her right hand still under the girl's shirt. Emily just gives her this wolfish grin before attacking her lips again, snagging Miley's bottom lip between her teeth and tugging lightly.

It's amazing, Miley thinks as Emily spins her around and pushes her up against the counter, how good at this her friend is. Faster than she can think, her blue shorts are off and flung casually onto the counter top.

“Get on the counter,” Emily demands between kisses, her voice barely above a harsh whisper and her hands roaming Miley's exposed midriff where her slightly too-large button-down shirt has ridden up.

And, as though Emily's voice has taken command of her body, she finds herself hopping up onto the counter top, her butt resting on the edge while she leans back onto her hands. Emily leans up on her toes to kiss Miley once, quickly and thoroughly, before trailing kisses down Miley's neck, her hands working the buttons on the singer's shirt. Her lips follow a distinct pattern with the buttons. Undo, kiss, undo, kiss, until her shirt is completely undone, and she's throwing that away to languish with her discarded shorts.

It strikes her suddenly that she's sitting on the counter top of the kitchen on the Hannah Montana set, completely naked save for her matching polka-dotted underwear, and she doesn't feel exposed in the slightest.

She's about to say something when she sees Emily suddenly kneeling in front of her, and then she feels the girl's small fingers tugging the crotch of her panties aside followed by a warm, deliciously moist tongue licking patterns on the insides of her thighs.

“Oh, Lord, Ems,” she says, throwing her head back and leaning on her elbows.
She can feel the blonde girl grin against the inside of her left thigh, and then that tongue is continuing upward, closer and closer to her surely-wet center. Her hands grip the edge of the counter top in anticipation, her eyes closed and her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and then that tongue is on her, smooth and warm and probing, and God, this is amazing.

She pushes herself up off of her elbows into a full sitting position, her hands migrating first to Emily's head, holding her in place, then tentatively gripping those supremely sexy pigtails, pulling Emily's mouth more forcefully onto her.

“Em, you're, oh shit, you're incredible,” she gets out, barely, before that darting, probing tongue recedes, only to be replaced by Emily's lips latching onto her clit and sucking hard.

Miley lets out a low groan, and though she's speaking, it's completely incoherent, her accent suddenly honey think and her voice raspy and deep.

She gives Emily's pigtails a sharp tug when she feels two fingers suddenly buried inside of her, and despite the roughness she pushes her hips against the girl's hand and mouth, letting out one strangled cry before she feels her release wash over her body completely. She lets go of Emily's hair slowly, her hands feeling weak, and her body just flows backward until she's laying flat on the counter. Her eyes are closed, but she can feel Emily crawling up onto the counter and hovering over her.

Miley reaches up and loosely takes hold of Emily's waist, pulling the smaller girl down to rest on top of her. She can feel light kisses against her cheek and neck, and she sighs contentedly before she speaks.

“Em, we need to get dressed. The others could be back any minute.”

Emily pulls back slightly and fixes Miley with a penetrating gaze, soft and...loving?

“We have a few minutes,” she says before lightly capturing Miley's lips with her own.

And so they lay there, amidst discarded clothing and unanswered questions, wrapped up in each other and blocking out the rest of the world.

'Real life can hold it's horses for just one damned minute,' Miley thinks as she pulls Emily tighter against her.

So, I was in the hospital today...

Sat, 04 Apr 2009 00:57:43 GMT

Yeah, so I had to go into the hospital for an oral abscess (not fun), and now I'm on percoset (which is nice), but while I was there something kinda funny happened that I thought I'd share.

Despite being almost 20, I still have pediatric healthcare, so I was put into the pediatric emergency ward. I was there with three other kids, all girls, ages 10-14, and on the tv they had the iCarly season 1 volume 1 dvd playing. Well, needless to say, I was quite excited, and somewhere between me busting out the theme song and quoting one of Spencer's random ramblings, one of the girls informed me very soberly that boys aren't supposed to like iCarly.

Thought you guys might enjoy that little anecdote.

RPF fic - Bleighton, "Symbol"

Sun, 06 Jul 2008 00:25:45 GMT

Title: Symbol
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Blake Lively/Leighton Meester
Rating: G
Words: 179
Summary: A young woman's thoughts on the meaning of a ring.
Notes: Something that I just had to write. It's silly, sappy, and it may not make a whole lot of sense, but I'm happy I wrote it.

Marriage isn't about a ring, a young lady found herself realizing one day, but opposite: the ring is about the marriage. Rings are symbols, something with value and meaning to both the wearer and the giver. So when someone wears their engagement ring on the ring finger of their left hand, they are declaring something. They are declaring their intention to marry the giver, and that's that.

But if the wearer decides instead to place the gift on, say, the middle finger of her right hand, the ring doesn't lose it's meaning. Instead, it becomes something sacred, it's meaning known only to two people in the whole world rather than any passing observer.

So when Leighton is out with her castmates after wrap, and Blake lightly takes hold of her hand and runs a finger along the modest stone resting on the brunette's finger, they can look at each other and smile, a smile the others take in stride, letting the two have their fun.

They don't have to say anything. The ring, their symbol, speaks louder than words.

Porn Battle Entery #1 - Reflections

Fri, 04 Jul 2008 12:43:03 GMT

Title: Reflections
Fandom: Harry Potter
Prompt: Alicia/Katie, imagination
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Katie looks back on a past relationship and comes to an interesting conclusion.
Notes: My first adult fic that I can remember ever writing. There's a good amount of Oliver/Katie in here, but I found it necessary for the direction my muse took me. Don't like it, don't read it :P

If there were one thing Katie Bell could claim her relationship with Oliver Wood lacked, it was imagination. It was something she'd known since school but had refused to admit to herself, that Oliver was one of the most boring people she'd ever known. For example, he would go to bed each night promptly at 10 pm, and would be asleep by 10:30, regardless of whether or not they had sex. He would wake at exactly 6 the next morning and go through his routine of shower, dress, breakfast, training.

Most of the time she could ignore it. It's not like he was a terrible person. On the contrary, he was a wonderful man, caring and thoughtful without being overwhelming. But always in the back of her mind she knew that this was not who she was supposed to be with. Where Oliver was all rigid order and schedule, Katie was carefree, swift and bold as the wind, her days not planned but instead lived and experienced as she knew they were meant to be. Where Oliver clung to his precisely built routine like a young boy clutching at a life-raft, Katie would embrace the unknown like a long-lost friend coming over for afternoon tea.

Oliver was pattern, and Katie was imagination. And now, years later, looking back on that failed relationship, she knew that it was her imagination that had made her stay that long. Each time Oliver would roll over onto her and begin his seduction, a routine she knew so well she could be asleep and still participate, Katie would let her imagination roam, Oliver's burly body replaced with soft skin and smooth curves, his rough crew-cut replaced with luxurious curls, his chapped lips replaced with soft cushions of strawberry flesh.

When he would inevitably rush through their foreplay and enter her, Katie's mind was already replacing him with long, practiced fingers, those soft pink lips closing around one of her nipples and not letting go while she fisted her hands in that beautiful brown hair, grabbing as much as she could and holding on for dear life. And when Oliver finally stopped his forceful thrusting and shuddered above her, Katie had already reached her peak more than once from her all-consuming fantasy, and as they lay in their post-coital bliss, she would smile as her imagination finally let slip the ghostly image of her old teammate and she would fall into a contented sleep.

Now, though, as she was brought back to the reality around her, the reality of a backroom in a muggle supermarket, the reality of Alica's very corporeal fingers pushing into her as the object of her fantasies pressed up against her back, whispering dirty nothings into her ear, she was forced to admit something.

Reality beat imagination any day.

First post...

Sat, 14 Jul 2007 07:43:57 GMT

...And it's concerning fanfic XD. This is just a post to display the challenge table that I'm working off of. Anyway, here's the table:

001.	Evidence	002.	I'm here	003.	Funeral	004.	Puppy love	005.	Gloves
006.	Blackboard	007.	Muse	008.	Magic	009.	Clean	010.	Secret
011.	Superstition	012.	Fantasy	013.	Test	014.	Tease	015.	Storm
016.	Strawberries	017.	Weapon	018.	Beach	019.	Lost	020.	Cry
021.	Aloof	022.	Blood	023.	Tower Block	024.	Taxi	025.	Search
026.	Writer's Choice	027.	Writer's Choice	028.	Writer's Choice	029.	Writer's Choice	030.	Writer's Choice

(Snagged from 100_prompts)