Title: Down the Rabbit Hole Darkly
Fandom: The Mortal Instruments
Summary: Being connected to Sebastian is like being repeatedly stabbed by a mental and emotional knife.
Characters: Jace, Sebastian, Mentions of Jace/Alec friendship, Jace/Clary and the rest of the Lightwoods
Warnings: Spoilers for the climax of COFA, and Sebastian not being very nice, but I think we all knew that anyway
Disclaimer: Everything and everyone mentioned belongs to Cassandra Clare, I'm just playing in her sandbox
Being connected to Sebastian is like being repeatedly stabbed by a mental and emotional knife. He knows everything that passes through Jace’s head, and is quick to express his disapproval. For one thing, he doesn’t like how he’s still referred to as Sebastian, but Jace isn’t willing to budge on that one; he refuses to share a name with this monster, even if he now has to share everything else.
The only thing Jace can compare it to is the paratabai bond, but even that doesn’t cross quite as many borders as this does, and besides, that was a willing bond, and Alec, sweet, lovely Alec is nothing like Sebastian.
Degenerate, whispers the now constant voice in his mind, dirty, wrong, betrayer, he shall be the first to taste our wrath.
Jace winces, and pushes the voice away as best he can. He won’t let it become a part of him, and he refuses to think ill of his family.
I’m your family, persists the voices, they are nothing but traitors.
It slices into his mind like a hit from Isabelle’s whip (slut) but again he pushes it away. He’s getting used to Sebastian’s (no) mental tirade, and he can only hope that means he’s getting better at resisting it, and not that he’s weakening. He will not hurt the Lightwoods.
You could go back to them, murmurs the voice again, this time like silk and velvet, like a bed that instantly makes you want to lie down and sleep on it, tempting rather than the harsh berating he’s become used to. And because of that it’s so much worse.
His mind is suddenly flooded with images, unbidden but this time of his own doing, of Robert frowning down an him, but with a twinkle of a smile, and advising him against wearing slippery shoes when running about the Institute, of Maryse coming into the kitchen with a bowling pot and an apron over her usual skirt suit, of Izzy smirking at something he’d said, of Alec looking at him, crystal blue eyes open and earnest –
And then of himself holding Alec up by his neck, chocking the life out of him, and it is only the feeling of grim satisfaction that comes with the memory, which contrasts with his own horror that warns him it is Sebastian’s.
The memory moves on, developing into the imaginary, where the hand succeeds and Alec is tossed, limp and cold, to the ground. And once again Jace resolves that he can’t go back until this is resolved.
There is no resolution but our complete merging, snarls the voice once more.
Now that just sounds dirty, retorts Jace this time. He will not be a passive player in this game; he will not be used again. After all, Valentine taught them both the same lessons, so Sebastian should know he’s not going down without a fight, even if it is to the death.
And then the image he’s been pushing down all this time, swims to the surface of his mind’s eye, of Clary, looking down, tear stained, at his dead body. He can’t believe after all of that, after the Angel himself bringing Jace back they would only get a few weeks, he loves her –
And again, the wave of hatred hits, so very contrasting Jace’s own emotions. It hurts enough to weaken him, but he can’t help feel slightly triumphant.
Because if he can hear every though and feel every emotion of Sebastian’s, that meant Sebastian was being subjected to his. This was still a battle from both sides.
- Current Location:Home for the hols
- Current Mood: cold
Character/Pairings: Ambiguous, sort of Speed/X
Summary: He sits in the room for a while, not really doing anything. Just searching.
Genre: Angst (when isn't it?)
Warnings: Character death
A/N: Beta'd as usual by the lovely Alichay, written in the hope that all you wonderful team fangirls are still there, and were/are just very busy for a while!
He sits in the room for a while, not really doing anything. Just sitting, and searching. He’s not really sure what he’s searching for, only that it wasn’t what he claimed it was. He’s not even certain if he’ll find what he wants, so he just sits on the bed, and looks.
If he was a casual outsider – a stranger – he’s not sure what age he’d assume the owner of the room was; its jarring primary colours and pictures said child, whilst the folders and posters denoted teenager. But there was something else about the room, in the neatness and carefully selected objects, which suggests adulthood, a certain maturity, if only burgeoning. But age is a silly question, this room says nothing of it; it’s only a shrine to the past, stuck in a moment that can’t be revisited.
A part of him wants to change it, straighten the covers of the bed, which look like someone just got out of it, tidy the objects left on the desk haphazardly. Yet another, stronger part quells that urge; this place, now, like its owner, belongs in a time left behind. Nothing he changes here will make any impact on what has occurred, all it is now is a museum to its now gone owner, a reminder that he once lived and loved.
Gazing around at the tokens of a life, he yearns to know their significance, what they meant, why they’re there. Why did someone several years past graduation choose to keep what looked like school files? Why, when you’re considered the best racer in the world would you have posters idolizing your competitors, people you could beat and in some cases had? Unanswerable questions.
He wonders what will happen to it; will it be kept like this, preserving a memory, or will it be cleared? The memory of the man wiped from all but hearts and minds and record books, the essence being wiped away as the image remains. He suspects the latter; it holds too many memories. No doubt the whole house will be cleared, the whole place being too full of ghosts as to overpower the living.
He takes one final look around the room, before spotting a picture lying on the desk, crumpled and aged but clear enough. Then he turns to go, leaving everything as it is, taking one final look before closing the door.
For now he has a case to solve – the death of one who died too young. He knew he would not find evidence in that room, yet he wonders if he found what he was really after.
Speed Racer is dead, and somewhere in the city Racer X is slowly destroying himself, and the Inspector Detector is still looking for what to say, what to do, which could make this any better for him. For now there’s only one thing he can think of.
He still loved you, X. Right until the very end.
He wonders if it’ll make it any better, or any worse.
- Current Mood:busy
Title: The truthful observer
Characters/Pairings: Sparky, one-sided Sparky/Speed, X/Speed
Summary: People considered the Racers to be a normal family?
Genre: Angst, song-fic ('Outta my hands for now" by the Dave Mathews Band)
A/N: Part of my Truth series, with 'Truth is in the eyes of the beholder' and 'The Unmasked Truth', though can be read alone. Dedicated to Alichay who whined there wasn't enough Sparky in the fandom, and who loves this song.
Well this was fun. And people considered the Racers a nice, normal family? What complete bullshit. Behind the happy, smiley, milk and cookie image they showed the world they were possibly the most dysfunctional family ever. Period. Oh well.
It’s out of my hands for now
I came after Rex left, so I can’t say what they were like before that, how changed they were, the only thing I noticed was that it was hard for Pops to go from race team to plain garage, dealing with many alien cars after only having one special one. I wasn’t allowed to lift the covers off the one that stayed in the corner.
It’s out of my hands for now
They never talked about Rex and I wasn’t allowed to bring it up. It was as if he’d never existed, except for the room that was kept the same and the car in the corner. When I eventually asked about them (it wasn’t directly about Rex) I was told that they were Speed’s now, that they were just waiting for him to grow into them. So Pops hadn’t given up hope of being a race team again and Mom was just that desperate to have Rex back, it was kinda sick actually. Maybe I could see where this Rex had been coming from when he left. But I couldn’t do that to them.
I can’t just walk away
Then Rex died. I saw the headline on my way to work, wondered if I’d have to be the one to let them know about their hated, beloved son. I should have known they still watched all his races when I wasn’t there. Pops informed me with a stormy face that the garage was closed (my hint to take a hike), through the open door I could see Mom murmuring false comforts to Speed. Maybe she would have given up if she’d bothered to look at his glassy eyed face. When I left I knew which one I was most worried about. Still, I thought, maybe this is my chance to escape.
Be nice to walk away
A year later and I got the call. Racer Motors was back in business, would I like my old job back? I thought back to my time in that crazy happy sad house, where everyone looked like they were breaking behind their smiles, how choked and deranged they had made me feel; who wouldn’t have said no? But then I remembered the kid with the candy sweet smiles and desperately lost eyes. I said yes.
Be nice to walk away
But Speed wasn’t how I remembered him. I think the lack of proper emotional ties to hold on to had left him cold, inverted. I guess I was the second (though less important) person to leave him behind with nothing but his strained, stepford family, and he was angry. Sure, he appeared well adjusted; all happy and smiley (just like Mom and Pops had taught him) but there were times I’d catch his eye when the mask wasn’t up. It nearly choked me, what I saw; all this uncontrollable rage coupled with the same drowning despair and horrified betrayal. It was then I figured he might possibly be the most unbalanced Racer of all; more so than Pops; who could suddenly fly into the blackest rages, or Mom and her seemingly random tears. Plus, replacing Rex with a new brother for Speed? Bad idea. Really, really bad.
But I don’t feel safe
Yet still Speed seemed to draw me to him, I just couldn’t stay away, my life began to orbit the boy. I took on more and more tasks involving Speed; picking him up from school, taking him to the park occasionally, ferrying him between home and Trixie’s house, just to be involved, to try and be crucial to him. And it worked to some extent, Speed did sometimes cling to me with an urgency that was unnerving, but he also hated me for it, hated me for making him crave something he desperately needed but wasn’t mine to give, not really. Yet again I realised I’d walked into the part of Rex’s resented replacement. Goody.
But I didn’t stop, I continued dutifully and took a mean, perverse pleasure in being able to enjoy watching Speed grow up when the almighty Rex couldn’t, clearly the fucked upness of the Racers was catching. The intensity of the resentment for Rex and protective adoration of Speed continued to frighten me, keeping me up at night, and there were times I had to just walk out of that house for a while, just to get away from it. I never looked behind to see if piercing eyes watched my departure.
Get away, all the way up here
I’d tried desperately to preserve Speed’s childhood from the clichéd nightmare it had become, but I couldn’t, all I could do was occasionally alleviate it. Then came the day I turned around only to see that Speed had at some point become an adult. This epiphany had shortly been followed by the even bigger one that shit, I think I might love him. But I couldn’t force Speed to love me back, I could only try to imitate what Speed needed and try to coax the love out of him. If there was any left, if it hadn’t been used up on people who clearly didn’t deserve it or squeezed out by terrible circumstances.
It’s out of my hands for now.
I watched as Speed slowly immersed himself in the racing world more and more, becoming a key part of it, a major participator rather than a key observer. And I tried to follow him into its neon depths, becoming a spotter, learning everything I could about the car, and about him. But I could never keep up; he was freefalling upwards towards the top. The racers are the crutch, the face and the centre of racing, we can meddle and we can assist but the reality is that it’s just them, chasing rainbows and fighting each other for the stars. So it was with a depressing sense of inevitability that I watched Pops let them in. I saw him stare continuously at Speed throughout, never taking his eyes off Speed, like a starving man when faced with nourishment after so long without. He didn’t let anyone see his eyes but I could tell he was drinking Speed up, practically fucking him with his eyes, and no one else either noticed or cared. But I couldn’t do anything; they were potential allies, they offered Speed a lifeline and could be his source of protection.
It’s out of my hands for now
I had to watch as X managed to worm his way closer to Speed, getting closer to him in months than I had in years. He seemed to know exactly what to do with Speed, rarely slipped up on the assault course that was interacting with him, being able to slip past his considerable defences with relative ease, and effectively dismantling his walls with patience where others had given up, failed, or even reinforced. And still I couldn’t do a fucking thing.
Start to feel insane
Speed initially ran, that much was obvious by how far he went to avoid him. But he couldn’t always; the man seemed to be attached to the Inspector (someone who was looking out for and doing more for Speed than the rest of our combined efforts could, I had to keep reminding myself), and I doubt there was anywhere to hide in the locker rooms, unless he crawled inside an actual locker. Besides, Speed wouldn’t want to appear weak; from what I can grasp locker rooms are a place for strutting and intimidation, where racers become peacocks with their feathers outstretched. But eventually, tentatively, Speed began to resist less, to take cautious steps towards X, who patiently waited with arms outstretched. Soon, he was actively seeking out the mysterious bastard who had become the replacement for the replacement.
Whilst I’d tried for years to even partially immerse myself in Speed’s world, X seemed to know a backdoor route straight to the heart of it, and therefore to Speed’s heart. The mysteries that were Speed didn’t seem to puzzle him at all, he never lost his way in the Labyrinth, and that really fucking pissed me off, because they weren’t simple, and I couldn’t. If Speed’d let me I would have happily spent the rest of my life lost in that maze. But he wouldn’t.
Let me in
I’d tried to be everything to Speed. I’d tried to be his carer, his confidant, his best friend and brother figure. I did it because that’s what Speed needed and what he craved. I’d done everything I could to make myself necessary to Speed so that I could be essential to Speed. Guess I never could be.
Let me in
After a while the feeling of uselessness to do anything had led to a feeling of detachment, like I was separate from events and could have no real input into events. The whole feeling was kinda like sitting in spotters’ box at races, trying to help, but ultimately being powerless to really be of any primary help.
Looking down from here
Their coming together seemed almost like the hands of fate or destiny or something were pulling them together, like their souls were tied together or any of that of spiritual crap. I hated having to be witness to their growing chemistry, seeing their eyes catch and their whole fucking worlds being consumed by each other.
Watch the days lights up with fire
My thoughts started twisting, my obsession grew and my hatred for the mysterious bastard X expanded. He was playing on Speed’s weird attraction to him, preying on his powerful need for Rex and association between the two. And Speed was letting him, because Speed was pathetic in his reliance and it made me want to screamhurtrunstaylaughcry.
I start to feel like I'm crazed
But my dad’s old saying kept coming back to me; ‘If you love something, you let it go’, and, dammit, I did love Speed, that was what this whole fucking problem was. So because I loved him, I stood there and let things unfold, because he needed X, and he needed X to need him. Something which X seemed more than happy to do.
It's outta my hands for now
But if there was any chance that he’d stop needing X, or if he turned out not to be what he was looking for, then I was more than ready to step back in. Still waiting at his door, however pitiably.
So let me in
‘Cause I still can’t completely let go. I’m still wrapped around his little finger and I’m here until he eventually tells me to get lost. Pending that, I’ll still be banging on the door, scraping at the window, beginning entry.
Let me in
- Current Mood: crazy
Title: Hail Arthur
Characters/Pairings: Arthur, Merlin, brief Mordred and Morgana, Merlin/Arthur
Genre: Angst, reincarnation, cliche?
Summary: Just before the wave of darkness finally swallowed him up, he heard his last tribute
A/N: First Merlin fic in quite some time, I wrote it a while ago when this wasn't such an explored topic and thought I may as well post it. Beta'd by the wonderful oxymoronic , enjoy!
The last thing Arthur had seen had been two startling blue eyes, blinking back tears from a pale face. Even with a sword through him, lying in a growing pool of his own blood, the tragic expression had made him try and reach for it, to comfort it. His hand had only made it halfway before it failed, but its descent was caught by another hand, which carried it to its destination, helping him when he failed. He was always doing that.
He could hear sobbing, and see someone in his peripheral vision, but he did not look away. These were his dying moments and he wasn’t about to waste them. He wanted that face to stay with him for whatever eternity came.
“Stay with me,” he muttered, huddling closer into sheltered arms.
The eyes blinked back more tears and held his gaze, and for those few moments they were back in the world that belonged only to them. He could no longer make out Morgana, wailing over the body of his killer. Lancelot and Gwen had already left, long gone by now. It was finally just the two of them.
“Always.” The voice finally returned, the chocked sobs evident in it.
Arthur held on a little longer, making the most of this deathly embrace. Just before the waves of darkness finally swallowed him up, he heard his last tribute;
“Hail Arthur, once and future King.”
He wasn’t sure why he was here, why, with his precious time off from university and his father’s heavy regime, he’d decided to come here of all places.
He really was in deepest, darkest nowhere; in the overgrown countryside, of an almost uninhabited part of England. And what had he found? A complete ruin. The place was almost unreachable, practically unknown, and what was more, no historian had ever been able to identify it with anything or anyone of any importance.
But the place stirred something within him; a longing, a passion. It had been something truly great once. He wondered aimlessly through the dilapidated markers that showed where its streets had been, pondering the feelings of familiarity and – strangely enough – home, until he reached an orchard on the outskirts.
Up until now he’d been completely alone, for which he’d been grateful for; he didn’t want to be disturbed. Now, however, he saw that there was a figure leaning against a tree, watching his approach, and he made his way over cautiously. It appeared to be a boy of similar age to him; with bizarre clothes one, the palest skin, contrasting dark hair and the most remarkable blue eyes. He was sure he’d never seen this person in his life, but, like the ruins, he stirred emotions in him. When the boy smiled, he’d found himself smiling back.
“Took you long enough.”
Strange words from a complete stranger, but something inside of him understood.
“You’re supposed to wait for me; don’t complain.” He checked himself, then decided to start again on a more appropriate tact.
“What’s your name?”
The boy looked surprised, possibly even a little hurt.
“What? Like that wizard legend guy?”
The strange boy stared at him, then burst out laughing.
“Hail Arthur, once and future King.”
- Current Mood:busy
Title: What Matters Most
Characters/Pairings: X/Speed, Racercest
Summary: To say X's motives for starting a relationship with Speed were slightly twisted would probably be an understatement
Genre: Angst, romance
Rating: T (I hope)
A/N: So, after many exams and a four week silence, I have returned! Cue dramatic music XD Beta'd by the ever abused Alichay
He shouldn’t feel guilty about it. He should be dancing for joy that all that he’d dreamed about, and then dared to hope for, had come true. But all he felt was an overwhelming sense of self loathing.
He’d been looking for a way back into Speed’s life for a while now; he’d never really left his world, so he figured all that was left was to wriggle his way back into his heart, just with a new face. However it had proved surprisingly difficult, what with Speed not being the naïve, trusting little boy he remembered and had feared for. Things being the way they were, when he’d seen the opportunity, he’d just gone for it.
He’d originally perceived Speed’s attraction to him as…useful, and Jeez, didn’t that make him sound like a scumbag? But when his little brother had cornered him in the locker room after the race; faced flushed, chest heaving, and lips parted ever so slightly he’d only had a split second to way everything up.
To reject him would’ve been the moral thing to do, but it also would’ve pushed Speed even further away than he was, especially as X couldn’t explain the real reason to him, and that just wasn’t an option. There was also the creepily cunning part of him that figured that sex equalled intimacy, and this was probably the best way he could crawl back into Speed’s love.
But finally, possibly the most persuasive part was the part of him that was just so tired. It was the part of him that questioned what the whole fucking point of what he did, the one that just wanted to stop fighting. It whispered to him; haven’t you denied him long enough? Haven’t you wanted to hold him again ever since you let him go the night you left home? Well, here he is, open to your embrace again. I t just didn’t matter that it was sex, by this point he was just that desperate for Speed to want him again, in any way.
So he’d opened his arms to him, and watched hungrily as his Speed ran back to him, albeit for a different sort of embrace. He’d allowed Speed to grind into him, and to slowly tilt his head up for a kiss, but it had been the little flicker of nervousness in his eyes – the one he’d never seen in Speedy – that had him leaning forward and initiating their kiss.
He’d kissed Speed senseless, ignoring the horrified voice in his head telling him that this was Speedy, that this was his little brother, instead choosing to focus on the individual parts that would arouse him instead of making him feel sick. He’d concentrated on the soft, pink lips that really were as gorgeous as they looked. He’d run his hand through thick, dark hair, and the other down perfectly proportioned thigh. As long as he didn’t think of the person with him as Speed, then he could do this properly, then he could keep him coming back for more. He’d jerked them both off, then sat on the bench with Speed cradled in his arms as they’d recovered. He’d held his little brother for the first time in a decade, and, however much he hated himself for it, that made it all worth it.
Speed had indeed come back for more, and X had been ready for it, studying him as they explored each other for things about Speed that could turn him on and drive him crazy, just so long as they were kept in a separate sphere to Speedy. Speed was obviously attracted to him, so he felt it only fair to the boy to do the same, even if it meant he also had to push away creeping thoughts about whether he was to blame for Speed’s mucked up brother-complex, ‘cause though his face had changed, this was still very much the body of Rex Racer.
It was better this way, he’d tried to justify to himself one night when the full vision of what he was doing had overtaken him. People usually screwed others because they were attracted to them, and love sometimes followed. Speed didn’t need to worry about that, because X had loved him long before the idea of having him had entered his head. An indecently long time in fact, and he’d stopped that thought in its tracts before he had to think about it anymore.
But possibly the worst part of it, he considered miserably, was that he now was attracted to Speed. It was like he’d unconsciously conditioned himself, so that now all those attractive parts came together in his head, and he could no longer separate the from the fact that this was his little brother he was screwing. And it still aroused him like nothing before, still had him moaning in his sheets or shower long after Speed had left, or was due to come.
And however much torment that brought him, he still wouldn’t give it up. Not now, not ever. Because however wrong it was, however sick it made him, or meant he cruelly deceived Speed, the fact remained that he still loved him more than anything. The years without him could hardly be described as living, and the very suggestion of having to continue to live without him now that he’d been brought so close to him again was indescribable. The fates had offered him a way out by offering a way in, and he was too weak a man to say no, no matter how fucked up or deceitful it was. Speed was his again, and really, that was all that mattered.
- Current Location:The woods of angst, Fangirlia
- Current Mood:busy
- Current Location:My happy place
- Current Mood: bouncy
Summary: He stared uncomfortably at the suddenly-lit board, watching a name that should be dead flash to life; so his track record still stood, did it?
Characters/Pairings: Racer X, Inspector Detector, Speed Racer and some vague Racercest if you do all sorts of inadvisable acrobatic poses.
Genre: Angst, General
Warnings: Does severe lack of slash count? No idea where this came from, just roll with it...
A/N: Debated over and beta'd by Alichay
“What, Inspector,” growled a rather intimidating, hunched over man with shades, “was so important that you had to pull me from a mission to come see?”
His companion merely looked slyly through his glasses up at him;
“That, my friend, would be telling.” Then, as an afterthought; “Besides, the mission was nearly over, you weren’t extremely necessary anymore.”
“I wanted to see Sneedley’s face when they took him away.”
“Trust me; you’ll want to see this more.”
X turned away, exasperated with his colleague, and instead studied the altogether too-familiar scenery. It scared him how, after all this time, it still looked the same, especially when he didn’t. Walking along the aisles, he gazed down on the horribly memorable yet alien track. It had once been his.
Sitting in the crowd had never been his thing; he preferred participating, and now he remembered why. Just sitting there, surrounded by hoards of people, all eager for the excitement that would never be theirs, not having any effect on the outcome.
He stared uncomfortably at the suddenly-lit board, watching a name that should be dead flash to life; so his track record still stood, did it? Mind you, tonight it was only there for show; no one expected anyone racing today to even come near to beating it.
Today was strictly minor league; newbies and those who never got any further only. That meant no fixing, only watching; a faint eye on the look out for rising stars. What the hell could inspire the Inspector’s interest here?
“Don’t make it obvious,” murmured the Inspector, “but there are some very familiar faces up and to the left.”
Turned out the Racers still went to the races. That really shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was. Jeez, his parents looked so old. Mom’s hair was shorter, and there were more crows’ feet around her eyes, whilst Pops – if possible – looked even sterner than he remembered.
There was a kid sitting next to them, and for one heart-stopping moment he thought it was Speedy. But no, he looked nothing like Speedy, nor was he displaying the perpetual movement little brother always had. Besides, wouldn’t Speed be much older by now? He must have graduated High School, and wasn’t that a scary thought?
But where was his little brother? Not with his family, that much was certain (despite not seeing Speed for an age he was still positive he could’ve picked him out of any crowd).
The cars were lining up, dragging X’s attention back to tonight’s rejects and hopefuls. The gun went off and suddenly everything was about the blurring colours and deafening noises.
After the first lap you could already pick out the talents and those who might as well give up on the spot. But one car dominated the race.
It was beautiful; all sleek lines and pure white with a lick of red, driven by what appeared to be an angel with one incredible devilish streak. Whoever this driver was, they were good, pulling away from the rest with ease; all raw talent and a dash of experience if the way he hugged the turns and glided along with an ease borne from old familiarity was anything to go by.
Now, this kid meant business; he was going to be big. Hell, with a bit more experience he could rival even X himself. But he couldn’t help shake the feeling of connection X felt towards him; something about those moves, and even the car which stirred a longing in him, for some reason he felt close to this driver.
“Good, isn’t he?” said the Inspector, in the tone of one making light conversation, but with an edge, “Completely new on the circuit, first official race ever. He’s one to look out for – ” His eyes flickered to X. “– this Speed Racer.”
And with that the pin dropped. Watching him fly into Victory Lane, X didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Speed was treading a path X long knew he would, all he could do was hope he could protect him long enough to see him really take flight.
- Current Mood: content
Title: Operation: Camelot! Part 5
Characters/Pairings: Team Fangirl, Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG (for now...)
Warnings: Crack, fangirl invasions, far too much squee to be healthy etc.
A/N: Sorry it's taken so long! I have on excuse except general business. Hope it distracts you sufficiently Muunin! And, of course, beta'd by the ever suffering Alichay!
Ezzy fluttered at Arthur as he escorted her to see his father, gazing into his eyes in awe, was it possible Speed had a rival on the pretty eyes front? Arthur, frowning at the sudden end to the ceaseless gushing from the princess, decided to put the change down to her nerves starting to calm from the wolf debacle. Ladies were not used to such action (back in Gauis’ room Muunin stiffened, feeling an insult to her honour).
Arriving at the door to the main hall, Arthur proceeded inwards to announce their sudden visitors, leaving the fangirls to their own devices for a few moments.
“Are you going to be alright?” Enquired Bitten, worried by her friends sudden change in manner. The fact that she was about to go up against a tyrant from the Dark Ages (literally) didn’t help either.
Ezzy looked up, surprised; “Oh yes” she answered blithely, “it’s not Uther I’m worried about.” And with this cryptic comment she went back to fiddling with her skirts.
Alichay chuckled, “Worried Bitt? Don’t be; daddy’s little princess over here will have the big bad King wrapped around her finger within a few minutes.”
Then, the doors opened.
What proceeded was one of the greatest displays of feminine manipulation in history; with much gushing, fluttering, blushing, demurring, wobbling of bottom lips and just a little bit of squeeing.
“So, we have several rooms to lodge in long enough to be able to see an upcoming tournament-“
Ah, thought Bitt, so that was what Ezzy had been squeeing about.
“And freedom to explore Camelot, within reason.”
“As if you would have wanted to leave the castle!” snorted Alichay, “just think; the chance to swoop around Camelot castle in princess dresses for days, who could imagine anything better?”
“Yes” sighed Ezzy dreamily, either missing or ignoring the sarcasm thrown at her.
Bitt observed their behaviour with amusement, before cutting in;
“As much as I’d like to stay with you two, I’d better report the good news back to Muunin. Besides, I think someone’s coming to escort you to your chamber.”
“Oh yes, you’d better let her know I haven’t got us all killed!” chirped Ezzy cheerily, “Anyhow, Alichay and I have another meeting to make…”
Back in Gauis’ Rooms
“I take it from the fact that you aren’t running in here being pursued by guards that the meeting went well?” Asked Muunin dryly, “Or that Ezzy’s display of squee hasn’t killed your brain?”
“Yes on both accounts” replied Bitt, sitting down next to her comrade, “though it was close; you missed quite a display on Ezzy’s part.”
“I can imagine.”
Ezzy stopped her climb of the turret when she spotted the hem of a deep burgundy dress.
“Hello Morgana, let’s talk.”
- Current Mood: lethargic
Title: Dayglo Cinderella
Characters: Speed, Trixie, Raver X (yes seriously), Ravercest
Genre: AU and Crack of an epic proportion
Summary: All Speed wanted to do was go to the
Warnings: Crack; serious, brain killing crack. And inapropriate use of glow sticks.
A/N: Dedicated to the awesome Muunin, who is having a stressy, not fun week. And also because I epically failed her as a beta, on the up side it did lead to the invention of Raver X! Here's to make up for it! Beta'd by the amazing Alichay!
Another Friday, another night all alone. Speed sighed; he couldn’t believe Pops had just ripped up another invite to an ṻber-rave (so totally greater than a normal rave, those were so passé), didn’t he realise how many people Trixie had had to sleep with to get that? Oh well, it was only a print out, he could still stare at the text and dream.
Isn’t it typical? His parents; the biggest ravers of their day, so mega into it they actually named their son after their favourite class A drug, had banned him from ever going to even a house party, let alone a full-out rave. Him! Speed Raver! It was unthinkable. He sighed again, it hadn’t always been like this, they used to be awesomely cool parents, but that was before, before the terrible accident. He missed his brother so much, he had been the next up and coming raver of his time, only to die of a drug overdose, just one slip of the needle…He only hoped his was partying away in heaven with the best of them, without the restrictions of domesticated ‘rents.
Before his thoughts could continue down this dreary path (‘think dayglo! Not emo!’ as his good friend DJ Sparky always said) he was rescued by a bubble-gum pink bobbed head popping in through his window.
“Hey there Speederella, miss me?” chirped Trixie happily.
“Trixie! What are you doing here?” Speed cried, wondering if she’d not gotten his text letting her know how epic fail his night was going to be.
“I’m here to save you from your enforced loserness.” And with that she reached into her small, but clearly Mary Poppins-esque handbag to pull out the tightest, brightest, most glow in the dark clothes Speed had ever seen.
Speed gasped; “Trix, are those for me?” he asked wonderingly.
“Just call me your fairy God-sister!” she smirked, twirling so as to fully show off her sparkly fairy wings. “And I say that you shall go to the ball!”
In a highly improbable venue somewhere in the city, Raver X was bored. It didn’t matter that those surrounding him were wearing a mixture of crazy masks and implausible (and in many cases gender confusing; that Togakahn did so like to cross-dress) outfits, they were still the same crowd. He wanted something new, something exiting, something-something like that rather glorious creature shaking their booty in the middle of the dance floor. It seemed the night was going to be a lot more exiting than he first anticipated.
Ecstasy, Speed decided, was the greatest. How his parents preferred Speed he didn’t know, but wouldn’t being called Ecstasy be cool? Couldn’t you just imagine the chat-up lines? Everything was so pretty and sparkly, and everyone was so beautiful, especially that guy approaching him just now; yummy. He was now in Speed’s personal space, but he didn’t care, they danced together perfectly, just like he and Rex used to when their parents were out and they used to crack out their old music collection. He wanted him, he didn’t know who; Rex or this guy with the Xs, but he wanted him.
A night of sweat, wrestling leather, inappropriate uses of glow sticks and cries of delight followed, leaving both ravers panting, exhausted yet desperate for more. More that they would have definitely got unless-
“There you are! We’ve got to go now, or Pops’ll castrate you, with a spoon!” And with that the equally high Trixie, burst in on their love-making scene, simultaneously ruining the moment and awakening Speed from his fantasy land. Before X could even ask ‘meh?’ our intrepid male heroine gasped, pulled up his unseasonably tight trousers and ran for it.
“Wait!” X cried, “I don’t even know your name or number!” but alas it was too late, his party princess was gone, departing as swiftly as he came, only leaving behind one (glittery, techno-coloured) stiletto.
But what he didn’t know was that he was not the only one to have spotted the delectable Speed. In his private booth above the rave, rich-boy party-planner Royalton had been watching the proceedings.
“Find me that incredibly effeminate, possibly underage boy! I want him to be the face of my new parties, with him there there’s no way they can fail!”
Next to him, the old-school party-animal ‘Discoball’ Taylor looked sideways enquiringly, and asked in his supposedly german accent;
“Can I have him as my cockslut? I want him as my cockslut.”
Waving an imperial hand at his assistant, Gennie, Royalton declared;
“Let it be so.”
The next morning
“Hey, Speed, it says here in Partying Weekly that the mysterious Raver X has fallen for the charms of an elusive semi-drag queen and hopes to find him again with only the aid of their missing stiletto. Do you think it’s you?”
“Fuck knows.” Was her companion’s incredibly blunt response, “I was high Trix, I don’t know who I was shagging. Now, pass that over; I want to look at the raving fashion panel.”
- Current Mood: energetic
Title: My response to Munnin's genre challenge
Rating: PG - R
Warnings: character death, hints of shota, general silliness
A/N: Helped along by the lovely oxymoronic !
Clutching the slowly cooling corpse of his brother, X let the tears pour down his face and mingle with the rain. How had it come to this?
“Rex! I can fly!”
“Don’t jump Speedy!”
This superpower thing really wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
X slowly ran his fingers through Speed’s hair, causing Speed to purr in his sleep and snuggle closer. Yep; still as adorable as ever.
“Can I come with you Rex?”
A pause. A moment where the future was balanced, ready to tilt either way.
“Yeah, all right Speedy.”
When Speed had asked Rex if he could drive, this wasn’t what he’d had in mind. Oh well, it was just as good, if not better.
“Please! Oh Please!”
“You’d better give it to her” murmured Alichay.
The fangirls sighed, Ezzy wouldn’t stop until she had Speed in a princess dress.
Speed’s fevered moans softened as X pulled him close, holding him in an old familiar way. He’d rediscover Speed if it helped Speedy.
X sighed as he examined the costume Speed had chosen for him. Of course Speed would choose Batman. Damn his leather and masked avenger fetish.
Watching Speed bend down even further, X growled; was it really necessary for him to wear such tight jeans?
Touches, strokes and finally joining, leading to pants, moans and stains he’d never be able to explain to Pops. It didn’t matter; this was worth it.