(no subject)
Author: Aublivienne
Story: Singularity Syndrome
Title: Fans
Challenge: Grape #8 (live audience), Daiquiri Ice #9 (let's see some ID)
Extras/Toppings: hot fudge
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 990
Summary: Alain meets his adoring fans.
Notes: This came out so precious I can't stand it. (can I get my tag back, or am I too late for that?)
Alain set his glass down and slid it towards the bartender. “Not strong enough.”
The creature behind the bar snorted, and Alain could see wisps of smoke trailing out of his nose. “I could give you something stronger, but you'd have to sign a waiver,” he said, reaching for the same bottle of scotch he had been pouring from all night. “It's the weekend, have a shot on me.”
Alain shrugged in agreement and glanced out at the rest of the bar. For once, he was bored. The semester had ended, Errol had gone back to his parents' house for the summer, and all of his other fallback guys were busy. Maybe a nice trip was in order...he wasn't a fan of the beach, but the (usually drunk and mostly naked) young men that seemed to gather there were worth it.
A small giggle from Alain's left grabbed his attention. Two girls sat in the corner, whispering to each other and very obviously staring at the scientist over their drink menus. The both of them didn't look a day over fourteen.
“Looks like you've got some admirers,” the bartender observed, setting a shot of something yellow and hissing on the bar.
“I hope not.” Alain threw the shot back and shuddered at the taste and the burn. Banana. Ugh. “I'm no babysitter.”
“...E-excuse me?”
Alain rolled his eyes and glanced at the girls, who were now right next to him. One was tall, lanky, and wore a large pair of glasses, while the other one had a mass of curly brown hair and braces. They smelled like bubble gum and cheap perfume, making Alain unconsciously recoil.
The bespectacled girl played with the hem of her shirt and stared at the floor. “We-we were just wondering...are you Professor Alain Fontanus?” she asked quietly.
Alain raised an eyebrow and turned fully toward the pair. “Who wants to know...?”
“Well, I just-er, we just wanted to ask...um...”
“Can we have your autograph?” The other girl blurted excitedly.
Alain blinked, confused. “...What?”
The curly haired girl held up her bag and pointed to the pin on it. It was a little cartoon drawing of Alain, complete with a stylized version of his trademark dark grin. “We're Fontannies!” she exclaimed proudly.
That didn't help the professor at all. “...Huh?”
“I-well, that's what we're calling ourselves, anyway.” The girl with the glasses looked up and gave Alain a little smile. “There's a lot of us, and we-we're kind of your...fanclub.”
“You mean you didn't know?” the shorter girl piped up again. “We're kind of a big deal. We have, like, meetups and stuff.” She pulled out her phone and grinned. “Can we take a picture with you?”
“Wait, hold on,” Alain said, motioning for the girls to stop. “...Since when did I have fans?”
The curly haired girl glanced at her friend and shrugged. “I dunno, maybe a year now?”
“Gods.” Alain took a hefty swig of his whiskey and rubbed his temples. The girls took the silence as a sign of agreement and bombarded him with questions.
“Is it true that you were raised by space pirates?”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“Do you kill your students if they fail your classes?”
“What's your favorite color?”
“How do you like to torture people the most?”
Alain tried his best to keep up. “Yes, no, no, red, and...” He sighed and shook his head. “Do your parents know you're here?”
The taller girl's eyes went wide as saucers. “Our parents would ground us forever.”
“Yeah.” The curly haired girl crossed her arms and pouted. “I wish you could just kill them for us.”
“What?” The bespectacled girl glared at her friend. “No! They'll know it was us!”
Alain slapped his hand on the bar, getting the girls attention. “Look, I'll take your picture or whatever if you stop talking about killing people. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you kids? Listen to your parents. And stop sneaking into bars, you're like twelve.”
“Okay,” the girls said in unison, looking at the ground.
After taking a few pictures with the girls' phones, the taller girl looked up at Alain. “Y-you're not mad at us, are you?” she asked, looking absolutely crushed.
Alain sighed again. “No, I suppose not. Now go straight home and watch movies and eat candy or whatever teenagers do.”
As the girls started for the door, Alain had an idea. “Hold on,” he called after them. “Do you want to know what would really make me happy?”
The curly haired girl bounced up and down. “Yes! What can we do?” she asked.
Alain smiled-ignoring the girls' squeals of excitement-and beckoned them closer. “I just need one small favor...”
*
Thunk. Thunk.
Carmine grunted and sat up, shielding his eyes from the sunlight streaming through the window. He looked around, looking for the source of the light banging. It was probably someone outside, but something told him to go check.
He opened the hatch and immediately saw the graffiti scrawled across the side of his ship. “Aw, whaaaat?” he groaned, completely in disbelief that someone had spraypainted the work 'skank' on it in neon pink paint. “Dammit, this is gonna be so expensive!”
Crack!
Carmine reached up to find out what had hit his forehead. Egg yolk dripped down the front of his face as his mouth fell open in shock.
In front of his ship stood two girls, laughing and high-fiving each other. Carmine looked between them, the cartons of eggs they held, and the graffiti before gasping, “What the fuck?”
One of the girls, short and freckled with brown hair, lifted her middle finger towards the gunman. “If you ever come near the professor again, we'll...we'll do something worse!” she shouted before grabbing her friend's wrist and taking off.
Carmine wiped his face and stared after the girls as they ran away. “He's hiring kids now...?” he said to himself, completely incredulous. “That's...kinda low.”
Story: Singularity Syndrome
Title: Fans
Challenge: Grape #8 (live audience), Daiquiri Ice #9 (let's see some ID)
Extras/Toppings: hot fudge
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 990
Summary: Alain meets his adoring fans.
Notes: This came out so precious I can't stand it. (can I get my tag back, or am I too late for that?)
Alain set his glass down and slid it towards the bartender. “Not strong enough.”
The creature behind the bar snorted, and Alain could see wisps of smoke trailing out of his nose. “I could give you something stronger, but you'd have to sign a waiver,” he said, reaching for the same bottle of scotch he had been pouring from all night. “It's the weekend, have a shot on me.”
Alain shrugged in agreement and glanced out at the rest of the bar. For once, he was bored. The semester had ended, Errol had gone back to his parents' house for the summer, and all of his other fallback guys were busy. Maybe a nice trip was in order...he wasn't a fan of the beach, but the (usually drunk and mostly naked) young men that seemed to gather there were worth it.
A small giggle from Alain's left grabbed his attention. Two girls sat in the corner, whispering to each other and very obviously staring at the scientist over their drink menus. The both of them didn't look a day over fourteen.
“Looks like you've got some admirers,” the bartender observed, setting a shot of something yellow and hissing on the bar.
“I hope not.” Alain threw the shot back and shuddered at the taste and the burn. Banana. Ugh. “I'm no babysitter.”
“...E-excuse me?”
Alain rolled his eyes and glanced at the girls, who were now right next to him. One was tall, lanky, and wore a large pair of glasses, while the other one had a mass of curly brown hair and braces. They smelled like bubble gum and cheap perfume, making Alain unconsciously recoil.
The bespectacled girl played with the hem of her shirt and stared at the floor. “We-we were just wondering...are you Professor Alain Fontanus?” she asked quietly.
Alain raised an eyebrow and turned fully toward the pair. “Who wants to know...?”
“Well, I just-er, we just wanted to ask...um...”
“Can we have your autograph?” The other girl blurted excitedly.
Alain blinked, confused. “...What?”
The curly haired girl held up her bag and pointed to the pin on it. It was a little cartoon drawing of Alain, complete with a stylized version of his trademark dark grin. “We're Fontannies!” she exclaimed proudly.
That didn't help the professor at all. “...Huh?”
“I-well, that's what we're calling ourselves, anyway.” The girl with the glasses looked up and gave Alain a little smile. “There's a lot of us, and we-we're kind of your...fanclub.”
“You mean you didn't know?” the shorter girl piped up again. “We're kind of a big deal. We have, like, meetups and stuff.” She pulled out her phone and grinned. “Can we take a picture with you?”
“Wait, hold on,” Alain said, motioning for the girls to stop. “...Since when did I have fans?”
The curly haired girl glanced at her friend and shrugged. “I dunno, maybe a year now?”
“Gods.” Alain took a hefty swig of his whiskey and rubbed his temples. The girls took the silence as a sign of agreement and bombarded him with questions.
“Is it true that you were raised by space pirates?”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“Do you kill your students if they fail your classes?”
“What's your favorite color?”
“How do you like to torture people the most?”
Alain tried his best to keep up. “Yes, no, no, red, and...” He sighed and shook his head. “Do your parents know you're here?”
The taller girl's eyes went wide as saucers. “Our parents would ground us forever.”
“Yeah.” The curly haired girl crossed her arms and pouted. “I wish you could just kill them for us.”
“What?” The bespectacled girl glared at her friend. “No! They'll know it was us!”
Alain slapped his hand on the bar, getting the girls attention. “Look, I'll take your picture or whatever if you stop talking about killing people. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you kids? Listen to your parents. And stop sneaking into bars, you're like twelve.”
“Okay,” the girls said in unison, looking at the ground.
After taking a few pictures with the girls' phones, the taller girl looked up at Alain. “Y-you're not mad at us, are you?” she asked, looking absolutely crushed.
Alain sighed again. “No, I suppose not. Now go straight home and watch movies and eat candy or whatever teenagers do.”
As the girls started for the door, Alain had an idea. “Hold on,” he called after them. “Do you want to know what would really make me happy?”
The curly haired girl bounced up and down. “Yes! What can we do?” she asked.
Alain smiled-ignoring the girls' squeals of excitement-and beckoned them closer. “I just need one small favor...”
*
Thunk. Thunk.
Carmine grunted and sat up, shielding his eyes from the sunlight streaming through the window. He looked around, looking for the source of the light banging. It was probably someone outside, but something told him to go check.
He opened the hatch and immediately saw the graffiti scrawled across the side of his ship. “Aw, whaaaat?” he groaned, completely in disbelief that someone had spraypainted the work 'skank' on it in neon pink paint. “Dammit, this is gonna be so expensive!”
Crack!
Carmine reached up to find out what had hit his forehead. Egg yolk dripped down the front of his face as his mouth fell open in shock.
In front of his ship stood two girls, laughing and high-fiving each other. Carmine looked between them, the cartons of eggs they held, and the graffiti before gasping, “What the fuck?”
One of the girls, short and freckled with brown hair, lifted her middle finger towards the gunman. “If you ever come near the professor again, we'll...we'll do something worse!” she shouted before grabbing her friend's wrist and taking off.
Carmine wiped his face and stared after the girls as they ran away. “He's hiring kids now...?” he said to himself, completely incredulous. “That's...kinda low.”