Figured that I should finally post something after an indecently long time of semi-lurking. Please blame FP. ^_-Little Max Payne drabbles-Author: vasherRating: RWarnings: Slash, the usual jazz, etc.He isn’t sure if it’s the vodka or the painkillers talking when he finds himself agreeing to escort Vlad back to the Russian’s apartment. And by escort he means half lean on, half support as they both stumble into the elevator, scandalizing an old lady in a big feathered hat that Max just finds hilarious.Max definitely thinks that it’s the vodka’s influence when he’s almost doubled over laughing at her shocked expression, just as the doors slide closed behind them, when Vlad reaches around to very noticeably grope him on the ass. Laughter apparently isn’t what Vlad had in mind, because his hand’s next trajectory immediately blasts all thoughts of hilarity out of Max’s head. The thin, surprisingly soft lips that brush (not entirely drunkenly, he notes) against his own taste like even more expensive liquor.After they finally manage to get into the apartment, he vaguely thinks that this isn’t something he’d be doing without having a quart or so of alcohol in his bloodstream, but trivialities such as that don’t concern him when Vlad is doing such wonderful things with that magnificent, devious tongue. Max might let him practice a few more of those damn soliloquies if this is what results.He wakes up sore, sleep-deprived, and very very hungover. When he feels behind him, the cold empty space on the bed doesn’t do much to help his mood.The steaming cup of coffee, however, black as tar and tentatively offered when he staggers into the living room, goes a long way towards making him feel better.**************************Second one is part of a larger series not-yet-written-*************************Bravura’s new secretary sends him a large, warm smile at the office and he stares at her until it hesitantly fades and she mumbles a greeting before rushing off. He belatedly realizes that he should have smiled back.The guys at the next desk make good-natured jabs at his intelligence and offer to fix him up with a pretty officer upstairs.“Christ, Payne, that gloom you carry around is really gettin’ to us. You need to get yourself a girl or something before the whole office starts needing Prozac.”He declines and shuffles the papers piled on his out box until they leave him alone.--0-0-0--There’s a figment of his imagination sitting on the couch when he gets home, flicking bits of burned cigarette onto the carpet and watching a rerun of Lords and Ladies on the television. It wears a suit looks exactly like he remembers; white and tailored to its owner like an expensive glove. He blinks a few times to see if the hallucination goes away and carefully skirts around the couch when it doesn’t.Sometime between his rummage through the fridge to find anything edible (there isn’t) and making a note to call his psychiatrist (assigned specifically to him by the department after the last mob fiasco; he wonders if they’re trying to tell him something), the TV clicks off and he finds said mental apparition leaning back against the kitchen doorway with a wide, toothy grin splitting its face. He remembers that smile from before and studies it a few beats before deciding that it’s phony as a two-dollar bill.There’s some comfort in the fact that even while making wild illusions about post-mortem and occasional enemies, his mind is still sharp enough to tell when Vlad (even a fake one) is being a manipulative son of a bitch. Cue the trademark inclination of head and deceptively innocent look.Right on time.“Max, dearest of all my -““You can talk?”His non-plussed question seems to throw the other sentence off balance. It flounders in the air between them before waving a white flag and retreating back into Vlad’s open mouth. The other regards him with eyebrows that keep rising higher and higher until they threaten to merge into the waves of blond at his hairline.“…Yes, Max. Yes, I can.” The voice is dry enough to shrivel a lesser man.“Oh.” Max mulls over this before deciding that it is indeed possible. He’s heard about very detailed schizophrenic episodes in the loony cases that he refuses to work on. Those were more in Winterson’s department. Maybe this is one of them. Besides, he can never forget about his own up close and personal encounter with Valkyr and the doozy of a dream sequence afterwards. Those had felt as tangible as any gunshot wound to the head.And therein lies a perfect explanation for his (hopefully temporary) descent into madness. He figures that the sheer amount of lead probably floating around his brain entitles him to some psychological breakdowns. Really, he’s been overdue one for the past few months.At least that’s the only explanation selfsame brain provides when Max realizes that he’s just agreed to let the fake Vlad haunt (he also notices an odd twitch developing in Vlad’s eye that seems to be a new development- undoubtedly a projection of Max’s own psychosis onto a figurehead of conflict) his new apartment.****************************Comments are treasured like the valuable jewels they are. ^^
I'm afraid this isn't going to be the most valuable jewel of a comment, because all I can really think to do is kind of sit here and gape uselessly, but uh, you are awesome, for lack of anything less braindead and more specific to say. o_o
*taptap comment*... *little hammer breaks*Seems valuable enough for me. 8D Heh, have achieved awesomeness. One step closer to universe domination.Thanks!
You have a very unique way of revealing integral character traits. I really like that. And you have a very distinct way of talking about characters, too. You seem very, uh... warmly impartial to them all. Like you don't hold one more above the other. It's your word usage, and I like it. Also, it's incredibly coherent, and has a very wry humor to it that kept me grinning. And despite their very very compact size, you manage to integrate small details that make it seem intimate all the same. You have a very good grasp of how you want to shape your fics, it seems. Very good control. :DAt any rate, I wish you hadn't been so reluctant on posting these. They rock very very hard. Like, for real, yo. I love your style and your writing period. I only hope that you've got more up your sleeve somewhere.BTW. The present tense writing really works for you. It's very easy to get accustomed to and lends it a unique feel. :D(Reply to this)
Aww. *warm and fuzzy feelings*The fic is my sandbox and I enjoy pushing the little characters around. 'S more fun in the present tense (for me, personally) because it's actually happening 'now'. Kinda. In that ficcy way. >_>Mrah, the second bit is a early/middle section of a longer thing, so sense is decidedly...lacking. I need to stop writing ass backwards. ;___;Thanks for commenting. ^^
BTW, in the beginning of the first part, I got just a little confused over whether it was Bracura's or Max's POV. The wording was just a little tricky.
*Pouncesmackbite.*Rah. Sorry it's got me this long to comment, but I'm not entirely here in more ways that one now. I told you this already, but what strikes me most is how unique and refreshing your style is. It's this really neat combination of present tense and third person, detached and intimate, mundane-life-like and surreal. And it keeps you satisfied and wanting more at the same time. I love how casual the Max/Vlad interaction is, because it makes the crazeh look wonderfully normal.And marshmallow thieving (why didn't you post that bit, btw? Is it part of your foilful masterhamsterplan? >_>) maybeimaginary!Vlad is <O3.The whole thing is great, and you have a real talent for this drabbleful business. Everything feels very special and whole despite the short size. NOW I WANTS MORE GIMME MORE OR I'LL KITTYFACE SPAM YOU. @_@