InsaneJournal

Blowing Hot Air (G), Anesthetize (Viola/Godot, PG-13)
Title: Blowing Hot Air
Fandom: Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney
Completion date: November 22nd, 2008
Wordcount: 48
Rating: G
Prompt: CONVECTION!



     Phoenix pointed. "That oven has no attached fan unit! It can't be a convection oven!"

     Armstrong mewled, scattering rose petals. "Mon dieu! La oven, I paid une belle penny for her! Ah, monsieur, you truly 'ave ze eye of la discerning artiste!"

     More like an eye for failure, Phoenix thought.



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C'mon, you knew that either a foodie or a science major would grab the prompt. Also, this is definitely the shortest thing I've ever tried to pass off as a fic. XD



Title: Anesthetize
Fandom: Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney
Completion date: November 26th, 2008
Wordcount: 530
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Godot x Viola. Bonus points if she sedates his coffee. Additional inspiration from this lovely (and worksafe) fanart that filled the prompt.



     He'd done it again, he'd trusted a pretty face for one stupid moment; why couldn't he learn?

     He rolled, under someone else's power. The goggles lifted away and he was too heavy to resist. All he had now was the darkness, and cool air on his face, and a girl's hand smoothing hair off his forehead.
     "What the hell was in that coffee ...?" Slurred, and tiny. He could hear his own white spark of panic.
     "I ground the beans myself ... Isn't the flavour ... relaxing?"
     Touch strroked his hair, slow and wondering, tracing the shape. They always played nice at first. He gave up trying to move; his limbs were as dead as he was. He stared up into the blackness, and wished his mouth would move to scowl.
     "You seemed ... like you would appreciate it."
     Coffee still lingered on his palette, somewhere past the sourness and hate. He tried to swallow. The sound struggled.
     "Your coffee's fine. It doesn't need additives."
     Silence: she must have smiled in it.

     Her fingers burrowed and drew lines on his scalp, warm as friction. This wasn't like before. No taste of coins in his mouth, no rising voices. No pain. This was a steady shudder inside him that was very nearly worse, as she arranged his hair spread on ... her lap, he supposed. Cradled in a witch's kind lap.
     "Ha ... Guess I'm going to sleep with the fish?" Trite deserved this death, though. For sticking his nose in, and for not sticking his nose in when it mattered.
     "This has ... nothing to do with my ... connections."
     "Nothing touches a spider's web without sticking."
     Another pause; her hand curled arabesque into his hair as she thought. He was numb and floating and following those fingertips.
     "My family," she tried, "Must be ... careful. We have enemies ... I'm sure you know that, Mr. Prosecutor. Enemies who would like nothing better ... than to lay waste ... to everything we are ... Watch it all go up in pretty flames ..."
     Wanting to ruin and to protect, now there was a familiar feeling. He wouldn't have minded smirking now, all fangs. "This is just politics?"
     "What in this world ... isn't politics?"
     "You just said this has nothing to do with your connections." Maybe his eyes moved a fraction, maybe he glared blind but he'd never know. "Viola. What're you really after?"

     Fingers left his hair, then. They brushed curious down his jaw, flitted over every whisker like strange treasure.

     "Are you afraid, Mr. Godot ...?" She spoke like frost: quietly.
     It took a moment to think around the trailing touch on the line of his throat, the fiery afterglow of panic and the still air around them. He tried again to swallow, or wet his lips, or something. Dress fabric murmured. Death had gentle hands.
     "Like light without darkness ... There's no courage if you're not afraid."
     A moment where her fingers stopped, and fluttered with her own pulse. She nudged the corner of his mouth; the nagging dampness vanished, and he was watched over.
     "Everyone ... is afraid ... of something."

     Fingers returned to his hair, twining greeting. She reclined, and stroked him. He wondered what to do when this wore off.



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I like how as Godot, this guy'll belly so much easier to a woman. That really fits with the Phoenix arc's theme of females in power, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you how much I love that kinda stuff.