Drizzt Do'Urden

First attempt at heroes/slash

2008-09-17T07:14:49Z

Untitled
Pairings: Sylar x Mohinder
Summary: Sylar has a very vivid encounter with Mohinder on a very special day...
I do not own anything, especially anything Heroes related >.<

I kissed his light brown cheek gently, wrapping my arms around his stomach. "It looks beautiful" I said quietly.

"You really think so?" he replied, looking at the newly decorated Christmas tree in the corner of their small flat in Queens.

"I really do, now let's sit and just enjoy the night." I sat down on the couch, and patted the cushion in front of me.

I wrapped my arms around him and held him close, nuzzling my nose into his cheek and neck.

"I love you Mohinder..." I whispered softly.

"I love you too, which is why I have a surprise gift for you" he smiled gently, his words touching my soul. "Close your eyes, please."

I followed his directions obiediently. "Mohinder, it's Christmas eve. You should wait until tomorrow love."

"Open your eyes" the words barely escaped his lips.

As I opened my eyes, I saw myself looking directly down the barrel of a company gun.

"Mohin..."

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Sylar awoke with a start, trying to gather his bearings. Sweat dripped down his forhead and off his nose. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, and reached for the glass on his nightstand, and took a deep swallow.

Light started to shine through his window, and he could see that he was still in a motel room, half a day outside of New York City.

A knock on the door brought him back to his senses "Gabriel, we should get going soon."

That annoying, nails on a fucking chalkboard, voice. "Soon, I won't have to hear it ever again" he whispered under his breath as he got up and slid his jeans, that fit his legs and ass so well, on above the boxers he slept in, and tossed on a shirt over his black muscle tee. "Coming Maya."

Sylar splashed some water on his face, and made his way towards the door. "I'm coming home Mohinder" he smiled to himself as he opened the door and walked right by Maya towards the car.

backstory for a character I really want to use, Roscoe

2008-06-27T22:03:25Z

Roscoe is by no means a "young" halfling, despite his appearance, neither is he old. At the ripe age of 34 he had seen and caused more violence than most of his kin could ever account for. When he was younger, he showed more physical aptitude than most halflings ever do, and after achieving adulthood left his small village to join his older sister Jillian, and help patrol the borders of the Talenta plains. Roscoe complimented the team nicely, and he preferred the isolation...and the fighting. He soon realized that this woodland gang was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Years went by, and the boy quickly grew into a man. Roscoe's skills were honing from each and every encounter the halfling "police force" ran into. Working together, there seemed to be nothing the four could not keep the villages of Talenta safe from. With himself as the muscle, Jillian as the brains, and the twins Garret and Milo knowing the plains like the back of their hands, they safely stopped evil adventurers and bandit hordes of almost every race. He had the scars to prove it too. Not every fight was easy on him, especially since all the others had quite a few more years of experience on their shoulders, but he was damned if he was going to let that stop him.

23 years had passed, and Roscoe loved life. He loved the thrill of the hunt, and the smell of fear that his prey gave off, right before he moved in for the attack. Until that fateful night; it had been raining hard ever since they had started pursuing the band of Dhakaani slavers. The slavers had somehow slipped through the small band's defenses and were retreating with a handful of halflings to sell as slaves. They were catching up to their prey, the slavers would have no chance against the 4 of them...there was only tell tale signs of 10, and they had been up against worse. As they neared the campsite that the slavers had put up, they were ambushed. The rain had helped give their attackers cover that the party had not anticipated. They were easily overwhelmed, and Roscoe was outnumbered. Soon he found himself fading into a deep sleep, and the last thing he saw before his eyes closed, was his sister's head falling to the ground, followed shortly by her body.

He awoke several days later, battered, bruised, and bloody. It hurt for him to move, let alone open his eyes to the blinding light. The sight before him almost tore him to pieces. His sister lay dead on the ground, her body had been gorged upon by ravenous birds, and she wasn't a pretty sight. The two brothers were nowhere to be found, probably taken off by the slavers. Roscoe himself was hurt, from the many wounds that the slavers had left. He realized he must have passed out from loss of blood, and the slavers must have thought he was dead...it was the only logical explanation he could come up with. He slowly made his way back to the gang's headquarters in a slightly woody part of the plains, near the outskirts of Talenta itself, and fell into a deep sleep, waking only to eat then returning to sleep.

Within weeks, he was almost fully recovered, but his body still looked ragged, and would for the rest of his life. A long scar running from his shoulder, almost down to his elbow, and many on his chest and back. His face was left fairly unharmed, but his dark blue eyes tell tales that most halflings couldn't even dream of.

He wanders the world now, continuing to carry the burden of his past on his shoulders. No matter where he goes, and who he meets, he does what he can to keep people safe, the only way he knows how...with bloodshed.
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My first post, an old story just to start off...

2008-06-27T21:42:56Z

Regret is something we all feel, but can do nothing about. Everyone wants to go back and change something that they feel would have made their lives better, but it's not something we can do.

Sometimes it's very hard to live down the choices that we make, and it's even harder to replace the people that we hurt because of those choices. Would anyone's life be the same if they could change the one thing that haunts them the most?

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Michael Alan was a hard working man. He made sure that there was enough money to support his wife and two kids, David and Rebecca. He worked long hours but barely got to see the three most important people in his life. He constantly sacrificed time with his family for more hours behind a desk crunching numbers.

Christmas time was the longest time of the year for Michael. Burnstein and Co. had been understaffed due to budget cuts since May, and everyone was putting in double shifts with little to no overtime. Michael would be gone from five in the morning, to ten or eleven at night. Everyone in his house was asleep when he got up and when he came home, his meals consisted of cold leftovers and
poptarts, and worst of all was his lack of sleep.

It was December 24th and Michael hadn't seen his family in almost two weeks. His lack of sleep was visible in his eyes and his apathetic mood. His boss approached him in the hallway, and told him to go home early and see his family. Mr. Burnstein also gave Michael a bonus check for all his hard work.

He went out that night and bought gifts for his family, and brought them all home. The house was silent, and all the lights were off in his home when he arrived, and his wife's car was not in the driveway. This was odd considering she always had the kid's in bed by 7:30. Michael glanced down at his wristwatch..."8:35"

He went inside, sat the gifts down, and called his wife's cell phone. The sound of her phone made him jump: she didn't have her phone. His mind reeled at the possibilities of where she could be, what could be happening to her. Finally exhaustion overtook him, and he passed out on the sofa.

Michael awoke to a pounding on his front door. He rose and answered it, not remembering much of the night before. Sheriff Haphburn greeted him, and asked to come in. They sat at the table for ten minutes talking, before Michael burst into tears, and lay his head down on the table sobbing.

Jason Gunther, a senior in high school, broke into the Alan's home early in the evening on the 24th. No one was home, so he thought he could lift a couple of items before anyone returned. When Michael's wife and her kids came strolling in the door, Jason pulled a gun on them and forced them outside into her car. Jason sat in the passenger seat, his 45 aimed at her temple, and she drove.

Early Christmas morning, Sheriff Haphburn got a call about a wreck on the highway. Mrs. Alan's red jeep was wrapped around a tree, a bullet had passed through her entire skull and out the other side. There were no survivors.

Michael went to their graves every Christmas, and he laid a red rose in front of each of their tombstones. He would stay for hours, talking to them, telling them how much he loved and missed each and every one of them. He cried a lot, since that night, and everytime he closes his eyes, he's sees all three of them. Each of them wearing white, and all beyond arms reach.