Well hello there. Here is my first ever fanfiction. Woo-hoo! I’ve become an extremely active reviewer over the past few months, and figured it was time to actually write something. I am not here to discourage flames, but would better appreciate a toast: A well-rounded, critiquing, review.
Disclaimer: If I was Jenny Nimmo, I would be able to write a lot better than this. Neither do I own any brands mentioned in this chapter. If I did, I’d be rich.
Ships For The Entire Fic For The Time Being: Emma/Tancred, Dorcas/Joshua, Olivia/Fidelio, Lysander/OC, Manfred/Zelda, and Charlie/OC. These are certainly subject to change.

Asa Pike - Caffiene Un-Crazed

Asa Pike sat at his desk, head in his hands. He was an animal cruelty officer, and had gone out four times that day responding to anonymous tips. Because of that, he had to finish all the police reports by the morning, and it was currently 11:39. He was dangerously near falling asleep.

I could use some Monster, he thought, getting up from his chair and wandering out into the hallway.

About ten minutes later, Asa was still yet to find the staff vending machine. But finally, after falling into a wheely chair, causing someone to drop several dozen manila folders, and walking in on two and a half different co-worker affairs (Gods(1), crazy nightshifters) there it was. Stumbling into Lounge Room 2, Asa began to hear harps. There, in the corner, was a soda and a snack machine. Asa ran to the soda machine and thrust a handful of nickels and dimes into the coin slot. But then, DISASTER. Only three out of all the drinks were still available; Vegetable V8, Red Bull, and Moxie(2). Asa began to panic. He couldn’t drink V8 because – in the words of Mackenzie Bone – “the stuff’s ick.” Moxie was out of the question, because it tasted of root beer and cough syrup.

“Red Bull it is,” Asa muttered to himself, pressing the appropriate button. After retrieving it, he cracked the lid and took a long sip. Oh dear gods, what is this madness?! Asa thought, gagging at the taste. Frantically looking around for somewhere to spit out the vile drink, Asa spotted a pair of boots. These boots belonged to Dave Timbermin, aka: the most obnoxious, competitive, and arrogant of all the officers.

Making a split-second decision, Asa leaped across the room and grabbed a boot, spitting into it.

Oh crap, he thought, after realizing what he had done, I’m really going to get it. …But he deserves it.

Setting the boot down on the conference table, Asa strode over to the snack machine, still in need of something to keep him awake. And something to get rid of this aftertaste. It’s almost like melted nerds.

After carefully scanning through the options, Asa found the perfect fix: Sour Skittles. After putting in sixty cents and punching in the coordinate buttons, Asa closed his eyes. He breathed deeply as he listened for the grinding of the coils and the comforti–

Wait! Where was the soft thump? Asa snapped his eyes open and looked through the glass in horror: A tiny corner of the wrapper was snagged on a coil. Asa’s heart dropped.

“No no no no no!” he whined, near - but not quite - defeated. Dropping to his knees, Asa pushed open the retrieval door and shoved him arm up towards the stuck skittles.

Being a gorilla would be much more convenient than being a were-beast at the moment, thought Asa as he stretched his arm, just a few inches(3) short of his prize. Asa squirmed, and he stretched, and he was told by passersby that he sounded like a dying cat. In the end, he had to retreat. Full of frustration, he kicked the machine, only to have it drop his candy with an innocent plop.

Took long enough, Asa thought as he walked back to his office. He was steadily gaining strange looks from co-workers as he popped skittles into his mouth, then twisting his face at the sour taste. Asa swung into his office, where there on his chair lay a single bottle of Amp. “Call Jacob Black”, was written across the label in Sharpie. Asa sighed and picked up the phone.

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8am, the next morning.

Dave Timbermin walked into work, whistling as opened the door to his office. Surprised, Dave strode over to his desk. Atop his shoes was twenty dollars and a note: IOU 1 boot.

I did it. I wrote my first fanfiction. Well, sort of. I apologize if it seemed really random, but it’s important for later chapters. I must say this though, DON’T DRINK ENERGY DRINKS. THEY ARE GROSS AND WORSE THAN DRINKING SODA. IF YOU NEED CAFFEINE, DRINK ICED TEA OR SOMETHING.
Footnotes:
(1) – Like the Greek God(desse)s
(2) – There’s a reason it’s only sold in nine states. Um, ew!
(3) – Sorry, I’m just so American.

Review! If you want to! Please! I would be happy! Even if you flame! I think this kinda sucked too! Tell me your inner feelings! Or don't! Just Review! Please!