imaginepageant (imaginepageant) wrote,
imaginepageant
imaginepageant

Fox Legacy 1:2

LAST TIME: Fiona Fox failed at life. She set fire to her house the first time she tried to cook, she couldn't get into a single exclusive club even after bribing the bouncers, and she repelled men as though she was wearing a "TEAM EDWARD" t-shirt.









Look! Fiona finally got into an exclusive club!

Fiona: Yes, I'll have a Cosmopolitan and Jesus Christ your boobs are huge.





The place was deserted. Fiona sat there alone at the bar for hours, waiting for someone, anyone, to show up, but it never happened.

I realized at that point that exclusive clubs are bullshit.





So we went to The Grind instead and look! Not one, but two people! And not just people—celebrities.





Fiona: Celebrities? No problem. I am going to impress the shit out of them.





Fiona: Oh yeah, I see all kinds of interesting things in my line of work. You wouldn't believe all the empty hairspray bottles I found in Lala Angelista's trash can the other day. She's going to single-handedly destroy the ozone layer with those habits and—





Ritchie Striker: How would you like an autograph?





Fiona: EEEEEEEEEE YES OMG RITCHIE STRIKER'S AUTOGRAPH AWESOME!





Fiona: Wait, when did you change your name to "Get the hell away from me b—" Oh. Oh, I see.





Fiona: Is he looking? Is he? He's looking, isn't he? He's totally looking. Oh yeah, he wants me.





This is the face of someone who is coming to realize that nobody wants her.





Fiona: Can't we just call a repairman?

No. You want to clog the toilet every morning, you can very well learn how to use the plunger.





That afternoon, Fiona snooped through random mailboxes for a case.





Fiona: I could've gone my whole life without knowing that Barry had a subscription to Cosmo... I really could have.





Speaking of Barry.

Fiona: OH HI BARRY HOW ARE YOU ISN'T IT A BEAUTIFUL DAY DON'T YOU LOVE THE SUNSHINE!

Barry: Oh hell.





Barry: Whoops, look at the time! I'd better get to work!

Fiona: But... it's... Sunday. Or is it Monday? Oh no wait, it's Thursday, isn't it?





Fiona: So through my powers of deduction I have found that the rash of spam sweeping the city's mailboxes is GOOD GOD YOUR BREASTS ARE HUGE.

Some Chick: Aw, thank you!





WHY DOES EVERYTHING BREAK EVERY SINGLE DAY GOD DAMMIT





Fine, you can call a repairman this time, but you're responsible for mopping up your kitchen, young lady.





After dealing with the flood, Fiona changed into her underwear and left to work on a case. I don't even know.





Five hours later:

Fiona: I feel like I'm forgetting something very important today...





Fiona: What do you mean you're too busy to go out to dinner? I hear Wheel of Fortune playing in the background! Clearly you can't be that busy—hello? Barry? Hello?





Fiona: Huh. His battery must've died or something.





So we did what any obsessed stalker totally normal person would do and went to Barry's apartment.

Fiona: Hiiiiiii Barry! Now we can watch Wheel of Fortune together! Isn't that great?

Barry: Oh yeah... fantastic.





Fiona: I have a confession to make. I can't stop thinking about you! You're easily the most attractive man in Bridgeport. Or at least, you're the most attractive man in Bridgeport that will actually talk to me.

Barry: Uh. Thanks. How many men in Bridgeport will talk to you?

Fiona: Um... just you at the moment but anyway!





Fiona: You wouldn't happen to have any food on you, would you?





Fiona: Hmph. I said food, not juice.

Barry: You're welcome.





Uh, hang on. That's not juice—that's plasma! FIONA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!

Fiona: Tastes like misery.





Then this hoochie shows up. And yes I realize I'm calling someone else a hoochie when Fiona has been gallavanting around town in her underwear all day but whatever. This hoochie shows up out of nowhere and starts flirting with Barry.





AND BUYING HIS LOVE WITH FLOWERS YOU HOOCHIE!





Fiona: Hmmm. I feel like I should be bothered by what I just saw, but... wait, what did I see again?





Fiona: Did you forget to put pants on this morning, or are you actually trying to pass that off as a dress?

Hoochie: Are you fucking kidding me? You're in your underwear!





Fiona: Pfft, yeah. As if I'd actually leave the house in my underwear. Right.





Fiona spent the rest of the night staking out the beach for some case or other.





Dreadlocks: Here's the money. You got the goods?

Fiona: Doesn't look like anything's going on here...





Teenager: I hacked into the database and deleted the evidence against you. You're in the clear.

Fiona: Nothing over here, either.





Topher Beckett: SO HERE'S THE SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS YOU WANTED ME TO STEAL FROM THE POLICE DEPARTMENT! ARE THERE ANY OTHER ILLEGAL ACTIVITIES YOU NEED ME TO DO?

Fiona: Nnnnnnnnope, absolutely nothing is happening here tonight. This was a total waste of time.





After three failed stakeouts, I used my Google Fu and discovered that there's a glitch with Ambitions that prevents private investigators from registering any shady dealings that go down during a stakeout. AWESOME.





The next night, Fiona cooked a nice meal of grilled cheeses and invited Barry over for dinner. And then, this happened.

Fiona: OH NO! DON'T EVEN TOUCH ME, YOU CHEATING DOG! I SAW YOU WITH THAT HOOCHIE THE OTHER NIGHT! HOW COULD YOU!





She pretty much refused to have anything to do with him after that. Their relationship plummeted into the red, and she got all sorts of bad moodlets for being cheated on and being creeped out and the whatnot. And thus, we are back at square one.





Fiona: Okay. Okay. Okay. I may not have made any progress in finding a husband or having children yet, but this is a new day. A new day full of possibilities and OH MY GOD I'M SO ALOOOOOOOOOOOONE.





I didn't want to waste time working on cases that would be unsolveable thanks to the stakeout glitch, so I changed Fiona's LTW to Fashion Phenomenon. Which will probably be just as difficult to achieve, BUT THERE IS A METHOD TO MY MADNESS.





Fiona: Hello! I would like to be a stylist at your fine establishment!

Head Stylist: Do you have any experience?





Fiona: Well... no... but here's the thing. I'm almost halfway through my fertile years and I've only been to first base and your tattoo artist is my only hope at this point so PLEASE HIRE ME SO I CAN GET CLOSER TO HIM.

Head Stylist: Only first base? Damn. Don't worry, honey, I got your back. You're hired.





Fiona: OH HEY RYAN GUESS WHAT! WE WORK TOGETHER NOW! YAAAAAAAAAAAY!

Ryan: Son of a bitch.





Fiona: As a professional stylist, let me just say that your fashion sense is brilliant!

Ryan: NO IT ISN'T. *MINUS MINUS MINUS*





Fine, then you can be our first victim client!





Fiona: So! What do you think?





Ryan: I FUCKING HATE IT YOU FUCKING CUNT!

Fiona: Yay! That'll be $30, please.





WAIT WAIT STOP STOP, HE'S SMILING! HE'S ACTUALLY SMILING!





He's smiling... because Fiona is leaving.





Fiona: Hello, Barry. If that is your real name. Don't think I want to talk to you, you jerk. I was forced into making this phone call against my will.





Fiona: LALALALA NOT LISTENING TO YOU LALALALA.

So, that went well.





Fiona is just as good at being a stylist as she was at being a private investigator, which is to say, not very.





You might be thinking that they're flirting in this picture. You'd be wrong.





Fiona: Good morning darling.

Ryan: HOLYSHIT how long have you been standing there?





They are BOTH SMILING. And they are BOTH IN THE SAME ROOM. Maybe this isn't so hopeless after all!





Fiona: BUT HOW CAN YOU NOT LIKE SCIENCE?

Ryan: BECAUSE IT CREATED YOU!

I'm so screwed.





Fiona: Okay. Okay. It's a new day. Again. Full of possibilities, blah blah blah, et cetera.





What? What is this? A POSITIVE INTERACTION?





I don't know what happened, but all of a sudden, after a week of him bitching every time Fiona got within five feet of him, he was letting her share secrets and flatter him and compliment his fashion sense. COULD THIS BE OUR SALVATION?





Fiona: So now that I'm no longer in fear of my life around you, I'd just like to say... you're really cute.





Ryan: Oh, uh, thanks... but I don't think my wife would appreciate that.





FUCK. MY. LIFE.





This old guy was outside the salon one night, bawling over the death of someone I assume was his wife. It is a testament to my desperation that my first thought was, "Well, he's single..."





Fiona: It'll be okay! She's in a better place now! And someday, you'll see her again, and—





Old Guy: WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TO SPEAK TO ME ABOUT MY WIFE?

Fiona: But... but... okay, call me!





Fiona: There's that feeling again, like I've forgotten something really important...





Fiona: BUT WHAT?





Ryan agreed to go out with Fiona the next night.





And, as is apparently his custom, he turned around and left the second he got there.





Some vampire named Vladimir showed up the next morning and stared in through the window for roughly three hours before ringing the doorbell. That's not creepy at all.





Fiona: OMG HI! YOU'RE A MAN! HI! HI! MAN! OMG!





Vladimir: So let me tell you all the reasons why you should fall in love with me, Vladimir the Vampire!





Fiona: Whoa, whoa, wait, vampire? Oh no, I don't do vampires.

FOR GOD'S SAKE FIONA YOU DO NOT HAVE A LOT OF OPTIONS HERE. TAKE WHAT YOU CAN GET.





It must be incredibly unsettling to have a vampire stare you down whilst thinking about how hungry he is.





Thankfully, he chowed down on a plasma fruit instead of Fiona.





We then subjected him to a patented Fiona Fox Makeover.

Vladimir: WHAT THE HELL! I LOOK LIKE I BELONG IN AN ANNE RICE NOVEL!

He loved it.





Yeah, yeah. Story of Fiona's life.





The next night, Ryan met up with Fiona downtown and actually stayed for more than five minutes.





AND THEN HE LET HER FLIRT WITH HIM WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?





Fiona: Maybe... if I just... sneak my hand over his... he won't kill me.





Ryan: Hey, what is that? What's touching me? Is that... another person? This feels so new and unfamiliar... but nice. Who knew?





Nothing says romance like having your first kiss ten feet away from a dumpster.





YES YES YES OMG DO ITTTTTTT





Fiona: So, um, I was wondering if you'd be interested in considering the possibility of maybe breaking up with your wife?

Ryan: Eh, sure. I never liked that bitch anyway.





Fiona: YAY! CELEBRATION HUGS!

Ryan: NO. NO MORE TOUCHING. I'm already getting a rash as it is. I should probably just go now.





Fiona: That went well... I think?

For the first time, I understand her confusion completely.





NEXT TIME:

Babies?
BABIES?
OH GOD LET THERE BE BABIES