Merry Christmas!
Dec. 25th, 2017 03:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crossover_chickBeen pretty good so far, I gotta say. :) We got a bit of snow in the morning hours, so it's a white Christmas, and I got a pretty good haul:
-->Two things of gum
-->A box of Ferreo Rocher (bigger than usual too!)
-->A set of soda-flavored Lip Smackers chapstick (Coca-Cola, Barqs Root Beer, Sprite, and Fanta flavors)
-->A $50 Kohl's gift card (as I could still use some more new clothes)
-->A little address book for my contacts (prefilled with some entries for my parents, aunt, Twins Pizza, and the electrician who put in our dryer for a cheap price)
-->A "Fact or Crap" peel-a-day calendar (I am amused and will use this at work)
-->A two-set of Ghostbusters: Answer The Call minimates, featuring Erin Gilbert and Jillian Holtzmann (I asked for these since I wanted a couple of the girls to fit with the guys -- Erin's helping with the Gozer defeat, while Holtz is walking in on Egon and Janine studying my glow-in-the-dark Slimer)
-->A box of organic microwave popcorn (yes this is a thing) from my Auntie Anne
-->A can of hot chocolate mix from my Auntie Anne (did not specify if it was organic or not)
-->A HydroFlask thermos from my Auntie Ann (it's big and thick and perfect for soup)
Not too shabby, eh? :) Especially combined with my earlier gifts from my coworkers. :)
However, I still need to give a few gifts -- specifically, story gifts! So, for those closest to me, here are your tales!
Moose: Parenthood On Ice
"Here we go! Wheeee!"
Marty laughed as they glided over the ice, legs wobbling but arms held in George's firm grip. "Woooo, yeah!" George said, playfully lifting the three-year-old into the air. "Look at you! Soon you'll be good enough to go professional!"
Marty laughed again and kicked his feet (fortunately, nowhere near George's legs -- George had learned from the last skating trip, which had ended with a trip to the hospital and what he thought was a very overblown bill for a few stitches). Nearby, Linda pouted and tried to tug her hand out of Lorraine's. "I wanna go with Daddy!" she complained. "Why does Marty always get to go with Daddy? It's not fair!"
"You'll get your turn," Lorraine told her, continuing their slow circle around the edges of the lake.
Linda stomped her foot -- an act that almost made her other leg slide out from under her. "I wanna go now!"
George sighed. Oh dear, here they went. Linda had never been all that fond of her little brother's existence, and when she got into one of her jealous moods. . . He scooped Marty into his arms and skated over to them. "Here -- you take him, Lorraine, and I'll take Linda."
Lorraine frowned. "We really shouldn't be rewarding her whining, George," she said in an undertone, even as she accepted the happily-oblivious Marty.
"I know, I know, but. . ." He looked down at the little round face, gazing up at him adoringly. "When it comes to kids, I'm just not very good at -- confrontations."
Lorraine smirked at him. "Oh, he who laid low Biff Tannen, laid low himself by a five-year-old girl."
"Come on, Lorrie, you're not much better than--"
Whump!
Both George and Lorraine's heads snapped right, to where their eldest was now lying sprawled on his back across the ice. "Dave? You all right?"
"Fine!" Dave said, struggling to push himself back up onto his skates. "I'm just fine!"
"You're sure?" George said, skating over.
"Yes!" Dave glared at him. "I don't need any help!"
"Okay, okay. . ." George held up his hands, skating to and fro nearby as Dave fought to get his feet under him. He didn't remember having such an independent streak at seven years old. Then again, Dave was a very different person from him. (Right down to the looks -- Dave had proven to be one of those rare McFly genetic sports that didn't end up with either what George thought of as the 'Seamus' face or the 'Arthur' one, instead resembling an uncle on Lorraine's side of the family. And nobody could pinpoint where he'd gotten such curly hair.) It was fascinating, watching his children grow and change and develop their own personalities. And inspiring -- he'd gotten a lot of mileage out of just how alien toddlers could be.
"Down! Put me down!"
Speaking of which. . . George turned back to his wife, who was setting Marty on the ice. Linda watched with a scowl, clearly believing she'd been forgotten. "Hey, Lindy-Jo!" George called, crouching down and waving to her. "Can you skate all the way over to me?"
Linda instantly brightened and started making her shaky way over to him as Lorraine started leading Marty around the ice. Behind him, George heard Dave grunt in triumph as he finally got back upright. He grinned, feeling a surge of happiness and pride as Linda landed safely in his embrace. Who knew a kiss at a dance and one skating date would lead to all this? One of these days, I really gotta track down Calvin and thank him properly.
Continuing my current theme of "BTTF goes skating," since I feel combining those two is a pretty safe bet. XD Since I've already covered "George and Lorraine go on skating dates," I figured this time I'd do some family fluff. We all like little McFly kidlets, right? ;) Also took the opportunity to point out that BTTF's later fascination with "clone generations" means that Dave now barely looks like a McFly. Poor kid's a genetic sport indeed. We still love you, though, Dave.
Gigs: Simulated Illness
fwoosh, Fwoosh, FWOOOSH
Lisa looked up as a bunch of leaves flew in through the stable door. Descending in front of her house was a familiar giant blue butterfly, beating up dust as it lowered itself carefully to the ground. "Ooops -- looks like we have company," she told Shada, petting his nose. "I'll be back in just a little bit to finish restocking the hay, okay?"
Shada whinnied. Lisa chuckled, gave him one last pat, then went outside to greet her visitor. "Hi Victor! What brings you--"
She stopped as Victor turned toward her. Uh-oh -- judging by that expression, and the corgi cradled against his chest, this wasn't a social call. "I-I'm sorry to just drop in like this," he said, disembarking. "It's just -- when I w-woke up this morning, I realized I h-hadn't heard Lightning barking at the alarm clock. And t-then when I went to see him in his bed. . ." He held out the sad-looking dog, lip quivering. "I know I'm p-probably panicking, it's just. . .we've only had him for a year and. . ."
"I get it, I get it," Lisa assured him. "We all get like that about our pets. You should see some of the other Touched who've blown in here. You're practically subdued." She took Lightning, frowning as the dog basically flopped into her arms. "Hey boy. . .funny not to see you running around at a million miles per hour." She gently scratched behind his ears. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"
My mouth tastes awful, Lightning reported -- indeed, long strings of ugly green drool were hanging from his jaw. And I'm cold. Lost my breakfast too.
Lisa reported this to Victor, who nodded. "Yes, he threw up right before I got him on Ferdy. . .and I thought he was drooling a bit more lately, but I didn't. . .it wasn't green before."
Lisa gently poked Lightning's nose. "Ick -- way wetter than it should be," she said, wrinkling her own. "Well, that confirms it -- poor Lightning's picked up a case of Advanced Swamp Mouth."
"Advanced?" Victor repeated, twisting his tie.
"Don't worry, it's almost never fatal," Lisa quickly reassured him. "And he's not even at the worst stage yet -- that generally requires surgery." She stroked Lightning's head, getting a weak tail wag. "Fortunately, one of my homemade Medicine X biscuits should fix him right up."
"Oh. Good," Victor said, breathing a sigh of relief. He shook his head with a soft chuckle. "Swamp Mouth. . .you know, even after a couple of years in Secundus, I still have trouble believing all the strange diseases in the city. And I've been turned purple a couple of times by that stupid Prismatic Cold. . ." His expression turned curious. "Does that ever happen to animals?"
"Well, Frozen Mange generally makes cats and dogs blue -- though I don't know if that's an actual color change, or just a result of their fur icing up," Lisa said, walking with him over to the house. "And Magmafied Organs -- just a name, I promise -- makes their paws and noses glow bright red." She smirked. "Though I think my favorite is Prismatic Poop Plague."
"Pris -- oh, it doesn't," Victor groaned, pressing a hand against his face.
Lisa giggled. "Yeah -- be grateful you don't have rainbow poop all over your house, is what I'm saying. Though it does make cleaning up after them a lot more fun."
"I'll pass, thanks."
With you, I know using the alt!Secundus!Lisa is generally a good bet. :p I decided I wanted to do something with her actually acting as a vet, and figured Lightning would be a decent patient. And then, while coming up with what illness he could have. . .well, I think you know what recent expansion pack to The Sims 4 I took inspiration from. XD What, those illnesses are more than goofy enough to be a part of Secundus! I chose Swamp Mouth for Lightning more or less at random, after deciding on the "lethargic" symptom. Too bad he couldn't get Gilded Guts Syndrome, eh Victor?
Mad Scientist: Corvo Vacation
"Holy crap. That's a hell of a view."
"I told you so," Alice said, gazing across the wide expanse of ocean. "And that's with the fog. Can you imagine what it would be like without it?"
"I think Victor's got some ideas," Marty commented, glancing at his adopted cousin. Sure enough, Victor had his sketchbook out, and was gamely sketching out as much of the landscape in the other direction as he could see. "I think you're just gonna have to guess at some of it, buddy."
"No, no -- the fog's always moving, so if I just keep watching. . ." Victor scritched away with his pen. "I know it's not going to be perfect, but still. This is -- I have to get it down."
"I'm more intrigued by the drop," Doc admitted, looking down the sheer cliff at the waves crashing against the tiny strip of shore below. "It's almost like someone simply carved part of the island away. For a geologist, it must be fascinating."
"You seem pretty taken for a physicist and engineer," Alice commented, taking a peek herself.
"Well, I've claimed before that I'm a student of all sciences. Though admittedly geology was never one of my fortes. I can tell different rocks apart, but that's about it."
Victor turned to have a look himself, then shook his head and turned away. "It's very impressive, but goodness if it doesn't give me vertigo."
"Vertigo?" Marty gave Victor an incredulous look. "You're six-foot-three."
Victor glanced at him over his shoulder. "And that's. . .somehow supposed to make me immune?"
"The perspective of tall people is not that different from that of short people," Doc told him, ruffling Marty's hair playfully.
"I'm not that short! Come on, Alice, back me up here!"
"I married the tall person -- you should be calling me a height traitor," Alice reminded him, smirking. "Though I will say, Victor, with your climbing skills, your getting vertigo is a bit of a surprise."
"When I'm climbing, I'm usually looking up. And I've never climbed anything this high," Victor added, sneaking another peek at the cliff.
"Do you think you could?" Marty asked, curious.
"I -- probably not? Or at least not without feeling utterly miserable afterward. . . ."
"I wouldn't think so," Doc agreed, frowning at the rock. "We have to be at least fifteen hundred feet above sea level, probably more. Not a good idea to try climbing it all in one go without any special equipment."
"Indeed -- your arms would probably fall off," Alice said. "And I think we all prefer them still attached to you."
"I certainly do," Victor nodded. He gazed appreciatively out across the caldera again, then hugged himself. "Lovely as it is out here, it's getting a touch chilly."
"Wind's picking up," Doc said in explanation. "I could calm it down?"
"No, that's all right," Victor said, making sure his sketch was dry before flipping his book closed. "We should probably head inside for a bit -- check on Dee."
"Mmm," Alice agreed, helping Victor to his feet. "I hope she hasn't been giving Mrs. Dent too much trouble."
Marty snorted. "Gilda Dent? Alice, this is the lady who killed pretty much every major mobster in Gotham over a year and never got freakin' caught. She even snuck out of the hospital to off some of them. I don't think a DeLorean that likes to be a little girl is gonna give her much grief."
". . .I have got to start reading some of these comics."
Figured I'd do something related to your new world that's being built up, now that Alice has actually gotten a chance to visit the island! I was originally going to do my first "beach party" idea, but when I read up some more on Corvo Island and realized that it doesn't seem to ever get THAT hot, I decided instead to have them admiring some of the striking natural scenery. I look at some aerial pics online, and those cliffs ARE something else. And anything that allows me to reference just how badass Gilda Dent is is good with me. XD
Ael: What I Expect Of You
Well, Atlas -- now you know what it's like to be on the other side of a revolution.
Jack carefully extracted himself from the Rosie suit, tossing the helmet aside with a CLANG. How those Big Daddies had been able to see him well enough to keep shooting him full of holes was beyond him. . .well, hopefully he'd never have to tussle with one again. How many Little Sisters had he managed to free? He frowned, adding up in his head. Two in Steinman's lair, three over in Fort Frolic, two in the apartments. . .about twenty-one, all told? Yeah, he was pretty sure that was right. . . Hopefully they were the last ones.
Movement to his right caught his attention. The Sisters were still flocking all over Fontaine's body -- a few extracting ADAM with their needles, following old conditioning; others jumping up and down and clapping. "The bad man's an angel now!" one announced to her sisters.
"Mr. Bubbles kicked his butt!" another agreed.
A third nodded -- then noticed him watching them from the floor. Slowly, she turned toward him and tottered over, something golden clutched in her hand. Jack pushed himself off the floor and stood up to see -- ah. Good old Ryan's genetic key. Lifeblood of Rapture. With a nervous look, she held it out to him.
Jack stared at it. The key would work for him -- he knew that much from unknowingly handing the city over to Fontaine. And it would be child's play to rewire the security system -- he'd hacked his way through every part of Rapture, hadn't he? Turned every machine he'd seen to his side? He could rule this place, just like both his "fathers" before him.
But why the hell would I want to? Jack thought, making a face. Emperor of a crumbling, leaky shithole populated almost entirely by lunatics. Yeah, Fontaine, brilliant 'con' there. If I hadn't been here, the Splicers would have gotten you -- and if not them, the ocean. All the leaks I've seen, all the broken windows and busted floors. . .this whole place is just about to cave in on itself.
Which meant he had to get himself and the girls to the bathysphere, and now. He reached out, intending to take the girl's hand and ask her to gather the others so they could leave.
She gasped softly and jerked away, eyes wide with fright. Jack grimaced. Oh -- right. The Little Sisters weren't used to anyone not in a diving suit -- or a severe-looking lady with a weird Russian-German accent he couldn't quite place -- being nice to them. Even if he'd been the one to save them. . .he glanced at the ones still sucking up ADAM from Fontaine's limp, overmuscled corpse. Well -- if anything proved old habits died hard. . . He knelt down before her, offering both his hand and the best smile he could conjure up under the circumstances.
The Sister flinched a little. . .then, slowly, watching his face, relaxed. She held out the key again, silently offering him Rapture.
Jack ignored it entirely, cupping her tiny hand in his. Cripes, it was weird to think that, technically, she was the older one of them. . .ugh, but thinking about his true origins still gave him a hell of a headache. It was creepy, knowing that his entire life, right down to his parents, was nothing more than a lie. A fiction cooked up to help make the perfect assassin. A fairy story told a -- two? Three? he didn't even know -- year old boy with the body of a grown man. He wasn't a Wynand. He wasn't anybody.
On the other hand, damned if I'm going to start calling myself "Jack Ryan" or "Jack Fontaine," he thought, frowning slightly. Shackle myself to those two lunatics? No thanks. Fontaine did one nice thing for me, and that was give me my own last name. My past might be fake, but my future doesn't have to be.
The Sister tilted her head. "You okay, mister?" she asked in a small voice, dark hair flopping over her face.
"I'm -- getting there," Jack decided. He smiled again. "I'm Jack -- Jack Wynand. What's your name?"
The Sister smiled back. "Masha."
The image of two corpses, side by side in a broken bed, flashed before Jack's eyes. He did his best not to wince. It would figure, right? Don't worry, folks -- I'll take better care of her than Ryan did. "Nice to meet you. Can you introduce me to the others?"
I admit, I struggled with what I could write for you, given that I'm not all that familiar with most of your current fandoms. . .and then I remembered that, among your RPing set, there's a Jack muse from BioShock's good ending. And since I have finally started playing those games. . . Have a novelization of said good ending! I liked getting into Jack's head a bit, exploring some of the things he might have been thinking and feeling at the time. And I couldn't resist making that little girl who tries to hand you the key (at least, I'm pretty sure it's the Rapture genetic key -- looks kind of like the thing we take off Ryan's corpse after the big reveal) Masha from those super-sad audio diaries. At least with Good Jack adopting her, she's going to have a better life now.
And that's it from me for now! Gonna go watch some of Sim Supply's "Rags To Riches: EXTREME" sets, and sort through my own Sims 4 screenshots for this week's Wednesday update. (Actually just played the game a bit ago -- didn't get what I intended to done, as the pets were being a bit crazy, but at least I've gotten Scraps to stop barking at Sims and to stop waking them up with said barking. And Alice got a promotion in her Painter career, which was nice!) Hope you're all having a great Monday, everybody! Happy Holidays!
-->Two things of gum
-->A box of Ferreo Rocher (bigger than usual too!)
-->A set of soda-flavored Lip Smackers chapstick (Coca-Cola, Barqs Root Beer, Sprite, and Fanta flavors)
-->A $50 Kohl's gift card (as I could still use some more new clothes)
-->A little address book for my contacts (prefilled with some entries for my parents, aunt, Twins Pizza, and the electrician who put in our dryer for a cheap price)
-->A "Fact or Crap" peel-a-day calendar (I am amused and will use this at work)
-->A two-set of Ghostbusters: Answer The Call minimates, featuring Erin Gilbert and Jillian Holtzmann (I asked for these since I wanted a couple of the girls to fit with the guys -- Erin's helping with the Gozer defeat, while Holtz is walking in on Egon and Janine studying my glow-in-the-dark Slimer)
-->A box of organic microwave popcorn (yes this is a thing) from my Auntie Anne
-->A can of hot chocolate mix from my Auntie Anne (did not specify if it was organic or not)
-->A HydroFlask thermos from my Auntie Ann (it's big and thick and perfect for soup)
Not too shabby, eh? :) Especially combined with my earlier gifts from my coworkers. :)
However, I still need to give a few gifts -- specifically, story gifts! So, for those closest to me, here are your tales!
Moose: Parenthood On Ice
"Here we go! Wheeee!"
Marty laughed as they glided over the ice, legs wobbling but arms held in George's firm grip. "Woooo, yeah!" George said, playfully lifting the three-year-old into the air. "Look at you! Soon you'll be good enough to go professional!"
Marty laughed again and kicked his feet (fortunately, nowhere near George's legs -- George had learned from the last skating trip, which had ended with a trip to the hospital and what he thought was a very overblown bill for a few stitches). Nearby, Linda pouted and tried to tug her hand out of Lorraine's. "I wanna go with Daddy!" she complained. "Why does Marty always get to go with Daddy? It's not fair!"
"You'll get your turn," Lorraine told her, continuing their slow circle around the edges of the lake.
Linda stomped her foot -- an act that almost made her other leg slide out from under her. "I wanna go now!"
George sighed. Oh dear, here they went. Linda had never been all that fond of her little brother's existence, and when she got into one of her jealous moods. . . He scooped Marty into his arms and skated over to them. "Here -- you take him, Lorraine, and I'll take Linda."
Lorraine frowned. "We really shouldn't be rewarding her whining, George," she said in an undertone, even as she accepted the happily-oblivious Marty.
"I know, I know, but. . ." He looked down at the little round face, gazing up at him adoringly. "When it comes to kids, I'm just not very good at -- confrontations."
Lorraine smirked at him. "Oh, he who laid low Biff Tannen, laid low himself by a five-year-old girl."
"Come on, Lorrie, you're not much better than--"
Whump!
Both George and Lorraine's heads snapped right, to where their eldest was now lying sprawled on his back across the ice. "Dave? You all right?"
"Fine!" Dave said, struggling to push himself back up onto his skates. "I'm just fine!"
"You're sure?" George said, skating over.
"Yes!" Dave glared at him. "I don't need any help!"
"Okay, okay. . ." George held up his hands, skating to and fro nearby as Dave fought to get his feet under him. He didn't remember having such an independent streak at seven years old. Then again, Dave was a very different person from him. (Right down to the looks -- Dave had proven to be one of those rare McFly genetic sports that didn't end up with either what George thought of as the 'Seamus' face or the 'Arthur' one, instead resembling an uncle on Lorraine's side of the family. And nobody could pinpoint where he'd gotten such curly hair.) It was fascinating, watching his children grow and change and develop their own personalities. And inspiring -- he'd gotten a lot of mileage out of just how alien toddlers could be.
"Down! Put me down!"
Speaking of which. . . George turned back to his wife, who was setting Marty on the ice. Linda watched with a scowl, clearly believing she'd been forgotten. "Hey, Lindy-Jo!" George called, crouching down and waving to her. "Can you skate all the way over to me?"
Linda instantly brightened and started making her shaky way over to him as Lorraine started leading Marty around the ice. Behind him, George heard Dave grunt in triumph as he finally got back upright. He grinned, feeling a surge of happiness and pride as Linda landed safely in his embrace. Who knew a kiss at a dance and one skating date would lead to all this? One of these days, I really gotta track down Calvin and thank him properly.
Continuing my current theme of "BTTF goes skating," since I feel combining those two is a pretty safe bet. XD Since I've already covered "George and Lorraine go on skating dates," I figured this time I'd do some family fluff. We all like little McFly kidlets, right? ;) Also took the opportunity to point out that BTTF's later fascination with "clone generations" means that Dave now barely looks like a McFly. Poor kid's a genetic sport indeed. We still love you, though, Dave.
Gigs: Simulated Illness
fwoosh, Fwoosh, FWOOOSH
Lisa looked up as a bunch of leaves flew in through the stable door. Descending in front of her house was a familiar giant blue butterfly, beating up dust as it lowered itself carefully to the ground. "Ooops -- looks like we have company," she told Shada, petting his nose. "I'll be back in just a little bit to finish restocking the hay, okay?"
Shada whinnied. Lisa chuckled, gave him one last pat, then went outside to greet her visitor. "Hi Victor! What brings you--"
She stopped as Victor turned toward her. Uh-oh -- judging by that expression, and the corgi cradled against his chest, this wasn't a social call. "I-I'm sorry to just drop in like this," he said, disembarking. "It's just -- when I w-woke up this morning, I realized I h-hadn't heard Lightning barking at the alarm clock. And t-then when I went to see him in his bed. . ." He held out the sad-looking dog, lip quivering. "I know I'm p-probably panicking, it's just. . .we've only had him for a year and. . ."
"I get it, I get it," Lisa assured him. "We all get like that about our pets. You should see some of the other Touched who've blown in here. You're practically subdued." She took Lightning, frowning as the dog basically flopped into her arms. "Hey boy. . .funny not to see you running around at a million miles per hour." She gently scratched behind his ears. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"
My mouth tastes awful, Lightning reported -- indeed, long strings of ugly green drool were hanging from his jaw. And I'm cold. Lost my breakfast too.
Lisa reported this to Victor, who nodded. "Yes, he threw up right before I got him on Ferdy. . .and I thought he was drooling a bit more lately, but I didn't. . .it wasn't green before."
Lisa gently poked Lightning's nose. "Ick -- way wetter than it should be," she said, wrinkling her own. "Well, that confirms it -- poor Lightning's picked up a case of Advanced Swamp Mouth."
"Advanced?" Victor repeated, twisting his tie.
"Don't worry, it's almost never fatal," Lisa quickly reassured him. "And he's not even at the worst stage yet -- that generally requires surgery." She stroked Lightning's head, getting a weak tail wag. "Fortunately, one of my homemade Medicine X biscuits should fix him right up."
"Oh. Good," Victor said, breathing a sigh of relief. He shook his head with a soft chuckle. "Swamp Mouth. . .you know, even after a couple of years in Secundus, I still have trouble believing all the strange diseases in the city. And I've been turned purple a couple of times by that stupid Prismatic Cold. . ." His expression turned curious. "Does that ever happen to animals?"
"Well, Frozen Mange generally makes cats and dogs blue -- though I don't know if that's an actual color change, or just a result of their fur icing up," Lisa said, walking with him over to the house. "And Magmafied Organs -- just a name, I promise -- makes their paws and noses glow bright red." She smirked. "Though I think my favorite is Prismatic Poop Plague."
"Pris -- oh, it doesn't," Victor groaned, pressing a hand against his face.
Lisa giggled. "Yeah -- be grateful you don't have rainbow poop all over your house, is what I'm saying. Though it does make cleaning up after them a lot more fun."
"I'll pass, thanks."
With you, I know using the alt!Secundus!Lisa is generally a good bet. :p I decided I wanted to do something with her actually acting as a vet, and figured Lightning would be a decent patient. And then, while coming up with what illness he could have. . .well, I think you know what recent expansion pack to The Sims 4 I took inspiration from. XD What, those illnesses are more than goofy enough to be a part of Secundus! I chose Swamp Mouth for Lightning more or less at random, after deciding on the "lethargic" symptom. Too bad he couldn't get Gilded Guts Syndrome, eh Victor?
Mad Scientist: Corvo Vacation
"Holy crap. That's a hell of a view."
"I told you so," Alice said, gazing across the wide expanse of ocean. "And that's with the fog. Can you imagine what it would be like without it?"
"I think Victor's got some ideas," Marty commented, glancing at his adopted cousin. Sure enough, Victor had his sketchbook out, and was gamely sketching out as much of the landscape in the other direction as he could see. "I think you're just gonna have to guess at some of it, buddy."
"No, no -- the fog's always moving, so if I just keep watching. . ." Victor scritched away with his pen. "I know it's not going to be perfect, but still. This is -- I have to get it down."
"I'm more intrigued by the drop," Doc admitted, looking down the sheer cliff at the waves crashing against the tiny strip of shore below. "It's almost like someone simply carved part of the island away. For a geologist, it must be fascinating."
"You seem pretty taken for a physicist and engineer," Alice commented, taking a peek herself.
"Well, I've claimed before that I'm a student of all sciences. Though admittedly geology was never one of my fortes. I can tell different rocks apart, but that's about it."
Victor turned to have a look himself, then shook his head and turned away. "It's very impressive, but goodness if it doesn't give me vertigo."
"Vertigo?" Marty gave Victor an incredulous look. "You're six-foot-three."
Victor glanced at him over his shoulder. "And that's. . .somehow supposed to make me immune?"
"The perspective of tall people is not that different from that of short people," Doc told him, ruffling Marty's hair playfully.
"I'm not that short! Come on, Alice, back me up here!"
"I married the tall person -- you should be calling me a height traitor," Alice reminded him, smirking. "Though I will say, Victor, with your climbing skills, your getting vertigo is a bit of a surprise."
"When I'm climbing, I'm usually looking up. And I've never climbed anything this high," Victor added, sneaking another peek at the cliff.
"Do you think you could?" Marty asked, curious.
"I -- probably not? Or at least not without feeling utterly miserable afterward. . . ."
"I wouldn't think so," Doc agreed, frowning at the rock. "We have to be at least fifteen hundred feet above sea level, probably more. Not a good idea to try climbing it all in one go without any special equipment."
"Indeed -- your arms would probably fall off," Alice said. "And I think we all prefer them still attached to you."
"I certainly do," Victor nodded. He gazed appreciatively out across the caldera again, then hugged himself. "Lovely as it is out here, it's getting a touch chilly."
"Wind's picking up," Doc said in explanation. "I could calm it down?"
"No, that's all right," Victor said, making sure his sketch was dry before flipping his book closed. "We should probably head inside for a bit -- check on Dee."
"Mmm," Alice agreed, helping Victor to his feet. "I hope she hasn't been giving Mrs. Dent too much trouble."
Marty snorted. "Gilda Dent? Alice, this is the lady who killed pretty much every major mobster in Gotham over a year and never got freakin' caught. She even snuck out of the hospital to off some of them. I don't think a DeLorean that likes to be a little girl is gonna give her much grief."
". . .I have got to start reading some of these comics."
Figured I'd do something related to your new world that's being built up, now that Alice has actually gotten a chance to visit the island! I was originally going to do my first "beach party" idea, but when I read up some more on Corvo Island and realized that it doesn't seem to ever get THAT hot, I decided instead to have them admiring some of the striking natural scenery. I look at some aerial pics online, and those cliffs ARE something else. And anything that allows me to reference just how badass Gilda Dent is is good with me. XD
Ael: What I Expect Of You
Well, Atlas -- now you know what it's like to be on the other side of a revolution.
Jack carefully extracted himself from the Rosie suit, tossing the helmet aside with a CLANG. How those Big Daddies had been able to see him well enough to keep shooting him full of holes was beyond him. . .well, hopefully he'd never have to tussle with one again. How many Little Sisters had he managed to free? He frowned, adding up in his head. Two in Steinman's lair, three over in Fort Frolic, two in the apartments. . .about twenty-one, all told? Yeah, he was pretty sure that was right. . . Hopefully they were the last ones.
Movement to his right caught his attention. The Sisters were still flocking all over Fontaine's body -- a few extracting ADAM with their needles, following old conditioning; others jumping up and down and clapping. "The bad man's an angel now!" one announced to her sisters.
"Mr. Bubbles kicked his butt!" another agreed.
A third nodded -- then noticed him watching them from the floor. Slowly, she turned toward him and tottered over, something golden clutched in her hand. Jack pushed himself off the floor and stood up to see -- ah. Good old Ryan's genetic key. Lifeblood of Rapture. With a nervous look, she held it out to him.
Jack stared at it. The key would work for him -- he knew that much from unknowingly handing the city over to Fontaine. And it would be child's play to rewire the security system -- he'd hacked his way through every part of Rapture, hadn't he? Turned every machine he'd seen to his side? He could rule this place, just like both his "fathers" before him.
But why the hell would I want to? Jack thought, making a face. Emperor of a crumbling, leaky shithole populated almost entirely by lunatics. Yeah, Fontaine, brilliant 'con' there. If I hadn't been here, the Splicers would have gotten you -- and if not them, the ocean. All the leaks I've seen, all the broken windows and busted floors. . .this whole place is just about to cave in on itself.
Which meant he had to get himself and the girls to the bathysphere, and now. He reached out, intending to take the girl's hand and ask her to gather the others so they could leave.
She gasped softly and jerked away, eyes wide with fright. Jack grimaced. Oh -- right. The Little Sisters weren't used to anyone not in a diving suit -- or a severe-looking lady with a weird Russian-German accent he couldn't quite place -- being nice to them. Even if he'd been the one to save them. . .he glanced at the ones still sucking up ADAM from Fontaine's limp, overmuscled corpse. Well -- if anything proved old habits died hard. . . He knelt down before her, offering both his hand and the best smile he could conjure up under the circumstances.
The Sister flinched a little. . .then, slowly, watching his face, relaxed. She held out the key again, silently offering him Rapture.
Jack ignored it entirely, cupping her tiny hand in his. Cripes, it was weird to think that, technically, she was the older one of them. . .ugh, but thinking about his true origins still gave him a hell of a headache. It was creepy, knowing that his entire life, right down to his parents, was nothing more than a lie. A fiction cooked up to help make the perfect assassin. A fairy story told a -- two? Three? he didn't even know -- year old boy with the body of a grown man. He wasn't a Wynand. He wasn't anybody.
On the other hand, damned if I'm going to start calling myself "Jack Ryan" or "Jack Fontaine," he thought, frowning slightly. Shackle myself to those two lunatics? No thanks. Fontaine did one nice thing for me, and that was give me my own last name. My past might be fake, but my future doesn't have to be.
The Sister tilted her head. "You okay, mister?" she asked in a small voice, dark hair flopping over her face.
"I'm -- getting there," Jack decided. He smiled again. "I'm Jack -- Jack Wynand. What's your name?"
The Sister smiled back. "Masha."
The image of two corpses, side by side in a broken bed, flashed before Jack's eyes. He did his best not to wince. It would figure, right? Don't worry, folks -- I'll take better care of her than Ryan did. "Nice to meet you. Can you introduce me to the others?"
I admit, I struggled with what I could write for you, given that I'm not all that familiar with most of your current fandoms. . .and then I remembered that, among your RPing set, there's a Jack muse from BioShock's good ending. And since I have finally started playing those games. . . Have a novelization of said good ending! I liked getting into Jack's head a bit, exploring some of the things he might have been thinking and feeling at the time. And I couldn't resist making that little girl who tries to hand you the key (at least, I'm pretty sure it's the Rapture genetic key -- looks kind of like the thing we take off Ryan's corpse after the big reveal) Masha from those super-sad audio diaries. At least with Good Jack adopting her, she's going to have a better life now.
And that's it from me for now! Gonna go watch some of Sim Supply's "Rags To Riches: EXTREME" sets, and sort through my own Sims 4 screenshots for this week's Wednesday update. (Actually just played the game a bit ago -- didn't get what I intended to done, as the pets were being a bit crazy, but at least I've gotten Scraps to stop barking at Sims and to stop waking them up with said barking. And Alice got a promotion in her Painter career, which was nice!) Hope you're all having a great Monday, everybody! Happy Holidays!
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Date: 2017-12-26 01:49 am (UTC)"Don't worry, it's almost never fatal," Lisai quickly reassured him.
...and I feel SO BAD I haven't been able to get anything written for you in years. I was hoping to do some tomorrow since I'm off but I have to adult (read: clean the kitchen) and then I'm working Wednesday through Friday. I'd say maybe around New Years but I won't make promises I can't keep.
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Date: 2017-12-26 03:47 am (UTC)It's okay -- I understand needing to adult. Adulting is why I don't have Saturday mornings free anymore (gotta make sure my room never turns into a dust disaster area again). You take care of the important stuff first, and I'll take the fanfic whenever it comes. *pats*
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Date: 2017-12-27 12:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-12-27 03:30 am (UTC)