Merry Christmas To All!
Dec. 25th, 2009 04:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crossover_chickOf course, God knows how many of you are actually online, so. . . :p I've been having a nice Christmas overall. Woke up late, watched "A Christmas Story" with the folks (we have it on DVD, so no commercials for us!), and played "Monopoly Deal," since Mom wanted to play a game and that's all CVS had, apparently. It's a bit tricky to figure out, but eventually we got it. Dad won two games in a row. :p
As for my haul (counting presents I opened yesterday):
-->Ghostbuster Minimates (Ray/Winston/Gozer/Stay-Puft pack)
-->New, really soft purple bathrobe
-->Frosty the Snowman-themed pajama pants
-->Four sets of soft socks in varying shades of purple (two from my aunt and uncle, two from my parents)
-->A squeezy Wulfenbach Airship with included Girl Genius postcard picture
-->New brown corduroys with a belt
-->New sweatpants
-->A homemade Corpse Bride shirt (my Mom made it with that iron-on photo paper stuff, the picture is Victor with a butterfly)
-->Two new purple pillowcases with iron-ons -- one with another copy of the Victor picture, the other with an American McGee's Alice picture
-->Big 40-piece canister of Icebreakers Gum
-->2-pack of Icebreakers mints
-->A pack of pens
-->3 new notebooks
-->New headphones for my MP3 player (they clip over your ears -- my earbud ones just keep falling out)
-->Reaper Man from the Discworld series (incidentally, I'm almost done with Eric -- it's been a fun ride :D)
-->New slippers, though these I can't use yet -- turns out the medium was too small, so they've got to exchange them for a large.
Not too shabby a haul -- my favorite bits are the airship, minimates, and the T-shirt. Though the bathrobe's definitely nice too. :D
As for gifts to give, here's some Christmas fic for my favorite girls:
Ael: Turret Trouble
“A package?”
The Western Union man nodded, electronic clipboard held out in front of him. “Sent express,” he said, tapping the large box sitting on the desk. “Apparently somebody wanted to make sure you got this in a hurry, sir. Could you just sign here please?”
The head of the packaging design branch of Sierra Games frowned, then shrugged and signed. He certainly hadn’t been expecting any packages today. There was nothing coming from the head office, he knew that much. Perhaps it was a personal matter – except that, if that was the case, wouldn’t the sender have sent it to his house instead? “Who sent it, do you know?”
“The address says it comes from some place in Rhode Island,” the WU man shrugged.
“Rhode Island? Isn’t that part of New York?”
“You’re thinking of Long Island, sir. Rhode Island’s a state on its own.”
“Oh, right.” The packaging design expert looked over the box again. It towered over him from its place on the desk. It was rather unnerving, honestly. “You mind putting this on the floor before you go?”
“Not at all, sir.” The WU guy managed to pick up the box with a grunt, and quickly plopped it on the floor. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s about it. Thanks a lot.”
“Anytime.” The WU left, leaving the packaging design guy to look over the box again. The label on the front said it was indeed from Rhode Island. He didn’t know anyone in Rhode Island. What was Rhode Island sending him a package for? And such a big one too. . . .
Maybe it’s a bomb, a little voice whispered in the back of his head. Maybe somebody wants you dead. There’s plenty of disgruntled Space Quest and King’s Quest fans out there.
The packaging design guy shook his head and laughed. “Oh, get serious,” he scolded himself, finding a flap on the front of the box and pulling it open. “Who the hell would send a bomb to me in the mail?”
“We dunno – same girl who sent you a pair of annoyed Portal turrets?”
Two minutes of heavy fire later, the packaging design guy was lying in a rather large pool of his own blood. Steve and Gary activated their internal modems. Vic? Tell Ael that the guy who basically hid her Half-Life key from her has been taken care of.
Great, glad to hear it. We’ll pick you up as soon as we can. Thanks for doing this.
Hey, no problem. We’ve played a hacked version of Space Quest – you know how annoying it is to die because of one forgotten item?!
I was stuck for a while with you, I admit. Then we had that conversation the other day, and when you mentioned Half-Life, I thought, "Maybe I could write Portal fic?" I was messing around with something like that when that incident with the key came up:
vampdocette: How have you been?
EnigmaSphinx42: Trying to find some way to recover the CD key for my legit copy of Half-Life (the first one) - bought it at Goodwill for dirt cheap but it didn't come with a registry key, so I can't hook it into Steam
vampdocette: Aww, I see, that sucks
EnigmaSphinx42: Graaaaar, nothing works
vampdocette: :-( *patpat*
EnigmaSphinx42: *muttergrumble*
vampdocette: Poor Ael
EnigmaSphinx42: Yep, it looks like I'm screwed.
vampdocette: *patpat* Too bad :-(
vampdocette: supper, bbs
vampdocette: *is back*
EnigmaSphinx42: wubs
vampdocette: tanku
EnigmaSphinx42: Now I don't know what to do. Stupid Half-Life CD thing.
vampdocette: It's sucky, yeah
EnigmaSphinx42: ...
EnigmaSphinx42: You've gotta be shitting me.
vampdocette: what?
EnigmaSphinx42: Okay, so the case it came in?
vampdocette: yesum?
EnigmaSphinx42: The back cover is all about King's Quest. So I figured it was put in the wrong case or something, and that the code there was for King's Quest.
EnigmaSphinx42: So I opened up the inside bit of the case to see if maybe the real one is behind it. It wasn't. BUT.
EnigmaSphinx42: The bits on the end that say Half-Life? Are ATTACHED.
EnigmaSphinx42: Which means IT'S THE FUCKING KEY
vampdocette: Figures, huh?!
EnigmaSphinx42: No kidding!
EnigmaSphinx42: Thanks, Sierra, you FUCKERS
vampdocette: Evil case! Evil!
EnigmaSphinx42: I've had this game in my possession for MONTHS NOW AND NEVER NOTICED
vampdocette: Sierra is the fucker company, from everything I've heard
vampdocette: Oh man
EnigmaSphinx42: Now I want to murder things
vampdocette: I'm not surprised
EnigmaSphinx42: Oh look! Steam accepted the product activation!
vampdocette: yay
EnigmaSphinx42: All those hours and hours of Googling were for NO REASON
vampdocette: Yeowch
So, yeah, I figured some revenge fic might be a good idea. I'm sure you all can guess that the people delivering said revenge are Steve and Gary, my humorous Portal turrets from "A Day In The Life Of A Turret."
Moose: Because They’re Brothers
The instant they finally arrived home, Percy retreated straight to his old room. He ignored his mother’s protests, his father’s sad looks. They didn’t actually mean it. None of them wanted to see him, he was sure. He was the one who had betrayed the family. He was the one who had left.
He was the one who had survived.
He locked the door behind him and sat down on his bed. The room was as neat and tidy as he’d left it – a little dusty, but that was only to be expected. Sitting beside the bed on the night table was a family photograph he’d left behind – all of them in Egypt, waving happily at the camera. Percy looked it for a moment, then turned it so it was facing downward. He couldn’t stand seeing them all smiling.
Seeing Fred smiling.
It’s all my fault, he thought miserably, leaning hard on his knees. If I hadn’t come in when I had – if I hadn’t distracted him by making that – that horrible joke, he might have – Damn it, he was a pain in the arse sometimes, we never really got along, but – but I never –
He was my brother, damn it.
There was a knock at the door. Startled, Percy looked up, then cautiously answered it. His heart plummeted when he saw who was standing there.
George.
He looked terrible – skin a bit of a pasty color, bags under the eyes, and that grin Percy had thought was damn near permanent gone. He stared at his older brother with pain-filled eyes. Percy grimaced, then braced himself for the punch he knew was coming. He deserved it, he’d taken Fred away from him –
George suddenly grabbed his brother in a hug so tight it nearly knocked Percy’s glasses off. Percy started, then went stiff, confused. “What--” he choked out.
“You prat,” George muttered. “We don’t need you holing yourself away again. I’m not losing another member of this family.”
Percy just stood there for a moment longer. Then, slowly, he hugged George back, squeezing just as tight. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, feeling the tears start anew.
George pulled back to give him a grin – a small, very melancholy grin, but a grin just the same. “Well – at least he died knowing you did have a sense of humor.”
Percy found himself smiling back. “Tiny one,” he nodded. Then he pulled George into another hug. Yes, he’d lost one brother.
But, maybe, he’d regained another.
Moose's was easy -- I'd had the idea on my own a little while ago, and since I knew Percy was Mooses's favorite character, I decided to write up as her Christmas fic. It's kind of on the sad side, I'm afraid, but I hope you like it anyway. Poor Weasleys. . . .
Gigs: You Would Not Believe Your Eyes
“Victor? Where are you?”
Clockwork walked around the house, frowning as he scanned the horizon. “Victor!” he called again. “Great Scott, how on earth did I lose track of this kid. . . .”
He noticed a familiar sight tucked up against the wall nearby. Grinning a little, he went over and gave the TARDIS a friendly pat. “Hello, girl,” he said warmly. “Don’t suppose you could tell me where the hell my friend’s gone.”
“Unfortunately, she can’t morph into a person like Dee can,” Alien Lisa replied, appearing behind him and causing him to jump. A brief wind blew past them, ruffling AL’s feathers and Doc’s hair. “Though now I’m wondering what she’d look like as a human.”
“Actually, I met a human TARDIS in the Nexus once – that one was a young adult woman, with long, somewhat curly black hair,” Doc tells her. “And back when I was in Chicago, I had some interaction with a regular TARDIS that spoke a sort of pidgin English. Both rather interesting.” He patted the TARDIS again. “On a different note, you haven’t seen Victor, have you?”
“Actually, yeah, I have, about a half-hour ago,” AL said. “We were talking a little about the native wildlife here on Alnilam – mostly the insects.”
“Not surprised,” Doc said with a small smile. “I think that, if his parents had allowed him to follow his real passions, he might have ended up a very well-known entomologist. He’s practically obsessed with things like bees and butterflies.”
“I’ve noticed,” AL deadpanned. “Anyway, I was telling him we have all sorts of different species of butterflies over here, and he asked to see them, so I took him and his sketchbook to the meadow and – why are you shaking your head?”
“Answer me this, first: How many butterflies?”
“Uh – I don’t know. They come in a lot of different colors, I know that much. Why?”
Doc sighed deeply. “I’m just wondering if it’s going to take an act of God to pull Victor out of your meadow. I wasn’t joking when I said practically obsessed. If he’s got his sketchbook around that many new specimens. . . . Our only hope may be his ink running out.”
AL looked half-annoyed, half-amused. “So, what do you want to do?”
“Well, I suppose we can leave him out there for now, we’re not in a rush to get back to the Inkwell. After another hour or so, though. . . .” Doc looked thoughtful. “If we can’t get him to come back on his own, I’ll call in the heavy artillery, so to speak.”
“What? Tie him up with rope? Blow him away with one of your winds?”
“Get his girlfriend over here.”
“Ooooh.. . .”
Yeah, I'm sure Gigs can remember what inspired this. XD She made a post about how the song "Fireflies" reminded her of Victor, then mentioned we ought to get him (well, Inkwell!Him) on Alnilam at some point to see all its butterflies. That seemed a bit short for a proper story, so I threw in the bit about Doc and his interactions with various TARDISes. He's probably more used to machines talking like people than not, now. You can interpret "get his girlfriend" however you like, though I think there's a chance Alice would just JOIN Victor on the bug-hunt. Also, the title's the first line from the song -- I wanted to use one of the lyrics, but couldn't figure out which one best fit.
Ally: Naughty Thoughts
“Vic, we need your opinion on what the hell is that?!”
Vic jerked her head up from the site she’d been looking at. NonTrilogy Doc was standing behind her, eyes wide as he stared at her computer monitor. “Um – I think it’s called FetLife,” she said, unable to keep from blushing a little. “You think it gets mixed up a lot with the insurance company?”
“What in the name of Sir Isaac H. – actually, no, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.” Doc facepalmed, blushing pretty brightly himself. “Great Scott, Vic, it’s disturbing enough when you look this sort of thing up on Wikipedia! We really don’t need to see that!”
“Hey, don’t blame me for this,” Vic said, frowning. “You walked in on me. And I was just looking at it out of curiosity. Ally provided the link on her LJ.”
Doc looked up, eyes wide again. “What – Ally??”
“Yeah. . . .”
“The one with the alternate version of me and a version of Ichabod Crane? The one who loves ‘Adventures in Wonderland?’”
“Yeah! What, she’s not allowed to be into this stuff? I mean, she does have an Alex from A Clockwork Orange around too.”
“No, no, it’s just – never mind.” Doc turned and walked out, shaking his head.
Vic did the same as she turned back to her monitor. “Muses. . . .”
Two Days Later
“Ally?”
“Hmm?”
“Is there something you want to tell us?”
Ally looked up from her writing, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, we just got a fruit basket from Vic’s muses,” Hatter said, holding up said item. “Along with a card saying, ‘We’re sorry, we didn’t know anyone had it as bad as we did.’”
“The hell? I don’t--”
Realization dawned, along with a reddish tint on Ally’s cheeks. “Oooh, maybe that’s it.”
“Huh?”
“Let me put it this way – there’s a link on my LJ you probably shouldn’t look at.”
Again, Ally can probably tell which of her LJ entries inspired this one. XD I couldn't help myself -- after clicking on the contest link, all I could think of was my muses going, "Oh, God, someone's enabling her?" And this resulted. It's all in good fun. Poor Hatter gets to be the one to get the fruit basket since "Adventures In Wonderland" appears to be her strongest fandom at the moment.
Tracey: Please Call Again
“Candace, do you really think this is a good idea?”
Candace looked over at her friends, smiling in what she hoped was her most reassuring way. “Yes, I do. This poor spirit is obviously quite tormented. I think we can help her.”
“Yeah, but – I’ve heard this ghost attacks people sometimes,” Marty said, glancing around and fidgeting, obviously rather ill at ease. “You’re sure you’re not going to make her mad?”
“Marty, trust me. I promise, I’m not going to let anyone come to harm here. If this doesn’t work, the car is right there. She leaves people alone once they do the same for her.”
Doc leaned against the side of the bridge, watching the scene with a mildly-skeptical eye. “What if she doesn’t appear at all? Is there any guaranteed method of dealing with a spirit like this? Any particular variables we should know about?”
“It’s not exactly a science experiment, Dr. Brown.”
“I’m aware, but it’s easier for me to process if I think about it like that.”
Candace chuckled. “All right then. There’s really no hard and fast rules. You two can just stay back and let me do all the talking.”
“I’m cool with that,” Marty nodded, taking a spot beside Doc.
“You are the most experienced among us with this sort of thing,” Doc agreed. “Go ahead. I’m eager to see the results.”
Candace smiled at them again, then turned toward the bridge. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, toward the spot where, over a century ago, a young woman had died after being spurned by her lover. “Emily? Are you there?”
For a moment, there was no response. Then, suddenly, Candace was temporarily engulfed by a swarm of bright blue butterflies. Puzzled, she took a step back. She hadn’t heard anything about butterflies from the others who had visited this bridge. . . .
The butterflies gathered at a central spot on the bride, forming a tight group. After a moment, they began to change, molding together to form the figure of a young woman with long bluish hair, wearing a rotting wedding dress. She tilted her head at Candace, looking confused. “How’d you know my name?”
Candace was lost for words. Nothing she’d read about Emily had mentioned her wearing a wedding dress. Nor had it mentioned she would be blue, and look half-rotted, with one skeletal arm and leg. And there was something rather important missing – the rope around her neck. She’d died from hanging – hadn’t she? This manifestation looked like it had been stabbed, or possibly hit over the head. . . .
Emily suddenly looked rather embarrassed. “Oh, wait – you want the other girl, don’t you? I’m sorry, it’s just when I hear my name. . . . Excuse me, I’ll let her know she’s wanted.” She dissolved back into butterflies, darting under the bridge.
Candace turned back to Marty and Doc, who were staring at her with wide, confused eyes. Still in shock, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind – “I didn’t even know you could get a wrong number!”
Would you believe I only wrote this one YESTERDAY? I was completely stuck, I'm ashamed to admit. I had no idea what to write, so in desperation I visited Tracey's old BTTF fanfic page, hoping to find some inspiration for a BTTF fanfic I could write her. And while there, I happened to stumble across her old "Haunted Time" sequel, the one that would have involved Emily's Bridge.
I'm sure you all realize who I immediately thought of when I saw "Emily." Research showed the two apparently had somewhat similar backstories (both eloped to get away from their unconsenting fathers, both died as a result -- though Emily of the bridge hung herself after her lover failed to show, rather than being murdered), and I couldn't help myself. I hope you at least find it amusing, Tracey -- I'm just glad I was able to come up with something.
So Ho Ho Ho, and a Merry Christmas to you all!
As for my haul (counting presents I opened yesterday):
-->Ghostbuster Minimates (Ray/Winston/Gozer/Stay-Puft pack)
-->New, really soft purple bathrobe
-->Frosty the Snowman-themed pajama pants
-->Four sets of soft socks in varying shades of purple (two from my aunt and uncle, two from my parents)
-->A squeezy Wulfenbach Airship with included Girl Genius postcard picture
-->New brown corduroys with a belt
-->New sweatpants
-->A homemade Corpse Bride shirt (my Mom made it with that iron-on photo paper stuff, the picture is Victor with a butterfly)
-->Two new purple pillowcases with iron-ons -- one with another copy of the Victor picture, the other with an American McGee's Alice picture
-->Big 40-piece canister of Icebreakers Gum
-->2-pack of Icebreakers mints
-->A pack of pens
-->3 new notebooks
-->New headphones for my MP3 player (they clip over your ears -- my earbud ones just keep falling out)
-->Reaper Man from the Discworld series (incidentally, I'm almost done with Eric -- it's been a fun ride :D)
-->New slippers, though these I can't use yet -- turns out the medium was too small, so they've got to exchange them for a large.
Not too shabby a haul -- my favorite bits are the airship, minimates, and the T-shirt. Though the bathrobe's definitely nice too. :D
As for gifts to give, here's some Christmas fic for my favorite girls:
Ael: Turret Trouble
“A package?”
The Western Union man nodded, electronic clipboard held out in front of him. “Sent express,” he said, tapping the large box sitting on the desk. “Apparently somebody wanted to make sure you got this in a hurry, sir. Could you just sign here please?”
The head of the packaging design branch of Sierra Games frowned, then shrugged and signed. He certainly hadn’t been expecting any packages today. There was nothing coming from the head office, he knew that much. Perhaps it was a personal matter – except that, if that was the case, wouldn’t the sender have sent it to his house instead? “Who sent it, do you know?”
“The address says it comes from some place in Rhode Island,” the WU man shrugged.
“Rhode Island? Isn’t that part of New York?”
“You’re thinking of Long Island, sir. Rhode Island’s a state on its own.”
“Oh, right.” The packaging design expert looked over the box again. It towered over him from its place on the desk. It was rather unnerving, honestly. “You mind putting this on the floor before you go?”
“Not at all, sir.” The WU guy managed to pick up the box with a grunt, and quickly plopped it on the floor. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s about it. Thanks a lot.”
“Anytime.” The WU left, leaving the packaging design guy to look over the box again. The label on the front said it was indeed from Rhode Island. He didn’t know anyone in Rhode Island. What was Rhode Island sending him a package for? And such a big one too. . . .
Maybe it’s a bomb, a little voice whispered in the back of his head. Maybe somebody wants you dead. There’s plenty of disgruntled Space Quest and King’s Quest fans out there.
The packaging design guy shook his head and laughed. “Oh, get serious,” he scolded himself, finding a flap on the front of the box and pulling it open. “Who the hell would send a bomb to me in the mail?”
“We dunno – same girl who sent you a pair of annoyed Portal turrets?”
Two minutes of heavy fire later, the packaging design guy was lying in a rather large pool of his own blood. Steve and Gary activated their internal modems. Vic? Tell Ael that the guy who basically hid her Half-Life key from her has been taken care of.
Great, glad to hear it. We’ll pick you up as soon as we can. Thanks for doing this.
Hey, no problem. We’ve played a hacked version of Space Quest – you know how annoying it is to die because of one forgotten item?!
I was stuck for a while with you, I admit. Then we had that conversation the other day, and when you mentioned Half-Life, I thought, "Maybe I could write Portal fic?" I was messing around with something like that when that incident with the key came up:
vampdocette: How have you been?
EnigmaSphinx42: Trying to find some way to recover the CD key for my legit copy of Half-Life (the first one) - bought it at Goodwill for dirt cheap but it didn't come with a registry key, so I can't hook it into Steam
vampdocette: Aww, I see, that sucks
EnigmaSphinx42: Graaaaar, nothing works
vampdocette: :-( *patpat*
EnigmaSphinx42: *muttergrumble*
vampdocette: Poor Ael
EnigmaSphinx42: Yep, it looks like I'm screwed.
vampdocette: *patpat* Too bad :-(
vampdocette: supper, bbs
vampdocette: *is back*
EnigmaSphinx42: wubs
vampdocette: tanku
EnigmaSphinx42: Now I don't know what to do. Stupid Half-Life CD thing.
vampdocette: It's sucky, yeah
EnigmaSphinx42: ...
EnigmaSphinx42: You've gotta be shitting me.
vampdocette: what?
EnigmaSphinx42: Okay, so the case it came in?
vampdocette: yesum?
EnigmaSphinx42: The back cover is all about King's Quest. So I figured it was put in the wrong case or something, and that the code there was for King's Quest.
EnigmaSphinx42: So I opened up the inside bit of the case to see if maybe the real one is behind it. It wasn't. BUT.
EnigmaSphinx42: The bits on the end that say Half-Life? Are ATTACHED.
EnigmaSphinx42: Which means IT'S THE FUCKING KEY
vampdocette: Figures, huh?!
EnigmaSphinx42: No kidding!
EnigmaSphinx42: Thanks, Sierra, you FUCKERS
vampdocette: Evil case! Evil!
EnigmaSphinx42: I've had this game in my possession for MONTHS NOW AND NEVER NOTICED
vampdocette: Sierra is the fucker company, from everything I've heard
vampdocette: Oh man
EnigmaSphinx42: Now I want to murder things
vampdocette: I'm not surprised
EnigmaSphinx42: Oh look! Steam accepted the product activation!
vampdocette: yay
EnigmaSphinx42: All those hours and hours of Googling were for NO REASON
vampdocette: Yeowch
So, yeah, I figured some revenge fic might be a good idea. I'm sure you all can guess that the people delivering said revenge are Steve and Gary, my humorous Portal turrets from "A Day In The Life Of A Turret."
Moose: Because They’re Brothers
The instant they finally arrived home, Percy retreated straight to his old room. He ignored his mother’s protests, his father’s sad looks. They didn’t actually mean it. None of them wanted to see him, he was sure. He was the one who had betrayed the family. He was the one who had left.
He was the one who had survived.
He locked the door behind him and sat down on his bed. The room was as neat and tidy as he’d left it – a little dusty, but that was only to be expected. Sitting beside the bed on the night table was a family photograph he’d left behind – all of them in Egypt, waving happily at the camera. Percy looked it for a moment, then turned it so it was facing downward. He couldn’t stand seeing them all smiling.
Seeing Fred smiling.
It’s all my fault, he thought miserably, leaning hard on his knees. If I hadn’t come in when I had – if I hadn’t distracted him by making that – that horrible joke, he might have – Damn it, he was a pain in the arse sometimes, we never really got along, but – but I never –
He was my brother, damn it.
There was a knock at the door. Startled, Percy looked up, then cautiously answered it. His heart plummeted when he saw who was standing there.
George.
He looked terrible – skin a bit of a pasty color, bags under the eyes, and that grin Percy had thought was damn near permanent gone. He stared at his older brother with pain-filled eyes. Percy grimaced, then braced himself for the punch he knew was coming. He deserved it, he’d taken Fred away from him –
George suddenly grabbed his brother in a hug so tight it nearly knocked Percy’s glasses off. Percy started, then went stiff, confused. “What--” he choked out.
“You prat,” George muttered. “We don’t need you holing yourself away again. I’m not losing another member of this family.”
Percy just stood there for a moment longer. Then, slowly, he hugged George back, squeezing just as tight. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, feeling the tears start anew.
George pulled back to give him a grin – a small, very melancholy grin, but a grin just the same. “Well – at least he died knowing you did have a sense of humor.”
Percy found himself smiling back. “Tiny one,” he nodded. Then he pulled George into another hug. Yes, he’d lost one brother.
But, maybe, he’d regained another.
Moose's was easy -- I'd had the idea on my own a little while ago, and since I knew Percy was Mooses's favorite character, I decided to write up as her Christmas fic. It's kind of on the sad side, I'm afraid, but I hope you like it anyway. Poor Weasleys. . . .
Gigs: You Would Not Believe Your Eyes
“Victor? Where are you?”
Clockwork walked around the house, frowning as he scanned the horizon. “Victor!” he called again. “Great Scott, how on earth did I lose track of this kid. . . .”
He noticed a familiar sight tucked up against the wall nearby. Grinning a little, he went over and gave the TARDIS a friendly pat. “Hello, girl,” he said warmly. “Don’t suppose you could tell me where the hell my friend’s gone.”
“Unfortunately, she can’t morph into a person like Dee can,” Alien Lisa replied, appearing behind him and causing him to jump. A brief wind blew past them, ruffling AL’s feathers and Doc’s hair. “Though now I’m wondering what she’d look like as a human.”
“Actually, I met a human TARDIS in the Nexus once – that one was a young adult woman, with long, somewhat curly black hair,” Doc tells her. “And back when I was in Chicago, I had some interaction with a regular TARDIS that spoke a sort of pidgin English. Both rather interesting.” He patted the TARDIS again. “On a different note, you haven’t seen Victor, have you?”
“Actually, yeah, I have, about a half-hour ago,” AL said. “We were talking a little about the native wildlife here on Alnilam – mostly the insects.”
“Not surprised,” Doc said with a small smile. “I think that, if his parents had allowed him to follow his real passions, he might have ended up a very well-known entomologist. He’s practically obsessed with things like bees and butterflies.”
“I’ve noticed,” AL deadpanned. “Anyway, I was telling him we have all sorts of different species of butterflies over here, and he asked to see them, so I took him and his sketchbook to the meadow and – why are you shaking your head?”
“Answer me this, first: How many butterflies?”
“Uh – I don’t know. They come in a lot of different colors, I know that much. Why?”
Doc sighed deeply. “I’m just wondering if it’s going to take an act of God to pull Victor out of your meadow. I wasn’t joking when I said practically obsessed. If he’s got his sketchbook around that many new specimens. . . . Our only hope may be his ink running out.”
AL looked half-annoyed, half-amused. “So, what do you want to do?”
“Well, I suppose we can leave him out there for now, we’re not in a rush to get back to the Inkwell. After another hour or so, though. . . .” Doc looked thoughtful. “If we can’t get him to come back on his own, I’ll call in the heavy artillery, so to speak.”
“What? Tie him up with rope? Blow him away with one of your winds?”
“Get his girlfriend over here.”
“Ooooh.. . .”
Yeah, I'm sure Gigs can remember what inspired this. XD She made a post about how the song "Fireflies" reminded her of Victor, then mentioned we ought to get him (well, Inkwell!Him) on Alnilam at some point to see all its butterflies. That seemed a bit short for a proper story, so I threw in the bit about Doc and his interactions with various TARDISes. He's probably more used to machines talking like people than not, now. You can interpret "get his girlfriend" however you like, though I think there's a chance Alice would just JOIN Victor on the bug-hunt. Also, the title's the first line from the song -- I wanted to use one of the lyrics, but couldn't figure out which one best fit.
Ally: Naughty Thoughts
“Vic, we need your opinion on what the hell is that?!”
Vic jerked her head up from the site she’d been looking at. NonTrilogy Doc was standing behind her, eyes wide as he stared at her computer monitor. “Um – I think it’s called FetLife,” she said, unable to keep from blushing a little. “You think it gets mixed up a lot with the insurance company?”
“What in the name of Sir Isaac H. – actually, no, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.” Doc facepalmed, blushing pretty brightly himself. “Great Scott, Vic, it’s disturbing enough when you look this sort of thing up on Wikipedia! We really don’t need to see that!”
“Hey, don’t blame me for this,” Vic said, frowning. “You walked in on me. And I was just looking at it out of curiosity. Ally provided the link on her LJ.”
Doc looked up, eyes wide again. “What – Ally??”
“Yeah. . . .”
“The one with the alternate version of me and a version of Ichabod Crane? The one who loves ‘Adventures in Wonderland?’”
“Yeah! What, she’s not allowed to be into this stuff? I mean, she does have an Alex from A Clockwork Orange around too.”
“No, no, it’s just – never mind.” Doc turned and walked out, shaking his head.
Vic did the same as she turned back to her monitor. “Muses. . . .”
Two Days Later
“Ally?”
“Hmm?”
“Is there something you want to tell us?”
Ally looked up from her writing, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, we just got a fruit basket from Vic’s muses,” Hatter said, holding up said item. “Along with a card saying, ‘We’re sorry, we didn’t know anyone had it as bad as we did.’”
“The hell? I don’t--”
Realization dawned, along with a reddish tint on Ally’s cheeks. “Oooh, maybe that’s it.”
“Huh?”
“Let me put it this way – there’s a link on my LJ you probably shouldn’t look at.”
Again, Ally can probably tell which of her LJ entries inspired this one. XD I couldn't help myself -- after clicking on the contest link, all I could think of was my muses going, "Oh, God, someone's enabling her?" And this resulted. It's all in good fun. Poor Hatter gets to be the one to get the fruit basket since "Adventures In Wonderland" appears to be her strongest fandom at the moment.
Tracey: Please Call Again
“Candace, do you really think this is a good idea?”
Candace looked over at her friends, smiling in what she hoped was her most reassuring way. “Yes, I do. This poor spirit is obviously quite tormented. I think we can help her.”
“Yeah, but – I’ve heard this ghost attacks people sometimes,” Marty said, glancing around and fidgeting, obviously rather ill at ease. “You’re sure you’re not going to make her mad?”
“Marty, trust me. I promise, I’m not going to let anyone come to harm here. If this doesn’t work, the car is right there. She leaves people alone once they do the same for her.”
Doc leaned against the side of the bridge, watching the scene with a mildly-skeptical eye. “What if she doesn’t appear at all? Is there any guaranteed method of dealing with a spirit like this? Any particular variables we should know about?”
“It’s not exactly a science experiment, Dr. Brown.”
“I’m aware, but it’s easier for me to process if I think about it like that.”
Candace chuckled. “All right then. There’s really no hard and fast rules. You two can just stay back and let me do all the talking.”
“I’m cool with that,” Marty nodded, taking a spot beside Doc.
“You are the most experienced among us with this sort of thing,” Doc agreed. “Go ahead. I’m eager to see the results.”
Candace smiled at them again, then turned toward the bridge. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, toward the spot where, over a century ago, a young woman had died after being spurned by her lover. “Emily? Are you there?”
For a moment, there was no response. Then, suddenly, Candace was temporarily engulfed by a swarm of bright blue butterflies. Puzzled, she took a step back. She hadn’t heard anything about butterflies from the others who had visited this bridge. . . .
The butterflies gathered at a central spot on the bride, forming a tight group. After a moment, they began to change, molding together to form the figure of a young woman with long bluish hair, wearing a rotting wedding dress. She tilted her head at Candace, looking confused. “How’d you know my name?”
Candace was lost for words. Nothing she’d read about Emily had mentioned her wearing a wedding dress. Nor had it mentioned she would be blue, and look half-rotted, with one skeletal arm and leg. And there was something rather important missing – the rope around her neck. She’d died from hanging – hadn’t she? This manifestation looked like it had been stabbed, or possibly hit over the head. . . .
Emily suddenly looked rather embarrassed. “Oh, wait – you want the other girl, don’t you? I’m sorry, it’s just when I hear my name. . . . Excuse me, I’ll let her know she’s wanted.” She dissolved back into butterflies, darting under the bridge.
Candace turned back to Marty and Doc, who were staring at her with wide, confused eyes. Still in shock, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind – “I didn’t even know you could get a wrong number!”
Would you believe I only wrote this one YESTERDAY? I was completely stuck, I'm ashamed to admit. I had no idea what to write, so in desperation I visited Tracey's old BTTF fanfic page, hoping to find some inspiration for a BTTF fanfic I could write her. And while there, I happened to stumble across her old "Haunted Time" sequel, the one that would have involved Emily's Bridge.
I'm sure you all realize who I immediately thought of when I saw "Emily." Research showed the two apparently had somewhat similar backstories (both eloped to get away from their unconsenting fathers, both died as a result -- though Emily of the bridge hung herself after her lover failed to show, rather than being murdered), and I couldn't help myself. I hope you at least find it amusing, Tracey -- I'm just glad I was able to come up with something.
So Ho Ho Ho, and a Merry Christmas to you all!
no subject
Date: 2009-12-26 03:35 am (UTC)How sad, poor Percy and poor Fred!
I is saddened...
So hey! Would you like a fic in return? :O)
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Date: 2009-12-26 03:40 am (UTC)And yeah, I know. :( Sorry I gave you depressing fic, but it was the strongest idea in my head at the time.
If you think you could whip one up, sure! :)