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fandomhigh_ooc2012-08-21 09:49 am
childhood-taunt.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh_ooc2012-08-21 09:49 am
Entry tags:
Meme: Writing Samples
Yes. We had a meme yesterday. But we haven't seen this one done in a while so...
Show us the writing samples of your characters!
Show us the writing samples of your characters!
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It was just another peaceful Fandom morning. Calm, tranquil, nothing, not a drunken squirrel, a lost teal deer, or even a random alot of noise, disturbed the scene before anyone around to witness it. Naturally it couldn't last.
"Naga! No! Bad girl!" Korra paused a moment to catch her breath before resuming pursuit of the fleeing polar bear dog. She could not believe this was happening. She also had a new-found respect for Tenzin trying to control Meelo. "Naga! Stop!"
It was only after they got to the park, having covered the *entire* island along the way, that Naga finally skidded to a halt, dumping her burden on the grass and flopping down, paws first on top of it. Or rather him. "Naga, off," Korra ordered, tugging fruitlessly at Naga's saddle. "Now, Naga!"
"Worthless wench! Get this foul beast off me!"
Korra paused in the middle of trying to haul Naga off Loki. Instead she let go and placed her hands on her hips. "You know, I changed my mind. Go on, Naga, play."
"What?" Loki screeched, flailing as Naga licked his head. "I am not a chew toy!"
Korra found a tree to lean against as she watched them. "Sorry," she said, not sounding at all sorry. "Worthless wench over here. Can't control the foul beast."
The foul beast in question wagged her tail as she continued giving Loki a tongue bath. "It is getting slobber all over my clothes!"
"That just means she likes you, Loki," Korra told him as she fished in her belt pouch for the small box that she still didn't believe was a phone, it didn't even have a separate earpiece, but what it did have... "Or she thinks you taste good."
"I am not a snack ei-...are you taking *pictures*?"
"Of course not," she told him. "I'm getting video." As far as Korra was concerned, video was awesome.
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-----
She hadn't meant to fall asleep on the common room couch. It had just sort of...happened. The combination of Tyra Banks' screeching about smizing and vapid talking-heads ("I just, like, want to win because this dream is so important to me. I just want to feel whole and real in my spirit, like my body is....mostly.") had lulled Olive into a half-awake, half-dream state, until she'd cuddled up with a pillow and decided she'd walk back to her room when it seemed less far away.
And oh, how naive she'd been. When she woke, it wasn't because of her usual problem of the sun directly hitting her in the eye from her window (HOW? HOW DID IT DO THAT? It was like a tracking device that only worked on weekends) -- it was because of the weight on her face and chest.
It tickled. That was her first clue that something was deeply, horribly wrong. Olive opened her eyes against the mass of reddish-brown tangles on her face, and shrieked, flailing out against the hair.
"Motherf -- did I grow a beard?" she yelled, bolting up into a sitting position and wading through the hair until her face was freed, at least. "I didn't even know I could grow a beard, let alone Rip van Winkle it up."
"Wallaby," came a placating, understanding voice in the kitchen area. The girl Olive spotted (after discovering how hard it was to turn your head with like, fifty pounds of hair attached to it) was the sort of put-together fashionista she'd never quite understood -- her shoes matched her earrings. So much work -- and she was shaking her head disparagingly. "I've seen this before."
"...wallaby?" Olive repeated, untangling her legs from her new tresses. "Like, as in, baby kangaroo?"
"Whole separate species, actually. But yeah, we have one around here who can ruin a good haircut with like, twenty feet of extra hair if you're not careful," the girl said, coming around with a mug of coffee. She bent to examine Olive's hair, though Olive wasn't a hundred percent sure on what, exactly, she was checking. The problem seemed pretty damn obvious to her.
"Come with me," the girl said briskly as she straightened. "I've got some shears in my room. We'll fix you up good as new."
Olive raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You've cut hair before?" Why was she arguing? Seriously? It wasn't like she'd decided that the whole Renaissance-faire-attendee-my-clothes-are-all-made-of-hemp-and-I-don't-believe-in-the-myth-of-showering look was her new thing now.
"Split ends are way too expensive to maintain in a salon," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Come on. Oh -- just be careful," she added as she led the way down the hall. "My roommate's dragons might, like, make a nest in it. I don't even ask anymore, it just seems like something they'd do."
Olive stopped for a moment, allowed herself to process that, and decided that the prospect of "dragons" (she would have air-quoted, were her arms not full of hair) wasn't enough to deter her from relieving her already mounting neck strain.
"Got it. I'll watch for the dragons."
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****
Jack hadn't asked for the days of the full moon off when he took this job. He'd been fine working them in London, as long as he shut everything down well before dark. Besides, something about requesting special considerations from a vampire got his back up.
Anyhow. All he needed to do today was update a spreadsheet of liquor orders and he would be fine. It would barely take him past lunchtime. He settled into a booth where he could watch Tiny preparing the garnishes for the bar while he worked.
He was just double-checking the volume of vodka sold when he felt something small and furry brush by his leg. He looked down, prepared to be disgusted by the rodent infestation, and saw …. a tiny, adorable bunny. It wriggled its nose at him, and Jack impulsively scooped down a hand to pick it up.
He had exactly a moment to admire it before he realized the bunny was only the first of many. They were everywhere: Tiny bunnies nibbled at the outside of his pants leg; tiny bunnies feasted on the maraschino cherries and orange slices at the bar, while Tiny stormed off in disgust. Tiny bunnies frolicked on the dance floor, dancing even though no music was playing.
It was, in short, a full-scale bunny invasion.
Jack's first order of business was to sit on the booth table, as the bunnies really weren't much good at climbing. His second was to call an exterminator.
His third was to wait on hold for ten minutes, during which time the bunnies learned to climb and he began sweeping them out into the street. Not that it seemed to make any difference: A dozen hopped inside for every ten he chased away. Worse, the exterminator couldn't come out until the next morning no matter what. (Jack likely hadn't helped his case by swearing at the receptionist on that end -- but in his defense, he'd just gotten bitten by tiny teeth that felt like needles, and it was getting very close to sunset.)
He called Eric to leave a message letting him know the bar would likely need to be closed overnight, then massaged his nose in resignation as he made one last phone call.
"Karla? Look, there's a bit of a … wee bunny problem at work. Can you come over? Now? How good are your shields?"
Once he was certain the valuables in the bar could be sufficiently guarded, he sat back down and closed his eyes again, trying to decide if he should have Karla barricade him in as well. It was certainly expedient, and he knew the wolf would love to feast on bunnies of any size. He could already feel the saliva gathering in his mouth at the very thought.
On the other hand, eating weetiny creatures felt vaguely wrong. And besides, rabbit wasn't even kosher.
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____
Another glance out the window told Daenerys what she already knew: that the glass was still spattered with the rain that had been falling since yesterday, and had yet to cease. She was tempted to go out anyway, to take her silver and ride for the coast, just to be outside. And while she knew that this was only the beginning -- she'd already been told of the snow, which she'd never seen, as a child of summer -- she also knew that she couldn't risk it. Ser Jorah had told her, before she'd left Essos, to be careful. Her condition was still delicate, and while Dany had argued that the fire hadn't really seemed to hurt her, she couldn't imagine he'd be pleased at hearing that her first few days in this new land had put her to bed with a cold.
So she paced. Yesterday had seen her sad attempts to write to her khalasar, until she realized that her written Dothraki was too pathetic, and she wasn't even certain any of them could read. She'd written to Ser Jorah, but had torn up the letter. She wanted better news before sending him word, and all she'd have to report now was that her roommate thought her odd and feared the dragons, and it had rained for four days.
She could do better.
As Dany began to wonder whether a thick cloak would keep her warm enough for a ride, her attention wandered to the floor, to the nest where the dragons were sleeping.
Or where they were supposed to be, anyway. Even just that quick look showed her that Viseron and Rhaegal were accounted for, but Drogon had gone missing. Again.
"Drogon?" she called, her voice commanding. It was nothing like listening to the girl across the hall call for her cat -- Dany's voice didn't take on any lilting, coaxing tone. She sounded like a mother who knew her child had done something very bad and was hiding. Because he likely had, and was.
From her closet, now that she was listening, she heard a rustle, followed by a squeak. She strode over, pulling open the door, and stared down at her little black dragon as he grappled a squirrel with a sheet of paper to the ground. "Drogon, [i]drop it[/i]." This was the third time one of her dragons had gotten ahold of one of the recording squirrels, and Dany was desperately anticipating the day that it stopped being interesting to them.
Drogon held the squirrel's leg in his mouth for a moment longer before letting out an apologetic mewl and trotting over to join his brothers. Dany knelt down to pick up the paper as the squirrel squeaked indignantly, scrabbling for the door.
Dannee beeing emo in room AGAN. She neeeds a hobbee or boyfrend.
Dany had no idea what half the words meant, but she did know that any animal that could write in the Common Tongue was probably trouble, and her eyes narrowed as she watched the creature retreat.
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___
April sat up in bed. Drew her blanket over herself. Took in the state of her room. Then rubbed her eyes, blinked, and looked again.
"There's a pony in my room," she said loudly.
No, there was no one around who would actually hear her. It just seemed like the kind of thing worth recognizing.
She rolled her eyes and leaned over the side of her bed to the nightstand to put in her contacts. Then figuring that it wasn't worth making a second trip to the nightstand, she put on her Very Important eyeliner too, and only then turned around to see if the pony was still there.
"Oh," she said dispassionately. "You're still here."
Look, she was used to Fandom pulling these kinds of stupid antics on her. It was hard to be too affected by it.
The pony blinked its enormous, innocent blue eyes at her.
"Is there, like, a reason that you're here?" April asked with a heavy sigh.
The pony shook its head.
April stood up and walked over to it.
"Are you evil?"
They'd had evil ponies last month, after all.
The pony shook its head again.
"But you speak English," she said.
The pony nodded.
"Hablas español?"
Another nod.
April sighed. "But you don't speak."
The pony shook its head, and as if sensing that April required some further convincing to find it adorable, tossed its long mane in her direction.
April took two steps back. Then she gave the pony a skeptical once-over. Shiny blond coat, heart-shaped hooves, a smattering of what looked like freckles on its belly, a long mane, way-too-adorable-to-be-trustworthy sparkly blue eyes… yeah, she'd made her decision.
"I don't like you," April informed the pony dispassionately.
The pony blinked up at her.
"Yeah," said April. "I want you to leave."
The pony whinnied sadly at her, but April didn't budge until it left her apartment. Then she followed it to the door and locked it.
"Cool," she said, without so much as cracking a smile. "I'm gonna make some eggs."
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All Karolina wanted to do was get out of her room and walk down the hall into the common room for a snack. That was all. It was very simple. But no. See, when she opened her door, it didn't open into the third floor hallway like it was supposed to. Instead, what she saw before her looked more like the back of a store. Curiosity got the best of her, and she stepped out. This meant the door closed behind her. She immediately turned around to open it, but it wouldn't budge again. In fact, it didn't even look like her door anymore.
"Crap."
It left her no choice but to move forward. She moved about two steps before she realized she wasn't alone. It was the same moment as the person sharing the space with her noticed her as well. His eyebrows bounced and he immediately stepped in front of a crate of –– did that say Squishy? No, Squeeshie… Wait, was this the back room at Turtle & Canary? What? And was that a crate of imitation Squishy? Karolina's eyes widened. She'd have to tell someone about that! The store couldn't just ––
"What are you doing here?" Apu exclaimed, first to get out of their mutual bout of dumbfounded staring. "Get out! No snoop-- no students allowed in the back of the store! Out, out!"
Karolina held up her hands and tried to look apologetic, even though she was more preoccupied with feeling utterly confused about how she'd ended up across town. "I'm going, I'm going," she said, heading for the door she knew would lead into the store proper. Or at least it was supposed to. "Sorry."
Of course, as soon as she went through the door, it was obvious her misadventures weren't over yet. Fosse's cleaning supply closet could attest to that. And some cute girl's room after that (there'd been an incident with a bra, Karolina was never going to stop blushing), and the kitchen at Mooby Land (and really, did every business on this island have something to hide in the back?), and the Danger Shop (at least she thought it was the Danger Shop – but let's face it, it was hard to tell with a simulation on).
And then finally a room with muffled sounds and bad visibility. The lights were dim and flickering, and without thinking about it much, Karolina tugged her bracelet off, filling the room with her own soft, colored light.
Bad move. Someone immediately shrieked, "What the everloving bloody fuck?!"
Karolina blinked at the scene before her. That –– that was the lady who taught Superhero Ethics and the guy who –– Oh-kay. "Oh wow, I'm so so so so sorry!" Karolina called out, covering her eyes as she spun around and stumbled out the door again. "Geez." Holding her hand over her eyes, she was just about ready to power up and blow a hole in the next wall she came across, just to get through to somewhere that was anywhere near where she'd been just before. Sure, it was destruction of property and she was only half considering it for that exact reason, but Fandom establishments had to have insurance for that sort of thing, right? It was stupid if they didn't.
But then something smelled really nice. Slowly, she dropped the hand from her face and opened her eyes, and blinked. It was a common room. It wasn't her common room, not the one where she'd been going, but it was a common room. And there was a boy there, washing a bowl. And the smell… There was something baking in the oven and it smelled delicious, and Karolina's stomach growled, and just how long had she been bouncing around the island-size pinball machine, exactly?
The boy glanced back at her over his shoulder, then looked a little taken aback. It took Karolina a second to realize it was because she was still showing off her lightshow. "Uh, pie?" he asked anyway, nodding towards the oven. "I mean, in a moment."
Karolina sighed, smiled sheepishly, and nodded, deciding this was good enough.
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The sample I actually sent in reads poorly in hindsight and I don't wanna post it. Guess it did its job, though.
***
Victor Mancha had not had a good day.
It had started when he'd set off the metal detectors at the National Archives during a class trip. He'd been waved through, thanks to a stammered story about having had a lot of surgery as a kid and a glare from Professor Atreides, but it had been way too close a call if he intended to keep his secret identity secret. At least seeing the Constitution was pretty cool.
Victor was still sulking about the whole mess when they got back to the dorms. And now there was this blond kid leaning in his open door, interrupting a perfectly good bad mood.
"You're a robot," the kid -- messy hair, neat clothes -- informed him, sounding rather intensely interested in the fact.
"Android," Victor corrected, trying to smile despite the automatic frosty note in his tone. There were people on the island who knew; it wasn't a huge surprise word was getting around, especially after the display at the Archives. And he'd never been much good at lying. "Why are you asking?"
"Right, so I told this guy I know about the trip," Topher explained, shifting from foot to foot. "He said he met you back home and that you were a -- android -- and I was wondering -- can I take you apart and see your circuitry?"
At that one, Victor's frosty tone turned into ice daggers. "What?" He was all geared up for some anti-cyborg bigotry, which would have been bad enough, and then the blond kid came up with that. (Who told him, anyhow?)
Topher did not seem to get the hint. "See, I'm really good with electronics. I can put you back together, promise, and -- anyhow, robots don't really have rights. So it's not like you can stop me." His tone on the last bit was utterly flat.
Victor was fighting an urge to tell him that this robot had the right to put his fist through the face of anyone who tried it when a third person joined them. "Topher, wait," the dark-haired teen said, then turned to Victor. "I'm sorry. He wasn't supposed to come talk to you without me. He got … excited."
"Hey, Billy. It's cool," Victor said, drawing in a breath and reminding himself not to lose his temper -- especially not at a version of somebody who'd had his back in a fight before. Even if he suddenly wasn't so sure about Wiccan's taste in friends. "No cutting me up for spare parts though, all right?"
"Fine," Topher sighed in a way that suggested he was being unfairly discriminated against, and Victor realized he almost felt a little sorry for the guy.
Or, he would if he wasn't the proposed science fair project.
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"...She's a talking pony," Topher replied, eyeballing her. "That's weird."
"So you have told me," Liara affirmed. She took a long sip of her warm human beverage, and instantly regretted it. It was bitter, and far too warm, and this was her third cup and her fingers were starting to twitch. Was she having an allergic reaction? "And I realize that this is considered unusual in human culture, but I am still unclear on why this should matter to me."
"Talking!" Topher said, waving her hands around. "Pony! Who can pull balloons out of her ass!"
Liara frowned. "That... seems biologically implausible," she ventured. "Has she been to the clinic?" A beat. "Balloons are made of plastics, aren't they? Has anyone examined her gastro-intestinal system - perhaps her waste products are composed of-- what's it called again-- polychloroprene?"
"She-- is-- a pony," Topher restated.
"Yes," Liara said, "I am aware of that."
"Ponies do not crap plastics!" Topher reported. "That's not how intestines work!"
Liara shrugged, and took another sip of her horrible beverage, jittering a little in her seat. "Oh, I don't know," she admitted, sounding a little abashed. "Biology is not my field. Well, I don't have a field yet, but biology is not the field I am interested in. It seems so... messy."
"I'm not talking to you any more." Topher got up and stomped away from the table with his drink. Which had not yet been paid for.
"I'm sorry," Liara called after him, "I didn't realize that was offensive in human culture!"
Topher slammed the door shut behind him.
"Get it together, T'Soni," Liara muttered into her beverage, which failed spectacularly in speaking back to her. It was moments like this she found herself wishing fervently that she had paid more attention in her Development of Sentient Species classes. It might have put a great deal of her conversations here into better perspective, instead of leaving her flailing to the wind.
She sighed. "When I get back," she said, "I am not telling mother a word about this."
If she got back. With the looks the Perk staff were giving her, she was honestly considering hiding under her desk and never getting out again. Or finding a tomb of some sort. Did humans even do archaeological digs? Perhaps they could bury her there. She banged her head off the table.
"You're cut off," a passing barrista informed her. She banged her head against the table so hard she felt it rattling in her crest.
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His eyebrows reaching for his hairline, Jackson was staring out into the hallway. This was just, this was –– Really? Was the island just actively mocking him, now?
He had not had a very good couple of days, see. Or, no, scratch that. Not a very good week. Starting with the dumbass weekend with the little kids showing up (no, he hadn't enjoyed having twins clinging to his legs with their tiny arms and calling him their daddy like they were happy about it, really, he hadn't, shut up), then following that up with the day it had rained Dr Pepper (it left everything disgustingly sticky, okay?), and finally topping everything off with yesterday's run-in with some guy who'd electrocuted him like a freak for his troubles for mistaking him for McCall. As if it was his fault that Derek freaking Hale already being around had him on edge and the guy was a dead ringer for Scott.
So no, the latest week hadn't been great. Not full of stellar moments in the life of Jackson Whittemore.
And now, now there was what appeared to be a team of gremlins in the hallway right outside his dorm room. A lacrosse team of gremlins, with miniature sticks and jerseys and everything. It was a completely ridiculous sight. They weren't even good at the game, for Christ's sake. Jackson's eyebrows dipped way down into a frown. "No," he said, firmly, no matter how futile that was. "Nuh uh, I am not doing this today."
The gremlins ignored him. One of them whooped over shooting a goal. Another smacked the one doing the little victory dance because it had been the wrong goal.
Jackson's jaw tightened.
"Go. Away."
They paid him no attention.
For a fairly satisfying second, Jackson pictured himself kicking the crap out of the gremlins all the way to the stairs. Then he got a grip and realized just how stupid that was going to look to just about anyone coming down the hall. He hadn't heard about getting into fights with the little bastards being any kind of a thing, and he still had a reputation to establish here. Maybe in a month or two he'd be able to do that without embarrassing himself. But not yet.
So, inhaling sharply, he glared at the gremlins (who continued not to seem to care, adding insult to injury) and slammed the door shut, vowing to himself he wasn't going to go outside before the island behaved itself again. He could always order in.
Or pay his roommate to get dinner for him. Same thing.
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***********
Magneto stood at the doorway and frowned. This is what passed for an office? No. This would not do at all. He made a mental note to have a chat with the dean of faculty as soon as possible to have this changed. He was sure that Skywalker fellow would be happy to give up his office to someone with Magneto's stature.
With a wave of his hand, boxes and office furniture floated around the room until their placement met his satisfaction. Settling down at his desk, he began to put together his lesson plan. The fact there was danger room technology available made his work much simpler. All he needed was-
"Magneto."
Ah. Yes. He had been expecting this. "My good Captain," He said to the iconic figure standing in the doorway. "Come in. I was just about to make some tea.
"No need," Steve said bluntly. "I'm here to warn you. This is a school, not a pulpit for mutant supremacy. I will not tolerate any attempts to subvert our students and cause any problems on this island."
"Why, my dear Captain," Magneto said with feigned shock. "I wouldn't even dream of such a thing."
That earned Magneto a suspicious glare. "Really."
"My only intent is to show our students that there are issues and causes worth fighting for," Magneto replied with an amused tone. "Much like the time you rallied all your little friends to oppose Mr. Stark's hero registration policy."
Steve frowned even more. "Yes, well that-"
"Perhaps you would like to lecture on that topic," Magneto suggested, "I'm sure I can arrange for Mr. Stark to join us for a lively debate."
"That won't be necessary," Steve growled. "Just be warned, Magneto. I'm not the only one on this island who knows your history. We'll be watching."
"Wonderful," Magneto replied with false cheer, "I look forward to each of their visits with the same dreary warning. Now if you don't mind, I do have to get back to my lesson plan."
There was a good deal of grumbling as the good captain went about his business. Magneto returned to his lesson plan with a smirk. Now if he only was able to-
"Magneto."
In the doorway was a large man with a metallic arm accompanied by a young girl with red hair.
Ah. Yes. Them.
It was a long day for Magneto. He never did get to that lesson plan.
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School was… different. Yeul had never been at a boarding school before, never left on her own, without a Guardian, for so long. Some days it felt like she was standing in a snow storm, her coat forgotten, and the cold biting at her arms. Like she'd been outside long enough to get cold but not long enough to find it horribly unpleasant, even though it had teeth.
As she made her way to the room that she shared (another unusual thing), Yeul decided that was the best way to describe it. She would write to Caius and let him know, though she would be careful to assure him that all the teeth were metaphorical (and not mention to him, perhaps, that there were things on the island that could bite, as that would distress him).
It was very strange to be on her own.
Tentatively, Yeul thought she liked it, as it was novel. Most of what she encountered on the island was something she'd never seen before (and she'd seen a great deal) and classes were interesting because always before she'd been homeschooled.
Yeul ducked her head, smiling faintly, as she slipped into her room. Even if she had not all the experience her situation had given her, she'd have known the classes were out of the ordinary.
Setting her books on the table by her bed—she'd been at the library—Yeul sat down, content just to let the moment roll over her for a long, comforting moment, before she found a pen and began thinking of what to write.
The start was easy; she always started her letters the same way.
Caius, she wrote, I remain well and without any new visions occurring. I miss you. How are you? Fandom is a pleasant place but it is strange to be away from you for so long.
He would tell her, again, that it was for her own health. Yeul sighed. That always mattered to him more than her happiness, though he tried for both if he could achieve it. There was no use arguing with him. She could only remind him that she cared about him in return, as she always had. Caius would do what he thought best.
There are teal deer here, Caius. They are not monsters and are harmless but they come in groups if you talk for a great deal. They're sweet though I rarely find enough to talk about for more than one show up…
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The end result might be my favorite of the writing samples that I've ever done.
***
Part 1
If the surveillance cameras mounted high on the walls of the Enrichment Satellite Learning Center could blink, they'd be blinking right now -- at the boy who stood near the entrance door, hands behind his back, looking half fascinated by the technology and half, inexplicably, like he wanted to laugh. QUERY RESULTS: SUBJECT DESIGNATED [SUBJECT NAME HERE] NOT ON ROSTER FOR CURRENT TESTING SERIES.
"Oh, isn't that cute?" GLaDOS transmitted through the test chamber's speaker system in a harmless-but-condescending tone. "A volunteer. A real volunteer, with actual self-election initiative. You must really love science. We're going to have lots of fun together."
The boy cleared his throat, still looking around the room. "Actually . . ."
"Oh." Now GLaDOS let disdain into her voice -- that, and a touch of disappointment. "You talk, too. I miss the days when test subjects didn't talk back." It was more satisfying to taunt Chell when she never said a word.
Not that GLaDOS missed her. At all.
She activated her slow clap processor and let two very loud, very slow, very sarcastic claps echo off the chamber walls. "Well, don't just stand there like your secret dream is to be a Weighted Storage Cube -- by the way, if it is, it's not so secret any more. Go get some long-fall boots and a portal gun and get to testing."
"I'm not here for class!" he insisted. (It was funny how they all persisted in thinking it was a class, like it was supposed to benefit them in some way, but as long as it kept them testing . . .) "I'm just here to explain why Stephanie isn't here today."
QUERY RESULTS: SUBJECT DESIGNATED BROWN, STEPHANIE (OVERLY TALKATIVE, ANNOYINGLY FOND OF PUNS AND UNNECESSARY ACROBATICS) NOT PRESENT.
"She has to have someone else explain the excruciatingly obvious for her?" GLaDOS inquired acerbically. "Well, that's a first. I'll have to put a commendation in her file: finally learned to shut up. For once."
"Not really," the boy replied, and brought his hands out from behind his back to reveal the tiny, brightly-colored robin cupped in his palm. "She's still taking a lot, but it's a little hard to understand. Unless you speak bi--"
A pair of hydraulic panels shot out from the walls and interposed themselves between GLaDOS's nearest security camera and the boy -- or more precisely, his avian companion.
"BIRD! IT'S A BIRD! GET IT AWAY FROM ME, IT'S EVIL!"
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"Oh, look. You've found me," GLaDOS said snidely to the girl who'd just stepped through the sliding double doors to her AI chamber. She swiveled around to point her optical sensor at her visitor, and (not being burdened with a pesky morality core) was not above partially shuttering it for the narrowed-eye effect. "And I didn't even have to lay a trail of breadcrumbs for you to follow."
That was annoying. She'd have to see about installing some kind of test chamber waiting room to make it a little more difficult for them. Or maybe a fire pit? It had been a long time since she'd been able to threaten someone with a good old-fashioned victory candescence.
". . . Your office is listed in the faculty directory," the girl pointed out after an incredulous moment.
Was it? Damn.
"Well then," GLaDOS replied, firing up her sarcasm processor to full throttle, "congratulations on mastering basic reading skills. You must have a lot of time on your hands to take up a hobby so completely irrelevant to testing. But since you're here, you might as well explain why you decided to use the testing session to sleep. That is what your Relaxation Chamber is for."
The girl reached up to rub at the back of her neck, looking embarrassed, and GLaDOS tilted her optical sensor module in a distinctly inquisitive gesture.
"Um," the girl began.
When further words proved to not be immediately forthcoming, GLaDOS cued up a sound loop of the Jeopardy! theme and began to rock her optical sensor module back and forth in time with the music.
It had a very satisfying unnerving effect, a finding she immediately tucked away in her memory banks.
"I had a late night!" the girl finally blurted out, turning an amusing shade of red.
"The night before a testing cycle? Maybe you should apply some of that copious free time of yours to learning how to read a calendar," GLaDOS replied. "What were you doing? No, no, let me guess. A late, romantic moonlit stroll with another test subject? Do you know what happens to people who don't know how to read a calendar, and do that sort of thing? I do."
She craned her sensor module up, circled the girl, and craned back down to peer at her from the other side, adjusting her vocal output to a falsely sweet singsong, as if she were telling a small child a creepy, creepy bedtime story. "I was researching all about it the other day. There you are, enjoying the breeze and the night air and your silly fluttery adolescent human emotions, and all of a sudden you get the nicest surprise." A loud howling sound effect echoed through the chamber. "That hungry werewolf who's been stalking you all night! And he's so glad to meet you."
"Oooooookay then," the girl said slowly. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Make sure you do." GLaDOS retracted herself up toward the ceiling, the better to look down at her as she backed toward the door. "You're going to need it for next week's test."
That was an outright lie, of course. But it was funny.
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Well, here she was again. Getting out for a while. Purely in the interest of science, naturally, because she wasn't bored or lonely or anything like that. GLaDOS definitely wasn't downloading herself into a tiny processor attached to a potato battery out of any sentimental attachment to that one murderous test subject. It was just good to get a little change of perspective every now and then. To optimize her objectivity.
Optimization looked a lot like getting jolted along, stuck to one of the prongs of Atlas's portal gun, down Fandom's cobblestone streets and far too many stairs.
GLaDOS would have sighed if her Aperture Science Portable Tuber-Powered Processor had the capacity for that sound, but she at least thought a gusty sigh when Atlas careened clumsily into a wall.
"Who do I have to threaten to make this place rain conversion gel?" she complained in her tinny monophonic voice. "I will find a way to make you feel pain. Maybe then you'd learn to walk instead of blundering around like a deaf whale in a noise-cancellation chamber."
No response, of course. She hardly expected the robot to talk, but if her teenage test subjects insisted on being chatty, something needed to put up with her in silence.
"Go to the park," GLaDOS ordered. "Some of those squirrels might be around. If they can hold notepads and pencils, they can hold tiny portal guns."
Atlas did a stupid little dance for a moment, teetered on the edge of a step, then scampered on down the rest of the staircase while GLaDOS occupied herself contemplating squirrel-sized tests. This could be lots of fun.
***
Okay, three comments then. Oops.
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Illyria (http://community.livejournal.com/fandomhigh_ooc/685267.html?thread=20626131#t20626131) (App 1, guest-starring Tommy Gavin, which I withdrew in favor of Door) | Illyria (http://fandomhigh-ooc.livejournal.com/739237.html?thread=26238885#t26238885) (App 2, guest-starring a teal deer) | Emmett Honeycutt (http://fandomhigh-ooc.livejournal.com/739237.html?thread=26238629#t26238629) (guest-starring Illyria, Francine, and Katchoo's fist, so not dirty. Which actually got played-out -- slightly differently -- in game.) | Cally (http://fandomhigh-ooc.livejournal.com/889016.html?thread=39441592#t39441592) (guest-starring no one) | Edmund Blackadder (and Baldrick) (http://fandomhigh-ooc.livejournal.com/889016.html?thread=39441848#t39441848) (guest-starring Sam Vimes) | Bo (http://fandomhigh-ooc.livejournal.com/833846.html?thread=34805558#t34805558) (guest-starring Eric and Fosse)
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Ace, guest-starring Raven and Kenzi:
"Here, you take this one," Ace said to the girl with the jewel on her forehead, passing over a tall, unlabeled aluminum can.
"What must I do with it?" She turned it over in her hands, frowning dubiously at Ace.
Ace stabbed a finger in the direction of the thing that surely even Raven would have to admit was a threat. "When I say go, pull off the cap, lob it over there, and run for the dorms like you still want your backside attached when you get there."
"This is an explosive device?" Now the frown was directed at the container. “I am a pacifist; I can teleport us away from danger, but I cannot use this to cause harm."
The stabby finger became a slappy hand, though the blow fell on Ace's own forehead. "It's a building!"
A cabin, to be exact. A cabin that wasn't sitting quietly in the preserve (where it didn't belong anyhow) like a good little inanimate object, but hurtling across the underbrush toward the tent-filled campsite, spitting fire and bones at them as it came.
"It would still be an act of destruction," Raven argued earnestly. "Your choice to burn down your tent was your own, but I cannot—"
"That was an accident." Sort of. Roman candles attached to the tent poles? Intentional. Hail of colored flameballs landing on the tent instead of in the pond? Tiny, tiny misjudgment of the wind velocity, and so very not Ace's fault. If that flock of ducks hadn't cruised by at the exact moment, she'd still have both a tent and a roommate willing to share it with her. "I've not got some vendetta against buildings in general, you know. Just evil ones. "
Raven cocked her head toward the building. "I can sense evil." For a moment Ace thought she'd made her point -- until the can of Nitro-9 was thrust back into her hand. "Which means it is a living creature; I will not harm it."
"It's a cabin!" Gordon Bennett, why was she even having this argument? It'd work better if they flanked the thing, but if the choice was throw both cans herself or get run over by a fire-breathing house...
(con't...)
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Which was close enough now that Raven could point to the clawing, scrabbling items that propelled it across the field and announce triumphantly, "It has feet! It is clearly alive."
"...Chicken feet!" Seriously, what kind of evil house had chicken feet? Or...feet at all. But chicken was just a bridge too far.
“Holy shitballs!” From behind the nearest tent, a long, braided mop of pink and black hair popped out. Wide kohl-lined eyes darted from Ace to the moving house and back. "Did you say chicken feet?"
Ace groaned. "Look, you lot can have your Poultry Protection Society meeting when there's not a building trying to--"
"GIMMIE." The girl dashed across the grass in knee-high combat boots, out-thrust hand grabbing for the Nitro before she was even in range for Ace to hand it over. "That's Baba Yaga's house."
"Who?" No time wasted on asking; Ace shoved the can at her just as the word left her mouth.
"She eats bad little girls who talk back to their parents and don't clean up their rooms," rattled out as the girl fumbled with the cap.
"That's me for dinner, then."
"Join the club. Now?"
"Now! FIRE IN THE HOLE!" Ace's can sailed toward the left chicken leg.
"BANZAI!" The other took out the right just as Raven's cloak swept over the three of them, whisking them all a safe distance back into the trees.
Not so far away that they couldn't see the dying conflagration in the field, as what was left of the evil house clucked loudly once, then fell over and collapsed into a pile of ash.
Raven's disappointed puppy eyes did nothing to dim Ace's grin -– especially when the pink-braids girl jumped up, pumped a fist into the air, and shouted, "BOOM SHAKA LAKA, you skanky old kid-munchin’ bitch!"
"...You wouldn't be looking for a tent-mate, would you?" Ace might be a little bit in love.
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Cade slouched as well as he was able in the office of the Dean of Students—the chairs seemed to have been designed to resist slouching--and kept himself entertained by blowing his bangs out of his eyes and mocking the stuff on the guy’s desk. “World’s Greatest Daddy” mug? Seriously?
Stupid planet. It had started badly enough: some people had Coruscanti accents but had never heard of Coruscant, and he’d been driven on a bus with karking wheels (which was really one step—and a small one--above riding a bantha) to an island full of obnoxiously chirpy people. When he found the one guy who wasn’t demanding to know his name, where he was from and his favorite color all in one breath, it turned he’d not only heard of Coruscant (because Cade would admit to no one he was from Ossus), this Atton guy said he was from, like, three million years in the past.
Riiiiight.
Naturally Cade had tried to punch him in the head for being such a gaggalak mursto, messing with new people like that, they’d knocked over a table of drinks and pastries brawling on the ground, and now here he was, waiting for some Dean to be disappointed in him.
“Echuta,” he muttered under his breath, banging his boot against the front of the desk.
“Language,” someone behind him snapped as the door closed with an ominous thump. Boots marched in a carefully measured cadence up to where Cade was sitting. Cade rolled his eyes.
“I think you’re trying too hard to be intimidating, pateesa—“ he began, then looked up.
Anakin Karking Skywalker. Darth Vader himself.
“I thought the deathstick would have worn off by now!” he yelped. “Go away!”
“YOU’RE USING DEATHSTICKS?!!!”
It was hours before any of the students saw Cade again, and when they did, he’d been given detention for the entire year. It was a new Fandom record.
Ohhhh, Uncle Bantha was going to get an earful about sending him to this rock.
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--
This path was one hundred and forty-nine steps long. Did you know that?
George did.
He'd walked it enough times. He knew the crack in the paving where the thousand tiny ants crawled from, that each tile was one and a half of his feet long, and he knew the type of moss mushrooming from between the slabs. He knew it all.
That was because he'd paced from one end to the other twenty six times in the last half hour alone.
There were a million things he should be doing right now. This was not one of them. Rose would be frantic, Jack would be furious and Nancy would be worse. Screwing up badly enough to end up stuck here, with a portal that refused to send him anywhere but right back to the same island he was trying to leave... That had to land him off the Mirror's agent shortlist. She'd warned him just how careful he needed to be, she'd warned him what would happen if he didn't stick to the letter of her terms. It wasn't his fault, and he knew that, but would she?
No. Because Nancy was not the mythical leader of Adrianglia's largest spy ring for nothing.
In a fit of frustration he kicked at a rock edging the path to his left. He was normally calm, rational, taking everything as it came, thinking it through, and letting it run its course, but this-- This was a big problem. As it turned out, kicking a solid lump of stone hurt, and George bit back a groan and a muttered curse.
The rock said nothing, but split neatly into two identical versions of that same rock. Some talent, for an inanimate object, and distracted from his internal tirade against himself, hazarded another kick.
“It might have feelings, you know.”
George spun instantly sliding back into his demure crafted facade. Manners swiftly kicked in and he bobbed a hint of a bow, “My Lady. I apologise, I didn’t see you there.”
“My lady?” Wow, did he have the wrong girl.
George flushed, and tried to look composed. “I was just... “ What was he just? “Checking.”
As you did.
There were now four rocks.
“You keep doing that, we’ll be inundated in a day, and I am not helping collect them all.”
A hint of a scowl ticked on his face at her tone, but George was far too polite to get outwardly snippy. She was still a lady. “Do they normally do that?”
“Do rocks... normally multiply by themselves?” She sounded half amused, and clearly mocking. “You tell me.”
Breathe, two, three-- “No, I suppose they don’t.” Four. “You’ve been so helpful.” George even managed to sound believable with that, and turned to find a better, quieter, pacing spot. It was probably about time.
When he'd sorted this portal issue out, then he'd be around other people.
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_____
Arietty still had a good six inches of yarn ladder left to climb before she made it all the way to the top of the desk when she felt it.
She was about to be seen.
She'd long since gotten used to the feeling -- it'd been at LEAST three months since she first started borrowing, so she was a regular old pro, now! -- but it still sent a thrill of panic and excitement up her body. She froze on the ladder for an instant as the door to the room started to open. There was too much left. She'd never make it to the top in time. She was absolutely going to get seen.
The door opened fully, and Arietty twisted on the ladder, just about ready to let go and drop down into the pile of clothes left on the floor, when the entering bean spoke.
"Hey Arietty, it's me!"
"Kenzi!" Arietty slumped into the ladder, then twisted to grin brightly up at her roommate. "I swear, I am NEVER going to get used to that!"
Kenzi shook her head in mock pity. "That's what comes from a life of crime, my friend." She gently reached out, and Arietty hopped into her palm so she could be lifted the rest of the way to the desktop, and her shoebox-and-fashion-magazine dorm-within-a-dorm. "Speaking of." Kenzi dug into her bag as soon as Arietty was settled, and withdrew a shiny black cylinder almost as tall as Arietty was. "I borrowed you something."
"Ooo!" Arietty bounced in place until Kenzi set it down, then hurried over. It took some work to get the cylinder knocked over, then a bit more to get the long cap off, but soon enough, she was gasping again, her eyes wide in delight. "Lipstick!"
"The shade's called 'Ruby Woo'."
"It's a lifetime supply!" Arietty declared. She ran her finger along the edge of the lipstick, then over her lips. "There, how's it look?" She made kissy lips at Kenzi, then dashed over to the other side of her shoebox room to get a look in the compact mirror she'd borrowed and propped up in the corner. "This'll go great with my new satin dress!"
Kenzi flopped back on her own bed with a wistful sigh. "I'm jealous. It must be so nice to get to borrow clothes from Barbie. That bitch has the biggest wardrobe."
Arietty laughed. "She's also twice my size," she pointed out. "And her shoes are horrid."
Kenzi shrugged, rolling over to lie on her stomach. Arietty took a running leap off the desk and bounced onto Kenzi's pillow to flop over next to her.
"So I was thinking, we should totally hit up some places downtown this weekend."
Arietty gave her a knowing look. "A borrower only borrows what she needs," she reminded her.
"And momma totally needs some fabulous new knee highs!"
Arietty shook her head. "If you weren't so bloody huge, I'd swear you were born a borrower."
"I wish, honey," Kenzi sighed. "I wish."
"It's alright," Arietty said, patting her reassuringly on the finger. "I like you, anyway."
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Okay. So, Sparkle should have known better. Shit, that was the hell of it, right there. Sparkle did know better. 'Should have known better' was sort of a thing that he'd been hearing constantly since as far back as he could remember, and in the end, there was always a distinct divide between the things that Sparks knew, and the things that Sparks did. And anyhow, where was the fun in knowing better? If you didn't have the balls to do stupid things while you were young, you'd probably grow up to be one of those old, boring, saggy somebodies, with their safe homes and no LIVES, and god, Sparkle didn't want that. Somebodies inevitably died old and bored and, you know, OLD, because that was worth mentioning twice, and old people never did anything interesting, and he'd rather not die of boredom playing shuffleboard, fuelled on a diet of gourmet strained-crap-of-the-day, thanks.
So, he'd busted into the warehouse, yeah. It was just a warehouse, wooden planks barring the doors and telling him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't welcome, and really, that just pissed Sparkle off. Of course he wasn't welcome! When had he ever been welcome anywhere that didn't expect him to do something inexcusably stupid, right? And it was just a stupid warehouse. What was the worst he was going to find in one of these things anyhow? Some old, rotten wooden palettes? Cockroaches? A bunch of empty beer cans and some old soggy mattress or something?
Honestly, he'd been kind of hoping for the soggy mattress. That way, he'd have someplace to go in case his roommate, like, put another sock on the door or something, how was he supposed to know about the significance of the sock, right? Except that he totally had, and he'd walked in anyhow, because, fuck it, it was his room and he needed his toothbrush. There was no damn way he was spending his night on the couch somewhere and not even taking his toothbrush, dental hygiene was important and they could pick up right where they left off, fine, but Sparks was not walking into town at three in the morning just to buy a new damn toothbrush.
Shit. No crappy old mattress. Just, like, a couch, and a bunch of tools, and really, what kind of person had a setup like this in a warehouse anyhow? The amount of pizza boxes sitting around was kind of obscene, okay, and if someone was going to go through all the trouble of making an abandoned warehouse all fancy inside, the least they could do would be pick up after themselves when they were done eating their stupid PIZZA like a bunch of slobs or whatever. Now he was going to have to go and find some other place that hadn't been claimed by some sort of freaky robot costume fetishists, and--
And...
It took him a moment to realize that he'd tripped some kind of alarm, because who the hell put alarms in old crappy buildings that were all boarded up anyhow, right? But it wasn't like he was here to make off with all that expensive-looking equipment or anything, he had just been looking for a fucking mattress here and he'd sooner die than go back to jail over some crappy warehouse anyhow, so he was turning tail and running like the wind back toward the window he'd crawled in through.
But not before pausing to grab a can of Coke, a roll of paper towel, and a screwdriver. Just because he could.
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Evan couldn't help but worry at his bottom lip with his teeth as he listened to the mayor talk to the people assembled at the town hall emergency meeting.
"--The source of these objects has yet to be uncovered, but it has been confirmed that they're rocket-propelled, and until the nature of these objects has been positively determined, we will be treating the situation as nothing less than a nuclear strike against our island."
Evan's breath caught in his throat at that statement, teeth biting a little harder into his lip. If this was an attack on the island, why were they all standing here, just waiting for the missiles to rain down on top of them? There were heroes on the island, X-Men, Avengers, and more. People who had made it their solemn duty to protect the weak and the innocent, all around him, here in this room alone. He was one of them. His Uncle Cluster had trained him to be a hero, he wanted to be a hero, and instead he was standing there, waiting for the bitter end like... like some sort of chicken after seeing the farmer walk into the coop with an axe in one hand.
… The analogy fell a little short, but it was the best that Evan could think up while there were missiles flying toward the island.
And during that entire reverie, the mayor continued speaking.
"--Urging Fandom's citizens to remain calm. If deadly force has in fact been turned against our home, be assured that we will retaliate. We will do what needs to be done to keep this island safe--"
Without so much as thinking, Evan was already reaching up to pull at his shirt, preparing himself to go out there himself if need be, to face the missiles down and to save the day. The gesture was interrupted with a solid bump to the shoulder, and he turned wide eyes toward the one who had jostled him, a classmate, who had apparently been talking excitedly to him, unnoticed.
"Crazy, isn't it?" The other boy looked irritatingly excited, like he didn't actually grasp what in the world was going on, here, the gravity of it all. "I mean, that we're just standing here, and like waiting for the missiles to come down on top of us all, boom boom boom, like it's the coming of the apoca-- uh." The boy hesitated at the hard look that Evan had put on his face, something strained from too many times being likened to the one who used that word as a name, back home. "... The nuclear holocaust. Whatever."
Evan opened his mouth for a reply that never came, just as he heard the mayor finish his own speech, back at the podium.
"And we're looking for volunteers, people who are able to hold their own against a possible nuclear strike. We're leaving immediately."
Evan didn't even bother to say a word. Didn't even think too hard on that nagging feeling that he had, that the mayor might not want him involved in something like this. He simply turned and joined the group of heroes that was gathering at the door.
-----
A few hours later, Evan was laying on the flat of his back in the park, still wearing his exo-suit, and grinning up at the sky as white powder fell down gently from above. He licked his lips, and then laughed a bit as another one of the rockets shot by overhead. Strapped to the rocket, there was a tiny penguin, only dangerous insofar as a penguin wearing a jetpack possibly could be. And in that penguin's flippers, as well as the flippers of the other dozen or so jetpack penguins that had traveled to the island with it, there was an endless bag of icing sugar, which it was using to create a light dusting of not-quite snow over the entire island.
"I think I kind of like this place," Evan noted, to nobody in particular, as he reached up one hand to dust himself off. "If this is their idea of the end of the world, I think I can live with that."
It wasn't Kansas, and he was pretty sure his Ma and Pa wouldn't quite approve of it, but it wasn't half bad, either.
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Alec surveyed his room and his roommate, luggage still heavy on his mattress as he processed all the new information he'd gotten since arriving at the picnic. One particular point of concern was still lingering in his mind.
"I guess I just don't see what there is to do around here," he said at last to the girl he was rooming with. "You mentioned a library..."
"There are bars," she supplied as she looked up from her computer, sounding less than interested. "Parties, sometimes. Occasionally invasions and enormous thunderclouds that almost wipe out the multiverse."
Alec blinked. "Sorry?"
"They never last too long," Natalie explained. She wasn't watching him and her voice was as neutral as it had been throughout the conversation, but Alec thought she might be attempting to be reassuring. It was close to the tone he would have used. "It's a resilient place."
Alec walked up and down the room, thinking. Jace called this his melodramatic pacing routine; Alec preferred to just think of it as thinking while standing up. And also moving. There had to be some basis in Shadowhunter mythology for movement as a way to stimulate thoughts.
...It was possible he was just openly fretting, now.
"But there are injuries still," he said, insistently. "Aren't there?"
Natalie made a noncommittal noise, but it was accompanied by a slight incline of her head that might have been a nod. "Got a clinic for them and everything."
"And you have mundanes fighting in these invasions?"
"Well," she said dryly, "it wasn't as though we were just going to sit around and wait for you and your friend to show up and put all our fighting skills to shame."
Alec wondered, not wholly charitably, how many lives she'd saved in her lifetime.
He sighed.
"I just don't see how the school administration can justify–" He cut himself off, stilling his movements. "Did you hear that?"
Natalie made a show of looking up from her homework. (She was doing homework? He'd thought they were having a conversation here) and peering out toward the door. "There's a boy upstairs who flails a lot," she supplied as she removed a headphone from her ear. "Often loudly."
"No," Alec said, taking one and then two cat-like silent steps in the direction of the door. "That's something else."
Slowly, very slowly and very quietly, he opened the door, to reveal –
-- a quartet of squirrels, outfitted in ponchos and what looked like pirates' hats, toting tiny mariachi instruments in their hands. He didn't know what song they were playing, but it was a horrible one.
"What."
Natalie leaned over to see what he was looking at. "Oh, them," she said, with the air of the very familiar. "They accept tips."
Alec put his head in his hands. "I need to find Jace," he said.