Hey! I did go back to it! And it’s nearly done now! (Here’s part one. It hasn’t got a title anymore though.)
Anyway, this continues to be a look at how IR would function in the ‘real world’, with some hopefully-satire thrown in. All the trigger warnings from Part One apply here too, I think.
PS: All the newspaper headlines mentioned in this fic are real.
That Steven Universe/Les Miserables fic is done! Who wants a read?
Rating: PG probably
Fandom: Steven Universe/Les Miserables, sort of
Summary: In order to impress Pearl, Mayor Dewey attempts a one-man production of famed musical Les Miserables.
Exactly what you would expect to happen, probably, happens.
Remember I said I’d write this? I wrote this! It’s also available on AO3.
Amy
When Amy Pond was nine years old, her art teacher presented a replica of Vase With 12 Sunflowers to the class, and asked every child to describe how it made them feel.
“Happy,” said most of the pupils, associating sunflowers with summer and sunshine and childhood.
“Sad,” said Mels.
Amy thought about it harder than anyone. “Proud,” she finally said.
“Why?” asked the teacher.
“I don’t know,” said Amy.
“Well,” the teacher said, smiling indulgently, “that’s not much good to anyone, then, is it?”
“Her name is on it,” Rory spoke up.
“Well spotted, Rory,” said the teacher. “But the Amy whose name is on here is a different Amy, who died a long time ago. She must have been a friend of Vincent’s.”
*
When Amy Pond was fourteen years old, she attended a talk at the local art museum. The subject was Van Gogh, his paintings and life.
Amy had not thought to dress up. Everyone else was in sensible clothes, suits, dresses. She was wearing a miniskirt. All eyes turned to her as she walked down through the rows of seats. Some of the glances were merely curious. Some were not.
The last available seat in the room was next to a middle-aged man who looked Amy up and down with obvious interest. Amy glared at him, did not adjust her skirt, and listened to the talk quietly and determinedly.
At the end, the discussion between the panelists turned to the mysterious inscription on Vase With 12 Sunflowers, and the woman’s name written there with love.
“It’s very likely that this Amy was a prostitute,” said one of the men.
*
When Amy Pond was nineteen years old, she and Mels went to Paris for a short holiday. After two days’ worth of Disneyland, Amy insisted on visiting the Louvre.
“You’re so boring,” Mels chided. “Just like an old lady.” But she came too.
When they got to the main gallery, it was packed with tourists and schoolchildren. All Amy could see was people’s backs, rather than the paintings she had come to get closer to. Mels elbowed a few people aside so that she could get a better view, but Amy realised she couldn’t be bothered. She felt incredibly disappointed, like she had suddenly been denied access to something belonging to her.
A young tour guide was giving a talk to a group of tourists, and she had reached Vase With 12 Sunflowers.
“People often ask who Amy was and the truth is we don’t really know,” the guide said. “But I like to think of her as a sort of…unattainable object for Van Gogh.”
“This is boring,” Amy said to Mels. “Let’s go.”
“Amy was his muse, his ideal of womanhood, perhaps…”
*
When Amy Pond was twenty-one years old, she went poking about in the TARDIS library.
“Amy,” said the Doctor, “I can’t help noticing you’re digging out all my books on Vincent Van Gogh. And some of those are from the thirtieth century, so do be careful with them.”
“I just want to look.”
“You want to look to see if you could have saved him,” the Doctor said gently, but (Amy thought) a little patronizingly.
“No,” said Amy.
“It’s understandable. You’ve suffered a lot of loss recently,” the Doctor said, before seemingly catching himself and saying, “Let’s go have some fun, eh, Amy?”
But Amy suddenly smacked the book she was reading with her fist, and stared at him with tears in her eyes. The Doctor hurried over to her, and as Amy tightened her fingers on his wrist they both stared at the text on the bottom of the page.
It is unlikely that “Amy” ever existed at all…she was most likely an imaginary figure concocted by Van Gogh to deal with his splintering reality...
*
When Amy Pond was twenty-three years old, she and her husband and her daughter and her Doctor visited the Great Galactic Art Gallery, which held fine paintings and artworks from every corner of the universe.
“Doctor,” she called to him with a slight gasp in her voice. He was giggling at a sculpture with River. “Doctor. Vincent is here.”
The Doctor came over and observed Vase With 12 Sunflowers, even brushing it with his fingertips a little. “See,” he said. “I told him.”
But even as he turned away Amy found that she couldn’t. She pressed the little red button by the side of the painting, and a speaker into which visitors could ask questions popped up. “What would you like to know?” asked a robotic voice.
“Who is Amy?” asked Amy.
“Historians do not know,” said the voice, “but they believe she must have been a woman loved by van Gogh.”
*
When Amy Pond was thirty-seven years old, she bought a framed copy of Vase With 12 Sunflowers and hung it up in the New York apartment. When the sun set, the light hit it just right.
“That’s pretty,” Rory said to her. “You always loved van Gogh, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Amy said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “Even met him once.”
Rory was eating a sandwich as he glanced at the painting, and Amy watched was amusement as his chewing suddenly slowed.
“Oh my god,” he said, after swallowing his food. “I remember we talked about it in school once. Vincent’s friend Amy. That’s you, isn’t it? You’re Amy!”
“Yes,” Amy said proudly. “I am.”
Title: A Summary of Events
Rating: PG13 I think
Fandom: Thunderbirds/Thunderbirds Are Go
Warnings: People being jerks about mental illnesses. People being jerks about political/equality issues. Looots of people being jerks. Er, swearing?
Notes: This is my favourite kind of fanfic to write – the mixed-media. It’ll probably run for two or three parts, and the title will make sense later is now a much better title. All names in this that you don’t recognise were grabbed from random writers/directors of the original series. Sorry to those who got their names given to complete arseholes.
Anyway! This is best described as ‘a look at how IR might function in the real world’ except obviously it’s not quite the real world because it’s several decades in the future and also after a war. I also hope it’s not Dark And Gritty, but rather Pointed And Vaguely Satirical.
*
From the Global News Web:
Amid growing fears re: sustainability and the protection of borders, the Global Defense Force is holding a televised, livestreamed hearing about the recent activities of International Rescue. Viewers can tune in on IBC, ITV, Sky, and Fox News to participate in the hearing.
As per standard policy, names of the GDF councilpeople shall not be given and faces shall be obscured via hologram in the courtroom. Colonel Francesca Casey shall not be attending any proceedings, as she has voiced her displeasure at this turn of events and has been placed on indefinite leave…
*
Hey, it’s Age of Ultron fic! Featuring the most minor of minor characters, naturally. And spoiler-tagged to heck.
*
My Hero, By Lila Barton
We are not allowed to write this essay about a family member and I think that is stupid because my dad is an actual hero and my mom looks after me and my brother and my baby brother which I think is good. [Lila, it is not nice to call anything stupid – Mrs A] Anyway I decided to write this essay about my aunt. She is not my real aunt, although I have a real aunt who lives in Canada, she is my dads best friend. She is also my moms best friend. When Mom thought her baby was going to be a girl she was going to name it Natasha but it turned out to be a boy so she called it Nathaniel. I like my new brother a lot but he doesn’t do much. Mr Rogers (not that Mr Rogers) came with Auntie Natasha and gave him a bunch of toys and I thought that was silly because he won’t play with them. When I said that Mom told me to show some respect but Mr Rogers just laughed and said I had a healthy attytude [attitude – Mrs A] to grown ups and that was nice.
Auntie Nat brings people to the farm a lot to talk with Mom and Dad. Sometimes she brings Mr Wilson and he is my favorite because he always has sweets and he plays video games with me and Cooper and I think he lets us win which is good because Cooper gets mad when he loses. Anyway one time Auntie Nat came she had another lady with her, who had brown hair and a red jacket, I didn’t know who she was but when she saw the baby she started crying and crying and crying and Mom and Dad and Auntie Nat were nice to her until she stopped crying and she had dinner with us and she left.
Mom says she is the sister of the man who died saving Dad. I forgot to mention that happened. Anyway that was sad but Auntie Nat was nice.
Another thing I remembered just now is when Jessica made fun of me for not having Dad at the father’s day show and we had that fight and Mom had to go to the principal’s office but she had to work and Dad was in England I think because of Thor so Auntie Nat went to see the principal and [this sentence is way too long, Lila – Mrs A] he was really scared of her and she told him Jessica was bullying me and everything was all right. Then she took me to get ice cream and she said that though getting back at people who hurt you feels good it‘s not good and she quoted lots of Star Wars at me and I laughed.
Also she was at the Battle of New York and saved a lot of people. [Maybe this should have been in your opening sentence – Mrs A] She has super abbilitys [abilities – Mrs A] and can kill monsters and robots. That is very good. Mommy says some bad things happened to Auntie Nat in her life and she is honest about them even to newspapers and I think that is good too because people should always tell the truth. But she is mostly my hero because she is nice to me and my brothers and lots of other people and she did not have to be because lots of people who have bad stuff happen are not nice. But she is. That is my essay. Signed Lila Nicole Barton aged 6
Ten years ago to the day, I started writing a Doctor Who fanfic called Turn of the Earth. I even made a whole lot of graphics/covers/etc for it, as fanfic writers did back then. You can see one up there; sadly it’s easily the best of the bunch.
Turn of the Earth was a gloriously jumbled affair about Mickey Smith and the briefly mentioned (in Boomtown) new girlfriend of his: Trisha Delaney. This fic was running concurrent to the actual series, so as Mickey got drawn further and further into the Doctor’s world, Trisha (who wasn’t even introduced til Part 3) took over as protagonist.
I loved Trisha so much. Russell T Davies, the writer of Boomtown, didn’t really have a lot to say about her. Just a brief description via Rose: “She’s nice. She’s a bit…big.” Mickey’s reaction was “She lost weight!” so I wondered if he actually liked this Trisha, and I decided he did. But what was she like? Why did she lose weight? What did she think of Rose? Did she feel like a rebound? And so on.
I don’t suppose Trisha meant more than a throwaway line to Russell T Davies, a quick plot device to show how far apart Rose and Mickey had grown (there’s even a cut line from The Parting of the Ways where Rose asks “How’s Trisha?” and Mickey says “Don’t care”) but once I started writing her, she meant the world to me. So did the people around her: Shareen Costello (another throwaway name you might remember from the series), her father, her mother, her brothers, her neighbours, and of course Mickey and Jackie. I wanted the Powell Estate and the people there to have lives, because (fairly or unfairly) I never really got the feeling Russell T Davies thought much of it or them.
I don’t know if I did or didn’t manage it, but I did give at least Trisha and Shareen lives, I think. They saw the world end – the Battle of Canary Wharf affected everyone, after all – but they survived. And they built a friendship that I think is actually the heart of the entire story, even though that wasn’t the intention at the beginning.
Stories about the people left behind on Earth while the adventure carries on someplace else are my favourite stories. (That’s probably why I latched onto Mickey so hard to begin with.) What does it mean, to be involved in the story, but have no control over it? Even now, watching the current series of Doctor Who, I wonder about Trisha and what she’s doing while the Cybermen invade, the dead rise, monsters stalk the street and so on. Canonically, Clara Oswald lives on the Powell Estate now. In my head, her and Trisha have met at least once, and liked each other. Shareen, who became a journalist in my story, has interviewed her at least once regarding UNIT. And they all lived happily ever after. No, they really did.
Turn of the Earth is on AO3 now (although obviously if you clicked the other link you’ll have seen that.) I thought it deserved to be there with my other ‘good’ fic. It didn’t even need much editing, to my surprise. Seventeen-year-old me apparently knew what she was doing. The only thing I took out was any reference at all to Trisha’s weight as a negative.
It’s done!
Title: Humanity In The Abstract
Rating: PG13
Fandom: Adventure Time
Characters: Simon Petrikov, Marceline, an anthropomorphic personification of mortality
Warnings: Discussion of suicide, insanity, and child death
Summary: On one particularly horrible post-apocalyptic night, Simon Petrikov meets Death for the first time.
1. Holmes smiled in that infuriating, though affectionate, way of his. “Ah, Watson, You need to polish up on your French. Grantaire – or grand R; capital R. An approprate moniker. And a clever man to adopt it. I do not think drink dulled his wits much, Léa.”
2. “Well, you were the one who shot me,” said the Master, in the manner of a petulant child. “You were a very very NAUGHTY girl, Lucy.” She said ‘naughty’ as if she was spitting out a tasty sweet.
3. “All my thoughts of war and glory, and I never considered the grief of my brother, or my uncle, or any of those who may have loved me,” Eowyn said. “It feels almost like a punishment now, that I feel what they might have felt, had I fallen. Alas for my uncle! And alas for the uncle my children will not know.”
evayna: (fic writing thing) Grantaire had a tendency to sprawl across his chair and onto the floor like drizzle on a cake, so it was just a matter of time before someone tripped over him.
Grantaire had never seen Enjolras do something as human and normal as fall over (he was, however, absolutely alone in that) so he just snorted and stayed where he was. Enjolras afforded him no more than a dirty look. Bossuet poked him with his foot.
“My guests are leaving their unwanted items on the floor again, I see,” Madame Hucheloup said. She had a broom in her hand, and she made a gesture as if she was going to place it squarely on his face.
[for the five-more-sentences-of-fanfic meme!]
THE CLARAFIC IS FINALLY DONE
Title: Ghosts
Rating: PG13
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Clara Oswald
Also starring: Danny Pink, the Maitlands, Courtney Woods, Kate Stewart, Martha Jones, Mickey Smith, the Child
Summary: The ghosts, dead and living, that haunt Clara Oswald.
Read on Ao3! or