Victor Van Dort (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
butterflyboy) wrote2011-12-26 10:00 pm
butterflyboy) wrote2011-12-26 10:00 pmEntry tags:
Winter Bingo 2011/2012, Card One
That time of year again!
Get your own CharLoft Winter Bingo Card at http://www.labarc.com/Bingo/
butterflyboy) wrote2011-12-26 10:00 pm
Get your own CharLoft Winter Bingo Card at http://www.labarc.com/Bingo/
casanova: Chick Magnet?
Notes: Inspired by the fact that Victor would have never guessed he'd have two women interested in him, let alone at the same time. The title comes from a trope to that effect on TV Tropes. Also, yes, I know these are showing up terribly late -- my muse went bye-bye for a LONG time.
Victor had no idea how this could have happened. It defied all sense, in his eyes. After all, he was Victor Van Dort – a skinny, overly-tall, overly-pale young man with rather feminine features and a lack of interest in most “manly” activities. Hardly the sort to make ladies swoon over him. In fact, most girls barely seemed to notice him at all – and the ones who did were very clear about his lack of suitability as a suitor. He’d thought for sure he’d spend his life either as a lonely bachelor or tied to someone who didn’t love him.
And now. . .now he’d had two kind, gentle, pretty young ladies express an interest in him. More than an interest, in fact – it was very clear both of them would not have minded being his wife. Even more incredibly, he’d had to turn their offers down, because he was in love with a third girl. And although he wasn’t sure how she felt about him romantically, said third girl was obviously not repulsed by his presence. In fact, she seemed to like him quite a lot. How could such a change be accounted for?
Maybe someone had slipped something into Secundus’s drinking water. . . .
ice princess: Defrosting
Notes: The instant I saw that prompt, I knew I had to do something about Alice. The basic idea (and the inspiration behind the title) comes from the trope "Defrosting Ice Princess," about a girl who initially seems cold and unapproachable, but who gradually warms up as you get to know her. That's how Alice looks to a lot of people who only know her by reputation -- cold and only good for killing monsters. Her friends (and beloved) know better, of course.
Most people who looked at Alice Liddell saw someone who was cold. Someone who seemingly couldn’t be bothered with love or even companionship. A girl whose life revolved around death, madness, weaponry, and killing. A girl who’d lost everything and thus had decided to seal off her heart in ice.
Victor Van Dort saw something different. He saw a girl who was uneasy around people, worried about getting too close for fear of losing them again. Someone who was hurt and wary and perhaps even a little shy. Someone who wasn’t all that different from him.
And when you got to know her, he discovered, you’d find that under that cold exterior – she was actually quite warm.
cozy: Perhaps It’s A TempraPedic?
Notes: I dunno what prompted this -- I guess I just wanted to do something with Alice not wanting to get out of bed. It's just a bit of mildly-fluffy silliness. The bit about the bedpan is a reference to a memory you can recover in "Madness Returns."
“Come, Alice, it’s time to get up.”
Alice wriggled deeper into the covers. “Oooh. . .this new mattress is entirely too comfortable. I’m never getting up again.”
“Never?” Victor repeated, looking down at his cocooned wife.
“Never ever,” Alice replied. “I like it here.”
“What about eating?”
“You can bring in food for me. Or maybe make a rabble of butterflies to do so. I’m sure you could manage.”
“I probably could, but. . .what about – bodily functions?”
“That’s what bedpans are for. As one of my nurses once told me.”
“. . .I really didn’t need to know that,” Victor grimaced. “But you really can’t stay in bed forever.”
“Oh? What’s stopping me?”
A wail went up from the nursery. Victor looked over at the door, then smirked playfully at Alice. “You try explaining to him why Mother wants to stay in bed all day.”
glowing: From An Interview With Mr. Victor Van Dort
Notes: Heh -- so, apparently, I got this same prompt last year (http://8butterflyboy8.livejournal.com/2623.html?view=6207#t6207), and completely forgot. And so wrote a rather similar story. Whoops? ^^; It's not the same as the previous prompt, though, and it's got an interesting twist to it -- this is the answer Victor gave when he was interviewed for an entomological journal once he'd become an established, respected Touched scientist. So if you don't mind reading about the glowing butterflies again, here's another take on the subject.
“Mr. Van Dort, anyone who’s seen your creations knows you’ve got a fascination with bioluminescence. In fact, some of your most famous Fabricated creatures are the glowing butterflies people now see in Wonderland Park. Why is that, exactly?”
“Well, most simply put, it’s because those glowing butterflies were my first indication I was a Touched. Not that I knew it at the time. . .”
“Oh?”
“Yes, it’s like this – once I came to Secundus, I started dreaming regularly about seeing glowing butterflies. The most beautiful butterflies in the world. And always, I would try to catch them – and I’d wake up before I could. Rather frustrating, as you might imagine. It wasn’t until the night before my Going Creative that I caught one, and then. . .it was simply incredible. It was like I knew everything in the world for one golden moment. Looking back, I think I can see how, the closer I came to my final breakthrough, the more often the dreams came and the longer they lasted. Maybe – maybe it was my mind getting itself ready for what was to come.”
“And that’s why you like making things that glow.”
“Oh, yes. I can’t help myself. Being able to see them light up the sky in reality. . .it’s amazing. And now, I get to catch them whenever I want.”
Author’s Choice: mirror: Playmate
Notes: . . .I honestly think this is one of the most depressing things I've ever written about Victor's childhood. You'll see when you read the fic.
“Would you like some more tea?”
“Yes, I would love some more tea!”
Victor smiled and poured the “tea” (actually some juice lent for the occasion by the chef) for his guest. He knew that a lot of the other children in the village would make fun of him for having a tea party. After all, that was something girls did in their playtime, not boys. But Victor didn’t mind, and neither did his guest. This was fun.
He checked on his other guests at the little table – his favorite stuffed cat and dog – then distributed little cakes to everyone. He happily scarfed his down, but his guest didn’t. “Aren’t you hungry?” Victor asked.
“Not right now. I might have it later.”
“Oh, all right.” Victor sipped his tea, then looked at his guest with a smile. “Having fun?”
“Lots! I’m so glad you invited me.”
“I’m glad too,” Victor said, then sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing much,” Victor replied, looking at his reflection in the mirror. “I just wish you could talk on your own sometimes.”
slippery: Lean On Me
Notes: This is another one that's like a previous Winter Bingo prompt: black ice (http://8butterflyboy8.livejournal.com/2623.html?view=7487#t7487). Victor has no luck with icy surfaces. This can also be seen as a sequel to one of the 100 Drabbles of Summer, ice (http://8butterflyboy8.livejournal.com/3392.html?thread=15168#t15168). Again, the area they're in is a reference to the area called "Icy Reception" in "American McGee's Alice." Victor should just be thankful there are no bottomless pits here.
“Oh!”
Victor crashed to the ground for the third time. “How are you supposed to walk in this place?” he demanded, not even bothering to try and get up right away.
“Very carefully,” Alice said, leaning up against the wall of the cave.
“It’s impossible! I don’t know how you do it!” Victor grabbed a nearby stalagmite and slowly began pulling himself back up. “I’m going to be all bruises by the time I get out of here.”
“You’re the one who so desperately wanted to keep out of the heat,” Alice said, sliding easily over to him and offering a hand up.
Victor gave her a look. “I know, but I didn’t realize it came with my legs betraying me even more than usual.”
Alice smiled and pulled him and close to her. “Well, that’s the nice thing about being here together – I’m always willing to be your crutch,” she said, slinging his arm around her back.
commercial: Hooked On Infomercials
Notes: I had to go meta-verse (that is, Victor knows he's a muse and he's talking to me) for this one. For some reason, he really does love silly commercials and infomercials. But to be fair -- he probably gets that from me. I actually used to watch the damn things (especially the ones about vacuum-sealing your food) for entertainment purposes when I was younger. ^^; Ah, the embarrassing secrets our muses get us to reveal. . . . Also, Whelpton Pills? Real. Along with a bunch of other ridiculous Victorian ads. (http://www.sensationpress.com/victorianadvertising.htm)
“I still don’t get why you like these so much.”
Butterfly Boy grinned at his mun. “Because they’re so ridiculously over the top. People in these ‘infomercials’ apparently can’t do the smallest thing by themselves. It really is like that site you like so much says – they’re too incompetent to operate a blanket!” He chuckled. “And some of the products they advertise! That pen necklace, for example – you think people had forgotten pockets exist.”
“Yeah, I know they’re silly. But really, if you want over the top advertisements, your own era has plenty of that. And I’m not even talking about the silliness that comes out of Secundus. I’ve seen actual Victorian ads. Whelpton Pills are pretty ridiculous.”
“That may be so – but the ones from your era have moving pictures and sound.”
“. . .This is true. Want to watch the one about sealing up your food vacuum-style next?”
toast: They Lie To You
Notes: This was inspired by Eddie Izzard's bit on toasters and how they lie to you. I imagine that, even in a world full of mechanical marvels, getting a decent-working toaster can sometimes be a pain.
“I don’t understand this! I thought electric toasters were supposed to make life easier!”
“I think you’ve been spoiled by Doc’s homemade version,” Alice said, watching as her husband glared at the appliance in question. “These mass-produced ones aren’t made with the same care.”
“I’m well aware of that,” Victor said, examining his underdone toast. “Either it comes out like this, or it comes out charred to a cinder. Doc’s sometimes had burnt bits, yes, but you could always depend it coming out more or less the way you wanted.” He sighed. “Sometimes I think they deliberately design them this way, so people will think they’re broken and buy new ones.”
“But they’re not going to buy new toasters from the same manufacturer – not if they think the first one sells lousy appliances,” Alice pointed out. “Do you think all toaster companies are in league with one another?”
“. . .Yes. Yes I do. Perhaps I’ll go and fill all their offices with bread-and butterflies. Or peanut-butterflies, those will stick to things and be even more of a nuisance.”
“I think it’s a better idea for you to just have some cereal for breakfast.”
feast: Big Eater, Big Problem?
Notes: I knew I wanted to do something about Victor's big eater tendencies here, but it took a while to get this into the proper form. Just showing off that everyone is still baffled as to how a skinny guy like Victor can pack away so much food. And a little of how it does have consequences (Doc can afford the extra food, but it's still not something he planned on).
Doc hadn’t thought that taking on another assistant would be a problem. After all, he could always use more help in the shop, and Victor seemed like a good kid. And for the most part, he’d been proven right. Victor was eager to learn, willing to please, and fascinated by science. And once you got past his shyness, he was also a fairly good conversationalist. All in all, he was a welcome addition to the household.
Unfortunately, he’d also proven himself to be a bit of a bottomless pit when it came to food.
Doc was frankly baffled by it. Victor was skinny as a rail – almost literally, in fact. How could he possibly eat so much? Where did it go? The kid wasn’t that active, was he? (Well, actually, he did do a lot of running around. . .but no, that couldn’t account for all of it.) It was a mystery – and an expensive one to boot.
Still, he reasoned, the increase in food costs was probably worth the extra company and pair of hands. If faced with a choice between having Victor or a full fridge, Doc would always pick Victor.
His stomach growled loudly.
Well. . .99% of the time he’d pick Victor.
commitment: A Perfect Moment
Notes: This kind of demanded a marriage-related prompt, and after some searching I realized I hadn't done Victor's actual proposal to Alice. So this is what you get. A picnic proposal isn't unique to this Victor -- one of my 30 kisses fics deals with a different universe's Victor doing the same (http://docsgirl.livejournal.com/557721.html#cutid1).
This was it. This was the big moment. Victor fiddled with the box in his pocket, willing the butterflies in his stomach to go away. He was pretty certain what Alice’s answer to his question would be, but – he couldn’t help being nervous. He’d been a worrier all his life – old habits died hard. And besides, there was always that tiny chance. . . .
Alice looked up from her teacup. “Victor? Is something wrong? You’ve seemed on edge all throughout this picnic.”
“I know, and I’m s-sorry,” Victor said, looking at her. “It’s just – I have something very important to ask you.”
Alice froze for a second, arresting the teacup in its path from the saucer to her lips. Then, suddenly, she grinned. “Oooh.” She set aside the cup and got in front of him. “Well, then, better ask it.”
“R-right now?” Well, obviously she knew what he was going to ask, but – he’d kind of hoped to build up to it a bit more. Say a few romantic things while he worked up the courage to actually speak the words.
“You never know when something might ruin the moment,” Alice said, and while her tone was light her eyes were rather serious. “Right here, right now, everything is perfect. And that’s just how I want to remember this.”
She had a very good point. The park – the city in general, really – was chaotic enough that you rarely got a truly perfect moment. You had to seize on it when you could. And really, she was right – how much better could this particular moment get? “Alice, will you marry me?” Victor promptly asked, pulling the ring out of his pocket and presenting it to her.
Alice beamed and held out her hand. “Yes, I will.”
Two minutes after he slipped the ring on her finger, they had to deal with a Boojum, but at least Victor knew the most important moment of the day hadn’t been ruined.
lines: Ink Blots
Notes: Just a quick and dirty shortfic about Victor's drawing skills. It's got to be really hard to draw in ink when you don't make pencil sketches first. Victor's probably gotten very good at hiding mistakes.
“I’ve always admired how well you draw with a pen.”
Victor looked up to see Alice leaning over him. “It’s really nothing special,” he said modestly. “Your pencil drawings are some of the best I’ve ever seen.”
“Yes, but there’s a reason I draw in pencil,” Alice replied. “It’s so I can erase if I should make a mistake. And my lines are never as clean and crisp as yours because of it. How do you manage to draw as well as you do when you go straight from imagining to ink?”
“Lots of practice,” Victor said, dipping his quill into the inkwell again and continuing with his sketch. “And knowing how to disguise my mistakes.”
“You make mistakes?”
“Let me put it this way – that cloud in the corner didn’t start as a cloud.”
hooks: Love To Hate You
Notes: Nell telling Victor that Alice has her hooks in him was the very first thing to come to mind when I thought of this prompt, so I ran with it. This is Victor post-Touched, trying to reconcile with his parents before they leave the city. It doesn't go well, mostly because they can't stop saying stupid things like this. Nell, why must you be so stubborn and dumb? The title is the title of a song I like, and I think it fits Nell's attitude here.
“This all really started when she got her hooks into you, didn’t it?”
Victor looked up from his tea, baffled. “What are you going on about now, Mother?”
“That Alice woman,” Nell snapped. “Dr. Brown might have been the one to bring you here and brainwash you in the first place, but it’s her fault you stuck around so long, isn’t it? She’s the real villain here! Perhaps she’s the one who’s playing havoc with your mind n--”
“Don’t.”
Nell stopped, stunned into silence by the sudden icy anger in her son’s voice. Victor leaned forward, glaring at her. “Don’t you say a word against her,” he continued, sounding quite the opposite of her usually shy, retiring son. “She’s the woman I love, and I assure you, she is not altering my mind. In fact, it’s only thanks to her that I’m able to talk to you with any sort of sanity at the moment. So leave her out of this.”
With that, he leaned back and sighed deeply. Nell studied him for a long moment. He looked himself again, but she could still see a bit of the madness lurking around his eyes. Miss Liddell was the one who was able to keep that at bay? To keep her son – mostly her son?
. . .Preposterous. Nell knew the truth. That girl had done something to him. And even if what Victor saying was correct –
Well, then Miss Liddell hadn’t done a good enough job.
by the fire: Pyrophobia
Notes: A sort-of silly piece dealing with the troubles one might have when you're worried about setting off one of your mate's phobias. This started out as a dialogue-only piece, but I thought it worked better with description and suchlike. The "cat knocking over a lamp started the fire" is from "American McGee's Alice" (and this Alice isn't A:MR compliant, so it is what actually happened), as is her Jackbomb. (Which has always confused me a bit, to be honest -- why would someone who suffered through a horrific house fire have a FLAMETHROWER weapon?)
“Victor, this is ridiculous. Light the fire already.”
“I – I’m fine, I just – the blankets are enough--” Victor stammered, huddling deeper under the covers.
“I know damn well the blankets aren’t enough,” Alice cut him off, scowling. “I can feel you shivering. And don’t go on about how warm I am. I can’t be that good a human hot water bottle.”
“I’m fine, really! I just – I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. You’ve told me how your p-parents. . . .”
Alice sighed. “Yes, I know. And I know how I am about being near fireplaces. But that fire was caused by a cat knocking over a lamp. Our lamps are out, and far away from the fireplace at any rate, and we don’t have a cat to knock them over. Besides, I’m cold too. I think I’ll be able to bear it.”
“You’re – you’re sure?”
That got him a full-on glare. “Victor, if you don’t get up and light the damn thing, I will. Come on, you’ve seen me using Jackbombs! I’m not that terrified of fire!”
Victor knew that she had a point. But the nasty look she’d sent him was making him feel sulky. He turned away. “. . .I was just trying to be sensitive of your feelings.”
He felt Alice’s hand on his shoulder. “I know, Victor, and I thank you. But there’s really no need to treat me like a china doll. Or for either of us to freeze.” She squeezed his shoulder lightly. “So get off your hinders and light a damn fire.”
Despite himself, Victor couldn’t hold back a smirk as he got up. “I love you too.”
young: Pretty Girls Make Me Nervous
Notes: I just wanted to do a silly piece about Victor and his oldest. The title's taken from a Prozzak song, "Pretty Girls," that I've always found amusing and quite Victorish. (I'd link you to an excellent Corpse Bride fanvid, but the creator made it private. :( ) I thought it fit.
Victor had decided long ago that Chester was his mother’s child. Sure, he had inherited practically all of his looks from Victor, but in personality, he was pure Alice. He was confident, brave, oftentimes a bit sarcastic, and sometimes a bit tactless. Everything about him seemed to be the opposite of what Victor had been like at his age.
Which is why Victor couldn’t understand why Alice insisted Chester was more like him than he thought. He’d seen his oldest child in action many times – Chester was a Liddell through and through in everything but looks. When you wanted someone who acted like a Van Dort, you went to Vincent. What was Alice seeing that he wasn’t?
And then, one day, Victor happened to be around when Allison Laidlaw came by for a friendly visit. Which meant he was around to see how his eldest reacted. Chester had spent most of the call either paler or pinker than usual, stammering over his words, and bumping into things whenever he moved, nearly breaking a vase.
Oh – that’s what Alice had meant when she’d said Chester really was a young Victor.
icy roads: I Thought I’d Lost You
Notes: Slightly dark fic this time around -- the first thing that came to mind was a carriage accident. I got the feeling they were coming back from a long trip somewhere (maybe something to do with Victor's entomology studies?), and then crash. The title comes from the end credits song from Bolt -- what can I say, it fit. (And yes, they're rescued shortly after the fic ends.)
“Ow. . .”
Victor sat up weakly, putting a hand to his head. It came back tinged with red. “Oh damn,” he mumbled, wincing and wiping it off in the snow. “That’s not good.”
He looked around carefully. The carriage was tipped over on the side of the road, baggage scattered around it. One suitcase had burst open and had spilled its contents all along the small slope. One horse was standing nearby, sporting a cut on its flank – the other was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it broke loose after we hit that icy patch? Victor thought, slowly getting to his feet. So much for Dr. Carter’s non-slip wheels–
And then he saw her. Lying still in a snowbank not far away.
The blood froze in Victor’s veins. No. Oh no no no no, he thought, ignoring the wound in his head as he desperately scrambled over the drifts to her. I can’t – she can’t be – Oh God, don’t do this to me. You know what’ll happen if she dies, especially like this–
Her eyes opened as he leaned over her. “Argh. . .I thought these – Victor!”
She sat up and grabbed his head. “Damn it, you’re bleeding! What happened?”
“I think you know as much as I do,” Victor said, smiling in relief as he felt her over for injuries. She didn’t seem to have any broken bones, thank God. “The road was icy, the carriage went out of control--” He pointed back at the overturned vehicle. “And now, here we are.”
“Ugh, you’d think – stop poking me, I’m just bruised,” Alice told him, frowning. “The snow must have cushioned my fall. It’s your head that I’m worried about. I know forehead wounds bleed like the dickens without being serious, but still. . .follow my finger, let’s make sure your brains aren’t scrambled any further.”
“I think it’s just a cut,” Victor said, though he did as she asked. “We should have bandages somewhere in our baggage. And hopefully we can use the horse to get back to civilization.” He abruptly hugged her tightly. “I’m just glad you’re all right. When I saw you lying there. . . .”
Alice hugged him back, then kissed his (non-bloody) temple. “Victor, it would take a lot more than a carriage accident to separate me from you.”
drunk: Wine of Babbling, Instead of Ages
Notes: After making sure this wasn't a repeat from the 100 Drabbles of Summer, I decided to make this prompt about what happened the first time Victor got drunk. I always found it amusing to make him a little chatterbox when drunk. . .
“Oooh, my head. . . .”
“Finally back with us, Victor?”
Victor blinked blearily a few times, then managed to focus on the face of Mayhew, leaning over him. “What happened?” he asked, trying to ignore the way his own voice seemed to be trying to crack his head open.
“I tried introducing you to a good ale last night – thought it might relax you some,” Mayhew said, half-smiling. “It did its job a little too well, I think.”
“What? Why?”
“Don’t remember? You were babbling on all over the place about anything that popped into your head. You must have tried to tell me your life story twice over.”
He had? Victor tried to remember, pushing past the headache. Yes, if he thought about it, he did sort of remember talking and talking, the alcohol making him believe that whatever he said was pure gold. . .
Wait. His life story – had he told Mayhew –
The thought was like having a bucket of cold water dumped on him. He stared up at Mayhew, wondering if he dared ask. “M-Mayhew. . .did I – did I say anything h-horribly embarrassing about w-when I was f-fifteen?” Please say no please say no I couldn’t bear the shame the pity –
“Nah, you just told me how sad it was Scraps had to go like he did,” Mayhew said, patting his head. “Nothing about – well, I’m sure you know.” He winked.
Victor managed a smile. Yes, he did know. And thankfully, Mayhew didn’t. His secret was still safe. “Mayhew?”
“Yes, Victor?”
“I think I’m just going to have the o-occasional glass of champagne from now on.”
“Good idea.”
Notes, continued: Funny, right? Allow me to possibly change the tone. Read it again, now knowing this tidbit of information:
Victor didn't want Mayhew to know about his suicide attempt at fifteen.
Reads a little differently now, huh? (At least, I think so.)
Re: drunk: Wine of Babbling, Instead of Ages
Victor: *hic* Mayhew, man, life's been the craziest. Amirite?
Mayhew: Victor? Are you sure you haven't been drinking a little too much of that stuff, mate?
Victor: Nonsense, Mayhew! Okay, so I'll start telling you my life story. But you have to pay attention! Promise?
Mayhew: *sigh* Okay, okay, promise.
Victor: *hic, clears throat and begins to rap* Now, this is a story all about how my life got flipped turned upside down and I'd like to take a minute just to sit right there. I'll tell you how I became a wealthy fish merchant's only son and heir. *humming the instrumental between hics and dancing in place*
Mayhew: *laughing* Victor, this is--
Victor: *continuing on* In West side of Burtonsville, born and raised. Drawing butterflies was how I spent most of my days.
Mayhew: *more serious* Victor.
Victor: Chillin' out, maxing, relaxing all coo-
Mayhew: Victor.
Victor: All playing that piano outside of--
Mayhew: VICTOR.
Victor: I whistled for a cab and when it came near, the licence plate said 'Fresh' and had a dice in the mirror. If anything I could say that this cab was rare, but I thought nah forget it, yo homes to Bel Ai--
Mayhew: VICTOR. WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU BABBLING ON ABOUT? THAT PART WASN'T EVEN YOUR LIFE STORY. YOU ARE DRUNK. JUST CALM DOWN, GO HOME, AND TAKE IT EASY! GOOD GOD, RELAXING YOU WAS THE WHOLE POINT!
Victor: *staring blankly for a while, then continuing after like 10 seconds* I pulled up to the house at about seven or eight and yelled to the cab, "Yo homes, smell ya later!"
Mayhew: *facepalm*
ONE THOUSAND APOLOGIES. I AM SO, SO, SO, SO, SO, SO, SO SORRY. I COULD NOOOOT RESIST.
Re: drunk: Wine of Babbling, Instead of Ages
Re: drunk: Wine of Babbling, Instead of Ages
hay: Know Your Customer
Notes: Just a funny little piece about a salesman who really should have let Victor get a word in edgewise.
“Er – hello?”
“Hello, sir! Might I trouble you for a moment of your time?”
“Um--”
“Wonderful! Now I see you have a fine stable over there, with a fine horse inside, I’m sure! And a fine horse needs only the finest food! Here I have a sample of--”
“Oh, no thank you, we don’t need anything.”
“Nonsense! You won’t find a finer crop of hay anywhere in this whole city! It’s been modified to grow faster, with more nutrients, then any other hay around! Horses who eat this hay are healthier, faster, and all around better! Go ahead, let me try a sample on your beast!”
“No, you see--”
“Right in here, is he?”
“Yes, but he isn’t--”
“Just trust me! This hay is the finest hay anyone could ever grow and cut! He’ll love it!”
“I assure you he won’t, because--”
“Oh, come on, what’s so wrong with your – your--”
“Yes, you see, butterflies don’t typically eat hay. Now, if you were selling a new and improved form of nectar. . . .”
Northern Lights: Light Up The Sky
Notes: The instant I saw this prompt, I knew I wanted to write something about the night sky one sees in the Tundraful level of "Alice: Madness Returns." It's absolutely gorgeous and fits the prompt perfectly.
It's also exceedingly hard to put into words, as I soon discovered. It took me days to get this into a form I liked even a little. Do yourself a favor and look up "Tundraful" on Google or YouTube and see the "real" thing. It's worth it.
Science note -- what Alice describes Lewis saying is all part of how the aurora borealis works. Look it up on Wikipedia. Also, the title comes from a song I rather like by The Afters.
“Oh my God. . . .”
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Alice smiled. “Lewis got the idea after hearing some stories from arctic explorers about the night sky at the poles. Something called the aurora borealis. He figured there had to be a way to recreate it here.”
“It’s--” Victor stared up at the ribbons of vivid green twisting their way across the night sky, like the smoke trails of unearthly cigarette. Here and there, they were edged with faint pink, or dissolved into blooms of bright blue. Behind them, the stars twinkled in a vast expanse of midnight black. It was beautiful beyond words. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I imagine you say that a lot in Secundus,” Alice teased.
“Well, y-yes, but. . .this is something else. And Lewis did this all on his own?”
“Yes. He said it was all a matter of charging the right particles and exposing them to magnetic winds and – I’m afraid I don’t understand most of it, but it’s something to do with getting atoms all excited and then calming them down.”
“It’s all right. I don’t know if I want to know exactly how he pulled it off.” Victor felt his mouth stretch wide in a smile as he watched the light show above. “Science is wonderful.”
aunt: Long-Lost, Newly-Found
Notes: Yes, Victor has an aunt in my headcanon. Nell's the older of two sisters from a rather poor family. Nell basically disowned them the minute she could, as Elaine says here. Elaine herself works hard as a washerwoman, but she's happy enough with her husband and three kids. And fortunately for Victor, she doesn't seem nearly as prejudiced as her sister. (Also, no idea where Victor is except that it isn't Secundus -- maybe he's in London for some sort of entomology thing?)
“Oh! Do excuse me, I didn’t see you there.”
“That’s quite all--”
The woman stopped as she got a good look at Victor’s face. After a moment of intense scrutiny, Victor began to feel uneasy. “Er, m-may I help you?”
“You look familiar. . . .” The woman murmured. “Your last name’s not Van Dort, is it?”
Victor blinked, surprised. “Er, yes.”
“Related to William Van Dort?”
“Yes, I’m his son.” Not that he chooses to acknowledge that anymore. . . .
The woman gasped. “Victor! Goodness, I would have never expected to meet you here! You are tall, aren’t you? Just like the rest of the family. Not that I know much about them. . . .”
“Beg pardon?” Victor said, now completely baffled. “Who are you?”
“I’m your aunt! Elaine Butler – well, Cobbler now. Your mother’s sister – not that she cared to acknowledge my existence in public once she landed her rich husband,” the woman added, scowling. “Nell always had a big head. But she deigned to send the occasional letter and picture our way. I always did want to meet you properly.”
“Oh! Dear me, I’m – I’m glad to meet you,” Victor said, astonished. “Um – how are you?”
“Just fine, dear, and quite happy to see you in the flesh! We should get together and have a proper chat sometime.”
“I’d like that,” Victor replied, though inwardly he was quite nervous. How would his aunt respond to hearing that he was Touched? Was he going to be rejected by yet another family member? Then again, he’d never know unless he took the chance. “How about coffee on Thursday? At that little shop around the corner?”
“Sounds wonderful. I’m quite eager to hear all you’ve been up to. Your name was in the paper a while back – said you were credited with saving Secundus! Was that you, or are there other relatives Nell hasn’t bothered to tell me about?”
Victor couldn’t help a laugh. “That was me.”
“Goodness, you saved an entire city?! Then why did Nell stop mentioning your name in her letters? Was it just because the city was full of mad scientists? I think it’s even more a feat you managed to save Touched.”
“That, Aunt Elaine, is a story best told over a lot of coffee and donuts.”
tango: Dancing Lessons
Notes: Another fic about Victor and his dancing ability or possible lack-thereof. Alice's theory in this fic is my own -- Victor's actually pretty good on his feet when he's not all stressed out. The dance with the chess people was covered in Come And Join The Dance (http://8butterflyboy8.livejournal.com/2252.html?view=5324#t5324) from last year.
“Oh, dear, I didn’t actually get your foot, did I?”
“No, but it was a rather near miss,” Alice said, looking down to where Victor’s left foot had just clipped her right boot. “And I think it’s a good thing that I’m wearing very thick shoes.”
Victor shook his head, cheeks pink with embarrassment. “I’m s-sorry. I don’t know why you’re so sure I can learn this. Dancing has never been my s-strong point.”
“You did fine that time the Chess people invited us.”
“Yes, but they don’t care all that much whether you’ve gotten the steps perfectly or not. If I fell there, everyone just laughed and helped me up. R-regular people are much less forgiving.”
“Maybe so, but I still think you can do this. You danced the Lobster Quadrille just fine.”
“Yes, but you can walk your way through that–”
“Victor.” Alice met his eyes. “You know what your problem is? You overthink every movement. When you’re not worrying about every little step, then. . .well, try just listening to the music instead of thinking about where your feet should go. You know the steps – just let yourself do them.”
“I – I don’t know if I can. . . .”
“Try.” Alice pulled him a little closer. “I really think you can do this if you just stop worrying.” She grinned at him. “Come on, what harm will it do?”
Victor thought briefly about listing a few ways, starting with stepping on her foot and ending with knocking her to the floor. But he recognized the look she wore – she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “All right,” he said. “L-let’s try again.”
Alice grinned and restarted the phonograph. Victor closed his eyes and did his best just to concentrate on the music. At first it was hard, and he kept stumbling as he thought about his feet and where they should go. But, after a while, it became easier to just focus on the tune and let his body move as it would. And to his shock, Alice was right.
When he wasn’t worrying about every step – he could almost be graceful.
melt: Ice Princess No More
Notes: This is sort of a sequel to the "ice princess" prompt from Alice's perspective. Examining Victor through Alice's eyes is always rather fun. She never quite gets how he can be the one who makes her go weak at the knees. But she doesn't mind because he's such a sweetheart. :) Just some fluffy goodness, I suppose.
What was it about him that got past all her defenses?
Alice had to wonder this as she looked at the young man in front of her. He wasn’t really anyone special, was he? He was tall, yes, and incredibly thin, but those traits didn’t really mean anything. What mattered was his personality. And when it came to that, well – he was shy, easily startled, and had a tendency to stutter. He seemed constantly surprised by everything around him (of course, one could forgive that – he was new to Secundus). He barely met your eyes while talking, and he always acted like he should apologize for just existing. Alice had thought that would end up getting on her nerves. And to be honest, it did sometimes, just a little.
And yet. . .He was so gentle as well. So polite and unassuming and unprejudiced. He was willing to give anyone a chance to be friends. And Alice could see in him a sort of deeply-buried excitement – a lust for color, for life, that had nearly been crushed into oblivion, but was now slowly reviving in this world of mad science. There was a vitalness to him that she rarely saw in Regular people. And – though it rarely came out – there was something about his smile. . . .
Alice still didn’t know just what it was about him that affected her so strongly. All she knew was, whenever he was around, the ice she’d tried to encase herself in – just seemed to melt.
ghost of Christmas past: Repeating the Past
Notes: This one actually just hit me upside the head one day as the perfect answer to this prompt. Victor naturally would feel weird about having a son who looks so much like him, and watching the kid grow up -- well, comparisons to his own childhood, and to his parents, were inevitable. AND this fic is where I finally get to properly introduce Victor and Alice wanting to have more than one kid! Score!
“All right, what’s got you staring at your son as if you’ve never seen him before?”
“Nothing,” Victor said, not taking his eyes off Chester as the little boy unwrapped another present. “The whole reason I’m staring is because I have seen him before. In the mirror.”
“Ah, struck again by that? Honestly, I’m shocked you can remember what you looked like at two years old,” Alice commented.
“My mother has pictures. . .and it’s more that – I very vaguely remembering doing just what he’s doing when I was two,” Victor said slowly, as Chester exulted over the toy butterfly his father had built him. “And with him looking so much like me – it’s like I’m s-seeing myself, in the past. I keep half-expecting my mother and father to suddenly appear on our couch.”
“I hope they don’t,” Alice said, sending a glare toward the invisible couple. She touched Victor gently on the arm. “Does it bother you?”
“It – it makes me w-worry,” Victor admitted, voice low. “That I’m going to make the same mistakes they made.”
Alice squeezed his arm. “You won’t. I know you, and you’re not a thing like Nell or William Van Dort. Chester is going to have a much better childhood than you ever had. I promise.”
Victor finally tore his eyes away from his son to look at her. A smile appeared on his face. “Thank you.”
“Daddy!” Chester toddled over and tugged on Victor’s pants leg. “Make it work!”
Victor obligingly wound up the butterfly and sent it flying around the room. He watched his son scramble after it for a long moment. “Alice?” he finally said.
“Yes?”
“D-do – do you think a second child would look more like me or like you?”
Alice grinned. “I think we should find out.”
spoon: All Hail The Spoon!
Notes: Just a silly piece featuring a sleep-deprived Victor. The "spoon as a battle cry" bit is a reference to "The Tick," while "Spoony" is a shout-out to the internet reviewer of the same name on ThatGuyWithTheGlasses.com.
“Do you know what’s a funny word?”
“What?”
“Spoon.”
“Spoon’s funny?”
“Spoon’s really funny! Spoooon. Spoon. Spoon. You say it enough times and it stops making sense!”
“Really.”
“Yes! Think about it. Spoon. It really doesn’t mean anything. It’s just what we named a certain utensil. We could have used it as a battle cry if we wanted.”
“. . .A battle cry?”
“Why not? Imagine how confused and frightened the enemy would be if we came charging down the hill at them shouting ‘SPOOOOON!’”
“Confused, certainly. . . .”
“Or we could use it as a name! Spoon. Spoony! Good for a boy or a girl! Though I get the feeling it would go better with a boy. . . .”
“All right, Victor, I’m taking this as an object lesson. No matter how much you plead with me, never let you stay up for more than two nights in a row to finish a project. Come on, we’re going to bed.”
“Spoonerfly!”
“Later!”
drummer: So Long To Sunshine
Notes: This was nearly a very different story. When I first came up with matching the prompt to the idea of rain drumming on a carriage roof, this was originally Victor's funeral. The story was going to be an AU "what-if" about what would have happened if Victor hadn't gone to Secundus. Just because he never ends up surrounded by Mad Science doesn't mean he doesn't go Creative, you see. I couldn't write it in the end and instead switched to doing Lewis's funeral. Poor guy -- I'm so sorry you had to die for my plot.
The rain drummed down on the top of the carriage as it pulled up to the cemetery gates. Looking out, Victor wondered if someone with a weather machine had specifically programmed it to match everyone’s mood. Rain really was only appropriate for funerals, after all.
He shook his head and looked at his companions in the cab. “I can’t believe you haven’t done this already.”
Alice put her hand on his wrist. “He would have wanted you to be there,” she said softly. “It didn’t seem right not to have you.”
“Besides, we never did find his body,” Doc said, voice just as hushed. It was so odd to hear him speak so quietly. Doc was supposed to be loud and boisterous, not soft and subdued. “There was nothing we had to bury. And even if we had, you know we would have tried a couple of times to bring him back. Nothing unusual about holding a funeral this late at all.”
Victor nodded, feeling a chill deep in his heart. No, nothing unusual about the funeral, he supposed. Apart from the fact that there was a funeral at all. “It’s not fair,” he mumbled.
“Not much is in this life,” Alice said, with the voice of someone who knows very well just how unfair the world can be.
Marty opened the door with a deep sigh. “Come on, guys. We shouldn’t keep the others waiting.”
“No, we shouldn’t,” Victor agreed, following him out.
The rest of their friends were already gathered at the spot they’d chosen earlier in the week. Victor looked through watery eyes at the simple gravestone, marking a unfound, unburied body. How could this be happening? How could – why did he have to –
Alice pulled him close, spotting the telltale traces of guilt in his eyes. “Please, Victor. It wasn’t your fault.”
Everyone kept telling him that. Only when she said it did he really believe it. “I’ll try to remember that,” he whispered back, squeezing her tight against him.
Father Gale, seeing everyone was assembled, opened his book. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to say goodbye to the soul of Lewis Lutwidge Carroll. . . .”
dreaming of a white Christmas: Baby’s First Christmas
Notes: And we end this card on a bit of fluff. Chester's born November 5th, so yes, he wouldn't exactly be truly conscious of his first Christmas. The mention of the snow possibly being vanilla ice cream is a callback to Day Five of "A Week of Secundus Christmas" (http://docsgirl.livejournal.com/707732.html#cutid1) -- every year, Flint makes it snow ice cream all over the town. Victor is very much in favor of this. XD Anyway, onto the sweetness (uh, no pun intended).
“Look, Chester! It’s snowing!”
Chester gurgled in his little bundle of blankets. Victor chuckled. “Yes, I know,” he said, leaning over his son. “You’re not even two months old yet. All you care about is when the next meal is coming.”
“No, I think he cares about more than that,” Alice said, joining them at the window of the nursery. “He also cares about getting his diaper changed on time.”
“Yes, true.” Victor looked out at the white flakes drifting down outside his window. (Actual snow, or vanilla ice cream? Either was acceptable to him.) “Still, he doesn’t know what snow is yet. Or that it’s Christmas tomorrow.” He looked back down at the newborn. “Your first Christmas, and you don’t even know it’s a holiday,” he said teasingly.
Chester reached up a tiny hand to him. “He doesn’t have to know,” Alice said, giving him a finger to grasp. “It’s enough that we know.” She looked over at Victor with a smile. “Our first Christmas as three, not two.”
“Yes, I--” Victor stopped as he saw the tears in her eyes. “Alice? Are you all right?” he asked, immediately concerned.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, blinking rapidly. “I just – for years, I thought I’d never have a family Christmas again.”
Victor nodded slowly. “Well, now you are,” he said, leaning against her. “In fact, you’ll have so many, you’ll probably get sick of them by the time he’s eighteen.”
Alice laughed and kissed his cheek. “I could never. I love you, Victor.”
“I love you too, Alice. Merry Christmas.”
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