Winter Bingo: Card One, Row Three Plus Two
Inspiration
Prompt: luminaries
Time Period: In the latter chapters of "Secundus," before Victor's actual breakthrough
Notes: Yes, me with the glowing butterflies again. I LIKE the glowing butterflies. Besides, when I looked up the word and found that it meant "people who inspire" as well as "sources of light," I had to do a fic that hit on both definitions. Also, the title is a nod towards "Genius: The Transgression," a fanmade World of Darkness supplement about mad scientists that I was interested in at the time. Geniuses are said to be filled "with the light of Inspiration."
It had to be the result of living in Secundus, Victor decided one morning while washing his face. Probably everyone who lived here and wasn’t already a Touched had dreams like the ones he’d been having lately. It was only natural, when one was surrounded by men and women who could bend the laws of physics, biology, and chemistry to their whims. Such things had to rub off on one.
And it was obvious he’d be affected more than the average person out on the street. He lived with a Touched and his Igor – hell, he probably qualified for Igor status himself at this point. And all of his friends were either Touched or close friends with Touched themselves (if not the result of their experiments). His days were filled with the sort of science that led to the creation of wonders – time travel theory, chemical drink mixtures, engineering for artificial limbs, and a thousand other things. Really, when he thought about it, it would be stranger for him not to have the dreams.
And yet. . .Victor couldn’t shake that niggling feeling that the glowing butterflies that haunted his nights were much more important than he realized.
One Door Closes. . .
Prompt: Janus
Time Period: Post-"Secundus," New Year's Eve
Notes: Janus, for those not in the know, is the Roman god of doorways, beginnings and endings, and time. He's where we get the month of January. This fic basically just came to me as a good way of seeing my favorite couple into the New Year.
“Almost midnight!”
Alice turned and grinned at her husband as she finished pouring the champagne. “I’ve always liked New Year’s Eve,” she continued, going over and handing him his drink. “It’s an exciting moment for me, going into the new year. Everything seems ripe with possibility.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Alice frowned. Victor didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic. He was slouched over on the couch, staring absently into space. She’d expected him to be a little excited at least. “Is something wrong?” she asked, sitting next to him.
“N-no! I–” He stopped as she gave him her best “I know you’re lying” look and sighed. “It’s just been such a strange year for me,” he admitted, looking down into his drink. “When last New Year’s came around, I thought the most exciting thing that was going to happen to me was an arranged marriage. Instead I found myself accidentally kidnapped by a flying steam train, taken to the Mad Science Capital of the World, and meeting so many wonderful people – including the love of my life,” he added with one of those warm smiles that never failed to send a tingle down her spine.
Then it vanished, leaving him with a rather haunted look. “And then – g-going Creative, and f-fighting the Queen of Hearts, and – and finding Lewis d-dead, and l-losing my parents. . . .” His eyes went to the floor as he took a deep, steadying breath. “I w-would like to say this was the b-best year of my life, but – there’s b-been a lot of b-bad in it.”
Alice watched him, feeling a rush of sympathy. She knew what he was feeling – losing Lewis had been hard on her too. He’d been her friend for ages – losing him had felt rather like losing another family member, ripping open a lot of old wounds. (Not to mention all the awkwardness and horrible things that had resulted from the events surrounding his death. . . .) And she knew what it was like to go mad, and to lose two of the most important people in your life.
Except – she didn’t, not quite. Victor’s madness was a different strain from her own. She was familiar with Touched, yes, but she had no idea what it was like to be one. Catatonia and manic creativity were about as different as chalk and cheese. And the loss of her parents had been a tragic accident. The loss of his. . .how could she ever comprehend what it was like to be rejected by one’s own parents? For something one couldn’t even help? She sighed. No wonder Victor felt a little morose.
But she knew something else – even if she couldn’t hope to understand all Victor had gone through, she could help and support him. She reached out and placed a hand on his back. “Yes, there’s been a lot of bad this year,” she agreed softly. Then she smiled hopefully. “But I rather think the good outweighs it. After all, even with everything that happened, you found a home here. You found friends who would do anything for you. And I – I found you.”
Victor looked up at her. Slowly, he smiled back and nodded. “That’s very true,” he said. “And I know as long as I have you, this new year will be wonderful, no matter what.”
Alice felt herself getting a little misty-eyed. She raised her glass as the clock in the corner began chiming midnight. “Out with the old. . . .”
“And in with the new,” Victor completed, clinking his glass against hers, before leaning in and kissing her.
Better Than A Blanket
Prompt: Free Square: Author’s Choice – warmth
Time Period: Post-"Secundus," just after the honeymoon
Notes: Random little fluffy piece. The idea for the Author's Choice just came to me – we have a couple of prompts about the cold, so why not one about warmth? And Victor getting cold easily at night is a headcanon I've had about him for a while.
Victor never knew why he tended to get so cold at night. Keeping himself a comfortable temperature never seemed to be a problem in the daylight. But at night, no matter how many covers he piled on himself, it seemed he always woke up shivering at least once. Even in summer, he generally needed a blanket. He tried hot water bottles, bedwarmers heated in the fire – even, upon coming to Secundus, one of those newfangled self-heating blankets. Nothing quite seemed to work.
Then, upon marrying Alice, he found that he was sleeping a little better than he had in the past. Puzzled by this at first, it didn’t take him long to find out the cause. His beloved wife was kind and intelligent and had a wonderful sense of humor –
But, most importantly for his bed, she was warm.
An Oddity of Pigmentation
Prompt: blue
Time Period: Post-"Secundus"
Notes: I was gonna write something about Victor's beloved butterflies, but then this popped in as a more interesting option. Besides, it's a valid question.
“Er, Emily? Do you mind if I ask you a – a p-possibly personal question?”
Emily turned to Victor with a smile. “Not at all. What is it?”
Victor fiddled a bit with his tie. He felt odd, asking this, but part of him just had to know. “Well, I’ve always w-wondered – do you know w-why your skin is – blue?”
Emily looked down at her one fleshed hand, examining it for a moment. “Sort of,” she said. “I asked Dr. Finklestein about it a day or two after he brought me back – once I’d gotten over the shock. He went into a rather long explanation I didn’t quite understand. Something about a ‘pigmentation change due to the reanimation process.’ I think that means the way he resurrects people turns them funny colors.”
Victor frowned. “One would think he’d try to fix that.”
“I don’t think he cares,” Emily said. Holding up her skeletal hand, she added, “Especially given the sort of dead he tends to resurrect. Having oddly-colored skin wouldn’t bother Bonejangles or Jack, after all.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Victor allowed. “Still. . .does it bother you at all?”
“It did at first,” Emily admitted, putting her hand down and twiddling her thumbs. “But as I got to know Sally and the others, it seemed less important. And after meeting you and your friends. . . .” She tilted her head, looking suddenly worried. “It’s never bothered you, has it? My being blue?”
Victor grinned at her. “Emily, one of my dearest friends – and your boyfriend, may I add – is green. I asked merely because I was curious.” He looked thoughtfully off into the distance. “Though, speaking of which, I have wondered why Richard’s skin is green.”
“Oh, I already asked him about that,” Emily said. “Apparently he has a rather – odd reaction to high doses of mercury.”
Our Trolls Are Different
Prompt: lawn ornament
Time Period: Just post-"Secundus"
Notes: Discworld crossover! This was going to be a "Wallace & Gromit" crossover, but then I decided I liked this idea better. I wanted to put these guys in the main narrative, but I don't think I'll find the space around the main story, so it was good to use them here. The title comes from the TV Tropes page of almost-the-same name.
Victor peered at the little pile of rocks sitting on the yard outside the house. Something about it had caught his attention as he passed by – he wasn’t sure what yet, but he was determined to find out. “What an odd-looking thing to have on one’s lawn,” he murmured to himself.
“Oh, actually, that’s an infant troll.”
Victor jerked his head up to see a man in a strangely-colored shirt and vest grinning at him. “A what?”
“A troll!” the man said again. “They’re a silicon-based life form – that’s why they look like rocks. They were Created for a colder climate, and they’re primarily nocturnal, so they tend to sleep during the day. Many a miner has been digging for precious metals, only to find a strong hand strangling the life out of them for disturbing its beauty sleep.”
Victor nodded slowly. The man’s smile as he related that information was a little disturbing. “I, ah, see. H-how do you know all this?”
“It was all in my travel guide!”
“Travel guide?”
“Yes. I first came here as a tourist,” the man explained. “I didn’t expect to stay long – I just wanted to see the city everyone talked about, and maybe have some life-changing experiences I could tell the others back home. Then I met Rincewind!”
“Rincewind Pratchett?” Victor guessed. Even back in Burtonsville, he’d heard stories about Rincewind. The man had a talent for getting himself into horrible, life-threatening trouble no matter how much he said he wanted a normal, boring life. (Victor wondered what he was doing living in Secundus if that was the case.)
“Yes! He’d recently come here after leaving Unseen University – you know, that university for Sparks and Igors? He and I had some amazing adventures, and after all was said and done, I couldn’t bring myself to leave.” The man grinned. “I’m so glad we met. He’s such a good friend.”
“Twoflower! Get in here and stop your Luggage from stealing all my crisps!”
“Coming! Good day to you, sir!” The man – Twoflower – turned to go.
“Just a moment – why do you have an infant troll?” Victor called after him.
“Oh, the Luggage burped it up. We’re just looking after it until I can convince Rincewind that a trip into the mountains to return it really is worth the trouble.” Twoflower gave him a wave and disappeared inside the house.
Victor watched him go, then looked back at the little pile of rocks. Sure enough, if he looked very closely, he could see a slight tremor going through it, as if it were breathing. He shook his head and continued onward, back into the main part of the city. “Never know what you’ll see in Secundus. . . .”
Not Alone
Prompt: daughter
Time Period: Post-"Secundus 2," teenage children era
Notes: This story has been with me in some form ever since I was planning Secundus. I always knew each of Victor's kids would get a specific trait of his, and since Chester got his looks and Vincent his love for the piano. . . .
“Dad!”
Victor turned around to see Vincent running up to him. His stomach immediately did a nervous flip-flop – Vincent looked extremely worried about something, brown eyes wide with what appeared to be fright. “Vincent? What is it?” he asked, reaching out to touch his younger son’s shoulder.
“It’s Lorina,” Vincent said, panting slightly. “She’s locked herself in her room and she won’t come out. Mum says you should come home right away.”
“Locked herself in her room?” Victor repeated, puzzled. That was very unlike his daughter. Lorina was usually a rather sweet and personable young lady, not prone to sulking or fits of gloominess. Victor didn’t think she’d ever done something like this before. All thoughts about getting some new quill pens and paper fled. “All right, let’s be off.”
The pair jogged back to their house. Chester and Alice were waiting for them in the front foyer. “What’s happened? Do we know why she’s locked herself in?” Victor demanded as they came inside.
“I have an idea,” Alice admitted, glancing behind her. Before Victor could ask anything else, she turned back to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Before you ask, we have tried to talk to her. But – I really think she needs her father.”
Victor wasn’t sure what caused it – Alice’s tone of voice, her expression, maybe even the way she touched him – but something clicked in his head. Oh my God. . . . He’d always worried about this possibility, did his best to prepare for it, but still, to actually have it happen. . . . (A small part of him was surprised it wasn’t Chester who was affected – somehow his older son inheriting practically all of his looks had made him half-certain he was going to be the one to get something else from him as well.) Without waiting a second more, he made his way to Lorina’s room.
The hallway outside her room was eerily quiet – not a good sign. Victor took a deep breath and knocked on her door. “Lorina?” he called, as gently as possible. “It’s your father. M-may I come in?”
There was a moment of silence that seemed to last for years. Then, slowly, there was a click, and the door swung open to reveal Lorina, looking pale and worn, her eyes rimmed with red. Behind her, Victor could see that the room was in disarray – and that the wallpaper had been ruined by copious amounts of scribbling. “Daddy?” she choked out, voice wavering and filled with that indescribable something that signaled your brain would never be the same.
Victor promptly enveloped his newly-Touched daughter in a hug. “It’s okay,” he whispered, rocking her as she started crying, and remembering his own experiences when he’d first gone Creative. Alice had saved him from the madness then – and now, he was going to do the same with his little girl. “You’re going to be fine,” he assured her as she clung to him. Then, letting a little of the Creativity leak into his own voice, he added, “You’re not alone.”
Prompt: luminaries
Time Period: In the latter chapters of "Secundus," before Victor's actual breakthrough
Notes: Yes, me with the glowing butterflies again. I LIKE the glowing butterflies. Besides, when I looked up the word and found that it meant "people who inspire" as well as "sources of light," I had to do a fic that hit on both definitions. Also, the title is a nod towards "Genius: The Transgression," a fanmade World of Darkness supplement about mad scientists that I was interested in at the time. Geniuses are said to be filled "with the light of Inspiration."
It had to be the result of living in Secundus, Victor decided one morning while washing his face. Probably everyone who lived here and wasn’t already a Touched had dreams like the ones he’d been having lately. It was only natural, when one was surrounded by men and women who could bend the laws of physics, biology, and chemistry to their whims. Such things had to rub off on one.
And it was obvious he’d be affected more than the average person out on the street. He lived with a Touched and his Igor – hell, he probably qualified for Igor status himself at this point. And all of his friends were either Touched or close friends with Touched themselves (if not the result of their experiments). His days were filled with the sort of science that led to the creation of wonders – time travel theory, chemical drink mixtures, engineering for artificial limbs, and a thousand other things. Really, when he thought about it, it would be stranger for him not to have the dreams.
And yet. . .Victor couldn’t shake that niggling feeling that the glowing butterflies that haunted his nights were much more important than he realized.
One Door Closes. . .
Prompt: Janus
Time Period: Post-"Secundus," New Year's Eve
Notes: Janus, for those not in the know, is the Roman god of doorways, beginnings and endings, and time. He's where we get the month of January. This fic basically just came to me as a good way of seeing my favorite couple into the New Year.
“Almost midnight!”
Alice turned and grinned at her husband as she finished pouring the champagne. “I’ve always liked New Year’s Eve,” she continued, going over and handing him his drink. “It’s an exciting moment for me, going into the new year. Everything seems ripe with possibility.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Alice frowned. Victor didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic. He was slouched over on the couch, staring absently into space. She’d expected him to be a little excited at least. “Is something wrong?” she asked, sitting next to him.
“N-no! I–” He stopped as she gave him her best “I know you’re lying” look and sighed. “It’s just been such a strange year for me,” he admitted, looking down into his drink. “When last New Year’s came around, I thought the most exciting thing that was going to happen to me was an arranged marriage. Instead I found myself accidentally kidnapped by a flying steam train, taken to the Mad Science Capital of the World, and meeting so many wonderful people – including the love of my life,” he added with one of those warm smiles that never failed to send a tingle down her spine.
Then it vanished, leaving him with a rather haunted look. “And then – g-going Creative, and f-fighting the Queen of Hearts, and – and finding Lewis d-dead, and l-losing my parents. . . .” His eyes went to the floor as he took a deep, steadying breath. “I w-would like to say this was the b-best year of my life, but – there’s b-been a lot of b-bad in it.”
Alice watched him, feeling a rush of sympathy. She knew what he was feeling – losing Lewis had been hard on her too. He’d been her friend for ages – losing him had felt rather like losing another family member, ripping open a lot of old wounds. (Not to mention all the awkwardness and horrible things that had resulted from the events surrounding his death. . . .) And she knew what it was like to go mad, and to lose two of the most important people in your life.
Except – she didn’t, not quite. Victor’s madness was a different strain from her own. She was familiar with Touched, yes, but she had no idea what it was like to be one. Catatonia and manic creativity were about as different as chalk and cheese. And the loss of her parents had been a tragic accident. The loss of his. . .how could she ever comprehend what it was like to be rejected by one’s own parents? For something one couldn’t even help? She sighed. No wonder Victor felt a little morose.
But she knew something else – even if she couldn’t hope to understand all Victor had gone through, she could help and support him. She reached out and placed a hand on his back. “Yes, there’s been a lot of bad this year,” she agreed softly. Then she smiled hopefully. “But I rather think the good outweighs it. After all, even with everything that happened, you found a home here. You found friends who would do anything for you. And I – I found you.”
Victor looked up at her. Slowly, he smiled back and nodded. “That’s very true,” he said. “And I know as long as I have you, this new year will be wonderful, no matter what.”
Alice felt herself getting a little misty-eyed. She raised her glass as the clock in the corner began chiming midnight. “Out with the old. . . .”
“And in with the new,” Victor completed, clinking his glass against hers, before leaning in and kissing her.
Better Than A Blanket
Prompt: Free Square: Author’s Choice – warmth
Time Period: Post-"Secundus," just after the honeymoon
Notes: Random little fluffy piece. The idea for the Author's Choice just came to me – we have a couple of prompts about the cold, so why not one about warmth? And Victor getting cold easily at night is a headcanon I've had about him for a while.
Victor never knew why he tended to get so cold at night. Keeping himself a comfortable temperature never seemed to be a problem in the daylight. But at night, no matter how many covers he piled on himself, it seemed he always woke up shivering at least once. Even in summer, he generally needed a blanket. He tried hot water bottles, bedwarmers heated in the fire – even, upon coming to Secundus, one of those newfangled self-heating blankets. Nothing quite seemed to work.
Then, upon marrying Alice, he found that he was sleeping a little better than he had in the past. Puzzled by this at first, it didn’t take him long to find out the cause. His beloved wife was kind and intelligent and had a wonderful sense of humor –
But, most importantly for his bed, she was warm.
An Oddity of Pigmentation
Prompt: blue
Time Period: Post-"Secundus"
Notes: I was gonna write something about Victor's beloved butterflies, but then this popped in as a more interesting option. Besides, it's a valid question.
“Er, Emily? Do you mind if I ask you a – a p-possibly personal question?”
Emily turned to Victor with a smile. “Not at all. What is it?”
Victor fiddled a bit with his tie. He felt odd, asking this, but part of him just had to know. “Well, I’ve always w-wondered – do you know w-why your skin is – blue?”
Emily looked down at her one fleshed hand, examining it for a moment. “Sort of,” she said. “I asked Dr. Finklestein about it a day or two after he brought me back – once I’d gotten over the shock. He went into a rather long explanation I didn’t quite understand. Something about a ‘pigmentation change due to the reanimation process.’ I think that means the way he resurrects people turns them funny colors.”
Victor frowned. “One would think he’d try to fix that.”
“I don’t think he cares,” Emily said. Holding up her skeletal hand, she added, “Especially given the sort of dead he tends to resurrect. Having oddly-colored skin wouldn’t bother Bonejangles or Jack, after all.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Victor allowed. “Still. . .does it bother you at all?”
“It did at first,” Emily admitted, putting her hand down and twiddling her thumbs. “But as I got to know Sally and the others, it seemed less important. And after meeting you and your friends. . . .” She tilted her head, looking suddenly worried. “It’s never bothered you, has it? My being blue?”
Victor grinned at her. “Emily, one of my dearest friends – and your boyfriend, may I add – is green. I asked merely because I was curious.” He looked thoughtfully off into the distance. “Though, speaking of which, I have wondered why Richard’s skin is green.”
“Oh, I already asked him about that,” Emily said. “Apparently he has a rather – odd reaction to high doses of mercury.”
Our Trolls Are Different
Prompt: lawn ornament
Time Period: Just post-"Secundus"
Notes: Discworld crossover! This was going to be a "Wallace & Gromit" crossover, but then I decided I liked this idea better. I wanted to put these guys in the main narrative, but I don't think I'll find the space around the main story, so it was good to use them here. The title comes from the TV Tropes page of almost-the-same name.
Victor peered at the little pile of rocks sitting on the yard outside the house. Something about it had caught his attention as he passed by – he wasn’t sure what yet, but he was determined to find out. “What an odd-looking thing to have on one’s lawn,” he murmured to himself.
“Oh, actually, that’s an infant troll.”
Victor jerked his head up to see a man in a strangely-colored shirt and vest grinning at him. “A what?”
“A troll!” the man said again. “They’re a silicon-based life form – that’s why they look like rocks. They were Created for a colder climate, and they’re primarily nocturnal, so they tend to sleep during the day. Many a miner has been digging for precious metals, only to find a strong hand strangling the life out of them for disturbing its beauty sleep.”
Victor nodded slowly. The man’s smile as he related that information was a little disturbing. “I, ah, see. H-how do you know all this?”
“It was all in my travel guide!”
“Travel guide?”
“Yes. I first came here as a tourist,” the man explained. “I didn’t expect to stay long – I just wanted to see the city everyone talked about, and maybe have some life-changing experiences I could tell the others back home. Then I met Rincewind!”
“Rincewind Pratchett?” Victor guessed. Even back in Burtonsville, he’d heard stories about Rincewind. The man had a talent for getting himself into horrible, life-threatening trouble no matter how much he said he wanted a normal, boring life. (Victor wondered what he was doing living in Secundus if that was the case.)
“Yes! He’d recently come here after leaving Unseen University – you know, that university for Sparks and Igors? He and I had some amazing adventures, and after all was said and done, I couldn’t bring myself to leave.” The man grinned. “I’m so glad we met. He’s such a good friend.”
“Twoflower! Get in here and stop your Luggage from stealing all my crisps!”
“Coming! Good day to you, sir!” The man – Twoflower – turned to go.
“Just a moment – why do you have an infant troll?” Victor called after him.
“Oh, the Luggage burped it up. We’re just looking after it until I can convince Rincewind that a trip into the mountains to return it really is worth the trouble.” Twoflower gave him a wave and disappeared inside the house.
Victor watched him go, then looked back at the little pile of rocks. Sure enough, if he looked very closely, he could see a slight tremor going through it, as if it were breathing. He shook his head and continued onward, back into the main part of the city. “Never know what you’ll see in Secundus. . . .”
Not Alone
Prompt: daughter
Time Period: Post-"Secundus 2," teenage children era
Notes: This story has been with me in some form ever since I was planning Secundus. I always knew each of Victor's kids would get a specific trait of his, and since Chester got his looks and Vincent his love for the piano. . . .
“Dad!”
Victor turned around to see Vincent running up to him. His stomach immediately did a nervous flip-flop – Vincent looked extremely worried about something, brown eyes wide with what appeared to be fright. “Vincent? What is it?” he asked, reaching out to touch his younger son’s shoulder.
“It’s Lorina,” Vincent said, panting slightly. “She’s locked herself in her room and she won’t come out. Mum says you should come home right away.”
“Locked herself in her room?” Victor repeated, puzzled. That was very unlike his daughter. Lorina was usually a rather sweet and personable young lady, not prone to sulking or fits of gloominess. Victor didn’t think she’d ever done something like this before. All thoughts about getting some new quill pens and paper fled. “All right, let’s be off.”
The pair jogged back to their house. Chester and Alice were waiting for them in the front foyer. “What’s happened? Do we know why she’s locked herself in?” Victor demanded as they came inside.
“I have an idea,” Alice admitted, glancing behind her. Before Victor could ask anything else, she turned back to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Before you ask, we have tried to talk to her. But – I really think she needs her father.”
Victor wasn’t sure what caused it – Alice’s tone of voice, her expression, maybe even the way she touched him – but something clicked in his head. Oh my God. . . . He’d always worried about this possibility, did his best to prepare for it, but still, to actually have it happen. . . . (A small part of him was surprised it wasn’t Chester who was affected – somehow his older son inheriting practically all of his looks had made him half-certain he was going to be the one to get something else from him as well.) Without waiting a second more, he made his way to Lorina’s room.
The hallway outside her room was eerily quiet – not a good sign. Victor took a deep breath and knocked on her door. “Lorina?” he called, as gently as possible. “It’s your father. M-may I come in?”
There was a moment of silence that seemed to last for years. Then, slowly, there was a click, and the door swung open to reveal Lorina, looking pale and worn, her eyes rimmed with red. Behind her, Victor could see that the room was in disarray – and that the wallpaper had been ruined by copious amounts of scribbling. “Daddy?” she choked out, voice wavering and filled with that indescribable something that signaled your brain would never be the same.
Victor promptly enveloped his newly-Touched daughter in a hug. “It’s okay,” he whispered, rocking her as she started crying, and remembering his own experiences when he’d first gone Creative. Alice had saved him from the madness then – and now, he was going to do the same with his little girl. “You’re going to be fine,” he assured her as she clung to him. Then, letting a little of the Creativity leak into his own voice, he added, “You’re not alone.”