Winter Bingo: Card Two, Row One
Warm Hearts
Prompt: toasty
Time Period: Post-"Secundus 2," young children era
Notes: Part of me wanted to do a much darker fic involving the house burning down for this prompt, but the nice family piece featured here quickly won out. (I'm sure my characters are grateful.) I knew, though, that I'd have to do something in the prompt dealing with Alice's fears about fire – when you think about it, she and Victor are both rather messed up. They're just messed up in strangely compatible ways. I think this turned out appropriately sweet, though. Vincent gets the biggest speaking role in this one because I felt at the time I was kind of ignoring him.
“We should have marshmallows!”
“Oh, we should, should we?” Victor said, grinning at Vincent as they sat around the fire.
“Yes,” Vincent nodded. “Then we could toast them and eat them.”
“Maybe next time,” Victor said, licking his lips as he imagined it.
“You ever think of making a marshmallow butterfly, Daddy?” Lorina asked, tilting her head.
Victor shook his head. “Too sticky. It took me long enough to find a way to make peanut-butterflies that wouldn’t automatically get their wings stuck together. And if I make them out of solid marshmallow, there’s a good chance they’d melt in the first rainstorm.”
“Too bad,” Chester said, warming his hands on the fire. “They sound fun.”
“Even mad science has its limits, I’m afraid.”
Chester nodded, then glanced back at where his mother was sitting in her chair, reading a book. “Don’t you want to join us, Mum?”
Alice looked up. “I’m fine,” she said evenly. “And you’re sitting far too close. Scoot back a bit.”
Chester frowned, but did as he was told. “I didn’t think I was sitting too close,” he murmured.
“Trust me, you were,” Alice informed him. “You never know when something–” She stopped, then shook her head. “You just always need to be careful around open flame.”
“But it’s so warm over here!” Vincent got up and wandered over to his mother, feeling her hand. “And you’re all cold!”
Alice looked from him to the fire. She did her best to keep her expression neutral, but Victor could see the flickers of fear in her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, voice a bit distant.
Victor frowned. He really wished there was more he could do for her phobias. He’d done his best to assure her, time and again, that he (and later the children) weren’t going anywhere. But, much like he’d probably always feel a bit guilty about the death of Lewis Carroll, there was probably no way to stop her from worrying that fire was going to claim her family once again. Which led to nights like these, where she froze while the rest of the family enjoyed the warmth of the fireplace. . . .
Then, suddenly, an idea came to him. “Vincent, why don’t you sit on Mum’s lap to warm her up?” he suggested.
“Would you like that, Mum?” Vincent said, looking up at her. “I’m all toasty.”
Alice grinned back down at him. “I’d like that very much,” she said, moving her book so he could climb on.
Vincent happily got up and snuggled into his mother. Alice hugged him back, then looked over at Victor gratefully. Victor gave her a smile, then mouthed the words, “We’re not going anywhere,” to her.
And for the first time, it looked like Alice really believed him.
Beating The Odds
Prompt: old
Time Period: Post-"Secundus 2" – way, way post it
Notes: Just a short thing about Victor in his old age. The concept just popped into my head – and let's face it, we all know about mad scientists meeting premature ends.
Most Touched didn’t live to a particularly old age. Everyone knew that. It was far more likely with those Somewhat and Severely Touched, but even those only Slightly Touched were at risk to suffer a premature death, whether from an experiment gone wrong (or right in the worst possible way) or from an angry mob. A Touched’s life span simply wasn’t the same as a Regular person’s.
Victor had known this long before coming to Secundus. After he went a bit Creative, he mentally prepared himself for the idea that he might not live to see old age. He wasn’t the type to fiddle around with dangerous Inventions usually, but he always knew there was the possibility of something going very wrong and ending his life early. He updated his will regularly, made sure his wife (and when they were born, his children) would be safe in case of any emergency, and generally did his best to find the good in each day. After all, each one had the potential of being his last. He was determined to enjoy whatever life he had to the fullest.
Which is probably the reason why I’m around to see my 85th birthday, he reflected with a chuckle as his son Vincent served up the cake to the various friends and family attending the celebration. Well – that and the fact I don’t think I could ever miss a slice of the March Hare’s cake.
Middle Child Syndrome
Prompt: naughty list
Time Period: Post-"Secundus 2," young children era
Notes: A story for what I worry is the forgotten child of this Victor and Alice. When I was thinking up potential stories for this prompt, I realized that I'd kind of been neglecting the male half of Victor and Alice's twins. Chester's the oldest and the one who's common to all worlds, and Lorina's the girl and the future next Touched of the family – it was easier to focus on them. Feeling guilty, I decided to give Vincent his own story to make up for it. The title comes from the appropriate trope on TV Tropes about middle children feeling a bit neglected because they aren't the oldest or the baby. Vincent's technically one-half of the youngest kids, but again, since his sister's the only girl. . . .
“It’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair,” Victor retorted, glancing over at his son in the corner. “Besides, you did break a plate by running in the house. Having to sit in the corner for an hour sounds plenty fair to me.”
“I helped Mum clean it up,” Vincent groused, slouched over on himself.
“Because you wanted to, or because she told you to?” No reply. “Complaining to yourself isn’t going to shorten your sentence.”
Vincent was silent. Victor sighed. He hated playing jailer – being the disciplinarian wasn’t something he enjoyed. But Alice was busy with supper, and it was better for someone to be around and make sure the punishment was actually served. At least I can work on my notes while I wait, he thought, turning back to his desk.
“. . .you just love Chester and Lorina more.”
Victor’s head snapped back up. “What?”
“Chester’s the oldest, and Lorina’s the girl,” Vincent elaborated, sounding a little sniffly. “You like them better than me.”
Victor felt like his heart had just received a jab from a red-hot knife. “Oh, Vincent. . . .” He got up and crossed the room to kneel down by his son. “That’s not true at all.”
“Is so.”
“Is not,” Victor countered firmly. He gathered Vincent into his arms. “Mum and I love you all equally. Chester may be the oldest, and Lorina may be the girl, but you’re our beloved little boy. And nothing will ever change that.” He lightly squeezed his son. “Besides, you’ve seen how much trouble your brother and sister get into. Everybody ends up in this chair sooner or later.”
Vincent smiled a little at that. Victor smiled back. “Don’t ever think we don’t love you, Vincent. You’re an important part of this family, and nothing will ever change that.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Vincent replied softly. “I love you too.” They hugged. “But how much longer do I have to sit here?”
Victor checked his watch. “Half an hour,” he reported, making Vincent sigh. “I don’t like it any more than you do, if it helps.”
“Then tell Mum to stop punishing you.”
Victor laughed. “We’ll survive. Besides, if you sit quietly for the next twenty-five minutes, I think I can convince her to let you off a little early for good behavior.”
The New Addition
Prompt: birth
Time Period: What will be the last chapter/epilogue of "Secundus 2"
Notes: Baby Chester! I've had the scene of Chester's birth in my head for a while, so it felt natural to write something for this prompt. Alice's comment about what sets Victor off has to do with his going Creative in the climax of "Secundus" – suffice to say, he doesn't tolerate harm to his wife.
Alice looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms. Two blue-green eyes stared back up at her from a pale little face. She’d asked the doctor about those eyes, puzzled about where they’d come from. The doctor had explained that all babies were born with blue eyes, and that, judging from the faint green ring around the pupil, they would probably darken to green by his first birthday. She chuckled – his eye color was about the only thing her new son seemed to have taken from her (or would take, more accurately). In every other respect, he was a Van Dort, just like his father.
She heard the door open and looked up. Victor was standing there, looking both incredibly nervous and oddly hopeful. It was certainly a far cry from the way he’d looked before, bursting in and furiously demanding to know what was going on – only to actually see what was going on and faint dead away. She resisted the urge to thank him for that, however. Much as she’d needed the laugh during the painful business of giving birth, she doubted he’d appreciate it. “They t-told me I could c-come in,” he said, lingering in the doorway, hands on his tie.
Alice nodded, then beckoned him closer with a jerk of her head. “Come meet your new son.”
Victor hesitated a moment, then came to the side of the bed and crouched down. His already large eyes widened as he took in the baby. “Goodness, he’s – he’s so small,” he murmured.
Alice evaluated the child for a moment. He was rather small – certainly smaller than she’d guessed. “He didn’t feel that way coming out,” she muttered without thinking.
Victor blushed bright red. “I’m s-sorry for – i-interrupting like that,” he said, pulling at his tie. “I just h-heard you scream and–”
Alice winced. She didn’t blame Victor at all for his sudden intrusion – she knew better than anyone that the best way to set him off was to threaten her. She’d tried to keep her mouth shut, she really had, but the pain had gotten the best of her near the end. “It’s fine,” she told him. Then, feeling a spike of worry, she added, “Are you all right? Did you hit your head when–”
“N-no, Doc caught me at the last second,” Victor admitted, blushing harder. “I – you–”
“Let’s not talk about it,” Alice cut him off. Honestly, she would be fine forgetting the whole messy, disgusting birthing process herself. Her memories could skip straight to that happy moment after everything had been cleaned up and the midwife had shown her how to hold her new son.
Victor looked relieved and turned his attention back to their child. “He’s so pale as well,” he commented.
“A Van Dort through and through,” Alice told him. “Look, he even has your black hair.”
Victor looked at the few minuscule wisps on the top of the boy’s head, then sighed. “I’m still t-terribly nervous,” he whispered.
Alice understood exactly what he was getting at. Not long into her pregnancy, Victor had confessed that he wasn’t sure if he was father material. Not only was he the naturally clumsy and nervous type, there was also the fact he was a Touched to consider. He was absolutely terrified he would hurt the baby. Alice had done her best to quell his fears (and had admitted a few of her own in the process), but she could understand his still being worried. “I’m a little overwhelmed myself,” she told him. “But I know we’ll both do the best we can for him. I’m never one to back down from a challenge, and neither are you.”
Victor smiled at her. “He’s a challenge now, hmm?”
“Well, what with him probably going to have us up at all hours of the night, and having to figure out why he’s crying, and changing dirty diapers. . . .” Alice smiled lovingly down at their baby. “But he’s our challenge.”
Victor reached out and lightly stroked the baby’s cheek, causing him to try and nurse the finger. Victor chuckled. “Yes. Ours,” he agreed, putting his free arm around her.
Prompt: toasty
Time Period: Post-"Secundus 2," young children era
Notes: Part of me wanted to do a much darker fic involving the house burning down for this prompt, but the nice family piece featured here quickly won out. (I'm sure my characters are grateful.) I knew, though, that I'd have to do something in the prompt dealing with Alice's fears about fire – when you think about it, she and Victor are both rather messed up. They're just messed up in strangely compatible ways. I think this turned out appropriately sweet, though. Vincent gets the biggest speaking role in this one because I felt at the time I was kind of ignoring him.
“We should have marshmallows!”
“Oh, we should, should we?” Victor said, grinning at Vincent as they sat around the fire.
“Yes,” Vincent nodded. “Then we could toast them and eat them.”
“Maybe next time,” Victor said, licking his lips as he imagined it.
“You ever think of making a marshmallow butterfly, Daddy?” Lorina asked, tilting her head.
Victor shook his head. “Too sticky. It took me long enough to find a way to make peanut-butterflies that wouldn’t automatically get their wings stuck together. And if I make them out of solid marshmallow, there’s a good chance they’d melt in the first rainstorm.”
“Too bad,” Chester said, warming his hands on the fire. “They sound fun.”
“Even mad science has its limits, I’m afraid.”
Chester nodded, then glanced back at where his mother was sitting in her chair, reading a book. “Don’t you want to join us, Mum?”
Alice looked up. “I’m fine,” she said evenly. “And you’re sitting far too close. Scoot back a bit.”
Chester frowned, but did as he was told. “I didn’t think I was sitting too close,” he murmured.
“Trust me, you were,” Alice informed him. “You never know when something–” She stopped, then shook her head. “You just always need to be careful around open flame.”
“But it’s so warm over here!” Vincent got up and wandered over to his mother, feeling her hand. “And you’re all cold!”
Alice looked from him to the fire. She did her best to keep her expression neutral, but Victor could see the flickers of fear in her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, voice a bit distant.
Victor frowned. He really wished there was more he could do for her phobias. He’d done his best to assure her, time and again, that he (and later the children) weren’t going anywhere. But, much like he’d probably always feel a bit guilty about the death of Lewis Carroll, there was probably no way to stop her from worrying that fire was going to claim her family once again. Which led to nights like these, where she froze while the rest of the family enjoyed the warmth of the fireplace. . . .
Then, suddenly, an idea came to him. “Vincent, why don’t you sit on Mum’s lap to warm her up?” he suggested.
“Would you like that, Mum?” Vincent said, looking up at her. “I’m all toasty.”
Alice grinned back down at him. “I’d like that very much,” she said, moving her book so he could climb on.
Vincent happily got up and snuggled into his mother. Alice hugged him back, then looked over at Victor gratefully. Victor gave her a smile, then mouthed the words, “We’re not going anywhere,” to her.
And for the first time, it looked like Alice really believed him.
Beating The Odds
Prompt: old
Time Period: Post-"Secundus 2" – way, way post it
Notes: Just a short thing about Victor in his old age. The concept just popped into my head – and let's face it, we all know about mad scientists meeting premature ends.
Most Touched didn’t live to a particularly old age. Everyone knew that. It was far more likely with those Somewhat and Severely Touched, but even those only Slightly Touched were at risk to suffer a premature death, whether from an experiment gone wrong (or right in the worst possible way) or from an angry mob. A Touched’s life span simply wasn’t the same as a Regular person’s.
Victor had known this long before coming to Secundus. After he went a bit Creative, he mentally prepared himself for the idea that he might not live to see old age. He wasn’t the type to fiddle around with dangerous Inventions usually, but he always knew there was the possibility of something going very wrong and ending his life early. He updated his will regularly, made sure his wife (and when they were born, his children) would be safe in case of any emergency, and generally did his best to find the good in each day. After all, each one had the potential of being his last. He was determined to enjoy whatever life he had to the fullest.
Which is probably the reason why I’m around to see my 85th birthday, he reflected with a chuckle as his son Vincent served up the cake to the various friends and family attending the celebration. Well – that and the fact I don’t think I could ever miss a slice of the March Hare’s cake.
Middle Child Syndrome
Prompt: naughty list
Time Period: Post-"Secundus 2," young children era
Notes: A story for what I worry is the forgotten child of this Victor and Alice. When I was thinking up potential stories for this prompt, I realized that I'd kind of been neglecting the male half of Victor and Alice's twins. Chester's the oldest and the one who's common to all worlds, and Lorina's the girl and the future next Touched of the family – it was easier to focus on them. Feeling guilty, I decided to give Vincent his own story to make up for it. The title comes from the appropriate trope on TV Tropes about middle children feeling a bit neglected because they aren't the oldest or the baby. Vincent's technically one-half of the youngest kids, but again, since his sister's the only girl. . . .
“It’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair,” Victor retorted, glancing over at his son in the corner. “Besides, you did break a plate by running in the house. Having to sit in the corner for an hour sounds plenty fair to me.”
“I helped Mum clean it up,” Vincent groused, slouched over on himself.
“Because you wanted to, or because she told you to?” No reply. “Complaining to yourself isn’t going to shorten your sentence.”
Vincent was silent. Victor sighed. He hated playing jailer – being the disciplinarian wasn’t something he enjoyed. But Alice was busy with supper, and it was better for someone to be around and make sure the punishment was actually served. At least I can work on my notes while I wait, he thought, turning back to his desk.
“. . .you just love Chester and Lorina more.”
Victor’s head snapped back up. “What?”
“Chester’s the oldest, and Lorina’s the girl,” Vincent elaborated, sounding a little sniffly. “You like them better than me.”
Victor felt like his heart had just received a jab from a red-hot knife. “Oh, Vincent. . . .” He got up and crossed the room to kneel down by his son. “That’s not true at all.”
“Is so.”
“Is not,” Victor countered firmly. He gathered Vincent into his arms. “Mum and I love you all equally. Chester may be the oldest, and Lorina may be the girl, but you’re our beloved little boy. And nothing will ever change that.” He lightly squeezed his son. “Besides, you’ve seen how much trouble your brother and sister get into. Everybody ends up in this chair sooner or later.”
Vincent smiled a little at that. Victor smiled back. “Don’t ever think we don’t love you, Vincent. You’re an important part of this family, and nothing will ever change that.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Vincent replied softly. “I love you too.” They hugged. “But how much longer do I have to sit here?”
Victor checked his watch. “Half an hour,” he reported, making Vincent sigh. “I don’t like it any more than you do, if it helps.”
“Then tell Mum to stop punishing you.”
Victor laughed. “We’ll survive. Besides, if you sit quietly for the next twenty-five minutes, I think I can convince her to let you off a little early for good behavior.”
The New Addition
Prompt: birth
Time Period: What will be the last chapter/epilogue of "Secundus 2"
Notes: Baby Chester! I've had the scene of Chester's birth in my head for a while, so it felt natural to write something for this prompt. Alice's comment about what sets Victor off has to do with his going Creative in the climax of "Secundus" – suffice to say, he doesn't tolerate harm to his wife.
Alice looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms. Two blue-green eyes stared back up at her from a pale little face. She’d asked the doctor about those eyes, puzzled about where they’d come from. The doctor had explained that all babies were born with blue eyes, and that, judging from the faint green ring around the pupil, they would probably darken to green by his first birthday. She chuckled – his eye color was about the only thing her new son seemed to have taken from her (or would take, more accurately). In every other respect, he was a Van Dort, just like his father.
She heard the door open and looked up. Victor was standing there, looking both incredibly nervous and oddly hopeful. It was certainly a far cry from the way he’d looked before, bursting in and furiously demanding to know what was going on – only to actually see what was going on and faint dead away. She resisted the urge to thank him for that, however. Much as she’d needed the laugh during the painful business of giving birth, she doubted he’d appreciate it. “They t-told me I could c-come in,” he said, lingering in the doorway, hands on his tie.
Alice nodded, then beckoned him closer with a jerk of her head. “Come meet your new son.”
Victor hesitated a moment, then came to the side of the bed and crouched down. His already large eyes widened as he took in the baby. “Goodness, he’s – he’s so small,” he murmured.
Alice evaluated the child for a moment. He was rather small – certainly smaller than she’d guessed. “He didn’t feel that way coming out,” she muttered without thinking.
Victor blushed bright red. “I’m s-sorry for – i-interrupting like that,” he said, pulling at his tie. “I just h-heard you scream and–”
Alice winced. She didn’t blame Victor at all for his sudden intrusion – she knew better than anyone that the best way to set him off was to threaten her. She’d tried to keep her mouth shut, she really had, but the pain had gotten the best of her near the end. “It’s fine,” she told him. Then, feeling a spike of worry, she added, “Are you all right? Did you hit your head when–”
“N-no, Doc caught me at the last second,” Victor admitted, blushing harder. “I – you–”
“Let’s not talk about it,” Alice cut him off. Honestly, she would be fine forgetting the whole messy, disgusting birthing process herself. Her memories could skip straight to that happy moment after everything had been cleaned up and the midwife had shown her how to hold her new son.
Victor looked relieved and turned his attention back to their child. “He’s so pale as well,” he commented.
“A Van Dort through and through,” Alice told him. “Look, he even has your black hair.”
Victor looked at the few minuscule wisps on the top of the boy’s head, then sighed. “I’m still t-terribly nervous,” he whispered.
Alice understood exactly what he was getting at. Not long into her pregnancy, Victor had confessed that he wasn’t sure if he was father material. Not only was he the naturally clumsy and nervous type, there was also the fact he was a Touched to consider. He was absolutely terrified he would hurt the baby. Alice had done her best to quell his fears (and had admitted a few of her own in the process), but she could understand his still being worried. “I’m a little overwhelmed myself,” she told him. “But I know we’ll both do the best we can for him. I’m never one to back down from a challenge, and neither are you.”
Victor smiled at her. “He’s a challenge now, hmm?”
“Well, what with him probably going to have us up at all hours of the night, and having to figure out why he’s crying, and changing dirty diapers. . . .” Alice smiled lovingly down at their baby. “But he’s our challenge.”
Victor reached out and lightly stroked the baby’s cheek, causing him to try and nurse the finger. Victor chuckled. “Yes. Ours,” he agreed, putting his free arm around her.