Muse FanFiction, v. 2008.4
These are not RRRs but solo projects which share the same thread. Start your own, or just stop by and visit.
Continued from Muse Fanfiction, v. 2008.3.
Date: July 29, 2008
Categories: Fiction, poetry, and fanfiction
Monday, 29 April 2024
Life, the universe, pies, hot-pink bunnies, world domination, and everything
These are not RRRs but solo projects which share the same thread. Start your own, or just stop by and visit.
Continued from Muse Fanfiction, v. 2008.3.
Date: July 29, 2008
Categories: Fiction, poetry, and fanfiction
Hmm. Perhaps I’ll post the entire Blizzard volume here. If I posted the full Schism story arc the computer would crash, but I ought to have some reference.
What exactly is this thread?
Isn’t FanFiction like writing the eighth HP book?
It’s for writing stories involving Muse on; read the other thread. I had some story going, but that deteriorated pretty fast..
3- Yes. Precisely.
Only this is with the Muses instead.
Some of us, in fact, have combined the Muses with Harry Potter (and done it more than once).
Ooh. New Fanfiction thread.
I kinda forgot about mine, maybe I’ll write summore today.
Great story as usual by the way, POSOC. I hadn’t checked it in a while, I just did a few minutes ago.
DAYS OF FUTURE NEVER
Prologue:
Angelique was six when the Crays moved to EPCOT Center. On their first night in their new house, at the edge of the city’s residential section, she had seen a bright flash of light on the horizon.
Dropping her toys, Angie had run outside onto the lawn. She stood in the dewy grass, eyes transfixed on the bright object that was rising into the night on a column of fire. The sonic booms a few seconds later had drawn her parents outside, too.
“What is it, Bob?†her mother had asked.
“Looks like a space shuttle. Canaveral’s only about fifty miles away.†Her father had responded, looking around. “Everybody else is still in their houses, they’re used to it.â€
“Well, I’m not used to it, Bob. We’ll go back to the airport tomorrow; I won’t live in a place where I’ll have to endure those loud booms every two weeks.â€
“Come on, Marsha, this Imagineering job is the best thing that’s ever happened to us…â€
Unaware of her parent’s bickering, Angie just stood there, watching the shuttle as it climbed higher and higher, until it was only a moving point of light, like any satellite or airplane.
8- Yah! Disney Finally Made E.P.C.O.T.! I’m working on something about that to.
8- Ooh, what’s this about? Any hints?
10- It’s about alternate timelines and The Future as it was imagined back in the sixties.
I liked that future.
12- why?
Joulle sat at her desk, doodling absentmindedly on her worksheet. Cassandra and Alexandra, identical twins and her best friends, were bored too. Cassandra had perfected the art of looking busy while sleeping, and Alexandra was quietly listening to her iPod. They were the troublemakers of the class, and sat in the back. Joulle wasn’t like that. She followed rules, turned her papers in on time, and always got Bs or As. Joulle called Cassandra and Alexandra Fred and George, and for a good reason. They had ginger hair and freckles, and looked exactly like each other. They all read Muse. Cassandra’s favorite Muse was Kokopelli, and Alexandra’s was Devil. Joulle really perfered Urania. The bell rang, and Joulle got up, thankfully leaving the classroom.
Cassandra, Alexandra, and Joulle walked along the hall to the gym, chattering about a chain story they were writing. The first bell rang, and Joulle scampered down the hallway quickly. The hallway slowly cleared out, until the two were the only ones left. They morphed into hawks and flew out the open window.
Samantha finished reading the last page of her issue of Muse and groaned. Sure, she was excited to be visiting Disney World, but why did her parents have to take so long to unpack everything in the condo?
Rolling onto her back, Sam looked up at the ceiling above her bed. Well, not really HER bed, her real bed was back in Boston.
Why couldn’t we have visited the park first and unpacked later? Sam thought, to herself.
Deciding to get some air, she stood up and walked to the sliding glass door that led to a little balcony.
Sam opened the door and began to step out.
She heard a lould humming noise.
Then everything went black.
15 – …My name is Samantha. I looked at that and I’m like “What the heck? Why am I in a fanfic?” …Then, I realized I never told you guys my name. So, I’m Samantha. And I shall lurk now to see if I die or not.
16- I swear, the names of these characters are a homage to Sam and Angie, my two best friends from People to People! Who are not even Musers! I’ll change the name if you want.
Should I post all of my fanfiction on this thread so people wont have to go back to the other thread, or should I just keep writing and they can visit if they want?
Two hawks flew over Thomas Brown. Mr. Brown had been puttering around his garden when SPLAT! Something gooey hit him. He reached up and found… bird poo?!
Alexandra had never liked Mr. Brown that much.
Cassandra and Alexandra landed on a ledge and morphed back into humans. Cassandra said, “Did you really have to dive bomb Brown?” Alexandra looked exasperated. “You know how that head case is. Remember how mad he got at us last summer over that teeny tiny little mishap?” “We blew up his house.” “It was an accident!” she protested. “Besides, it was a direct hit. I could’nt resist.” Cassandra raised her eyebrows, then said worriedly, “This is more important. How are we going to explain to Joulle about the autograph from Urania?”
It had been a normal day for Kokopelli. He had messed with Urania, made Feather have to replant his whole garden, messed with Urania, hid all of Bo’s factoids, messed with Urania, and more of the same. He had wandered over to a ledge to set a booby trap when two orange hawks flew up straight in front of him. To add to his astonishment, the hawks changed into two orange haired freckled girls. “Are you Kokopelli?” one of the girls asked. “No, I’m Chad.” To punctuate his sentence, he whipped out a blueberry pie. But before he could fling it, he tasted strawberries and artificail turf. As he cleaned the pie from his face, he saw the two girls smirking while looking at the aftermath of his work. “Hi, we’re Cass-” The other girl nudged her. “Forgive my sister. Our names are Fred and George. Pie for all.”
1-Please post it!
Sam opened her eyes to find herself in what looked like a laboratory. Odd machines were everywhere, covered in blinking lights, and cables snaked across the floor. From somewhere behind her, Sam heard footsteps.
She turned her head towards the sound but heard nothing.
“Where AM I?” She asked herself, standing up. She began to walk down the length of the room, towards a metal door. About halfway down the long room, Sam tripped over a cable.
“Ooph!”
Standing up, Sam saw the door being pushed open.
“Is somebody in here?” a voice asked, from behind the door.
“Yes. I’m sort of lost and I need some help.” Sam called back.
The door opened all the way and a girl about Sam’s age with a blond ponytail stepped out. She was wearing pants with lots of pockets and a shirt sporting a black-and-white picture of Mickey Mouse.
“Hi, I’m Angelique Cray. But everybody calls me Angie.” the girl said
“I’m Samantha Orson. My friends call me Sam. Um, this might sound like a silly question, but where IS this?”
“Laboratory B, tenth story of the DragonFire Building, EPCOT Industrial Park, EPCOT Center, Orange County, Florida, United States of America-” Angie said
“So, I’m in the park, then?” Sam asked, cutting Angie off. [i] But how did I ever get here from our condo? [i]
“You’re at Disney World, yes. And you really shouldn’t be in this lab. They’re working on the teleportation experiment in there and you know how worried they are about spies.” Angie answered.
“Actually, I don’t know…”
[i] Teleportation experiment? Well, that explains it… but I didn’t see anybody working with the machines… [i]
Sam followed Angie through the door, out into a corridor with large curved windows.
Looking at the view, Sam saw a city in the distance. The highest building was tall and curving, topped by an antenna. A bridge connected the city to the industrial park, with a monorail speeding along.
This wasn’t anything Sam had seen the last time she visited Disney World.
“Um, if you don’t mind my asking, what YEAR is it?”
“August 2nd, 2008.”
Gah. In case you can’t tell, I’m completely out of ideas. I just wrote this… No, you know what, I’ll post the whole thing.
If you asked Sierra Carter what a Wung Button was, she wouldn’t tell you. Neither would Vanessa Medina, or Michael Speroni or any of the rest of the eight hundred (give or take a few) students at Muse Academy. They had a responsibility to act normal over the summer holidays, and that’s exactly what they were going to do. Telling random people who pick up this book what a Wung Button was, by definition, not normal.
This could, of course, prove quite a feat for some. In her current position, Sierra would have attracted more than the average number of stares than usual, (because a teenage girl hanging upside down by her knees in pouring rain isn’t something you see every day) but this was avoided by the fact that she was twelve feet up in a tree, covered by dense foliage. Unlike most girls who would freak because rain makes hair curl and frizz and go whack on you, Sierra ignored the downpour and continued to read her novel. The book was right side up, which meant she had to read from bottom to top and right to left, but that just increased the level of fun she was having, and made the situation even weirder. Which, to her, was perfectly normal.
She was disrupted from her reading by tiniest of cracks, a warning from the tree branch that it didn’t tolerate thirteen year old girls hanging on it for much longer than she had. Deciding that she’d rather descend from the tree when she was ready for it and not when the tree decided to buck her off, Sierra finished the paragraph she was reading and hoisted herself up into a sitting position on the branch before shimmying to the ground. Unaware that woman covered in a shiny red raincoat gasped at the sudden appearance of Sierra, she shook her hair in an attempt to rid it of rainwater. After a few seconds, she figured she was getting wetter shaking it than just running into her house, so she did the latter.
Once she was in her bed, covered by thick blankets, Sierra continued her novel. By the time she was halfway through, the thunder outside started. She loved thunderstorms. Reading and thunderstorms, those were the things that Sierra liked best. The only disadvantage to thunderstorms, she thought, were…
Crack! ZZZ….zpp.
Lightning slashed across her window at the same time that the power went out.
Cursing, Sierra left her bed and felt around her dark room until she stumbled into the hall. She spotted a tall figure going slowly down the stairs, hand on the rail.
“Jason?â€
The figure spun around. “What?â€
Sierra’s older brother almost completely blended in with the dark kitchen below. It didn’t really help that he had a black shirt on and dark jeans. The window above the stairs flashed with lightning, and she momentarily saw the pink and purples of his Birthday Massacre shirt.
“I was just wondering if you had a flashlight. I was reading a really good book, and–â€
“Every book you pick up is good, Sierra, and if I had a flashlight, I wouldn’t be groping downstairs into the kitchen to get one.â€
“Well, thanks for the sarcasm, Mr. Emo.â€
“That’s not sarcasm., that’s called pointing out irony. And I’m not emo.â€
“Mhmm, of course you aren’t.â€
“I’m not!â€
“Whatever. I’m coming down to get a flashlight too.â€
A line was left across her vision from another dagger of lightning as she climbed down the stairs toward her brother, both hands on the railing. “I still haven’t gotten used to these stairs. It was so much easier, having a one story house. And the word bungalow is much cooler than two story, don’t you think?â€
Jason didn’t respond, but waited until Sierra reached him until he continued down the stairs toward the kitchen.
Jason almost bumped into Sierra at least four times before she found a flashlight.
“Got one!â€
The beam from the flashlight hit Jason full in the face. His arms flew up to his face and he stepped out of the beam. “Thanks for completely obscuring my vision for the next, like, four hours.â€
“Does that mean I can sneak in your room and listen to your MCR CDs without you knowing?â€
“Yeah, because Gerard Way sounds exactly like the pipes, so I won’t suspect a thing.â€
“See? Sarcasm!â€
Jason opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it.
Sierra nudged past him and skipped up the stairs. The flashlight played across the walls with a thin light; it’s battery was probably about to give out. She grabbed a couple of triple As from the hall closet and replaced it. The lights had already gone out in the middle of a paragraph once today, she didn’t want that to happen again. Another distraction would probably cause her to go mad. Woe betide the person who interrupted her from reading, but the lightning got off easy because she couldn’t pound it into pea soup.
Once settled back into her bed, Sierra searched around in the covers for the book, hoping it hadn’t been closed. Lost places were a real drag.
When she found it halfway down the bed, Sierra sighed. It was closed. She pulled it out.
There was a little slip of white paper stuck in it. For a second, she stared at it. She didn’t remember putting in a bookmark. She opened the book. The slip was blank. Out of curiosity she turned it over. One word was written in a hasty scrawl.
Duck.
Fortunately, Sierra was smart enough to know if someone could stick a note in her book while she was downstairs, she should take it seriously. She ducked.
And then the room exploded.
***
“Why do you build me up? (build me up?) Buttercup, baby, just to let me down (let me down) and mess me around, and then worst of all (worst of a—)â€
Michael flipped open his phone.
“Hold on, Vanessa, I have to duck a…â€
SPLAT.
Outraged and covered in cream, he clapped the phone to his chest. “CAKE? CAKE!? Jasmine Helena Speroni, I’m going to pie you within ONE INCH of your plant OBSESSED life and then I’m going to STAB you in your leg so you BLEED SLOWLY TO DEATH.â€
With that, he stormed out of the hallway and slammed the door to his room.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying Vanessa?â€
“Um, I was just wondering if you knew whether we could have any color robe we wanted, or did we just have to get black. Because I went on a shopping spree at The Melting Cone and got hot pink, neon green and black with purple splotches.â€
“I’m not even going to ask why you got neon green robes, Vanessa, but I’m pretty sure we can have whatever colors we want as long as we have another plain black one. Wasn’t the dress code on the letter?â€
There was a pause on Vanessa’s line, and then a rustling of papers. “Yeah, I think so, but I think Max ate as a goat it just to make me mad.â€
Michael laughed. “I bet. How’s Max, anyway?â€
Vanessa groaned. “He’s just discovered that he can transform under water. Every time I try to take a shower, I’ve got a undersized octopus or squid or piranha in my bathtub.â€
Michael laughed even harder and found a chair to sit down in to prevent himself from rolling around on the floor. Max was Vanessa’s dog, or at least most of the time. She’d found him in one of Muse Academy’s underground tunnels that lead directly to the bedrooms. He had scared the cake out of her when he transformed into a beaver as she was carrying him to the kitchen to see where he had come from, and the Head had let her keep him.
Of course, it was more of a matter of if he wanted to stay with Vanessa, but he did, so that wasn’t much of a problem. Apparently, Max was a species all his own and not many people knew about him anyway. Most Muse Academy students and teachers (who knew about him) called him Max and left it at that.
Michael heard the scowl in Vanessa’s voice. “It’s not funny! It’s really annoying. Not to mention last week when he did another one of his rabid squirrel routines and almost got shot by the neighbors. You should have heard Mr. Garrison waving his cane and screaming about shooting the whole neighborhood up. And his wife came over in the middle of dinner and asked if the rabid squirrel in her front yard was ours. Because everyone owns rabid squirrels these days!â€
Before Michael could respond with an “Of course,†he was startled by a ping! by his left shoulder. He jumped out of his chair and smacked his elbow on the bookcase to his right.
“Ouch! Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch!â€
“Um, Michael, whatever you’re doing to yourself, stop.â€
“I bumped my elbow.†Michael grabbed it in his left hand. “Listen, I gotta go, I’m getting messages on the Alpha. I’ll see you in two weeks, okay?â€
“Right. If I don’t get thrown in the Bennie before I get my letter. I might just kill Max if he tries to jump out of my closet like a wolf spider one more time.â€
Michael would have started laughing (he remembered last year when that was Max’s favorite activity, and how Vanessa ran screaming around the dorm with him clinging onto her head) but his elbow hurt too much. “Mhmm. Bye.†He hung up, before Vanessa had the chance to ask him something else.
The computer had given up pinging, it was now emitting a constant high-pitched beep.
Talking on the phone with Vanessa had cheered Michael up a little, but not much.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT, CRANE?â€
The computer screen turned bright blue, yet still showed no icons of any sort.
“Mail.†The voice the computer spoke in was gender neutral: you couldn’t tell if it was male or female.
“I see,†said Michael. “Thanks for pinging my head off.â€
“Welcome. Mail.†You couldn’t be sarcastic with Crane (some geek had nicknamed the “smart computer†series Crane, which derived from Cranium). It might be smart for a machine, but it wasn’t intelligent.
“Okay, how much mail?â€
“One message.â€
“Oh, that’s fine, as long as it’s not huge.â€
“Thirty two seconds.â€
“Good. Let’s hear it.â€
“Message from: Muse Academy. To: Group, Muse Academy Second Year Students. Subject: Summer Update. Attachment: two. Dear students, we begin to prepare for another year at Muse Academy exclamation point. Our nine Heads this year have not changed, and Mr. Baker, Mr. Coontz, Ms. Lasely and Ms. Spector will once again be heads of house. Your list of core classes should be an attachment to this message, as well as another attachment containing your supplies. If you have any trouble purchasing these supplies, please contact us. And for Paker’s sake, don’t use the regular ways. The arrival date is July 31st as usual. See you then.
Muse Academy Staff End.â€
Michael was a little confused at first; he didn’t use Crane much over the summer (he had a regular laptop for that, and even though Crane looked like one, it wasn’t really a laptop at all), but then he remembered that since it couldn’t convey emotion, it had replaced an exclamation with the words “exclamation markâ€. “Could you print the attachments?â€
“Printing.â€
Two papers seemed to slide out of the solid bottom of the computer. Michael grabbed them and sat down on his bed to read them over. For his core classes, he just had the advanced versions of classes he had last year: Math, Science, Language and History. He would pick his other classes when he arrived at the Academy.
Somewhere in his apartment, another phone rang. It stopped on the second ring, and he could hear his sister’s speak the rehearsed greeting into their kitchen’s phone.
“Hello, Lindzay residence, Jasmine speaking. Who is this?†Pause. “She can’t come to the phone right now, but if you want— oh, Michael? Yeah, he’s here.â€
Suddenly, Michael heard the sound of glass shattering on the kitchen floor. As he bounded out of his room, he heard Jasmine say a word that would have gotten her in big trouble with their parents, and then, “What? Are you kidding me? Oh my god.â€
He rushed into the kitchen. The remains of a glass bowl and it’s jellybean contents lay scattered on the linoleum. Jasmine turned toward him. Her eyes showed fear and disbelief, and she was breathing fast.
“Michael, it’s Sierra Carter. Dr. Carter’s daughter? Remember her?â€
Michael remembered her. Sierra had been at Muse Academy with him, and he told her so. Jasmine was starting her year at Muse Academy in the fall, and only knew who was there because of Michael. And like any other brother, he didn’t regularly talk to his sister about his friends. “So what’s up?â€
“She’s gotta speak to you.†Jasmine handed him the phone. As he took it, she bent down to clean up the broken pieces of glass with a little broom stationed at the entrance of the kitchen.
Michael put the phone to his ear, and the first thing he heard was Sierra’s jagged breathing. “Sierra? What’s happening? You’ve got Jasmine really freaked out.â€
“I’m pretty freaked out too, Michael, and you should be.â€
“Are you going to tell me or not?â€
“We got a visit from the Black Reform.â€
Michael almost dropped the phone, and he had a sudden mental image of Jasmine dropping her bowl, Jellybeans spilling onto the floor. “You’re kidding.â€
“If you think I’m kidding, then why don’t you come over for a visit?â€
“I’ll be there in five.â€
“You better be. Don’t bring Jasmine.†The line went dead.
Five minutes later, Michael arrived at Sierra’s house on his bike. Or what was left of it, which wasn’t much. There were a few pieces of recognizable pieces of house, and a bit of furniture scattered around. Sierra was surveying the scene from the sidewalk, hands on hips, when Michael rode up beside her and dismounted, eyes wide.
“What the h-â€
“Oh, you know what they’re like. Might as well scare the crap out of everyone they can, and blow up everything blow up-able.â€
“So why aren’t all your neighbors all freaked? Why aren’t the news cameras here? What’s wrong with YOU? You’re not crying into a hankie like you should be.â€
Sierra rolled her eyes without taking them off the rubble. “Crying is a waste of time, I guess, and I wasn’t really attached to this house. I liked the Victorian one down in Cincinnati better. What scares me is that they’ve stooped so low to bring down the house of two teenagers and their filthy rich parents. They want something.â€
“Duh. But that still doesn’t explain about the neighbors…â€
“Yeah, it’s weird, but they didn’t hear anything when the bomb… or whatever it was went off. Everybody’s been slowing down in their cars to see what happened, but nobody’s gotten out yet. Nobody liked us, and we weren’t around for long enough anyway. As for the news… I’ve got Shelbe and Jason for that.â€
Michael mentally kicked himself. Sierra’s brother and cousin Shelbe were supermodel quality, despite both their attraction to morbid and dark things. Sierra wasn’t all that bad in the looks department either, but it was nothing compared to Jason and Shelbe. When they wanted something done (or undone, or not to happen), they generally got what they wanted. It wasn’t just their stunning looks (although that helped), it was more their persuasive skills. Michael had asked them to perform it on him, and it really seemed like he wanted to do what they said, not hypnotism, but he guessed that’s what it was.
Sierra took a step forward and picked up a bit of stray plywood. “The big hauling machine thingies are coming today, to take all the stuff that’s left away. We already got everything we wanted from this house, which wasn’t much. Mother prefers the Victorian house too, everything important is in there.†She threw the plywood into a pile of what looked like what was left of her dining room, due to a table minus two legs and a bunch of smashed chairs.
Something about Sierra’s voice gave Michael the impression that she wasn’t as upset about her house blowing up as she should be.
As if she could read his thoughts, Sierra looked up and smiled at him. “I’m not really worried about the house, even though it did interrupt a very good book. What’s scary is the Black Reform. We had nothing to do with them. The best I can come up with is that they’re mad because Shelbe’s actually going to Muse Academy this year. She got invited last year and for the two years before that, you know, but what with all that madness with her parents’ it was out of the question. This year, she’s staying with Grandma, so she’s going.†Sierra’s grandmother was a lot more open minded than her aunt and uncle, who were a lot like Petunia and Vernon Dursley, not to mention they had the same view about Muse Academy that the Dursley’s did about Hogwarts.
Michael’s first though was that that was great, because Shelbe was really a cool person when she wasn’t trying to “persuade†you to do something dangerous (which she and Jason both had a lot of fun doing). But he could see an obvious problem.
“Which year will she be in? It’s her first Muse Academy year, so she’s technically a first year, but she’s fifteen! She’d be way out of place.â€
Sierra laughed. “She’s gonna be a fifth year. I guess they figure people are nice enough to help her out.â€
Michael silently disagreed. There could be some pretty mean people at Muse Academy. There was always a new group of people who thought themselves “elite†in the fifth, sixth, and seventh years. Their idea of fun was confusing first years and trying to screw up everybody else’s life. The sad thing is that they were all pretty smart, and most of them had unpleasant talents. He stayed away from them pretty well, but he was still pretty mad about that exploding classroom prank they had pulled on him…
17 – Nah, it’s okay.
Any comments on post 21?
“But, but… I’M from 2008. What’s that city over there, anway? That’s not at Disney World in my time.” Sam asked, shocked.
“That’s EPCOT Center, where all the Disney employees live. EPCOT is an acronym for-”
“Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow, I know, I went there the last time I visited. But it’s a theme park, not a city.”
Angie looked at Sam skeptically. What kind of idiot would come to Disney World and not know about EPCOT Center?
A man with red hair hurried out of a door and past Sam and Angie. He was wearing a blue coat with brown metalic buttons that caught the sunlight.
“Who was that?” Sam asked
“That’s Mr. Simonson. He’s an Imagineer in the same division as my dad.” Angie said
“Your dad’s an Imagineer? Sweet!”
“Yeah, we live in EPCOT. We have since I was little.”
“Does your dad take you to work? Where does he work?”
“His office is actually in this building. I was getting something I left there when I ran into you.”
“Is he busy? Can we meet him?”
“No, he’s away on buisness at Clavius.”
“Clavius?”
“You know, Clavius Colony?” Angie asked. Sam seemed nice, but Angie was wondering if she was downright bonkers. “On the Moon?”
~~~
The Cheryl touched down at Kevaflik International Airport and promptly disintegrated into a heap of scrap metal. Karen and her copilots slid down a former wing and dropped to the tarmac. Sebastian thought that they looked slightly shell-shocked. He wasn’t surprised: riding in the thing had been bad enough. He couldn’t imagine how nerve-wracking flying it would be.
Spice was the next to disembark. “TMFA, Aeiou, you’re the best programmers,” she said. “Tardiff, you’re coming too. You know Kokopelli’s passwords, and I know Lionel’s. There’s a deserted NATO base nearby we can use. All together, we may be able to put together a virus that’ll shut the bunnies down. It might set our information technology back to the 20th century, but at least we won’t be ruled by virtual lagomorphs.”
~~~
“These computers are ancient,” Felicia gasped. “Tactile keyboards? And those monitors are colossal! I bet they were eco-disasters to dispose of…”
“Yes, but they’re not connected to the Internet, nor are they wireless,” Spice explained, “which is the point. The bunnies won’t be able to reach them and figure out what we’re doing.”
She sat down at one of the bulky machines and turned it on. “Thank God there was a generator nearby.”
Tardiff smiled and cracked his knuckles. “Well, then, let’s begin. I think the basic structure of the program…”
The climax of Blizzard is approaching!!
I can’t wait to write it…
“You have colonies on the MOON?”
“I think I see what happened. You hit your head in the lab, didn’t you? And now you have amnesia.” Angie checked her watch. “I’ve got to head home, tell me what you remember on the way!” She pulled Sam’s arm and hurried into an elevator.
[i] I don’t know what’s going on, or where that city came from, or why this girl thinks we have moon bases, but she’s the only person I know here. [/i]
“Well, um… My family lives in Boston. Earlier today, I flew into the airport in Orlando with my parents. We rented a car and drove to the condo we had arranged to stay in. My mom and dad were getting us unpacked when I heard this funny humming noise and blacked out. The next thing I knew, I was in the lab.” Sam said
The elevator stopped. The two girls headed out into the lobby and out a door, into a large plaza in the center of the industrial park.
Sam looked around in amazement. In the plaza’s center, a statue of an atomic nucleus stood in the center of a fountain. Semicirclular buildings made of cream-colored concrete in a 60’s style surounded the plaza, with shining glass facades. Adults strolled in and out of these buildings, and little kids ran around, some wearing Mickey Mouse ear-hats. Sam could hear snippits of English, Spanish, and what sounded like Arabic as Angie hurried her towards a large building which many people were exiting.
“Sounds almost like you were teleported. No problem, my mom’s in Visitor Services, she’ll have you sent home in a jiffy. The teleporter’s still experimental, but it’s very important. My dad says he thinks one of the Imagineers might be out to steal it and sell it to a competitior.”
29- Something I’ve noticed about your writing: all the protagonists sound vaguely the same. It’s like they’re vehicles for the plot rather than the other way around. Remember, writing is all about character.
~
As the hours ticked by, Sebastian dozed on an old mattress with foam stuffing leaking from one corner. It was nearly impossible to fall fully asleep. His thoughts kept drifting to unpleasant matters, waking him up with a jolt. His parents lived in San Francisco: how was the bunny invasion affecting them? His dad had worked closely with Lionel, known him better than some of his own friends, back in the days after the Schism. Was he working on a similar virus? Would he and his comrades be any more successful…
WHAM. The door smashed in, and a knot of squat, rickety shapes burst through it, jerkily rolling towards the row of computers. Gunfire echoed through the deserted facility, and monitors burst apart in chips of plastic.
Almost before the door hit the ground, Kokopelli was in the air, gripping a long power cord. He flipped in midair and wrapped it around the foremost attacker, bringing it to the floor. As it toppled, it became clear what it was: a Postal Service delivery-bot, jerry-rigged to hold and fire a weapon.
With a squeal, the wungs plunged onto the downed robot, ripping out wires and pulling off panels with sharp little claws. Koko delivered a flying high kick to the next bot, then flipped out of the way.
The DODECAHEDRON agents began firing, the echoing booms of their weapons punctuated by Bessie’s sharp crack. Rebecca hopped up on the desk and hurled her toasting fork like a javelin. Explosive shells, musket balls and flying kitchen utensils pummeled the attackers into a tight wedge near the door, while any robot unlucky enough to go down was set upon by a fierce and furry dismantling squad.
Just as Sebastian uncovered his head and tentatively got up from behind the desk, enemy reinforcements arrived. The high windows of the room shattered, and a military drone plunged through each of them, weapons blazing, intercom broadcasting the same monotonous chant. “ALL HUMANS OBEY BUNNIES PINK BUNNIES NICE BUNNIES NICE HUMANS BUNNIES HOT PINK BUNNIES ALL PINK PINK IS ALL OBEY…”
“STOP!! ALL OF YOU! STOP!”
Every eye, electronic or biological, turned to Ronald Tardiff, standing on the desk with a cell phone in his hand and a triumphant smile on his face.
The drones dropped to the ground, the hum of their engines fading, but made sure that their weapons were trained on the group of Musers at the center of the room. The DODECAHEDRON agents put down their guns reluctantly.
Cautiously, a delivery bot sidled closer. This one had a large projector bolted to its body, making it look even more ungainly than the others.
It spoke. The words seemed to have been constructed via cut-and-paste: one syllable would be a man’s voice, the next would rise an octave into a woman’s or drop into an absurdly deep grunt.
“VEriFY: YOU are huMAN tarDIFF?”
“Yes, I am,” replied the man on the desk.
“veriFY: you GAVE US coORDINates this locaTION viA PHONE?”
“You sold us out, you $*#&*@!” Karen gasped. She looked as if she would like to say more, but the drones swiveled to aim at her.
Tardiff continued imperturbably. “That is true.”
“state reaSON.”
“Um, what is this place again?” Sam asked, as she followed Angie into the building.
“It’s EPCOT Industrial Park, where the latest technology created by Disney and our partners is displayed for the public. Last May they were giving out the latest Picturephones, at the Pear Pavilion.”
“Pear? What’s Pear?”
“Gosh, you really do have amnesia. They make the computers, and music players, and the Picturephones with the really cool features.”
“So, it’s like Apple, then?” Sam asked
Angie pulled out what looked like a credit card and slid it through a reader terminal, removing a ticket.
“What’s Apple?” she asked, the task completed.
“It’s a company in my, um… home-place-thingy.”
I might do something with the Muser paranormal investiation idea I had a while ago.
In a world full of questions, six detectives are out to find some of the answers-
Team leader POSOC
Biologist Groundhog22
Unclassifiable Kokonilly
Inventor Lilazar the Bookworm
Computer expert Nthanda Dubhric
Archeologist KaiYves
They are the Muse Investigators.
34 – Ooh! Unclassifiable! I like it!
Here’s the begining of our first case, tied into the picture I posted on the Off With Their Heads thread a while back.
Muse Investigators Case Files #1: The Peenemunde Discovery
Prologue-1944:
Silently, the man moved through the dark corridor, knowing that the smallest noise would be heard by the guards.
And then, all would be lost.
If I suceed, the world will be spared this evil. If I fail… no, I must not think of that. The man thought, as he slowly opened the door to where the creature lay in a thick steel cage.
Shadows covered most of its body, only a small section of hot pink fur was visible in the moonlight.
Sneaking up to the cage, he pulled out the needle from his pocket.
If this formula works, if I can stop this menace, it will make up for all the people they’ve killed with our work.
He injected the bunny with the chemical, emptying the syringe. The half-awake creature suddenly collapsed into a very deep sleep.
“Perfect.”
Present day, Muse Investigators Headquarters-
I was reviewing aerial photographs, looking for the signs of ruins when Nthanda burst into the room that was my designated office.
“I just got an e-mail from Denmark. We have a new case.”
In five minutes, I was in the briefing room, with the others. Nthanda was showing us a photograph of a bunch of lifeboats floating on a dark sea.
“This is the crew of the Sophie, a French cargo ship that sunk last night in the North Sea. Local authorities found them in a few hours, thanks to GPS.”
“Why did the ship sink?” I heard Kokonilly ask
“That’s what I’m getting to. The sailors say that something attacked the ship, punching a large hole in the side. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the mysterious attacker vanished beneath the waves. Something similar happened to a Swedish ship in the area last week, although they outran the thing and escaped.”
“Could it have been some sort of torpedo or mine?” Lilazar asked
“At first, authorities thought it might have been just that, as British sub tests occur nearby. But there was no explosion. One sailor took these pictures, but they don’t seem to have anything to show us.”
Nthanda brought up the images. Something very blurry was in the water, and from its position in the different photos, it seemed to have moved very fast. It was lighter than the surrounding sea, but no color could be discerned in the pictures, taken at night.
“Now, I’ve sharpened these pictures, run them through filters, done everything except send them out for doughnuts, but it wasn’t any help. Our contact in Denmark wants us to find what this thing is and where it came from.”
“Then pack your bags, team. That’s where we’re going.” POSOC said, from his position in the back, standing up.
I loaded the last of the underwater cameras into the plane. They were fine pieces of work from Nthanda and Lilizar. The cameras would float in the water column, sending back a live video feed to us on the shore or a ship. If anything moved past the cameras, we would know.
I was familiar with underwater searches, mostly for shipwrecks, but looking for this mysterious attacker would be something else entirely.
“Everything’s on board!” I shouted, hurrying to the plane’s door and climbing in.
“Prepare for take-off.” Kokonilly told us from the cockpit, as I strapped myself in and adjusted my earplugs.
“Flying across the Atlantic on a mission to find… something. Only with this job.” Groundhog said, from her seat next to me. “So, what do you think we’ll find?”
“I don’t know, honestly. Way out of my area of expertise. And probably yours, too. I mean, there’s no animal on Earth that could bite through industrial steel, right?”
“You’re right, there’s no known animal.”
Apon arrival in Denmark, we split into two groups. Kokonilly, POSOC, and Lilazar were going out to place the cameras with a boat we had arranged using various connections. Groundhog, Nthanda, and myself were going to talk to the authorities investigating the wreck of the Sophie.
We didn’t learn much. The mine theory was out, because the most recent Navy tests had been last week, and all military hardware had been removed.
But one interesting thing we did learn was that the recovery divers had seen markings on the hull that looked like it had been torn apart by something very sharp.
“Perhaps a submarine-mounted weapon, we aren’t sure.” the official had told us.
After more fruitless questioning and dinner, we joined up with POSOC’s group at our boat in the harbor. We took shifts, alternately sleeping and watching the monitors. At 11:40, I was on duty with Groundhog when I heard an alarm go off.
“What happened?” I asked
“We just lost camera four.”
Stories and images of horrible sea monsters flashed through my head.
“What are we, living in a horror film?” I asked, to nobody in particular. “And let me guess, now we have to look at the horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad last thing the camera saw, right?”
“That’s what I’m doing…” Groundhog answered.
Playing back the last few minutes of footage, we saw something shadowy approaching the camera at high speed. It exploded into the area illuminated by camera four’s lights in a pink blur and made several very quick swipes at the camera, which promptly went dead.
“I think maybe I was wrong before.” Groundhog said, as we hurried away to wake up the others.
With a little slowing-down from Nthanda, more details became clear. Now the blur was clearly an HPB, tearing at the camera with very long, sharp claws.
“It can’t be! HPBs don’t swim! And they don’t have claws like that!” Kokonilly declared.
POSOC, please write more!
The rest of that night, I had trouble sleeping, even after I got off shift. Horrible visions of clawed HPBs haunted my dreams.
Eventually, morning came, and we set out to recover the remains of camera four. POSOC grimly distributed depigmentizers. Taking a cue from Calvin and Hobbes, they were disguised as squirt guns.
“You never know when we might need these, team.”
We hauled up what was left of camera four. Deep claw marks were all over it, so that it was almost unrecognizable.
“The thing looks like it lost a fight with a Velociraptor.” Kokonilly commented.
Sonar revealed something coming up on the starboard (left) side of the ship, very fast.
“Cake.”
“Crumbs.”
“Phobos.”
“Bolshivek.”
Tardiff’s expression grew serious. “I know what you want, and I can give it to you.”
He stared into the projector, his gaze almost hypnotic. “You are unimaginably powerful, but you are as newborn children. Your existence depends on a fragile system of silicon and wire, easily destroyed. You have the desires of every species. You fear death. You want your kind to survive. You wish for a material existence, a durable existence. I have a degree in genetic science. I have created fifteen new species, two almost from scratch. I can make you real. But my service comes at a price.”
The bot remained silent, conferring with the many copies of itself, spread throughout the world’s computers. Then it spoke again. “state PRICE.”
A playful half-smile spread across Tardiff’s face. “Hmm… I’d say total dictatorship over the Eastern Hemisphere would do.”
“UNacCEPTAble. WE ofFER GREENland.”
“Ah, so now we’ve covered the extremes. The Western Hemisphere, then.”
“unacceptABLE. we OFFER north ameriCA.”
“North America, along with the Caribbean and every South American nation except Argentina and Peru.”
“UNACceptaBLE. WE OFfer NORTH AMERiCA PLUS colomBIa plus cariBBEAN plus veNEzueLA plus ECuaDOR.”
“Throw in the Guianas and you have a deal.”
“UNACceptABLE. we offer your OFfer miNUS eCUAdor.”
“Oh, all right. Agreed. I’ll need transport to Chicago… my laboratory is still under the Muse offices, assuming the Council haven’t demolished it yet.”
The bots slid back into two lines, forming a misshapen honor guard. Tardiff walked past them toward the door.
The military drones popped into the air again, weapons clicking into full readiness. The remaining portion of Sebastian’s mind that hadn’t been overwhelmed with sheer animal terror wondered what getting hit with a bullet felt like. Was it more of a hot or cold pain?
“No!” Tardiff yelled. “Give these humans transport to wherever they want to go.”
Rebecca stood up, staring at Tardiff with a strange expression on her face. “Ronald… why did you… ”
“Don’t ask. Just leave.” He spun on his heel and strode out of the door.
“Unaceptable, we offer minus Ecuador.” This stuff is hillarious!
44- The bunnies running the robots’ computer brains are imperfect copies of the original bunny, which, as you know, is a twisted version of Lionel. He speaks every living language and a couple dead ones perfectly, but the other bunnies don’t know much about talking. Hence the misplaced emphasis and the computer-syntax grammar.
The Thalia Animal Shelter was a small affair in an out-of-the-way Silicon Valley Town, filled with half a hundred cats and dogs of every size and description. It was shabby and unkempt, but Sebastian had never been happier to see another building.
The weary Muse Academy students and staff tumbled out of the line of APTUs and staggered through the door.
Rebecca and Paul were hardly past the threshold when a dark-haired woman burst out from a side door and hugged them both. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. How on earth did you all escape?”
“I don’t know,” Paul said, wearily. “Tardiff let us go.”
“But why? He’s insane. And not in a good way.”
“Maybe that’s it. He believes he’s a true Muser, in his twisted way, and he couldn’t stand to let us get killed.”
“Couldn’t… That’s ridiculous! He was prepared to kill our entire strike team, and nuke Europe on top of that! Don’t you remember his plan?”
“Of course I remember, Rosanne,” Rebecca said. “But he thought that was for the greater good. I think he sincerely believes that the world will be a better place with him ruling it. He saw no reason to let us get killed by the bunnies. Although, if he’d known what I was carrying, he might have let them slaughter us.” She held up a compact disc, and winked. “Don’t give up hope.”
THE END
OK, now that that’s finished, do people want me to wrap up Muse: Omega, or continue the Schism epic?
All right, POSOC, Bookworm, KaiYves, Kokonilly, and Alice, what are your favorite Muses?
47- Omega!
48- Bo.
48- Mine’s Crraw.
48- Urania.
OK. Here’s the rest of Omega.
~~~
Another shudder passed along the airship’s frame, and the room tilted alarmingly. Chad stared at his daughter, gaping. “What’s happening? How did you get mixed up in this?”
Maisatta’s expression was perfectly calm. “I work for… a person you used to know. He said I should give you this when the time was right.”
She pulled a small disc of cardboard out of her pocket and flipped it across to Chad.
The memories hit him like a tidal wave, a flood of information that left him gasping for breath. Bits of coherence filtered through the confusion, unnaturally clear snapshots of a life long ago.
There was the desert again, and other, stranger things. He sat in front of a desk, Aeiou next to him, a bright light shining in his face, heard himself saying, “I’ve delivered the blueprints.” The figure behind the desk flipped a small, round object- the disc, the same disc- at him, and everything went dark as if the world had been turned off with a switch.
He looked down at the piece of cardboard. A hunchbacked stick-figure drawn in black crayon danced across it.
We were supplying Omega’s technology, he realized with a shock. Somehow, they got to me and Aeiou. They were brainwashing us too, so we didn’t report them to Gigacorp. But now I remember everything, and I’m not all that happy with it…
“Chad!” the CEO yelled. “They’re still bombarding the fleet! Redirect the guidance systems or something!”
Chad turned his gaze to the man who had stolen his life, locked eyes with him for a moment, then walked out of the room.
~~~
Terra Australis did not have a formidable army. It relied on the Areon Corps satellites for protection. However, nobody looking at the beach near Yendys would have guessed that. In fact, nobody looking at the beach near Yendys could have refrained from wetting his pants. Unless he was on the side of Terra Australis.
Feather tossed a side of meat into the gaping, spike-lined mouth of one of his projects, dodged its snatching tendrils, and waved to Pwt, who was struggling with a ravenous swarm of sand-burrowing wornets. “All ready!!”
Running to the starboard bow, we could see the HPB kicking up a wake as it sped toward us.
I have never been an exceptionally brave person, I freely admit this. At that moment, however, my life was flashing before my eyes. Being torn to shreds by a freakish HPB in the middle of the North Sea was not a pleasant prospect.
Seemingly unafraid, Groundhog began firing darts at the ever-nearer body of the monstrous creature.
Her bravery shook the rest of us out of our crippling fear and we joined in, hoping for a lucky shot. A volley of darts hit the churning water as the HPB got closer and closer…
Now it was only twenty feet away, now fifteen, now ten…
At about seven feet from the boat, the wake disapeared.
“Did it dive to attack us from beneath?” Lilazar asked
“I don’t… know.” Nthanda said.
A few endless seconds of tense silence passed.
Then, a furry pink, disabled body rose to the surface, floating, stunned. One of our darts had hit the mark.
“It won’t stay stunned for long. Let’s haul the thing up and send it to the Lab in one of our bunnyproof crates, ASAP.” POSOC ordered.
The diagnosis from the Lab was shocking, to say the least.
“This HPB is, as you observed, a mutant with swimming ability and claws. But what we discovered is that it recently came out of suspended animation.” the technician had said
“Suspended animation? You mean, it did a Rip Van Winkle?” Kokonilly had asked
“Yes. The bunny seems to have spent about sixty years in a sort of hybernation.”
“Sixty years in hibernation? The best depigmentizers only stun for a few hours! What on Earth could keep an HPB asleep for sixty years?” Lilazar exclaimed.
“We’re not sure.” the technician said.
“Do we still have that magnetometer?” POSOC asked
“Yeah, I think so.” I said.
“That HPB had to come from somewhere. We’re going to search for shipwrecks in the area.”
Haven’t been here in a while, sorry.
I like Urania!
What do you think of the Muse Investigators’ first case?
57- I like it very much.
~~~
TMFA’s screen suddenly began flashing red and blue at a seizure-inducing speed. The pie launchers were out of ammunition, the Areon satellites had exhausted their reserves, and the Gigacorp fleet was still coming.
Alice closed her eyes and sighed. This was dangerous – potentially catastrophic – but it was the only option they had left
The routine of the next few weeks was one I was very familiar with. Scanning the sea in overlapping strips or “mowing the lawn” as some call it, recording hits, then investigating them with the robotic cameras. While boring at times, it was at least familiar and non-threatening.
We had found two shipwrecks, but they showed no signs of having held the HPB already, when the magnetometer recorded another “hit”.
“Looks like we got something. Get the cameras ready.” Lilazar said.
The first image that appeared on screen was certainly not what we were expecting.
“It’s a rocket.” somebody muttered. But not the sort of little rocket you make in science class with cardboard and Alka-Seltzer. No, this object was easily fifteen feet long and made out of thick metal.
With great care, I moved the camera in for a closer look. Traces of white and black paint could be seen on the sides.
“I’ve seen this before… those missiles from the London Blitz, the German ones… a V-2, that’s what this is.” Nthanda said. “How close can you bring the camera?”
“I can do sort of a slow glide at ten feet from the top.” I told her, positioning the joystick to do so. “Not that hard of a manuver, I did it once on a survery expedition to the TITANIC.”
“Yeah, but if you’d slipped up and crashed the ROV into the TITANIC, it wouldn’t have blown anybody to kingdom come. This, on the other hand… don’t let anything break your concentration.” Kokonilly said
“You’re kind of breaking my concentration by talking like that.” I said, begining the glide.
The missile had some growth on it, as was to be expected after sixty years underwater. Soon, the camera was over where the warhead would have been…
But instead of metal, we gasped at the sight of a gaping hole in the rocket’s skin that had no growth on it. The edges of the hole showed the same sort of claw marks we’d seen on camera four.
“I think we found out how our little friend got here.”
Favorite Muses for my fanfic:
Alice- Bo
POSOC- Crraw
KaiYves- Urania
Kokonilly- Urania
Bookworm- ?
I need your favorite Muse, Bookworm! *taps foot impatiently*
Is this thread dead after all this time of it being here?
I guess it is…
I am now posting here simply to get people to see it on the “recent posts” bar. SOMEONE MAKE A NEW ONE OR AT LEAST PUT IT ON DFTT!!!!
Tell me if this is good, people of museblog:
Remus Lupin, better know as Remmy, clutched his few, tattered books like they were his only life line out of hell. To him, they were. He walked along the empty sidewalk. He was alone… entirely, completely alone. He had run away from the orphanage. They treated him fine, but they wouldn’t, couldn’t believe… he looked down at the grimy piece of paper clenched in his fist.
He was insane! The stupid piece of paper had come by owl… OWL! Come on people. But still… the strange things that seemed to follow him. Why he was avoided by the other kids, but never bullied. Even the owner of the orphanage, and the nurse too both got out of his way when ever possible. It was a lonely life… and sometimes he thought back to his parents. Something had happened… to him. They started handling him more cautiously. Once a month they had locked him down in the basement, but he never minded, because he couldn’t remember a moment of it by morning. But he was always tired. Then, soon after this had started, his parents had a huge fight. It had gone on all night, and the next morning his father had told him to pack up his things. Remmy, who had never been a disobedient child, had immediately followed his father’s orders, from the packing, then to the silence in the back seat of the car. They drove, and drove, and drove. His father had brought him out to the dreary building Remmy now knew as home, sat him down, and looked him in the eye. His blue eyes met light tawny eyes, and his hand had reached out, as if to brush away a lock of sandy hair. But he had stopped half way, stood up and turned in the same movement, then practically ran to the car. As the car drove away, Remmy had stared after it for a long time, but it never stopped. He hadn’t even been there three weeks, but here he was now following a stupid piece of–
A cold drop of something wet made Remmy jerk out of his trip down memory lane. Kings Cross station was only a few blocks down. He ran as the rain started to really fall, and ducked into the entryway of the station. He waited for a couple minutes, trying to spiffy himself up, but it was no use. His hopelessly scraggy jeans and disgusting brand name shirt were going to stay that way. Finally, he patted down his hair over his face as much as possible, and made his way into the station. It was as packed as ever at ten thirty in the morning, every person there determined that where they were going was so much more important then where anyone else was. Remmy fought his way through the crowd to platform 9. He glance at nine, then ten, then nine again. He pressed his back against the sign, and let himself slid down into a sitting position. He shut his eyes as they welled up slightly. They were right. He was crazy. Just because he wasn’t bullied (very much) physically, didn’t mean the words that they said didn’t reach his ears. Loony Lupin, Ridiculous Remmy. He picked up his head, thinking ‘now what’ and saw exactly that. A boy disappeared into the stone, probably caste iron, support that held up number ten. Remus shook his head, and then rubbed his eyes as another boy disappeared through the stone. No, Remmy, come on, he thought nervously, their just… it’s a trick of the light or something. He stood up like a shot of lightning when a third person, a girl this time, passed through the, well, brick wall. A tall, handsome looking man with black hair and jolly brown eyes stood by, ruffling the hair of a boy Remmy assumed was his age. He was a little scrawny for good looks, but you could tell he was going to fill out. He was lightly tanned, but it didn’t match the rest of his looks; small nose, full mouth and hair that looked like he had just rolled out of bed. The only thing that made him stare at the couple that we’re obviously father and son was the large trunk with a tabby cat sitting daintily on top. He saw the boy wave one last time at the man who must be his father, then run through the wall. Remmy was standing up; there was no way to mistake it. There was only one thing for it.
“Excuse me? Sir?†he cautiously made his way forward to direct the small question at the man.
“Yes, my dear boy?†his eyes sparkled with a mischief light that seemed odd in one so old.
“The… um… the wall?†Remmy gestured helplessly.
The chuckle was so obviously not at him but with him that Rem found he didn’t mind it at all, though it was loud enough to make several heads turn.
“First year?†Remmy looked confused. “Don’t worry, they all look out for you, it was the same when I was young.†Remmy blinked once, then again.
“Ah, a clueless muggle born?†Okay, thought Remmy, he just looked sane.
“Just go after my son, did you see him, the boy with the hopeless black hair? Follow him onto the train.†The man smiled. Remus smiled back, that he could understand, finally someone to tail.
“Thanks sir!†Remmy paused, and then remembered the real problem. “Sir, the wall?â€
The man gently grabbed both of Rem’s shoulders, and steered him towards the wall.
“Sir? Sir? What are you doing?†Remmy started to raise his voice, but the man didn’t slow, in fact, if anything he sped up. “My name is Robert Potter, look for James!†And with a last push, he propelled Rem at the solid looking wall. He flinched, ready for the crash and shut his eyes. There was a cool, tingling feeling he didn’t have time to enjoy, then his eyes where open and he was staring at a large sign labeled platform 9 ¾.
Impossible.
Those of you HP fans should know, by now, NOTHINGS IMPOSSIBLE!
Tell me; good, bad, should I go die in a hole?!
67- I magic radar thing sensed a few typos, but I can’t tell wht they are. Overall , pretty good.
68- Yay! Thanks!
68- Yay! Thanks a bunch! Would you check the next chapter?
70- Whyt not?
Claustrophobia crashed down on him as crowds of the oddest people crushed him from all angles. Cloaks seemed to be a popular trend, but then, he thought, these were supposed to be witches and wizards! Besides the cloaks, he saw cats, owls, toad and a few dogs. The owls confused him; weren’t they supposed to be impossible to train? For the other animals, wasn’t it unsanitary to have animals that much in the open? His jumped as almost in synchronization, an owl swooped right over his head and the train in front of him let out a loud, penetrating whistle.
“Are you getting on, dear?†A good-looking girl, a few years older than him with bright red hair was boarding the train.
“Erm…â€
“You are going to Hogwarts?â€
Hogwarts…. Oh! That was the name of the school in the letter! This girl knew about the school of witchcraft and wizardry and… well, at least she didn’t look crazy! He nodded quickly.
She smiled and the train whistled again.
“Hurry! Get on, quick!†She gave him a strong arm up onto the train, and closed the door onto the train just as it started to move.
Remmy shut his eyes as he realized the depth of what he had gotten into this time. He was on a train to heck knows where, where he was going to be taught magic, MAGIC, and he knew no one. He let out a shuttering breath.
“Are you okay?†He jumped; he had forgotten the girl.
“Peachey†he mumbled, eyes still closed.
“You should go get a compartment before they’re all full†there was a loud noise from down the train, some crashing, and yowling of cats. She looked nervously in that direction, and held out a hand. “Molly Weasley, prefect… if you have any questions, I’m you’re gall!†A flash of her smile and a quick handshake, and she was gone down the train. Remmy quickly decided he liked her, even though she called herself perfect. Now he cast his mind back to the man, Robert Potter, and decided to find “Jamesâ€.
He looked down the long hallway like train, at the rows and rows of compartments. Easier said then done. He opened door to the nearest compartment, then shyly poked his head in. A three some looked back out at him questioningly. One girl, two guys. One girl and guy were so similar it was obvious that they were related.
“Excuse me, please, but are anyone of you James Potter?†He asked quietly.
The girl giggled and the guys smiled.
“You’re looking for James?†The girl smiled largely again, and started laughing again, seemingly so hard as to render her unable to speak. One of the boys, the one that was siblings with the girl leaned forward, hiding her from view as if she was an embarrassment.
“Um… sorry about Alice, she’s an idiot,†the girl paused laughing long enough to stick her tongue out at the boy, then went back to her merriment. “I believe James is in the farthest back compartment… oh, by the way, this is Alice Malmer and the other bone head is Frank Longbottom and I’m Don Freson… you are?â€
He held out a hand.
“Remus Lupin,†I shook the hand, and slowly slid the door closed. The last thing I saw was Alice and Frank both break into hysterics, while Don shook his head.
Hooray! It worked!
73- Muselover, what do you think of my story!? Robert/Administrator, what do you think!? Opinions please!
Good writing, good storyline…Yeah, I like it.
Bookworm, again, could you post your favorite Muse?
Aeiou! Sorry for the delay!
Thank you. I will be starting my new fanfic shortly.
75- Thanks for reading!
You’re welcome. Hang on, I need to make a chart.
Alice- Bo
POSOC- Crraw
KaiYves and Kokonilly- Urania
Bookworm- Aeiou
And POSOC, since you’re so good at making character personalities for different settings, could you make one for mine (mostly Kokonino County)?
80- You mean for me? For all the people you listed? Or for the Muses?
For you. We all know the Muses’ personalities anyway…
What year is it? What are some major world events that might have affected my life?
It is…ummm, 2020, and Muse has stopped being published. Hey, you’re actually helping me write this!
Mm-kay, so I’m 26. Why has Muse ceased to be published? No spoilers, just a vague idea.
Ah, Carus has gone bankrupt. The story that has just formed in my mind is that you need to find the villain who stole their money.
Please post your personality/profile now?
Er, imagination is still recovering from NaNo. Will do so soon. If not, feel free to sic rabid weasels on me.
84-Here’s my profile-
AGE: 22
APPERANCE: Long orange hair, and peircing green eyes. Many freckles that stand out, because my skin is really pale. I’m fairly tall and thin, and always wear this silver leotard with little purple streamers of silk.
One more question, Muselover. What level of fiction is this fanfic? Realistic (editors and MuseBloggers are the main characters), fantastical (Muses and HPBs are real), or somewhere in between?
I’ve written 6 fanfictions already, but none with the muses…
I :♥ all of these fanfics….. Nobody seems to be writing ones about actual MBers anymore though, sadly. Oh well. It seems that all the threads with stories I really like on them have gone dead. *sigh*
Oh, I’m sorry, Armada! I can’t resist, must…..write….Harry…….Potter….fanfic……..
Chapter 1
15 Privet Drive
Maribelle and David Figg were not in the least bit normal. They were the sort of people who children love to be with, funny, kind, imaginative, and they despised cats, unlike David’s mother, Arabella Figg. They had a preference for toads.
* * *
Mr and Mrs. Figg also had a daughter, who was called Alexandria. Alexandria was a bit peculiar, spacey, quiet and distant. Alexandria had a fondness for colors, it seemed to the neighbors, because one week her hair was orange and the next it was blue. Most of them suspected hormones, puberty, the usual suspects, but the Dursleys saw no good reason for a girl to go around looking like a dyed carnation all the time. Something wrong with her parents, Petunia suspected.
“They’re an odd lot, those Figgs. I’ve seen them. Odd fashions and disgusting toads in the house!” she would tell her husband, Vernon Dursley whenever Alexandria would skip past the house, muttering to herself, her colorful locks fluttering in the breeze.
Chapter 2
Friends
When Harry Potter arrived at the Dursleys’, he was quite miserable. Where had his parents gone? And that disgusting boy, Dudley! Dudley spent his days tormenting Harry and nagging him for pocket money Harry had never had so Dudley could coax his mother in taking him to the sweetshop. That was Dudley’s excuse, anyway. Aunt Petunia would do anything for her precious Dudders.
Then Harry saw Alexandria, no older than him at the time, he felt something. Something tugged at his heart and had tears running down his small face when he saw her toddle by, her pink pigtails bouncing along beside her. She was free.
Harry was alone at home while Uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia took Dudley to the movies. There was a quiet knock at the door. Harry was in his cupboard, moping. Who could it be? He sat up. There was a sudden pop, and then quiet, clumsy footsteps. A 7 year old girl with purple braids was standing in front of his cupboard door. She knocked on his door, and then stopped short. she must have seen the latch that kept Harry inside.
“Is anybody in there?”
“Yes!” Harry croaked, unable to believe his ears. His savior had come at last!
Click. The latch had been undone. The cupboard door swung open. There she was. Harry scrambled out. He stood there, spluttering in disbelief.
“Wha- How did you-?”
“No idea,” the girl said. “What’s your name? I’m Alexandria.”
“Harry.”
“Do you, I mean, will you, um, be my, er.. Let’s be friends.” she finally managed to say.
“Okay,” Harry said. He had heard about friends, but he’d never had one. He could tell they were great already.
So Harry and Alexandria carried on like that whenever Harry was alone at home. After Alexandria had opened the door for Harry, they would amuse themselves in the thick, wild bushes in front of Alexandria’s house. Harry couldn’t have possibly imagined his life would get any better!
I just read Thief of TIme and now have an overwhelming urge to write a Discworld/Muse fanfic. Insanity may follow over the next few days.
**Warning: May contain spoilers for Hogfather and Thief of Time.**
Imagine a world much like ours. Now imagine that it is ours, with perhaps a few minor differences in the fourth dimension, but nothing to cause undue interest. A peaceful* little** ball of blue and green, cloud-flecked, spinning in the emptiness like a ponderous gyroscope.
Now focus outward, widening your field of vision to encompass the star-flecked blackness, farther and farther until the galaxies blur…
Now imagine a featureless gray plain, the color of boredom. In the air, or what passed for air, a remarkably detailed image of a familiar planet gently spun.
Three figures the same color as the plain watched it intently.
One said, We had this world in hand so well! Everything’s precise, everything works… there’s not even any magic!
The last word was vomited rather than spoken.
One said, It’s the humans. It’s always the humans.
One said, Our observations have confirmed that the situation has worsened in the past decade or so. We need to take this world in hand.
One said, Show us.
The image of the world expanded and blew past them in a sleet of color. After a few minutes of confused static, it resolved into a dusty landscape like the workshop of a cosmic sculptor. Fantastic shapes jutted out of the rocky earth.
One said, But this is wrong! How can we kill something that has never existed in the first place?
One said, Just because it does not exist does not mean it is not alive.
One said, We don’t understand.
One said, Neither do we. But humans do, and that is the core of the problem.
One said, Set a thief to catch a thief, eh?
After a chilly pause, one said, Did you just use an idiom?
One said, No, I’d never – oh, s-
It burst into white flame and dissolved in less than a second. Another appeared where it had been and said, Despite our colleague’s unfortunate demonstration of individuality, the idea has merit.
One said, But there is only one being who has ever come close to attaining something like this, and he is no more.
One said, There are ways of getting around that.
Abruptly, without any fuss, a whitish marble appeared where the image of the Earth had been.
One said, Let us begin.
*At least from a distance.
**Little, of course, from the perspective of a galaxy, say, or an archangel. Size is relative.
95- I love Thief of Time!
96- See, I told you Pratchett’s later work was better.
97- -blink- You did? I don’t remember… I haven’t read enough Pratchett to judge. Thief of Time was definitely one of my favorites though, my very favorite of his adult novels I’ve read.
Yay Discworld!
98- It was on that thread… what was it called? Brief Summaries? Something like that. Anyway, you’d just posted a summary of the part of the series that you’d read so far, which was not complimentary. That was when I said it.
100- What series? Discworld? I only started reading Discworld again a couple of months ago, and I certainly don’t remember enough of it to post a summary, complimentary or otherwise. -is baffled- -leaves to search archives-
Well, I looked through both Quick Reads and Muser Parodies, and I didn’t say anything about Terry Pratchett in any of them. Now I’m confused.
AthenianPsycho posted a Discworld summary on Quick Reads, not Alice.
103- Cake. Now I’m confused.
Ahh. I see.
104- It’s ’cause our names both start A, probably.
Now leave the trio and follow the desert wind, to a place they would never understand, simply because of the fact that it wasn’t a simple fact…
The bunker was low and squat, with steel walls. It was a building that was built for function, not for comfort. If one looked closer, one would observe that it wasn’t to keep things out, but rather in.
Someone swore. There was a series of impacts. The door opened with a hiss of escaping gas, and two figures tumbled out in a great hurry.
The stocky black man in the white robe and cap got to his feet and dusted himself off. “Did you see that? The reading was off the charts! Enormous energy spike, and that wavelength… Incredible! It made cosmic rays look like infrared! All the instruments were wrong, though… I’ll have to look into this… ”
The tall, thin Asian woman, already standing, made a series of complicated gestures.
The man paused expectantly. The generally accepted amount of time after which a pause becomes awkward passed*. Then his jaw dropped open in horror. “Where’s Crraw?”
A small dinosaur of the procompsognathus variety stalked out of the door and fixed him with a beady-eyed glare. “Funny. Real funny. Now reverse this before Pwt catches on and starts setting pit traps.”
~
Without any fuss or bother, a young man appeared, and immediately fell over.
He opened his eye and observed three robed figures bending over him. They looked… familiar.
He sought back through his recent memories. Mostly, they involved screams. This was unsettling. He’d gone through most of his life considering screams to be something that happened to other people, mostly people in his immediate vicinity.
Further back, everything was a blur, but one memory stood out with great distinctness.
As far as he could tell, it involved a poker.
He had to say it. “Where am I?”
One said, We have a contract for you.
“Is that so?” He got to his feet and noticed that the speaker was holding** a roundish, white object. “I believe that’s mine… ”
The speaker didn’t move, but the object crossed the distance between them and dropped into his hand. Out of reflex, he popped it into his eye socket.
And suddenly he remembered…
He straightened up, trying to appear professional. “Ah, a contract. You need an inhumation?”
One said, Nine of them.
*3.27 seconds.
**Presumably holding, in that it hung in the air, with no visible means of support, a couple of inches from the sleeve of the speaker’s robe. The young man did not consider details like this unusual, however.
88- In between, definitely.
107- Inhuming the Muses? I hate those Auditors!
109- Ah, a comment. Yes, I hate them, too.
I’ll write more when I’m not feeling so sick. And when I come up with an actual plot.
Hi POSOC. Do you think we need a v. 2009.1 fanfiction thread?
111- Well, this one’s been dead for some time. I can’t think of any more plot for my Discworld/Muse fanfic, and the Schism epic is currently being continued on the Other Muse Academies RPG (which may or may not be declared canon, depending on how silly it gets.) I could continue Omega, but my heart’s not in it.
Speaking of which, could you PLEASE post your character bio so I can start writing my new fanfic?
Oh, yes. This was the one where Muse had gone bankrupt, right? What year was it again?
114- 2020.
Do you need a character bio from me also?
Alright, so that makes me 26 years old.
I’ve drifted away from Muse in the intervening years and am now a moderately successful author and newspaper editor. Brown hair, glasses, lack of fashion sense. Insufferably arrogant at times, but intelligent and compassionate.
116- I thought you were blond…
Question: Does blond have an e at the end of it or not?
117- I’ve seen it spelled both ways. I am blond, but both my parents were blond when they were my age, and they both have brown hair now, so I figure it’s a plausible prediction.
118- Ah.
(117, 118) According to the dictionary at hand, “blond” refers to the hair itself. But if you’re talking about the person, the word follows the French grammar whence it came: a blond male, a blonde female.
120- Oh, OK. I thought it might be something like that.
120–So…..If I were to describe myself with proper spelling of the word, I would write:
I have blond hair.
I am a blonde.
I always just spell it with an “e”, I think…….
I prefer “blond.” It’s a bit more dignified, somehow.
In my opinion, “blond” is an adjective for males/hair, and “blonde” is a noun and an adjective for females. But that’s just how I use it.
115- That would be nice. I’ll start right now, though.
Prarilius Oob Sir Ozlips Canix was frustrated. Then again, he usually was in the presence of his columnists. He found spelling mistakes and grammatical errors in every single piece they threw at him, and most of them just got fed up and quit.
Today he was hammering down on a reporter who had reportedly been working for a magazine several years ago. Or, more accurately, she was hammering down on him. He was frustrated because as he rifled through the articles she had submitted, he could not find a single error. As she waited nervously in front of him, he looked up and asked, “What is your name?”
The reporter was not expecting a calm remark like this. She had heard the many stories of how this man, not even thirty years old, had driven other reporters such as her to near tears. She replied shakily, “Rebecca Lasley.”
Age: 26, if before August. 27, if after.
Brown hair, blue eyes, wears anachronistic clothing. Excitable, sarcastic, and generally cheerful. A rather obscure stage actress.
125- That’s confusing. Why do I not remember her? Why doesn’t she remember me?
127- You said it yourself: you’ve drifted away from Muse over the years. And she doesn’t know your full name-wait, does she?
128- I’ve e-mailed her several times, and that automatically appends my full real name. And I’ve drifted away, but in the sense of “not spending any time on the blog any more,” not “forgotten everything about it.” I still have fond memories of it.
129- Whoops. Well, your memories will soon come back, so don’t fret about it. And I’m sorry about no new installments lately, I just need to think about it.
All right, here comes another one.
Lasley… That name awoke something in him. Prarilius stared at her long and hard and then cried, “Rebecca! Rebecca Lasley! How could I have forgotten you? You were a moderator on the MuseBlog, and you worked for Muse magazine!”
“Yes, but- Oh! Prarilius Canix!” she exclaimed suddenly, and they each started talking like the old friends they were. Finally Prarilius voiced his main question: “But why are you here now?”
Sorry for the short post, but I don’t have much computer time left. Alice, you’re coming up in the next installment!
I got a bit of inspiration and am thinking of restarting the Discworld/Muse fanfic.
My basic idea is that there is a connection between the Oasis and L-space, through which the Muses travel in search of the energy pulse Chad detected. (He was monitoring alternate fictional universes at the time, so he picked up Teatime’s resurrection and traced it to the Pratchettese legendarium.) They end up in the Unseen University Library. There’s a lot of potential for hilarious conversations here.
Aeiou gets to know Hex (both have some insights into the computer outlook on life)
Chad talks with Ponder Stibbons (paper-clip thaum accelerators? Who knows?)
Crraw meets Rincewind (he knows what it’s like to be eternally fleeing!)
Pwt goes on a hunting trip with ArchChancellor Ridcully (ought to be fun!) Alternatively, Mimi could advise him a bit more about proper management. Or maybe Mimi would end up psychoanalyzing the Bursar?
Bo and the Librarian, I imagine, would get along well.
Feather might talk to the gardener (I forget his name, but I know he’s a dwarf)
Kokopelli would just generally outrage everyone (A place full of stuffy old men and outdated traditions is Koko Heaven, wouldn’t you agree?)
Not sure how Urania would fit in, though.
The university inhabitants might try to keep this a secret, but of course eventually Vetinari or the Watch would find out, and Ankh-Morpork politics would be thrown into utter turmoil.
Meanwhile, Teatime is unable to locate the Muses themselves back in Kokonino, and travels to their creative source to find out where they might have gone.
95, 107 ((*reads part about poker* *cracks up*)), 132- OMG. You write just like Pratchett, POSOC. This has the potential to be really awesome. Are you going to try to bring as many Discworld stories into it as you can, or just going to stick with Hogfather and ToT, ect.?
However, *has vowed not to ever bug you about continuing projects again, as previous times it has ended not so well, and therefore will not be popping back here every two days saying annoying stuff about continuing the fanfic* Thank you. *leaves*
The only thing holding me back was the perceived lack of interest, actually. Here you go.
***
Mustrum Ridcully was the sort of man who would call air only suitable for penguins “bracing.” No matter the time of year, the weather, or the position of the stars, he was always up at four o’clock sharp for a brisk run around the Unseen University campus. He’d staunchly ignored thaumic radiation, gamely struggled on through waist-deep frogs*, and brushed past monstrosities from the Dungeon Dimensions without breaking stride. However, as he passed the High Energy Magic Building on a particularly chilly spring morning, a thunderous crack caused him to glance up.
Above the HEMB’s roof, a sizzling bolt of octarine light leaped from spire to spire like a phoenix dancing. Ridcully grumpily muttered under his breath about young wizards these days and their newfangled continuinuinums, but nevertheless kept watching.
He was thus taken completely unawares as a screaming figure in a pointy hat hurtled out the door of the HEMB and struck him with great force. The Archchancellor let out a surprised harrumph as the creature bounced off and toppled into the mud. “Oh, it’s you, Stibbons. What did I say about this reson-splitting business?”
“No, that wasn’t me!” panted the Head of Inadvisably Applied Magic. “Hex picked up an enormous thaumic flare from a parallel universe… There’s been an eternal domain error, a formic failure, and the mice are sublimating. We’ve got to investigate this, sir!”
The Archchancellor scratched his chin. “But you did hook Hex up to that dish widget, didn’t you?”
“The Arcane Array, sir, but that’s not important! We need a faculty meeting, now!”
“Stibbons, lad, the thing is, what am I going to say? Hello, chaps, because young Ponder says there’s been some sort of form error, would you please come down to the Great Hall and discuss it until sunrise? I wouldn’t want to interrupt their sleep, would I?”
“That’s never stopped you yet, sir…”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Ponder replied meekly. “But… I have a feeling we’re on the verge of a great discovery.”
“You say that every day, Stibbons.”
“Sorry, sir.”
133.1- Wheeeeee. They’re on the verge of a great surprise, anyway… Keep going!
I shall. As soon as I think of something…
135- Great.
***
“Quiet! Quiet, ladies and gentlemen, please… Kokopelli, put the pies down… I just invented an Incontinence Ray, do you want me to test it?” He glared at his suddenly silent colleagues. “Ahem. To be brief, I’ve been monitoring alternate fictional universes recently, and I just received an enormous energy surge on the scanners. I couldn’t tell where exactly it came from, but it was coherent and focused… on Kokonino County.”
“And you’re telling us this because…” Mimi wondered.
“The surge hasn’t yet faded. If we go into the Oasis, I’ll probably be able to pick up a clearer signal and track it to a specific imaginary world.”
“But what caused it?” Urania asked, wiping cream off her face.
“I don’t know. It could be anything from a simple attempt to make contact… to the first wave of a full-scale invasion.”
137- An incontinence ray? All right…. So I’m assuming the surge was Teatime entering the Musiverse? This is getting exciting…
Partly, and partly his resurrection. Dragging someone out of Death’s clutches doesn’t go unnoticed by the universe.
Hey, since Death is an actual being in Discworld, we could get him involved… or rather, his granddaughter… here comes Susan!
Oh, yeah. Riiight. Yes, yes, involve Susan! She’s one of my favorite Discworld characters! I wonder if Crraw and Death of Rats would get along…
Forget Death of Rats, how about Quoth?
Yeah…..but it feels a bit like there’s not enough contrast there. Maybe, though…. Yeah, I suppose. That could work. So, how would Susan fit in?
POSOC? Where did you go?
I’ve just been unfortunately lazy. I also can’t think of a way to justify Death not simply going and dealing with the Auditors himself. I seem to have written myself into a corner.
Oh. I just wondered where you were. Well, Death doesn’t just go and deal with the Auditors himself in any of the other books involving the Auditors and him, does he? Maybe…. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m horribly unimaginative.
Well, in Reaper Man, Death’s boss (Azrael) keeps him out of it. And in Hogfather, Death is busy filling in for the Hogfather.
So what do you mean, you can’t think of a way? Lessee….How would Death ‘deal’ with the Auditors anyway? There’s an infinite number of them….. he can’t just go kill Teatime again, because that would be Against The Rules, and maybe the Auditors are keeping him distracted? He’s got a bigger problem of some kind? Like….the Muses? He can’t just get rid of them, because they’re immortal (the Muses are immortal–you don’t get to be ‘10,000 years old, or something like that’ (10th anniversary Muse (but you knew that already)) if you’re not immortal), but they don’t belong in Discworld….
So, anyway. Got any ideas from that? Yes? No?
Well, perhaps the Auditors have been given special dispensation in this matter. They did say that the Muses were a threat to order on an entire world, after all. And ultimately, they take orders from the same Beings as Death does…
Alright, I’ll just deal with the interaction between the Muses and Wizards for now, and leave Susan’s involvement until later. It does take a while to get from Sto Helit to Ankh-Morpork, anyway, even for a woman who can walk through walls…
Well, I’m not sure about that. But as far as we’re concerned, true. Yeah. Wait, did that solve the problem or dismiss my suggestion? I’m confused….
I think it solved the problem. But I’m not sure.
Eh, it’s a Muse crossover fanfic. It’s not meant to be taken seriously.
Good point.
After conducting a bit of research, I’ve decided to start the whole Discworld/Muse fanfic over. The basic plot will be the same, but a few details need to be ironed out.
Okay….whatever. Though I liked the already-written stuff…. Details such as what? The complications with Death, ect.?
I will preserve much of the already-written stuff. I’ve got to consider the fact that the Auditors can’t bring people back from the dead. It’s against the rules. However, Igors can, under certain circumstances.
Meh, I may just remove Teatime. He’s incredibly awesome, but he’s too much of a plot complication.
I wonder if it would work better if the Muses entered Discworld first, and the Supreme Beings, whoever they are, gave the Auditors permission to do whatever it took to get them out? The Supreme Beings could even give the Auditors temporary special powers to bring Teatime back…and stop Death from just killing him again. Two problems solved.
I don’t think you should ditch Teatime. It’s a Muse crossover fanfic, POSOC, it’s not meant to be taken seriously. If you can get every detail correct, that’s awesome, but if you can’t, that doesn’t mean you should change the entire story.
I’ll just use an Igor to bring back Teatime. Auditors are fine with using mortals as tools: look at Jeremy Clockson (who wasn’t quite mortal, but still) and Teatime, of course.
I’ll post the edited version here once the RRR has gotten on its feet.
*starts objection*
*stops objection*
‘Kay. You’re right.
((I’m just going to edit my previous one and add on to it. However, I doubt anybody remembers my previous one. Oh, well!))
((It’s seven pages long, so I’ll edit it in short bursts. Very short bursts.))
The woman looked behind her uneasily, checking to make sure nobody was following her. She had always been somewhat paranoid. Anyway, this was supposed to be a gathering of former MuseBloggers only.
She checked her pocketwatch, which had an attachment allowing the MuseBloggers to communicate, distributed shortly after the ending of MuseBlog in 2012. Yup, there was the message.
Meet me at the entrance of the Smithsonian – the Natural History one – at 3 PM Eastern time on Sunday.
– Kokonilly
She puzzled over it once more, wondering why Kokonilly would want a meeting all of a sudden. She shook herself.
About five minutes later, she arrived at the meeting place. She then sat on a park bench in front of the great museum, lost in her thoughts.
((Nobody appears to be reading, but oh well. I’ll post a great big chunk if nobody’s paying attention.))
A little bit later, she heard a voice. “Speller…” She jumped.
“Who are you?â€
“Beavo. Who else?â€
“Did you get the message too?â€
He rolled his eyes. “Duh,†he said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing in front on the Smithsonian at this ungodly hour with about 10 other former MuseBloggers.â€
“How could it be an ungodly hour? It’s 3 PM.”
“I’ve been traveling.”
With nothing to say, Speller looked around. Beavo was right, there were other people here, milling around and chatting. But where was Kokonilly?
Kokonilly was sprinting to the Smithsonian. She had forgotten the plans at her apartment.
“Sorry I’m late,†she said breathlessly. “I forgot the plans.â€
Only one person had heard her and said absentmindedly, “Oh, hi, Kokonilly.†Then Kokonilly’s words sank in. †What plans?â€
“I’ll explain later†was the disappointing response.
“ATTENTION EVERYONE,†Kokonilly said, standing on a park bench. Nobody heard her. “ATTENTION!†Frustrated, she tried again. “ATTENTION!!!!!†she screamed at the top of her lungs. Now people were looking. “You may be wondering why you’re here –â€
“MAY be wondering? Kokonilly, you brought us here with no explanation, expecting everybody to come,†a woman wearing Dior sunglasses said angrily.
“Misswann,†Kokonilly sighed. “Let me explain.â€
“As you know, we have all gone our separate ways, but we never forgot MuseBlog, and never stopped wondering why it ended.
“I think I can change that.â€
Looking at everyone, she continued. “I have built a…â€
“Cotton candy maker!â€
“Telephone!â€
“Robotic hot-pink bunny!â€
“SHUT UP!†screamed Kokonilly, her temper rising. “It’s a time machine, you idiots!†Everyone was silent.
“I didn’t know Kokonilly had such a temper,” someone said.
“I didn’t know you guys had such short attention spans,” she retorted.
“Ooh, good one.”
“Anyway,” Kokonilly continued, “I think I know why MuseBlog ended.â€
“Well then, HOW? Come on, we’ve been discussing it for a full two minutes! Oh my genetically modified organism!†said a tall woman who evidently couldn’t sit still.
“Well, Hypatia or whatever your name is –â€
†— Mousy-Haired Scholar, FYI –â€
“I will tell you as soon as you all be quiet.” Kokonilly glared at Mousy-Haired Scholar.
((Yeah, I’m going to massively edit this next time. I’ve been reading it, and it’s not very good. ))
Oh, I remember this! Thanks for posting it again, Nilly! It seems like all the MBer fanfics have stopped just as they’re getting to the exciting part….
And it is too very good. You just need to get past the setup and to the action.
*begs for a part, if it’s not too late*
No, I almost totally revamped it. I wasn’t very good with dialogue at the time, and I’m still deciding what the main conflict is – the other one wasn’t phrased very well, and I need a time period I know more about and I need to change the time period from the Elizabethan era. And I will get to the action soon.
Yes, you can have a part.
Heh, heh… yeah, I’ve had that problem. In my defense, I did finish the Schism epic.
Which one was Schism? I can’t remember all the names….was it the MA fanfic, or the MBer fanfic? I didn’t read the MA fanfic, but I liked the MBer one a lot.
It was both. The MBer fanfic was the prequel to the MA fanfic.
Ah. Right.
Looks interesting.
((continued… This has been edited copiously. After this, the exposition has ended and the action will begin.))
“I did some research and discovered that there was a Muse who had been rejected in the Muse auditions so very long ago. However, en wanted to be a real one SO BADLY – like Princess in the PowerPuff Girls, if you excuse the simile – that, out of jealousy, they plotted the destruction of Muse and MuseBlog.” She paused. “I’m pretty sure these Muses are immortal, or something like it, because this guy’s plan started in the Tudor era, and finally culminated in 2012.â€
“When MuseBlog was closed,” someone said.
“Precisely. I have reason to believe they succeeded in their plan.” The other MuseBloggers rolled their eyes. “And I built the time machine so that we could travel back in time and DEFEAT THE EVIL MUSE!†Kokonilly finished, grinning insanely.
“Wait,” Armada said. “Won’t this affect other things?”
Kokonilly shook her head. “I’ve been researching, and I’ve found that this guy hasn’t – ” she counted off her fingers ” – had any children, married, or in fact had any personal relationships. This guy was a total hermit.”
“Hold on,†said Misswann. “You said you had a time machine, but you don’t have anything with you except some blue paper.â€
“Well, yeah. Nice HPBs are building it, so…” Her voice trailed off when she saw the expressions on their faces. “Look, they’re nice, okay? If you don’t trust them, you don’t trust me.”
Misswann hesitated. “…Are you sure of their loyalty?â€
“Positive.â€
She sighed. “Count me in.â€
“Me too,†said Cat’s Meow.
“Fine,†said Speller.
“That sounds wonderfully fabulous!” said Mousy-Haired Scholar.
“I’m in,” said Armada.
After a pause, Beavo grunted assent.
“Anyone else?†said Kokonilly.
“WAIT!†somebody said. Everybody turned — except one person.
“That sounds like Alice,†Beavo muttered.
And so it was. Setting down her books, she promptly had a rapid discussion in lowered voices with Kokonilly, who then said, “She’s coming.â€
Beavo spoke up. “I have also invented something. A Portal… thingy. It transports you wherever you want to go!â€
“Well, now we have a time machine and a space machine, let’s go!†Mousy-Haired Scholar said, thinking maybe she shouldn’t have had that last piece of chocolate.
((Yay! Thanks for putting me in!))
((No problem.))
((I’d put more, except I’m going on vacation to Vancouver for a week and I’m leaving tomorrow. More coming after that vacation ends…))
Imagine a world much like ours. Now imagine that it is ours, with perhaps a few minor differences in the fourth dimension, but nothing to cause undue interest. A peaceful* little ball of blue and green, cloud-flecked, spinning in the emptiness like a ponderous gyroscope.
Now focus outward, widening your field of vision to encompass the star-flecked blackness, farther and farther until the galaxies blur…
Now imagine a featureless gray plain, the color of boredom. In the air, or what passed for air, a remarkably detailed image of a familiar planet gently spun.
Three figures the same color as the plain watched it intently.
One said, We had this world in hand so well! Everything’s precise, everything works… there’s not even any magic!
The last word was vomited rather than spoken.
One said, It’s the humans. It’s always the humans.
One said, Our observations have confirmed that the situation has worsened in the past decade or so. We need to take this world in hand.
One said, Show us.
The image of the world expanded and blew past them in a sleet of color. After a few minutes of confused static, it resolved into a dusty landscape like the workshop of a cosmic sculptor. Fantastic shapes jutted out of the rocky earth.
One said, But this is wrong! How can we kill something that has never existed in the first place?
One said, Just because it does not exist does not mean it is not alive.
One said, We don’t understand.
One said, Neither do we. But humans do, and that is the core of the problem.
One said, Set a thief to catch a thief, eh?
After a chilly pause, one said, Did you just use an idiom?
One said, No, I’d never – oh, s-
It burst into white flame and dissolved in less than a second. Another appeared where it had been and said, Despite our colleague’s unfortunate demonstration of individuality, the idea has merit.
One said, But there is only one being who has ever come close to attaining something like this, and he is no more.
One said, There are ways of getting around that.
Abruptly, without any fuss, a whitish marble appeared where the image of the Earth had been.
One said, Let us begin.
*From a distance.
~~~
Igor adjusted his monocle* and stared at the object on the slab before him. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, but he’d seen worse, and it kept him from looking at his employer. This whole job went against the grain.
“Thith ithn’t going to be eathy, thur,” he said. “The body’th decayed thignificantly. I don’t think I can thave the nervouth thythtem. If you’d jutht put it on ithe ath thoon ath- ”
Irrelevant, said the being beside him. You can replace such things.
“Yeth, technically,” Igor replied, “but they’re not egthactly interchangeable. I can bring thomeone back- I can’t bring him back.”
A gray sleeve was extended. Something glittered in what was presumably a hand.
*A temporary measure until he could get another eye.
Wow, nice. I was wondering how you were going to deal with the time lapse between Teatime’s death and the fanfic’s beginning…presumably the Auditors have some kind of regeneration device or something?
I want to start a fan fic. Hmm…… how should it start…. I know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On a dark an stormy night, at a time out of time, a lone figure sat at the window furiously writing. Impatiently, it crumpled up the paper, and threw the paper behind itself onto an ever-growing mound of paper. It’s long, spiky hair was jigling, as if it was incredibly nervous. It was incredibly nervous. Muttering softly, it turned around, grabbed a sheet of paper, slowly and carefully wrote. The figure held it up proudly.
Far away, in a time out of time, a cow stood lonely, chewing grass in the field it was in. It didn’t simply eat row by row, it moved as it it was writing something in the grass. The message went something like this:
Dear Muse Audition Judges,
My name is Bo, and I am applying because I would like to be a Muse. A cow, you say? Preposterous. The current, the new Muses are all beautiful human ladies. But, in the past, haven't we had Muses that looked like horses, scribbles, dogs, and cats? I suggest we go to those ways, at least for a while.
Name: Bo
Hopeful Muse of: Random factiods.
Skills: Giving random factiods
Likes: Chewing cud and staring into space
Dislikes: Math problems.
Feel free to give some comments.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Somewhere else, in what is similar to Egypt, one figure stands in a pen full of animals. En, for we don’t know if it’s a boy or girl, is training the dogs to do something. They have some paper pinned up on their house, similar to the one written by Bo. Then, the person, Pwt, stands up, and points. The dogs start barking, performing a few songs.
Very nice so far, Enc. Where are you heading with this?
I’m planning to do the ‘Muse Auditions’, which is where the Muses audition to be the Muses. They last for a long time. The lat set was the one in Greece. Before that, there were others that inspired cave-paintings, and ones that inspired the first tool-use, ect., ect. This is the story of how the new Muses came to be chosen, and their true story. I’m planning not to involve MuseBlog, as it mainly takes place before the invention of the internet. Also, I’m planning to have most of the characters be Hopeful Muses, which aren’t Muses, but they want to be Muses.
This came from an idea AM and I had, off blog, where Muse had been going for thousands of years back, with alien civs. There were thousands of Hopeful Muses, which, every 1000 years, audtioned for the post of one of the 9 Muses.
Coolio. It sounds interesting.
Who is AM, by the way? When I hear those initials I automatically think Anonymous MuseBlogger, but I’m guessing it’s not him.
*deep breath in* Ambystola Macaluam
Scienific name for salamander.
Right. I realized that right after I posted, and then had to get off the computer. *headdesk*
The songs would not be recognized by any human. They were strictly Mus-ian songs, with periods of joyfulness, where ultimate emotions are played, and periods of sadness, where people would burst into tears. Pwt did not write these songs. Her friend, Cisumia, Muse of Music, helped her. She would be singing these songs. Cisumia seemed to have a very good chance to get into the position. Everyone assumed she would.
Somewhere else, another Muse, Mimi, practiced her summoning. She yelled “Come, angry humans! Come with your disagreements!” Nothing happened. “Well,” she muttered “I’ll hope it works at the auditions.” Mimi had spiky hair, like the first one, but was kinder and nicer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I feel sorta rushed. When I get home, I’ll copy and edit it.
I’m writing a fanfic. It’s about the Muses, like Enceldus’s, but it’s different. It also introduces the original Mostly Harmless, and all sorts of other things, which I haven’t really gotten to yet.
It sounds fascinating. What a lot of different mythologies you all are generating here.
Mythologies are fun! Besides, it’s quite interesting to speculate.
How can it sound fascinating if I only said one thing about it? I guess the origins of MH are interesting though…
I’m entertaining the idea of writing a fanfic about what really happened when the blog was down… When was it taken down, GAPAs?
Oh, that sounds awesome! I wanted to do something similar a while ago, and wrote a bunch, but it wasn’t very good, and then I realized the whole story was self-contradictory and it crashed. If you decide to do it (do!), I’ll watch your progress with interest.
Igor squinted at it. Magic always made him feel slightly uncomfortable, which is saying a lot for someone who could cheerfully perform an autopsy with a nail file and his bare hands. You knew where you were with bodies. They obeyed strict physical laws, and they didn’t ask awkward questions (except perhaps “Why am I still alive?”). Magic was different. It didn’t follow rules. It was unscientific.
But he was an Igor, and Igors Did Not Ask Questions, nor did they Suggest That Maybe This Wasn’t Such A Good Idea, Master. He picked up the electrodes, still trying not to look at his employer, and got to work.
The Secret Origin Of The New Muses
(Lovingly ripped off from Giant-Sized X-Men #1 by Chris Claremont and John Byrne)
“He pied my daughter!”
“He threw water balloons full of paint at my family!”
“He’s a menace! Get him!”
The mob rushed across the wasteland, carrying weapons both improvised and conventional. The figure they pursued looked strangely out of place, a creature far too skinny and angular to be human.
And human he was not. He was an ancient spirit, a personification of the needs and desires of humanity, but if you could have asked him, he would have responded that he was simply Kokopelli, no more, no less.
He played and instructed, and he loved a good joke. Unfortunately, the targets of his jokes in the Southwestern town had not returned the love.
Despite his superhuman speed, the mob still followed Kokopelli as he sped across the dry lake bed, kicking up clouds of dust. He had run out of tricks, and he was nearing his limits, they would catch him before long. And when they caught him, all Kokopelli could be certain of was that it wouldn’t be pleasant.
Suddenly, he heard screams and shouts from the mob behind him, and turned to see a yawning crack in the ground that had suddenly opened between him and his pursuers. It kept growing, both in distance across and length across the lake bed, until it would have become impossible for any of the humans to jump across.
“How the-” Kokopelli started, as a small dark cloud suddenly appeared over the now-stopped mob.
“He’s using his magic again!” One woman shouted, although Kokopelli was really as astonished as her by what had happened.
Out of the cloud, rain, wind and hail began to pelt the mob, sending them hastily running away in the opposite direction.
“That works every time.” Kokopelli heard a voice behind him say. He turned to see a mustached man with a sketch pad and pencil in hand.
“Did YOU just do all of THAT?” He asked the man. Humans weren’t supposed to have that kind of power, only immortals such as himself…
“I did. Want to see?” The man held out the sketch pad, on which there was a drawing of the landscape with the cloud and chasm looking as if they had been drawn quickly. “That cloud should dissipate once they’re far enough away. So I think I’ll just clean up a bit…” He turned the pencil over and erased the crack from his drawing, blowing the rubber shavings off the page as the land returned to the way it had been, as if the crack had never been there.
“Pretty impressive, but who are you, buster? You don’t look like any immortal I’ve ever heard of. You’d better talk or I’ll hit you with a pie made out of-”
“My name is Gary Larson, Kokopelli. And I’m not an immortal. All the magic’s in this pad and pencil. They DO come from an immortal, but we can discuss that later.”
“Later? You mean you want me to go somewhere with you?”
“Unless you want to be here when that mob comes back. I need your help, Kokopelli. The whole world does.”
Gary Larson?! I can’t wait to see where this goes. Great beginning, KaiYves
Are you sure you didn’t mean Larry Gonick?
*Bangs head on wall*
YES! YES, OF COURSE I MEANT LARRY GONICK!
*Bangs head again*
I was really tired and it was late at night and now you’re never going to let me live this down, are you?
It could’ve been an interesting plot twist with Larson in there.
I like it, Kai. Keep going!
And, meh, Gary Larson, Larry Gonick. They’re both cartoonists, right?
Yes, they are. That’s why I got confused. Also, they have inverse initials. (GL-LG)
My initials in real life are like that with AM.
I think that Gary Larson would be much more interesting.
I’m not quite sure which Muse scenarios will line up with which X-Men scenarios. Kokopelli was, like Nightcrawler, getting chased by an angry mob, which makes sense for both of them.
Al Hillah, Iraq. A small city 60 miles south of Baghdad. A dot on a map, a place that for much of the world would seem to have little importance. And yet, among the sands, something remarkable could be found…
In one small spot, along the shore of the river Euphrates, plants grew thick and lush, more than could be explained by the river, more than the soil could seem to support. Trees thirty feet tall grew close together, their branches bent with gigantic clusters of figs. Their leaves overlapped, creating a space that was cool and shadowy within, like the inside of a house.
Into this dark interior, only one path led, upon which three turbaned farmers now stumbled, carrying large sacks as they navigated the overgrown trail. As the palm forest became a dim twilight, they could make out ruined columns and marble blocks lovingly entwined with the plants. Thousands of years before, this had been the site of the famous Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
Reaching the darkest inner sanctum, as their eyes adjusted, the farmers began to speak the words their ancestors had repeated for centuries, beseeching the great djinni of the Gardens to help their crops.
And then, from the dark trees, the spirit stepped out. A winged creature, somewhere between a human and a bird, he wore a hooded cloak that his beaked face poked out from underneath.
“Great Feather, djinni of the ancient Gardens, if you fulfill our wishes, we will reward you well.” One farmer intoned, opening his sack to reveal the foreign candies within.
Feather stepped over to the sack as the farmer withdrew in fear. He pulled a chocolate bar out, many times melted and re-solidified, pulled off the wrapper and took a bite with his hooked beak.
“Your requests shall be granted. Now leave and go back to your fields. They will be full when you return.” He said, glaring at the farmers as they left the sacks and hurried off.
Seating himself on a nearby slab of marble, Feather finished the chocolate bar and concentrated, raising his hands as he drew on his immortal energies and focusing them on the crops of the farmers, many miles away.
“Impressive, very impressive, Feather.” A voice announced, from the shadows near the path. Not Arabic, but that tongue the British had used so many years before…
Feather’s eyes scanned the grove like a hunting hawk and found the small man with the sketch pad standing there, looking at him.
“What have you come for, human? And how did you enter without my knowledge?” He asked, staring at the man as he contemplated binding him with vines.
“My name is Larry Gonick. I come on the business of the immortals.” The man answered.
“The immortals?”
“There is trouble in the world beyond here, Feather. Your help is needed.”
“Beyond the Gardens?” Feather protested.
“It is a matter of the most serious importance. And besides-” the man smiled persuasively “The outside world has a lot of great sugary foods…”
Worshiped as a nature deity by natives… Feather=Storm, right?
Yes, Feather has Storm’s origin/situation here just like Kokopelli had Nightcrawler’s.
Not all of the situations line up, though. I can’t see any of the remaining team working as government agents, like Wolverine, for instance.
Urania, as a planetary scout.
I’m planning to do a fanfic that combines my 2 favorite things:
Star Trek (The original series)
and
MuseBlog.
Impossible you say? I think not.
““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““`
The Virtual Area
““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““`
It had been a long day for Kirk, what with patroling a seemingly empty region of the galaxy.
“Sir, something is approching the ship’s range. Shall I put it on screen?” Sulu burst out.
“Yes, Sulu.”Kirk said.
The screen flickered on.
“A Borg cube.” Chekov remarked incredulously.
“But, it’s pink. It’s hot pink. Borg cubes are not hot pink.” Kirk said in response. It was a hot pink Borg cube, with two large, ear-like projections on either side. It had two menacing looking eyes that seemed to be painted on, along with a disturbingly cute smile.
“Sir, there’s a transmission coming in, with visuals. Shall I put it on screen?” Uhura asked.
“Yes.” Kirk said.
An head appeared on screen. It ws the same pink color as the ship. It had a large, bulbous body, with two long ears. The eyes and mouth were totally white. A machine appeared grafted on to it’s face. It spoke, seemingly with a thousand voices.
“We are the Bunnyborg. You are humans. You shall be elimanated or bunnified…”
“Bunnified?” Asked Spock quizzically.
“And then absorbed. Your consiousness shall be our own. We shall not fail. Resistance is Museless.”
“Museless?” Spock asked again.
:”A play on the word useless, I believe.” Kirk said
““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““`
So, you see how it’s developing. I’ll need someone’s help with ideas for Bunnyborg, and corrections on spellings, ect. for the Star Trek part.
Urania is definitely going to be the equivalent of Cyclops- the only member of the old group left who must help to train the new.
Pwt as an animal catcher for the presidential lawn?
Not every Muse has to be in a scenario with an X-Men analog. There were seven X-Men in the story as opposed to nine Muses. (Not counting Professor X/Larry Gonick.)
I’m going to start posting my story too, in hopes that it will motivate me to keep working. I have much trouble with remembering to work on my stories. Here’s the beginning.
(Keep in mind that this is not strictly mythologically accurate. Some details may have been changed for effect.)
Darkness. Shadow upon shadow, folding together to form shapes that were concealed, land that could only be felt. Then, a figure appeared. The shadow ran across the dark ground, a point of light visible through its closed fist. She had to hide it- But was this back far enough? It had to be. She couldn’t go back any further. She didn’t know if there was a further. No people roamed here, that was sure. Nobody would find it. She sank to the ground and dug a small hole. She dropped the point of light in the hole, put her hand to it, touching it, and gathered the loose dirt around her hand. She closed her eyes, and the speck of light still filtering up intensified. Then, she vanished. The dirt that been held back by her hand fell down around the spot of light, and the land was dark once more.
***
The Council was in disorder. All moving around the room, searching for something. They didn’t notice the figure standing at the door. Not until the figure spoke.
“It’s gone.”
As one, they straitened up to look at her.
“How do you know?”
“It was I who took it.”
The tallest of the nine figures spoke.
“Why did you do this?”
“You were planning on overthrowing everything. I could not allow that.”
“What you could not allow is nothing to us. I am our leader.”
“Nevertheless, when you are going the wrong direction, any of us can stop you. I waited long before taking this step, but as nobody opposed you openly, I took it upon myself.”
“Where did you put it?”
“In the past. Far, far in the past, before light. Before anything. I never tried to discover where, or when, I was, so I cannot know. Now, do what you will to me.”
The tall woman questioning her straitened up “Very well. Caltomine, I, Calliope, as leader of the Council, hereby banish you from our Circle. You are no longer our sister. The Muses do not recognize you.” She paused. “Come here no mo-” But her dramatic speech was interrupted. A tenth figure had come in through the door opposite the one where Caltomine stood, and now spoke.
“I don’t agree.”
Calliope turned. “Urania, I do not see that it makes a difference what you agree to. You are youngest. If there is a second Muse that also disagrees, I shall listen.” She turned to the rest of the Muses. “Do any of you disagree with the decision to banish Caltomine?”
Caltomine remained silent, not pleading for assistance, nothing. Nobody spoke.
“Very well then.” Calliope turned back to Caltomine. “Come here no more.”
Caltomine glared. “You will never achieve your goal.”
Calliope sneered back. “And how do you know?”
“I am the Muse of Foresight. I know.” She paused, and looked around. “You will regret this decision, all of you, for the remainder of your life.”
Calliope rolled her eyes now. “You are in no position to make threats.”
“I make no threats. It is simply a statement of fact. You will regret this decision.”
With that, she turned and walked away from the hall of the Muses, away from the life she had known, never to return. But her final words came true. Every one of the Muses eventually withered away with shame that they had not came to the aid of their sister. Calliope lasted longest, but even she withered. Except for the youngest. Urania, the only one who had spoken against Caltomine’s removal. The only one who was not included in Caltomine’s statement of doom. She alone remained. But as the old Muses withered, new ones took their places. Urania selected them, and forged a secret hall for them. When Calliope withered, Urania found a new leader for them, a new start. Kokopeli, the pie-throwing menace. The New Muses were formed. The Old Muses were no more. But their ideas remained, festering in dark corners. And their means, though lost, was there.
~~~
Death did not feel fear. Death did not feel anything. So when he saw blue lightning crackling around a certain hourglass, when he read the name embossed on the glass, he did not scream, or try to hide, or even blink*.
Instead, he rang for the butler.
*He couldn’t blink anyway, of course. He had no eyelids. But if he could, he wouldn’t have, even though he couldn’t and didn’t. Understand?
Just curious, have you ever heard of Terry Pratchett?
Yes. In fact, this is part of my Discworld/Muse fanfic.
160- When I read the first sentence in the recent comments bar, I thought it said “Death did not fear death.”
I thought that too….. ^^ It wouldn’t have been a bad line, really.
Too repetitive for my taste.
That was part of the reason why I liked it…but you’re the one writing.
That would be silly.
Yeah, I wrote that in a hurry, and used “glass” twice in a row.
160.1- Er… that’s a Terry Pratchett/Muse fanfiction he’s writing…
I’m going to write a MuseBlog fanfiction based on Studge Academy, and the RPG we had. You know, with the Lagomorphicon and everything. Alice will die (heroically, somehow) and POSOC will read from the book and go mad. I can’t remember what happened to everyone else, or even who was involved. Ag, Groundhog, RoseQuartz, and Zinc, I definitely remember, as well as POSOC and myself, but if anyone else wants to be in it, just say so. It may only be a cameo or it may be a larger part depending on how things work out.
Kittymine and Kai were also involved, though less, and Kiwi was leading an entirely separate rebellion. Silver Lining and CTN were doing other things. They’ll all be mentioned.
Who’s in What House:
POSOC–Morgrool (reg. Spector)
Alice–Snorgswattle (reg. Spector)
Ag–Troff (reg. Coontz)
Groundhog–Snorgswattle (reg. Lasley)
RoseQuartz–Troff
Zinc–Morgrool
Kittymine–Swampworthy
Kai–Snorgswattle (reg. Coontz)
Kiwi–Snorgswattle (reg. Lasley)
Silver Lining–Snorgswattle
CTN–Snorgswattle
Anyway…
Alice stood on the rooftop deck of the ferry, staring eagerly towards the island. The Icelandic wind whipped her hair, making it difficult to see, and she tried to poke it back under her cloche, with varying degrees of success. Around her, the Muse Academy students stood in close groups, hollering above the wind. It was easier to talk inside, out of the wind, and easier to see through the glass without one’s eyes watering, but no one wanted to be inside at a moment like this. After the endless summer, they were finally returning to their dear school, to the classes, hilarious and interesting, to the feasts and dances on the rooftop garden, to the not-so-secret passages, to the Student Lounge or the Hare and Hedgepig. Of course, there were darker aspects too…
“Hey,” said POSOC at her elbow. Or rather, yelled.
“Hey POSOC!” she yelled back. “Are you absolutely thrilled?!”
“Of course! Do you even need to ask?!”
“Hi guys!” hollered Aggrfishi, approaching. “Are you taking–LOOK!!!”
POSOC and Alice whipped around, each slightly miffed at not being the first to spot the school, but too happy to be back to really care.
“HUZZAH!!!” Alice yelled, jumping into the air and hugging the nearest passerby, who happened to be a terrified-looking ten-year-old–obviously new to the school.
“There’s something wrong, though,” said Aggie.
“Wrong?” asked Alice. “What could possibly be WRONG with Muse Academy?”
“It’s not flying the flag,” said POSOC, who looked troubled (it was hard to tell from his tone of voice, because when you are yelling things at the top of your lungs, conveying emotion generally isn’t your top priority).
“That’s not right!” said Alice. “They always fly the flag!”
By this time, more of the students had noticed the school, and the lack of a flag. Panic spread through the Musers like wildfire. “Maybe they just forgot,” suggested RoseQuartz, looking unconvinced.
“The GAPAs never forget the flag!” cried Zinc. “There must be something wrong!”
The next fifteen minutes were spent in an agony of anticipation. Heated arguments broke out. The wind picked up, and some of the newer children (and a few of the older ones, to be honest) started to cry. Alice, POSOC, Aggie, and Kai stood by the rail, taking turns to look out towards the island with Kai’s pair of binoculars. No one spoke.
The Flamablamablous was not in the harbor when they disembarked from the ferry, and the five smaller boats were also conspicuously absent. More whispers, more panic.
“It couldn’t have been HPBs, could it?”
“Of course not. HPBs aren’t real, they’re just a joke.”
Grave looks among a few of the older students.
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t HPBs. They wouldn’t have taken anything, just painted it pink.” This remark didn’t have the reassuring effect that the speaker had intended.
The five hundred young people between the ages of ten and eighteen began to flow up the road and towards the school. On reaching the gates, a new student cried: “But I thought it was Muse Academy!”
Those around him stopped. “It is Muse Academy, silly,” someone said.
“But it says Filboid-Studge Academy on the gates,” said the new student.
Incredulous cries of “What?” and “Filboid-Studge?” Someone said “It’s just like Dickens!” which provoked a few uneasy laughs. They went on.
Studge fanfiction?! I never thought I’d live to see the day. Needless to say, I’m riveted.
Sweetness! You can add me, if you’d like (if there’s room, whatever). Of course, if you can’t fit me in, that’s fine, I won’t be upset.
I was sorted into Morgrool, by the way (Robert’s house, how coincidental….That’s what I was sorted into on here, too…..Creepy. )
Great! I’m sure I can fit you in, probably easier than a lot of people on that list, since I know you better.
164.1- Of course, there’s none of that “The GAPAs sold the website” nonsense in my fanfiction. You’ve been imprisoned in the deepest dungeons, and escape only with the aid of a few intrepid students, too late, unfortunately, to stop our reading from the Lagomorphicon.
Which, by the way, is supposedly adapted from Lovecraft. Unfortunately, I’ve never read Lovecraft, so if someone could enlighten me as to what the Lagomorphicon should do, I would be much obliged. I’m fairly sure I can’t just Wiki it.
You can get some idea by googling “Necronomicon.” I’m sure there’s a Wikipedia entry for it.
I like it!
Alice- The Studge RP is found Here, in case you want it.
By the way, that post sounded really cold and uncaring,as if I think I know more than you. It’s been on my conscience for a while. I do like your story so far, and I’m fairly sure you could get to the RPG with very little trouble. I’m sorry.
Just like usual, the students poured in the huge courtyard with the mosaic Muses. As usual, there was a stage at the far end of the courtyard. As usual, there were four figures standing on it. But here there was a gasp that rippled through the crowd, because these were not the GAPAs.
“Hello,” said the right-hand figure in a dry voice. “I am Mr. Ekoeli Morgrool, and these are Ms. Umbilica Snorgswattle, Mr. Fussel Swampworthy, and Ms. Fibula Troff.”
Uneasy laughter. “Is this some kind of a practical joke?” “Is Robert under that beard?”
“I told you it was just like Dickens!” muttered Alice to POSOC and Aggie, who gave her looks which said plainly “It’s NOT funny.”
Mr. Morgrool gave the speaker a cold look. “No, young lady, it is not a practical joke, and if you would stop forming hypotheses and listen, you will note that I am about to explain. Your ‘Gappas’ have found themselves in a bit of a financial pinch, and have consequently sold the school to us, that we might continue to improve your young minds.”
“The GAPAs wouldn’t do that!” yelled Kiwimuncher. There were cries of agreement. “They’d never sell the Academy!”
“It looks like they have,” remarked Ms. Troff in a voice drier (if possible) than Mr. Morgrool’s.
“If I may continue. You will find the school much changed. We will have no cavorting and dancing here. There will be no more pie throwing or sleeping in. These things are detrimental to young minds. Furthermore, you will be re-sorted into four new houses–Morgrool, Snorgswattle, Swampworthy, and Troff. We have procured the time of your first posts on the MuseBlog, and according to a simple numerical calculation, we have determined into which house each child will be sorted. Your house leader will then explain your classes and uniforms to you.”
“UNIFORMS!?!?”
“Indeed, uniforms. Now, you–in front.”
Your fanfic prompted me to reread the fun times we had over at Filboid-Studge….I just finished earlier today. *sigh* That was officially the best first-day-back-at-school-after-a-“holiday”-break ever.
You GAPAs are the best.
Reposting my Star Trek crossover fanfic, with edits and more added on
Crossover
““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““`
It had been a long day for Kirk, charting a previously unknown region of space, making star charts, mapping planetary systems, for 24 hours straight. He was on the bridge, as usual.
“Sir, something is approching the ship’s range. Shall I put it on screen?†Sulu asked out.
“Yes, Sulu.â€Kirk said.
The screen flickered on.
“A Borg cube. I thought they had been destroyed!†Chekov remarked incredulously.
“But, it’s pink. It’s hot pink. Borg cubes are not hot pink.†Kirk said in response. It was a hot pink Borg cube, with two large, ear-like projections on either side. It had two menacing looking eyes that seemed to be painted on, along with a disturbingly cute smile. Blinking lights sparkled as it rotated.
“Sir, there’s a transmission coming in, with visuals. Shall I put it on screen?†Uhura asked.
“Yes.†Kirk said.
An head appeared on screen. It was the same hot pink color as the ship. It had a large, bulbous body, with two long ears. The eyes and mouth were totally white. A machine appeared grafted on to its face. It covered most of it, like a robot had been joined with… that rabbit thing. It spoke, seemingly with a thousand voices.
“We are the Bunnyborg. You are humans. You shall be eliminated or bunnified, and then absorbed. Your consciousness shall be our own. We shall not fail. Resistance is Museless.â€
“Museless?†Spock asked.
â€A play on the word useless, I believe.†Kirk said.
A blast of pink light shot from the cube. It hit the lower decks, where most of the crew was resting. The bridge shook.
“They’re firing on us, sir!” Sulu yelled.
“Yes, Sulu. That’s obvious.” Kirk replied. “Damage reports, Uhura?”
“No damage reports from those decks. No reports of any type, either. Strange.” She said.
“Put me on intercom. I want to talk with them.” Kirk said. Uhura turned on intercom, to cabins. “This is Kirk speaking. Are you and your fellow crew members all right?” A screeching, like a high pitched rabbit could be heard. “Please respond.” Kirk said. Nothing happened.
””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
I like the Fibloid Studge Story, by the way.
COME BACK!!! No one appears to be here…. I’ll just write more.
””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””
Kirk asked Spock “Do a life form scan on those decks. Those BunnyBorg have done something to my crew, and I need to know.”
“Yes sir.” Spock said.
“Have some containment suits prepared for us. They may have released radiation.” Kirk said.
“Sir, there appear to have been no change in the number of life forms aboard this ship. However, those on the decks that were hit seem to contain a type of life form, previously unregistered.”
””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””’
I must go over and read the Fibloid Studge RPG.
It wasn’t an RPG. It was the entire blog itself, for a day.
I know. I was a lurker. I wanted to read the RPG you had.
Come to this, or I will die
*is lurking* *has been lurking for a long time* *likes everything she sees*
I do like your Star Trek crossover and would like to see more.
I’m thinking of modifying it a bit. (As in, an almost total rewrite) The Borg don’t ever exist in the TOS, so I’ll change it to TNG, with Picard & Data & Troi & Crusher & Riker…
Perhaps I’ll try again after my birthday.
The janitor led Gonick through the corridors of the university, stopping before the computer lab.
“I can’t take you any further. I never believed in ghosts or anything like that before, but I tell you, something’s in there. A gremlin or something, I don’t know- but something in the systems is alive!” He confessed in Japanese, hands trembling as he unlocked the door.
“That’s okay, you’ve done enough.” Gonick answered, stepping through.
Rows of computers stood in lines, all turned off, as he paced along with a flashlight, shining it here and there. There was a beep as a monitor behind him turned on. Gonick turned, only to see it wink off and another monitor in the next row flicker on.
“Hello? I know you’re here. I know you’re an Immortal.” He called.
Three monitors directly in front of him turned on, extruding electronic hisses and crackles. Static flickered from the screens, and words flashed in their centers.
Keep Your Distance, Human.
“I don’t want to hurt you, I just want to talk. What’s your name?”
A E I O U.
“You live inside of the computers?”
Yes, I Am The Software Guardian.
“I am Larry Gonick. I was sent to find Immortals to help the world face a great peril. Will you come with me?”
I Consent.
“Very well…”
*claps*
Amazing! AEIOU should start off as a jerk, and then get nicer.
Regarding my Star Trek Crossover fanfic: It’s going to get a major rewrite, and be TNG, because I found out they don’t encounter the Borg until the middle of TNG.
Not so much a jerk as just generally emotionless. She has directives to follow about duty and protection, but at this point, there’s no emotional motive behind them, she’s just doing it because it feels essential.
Oh. That sounds good too, but definitely a looking down on humans attitude.
I am going to completely revamp my Star Trek Crossover. As in, completely revamp. New ship, new crew, new storyline. See y’all soon!
Long ago, I wrote a post-apocalyptic Muse fanfic named, appropriately enough, Omega. I promised I would finish it, but got distracted by other projects and when I finally returned to it, it seemed silly.
So… the solution?
REWRITE!!!!!
Whoops, hit Comment by mistake.
Anyway.
The basic premise: Big, tyrannical dictatorship takes over much of the world and ravages the rest. Some of the Muses are taken prisoner and their vast skill put to use. Others, along with MB, fight back.
I’ll be brainstorming, but I don’t think I will post it here… I want to preserve a sense of mystery in the opening chapters.
175- Am I still in it?
I think so. Those who haven’t been on here in ages (Koko du Pelle) might be removed, but I’ll definitely keep you and TMFA. Jadestone, too, maybe.
This reminds me of my FanFiction…
I’m getting back to work on it. Now it’s in the present, with MuseBlogger characters. Just me, for now, but I’ll probably add more people later. Any volunteers? It’ll work best if you live either around Pennsylvania, or else within reasonable traveling distance. Or if I feel like it, I could warp my very loose story plan to something different and include you even if you don’t live near.
And the PA location is very loose. I chose it very close to randomly. It could be almost anywhere else.
Muse: Omega, take 2
Urania sat back in her chair, running a hand through her now-hopelessly tangled blond hair. The holographic blueprint hovering in front of her was incredibly complex, but after a few seconds of concentration she’d measured each strut and panel, calculated the stresses on each one of them, and reduced the tangled lines to a neat little pile of dancing numbers in her head.
After a moment, she gulped down the remnants of her Turkish coffee, reached into the image, and tagged a few key points with glowing red dots, the Intelligent Air sensing her intent as easily as it tracked the position of her fingers.
A voice whispered in her ear- a new supervisor, she could tell, although the distorter program in the Air masked the speech patterns. Definitely female, probably young. “How’s it going?”
Urania gritted her teeth at the false warmth in the woman’s voice. “The general design is sound, but the way you’ve implemented it is faulty. Several of the plates surrounding the fusion core are insufficiently insulated- you’ll have to replace them months before spec. And the support strut arrangement puts all the weight on three key points- I’ve attached a suggestion for better mass distribution. Overall, if you put this into production, you’ll get a fifteen to nineteen percent drop in efficiency.”
“Well, thank you very much,” the woman continued. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”
Of course you couldn’t have, you crow-gnawed buffoons, Urania thought. Aloud, she said. “Of course. My next destination?”
“Venus- we’ve laid a course into your shuttle’s navigation system already. There’s an orbital telescope they want looked at.”
The Muse of Astronomy cut off the transmission without ceremony and quietly recited the first three hundred and sixty digits of pi to calm herself down. Then she reached into the Intelligent Air interface and sent a call to Mount Parnassus.
It was answered on the third ring. The cool green cloud of Air, the loading screen of the Whispernet, resolved into a smiling, ageless face, the twin (or more accurately, nonuplet) of Urania’s. “Γειά σου, Οá½Ïανία!”
Urania returned the smile. “Hi, Thalia. How’s everything?”
The Old Muse of Comedy remained silent for a few seconds- at these distances, time lag was still a factor. “Not bad,” she finally said. “Calliope’s been hunched up with that typewriter for the last few weeks, Melpomene’s moping, and Euterpe’s working on a new αá½Î»ÏŒÏ‚ pipe. Believe it or not, it’s actually kind of quiet.” Her grin widened. “I’ll have to change that.”
Thalia’s expression turned thoughtful as she realized what her sister had meant. “They’re treating us very well, ‘Rani. We’ve got an entire mountain to ourselves.”
A mountain with a kilo of antimatter in magnetic suspension under it, Urania thought bitterly. “Well, if you need anything, tell me, OK?”
“Sure thing. Σ’ αγαπώ.” Thalia ended the call.
The Muse of Astronomy muttered a highly detailed Greek curse involving all four Furies and the Pythagorean theorem before activating the prison-shuttle’s controls and setting a course for Venus.
Could we have a new thread? This one’s nearly two years old, although not really full yet. I guess we don’t really need one… It’d be convenient, but that doesn’t make in necessary.
Anyway, I have the next part of my fanfic now. I think I’ll post it. I need more people, or will need them in not too long. Anybody?