Fandoms #7, #8 and #9
Title: Staying In
Fandom: Shaun of the Dead
Summary: Liz laments during the evening she split from Shaun.
Notes: Random bit of trivia: the woman who played Liz in this film went to my sixth form college.
Liz spent the evening in her room. She had hoped to spend some time in the lounge, curled up with Diane watching some of those girly DVDs Shaun hated seeing, but it meant David would have been hovering round, too, and the last thing she needed was him making things more complicated. Besides, she wanted a day away from men, away from the usual people, and away from bloody wine.
She sat on her bed watching the news, but not really taking it in. There was misery on every channel--the news was harping on about some disease in London, and something about quarantines (someone coughs and the city grinds to a halt? Honestly, how bad can it be?), and just to make things worse the only thing on the other channels were re-runs of How Clean Is Your House? and Newsnight, which both made her want to smack herself round the head with a frying pan until she passed out-- and inevitably, she found herself wondering what Shaun was doing with himself right now.
She swallowed bitterly when she realised he was definitely going to be in the Winchester with Ed right now. An irrational part of her mind wanted to go over there right now and give him one final piece of her mind, but that was only going to make things messy, not to mention the entire Tube system had been suspended, apparently.
The compulsion came to clear out all of Shaun's belongings, and put them in a box. She had been doing this mentally for at least six weeks already, but hadn't had the bottle to go through with it. But now they had split, she may as well get started, right?
Twenty minutes passed, and Liz realised she couldn't bring herself to do it tonight. She still thought Shaun was a lovely guy, but he was selfish and childish (and it pained her to admit it, but David was right about all that... even if he had said it at least twice a day since they began dating), and he had never shown any signs of committing.
She didn't want marriage, or anything like that. She just wanted to know his relationship was more than a habit.
Right now, that was all she wanted. Well, chocolate wouldn't have gone amiss. Or wondering why the hell nobody had turned off that bloody car alarm yet. But she just wanted to know Shaun had been willing to go that extra mile for her. And he hadn't, and she couldn't ignore her doubts any more.
Eventually, she decided on an early night. Wishing there had just been some way for Shaun to prove how much she meant to him, Liz turned off the TV, and assumed the howling outside was the wind.
Title: The First Journal
Fandom: Sex and the City
Summary: Carrie develops a love for writing.
Notes: Kinda uses the prompt of Firsts here.
Carrie was twelve when she got her first diary, though it lay unopened on her shelf for several weeks. Her mother found it while cleaning the girl's room, and asked her nicely why she hadn't tried writing anything in it yet. Apparently, writing thoughts out made them so much easier to understand, and nobody would ever have to see it outside of Carrie herself.
The book stayed on her table for the rest of the day. It was one of those girly diaries with the date printed on the corner of each page, and dotted lines and illustrations around the edges. She creaked the fresh spine open at the date-- Sunday, July 22-- and after sucking her pencil thoughtfully, wrote a single line of text:
"The weather was great today."
From then on, there was littel stopping her. The next day was a schoolday, and she wrote about her classes, and what she thought of the teachers. The Tuesday, she added in details about her grades, and how her mom had reacted to them. Wednesday she started talking about her friends and how they liked to talk about clothes and all those glamorous models in the magazines, and on the Thursday, she started writing about...
About boys.
She had to stop here for a few days, because although Carrie Bradshaw had always been raised to speak her mind and be honest, she wondered if writing about boys like this counted as being honest.
But she did anyway. And it surprised her when nothing felt different.
She spent the summer making notes about her plans, the idle daydreams she had, and the occasions she saw one of these boys in town, taking care to note what he was wearing, and how he behaved around her. She may be twelve years old, but she could tell when boys were behaing like that.
The years went by, and she abandoned the diary, but kept the passion for writing, and kept those around her close to the heart of her materials. But now and again, when she landed the journalism job in New York, she couldn't help but sigh and remember the days before she wrote her first diary entry, and could just admire her surroundings with a fresh face, and keep her personal thoughts personal.
But she was a big girl now, and she would get by just fine.
Title: Scrap Metal
Fandom: Look Around You
Summary: In the future, a class of students discover Medibot in a museum.
Notes: ....I'm not sure what compelled me to try and write something based on a parody, but yey. Rather surreal.
In the year 2000, the people of Earth were still living on the planet, although as a side affect of their innoculations against Geodermic Granititis, humans had obviously learned to fly. There was a fascination in the times of old, when casseroles were not available from fast food outlets, and when scientists still disputed the purpose of birds.
The schoolchildren were taken on a field trip to one of the main museums in London, which had been refurbished recently under the decree of His Royal Highness King Sir Prince Charles III. The doors swooshed open automatically, and the class stepped inside, prepared to be bored by the trip; one boy was pulled aside by the teacher, who promptly confiscated his brand new ouija board.
They walked around the Museum of Modern Medical History, gazing at the old defunct machinery. One piece of equipment sat behind a sheet of transparent lead, rusty and forgotten.
One child read the inscription: "Medibot?"
"Med-i-bot."
The machine whirred its face round to look at the student.
"That thing used to do plastic surgery?" The child scoffed.
"Back in the early eighties, it was the most advanced surgical equipment in the world," his friend read from the plaque. "This is one of only four Medibots to be built, and it previously belonged to Tony Curtis."
"Huh, when I get my new i-Trak next year, it will probably have a surgery button on it anyway."
He held his existing i-Trak between his palms, and shuffled the track with a quick flick of the cassette button, and a wind of the dial.
"Apparently we can feed it hundreds and thousands," the other kid read. "But I ate all of mine."
"Too bad. Man, this is boring. I'm gonna go to that statue of Imhotep."
The students walked toward an empty plinth, leaving the rusting machine to watch after them sadly, forgotten and unused. Modern children didn't have any understanding of what it was like to be great and respected, only to be called defunct by newer, cheaper alternatives to surgery. It blamed the Thatcher era.
As the schoolchildren left the museum, Medibot was abandoned once more to dwell on its purposeless existence. He watched them fly back to school through the window and wanted to call after them, to offer them a laser-operated face lift, but knew they wouldn't be able to hear Medibot through the walls lined with asbestos and Psilence.
It shouldn't have cared, because it was a robot. But over time, it missed not being missed.
"Med-i-bot..."
It repeated its own name dolefully, but nobody cared any more.
Fandom: Shaun of the Dead
Summary: Liz laments during the evening she split from Shaun.
Notes: Random bit of trivia: the woman who played Liz in this film went to my sixth form college.
Liz spent the evening in her room. She had hoped to spend some time in the lounge, curled up with Diane watching some of those girly DVDs Shaun hated seeing, but it meant David would have been hovering round, too, and the last thing she needed was him making things more complicated. Besides, she wanted a day away from men, away from the usual people, and away from bloody wine.
She sat on her bed watching the news, but not really taking it in. There was misery on every channel--the news was harping on about some disease in London, and something about quarantines (someone coughs and the city grinds to a halt? Honestly, how bad can it be?), and just to make things worse the only thing on the other channels were re-runs of How Clean Is Your House? and Newsnight, which both made her want to smack herself round the head with a frying pan until she passed out-- and inevitably, she found herself wondering what Shaun was doing with himself right now.
She swallowed bitterly when she realised he was definitely going to be in the Winchester with Ed right now. An irrational part of her mind wanted to go over there right now and give him one final piece of her mind, but that was only going to make things messy, not to mention the entire Tube system had been suspended, apparently.
The compulsion came to clear out all of Shaun's belongings, and put them in a box. She had been doing this mentally for at least six weeks already, but hadn't had the bottle to go through with it. But now they had split, she may as well get started, right?
Twenty minutes passed, and Liz realised she couldn't bring herself to do it tonight. She still thought Shaun was a lovely guy, but he was selfish and childish (and it pained her to admit it, but David was right about all that... even if he had said it at least twice a day since they began dating), and he had never shown any signs of committing.
She didn't want marriage, or anything like that. She just wanted to know his relationship was more than a habit.
Right now, that was all she wanted. Well, chocolate wouldn't have gone amiss. Or wondering why the hell nobody had turned off that bloody car alarm yet. But she just wanted to know Shaun had been willing to go that extra mile for her. And he hadn't, and she couldn't ignore her doubts any more.
Eventually, she decided on an early night. Wishing there had just been some way for Shaun to prove how much she meant to him, Liz turned off the TV, and assumed the howling outside was the wind.
Title: The First Journal
Fandom: Sex and the City
Summary: Carrie develops a love for writing.
Notes: Kinda uses the prompt of Firsts here.
Carrie was twelve when she got her first diary, though it lay unopened on her shelf for several weeks. Her mother found it while cleaning the girl's room, and asked her nicely why she hadn't tried writing anything in it yet. Apparently, writing thoughts out made them so much easier to understand, and nobody would ever have to see it outside of Carrie herself.
The book stayed on her table for the rest of the day. It was one of those girly diaries with the date printed on the corner of each page, and dotted lines and illustrations around the edges. She creaked the fresh spine open at the date-- Sunday, July 22-- and after sucking her pencil thoughtfully, wrote a single line of text:
"The weather was great today."
From then on, there was littel stopping her. The next day was a schoolday, and she wrote about her classes, and what she thought of the teachers. The Tuesday, she added in details about her grades, and how her mom had reacted to them. Wednesday she started talking about her friends and how they liked to talk about clothes and all those glamorous models in the magazines, and on the Thursday, she started writing about...
About boys.
She had to stop here for a few days, because although Carrie Bradshaw had always been raised to speak her mind and be honest, she wondered if writing about boys like this counted as being honest.
But she did anyway. And it surprised her when nothing felt different.
She spent the summer making notes about her plans, the idle daydreams she had, and the occasions she saw one of these boys in town, taking care to note what he was wearing, and how he behaved around her. She may be twelve years old, but she could tell when boys were behaing like that.
The years went by, and she abandoned the diary, but kept the passion for writing, and kept those around her close to the heart of her materials. But now and again, when she landed the journalism job in New York, she couldn't help but sigh and remember the days before she wrote her first diary entry, and could just admire her surroundings with a fresh face, and keep her personal thoughts personal.
But she was a big girl now, and she would get by just fine.
Title: Scrap Metal
Fandom: Look Around You
Summary: In the future, a class of students discover Medibot in a museum.
Notes: ....I'm not sure what compelled me to try and write something based on a parody, but yey. Rather surreal.
In the year 2000, the people of Earth were still living on the planet, although as a side affect of their innoculations against Geodermic Granititis, humans had obviously learned to fly. There was a fascination in the times of old, when casseroles were not available from fast food outlets, and when scientists still disputed the purpose of birds.
The schoolchildren were taken on a field trip to one of the main museums in London, which had been refurbished recently under the decree of His Royal Highness King Sir Prince Charles III. The doors swooshed open automatically, and the class stepped inside, prepared to be bored by the trip; one boy was pulled aside by the teacher, who promptly confiscated his brand new ouija board.
They walked around the Museum of Modern Medical History, gazing at the old defunct machinery. One piece of equipment sat behind a sheet of transparent lead, rusty and forgotten.
One child read the inscription: "Medibot?"
"Med-i-bot."
The machine whirred its face round to look at the student.
"That thing used to do plastic surgery?" The child scoffed.
"Back in the early eighties, it was the most advanced surgical equipment in the world," his friend read from the plaque. "This is one of only four Medibots to be built, and it previously belonged to Tony Curtis."
"Huh, when I get my new i-Trak next year, it will probably have a surgery button on it anyway."
He held his existing i-Trak between his palms, and shuffled the track with a quick flick of the cassette button, and a wind of the dial.
"Apparently we can feed it hundreds and thousands," the other kid read. "But I ate all of mine."
"Too bad. Man, this is boring. I'm gonna go to that statue of Imhotep."
The students walked toward an empty plinth, leaving the rusting machine to watch after them sadly, forgotten and unused. Modern children didn't have any understanding of what it was like to be great and respected, only to be called defunct by newer, cheaper alternatives to surgery. It blamed the Thatcher era.
As the schoolchildren left the museum, Medibot was abandoned once more to dwell on its purposeless existence. He watched them fly back to school through the window and wanted to call after them, to offer them a laser-operated face lift, but knew they wouldn't be able to hear Medibot through the walls lined with asbestos and Psilence.
It shouldn't have cared, because it was a robot. But over time, it missed not being missed.
"Med-i-bot..."
It repeated its own name dolefully, but nobody cared any more.