Booking It (ND)
Title: Booking It
Author: Candyland (candy__chan)
Fandom: Nancy Drew PC Games: One of the world’s greatest sleuths makes the jump from the page to the computer screen to star in a series of interactive mystery games.
Wordcount: 794
Taunt: My fandom has been going since 1930.
All in all, it probably wasn’t how most people would have opted to spend a Sunday afternoon. Most people probably would have chosen to spend a drizzly weekend afternoon reading or napping or any number of activities that were not this particular activity.
Nancy, however, was not most people. And quite frankly, most people would not have all the little things like this that she had. Thus, they might not necessarily have even had any cause to do this. And it certainly could never be said that Nancy Drew was a normal person. Normal people did not seem to attract mysteries wherever they went as they traveled the globe, and trip over odd happenings and problems with every alternate step.
Normal people did not find themselves embroiled in life or death situations that required them to solve mysteries and outwit criminal masterminds for the simple right to survival.
That was one of the big reasons that she had set this project for herself. Well, Ned had suggested it one day when she had been looking over some old memorabilia and things and commented that she had an awful lot of things stuffed into a white tote, which she kept tucked safely under her bed. Ned had given her the idea, and she had decided to run with it.
It was a mere stroke of luck (or so she thought) that it had decided to rain on the day she had chosen as her work day. The gentle pattering of falling rain on her window made for a nice compliment to the soft jazz she had chosen for her background music. Once the proper mood was set, she yanked the tote free and grabbed her supplies.
The next several hours had been spent sitting on her bedroom floor, surrounded by paper, scissors, glue, and memorabilia of almost every imaginable kind. There were good many photographs, though, which suited her purposes beautifully. Each new page was a new trip down memory lane, recalling different times, places, and people.
Before she really knew it, or had realized how much time had gone by, she was done. The rug on her floor was littered with tiny bits of brightly colored paper; it looked like an explosion in a sprinkle factory.
It was almost disappointing to have to pack everything up and put it away. But in short order the small scraps of paper were gathered up and disposed of; the glue, scissors, and other supplies were returned to their appropriate places in her desk, and all the remaining mementos (now a much smaller supply) were put back into the tote.
With one last unladylike grunt, Nancy shoved the white tote back under the bed and sat back on her heels. An upturned lower lip sent a quick jet of air upwards to blow a stray strand of hair out of her face as she allowed herself a moment to feel very pleased with herself.
After sitting for a moment, listening to the intermingled sounds of rain on her window and soft jazz from her CD player, Nancy turned and sat down on the floor, leaning back against her bed. She reached out with one hand and picked up the object of her afternoon project: a book, bound in brown leather.
A scrapbook, to be specific.
She admired the cover for a moment. When she had gone looking for a book for this project, she had not really been sure what it was that she wanted. But the minute she had seen this one, she had known it was the right one for what she was going to do.
And as she had been with so many of her cases, Nancy had been right.
…truth be told, Ned had also been right. Making a scrapbook of her past cases was a terrific idea.
After a moment more, Nancy opened the book and began to read, glancing over pictures and words and small souvenirs that she had only glued to the pages a short time before. A page devoted to each case that had crossed her path, and all the people who had come with those cases.
She had named them as well. That had been fun, to try and come up with a title that would somehow encompass each mystery without being too silly or obvious. She had wound up using a fair amount of alliteration, something that had amused her.
Still sitting on the floor, surrounded by the gentle music of rain and saxophones, Nancy began to read back over her case scrapbook, starting with one of her first cases. She rarely dealt in anything as serious as murder, but this case had been rather unique in a good many ways.
She had called it Secrets Can Kill.
PS. I started writing a fic for this game series a long time ago, and it was turning out really long, and really kind of monotonous, I thought. So I axed that and rewrote this, a much shorter version with less repetition. But yes, Nancy’s case scrapbook, which sits on her desk during the current opening shot!
Also, in the taunt? I was so so so so very tempted to add the words “Beat that, Trekkies!” I consider this to be proof that I am sort of a horrible person. And also not cute, to those who insist on the contrary. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. Thanks for reading! Much love!
Author: Candyland (candy__chan)
Fandom: Nancy Drew PC Games: One of the world’s greatest sleuths makes the jump from the page to the computer screen to star in a series of interactive mystery games.
Wordcount: 794
Taunt: My fandom has been going since 1930.
All in all, it probably wasn’t how most people would have opted to spend a Sunday afternoon. Most people probably would have chosen to spend a drizzly weekend afternoon reading or napping or any number of activities that were not this particular activity.
Nancy, however, was not most people. And quite frankly, most people would not have all the little things like this that she had. Thus, they might not necessarily have even had any cause to do this. And it certainly could never be said that Nancy Drew was a normal person. Normal people did not seem to attract mysteries wherever they went as they traveled the globe, and trip over odd happenings and problems with every alternate step.
Normal people did not find themselves embroiled in life or death situations that required them to solve mysteries and outwit criminal masterminds for the simple right to survival.
That was one of the big reasons that she had set this project for herself. Well, Ned had suggested it one day when she had been looking over some old memorabilia and things and commented that she had an awful lot of things stuffed into a white tote, which she kept tucked safely under her bed. Ned had given her the idea, and she had decided to run with it.
It was a mere stroke of luck (or so she thought) that it had decided to rain on the day she had chosen as her work day. The gentle pattering of falling rain on her window made for a nice compliment to the soft jazz she had chosen for her background music. Once the proper mood was set, she yanked the tote free and grabbed her supplies.
The next several hours had been spent sitting on her bedroom floor, surrounded by paper, scissors, glue, and memorabilia of almost every imaginable kind. There were good many photographs, though, which suited her purposes beautifully. Each new page was a new trip down memory lane, recalling different times, places, and people.
Before she really knew it, or had realized how much time had gone by, she was done. The rug on her floor was littered with tiny bits of brightly colored paper; it looked like an explosion in a sprinkle factory.
It was almost disappointing to have to pack everything up and put it away. But in short order the small scraps of paper were gathered up and disposed of; the glue, scissors, and other supplies were returned to their appropriate places in her desk, and all the remaining mementos (now a much smaller supply) were put back into the tote.
With one last unladylike grunt, Nancy shoved the white tote back under the bed and sat back on her heels. An upturned lower lip sent a quick jet of air upwards to blow a stray strand of hair out of her face as she allowed herself a moment to feel very pleased with herself.
After sitting for a moment, listening to the intermingled sounds of rain on her window and soft jazz from her CD player, Nancy turned and sat down on the floor, leaning back against her bed. She reached out with one hand and picked up the object of her afternoon project: a book, bound in brown leather.
A scrapbook, to be specific.
She admired the cover for a moment. When she had gone looking for a book for this project, she had not really been sure what it was that she wanted. But the minute she had seen this one, she had known it was the right one for what she was going to do.
And as she had been with so many of her cases, Nancy had been right.
…truth be told, Ned had also been right. Making a scrapbook of her past cases was a terrific idea.
After a moment more, Nancy opened the book and began to read, glancing over pictures and words and small souvenirs that she had only glued to the pages a short time before. A page devoted to each case that had crossed her path, and all the people who had come with those cases.
She had named them as well. That had been fun, to try and come up with a title that would somehow encompass each mystery without being too silly or obvious. She had wound up using a fair amount of alliteration, something that had amused her.
Still sitting on the floor, surrounded by the gentle music of rain and saxophones, Nancy began to read back over her case scrapbook, starting with one of her first cases. She rarely dealt in anything as serious as murder, but this case had been rather unique in a good many ways.
She had called it Secrets Can Kill.
PS. I started writing a fic for this game series a long time ago, and it was turning out really long, and really kind of monotonous, I thought. So I axed that and rewrote this, a much shorter version with less repetition. But yes, Nancy’s case scrapbook, which sits on her desk during the current opening shot!
Also, in the taunt? I was so so so so very tempted to add the words “Beat that, Trekkies!” I consider this to be proof that I am sort of a horrible person. And also not cute, to those who insist on the contrary. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. Thanks for reading! Much love!