thisbluespirit (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thisbluespirit) wrote2016-06-30 09:21 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote2016-06-30 09:21 pm
Entry tags:
Crossover Meme III
It's been six years since I last did this, so let's give it a whirl & get something cheerful out of this week!
As ever for something like this, I'll take prompts from anything I know (my interests and tags will probably give you a clue, but anything else you think I might know - I'll let you know if I don't or really can't for any reason):
Give me two characters from different fandoms you know I'm familiar with, and I'll give you a dialogue happening between the two of them. Without justifying how the crossover would work, how their worlds clashed or how they could even meet each other. Just a silly crossover conversation with no backstory, for fun.
As ever for something like this, I'll take prompts from anything I know (my interests and tags will probably give you a clue, but anything else you think I might know - I'll let you know if I don't or really can't for any reason):
Give me two characters from different fandoms you know I'm familiar with, and I'll give you a dialogue happening between the two of them. Without justifying how the crossover would work, how their worlds clashed or how they could even meet each other. Just a silly crossover conversation with no backstory, for fun.
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Entombed, Evy Carnahan + Dayna Mellanby, 693 words.
Dayna picked herself up and brushed the dust of a thousand years from her clothes. “I don’t even know where I am or how I got here.”
“Well, the only way that I know of is to get your hands on the Lost Key of Iseum,” said Evy. “And there’s only one of it and, as it happens, I’ve got it – oh!” She stopped abruptly as Dayna held out an identical, if slightly more worn, small stone object.
“Not as unique as you thought,” said Dayna. She shrugged. “Typical.”
Evy studied the two artefacts with great interest. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, I wonder. That might explain it!”
“Explain what?”
“Well, what if this chamber isn’t strictly speaking a place in the usual sense of the word? What if we’re in a sort of, well, limbo? So we could both have picked up the same Key, only at different times. Although, if that’s true, then why aren’t there more of us here? Hmm, it’s a theory, but it could use some more work. If only we had the time…”
Dayna folded her arms. “Look, all I know is that Tarrant and I were down in this old vault, looking for – well, that doesn’t matter, but I picked up this, turned around and I landed here. And if I don’t get back soon, he’s probably going to make a mess of the whole mission.”
“Oh, dear,” said Evy with genuine sympathy. She knew that feeling. She was already busy trying not to worry too much about what sort of ill-advised things Jonathan and Rick would be getting up to now that she’d vanished. “Still, the only way out for either of us right now is through that wall. Do you think you can help me?”
Dayna grinned. “Well, I could blow a hole in it, if you like.”
Evy heaved a disapproving sigh. “And I don’t even think you’re an American.”
“No, but I know what I’m doing when it comes to explosives, don’t worry.”
Evy shook her head. “We’re in some sort of mystical nether-place inside the long-lost tomb of the Forgotten Pharaohs – and you’re completely, absolutely sure that it’ll be quite safe to blow things up?”
“Have you got a better plan?”
“I,” said Evy, brandishing the object in question about, “have a book! Well, a scroll in this case, but it comes to the same thing.”
Dayna wrinkled her nose. “I think I’ll stick with my idea.”
“No, no, no, no – wait!” Evy let the scroll unroll, falling onto the stone floor and over Dayna’s feet. She ran her finger down the text, mouthing words under her breath. “Aha! Yes, this looks like it!” After all, she thought, crossing her fingers with her free hand, no harm ever came of reading out ancient Egyptian texts in mystical places. Well, not very much harm, or at least, they’d always been able to prevent the world ending up till now, so it was worth a shot…
She stepped forward and proclaimed the incantation as boldly as she dared, and then held her breath, waiting for everything to fall in on her, or for angry Mummies to burst out of the carvings on the walls. Instead, a glowing golden line appeared in front of them in a rectangular shape, before burning brighter yet until it faded and all that was left was a door – a door into an inky, unlit corridor beyond. Evy beamed at Dayna, her smugness ineffable. “There, see?”
“Okay, fair enough,” said Dayna. “You’ve got a scroll. I get it now.”
Evy patted Dayna’s hand. “Never mind. I’m sure we’ll need those explosives later when horrible undead things start trying to kill us.”
“In that case,” said Dayna, giving an even wider grin and putting her hand to her gun, “what are we waiting for?”
They stepped out into the darkness together.
Re: Entombed, Evy Carnahan + Dayna Mellanby, 693 words.
Re: Entombed, Evy Carnahan + Dayna Mellanby, 693 words.
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*HUGS*
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DW/Red Dwarf: Behind the Bushes, Cat + Twelve, 580 words, All ages,
***
The Doctor crouched down behind the shrubbery, his gaze fixed on the entrance to the bunker. It was going to blow any minute… now.
Or at least, he was sure it should have done. He wished Clara was with him; he could have used someone who was likely to be wearing a wristwatch. He counted down another ten seconds, then held his breath and put his hands over his head and wait.
Nothing happened. The bunker was still notable by its too solid existence and complete non-explodedness.
The Doctor sighed. This sort of thing never used to happen when he had Ace around. The problem in those days had been things tending to explode too much and too soon, not bombs stubbornly refusing to go off until possibly some time next week. He glared at the bunker through the greenery, but that didn’t fix the problem.
“Psst,” said someone suddenly crouching down beside him. “You haven’t seen a six foot fish go past, have you?”
The Doctor turned his head. The person was definitely not Clara and they didn’t seem to have the first idea about basic sneakery or the concept of camouflage, since in addition to the loud stage whisper, the newcomer was wearing a bright yellow and black suit with sequins sewn to his lapels and the edging of his jacket and pockets. He also had a matching large hat with a tall feather in it. His outfit probably even involved shoulder pads. Maybe several.
“Not recently, and not round these parts,” the Doctor said in answer to the stranger’s fishy query. “But the way my day’s going, hang around here for a bit longer – you never know.”
“Damn. Still, no harm in asking. One of these days the answer’s gonna be yes, right?” said the newcomer. He was not, the Doctor realised, entirely human, or at least not exactly your regular homo sapiens. He had an edge of the feline about him; no lumbering apes in his ancestral bloodlines.
The Doctor coughed. “Did you want anything else? Only I am sitting out here, hiding from my mortal enemies, waiting for that bunker to explode, so you might want to consider getting out of my way if you don’t want to wind up plastered across the landscape in the near future.”
“Okay, but first, have you seen an android with a head like a modern art sculpture, a weaselly hologram, and a guy who thinks curry stains are the new black?”
“No.”
“You sure about that? They gotta be round here somewhere…”
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. A sarcastic eyebrow. The recipient didn’t even notice, let alone flinch. “I’m pretty sure I’d have remembered. So, no. Now, go away before you get us both shot!”
In front of them, the bunker door burst open and three figures came tearing out at a run, yelling loudly. One of them did indeed have a head that could have won prizes at the Tate Modern, the other had an H on his forehead, marking him out as a hologram (weasel-ness not yet confirmed one way or the other), and the other definitely seemed to have been determined to decorate himself with chicken vindaloo at his last meal, or possibly several last meals.
“Okay, now I have,” said the Doctor. “I can’t say I was expecting that.”
“Damn,” said the stranger again, this time with more feeling. “I thought I’d finally lost them!”
And then, with perfect comic timing, the bunker exploded.
***
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(If Blake is too hard, I'll settle for Evelyn Smythe)
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And I am so stealing this.
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Georgina Jones & Vila.
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Manual Repairs, B7/DW, Zoe Heriot + Kerr Avon, G, 192 words
“I suppose,” said Avon after a few more minutes of thought, “it was the secondary relay unit? Damn. I knew I should have checked it more thoroughly.”
Zoe shook her head, finishing her chocolate.
Avon signed. “Very well, Miss Heriot. Purely in the interests of science, what the hell was wrong with that infernal machine?”
“Well,” said Zoe eventually, and wiped a chocolate smear from her mouth while trying to contain her clear aura of smugness, “it took me some time, but I finally located the power socket…”