Subject: Re: Hey, don't mock the Barney!
Author:
Posted on: 2014-02-23 07:45:00 UTC
I missed Barney by a few years--already a teenager by the time he got popular, so I only got the negative talk about the show.
I never saw him as having real thoughts and emotions before though, and you gave me that concept of him being a person in my mind. Not easy with a biased audience.
I'm reading over some old crossover drabbles of mine, and I had an idea for a crossover-writing game/exercise.
List up to five fandoms. The person after you has to write a short piece that crosses over at least two of those five fandoms. Try to make it as plausible as possible. The writer of the drabble then posts five fandoms for the next person to mess around in, and so on.
I'll start with The Hobbit and BBC Sherlock:
No one likes a bored dragon, especially not when said bored dragon was your smial-mate.
“For the fifteenth time, Smaug, I am not going to give you any more pipe weed!” snapped Bilbo Baggins to the eye that peered in from a nearby window. Ever since he and the fearsome dragon struck a deal for the dragon’s life (there had been a very pointy black arrow involved). Smaug now was living with Bilbo in Bag End, bored out of his mind at the overwhelming amount of green that he was not allowed to torch and feeding on regular meals of sheep from the Shire’s pastures (Bilbo was thankful his parents had left him enough money to buy enough sheep to feed this bottomless stomach of a dragon).
“I require excitement, Baggins,” the low rumble of Smaug resounded from outside, complete with an exasperated huff of smoke.
“You could go help Famer Maggot figure out who’s been stealing from his fields,” said Bilbo.
“Dull,” grumbled the dragon. The ground trembled as he rolled over like a giant scaly puppy. “Everyone knows it’s those Brandybuck twits from Buckland.”
“How did you figure that out?”
“The mud splattered on the crops left behind came from Buckland.”
That was one thing Bilbo hadn’t expected when he had brought the giant fire-drake home. Smaug was clever, as all dragons tried to be, but he made it into an art form. This art of deduction and detection was a skill he utilised in order to charm the Shirrifs into looking the other way whenever he wanted to steal food more substantial than mutton. Greg Lestrade, chief of the Watch in Hobbiton, relied often on the dragon’s wits to help catch petty thieves.
“Well, I’m sure if you checked the news there’ll be something interesting,” said Bilbo.
“Nothing happens here,” complained Smaug. “We should go somewhere else. Why don’t we visit Mordor? Or Mirkwood? Plenty of interesting things there.”
“I’ve experienced enough of Mirkwood to last me a lifetime. Plus, the Elves would shoot you first and ask questions later.” Bilbo put on the kettle and poked his head out the window at Smaug, who was now blowing smoke-rings into the sky. “Besides, I’ve no desire to go to Mordor. Bad for the digestion.”
“Ah, yes, speaking of digestion, here’s Lestrade,” drawled Smaug as the Shirrif in question came tottering up the road to Bag End. “I bet he wants me to find the missing mathoms from Michel Delving.”
The five fandoms:
Doctor Who
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Star Trek
Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Harry Potter
When something crazy happened, there was only one possible explanation.
Well, actually, crazy things had many explanations, but Captain Kathryn Janeway recognized this brand of crazy.
"Q!" she yelled at the sky, pounding the ground with a hoof (it seemed the easiest way to get someone's attention in this body) "What do you want from me this time?"
Far off laughter sounded, and she exhaled loudly through her nose. It made a soft neighing sound, and she heard the far off laughter again, joined by closer laughter.
She whirled on her crew, nearly falling over. "This isn't funny!"
A pony that (based on the Delta Flyer marking on his hindquarters) she guessed was Tom Paris suppressed a chuckle. "Sorry, Captain, but it's hard to be serious when we're multicolored ponies."
She sighed. "I know it seems silly, but let's not lose our heads. We don't know where Voyager is or even what planet we're on."
"And here I was, thinking you would be different from Jean-Luc. How foolish of me."
Janeway whirled around again, and this time landed in a pile of short, stubby limbs. She got to her hooves angrily. "Of course we're going to be concerned about our ships, we're - what, exactly, are you?"
The strange creature that spoke with Q's voice spread his arms. "I am a draconequus! Spirit of mischief and disharmony! Here, they call me Discord." He indicated himself.
"An appropriate name," Janeway said drily. "Why did you bring us here, 'Discord'?"
"Why do I need a reason, Kathy?"
"You usually have one."
"Maybe I just enjoy it when things are mixed up. I have to say, Kathy, you make a lovely pony."
She wrinkled her nose, and continued on her line of thought. "You have a son. You're a responsible adult now. Or at least, you have to set a good example," she added quickly.
"And bringing you to a very safe, happy place isn't setting a good example?" Discord asked innocently. "Your ship is fine, your crew is fine, you're fine." He spread his mismatched arms. "Why don't you explore a little? Relax. Let your hair down. Metaphorically speaking," he added, glancing at her mane.
Janeway fixed him with a hard stare.
"Fine, be that way," he said, and vanished in a flash of light.
She sighed.
"Everyone, spread out. After all, we are explorers."
But Uhura was born way too early to be Captain Janeway's magical girl mentor. She'd be something like eighty years old when Janeway was old enough to attract Kyubey's attention, and that was the lynchpin that this whole story revolved on. I'll just have to look through someone else's posts, unless I decide to make another concept and use fewer fandoms in it.
The Doctor banged on the wall/door/force shield on his cell. "For the last time, I'm not the saboteur!" he yelled, kicking the door in frustration.
Staring intently at the ensign whose name he couldn't remember, he said, "Can I at least talk to the ship's Doctor?"
The girl nodded, and pressed a button on the intercom. "Brig to Sickbay, the prisoner has requested Dr. McCoy's presence."
Things were silent except for the beeping that all the computers on this ship seemed to enjoy doing.
McCoy walked up a few minutes later, looking like River did when the Doctor did something monumentally stupid. Meaning pissed. "I'm not letting you out. You landed Jim in the hospital, and now he has yet another food allergy."
"I'm not trying to escape. It's just, your saboteurs are shapeshifters."
This didn't surprise McCoy as much as the Doctor thought it would. "Okay... you could've been a bit more original, anything else?"
"Um... their true form is red, and very big, and covered in suckers. The best way to kill them is to shoot them."
The Doctor realized to his horror that as he was speaking, McCoy had turned into exactly what he had been describing. Gulping, he jabbed his sonic screwdriver at the force shield, which exploded into a field of sparks. "Nice meeting you, but I gotta go," he said, before running very quickly away.
PMMM/Doctor Who
---
"You shouldn't be here."
"Why not?"
The Doctor paced around the TARDIS's control suite, glowering at the consoles and not looking at the interloper. He smacked something with a hammer and the ship lurched violently, spiraling off through space and time to get as far away as it could. He fought for hours, he fought for days, hurling his ship through the universe and even outside on occasion.
Still she stayed.
"Why won't you talk to me?" She asked on the twelfth day.
"Because you shouldn't be here."
It was the only answer the Doctor ever gave her, and then things got tricky for her. She wanted to help people who were in pain, and he was, oh, how he was. She wanted to take the pain away. Always.
He threw her off and he ran and ran, going on forever and going through forever. Regenerations came and went, and still she stayed, watching him. Sometimes she wanted to protect him more directly, but one of her merest arrows could sunder a whole world. So she stood, and waited.
"Why won't you talk to me," she asked on the last day.
The Doctor sighed and turned. He was old now, impossibly old, still going through the universe and touching lives. "Because... because you're asking the wrong questions."
He parked the ship on a deserted beach on an unknown world.
"Then what's the right question?"
"You've had thousands of years," he wheezed, "and you haven't come up with the answer?"
"Um... why shouldn't I have been here?"
"Ah. Well, that's on the right track. Ish. You should have been spent long ago, spent and used up and thrown away."
"Are... are you frightened?"
"Yes. Of you, before you ask."
"Why?"
"Because I..." The Doctor fought for breath. "Because I remember what you did. What my people made you do, made you into."
She looked at him blankly.
"Oh, hasn't it happened yet? Hah, time for you, I suppose. All... what was it that I used to say? Timey-wimey or some such thing. Youth. Gets you in the end, doesn't it? Well, it's time I stopped running away from, I think."
"You'll let me take away your pain?" asked Madoka Kaname.
"Yes," said the Doctor, and became the first victim of the Nightmare Child.
---
Rastamouse (yes, it's a real show)
Barney The Dinosaur
Beetleborgs
Charlie Chalk
Dennis The Menace
Barney watched from across the room, a rare frown turning his snout downwards. "Um." He tapped his fingertips together, trying to think of what to say to this rambunctious child--but politely. One should always be polite and respectful to children!
"Now, Dennis, you certainly are an energetic playmate, but I think we're making too much of a mess now."
"Aw, this isn't so bad!" said the boy with the sandy blond hair, as he knocked a set of cupboards off the wall. "You should have seen the living room after me an' Joey tried to play baseball. Mom made me sit in the corner for almost an hour!"
Barney turned and took stock of the room. Between the rugs torn off the floor, the avalanches of toys and coloring books erupting from drawers and cubbies, and the large puddle of water spreading beneath the damaged drinking fountain, Barney felt very, very sorry for Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell.
"Well, it's still a very big mess, and since all our other friends have been scared away, we should probably get started on putting everything away. I know! There's a great song we can sing about cleaning up.
"♪Now it's time to put away, everything that we--♪"
"No offense, Mr. Dinosaur," said Dennis, but that sounds like the kinda dumb song Margaret might sing. An' I don't know why all the other kids went home! I've been havin' all kinds of fun! I guess they usually play more boring games, huh?"
Barney sputtered for a bit. "Well, um, Dennis, different people can have different kinds of fun . . ."
"'Cept for Mr. Wilson! He doesn't like to have any kinda fun. Say, do you know Mr. Wilson? Mrs. Wilson said there were dinosaurs around when he was a kid!"
"Well, of course I remember George, Dennis. I remember all my little friends! But that's because I'm a magic dinosaur, not because--"
"I knew it! Ha ha, good ol' Mr. Wilson! Say, I think that's my mom callin'. I hope it's not Brussels sprouts for dinner. Blegh!"
Dennis charged the door, knocking even more clutter and material around as he ran. "See ya tomorrow, Mr. Dinosaur!" he called, waving over his shoulder as he left.
Barney sighed as the door swung shut. "That boy is a--" he perked up-- "very special friend!"
He bent over, using his stubby tyrannosaurus arms to pick up toys. "♪We always clean up, clean up, to show we really care . . .♪"
Canons!
"The Order of the Stick"
The Shining
Final Fantasy X
High School Musical
"Sleeping Beauty"
You made Barney into a sympathetic character! Wow! I hated Barney, and here he is like this wonderful, patient teacher who can even be nice to Dennis the Menace!
I was a major Barney fanboy as a little 'un. No amount of teasing kept me from my fandom! Until I got older, anyway.
But, yeah. I did try to keep this fairly low-key, to match the kid-oriented natures of both canons.
I missed Barney by a few years--already a teenager by the time he got popular, so I only got the negative talk about the show.
I never saw him as having real thoughts and emotions before though, and you gave me that concept of him being a person in my mind. Not easy with a biased audience.
If a little insipid and schmaltzy at times.
Interestingly, the UK version of Dennis the Menace is rather different to the US version. The US version talks too loud and makes a mess. The UK version hurls rotten fruit at policemen and decorated war veterans, beats the living daylights out of other kids, and occasionally goes into space. =]
Apologies if I used the wrong Menace for my story. I didn't realize there were two different versions!
It kind of goes against expectations, actually. You would think the British Dennis would be the slightly improper one, while the American Dennis would be the badly-behaved one.
But the US Dennis was a product of Fifties America. This was the kind of United States that Rockwell painted, where the nuclear family was the only kind allowed in fiction, where father knew best except when it was funnier for mother to. American popular culture of that age wasn't about to mess with that particular formula, especially not in a child-oriented newspaper funny. US Dennis was a lovable misbehaving brat that was designed to show mildly exaggerated versions of the problems the parents of a slightly boisterous child would have.
UK Dennis, on the other hand... not so much. A big part of it is that the strip's original tagline in the Beano comic was "The World's Wildest Boy", and he really had to live up to that. UK Dennis is also quite a lot older than his US counterpart, which means more potential for menacing, and he is beaten frequently in the strip. What the UK comics did was to have him do rather more elaborate stuff and be seen to get punished for it, whereas from what I've read of the US version (I can't get through much of it at a time because I find it supremely dull, so correct me if I'm wrong) US Dennis isn't punished very much at all. Again, this is probably something we can attribute to the age gap.
I much prefer the UK version, and I think that most US citizens would too. Rather than speak loudly in the presents of adults, he constructs elaborate traps to humiliate them. He's quite thick, yeah, but he's also got an extremely intuitive grasp of mechanics, having built dune buggies, go-karts, and even a working rocket. He splatters people with tomatos, he beats people up, he's got a slew of pets... what's not to love?
Unless you're on the receiving end, of course.
It'd be less fun then. =]
typically amounts to Dennis being made to sit in a chair in the corner for a while. Since he's a kid, though, he still gripes about it quite a bit (especially since he seems averse to ever sitting still ever). Doesn't change his behavior, of course, since then there would be no conflict.
If you're into dull or crappy comics being criticized, I suggest the blog "Comics Curmudgeon." It sometimes uses NSFW language or jokes, but the criticism itself is great. The lack of actually menacing qualities in the U.S!Dennis is one of the many running misinterpretations on the blog.
Link here (again, mediocre NSFWness): http://joshreads.com/
I only found out about it a month or two ago, and after reading a few pages worth of archived strips, immediately wondered how I could have been on the Internet for so long and not even heard of it before. The question only grew larger once I realized how well-known it seemed to be. It's like XKCD says: every day there are 10,000 people who discover something for the first time that "everyone already knows about". I guess I was one of that day's lucky 10,000.
I think I'll give the blog a miss, ta. I'm working on the scripts for a series of video reviews, and the UK/US Dennis dichotomy is one of the episodes I'm planning on doing.
Also G-Force and the Moshi Monsters movie.
I hate myself.
I would like to watch them, once you're finished! Also, what are your plans for the format? SF Debris-style voiceover only, Channel Awesome-style intercuts with you in live-action, or something else? Animation would probably need a lot more effort than it would be worth, but I've seen a lot of other creative third options. There's one video reviewer I've seen who intercut to a pair of Muppets.
Once they're scripted and the storyline is hammered into shape (yeah, I plan to involve story, DWI), I'm going to shoot it all live. To avoid roving copyright drones, scenes from the thing I'll be reviewing will be replicated with various inanimate objects, and the title card will have an original theme tune. Xylophones may or may not be involved. =]
I like the idea of acting out scenes from the movies with inanimate objects. Not only is it original, it'll undoubtedly provide you with plenty of opportunities to make exaggerated voice impersonations!
What do you plan to have the story be about? Also, what does DWI stand for? The internet claims it stands for Driving While Intoxicated, Descriptive Word Index, or Diffusion-Weighted Imaging, none of which make sense in that sentence.
The story, such as it is, concerns a very happy-go-lucky clown to whom things happen and have happened. There are some cosmic horror elements that my budget is too miniscule to actually show in detail, so they will merely crop up in jokes from time to time, particularly in crossovers. It's a personal dream of mine to do some of the early (and terrible) British comics like Topper or Whizzer And Chips on Atop The Fourth Wall, but I understand that it'll never happen.
I'll settle for a cameo in a Diamanda Hagan review, but that's entirely under duress. =]
You are a brave, brave woman.
Any movie that can involve guinea pigs and still manage to repulse me has failed on a primordial level.
The challenge, of course, is making actual jokes out of something so comprehensively unfunny. I mean, yeesh.
Let me try this. I choose Doctor Who and Sherlock:
"Going back in time and changing history; that's cheating," Jim remarked with a glimmer of amusement.
"A trick I learned from an old friend," Spock Prime replied, unfazed. He leaned back ever so slightly thinking of old times and of a friend
Of course, Spock was but a child when he met him. A rather mysterious fellow he was, who insisted on being addressed as the Doctor. He did not seem to have a degree in anything, which puzzled Spock a bit. Doctor of what? Doctor Who?
Nevertheless, he was pulled into a small adventure with the man and his companions. Spock wondered whether he was dreaming- a blue British Police box dating back to pre-warp Terra that could travel through time seemed much too childish and wildly unrealistic. And yet...the memories were so vivid. A familiar wheezing sound in the distance interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see nothing. A slight breeze caressed his aged face.
The five fandoms:
Lord of the Rings
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
BBC Sherlock
Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyonjin
Hetalia: Axis Powers
Sherlock was not surprised that the police didn't know how the murder happened. The police were usually wrong. No one could see what was right in front of them. No one could observe.
But this was ridiculous.
"I thought you said she was stabbed with a knife!"
The chief investigator furrowed his brow. "It is a knife."
"No, it's clearly a venomous spike from some sort of animal. Our culprit was creative." Sherlock knelt on the pavement next to the body. "It was thrown at the victim, from a very odd angle - see how it has sunk in more on this side? That indicates it was thrown upward, as if launched from the ground."
"Why couldn't the culprit have simply stabbed upwards?" the investigator asked.
"If you held this spike in your hand, you too would be affected by the venom, and there haven't been any other deaths. I don't recognize what creature this is from, though."
"It's not a spike, it's a dagger," the investigator said, frustrated.
"And I said, are you blind, that is clearly a spike," Sherlock said. "I didn't think you were that stupid. So, why would someone - "
He broke off short.
"What is it?"
Sherlock turned and bolted. He had a feeling, a strong feeling. Someone - someone right now - was facing their death. He had never been more certain of anything in his life, and it simultaneously terrified him and excited him.
He darted through side streets and around street corners, pulled by the feeling. Was he going to save their life, or were they going to die, and he would have a murder to solve? He didn't know, and he didn't care. It was exhilirating, and strange.
He stopped short in a darkened alleyway. A sandy haired teenager was pinned to the wall with one of the spikes he'd seen earlier, and a person - no, a creature - faced him, tail long and spiky. That was how they were thrown from that angle!
A part of Sherlock's brain registered that monsters weren't supposed to exist, and then another part of his brain realized that was John Watson. The closest thing he had to a friend.
"Half-blood. I should have known," The investigator said.
"What did you just call me?" John asked, wincing in pain.
"Of course he'd befriend you. Less powerful, but still satisfying."
The monster turned.
"I knew you'd come out of hiding for this. Drawn to death, incredibly observant," he continued. "Enjoy this death, Son of Hades."
The monster fired a barrage of spikes, and instinctively, Sherlock held up his hands. "Not John!" he yelled, and the ground rumbled. A crack split apart the asphalt, and it widened into a fissure. The monster and spikes tumbled into the abyss, and the fissure closed with a loud crunch.
Sherlock collapsed to the ground and exhaled. John freed himself from the spike on the wall by ripping his shirt, and, clutching his shoulder, he joined Sherlock.
"What was that?"
Sherlock stared at the crack in the asphalt.
"Sherlock, how did that happen?"
He looked up. "I don't know, John."
--
I'm probably going to expand this at some point, since I have a bunch of other ideas that provide backstory for this as well as some ideas about other characters once they get to Camp Half-Blood. Backstory:
John and Sherlock met at school because of some mutual demigod problem (only they don't know that's why they're drawn to each other), but I'm not exactly sure what. John's a son of Asclepius because doctors, which is why he's less noticable than Sherlock, son of Hades.
Other ideas:
Lestrade is head counselor for Hermes, which is where Sherlock stays when he gets to Camp Half-Blood.
Molly is a daughter of Athena.
Mary is from the Roman camp. I don't know why, but it feels right for some reason.
Fandoms:
Welcome to Night Vale
Almost Human
Avengers
The Kane Chronicles
Star Trek
(Oh gods I might want to do some of these - I already have lots of ideas for Almost Human/Star Trek. This is so much fun.)
“You don’t understand, detective,” Jim Kirk was saying, tugging against his handcuffs as Detective Stahl eyed him from the other side of the interrogation chamber. “I’ve got to find my friend.”
“Who is your friend?” asked Stahl, looking between him and the other man, Spock, who was staring at her as straight-faced as any MX would. Evidently the man has altered his appearance, pointing his ears and angling his eyebrows. She never really questioned other peoples’ face alteration surgery choices. However, this would prove inconvenient if the man had been listed in their criminal databases under some other identity – he did look all too familiar.
“His name’s Leonard McCoy,” said Jim. “We were sent here to stop him from doing something.”
“Is this ‘Leonard McCoy’ a criminal?” asked Stahl.
Jim laughed. “No, he’s not. He’s my chief medical officer. Best friend, too. He –” he cut off as he caught a glimpse of Detective Kennex and Dorian through the glass walls. “There he is! Bones!” he shouted, waving at the man who was heading for their room. Even Spock seemed to have been startled at this sudden realisation.
Detective Stahl shook her head. “No, Mr Kirk, that’s Detective Kennex, my colleague.”
“Yeah, and I’ve got some questions for you,” added Detective Kennex as he and Dorian entered the room.
“Bones, you’ve got to come back with us,” Jim snapped.
“Why don’t you give your mouth a rest, Mr Kirk? I’ve got questions for your friend,” retorted Kennex, not sparing Jim another look as he turned to Spock. “My partner Dorian’s recognised you, ‘Spock’, as the serial killer Gabriel Grayson who had a fondness for extracting the brains of his victims to sell on the black market. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Detective, I can assure you that I am not this ‘Gabriel Grayson’ that you speak of. My name is Spock, and while my mother is indeed from the Grayson family on Earth, I am not the same as he.”
“That can be proven,” said Kennex, nodding at Stahl as Dorian took out a small black tube and instructed Spock to breathe into it. The man (?) then plugged his finger into it, and bright blue lights began flashing about his face.
“Woah, how come his face can do that?” asked Jim.
“Dorian is a DRN,” said Kennex.
“An android,” added Spock, as Dorian turned to the two detectives.
“He’s telling the truth. No trace of Gabriel Grayson’s DNA,” he said.
“Well, there’s that lead done with,” muttered Kennex sullenly.
Jim frowned. “What’s the date?” he asked suddenly.
“2048,” offered Dorian.
Jim’s brows furrowed deeper. “Something’s definitely changed,” he murmured. “The Federation’s not supposed to have androids in 2048.”
Spock considered this. “We are approximately two decades away from developing warp. The tricorder may be able to tell us exactly what Dr McCoy has done to corrupt the timeline.”
“But he wouldn’t have created all of this,” snapped Jim, gesturing to the room.
Stahl turned to Kennex and Dorian. “Do you understand any of this?” she asked.
“Can’t help you there,” agreed Kennex. “These kids must’ve spent too much time in some virtual reality. It’s even affected their sense of time.”
“Look,” Jim spoke up suddenly. “Do you guys have some spare robotic parts that Spock can use? We’d like to get home just as much as you’d like us to get out of here – and I’m not going to believe any of that ‘Detective Kennex’ stuff until I find Bones – and giving Spock the tools he needs is going to go a long way.”
“Buddy, I don’t think you understand how much we don’t trust you right now, even if your friend’s not a serial killer,” retorted Kennex.
Spock raised an eyebrow at that, before taking out his tricorder. “Do you recognise this?” he asked Dorian, who reached out to touch it, circuitry flashing.
“No,” said Dorian.
“Do you detect any threats on it?” asked Spock.
“No,” said Dorian.
“This is a device known as the tricorder,” said Spock. “I have used it to record the date of arrival of our chief medical officer in your time –”
“Oh, that’s brilliant, now we’ve got time travellers to deal with,” groused Kennex.
“That wasn’t already obvious?” asked Stahl.
“I thought they just bumped their heads too hard. Now I know.”
“But Dorian didn’t recognise the tech they have,” Stahl pointed out. “There may be truth to their story.”
“As I was saying,” Spock said in a louder voice, “if I can assemble a device to read the data from this tricorder, I will be able to locate when Dr McCoy shows up and what he does to corrupt the timeline.”
Stahl looked at Kennex, who closed his eyes and groaned before nodding.
“All right, all right,” he grumbled, pulling out his mobile. “I’ll call Rudy.”
~~
So I have the mad idea that this is all a couple years before the Eugenics Wars. Gabriel Grayson (what, no, this isn't a mini-crossover with Heroes, what are yout alking about) is meant to kidnap Stahl and study her genome. She is a Chrome, after all, which would inspire Grayson and whatever sinister organisation he's got with him to create Khan and the Augments and send humanity spiralling into the Eugenics Wars.
Bones will save Stahl (since he looks like Kennex, she'll probably not beat him up when he rescues her) and they'll probably take down Grayson, but then some other stuff will happen which will lead to, I dunno, Nigel Vaughn destroying the Earth with an army of XRNs before warp drive is achieved?
Yeah, Detective Stahl is Edith Keeler in this crossover, sorry.
Fandoms:
Men in Black
Doctor Who
Supernatural
Hetalia
Calvin and Hobbes
(I'm assuming you mean the Marvel Avengers and not the TV series)
---
There is the slick sound of meat hitting meat. It is coming closer. You know only that you fear it. It is the beat of a heart. Your heart. Welcome to Night Vale.
Listeners, some exciting news! Carlos has told me to tell you that another team of scientists and engineers are coming to our town. Won't that be fun? Let's all remember how well it went last time a scientist came to our little town.
The leader of the team, Carlos's old friend Tony, is apparently quite famous. You remember that thing that happened a few years ago in New York, listeners? When the day was saved in part by a collection of strange and unnerving possibly-humans and in part by our diligent, monotone chanting? Well, according to Carlos, Tony was part of that.
I'm sure we're all going to give Tony and his team a good old-fashioned Night Vale welcome. Heck, I would even invite Tony into my home! Also, I kinda have to, since Strexcorp - who own all the hotels and, indeed, most of the other businesses in town - have immediately declared this month Happiness In Isolation Month. As part of teaching us how to survive without much in the way of contact with the outside world, Strexcorp have shut all the hotels, bed and breakfasts, lodging facilities, and homeless shelters for the duration of Happiness In Isolation Month. Since this was announced on Time Is Mutable Tuesday, another recent addition to the Night Vale calendar, we do not know how long Happiness In Isolation Month will last. What we do know is that Tony and the gang will be happy here.
I - I hear something. Listeners, it sounds like a large helicopter, but... not! It doesn't have the chatter of the black helicopters, the whir of the blue, the jaunty show-tunes of the yellow, or the peculiar noise like slowly grinding meat and hair common to the white helicopters with elaborate murals of diving birds of prey. I have to get onto the roof to check this out. In the meantime, I give you... the weather
Listeners, I am on the rooftop! This is not a helicopter! This is huge, like a flying battleship crossed with something from a deeper nightmare! Something appears to be flying out of it at speed... a missile, maybe? Whatever it is, it's headed straight for the town square. Listeners, I do not mind telling you that I am very, very frightened. What is the purpose of the giant machine in the sky? What are its desires? What are its hungers? What are its secret night-time longings? I mean, we're all loosely-connected pieces of used-up stellar matter, we all have those.
The missile appears to be slowing as it reaches the town hall, and I can now see that it has split into six distinct shapes, which I will presume are Euclidean. Hold on. I'm going to get closer. Um. [muffled] Where did I put those binoculars- [clear again] Aha! The missile is not a missile at all, but a brightly coloured flying man-shaped thing. The town is indeed safe. The other five sections of the flying man-shaped thing are: a man who is presumably a scientist as well, so Carlos will be thrilled; a large blue man with a shield, who may or may not have come from the Second World War; a red-haired woman in form-fitting black clothing; a deft bowman; and a large, muscular blond knight of some description.
Hold on, listeners, a new development; Carlos the scientist is moving closer to the brightly coloured flying man. The man's face has just come off to reveal another face beneath it, which is just prudent planning. I mean, we've all been there, right? Having your face fall off sometimes when you're out in public is so embarrassing. I mean, it always happens to me in the Ralph's, and I just go bright red. Though that might be because of all the blood.
Carlos is getting closer and - he is hugging the figure! The figure is to be accepted! This must his friend Tony! Put on your best wooden tunics and soft meat crowns, Night Vale, because the new scientists are here-
Listeners, I have received word from Strexcorp, via a hitherto-unseen speaker system which has since begun to vomit motes of pure darkness and emit the sound of faint wind chimes, that we are not to celebrate the arrival of Tony and his friends. The group is apparently here on a mission of vengeance against the company, and Strexcorp has decided that their presence must not be tolerated.
Given that this is a stupid-ass decision, dear listeners, I recommend that you elect to ignore it.
Up next is a short children's segment, in which a segment of a short child will be pushed through the speaker on your radio.
Good night, Night Vale. Good night...
---
Teen Wolf
The Southern Vampire Mysteries
Skulduggery Pleasant
Harry Potter
Thrilling Adventure Hour
You got Cecil's voice perfect, and well, the Avengers and Night Vale fit together better than I thought - after all, they are both close to reality in some ways but totally fantastical in other ways. Very cool, I like.
I feel like we should be collecting these somewhere. I've been thinking about crossposting some of mine to AO3 or ff.net, but all of them are good and I don't want them to fall off the page into oblivion.
Oh, also, hi, I don't think we've met. You probably joined while I was away. So, a very belated welcome from me.
So let's fix that. Hi! Thank you for the welcome and the kind words about my fic. =]
And, incidentally, I'm working on a fic where Bones is The Doctor and Kirk and Spock are his companions.
Lessee here....
Puella Magi Madoka Magica/Harry Potter
As it turns out, after the death of Voldemort, quite a few Death Eaters had escaped, spreading around the globe where they would either hide away relatively harmlessly or be hunted down by magical officials.
At the moment, one Death Eater in particular was running away from that very fate through the nighttime streets of Mitakihara City.
Alexius Rosier had once entertained very big thoughts, of rising through the ranks of the Death Eaters. After the Battle of Hogwarts, those had shrunk to surviving the aftermath of the war, biding his time. As of right now, they had become 'get away get away get away.'
In the corner of his eye, something tugged at his magical senses. He turned around in surprise as the world around him warped, the streets becoming even more shadowed yet somehow strangely lit, as massive white-robed figures rose out of nowhere.
Rosier instinctively snapped up his wand, shouting out the Killing Curse. The bolt of green light seemed to work, the creature crumpling and dissolving, but another one simply rose up to take its place, the strange creatures raising their hands as one to point at him. He barely had the time to cast a shield charm before straight bolts of light hit the shield, and almost broke it. He grimaced as the strain of holding it up began to build, and he realized with a sinking feeling that even if they stopped their barrage he'd never be able to fire off enough curses to get them all in time.
Out of nowhere, a girl with bright yellow hair, dressed in some kind of ridiculous white and brown outfit dropped out of the sky, landing next to him. "Don't worry, you're safe now," she said brightly, waving her hand. A web of ribbons wove over the top of his shield charm, easily stopping the strange bolts. With another theatrical flick, she drew strange, long white tubes out of thin air, each one firing off spheres of orange energy at the monsters.
Her attack was quickly joined by vibrant purple bolts, fired by a girl with a pair of truly enormous glowing white wings and a bow, and a girl dressed all in red with a spear carved through the targets the other two didn't get. Within minutes the creatures had been completely destroyed, with only some strange black cubes that the girls were now diligently collecting remaining.
"Well! I'm so sorry you had to get involved with this," the yellow girl said apologetically. "This is all probably very confusing to you, but it'd probably be for the best if you just went home and tried to forget about this."
Rosier stared in shock. Did the girl actually think he was some kind of (he shuddered at the thought) Muggle? And one so easily fooled as to not need a memory charm? "Listen, I don't know who you think you are, but I know more about magic than you would-"
"Stop right there!" yelled voices from the ends of the alley. Rosier grimaced as members of the Japanese versions of the Aurors (Mahou-shugo something? Something like that, anyways) brandished wands and paper charms at him.
He growled and grabbed the closest girl - the winged one. If she had a bow, she'd probably have the least close-quarters ability of any of them. He pointed his wand at her heart. "Stop or I'll kill her!" he snapped at them. "Now drop your wands and walk away."
Before any of them could obey that, the girl stomped down on his foot, harder than any teenage girl should be capable of. On reflex he fired a curse at her, swearing as he did so. Now his hostage was dead and useless and wait why was she still standing? And glaring at him?
The dark haired girl, who seemed to be quite mobile despite the curse that had very clearly hit her, stood there for a moment, before punching him into a wall. The last thing he managed to think before his vision blacked out was "I am never going to Japan again."
~~~~~
Yes, there is canon evidence of Homura being that hard to kill.
Next fandoms, hmmm
Teen Titans
Elementary
Free! (aka Swimming Anime)
Gravity Falls
Danny Phantom
If someone wanted to contribute and had a crossover idea, but someone else had already replied to the post containing the fandoms that they wanted to use, would a hypothetical Boarder then need to wait for someone else to list the same fandoms, or could they just respond to the post with their own variation, provided that it was different from one of the ideas that had already been used?