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It has come to my attention that there may be a need in HQ for an informal advice column of sorts, and I thought, what better way to use this oft-neglected journal.
So! Got a question? Need advice? Don't want to go all the way to FicPsych? Just ask me! If there's anything I can't answer myself, you might hear from some of my colleagues, too.
The opinions and advice expressed in "Ask Nurse Robinson" are those of Jennifer Robinson and/or other contributors and may not reflect the official policy of the management.
Ficlet - Henry
August 26, 2009 HST
Nurse Edward Davies laid the squirming, six-month-old boy in Jenni's arms, and the world began anew.
"Oh," she sighed, stroking the downy black hair on the baby's head. "He's beautiful."
Edward exchanged a look with Christine, the senior Nursery worker overseeing the day's proceedings. Neither of them would have called this child beautiful. He was light for his length, and his face had an unusually pinched look. He wasn't unhealthy, the combined efforts of the Nursery and the Medical Department had seen to that, but, well, he was Severus Snape's child, sired on Harry Potter. Neither of them was much to look at, either.
Jenni was oblivious, lost in a moment that contained only her and the baby. Memories flickered through her mind. She was drawn to motherhood, and in her many lifetimes children had come and gone at the whims of circumstance. Some were painful to recall—Verin had left a permanent hole in her heart. Thinking of others still gave her joy—pretty little Abigail, quiet Esther with her sketchbook. But none of them had been hers.
Where she came from, the magical could neither create nor destroy physical reality, only manipulate it. Being what she was, an ethereal entity wearing a mortal form like the most comfortable suit, prohibited passing the spark of life to a new being. It wasn't as though her body was barren or incapable of sustaining a pregnancy—all the relevant systems functioned normally—but the ineffable rules of her existence ensured that it simply would not take.
Pern had let her break the rules. Once and only once, she had managed to bring a child of her own body into the world. Aidrian, later A'drin, was special. He had been conceived in the heat of a mating flight for her brown queen dragon, Beth, particularly hard-fought between two passionate suitors, bronze Saganth and bronze/brown Aidiarth. Saganth had flown Beth before, and his rider K'tet had been a particular favorite of Jenni's, but Aidiarth and K'lyr were determined, and Aidiarth had won that flight. Jenni named her son after the dragon and swore she didn't know which of the riders was his father—the three of them had all been jumbled up together when it was over—though privately she was certain it had to be K'lyr. It didn't matter. What mattered was that Aidrian was impossible, but he had happened anyway, and he was hers.
She could only guess that the intense progenitive energies of that flight had helped her along. Maybe because it was so often said that rider and dragon were one, especially during a mating flight, Jenni had been able to borrow some of Beth's potency at a time when their souls were at their most strongly commingled. Maybe. She would never know for certain.
It hadn't happened again in all the rest of her century of life on Pern. It certainly wasn't going to happen here in the PPC, now that she was living as her complete self, in possession of every aspect of her nature. In addition to the metaphysical rules of her universe of origin, there were metafictional rules dictating that great gifts must come with great sacrifice. She had so much love to give; her soul was a near-bottomless well of compassion and healing, but drawing on her nurturing spirit for the sake of those around her came at the cost of never being able to turn it inward. That was not her purpose.
She had been here six years now. The first three had been a turmoil of uncertainty, but she had finally found her feet. She knew who she was again, and what she was meant to do, and why, and—perhaps most importantly—how to do it properly. She was ready to have someone in her life on whom she could lavish a fuller measure of her affection.
When she had heard about this baby, she knew he was meant for her. Who else would look at the unlovely, unnatural spawn of Snape and find only joy in him?
People who knew her well enough might raise their eyebrows. Was she living out a fantasy from her previous life in that Potterverse AU?
Maybe. If she were totally honest with herself... maybe. Her time there had ended prematurely, with the near-shattering of her mind, just when she and her Severus had begun to explore a deeper side of their friendship. It was just as well, she knew that objectively, but she didn't stop loving the people who were gone from her life or regretting the loss of what might have been. She would never hold Severus again, and she was resigned to that... but now, she could hold his son, love him, and raise him to be as good and happy a man as she wished his father could have been.
This boy was beautiful.
"Would you like some time alone with him?" said Christine.
Jenni had almost forgotten anyone else was there. She didn't immediately understand the question. "Hm?"
"You don't have to make up your mind right away," the Nursery staffer elaborated. "Spend a little time with him and see how you feel."
Jenni shook her head slowly, in rhythm with the steady, rocking sway of her body. The baby was a warm, solid weight in her arms. He made little fussing sounds, but he had begun to settle down, and he gazed up at her with cloudy-blue infant's eyes. A smile was stuck on Jenni's face. "My mind is made up. All I have to think about is what I'm going to call him. He doesn't have a name yet, does he?"
She and Christine both glanced at Edward.
"No," he said. Nurse Davies, formerly known as Healer Davies, had been recruited from the same fic as the baby and had, in fact, attended his birth. "The agents didn't give him one, and they, er, interrupted before the fathers could."
"Well, then." Jenni gazed down fondly at the baby—her baby. What did he look like? What name would suit his tiny little face? What of the man's face he would grow into?
She wasn't going to name him after either of his fathers, that was for sure. It wouldn't do to trap him in some association or expectation he could never fulfill. He needed the freedom to be himself, whoever that would be.
And yet, the temptation to do homage to them somehow was strong. The boy could never know them, nor they him, but he was their blood nonetheless. Potter and Snape; what an implausible combination. How could two such antagonistic halves combine to make a stable whole?
Hmm.
Jenni looked up at the nurse. "Your name is Edward, right?"
He nodded, looking puzzled.
A grin spread across Jenni's face. "Then that settles it: this little one is Henry. It's perfect." She looked down at him—at Henry. "Hello, Henry," she cooed. Her next words were sung: "Henry, I adore you / Always have done, always will do / And your dreams are mine. / I will always understand / However hard the path you've planned / Our lives will intertwine."
Christine blinked. "Ohhh. Jekyll!" She snickered and said to Edward, "I guess that makes you Mr. Hyde."
"No offense," Jenni put in, though her eyes were only for Henry. "I'm sure you're a nice man. In fact, I think it would make sense for you to continue as his pediatrician, if you'll agree."
"Oh—yes, of course," said Edward, who had no exposure to the strange Muggle amusement that was musical theatre. The reference had gone over his head. "My privilege."
"Wait," said Christine, "but if our Edward is the doctor, what does that make our Henry?"
Jenni spared her a smile. "I don't know yet, but I'm very excited to find out."
Christine chuckled. "If he turns out to be a madman, don't say I didn't warn you."
"Oh, that's not going to happen," Jenni purred to Henry. "It isn't as though I named you after the leading-man counterpart to 'Christine', now, is it?" Not that she had ever considered it. The eyebrows her closest friends would give her for doing that would be completely justified.
Christine the Nursery staffer didn't know that, though, and she laughed. "Good point. I'll get the paperwork."
That day, Jenni adopted Henry Dale Robinson.
Less than a year later, his eyes had settled on a clear, bright green.
He was hers, as much as any child could be.
Neshomeh's Notes:
Trivia - I started writing this in July 2015, responding to Jenni's complaints about not giving her any fluff with her son. Then I totally forgot about it for four years, until I came to make the last entry. ^_^; But now it's a thing!
More trivia - In his fic of origin, Henry was going to be called Jacob Michael Snape. Bleh!
I don't think I knew that Nurse Davies had a first name, let alone that it was Edward, when I decided to name Henry after Dr. Henry Jekyll, whose evil alter ego is Mr. Edward Hyde. Looking it all up again only to find that was just the cherry on top of my sundae. ^_^
I think Nursery-staffer Christine was an arbitrary choice of a name that only had one very old mention attributed to it, but it could have been deliberate. I have no idea. It worked pretty well for a joke, though. *g*
Edit (05.13.2021) - I've retconned Henry's middle name. It was originally "Rowling," but I no longer find it suitable to do that much homage, and it was kinda weird as a middle name anyway. I wanted to call him something after one of his rescuers instead, but there's not much to work with between "Oscar Henson" and "Iza." ("Henry Henson" is right out.) I considered "Heales" as in Trojanhorse Heales-Shadowfax, author of the mission, but that's also kind of a weird middle name. However, it turns out it's a topographic name indicating that the bearer lived in a hollow or valley, so I chose a synonym that I think sounds nice.
Since he eventually gets a little brother who also gets a middle name that's a nod to a PPC author, I guess this is just a cheeky, meta thing Jenni does!
Nurse Edward Davies laid the squirming, six-month-old boy in Jenni's arms, and the world began anew.
"Oh," she sighed, stroking the downy black hair on the baby's head. "He's beautiful."
Edward exchanged a look with Christine, the senior Nursery worker overseeing the day's proceedings. Neither of them would have called this child beautiful. He was light for his length, and his face had an unusually pinched look. He wasn't unhealthy, the combined efforts of the Nursery and the Medical Department had seen to that, but, well, he was Severus Snape's child, sired on Harry Potter. Neither of them was much to look at, either.
Jenni was oblivious, lost in a moment that contained only her and the baby. Memories flickered through her mind. She was drawn to motherhood, and in her many lifetimes children had come and gone at the whims of circumstance. Some were painful to recall—Verin had left a permanent hole in her heart. Thinking of others still gave her joy—pretty little Abigail, quiet Esther with her sketchbook. But none of them had been hers.
Where she came from, the magical could neither create nor destroy physical reality, only manipulate it. Being what she was, an ethereal entity wearing a mortal form like the most comfortable suit, prohibited passing the spark of life to a new being. It wasn't as though her body was barren or incapable of sustaining a pregnancy—all the relevant systems functioned normally—but the ineffable rules of her existence ensured that it simply would not take.
Pern had let her break the rules. Once and only once, she had managed to bring a child of her own body into the world. Aidrian, later A'drin, was special. He had been conceived in the heat of a mating flight for her brown queen dragon, Beth, particularly hard-fought between two passionate suitors, bronze Saganth and bronze/brown Aidiarth. Saganth had flown Beth before, and his rider K'tet had been a particular favorite of Jenni's, but Aidiarth and K'lyr were determined, and Aidiarth had won that flight. Jenni named her son after the dragon and swore she didn't know which of the riders was his father—the three of them had all been jumbled up together when it was over—though privately she was certain it had to be K'lyr. It didn't matter. What mattered was that Aidrian was impossible, but he had happened anyway, and he was hers.
She could only guess that the intense progenitive energies of that flight had helped her along. Maybe because it was so often said that rider and dragon were one, especially during a mating flight, Jenni had been able to borrow some of Beth's potency at a time when their souls were at their most strongly commingled. Maybe. She would never know for certain.
It hadn't happened again in all the rest of her century of life on Pern. It certainly wasn't going to happen here in the PPC, now that she was living as her complete self, in possession of every aspect of her nature. In addition to the metaphysical rules of her universe of origin, there were metafictional rules dictating that great gifts must come with great sacrifice. She had so much love to give; her soul was a near-bottomless well of compassion and healing, but drawing on her nurturing spirit for the sake of those around her came at the cost of never being able to turn it inward. That was not her purpose.
She had been here six years now. The first three had been a turmoil of uncertainty, but she had finally found her feet. She knew who she was again, and what she was meant to do, and why, and—perhaps most importantly—how to do it properly. She was ready to have someone in her life on whom she could lavish a fuller measure of her affection.
When she had heard about this baby, she knew he was meant for her. Who else would look at the unlovely, unnatural spawn of Snape and find only joy in him?
People who knew her well enough might raise their eyebrows. Was she living out a fantasy from her previous life in that Potterverse AU?
Maybe. If she were totally honest with herself... maybe. Her time there had ended prematurely, with the near-shattering of her mind, just when she and her Severus had begun to explore a deeper side of their friendship. It was just as well, she knew that objectively, but she didn't stop loving the people who were gone from her life or regretting the loss of what might have been. She would never hold Severus again, and she was resigned to that... but now, she could hold his son, love him, and raise him to be as good and happy a man as she wished his father could have been.
This boy was beautiful.
"Would you like some time alone with him?" said Christine.
Jenni had almost forgotten anyone else was there. She didn't immediately understand the question. "Hm?"
"You don't have to make up your mind right away," the Nursery staffer elaborated. "Spend a little time with him and see how you feel."
Jenni shook her head slowly, in rhythm with the steady, rocking sway of her body. The baby was a warm, solid weight in her arms. He made little fussing sounds, but he had begun to settle down, and he gazed up at her with cloudy-blue infant's eyes. A smile was stuck on Jenni's face. "My mind is made up. All I have to think about is what I'm going to call him. He doesn't have a name yet, does he?"
She and Christine both glanced at Edward.
"No," he said. Nurse Davies, formerly known as Healer Davies, had been recruited from the same fic as the baby and had, in fact, attended his birth. "The agents didn't give him one, and they, er, interrupted before the fathers could."
"Well, then." Jenni gazed down fondly at the baby—her baby. What did he look like? What name would suit his tiny little face? What of the man's face he would grow into?
She wasn't going to name him after either of his fathers, that was for sure. It wouldn't do to trap him in some association or expectation he could never fulfill. He needed the freedom to be himself, whoever that would be.
And yet, the temptation to do homage to them somehow was strong. The boy could never know them, nor they him, but he was their blood nonetheless. Potter and Snape; what an implausible combination. How could two such antagonistic halves combine to make a stable whole?
Hmm.
Jenni looked up at the nurse. "Your name is Edward, right?"
He nodded, looking puzzled.
A grin spread across Jenni's face. "Then that settles it: this little one is Henry. It's perfect." She looked down at him—at Henry. "Hello, Henry," she cooed. Her next words were sung: "Henry, I adore you / Always have done, always will do / And your dreams are mine. / I will always understand / However hard the path you've planned / Our lives will intertwine."
Christine blinked. "Ohhh. Jekyll!" She snickered and said to Edward, "I guess that makes you Mr. Hyde."
"No offense," Jenni put in, though her eyes were only for Henry. "I'm sure you're a nice man. In fact, I think it would make sense for you to continue as his pediatrician, if you'll agree."
"Oh—yes, of course," said Edward, who had no exposure to the strange Muggle amusement that was musical theatre. The reference had gone over his head. "My privilege."
"Wait," said Christine, "but if our Edward is the doctor, what does that make our Henry?"
Jenni spared her a smile. "I don't know yet, but I'm very excited to find out."
Christine chuckled. "If he turns out to be a madman, don't say I didn't warn you."
"Oh, that's not going to happen," Jenni purred to Henry. "It isn't as though I named you after the leading-man counterpart to 'Christine', now, is it?" Not that she had ever considered it. The eyebrows her closest friends would give her for doing that would be completely justified.
Christine the Nursery staffer didn't know that, though, and she laughed. "Good point. I'll get the paperwork."
That day, Jenni adopted Henry Dale Robinson.
Less than a year later, his eyes had settled on a clear, bright green.
He was hers, as much as any child could be.
Neshomeh's Notes:
Trivia - I started writing this in July 2015, responding to Jenni's complaints about not giving her any fluff with her son. Then I totally forgot about it for four years, until I came to make the last entry. ^_^; But now it's a thing!
More trivia - In his fic of origin, Henry was going to be called Jacob Michael Snape. Bleh!
I don't think I knew that Nurse Davies had a first name, let alone that it was Edward, when I decided to name Henry after Dr. Henry Jekyll, whose evil alter ego is Mr. Edward Hyde. Looking it all up again only to find that was just the cherry on top of my sundae. ^_^
I think Nursery-staffer Christine was an arbitrary choice of a name that only had one very old mention attributed to it, but it could have been deliberate. I have no idea. It worked pretty well for a joke, though. *g*
Edit (05.13.2021) - I've retconned Henry's middle name. It was originally "Rowling," but I no longer find it suitable to do that much homage, and it was kinda weird as a middle name anyway. I wanted to call him something after one of his rescuers instead, but there's not much to work with between "Oscar Henson" and "Iza." ("Henry Henson" is right out.) I considered "Heales" as in Trojanhorse Heales-Shadowfax, author of the mission, but that's also kind of a weird middle name. However, it turns out it's a topographic name indicating that the bearer lived in a hollow or valley, so I chose a synonym that I think sounds nice.
Since he eventually gets a little brother who also gets a middle name that's a nod to a PPC author, I guess this is just a cheeky, meta thing Jenni does!
Entry tags:
A Case of Mistaken Identity
I'm pretty sure this is going to be retconned out of continuity, because the way things are going back in 2013-14 there is no way in hell I would actually make this mistake as of 2019, but who knows? If it ends up being even remotely canon, here's how it originally went down, for posterity.
* ...How did you forget [we're all filthy gutterbrained monkeys]? :-P (nm) — Thoth, Wed Jan 16 9:20pm
** It's my fault. I really should drop by more often. ;) (nm) — Captain Jack Harkness, Wed Jan 16 10:35pm
*** (( Wait, that's not the name I thought it was. Oops! )) (nm) — Neshomeh, Thu Jan 17 12:36am
**** ((Too late! :P)) (nm) — Iximaz, Thu Jan 17 4:09am
*** Speaking of which... — Jenni Robinson, Thu Jan 17 12:33am
**** Not that I know of, but... — Captain Jack Harkness, Thu Jan 17 4:09am
***** *dangit, author* — Jenni Robinson, Thu Jan 17 9:04am
****** Sure, why not? — Captain Jack Harkness, Thu Jan 17 11:53am
******* And then there was a ficlet. — Neshomeh, Thu Jan 17 2:22pm
Surprisingly, getting into the department without being seen had been easy. Jenni had her suspicions about this, but seeing as it had been too late to back out gracefully from the word go, she surrendered to the moment. Why not? It wasn't like this was some sort of premeditated, lust-fueled plot to get into his pants. It was an accident. A happy, raunchy accident between two happy, raunchy people. No harm, no foul, right? And Jack was the British image of a cocky, handsome American fly-boy. He was fun.
Of course, the Powers That Be couldn't simply let them get away with it. Oh, no. Upon exiting Room B-9, slightly disheveled and grinning, they ran smack into Head Nurse Suzine.
Suzine narrowed her eyes in immediate suspicion. "Nurse Robinson...?"
"Uh-oh," said Jack. "Are we in trouble?"
Face frozen in its rictus, Jenni latched onto Jack's arm. "I found him!"
"What?" said Suzine.
"What?" laughed Jack.
"Jack, you naughty boy," Jenni said, shaking a finger at him. "You can't go wandering off like that! Come on, back to your room!"
"Um..." said Jack.
Suzine crossed her arms and didn't budge. "You... found him."
"Yes."
"In Section B."
"Yes."
"Wearing a cocktail dress."
"Totally random happenstance," said Jenni, wishing she'd gone with fewer sequins.
"Hey, I'm starting to feel a little sidelined here," said Jack.
Jenni made what she hoped came off as an apologetic grimace and not obvious guilt to both her date and her boss.
Suzine's skepticism was etched on her face like a stone carving. "Riiight. Captain Harkness, why don't you come along with me? I think there's an immediate release form with your name on it."
She made a curt gesture. Jenni let go of Jack's arm, and he, having the sense not to piss off someone who could get away with wearing those heels with that skirt, shrugged and went along.
"Nurse Robinson, I'll see you in the Kudzu's office in fifteen minutes," said the Head Nurse before turning away.
Jack looked over his shoulder, raised a hand with the thumb and pinky spread apart, and mouthed "Call me!"
Jenni waved. Once they'd rounded the corner, she slumped off to Section C and her impending doom.
About twenty minutes later, she stood in front of the Kudzu Vine with Suzine glaring at her from the side.
And you say this was a case of mistaken identity? said the Flower.
"Yes, Ma'am."
Why did you not say so and excuse yourself in the first place?
"Embarrassment and stupidity, Ma'am."
I see. And why did you not simply tell Nurse Suzine the truth right away?
"Panic, Ma'am."
The Kudzu rustled its many leaves, giving the impression of a disappointed sigh. I thought you were more mature than that, Nurse Robinson.
Suzine gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like "Yeah right."
Jenni pressed her lips together, but held her tongue.
Dear oh dear. What are we to do with you? Clearly No-Drool Videos will not be an effective remedy. Unless... If it were possible for a vine to smirk, the Kudzu was doing it. Perhaps, with your clear expertise in this area, you might be able to suggest some... improvements to the regimen?
Jenni winced. Ellipsis improvements. Dear oh dear indeed. "You want me to come up with something so awful it will put off the likes of myself? That... seems pretty cruel. To everyone else."
Oh, don't think of it like that. Consider it a public service. A small contribution on your behalf for the sake of a PPC free of wanton lusting. We will have to mount a plaque on the wall to honor your dedication. Won't that be nice?
Jenni went *wibble*.
Then that settles it. You're dismissed. I know you'll want to get to work right away.
"I hope it was worth it," said Suzine, who at least seemed somewhat taken aback herself.
Jenni muttered something incoherent and went to write her last will and testament.
******** Case of mistaken identity, huh? ;) — Agent Jacques Bonnefoy, Fri Jan 18 12:19pm
********* Unh. Yes, please. x.x — Jenni Robinson, Fri Jan 18 12:34pm
********** It's a date! — Agent Jacques Bonnefoy, Fri Jan 18 1:04pm
And then the deep, serious retconning began. All in all, this wasn't so bad. ^_^
~Jenni
* ...How did you forget [we're all filthy gutterbrained monkeys]? :-P (nm) — Thoth, Wed Jan 16 9:20pm
** It's my fault. I really should drop by more often. ;) (nm) — Captain Jack Harkness, Wed Jan 16 10:35pm
*** (( Wait, that's not the name I thought it was. Oops! )) (nm) — Neshomeh, Thu Jan 17 12:36am
**** ((Too late! :P)) (nm) — Iximaz, Thu Jan 17 4:09am
*** Speaking of which... — Jenni Robinson, Thu Jan 17 12:33am
**** Not that I know of, but... — Captain Jack Harkness, Thu Jan 17 4:09am
...I'm certainly not about to turn down an invitation like that! What do you say to tomorrow? ;P
***** *dangit, author* — Jenni Robinson, Thu Jan 17 9:04am
... And that's how I got written up for egregious fraternizing with canon characters! Wanna get a jump on the No-Drool Videos with me? They're actually kind of fascinating. ^_^
****** Sure, why not? — Captain Jack Harkness, Thu Jan 17 11:53am
This is turning out to be one of the most interesting dates I've had in a while!
******* And then there was a ficlet. — Neshomeh, Thu Jan 17 2:22pm
Surprisingly, getting into the department without being seen had been easy. Jenni had her suspicions about this, but seeing as it had been too late to back out gracefully from the word go, she surrendered to the moment. Why not? It wasn't like this was some sort of premeditated, lust-fueled plot to get into his pants. It was an accident. A happy, raunchy accident between two happy, raunchy people. No harm, no foul, right? And Jack was the British image of a cocky, handsome American fly-boy. He was fun.
Of course, the Powers That Be couldn't simply let them get away with it. Oh, no. Upon exiting Room B-9, slightly disheveled and grinning, they ran smack into Head Nurse Suzine.
Suzine narrowed her eyes in immediate suspicion. "Nurse Robinson...?"
"Uh-oh," said Jack. "Are we in trouble?"
Face frozen in its rictus, Jenni latched onto Jack's arm. "I found him!"
"What?" said Suzine.
"What?" laughed Jack.
"Jack, you naughty boy," Jenni said, shaking a finger at him. "You can't go wandering off like that! Come on, back to your room!"
"Um..." said Jack.
Suzine crossed her arms and didn't budge. "You... found him."
"Yes."
"In Section B."
"Yes."
"Wearing a cocktail dress."
"Totally random happenstance," said Jenni, wishing she'd gone with fewer sequins.
"Hey, I'm starting to feel a little sidelined here," said Jack.
Jenni made what she hoped came off as an apologetic grimace and not obvious guilt to both her date and her boss.
Suzine's skepticism was etched on her face like a stone carving. "Riiight. Captain Harkness, why don't you come along with me? I think there's an immediate release form with your name on it."
She made a curt gesture. Jenni let go of Jack's arm, and he, having the sense not to piss off someone who could get away with wearing those heels with that skirt, shrugged and went along.
"Nurse Robinson, I'll see you in the Kudzu's office in fifteen minutes," said the Head Nurse before turning away.
Jack looked over his shoulder, raised a hand with the thumb and pinky spread apart, and mouthed "Call me!"
Jenni waved. Once they'd rounded the corner, she slumped off to Section C and her impending doom.
About twenty minutes later, she stood in front of the Kudzu Vine with Suzine glaring at her from the side.
And you say this was a case of mistaken identity? said the Flower.
"Yes, Ma'am."
Why did you not say so and excuse yourself in the first place?
"Embarrassment and stupidity, Ma'am."
I see. And why did you not simply tell Nurse Suzine the truth right away?
"Panic, Ma'am."
The Kudzu rustled its many leaves, giving the impression of a disappointed sigh. I thought you were more mature than that, Nurse Robinson.
Suzine gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like "Yeah right."
Jenni pressed her lips together, but held her tongue.
Dear oh dear. What are we to do with you? Clearly No-Drool Videos will not be an effective remedy. Unless... If it were possible for a vine to smirk, the Kudzu was doing it. Perhaps, with your clear expertise in this area, you might be able to suggest some... improvements to the regimen?
Jenni winced. Ellipsis improvements. Dear oh dear indeed. "You want me to come up with something so awful it will put off the likes of myself? That... seems pretty cruel. To everyone else."
Oh, don't think of it like that. Consider it a public service. A small contribution on your behalf for the sake of a PPC free of wanton lusting. We will have to mount a plaque on the wall to honor your dedication. Won't that be nice?
Jenni went *wibble*.
Then that settles it. You're dismissed. I know you'll want to get to work right away.
"I hope it was worth it," said Suzine, who at least seemed somewhat taken aback herself.
Jenni muttered something incoherent and went to write her last will and testament.
******** Case of mistaken identity, huh? ;) — Agent Jacques Bonnefoy, Fri Jan 18 12:19pm
Sounds like a fun time all around, apart from the...consequences. What do you say we go for that coffee after all, and you tell me all about it? I'm a very good distraction from things like No-Drool Videos ;)
-J
-J
********* Unh. Yes, please. x.x — Jenni Robinson, Fri Jan 18 12:34pm
At least this way my last memory before some poor agent justifiably murders me will be a good one!
~Also J
~Also J
********** It's a date! — Agent Jacques Bonnefoy, Fri Jan 18 1:04pm
Maybe you'd better swing by here, though--RC 5242. Just in case. I'd like to think most of FicPsych knows me well enough by now to recognize me, but given what just happened, it seems a better idea not to tempt fate...
-J
-J
And then the deep, serious retconning began. All in all, this wasn't so bad. ^_^
~Jenni
Entry tags:
Dear Author
Dear Author:
This alternate universe nonsense has to stop. Sure, I can handle it, but that doesn't mean I want to be carrying this kind of baggage around with me. And really, if it were just one thing or the other it wouldn't be so bad, but the two extremes of ultimate loneliness and ultimate intimacy are pretty difficult to assimilate at the same time. Why can't you spend this kind of effort on my actual daily life in the main timeline? Yes, okay, there's that thing at Rudi's, and that's nice, but theoretically I have a day job. It would be nice to have some actual information about that to work with, Author. Or, failing that, what about some nice fluff with my kid? People love that stuff, or at least they did once. Or—and I know this is complicated, but lemme just put it out there—what about the romantic relationship I'm actually in? That would be nice to spend some more time on.
You could at least devote some of your time to someone else for a while. I know you have other irons in the fire. You need to take them out of the fire and get to work with the hammer and tongs already.
Also, why do you only remember this journal exists when there's meta nonsense going down? Seriously.
Sincerely,
~Jenni
P.S. The Sue-tracking anklet is just mean.
This alternate universe nonsense has to stop. Sure, I can handle it, but that doesn't mean I want to be carrying this kind of baggage around with me. And really, if it were just one thing or the other it wouldn't be so bad, but the two extremes of ultimate loneliness and ultimate intimacy are pretty difficult to assimilate at the same time. Why can't you spend this kind of effort on my actual daily life in the main timeline? Yes, okay, there's that thing at Rudi's, and that's nice, but theoretically I have a day job. It would be nice to have some actual information about that to work with, Author. Or, failing that, what about some nice fluff with my kid? People love that stuff, or at least they did once. Or—and I know this is complicated, but lemme just put it out there—what about the romantic relationship I'm actually in? That would be nice to spend some more time on.
You could at least devote some of your time to someone else for a while. I know you have other irons in the fire. You need to take them out of the fire and get to work with the hammer and tongs already.
Also, why do you only remember this journal exists when there's meta nonsense going down? Seriously.
Sincerely,
~Jenni
P.S. The Sue-tracking anklet is just mean.
Entry tags:
Missing Su
(Is this thing on Private? I think it is...)
Today, out of the blue, Henry asked me where Su is. "Mommy, where's Agent Su?" I'm shocked that Henry even remembers meeting him—what was it, all of twice? was there even a second time?—let alone wonders about his whereabouts. Note to self: never, ever assume your young child will forget anything, especially if it's awkward.
"He's working, Henry. On a mission."
"Why is it so long?"
That's a good question. I've been wondering about it myself, but Mithiriel assured me she hasn't heard anything to suggest a serious problem. These things just happen, what with the time differences on missions. Try explaining that to a three-year-old, though.
"Well, baby, sometimes missions just take a long time, and the agents can't come home until they're all done."
"Want it all done now!"
This was the start of a crying fit that went on for quite a while, until he finally fell asleep in my lap. Poor little guy. I don't know where this came from, or if it really has anything to do with Su being gone so long. He's never gotten worked up like this over Ilraen, and those two are best buds.
I just hope he didn't pick it up from me. I don't tell my three-year-old that knowing about time distortions doesn't stop me from thinking about all the terrible things that might have happened, especially with Su being Su, but kids are so perceptive. I'm not what you'd call a closed book, either, even when I'm trying.
I don't know. Even if he did get something from me, why did it come up tonight? Nothing's different about tonight. I'm not more or less anxious than I was yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that....
Well, enough of that. Here's something better I can think about: when Su DOES get back, because he WILL, do I kiss him for being alive, or kill him for making my kid cry? Decisions, decisions.
Today, out of the blue, Henry asked me where Su is. "Mommy, where's Agent Su?" I'm shocked that Henry even remembers meeting him—what was it, all of twice? was there even a second time?—let alone wonders about his whereabouts. Note to self: never, ever assume your young child will forget anything, especially if it's awkward.
"He's working, Henry. On a mission."
"Why is it so long?"
That's a good question. I've been wondering about it myself, but Mithiriel assured me she hasn't heard anything to suggest a serious problem. These things just happen, what with the time differences on missions. Try explaining that to a three-year-old, though.
"Well, baby, sometimes missions just take a long time, and the agents can't come home until they're all done."
"Want it all done now!"
This was the start of a crying fit that went on for quite a while, until he finally fell asleep in my lap. Poor little guy. I don't know where this came from, or if it really has anything to do with Su being gone so long. He's never gotten worked up like this over Ilraen, and those two are best buds.
I just hope he didn't pick it up from me. I don't tell my three-year-old that knowing about time distortions doesn't stop me from thinking about all the terrible things that might have happened, especially with Su being Su, but kids are so perceptive. I'm not what you'd call a closed book, either, even when I'm trying.
I don't know. Even if he did get something from me, why did it come up tonight? Nothing's different about tonight. I'm not more or less anxious than I was yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that....
Well, enough of that. Here's something better I can think about: when Su DOES get back, because he WILL, do I kiss him for being alive, or kill him for making my kid cry? Decisions, decisions.
Entry tags:
AHAIRQL
The first game of the second All-HQ Australian Indoor-Rules Quiddich League season is coming up soon.
A lot of my friends are involved. Not quite everyone I know, but a lot. This is distressing. Time to get prepared.
• Tea [ √ ]
• Ice packs [ √ ]
• Bandages [ √ ]
• Compresses [ √ ]
• Painkillers [ √ ]
• Antiseptic [ √ ]
• Splints [ √ ]
• Suture kit [ √ ]
• Sympathy [ ]
• Piece of my mind [ √ ]
That should do it.
A lot of my friends are involved. Not quite everyone I know, but a lot. This is distressing. Time to get prepared.
• Tea [ √ ]
• Ice packs [ √ ]
• Bandages [ √ ]
• Compresses [ √ ]
• Painkillers [ √ ]
• Antiseptic [ √ ]
• Splints [ √ ]
• Suture kit [ √ ]
• Sympathy [ ]
• Piece of my mind [ √ ]
That should do it.
Meta
I confess, I hate it when people don't listen to me. If certain parties had only considered what I had to say last December...
I know, I know, nobody wants to hear the meta stuff, but let me have this one.
Dear everyone:
Please stop thinking of reality as a binary system. It is not a dichotomy of "real" and "not real." There are degrees of reality. There are conditions of reality. It's a fine broad spectrum in Technicolor. If you're still seeing it in black-and-white, please update your system.
Look, people can get hurt over this stuff. You try telling a fanfic character he's less real than you are, and someone is going to walk away from the exchange not feeling so hot. Possibly you, if he's the violent type, but I digress. We live in a multiverse where writing has a god-like power of creation. If that guy over there can be born of writing, who's to say you and I can't also have similar origins?
This does not mean we are not real.
Being real does not mean we are not fictional.
Let's take a look at the canons for a second. Everybody here knows some canon universes come from books, or games, or TV shows, right? Everybody here's also been to at least one in the flesh, right? There you go: real and fictional, both at once. It just depends on where you're standing.
Ontology is not a dichotomy, folks. These conditions are not mutually exclusive. Please, please stop treating them as such. People can and do get hurt.
Love,
Someone Who Knows
I know, I know, nobody wants to hear the meta stuff, but let me have this one.
Dear everyone:
Please stop thinking of reality as a binary system. It is not a dichotomy of "real" and "not real." There are degrees of reality. There are conditions of reality. It's a fine broad spectrum in Technicolor. If you're still seeing it in black-and-white, please update your system.
Look, people can get hurt over this stuff. You try telling a fanfic character he's less real than you are, and someone is going to walk away from the exchange not feeling so hot. Possibly you, if he's the violent type, but I digress. We live in a multiverse where writing has a god-like power of creation. If that guy over there can be born of writing, who's to say you and I can't also have similar origins?
This does not mean we are not real.
Being real does not mean we are not fictional.
Let's take a look at the canons for a second. Everybody here knows some canon universes come from books, or games, or TV shows, right? Everybody here's also been to at least one in the flesh, right? There you go: real and fictional, both at once. It just depends on where you're standing.
Ontology is not a dichotomy, folks. These conditions are not mutually exclusive. Please, please stop treating them as such. People can and do get hurt.
Love,
Someone Who Knows
Kittens
Okay, Ilraen, you win. I don't promise anything insightful, interesting, or even entertaining, but you asked for it, so you got it. :P
Today in FicPsych, we talked about therapy kittens, and cats by logical extension. Most of us are in favor of the idea, though Elms seems to think they're cute, fluffy evil incarnate, and Suzine wants nothing to do with the idea at all—she's allergic. Two seems to be the ideal number. They won't be lonely, and we'll be able to manage caring for them easily enough. Any more might start to be a challenge, since they'd need more of everything.
I like the idea, personally. It's nice to have pets around, and none of us has room in our own quarters. It might even prove better for us than for our patients. I'd like to give Henry the experience of having pets. He's three now, plenty old enough to play nice with a kitty.
. . . I can't believe he's three.
Anyway, still waiting for the inevitable backlash from the Singing Telegram incident. Worth it, though. So worth it. I tease because I care. <3
Today in FicPsych, we talked about therapy kittens, and cats by logical extension. Most of us are in favor of the idea, though Elms seems to think they're cute, fluffy evil incarnate, and Suzine wants nothing to do with the idea at all—she's allergic. Two seems to be the ideal number. They won't be lonely, and we'll be able to manage caring for them easily enough. Any more might start to be a challenge, since they'd need more of everything.
I like the idea, personally. It's nice to have pets around, and none of us has room in our own quarters. It might even prove better for us than for our patients. I'd like to give Henry the experience of having pets. He's three now, plenty old enough to play nice with a kitty.
. . . I can't believe he's three.
Anyway, still waiting for the inevitable backlash from the Singing Telegram incident. Worth it, though. So worth it. I tease because I care. <3