Rating: G, because it has to pass the CCA
Fandom: Exiles, X-Factor, Seanan McGuire, Santa Clause
Synopsis: What happens when Jamie -- oh, just read it...
I hate Christmas.
Ok, hate may be too strong a word. But when you're being shunted from universe to universe and find you've gone from the middle of summer to Christmas Eve, it's hard to work up the holiday spirit. It's even harder under the present circumstances.
Start with the fact that I'm the only man on this Exiles team, which is just cruel irony given how I've managed to mishandle every relationship I've been in lately. Seanan blames that on the "writers". I don't know how seriously to take that, but then again -- well, Seanan "knows stuff".
Yes, sort of like Layla does, except Seanan didn't get a brainwave from the future. She says she's from a universe where our lives are just stories in comic books. Not like the licensed book that the Fantastic Four has, but a place where the "writers" just make up what we're going to do next. Which I suppose has interesting implications for free will, but I try not to think about that. Much.
Before she landed with us, Seanan didn't have any superpowers to speak of. (Other than, based on what she's said, the ability to somehow cram 36 hours of stuff into a 24 hour day.) Now, she's got some sort of death touch -- yes, like Layla in reverse. She blames that on the "writers" too. And I have to say it is inordinately helpful, because I've had problems reabsorbing my dupes lately. Jean thinks it's a psychological problem, tied to the disaster with Terry and the baby. I don't know. I just know that the multiverse doesn't need thousands of my dupes running around it. I cause enough problems by myself.
Blink says that the Tallus tells her that our mission here is to make sure that Christmas comes off without a hitch. Which is another one of those ironic things, because I suspect Christmas would have been just fine if we'd never showed up here.
For whatever reason, the Tallus dumped us here about six feet off the ground. So when we hit the snow with a thump, not only did I pop a dupe, but the guy on the roof was so startled that he slid right off, hit the ground, and vanished. All that was left was his red suit. And my idiot dupe decided that he needed to try on that big red coat.
Ow! Ow! Ow! Pop!
For the love of -- Sue, would you take it easy! You don't have to hit me that hard. Yes, this is my dupe's fault. No, it is not "Clobberin' Time".
(What Seanan has to say about the self-image of a Sue Storm who came out of the cosmic rays as the Thing is pretty much unprintable. As is what she has to say about Jean. She thinks that the "writers" put them on the team just to annoy her. She may be right.)
Anyway, I get the whole "Santa Clause" thing that turned my dupe into the new Santa Claus. What I don't get is why I've ended up with the white beard and the round belly too. Normally what happens to a dupe doesn't directly affect me, but I've not been around a lot of magic, so maybe that's the difference. And Seanan thinks that when we leave this universe -- as long as we leave one Santa dupe behind -- that I should go back to my normal level of stubble. And pants size. I hope she's right.
But right now, we need to get Santa's delivery schedule back on track. And that's going to take a lot of Santa Claus activity, so we need a lot of dupes. At least we've got the right team to handle it. Me to provide the dupes, Sue to bang on me and create them, Blink to deliver them to all of the houses on the planet, Jean to coordinate the whole thing telepathically, and Seanan to clean up afterwards.
I think that ought to be enough dupes. Yes, that's a very nice glowing red nose there. I'm sure it will help.
And which sadistic "writer" thought it was a good idea to put a female version of Morph on the team? Of course, with Morph it can be hard to tell.
Ok, let's go get this over with.
Ho, ho, ho.
Today's fandom was suggested by a wild dream earlier this week. I will likely never be doing this again, even assuming that cadhla lets me live...