FIC progress: Substitute

[promethia_tenk]

So, this total crack AU fic that I started (part one here), in which Amy wakes up and discovers Eleven and River are her parents (somehow) . . . I'm thinking it's gonna become something quite big and complicated.  Thing is, I love getting feedback and questions as I write (I've already gotten ideas from some of the comments on the first part--thanks, guys!), but I also want to be able to go back, change things and rearrange things as I go along.  So I don't think the usual LJ practice of posting consecutive sections until the whole thing is finished is going to work out here.  I am going, therefore, to attempt a probably foolish experiment, in which I put up the bits that I've worked on.  They may get changed later.  They may not end up in this order.  I may trash them altogether.  We'll see.

If you're willing to put up with that kind of crazy, I'd very much appreciate thoughts, questions, britpicks, etc.

ETA: many thanks to stick_poker  for a britpick.



Amy came home, later than she’d expected, to find her parents still awake, curled up together on the sofa watching telly.
“Hey, I’m home.  You guys weren’t waiting up for me, were you?”

“Hi, honey.  James Bond marathon,” replied her mother, no further explanation being necessary.  “How late is it anyway?”  And she grabbed her husband’s wrist to check the time.  “Two a.m., good lord.  Whoever programs these things owes me for a lot of lost sleep.”
“Now, be fair: you got a nap in during Tomorrow Never Dies.”

“That’s true--thank goodness.  What on earth would we do if these things were actually good?”
“You two?” cut in Amy, laughing.  “You’d never watch them.”  She picked up a bottle of her mother’s nail polish from the coffee table to eye up the color: deep burgundy.  “You just like being smarter than him.”
"Heeyy . . . ."  Her father shook a warning finger at her: “I resemble that remark--wait, wait . . . oncoming stupidity!”  His face lit up.  “Baddies approaching from all sides, cornered, where do you hide the command key?”
Amy sat down quickly, still clutching the bottle of polish.  “Vase on the mantlepiece?”
“Too obvious.  Swallow it?”
“Never get it back in time.  Also, ouch.  Maybe just keep it and dive out of the window?”
“Four stories up?”
“Maybe not then.  Lock it in the safe?”
“You’d never get back in there . . .”
“Palm it,” Amy offered, decisively.  “When the assistant walks in, slip it into her coat pocket.  Last place anybody’ll look, she’ll walk it right into the operations center for you, no problem, and then you can steal it back when you need it.”
Her parents turned to face her, silent.  Her mother looked like the cat who ate the canary.  Then her dad gave a big, satisfied laugh: “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she rejoined.  “Nice to feel wanted.”  And her father gave her an aww, shucks wave as she smiled to herself and began painting her toenails.
“Ok, now this I’ll never understand . . .” his attention was back on the screen, “Why doesn’t he just go grab the plans off the guard?  The guard’s unconscious in a deserted hallway!”
“Because that hasn’t happened yet, sweetie.  It’s not going to happen for twenty minutes.”
“Oh, right.  I always get that confused . . . .  Woah!  What a leap!”
Amy frowned down at her big toe, now shiny red.  “They don’t go into space in this one, do they?”
“Space?  No, why?”  Her mother didn’t bother looking around.
“Dunno.  I’m just remembering a woman in a black dress . . . flying through space.”
Her father let his head fall back on the cushions and squinted, searchingly, at the ceiling, but he said nothing.
“Doesn’t matter,” Amy decided.  “Must be thinking of something else.”  And she returned to her toenails, trying idly to remember the woman’s face.

------------------------------------------

“Mum . . .” Amy furrowed her brow, wondering what would come out of her mouth.  She knew, however, that there was something she needed to ask.  Her mother looked up expectantly from her pile of marking.  “Do you ever get the feeling that you don’t belong here?”
Her mother seemed far less surprised by this question than she should have.  “Of course, honey, all the time.”
“You . . . wait, what?”  Amy pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down heavily.
“We none of us belong here.  Little, sleepy Leadworth?  I know I don’t belong here.  I suspect you don’t either, and as for your father, well . . . .”
Amy struggled with this unexpected dose of perspective.  Did parents admit these kinds of things?  Even her parents, who were, granted, a bit weird in most respects.  “So . . .” Amy blinked several times, “what are we doing here then?”
“Well, the easy answer is that this is the only place that would take us.  Do you have any idea how hard it is for two academics to find work in the same spot?  Bloody miracle, that was.  Well, there was some blackmail involved too, but shhhh, Dad doesn’t know about that bit.”  She winked conspiratorially.
Amy chuckled and shook her head.  “You said that’s the easy answer.  What’s the difficult one?”
Her mum pursed her lips and let out a long, slow breath: “As much as I may thrill to the idea of a life of international intrigue, it’s not really any sort of way to raise a daughter, now is it?”
Amy didn’t know how to respond to that.  “Oh . . .”
“Now, don’t look like that, honey; I’d do the whole thing over again in a heartbeat if I had to, but I’m not going to delude myself either that this place is some life’s dream of mine--that’s when you start pouring gin on your corn flakes in the mornings.  No, sooner or later, Amy, you’re going to decide you’ve got better places to be, or maybe I’ll finally get bored enough to sell the house, or your father might blow up something we can’t pay for or replace, and we’ll all have to flee the country.”  She paused to study her daughter’s response.  “And in the meantime, I’ve got you both here with me still, and a job that’ll pay me to fly around the world and play in the dirt, and I’m rather attached to that begonia on top of the microwave.”
This was good enough sense that Amy nearly felt relieved.  She weighed her next words carefully.  “I don’t really want to be a kissogram forever.”
“I know, dear.”

----------------------------

The little blue Mini arrived at the curb slightly sideways, in a cloud of shrieks and tire smoke.  A brief scuffle immediately ensued in the front seat, resulting in the driver’s ejection from the car.  He looked down at the pavement, as if slightly confused as to how he’d ended up there, but recovered quickly enough when he spotted Amy standing by the hospital doors with Rory and another young nurse.
“Amy!  Let’s go!”  Her father waved them over enthusiastically.
Amy signaled that she needed a minute.  “D'you want a lift?” she asked the other nurse.
The other nurse leaned around her and squinted at the car.  “You sure?  Are we all gonna fit?”
Amy glanced behind her.  Her father was now checking his watch and continuing to gesture.  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, we’re coming!” she yelled, and more quietly, to reassure the doubter, “it’s bigger on the inside.  Come on.”  She dragged them towards the car.  “Have you got somewhere to be, Dad?” she asked, by way of greeting.
“I don’t know.  I must have, but I can’t quite . . . Rory!  Good to see you!  Who’s your friend?”
“Hi, Doctor Pond,” Rory replied with his usual diffidence, and leaning down to wave to the new driver: “Doctor Song.  This is Brian.  He’s . . . another nurse here.  Amy offered him a lift.”
“Did she now?  Excellent!”  He stuck out a hand to Brian and patted him warmly on the shoulder.  “The pleasure’s ours.  Get in!  Get in!  Your mother wanted to drive . . . .”  And he circled around to the passenger door, still talking.
The three younger riders squished into the back seat, quite uncomfortably since Amy had lied about the size of the interior . . . .


And yet more bits here.

Comments

[elisi]

I am going, therefore, to attempt a probably foolish experiment, in which I put up the bits that I've worked on. They may get changed later. They may not end up in this order. I may trash them altogether. We'll see.
I absolutely love this idea! I've nothing constructive to add, I'm afraid, since I'm half asleep, but I say go for it - it'll be writing in the way that the Doctor experiences time, or something. *g*

[toastweasel.livejournal.com]

This is making me glee everywhere. I love this, this is great.
I love how you write the Doctor and River. It is win, I swear!

Can't wait for the next installment!

[adribetty394.livejournal.com]

I love this I LOOOOVEEE IT, if you want to bounce ideas or rant about how hilarious everyone is being or even tell me your master plan (mwaahahahaha) I'm here :)

[bendingwind.livejournal.com]

Mostly, just <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 over this.

I love everything about this, but I especially enjoy how you slip in bits that remind us that this isn't quite right, they're meant to be somewhere else as something else. It's not subtle, but it fits perfectly within the flow of the story and seems absolutely natural, and it's hard to manage that (at least for me). This is made of win!

I am going, therefore, to attempt a probably foolish experiment, in which I put up the bits that I've worked on. They may get changed later. They may not end up in this order. I may trash them altogether. We'll see.

Also: ^great idea! I approve, though I may be biased because I can hardly wait for more. XD

[beerbad.livejournal.com]

Heheee... I chuckled at "it's bigger on the inside". :)

Not that it will be useful, but here is my post in which I first squeed all over this plot bunny! I'm still bizarrely attached to the idea of them *actually* being her parents, but I must admit that your way fits much more nicely into canon! And frankly I never thought anyone would touch this with a ten-foot pole so you're all good in my book, fic format be damned. ;)

As long as you write it, I WILL READ IT. :D

[stick-poker.livejournal.com]

Non-consecutive and future-variable writing is entirely appropriate for a story of this sort with these characters, isn't it? I will be watching with added bouncing-up-and-down-in-glee.

[stick-poker.livejournal.com]

Now, because I like this so much, and because the feel is so right in much of it, I want to Brit-pick it to make it, especially these bits that are in a little English village, as little English village as possible. I do this in a separate comment so you can ignore it / clear it away later / whatever you wish.

Vase on the mantle; I think we generally call it a mantelpiece, not a mantle on its own. Vase makes me go a bit arg with an Americanism next to it, in fact, because then I can hear it being rhymed with 'base' not 'cars', but changing mantle may help this.

Brits would leave the 'of' in and say 'dive out of the window'.

I'm in two minds about 'aww, shucks' because it's not like we never say it but it's a consciously American thing to say. But sometimes that's what you want to say, like using 'je ne sais quoi' to suggest a stylishly French type of mysterious.

Grading; that's marking here.

Tires... see, I can look past center / centre or the like, but tire is harder because tire means something else too and therefore has to be decoded, which we don't normally have to do because tyres are only the ones on the car.

A ride would be a lift here. 'D'you want a lift?' And, in that and the rest of this conversation, dropping all the initial words out makes it sound more American. So:
'D'you want a lift?'
'You sure? Are we all gonna fit?'
'Have you got somewhere to be, Dad?'
...sounds more British. Odd, really.

Um, I think curb suffers from the same problem as tire and should be kerb.

Is it an old Mini, a classic Mini, like Rory's in TEH? I hope it is. In which case, in case you're not sure, since it's undefined here, and you happen to write them getting out of it again, there never was a four-door classic Mini and someone has to get out of the front to let people out of the back. You *can* fit three tall (albeit preferably not wide) people in the back, classic Minis are deceptively roomy in the absence of, you know, airbags, crumple zones, any of that tedious stuff, but the seats are really low and the whole car except River will be a parade of knees. *grins*

[owlboy]

The Doctor is an academic at a university? <3 <3 <3 (fond memories of Dick Solomon and 3rd Rock)

and River/the Doctor being domestic makes me all kinds of happy too, for some reason.

more pls <3

[someplacetobe.livejournal.com]

I liked how, interwoven with the sense of normalcy, was the feeling that something was not quite right. That's quite me quite intrigued and I like the small clues of that something not right. It'll be interesting to see how it resolves itself.