Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Believe Half of What You See...	By : Scribe Category: -Misc TV Shows > Crossovers Views: 1521 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the television series that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
und und effects or actions* Thoughts and things to be emphasized are in italics //Indicates what the author wrote.//
Chapter Two

A Hint of Things to Come

Mary Ann bounced. You might not have been able to tell it on those itty bitty screens they used to have for televisions back when the show was first televised, but there was a fair amount of Mary Ann to bounce. "Oh, Ginger! The Professor was right! Scribe is on the island!"

Xander and Mulder had stopped wrestling. Both of their heads were bobbing a la those little dogs in the back windows of cars as they followed Mary Ann's... um... undulations. Xander whispered to Mulder, "So, in the classic Mary Ann versus Ginger debate, which do you pick?"

Mulder shook his head. "Fuck, I hafta choose?"

Xander nodded. "Scribe?"

"What?"

"You know. Ginger, or Mary Ann?"

"For the last time, Xander. I'm not bi."

"Yeah, whatever. Answer the question."

"Oh, hell. Um, all right." Thoughtful pause. "Mary Ann."

*Squeal!* Mary Ann bounced some more. "Oh, she likes me!"

Scribe backed up. "Don't get your cutoffs in a twist, it was all theoretical."

"Wow." Ginger's voice was breathy. "You talk just as fancy as the Professor."

Scribe looked at her a little more closely. "Are you related to someone called Buffy Summers."

"Why?"

"Certain similarities." She looked at the two men. "Xander, Fox. Pick your eyeballs back up, dust them off, and put them back where they belong. I need to find a way off this island."

Mary Ann sighed. "Good luck. We've been trying for..." Her forehead creased. "How many years is it now, Ginger?"

"Um... I don't know. I lost count somewhere back in the Reagan administration." She sighed. "I should have been back in civilization then. Think of what I could have done with an actor in the White House."

"Actually," Scribe commented, "Judging from your most obvious attributes, I think you might have done better in the Clinton administration. Anyway, I'm a special case." She put her hands on her hips and tossed her head back in the classic heroine pose. "I--am a fan fiction author. I thrive on solving impossible situations." She slumped into a more natural posture. "Logic don't always have a lot to do with it, but there's sort of a mutual agreement between writers and most of the readers: if you ain't ready to suspend disbelief, you need to get your butt off the net."

Mary Ann looked adoring, and Ginger breathed. "Wow. That is so profound."

Scribe looked at her again. "I'm almost positive you're related to Buffy Summers. She lives in California, after all."

Fox, scrambling up, said, "Nah. Too farfetched."

Xander countered. "Are you kidding? Thomas Magnum once turned out to be Blair Sandburg's mystery father. Ginger as Buffy's long lost aunt would be a snap."

A small furry animal with long ears and a cotton tail raced across the sand, making right for Scribe. She screamed and leaped at Mulder, who caught her in his arms, holding her up. "Get rid of it! Get rid of it!" she shrieked.

It didn't want to go, racing around Mulder, leaping high. Luckily we all know what long legs he has. Finally Xander managed to shoo it away, and Mary Ann chased it off into the trees. Scribe was trembling, her face hidden against Mulder's neck. "Is it gone?"

Mulder nuzzled her, giving her a comforting lick on the ear. "No."

"Quit lying to her, you creator hog," Xander growled. "Yeah, Scribe, it's gone."

"Thank heavens. Put me down, Fox." He squeezed her butt. "I said put me down. Now. Or I write you into a fic with the elder Spender."

Fox dropped her quickly, his face turning pale. "You woul do do that to me."

She patted his cheek. "No, I wouldn't. But it's a helluvan effective threat."

Ginger was gazing off toward where Mary Ann had disappeared into the palms. "Why were you so afraid of that cute little animal? What was it?"

Scribe shuddered. "That was one of the most vicious, aggressive plot bunnies I've ever seen, and I am not ready to take on a Ginger-as-long-lost-relative fiction any time soon."

Mary Ann came back out of the trees, humming brightly. "Okay, you don't have to worry about that rabbit anymore."

Scribe said nervously, "How can you be sure?"

"Let's just say that they aren't going to be able to bitc... gripe anymore about nothing but fish for supper." She smiled brightly. "I have a terrific recipe passed down from my upteen great-grandmother, Gabrielle."

Ginger gasped, tears welling up in eyeseyes. "That poor bunny! How could you?"

Mary Ann shrugged, "Ginger, I'm a farm girl. Practically any animal that doesn't bark or mew can legitimately be considered protein."

"And forget that 'poor bunny' hogwash," Scribe advised. "Those things are ruthless, and they multiply like... er... erm..." They looked at her expectantly. "Oh, hell, I can't say it. It's too obvious, even for me." She squared her shoulder. "Okay. Time to look for the exit," and marched resolutely into the trees, followed by Mulder, Xander, Ginger, and Mary Ann. Actually, it was Ginger, Mary Ann, Mulder, and Xander. They guys made sure they fell behind so they could have the best vantage point to view all three female backsides.

Scribe pushed her way through the lush tropical growth, muttering under her breath, "Cripes, why didn't I just stick to writing fan fiction about Smurfs and Winnie-the-Pooh? At least if those little boogers got horny, they'd be small enough for me to just bat 'em down. Hell, I could play handball with the Smurfs. I'm sure many people have actually dreamed about that..."

They came to a little cleariwherwhere there were several sturdy huts made out of palm fronds. Scribe shook her head. "Willing suspension of disbelief, big time. Not even Army Rangers and MIT graduates could construct shelters that solid from the stuff available on this island without access to Home Depot."

A very upper-crust, supercilious looking couple strolled out of one of the huts and stopped, looking at the little group that had just emerged from the trees. The man looked at the woman and said "Lovey, you didn't mention we were having guests for cocktails."

"Darling," she twittered, "I'm perfectly astonished!" She fingered a diamond necklace, then patted perfect hair with a kid gloved hand. "I'm such a frightful mess." She addressed the group. "Really, it's most gauche to drop in unannounced."

"Okay." Scribe shooed everyone back behind the screen of trees, bawled, "Company coming!" then led them out again. "How's that?"

The man tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Rude, brash, sarcastic, lots of attitude..." He brightened. "Lovey! It's Scribe."

She peered more closely. "Why, so it is! Wonderful! We'd be written up on the society page, having her as a guest, if we had a society page around this benid isd island."

Thurston patted her hand. "There, there, Lovey. I'll have the Professor whip up a printing press for you." He turned a bright smile on the group. "Please, join us in our humble abode for a bit of imbibing."

Xander's brow wrinkled. ?"
>

It's very hard to steer a boat with an irate feline wrapped around your head. Gary proved this concept by steering straight into the submarine that had surfaced right in front of them. They rammed it so hard that Scribe was catapulted over the front of the boat to spran thn the wet, slippery deck of the submarine. And since it was wet and slippery, she slid till she fetched up against a hatch. Sitting up she began to repeat her entire vocabulary of swear words, including the foreign ones that she wasn't entirely sure of.

Gary, holding a hissing cat by the scruff of the neck, was clambering off the ruined boat onto the submarine when the hatch beside her creaked open, and she drew back apprehensively. She almost wilted in relief when a dark haired man wearing glasses climbed out and stood, surveying the mess.

Well, thank goodness! Here's the one character I shouldn't have to worry about. I've had the most success in avoiding him, and he's usually too unselfconfident to try anything, anyway.

He helped her to her feet, and she said, "Well, Joxer, fancy meeting you here."

The man smiled at her charmingly, then grabbed her. "Oof! Hey!" She looked at him more closely, then said, "You're not Joxer! Who are you?"

"Lieutenant JG Tim O'Neill, ma'am." he said. "Communications officer. But," he started to drag her through the hatch. "Once I get you onboard, I may very well be put in charge of morale."

"Cr>"Cripes!"
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Believe Half of What You See...