Fandom: Detective Conan
Characters: All of them (General series)
Prompt: #100—writer’s choice
Word Count: 1956 words
Author's Notes: I do not own Detective Conan. It all belongs to Gosho Aoyama. I simply borrow the characters, tie them up, and dance them around like life-sized puppets. I do wish they’d stop complaining.
Summary: How did these people get into my bedroom?
“Hey—we need to talk. Right now.”
I looked up from my “work” and stared, startled, at the young man standing in front of me. As if it wasn’t surprising enough that Kudo Shinichi, the famous high school detective from Tokyo, was standing in my room, there was a miniature version of him standing by his legs. I knew this child to be one Edogawa Conan. It was just a bit unnerving to see them both in the same place at the same time.
Even more disconcerting was the Look they were giving me. If glares were arrows, I would have been a pincushion in two seconds flat. Fortunately for me, looks aren’t arrows, so I was safe. For the moment, at least. No telling how long it would stay that way.
After all, that kick of his is dynamite.
“Can this wait?” I asked with a gesture towards my computer. “I’m plunnie-ing.”
“No. No, it really can’t,” Conan shook his head slowly. “Because that’s the issue we’re here about.”
“But I’m busy!”
“Okay, fine,” Ran said, folding her arms. She had just appeared behind them, I swear she hadn’t been there there a minute ago! I was suddenly nervous—she was probably capable of snapping me clean in half. But she seemed pretty calm at the moment…
Where the hell were these people coming from, anyway?
“…okay, what did you want to talk about?” I asked, turning around to face them. Wow, there were quite a few people in my room right now. And…Heiji was crawling out of my TV screen. Well, that explained a lot. Sort of. Kind of. Maybe. Not really. What the hell.
“We have an issue,” Kazuha explained.
“Fanfics,” Heiji interjected, straightening and glaring. “These plunnies you’re so hopelessly proud of. You guys are insane, and we’re all sick and tired of it.”
“Err…what?” I stared. “What did I do?”
Kaito held up a small stack of papers. “Here’s our list of complaints.”
“Oh brother…” I sighed. “I’m the writer. It’s my choice what goes into my stories.”
“Doesn’t mean we have to like it, agree with it, or tolerate it,” Conan pointed out with a wag of his finger that reminded me for all the world of Miles Edgeworth from the Ace Attorney games. And I had to bite back a bit of a snigger at the mental image of Shinichi wearing a cravat.
“Honestly, do you guys know how lucky you really are?” I pointed out, hoping that Kazuha would stop clencing her fists soon. I liked my nose where it was. “You have one of the nicest fandoms that I know of! There are a lot of really cool people writing about you!”
“How about the Ai versus Ran debate?” a little girl with blonde hair deadpanned, folding her arms. God, she was creeping me out. Behind her, Agasa just looked uncomfortable with the whole thing.
“…okay, there are bound to be shipping conflicts in any fandom, but most of us can agree to disagree,” I said, hoping to God that no one would strangle me in my sleep for this. “But seriously, why do you want to hurt us? It could be a hell of a lot worse! We love you!” Meanwhile, I was thinking about things. Like how if I ducked around the old doctor and jumped over the Shounen Tantei, I could probably make it to the door before Hattori could stop me…that was Escape Plan Alpha…
“So…you took away my memory and everyone else’s memories of me,” Kaito raised an eyebrow, turning a deck of cards over and over in his hands, “because you apparently love me? You’ve also killed me—repeatedly, I might add. You’ve killed Aoko, you’ve killed both of us off in a couple of fics, and you’ve had Aoko kill me—what the hell was up with that, anyway?”
“That’s what I’d like to know!” the girl in question huffed.
“It was a parody!” I protested. They didn’t look convinced.
“How about me?” Heiji glared at me. “You shot me in the head and dumped me in a river.”
“You didn’t actually get carried away by the river,” I pointed out.
Now it was Conan and Shinichi’s turn. “You let Gin shoot me in the head!” Shinichi yelled.
“Twice!” Conan added.
“…so does everyone else here know about that 30 Kisses lemon—MMPH?” I started to ask, but they both leapt forward (as did Ran, interestingly enough) and clapped a total of six hands over my mouth. Well, that answered that question. It seemed that they didn’t want anyone else to know about that little…ah, indiscretion.
Ran let go first and laid out her own accusation against me. “Why did you have to kill me off? What have I ever done to you?” She was glaring, her arms folded across her chest. Ack, this was not good.
“It was for drama! I swear!” I waved it off. “And besides, Shinichi was there with you.”
“That doesn’t change the whole ‘dead’ thing,” she grumbled.
“Is there anyone here that you haven’t killed off yet?” Heiji demanded.
I glanced around the room, scanning through all of the stories I’d written about these crazy folks, and was finally able to come up with an answer. “I think I let Akai live…” There was an audible snort from the other side of the room. “And Kogoro.” A drunken laugh. This just kept getting better and better.
Ah, Kazuha’s turn now. “How about that whole pregnancy thing? You just tossed me out in front of a car, and my excuse was ‘They won’t hit me because I’m pregnant.’ What the HELL?”
“…umm, that’s actually based on a true story,” I said, shoving my hair out of my face again. “My mom did that when she was pregnant with me, and that was her exact reasoning. She told me so. Hormones make people do funny things!” Again with the not looking convinced thing…
“Why am I even here?” Hakuba asked. “You’ve barely written anything about me—but I must say that the few you have written are highly offensive to me. I would never think such things about Kuroba!”
Kaito snorted in agreement. “And what about me and Kudo? What the hell was that?” He ran a hand through his shock of dark hair. “You’ve paired me with Aoko, Hakuba, and Kudo, to varying degrees of what the hell. Why do I have to be the fandom bicycle? I don’t work that way!”
I coughed (and strangely enough, it came out sounding an awful lot like I said ‘liar’ but that was merely a coincidence, I swear) and nonchalantly minimized the window I was typing in. If he wasn’t quite ready to kill me, then it wasn’t worth it to have him see the fic in progress—involving Hakuba, Kaito, the principal’s office, and a large bottle of pheremones. That would be bad.
“Didn’t you keep prodding Jeva on that vampire fic?” Kaito asked.
“Why is everyone blaming me for that?” I threw my hands in the air. “It’s just as much Fyliwion’s fault as it is mine! Blame her too!” I decided not to mention that I was seriously looking forward to the future of that story, which I secretly hoped included something sexy.
Okay, maybe I’m lying about the secretly part.
They seemed to be talking amongst themselves now, most likely deciding my fate. Still, I was gradually feeling more confident that I would, in fact, live to see the sunrise the next morning and tell my family I love them one last time. And possibly tease my sister again.
I just had to get these wackos out of my room.
“Okay?” I said. “So can you guys please go away?”
There seemed to be a conference amongst everyone, and a chorus of nods. I sighed in relief.
“Okay, next we need to have a word with this ‘Icka’ person,” Kaito said as he glanced down at what appeared to be a list in his hand. Judging by the size of the paper, it was a fairly long list. I couldn’t help but wonder how many of the Many Cases One Truth LJ authors were on there—those folks tend to have lots and lots of fun. “She’s the one who started that yaoi community on LJ.” A round of grumbling met this declaration, most of it male.
“I really don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Kazuha said with a very toothy grin. “It’s just yaoi.”
Heiji eyed his best friend warily. “You. Are. A. Pervert.”
Still mumbling, the small group of animated characters disappeared back into my television screen (apparently heading for another meeting with one of The Fandom Greats), I turned my eyes back to my computer. A while back, I decided to name my computer Ari—it stands for Abort, Retry, Influence with large hammer. The word processor was still running there, glaring white on the screen, save for the lines of black text running in even rows across the digital page.
With a sigh, I shoved my hair out of my face once more. “I guess that could have been worse…”
As if on cue, two more figures appeared in my bedroom, crawling out of the television screen. Both of them were men, in black outfits. One of them had very long, very blonde hair—if my guess was correct, it was probably Evil. The other one was more of a gorilla, and I think he was glaring at me—hard to tell with those sunglasses on. In the middle of the night. Indoors. It shouldn’t surprise anyone that this all made me just a teensy bit nervous.
What surprised me, though, was the fact that instead of waving a handgun in my face…Blondie shoved a bouquet of flowers into my hands. “This is because you’re actually writing about me for that 30 Evil Deeds challenge,” he growled. “I give credit where it’s due. But you tell anyone we were here, and it’s curtains, ya understand?”
I nodded. Yes—understand, I most certainly did. Tell anyone, I wouldn’t. Talk like Yoda, I must.
“Uhh, thank you,” I said with my best smile. “You can leave now. I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”
Surprisingly, he did without any further argument. He just gave me a Look (what’s with these people and these Looks they keep giving me?!) and went back into the TV, taking his gorilla with him.
I let out a sigh of relief—thank God they were gone. Then I looked down at the bouquet I’d been given. I do enjoy gardening, a trait and hobby I share with my mother. So I was sure I could find some way to use that and rationalize the appearance of this…er, lovely floral arrangement.
I’m sure every girl gets a bouquet of poison ivy and Venus fly traps at some point in her life, right?
Right. Of course.
My bangs were hanging in my face again—I guess that beautician and I had majorly different definitions of ‘a trim.’ No matter, though—I was alive and well and I hadn’t been beaten or killed by any animated characters thus far. Setting the flowers aside (and ignoring the fact that they were trying to bite me), I turned back to my computer. Okay, back to the fic!
I think I’ll make this all sweet and fluffy and happy…and then, to borrow a phrase from Mercedes Lackey, I’ll drop a mountain on them. Yeah, that’ll work. That’ll show ‘em.
“Excuse me, but why don’t you ever write about me?” a woman’s voice spoke from the TV.
My forehead met my desk with a loud thunk. “Vermouth, go the hell away.”
PS. Someone actually told me that they were expecting something huge and sweeping and romantic for a conclusion. And truth be told, I was thinking that too. But then I got to this point, where it was time to write this, and…there was nothing. I had absolutely nothing left. I was out of ideas, and even if I’d had an idea, I don’t think there was anything I could have come up with that would have been epic enough to place as the last fic for this challenge.
So…I did this instead. Taking the theme of writer’s choice fairly literally, and posting an ending story that I’m sure will get me killed and/or lynched. But you know what? I’m happy with it. Like I said, I had no ideas left, not for anything big or flashy. And as far as I’m concerned, finishing this challenge is epic enough on its own for me.
With this, we come to the end of a two-year road. And yes, it has been two years to the day for this challenge. It began on Lurker Day, and on Lurker Day it shall end. So thank you. Thank you so much to those who have been with me from the beginning, thank you to those who have left kind words and constructive comments throughout the course of this.
And so for the last time on fanfic100, I get to say this: thanks for reading, all! Much love!