Based vaguely on the Charles Dickens story "A Christmas Carol," A Fanfiction Carol revolves around an anime fan named Marcia Laverne Whitaker. Under the penname M.L. Writer, she writes terrible fanfiction ... and she does so prolifically. One night, a set of spirits (or ghosts, if you wish) come and take her to the worst of her crimes in an effort to change this threat to the fanfiction world.

Not precisely a crossover in the direct sense of characters from two different series meeting each other, but more in the sense that Marcia travels through many universes in a single November night. You'll find major references to Trigun, DBZ, and Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, and minor references from other stuff. ^_^


Element One. M.L. Writer

In her own opinion, the pencil was not just mightier than the sword. It was more potent than the atomic bomb, more colossal than a nuclear blast, more massive than a volcano on crack.

Or at least ... it would have been, had she the skills, the brains, and the concepts to match up with her endless, unbeatable idealism and over-the-top faith in her own abilities. Vision was not hers to possess in this lifetime, nor was the way of words. Notions such as "rough drafts," "grammar," and "spell checking" to her seemed archaic; critiques were outmoded, outdated, and useless.

Perhaps if she had some more honest friends, it would have been different, and the world would have been spared her beastly brutality with the English language. But she had no friends, and her stories were inevitably so revolting in their stupidity, no one dared make a comment or tell her the truth. They usually didn't even finish reading them, and Marcia Laverne Whitaker was none the wiser. She wrote, and wrote, and wrote, endless cycles of worrying over plot points and puns (the meaning of both was always missed by everyone but herself) ... sometimes Marcia went so far as to deny herself food and drink, all for her "art." Her "art," her "craft." Sometimes she had dreams where she was the sole possessor of the piece of fanfiction that would revolutionize the world. There would be thousands of shrines to M.L. Writer (her penname) on the web, and the mailing lists she ignorantly plagued would worship her daily.

She was passionate, true. But careless.

It was a November night, three days after the birthday party that no one but an old drooling grandaunt had come to. Inspired by the gray determined depression that this gaunt relative she couldn't remember the name of exuded, Marcia again stopped eating. The moment her birthday carrot cake touched her fleshy lips, she could take no more of the reminder that she existed on a planet that cared not a whit for her. So, these three suns later, her feeble mind was holding out against her body's desire for sustencence. An idea had not come yet. She felt convinced that an idea could never come as long as she took in food of any earthly origin.

She had never gone this long without food before. Always ideas had frolicked in her mind, all she had to do was pick one to take home with her and continue on her merry way. Marcia scratched her scalp through her brown hair, thinking more of her stomach than her keyboard. She felt woozy indeed as she wove her way down the street, towards the home that no one but the lights on electric timers were in.