ptahrrific | Fake News: The Next Five Times Stephen Switched Universes

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Fake News: The Next Five Times Stephen Switched Universes

Title: The Next Five Times Stephen Switched Universes
Fandom: The Daily Show/The Colbert Report, The Lord of the Rings, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya
Rating: G
Words: ~2500
Disclaimer: Two.

For the Report characters: They and their universe are property of Stephen Colbert, the other Report writers, and of course Viacom. Not mine. Sue me not, please.

And for the real people, the poem:
Please, make no mistake:
these people aren't fake,
but what's said here is no more than fiction.
It only was writ
because we like their wit
and wisecracks, and pull-squints, and diction.
We don't mean to quibble,
but this can't be libel;
it's never implied to be real.
No disrespect's meant;
if you disapprove, then,
the back button's right up there. Deal.

Notes: A follow-up to The Thing With Feathers. You'll want to glance at

middle_america, too.

Wingfic, character death, comic nudity, gratuitous Elvish, self-insert, cameo by

imoldfashioned, cameo by Haruhi, generally cracktastic crossover, me having way too much fun.

The Next Five Times Stephen Switched Universes

One.
(2007.09.01)

It was finally Saturday, and Stephen had every intention of staying in bed until noon. He could hear the shower running in the master bathroom; clearly his wife intended to be productive today. Not him. He burrowed contentedly deeper into the pillow.

At last the water stopped, and Stephen opened his eyes. Even if he wasn't going to get up until the afternoon, he could still say good morning to his wife. He sat up a little as the bathroom door opened.

A very clean, very dripping, and very naked Jon walked out.

Stephen yelped and pulled the blanket over his head.

"Are you okay, Stephen?" asked Jon quickly.

"Um. Yeah. Yeah, fine," stammered Stephen. "I don't know how to explain this, but, um..."

"This may sound like a stupid question," said Jon, "but are you by any chance a registered Democrat?"

"Ye-es," replied Stephen slowly. "Do you know what...?"

"Yeah, I know what happened. Stay there; I'll get dressed."

Stephen waited under the covers. Over the creak of drawers opening and the rustle of clothes, he heard Jon mutter to himself, "Wonder which deity he ticked off this week."

Two.
(Third Age, 3019.01.25)

Even before he opened his eyes, he knew things had changed. Either he was no longer in his room, or his bed had gone hard and brambly.

He stirred, and felt the crackle of leaves. Yes, he was definitely outside; and with a groan he realized that he was painfully stiff from sleeping on the ground all night, or however much of the night he had been there.

Something cold pressed against his neck, and he opened his eyes.

It took a few groggy moments before he pieced the scene together. The perspective was weirdly off, but the faces of the people around him were familiar, and that was definitely Jon staring down at him: a rugged and scruffy version of Jon, with a determined set to the jaw and hard, suspicious eyes.

He was wearing a tunic and cloak straight out of a D&D handbook, and in his gloved hand was the grip of a sword. The cold touch at Stephen's throat was the blade.

"Hey, careful with that thing!" exclaimed Stephen, holding very still. "What's going on? Did we have a party, get plastered, and spontaneously decide to go LARPing?"

Jon looked completely baffled.

"It stands for Live Action Role Playing," began Stephen, but then Jon cut him off with a demand in a musical, lilting language that he didn't recognize at all.

It wasn't just the acronym that had been lost on him. It was the whole speech.

"You don't speak English," said Stephen slowly. "Parlez-vous français? Sprecken sie Deutsch? Hablas español?"

Nothing. Jon said something else, in the tone of an order and the language of -- what?

Stephen looked around at the other faces for help, and found none. All were familiar -- Steve, Sam, Rob, Ed, Jason -- but Steve, in full Little Miss Sunshine beard, was glaring at him with outright hostility, and the other four just looked frightened.

"I'm really sore, so I'm going to sit up now," he said, speaking slowly and calmly even though the actual words wouldn't be understood, hoping he sounded as nonthreatening as possible. "Please don't kill me."

He eased himself into a sitting position. Jon kept the sword at his neck, but he was using the flat rather than the edge, so Stephen was fine as long as he didn't make any sudden moves.

When he was sitting up, he looked around the group and realized abruptly what was off about the perspective.

The man with Jon's face was the tallest person in the group.

Stephen glanced down. Jon and Steve wore boots, but the feet of the other four were bare -- and, yes, furry.

"Aiya," he said, then pointed to himself. "Mellon." And then, tentatively, "Estel?"

Slowly Jon drew the sword away. "Stepholas?"

No way.

"Stephen," he corrected, pointing to himself. "Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo."

"Mae govannen, Stephen," said Jon/Estel, and then asked a question that was rapid, gorgeous, and completely incomprehensible.

"I'm sorry," said Stephen, "really, I am, because this is the coolest thing that has ever happened. But you have just reached the limit of my Elvish."

Aiya is a Quenya greeting; mellon is Sindarin for "friend"; Estel is an alias that the Elves called Aragorn (Quenya for "Hope"); Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo is Quenya for "a star shines on the hour of our meeting"; mae govannen is Sindarin for "well met"; and the only other phrase I know in Elvish is "go kiss an orc", which Stephen should probably avoid, don't you think?

Three.
(2007.10.31)

For once, Stephen was actually awake for the switch. Rather than feeling himself yanked across time and space, as he had expected, it was like riding in a car; he saw the world around him blur and race away, but if he had closed his eyes he wouldn't have had any sense of motion.

And then he was sitting at his desk (which was not his desk), and a few paces in front of him was his own back (which was the other Stephen's back), and right in front of that was the audience (Other-Stephen's audience), clearly in the middle of the pre-taping Q&A.

A girl in the front row, wearing a T-shirt and glasses with her short wavy hair held in check by a headband, waved. "Hi there! Don't worry, this one was my fault, and I won't keep you long."

There were gasps, stares, and exclamations from the rest of the audience as they noticed him. Other-Stephen turned to follow their collective gaze, and he stared too, dumbstruck.

"You're both real," said the audience member who had spoken. "I mean, neither of you are the character. In fact, as far as I know, your lives are completely identical up until last August 13."

Other-Stephen looked back and forth from the new appearance at his desk to the matter-of-fact speaker, stuttering, clearly too full of questions to know which one to ask first. At last he said, "What happened on August 13?"

"The wørd was 'White Guy'," prompted the speaker, looking at Stephen.

"Oh!" exclaimed Stephen. "You mean he hasn't--?"

"Nope. None of that. His life just went on as normal."

"I haven't what?" demanded Other-Stephen.

"You want to tell him, or should I?"

"I can do it," said Stephen. "But, um, why bring me here?"

"Because I just asked him," said the girl, nodding her head towards Other-Stephen, "whether he sympathized with his character. And he said, 'Not really, no.' I figured you might be able to change that."

"I can try." With that, Stephen addressed Other-Stephen, answering the questions that he imagined he himself would ask in a situation like this. "On August 13, I was dropped into an alternate universe where our character is a real person, and the Report is serious. And the character was switched into my universe."

Other-Stephen's eyebrows shot up. "That had to suck."

"Oh, believe me, it did. For both of us. He almost fell apart. Here's the thing -- try thinking for a minute about what his life would really be like. He's incredibly repressed, he's easily frightened and hurt, he doesn't have many real friends, people don't take him seriously -- he's damaged, and he doesn't have the emotional maturity to cope with it. He's not just a fool who has spent his life not playing the fool; he's spend his life playing the strong and independent adult, when he's basically a needy, lonely kid."

Language is an imperfect thing. To speak to another person is to take limitless thoughts, force them to conform to those ideas which your vocabulary allows for, and then hope that that vocabulary is understood in a sufficiently similar manner by the other person that a close approximation of your meaning comes through.

These two men understood things in precisely the same manner. With the exception of two short months' worth of existence, they had the same experiences, same thoughts, same understandings. Every word carried for both of them identical meanings, subtext, and associations. Other-Stephen heard the things that Stephen said, and the things he didn't say, and, between them, the things he meant.

For a moment, just between them, language was perfect.

"I see what you mean," said Other-Stephen slowly. "I never thought of it that way."

Stephen grinned. "Fair enough. Neither did I."

"So -- wait a minute -- you were in a universe where it's all real? What about Jon? He wouldn't put up with all the BS I give him in-character if it were real."

"Jon's playing a character too. In that universe, he does put up with it. He's got his reasons -- he does sympathize with Stephen-the-character. By the way," he added, turning to the girl in the audience, "how are they doing? Do you know?"

"You're never going to stop asking that, are you?"

"Not as long as I keep meeting people who can answer."

She sighed. "They're doing fine. Jon fired half the graphics people and hired a fact-checker, and they actually sent a correspondent to Iraq, and Stephen made it through rehab successfully. Oh, and Jon tried being assertive, and it went over well."

Because deciphering that last bit relied on experiences that Other-Stephen had not had, the meaning flew right by him. Most of the audience didn't get it either, though the woman next to the speaker stifled a giggle.

Stephen understood, and smiled. "Good to hear. Thank you."

"No problem." The girl raised her hands. To Other-Stephen she said, "Anything else you want to say before I send him back?"

"Tons. You wouldn't let him stay around to be interviewed?"

"Nope, sorry. Though I'm not going anywhere myself. How about you? Any last words before you go?"

"One quick question," said Stephen. "Who are you, exactly? I've been brushing up on my mythology, but I don't recognize you."

"You wouldn't. This won't help much, but the name I usually use is Ptah."

With that she gave a little shove into the air, and though Stephen didn't feel as though he had been pushed, the rest of the other world -- Ptah included -- flew back and away.

Four.
(2009.04.23)

He thought back on it later, many times and in great detail, but he never figured out when this switch had happened. There were things that in retrospect might have been clues, but might have had far simpler explanations. Like the paperweight on the wrong side of his desk -- for all he knew, he had moved it himself and then forgotten. In every notable way, this universe was identical to his own.

One morning he was digging through his closet in search of a certain tie, and even the fact that he couldn't find it didn't tip him off, because ties get lost all the time, no supernatural explanation necessary.

He pulled out a dark green tie that he didn't recognize -- again, not surprising, he had too many to remember them all -- and shouted down the hall, "Honey, have you seen my blue tie with the polka dots?"

"Your what?" called his wife's voice from downstairs.

"Blue tie. Polka dots. Is it in the wash, or--"

The world cracked like an egg and split open.

Stephen jumped. There was a hole in the world, half as big around as his bedroom, and on the other side was a second copy of his bedroom, in which stood another Stephen in exactly the same pose. At the seam between the worlds stood a Japanese girl in a blue and white school uniform, with thick dark hair held in check by a bright yellow ribbon.

"Sorry about that! My mistake. But it's fixed," she said, flashing them a thumbs-up, "so you can go back now."

With that, Haruhi vanished, and the hole began to close.

The other Stephen looked at Stephen's hand, then at the strip of blue cloth in his own. "Well, that explains why I couldn't find my green tie."

"Trade you," said Stephen, holding it out as he stepped across the barrier.

Five.
(????.??.??)

"How do you feel?"

The voice was familiar, but Stephen couldn't place it. It wasn't any of the nurses he was used to.

He considered the question dreamily.

"Good," he said at last, with some surprise. "Very good. Better than I have in -- oh, I don't even know. Decades, maybe."

"No pain?"

Stephen did a quick mental inventory. Then he did a thorough one, just to make sure. Both came up negative. His hip had stopped aching, his legs no longer felt stiff, and his breath wasn't rattling in his throat. There was something odd about his shoulders, but it wasn't a bad kind of odd. In fact, now that he thought about it, when he had spoken, even his voice had been sure and strong in his ears.

"No pain at all," he replied. "Whatever new thing you've got me on, it's working."

Hang on.

In his ears?

Stephen's eyes flew open. The room looked sort of like the way he had pictured Rivendell when he first read the books, with high ceilings, open walls, and light spilling in from all sides. Between the columns of one of the open walls he could see a lush valley, full of greenery and flowing water.

He wasn't wearing his glasses -- neither the standard ones from his younger days nor the bifocals he had finally gotten -- but in the far distance he could see every detail.

He looked down at himself; there was a creamy blanket draped over him, and he was lying on what looked like a sheet of feathers, but his hands were settled atop the blanket, and he turned them over in wonder. Gone were the wrinkles, the liver spots, even the scar on his thumb from the shop class accident in ninth grade.

"Nice, isn't it?" said the voice with some amusement, and for the first time Stephen looked at the speaker.

The man had a vast pair of feathery wings, but that wasn't what caught Stephen's attention. A face he knew -- though it would have gone dim in his memory if not for the photographs his mother had saved so carefully -- smiled down at him.

"Oh my God," breathed Stephen.

"Not quite," said the almost-forgotten voice. "He'll be around later."

"Then this is...?"

"Exactly." The man's smile grew even broader. "Welcome home, son."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Is it really sad that I knew all of the Elvish without the translation? *nerddom*
And YAY for LARP!! :)

I envy your levels of geekiness; I had to go look it all up.

Thank you!

You're looking at probably the biggest fictional language fanatic there is - I actually took up studying High Elvish (Similliaron h'elan prior to first age) for about 3 months. And then I've been tackling Romulan from Star Trek for about 8 months now.

And PS did I ever mention that the fic was gorgeous in every single way? Cause I seriously think it. A lot.

That's amazing. I struggle with real languages. (I'm a fair hand with English, but I've had seven years of French and still struggle.)

You didn't, but thank you!

Hah, I loved the crossover with Middle America so much. (Yeah, I knew the Elvish too). And it's great to see someone else to knows Suzumiya Haruhi. The only thing I was expecting but didn't see was zombies, but that's because it's Stephen, not Jon.

Thanks (and props to you)!

Haruhi is awesome incarnate.

There were some zombies over in this fic, if you're interested ^_~

First of all: I read The Thing With Feathers last night and I've gotta tell you, it was the first fic in a LONG time that made me stay up way too late reading it, and not care at all how tired I was the next morning. So THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WRITING IT! It was absolutely brilliant. I want to be back in that world. Seriously, fantastic work.

And I really enjoyed this, too! Especially the last one, thought it was quite sad in a happy kind of way. I don't know. But you've come up with one of the most interesting premises I've read in ages and I hope you keep going with it.

The last of these keeps striking people differently. There's some inevitable sadness in it, but overall it's supposed to leave you feeling good.

I'm afraid this is the end of this story, and I don't know what more I could do without bleeding the premise dry. (Did you read All Sparks? Similar idea of a multiverse, very different execution, excellent result.) But I'm thrilled that you liked it so much, and I have more premises in me, never fear ^_~

Oh, it was definitely a positive feeling at the end, but of course it's sad because you think about poor Stephen losing his dad when he was ten. But I really liked the way you wrote it.

I guess I just never wanted The Thing With Feathers to end! I look forward to reading whatever you right next, anyway.

True. But it's not a loss forever.

A story can't have a happy ending if it doesn't end. But yes, I have more; stick around.

Haha, I meant "write". Brain = mush, at the moment.

Oh, I liked the last one best :) Back to watching Planet in Peril!

Thank you!

Loved this. I'm so into your writing.

My favorite one was the one with the ties, and I really liked the last one too. But it also depressed me out of my wits to think of him ever dying...damn you!

Can't wait for more of your writing!

I take it you found All Sparks? (I wrote a Five Things-style sequel to that too.)

Gotta happen one day. Let's just hope the date in question marks isn't any time soon.

Thank you!

Yes I did, within 5 seconds of posting the comment...haha thank you.

I did know of yours; I actually read yours first a while back and then followed the link to All Sparks. Loved it!

Loved the Middle America crossover, as well as the fact that Stephen can speak some Elvish.

The last one depressed me in an odd way, but I found it amusing that Stephen's heaven looks like Rivendell. Once a nerd, always a nerd.

He spoke Elvish to Conan. It was hilarious. The audience wasn't anywhere near geeky enough to appreciate it.

That was my thinking =)

Thank you!

The last one made me cry. :)

Glad it was effective. ♥

*snicker*

"I'm sorry," said Stephen, "really, I am, because this is the coolest thing that has ever happened. But you have just reached the limit of my Elvish."

Stephen's geekish enthusiasm makes me happy.

Also, I was reading the one with you, and suddenly "YOU ARE BOTH BEING WRITTEN BY SOMEONE ELSE" took on a whole new meaning...

Stephen's geekish enthusiasm is a thing of beauty.

Layers! I said from the beginning that the story would have layers, and here's yet another.

Glad you liked!

Number two and number three = brilliant!

Thank you! (And your icon is fantastic.)

You're welcome, and thank you ^^ Haven't actually made it myself, but I love it.

OMGAHHHHHHH *EXPLODES*
sorry, number 2 BLEW MY MIND

Hee. Thank you =D

Amazing, as always.

Thank you ♥

I've been extremely lax in my commenting lately (numerous lengthy art projects and getting ready for one of the high holidays), and I do apologize, since I did very muchly enjoy "The Thing with Feathers". :^)

Number three was probably my favorite, although I loved them all. Writer in writer-created universe = always win. Shades of Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions!

ADDENDUM: On a personal note, I can sorta see myself in number two, except with Neil Gaiman's Sandman series. Holy samolions, I'm in one of my favorite literary worlds and I haven't the faintest idea what to do.

No worries; glad you liked it!

I have now been compared to Pratchett, Adams, and Vonnegut. I don't know how much more honored I can get.

Whenever I'm asked what fictional world I would most like to be in, I say "Pokémon." It's not that I like it most, but that extras in most of the series I enjoy tend to get bitten by vampires, have various parts of their souls pulled out by demons, or meet the Corinthian. If I'm going to be an extra, I want it to be in a series where a ten-year-old can wander the countryside alone and his mother doesn't have to worry.

ok.. that last one gave me chills..

One. LMFAO.

Two. I LOVE YOU. Stephen (AND JON!) speaking Quenya is quite possibly the only thing sexier than either of them speaking French. XD (But what god did Stepholas manage to piss off? I'm going to assume that Eru did it as a favor to Stephen, because he knew he would find it awesome.)

Three. XD You need to ask him that question now, you know! And this bit: For a moment, just between them, language was perfect. - I adore. I'm glad Stephen (and us!) finally got his question answered! (I think I like this one the best, actually.)

Four. I know nothing about Haruchi, but even so, this is really cute.

Five. Awwwww. Oh, his heaven is Rivendell. Oh, perfect. ♥ (Heaven is a parallel universe in this philosophy, then?)

I was going to say that if Eru did Two as a favor to Stephen, it wasn't a very well-thought-out one because of the language barrier and the danger, especially now that Lewis is gone; but they're about to hit the

middle_america equivalent of Lothlorien, so not only is it safe, but Amy Sedariel can probably use her spiffy mind-reading-type powers to establish communication.

From that point on, though, there'll be trouble, because Stepholas with all his skills is integral to the rest of the story. So I hope Eru gets done with resurrecting Lewis in time to switch them back.

I've thought about asking that question, but I'm afraid that he'll give a joke answer ("I'm fond of him; I get to cash his checks") and then I will have wasted my question. So I'm not going to, at least at the taping. Maybe afterwards, if he's not in a hurry.

Did you ever see Sliders? Yep, Heaven is a parallel universe =)

Glad you like!

One.(2007.09.01)- *snortcoughchokesonwaterandspitsalloverthemonitorandkeyboard* *snerk*

Two.(Third Age, 3019.01.25)- Can I commence humping upon your geek-buttons? Cause you've just pressed mine. adjasjafadhfkl!!! I would never use the Elvish for go kiss an orc on Jonagorn ever. ~~I will use it on my Geometry teacher, though.~~

Three.2007.10.31)-*giggles* This self-insert was justified. I like the fact that Stephen encountered the real him, but in a different time. BTW, I drew you in a fuku, is that alright?

Four.(2009.04.23)-- I suddenly have the urge to search for this anime/manga.

Five.(????.??.??)-- *cries* I hate it when I read these kinds of things. Reminds me that they're halfway there. *cries some more*

Thanks for this follow-up. Really like it. *happybeyondmeasure*

XD

Elvish is always fun.

Me in a fuku is perfectly fine =)

Search for it! Haruhi is awesome.

The glass is still half full -- and the last half, this time, is the best.

Thank you ♥

YAY.

Those were all perfect.
I just read The Thing With Feathers in the past two days and I am in love.

Awesome to hear.

Thank you!

"This may sound like a stupid question," said Jon, "but are you by any chance a registered Democrat?"

"Ye-es," replied Stephen slowly. "Do you know what...?"

"Yeah, I know what happened. Stay there; I'll get dressed."

Stephen waited under the covers. Over the creak of drawers opening and the rustle of clothes, he heard Jon mutter to himself, "Wonder which deity he ticked off this week.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fake News: The Next Five Times Stephen Switched Universes

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