So even though I haven't been writing anything here, I have been doing this and that to keep me from going crazy with my school.

Here's a ton of icons that I've made.

7 Brendan Fraser (made for the Small Movie Challenge Comm)
44 Sci-Fi/Fantasy (made for an icon battle)
18 Doctor Who


( Save the bandwidth!!! )


( And a joke... )

( Previous days here... )

Day 21 - A pairing you like and no one else understands why?
Duchess/Jack “Alice”

Alice/Hatter dominate the fandom, so when D/J does pop up it's as more of a secondary “Pair the spares” sort of thing which makes me so sad. The Duchess was such an unexplored character and she had such potential, but no one but me seems to want to explore it.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.


`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

-- Lewis Carroll

With one quick instruction of, remember to breath, she was gone. Hatter watched the mirror for a moment, as if she might suddenly step back through, before turning around and walking out to revolving door.

The trip back to the tea shop happened on auto pilot; it was the crunch of glass that brought Hatter back to himself. “Oh...” He let out a long sigh, “This is going to take some work.”

He carefully made his way over to the, now empty, wardrobe and hung up the velvet coat – Alice's coat.

Hatter chest grew heavier as he surveyed the room. “Oi!” he rushed over to his desk and gently picked up a battered top hat.

The hat was made of sage colored felt with a dark green silk band and a brim that rolled up slightly at the edge. He had been just nine when it had been willed to him by his great Uncle Reginald.

Uncle Reg was one-hundred and twenty-seven when he died, but that didn't really count. Uncle Reg had once cheated Time at cards, which is something you really shouldn't do. The consequence of which, Uncle Reg had been stuck at six o'clock for just over thirty years.

Hatter looked at the dirt sprinkled along the side of the hat. Philistines, he thought. He softly blew at the dirt, but stopped quickly when something went thud.

Looking down he was surprised to see a small packet of yellowing paper tied with a black ribbon. Hatter sat down at the desk and just looked at the for a moment, had that been in the hat all these years?

With a soft tug the bow on the ribbon came undone, then Hatter gently unfolded the top letter.

She’s all my fancy painted him
(I make no idle boast);
If he or you had lost a limb,
Which would have suffered most?
They told me you had been to her,
And mentioned me to him:
She gave me a good character,
But said I could not swim.

It was total drivel. Hatter set the paper back on the desk and was folding it when an odd shimmering caught his eye. Picking the paper back up, this time holding it over his head and slowly turning it to the light, Hatter saw the words change.

She’s all my fancy painted her,
she’s lovely, she’s divine,
But her heart it is another’s,
she never can be mine.
Yet loved I as man never loved,
a love without decay,
Oh, my heart, my heart is breaking
for the love of Alice Gray.

This was... No, it was impossible. Okay, yes Uncle Reg had met Alice of Legend, he had heard the story many times as a lad. But there was no way that this poem was about her.

Her golden* hair is braided
o’er a brow of spotless white,
Her soft blue eye now languishes,
now flashes with delight;
Her hair is braided not for me,
the eye is turned away,
Yet my heart, my heart is breaking
for the love of Alice Gray.

I’ve sunk beneath the summer’s sun,
and trembled in the blast.
But my pilgrimage is nearly done,
the weary conflict’s past;
And when the green sod wraps my grave,
may pity haply say,
Oh, his heart, his heart is broken
for the love of Alice Gray!

Hatter slowly put the poem down and reached for the next paper in the bunch. It began, Dear Alice...

It has been less then an hour since we spoke at the looking glass, but there were
things that I could not say to you then that I must say somehow. You looked so
lovely in your wedding dress. I do hope that your Mr. Gray understands what a great
prize he has won in you.

If you were to read the above I'm quite sure you would laugh. But Mr. Hatter, you
might say, why could you not give me a simple complement when you have given
me so many before?

It is not the complement that stumbled me, but the sentiment behind it. For if I
started by tell you how lovely you looked I would surely finish by telling you how
ardently I love you.

Ah, there it is, my dear girl. The one secret I have manged to keep. I love you.

I have kept this to myself for a vast list of reasons: our diverse upbringings, the
differences in our worlds, my strange quarrel with Time. But if I am to be honest,
the largest reason for my secrecy is due to cowardice. I was simply too scared of
hearing you say that you didn't return my feelings.

I know we shan't speak again. You have a new adventure to face, one that I won't be
able to help you with. I wish you well on it.

Yours forever,
Reginald M. Hatter

Hatter was stunned. Uncle Reg had not only met the Legendary Alice, but had really known her, had loved her.

I was simply too scared of hearing you say that you didn't return my feelings.

The line from the letter rang louder and louder in his head. Hatter jumped to his feet and ran out the door. Uncle Reg had may have been too scared to confess his feelings, but he'd be damned if he let history repeat itself.




Alice Gray by William Mee, parody by Lewis Carroll
*Mr. Mee wrote of dark brown hair, but Alice of Legend had yellow so I made the change.

"Alice" has brought out the vidder in me. Here is my first one, enjoy.



Windows Movie Maker is being stupid about "Poker Face", but I'm hoping it will be up later today.