Tuesday: Alternate History
Dec. 13th, 2011 01:23 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficGood morning, everyone! Today’s Tuesday, and it’s ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
meteorfire here with the latest theme of the day.
Today’s theme is Alternate History! How do things change when a certain event—either in their own personal history or in world history—is altered? What if the colonists lost in the Revolutionary War? Or continental drift never occurred? It can be as far back of a change as you want, anything is game!
Here's some examples:
And as always, remember to follow the rules:
Have fun, everyone!
tag= AlternateHistory
meteorfire here with the latest theme of the day.Today’s theme is Alternate History! How do things change when a certain event—either in their own personal history or in world history—is altered? What if the colonists lost in the Revolutionary War? Or continental drift never occurred? It can be as far back of a change as you want, anything is game!
Here's some examples:
- NCIS, any, dinosaurs never went extinct, which makes getting work a bit difficult
- The Avengers, Steve, World War II never happened.
- Stargate Atlantis, any, the Ancients were killed by the Wraith before they were able to learn to ascend
- Buffy the Vampire Slayer, any, Angelus never encountered the gypsies
And as always, remember to follow the rules:
- Only three prompts from a fandom
- Only five prompts in a row
- If one prompt gets filled you can leave a new one
- No spoilers in your prompts until a week after airdate/publication
- If your fill contains a spoiler please warn accordingly and leave space for the spoiler.
Have fun, everyone!
tag= AlternateHistory
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no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:31 am (UTC)because I just finished rewatching 5x13
Date: 2011-12-13 07:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:33 am (UTC)FILL: "The Number of Man"; Samuel Colt makes twenty bullets
Date: 2011-12-13 02:12 pm (UTC)So when he made its bullets, he almost—almost—stopped after #13. In fact, he told his helper that that was his intent.
But something told him to keep going. Twenty, his mind kept insisting. The number of Man. And when he paused to engrave the numbers, he found he’d already made fourteen. So twenty it was.
He’d fired it a grand total of five times before a giant with shaggy brown hair, haunted green-hazel eyes, and too-clean clothes showed up claiming to have come from the year 2012 in search of a phoenix in Sunrise, WY. Claimed he needed the ash for a weapon in his own time. Colt wouldn’t go with the kid, but he sent the gun. Then he thought better of it and followed at a safe distance. He got to Sunrise just as Elkins, the barkeep, was picking the gun up out of the dust.
“They disappeared, Mr. Colt,” said Elkins, handing him the gun. “Shot this feller, made a dive for the ashes... disappeared ’fore they could reach ’im.”
Colt looked at the gun and the phoenix’s ashes. He thought about the kid, the magic brick he’d left behind, his crazy tale and his plea for help. He thought about his trap and the war and how unlikely it was that he’d survive much longer.
“Elkins,” said he, “I need a favor.”
-----
One bullet was fired by an Elkins somewhere between 1861 and 1973.
One bullet was fired by a hunter who called himself Dean Van Halen, but it missed its mark. By then, the story was that there were only 13 bullets, and few indeed were the beings, living or undead, who knew otherwise.
One bullet was fired by John Winchester, to kill a vampire and save his son.
Bullet #10, fired by Sam Winchester, should have missed because he should have hesitated. But with five rounds in the cylinder and six more in his brother’s pocket, he burst into Rose Holt’s nursery prepared to imitate John Wayne if he had to. That first shot killed Azazel—and his plans for the Apocalypse with him.
Bullet #11 took out one of Azazel’s children. Bullet #12 drove another out of John. But with Azazel dead, there was no possessed semi waiting to push John into selling his soul to save a comatose Dean. Dean recovered easily with due medical attention, and the Winchesters... retired as a family to the little town of Cicero, IN, where it turned out that Dean had a son. And they stayed retired, aside from the occasional weekend hunt. Bobby Singer did get a box from Colt addressed to Sam in 2012, but it took a lot of digging for him to figure out what the black stuff in the bottle was, and none of them could figure out how Colt had gotten Sam’s Blackberry—with different information on the SIM card, no less—in 1861.
Bullets 13-15 took care of the few demons who dared to attempt to force the Winchesters back into the life. And Sweet 16? That was for a cute little blonde named Ruby who tried to tempt Sam into exploring his powers and who’d been Colt’s muse—and killer.
Poetic justice, if Gabriel did say so himself.
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From:no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-10 06:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:47 am (UTC)The More Things Change (PG13)
Date: 2011-12-14 12:32 am (UTC)Zoe follows after, because she was never one to be tied to dirt anyhow. People, though, she’s tied herself to them without ever meaning to and most are dead and gone, but not Malcolm Reynolds and she’d like to see it stay that way.
Kaylee’s a girl who gets an opportunity. Doesn’t matter what happened when she was too young to know about it, far away and distant, winners or losers there’s an opportunity that comes her way and she’s good with taking those.
Wash finally gets released from a prisoner of war camp run by the Alliance, but there’s some confusion over whose side he was really on, because the paper trail says that he was in an Independent’s POW camp before that, and flying medical supplies to the Alliance before that and no one has the time or inclination to sort it out. Wars are messy and they leave mess behind them, but Wash just wants to fly, plain and simple; it’s just a matter of who’ll take him.
Jayne’s not the type to follow rules, whoever’s making them. An Independent society means he’s got the chance to go his own way, but for all he hates the rules life’s easier when you’ve got someone to follow, someone who’ll do the planning, and Mal’s good with that, so good he helped to win a war.
Inara wonders if there will be a place for Companions in this new ‘verse, but she doesn’t wait to find out. They say that now people can be as they are, so as long as she says that she’s a Companion then she will be, however separate from a Guild that may disband, owner of herself, until she can figure out what comes next.
Book believes that now is as good a time as any to see the worlds. It’s a matter of time: the Abbott says that he’s ready and who is he to disagree?
Serenity is where they all end up, because that’s where they were headed. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Simon saves lives. He reattaches a girl’s leg and she names her hamster after him.
River dances. There is time and space yet for her to grow into whoever she will be.
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From:no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 07:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 08:03 am (UTC)FILL: "Days to Come"; it was John who died, and Mary who took the road with the boys. [1/5]
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From:no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 09:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 09:17 am (UTC)untitled, gen, PG
Date: 2014-04-03 06:43 pm (UTC)(So... I just noticed that you wanted Derek/Stiles. This is only Stiles, right after the woods. Sorry! I thought about continuing it, but it seemed forced. But I may come back to it when I'm not so frazzled.)
...
He gets home and falls onto his bed, bloody clothes and all. Dad'll be busy till after dawn, for sure, and Stiles should call Scott, let him know that who (what) killed the girl didn't get him, but he's just... done. So fucking done with thinking.
In the morning, he hides his bloody clothes, shoves the sheet into the washing machine, takes the quickest shower of his life, and then looks at his side, where the thing bit him.
There isn't even a mark. If it weren't for the clothes, he'd almost think he'd imagined it. He's had daydreams so believable before. (Like when he'd convinced himself Mom had come back.) (Or that time he thought Dad had died on the job.)
But there wasn't any tangible evidence for those. For this, there is.
He swallows heavily and decides to stay home from school.
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From:no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 09:24 am (UTC)No fill, but
Date: 2011-12-13 11:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 09:26 am (UTC)Fill: Fill 1/2
Date: 2011-12-13 07:01 pm (UTC)He settles on the latter. Thinks about gathering laundry together and getting that out of the way early (Laundry Day, in the Bartowski household, has always been Thursday - Bryce has been told - for reasons unknown, and so it has been - as he has no set "Laundry Day" - in his and Chuck's dorm room by default.)
Bryce isn't thinking about what he's actually doing, tidying up the room and hitting the play button on his and Chuck's shared answering machine, until a familiar voice says Chuck's name in a recording and turns Bryce's blood cold.
That voice makes the decision for him as to what Bryce will be doing with his day.
Part of it, anyway. Bryce meets with Flemming, telling him that he knows why the professor called Chuck last week, he knows that Chuck isn't cut out for the CIA, and he wants Chuck's recruitment to stop.
The meeting doesn't go as Bryce expected.
Mostly because Chuck isn't in the process of being recruited anymore...
He's signed himself up.
The next few hours of Bryce's life seem almost surreal. For all of the pride that Bryce feels in his own decision to accept an offer into the CIA, the thought of Chuck sparring against an upperclassman on the mats makes Bryce feel nervous. The thought of Chuck holding a gun - a real gun - makes Bryce queasy.
The thought of Chuck agreeing to all of this, somehow unbeknownst to Bryce, makes Bryce's pulse race. Why would Chuck - one of the kindest, gentlest people Bryce knows - sign up for a job that involves danger and violence... How could Chuck sign up without Bryce's noticing? Bryce is a relatively adept liar. Chuck wears his heart on his sleeve. Chuck is sincere to a fault; how is it that Bryce hasn't even noticed Chuck looking contemplative over this? This decision to sign away the nice, normal, safe life he's been living for good?
Bryce wonders if he's been paying Chuck too little attention since making that choice himself. Or maybe he's been paying Chuck too little attention all along... Maybe Bryce doesn't know Chuck at all.
Fill: 2/2
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From:no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 09:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-30 01:13 am (UTC)Veronica turned and raised an eyebrow at the boy standing next to her. To say that her relationship with Logan was ok would be weird but ever since Lilly’s death there bond had grown stronger. In her mind she wasn’t sure where it had come from. When Lilly was alive they only really interacted because she was Lilly’s best friend and he was her boyfriend, and best friends with her ex. Now it felt like a weird betrayal. That they would hang out without that weird relationship hanging between them but when he had chosen not to turn on her when everyone else in the school had she couldn’t help but feel privileged to have him as a friend.
“What about Friday, Logan?’
“There’s a party. It’s at the beach and I figured you might want to come.”
“And what kind of party would that be?”
Logan tried to shrug nonchalantly, “An 09er party.”
Veronica hissed in a breath, “See that’s where my problems start. I don’t like 09ers and I’m not that fond of parties. I’m not entirely convinced that I would like to mix the two of them together ever again.”
“Look I know the last one was disastrous – ”
“Logan!” she snapped, “Who would have known what would have happened to me if you hadn’t found me on that lounge chair and taken me home. I couldn’t have been raped for all we know.”
“And that’s why every day I thank the stars that I found you before anyone else.” Logan whispered, reaching out to rub her shoulder reassuringly, “But you can’t live your life in fear. Isn’t that what your whole new outfit is about?”
Veronica looked down at her outfit. Sure she had stopped with the pinks over the summer, traded in some of her dresses for kick ass miniskirts and butcher boots, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to go to the party. She had just come to the realisation that if every day was going to be a war in school then she was going to dress in her battle armour. Honestly who took a person in kitten heels and a flowery dress seriously?
“No. It’s about being prepared for anything.”
“Even if that means flashing your thighs for the world to see,” Logan replied, his smug grin firmly in place until Veronica smacked him in the arm, “I’m not saying they look bad. I can appreciate the amount of skin you’re showing off for the world to see. I can wish that you would show it off at this party too though. It’ll be fun I promise. I even got Wallace to agree to come.”
“Cause it doesn’t take much to get Wallace to agree to go to a party.”
Logan shrugged, “I had to promise to stop through a drive threw when he’s drunk for a burger but he promised not to throw up in my car so I call it a win.”
Veronica sighed, she could see that she wasn’t going to win this, “Ok I will come but you have to stick by my side the whole time and I pour my own drinks.”
“Deal,” Logan replied, extending his hand for her to shake.
Taking it she shook her head. Sometimes she wasn’t sure it was a good thing that Logan had remained her friend. Moments like this though, made her realise what she had been missing out on all those years ago and she was never going back.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 09:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 10:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-13 10:25 am (UTC)FILL: "Unconventional (1875)"; Processing crime scenes in a steampunk world is always interesting.
Date: 2011-12-13 01:48 pm (UTC)There were those who claimed that Ziva David, daughter of a Viennese Jewish spymaster, was a hussy for always wearing a riding skirt.
There were those who called L. Jethro Gibbs a martinet, Tony DiNozzo a gigolo or Mafia pawn, Timothy McGee a foolish dreamer, Donald “Ducky” Mallard a Limey has-been, and Jimmy Palmer a pup better left on the farm. All who held such opinions believed categorically that President Grant had made a mistake in hiring such oddballs to investigate crimes against the Navy.
They were all wrong.
-----
DiNozzo made certain the warning cordon was tight around the boundaries of the crime scene while David placed the last number marker and called to McGee to begin taking photographs with the handheld tintype camera he’d perfected the previous year. When McGee was ready to begin, David held a lantern for him to illuminate the scene. Gibbs finished checking with the police officers on the scene and made his way to the corpse Drs. Mallard and Palmer were examining, the late Marine Lt. Paul Jacobson. Palmer, in fact, was hurriedly labeling a blood sample vial.
“Whaddaya got, Duck?”
“This crime scene was staged, Jethro,” Ducky replied. “I’ll know more for sure once I get this blood sample to Abby and perform the autopsy, but this bullet wound appears to have been inflicted post-mortem—almost immediately, but likely not quickly enough. I’m concerned that the actual cause of death might be some toxin that breaks down rapidly, and as the time of death was just over an hour ago, that leaves her precious little time to find it.”
Gibbs nodded. “DiNozzo.”
DiNozzo hurried over while Palmer made notes in his log book and put the vial in a cushioned case. “Yeah, Boss?”
Gibbs nodded to Palmer. “Get that back to the Navy Yard.”
“Sure, Boss.” DiNozzo initialed the log Palmer held out to him, took the case with the vial, then mounted his horse and galloped away into the night toward the private train that held their mobile command center, including a cold-storage car for autopsy and a laboratory car for their forensic scientist.
That urgent task completed, Ducky and Palmer arranged the body on a stretcher and carried it toward the coroner’s wagon. Gibbs, meanwhile, made his way over to David and McGee, whose pockets bulged with slides as he finished his photography.
“Boss,” said he, “this blood trail’s not consistent with someone walking and bleeding. And there are definite signs of something being dragged the same direction.”
“The direction opposite the direction of the footprints,” David added, “suggesting that perhaps the body was dragged by someone walking backward.”
Gibbs nodded. “You about done here?”
McGee nodded. “Just need to label and log these.”
“Good. Go ahead. When you’re done, we’ll start taking witness statements. David, take those back to the Navy Yard.”
Both agents agreed and completed the tagging and logging of the photographs with efficient speed while Ducky and Palmer started the wagon back toward the train. However, about the time they finished, DiNozzo galloped back up to the scene, grinning.
“What?” Gibbs demanded.
DiNozzo chuckled. “Boss, Abby’s new plasma distillation array? So-ho-ho much faster. She thinks she’ll have something for you by the time you get back... as long as it doesn’t blow up.”
“Is it likely to?”
“No. I... don’t think so.”
Gibbs huffed, which was his equivalent of a laugh. “You’re with McGee. C’mon, Ziver.”
As he and David returned to their horses and McGee and DiNozzo started bickering good-naturedly on their way to interview witnesses, Gibbs calculated how many of Abby’s special coffee-centered chocolates her finding a quick answer to the toxicological question would deserve. Jacobson had been killed mere moments before he was due to meet with Gibbs to pass on counter-espionage information; identifying that poison, if poison it was, would narrow down the list of suspects fast.
There had been mishaps over the last five years, but Gibbs’ team still had one of the best records of success of any federal investigative unit. And he was not about to let that change now.
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