Thursday: Deus ex Machina
Aug. 23rd, 2012 04:17 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
roslindi.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
comment_fic"god out of the machine"
An unforeseen character/event/ability/whatever solves the seemingly unsolvable problem. Frustrating on television, but entertaining in comment fic.
Rules:
Fandom, Character(/Character or + Character), prompt
Examples:
Any, any, "You never told me you know fly a helicopter!"
White Collar, Neal, he speaks conversational Swahili
Inception, Cobb, trains on every street
An unforeseen character/event/ability/whatever solves the seemingly unsolvable problem. Frustrating on television, but entertaining in comment fic.
Rules:
- 3 prompts to a fandom
- no more than 5 prompts in a row
- no spoilers in the prompts
- if the fill contains spoilers, warn for them and leave space
Fandom, Character(/Character or + Character), prompt
Examples:
Any, any, "You never told me you know fly a helicopter!"
White Collar, Neal, he speaks conversational Swahili
Inception, Cobb, trains on every street
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no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:31 pm (UTC)No fill
Date: 2012-08-23 09:42 pm (UTC):D
no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:39 pm (UTC)No fill yet, but
Date: 2012-08-23 11:12 pm (UTC)Re: No fill yet, but
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Date: 2012-08-23 09:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:41 pm (UTC)Fill: Animorphs
Date: 2012-08-24 07:02 pm (UTC)It was tragic, but unavoidable, really. It was amazing that the six of them had lasted that long. They had been killed in morph, so that was a small blessing, at least. Four sets of parents were driven mad with worry, but they were not hunted down and infested.
The only one that had been in their own form was an Andalite aristh. Recordings were saved of the slaughter, and the images were broadcast across the galaxy. A battered and bloodied child, dying light years from home, crushed beneath the might of the Yeerk Empire.
It was no accident that the images found their way to Andalite eyes. Crowing Yeerk troops would send the files as a warning, a threat of what would come to any that stood in their way. Soon, the body was identified as that of Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthil, the younger brother of Prince Elfangor.
Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf and Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen were told not to try to find the images.
They did anyway.
They had not seen their Aximili-kala in so long, they barely recognized him.
It was the last straw. The populace had the results of the battle on Earth shoved in their faces. Were an aristh and a few warriors all the defense that could be spared for such a large battle front? Why was the rest of the fleet not there? Why was the Electorate dawdling so long, when children were dying on the front lines? The voice of the people began to rise up against the military class. It was finally time for the princes to start taking notice of Earth.
They went in with Shredders blazing, fully stocked Dome ships charging into battle. With a few stray pictures, the war had struck a personal chord, and the time for the main assault was long overdue.
They crushed the Yeerks within a week.
With the defeat of the Andalite bandits, the Yeerks had shifted strategic power to the unguarded planet. When the fleet did arrive, they took out the main powerhouse of the Empire, and crippled it so severely that surrender was the only recourse. They were beaten back, routed from the planets they had already captured, and corralled back into their sludge filled home world.
Some Yeerks claimed that they had been part of a peace movement, that they had been actively resisting the Empire, alongside the Analite bandits. These were obviously Yeerk lies, and the treacherous slugs were executed for their attempts at sabotage.
And so the war was won, by the power and determination of the Andalite military. The sacrifice of Aristh Aximili and the five unidentified warriors had led to the greatest victory of the Andalite race, which continued to shine proud throughout the universe, a symbol of peace and tranquility.
And from the darkness, the Kelbrid watched.
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Date: 2012-08-23 09:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 10:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:56 pm (UTC)(Because Rock of Ages.)
no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 09:59 pm (UTC)Fill: Cabin Pressure
Date: 2012-08-24 07:03 pm (UTC)“Martin, are you really becoming this worked up over a game?”
“Yeah, Skip, it's loads of fun! It's just like storytelling, except without all of the fiddly remembering bits.”
“It's not fun when Douglas is in charge. He keeps cheating.”
“You are perfectly welcome to be Dungeon Master next time we play. My daughter introduced me to this game, we came up with this scenario together, and I just thought it would be fun to test it on you chaps before she tries it on her group. Little did I know that grown men would have greater difficulty with it than twelve-year-olds.”
“You are deliberately out to get me. That goblin raid barely scratched Arthur.”
“That was brilliant! They were all over, trying to get at me, but I just said 'not today, goblin scum!'. And it worked! They were all too busy eating your flesh, Skip!”
“Yes, Arthur, I was there. I was there to listen to Douglas describe exactly how I would scream.”
“It was a rather good impression, if I do say so myself.”
“Douglas, you need to start over and be fair this time. There is no way that Arthur should be this good at a game that is mostly numbers.”
“But he does get into the roleplaying aspect. That was a genuine scream when the spider trap went off.”
“It was scary!”
“You're sitting in the cockpit listening to Douglas talk! It is a bright shiny day, we are flying over Samoa, there is nothing scary!”
“Yes, Arthur, you should know better than to get over-involved in a game. That would make you look silly and childish.”
“Shut up, Douglas, and start over.”
“Fine, fine, a rock falls and everyone dies.”
“NO! I spent hours coming up with Sir Arthnold, and now he's dead?!?”
“We're starting right back up, you can use him again.”
“It won't be the same.”
“And Douglas, I want a character that can fly this time.”
“I told you, those rules are too complicated. I can look them up some time when I'm not also flying an airplane. We're starting over, same characters, same story.”
“Spoilers.”
“What, Arthur?”
“Spoilers. How were we supposed to know it was the same story?”
“Because I don't have any other stories prepared.”
“But it still might have been a surprise. Now it's spoiled.”
“It is the same story, because I am the only one who is in charge.”
“No, I believe you will find that is me.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“Carolyn, how long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to see how you have all elected to waste my time and money. And long enough to see that Martin and Arthur are lost as adventurers on their own. Pass me a sheet, let me show you how it is done. Callista the Barbarian walks into the tavern...”
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From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 10:15 pm (UTC)Fill
Date: 2012-08-23 11:10 pm (UTC)"You can't die."
"What?"
"You were shot. The doctor said it was a miracle you didn't die right there and then."
She spares him a look as she buttons her coat. "Don't be stupid, Mulder. Doctors can be wrong, we're not all infallible you know."
"You don't trust your doctor?"
"I don't trust anyone, these days."
"I trust my doctor," he says quietly.
She stands up and turns her back, which he knows means this conversation is over, but he can't help but wonder. Bruckman said it, all those long years ago. She'd been the one to hold the mysteries of life in her hands, to file reports that saved his ass and saved his career. She had stood on that bridge with Cassandra Spender, and seen so many mysteries they'd taken the memories from her. They'd seen thousands of miracles and magic tricks; why should she be any different? Maybe she was right to believe in a higher power after all.
"Hey Scully!" He yells after her, "I have a new theory."
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Date: 2012-08-23 10:49 pm (UTC)Quote is from Ben Foster on composing Jack's theme from "Countrycide". Listen to the cadence of the music and you
can't un-hear that line.No matter how many times you put it on repeat.no subject
Date: 2012-08-25 08:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 10:52 pm (UTC)Fic: A Little Overzealous, Chuck/Doctor Who
Date: 2012-08-24 12:44 am (UTC)His brain is frozen. Chuck was sure that the Irene Demova virus would work. He didn't know that someone had already traced the website and shut it down. He was just talking about it this morning. Of all the times for people to get good at taking down virus sites, they had to pick this time.
"Out," Casey grunted, starting to pull Sarah and him back to make them run to the exits. Someone had already gotten the general out and more people were running. They almost made it to the exit when they heard a weird sound filling the area.
Chuck turned back to the room to see a blue, tall box materializing, right next to the bomb. After it fully solidified, out popped a man wearing a pinstriped suit and converses. "Hello," he waved, seeing them. He turned to the bomb and pulled something silvery out of the inside of his jacket. A high buzzing came from it, which was pointed at the bomb, and the timer stopped.
"Sorry, Mickey was a little overzealous after he lost his computer to that website. I didn't quite make it to tell him that it was still needed," he explained, "I'll see you again, Charles Bartowski. Soon for me, not so soon for you." The man got back into the blue box and Chuck heard the door shut before the weird whine-like sound filled the air again and it disappeared.
"What the hell was that?" Chuck asked. Casey grunted and pulled Chuck along with him, Sarah following behind. "Who the hell was that?"
"Someone that will cost us a lot of paperwork," she muttered, pulling out a cell phone.
Re: Fic: A Little Overzealous, Chuck/Doctor Who
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From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 10:54 pm (UTC)for the best dramatic stormoff in history and mythologyno subject
Date: 2012-08-25 08:54 am (UTC)that said, although I'll try and work on a fill idk if it'll come together - sorry!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 11:07 pm (UTC)Damn I need an Indy Icon
Date: 2012-08-25 09:53 pm (UTC)He leapt through the lecture hall window, rolling into a flat-out sprint, across the campus faster than any of the athletes in the track and field team, he shoved several freshmen out of his way, and out of the vehicle's trajectory. and in a single move that must have had every muscle in his body screaming, he tackled the screaming girl and rolled thrice, and ducked down, letting the car's chassis pass right over them both.
Indy had a rope in his hand and twisted his arm, flicking the rope like his trusted bullwhip, and hit *something* under the vehicle. The car sputtered, the engine going dead, and eventually halted against the University wall, and the scattered, startled Freshers and several University lecturers all wandered over to where Indy and a Fresher girl lay, breathing hard at the close call.
"So where does a history professor learn to do that?" a colleague of Indy's asked over brandy later.
Indy shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention he'd drawn to himself. "I guess I picked it up somewhere. And I'm an archaeologist, not a historian."
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From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 11:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-23 11:38 pm (UTC)Fill - Trades Sung In Tongues
Date: 2012-08-24 12:15 am (UTC)Nor life.
Magic had its costs, too. Its trades. Magic, for its use, burrowed inside you. Holes, in your mind, in your memory. Eventually, unchecked, unbalanced, in your brain. Magic felled you, over time. Struck at you without warning. Totally fine one moment, unconscious the next. Holes in the head. That was her price, harlot that she was.
Love, though. Loved holed the heart. Struck at you without warning, yes, the same, but not with sleep. Not with absence. Not with even the slow, seeping losses of her sister magic. Love hollowed you in one blow, carved you out, and left you empty. Love holed you through, and left you bleeding.
He watched. Watched her fall, the courtesan, the woman, the sparkling diamond. Not as he fell. She, she would not be getting up. He watched, as the boy fell beside her. Holed. Hollowed. A blow to the heart, unsupportable. He watched that.
Trades. Always trades. Money for sex, trust for love, hope for freedom. Costs. Holes in the head, holes in the heart.
Nothing funny. I just like talent.
The greatest thing you'll ever learn ...
He stood in the wings, stood on the stage. Listening to the roar of the audience (truth, beauty, music), watching the death of love beneath the cover of the curtain. He stood, feeling the holes inside his head, the absence waiting to happen. And feeling, behind it, the potential.
Holes in the head ... for holes in the heart.
He smiled. Dark and bearded, standing in the wings. Magic on his lips, the taste of a hollowed heart on his tongue, life springing from his throat. The darkness waiting, from which he might not this time return. Costs. Always costs. Magic, she was the greatest harlot of all.
Do you believe in love?
Above all things.
He stood. And he smiled. And he laughed. As magic burst beneath his tongue, music from his throat, and life, holed, unhollowed, from his heart. As the darkness crashed down like a curtain, and life breathed startled in its wake, cast out on the wings of magic, and of love.
He fell, and he laughed, as the curtains drew closed around him.
For freedom. Beauty. Truth. And love.
Re: Fill - Trades Sung In Tongues
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