(no subject)
*I wanted to draw a scene from Kidnapped featuring Troughton and Hines as Alan and David, but there are too many good bits of the story to decide on one (and no time to draw them all, orz). I also want to draw oldskool Tron characters, more Trigun characters, more Naruto characters, and more characters in general, and there's still stuff to do for fandom_stocking and some letters to send when the post office is actually open and I can run around taking pictures of the snow. So much fun stuff to do. My life is so haaaard. *melodramatic sigh*
*Via @neilhimself: Amazon is selling uranium ore. (The comments are the best part.)
*Late link is late, but am still giggling forever and ever and ever at
eponymous_rose's picspam of Honey, I Shrunk The Hovercraft the DS9 episode One Little Ship.
*Science links: MRI of fruits and vegetables; a real-life exoskeleton suit (and a kiddie version of same); high-res image of the Airplane Graveyard; Martian sunsets are blue.
*And a fic.
This fic... was mostly written to Tron tracks and random youtubed 8bit music, neglected for two weeks while I mulled over the new movie, and finally finished, and is all ladyrazorsharp's fault for the mental image. :D And I owe many thanks to
blackcat for correcting my technical language.~
Fandoms: NCIS/TRON (classic, NO Legacy spoilers)
Genre: G, lulz, harmless oneshot
Summary: "You're not going to like this, but I found our missing petty officer."
Title:
Trace
>GIBBS GIBBSGIBBSGIBBS
>Abs?
>This had better be you.
>YOU'RE NOT GOING TO LIKE THIS BUT I FOUND OUR MISSING PETTY OFFICER
>WHERE ARE Y3OU, ABBY?
>That machine in the warehouse turn it on right now!!!!
>What
>JUST DO IT. AND THEN BRACE YOURSELF.
>Actually bracing yourself won't really help.
>Gibbs?
(o.O)
There was gravity, or something like it, returning so suddenly that Gibbs staggered. Something red flashed past and he launched himself away from it, running instinctively in the direction of Abby's yell. Light clashed and snapped, eye-stabbing in the dimness, and he looked in time to see some kind of giant black centipede with glowing yellow stripes shatter in a shower of sparks. A bright blue disk darted out of the wreckage, arced swiftly around him, and landed neatly in Abby's hand, and then she was tackling him tightly around the neck and yelling, "Yesss! Got 'im! Sciuto, one; evil worm thing, zero!"
Their helmets clunked together as he hugged her back. He resolutely ignored the implications of that. If this crazy dream had put him in the same sort of outfit she was wearing, he didn't want to know.
"What are you doing here, Abs?" he demanded.
Abby spoke rapidly, leading him across the echoing floor. "The system just sucked me in, like it did Private Carroll. That's how it happened! That's why there was no evidence of a break-in -- he was dematerialized literally quark by quark and sucked into the computer world! It's really more of a pocket computer world, sort of like a pocket universe, completely self-contained, we're totally cut off from the cloud, and it's a tiny one, maybe a prototype, there isn't much here -- but still, isn't this the coolest thing ever? I mean, some of this technology is insanely advanced, it could transform entertainment, transportation, solve the housing crisis, challenge our conception of of reality, everything, like, imagine if--"
He held a finger to her lips. First things first.
"Where's Private Carroll?"
"He'll be fine. I got our security and diagnostic program to take him up to the IO tower and McGee can get him home from there. It'd be the same way as he got in, only backwards."
"You got a program," he repeated, "to take him up?"
"Yeah! McGee and I had to analyze the machine, right? The program was still down here when it pulled me in." And she was off again, the glowing patterns on her jumpsuit pulsing in time with her excitement. He gave her a look, and she stopped again, her eyes still dancing.
"I know what you're going to ask next, Gibbs. How do we get back--" she waved her hand mysteriously -- "to the real world."
He nodded, fighting down a smile. "You gonna tell me, or would you rather stay down here?"
"Trust me," said Abby. "You do not want to know the details."
"Guess I don't. But I do--" pointing past her -- "want to know how McGee's going to get us out if he's down here with us."
She didn't even turn around, simply waved for McGee to approach. His field agent walking around in skin-tight body armor printed with glowing circuitry -- there was yet another thing that had not been on his list of things to see when he started his day. This isn't one of your science fiction conventions, Tim.
"Actually, Gibbs, this isn't McGee."
"How is that not McGee?"
"You left him back in the warehouse, remember? Gibbs, meet Xqrfl V3.0.99988. He's the program I was telling you about."
"The pleasure's all mine, sir."
It looked like McGee. It sounded like McGee. It -- he? -- even had McGee's nervous smile as Gibbs leaned into his personal space, stared through to wherever he kept his brainstem, and replied levelly, "Yeah, it is."
"Gibbs!" scolded Abby. "Don't intimidate him; he's here to help!"
"Too late," said Xqrfl. "I'm from network security, remember? We're still wondering what you did to your last iPhone. Not that we track your activity. Any more than anyone else. Um."
Abby had them both by the arms and was hauling them along the corridor, or canyon, or whatever it was, under a blackness that wasn't sky, streaked with glowing contrails that probably weren't that either. And even though she had to know that by the time they did get out, Trent Kort would probably have shown up with curled lip and instructions to take the machine straight to that Pentagon room out of Indiana Jones, where it would never be seen again until somebody reinvented it, she was still smiling.
He had a feeling he was about to find out why.
They turned the corner, and his vision was filled with wings.
"Gibbs," she said proudly, "meet the Solar Sailer."
_____
Originally posted on Dreamwidth. There are
comments there so far.
*Via @neilhimself: Amazon is selling uranium ore. (The comments are the best part.)
*Late link is late, but am still giggling forever and ever and ever at
eponymous_rose's picspam of Honey, I Shrunk The Hovercraft the DS9 episode One Little Ship.
*Science links: MRI of fruits and vegetables; a real-life exoskeleton suit (and a kiddie version of same); high-res image of the Airplane Graveyard; Martian sunsets are blue.
*And a fic.
This fic... was mostly written to Tron tracks and random youtubed 8bit music, neglected for two weeks while I mulled over the new movie, and finally finished, and is all ladyrazorsharp's fault for the mental image. :D And I owe many thanks to
blackcat for correcting my technical language.~
Fandoms: NCIS/TRON (classic, NO Legacy spoilers)
Genre: G, lulz, harmless oneshot
Summary: "You're not going to like this, but I found our missing petty officer."
Title:
Trace
>GIBBS GIBBSGIBBSGIBBS
>Abs?
>This had better be you.
>YOU'RE NOT GOING TO LIKE THIS BUT I FOUND OUR MISSING PETTY OFFICER
>WHERE ARE Y3OU, ABBY?
>That machine in the warehouse turn it on right now!!!!
>What
>JUST DO IT. AND THEN BRACE YOURSELF.
>Actually bracing yourself won't really help.
>Gibbs?
(o.O)
There was gravity, or something like it, returning so suddenly that Gibbs staggered. Something red flashed past and he launched himself away from it, running instinctively in the direction of Abby's yell. Light clashed and snapped, eye-stabbing in the dimness, and he looked in time to see some kind of giant black centipede with glowing yellow stripes shatter in a shower of sparks. A bright blue disk darted out of the wreckage, arced swiftly around him, and landed neatly in Abby's hand, and then she was tackling him tightly around the neck and yelling, "Yesss! Got 'im! Sciuto, one; evil worm thing, zero!"
Their helmets clunked together as he hugged her back. He resolutely ignored the implications of that. If this crazy dream had put him in the same sort of outfit she was wearing, he didn't want to know.
"What are you doing here, Abs?" he demanded.
Abby spoke rapidly, leading him across the echoing floor. "The system just sucked me in, like it did Private Carroll. That's how it happened! That's why there was no evidence of a break-in -- he was dematerialized literally quark by quark and sucked into the computer world! It's really more of a pocket computer world, sort of like a pocket universe, completely self-contained, we're totally cut off from the cloud, and it's a tiny one, maybe a prototype, there isn't much here -- but still, isn't this the coolest thing ever? I mean, some of this technology is insanely advanced, it could transform entertainment, transportation, solve the housing crisis, challenge our conception of of reality, everything, like, imagine if--"
He held a finger to her lips. First things first.
"Where's Private Carroll?"
"He'll be fine. I got our security and diagnostic program to take him up to the IO tower and McGee can get him home from there. It'd be the same way as he got in, only backwards."
"You got a program," he repeated, "to take him up?"
"Yeah! McGee and I had to analyze the machine, right? The program was still down here when it pulled me in." And she was off again, the glowing patterns on her jumpsuit pulsing in time with her excitement. He gave her a look, and she stopped again, her eyes still dancing.
"I know what you're going to ask next, Gibbs. How do we get back--" she waved her hand mysteriously -- "to the real world."
He nodded, fighting down a smile. "You gonna tell me, or would you rather stay down here?"
"Trust me," said Abby. "You do not want to know the details."
"Guess I don't. But I do--" pointing past her -- "want to know how McGee's going to get us out if he's down here with us."
She didn't even turn around, simply waved for McGee to approach. His field agent walking around in skin-tight body armor printed with glowing circuitry -- there was yet another thing that had not been on his list of things to see when he started his day. This isn't one of your science fiction conventions, Tim.
"Actually, Gibbs, this isn't McGee."
"How is that not McGee?"
"You left him back in the warehouse, remember? Gibbs, meet Xqrfl V3.0.99988. He's the program I was telling you about."
"The pleasure's all mine, sir."
It looked like McGee. It sounded like McGee. It -- he? -- even had McGee's nervous smile as Gibbs leaned into his personal space, stared through to wherever he kept his brainstem, and replied levelly, "Yeah, it is."
"Gibbs!" scolded Abby. "Don't intimidate him; he's here to help!"
"Too late," said Xqrfl. "I'm from network security, remember? We're still wondering what you did to your last iPhone. Not that we track your activity. Any more than anyone else. Um."
Abby had them both by the arms and was hauling them along the corridor, or canyon, or whatever it was, under a blackness that wasn't sky, streaked with glowing contrails that probably weren't that either. And even though she had to know that by the time they did get out, Trent Kort would probably have shown up with curled lip and instructions to take the machine straight to that Pentagon room out of Indiana Jones, where it would never be seen again until somebody reinvented it, she was still smiling.
He had a feeling he was about to find out why.
They turned the corner, and his vision was filled with wings.
"Gibbs," she said proudly, "meet the Solar Sailer."
_____
Originally posted on Dreamwidth. There are
comments there so far.