FREEDOM FREEDOM FREEDOM OY!
Nov. 5th, 2012 06:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinetzinWith my trusty coffeesuperhero at my side, I present to you the
LOOK THE OTHER WAY THINGATHON!
What is this, I hear you asking me (or perhaps that is just the voices)? This is our bunker, children. This is the festival for people who cannot take one minute more of US election coverage, who really need a place to put their fingers in their ears and go LA LA LA LA LA until the election is over.
Eligibility Rules: To play, one of the following needs to apply to you:
1. You are a US citizen ineligible to vote (too young, etc, we will even take convicted felons).
2. You are not a US citizen.
3. You already voted early/absentee.
4. You will vote on election day.
WE DO NOT DICK AROUND ON THE INTERNET INSTEAD OF VOTING. We vote and THEN we dick around on the internet.
Post whatever you like in the comments, prompts, art, flashfic, picspams, gifs, w/e. We're not fussed about ratings, but you must warn in your subject line for gore or noncon. It's helpful if you put whatever you're posting (e.g. "Prompt" or "Fic") in the subject line of your comment.
ABSOLUTELY NOTHING POLITICAL IN NATURE, REAL WORLD OR FICTIONAL. No characters going to the polls, nobody endorsing any candidate, no political fandoms (sorry West Wing and fake news RPF fans). The most political thing we will allow is Captain America, and even then you better watch your step.
This ficathon will end whenever it ends. WE NEED ALL THE HELP WE CAN GET.
ETA:
FOUR MORE YEARS
The doors to the bunker are flung open, and the -thon remains open. GO FORTH MY CHILDREN
coffeesuperhero at my side, I present to you theLOOK THE OTHER WAY THINGATHON!
What is this, I hear you asking me (or perhaps that is just the voices)? This is our bunker, children. This is the festival for people who cannot take one minute more of US election coverage, who really need a place to put their fingers in their ears and go LA LA LA LA LA until the election is over.
Eligibility Rules: To play, one of the following needs to apply to you:
1. You are a US citizen ineligible to vote (too young, etc, we will even take convicted felons).
2. You are not a US citizen.
3. You already voted early/absentee.
4. You will vote on election day.
WE DO NOT DICK AROUND ON THE INTERNET INSTEAD OF VOTING. We vote and THEN we dick around on the internet.
Post whatever you like in the comments, prompts, art, flashfic, picspams, gifs, w/e. We're not fussed about ratings, but you must warn in your subject line for gore or noncon. It's helpful if you put whatever you're posting (e.g. "Prompt" or "Fic") in the subject line of your comment.
ABSOLUTELY NOTHING POLITICAL IN NATURE, REAL WORLD OR FICTIONAL. No characters going to the polls, nobody endorsing any candidate, no political fandoms (sorry West Wing and fake news RPF fans). The most political thing we will allow is Captain America, and even then you better watch your step.
This ficathon will end whenever it ends. WE NEED ALL THE HELP WE CAN GET.
ETA:
FOUR MORE YEARS
The doors to the bunker are flung open, and the -thon remains open. GO FORTH MY CHILDREN
(no subject)
Date: 2012-11-06 03:52 am (UTC)Fic: Beaver Fever
Date: 2012-11-07 07:40 pm (UTC)"Bruciekins!" Tony greets him with an arm thrown around his shoulder, steering Bruce and his rolling suitcase together into the lounge. "Did you enjoy your stay in America's hat?"
Thor looked in confusion at Jane, who leaned across the table and whispered an explanation, "Bruce just got back from a research trip to Canada--that's the country to the north of here. It covers a larger geographic area than the United States but has a much lower population."
"Was it cold?" Tony barrelled enthusiastically forward without waiting for an answer to his previous question.
Bruce snorted. "Well, it was Toronto in July, so no, not at all."
Tony flopped down on a low sofa and patted the seat next to him, still grinning. "Did you sleep in an igloo?"
Bruce slowly lowered himself to the cushion next to Tony. "I slept in the hotel JARVIS booked for me."
"Did you run into Rogers' Canadian cousin?"
" . . . Captain Canada?" Bruce frowned.
"Dudley Do-Right."
"Ah." Bruce rolled his eyes. "Fortunately not, as he is a fictional character."
"What aboot Celine Dion?"
"I thought she moved to Las Vegas? And I don't think I've ever heard an actual Canadian say 'aboot' like that."
"I'll bet you got stuck to a maple tree."
"I don't know if there are that many sugar maples in Toronto? I think they mostly grow farther east. Also, tapping season is in the winter and you actually have to stick a spiggot into the tree to get at the sap and then render that into syrup. They don't just, like, ooze . . ." Bruce trailed off when he saw the way Tony had begun to pout. "What?"
"You're shattering all my illusions, here, Brucie darling. Really rocking the foundations of my worldview."
"Fine." Bruce sighed and bit his lip, his body language shifting subtly from his usual 'deadpan' to something closer to 'deadly serious'. "There was one day . . . I had to get from Edmonton to Halifax for a meeting, so I rented a moose to get me there, and as I was riding it across the tundra we got trapped in this freak blizzard--no warning, total whiteout. I had to trust my moose to know where he was going, because I couldn't see a thing. I just hunkered down into his fur to keep warm and shut my eyes to block out the snow . . . and then I heard it. Far away at first, then closer, and closer still." Bruce paused and slapped his palms against his thighs, clap, clap, clap-clap. Thor found himself leaning forward, captivated, his breakfast all but forgotten.
Bruce licked his lips and continued, "they were all around us, signalling to each other with their tails as they closed us in. Wayne, the moose, bucked and threw me and ran off into the storm, I lost sight of him almost immediately. And then they were on me, dozens of them, with their beady little eyes and leathery tails and their sharp, chisel teeth, shaking the snow from their wet, glistening fur . . . The Other Guy managed to run them off, but by then it was already too late." Bruce's eyes scrunched shut and he curled in on himself, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm infected, Tony. They bit me. I've got . . . I've got Beaver Fever."
Thor jumped, startled, as Tony lost his internal struggle to keep a straight face and guffawed, laughing so violently that Bruce had to remove his glasses to wipe flecks of spittle off them with his shirt. "Let me get somebody over here to help you out with that." Tony turned away from Bruce to lean over the arm of the couch, snapping his fingers for JARVIS to activate the nearest camera. "Hey, Pepper?"
Jane rolled her eyes and wiped toast crumbs from her fingers disapprovingly, suggesting that Tony had said something crass and unfunny. Thor prepared to give him a disappointed look when Tony turned back around and shrieked.
"What did you--" Tony jibbered from the floor where he'd landed, pushing awkwardly up onto his elbows to glare at Bruce.
"'Hi, Tony,'" Bruce squeaked, wiggling the head of the beaver puppet he'd shoved in Tony's face and waving its plush little paw.
"You son of a . . ." Tony pushed up onto his knees and shoved Bruce by the shoulders into the back of the couch before standing up. "Why are its teeth red?"
Bruce frowned at the puppet, which scratched its fluffy rodent head. "Oh, that's from the ketchup chips Barton asked me to bring back for him. I got bored in the airport, decided to try a few. You know they're not nearly as nasty as you'd think."
Tony sighed and pulled the beaver puppet off of Bruce's hand before he hugged him. "I really wish I could say the same thing about you."
Re: Fic: Beaver Fever
Date: 2012-11-08 04:12 am (UTC)Re: Fic: Beaver Fever
Date: 2012-11-08 04:16 am (UTC)