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singularityderp2011-02-15 10:59 pm
gawdamn.livejournal.com) wrote in singularityderp2011-02-15 10:59 pm
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EVERYTHING TAKES YOU BACK
the song drabble meme
It's pretty simple and fun, folks. This is how this works!
( 01 ) Have a playlist ready! Don't use all your songs--try and narrow it down a little.
( 02 ) Let everyone know how many songs you're working with. Also, which characters you would be willing to write about.
( 03 ) Others tag your post, picking a character or pairing or friendship or familial relationship or whatever, and then choose a number from your list.
( 01 ) Have a playlist ready! Don't use all your songs--try and narrow it down a little.
( 02 ) Let everyone know how many songs you're working with. Also, which characters you would be willing to write about.
( 03 ) Others tag your post, picking a character or pairing or friendship or familial relationship or whatever, and then choose a number from your list.
( 04 ) Write a drabble related to that song, using that/those character(s)!
- reference our previous meme if you're still confused
I WAS BULLIED INTO DOING THIS
Characters: -Kevin Flynn || (
Number of Tracks: 169
It is actually the Legacy OST repeated 8 timesNo it's notOR IS ITYAY FOR BULLIES
FUCK YEAH
123
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I am
Too tough to die
Warned by the Force, Obi-Wan jerked back as an identity disc sliced through the air where his head had been a split second before, curving to fly back to its owner's hand, wherever that was. These "programs" of Flynn's didn't have much of a signature in the Force, and in broad daylight, the glow from the discs was hard to follow. Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber and dropped into a guard stance.
"Don't bother," Flynn said. "That was Rinzler. He won't stick around if the ambush failed."
"It disturbs me this is enough of a problem for you that you can recognize who's attacking you by seeing their weapon for less than a second," Obi-Wan told him, but the Force was no longer tugging at his mind, and he extinguished his lightsaber.
"Oh, he wasn't attacking me. Game's no fun if I'm not alive to suffer." Flynn grimaced. "Sorry, man."
Obi-Wan gave him a look that would have withered a lesser person. "Charming former associates you have."
Flynn opened his mouth, obviously with a retort ready, but then an undefinable expression crossed his face as he looked at Obi-Wan, and he seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say. "Yeah. Yeah, I made some mistakes," he said. "Sometimes all the good intentions in the universe aren't enough to help you notice something happening right in front of you if you don't want to see it." Rather than the introspection one would have expected, Flynn's eyes were fixed on Obi-Wan's, and whatever was behind them was hard and terribly, terribly sad.
Some instinct more primitive than the Force told Obi-Wan not to ask.
Re: YAY FOR BULLIES
For some reason, I tend to forget all about Vader when I'm doing younger Obi-Wan...because Obi-Wan was just so blindsided by all of that stuff.
They are such BFFs.
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Re: I WAS BULLIED INTO DOING THIS
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Re: I WAS BULLIED INTO DOING THIS
Movers shakers and producers
Me and my friends understand the future
I see the strings that control the systems...
She was faster, breathtakingly so, but Flynn had a thousand years more experience. It made them an even enough match, neither able to gain much ground on the other. It didn't matter how subtle a trap was if the target could leap clear before it triggered, and it didn't matter how fast you were if your opponent had foreseen your strategy and blocked your path.
So they rampaged merrily up and down the virtual length and breadth of Sacrosanct's computer systems in a bloodthirsty yet bloodless game of hacker tag. Flynn didn't know what Kusanagi's motivation was. Boredom, perhaps. She was young (but who wasn't, compared to him) and probably accustomed to more excitement than the station provided. His own motivation he understood quite well: the sheer joy of a contest of skill with no stakes whatsoever. He'd been playing a game where the fate of worlds hung in the balance for far too long, and in a match where the consequence of losing was a mocking network post, Flynn couldn't manage to work up an emotion more serious than amusement.
When he finished the count on his beads, Flynn rose from his morning meditation and checked the damage from the night before. Sure enough, she had come crashing through his painstakingly-constructed code with a hatchet, or the digital equivalent thereof—because she could, as near as he could tell. Early on, he'd noticed that her preferred tactic was to slip in and out without raising flags, so Flynn had started pulling the holes small enough that she couldn't squeeze through undetected any more. Kusanagi had simply switched to blowing through like a tiger through a rice paper screen, in a glorious gesture of contempt for all his hard work.
Flynn tsked and started repairing his code with a smile tugging at his lips.
[I edited this because I noticed I used "rampaging" twice and it was really bugging me. ;___;]
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It can glitch out people's stuff and be a game-wide event, even. That'd be fun?
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<3
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[instrumental]
Seeing Tron with his circuitry glowing red gave Flynn that same sinking feeling as when he'd realized Sam was gone, chasing off into the City alone. It was always followed by the same renewed sense of purpose, too.
"Hey, man." Flynn greeted the program with the same casual friendliness he used on all comers. Rinzler wasn't to blame for being Rinzler, and even if he had been, one dealt with the way things were, not the way one wished them to be. The sentiment was either Zen or practicality, and the longer he studied, the more Flynn realized that the two were close enough you had to squint to tell the difference. Regardless, as long as Rinzler wasn't actively trying to put an identity disc through anyone's head, he got the same treatment as everyone else.
"You play Go?" Flynn asked. "It's a strategy game. Right up your alley." He gestured to the holographic board being displayed on the table in front of him, tapping it at one of the grid intersections to set his next stone, the computer answering instantly. The game underway was with Hypatia, or at least one with of her subroutines that had evaluated Flynn's level of play quite accurately, and gave him intellectually challenging games that he'd happily throw out in a heartbeat for one frustratingly incompetent match against Quorra.
It wasn't Flynn's fault Rinzler wasn't good with casual friendliness. The only other person who ever used it on him was Clu, and that always had a sting in the tail. He cocked his helmeted head in confusion, and rumbled at Flynn for a few seconds while deciding what to do about someone who was a designated enemy, yet was neither attacking nor running away, and was in fact asking him baffling questions. (Who was a User, who was the Creator, screamed that voice within that he could never fully quiet, and that always shouted louder when Flynn was nearby.) He concluded that in the absence of a specific order, hostile action against a target of specific interest to the Systems Administrator was outside the scope of his directives, and the tension inside him relaxed. "Clarify."
"Goal is to capture territory. If you surround an area, you control it," Flynn explained as he cleared the board with a gesture and started placing new stones, apparently in demonstration. Rinzler edged in for a closer look. This User was not a threat in combat, after all. "Multiple stones next to each other form a chain that can't be broken, but single stones or chains can be captured if you fence them in. If white plays here, black loses these two stones and white controls the territory where they used to be..."
Flynn kept talking, and Rinzler realized he didn't mind listening.
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It's bittersweet. I love it, man. <3
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THIS IS GOOD AND YOU SHOULD FEEL GOOD.
Anyway!
Flynn and Sam. 145.
Flynn and Gibson. 3.
Re: THIS IS GOOD AND YOU SHOULD FEEL GOOD.
[instrumental]
"He...didn't do badly, for someone new to the Games."
Flynn knew enough to recognize when Tron was trying to be diplomatic. The problem was that the security program was terrible at it, because it always showed in his face when he was attempting to lie by omission. "'Didn't do badly,'" Flynn repeated.
"He used innovative tactics..." Tron trailed off.
"But...?"
Tron grimaced. "He almost dropped his disc in the first match."
The subject of the conversation chose that moment to walk into the room, waving his light cycle baton around like a sword and making lightsaber noises. Flynn and Tron both stopped talking and turned to look at him. "I, uh. Didn't think anyone was home," Sam said, and quickly stuck the baton back in its holster on his thigh.
His father and Tron were both still staring at him. "...What?"
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I love it. ♥
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I feel you like electric light
The Creator was unbelievably irritating, and Gibson glared at him in the greenish gloom of Bostrum. "I'm fine."
"You're flickering." Flynn folded his arms, his own white circuitry bright and constant.
"I'm just low, is all. I'll charge up on my way out." Gibson waved off the concern.
"I dunno, man. The power out here feels a little weird." Flynn seemed distracted, concentrating on something besides the ISO he was arguing with.
"We've done a lot of modifications." Gibson spread his arms in a 'whaddya want?' gesture. "I thought you were okay with that. You called off Clu when he tried to block the Colony."
"Not that." Flynn shook his head. "Different weird."
"Thank you for that stunning insight, Flynn." Even as the words left his mouth, Gibson realized that was probably a bit too far, even for a Bostrumite. He was smarting off to the guy who could kill the power to entire Grid sectors by concentrating on it, after all.
Flynn failed to cut him down where he stood, or engage in any other wrathful actions. He just gave Gibson a dirty look. "Look. I can top you up from here. It won't hurt me, I can filter out anything that shouldn't be there, and you won't need to stop at a power station."
As little as Gibson liked to admit it, Flynn had a point. Gibson was good—really good, he corrected, unburdened by modesty in his own mind (or anywhere else, really), but he at least needed to be near one of the power flows before he could tap it. Flynn could draw from anywhere in the system at will. "If I agree, will you shut up?"
Flynn raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, yeah. Because I'll have won the argument."
It was Gibson's turn to deploy a dirty look, but then he gave up and laughed. If it hadn't been for that whole 'User' thing, Flynn seemed like he'd fit in at Bostrum. "Okay, okay." He held out his hand.
The Creator took it, and Gibson almost staggered under the rush of Grid energy that Flynn sent pouring into him. His circuits flared up a brilliant green as he absorbed the power, and he could feel the surplus that Flynn was leashing to keep from overloading him. Gibson was surprised that he could even look at Flynn's circuits without being blinded, that the program—no, the User—didn't shine like the Portal itself. For the tiniest fraction of a cycle, Gibson understood the reverence in Basics' voices when they spoke of the Creator.
Flynn dropped Gibson's hand, and Gibson just stood there, staring at him. "Yeah. It's kind of like that," Flynn said. He sounded sad. "Thanks, man. Take care of yourself." He turned toward Bostrum proper, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and Gibson, for once, didn't have anything to say as he watched the Creator walk away.
BULLYING OF LOVE???
#10. Kevin & Dillinger Sr. OH YES THAT'S RIGHT
OR
#89. Kevin & Alan, real world vs. the Grid.
Re: BULLYING OF LOVE???
[In my head, Flynn and Dillinger got along until Dillinger decided to screw him, because Flynn is almost contagiously likable, and his life is the story of him trusting everyone and then having it backfire on him spectacularly
unless that person is Alan or a direct copy of Alan. So.]This could be how you see things
This could be your life anew
Letting go to understand this
Meditation to the groove...
"Ed! Hey!" When Dillinger cleared his throat after it became apparent Flynn hadn't heard him approach over the radio blaring in the background, Flynn spun around in his chair, and his ever-present cocky grin turned a bit mocking. "It's ten at night. Why are you still wearing a tie?" Flynn himself seemed to have an almost electric repulsion for businesswear; his shed coat was close to sliding off the chairback where he'd hung it, to join the tie that was already crumpled on the carpet and in danger of being run over by the casters if Flynn were to push back from his desk.
"We can't all be from the West Coast, Flynn," Dillinger said, looking at the imperiled tie. It appeared, on closer inspection, to be covered in smiley faces.
"I'm from New Jersey," Flynn said in mock hurt, which he managed for about three seconds before cracking a grin again. "So what's up?"
"I was leaving and I heard your...music." Dillinger supposed one could call it that.
Flynn shot a glance at the radio. "Yeah, it helps me get my game on. It's like...it keeps stuff I don't need out of my head. Kinda Zen."
"Any way you want it/That's the way you need it/Any way you want it..." sang the radio.
"Yes, very...Zen."
"You okay, Ed?" Flynn asked with a hint of a frown. "Are you still banging your head on that actuarial junk? You should run it by whatsisname...Zack."
"It's nothing I can't handle," Dillinger replied, voice clipped.
"Hey." Flynn raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Everybody needs help sometimes. 'No man is an island,' or whatever. ...That guy was British, right?"
"John Donne." Despite having been the one who'd started it, Dillinger was suddenly quite finished with this conversation. Where did Flynn, a man who never bothered to show up for code reviews unless directly threatened, yet whose programs all but invariably ran right the first time, get off claiming everyone needed help? Dillinger didn't need this. "Good night, Flynn." He turned sharply and stalked off down the corridor formed by the cubicle rows.
"If you're not doing what you love, you're in the wrong line of work, Ed," Flynn called after him, his tousled head poking up from the sea of cubes, an uncharacteristically grave expression on his face. "Seriously, man, decide what it's gonna take to make you happy, then go after it." He looked at Dillinger for a long moment, the serious expression intact, then smiled. "See you tomorrow," he said, and ducked back behind the cube wall.
As Dillinger continued on the long walk to the elevator, the song on the radio changed, and Flynn started singing along, somewhere in the general vicinity of the key. Dillinger stabbed at the button and watched the display above the doors as it counted up, not fast enough. "You're the right kind of sinner to release my inner fantasieeeeeeees/The invincible winner, and you know that you were born to beeeee..."
Flynn was still singing when the doors mercifully closed off the sound.
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Poor Flynn just never gets that not everybody loves him from the get-go. Oh well. He learns. (And then still gets fooled again.) He's cocky and egotistical but yet he still is too nice for his own good.
...sometimes he's almost worst than Alan. >.>;
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oh my god i am so late sdkjgladskhOMG
OMG
I have just headcanoned the SHIT out of this beauty right here. THIS IS SO GREAT AHHHHHH
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Re: BULLYING OF LOVE???
[This takes place in the AU where Flynn isn't a complete moron and tells Alan what's going on.]
I'm gonna get myself connected.
I ain't gonna go blind
For the light that is reflected.
Hear me out.
Can ya hear me out...
"This is ridiculous even for you, Flynn," Alan said to his friend's back, straightening up after he'd emerged from the tunnel behind the Tron arcade game.
"Hey, look, I told you to wear comfortable clothes," Flynn said as he pulled open a set of double doors labeled 'Danger: Electrical Room.' Alan grumbled—slacks and a dress shirt were comfortable—but followed Flynn into the underground brick room.
"That is Lora's laser," Alan said.
"No, it's a duplicate. Sit-sit-sit." Flynn gestured to a chair in front of a mainframe. Alan gave him a sidelong glance, but Flynn just grinned and bounced on his toes. Alan gave up with a sigh and sat. Humoring Flynn generally worked out in the long run, even if it was intensely frustrating in the short one. Flynn reached over Alan's shoulder and tapped out a series of commands one-handed. "Choose a password."
"You're not going to explain any of this, are you?" The question was rhetorical, and they both knew it. User "Alan1" thought for a moment and set his password.
"Okay, man." Flynn was suddenly much more serious, but the mischief still glittered behind his eyes. "This is gonna be pretty weird, but it's safe, I swear. I do it all the time. When you come through, just step out of the way and I'll be along in a couple minutes."
"Come through to where? There's only one door to this roo—never mind. Just do whatever it is you're planning." Alan threw his hands up in about as much gesticulation as he ever did, and leaned back in the chair. Flynn grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, and Alan rolled his eyes but couldn't quite suppress all of a smile. Flynn entered a few more commands, then took a long step back. "'Aperture clear?' Flynn, what the he—"
The world turned itself inside out in a burst of light, and Alan was...sitting at the desk, still? No. The room was the same, but different, all sleek and black, and his clothes had turned sleek and black, as well. Alan stood up and rolled the chair back into place under the desk in an automatic tidy habit. It was dark and he couldn't make out much, but he set out to...retrace? his steps. Flynn had promised things were safe, and it never for a second occurred to Alan to doubt him.
There was no bending double to fit through Flynn's crazy secret passage this time. The hallway had a respectable, non-secret door that led out into what Alan wasn't surprised to discover was the arcade, rendered in sleek black with blue-white accent lighting. It was deserted, but there was sound and light coming from where the street should be. Alan pushed open the door, stepped onto the sidewalk—and stopped short as an actual light cycle zipped by in the road.
"Flynn, you were serious." Alan went to adjust his glasses as he gawked at the impossible buildings rearing into the dark, and realized he wasn't wearing any. People—programs? passing by, their clothes black with glowing lines of various colors like everything else, slowed down to gawk at him, but when they got a look at his face, they smiled and nodded with what Alan didn't think he was imagining was respect, then continued on their way. He was so distracted by the delighted shock of realizing he was on Flynn's Grid that he didn't notice the person coming up behind him until a clipped voice demanded, "Identify, program. This is a restricted area."
Alan started, then turned to explain himself to the cop. Police apparently looked and sounded the same inside a computer as they did anywhere. Before he could speak, however, the program's eyes widened and he snapped to what various movies had taught Alan was attention. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't recognize you with your circuitry off. Do you require any assista—"
[tl;dr, apparently. continued...]
Re: BULLYING OF LOVE???
"So. What do you think?" This was Flynn at his most smug, but Alan couldn't begrudge him. "...Wait. Don't tell me until you've seen it from the sky. Our ride's on its way." He jerked a thumb at the enormous floating machine that was approaching from over the rooftops.
"...Space Paranoids?" Alan gaped. A vehicle that no quirk of physics would let fly in the real world drove everything home, and he looked helplessly at Flynn, at a loss for what to do but stare.
"Yeah, well, I had the code kicking around. They're on our side this time." Flynn's hand tightened on Alan's shoulder. "I've been waiting to show you this for ages, my friend. C'mon." Flynn steered him toward where the Recognizer was maneuvering in for a landing. "We'll get you a disc, and then there's someone you have to meet."
Alan couldn't for the life of him figure out why Flynn's smile had gotten even wider.
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THE BULLIES LOVE YOU?
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[instrumental]
Warning: WE CAN'T STOP HERE, THIS IS FOURTH WALL COUNTRY.
Flynn never gave Anon the feeling he was unwelcome when their paths crossed, but it was rare that the User actually summoned him (Flynn would have called it an "invitation," but something always got lost in translation with programs), which was as it should be, because the Creator doubtless had more important things to do than talk to the Monitor. Anon had only the vaguest conception of what those things might be, but with the sublime confidence of a child or someone who was totally wrong, he was quite certain they existed.
"In here!" Flynn's voice came from several rooms away. It had never occurred to Anon to wonder how Flynn had acquired the building he now lived in when he seemed to spend most of his time not doing anything that even vaguely resembled work. He was the Creator. Of course he could have whatever he wanted.
"Have a seat, man. You are not going to believe what I found," Flynn said from the couch, not turning around as Anon entered the room. Anon hesitated for a moment to process this directive, but it was quite clear. So he circled around and sat down what he hoped was a courteous distance away from Flynn—which was to say, as far away as the couch allowed. This resulted in a skeptical look from his User, but no comment, so Anon decided it was good enough.
"Check this out." Flynn grinned in the way Anon had learned meant he was very happy with his work. (Anyone else would have said 'smug as hell.') With a couple of quick gestures, Flynn started the playback of a video file on the opposite wall. There was some green text on a black background that Anon could read but made no sense to him, and then—it said 'Tron!' And then it showed an image of a program with blue circuitry for a moment before changing to abstract pictures that formed into something that reminded him of the Grid. Anon cocked his head at Flynn in puzzlement. "Don't look at me, look at the screen," the User said with a laugh.
Anon leaned forward as the picture changed again. He recognized what must have been the User world version of Flynn's arcade, and then first-generation light cycles on a strange, primitive Game Grid. What was this? Was it the old system? Hopelessly lost, he gave Flynn a pleading look.
"I could go for some popcorn," said Creator.
["Finale" plays over the second half of the credits, so I just went with "movie." I don't even know.]
Re: THE BULLIES LOVE YOU?
I almost want this to happen in-game. They could drag Tron with them to watch TRON!
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