the always open post v 3.0

[exastris_scientia]

get drunk on the good life, i'll take you to paradise.




1. pick a character and tag them in the subject line.
2. post pictures, starters, whatevs
3. profit!

Comments

[poolhall_killer]

[It's been four months. Or six. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Venom was convinced that he didn't deserve any kind of happiness. He lost Lord Zato, and then he forged a close friendship with Robo Ky, only to watch him sacrifice himself.

Then there was Jim. The only man who treated him like a human being. Even thinking of his handsome face and infectious smile brought a little light and hope into the assassin's shadowy life. But it never lasts. All he can really do is remember him and cling to the Starfleet insignia badge that was left behind.

As he examined an ancient temple, he swept those thoughts aside. Time to do some deeper exploring.]

[caelus]

[ Jim refused to count any further than three months gone by. He'd found himself in this place, the other left so far ahead or behind or whatever it had been that he decided that it was no longer within reach.

There had been few others, sparse groups of weary travelers and lost souls scattered throughout this world that they've found themselves in. Very few seemed to take it as their own, though it did bear striking similarities to many of them. Even Jim. The magic had been the most odd of the additions. While he'd seen Venom's in action, even in use while moving with him in one direction to another, putting it to practice was far more difficult. He'd glimpsed the other man from afar, this other Venom. He had to be different, right? He'd know---wouldn't he?

But the solid lump of upset and the nagging thoughts of abandonment in his own mind were clouding things, he knew. Would he really know him if he kept his distance? No.

Which is why he stops staring at the guy from the top of the hill, and lets gravity start before he carefully helps his descent along with a little bit of magic. It's nowhere near as smooth as he remembers from the former assassin, but it gets the job done. His stop is even less smooth, and he has to jog a couple of steps to slow down. He's in a black leather jacket, grey shirt, dark jeans and boots.

He's still a safe amount of distance from Venom. He's learned to be wary, this place brings people of all sorts from all kinds of places. ]

If you make a habit of going into places like that on your own here, you're just asking for trouble.

[ Not that he cares. Except he totally does. Just---well, again, it isn't like this is the Venom he knew. ]

[poolhall_killer]

[The reprimand just earns this man a huff, though internally Venom's heart does a backflip. He knows Jim's voice anywhere, but after all he's been through, he's learned to not get so attached.]

My entire life's fueled by it. This will be no different.

[The floating wasn't lost on him, either. The Jim he knew and maybe loved had no such magic.]

[caelus]

[ Yeah, he didn't miss that. It's hard to look at him, though, especially being as close as he is now. He remembers things---well, things that you just don't talk about in polite company with probable strangers.

But that does earn a soft scoff in response. He sounds so much like the man he'd met at first. Way too uptight. Then again, he guesses he's not exactly the guy that his---well, they never got around to boyfriend, did they? Anyways, he's just not the same as he was. Not that it matters. ]

It'll be different when it collapses on you. Or some ancient whatever the hell gets pissed off and does something about it.

[ But if that's the case, why is Jim there? Well, he always was too curious for his own good, and kind of a glutton for punishment. ]

So, which one of us is knocking first?

[ And maybe, just maybe, there's a hint of mischief in his eyes and in the carefree smile that comes to his face. ]

[poolhall_killer]

[That smile... the one Venom loved to see when he came home, the one that made him smile. The one that made the young assassin want to pull Jim into his arms and kiss him deeply.

It strikes him right to the core, but on the outside Venom's as placid as possible.]

It wouldn't be the first time.

I don't mind going, but if you insist.

for luci, of course!!

[shadowblends]

[mindmeld]

[ The Enterprise is always cold.

Usually, ninety-nine percent of the time, Spock can ignore the ambient temperature. His uniform is made of a thermal material designed to keep warm on the bridge, his quarters are warm enough, and he is a Vulcan, capable of adjusting to extremes. The cold is not ideal for them but the Vulcan way is not one of ease, and so Spock adjusts. Adjusted.

At least, he had until this point: when he arises twelve point three minutes before Alpha shift begins, one hour and forty-seven point seven minutes later than is customary. Spock can count the number of times he has overslept on one hand, and they all involve sick bay and Vulcan healing trances.

He is also freezing.

With some remote horror at the fact that he overslept, Spock has to scramble to prepare for the day and misses his morning meditation. He spends only fifteen minutes on it, when he can, so it is not vital, but as he approaches the Bridge, he feels slightly more agitated than normal, the swirl of confusing emotions he often has to grapple with closer to the surface.

He also leaves his quarters with only two minutes to spare to make it to his post. Spock is always early unless an emergency meant he was away from the bridge. That will not happen.

Spock nearly makes it to the bridge, only to stop and snap at one ensign for a collar that is exactly three centimeters off regulation. He watches as the ensign scrambles down the hall, adjusting his shirt, aware that he is too annoyed for something as simple as a collar and yet unable to contain the emotion.

Knowing he does not want to be on the bridge, Spock turns on his heel to march to the science labs, even as he opens his comm to page Jim. ]

Captain, I will not be on the bridge today. There are experiments that require my attention.

[caelus]

[ Jim has had a mild, unsettling irritation humming through him like the deck of a space freighter for days now. He'd found an easy temperament that complemented him in his older years, and took him light years from his younger, more reckless self. This did not lend to that in the slightest, and what was more frustrating was the lack of a reason as to why.

It only serves to grow as time goes on. It rises sharply in the space between one breath and the next and he finds himself half ready to bark at his communicator when it dares to chirp politely at him. Spock's voice comes over the comms, and he grits his teeth in frustration at what he says. ]

Commander, that's---I don't remember reading a briefing about any experiments that needed your attention so quickly, and I have an ensign here who is very ready to get off their duty shift.

[ It isn't like the other man to be late. Well, technically he isn't late yet, and Jim is actually early due to restless energy. Still, this is later than he usually is. ]

I'll meet you in the science labs to discuss it. Kirk out.

[ He doesn't need to have this conversation on the bridge in full hearing of the crew. He has Sulu take the conn, and directs another officer to relieve the ensign he'd just mentioned to Spock. This doesn't do anything to ease the tension winding under his skin, but he has to keep his cool with this. It isn't normal. This isn't a regular occurrence that requires counseling on his part, but it does require a conversation when it is the commander's duty station for the day.

He heads off of the bridge, leaving his coffee behind at his chair. ]

[mindmeld]

[ There have been plenty of times where Spock has wanted to snap at the captain. Well, snap is too strong of a word. He has voiced objections to his captain's actions, pointing out the illogic in them accordingly. And he has snapped, from time to time, because they are both strong-willed, stubborn men. But it's always been in situations where tensions are high and more a warning than anything else.

And yet, Spock finds himself wanting to snap at Kirk, tell him to shut up and that simply because he isn't aware of the experiments doesn't mean they do not exist. Spock knows well that Jim tries to stay abreast of his experiments, of all the experiments in the labs - even those Spock conducts in his off time, as personal experiments and not just those done for Starfleet. He has to clench his jaw not to bark out a sharp objection - and before he can offer a name of someone to take his shift, Kirk is already dismissing him.

Spock snaps his own comm shut and stalks off toward the labs, only to tuck himself into a quiet, remote corner, computer in front of him, and nothing to disturb him.

Well. That's the goal. Instead, he is aware of every footstep around him, the quiet hum of the Enterprise, the ambient air temperature, and growing increasingly more agitated as time passes.

Spock knows what is wrong with him; there are too many complications for it not to be this - this thing that will strip from him the veneer of civilization.

He's managed to get his trembling hands under control by the time Jim finds him, but none of the information on the computers in front of him has made it into his conscious mind. ]

[caelus]

[ Jim doesn't know, he isn't aware of what it is that is causing him to be suddenly so anxious these past few days. He doesn't get why Spock is suddenly so distant and downright testy for a Vulcan.

It doesn't take him long to make his way down to the Science Labs, and find Spock there. He excuses the other officers and crewmen in the room with a gentle dismissal, and finally approaches his First Officer. ]

Do you care to explain just what's going on, Spock?

[mindmeld]

I do not, Captain.

[ Vulcans do not speak of this, and Spock strives to be as Vulcan as possible. But even failing that, Spock is a private individual, and this is a matter of great shame.

He's aware they are alone, heard Jim dismiss everyone. He could almost see the curious, speculative faces of the crew, even though his back has been turned the entire time. Even with it being just the two of them, he does not want to discuss this. Or even look at Jim, if he is honest.

Instead, he focuses on the screen in front of him, hands tightly gripping the console. ]

[goldsteins]

[ December 12, 1926 - ]

Dougal?

[ The laughter is undeniable in the woman's voice echoing from inside of the shed that bridged the many ecosystems from outside of the case. It is not the first time in the last week she's entered the case, nor is it the first time she went in on her own. Never for any other reason than to find the man and tell him it was dinner time of that the President had sent an owl. Today presented neither of those options and it seemed the demiguise had some inkling of it. ]

What is it, huh?

[ Tina speaks to the Demiguise much more lightly than she did most humans. Heaving a breath before she collapsed her arms around the creature who'd already decidedly climbed up her. It seemed Dougal at least liked her, but she wasn't too sure about any of the other creatures in the case.] Alright, then, we're go and find Newt together.

[Still all too amused and fond does she hold the demiguise more carefully as she navigates the rest of the way through the shed. A backwards glance up the stairs tells her that the case is locked and nothing should escape, before she turns her attention forward. Dark eyes glanced towards the creature in her hands before she huffed, moving to slowly take the steps down from the shed.]

Don't you think it'd be easier if you just let me hold your hand, eh?

[She doesn't sound too bothered by it and if she was Dougal did not seem interested in moving. Instead the pad of a paw came to brush against her cheekbone and the woman huffed another laugh. A week ago she would never have thought she'd find herself in a situation like this much less be amused by it.]

Guess!

[nikolaievich]

i have no idea who gosh

[exactmaps]

[ After everything that had happened since being here, he had thought they had reached a point that they could manage without too much upset. They could, Napoleon had found, at least until he'd ended up bored and more or less looking for something to do. Or rather, trouble, as most would put it. He hadn't intended to get hurt, but he had been.

After, Clark had picked him up from the hospital, and taken him back to the farm. He had thought he'd asked for him to wake him up when they got there. He thought that was what the hand on his shoulder must have been, but he awoke to the face of a very stern Russian looming over him in a bed he didn't remember getting into. ]

Peril?

[ He shifted in order to try and sit up, but winced as he did. It was probably time for him to take more medicine. He didn't even know how long he'd been out. ]

Is there a particular reason why you've found it necessary to loom over me as I sleep?

I am very mysterious

[nikolaievich]

I am not looming. [Illya says, as he looms.

Look, he’s not doing it on purpose or even consciously. If pushed he would admit he isn’t even mad at Solo, not really. Or at least not any more mad than he is on a daily basis thanks to his cowboy antics. But that doesn’t make watching Solo being so visibly hurt any easier.

Solo’s as private as Illya is, although in a very different way. Solo wouldn’t show any weakness unless he had to, and definitely not to the Kents. Definitely not to Martha, since Solo seems hyperaware of how he looks like her son and he wouldn’t want to upset her.]

And do not move. You hurt your arm badly.

[There may be a slight accusing tone in that sentence. Maybe.]

What do you need?

it's a talent, i can tell

[exactmaps]

Of course you aren't.

[ It's telling, the state he's in, just by the fact that he isn't willing to argue more with him. He's been hurt worse before. Granted, that was torture and not something he cares to experience again anytime soon. It's a different kind of pain. A different kind of situation.

This had been an altercation with some unsavory individuals who clearly didn't have a good enough grasp of the modern vernacular to want to talk this out like gentlemen. Solo is extremely good with a gun, even if he doesn't care to use it unless he has to. Hand to hand is something he'd rather leave to the Red Peril.

His unfortunate encounter had already visibly upset Clark, who had admitted him to the hospital, and the last thing he wanted was to burden Martha Kent with the knowledge of what had transpired.

He settles back at Illya's insistence, offering a sigh of frustration in response, and tries to relax. It isn't working that well. He doesn't do well with bed rest. ]

I would say that I left them something to remember me by, but it wasn't nearly as glamorous as all that.

[ His pride nearly causes him to remain quiet past that. To just stay silent until Illya relents and lets him do it on his own. The only problem? He knows he won't win that particular battle. ]

My prescription, if it's time for it. I'm not sure how long I've been out.

[ Not that he cares for that part of this either. It'll only addle his mind and slow his thinking. If he needs to be up quickly for any reason, this will impede that. ]

[nikolaievich]

[Illya nods as he quickly reaches for the prescription. ‘If he’s in pain’, the doctor had told Clark but if Solo is asking for something that he knows will dull his mind then he’s very obviously in pain. He isn’t even arguing with Illya, that’s a symptom on it’s own. It’s kind of unsettling to see Solo like this. Even after dealing with Victoria, even after literal torture he had managed to stay calm. Keep to himself. It was like nothing affected him.

Illya isn’t sure how he’s supposed to react to this side of Solo.]

Only a few hours. Clark said I should let you sleep. [‘Wait until he wakes up to yell at him’, had been his exact words. And then he’d just smiled that smile of his when Illya claimed he wasn’t going to yell. Illya honestly doesn’t know why he likes Clark so much.]

Maybe it would have gone over better if you hadn’t been alone.

for farpoint

[caelus]

[ For all of the missions they've been on, all of the horrors they've witnessed as a crew, and the odds they failed to stack up against but still managed to overcome, Jim hadn't thought that this would be how he'd end up going out. Alone. In an EVA suit, surrounded by the wreckage of his shuttle, with a distress call going out into the backdrop of space, and running out of air.

He'd at least managed to get the pertinent data on the anomaly, after the damage it did to his ship, so maybe it could help someone out if they managed to find him. They could download the data from the suit's sensors. The Enterprise was too far out. It was supposed to be a simple scanning mission, but when has anything in their lives ever amounted to simple?

Spoiler: never.

It was training that kept his breathing even, though the alarm kept blaring in his ear that oxygen levels were falling too low. It didn't take him long to get tired of hearing that, and he brought up the controls (though it took a lot out of him) to shut off the internal notifications. No, if this was it, he'd---well, he'd rather enjoy the view he had without being reminded just exactly what was about to happen.

Funny thing: he's almost positive, before he finally passes out, that he heard someone else's voice saying they were the captain of the starship Enterprise. ]

[farpoint]

[ the captain in question didn't need a DNA test to identify the unconscious man lying on the biobed before him. his face, although much younger, was forever etched into his memory. tangled metal, dust and blood, an "oh my," and a pair of unseeing eyes that gazed out upon the landscape of an alien world. he'd taken it upon himself to give that man a proper burial, to ensure that when landing parties arrived to rescue him, they didn't have to see the body of one of starfleet's greatest heroes trapped beneath that bridge. no, james t. kirk had deserved more than that, especially after what he did for a future he didn't even belong to. ]

Are you sure? [ he asks, and alyssa ogawa ensures him that yes, they are. save an anomaly in his blood chemistry that doctor crusher is currently investigating, this man is james t. kirk. ] Can you wake him?

[ "yes sir," she readily obliges, stepping forward and pressing a hypospray to his neck. and then she's stepping back, disappearing into beverly's office to ensure that the only officer within sight is the captain. picard is grateful for this, for he's pushing the boundaries of the temporal prime directive (again) on something of a whim, and not entirely for professional reasons. ]

Captain, can you hear me?

[caelus]

[ Wakefulness came rather unexpectedly, through a haze of beeping diagnostic stations, and unfamiliar voices. It didn't sound like his ship. It didn't sound like his crew because that was definitely not Spock or Bones there to harass him into consciousness.

The voice was wholly new, and it brought a new surge of wakefulness along with the added hypospray. He groaned softly, blinking his eyes open, and tried to get his bearings. The last thing he expected was a rescue, but it seemed luck was on his side, and not for the first time, either.

Jim gave a slight nod at the question, still gathering his wits about him. ]

I can hear you.

[ The room looked strange and familiar all at once. When the man who was speaking came into full view as his vision cleared, he noted a Starfleet emblem on his chest, but the uniform was different than what he knew.

He shifted, and tried to push himself up, body immediately protesting his efforts. ]

[farpoint]

[ picard reaches out, putting a gentle, firm hand upon on the other man's shoulder to keep him in place. ]

Take it easy. You're suffering from oxygen deprivation. You lost consciousness. Your body needs time to readjust. You're aboard the Enteprise. [ he pauses, clarifying: ] The Enterprise-E.

[caelus]

[ While the voice and the room is unfamiliar, there is something reassuring about the hand on his shoulder, and he allows himself to sink back against the biobed. ]

It was a survey mission. There's an anomaly in the vicinity, I have scans. [ God, it took it out of him to just get that out. There was a mild headache starting up, but he'd be fine. He'd had worse. Way worse. The other man says that he's on the Enterprise and he's about to laugh weakly at the idea. This was most definitely not his ship.

But then he offered the designation, which has him forcing his eyes back open in confusion. He tenses, in case he needs to try and get back up, even though the man currently telling him all of this looks about as ready as Bones would to let him try and do that again. ]

Enterprise-E?

[cordera]

[He didn't call. And that's how she knew something was wrong. It could have been something as simple as an ion storm frying the Enterprise's communications array to what actually happened where his ship was attacked, crashed, burned and he survived by the skin of his teeth. Again.

They're a far cry from their relationship fifteen years ago. Probably they'll never be that close, that both mother and son carry scars that won't ever heal and were never there in another universe. The only thing perhaps that has stayed constant is that they always talk on his birthday. If she cried more than she laughed for his first three birthdays, then he was too young to remember it anyway and Winona is self aware enough to know losing George changed everything. She doesn't need to know about time travel and parallel universes to know that. She'd never planned on kids before him and then she had two that needed raising without their father and oh how she hated that Romulan for taking it from her and George himself for leaving her in this fucking mess alone.

So no, she's never going to win any motherhood awards. She never gave up the stars, not because she loved them more than her boys but because being in space was the one dream she had left and she'd given up enough. Winona made the effort on Jimmy's birthday. A cake when she was planetside. A vid call when she wasn't. The latter may have been more common and she remembers how excited he was at five for the quick conversation and how bitter he was at twenty.

It doesn't escape her notice either that Jim's turning thirty this year. She doesn't worry much when her message goes unanswered. For twenty four hours, and then news starts to trickle in about an attack at Yorktown and the loss of the Enterprise. She's too goddamn old to fall apart when no one can tell her one way or another if Captain Kirk survived. So even as her captain is getting orders to change course to Yorktown to provide support and relief as needed, she's calling in favors because she needs to know what she's heading into. If she's burying another Kirk. Being George Kirk's widow still gets her some leverage, even if she goes by Davies these days.

She misses the birthday party his crew threw for him but she does manage to get a message to him. A short simple thing that says Happy birthday. I love you. My ship will be docking in three days at Yorktown. and she doesn't demand that he meet her the instant she gets there-- but it's a weight off her shoulders she didn't realize was there when he is all the same. She's not crying goddamnit but she is bypassing protocol because her son might outrank her but he is getting a hug and he better just damn well go with it.

Maybe there's a little tears in her eyes. She can still ground him though, just try and stop her.]

[caelus]

[ Jim, only days before it all went to hell for he and his crew, had every intention of calling. He always calls her the day of. Always. Even if it's a blip in the void of space where he can just tell her that he's doing ok. Even if it's only a transmitted message cause they missed each other again.

They may not have what they once did, but they get by with what they do. Neither of them can make up for the failures that reside on either side of the line between them, but sometimes they can bridge the gap. Still, his relationship with his ma is better than the one he has with his brother, Sam. You don't get to talk about her! Boy, that'd been a hell of a conversation that he hadn't wanted to do over subspace comms that could glitch out at random.

Thirty years old this year, and in a way it feels like a victory. In a way it sits in his stomach like a rock, grows out and turns the rest of his chest tight like stone, and he forgets how to breathe. He hacked the comms in the Academy once. Hacked them to find answers about his dad that he never got from Sam or his mother or even Pike. Gaila asked him once if it would help, if he'd get answers from listening to it. He got enough, and she was the only person who ever knew that he had a copy of the final transmission of the USS KELVIN. They're looking for your halo. He remembers a fellow cadet telling him about the stares. They say angels have them. Even sons of angels.

Still, he puts on a show that isn't completely one when Bones throws him a party with the crew. He doesn't celebrate, Bones knows, but he doesn't want to spoil the day. He can't argue that it isn't one of the better birthdays he's had in his life, but it still weighs on him. Like there's that stone in his gut. Between that, the medical checkouts, the briefings, and everything else in between, he's barely had time to breathe, eat, and sleep. Forget about checking communications that aren't marked IMPORTANT or URGENT. He's half-asleep, coffee five hours cold, and eyes aching from the strain of the holos he's been sifting through when he finally reaches where his ma's had been buried. It warms him, more than he can really articulate even to himself, and he sends a quick response: I'll meet you at the docks. Love you too.

Even if it means he barely gets three hours of sleep in the interim after checking the docking schedules for the day.

He's waiting there in civilian clothes, black jacket, navy shirt, blue jeans, and boots. He's still sporting a hell of a shiner, but at least it is starting to fade. Protocol is the last thing he's thinking of when he finally sees her, tears in her eyes, and that tightness in his chest moves to his throat, cutting off his voice. He wraps his arms around her, ducking his face down against her shoulder, and ignoring the slowing steps and looks getting thrown their way.

When he finally finds his voice, it's rough with unshed tears, and muffled by her uniform. ]

M'sorry I didn't get a chance to call. [ A watery laugh. ] I was a little busy.

[cordera]

[Oh fuck the people who stare. They're always going to. They stared at when she was a grieving widow. They're going to keep staring because of everything Jim is and has done and will do. It's the first time they've been face to face in a few years now and that's the nature of their jobs but she's going to enjoy her hug, goddamnit.

He's tall, like George used to be, like she imagines Sammy is now though she hasn't made it out to Deneva to be absolutely certain. That relationship is probably even more broken then hers with her younger son and she won't thank Starfleet for it but working for the same organization helped. Winona presses her face against his hair, smothering a watery smile there. He's alive and safe, which is what really matters.]

I've heard that. [She picks up her head and ruffles his hair.] You look like shit by the way.