retired open post // will still tag in if threads are ongoing!

[exastris_scientia]

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

Comments

[caelus]

✯ → → → |augment au\\chris + allergic reactions = giving your brother a heart attack » with julian bashir (asklepian)

[caelus]

✯ → → → |rise of the guardians au\\nbd just rewriting into darkness » with kozmotis pitchiner (asklepian)

[caelus]

✯ → → → |hogwarts au\\gryffindor!jim and slytherin!julian » with julian bashir (asklepian)

[asklepian]

[Julian looks worriedly at Jim again--he looks shaken, and Julian makes a note to investigate the carriages. He'd never thought of what force pulls them before, but now he wants to know.

When they're in the carriage, and it starts moving, he glances away, looking shy and hesitant in a way that is new for him. It's not exactly comfortable, but he has to consider so much more now that the war is over and everything happened the way it did.

It's a few minutes of awkward silence before Julian speaks.]

You know if we keep seeing each other, it's going to make everything harder for you, right?

[Not that Julian wants to stop, but it might have to anyway. He wouldn't blame Jim in the slightest.]

[caelus]

✯ → → → |rise of the guardians au\\ jack rescues gets his ass kicked kozmotis and they head back to earth » with kozmotis pitchiner (asklepian)

[asklepian]

I was a general, you know.

[He sounds amused, at least. And too bad. He's more worried about you than himself right now. Like always.]

I'll have to calculate our course to be sure. Probably a few hours. Where do you want to end up, exactly?

[caelus]

✯ → → → |naval captain kirk and augment julian » with julian bashir (asklepian)

[caelus]

✯ → → → |jim recuperating post ID » with spock (vulcanblood)

[caelus]

✯ → → → |news at 11 jim kirk is allergic to the universe. why do you bother letting him off the ship?? » with spock (vulcanblood)

[rezhim]

✯ → → → |the romanoff twins find each other again » with natasha romanoff (blowncovers)

[ this banter between them comes back readily enough, but not easily. it comes with an ache in his chest he's not sure he can define. little sister. not so little anymore. ]

Not as dead as your ability to cook.

[blowncovers]

[They've both grown up, both changed. It can't be the same ever again, but it can be close.

More and more, she's realizing how much she's wanted that, and hadn't realized. Or had, and had abandoned that because it wasn't possible.]

That's what takeout is for. There's a little Thai place down the street that's probably in violation of about five different health regulations on any given day, but their food tastes good.

[She cleans up a few more cuts and bullet wounds so she can see what she's working with, then takes a small tube of topical anesthetic out of the bag. Not a luxury they'd ever had before.]

You need a few sutures. Fine with that?

[astheyknow]

✯ → → → |augment au\\khan rescues julian from section 31's clutches only to find that he doesn't remember him or who he is at all » with julian bashir (asklepian)

[asklepian]

[likewise, alexander knows he should press this offer of freedom as far as he can. there's no windows here--only one door--but he can't imagine that it's the same for the rest of the place. he might be able to find a way out. if he can do that, he can get back to london, surely, and at the very least away from crazed men with cheekbones made of duranium and the proclivity to deliberately and quite violently stab themselves with archaic hand tools.

not to mention the ability to set a massive explosion in the middle of a city.

to say this man is dangerous is a severe understatement.

on the other hand, alexander doesn't want to go anywhere with him, half out of petulance and half out of fear. he's not going to find a way out of this place if he stays in this room. but that's assuming that khan would lock him in if he wasn't directly supervised. which he probably would. blast it.

he settles for more sarcasm, first off.]

Do you treat everyone you abduct with the same courtesy, or am I special?

[nippin]

✯ → → → |jack frost rescues kozmotis pitchiner from pitch black's lair » with kozmotis pitchiner (gildedgeneral)

[ kozmotis might not know what it means, exactly, but jack does. worry takes over his determined features, even as he takes out a nightmare that charges him. ]

The eggs--- No!

[ there are other tunnels. if he can get to those, he might be able to save some of them. ]

[gildedgeneral]

[Kozmotis glances over, he understood exactly one word of that--well, more of the intonation, really. But he got the meaning.

He waves a hand--go. He can handle himself here.

Well. Probably.]

for kirk.

[sickbays]

[ He hadn't intended to stay this late. He told himself it was only going to be for a few hours, just to get himself caught up on these reports, to start fresh for tomorrow. Two hours ended up being two more, and two more yet. By the time the doctor was done, it was well into the evening. Bones blinked blearily up at the chronometer, his hands rubbing across his face, wiping the strain from his eyes.

He should get going, get the hell out of here before pokes their nosey head in. The doctor sighs and starts stacking tablets up, one atop the other until he's got a nice little pile set up on the corner of his desk. Good enough, he figures, standing up from his chair, arms and legs stretching for a moment before he strides himself out of his office, out of medbay. A small wave thrown over his shoulder for any patients or staff that happened to catch him making his exit.

He's just on his way up to his quarters when he runs into him. Jim, stalking through the corridors like a man with a purpose. The doctor smiles weakly at the sight, his feet carrying him across the floor, moving as quietly as he could without giving himself away. ]

Isn't it a little late to be makin' rounds? [ He drawls into the younger man's ear, hands coming to rest on either side of Jim's hips. ]

[caelus]

[ jim had been finishing up his last round, customary when he gets off-duty, and calls up to the bridge if anything is wrong. usually, there's nothing to report, and tonight is the same. he'd just been closing up his communicator, after talking to the officer who took over the bridge, and hadn't heard anyone coming up behind him.

it's a good thing it's the gamma shift, or somebody might have spotted them. but it isn't, and jim gives a very uncaptainly sound that is totally not a yelp. he relaxes when he realizes it's just bones, and can't help the grin that tugs up one corner of his mouth at the drawl in his ear. ]

Just finishing up my last one. Why? You gonna come tuck me in?

as i continue the inexorable takeover of your inbox - for caelus

[nicejacket]

[it had been intended to be a simple shakedown mission. they'd done a lot of work on black one recently, and poe needed to stretch her wings. she'd flown like a dream all the way to the backwater world where one of the resistance's contacts had reported finding...something. it didn't matter, because it hadn't panned out anyway. and he had bigger things to worry about.

leaving orbit, five first order tie fighters had come screaming out from behind the third moon. that was at least two more than he'd rather be facing, best pilot the resistance had or no. and they were hot on his ion trail--he needed to shake them before hitting hyperspace or he'd lead them straight to the resistance's front door.

bb-8 shrieked warning as a couple pot shots sailed across his nose. they'd told him to stand down and land, prepare to be searched. they wouldn't have messed with a new republic starfighter, but the older models the resistance fielded wouldn't pass for one even if he hadn't given black one a paint job fitting her name.]

Hold on, BB-8!

[he threw the ship into a tight spin, foils folded tight to throw off their targeting sensors, then streaked off hard, coming around in a loop that nearly made his flight helmet fall off.

but he had sights on the target. he locked his wings into attack position and fired. four shots, four hits--the starboard solar panel tore away from the tie's fuselage and it went into an uncontrolled spin, crashing into a second that was too slow or clumsy to get out of the way in time.

well, that was just too bad for them. it created a nice hole that poe intended to make use of. his foils folded again, and he flared the hyperdrive engines into life.

they managed to hit him just as he was breaking hyperspace velocity.

bb-8 wailed in binary, beeping frantically as it began to recount the damage. it had been a glancing blow, but it had been straight to the engines. they were damn lucky that it hadn't knocked them straight back out of hyperdrive and broke them into a thousand tiny pieces scattered across space. as it was, they were stuck in a seemingly impossible--scratch that, definitely impossible, wide open feedback loop. the engines kept getting hotter, and they kept going faster. the control stick in poe's hand felt like it was going to shake apart, and it was all he could do to keep her level.]

BB-8, give me good news buddy, you can fix this--

[the klaxons started wailing as all the gauges on the display in front of him maxed out--their speed was kriffing impossible. he didn't know where they were going to end up when they finally got out of hyperspace, but it was definitely going to be in the back-end of nowhere. something sparked. his ship felt like it was going to fall apart, rattling and groaning with strain it was never meant to take.

he looked up, out of the windows, and wished he hadn't. instead of the bright blazing blue-white-and-black of a normal hyperspace window, he saw just blinding white, incomprehensible nothingness. it didn't even look like they were moving. he wouldn't have been able to tell if the engines weren't roaring behind him.]

BB-8...come on, buddy, please.

[there was a triumphant wail, and then he jerked forward in his seat, thrown against the straps holding him in as the engines died and they spun on their axis into a dead drift. the g-forces were too much, and poe blacked out.

bb-8 sent a distress call on all resistance bands. they were dead in space.]

yes do continue.

[caelus]

[ the enterprise had been on a routine survey mission of a dwarf star system when sulu had detected the distress signal from an unknown vessel. jim had immediately told him to set a course, and when they arrived the life signs were weak.

he ordered them to pull the small ship into the shuttle bay, and beam its passenger to the medical bay immediately. scotty and keenser were already going a little out of their minds as they looked over the ship. there was even a ---robot? huh.

a very talkative little one at that. he asked scotty to keep him updated and then headed up to the medical bay. he had to stop halfway out of the cargo bay, though, thanks to the aforementioned robot bumping into his legs. ]

Hey, easy.

[ another handful of steps and another bump. he sighed, and looked over at scotty who said it didn't seem like there'd be any problem with him following along. ]

Okay, fine, but you stay with me. Come on.

(au) we all look to the stars for metalica

[cohabitations]

[ the lighting in erik's quarters was brought up just enough to start to wake him gently. charles was on the viewing deck, but he used the internal comms in order to speak to him as his vital signs rose out of sleep. ]

Pilot? You asked me to wake you if I were to find something interesting. I believe you'll enjoy this. I'm on the viewing deck, whenever you wake.

[ it was a nebula, but with something many considered to be a good omen on travels through deep space. wake angels, though they did manifest without the exhaust of a passing ship. they were too far away to have caused it, and charles' sensors did not indicate any nearby vessel. he'd keep an eye on things either way.

he tilted his face, leaning closer to the viewport, to get a better look as the colored gases swirled overhead. erik had allowed him to expand his personality subroutines, and he was finding more things he enjoyed daily. ]

for mizrach

[teknikos]

[ the work on the ship was going well. they were helping clean up san francisco still too, but it was slow going. jim had gone up to the ship to check on progress there.

it was a madhouse. there were people from all over starfleet command and the neighboring ships on board. he could barely make it through the passageways without bumping into anyone.

like the guy he just accidentally shoulder checked. ]

Hey, sorry. [ he gave a small grin, and clapped the guy on one shoulder. ] You ok?

joaquin can plan for about 5 minutes but after that he's just making shit up as he goes

[mizrach]

[joaquin has gotten up to the ship--a side-effect of it being so destroyed was lax security, so many people coming and going that it was child's play to slip into the ranks of the workers going up to the ship in orbit. people were packed shoulder to shoulder. he was enough of a presence that they generally avoided him, even if they didn't realize why.

of course chris wouldn't be affected.

he stares at his brother's face, the friendly expression--the friendly expression of a stranger trying to apologize for a social faus pas, not the face of a man who knew who he was speaking to.

it almost stopped him dead in his tracks.

it would certainly change the plan. not that he had much of one to begin with. he'd gotten up here, but now he just didn't know what to do--khan was the planner, not him.]

Yes. I'm fine.

[hopefully the pause can be mistaken as just...being in awe.]

augment sibling au

[teknikos]

[ to say that jim was still wary of the man, joaquin, who'd broken them out of ---wherever the hell starfleet headquarters, was an understatement. he'd seen what the guy could do, and there was this undercurrent of distrust that constantly buzzed in the back of his mind. it was giving him a hell of a headache.

but for some reason, that he couldn't still fathom fully, he had helped him contact two others that he referred to as family. he'd even inputted whatever vague virtual breadcrumb was supposed to lead them to the both of them. now they just had to wait.

jim wanted to contact his ship, find out what was going on, but after what admiral marcus, the head of starfleet did to him, well---who could he trust? did pike know what had happened? or spock? bones? with the brutal interrogation he'd been put through involving two terrorists at large after an attack in london---

is that what they thought he was too?

it was making his head hurt. again. his head was always hurting these past few---days? he's not even sure how much time had passed, and he said little to nothing to the other guy. they were just waiting, now. jim tried not to bristle whenever the guy called him "chris" or when he mentioned that the two they were waiting on were their brothers.

i'm not that guy, i'm sorry. he'd say. every time he did it made something cold and angry flare up in the other man's eyes that made jim find another room to sit in cause it made him feel sick. ]

[asklepian]

[the communication had been unexpected. unexpected, but not unwelcome--they'd had frequencies, ways of contacting one another that had been silent for hundreds of years but still familiar.

joaquin had contacted them. joaquin had chris. khan had barely been able to keep julian from leaping up to go get them immediately, not that he hadn't wanted to as well. they wanted the two of them safe.

as safe as any of them could be.

there were still days where julian caught himself thinking of the false family he'd been given, thinking of himself as 'alexander'. there were days where he didn't respond when khan called him by name. they were fewer and farther between now. he imagined chris would be...much the same. it hurt to think about.

they'd needed to move without the risk of being found, so caution was a necessity--not to mention they'd needed to cross the ocean along the way. it had made things slower than he liked. he had no way of knowing if chris had been subjected to the same drugs and chemicals that he had, and that had been terrible to go through--he wanted to be around when it happened. joaquin...was probably not the best to be dealing with that.

they'd found the rendezvous point under darkness, and khan went first into the murk--an old safehouse, under the ruin of an abandoned cabin in the sierra nevada mountains. lucky it was still there. julian followed shortly thereafter, and while khan and joaquin spoke contingency plans in the main room, julian retreated to find chris in the sleeping rooms to the back that joaquin had said he wasn't leaving.

remembering his own mental state when he was under conditioning, he knocks on the door frame to announce his presence--letting himself hope, when he sees that he's taking apart a piece of junk radio that's about as old as they are.]

Insomia and Cuddles | For Jim

[cantbreakrules]

[It's far past the time Spock should be sleeping. At least resting. Instead he's still quite awake, taking care of tedious work that doesn't exactly have to be done now, but what's the point of letting it sit about and collect?

As far as he's concerned it's better to get it out of the way now and not have to worry about it. A lot of it is stuff either him or Jim could do, so he takes care of it if he can, besides he enjoys it to an extent, the busy work. Much like how some like to do crossword puzzles, this Vulcan liked doing this. Jim would give him grief no doubt if he knew.

But he is sure he appreciates it. In fact Spock knows he does.]

[caelus]

[ Well, he's right about the fact that he'd be giving him grief if he knew that Spock enjoyed doing this sort of thing. He helps out with his share (or the share he's allowed to or has to actually come to him for approval) of the workload, and backs off when Spock insists on taking the rest.

Tonight, like most nights since they got underway for their five year, Jim is having trouble sleeping. He stopped telling Bones about it and puts on his most charming smile when it comes to physicals, even if he can't hide anything from Bones. He gets enough, and gets coffee for the rest. It's enough, and he did far worse in his Academy days. He doesn't drift during a duty shift, and he doesn't fumble when he's got the ball, so to speak. He's not going to go running to Bones for a sedative every night. It's just not going to happen.

Finally, after tossing, turning, and kicking the blankets off, only to pull them back on for the billionth time---he gives up. He rolls over, swiping his communicator off the nightstand, and shifting to sit up properly. His hair is a bit mussed from not being completely dry before he laid down, and he's in his pajamas. He chews on his bottom lip before opening a private channel to Spock. ]

Hey, Spock. You awake? [ A beat. ] Who am I kidding, you sleep less than I do.

Are you busy? [ Can you come down to my quarters is unspoken. He works his hands into the sleeves of his long-sleeved sleep shirt, fiddling with the material. ]

I'll crank up the environmental controls to just the right level for you.

you realize you could tell me to stop at any time right

[blowncovers]

[As missions went, this was almost insultingly simple. Natasha Romanoff had many skills--almost none of them were needed on this particular guard duty but her sharp eyes, and she had almost nothing to contribute to the daily motions of the scientists examining the object recovered from the bottom of the ocean--the Tesseract.

She knew its history, what it had been used for in the past. The thing made her uncomfortable, in a way she couldn't name. Since she couldn't really do much about a hunch, she'd mentioned it in her reports, but there wasn't anything to do about it aside from being extra watchful--and she was always extra watchful.

The Tesseract had been more and more active the last few hours--throwing off brilliant flashes of blue light whenever one of the scientists prodded it. Dr. Selvig had called Director Fury, a move she respected as cautious. He'd appeared scant hours later, and she'd moved to give her report after he'd spoken with Dr. Selvig.

"If there's anything happening, it's not us doing it. It's something on the other side."

"The other side."

"It's a portal, isn't it? The Doctor hasn't done anything out of the ordinary. Scans, tests. Nothing he hasn't done on an ordinary day. It's never reacted like this."

And then it had exploded, washing the entire bay in brilliant cobalt light. She'd stepped in front of Fury--it was her job to protect him, moreso than babysit a glowing blue box and a bunch of scientists. When the light dimmed, there was a figure kneeling in the center of the room, smoke curling off of him, holding a sinister short spear and utterly silent.

She really wished Nick wouldn't have broken that silence.

"Sir, please put down the spear."

The words broke whatever calm had fallen over the room, and before Natasha could draw her weapon, the man had looked at it like he'd forgotten he was holding it, then raised it--and a concussive blast of what looked like light of the same type as the Tesseract was blowing up the bank of computers that had been behind them, before she'd thrown herself at Nick to get him out of the way.

It was over in scant moments, the SHIELD agents that had drawn weapons being blasted away or falling with throwing knives embedded in their throats. She took a few shots herself--she'd hit him, she knew she did, but it hadn't stopped him but for a split second, then he was firing that weapon again on her position. Natasha had rolled away, tried to bring her sidearm to bear again, only to have him in her space in less time than it took her to blink, and her wrist caught in an iron tight grip, squeezed so hard that the bones creaked. She tried to lash out with her other arm, her leg, to break his hold, but was slammed against the floor, dazed and utterly trapped.

"You...you'll do."

The blood-stained scepter came up, tapped with deceptive gentleness against her chest, over her heart. She felt like she was on fire and freezing all at once, until her mind opened and was filled with sudden and complete clarity, and at the same time emptied and waiting for his command--for Loki's command.

She came back to awareness of the room as Loki spoke with Fury, trading sharp words that they really had no time for. She crossed the room to Loki's side.

"He's stalling. The room is going to collapse. We're a hundred feet underground, we'll be buried."

"Like the pharaohs of old."

"She's right, the portal is collapsing. We have maybe two minutes before it goes critical."

"Well then."

Before the words even really left Loki's mouth, Natasha's weapon was in her hand, raised, and one shot was put with devastating accuracy right into Fury's chest, throwing him backwards and to the ground, and they were all moving like they were one. She snatched up the silver case holding the Tesseract as she moved by, handing it to Selvig.

She barely spared a thought for any of them. She had a bigger purpose now.]

who said i wanted you to?

[nested]

[ Clint was on a high-profile mission when he got the call. It wasn't exactly the best time, being embroiled with the local militia and trying to find out who was supplying a local warlord. Needless to say, he had to make his way out of there quick.

Romanoff has been compromised.

The heap he left the guys in was better than they deserved, but they had bigger priorities. By the time he'd followed Coulson's instructions and brought Banner back to HQ, they were already well into trying to locate Loki and the Tesseract. He was focused on it too, it was hard not to be, but his focus stayed with the screen broadcasting information on Natasha.

She was a part of his family. She knew about his family. He had gone up against her before, in a mission to take her out. One on one, they were pretty evenly matched, and he didn't want to find out who would win that fight. He had made a different call a handful of years ago.

He didn't want to have to make a different call now. He didn't want to try and explain to his little ones that Auntie Nat wasn't going to be coming to visit anymore. ]

for skippedthatcourse ♥

[puddlejumped]

[ Sheppard isn't usually the sort to take leave days for vacation, or time in general off. He used to, for a few rowdy nights out off-base with some good friends, or to have some time to spend with Nancy before it ended---. Not anymore. Atlantis, the safety and security of the Ancient City and her people are his priority, and while he'll take the odd day he isn't on duty off, he doesn't ask for any in particular save for once a year.

It's usually around the same time, not that many care to point it out to him. A time for remembering those lost with fondness. Focusing on the good memories and not the bad. It isn't easy. The guilt is still heavy on him, but sometimes after these few days to himself (or sharing with one of his team), it isn't quite as hard to bear.

John's at the pier right now, legs dangling over the side as he watches the sun start it's descent past the horizon. He has one open beer in his hand, and two closed sitting at his side. He invited Lorne, but he knows the guy treasures his free time, like most do. He brought the extra beer in case. He hears the soft scuff of steps and looks up, offering a slight quirk of a grin. ]

Hey, buddy. Thought you were gonna make me sit out here and drink all by myself.

[ He sets his opened bottle between his knees to hold it, and cracks open the other two. One still stays near his left elbow, and the other he offers up to the major. ]

<33

[skippedthatcourse]

[It's an unusual request - not unwelcome but enough to give Evan a pause. Sure, they've been working together for years now and he'll admit, imminent death, Replicators and life-sucking space vampires make for one hell of a bonding experience.

But still.

They don't 'hang'. They may, occasionally, when there's a joint mission with lots of downtime while the scientists are off doing their thing (McKay being insufferable and everybody just praying that please please don't let Parrish wander off into the woods again). But meeting up just because? Evan doesn't even need a hand to count the days they've done that.

This is different. It feels different. It's officially unofficial and Evan has a hard time placing it which is why he picks an unusual road - stalling on the answer, not giving a definite yes or no whether he'll show.

But he shows.]

Now what kind of person would that make me.

[Evan accepts the beer with a small grin in return. He sits, eyes darting quizzically over to the third can. Another person to join them? That's even more unusual and please don't let it be McKay and how would Sheppard be out here drinking by himself then?]

puddlejumped (this thread, i like it. another!)

[skippedthatcourse]

[It could be worse. If Pegasus teaches you anything, it's perspective. And really, it could be so much worse.

There is enough shrub and small dead trees to build fires. No permafrost either, so they don't have to freeze their asses off. In fact they can camp quite comfortably, close to the gate. There are only few predators, so while keeping watch is necessary at least there aren't twenty-foot-tall mutant lizards spitting stone-melting venom into their general direction. They just have to wait, wait for this once-in-a-lifetime-constellation-thingy to pass (really, how many of these super rare moments are they going to encounter?) to allow for a stable wormhole.

There's enough food, enough water. They just have to wait. No really, there's no room for complaints - it could be so much worse.

If only.

If only the landscape wasn't so goddamn depressing. The monotonous dead tundra stretches out beyond the horizon and its shades of brown and grey and yellow ochre make Evan want to claw his eyes out. He really doesn't know how to make it through another week, the lack of visual stimuli are already getting to him.

Sheppard's asleep next to him and Evan can't stop watching him. His dark tousled hair forms a sharp contrast to the washed out dead colors surrounding them, his face relaxed, glowing in the fire, everchanging lines and shades dancing on his face.

Evan really shouldn't. It's a bad idea, in so many ways. But he can't help it. It's the first aesthetic moment in days, the first thing he enjoys looking at (yeah, cause that doesn't sound creepy at all) so he grabs his journal and starts sketching the sleeping Colonel's face with soft, swift pencil strikes.]

scree you spoil me.

[puddlejumped]

[ If Sheppard was awake and knew what Evan was thinking, he'd most definitely agree. In Pegasus, one learns quick how fast things can go from pear-shaped to straight up fucked in no time flat. I mean, space vampires and replicators and torture, oh my.

Here is cool, cold enough to warrant a fire, not just to keep predators at bay, but to keep them warm as well. Now it's just the waiting game. Caldwell and his ship are on the return trip back to Earth, so they are a no go and past their position anyways. Lorne's company is a bonus, as is the fact that there aren't any stone-melting lizards ready to claw their faces off. Anyways, it's way better than McKay. He's pretty sure he'd have stunned one of them just to stop the torture of his whining after the first five hours.

The landscape isn't so much of an issue with John, but then he isn't exactly a guy for aesthetics unless it's something that goes really, really fast. But there's only so much a guy can take before he's lobbing pebbles in his fellow service member's general direction out of sheer boredom. Still, not as bad as the desert, and boy is he glad of that. John's asleep, fast asleep, actually, and that's rare on an outing like this. It shows the amount of trust he puts in the other man. The fact that he can fall asleep deeply despite unfamiliar surroundings, and let the other man do his job on watch.

Outside of the fire, there isn't much to wrap up with, and John is still in most of his gear by force of habit. His head is pillowed on his arm, and his legs are tucked up closer to his chest. The sun will be up soon, and they'll start their day again. Scouting what they can within range of their campsite, gather something that isn't power bars and MREs. What he wouldn't give for a fruit cup instead of berries that may or may not be poisonous in some terrible horrible way that can only happen in the Pegasus galaxy.

There's the sound of an alien bird or tree-dwelling something as the sky begins to lighten, and it causes him to shift and stir slightly. It isn't enough to wake him completely though. ]

for skippedthatcourse ♥♥♥

[puddlejumped]

[ It started with a simple enough accident. Nancy, his ex, had found something of his while she packed up and moved to her new house. Actually, it had been a gift from her on their second wedding anniversary. The item in limbo was a really, really nice surfboard that she'd sent him a picture of as a joke since he couldn't be there to use it.

And as another joke she'd sent him actual snail mail with that same picture and a note that said "be waiting for you when you can get back". It had been funny, at least, John thought so until things started to get weird. It was the first time in years they had an amicable conversation that had nothing to do with his dad's passing. It was nice, he was realizing, to be able to talk to her again.

Of course, he didn't share everything. Nothing came up when she prodded him about relationships, even though Nancy had already remarried. John felt obligated to ask if he was looking after her, and due to the nature of her own job, she sometimes had difficulties keeping secrets from her new husband. Again, she now seemed to understand where John had been coming from all those years ago.

He told her the best thing she could do was try to keep as few secrets as possible. He was an ear when she needed one, and a proverbial shoulder to cry on when there wasn't anyone else that could get what was going on. Strange turn of events, but they were surprisingly friendly despite their differences in the past. It was a light day in the city today, and John was off-duty. He'd just picked up a couple of letters from Chuck, then headed back towards his quarters.

He saw Lorne near where his was and a confused look came over his face as he looked down to his watch. He slowed to a halt a few paces from him. ]

Hey, you're early. I mean, unless we agreed to lunch. I didn't get it confused, did I?

[ John must have got it confused. Especially if the look he was getting was anything to go by. ] I did. Let me put these up and I'll tag along.

/hides face in hands why

[skippedthatcourse]

Don't let me keep you.

[There's a quality to Evan's voice that shouldn't be there. It's the neutral but slightly sarcastic tone that's usually reserved for high alien representatives that somehow managed to piss him off real bad. He leans against the wall, almost casually, arms crossed as he watches John approach.

For a man organizing and monitoring the most complex spy network of the Pegaus galaxy, some information got really miscontrued this time. But Evan is human and this whole situation with him and Sheppard is still new and complicated. He'd never figured he'd be that guy, the one sleeping with his CO and yes, it's clashing with his sense of duty, and yes, it's going against what he'd always believed to be his morals and yes, it makes him insecure and paranoid (never talking about these things - about what they are doing - doesn't exactly help either).

If he were cool and level-headed, he'd wonder about himself, really. It's unlike him, the problem solver, to get so caught up in a misunderstanding. It's an unfortunate mixture of not knowing where he stands, not knowing where he would like to stand. Not knowing where Sheppard wants him to stand.

So this is him, dealing with the unknown, unfamiliar situation the best he can.

In the worst possible way.]

's not why I'm here.

Replicator!Verse because fuck your happiness

[skippedthatcourse]

[He's the one they would call Lorne.

That form comes with memories attached, unique features like a distinct way of computing colors and forms, certain speech habits, ticks, facial expressions and reactions. He can simulate the way the human called Lorne breathes, the slight parting of his lips, the way his shoulder shifts back just a little when he's turning his head. He knows everything about Evan Lorne, a perfect replica that never stops, never tires.

He knows it's something humans do - tire - and he wonders, if he were human, would he tire of running after John Sheppard like that? The man has been their guest for a while now. Lorne is supposed to watch him because carrying the memories of Atlantis's XO means knowing how the Colonel ticks, how he plans. It means Lorne can interfere before he can try anything.

But lately there's no pattern to the things Sheppard does. It's almost as if he's testing Lorne. To see if he gets what, annoyed? Bored? Displays some other form of human emotion?

He's the one they would call Lorne and he doesn't tire. He wonders, though.]

well you kinda said fuck your happiness by proxy jsyk

[puddlejumped]

[ The others call him Lorne, he doesn't have any other designation, and they couldn't understand why John railed against him as he did when he was first created. Because that's the rub of it. He looks like Lorne. He talks like Lorne. In a lot of ways he acts like Lorne.

But there is a difference between Lorne and Evan, and John would know those differences as well as he knows the wrongness of his own continued existence. He is John Sheppard, Military Commander of Atlantis, and he is Not.

One of the differences between Lorne and Evan is one that he doesn't speak of out loud. It's one that stays close to his chest, literally, in the soft clinking of his dog tags. One his, and one---one whose duplicate is across the Pegasus galaxy somewhere. The last time he saw him was with Ronon and Elizabeth shouting for him, trying to refuse to leave him behind. He gave them orders. He knew what he was doing, and he could never have stayed anyways.

He rails, constantly, against the choke-hold Koracen perpetually has him in. He demands help in their continuous failed attempts at Ascension. They know, by means of taking, that he has learned many of the ins and outs, and came close to it himself once. He helped a group find their way to it, so they assume he can do the same for them, and consider his failed attempts to be sabotage. More than once Koracen has disabled a number of the nanites keeping him alive and used pain as an attempt to force him to be more cooperative.

Each time it is excruciating. He reminds himself that pain means he is still human. At least mostly.

Koracen grew frustrated (or whatever replicators call it) of it, and attempted to find another way, left this not!Lorne to follow him around and keep him in line. So he tests him instead. He pushes. He crowds. He snaps at him. He looks for anything that would remind him of the man he knew back on Atlantis that is likely in charge of the city now. ]

You can go. I don't need a babysitter today, cause I'm staying in.

[ He is "supposed" to be going somewhere. He's "supposed" to be helping with something or other. Team effort and all that jazz. Machines pretending to be human. They don't know a damn thing about it. Does John? He's not so sure anymore. ]

You can tell Koracen I told him he could go to hell. If he can't find the way, tell him it's just to the left of Ascension, but he probably couldn't find it either.

thunder-dork calling sun-dork

[thunderthorm]

sun-dork is down i repeat sun-dork is down.

[in_the_sun]

[ Clark was well into his thirties before he felt honest pain. What he might have felt as a baby, inundated by the shrill, inescapable cacophony of voices overloading his senses was something that he went through as a baby. Colic, the doctor had said. He had no idea, and his ma told him that he shattered windows for blocks around. It wasn't until Ellesmere island and the Kryptonian sentry drone attacking him after reading him as an intruder that he felt honest pain. That kind of a memory dims quickly for him, when there isn't a way to feel anything like it regularly.

His near invincibility is quite useful, when he doesn't have to worry about anything getting in the way of it. Like a certain radioactive crystal from his homeworld of Krypton, and the Bad Guy of the Week (as Thor told him that Tony referred to them) wielding it. It saps his energy, leeching his strength, and making him vulnerable. A tremor, a wave of dizziness, and sickness overwhelming him ---strange. He feels strange. Before he can do anything to avoid the next barrage, he's literally pummeled into the ground.

Pain blossoms bright and hot like the sun that gives him strength, except there's nothing for him to draw from. He tries, in vain, to pry the hands off of him, to get free of the man, but to no avail. Another few hits rock him, and he skids across the crater floor when he's tossed away like a ragdoll. He isn't fast enough to get away from the kryptonite, and when another attempt to simply push himself out of the dirt and the blood dripping from his mouth is met with failure---he calls out using the stone Thor had given him.

It was a gift when he visited for Christmas. A way to call for him if he ever needed him. He'd just never had to use it for that. His thoughts are scattered, weak, and hard to focus, but he tries:

Thor, help me.]

That thing we talked about (for Clark)

[grindr]

fff spoilers i suppose

[in_the_sun]

[ Things were---strange to say the very least. Clark remembered fighting Bruce. Remembered Lex and Doomsday. He remembered Lois calling after him not to go, but he didn't have a choice. They had the kryptonite spear. He had to do this.

He remembered dying.

He still wasn't certain how it is that he ended up coming back. He could only describe it as waking up from a very deep and very long sleep. He'd been exhausted after freeing himself from his own grave, and his mother had been the first, obviously, that he saw. She'd cleaned him up, and got him into bed, sunlight shining through the open window to give him strength again.

Once he was well enough to, he'd gone to Lois. He'd found out that TJ had been in a bad way, and after he'd spent a good deal of time with Lois, hand in hers, thumb brushing over the ring he'd sent to the farm so he could surprise her, he went to find him. It wasn't too difficult, after all, he did know the unique sound of his heartbeat.

He also had a key to the place he was staying, and that came in handy. Especially as he crossed over to where the other man was curled up on the couch. He reached knelt down next to him, and reached out to touch his shoulder. He was in simple clothes, a hooded jacket, his Royals jeans, and boots. He reached out, taking his shoulder and squeezing gently. ]

Time to wake up, handsome.

write me a thing :>

[lexikos]

yes ma'am

[caelus]

[ Their relationship, or whatever it was, seemed to defy classification at the best of times. It started as annoyance, kept up pretty high on that scale all through their Academy days, and only ended up getting leveling out somewhat after Jim was given his captaincy. Despite his normally outgoing nature, this new and glaring spotlight thrust onto him, along with the responsibility that came with it, kept him from his usual antics. He had a lot to live up to, a lot to lose, and a bunch of people he could let down if he fucked this up.

What he hadn't expected, late one night after his duty shift was over, after they had gotten underway, was the chime at his door. The chime at his door, that when opened, heralded his communications officer looking more than a little flustered. If he suddenly stood a bit straighter, it was mostly because he has a surprisingly strong sense of self-preservation, and if there's a woman in the galaxy he's actually probably scared of it's her. He was standing there in his sleep pants and no shirt when she barreled in: Excuse me, Captain, just two seconds. Two seconds of your time because I'm not sure that anyone else on this ship could come close to understanding.

That was how it started. Then came the late night hang-outs when she was needing companionship that wasn't Spock's. It wasn't that he wasn't good for her, and he understood that. But, like the conversations he sometimes had with his First Officer, he failed to acknowledge all of himself, mainly the human side. It chafed, in a manner of speaking. So her late night trips to his quarters had evolved to him sending a quick comm in question as to whether he could stop by, and so it goes. Nothing, exactly romantic in the slightest.

It evolved further as time went on, Nibiru, Daystrom, Khan and Marcus, San Franscisco---more than once he'd woken up to Uhura sitting quietly, listening to audio from another language she was trying to pick up on, reading, but sometimes she just talked to him, only he was too out of it still to hold much of a sensible conversation. Physical therapy was tough to get through, but he managed with help, and eventually he was back on the Enterprise with his crew, his family. They got underway for the longest mission in Starfleet history to date. A five year mission.

There were a lot of times that Spock's bangs were in danger. Like in danger from fire or some other awful thing Jim could come up with. So what if he sent Uhura stupid messages or pictures in fits of boredom in the conference room? He's just glad she didn't burst out laughing in the middle of Spock's report, and she deleted them before he got a chance to try and catch a glance. It was funny, the way they seemed to fit together, or maybe it was just that they both stood on opposite sides of someone they both cared an awful lot about? Parentheses encompassing someone they'd both die to protect. Wasn't that the same way for him? He knew the reports and the rumors. Spock asking without asking to go after Khan, his intent clear after what had happened to Jim. The way she beamed down to where they were fighting with nothing but a hand phaser set on stun and every intention of bringing Khan down.

It meant something. Maybe something more than simply being a new home for him. Not a lot of people had given a shit about Jim Kirk throughout his life, much less been willing to lay down their lives for him. So when late night holos and synthesized snacks turned into her falling asleep against his side, he didn't question it. When a popcorn throwing fight broke out in her quarters when he accidentally spoiled the ending of another, he didn't question it. When he found her face buried in his shoulder, hands gripping his arm tight, when they watched a old 20th century horror film, he still kept his mouth shut.

When Spock ended up being the delegate, instead of Jim, to a world eager to join the Federation, they were in orbit of the planet for nearly a month. Because of high strain and tension between opposing parties, shore leave was off the table, and everyone was getting---antsy. There was an energy that he just couldn't get rid of, the restless sort that once upon a time would have put him on his motorcycle and had him go in whatever direction struck his fancy. It turned into comms with Spock and his command crew to find out how things were going, finish his duty shift, work out, shower, and read until he fell asleep. That's the way it kept going. And going. ]

If we have to orbit this planet one more time I might stun myself with a phaser.

[ Said into his comm late one night. He was already in his quarters, and Uhura had taken a later shift than usual so that she could talk with Spock at a better time for them both. ]

for nested...I need more Clint in my life

[blowncovers]

[There's not a lot to do these days, for someone without a calling. Natasha had walked out of the Avengers compound after Tony confronted her, hasn't looked back. Hasn't been able to. She's not welcome there. She's fairly sure she's not welcome at S.H.I.E.L.D. either. She doesn't know where Clint and the others were taken, after the airport, and she wouldn't be able to look Laura and the kids in the eye because of it.

As far as she knows, Tony and T'Challa hadn't revealed her deception, such as it was. He'd be after her if that was the case, and if anyone could find her, it was--embarassingly--Tony Stark. He was too persistent for his own good.

But for now, that wasn't the case. She was sitting in a coffee shop in Iowa City, nursing a black coffee and scouring the internet on a laptop she'd lifted a few weeks ago from a bunch of crack dealers in Chicago. Looking for news. Whispers. Anything.

It turns out, he'd found her first. They had protocols in place, a code they worked out between themselves, ways to let each other know they were safe. E-mail addresses they hadn't shared with anyone but each other, full of messages back and forth. Every time they finished a mission alone, they'd let the other know they were home safe.

The grass got long while I was gone.

He's safe. He's home.

She sends a response.

Guess you've got chores to do. Need some help?]

[nested]

[ They had set these failsafes in place years before. Back when SHIELD was still a big thing with a large radar. They set it up in case they needed a way to talk without proper channels.

I could use a hand. We had to cancel the family trip, everybody's upset. They're packing up. Leaving. He doesn't want to, but it's safer this way. He still wonders how Laura puts up with him most days.

They can't rightly go many places with Clint hiding from General Ross. In fact---they're kind of packing up as they speak. Tony outed his family to that bastard while he was on the Raft, and he'd rather be safe than sorry. He knows how bull-headed and single-minded the general can be. ]