(AHA, found it! MWAAHAHAAA!)
In the ages before, I wrote a story for Stargate: Atlantis, Ill make up a tittle later ok it has to be GOoD!, and it was beautiful.
Such wealth of situation and character combined in fashions I had never before known, and as the words took shape under my fingers, I shed a tear for knowing I would not again reach these heights of inspiration. So many wonders filled the screen in front of me: Tragedy! Raw emotion! Fierce, loyal determination! Buttsex! Truly, I had said all there was in me to say: my muse spent, my soul emptied. I swore then upon my pen an oath to remain silent on the subject forevermore: best to be remembered for my one, fleeting triumph than a thousand dim echoes of the magic I had once wielded.
Yet, alas, I am returned, for to stay away is to battle endlessly against the pull into the deepening veil beyond all things. As the planets are made to dance above us, delicate ballerinas shackled to their fate by the long hands of gravity, I too can never truly be free.
But do not despair for me, friends of my bosom. Though I slip closer, I do not surrender; I am still mighty.
Thanks to![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
m_butterfly, for being my brain canary on this one. She even survived, so it's probably safe to go in.
Because you demanded, the latest disaster:
Our trip to the planet and what happened after.
Some allies of ours were now having some trouble: Their Ancient machines were all turning to rubble. 'Twas our turn on stand down, but though it was mean, I had to round up and make ready my team. (Save Ronon, who'd suffered a wound that went deep, on orders and drugs to remain still and sleep.) First Teyla, but she hadn’t gone far away. The only one left to go get was McKay.
He waved me away. “Maybe later,” he said. “I'll fix this or one day we all wind up dead!” I groaned at his antics, said “Come, for fuck’s sake,” and bundled him with us.
A classic mistake.
We boarded a Jumper at last and we dived. The wormhole went quickly, and soon we arrived. Some locals were waiting for us to touch down; they greeted us warmly and brought us to town.
She didn't see much she could do if she stayed, so Teyla went off to take care of some trade. “What's wrong with your gear, then?” McKay asked around. They stared at him puzzled and kicked at the ground. We tried to explain so that they’d understand, but all that they knew was it worked on command. He gestured, annoyed. “It’s not nuclear fission! Why call us at all, if it’s just superstition.” It was at this point that I did intervene.
“Hey, Rodney,” I said, “just go fix their machine.”
I hoped I’d have quiet, but just minutes later, I received a call on my communicator. He found that their problems had stemmed from neglect, so Rodney was rude to their holiest sect. The walls had closed quickly, he couldn’t escape; he felt it unfair he be left to his fate.
I ran to his rescue so he'd be all right, and burst through the doorway prepared for a fight. I found him instead listening to a stranger, in her hands a… something; there might have been danger. She told him, “…or sonnets, you’re welcome to pick. You want to talk dirty? You’ll have limericks!”
She aimed right at Rodney; I ran from the door. I tackled him, knocking us both to the floor. I looked to be sure she had nowhere to hide. She smiled and put her device to the side. So she was disarmed now and I'd saved the day….
Seemed all I had left was to yell at McKay.
“You weren’t thinking at all! What did you mean to do? Putting yourself in danger for something to prove! You've insulted everyone I can recall. It’s a wonder we have any allies at all!”
McKay's face went paler, his eyes opened wide. I opened my mouth like something was inside. “So I save your ass and she hits me instead? Some alien toy has just messed up my head!”
Rodney grabbed the machine and he stared in dismay, and he turned the thing on and enlarged the display. Said, “This can’t be good,” and then scrolled through the pages. “Whatever it is, I hope it’s not contagious.”
She sighed. “You do know I was aiming at you. Your friend’s not the problem, though likely he'll do. If you still don't know the behaviour expected, in this case, apologies would be accepted.”
“’Kay, Rodney,” I said. “You say sorry or die. If she doesn’t kill you, then I’m going to try.”
“I don’t think I have to.” He touched the machine. “I just need to figure out what this could mean. Then I could reverse it.” He moved the device. “I'll need neurochemists, Beckett would suffice. And then I’ll fix your brain!” But he stopped at my glare.
“Or… I could just say sorry. So sorry, so there.”
“There’s no cure I know,” said the priest, almost merry. “Still, I wouldn’t worry, ‘cause it’s temporary. Just proving a point, so the symptoms will last…” She counted through fingers. “'Til five days are past.”
“And nothing will stop me from speaking in rhyme? 'Cause I can't stay silent for such a long time.” The priest shook her head, and I wasn’t amused, but there was no way she would be disabused.
We still helped them out; even Rodney did scuttle (and left me alone until back on the shuttle). When Teyla returned, I explained my condition. I finished; she nodded but stayed in position. “But you are still squad leader,” and she grinned at me, “and that means there is paperwork Weir wants to see.”
And I crossed my arms. “Oh, you giggle and snort, but there’s no way in Hell that I’ll write this report!”
Why you couldn't wait just five days for this journal, I cannot imagine.
signed,
John Sheppard, Col.
(And now, with any luck, I've got it out of my system.)
In the ages before, I wrote a story for Stargate: Atlantis, Ill make up a tittle later ok it has to be GOoD!, and it was beautiful.
Such wealth of situation and character combined in fashions I had never before known, and as the words took shape under my fingers, I shed a tear for knowing I would not again reach these heights of inspiration. So many wonders filled the screen in front of me: Tragedy! Raw emotion! Fierce, loyal determination! Buttsex! Truly, I had said all there was in me to say: my muse spent, my soul emptied. I swore then upon my pen an oath to remain silent on the subject forevermore: best to be remembered for my one, fleeting triumph than a thousand dim echoes of the magic I had once wielded.
Yet, alas, I am returned, for to stay away is to battle endlessly against the pull into the deepening veil beyond all things. As the planets are made to dance above us, delicate ballerinas shackled to their fate by the long hands of gravity, I too can never truly be free.
But do not despair for me, friends of my bosom. Though I slip closer, I do not surrender; I am still mighty.
Thanks to
m_butterfly, for being my brain canary on this one. She even survived, so it's probably safe to go in.Because you demanded, the latest disaster:
Our trip to the planet and what happened after.
Some allies of ours were now having some trouble: Their Ancient machines were all turning to rubble. 'Twas our turn on stand down, but though it was mean, I had to round up and make ready my team. (Save Ronon, who'd suffered a wound that went deep, on orders and drugs to remain still and sleep.) First Teyla, but she hadn’t gone far away. The only one left to go get was McKay.
He waved me away. “Maybe later,” he said. “I'll fix this or one day we all wind up dead!” I groaned at his antics, said “Come, for fuck’s sake,” and bundled him with us.
A classic mistake.
We boarded a Jumper at last and we dived. The wormhole went quickly, and soon we arrived. Some locals were waiting for us to touch down; they greeted us warmly and brought us to town.
She didn't see much she could do if she stayed, so Teyla went off to take care of some trade. “What's wrong with your gear, then?” McKay asked around. They stared at him puzzled and kicked at the ground. We tried to explain so that they’d understand, but all that they knew was it worked on command. He gestured, annoyed. “It’s not nuclear fission! Why call us at all, if it’s just superstition.” It was at this point that I did intervene.
“Hey, Rodney,” I said, “just go fix their machine.”
I hoped I’d have quiet, but just minutes later, I received a call on my communicator. He found that their problems had stemmed from neglect, so Rodney was rude to their holiest sect. The walls had closed quickly, he couldn’t escape; he felt it unfair he be left to his fate.
I ran to his rescue so he'd be all right, and burst through the doorway prepared for a fight. I found him instead listening to a stranger, in her hands a… something; there might have been danger. She told him, “…or sonnets, you’re welcome to pick. You want to talk dirty? You’ll have limericks!”
She aimed right at Rodney; I ran from the door. I tackled him, knocking us both to the floor. I looked to be sure she had nowhere to hide. She smiled and put her device to the side. So she was disarmed now and I'd saved the day….
Seemed all I had left was to yell at McKay.
“You weren’t thinking at all! What did you mean to do? Putting yourself in danger for something to prove! You've insulted everyone I can recall. It’s a wonder we have any allies at all!”
McKay's face went paler, his eyes opened wide. I opened my mouth like something was inside. “So I save your ass and she hits me instead? Some alien toy has just messed up my head!”
Rodney grabbed the machine and he stared in dismay, and he turned the thing on and enlarged the display. Said, “This can’t be good,” and then scrolled through the pages. “Whatever it is, I hope it’s not contagious.”
She sighed. “You do know I was aiming at you. Your friend’s not the problem, though likely he'll do. If you still don't know the behaviour expected, in this case, apologies would be accepted.”
“’Kay, Rodney,” I said. “You say sorry or die. If she doesn’t kill you, then I’m going to try.”
“I don’t think I have to.” He touched the machine. “I just need to figure out what this could mean. Then I could reverse it.” He moved the device. “I'll need neurochemists, Beckett would suffice. And then I’ll fix your brain!” But he stopped at my glare.
“Or… I could just say sorry. So sorry, so there.”
“There’s no cure I know,” said the priest, almost merry. “Still, I wouldn’t worry, ‘cause it’s temporary. Just proving a point, so the symptoms will last…” She counted through fingers. “'Til five days are past.”
“And nothing will stop me from speaking in rhyme? 'Cause I can't stay silent for such a long time.” The priest shook her head, and I wasn’t amused, but there was no way she would be disabused.
We still helped them out; even Rodney did scuttle (and left me alone until back on the shuttle). When Teyla returned, I explained my condition. I finished; she nodded but stayed in position. “But you are still squad leader,” and she grinned at me, “and that means there is paperwork Weir wants to see.”
And I crossed my arms. “Oh, you giggle and snort, but there’s no way in Hell that I’ll write this report!”
Why you couldn't wait just five days for this journal, I cannot imagine.
signed,
John Sheppard, Col.
(And now, with any luck, I've got it out of my system.)
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