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krsive-writes · 10 months

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Pleasure to Meet You

Title: Pleasure to Meet You

Author: krsive

Rating: M-

Tags/Warnings: mention of past sexual assault, soulmates

It was supposed to be just another day at work for Rick DX-318. A busy day, sure—after all, it was the Thursday before Valentine's Day—but Dex had been working at Mate Mart for years now and he knew the ropes. Just get through this weekend, and on the other side he and the other machine operators would go on their annual pub crawl and blow off this steam. Just get through. Just ignore the clammer of voices in the crowded room that itched at the back of his poor autistic brain. Just do one job at a time.

The unimpressive Morty seated across from him looked nervous. Dex was too tired to smile and put him at ease. His new work polo was rough against his skin all day, and it had him in a mood.

"Put your hand in the machine," he instructed. He picked up his clipboard and clicked his pen, holding it at the ready.

''Just... in? Like...?"

"Just put it in there, flat on the table." Two clicks. "Ok, Morty...” Here he checked the paperwork. “G-116, what brings you in today?”

Morty's brow knit in confusion. "Same thing as everyone else? I-I wanna find my Soul mate."

"Yeah...you're gonna have to dig a little deeper if you want the process to work. The machine can't analyze your emotional resonance unless you're actually feeling something. I already know why you're here, but why are you here?"

''O-Oh. Well, um..." Morty squirmed in his seat. The machine began to hum. "I’m. I'm lonely. Like, r-really lonely."

"You're single?"

''Yes."

"Do you have a Rick?"

"K-kind of?"

"There's no 'kind of' box on my sheet, kid. Yes or no."

"Yes, then? I-I... I ran away from him but I think he's p-probably still on the Citadel."

Dex scrawled a note. "Why did you run away?"

"He..." Morty looked sick to his stomach. ''Do I really have to say? C-Can I just think about it and the machine will know?"

"Sorry, kid. This is the process." It wasn't like Dex was thrilled to hear the boy's trauma dump, either, but it was a living. Just barely.

''H-He tried to...y'know...” Morty's eyes were welling with tears.

"Look." Dex put down the clipboard and leaned forward. Morty mirrored his posture naturally. “You're not the only one here with a past. I did 25 years in Earth prison. I'm extremely personally acquainted with the concept of rape, if you catch my drift. It's ok. You can say it."

Morty broke down all at once. The machine chimed cheerfully.

"My grandpa tried to rape me," he managed to say. "I keep thinking he’ll show up to find me any time now. I'm scared all the t-t-time."

Dex made another note. Staring at the clipboard was so much easier than looking at Morty. "Did you get yourself emancipated yet? We have a legal service on standby for customers who match outside of their original pairs."

"He'd have t-t-to sign, right? I can't..." Morty sniffled. ''I can't do that.”

"Alright. Whatever you say goes. But how about I give you the brochure anyway?"

“Yeah, ok. Sure."

Morty darted a look up at him, a shy, guileless glance. Rick quickly turned his attention to his own hands, to the blown out, faded old tattoos on his knuckles. He didn't like getting too chummy with the customers. He busied himself flipping to page 2.

"If you could pick, who would be your soulmate?” he read.

"Geez. I don't r-really even know. I used to think maybe the Jessica from my dimension, O-o-or...there was this really funny Morty at my old job. I liked him but I was too scared to ask him out."

"What do you like about them?”

"I guess they're both really cute. Like s-soft and pretty. And gentle. Like, they both wanted me to feel good about my self, I could tell. I want someone sweet like that to want to be with me, too." Morty was welling up again. "I just want someone like that to love me.”

The machine, pleased with the display, chugged through its calculations faster. It was almost finished.

"What do you like about yourself?" Dex prompted.

"Oh man..." Morty shrugged one shoulder, his lips turned down in a hard frown. "I d-dunno... nothing, I guess."

''Dig deep." Dex was rooting for the kid. What a pathetic case. The charitable man in him wanted this one to be a success story.

''I guess..." Morty took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm good to people even when I'm hurting. I-I still want to help people so they can be happy. Even though people are mean to me a lot, it didn't make me be mean back. So I like that."

Ding! The machine pinged, startling Morty. A printout slid onto the tray.

"Congrats, kid. You actually have an other half out there! It's—“

Dex read the page. Rick Sanchez, DX-318. He blanched. Read it again. Rick Sanchez, DX-318. Again. Again. Nothing changed. He lost track of the world, dropped the paper.

"No way," he said, blankly.

"DX-318?”

"Who—“ Dex looked around at the row of tables where his coworkers were all busy.

"Isn't that you? A-Are you fucking with me?''

"Which one of you fucks did this?" Dex demanded, shooting out of his chair, voice booming.

"Is this for real?" Morty asked, but Dex barely heard him.

"You do this, C-487? You fucking—“ he stepped menacingly towards the worker at the next station over.

"Do what?" the other Rick asked, clearly confused.

The manager was on his way over, but Dex shouldered past. "I’m taking my 15," he said, and didn't stop to be told no.

"Wait!" called Morty somewhere behind him.

Rick pushed through the break room and out onto the walled back patio where a Rick lingered by the ashtray.

"Out! Get out!” Dex thundered.

“What—“

"OUT!"

The other Rick didn't stay to argue, but when he headed inside Morty passed him. Now the boy was between Dex and the door, and he was walled in on all sides, trapped like an animal. He was ready to chew his own leg off to escape, but he couldn’t bring himself to step towards his soulmate.

"Wh-What's happening Rick?" Morty asked, breathless and pinkened from exertion.

"I don't know!" Trapped, Dex paced back and forth, pulling at his hair. "Someone must have fucked with my machine, it must be some kind of prank, I—“

"What if it's not, though?"

Dex's brain was melting down. He thought about his shabby, half-hoarded studio apartment. He thought of the k-tax pipe in the bag in his locker, the days and nights spent in the numb embrace of drugs. He thought about the day that he killed his daughter, how crazed he still was when the cops came to take him, high off his ass and running amok. He couldn't do this. He couldn't have a soulmate. He couldn't care for a Morty. He didn't even want to care for himself .

"Trust me, kid, you're better off if it's a prank. You don't want me for your other half."

''What..." Morty stepped forward, making Rick shrink back. "What if, though?"

"’What if' is bullshit. ‘What if’ is wishful thinking."

"I bet you're lonely, too, though, right?"

"That's not the point. You don't want me, Morty. I'm just like your piece of shit grandpa, ok? I'm just... I'm not a good person."

"I deserve love," Morty said, jaw set, fists batted tightly. "I deserve love! I deserve for someone to try for me!”

''I—“

"So try! Just try, Rick!"

He pressed his lips together hard, breathing through his nose. Nothing made any sense now. In a world where he could feel love again, he didn't know his place. But Morty's pain was breaking his heart, and the boy wanted to crawl into the cracks of it with probing roots like a weed growing in concrete. Could someone really want him again? He was so afraid. He took a deep breath.

"Call me Dex," he said, offering his hand.

It was a start, at least.

#rickorty #rickortyweek2023 #soulmates

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comradeocean · 2 months

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Poisson d'avril (One Day, Emma Morley/Dexter Mayhew, E, around 9900 words)

Dexter showed up on her doorstep with a rucksack clanging with bottles and that wounded sad boy smile that used to go straight to her cunt. As things stood, Emma sidestepped the embrace she sensed they were meant to fall into by hoisting the bin bag she'd left by the entrance for this expressed purpose. "Go on in. Make yourself at home." She ushered vaguely towards the kitchenette, the sofa with its stack of VHS tapes artfully arranged on the afghan. Large arm motions meant to convey the deep interior of her flat so he wouldn't be tempted to linger in the narrow hallway, and once she returned sans rubbish, try to greet her with the prelude to teary wall sex. Or something.

tags: possessiveness, jealousy, first time, resolved sexual tension, or is it, angst, missing scene, ~ one night of love ~ take two, it doesn't pan out any better, arguably much worse, messy, in all senses of the word, poorly described ego death in the middle of sex, melodrama

warning: extremely self indulgent, crude/vulgar, a hundred flowers blooming, a hundred versions of the night they had intercourse three times and Dex was so 'drunk' he tried to take off his pants before his trousers contending. i.e. a if not quick then dirty rundown of mine.

Enjoy! And please let me know what you think! it's maybe another weird one and I'm hungry for feedback re: whether the particular flavour of weird works!!

#One Day #now w 200% more left melancholia #remember when I was like 4k out of 6 is unsettlingly crude smut #in the end it's more like 8k/9 #Emma x Dexter #begone vile spirit

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dblairlaw · 9 months

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"O-Oh! You're actually early! Not that I mind, means we get to finish earlier!"

This... didn't look like a law office. It was inside an apartment, and the only proof you had that his was, in fact, real, was the sign on the door that reads 'Blair Law Firm'. You hesitantly knock on the door.

You hear a crash coming from the other side, and it's a few moments before the door opens. You're met with a man who couldn't be older than 30, with a mullet, piercings, and a pink bowtie.

"Welcome to Blair Law, I'm Dexter Blair... are you here from the ads?"

Nodding your head yes, he opens the door wider. You see a large desk, with a computer and stacks of papers and files.

"Let's talk!"

Hello! This is the blog of my OC/Sona, Dexter Blair! My name is Dexter (lol), you may know me as the account owner of @wilfywarfy and many others.

This will primarily be an RP blog. Let me get this out of the way right now: I don't know shit about law. The most experience I have with law is a class I took in highschool, Daredevil, and Legally Blonde. So please have mercy if I don't get something right.

Next up, feel free to interact! Whatever fandom you are! Doesn't matter if you're average Joe, or an almighty being, Dex takes any client he can get... Not to mention, he himself isn't that normal. (Wink wink)

Topics such as violence, alcohol, and drugs will be tagged as such. Sexual content must be discussed first. Feel free to DM me and then we'll discuss where to go from there.

No rude behavior will be allowed. I want this to be a safe place where we can all just chill and hang out, y'know? Have fun!

So, now that you're done... What are you waiting for? You've got to prove yourself innocent!

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dangerously-human · 1 year

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I posted 19,754 times in 2022

That's 5,052 more posts than 2021!

703 posts created (4%)

19,051 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fuckyeahjohnandaeryn

@mariposasmonarch

@thisbibliomaniac

@oleander-and-honey

@o-lei-o-lai-o-lord

I tagged 8,387 of my posts in 2022

#stargate - 2,389 posts

#stargate atlantis - 2,280 posts

#farscape - 2,252 posts

#personal - 723 posts

#laugh tag - 259 posts

#endeavour - 244 posts

#grishaverse - 241 posts

#sga - 233 posts

#merlin - 202 posts

#pro life - 171 posts

Longest Tag: 37 characters

#remember remember the 5th of november

My Top Posts in 2022:

I'm not quite halfway through the first episode of Farscape and it's already among the trippiest sci-fi I've ever seen. You're telling me it starts with a normal human astronaut being accidentally yeeted into another galaxy with space-traveling muppets, and it only gets weirder from there?!

89 notes - Posted May 8, 2022

This world is so dark and broken and evil thrives but the Lord is risen! He is risen and he is coming and he beckons us into a new light! I feel like a foreigner in this world because I was made for another, and he will return to make all things new!

124 notes - Posted April 12, 2022

Y'know, I gotta respect the hell out of Ronon Dex, for multiple reasons but at the moment, mainly because he never changed his mind on the Wraith, always saw them as the enemy, but when his team decided to attempt alliances or truces with them, my man chose allegiance to his team over his own, very personal vendetta and followed along even when he didn't think it was the right move, because these are his people and he's going to do right by them, stand alongside them whether to fight or attempt peace, because "fiercely loyal" is too weak a term to fully describe Ronon. I love that about him.

139 notes - Posted July 2, 2022

Sometimes authenticity is not about only sharing the hard or dark or weighty things. Sometimes it's opening up about the good things, the circumstances you're excited about, the places you are making progress or proud of yourself. Sometimes being real and doing life together honestly is admitting to happiness, not just grief or struggle.

I'm still learning this, that I don't have to hold back on my own journey in an attempt to help others through theirs. We can go together and grow together, even if we're in different phases or emotionally out of sync. Self-deprecation is not the same as humility. And the good things can be just as hard to share as the ones that hurt. However averse I am to the vulnerability, it is worth it to invite others into my victories and opportunities to celebrate.

154 notes - Posted November 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

At noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And at three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”).... With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last. The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, saw how he died, he said, “Surely this man was the Son of God!”

Mark 15:33‭-‬34‭, ‬37‭-‬39 NIV

Forever struck by the visual of the temple curtain, the symbol of separation between God and man, rent asunder in the very moment it was no longer necessary. Jesus, a new and perfect high priest, gave everything so we could go before God unburdened by the weight of our sin.

It is finished.

188 notes - Posted April 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#personal

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winterfireice · 1 year

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Chapter 3 of Just Coffee Hearts is out now!!

not tagging people today because I'm tired

“I just don't understand how you two ended up at an abandoned water park in the first place,” Amy tells Dex. We’re all working this Saturday, and it’s a slow day so we're pretty much just hanging out, and talking, not worrying about much,

“We got lost,” Keefe shrugs casually, Keefe isn't working today but is here nonetheless and sharing some random story from last summer when he and Dex went camping. I’m still not sure how they got to the water park and they won’t tell me so I've pretty much given up on finding out.

I hear the door open and look up, my legs nearly falling out from underneath me seeing Biana walk through the door, her mouth breaks into a smile when she sees me and I can feel my cheeks get warm,

“How are you already blushing?” my cousin whispers,

“Shut up please,” I respond quickly before Biana can get to the counter and can hear all my so-called friends laughing quietly,

“Hi, um what can I get you today, I should mention were having a sale on our blueberry muffins,” I say to her finding words much easier than the last time we spoke,

“A latte please and a blueberry muffin I guess,” she laughs “Oh, and a chocolate chip muffin too, please, thank you,” she seems nervous and it makes her even cuter,

“Coming right up,”

Biana’s phone rings and she steps outside to answer it while Amy says “Ok Sophie you make her coffee and Dex you get her muffin,”

“And what will you be doing?” Keefe asks,

Amy looks around for a second, “I will get her the other muffin,” she says confidently,

I turn to start making Biana’s latte deciding to add a little foam art of a heart on top,

“Oh that's cute,” Keefe says looking over my shoulder “You should write your number on the side,”

“Oh, you totally should!” Amy says almost squealing,

“I'm not going to do that,”

“Why not?” Dex asks, “You clearly seem to like her, I mean you practically melt when you see her so why don't you make a move?”

“Ok that's a pretty good point hand me that sharpie,” I say

…

“Hey sorry about that one of my brothers called me and I didn’t want to miss it,” Biana says coming back in,

“No worries I get it, my older sister is at college so I try not to miss any of her calls either,” I say to her while handing her the latte and bag of muffins,

“My brother is in college too,” she says and looks down seeing her coffee, “Oh this is super cute, I love it! I hope it wasn't too much trouble.”

“Thanks, and don't worry it's just a coffee heart, I've known how to do them for a while it’s a plus of having parents that own a coffee shop,” I say light heartily,

“Your parents own this place?” Biana asks,

“Yeah they opened it a little after they graduated from college and used to live in the apartment upstairs”

“Very cool,” Biana smiles and pauses for a moment looking down at my name tag, “Sophie, that's a nice name,”

“Thanks, I've had it all my life”. Dear god, why did I decide to say that, Biana chuckles and looks back down at her coffee “Is this your phone number?”

“Yes, it is,” I say hoping she doesn't feel like I overstepped,

“I will make sure to call you, Sophie,” Biana says and I smile, we stand there for a moment before she turns to leave. The moment I see the door close I sink to the floor not knowing what to do next,

“I'm not going to lie that went much better than I thought it would, I so thought you would make a fool out of yourself but you were surprisingly put together,” Biana says sitting down next to me,

“Really because I feel like a disaster,” I say into my hands,

“You are a disaster but that was already known knowledge so don't worry about it,” Keefe picks up a cookie and brushes off some crumbs onto the floor before taking a bite,

“You know you have to pay for that right?” I ask him, he responds by reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few dollars, and putting them on the counter before finishing his snack,

“Anyway Amy’s right-” Dex starts to say but I interrupt “Hey”

“Not the part where she was insulting you I mean the part about it going well,”

I hear two sets of footsteps behind me and am about to stand up before I recognize the shoes,

“Um, quick question, why is one of my daughters sitting on the floor like she just completely flunked a school project and why is one of my other daughters looking like she's enjoying it?” my mom says,

“Sophie talked to a girl then promptly shutdown and Amy is either revaling in her sister’s embarrassment or genuinely excited for Sophie because the girl said she would call Sophie,” Keefe tells my parents,

“Oh that makes sense, wait you don't work today why are you here?” Grady asks

“I'm always here, plus it's still too cold to start surfing,” Keefe states,

“Oh, that reminds me one of your surfboards is still upstairs with some wax, in case your looking for it,” my mom tells him,

“Thanks, I’ve been wondering where it was, I can bring it back over to my place in a few days if that's okay,”

“Of course, your stuff can stay up there for as long as needed,”

Keefe’s face breaks into a smile and I stand up wiping dust off my jeans,

“Alright well you kids should get going, your shifts are over and you guys should have lives outside of this building,” my dad tells us,

…

“Hey do either of you have notes from Ms. Talle’s class?” Dex asks,

“I think I have some over on Sophie’s desk but I'm not sure if they're very clear,” Keefe responds rifling through a few pieces of paper, the three of us are on my bed doing homework and studying while Amy goes to Jensi’s,

“How are these not clear they’re better than ninety percent of mine, this is one of the benefits of having two best friends that are at the top of our grade,” Dex says after finding the right one of Keefe’s notebook,

“That is why you hang out with us, for our notes,” I laugh and look to my phone,

“She probably hasn't texted yet because she’s busy,” Keefe says,

“Or she doesn't want to appear to forward so is waiting a few hours, don't stress about it,” Dex adds on,

“I'm not thinking about Biana,” I say a bit too defensively,

“That was the fifth time you've checked your phone in half an hour what else could you possibly be waiting for?” my cousin continues,

“The end of the world,” I state, when a beep interrupts my thoughts I grab my phone in record time that probably just proves my friend's point,

“Hi it's Biana from the Calla’s I guess I just wanted to say hi, so hi”

“She texted me!” my voice is definitely higher than it normally is,

“We told you she would, are you going to text her back?” Keefe asks,

“I don't know, I mean she waited a few hours before texting me should I do the same thing? Or did she wait because her phone died or something and is now waiting for me to respond like I was waiting for her, but what if I respond too quickly and she finds it weird,”

“Please stop spiraling it's stressing me out, and respond to her whenever you want because either you are the only person in this world who can worry like you do or this girl is worrying just like you and when you two go on a date you can laugh at yourselves,” Dex says still looking down at his textbooks, he has listened to about five years worth of my anxiety and knows when I really need comfort this not being one of those times apparently,

“I say text her you’re available now so use your free time,” Keefe says, he is basically sitting the opposite way as Dex, sitting on his knees with his hands excitingly tapping on them, his homework completely abandoned,

“But what if-” I start,

“Stop what if-ing, text the girl you can’t stop thinking about,” Dex interrupts while moving our books to the side realizing we're not going to be getting any more work done.

“Fine,” there’s annoyance in my voice even though I’m happy someone is convincing me to do it,

“Here it is, already unlocked and all ready to go,” Keefe hands me my phone,

“What should I say?” I ask them,

“I don't know, I have had very few crushes in my life,” Dex says,

“Oh I have no clue what to say to girls, and for guys, I'm not the one who usually starts conversations,” Keefe adds looking between us,

“So between the three of us, we have little to no experience when it comes to flirting?” I say,

“Exactly,” Dex tells me,

“Hey, didn’t you ask out Marella though?” Keefe asks,

“Not exactly, we were partnered in a science class and somehow a study session turned into a date,”

“Wow we're great at this,” My cousin says sarcastically,

“Definitely, we’re the best choice for dating advice, so just tell her that you have been thinking about her or something, it's probably not as complicated as were acting,” Keefe tells me,

“Yeah your probably right,” I say,

…

“Hey, when are you coming back with the mac and cheese?” Keefe shouts from upstairs, i’m cooking a quick dinner while my parents are out on a date and Dex and Keefe decided to stay the night while Amy is at Jensi’s.

“Almost done,” I respond leaning out through the doorway, I pull out my phone drafting up another text for Biana, finally just sending a simple response of

Hey Biana really happy you texted me,

Before putting away my phone trying not to stress about it while balancing three bowls of Mac and Cheese. Walking up the stairs I feel a vibration from my back pocket and smile to myself, maybe she really is just excited about this as I am.

#kotlc #sophie foster #winterfireice writes sometimes #biana vacker #sophiana #kotlc fanfic #just coffee hearts #keefe sencen #dex dizznee #edaline ruewen #grady ruewen #amy foster

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cottagepodfics · 1 year

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AO3 Wrapped 2022

Thank you for the tag, @daysarestranger! And thanks for editing this for podfics. 😁

Works Published: 21 (14 solo podfics and 7 multivoices, plus 1 WIP)

Word Count Run-Time: 23 hours 57 minutes (so you could listen to *me* for nearly a full day! 😝)

Hits: 7,991 (but some podfics are attached to fics)

Bookmarks: 97

Most popular by kudos: Peaceful Bliss

(*ignoring those that are also fic: STILL PEACEFUL BLISS, which is wild. Hi, Stranger Things. You are my first big fandom and I'm still in awe of/intimidated by you.)

Most hits: Peaceful Bliss again!

(*ignoring those that are also fic in second place: Shall I Stay?)

Longest: also Shall I Stay? at 12 hours 13 minutes

Shortest: i will share this room with you at 6 minutes 20 seconds

Most comments: The Mechanics of Poetry again! It has a lot of chapters, and there were also a few lovely listeners who commented many times. It always made me smile!! ❤️

Podfic that made me cry: I don't have anything tearjerking for this year, but if you're looking for something truly devastating, there's always last year's To Come Out the Other Side (aka Schitt's Creek MCD)...

Podfic that made me smile: Wellies Always Kiss and Tell ! @thirdeye1234 wrote this fantastic fic, and some friends and I got together to surprise her with a podfic. It was so much fun to collaborate on, and it's the first multi-voice I edited.

Gifts: Wisdom Teeth for Amanita_Fierce, as a just-because gift. Reading Nursey high from the dentist and Dex as his suffering caretaker was very fun.

Events: Please (Don't) Have Snow, a cute little PB&J fic, for Deck the Haus.

Here's to even more podfics in 2023! First on the agenda is finishing my WIP, and then I have an idea for a series... 👀

No-pressure tags: @sunlightsymphony, @thirdeye1234, @n0connections, @b13-maybethistime, @hullomoon, and anyone reading this who wants to participate! Consider yourself tagged!

#tag game #podfics #schitt's creek podfic #stranger things podfic #carry on podfic #omgcp podfic #aloto podfic

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aphelea · 2 years

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hi i'm arjun! pronouns he/she. i'm a kotlc fan who writes an absurd amount of gay telepath angst. you can find my fics on ao3 at tamsencen (unrelated to keefe/tam…it’s a long story) or on tumblr under the tag august's writing.

if you want non fandom writing check out @perihelea, if you want toh stuff check out @rainepours.

fic masterlist:

Tuesdays | 5.6k, adrien agreste-centric fic

Lady Galvin's Chemistry Catastrophe | 3.5k, sokeefe high school AU

help me hold on to you | 1.2k, tiertice post-mind break angst

my smoking gun | 1.2k, tiertice angst with a side of qualden

i'll be summer sun for you forever | 0.6k, young juline & edaline

my everblaze | 0.3k, angsty dellivvy pining

balancing on breaking branches | 3k, post-unlocked dex and keefe in the forbidden cities

better off as lovers (and not the other way around) | 7k, qualden through the years

bronte discovers the neverseen uniform | 0.4k, fintante feat. the neverseen leotard (sigh. yeah. idk why i wrote it either)

keepers of ink and bone | 4k, a kotlc/the great library au

may the bridges i have burned light my way back home | 1.1k, qualden angst from alden's pov

this is how i disappear | ongoing, a kotlc superhero au

serenade | 1.3k, tiergan/alden break-up

broken minds, broken hearts | 1.1k, tiergan and leto attempt to break prentice out of exile. tiertice angst

burning on | 2.5k, bronte and oralie post-Oblivimyre.

like forever (in a day) | 5.2k, tiertice fluff with some angst

save yourself tonight | 1k, au where tiergan is arrested instead of prentice

in the archives | ongoing, a series of letters from the black swan archives

la vie te blesse souvent | 1.7k, tiergan and wylie bonding feat. tiertice

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dessertwaffles · 2 years

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Rules: post the barebones plot of your wips and let people send you an ask with the title that intrigues them the most and then post a snippet/tell them something about it! then, tag as many people as you have wips!

Thanks for the tag @swiftlythebest!!

I’m going to be honest and say that I'm not sure if I'm ever going to finish any of these Schitt's Creek wips. But who knows! Maybe inspiration will strike again!

David and Patrick adopt a small, fluffy senior dog

D & P are in a boyband and can't ever find the privacy to make out (aka boyband boyfriends 2)

David is a designer on Project Runway and Patrick is part of the crew and they fall in love

Patrick trolls David with a waffle maker

David and Patrick meet in college, play hockey, and fall in love (aka the Check, Please! inspired AU that I started for mediafest and didn't come close to finishing)

I've also started writing/outlining some ideas for NurseyDex from the webcomic Check, Please!

I force all of my college computer science woes onto Dex and also there is kissing

Post-Samwell roommates

I wasn't around all weekend so I'm not sure who has done this already. If you want to do it, consider yourself tagged!!

#tag games

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eirian-houpe · 5 months

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Chain of Command - Act 1

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Teyla Emmagan/Michael Kenmore Characters: Richard Woolsey, John Sheppard, Jennifer Keller, Ronon Dex, Rodney McKay, Original Stargate Character(s), Original Stargate Wraith Character(s), Michael Kenmore Additional Tags: Angst, Traditions, Drama, Canon Typical Violence, Politics, Bureaucracy, Conflict Series: Part 2 of SGA Virtual Season Five Summary:

When the IOA replaces Carter as the head of the Atlantis Expedition, and the first thing that happens is the alienation of long standing allies, in spite of Sheppard's best efforts, trouble can't be far behind. Woolsey's command is given a baptism of fire when the Alpha team is ambushed off world, and hampered by a lack of intel they truly are on their own.

Chain of Command - Act 1

Refocus. Prioritize. Defend.

"The I.O.A. is initiating a new policy: immediate recall of all base personnel. From now on, we'll be focusing entirely on the defense of this city. Furthermore, Doctor, your department is going to be scaled back. Without the Gate Bridge, and with the need to keep at least one ship in orbit at all times for defensive purposes, re-supply is going to be difficult. We need to prioritise."

"I don't understand this. I'm already under-staffed as it is."

"Only because you've over-extended yourself with all these humanitarian efforts and your continued attempts to find an antidote for the Hoffan drug. Once you have refocused your attention back to the medical needs of this base and its personnel, I don't think you'll have a problem."

Woolsey and Keller – The Last Man

Act 1

Ronon shifted uncomfortably as he looked around the briefing room at each of his friends. It had been less than twenty four hours since their desperate attempts to find Teyla, and the subsequent deadly battles with the Wraith after being rescued from the ruins of Michael's facility. Their injuries, at least the physical ones, had barely begun to heal, but at least they had had some time to bond and to begin to assimilate what had happened.

Of course, then came the inevitable – the inquisition. Carter had delayed as long as she could in sending the report to Stargate Command. She must have known it would not be a favorable response, not with the outcome as it was.

He sighed as he turned his head to the seat usually occupied by Teyla. He missed her. He missed her intelligent opinions, framed within the culture and experiences of the Pegasus galaxy. He missed the gentleness and concern she showed for everyone that suffused her words and, even when she was critical of plans and ideas, made people feel that their voice had been heard.

Her place was occupied by Halling. As a representative of their Athosian allies, and having been held captive for so long by Michael, he was able to provide them with invaluable insight and information. Ronon knew that without the Athosians' knowledge, to augment his own, the Atlantis Expedition would be perilously uninformed.

"We were not the only ones," Halling said in answer to a question that had just been asked of him, "but we were kept apart from the others."

"Why?" Sheppard asked.

"Which of us can truly claim to know that one's mind?" Halling asked in response, speaking of Michael.

"Well you must be able to make some kind of guess," Sheppard said, and Ronon could hear the irritation mounting in his friend's voice. He knew Halling was doing his best and was unused to these kinds of situations and wanted to try and help the man out, but he couldn't find the words. He couldn't even think of what Teyla might have said.

In the end it was McKay that spoke. "Sheppard, I know you're worried, we all are, but grilling Halling about something he can't tell you is counter productive," he said, "I lay for hours watching Michael working and—"

Ronon glared at him, cutting off whatever had been about to come out of his mouth. He knew Rodney McKay well enough to know that, more often that not, the man's mouth ran away with him, and if he was talking about Michael's work then the chances were that he would let slip about Lorne's condition.

It was the one thing that Sam had, quite deliberately, left out of her report to Stargate Command. She'd called them all together after she'd sent the data-burst that had contained the report and had explained to them that she felt it would be against their, and certainly Lorne's, best interest to tell them until they were sure they had no other choice. Every single one of them had agreed to mention it to no one outside of their small select group. Not even other base personnel. Jennifer was to have sole responsibility for Lorne's care so that not even her medical staff would be involved and risk compromising their silence.

"And what, Doctor McKay?" All eyes, including Ronon's own, turned to face the new Commander of the Atlantis Expedition.

"Well," to give McKay his due, he almost sounded convincing, "I was just going to say that I couldn't even begin to guess at Michael's motives for anything – even having been so close to him. The Athosians, I'm sure, didn't get to see much of Michael himself. Right, Halling?"

"It is as you say, Doctor," Halling answered, "It was usually his soldiers that came to do his bidding."

"Indeed, Michael's soldiers…" Woolsey's voice held a good deal of suspicion and his posture was threatening as he leaned toward McKay. Ronon couldn't help but glance at Doctor Keller, wondering why she had been called to the meeting, and a very uncomfortable feeling began to stir, snakelike, in the pit of his belly.

The night was uncomfortably cold. The frost crept along the ground and condensed the air around their feet, some kind of arcane breath that came as a precursor to the arrival of the Haradian Hag… and arrive she would, for the Red Star had appeared in the heavens several hours before.

Miran walked through his people, watching the way each of them huddled together with their families, perhaps for warmth, but mostly out of fear. He had no family, and neither did he feel fear, only anger; anger at their continued subjugation by the Haradian people and frustration at his own people's apathy, their unwillingness to fight back.

Once again the Red Star had appeared, and once more they had all gathered, lambs to the slaughter, awaiting the coming of the one who would sniff among their young womenfolk, and select the one that would be expected, willingly, to make the sacrifice for all of them, and go with the Hag to the Haradian city, to suffer the ancestors-only-knew what kind of torment and torture.

He stopped walking and pulled his jacket closer around him against the cold. His eyes still moved among the crowds of people, seeking out the one for whom his anger, his need for action, burned most brightly. She looked up and met his eyes in the same moment. She was huddled with her mother and father; with her brother, who also met Miran's gaze. Not tonight… please not this time, his expression said.

Lisstha stood resolute. Afraid, yes, he could see it in her eyes, but he knew she would not falter or fail to do her duty by her people if The Choice should fall on her. None of the young women would. None of them dared, and for most of them it had become so ingrained, so expected, that not a single one among them would even consider marriage until they had passed through three such nights as these without being chosen.

It had become their tradition, a way of life for them, as had accepting those others that the Haradia,'s brought to their settlement, expecting to be cared for, to be subsumed into their community as wives and foster sisters, husbands and foster brothers, but it was wrong… and sooner or later the others would see it – when the last of the elders passed as smoke beyond the Ancestral Ring – and would finally hear Miran's words, and stand with him against their Haradian masters.

The low hum that shook through their bellies filled the air for a moment and in the distance a flash of light split the darkness.

"She is coming."

"The Hag is coming."

"It is time."

The many frightened whispers began to pass among the villagers, as much a part of the ritual as was their gathering out in the cold to await their tormentors.

"And we will stand ready," the young women answered together.

As he watched Lisstha's lips move to shape the words, Miran's fists clenched at his sides and his eyes filled with angry tears.

"No," he cried and began to push his way through the crowd of people, who had started to draw together as the time approached. "This is wrong. Can't you see that?" He broke through to the front of the crowd and turned to face them, spreading his arms wide. "How many more of our young women must we let them take? How many more lives must they destroy before you—?"

"Peace, young Miran," Dannad, the eldest of the leading council stepped forward into the space alongside him. He held out his hand toward him. Miran knew it was meant to be a calming gesture, but it only enflamed his anger still further.

"Don't patronise me, Dannad," he virtually spat the words in the elder's direction.

"No one is patronising anyone," Dannad answered softly, genuine in his concern, "but we all know how much you feel for young Lisstha and that it is understandable, given that, why you would speak this way."

Lisstha stepped away from her mother's arms, coming forward to appeal to him. "I know you want to protect me. I'm not afraid."

"You should be." he told her, reaching out, first to her and then to all of them. "You should, all of you, be afraid – and angry too. There's no need for this. We shouldn't have to—"

"Miran, please…" Lisstha's light touch against his chest cut him off. He automatically covered her hand with his to hold it there, to feel its warmth against where his heart beat wildly inside of him. "Do not speak this way. She is coming and could hear you, and then you know what will happen if she does."

"But Lisstha—"

She reached up then, to cup her hand around the back of his neck and draw him down to meet her waiting, but suddenly fierce, kiss. All resistance in him melted away and he wound his arms tightly around her, deepening the kiss, shameless before the entire village in the way his frightened, needful hunger possessed her, made her his.

When the kiss broke, she leaned her head against his, breathing hard and whispered, "It will be all right."

He did not have the time to reply. From the edge of the village came the sounds of footsteps, slow and labored, and the rustling of the deep grasses that grew there. He spun around to face the direction of their coming, holding Lisstha close against him as he peered into the darkness along with the others.

The Hag came, as she always did, supported by two men. Both carried weapons strapped against their thighs, though they never had to use them. The fear of the Hag, and what defying her would mean for the village, kept the villagers away from them, away from the old Haradian woman.

He felt the old woman's eyes on him as though a physical touch. Against every instinct he turned his head, raised his eyes to look on her. Of themselves his arms tightened protectively around Lisstha and he shivered in near revulsion.

The crone was quite simply the most ancient creature he had ever seen. Her bones were bent and twisted with the effort of supporting her withered flesh for so many years. Her hair, what little she still possessed, was as grey as the frosty air that oozed along the ground ahead of her. However, where her eyes should have been filmed and milky with age, they remained piercing and sharp, pale and faded certainly, but possessed of a fire that burned from somewhere within the old witch.

"Let the women… stand forward," she said and her voice, little more than a whisper, poured ice over every nerve he possessed.

"So what exactly are you saying, Doctor McKay?" Woolsey asked, his voice precise in the way he schooled the inflection.

"I'm saying that I haven't yet had the time to talk to Zelenka about what they saw, about the sensor data, about anything that happened aboard Daedalus, so I can't help you."

Sheppard frowned again at the combative way that Woolsey was proceeding with the debriefing. He was almost acting as though he was trying to make everyone angry and insecure.

"But every indication is that the Wraith now possess some kind of super-weapon capable of destroying a ship with a single shot," Woolsey said.

"No," Rodney countered, holding up a hand, finger raised. "That could have been a lucky shot. Michael's ship could have suffered an overload. There are any number of things that—"

"The report from the officer aboard Daedalus says that the beam was reflected back by Mi—" Woolsey began to argue.

"He also reported," Rodney snapped, "that the sensors on the Daedalus were down. So you're talking about human perceptions. People often misinterpret—"

"We all saw it, Rodney," Sheppard sighed at having to contradict Rodney, but he had to stop McKay from playing into Woolsey's hands and making a total fool of himself.

"All right!" The exasperation in the scientist's voice rang out across the room. "Even if, and I still think it's a pretty big if, the Wraith have developed some kind of new technology, fine! They're using it against each other and against Michael. We don't know of its effectiveness against non-wraith technology. So, great, they're blowing each other out of existence. Let them!" He threw up his hands.

"My point, Doctor McKay," Woolsey went on, apparently unruffled, "Is that while you have been busy with whatever it is you have been doing these last – how long is it, three years, four? – the Wraith have continued to grow in both number and military effectiveness and—"

"All right, that's enough!" Sheppard couldn't hold off any longer. Not with Woolsey getting so personal. "If you're about to suggest that the members of my team have been sitting around on their asses while the Wraith have been running freely around the galaxy you just better be prepared for the indigestion you'll get when I shove your words so far down your bureaucratic throa—"

"Are you threatening me, Colonel Sheppard?" Woolsey snapped indignantly, "because if you are—"

"You know my reputation, Mister Woolsey," Sheppard emphasized the civilian title just a little. He hadn't meant to be quite so graphic in his rebuttal of the man's insinuations, but truth be told, Woolsey had always irritated him, and was getting completely under his skin now. "Even if I were, when I last looked, strategy and ordnance research came under military jurisdiction and I'm still the ranking military officer in command of this expedition so—"

"For how much longer is the question though, isn't it, Colonel?" Woolsey said.

"I don't think so," Sheppard said, refusing to allow himself to be baited on that particular subject. "No one wants the job, Richard. Why do you think they sent you?"

There was silence in the room for several seconds and Sheppard sat back with an almost satisfied smile on his face.

Eventually Woolsey said, "Well, Doctor McKay, when you do get a chance to look over the data from the Daedalus concerning the new Wraith weapon, I'd appreciate your insights and your opinion of how we might best be able to defend against them."

"Of course," Rodney said, and he glanced over at Sheppard in silent gratitude.

"While we're on the subject of the Wraith," Woolsey shrugged further back into the fabric of his uniform, "perhaps you'd care to enlighten me on the one you've consulted with on several occasions."

"Todd?" Sheppard frowned, "Nothing to tell."

"That's not my understanding of the situation," Woolsey argued, "In fact, during the recent months, Colonel Carter's reports have indicated that you've collaborated—"

"Collaborated?" Ronon snapped in question.

Sheppard cringed and quickly put in, "I'd hardly call it that," he shifted a little in his seat, "we merely suggested that if he were to share any Intel he might have on Michael's whereabouts then we might be able to—"

"Colonel Sheppard, you gave him our research on the Hoffan drug." Woolsey leaned forward. "Isn't that right, Doctor Keller?"

"Some…" the doctor began stammering out her answer, clearly caught off guard, "I mean… that is… it wasn't all of it, just—"

"We determined what would be the safest part of the information to give to him and that was all we did," Sheppard said, his irritation leveled at Woolsey's continued efforts to undermine their actions, particularly with so much at stake and so little time remaining quickly rising to an almost unbearable level.

As much as Woolsey had obviously read the mission and field reports, he did not at all seem bothered by the time constraints they were facing according to the information Sheppard brought back from his visit to their future.

Woolsey continued his inquisition, shuffling another set of files to the top of his stack and asked, "And what of the attempts to find a cure for Doctor Beckett?"

"Well," Keller started to answer as Woolsey turned a baleful eye in her direction. "With everything else that's been happening, I haven't really had the chance to engage in further research, I—"

"You see," Woolsey sat back, his hands resting on either side of the stack of files in front of him, "this is exactly the kind of thing that proves my point."

"And your point is?" Sheppard folded his arms in lazy defiance.

"Colonel Sheppard, the activities pursued by this expedition have, to date, been entirely too reactive. We need to refocus our attention on the current needs of base; prioritize our efforts by those that will most effectively alleviate our needs and, above all, defend the personnel and technology of Atlantis against hostile—"

"It isn't just about Atlantis any more," Sheppard argued, glancing toward Halling. "Take a look around you."

"That's as may be," Woolsey began, but Halling interrupted when he paused for breath.

"It is true, Mister Woolsey, that when the people of your expedition woke the Wraith; once more when you helped the people of Hoff refine their virus to be employed against them, and then again when you tampered with the programming of the machines you call the Replicators, your people subsumed everyone into your troubles." He held up his hand to prevent Woolsey from interrupting. "While neither I, nor my Athosian brothers and sisters hold you to blame for these things, I do believe you now have a responsibility to help defend all the people of this galaxy against the threats they now face."

Woolsey's face darkened as he seemed to be gathering words in defense against what Sheppard knew to be the truth.

"Halling's right," Sheppard said, irritably, trying to bring the argument to an end. "Look, we don't have time for this. Daedalus' sensors confirm Rodney's information – that Michael launched several ships before his cruiser blew. He was on one of them, I'm telling you, and he woulda had Teyla with him. Our priority now is finding out where those ships went so that we can finish what we started and get out there to rescue Teyla. She's counting on—"

“I'm sorry, Colonel Sheppard, but I can't authorize another rescue mission," Woolsey said, quietly, but firmly authoritative. "The loss of life has been too great already, and we can't waste any more time—"

"Waste!" Halling's chair flew across the room as the usually quiet and placid Athosian jumped to his feet. "Waste? How dare you!" He started to come around the table toward Woolsey in a manner that was anything but placid. Sheppard had to confess to being more than a little disappointed when Ronon quickly put himself between the two men.

"Take it easy, Halling, he didn't mean it like that," Ronon said in a soft growl, and with a look at Woolsey that was equally as, if not more, threatening than Halling's demonstration.

Halling angrily pushed Ronon's hand away from his chest. "He meant it exactly that way," he said, and then looking past Ronon to address Woolsey once more, added, "Teyla Emmagan is the leader of my people. We have shown nothing but friendship and loyalty to the people of your expedition, Teyla more than any other, Mister Woolsey. If our assistance, if our friendship truly means so little to you that you would leave her to the mercy of one such as Michael, then in her place I shall make sure that you must suffer our presence no more!"

Trembling visibly, as though the outburst had left him drained, Halling said not another word, but turned and left the briefing room. The automatic doors were nothing but a sigh behind him and Sheppard was certain that Halling would have been more satisfied if he could have slammed the door behind him.

Miran boiled with impotent rage, held immobile by the press of villagers who, not wanting to let go of their daughters and sisters until they had no choice otherwise, had surged to form a tight semi circle behind the line of women who stood forward for The Choice.

He could barely see where Lisstha stood with her arms wrapped around herself. She stood between a younger woman to one side and another, like herself, to the other.

Flanked by protective guards, the Hag walked slowly down the line of women. Every now and then she would reach out to squeeze a pinch of a woman's arm, or to turn her head from one side to another, much as would a farmer checking cattle or beasts of burden. When she did, the women did their best not to cringe, but each of them did none the less. Mostly, however, the Hag waved a small, flattish box in front of each one and paused before moving on.

Miran held his breath when she reached Lisstha. As if she felt the lack of breath in his lungs, Lisstha turned her head to peer in his direction and recoiled only slightly when the ages-old hands reached out to test her young flesh.

He knew it was deliberately meant as a taunt; that the old witch had seen him with Lisstha when she stepped into the clearing. Following hard on that realization his rage sparked and once more caught aflame as he understood that, given what she must have witnessed, the crone would more than likely settle her choice on Lisstha, right or wrong. The inertia that held him snapped and he pushed his way forward.

"No!" he cried even as the old Haradian woman announced her choice.

"This one," she said.

"You can't, she—"

"Will stand as the one chosen from your village," one of the bodyguards snapped.

"Please, Miran," Lisstha wept as she spoke, "I'll go, I—"

"It was your last time, Lisstha," he pleaded, with her, with the villagers, even with the Hag herself, "her last time!"

"Her fate," the crone whispered, already retreating with one of her guards.

"Ensure that she is brought to the stone at the proper time," the remaining guard ordered, as he too withdrew.

The senior staff meeting had degenerated into chaos after Halling's angry departure. Both McKay and Sheppard had followed him, whilst Ronon had only been discouraged from taking out his gun and shooting Woolsey when Jennifer had physically put herself between the big Satedan and the new base commander.

"Leave it, Ronon," she said softly, pressing one of her hands against his chest, much as he had done Halling. The other she pressed against his hand that had already closed around the grip of his weapon. "He isn't worth it."

Ronon shook off her contact and stormed from the room, hardly placated by her words. For several moments afterwards there was near silence in the room. She quickly gathered her papers, nervous and wanting to leave.

Before she could, Woolsey said, "Thank you, Doctor Keller."

"Believe me, Mister Woolsey," she answered with a good deal of hostility in her own voice, "I didn't do it for you, and if I were you, after a thoughtless comment like that, you'd be better to just stay out of everyone's way."

"Much as I appreciate the advice, Doctor," Woolsey answered with a calm irritation that reminded her uncomfortably of her father, "I'm not here to be liked."

"Good," she started, gathering up the rest of her paperwork. "Teyla is a good friend to the people of this base, so making comments like that is going to make certain that you won't be."

"It wasn't just a comment, I assure you," he countered, "It's a standing order."

"Well," she began to head to the door, "I'm sure you'll realize sooner or later that you'll have to… to… un-order it."

"Look, Doctor Keller," Woolsey moved a little in front of her to stop her departure. "Teyla has been with Michael for weeks now. There's no telling what he's done, or will do, or even if she's still alive."

"You heard what Colonel Sheppard said," she argued, even though she knew she should just walk around the man and leave, as the others had done. "He will have taken Teyla with him and—"

"You don't know that," Woolsey said, "He was perfectly happy to leave others behind."

"—and he didn't hurt the others."

"Didn't he?" Woolsey said. As she watched his eyes narrow in suspicion, Jennifer felt her stomach tightening in worry. Was he fishing, or did he already know?

"No," she lied, "he didn't do anything to either of them, in fact, he healed Doctor McKay's wounded arm quite expertly and from what Rodney said, had tried to help Major Lorne too."

"My point is—"

"No, my point, Mister Woolsey, is that I have patients to attend to and don't have time to stand around and argue with you about things that may or may not have happened."

Without waiting for him to answer and make her tell yet more lies, Jennifer pushed past him and slipped between the opening doors.

"There's something you're hiding, Doctor," Woolsey's voice followed her through the doorway, "And rest assured, when I find out—"

Too angry to be intimidated she spun around and slapped her hands against the sides of the closing doors, halting their progress.

"You'll what, Mister Woolsey?" she snapped, "Fire me?"

"Well—"

"Everybody needs a doctor, and on this base, I'm it. And as far as medical decisions go, they're mine as well."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Woolsey asked sounding as puzzled as he was irritated.

"Just…" she turned away quickly as she felt her face starting to flush with color, in guilt, "Just stay out of my infirmary," she snapped and then stormed away.

The meeting hall was awash with villagers as it always was after the visit from the Haradian Hag. Families huddled together in happy relief and elders served chunks of bread and hot tea from massive cauldrons hung over the central fire.

It seemed to Lisstha, who stood with her family apart from the others, that they always forgot that such times left one family facing a loss. Today that fell to her and along with the fear of what was to happen to her she felt crushed by the weight of guilt for all the times that she and her family had behaved as the others were now.

A brief scuffle by the doorway of the hall drew Lisstha from her dark thoughts. Her heart sank still further however when she saw Miran. He was standing at the front of a small group of men, all of them trying to push their way into the hall.

"Turn back, Miran." One of the villagers stepped forward again to block Miran's path. "Your kind is not welcome here.

"My kind?" Miran spread his arms and turned full circle before the villagers, who were gathering now to make an audience for his foolishness. "When last I looked, Agrig, I was still of the village; still just like you."

"Not since you've been preaching rebellion," Agrig answered looking around at the villagers for support. A brief murmur answered his searching, but Lisstha found it hard to tell if it was one of assent or disagreement.

"Rebellion?" Miran spat the word in disbelief, then added in a voice of appeal, "What I advocate is for us to defend ourselves." He walked forward then, pushing past Agrig to take the center of the hall as his own. "Far too long we have let the Haradians rule us with fear; take our young women; make us take in—"

"Have a care, Miran," another of the villagers stepped up to face him. Lisstha recalled the man clearly. He was Ynek, and before this last year she would have expected he would have been one of those men standing behind Miran. Early in the last year, however, he had taken to wife one of the others the Haradians brought, from time to time, to their village, and now Ynek and his wife had an infant daughter.

"It is not the outsiders I blame, Ynek," Miran answered earnestly, "your wife and others like her have been an asset to our village."

Lisstha considered Miran's words on many levels. What he said was true and, whilst his words soothed and appeased Ynek's growing temper, knowing Miran as she did she was sure that he did not mean them in quite the positive way that Ynek had heard them.

With the Haradians taking many of their young women, and the others rejecting love and marriage in the wake of the fear which had crushed even her own strong spirit, births had begun to decline. The village had started to die. If it were not for the outsiders that were brought, it would probably already be gone. Lisstha began to wonder just why the Haradians needed the women of her village quite so much as to go to so much trouble.

"We cannot hear your words, Miran," Ynek told him, "You know what will happen if we try to defy the Haradians. We all know."

"It is a threat, Ynek, and a threat alone that has kept us subjugated for generations," Miran said. The frustration was clear in his voice.

"You don't know that. You can't." One of the older men stepped forwards, still cradling his grown daughter at his side. "There are histories of what happened before, when our grandfathers defied the Hag and brought destruction on the village.

"Tales," Miran said and turned to face the man. "And with no more certainty of truth than the threat of the demons the Haradians say they will bring."

"It is not the demons we need fear," one of the elders spoke up, "the Haradians themselves are more than capable of destroying us, and demons can be banished. No, it is the attacks that will come from the Haradians that would undo our lives if we stand against tradition now."

"It is not tradition," Miran said angrily. "It is slavery."

"No, Miran. We cannot take the risk. The tradition this year will stand and I am sorry for your loss." The elder glanced at Lisstha. She looked away, trying to banish tears from her eyes. Had she then hoped that Miran would persuade them to defend her right to stay with her people?

"Wait," Miran tried once more, "there is more." He turned to face all of the villagers now, his expression fervent. "I have been visited."

"Visited?" One of the women frowned in puzzled concern, and looked over at her husband to add his voice to the question.

"What do you mean, 'visited'?" the man asked.

"An angel," Miran said, "He came to me and offered us a way to bring help to the village if the Haradians come. Don't you see…? A sequence of sacred drawings on the altar beside the Ring of the Ancestors that will summon help to our cause. With help we do not need to submit to the Haradians any more."

"How can you be so sure he is not one of the demons the Haradians can bring if we do not do as they command?" another of the villagers asked fearfully. "You should beware of speaking with creatures beyond our ken."

"He was no demon, Marton," Miran said confidently, "He has offered us freedom and asks nothing in return. He recognizes it is wrong to be slaves to any others. He gave me a device," he held up a small black box. It did not look like anything of use to Lisstha. "He said that once the Ancestors' Ring shows the blue of the light, we should hold the nub and speak into this to summon the others that will help us."

Lisstha sighed. Now he was speaking madness. His grief at the thought of losing her had scrambled his mind.

"Miran, please stop," she stepped away from her mother's arms and came to him then. "Can you not hear the madness in your words? How much do you think this hurts me? That you cannot see past your own sadness to the safety my leaving will bring to the village. I do not want this memory to take with me, Miran. I have loved you, and will always, no matter what befalls me when I leave, but I do not want to remember you insane with your grief."

"Lisstha speaks sense, Miran." The elder stepped away from a quiet conference he had been having with a number of the village husbands. "We all of us understand your grief, but for your own safety, my friend, I fear we have no choice but to secure you until you can find your right mind again… find your balance."

"Grieve for me, please," Lisstha said softly, "But do not insult what I do with talk of things that cannot be."

He watched from the shadows between two buildings as they led Miran away. Perhaps he had been wrong in his choice of whom he would use to bring about that which was desired. Perhaps he had not seen the rashness in the man – only the way he was driven in his love for the girl. If Miran could not persuade his fellow villagers to act, then he would have to try a more direct intervention, as he could not afford to fail in his own mission.

#stargate atlantis #chain of command #virtual season 5 #angst #tradition #politics #conflict #canon typical violence

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