The SGA Gen Comment-A-Thon Pt. 2

[kriadydragon]

This is a continuation of the gen comment-a-thon. Things were getting a bit crowded so I decided to spread the comment-a-thon out to cut back on the clutter, so to speak. Part one is still open to answering prompts, and remember, there is no limit to how many times you can answer a prompt.

Click here for round one

Rules: You'll be presented with a list of prompts. The challenge, should you choose to accept it...

Readers: Pick a prompt from the list below – only one – and request a story based on that prompt using the following format:

Prompt:
Characters:
Request:
Don't want:

Writers: Pick a request and comment with a story or pick a prompt from the list and comment directly with a story. Posting a story in your own journal or elsewhere is allowed so long as you comment here with the link. Please put the title of your story and/or (should you not have a title yet) rating in the comment header. If you are commenting directly with a prompt of your choosing, please put the prompt at the start of the story (Ex. Prompt: *your prompt here*). Also please warn for anything you feel should be warned for (blood, violence, torture, etc) at the start of the story.

But here is the catch: The story must be gen. Gen, for this meme, are stories that do not focus on a pairing nor anything sexual, though acknowledging canon pairings is fine so long as they are not the focus.

Permitted:
Aus
Crossovers
Commenting with a link to the story
Any questions you may have (just please put “question” in the header).
Posting Anonymously

Not Permitted:
Real people fiction
slash
het
Anything sexual (ex. non-con, off-screen sex, etc).

Prompts:

Bondage
handcuffs/chains/ropes
slavery
drugs/drugging
fetishes
role playing
humiliation
cuddles
dominate
subversive
whipping
beating
messy
dress up
pets
petting
hugging
animals
de-age
body alteration
touch
taste
toys
tentacles
bed sharing

Remember, all stories must be gen.

This meme is all about having fun, so have fun with it :D

Comments

Messy

[(Anonymous)]

Prompt: messy

Characters: Sheppard, Ronon, Teyla, McKay, and other supporting characters

Request: Sheppard, appearing at the entrance to the mess hall completely wet from head to toe, messy hair (of course), confused, and with, at closer inspection, a head wound. Everyone and everything in the mess stops in bewilderment or shock. His team is the first to reach him. Fill in the before and after (comfort, please).

Don't Want: n/a

- "Serial prompter", Diane

The Season of Fall 1/4

[ellenoz.livejournal.com]

Hi there serial prompter Diane :)
Here's my effort. It's a little off the mark, 'cos I just read the part of your prompt that said, "everyone stops in bewilderment and shock and the team reaches him first." Whoops, Sheppard told me he wanted to walk over to his team in my story ...

The Season of Fall

The city of Atlantis awoke to angry seas and a threatening sky. Dawn made way for a grander light show, as towering black clouds rolled in from the horizon on sets of rumbling thunder and lightning bolts. Teyla placed her breakfast tray on the table, zipped her jacket closed and sat down opposite Ronon and Rodney as heavy rain lashed against the mess hall windows. Ronon briefly looked up from his mountain of food to nod at her, then resumed shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth. A lap top was open in front of Rodney and his untouched breakfast tray sat to one side.

Although there appeared to be little hope of any meaningful interaction, Teyla attempted to begin a conversation.

"Good morning. A good day to be off world, I believe."

Ronon made a snorting noise and continued the methodical eradication of his food. Rodney stretched a hand out and located his cup of coffee without looking away from the computer screen. Teyla softly sighed, took a sip of orange juice. The noise of the rain grew even louder, and her thoughts turned to the team’s previous mission. They had assisted in the evacuation of a flooded village and Ronon had taken a heavy fall in the muddy conditions. He’d been fortunate enough to only have bruises and minor ligament damage to show for the mishap. His crutches were nowhere in sight, so it was probably safe to assume his condition was improving. Although knowing Ronon as she did, it could also mean that he’d flung them over the balcony and into the ocean.

"How is your leg feeling today, Ronon?"

"Good."

"Yet you still remain on restricted duties?"

"Yep."

Teyla drew a deeper breath. Rodney looked up, glanced around and said, "Hey, it's raining."

A true test of patience, Teyla thought, one she really didn't care to participate in today. She wished instead for company with the capacity for grace and good humor.

"Where is Colonel Sheppard?" she asked.

Rodney closed his lap top and pushed it away. It collided with Teyla's tray. He pulled his breakfast closer and began to eat like he hadn't seen food for several days. Teyla slid her chair and tray sideways to make more room.

Ronon had finished his meal and was wiping his hands down the front of his shirt. "Saw him earlier. Said he was going for a run."

Teyla understood that even in a city the size of Atlantis, John sometimes struggled with feelings of confinement. He was a man who found contentment in open skies. Teyla smiled. An early morning jog would serve him well. When she did see John she would invite him to join her in stick fighting practice that afternoon.

Rodney glanced past Teyla's shoulder and said, "Here he is now."

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

Prompt: Touch

Characters: John, team

Request: John finds himself in a situation in which he has to sacrifice a lot of his personal space (hug, sleep in close quarters, people keeping there hands on him constantly). He soldiers through because he has to for some reason (a diplomatic thing?) But when it becomes apparent that John isn't too comfortable, the ones doing the touching step things up to amuse themselves watching John squirm. In steps his team (or a team mate), saving John from the discomfort.

Don't want: John teased/made fun of by his team because of his discomfort or his team treating his discomfort lightly - I'm not touchy/feely myself and I can tell you there are times when it's torture when people refuse to respect that. some people just aren't big into touching, and that shouldn't be looked down on.

Though I don't mind if the touching ends up being taken a little too far (someone puts a hand under John's shirt at the small of his back, grips the back of his neck, grips him in a way where he feels restrained or that really does restrain him) I would rather it didn't go too far (someone gropes John between the legs, for example).

[radioshack84.livejournal.com]

Working on it! Give me a bit. =)

Only Two (PG)

[radioshack84.livejournal.com]

Story can be found here:

Only Two (http://radioshack84.livejournal.com/16667.html#cutid1)

Taste

[(Anonymous)]

Prompt: Taste

Characters: John Sheppard, any supporting

Request: Lt. Col. (or Col.) John Sheppard either crashes an aircraft on Earth or is involved in an aircraft crash on Earth; he wakes to a familiar taste, one he hasn't tasted since his last crash in Afghanistan (sense memory perhaps); Shep whump.

Don't Want: Permanent impairment; main character death

Thank you!
Diane

[sholio]

Prompt: body alteration
Characters: Ronon + any other canon character
Request: Someone unexpected (Woolsey? Keller? Rodney?) has a tattoo. Ronon glimpses it, and asks about it. Cue conversation about the meaning of whatever-it-is in the other character's personal history or culture. (Could also be a scar if it's got some kind of social history to it -- a smallpox vaccine scar on the shoulder, say, or an appendectomy scar?)
Don't want: Ronon being too clueless about Earth culture (he watches movies and talks to the Marines, after all!)

Is that a tramp stamp?

[tari-roo.livejournal.com]

“Is that a tramp stamp?”

Jennifer whirled around, pulling down the back of her uniform, glaring at Ronon, going bright red. Sitting on the edge of a gurney in the Infirmary, waiting patiently to be stitched up after yet another training accident resulting in blood spilled, Ronon smirked at her.

“Ah what? no... no... no!”

“Looks like one.”

Going even brighter red, she stood and stammered, “How do you even know... it’s not a tramp stamp!”

Ronon smiled, “You sure? Looked like a butterfly.”

Scowling and trying for tough, she hissed, “Well, it’s not and let’s get back to stitching that gash.”

And if Jennifer was a little rough with her sutures, Ronon didn’t say anything or squirm.

*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga

“Is that a tramp stamp?”

The Marines in the locker room fell utterly silent as Lorne slowly turned around, his eyebrows nearly meeting as one in confusion. Ronon pointed to the small design between his shoulder blades. One foolhardy Marine actually giggled as Lorne drawled out, “No.”

“Looks like one.”

Two more Marines guffawed and Lorne sighed, “It’s the Eye of Horus. Supposed to protect you.”

“Oh.”

“Sir?” Lieutenant Martin grinned and Lorne pre-empted him with, “I got it before I even knew about the Stargate Programme. Thought it’d be cool to have something watching my back. Only found out later that Ra was using something similar.”

There was less laughter, but still a few smiles and Ronon said, “Oh. Cool.”

*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga

“Is that a tramp stamp?”

This thud of silence in the staff meeting was even louder than the locker room and Woolsey paled as he pulled up his sock, covering the tattoo. He uncrossed his legs, sat up and straighter and glared at Rodney who was going red trying not to laugh. Dr Keller was blushing as well, and Major Lorne was fighting a grin. Only Sheppard looked serious, even as he tried to catch a glimpse of the tattoo, from his side of the table.

“No, Mr Dex. It is not. “

“It looks...”

Woolsey smoothly interrupted, pressing down the papers before him, “That tattoo is the result of too much saki on a conference in Tokyo. I lost a bet.”

“What is it?” Sheppard asked, still serious and edging his chair around the table for a better angle.

“It is the Japanese character for courage.”

Ronon nodded and smiled, “Cool.”

Rodney however burst out laughing and almost fell off his chair. Everyone else started to smile in earnest, and even Woolsey’s lip quirked in a half grin.

Sheppard though, face earnest, said from under the table, “Are you sure it doesn’t say Soup, sir?”

Woolsey went bright red.

*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga*sga^sga

Fin.

[sholio]

Prompt: handcuffs/chains/ropes
Characters: Teyla & Rodney (plus bonus team?)
Request: After getting the mission report from "Trio" (not to mention everybody getting trapped throughout the city in "Quarantine"), John decides Rodney needs to add rope-climbing to his skill set, and as Teyla is still on maternity stand-down and he's always looking for things to keep her busy, why not give the job to her? So Rodney and pregnant Teyla are off to some remote part of Atlantis with ropes and climbing gear for some team bonding.
Don't want: Well, obviously Teyla is not supposed to be climbing the ropes herself.

[sara-wolf.livejournal.com]

This is very intriguing. I might give this one a go.

[sara-wolf.livejournal.com]

Prompt: Touch
Characters: Rodney, team
Request: Rodney is held captive somewhere for a period of time. When his team rescues him, they discover that he was tortured and as a result, can't stand people touching him. He freaks out over the littlest contact, even someone brushing up against him by accident. And it's up to his team to try and get him desensitized.
Don't want: more focus on the hurt than the comfort.

[tari-roo.livejournal.com]

Prompt: Body Alteration

Characters: Sheppard and anyone, but mostly Sheppard

Request: AU if possible. A culture of warriors whose battle dress includes an armoured corset. Sheppard is preparing for battle and hiding an injury, but has to go out and lead his men. Throw in a few scars and the aftermath of wearing the corset whilst injured and \o/

Don't want: excessive injury or unrealistic counter culture

John Sheppard and the Corset of Doom Pt. 1 (PG-13)

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

It really wasn't all that different from a Kevlar vest - thin metal panels instead of plastic but spaced just enough in between to wrap the thing around the torso, and long enough to protect from chest to abdomen.

But instead of laces in the sides to adjust the fit, the laces were in the back. And you didn't tighten them according to the shape of your body.

You tightened them to reshape your body.

Body armor John's ass. It was a damn corset; a Losesian thing, the wasp-waist look in deference to some narcissistic god with a fetish for slim and trim to the extreme. And it was extreme, because not a single Losesian had so much as a love handle. Yet they tightened each other's body armor and didn't stop until they let loose the loudest growl they could force through their constricted bodies - a battle cry (to cover up their grunts of agony).

John would have loved nothing more than to turn his moans and other pained reactions into something more manly, but his body wouldn't allow him the luxury of machoism. The jumper crash had cracked a rib and opened up a couple of shallow wounds. But not before he'd managed to bring down the hive ship and darts that had been culling the planet. The Wraith had been forced to ground, which meant an army of desperate predators between the surviving Losesians and the 'gate.

Which meant fighting their way to freedom.

In a damn corset, with a cracked rib. But to fight John had to wear it or let others die protecting his ass. Losesian law: battle armor was a must.

Lorne yanked on the heavy threads of John's cors-- battle armor, squeezing a cross between a grunt and a whimper from John's throat.

"Sorry sir," Lorne gasped. He was breathing fast and shallow to make up for the lost lung capacity. He pulled again. "Damn, how do they... fight... in this things."

John could only answer with another whimper. Lorne was well aware of his injuries, and just as aware that they would need every able bodied, or semi-abled bodied, fighter they could get.

Lorne finally tied off the laces. "Hope that's waspy enough for them."

"Me... too..." John squeaked. Straightening sucked. It more than sucked, it was like getting laced up all over again. The Losesian men and women eyed him as though they had never seen anyone express so much discomfort over the battle armor. But they didn't say anything, thank goodness. Probably too polite. Dressing in the cors-- body armor had meant going shirtless. They had seen Sheppard's scars and had been openly and cheerfully impressed. A good warrior was a battered warrior.

John Sheppard and the Corset of Doom Pt. 2

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

He was also a miserable warrior. John's rib cage felt three sizes too small, his lungs three sizes too big, the floaters were digging into his liver and an invisible knife was digging into his side.

But he slipped on his shirt and tac vest (with much gasping) and turned to his fellow wasp-waisted (or as wasp-waisted as they were going to get) marines.

"Ready?" He wheezed. Rather than speak, his men nodded, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

Minutes later someone sounded a trumpet and the race to safety was on - corseted warriors surrounding their non-warrior kin. They poured from the cave where they had taken refuge, falling silent when they reached the woods.

Lorne had a point. How the hell did anyone fight in these things? John could barely breathe and the pain from his abused injuries was making him nauseas. Sweat tickled down his neck to soak into the battle armor's thick weave. He stumbled, his men stumbled, and those not stumbling catching them and holding on until they had righted themselves.

And of course the Losesian warriors moved with the grace of someone not wearing a corset. But the gate wasn't far and, with the hive ships and darts disabled and hopefully unable to dial, shut down.

They slowed on approach, John and his men thankful beyond words for the respite. Those warriors at the front moved toward the end of the forest at a crouch, scoping the scene on the other side - an open field with no cover and no places to escape. One man held up his hand, flashing all five fingers four times. Twenty Wraith; as though the day couldn't suck any worse.

Apparently it could when the warriors let out another grunting battle cry and charged.

"Damin it!" John hissed. He had hoped for something more strategic and a hell of a lot less noisy. The Losesians were going to get slaughtered. John braced himself for wave after wave of falling soldiers. The Wraith fired their stunners...

And the Losesians kept running. John blinked.

"The cors-- I mean, battle armor," Lorne said. "They must counter the stunners."

It took a moment for the realization to wrap itself around John's brain. Sure enough, if a Losesian was hit in the chest or stomach, he was fine. Head or legs, he went down. But even a warrior with a numb leg was still a warrior, firing his rifle even while he was sprawled on the ground. They took the Wraith down hard and fast with straight shots to the head or crippled them with shots to the knees.

Suddenly bolstered, John grinned and waved his men forward, adding their rapid p-90s to the slow but efficient rifles.

It was beyond a pain in the ass trying to maneuver in the battle armor. John's pain climbed higher, the need to puke overwhelming. But he kept firing, pushing through the rising tide of agony toward the gate. Lorne had beat him to it, all ready dialing to the alpha site. Once the gate activated and the way was clear enough, the rest of the warriors followed with their unarmed people, grabbing the fallen along the way. They all rushed through the gate, John, several marines and several warriors lingering back to make sure no one uninvited followed.

John finally leaped through the gate. He stumbled out the other side.

Then he promptly passed out.

John Sheppard and the Corset of Doom Pt. 3

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

As was the usual song and dance of having passed out from too much pain, John awoke to chemical smells and the happy chirp of a heart monitor. In and of itself it was an awesome thing to become aware of, but not quite as awesome as finally being able to breathe. There was a tightness to his side, but the tightness of an injury numbed by pain meds, not a cors-- battle armor.

"Finally with us, lad?" Carson asked from somewhere to John's left. John peeled his sticky eyelids open then blinked until the blurry blob of flesh and blue that was Beckett came into focus.

"Obviously," John rasped, then coughed. Not fun on an aching chest, even one that had been numbed. Carson remedied the issue with a blessed ice chip.

"What's the damage this time, doc?" John sighed, mostly in relief. Ice chips were also very awesome.

"Busted rib and two more cracked."

John stopped chewing on the chip and looked at Carson in alarm. "I thought it was just cracked. Felt just cracked." And how sad a commentary it was that he knew the difference so well.

"Aye, it probably was. But Lorne told me you were wearing some sort of armor that must have made it worse. We were a bit concerned for a while. You had a spot of internal bleeding, but it was light and managed to stop itself, so no surgery."

"Glad to hear it," John said, and resumed chewing his ice.

"Let me give you a quick check, Colonel, then you've got a visitor."

"Oh," John said pleasantly. He assumed the visitor his team or a team member.

Who probably knew why John had passed out.

And who would never let him live it down.

John tensed,"Oh, crap." Carson, who seemed to have developed the ability to read minds, could only give him a helpless shrug, followed by a pat to the foot after the quick check of John's heart rate and blood pressure. Carson left, abandoning John to his fate, the bastard.

Lorne entered not minutes after.

"Major," John greeted.

"Colonel," Lorne replied. "Beckett says you're doing better. Glad to hear it. You really freaked us out when you collapsed."

"Sorry. Kind of inevitable."

Lorne smiled. "Not to worry. Don't pass this on but Styles and Jimenez dropped two minutes after you did, and they weren't even injured."

John grimaced. "Guess their laces must have been pulled extra tight." He then cleared his throat, squirming nervously. "Speaking of, uh... you know..."

"Removed them at the alpha site and gave them back to the Losesians."

John relaxed with a long, slow exhale. "So no arriving in Atlantis wearing corset things."

Lorne's smile widened even as his brow furrowed. "Corset things, sir?"

John's drug-fuzzy mind stumbled over the response. Then he smiled. "Exactly."

The End

[(Anonymous)]

PROMPT: Dress Up
CHARACTERS: AU John Sheppard; partnered with his SGA team as members of his department/precinct
REQUEST: Detective John Sheppard goes undercover as a homeless man to be in close proximity to a drug bust or a suspect in a murder investigation (writer's discretion); Shep whump; set in major US city (NYC, LA, DC, etc.)
DON'T WANT: Vegas version of Det. John Sheppard

She's baaack! ;) Just tossing another one into the mix. -Diane

[kazbaby]

Prompt: de-age
Characters: Ensemble but focus on John and Cameron Mitchell
Request: Cameron is called in to temporarily take over the Military command on Atlantis after John is mentally de-aged to an infant. Because they've been best friends for years, Cam also has John's power of attorney and is listed as next of kin. The rest of John's team helps him care for John while Rodney tries to fix the Ancient device that was pretty much destroyed when it activate in response to John's presence.
Don't want: Sheppard getting back to normal quickly.

de-aged Sheppard

[(Anonymous)]

Awe, this sounds good. We didn't get to see Cam and Sheppard together in enough episodes. I think they'd be really good friends, too! I hope someone writes for your prompt! -Diane

Diary of a Angst Ridden Temporary Commander Part 1

[tari-roo.livejournal.com]

MICOA Day 35

Things are not looking up. It’s been 46 days since the accident, and McKay is no closer to fixing the ancient device than he was when I arrived. In fact, judging by his attitude and appearance, he’s even further away than before.

John meanwhile continues to keep Torren company and sure it sounds awful, but he genuinely seems happier with the kid around, like he has someone his own age to play with. Teyla doesn’t seem to mind, on the surface, but the other day I caught her looking at the two ‘kids’ with such despair that I felt sick.

Torren was sitting on John’s chest, waving a stick in the air and they were both giggling like mad as he batted at Ronon’s dreads. It was a happy little scene, even Ronon was smiling. But Teyla, damn, she looked like she was about to cry and not even realising that I was watching made the slightest difference, she continued to look devastated.

*

Day 2, Atlantis.

Well, this is uncomfortable. Yesterday everyone was polite and smiling, optimistic of Sheppard’s recovery and my stay being short. I was hoping so too.

It had kinda come as shock to the Atlantis staff that I was Sheppard’s next of kin, power of attorney dude. But even though we’ve only known eachother a few years, we both agree on a few things. Airplanes and flying rock, seriously. The Dallas Cowboys suck. And neither of us want our teams, our friends to be in the position of having to make the kind of decision I now have to. It’s not easy being objective and rational when people you love are hurt, dying, or reduced to the age of three, mentally. And Sheppard agreed to make the call for me, and I for him.

So here I am. And the SGC and IOA jumped at the chance of getting an interim commander who might actually listen to them. Major Lorne was, is, deemed far too loyal. Ha, I’m kind of insulted. They sure don’t know me too well.

But I am stepping into the same shoes Stephen Caldwell did, shoes that stepped on everyone’s toes and made people twitchy. Shoes that tried to take over. The Interim Commander Shoes.

Oh well.

*

Day 10 of Interim Command

I hate this. I really, really hate this. The Marines look at me, nod, say yes sir and obey. But I can see the look, the ‘you’re not him and don’t try and be him’ look. And hell if I know how to stop making them think I am trying to replace Sheppard. Lorne’s not so bad, he’s direct and supportive and lets me make decisions without feeling like a heel. The Marines though, damn, they’re a tough crowd.

But what really sucks, completely and utterly sucks, is everyone else. They’re polite, smile and nod. But no one actually talks to me. I walk into a room and the conversation stops. I walk past and people pause and wait for me to be out of earshot. It’s like I am some IOA stooge or spy or hell, leper. And I’m a nice guy! Really I am.

So I’ve been spending time with John. It’s easier thinking of him as John, rather than Sheppard. Sheppard is cool, experienced, dangerous. John. John is a little kid who likes pudding and cars. And Torren.

You can’t separate the two of them without one or both screaming or crying, or both. But that’s ok. It’s nice visiting them, playing cars, building lego, whatever. John seems oblivious to his situation, likes to play, goes down for a nap easy enough, eats his greens. Torren is the little terror, but then Torren has a mom to defy. John seems to remember that Teyla can kick his ass, on some level, so he’s obedient and pliable.

Right until you try and take away his damn plane, or Torren.

Doesn’t say much either, but damn if he doesn’t look cute asleep, thumb in his mouth, blanket draped over him.

Now, I’m really depressed and this entry is turning into ‘diary of a teenage prom queen’.

Shit.

*

Diary of a Angst Ridden Temporary Commander Part 2

[tari-roo.livejournal.com]

Day 15 of Mitchell’s They Like Me, They Really Like Me, Command.

Who knew? Who knew all it would take is Sheppard escaping his minders, Ronon and McKay, and getting lost in the city.

Panic, chaos, disorder had nothing on Atlantis in disarray trying to find him.

Enter me. Cool, calm, rational and in command. Yes, you heard me people, in command.

Search teams organised, Carson in the chair, Torren on the PA, and we were organised. Like chickens! (Damn, I love that movie). And hell if we didn’t find that tricky bastard in 15 minutes! After 45 minutes of chaos, panic and disorder.

Mean Uncle Rodney who had lost his temper and Embarrassed Uncle Ronon who had fallen asleep were right behind me when we found John down near the West Pier. He was far from the edge, quietly playing with his little metal airplane and the moment he saw us, ran into my arms.

Getting hugged like I was his long lost friend was pretty cool, and sad. The Marines with us looked away, McKay looked like he’d been poleaxed and Ronon... looked like Ronon. It didn’t take much to get John to comply and come in, but hell if the ice around me disappeared like it was a massive spring thaw, because suddenly I was one of them. People who cared about Sheppard.

Torren was annoyed that he’d missed out on the fun, but the two best buds were soon involved in drawing Uncle McKay’s ugly face (my suggestion) and we were revisiting the McKay’s progress on the ancient device.

He didn’t have good news. Probably why he lost his temper and yelled.

*

Diary of a Angst Ridden Temporary Commander Part 3

[tari-roo.livejournal.com]

Day 21 of Mitchell’s Interim Command of Atlantis (I swear its temporary)

I think Lorne is messing with me. We have a command meeting and review stuff. I ask, “And what would Colonel Sheppard do?” and he just smiles, like he’s daring me to guess and make a mistake. And I thought he was on my side.

Some Traveller Captains want to meet with Sheppard to discuss a trade opportunity and they aren’t taking no for an answer. It has to be Sheppard. Woolsey keeps sending me reports to review and sign off. The staff sergeants inundate me with updates and reports on the Marines. Zelenka and half of the department heads can’t seem to make a decision without consulting me. The other half make decisions I wish they had consulted me about. And I haven’t been Offworld once since I got here.

The paperwork backlog is crazy and I can’t believe that Sheppard’s command is this bureaucratic and mindnumbing so, I have come to the conclusion that Lorne is messing with me.

But most of these guys have not served under or worked with General O’Neill. And if they did, it was years ago. I know some tricks too, learnt from the best paper dodger in the history of the Air Force.

John snuck into my room last night. Why me and why my room, who knows. Both Rodney and Ronon are closer and Teyla is right next door. But he came to find me. Wouldn’t say why he was awake or anything. If he’d had a nightmare, he was tightlipped. It is definitely high on my weirdo meter though having a fully grown man sharing my bed while we watched SpongeBob on my laptop. John didn’t seem upset but he was trembling.

Teyla came to get him after a panicked radio check and her smile was sad. John was all sleepy boy, tousled hair worse than usual. His small wave as they left was cute. I watched SpongeBob all night, unable to sleep.

*

Day 23 of Mitchell’s Totally KickAss Command.

Ha. Victory. Throw away some important requisitions. Screw with a few vital team rosters. Roster staff sergeants for scientist wrangling. Mistakenly order the mess hall to serve nothing but red jello for two days. And suddenly the paperstorm stops and people start acting like adults.

Lorne actually apologised to me and I pretended I had no clue what he was talking about. Thank you, Jack.

But in all fairness, it was a tough day too. For everyone. McKay got everyone’s hopes up with excited declarations of ‘nearly there’ and ‘I’ve got it, I’ve got it.’ I was late for the not so secret report back from Carson and Rodney, which everyone knew about but their collective expressions of gloom was answer enough.

The brief blip on the monitor had been that... brief. John had blinked, stared at them and the bright lights of the ancient device and started crying. Honest to God howling. Not even Torren had been able to calm him down, in fact the little tyke had started crying too. Carson had had to sedate him, while Teyla took Torren away.

Sheppard is still in the infirmary, knocked out for the night. I’m glad I didn’t seem him crying. Really, really glad.


Shit, my victory definitely seems hollow now.

Diary of a Angst Ridden Temporary Commander Part 4

[tari-roo.livejournal.com]

*

Day 41 of CMICOA

I’m ignoring the IOA’s emails. It’s up to me to make the call on sending John back to Earth, both as the idiot with his power of attorney and the commander of Atlantis. Woolsey actually left the decision to me too, too torn himself. Sending John away helps no one. It just means we’re giving up.

On Earth he’d just be a grown man who lost his mind. A vet with major PTSD. He’d be away from his friends and the city he calls home. It’s not a decision anyone wants to make. I sure as shit don’t want to make it.
John and I watched SpongeBob again last night. He seems sad.

I’d like to think he knows... on some level how bad things are.
And sometimes I hope he doesn’t.

*

Day 43 – Victory!

John gave Rodney the finger today.

And said, “Ass!”

And then continued to play lego with Torren.

Carson had to give him some warm toffee as a bribe to get into the scanner later. But hell if it wasn’t good news.

The atmosphere on Atlantis is upbeat and relieved. And I am not insulted at all. Hell, no!

*

Day 50 – Mitchell is Leaving!

Ok, not today, but soon. Sheppard isn’t quite 100%, not even close. But his lapses are fewer and his determination to win back his sanity (as it were) is fantastic to see. McKay seems a little miffed that he didn’t save the day and that Sheppard seems to have healed himself, but no one else cares.

Sheppard spent the day with me, catching up on the goings on and seemed to be on the same page as me. True, halfway though he started doodling and drawing airplanes on the page, but hell, he probably did that in meetings before anyway.

We watched Black Hawk Down last night, with his team, and if John fell asleep half way through, no one cared. Or mentioned that he started sucking his thumb.

*

Day 32 of Being in Charge of the Lamest Archaeology Expedition in the history of the World

Got a very delayed email from Sheppard today during our scheduled check in with the SGC.

He seems upbeat and completely recovered. And it was nice to hear that his welcome home had included an avalanche of paperwork and stupid requests. I feel a little more liked now. And it’s nice knowing who he’s talking about when he complains about Hamma’s requests and Hunter’s obtuseness.

We never talked about SpongeBob and I don’t know if he remembers, or what he remembers if he does, but he did thank me before I left. It was an odd goodbye, kinda awkward as it only could be between two friends with some odd memories between them. I’m glad I didn’t have to make that call. And I’m sure Sheppard is glad too.

As much as I love being on a Gate Team in the Milkway, I really really miss Atlantis. Sure, if I was there, I’d outrank Sheppard and it’d be damn stupid idea to accept what would essentially be a demotion, but hell if I don’t want to head up a Gate Team on Atlantis.

Sure, sure, there’s a 305 with my name on it somewhere on the assembly line. Carter seems happy with the Hammond. But I know she misses Atlantis, and there is just something so addictive and magical about that place.
So, yeah. I miss it. Miss being in charge of SG1 too, but with Teal’c on Chulak more days than not, and Carter on the Hammond¸ Vala, Daniel and I are not SG1. We’re just the sad leftovers. At least Atlantis is a viable option.

Damn, teenage angst dear diary moment here I come again.

Mitchell, out.

*

Fin

[(Anonymous)]

Another "Dress Up" prompt. I heard Dr. Neil de Grasse Tyson mention micro-meteorites on The Colbert Report the other night and thought "ooh! Another prompt idea!" LOL So, here goes...

PROMPT: Dress up
CHARACTERS: Col. John Sheppard, McKay, Zelenka, Ronon and Teyla for comfort; any others writers feels would add to the story; possibly new Atlantis Doctor (Keller stayed on Earth), but Beckett is okay too.
REQUEST: Post Season 5, Atlantis back in Pegasus; Sheppard goes on a space walk and gets hit with a micro-asteroid or meteorite (whichever is most accurate) similar to the circumstances Zelenka and Sheppard were in in "Adrift".
DON'T WANT: Main character death.

No pressure. I'd like the main idea of Sheppard getting hit by a micr-asteroid, but writer can change it up if the story needs it. Thanks, as always, to anyone who wants to take this one.

-Diane

Messy/Taste/Humliation

[jlnyr.livejournal.com]

Prompt: Irresistible Tag
Characters: John, Carson, Rodney, Ronon, Teyla, Elizabeth, Lorne. Anyone else you want to add in from canon.
Request: I've read stories that continued this episode and I would love to see one, where John's cold is played up more. In the ep, we saw him coughing and sniffling, but I would love to see more of what getting stunned by Ronon's gun would do and what happened between the time that John got back from dropping Lucius off on the mainland and when the team brought him back to his home planet and how John dealt with cleaning up McKay's quarters on top of still everything else. Play up the cold angle more and then the side effects of the herb on him.
Don't want: No death. Can't really think of anything except no slash.

I've got a couple of ideas for some of the prompts that have been posted and once I'm done with school I'll try and write them up. Hope that's okay.

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

Prompt: Body alteration

Characters: Sheppard, team

Request: Sheppard having lost weight. But wait, there's more! Sheppard, skinny as a rail, helpless looking on the outside but wild and dangerous on the inside. I would really love a feral Sheppard - maybe having survived torture, drugging, mind alteration, attack by savage creatures or something else - going nuts (and I mean totally-off-his-rocker, beyond-all-reason insane) and attacking his team (maybe going so far as to bite them and/or kneeing Ronon between the legs. The latter isn't normally a favorite form of whump of mine, but it's something I can see a totally a feral Sheppard blinded by fight mode doing). For some reason I keep picturing him shirtless as he goes nuts and attacks, but that's not a must. And, of course, comfort at the end :D

Don't want: John being made to feel guilty for losing control - John feeling guilty for hurting his team is a given, and would be cruel of his team to make it worse. Something going wrong with Atlantis being the cause. John getting kneed between the legs right back. Sheppard getting stunned and ending the matter: I don't want it easy for the team to stop him ;)