taxonomites | Entries tagged with { mary winchester

fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com

Oh, look, a visual that's not accidental for once. Dean doesn't do very many of these, but honestly, he's bored out of his freaking mind, he's tired of lurking around Buffy's castle feeling sorry for himself (or at least, he's ready to pretend like he is), and he needs some fresh air. So, Dean's rolling out of bed, turning on his tablet as he does.

"Yeah, alright, look," Dean starts, reaching up and mussing up his hair. "All you oldies out there, the ones that haven't been coming in like herds of sheep. Gimme a call. I wanna know who's still here."

There's a pause as Dean yawns widely, and rather rudely, into the tablet. Then he continues.

"For the rest of you, lemme give you some advice. Don't piss off the vampires. And if you're a vampire, just try me. I got a crossbow for Christmas and I haven't got the chance to use it yet."

Good job, Dean, way to greet the locals with your charm and grace.

gating-across.livejournal.com

It was February. It would only be a few more months before the first "anniversary" of Sheppard arriving in Taxon. He was painfully aware of it, missed his team like hell, and thinking about it just made him that more agitated. Maybe that was another reason why he had been hanging around Mitchell and Vala.

He wasn't Daniel Jackson. He only knew the addresses in the Pegasus Galaxy and some in the Milky Way Galaxy. If his hunch was right? Taxon was in a separate Galaxy and there was no telling what Gate Symbols they had to use to get the SGC Gate working. It didn't matter if they had enough power in the galaxy to fuel the Gate if they couldn't figure out where to dial to. Alternatively, he had thought about trying to replicate a Puddle Jumper; but the hatch was way too small for that.

After a few days of pacing around either his room or the mess hall of the SGC, Sheppard decided not to think about it. He'd refocus on it when he had a better idea of what the hell he could do. Sheppard headed to the Taxon Mall. He didn't shop, it was more of a girl thing. He only helped negotiate trading parties. This wasn't the same thing by a long shot.

The first thing he went for was the barbecues. February also marked the coming up of spring. If the nice weather was going to come back in Taxon? He wanted a nice one to make stakes on. Hell, maybe he'd even teach Chase how to use it. Which meant he was looking at the charcoal models.

"Not too bad." Sheppard said as he inspected a black one. "Could be bigger, though."

fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com

January 24th. Dean Winchester's birthday.

Dean hates his birthday. The Winchester family never celebrated birthdays, and for the last five years, his birthday had been full of nothing but misery. Five years ago, he'd been electrocuted and had had heavy damage done to his heart. Four years ago, he'd almost been arrested by the FBI for a crime he hadn't committed, but instead had stopped. Three years ago, a coven of witches had conjured up knives in his stomach, nearly killing him. Two years ago, he'd nearly been hanged to death, and-- well, this year probably wasn't going to be any better. Last he can remember of his life back home, it was November, and Ellen and Jo had died. So no, he's pretty sure his birthday is going to suck, Taxon or not.

This is why he hasn't told anybody, though he's unaware Toby has made an announcement about it. Today is just like any other day, to Dean, and that's why he's hanging outside, working on his car. His tablet's on the hood, just in case somebody needs him. He's pretty sure they won't, but hey, he could be wrong.

notcursed.livejournal.com

[Toby sounds vaguely pleased with himself with the transmission comes on, just taking a second to clear his throat before starting with this simple message:]

Hey, listen - I might get killed for this, so it was nice knowing you, but - to whom it may concern, today's Dean's birthday. Do with that info what you will, and you didn't hear it from me.

Have a good one, guys... see you around.

fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com

Every morning, Dean Winchester awakes to the smell of fire and brimstone and rotting flesh, the sounds of screaming and pleading, the sight of things so gruesome the human mind couldn't even begin to imagine them. He takes his morning walk, and then goes to his office, where he starts his work. It's not pleasant work, not by any means, but he does get enjoyment out of coaxing whimpers out of those who are sent to him. He always gets the most stubborn souls, you see.

This morning, he wakes up in an entirely different place. Even as a demon, Dean Winchester hates to wake up in a place he doesn't know.

He doesn't think, just rolls out of the bed he's in and heads for the door (where the hell is he, a castle?), immediately getting lost. This is around the point that the tablet turns on, showing Dean wandering the castle with a rather lost look on his face-- lost, but irritated.

In fact, at one point, when he opens a door and it leads to a room that has nobody in it, people watching the tablet may see a flash of black in Dean's eyes. It's gone a second later, though. Must have been a trick of the light?

[ooc: Dean's glitch! Go go go~]

childoftwo.livejournal.com

Spock is not given to making frivolous network posts. He considers them to be an unproductive use of time that could be better spent assessing the city and its technology. So, when he switches his tablet on, it is immediately clear – at least to those that know him – that something is wrong.

However, the thing that is most unsettling about the post is the not the fact that it has been made in the first place. It is the fact that the half Vulcan on the screen looks, for want of a better word, happy. Although he is clearly endeavoring to control his emotions and logically process what is happening, he is struggling to do so successfully.

“I believe I am feeling the emotion known as ‘happiness’. A curious experience, though the neurobiological responses are not unpleasant.”

It would appear that Buddy has claimed another victim (or given a gift to another fortunate individual, depending on your viewpoint). Unfortunately, Spock is ill-equipped to deal with holiday cheer.

“I request further information on the human holiday known as ‘Christmas’."

Although he understood the historical significance of the festival, and many of the associated rituals, the truly human aspects - the associated emotions, for example - had previously been lost to him. He had never truly felt the joy associated with giving and receiving presents. He had never experienced the desire to eat a copious amount of food or wished to spend an afternoon relaxing in front of the television while it digested.

"What are the protocols associated with the giving of gifts?"

OOC: Backdated to Christmas Eve. I didn't have a chance to post at the time, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity.

fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com

Dean has been feeling... really happy, lately. It's weird, because honestly, Dean has no real reason as to why he should be feeling this happy. His brother's gone, the Apocalypse is pending, last time he checked, his mother was a teenager, and... well, there's just a lot, okay? But for some reason, he's whistling as he walks down the halls of Buffy's castle, nearly skipping, all smiles and good cheer. Right now he doesn't think it's weird, but if he would've shot himself if he'd been able to see exactly what he was doing.

He clicks on the tablet sometime around noon, lounging on his bed in the castle, and if you listen closely, there's Christmas music playing in the background. From his CD player.

"Hey, so what are you all doing for Christmas?" Dean asks, grinning at the masses. Weird.

[Dean has spoken to Buddy. Be afraid. Very afraid.]

iwantafamily.livejournal.com

When Mary woke up, the first thing she noticed was that she was in someone else's bedroom.

The second thing she noticed was the mint green nightgown that she was wearing. It was nice, if you felt old enough to wear that kind of thing. She knew it wasn't hers because she didn't own anything like that. No one saw what she wore to bed but her, but that didn't stop her from wanting to look nice. Sitting up in the middle of a strange bedroom, Mary knew that her clothes were the least of her problems.

Something must have taken her out of her room and brought her to this house. She wanted to know what that something was, but she wasn't going to walk out unarmed if she could help it. Quietly climbing out of bed, Mary made her way over to the closet on the other side of the room. She rifled through the clothing for anything that she could use to hit whatever was down there, and finally found a baseball bat in the corner.

That would work.

As she picked it up, she noticed the silver band on her wrist where she usually wore a charm bracelet. She yanked on the metal with her free hand, unsuccessfully trying to pull it off before she managed to get the small, futuristic looking toy on top of it to work. Mary pressed the buttons carefully, waiting to see what they would trigger. The device looked like something out of Space Odyssey, but it wasn't some silly movie prop. It turned on when she hit the right button. "What..." she mumbled irritatedly, wanting to know what it's purpose was and why it was on her wrist.

Her first guess was communication, but with who? Why?

"Hello?" she let her eyes wander from the screen to the door, half-expecting someone to walk in before she could get a good swing at them. All she wanted was to go home, as quickly and with as little fuss as possible. She'd fight her way out if she had to, but why would they dress her up and put her in a nice room if they wanted to hurt her?

And while she was asking herself questions that wouldn't get answered, who were all of the pictures of? What had happened to the kids?

Mary wasn't sure that she wanted to know.

(OOC: Mary Winchester's teen glitch starts now, kthx.)

iwantafamily.livejournal.com

Mary had planned on spending the rest of the night in her bedroom after Dean left, but then Nathan had asked her to go for a walk, and she didn't want to refuse when he was making an effort to be supportive. He'd reminded her several times over the last couple of weeks that she could talk to him if she wanted to, but she had never taken him up on it. There wasn't a lot Mary could say about her life without making him think she was crazy, or worse, admitting to a past she had never told John about. She walked quietly for the most part, letting Nathan lead in every attempt he made at small talk.

When he suggested getting a drink at the bar, her first thought was to keep walking. It's name, The Angry Skunk, wasn't the most welcoming thing in the world, but she had needed a drink all day. She let Nathan lead her into the bar and pick a booth for them, giving him what she could manage of a smile when they sat down. She couldn't help but think that she'd spent too much time focusing on the world outside of Taxon, and not enough making the most of her time in the city. She didn't know the things that she wanted to about Sam, but she didn't feel comfortable asking Dean to talk about him, either. Nevermind how guilty she felt for being the family member that they'd somehow kept here with Dean. The two of them should have been together, and she never should have been pulled into the city.

"So," Mary unbuttoned her jacket and slid it off, crossing her arms and leaning forward against the table. She didn't care what she had to drink, as long as it was strong. "How's your brother doing? You haven't mentioned him today." She knew why, but she didn't want him to feel like he couldn't talk to her about his family when hers was struggling. That wouldn't have been very fair of her when Nathan was going to so much trouble to take care of her. "I know I've been distracted, but that doesn't mean you should keep me out of the loop."

When people did that, she ended up getting thrown into walls by paramedics. Honestly, her way saved everyone a lot of pain in the long run.

fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com

It's been an overall crappy day for Dean.

He'd gone to sleep in Bobby's house, after spending the last few days at Mary's for Thanksgiving and such. He and Sam had wandered back at some point, having a few beers falling asleep on the couch instead of dragging their asses up to bed, and that probably works out for the better, considering the fact that when Dean wakes up, the house has vanished.

( cut for possible spoilers )

Dean's at the very near point of breaking down, which sucks immensely.

He manages to pull himself together enough to make his way to the Impala, which, thankfully, is still here. He doesn't get in, though, just stands there for a minute. In that minute, he realizes that his tablet is on, and has been recording him staring at the empty place where Bobby's house used to be. Snatching it off his wrist, he throws it as far as possible, making something of a wounded animal sound, and the tablet skids across the ground.

It lands in a position where viewers can still see Dean lean against his baby, fold his arms on the roof of the car and rests his forehead on his arms.

[ooc: sooo on top of Dean waking up with his little brother missing again, he's waking up canon bumped to episode 5x10, Abandon All Hope. Since he was at 5x03, a lot has happened since then, so it's a lot to take in at once. He's going to try to be macho about it, though. :/ ]

iwantafamily.livejournal.com

This could be considered overcompensating, but isn't extra food a good thing?

Mary has been up since six o'clock, preparing anything and everything that she thinks the boys might even remotely enjoy. This is Sam's first Thanksgiving with her, and the first that Dean will remember. It's the first Toby will spend with them - first American Thanksgiving, anyway, and she wants to make sure that it earns a place in their memories for all of the right reasons.

Most of the food has been cooked, not hatched. She doesn't bake her own bread, and she'll hit anyone who calls that cheating over the head with one of the loaves of sourdough that she got from the hatch. She got all of her ingredients out of it, which she has to admit is a lot faster than braving a grocery store during the holidays. The city has a few little perks that she has started to get comfortable with, and simplified shopping is one of them.

There's a part of her that is always going to miss watching a much smaller Dean try to sneak junk food into her cart when she's not looking, but those days are over. Mary is thankful for the opportunity that she's been given in Taxon, and she's trying hard to make sure that the boys don't end up disappointed. They've been instructed to show up, invite friends, and eat as much food as possible. She's not even going to give Dean a hard time about drinking tonight; it's a special occasion. But if they go through what she has in the fridge, she can't promise that she won't tell him to take it easy. Pie and milk go together, pie and beer do not.

If she's watching Doctor Sexy, M.D. instead of football, then he can drink his alcohol slowly.

For now Mary is rushing around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on everything. It's been three days since her run-in with Peter, and she has been careful to cover all of her bruises with turtlenecks. Today it's a red one and a long black skirt, with a floral waist apron that she can't wait to take off. Having spent hours smelling the food and being too busy to pick at it, she's pretty hungry.

Oh, and she's kind of curious to find out what makes Doctor Sexy sexy, too.

iwantafamily.livejournal.com

( OOC: Follows this thread. )

Mary stumbled through the front door, leaning back against it with a soft whimper as she pushed it closed behind her. She hadn't bothered to ask Peter who he was going to go get help from, but she knew that she couldn't keep what was going on from Nathan. Something was wrong with his brother; he had to know what he would be getting into if he talked to Peter when he was like this. She didn't want him to get hurt the same way that she had, trying to calm him down. The way Peter had talked, she knew that a few wrong words and she wouldn't have made it out of that alive.

Her injuries, while uncomfortable, weren't the worst that she had ever endured. She was cut and bruised from the fall, but she hadn't hit her head. The most she was going to have to deal with would be a few days of soreness, although the timing was just lousy. Thanksgiving was a few days away, and this meant that she'd have to pace herself better to get through everything that she had planned. It was inconvenient, but she could cover it up fairly easily. She hadn't had to hide bruises in years, but what clothing wouldn't cover, makeup would.

"Hello?" She called out, her gaze focused on the top of the stairs. Mary kept her weight supported against the door, and her hand against a scrape on her side that felt like fire and had bled through her white blouse. All of these little injuries were nothing when she considered that she was supposed to be dead by now, but that didn't make them sting any less as she tried to force her legs to carry her into the living room. Once she was on the couch she could pass out for a while, and she'd worry about cleaning herself up later. Somewhere in the middle of that, she'd have to warn Nathan that his brother had lost his mind.

Why couldn't anything in her life be simple?

makeshisownway.livejournal.com

Peter stumbled forward and braced himself up against the nearest wall he could find. He was panting hard, staring at the ground. What the hell had happened? The last thing he remembered was fighting with "Nathan." He realized that he had failed the real Nathan, that he was just as pathetic as his father always said, and he couldn't do anything to really help anyone. All the thoughts hit him like a brick wall as he insisted he had all of Sylar's powers and he could stop him. All of them meant even Sylar's ability to understand how anything and everything worked.

His eyes snapped up to the wall across from him in the ally. Peter had no idea where he was in the city. He had dropped Magnus and teleported with Hiro's ability as fast as he could. He forced the lump in his throat down as he put the puzzle pieces together. Just like before, realizing he had Sylar's ability and learning how to control it, he lost control of it. He was so angry that he couldn't control the hunger. He didn't need Magnus's ability, he had Claire's. Going after Magnus just meant people would come after him. People with abilities. People with power.

His stomach did a flop and Peter felt sick with himself. Everything he had told to Claire and Nathan over and over suddenly happened. He slid down the wall and shut his eyes tightly to try and calm himself down. To get a grip on the ability and hide until he knew he could control it. It was going to be harder than he knew, because the city was full of special people.

[ ooc ;; wherever you'd like to be in taxon, Peter can be there thanks to his teleporting powers. :) have fun everyone! we abuse our characters a lot. WARNING: some extreme freaky crap is gonna go down in the comments. violence is a very yes. ]

notcursed.livejournal.com

Toby is seriously right about to turn on his tablet when it happens. He barely notices at first; he feels a little woozy, but while he's paying attention to what he's doing he doesn't exactly notice the change in height. Or hair. Or... well, give him a break, he's focused.

Until he hears his own voice, at least.

"Hey, can someone --"

He almost drops the thing, putting a hand over his mouth and then actually looking down at himself -- holy shit. No, no. This seriously could not be happening right now. What the hell, Taxon.

"Oh God."

the-flyingman.livejournal.com

He was dwelling too much on this. And as aware Nathan was of that fact, he still wasn't sure how to handle it. Between Peter and Claire fighting, something he was unable to resolve and doubted he'd get any better at, to what might be waiting for him on the other side of this thing, and everything else in between... He was clueless. Again.

And while that wasn't anything new, it didn't mean he had to be happy about it. Clueless was helpless, and Nathan despised that. He couldn't even manage to make his own family stick together. Although, whether he liked it or not, part of that was just a side effect of being in the family itself. He knew that just as well as any of them did.

Walking down the stairs, Nathan reached a hand up absently to rub his eyes, stopping at the bottom step to listen. Mary was most likely home, and as much as he didn't want to dump all of this on her, he did want her opinion.

After all, they were supposed to be friends. And maybe it'd help her to know she wasn't the only one getting left behind while the people she cared about moved on ahead of her in time. He wasn't quite to her level, but if this kept on, Nathan knew he'd get there eventually.

He followed the sounds of movement through the house, debating exactly how to approach this. She'd understand, he was pretty sure of that. But Nathan didn't want her to think this was going to be a regular thing either. Of course, if Mary didn't mind that, then he wouldn't either. He did like talking to her.

But if she did, he could take this being it too. Who wanted to listen to someone complain all the time, even if they were willing to listen to you complain right back? It got old, especially if it was the same old problems, the same angst, just with your own death tacked on and your brother deciding to be best friends with a serial killer and why would she really want to deal with th--

He'd just be honest.

Honest was good.

Stopping in the doorway to the room Mary was in, Nathan hesitated. He cleared his throat to get her attention. And he felt like an idiot.

"You busy?"

Oh, that was painful.

iwantafamily.livejournal.com

Mary had been sorely tempted to have this conversation without being visible to the boys, but after some consideration, she had opted to set the tablet on a setting that allowed them to see her. It had taken her a while how to use the device, and she was glad to finally be adjusting to all of the new technology of the city. Everything in Taxon served to remind her that she was a long way from Lawrence, though even a closer match to their home wouldn't have felt like one without John. For that reason alone, there were days when she could appreciate how different Taxon was. Fortunately, today was one of them.

"Boys," she started, quickly remembering that her conversation would be picked up by anyone who was listening. "Dean, Sam, and Toby." That was better. No one would listen to that unless they happened to have the same name as one of them. "I just wanted to warn you that I have a friend staying at the house for a couple of days." Friend wasn't the best choice of word; Nathan was more an acquaintance than anything else, but she would consider him a friend if this went well. "I'd still like the three of you to spend as much time here as you've been - and Toby, I'm dying to meet this girlfriend of yours - but please, try to be nice to Nathan." She knew that Sam and Toby would be able to pull it off. Dean, on the other hand...

"And by nice, I mean leave your weapons in the car while he's here, alright?" Mary glanced up, her eyes wandering over to a picture on the mantel of John and the boys. She sighed, leaning back into the couch cushions and staring down at the tablet again. "Any questions?" It seemed like a fairly simple arrangement to her, but this wasn't what they were used to. The boys would need a few days to get comfortable with it, and by then, Nathan would probably be back in his house.

Regardless, Mary was glad to be getting the hard part over with. She wouldn't admit it to any of them, but she was looking forward to having someone in the house who was around her age and knew hardly anything about her. The boys had their own lives, but she only had them. She felt like she should be more social, and this was as good a time as any to start working on that.

gotaplan.livejournal.com

Sam's making breakfast.

Or - well, he's attempting to, at least. He woke up pretty early to sneak into the kitchen before anyone else woke up, and now he's trying to do two different things - make coffee and attempt a world-class breakfast consisting of eggs, toast, bacon and whatever he can whip up last-minute. It's for his mom and Dean, mostly - he knows things have been difficult for them, and he's pretty sure that his recent possession hadn't made it any easier. And Dean - well, the way to his heart is usually through his stomach.

Sam's attention is mostly focused on brewing coffee, which is why he doesn't exactly notice that the toast is burning up - and that his tablet is on to catch it all.

Not at first.

"No, wait - crap," he mutters, popping up the two blackened pieces of bread and then chucking them into the trashcan.

(At least the eggs are edible.)

gotaplan.livejournal.com

When Sam wakes up, he doesn't remember where he is at first. Or how he got there, even.

All he knows is that he's wearing clothes he can't picture putting on in the first place, and there's something in his mouth - a bad taste, almost like he woke up with a mouthful of blood. But barring the metallic aftertaste, there's a sickening feeling, something he can't shake as easily, and his stomach starts to sink as the memories flood back in a rush.

"Oh, God - Dean?"

And then, moments later: "Mom?"

Please let them be alright, please, please, that thing can't have gotten near them, please, no.

iwantafamily.livejournal.com

There were some things that Mary couldn't ignore.

She wanted to pretend that Dean was a more well-adjusted version of herself; he had his own life, with his own friends and his own interests. He could have simply hated his job, whatever it was in his world, but she was starting to think that there was another reason why he hadn't mentioned having one. They had a lot of off-limits subjects, and she'd hit one right after the other while she tried to get to know the man her little boy had become. He wasn't giving her a lot to go on. It had become quite obvious to her that Dean was deliberately leaving out any detail that he thought she might not like.

Apparently he didn't realize that his reluctance to say anything about his life was a statement in and of itself. It made her feel guilty to think that she could use taking care of him to her advantage, but he'd been staying in her house while he recovered, and it seemed to be an ideal time to get a confession out of one of her boys. She could push a little, get some answers, and then distract him with food, or force him to take another nap. Toby had said that he was doing much better, and she believed him. But as his mother, Mary wasn't going to accept anything less than him being perfectly healthy again, and she planned to make sure that he'd recover as quickly as possible.

When she walked into the guest room, she was carrying a tray with two mugs of hot chocolate, and a plate of warm snickerdoodles. She'd dropped a few tiny marshmallows into his cup, but had also left a small bowl of them on the tray. "You're quiet today. It makes me wonder if you're feeling worse instead of better," she teased, setting the tray down in front of Dean. She picked up her mug and set it down on the nightstand, then moved to fix the pillows he had in back of him for support. "Everything alright?"

She'd get to her interrogation in a minute. Even she knew that Dean Winchester being quiet wasn't normal.

the-flyingman.livejournal.com

It'd been long enough. Nathan had figured out the tablet and the replicators, gotten used to the strangeness of his home being somehow yanked from it's existence in New York to right here in Taxon. That, a bit of drinking thanks to the impressive whiskey from the replicator, and a little bit of time to cope had been enough. Then he'd decided to go out and explore.

How that'd led him to The Bronze, he wasn't exactly sure. Maybe he was wondering just who else he'd run into around here, or maybe he just felt like another drink. It seemed like the kind of place kids would be more inclined to hang out in, and it was on that basis that when he did enter Nathan had already decided he wouldn't be staying long.

But it wasn't so bad, really. He'd been in worse places. And as long as he stayed away from the tequila, it couldn't be that terrible an idea. At least, that was what he was hoping. Getting acclimated had to start somewhere, didn't it?

Nathan got himself a beer and took a seat at the bar, watching everyone else there. Peter and Claire were doing well enough, and though it was likely no one he saw was particularly happy about where they were, they all seemed to be in the same boat. He wondered how long it'd be before he felt the same way, or if they'd be out of there by then. Or if they'd ever get out of there. From what he'd seen flying across the city, that didn't seem like an option. If nothing else, it'd definitely be interesting.

Nathan really was tired of things being 'interesting'.