Nothing ( Read more... )

It'd been four (Five? Hell, he'd lost track of time.) days since the Stargate had been discovered, and to say that John was wound tight was an understatement. Not even Pegasus, as strange as it seemed, was this fucked up. They had a Stargate with no DHD, but it obviously worked somehow, since Dylan and the others had gone through. (And he missed ( Read more... )

Falling behind the group in the bed of talking flowers, Polly and Duo get chatty.
Rated PG for flirting and existential angst; dated to Day Two of crack!plot, aka February 21.

After the incedent with the Caterpillar, they were all rather reluctant to eat anything, even the food that had come through the Gate with them from the island. As a result, Dylan was feeling a definite rumble in her tummy to match her growing paranoia that Tweedle Dee or Dum might suddenly spring from the bushes and start bopping them all on the ( Read more... )

[Dylan dreams.]

McKay set his jaw stubbornly, staring up at the Gate. This wasn't right. None of this was right. This was, in all ways, in all possible definitions, very, very wrong.

For starters, what functioning Stargate came without a DHD drive and its crystals. Sure, some freakish peon-minded villager or idiot peasant might have destroyed it, but why? Why ( Read more... )

To think Dylan had thought the island was fucked up. Their rag-tag group was on their third day since going through the Gate, and things just kept getting stranger. Not dinosaur stranger, but more like really bad drug trip stranger. Yesterday, they'd passed through a batch of wildflowers, which started talking to them. And critiquing their ( Read more... )

Two bows strapped to his back, Sirius repeated the message Dylan had given in his head over and over again. He repeated it aloud, whispering to himself as he bounded to the compound. That was the first place he even thought to look ( Read more... )

Boredom can lead one to do all manner of productive things. So it was that Dylan found herself in the middle of a hunting and gathering party with a bag of mangos and kiwi slung over one shoulder, vaguely wishing she had a rifle or a bow so that she could do something less lame to contribute ( Read more... )