[open] there's a million, billion, trillion stars

[brightline]

who: marco & YOU
what: catch-all post; some open starters (Perimeter Guard training ground; dreamshare)
when: late Jan and Feb
where: all around the Quarantine
warnings: gore/violence in threads from the nightmare prompt; possible descriptions of morphing (body horror) in any thread - let me know in a subject line if you don't want me to go into gory detail about the not-so-magical-girl transformation sequence



i. the guard

[Thanks to his two week boot camp experience, which was probably one of the worst things he's ever endured, including some of the more nasty battles during the war, Marco's learned one very important lesson - it's totally worth it to have some hand-to-hand training. Chyler had said it herself, technique is important no matter what shape he's in. Besides, he'd spent most of boot camp getting his butt handed to him by an ever-changing round of cadets because he wasn't allowed to morph in training.

So here he is, at the Perimeter Guard training ground, totally rocking a pair of purple camo BDU pants and a T-shirt, with absolutely zero idea where to start.]

Man, this is way harder than it looks in the martial arts movies.

ii. dream a little dream

[Marco's never been one to say no to a trend, so of course he'd checked out the crystal caves. Once he'd taken a stroll through, he'd been really glad he had, too, because the whole thing had been super cool. That had been a few days ago, and after hanging up a nice little collage of some of the photos he'd taken over the mantle in one of the sitting rooms, he'd pretty much been over it.

And then the dreams begin. There's a lot of them. A lot of them are things he'd experienced as a human at home, pleasant things that twist all together - being on TV in front of all the cameras and a live audience, grinning and feeling like the center of attention; hanging out in his pool drinking a Diet Coke with the sun shining down on his face and body, feeling like he hasn't got a care in the world; the sensation of absolute relief when it had really, really sunk in that the war was over, that he didn't have to fight anymore.

Other ones are less distinctly human in nature - soaring through a blue sky, lifting off on osprey wings in the warm updraft of a good thermal, with vision so good he could see a mouse squeaking through the grass hundreds of feet below; being a dolphin leaping joyfully through the waves, with miles and miles of ocean all around, full of joy and freedom; the strength and confidence that come with being a gorilla, massive and proud and able to bench-press a small bus.

Care to join him?]

iii. the nightmare after war (violence/gore)

[Some of the dreams aren't quite so pleasant. While most of what his mind comes up with, for a blessed few nights, is good, relaxing, even fun, he's not really destined to only have good dreams. In fact, having good dreams is nowhere near as common as the bad ones.

When Marco has bad dreams, they're terrible. All violence and gore and fear and pain, his nightmares are full of the screams of animals in his ears and his friends in his head - teenagers who hadn't deserved being thrown into a war they weren't prepared to fight. The bad ones are like a camera roll of all the worst times he's almost died in morph, the feeling of his own guts in his hands, of having his face torn off, being bitten almost in half by a shark; of watching his friends get hurt, a wolf dragging her hind legs, paralyzed, a bear beating an alien with her own severed arm, a tiger leaving bloody footprints in the snow as its feet freeze to the ground over and over with every step.

The worse dreams are all about the terrible choices he's had to make. The times he'd had to fool the Yeerk controlling his own mother and lead her to what he'd been sure was her death, having to choose to save his father at the expense of his closest friends and allies. Every bad dream leaves him waking up in a panic, gasping and sweating and crying out. Some things...well, he wouldn't choose to share, but he doesn't always have a choice.]

Comments

the hork-bajir chronicles (chyler)

[brightline]

the hork-bajir chronicles

[That bad feeling is still lingering in his gut, as he heads out to see Chyler and show her his Hork-Bajir morph, a weird feeling like something is seriously wrong with the situation.

The truth is, Chyler had never gone easy on him. She's always given as good as she took, put him in his place, not bought into his self-spun hype. It's one of the things he likes about her, actually. But this time? He'd offered to show off to her, and she'd just agreed. Not only that, she'd said 'yes please,' which was honestly pretty uncharacteristically polite of her. Usually she's busting his chops, and the fact that she suddenly wasn't is a little weird.

But he can't resist. She asked him to come and show her, so he's gonna do it. Poking his head into the common area of the Perimeter Guard barracks where she said she'd meet him, he raises his brows.]

Hey, Chyler, you around?

[childofaxios]

[ If Chyler were the type to pace, she'd be doing it. As it is she's standing near one of the common area's windows, one that faces out toward the training yard. She's picturing Corbulo's grounds, the way she so often does in quiet moments, in moments when no one else is around. And always, always, in those moments, the grounds are cratered, smoking, and littered with the dead.

She hears Marco's footsteps a moment before he speaks, which gives her enough time to turn and to make sure her expression is under control. ]

I'm here.

[brightline]

[When Chyler turns around and her expression isn't expectant or pleased or basically...well, anything, that feeling of trepidation gets a little more serious. For a moment, he just stands there looking at her, fidgeting a little bit, and then he shrugs.]

Wow, this is awkward.

[A pause.]

So uh, how do you wanna do this thing?

[childofaxios]

Only if you make it so.

[ There's her usual crispness, the lift of her chin and the raise of an eyebrow. She's fine, this is fine, she can do this.

She doesn't want him to back out. ]

How much room do you need?

[brightline]

[Marco rolls his eyes a little.]

Look, you're kind of staring at me with this weird blank expression, so that's totally the awkward part. You sure you're up for this? It can get pretty nasty.

[Still, he undoes the front of his jeans and slides them down his legs, mouth pursed. There's a pair of black leggings underneath, and he kicks his way out of his socks and shoes as he stands up, shrugs off his T-shirt and hoodie, leaving him in a spandex top.]

Don't you dare laugh. It's either this or I'm naked.

[Not that her laughing wouldn't take about five awkward levels off the situation.]

[childofaxios]

[ Chyler rolls her eyes, standing back. ]

I've seen Ivar do it. [ Which isn't an indicator that she's prepared this time, but it's as close as he's going to get.

Deep breath. Exhale. Chyler braces her hands on her hips, something bordering on amusement in her face. ]

Looks like a cryo suit. And I've seen boys naked before, Marco, it wouldn't be revolutionary.

[ CROSSED ARMS. It's easier if she just treats him like she always does. It's easier if she doesn't think about what comes next. ] Go on.

[brightline]

Man, that guy's totally stealing all my thunder with you.

[Marco's brows raise, and he offers her a slightly crooked smile. It's still awkward, but it's less so when she's starting to go back to her usual dismissive Chyler self. It feels a little more natural than that weird polite blankness she had going on before.]

You might have seen boys naked before, but those boys weren't me. Wouldn't want to blow your mind or anything.

[Licking his lips, Marco exhales heavily and closes his eyes for a moment, focusing on the form of the Hork-Bajir in his mind. For a long moment, he's still, and then, with a sickening crunch and a sort of gooshing sound, his neck sprouts upward at an alarming pace, until his normal head is on top of a long, serpentine neck.]

Gross.

[A moment later, the rest of him starts catching up, his shoulders broadening, his spine elongating, a tail sprouting from the base of it, long and serpentine while his shoulders hunch forward and his hips widen. There's a grinding sound as his knees reverse direction, and he crumples forward, catching himself on hands that are swelling and enlarging, the knuckles popping as they become pronounced and thick. His torso broadens, muscles rippling up and over his shoulders and chest and belly, his thighs, even as his skin becomes more leathery, thick and slightly scaled and green.

And then the blades start to appear. Razor-sharp, they emerge at every joint, bursting from his forearms, his wrists, his elbows. The nails on his fingers and toes thicken and harden into claws, sharp and menacing, and his nose and mouth meld together like playdough, then harden into a beak as three forward-swept blades erupt from the top of his head. In the end, he's a seven-foot monstrosity that looks like it's somewhere between a snake, lizard, and T-Rex.]

<See what I mean?>

[childofaxios]

[ SURPRISE, IT'S STILL GROSS.

Chyler watches the entire process with her eyes squinted half-way shut, trying not to imagine how it must feel to be at the center of those crunching bones and that shifting skin. She can handle the neck, the tail. That's fine. Then he starts getting bigger. His skin starts to get scaly.

She takes a step back. She can feel her heartbeat jackrabbiting upward, that adrenaline rush that she never gets in the practice field. The feeling she associates with bombs going off a block away, with ducking and running as gunfire starts to come from everywhere. (The feeling she associates with that final, fatal shot.)

It's the spines that do it. The spines and the size of him, a mountain of monster in the familiar surroundings of the rec room. She can't shake the panic that roars in all at once. The sense that she has to warn someone, she has to protect someone, she has to fight, she has to run. This thing shouldn't be here--

--this thing is Marco--

--this thing is going to kill her--

--stop it, don't panic, don't--

She doesn't know she's backing up until she hits the wall. She doesn't know she's going to throw up until she does it, upper body lurching as she pukes all over the ground at her feet. ]

caricature of intimacy (nico)

[brightline]

caricature of intimacy

[One of the huge bonuses about living in a house full to the brim with people around his own age is that Marco can hang out alone whenever he wants to, but when he doesn't want to, he doesn't have to. And tonight he doesn't really want to.

After a week or so of weird intrusive shared dreams, he's not really in the mood for either sleep or being alone, so he makes a decision. It's been a while since he and Nico hung out one-on-one, and he heads over to the door of Nico's suite, leans against the wall beside it and knocks.]

Hey, Nico, you home?

[deathkid]

[ after the debacle with loki and potentially losing his friendship, nico's been in no mood to chat with anyone. but he knows he can't hide away forever. not like he had any time things fell apart with percy. still, he's been sticking to his suite when he's not been out with tj, so he's there when marco knocks on the door. he opens it, looking worse for wear, and like he hasn't been sleeping ( he hasn't, he has nightmares of his own ). but he beckons marco in, not wanting to be rude nor push away any more friends. ]

Hey, I'm here.

[ there's some punk rock music playing in the background and it looks like he hasn't been in his bed at all. the room is fairly tidy, and nico settles on the edge of the bed, waiting for whatever marco wants to say. ]

What's up?

[brightline]

[When Nico calls out that he's in his room, Marco opens the door and slips in, closes it behind him and leans against the wall beside it. Raising a brow, he takes in the scene - punk music playing, the room's tidier than his, and Nico's sitting on the bed looking at him expectantly.]

I mean, not a lot. I didn't need to tell you anything special, I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out.

[A shrug, his brows raising together this time.]

Guess I just wanted some company.

[deathkid]

[ company. it's a nice thought, especially after everything that's happened with loki. but nico isn't sure he'd be interesting at all to spend time with when he's gloomier than usual. still, marco offered and nico can't help but want a little companionship too, so he pats the bed beside him and gets up to change the record on the player. ]

I know what you mean. We can definitely hang out. Talk about comics or music or something. Do you like the Sex Pistols?

hot alien food date (minsu)

[brightline]

hot alien food date

[After setting up a time with the handsome stranger from Friendr, Marco's all good to go for eating out at some weird alien food places. He's sat down and done some research, places with good reviews and ingredients he's excited about, made a list of them, and even mapped out a route between them that's scenic and easy to walk. He also picked out the perfect outfit - a pair of jeans, a purple T-shirt and a hoodie under a nice black leather jacket, a nice pair of athletic runners. Nothing too fancy, but nice enough that he doesn't look like a total scrub.

Then he's off to the Communal Housing building where he told Minsu he'd meet up with him. He'd taken a quick selfie and sent it so the other young man would recognize him, and when it's the appointed time, Marco is lounging on one of the chairs in the lobby of the building until he sees Minsu and waves a hand.]

Hey, there you are.

[Getting to his feet, he walks over, grinning a little - and his picture probably hadn't quite conveyed his size. Marco's always been short, and getting past puberty hasn't change that all that much, he's barely above 5 feet and has narrow shoulders. But it's still pretty obvious he's got a big personality, and he's grinning, dark eyes bright.]

I hope you are so ready for a weird alien food feast, you wanna see my agenda?

[foxtrots]

[this could be a lot more unpleasant. minsu knows that, appreciates it. he wasn't feeling his best the moment that he arrived in riverview, but there was happiness in his life. maybe there can be some happiness in this one too.

the promise of a new friend and new food is a good start. minsu doesn't waste any time, taking a good look at marco's picture the moment he sends it, and then almost immediately recognizing the face from that photo when he comes to join him. his stature is a little surprising, but then most people don't get to choose their body the way that minsu could.]

Ah, you're cute.

[okay, he probably shouldn't have said that right away, but what minsu thinks, minsu generally says. he smiles at him for a second, expression even more bright and excited at the mention of the f-word. food.]

I'm ready. Can you hold a feast?

[genuinely curious rather than doubting. he knows first hand that appearance isn't everything.]

[brightline]

[Honestly, the whole obsession with food could be weirder. After all, Marco's used to Ax and the fact that even after three years he'd still been wacko over a cinnamon bun. So rather than weird, this is actually a little nostalgic.

Minsu is cuter in person than he had been on Friendr, to Marco's pleasant surprise, and he can't help but grin a little at him. Especially when Minsu says he's cute, and Marco stands a bit straighter, squares his shoulders.]

You too, man. Super cute.

[He's never been one to shy away from speaking his mind. When Minsu asks if he can hold a feast, Marco's grin takes on a slight cocky overtone.]

Can I ever. Don't let looks deceive you, my man, I may be small, but I can more than pack away a feast. Let's go.

[Grinning, Marco gestures toward the nearest bus stop.]

Just a short bus ride to downtown from here, then it's just walking.

[foxtrots]

I don't mind. It'll work up more of an appetite, right?

[this is also a little nostalgic for minsu, bus rides and short walks to do errands during the day. picking up unfamiliar ingredients and very familiar burgers before returning home. the last time wasn't really that long ago, but he already feels homesick for it.

but he's found the best distraction for that.]

So have you discovered anything here that you didn't like?

[knowing minsu and his morbid curiosity when it comes to food, he'll probably want to try it too.]

iii. nightmares

[killthepast]

[ It figures that pleasant dreams aren't what pull his mind into a stranger's. No, it has to be the nightmares. And though he doesn't fully understand what's going on-- it's just a maelstrom of viciousness and tragedy-- Ren knows war. Except, his own experiences with battle are vastly removed from the sort of violence on display.

Blasters and lightsabers seem positively tame in comparison.

He doesn't know why he's seeing any of this play out before him. He doesn't even know what he can do. This isn't his fight, and these aren't his nightmares.

Uncertain, he moves away from the worst of it, to a wounded animal, bleeding out on the ground. Crouching down beside it, he regards it curiously, then extends a hand, to reach out to its mind with the Force, and offer it a sense of peace as he tries to understand what's going on here. Connecting with an animal, it's something he hadn't done since he was his uncle's apprentice, and he doesn't even know what-- if anything-- such an attempt will yield. This isn't real, after all. ]

[brightline]

[These are Marco's nightmares, every one of them, nightmares that echo real life, that swerve wildly between reality and strange twistings of things he remembers, horrible reality swirled up with things that happened but not at the same time - being a dog-sized flea and unable to come out of it, unable to regain his human form, melding in with the horror of morphing an ant or termite.

They're intense enough that at first, he doesn't realize that there's someone else here with him, because he's in the form of a gorilla, lying on his side, arms clutched around his belly. It's slit open, he can feel his guts, he wants to push them back inside but he can't, and he can't morph out, can't morph out, not when his brain is slowly shutting down...

And then there's someone over him. Dark gorilla eyes flick up to the hazy face above him and he sucks in a ragged breath as the man reaches out, and he feels something. Something strange. Something like thought-speak but different. A sensation that he hasn't felt since Elfangor all those years ago.]

<Who are you? What are you doing to me?>

[The voice is thought-speak, Marco's voice inside the other man's head, a telepathic communication.]

something's on your chest better get it off (john)

[brightline]

something's on your chest better get it off

[Marco's not really looking for John when he heads into the PG area, he's looking for Chyler. Lately, he's been thinking about her way more than he should be, especially considering the whole Ivar thing, but he can't quite resist testing things out, seeing what could maybe happen, if anything. After all, Chyler's the one he thinks might understand him the most out of anyone he's met here. Rey understands his trauma and loneliness, Ivar understands his ruthlessness and what it meant to be at war - Chyler seems to get both of those things, and that's pretty damn rare.

So, while he's in the PG and totally allowed to be on the grounds, he's still a little out of bounds heading into the area reserved for the RR-1 unit. Doesn't matter to him, though, he's still poking around, looking blasé and purposefully cool, at least until he sees John Sheppard.]

Hey, Sheppard, right?

[deploy]

[John's racking and locking the squad's rifles when Marco wanders into RR-1's station. He gives the cage a rattle, watching him out of the corner of his eye before dropping the key into his pocket and turning around.

It's not that John doesn't trust people not to mess with their equipment- actually, it is.]

Yeah. I'm Sheppard. You're not the pizza boy, are you?

[John recognizes him on sight. He's just pulling his leg, as John does. Marco's a member of the aerial unit. They've never worked the same shift, John usually flies with Jim or Poe, but he's seen the kid around.

Around Chyler, more specifically. John pays attention.

He folds his arms over his chest, leaning against the nearest wall. Sizing the kid up doesn't take more than a flick of his eyes. Marco's even more of a runt than John was at his age.]

[brightline]

If only. Man, if I were the pizza boy, I'd have pizza, and this whole situation would be way more enjoyable.

[Because honestly, nothing is not better with pizza, right?

At least Marco has zero interest in tampering with RR-1's equipment. After all, he's a one-man menagerie of violence when he wants to be. A gorilla with a gun might be cool, but it's not really necessary or worth trying to get into John's rack.]

Marco, by the way, even though I totally know you know that.

[And of course he notices that John's giving him the eye. Smirking a little, he leans against a wall, mimicking John's pose, arms crossed.]

So, is Chyler around?

[Super casual.]

[deploy]

I'm not gonna argue with you there.

[Chowing down on pizza would be a lot less awkward than whatever this is.

John doesn't know what Marco's slinking around for, not until he mentions his second-in-command by name. Then it all clicks into place. John doesn't quite smile, but he adjusts his stance with a roll of his shoulders. Relaxing.]

No, she isn't.

[brightline]

See, not as dumb as I look, right?

[Marco grins, arms still crossed, one brow raising slowly. And then John says that Chyler isn't around, and Marco huffs out a breath.]

Lame. You know where she is?

[deploy]

I never said you looked dumb.

[John just assumes most people under 20 are dumb based on age alone, because he sure as hell was. That said, there are always kids like Chyler who grew up too soon too fast.

He doesn't think she would hang around with Marco, which he's definitely noticed she has, if he were just your typical tween idiot with hormones for brains.

John checks his watch. Chyler has the same one, a black g-shock. John gave it to her.]

She's taking the stats of our last mission to wall R&D, and I told her to grab us some lunch on the way back, so she'll probably be a half hour, or so.

Is she expecting you?

[brightline]

[Marco's brows raise at that, and then he laughs.]

That's a new one. Most authority figures usually think I do. And, you know, maybe I play to it a little. Always better if they underestimate you, right?

[A little smirk that fades a little while he watches John check his watch, notices it's the same as Chyler's and files that away, tilts his head as he watches John's face. There's something a little sharp about his eyes as John looks back up at him, and it remains even as he smiles in an easygoing way, shrugging narrow shoulders.]

Nah. I was just gonna come by, ask her if she wanted to grab lunch together.