Nick spent a lot of time just plain old not talking about what was going on with him. He knew it didn't make sense, but he was so reluctant to burden anyone else with his problems. He didn't know why all of his old fears and anxieties had been coming back, but attributed it to the fact that so many other people on the island were talking about the terrible things they were seeing and experiencing. It was their stress rubbing off on him, he was sure of it.

But nothing he did seemed to make it any better. His days and nights both were filled with flashes of a time from years gone by, when he was under six feet of dirt and rocks and ants, when he had a gun propped under his chin because he was losing hope that anyone was going to find him and bring him out alive. In bed, Nick tossed and turned, hoping that he would just nod off to a dreamless sleep -- just one night, that was all he asked.

Sleep came eventually, but it was an uneasy one, and when he woke, he felt groggy and sore, like he'd been running a marathon in his sleep. His back hurt and his head ached with the dull ring of a headache that already overstayed its welcome. With a groan, he moved to roll over, to press himself closer to Karen, to find an anchor to safety and sanity in her.

Only, when he did, his arm made contact with something solid above him. Nick grunted and cracked his eyes open, only to see nothing but pitch black dark, the kind of dark he'd seen only once before in his life. He tried to sit up, and his head thumped against something solid. He was breathing faster now, not even thinking about staving off the panic attack that was bubbling up inside of him. Nick reached out and felt around with his hands -- solid walls on all sides of him, holding back what he was sure was endless dirt. He let out a whine of panic as he kicked out, feet connecting with the bottom wall of the coffin. Scattered to his sides were a few glow sticks, and, he was sure that if he looked hard enough, he'd find a loaded gun. Just in case.

This wasn't a dream. He knew that immediately. The nightmares never felt this authentic.

It was happening again. He didn't know why. He didn't even know how he got there. As he pressed his hands against the thick plexiglass wall above his face, his thoughts were for Karen. After all they'd been through, after all the people they'd lost, this was what was it would all come down to? Someone stealing him away in the night for -- for what? Revenge? Just to mess with him, when he'd worked so hard to get his life back together? And now this.

He'd done this before. He knew how it went when he had a team of cops and scientists on his side, looking for him. Now... now, he just didn't know.

It didn't do anything to help before, but he was frustrated, and angry, and so, so scared, and he screamed, six feet underground, and pounded his fists at the top of the box.

This was not the way he wanted to die.

Even with the island turned into some sort of Victorian wonderland, the island residents couldn't be deterred from having their traditional New Year's Eve party. Tradition meant a lot, after all, especially in a place where things were so often unpredictable. After the year they'd all had -- the disappearances, the magic, the murderous toys -- something normal was highly welcome.

And for Nick, the party was always a welcome milestone in his life, too. For he and Karen, so many years ago now, this was where it had all started. After much thought and nervous waffling back and forth, he intended to make this year's party the most memorable of all of them.

Dressed in the best Victorian finery he'd managed to find -- it had been all three piece suits and top hats and cravats for him, with the way the clothes had shifted to match their new environment -- Nick wound his way through the different tables at the party, picking up two glasses of champagne, and then heading back to Karen's side.

"The countdown's going to be here before we know it," he said, handing her the glass.

All things told, Nick had to admit that the sudden development of an amusement park dominating the island was a pretty cool one. Years past had seen all sorts of violence and creepy things and overall weirdness around this time of year, and so Nick was thrilled that this year, the worst thing that happened, so far, was getting stuck on that awful, awful It's a Small World ride. He still had that damn song stuck in his head. He did have to admit that he was a little relieved when the park disappeared; he'd wondered, in the back of his mind, whether or not the rides were all going to turn into death traps at some point.

It was early still, and Nick was reluctant to get out of bed. Groggily, he nestled closer to Karen, wrapping one sleepy arm around her. Distantly, he thought he heard growling from across the room. Dismissing it as Utica grumbling at a passer-by, or grumbling at them for not being awake yet, Nick ignored it, closing his eyes and tugging the blankets up a little further.

Even before being placed onto the Council, Nick tried to get to know everyone in the lab. He didn't always succeed, however, and he was trying to rectify that, now that he was looking out for the lab in a more official capacity.

He'd noticed a new man -- presumably a new arrival -- hanging around the lab, very intently working on projects, and Nick resolved that he'd go and introduce himself the next time he was in the lab at the same time.

Soon enough, Nick found himself with some spare time, and the new man was in the lab. He looked busy, but Nick wasn't about to let that stop him. He was curious about the projects that people worked up for themselves, even if they were outside of his field of knowledge.

Nick puttered about in his work area for a bit, tidying his desk, before crossing the room to talk to the man. "Hi there," he said, waving at him as he approached. "Do you have a minute?"

State of Me: Just as I'm FINALLY finding my RP love again, I'm starting a new job, so October may actually be a clusterfuck of miserable proportions. I hope to be able to keep up, though; maybe being in a new job that makes me happy and makes me have to think more will make me want to write more? IDK.

Nick Stokes: Has Upcoming Plot, but not for a couple of months, though there are Little Things I probably should start setting in motion soon. If October is calm-ish and I have time to tag, I would like to start having him make new friends. So many of his friends have disappeared, and he's such an outgoing guy that he should probably know more people than he does. (PS, he gets along with everyone.)

I've been thinking about giving him an item -- I was thinking of having his storage locker from the lab show up randomly somewhere; I just need to figure out what would be in it. Or figure out a better item. I thought for about a minute about putting him in Nightmare Plot, but I don't know if I can be that cruel to him now. He's so happy, I don't know what freaking him the hell out would accomplish.

Also, if you want to know why your pup should be friends with Nick, this gif is all you need:

That is all.

And this is probably something for a slated post, but other than Nick and Abby and Bones, are there other forensics/CSI types on the island still? I know there have been a couple of dead bodies pop up on the island as items, and while I've been too frazzled lately to jump in, it's also like, well, once a CSI, always a CSI, right? Anyway, what I'm saying is that I wonder what's going on with the forensics area of the lab, if there's a need for it, and if so, what can I/Nick do?

Matt Farrell: Needs plot. Needs friends. Maybe I will have him do something like break his computer or something awful like that, and then he will have to fix it. IDK. Matt gets along best with other nerdy types, although he's not going to be an ass to anyone, unless you are John McClane and you are making fun of Matt on the Worst Day of His Life. Maybe my next post for Matt will be him watching his canon again. I canon punctured him a long time ago, but it was mostly off-screen, and I just imagine him watching his canon and heckling it the whole time.

The end.

Mayko's first thought when she wakes up isn't that she feels strange or that she's somewhere unfamiliar, though both of those things are true. Her first thought is there's someone in my bed, when she's pretty damn sure she went to bed alone.

"Mmph," she says against a shoulderblade, her fingers stretching out against the firm, smooth skin of someone else's stomach. For a moment, when she's in that fuzzy space between waking and sleeping, it's hard to remember that she should be questioning this, that she shouldn't just sink into the comfort of another person's body. Her fingers wander for a moment, up over stomach and ribs and....

It's then that she realises she's in bed with a woman, and even if she'll admit it's possible she had a few drinks the previous evening, to account for her lack of memory of her bedpartner, she's pretty sure there's not enough beer on the island for that.

"Uh. Good morning?"

That? Is not Mayko's voice.

Mailbox for Nick Stokes. 

November Activity

Severus Snape 

Voldemort

Scout Finch 
11/4 - Tag - Pearl

Joscelin Verreuil

Nick Stokes
11/4 - Tag - Greg
11/7 - Tag - Karen

Matt Farrell

Beck

( The Golden Age )

( Guess I'm Doing Fine )