( OPEN ) something's gotten out and into the airvents

[spaceling]

WHO • everyone!
WHERE • all over the ship
WHEN • august 6-9
WHAT • level 4 becomes accessible and something escapes that makes everyone's emotions go haywire.
WARNINGS • possible non/dub-con warning for sex, drunkenness and general emotional affect



on level 1, especially the bridge, characters will feel sleepy, cuddly and comfortable.
on level 2, especially near the mess hall, characters will feel drunk.
on level 3, characters will feel aroused.
on level 4, there will be no apparent effect on characters.
on level 5, characters will feel exceptionally sad.

the strength of the effects can range from mild to all-consuming, at the discretion of each player. the effects on the character will last while characters are in the area, with all areas having the aforementioned effects for three days, after which they'll dissipate as though nothing had ever happened at all.

Comments

[selection]

LEVEL 2 • OPEN

[ a man has got to eat. solo is almost out of food salvaged from the alien ship that had docked, which means back to terrible mess hall fare. he hates everything about it, but usually he manages to complain with poise and elegance in his bearing, or so he'd like to think.

today, he's pouting. flat out pouting. ]

All of this is really quite awful. [ he says, words slurred just so. ]

LEVEL 3 • OPEN

[ solo's rooms are on the third level. they're large enough, not warm or well-lit and not offering many luxuries beyond some semblance of privacy and space. he survived the war; he'll survive this, too. perhaps with no less complaining, but that's another matter entirely.

today, he wakes not with any complaints on his mind but need burning under his skin, more consuming than anything that he's felt in a long time. it makes it difficult to think, difficult to assess whether it's normal or not. arousal is not an unfamiliar sensation, but usually there's a reason for it.

he doesn't remember his dreams.

when he leaves his room, his suit does not sit as immaculately as usual, the lines of it ruined by a sizeable erection that he can't seem to will away. no dream could do this much.

he knocks on illya's door with every intention of pointing out that something very strange is going on here, except when his partner opens the door, solo leans in to and fits his lips over illya's without a single word spoken.

alternatively: solo could run into your character on the corridors of level 3. ]

LEVEL 3 - because i KNOW WHAT IM ABOUT HERE

[razh]

[ they had agreed, in not so many words, that having rooms on the same level of the ship would be more efficient. that way, in case of any sort of issue that could arise, they would be close enough to provide assistance. aid. help. it has been something of a relief, knowing that with each day that passes that they're still locked in whatever game this is supposed to be, at least he's not alone.

today, however, it's having something of the opposite effect.

see - illya has had trouble sleeping since they appeared on this...whatever it is. something about being cooped up, held here, has kept an uncomfortable energy under his skin.

today, though, he wakes up with that energy, which in itself isn't strange - but there's something different. a kind of burning, a kind of need. he immediately takes stock of what's happened, what could have possibly changed, but he comes up with nothing. so he tries to get up, he tries to work out some of the stress, but it doesn't help. if anything, it makes him more uncomfortable, and after a futile few minutes he ends up abandoning the idea to pace around his room.

should he go talk to solo? maybe it's an effect of the ship? his gut tightens at the idea of seeing the other man - probably already dressed, probably lounging comfortably around his room, probably... illya's throat is suddenly very dry, and he shakes his head, trying to clear it.

no. going to solo would be a bad idea at this point. he needs to get better control over what's happening to him now, and then he can go to the other for more information.

except that's when the knock on the door happens, and illya - desperate for any kind of distraction from his mental image of the cia agent, moves quickly towards the door. ]

Yes? [ he doesn't see who it is at his door until solo is pushing through it, kissing him without a warning of any kind, and illy'a body keens into the feeling - his hands shooting out to grab at solo's sides and pull him closer, in through the door and letting it close.

the kiss is consuming, and illya kisses back, his body curling into the sensation and feelings almost as if that insatiable burn has both lessened and grown. it's a few seconds before he pushes napoleon - not gently - back against the wall with a hard shove, his arm across solo's chest to hold him in place, and his hips pressed close, keeping him pinned against the wall. ]

What- [ he growls out, his brow a hard line. ] -are you doing?

HELL YEAH

[selection]

[ it's efficient, they've agreed, and neither has used the word relief or comfort. they're not in need of comfort, now, are they? fully grown men, agents, self-sufficient, strong —

right now, solo is very much feeling in need, though comfort isn't quite the word he'd use for what he needs. illya's lips are soft under his at first, and then his partner kisses him back and he's being pulled closer. pleasure sparks along his body and his eyes close of his own accord as he moans into the kiss. he moans, too, when illya presses him against the wall and follows him, keeping him pinned.

it's — it's undignified and it's a loss of control that he should hate, that he does hate, but it also feels impossibly good and he wants, needs illya so much closer. ]

I think [ he manages, swallowing dryly and licking his lips. he tries to tell himself that he's not chasing the last of illya's taste there. he tries. ] I think there's something wrong.

[ he drags in a breath, hips inching forward despite his best intentions, pressing insistently against illya's. the pressure almost makes him moan again. ]

LISTEN IM HERE FOR A REASON AND ITS GOING TO HAPPEN

[razh]

[ comfort is not possible when they're being held hostage. no matter the lies they have out before them, or the situation at hand - they are being contained for a reason, and they needed to be prepared to survive. that is, obviously, the only reason they're on the same floor. the only reason illya connects with solo on any level about their experience. they're partners, they're going to do their work together.

except that solo moans under his mouth, and it sends all kind of shocks down the back of illya's spine. his body arches into it, maybe a bit more than necessary when that second sound escapes the cia agent.

solo licks his lips, and illya can't take his eyes away from the way his tongue moves. the way it moves across his lips. that burning under illya's skin ignites even hotter as they stand here like this, pressed against each other but not touching. ]

Did you- [ he swallows thickly, setting his jaw as he has to tear his eyes away from solo's mouth. ] Did you feel it? When you woke up? [ he feels solo arch into him, and he has to grind down on his teeth to keep the sound inside his throat. he's losing control, he's been trained better than this, he can handle whatever kind of drug they've apparently released on the ship.

but can solo? ] It has to be the ship.

gOOD

[selection]

[ solo is not very good at resisting temptation. more often than not, he doesn't even try. instead, he'll give in and pretend as though it's precisely what he wanted all along. it is, in a way, isn't it? otherwise he would hardly be tempted. over the years, he's cultivated the art of being unashamed, of pretending that he is in more control than he is.

even that is failing him now. illya swallows, staring at him, and solo has to fight to keep in a noise that would betray just how desperate he feels, how needy. ]

Yes.

[ he felt it when waking up. he feels it now, too. and it has to be the ship, illya's right about that, because of course solo's noticed that illya is an attractive man, he isn't blind, but it's not an itch he's thought to scratch before today. (it anyone should see him come undone, he's not sure whether it's better or worse that it be his partner.) ]

Maybe — it's something we need to get out of our systems.

[mindtricks]

level one

[ normally, anderson holds herself rigidly. it's a soldier's posture, for all that the hall of justice is not technically a military institution. the hierarchies are similar and much of the training is; how could it not be, when there's a war raging on the streets of mega city one?

she'd come to the bridge to see if she could make any sense of the readings today. it's become somewhat of a ritual, a way for her to start the day. it helps her separate the days and it gives her a sense of purpose, even if she's not been able to understand enough to make a difference yet.

she isn't alone this morning, and while she's still (barely) managing to maintain posture, hands clasped behind her back and her rifle hanging by her side, she keeps looking at the other person's shoulders, wanting to lean in, wanting to rest her head there. when she catches a stray thought from the other occupant of the bridge thinking along similar lines, she abandons decorum before she can think better of it. before she's thought much at all, in fact. ]

Let me. [ she says, quietly, and settles her head on a solid shoulder, bringing her arms around a warm body. anderson doesn't remember the last time she hugged someone. ]

level three

[ anyone up for telepathic sex? hit me up and i'll write you a specific starter ]

[revlon]

LEVEL 2

[ She's just trying to have lunch, for pity's sake. It's not the most palatable meal, but she endured years of rationing both in combat and in London so she knows from experience that beggars can't be choosers. Be that as it may, she's finding today's selection to be particularly good.

Well, "good" is relative, but she's less bothered by it than usual. In fact, whatever she's eating today is just the right amount of greasy that she ordinarily doesn't crave. It's not a burger and a milkshake from the automat, but it just as may well be. Peggy's happily munching on her food and turns to whoever sits right next to her, speaking around a full mouth. ]

It's good today, isn't it? [ Her words aren't slurred, but she's speaking slower than usual, as if she's making a conscious effort to keep it that way. She smiles; it's bright, easy, and open in a way she usually isn't. ] 'S bloody good. Here, have a bite, see for yourself.

LEVEL 3 (CLOSED: Steve Rogers)

[ Since Peggy's jarring arrival on board, she's kept — well, not her distance from Steve, but she's been polite. Warm, open, all of the above, but she's still left wondering if pursuit is a good idea or even still in the cards. Their reunion had been so heartfelt, but she's plagued by conflict as well: her time in Los Angeles had not been uneventful, especially in matters of romance. There was Dr Wilkes, there was Daniel Sousa — one incorporeal, the other engaged to be married. But there was Steve Rogers first amongst them all, and now he's here. And one never does forget a first love. They've made up for lost times in other ways, reacquainting themselves with one another, learning about where their lives had gone after 1945. But they haven't really given in to this rekindling of their relationship, not really.

And then there's today. Today, which — well, today has already been an odd one. Peggy had felt giddy and loose and strangely chatty around lunch at the mess hall. She'd chalked it up to something environmental or nutritional (they're in space, it's not like her body is used to this). But she still feels a little disoriented after all that and she ends up wandering onto Level 3.

The lightheadedness remains, but she also feels a little — hot. The ship is ordinarily freezing, but it's almost as though the heating has been turned on here. Peggy presses a hand to her flushed cheeks and leans against a wall a moment to try and regain some composure, but as she takes slower, deeper breaths to clear the fuzziness in her head, her heartbeat just picks up speed. There's a buzzing under her skin she can't quite place, but then she hears someone approaching and she looks down the corridor to see who it is. ]

Steve.

[ Her voice is soft and it breaks on his name; and as soon as she says it, as soon as she sees him, her stomach flutters. No, not her stomach, she realises; the feeling goes lower, deeper, more intimate. Bloody hell, Carter, get a hold of yourself! She's always a study in deliberation and control. This is so unlike her. She shakes her head and pushes a hand through her hair, taking another deep breath (it doesn't help) as she closes her eyes. When she opens them again, he might be right in front of her and perhaps he'll notice how her gaze darkens just looking at him. ]

Sorry, [ she breathes out, brows creasing. Definitely warm up here. ] Did you say something?

[america]

I was asking if you were okay. You seem - [ Beat. ] - distracted.

[ There might have been some amount of exploration involved when Steve eventually finds himself up on deck three, standing right before Peggy Carter.

It seems as though every day he's been on this ship, he's been keeping himself occupied in some manner - whether it be exploring, asking questions, seeking answers, and busying his hands in order to avoid the harder, scarier questions of when they might go home, and more importantly, how.

And now, those worries don't seem to matter all that much, not when his mouth feels dry and his heart is pounding in his chest, his whole body suddenly flush and just this side of overwarm. He sees Peggy and he's concerned over her, but there's something else too - something that can really only be defined as desire.

They haven't really done much more than catch up on the surface stuff, both of them standing on unsure footing where their hearts are concerned. To be fair, there'd been a lot on Steve's part to catch Peggy up to, but there was always the one thing he was deliberate on leaving out, the one thing that has him feeling a little light-headed.

It definitely doesn't help when he reaches out to touch her arm in a simple attempt to pull her back down to the present moment.

No, it actually does quite the opposite, his fingers suddenly feeling like they're on fire. ]

[revlon]

[ He touches her and even through the sleeve of her shirt, her skin feels electrified. It's mortifying how much that simple contact makes her want to moan and she just about bites it back, breathes out in a sharp exhale instead, tries to rein herself in. Because it clicks now, of course — she wants him. She always has, but never this hungrily, never so all-consuming that she has a hard time focusing. She doesn't answer him because she's touching the hand resting on her before she even realises it, skating her fingers up along his arm, breathing quickening, until her hand comes to a rest on his chest, just above the wild pounding of his heart.

She can feel the heat rolling off him and she swallows hard, fingers curling into the front of his shirt. Softer, ]

I don't know if I'm all right. [ She should sound more concerned or alarmed than she does. Maybe there was something in the food. Maybe she was drugged and she doesn't remember when it happened. But those theories seem so inconsequential now, there and gone in a flash, because all Peggy wants is to draw him in closer to her, she wants to know what it feels like to have him pressed up against her skin, she wants — ] Come here. [ She leans up and into him, breath ghosting over his lips; she's too close, closer than she's ever been, and she whispers, ] Something's wrong.

[america]

Is there.

[ Steve's voice is quiet to match hers.

He feels like he should be a hell of a lot more suspicious about this too, about what's happening right now, standing in the middle of this corridor looking at Peggy like he wants to ravish her then and there, and everyone else be damned.

He tries to reign his desire back in, control his heart and - well, everything else - but he feels a little delirious, almost outside of himself.

It isn't easy and he doesn't want to control himself. He wants to give in because he's wanted this for a damned long time. He's tired of waiting and watching that chance fly by him.

His fingers wrap over her arm, the other one catching her by the waist to pull her in and close the rest of that distance. His mouth finds hers then; and there's no hesitation. ]

[revlon]

[ They've only kissed once before, a long time ago. And the adrenaline had been coursing through her veins, then, there had been no time to think — she'd just wanted to do that one thing before he chased after the Red Skull. For luck, maybe. Or maybe a part of her knew there was a possibility she wouldn't see him again. But whatever the case, their first kiss hadn't felt at all like this one. This one is — God, it's so much more.

He crushes her lips against hers and it's like fire at first contact; her nerves feel alight, a jolt that runs right through her and straight between her legs, and while she'd restrained herself earlier, she can't hold it back now — Peggy surges up into the kiss with an eager little moan, hand fisting into his clothes, dragging him down to her level. She's wanted this for so long. She's waited and dreamed and maybe this is all it took, some final push, to get through all the ridiculous manners and propriety that's stood like a wall between them.

— ah, walls. There's an idea. Peggy leans back against it so that Steve has no choice but to lean in with her and she arches up into him, instinctive; the kiss is a little messy, ragged, but there's no denying the desire in it or her voice when she groans against his mouth, ]

Steve, [ God, he feels so good pressed against her. But she wants him even closer. ] We've waited far too long.

[america]

Yeah.

[ Steve breathes the response, his brain short-circuiting somewhere between 'we have' and 'too long' and all that winds up being said is a small breath of agreement. His mouth finds hers again and again, like he wants to drink her in.

And he lets his fingers move away from her waist, roaming along her side, feeling the fabric of her blouse catch against the elastic of her brazier underneath, so that he's suddenly so very aware of what's happening, of who it's happening with.

It only makes him want her more.

His hands move back to her waist to find the hem of her blouse, seeking skin. ]

[revlon]

[ It's a lot less elegant than she imagined it would be, the pair of them crashing together like this after so long. The hunger is consuming, it means teeth and lips and tongue clashing, it means hands scrambling for purchase in their urgency to get to skin. Steve's are already exploring under her blouse and the rough heat of his palms send shivers down her spine like electricity.

Peggy, for her part, is trying to unbutton his trousers without looking. She's leaning up for another kiss, breaking away from his lips some heartbeats later to press them to the hollow of his throat — there, she can feel his pulse pounding, breathe him in. At some point, she's found a way to straddle his leg because they may still be clothed but that doesn't mean she ought to wait to chase what she wants; Peggy rocks against his thigh and moans against his skin, fingers curling into his clothes. ]