[personal profile] gmtaslash
We've seen what happens in Trojie's half of the shared brain when she opens googledocs each day. Now let's take a look at what happens over in Bridget's side of the brain.

BRIDGET: *stares blearily at screen while drinking a pint and a half of tea*

TROJIE: I can has porn, pretty please?

BRIDGET: *muttergrumblemutter*

TROJIE: Pshaw. Lies, as well you know. Write me some pretty porn.

BRIDGET: *opens gdocs* *stares blankly*

EDMUND: Afternoon. Decided to see what's going on at last?

BRIDGET: *goes to make another bucket of tea*

CASPIAN: Typical. Buggers off for caffeine and leaves us in the hands of the Queen of Angst.

EDMUND: We are kings of Narnia, we shall bravely soldier through it.

CASPIAN: *gulps*

TROJIE: *cracks knuckles*

BRIDGET *wanders back* What did I miss?

LORNE: Don't ask me, I can't tell you.

BRIDGET: *suspicious face* Where's Trojie gone?

EDMUND: *suspicious moaning noises*

BRIDGET: Glod, get a room, why don't you?

EDMUND: We tried.

CASPIAN : Mmmph!

EDMUND: You were busy.

CASPIAN: Mmmm...

EDMUND: We moved on.

BRIDGET: But I thought you'd had enough of Angst.

EDMUND: Yes, but then Merlin and that bloody upstart thought they'd muscle in. We've territory to defend here, you know.

TROJIE: *writes at high speed*

BRIDGET: Uh, okay. So I can go drink more tea?

LORNE: Not until I've had a botanist in places the sun was never meant to shine.

BRIDGET: But I can't write you!

LORNE: You could try.

BRIDGET: I'll never do you justice.

LORNE: You've spent the last three days thinking of me naked. How could this go wrong?

PARRISH: *pops up unexpectedly* Actually, there are a lot of things that could go wrong. Sex pollen, for a start.

BRIDGET: I'm not writing clichés, I'm not! I won't do it and you can't make me!

LORNE: But you know you want to see it done properly. And I haven't gotten laid in ages.

BRIDGET: *yelps* Stop using Americanisms in my head!

KIRK: Damn, she's uptight, this one.

SPOCK: I concur. Perhaps we should have remained in our previous abode.

EVERYONE: *turns to look at Trojie*

TROJIE: *mutters under her breath and continues the stream of porn*

EDMUND: Shut up, shut up! Don't distract her now!

CASPIAN: Nnnngh!

BRIDGET: I need more caffeine. *wanders downstairs*

KIRK: It won't work, you know. We're watching you from the walls.

BRIDGET: Why did I ever spend precious beer money on a poster of you?

KIRK: Because you want my babies. Now, are you gonna write my clothes off, or what?

BRIDGET: Yes. I mean no! No.

SPOCK: Might I inquire as to why not?

BRIDGET: Because you have no Plot. You're just naked and sweaty and half choked.

SPOCK: *raises eyebrow*

KIRK: And this is a bad thing why, exactly?

BRIDGET: Because you can't make me write weirdly hot asphyxiation kink fic.

KIRK: I bet I could.

BRIDGET: Couldn't.

KIRK: Could.

TROJIE: *looking up from tangle of Narnian limbs* He probably could, you know. He's got you writing cock, after all.

BRIDGET: *twitch*

LORNE: I could have done that. I'm twenty first century American. If you'd just get your ass in gear and start writing me, we'll have more cock than you can shake a stick at.

KIRK: She doesn't need you for that. I already corrupted her brain.

SPOCK: Evidently. However, this bickering does not solve the issue at hand.

PARRISH: I'm a little confused. What is the issue?

HARKNESS: *wanders in* We're all wearing clothes and there's not enough cock on paper.

KIRK: Isn't paper a little archaic?

HARKNESS: Hey, get yourself an office boy like mine, then we can talk about stationery kinks.

BRIDGET: How the hell did you get in here?

HARKNESS: Uh, Tardis?

BRIDGET: Tell me Ten's not here. Please.

TROJIE: *wanders over* Why are you asking him to lie?

BRIDGET: Because it's crowded enough in here already.

HARKNESS: It'd be less crowded if there were less clothes.

KIRK: You know, I like the way you think.

BRIDGET: None of you should be thinking in here! This is my brain, not yours! *runs away for more tea*

TROJIE: *shaking head sadly* Honestly, I try my best, but she just won't listen.

LORNE: *earnestly* We try too, all the time, but it's like putting on a show for a rock. She just won't budge.

EDMUND: Er, excuse me? Not quite finished here.


TROJIE: Oh, bugger.

MERLIN: Arthur! I found her!

TROJIE: *runs away*

MERLIN: *runs after her*

BRIDGET: *reappears with gallon of tea* Who was that?

KIRK: No one important. Now, where were we?

LORNE: She was just about to write me ravishing Parrish up against a tree.

EDMUND: Trees? That's boring. She's been there, done that. You'll never get her attention with trees.

KIRK: How about turbolifts?

SPOCK: I must regretfully remind you, captain, that she has had us engage in copulation in turbolifts more than once.

KIRK: Damn.

BRIDGET: And in your chair too, so don't go getting ideas. Bugger off, the pair of you, and come back when you've found a Plot.

KIRK: We could boldly go on a mission to the planet of Plots and bring one back for you?

BRIDGET: Excellent plan.

KIRK: And we could take these guys with us?

LORNE: I'm up for that. The PWP angle really isn't working, and if I don't get some soon...

PARRISH: Major, I'm sure Carson already explained to you about blue balls and exploding being a myth.

BECKETT: Did someone say my name?

MCKAY: *pops into existence* Mm, yeah, god yes, Sheppard, right - What the hell am I doing here?

BECKETT: Ah, Rodney. We're back in Bridget's brain, it seems.

MCKAY: Great, I finally get a break from having to molest Sheppard. So, who's up first?

BRIDGET: *hides*

HARKNESS: I'm good with just watching for now. Not sure where Ianto's got to.

CASPIAN: I'm about ready for another round, if anyone's up for it.

SPOCK: I have compiled a further set of variables I must test with the captain.

HARKNESS: *looks interested* Which one?

KIRK: This one! Hands off, buddy, the Vulcan's mine.

UHURA: *wanders in* Excuse me?

KIRK: Uh, I mean, he's, er... his own. Yeah. He's his, right Spock?

SPOCK: I am indeed my own character, captain. However, when in the confines of this brain I find myself consumed with an overwhelming urge to remove your clothing and perform certain licentious acts upon your anatomy.

LORNE: *settles back with popcorn* Oh, this should be good.

TROJIE: *runs back in, wheezing* Okay, I think I lost them. Has she written any porn yet?

PARRISH: I think she's hiding.

MCKAY: Coward! I left the best head in two galaxies for this?


MCKAY: I mean, I've got the best head in two galaxies and I'm reduced to this?

CAPTAIN JOHN: *waltzes through a gap in the brain-rift* I have the perfect solution.

HARKNESS: Oh no. Not a chance.

BRIDGET: With you on that. You lot are NOT having a crossover orgy in my brain. Not no way, not no how.

ARTHUR: You're no fun. Gawain told me you'd be fun. I think he lied.

BRIDGET: You shouldn't even be here! Get out!

ARTHUR and MERLIN: *exit, muttering*

BRIDGET: And nor should you, Uhura. Sorry, but no vaginas in this brain.

UHURA: Trojie's got one.

BRIDGET: Yeah, but she doesn't try to do anything with it in front of me. She can stay.

TROJIE: Does this mean you're going to write me some mansex now?

KIRK: I think you should listen to her, she has your best interests at heart.

BRIDGET: *tries and fails to drown self in tea*

TROJIE: *dons cheerleading outfit* Come on! You can do this.

BRIDGET: But there's too many of them. It's like the Pronoun Problem times infinity.

SPOCK: Perhaps if you were to direct us, you could simply then write down the actions we perform, and in this way create fiction with a satisfactory degree of mansex.

BRIDGET: Can't. Too many cocks. Someone's got to go.

KIRK: She said it again! Man, I OWN this brain.

BRIDGET: *whimper*

KIRK: Come on. *sits in captain's chair* You know you can't resist this.

BRIDGET: I'm not having sex with you in my brain. Especially not with an audience.

KIRK: ...What? Ew, no! I mean THIS. *grabs Spock, begins ravishing*

TROJIE: *appreciative noises*

EVERYONE ELSE: *settles in to enjoy the show*

EDMUND: I hope you're writing this down. Otherwise this is all just time wasted.

CASPIAN: Mansex time is never wasted time. Although it really should be us.

EDMUND: I see a convenient ship over there...

CASPIAN: *drags Edmund off and begins undressing him*

TROJIE: *even more appreciative noises*

BRIDGET: *hides*

TROJIE: Don't you dare, woman. It's all there in front of you. Just get the words down.

LORNE: Please?

BRIDGET: *sighs* There's no getting out of this, is there?

EVERYONE: None whatsoever.

BRIDGET: *opens seven new google documents*

TROJIE: That's it, excellent start, keep it up!

BRIDGET: *runs away and drowns herself in tea*

MCKAY: Pathetic. Come on, Carson. We've got work to do.

BECKETT and MCKAY: *exit, waving*

KIRK: Does this mean we have to stop?

TROJIE: Not on your nelly. You two are the main attraction. If she won't write you two, she won't write anything.

PARRISH: So we still don't get laid?

LORNE: Looks that way.

PARRISH: I must say, I'm not impressed by the service here.

LORNE: Me neither. It's, what, two years since we took up residence?

PARRISH: *mournfully* And still not a single paragraph of actual written porn.

LORNE: Yeah, but the training exercises have been pretty fun.

KIRK: You guys have to have training exercises?

SPOCK: *smug face*

PARRISH: *defensively* You two have been round for forty years. I was onscreen for two minutes. It takes time hone my character.

BRIDGET: Did someone say honing character? I like the sound of that.

KIRK: HORNY character. We said horny character. As in, you've got a lot of them on your hands.

BRIDGET: *looks around* Less than I did. Where did everyone go?

SPOCK: Their whereabouts is immaterial, so long as they are not here distracting you from the matter at hand.

KIRK: *waves hand at Spock's groin* Like this hand.

LORNE: *shoves hand down Parrish's trousers* Or this hand.

EDMUND: Or this - actually, no, this hand's busy.

EVERYONE: *turns to look*

TROJIE: *dribbles*

EDMUND: Carry on, everyone. Don't mind us.

BRIDGET: *takes deep healing breaths* Okay.

KIRK: Okay you'll write porn?

LORNE: Lots of porn?

TROJIE: Pretty angsty porn?

BRIDGET: ...Maybe.

SPOCK: I feel a 'but' is imminent.

KIRK: *sotto voce* So do I.

LORNE: *elbows him* Shhh! Don't put her off now she's getting psyched up!

BRIDGET: I will write porn on ONE condition.

TROJIE: Please don't tell me the condition includes Plot. We'll be here till doomsday.

BRIDGET: Best get comfy then. *waves airily* Feel free to make yourselves at ease, gentlemen.

EVERYONE: *does so*

TROJIE: But you're not writing.


TROJIE: You're surrounded by half naked pretty men. Why aren't you writing?

BRIDGET: Why aren't you?

TROJIE: Touché.

BRIDGET: This is a problem.

TROJIE: *indicates Kirk and Spock* When you said at ease, is this what you meant?

BRIDGET: *stares* Not ... exactly.

TROJIE: Well, what did you mean?

BRIDGET: *continues staring*

KIRK: *moans*

SPOCK: *fellates*

LORNE, PARRISH and HARKNESS: *eat popcorn and watch in merciful silence*

TROJIE: Hello?

SPOCK: *contorts*

KIRK: *pants*

TROJIE: Bridget? Are you still here?

BRIDGET: ... Hmmm?

KIRK: *whispers* I think it's working!

SPOCK: If we continue in this vein I predict you will climax in under four minutes, captain. I would therefore have to concur.

KIRK: I love it when you talk clinically and logically to me, baby.

TROJIE: *fans self*

BRIDGET: *types a sentence and a half*

KIRK: Oh God, yes!

TROJIE: Did he just...?

SPOCK: He is merely triumphant that we have finally managed to inspire Bridget to put in a hard day's work.

LORNE: *chokes on popcorn* A sentence and a half is a whole day's work?

KIRK: With a brain that can't say cock? What do you think? Oh yeah, right there.

BRIDGET: Tag. I need more tea.

BRIDGET'S BLADDER: *groans and protests under the weight of fifteen pints of liquid*

TROJIE: *mesmerised* Sure thing. *writes*

BRIDGET: *runs away*
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