lчdíα ( вєttєr thαn αnч σthєr αlphα ) mαrtín (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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ataraxionlogs2013-04-07 10:58 pm
mathematically) wrote in ataraxionlogs2013-04-07 10:58 pm
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- alaric saltzman,
- alex shepherd,
- alex summers | au,
- am,
- annabeth chase,
- arya stark,
- beleth "bells",
- bennett halverson,
- buffy summers,
- caroline forbes,
- chell,
- cillian quinn,
- commander sarka shepard,
- daenerys targaryen,
- david wong,
- dean winchester,
- delta,
- derek hale,
- effie trinket,
- epsilon,
- fili,
- garrett,
- hal yorke,
- heine rammsteiner,
- hollow,
- irene adler (2009),
- james potter,
- jayne cobb,
- jeff "joker" moreau,
- jo harvelle,
- john "reaper" grimm,
- john mitchell,
- josh levison,
- kili,
- laughing beauty,
- leonard church (alpha),
- lestat de lioncourt,
- lily evans,
- lydia martin,
- marty mikalski,
- maya,
- melissa mccall,
- montgomery "scotty" scott (xi),
- mordecai,
- mr. gold (rumplestiltskin),
- natasha romanoff,
- nathan young,
- netherlands,
- nick cutler,
- nyota uhura (xi),
- primrose everdeen,
- raven darkholme,
- river tam,
- robb stark,
- rose lalonde,
- ryan newman,
- scott mccall,
- simon tam,
- stefan salvatore,
- stiles stilinski,
- takeshi,
- taylor "tyke" kee,
- the warden (daylen amell),
- thranduil,
- tom mcnair,
- tony stark,
- wheatley,
- william j. johns
seventeenth jump;
CHARACTERS: any and all
LOCATION: Gravity Couches and beyond
WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, or even some violence, and more than likely some implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: Another month, another jump, another round of new faces.
NOTES: Keeping up with the tradition and copy pasted like always from the last one
You wake up in darkness.
There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Upon registering your level of consciousness, the gravity couch drains the fluid surrounding you and retracts the breathing apparatus; the doors in front of you open, and you're deposited on the floor of a stark, sterile medical bay.
You are not alone.
There are others who have come before you, others who are awakening beside you. Some may be familiar to you, perhaps even friends. Others have much less amiable plans. Some are merely alien and inexplicable, but there are always those who might mean you harm.
After you catch your breath and your vision returns, you notice a number on the inside of your forearm. Maybe it's a familiar number. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's just a number. But the number—completely unique to you—is a tattoo, and it does not come off.
If you enter the room adjacent to the medbay, you will find a small locker with your number on it, surrounded by rows upon rows of identical lockers. Inside, you will find a few of your personal items, a communications device, and a ship's uniform in your exact size. The comms device is fully powered and connects directly to the ship's network; it's your only means of communication beyond physical conversation. Upon turning the device on, a neutral, automated voice will say, "Please take the blue lift to the passenger quarters." Any other attempts at communicating with the rest of the network are met only with static.
This is your welcome party.
LOCATION: Gravity Couches and beyond
WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, or even some violence, and more than likely some implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: Another month, another jump, another round of new faces.
NOTES: Keeping up with the tradition and copy pasted like always from the last one
There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Upon registering your level of consciousness, the gravity couch drains the fluid surrounding you and retracts the breathing apparatus; the doors in front of you open, and you're deposited on the floor of a stark, sterile medical bay.
There are others who have come before you, others who are awakening beside you. Some may be familiar to you, perhaps even friends. Others have much less amiable plans. Some are merely alien and inexplicable, but there are always those who might mean you harm.
After you catch your breath and your vision returns, you notice a number on the inside of your forearm. Maybe it's a familiar number. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's just a number. But the number—completely unique to you—is a tattoo, and it does not come off.
If you enter the room adjacent to the medbay, you will find a small locker with your number on it, surrounded by rows upon rows of identical lockers. Inside, you will find a few of your personal items, a communications device, and a ship's uniform in your exact size. The comms device is fully powered and connects directly to the ship's network; it's your only means of communication beyond physical conversation. Upon turning the device on, a neutral, automated voice will say, "Please take the blue lift to the passenger quarters." Any other attempts at communicating with the rest of the network are met only with static.
no subject
YEAH SEE? Wheatley looks very pleased with himself for having picked up on this.]
See? You'll be fine, the both of you. You're different enough. I didn't think he was you.
no subject
I guess that's... something, anyway. [He slouches in his chair.] I probably should have guessed this wouldn't be as cool as expected. I imprinted someone with my personality once and it wasn't as cool as expected. ...Okay, it was, but it got old really, really fast.
no subject
robo racism is showin
Not that Wheatley detects it, of course. He continues to look rather casual about the whole thing--as long as the facetwin business isn't happening to him, he's got no reason to be concerned.]
You did mention that. [He gives an exaggerated shudder.]
Don't know how you did that, honestly. Exact duplicates. Euch.
no subject
It helped that I was on the other side of the country and we were only ever talking over the phone. Once we were in the same room, it got weird. [A beat.] The point is...
[DID HE EVEN HAVE A POINT TO ANY OF THIS?
...He sure didn't.] I... actually don't know what the point is. Huh.
no subject
are you
Wheatley raises his hand, and after a bit of hesitation and a few false starts, he gives Topher exactly one (1) clap on the shoulder, removing his hand as quickly as he put it there and proceeding to wipe it on his pants.]
There is no point. But that's--that's okay. It'll all get sorted out, you'll see.
no subject
Yeah. No different from any other weird thing around here. [He acknowledges Nill's existence again. Because he can.] Sorry about your cookies, BTW. On behalf of my drug-addled twin.
no subject
Well, uh, I didn't bake them, so it's not really--not really any skin off my back.
[Ate some, yes. Baked them? No.]