ａｘｍｏｄｓ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ataraxites) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2015-01-08 12:01 am
ataraxites) wrote in ataraxionlogs2015-01-08 12:01 am
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- bellamy blake,
- benny lafitte,
- bethmora fortescue,
- bucky barnes,
- captain hook (killian jones),
- caroline forbes,
- charles xavier,
- cole,
- commander shepard,
- cora hale,
- cullen rutherford,
- derek hale,
- dick "robin" grayson,
- ellen ripley,
- eponine thenardier,
- firo prochainezo,
- harry potter,
- heather mason,
- ivan,
- jackson "jax" teller,
- jennifer keller,
- johanna mason,
- john blake | au,
- john mitchell,
- kieren walker,
- l "ryuuzaki" lawliet,
- leo fitz,
- levi,
- liara t'soni,
- marian hawke,
- marty mikalski,
- minho,
- mordin solus,
- netherlands,
- octavia blake,
- padme amidala,
- raven reyes,
- richard rider,
- rick grimes,
- river tam | au,
- sally malik,
- sam alexander,
- simon tam,
- sirius black,
- takeshi,
- taylor "tyke" kee,
- thomas
thirty-ninth 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: A feeling of deep dread greets you as you stumble out of the gravcouch, strong enough to hold you still for a long moment, searching your surroundings for the source of your wariness. Nothing becomes apparent, only your fellow passengers waking up. Eventually you gather the resolve to pick yourself up and start moving, the feeling fading slowly as you progress through routine.
New arrivals will find messages spraypainted across their lockers telling them not to follow their tattoo numbers, and instead to find a room on Floors 001-010.
----------------
ＹＯＵ͘ ̨ＷＡＫＥ̢ ̧ＵＰ ́ＩＮ ＤＡ̛ＲＫＮ̢Ｅ̕ＳＳ̶
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.
ＹＯ́Ｕ̴ ̧Ａ̨ＲＥ ＮＯＴ҉ ̷ＡＬＯ̨ＮＥ҉
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.
ＴＨ̀ＩＳ͜ ̶Ｉ͠Ｓ͡ ͘Ｙ̵Ｏ͝ＵＲ ̕Ｗ͝Ｅ̛Ｌ̨Ｃ͡Ｏ͝Ｍ͏Ｅ Ｐ̛ＡＲ̴ＴＹ͜
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: A feeling of deep dread greets you as you stumble out of the gravcouch, strong enough to hold you still for a long moment, searching your surroundings for the source of your wariness. Nothing becomes apparent, only your fellow passengers waking up. Eventually you gather the resolve to pick yourself up and start moving, the feeling fading slowly as you progress through routine.
New arrivals will find messages spraypainted across their lockers telling them not to follow their tattoo numbers, and instead to find a room on Floors 001-010.
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
I wonder, [ she says, a hand lifting (a little clumsily) to her mouth for a second. ] I wonder how many birthdays I can have before they're like 'no, stop, that's too many birthdays'? Karma seriously owes me at least three extra for the ones that happened when I was dead.
no subject
Just make sure you're vague 'bout whose birthday it is unless people ask. Just like— like, make everything real generic and have one every quarter or so. You'll be caught up in no time.
[ And then an off-hand gesture. ]
Now, karma aside, can we back up a bit? What d'you mean, when you were dead? That— that somethin' you mind sharin' or should I ask when you're a bit more sober?
no subject
no subject
He leans heavily on his hand, chin propped lazily. ]
Heard people got second chances, but that's not real common when I come from.
Just how's a person come back from bein' a ghost, anyway? Are you still a ghost?
[ And how would he know if she was, having never legitimately seen one himself? ]
no subject
[ she leans back in her seat a little to eye him, almost a little skeptically. ]
Do you seriously want to know? Most people totally don't, y'know, they just think they do and then suddenly it's all stupid and awkward.
no subject
Haven't figured out I've got stupid and awkward down yet, have you?
[ John un-props himself a second to lean toward her a little, his voice lowered slightly in challenge. ]
Hit me with your best shot. I very seriously wanna know.
no subject
Black magic, [ she says, no more hesitation. ] Involving my gross super-dead corpse, and the heart of some dude my roommate killed.
[ which is bad enough on its own, really. but she's drunk, and she doesn't quite process when to quit. ]
But there were all kinds of strings attached. See - like, with magic like that, you either have to feed it or you rot, actual rot. And it's hungry for flesh. I mean, animals work, eating - like, mice and cats and shit, that'll work for a while. But not forever.
[ all without breaking eye contact. then her brows flick up for a second as she tilts her head, like 'chew on that one'.
and that's not even the punchline. ]
And that? That was just the first time.
1/2
no subject
So, then what? What 'bout the other times? —time? —times...
[ Okay, yeah. Hook, line, and sinker, she's got him on the line. ]
no subject
[ she lifts her glass now to eye how much is left, then downs the rest in one go. there wasn't much, anyway. ]
no subject
The usual. [ Such a dubious look. ] So that sorta thing's common? How many times've you time traveled?
no subject
no subject
Really? That's— somethin' else. Those kinda accidents happen all the time or do you got a bunch of super villains over there makin' trouble?
no subject
I-... It's kind of a long story. Like, this is actually the extremely short version so far, like 5% of it or maybe 6% or something, just a super tiny number. And there's like - fricking magic and vampires and werewolves and the Reaper, kind of, and it's just. A mess.
no subject
Sounds like it. It's, uh— [ He scratches at his temple. ] —diff'rent. Than what I'm used to. Little hard to imagine, that's all.
So, you miss that or is here better?
no subject
And I mean, I guess I kind of miss it? Some of it. I miss my roommates, like - god, I wish they were here. They're pretty much my best friends in the whole world, but then if you go back you don't even remember it here and I don't want to forget. Does that make sense?
no subject
Kinda hard imaginin' leavin' people behind. Hell, harder imaginin' you wouldn't miss 'em, right?
[ Since being pulled from Gotham, Blake hasn't once returned home to not experience that loss but Dean had gone through it more than a few times and it hadn't exactly inspired a lot of enthusiasm in either of them to know for a fact they'd eventually forget each other (and everyone they'd met in the journey since). ]
You get that feelin' yet where you feel bad for wishin' people were here? That's the worst.