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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.
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[but this is the moment his voice hums out from her communicator, and she makes a little shh face at Takeshi before replying - by our lockers. Come quick, okay?]
- he's gonna feel so much better when he sees you.
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No, he rounds the corner with his chicken caravan clucking along behind him, sees them, and stops so suddenly that the chickens all bang into the back of his knees - he doesn't even notice. Eyes wide and looking between the two, heart in his throat and somewhere between ready to flee and ready to launch himself toward them, right on the edge. He's here, his kid is here, and what if he doesn't remember and they have to start all over again and can he do that a second time oh fuck but his son is here and -
!!!!!!!]
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Well, if he's just gonna stand there like a dummy, he'll just have to start a conversation.]
Hey... Dad!
Heder said you were sick! Are you okay now??
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It's him. And he knows us.
[Aaaaaand crying again.]
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Nothing comes out when he tries to speak so when he reaches them he just. Tugs them in, chest heaving, and buries his face in Takeshi's hair before pulling back. But only enough to look between the two of them, like he still can't quite believe it. He's a crying, half-naked shuddering wreck and he totally doesn't give a shit.]
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Don't cry — don't cry, it's okay! I didn't mean to leave, but it's alright. It's okay!
Don't make yourself sick! You're gonna throw up!
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[He might throw up. God knows she feels like she might throw up, because somehow Netherlands seeing Takeshi and responding makes it all real and that's wonderful, it's dazzling, it's better than she ever could have hoped for
but it's also slightly terrifying. With Netherlands clinging to Takeshi the way he is she unloops one arm to snake it around him, group hug style, rubs at his back. Don't panic, he needs us not to panic. The rest they can figure out as they go.]
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I'll - try.
[Not to cry or not to throw up it is a mystery. Meanwhile Lodewijk has joined Hoi Hoi and is attentively observing, for once.]
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I didn't mean to make you and Heder cry. M'sorry...
[PLEASE JUST DON'T CRY ANYMORE, HE'LL BE GOOD AND STAY. ;A;]
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[She jostles the kid slightly, a little jiggle that's meant to be reassuring and probably isn't because she is, it would seem, stereotypically less able to control her tears than the men in her life. But she looks between them - her kid, her precious son, and the love of her stinkin' life, and one thing's clear.
They should be doing this somewhere else.]
We should move. To someone's room.
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Whose.
[The question is muttered first, and only then does Netherlands pull back enough to look between the two. Pack up and move to someone's room - now that there's a task in the queue, it's much easier to reign all those sloppy emotions in.]
Have to put those up first.
[Thumb back to chickens.]
1/2
[He knows now he's been gone for a while... but...]
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[EXCUSE ME MOM AND DAD, THERE ARE CHICKENS TO BE WITNESSED.]
Whoa, Mr. Ned, where'd all these come from?!
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Uh. [Whatever, chickens.] Eggs.
[He's not even trying to be funny. That's where they came from :|]
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Do they peck people?!
[... Well, what. He hasn't actually felt like he's left, so the moment is totally ruined (or maybe saved?) by his eagerness to help with something like chicken-herding. Besides, other than Hoi Hoi over there (chewing on his paw), he isn't used to a lot of other animals being around.]
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Maybe we can help get them home, and you can get to know 'em better that way.
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Their, uh. Their feet are dangerous. [This feels. Really surreal. Takeshi asking questions upon questions like nothing's happened and meanwhile he feels - almost out of body, or whatever people call it.] Be faster if I put them up, today.
[Said with a significant look over to Heather. The idea sounds goddamned adorable, and good, but he needs to smoke about three cigarettes and get the freakout that's looming on the horizon out of the way, somewhere where he won't be upsetting Takeshi again. He's hoping she gets it, will be able to navigate Takeshi's questions about why not today.]
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You know I'm strong! M'not scared of their feet...
[Parents, man. Always too worried. Still, the blanketed 'no' Netherlands gives seems to be caught pretty (surprisingly) easily by the boy, and he stretches, trying to get the kinks out from where he'd been floating in goop for however long.]
I wanna draw chickens, then! We can draw them, right??
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Hell yeah we can draw chickens. We'll go to your room, get all set up, and Netherlands can come over when he's ready.
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[Quiet agreement - he's still gonna worry about it, though. The kid's tiny, what if a chicken got pissed and took his eye out. Or something. /fret
Drawing chickens is a much better idea. Hell yeah they can draw chickens. The corner of his mouth quirks up for a moment and he sighs in relief, runs a hand through his hair before letting it fall with a nod - part determination and part silent thanks to Heather.]
Won't take long.
[Muttered as he leans in and brushes his lips on Heather's cheek, follows it up by crouching down and reaching out for Takeshi.]
no subject
Can you draw chickens good?
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Nope. I don't think I ever drew a chicken before. I'm probably gonna need a lot of help.
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No. Heather's shit at drawing.]
Help when I get back.
[LATER GUYS if he doesn't leave now he's not going to. It's a little rushed, him taking off and shucking on the jumpsuit and going, but whatever. Have fun without him for a few.]
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I can help, but I bet you're gonna be really good at chickens!
We just gotta practice, practice, practice!
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