Marty Mikalski (
foolproofed) wrote in
ataraxion2013-04-11 02:14 pm
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Entry tags:
video.
[Marty has retrieved his things from the locker; themos-bong, I've missed you so much. So, so much. He has it in his lap and sets it aside, plenty done with it for a good while. It's given him clarity; time to reflect on his life, on his future, on an evil ship doomed to ruin him as much as everything else has.
Okay, so he actually just came into his room, curled up, and cried for a little bit. And then smoked more. It's his depression solution.
But he's good now. He's cross-legged on his bed, looking as though he's been pondering considerably on the state of the Marty. Only whatever redness to his eyes can be contributed to his bong, if anyone questions it--he's too busy focusing on the now, instead of the then. It'll do him no good to let it drag him down; he can keep having all this doubt and survivor's guilt, but he can't let it crush him--because it wouldn't be fair to the others, when they never got the chance to come back.
No, he can figure it all out. He can think long and hard and maybe he can help these people where he couldn't help his own.]
Have you ever wondered if this place is your world's future? I know that's really morbid thinking and all, but this has to be in somebody's future--doesn't it? Maybe something crazy happened, people had nowhere to go, so they ran off to space. It's not like it's the craziest idea out there; we had--whole movies dedicated to stuff like this. Syfy originals. Books. Hell, I think I heard a radio story from ye olden days about it.
[He waves a finger at the air, looking off distantly.]
... I just can't figure out where everything went crazy aboard the ship--maybe there's some... entity. Like a spirit, or a god. Maybe it's getting its sick thrills off making us dance around like little lab rats. Or maybe it's whatever those hypothetical entities created. Maybe--maybe we're just being watched by something that brought us here just to see what we'll do. People say there's no reason we're here, or we haven't found one. But if I had to bet my piggy-bank back home on something... it'd be that. I'd guess it's also why it won't let anyone go out too far from home plate. Or why there are people who aren't people anymore.
Whatever we do, we gotta stick together. Or else... things'll just go from worse to worser. We gotta hang in there. Fuck Smiley and the monsters and the lack of wonderful snack foods--we gotta... just stick together...
[He's rambling now, whoops. Sighing at the sir, he reaches over, grabs his bong and talks as he turns the top, condensing the whole thing down into a normal thermos mug. ILU, thermy.]

I'm gonna go try to invent new things in the kitchen. Anyone wanna go? This place needs way more comfort food, and I'm pretty competent at Macguyver-ing together something worthy of consumption. Might even be able to do it without setting the whole ship on fire, too.
[HA HA it was a joke
just a joke
and then he wanders off without shutting down the feed. Distantly, and growing fainter:]
Maybe I can manufacture some space strain of toaster strudels.
[And true to his word, he'll be in the kitchens to see what awful abominations he can make wunderbar. He'll answer anything there, too, while he's at itand he remembers to retrieve his comm. Now... what does this place have in the way of sweet stuff? Surely lots of cans and cans and cans and oh look boxes. Feel free to actually find him there, casually drinking from said thermos.]
Okay, so he actually just came into his room, curled up, and cried for a little bit. And then smoked more. It's his depression solution.
But he's good now. He's cross-legged on his bed, looking as though he's been pondering considerably on the state of the Marty. Only whatever redness to his eyes can be contributed to his bong, if anyone questions it--he's too busy focusing on the now, instead of the then. It'll do him no good to let it drag him down; he can keep having all this doubt and survivor's guilt, but he can't let it crush him--because it wouldn't be fair to the others, when they never got the chance to come back.
No, he can figure it all out. He can think long and hard and maybe he can help these people where he couldn't help his own.]
Have you ever wondered if this place is your world's future? I know that's really morbid thinking and all, but this has to be in somebody's future--doesn't it? Maybe something crazy happened, people had nowhere to go, so they ran off to space. It's not like it's the craziest idea out there; we had--whole movies dedicated to stuff like this. Syfy originals. Books. Hell, I think I heard a radio story from ye olden days about it.
[He waves a finger at the air, looking off distantly.]
... I just can't figure out where everything went crazy aboard the ship--maybe there's some... entity. Like a spirit, or a god. Maybe it's getting its sick thrills off making us dance around like little lab rats. Or maybe it's whatever those hypothetical entities created. Maybe--maybe we're just being watched by something that brought us here just to see what we'll do. People say there's no reason we're here, or we haven't found one. But if I had to bet my piggy-bank back home on something... it'd be that. I'd guess it's also why it won't let anyone go out too far from home plate. Or why there are people who aren't people anymore.
Whatever we do, we gotta stick together. Or else... things'll just go from worse to worser. We gotta hang in there. Fuck Smiley and the monsters and the lack of wonderful snack foods--we gotta... just stick together...
[He's rambling now, whoops. Sighing at the sir, he reaches over, grabs his bong and talks as he turns the top, condensing the whole thing down into a normal thermos mug. ILU, thermy.]
I'm gonna go try to invent new things in the kitchen. Anyone wanna go? This place needs way more comfort food, and I'm pretty competent at Macguyver-ing together something worthy of consumption. Might even be able to do it without setting the whole ship on fire, too.
[HA HA it was a joke
just a joke
and then he wanders off without shutting down the feed. Distantly, and growing fainter:]
Maybe I can manufacture some space strain of toaster strudels.
[And true to his word, he'll be in the kitchens to see what awful abominations he can make wunderbar. He'll answer anything there, too, while he's at it
voice » this thread is diamonds
smoke a bowl and let it go my brothers.
...okay that gets a genuine laugh, marty. ]
Well, how could I say no to that?
voice » i was gonna tag you earlier but then i got high BA DA DADA DA
[c:]
And you definitely can't! Who else am I gonna smoke it up with? That guy with the same face who gets up in people's personal space? The grumpy naked country dude who waves his junk around? I may be under the influence, but I need some sanity in there somewhere!
voice » now i have to listen to that sob
[ marty what are you other than magic. ]
In that case, hi Marty-- I'm Jenna, and I appreciate the THC sharing.
Re: voice » never fails
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I wore them actively.
[I WAS A DUMBASS KID WITH A DUMBASS 90'S MOM]
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What, you don't want to get into my JNCOs? What kind of chick doesn't want to be in a pair of those bad boys?
visual »
After I told you about the crimping, you think I would be that superficial? No, I just hate to feel like I'm leading anybody on.
visual »
[A chick with good humor, pretty, smart, with a history of jellies--if she wanted a significant other and didn't have one yet, he'd be appalled at the universe. Unless all the men so far were dicks. Then it's good to be single. True dat.]
It's good to know a sci-fi horror ship's got room for rings. Or is that from back home?
visual »
[ the universe is awful ric is the only decent dude jenna has ever dated then she died
fuck why did i start this metatag now it's all sad
it's also late. i'm sorry about this, the people responsible for the writing of this meta tag have been sacked, etcetera and so on. ]
Weirdly enough, kind of half and half-- guy from back home, ring from the weird Space Santa inhabiting the lockers.
[ with a 'what can you do' shrug there. ]
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But seriously, do you think there's an old fat asshole putting shit in the lockers when we're goo'd up? I can't help but wonder. Constantly.
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[ it's super creepy she's js ]
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voice » diamonds you say
Besides, I may be joining you in your illicit profession in exchange for munchies.
voice » zee what are you
voice » special
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But the justice system is good, and the law is flawless, etcetera, etcetera...
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...the application is a little barbed, I'm not saying it isn't.
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[ leave her alone she loves miles a lot ]
And all right, fine. Fairly argumentative, too.
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[Jenna and Edgeworth sittin' in a tree--]
Whatever will Alaric think?
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