ataraxion | video.

[When the camera turns on, Marty's adjusting it before plopping down in a seat clumsily (grumbling 'fuckin' jelly legs' or something to that effect); he's got dust and oil on him, a little toil and trouble with the clean-up assistance he's been performing on the Tranquility (after pilfering a gun from the Scylla, of course). He's bone-tired and there's a bit of sweat on his brow, but in that weariness he finds temporary redirection from the shitty stuff. He's noticed, of course, people fighting plenty. People looking very tense and unhappy. The halls are even quieter, somehow. And he doesn't fuckin' like it, not one bit. Now, he's not particularly attached to this ship--duh, he's only been here a month and it's a horrible place on top of it--but like hell does he enjoy misery as company. That saying can just go shove it.

I mean, he's barely even smoking it up, lately. In fact, he's stone cold normal right now and empty-handed. They're just clasped in front of him as he leans into his knees.]

You know what I need? A break. A cigarette break, but with more words 'n shit. We've been working our asses off. Keep up the fantastic work, and all that jazz, but how about something else for a second? Juuust a second. I know we've all been stressed out, what with the pirates and the freaky-ass murdering specter captains and the--uh--ship clamped on us like a tumor. So just... Hey, I haven't--really indulged in the fact that we're all from every corner of time and space and universes and all that cool sci-fi stuff.

[He licks his lips as he considers what to say, hands motioning in front of him like he's trying to catch his own thoughts.]

You guys, we have all kinds of worlds on board! Tell me some cool shit about your world. Or about you. Whatever. Can I get some cool facts? Some jokes? Stories? Hell, it doesn't even have to be anything outside of good ol' planet Earth. Or even directed at me. No serious or traumatic stuff needed, just... stuff. Hell, if you're a connoisseur of movies or you have a thing for panda facts or you wanna tell a story about your crazy family reunions.

[He suddenly seems a little more excited, a little less tired, shifting in his seat.]

This entry is now Marty's Share Fair. I'm stuck on a funky space ship and all, so I might as well know more than the bleak stuff.

....

Just don't pull a TMI, okay? I'm sure everyone sees enough floppy nethers after each jump. We don't need to know anything about them other that the promise that you'll find a towel posthaste. Thank you in advance.

(ooc: threadjacking heavily encouraged! it'd be fun to have people find common interests or things to relate to, and I just wanted a kinda free-for-all for the S.S. Solemn Worrywarts)

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[That moment when most of your funny stories involve... erasing people's brains and putting new personalities in their heads...]

Uh... I'm still willing to sit through Zardoz if it means ruining the lives of most of the pop culture-deprived people here. Or The Room. Jake hasn't even seen The Room and that's just begging for it.

[ Special cookies, Marty. Special chocolate chip cookies would sort Miles right out. Just slip a box of them into his locker... ]

I'm guessing you don't bake?

[ Casey does. ]

...

[impressive

he rubs his chin with some awe in his expression, squinting]

I'm definitely not high right now, so I'm assuming--that's, uh. Super cool sci-fi shit?

Definitely not aluminum foil spacesuit and special effects sort of sci-fi, and that's the only kind I know. Think more along comic book lines and we're golden. Though a flying Senator--not exactly gonna beat Batman off the shelves.

you a stoner
surely not

[ jk you look like the biggest stoner he has ever seen ]

and wait is a batdragon a type of bat like is that a regular non terrifying species or is this an actual dragon
because if so where are you from and did you steal someones clothes
if youve got dragons shouldnt you look a bit more medieval

... And here I thought you and that fish had a special bond.

Weeeell I was just using the figure of speech, but--Devils??

You can't just bring up devils so casually, man! That shit is extreme in my world. What kind of devils are we talking here? The kind with horns, forked tails, something crazy like that??

Ah, Chuck. Now there's a bearded badass.

...

Man. What if the Texas Ranger showed up here? You know--that's a thing that can happen, and all. Just imagine, being stuck in evil space with that kinda facial hair standing by your side.

what, plating detective with all the people on board

different worlds, different rules, all that cool stuff to poke around about?

*playing

Great! I'll be here.

[While super-cleaning.

These boxes and messes and broken glasses ain't gonna clean themselves. He even rolls his gritty sleeves up--poor, poor sleeves, all stained to hell thanks to Jack's blood getting all over them. No amount of scrubbing has fixed them entirely. Not that they weren't already fucked up to begin with, but still.

cleaning time

Man, he feels like he should be in one of those ships from the Matrix, this place looks so shitty.]

... You can take memories out of one thing and put it in another?

[i'm not even high and what is this]

Wooow, the higher-ups sound like a bunch of royal dicks. Does that happen often, or what?

...

Okay, you're gonna smite me for this--but I still haven't seen Zardoz.

[I FEEL SO BAD NOW

DON'T TAKE MY POP CULTURE MEMBERSHIP CARD]

Wizards.

What--like. Dungeons and Dragons wizards? Wands, long beards, robes? The whole deal?

I bake plenty--it's just finding all the shit I need to bake that makes things hell on earth. Mini-marts are some of the few material things I'm missing, right about now. Mini-marts and Hostess and the damn over-expensive tubs of jerky.

But I digress.

Cookies.

I need to get some shit together and make some.

[some very potent ones at that, not that marty is sharing too much lately

we're in survival mode with our weed shh]

you got me, i'm not a pothead

i'm the cleanest, i'll pass all your space drug tests

it was like--okay, it had some scaly bits and some fur, but it also had a giant mouth with bigass teeth

i swear to christ, its mouth opened in like four different directions when it screeched

also i dont know how anything i saw existed in my time tbh

and yeah it was 100% horrifying if you haven't figured out by now

like 'holy shit' horrible, blood everywhere

... So you're doing all that with your brain?

Is it too much to ask how? Because flying--now that'd be a kickass way to get around.

You have no idea how right you are on that. Another time, I was sent in on infiltration, and when I didn't crack the lock as fast as they thought I should, they blew a hole in the side of the ship I was on. I ended up adrift in space and I had to get to the shuttle bay on my own while trying to conserve my jet pack fuel.

[ Nathan touches down; that's quite enough of that. ]

Genetics, actually, though I haven't much time for the mutant label.

[ Haven't you learned anything yet, Marty? Try the gardens. ]

That's the spirit.

And there's always the ration packs. Getting through some of that is like chewing beef jerky.

[Edgeworth shows up a while later, a chessboard tucked under his arm. He looks supremely awkward - more so, even, than usual - dressed to impress in his best suit and cravat tied all the way to his chin.

He's loath to interrupt someone who's being productive and responsible, and so when he sees Marty working hard he just sort of stands there, uncertain, waiting.]

Yes. It's not that hard, really. I...probably shouldn't say much more about it, though. But it doesn't work on people. Our neurotopography is too complicated.

[SCIENCE!!!]

[In person, Marty probably looks a lot scrawnier. Way less impressive than soldiers around here like Reaper or York or that cool sergeant guy. But he likes to try anyway, if he can't do any cool army shit. So he's dragging boxes up from the floor, moving things here and there the effort damn near shaking his arms and legs by the time he finally gets everything back in the pantries and drawers. Crouches low, starts placing things one-by-one into the doors beneath the counters. Heaves a sigh. Only stops when something appears to prick him sharply in the back--some imaginary force that makes him hiss a 'fuck!' under his breath and reach lamely to touch the tender spot.

Rises up, leaned one hand on the counter, sighing. Trapped in his own little world, stopping to regain some pep to keep going; he's not so good at keeping track of time, and since Edgeworth is gonna meet him, he didn't bother tracking it now.]

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text; screw editing it was marty's fault

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1/2 i can type all i want leave me alone