25 March 2013 @ 10:55 pm
[ HEY NETWORK long time no chat. have a mike ross in his room wearing jeans and t-shirt, barefoot and looking like he hasn't eaten properly in a month (which he hasn't) nor shaved or combed his hair in a month (which he also hasn't). his back is to the door of his room as he props up the communicator on his dresser and takes a step back, giving the communicator enough of a vantage point to show him from head to toe. when he deems the communicator secure enough, he smiles. ]

Hey! [ nervous energy kicking in: now ] Uh, hi. Small request.

[ and then he reaches off camera to hold up a suit ]

Anyone willing to trade a bag of funyuns for this thing? Or doritos. Or... cheetos, I guess? Basically anything in the chip family, really. I'm not picky.

[ he frowns for a moment before tossing the suit to the side again and moving to approach the commmunicator. and suddenly!!! the door opens behind him showing one (x1) donna paulsen in the doorway. donna looks as well put-together as always, but with her hands on her hips, she's definitely a formidable force. which means mike, of course, jumps in surprise. ]

Holy fucking--


Mike Ross, are you addressing the network while looking like a space hobo?

There is no such thing as a space hobo, okay.

And yet here you are.

[ so mike sighs! ] Okay, fine. Fine! [ and then, reaches for the communicator, addressing it. ] And I guess I could also use a haircut too or whatever.

[ a shrug and boom, end feed. ]

(( mike is in blue, donna in orange ))
 
 
 
[ for once, no one has to deal with faith and jaye's ridiculous mess of a room. instead the feed opens on faith's old room, which is dusty at worst. ]

Okay, so. Here's the thing-- no disrespect to fight club and all, I'm a fan. Sparring's cool for the little stuff, but it doesn't hit that real itch.

[ which would be killing, for all of you who don't speak crazy slayer. ]

So, here's what we got. Nerd wing overrun with those rat things, and looks like they're planning to just chill there for now. I'm thinking... fish with bitchin' teeth, barrel. Math's not all that hard.

Tyke already covered the general deal-- you wanna head out on your own good luck with that and mazel tov I guess, try not to bleed all over. Gets shit slippery, makes it a bitch for the rest of us. [ she shrugs one shoulder, rueful. it's true okay, geez. ] What I'm looking for is a hunting party. Fast and lean-- I got enough gear for me and maybe like three other people. Anybody who can bring their own shit to the table's welcome, but I get final call.

You wanna showboat and play hero, I got no use for you. And if you feel like you gotta prove your dick's the biggest skip the fight and just go ahead and whip it out right now, see what happens. Lonely in space, might get a couple takers for that. [ she grins, all teeth. ] All right, what else. You can't keep up, I don't need you. You can't take orders, I don't need you. You can't work nice with the other kids, I really don't need you. And no offense to the 101 crowd, but I'm not looking to babysit. You can't take care of yourself, don't need you either. Nothing personal.

I don't give a shit about attitude as long as you listen the fuck up, you stay low, and you don't get dead because that'd suck pretty hard for you. Plus then we gotta bring you back and if I bring back bodybags, boss lady's gonna get pissed and cut off my access to the party room and then I'm gonna get pissed. So no stupid moves, no dying, everybody's happy.

And if you wanna know why I'm in charge, other than 'cos I said so? [ she pans the camera over to the entirety of her weapons collection, a few clearly less high quality and more homemade blades joining the throng. ] Because they're my toys, and if you wanna play with them you have to ask nice.

[ she's such a delicate flower. ]

If you're down, we'll talk experience.



( ooc | depending on ic interest in actually going out, we can talk logs and/or handwaving etc. )
 
 
18 March 2013 @ 11:15 pm
[ From the doom and gloom of everyone's existence around here, rolls a voice that's... well okay, not very doom and gloom-y but give him a second. He'll get there. ]

Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.

[ aaaand... a moment of silence. or appreciation. or both. both is good. whichever you'd prefer, because moz just needs a moment to enjoy. or quite possibly brag about this font of information in his brain. now, let's continue. ]

I'm just curious -- no one's actually shot an albatross around here, right? For fun or sport or just to see what might happen if you did, because i'm starting to hope that one of you showed up with some dice. Just, y'know, in case. And by 'in case' I mean every single day. Because those dice might just come in handy when any other frightful friends show up, and that's when i'll be there to remind you.

[ sigh, can you hear him shaking his head? ] I've begun to realize that you'll never run out of stories to tell because of this place, you'll only run out willing ears. The considerable lack of people - [ to use as underground sources ] - to play a game of parcheesi with is starting to become more of a disappointment than I ever thought it could be. What am I supposed to do with my sunday nights now? And if one of you tries to tell me to pick up Go Fish, i'll have you know that I'm only willing to sink so low.

And i've already sunk to the levels of bottom of the barrel three dollar cabernet, which is like licking the floor of a subway tunnel. [ .... er. ] Not that i've ever done that before.

[ well..... ] I might have paid someone else to do it.

But that's not the point. There's only so much boredom one man can stand. Only so many times you can play three-card-monte with yourself before you start getting it on the money. And the payout on that's not so big, if you catch my drift.
 
 
16 March 2013 @ 07:02 pm
-- Well, well. Guess that's what they call a silver linin'...

[ Benny shuts the lid of his small, personal cooler and manages to dangle that off a few fingers while holding what appears to be a wicked looking, makeshift axe... lashed together with some kind of cured skin, a massive bone of some unidentifiable origin and blades of what looks like obsidian, only of a dusty, almost metallic sheen. He's already put on his uniform, that being the first thing available to him that was clean. The navy blue cap of wool, however, he wears... and slips on his matching jacket to boot. It's... more black than he cares for, but that's what he gets for dressing before picking through all his belongings. Can you blame him? Who likes waking up in their skivvies in a tube with some kind of breathing apparatus jammed down your throat?

He's calmer than he was the moments after he woke up, not that anyone can tell that just moments earlier he'd had his mouth filled with razor-sharp fangs and was roaring for a girl no one likely even knew about here. He's had plenty of time in Purgatory to learn how to cool off, and the true meaning of 'cooler heads prevail'. That said, he raises a brow at the device, grasping it's use about as easily as he'd learned to use a cellphone... his Louisiana creole drawl betraying nothing of his alarm: ]


So, should I bother askin' what I'm in for? I figure I'm being charged with something, given the circumstances.
 
 
15 March 2013 @ 05:44 pm
It seems to me we are beyond the point of customary introductions, so I'll err on the side of brevity and attempt to get straight to the essential details of this message. My inquiry is simple. How many of you were capable of certain feats in your home universes that you are now unable to perform? Specifics are helpful, but not necessary. I understand this issue might be very personal, in which case I assure you that anything we discuss will remain in full confidence.

Please do not trouble yourselves if you cannot enlighten me regarding the situation. The elaborate ins and outs of paradox space are admittedly vexing, but any information is appreciated. I have been told that I was here once before, but I am sorry to say I don't remember it. Apologies if you were at all friendly with my apparent other self.

Barring that, I consider myself a fan of a great many conversation topics, so it should not be difficult to find an alternative conference. We can discuss our interests, or what we enjoy doing in our spare time, or which department is most worth joining. Perhaps we will even find that we share an intellectual pursuit or two.

I'll go first. My name is Rose Lalonde. Some of you may have already met my brother and his avian counterpart. I enjoy literature and knitting, and I am exceedingly pleased to make your collective acquaintance.


((OOC: Hit up the opt-out post if you'd like me to turn the text off!))
 
 
09 March 2013 @ 07:57 pm
[ the feed begins with the phone apparently propped up on the bed, and a tiny figure standing in the video as if it's a full-length mirror. roughly five inches tall, in jeans and a halter-top, with lavender-ish coloured hair, wide, startled-looking blue eyes, and.. well, yeah, there's no way around it. he (she?) also has fairy wings, which are settled neatly along his back.

he offers a slightly uncertain smile, reaching out to place hands on the glass curiously, touching fingers to it, then pulling them away again to wiggle them in a shy wave. ]
Hullo! I-- I hope I'm doing this right. I suppose it's a.. a phone, but I've never used one before, so..

[ he shifts a little from bare foot to bare foot, hands curling in the hem of his shirt, wings lifting a little behind him. ]

My name is Lute, and I'm new. I don't think any of the pack is here, and I'm sure my owner isn't, as he would have found me by now, probably. So I suppose I'm here alone.

[ he glances down, toeing at the sheets, chewing on his lower lip. ] Um. I-- You see, I'm not a big person---obviously, I suppose---and I.. It's sort of hard for me to live in a place like this, which is built for big people. And I've never been on my own before, so I don't suppose anyone would.. be interested in a roommate?

[ he rocks up on his toes, expression hopeful. ] I don't take up much space! And I'm very quiet! I can sleep on a shelf if I have a bit of bedding. [ he trails off, then brightens again. ] .. Is there a library here? I saw someone with a book earlier, and I-- I'm allowed to read whatever I like here, aren't I?

[ a brief, searching glance, then a polite little nod. ] .. Um. That's all. Thank you! [ he reaches out, and the feed ends. ]
 
 
09 March 2013 @ 12:11 pm
[ irene's wearing her tweed suit, buttons opened at the collar, waistcoat undone. there's a large golden lab sitting beside her, glorying in the way irene's scratching behind his ears. ]

It seems Baron Vladimir Harkonnen has left us. A true shame. He may have been the only man aboard this ship who properly appreciated the opera, and it's always lovely, finding someone with whom one shares a common interest.

[ there's a pause. the dog's mouth opens, tongue lolling out. irene smiles at that, before addressing the device again. ]

I've been here a year, with this passing jump. More than I thought I would, when I last onsidered the matter. I'd had several suggestions as to what to do to celebrate, if celebrate is the word I should use. None of them are quite to my taste, though I'm not sure such a dubious milestone should go unappreciated.

[ she gives a quiet little hum of thought, then raises her shoulder in an uncharacteristic shrug. ]

But I digress. Tell me, is the owner of this fine animal aboard anywhere? I found him in my doorway, but I doubt he's the ship's way of congratulating me on my stay. Majestic though he is, I'd say the menagerie this ship's acquiring really doesn't need any new additions roaming loose.
 
 
05 March 2013 @ 07:19 pm
[Edgeworth sounds characteristically brisk and serious.]

I would like to ask everyone to take a moment to speak here - or to leave a text message - about what it is that they most wish to get home to, or what it is they most appreciate here.

There's a jump approaching, and not too long from now. As we all know, jumps rarely bring good things - they herald lost friends, new disasters. This is a difficult life we have here aboard this ship - one fraught with pain, with misery, with fear. It's far too easy to become lost in the morass of despair. It's too easy, with each jump, to think: what if I don't? What if I do not go to the jump bay? What if I simply sit back and let it all end?

I ask that you, in this post, remind everyone why it's worth it to keep on. Why it's worth it to suffer through these jumps, month after month, and why it's worth it to keep cautious and not just go seeking our death in those hallways, and why it's worth it to keep trying to make life better here. As we approach this new jump, as we prepare ourselves to welcome and console these new arrivals, let us remember why we should continue to fight.

Thank you all for your attention and cooperation.
 
 
[ my reputation's well set by now, neal says like it's not a big thing and peter can't lie and say it isn't. sure he had let the matter drop then only to half pick it up ( sort of ) later after a conversation with wichita. the lifts and their malfunction had stopped him from having his own conversation that drew off of what wichita has said until just a bit ago.

it bothers him more than usual to know that neal is somewhat keeping things from him. not because he wants to ( god he can't want to because, he's here and hadn't neal been so happy to see him when he came ) but because he doesn't know what he's supposed to say. he's in the dark and maybe he really has gotten involved in something that he can't even remotely get himself out of. and that sets peter on edge, because yes it was neal's own choice but peter could have pulled him back. maybe.

there's a moment on the feed where peter doesn't say anything before he smiles looking just a little tired, double checking that this is all filtered away from neal before he finds himself asking what might be a slightly complicated question for anyone to answer at home. let alone people who know a neal from before his excursion and know a neal from after. ]


I know this is probably an unorthodox question to ask, but if you could indulge me, what are your opinions on Neal Caffrey? I don't care if you're close or if you only know of him through what you've heard, I'd welcome any answers you all have. This is filtered away from him if you're worried about him barging in here acting affronted by anything you say, and I'm not likely to tell him it because it's more for my own curiosity's sake. I happen to know him from home and I was wondering what sort of impression he's left on all of you in the time he's been here.

[ because if neal's reputation is well set then they should all have the same answer. or something close to it. ]
 
 
01 March 2013 @ 08:49 pm
[ finch is stretched out on his belly on the bed, face buried in his arms, naked from the waist up. the video is propped up on something, so the image of him is skewed. he's twitching a little, now and then, fingers curled white-knuckled in the coverlet. ]

Jesus fucking Christ. [ his voice is muffled, faintly shaky, not at all his normal bold self. ] That sucked. This sucks. This whole goddamn ship just-- [ he trails off, finally lifting his eyes, peering over the tops of his arms at the camera. he looks tired, sharp-edged, distracted (hungry-- but isn't he always?). ] .. So. That shit happen often? 'Cause if I'm gonna' be thrown off my routine more than once in a while, I'm gonna' need to start making a plan for emergencies. [ he rubs a hand over his face, then rolls onto his back, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. ]

.. In other news, there are creepier monsters out there than me. Fuckin' good to know. [ he reaches up, slapping the off button. the screen goes dark. ]
 
 
[ sulu's fresh out of the shower, hair sticking up in damp spikes. he's not wearing his command gold, just the black undershirt and pants, sitting by his locker. he holds up a toy car, a quiet smile on his face, amused and a little wistful. ]

You know, these are antiques. Or they were antiques, where I'm from.

[ nostalgia. sulu hesitates a little, flipping the car in his fingers. ]

Of all the things for me to get, it's these. You'd think I'd get...

[ there's a pause, like sulu's thinking better of what he was going to say. then he shrugs a little. ]

Just a weird souvernir, I think.
 
 
10 February 2013 @ 12:05 am
Long time no see, Tranquility. [ Smiling ruefully, Pepper offers the camera a little wave. ] Looks like I've missed a couple of months, if my numbers are anything to go by, which - of course - they are. I don't think I would have even noticed otherwise, to be honest. One more thing to the list of everything else I'm sure people wish we had some say over, though I'm still not sure if I'd rather have here than in whatever limbo that was.

[ She makes a brief, dismissive gesture as if to wave away the thought from floating around her own head. ]

In any case, it's not quite good to be back, but I guess it's not completely awful either. Welcome to space, for the new faces, and as for the old, I'm sure some of us have some catching up to do.

[ And this she finished on a bright note, because positivity!! is something that Pepper is into right now. It's better than moping or complaining, and besides, she thinks that some people could probably do with seeing more people who aren't pontificating, mourning losses or bemoaning the ship - it may not be great, but it's what they've got. ]
 
 
03 February 2013 @ 07:30 pm
[ Greg's been on board for four weeks now, and he's seriously homesick. Fortunately for everyone else, he's decided to do something about it (in addition to moping, which already is doing something, thank you very much). ]

I need some statistics. Well-- Raw numbers would be good, too, actually, or anecdotal evidence, or anything you want to tell me. Okay.

Does anyone know-- What's the probability you'll disappear any given jump? Does the probability change if you've been here for longer, or for people who got here on certain jumps? Even if no one's calculated the probability, does anyone have records of everyone who's ever been on the ship? The headcount only lists the most recent jump, and having those lists would help us figure out the statistics and look for patterns. [ Not that there is an "us" right now, but there could be, in the future. Maybe. ]

Um, and third? Fourth? Whatever this is-- How many of you are here with someone else from your... world, I guess is the best word for it? And does anyone have statistics for that? [ He sighs. He's not excited at the prospect of all this number-crunching, but at least it's something he can do to keep himself occupied, and it might give him a more realistic view of how likely he is to disappear, presumably going home, or at least see a familiar face anytime soon. ]

Anyway, come talk to me if you have information or if you want to help or anything. There could be a lot of data to deal with, and. Well. [ This is the face of a teenager who really wants help and really doesn't want to ask for it. ] Help would be really great? Um. I'll be hanging out in the 14th floor in one of the common areas, near the lifts, so. Yeah.
 
 
02 February 2013 @ 02:36 pm
[This begins with a video: Seraphim's hand, holding a dish made of gross gelatinous goo. She sets it down on what is obviously a kitchen counter, and the video clicks off, and the text begins.]

I know we all are living on top of each other and in each other's space, but I think it's only polite to throw away your gross experiments or leftover food or unholy sacrifices. Or store them in places where other people don't accidentally put their hands in it.

I don't know what that stuff is but it smells like it's rotting and it was in the sixth floor kitchen fridge for I don't know how long.

I really don't think we should need to have a class on how to live in a dorm. Or something like a chore wheel.

Seriously whoever this belongs to, come clean it up. Please, and thank you.



[ooc: Thanks, Jaye and Mike.]
 
 
01 February 2013 @ 12:40 pm
[ hello, tranquility. you remember dean, right? yes? no? either way, today finds him planning something stupid. at least act surprised. ]

I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I'm not looking forward to climbing back into that pod-thing for another jump. [ nope, not one bit. not if it means there's a chance he won't wake up for another month again. ]

Does anyone know what would happen if I skipped out on that? I mean, I guess turnin' into space dust's worse than pullin' another act of Sleeping Beauty, but if there's any way 'round that… Or if you have some gruesome tale 'bout how your buddy Joe tried it and got eaten by a space dinosaur, let's hear 'bout it.

[ let him know. or something.

a beat later, and on an entirely different subject; ]
Also. Who the hell does a guy have to get cozy with 'round here to get somethin' more... fun in his locker? [ do yourself a solid and don't ask what's fun is. the smirk on his face should speak for him. it's gone with the next bit though; ] ...'cause not for nothing, but aside from people dyin' and monsters lurking in the dark, not a lot seems to happen 'round here. Almost like home, y'know, except for this bein' some sci-fi nerd's wet dream.

[ okay, maybe that's a little unfair considering he has to physically stop himself from losing his shit every time some iconic pop culture character decides to show up. ]

( PRIVATE TO SAM WINCHESTER ; ENCRYPTION 50% ) )
 
 
28 January 2013 @ 11:15 pm
[ there's a rustling before the feed begins- but the sound is impossible to place as any one thing. in the background, the tell-tale beep and hum of medical can be heard, chased by heavy footfalls and the clacking of records. melissa's head lifts into the feed, hair a messy knot on top of her head trying desperately to escape.

there may or may not be a plate of waffles and inhuman amount of empty mugs sitting on the table just visible over her elbow. ]


Hey listen, I know you've probably heard it all before, and I know the network is just packed with don't-go-out messages from people you don't even know, but please.

[ her hands come together before the feed, fingers laced and pleading. ]

Please, from all of us working eighteen hour shifts- don't go out. Give us a week? Keep your arms and legs on your bodies? Because frankly, my last decent meal was a microwaved burrito and that was three days ago.

A week, please, that's all I ask.






And maybe if someone could run by with a few extra coffee filters.
We're getting a little desperate.
 
 
[ normally, this kind of thing starts with jenna scattered, or looking slightly surprised that recording is actually happening. none of that, for once; instead she's sitting in one of the therapy rooms, behind a desk with her comm propped up enough to see a truly righteous amount of brightly colored pillows behind her. she's calm, cool, collected and super prepared, there may be notes involved.

she has a handout, y'all. ]


I have a speech I put together so I'm just going to launch into it, and I'll do the social skill stuff after, honest. [ a deep breath. ] Okay, so. Between earlier in the month with Tony, and-- other conversations, I've realized that there might be more confusion about what therapy is and what it can do for people than I had thought. So! Consider this one woman's very, very biased take on it.

Therapy is, in an overly simplified hippie way, trying to help people heal their brains and their hearts. Not the actual organs-- thoughts and feelings. It's working through problems that keep you from living your life as well as possible.

There are a lot of fields and specialties but I'm going to talk about my preferences and style, since-- I'm kind of it, right now, when it comes to the traditional discipline side of things.

[ looking down again, at an out of frame notebook, jenna takes a breath. ]

The first thing I want to say is I'm not stuck on sitting in chairs and talking about your childhood. If you want to take a pillow and beat the wall and then talk about music? It's your session, go ahead. That doesn't mean we can do whatever you want, but it does mean I understand that opening up to a total stranger is hard and admittedly sucks and most of you don't know me well enough to just assume you can trust me. That's okay-- it's smart, actually. And if you'd like to start seeing me, we can work on building that trust, but I don't expect it to just magically appear because I say I'll do my best to help you.

Uh-- right, second point. I can go over this more in detail one on one, but I'm not a licensed therapist, I'm a grad student. A grad student would be like... a master apprentice? Almost to being a master maker of whatevers myself, but just a year or two shy. Anyway, that makes what I'm doing illegal, back home-- not to mention a million kinds of unethical and more than a little gross. Believe me, I know, and I didn't really set out to declare myself Space Therapist. If me not being licensed makes you uncomfortable I completely understand and respect a desire to hold out for someone who isn't still midway through their thesis, but it was pointed out that until then I should offer for people who don't mind.

...and a quick third: at home, I'd never see clients in a social situation. No one would know about my life, my problems or bad habits, anything like that. But this isn't home and you may see me at the bar, so if that would make you uncomfortable I also understand, but we make do with what we have up here.

[ she clears her throat and taps a few keys. ]

Here, I put together an informal quick list about what therapy is and isn't.

ic post attachment )

...I think that's about it for the official side.

[ and with that the attempt at Serious Posture and Mature Gravity fades back into something more naturally jenna. ]

Now I get to be normal life Jenna, not therapist Jenna. [ offering a wave. ] Hey, new people-- I'm Jenna, if you missed Tony's last scientific doom post. I mentioned it there too, but again: if you don't mind being expected to lend a hand helping in some way or another, dinners happen nightly on the kitchen nearer to the lower numbered rooms, floor one. It's not exciting food, but I can promise it won't completely suck and there will be enough for anyone. Anyone who wants something fancy can... make it for themselves, pretty much.

...does anyone do haircuts, on a completely different end note? We can talk trading if you want, I just need a trim. [ her mouth twitches, mischievously. SUP CHAPEL. ] And a friend told me it's good to make sure people know how to cut hair to the right length before you ask for the haircut in the first place.


locked to damon salvatore » 100% )
 
 
26 January 2013 @ 01:48 pm
[ sup, tranquility. enjoy this tiny, chipper teenybopper with big dreams. ]

Hello, people of the Tranquility. I'm Rachel Berry, from Lima, Ohio, circa 2011-2012, and I have a question for you all.

[ a deep breath. THIS IS IMPORTANT, TQ. ]

Does anyone here play an instrument? Or sing? Or dance? Or have any artistic inclinations whatsoever? 
 
 
24 January 2013 @ 04:00 pm
[ It's been a while since Cibo put herself on the network, hasn't it? She's a little nervous looking, which is different because what she wants to ask is something she knows nothing about. That makes her a little embarrassed for no real reason actually. I mean, it's totally understandable that she doesn't know about— ]

What is a girlfriend supposed to do for a boyfriend? [ And why isn't she asking Scout? Because he probably doesn't know either. They're both a little clueless on this. Baby steps and what not. ] We already talk to each other and... [ You know. ] I just don't know if we should be doing anything different now.

I've never been in this sort of relationship before, so...

[ What is dating even supposed to be like? She has no clue.

With a little smile the video ends. ]