[The feed opens to Luke's face, streaked, red, and blotchy. He's obviously been crying and he attempted to clean up, but his efforts weren't quite good enough to hide it. Around him is the quiet privacy of his room where he's been hiding.]

I need help.

I need advice.

Er--... I don't even know what I need exactly. I just-- I need to talk to somebody.

[He pauses to take a deep breath and gather his thoughts, running a hand through his hair.]

My best friend woke up from a pod for the first time yesterday. He doesn't know it yet but in the time I come from he's dead. He was killed in a battle. I had to lie to him a bit and--... I don't know what to do now.

He's probably going to find out eventually and I don't think it's right to keep hiding it from him, either. If I know he'll find out sooner or later I'd want it to be from me, you know? Not-- not from someone who might not be as careful about it, or--

I just... I don't know. Then sometimes I think that maybe it'd be better if he never finds out. Maybe he never has to know. He can spend his time here without having to worry about his future because I don't even know what that would--

[Luke decides to not go any further with that thought tangent. Imagining his friend becoming an empty shell and living out the rest of his time on the ship like that isn't something Luke wants to spend any more time thinking about.

He gathers himself, sniffs, and sits up straighter, pushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes. He wants to go about this as objectively as possible, considering only Biggs' feelings on the matter, but it's difficult to near impossible to keep his own feelings in check.]


Anyway, I want to hear from someone who's been in the same spot. Would you want to know? Or would you rather never find out? And then from the other side of things, have you ever had to talk to someone about this kind of thing? Let me know... if you can. Thanks.
 
 
09 April 2014 @ 05:00 pm
Alaric Saltzman and Jenna Sommers went home. I know a lot of you were friends of theirs, and they were here for a long time. I'm sorry for your loss.

[ it's short, but elena doesn't really know what else to say. just that hurt to type, and she can't... she just can't. knowing what they're going back to, that jenna is dead and ric is going to go crazy and then die too... she doesn't want that for them, doesn't want to think about it.

for all the tranquility's faults -- and faults is putting it lightly -- she at least had jenna and ric. her family was mostly put back together, and it was safe so long as they didn't try to do anything stupid. now they're gone, and damon doesn't remember anything, and honestly, she just wants to go home. there's nothing here anymore that makes staying worth it.
]
 
 
13 March 2014 @ 02:17 pm
Since everyone's all about hiring on help these days-- I've got a few things that need doing if there are any bored volunteers. Also a few things on a shopping list if there's anyone that recently arrived with a decent stash

Shopping list is easy: tea, more tea, spices, decent bacon, cigarettes, movies that aren't space knock offs. Watched almost all of those sixteen thousand times each. Though I recommend space Titanic, which is weirdly better than the Leoardo DiCaprio version.

Things that need doing: someone to move something seriously heavy, someone else to make a delivery and pickup.


You'll be paid in space beer or space risotto. Space beer and space risotto is also what we have to trade with for the stuff on the shopping list. And all of it's semi important, especially the tasks. Only slightly less important than the tasks is the cigarettes.
[A pause.] And maybe the tea.

Thanks.



[ooc ps - there is totally not a sneaky vampire plot embedded in here, don't worry!!! but if you volunteer for the delivery & pickup it will entail a rifle drop off and maybe some (lots of) lying. be warned.]
 
 
20 February 2014 @ 02:01 am
Let me start this by saying that I feel absolutely silly for having not thought of doing this a long, long time ago, but - well. That's obviously not longer the case. But I ought to get it out of the way anyhow.

[a breath.]

Katherine Stewart.

Marguerite Chadwick.

Stanley Chadwick.

Anthony Proud.

Delphine Gaudin.

Emilia Gorski-Grumley.

[With a little tension in her voice-] Julia Grumley.

[And after a pointed pause, exhaling again - this name is the hardest to say.] And Frederick Grumley.

I don't suppose anyone here has seen either of these people. Or - is any of these people? Who knows how long I've been here, but considering how long we've all been here, I... I thought it couldn't hurt to ask. If I'm here, chances are one of them might be, too. Not that it would be ideal, but I'd rather know about it.

[Read: she misses them. And she's worried about them. So there you have it.]

Thank you.
 
 
08 January 2014 @ 11:50 am
[ spike turns to his ~companion~ as he regretfully pulls his shirt on. it’s a beautiful tropic day in the gardens and he was intending to enjoy it, but maybe he and pete should say their hello-again’s to the community at large. ]

You know what I could really go for right about now? Jammy dodgers. Been dreaming about them all month…

That's the first thing you're gonna say? [ peter glances over, undoing the leash on izzie's collar. ] - Actually, I'm not even a little surprised that it's food you want to tell the network about.

[ sigh. ] Nothing I dreamed about had anything to do with food. Could've used a few less nightmares, but now I just want to know what's up with my dog.

[ spike shoots peter a look before immediately stooping down to greet said dog, patting her head and pretending her dad didn’t just say a really rude thing!! ] Isabelle, darling, don’t listen to him, huh? [ though upon closer inspection… she looked a little more rotund than usual, maybe. grumpier, slower. he glanced back up. ]

What has your brother been feeding her? [ he asks sharply, hands over the lab’s ears so she couldn’t hear them talk about how fat she was. that was before he picked one ear up and spoke into it for dramatic effect. ] He gave you all the jammy dodgers, didn’t he?

[ izzie groaned, and spike stood up. it was a puzzle though, to be sure. ]

I'm not even sure Nathan knows what those are, Spike. Besides, he wouldn't share them even if he did. [ he shoots the camera a look, then stares a little longer before looking back at spike, leaving izzie to her unpleasant sounds for a moment. ]

You're sure that's all you dreamed about? Anything else? [ network, tell him he wasn't the only one please. ] Or are cookies really all you've got to say for yourself?

Are you sure that's appropriate for the network, Peter... [ yeah, he's just looking to get slapped at this point. ] Alright, alright. So I had nightmares too. Sometimes the biscuits sprang to life, with little angry-faces like and chased me around the ship.

[ he's definitely getting hit the second the feed goes off. ]


(( responses will come from both spike and peter petrelli unless otherwise specified. ))
 
 
22 September 2013 @ 06:29 pm
[ THIS IS FORWARD DATED spike would usually do this up on video but given the chaos and just how shitty he looks-- oh, yeah, if you haven't seen spike in a bit there's a reason for it. he looks like death. literally. skinny, sallow, low-energy. he's not even quipping like he should be. he's scarcely been here ninety days, but without blood, he's not healing like he should. these demons are giving him the go around and he doesn't like it. so have a raspy english voice, sounding much tireder than usual, which really everyone should expect given the theme around here. ]

I'll tell you all, I've seen an apocalypse or two in my day. And this? This is a bloody disaster.

Floor 22, Room 17. I've got some weapons and hiding spots, but that's not what I'm on about. I'll see you all in the trenches anyway. [ he takes a breath, he might be smoking. ]

...This blood situation, yeah? For us vamps. [ pauuuuuse ] It's wrong, and I'll tell you why it's wrong. This might be a bloody big ship, but it's going to start seeming a whole hell of a lot smaller if we keep handing over human to them--us. To us.

I don't drink human blood, it's a life choice. Let's use an analogy. Now, I talked to an expert on the subject so let's call 'blood' ... 'heroin.' And let's call bagged blood something they call 'methadone.' That's a drug used to bring someone down off scag, if you didn't know. But it doesn't work, and neither does this. Drinking it from a bag? Well. Just makes someone want the real thing.

Over on the Cyllene, guy name of Jayne told me to look for Dr. Tam up in the med bay? But I'm sorry, doc, and anyone else who might have a hand in that concoction -- I don't trust it. Don't ruddy well trust anyone with a beaker and I've got good reason.

There's got to be another way.

[ he hangs up rather abruptly, it takes a lot to get a rise out of him like this. it took the perfect cocktail of starvation, sleeplessness, nightmares and demons from his homeworld but now he's here and he's mad. and yeah, no that's basically it. ]
 
 
21 September 2013 @ 08:48 pm
[ josh is looking a bit too disconcertingly mountain man-ish to pull off video, and he's too interested in not announcing his supernatural status to go for voice. that means anonymous text, though he's slightly reluctant to send it; he's aware this is a very weird and very specific question. ]

Who has experience with witches and shapeshifters? Either or, but if you know anything about an overlap, i.e. magic being used to prevent or prolong a shift, please share with the class.

And just to clarify: magic as in black magic, the kind with corpses and soul trading and other non-refundable mistakes. Mary Poppins need not apply.


[ and by mary poppins he means you jokers with the pink hair and the antlers. but that only covers one possibility, so a few extremely reluctant seconds later: ]

Or if you've ever just heard of shapeshifters getting stuck. Like, stuck in one form. Please share that too.
 
 
18 September 2013 @ 05:27 pm
[Amy’s rubbing her forehead, and most of her blue nail polish looks chewed off. When she takes her hand away, there’s shadows under her eyes.

Her lipstick is still pretty perfect though.
]

I don't mind not sleeping when it's something worth staying up for. Parties or watching the sun rise on some far off beach or even looking for someone.

[She says that part a little louder, like she thinks the Doctor can actually hear her. Wherever he is.]

But it’s been days without a proper rest, and I’m starting to see new imaginary friends and I don’t want them.

Come on. I know someone's got a boring story around here. Hasn’t someone ever watched paint dry or…caught a big fish only to have it get away?
 
 
17 September 2013 @ 11:38 pm
[Q looks completely wrecked. The lack of sleep that the Tranquility has so kindly blessed him with has left him looking almost on death's door, bags under his eyes and his clothes and hair dishevelled. Apparently, however, insomnia prompts either genius or madness and around him are a plethora of papers and diagrams, repeatedly scribbled out and redrawn with blue and red pen. Q rubs his bloodshot eyes and smiles slightly up at his audience.]

Hello, there. So these past few months have been rather hectic and it got me thinking. [That and more cups of tea than he would care to count.]

So the universe is endless, yes? A giant mass of endless stars. As our telescopes get stronger and stronger and we look out into the void of space, we keep finding more to look at. We cannot find its horizon.

[He rocks on the balls of his feet and begins to rifle through his papers.]

Yet a recent theory suggested that while it's endless, it isn't some vast, infinite mass. Instead, it loops back on itself. Time and space is...a doughnut.

[He holds up a complex diagram filled with numbers and various intersecting circles up to the camera.]

If we look far enough into the distance, we can see ourselves and it is my belief that the people, the things which we are witnessing on The Tranquility are either ourselves or the ship's past or future catching up on us. The jumps, in my opinion, are literal, as we dot from place to place, picking up fragments of time.

[He lets out a sigh and scratches his head.]

Fuck me if I know who Smiley is though.
 
 
16 September 2013 @ 06:36 pm
[Noah never dreamed that it would come to this - literally. His dreams are peaceful, and he wants nothing more than for other people's to be the same. And yet it only took being on the ship for a year to change his mind. But if anything could, it's the Tranquility.

He looks tired, but who doesn't these days.
]

I'm in need of a favour, perhaps a big one. I'm in the market for a certain form of training, hand-to-hand, no weapons. I'd like the focus to be on self-defense. I think.

[Suddenly reminded of those customers who used to come into his shop, wanting something but not having the slightest idea what.]

I've been unable to protect the people I care about, my fellow passangers, even myself. I'd like to change that. I believe I'm strong enough, and I'm no stranger to pain.

[He grimaces before his next words.]

I've just never cared much for hitting.

In return, you'd have my thanks, and a few dinners made with what's left of my stolen spice rack. I have saffron.

[Look, if that doesn't convince you nothing will.]
 
 
[Spike puts his booted feet up on the table in the lounge, puffing idly on a cigarette. He kinda didn't care about the recirculated air thing given that he didn't actually need to breathe. Instead he's just going to get right to it, leaning over the feed.]

Can't believe what the kitchen here calls 'hot wings.' More like spicy mystery meat, if you ask me. Which you didn't, but I'm telling you anyway. Because there's not one bloody thing else to do up here. Can only walk round in circles so many times before you start getting dizzy. Not that I've done that...

[Instead he's been riding the elevators up and down for the better part of four hours.]

Say, anyone know how to play cribbage? I'd settle for a rollicking game of Operation, at this rate.

[He's away from the screen just a moment, coming back up without his cigarette.]

I know. Charades. Yeah? [He stands up and sets the device far enough away to catch his expression. First word. A person. He flaps his arms like wings then rearranges his brow to hang over his eyes. See what he's doing here... No, probably not. He puts his hands together like prayer and draws a halo over his head with smoke from his cigarette (that he quickly puts down again, off screen).

There's a pause, and then Spike rolls his eyes. He got bored of his own boredom-curing movement.]
You know the guy. He's not really on security, is he?

[The video ends with a slightly melodic laugh and a hoo sound. As in, hoo boy, that's a knee-slapper.

You're welcome, Ataraxion.]