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Entry tags:
- altered carbon: takeshi kovacs,
- doctor who: clara oswald,
- knives out: marta cabrera,
- mcu: erik stevens,
- mcu: peter quill,
- one piece: rosinante donquixote,
- pacific rim: newton geiszler,
- pacific rim: raleigh becket,
- star trek aos: leonard mccoy,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- the old guard: andromache,
- transformers: megatron
text | un: m.cabrera
[ turns out? space doesn't give a single fuck about your circadian rhythm. or maybe insomnia is just that attached to her that even the absence of a sun dictating her internal clock doesn't faze it, like an old friend you wish would just forget you already.
one night (?) late into the early hours (???) marta finds herself drifting out of the room she's come to assume will be hers for the indefinite future, passing through stark white walls with all the sterility of a hospital, but none of its familiar chaos.
she's still getting used to the earpiece. still getting used to hearing other people's voices in her head. she doesn't mean to add another in the void, but one of her own thoughts blares out too vividly as she stares out into an actual void: ]
—but where are the stars?
one night (?) late into the early hours (???) marta finds herself drifting out of the room she's come to assume will be hers for the indefinite future, passing through stark white walls with all the sterility of a hospital, but none of its familiar chaos.
she's still getting used to the earpiece. still getting used to hearing other people's voices in her head. she doesn't mean to add another in the void, but one of her own thoughts blares out too vividly as she stares out into an actual void: ]
—but where are the stars?
someone's too busy to brain text
Do you really think over a billion people are aboard this station?
is brain texting harder than speaking...
[ a beat. ]
Have you?
#showerthoughts
No.
[But he’s some thoughts. The sort of thoughts you have around midnight and haven’t stopped googling since.]
But a station this size can’t withhold the gargantuan population of an entire planet. For one, you’d need a bigger kitchen for that. Last we need is a civil war over who ate the last morsels of cornflakes.
pls tell me that's not why he's busy
[ but anyway. from the way he talks she can at least surmise: ]
You've been here awhile? You... know how this all works?
nah lmao he is casually sticking his head inside the freezer
But very well, the Doctor’s yet to do any welcome wagon-ing with any of the recent bunch. ]
Long enough to know that we have only scratched the surface to figuring how any of “this” works.
[Quick beat.]
Or are you referring to how to operate the microwave?
...there is now a weird echo to their conversation
if she sounds a little tired in response, it's only because she is. ]
The microwave is one of the few things that looks familiar to me, so no.
But if you'd like help with it, I guess I could start being useful here.
no subject
One minute and twenty-five seconds.
[He says ever so flatly with a hint of gleefulness.]
no subject
...Is that your preferred microwave time?
no subject
[Is all this unhelpful? Perhaps. But he hasn’t exactly lost the plot with her initial question.]
It’s a terrible model if you’d ask me. But I’ve learned to work with what I have.
no subject
[ popcorn in space. why not. why not. maybe that's her problem — she's thinking too big.
(she's thinking too much.) ]
Is there popcorn in the kitchen? I haven't really inspected.
no subject
Allow me to rephrase that question for you:
Would you like to get in on this?
no subject
So long as I'm not going to incite a civil war...
no subject
[He takes on a semi-serious tone, ending the word milk with an extra click of his tongue.]>
Storage unit closet inside the lab. C’mon then Little Miss Frosted Flakes!
--> ackshunnn
her footsteps are quiet upon entering, and the panning glance she gives is drawn out so she can take the lab in its entirety. save for a few objects that look like they were pulled right out of a science fiction novel, and an odd hum that she can't pinpoint the source of, it all looks remarkably plain. almost eerily so.
she pads her way over to the storage closet, taking the time to give the door a knock before giving it a gentle push. ]
Doctor— [ what was his username again? ] ...Disco?
no subject
His approach is much less quiet than Marta’s.]
Please, only mummy calls me Doctor Disco. Just call me the Doctor.
no subject
Just — Doctor? Medical or academic?
1/2
S L U R P I N G THE JELLO OUT. ]
no subject
The original one.
no subject
no subject
The... first Doctor ever?
no subject
The definitive one, you might say.
[He extends his arm to prop the closet door wide open. Don’t be weird, Marta. Step into his office.]
Question is: Who’s the girl looking for the stars?
no subject
[ she sighs, defeated and resigned, but it's far too late for guessing games now. one would think she'd be a little more wary stepping into a small, dark space with a deflecting stranger, but what's he going to do? hit her over the head with his guitar?
...no really, what's he going to do? ]
Marta. Not the original, not the definitive. Just another person hoping to clean up a mess back home.
[ to put it mildly. she blinks into the shadows. ]
Why are we in a closet, again?