Chocolate-flavored Dessert Cream on the House

[thespaceopera]

[The bunks are filling up, but the new faces just keep appearing!

Are you a travel-weary passenger having trouble keeping your crew roster straight? Perhaps you are a fresh new recruit, finding themselves dumped into a new (and much less shiny) home. Or, maybe you've been around for a little bit and just haven't bothered meeting the other weirdos on this ship yet--what is their problem, anyway?

Well, this is the place for you!

All new passengers from the last few Shuffles, especially those who haven't met their crews yet, are welcome to post starter-comments here to invite those living on and visiting your ship to come and interact. Newbies could be just arriving on the ship, busying around where others can find them, or you can offering multiple options for interaction--however you'd like to set up your thread is fine. Just make sure to include the name of your ship in the header, so your crewmates can easily find you!

Everyone else-- go meet those newbies! Whether they are new to your own crew, or on ships you frequently visit, now is a great time to bump into them.]

Comments

FDR | SS Starstruck | video/action

[bigvessel]

[A. Arrival]
[Oh he is so not a fan of the confetti. Who the hell thinks it's fun to get little pieces of paper tossed in their hair and on their clothes? And every time he thinks he's wiped the last one off his sweater, he inevitably catches sight of another one out of the corner of his eyes. And he just hopes it's all out of his hair until he can find a mirror and confirm.

Yeah. He's not real happy with his circumstances, and it only gets worse when he finds the bunks, and that they all look occupied. Or the lockers. With...jumpers? Seriously? Or the bathrooms that remind him of something from high school gym lockers.

And by the time he gets to the kitchen and scopes out what they have there, he's just so done. He finds himself a seat and just chews on his knuckles and kind of zones out in an attempt to keep his cool.]


[B. Bridge]
[Okay. So, for as many years as he's been claiming to be a cruise ship captain, this is actually the first time he's had to pretend to be one on a ship, so it just makes sense to go check out the navigation area, right? See if he can identify flickering lights and toggles and gauges or whatever crap spaceships have on them.

So that's where he goes, wanders in like he belongs there, because he doesn't know how to act differently, and immediately he knows what he's looking at. It's bizarre to suddenly know things he's never even laid his eyes on before, and for the first time it settles on him that maybe he's been more than just kidnapped.] Great. Now I feel kind of violated.

[But, that's not going to stop him from exploring the dashboard, especially now that he can read it.]

[C. Starstruck: video]
Alright. New here. [And he gives a tilt of his head in greeting. Waves are for queens.] Name's FDR and I've got two pretty important questions. [But fingers are for everybody, so he holds up one finger.]. The first being, where the hell am I supposed to sleep?

And second, [Another finger and a shake.] does anyone know exactly where we're being recorded on this ship for the show? Like, are we talking PG areas or are alien voyeurs watching us shower and sleep too?

action » bridge

[mucked]

[ as he wanders, he just might come across a well-poised brunette as she toggles one switch after another on the communications panels. quiet little routine checks, because she finds that a schedule keeps her calm. focused.

but she hears his footsteps before he steps onto the bridge. peggy glances over her shoulder, expecting perhaps to see another regular crew member. instead, she sees him. a strange face. hmm. ]

You must be the fresh meat. [ she rises from her chair and approaches him. silk blouse and pencil skirt, she looks as though she just stepped out of a 1940s office building instead of a spaceship. and, in many ways, that's precisely what's happened to her.

peggy offers him a hand. ]

[bigvessel]

[He pauses when he realizes he's not the only one in the room, and he watches her intensely as she moves and comes toward him. At first it's just to make sure she's human. This is space, after all. But she certainly looks human. In fact, at second sweep she looks like she just walked out of the pages of a pin-up magazine.

And he doesn't verbally say it, but there's a very wow kind of appreciation on his face before he offers her a firm handshake.]

Looks like. [And he smiles softly at her.] I'm FDR, and who might you be?

[mucked]

[ if she recognizes the sentiment behind his expression, then she also chooses to blithely ignore it. her smile is friendly -- warm, really. and forgiving of a new arrival's possible trespasses. ]

Peggy Carter. First mate, here on the Starstruck. Welcome aboard -- sorry, FDR, was it?

[ it's only just last year that franklin d. roosevelt passed away. ]

[bigvessel]

First mate? [Oh, well that's lucky. Because he's got a lot of questions and a first mate sounds like the perfect person to ask. So his tone shifts slightly, because as focused as he can be, very little can make him forget a pretty girl when he's in front of one.]

Yeah, like the president. [And he smiles in a way to show she's not the first person to make that connection. Even if there is no connection. But there's definitely worse associations.] Parents were a fan.

Anyway, is it alright if I pick your brain for a few, then?

[mucked]

[ a flicker of interest. like the president -- of course, it's no small surprise any longer that people come from all walks of life and moments in time. but fdr's words confirm for her, at least, that he comes from some version of earth. and from some year well beyond her own, if his parents were a fan. ]

Pick away. [ she stands precisely in one spot. happy to help, but clearly not eager to launch into any explanation without a particular request for one. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[Max is working on a minor issue with one of the shuttles when the shuffle's announced. Not that he particularly cares — he never looks to see who's coming and going. He simply waits for people to show up or vanish, and mostly ignores them in favor of solitude any chance he gets. Today is certainly no different. He's got a panel off and is hidden underneath the small ship, configuring with what his augment as a pilot has taught him. FDR likely passed right by him at some point, but if any actual introduction was given... Well, he's busy. He would've just grunted a dismissive noise and kept on keepin' on.

But he figures he needs to stretch out his bum leg after taking too long on the ground, and he slides out and makes his way to the bridge to survey it. Paranoid fellow, here. It pays to make sure the thing he's stuck in is functioning at its full capacity.

He shoulders right by the guy without so much as a glance, rough sandpaper sound behind closed mouth as he leans in to inspect the dash the other guy had just been looking at. He's an odd sight (for more than just a creepy resemblance): hair a bit unkempt, the scruff on his chin a bit more untamed since he hasn't bothered to shave (Peggy likely hates it, but he hardly cares about her distaste for his hobo charm). A nice tan dimmed only faintly by his time out of the sun for many months, even before the Fleet. A limp to his step.

An odd guy for sure.

And rude, of course.]

[bigvessel]

[Hey, there is such a thing as a personal bubble, buddy. And he has every intention of letting the guy know it too, with an angry turn of the head and words on the tip of his tongue and-and then they all just kind of wither and die, because. Because Tuck?

Oh, sure. There are some differences. Like. Serious differences. That scruff isn't right, but honestly, some of the holes they've been in before for weeks on missions? He's seen it before. He's seen the unkempt, and as much as he will never admit, Tuck can say the same for him. The clothes are bad though, but then a search through the lockers and that's all forgiven too. And the tan, well, it doesn't even matter because thank god he's not alone here. Dealing with space? Being kidnapped? Part of some alien TV version of Big Brother? It suddenly feels a lot lighter knowing that he doesn't have to do it alone.]

Tuck! [So, instead of words or glares, he flings his arms around the guy in a totally manly display of affection-if he'll let him.] Man I missed you! [Yeah, even if it's just been a few hours since he's seen him. And the last time he saw him the asshole shot him with a tranq dart while he was on his date with Lauren, but that is so under the bridge right now.]

1/5

[theroadwarrior]

[Max begins this mental journey with the shortest of startled confusions.

It is as follows:]

2/5

[theroadwarrior]

[what the fuck]

3/5

[theroadwarrior]

[WHAT THE FUCK]

4/5

[theroadwarrior]

[wHaT the FUckK]

5/6 HA YOU THOUGHT IT WAS JUST 5

[theroadwarrior]

6/6

[theroadwarrior]

[FDR's hardly aggressive maneuver, be that as it may — well. Max just decides to throw his forehead as hard as he can toward this poor stranger's chin, because he's really not sure how else to respond to someone inexplicably trying to squeeze the shit out of him. And then he very gracefully gives a great big friendly shove, as hard as his arms muster.

HELLO WELCOME TO THE STARSTRUCK]

jfc

[bigvessel]

[It's a hug, you jackass. Nobody is squeezing anyone. And he's hugged Tuck a thousand times, probably more, it happens to be a kind of regular part of their routine. And he knows what to expect every time, an arm around his shoulder, a slap on his back. A totally bromo confession of love.

NOT A GOD DAMN FOREHEAD TO THE FACE. And damned if he wishes he could say Tuck would never do that, because...okay Tuck actually has a temper and they might have gotten into a few fights in the past. So even this isn't an actual deal-breaker.

But he's seeing stars even before he's shoved back hard into the console, and any buttons that are pressed or activated are totally on the dick in front of him, because he can't be assed to check. Because there's blood running down his lip, and his face hurts, and his back hurts, and has Tuck always had that much upper body strength? He wouldn't be surprised if he ends up with palm shaped bruises on his chest.

He should probably take a second to assess the situation. That's what a calm, collected CIA agent would do. But, that's not him. No, instead he balls up his fist and he comes charging back. He's not interested in an actual fight, but he is very much interested in returning that greeting.]

What the hell?!

it's how max bonds with people, just ask furiosa

[theroadwarrior]

[Max sort of kind of considers that the guy had said someone else's name — that was lost to the sudden freeze-frame going on in his head and the jump-start of his instincts to fight and flight, of course. Now, though, he's in full combat mode, eyes dark and a snarl that's nearly animalistic on his lips as he ducks backward as best as he can. The problem is, he has nothing but buttons behind him, too, so he's got really no choice but to face the man so he can get some distance from him.

... And maybe figure out why this is happening.

What are you doing, Max?! Glory hollers at his face, inches from it, and he's startled by it too much to do much but take that punch to the cheek hard. He hits the console sideways, a slight cut on his cheek bleeding from the sharpness of the punch (not bad); he pushes off on his forearm, speeding forward to charge all of his surprisingly stout, stalwart weight into it with a rough, sand-scraped growl. He's panicked and angry, two great ways to be introduced to new people.

Hope you don't mind re-crashing into things.

If it makes you feel any better, he's crashing with you. But on the bright side, he realizes he shouldn't go for the eyes. In fact, his mind is finally catching up with him, sort of. Or trying to. Every time he tries to get his deduction skills back into play, his cheek throbs something fierce.]

B.

[resnipstance]

[Ahsoka's sitting in the pilot's chair, swinging around and grinning. Hope you like aliens, because this teenage girl is definitely not human.]

New pilot?

[bigvessel]

[Oh. Hello...teenage alien. When she swings around to greet him, he freezes in his steps. Congratulations, you're the first alien he's seen. And he's pretty much prepared himself for this possible meeting, but that doesn't make it any less strange. At least she's not the little green man he was expecting. Young looking and cheerful were not what he had in mind though.]

Uh. Yeaaah. I guess so. Who are you?

[resnipstance]

Ahsoka Tano. Also a pilot.

I'm glad we've got more. It'll make shifts a lot easier.

[bigvessel]

Shifts. [Right. Working on a spaceship. That's a thing he's going to be doing now.] Just-um. Are you...part of the whole yanking people into space thing? Or you just another casualty?

[Sorry. Alien tv show. Alien. Gotta check, Ahsoka.]

[resnipstance]

Sorry. Just a fellow prisoner.

You didn't think they'd only get humans, right? I mean, I get that you guys are everywhere, but c'mon.

A

[lord_wizard]

[He's lost the ability to seem particularly surprised when a new person appears on the ship (though the arrivals are at least somewhat predictable), though it might be just a little bit inconvenient since Atroma had apparently decided the fleet did not merit any more new ships. He's apparently lost some of his ability to be sympathetic, going by the fact that he breezes past the man and dispenses himself a drink before he comments]

You seem vexed.

[bigvessel]

[Despite the thousand-year-stare, he notices the man when he comes in. Of course he does, years of training and a healthy dose of paranoia has him on alert. And he's not sure what he's supposed to see here. Humans, aliens, monsters. Possibly one of the assholes that brought him here-but then that'd just be too lucky to expect them to be roaming the crowd. The best criminals are the ones that keep their hands clean, after all.

But this one looks...human enough. That it doesn't warrant any reaction. At least not until spoken to. Just because he doesn't always adhere to it, it doesn't mean he doesn't have manners.]

Yeah. I guess so. Not everyday I'm snatched for a reality show. God, I hate reality tv shows. I mean, Survivor was cool for like, a second, but Big Brother? Who wants to marry a millionaire? The Real World? [And that last one is spoke in utter disdain.] God, they're awful.

So what's the premise of this one?

[lord_wizard]

[He had absorbed quite a bit about Earth culture over the years through osmosis or exposure, which was one of the only reasons he knew what television was in the first place, but the litany of titles flies more or less over his head and it shows for a brief moment in the blank stare FDR gets in return.]

I have no idea what you're talking about...[but he's not without the ability to pick up context]...but I believe the idea is to force people from many different worlds into close cooperation on these ships.

[bigvessel]

No? Not a big television watcher? [Not that it actually matters, honestly. But there's still some irony over the situation that he's not entirely over yet.]

So Real World then. Unless, people don't go crazy and start hacking up their crews, right?