the texting picture prompt meme.

[acascuse]

THE TEXTING PICTURE PROMPT MEME A picture says more than a thousand words... You're in the middle of something, maybe not something important (though, who can say, maybe it was), but you were in the middle of this maybe unimportant thing anyway and it interrupts you, when your phone beeps and a message ticks in. It's a picture. Someone took a picture and sent it your way. Does it make you happy? Curious? Do you want to know more? If yes, text them back! Inquire! Tell them what the picture makes you think about, how it makes you feel. And on that note, converse! How to play: 1. Top-level with your character. Include prefs and the like, if you wish. 2. Others now leave a comment with a picture their character has sent to yours. 3. Have your character respond with a text, then go tag around as you wish. 4. They text back, you text back, everyone texts like their lives depended on it. 5. Be entertained!

Comments

[wheatcake]

From: Peter Parker
To: TalosReplyAll
Cc:
Subject: anybody out there??

i was in psychotronics when an alarm went off and i think i hear screaming?
the electricity went off in some places
i can't find anybody
please reply with your location if youre reading this!

[2032]

From: Morgan Yu
To: Peter Parker
Cc:
Subject: RE: anybody out there??

It's not safe in Psychotronics. It's not safe anywhere right now but especially not there. Are you trapped?

[wheatcake]

From: Peter Parker
To: Morgan Yu
Cc:
Subject: RE: RE: anybody out there??

omg morgan!
i'm glad you're ok
or more ok than you could be considering uh everything being on fire
sometimes literally
but i'm fine don't worry!
i locked myself in a locker and i have one of the 2.0 gloos and plenty of ammo
i'm waiting for something to come by so i can shoot it and get out of here

p²

[2032]

From: Morgan Yu
To: Peter Parker
Cc:
Subject: RE: RE: RE: anybody out there??

Is anyone else with you? Do you have any idea what's going on? How long have you been down there?

[wheatcake]

From: Peter Parker
To: Morgan Yu
Cc:
Subject: RE: RE: RE: anybody out there??

in order,
1. nope just me and my new best friends, the homicidal aliens. it feel like theyre having a bad a day as i am. i also have a gun that shoots real good i think i'm gonna name it frank. so its just me, frank, and the alien sex party happening down the hall. at least thats what i hope theyre doing. theres a lot of banging
2. nope 2.0, but it involves a lot of fire and corpses. my company insurance covers trauma therapy y/n
3. judging from how i havent had to make a break for the bathrooms yet or find a bucket, its only a few hours 😇

followup question: if u save me do i have to be bridal carried out or can i just cling to your leg leia style

[2032]

From: Morgan Yu
To: Peter Parker
Cc:
Subject: RE: RE: RE: anybody out there??

...At this point I honestly can't tell if you're traumatized or if this is normal for you. Don't fuck around with those things at all because they'll kill you if they get half a chance and then there will just be more of them to deal with.

Do you know where in Psychotronics you are? I'm going to come get you.

[wheatcake]

From: Peter Parker
To: Morgan Yu
Cc:
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: anybody out there??

youre grumpy today :(

im sending yu my location

[ha ha yu... get it... anyway he's in a janitorial closet.]

[2032]

The worst part of all of this is...well, okay, there is no worst part, it's all the worst part, done up in a neat little inescapable bow. But no, that's not true, either, is it? Because as bad as all of this is it would be infinitely more tenable with the entirety of his faculties at hand. It's the not knowing that's the biggest problem, and sure maybe the him from before had believed the voice he would trust most coming out in a fugue state would be his own, but even that reeks of collusion. It's too perfect. Sure, the photo in "his" office looks like him, but who's to say that's any more real than any other narrative?

He can't think about it right now. Later, maybe, but not now.

Of all the places Peter could be, it had to be Psychotronics. He doesn't know fuck all about it from the rest of the station at this point, but the warnings about its danger hadn't fallen on deaf ears, and the first trip through had been as short and sweet as possible. Easy to miss a closet with a wayward TranStar employee holed up in it, for better or for worse. The wrench in his hand doesn't feel like quite as much of a joke this time.

He doesn't knock so much as drag his knuckles against the closet door, watching over his shoulder on the off chance one of the Typhon is lingering closer than he thinks. "Peter Parker?" Low, hushed, trying for some hint of familiarity he assumes is there normally. "It's Morgan, let me in."

[wheatcake]

To be fair, Peter was knocked unconscious after an explosion, and has kind of been taking a nap in a corner for a while. He's pretty sure he has a concussion. He's definitely got the makings of a goose egg on his temple. There's dust and grime on his coat, his hands are dirty, and he wishes he could say that's from the chaos, but honestly, he always looks kind of messy. Usually it's just motor grease and indelicate use of sharpies, now there's a bit of soot, but that's still not far from the norm.

He woke up, sent out some emails, rearranged the closet so it'd be tactically advantageous, and waited. Which is why Morgan will find him ducking behind a pile of cleaning equiptment, gloo gun at the ready. His "Mach II" models are smaller and sleeker, and he was working on a way to make the gloo cartridges have more tensile strength and less delicacy before everything went to shit. If they could just get back to his lab...

But then there's Morgan, and Peter doesn't shoot him in the face! It's a near thing, though. He opens the door and puts the safety back on his (gloo...) gun. Look, gun safety is important regardless! It's good muscle memory.

"I don't think the mimics talk good, so you're in, bud," he says, and welcomes Morgan inside. Though there's not... much there. It's just a closet. "I was making a castle out of cleaning supplies, but I only took structural engineering, not architectural aesthetics; what do you think?"

[2032]

There's a history here he's lost. Peter speaks with the sort of familiarity that strangers don't have, but this could just as easily be the first time they've met and Morgan wouldn't know the difference. He knows he's somebody—with that office and the time to create the things he has (unless someone has built an extensively elaborate set around them)—but to understand the nuances of things beyond that is lost on him now.

The closest is exactly what Peter's sold it as and cramped enough that it almost feels cozy, especially compared to the expanse of the lobby and the monsters he knows are lurking near the ceiling. Hell, there's relief in finding someone who's not dead or lost or actively trying to get him killed, even if he doesn't know who Peter is anymore.

"How do you know it's all still cleaning supplies?" Maybe not the most helpful question given the circumstances, but it's a safe bet compared to other options. He should really just come clean and tell Peter the truth, shouldn't he? But he needs Peter to trust him if he's going to get him out of this stupid closet still alive, and he's not sure a stranger wearing a friend's face is going to be much help.

[wheatcake]

It's a fair question. Peter gives Morgan the usual cocky expression (it's only slightly a parody of Morgan's own frequent expression) and displays his handiwork. "Everything the light touches?" From that... dingy flickering bulb... "Has a tick mark. I go through and check every half hour. Not that I've opened the door before now."

He takes out his chalk pencil and, if he isn't stopped, draws a tick mark on Morgan's uniform.

[2032]

The familiarity in Peter's movement is enough to stop him short. Have they done this before? Are they at a level where unprompted touch is commonplace? Is it more, is it less, is it...fuck, he doesn't know what it is and it's impossible to guess. He does his best to not let the surprise register on his face, staring down at the new mark like it might just outright announce how wrong everything has gone on his behalf.

"My office," he says in a faintly thinner voice with a glance back up at Peter, "seems to be safe. For now. Until we can figure out what to do." Blow it up, destroy everything including them, but—is it up to Morgan to condemn the people still alive? Or are they all already condemned without his say in the matter? "But getting there isn't easy."

[wheatcake]

Peter catches Morgan's awkwardness, but Morgan is... generally awkward, when he's not being too suave for his own good. They're in a stressful situation. Peter doesn't think much of it.

"Aye, aye, captain." He gives a little salute. "Doing impossible and inadvisable things is in my contract. Or at least my resume, at this point..." He gives a little sigh, and pockets the extra GLOO canisters. "I just wish I'd made more 2.0's before this happened. Hindsight's 20-20, right? Especially with... aliens."

Peter stares at the door. "These are aliens, right? Not somebody's pet project gone horrifically wrong? If they are the second thing, you're never allowed to give me trouble for lab explosions ever again. That's also in my contract."

[2032]

Morgan's not entirely sure what they are, if he's honest. Old him definitely knew, but odds are that Peter's got a better understanding of things at this point. January's not much help on the matter and Alex is as cryptically useless as possible, it seems, holed up somewhere and intent on staying that way until the danger has passed. So...aliens, sure. Judging by Psychotronics alone they're a good mix of both options, like maybe if they'd been left alone in the first place none of this would have happened. But Peter's right, hindsight's not on their side in this situation either.

Something about Peter's levity is almost a relief, like maybe things aren't quite as bad as they could be if there's still something to joke about. But...most of the station is dead already and Morgan's memory has been wiped and he's not sure how much worse it could actually get, all things considered. "We're gonna have to go over your contract. After." If they live. If a contract matters at all anymore.

"There's a good chance you're dead the moment one of those things so much as notices you, so we're going to go as slowly and quietly as possible and you're going to do exactly what I tell you. Understood?"

[wheatcake]

Peter snorts. "Exactly. I'm pretty sure defending against a hostile takeover by the mysterious whatever isn't in it. Going above and beyond the call of duty... sounds like raise territory to me." He natters while gathering his things, stuffing his labcoat with extra GLOO canisters, some with alternate packaging (P2 M2 is written on the side in sharpie), and the proliferation of candy bars he was living off before now.

When he's ready, he nods at Morgan, some of his brevity falling to the side. It's not gone, he hasn't lost it. He's as cheerful as ever. He just gets a bit more serious, even if it doesn't come with the glum Apocalypse Now attitude people seem to expect. He squares his shoulders and nods, slowly. There's a keen intelligence in his eye, when he isn't obfuscating it with stupid jokes.

"Yessir," he says. "I dunno when you became the expert in intergalactic monster hunting, but I'll take it on faith."

[2032]

Another day, another time and he might roll his eyes in response. Another him might, maybe. But this is something else, something bigger than bad jokes and wry retorts: this is their lives. This is the difference between holding onto whatever spark it is that makes them them and not succumbing to the creatures going bump in the night. This is life or death, whether they want it or not. Peter has to understand that, right?

Right?

It's too much to assume that he doesn't. Neither of them will survive if that's the case.

Is this normal for him? For them? More questions he has to shove aside if Peter's going to trust him long enough to get back to his office. "I'm serious." His voice leaves no room for argument. His eyes are dark as he searches Peter's face for the faintest hint of something familiar to latch onto, some sort of promise that this isn't some huge cosmic joke. He squares off to him, almost too close in his space just to make his point explicitly clear. "If it was safe to leave you here, I would, because we might die trying to get out. But it's not so I can't and I need you to take this seriously."