marmoron: (action figure pose)
keet "QUIT ACCUSING ME" yeehawson ([personal profile] marmoron) wrote in [community profile] apocalypsehowcomm2021-08-13 04:40 pm

[LOG] closed

Who: Keith ([personal profile] marmoron) & Others!
When: Ongoing
Where: Everywhere
Summary: A catch-all log for where I post closed starters!
Warnings: Individual threads will be labelled with appropriate warnings.

ployboy: <user name=eyecons> (From up and above)

[personal profile] ployboy 2021-08-15 05:47 pm (UTC)(link)
[So here's the thing: this is frustrating. He'd just gotten in, accustomed at this point to only barely skirting back into the apartments before security gets all huffy and immobile regarding the stupid and baseless curfew. Sleep was hard to come by in B1-- it's just the way things had worked out for them. So when there's the smallest chance of a night's rest--

it sounds incredibly aggravating, doesn't it? Really petty, really selfish, so hilariously out of touch. But it's not. There's been a month of hearing night terrors through shared walls, of knowing bodies aren't always made for the trauma they're relentlessly put through-- and it's for nothing. There is nothing to show for the damn month it's already been.

Nothing showing or reflecting any sort of recognition or acknowledgement, not even in the eyes of the guards Tim had seen an hour prior. They still just sit there in their chairs, chatting lazily like there's no hellfire in the city ahead of them.

Someone's head is wrong.

Someone is wrong.

It's not him, Tim thinks fleetingly, eyes catching up to-- oh god he forgot the guy's name--]


Let's go.

[Standing around is feeding into that inferno of feeling wrong, fake, imagined, something. It's frustrating. But god damn if Tim doesn't know the sounds of death. That's real. It is real. He can't not break into a sprint. There's got to be something more worth doing up ahead, in the fires.]
ployboy: <user name=eyecons> (The rain came at the break of day)

[personal profile] ployboy 2021-08-24 02:45 am (UTC)(link)
[He hates fire. If he hadn't forced himself to move then, his body likely would have given him trouble. Started to tense too much, balk, or maybe he even would have frozen entirely. It's always hard to say, every new disaster brings old memories out to march on by. Entertain them and the disaster grows.

So Tim's body has done this thing where alarm and hurt and raw agony is seamlessly replaced by a gray sort of understanding to just keep moving. Gotham City made for good practice. He's sparing his companion a glance, mind learning that there's no smoke making the air thick and lodging the taste of tar in his throat

(he can smell the people dying as clearly as he can hear them; this is likely how Armstrong's-- no)]


No.

[Bludhaven, a literal crater in the ground. Over a hundred--

See, it needs to become routine and a person needs to able to absorb it all. And not be affected. Not in the field. There's heat and fire crackling like a joker laughing at the uselessness of a single drop of water.

There's a lot of screaming. There's the residential community of the coast city just up ahead. And there's no lights flickering on-off, no blown transformers.]


It didn't sound like an explosion, I didn't hear any artillery overhead.

[--what he had heard, prior to the wailing now assaulting his ears and making his ever nerve burn-- he can't-- remember. Wind knocked sufficiently out of his lungs, Tim's next words are barely a whisper.]

No one's running.
the_archivist: (Interruptions)

Re: > Jonathan Sims (@the_archivist) // August

[personal profile] the_archivist 2021-08-20 10:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[Jon blinks slowly at the man. It's an odd place to be standing, this awkward little corner, but Jon's not exactly a stranger to hiding in awkward little corners so he can't really complain.]

Hello? I don't think we've met.

[Not officially at least.]
the_archivist: (Spying)

[personal profile] the_archivist 2021-08-30 09:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[Jon is not good at stealth and acting in a way that isn't suspicious, although he likes to think that he's never quite been this suspicious.]

Jonathan Sims. Jon.

And yes, I'm from another reality. I think everyone staying here is.
the_archivist: (Suspicious)

[personal profile] the_archivist 2021-09-01 10:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[Jon is very aware of how awkward he seems. When was the last time he casually interacted with someone outside the little group of people who were his. He'd never been good with people and that has probably only got worse.]

Ah... probably planning the apocalypse?
the_archivist: (Deep Breath)

[personal profile] the_archivist 2021-09-06 10:16 pm (UTC)(link)
[Jon isn't laughing, and when questions he just shrugs.]

I'm not particularly trusting when it comes to organisations researching ancient supernatural forces of evil.
the_archivist: (This isn't good)

[personal profile] the_archivist 2021-09-07 11:46 pm (UTC)(link)
A veritable smorgasboard of fear, yes.

[Take a group of people who don't have familiarity with the entities, and send them into danger... well, it's one way to do it.]

Six? Dead or just... gone?
the_archivist: (Default)

[personal profile] the_archivist 2021-09-09 12:56 am (UTC)(link)
I agree. Optimism is generally unfounded in these sorts of things.

[Optimism had never helped him.]
the_archivist: (Head bowed)

[personal profile] the_archivist 2021-09-10 01:25 am (UTC)(link)
More than a few.

[He holds up his burned hand. The scars have faded since he got them, but they never healed, and they still look horrible. He never quite got full feeling back either.]

Just one example.
ployboy: <user name=eyecons> (We'll be just fine)

[personal profile] ployboy 2021-12-17 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
[God, he hasn't slept. His apartment doesn't do the 'sleep' thing. It's every bad habit rearing its ugly head again, and Tim can't bring himself to find fault in anything that gives him time. Time to work, time to hunt. Time to hide. To learn.

There's been a lot of... new. But ADI isn't the place to dwell on it, the electric current of the newness thrumming and singeing what's just under his skin. He's been taunted, but to let it go to his head will make him sloppy. ADI promises a solid block of hours of normalcy, even despite the budding urgency.

Because of the budding sense of urgency.

Tim clicks his monitor off, stands (he won't get caught posturing by a guy who looks like they're banking on remedial intimidation tactics), and he's shrugging on his coat when he turns to face Keith.]
Yeah, sure.

[Appropriately... wary, but warm. Polite.

Office politics, right? Wayne Enterprises, eat your heart out.]
What's up?
ployboy: <user name=eyecons> (Wipe the stardust from your eyes)

[personal profile] ployboy 2021-12-19 06:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[If he were feeling exceptionally catty, he'd be wondering what it is that the worm dragged in. Keith looks like hell, now that Tim's eye level with the guy.

He has the grace to not dwell on the sympathy of a few-- what, a few lost street brawls? Keith's a careful guy; there's no way he went looking for trouble, so who has has trouble with Keith? Enough to want to strangle him and want to break his wrist?

Again: totally not dwelling on that.

Tim's majority shareholder of a multi-billion dollar corporation; does this kid really think he's not used to hearing things he already knows? He listens patiently enough.]
I'm aware. [The source code of the worm game? Hello, he works I.T. too. He knows. It's tricky, though, to know what only Tim Drake should. Lucky that he's got a lifetime of practice.

He furrows his brows, pinches them together just slightly. Says,]
It's Tim. [His name. But Bruce isn't the only Bat who can play the part of a dumbass-] The "J" stands for Jackson. I'm no closer to figuring out who that pseudonym belongs to than anybody else here.
Edited 2021-12-19 18:27 (UTC)
ployboy: <user name=eyecons> (Default)

[personal profile] ployboy 2022-02-13 07:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[It gets worse. Tim doesn't see it getting any better. The flinch at sudden movement isn't over the top, it's not meant to draw any more attention to the scuffle brewing in the middle of the office. Tired aides and goffers stare longer than they should before (intelligently) bowing out of sight.

The wall triggers that need to escape- it's something hard and unfeeling and with how he's poised it uncomfortably touches on his shoulder blades. Tim makes to pull back, a grimace on his lips.]


Flirt with-- you mean the Bitmoji--?

[How Brucie Wayne hasn't gotten a bullet through his thick skull is a million dollar question for another day. There's no avatar hanging these overt threats over their heads that they can't smoke out. There isn't. But more to the point,

and said through grit teeth that may or may not be bracing for an actual hit,]
Let's cool off, get some fresh air.

[-is this a Zero Tolerance workplace?]