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Apr. 13th, 2016 10:26 am
forsker: (Untitled-16 copy)
[personal profile] forsker
I need a few people who can dedicate about three hours of their time daily and are interested in learning anything from basic data analysis to mechanical engineering to anything related to the cosmic sciences.

In short: if you’re good with your hands or good at recognizing patterns and you’d like to put those skills to use, we can help each other.

And obviously you’re more than welcome to work more than that and are exempt from working during events.

Thank you.

-Dr Jane Foster
iambaymax: (i am not fast)
[personal profile] iambaymax
[CLICK. For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of vinyl rubbing against vinyl. Then, very slowly, a large, white, marshmallow-like form moves in front of the camera.]

Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion. I am programmed to assess your healthcare needs. How may I be of assistance?

[Pause. Turns head.]

My sensor is detecting high levels of stress and anxiety.

[Shuffles off-screen in tiny, squeaky steps. Pause. Thud.]

Oh, no.

[Shuffles back on-screen.]

My non-threatening, huggable design prevents me from opening the door. I am unable to provide medical assistance in my current location. When will the door open?

[Shuffles offscreen again. Pause. Thud.]

Oh, no.
littledhampir: ♫ I want to smash you helpless down on the floor, smash you until you're not here anymore. (Go walk off a cliff.)
[personal profile] littledhampir
[With her dry, sarcastic tone it's hard to imagine that the brunette on screen was in a state of mild panic not all that long ago. Now she has an audience however? Rose stands taller. Shoulders pushed back. A scowl twisting her features that's made either more or less intimidating by the black eye that darkens her right eye and cheek. The reddish, purple splotches a telltale sign of an injury that has happened a few days earlier.]

So I'm... Rose? [She offers a tight smile that looks more like a grimace.] You all know this is like, illegal, right? [Eyes narrowing.] I mean I know there's rules - [She does mean Laws, yes.] About taking people across state lines so... I'm kinda thinking that this... would come under that, and then some.

[The forced calm isn't at all natural but then, neither is this and she isn't about to tell a bunch of strangers that she's anything but in control right now.]

If a person were looking for somebody they could... [One hand rises into the shot to punctuate her words with 'air quotes'.] "Ask nicely", about getting a refund on whatever ticket landed them here? Who would they need to talk to? [Eyes narrowing.

Subtle was never really one of her strong suits.]


Mar. 8th, 2016 09:01 pm
1908: (pic#9863538)
[personal profile] 1908
[ Adaline wakes up slowly with the scent of vanilla, almond and parchment teasing at her senses. Her limbs feel heavy as lead, as if a hundred years of exhaustion has settled into her bones overnight. Unable to move properly right away, she stays there as she lets her the grogginess fade and her consciousness slowly come back into focus. Logic dictates she's fallen asleep at work again, lost in the 70,000 cubic feet of original records, books and news reels that the National Archives boasts. It wouldn't be the first time.

She yawns, jaw crackingly so as she pushes herself to sit up, her name badge still hanging loosely around her neck (still at work, then), proudly proclaiming her name as Jennifer Larson. It clicks gently against her belt, and Adaline looks down, taking it between her fingers and tapping the plastic with a soft snort before stretching, wincing as her bones crack down the length of her spine.

Just because you're ageless doesn't mean you don't ache like a 107 year old, she thinks off-handedly. Everything aches right now, like she's been in this position all night as opposed to a few hours. Normally, one of her coworkers will gently shake her awake and tease her for her inability to keep track of time. Poor Reese, she thinks as she finally stands and rubs her eyes, humming quietly under her breath as bones pop back into place after sleeping so long in a chair. He must be starving.

It's only once she's aware of her surroundings, once she clears the sleep from her eyes and takes a good look around that she realizes this is decidedly not the Archives. Her brow pinches between her eyes as panic flutters, but Adaline stays calm, composed. She's in a library, that much is clear, and danger does not seem to be imminent, but the threat is always there, as it seems to be no matter where Adaline Bowman goes.

A strange weight in her pocket merits a check, and it's not her cell, but a strange little device that looks as if it could be some sort of device. Which, of course, warrants further investigation and examination. ]


[ She's quiet, voice tentative. She's comfortable at least, surrounded by books, one leg delicately crossed over the other as she speaks into the device, not quite knowing what else to do.

It has a record function - broadcast, whatever you have it. So, that's what she's using. ]

Is anyone there?

[ Oh God she feels literally crazy, talking into a palm pilot or whatever the hell this thing is. So crazy, she speaks it aloud. ]

I'm going mad.

( video )

Mar. 8th, 2016 06:31 pm
shitloaf: (003)
[personal profile] shitloaf
[ The feed eventually shutters to life and it's pointing at the ceiling. It's a mostly nondescript ceiling, please enjoy it for being pleasantly neutral. Because it's going to be ruined in less than ten seconds.

Carver's face pops into the view and he stares at the device like it's some unholy abomination that just tinkled on his favorite shirt. It's clear he's in a terrible sort of mood—but when is he not?—by the harsh line of his brows and the curl of his mouth. While he doesn't have his full plate armor on, he still wears the blue and silver of the Grey Wardens. ]

So, apparently this sodding thing is supposed to let me talk to other people. [ Here he is. Doing just that. ] I'm—

[ He stops, sighs through his nose then rubs the side of his head. Does he introduce himself? Maybe. Ugh. ]

My name is Carver Hawke and I have a request and don't really know where to start. I'm looking for books. [ The harsh lines of his expression soften to the slightest degree for a brief moment. ] Easy ones. Ones that kids can read. Don't know what is considered that here, so.

[ He lifts a shoulder in a shrug as if that will explain the rest of the request so he doesn't need to. Basically, he needs pointing in the right direction with titles and maybe even large print.

Off-screen there is a small scuffling noise and it's followed soon by a little yappy sort of bark. There's a fun, bright usage of several even more fun curses before Carver disappears for a second. The video shakes as he picks up the device to hold at arms length. In his other hand is this abomination of a dog. It wriggles in his hand and that only seems to irritate him further. ]

And what in the Maker's name is this bloody thing? It's like some horrible Orlesian dog some sod would wear on their hat. What good are these wardrobes if this is what I get instead of a mabari?

[ The puppy happily licks Carver's nose and he grunts in disgust before putting it down and returning to the device. It seems he wants to say something more, but he isn't sure how. Clearly annoyed—and mostly with himself—he frowns all over again then just shuts the feed off. ]


Mar. 7th, 2016 06:58 pm
scowls: (080)
[personal profile] scowls
[ For a few moments, all that’s visible in the slightly shaky view is an exciting expanse of bland-colored carpet. A light scratching sound is audible in time with the tilting of the image, as though the material that covers the device is moving against something unyielding and metallic. To someone who’s seen this sort of thing before, it’s indicative of someone examining the device.

A moment later, the image blurs and the boring carpet is replaced by large green eyes, shaggy white hair, thick black eyebrows, a scowling mouth, and a chin marred by white lines. ]

Hn. [ It’s a derisive snort, though the word that follows is even more so, heavily laden with disgust. ] Magic.

[ The image spins again, resolving a few dizzying seconds later to a crooked view of a sparsely furnished room. It’s the sort of room that looks to have never yet been lived in, the furniture of the most generic sort. Prowling near the far wall is the owner of that too-close face.

He’s wearing spiky armor, sharply pointed gauntlets, and a conspicuous lack of shoes. Pointed ears poke out of his hair and when he turns to unlimber a large greatsword from his back, more of the white lines are visible on his skin where it shows through gapes in his armor. As is probably apparent, he has no idea that he’s being recorded and continues to examine the room with wary unease.

The video will continue for quite some time, documenting a positively riveting video of an over-armored elf doing nothing but poking around a room, until he’s alerted to the fact that the device is both active and broadcasting his business to others.

Someone, quite clearly, does not know how to use the communication device properly. ]


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