wriggedywrecked: (grandpa needs his booze morty)
[personal profile] wriggedywrecked
[Rick is on the beach, but he's not exactly dressed in beachware. He's just wearing his usual labcoat, and the only new addition seems to be the big, industrial-style earmuffs hanging around his neck. There's also some kind of metal structure behind him that looks exactly like a missile launchpad.]

Okay, so I-I'm only giving this warning once. Gonna be ordnance testing for th-the next two hours out on the beach, so d-don't come out here without at least some kinda ear protection. And don't f-f-freak out if you hear a lot of explosions. Cause there's gonna be explosions. I don't have to warn you dumbfucks. Th-This is a courtesy.

[Then, in full view of the camera, he takes a swig from his hip flask. Rick Sanchez is all about weapon safety.]

Rick out.

[And indeed, for the next two hours there's a lot of high-pitched whistling and thunderous explosions from the direction of the beach. Hope you weren't planning a beach party! Feel free to come try to stop him or yell or something.]

[Voice]

May. 10th, 2017 11:14 pm
hypoxic: } Pretentious lyrics: °C-ute - "Grieving Heaven" (Default)
[personal profile] hypoxic
[The Astrophysics lab is a bit of a mess at the moment, covered in alarming mechanisms that aren't fully installed yet. To keep people from jumping to conclusions, Fitz is opting for an audio-only message today.]

Apologies for the interruption. I just wanted to give ample notice that the lab will be performing some testing on this coming Friday. Please be advised that the fourth floor might be excessively noisy during the proceedings. We won't be working with anything particularly dangerous, so please don't be alarmed by anything you hear.

We're quite sorry for any inconveniences this might cause. It might be a good day to stay outside to avoid the noise pollution.

Thank you for your time.
poppycock: (#11005898)
[personal profile] poppycock
[ those soft squelching sounds, insistent and crying meows, and thumps you hear are accompanied by flashes of color and white fur. this is iskra, a cat, being absolutely impossible and absolutely adorable to her sometimes master (or perhaps more aptly put, subject) klaus mikaelson.

both of which the lucky audience of wonderland gets to see, quite candidly, in a moment.
] Iskra. [ klaus' admonishment is spoken in a gruff undertone but the affection is obvious; it's not the first nor does he expect the last time his afternoon companion will demand more attention than she's due. (but that doesn't mean he won't give it to her.)

he pulls the cat against his chest, his fingers spotted just some with paint. there are speckles of color on iskra as well, and her paws, one of which she lifts to nudge at klaus' chin, leaving behind a blue spot. he blinks but is nonetheless charmed by her familiar behavior despite himself. then, not to be outdone, she reaches to do the same to the canvas.

with a soft tsk of more admonishment, klaus teases her.
] A modernist, are we? A pointillist?

[ it's only then the movement of the recording video on his phone catches klaus' attention. ] Bloody— [ the "hell" bit is cut off, mostly because iskra leaps from klaus' arms to the paw the phone now too.

fin.
]
therapize: maxicons @ insanejournal (37)
[personal profile] therapize
[This isn’t Cami’s first time preparing to advertise the therapy office, and some of the steps are pretty routine by now. She’s got the space neat and ready, her mirrors already broken and covered up so there would be no unwelcome interruptions from that end. She props up the phone nearby, so it can capture whatever spiel she’s about to offer to the citizens of Wonderland. The last part is figuring out just what to say, which she hasn’t quite managed yet. Cami’s plan is to give herself a bit of time, to piece together the words, and then start the video when she’s all set.

Her phone has other plans—or, you know. It would if it weren’t an inanimate object. While she means to record, Cami’s intention isn’t to broadcast. But she does, so the mansion can now watch as she paces slowly around the room with arms crossed over her chest, seemingly talking to herself.]


I think everyone would agree that the last event was incredibly difficult. [Who would say otherwise, given the constant risk of suffocation, the odd repetitions of time, the mass of jumbled and confused posts filling the network?] Unfortunately, it’s not going to be the last one that’s hard to bear. Many of the events here put us through terrible things, circumstances that no one should have to face—

So everyone feel worse about it, so you can start to feel better! [She shakes her head at herself as she realizes how that sounds. Toeing the line of truth without being blunt isn’t exactly the easiest thing to do, guys.] Okay, O’Connell. One more time, without making everyone more depressed.

[There’s silence again, Cami mulling over a better introduction. After a few minutes (and a few passes in front of the couch), she nods, bracing herself as she tries again.]

I think after the event we all just went through, everyone would agree that this world is far from a perfect place. But it doesn’t have to be perfect to still be…good. [She smiles, seemingly more satisfied with the opening.] While most of us—no. While many people are understandably eager to go home, the way things stand right now, that’s currently out of our control.

[Her pacing stops, though she smiles still. What comes next is something she’s known for a long time, but only recently truly understood.]

All we can do is try and find a way to live here in the meantime.

[She tucks her hair back behind her ear, weighing the words she’s just said. On the whole, much better than her first attempt, and she resumes walking and thinking aloud.]

And for some people, therapy can be beneficial towards doing that. It isn’t the easiest step to take; a lot of people think going to therapy means something’s wrong with them, that they aren’t good enough somehow. But as hard as it is to admit you need help—might need help—once you do…

[Her voice trails off again. Idly, Cami’s hand reaches up to toy with the pendant she’s taken to wearing as of late: a small cross made of diamonds.

God, the last few months were hard ones.]


Once you do, you’d be amazed how much better things can get.

[But she knows not to say that for real. Her personal experience aside, Cami is well aware that therapy isn’t a magic fix-it button or an immediate cure all. So she’s quick to shake her head, mentally striking that line from her upcoming speech.]

Okay, so less miracle worker at the end, but that wasn’t bad. [Dropping down on the couch, Cami reaches for the phone, meaning to review what she’s just put together, make her changes, practice once more and then broadcast for real.

As such, Wonderland gets a pretty good view of her expression when she realizes that she’s already been sending her message out over the network.]


Is this…oh God. [She groans, resting her free hand against her now reddening face.] It’s already on the network. Well, hi there, Wonderland. Welcome to this behind the scenes look at the therapist in residence embarrassing herself.

[Right. Still recording, Cami. Now is not to die of mortification.]

So obviously that was all supposed to just be practice, but it’s also true. And there is a therapist office on the sixth floor, room twenty if anyone is interested in talking.

[She sighs, but at least the sound ends with a soft laugh. What else can she do at this point?]

And I promise I’ll have the phone put away so this doesn’t happen to you.



{{ooc: Also open to action if you’d prefer to have your character just show up. Cami’s there all day.}}
quickgenius: (stubborn)
[personal profile] quickgenius
[FORWARD-DATED TO AFTER THE WATERS HAVE RECEDED AND THE DEAD ARE NO LONGER DEAD. Or undead as the case may be.

Waking up, soaking wet and crumpled in the hallway where she’d drowned, the memory of water filling her lungs, panic and fear making it all worse, sharp and jagged in her head, Jesse had gone back to her room, gone somewhere safe and hers, only to find that it was too quiet and slipped into her lab instead. But when she’d gone to write something down, to start work on another project... it had been nonsensical, a mishmash of words with no rhyme or reason. And her stomach had twisted with worry. Which hasn’t gone away.

Because she can’t talk. Can’t write. It’s all fine in her head, but the moment she tries to communicate, to SAY something, or write something, it goes all sideways. If she can manage words at all.

And it’s gotten worse, because something is going on. The flooding is gone but time is repeating. Still repeating, although she’d been more focused on trying to survive during the flooding to pay it much mind, then. Little hops backward in time, reliving the past couple of hours.

When the video feed comes on, she’s in her lab, hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing an oversized S.T.A.R Labs sweatshirt. Behind her is a clearboard covered in nonsensical writing that WAS her attempt to try and figure out what was happening scientifically. Something’s wrong. We’re repeating time.]


Sarcastic warning. Water re-referencing thermometer.

[Damn it. She huffs a frustrated breath. Brow furrowed as she focuses, trying her best to get what she’s thinking, what she WANTS to say, to be the actual words she’s saying.]

The cl-clock isn’t always right.

[Closer, but still not what she’s actually trying to SAY. Frustrated and angry at herself, she spins and sends some of the contents of one of the tables in her lab flying. Papers. Pens. Tools. A few odds and ends. A very familiar sight to a few people in Wonderland, but usually it’s a different Wells doing it.]
hypoxic: (having just one dream)
[personal profile] hypoxic
[It's a softspoken man on the network tonight, one presently struggling to cope with a world of disappointment and anxiety. There's some stammering at the start of the message, but as he collects himself enough to share information, his cadence relaxes and grows more confident. This isn't about him right now. It's about everyone else.]


Pardon me -- if I could have everyone's attention for a moment? I'm sure we've all gotten a glimpse of what's gone on. I've some reason to believe that this might be a particular incident related to -- well -- that's not important. But I'd like to urge everyone to be mindful of the level of air presently available to you. As long as the number of available rooms continues to be infinite, it ought to be possible to make it through without incident as long as we stay in motion as necessary, provided that the doors continue to resist the rules of water pressure upon opening. I've done some calculations using what we know of the average unclaimed room. I believe that humans ought to be able to sustain themselves without incident for about eight hours without incident, though this is most likely variable for those of you with alternative physiologies. With that in mind, we may wish to consider that longterm planning might be an element to our survival. We may have to make efforts to organize our activities and movements to ensure we can all stay prepared for the week ahead of us.

[He pauses to take a breath, squeezing his fingers into his palm before continuing.]

Please be aware that since the oxygen-to-square-footage ratio provided is a rough estimate that may be impacted by people collecting together in groups, vigilance will also be important when it comes to recognizing the early signs of oxygen deprivation. If you notice an increase in heart rate or shortness of breath, please consider setting yourself into motion sooner rather than later. The same applies if you're with others and notice dilation of the pupils, or that they've started to display visible motor impairment.

I also hope that we can utilize the network to communicate distress when needed. I'll be in touch with a few of you soon with regards to some plans for relief and rescue.

Let's see if we can't all make it out of this in one piece, yeah?


Text to Peter Parker )

Text to Philip )

Text to Steve Rogers )

[OOC: I think I'm also going to use this as Fitz's catch-all for the event this time around, so feel free to throw action-sized stuff in here too if we've discussed anything that ought to take place later on.]
nextfate: (★ 28)
[personal profile] nextfate
t e x t
[ Jane doesn't want to potentially upset anyone, not when she knows there are so many people in Wonderland who are eager to go home, or don't want to be stuck here while slowly losing their memories. She's one of them. That's why she's anonymous. But she still wonders something, and it's been coming up a lot more. The only way to know if other people wonder the same things is to ask, right? ]

I've been wondering: people get upset about being here for a long time and losing all of their memories of home, eventually. Does anyone know exactly how long that takes?

Also, is there a specific reason why it matters?

(Other than the big thing, losing yourself, which I get is a huge deal.) But, in theory, even if you forget everything while you're here, as soon as you're home, you remember again. Who you are, where you're from. It all comes back and then it's Wonderland and all the people here you've connected with that you forget.

Right?

I guess I was just wondering if people are as passionate about the ones who would be stuck here in their wake, as they are about the people they miss at home that don't even know they're gone. I can tell you I don't know where I fall half the time.


[ No one's particularly missing her at home, so. ]

a c t i o n

[ It never feels like there's a specific place Jane wants to go in Wonderland when she's restless. Most of the time she finds herself wandering if she has no tattoo appointments, or tucked away somewhere sketching. For today, there's a little bit of browsing in the library (she picks up classic novels this time around plus two cookbooks) before she tucks herself in the main entrance of the mansion with her sketchbook after finding a comfortable, oversized chair. She'd thought to sketch the grand doors and the view from the windows, but instead, her mind has something else in store. The memory she has is fuzzy, but she's sure the person she's sketching is her brother. He has a scar, the same as the boy she remembered months and months ago, and the same as the man in the photo she received in her stocking. It gives her hope that she has a family out there somewhere, even if she doesn't know his name.

When she's done, she goes to the dining room and pulls out one of the cookbooks, flipping to random pages with food that seems worth trying. As she notes what looks good, the dishes appear in front of her until she has a full meal with ample portion sizes. Which prompts a (non-anon this time) text once again, hours apart from her original message with an image attached: ]


Anyone wanna come help me eat this food? Dining room. BYO fork.

text.

Jan. 19th, 2017 11:21 am
forsker: (Untitled-3 copy)
[personal profile] forsker
has anyone ever attempted to shut down travel by dimensional tear or portal or what might be referred to as some meta-physical means within wonderland or without it?

degree of success is unimportant-- i'm looking for anything pertaining to travel into wonderland, out of it, within it, to the mirror side, etc.

data is good, personal accounts are better. if you've gone to the mirror side (during a time where not everyone was invited over en masse) and are willing to offer information about your experience, that could be helpful as well.
thisismadfreaky: (Go on)
[personal profile] thisismadfreaky
[How many days has this been going on, again? He isn't even sure any more. He sleeps, but it's not restful because he wakes up in another version of Wonderland every time and he's awake the whole time there and-- ay dios mio, everything's a mess. He's exhausted and has taken to mainlining coffee when he's awake just to attempt to function.

And misery loves company, right?]


Does anybody else feel like time and sleep have both lost all meaning by now? Because I'm not sure I know what either of them are any more. This has to end sometime, doesn't it? Come be miserably awake with me, Wonderland. At least if we're talking, we aren't sleeping and at least it's on our own terms. Or something. I don't know, I'm tired, come keep me virtual company.

[ooc; just so y'all know, if I make public posts, everyone feel free to threadjack everywhere to everyone all the time. I love that shit. Blow it up. I welcome it.]
thisismadfreaky: (R U Sure tho)
[personal profile] thisismadfreaky
[Cisco had gotten the basic run down of crazy that is being dragged to Wonderland from Jesse already, so he's calmer than he could have been. A part of him is still in awe of the whole place. Literal living piece of his childhood, here. How is a person even supposed to process that? He's not sure. But Wonderland is probably better than all the crazy that was waiting for him back home, so he'll take it.

When the feed clicks on, Cisco gives an awkward wave in the general direction of his invisible audience.]
Greetings, Wonderlandians! Is that right? I don't know. [He shakes his head.] Anyway! Hi. I'm Cisco and I have the most important question for your right now. Seriously, my level of alert every morning when I get up hinges on your answer, here.

Where's the best place for coffee around here?

Also, headcount of my people is a go. Where you at, guys? Jesse told me you're here.

[ text ]

Sep. 11th, 2016 12:20 am
hypoxic: (we all get lost sometimes)
[personal profile] hypoxic
[Almost exactly a day after Darcy's note mentioning another murder, there's another brief text. Fitz doesn't bother leaving identifiers; it'll post with his name attached, he reasons. He considers filtering it to pertinent parties only, but thinking about who he needs to contact and what their projects were makes him queasy. This is faster.]

My apologies.
I've taken on projects for many of you who needed mechanical engineering done.
Unfortunately, there's been an incident. A substantial amount of materials were lost.
Damages have not yet been calculated. But assume there will be delays on any project ETAs previously submitted.

Your patience is appreciated.


[That's all there is to the message. It's all he can handle. Replies are slow from his end, and will be exclusively in text.]
bravejemma: (just about to break)
[personal profile] bravejemma
[When the video turns on, it's a downward view of whoever is holding the device. Shoes on the path, dirty and scuffed, the sound of gentle breeze blowing.]

Oh, what the -- I never, what sort of phone these days doesn't have a front facing camera...

[Unless it's not a phone? She doesn't remember seeing the familiar phone icon, but she could definitely record...]

Oh, I see, there we are.

[At least it's a decent interface -- intuitive and easy to use. One flick on the screen, and the camera shows Jemma -- still a little dirty, tired, and worn down, but determined.]

I'm not sure what this device is or to whom I may be speaking, but my name is Jemma Simmons. I'm an agent of SHIELD, and was until recently on an alien planet. My team managed to retrieve me, in particular -- in particular, my... Leo Fitz. We left by the portal he entered, and I wound up here.

[She pauses, swallowing. She hopes she is showing herself to be calm, but feels like it might all be written on her face. And to someone especially perceptive, it may be.]

I'm assuming -- hoping -- that he was dropped elsewhere, and that one of you might know where he is, or he might have the same access to this... network that I have.

I suppose I'll... I'll be waiting to hear. One way or another.

video;

Aug. 10th, 2016 08:48 am
agentxthirteen: (13: what are we doing here?)
[personal profile] agentxthirteen
[ Sharon appears on screen, but it isn't Sharon as she looked before. No, she doesn't appear noticeably older than before, but she seems more relaxed, more confident. More capable, maybe. Although most people might only notice that her hair is straighter.

She leans toward the camera, her lips spreading slightly into a small, knowing grin. ]
So to everyone who told me things about home and decided to leave out a rather large personal detail, very funny. You know who you are. [ Steve, Wilson, Barnes. She especially means you. She doesn't think Wanda knows about the kiss, so Wanda gets a pass.

She leans back, her hands absently shuffling her notes and setting them aside. Her grin widens, though it lacks the confidence of her smaller grin. ]


To them and everyone else, it seems I've been out of the loop for... I'm guessing a week? What have I missed?

[ Nothing big, she hopes. Please tell her there wasn't more brainwashing, and that everyone she knows survived her absence just fine and are all accounted for. ]
radiopalkiller: (to telling only lies)
[personal profile] radiopalkiller
[ Philip sits at his desk. He briefly considers setting the scene, tidying up the stack of papers, or-- What's the point? It's his office. Nobody is going to see him. But all of Genosha is about to hear him.

He clears his throat.

And rolls his eyes at the private joke, because even like that it's getting old.
]

Due to the series of recent events I'm forced to remind all fellow mutants to travel carefully, especially near the Ridgeback Mountains region. Do not travel alone. Do not underestimate what their misguided rebellion is capable of. And remember to listen to Her Majesty's daily broadcast for further updates and information.

Long live the Queen.


[ Because he sure as bloody hell isn't going to bother reaching out like this again anytime soon. He doesn't add as much, though. Instead Philip presses a tissue to his nose, and catches the blood. Shuffles around some papers, and takes the opportunity to pause, anyway, because when his mind reaches across the island again the message plays a different tune: ]

To all homo sapiens: Our world does not need to be like this. Why try to anchor us in the past, when you could be part of our future? We are offering our help to you. If you would like to accept it, report to the science faculty at Magda University to participate in our Human Evolutionary Advancement Research Trials. Don't let the coming days be your end. Let them be a new beginning for all of us.

Never forget this: You have a chance to decide your own fate, before it gets decided for you.


[ He combs through his notes. Nope, that's that taken care of. Jesus Christ, he'll need a stiff drink now. He fumbles for a bottle in his drawer, and the phone on his desk. ]

Private Text to Ford Pines
Since as usual none of what I'm saying gets through to your tin brain, get your bloody arse over here and give me a status report on the experiments.

[[ OOC: Plotting comment is here, my contact post is here. Philip cannot read thoughts, so any replies will need to happen through other means. He won't get his memories back until late on the fourth day, so feel free to post starters across all days accordingly (or contact me if you want to set something up!) ]]

Text;

Aug. 1st, 2016 10:20 am
actualwizard: (033)
[personal profile] actualwizard
[ He knew she was gone even before he checked her room. Just like he knew when Teddy was gone and Tommy was gone. But he tried texting her anyway, and when she was no longer in his contacts he went to her room. Even though he knew it would be empty when he pushed open the door, seeing it...it felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

He leaned back against the wall next to the door and slid down, staring vacantly at the empty room. He lost track of time, he wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there before he pulled out his phone and sent a simple text.
]

For those who knew her Wanda Maximoff has returned home.

[ With that done he picks himself up off the floor and heads to the one place he liked to go sit and think, the roof. ]
hyperkinesia: (Default)
[personal profile] hyperkinesia
[ Ruth's far from a fan of showing her face on the network, but for the purposes of this particular broadcast, it's what makes most sense. Whereas some people might recognize her voice, others could just not make the connection, and she knows a face is likelier to trigger people's memories.

Doesn't mean she still doesn't feel and look awkward, though. A little too exposed for her taste. But anyway. ]


Hi. Uh... I'm Ruth Banner. I know I've been here a couple of times before. In Wonderland. I don't remember any of it, but so far I've met a few people who seem to know me, or at least know of me. So I've been wondering who here recognizes me, and those who do, what exactly do you know about me? I'd just feel a whole lot more comfortable being aware of how well people here know me.

[ Which is to say, she mostly is getting a little too paranoid about who knows or has seen the Hulk before. So best to get it out of the way by simply asking. ]

On another note: I know people are starting to get worried about a possible event following that announcement, and while I haven't experienced that many events so far, I've had it pointed out to me that sometimes they can change our minds, appearances, histories— everything, basically. So for all we know it might be happening right now and we're not even aware of it.

Not that that changes much, I know. [ She smiles weakly. ] Guess we'll have to wait and see.


» ACTION

[ After the late night broadcast, and still having difficulty falling asleep, Ruth decides to take advantage of the silence around the mansion and goes for a walk. The hallways and grounds are dipped in darkness, but she can be found walking down the corridors and around the gardens for a while, finally going to the kitchen and making herself a cup of tea. She's sitting on one of the stools, with her head propped on her hand, elbow on the counter, gaze unfocused as she pays little attention to her surroundings, apparently lost in her own thoughts. ]


((ooc: responses will come from [personal profile] akathisia!))
sciencelizard: (« [Hide] Just gonna die here it's fine)
[personal profile] sciencelizard
[The message starts out small and through text, looking well composed but in Alphys' usual typing style.]

hey so
undyne's room is empty so i guess she's
not here anymore
idk if anyone's looking for her but
i cant f ind he rr so
just sso everyoe knowsws


[there's a clunk as the device is set down and the video activates, seemingly unbeknownst to Alphys; the feed shows her stomach, then her hands, shaking to explain the typos, and then her back as she walks away from the device, sitting down on the nearby bed. She's not actively in frame- her tail can be seen from the corner- but it's pretty obvious she's crying, trying to keep it quiet but ultimately failing.

Eventually, the feed times out.]

[ooc: she'll respond to the network a little later, or she's available for action prompts at her room!]
tremoring: made for me; please don't take (✿ commission [76])
[personal profile] tremoring
[ooc: backdated to July 2nd, approximately 9 AM. There will be a log post in the logs community to follow this one.]

In the country where I was raised, the days right before or on July fourth are busy with parties, cookouts, and blowing up shit that makes pretty colors.

[That's ... one way to describe fireworks. She's being funny.]

Anyway. That's not really what I'm talking about -- but I am talking about parties and birthdays. I was born on July second, nineteen eighty-eight, and the year it was when I was last in my universe was twenty sixteen. Don't do the math on that and just assume it means I'm old.

[She knows twenty eight isn't actually old, but ya know, sometimes it feels like it. She's putting more humor into this.]

But it wasn't July yet there, so I was still technically a year younger than I am now, which means I guess I'm celebrating that birthday here.

Sooo .... this evening around 6:30, I'm gonna set up some tables of food by the pool and have a slightly low-key pool party, and anyone is welcome to come join.
sorryitasedyou: (I want to change my mind)
[personal profile] sorryitasedyou
[ ooc: Darcy is blue, Fitz is red, and Jane is purple. ]


[ Darcy hadn’t really been spending a lot of time in either of the labs after this whole mess, not wanting to be around someone who was so good at getting under her skin it should’ve been an art form. But, even with everything that happened, she couldn’t stay away forever. Besides, she was helping Jane with the aether research while everyone else handed other Wonderland related things. You can’t just magnetize glitter and then ditch someone. Of course, maybe she wouldn’t have been saying that if she’d known what was going to happen.

Which is what brings her to addressing the network with a slight look of panic, even if she’s trying to maintain her cool. For those in the know, she’s not fighting with Fitz right now, so… Progress? ]


Houston, we have a problem. Slight complication in the lab, may turn into a much bigger issue depending on how this goes. [ Despite her best attempts to play nice, it’s hard to not shoot Fitz a dirty look and let her tone take a turn to the salty side. And though her sass levels are reaching critical mass, the offscreen brogue that replies doesn’t rise to the prodding. He’s softspoken and quick instead, because there is literally no time for this. ]

The area of effect seems to be a column in shape. Rooms along the fifty-two block might want to strongly consider evacuation.

Darcy, do you have a hairpin?


Yeah, for once. And just for a little clarification on that, we’re on the fourth floor. So if you’re around this area either below or above, it might not be a bad idea to listen to him. [ Considering she normally wore her hair down, it was rare for her to have much of anything on her. But, a few things had changed over the past weeks - including her wearing her glasses more often than contacts and her hair pulled back. She removes the one that had been keeping some of the shorter strands out of her face, quickly handing it over before returning her attention to the small device in her other hand. Guess who’s really trying to not draw attention to the fact that they’d agreed on something and she actually said the words listen to him. ] Something happened that set the aether off. We’re trying to keep it from damaging anything other than the lab, but it kind of has a mind of its own. [ She gives look offscreen to check to see if she actually has time to explain or if she needs to just ask people to trust her on this one with a promise for answers if they survive it. ] It turns things into dark matter. There was a convergence back home that opened up weird portals and then Dark Elves tried to plunge the universe into darkness using it and -- It’s bad news bears. [ Less ramble, more to the point. She can do this. ]

While you talk to the rest of them, could you apply pressure to this piece? I’m running out of ways to complete this circuit.

[ For much of the remaining feed, Darcy’s face is lit with a tint that alternates between blue and red. It might be best not to ask. It tends to be a good rule of thumb that if Darcy’s not questioning something, it’s either because she trusts the other person or the situation is just starting to head in that bad of a direction that there’s no time. ] Yeah, I -- [ She complies with the request before looking back to check on Jane, not expecting an interruption. ]

Darcy. [ Jane's seated, weary as evidenced by her slouch. The camera pans slightly to show her as Darcy’s full attention is turned with her name. Jane’s eyes shine unnaturally as she looks up, the still flashing red and blue lights not helping at all. ] It's happening again-- get down!

[ The camera still has Jane somewhat in view, Darcy no longer paying attention to keeping it on any one point. Red tint envelops the feed, the atmosphere around the trio cloying with the unnatural hue of the aether spreading its influence against Wonderland's magic and rippling outward through the mansion. Darcy doesn’t hesitate to grab Fitz and hit the ground, hoping whatever he’d been working on helps in keeping this from destroying a solid chunk of the mansion. Objects seem to turn at random to dark matter. The stool beneath Jane seems to dissipate into nothing, as do various pieces of equipment and assorted belongings around them. Sensors and alarms ring out through the lab, electronic panic ineffectual against the power of the infinity stone at work. And that’s when the feed cuts, suddenly and almost violently. ]


[ ooc: For those who are canon blind, here’s a handy dandy link about the aether. If you’d like your character/your character’s objects or room to be hit by a bad bout of dark matter, feel free. It’s totally up to you on how much or how little or maybe even not at all. This will be affecting floors 3, 4, and 5 for dark matter shenanigans per mod approval. Action is welcome to come to the lab afterwards. Please specify if you want a particular char response, otherwise one or all will respond. ]
ingenii: (ғɪᴠᴇ)
[personal profile] ingenii
As dangerous as those tunnels were they offered something familiar. Something to explore.

( And it's no bloody wonder that she'd found Shepard down there, or many others )

Everything that's been said about this place sounds like a lot of crap, but far be it from me to just disagree.

( She's smart enough to know that disagreeing with the mob is dangerous, and she's not looking for a headache. Instead she'll work to prove something else. To find an answer that she can actually agree with - even if it would be difficult. Miranda likes a challenge, and at least it'll keep her occupied )

Considering this place apparently uses our memories I'll ask if anything sounds familiar, and hearing it from Shepard doesn't count. ( Aka has there ever been anything from their world before ) Omega, the Normandy, Reapers.

( There's a brief pause before she adds: )

Oh, and Shepard? Meet in the bar.

( She's already there )
assembles: (trying to keyword while tired)
[personal profile] assembles
[ The feed snaps on, and the frame is on the crowded side. In the foreground Steve and Wanda are seated, arranged on a couch in one of the mansion’s tea rooms, while Natasha stands behind them, leaning against the wall near the door. Steve has his phone tilted so that all of three them are visible, Wanda’s arm linked with his.

Steve’s in civilian wear, his expression composed and collected. He isn’t here to give out orders or make any speeches, though. ]


So it looks like Wonderland sent all three of us home at once. Sorry about that. [ As if they had any control over it. ] But we’re back now and more or less in one piece. [ Which isn’t the full story at all, but that isn’t something that needs to be shared with all of Wonderland.

Natasha pushes away from the wall at this and moves closer into the frame of the video, leaning on the back of the couch over Steve’s shoulder, expression mild. ]
I don’t know if any others of us were sent home recently, but if so, letting us know would be greatly appreciated.

[ Her lips quirk briefly. ] Either way, I think some of us will need to be assembling for a SitRep soon regardless. But we wanted to let you know we were back to keep people from worrying.

[ Steve glances over his shoulder at Natasha, nods, and then returns to looking at his phone. ] Let us know if we’re needed anywhere.

[ With that, the feed cuts. ]


Action option for Steve )

Action option for Natasha )

Action option for Wanda )
readytocomply: <user name=easystreet> (82)
[personal profile] readytocomply
[It had been the right thing to do. For everyone. He wasn't safe, couldn't trust himself, and while he hadn't wanted to do it, it had been the only choice. But he's been in and out of cryostasis enough to know when coming out this time isn't the same. It's not just the breeze on his skin causing his too-long hair to dance across his forehead, or the sweet, dry smell of fruit trees. No, it's the way he wakes up. Slow, naturally, like he'd slept the whole night through, and there's nothing normal about that.

The communication device his fingers are curled around doesn't bother him. Bucky's used to not remembering things, but the stalls and the vendors with their strange shapeless masks who stand nearby do. He walks past one, their face completely smooth, as featureless as a blank wall, and his breath catches in his throat, freezing him in place. There's a million explanations going through his mind and none of them make any sense except one and he doesn't want to think about that.

It takes a vender getting too close before he snaps out of it long enough to go through the motions. Better clothes, sweats and a white tank aren't cutting it, and a relatively safe place to hide so he can figure things out, grabbing a pamphlet on the way.

Bucky's face is half-hidden when the feed starts, voice low, and he wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't necessary. He was on shaky ground and he needed something to steady him.]


Name's Bucky. I'm looking for someone. Steve Rogers.

[It's risky to put it out there like that. He doesn't know these people and he's been alive long enough to know that even the prettiest people with the brightest smiles can be hiding the worst lies and secrets. But he needs to find someone he remembers. Everything is muddled and this place looks like something his mind has made up.]

He might go by Captain America.

[Just in case he's alone in Wonderland, he adds a little more.]

If someone could tell me what the hell's going on here, I'd appreciate it.

[There's a brief pause. He considers mentioning the obvious physical difference that would set him apart, but they'll figure it out when they see him.]

I'll be on the first floor, entrance hall, if anyone wants to talk in person. This way's fine, too.

[ooc: spoilers for civil war possible in this post; if anyone doesn't want them, please let me know.]
monosaccharide: canon (goliad109)
[personal profile] monosaccharide
Greetings denizens of Wonderland!

[Bubblegum looks excited today. She has a lab coat on over her pink dress, her hair piled into a bun and out of the way.]

I have made some rather alarming discoveries, and I thought I would share them with you.

[She fiddles with a remote and the picture is replaced with an image, her face shrinking to a smaller box in the corner.]

For those of you from less scientifically advanced worlds, this is a PET scan. It shows activity in the brain. As you can see, I've marked off several areas of note. This subject made an excellent example, as they have experienced unrelated amnesia as well as Wonderland memory loss. You see in "Area A," there's a darker smudge? That is what I'd expect memory loss to look like. This subject's memories have been manipulated rather extensively, so it isn't surprising that the data would be a little... fuzzy.

But the areas marked "B" and "C".... when I first noticed those I thought there might be something wrong with my equipment, but after discussion with the subject and testing my equipment further, I am forced to conclude that my reading is correct.

My subject has lost two memories from the so-called "Wonderland Events" and traded one away to the vendors. She has three dots where there is simply... no data, two smaller, one larger. This should not be possible. It certainly is alarming. Nothing should be able to remove data so thoroughly. Nothing. But if my hypothesis is correct, Wonderland is doing just that.

[She touches her control again, sending the brain scan away, her own image now taking up the entire screen. She smiles sunnily.]

Anyway, I'm happy to share my full report with anyone interested. I'd also welcome anyone willing to volunteer as a subject. The more data we have, the more substantial a theory I can build.

Thank you for your time. I will take any and all questions you may have now.
hypoxic: (grieving heaven)
[personal profile] hypoxic
[Video]

[Fitz had intended to send this as a private message to Dr. Foster, but a sudden onset of dizziness and blurred vision meant a text message was out of the question. Video would have to do. He'd remembered to set the privacy settings, hadn't he? Probably.

He addresses the network with a bleary expression, glassy eyes rolling up into his head until he blinks to train them back into place. His skin is an unhealthy pallor, ghastly white with a rash of dark splotches tainting the deep bags under his eyes.]


Doctor Foster... I, ah... The samples from the tunnels? I've been performing analyses, and I've reason to suspect that they aren't quite safe... They react terribly to human DNA samples. It's... I'm not a strong enough biologist to reach a proper conclusion, but some sort of degeneration appears to be taking place.

I also think it might be in our best interests to quarantine off the remaining sediment. The dust has been... It's...

[He grimaces and clenches his jaw, bowing his head for a long moment. He doesn't finish his thought, jumping over to a different one instead.]

Would advise against further reconnaissance trips to the tunnels. At least until we've had more time to study.

[He clumsily gropes along the keyboard next. One of those button presses probably manages to post it. Probably.]



[Action]

[Those who thought the darkness was limited to the subterranean levels of Wonderland might be dismayed by a certain scientist's decision to bring a cursed object onto a higher level. Fitz, believing fully that "cursed objects" were silly superstitions, saw nothing wrong with the idea of bringing it topside for testing and discovery. That was before the illness struck. Now, there's just pain. Pain and... some kind of faint melody. It's too distant to make out yet, a soft buzzing at the edge of his thoughts.

After leaving his message, he abandons the lab entirely, with the intent to return to his room on the fourth floor and sleep until the illness breaks on its own. He's underestimated the frequent onsets of mystical pain, though. He'll most likely be a huddled lump of a person curled against a hallway wall, shivering despite a critically high fever.

He'll still argue any "taint" or "curse" talk, though. It's probably nothing that antibiotics can't cure.]

⎊ [Video]

May. 1st, 2016 08:07 am
narcissistictendencies: (You're on the list?)
[personal profile] narcissistictendencies
[The feed opens to Tony's form from about the waist up. His sleeves are rolled up and his left arm is covered in burns that look to be about a week old. He's holding a strange device about eight inches long. It's encased entirely in a shell and seems to have a small domed sensor on top.]

I just wanted to say, if you start seeing these around, it's not a tiny alien invasion, they're sensors. I'm setting them around key locations in the hopes of finding a way to predict these event things. In light of the most recent catastrophe, I think it's only a reasonable step towards surviving something like that again. There has to be something preceding these things, right? Like a low-pressure system before a storm. We get a warning, sure. Sometimes, anyway? Maybe, if we can figure out what causes them or where they're coming from, we can delay or stop them?

[It's... all he's got, okay? He hates feeling like he isn't in control and he hates that people die because of it, even more.]

I'm... [He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a sleepless headache coming on.] officially out of retirement. Hold the "I told you so"s. You know who you are.
widows_kiss: serious, curious, action (A1 048)
[personal profile] widows_kiss
[ Video ]
    [ Natasha shows up on the Network early in the day. Her hair is already tousled and she's looking a little out of breath, but she's currently holed up somewhere quiet to try and get in touch with the others - or anyone else who is out there at the moment, because so far everything's been alarmingly quiet other than the monsters roaming the mansion and the occasional scuffle she's come across and lent a hand in. Or just instigated herself, when the odds looked favorable. ]

    Alright, safe spots are all well and good, but these things have to be coming from somewhere and there seems to be more of them by the minute. Anyone have any brilliant ideas on how we might slow down their numbers or maybe keep them stuck to certain floors?

    Also, any Avengers out there? I could really use a bit of backup. I might have gotten a little bit more attention than I wanted to. [ Oops? ]

[ Action ]
    [ Natasha's not content to remain stationary for any length of time. For the duration of the event she keeps moving, constantly switching between defensive and offensive maneuvers. She finds and coordinates with teammates and friends and, hell, even strangers whenever she comes across them, falling seamlessly in and out of battle and carving her way through what monsters she can with a cold, determined precision.

    She doesn't have a gas mask, persay, but there is a filter that looks like it was made specifically to match her tac suit often fixed over her mouth and nose, designed to protect from harmful gases, so she figures this will serve the same purpose. She a pair of pistols and a large supply of ammo on her, as well as her stingers and an alarming amount of knives tucked away on her person - including one the size of a small machete that she doesn't hesitate to use when there's a need.

    Should anyone find themselves in trouble, she's quick to lend aid, or fall in at their backs to join in the fray until the threat is taken care of. Feel free to encounter her anywhere during the span of the event. ]
backpacking: (all just lie and complain)
[personal profile] backpacking
[ At first, there are a lot of nondescript sounds and images, as if she turned on the feed and promptly forgot about it. The voice of a preteen girl lets loose a string of muttered curses. Objects rustle, clatter, shuffle. Heavy footfall. Eventually, Ellie shows her face, clearly trying to be more informative thank panicked, but the fear makes it into her eyes and voice. ]

Hey, remember when I thought it'd be helpful to say what kind of crap might follow us here? ... Yeah. Totally right about that. [ Distracted, the camera shifts to show a sideways view of the hallway without much of interest to see there. Ellie walks for a while, still producing swears on every other exhale, though she quickly returns to the video. ]

If you saw Max's broadcast, then you know... something's up. And the zombies? Aren't zombies. They're Infected, they're... basically the same, except they're not undead, or whatever. Those things are still alive. And they... fucking... followed me here.

[ In a manner of speaking. For anyone who's ever wondered about the hopeless world that Ellie was pulled out of, this will be a lovely first-hand opportunity to learn. ]

Right. Okay. So, what you need to know. [ Hopefully people aren't asleep. This occurs to her and she stops short, trying to figure out if she has time to go door to door and pound on them until their residents can flee. More swearing. ] ... If they bite you, or scratch you, you're screwed. They might be in the basement now, so we've got some time. I went down there, and they look like Runners, so they can see and hear you, and they're fucking fast.

[ Hence the name. Cue sights and sounds of Ellie stuffing a bunch of supplies into her backpack. ]

Oh, yeah. So, that's not all. What they're sick with? It's a fungus, and its spores are... down there, but if those guys come up here, then the spores'll be everywhere. If you breathe them in, you're done. Just-- get outside, grab supplies, weapons, and definitely a gas mask, and get out of here. It's just gonna get worse.

[ Shit. There's so much more she wants to say, but her mind is both blank and racing wildly, and all she can really hold onto is that she has to find people and keep them safe. Ellie swallows, face set, clearly pained by what she knows is about to happen. ]

Endure and survive.

( text )

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

video;

Apr. 11th, 2016 01:44 pm
hypoxic: (shooting down my cheeks)
[personal profile] hypoxic
[There's some fumbling with the camera then, the usual motion blur that can be associated with a newcomer exploring unfamiliar technology.]

Right, so that's the camera there. And the microphone is... Oh, well that's a bit on the nose isn't it? I suppose that would make it easier for the lay user.

[A bit more shifting then, until he sets his device on a flat surface. The image is a small, softbodied man with a pointed intensity in his eyes. He speaks softly, in a thick Scottish brogue.]

H-hello -- to whomever might be listening. I apologize for this interruption, but I'm searching for someone in particular. I have reason to believe that Jemma Simmons has been staying among you. If you know her, it's imperative that I make contact with her. My name is Leo Fitz -- I followed her here.

[He doesn't mention SHIELD or their duties, though. The agency is such a touchy issue in the public eye, it might be a condemnation to draw unnecessary attention to it. There was no telling what kind of people lived here.]

Oh, I hope languages won't be an issue. Though I suppose it should be fine if we utilize this text function...

[His stare shifts pensively from the display to the camera and back again. His instinct is to pull apart this hardware and improve upon the flaws, but that would be entirely counterproductive to his means.]
pig_and_pepper: ({ I make you a present... })
[personal profile] pig_and_pepper
Eat! Devour! Swallow! Consume!

[ The Duchess' announcement sounds loud and fierce, from the mansion's very rooftop, and any device that would listen. But no sooner does her last scream ebb away, than her voice and face alike turn into a picture of quiet melancholy. ]

Would that we could leave it all behind. Alas, such matters make poor resolutions, for what certainty is there, truly, that we could become the hunters, and not merely food for another?

[ She looks towards the forest and lingers thus a moment longer, lest her silent dignity should inspire an artist to paint her greatness. Then she turns with flourish, and embraces the presence of her dearest audience at last. ]

Oh, oh! I do promise we shan't dwell on it a moment longer than we must! [ Her hands clap together with excessive cheer. ] You've all conducted yourselves rather splendidly, and did I not tell you that matters would resolve just as you all deserve? I am so very pleased with you today, and I should like to share a moral thought:

[ Cue the dignified pause for effect. Then: ]

Year's end is no end, yet neither is it beginning. 'Tis a continuance, with all the wisdom instilled by experience.

[ She smiles very, very warmly, and parts with her final thought: ]

Try to avoid the teeth this time, won't you?

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