drummeintheface: (If you want some)
[personal profile] drummeintheface
Guys, is everybody really really sure that Wonderland is the one giving everybody presents?

[Greg's too close to the camera, as per usual, but he pulls back to hold up his own prize: a weird shaped shield.]

If this was a mystery-- and I think it is! --I'd say this is a clue that this wasn't Wonderland at all.

[He lowers the shield and peeks over the top of it, his eyes a little wide.]

The events lately have been really dangerous, and Wonderland does those, right? So why would Wonderland give me this? It just doesn't add up!

[Nope. He shakes his head. It makes no sense at all!]

I think this shield came from somebody else! In fact, I have a suspect!

[Greg puts the shield down and holds up a rather candid photograph.]

My brother! Wirt!

So! That's my theory! Wirt, did you get everybody presents?

[CASE. CLOSED. Uh, Greg turns the camera off.]
squeakyslate: (Default)
[personal profile] squeakyslate
[ Bill the Lizard is not building. Bill the Lizard is lizarding, sitting on a large rock in the sun. He looks out at the lake, thoughtfully. ]

They've got a whole nine wrapped together, no wonder you can't remember your place neither. Set a foot in one, end up in another, snap of ye finger, goes just like that. Goes they'll all stumble together, and end up here, too. What a right mess that'll be to paint over. Shine like the stars, that's the one, shine like all the stars, like it'll be worth to fight over.

[ Thoughtfully his tongue flicks up and down, and licks the side of his face. ]

Won't compare to her I tell ye, she'll be a right proper treat soon enough-- Aw, but that'd be peeking all right, bad enough we don't got a working door for her right away--

[ Bill flicks his tail and perks up. ]

No. No, listen good, lads, listen, ye hear? Dress up nice and warm, that'll come in well and good later!

audio; 001

Aug. 14th, 2017 10:36 am
bigtrouble: (48)
[personal profile] bigtrouble
[Alex had fallen asleep on the airship, curled up at the back and tucked between his Mom and Dad - Uncle Jon snoring somewhere by his feet. The sun had just set over a sandy horizon and Izzy had them on a smooth course back home, relatively smooth anyway. He can't help that it'd only been minutes after sitting down that he'd gone to sleep, the last few days had been tiring and he was comfortable settled in the middle of his family. It had been nice. Which makes the sudden transition from comfortably sprawled across two adults to falling into water that much more jarring.

He surfaces, gasping for air and flailing for a few moments before realizing that he's not far from a beach. He swims until he can stand and then he hits his knees, catching his breath. From here, he doesn't recognize anything. The sky above or the ground below and when he calls out for his parents, for his uncle, nobody answers him. Concern lodges in his throat, shoulders hunching up around his ears as water laps over the backs of his shoes. There's a dock with a few small boats nearby, palm trees, beach chairs, and umbrellas bigger than him stuck into the ground. That, as quickly as fear had swept through him, just as swiftly puts him a little bit at ease. There are people here. Somewhere. All he has to do is find them. Standing, he kicks off his shoes and dumps the water out of them, leaving them on the beach. The further he walks, the more he can see - an orchard to his right and a big house to the north. His parents are probably there and, even though something doesn't seem right, they can explain what's going on. Then they can go home. ( He hasn't been to the museum in ages and there's a new exhibit he wants to see. ) There's nobody outside but he knocks, then pushes it open because he's eight, for Christ's sake and he can't be blamed for forgetting his manners in an emergency.]


Mom? Dad? [A pause.] Uncle Jon? This isn't funny.

[He slips as he walks inside, eyes wide and mouth falling open as he stares up at the skylight. Alex doesn't move from that spot, not at first, head tipped back in awe, and when he does speak, it's a soft sound. Barely even a audible as he glances around.]

Mom?

[Alex has never used a phone before but after opening a few doors and looking around, he finds a seat and plays with it. He hits enough buttons that, on his eighth or ninth try, he's able to post to all of Wonderland.]

I'm looking for my parents, my Mom and Dad. My Uncle Jon, too. [There's a rustling sound as he drops and picks the phone back up, mumbling under his breath that the sucker weighs a goddang ton.] And Izzy. I was just with them and now I'm here.

Yeah, yeah, I already heard the part where this place is like something out of Carroll's book, but that's crazy.

[He's read the story, but it's only a story right? But then, he's seen a mummy come back to life so maybe it isn't that crazy. The pamphlet, which is now folded and tucked into his jacket pocket, had been helpful - the author's name had been skipped in his rush to read it.]

If anyone can help me, I'm sure my parents will be grateful to have me back.

[His voice fades out then comes back in louder than before.]

Oh, I'm Alex. Alex O'Connell.

[The feed ends after a few minutes of silence.]
mettatonvevo: (WELL THEN)
[personal profile] mettatonvevo
[The video feed opens to a pair of robotic hands pinning a sign to a pillar in the Entrance Hall. This isn’t terribly peculiar since Mettaton has done this quite a lot in the past for his concerts but the subject of this flyer is of a different affair than anyone is accustomed to seeing. It is rather bare in comparison to the almost gaudy things he’s put up before but this one is straight and to the point: a picture of a ghost that some of Wonderland may recognize and the words on the top and bottom of the flyer say in big bold, eye-catching print HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GHOST? Anyone who happens to explore the mansion today will run into a lot of them hung up all over Wonderland.

There’s a couple of seconds as Mettaton adjusts the flyer so it sits perfectly on it and, satisfied, he reaches a hand back to the camera and turns it to face him.]


Hello Wonderland! It’s been awhile since I have posted here, I know, it’s a tragedy that I need to remedy more often, but that’s a problem for later. For now, dear Wonderland, I need your help. You see, in that last event or perhaps a little before it, someone important went missing. And I know some of you knew them, so I will need your help in finding them!

[He says this with a confidence that does not betray the anxiety that has been building in his soul that he has been fervently denying.]

Now I know one of the first questions some of you may ask me is “Is their room empty?” Well. Their room being empty, whether or not it is, doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that they are missing and that I will find them. Any information you have as to where they may be would be incredibly helpful!

[Now Mettaton looks almost imploringly to the camera, but of course he’d never come off as desperate, no, he’s Mettaton! He’d never potentially lose his cool like this.]

So! If any of you have information about the whereabouts of the dear and lovely Napstablook, I am all ears! I will be all over Wonderland and if you have anything at all, respond to this and let me know.

[With a decisive nod he ends the feed.]

((ooc: If you’re feeling an action thread, Mettaton can be found almost all over Wonderland feverishly looking for his dear friend, so feel free to run into his rather desperate search as he denies that Napstablook is gone. Places of note are The Music Room, the Library and probably the entirety of the Second Floor but he can absolutely be found anywhere you wish other than the Forest, which is a closed prompt.))
deadshapes: (crimes)
[personal profile] deadshapes
[ Clementine and Mae appear on the screen. It’s a little girl and a cat girl. They’re standing in a room on the first floor. Clem has a crowbar in her hand, slung over her shoulder. Mae has her trusty baseball bat and a very cat-that-got-the-canary grin on her face.]

Hey, so… Mae told me about how she breaks shit sometimes and how it’s… cathartic? [ that’s the word she used, right? ] And I tried it with a light bulb. It felt pretty damn awesome so we thought it might be cool to have an official place where people could break stuff whenever they needed to deal with bullshit.

[Mae immediately picks up the thread, grinning wide.]

So we are super effing pleased to introduce…The Destruction Room.

[She pans the camera over to the sign on the door. It’s generic and straight to the point. Then she pans the camera around to take in the room. There’s rows of shelves filled with china plates, vases, glass figurines and other fragile-looking items. Along the walls are dozens of light fixtures and free-standing lamps, as well as just a metric ton of lightbulbs, both fluorescent and incandescent. All of it is very precariously displayed and it looks like it wouldn’t take much to just knock some of these shelves right over.]

Isn’t it amazing? We stocked it with everything that could possibly go smash.

[Clementine gestures then to have Mae pan the camera toward the wall on the side which has a giant weapon rack with every blunt weapon imaginable from bats to maces to hammers and more. ]

Over on this wall, we’ve got every blunt weapon you can think of so you can really make the breakables crack into a hundred awesome pieces. Also, it’s on the first floor, room 4 so if you hit yourself in the foot or get glass stuck in your arm or something, the clinic’s right next door.

Yeah, we pretty much thought of everything. Because we’re awesome.

[Mae holds out her hand to Clementine for a high-five. Clementine leans over, high fiving her back, with a smile. Totally awesome. ]

Anyway, yeah, come on down and get your smash on. Work out some of that pre-event anxiety or whatever.
lifeisntfun: (Shock)
[personal profile] lifeisntfun
[The Unknown isn’t exactly a normal place, so Beatrice isn’t a stranger to the… well, strange. However, she isn’t exactly a fan of new things. She likes to know everything that’s going on around her and she likes to know that she is in control of absolutely anything and everything. So, when she awoke to find herself in a strange oak tree in a strange forest facing a spooky mansion, she wasn’t exactly thrilled.

She flew erratically for a few minutes, screaming for help at the top of her lungs, before she started to calm herself down and really think. Where is she? Where is Wirt? She had “run” into him just moments ago (at least, flown into him). He’s gotten into the habit of leaving at the most inopportune times, she really needs to talk to him about that when she finds him.

Well, it’s more likely that she’ll find help in the creepy mansion than in the creepy (and also abandoned) forest. She flies to the door and realizes she can’t realistically lift a knocker (sometimes lacking arms and weighing only an ounce is really inconvenient), then starts frantically pecking at windows. Someone has to be around in this gigantic and creepy mansion, right? Hopefully they aren’t some weird people who eat bluebirds or… something else like that.

Wow, what Beatrice wouldn’t give for arms right now. She’s flying around, pecking randomly at windows and flapping her wings so hard she could create a small whirlwind. Finally, she finds an open window on the third floor and makes herself at home. She’s flying around the room, taking it all in, when the wall unit turns on all by itself. It manages to record her talking to herself like a madwomanbird.]


Okay, Beatrice, you can handle this. You’re just stuck in a creepy mansion in the middle of a completely unfamiliar forest where there is no escape. You’re probably going to die, but whatever, it’s not like life is that great anyway, death can’t be much worse. Oh well. That’s it, you’re going to die here, completely alone and hated by everyone who loves you. I’m sure when someone eventually DOES open that door, they will be some sort of deranged killer and they’ll try and bake you into a pie or something. Would bluebirds even taste good? WHY ARE YOU THINKING THIS NOW? I guess I could claw at their eyes?
singloversing: Two Birds - Regina Spektor (And I'm sorry)
[personal profile] singloversing
[Wirt doesn't look good.

He's pale, and he's having a little trouble holding the camera steady. Too beat to stand, he's sitting on the floor leaning against the wall. Thinking is hard and he doesn't want to send out this message at all, but he doesn't have a choice in the matter.
]

I...I need someone to do me a favor.

[It takes him a moment to summon up the nerve to keep going. He uses his free hand to pull his cape tighter around him.]

I need someone to look after my brother Greg. He's only six and I-I'm not-- I'm not good in a fight and I can't really protect anyone. [His voice hitches, his nerves failing him for moment.] I-I can't even protect myself, how can I--

[He can't do this. He pokes his arm out from under his cape and knots his fingers in his hair. The famous cone hat falls off. It takes him a second to collect himself again.]

I-I just. I need someone to come look after Greg, and I need someone to not-- n-not tell me I'm an idiot or dumb whatever for this because like I know that already and it doesn't change anything, so can someone please do that? Please? Please, I...I-I need...

[He shuts his eyes tight and rubs at them. This message is too hard to do without being that guy who cries on the network and he doesn't want to go down with that kind of reputation.]

...I-I need someone to look after him. I...I'm going to go once someone says they'll come. I don't want to leave him alone, but I c-- I. I...need to. Soon. ...Thank you.

[He rattles off their current address quickly and when he pulls the camera closer to shut it off, for a second viewers can see that his other arm is heavily bandaged and blood-stained. It's been hurting him, but he wasn't sure if anyone would come if they could see it, so he's been trying really to keep it out of frame.]
alphyswhatsabara: (Smile Dad)
[personal profile] alphyswhatsabara
::The video feed turns on. Asgore is in it. He is sitting next to a... Christmas... tree... which he has apparently put up in his room. For some reason. And he is wearing a very Ugly Christmas Sweater. The absolute worst.::

So! Because it is almost Christmas time, I was wondering if anyone other than Monsters celebrates this special holiday. It is a time when Monsters exchange gifts with friends and family, and decorate trees, such as the Christmas Tree which I have behind me.

::He pans the camera over to get a look at what appears to be a very average Christmas tree; he must have asked for 'generic Christmas Tree decorations' from the closets or something. It has lights and balls and tinsel and non-religious bauble at the top. He keeps the camera on the tree instead of on himself for the rest of the video's duration.::

I thought that if you wanted to, you could share what you were hoping for for Christmas this year. I always enjoy a new necktie bottle of Stetson cologne shaving kit new kind of tea. Who knows, you may be visited by Santa and he will bring you what you want.

::The video feed cuts off::
drummeintheface: (They're short and stout)
[personal profile] drummeintheface
GUYS. THIS IS A GOOD ONE.

[Greg is right up in the camera's grill again. Somebody needs to teach him webiquette at some point.]

I can do magic again! And I'm short! And I've got furry feets!

[He puts the camera down against something so he can show off. The height isn't probably noticeable to most people, as he's about the same height he was before-- which was already pretty short. He does indeed have furry feet, though, and with a wave of his hand, he summons some light, low-hanging fog that quickly makes it difficult to see him as he thinks of yet another cool thing he wants to show and tell:]

Oh! And I got this coolio slingshot! It's made of gold which is also a rock! And that's a rock fact!

[As the fog dissipates, Greg's tapping his chin with the slingshot. He doesn't seem to see the figure that's looming a few yards behind him.]

Hmm. Maybe I can get a baby Rock Facts Rock and bring him home with me. This is where they come from, right?

[The figure slowly extends a sneaking vine towards Greg, moving inch by inch. Greg shrugs, his mind on more important things.]

Well, maybe later. I gotta figure out what other magic I can do!

[And so Greg steps forward to turn off his device. Just as the feed ends, the viewer can see the vine creeping along the ground behind him, intent on tangling around his ankles.

[video]

Jun. 18th, 2017 02:57 pm
stereotypicaljock: (let's go there together)
[personal profile] stereotypicaljock
[It's a particular day on this imaginary Wonderland calendar that's got Jason thinking about some of the family he's left behind. He misses his father like crazy, even though he's supposed to be old enough to handle that. It makes him think about how many little kids are running around Wonderland without families of their own. It's with them in mind that he addresses the network.]

Hey, guys. Where I'm from, today's a pretty big family day, and I was thinking that might get weird for some people. So I wanted to just get the word out.

[He ducks out of frame so the video is presenting the doorframe of the Youth Center as a visual aid.]

We're gonna make sure people are staffing the youth center all day today. So feel free to stop by if you could use a little extra company. We can play some games, or eat way too much ice cream, or sit around and talk. It's your call.

[Sometimes if a father can't be around, a big brother might do.]
cieled: (deal)
[personal profile] cieled
I thought this would be of use for those unaware of the story - and there do seem to be a lot of you. (No judgement. Or not much anyway.

He begins to read, beginning with Chapter One - Down the Rabbit-Hole. Chapter Two - The Pool of Tears, Chapter Three - A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale, Chapter Four - The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill, Chapter Five - Advice from a Caterpillar, Chapter Six - Pig and Pepper, Chapter Seven - A Mad Tea-Party, Chapter Eight - The Queen's Croquet-Ground, Chapter Nine - The Mock Turtle's Story, Chapter Ten - The Lobster Quadrille, Chapter Eleven - Who Stole the Tarts? and Chapter Twelve - Alice's Evidence follow. When Ciel finishes, he closes the book in his lap and smiles thinly, without humor.)


I cannot say any of it offers comfort or insight, but it is a beginning to those who are new and those who are unaware that Wonderland is, indeed, a story first and foremost.
falconing: (EVERYTHING IS FINE)
[personal profile] falconing
[ han usually takes up Too Much Space (tm) when he sits somewhere, but he's exceptionally sprawling today in a chair, looking some mixture between bored and perturbed.

he's not a fan of prisons. and this, for all of its decorative artwork and landscape, is a prison. and so han sighs, puffing out his cheeks slightly, before straightening up to rest his elbows on his knees.

he's scoped out the landscape, a bit. he's explored a little, gotten a general idea of what he's doing here, and he's figured out this place is a giant conglomeration of peoples from a bunch of different universes crammed together to figure it out. heartwarming, but he's got stuff to do. ]


So who's gonna tell me whether or not there's a key to get out of this place? 'cause I've got one hell of a to-do list going on back home.

[ and without waiting for an opportunity for someone to answer -- ]

And while you're at it, has anybody seen a rogue Skywalker?

[ if folks from his universe are here, they'll know exactly who he's talking about. and if not, no harm no foul.

he'll save asking for leia once he's figured out whether luke is here first. nobody needs to be alerted to her. yet, anyway. ]

video

May. 29th, 2017 09:27 am
fancylad: (to forgive and forget)
[personal profile] fancylad
[A bright eyed eleven-year-old appears on the network, along with his politest smile. He gives a little wave, then clears his throat. Though he's not someone anyone would have seen before, being a new arrival, he doesn't look all that lost. In fact, with his little fancyboy clothes, he's clearly trying to give off a good impression.]

Hello, sirs and madams and, um, everyone else! I am Angus McDonald, my world's greatest detective. I've already done my part investigating Wonderland and its many, um, I guess you could call them features, but I thought I might like to interview some people. To, um, get a better idea of the details within the big picture. I just have a few questions to start:

Number one, who is the person who has been here the longest, and how long have they been here? Also, has anyone left that was here even longer than them? Lastly, my information on the Mirror side is lacking. Could I speak to anyone that has been over there?

[He gives a big cheesy grin to sign off.]

If anyone has any other interesting information that might help crack-- crack this place wide open, um, feel free to offer it! That is all! Thank you!

Audio

May. 24th, 2017 10:22 am
singloversing: Into the Ocean - Blue October (Let the rain of what I feel right now)
[personal profile] singloversing
Um...Hi. Wirt here. I-I have a quick question?

[Video is too much pressure for just a quick, awkward question, so it's just Wirt's stammering voice today.]

So, like. A-A lot of us got robbed, right? That wasn't just me? A-And that's definitely happened before, another time they crossed over, so like...

[Deep breath. You can do this, Wirt.]

...What do they do with all our stuff? Does anyone know? Is there just like, a pile of it over there like a very strange dragon hoard or something?

text

May. 22nd, 2017 02:37 am
rlynotfeelinup2itrnsorry: (sad and alone)
[personal profile] rlynotfeelinup2itrnsorry
d-does any one have any um... regular tape....

the closet has given me.....

duct tape,
electrical tape,
masking tape,
packing tape,
painter's tape,
a book on tape,
and double-sided tape
and a lot more kinds of tape i don't know the name of....

but i need regular tape

also does anyone know how to put together.... a book that the pages have been torn out of....

or how to.... reknit a scarf.....

or.... or.....

i'm sorry.....

[ video ]

May. 22nd, 2017 12:20 am
finewithhalf: (in trouble AGAIN?)
[personal profile] finewithhalf
[Okay, fine. The whole "assaulted and used as a hostage to torment someone else" routine was kind of traumatizing she guesses. But the aftermath of it has been so much worse. Why don't people talk about how much the healing process sucks? Everything is itchy and annoying. And now people are gossipping about a lake.

Recovery is dumb. It's dumb enough that Maya's gone to the network with the webcam on full blast, even though she's fairly obviously propped up in bed with her arm in a sling and patches of bruising smattered across her visible skin. Everyone's probably like this. And if they aren't, then something's wrong and horribly unfair.]


Hey, so is anyone else going kind of stir-crazy? Medical lockdown's pretty much the worst and I'm probably gonna punch someone if I don't talk to someone soon.

So come on. What'cha got? Extra points if you don't say anything about current events or mirror-anything.
rlynotfeelinup2itrnsorry: (leans against sound board)
[personal profile] rlynotfeelinup2itrnsorry
[The video is posted in the dead of the night. It opens to wonderland's resident ghost monster, fiddling with the camera the screen turns black, falling forward]

oh...

[the camera is lifted and wedged more tightly into position, but the ghost is horrifically out of focus]

hi, um.... this is napstablook... um...

i wrote a song about a month or two ago and i've been working on it for a while.... i was thinking....

um... i finished it if you want to listen... uh, click away if you don't, that's fine too....

[they hit a few buttons on their computer, and the song begins to play, with haunting, not quite vague lyrics.]

it's um... it's still a little rough but um yeah... there it is...

those amazing sound effects were gathered by miss coralinejones, aren't they great?

anyway, thank you for your time..... um... let me know what you think....um...

sorry...

[the video feed cuts out abruptly]
slapfight: (△ sweet jumpin' jelly bean)
[personal profile] slapfight
 [HERE'S PERIDOT, looking like a kid in a candy store at this point, she's got her face pressed to her omnitool for a brief moment before she adjusts the screen enough so that it's not a close-up of her pores- if she had pores- and shows more of her head, and, more importantly, the hustle and bustle of the strip behind her.]

Wonderland Log #3. 

We're in the middle of a new event, one that seems to be rather... recreational in nature. At first I was apprehensive. Wonderland rarely puts us in events that are meant strictly for our own enjoyment, but after careful analysis, it does appear to be exactly what it is- a, as Earth ones say, vacation

[her voice rises in excitement]
And since my defection, I have never been farther than the Earth's moon. I can only imagine how amazing the rest of the universe is when I'm not viewing it through Homeworld's lens! This is going to be great! 

But fear not, my fellow victims to Wonderland's machinations. I know the wider galaxy is a vast mystery to Earthlings, so I'll be happy to act as an interpreter and guide. It may not be a system I'm familiar with, but heh. If you've seen one space hub, you've seen-

[Peridot's eyes track something on her left and she lets out a gasp of delight.] Oh my stars, what is that? Those are the most amazing shirts I've ever seen. The appearance modifiers here are so streamlined and elegant.  I must have them.

[and the feed clicks off, mid-log while Peridot rushes to a clothing store to indulge her inner fashionista.]
wriggedywrecked: by <user name="bureiku"> (i've got opinions about horses and you)
[personal profile] wriggedywrecked
[It's Tiny Rick! Your favorite guy. That lovable teenage fucko. He's standing up on one of the beds and holding out his phone like he wants to take a selfie as he broadcasts, mostly so he can gesture at the camera with his free hand.]

Alright, li-listen up, preschoolers. I know ev-everyone wants to have fun in the Silent Hill lab with the pudding monsters, being children and what the fuck ever, b-but this is not all f-fun and games and endless disappointments from Konami. Dr. A and Frisk h-have explained this whole, the whole creepy lab and creepy pudding things, but I'm here to tell you about this kid bullshit. That's right, fuckos, we-we've got, got two goddamn simultaneous fucking events on our hands, and it's, it's complete fucking, it's bullshit. Tiny Rick was a fan-favorite, and we, we already fucking tempted fate enough with rehashing the whole stolen cable plot, but fuck it, I-I guess this is just how the network's gonna run things now. Grind it into the dirt t-till no one cares anymore, right? Fuck you. D-Do you have any idea how much Werner Herzog fucking costs?

[He's getting off track, so he pauses and clears his throat.]

I-If you've been turned into a kid, y-you are not in your right body. This is not the r-real me and it's not the real you either, but you're, you're gonna try damn fucking hard to convince yourself it is, because it's real fucking tempting to, to get your youth back and relive the glory days, lemme fucking, fucking tell you. But these are just c...cl...?

[He pauses, frowning, because what the fuck is the word for it?]

...Like, copies, genetic copies, or I dunno, magic--magic bullshit constructs, who the fuck knows with Wonderland. Point is, your real body is slowly dying in a vat somewhere in this lab. You gotta find your vat and transfer your consciousness b-back into your correct body, or--fuck, Wonderland might kill us or m-make us all go through puberty again. No one wants that. No one in the entire goddamn world wants that. Trust me, it's not worth it.

[As Rick's talking, something takes shape behind him. It looks kind of like a tall, white spoon. It doesn't really do anything, just sort of hovers translucently on the opposite side of the bed from him. When he pauses and glances back over his shoulder, the thing vanishes.]

Uh...so yeah. Avoid pudding monsters, f-find your vat, get back into your real body. And if you need help remembering that you're not supposed to be a kid, listening to Elliott Smith seems to work. I-I've got his entire discography on my phone.

[He pulls said phone away and plays himself off with a sad song.]
drummeintheface: (And your mouth)
[personal profile] drummeintheface
[The screen is a blur of flurried movement, and whatever that sound is, it's high pitched and distorted. Evidently, someone is shaking their device. When it finally stills, Greg's staring in, face flush with excitement, panting from happy screeching.]

THIS IS THE BEST EVENT I'VE EVER SEEN! WHO WANTS TO BE MY BEST FRIENDS?!

[Welcome to Kidland, population a bunch of kids and multidogs who are all BEST. FRIENDS.]
drummeintheface: (What you came here for)
[personal profile] drummeintheface
cw: drowning )

---

[Greg wakes up in his room. His first thought is that he's sick, because something feels wrong, and he doesn't remember going to sleep. Usually if that happens it's because he fell asleep in the car on the ride home from Grandma's, or because he had a fever. So he's probably sick.

But slowly, he remembers. He was going to the next room and he was supposed to...tell Wirt he got there, right? Oh no. Wirt's gonna be mad he fell asleep. He better send his message fast.

When Greg peers into the screen, his face is flushed and he's lost his teapot, but he otherwise looks okay. He takes a deep breath, then:]


Dirt! High afraid sit! Army book way?

[He looks a bit sheepish, suddenly. Apologetic.]

Sir my flip slip.
henrydaniel: (✍ 28)
[personal profile] henrydaniel
[ Henry has not been on the network (except to raise the alarm that a homicidal person was in the library throwing bombs or something) in a while. He's managed to offend people with the word 'monsters' and then asked something really stupid to everyone when he needed advice. But now, at least, he thinks what he has to say is less weird and/or offensive.

Turning the video feed on, he holds up a golden pair of shears. ]


Has anyone ever seen anything like this before? They were in my stocking for Christmas. I guess they're an expensive pair of scissors or...shears? Fancy word.

[ He opens and closes them, turning them over in his hand. ]

So, any famous pairs of scissors in anyone's world out there? Maybe somehow our stories overlap if so.

[ Henry apparently doesn't know that much about fate and destiny and Greek mythos other than his trip to the Underworld. But clearly, these will be important in the future. He just doesn't know how. ]
singloversing: Into the Ocean - Blue October (Relaxed and floated into space)
[personal profile] singloversing
--No, no, no! Ugh, seriously?

[At first everything is dark, but then there are little shifts that produce light until finally something is lifted off of the camera and Wirt is there, looking down at the camera with some mild concern. There's a Norton Anthology of English literature in his hands (volume two, first edition).]

I hope I didn't break it...what even happens when you break these things anyway?

[He doesn't seem to realize that the camera has been turned on, and isn't paying attention to the little red recording light. Instead, he sets his book aside in a tall stack - a stack that fell right on the network device earlier. Satisfied that it won't fall again, Wirt turns his attention back to his notebook. He reads his work quietly, but just loud enough to be picked up by his network device.]

Hm...alright, so.

Wonderland's eternal winter,
thawed for mere moments,
into a lush greenery and warmth
that spreads through each limb and vein
tingling in fingers and toes.

And in that reprieve of winter
I forget myself.
I mix and swirl with what both is
and is not me,
dwell on what I am
and what I never was.

I am a raging river
waiting for the world to freeze again--


[He stops and frowns.] Wait. That's dumb. Water still moves under ice...

[For a moment, he tries to think of a way to save it, but in the end he scribbles out the last stanza entirely. He still doesn't seem to realize he's being recorded.]
wriggedywrecked: (one hundred years rick and morty dot com)
[personal profile] wriggedywrecked
[The camera is bouncing along rhythmically as its owner walks, and is broadcasting a lovely view of the first floor hallway. It's some kind of weird over the shoulder shot, because the hallway is receding away as Rick continues forward. There's what appears to be a very long trail of wetness leading back a good fifty or so yards down the hallway, and occasionally a red container of some kind will swing partially into view.]

[Rick curses and the view turns over several times as he tries to get the camera positioned the right way. He ends up settling on tucking it sort of under his arm so that the camera is facing up toward his face. Though he's not looking at the camera--he's looking straight ahead, and he is very clearly just as exhausted as everyone else is for this event.]

[He also looks fairly crazed. And he's accompanied by the occasional splashing sound.]


See, that's how th-th-they make it authentic. M-Make it so y-y-you think your phone is working. But it's, it's fucking logic. Y-You're not exactly, uh, g-gonna get Facebook out in the middle of space. Fucking...fucking amateurs.

[He pauses and sucks in a rather frantic-sounding breath through his teeth.]

I mean, I-I knew it was too good to be true. T-Too fucking good to be true. I-I'm suddenly back here? Just like, like, like fucking that? After all that goddamn b-b-bullshit? No fucking way. It's obvious. Only--god fuck, you can't just, just overload the processors l-l-like with the, with the, the, those--the Sigerians, you kn-know? N-Not enough people here to...

Anyway, I'm just fucking explaining this t-to empty air. N-None of you are even real. N-None of this is f-fucking real. Oh my god, what are th-they doing to me?

[He starts giggling a little.]

Too, hahahaha, too fucking bad they, they, they wouldn't have enough processing power to write self-preservation scripts for a-about a hundred or so fake people, right? Mis-fucking-calculation, c-cause guess what happens when you get allllll those fake people to fake burn simultaneously? Bet they weren't expecting this shit. Bet they weren't expecting ol' Rick to still have a f-fucking ace up his sleeve! They don't get to fucking play games with me! They wanna tangle with Rick, well, surprise fucko, n-not enough cooling units on your fucking station to deal with this!!

Haha, t-talk about melting a few CPUs, a-am I right? Am I right?

[There's the sound of the last drops of liquid leaving a container, then a hollow clunk as said container is dropped onto the floor.]

Fuck, I'm gonna need more. Sh-Should have switched off the closet subroutines, huh?

[ooc: anyone who would like to stop Rick from burning down the mansion is free to find him on the first floor :) otherwise, he's going to pass out pretty soon and the worst anyone will have to deal with is a lingering smell of gasoline.]
doorkey: ([Happy] Pride)
[personal profile] doorkey
[ When Coraline wakes up, peeks outside her door and sees that the halls are decked in fluffy white garlands, she knows that Christmastime has finally caught up with the mansion. It's still fairly quiet at this hour of the morning, and she's positively gleeful to have that first taste of holiday magic all to herself for a little while. The decorations are awfully classy this year, all shimmering white, even if it seems an omen for long winter to come.

Pleased as punch, and very much in the spirit of things, she practically skips back to her closet and rummages around just beyond the halloween costumes and a collection of fall sweaters and heavier jackets for lilac tights, a leotard from events long past, and a fluffy ballerina's tutu with a hairpiece wreath of candied plums and frosted flowers. There are slippers somewhere amid the collection of boots, she just needs to dig them out...

Then, after she's changed, Coraline snatches up a wind up music box snowglobe from the shelf just above, and hurries downstairs to the empty ballroom.

Today, all the late risers will get to wake up to a gentle, familiar tinkling melody coming from their various message devices, and video taken from a chair propped up at the far corner of the ballroom. The music box must be settled closeby, because it covers up most of her humming-along, even though the empty ballroom carries a magnificent echo.

Because her mother's never had patience or time to sign her up for dancing school lessons, Coraline's never actually been trained for ballet, aside from a few glorious days at Gold Crown Academy, years ago.

But she's seen The Nutcracker broadcasted plenty of times on television before, and once in a live theatre for a school field trip. She knows just enough to flounce around pretending, pitching herself into freeform movement, eyes shut as she twirls, tip-toe leaping around the floor with her feet turned out, and splaying her arms through various poses in her very best amateur imitation of a prima ballerina's grace.]
plutonicideals: (313_19971 copy)
[personal profile] plutonicideals
[The video starts a little shaky, but that's mostly because she hit 'record' a little too soon and it evens out pretty fast.]

Okay. So. What is your favorite kind of pie, and what are your thoughts on pie? I promise this won't be as random as it sounds later.
determinedest: (* All you can do is FIGHT.)
[personal profile] determinedest
[The feed, when it clicks on, does not have highly auspicious beginnings. The lens is tilted skyward, granting everyone a lovely shot of the iron-gray sky. It's been raining. You can almost smell the peppery sting of petrichor, the clinging of the after-dew to blades of grass.

With the soft tick of someone's fingers fumbling over the microphone, the camera tips down until the visual is of a grassy field just outside the gardens. It's a spot Frisk commonly frequents, even as the weather grows colder.

Speaking of Frisk, they take their time adjusting the picture before they eventually enter the frame. They've got their overlarge jacket on and the cap of white wool perched on their head, and a familiar object in their hands. They settle down with their back to the camera, the slender tip of their ukulele peeking out by their shoulder, as they begin to play the instrument with slow, deliberate strums from their bandaged fingers.

Maybe you've heard the tune before.

When the impromptu performance is finished, Frisk turns their face to the camera. Their expression is as contained as always, but not, as it has been for a disproportionately long time, wholly devoid of emotion. Their eyes, when they flick them up to at last to regard the lens directly, are a dark and rusted red, perhaps a few shades darker than Chara's. They can't maintain the proverbial eye contact for long, and their eyes shutter to half-mast again.]


I've been acting kind of weird lately.

[Kind of weird. Between the way they tore through the world, mined all the numbers from the workings of the g̵̜͍ͦ̎̚͘á͉̄̇̂͠ͅm͏̨̨̬̖̋̚e̶̛̪ͤ᷅͂͝ they Played, the way they couldn't feel anything - Chara gone, and now the absence aches like a scab torn newly open, a limb newly cracked in two.

They've probably already...

Yes. Probably. If they found out, that is. Leonard needs to know it wasn't his fault. A lot of people need to know it wasn't their fault. Chara. Sans. Alphys. Ford. Mabel. Dipper. Stanley. Zacharie.

Mettaton.]


Sorry.

[A blanket apology, not nearly sufficient, and then a pause. It's not clear to where their gaze redirects itself, or if it does at all; their stare is flat, and difficult to perceive.]

...I'm better now.

[One corner of their mouth lifts in a smile, a reassuringly organic expression.

Then the video ends.]
krmvgivv: mabel (zmysterytwins1)
[personal profile] krmvgivv
[OH LOOK IT’S THOSE PINES TWINS AGAIN. Both of them looking Very Serious. Or at least like they mean business… Mabel pretty much looks like she’s trying to be serious and failing at it, really.

There’s a menorah between them.]


Hey, Wonderfriends. It’s me, Mabel, and my brother Dipper! And I bet you’re wondering what this thing is. [She points enthusiastically at the menorah.]

Considering how completely overwhelmingly escapable Christmas is, it's pretty likely. [Dipper rolls his eyes, then pulls a dreidel out of his vest pocket.] That's why we're here to show all you goyim you something holiday specials usually leave out: the meaning of Hanukkah!

[He sets the dreidel spinning.]

Look at it go! Does Christmas have this kind of magic? No, it doesn’t! Plus there’s eight days of Hanukkah… But we’ll get to that in a second. [She slaps a drawing pad on the desk.] Brother, if you would start us off, please.

AND SO THE TALE IS TOLD )

[Anyone who heads down to the kitchen can follow the smell of frying potatoes to where the twins are experimenting with cooking. There are definitely at least a few burned panfuls, and come at the wrong time and something might be on fire. But there are enough successful attempts that there are delicious latkes and sour cream and apple sauce for as many people as want them.]

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