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.
burntvideocassette: (camera in mirror)
[personal profile] burntvideocassette
[The camera's pointed at Jay's shoes. Wherever he is, it's carpeted, and it's at least somewhat well-lit. When he finally speaks, it's at a whisper and oddly flat.]

If anyone was thinking about using the last house on...Lakeview Drive for shelter...

[A gas can swings into view, and a narrow stream of gasoline leaks from the spout onto the carpet. The camera tilts for a second, revealing a well-furnished suburban bedroom with lazy gasoline loops painted across both the floor and the bed.]

...Don't.

[Jay starts down the stairs, trailing fuel behind him.]

Don't get anywhere near this place. If you're looking for me, [He tries and fails to suppress a cough. The fumes must be getting to him.] I won't be around either.

[He's in the living room now. Jay pans the camera across the room--couches, coffee table, TV, stereo--before dribbling the last of the gasoline across the floor and up to an open window. He tosses the can aside.]

Last warning.

[Jay reaches up to the inactive stereo, twisting the volume dial as low as it can go. Hand visibly trembling, he switches it on. Nothing. Good. He switches the input to "radio". His breathing is audible now, high and ragged.

He twists the volume knob, and the speakers come to life with the deafening roar of...well, you win some, you lose some.

Jay bolts from the house, leaving the front door hanging open.

There's chaos for a moment, leaves hit the camera lens, and then Jay's looking down from a reasonably sized oak tree. A corpse shambles into view, heading straight for the house. Jay cuts the feed.]


[OOC: Jay has just attempted to create walker-bait out of the last house at the end of a dead-end street. Very loud, very flammable walker-bait. He's stolen Tim's lighter, and he's planning to shut the front door and light the place up through the window once enough bodies find their way inside.

Feel free to use this post to yell at him/cheer him on/try to stop him/try to help him.]
shorthair: (shiver the whole night through)
[personal profile] shorthair
[ ooc: consider this a party post. feel free to tag around as much as you want to others, chiming in and giving advice. be anonymous like clementine or don't be anonymous, up to you. cw for underage drinking, probably mentions of violence, death, etc. ]

( the first time clementine ever had a drink, it was in a shed with nick. they thought they were going to die. it was the grossest thing she'd ever tasted. burned down her throat. moonshine. the second time, it was rum while they all sat in a circle, toasting to the people they'd lost. the third time, it was rum with coke when she checked in on shaun after georgia left.

the fourth time, it's rum again with coke, and she's had a little more than an eleven year old should, but she hit the anonymous function on the post before writing )


how do you deal with all the bullshit life throws at you?

like death and losing and surviving and wonderland and assholes and babies

and cannibals.

or whatever else you've been through. too much free time here.


( definitely feeling the rum now. but with the alcohol, it's like she's finally found some feeling she's been missing. her eyes burn. trust has become so hard that she doesn't trust anyone completely, because everyone has their own priorities. it's how the world works. it's what she's learned. iris is gone. everyone died back home. she has a newborn to take care of there. she's still got walker blood in her veins like michonne, like georgia and shaun have zombie blood in them. when she dies, she'll turn into one too unless someone shoots her first or she does it herself. and she doesn't know how to have emotions anymore. things should reach her and they don't. or maybe she just doesn't let them, and she can't tell the goddamn difference. )
guncocked: (I'm still mad as hell)
[personal profile] guncocked
[Unsurprisingly, Wynonna is clearly sitting at a bar as she takes this video. She even holds up a shot.]

Cheers to waking up in strange weird places without even the excuse of blacking out the night before.

[she downs the shot.]

Now that I've got that out of the way I have a question -- are the people here selected randomly? I mean, they could have taken anyone in the world, I can't see why they would take me.

[Yes she can, she's the Earp heir, but she's not going to just advertise that to everyone. ]

I'm sorry if you've heard that one before, I tried to be original and not do the whole okay who is doing this, why am I here, how do I get home, I demand answers spiel. That has to get hella boring after a while.

[there's a pause and then.]

If you have any answers to those questions, however, I wouldn't say no to them. Even better, come down to...I think it was marked Damon's Bar? Anyway, come share a round of shots, fill me in on anything I need to know, it's sad to drink alone, especially when you've just been kidnapped.

Do a girl a solid, would you?

[feel free to respond via action or video, I'm open to both.]
dramatic: (ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ᴡʜʏ)
[personal profile] dramatic
( guess who found the ice cream/soda bar? yeah, it's this girl.

she's processing the whole pocket dimension thing pretty well. even if she wasn't, she wouldn't show you. whaddya take her for?

mj does love being where all the action is. sure, there's the stuck-here-until-the-powers-that-be choose otherwise, but as scarlett o'hara once stated wisely, tomorrow is another day. wonderland's spookiness sounds like tomorrow!mj's problem. maybe. it's hard to get her to take most things seriously.

so have a sparkly and glamorous redhead coming to you live from the ballroom. )


Hiya, Wonderlanders. MJ Watson with a very important question here.

Looks like I'm not going anywhere, so — what's the best floor to live on? What's the worst? Don't skimp on details. If I'm going to need a room and I can make it look any way I want, then I've got to start by making sure I'm on the right floor.

Spill.

( she likes hearing people's opinions. will probably disregard 95% of them, tho. )

video;

Jun. 5th, 2017 09:55 am
agentxthirteen: (07: stop me if you've heard this)
[personal profile] agentxthirteen
For anyone who wants to talk about the most recent event and compare notes, we're meeting in the tea rooms on the second floor tomorrow at three pm.

There will be snacks. If you want anything more significant than what the tea rooms provide, then bring your own. [ I.e., if Mick wants alcohol, he needs to bring his own. ]

We'll be talking about what happened, why it might have happened, what went wrong, and how we can prevent similar mistakes in future events.

Hope to see you there.
thisismadfreaky: (So much guilt)
[personal profile] thisismadfreaky
[The video is set on one Cisco Ramon, looking rather worse for wear. He's scrolled back, skimmed things he's missed-- saw George's article-- he knows everything is out on the table already, but... but it's not the same when it's from a different source. When it's not straight from the horse's mouth. And... he owes them at least that much. More. So much more, but at the very least, that.

Iris had offered to interview him, give him the voice he didn't get to have when he wasn't here, but he refused. Not because he didn't appreciate the idea, the gesture, he did. And maybe he should have let her do it, because maybe she could put it all in better words than he can, it is her job, after all. But it's the sense of responsibility that he carries for what transpired and spiraled out of control because of his own, misplaced and selfish actions that makes him turn the offer down. He wants to do it, own it and let the cards fall where they may because of it. And it will be bad. He expects that much. Expects the hatred and the vitriol, yelling and condemnation, questions and criticisms. Nothing about this is something he wants to do, to deal with, but he has to. He knows he has to, it's entirely unavoidable.

This position isn't a completely foreign or unfamiliar one, it's one he's been in before. After the particle accelerator explosion. Science'd too hard, it went sideways, people were hurt. It's a pattern at this point, and he's learned his lesson now. But it's all too little, too late, because people have been hurt. People have been killed. That blood is on his hands, and it will never really come clean.

There's a flutter in his stomach and it isn't the nervous kind, but the violent kind, paired with a tightness like a vice grip that burns in his chest. He doesn't even know what to say, where to start. He clears his throat and he can barely look at the camera to address the invisible audience.]


For those of you...who don't know me, my name is Cisco Ramon. The... [His gaze drops, but it's brief, just long enough to collect himself before he looks at the camera again. Despite it, though, his voice is shaky, unsteady, thick with emotion--mostly guilt.] Event, if you want to call it that, that we just had is the fault of no one but my own. Dr. Fitz...had his plans, but he didn't know my true intent. I sabotaged months of work and research for my own agenda. An...agenda that, ultimately, was never real, and only the work of fabrications from a mirror who manipulated me-- [He pauses and shakes his head, corrects the statement.] no, who...I blindly trusted for months on a lie. A lie that...was so clever, and matched up so perfectly to something I'd been doubting for awhile, that I had no ch-- no reason not to believe it, at the time.

[He stares down at his hands, hanging loosely between his knees, where he's leaning forward just a little. He feels sick. Things he'd seen--blood, there had been so much--when his captors chose to show him the results of what he'd done, forced him to watch from the mirrors the chaos that ensued because of his own, selfish actions, are all too close to the front of his mind, but he pushes it all down. He can deal with it later.

Again, he looks back at his audience.]
My mistakes, my...emotional-driven choices led to catastrophic disaster and....for whatever it's worth, I take responsibility for that. I...I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix it, I can't fix it, but-- I'll do whatever it takes t- to make this right. Somehow. [Belatedly, as an afterthought:] And I'm not...I'm not touching a project like this again.

[Again, for whatever it's worth. He knows it doesn't change anything, it doesn't validate any of his actions, but he can't change the past-- ha, the irony of that-- he can only move forward in whatever miniscule increments he can manage. People will be angry, and they have the right to be, he won't begrudge them that. They should be angry. He risked them. All of them, for one person. For a lie. Nothing any of them could say is worse than what he's already thought to himself, and no one here can hate him more than he hates himself.]

I- I'm sorry. [A tear rolls down his cheek and he ducks his head, leaning forward to cut the feed off and it goes black.]

[Note: I'M SORRY, I COULDN'T WAIT, SO IT'S LIKE TINY BIT FWD-DATED! I'm an impatient child, I'm sorry. Plz feel free to threadjack, shitpost, defend him, rage at him, go wild, guys!]
uncoils: (What a jagged little pill)
[personal profile] uncoils
[After giving it a few days to make sure things are back to normal, it's probably time to own up to where the other half of the event came from. So here's Jolyne looking pretty glum about the whole thing.]

In case you guys were wondering, or want somebody to blame, the zombies were from my world. And yeah, it sucked just as much when it happened before.

[...if not moreso, since here you could jump into tears and move around. Those weren't options in prison. Also nobody was controlling them here, which...she's still not sure if that's better or worse.]

So, sorry. Is that what you do when these things happen?

[She's not really sure. But invisible zombies sound like something she should definitely apologize for.]

Hopefully, you guys won't have to deal with anything else from my world? That was one of the worst ones...I think. Well, except for the snails...and...uh...

[Maybe she should stop talking.]

Look, I swear there's not a lot of stuff that's going to be that bad.

[She's not really convinced, but that seems like a good place to end the feed, so that's what she does.]
adaptiveimmunities: (don't mention her name)
[personal profile] adaptiveimmunities
For the time being please direct all inquiries regarding The Shattered Mirror's newsie and fictional divisions to this blog. Georgia Mason and Georgette Meissonier have both disappeared from Wonderland.

And as a personal side note, with both of my co-editors MIA, I'm not going to be in any kind of mood to deal with bullshit, so if we could keep any "it'll be okay," and "they'll probably be back" or whatever to a minimum, that would be fantastic.

Thanks.

video;

Apr. 9th, 2017 07:28 pm
justmakeroom: (with the movement of time)
[personal profile] justmakeroom
[ Michonne has been in Wonderland for a long time, much longer than Andrea. And she's formed a lot of strong connections here, she's reached out more often than Andrea has. She's changed in so many ways for the better, in ways that Andrea wants to here.

And now she's...gone. Not permanently, but for now, for an indeterminate amount of time. ]


If you know Michonne, she's...gone. Her stuff is still here, at least. I know she's close to a few people here so I wanted to just...reach out.

[ She thinks about what else she could possibly say. She can't fill the void Michonne leaves behind, but she can make her own offer. ]

If you wanna talk or need anything, I'm on the eighth floor, room 24. [ Michonne's room, of course. ]
choosetruth: (this is the story we needed to write)
[personal profile] choosetruth
Are you happy here?

Don't answer immediately. Take a minute to think about it. It's a complicated question. The concept of happiness is vague and hard to define, especially if we try and generalize it for all people. Certainly, there are moments of joy to be had here. As far as cages go, the gilding on this one can't be denied. Anything you want for free? The ability to come back to life without a hunger for human flesh? Eternal youth? No one is starving to death here. Everyone has a bed and a roof. Compared to a lot of the places people come from, this place is downright utopian even including the events. I know I'm dead at home. That's almost enough to counterbalance the lack of internet. Almost.

There are a lot of reasons to be happy here. All we're giving up is freedom, and how many of us even really have that at home? It's the permanent all-expenses-paid resort vacation no one asked for, and time isn't moving so it's not like we're even missing anything.

You know who was especially happy here? The people who lived in the Wonderland we all dreamed about in December. The ones who didn't remember ever living anywhere else. Talk about a happy ending. No one fighting, no one in pain, everyone living every day in pure, ignorant bliss.

I've called Wonderland a lie before, and I maintain it, but it's the worst sort of lie because it's so very tempting to believe it. Would it really be so bad to give in and just be happy? Why fight it when it isn't our call, when we are powerless to do anything but try and survive whatever Wonderland throws at us?

I say bliss is overrated. What's the point of being happy when you aren't yourself anymore? Is it really a vacation if you have no choice but to take it? There's so much here that we know isn't right. If we give in to being happy, we risk complacency, and if we get complacent, we risk losing the opportunity to rise up when we can.

I'm not saying you shouldn't enjoy the good times Wonderland gives us. God knows they're few and far between. Be happy. Just never forget everything Wonderland gives us is the equivalent of giving a favorite pet a nice toy. Wonderland is pampering us because it is using us. The minute we forget that is the minute Wonderland owns us. None of us are free. Never forget that.

So am I happy here?

It doesn't fucking matter.
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.
]
determinedest: (* We can go and see the real stars now.)
[personal profile] determinedest
[This kid's been busy, it turns out. Very busy. It's Valentine's Day, as most everyone is in all likelihood well aware, and for the first few moments of the broadcast, they appear to be quite busy with something, tongue stuck between their teeth, brow furrowed with concentration.

Eventually they glance up, however, and hold up a simple heart cut out of red construction paper. They appear to have been in the process of drawing myriad swirls along the edges. They were going for something reminiscent of a lace pattern, but results are...inconclusive.]


If anyone needs valentines, I made... [A brief pause, and they duck out of sight, only to return with an armful of hearts of every color in the rainbow.] I, um, I have a lot extra.

[But that's just the first purpose of their broadcast. The second is something they've been hard at work on for some time. A combination of careful observation, idle speculation, and wheedling questions has yielded some interesting results, and it's about time those were documented.]

And there's something else, too.

[For a brief moment, they form a fingergun with their free hand, one maroon eye winking shut in a gesture that was, in all likelihood, meant to emerge as flirtatious but simply ends up comically overexaggerated. And then...then they upload the file.]


OFFICIAL WONDERLAND COUPLES

TORIEL + MISS SHEPARD = MOM SQUAD
JAMES + LILY = HAPPILY MARRIED
ALPHYS + UNDYNE = FISHY LOVE
METTATON + CARDBOARD CUTOUT OF HIMSELF = LOVE YOURSELF
QUEEN OF HEARTS + FINDING SOME CHILL = FROZEN HEART
DUCHESS + HER HEAD = BUSY NECKING
ALPHYS + STANFORD PINES = CHEMISTRY TOGETHER
HENRY MILLS + MABEL PINES = FAIRY TALES DO COME TRUE
SANS + A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP = SWEET DREAMING
KURT WELLER + JANE DOE = FORGOTTEN LOVE
FRISK + EVERYONE = THE FRIEND ZONE
ELENA GILBERT + DAMON SALVATORE = EPIC LOVE STORY
QUEEN OF HEARTS + THE DUCHESS = FEEL THE TENSION
BONNIE BENNETT + PETER PARKER = YOLKING AROUND
DIPPER PINES + CLEMENTINE = UNDEAD MYSTERIES
SARAH WELLER + RAY PALMER = SWEET SCIENCE

[And yes, they will very much be monitoring any and all chatter that goes on within, so they may update their couples list accordingly. Go hog wild, Wonderland.]

video

Feb. 10th, 2017 07:34 pm
shivving: (angry)
[personal profile] shivving
public

[ When Joel's face appears on the screen, he's not screaming. He's not stalking the room in rage or setting the library on fire.

He is calm. Eerily so. He glares unblinking into the camera, brow furrowed, silent just long enough to become unsettling.

He has the look of a man who hasn't slept in the last twenty-four hours. ]


I know it's probably the mansion what took Ellie. That more'n likely, none of you had anything to do with it.

If I find out otherwise, I will kill whoever's responsible.

[ end feed. ]


private to tess

Tess.
shorthair: where the sun never shines (in the pines)
[personal profile] shorthair
[Forward dated to the latter half of day 3. Clementine's been surviving like she always does, but nothing could have prepared her for discovering Georgia and Shaun- No, they're- they're zombies, and they're not themselves anymore. She's trying not to shake while she holds the fucking network post, because what the hell are they going to do?

This whole place is gonna turn into- into zombies, and if she dies, she's gonna just add to it. Her voice is harsh, strained, desperate to be heard. She's only partially in the frame of the video itself, checking the ammo in her gun.]


Don't kill the zombies in the water.

It's- It's Georgia and Shaun, and if you kill those zombies, their juices get in the water and anyone that touches that water will be infected too. We'll all be screwed, okay?

Just don't- We gotta find another way, and killing them up close isn't really smart either, but if you shoot them and they splatter- [Fuck. It's hard talking about them like this. People aren't gonna get it or they'll think she's just callous and hard, and she is because she has to be. Carver said she was like him, because sometimes- sometimes she has to be like him, hard, willing to kill without flinching.]

I'm gonna figure it out.


Private to Iris

[her voice goes softer when she's not addressing a big crowd of people that she needs to convince to listen to her. it's iris so it's different, and she slides a hand behind her neck, wincing.]

I ran into them while I was trying to make it to you so I couldn't really make it to you. Yet.
shorthair: lonely bones come a calling (lonely shadows following me)
[personal profile] shorthair
[ Clementine debated a lot on whether or not she should use video or text. People see a kid, and they already feel a certain way about that. It might have them keeping some truths to themselves, and it's important that she get all the information she can for this article. It's a matter of life or death. These zombies end up in Wonderland? People will be dropping like flies unless they already know how to deal with it.

However, Georgia talks about truth a lot and how important it is, and the truth is Clementine's a kid who has lived through 2 years of zombies and an apocalypse. It's the truth, and she's been through plenty of shit because of it. She finally decides to do video. She's clearly seated in the library with a notebook at her side and a bunch of recording devices she's only just learned how to use.]


Hi, I'm Clementine. I'm an intern with After the End Times with Georgia and Shaun.

I'm writing a paper about people's zombies or walkers or whatever you call them in your world. If you have the dead coming back to life and trying to eat people, I want to know about it. I want to interview you about it.

I get I'm a kid, but I've already lived through some shit. [She winces. Cursing is probably not professional.] My world's had walkers for over two years.

Don't hold back with me. People will die if this shit's- [GAH] stuff's not right. This is how we can keep people safe when Wonderland gives us an event from one of our worlds. We gather the information. We share it. We teach people how to survive. Even if you come from my world, you might have some tips on survival that I don't know yet so I want to talk to you too.

We can talk here or you can meet me at the library. Georgia said she'd be checking in too so don't be surprised if she pops in on the interview since I'm still learning how to do this part.

action option )
determinedest: (* Please forget about me.)
[personal profile] determinedest
[The last time they woke like this it was on a bed of golden flowers, silk-soft and the petals still crisp with a long-dead magic. They strain for a whiff of memory, the bittersweet cinnamon-sawdust-y scent of an old spell woven deep into the fabric of the atoms in the soil and worms and rocks.

...what? You didn't do that?


Once upon a time, a quiet voice murmured seven words to the squarish, boxy thing in their hands, fighting to keep the tremor from their tone as they intoned, evenly - I fell. I need a way back.

Once upon a time, two children scrapped in a hallway, a goose egg raised on their foreheads with forceful the collision of skulls. A Locket traded over, a contract burned and a new one writ into existence in the same instant. Once upon a time, there was a mansion that rose in stately silhouette, and memories fell from the sky in delicate filigrees of gold. A place where two children would scramble to claw into place a pair of lives that have long since fallen into disarray and dissolution, a Room 12 that swung between doubly occupied and wholly abandoned, just like the SOULs that resided within it. There are stories one can tell of stolen switchblades and careful bandages and words dipped in red, and the second chances promised to a pair of children who met with clasped hands at the edge of something broken and wished to repair it. There are stories of a pair of SOULs that hummed in tandem, of a scarlet tint and a gleam in their hearts, and the lion-hearted desire that no one else live the way they lived. They gained love and they gained LOVE, and at the end of it all, despite everything -

* It's still us.

A camera wobbles as it's steadied, positioned carefully on a table, facing the window of a room. There's a potted plant on the sill - forget-me-nots - and the curtains are half-drawn, leaving only a thin slice of opaque winter sky visible.

Immediately after, a small child scrambles into frame. They're wearing a hand-knitted sweater, and they've their instrument in hand, as always. Inevitably, they begin to play. There are no words to this melody, and thus the notes are much crisper, and it comes together with a clarity that the pieces they've played before have lacked thus far, a sense of polish and familiarity. It is, after all, a very familiar tune.

It sounds like Home.

Once they finish, they take a moment to run bandaged fingertips up the bridge of the instrument. Then they shoot a look at the camera, one reddish eye slitted open so they can smile.]


It's been a year.

[Their hair is longer, more unkempt. They've got bandages on their hands now, perpetually. They've got fresh scars along the lengths of their arms, some on their thighs. They've died twice over, once because of sickness and once because of a misplaced weapon and misplaced guilt, and they've watched friends filter into the world and then disperse once more like scattered motes of dust.

But they've got a sweater, and they have someone to teach them to play and care for their ukulele, and they have a sack full of candy. They have people who left them gifts when they were alone, who cared for their SOUL though it was dry and weary, and people who helped paint their room. They have people who offer hugs and moments of understanding and advice about the nature of the game they play and slices of butterscotch pie.

Above all else, they have - determination.]


Thank you.

[Thank you, Wonderland.

They thought they would be saying goodbye now. But it's not the end of the world.

So they won't blame themself.]
lamiae: (┈ hundred + forty-eight.)
[personal profile] lamiae
[ it took her forever to hit send on this one, agonizing over whether or not she really wanted to hear the myriad of potential responses. she talked to bonnie (and to some degree, daenerys) about it last month, but there's a part of her that's curious -- that wants to know where the rest of the mansion stands. ]

i'm not homesick.
i'd like to find a way out, but i don't really want to go home.
is that bad?

text;

Jan. 12th, 2017 10:37 am
breacher: (is there fall damage in this game?)
[personal profile] breacher
Is anyone else unfortunate enough to have someone leave puddles trailing throughout their room as well as the hallway outside, or is that just me? I suppose this doubles as a general PSA that if you're on the fourth floor, beware of rogue puddles left by a particular person.

This person might look suspiciously like Barry Allen.

And no. I'm not talking about his mirror.
demonstrate: (wonder.)
[personal profile] demonstrate
summary: iris west returns to wonderland. )

[ iris west is a reporter back in her home world, and it's a shame she has not taken advantage of the network as much as she should. tends to happen when you lose yourself digging up info within the network. ten years worth of it. her notes went missing the day she did, so she'll have to start from the ground up.

let us tell you, it won't be easy. but it's also not impossible.

to iris west, impossible is nothing.

once she is more or less settled in and let those closest to her know she has returned, she reaches out to the network.
]

I've got a few questions for you, Wonderland.

Specifically, I have questions for those of you who've been sent home and were brought back. Note: I won't turn down information even if this technically doesn't apply to you. I'll take everything you've got.

1. Were you able to remember anything about Wonderland while you were home?
2. How long were you gone Wonderland-wise, and were all your Wonderland memories intact when you returned?

video

Dec. 8th, 2016 11:28 am
thesamurai: (💀 4)
[personal profile] thesamurai
[ There may or may not be holes in the wall behind her, but considering her complete outrage at Wonderland, she's calmed down significantly. ]

Andrea left.

[ That's it, end of transmission. And even though she didn't get to introduce her to every single person, Michonne talked about her enough. The people close to her know. ]
accelerate: (Default)
[personal profile] accelerate
( BACKDATED TO DEC. 1 )


[ it's evident barry's at the bar — or a bar, given how his phone's sort of sitting on the top of a tipped over bowl that had held peanuts — with a few empty bottles around him. his efforts to get drunk have proven fruitless, but barry allen is determined. ]

So, uh … [ barry looks a little tired, hair a slight mess, but he's not slurring his words. he wishes he was. ] What are you supposed to do when someone leaves? Does time kind of stop? Do rabbit holes appear out of nowhere for people to fall upwards out of?

[ it wasn't really covered in the pamphlet how you're supposed to react when someone just up and disappears. barry's never been good at that. he's tried running and he's almost going to catch a cold with how wet he always is. (his clothes are a little damp from running so fast and him winding up spluttering in the pool.) ]

Iris — Iris West, she went home. [ without him, but that's implied by how his tone drops and then picks up quickly, almost like barry doesn't need to take a breath. ] Can someone bring me a brownie? I kind of ate all the ones I brought with me and all I've got is peanuts. [ he flicks a shell a little too fast, a very brief flash of gold sparking. ] And maybe a broom. I kind of made a mess. Sorry ...
krmvgivv: (ztwins022)
[personal profile] krmvgivv
[SURPRISE. Wonderland’s favorite twins are back and their faces are on your devices, all smiles… Well, Mabel is all smiles, anyway. Dipper is smiling too, though, as usual, he looks a little more subdued. He's also got an entirely different hat than usual. It's Mabel that speaks first, though.]


So bad timing, Wonderland… Or maybe good timing, depending on how you wanna look at it, but Dipper and I were, like, just on a bus going back home to Piedmont, and then suddenly it’s all whaaaat. [she waves her hands in a mock pantomime of her mind being blown.]


Still pretty good to be back though. And, just in case you were sad and missed us while we were gone, I come bearing gifts! ...Technically, it’s a gift for the future, but Future You can thank me somehow. I know time travelers. We can make this happen.


[Dipper shifts forward, grinning.] We all know the worst part of Wonderland, right? The whole memory loss thing. [That and the not aging thing, but Dipper's feeling a little less bad about that than he was. They are growing up. Just… not too fast.]


Well, lucky for all of you, Mabel here is an expert at unerasing memories. [...is that a word? Dipper decides not to worry about it.] Her scrapbooks have literally fixed amnesia.


YUP! [she’s so proud of this, okay.] So I’m gonna be donating all my Wonderland scrapbooks to the gallery. That way if you ever feel like you’ve forgotten something or if you wanna see if one of your friends was here and you missed them or just wanna be reminded of all the times Wonderland isn’t being a jerk, you’ll have something to ease your mind. With sparkly gel pen descriptions! [she leans forward and whispers, conspiratorially] That’s the Mabel difference.


[Dipper raises a finger.] Also, for people whose eyes hurt when they look at things Mabel has written, I've been keeping a very thorough account of all my time here. Those will also be available in the library as I finish them.


[Mabel sticks her tongue out at him.] Neeerd.
determinedest: (* Look at what you've done.)
[personal profile] determinedest
[Based on the shot of the grass and the surrounding floral backdrop, it's clear that the feed has switched on in the garden. The phone itself is buried in the grass, tilted at such an angle that the back of Frisk's head is visible as they bend over a crackling piece of paper.

They've a very - singular look to them today, it seems, complete with an oversized blue jacket reminiscent of the one Sans might typically be seen wearing, the sleeves awkwardly bunched at the elbows where they've been rolled up. On their head is something thick and white and almost woolen - a hat that, on closer inspection, has soft horns and long goatlike ears knitted into it. A gift. Something they haven't worn a single time since Toriel's arrival. It had felt too much like an insult to do so.

But currently, they don't intend for anyone to see or hear this except Napstablook, whom they'd been hoping to impress with how much they'd worked on trying to learn the song the little ghost helpfully wrote out for them. The recording isn't private, however, as they must have intended it to be.

Frisk settles onto the grass, facing mostly away from the recording device. For a moment they pluck idly at the strings of the instrument they're holding, one that the musically-inclined might recognize as a ukulele, before they begin to play. They're clumsy and halting, starting and stopping periodically as they struggle to master the instrument. It is difficult, after all, to play with hands that are perpetually bandaged.

Soon, though, Frisk's wavering voice joins the thrumming of the strings. They are not an experienced singer, nor is their playing perfect. Occasionally they have to stop mid-lyric to adjust their fingering, or to play a part of the song over a bit more smoothly. But the music peels out into the crisp autumn air regardless.

Can you hear it?

For a few minutes after the song's conclusion, Frisk sits there on the hump of grass overlooking the garden, apparently contemplating the empty air in front of them.

Then the feed fades out.]
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[personal profile] choosetruth
My name is Georgia Carolyn Mason. I'm a licensed journalist from After the End Times. Five years ago, on a website that is inaccessible from this location, I started my blog and wrote my mission statement: to always tell the truth no matter the cost. For the past several months I've been following Senator Peter Ryman's presidential campaign and reporting on his progress. For the past few minutes, I had been running for my life after someone blew up my trailer. It turns out that cost was a lot higher than I ever anticipated. And that was just zombies and a government conspiracy. What will the cost be for telling this new truth: that I seem to have woken up in a literal fairytale?

I tested clean five minutes ago, and hallucinations have never been one of the symptoms of Kellis-Amberlee. I'm forced to conclude that this is, indeed happening and not a very strange dream. I would like nothing more than a way to send this information home so that our readers could know about this, but I've done my research. All sources indicate that is, for the time being, impossible. So, I suppose, I'll just have to start reporting here, and know that someday, should the opportunity arise, I'll be able to bring the news home.

In the meantime, if anyone here is a doctor, or even better an epidemiologist or virologist, I have some questions.
lamiae: (— O15)
[personal profile] lamiae
Hi, I'm Beckett.

[ her smile is friendly and warm, but its light doesn't quite reach her eyes. ] I, um— I just got here, which I guess makes me the new girl.

Again.

I was the new girl at my last school. Not that this is a school or anything, but you could say I wanted to be there about as much as I want to be here.

[ perhaps that was a callous thing to say. there were probably people who enjoyed being in wonderland, but it was yet another unwelcome disturbance in beckett's life. she's clever enough to realize that being here did not free her from the fate she was about to suffer. and even if she did, by some miracle, manage to live through the horrifying experience she's had to endure, the scaring left behind would likely never fade. it would either haunt or damn her. ]

Sorry. [ slight grimace. ] I can't be the only person who feels that way.

video;

Aug. 29th, 2016 05:36 pm
actualdad: (pic#10566143)
[personal profile] actualdad
[ He's had his time to realize that this is wrong, that it's not where he should be. He's had his time to wonder how the hell he got here without his lion. He's had his time to panic. He's also had the time to read the pamphlet that was laying mysteriously next to him, along with a communication device.

By the time Shiro decides to broadcast a message, he knows the basics of Wonderland. And honestly, he's not as concerned about any of it as much as he is about his team, his friends, and where they all may have wound up after... the whole mess that happened. Even the pain in his side, the open wounds and the tear in his armour are near the last things on his mind. He doesn't matter right now. The others do.

When the video feed flicks on, he looks calm. His expression is carefully set but for the ever so slight hint of worry contained in his eyebrows. ]


This place looks so much like Earth... A well-kept garden, an actual house, so many other humans... I never thought I'd see anything like this again.

[ Almost makes him nostalgic, to a time that feels like so long ago but in reality is maybe only two years in the past.

No, get back on topic. Shiro shakes his head and focuses on the camera more intently. ]


I have an idea of where I am now. Some kind of other dimension, or something, right? Maybe I should find that weird, but it takes a lot more than this to really shock me these days. I'm not looking for information about "Wonderland". While I won't turn away anything people might have to offer, I have more important questions to ask here.

[ His expression is something almost stern--not unfriendly, per se, but... focused. Determined. ]

My team and I were split up just before I arrived here. It's unlikely, but maybe some of them ended up here like I have. If you've seen anyone with armour identical for mine except for the colour, please let me know. I need to make sure they're okay. And--uh. This might sound... odd, but has anyone seen a robot lion? It'd be bigger than this house, so I'm guessing not, but...

[ Trailing off, a flicker of an emotion that might be distress crosses his face, though it's gone in an instant. ]

Let me know. Thanks.

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