likeseggos: <lj user=easystreet> (pic#10532845)
[personal profile] likeseggos
[what's up it's just eleven chillin' in her cozy basement room. she's sitting on the couch in front of a coffee table where there are some d&d miniature figures and whatnot.]

I met people like me here. Are there more? [she turns her attention to the miniatures, and they levitate off the table, then go flying sideways into the wall.]

I want to meet more people like me. I thought I was alone.
timenssecundus: (neque illic)
[personal profile] timenssecundus
[The video jolts on as the device is knocked to the floor.

It's tilted upward at what seems to be the attic ceiling. Badly framed in the lower corner, one can see a figure sit shock upright. A moment of squinting around in the dim light. Then it held out one empty hand palm-downward. A long, sticklike object leaps, impossibly, on its own from the sidetable up into that palm.

The figure croaks,]


Lumos.

[The tip of the stick abruptly bursts with blinding white light.

By the time the device adjusts its picture settings to the new exposure, the figure has left the bed and is kneeling beside the device, staring at it, touching it just enough that the screen shakes and has a hard time giving an identifiable shot. Whoever it is—human, gaunt, filthy, haunted-looking, with something almost animalistic about his movements.

It's that motion—more than his terribly changed face, which seems to have aged decades (though in fact only months since you last saw him, if you'd ever seen him)—that identifies him to those who knew him before. Those who'd ever seen him right before a full moon.

His eyes lift and stare about the attic.

Then he springs to his feet and shouts something indecipherable.

The light abruptly zooms away from his wand and slams itself into the door. In its dying glow, the man follows it, slashes the wand viciously, and the door flies open with a bang so violent it nearly jars the door off its hinges.

He looks out the doorway. Just barely visible in the abandoned device's cockeyed view is the staircase down from the attic, and the adjacent door to the roof. Which the man, unable or uninterested in hearing whatever sounds might be emanating from the device now, dashes toward, magicks open, and disappears through. You can just see him making his way up to the roof.]



[OOC: Remus will be responding to any comments on this post! It'll just be a slightly-future Remus, who's calmed down after this log plays out!]

video;

Mar. 23rd, 2015 05:42 pm
credulosity: (Im never in my waking life)
[personal profile] credulosity
[ Luna has her large pink Spectre Specs glasses on her face as she addresses the network, looking somewhat unsure of the device. She'd read the pamphlet a few times over, but the device was surprisingly muggle-like for something found in what seems to be such a magical place, and she's not the most experienced with this sort of thing. ]

Hello. My name is Luna Lovegood. I think I might be displaced.

[ She knows where she is, of course, so she's not entirely lost. She's just not sure where Wonderland is. ]

I was at Hogwarts a few hours ago and I think I'd like to find my way back in time for my lessons tomorrow. I think I've already missed today's.

[ And then as if she's just remembered she's got the Specs on, she pushes them down her nose to eye the camera over the rim. ]

I get the distinct impression that there are blibbering humdingers floating around the mirrors here. Has anyone else noticed?
beatupgrass: (✘ i call it a soul sabbatical)
[personal profile] beatupgrass
 [well, this is one unhappy little raccoon. having finally realized what exactly is happening, he reacts the only way he knows how:

loudly and belligerently.]


How many of you d'asted idiots eat people in this freakin' place?
pottershotter: (And you caused it)
[personal profile] pottershotter
[James isn't entirely sure what's going on, but he's livid. The longer the day goes on, the less real his memories feel, the less connected they are. He has two sets of memories about his father that are difficult to reconcile now that he's started thinking harder about this and trying to pinpoint what's missing, what's changed, what's real and what isn't. His father, his childhood hero versus a father glittering gold, versus The Dark One. It rings too close to The Dark Lord, and it turns James' stomach that he ever thought for even a second that You-Know-Who might be related to him. He still has these other memories of his father that fit remarkably well though.

But, that isn't what fuels the rage. As much as he hates to admit it, he could live without correct memories of his father. No, there's something else missing, something vital and unfortunately Wonderland was foolish enough to take that memory and not the importance of it. They have to go back with their memories in tact. They have to remember everything. That all rings clear for James, but when he reaches for just why that needs to be done his fingers brush absolutely nothing.

He can't remember why he's doing this, why he's been trying so hard all these years. Instead of removing his resolve though, the lack has tripled it. He takes to the network, wide-eyed and loud.
]

Wonderland's gone too far this time! Is this even part of the event? Or did it just...did it just throw all of this together in the hopes we wouldn't notice it's fucking around with our memories?!

[He's furious, but he breathes in the hopes of calming himself enough to explain. Whether he truly does or not is up for debate.]

It's been five days since this bloody event started. I can't just sit around and wait for Wonderland to sort itself out this time! I...there's something very important missing and I need it back.

[Wonderland's taken enough memories from James already that the thought of this going missing, his reason for fighting so hard against Wonderland at all, is sort of terrifying and that that terror comes out as anger and desperation. He presses his hands to his temples, tangling his fingers in his hair. It hurts his head to think about it, to untangle the memories, but he forces through it because if it's true and it's real then it's important. He glares hard, more serious than he's ever been.]

One more thing. I don't know if the person who calls himself "The Dark One" is here, but if you are...if you are, then you need stay away from my family and stay away from my son. Are we clear?

[He doesn't wait for an answer before he ends the feed abruptly. He's also available for action if needed, mostly keeping to the lower floors and the seventh floor (where he lives).]
stickseller: (e08151)
[personal profile] stickseller
(Howard feels like he’s falling. Deeper and deeper, through time and space with nothing to clutch to no matter how hard he tries to hold on. He falls past events of his life, from his mother kissing him before he was sent to his first year of sponsored boarding school, past shaking his father’s hand after he graduated from MIT. He falls past the discovery of vibranium, past its presentation and past the assassination attempt. He falls past the faces of his friends, of Peggy Carter, of Steve Rogers, of Edwin Jarvis. He reaches for them, begging for them to grab hold of him, to catch him, to save him, but they all just watch on impassively. When he opens his mouth, no words come out, not a single sound slipping past. He’s just falling, and falling, into darkness with no sense of the depth. So he stops trying to claw for help. He closes his eyes, and suddenly he’s filled with a sense of peace. Of relaxation. If this is death, perhaps it’s just better to accept than fight. It may just be easier.

Howard awakes with a gasp, though instead of his lungs filling with air, they fill with water. He looks above himself to light, arms fighting towards it now, but instead of like in his dream, he makes progress. His fingers burst through the surface first, and then his whole body, and he’s choking, coughing, gasping to replenish his lungs with air instead of the water. He looks around, and sees that he’s alone, in a grand hall. He’s in the clothes he remembers falling asleep in, and he swims towards the edge, heavily pulling himself from the water.

The last thing he remembers from the night before is falling asleep on a small bed in his childhood home. It was where he had left after Peggy had told him to leave, and for once he had respected her desires. She had been furious with him, and because of that, he was furious with himself. She was his closest friend, his confidant, and someone to whom he had a deep amount of respect, but he had spoiled that, now. Ruined it , and for what? Maybe they wouldn’t even have found the vial of blood, and he could have just gotten it back when his name was cleared.

If his name was cleared, he supposed he could say now. That might not be likely after all, he would understand if she just stopped the work she had been doing. He had tricked her, after all, even if he had meant that he felt she deserved more than what the SSR was giving her. Maybe he had gone around it the wrong way, but then again, it seemed he did that often. He had a tendency to try to do the right thing, only to have it go terribly, terribly wrong. Adding ruining one of his closest friendships was just another notch on his bedpost.

Right now, though, he wasn’t thinking about that. He was shivering, and alone, and he needed to find out where this was. It didn’t seem like the kind of place he would be brought if they had come into grab him during the night, nor could he see them attempting to drown him. He made his to the door, expecting to find it locked, but instead it opened with ease. His frown deepened then as he stepped out, and called:)


Hello? Is anyone out there?

(of course, he doesn't notice that he's being recorded by a monitor hanging from the wall.)
voiceinthedark: (Happy Sam)
[personal profile] voiceinthedark
[Sam appears on the video, positively beaming. Five, the newfoundland puppy is sprawled on his lap, taking up entirely too much space an Sam doesn't care one little bit.]

Alright! Some people I've mentioned this to before, but really anyone is welcome. The more the merrier.

[He picks up a leather bound tome, brandishing it at the screen.]

Tomorrow, in the room we used for the Star Wars marathon, we are going to be having an epic Demons and Darkness game. Or 'Dungeons and Dragons' in some of your weird worlds which are not quite so awesome.

[Because obviously Darkness and Demons is the best roleplaying game.]

We've got all the Croatic modules, including 'Night of the Shambling Ones'. Maxine is an amazing DM and it- it should be really fun okay?

I'll probably bring some other board games too. They actually have all of the pieces and cards and stuff which is... surprisingly novel experience for me these days.

Bring drinks and snacks and feel free to come along just to watch or chat, or we'll teach you how to play if you want.
assistanting: (With sparks that ring and bullets fly)
[personal profile] assistanting
[one moment, she'd been exploring the rooms of their creepy new house discussing how sad it was that they had to ditch it in favor moving to DC (would they find a better one? could anything possibly be this perfect?) when she'd walked into a closet and came out the other side. Only, the otherside of the closet was Wonderland. While the new room looks actually suited to April's taste the real world doesn't work like this.

She notices the phone in her pocket and notices the access to the network pretty quickly (hello, 2017 technology) so the network is soon greeted with a video post by none other than yours truly, April Ludgate-Dwyer. Who still isn't convinced that she isn't drunk.]


Hello, "Network," I am your new Overlord, April. I will be kind to my subjects who are bountiful in wisdom and candy and those who are not will have their heads cut off. I shall require a monthly fealty of virgins, who will be delivered to me in the basement of this not-so-creepy house or you will face my great and terrible wrath.

[April makes something that's a cross between jazz hands and a jellyfish motion into the camera.]

My first command is that you tell me everything about the previous gods you worshiped so that I may crush them, and also the weaknesses of this house and its vulnerabilities.

[distracted, she takes another look around the room and while not much is visible from the camera but what is looks like someone raided a halloween shop on the day after halloween for some sweet, sweet and terrible combed over deals.]

And, uh, tell me why the closet to Narina is only one way.
wer: (verge of tears)
[personal profile] wer
[ Remus appears reluctant to be making this broadcast, as if he's wavered on whether or not to do it for a long time. ]

I want to ask everyone a question about something that happened during the, er, puppet weekend last month.

[ So that's how long he's wavered. ]

Was anyone... attacked? By a wolf, specifically. Or a puppet of a wolf, I guess. My memory of that night is a bit fuzzy. No pun intended.

[ He thinks about saying more, but he doesn't want to outright incriminate himself. ]

If you were, please let me know? Thanks.

[ And that's all. He ends the recording. ]



[ Except that's not all. He sends out the following private message to James and Sirius. ]


Next time, no matter if there's an event, we have to get me to the fort. I can't let this happen again!
vampdetective: (240)
[personal profile] vampdetective
[It's been a long, long time since Angel has made an appearance of any kind over the network. Normally, that's just down to the fact that he's not a social person; certain aspects of the network devices still frustrate and elude him and it's not often that he has much to say to the mansion at large, but what he has to share now has a lot to do with the other reason he's been scarce. It's been months since he's been himself, and in the week that he's had his soul back -- or was it longer, now? -- he's been withdrawn, hidden away in a room that isn't even his own, drinking animal blood far, far away from any of the resident humans, doing what he can to wean himself back off the taste that Angelus had re-awakened in his absence.

When the feed first opens, early on Tuesday morning, it's only voice, and he sounds even grimmer than he usually has in the past. It's certainly a far cry from the biting, tongue-in-cheek cheer that Angelus had displayed.]


I know there are a lot of people here who probably don't want to hear from me anytime soon.

[It feels strange, to be preparing to apologize for something almost exactly a year after he'd played a part in bringing Tom Hanniger's rampage to an end, but he had always known that this was a possibility. Here or anywhere else, there was always a chance Angelus would get out, and it might even be worse that he had waited months to hurt anyone, that he had replaced Angel for months and done damage simply by demoralizing the people Angel himself cared about.]

And I know an apology isn't enough to make up for what's been done. The last few months, the last weeks-- [He lets out a muted noise of frustration. He's not good at this, at articulating himself, at trying to express that he wants to make things right.] I can't undo anything Angelus did. I don't expect forgiveness, or anyone's trust. It's not that simple. But I wanted people to know-- I am sorry, for what he did. I'm willing to keep my distance, stay away from anyone he might have hurt, but I also--

[He sighs.]

From here on out, I also want to offer my protection. That might not be worth anything to some of you, and that's fine, but making amends for Angelus-- [That's all he has. For a long time, now, it's seemed like that's all he ever has.] I don't know if I ever truly can, but it's my job to try and atone for what he's done, regardless. What I've done.

[But that's not the only thing he has to address the network about.]

The other thing is...

[He sighs heavily, slowly, and suddenly the video feed goes live, revealing that instead of a six-foot-plus vampire, the phone is being operated by what is most definitely a puppet. A frowning, poofy-haired, caveman-foreheaded puppet.]

This event is, uh-- it's my fault. These are my memories. [And they're really, really stupid.] I'm sorry, they're-- look, just try not to touch or look directly at any television sets. That's probably safest for everyone.

(OOC: Responses will be coming from [personal profile] smiletime! If you want action anywhere within the mansion or grounds as opposed to talking over the network, Angel can bump into your character wherever and whenever you like, just include the time and place in the header!)
titanocidal: (Vindsvalr: The Chill Wind)
[personal profile] titanocidal
This is a mess... Armin seems like he's doing better now, but...

[Not looking directly at the camera just yet, Eren takes a moment to finish up re-bandaging what's left of Armin's leg before turning to greet his audience. So as not to upset anyone with the sight of the gruesome wound (they've seen enough blood already over that last few weeks) he's careful to keep most of it out of view. Still, one can still catch a glimpse of Armin in the corner of the screen, fast asleep in a rather large, compfy-looking four poster bed. A sharp eye might be inclined to recognize it and the rest of the room as Integra's.]

To the people who helped out the other day- I think your names were Carlos and James? ...Thank you. I really owe you one. I mean it. If you ever need help with anything, just tell me and I'll be there.

[There's a lot more Eren could say on the matter, but in the end, he decides to leave it at that. He knows if he says much more, he'll end up getting too emotional.

After taking a deep breath, he forces himself to move on to the next order of business:]


So... Healing "magic." Is it true that there are people here who can do that? Can someone help my friend?



((ooc: Replies might be coming from Armin, as well. Souji is lined up to answer Eren's request, but all comments are more than welcome!))
undealt: (✒ of heroes and villains)
[personal profile] undealt
Well, that was particularly spectacular, even by Wonderland's standards.

[drier than the friggin' Sahara. and whether it's truly over or not, Gold has other issues on his mind.]

I thought we might be done with flesh-eating beasts after the Jabberwocky was felled, but clearly we required an encore. [and speaking of encores..]

Which brings me to my real point. Where I'm from, seeing the future or even knowing the future does not enable you to prevent it. Try as one might, the more you attempt to sort out the puzzle, the more the pieces tend to fall into place, precisely as they meant to. Bearing that in mind, I have to wonder if we've truly prevented the terrible future that was spoken of last year or if we've merely locked it into place.

Of course, Wonderland has never followed the rules any particular realm sets for magic. It picks and chooses as it wishes. Strange, isn't it? All these different worlds, all these different types of magic, and so many of these events hearkening back from our own worlds. It does make one wonder about the true nature of Wonderland.

[a brief pause] Something to think about.
pottershotter: (Even if we're six feet underground)
[personal profile] pottershotter
[When the video starts, James is outside, bundled up in a plain black cloak and leaning against a tree. It's a little cold, but not unpleasantly so, but there's one big draw to making such a broadcast outside - privacy. He's out not so much because it's a pleasant winter day, but because he doesn't want to be accidentally overheard.

That's how much he's been fretting about this. There is exactly one person in all of Wonderland who shouldn't hear this post, and he feels like she's going to sneak up behind him at any moment. But, he has no idea how to go about any of this at all, and it shows.
]

Hullo, Wonderland. I, err. ...Need some advice. Romantic advice. An absolute shocker coming from me, I know.

[He tries to laugh at himself a little to remove some of the awkwardness, but it doesn't work very well.]

Any help at all would be greatly appreciated, I assure you. And if we could keep this between us, and not mention it to Lily, that would be fantastic as well. [He can't help smiling a little at mention of her, though he does peek off into the distance to make sure she's not coming.] I'd rather keep it a surprise, and that'll be hard to do if she knows about it. Thanks.

[With that, he shuts off the camera. He already feels a little better just having put the request out there.]
cupboards: (pic#2893764)
[personal profile] cupboards
[ The last thing Harry remembers is the car failing and losing altitude as they closed in on Hogwarts. He had yelled at Ron to watch out for a tree, and then, well--he was here. He wants to think that this is the tree they crashed into, and that he just flew through the windshield and miraculously survived (which seems to be a running theme with him), but of course it isn't that simple, it never is. There's snow and there shouldn't be, and he can't hear the sounds of car failure anywhere nearby. Or Ron, for that matter. Which brings with it a bunch of worry. How is he supposed to get to the school in time, now? And just how long has he been stuck out here?

Harry, hanging upside-down with his leg and clothes caught between a couple branches, tries to wiggle to get a better view, but he's afraid of his foot coming loose and falling to his death, so he gives up after a short while. The movement causes his palm pilot to fall from another branch, though, and it hits his nose and knocks his glasses free in the process.

While getting hit in the face with a cellphone isn't exactly the best start to an already strange day, it does turn the device on, and anyone queuing into the network is graced with the image of a scrawny pre-teen hanging upside down from a tree. He definitely looks like he could use a hand. ]


Ron? Are you alright? --Ron?

[ He gets no response, and he hadn't really expected one. As far as he knows, Ron is in another tree, or stuck in the car somewhere else entirely. It would be just his luck. ]

Er--Is anyone there? I could use a little help.
snarly: (3.14) (pic#8582097)
[personal profile] snarly
Just what the fuck was that?! ( snappy malia is snappy. she looks like she just woke up. which means, of course, that she just experienced the helldream. )

And where'd the moon go? ( THAT'S IT THAT'S THE POST )
pottershotter: (They are dead and they are gone)
[personal profile] pottershotter
[Once of the hall cameras turns on in the middle of a very rare scene. It catches James, mid-sentence, shouting at someone just off screen. He's absolutely livid, but what truly makes the moment unusual is that it quickly becomes apparent that James is yelling at Sirius off all people.]

--the one thing I ask you not to do, and of course you run off and do it anyway! I can't believe you!

[James is red in the face, but has apparently run out of words for a moment, though anyone in the seventh floor hall probably heard it all. Sirius confronted Peter. James has spent more than a month attempting to keep the peace among them all, which has mostly consisted of making sure that Sirius and Peter spend as little time together as possible. Not if Sirius is going to treat him like he's already gone and gotten him and Lily killed. He didn't know how long he would need to keep that up, how long it might take for the pain to become useful, to drive them all to try and change things.

He tangles both his hands in his hair and tugs at it, and he turns away as if he's going to storm off.However, he seems to change his mind at the last second, instead just taking a couple paces and turning back around and gripping at the air in front of him.
]

Why can't I make you two understand that we've got to work together to change things? Yes, both of you. Between your temper and his guilt over something he, let me remind you, has not currently done yet, it'll take a fucking miracle to change anything at all!

[That's not fair. He went too far and he knows it as soon as the words come out of his mouth. He looks surprised at himself, and a little ashamed.]

...I didn't mean that. We're doing everything we can. It's just...I can't do this without you. Without all of you. This place is tearing us all apart and pitting us against each other and I can't stand it! I-

There are guitars. Why are there guitars. )
wer: (gryffindor colors)
[personal profile] wer
[ It's hard to escape the mirrors in Wonderland's mansion. And lately, it's hard to escape the boards with the word "HONESTY" written across them. Over and over again. But Remus is trying his hardest to do just that: escape. He's in his room, cell phone lying on a shelf across the room as he sits on his bed. Everything seems normal and boring until the guitar starts up. Remus looks around, confused as to where the music is coming from. But then there are drums, and bass, and before you know it, Remus is singing as well. ]

cut for lyrics )

08 | video

Oct. 9th, 2014 09:22 am
intelligently: (SIXTY)
[personal profile] intelligently
( Lydia's stood in the ballroom, walking around and surveying the area as she posts - multitasking, obviously. She's in planning mode, and that can only mean good things for everyone. Unless you obstruct her planning )

Next week I'm throwing a party.

( Stay with her, Wonderland. You've not been to a Lydia Martin party before )

Monday. In the ballroom from- ( There's a pause. She's thinking ) -seven. And I expect everyone to dress up for it.

( Don't be too casual you might get turned away. It's not just a regular dumb teen party. There's another bit of a pause as Lydia turns around, looking up above the doors. Clearly she's decorating in her mind )

It would have been my birthday. Just because I'm here instead of at home doesn't mean I have to miss out on anything for it.

( #priorities. She also wouldn't be able to celebrate with some of you back home either )

So dress up, turn up and have fun. Unless you'll ruin it. And if anyone wants to help decorate- ( Aka do the lifting ) -I would appreciate it.

( There's a smile before she shuts the feed off. You've been warned )
snarly: (the first thing that i'd like to do)
[personal profile] snarly
I need - ( there's rustling, and it sounds like her device is being... fumbled with. perhaps with less finesse than usual, and then a frustrated growling sound comes through. it's garbled, a mixture of human roars of frustration and the primal snarl of a coyote. ) some help.

( her tone is strained, through clenched teeth, and the word help is said on nothing short of an unmistakably animal growl - throaty, low, and dripping with danger. malia has come a long way when it comes to control on the full moon, but in an unfamiliar place, situation, with additional stress factored in... she's not doing so hot. )

The closet isn't giving me what I need. Stiles - ( his name is snarled, angry sounding more than anything else. ) Or Scott or someone. I don't even care - chains.

( she stops trying to talk and just kind of... roars. it's not like an alpha's roar at all, and the feed cuts with a loud crash as she throws her device. her bedroom is taking a huge beating right now and there's every chance that if she doesn't get what she needs, the rest of the mansion might have a little bit of an issue... maybe you talk to her through the device, if you can get her to pick it back up, or perhaps you just happen to live nearby { or know her room number } and hear a commotion or... go straight to where the angry coyote girl is ruining everything and trying her best not to do so. she's on the sixth floor, in room thirty seven. )
pottershotter: (If you're fishing around here)
[personal profile] pottershotter
[On Tuesday, a short message of some urgency appears in the Resistance Notebook, in a familiar formal script.]

ATTENTION: Fort Dixon-Potter will be occupied on the night of the full moon each month from now until further notice, from sundown until sunrise. Please spread the word so that no one needlessly puts themselves or others in danger. It is of the utmost importance. If circumstances change, we will inform you as soon as possible.

The next full moon is tomorrow evening. Thank you very much for your cooperation.

Sincerely,
Prongs


[And, on the off chance that someone feels the need to attempt to use Fort Dixon-Potter during the full moon the door will be locked from the inside, even if they have the password. Considering the ban is to keep a werewolf from running across the grounds and being a danger to himself and others, that's probably for the best. For one night a month, it's likely worth it.]
wer: (looking up)
[personal profile] wer
[ Back at Hogwarts, Astronomy was one of Remus' best subjects. That's not to say it was one of his favorites, but out of necessity, he'd become quite adept at studying the night sky. That's why, after he'd taken the time to settle in, he'd asked his closet for a telescope and started hitting the roof after sundown. Most nights he could be found up there, studying the moon and stars. It was for this reason that he'd been able to calculate when the next full moon would be (rather sooner than he'd like, but there was no changing that), and also made a fascinating discovery.

One night, from the roof, he decides to share his findings with Wonderland at large. He pulls out his cell phone and records a video. ]


Has anyone noticed that the stars keep changing? I mean, night after night, the constellations are different. Sometimes they're not where they ought to be, and sometimes I see ones I've never seen before. I'd thought maybe I could try and learn where Wonderland is, geographically, but I'm more confused now than I was when I started.

[ He ends his broadcast, then, fiddling with the settings, sends out a message to his friends. ]

[ Private to James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew: ]

The full moon is the 8th. That's this Wednesday.



[ ooc: feel free to run into Remus either on the roof, if your character is so inclined, or in the stairwells with his telescope! ]
radiopalkiller: (what happens when you realise)
[personal profile] radiopalkiller
I. The Vendors [ACTION - OPEN!]

[ If you ask Philip, then the only real thing of value he left behind on the other side is his gun. Easy enough to replace, or so you'd think, but the closet is having a difficult day, and anyway, the kind of ammunition he is looking for probably warrants a trip down to his favourite masked creeps either way.

The trip will be a quick one, but anybody in the vicinity might still find him silently pondering over some of the available models, or scribbling down part of his special order on a slip of paper, to convey it to one of the merchants.
]

II. The Bar [ACTION - OPEN!]

[ Once that errand is done, Philip heads up to the bar. He pulls his copy of the Resistance Notebook from his pocket, and sets it down on the table. It still works, for all he can tell. Pretty useful information on Real versus Mirror codewords too, though he's past regretting that blunder.

All that's left to do is smooth out the aftermath. Philip doesn't want to draw that kind of attention to himself, let alone be questioned beyond what he'd offer freely, but there are people he owes- people he promised that kind of effort to. Not the entire network of bored readers, but...

Philip turns the pen between his fingers for a while, and finally starts to write:
]

III. Resistance Notebook [SEMI-OPEN TO RESISTANCE MEMBERS]

Fifth Death

Process took five days after moment of death, exact timeline of events unsure. Took place in location comprised solely of bright light1. Similar to appearance and sensation of light near Core room, potentially same place. Confronted by Queen & asked to choose between "fueling Wonderland" in death, or resurrecting for a small price2. Chose the latter. No side-effects or further memory loss observed to date.

★★★★✩ - would recommend with caution

1Non-corporeal experience; dead body never moved to my knowledge.
2Non-monetary. Exact nature likely varies between individuals.

IV. The Library [YET MORE ACTION - OPEN!]

[ Philip's final stop for the day is the library, specifically whatever rows have currently decided to house the Languages & Linguistics section. He will browse there for a great deal of time, lugging around an increasingly sizable stack of books.

Eventually he will drop his haul on a nearby table, transfer it neatly into a cardboard box, and carry it up to his room.
]
beatupgrass: (✘ does your gun shoot brownies?)
[personal profile] beatupgrass
[Hello, Wonderland.

This is an unfeasibly large gun.

In fact, that's pretty much the entire broadcast right now- the four barrels of an unfeasibly large laser cannon. Off-screen, presumably wielding said unfeasibly large cannon, a Brooklyn-accented voice speaks up.]


I've been here two hours and I ain't heard any demands, so I hope I'm not stealin' your thunder if I skip the theatrics and move right on to the negotiation process. [There's a pause and then a dry laugh.] Oh, who am I kiddin'. I don't give a shit about your thunder. You took somethin' what belongs to me. Four somethings actually. They go by the names Peter Quill, Gamora, Drax, and Groot. They are completely helpless without me, so I get why you'd think they were the ones to kidnap. This will still go down in history as the dumbest move of your lives, so way to think strategically, you d'ast imbeciles.

Here's my terms. If I don't see all four of 'em alive 'n breathin' in the next six seconds, I'm gonna put a round in this communicator just for the hell of it. And then I'm gonna put about eight more rounds in your face. And after that I'll get real creative.

[The gun is lowered. And there is one pissed off raccoon now staring into the screen.] Do I make myself perfectly freakin' clear?
wer: pb: vincent kartheiser (Default)
[personal profile] wer
[Remus picks up the communicator, studying over it and eventually figuring out how to turn it on.] What...? Is this a phone, or some sort of telly with a camera? [Either way, it's now recording, so Remus, sheepish, brushes his hair out of his eyes and clears his throat.]

Ahem. Well. I appear to have found someone's... device, here. I assume you'll be wanting it back. If it's yours, then you can come and fetch it. I'm... [He looks around.] ...I appear to be in the gardens of some manor house. Haven't a clue how I've arrived here. Very strange.

[By this point he's less concerned with the communicator and more concerned with where exactly he is at the moment, so he ends the feed.]
righteously: ([Neutral] Oh SNAP)
[personal profile] righteously
B R O A D C A S T


[It's bright and early Thanksgiving morning that Dean appears on screen. Well, maybe not bright- he's sending this out at the sharp point of six in the morning, and the sun's not quite up yet. He doesn't sleep much, especially not when he's got stuff to do, and he's been thinking about this ever since the leaves started changing.

The plan was to do most of the work on his own, but standing there in the kitchen, flour coating most of the surfaces, flour sticking to his cheek, flour everywhere... in retrospect, maybe he could use a little help.

So he sends out a broadcast, figuring people'll stumble on it whenever they wake up during the day, and it'll kill two birds with one stone. He can wrangle help from the people that are willing, and it'll give a few hours notice to anyone that decides to just partake in the eating part.

Either way, his tight smile looks distinctly harried when he starts talking.]


Hey.

[Sort of a generic, broad greeting.]

I'm, uh- not really sure how much most of you guys know about America- or... you know, Earth, but whatever. The point is, we've got this holiday in America called Thanksgiving, and it's pretty much the best holiday that exists anywhere ever.

[Oh, Dean... You don't have to lie to the nice people.]

There's a long drawn-out crappy historical story about Native Americans and Pilgrims, but since like half of you don't even know what those things are, I'm just gonna cut to the chase. Point is, every year on the last Thursday of November, families all get together and eat a crapload of food until they feel like they're gonna pass out, and talk about stuff they're grateful for. But mostly, it's all about the food and the putting up with one another. I figure, well, we're all kinda stuck here, right? That's about as close to family as some of us're ever gonna get, and- yeah, some of you are family to me. But even if you're not, I thought we ought to have a real Thanksgiving. Kinda put all the crap that's been going on behind us for a day while we stuff our faces with something that isn't... you know, each other.

[He shrugs a little. Zombies, man. Like it or not, somebody tried to eat somebody that last event.]

So, I figure we'll do that up in the bar around six. In the meantime... If anyone doesn't suck in the kitchen, I could... seriously use a hand. Or like twelve hands. I got like eight turkeys that ain't gonna stuff themselves, if I have to peel one more potato I'll shoot myself, and I'm pretty sure the oven just called me a name.

[He's not joking. It rhymed with rooshrag. He scowls at it, and it... Doesn't do anything. Because it's an inanimate object. In his defense, it does look particularly menacing about not being sentient. It's a sure sign that if he's left alone in that kitchen he's going to lose his mind and bake himself into 2 and 20 blackbird pies.

With that said, he cuts the feed.]

A C T I O N


[Later that night, the bar is decked out in holiday themed decor. There are paper hand turkey strings and decorative leaves, tables are pushed together into long, room-spanning lines and covered with nice white table clothes. There's enough food to feed a small army and then some, and it ranges from the traditional things (turkey, mashed potatoes, corn) to... less commonly found items (white rice, cucumber sandwiches, bowls of gummy bears). In typical bar fashion, the beer is bottomless and abundant.

The whole place looks damn nice, which is good because Dean seems to be a hair away from having some kind of damn breakdown and stabbing someone with a two-pronged fork. People can serve themselves and fight for elbow room, but as far as the host is concerned, his mission is accomplished and the only thing he needs in his life is a giant flagon of beer and a viking-sized turkey leg.]


-

[This broadcast is post-dated 1 week, and officially going to take place on the holiday itself. To make sure everyone has time to tag at their leisure around their holiday plans, I just wanted to get it up in advance, so feel free to take your time / prioritize the event / postpone until after the holiday / whatever your jam is!

This is a mingle log! Please feel free to make use of the sub-threads, tag around, multi-person threads promote holiday togetherness, all that good stuff! The invitation is nice and broad, so everyone is welcome! Happy holidays! C:]
infelix: (Default)
[personal profile] infelix
[For a long moment, Remus just sits there at his desk, hands clasped on the table in front of him, eyes cast down and to the side as the weight of what he has to do sinks in ever further. This isn't something he ever foresaw doing, but there are things he knows now that make it impossible for him to continue, without fear and guilt the likes of which he is sick of carrying.]

I'm sorry, please bare with me. This... this is a difficult matter for me to breach.

[He runs his hand through his hair, rubs the back of his neck and finally clears his throat, sitting up a little more. He's always sort of hunched these days.]

Recently... many of us were not ourselves, however much we may have appeared to be.We were taken over, some of us overcome, by forces not of our own control or will, and these... others... they were able to see and use some of our own memories and knowledge. 

I need you to understand, before I do this, that it is that which I fear may bring harm to others... more than the information I wish to share. You do not need to fear me, or have reason to do so, though it will not be.... unreasonable... that you may. But you must know I take every precaution... every care that I can to insure I harm no one. That I am a threat to no one, in so far as I can control the circumstances. And that I am working on insuring this, further.

But if something like this happens again, and that control is stripped of me. All I can do to protect you, is to make sure you are prepared for what you may face.

[His hands are clasped again, clenching and unclenching. He worries his lip with his teeth an takes a breath. This is a confession he does not take lightly and has so rarely shared with any one that it feels as if he is ripping open his chest to expose his heart for a killing blow. But the people here have enough problems without this extra danger going unknown. This place is too unpredictable to keep his secret locked where it could cost someone their life.]

I am a werewolf.

[No four words have ever been so freeing. So damning. And he is prepared to face the fall out that will come with his confession.]

Video

Oct. 18th, 2013 10:44 pm
pottershotter: (But are you brave enough)
[personal profile] pottershotter
[It's been a long week.

James has been counting the days since all signs of Lily vanished, and he's been trying not to worry or panic. The last time she disappeared, she was back within a week. Plenty of people leave and come back in a week. It's a well-documented occurrence, so James waited on edge for an entire seven days.

But, a week has passed, and there's still no sign of her anywhere.

He's been dreading making this post, but he knows he has to. He fusses with the camera for a moment, but then he can't bring himself to look at it.
]

...Lily's gone.

[And then he abruptly shuts the video off. That's it, that's the whole message. Just two words to convey something that still feels so impossible. It still stings, so he makes sure it's short and to the point. He's not about to sob to the network at large, but it's the most effective way to let everyone know.]
imnosavior: (i hold my head down;)
[personal profile] imnosavior
To anyone who knew him, Henry Mills is gone. For good, this time.

[He's gone missing before, but his personal items had lingered. She's spent the better part of the last twenty-four hours sitting in his room -- or what used to be his room, anyway. There's no sign that he was ever there, now.]

Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who helped me by looking out for him while he was here.
Meant a lot.
infelix: (State of being)
[personal profile] infelix
[Remus had never had much use for phones so try to be patient with the raggedy wizard while he taps curiously through the functions of the little device in his hands. He had no idea what he was going to do with it, but perhaps if he found who it belonged to, he could find out where he was and how he had come to be there.

The audio function is all that has been activated, so at first the only sound is the tap tap click of his fingers on the screen. And then he noticed what happened.]


Ah, I see. Apologies, I'm not sure who this is, but perhaps you could help me, if anyone is there.

[Being from a half muggle family has its advantages. While he may not commonly use a phone, he had done so before and he understood them better than some wizards might.]


Could you perhaps tell me who this is and where you are? I believe this gadget belongs to someone else. They must have misplaced it.

[Did someone use a memory charm on him?]

Hello?

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