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?
pistolproof: nah son i just don't want to go back to the locker (conversion?)
[personal profile] pistolproof
[ Jack doesn't know where he is.

This would be much more alarming if it didn't happen on a semi-regular basis.

Last he remembers, he was standing on a dock in Tortuga, watching Hector Barbossa sail away with his ship for the third time, that bastard. But between one blink and the other, he was suddenly standing in the middle of some hedge maze with no idea how he got here.

It doesn't take him long to navigate his way out of the maze and to begin taking a look at his surroundings. He spends some time walking along the boundaries of he mansion, from the gardens to the docks to the pool before navigating the mansion itself. He ends up in a kitchen -- more specifically, the kitchen cabinets.

When the feed starts, Jack is standing at counter, with around twenty or more bottles of rum piled up next to him. If you're assuming he opened the cabinet, took out a bottle of rum, closed it, opened it, found another bottle, over and over and over again, you would be correct.
]

This's some sorta witchcraft, aye? Magic. Voodoo. [ His eyes grow wide before he narrows them. ] It ain't gonna be poisoned if I drink it, is it?

Or cursed? [ He frowns. He's had quite enough of curses for one lifetime. ] I don't like curses.




[ Or! Feel free to slam into him while he's wandering around the mansion. Anywhere and everywhere is free game. ]
belaying: (» ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴅᴀʏ ɪs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀ)
[personal profile] belaying

[When he closes his eyes, it's for a catnap on the canapé in his cabin, between his shifts at the helm. The storm the night before had left the whole crew with very little sleep and he suspects he isn't the only one that will be catching a few moments while they can, but for now, Cotton has it for eight bells unless something unthinkable should happen.

When he opens them, it's most certainly not the ceiling of his cabin he finds himself looking at, and most certainly not his canapé he's reclining on. Instead, the sunlight filtering through above his head is far too clear and clean and bright to come through the panes of whorled glass in the cabin. The air is filled with the papery smell of books, and when he sits up, both booted feet hitting the floor, he realizes because it's some sort of library.

A thorough search of the room leads him to a pamphlet, the pamphlet leads to to his heart rate slowing to something more its customary pace, and the lack of hearing his own thunderous pulse pounding through his head - along with the unclenching of his stomach, where it's turned into a hot ball of dread sitting heavy and hard - leads to him thinking far more clearly, and he becomes aware of a weight sitting in his waistcoat pocket. From it, he withdraws nothing but a black rectangle, and for a long while, he simply stays where he is, perched on the edge of a couch to move at a moment's notice - if need be - and puzzles it out. It is, of course, like nothing he's ever seen, and experimenting leads him to a nonsensical series of moving images and voices that, once he pays attention, are nothing so much as questions he himself has been asking silently to nothing but dead air since the pamphlet, though perhaps phrased in a way that at first makes it seem like so much garbling.

And that's how he ends up here, on the network, after much trial and error and realizing he, too, can somehow shout out into the void and hope that perhaps he isn't alone, despite the worry he isn't. The pamphlet itself has been clear enough, but that doesn't mean it is enough. Not enough to explain why he's here, when he should be in the cabin of the Pearl. His expression is open enough, touched with slight apprehension, and it rings genuine, despite the fact that he's been sitting here for at least an hour, composing his message in his head and schooling his face to be just so.]


I find meself at a bit of a loss, as I understand it be fairly pointless to demand to go home. [For now.] And this Wonderland nonsense means not to me. [It wasn't a location on the map...He doesn't think, damn Jack Sparrow's hide.]

So, p'raps in the interest of sating me curiosity...Be there something I am supposed to be doing, then, other than bringing up the general class this place has so thoughtlessly left out.

intelligently: (SIX)
[personal profile] intelligently
Considering that it's obvious that not everyone is from the same type of place, and about half of everyone here didn't know about any kind of magic before getting here- ( It's okay, neither did she ) -it would be interesting to know exactly what there is, and what's possible in worlds. When things get brought here knowing about it first could be useful.

And before anyone asks, no- it's not going personal. I don't care whether you're part of any of the questions just what you already knew and what's possible. It's from a science perspective.

( Which she will tell you about if you actually ask because no many people care about Wonderland physics )

Where are you from?
When are you from?
Did you already know about:
    Magic?
    Supernatural creatures? ( e.g. nazi vampires )
    Other non-human things? ( e.g. gods )
    Portals?
    Resurrecting the dead?
    Reality altering?
    Alternate/pocket dimensions?
    Something 'unusual' not specified?
( Yes, half of that list is also magic related but specific can be very helpful )

So fill it out. And yes, giving examples would actually be helpful. Any questions?

cinnamonie: (pic#6859721)
[personal profile] cinnamonie
[ when the feed finally does come on, mary margaret isn't in the kitchen. a surprise to anyone who saw her last post, honestly, but times have changed. things are happening. she's changed. for now, she's sitting outside - off near the forest - just because it feels a little more familiar to her. comfortable. she's in outdoorsy clothes and has a bow over her shoulder and a quiver leaning against her leg where she's seated on some kind of log or stump.

there's an odd sort of twitch in her jaw when she starts talking, but she covers it easily enough. ]


I hope everyone is doing well. [ a polite smile from her. she's fully aware of that last event, wonderland, and she's not amused by what it did to her loved ones. ] After the last few events it seems like we could use some more downtime.

[ a breath, and then she seems to ease into it, like just because she's started talking she's back into her comfort zone. ]

I have a couple of things I wanted to mention, I guess, the first concerning myself more than anything. [ a breath, regina's warning ringing someone in the back of her mind as she holds her head a little higher. ] I introduced myself as Mary Margaret when I first got here, and many of you know me as that, which is fine. Mary Margaret is still a name I can go by, and accept as part of me. But I did want to clear up the fact that it is not my actual name, or who I am. [ a beat where she considers if this is even worth it at all, before - again - she continues. ]

My name is Snow White. [ is she holding back a small smile? probably. ] And from what I can tell, for most of you I'm what you consider a fairy tale. That is fine, because that seems to apply to more than just my world, but where I'm from I'm actually quite real, as is the tale itself. You are more than welcome to call me whatever you like, but I did want to let those I've talked to know, and this seemed the easiest way.

[ she's already told those few closest to her - derek and stiles, bigby - but for everyone else, this works much better. ]

The second thing was more of an idea, but it seems to me that there are a lot of us here who are missing someone from home. In a few cases, it might be a few someones. [ she misses her dwarves, okay. and ruby. and a certain prince charming. ] While I can't promise anything in the ways of bringing those people here, I've always found that coming together eases some of that pain. There are plenty of avenues to keep involved in Wonderland - with classes and the school and group meetings - but I want to suggest another option.

Dinners. [ sorry, mary margaret. what? ] Family dinners. Maybe once a month? I'm pretty good at cooking for larger parties- [ or maybe just seven dwarves who eat enough for hundreds. ] So I wouldn't mind preparing the food. Just for a chance for people to get together a chat, outside of the normal Wonderland setting. If anything, it would be a chance to let some of you eat a home-cooked meal every once in a while. I'll hold the first one tonight, and everyone is welcome, but it would help me immensely if I could get a heads up to who all is interested. Just so I make enough food.

[ another pause, where she's not really sure how to end this, before she just gives an easy smile and a nod before cutting the feed off. ]



private to emma, derek, stiles and nico )
justguidelines: ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ʙᴏᴜɴᴅ ғᴏʀ Sᴏᴜᴛʜ Aᴜsᴛʀᴀʟɪᴀ (→ Wᴇ sᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴀɪʟ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟɪᴘᴘᴇʀ)
[personal profile] justguidelines

[Okay, so using the network isn't really his thing. Hasn't been for a long time, he never really got the hang of it...Whatever (See? He's learned a new phrase thanks to the last event to express his lack of caring. Progress!).

But, now that said event is over, and he's spent a little time mulling over what it all means (he still doesn't get the whole concept of high school), one thing is now glaringly obvious.

Glaringly.

And that one thing that is now painfully, glaringly obvious is what's first and forefront in his mind, after allowing some time to pass, to let the idiot think he's safe and in the clear. And he's not going to chase him down, because that's just stupid. Besides, it always ends with one of them punching the other, and while that will be so extremely satisfying, fair warning is fair warning.

Which is all this is.]


JACK. SPARROW.

[And that's it. That's all his little blip on the network radar consists of.]

akapeanut: (Rewind for me)
[personal profile] akapeanut
[So maybe she'd waffled about how to go about this for too long, but, well. She had reasons to be cautious! And not just because if she pissed Hector Barbossa off by picking the wrong crew, he might throw her overboard and lose her her last life. This was a big deal regardless, and she really does want to figure a way out of here. Even if she isn't sure she herself wants to go back.

And that's one of the things the resistance members would want, right?

And presumably the resistance has been, like, vetted for trustworthy people?

And hey, she did work at a temp agency. She has some idea of how to write a help-wanted ad.]


Resistance Journal Entry )

[Having done this, George tucks her journal into a bag and heads down to the beach to take a look at where they're headed, possibly. If anyone signs up. She sits in the sand for hours and, the more she thinks about it and corresponds with interested parties, the more uncertain she becomes. Especially since just looking at the waves is making her seasick. Or maybe that's just anxiety.]
stagstrong: (Dis chick is hella hot)
[personal profile] stagstrong
What is the use of these damned vendors? I’ve no shortage of gold in my own keep, but these stubborn fools won’t take my word for promise of payment. Not even the bloody bank of Braavos is as hard nosed as these damned fools. The closets are little better. I've tried a dozen times to find a bow or spear for hunting, but all I have to show for it is are there tiny wooden sticks.

[Toothpicks! Why does he need toothpicks? Is he supposed to be hunting moths? He groans, rubbing his temple at the growing frustration of negotiating with the people who occupy this pace. It’s part of a larger symptom in that he simply craves some action, whether it’s fighting or fucking, he’s not picky.]

What this place could use is decent entertainment. We have a tavern, aye. But a sad one at that. But where are the tourneys? The action? Gods, but what I wouldn't do for a melee now. Seven hells, but I’ll end up fat and soft if I’m expected to live like this much longer. My armor will rust before it sees use again.

[A moment's pause. He adds testily:] And to anyone who might ask, I have no wish to read anything.
goodnightlisteners: (steve carlsburrrrg)
[personal profile] goodnightlisteners
[Cecil's newest broadcast is accompanied by much meowing and the pitter patter of little feets. Cecil, however, sounds quite upset, energetic and generally determined. More like he's at some kind of political rally than doing a radio broadcast.]

At what point is enough enough? At what point is it time to rise up and demand change? At what point does one simply have too many cats? Welcome...to Wonderland.

.-. .. ... . | ..- .--. | -. .. --. .... - | ..- .- .-.. . )
rues: (erase myself and let go)
[personal profile] rues
[ clarisse is almost never happy when she appears on the network, and today is no different. she doesn't look as upset as the first time she appeared, threatening to bust heads and all that, but she's still noticeably peeved. the angle of the camera is a bit skewed, because she's attempting to carry about five baby boar piglets in her arms and they're all squealing at her and wiggling and being very difficult little creatures.

all she wanted was an elephant-sized war boar.

instead, she got 101 piglets. yes, hilarious, closet.

and now they've all escaped because, hey, she never claimed to be a piglet wrangler, and attempting to transfer all the damn piglets from her room to the one next to it was a lot more difficult than she thought it would be. she probably should've asked for help in the first place, but why would she do that. obviously you only ask for help where you're so deep in pig shit you've got no other choice.

funny how this is the second time she's asking for help over the network. except, you know, in a completely roundabout and slightly threatening way. one day she'll figure out how to say "please" and "thank you." ]


Alright, listen up, punks. [ sound familiar? she really needs to figure out a better way to address the network. ] You might've noticed a bunch of little baby boars running all over the place. They're mine. And if you hurt them, I'm gonna hurt you. They might've come from that stupidass magic closet, but they're still the sacred animal of Ares and if you kill them without all the proper ritual sacrifice shit, I'll curse you myself. Got it?

[ she heaves the boars in her arms and the camera wobbles a bit. at this point it's starting to look like a really awkward selfie as she cranes her neck to appear back in view. ]

I don't know how many of them there are, but there's a lot. You catch 'em, you can keep 'em. Just as long as they don't end up on someone's plate. Otherwise, I want them back. Fifth floor, room eighty-seven.
psalmed: (notanna)
[personal profile] psalmed
[Are you bored of seeing floofy dresses yet? Because at first the feed is of nothing but a mountain of skirts. Finally it's adjusted to Lia, and a teacup, and it's clear there's been some thought in presentation. Her hair is styled, the dress is the height of fashion (of two hundred and something years ago) to the point of impracticality.]

So many people are posing such fascinating questions. I would ask one of my own. Would you want to know your future? If you could peer into the next years of your life, and the lives of those you love, would you wish to see what time will bring, even if you could not change it?

And then, if you knew...would you accept it as the will of God? Of fate?

[There's a sadness there, lingering behind the polite and pretty face. Fingers are tangled in the beads of a rosary around her neck as she considers her next words, and at last she smiles and ducks her head.]

I still find myself lacking for a partner in sword practices. I would very much like to encourage anyone who wishes to learn or only wishes to stay active to get into contact with me. I would be happy to teach a beginner to defend their self and virtue, as I would be happy for someone to perhaps teach me new endeavors.

That failing, I fear I shall have to invite a few of you for tea.

[Quite the threat, there, and at least some mischievous spark has returned to her face as she shuts off the feed.]
drinkupmehearties: (Borrowed without permission)
[personal profile] drinkupmehearties
[ Sometime between downing the last of his rum and lowering the empty bottle, the scenery around him had abruptly shifted. There was suddenly no tang of salt to the air, no cool breeze on his face, or the quiet bobbing of the dinghy over calm ocean waves. Nope. Instead, in its place, was solid ground, the warmth of indoors, the mild scent of incense permeating the air. And an immensely puzzled pirate captain, now presently sitting on the smooth floor of the Entrance Hall.

Jack took a couple moments to process this abrupt change -- glancing side to side with a furrowed brow -- then patted himself down to check that his effects were still on him. The network device was discovered thereafter, buried in one of his coat pockets. Jack let out a curious: 'oh!' and proceeded to investigate it, turning it over and sideways and around a few times. Then, for a couple minutes, he watched the network -- and all the strange voices and faces that flashed across it -- with a mildly perturbed expression.

Eventually it's by some miracle (AKA the random, accidental press of buttons) that the video is actually turned on. And then it's only mid-sentence, of course, and with half of Jack's face filling the entirety of the feed: ]
-- bizarre contraption or somewhat of the sort. [ When Jack speaks, a couple words here and there are accented with a flash of silver from his teeth. The view shifts, then, and the pirate peers closer. Enjoy that extreme close up of one suspicious, squinting, kohl-framed eye, everyone. ]

Blimey. This is a dream, i'n'it? [ An expectant beat, then: ] Ah. Well o' course it is, what else could it be. [ The feed draws back, and one can see the corner of his mouth twitch, upper lip slightly upturned. Jack lifts the empty bottle in his hand, watching the last few drops dribble out. ] Not a particularly fantastic dream, mind you, given the most recent and appalling deficit of rum. [ The view shifts away to the ceiling of the Entrance Hall as he sets the device down, and Jack continues. ] Could be much better, too, really, with all things considered.
justguidelines: ᴀʀᴇ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀs ᴡɪᴅᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏɴ (→ Aɴᴅ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟs)
[personal profile] justguidelines

[Because he's clearly too good to lowering himself to chiming in on one of the posts requesting who's missing, and because he's been far too quiet, and because clearly Wonderland has definitely missed that lovely accent, Hector has taken it upon himself to apprise the mansion of the whereabouts of the other pirate.]

It grieves me terribly, o'course, to let you lot know Jack Sparrow, fool that he is, no longer be among our number. [It should be noted he in no way sounds at all grieved whatsoever, and if nothing else, is definitely holding back laughter.] Especially to any of the fine ladies here who may be baying for his blood, and no doubt with good reason.

I recommend you make sure all your valuables be in their proper place, and if anything's missing, that be your problem, and not mine.

[video]

Mar. 13th, 2014 12:14 pm
donttestme: (Standalone)
[personal profile] donttestme
[She's on the roof. No mirrors up there, you see. Though this might not necessarily be something they could do anything about.

She's looking at the sky, but there's no dramatic pause for her to work up to what she's saying, or hesitation. She wouldn't have started recording if she wasn't certain she had something to say.]


If events are Wonderland "crashing" into other worlds...

What if you could "jump off" during one?

[The last event got her thinking, you could say.]
justguidelines: ᴛʜᴇ Eᴀsᴛ Iɴᴅɪᴀ ʟᴀɴᴇ (→ Cᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏɴ)
[personal profile] justguidelines

[Is it that time again already? Why, it just seems like there was an event, what with the murders and such going on. Funny how the time flies.

Hector, to his great disgruntlement and shame, has gotten stuck in...Well, it was a tea room. Still mostly is, really, even if it's popped itself free of the rest of the mansion, and drifted just far enough that his stiff leg will make it a little iffy getting anywhere else, though he's been seriously considering it. Mostly because it's dreadfully dull, stuck in a tea room - or...On a tea room? - with nothing else to do.

The lack of rum does little to help that. After all, he's not the type to care for afternoon tea, and he's certainly wishing he'd at least ended up with the kitchen, but of course that would be too easy. Of course.]


Well, here we are. And supply runs and those as can make them are all well and good, true. But has anyone stopped to consider that p'raps this is a mite too easy. After all, is that the punchline then? Rolling off, p'raps, in our sleep, such as the case may be. Falling for making a jump too wide to bridge, mayhap. But is that it?

Seems a tad tame, is what I'm saying, comparatively.

[And he'll be here all event, folks, stuck with a stiff leg and bored to death. Hop on over and keep him company? He'll even be nice this time. Promise.]

[VIDEO]

Feb. 14th, 2014 07:52 pm
tom_hanniger: (pic#2263450)
[personal profile] tom_hanniger
[Hi Wonderland. It's been a while, huh. Last time Tom was on the network he wasn't quite himself. This time? He very much is. He looks tired and word and pissed, and so addresses the network frankly and with regret.

It's a moment before he's able to speak, worrying his bottom lip. He really, really hates this.]


These murders... shit [He drags a hand through his hair and over his face, having to resettle before he can go on.]

I'm so sorry. He's from my world. This event is mine.

His name is Harry Warden. He..uh. None of you know this and why would you, but I own a coal mine in Harmony, Pennsylvania. Harry was a foreman working for my father when I was a kid..there was a collapse and his team was stuck underground on Valentine's Day, 1998.

By the time emergency services got down there, everyone was dead but Harry and it wasn't because of the collapse. He killed them to conserve his own air but fell into a coma...when he woke up...literally a year later he..I don't know. I guess he wanted revenge for the collapse and stalked back to the mine killin' anyone that got in his way. A whole mess of kids died that night, hospital staff, innocent...good people. Friends of mine...

My town, my people. His evil is here because of me and there're no words I can say to apologize for it.

But we can end this. Harry is human. He is in my world, anyway.

I saw him take a full magazine and keep going but there are more of us and we're all armed.

If you see him, run. Shoot and run. Don't let him get close to you.

..

Guys, I didn't... I'm so sorry.
claimyourself: (worry ☽ never get that far from you)
[personal profile] claimyourself
[Lena doesn't address everybody like this very much. In fact, she can count the number of times on one hand. But she feels this is important.]

Has anyone seen Caroline since the thing with the statues? I haven't been able to find her.

[She doesn't want to think of her friend getting turned to dust and not coming back like the others. What if that's what happens to vampires here?]

Just, if you see her? Tell her Lena's looking for her. Thanks.

[She nearly ends the video there, but her hand pauses midway to the button and then draws back.]

Actually, I have another question. How do you celebrate birthdays here? Because it's kind of confusing if the dates don't match up... I mean, like, say your birthday's this month.

[She's not saying hers is! Just say it was. (Spoiler alert: her birthday is totally on Tuesday.) ]

But back home, the time you got pulled from? It was February there too. And then you arrived here and it was summer. So did you celebrate your birthday right after you arrived, or do you wait until it's February here? I'm just... curious how it's been handled, if at all.
digophelia: (I didn't sleep too well last night)
[personal profile] digophelia
[Wonderland! How are you? It's been a while. Sort of.]

Thank goodness that winter will be gone by then. I've forgotten how absolutely dreadful winter is and how cold it could be. And still absolutely loathe fire places, despite how cold it can really be. But I wonder... will this Wonderland be just as merky as London?

[Or fire, period. That too.]

The only small blessing insofar is no longer cooking for twenty small little mouths. I think I'm rather starting to enjoy it force once.
psalmed: (unimpressed)
[personal profile] psalmed
[The feed opens to the lower half of a very confused face. A collarbone, decorated with the beads of a rosary around her neck, is what is mostly in focus. It takes a few moments for the view to shift from chest to the rest of a woman's puzzled face, which soon has a very cordial smile on it.]

To anyone who might me listening, I beg your forgiveness for this intrusion. My name is Lia de Beaumont and I am a Knight of France and a Lady to Her Majesty. It seems I have wandered from my path and I do not know which way I might again find civilization. This place is so very like Versailles and yet...it is not, is it?

[Her voice is soft, questioning, and she lowers her head and shuts her eyes for a moment. Unfortunately a moment is all it takes as a wave crashes in and takes her out at the knees. It wouldn't have done much, but as the feed soon reveals after it is done flying through the air and landing on the sand, Lia is wearing an impractically giant dress. The wet fabric clings to her legs and she drops, easily dragged into the water with a slight yell. It's a matter of a full minute before she claws her way out of the surf, breathing hard.]

The help would be...most appreciated.

[And then the feed ends, because what is a lady without thanking someone after putting on such a display? If anyone is to come across her, she will be sitting on the beach in a chair, wringing water out of her skirts and trying to get the sand off.]
usskickass: (That so?)
[personal profile] usskickass
Uh, so, hey. Howdy. [Beiste gives a little wave, clears her throat.] I know we've been getting lots of new folks and it's been a while since I talked about this all public-like, so. I teach self-defense on Wednesdays. Mostly what they'd teach you in one of the ones for ladies, along with judo throws and just basic workout stuff. Some events separate us, so each of us learning how to defend ourselves somehow is better than leavin' it up to only some of us, I figure.

Basically, I'm putting this up here to recruit other teachers for things, if any of you know anything about defense. I'd prefer stuff that ain't lethal, since there's always the chance that we'll be fighting one another. Just something that knocks them down or out and lets you run away.

And as far as people taking lessons or just coming to train, y'all are welcome. Anybody, any skill level. Me and any other teachers that volunteer will figure out something you can do to keep yourself and others safe.

Just lemme know if any of you are interested, 'kay?
curiousher: (Tumble down)
[personal profile] curiousher
Goodness! I've never seen something so curious in all my life!

[And on the camera is Alice, adorably bundled up in the snow and reaching out to touch one of the breaks in the air. It sparks right in front of her...well, where her eyes should be, and she giggles. It didn't hurt and it was such a strange and odd little thing. But then, she looks a bit thoughtful.]

Hm, well. Actually, I have seen something like it once before. I was a different person then though, much different. I think I was about three and a half inches taller, and I was much more royal back then.

[It's true – it was even at Christmas time too! These little rifts in the air are very, very familiar. She reaches out and touches one again and it sparks.]

It's very curious anyhow though. I wonder why they don't go anywhere? A hole ought to go somewhere if it's going to be floating about that way. But, hm. Perhaps it just hasn't cracked quite enough...that's for the best though. What a mess that was...

[It'd been so hard to clean up. She doesn't envy the current Queens one bit.]

Everything is strange lately! Some of you very much aren't yourselves. Or, maybe it's more accurate to say you're too much yourselves. Far too much! Far too much and too far away...whatever are you doing here?

Well, in any case, you've made it just in time for the holidays! You've timed it all impressively well, and all of you ought to be applauded for it.

[And she smiles, and claps her gloved hands. Good job! Congratulations!

The post suddenly ends there though, and if one recognizes where she was on the grounds, they will not find her there anymore. However, she will answer all replies to her message. ♥
]
bottlearum: (All to Hell we must sail)
[personal profile] bottlearum
Oi!

[ That's it, that's all the warning you get, Wonderland. Guess who's back. Did you guess Jack Sparrow? Because it's Jack Sparrow.

When the feed starts, the shot of Jack himself doesn't last very long beyond the split second of pure irritation on his face before he flips the screen around. And here is Jack Sparrow's room.

His room which is completely destroyed. His bed is in shambles, his sheets not only strewn across the room, but torn as well. Every single drawer has been pulled open and everything that can be physically moved has been pushed away from the walls or toppled over on their sides, as though someone wanted to find something and wanted to make sure the thing wasn't hiding against the wall or under anything.

Unlike the last time Jack's room was in disarray, he doesn't seem entirely pleased with the state of it now.

Not only that, but there is glitter on the ground. Every single inch of the ground is, somehow, covered in glitter, glistening in the light like tiny little broken pieces of glass.

But that's not all.

Jack makes his way to the table, smack dab in the center of the room. On the table lays a dead rat, impaled through the middle with a kitchen knife. Jack flips the camera back around to him, one single eyebrow raised.
]

You know, mate, I understand you ain't too keen on the kitchens, but they've got apples. You ain't gotta catch your own food. 'Sides, [ He flips the camera back over to the dead rat. Merry Christmas, Wonderland. ] That hardly looks sanitary, eh?
nascensibility: this one is my favourite (hey those books you gave us)
[personal profile] nascensibility
[It certainly isn't as though Evelyn is ignoring the fact that several Wonderland residents have disappeared all of the sudden. In fact, it's particularly odd that a slew of them have all gone at once, but...you could say she's a little jaded.

After all, she's seen people come and go for years - the fact that it's Christmastime only makes the Mansion look more cruel than it already is. They'll come back eventually. If they don't, well...

...then they don't.

That's all.

Having chosen to spend her time doing activities of a more festive nature (since they're bound to get something awful in the next week or two), Evelyn has set up a slew of supplies in one of the bedecked parlours, holiday music unfamiliar to her ears playing on the gramophone.

And what, pray tell, are these supposed supplies? Massive sheets of gingerbread, jars of nonpareils and cinnamon dots, icing tubes stuffed with crisp, white frosting. Evelyn is making a small-scale version of the temple of Philae, bless her, tiny hieroglyphs and all.

A little company wouldn't go amiss, though, hence her network-wide message:
]

Holidays can be difficult for people feeling homesick.

I've got a great deal of baked goods and music by some fellow named Bing Crosby, if anyone wishes to join me!

Second floor parlour.

~Evelyn





NOTE -- Any mistletoe shenanigans that I planned with people might as well go in here, if people are amenable to that idea! :)
justguidelines: (Default)
[personal profile] justguidelines

[Hector's standing in a room that very much looks like his own - a replica of the Black Pearl's cabin - though judging from the splintered door behind him, it's...

Well, it's not his room. As evidenced by the first thing that comes out of his mouth.]


Jaaaaaaack. [It's drawn out into two complete syllables, and if the idiot in question were around to hear his tone, he'd no doubt be looking for a place to disappear to.] Where are ye, Jack. Here I be where you should be, and imagine that, no hide nor hair of you to be found.

Speak up, mate, as I've got something to be saying, and you'll damned well be doing the listening.

[Steal his map, will he. Hector fully intends on getting that map back. Because returning here to Wonderland after the battle with the EITC the thought's occurred to him that perhaps that map - which charts places not necessarily of this world - might have the answer he's looking for, and has been, all along.

However, to the mansion at large, and it's obvious that's what it is, given the shift in tone to something actually cranky and put-out (because he is), he has, of course, a question.]


This place apparently saw fit to return me to where I belong, to do as I must, and now that that be accomplished, here I be again. Why.

alwaysnext: (run away)
[personal profile] alwaysnext
[There is a time, on a chilly evening in early November, when your average British person starts to feel the dark, autumnal urge to get pissed and set everything on fire. Wood. Bins. Shitty burgers. Even the sky. Nothing is safe.

As the night draws in, so begins the non-stop crack of fireworks. And, if you're paying attention to the network, the whooping of a teenage boy all hopped up on liquor and anti-Catholic sentiment.]


Okay, it's the fifth of November and all I have to say is: if you don't get out here and grab a sparkler, you might as well go and punch King James in the face.

[He jimmies his own sparkler at the camera in demonstration, before shoving his ugly mug back into frame with tipsy neglect for a wide zoom.]

Unless you're into that. Actually, I think a few people here would be into that. So in that case… fireworks! There's also those. Come see them. Bring some of your own! 'Cos I'm about to run out.

[ooc: Mingling log for Bonfire Night party shenanigans. Whether you want to take your revenge on the Wonderland plant life, complain about this newfangled Catholic reformation, or just burn your enemies in effigy, it's time to start a thread and mingle.]
ofletters: (let it be)
[personal profile] ofletters
[ Here's someone who hasn't been on the network recently. A thoughtful, albeit tired (though, honestly, it would be surprising if he weren't tired) Sam Winchester peers briefly at the camera, then away. ]

Anyone have, uh... issues looking at your reflections, now? [ There's a weary sigh, as there usually is. ] Having them exist in the first place--the doppelgangers--is hard enough, but...

[ The rest goes unsaid. "Having them with us here is too much." ]

... Makes you wonder.
blackofhearts: (pic#6955224)
[personal profile] blackofhearts

[At first glance, there's absolutely nothing different to notice about Hector whatsoever. And really, for anyone that's aware of his history with things like Aztec curses and such, that's no surprise. His body language is a little looser, his tone and smile perhaps a tad sharper and colder, but overall...There's very little to notice that's different.

However, while he's been fairly quiet in the halls and over the network and everywhere in between, it's because his mirror and he have been battling it out for dominance, and the mirror's won, simply through dirty tactics and using what is their own weaknesses against him. It just has taken time, since it's been so long since he's been squishy and mortal, that it's made more sense to feel everything out first.

So, when the feed kicks on, there's Hector. Or. Rather. There's the mirror version of Hector, prodding at his own middle with a long-nailed finger. And when he speaks up, his voice is far bouncier than the real's, with a touch of absolutely sadistic amusement of the sort you'll never hear from the one that really resides on this side of the mirror.]


It be a damned shame, truly, that a body can be this damn skinny and twiggy and still be soft around the middle. Really, what does this fool do, sit around with 'is never-ending supply of apples? Him and that idiot he calls an associate? [He snorts at that, because the Jack on the other side of the mirror is twice as stupid and three times as intolerable, in his opinion.]

Well, I'm stuck here in this lazy, good-for-nothing soft moron's body. What be there to do on this side that's fun.

[ooc; Catch-all for Hector! o/ Replies can come from either, so specify which one you want. c:]

bottlearum: (The air of home)
[personal profile] bottlearum
[ Later that night, after this post has aired, Jack Sparrow and Hector Barbossa made their way to the grounds to rid themselves of that horrid, evil spirit bound in literature. This is the aftermath of that joint venture.

The feed opens up to both of them, standing side by side, silent and still, eyes focused on something just out of view of the feed. It takes a few seconds for Jack to remember that he'd started up his communicator but, when he does, he brings his attention back to it.

His face is even and his voice level as he speaks and, despite the sun having set a few hours ago, there's still enough light for both of them to clearly be seen on screen. Weird.
]

Nobody panic... but I think there is a fire.

[ And with those troubling words, Jack flips the device around and you're greeted with the sight Jack and Hector had been staring it. It is, indeed, a fire.

And I don't mean a campfire or a bonfire. No, I mean half the mansion grounds are legitimately on fire.

This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill.

And then, calmly and unconcerned, Jack and Hector's voices drift through the speakers, as though they weren't witnessing a horrendous natural disaster occurring right before their very eyes.
]

For the record, I'd like to state this be your fault. If not for you, nary would I have wandered down here. [Because, no, he'd have just burned it in the stove or the microwave most likely.]

You were the one that decided to read futuristic porn, mate. Not me.

Wouldn't have read it if I knew it were porn, would I? Still your fault.

Is not.

Is very well so.

Is not!

It very well is so, and you know it.

[ Yeah, they could on like this for a while. Someone might... want to do something about that fire, though. ]

[Video]

Oct. 14th, 2013 12:10 am
tom_hanniger: (huh?)
[personal profile] tom_hanniger
[Shock and awe, Wonderland. Tom has been here for how long and this is his first time on the network unaffected by an event. But anyone who knows him knows he hates the friggin' thing. Or, more to the point, just really doesn't like drawing too much attention to himself.

But hey. He's happy for once in a very long time. He's in love! And instead of jumping around on someone's couch or screaming from the roof tops, he's sitting outside the back of the house with a power saw, a generator, and a stack of timbers that he has lugged from the closest closet.

A lot of you he hasn't met but you might remember him proposing a football game a months or so back, but he wasn't feeling quite himself then. Living alternative lives and all that.]


Was thinking about doing some work out here. Idle hands and all that.

[It's a beautiful autumn day, guys. Come out and do something constructive.]

Could use some help to get the walls up. Not like we've got much else to do.
justguidelines: (Default)
[personal profile] justguidelines
[Well, now that that whole mine business is over and done with, and he finally (finally) has gotten himself clean of the ick and gore, despite it still staining every piece of clothing he owns, he can get back to what he was originally doing, which is, of course, boning up on future-speak so as all the better to listen in on conversations that have in times before left him two steps behind.

And so that means reading future literature, as so much of a culture's thoughts and ideals can be found in what they study and write about. That, at least, has held true through some of the nonsense he's picked through. Magic, according to some; science, another. And all manner of things that he's grateful come illustrated, as it's hard for him to picture such things as 'cars' and 'trains', much less machines that fly through the sky.

However, he's hit upon some particularly bad literature in his wanderings, and while he's mostly skimming for the gist of things, since spelling and grammar and all manner of things is still somewhat unfamiliar, this one in particular has caught his eye, simply for its sheer terribleness.

So when the feed kicks on, Hector, settled at the table of his cabin room with a bottle to one side and a stack of books to the other, simply gives an amused look, before holding up a book, cover side to the communicator.]


Been doing meself a bit of research, ye might say, on what you lot find worth reading. For the most part, I'm impressed. There be a wide enough variety of nonfiction that's interesting enough. But then...I found this. [He waggles the book side to side for a moment.] I've no idea what this is supposed to be about. It's so terrible I can't force meself to actually read it. For instance:

[He clears his throat, pulling the book back to him, flipping to a random page. Really, the tiny print of the future is terribly hard to read, but he's going to make the best of it.]
“So,” I prompt.
“I like the control it brings me, Anastasia. I want you to behave in a particular way, and if you don’t, I shall punish you, and you will learn to behave the way I desire. I enjoy punishing you. I’ve wanted to spank you since yo-


[He pauses, eyes moving as he reads ahead, flipping forward in the book and sampling again, and one last time, before blanching and slamming the book shut.

That not enough, he pushes it to the edge of the table with a finger as though it's a live thing, and when that still doesn't satisfy him, it's picked up and bodily thrown to the other side of the room, upsetting Rose, who's been quietly sitting on the monkey swing in the background until now, and she gives a loud screech, diving away.]


I'm not one given to vulgarities overly much, mind, but just what in hell is wrong with you folk. First there be that internet porn, and now this? Honestly, either you're the most gutless group of soft nancies I've never before seen, or there be something seriously depraved about the lot of you, between that mess and the sparkly vampires, and gods only know what else, as I'm not sure I wish to investigate much further in your fiction.

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