low_key_angel: (b&w)
[personal profile] low_key_angel
[The video snaps on to Gabriel at the little diner Ned ran on the eighth floor. On the table is a rapidly growing lion cub, curled up in a leather bomber jacket, contentedly chewing on the sleeve of it. After deciding that they needed Top Gun-esque code names - Gabriel had done something as stupidly sentimental as getting jackets.

Not that they'd ever wear them. Don't be stupid. He'd created it on a lark, something to make them both laugh a little. But he's lost his older brother and his best friend in a fairly quick turnaround. So sue him if he wants to mope now that things have (finally) settled the hell down.]

If anyone's looking for Gabriel - he's gone home. So I guess I'm looking after lil Simba here unless anyone else has a claim to him.

[And screw it, he's feeling reckless.] Deano? Hear you're back and on the rampage. This place has decent pie.

[And if that doesn't get his attention, nothing will.]
ofletters: (well i'm scared)
[personal profile] ofletters
[ Boom. And just like that, as if he'd been asleep the whole time, Sam wakes up. It's a startling moment from death to life, though it's happened so many times now that he should be used to it. The younger Winchester takes a full twenty minutes to gather his bearings, flex his fingers, put a hand to his head where he feels a dull throbbing. Then, once he can get to his feet, he realizes he's been lying on his own bed, covered in blood (his own, probably) for some time. So he'd like to shower, get on fresh clothes, take another long period of staring at himself in the mirror, only faintly able to recall what it felt like to have his head beaten in by his own brother.

All he does, though, is slip the devil's trap handcuffs into his pockets, does a few stretches for the sake of doing something with his (living) body, and then pull up the network. ]

What the hell happened to my room?

[ It's a friggin' nightmare. It matched his corpse well enough, he guesses, but Sam isn't exactly in the mood for that kind of humor at the moment. ]

Oh, yeah. I'm alive. In one piece and everything. [ Tone: flat. Tired. ] And if you haven't figured it out yet, Dean's a demon, and he's probably trying to either kill or sleep with you, if you're talking to him. Or both. So don't do that.

[ Tone: flat. Tired. Very tired. ]

My room's, uh. Not my room, so I'll be mobile, but I've got holy water for people who want to piss him off. Generally I'd advise against, though, since he's pretty damn strong and is really into bashing people's heads in. Normal weapons don't do anything against demons, so, again, just avoid him like the plague. Which he basically is, right now.

[ ... ]

... Uh. Sorry to anyone who had to see me the other day. Like that.
first_demon: ([Lilith] Unhappy)
[personal profile] first_demon
[If she looks somewhat relieved, it's because she is. But there is a glimmer of pain and frustration on her face. The sort of mixing that could only come when it applies to her father. She's both happy and upset to have lost him. The complexities of their relationship never easy on her responses or emotions.]

Has anyone seen Lucifer? ...Father, I mean?

I can't sense him about... I think he might have returned to our world.
low_key_angel: (no good)
[personal profile] low_key_angel
[The video opens to a pair of grinning archangels who have, by the looks of the empty bottles behind them, been busy for a while. Gabriel grins at his name twin.] So. Beach blanket bingo was fun, but me and other me think it's time for a more adult party. Booze is mandatory. Pants? Totally optional. [Wink as he defers to the second Gabriel.]

We're just not the sort to require so many layers and formality. We want you all to just be yourselves, let it all hang out.][There may or may not be some sort of suggestion to that statement.] Bonfires and Balls are fun, but we Archangels know how to throw a real party

[A toast to the darker haired Gabriel.] Damn Skippy we do. Learned most of my best moves at Odin's keggers. Festivities start at the bar, courtesy of the lovely Jo Harvelle. The after party is a little more private and a lot more fun.

[Toasting in kind and after a quick swig he'll add on his line.] The after-party is for anyone curious enough or willing to let themselves really go wild. There may or may not, [Complete with a hand teeter-totter] be nudity. At that point I'm hoping we're all too drunk to make good decisions to say for sure what might happen. Where's the fun in planning out every detail?

Planning is for suckers. Unless you're planning on nudity. In that case, plan ahead and be on time. Consenting adults, demons and.. whatever else might be up for a very interesting night. Sound off if you have questions, otherwise we'll see you there.

((ooc: Please mention in the subject line which Gabriel you might want to harangue. log post to come soon!))
what_he_needs: Made by @fromperditiion.tumblr.com (Sideburns)
[personal profile] what_he_needs
[It was an accident. Entirely the fault of the small, green eyed kitten that Wonderland had gifted him via his brother. He was not usually so careless, but he had become lax in his behaviors, and less than diligent when it came to his communication device. His pet had played with the device, turning it on. The feed records and broadcasts for hours.

Around three a.m. Saturday morning, Wonderland will be blessed cursed with a startling vision displayed across their devices. Wings out, stretching them, Michael walks past the screen. He's not dressed, but, fortunately, the screen was angled just right that only from his abdomen up will be visible. He sits in the middle of his room - now the top of his head can be seen - legs folded under him, and begins to meditate.

An hour passes.

Then three more.

He remains still the entire time, eyes closed and focused.

Twenty minutes longer, and the feed cuts out; the cat, aptly named Cat, hits the button again and turns off the device.

When the feed begins again, Michael is dressed, and is standing by the window, looking out. He does this, then sits again and meditates another hour without much movement before deciding to sit on the edge of his bed and begin to whittle. It's a hobby, random in nature, that he'd taken up to pass the time. He has a small collection of carvings piled up on a table in his room.

After another hour, wood shavings flying as he cuts into the soft block with a small knife, Michael looks up to see his cat playing with the device. He stands, and goes to pick it up. Sighing, and realizing it's recording, he turns it off.

Wonderland has just been subjected to the longest, and most dry, look into the daily habits of an archangel.]

Mass text sent out later that day;

I apologize for the video.
malefice: (ᴅʀᴏᴘ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴛᴛᴏᴍ)
[personal profile] malefice
[ Kol is looking a lot better than he has been for the past couple weeks - stressing over Davina and then getting maimed and fed on by his brother hadn't done him any favours. Injuries are mostly healed now, bruises faded into a light yellowish colour and the cuts and scrapes practically gone.

His phone is held out on the table, camera aimed at him, his free hand twirling a finger lazily as he stirs his coffee with his powers. He's in the dining room, not bothering to hide from his siblings, or anyone really. After his rather interesting confrontation with one Dean Winchester he can't help but want to kick the hornet's nest with showing off his powers. See, not a bloody werewolf, you flannel wearing baboon parading around as a person.

Whilst worrying about serial killers and massive wolves is well proper good fun...

[ The events kind of suck, but all the planned parties so far have been good fun. ]

I'm curious - is there any sort of jail here? To toss the rubbish folk in? Perhaps a massive pit we could just push people into?

[ Is there room for a hybrid twat of a brother? ]

And if you feel - let's say - threatened [ Lookin' at you Dean-o ], what do you do about it? Vigilante justice?

001 | Video

Feb. 9th, 2015 06:58 pm
adamyoung: (009)
[personal profile] adamyoung
Cor!” is the first thing the device broadcasts, along with a very lopsided view of the Checkerboard Hills. After a fumble, it turns around to reveal a boyish face thatched with golden hair.

“We’ve got to form teams,” proclaims Adam, with a bright, infectious grin. “We’ve got a whole hillside checkers board! Its…”

He pauses a heartbeat as he counts in his head.

“...twelve pieces on each side, so we need twelve people in one color shirt, and another twelve in another color. Red and black is traditional, but it’s alright if we do some other color, ‘cause for example, more people might have white shirts than red shirts. Lots of people have white or black shirts, right? An’ if there’s more than twenty-four people who want to play, we’ll have to take turns, so it’s first come, first serve.”

He says the last part quite sternly, in the manner of a thirteen-year-old taking charge. No cutting in line, kids.

Wonderland, say hello to Adam Young.
iseethings: (we get to come back)
[personal profile] iseethings
Where’s my son? [ There’s no preamble, because his son was just with him, and now he’s somewhere far from the house they’d barricaded themselves in. ] I’m gonna say this once so you understand, so you know why I’ll take you out, whoever you are. [ Despite his words, his voice is calm, his tone just barely elevated. ]

I don’t know what you did to him or Michonne, but they’re all I’ve got now. You take them away, there’s nothin’ that’s gonna stop me anymore. Nothin’ left. You gave me this device, so you can call me back when you’re ready to talk, and tell me where the hell I am. I’ll give you one chance to make it right.

[ He's pretty confused by how they got a device like this to even work. He also looks pretty beaten up, cuts on his face, still healing from a nasty fight with the Governor, but he'll manage. Carl and Michonne are his biggest concerns right now, then finding the rest of his people. ]
onlyhomemade: (Care Bear)
[personal profile] onlyhomemade
[Some of you may normally ignore anything that typically comes across this feed, but today? You may want to watch closely, if anything, to get a good laugh out of it.

A teddy bear with black fur and a white tummy with a symbol on it comes into view via a pair of wings that appear to be made of white, puffy clouds. As his paws, complete with little hearts and everything, touch ground the wings dissipate and are gone as if they weren't there at all. He pokes his heart shaped nose at the camera, picking up the device to peer through at Wonderland with those little, beady but overly kind eyes. He smiles warmly at all of you and waves.

Hello there Wonderland,

[Wait. Does the bear have Gabriels voice? Only… he sounds so… cheerful.]

I am Messenger Bear, I'm a Care Bear! From Care-a-lot. And I'm here to give you a very important message.

[There's a twinkle in his eye and if you aren't laughing at the turn of events you will be.]

I care about every single one of you and I'm here to be your friend! Because everyone needs friends. And I've noticed that Wonderland needed more love. So here I am to help you out.

If you're in trouble, or feeling down, I can help! Sharing your feelings is okay! It's what friends do, so don't be shy. I'm very eager to get to know all of you a little better.

[Complete with an almost childish giggle. He honestly does look excited about all of this. Go on then Wonderland. SAY HELLO.]

Teeny cut for action option )
(ooc: It's good to note that Gabriel, as a Care Bear might know stuff about you from the get go, but simple things like your name, favorite color, favorite food, hobbies, or what you always wanted to be when you grew up. He can know bigger things if you really want, but bear (haha) in mind that he'll remember this stuff from the event. So feel free to let me know that stuff in the brackets, or on plurk or something.)
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!)


Jan. 10th, 2015 09:22 am
dissemble: (We mean it but)
[personal profile] dissemble
[The Lucifer on your screen is not a happy Lucifer. He seems quite disgusted. Human. Again. This is really intolerable.]

Every time this forsaken place decides to throw something new for you to deal with, it makes everyone here human. I guess Wonderland just really likes giving you all no chance of overcoming these threats outright. [You humans have no hope of beating these things.]

I'll see you when this is over. [Is that a threat to hole up somewhere, or something else...?] Someone keep an eye on Sam for me.

[ooc: Lucifer will respond for around a day before he'll let himself get killed. Fuck being human!]
low_key_angel: (event)
[personal profile] low_key_angel
[Who has cookies for breakfast? This guy. Okay, they'd count as breakfast if Gabriel did mundane things like sleeping. But he had places to go, brothers to bother and a general pest to make of himself. What he doesn't expect is the sudden transformation overcoming both his grace and his vessel after raiding one of the very impressive spreads the place provided.

So have an adorable little moppet, Wonderland, hanging upside down from one of the Christmas tree limbs, examining his phone curiously.]
Michael? Lucifer?

C'mon, I can totally hear you guys. Where are you?

[Heaving a sigh and with a very visible pout he jumps down, landing nimbly on his feet.] Fine. I'll just find someone else to play with.

ofletters: (i have no hope in solitude)
[personal profile] ofletters
Okay, public service announcement, here: if you don't filter or lock your messages, we can all see them. And read and hear them. Which usually doesn't matter, but just... I mean, if it's quote-unquote sensitive information, you probably don't want it on the public network. And we don't, either. Usually. And even then... I mean, there're a handful of tech-savvy people in the mansion, so even if it's encrypted, it still could be, you know, decrypted. I'm just saying, it's almost always better to talk in person if you're making big plans or swapping secrets.

That said, does anyone know the network's origin? I mean, I never pegged the Queen of Hearts or the Duchess or whoever to be good with computers. It had to start somewhere, by someone who knew what they were doing. It's a pretty complicated system.

Just... don't tell me it was "magic." [ Sigh. ]
vates: (:) yup.)
[personal profile] vates
[ Kevin's grim-faced when he looks into the camera, the neck of a cello extending up past his neck. He'd like to be happier about what he's about to do, but it's pretty bittersweet, especially coming on the heels of everything that's gone on lately, but... Well. Thanksgiving just happened, and he always heavily associates birthday cake with turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pie. His birthday comes close enough on the heels of that holiday that his family would celebrate it all in one go, so it's weird, spending the day without hearing anything about it.

He knows time isn't really passing here, but he feels a year older, and it's not like he'll ever have a birthday again back home. Why shouldn't he take the opportunity to celebrate it now, here, with his new family? He doesn't really want to make it all about him, though, which is why he's here with his cello. ]

Hey. So... It's my birthday. I'd be 19 today if I actually aged any, but since I'm dead back home... I'm just going to go ahead and call this one an official birthday.

[ He picks up the bow for his cello and starts to move into position, holding it against the strings. ]

I know there are others of you out there who can only look forward to more age-less birthdays, so this post is about wishing you guys either a belated happy birthday, or a happy birthday in advance, if it hasn't happened yet. Or maybe we're birthday twins?

[ He starts to play, but then stops. ]

And it's for you guys who are still alive back home, too. Not to discriminate against anyone.

[ And then he moves into playing, and singing, the happy birthday song. He hasn't been practicing every day like he used to, but he gave himself a few warm up rounds before starting the broadcast. ]

Happy birthday to you; happy birthday to you; happy birthday, dear everyone; happy birthday to you.

[ Next comes the sound of a lighter, and then Kevin holds up a cupcake with a lit candle on it. Leaning over, he blows it out, and then gives the camera a small smile before he cuts the feed. ]
onlyhomemade: (How nice of you to join me)
[personal profile] onlyhomemade
[Gabriel is sitting pretty in an arm chair in his room, one leg crossed over the other at the knee as he addresses Wonderland. It's almost as if he hadn't gone on a murderous rampage, but really, we're not talking about that. It was the Event after all! It wasn't his fault. No need to bring it up right? He's comfortable and there's a glint of adoration, kind of in the way an adult would look at a child who's said something stupid but they're too nice to correct them. He'll just nod and smile, yes, you're right little ones, all is well and right in the world again.]

You humans are so amusing at times with your odd coping mechanisms, no one grieves or heals quite the same. I must say, for many of you the show must go on, but to fall from one horrific event into a large feast? Now that must take some strong stomachs. Tell me, did your celebration of the enslavement of a native race and theft of land go off without a hitch? I'm just dying to know.

[A look of mock embarrassment as he covers his mouth as if he's said a bad word. He seems almost honestly apologetic but the little quirk at the corner of his mouth tells you he's trying hard not to laugh.]

Sorry. Right, I forgot it was commercialized and made into a day of thanks and brotherhood long before the War. I suppose most of you can give thanks for being alive after recent events. Though, humor me won't you? What are you truly thankful for??

Private to Alex, Michael and William )
hacktivist084: (You're vulnerable)
[personal profile] hacktivist084
[When the audio clicks on, Skye is very clearly in the middle of panicking, she sounds close to hyperventilating, in fact, and it takes her a long time to speak. When she finally goes to, she stops and starts, more than once, like she can't quite get it out. It takes very little time to realize she's crying from the hitch in her voice when she does actually start talking, though it's probably obvious long before.]

I-..It's Simmons. I can't-... I don't know what to do. I- I don't know what to do. I-

[She stops, unable to continue right away, it sounds like she can't quite catch her breath and she lets out a warbling sound like a sob. Skye's very rarely completely lost for answers or a way to even begin, and that's enough to be terrifying to anyone who knows her.]

I don't know what happened- Or- I-

[ Skye can't bring herself to flat out say it. She can't. This has to be part of this whole nightmare horrible thing, but it's not, and it's real, and Skye's got blood under her nails and she just wants to wake up. Skye's voice catches again, and she doesn't continue. the audio rolls for a moment or two more before it cuts out.]

[OOC: backdated to very soon after Simmons' run in with Meg.]


Nov. 20th, 2014 09:58 am
dissemble: (Every one a rager)
[personal profile] dissemble
[Lucifer can only presume that the... difference he can sense in Wonderland is related to the cryptic post. As far as he can tell he's avoided any effects of it so far. He intends for that to continue.]

Uh oh. Someone left a door open.

[And that little girl tried so hard to warn everyone too. What a shame.

ooc: Your character can respond at any point during the week! Also, Lucifer can choose to appear as someone else to make your character think they are more insane, if you would like that, either PM this journal or plurk me @sprakles. Happy insanity, everyone!]
ceruleans: (Mystique - scared)
[personal profile] ceruleans
[The video feed is understandably distorted by the fact that the camera is sitting on its side on the floor. There's a familiar blue pair of feet walking over shards of broken porcelain, uncaring of the cuts that she's probably incurring on herself.

More jarring than that, though, is the sound of freshly-breaking plates as they smash against the wall of her room. It's something that she picked up while she was waitressing - it's one of the few things that actually helps to calm her down. It doesn't seem to be working this time around, though.

She's shouting in a flurry of languages -- Vietnamese, English, French, German -- but the sentiment is easy to pick up. She's not just angry, she's mournful and desperate.

This place has taken the one familiar person she'd finally begun to mend fences with away from her. After a week of false memories, maybe she's taking it harder than she should be.

Or maybe she's just been in a more fragile state than she can admit since she got here. She hadn't had much time to process what had happened with Trask and Nixon, after all, before getting dropped off in this place.

Eventually she slides down onto the floor, her knees meeting the broken plates. It's at this point that she realizes the camera's on.

Of course. She can't even have this private moment. Well, since the thing is on ... ]

Erik Lehnsherr isn't here any longer, if anyone else cares.

002; VIDEO.

Nov. 4th, 2014 10:24 pm
awesomemix: (pic#8159734)
[personal profile] awesomemix
[There's a couple of reasons Peter is making this post before his falls off the page.. One, he'd like to assure people here that he's not some sort of crazy gun wielding dick - most of the time.

Two, Rocket had said, point blank. These are your people and apart from occasionally wondering what had happened to his grandpa and grandma he hadn't given earth a second thought. When you live on a space ship full of aliens, you spend most of your time figuring out how to survive. Missing home wasn't really something he'd considered. Especially since Yondu let him drive a space ship. At ten.

Three, ...He's bored. He's bored as hell and there's nobody with any tech worth this side of a Flarkin's tit to play with. Nothing to steal. Nothing to do.

So here's Peter. In a ninja turtle shirt looking thoughtful.]

Hey uh...Wonderland.

So this one goes out to all my fellow terrans. [pause] Humans. It's a habit.

...I am in the market. For pop culture recommendations. Specifically relating to the period between 1989 and uh...2014. Movies and TV shows specifically. Stuff to watch.

[someone introduce him to the wonder that is video games]

Cause space. Has a serious lack of good TV shows. I mean the day that humanity actually gets into space our biggest contribution will literally be amazing television. Xandarian TV, while nice, has a real lack of car chases, fight scenes, and punches.

Also uh.

[here he shifts]

So this goes out to anybody specifically from my earth. That's the one with Captain America. Cause he's here. [And holy shit that was weird in and of itself.]

[He swallows.] What're you guys watching?

[How is earth. He's just going to sit here and nod. Curiously.]
low_key_angel: (Default)
[personal profile] low_key_angel
[For a guy who's used to paying with reality bubbles, creating small pockets of reality to deal up just desserts to those who have it coming, you'd think Gabriel would be a little less startled at finding himself in one.

One second, he's shoving a DVD at Dean and telling him and his brother to get Kali and get clear and the next he's not even in the same craphole motel.

So Gabriel takes his time, wanders the halls before he finally lays claim to one and fiddles with the device he found in his pocket. Convenient.]

Well I've got to give this place props. It ain't exactly the Ritz, but then again, they don't have places that respond to thought. [Gabriel is comfortably sprawled on a bed large enough to accommodate several, balancing a heroic-sized milkshake on his chest. Somehow he can drink it while laying down and not spill a drop.] Now, while I wasn't looking forward to the ol Royal Rumble with big bro, I would like to at least get an idea of who nicked yours truly and why.

Yanno. Just because.
lowkeyangel: (☀ decadence)
[personal profile] lowkeyangel
Action )

[A pretty woman with wild brown hair switches on her device, sitting at the bar. Her attire is a sundress, because evidently, even when in a lady vessel, Gabriel can't stay away from mildly garish fabric. She has the world's fruitiest-looking drink, which she'd snapped together herself, and a swirly straw. Life is too short, she thinks, not to use swirly straws whenever you can.]

Not sure what everybody's complaining about. C'mon, lighten up. If this thing fits pattern, it'll be over soon enough. [She grins, like a certain native cat.] Why not have fun with it while you can? Or, you know, for all our new kiddies out there, drink all the Shirley Temples you can and bounce off of the walls?

[Never put Gabriel in charge of children. Never. You know that sign, "Unattended children will be given an expresso and a free kitten"? Substitute a milkshake or Shirley Temple and a likelihood of that happening.]

I say we deck this place out in treehouses and Slip N Slides and see what happens.

[Replies will come from [personal profile] strawberrysyrup.]
ganking: (pic#6034457)
[personal profile] ganking
[ figuring out how to use the device isn't the hard part, no, it's swallowing the fact that either purgatory changed on him in what could only be described as seriously trippy as shit way, or he's in yet another new dimension. so have dean, wonderland, covered in dirt and grime from head to toe. it doesn't take squinting to notice the obvious splashes of blood either, though all of it's dried as if he hasn't changed his clothes in a while...

in his hand is a massive weapon; axe-like in shape, with a blade made of something unrecognizable but decidedly dangerous. ]

Alright, listen up. This is how it's gonna go; whoever thought this-- [ he gestures vaguely around with the tip of his weapon. ] -- was a great idea? Hand up now. You and I are gonna have a couple words, and how pretty they end up bein' depends entirely on you. [ a threat is laced in every single word. ]

Or I can always just start demandin' answers-- [ you know the violent way. purgatory kinda rubs off on you after a while. ] -- 'cause you know what? I don't have time for this. Not today. [ not when one minute benny had been going on about something or another and now the vampire isn't anywhere to be seen and his search for cas is interrupted.

which leads him to adding, after a pause; ]

Cas, if you're here for some messed up reason, lem'me know. Same for you, Benny.

[ end feed. ]
heavensmostadorable: (fearful)
[personal profile] heavensmostadorable
way tl;dr arrival actionspam )

[The video feed clicks on, and for several moments the image jumps around and shakes, the one behind it pretty fuzzy on how it works and not exactly realizing that it's started recording. At least, not until his face comes into view after a few seconds. It's young in appearance, baffled, and...sort of completely covered in blood.

Hi there, Wonderland. Here's a little angel for you.]

Oh-- I wasn't aware that I...started this. [The image is still shaky, but it more or less keeps his face in frame. While also giving little glimpses at his unfortunately bright uniform shirt--those are red and white stripes staring at you all. A fast-food restaurant uniform, you bet.]

I'm not certain that anyone is receiving this, but I'm...not certain of much at this moment.  [He's pretty desperate at this point, and also kind of panicky. He's lost his angelic composure. In fact, every few moments, he glances up from the device to throw a look around, though he makes no mention of what it is that he's looking out for.] This place, I can't-- I can't tell where it is, nor can I make sense of why I have this device. But it would seem I don't have many options...

[Hence why he's turned to what appears to be his only one--a message out to anyone who might receive it. If anyone's kind enough to offer him some information, he would be greatly appreciative, even if he's a bit lost for words at the moment.]
thepointisdolphins: (god does not play dice)
[personal profile] thepointisdolphins
[Crowley isn't exactly enjoying this event per se, but he is liking it a fair sight more than the last, like...fifty events. This one has a slightly smaller chance of everyone he likes dying horribly, no one's going around murdering people this time, and the only real danger is from gravity, which isn't really a problem for his kind.]

[It's also been the first chance to stretch his wings in ages. He hasn't been flying in, oh...a century at least, probably more than that. This is an actual excuse to use his wings again, and wouldn't you know it, it's just like riding a bicycle.]

[He's currently lounging on a free-floating section of roof, feet dangling off the edge and sipping a nice red wine. His wings are folded at his back, feathered and black as his namesake except for the thin strip of white along the very tips of his primaries. At this point he doesn't even care who sees them. Practically everyone and their mum knows already.]

Not so bad, this one. It's practically a holiday after the year thus far, eh? Just a floating world--not even a monster to be seen. You know, the Japanese had an entire art form based on the concept of the "floating world." Well, not literally. Ukiyo-e, really quite lovely.

[He sips his wine delicately.]

I just hope all of you manage to keep your footing.

[Smug asshole.]

[For the whole event, Crowley can be found basically anywhere, flitting from place to place, drinking wine and enjoying the breeze, cold though it still is. For once he actually doesn't mind the cold.]
imnosavior: (and she calls up a friend;)
[personal profile] imnosavior
[Emma is really, really not a huge fan of heights. Flying was never a problem, but being stuck like this with a damn near infinite drop waiting for you if you take one wrong step?

Not her idea of a good time.]

So, here's a question for you. Who out there is able to move around without fear of plummeting to their death?

[First off, she's jealous. Second of all, she might have a favor to ask of you.]

Also, is anyone else nervous about-- you know. Rolling off in their sleep?

Anyway. I got lucky enough to end up over by the diner. I was thinking if there are people out there who are able to move freely, we might organize some supply runs for those who got screwed and trapped somewhere without food or water or other essentials.

Private to Henry Mills )

Private to Mary Margaret Blanchard )

Private to Regina Mills )


[For now, at least, Emma will be settling in at the diner -- she's not going very far without risking one of those lethal drops, after all, though she was lucky enough to only have a few smaller gaps to jump in order to get here in the first place. A mug of hot chocolate and a few phone calls later, she'll be feeling adventurous again, but for the time being, she'll be doing what she can to help people organize and make sure her family is all accounted for.]
bottlearum: (We are a call to all)
[personal profile] bottlearum
[ Jack Sparrow is in the library.

However, he's not here looking for a book. No, he's here for a different kind of information, a kind that can't be found on the shelves of Wonderland's library. Spurred on by Tom's truly horrific event, as well as Mark's post earlier, Jack comes to you now, Wonderland, with a plea for knowledge. With a few sheets of loose-leaf paper and a pen in front of him, Jack solemnly turns to the network.

I've been thinkin'. These past few weeks ain't exactly been easy on anyone. And rightfully so. This past event was...

[ He looks down. He's not pitying, if anything, he's looks more sympathetic. He wasn't one of the victims, but he has been murdered before. You can thank Elizabeth Swann and Davy Jones for that one. ]

...well, I believe terrible is a suitable underestimation, eh? But! [ He holds out his index finger. ] If we're to prevent this from happenin' again, we've gotta be prepared, aye?

Knowing all there is to know about each other's world is helpful, yes, but it don't mean nothin' if we don't know what's comin' next.

Here's what I propose. [ Jack gestures with both of his hands as he speaks, waving them all about himself. ] If we can figure out who's already had events, and what those events were, we might be able to find a pattern and predict what's gonna happen next, especially if we've got information on everyone's worlds.

After all, it's easier to predict the future when you know the past. So, if anyone who's...

[ Jack picks up the pen beside him, about to write something on the sheets of paper in front of him. But, it's not the kind of pen he's used to writing with. There's a button at the end of it and, completely distracted from whatever he had been saying, Jack pushes it.

Click. The writable part of the pen pops out of the front.
] ... [ Jack pushes it again. Click.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Guess who just discovered clicky pens, Wonderland.
pig_and_pepper: (Default)
[personal profile] pig_and_pepper
[ It is Tuesday. Oh so very Tuesday, oh so very early. Night's not lifted yet at all, poor sunrise, so very far away. But 'tis time. And perhaps you'll hear her all the same. Or perhaps you'll not. ]


[ ...No, suppose you probably would.

(She's there in plain sight, after all, on the monitors and on that meadow by the forest, with an array of patterned bags and colourful suitcases at her feet, packed and ready for departure.)

'Tis all fallen to pieces, and you'll insult me no more with it! I wash my hands clean of your mess, and may you all stay here, stay here, and put it back together bit by bit by bit by hideous, hideous, crumbling bit. After all I've done for you!

[ The Duchess sobs loudly into her sleeve. Behind her the forest rustles gently, as gently as any ominous forest by night ever could. The piglet in her arms squeals tiredly, ever so patient with the Duchess' display. ]

I tell you now, I tell you the last thing I shall ever tell! You've stretched my patience oh so very thin, and now the land stretches as well. Too high, too wide, too far to reach. Beware! Beware, that is all I might tell you. Tread more carefully with it, as you've trodden with me, else you'll fall--

[ She sighs, ever so deeply. ]

--as far as your morals have fallen.

[ With that the Duchess gazes pointedly at the mansion one last time, stuffs her little pig into a chequered duffle bag, and lugs her belongings off into the forest, where she vanishes between the trees. ]
strangeboy: (I ain't tryna play)
[personal profile] strangeboy
[A face emerges onscreen, one that's (hopefully) been missed by a few of the residents. Not that D'Artagnan realizes it, of course. Why, only a few moments ago he'd been in the kitchen, enjoying a beef sandwich, and now he finds himself in the dark attic-- the dusty collection of mismatched furniture and knickknacks is clearly visible behind him-- sans his sandwich and with only the glow of his communicator able to provide him with light. He's tired, which he hadn't been before, and feels...well. Certainly different than he'd felt eating his sandwich. A bit excited, perhaps? Like he could fight his enemy on the roof of a church after an airship battle.

The memory washes through him, sudden and overwhelming, as if it just happened and he hadn't been here for a year. He frowns.

Odd. [His voice is a murmur, and the image blurs for a moment, steadying on the attic floor. It seems our dear Musketeer has turned on the video function unintentionally. Hardly the first time it's happened, and curiously enough, it's hardly the first time he's found himself unexpectedly in the attic. He'll be sure to watch for the stairs, this time around.

The only sound that follows is the creak of the floor, the sound of his footsteps over the old wood. The stairs appear, and D'Artagnan takes a breath, moving carefully but efficiently down them.

I hope no one's eaten my sandwich.

[The screen goes black just as the top floor comes into focus.]
airshipswank: // all icons by <user name=airshipswank> unless otherwise stated (enigma of the world | scrutiny)
[personal profile] airshipswank
[ Disregard the date, shame on my timezone, this is clearly the 18th, a splendid morning after a hideous series of murders, which left the Duke of Buckingham occupied with matters other than his daily riding routine, such as not getting blood on his boots.

But well, well, it's all behind us now, is it not? Which brings Wonderland to a far more important matter, namely the vexed nobleman standing by the stable door, the stable door on the grounds no less, after his own showed no trace of the prized animal he meant to visit.

And of course, last he recalled Ascalon, bright as the steed may be, had insufficient knowledge in regards to opening his stable door on his own, which currently accounts for a great deal of ire in the duke's tone.

I found today that of my horses appears to have been... misplaced.

[ And that is putting the dirty thievery mildly. Buckingham takes a sharp breath. The riding crop in his hands creaks irritably. ]

Andalusian. Black. I'd not suppose anyone would have an idea concerning his whereabouts?
fiendfries: ([020])
[personal profile] fiendfries
[ The feed begins on the face of a young woman who has a vaguely amused smirk on her face, but it's difficult to place how genuine it is. She leans back in her seat and raises a brow. ]

Well, Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore. Funny, I must have hopped the wrong tornado.

[ Except she's clearly not laughing. But what she says next does seem to strike her as more entertaining. ]

Looks like the house fell on a couple of people with all the Munchkins running around on a witch hunt.

[ Oh yes, she did skim the network. ]

But I don't do musicals so I'm not gonna sit around 'til the next number, wasting my valuable time chasing my tail at a luxury resort in the Twilight Zone. Might be a stretch to just click my heels together and get whisked back to Kansas. So when's the next twister out of here?


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