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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

[Note: I'M SORRY, I COULDN'T WAIT, SO IT'S LIKE TINY BIT FWD-DATED! I'm an impatient child, I'm sorry. Plz feel free to threadjack, shitpost, defend him, rage at him, go wild, guys!]
revolter: (pic#11426121)
[personal profile] revolter
[ on what must be one of the first days of relative peace, a feed opens to present a newcomer. Leia is dressed as she normally would, all in white, collar high. The clothes she came with have been tossed away but there is nothing she can do about the ugly bruise on her neck, circular, red. it would turn to purple in a few days and is a dead giveaway for a collar of metal that bit into her skin until very recently.

her palms tell a story too, skin peeling at places, red and irritated from when she pulled on metal. However, it'd be difficult to pass her for the slave girl whose part she'd been forced to play. There's an air of authority to her even now.

Oh, and there's the blaster she tucks just beneath her belt, a touch of black on an otherwise white palette. ]


Well, this is rich.

[ biting with just a hint of sass but then, she seems to realize her message is finally being sent. ]

I see no practical reason for so much technology when we all live in the same cell.

[ this is what she calls this, a cell. A prison is a prison, vast as it may be. ]

But if you hear my message, know I mean you no harm. I understand I've come in a time of great peril [ somehow, she senses it in the very air around the halls ]. My own world is in great peril as well, it is urgent that they'll receive any help available if they're to see our mission done.

[ a beat. ]

We share the same predicament, I ask that we share information as well. If there is anything worth knowing about this system, I'd hear it and if any assistance is needed, I will supply.
choosetruth: (BTK104)
[personal profile] choosetruth
As many of you have no doubt noticed by now, we are in the midst of what, for lack of a better word, I'll call an event. Not a normal event, though. Wonderland hasn't raked through anyone's memories and put bits of our lives on display. This is the doing of individual Reals and Mirrors, and the fallout of their actions, proving once again, our greatest enemies will always be ourselves.

Leopold Fitz and Cisco Ramon, two scientists that started out with the best of intentions, as so many scientists do, have been trying to create a way out of Wonderland, though they refrained from sharing this information with the public before running their experiment last week. "I don't think anyone's been that in the dark that some of us have been working on trying to find a way home. There's no sense in getting people's hopes up over something that is almost certainly destined to fail the first few, probably hundred times," said Ramon, when questioned.


Lots more words and a picture under the cut. George uses so many words, guys. So many. )

[ooc: feel free to threadjack around and discuss with each other in the comments! Turn this into the nightmare comment section all articles deserve.]
catchacold: :| (flake)
[personal profile] catchacold
We're already in some magical land that makes our dreams come true - mostly the bad ones - so let's think about the impossible some more.

[Leonard may be calling it "impossible" mostly to heckle one specific Brit, given he's travelled through time himself, but maybe it will also flush out other time travellers. May be interesting.]

If you could travel to any point in history, where and when would you go, and why?

Also, if you could travel to any point in your own personal history, your lifetime... Same questions.

Would you try to change anything?


[He has experience with trying and the resulting failure too.]
deathlessness: (freya025)
[personal profile] deathlessness
[It's only fitting that a year after Freya arrived and the mansion was behest by zombies, there would be an event where ... the mansion is behest by zombies. If anything, it's a way to keep her busy while not talking about what she saw in the various tears, and gives her a problem to solve. It doesn't honestly take her long to make a basic option for making the invisible visible, and when she appears on the network, she is looking tired and possibly covered in glitter but otherwise pleased.]

For those of us who can't see the invisible and don't feel like getting paint everywhere, I've developed a neater solution.

[She holds up a small vial of sparkly solution. Don't judge her for how glittery it is, it's the first thing she thought of.]

This liquid is spelled to cling to anything that doesn't wish to be seen. It will hopefully make our invisible friends a little easier to find, and unlike actual glitter, only sticks to things that are invisible, so minimal mess.

[Because the problem with paintballing invisible zombies is that sometimes you miss and paint gets everywhere.]

If you need them, you can come by room 207 and pick some up, or if you're in trouble, I can astral project to you. Until then, I'm going to work on something a little more ... harmful, but I wanted to at least get a partial solution out there first.

[And with that she will disconnect and go back to working on said harmful option. Feel free to drop on by or to call for help as needed. She will be there.]
choosetruth: (bex-taylor-klaus-2549334)
[personal profile] choosetruth
Action )

Video

[Georgia doesn't address the network until later, when she's had a chance to clean up. Her hair's dyed back to its usual dark brown. She has a black blazer over a white shirt, a few sizes smaller than she's used to, but they look like her clothes. She has shoes and she's seriously debating sleeping in them. And she has sunglasses, wrapping the world back in its usual comforting monotone and hiding her far too normal eyes. She looks like herself again. She nods as the recording starts.]

My name is Georgia Mason, and I can tell you for a fact that I have never been here before in my life.

[She shakes her head, holding up a hand.]

I have never been here before, and yet I remember everything. I remember space. I remember wizard school. I remember paintball and New Year's parties and writing op-eds that pissed people off and actually starting a print publication.

[It's almost comforting that she feels the same amount of disdain for print. Anything that's the same about her is something to cling to. She takes a deep breath before continuing.]

I remember a lot of things that didn't happen to me. Up to and including, my brother holding a gun to the base of my skull and shooting me before I could turn into a zombie. I know that didn't happen to me because that's not the sort of thing you live through. Those are all things that happened to Georgia Mason and I--

[She smiles shallowly, almost sadly, and forces herself to keep looking at the camera. Not like anyone can see where her eyes are pointing through the sunglasses, but it's important to her that she stays strong.]

I'm the closest thing you're gonna get. I'm a genetically identical clone with 97% of her memories, and how the fuck that can include Wonderland when I didn't remember it at the time of my death is one of many things about this place that will never make sense to me. It's up to you to decide if I still count as her. I don't know how to be anyone else.

[She adjusts her sunglasses, leaning in towards the camera and adds, in an entirely pleasant and matter-of-fact tone:]

Now. Can anyone tell me where the fuck my brother wound up? His stuff's still here, but he's not answering his phone. If Wonderland was seriously enough of an asshole to take him away before I got back, I'm going to start setting things on fire until I get him back.

[She reaches to turn off the camera, then hesitates. Nothing matters as much as finding Shaun, but that doesn't mean nothing else matters. She's Georgia Mason, for better or for worse, and she has a paper to run.]

Until I find him, address all queries about The Shattered Mirror to me. Thank you.

[She cuts the feed. Now she gets to wait. She's held herself together this long. She can manage another week. Fuck she hopes it's not more than a week.]
adaptiveimmunities: (don't mention her name)
[personal profile] adaptiveimmunities
For the time being please direct all inquiries regarding The Shattered Mirror's newsie and fictional divisions to this blog. Georgia Mason and Georgette Meissonier have both disappeared from Wonderland.

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

Thanks.
beatnomore: (43)
[personal profile] beatnomore
[ Buffy makes sure that her second entry onto the network provides a better impression than her first. So when the feed clicks on the network's first real look at her is... colorful. She's sitting cross legged at a desk wearing bright pink leggings under a purple patterned dress. Apologies to the retinas of everyone who has to view this. But she's a professional and there's no fiddling with the device once she's streaming. She just presents a brilliant, camera-ready smile. ]

Hello, Wonderland! I'm Buffy Meissonier and I'm here representing After the End Times as its Fiction lead to announce we're now actively seeking creative writing submissions. If you made it we're willing to look at it and potentially print it. This isn't limited to only fiction either. Poetry, fanfiction, creative nonfiction, humor, art... the sky is the limit so long as we can actually print it on paper.

[ She is pretty actively excited for this going by her smile. It's not quite the same as back home but the fiction department was her baby and she wants to see it up and moving again. ]

If you're curious about our submission guidelines and requirements or just have questions in general about our policies I'm here to answer them. And if you think you want to submit to the zine you can drop your entry at the After the End Times office, room 60 on the 9th floor or you can submit them to me privately through the network devices.

We're looking forward to hearing from you!

[002] text;

Mar. 5th, 2017 10:47 pm
watchmaker: (pic#1005448)
[personal profile] watchmaker
A few things have occurred to me in the time that I've been here. Mainly, that I really need a hobby. So I've decided to give back. I'm compassionate, wise, and over-brimming with life experience.

So, ask me anything. This is a test-run for an advice column I may or may not actually run based on how much Wonderland is in dire need of my help.

video;

Feb. 11th, 2017 12:35 pm
breacher: (if you had to shit where would you go?)
[personal profile] breacher
[ In hindsight, he shouldn't be too surprised. He'd heard about it happening to a number of people before in the mansion — where they're gone for, say, a solid week or so. Where they're home. Until they're not again, anyway. If that was what had happened here, well. He wasn't quite ready to come to that conclusion just yet.

But it was very, very clear that something had gone on in Wonderland in his absence, at least.

When the feed starts, he's crossing his arms, examining the room around him before holding up a book by the corner of the cover. The pages are wrinkled and yellowed, showing signs of having been wet, waterlogged. Harrison hardly seems amused.
]

Alright. Who wants to explain this? Because apparently, I seem to have missed something.

[ if that's also his way of announcing his presence to certain others in the mansion then, you know. these things happen, too. ]
choosetruth: (this time whatever it takes!)
[personal profile] choosetruth
[Georgia is using video again, staring unsmiling at the camera from behind her usual dark sunglasses. When the feed starts, she gives a nod of greeting.]

Hello, Wonderland. A few orders of business.

After careful consideration, Shaun and I have decided that the network is not the most efficient or useful tool for distributing our articles. Instead, we'll be printing out a weekly zine.

[There's only the slightest grimace as she says the word print. Most people here don't share her disdain for print. It's fine.]

We're calling it The Shattered Mirror and if anyone is interested in contributing, contact me or Shaun, or come to our office in room 60 on the ninth floor. News is our main interest, but we'll accept fiction, poetry, art, or anything else that can be printed.

[She leans forward, expression, if possible, growing even more sober.]

Secondly, I'd like to formally apologize to anyone my brother or I hurt or scared during the last event.

[She doesn't flinch as she says it. Mostly because she has a lot of practice and sunglasses to keep anything from showing on her face. The zombie that rose when she died was not her, and she wasn't responsible for its actions. Knowing that doesn't make her feel any less guilty.]

As some of you are aware, we carry a virus that causes us to reanimate upon death. Normally whichever one of us survived would make sure to put the other one down before anyone could get hurt, but in this case circumstances didn't allow for it. I wish I could tell you it won't happen again, but I detest lying, and I have no way to be sure. We will try and contain the problem, but if we fail, my only advice would be to run unless you have exceptionally good aim.

Clementine will be putting out a document on behalf of our publication with more advice for handling zombies soon.

[She gives a decisive nod and reaches to turn off the camera.]

Thank you, and have a good day.
quickgenius: (stubborn)
[personal profile] quickgenius
[FORWARD-DATED TO AFTER THE WATERS HAVE RECEDED AND THE DEAD ARE NO LONGER DEAD. Or undead as the case may be.

Waking up, soaking wet and crumpled in the hallway where she’d drowned, the memory of water filling her lungs, panic and fear making it all worse, sharp and jagged in her head, Jesse had gone back to her room, gone somewhere safe and hers, only to find that it was too quiet and slipped into her lab instead. But when she’d gone to write something down, to start work on another project... it had been nonsensical, a mishmash of words with no rhyme or reason. And her stomach had twisted with worry. Which hasn’t gone away.

Because she can’t talk. Can’t write. It’s all fine in her head, but the moment she tries to communicate, to SAY something, or write something, it goes all sideways. If she can manage words at all.

And it’s gotten worse, because something is going on. The flooding is gone but time is repeating. Still repeating, although she’d been more focused on trying to survive during the flooding to pay it much mind, then. Little hops backward in time, reliving the past couple of hours.

When the video feed comes on, she’s in her lab, hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing an oversized S.T.A.R Labs sweatshirt. Behind her is a clearboard covered in nonsensical writing that WAS her attempt to try and figure out what was happening scientifically. Something’s wrong. We’re repeating time.]


Sarcastic warning. Water re-referencing thermometer.

[Damn it. She huffs a frustrated breath. Brow furrowed as she focuses, trying her best to get what she’s thinking, what she WANTS to say, to be the actual words she’s saying.]

The cl-clock isn’t always right.

[Closer, but still not what she’s actually trying to SAY. Frustrated and angry at herself, she spins and sends some of the contents of one of the tables in her lab flying. Papers. Pens. Tools. A few odds and ends. A very familiar sight to a few people in Wonderland, but usually it’s a different Wells doing it.]
shorthair: where the sun never shines (in the pines)
[personal profile] shorthair
[Forward dated to the latter half of day 3. Clementine's been surviving like she always does, but nothing could have prepared her for discovering Georgia and Shaun- No, they're- they're zombies, and they're not themselves anymore. She's trying not to shake while she holds the fucking network post, because what the hell are they going to do?

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


Don't kill the zombies in the water.

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

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

I'm gonna figure it out.


Private to Iris

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

I ran into them while I was trying to make it to you so I couldn't really make it to you. Yet.
demonstrate: (wonder.)
[personal profile] demonstrate
summary: iris west returns to wonderland. )

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

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

to iris west, impossible is nothing.

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

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

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

1. Were you able to remember anything about Wonderland while you were home?
2. How long were you gone Wonderland-wise, and were all your Wonderland memories intact when you returned?
choosetruth: (Default)
[personal profile] choosetruth
My name is Georgia Carolyn Mason. I'm a licensed journalist from After the End Times. Five years ago, on a website that is inaccessible from this location, I started my blog and wrote my mission statement: to always tell the truth no matter the cost. For the past several months I've been following Senator Peter Ryman's presidential campaign and reporting on his progress. For the past few minutes, I had been running for my life after someone blew up my trailer. It turns out that cost was a lot higher than I ever anticipated. And that was just zombies and a government conspiracy. What will the cost be for telling this new truth: that I seem to have woken up in a literal fairytale?

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

In the meantime, if anyone here is a doctor, or even better an epidemiologist or virologist, I have some questions.
thisismadfreaky: (R U Sure tho)
[personal profile] thisismadfreaky
[Cisco had gotten the basic run down of crazy that is being dragged to Wonderland from Jesse already, so he's calmer than he could have been. A part of him is still in awe of the whole place. Literal living piece of his childhood, here. How is a person even supposed to process that? He's not sure. But Wonderland is probably better than all the crazy that was waiting for him back home, so he'll take it.

When the feed clicks on, Cisco gives an awkward wave in the general direction of his invisible audience.]
Greetings, Wonderlandians! Is that right? I don't know. [He shakes his head.] Anyway! Hi. I'm Cisco and I have the most important question for your right now. Seriously, my level of alert every morning when I get up hinges on your answer, here.

Where's the best place for coffee around here?

Also, headcount of my people is a go. Where you at, guys? Jesse told me you're here.

text;

Aug. 22nd, 2016 02:12 pm
grahamalytical: (Let it be said)
[personal profile] grahamalytical
[ Even though he's been in Wonderland for nearly two months at this point, this is the first time Will has made a post on the network, and only about the fourth time he's used his device at all. He's not a terrifically outgoing person, and it's easy for him to assume that people are probably better off without his input in most cases.

However, the network is clearly a good way to get answers and information, and ever since his conversation with Bedelia... He's been thinking a lot about "home". Been wondering if there are any people here in similar circumstances. It's been on his mind enough that eventually, he settles on simply straight-up asking people, if only to shut the train of thought down and put an end to the curiosity. And, perhaps, put himself a bit at ease. If that's even a possibility.

The question isn't posed through video, or even audio. This is more easily handled through text. And, it...makes the whole thing slightly less awkward, which doesn't hurt. ]


Is anyone out there uncertain about whether or not you'd like to go home?

Do you feel as though Wonderland may be the lesser of two evils? That you may be better off here than where you've come from?


[ Come and discuss any doubts you have about wanting to return to your world, Wonderland. Maybe you'll make him feel better about the disaster he'll be walking back into if and when he ever goes home. ]
traceron: (salute!)
[personal profile] traceron
Oh wicked, this place even comes with a comm system!

[ Look who's fresh out of the mysterious gateway portals and figuring out the method to best meet everyone all at once, eh? One very energetic Overwatch agent at your service, entirely too excited to be staring into a camera lens at the world at large. ]

Right then, hellooo Wonderland! Tracer here! [ Her first two fingers touch her temple, a jaunty little salute punctuated with a giggle. ] This is brilliant, isn't it? Out of all the pickles I've found meself in or travels I've been on, I don't think I've ever seen a place like this!

[ So many oddities! Mysterious self-populating dinner plates, closets that spit out whatever's your fancy, creepy masked fellas with odds and ends for sale. She's loving it and it is very apparent on screen, this slight woman practically vibrating to get into some trouble. ]

So what's all there to do then? Baddies to fight? Spooky caverns to spelunk? Pub runs?

As long as it's an adventure, I'm there!
[personal profile] breacher
[ Some people, when they first come to a brand new place, like to introduce themselves. They maybe get to know people, socialize and make friends or at least make nice with those who have been around longer — you know, that sort of thing.

And then there's this guy.
]

Tell me you have a clinic here.

Or a bar.

I'm not picky at the moment.


[ There's a newcomer wandering the halls of the mansion today, the brim of his baseball cap tipped low, body language cagey at best. He's doing his best to keep his head down and his hands firmly in his coat pockets — except for when he's got his device out and is tapping out messages to post to the network rapidly. It isn't long before he comes to a stop at the stairs between the fourth and fifth floor, lifting a hand to rub at his temple idly as he lowers himself down to sit for a moment.

He seems tired — exasperated, almost, but run down more than anything else. And if he happens to bear a resemblence to another recent arrival, well. That's probably entirely coincidental. Probably.
]
suicidemission: credit <user site="insanejournal.com" user="dreacons"> (pic#7443369)
[personal profile] suicidemission
[ It's like 9pm on a Friday and to say Chuck is 'drunk' is a vast understatement.

But Aussie's are built tough, so when he comes on the network, he's not even slurring. ]


Right, 's been a while, kids. We're gonna play a game. Ever hear of word association? I say a word, you say the first thing that comes to mind in association with that word.

I'll start.

Blood.

(( ooc; chuck's drunk and bored. come at him with words, feel free to threadjack if other players are okay with it, or just bounce back and forth with Chuck. ))
contranitoris: (Really?)
[personal profile] contranitoris
[ It's late at night, when most good little residents should be asleep.

The video feed focuses on the face of a man in his early 50's, only mildly disheveled, propped up against a wall in one of the many corridors of the mansion. He pushes his glasses up on his nose and offers the tight, almost sheepish smile of a prideful man gathering up the courage to ask for help. His free hand settles on the back of his neck, squeezing it. ]


While it seems customary to make an introduction, I'm afraid that this isn't, entirely what that is.

[ His cadence seemed to speed up and slow down with odd emphasis. ]

My name is Harrison Wells. A name, I am sure, some will find at least somewhat familiar.

It seems that whatever has brought me here, or by whatever means, neglected one very important piece of equipment. You see, I am--

[ He started to shift his position, he elbow driving back against the wall, but he didn't seem to get very very. ]

--I'm paralyzed from the waist down, and by whatever means I was transported here, my chair did not make the journey. If anyone would be so kind as to find some manner of assistance, I would be very grateful. Though I'm afraid I have little frame of reference for where I am, but I will help the best I can.

[ Then his tone shifts. It's rather subtle, and to the uninformed it merely sounds as though he suddenly became gravely serious. But to those he addresses, there's no mistaking the shades of the true Eobard showing through. ]

And Barry. Caitlin. Ms. West, if you've been brought up to speed. You must be careful of what you say, especially to one another. I have reason to believe we've been pulled through time as well as space, and cannot be sure our starting point was the same. Sharing certain details could cause irreparable damage to each others' timelines. The four of us will need to sort this out.

[ There was nothing more than a lift of his eyebrow and a slight cant to his head. Those he addressed would know what it meant. ]
accelerate: (pic#10349045)
[personal profile] accelerate
[ have you seen a golden streak throughout wonderland? that's barry — the flash — scoping out the place. making sure it's up to snuff and reasonably safe (ha ha, another earth being safe? oh, barry) and searching for (1) the cheshire cat (2) the caterpillar with the hookah and (3) the queen of hearts, he's found himself so disappointed not to find (4) the mad hatter. it's like he's losing this scavenger hunt no one else is playing. ]

[ he makes sure his username is BEARY 🐻 for #reasons no one will ever guess. keeping his tone cheery and upbeat, barry's close to fooling himself that he doesn't feel so empty on the inside and infinitely defeated. ]


Little Barry fell
d
o
w
n
the hole
bumped his head
and idk about my soul tbh jw if I've gone mad here??

Okay, sorry, that wasn't a real question. Siri's not even answering me so I'm guessing it's just not even a good one to ask? What kind of Wonderland doesn't even have Jitters?

Assuming I've gone mad and I'm not going to lose my head, I've decided to come to my wise fish with a specific porpoise. Fish don't go anywhere without one.

I want to know when tea-time is (seriously, guys, I'm really, really, REALLY hungry and I could use some snacks, like high on the sugar, maybe cupcakes with icing, ice-cream in the cone, chocolate ...) and if I'm invited because I kiiiiiiind of waited in the tea-room for like an hour and a half at 6PM — ON THE DOT btw — and no one turned up? Like, come on, I'm a great party guest … even though I'm over a mile high.

What do I have to do to be in the cool kid's club????

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LAYOUT BASE @ [community profile] fruitstyle