seasonforpeaches: (glee)
[personal profile] seasonforpeaches
[Enter a very bright-eyed young woman with a dorky grin.]

Greetings, Wonderland! [She interrupts herself with a quick chuckle and proceeds to speak with a lot of hand movement]

"Wonderland", listen to me. It just - it sort of rolls off the tongue nicely, doesn't it? Oh, I'm rambling.

[And here comes the awkward wave.] My name is Taylor and, while I do have several questions, they seem to be pushed aside with the roars of my hunger. Gosh, all of this Wonderland mumbo-jumbo makes a person hungry, do you feel that also?

[She sweeps away that last statement with a simple gesture of a hand movement.]

Anyways. Bonjour!

video >>

Oct. 13th, 2017 10:48 pm
geekorthodox: (☀ 32)
[personal profile] geekorthodox
[ There's a lot on her mind, a lot she could say. Maybe it would help to talk about some of the terrifying nightmares she's been having since the event ended, but that's not a conversation she's ready to have yet. It's easier for her, at least, to check up on others.

She's still a stranger to many, but you have to start somewhere. ]

This week was... [ Well. She died. And so did a lot of other people, she's guessing. So. ] Anyway. I just wanted to see if uh, you're all okay out there.

[ She's sure a lot of people are wondering who the hell she is and why she would care, but oh well. She does. ]

Right now, I'm not a super big fan of sleeping, so if you can't sleep either and you want a buddy, come find me at the diner. I'll be the one hunched over a huge cup of hot cocoa and an etch-a-sketch. [ Old school, but soothing. Thanks, Wonderland closets. ]
boonie: (pic#11032781)
[personal profile] boonie
[Someone didn't exactly have the funds to really use or own something this like homes. Backwater didn't really give you much in ways of disposable income and when everything went to shit so did the cell towers.]

How the hell's somebody supposed to actually-

[So, there you go. You get a brief glimpse of Daryl's face- the blood on his jacket and the tattered state of his clothes. Oily hair, and old sweat. The critical look on his face is masked by trying to really get a glean of how he's supposed to regularly use it and for about two minutes he's just scrolling through feeds while his camera is rolling.]

"Woodbury," mean anything to anybody? I'll be at the perimeter. Don't bother showin' if you don't fit the requirements.

[Whatever trip this was supposed to be. Daryl puts his hand over the camera, it's not like he buys into there suddenly being network communication anywhere. Before the feed goes dead (because he finally figures out how to turn it off) you get a look at the crossbow in his lap, and the knives hooked into his belt.

After closing, he manages to send a small text. Something he knows only his crew and the rest of the survivors will understand.

Governor. Tank. Geeks. Rendezvous ?

( video )

Mar. 1st, 2014 04:54 pm
monopolies: It's Percy Jackson, Shawn. (Percy Dunn the lightning thief!)
[personal profile] monopolies

[ Finally everything is set up just the way he wants it. Camera placed just behind the closed doors of the entrance wall, it's propped up to frame the hall in such a way that it looks like just any normal day in Wonderland. The real trick is turning it on at just the right moment. He decides to turn it on from behind so the video doesn't capture his initial appearance. Slipping away as quietly as possible, the video just captures a few silent seconds of the doors.


The smoke clears and, surprise surprise, guess who's standing at the center with arms cross and cocky grin in place? No Crowley, that's for fucking sure, like he'd be capable of anything this epic. For those who knew him the changes are small and subtle, probably nothing to catch amidst the chaos. A taller stature, unhindered by painful wounds, a face that's still young but no longer burdened by self-consciousness and undercurrents of fear.

In the split-second he opens his mouth, just before he speaks you might be expecting something like YOUR HERO HAS RETURNED. But no.


[ Good news: he's even more of a selfish shithead than before. Bad news: that was the good news.

God help you all.

and now a million years later do I add an obligatory nsfw warning?? don't read my threads if you value your time and integrity
alwaysnext: (abducted again)
[personal profile] alwaysnext
Anyone know how to fight a dinosaur?

[Someone got out on the wrong side of the velociraptor-susceptible bed this morning. Shirtless and rumpled and bleeding all over the toilet cistern he's sitting on, Luke's having the worst sleepover ever.

But there is a moment of peace in which to make this whispered video, and so he tacks on a maudlin revelation.]

America's stuff's disappeared. That means he's really gone, doesn't it?

[He knows it does. Doesn't stop him hoping someone will tell him otherwise.

Something heavy slams into the bathroom door, and Luke jerks back, staring for one, two tense seconds as he waits to recreate the worst scene in Jurassic Park. Outside, that shit-stirring little reptile is hissing and screeching like the smug bastard he is. He knows what he does.]

But the dinosaur's free. And mad. The dinosaur's really mad. Help. Please.

[Someone. Before he has to start surviving off toothpaste and soap flakes.]
ahousedivided: nightmare! (See you in my recurring Hunger Games)
[personal profile] ahousedivided
not ic cut; cut for gore )

[ And if you thought it would end there, you clearly have not been around America long enough. Not five minutes later a text appears on the network. ]







[ ooc: a small note that I'll be gone for the weekend to Katsucon so tags may not happen between Friday and Sunday, but I'll be right back on board once the con is over! ]
builditstrong: (the kid)
[personal profile] builditstrong
[Kid is outside, bandanna tugged high and scuffing a boot through the snow.] So how's long this whole winter bizniss last, anyhow? What's a body meant t'do, all this snow an' such? I been cooped up indoors way too long. S'quiet 'nuff 'round here 'tween events--now I reckon I'm goin' stir crazy.

They's gotta be a way t'pass th' time durin' th' cold.


Got a piece of information fer y'all, s'well. Meant t'say somethin' sooner, but life an' such got in th' way.

Las' time I talked t'the Duchess, she said somethin' 'bout handin' th' Vorpal Sword t'the Jabberwock. Jus' lettin' th' monster have it. Dunno 'f that was the crazy talkin' or 'f she was serious, but either way--monster wi' a sword like that ain't somethin' I wanna think on.

Ain't sure what t'do 'bout it, but figgered y'all should know.
unsleeved: (fuzzy)
[personal profile] unsleeved
[Loathe though Daryl is to sit around and... Well, sit around, that's what he's resigned himself to doing this afternoon.

He's already been outside, out in the woods to check on the smattering of campsites he's set up, chipped some of the ice off of various racks and logs and the tools he keeps there... But fuck if it ain't freezing; gloved or not, his fingers had gone numb much earlier than he'd liked, and that'd created a problem: hard to do much of anything when you can't feel your god damn hands. Could he have pushed through and get to the last few sites? ...Probably, but the fact had remained that while back in Georgia coming in out of the cold hadn't really been an option, here in Wonderland it'd be stupid not to take advantage of a warm place to pass the time. And so back to the Mansion he'd trudged.

Anyone with even a lick of tracking skill could have followed him back inside, at the end of a trail of melted snow (and a bit of mud) that leads from the entrance to the bar on the fifth floor. Daryl himself can be found perched on one of the tall chairs at the far end of the counter, his crossbow leaned up against the bar and his jacket draped over the back of his seat. He looks... Relaxed. Almost normal. Imagine that. Depending on when you come across him, there will be anywhere between one and five or so empty beer bottles strewn on the counter in front of him; he's not really trying to get wasted, he's just looking to pass some time... But if it happens it happens, he ain't gonna argue. He don't got shit to do right now and this is as good an activity as any. Honestly this whole situation is pretty common- nothing to see here, just business as usual...

Except for the fact that for most of the day- barring distractions- he'll be focused intently on his device, and that is a little out of the ordinary. Between the event that'd turned him into armor- complete with clunky hands that'd made it extremely difficult to type properly- and the numbness of his fingers when he'd come in from the cold today, Daryl's found... Things on the device while poking around.

...Games, if we're being specific.

And allergic to fun though he may be, even Daryl can't resist the siren song of time-wasting goodness. The beer may have had a little something to do with that too, but that's neither here nor there.

At some point, the video feed turns on, but it should be obvious from the way the camera is aimed directly up Daryl's nose that it wasn't intentional. Anyone lucky enough to check the network around this time will be treated to not only every detail of his nasal cavity, but also the occasional grunt or curse, scowls and frowns and scrunched noses interrupted by his hands as he moves them over the screen in an ultimately fruitless attempt to beat his last knockoff Minesweeper score.]

Son of a bitch--

[You've essentially been butt-dialed, Wonderland. Embrace it.]

[OOC: Feel free to hit him up via video to let him know that his failure at fake Angry Birds is being broadcast for the world to see, or head down to the bar to give him some pointers on fake Baby Monkey Going Backwards On A Pig. Or have a drink. Whichever suits you!]
nofucksconjured: (One two for your bad tattoos and)
[personal profile] nofucksconjured
[ Hannah's sitting on the bed in her room, jacket off. She's tapping her wand against one tattoo'd shoulder and looking quite put-out. This has been quite an unnerving week. ]

Okay, so, fucked up stalker statues aside, color me curious. Are there training areas here? Or any place I can practice a few spells without potentially killing someone by accident? Mostly because one, I don't want to get rusty if this kind of shit's a regular thing here. And two... Trying to blow up something that doesn't blow up? Talk about a mood killer. I've got some magic frustration to work out.

Also. Anyone here good with ink? I hate to cheat on my tattoo guy, but this whole "bam, suddenly you're twenty years older" shit has me thinking. I'd like to get my sleeves done before I'm wrinkly. I can't be a bad ass tattoo'd grandma without the tattoos, right?

[ Priorities. She's got 'em. ]
selfrespecting: (ready)
[personal profile] selfrespecting
[The first day Martha had spent confirming that her worst fears were true, that this event is because of her. Waking up dizzy had been the first sign, but then the statues had started to appear outside of the building, still and silent and watching.

She doesn't know what the Weeping Angels will be capable of here in Wonderland, but there's no question that it won't be good. She does some patrolling, but without one of those -- those screwdrivers to take readings, there's no way to predict what they'll do.

The second day is when she observes them making their stuttered way toward the mansion, officially in attack mode, and that's when she decides that she needs to make an announcement.

She's standing at a window when she makes the broadcast, her gaze mainly turned away from the screen. She's barely even taking the risk of looking directly at her mobile's camera.]

I'm sure you've all seen the statues by now. This event is from my world. [She isn't scared to admit that.] They're called the Weeping Angels, and they're a very dangerous alien race. You cannot take your eyes off of them or they'll be able to come after you, quicker than you could ever imagine.

[She shifts the communicator around to be in front of her, so that she can be looking at the screen and out the window at the same time.] You can't even blink, or they'll get to you. We have strength in numbers here -- if we have at least one person watching them at all times, we'll be fine.

Back home, these things would send people into the past and then feed off of their unlived futures, but here? There's no telling, I'm sorry. But you have to be careful, all of you. If anyone finds out what they're capable of, let me know. I'll be on the move to help as much as I can.

[That's about all the warning she can give, but she finishes with:] Remember, don't blink.

[OOC: Martha will be making her way around the mansion and the grounds from here on out, so feel free to run into her wherever!]
selfrespecting: (honest)
[personal profile] selfrespecting
[Somewhere around mid-morning, Martha's face shows up on the network. She's seated at the desk in her room and while she has an air of business about her, she starts off with a smile.]

Hello, everyone. I had a few things I wanted to ask you all about. [She draws a hand through her hair.]

First of all, I was wondering about memory. We all know that it's a large part of why we're here, so I wanted to know what your experience was with losing memories. I don't mean like when someone leaves and comes back and remembers nothing, but... less noticeable things. Gaps, things that don't quite make sense... [Martha's guess is that there's a more subtle kind of memory siphoning going on here, and she'd like to know more about it.]

Or if you have any experience with selling a memory to a vendor, that would count too. [She knows a certain someone who would fit into that category, but there may be others too.]

The second thing is... [She lets out a sigh and straightens in her seat.]

I know we don't have much in the way of medical professionals around here these days, but with the jabberwocky in our future, I'm going to need all the help I can get. [She had Peter for a short while, but he's gone now, which means she's essentially been running the clinic on her own.]

If you have any experience or if you're willing to learn some basic first aid, then I'll do my best to teach you. I can't exactly be choosy with who I take on as help right now, so let me know if you're interested.

[This does not mean that America should volunteer, however. Martha's hoping he's too busy feeling sorry for himself to notice this. Fingers crossed.] And that's all for now. Thank you, everyone. [She reaches forward and the feed cuts off.]


Jan. 7th, 2014 09:29 pm
thneedifestdestiny: No One Knows I'm Gone - Tom Waits (These here are my desires)
[personal profile] thneedifestdestiny
[So, on Christmas, The Once-ler found his stocking completely full of yarn. It was so full of yarn that when he dumped it on his bed and looked back at the empty stocking, he was pretty sure they shouldn't have all been able to fit in there in the first place (which was kind of weird, but Wonderland is always weird, so whatever).

At first, he was kind of annoyed - what the heck was he supposed to do with all of this? They weren't Truffula tufts, and if he'd wanted dumb regular yarn he could have just gotten it out of the closet. He's practically swimming in the stuff now, and they're useless for making Thneeds.

But, he was walking around earlier today and noticed the forest on the edge of the grounds, cold and bare. And suddenly, he knew exactly what to do with the yarn.

About two hours and thirty-seven minutes later, the edge of the forest is starting to look significantly more colorful. Anyone who goes to investigate the sudden and mysterious rainbow yarn bombing will find the Once-ler high up in the trees, hanging upside down and knitting like a fiend.
bethegoodgirl: (black ice)
[personal profile] bethegoodgirl
[Elsa's usual defense mechanism is to hide in her room when things are strange and she basically hasn't left her room at all, instead choosing to pace around and look at all the snow outside with extreme worry. It's supposed to be summer, so why the heck is there snow on the ground? There's basically only one reason she can think of.]

[The communication device is completely foreign to her too, but after awhile she starts fiddling with it and accidentally brings up the video. The camera jostles around, showing glimpses of a young girl with white hair and a...rather weird room. For one thing, it looks pretty damn regal. For another, parts of it look like they've been frosted over.]

[Elsa is constantly muttering to herself as she paces.]

Conceal, don't feel, don't feel...don't be afraid, Elsa, you're the queen...

[She keeps going for a minute or two before she takes a better look at the device and sees her own face appearing there live.]


[She tosses the device away, effectively killing the feed.]

[Several minutes later she's back, but in audio this time.]

lightgunhustler: (115)
[personal profile] lightgunhustler
[The mansion decorating itself for Christmas should have been expected, really. There isn't much about Wonderland that surprises Jo by now, if only because she's learned that anything can happen. General expectations aside, the place has been overdue for something, and as events go, Christmas decorations are pretty damn tame. Definitely better than zombies.

If it were just decorations, she wouldn't be bothered. She might be anxious and waiting for the other shoe to drop for a day or two, but she's been starting to grow confident -- perhaps foolishly so -- that most things that Wonderland will throw at them are largely up front about being terrible if that happens to be the flavor of the week.

It's the fact that people seem to be missing that has her worried. Waking up to an empty bed in the middle of the night hadn't been strange on its own, but Tom's hoodie and sling being left behind was. When morning rolled around and there was still no sign of him, she'd tried to get in touch with Dean. No luck. Then she'd tried James. Same story. By the middle of the day, she's tried messaging the aforementioned parties several times with no response and found no sign of them anywhere they're supposed to be. She's sent out a few other messages as well, but not all of them have turned out to be duds.

Seems like reason enough to go out and become a one-woman search party, but it's worth addressing the network with, too.]

I'm missing a few people. Tom Hanniger, Dean Winchester, and James Potter.

[She's beginning to think it's safe to assume there might be others missing, too. Might as well ask.]

If anyone has seen them-- hell, if you guys are out there, let me know right away. If anyone else is missing someone, give me their names. I'm going to go look. They've been gone long enough that I think it's time to worry.

[She can only measure the time by Tom's disappearance, but he's been gone since-- well, about the time the sound of the mansion decorating itself woke her up just after midnight.]

Feel free to get in touch with me if you've noticed anything else strange beyond what the mansion has done to itself. If there's anything out of place, I'd like to know.

Private Text to Ellen Harvelle & Sam Winchester; mid-morning. )

Private Text to Allison Argent, noon. )

[Any resistance members will be able to find Jo out in the hideout around noon and for about an hour afterwards. After that, there will be no standing still. She'll dedicate the rest of her day to searching the mansion and grounds as a whole, often backtracking and retracing her steps or double-checking certain areas. By late night, she can be found in the bar, but this time she won't be serving anyone: instead, she'll be seated on a stool at the far end, looking frustrated as she makes her way through her second beer while obsessively checking her phone for messages.]
ahousedivided: It's Thursday. Is it really? (You call it insane. We call it Tuesday.)
[personal profile] ahousedivided
[ Day two. Winter is coming. Haha just kidding winter's already fucking here, and America hates it. Not a good day. But that may also be due to the fact that he's missing a fucking hand. No worries though; even with the relative fragility that comes with being human, even though he's suffered blood loss and would probably die of an infection if the event went on longer, he's still the same ridiculous man with very creative solutions to his problems.

By that I mean he has attached a chainsaw to the bloody stump. This is it. This is his destiny. With dirty hair, wild eyes that look like he's either had too many drugs or not enough, possible flea infestation and incredibly appropriate outfit, he is the absurdity that reality wants to forget. But no, dear universe, you must live this nightmare again. The universe stares down with horror and whimpers, oh god no why.

Because Evil Dead is a great frickin movie and I will emulate it always, that's why.

America turns on his feed, holding up the chainsaw hand (covered in undead brain matter and other gross things). He smiles like a man whose sanity has just decided to take a nice little holiday. So really, nothing that out of the ordinary for him.


Man I love bein' human! And here I was worried I was gonna die of boredom before anything else got to me! At least I don't gotta drill day in and day out, but still, only so many times ya can whack something in the head before it gets repetitive.

But that just means I gotta get creative!

[ God help you all. ]

And if any of y'all need some shuffling corpses smacked around, you know who to notify!

...Me. The answer is me.

[ A note that this post also serves as a catch-all, so if your character wants to meet up with him a different day, just specify! He'll have both hands the first day. ]
unsleeved: (hrm)
[personal profile] unsleeved
[For those who know him- and his story- it should come as no surprise that Daryl's face pops up on the network now, backlit with a hazy, mid-morning sky, bare branches, and a landscape that's probably unfamiliar to everyone but him. And he doesn't look happy: hair damp and clinging to skin already streaked with dirt, his expression probably says it all-

Welcome to my world.

But just in case it doesn't (and for those who haven't heard about this crap yet):]

It's the brain. Only way to put 'em down. Don't let 'em grab you, don't let 'em scratch you, don't let 'em bite you. Hell, don't let 'em anywhere near you if you can help it. [He scowls.] ...Easier said than done since we're crammed in here like a bunch of damn sardines- [never before has Wonderland made him feel more like an ant trapped under a magnifying glass........] -so I'm gonna say it again: Brain.

[If he seems more annoyed than anything else, it's because he is; this is business as usual for him, but just like back home there are people here he cares about, people who don't deserve this shit. That's his main concern. This won't last forever, but he'd like to keep the horrible deaths to a minimum if at all possible...]

Got some stuff out here, y'all can come find me if you need it-- [He pauses, and for a fleeting second considers making an apology... But the moment passes without one. Anyone wanting to ream him out for bringing this hell to Wonderland can do so when it's over- ain't no time for in-fighting unless someone don't got a pulse.] Out by the water, where the beach used to be. Don't got too many of 'em over here yet... [And of course as soon as the words leave his mouth, a figure shuffles into view of his camera, drawn, no doubt, by Daryl's deep and enduring love for the things.....

The feed ends there. DARYL SMASH.]

[[ooc: HIT HIM UP HERE VIA VIDEO OR ACTION IDK. He's at the quarry area now, but he'll go wherever he's needed. He has a stockpile of crap with him so if you wanna grab something from him there's that. Also walker-exterminating lessons, those are also a thing.

ALSO. This is a catchall, so if there's something you wanna do with him on a day other than the first day, just specify that and I'll roll with it! He'll be roaming so feel free to assume he's wherever you want/need him to be!]]
symbolised: (ugh u suck sadddd)
[personal profile] symbolised
[A girl with braided brown hair and grey eyes appears on screen. In the background is the stables, so she's facing the mansion. She arrived last night, woke up nearly drowning in the pool and pulled herself out. This isn't like any arena she's ever seen. There's no precedent for this. Usually you're out in the open, not in a gigantic mansion. She assumed, for awhile, that they'd just changed everything on her, or captured her, took her to the Capitol to kill her in private. Or torture her.

But she was able to break out too easily. She didn't see any Peacekeepers and if she was as dangerous as Snow thought, she knew she would've been chained to something. So she's been kidnapped by someone else. She has no idea how they did it-- how they intercepted her between the time she started moving toward the arena and before she got there. She doesn't understand it. She can't even imagine what's happening to her family while she's here. To Gale. To Peeta.

She needs to get out.

So, her face appears on the screen, and it's set-- determined.

If anyone can hear me, my name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm from District 12, and I need to get back. People depend on it.

[Short and sweet and to the point.]
crosscompiler: ([Sprite] Wistful)
[personal profile] crosscompiler
The mirror network bridge is gone. The computer system on the mirror side was likely consumed during the last event, when the mirror side vanished. I still have an archive of all the mirror transmissions to that point, but we won't be able to observe their communications any longer until some other solution can be implemented. If you would like to see any of the mirror network transmissions, you may arrange a meeting with Alter Ego and I - please avoid speaking about such matters on the network, as we are still unsure how secure communication over the network is. Please let me know if you have any ideas on how to re-establish the connection, or know of any alternative methods that can be employed.

cheerleader: (Default)
[personal profile] cheerleader
[The rooftop is such a nice place to brood. She's been back for right under a week at this point, having shown up just in time for another event has left her in a sour mood. She's needed time to herself, to think and piece things together, to convince herself being back here is definitely real.

When she flips on her device and starts recording, Claire's face is different than it was the last time she addressed anyone over the network. She looks older, with straight and short hair, and when she speaks she sounds older as well.

It's only a little unsettling to not remember a thing about this place until you're brought back. I've been through some pretty crazy things the past few years, but this place still finds ways to freak me out.

[There's a long pause, and she looks almost confused.]

I mean, I'm used to things not making any sense, but the way everything here works has to be outside reality. There wasn't even an eclipse for that last event.

[Which would only make sense to people who know her power is activated and deactivated back home by eclipses...which would be a grand total of no one. So she'll just look like weird girl that likes to mention an eclipse, that's okay by her.

She opens her mouth to say more, but instead ends up clamping her jaw shut and looking out over the rooftop. Time to end the recording so she can squeeze more brooding in.


Sep. 26th, 2013 12:56 am
thneedifestdestiny: No One Knows I'm Gone - Tom Waits (It means that someone...)
[personal profile] thneedifestdestiny
So uh. These events. They're pretty crazy, huh? Superheroes and weird murder schools...

[The Once-ler is standing before the camera, rubbing at the back of his neck. It's a very deliberate broadcast, to ask a very specific question.]

But, do you guys think they actually...I don't know, mean anything?

[He laughs awkwardly at his own question, wanting to seem like he thinks it's stupid.]

I mean, that's just dumb, right? Just because this stupid place keeps making someone do bad things in events doesn't mean they're actually bad...


[Who knows? But he shuts off the camera after that.]
algidity: ((/) Up And Over)
[personal profile] algidity
[ The video shows a curly haired teenager looking far far more healthy and... not drugged looking than the last time he'd popped up on the network. Yeah, so this time he's not chock full of wolfsbane, but he's not even going to address that. There's also a little orange tabby on his shoulder, claws sunk into his coat for purchase. Thanks to one Cecil Baldwin the werewolf has a kitten.

He's not the most social, sort of an introvert unless he's familiar with who he's talking to. So he hasn't really gotten to know many of the people in Wonderland. He's not stationary, no, he's been wondering around Wonderland trying to get a feel for the place. Walking and talking, well, at least he's sort of kind of good at multitasking... He hasn't run into anything yet. ]

Do you ever stop and think like, "what if I'm actually in a coma right now and this is all a weird dream?"

[ Some real deep thinking going on obviously. But he's sort of bored, wondering around Wonderland wasn't actually all as interesting as he'd expected. He should have asked Scott or Allison to join him... But oh well. ]

Because I'm really starting to get that feeling from this place.


Aug. 29th, 2013 03:44 pm
cheerleader: (I'm in trouble)
[personal profile] cheerleader
[Claire's room is filled with teddy bears. All shapes and sizes piled up on her bed, as well as in a little pile on the floor. Some might say she has a teddy bear obsession, she can blame her dad attempting to buy her love and affection with teddy bears from around the world on that. But that's neither here or there at this point in time, she's currently looking as if she's just done something horribly wrong and has no idea how to fix it.]

Has anyone ever gotten anything really weird out of the closets? Weird as in close to what you wanted, but a lot more dangerous and potentially deadly than what it should be?

[There's an adorable sound of an animal making whining growling noises, one that perhaps a young bear might make. Claire jostles her phone, and drops it on her bed. There's an up close view of a teddy bear with a red bow around its neck, and Claire's voice is clearly heard telling something no and to stay put in an exasperated raised whisper. Whatever it is she's talking to makes noises of protest and whines in return.

A minute or so later, she retrieves her phone, huffing in frustration.

The closet doesn't exactly do returns, either. But...maybe it won't be much of a problem?

[She turns her phone now, where a bear cub is sitting in the middle of the disaster that is now her bedroom. You guys can see her problem, right?]
thinblueline: ([±] somethin's not addin' up)
[personal profile] thinblueline
Gone. )

[Blake sends a simple text.]

Blaine Anderson's gone. I'm pretty sure he's returned to Lima, to McKinley, and to his friends and family. He's a good kid. I think he'll be all right.

[text; private to Crowley]

Forgotten )
unsleeved: (rough around the edges)
[personal profile] unsleeved
[It takes him a little while to collect himself, as the memories (most jumbled and incomplete thanks to the amount of shit he'd been pumping himself full of for the past few days) slowly filter back in bit by bit, but eventually he gets it together enough to ask what he needs to ask.

When he pops up on the feed his face is drawn and tired, the bags under his eyes even more pronounced than usual despite the fact that he'd essentially been "sleeping" for an entire day.]

Somethin' got me down in the caves. [And his tone makes it obvious that he doesn't mean "got me a birthday present". He looks down then, unsure how to put this in a way that isn't cryptic or confusing... But after a few seconds of lip-chewing and offscreen callous-picking he continues, figuring that if anything had happened, it'll be pretty clear what he means:] ...I hurt anybody?

[If he hadn't, this is gonna drag up a whole bunch of questions he'd prefer not to touch... But he needs to know what he did after the lights went out, and if that means outing himself and explaining his situation back in Georgia, well... It's the least he can do. There could be people who are owed one hell of an explanation.

And he considers elaborating now but thinks better of it, cutting the video feed abruptly to send a private text to America:]

that shit upstairs gotta go if you havent taken care of it already
repentant: (42)
[personal profile] repentant
[When the video pops on, a very happy and already buzzed Oliver is there grinning like a moron.]

Hey, Wonderland. I figure now is as good of a time as any to celebrate my arrival here. So in honor of me, I'm throwing a little get together for everyone that'd like to come on down. I did a little investigating the other day and I am happy to say that I found a room large enough to house all of you crazy people.

[The video pans over to a nicely decorated ball room with tables of food and drink. It's looking more like a club and less like a fancy dance room. He's somehow managed to get a jukebox from the closet and drag it there. Everything is all set up and ready to go.]

So anyone that feels the need to party knows where to come. All the food and alcohol you can handle and then some. If you're looking for a good time, look no further. There ain't no party like an Oliver Queen party.

[He'll finish it off with a drink and head back over to the fully stocked bar.

[ooc: consider this your giant mingling log of bad life choices. You can have people reply by video or just set up threads to get into shenanigans with other people! Enjoy yourselves ♥]
lowkeyangel: (☀ a-hah!)
[personal profile] lowkeyangel
[If you think you can hear music, that's probably because you can. If you're paying attention to your comm, or you're near a certain hallway of the mansion, at least. The tune may or may not sound familiar, but it's most definitely coming from a sudden forest that seems to have sprouted up overnight.

Well. Maybe 'field' is a better term.

It's no ordinary field, of course. Those giant roses, daffodils, tulips and pansies (and many more) are definitely the ones doing the singing. And they have very fine voices indeed, harmonizing together and swaying with the beat. In fact, the flowers spill farther than just the one hallway, but not too much. The main issue here is that the flowers are as big as dinner plates, and they seem to have faces of a sort. But some lie in piles of petals - Wonderland's already started to beat them back, it seems. You may find navigating the hallway to be difficult, given that the flowers seem intent on swaying with anyone who strolls by.

The creator of this chaos is sitting, casually, in a lawn chair next to a blue pansy.]

I hear they take requests. But you'd have to ask them.

[Apparently Gabriel's tired of the blood and confusion and has gone right for balancing it out with silly.]
justguidelines: (☠ for future reference a lint roller)
[personal profile] justguidelines

[When the feed kicks on, the most obvious thing is that the air is full of soot. Or smoke. Or maybe both, though the ratio isn't really all that important. Hector's got it smeared down one cheek, as though he's wiped his face with a dirty hand, and across the front of his shirt, invoking the same idea.

However, it's apparent just from his expression that he is having an absolute blast, and his grin couldn't get any wider if it tried.]

If ye have need of the sixth floor, I suggest ye watch your step. Might have gotten a little overzealous with the grenades. They work a treat to blow the bloody things apart, but.


They work just as well on walls and floors, don't they.

[He gives a snort, before another cloud of smoke, along with the sound of the grenade exploding, goes off behind him, and he kills the feed.]

foresaw: (It looks like you're in love with him.)
[personal profile] foresaw
[ Isaac might have kept to himself. He might have hidden away and spoken to no one and made no posts to the network, silent to the point of non-existence. But you're in luck, Wonderland, because thanks to your little hellhound outbreak, newcomer Isaac Mendez has decided to grace you with his presence. You're so very lucky.

He's kept his eyes and ears open, and apparently hellhounds are pretty dangerous or something? Who would have thunk it, but people are getting hurt, and he really isn't fond of that when something can possibly be done to prevent it. Also, it would sure be nice to focus on something beyond his own angst and guilt.


[ What was that, buddy? This man's voice is cracking and raspy from lack of use. Not too social, this one. He clear his throat and tries again. ]

I need--if I could just get painting supplies, I might be able to find a way to help. I know, it sounds crazy, but...if anyone knows where I can find some...I would be appreciative.

[ He doesn't sound sure of himself at all. ]
petabytes: (-Ashamed)
[personal profile] petabytes
[ Not long after Daryl's message appears, a new message begins to appear on the next page, in neat (if somewhat rushed) handwriting. ]

Finished repairing damage left by mirror self - my copy of the database is unaccounted for. Mirrors may now know about the bridge. Network transmissions up to this point have been archived and encrypted. AE will alert me if bridge becomes inactive. Do not attempt to interfere with real-side system, location must remain secret as long as possible.



LAYOUT BASE @ [community profile] fruitstyle