crab: (13 █ because it all burned down)
[personal profile] crab
OKAY, INTERRUPTING YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED 24/7 VAPID BULLSHIT FEED FOR SOMETHING I'VE BEEN MEANING TO TALK ABOUT FOR A WHILE.
I ASK THAT YOU DO US ALL A FAVOR AND QUIT SCRATCHING YOUR SEED FLAPS LONG ENOUGH FOR SOME OF THIS TO PENETRATE THE DENSE, FLAKY IDIOT CRUST ENCASING YOUR COLLECTIVE CRANIUMS.
DON'T WORRY, I'LL GIVE YOU A MOMENT, I KNOW IT'S ASKING A LOT.
ARE WE ALL PAYING ATTENTION? ARE OUR WANDERING HANDS FORCIBLY RESTRAINED, PERHAPS WITH SOME MANNER OF CUFFING DEVICE?
GOOD. LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS.

incredibly important announcement pertinent to all existing imports *citation needed )
heroofjustice: (I've ever known before)
[personal profile] heroofjustice
[It took him a little while, but he decided. He's registering. He's going to be legitimate and law abiding: school, job, steady housing--for now. Until he figures out what's really going on here.]

Hi, I'm Kerry.

[He's sure to smile. Smile, but look a bit nervous. Act like a normal kid. He's sort of a normal kid, so it shouldn't be too hard.]

It's nice to meet everybody. [He studies the communication device as he talks, a little bemused. He's still not used to it, to the thought that he can talk to all the other people in his position this way.] We don't have this stuff where I come from...

[Gather information. That's the most important thing, to start. You need to know where you are, what's going on, and who you're with before you can know what to do. Natalia taught him that intel is the first step, and he's going with her teachings. He always does. He wishes she were here, but she isn't, and now he's the one in charge of the operation.]

I was wondering if, you know... there's somebody who can help me out. I've never been to any America, and I don't know about this America, and there's a lot I don't understand, about the politics and everything. So I wanted to know if you had any ideas about it.

[He isn't sure why his father never took him to America, but he didn't. Maybe it wasn't a good place to hide from the Mages' Association. But that would have been the America in his world, in 1976. Not this place.]

I don't mean what they say, I mean what you think. Since I'm trying to figure it out, I want to know what other people think.

[Really, what he wants isn't more information from them. Not that that isn't potentially useful, but what he wants most is to know more about the people who were brought here with him, the other "heroes". That's something it's not so easy to research. He wants to hear how they explain things, and what they choose to say, to him or to anyone.

Are they good, or are they evil? That's important for him to know. It's a matter of life or death, but he keeps smiling, like he used to. He brightens.
]

Oh yeah, and where's good to eat around here?
crab: (28 █ and with a little bit of luck)
[personal profile] crab
Before I get into anything else, if anyone has any healers and/or narcotics handy, I'd appreciate it if they could be delivered to this [ insert .pdf attachment ] address. Thanks.

Now that's out of the way, let's get to the real purpose of this broadcast. I suggest you drop whatever vastly unimportant rubbish it is you're wasting your vastly unimportant time with and pay attention, as this greatly concerns all of you.

Most imPorts operate under the assumption that when you leave here, you go back to your native universe, resulting in the never-ending wave of newbies telling us that, no, really, the world is at stake, person nobody cares about is going to suffer a fate worse than death only I can prevent in approximately point three seconds, I left the stove on, my problems are unique and more important and time sensitive than any of my predecessors have ever been, so please, make history by making me the first imPort to ever be returned to the sorry butt crevice I crawled out of just through asking.

Most people will tell you that nobody decides when you go back. It just happens. It's random. No one can predict it. But you will go back! And, conveniently, it will be at the exact instant you left. With no memory of ever having arrived here. Sometimes you might come back from a different point in time, after a few days or years, with an influx of memory from your time here upon arrival. Sometimes you come back without it. That's random, too.

But nobody can prove that.

I've been over this before, but the gist of it is, your options in "going back", are either to be effectively erased from existence through having your memories of here erased, or sent back to a dead or dying timeline to await your inevitable doom. There is no going back. It's just a lie we tell ourselves to make ourselves feel better when one of our friends blips out of existence. Nobody goes back! Nobody is ever going to go back!

[ There's a pause, where he seems to catch his breath, something close to a groan, before he goes on. ]

I was serious about the healers or drugs. Sooner rather than later.

01: text

Apr. 12th, 2014 12:15 am
hothead: (032)
[personal profile] hothead
[ Somewhere around two in the morning: ]

stepford houses and glowing tattoos are pretty sweet deals as far as bagging and tagging goes, but it doesn't matter how well it's dressed up- nothing good ever comes from being in someone else's pocket. the dupes might have been assholes, but at least they were on the level.

but that's probably already been said on here a thousand times, right? morality this and conspiracy that, shut up already. getting to the point:

if you're registered, save the speech. if you're not, did the government keep their promise and leave you alone?

and for anyone who would rather shoot themselves in the face than talk about registration one more freaking time, i'm taking suggestions for superhero names. smoke theme required, bad puns preferred, winner earns my very sincere gratitude.
alofts: <user name="hoar"> (Default)
[personal profile] alofts
[ Here was a man with a narrow, heart-shaped face sporting a split lip under sunken grey eyes with a sharp cruelty that jarred with his otherwise youthful appearance. Cracked leather suspenders over a white button down with a lopsided cravat created had him screaming 'Newsies reject.' Despite the fat lip and the caustic air to him he look otherwise unbothered. Bored, if anything. ]

If I'm not really just sitting here with my thumb up my ass talking to a slab of glass [ That voice was way too deep that little diaphragm to boom out, but that was Levi ] then maybe someone knows why I should care what some pig dragging me around his carriage so fast like he had to take a shit was going on about.

[ After graphically accusing whatever poor soldier had escorted him of having poor bowel control, Levi started straightening his cravat with a modicum of fussbudget behavior that didn't come with someone who spoke like the kid who learned a new bad word. ]

And where's the Atlantic?

audio;

Mar. 25th, 2014 09:49 pm
falteringly: (pic#7108447)
[personal profile] falteringly
Hello? Is this-- [ He's uncertain as to whether or not anyone can actually hear him at this point. What he's been told hardly overshadows the truth of the matter, and that truth is that he isn't dead. At least the phone is easy to manage. ] Uh, what am I even supposed to do with this?

[ It's quiet for an indefinite amount of time aside from very light breathing, rather composed given the abruptness of the situation. Then, there's a slow breath: resignation. ]

My name is Castiel. I'm... [ He hesitates. ] What I am isn't relevant to this request - I need your help. The information I've been given seems to be incorrect, and there is more at risk than what these people have told you. Please.

I have to go back.

[ Or learn the finer details, the truth. With being told whether or not those he considers friends are here. And whether or not his name or the unexplained invitation garners the wrong kind of attention doesn't necessarily occur to him. Not when the device cuts out shortly after and leaves him to his own devices one again. At the very least, his location hasn't been compromised, and he's still warded if angels happen to exist here; he can determine cause and effect later. ]

Audio

Mar. 24th, 2014 02:15 pm
entirely_empathetic: and also a bag of dicks (Default)
[personal profile] entirely_empathetic
Out of pure, idle curiosity, how active a part does the law play concerning imPorts? Vigilantism has been covered quite thoroughly. No ambiguity there. But what about everything else? Say... theft, extortion, or murder; to name a few. Do the same rules apply?

What I'm getting at is: how blurred are the lines between good behavior and bad in the eyes of the law here? The fact that we're here to act as super powered errand runners means we get some leeway. But how much? Knowing how much we can get away with would be helpful to some, I'm sure... and perhaps a comfort to others.
dissemble: (hmmm allright)
[personal profile] dissemble
[Did you know you had a Civil War Museum, residents of Heropa? If you didn't, be sure to pay attention to what you can see in the background of this man's video. It's a wonderful museum, well organized and very educational.

The man in the video is dressed unassumingly in overalls. He's shutting a door behind him and locking it- obviously he thinks closing time is the best time to greet the rest of the network.
Well, it takes all kinds, doesn't it? His voice is calm and there's almost a neighborly tone to it.]


Hi- I'm, uh. I'm only new here so maybe there's a memo I missed or something, but I was wondering about what exactly we're supposed to be doing here. I'm a fairly simple kind of a guy- I like to call things how I see them. Call a pitchfork a pitchfork, you get the picture.

Now, I'm under the impression that I've been kidnapped and brought to Florida against my will. Not only that- but I've been branded like a piece of cattle. Yet some of you seem to be suggesting I've been done a favor of some kind.

[A pause as he locks the front doors of the museum behind him, checks they're securely shut, and moves away from the building. His tone begins shifts away from good-natured.]

That's a little rude, don't you think? Bringing us all here without any consultation and then asking us to thank them for it? That's fairly arrogant of them, right?

[Wait- was that a scream in the background?]

Now, I don't know you and you don't know me- but I'm sure there's a better way to resolve our differences than having all of us lying down in the dirt and letting them piss all over us.

[As he moves away from the building those of you who were admiring the fine architecture will notice that there are flames coming out of the windows. And yes- those are definitely screams you can hear now.

Lucifer is looking frankly into the camera once more.]


Just my take on things.


[The feed ends.


ooc: this is why you don't give lucifer a job as assistant curator at the local civil war memorial.

heroes- the poor people trapped inside the museum need your help! Lucifer won't be sticking around to deal with the fallout but please go ahead and threadjack to organise/actionspam rescues on this post!]
premorse: (024)
[personal profile] premorse
[When the feed clicks on and the machine hums, darkness envelops the figure standing in the middle. It's either nighttime or he's found himself a nice, dark place, shadows projected on dimly lit skin.

The glow of the tattoo is obvious on his forearm, turned to the camera for everyone to see. It's clear the man wants it to be the first thing people pay attention to.]


This thing.

[It reads 'UNSETTLED'. He lowers his arm.]

Never been a fan of being branded.

[And he's been branded, more than once. First by his brother's last breath of revenge, then by Kaena's ownership. He was a slave and he was tortured, and this reminder of her scars is in no way welcome to the man who's barely gotten a footing in his freedom.]

I want it off.

Name your price. I'll tell you where to meet me.

[Since he imagines there has to be a way, and he imagines the government doesn't want the imPorts to know about it. But where else could he approach people about it? General population doesn't seem the way to go, so this will have to do.

The feed disconnects, now as quiet as the man behind it.]

[Video]

Feb. 26th, 2014 01:02 pm
attractedtodarkness: (Default)
[personal profile] attractedtodarkness
[One teenage girl with long brown hair draped down the sides of her face is staring at her new phone incredulously. Her tone one of disbelief and sarcasm.]

"Don't worry, we're the [Insert air quotes here] 'good guys'"? Seriously? Talk about mega government conspiracies. I'm not buying any of that bullshit.

[There's a pause as she reaches for something off camera]

First thing's first, if anyone has a lighter I can borrow, I want to burn the shit out of this file. [she waves the back of her personnel file in front of the camera briefly] I don't know how they got my information but I'm not about to share it. And if someone can lend me enough cash for a flight to Los Angeles, it'll be great.

[she turns away from the phone, seemingly about to end her message before turning back]

Oh, right. If you're my roommate, I only have one rule: Don't touch my stuff.
nestingdevil: ➥ pantaloons@dreamwidth (♠ } i'm a man of wealth and taste)
[personal profile] nestingdevil
[The feed's a little erratic. Flipping and turning and it's very clear from the get-go that the owner of the device has it shoved pocket-deep with the switched turned on. From the compromised position, the recording doesn't illuminate much. Just a bit of the mid-afternoon sun creeping in, edging out a hand with thick-knuckles in a stream-line of gold. However, despite being slightly muffled, a voice does come through the line. Thick and sultry, proud with a hum that seems to hold out each syllable. Grazing against teeth as the man says one thing only:]

Thanks, pal.

[The smile is practicably audible and wet. Deadly-sharp and two dull clacks of a heel follow. The owner's a bit distracted - as if he doesn't know that he's turned the whole network into a one-man show - and he knocks solidly on the hood of a car. Once, twice. Sending it off as an engine growls and wheels kick tiny stones down the pavement. For a few seconds, it's only the rush of air as a thumb snatches the device. And then, finally, it sees the light of day.]

Ah, right. [The feed flips. Head over heel as it's tossed up and snatched in a solid grip. For a hot-second, there's a flash of fur, a catch of leather. Until it settles to the side, peering upwards to highlight the underside of a throat. Round panes of glass make up a pair of shades that seem to swallow the sun high up in the air and the man smiles. Really smiles. Pulling back his lips and it's like the jaws of a shark opening wide. Points that are razor-cut and they line up, tooth by tooth, in a terrible and wicked row.] That was a little rude, wasn't it?

[So maybe the initial tuning-in was intentional. Either way, present company doesn't seem too bothered. Instead, he shrugs. Tilting his head to the side and his eyebrows dip into small U(s). Following the silver-rims of his sunglasses as he raises his other hand to the feed. He gives two taps to the temple, knocking his skull to punctuate his point. Whatever that point is.] Well, I gotta say - this is new. But then again - [His lips close up, his grin smarmy. As if could have the whole world in the palm of his hand.]

- there's no such thing as no such thing.

[The stranger slides his heel back, letting his shoulders sag forward. Like every part of him is entirely boneless and he shoots his head over the collar of fur framing his neck. The mockery of a bow in every fashion and two fingers rise to touch the dip of his collarbone.]

The name's Greed - [He says, finally. A long-overdue introduction and the Sin rolls his tongue to the smooth side of his teeth. Lets his eyebrows knit together, making waves of his forehead.] - why don't we start being good friends, hmn?
indentcision: (fiat justitia)
[personal profile] indentcision
[ The lighting isn't good, but it's clear enough that Harvey Dent is recognizable in the frame. Who else could that be, really? He looks surly, but on his good side his mouth almost seems to be smirking. ]

Do you want to know one of the reasons I'm glad I quit being a lawyer?

Human nature. Has its good sides and its bad sides, but they aren't even. Because good and bad people alike always pretend like they're innocent. People seize upon weakness to drag out skeletons that have been hidden under the porch, but sometimes they were already buried.

[ He sneers. ]

I hope whoever tried to call the law on me without evidence remembers that every story has two sides. My record's clean and so are my hands.

[video]

Feb. 11th, 2014 12:33 pm
beastofasister: (not trying to throw anyone under the bus)
[personal profile] beastofasister
[When the video begins, Manaka is seated, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her appearance is pristine and tidy, without even a drop of blood on the cloth covering her chest, because why would there be? Her smile seems vaguely tense, though, and where they rest in her lap, her fingers fidget here and there. All in all, she looks...like a young girl who has been thrust into an unfamiliar situation, alone, and is nervous about it.]

Um... Pardon me! My name is Manaka Sajou. I was told I can talk to other people like this, and I have some questions for...the populace at large.

[She hesitates briefly, seeming unsure, then starts to speak again.]

We're supposed to be heroes, right? They even branded us to say so. [She lifts one arm, her fingers curled into a loose fist, at the elbow. It's bright enough that the tattoo can't actually be seen, of course, but she taps the place where the words had glowed with the tip of her index finger.] But I've always thought a hero was a special person who had done special things! I can't really claim to have done anything like that, so I don't know if they should be calling me that at all.

I guess what I want to know is, are there others here who feel the same way I do? Or... How many people think they are heroes? [Abruptly, she giggles, sounding a bit sheepish.] And if you do think you've earned the title, would you tell me your secret? If they're going to call me that, I want to deserve it, too!

And... Oh, one other thing! [Again, she lifts her hands, fingertip indicating the inside of her pale wrist.] I was wondering about these, too. They don't really seem like regular tattoos, do they? So I was wondering if anyone has a good idea of how they work. [She follows that question up with another light, uncertain laugh.] I guess I was just curious about what would happen if our skin was damaged there, if anything!

[She really, really does not like having her body marked like this, after all—not that her expression gives as much away.]

Mm! That's all, though, I think. Thank you for your time, and have a good afternoon!

[Alternately, if anyone would rather interact with Manaka in person, she can be found exploring Heropa during the afternoon. Notable activities include: standing uncertainly outside buildings and wandering in circles, looking lost; scoping out the church she has been assigned to work at; and staring sullenly at Valentine's displays in stores.]

video

Feb. 8th, 2014 09:36 pm
heartlessglitch: (pic#4804767)
[personal profile] heartlessglitch
I require an explanation.

[ Danger holds up a little handwritten note, on which a series of ones and zeroes is written out neatly in elegant purple script. The note reads: 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01101101 01101001 01101110 01100101 00101110, which may or may not mean anything to anyone besides herself. ]

I have been told that this is what humans call a "valentine."
I assume this is in reference to the commercial holiday, which I find to be both wasteful and beside the point.


[ She finally lowers the note. Even in her metal body, her face is clearly unamused-- possibly borderline suspicious. ]

Perhaps it is simply that my understanding of human courting methods is lacking.
But I fail to see how this is "romantic."
Particularly when the sender remains anonymous.
And I am uncertain how to respond.
gandere: (Default)
[personal profile] gandere
February 1st, 2014. [ It's late in the afternoon and despite the six cups of tea Rin's had to wake up, the weariness in her voice is loud and clear. ] It had been on my mind once I realized the year and as the deadline grew closer, I prepared in the short amount of time I had.

Though I suppose it wasn't enough. [ She's being intentionally vague as to what this deadline was or her goal, though that's hardly unusual for her. Frustrating network posts are her specialty. ] This world's spiritual realm isn't so easily accessible, so it's natural that I was unable to locate what was missing. Maybe it was the lack of a catalyst--I thought that was my problem before, but it turns out that time I had the perfect one. The leash certainly failed to do it's part as a substitute...

Regardless of all that, if you see any spare spirits or demons around that appear otherworldly, it's my responsibility to dispose of them. After all, I'm the one who stirred them awake so I should be the one to put them back to sleep.

--don't suppose anyone has a list of the imPorts that failed to make it? [ Clearly added on as an after thought as her voice picks up a bit though it's likely a distraction tactic. ] Well? Is there such a list?

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