video;

Nov. 21st, 2016 06:55 pm
wizzardly: I think it's called being human or something. (Been completely at a loss my whole life)
[personal profile] wizzardly
Right, so it's been brought to my attention that those bloody awful reports have been floating certain rumors around about me, and I'd rather just end those before they even get going all right?

[because even Rincewind's starved sense of self-respect has to draw the line at people thinking he fancies dishware.]

So, to be clear: I'm pansexual.

[which is an admittedly backwards linguistic for declaring one's lack of attraction to tea cups and related sundry, but there's just no accounting for etymological taste.]

There? [he arches a pointed brow.] Shall I assume that just about does it? All questions answered? Jolly good.

[honestly, the people in this place really will believe anything, won't they? Lucky that Snart fellow pointed this out when he did - things really could have gotten out of hand.]
khaleesipls: (shit shit)
[personal profile] khaleesipls
I’m looking for someone.

[ “Someone.” ]

Twenty feet tall, breathes fire, great leathery wings. Nasty temper. Last seen heading North over Nonah.

[ The clatter of hooves pummeling concrete fills a terse break in speech. Jorah sounds like he’s under a certain amount of stress, short on breath, decorum chafing coarse under pressure.

Somewhere in the distance, sirens are wailing. ]


We need to draw him away from the city.


[ ooc: relevant log post and ooc planning post. ]

VIDEO

Sep. 23rd, 2016 08:26 pm
liverletdie: (sᴜᴘᴇʀɪᴏʀ | I can make new antibiotics)
[personal profile] liverletdie
Imports, let's talk about the future.

[ Well well. There he is. He looks a lot different from the man he's been pretending to be, but it's in small, subtle ways. Head held higher, drink in hand, sunglasses propped on his head, the suit's a little looser, disheveled. In the background, there's the sound of a pout, like someone's disappointed he's not gallivanting around, instead taking time on the network. Instead of a clear liquid, like last time -- it's amber, definitely some kind of whiskey. ]

What do you want out of a future? Prosperity? Peace for imports? The ability to go home? That last one isn't really under any of our control, by the way, no matter what anyone says. How about being treated equally? Wouldn't it be nice if we weren't the exception, but instead a part of the norm? When superpowers become normal, when they're something that can come within, suddenly, it's not about where they come from, what their world is like, or what weird things influenced them -- because we're all human, at the end of the day.

But that doesn't mean that humans can't be the best they can be. [ He sits in his seat, and puts his feet up on the desk, crossed at the ankles. He's obviously not recording from a comm, but an internal camera. ]

And I know, I know -- some people are going around, saying that I'm not "myself", but what they don't understand is that I'm doing exactly what I've always done. You know that? I've been a futurist for as long as I can remember -- even before coming here -- and I've worked to build a future that I can be proud of. You know, when people look back, they're not going to look at the people who never made a difference, those among us who are content to just let things slip by, and make no waves. No, they're going to look to the people who changed the world, and if they didn't make the best one, then legacies are stained.

I don't know about you, but I don't want my legacy to go down with a whimper. I'm going to make the future better, whether you like it or not, and oh -- you can hate me, you can hate what I've done all you want, but...

At the end of the day?

I'm being the best person I can be. And so will everyone else. Things are so much easier, so much better if we don't let ourselves be held back by those issues. When we're held back by control, trying to pretend to be just as stupid as everyone else out there, when we're hiding our powers, our genius, what makes us great? We've done nobody any good. I stopped worrying, and it's been...

[ A pause. He breathes. ]

It's like a whole new world opened up before me. I recommend it, you might even like it.
huntergames: (i the fuck)
[personal profile] huntergames
[ The feed opens to the living room of Casa Ludgate-Graham with the communicator set upon a coffee table and Sasha seated on the floor in front of it. Before her is a plate that's been cleared of her dinner and beside that a glass that looks to be emptied, too. There's a tall bottle of some kind of drink that can be seen just at the edge of the feed, that only appears in view for a quick moment as one of the raccoons picks it up and carries it off to put it back where it belongs. Another raccoon waddles over to one Will Graham, laying on the couch just behind Sasha, asleep, and it takes a hold of the empty glass on the floor before making off with it to put it in the sink.

They're such a helpful bunch, these fuzzy guys. ]


Hello! This is um, Sasha.

[ Sasha doesn't hold her gaze long; it's always intimidating to address the network at large rather than one or two people. However, she appears more contemplative than apprehensive. ]

Summer is already over. It feels like it went by very fast, didn't it? Um, because of that, I have a question to ask the network if it is alright.

[ It's been nagging at her for a long time, but up until this month she thought she would have figured it all out. ]

Since a lot of us have been here a while and it might be ah, longer... how do you plan for that? [ She glances into the camera again, this time her expression sheepish. ] Is there a way to do that?

[ And then from behind, a couple of raccoons return with a light blanket in their paws, heading toward the couch and tossing it over Will's form. ]
danceofcurse: (030)
[personal profile] danceofcurse
So, how many of you actually know how to fight?

[Van's lounging outside beneath the low-hanging limb of a willow, rays of sunlight peeking between the fine leaves and spindly branches to cast moving shadows over his face. In the changing light, his eyes look red and then brown, but they never lose their sharpness. This is a young man who doesn't appear to smile as often as most boys his age.]

I don't like fighting, myself. [An understatement, but his tone also implies he recognizes the necessity for it. So too does the sword next to him, the blue scabbard and gold-tipped hilt as pristine and polished as the bare blade that rests at its side.] But ever since I arrived it's become pretty obvious that, as imPorts, we don't have the luxury of not defending ourselves and the people we care about. To be honest...I'm used to that. It wasn't much different back home. Of course, we didn't have modern weapons...

But that's a bit beside the point.

[He sits up with a sigh, one gloved hand pushing unkempt black hair out of his eyes, though it falls again right back into place.]

I'm looking for sparring partners. People who know how to use a sword, specifically, but it doesn't matter what sort of weapon you wield as long as you're experienced and you know what you're doing. I want to be more prepared for what this place might throw at us. We all should be.

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