Entries tagged with † hemali

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--1

[Social networking had never really been Frank's forte, even before he was declared dead to the public. When he found the communicator in his welcome package, and the explanation of the imPort network, he couldn't help but grimace. The greeter interpreted it a smile, and let him go on his way.

Now, he sits in a corner cafe, watching city life unfold around him, with the phone in his hand. A few of the posts he's found so far have actually caught his attention-- apparently some of these supervillain assholes really don't mind showing their faces. Not really a bad thing-- easier to find.

What would be harder to find, however, would be people he can trust. Especially if people here know who he is. May as well test the waters.]

So are there any good coffee shops around here? Because this Starbucks stand in tastes like shit

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Video

[The communicator is either being carried by someone else, or simply floating after the man. Well dressed in his 1920s best, he is currently perusing the ‘occult’ section of a local public library. There’s a moment of silence as he traces the spine of one book, then simply begins speaking.]

How many tomes are able to be written on a subject this world clearly knows nothing about?

[He idly picks one book off the shelf- Idiot’s Guide To Protection Spells- and smirks as he flips through.]

I was something of a magical scholar- amateur, really- in my younger days. Making the utter absence of new forms to learn about here an understandable disappointment.

[The book is snapped shut, and he finally looks up to smile into the camera.]

If there are any actual witches or wizards listening, I would appreciate a moment of your time. Or, barring that, anyone that has seen magic in their lives. I’ll settle for whatever information this world can manage to scrape together.

---------------

[OOC: Also feel free to action it up in any library your character may be in. Or if you live in 009 MAURTIA FALLS come action at him for earlier/later in the day!]

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[anonymous voice]

I’m looking to rob a bank or two.

[ The man in black’s voice is low, rough with age and smoke through whatever farcical discretion ‘anonymity’ provides. ]

Could use a lookout, maybe a driver. 80/20 split. Negotiable, depending on what you have to offer, [ he elaborates, deadly serious and with enough of a drawl to ring distinct to any ears with a mind to pick him out of a lineup, later. ]

Interested parties inquire within.

[ OOC: All replies will be anonymous unless otherwise indicated. ]

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💣 005 | text

DRIVING INSTRUCTOR WANTED

must be proficient with the standard ground cars of this world
hover car proficiency preferred but not necessary
familiarity with early 20th century models preferred
instructor age 25+ preferred

Student comes from the early 1920s and drives a Crossley. Payment will be done per lesson. Details to be negotiated.

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💣 004 | text | backdated to the 10th

[Who knows who this is meant for. Whoever it is, they're not getting it; it's showing up on the public network instead.]

I bring her sweetbread, she's got wine in the kitchen, things are going very nicely. Then a giant fuck-off snake slithers into the room, as long as I am tall and thick as my forearm.

I'm telling you, mate, I nearly left right then and there.

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💣 003 | audio

Yeah. This Christmas thing. It's just fucking over the top, innit? You do know we're barely into December? You need to calm down, all of you.

[Alfie's tone is chiding, but in a light and teasing way that isn't really meant to be taken as a serious condemnation - he's actually been in an okay mood these past couple of weeks. This is just one more car on the culture shock train. The Christmas celebrations and decorations that he's is used to seeing at home are much more subdued, and definitely don't start this early in the season.]

Is this an American custom, or a twenty-first century custom? If I were to pay a visit across the ocean, would the Europeans be kicking up this much of a fuss? Fucking hell.

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Text: Let the misfires begin

hey 🌹, which import do u think is the hottest?

[OOC: It's an IC Hot or Not meme run by terrible, terrible god teenagers! :D Comment to get texts about how attractive your character or their CR is. Texts may or may not actually be misfires.]

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002 {text}

[Try as she might, Sookie can't figure out how to do this anonymously, so at the very least she won't show her face. It's too damn embarrassing.]

does anyone have good tips on faking powers? i need to know in the next few days. thanks!

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01 | video

So. This has been a long couple of days. [The look on his face screams 'I am just so done' so much that he doesn't even have to say it explicitly] Any recommendations for a good bar around Nonah? I got a lot of sorrows to drown and not enough booze to keep me going.

[See, now, he doesn't need deets on what's going down, he gets the gist from the other posts he's checked in on and what his little handy welcome pack told him, he pretty much has that down. As insane that it is. What he doesn't have is a good reliable watering hole and that just isn't right. No man should go days, hours or minutes without one.]

If I spend any more time sober, I might actually start reassessing my life and my choices and I don't have time for that kind of shit. So just help a guy out here. I don't mind if I got to pay a little extra for a good drink but I'm not exactly flushed with cash here so let's not go nuts and send me to like the ritziest place in town. Okay? Reasonable. Prices.

[Wait, he should really clarify here because when it comes to finding a bar, you can never be too specific in your wants.]

Just don't direct me to some dive where they water down the drinks or I will come down on you like the hand of God and smite your ass because seriously, don't waste my time or my money. That shit ain't cute and I will come at you. Sensible suggestions only.

[There's a long pause before he adds:]

While we're on the subject of things I need, I got one more request. I need someone who's good with this thing right here. [He means the device, he even gives it a little shake to just display what he means.] I got a few questions.

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first ( audio )

[ Consider him curious. Maybe he shouldn't be and maybe he shouldn't even bother. But, sometimes at night—and after a martini or several, shh—certain questions and thoughts rise to the forefront of his mind no matter how much he may wish for them not to.

And, well, since he has some form of an audience here, Magnus figures: why not??

It's just audio for now, his tone is fairly even with just a small touch of amusement. Because if he can't poke fun at certain things, what's the point. Right? Right. ]

There's always quite a lot of discussion over what to do with time. Complaints about wishing to have more or wishing it would pass faster. So, I'm curious. What would you do if you had an infinite amount of time?

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ᴀᴜᴅɪᴏ;;

This is Hood.

[ The sounds are unmistakable; the clinking of glasses, soft rock music, muted chatter. Hood's on a bar, be it for the booze or for the memories, he ain't telling. It's a little bit of both, really. At least in there he can pretend the crazy world he's been dumped into exists at all. As long as he doesn't walk out again there's nothing to worry, right? ]

Someone fucked up. [ There's a hint of irritation in his voice. ] They wanted a hero, they got me. I'm honored, really, but I sort of quit that life. [ Being a cop and being a hero aren't exactly the same, but that's as close as he's ever going to get. ]

I get it, though. No going back, at least not willingly. Fine. [ A pause; that whiskey isn't going to drink itself. ]

Just... you go your way, I go mine. Got it.

Good.

[ As if he would wait for an actual reply, pffft. ]

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𝜤 🔥 video

[ The feed turns on shakily and abruptly, showing at first a view of mostly sky, but then it catches more blurry glimpses of scenery -- what might be recognizable as downtown Nonah, if someone were to squint or was just very familiar with the area by now -- as it moves again, as if being wrestled from someone. Voices can be heard above the fainter sounds of traffic, although there's the steady pulse of a nearby car stereo playing loudly and, occasionally, an engine revving.

Then the communicator steadies, being held at its owner's side; the camera now gives an un-aimed view the street, though at a somewhat diagonal, catching about half of the car in question in the shot. A guy's voice, about a foot away, says: "--the sickest shit I ever seen, man! Orale, show the guy, Angie!" And then the communicator moves again, the man holding it taking a step back as Angie breathes fire about five feet into the air. Only the fire and not Angie herself is visible on the screen, although within moments the speaker is stepping close again.

"You see that? It's legit, right? Just one selfie, man! Just one, come on!" ]

Then what, you'll finally beat it? [ Diablo's not speaking into the communicator, obviously, so his voice is muted, though still audible. ] I got nothing to say about no heroes, kid. Whatever you want? It ain't got nothing to do with me.

[ "Yeah, yeah, whatever! Damn, why you got to be such a bummer, dude?" The communicator raises again, rotating around to show two people: #1, a heavily tattooed man in a letterman-style jacket, "Diablo" embroidered on it like a nametag, looking impatiently at #2, who appears to be a teenager with slicked back hair ("AA" shaved into the sides), a lightning bolt tattoo on his neck, and large mirrored sunglasses. ]

Okay, how--

[ But, smiling delightedly, the boy waves into the camera, declaring: "Heeeey, imPorts! Que onda, stay crazy, guys -- we still believe in you! We got your backs now, so take it easy! Ride or die, man!" before he laughs and runs out of frame to join his off-screen friends; the car motor revs again. Diablo, still holding the communicator, does nothing for a moment except flick his eyes irritably and skeptically in that direction, then turns the camera around to capture the kids driving away. The car's plate reads "DOUBLE A". ]

Man, the hell was that. [ And now the camera once again rotates, his skeptical gaze gracing the screen. ] If that's what you all got around here, then no wonder they be importing in heroes like furniture.

[ Well... "heroes," as the still-dubious expression on his face may go on to suggest. He shrugs, then shakes his head. ]

But hey, y'know-- it's whatever. Anyone know where's a good shoe place around here?

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001 | voice

[ the network post begins with a disgruntled exhale. great way to start, jones. nice first impression. clearly, this mysterious new arrival is glad to be here. ]

I'll make this quick and painless. The name's Jessica Jones, and I'm looking for answers.

They brand us like cattle. Expect us to play house. Assign crapass jobs.

And of all the places to wage the Cold War 2.0, they pick fucking Florida. [ she scoffs, as if that's somehow the worst offense of all. ] How do we leave this shithole?

[ there's a pointed beat of silence, as she presses her lips together in contemplation. almost as an afterthought, she adds: ]

And where can I get a drink around here? The cheaper, the better.

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2 ☄ Video

[The video opens on a guy with a mass of long hair that's being tied behind with both hands. The feed captures his medical coat, and the dim blue hue of monitors to his back. Their light reflects off the metal shelf by his right, whilst his desk sits in darkness, save for a lamp pointed down at the papers on its surface.

Machines hum in the background; together with the ticking of a clock and nearby footfall. He takes a hasty glance and, unsure of how to begin things, shuts his eyes. Does he introduce himself? Does he jump straight to his question? His fingers pull the tie taut then tap his sides. Last month's events were a strange twist of fate - a collapse of logic - that did not allow them peace. Alas! They had raised a question he could not solve alone.

It takes a moment of thought before he talks. His voice is calm but his speech? Noticably slow.]

On examining the situation with the rise of native superheroes, as you call them, I find myself puzzled. We beheld those who were ordinary become capable of the extraordinary. I request you answer one question that's on my mind:

What is the place of imPorts in this world now?

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[text; wee hours of the morning]

Do you believe in God? Gods? Do they exist where you're from? What about angels or demons or anything like that?

Where I'm from the existence of gods is hard to deny. People are pretty devote and religious. Church is an intrinsic part of our culture. It takes someone pretty hardheaded or self-centered to deny the existence of higher powers, but here there's not much emphasis on religion. Guess I'm just kinda curious now. Is it more like my home in your worlds, or more like this one?

[Joaquin may be slightly drunk, or perhaps he's just tired.]

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VIDEO POST - BACKDATED TO SUNDAY 9/25

[ At some point, mid-evening on Sunday, during the height of the battle, the network for most users flickered to life -- the system-wide announcement was simply Iron Man -- although at some point, his helmet had peeled back, a few stray strands of the Symbiote-infused suit wavered and flickered back and forth, like something alive, chrome moving as if it were a real thing.

And Stark stood there, the camera obviously wasn’t a comm -- but one of those handy cameras that one of the De Chima ambassadors had set up, and right next to him is Spider-Man, hunched over on the ground, both suit and man looking distinctly the worse for wear. ]

You know what we need, imports?

We need to stop hiding. We need to stop pretending that we’re something other than what we are -- we’re humans, each and every one of us. We pretend like we’re better than the people down there, just discovering their potential. Like we’re enlightened. Like we don’t have our own problems.

[ He wraps a hand around Spider-Man’s bicep and hauls him to his feet, a slight, sardonic grin on his face. Spider-Man, for his part, doesn’t look like he’d be able to stay there without being held up. He's not even looking at the camera. ]

I’ve always been one for the public knowledge of who we are. We should be held accountable for our actions -- yes, yes, even me. I know this isn’t popular right now, I know it isn’t.

[ Spider-Man makes a dismissive noise, barely audible over the camera microphone. ]

There’s no reason to be rude.

See, the thing is... you accuse… me... of talking outta my--

[ He plants his heels and pivots in Iron Man’s grip, shooting out web-lines from both wrists towards a target off camera. Spider-Man heaves, there's an earsplitting squeal, a briefly seen blur of dark, and an almighty CRUNCH before the camera goes dark.

It stays dark for another 45 seconds.

When the broadcast resumes, it shows the same scene from a different angle. More than that has changed: the wreckage of a car burns merrily in the background, an Iron Man-shaped imprint molded into the chassis. The man himself looks no worse for wear. Spider-Man, even more battered, looks barely conscious, only able to scrabble feebly at the gauntleted hand that holds him by the throat, a good foot off the ground. ]

I was going to say -- before I was rudely interrupted, that I forgive all of you, because you can’t help it, not really. My friend here, however, he can help it. And he chose to ignore that.

What I don’t forgive is trying to undo all the work we did together.

[ He reaches under Spider-Man's chin -- batting aside the other man’s last-ditch attempt to defend himself -- grabs the mask, and pulls. The face underneath is bruised, bloody, and not quite present, but recognizable to anyone who saw the network post on Wednesday. ]

Peter here’s a great example. We go through all this trouble, a public unmasking back home, media, everything, and what does he do?

Somehow, he undoes all of it. It took coming back here for me to remember what he’d even done. You think I’ve got the problem? Imports, we all have a problem, and it’s as deep as our very culture.

7th dawn → video

[Riku's face, when he appears on the network today, is a little exasperated, and a little apologetic. Behind him, something tiny and black moves, and he picks his hair up and away from it, pulling it over his shoulder for lack of anything else to do with it. A sharp-eyed observer will note that the black thing is a wing. It's small, but it's clearly a pointy, leathery bat wing. Presumably, there's a matching one.]

So... I guess I was ported out.

[His very first port-out after a year and a half. What a strange experience. Riku pauses. He's pretty sure he... owes some people an apology.]

Uh -- sorry. From what I can tell it hasn't been very long, though...? A day or so tops, I think. I saw Kagami made a post, so I thought I should clear things up.

[He's surprised you all panicked, honestly...]

I guess I should thank you all for worrying, though.

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[Audio]

Gold, here, with just a quick announcement. To add to its current inventory, the broom shop will be offering a selection of seasonal baskets, cornucopia, and wreaths for fall decor. Starting in October, lessons in weaving will be offered on Thursdays, from 5:00-6:00pm, with refreshments to follow as part of admission -- that will include real, non-gelatin or mayonnaise based food.

Please stop by for sign-ups and further details, or inquire below.

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Video

[It started off innocently enough, Komasan went to get his usual morning cup of coffee only for the barista to decide he became a regular enough to try something...different. The coffee was slightly orange and smelled sweet, something Komasan wasn't used to compared to his normal cup of liquid bitterness. One sip, and his life changed. They said it was pumpkin...something. Komasan never had a pumpkin that tasted anything like this before, but the experience was magical.

And that was only the beginning.

It wasn't long before he noticed that the local bakery was also selling pumpkin-something foods, and then the next place...and some other places. It was all too overwhelming, but eventually he gets to where he is now:

Sitting in front of his desk, said desk covered in an array of different pumpkin spice-flavored goods. Like...an absurd amount.]

T-T-The pumpkin, zura... Monge...

[Komasan looks like he's stuck between being totally confused and wanting to cry tears of joy.]

The coffee...it tasted so good— Coffee can taste good, zura!! A-And the muffins... I have...I have candle now, zura...

[He holds up one of those large jar candles, the ones that tend to cost a pretty penny...]

They sprayed me with...something— I smell so good— S-Someone sniff me, zura! And then...they had it...they had pumpkin soft cream, zura!!

[But he of course ate that one before he got home.]

Is this how US pumpkins taste, zura?! W-Why are they so sweet, zura?!

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1 🐍 ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ ( action for housemates )

[ When the feed comes to life, Hemali is seated on a couch, her legs drawn up and shoulders and neck hunched over. On the coffee table is a small bottle of nail polish, which she goes about applying with precision over her toe nails.

She doesn't glance at the camera right away, letting the silence linger until she's finished painting the nail the way she wants. Then she finally looks up and smiles, but it isn't one offered up in apology for making anyone wait, not that she believes she has anything to apologize for. ]

Isn't this all interesting? I've never seen a device like this or heard of one that could shuffle people from across the universe.

[ Her eyes light up at the thought, masking any concerns she has about the fact there's something with far greater power than she might ever have. ]

Nor have I heard about machines that could grant people power. What I find most strange having looked over this network, is that so many people would give up these powers if it meant leaving this place? I had always thought people preferred being special and having that kind of security. Does your power not provide that?

[ A contemplative pause. ]

Maybe I am a little excited to travel for once, personally.

[ Not completely, but who needs to know behind a calm affect is a woman who feels threatened by the Porter? She goes back to painting her nails, interested in hearing what these other imPorts have to say in response. ]