Entries tagged with † kitty jones

Entry tags:

video;

[ There is a grown-ass man sulking in the cafe of a Nonah Barnes & Noble. Thankfully, some kind soul explained to Strange how to turn on the video function because he's still in his 1800s finest. Even in the background of the video, there's some poor student trying to study that just can't help but look at Mr. Period Drama here with a bit of confusion.

It's entirely possible that as soon as someone mentioned the word 'stipend' and the phrase 'no, I've never heard of Gilbert Norrell before' the first thought Strange had was go to the bookstore, buy out all the books before Norrell or anyone else could. Unfortunately, the selection sucks. Like, reeeeeeally sucks. ]

I know that at least in my time America is still a bit uncivilized, but this is ridiculous. [ Well that certainly is someone hella British. ] There's plenty of books about magic, but rarely any of magic. And what books there are show tricks more fit for street magicians! Look at this one, [ said as he holds a Magic Tricks for Dummies type of book up to the camera. ] 'Pulling a penny from someone's ear.' It's right behind a whole chapter on card tricks, of all things.

Has someone bought up all the books of magic already? [ who has two thumbs and doesn't know how modern printing works, hint it is this guy. ] Or are they simply hiding them from casual readers? I'd be happy to provide my qualifications if needed. My name is Jonathan Strange, magician to the Duke of Wellington as well as the king of England—surely that is good enough to merit someone either in the store or over this device to actually tell me where the proper books are!

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( CODEPENDENCY ) --> VIDEO

[There is a brief camera pan, angled generously to evoke the gold and black accents of the clinically pale blue room. The Greco-Roman aesthetic speaks strongly of Frederick Chilton’s office, and those who have already graced the room might recognize it immediately.]

We wanted to discuss this for no particular reason -- no specific catalyst in mind. Just that, well, it ought to be discussed.

[Clearly Chilton’s voice. Without further ado, the camera is pointed quite suddenly and squarely at Will Graham’s face. He definitely didn’t get anywhere close to a full night of sleep and looks past the camera long enough to show that he wasn’t ready for a close up, Mr. Demille. He takes a breath and blinks and in the split second he does his eyes seem ready to roll into the back of his head, fantastic.]

Dorian’s absence has already been. Noted. For those of you who don’t know, Dorian took his own life to be rid of those mirages. He’d come back from the dead before. Assumed he would this time. He hasn’t. And this is not the first time an imPort never made that particular return trip.

[He looks past the camera expectantly. E tu, Frede.]

Walter White.

Freddie Lounds.

Abel Gideon. [A deadened beat follows.] I think, I mean. Actually I do not know for sure, but we suspect. Probably.

It’s the most likely explanation. [Super casual about all this.] Yuri Petrov, too — though he returned several months later. There may be others no one is aware of.

Our point being, one should not take death so lightly, even while we stand in our elevated state as imPorts. [Another, more strained beat.] Anything else, Will?

[He takes a moment to think, lips out in a somewhat comical shape considering the...context.]
We’ve had something of a rash of murders reported, only natives as far as we know. We’d like to encourage everyone to be careful and, if you see something suspicious, don’t act unless you know what you’re doing. We don’t always come back. If things go badly, there is no promise of return. Just some...food for thought.

[He smiles, finally, for the first time since Chilton began filming, though it doesn’t look especially happy.]

Entry tags:

video

[ Kitty's voice is shaky. She's shooting this video from a dark-ish room, something a little spooky - a room with a lot of display drawers in the background. ]

Sorry. I, erm - I suppose this seems almost - copycattish, 'cause Rincewind - just the other day -

[ She takes a shaky breath, and gives a little shake of her head, like she's denying the complete and utter stupidity of her previous statement. ]

I'm in my garage - the apartment Satya used to live in - and I found...Anyway. If you find bad things - like, really bad things - like, bits of...people...You're not supposed to touch them, yeah? Or anything.

[ And then she runs a hand through her hair and bites out: ]

Someone help me with this, please.

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video; [3/15, TW for murder most foul]

[Happy Ides, everyone. To celebrate, here's a pale, shaken wizzard on your screen, standing in some nondescript Maurtia Falls allet. If the pallor of his skin makes him look a person who may be ill, that's probably because he is. Or at least was. Barely thirty seconds ago, violently, behind a trash can.]

Once, just once I'd like to go a month without - without the streets flooding with ghosts, or being in ridiculous brawls in bars with bears, or being kidnapped, or - or -

[Rincewind breaks off with a pained, miserable expression, glancing back over his shoulder. As he does so, the video shifts enough to show a dumpster with its lid open, a bag of trash abandoned outside it. The angle makes it impossible to see inside.]

...There's a body in there. Two, er, halves of one. Someone's, um...

[Rincewind swallows thickly, fighting another wave of nausea.]

I don't think she's an imPort. ...Was. Gods.

Look - someone come deal with this, will you? That's what you heroes are meant to do, right? So one of you needs to bloody well get out here. I'm not - I can't - this isn't my responsibility.

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video.

[ Tyrion tends to prefer voice simply because video at first deeply unnerved him, but even though it has taken him weeks he has finally grown used enough to the devices to be confident in their use, and he has decided therefore to send his own message out. His face, as it appears, is twisted and scarred beneath the explosion of dark beard, at odds with his tousled blond curls — but, truly the best thing about this sort of communication, his height is not apparent. ]

Good evening.

[ A pause as he considers if that was foolish: it may be evening for him now, but might not be when others watch the video ... nevertheless he perseveres. ]

I've been learning a little about the civics of this world. I must say, it makes a great deal more sense to me than simply allowing a man to rule by the mandate of his birth. And yet I cannot help but wonder if this "democratic process" works quite as well in reality as it does on paper. What is to stop one man simply rising through duplicity? By all accounts the position of an imPort Ambassadorship is effectively for life.

[ Not naming any names! Just something to consider!! It's not like there are any elections on right now, he's simply a concerned citizen.

Anyway, he seems to realize he monologued a bit and smiles ruefully. ]

It's very easy to get carried away speaking to these things, isn't it? I will keep my second inquiry brief: were I interested in aquiring the services of someone to safeguard my person or property, where would I best start? I would prefer someone familiar with this world's "technology" as well as skilled in combat.

[ Because he is bad. As demonstrated by the fact that he forgets to turn the video off and there is another five minutes of him quietly reading a book and sipping wine before the message ends. ]

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007. ( video. )

( HI guys. This is Sarissa. Last time she was on the network she was wearing a ridiculous shirt and was even more ridiculously drunk, a shenanigan that involved yelling at people about art and being excessively poetic. It was a mess.

Now here is Sarissa, looking a lot more serious. Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun, is wearing a dark charcoal button down, and is entirely sober. )

Uh— hi. I’m Sarissa Theron. A few of you have already had the misfortune of speaking to me, in person or on here. Usually I’m pretty obnoxious, so—

( She frowns, and pauses. No, deflecting won’t work for this, and she rolls her shoulders to get herself to focus. )

Some of you might have heard by now that I was murdered. Twice, actually. The first time was just after Thanksgiving and the second time was at the tail end of that blackout we was all in a fluster about. I lied the first time around and said I didn’t know who killed me, because…

( Her gaze drops, for a moment. ) I was scared, mostly. Thought I was protecting the people I cared about, and I thought silence was the only way to do it, because the person I was protecting them from was - is - invulnerable. That kind of backfired, but. So— here I am.

His name is Sylar, but some of you might’ve met him as Gabriel Gray. He has a kind of… hunger, or an obsession, I guess, with collecting powers. That was why he killed me the first time around, so he could take a power of mine.

( She exhales, slowly, working herself up to the next bit. ) To be perfectly clear, he’s a fuckhead and he tried to hurt people I care about to make a game outta our lives. But I think— I think despite my visceral feelings about it, what’s more important than trying to take him apart is trying to get him help. Justice, obviously, he needs to take responsibility for what he did, but just— if you find him, and if you’re able to contain someone like him, don’t hurt him or... be shit, basically. Something happened, maybe, to make him how he is and vengeance and all that aren’t gonna help him get better, they’ll just give him more rage to run on. I figure enough of us around these parts are from heaps messed up worlds or have seen messed up shit to know what that’s like, in some way.

Anyway. I’m sorry I didn’t come out and say it sooner. If you have questions or that, I’ll answer them as good as I can.

( ooc: Sylar stuff is public knowledge as of the Majority report if you want your character to be a bit familiar with it. )

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001. video.

[ The girl that appears now on the network is not incredibly competent with this technology, but nor would she publicly broadcast without having had a bit of practice beforehand. That flicker of uncertainty in her expression is stifled, and her smile is subtle but warm. ]

Hello, [ is said, with a twinge of a raised eyebrow. ] My name is Daenerys Stormborn, of the House Targaryen, and this next moon will mark the six months I've been here. I am not the first of my land to arrive -- many of you are already familiar with Ambassador Baelish.

And over the past few months, more and more of my people have come through the Porter. We represent different lands, different values, different politics, but in this world, we find ourselves with more similarities than we'd ever imagine sharing. If any of you of Westeros or Essos are viewing this [ because gods know it took her a while ] and we've yet to meet, I'd very much like to rectify that.

There are more than just us, too, who have likewise entered this land and felt like strangers to its technology, its ways. If you feel more at home in a world of horses and candles and swords, I'd like to know you too, whether you're new or have been here for sometime. We face a conflict between wishing to recall always the worlds from which we hail, and represent them proudly, while achieving a level of integration that ensures we have a voice. Perhaps there is a solution to find, between all of us.

Likewise, [ she adds, ] if you are entirely at home here but perhaps would be willing to act as a guide, then please do step forward with your name and your skills. You would want also to be a patient sort of person, but I assure you, we learn quickly.

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O4 👶 ANON TEXT;

(cw murder, survivor's guilt, brainwashing?, jokes at the expense of trauma survivors, etc.)

good morning assholes

[(it's 3:00pm est.)]

u all remember the blackout shit mid jan 2017. count dooku rounded up 1direction to look @ the prison breakout using our magical superpowers. this is what we found.

( spam )

Entry tags:

open | video

[ The communicator is already properly situated when the video starts, a young woman framed from biceps up, silvery aviators pushed back onto the top of her head holding dark bangs out of her face. She lifts a hand and gives a wave, at ease with this technology, at least. ]

Hi, [ she begins, with a smile that's on the friendly side of polite. ] My name is Kate, I just got here in the last...batch or whatever, and I'm looking for a couple of my friends. If any of you guys are watching this, call me! For the rest of you, I put together a quick list that's attached to this message. I know it's probably annoying all of us showing up looking for people but if you have a minute to take a look, I'd really appreciate it.

They're-- [ here her smile briefly warms, and widens lopsidedly, ] --sort of distinctive? Or they usually are, anyway. I guess with the whole superhero craze here, maybe you have more than one guy running around in space pajamas, who knows!

Anyway, if you can point me to anybody on the list, I'll owe you one. Which! [ she raises a finger here and grins, excitement creeping into her voice ] I can repay in pancakes, because apparently I can do this now: [ this being the sudden appearance of a heaping stack of steaming, golden-brown pancakes, which materialize on the table in front of her, the plate they came on rattling as it lands. She frames them with her hands, Vanna White-style. ] Cool, right? I can do blueberry, too.

att: list.doc

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ᴏɴᴇ ✝ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ

[With a bowed head, the man on screen acknowledges his audience. His features are sharp, his smile disciplined, but however cleverly disguised his inner machinations, even on camera there is an unmistakable air of ostentation about him. How fortunate for those listening that he appears to have politely reined that in a little.]

I am Seymour Guado, a Maester of Yevon from Spira...a world that I suspect none among you are familiar with.

[Seemingly apologetic, Seymour shakes his head and offers a clear view of blue veins like a mask over his eyes and his very, very strange hair, a sort of blue-violet and horned. Behind him is the interior of his new home in Maurtia Falls, a temporarily spartan-looking abode that is also home to Luffy and Zoro.]

I cannot say that I'm pleased to find myself here as I've a great many responsibilities that require my attention where I come from, but I will nevertheless endeavor to help those in need, just as I would do back home. In fact, nothing would please me more—except, perhaps, the opportunity to become better acquainted with those of you sharing my circumstance.

[Here, he gestures towards the camera with one hand, large and manicured, with long nails barely visible for the billowy sleeve of the robe he's wearing.]

Might you introduce yourselves? And, should you have advice you wish to share, or questions that weigh heavily upon your minds, as I'm certain you must...please do not hesitate to ask. I will gladly answer to the very best of my ability.

[A final polite goodbye before, taking a step back and bowing his head above hands cupped together before him, Seymour cuts the feed.]

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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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009 | Video, xposted to all her assorted Social Medias

[ She doesn't show her face in this video. But the camera is facing a pomegranate resting in a well-manicured hand, so it's no big mystery who's morbid performance art the network is about to be subjected to. ]

So it's new years soon. 2017. Wow.

[ Does the fruit seem a little soft? Over ripe? ]

Made your resolution yet? Now pretend this will be your last New Years Eve. How's that resolution stand up?

[ It's obvious by now, the fruit is sagging in her hands, and a black spot of something is growing on one side. ]

No, more than that. Pretend it's someone you love's last New Years Eve. This'll be the last time they count down with the ball. Then they'll have their last bank holidays, their last birthday, last Halloween. Maybe they get another Christmas, but probably not. Maybe you should call this one the last, just to be safe.

[ As she speaks, the distending fruit splits up one rotting side, collapsing under its own weight. Remarkably blood-like juice runs down her hand and wrist. ]

How's your resolution now? Does it mean a fucking thing?

[ The flesh of the fruit itself is sloughing off now in disgusting clumps that splatter noisily on the unseen floor. ]

Death's coming. Not just for you, but for everyone you love.

[ When the whole thing is gone, she rubs her fingers together, feeling the viscous red slime the rotten fruit left behind. ]

Happy New Years. Memento-fucking-mori.

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text, memeing it up

Hullo, all. So...The days are short, the air is cold (except in Heropa), and all of us are struggling with lingering embarrassment from all those mis-sent texts. So, to give us all a bit of cheer, and in recognition of all the holidays we've constructed to help us deal with winter, I thought we all could give one another a bit of love. So! How does this work, then? Well - 1. Go ahead and post your name in this post. 2. People respond to you with things they like about you, lovely moments you've shared, et cetera. 3. You go out and respond to others with things you like about them. 4. NO BEING AWFUL. Do NOT give backhanded compliments or secretly troll people or things like that. The point of this is to be good to one another. Go be good to one another!

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[ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ]

I have a question about nanites.

[Said casually, but with a certain amount of self-importance. Clara Oswald opens conversations as though they were great doors to be flung.]

They're what bring us back when we die, yeah? They repair what's malfunctioned, like... like a pit team. [She thinks that's what they're called, at least.] But what if nothing's there to fix? That's what I want to know. If there's no body left, there are no nanites left, so the Porter just... rematerializes you? Plops down a backup file? If there's too much damage to fix, what exactly happens?

[It's all asked in a very matter-of-fact, academic tone. Clara could maybe use a lecture on morbidity from her past self.]

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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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mirror network || encrypted, anonymous - backtimed to early morning

[The below posts to the mirror network around 3am on the morning of November 26th, the election of the Heropa ambassador.]

Greetings, fellow imPorts.

As you turn out to vote today for our ambassador of Heropa, our single sole voice of representation in this great nation, we urge you to ask yourselves: who is your neighbor?

Your vote is a empty gesture. A gesture designed to help keep us complacent, to make us feel that we have a part in a body, in a nation, that has nothing to do with us. These elections are coordinated by a government who does not care about you. These elections put into place the newest figurehead, in a series of figureheads, whose power is rendered meaningless by the very fact that we who live here have no rights. No control. We are brought here and we are taken out again.

So trust your neighbor, imPorts. They are the closest you have to a constant.

But we suggest that you trust your neighbor only if you know your neighbor.

Your candidates show one face. We show you now, LIVE, FROM HEROPA, some OTHER faces of 3 of the finest, to teach you, imPOrts, to be wary, and beware. Be wary of the rich who give from guilt, the men of means who claim to care. Beware the criminals who got off easy and now ask YOU to behave. Be wary of the cronies, the vote-buyers, the campaigners who seek not to enrich your lives but to profit, to increase their means and their research, to increase their bottom line off your backs. Beware the institutions, Big Med and Big Industry and Big Brother. Beware those who would see us as tools. Beware the socialists who would join the democratic machine. To enter into that game is to succumb to it.

To the candidates: we urge you to LISTEN TO YOURSELVES. Heed your own words and take your own advice. If you must participate in this dog and pony show that the government has constructed as a distracton, then participate by our rules, the rules of the imPorts. You should tear this fabric. You should not worry about playing the corrupt game. You should worry for your fellow imPOrts, and worry about us. We have the power.

And remember: it is in our hands to decide. Not just today, fellow imPorts, but every day. IT IS IN ALL OF OUR HANDS. You must pay attention. Don't make us pay attention for you.

[Following the text is a series of links and soundbytes, reposting the above for emphasis.]

heropadebate.wav
guiltygiving
socialistmenofmeans
gooddogbadlawyer
cronyismisaliveandwell
heneversaidno
candidateoftheinsitution
wearetheirtools
compromisedmorals

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003; Video

[ This is Baelish, coming to you from the Maurtia Falls Ambassador office. Not Baelish coming to you from his casino or Baelish coming to you from his strip club. That makes this professional, right? ]

Greetings, my fellow imPorts. For those of you who do not know me, I am Lord Petyr Baelish, Ambassador for Maurtia Falls. I wished to address you all to talk about a few things, but most importantly this Nonah election. It is of utmost importance that we vote and show support for our fellow candidates. The job of ambassador is an important one, and I believe all of these candidates have qualities that would work to benefit Nonah. It is in your hands to decide who best will fit your city. But I implore you to truly look into who has the policies and qualities you seek. I would be more than happy to illuminate some of those to any imPort who may not have been following the race too closely.

[ And that's all he says on the matter since his good pal Dorian Gray had always harped on him about talking too much in his network posts. ]

Second of all, for those of you who recall the attack in Philadelphia at the ambassadorial celebration -- did any of you happen to return with the remains of one of those monstrosities, whether it be for scientific study or perhaps as a souvenir? I have been curious about what information can be gleaned from them -- especially in relation to the ImProcreats, if anyone still happens to have their little creature from that Swear In for comparison.

[ A beat. ]

And lastly, I understand this day to be a day of gratitude -- a nationwide celebration for families and friends to get together and sit down for a meal. Unfortunately, on this holiday I find myself largely alone and I am certain there are others who are in a similar position. If anyone has need of company, I can provide a place and wine if you can provide a dish of food or two. It does not have to be traditional in terms of what is served, but the important thing is that we are not alone when we could be together.

That is all. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I thank you all for your time and wish you a wonderful holiday.

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(no subject)

what the hell is a rumblr

[ oh boy ]

[JOB]

Time for a test run.

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video;

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.]

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Video | They don't make posters of my kinda life

[It is hard to tell if the person who appears on the network this afternoon is a particularly handsome woman or a strikingly beautiful man. Or what age they are. Or any nice, easy assumption, actually. They lean towards the screen, having watched the network for a few days, picked up what they could. A planetary war, tensions between imPorts, tenuous situations all around. For most people, it would be the time for serious discussions, strategic planning and getting the strongest intel they can.

Bel Thorne puts their chin on their palm, regards the camera a moment before cutting a sharp, curious smile.]

So, what does one do on Earth for fun? I'm taking suggestions.