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September 16th, 2014


[info]forthem in [info]rooms

public, selina k., dick g., harley q.

[public]

It's nice to wake up and not have public executions on my morning news with my simple morning anchors who just want to talk about boxed wine and complicated recipes.

[locked to selina k.]

Hi, kitty.

[locked to dick g.]

Hey. Can I ask you something?

[locked to harley q.]

You out there causing trouble?

[info]spacecowboys in [info]rooms

Steve R

[Locked to Steve R]

Do you want to make my life easy, Stevie?

[info]iceisback in [info]rooms

public.

[After several unsuccessful attempts to go back to sleep, Bobby procrastinates with ye olde journal:]

I'm bored. Anyone want to play a game? It's called Noneya. Basically, you go back and forth asking questions, and you lose only when you won't answer one. Winner gets I don't know what.

Ready and go.

[info]thornedroza in [info]rooms

Journal; public

Okay, what is it with weird things showing up in this journal all of a sudden?

Hellooooo. Is this Tom Riddle?

[info]huntertothecore in [info]rooms

Public but no Loki

Cut for Image )

Someone is way too much of a morning person, and it's not me.

[info]wintercame in [info]rooms

jack c, steve r

[Text to Jack Corvus]

Hey Jackie. How's things?


[Text to Steve Rogers]

Cap, letting you know I swung by where Sam was, and I think he's gone. They said he wasn't cleared to go and still injured, but he's missing, and he doesn't seem like the type to do that.

[info]howlinglupin in [info]rooms

public

[Public, as Remus Lupin]

So say someone was curious about going to another door. Any suggestions?

[info]thislifechoseus in [info]rooms

public

[Public]

Dear Gothamites and DC door people, stop me if this sounds inappropriate, but considering victory of some kind was achieved, who would be interested in getting a drink?

Also I'm Donna Troy for people who haven't met me yet.

[info]labcoats in [info]rooms

public as Martha J.

Doctor, if you can bloody read this, this is close to my London but definitely not my London. So. Come back anytime to fix your mistake.

At least I won't be stuck as a shop girl in the 1960s. Or household help in the 1910s.

[...] So. There are lots of other worlds on this thing, yeah? [Resists commenting to the Tom Riddle reference.]. Well, I enjoy a good cuppa if anyone wants to swap stories.

[info]freakandgeek in [info]rooms

public

[public, voice-to-text as Kevin S.]
Oh MAN why didn't I ever think about converting the Crystal Palace to a creepy Hitchcockian hotel which connects the multiverse through a series of unguarded doors?

Oh right, because I'm trying to fix timelines, not tear them apart. Teeny diff.

But it's good to be back in the field, such as it is. The journal is way more compact than the Tallus, that's for sure. But can I get a shout out from my freaky X- and Avengers-types? I probs know some version of all of you, so heeeey.

[info]onerule in [info]rooms

quicklog: bats/blake batcave.

[There was no afterglow of victory, not for Bruce. Vacation loomed on the horizon but Selina was still recovering, regaining his strength, and in the meantime he found it best to keep himself occupied. The busier he was, the less time he had alone with his thoughts. The only exceptions made were his trips to the hospital, where he was left with nothing but everything he was trying to avoid, but here, in the Cave, there were so many distractions. He was wired in to nearly every inch of the city, surveillance both visual and audio, databases, pages upon pages of information, police reports and schematics abound.

At the moment, he was working on upgrading the Batsuit. He had a number of prototypes and old suits, and maybe he didn't need to make changes, but it was something to do.

It was quiet, for the most part; the monitors hummed in the background, and various news reports marched on more as white noise than anything else. Bruce wasn't expecting visitors, but if he should have one, he'd know.]

[info]ex_oiseau148 in [info]rooms

Narrative

Who: Wren
What: Narrative: Finding work
Where: Around NY
When: Nowish
Warnings/Rating: Nope

She was supposed to be with Evie, in that place with wizards. )

[info]thenocturne in [info]rooms

Xavier Mansion: Talia/Morph/Open

Who: Talia Wagner, Morph, and OPEN to any inhabitants
Where: Xavier Mansion
What: Checking out the homestead to see if it's different
When: Nowish!

[It was impossible not to go home first. She probably shouldn't have, since they had no idea if it was there or if they'd be facing the evil X-Men. But Talia was just getting used to having her feet planted in a world where the X-Men knew who she was. She wanted some brief moment of normalcy, and she was going to yoink Morph with her in order to get it. She wasn't that surprised to hear he was from a different time; they were so used to it at this point, it would be stranger if they were from the exact same second. That was so not going to happen. TJ knew how to get to the mansion by any number of ways, and how to keep her head down and out of the way of normal people.

When she finally made it to the mansion she decided to stop by the gate and wait for Morph. Now safely outside of the main eyes of humans, she pulled her hoodie back. To any stranger, she was something to be feared, with her blue fur, gold eyes, and demonic appearance. But TJ figured even evil versions of the mutants she knew and loved wouldn't care too much about her face. At least this time she wasn't taken in her underpants or sleep wear again. That was awkward enough the first time. She could already tell there were maybe a few differences to the mansion from this distance, but she wasn't sure how many. They'd have to reconvene and talk it out before approaching.]

[info]upintheclouds in [info]rooms

Locked: Dick G/Eddie N

[Eddie N]

Seriously, no bullshit, how much attention am I paying to dead criminals? I didn't even read the conversation you started. Summarize.

[info]roomsanon in [info]rooms

dc comics: news update

[The corpses are discovered in a chamber in the sewers beneath an opulent art gallery. The visitors had been complaining about the smell for two days. Here they are, in an empty cistern, surrounded on all sides by damp green stone walls and the dripping of water, but the corpses are bone dry. Five of them, two women, three men. They are all on their knees, their hands clasped in prayer. They all have their open eyes tipped up to the blank stone face above.

Looking for salvation? Looking at nothing. )

Identifications come in on the frog murders. The woman, man, and youth were part of the same family, a unit notorious for their favorite bonding activity of enforcing for the Falcone mob, lethally when required. The over under on mob connections for the five corpses in the cistern is excellent.

The dove is still there, still in chalk, but it's been rudely sketched on each victim's clothes, on their chests. Amid the fierce strokes of the chalk dust are two words, almost illegible. 'THE WELL.']

[info]jukejoint in [info]rooms

PDT: Max/Dylan

Who: Max/Dylan
What: Drinks
Where: PDT
When: Nowish/In-progress
Warnings/Rating: Maybe language

Max hadn't bothered dressing up. She was closer to forty than to thirty these days, and maybe it said something about her insecurities that she didn't even consider trying. True, she'd never been one for heels and makeup, but the jeans and t-shirt she wore were loose, and her hair was messily half-tucked up. She was a woman who wasn't trying, plain and simple. Trying was nearly a decade earlier. It hadn't gone well; she had a track record for things not going well. Luckily, she'd given up on it all after Dhaka. She put on a good show, but the scars from half a decade in that hell went deep, and she'd exceeded the baggage requirement before she'd even been locked in.

She chose PDT because their domestic on tap was good. Maybe, too, she thought McKendrick would appreciate the stupid novelty of having to step into a phone booth to get into a bar. It was cute, whimsical in a way Max had never been, but that she figured anyone who had it in them to love Mario and Luigi would appreciate. It was also within walking distance of home, which was more important these days than it had been when she was younger. Getting drunk, which had been about fun once, was more about escape now, and escape didn't want to bother with calling a taxi.

She waited inside, a cool glass of domestic between her fingers as she leaned elbows against the bar and half-listened as the man beside her talked about next Sunday's game. She mentioned Adrian Peterson's suspension, which shut him up quick, and she wondered if men actually got worse as she aged, or if she was only imagining that shit.