Bruce Banner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hyperkinesia) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2016-06-07 03:42 am
hyperkinesia) wrote in entrancelogs2016-06-07 03:42 am
( open ) wouldn't it be good to be in your shoes?
Who: Bruce Banner and YOU!
Where: Gardens, kitchen, hallways, lab, rooftop, or literally anywhere
When: During the next few days
Rating: PG13 for nudity, don't expect anything else but will update if need be
Summary: Bruce falls into Wonderland. Literally. He falls from the sky. Then he spends the next few days trying to be invisible and failing miserably.
The Story:
ARRIVAL, GARDENS; (open to only one person—first come first serve)
Anyone looking outside today will see blue skies. Blue skies, a shining sun, a seeming state of peace that's almost unsettling— then a strange sight breaking that calm. A figure falls from the sky, at a steadily quicker speed, literally dropping and landing in the middle of the gardens with an audible thud, hard enough to leave a mark in the ground. To those not paying much attention, it could be anything, but to anyone with a good eye, it's fairly easy to tell that it's actually a man.
He doesn't move, either. It stands to reason that after a fall like that, he wouldn't have survived. Should anyone venture outside to see for themselves, though, they might be surprised to find out that the man is not only very much alive, but also unharmed and completely naked.
ANYWHERE ELSE;
Bruce has been in some pretty far off places, but this still takes the cake.
The whole pocket universe and alternate realities deal is actually easier to wrap his head around than the fact that this place exists. This place as in Wonderland. Not just modelled after the story, but actually real. He's starting to feel like he really is mad at this point, which is all funny in that sort of ironic way if it weren't for the fact that he's stuck. He's stuck and he feels trapped, and he doesn't particularly like that feeling.
The place looks open and big but it's really little more than a glorified cage. And Bruce wouldn't mind much being here if only he were by himself— but no, let's pull in the guy who could tear this whole place apart in minutes and shove him in here with a bunch of other people. Brilliant idea.
But anyway. He tries not to focus too much on that, and instead worries about the ways he can try to keep distance from everyone else. Sadly, he soon realizes he can't do much about that either.
The choice of room (or more accurately, floor) is very much intentional, because as much as he wants to avoid being too close to certain people, he also feels the conflicting need to make sure they're alright. One of the first rooms in the seventh floor leave him somewhere close enough to the stairs, but not too far down the hallway, too close to everyone else's rooms. Could be worse.
As for the rest, it's... well, things could always be worse. Most times he manages to go to the kitchen or even the library without getting too much attention, but he still makes it back to the room pretty quickly. He holes himself up there for hours on end, blankets thrown over mirrors once he knows what's on the other side, looking out the window and musing how he would be better off just getting lost in the forest indefinitely. Probably.
He knows where these thoughts lead him, though. Eventually he forces himself to do something, and that starts with exploring the rest of the mansion. He goes to each open area and takes a look inside, taking his time when it's something that interests him more, makes it all the way down to the basement where he ends up looking around the lab for a little while, and goes up to the rooftop and stands somewhat near the edge for a while, looking over the expanse of land within sight. (And no, he's not thinking about jumping, if anyone might be wondering.)
It's too much. Too much and too little, too small, too confining. Every invisible limit makes his skin crawl with the urge to run, but he knows he can't. It's a particular kind of helplessness not even he is used to, and right now he has no idea what to do, where to start. If he can even do anything at all to change things.
He used to think he could. Change, do better. But he doesn't even know, doesn't even believe that anymore.
Where: Gardens, kitchen, hallways, lab, rooftop, or literally anywhere
When: During the next few days
Rating: PG13 for nudity, don't expect anything else but will update if need be
Summary: Bruce falls into Wonderland. Literally. He falls from the sky. Then he spends the next few days trying to be invisible and failing miserably.
The Story:
ARRIVAL, GARDENS; (open to only one person—first come first serve)
Anyone looking outside today will see blue skies. Blue skies, a shining sun, a seeming state of peace that's almost unsettling— then a strange sight breaking that calm. A figure falls from the sky, at a steadily quicker speed, literally dropping and landing in the middle of the gardens with an audible thud, hard enough to leave a mark in the ground. To those not paying much attention, it could be anything, but to anyone with a good eye, it's fairly easy to tell that it's actually a man.
He doesn't move, either. It stands to reason that after a fall like that, he wouldn't have survived. Should anyone venture outside to see for themselves, though, they might be surprised to find out that the man is not only very much alive, but also unharmed and completely naked.
ANYWHERE ELSE;
Bruce has been in some pretty far off places, but this still takes the cake.
The whole pocket universe and alternate realities deal is actually easier to wrap his head around than the fact that this place exists. This place as in Wonderland. Not just modelled after the story, but actually real. He's starting to feel like he really is mad at this point, which is all funny in that sort of ironic way if it weren't for the fact that he's stuck. He's stuck and he feels trapped, and he doesn't particularly like that feeling.
The place looks open and big but it's really little more than a glorified cage. And Bruce wouldn't mind much being here if only he were by himself— but no, let's pull in the guy who could tear this whole place apart in minutes and shove him in here with a bunch of other people. Brilliant idea.
But anyway. He tries not to focus too much on that, and instead worries about the ways he can try to keep distance from everyone else. Sadly, he soon realizes he can't do much about that either.
The choice of room (or more accurately, floor) is very much intentional, because as much as he wants to avoid being too close to certain people, he also feels the conflicting need to make sure they're alright. One of the first rooms in the seventh floor leave him somewhere close enough to the stairs, but not too far down the hallway, too close to everyone else's rooms. Could be worse.
As for the rest, it's... well, things could always be worse. Most times he manages to go to the kitchen or even the library without getting too much attention, but he still makes it back to the room pretty quickly. He holes himself up there for hours on end, blankets thrown over mirrors once he knows what's on the other side, looking out the window and musing how he would be better off just getting lost in the forest indefinitely. Probably.
He knows where these thoughts lead him, though. Eventually he forces himself to do something, and that starts with exploring the rest of the mansion. He goes to each open area and takes a look inside, taking his time when it's something that interests him more, makes it all the way down to the basement where he ends up looking around the lab for a little while, and goes up to the rooftop and stands somewhat near the edge for a while, looking over the expanse of land within sight. (And no, he's not thinking about jumping, if anyone might be wondering.)
It's too much. Too much and too little, too small, too confining. Every invisible limit makes his skin crawl with the urge to run, but he knows he can't. It's a particular kind of helplessness not even he is used to, and right now he has no idea what to do, where to start. If he can even do anything at all to change things.
He used to think he could. Change, do better. But he doesn't even know, doesn't even believe that anymore.
no subject
Jane's pretty sure "sucks" is the technical term, here. But now she's not sure if she'd been trying to make him feel better at all so much as ... commiserate a little. She'd never given herself much time to examine why it made her grumpy when people would talk to her as if they were friends, but what Bruce is expressing is pretty on the mark. Jane had just chosen to snap at people.
"I think what I meant was that you have responsibility because of it." More hollow words, and hypocritical to boot. Jane hurries to add: "Me too, I mean. Any scientist here, really."
Go ahead, Dr. Foster. Just reach down, grab that foot and shove it into your mouth. It might actually be better for everyone...
no subject
These people don't really understand, anyway. They may know about the Hulk but they don't know what it's really like, don't know why it's so dangerous to even get near him. But that's always been a constant struggle with those closest to him.
"Do we?" An eyebrow raises, more curious and amused than anything. Well, at least they're not talking about how memorable a person he is, so. "And why's that?"
no subject
Her smirk disappears into a frown. Out loud, it sounds like a lot of excuses to justify an unfair expectation of a guy she barely knows. She'd had a single conversation with him before, and he'd been so curious, and willing to help. But Bruce is right: that wasn't this person sitting in front of her.
"I'm sorry. You're right, you're-- I don't know you, and it's unfair of me to try to pick up where we left off." She'd had no idea what it felt like-- she'd have to tell Darcy she was right later on (for all Darcy-defending that Jane does with Fitz, maybe she should practice that preach a bit more).
no subject
He's just stuck on the idea that he'll be able to do that on his own. Though it's really only his wish to be alone and to avoid other people that's bleeding into his belief that he doesn't need any help.
"Right. Probably not a good idea," though he wouldn't go so far as to call it unfair. He gets where she's coming from, why she'd want him to help her. "But I'd still like to know what you've managed to find out about this place so far."
no subject
Whether that's being left alone to gaze at the "stars" for awhile or discussing the finer points of 11th dimensional hyperspace over hot cocoa...
no subject
no subject
OK, time to exit awkwardly with a sort of wave/head bob thing. Like, outside of academia how do you shot manners with a future colleague?
"Text me if you need anything before coming down." She's half out the door, waving again-- kind of like Bruce is at a sleepover at his friend's house and they're twelve and Jane's making sure he doesn't need an extra pillow so he can be comfy while he maybe is having an existential crisis. One more had bob, and she's gone.
no subject
He gets what she means, anyway. He waves her goodbye every time she does, assuring her he'll text her before dropping by, eventually turning his attention back to the sky once he's left by himself again. It all seems a little too different now, after Jane's shone a new light on it all.