#viewable icly

[cyberneticlagomorph]

[A video of a large plate on a wooden table or counter.

The sounds of sobbing and sniffling can be heard as a slice of bread is placed on the the plate, then Egg is placed on the slice of bread. Egg is on her back and looks vaguely bewildered as a large slice of cheese is placed on her tummy, then several slices of bacon and finally another slice of bread to top it all off.

The bacon, Egg, and cheese sandwich is carefully smushed and then lifted off of the plate.]

Tfw your husband asks for a bacon egg and cheese

#ic #viewable icly

[mercswercs]

LEMMIGAN!

>It's a photo of an eight-foot long animal, of some sort. It's reminiscent of a dragon, save for a lack of horns on it's head. This creature, of course, is Lemmigan, Merc's pet weird-thing. He's coiled up in a short lump, though where his three pairs of limps are visible (strangely none of them appear to differentiate between forelegs and hind-legs), each of them has folded into loaf-position, like a cat. One hand's claw is out, lazily open in a flex of long black talons on a bird-like foot. His snout, long and tapered, is up, the boy alert; mostly just watching his mom and her stupid camera with mild curiosity in his flickering-white eyes, set in their sunset-colored sclera.

>Lemmigan's pathetic, fuzzy mane has grown in a lot, but it's not long enough to do much more than stick-out at strange angles, like Merc just towel-dried him or something; the copper-blonde color is much more striking now, especially by light of a campfire, not unlike Merc's own hair.

>Also growing into their own is Lemmigan's scales, no longer ugly brown-yellow, instead turning the color of sun-bleached sand, each rounded scale now trimmed with a dark, dull brown. The brown opal-like growths along his back, once little more than tiny numbs, are now jutting out from the growing stripe of mane that connects to the tuft at the end of his tail. Those energy-filled gemstone spikes now stand several inches, rising to their tallest where his all of his shoulders likely are.

#IC #Viewable ICly #MercsWercsLore

[sintwerks]

>It's a photo of a wide pair of hips, milky-white and covered in freckles. Wide, with a gentle, bottom-heavy curve that puts pears to shame, with wide thighs that always seem to touch. The freckles seem as much golden glitter as they do freckles, but they do little to cover the sheer number of random little scars nicking Hermes' creamy, soft midsection. Downy-soft hair, copper-blonde in color, run wild across her thighs, and thicken into a trimmed bush that tapers into a messy little treasure trail. At the bottom edge of Hermes' loose wiring is, well, a pair of nuts, softer than any skin on Hermes ought to be, but flush and swollen with desire and desperation. However, where Hermes length might finally be, all she has to show for it is a tiny metal device; shaped a bit like a low, wide thimble, Hermes' chastity cage appears to be one size up from a flat-nub cage.

>The fact that this shot of Hermes was taken while her entire back was arched high in the air, with a single vibrating wand just barely in frame, suggests that she doesn't seem to mind the thing too much.

#IC #Viewable ICly

[jackalopegirlteeth]

The video feeds crackles to life suddenly. A cyborg troll beaming into the mirror she had her phone pointed towards.

"Hey folks! Look at this!"

She sets down her phone and lifts her metallic arm up into focus of the camera. Holding it steady for all to see. Tapping a seemingly ordinary panel on the arm, there is an audible clicking noise. Moments pass before-

The main panels on her forearm raise and slide apart. Revealing that within the prosthetic limb Sylvii has managed to create a concealed compartment. Inside of which is a single chocolate bar. Or what one might assume to be a chocolate bar. The writing on the wrapper being in the angular Alternian script.

She quickly snatches her hidden treasure and rips a hole in the packaging with her teeth. Taking a bite of the newly opened chocolate.

"Pretty cool huh?"

With her little demonstration over. The feed goes dark once more. Leaving Sylvii to enjoy her snack in peace.

#ic (sylvii) #viewable icly

[saintworks]

This is definitely not the original Olympus station (The city it's become is called "New Tancred" btw!). One, it's small. The original one was the size of a small moon and had a literal city's worth of buildings on each panel. This one's... Well, it's a lot smaller.

I think that's a byproduct of the universe ah, correcting the record, to make all the insane tech I imported fit with the place we settled. Essentially, it now has twelve districts, with three of them being dedicated to systems maintenance; one panel keeps the life support going, another panel houses the gravity-generator and houses the dormant locomotion systems, and the last panel is the base for the tower, which means it's also the one where the reactor is.

>The photo is taken quickly, the background a blur of many lights amid a distant, concrete smear. Looking up, looming from the foreground into the foggy heights of the dodecahedron space, is Hermes' tower, the headquarters of both Saintworks AND Bandame. The tower terminates in a smaller dodecahedron, crystal-faceted and giving off its own, artificial sunlight (a temporary fix until Hermes can get natural light into her capitol). Below the artificial sun are a number of jutting platforms, each one ending at a simple gate. Thick, black-metal cords run from those gates into the indistinct distance, each to a different plate-district; the one directly above Hermes' location even appears to have the dark-brown lump of metal and fiberglass that pass for cable-cars around here, parked sleepily.<

Even inside the capitol, airborne vehicles are kind of tricky to maintain, so we reserve them for heavy cargo and urgent traffic. Anyone who needs to get to the tower, uses the cable cars. Which led me to remodel two floors of the tower into a transportation hub. You can get anywhere inside the capitol from the tower!

Except where I took that photo from. Only Hermes can get into the reactor, still.

#IC #Viewable ICly

[5-1-20-13-5]

[A picture is posted of two figures standing in front of a walk-in freezer.

One is a flat chested anthropomorphic cow person.

White with black spots, pink dyed hair, big blue eyes, and lots of facial piercings.

They have human hands with black nails and are dressed in a very generic fast-food worker's uniform.

The other is clean, white and fresh, like a cold glass of milk.

Long and gangly, like a newborn calf.

He can’t be any older than 15.

Dressed in a milkman’s uniform, with his hat tilted back to keep it off of the nubby little horns on His forehead.

Someone has marked His forehead with a thumbprint of blood and made Him holy.

Despite never seeing this being before, you immediately KNOW who and what this thing is, as if the information is being shoved into your brain by force.

The creature, this being is the Milkman.

THE Milkman.

The one true Milkman.

His smile is endless, teeth white and perfect.

Eyes that deep baleful black only animals can manage.

His ears are long and expressive, like a real cow. They frame His face pleasantly and make Him almost charming.

There is a ring through His nose, like a septum piercing but Not. Golden and glowing like a misplaced halo.

A cowbell hangs around His neck.

Everything aside from His scant bovine features is beautifully, painfully human.]

He wouldn't leave until I posted this

#ic #viewable icly #ask to tag

[corvidave]

==> Be past Crowkid

[A video is posted of a darkened bedroom, the only light is moonlight streaming in through a nearby open window.

Shiny trinkets and bones hang from the ceiling and cast twisting shadows.

Everything is eerily silent except for the gentle rattle of trinkets swaying in the nighttime breeze.

The camera slowly pans around the room, freezing when a human scream can be heard outside. The sound cuts off way too sharply and is way too close for comfort.

Two shapes flinch in the dark bedroom, slowly unfurling and becoming a pair of crows.

Crowkid gets out of bed slowly and crawls towards the window on his belly, as if afraid to be seen.

The camera is slowly lifted to the window.

Outside the yard is bathed in moonlight and a wind turbine crafted from junk creaks ominously in the wind.

There is a girl staring directly at the window, her eyes a glowing uranium green in the dark. Her head jerks suddenly to one side with an awful snapping sound, neck at a 90 degree angle, and Crowkid immediately drops his phone in alarm.

What follows is a few seconds of shakey breathing and frantic scrabbling until the phone is picked up again.

When we next see the yard, it's completely empty.

Crowkid shudders audibly and we hear him speak for the first time, "What the-the FUCK?!"

The answer to his question comes in the form of another scream, much closer and louder than before. It doesn't trail off or cut out this time, instead becoming an inhuman, guttural roar.

The camera flicks around frantically, outside, inside, but there's no intruder to be seen as the roar crescendos into a misshapen howl answered by something else far off in the distance.

The sound makes the camera glitch somehow, as if trying to process the audio is having adverse effects on the phone itself.

And then...

Silence.

As heavy and damp as breath on the back of your neck.

Crowkid doesn't move, and for awhile all we hear is his panting and the agitated fluttering of his birds.

The room is suddenly plunged into deeper shadows, camera whipping around to face the window, only to be met by a pair of uranium green eyes in an impossibly large face.

An animal's face.

Dark furred and long muzzled, white teeth set in a green maw and decorated with garlands of drool.

How... how did it get up here without him noticing?

One of the crows SCREAMS "RUN!" In a voice that sounds far too human and Crowkid doesn't have to be told twice. He darts forward, tucking the crows under one arm and keeping a death grip on his phone with the other.

He slams shoulder first into the door just as the beast claws its way into the house, obliterating the window with its sheer bulk.

There's no time to close the door, only time to run as Crowkid barrels down the hallway, the sounds of destruction following in his wake.

He vaults the stairs, rolling with the impact as he hits the livingroom floor hard and makes a beeline for the front door, slamming it open like he did with the other one and not a moment too soon.

He turns around just in time to see the creature coming after him.

Something like a black wolf, but way too big.

The size of a moose, MINIMUM.

With human hands instead of front paws, each finger tipped with a claw that would have made Lady Dimitrescu proud.

It's eyes are the same solid, glowing green, as the inside of its mouth and its drool leaves glowstick puddles on the floor.

The beast crouches low as if preparing to leap, but the moment it leaves the ground the front door slams shut of its own accord and all we hear is the meaty THUD of the creature smacking fast first into a wall.

It screams in rage, that horrible too human but not human enough scream that sounds like some poor girl being stabbed to death, or something.

Crowkid knows he should be running but there's so much happening that he can't DO anything except stand there and film.

He drops the crows and listens to them fly away as the sounds in the house go from unparalleled destruction to that same damp silence as before.

Tension sinks its teeth into the scene for a heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

And then the attic window explodes in a spray of glass, drywall, and bird shit.

The creature hurtles towards earth like a furry meteor, landing on top of Crowkid with a thunderous noise.

The phone goes flying and we get a perfect view of a tiny white haired figure nearly buried beneath a mountain of black fur and teeth.

He screams, and screams but does not die. The wolf has its teeth around Crowkid's arm, biting and shaking its massive head as if trying to tear him apart.

A gunshot nearby startles the monster just enough for Crowkid to pull his arm out and scramble away.

The beast snarls and goes to give chase again but another gunshot sounds and the monster yelps in pain, crumpling to the ground as Crowkid finally makes it to his phone and a man in a robe and pajamas stumbles out of the woods holding a shotgun.

Its aimed at the beast, who lays crouched and snarling nearby.

"Goddamn it Jade!" the man exclaims, "What have you done?"

He glances at Crowkid's ruined house, gun still firmly pointed at the wolf-thing.

Said wolf-thing *smiles*, a gestures that's way too human. There's blood on its teeth, Crowkid's blood.

The man grimaces at the sight and lowers the gun, glancing around for any obvious carnage.

He spots Crowkid and the relief on his moustached face is palpable.

The beast tries to rise to its feet, but is promptly shot and immediately thinks better of its decision.

The man keeps the gun trained on the beast and slowly approaches it, ignoring the way it growls.

"Oh shut up," he says, and slips something over its head. The beast immediately collapses, unconscious. "When you wake up, you're extremely grounded, young lady."

Crowkid hasn't moved, he's just standing there pointing his camera at all this weird horror movie bullshit. The wolf starts to shrink, fold in on itself until it's that girl from earlier. The man throws his robe over her and gently picks her up. He looks at Crowkid with kind uranium green eyes, "Are you hurt? Did she bite you?"

The man doesn't get an answer, as Crowkid himself collapses and drops his phone for the last time.

The video ends.]

#ic #action post #viewable icly #body horror #horror #blood #cynophobia #ask to tag #plot stuff

[mxthshadxws]

an image is posted of the twins, 3 years old and clad in cozy clothing, each with a watch affixed to a sturdy ribbon around their necks.

Aramis holds a watch that glistens black like obsidian, carved with designs, inlaid with gold for the watch face. Aramis holds it like a plate or mirror, sniffing the ticking hands, making it hard to discern the design.

Alicia Marie seems to be caught in the midst of trying to gnaw on her watch, scowling as she receives a scolding. her watch is silver and the engravings on hers seem to be lunar themed. the jet black rabbit, black metal with platinum details, looks out with raised alert ears from the watch face, behind elegant clock hands, with a central blue purple gem.

#viewable icly

[the-sparks-crossing-chronicle]

Fairyland in Turmoil

At approximately noon today, several geysers of unknown origin appeared in Wonderland today, spraying a "thick black liquid" into the sky.

Eye witnesses have been recorded saying "It's like the world just tore open, like it was made of paper."

This comes as a one-two punch to the small country, as its prince was reported missing this morning.

No word from the Royal family on this tragedy, but several well known anti- monarchist groups have already taken credit for the kidnapping.

The anomalous liquid raining down on Wonderland is thought to be the same substance that was found leaking from the stitching of several plush toys in Toyland today, but experts have declined to make any sort of connections on the matter.

"Infected" toys are showing uncharacteristically violent and unpredictable behavior, and extreme sensitivity to light.

These toys have been quarantined, and any non toys visiting the country are being urged to evacuate.

Dreamland has not been spared by this calamity either, as there have been numerous reports of Nightmares escaping containment.

Dream Weavers urge viewers to keep a flashlight by their bedside tonight, or sleep with the lights on if possible, at least until the situation can be resolved.

Several Nightmares have already made their way to surrounding countries and have begun nesting there, with the first casualties already totalling in the dozens.

Government officials urge locals to evacuate if possible, and to call if they notice anything else out of the ordinary.

#nick posts #viewable icly #ok to rb #down the rabbit hole again #ask to tag // #the sparks crossing chronicle

[furby-organist]

“Hmmmm. I will admit, out of all the other Alassstor’s I’ve come across so far, you must be the most…curioussss one that I think I’ve ever met. Not that I mean any offensssse by the notion of course, I simply mean that you are a bit of a…wild card, shall we say. Not quite certain what to make of you.”

> Alastor nearly responds with his usual parasocial clownassery friendliness, like the jester he is, when--

This is the same person who blew his alternate's guts out.

And for a moment, all he can think about is his alternate, his friend, his arocrush, delirious in the hospital with his insides obliterated--

-- and he wants to go for the throat. He wants to kill. He wants to sink his teeth and claws in and tear, limb from limb, to eviscerate with his bare hands and make this sinner feel his alternate's pain sevenfold, to slice and dice and cut, cut, cut, cut like they do in the movies, to bite and bite and devour and devour--

-- no. This sinner is powerful enough to get one in on an equally powerful (if not more!) Radio Demon. And this Radio Demon likes his insides to stay inside. Personal preference. This is not someone he wants to upset if he doesn't need to.

And it looks like he's garnered his curiosity. The only thing more dangerous, Alastor thinks, would be garnering his interest and then losing it. Can he even nip this in the bud by greyrocking, when his entire thing is being wild on air? Either way, it's a damn good thing he's a good actor.

> "Thank you! No offense taken."

#sssardonian ssserpent #// one day I will make a proper tag for 'not f2f. alexa talkin 2 the internet via text-to-speech&speech-to-text' or smth #tentative 'not in person' and 'icly viewable to other muses' tag #HEE HOO THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS ASK IN!! #if anyone is wondering -- no alexa does not know his alt let sir pentious take the shot #he has just concluded that this sir pentious is like. concerningly powerful and has radio demon beef #alexa vc: *nervous laughter* I'm in danger #ALSO I USUALLY DON'T WRITE THIS MUCH PLS DON'T FEEL LIKE U NEED TO MATCH ANYTHING #I rarely get to write local Alastor being like. This flavor of mad so!! ye.!! #I'll keep it shorter on future replies!

[bowlingshirts]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: missives;;

Followup regarding statement 0090303: The Pitfall

Statement details town that sank into the ground, suspected entity the buried

; Sediment sample acquired from three different levels

;; top layer

;; 4 feet deep

;; 6 feet deep

Digging occurred in approximate location of busy area of small town, did not find any proof of building material

Suspect won’t find any signs of corpses under rubble

No true clear indicator of existence of rubble outside of premise that there was a town in area at some point

Does not appear to have been disturbed in some time, appropriate plant growth none seems to be out of the ordinary to native plantlife

Sending sediment sample to Institute overnighted, attached receipt  along with sample 

No disturbance to native wildlife, presence of life thriving within bounds of lost town, not likely site will be prominent to any future buried rituals on bounds of no life to be sacrificed other than all these bleeding bugs

Recommend mosquito net if we have intention of coming back for third checkin of ex township

Would not recommend another review of ex township

It’s pretty barren

Missives end

Notes: So this one seems like a bust? I didn’t actually intend for there to be anything here in the first place, but the large gaps in what we know about the entities at this point, as well at the about three? Four years? Where we could do little to no legwork research on things outside of you doing it yourself means we’re a little crippled for information at this point. This is just a rudimentary checklist to make sure there’s no lasting effects of the buried’s activity in this location.

Local residents don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, but we’re at least far enough away from institute to not get laughed out of the situation from listing their name. So, this is safe.

Sorry to waste your time boss, return followup request if you have anything you think I’ve missed. That DOESN’T involve digging up six feet of dirt. Did it on my own but I don’t think I’ll be a repeat offender to THAT excursion

Notes end

- Tim

#Missives #Icly viewable if in timeline

[cyberneticlagomorph]

[A short video of a pixie in a teacup, paddling furiously down a flooded hallway with a spoon and a little paper pirate hat. The pixie looks very spidery and fuzzy, the water is about ankle deep.]

This is my life now

#ic #viewable icly

[mercswercs]

A Wizard's Threads, bitches.

>It's a photo of a 5' length of petrified, white wood. The thing looks almost like a thorny, skeletal arm, mostly straight and ending with in a tangled mess of jagged branches. The thing bends about halfway down its length, a slight 170 degree curve Mercury's staff, made from Wayouddan Desert driftwood, houses a brilliant, neon-purple crystal; the intricate crystal appears to be a natural growth, curving in a way that the wood ought to, as it explodes out of the rusty-looking tin can that Merc incubated said crystal in. There's a pair of black-leather straps, frayed and unfinished at the edges, making a pair of grips, which imply (along with the general bend of the staff itself) that she often uses it like a gun.

>Hanging behind it, against the red-rocked cliff wall, is a white-leather duster, modified (poorly) with some kind of black-feather liner. The jacket itself is modified to hell and back, either with armor sewn onto it, or strapped over them as traditional plates; hanging from the shoulders, pinned to a pauldron on one side, and pinned to the other shoulder with some kind of scavenged pin, is a long cloak. The cloak is a patchwork, five pieces of dark-brown hide, stitched together with black wire. The edges of the cloak are inscribed with sloppy, poorly-aligned runes, stamped directly into the leather.

#IC #Viewable ICly

[sintwerks]

>It's a "sample" video of Hermes, all short and stocky and red of hair and face. The camera follows her face as it bobs, teeth gritted and eyes crossed and tensed, as if she was holding on for dear life. And she is, as the camera zooms out to reveal a barrel-chested woman with close-cropped, brunette hair, railing the shit out of her. Birdie, holding Hermes aloft at the hips, entirely by herself, is busily slamming away. After some thirty seconds of steady plap-plap-plapping, another figure steps into frame.

>Similarly naked (Except Hermes, who's been dressed up in a fishnet bodysuit, torn in multiple places) is Franky, freckles glowing like hot embers on his skin and hair curly and tomato-red. He steps up to Hermes' mouth, grabbing her shoulders not-at-all gently. The camera angle changes, and in the next Frame, a painfully hard tdick can be seen, glistening under a bush of sunset-red pubes. Hermes' eyes go from crossed and internally unfocused to... primal, hungry. Like her thoughts could be read through her eyes, or heard through her suddenly very occupied mouth: "Cock! Cock! Cock! All kinds, all sizes! Fuck me! Fuck me!"

>Franky slowly slides his fingers into Hermes' hair, slowly closing his grasp on her locks as her head shoulders begin to shake and shutter harder; behind her Birdie grunts, and begins to thrust harder. Apparently, Hermes' reaction to having Franky's supernaturally hot bush crammed up her nose (and Franky's taste replacing her every taste-receptor) was to tense up. The slapping noise eventually fades out, along with the video.

#IC #Viewable ICly

[desirmortel]

❗ who are you exactly?

oh, that’s easy!

i’m -

[the ask glitches out, deleting itself]

#[not viewable icly] #Anonymous #Q And A

[marwolaethchwantus]

I do not understand the desire of a species or of a singular wanting to eradicate a lesser inferior species.

It would be a waste. Harvest their bodies. Their organs. Feed upon them. Make use of their talents.

Strip their will and turn them into mindless drones.

Needless bloodshed is for those who lack creativity and actual power to make use of said lessers.

#[not viewable icly]