#ic action post

[crowned-relapse-king]

@andwrecks

It's a little tricky to navigate through until Julian finally locks on to Rex as the black torn open void appears. He's quick to lean out, flashing a SoCal smile, attempting to keep it calm and cool, but he's honestly really excited.

Finally! Another wolf to hang out with for a good time and for some relaxation. It was something he needed after a two, or was it a three day coke binge?

Oh well, did time really matter when you're immortal? It's a mental shrug off, offering out his hand to the exhausted shifter.

"Ya ready to go, friend?"

[narcotic-pharmacology]

Continued from:

@radiatorchains

He was a powder keg waiting to explode, and Foolish seriously had met his own limit when the hand he rose to grab his work ledger nearly met a rather vile bite.

An eerie silence settled between the two, Fool's eyes display a simmering ire. The dealer hastily dismissed the others until it was just him and Jain standing alone in the warehouse. For a while, he simply stares, sizing up the other shifter.

Then, Fool slowly began to move, circling the werehyena with calculated steps.

"What have I told you about biting the hand that feeds?"

[goryh0le]

Dingdong! It's a burning bag of dog shit!

It takes a lot more than fire and shit to rattle him. Han picks it up bare-handed and lobs it after the fleeing prankster. Flame flapping like a banner behind it, it sails in a smooth arc to splatter its payload forcefully on the back of their head. The impact knocks them prone and paints a wide brown cone on the asphalt about.

[despairs-tyrant-king]

💦 Melchior

@szemiesza

Oh god, where did one begin and the other end? Monsters caught in an infinite power play, ripping at viscera and bone. With each regeneration, they reach a new frenzied peak.

At some point, the sun rises, and the snake is finally slain. Skin rips and the muscle tears as a bite force 3600 psi is delivered to the vampires neck. Bone is easily serrated as the multi-eyed head falls to the ground.

"His pain is my pain. His enemy is my enemy."

Julian roars out, drunk off the carnality of his own victory. It's not enough to feed as he begins to defile the corpse, fucking into the cavernous abdominal cavity with virility.

He shoots up from his bed, heart racing covered in a cold sweat and..ejaculate? The man's stomach flips, suddenly sickened in himself as he quietly stood and made his way to the bathroom.

[jaggybot3000]

me when i converse with the evil scroll that's been corrupting me for decades(it actually was never able to talk at all, i've just been talking to myself this whole time)

[narcotic-pharmacology]

"I'm going to end the live feed and head out. I need sleep and I suggest you try to get some as well."

He replied, exiting the facility without looking back. It was better this way, letting Jain stay and simmer in whatever way he might be thinking.

The dealer sets the keys to the shifters truck on top of the hood since he had someone drop it off earlier, and then he steps into his own vehicle, starting it up and taking off.

The bull was an easy enough slaughter, taking the raging animal down with claws, teeth and talons amd shredding into flesh while the beast bellowed in fearful pain. It was unknown what actually killed the bull first- blood loss, a severed spine, effects of disembowelment- either way the hyaenid creature basked in the gore and bloodshed, desperately wolfing down meat and viscera through any of its three mouths only for the mouthfuls to he rejected by another mouth. Rage and hunger, still struck with waves of world-spinning exhaustion as the remnants of the drug still worked its way through him.

Once the sisyphean task of attempting to slake an unending hunger began to lose its appeal, the creature that was once Jain whooped low to the concrete floor, almost deep enough to rattle the ground like a small earthquake. WhooooOOOOOp whhooooooooOOOOp, followed by frustrated laughter as he cantered around the perimeter of his makeshift prison. A few times he slammed himself full force against the side, attempting to bash himself free to get out. He needed to go, he needed to go to...someone. No, he knew who. He needed to rip into the cold flesh of the vampire and put an end to his hunger. More cackles and whoops, earth rattling slams against walls that cracked bones and drew blood.

[redrobin-detective]

There's some inherent tragic horror in the fact that Simon canonically doesn't remember much of what he did as Ice King, just 'dreamlike impressions'. I imagine he remembers people, certain significant moments but otherwise it's kind of a blur. Simon is over a thousand years old but he barely remembers any of it. Not to mention the non-magical human brain isn't built to contain so much memory so any attempts to recall could be dangerous for him.

Imagine how terrible it is to be told a story of yourself acting strange and manic and pathetic and terrible and there's no internal context for it. It may as well have happened to someone else in a dream but its the personality and actions most people know you by. Simon hears an outrageous story of Ice King and who knows if it's real or not? He barely knows who the man was.

[slutpoppers]

Castlevania: Nocturne S2 (2025)

[crowned-relapse-king]

@radiatorchains

Julian was at a loss, looking at the medical kits that he had packed. His powers of healing were above average, so there wouldn't be a need for sutures or staples.

Hell, he probably wouldn't need to worry about wound dressings or antibiotics. But what did have him unnerved was the pain that was to come during the rapid regeneration.

The man sighs, tossing a bottle of alcohol on the hotel bed, ready to close the makeshift surgical kit bag when he spies the local anesthetic block. He takes it into his hand, wondering if it was worth a shot and if it would last long enough in his system.

Then again, the man didn't have a clue if the pellets were in deep or if they were more superficial. Raising his head to the door, Julian noticed that Jain wasn't back yet. Chewing at his bottom lip, the man decides to try, removing a syringe and a couple of hypodermic needles.

Bastardizing medicine, he drew up 7cc and changed out needles before sitting on the bed. He pulls up the leg of his boxers, estimating the incision area, injecting it in various areas on the side of his upper left thigh.

Each puncture created a sharp burning sensation that quickly dissipated into numbness, allowing him to finally exhale as the werehyena finally walked inside.

[breadandbloodybutter]

Flexing some Not Safe For Work writing to get back in the groove. Warnings/What's Involed: Raphael x 'Reader' {no gender implied}, Mild Sex Scene, Mild Mention of Choking, Most Likely Didn't Live Through That Sex, Raphael Language of being derogatory of mortals needs and lives or just anyone that isn't him.

As he'd lifted their leg to partake in the scent of their skin, a longer than mortal tongue ran along half of the appendage's length.

Was he showing off? Transforming himself, one piece at a time? Of course he was. After all, part of such an intimate dance was the performance itself.

All for his own benefit.

Haarlep had once quipped that Raphael only ever loved Raphael - as true now than it had ever been. Putting on such airs and graces, indulging in the subtle art of using words and whimsy to ensnare the willing; it might as well have all been foreplay for himself.

Still, there was always something so deliciously divine about the way that they would look at him, breathless and wanting - just the way that he liked them. To taste the very sweat from their pores, to know that in this moment, they existed only for him.

Souls would never taste sweeter than those willing to bear themselves nakedly to the endless hunger of a devil.

"Legs apart now, pet." Raphael would purr with a voice thick and sweet as honey, now black nails digging into their thighs as he settled himself between them. Ordinarily, pleasuring another was beneath him, more of a mercy on their behalf than any desire to do so - oh, but the way that this one begged and pleaded so sweetly, the air thick with how much they wanted to be defiled..

It would have been ungentlemanly to not have a more personal taste.

The screams that followed would have surely been heard by the tavern below, but he cared little for any auditory audiences they may have had. Let them hear - let them envy, tremble before how he could command mortal flesh to bend, to beg and to break. To hang on every one of his words, to sing (and sometimes curse) praises to the heavens, whilst he showed them every sin that hell had to offer.

Licking at his lips, Raphael reached over to grab a nearby silken handkerchief, wiping their filth from his mouth before addressing them again smugly. "I take it that you have no complaints?"

Rather a pity that mortals tended to be so fragile. One of the few benefits of Haarlep at least, that there were less limitations, if any. Perhaps, that's why he found himself indulging from time to time - that their lives were so fleeting. To taste upon their souls before they were completely consumed. Such a privilege it was for them, surely.

Oh, and the trepidation! The way that their poor hearts would stutter, their breath would catch at having to accommodate his cambion form, far greater than any cock they would have taken. How their eyes would widen for the briefest of moments, before rolling back at the overflowing of ecstasy, even with the pain of it - to feel every ridge driving again and again without pause.

Succumbing to such desires could ultimately earn one their death.

How their arms would try to hold him - so sickeningly mortal - and he would knock them away, that they would dare try to embrace him in such a human way - holding them down by the throat and knowing that their lives, the very essence of body and soul - they were in his hands, that they were dependent on him, every thread of their existence in this moment was tied to him--

Such thoughts always led to the same conclusion. Snarling through a furious climax that most couldn't even have the decency to live through. And why should they? Blood certainly wasn't the only thing an infernal had that was always running hot.

Thankfully, the staff at the Sharess Caress were always providing excellent room service, and a discretion that led to a profitable exchange. For as long as he would support their business, they would support his.

..Even if on occasion, that business may have overlapped with personal pleasures.

[crowned-relapse-king]

It's a moment of vulnerability to cherish, lost in his lovers touch, and in the post-orgasm bliss. He relished every tender caress, inhaling and exhaling slowly, listening to the rain fall outside of his penthouse apartment.

Julian gazes up, looking at their reflection on the mirror above them, a deep part of him wanting to isolate this moment within time itself. There's a sudden twinge in their connection, a pause as if a certain thought kept running about in their mind.

He props his head up, smiling softly as the silence between them is interrupted, running a thumb along Stan's jawline, immersed in the deep violet hues.

"Yes, my love?"

@crowned-relapse-king

Stan gives a small rumble, pressing his head under Julian's chin as they were cuddling after a passionate evening. A calm moment between them as they simply stopped and listened to the rain. Fingers were lightly tracing over his lover's musculature, letting out a slow, stale, content sigh.

However... something was on his mind, and it has been for a while. Julian could probably feel it through their connection. He didn't want to keep him with that feeling without bringing it up.

"Hey Julian?" He finally voices, breaking the silence and moving to look at him with those ancient violet eyes.

[novaricewrites]

Sometimes I almost understand those half-feral artists with their muses.

It is absurd how much the idea of Tamlin and Lucien have me in a chokehold. Especially when SJM likely did not mean for me as an audience to contemplate them like this. And the more she means for the readers to hate on the characters, the more I end up thinking about them.

Socially awkward and complex character who never wanted to be in a position of power, was pretty much set up for failure by the narrative from the start? Also has hobbies as a musician and writes limericks? Tragic and absolutely has my attention.

A loyal, silver-tongued man with burning red hair and sad brown eyes? A past drenched in loss, loneliness and betrayals? Completely done wrong by the author and other characters around him and isn't given justice? I am weak.

Yes the characters and the series have problems (which also drive me up the wall) but sometimes I want to be a simple girl and appreciate simple ideas and pretty things.

Some characters are so very lovely to me in an abstract way and I can't explain it. I love the idea of characters but often the lost potential makes me sad.

That is all.

[cyberneticlagomorph]

[Several pictures from inside Jack's weird underground dirt mansion.

The first picture is of several dozen children crowded around the hearth in Jack's kitchen, some of them are visibly human while others clearly used to be humans at one point or another, many of them are Jack's actual kids like Egg, Ambrose, or Lottie, all of them are wrapped in thick much loved quilts and are being silently harassed by a crowd of steaming tea pots with various limbs (paws, bird legs, bug legs, one has a pair of thin stick legs ending in tiny sneakers with untied laces) and their matching cups, spoons, and so on. Several of the kids are asleep or halfway there, soaking up the warmth and company. A fox faced child is hauling an inadvisably large platter piled impossibly high various sandwiches, followed diligently by a very familiar brown great dane.

Another image is of Jack's sheep in her barn, similarly snuggled up against the cold. An up close shot of the sheep shows many tiny faces peeking out of the sheeps' wool. A menagerie of gnomes, pixies, hob goblins and other such smallfolk are tucked in safe and warm on the backs of Jack's herd, or are sipping steaming milk from the multiple bowls set out around the barn. There are loaves of crusty bread and open jars of honey, jam, and other spreads for the visitors to snack on. Several of Jack's dogs are also host to the tiny visitors, their fur now intricately braided with beads, buttons, and feathers.

The last image is of Jack's hand flipping the bird at the empty yard beyond, his hand is joined by several of his partners, children, his mother, father in law, and a Goblin who is very happy to be included. ]

[iimexpensiive]

"Oh, to be pegged on a Saturday night~"

[djsangos]

You stare, long and hard, at the message you're about to send to literally everyone whose number you have, except the old men. You'll ask them separately. Probably. Maybe.

hey guys sorry im sending this to the entire coddamn planet but its pretty important a friend of mines gone missing and im trying to help his best friend find him he may or may not even bee around inkopolis or splatsville but if anyone just happens to see him could you let me know hes tall as hell you couldnt miss him thanks have a great day dont forget to drink water and sparkle on

After one more read through, you tilt the phone so that Eight can read the message from where you're leaning up against her.

"This look good?"

Eight's face twists in contemplation as they read, and then afterwards, just nod and remind you, "Don't forget to add a picture."

"Oh. Right."

While you attach one of Leo's selfies that you downloaded for this, Eight says, "Are you sure asking everyone is a good idea? Do you think anyone will recognize him as a human?"

You shake your head, not really in disagreement, more out of resignation. "It's been like two weeks. If he's around here at all, we need all the eyes we can get. Gotta go down every avenue."

"And I've gotta tell Marina he's a human anyway," you continue. "And she'll definitely tell at least Pearl. Speaking of which..." You open Marina's contact to draft a message to her, too. You're not sure if it's a good idea to ask for her tech wizard help before or after you've already asked everyone else you know to keep their eyes peeled for a human, might as well get the messages written and figure out the order of operations later. Parentheses, and then exponent... what the hell even is an exponent, again?

"I know you want to help any way you can, I just don't want you to be reckless... Maybe try sending the message to smaller groups? So that you're not overwhelming anyone with that many contacts. And yourself, too."

Okay, actually, that's probably a way better idea than just sending the same message to every single person you know at the same time. "You're so smart... that's way better than my first plan."

"I'm glad I could help!"

"I'm gonna kiss you so much when I'm done with this. Just you wait."

To the sound of giggling from your girlfriend, you start typing out your message to Marina, and then you'll split up the group message after.

This is gonna be a whole lot of typing.

[whateverthought]

God, I wonder what the Tyrells' plans were before the War of Five Kings. Because we know they asked Ned Stark if Margaery looked anything like Lyanna, or enough that Robert would make the connection, so that means they what? They planned on marrying her to the King even though the Queen's still alive, so they'd kill Cersei? Is that it, or did they plan on taking the princes out too?