pummelgranite: (and it's hollow and it's cold)
[personal profile] pummelgranite
[ Today, the Church of the Morningstar is looking a little different. It, and the grounds, have been decorated with thousands and thousands of pure white Easter Lilies. Some are planted, coming out of the ground, others draped in garlands and in wreathes. How did they do it? A miracle? Porter powers? An serious business event coordinator and an absurd number of day laborers? It is a mystery. There is also now a large banner reading: ]

The Wicked + The Divine Spoilers )


Mar. 5th, 2017 06:23 pm
redhott: (pic#10434068)
[personal profile] redhott
[ Well, Kyle's been having a time of it back home. He's come back a little wiser, a lot stronger, and with giant ears. And fangs. And unwieldy black claws. They're actually making texting kind of hard, but it's better than video or audio right now. He's not letting this freak show go on display in front of the entire network. But he does need help from them, sssoooo... ]

got a question for everyone
or maybe the ladies
whoever is ok!
Im kinda in need of a really good nail salon
like hardcore veteran manicurist

Id really appreciate any recs thx
nextlevel: (vy001)
[personal profile] nextlevel
[ The video opens on two young men sitting side by side on a couch, set up to address the camera together. One is younger, Japanese, with dark hair and glasses; he is way, way less enthused about this than the platinum blond Russian dude waving enthusiastically at the video feed. ]

Um … well … I’m … Katsuki Yuuri. [ He trails off, mumbling more about himself, but it doesn’t quite make it to the microphone. He seems wildly uncomfortable to be doing this. The last phrase sounds something like “nice to meet you” but it’s hard to tell. ]

[ The Russian chooses that moment to sling an arm around the shoulders of his embarrassed companion and lean on him a bit, his heart-shaped smile and handsome face gorgeous enough to be in a fashion magazine. He looks into the camera with no hesitation at all. ]

Hiii! [ he proclaims brightly, his Russian accent becoming more evident as he talks. ] I’m Viktor Nikiforov, and I’m Yuuri’s figure skating coach! We just finished our biggest competition of the year, the Grand Prix Final, and we just wanted to reach out to our fans to thank them all for their support!

[ Yuuri chokes at that, his next comment coming out as a squawk. ]

-- Eh!? VIktor, this is a different dimension! We don’t have fans here!

But we can get NEW fans! [ Viktor winks at the camera before he turns his head to look at Yuuri mischievously. ]

Wh - Viktor, no! We don’t know anyone! Not in public--!

[ And then the feed goes down as Yuuri manages to knock it over before Viktor throws himself at him. ]

(( OOC: Opt-in post for mushy feelings mental effect! Basically your skater boys cause some low level good feelings/romantic impulses around them. This is 100% optional and will not be referenced unless you comment to the opt-in post or specifically react to the effect in your response. ))
pummelgranite: (50K for a verse no album out)
[personal profile] pummelgranite
[ 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.
pummelgranite: (she on a diet)
[personal profile] pummelgranite
[ It is time, once more, for the unwashed masses to be blessed by a missive from the high goddess of #Aesthetic. She is lounging on her throne of roots and bone, holly sprigs and mistletoe have been braided into her hair. It's all very seasonal. ]

We are now entertaining suitors for our step son, a strong and handsome demi-god. Would-be suitors must be male, with an effective age rang of 13-16. Must also be be steadfast in the face of darkness, death, and Hell itself. Come before the Destroyer if you would prove your worth.

No drummers.



Dec. 18th, 2016 07:56 pm
heckblazer: (sneaky)
[personal profile] heckblazer
[ Most of the imPort community will receive a notification on their devices about a new network post. An image is posted with a very minimal amount of unaccompanied text. ]

large-ish image under cut )
anxiogenic: (Skeptical [AU])
[personal profile] anxiogenic
This is a world where nobody can be certain what is real. Tabloid scandal and tittle-tattle surround our mad lives. Journalists take shots at clearing the superstition enveloping those who choose to wear a mask, and like most they do it for the money, selfishly exposing the names of heroes and villains alike.

[His right hand hoists up a headline, framed at the bottom with his left palm. The accompanying photograph is of a blonde propping up a bar, split with a shot of her professionally dressed in a skirt and doctor's jacket. Hair up, round glasses. A girl so neat you can take her home to meet the family.]

Party Girl Harley Quinn Goes Profesh: Can It Last?

What trenchant contempt. Such grubby hands, tearing off flesh to show the bones beneath! Masks contain a definite meaning, an intellectual formula, are expressions of human feeling for the surrounding world. They are creations of the human mind and, as such, deserve respect. No matter whether they're an identity behind which one reconstructs their self or a shield that protects loved ones.

We understand how dangerous they can be. Do they think they can hide before facing the consequences of this drivel?

[Blech! He lays down the page.]

Guess it all boils down to one question for me, anyway. One more important than Harleen Quinzel's metamorphosis.

[He refuses to call her a doctor.]

What's Batman's deal?


Dec. 17th, 2016 06:11 am
mischiefsmith: (pic#8543975)
[personal profile] mischiefsmith
[Behold, your resident God of trickery and similar! With one hand he's pouring about a gallon of malibu into a gallon of ice cream...and with the other hand he's dicing (or more accurately stabbing) a generous pile of mistletoe with a butter knife...

...why? It's probably best if you didn't ask.]

So, question, birthdays tend to be a thing and so I find myself dying to know how you celebrate, if you have them. Are they individual endeavors is it cultural? Food is often part of the whole birthday package, yes? Although I suppose birthday fasting is not unheard of. [Not that Loki would ever fast if the ice cream is anything to go by.] And just so I do not come off as discriminatory to those who do not have birthdays, or once did but cannot remember--because lives are angst ridden and complicated that way--if you did how would you celebrate.

[He's not asking for any particular reason, obviously, it's just that he finds the minutiae of every day life fascinating.]
magnitudes: ((๑-﹏-๑))
[personal profile] magnitudes
( Ah, it’s a heartwarming holiday scene, viewers. Sarissa, lounging on a couch, somehow inexplicably still with severe tank top tanlines despite a) it being winter and b) her wearing a tank top, which surely should theoretically make the tanlines less apparent. Not today, apparently. It reads “Sorry for the thing I said when I was hungry,” but perhaps “Sorry for what I’m about to say now I’m drunk” would be more fitting. She’s got a neon curly straw sticking out of a bottle of bourbon, and a cocktail umbrella tucked behind her ear, and appears to be wearing tropical board shorts. It’s just that kind of day. Or night. Whatever.

Sitting next to her is Pablo, who is wearing a striped cardigan, black shorts, and fiddling with his bangs and a straightening iron until he notices that Sarissa is recording. He frees his hair and sets the iron aside, picking up instead his own drink of choice (non-alcoholic; it's a capri-sun pouch) so he can more easily listen. )

Okay, but like. Okay, no, sorry, but if you think about any of the stuff that all of us across all our bloody worlds have gotta have in common, it’s art, yeah? Like— creativity. Art and poems and music, the expression of everything that makes us who we are given some kinda solid shape. Whether its colours or melodies or whatever form we gotta grab and twist about, it’s expressions of the world and how we understand it, right? It’s a way to know that we’re not going out of our bloody minds, because there’s thing element that we can understand and connect with, and it links us to other people. It’s why people got all fired up about the Spice Girls, a while back.

( That isn’t actually what happened, Sarissa, but sure. Go with that. ) And Pablo here, he’s an artist. Makes the world make sense with colours. Everything is colours and— and texture. It’s stories all layered up and up, kind of like people. We’re all hundreds of thousands of stories all layered together and then laid out.

What? Oh, uh...

( Pablo seems to not know what to say about that, given his silence, though if he feels put on the spot it doesn't show on his face. He starts to shake his head, but then instead opts to say: )

Right. Well you know, I don't know if it even has to exactly make sense, if like... we can still look at it and feel something, because either somehow we do understand it, on the level of like... uh... ( He gestures circularly over his head, glancing in Sarissa's direction for a moment but then upward. How to say it? ) You know, intuitively, even if we don't know why, or what anything really means. Or we don't understand but try to, or-- sometimes people don't want to. It all depends. But, uh-- yeah, it's still a little bit of everything and everyone we've ever known, too. Like stories.

( He stops talking and looks back over at Sarissa. )

Or a jigsaw puzzle. Or, uh— there’s this art, in Japan? Kint— ah, shit. Kintsuko...roi? It’s um, it’s like the to do with change and journeys and things gathering more meaning. I guess. I mean technically it’s about repairing broken stuff with gold lacquer, but it’s like an extra layer? Like a new addition to the story. Somethings not less perfect for being broken, and it doesn’t lose something. It gains it? I don’t know, make that a metaphor, if you wanna. People and art fit together. ( She grins, a bit ridiculously. ) And if they don’t, we can glue ‘em together with gold lacquer. It could get very Klimpt. Or Kahlo.

( Sarissa frowns, then, as she delicately sips her bourbon. ) Does anyone else do that? Like finding ways to express the way they understand things more tangibly? Like an enigma machine for your thoughts?
ohmyclara: (a chest filled with diamonds and gold)
[personal profile] ohmyclara
[The feed clicks on, and the voice that follows is astoundingly cheery in comparison to the subject matter.]

So. How would you go about celebrating a birthday and a deathday at the same time, without involving cake or alcohol?

[A beat.]

Asking for a friend.


Nov. 6th, 2016 01:04 pm
purple_reign: (Seriously. Look at how hot I am.)
[personal profile] purple_reign
[The video opens to a shot of Inanna and Persephone only just managing to maintain their modesty in a pair of matching monogrammed silk robes- hers a soft maroon, his a dazzling violet, of course. They're lounged comfortably over a pile of pillows and each other in what looks like an exceptionally posh hotel room.

Inanna flashes a charming grin at the camera. When he speaks, it's in a low and sultry voice that's almost too smooth to even sound real. What would it be like to hear it in person instead of over the cheap speakers of an imPort phone?]

Hello there. I suppose some of you might remember me from my last visit to this world. For those of you who don't my name is Inanna, and I'm sure more of you are familiar with my dear friend, Persephone. [He tilts the camera to get a better angle on her. Uncharacteristically, there’s no challenging stare from her. In fact, she doesn’t bother to look at the camera at all. The normally taunt features of her round face are relaxed into something wistful and almost sleepy, her fingers moving lazily along his neck.]

While I'm quite eager to meet everyone I haven't yet and to catch up with those I have; we have an announcement to make first, and you're all lucky enough to be the first to hear it. We're going to be putting on a show together at the end of this month. A double feature starring The Queens of Heaven and Hell! Come to vent all your fury—stay to find peace with it.

[ She finally does glance up and into the camera then, just the briefest look of her impossibly green eyes, then she sighs and closes them. ]

A katabasis. Intimate.

[OOC: Exact concert date TBD, but powers that will be in play for it are here and here]


Nov. 5th, 2016 07:12 pm
abandon_hope: (children's card games)
[personal profile] abandon_hope
[ The video shows an incredibly gangly young man in a black aviator's jacket and dark clothing. Black and skulls are all the rage for this kid, and he tops off the aesthetic by having a long, black sword in view of the camera, albeit set off to one side. He could be intimidating, perhaps ... if not for the array of miniatures also set in front of the camera. Nico is just a big ol' nerd.

He's slightly red when he addresses the camera; the color looks odd on his pallid cheeks. ]

My name's Nico di Angelo. [ A beat. His eyes track offscreen; he's clearly reading off a notecard of some kind. ] I'm a half-blood - or a demigod, whatever you want to call it. Son of Hades. [ Better to get that out of the way now before making this kind of request. ] I was here a while back, so if you met me before I'm the same guy. And ... um ...

[ Gods, just get on with it. Why is it so hard to ask such a simple question? ]

Does anyone want to get a roleplaying campaign together? I - er - I'm mostly familiar with Myths and Mazes, but I can build stuff for any kind of d20 based system. I like making up that kind of stuff. I've got three people so far but I can take up to three more.


Nov. 1st, 2016 08:20 am
stubble: (231)
[personal profile] stubble
[ It's late at night when Cullen makes the post, the time of night when people would probably text something like this. But typing on the phone is still too much of an unnatural struggle for him to default to it.

He sounds relatively normal. Maybe just a tiny bit tired. ]

What is it you do when you cannot sleep and there is no work to be done to better utilize the hours you spend awake?

[ There's a tiny pause. ]

I am no stranger to sleepless nights, yet in coming here, I've now naught to do with mine.
crapbearer: (facepalm and also a walkman)
[personal profile] crapbearer
[ It's so, so easy to put on a smile for his friends, and for social situations. He'd been doing it for well over a year. Yet as easy as it was to smile, with every day he did it, it was harder and harder to reach out and try to talk about just what he'd been dealing with.

But that's why they invented anonymous posting, right? ]

Does anyone have any tips for what to do if you want to stop feeling emotions?

Like, if I'm riddled with guilt for things I could never, ever hope to repent for, because they happened back home, is there a way we could surgically remove that guilt? You know, like an emotional tumor?

There's gotta be like a magic thing that can do that.
pummelgranite: (pull up in my monster automobile gangsta)
[personal profile] pummelgranite
[ She's recording from somewhere dark, sitting on a throne of bones and roots. ]

I want to apologize to my fans who attended my show last night. Something, or someone, interrupted my mass, and . . . well. Shit got fucked up. If you were there, you saw it.

It shouldn't have happened. My Hell should be your haven. I can't promise to you that I will keep you safe. But I can promise you that it won't happen again.

And I can promise you that because I'm gonna find out who's responsible, and I'm gonna rip them into tiny fucking pieces.
pummelgranite: (more than a superstar)
[personal profile] pummelgranite
[ WELL THE QUEEN OF THE MELODRAMATIC DAMNED IS AT IT AGAIN, lounging on a throne of brilliant autumn foliage and blooming squash vines and listen squash doesnt bloom in the fall thats why you even HAVE decorative gourds in time for winter but OK whatever.

It's all very well staged and impressive for a recording taken via selfie stick.

Important public service announcement, part one: if you're going to shorten my name, it's Ne, as in Ye, or Bey. . . . I guess NiNi might be OK too . . .

Second announcement: as always, Dorian Grey can eat shit.

Oh, right. Also, does anyone have any idea how the fuck to convert from an Attic to Modern calendar? Apparently I have a three day party coming up. Seems like a shame to miss it.

003; video

Oct. 17th, 2016 12:31 am
hardcorduroy: (maybe it's maybelline)
[personal profile] hardcorduroy
(the feed opens to a rather familiar cafe in heropa, one many of the local imports might find themselves familiar with. that's right, it's the lucky cat cafe, slowly amassing more and more autumn decorations. cute miniature jack-o-lanterns on the window sills, strings of brightly colored leaves hung above windows and the doorway. she's making sure to get as much of the cafe in her shot as possible, without disturbing the patrons in her cafe. she props her elbow up on the table chin in her hand with nothing short of a welcoming grin. she's wearing a rather unique black shirt, covered by her usual green flannel shirt and her hair tied back in an all too messy ponytail.) Sup dudes! So, a lot of you probably noticed a while ago that Miss Cass left. She was a great person, a legitimately cool adult, and I hardly say that about anyone above the age of twenty-five.

(she chuckles a bit, trying to give off the impression that it was a joke, that she doesn't consider all adults to be lame. anyone who knows her, of course, knows that she means that as a compliment.) Anyway, I basically inherited the cafe, I guess? Meet Wendy Corduroy, new boss of the Lucky Cat Cafe! Who says you need school to run a business?

(she gives off a confident "yeah!" along with a fist pump to the air. she's definitely confident enough in herself to be able to run a business like this, that much is sure. it's not arrogance, just assurance in herself to handle what's been set before her.) So down to business, I'm still just a teenager, so I'm not the best at what I'm doing. The cafe could definitely use a few extra hands around while I figure out what the heck I'm doing until I get the hang of this business owner gig. You got any questions, ask 'em here, or drop by to see what's up. Whatever's cool, guys.

(she's about to hang up, before remembering one important little tidbit that... actually makes the smile on her face waver. in fact, she grumbles to herself for a few seconds before letting out an annoyed huff. her expression is nothing short of an annoyed scowl.) And, okay, in honor of the season, and keeping with Miss Cass' wishes, yes, we have pumpkin spice drinks and other "autumn specials" (said with rather sarcastic air quotes.) being served. So all you screaming girls in tacky sweaters and Ugg boots can come over and get your corporate holiday fake vegetables in a cup. Because why get decent pumpkin pie when you can get cheap liquid form that tastes absolutely nothing like pumpkin. That's basically it from me, guys, hit me up. Wendy is out, peace.

(wendy, that is not how you run a business... oh well. regardless, wendy signs off cheerfully, with a peace sign and all. she'll get better at this boss thing. someday.)

((ooc: hey guys! so seeing as wendy is in charge of the cafe now, i'll be handling the ooc aspect of it from now on. if your character is interested in joining the team, pm me or hit me up at [plurk.com profile] autumnpastries))


Oct. 16th, 2016 08:09 pm
brushoff: (jesus fuck look at those eyes)
[personal profile] brushoff
[ Dorian's sitting down on a small, jet black armchair, tucked in the corner of an all too busy bedroom. There's a bookshelf stacked to the brim with books to the left and a medium sized oil painting hanging on the wall, a Romantic seascape with more emphasis on the clouds than the water, clouds painted in dark, stormy, gray brushstrokes. Dorian gives the camera a small nod, then starts to read from a book, in an even, measured tone, perfect for audiobooks. ]

"It was the strangest book that he had ever read. It seemed to him that in exquisite raiment, and to the delicate sound of flutes, the sins of the world were passing in dumb show before him. Things that he had dimly dreamed of were suddenly made real to him. Things of which he had never dreamed were gradually revealed." [ There's a pause, while Dorian flips the pages and continues reading. ]

"'I am so sorry, Harry,' he cried, 'but really it is entirely your fault. That book you sent me so fascinated me that I forgot how the time was going.' 'Yes, I thought you would like it,' replied his host, rising from his chair. 'I didn't say I liked it, Harry. I said it fascinated me. There is a great difference.'"

[ Dorian closes the book, as he looks to the camera. There's a hint of a melancholy tone in his voice as he continues—somebody's obviously been lost in memory. ] Words written by Oscar Wilde—today's his birthday, by the way. Wear a carnation and take some absinthe in his honor. But the words of the post aren't what I want you to think about: the content is.

Let's talk about books, network. What's your favorite book? Or perhaps your favorite author? And, if those are questions you simply can't answer, what's your favorite genre? And finally, has there ever been a book that so captivated you the way the one Oscar wrote about captivated me?


maskormenace: (Default)