#❁; verse. 》 tbd.

[aregebidan]

head in hands in a t-shirt that says i ♡ narratives that criticize narrative i ♡ stories that resent being told

[sankta-alina-s]

@starlsssankt

Alina considered the coins in her pocket as she looked upon the bolts of fabric. Marina seemed to be in need of new clothing faster than she could keep up with. These would last through the summer, yet another batch would be needed for the winter.

Each coin earned from taking in washing was saved for her daughter's upkeep. Alina's pregnancy with Marina had been fully unexpected- realized after she'd crossed the Fold weeks after the Winter Fete- yet she couldn't imagine her life without her daughter. The little girl hadn't shown any signs of being Grisha just yet, which allowed for the mother and daughter to remain in their West Ravkan home for a while longer. Alina knew it was only a matter of time however, what with the girl's lineage to speak of.

She parted with some of her coins in favor of a measure of blue calico and a brown cotton that she hoped would withstand the wear and tear of a four year old. Said four year old was not too interested with her mother's selections and was instead taken with the spools of ribbon on display at the next stall.

Alina paused her conversation with the elderly woman behind the counter at the gentle tugging of her daughter on her hand.

"Do you want a ribbon, malyshka?" she asked, supposing that another coin could be spared for the trifle. Ever since laying eyes on her daughter, red-faced and wriggling in her arms after being born, Alina strove to do whatever possible for her. If a ribbon for her hair would bring a smile to the little girl's face, then Alina would do so gladly.

She spoke with the woman about trivial town gossip for a few moments while Marina chose her ribbon. Alina eventually turned to the display, intending to hurry Marina along, when she noticed the lack of a four year old by the ribbons. Icy panic flooded her upon not spotting her daughter.

"Marina?!" she called, wildly scanning the area. She dropped the yards of fabric on the stall counter as her daughter's name once more formed on her lips.

Relief flooded her upon spotting Marina in the midst of an animated conversation a few stalls over, unknowing of her mother's panic. The momentary relief was quickly eclipsed by utter horror as Alina recognized who it was that was talking to her daughter.

Her breath came short and fast while her body temperature dropped. She'd been so careful to avoid notice or attention these past few years. This town knew her as Irina, while the last had called her Darya. Alina had even limited her use of the Small Science, just summoning enough light every few weeks to keep herself healthy.

How had this happened?

"Marina!" she called sharply as she darted toward her daughter. She grabbed the girl and hefted her into her arms, not carrying that her hands were no longer free if needed to summon, as having her daughter close was all that she could focus on.

For the first time in four years, Alina found herself meeting the eyes of the Darkling.

[unforestalledreturn-a]

plotted starter for @hoshizorax

The dying sun took with it the last warmth of the day, one which these narrow, dirty alleys had not felt for hours now, if ever at all. The city was a sensory nightmare, choked with smog, one that Genesis found the only relief to be the blaring neon cursive above the building he had been searching for; Devil May Cry. On the phone, the woman he had spoken with, Noriko, he believed, had offered a consultation with his troublesome bounty. As he went to open the door, a loud, and rather brazen and thuggish looking man burst out in a hurry, cursing about debts, but almost looked like a dog whining with its tail tucked between its legs. Their shoulders collided, but the oaf did not stop until he was well on his way to making himself scarce. Genesis' eyes narrowed, interest piqued. Adjusting the inky black wrap cloak which sheen nearly glistened like feathers rather than fabric, he peered through the open doorway, curious, but cautious. "You'd think he had just seen a ghost." He spoke a curl of amusement tucked in the corner of his lips.

[feuerwizard]

Open Starter for all mutuals || Silly drunk Caleb inspired by this video

The potent effects of the many, many ales he had consumed throughout the evening were quite apparent in the deep, rosy flush that spread across Caleb's freckled cheeks, giving him a charmingly disheveled appearance. His ginger hair tousled and unkempt, evidence of a carefree state so unlike his usual brooding demeanor. With each slurred word, his thick accent became even more pronounced, a result of his lowered inhibitions. "You see," he explained passionately for what was likely the third or fourth tangent in the span of an hour, "it is all about the somatic components." His hand gestured wildly as he continued to ramble on, completely enthralled by his own thoughts and theories. "Magic is a lot like cats," Caleb trailed off, losing his line of thought very quickly, perhaps growing a bit distracted simply thinking of cats instead. "I’m… I’m not entirely sure where I was going with that, but it made perfect sense within my head."

[askfallenroyalty]

Ok I'm kinda low key in agony I'm so uncertain of what to do (aaaaaaaaaaa)

But anyway I want to take action. The more I think about it just making small changes lead to ripple effects and that's just gonna cause a total rewrite regardless. I see no way where I'm not just remaking everything at this point

So it's a reboot. I'm doing a reboot.

But at that point I'm thinking "should this still be a webcomic, would making it a visual novel justify remaking it more?"

Cause idk I just have this horrible gut feeling that people are gonna get maddy that I'm rebooting ""again"" but it was originally a redraaaaaw. It wasn't supposed to be a reboot originally but now it iiiiiis

Aaaaaaaaughhh

So either I just get over myself and reboot it or I make it a visual novel but I don't have a TEAM to make it I just got some friends helping with story and I'd feel bad asking help oh god why is everything painful to handle I'm dying insideee

[sintoknow]

starter call 😇 pick an archangel, or both.

[vanyashay]

━ OPEN STARTER

➥ He had been fiddling with the pen and paper all morning, tearing off pieces, tucking them into his pocket because littering and wasting paper were BAD manners. He'd make a use for it. Couldn't risk anyone with a half a decent brain finding it and stealing his work. And perhaps he'd find the answer to his mind's runaway thoughts somewhere in the scribbles and idle formulas scratched on paper later. Vanya wasn't very good at thinking when he was distracted. The person he had come to meet likely wouldn't have any comprehension of what he was thinking about, still, he couldn't risk the slight chance that they would understand and ask him about it. Much too complicated to explain or drum up some lies about. He sees a body come closer and he flips over the lined paper pad, looking sheepish while blue eyes are raised to meet the other. "I don't know. Don't ask."

[lietwice]

@jsbashirmd said: "i’m so happy to see you, but i take it something went terribly wrong if you’re here."

JULIAN'S VOICE ALMOST SURPRISES HIM. It shouldn't --- he is in the doctor's quarters, after all. Different to his quarters on DS9, but very Julian all the same. He's stood by the wardrobe, rifling through it for something warm, when Julian wakes. He's left Essan nestled against a chair arm in the other room after feeding him using Julian's replicator, so Garak faces Julian alone when he turns towards the bed.

ONE COULD SAY SOMETHING WENT TERRIBLY WRONG. Lots of things, actually. For one, Garak has accidentally adopted a child at the least convenient time possible. "Hello, Doctor." He's holding one of the thicker items of clothing from Julian's wardrobe. "I do apologise for the intrusion." It's so good to see him again. To see him asleep had been lovely enough, but to see him wide-eyed and blinking up at him... oh, he's as beautiful as Garak remembers. His dear doctor. He'd like to reach out for him now, take one warm human hand in his own, but he's not here for his own benefit. "You are... correct."

AT LEAST, TO SOME EXTENT. Rather than explaining verbally, he turns and makes his way back to the sofa, where he left Essan. Two empty plates --- both scraped clean by Garak on behalf of himself and the hungry child --- sit nearby on the table. A small Cardassian boy, perhaps four years old, is curled half-asleep on Julian's sofa. Like Garak, he looks less than healthy, though he additionally sports a feverish glassiness to his eyes, and has his little legs drawn up to his chest in what could be fear, pain, or discomfort. Garak wraps him in the jumper he's holding and lifts him into his arms. As soon as he's moved, Essan makes a small, upset-sounding noise, and presses his face into Garak's shoulder. "I'm sorry," Garak tells him softly as he turns to see whether Julian has followed him. "Doctor? I have a patient for you."

[stardstschlar]

@dragvnsovl // this

He hadn't expected to feel a tug on his arm, but when he had Jotaro had allowed himself to be pulled a couple feet back. A random stranger pulling him back to stop the Joestar from getting into a fight? It wasn't the first, wasn't the second and certainly would not be the last, either. Brows furrowing the raven haired male looked back to the commotion beforehand then looked back at the woman beside him and eventually tugged his arm away, "Should worry about yourself, y'know."

[leschanceux]

@hstoryhuh wanted a  random  text! -

[ text; alex ]; don't ask questions, just pick a number between one and ten.

[usyrps]

the l.otr brainrot is hitting hard

[aregebidan]

but to be real for one more second i think the silt verses is one of the most beautifully ended well completed narratives i’ve ever had the honor of hearing and i’m unutterably grateful to be in a world where i can grow up to the sound of stories like this. i was in high school when tsv was made available—i think i started listening halfway through the first season. over the three years in which it’s been a podcast it’s inspired so much of my art, directly or indirectly, and i hope it’s inspired me to become something better. these were the silt verses. marco. good night.

[recitedemise]

Late night thought, but you know how Gale is stupidly smart and has canonically proven he can learn to fluently speak complex languages (like Tirsu) in just 6 months? This ability translates to everything: new hobbies, skills, magic (things he hasn't already learned, at any rate), etc. And what I find fun is how, no, he doesn't play music routinely, but do you know how obnoxiously good he'd be at legitimately any instrument if he seriously tackled it?

Evening! I'm Professor Dekarios, and I welcome you all to The Higher Theories of Necromancy, a thrilling but no less challenging — and rewarding —seminar. My hobbies include reading, poetry, cooking, and very recently, tickling the ivories. Just last week, I'd managed to play Rush E to perfection in a single sitting as a way to pass the time. <3 Now, who next would like to introduce themselves?

[normaltothemax]

“M’fine. Why do you ask?” He’s facedown on the floor; sort of the definition of not fine.

[regnismemorias]

"Вот дерьмо-"

Glitch quickly stepped aside as a familiar man came barreling past her. She watched them fly out of the front door of the seedy dive bar, leaving a few heads to turn in his direction briefly before returning to nursing their drinks. Was that-? The young woman looked back at where he came from only to confirm her suspicions when her eyes met with another pair she recognized. To the chagrin of the bartender, she abandoned her apron & serving tray on the bar top, immediately approaching the band.

"You're Jez, right?" Glitch pointed over her shoulder at the front door. "And that was your drummer who flew out of here like a bat out of Hell?" She shook her head as if to rearrange her thoughts, her hand jutting out towards him. "Извини," she apologized. "Glitch. Big fan. Never thought I'd see you guys at this shit hole, like, ever." Her hand is at her hip when free, absentmindedly picking at her frayed corset.

"Is he, uh, coming back, or...?"

@amused-bouche

[immortalmuses]

@merriemarvels sent: “Promise me you’ll never lie to me.” - for Logan from Jubilee >:3c

ㅤㅤㅤLogan stills, the axe in his hand hanging inert at his side. For a long moment, the Canuck doesn't say anything, a complicated expression flickering across his face.

ㅤㅤㅤ"...That's a bad bet, kid." He finally replies, hefting the axe once more and taking aim at a cross section of trunk. "And you know it."

ㅤㅤㅤLogan grunts as he swings, splitting the wood into two neat pieces. (Sometimes his claws aren't the best tool for the job). "...Spent half my life lying to myself. How'm I supposed to never do it to you?"