#( verse v || modern.

[bushelofmuses]

@castle-of-glass From Here

"Understood. Sorry, it was just...a burning question and my curiosity is endless, unfortunately for everyone," she said, smiling sheepishly. Too curious for her own good most days. She was sure she drove her friends up a wall with all of the questions.

What? She liked to learn new things.

And a person made of glass? Gods, how could she not ask about it?

Wait, manners.

"I'm sorry. I didn't even...that was rude of me. I'm Myrna."

[windsfavored]

old  modernverse  was  ren  becoming  a  streamer  as  an  allegory  for  followers  of  a  social  media  personality  being  akin  to  followers  of  a  god  —  with  a  deconstruction  of  both  parasocial  relationships  and  relying  on  the  attention  of  anonymous  strangers  to  fulfill  one's  need  for  validation.  (  even  at  the  cost  of  personal  comfort,  privacy  and  reducing  oneself  to  a  product.  )

new  modernverse  is  just  ❝  mom  didn't  love  me  so  i  invested  in  bitcoin  ❞  with  a  side  of  that  awkward  moment  when  the  criminals  you  agree  to  work  for  turn  out  to  actually  be  criminals  doing  criminal  things  and  faking  your  own  death  is  easier  than  handing  in  a  resignation  notice.

[drachliebe]

been looking back at some older hc posts & i'm proooobably gonna update some things here . again . sorry , i'm currently this :

[estarion]

added to the list of bullshit things he must accomplish this week:

teach regulus how to read

no more caffeine for regulus

lobotomy for regulus

[prvtocol]

Rook Island Visit, ft. Ayam commission by @badtrigger

[xamassed]

⟬ @shrapnelsong / s.c ⟭

He had placed himself on the floor, legs folded and fingers giving the smallest but fondest scratches to the space between Cinnabun's ears. "Do rabbits need friends, or are they usually good on their own?" He may or may not have considered what it might be like if they had two rabbits.

[eritvita]

@petitsdieu

It's his first tour of that prophesized collaboration with the famed Hara of the Golden Light, and Roland's own band of his rag-tag group of the Rolling Stones aesthetic, and his is surprisingly nervous.

A glitter-sprinkled God of the Stage, an acolyte of the Theater, that trouncing Icon of beautific masculinity to wail and flaunt and to grind onstage a'fore shrieking fans, microphone stands and his sacred guitar held betwixt, he lounges in his hotel room, plucking away at chords both benign and terribly important: his clothes immaculate and held upon their hangers by the bathroom door, Roland borne onto his sweatpants and ratty sleepshirt with his hair loose and freshly combed, streaming past his shoulders.

A knock upon his door alerts him 'way from his sanctified headspace, and his is riddled with jitters; it plucks haphazardly upon his strings in a discordant sound, and he settles the acoustic down, and answers his door.

"Hara!" greets he boisterously, all winning teeth and freshly-scrubbed skin. "Merry evening to thee! Come in," welcomes he, offering her his space with a flourish of opened Palm.

[mage-of-black-robes]

a few cocotte ribbons for his hair

send my muse an outfit piece and they'll have to wear it | @runyou-clever-boy

The mage hummed contemplatively. It certainly wasn’t the worst thing he could be forced to wear, even if it did look a bit childish. The scarlet hue of the ribbons reminded him fondly of his old red robes, and consequently of the time before he ‘fell’ to the temptation of dark magic. Moments of levity with his friends in the midst of various adventures echoed in the back of his mind.

“I’ve never worn these before,” he admitted, “but I bet that I can make them work. Red goes well with silver, after all.” He smirked and summoned a couple of floating mirrors to help him see what was doing before setting about braiding the dainty ribbons into his hair. When he was done, he wound up with a small braid on either side of his head, both with delicate scarlet woven into them. They were conjoined at the back of his skull with a bow, then fused into one long plait that fell down his back, which was tied off with another small bow. The rest of his moonbright locks were left to flow freely behind the intricate display. Satisfied with his work, Raistlin banished the mirrors and turned to face the other. “Well? Have I lived up to your expectations, or do you have more frills to challenge me with?”

[goddessrisen]

     intrigue   flitted   across   the   witch's   youthful   visage,   a   dark   brow   quirked   in   silent   response   as   she   quietly   huffed.   no   one   smart   enough   dared   speak   to   her   in   such   a   way,   let   alone   think   that   she'd   heed   any   command   given.   dark   lashes   fluttered   as   she   studied   the   man   through   them,   head   canted   to   the   side.   plush   lips   pursed   as   she   considered   the   man,   silent   as   his   large   mass   prowled   across   the   room. 

     manicured   nails   tapped   a   silent   rhythm   against   the   plush   fabric   of   her   chair   as   she   considered   her   options.   truthfully,   there   was   little   the   man   could   do   to   hold   her   here   against   her   wishes,   yet   her   curiosity   silenced   any   thought   of   escape.   she'd   heard   the   stories,   well   acquainted   with   the   underworld   as   she   was,   &&   much   like   a   cat,   curiosity   led   her   down   a   dangerous   path.   molten   amber   glinted   with   amusement   as   that   piercing   gaze   turned   toward   her   petite   form,   painted   flesh   curled   into   a   teasing   smile   as   she   radiated   innocence.

  be ready to talk by the time i get to you. @goldenfists

     ❝   talking   is   not   the   problem,   darling.   i   can   talk   ad   nauseam,   but   i   doubt   that   is   why   i'm   here.   so   why   don't   you   ask   me   nicely   ??   i   might   be   able   to   talk   about   whatever   you   wish   if   you   do.   ❞   hyeon   leaned   forward,   body   lax   as   she   invaded   the   other's   space,   an   elegant   brow   raised   in   challenge.

DA Veilguard Prompts || accepting

[crosaidi]

“   You never think that the last time is the last time. You think there will be more. You think that you will have forever, but you don’t. ” @oathfcrged / a sanctuary for every sentiment

He’s  been  —— fortunate.  Life  hasn’t  exactly  handed  him  any  favors,  and  he’s  faced  plenty  of  problems,  but  he  hasn’t  lost.  Not  really.  Not  truly.  It’s  not  that  he  doesn’t  have  a  grasp  on  it  — he  deals  with  it  regularly  with  what  he  does  for  a  living,  and  is  well  acquainted  — but  it’s  not  personal,  and  so  maybe  he’s  been  lucky.  "  Thinkin’  every  time’s  the  last  time  would  drive  you  mad,  "  he  says,  voice  soft,  and  leans  in  to  kiss  him,  and  it’s  soft.  

The  cat  that  hangs  around  the  porch  — the  cat,  not  his  cat  and  certainly  not  his  pet,  even  though  he  leaves  it  food  and  water  and  it  has  a  little  bed  and  house  and  sleeps  inside  — winds  around  their  legs  from  where  they’re  seated  on  the  porch,  and  he  absently  scratches  it.  The  sun’s  winding  low,  and  they’ve  made  good  progress  today;  he’s  got  a  few  beers  on  the  porch.  

But  the  conversation  turned  a  little  quiet,  a  little  introspective,  and  he  listens.  He’s  good  at  it,  really,  letting  silence  fall  comfortably  where  it  needs  to  be  and  not  pushing  it.  "  But  no,  we  don’t  got  forever.  Hell,  sometimes  I’m  guilty  of  thinkin’  it.  Always  things  that  are  easier  to  do  tomorrow,  things  t’say  that  can  wait.  "  He  sighs,  taking  a  swallow.  "  But.  All  th’more  reason  to  make  of  it  what  you  can  while  y’can.  "    

[byanyan]

@grimesucker sent 🤳 + 5 for:

ㅤbyan's family (biological, adopted, & found); feat. sol, the boyfriend (@lee-sol); lena, the older sister (@chronal-anomaly); ardaka, the parental sibling figure (@apexulansis); kit, the (sort of but not technically) younger sister (@florafound); garrett, the vaguely guardian-esque figure (@gnarledbite); & dox, the mom (@grimesucker)

[estarion]

[  ALMOST KISS  ]  *  your muse leans closer to my muse almost like they’re trying to initiate a kiss, only to pull away in the last second. (modern)

They’re only friends. It’s been made abundantly clear on both sides. That doesn't stop Orihime’s babypink Converse from smudging the lines (if sliding into his trousered lap in a tennis skirt to pout about her misfortune could be called merely ‘smudging’). Doesn’t keep him from redrawing them a bit thinner, a bit more reluctantly, than before.

A friend can hold his friend’s waist for support. A friend can thread fingers through the hair of his friend, brush a rebellious ginger strand from her cheek, tuck it smoothly behind her ear. He can lean in and smirk and hold her gaze and remember the fading marks in between them at just the right time. As a friend.

“Sorry. That loose bit was driving me mad.” He presses back into leather recliner and sighs, false relief over the renewed state of her hair. Yet actual contentment that he did it, that she let him, that her warm fingers curl against his nape in reply. But he cannot be so easy. Refuses to be, in fact. Lips twist into a not-quite-pleased shape; he owes her an eyeroll, a bent brow, a grumble of unhappiness. “Continue, please.” He rocks the chair a little, cap-toe of his left burgundy oxford gently riding the coffee table’s edge. His empty hand grasps the armrest; the palm at her waist remains in place—for now. What he owes comes entwined next, eyes flicking softly ceilingward: “Your story about the most recent ‘worst date ever’…”

[lcveblossomed]

"That was a fantastic set." Rhea comments, a smile making her way over. She sees one of them struggling with a speaker taking it with ease. She starts to help them walk their stuff out the back door toward their van. "I am Rhea Royce- my husband owns the bar. He never bothers to see the talent I figure someone should. I'm happy I did you guys were fantastic."

@godforbidrp // rhea starter

[ssolessurvivor]

@bloodczar continued [x]

"Maybe not sorrow specifically, but pain. I think people who have some form of the same pain can recognize it in another."

[moonescent]

“Here you go. . “ Hinata’s voice is just above a whisper as she delicately places a squirming housefly (using tweezers, of course!) within the sticky jaws of the venus flytrap plant she was tending to.  “Lunch time!”

The plant slowly closes its jaws around its prey and a sense of pride swells within the young woman.  This carnivorous plant was nearly dead when she’d rescued it a few weeks ago from a hardware store.  Now it was thriving.  She couldn’t wait to show it off to the gardening club.  Gently, she returns the plant to the window sill in the science room. 

“Oh!” Pale eyes widen in surprise as she turns and notes the presence of another in the otherwise empty classroom. A young man, glossy brown hair tied back messily out of his face in a bun; Yuma Mukami ( @sadisticbloodlxst ). Another student. Had he just entered? Or had he been there the entire time and she’d simply been too focused to notice?  

Immediately she goes to apologize, despite having done nothing wrong.  Old habits die hard.  Hinata bows deeply. “Oh, umm, I’m sorry, I — I didn’t realize you were here. I was just checking on the plants in the window. . Umm, I think the science professor often forgets they’re here and. . “ She trails off.

[tsareviich]

@w4ntd : 💍 what you get for waking up in vegas || accepting.

he knew that last shot was a bad idea but he could hear flynn's voice in his hear, egging him on, almost daring him. they both knew his tolerance was a little higher but even he had limits. and he definitely reached that and then kept going. his head fucking hurt and he just wanted a coffee and maybe even to go back to sleep. and not exactly in that order. he turns over, noticing that he's not alone. not the worst thing that could happen. he blinks the sleep from his eyes, noticing that it looks.... suspiciously like flynn. a soft groan leaves him, realizing that he, once again, found someone that looks so fucking similar to flynn, it could be him. admittedly, he's ashamed with himself. he'd thought he'd gotten over the stupid crush he had on his best friend, but seems like he was wrong.

vasily ignores the headache for now. a problem for later. he needs to get this guy out before flynn comes to his door. that was not something he wanted to explain. mostly because he... didn't have an excuse. "hey buddy," he says, wacking his arm lightly to try to wake up. vasily looks around, noticing that the clothes thrown around the room are... very similar to the clothes he sort of remembers flynn wearing last night. now he was just being fucking delusional. there's no way. literally only in his fucking fantasies. he goes to hit him again, a flash of silver catching his eyes. oh no. oh no he isn't that fucking stupid is he? oh fuck. "what the fuck," he says, louder this time. oh flynn was going to kill him.