@verseless-carlton
I DONT KNOW IF THIS IS BETTER OR WORSE
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@verseless-carlton
I DONT KNOW IF THIS IS BETTER OR WORSE

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ootd
i’ve made so many new friends in college!! <3
and more..?
A Verse-less OC?
More likely than you think. Wanted to post something here, and nothing better like what was written in my notes for a long while. How about a little introduction to change things up a bit?
(Picrew used for this design: https://picrew.me/image_maker/4893 )
"I felt it.
The heavy hand's impact onto my cheek, making my frail body jerk violently as I innevitably smash against the wall with my back. The temple certainly made it seem like it was going to demolished from such a vicious trashing. The pain I endured at that moment made my body freeze, blood began to dribble from my mouth and my anguished groans I could not contain. On my knees, I stubbornly attempted to stand up, deluding myself that it wasn't over. But the eyes which set on me knew that I was too mangled and broken to stand up. The time we spent fighting was already long overdue, and I never made any progress. It was pitiful. There was no fun on a toy you can't play with. One which would crumble with a mere touch. Just like those times he manipulated my innocent, foolish self, he was in full control of the situation. The armor he wore was something I was supposed to protect. A sacred treasure with an immeasurable power which no Priestress should be handing out so freely. I botched this opportunity, this honor, just to ruin everything with a few loving words. Pathetic. Foolish. Unworthy. As much as he ridiculed me, I could not stop condemning myself. How could I not see it? He had me on his palm and used me to his whim! The fireworks which once made my heart feel a burning sensation of happiness ignite into scorching flames of sorrow to this day... Eventually, I heard another voice coming from the room, only filling a wounded heart like mine with guilt. Shocked, I watched one of us - Another Priesteess like me - come to face the thief. She didn't have to step in to save me, but to perform this miracle, to stop this madman wearing the one thing which brings mortals closer to the power of gods, she did the only thing she could do. That voice sang a beautiful melody which engulfed the world around us with a tint of her light, her aura, that began to dissappear completely from what I could sense at that moment. Almost as if she ceased to exist, the harmony would be the only sound we could hear. When the fellow Arpiah approached the man, the melody was about to finish. He was unnable to move, as the woman gave him a gentle smile, before wounds would start to open and a crimson liquid began to pour out from both of them. In a blink, a violent burst would make the room shake. Next thing I know, I find myself within the rubble of an entire place crumbled apart.
My false lover would be then in a crater, lifeless, and with the armor I swore to protect torn apart into pieces. The maiden, meanwhile, collapsed onto the ground, giving her last breaths as a pool of red would begin to form beneath her. And yet despite all of this, the woman remained with a smile...
To this day I question if I could've done something. And only then it would all settle in, only then I would wind up truly alone. One to be the unjust survivor of this crisis. One to be scolded for my insurrection. One to carry the burden of repairing the Celestial Armor. If I payed attention to the teachings of the felled Priestess, perhaps I would've learnt to use this devastating move, unique to our race. But that would mean I would have to throw my life away. The Arpiah's very own Tremor Melody is a requiem of death, so they say. For the first time, I saw what they ment. Every drop of spiritual essence exhausted to force the user and their enemy to be ripped apart from within as that aura bursts violently.
I had no interest in selfless sacrifices. I didn't intend to leave my duties to no one - There won't be no one to trust. I am going to show them all that I've learned my lesson. I am out for myself and myself only. I am a Priestress, I can act like one, I can take care of myself, and most certainly, I won't fall for the same trick twice! I have a mission. One that I must complete. There's no other use for a broken heart like mine..."
Name: Meteora
One of the youthful Priestress who were chosen to protect the coveted treasure of the island of Arpiah, the Celestial Armor, said to constantly replenish the spiritual energy of the wielder as well as increase their strength to that of a deity's reach.
Normally, the high and mighty Meteora would pride herself on meeting the expectations as its caretaker. However, the maiden had fallen in love helplessly with a manipulative thief who sought to steal said relic. Miracolously, they were interrupted before he took the armor away from the island, but the events led to it's complete destruction, and now Meteora, crushed by the experience and taking responsability for allowing this to happen, must seek the means to repairing it as well as the sweeter piece of her heart she refuses to show beneath her bitterness.
Hey! Hope you’re doing well. Would you be interested in writing a drabble with hurt/sick Peter showing up at Steve and Bucky’s apartment for help during a patrol because it was closer than home or the tower? Thanks either way!
This is a strange mix of Spiderverse and Heroverse and Verseless, where I suppose Steve and Bucky are living somewhere in NYC off campus during the Avengers Tower days. Timeline is pre/during spdmn:hoco.
____________________
Peter barely stops himself from doubling over the barrier on the side of the top floor of the parking garage and vomiting down the side of the structure. But it’s a very close call. Instead he manages to shove his mask up over his mouth and nose and clamber for the trash can beside the elevators.
The mask crinkles around his eyes, and for a moment he’s blind as bile and chunks of sour whatever push up through the back of his throat, but he grips the edges of the bin and eventually gets his bearings. The most important ones being that there are no threats lurking in the hospital’s main garage, save a few expired plates. And those aren’t trudging through the fever and flu to web notes to windshields.
“I gotta get out of here,” Peter mumbles, wiping his mouth and pulling his mask back down where it belongs. He swallows hard and sighs, then jumps up onto the ledge he almost doubled over a moment before, sets his shoulders, and webs off into the night.
Peter only gets about six blocks of lamppost to lamppost before his stomach flips again, and he knows he has to find solid ground, and fast. He lets go of the web he’s holding, then stumbles a few steps as his feet skid across the asphalt of the street. He glances around, unsure of where exactly he is. He doesn’t know the city as well from this angle as he does from up high. It’s as if his internal Google maps has shifted to street view, and it does another number on his stomach as well as his head.
Peter gulps down bile, wincing at the taste. He bounces on the balls of his feet, looking from a neon Chinese food sign to a block of subdued apartments. His eyes latch onto an American flag draped over one of the balconies, and suddenly he’s hit with a sense of familiarity. He does know where he is after all.
Peter takes a breath, vaults the fence, and begins to scurry up the edge of the building on his fingers and toes. When he gets to the balcony with the flag, he somersaults over the railing, then holds his stomach, groaning as soon as he lands on his knees. He quickly yanks his mask up again, then all the way off to hang his head over the rim of a potted plant. A weak stream of bile comes up just as the sliding door to the apartment starts to open.
“KId?” a rough voice asks. “What’re you doing--oh.”
A strong hand grabs him by the back of his suit and pulls him to his feet. “Here. Bathroom’ll be more comfortable.”
“Ok,” Peter gasps.
Bucky wraps his arm around Peter’s waist and steers him into the apartment. “Steve.” He nods toward the blonde man sitting on the couch. “Sick kid’s more your territory than mine.”
“Bathroom’s good,” Steve says, nodding. He jumps up and starts removing couch cushions. “I’ll get the pull-out ready for him.”
“Hey, I’ll just go home,” Peter says, gurgling slightly as he fights through a retch. “I mean, after--”
“Naw.” Bucky pushes him into the bathroom and closes the door to a crack. “You’ll stay till we say so.”
“Maybe a little softer?” Peter hears Steve suggest from down the hall. “You’ll stay as long as you like, Peter,” he calls. “Until you feel well enough to go home.”
Peter can’t fight the nausea anymore. He sinks to his knees and buries his head in the crook of his arm agains the toilet seat. “Alright,” he murmurs. “Sounds good. Thank you, I mean.”
“‘S no problem, kid,”Bucky replies. “’S what we’re here for, after all.”

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“I love you” is three words and an earthquake.
That was what Prompto used to think. That the word part is... easy, in comparison. But not, really, because then there’s the responsibility of breaking the earth apart around you. Chasms open, things rise and fall and move away from each other, then you’re left to bridge the gaps. If you can.
Maybe it was the force of the love itself, or the confession. The other person hearing it, and the expectations carving new landscapes. Plates shifted, lava flowed, and the world changed.
Feeling love was okay. But he never, ever, said the words. Leaving the land rolling and unbroken, easy to traverse for everyone. It was a simple thing to hold his tongue and just feel, silently and alone, and be content with that.
Until it wasn’t. Until he didn’t. Until the words slipped from him in a way that couldn’t be played off and he pulled back with wide eyes, waiting for the ground to shake and swell and open up right in front of him, taking the world he’d built with it, separated from him forever by uncrossable canyons.
What he hadn’t counted on was hearing those words in return. How the same feelings and the same words from the other side could cease disaster before it began. No bridges to build. No tightropes over bottomless pits to walk.
“I love you” became three words and endlessly stretching landscape.
♒: to push them into a pool/ water surface
“Nero what the fu– “ His extremely rare cursing was cut off once V hit the water, liquid deciding that no, V wasn’t allowed to have a foul mouth, and therefore it must gag him before the full word can slip. It took a few seconds for V to come back up from the waters - while his sleeveless leather jacket was nice and fashionable, it wasn’t exactly swimming outfit, was it? V resurfaced, looking like a drowned cat with the way his hair plastered to his face. He shot an icy glare at his companion, all while trying to swim back to the water’s edge.
In a moment of pure immaturity, once V made it close to where Nero was, he lunged, making damn sure he made a big enough splash to get Nero’s own clothes soaked, and maybe drag him in as well!
(Continuation from HERE)
*She’d scan the area with her blind eye’s, eventually locking on the the general area where the goddess currently sat. Her kind smile would fall on, well, blind eyes and didn’t change the child's mood in the slightest.*
*She wouldn’t respond to the comment about Cir’s brother. It... it did relax her a little bit. After all someone waiting for their sibling probably wouldn’t hurt her... right?*
“I... I guess you can... I cant really stop you from asking. What do you want to know? I dont really know where I am... So I cant answer anything about that.”
@celestial-s-feathers