#ngc6853

[ioracle]

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NESO MY LOVE!!! thank you thank you and also UNO REVERSE TO YOU!!

[ioracle]

𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴 . . . 𝙳𝙴𝙲𝚁𝚈𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙰𝙶𝙴 » 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 @ngc-6853 The two ticked read Pride and Prejudice    —    premiering tonight. It wasn't that Nova was nervous to ask her out. Nova wasn't nervous, Nova, merely, forgot how to speak when Barbara made it to the door. The tickets were waved before her face, a half-hesitant, half-humiliated, 'wanna go' and 'tonight' barely making it into human speech.

it was rare to hear a knock at the door. lucky, really, that she happened to be in residence at the place she was supposed to call home. the apartment was somewhere inbetween her two favourite haunts; the library and the clocktower. chosen for the location and for the ease of access. ground floor apartments aren't so common. after all, so many people need them for their pets - as one landlord had, so understandingly, put it. nevermind that most older buildings in gotham didn't have lifts and the ones that did often had maintenance troubles.

still, barbara's careful. she doesn't answer her door without knowing who waits on the other side. the grainy footage shows a familiar face, one that turns up her lips in a smile. ❝ hey, you. ❞ she greets, the door letting out a small groan as the hinges move. lips part to speak. to what do i owe this pleasure? but nova bets her to the post. smile only growing as she catches pieces of her words, putting together the puzzle of her visit. the tickets come into view, eyes focusing on the words printed on the paper. pride and prejudice. her favourite story with her favourite person, how could she say no? every part of her screams to say yes. it drowns out that voice at the back her mind that whispers poison.

❝ it's a date. ❞ heart beats faster. it causes flutters in her stomach. never normally is barbara so brave with matters of the heart, but nova makes her want to be. she swallows down the lump that dares to form in her throat. with it she banishes the insecurities that threaten to bubble to the surface. ❝ are you hungry? ❞ from the wall beside the door she grabs her coat and bag. ❝ i know this great italian place. ❞

[ioracle]

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this is so sweet and kind and actually made my day thank you thank you!!

[delicategods]

*˖ ⊹ — @ngc-6853 demands an answer from madame sylvia : 'You have been following me, haven't you?' Nova looked at death without realising who, what it was that she was looking at. 'Why?'

she doesn’t fret the fact that she’s been caught , for a shadow only goes so long before the light catches up to it. and so her countenance strings together a humored look ,  performing a segment of comedy only fate would laugh at.   she’d been after this  girl ,  THIS NOVA ( THE RED STAR OF THE ICE,) / for a few years now , always watching but never speaking to see just how she’d unravel. for  death does not take part in the game of killers, for free- will was promised to each life. but on their death she’d have her way , righting the wrongs they’d put upon the earth.    “ I THINK I MAY TELL YOU, BUT .. .”  she is teasing ,  testing what sits between them ,  because  this one presents differently.  as though maybe she wasn’t really from here.

 " i don't know if you'd believe me . " her lips purse , holding back a thought of laughter. " for in this skin i seem human , but inside i am death herself. " she turns her attention fully on the other . " and it is time you answered for what you've done. ." she is a few steps behind the other, hands on her shoulder to cement her in her in place. THERE WOULD BE NO RUNNING AWAY FROM DESTINY .

[delicategods]

Drop this sunflower🌻 into the inboxes of the blogs that make you happy! Let’s spread a little sunshine☀️.

thank you for this ! it was a needed boost of confidence and put a smile on my face 🥰 @ngc-6853 / I can’t wait till our thread gets going and the girls start being badasses .

[delicategods]

*˖ ⊹ —   she sits at the edge of existence.  a hand  on time watching life as though she were not the end of it .  intrigued by the cycle of emotions mortals  felt for transient items.   for sylvia is a sister to evolution , and thereon gives mortals progress . knowing that without death nothing can change . THEREON SHE TRIES TO FIND THE VALUE IN FLOWERS , AND DREAMS.  and so  it is not shame that leaves her mothering the joys  of man but the knowledge of their pain . of the loud feeling of their demise. of how it comes  tearing  at and dragging her out to shepherd them on.  and so here she basks in the sun , holding on to hope as her table is set with a prospect of a game .  if anything she wants to tend to stories , to give place to the everyman. and so when a distinct scent pass her by she calls out to her . 

“ would you (     @ngc-6853  )   like to play a game ?”  she is interested to see what this child would ask of her . maybe a longer life , a look into her future or would she be happy enough to let her tag along for any measure of time . 

[stormbrained]

Dora

nuh uh.

[riteofrobin]

— “ The blood doesn’t bother me. The silence after does. ”

[𝓦]hat a sanguinary beholding of the ethnologic being: a broken cheval glass on insatiable flesh, the cramoisy chassis of the accursed gospel. Is this the seeing of his marrow ? This is what it means to have the incardine vision of a macabre apologue, and to become its antithesis. [ The paladin of the morn, the mourn’s mirth ] There is a tempest baptizing 𝕲otham, and it is frore ; the desertion of the bask, to the bats’ communion. But the ( ℛobin ) dared the fell betwixt its pinion, claws unclad to the purgatorial now. Eyes of his haunt the harrowed earth, if only.

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽: CAPE CARMINE 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴: 01:37:49 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚂𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝚃𝙾: ███░░ GCPD’S ON THE WAY 𝙲𝙰𝚂𝚄𝙰𝙻𝚃𝙸𝙴𝚂: [ TO BE CONFIRMED ]

If only— [ BREATH.WAV ] ( 𝓐n outbreath; he hears the funeral psalm. )

𝚂𝚈𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙼 𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚁𝚈: 𝙳𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚂𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽? [　Y E S　]　　　 [　N O　] 𝚁𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙽𝙴𝚇𝚃: O R A C L E / / H A N D O F F P E N D I N G

The cabalistic laconism is for the mulish: ❛ Huh, ❜ a muted hum, and the tragedians find utterance for him. The theatrics on interval, then the coliseum outcries once again. Blue and red daub the walk below, and he does not bare the real ... [ The animus in his sinew ] Momentarily venerated by the one that effrays him the most, the absinthian appetite. ( ℋe, ) the forsaken ; this dereliction is gnawed to the bone. The ethos of being a hero.

❛ 'Ya know, every time we meet, you’ve got something to say. ❜ They start to bathe the demise beneath, and crows are starting to chant from afar. ❛ I hate that I get 'ya. I can’t even call it bull. ❜

❛ 'Ya caught me on a bad night, 'cause I’m starting to hate when we meet like this. ❜ [ @ngc-6853 ]