|You'd think she'd learn|
(Vriska Serket from the webcomic Homestuck)
Lest chance again escape youSarah calls, during your lunch break, and you can't get any information out of her in between the sobs and stumbling over words that got stuck in her throat. Five minutes later you run into Hawa – your boss – who tells you to just go already.Lest chance again escape you by SulZala
You take a cab.
The most startling thing is how small she looks, with the needles poking into her arm and the oxygen mask, strapped to the bed between sheets and cables and tubes, she heaves every breath and coughs and sputters and some more tears escape down the sides of her head.
The nurse, Nina, bright mind, could be a doctor if she wanted, says they washed out her eyes, the reddening should recede soon.
It's the lungs that are the problem. You can't clean lungs out that easily.
The doctor, Amir's son – Dariush, Dariush is his name – visibly pales when he spots you in the room, a flinch of his eyes betrays is intent, but he judges the distance to the door to be too great.
"What happened.", you dema
German GothicNo matter where you travel, there is an old castle or old monastery jutting out from between the trees up the hill, stones coated in moss, but still standing. Sometimes, when the moon is waning, or when it’s full, you feel a cold draft and hear singing.German Gothic by SulZala
This apple core has a name, and it’s not Griepsch. You do not know its name, but it’s not Griepsch.
The october festivities are jolly, so jolly. This is not bavaria. And neither is it october. It’s march and you are starting to be concerned. You haven’t eaten anything but pretzels in months.
Do not wear yellow near the canola field. Do not wear yellow near the canola fields. Do not wear yellow near the canola fields.
The graffiti on the walls changes daily, sometimes it grows, sometimes it recedes, sometimes you wake up to a whole new gigantic mural. Sometimes there are names. You think you recognize one as your neighbour’s, and a week later someone new moves in there.
If the maps are correct, the sub
ChanceThere is a bag of dice, wrapped in dark blue velvet cloth, that go from hand to hand, from dim taverns to a soldier's tent, aboard a merchant ship to a rich noble's house, from where they disappear one night and wander through back alley slums, clackering on muddy pavement, taking stops in children's games, until they're passed on. It is customary that the very last bet of the night are the dice. Whether you're down to your last shirt in the middle of winter, or won all the night's bets, whether you've collected the dice yesterday or have been carrying them with you in your bag for a month.Chance by SulZala
They are made of bone, sometimes, from iron and wood and starlight. Old and weathered, and sharp and new.
Sometimes it's a deck of cards instead, or a box of tiles, but you know when it's them. They tingle, like fine chain flowing over your fingertips, they're Chance weighing your soul, and choosing their next hands.
The sun is rising over the shivering sands, and Kattalin flows down the cart steps,
20-something agender, studying library & information science and computer science in berlin|
Mostly active on tumblr these days