Deitentric



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  1. Public Bookmark 11

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    “Could you play for me?” she asks one evening, catching him alone in one of the rooftop gardens. “Please. Like in the camp, remember? Just this one time.”

    He wants to say no, but — this feels different. He looks at her, pale in the dim light of the lanterns, and sees it immediately — the outline of the paint covering her face almost completely.

    “You’re dying.”

    She doesn’t deny it.

    Or: Maelle and Verso have a chat decades after defeating the Paintress.

    Language:
    English
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    1,760
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    64
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    11
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    22 Feb 2026

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    so what if you stabbed your half-sister bc she was too clingy while she sobbed about not being wanted and desperately wanted you to play piano for her but you were suicidal so you died instead ??

    yeah so um if so then you're verso dessendre congrats. beautiful fic.

  2. Public Bookmark 22

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    It’s her own chroma reaching out to her, sweet and cool, scented with smoke and sweat. Aline lifts her head. Verso stares back—her beautiful boy, caked in blood, white petals fluttering around his mangled form. He smiles. All the clumsy stitching across her heart—her desperate attempts to self-soothe, to heal, to pull herself back together—tear at the seams.

    “Do you recognize me?” Verso whispers. The weight of more than a century hangs off his shoulders. It does nothing to touch the childish longing in his pale eyes, or the feverish, desperate way he clutches at her.

    Always." Aline cups his cheek. She strokes her thumb over the scar marring his face, a lone imperfection worn so proudly. “Verso.”

    (Verso leaps free of the painting. After decades apart, he and Aline share a final conversation).

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    1,217
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    1/1
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    123
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    22
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    01 Feb 2026

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    somehow i forgot to bookmark this sooner but my goodness i cried. if there was a competition for moaning to myself whilst reading i would've won first second third and honorable mention already

  3. Public Bookmark 10

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    The Burn consumes. She’s in the manor, trapped, unable to yell for help as her lungs fill with smoke. She’s at the base of the Monolith, thrashing against the heat, Lune and Sciel’s cries loud in her ears, Verso’s arms tight around her shoulders.

    She’s on Sirène’s island, unable to move as the immolated Nevron’s death throes bring it hurtling back towards her, screeching, twisting in the embers, its hair and mask melted, dripping in fetid chunks—

    Revealing her own scarred face beneath.

    “No!”

    -//-

    In which an unpleasant dream leads to a late night conversation.

    Language:
    English
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    12
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    50
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    10
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    397

    26 Jan 2026

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    did you know that alicia post-canvas means very much to me and i am trying not to cry and and and OWIE this fic is like stubbing ur toe on a chair and losing your mind while sobbing on the floor clutching said toe

  4. Public Bookmark 8

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    Verso cannot tell a lie.

    Language:
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    20 Jan 2026

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    "just as maelle knows he prefers it." bam bam bam 33 nerf bullets to the face and what if i screamed like a baby

  5. Public Bookmark 20

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    Verso is lying on the stone floor, almost indistinguishable from the broken bodies around him. Monoco flies down to him from a balcony; his feet hit the floor as he returns to his usual gestral self.

    He thinks the landing was very graceful. Deserving of applause, even.

    Verso doesn’t even try to look at him, missing the whole performance, and this is even more frustrating.

    And… concerning.

    Or: Verso is lost on Sirène’s island. Thankfully, Monoco is always able to find him.

    Series
    Language:
    English
    Words:
    3,592
    Chapters:
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    Comments:
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    Kudos:
    140
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    20
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    13 Jan 2026

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    mmmmmmm whumptober is over but the whump lives on 🗣️🔥🔥 existential questions and dehydration rolled into one nice-sized burrito :3