“Wasn’t No Harm In Him. You’d Give Him A Flower, He’d Keep It Forever.”

giovannixrusso​:

Humanity came with a variety of weaknesses that supernatural beings intended to exploit, but it also provided what might be considered the greatest weapon of all: being mistakenly underestimated. What he lacked in witchy voodoo powers, he made up in precise intelligence, meticulous plotting, and his own brand of charm. “It most certainly has been. Hope you weren’t avoiding me after our little chat.” He did like the other man, for what it was worth. Call it an indescribable magnetism which drew Giovanni in, but he also had a job to be done. “I’m actually still curious about something. Has anyone come to show or sell you a candle lately? It wouldn’t be a mundane thing; kind of old and ostentatious.” 

“I’m too much a creature of habit to avoid anyone,” which was mostly true when in places that felt comfortable enough to not consistently be ready to run. That was a quality that Corinth had provided, even with the recent displays of unrest and painful occurrences, Silas had yet to think that he was time to move. On top of it all, he had worked diligently to get the brick and mortar operation functioning in the bay. “A candle—” eyebrows furrowing slightly. It wasn’t often that anyone actually sold him a candle on purpose. Typically they were found in old dresser drawers that hadn’t been cleaned up, locked wooden boxes that hadn’t been touched in years, and the incubus’s onyx irises locked onto Giovanni, “Got a little more detail than that? Maybe color, even what it could have been accompanied with?”

Hephaestus

Hephaestus: Are you particularly skilled at any crafts? If so, which?Painting, drawing, doll design, sculpture, furniture upscaling or creating, pottery, upholstery, just about any carpentry and carving.

i may not talk much. but i always listen.

excerpt from a story i’ll never write (2/?)  (via ofmymuses)

“You wore your gentleness so well.”

— six word story // hobnobbingwithhedgehogs (via just-six)

beau-zale‌:

Under those eyebags was probably a beautiful man who worked at the establishment, but at the moment he looked worse for wear than a lot of the souls he dragged around. Current events had really done a number on these people. Beau had to keep from clicking his tongue at the waste. Humming in thought, black lined eyes still looking around the place, he let out a soft “ah” at the sight of the display cabinet. “That, looking for that.” Flicking a black painted nail in the direction of the case, he strode towards it, immediately leaned down to peer at what it had to offer. “You get shit from all the old ass haunted houses, I imagine?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was just musing out loud as he eyed a few rings cushioned in the velvet tray.  Witch’s biting it and leaving behind whole jewelry boxes worth of treasures, that’s what he was in for.

“Mhm.”

Followed by a gentle head nod as he leaned against the shop counter, looking towards the direction of the man and the item he was pointing out, “Or new generations that find the item outdated and don’t understand it’s value.” Though, abandoned or condemned houses were kind of a hot spot for the incubus and the random treasures they could hold. Jewelry was particularly an easy sell, but a difficult find. Fake’s were all over the place and usually took a careful eye, a quality that had taken years for Silas to acquire but it was in the Kyun blood. Each piece within Knick Knack was handpicked, restored, and always of the highest grade. “Spessartine garnet, darkest red and extremely rare. I believe that one came out of a basement in Ostrava? —Kraków maybe? I spent a little time on the border and often forget, but I have the paperwork for authentication purposes,” tone a bit rough, followed by a tired grin as he grabbed for the keys to the cabinet and strode over to get the piece out.

I like observing people. I like looking at things.

Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out  (via slytherinwritess)

Soft Affection

Send in an icon for my muse to: 

🎀 Play with your muse’s hair

✋ brush fingers/hold hands

👉 Gently poke or prod yours

💐 give a gift

🎎 sit close enough to brush knees/lean against yours

🛌 take a nap with yours

🖐 tracing fingers against your muse’ skin or over a scar/other

🍫 quietly hand over a treat/food item

☺ stroke your muse’s cheek/face

🧥 be found wearing your muse’s sweater/coat/article of clothing

✨+ add your own

🐱 to reverse

🌟👀👑

🌟 …someone my muse trusts.

    “Ri has my whole trust forever.”

👀 …someone my muse likes, but doesn’t trust.

    “Safiye, especially with her recent help though I’m sure if she could find a way to curse me she would.” @safiyebasak

👑 …someone my muse is jealous of.

    “Fran for being just so confidently himself as a cubi.” @franciscoamore

kaanerdcgan​:

open starter taking place at acanthus mollis @corinthbaystarters

People were interesting most of the time. The way they moved about as if nothing was wrong with the world intrigued him. They were surely blinded by how charming the people that desperately wanted to take advantage of that were. His own boyfriend had been blinded, but he would never lump Elias in with the rest. No, he was one of a kind. Everyone else though? They were just naive. As he walked into the nearby flower shop that happened to be across the street from his funeral parlor, he looked around for a moment before turning to the nearest body. “What flowers do you think a child would want at their funeral. Mother says daisies, but that sounds pretty fucking stupid, doesn’t it?”

Most of the cubi that Silas knew only held some similar qualities to himself, which was fine given the differences between backgrounds and where everyone was from. All older than himself as the line of their kind seemed to diminish over time, making them more and more rare. That’s why he tried to make friends when he discovered they, too, had been changed or crossed the wrong god. “I suppose I understand the color choice— white, innocence and all that,” giving the mother some benefit of doubt, even if Kaan always saw the more cynical side of life, “Those camellia look nice or maybe the freesia?”