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GODDESS: impuriitate

              SULTRY SIMPER continues to play on a mouth that incited riots,  lips curving in a most delicious manner.  intoxicating rarity of a chuckle flees war; reaching out to grip the flimsy fabric of melody’s top.   ‘   you don’t like games, hm? —i thought you wanted to play, melody?   ’   husked intonation is pressed to the lobe of her lover’s ear; muscled frame taut to lean figure.  

 ‘  i’m HERE— now what?  ’

              GAMES WERE ONLY fun when you won. A reason why the golden goddess, carved from flawless marble, enjoyed them so thoroughly. War ALWAYS won in the end. A shiver ripped through svelte limbs, shaken by a desire to do anything except embarrass herself. Black tipped fingers pressed hard against taut muscles, a purr on her lips. “ I want you. Just all of you. ”

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           “ Some would ask, how could a perfect God create a universe filled with so much that is evil. They have missed a greater conundrum: why would a perfect God create a universe at all? ”

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GODDESS: impuriitate

                 PLAYFUL  AMUSEMENT  CONTINUES  to tug at typically morose expression. glistening honeyed hues fixated on the seraphic beauty taking tentative steps toward her person; inked digits placed firmly to cocked hip. such a cruel taunt could only be extended so far before giving in.    ❝   yeah, why wouldn’t we? —I like seeing how far I can push you before you just pounce on me.   ❞  p ausing thoughtfully, cheshire simper adorning those same lush borders.    ❝   well, come on then. come get me!   ❞

            EMERALD EYES SPARKLE, bemused but unwilling to jump right in. There is defined muscles and a hardened body she knows she cannot win against ( but will enjoy the press of it against hers ). “ And what if I choose not to pounce? ” bottom lip juts out, defiant and hopeless. The witch will pounce, this isn’t a game she wins. It’s only a matter of time until pride is swallowed and she jumps. “ Riya, ” she whines with another step closer. “ Come. Here. ”

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between studying for exams and hanging out on my wanda blog, i haven’t been around much. i’m going to collect drafts and try and get a bunch done and queue some stuff too!!

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We sip the wind through lips of lust And out it comes, warm wisps of love…

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I have existed in solitude — it has its seat in my body… it is more alive than my own sorrowful thoughts,

more alive than the shadow

which hangs on me like a dress

                                                     poem | written by abby

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Matthew Daddario by Riccardo Vimercati

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QUEEN: culebraqueen

      “i hope that they were at least entertaining.” santánico smiles now, pearly whites bared for a moment before her head tilts, full lips falling back into place. bad ass. she hadn’t expected that. “i wouldn’t say that,” she starts, though her spirits are mildly elevated by the witch’s comment. “everything i’ve ever done was necessary for survival.” though mostly for herself and for piece of mind over anything else. “just like the two of you.”

        HER HEAD INCLINES, the stories they had been told seemed WILD compared to the controlled woman before them. “ They were certainly something but stories always are meant to be outlandish. ” She disagrees with a shake of dark hair. Both witches had spent a long time fighting but without much success, Santanico was something MORE.  “ And that’s what makes it admirable. ” And bad ass. A survivor can always appreciate another survivor. “ Not many people are willing to fight for survival and freedom. ”

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Decided I’m going to dress like a girl for once this summer 💁🏻💅🏻💕👗👛👙

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Why is “pretty boy” considered an insult like call me a pretty boy Call me a pretty boy right now I want to be the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen

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STRANGER: eyesxfsteel

“ I’ll take crazy ”  In a swift flick, VICES exposed where no shame laid upon tundra kissed features ( glacial & yet poignant canvas, HAUNTING from pressed scarlet petals to sharp cheekbones ) , wrists free but remaining PRISONERS from broken metal. Seemingly an accessory at first glance, in truth the object of a heart LEAD by spite. Venom & dulcet liquor to the WAR fed. “ Wanna call me something else or are you gonna help me get these off my wrists now? I was making it a choice to sound polite but uh, that fucking stings. ”  

              A CREASE APPEARED between sculpted dark brows. His sister was far better suited for this — whatever this situation was. He was impatient by nature, ready to save his OWN skin but not another’s.  “ I’m sorry, I don’t carry around tools to break out of handcuffs. They’d weigh my jeans down and showing your underwear is so passe. ”  He said with a mild tone of disinterest. Eyes flickered to the delicate wrists were being rubbed RAW and red by the crude metal. A sigh followed by a frown, what would Melody do?  “ What do you need to get out of them? ”

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STRANGER: seamatriarch

The lightest of chuckles, a GIFT truly. For many had come to an halt at such DIVINE occurrence. “Particular choice of assembled profanity, I’ll take it! Although I can deduce that your lack of passion is an equivalent to your level of irritation, yes?”

           THE WOMAN IS STRANGE but then again, so is he. Shoulders relax as arms cross over his chest though his brow remains furrowed, confused by the woman before him. “ No, not irritation. Confusion mostly,” he admits. “ I half expect an old lady to slap me for swearing. ”

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WEIRDO: ghoulardii

“ dead-ish, “ shoulders shrug. HIS BODY IS COLD, he has no heartbeat. blood is thick, coagulated. other than that he functions similarly to a living person– but he just quite isn’t. large hand takes the other’s, he brings it up for CLOSE INSPECTION. a little smirk begins to pull at his lips. long tongue drags along the boy’s PALM, tongue stopping just before his wrist. “ …hm, “

     THE SHOCK of icy tongue jolts him into stillness. Head cants, watching the slick tongue drag along black stained veins with confusion and curiosity. Even the decay, set deep in his bones, doesn’t know what to do so it sits, dormant and as still as his limbs were. “ Uh? Can... can I help you with something? ” 

     The intimate touch is strange, he fights not to clench his fist or flinch away. “ That was strangely intimate. ”

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CUSTOMER: gargyld

he can’t help as wandering fingertips trace over the soft fibers of a ravens feather, thumping over the spine of books lined on a bookshelf, and the smooth edges of pointed dazzling jewels and gems. he’s captivated by the shop, hasn’t come across a magic shop this good in a long time and he’s not about to pass up the opportunity to put his hands on EVERYTHING. long fingers pull a book out of its place, tipping it close to him as he allows it to fall into his open palm. he lets it tip open to a random page, catching the other side with his spare hand as eyes examine a photo of the animated dissection of a frog. its then when he hears a voice, had forgotten he wasn’t alone in the shop up until that point and his skin jumps with a start.

looking for something to PURCHASE, no. michael didn’t have a dime on him, though he had gotten fairly good at slipping books and trinkets under his jacket or in his pockets - had a growing collecting of his own bookshelf. thin caramel rose lips spread in a closed mouth smile, shaking his head sweetly. something about people being involved in MAGIC seemed to make them grouchy. “ always open to suggestions. “ a hand stretches out, and this time instead of the soft pad of his thumb its the back of his nail clicking along the spines of the books as he walks closer the the boy at the counter. LITTLE BRAT he was, though it was only in his nature.

             THE AISLES ARE TIGHTLY packed, lined with trinkets that pertain little value. It’s a tourist trap really, lure them in with a sense of magic, they become amazed by the strange things; animal bones and musty old books. Incense and candles are the biggest sellers, sometimes crystals are bought and used as paper weights. The store is something else for those who posses magic and know where to look. Amongst the dusty shelves there is more, hidden for magic uses to find it. Luca pegs the man as neither, not a tourist nor is he a witch. Dark eyes watch on with a bored expression as the customer touches every item with curiosity. 

Only when he speaks up does Luca truly show any interest, gazing upon the boy. Something strikes him as too sweet, like he is trying a little too hard. “ You could buy a candle? ” It’s a lame suggestion but he’s not all that interested in pandering to someone who likely won’t buy anything. It wasn’t his store and it didn’t rely on the sales on walk ins. Witches came for special items, none of which were open to the public. “ Or I’m sure I can find you a nice wind chime somewhere in the back. ” Palms press against the glass counter top, fingers tapping restlessly as he watches on now, the book forgotten. “ Unless you’re into magic, this store is kinda useless to you. ”

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If you’re not happy with what you’re doing, do anything to change what you’re doing. ▬ Matthew Daddario

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SORROW WAITED. SORROW WON.  //  HAMLET. 20. EST. 15 MAY 2016.