Not all is as it seems...

So I heard it was Munday.

Mon, 20 May 2013 18:55:00 -0400

Oh, god.

xkit-extension: It is final! Congrats on both companies, and...

Mon, 20 May 2013 09:20:57 -0400

xkit-extension:

It is final! Congrats on both companies, and here’s to hoping that Yahoo will not change Tumblr’s stance on extensions.

From the Ashes

Sat, 18 May 2013 13:16:55 -0400

dauntlessgrace:

He knows better than to be snapping and snarling like some wounded animal, scarred Grace or no. Common decency was not robbed of him in the ritual. He hesitates, an apology settling upon his tongue as Daithi turns away from him. But he does not speak it.

It is too soon. The anger and grief still too near for him. He will make amends when he feels able. For now, his limbs ache and his throat is raw; his Grace throbs with its violation and he feels ill.

He settles upon the mattress, exhaling steadily. Unseen wings trail from the edge of the bedding, stretching out in their discomfort. He does not notice that they brush against the partitions, the thin divider lurching beneath the press of feathered appendages.

He is too glad for the moment in which he might rest.

Unfortunately for the angel, it’s only a moment.

Daithi startles as the main door hisses open, freezing in the act of pulling the covers back on his bed. In stride three beings clad in white: a lithe woman with dark blonde hair twisted into a bun, a tall man whose leathery wings whisper along the floor, and an impossibly large, hairy beast—a minotaur, by the looks of him—whom has to bend nearly at the waist to fit through the portal.

Immediately, all three sets of eyes fall on Daithi, and he blanches, pressing his back up against the wall. The woman makes her way toward Castiel’s side of the room and stands between the angel and the end of the partition, while the man and the minotaur approach Daithi’s side. There’s a brief struggle as Daithi attempts to use his magic against them, but it dies before it can touch them, shriveling his blade-like vines and swallowing his fire. In the end—though he knows it’s fruitless—he resorts to physical struggle, grunting and writhing in the iron-hard grip of the minotaur as his large, meaty hand closes around Daithi’s waist.

The Sidhe chokes on the air he tries to pull in as he’s lifted like a rag doll, a hoarse shout of distress escaping his lips as the minotaur manhandles him toward the door.

munisthemuse: Her embarrassment soon fades into awe at watching the God as he worked with the food....

Sat, 18 May 2013 10:26:43 -0400

munisthemuse:

Her embarrassment soon fades into awe at watching the God as he worked with the food. He clearly was no amateur at this and she would be ignorant to believe so. Admiration slowly made its way through her, and she amused herself with the thought that it was like being in a cooking show. What differed was this time it didn’t just make her hungry, it wowed her.

“Heh.” She replied. “I wanted to learn to cook. My dad was always the chef of our family. I didn’t really appreciate how well of a cook he was until I was older. He loves it. My mom can cook, too, but my dad prefers doing it. He’s always looking into recipes from our home country, and taking inspiration from others. He usually incorporates Asian into his dishes.” A grin crept on her face. “I always told him he should open his own restaurant or something, but he likes the idea of it being casual and not a business. It’s better, I guess. I wouldn’t want him stressing out.” Her shoulders raised into a casual shrug.

“I never really caught onto it. My craft is more on paper and computer. Though I do better sketching than I ever would anywhere else.” A pause when a question came to mind and her cheeks, again, were flushed.

“…Do you wanna see? Erm, my.. sketches, that is.”

It takes a moment for this to process, for Eros, so intent is he on cooking and calculating what he’d need to do. A few more ingredients later, he’s wrist-deep in meat, plucking out a small portion and rolling it in his palm. The orb stays intact, and he grins at the girl, eyes aglow. “Of course. And there’s no shame in not being talented in things. Even gods have things they’re not good at. I, for one, am rubbish at sewing.” Stepping to the sink, he washes his hands clean, looking over his shoulder at her. “If you gave me a torn shirt, I’d skewer it in all of the wrong places until it’s a monstrosity.”

Shaking out his hands, Eros comes back to the counter to wipe it down and start peeling tomatoes. “I’ve also never been terribly comfortable on horseback.”

munisthemuse: “What?” Still flustered, the question registered differently in her head and she...

Tue, 14 May 2013 08:54:58 -0400

munisthemuse:

“What?” Still flustered, the question registered differently in her head and she stares blankly at him. She was about to snap when she remembered they were cooking and not doing anything else. Cheeks reddened again, and she cleared her throat. “…erm, it doesn’t.. really matter to me, as long as I can eat it.”

Yeah, that sounds even better.

The god takes great care not to look at the girl on the kitchen counter again, going through each ingredient and mincing it finely. Onions, garlic, basil, raisins, sweet peppers—everything had been chosen to give the meat a specific taste. Eros releases the seal on a small jar of homemade marinara, adding that and an egg to the mixture before finally taking the meat from the microwave and setting it beside the mixing bowl. He adds the meat in thirds, carefully folding in the ingredients until all of the meat is in and he’s wrist-deep in the mixture, skilled hands folding and lightly kneading the ingredients into the meat.

“I used to do this with my mother when I was a boy,” the god suddenly says, moving to wash his hands before he plucks up several pieces of bread he’d brought and warming them in his hands until it’s hard. This, he crumbles into the meat mixture, hoping to absorb some of the moisture to be able to work the meat into spheres that won’t fall apart. “It used to be just us, but then my brothers came along and, oh, that kitchen was a mess by the time we got these in the oven.”

Reblog if you have this:

Fri, 10 May 2013 15:18:44 -0400

quicksilvertrion:

…and are willing to share it with people that want to get to know you

Dress Shopping

Fri, 10 May 2013 14:19:00 -0400

“Remind me again why we’re here?” asks Eros, squinting into a row of white that bled into white.

“We’re shopping for a wedding dress for your daughter,” Hermes patiently replies, frowning at a dress and putting it back on the rack.

“Right.” An indeterminable amount of time later—five minutes, really, but Hermes doesn’t dare bring that up—Eros huffs and mutters, “I don’t know why the dress is so important. He’s just going to rip it off of her later.”

Hermes snorts. “Yes, dear, but we want him to rip it off out of passion, not disgust for the thing.”

Grunt.

“Look at it this way, darling; at least it isn’t like it was before. Remember when weddings lasted three days?”

That coaxes an almost sobbing sort of laugh from Eros. “Don’t remind me. The sacrifices, the near enslavement of those girls—”

“—that one piper that always piped out of tune,” Hermes wistfully tacks on.

Eros cringes, looking between two dresses that looked painfully similar. “Wasn’t that always Apollodoros? Whatever happened to him?”

“Apollo was so offended by his existence that he riddled him with arrows.”

“Ah, right. Poor thing.”

“Mm,” says the God of Travel as he flicks through several clicking coat hangers. “It’s a shame his mouth wasn’t skilled in all areas.”

Eros cackles, “Hermes!”

“What? The man had pretty lips.”

“I’d always wondered why you moped after he disappeared.”

“So the man was shit at playing the pipe. Didn’t mean Apollo had to go and turn him into a pincushion.”

“Could have been worse. Could you imagine if he’d been named something like Diogenes? Hera would have turned him into a smear.”

“Small mercies.”

whistlewhileeyework: Stav Strashko. O. M. G. /faints/ He is...

Fri, 10 May 2013 07:59:49 -0400

whistlewhileeyework:

Stav Strashko. O. M. G. /faints/ He is beautiful. ^\^

Thank you princekilljoy for showing me himmmmmm! :3

Photo

Fri, 10 May 2013 07:55:42 -0400

Photo

Fri, 10 May 2013 07:48:04 -0400

Wonderful start to my morning.

Fri, 10 May 2013 07:35:19 -0400

Cat kicked me in the face to wake me up, and then I somehow managed to halfway rip my nail off in the kitchen.

Somebody save me from myself.

androfeminine: Luiss San-Murguia

Thu, 09 May 2013 19:33:13 -0400

androfeminine:

Luiss San-Murguia

androfeminine: Luiss San-Murguia

Thu, 09 May 2013 19:32:47 -0400

androfeminine:

Luiss San-Murguia

This is where I'd express my heartfelt apologies for the FC spam

Thu, 09 May 2013 19:31:12 -0400

IF I HAD ANY.

hardboiler: Jacey Elthalion for Reserved FW 2011/2012

Thu, 09 May 2013 19:25:09 -0400

hardboiler:

Jacey Elthalion for Reserved FW 2011/2012

Photo

Thu, 09 May 2013 19:23:01 -0400

Photo

Thu, 09 May 2013 19:18:33 -0400

salt-and-feathers: Kiva skipped over, peering curiously at the dough. “Is… That what makes bread?”...

Thu, 09 May 2013 19:12:44 -0400

salt-and-feathers:

Kiva skipped over, peering curiously at the dough.

“Is… That what makes bread?” She sniffed at it, curiously, and then turned away as she sneezed, some of the flour still hanging in the air, and laughed, turning back to the counter, standing on tiptoes to see, and then smiling up at Hestia.

“Steen eiya sue,” the goddesses say in unison, Aphrodite blowing a kiss toward Kiva. Hestia strokes the girl’s hair, saying, “This is what all of the ingredients look like after they’ve been combined, yes. Can you eat?”

“Only alcohol,” says Aphrodite, sighing at the bowl of strawberries. “It’s a shame, really. There’s so much you’re missing, little dove.”

Hestia frowns, cupping Kiva’s cheek. “Then we won’t eat in front of you, will we? That would be rude.”

munisthemuse: “Ah—” She perked slightly, feeling guilty suddenly. “N—No, you—er—-I—” But there was...

Wed, 08 May 2013 10:18:20 -0400

munisthemuse:

“Ah—” She perked slightly, feeling guilty suddenly. “N—No, you—er—-I—” But there was no denying she hadn’t been used to such close contact from a man, even more so from a God.

She cleared her throat awkwardly and averted her gaze down to her lap again.

“It’s… It’s alright.”

Eros purses his lips and nods slowly. The girl is obviously uncomfortable, but he’d learned from his mother that when a woman said she was fine, you had to decide whether or not questioning her self-diagnosis would end in muddled emotions or murder. The god pushes away from her end of the countertop and goes back to his garlic, crushing it into a paste and adding it to the bowl of ingredients. “Do you like big balls or small ones?”

I LIIIIIIIIIIVE

Wed, 08 May 2013 08:20:31 -0400

Good morning, citizens of tumblr. I’m going to knock out my one owed reply.

Feel free to drop me a line about starting a new thread, or add me on Skype if you’re bored enough.