Noraxzhao‌:

rpmememaker‌:

Send “✆” for a MORNING text. Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT. Send “☎” for a RUSHED text. Send “⁇” for a DRUNK text. Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text. Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text. Send “✘” for a HATEFUL text. Send “#” for a RANDOM text. Send “@” for a SCARED text. Send “&” for a LOVING text. Send “%” for a CURIOUS text. Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text. Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text. Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text. 

“#” to leighton pls

Silas: Do you by chance know anything about bats? — five minutes later — Silas: Not because of you being a vampire or anything. Just because I have a little family of them living in my attic and could use some advice.

gabrielxnikephoros‌:

Gabriel had made his way around the store to stand by Silas finally, tilting his head a little bit more at the snark that exited his friend’s mouth. The other incubus was soft; a kinder spirit than Gabriel had ever met in his entire existence. And that existence was being reminded to him, again. “Oh, so he’s got jokes.” Gabriel huffed out a laugh, shoving Silas lightly, “Unbelievable. I offer you my friendship, my wisdom with all my age, and you just – throw it back at me. Forget it. I’m going to steal the tea recipes and then I’m going to blame you.”

“Alright, see you in about thirty minutes,” the fellow cubi kept the smirk firmly planted on his face as Gabriel attempted to psych him out. Silas wasn’t exactly sure if he really needed another with him in order to do the deed, but assumed another set of hands was probably necessary. Either that or another set of eyes. Regardless, he was involved now for better or worse. “Maybe you can support the bookstore across the street while you wait. I’m sure there is something you haven’t seen yet.”

“Wasn’t no harm in him. You’d give him a flower, he’d keep it forever.”

— Linda from Terrence Malick’s “Days of Heaven”

leightonhaywood‌:

It must have been interesting. Showing up at old estates, going through storage bins, just collecting old relics. You could learn a lot about a person by their belongings, interior decorating, that kind of thing. Despite his often nomadic nature, Leighton often wanted a house just to fill it with things. An old Victorian kind of place full of furniture and knick knacks from his travels. Make it like a museum of his life, of his travels. Collecting such artifacts kind of made Silas a tourist in these people’s lives. Someone who shows up and buys great grandmother’s ottoman. “If only these things could talk, right?” Leighton turned his head to offer Silas a small smile before picking up what looked like a wooden jewelry box off a shelf. Simple, but the craftsmanship was beautiful. Something for Lia maybe, but he didn’t know if she’d appreciate it. “Ever run into anything…” He wasn’t quite sure how to phrase it out in the open. “Suspicious?” Cursed, enchanted, that kind of thing. Items that should probably be passed off to the witches, maybe even a genasi.

Hadn’t that been the whole reason for Silas’ current existence? Suspicious artifacts, cursed objects, enchanted things that gave the allure of normalcy and tricked the unsuspecting. Not in the sense that the cubi did this for a living wage, that his whole life was altered by what Leighton called suspicious. Silas would be lying if he said that wasn’t a major part of why he went heavier into that side of the business. The more he was in contact with supernatural objects, the more he could learn from them and how they all functioned. He couldn’t afford to be ignorant to their existence and instead had to embrace it, find out more. “Absolutely,” was the cubi gut response given his close ties and personal feelings. Many of his clients were part of the community and wanted to remain confidential, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t speak on his other lines of work. Even his own connection continued to be a mystery for most, which he didn’t mind keeping that way, “It’s rather interesting that over the years I’ve become well-known for that— able to dig out what others are seeking so eagerly. And enchanted artifacts are a hot ticket item depending on the need or purpose.”

beau-zale‌:

The thing about these “supernatural hub” towns was that they made for good shopping. Crystal shops, elaborate flower places, throw in some new age juice place covered in pagan imagery, throw in a vampire bar and one not so stereotypical shop amongst them  and you have BINGO. The place he’d stepped into now was one of those, a free space kind of place. Local art tourist attraction kind of deal, it was an interesting take on the usual tshirt and shot glass place, he supposed. That kind of thing didn’t interest him so much as all of the secondhand stuff. Not quite a thrift store, but there were certainly antiques and if this gig was more long haul, maybe he’d be back for some of them. That wasn’t what he was there for today though, there were few particular things he picked up from these kinds of places. If only he could find them among all the various knick knacks. @silaskyun​

Spring months always brought in more business to outside shops like his. After months of being locked inside, everyone was desperate to get out and do a little meandering the streets. It didn’t quite guarantee business, but this resurgence gave him the chance to actually get some fresh wears in the window and new artist work looked at. Not to mention all the lack of sleep between the nightmares and emerald scale that never left the cubi’s pocket, having plenty of time to get various objects moved. Dark, puffy circles hung from Silas’ eyes as he heard the chime of the store bell ring and a stranger wandered inside. Immediately he could sense the abundance of magic as he watched the man slink through the isles, eyes darting about as if he was looking for something specific. “Help you find something?” a tone as friendly as he could under the circumstances, exhaustion hanging onto him with a firm grip.

Same set up, different event. That didn’t mean the thrill of it all wasn’t plastered on Silas’s face. He loved shifting between bodies in the crowd, snapping photographs or jotting down highlights of moments as the incubus observed others having the time of their lives. This was normal, keeping tabs on history as it happened before his eyes. Being present without being openly involved, the only way Silas really knew how to exist. Long before the change he did much of the same, weaving in and out of sight during times of war in order to document the terrors he was seeing. While this was more of a celebration, it was forever going to be a habit and the repetitiveness of it never bothered him. “Do you mind?” he asked sincerely as he approached a man sporting a devious grin, displaying his camera to see if he was alright with being photographed. It was better to ask then find himself getting scrutinized like some had tried in the past, “You just seem to really be enjoying yourself.”

@reapersoriano​

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?”

leightonhaywood‌:

“Interesting line of work.” Useful, probably lucrative considering how full of supernaturals the bay was. Leighton took another sip of his tea as he thought back to his London flat. He really didn’t have anything “magical” aside from maybe a few books about healing magic. Which were kind of pointless, but he liked them anyways. It’s not like he had anything against magic, he was sure if he found something that interested him enough, he’d get it. He’d just never bothered searching for anything. 

“What do you find around here usually?” There were a lot of historical sites, local artisans and such, but he was curious. Corinth was a hub for the supernatural for a reason, surely it was brimming with magical things all over the place. Maybe that was something he should be looking into. “Solely speaking as someone with not much interest in such things.”

“A lot of jewelry,” the cubi started, placing his mind on several gold and copper pieces that had been enchanted for different purposes. As he had learned more about the supernatural world after his transition, Silas realized how much power was in the objects that dangled around everyone’s necks. Charm spells, anointed in magical oils, various stones that could even make a mere human more fortunate and those were the hot ticket items. The only thing that was truly different was the details or the style, which varied from different regions and forged with a contrast of items. “Masks, coins— bronze trinkets. Some of them just seem like completely ordinary things sitting on your grandmother’s hearth, but actually help find magical ingredients. Kind of like a metal detector,” a smile holding, clearly speaking from experience and still enjoyed talking with the client that took it in. An older gentleman whose eyes were not as good as his younger years and paid Silas a little extra just for being polite. “Though the objects I find are just as interesting as the people that seek them, in my experience,” his usual tone, but with a sour punch at the end that the cubi couldn’t quite control. He saw many different types, not just the good side where people cherished the object and it sat on a shelf. No, some lusted for darkness in a way that Silas had never seen— even at war.

richiesteele​:

@silaskyun​

His shift at the fire station had ended early and Richie was bored out of his goddamn mind. In his free time, he’d normally find himself hiking along a cliffside or cooling off his heated skin in the Mediterranean but the gloomy day had him feeling all types of weird. So, instead, he decided to visit his pal Silas in that strange little Knick Knack store of his because there was nothing more endearing than tiny figurines on a rainy day. The man in question was helping another customer when Richie entered the store so he busied himself with the small porcelain masks on a hook near the door, trying to resist the urge to interrupt the conversation with a flirtatious remark, if only to watch Silas fluster. But he wasn’t so cruel.

Or maybe he was. 

Letting his fingers roam across the mask’s features, Richie pretended to drop it following the other customer’s exit, letting it purposefully clink against another piece of porcelain mid-air before catching it low to the ground. He grinned wide from his squatted position, glancing up to meet Silas’ eyes when the other rushed over to stop the catastrophe, his efforts utterly futile because it had all just been a ploy to get the attention he desired and man, it worked like a charm. “What, you don’t have faith in me? Thought I’d come in here and wreck your store?” Of course Silas would expect that of him since Richie’s behavior was nothing short of chaotic. But, truthfully, he had a soft spot for fragile things and that much was obvious when he slid the mask easily back onto the hook with gentle fingers. “You know, I may have strong hands but I can be delicate too.” 

There was nothing better than the sound of gentle rain drops hitting the rooftop upon waking, bits of sun trying it’s best to leak through the stormy cloud-lines but not enough to bring much into the incubus’s bedroom. He promised himself he would actually wake up slow this time and not rush into the shop to start on a project, giving time for stretching or a cup of tea before opening. Many of the projects that Silas had been working on were in the mix of compilation, but he was always slightly ahead of schedule. This was mostly due to his ability to lose track of time, finding himself with a dim light on in the back of the shop as the morning sun was starting to peak over the horizon. Most people or even beings had the ability to say they enjoyed their job to that degree. Sure, he needed breaks from the business now and again. That’s when he would close up for days on end and wander, but the rainy season in Corinth kept him snug within the city limits.

When he finally arrived, it was commerce as usual. Phone buzzing as various customers came by to pick up their commissioned pieces, hardly giving Silas much time to notice the werewolf’s face emerge inside. Nor had he realized it was well past lunchtime and he had yet to even ingest anything since breakfast. Once waving goodbye to his regular, charcoal irises landed on the dark brown locks and gave a genuine smirk. Quickly, it seemed, Richie had about lost his grip on one of the priceless pieces and he was quick to rush towards him to prevent the disaster. Though that was typical of him, wanting to help right away only to discover it was another one of the wolves games. He patted his arm playfully and gave a snort, “I have yet to see it, so excuse my assumptions. I don’t know many in your line of work to dabble with both.”