#indigni

                                                  ❝   Anything you can do about that?  ❞       That, the celestial sword impaled through the perfect center of her kitchen table, skewering an orichalcum box to the wood along the way. The Christian god’s grace was a white flame and it rippled all along the blade, reflecting the rose-spread of day-is-done light leaking in through the windows and gilding it in blue and aubergine. The table’s lacquer finish didn’t so much as peel from the fire, but Meg could feel the BURN of a furnace if she brought her hand close.

     She edged her fingers against the table’s edge instead, mails dragging across mahogany as she walked a half circuit round till her attention is communicated through the ripples of a heat haze.       ❝  I can’t even touch it.   ❞  

fistbumps bc i’m literally binging that shit ������

                       It comes as no surprise after having come to recognise ( and, more importantly, ACCEPT ) that his two closest friends had indeed grown exceptionally close despite all stigma and religious teachings going against it. Eyebrows furrow still, for it is due to that very reason on top of his own attachment to their mutual … friend, that this distress feels like nothing short of a pair of claws tearing at his insides.  

                   ❝  There will be no need for that.  ❞  Silently does he approach, bracing a lone hand on her shoulder and offering a smile one could easily call pitying as he does.  ❝  We’ll find her before it comes to that. I PROMISE.  ❞     ( // @multimentium )

... ｢  🔥 . ｣

       The hand upon shoulder offered more comfort than the other would ever know                    volatile  anger threatened to bubble outward from her petite frame,   &&  turn everything surrounding them to smoking ash.

                                                                                   Tantamount to a red handed confession that. Rather than distracting, prevarication left her ample space in which to construct fanciful rainforests and towering castles, all elaborate assumptions of what catastrophe could lay behind his barren response. The fist full of shirt front she takes is reminiscent of their first meeting only this time instead of pulling, she shoved.   BACK TO THE WALL.  Apropos since she was feeling a little cornered herself imagining the potential for clusterfuck and myriad of ways in which she too could be culpable.      

send 📱 to find out about my muse’s phone — accepting.

What ringtone my muse has set for yours: link

What contact photo my muse has set for yours:

What my muse thinks of the way yours texts: he texts perfectly 0:)

How quickly my muse responds to your texts: sometimes she leaves it until he has to appear in her house if it’s something urgent. she does it just to wind him up

How often our muses text: too often for kane’s liking most probably

How often our muses call: darcy calls him more than she texts him. he always seems to find a way to frustrate her over text but she’s pretty sure it’s more difficult for him to be an ass while they’re speaking. she calls him when she’s upset sometimes; asks if she can stay with him in canada for a while.

Does my muse purposefully miss calls from yours: no.

       With the rising popularity in serial novellas, Vanessa found herself among some rather strange company in the supernatural and occult sections of book stores these days. Either way, much of it it was questionable literature, at best. Luckily, in this particular shop, there were reputable books. Aside from the gentleman who had just walked through the shop’s doors just moments before, Miss Ives was free to roam around the shelves without an ounce of disruption. 

       Feeling eyes on her… call it intuition, if you will, her gaze lifted from the bottom shelf, up to the rows of books ahead of her… and finally to her right, only to meet up with an unfamiliar, though intriguing pair of eyes.