a taste of forest

People often misunderstand what the old saying about a cat having nine lives means. The cats prefer to keep it a secret, as most humans can’t be trusted with information so fragile and precious, but there are exceptions.

The merchant who shares his leftover fish. The young girl that hides littler after litter of newborn ones in her room until they find new homes. The old man with scars who still has enough kindness to open his shed to let them slip in from the rain. Boys, teenagers, mothers, warriors, brothers - some are trusted.

Exceptions, yes, few nowadays and rare, but honoured all the more.

So nine lives there are indeed. Each cat is born with them and no matter the time or place, they are lost easily.

This is where the story ends for most people.

But for those who are trusted, those who wake up one morning and find a weird taste in their mouth, the scent of a forest never touched by human hands in their nose, and a strange lingering touch of whiskers on their forehead - they know the truth.

Nine lives for this world, is what all our legends used to say.

You, friend of cats, know the ancient, almost forgotten sayings.

You know of cat eyes shining in the deepest night when they shouldn’t be able to. You know of cats staring past your ear, at that forbidden spot right by the frayed corner of your vision, and you fear that if you look, your cat won’t be able to stare it into submission anymore. You don’t look. The cat purrs. You’re safe.

The kittens have all their lives still. They do not look at the edgewalking beasts that whisper through their humans’ house. It will take time until they fall, hurt, learn.

The oldest cats know so much that a touch of their paw will make an entire village shudder. Their quiet voices cast spells. Let them roam. You cannot imagine the things that flee from them as they walk in silence.

Cat friend, you know it in your heart.

You know of the paths they walk that human feet can’t find.

You know of the nights they vanish and return with the scent of blood, earth and salt in their fur, and when your fingers touch their coat, a cold shiver awakes your skin.

Sometimes, they hear things. You don’t know what, but you know enough to let them sit in front of your house or room, paws tucked under, dark stare never leaving an invisible spot in the air.

And when you float between sleep and life, when you’re unlucky enough to claw at the edge of death before you’re ready to go…

Then maybe, friend of cats, you’ll feel a brush of fur along your legs. Maybe, just before you startle with awe in your heart and wake once more, the same pair of eyes that should sleep by your side winks at you from another world.

we taped a map above my bed labeled all the places
we will go.
marked it up in ballpoint pen,
forging roads and pathways we’d travel
someday. i cradled japan delicately in one hand

and fit the curve of chile in the other: curled
like a question mark, curled like your smile.
wondering where does the pacific become the atlantic?
you said silly, they’re in love, that’s

what it’s like. when you touch someone so often
you sometimes forget where you end and they begin. 
and this
i knew to be true. i’m forests and you’re oceans
but i developed a taste for the saltwater

that thrums in your veins. your heart
is a seashell and when i held it up to my ear
i could hear the echoes. can hear them still,
the ocean song is not one to forget:

the water humming its secrets into the shore.
but waves are wonderfully fickle,
woefully fickle. you dreamed of sandstorms
and tsunamis to cup in your palms,

one-way roads and windswept hair
and headlights forging a way into the dark.
while you dreamed of a roadmap to everywhere
i dreamed of a roadmap to you. and darling

last january you visited. you held me
with your arctic eyes and said i never knew
tectonic plates could hurt this much. i said
oceans split up pangaea, you know. you nodded,

slid your fingertips across china and slipped your thumb
in the hollow of the mediterranean sea, between italy
and libya. a key into a lock, filling the spaces.
you whispered these used to fit together, once.

— DEAR WANDERER | love letters unsent #4paperharbors | (for @inkstay‘s prompt 48 “a traveller’s tale”)

Blame @reblogginhood because her stuff on Vesta on Meta Station’s latest podcast inspired me to write a little bit of a Roman Empire AU.

There were perks to being the emperor’s son.  Pike was a bit ruthless for Bellamy’s tastes, but he had been a good commander out in the forests of Gaul.  The old emperor had been a weak, corrupt man, and Bellamy had made sure his legion supported Pike when he returned to take the throne from Jaha.  

Being named his son and heir in return had been a welcome surprise, as it took a boy who had been born in the back gutters of Rome to Palatine Hill.  It also meant sitting with the emperor at the Coliseum, surrounded by slaves with fans while the gladiators battled below in the midday heat. Pike’s relentless war with Queen Nia had been a thorn in Bellamy’s side, and he had agreed to attend the games to smooth things over.  Several hours had passed and Pike seemed to have relaxed, soothed by the festivities below.

Festivities that turned Bellamy’s stomach, but he watched them with a mask of excitement nonetheless.

Pike plucked a fig from a tray and offered it to Bellamy who waved him away.  “This one is new,” Pike said, motioning to the blonde woman walking boldly out onto the sands.  “They’re calling her the Commander of Death.”

She saluted the emperor and Bellamy sat up, intrigued.  “Where is she from?” he asked.

Pike busied himself with choosing another fig.  “Just a slave,” he said, and Bellamy turned his attention back to the arena.  The gladiator’s hair was woven back into intricate braids and she drew a short, broad sword.  Her legs were all smooth muscle, and when the panther was released she danced away with an easy grace.

The match was finished quicker than Bellamy thought possible.  The gladiator circled the panther and then seemed to stumble back just as it pounced.  He thought she was gone— a disappointment— but then the panther went limp and she heaved it aside.  She’d used the beast’s weight against it, driving her sword into his belly when it tried to tear her throat out.

That was a daring play; one false move and she would have died, but she didn’t even seem to relish her victory.  Most gladiators would feed on the crowd, but the Commander of Death simply bowed and strode off her field of victory without a second glance.

“I’d like to meet her,” Bellamy said suddenly.

Pike looked up, surprised.  Bellamy didn’t usually take advantage of the perks of his station, and Pike furrowed his brow.  “I can arrange that,” he said, but his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes.

The gladiator arrived at the palace later that day, still dressed for battle but with an empty scabbard.  He was reasonably sure he could have disarmed her if she meant him harm, but his guards were probably wise not to send an armed slave into the chambers of the emperor’s son.  She stood with her shoulders straight and her chin tipped up in defiance, her blue eyes cold and hard.

Bellamy poured himself a goblet of wine and dismissed the rest of the servants.  She hadn’t spoken yet, just watched him warily as he paced around her.  “You must be wondering why I’ve summoned you,” he said, stopping just behind her left shoulder.

She didn’t look back.  “Not particularly,” she said tightly.

“It’s not for that,” he said, and her shoulders let go of some tension.  

Up close, she looked just like he remembered.  Same delicate lips, same straight nose, same blonde waves.  Her body was harder and leaner now, and he was willing to bet her hands back then hadn’t been callused from holding a sword.  He had only seen her a few times, carried past their street on a litter, but he never forgot a face.

Especially not one as beautiful as hers.

“Wine?” He held a goblet out to her and she accepted it with a suspicious look.  “It’s probably been years since you’ve had something this fine,” he continued, and she lowered the goblet from her lips without taking a sip.

“What do you mean?”

Bellamy circled around to face her and wondered if he was about to meet same fate as the panther she’d dispatched.  “I mean, it’s a long way from Palatine Hill to the arena, princess.”

Her eyes snapped to him but otherwise her face remained impassive.  “I’m not sure what you’re saying,” she replied carefully.

“Pike was a soldier; he never spent much time in Rome.  But I grew up here.  Down in the slums just past the market.”  He took a sip of wine and cocked his head to the side.  “The market that the emperor’s son’s betrothed used to frequent.  Tell me, how do you go from princess of the empire to a slave in the Coliseum?”

Clarke’s nostrils flared.  “Your betrothed dies and his father is murdered by a butcher who has no business running a province, much less an empire.  You run, and you get captured by people too stupid to realize who you really are.  So you start fighting.”

“You haven’t touched your wine,” he observed.

“I’m waiting to see what you do with me.”

Bellamy gave her a crooked smile. “I’m offering you a chance to get what you want.”

Something sparked in her eyes.  “And what’s that?”

“Justice.  Revenge.  Whatever you want to call it.”


Bellamy stopped in front of her and looked her straight in the eye.  “I want you to help me bring down the emperor.”  

The Wolf’s Domain

Words: 15, 795

Everyone writes about Werewolf!McCree, and I love it, but I tried my hand at Werewolf!Hanzo. It… got a bit out of hand.

Few ever branched into the wolf’s domain. It was not a place that wanderers could merely find themselves after a single missed turn or misread sign. This was the heart of the unsettled land, secluded, safe. People did not come here on their morning walks; beautiful as it was, it was simply not the place for man.

Few that wandered here possessed kind souls, not this distance from the beaten path through the forest. Those that meandered these grounds with a weapon in hand were only looking for trouble, and, most often, they would find it. The warnings posted at every entrance to the forest that bid travelers be wary were not decorations meant to be admired and forgotten. Those that freely disobeyed these warnings would come to regret their actions in time.

Keep reading

An Overly-Earnest DS9 Post

One thing I’m enamored with is the pervasive sense that these races are tragedies. The Jem’Hadar and, to a lesser extent, the Vorta, aren’t treated in the usual manner enemy alien races are. They’re literally engineered to be killing machines, but they’re shown as multi-faceted and with cultures of their own, not just as mindless drones there to provide a threat and be killed. They are races of sycophantic, treacherous bureaucrats and warriors of extreme ruthlessness, but in both cases we are shown just how ill they’ve been treated by the Founders. It’s as if they are both species of Frankensteins, clones without even the most basic genetic agency. The Jem’Hadar have literally no means of reproduction independent from the Founders, and the Vorta are all clones of themselves, expendable middle managers. Vorta are sent out to negotiate with autonomous species as a form of diplomat, getting enough experience to know just how many senses they’ve been deprived of. They can’t taste anything but what was purportedly the native forest food of their original species, a reminder of how the Founders “elevated” their race, and perhaps the poison they’re engineered to be immune to. They don’t have a sense of what’s beautiful, they can’t even see clearly, but they do have a suicide switch in their brains. The Jem’Hadar have short, brutal lives without even a chair to sit on as they fly off to their deaths.

And yet…they’ve somehow erected cultures for themselves in spite of this oppressive oversight. The Vorta have their own creation myth (one given to them by the Founders, to be sure, but one that they’ve embraced and imbued with their own meaning). The Jem’Hadar have their own rituals that make the distribution of the enzymes they need to live (and which keep them dependent on their masters) like communion. They have a code of honor that they abide by and draw meaning from, however fatalistic.

One day, one rhyme- Day 1154

What if spiders could fly like flies,
Or had eight fangs as well as eyes?
What if fish had feathers like birds?
What if moths flew around in herds?
Imagine how people would talk
If leopards swam and squid could walk?
What if chocolate tasted bad?
What if laughing could make you sad?
What if forests were turned around
And all the leaves were underground?
What if the grass grew on the sky
And cars could float, and ships could fly,
Or if you gained weight playing sports?
Some of my past 3am thoughts.

Tony stumbled into the kitchen, hands slapping at the counter irritably until he found a mug. He muttered under his breath as he poured himself a cup of coffee, taking a long slow sip as he turned around to lean against the counter. He squinted blearily at what looked like a man with icy white skin and golden antlers sitting at the table and reading the newspaper.

The man glanced at him with glowing green eyes before returning his gaze back to the paper. “Greetings, human.”

“Hello,” Tony said for lack of anything else. He took another sip of coffee because he was not awake enough for this bullshit. “Who’re you?”

“My family calls me Loki.”

Tony tilted his head. “Do you like being called Loki?”

Loki paused to consider it. “As I have no other name to be called, I suppose I do not mind it.”

“Okay, reindeer games,” Tony muttered, slowly making his way over to him. He peered at the golden antlers for a moment, then flicked one. It rang like the metal. He wondered if it was soft like the metal, too.

“What are you doing?!” Loki snapped, tugging his head away when he realized the boy was going to bite one of his antlers.

Tony huffed. “I just wanted to see if they were soft.”

“They are not!” Loki said, nearly shouting.

“Okay, man, chill out,” Tony complained, as if he had not been about to put his mouth on the monster’s person. “Gosh, you guys sure are grumpy.”

Loki tensed. “…There are more of us here?”

“Yeah, Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Clint, and Bruce,” Tony said, counting on his fingers. He paused, then hesitantly put up another one. “And Hulk? Hulk and Bruce are kind of the same person but also not.”

Loki relaxed a little. “I see.”

“Probably watch out for Natasha though,” Tony added. “She’s shown a worrying lack of shame about eating people.”

The monster blinked at him. “…And she lives here.”


“…With you.”

“Uh huh.”

Loki covered his mouth as he stared at the human in concern. What a worrying lack of self-preservation. He’d known that humans could be stupid, but this… this was a new low.

“I’m gonna go blow something up,” Tony said. He began to circle the table and paused when he saw that the monster didn’t have human legs, but what looked like the rear legs of an albino deer. “…I can bring you a stool.”

Loki shook his head. “Nay.”

“Nay?” Tony asked in disbelief, than rolled his eyes. “Fucking nay, he says.”

Loki raised his eyebrows as the boy wandered out of the kitchen, muttering to himself. “…What is wrong with ‘nay?’”

Steve looked over his shoulder, frowning. “Hey, did you know there’s a guy with antlers in your library?”

“So he’s not in the kitchen anymore?” Tony asked, lifting his goggles. “He said his name’s Loki.”

“Weird,” Steve said, coming up behind him to wrap his arms around the human’s waist. “Is he staying?”

“I have no idea,” Tony replied, slapping the monster’s hand away when it tried to dip under his waistband. “Steve, I’m welding here.”

Steve pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, using just a little bit of fang. “So stop welding.”

Tony shivered and bit his bottom lip as the monster began pressing little nipping kisses up and down his neck and shoulder. “I need to get this done.”

You need to get done,” Steve countered, grabbing at his crotch. Then he screamed as he was covered in foam.

Tony snorted and turned to give Dum-E a smile. “Guess Dum-E thought you were getting a little too hot.”

“I thought you liked me,” Steve told the robot, hurt.

Dum-E beeped and waved the fire extinguisher cheerfully.

“Mean,” Steve whined, like the child he secretly was. “Fine, but when you come up to get cleaned up, I’m showering with you.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“…And by showering, I mean fu–”

“I know,” Tony cut in.

Steve pouted, crossing his arms. “So when were you going to tell us about the new guy?”

“When I figured out what to say about him,” Tony admitted. “He just showed up this morning.”

Steve tilted his head. “Weird,” he muttered thoughtfully.

Tony frowned, concerned. “Bad weird?”

“…Yet to be determined,” the monster decided. “I’ll do some recon.”

“I think you could just go up to him and ask what he wants, Steve,” Tony said gently. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“You thought Tiberius Stone was a nice guy,” Steve hissed, shooting him a glare, before slithering out of the workshop.

Tony would be hurt, except every time Ty saw him these days, he went ghost-white and ran in the other direction. He didn’t know what (or which one, for that matter) the monster(s?) had done, but they’d obviously done something.

“He is not a nice guy,” Clint snapped, turning to show Tony his back. “Look!”

Tony frowned when he saw the patch of missing feathers and the two puncture wounds on his flesh. “…Were you trying to roost on his antlers?”

“Well they’re big!” Clint said defensively. “He wasn’t doin’ anything with ‘em!”

“Clint,” Tony sighed.

“Well he wasn’t!” the monster snapped, hopping up to roost on the back of the couch.

“Stop trying to roost on people. Without permission,” Tony added thoughtfully, because Hulk always let Clint perch on him. “Not everyone is like you guys with no boundaries.”

Clint scoffed, ruffling his feathers. “Well! See if I roost on you anymore!”

Tony glared at his back. He’d love it if Clint stopped roosting on him. He was heavy and always knocked Tony down.

“So, uh,” Tony asked awkwardly.

Loki lifted his gaze from his book.

Tony shuffled his feet. “…You can read?”

Loki tilted his head in acknowledgement but stayed silent for a few minutes, thinking. “…Is that so strange?”

“None of the others can read,” Tony began, then stopped. “Or, well. Bruce can. Hulk can, too, but he has trouble turning small pages with his gigantic fingers. The others just… choose not to learn, I think.”

“Ah,” Loki said, and understood, for the most part. It was hard to learn to read when you had to hide most of your life.

“Anyway,” Tony added, looking away, and began wringing his hands nervously. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for Clint, since he’s probably never going to. For, um. Roosting. …On your head.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Ah.”

“So, um. Sorry. For Clint.” Tony jumped as the monster stood. He’d never seen him at full height–Loki’d been kneeling at the kitchen table, and he’d been sprawled on one of the couches when he’d come in.

He was… intimidatingly tall. Nearly as tall as Hulk, all long, lean lines. It should have seemed delicate, but Loki just looked powerful, the muscles in his legs bulging and his chest all hard lines. With his antlers, he looked regal, and also incredibly terrifying.

Loki reached out to cup his cheek, skin cool against his own, the tips of his fingers ending in hard, blunt hoof-like material. “You are a good human.”

Tony blinked up at him with wide eyes, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. “Y-yeah?”

“I hope,” Loki began, then paused. “…That you continue to be.”

Tony squeaked, terrified, because that sounded incredibly ominous. “O-okay.”

Before he could say anything else, Natasha dropped from the ceiling, hissing quietly as she glared at the other monster. “If you do not take your hands off of him at once, I will rip off one of your antlers and shove it up your ass.

Loki held his hands up placatingly. “My apologies.”

“I don’t know what you want, trickster, but if you hurt Tony in any way,” she added, just a hint wild-eyed. “I will fetch the Hulk and he will tear you limb from limb. And then I’ll eat your guts.”

“…My apologies,” Loki repeated, looking her right in the eye as he did.

Tony looked back and forth between them, brows furrowed together in confusion. Eventually, though, both monsters relaxed, and then Natasha was whirling him around to march him out the door.

“You are quite possibly the most unconsciously suicidal human I have ever met,” Natasha spat. “Do not trust Loki, even for a minute. He’s an old monster.”

“…Older than you?” Tony asked hesitantly.

Natasha paused, making him slow down as well, before she answered, “Older than the rest of us combined. He’s still got Old Magic clinging to him like a cape of dust. I’m not sure anyone but Steve and Bucky would have noticed, and even then, that sort of magic was swallowed up by humans before they could get a proper taste.”

“But you know it,” Tony said, frowning. “The–the taste?”

Natasha stopped again, shoulders stiff. “…I know of the taste. Sometimes if you go into the deepest, darkest forests, or the deepest, darkest caves, you can find Old Magic. I was too frightened to approach the one I did find. There’s a feeling to it, of great power, that’s terrifying to behold.” She shivered, then began walking again. “Only old monsters know how to wield it properly, and there’s so few of them left. I shudder to think of what life would be like for humans if more of those monsters walked the land still.”

Tony shivered as well. That… that sounded horrifying. “Should I ask him to leave?”

“Creatures like Loki leave only when they mean to leave, Tony.” She swallowed. “I can only hope he does so soon.”

Tony curled up into her side as they walked toward the stairs, only relaxing when her two arms curled around him. “…But you threatened him with Hulk.”

“You heard Bruce,” Natasha said quietly. “He’d been messing with something that he shouldn’t have been. You can’t taste the Old Magic on him when he’s the Hulk. But you can when he’s human, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the change.”

Tony shivered again, feeling even luckier that Hulk hadn’t crushed him when he’d hidden behind him.

Villains with a heart - The Evil Queen

fair and beautiful they had called her, the young maiden with the dark ebony hair and the lips red as mellow apples
there was a storm at her feet, swirling playfully across her soles
she had been a mere teen when the hunter ensnared her with his wide shoulders and his broad chest, with kisses tasting of forest meadows and freedom
beauty he had called her
but then he found another one, his hands not even touching her anymore
she never looked in the mirror again

Feeling tetchy

So I only have 3 exams left so I had a bit of free time so here’s a request:

Anon: From your prompt list 2,35,37,49,50 with pan

My blankets were roughly pulled off of me and the curtains ripped open, spewing sunlight into the my hut. I groaned squeezing my eyes shut.

“Get up,” Felix demanded, setting a plate of food down on the table next to my bed.

“Nooo,” I moaned, shielding my eyes from the sun with my forearm.

“Yes, you haven’t been training for over three days. In fact, when was the last time you left your hut?”

“I’m tired,” I protested as I pulled the blankets back up.

“Actually Y/N, you’re just lazy - there’s a difference.”

“I don’t care,” I announced, rolling over.

“You have ten minutes to be out on the training ground.”

I ignored him, closing my eyes to show him I was just going to go back to sleep.

After I heard him leave, I opened one eye to check he was definitely gone then started to eat the food slowly.

Ten minutes passed and I was still happily in bed and the camp was quiet because everyone was at the training grounds. I smiled to myself, popping a strawberry into my mouth, when out of nowhere, Pan appeared at my bedside, grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the bed, causing me to fall onto the floor and almost choke.

He pulled me up off the floor.

“Gets your filthy hands off me,” I whinged, trying to pry his fingers away from my wrist as he dragged me out the door.

“Wait, I’m still wearing my nightdress.”

“Well, you should have thought about that before staying in bed for so long.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“Yeah, keep rolling your eyes, you might find a brain back there.”

“Excuse me?!” I asked, wrenching my wrist out of his vice-like grip.

When we finally reached the training ground, the boys were all practising archery. I went to grab a bow and arrow but was stopped by Pan.

“No archery for you today. Since you chose to be so lazy for the past few days, you don’t get to join in. You can sharpen the arrows.”

“I don’t think so!”

“But I do”

I crossed my arms defiantly. “Make. Me”

He raised one of those god forsaken eyebrows and advanced on me, looking down because of our height differences.

“Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”

I breathed a sigh of annoyance and picked up a bag of arrows to sharpen. It’s best not to push Pan too far.

“Atta girl,” he said condescendingly.


I sat on a nearby tree stump sharpening the arrows with a not-very-well-concealed temper.

After a while, Pan came and sat on the large rock that was right next to me. I refused to acknowledge his presence and continued to sharpen the arrows with a vengeance.

I noticed Pan moving ever close to me, invading my personal space.

“If you’re not careful, you’ll cut y-”


The blade I was ruthlessly sharpening with sank into the knuckle of my thumb, causing it to bleed quite a lot.

“Let me help you,” Pan said reaching for my hand.

“Piss off,” I said, elbowing him out the way and walking at a brisk pace back through the jungle while putting pressure on my bleeding knuckle.

I didn’t get very far at all when Pan teleported in front of me and grabbed by hand, healing it before I could even object.

“Get off me.”

“I think you like my hands on you.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“Let’s test that theory.” He slammed his lips into mine without giving me a chance to react and backed me up against a tree.

Up close he smelt like forest and he tasted fresh as he forced his tongue past my lips to explore my mouth. I moaned into the kiss and he brought his hands up to cup my breasts, kneading them as he tried to deepen the kiss even more.

Then his hands started to travel south, along the curve of my hips and down to my thighs where he bunched up the bottom of my dress and slipped his hand upwards.

He finally reached that spot and he moved my underwear to the side. He detached his lips from mine as he entered his fingers into me, causing me to cry out.

“Why are you so fucking tight?” he moaned, pumping his fingers into me harder and faster.

I moaned loudly.

“Shh, you don’t want the lost boys to hear use do you?” he asked, pressing a finger on his other hand to my lips.

“I bet I could make you cum like this, couldn’t I slut?”

I nodded, tears forming in my eyes.

“But I won’t.”


He withdrew his fingers, leaving me whimpering.

He got onto his knees and lifted the fabric of my dress up to my hands, indicating for me to hold it out of the way while he started kissing the inside of my thighs near my heat. I tangled my fingers into his thick hair.

He finally attached his lips around my clit, sucking and licking, causing insane pleasure before delving his tongue inside my core, making me moan like crazy then adding his fingers again while my legs shook and I thanked God I was leaning against a tree for support.

Finally, when I couldn’t take it anymore, I released, feeling the hot juices run out of me which he licked up.

“Let’s take this somewhere a bit more private…”


Jasper Hale imagine requested by anon. “Could you do a Jasper imagine, where your his human mate who just learned about vampires and you still haven’t seen one in the sunlight yet. So you ask Jasper to show you. ” Hope you like it!

In a way, you were willingly signing yourself up for what was certain to be an excruciating death sequence. As you left your home, you found yourself forcing your mind away from finalities. This was likely the last time you locked your front door, yes, but it could very well be one of many more fumbles, just another search for the gleam of brass in the shrubbery. You were quite literally risking your life today, and for what? To answer with love would be a tad too drastic; you’d only known the man for a few months, and the time you’d spent in the know had been an even smaller amount. No, it was not for love, but for something else entirely you couldn’t assign a word to. It was fiercer than curiosity, stronger willed than desire, choked by something close to fear (a cousin, maybe), fueled by an undying urge to see. It was about vision. It was about trust. As you found yourself walking away from your childhood home, you couldn’t help but catch your breath in your throat. The familiar concrete of the path connecting your doorstep to the sidewalk… would you ever see this again? Would you ever scrape your knees on the porous material after one too many ambitious tests of an icy sheen? Would you ever return for the holidays with your family? Would you teach your child how to walk on the very same plain you had learned? Death was a high-ranking probability, but the unnamed emotions driving you onward overwhelmed any lust for a thought as tedious as self-preservation. You needed to see it.

He wasn’t waiting with a car, which you had expected. He wasn’t exactly on board with the idea of being in a cramped, confined space with nothing but the beating of your pulse and the delectable (nay, irresistible) aroma of your blood warming the cabin of the vehicle. He didn’t bring his motorcycle at your request; your parents were likely to blow gaskets if they so much as hard the sound of a Harley’s pipes moments after you left the house. It would be a similar reaction if you had told them you were about to lope off into the forest with a vampire, only slightly worse if you were to mention that said vampire was the most unstable vampire within a ten-mile radius. You had to give him credit; if he was willing to be alone with you, he must consider himself in control… and he really was trying. Jasper was standing beneath the expansive shade of the forest’s edge, his hands clasped behind his back. He couldn’t quite shake the military, could he? His smile was strained, as it usually was, to be in such close proximity with his natural food source, but his butterscotch eyes were brighter than you’d ever seen them. He nodded in your direction, smirking as he dissected your face.

“You’re nervous,” he observed, rooting around through your brain, tasting your emotional atmosphere. You inhaled the scent of the forest, exhaling slowly, your eyes on his. He must have hunted recently. His eyes were as golden as they’d ever been, but there was a vibrancy to his irises that you’d never witnessed. The bruises beneath his eyes were barely visible. He almost looked… well, no one as inhumanely beautiful as Jasper would ever come close to looking human again, but he looked healthier, happier. His charming southern voice crept forward from between his lips, quieter than you had expected. “Y/n, we don’t have to do this today. Perhaps if you’d rather wait…?” You shook your head, dismissing his recommendation the moment he spoke the words.

“No, Jasper, really. I’m good. I’m… I’m excited.” His brow furrowed slightly, his head turning as if to hear you better.

“More so than you are afraid?” He inquired, his voice lilting somewhere between fascination, humour, and regretful understanding. He was aware of the risks he presented; he was the newest vegetarian, that much you knew, and being alone in a secluded location far from town was as close to a perfect recipe for a slaughtering as you cared to imagine. Regardless of the danger, you wouldn’t live your life without having seen this strange feat Jasper’s family had inherited alongside their immortality. If you didn’t go, you’d regret it for the rest of your life. Even if you died today, you’d have fulfilled a gaping curiosity festering in the pit of your stomach.

“Way more. I’m ready to go when you are.” You were glad to hear the strength in your voice. Surely, Jasper could sense a falter in your composure, but he declined to mention anything. The South raised their gentlemen well. He smiled, his eyes glimmering in what little sunlight shimmered through the cloud covering.

“We have twenty minutes before my sister Alice has promised a sun shower,” He lifted his eyes to the overcast skies, grinning to himself at the uncanny accuracy of his meteorologist sister’s precognition. His eyes returned to your face, glowing like evening sunbeams through a crystal jaw of amber honey. He shrugged his shoulders, peeling his rain jacket from his body, extending a rigid hand in your direction, offering you the coverage you’d forgotten. “You may need this. You may be… cold.” Again, he smirked. You rolled your eyes, accepting his offering, careful not to make contact with his icy skin. He would not be bothered by the weather; your touch, however, he may not be ready for. You donned Jasper’s coat, relishing in the chill the fabric carried, overwhelmed by the heady scent of him. You turned, as if in a daze, your eyes searching for your mode of transportation, your attention caught by the uncommonly smooth sound of Jasper clearing his throat. “We’re running, if that’s alright with you.” He extended his hand towards you, his jawline rigid, controlled. He wouldn’t hurt you. At least… well, it wouldn’t be intentional. You slipped your palm into his, watching his shoulders cease to move as your skin warmed the frozen alabaster of his callous-less hand. He had ceased to breathe. He moved, ever so slowly, calculating his every step, until you were a hair width away from his dazzling eyes. He smiled briefly before spinning you in his arms, cradling you to his chest with ease. He lifted an eyebrow, wordlessly asking permission to continue. You nodded him on. You had never regretted a decision more in your entire life.

By the time the forest stopped spinning around you, Jasper had been still for a good five minutes. Running with a vampire was not your favourite medium of travel, that much was certain. You weren’t prepared for the supernatural speed at which Jasper carried you through the wood, dodging tree limbs and fallen trunks at the last minute, seconds before you managed to see the threat. It was… dizzying, for lack of a better explanation. Jasper, however, was completely unfazed. He cuffed and rolled his sleeves, exposing the pale skin of his forearms, his eyes raking the skies as they began to clear. Sure enough, the peaceful sound of splattering rain against the waxy leaves above began trickling to your ears, wrenching you back to reality. He stood a fair distance away, though not quite far enough to ice you out of the picture. He was respectfully acknowledging that you were so very human, and that standing too close might, at the moment, have meant an end to your human life. He was cautious, that was it. The rain began to fall evenly now, advancing from stray droplets to waves of water soaking down the tree bark around you, moistening the moss underfoot. Jasper eyed a river to your right, walking out from beneath the protective cover of leaves you shared, strolling into the open air. His clothing began to darken as the water struck the cloth. His hair suspended raindrops like gemstones among his golden curls. He was absolutely beautiful. He shot you a wary, almost testing gaze, likely attempting to read your scattered brain for any scrap of fear. He didn’t have much time to search, and you didn’t have much time to compose yourself before the sun peeked out from behind the heavy gray clouds. A sun shower, just as Alice had predicted.

All at once, the vampire changed. His skin, which you had thought of as marble, alabaster, could only have been crafted from diamonds. His every pore was faceted like a jewel, refracting light and colour as if he were made of some precious stone unknown to mankind. The rain fell on, continuing to soak through his clothing, the form-fitting cotton shirt he’d worn stained a much darker blue than before, clinging loosely to his carved physique. His eyes fluttered closed, his palms turned upwards as the sun drenched his body in light. You watched on in mystified awe as he glimmered, what little remained of the colouring beneath his eyes erasing entirely. In fact, he seemed to flush beneath the sun’s rays, like there was blood coursing through his veins once more, flooding his cheeks with the palest of rosy colour. He was far more beautiful than you could have anticipated. Quite honestly, to have this creature end your life would have been a blessing. To perish at the hands of an angel rang with promises of Heaven. Jasper tilted his face to meet the rain as it plummeted from the clouds above, his shimmering skin reflecting different light as he moved. He seemed to sigh, contented, basking in the warmth of the sun.

You lifted yourself, slowly at first, from the mossy forest floor, watching Jasper’s eyes flash open as your scent stirred in the air. The guilt you felt for disturbing such a magnificent creature was disregarded instantly, overpowered by your desire to stand beside him beneath the sun. You walked forward, abandoning the promise of drier land as you stepped beyond the reach of the trees, striding closer to the river, to Jasper. He tensed slightly, following your every move with his eyes, his face immobile as he read your emotional state. What he must have found there… the wonder, the awe, the delight… surely it had some impact on him. You trusted him completely, and in sensing that strength within you, he began to trust himself, if only by a fraction. You were standing before him, not quite as close as before he’d pulled you into his arms, but not as far as your greeting earlier in the day. His skin was even more glorious at a close range, if such a feat was possible. Slowly, cautiously, you began to raise your hand, allowing Jasper plenty of time to prepare for what you had planned. He didn’t flinch away, didn’t relocate, didn’t warn you against the movement; he wanted this experience, either to test himself or to test you. Something in him still wondered why you had agreed to come at all, and now was the last place he’d risk scaring you off. Your eyes left his, following your fingertips as they made contact with his dazzling cheekbone. He closed his eyes, sighing into your touch, his face tilting ever so slightly in the direction of your hand. You trailed your fingers to his jaw, encountering unseen ridges there. His eyelids fluttered open momentarily, watching as your brow smoothed out and you continued downward. As you traced along the patterns the sun created on his sparkling skin, you discovered many similar ridges, but Jasper didn’t seem to mind them. Your hand fell to his chest, your palm placed over his heart. Part of you waited for a heartbeat. Part of you waited for death. All that happened was that Jasper overstepped the boundaries he had set for himself, surprising you. His hand closed over your own, holding you to his chest. He inched your hand upward until you were once more cradling his face, this time more completely. He inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering closed again.

“This is wonderful,” he whispered, more so to himself than to you. You smiled, practically exuding happiness. Even without his abilities, Jasper would have picked up on your joy. His eyes opened, burning low with calm enjoyment, his lips pulling upwards at the corners, lifting his features from the stoic you were used to. “Y/n, words cannot express…” his voice trailed off, his unoccupied hand reaching to your waist, his palm smoothing over your hip. “I hope you can understand me when I tell you that I haven’t felt this human in a very long time.” He paused, drifting closer to you, his chest resting against yours. How strange, this proximity was. You weren’t complaining, of course, but to see Jasper so… uninhibited, so free, it was something foreign to you. He hadn’t been this close to you, even when he shot through the forest with you in his arms. No, he was restrained, pulling away from you, if subtly. Now, however, he was close enough to breath you in, to count your eyelashes, to snap your neck, maybe, but more importantly, he may be close enough to kiss you. His voice filtered through the mayhem that was your mind, his smile tainting his tone with a lightweight dye, granting feathers to his tone and flight to his words. “It has been too long since I’ve last allowed myself…” he trailed off, shaking his head in wonder, his smile growing. “And to feel what you’re feeling! Y/n, you can’t imagine how I feel. I could sing.” At this, you laughed, a motion that brought you closer to him, somehow. Perhaps he had pulled you in, you couldn’t tell, but he was accepting of your shift.

“Yes, I’m sure that’d be quite the performance, Jas-” His thumb pressed against your lips, silencing your speech. The unimaginable smoothness of his skin stroked over your lower lip as his fingers tangled in your hair, his body pressing more securely against your own. Your heart raced in your chest, colour rushing to paint your cheeks. He smiled, his eyes closing as he read the erratic rate of your heartbeat, nodding his head slowly.

“I could think of much better things to do with my time. For example…” He ducked his face to yours, resting his forehead against your own, pausing for a moment a mere second away from your lips. His jaw clenched once before the sweet perfume of his steady exhale billowed over your face, enveloping you in indescribable scents. You scarcely had time to decipher exactly what Jasper smelled of before his marble lips were moving against your own. He was careful in his movements, reminding you without words of the precautions you had to take when you recalled enough sense to return his kiss. He angled his face to better mold to yours as his hands tilted your lips to his mouth, securing your body to his as fully as he dared explore. Your mind was absorbed in all things Jasper, from the pinpoints of light that continued to dance from his skin and shone through the darkness of your eyelids, the delectable cologne of his body, the way his height sheltered you from the rain. It was glorious, it was heavenly, and it was over far too soon for your liking. Jasper detached himself, taking a few steps backward, applying that familiar distance once more. The sun disappeared behind a darker, murkier cloud, and the diamonds of Jasper’s complexion went back into hiding. He smiled, warming you despite the chill of his open palm. “Now you know why we can’t go to school on days like this,” he joked, his voice lifting effortlessly as he laughed. You joined him, lacing your fingers through his, your hands suspended between you as you walked back beneath the trees. Your heart was singing, even if Jasper wouldn’t. You’d never been happier than you were in that moment.

You hadn’t known it when you left, but you could have very well gone with Jasper out of love. After all, time meant nothing to an immortal.

things the signs remind me of (based on tumblr posts)

Aquarius: Chlorinated pool water, piano music, brown eyes, potted plants, glitter waterfall cases, pink lipgloss, peaches, old baseball caps, bath bombs, scent of vanilla.

Pisces: Fluttering birds, brand new pens, dandelions, lace, pastel colors, the ocean, bow ties, the sky, pink blush, scent of ocean breeze.

Aries: Red lipstick, lemongrass, balloons, minimalism, sunflowers, messy buns, cloudy mornings, sushi, bananas, fresh lemons.

Taurus: White roses, old photographs, wanderlust, architecture, climbing trees, comfy beds, big blankets, oversized t-shirts, braids.

Gemini: Summer sports, foreign languages, the color black, mountains, daisies, ice cream, fog, glitter, love letters, band aids.

Cancer: Warm beach sand, misty breezes, cracked paint, paper lanterns, floral patterns, abandoned places, reflective lakes, lavender, Japanese candy,Chinese take-out.

Leo: Camping at night, glass, polaroid pictures, high ceilings, willow trees, dirt roads, old backpacks, bubbles, shiny eyeshadow, old movies.

Virgo: Water colors, photography, tattoos, monochrome, calligraphy, tea, old book smell, midnight swims, yin-yang, scent of clean linen.

Libra: Falling leaves, warm sweaters, sunsets, hidden trails, long hair, bubblegum, kisses, lace table cloths, honey bees, scent of smackers lip balm.

Capricorn: Evergreen trees, frosty windows, party clothes, late night bus rides, poinsettias, gauzy curtains, scent of cinnamon, the color teal, sweater weather, cigarettes.

Sagittarius: Fairy lights, sparkly snowflakes, graph paper, flower crowns, peppermint, forests, boat rides, tulips, the taste of watermelon, butterflies.

Scorpio: Crunching leaves, crackling fires, song lyrics, scented candles, rain, burning wood, starry skies, koi fish, scent of dark roast coffee.

charmingpplincardigans  asked:

You should tell me about Blue Sargent's Top Five Moments From The Road, because it will be a lovely distraction for both of us. (Hope you're feeling better. ♥)

Blue Sargent’s Top Five Moments From The Road:

  1. The first time she got out of the car, looked around, and realized she recognized absolutely none of her surroundings.
  2. Celebrating her one-year anniversary with Gansey in a spectacularly shitty diner in the American midwest. There is Elvis kitsch as far as the eye can see. An Elvis-shaped clock with swinging legs bats Henry’s hair back and forth for the better part of an hour before he notices. Their burgers taste like napkins. It’s absolutely amazing.
  3. Walking through the redwood forests, feeling her tree soul sing to these trees. Trees want nothing more than to reach the stars, and these are the closest of any of them.
  4. Seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time. Yeah, it would have made more sense for them to take her to the Atlantic Ocean first, but you know what? The Pacific is better.
  5. On an isolated stretch of rural highway, she slams the accelerator and lets the engineless Camaro scream down the road as fast as possible, just to see if it really can get up to 140. It can and it does.

(and i am indeed feeling better.)

anonymous asked:

Could you please write a fic where Rhys gets up in the middle of the night because he scents a horny sleeping Feyre. Then he wakes her up by doing kinky shit to her 😍😅

I just want everyone to know that I will probably NEVER answer one of these prompts again. I have too many other legit stories I want to tell. So this is gonna be short and sweet and smutty. This is NSFW and, as I have no fear of words, I use language that MANY people find offensive. This was NOT written with personalities or what’s canon in mind. So it does not reflect how I see or understand these characters. You’ve been warned!

[A Midnight Feast]

It was the smell that woke me. Something sweet and haunting, and so thick in the air that I could have choked on it. It called to something so ancient in my blood that I damn near woke in a frenzy.

I inhaled deeply, and my body sang to life.

Keep reading

At the edge of my forest there is water that tastes of salt. Diverse and colorful creatures living diverse and colorful lives abound. The line that divides my forest garden from their forest garden is cold, sharp and definite. Some struggle past the line for a while, bringing back pictures of the other forest garden, but for me, I will sit here and dream of life below the surface having faith the other forest is there.