palm dance

let the girls be bad.

let them howl beneath a bloody moon. hold red palms, merry go round, dance around the maypole. let them mischief. pass spells in class. wear velvet cloaks. take pictures of themselves in costume jewelry and lace, posing by the window seat, or in the backyard, next to the rose bush. 

let them retrace their veins, remake their souls with new names, new family. sisters of reborn flesh. 

playing cards to tell their fortunes (love is near, death is watching). rose quartz and emerald and amethyst. candles and incense. gin and crinoline. 

maybe it’s evil. maybe it’s sin. 

let them be bad or they might do you in.

okay. well this is vaguely more of a warm-up looking thing i guess, due to the fact that it’s not awful but it’s also not grea t??

 (trust me im normally way better, its a little off here due to the fact i was trying not to let my shades fling across the room)

8

INFJ Slytherins are:
the hope to be better, late nights studying the sky, New Year’s kisses, cold moss filled streams, tracing the lines of someone’s palm, large mirrors, dancing with a broom for practice, making a potion to help someone feel better, being congratulated by a friend, hot chocolate made with real cocoa, and the pleasant clash of a warm hearth fire in a cold winter room.

REQUEST OPEN @the-pine-forest-findian

I hope that when he kisses you
He feels a hurricane in the back of his throat
As you take his breath away

I hope that when your palm
Dances over his body
His eyes roll in amazement
Because of everything you are
And everything you’ll one day be.

I hope he finds the galaxies in your eyes
For in you I invested an entire universe
I traced the silk that was your hair

It was beautifully long
And like all the best things
It came to an end.

—  I love you // A.S
Pierce The Veil Sentence Starters
  • “I know it’s hard, but who are you to fall apart on me?”
  • “I’m sorry, I can’t see that you truly love me.”
  • “’Cause sometimes I love the way you swing the blade at everything in sight.”
  • “Last night, you said you ended up at Palm Springs dancing on tables.”
  • “Well, fuck, what am I suppose to be, impressed?”
  • “I guess it’s time to say goodnight. I hope you had a really good time.”
  • “Oh my god, this is paradise.” 
  • “Can I even complicate your breathing?”
  • “Keep talking ‘cause I love to hear your voice.”
  • “What’s so good about picking up the pieces? What if I don’t even want to?”
  • “Don’t mind me, I’m just reaching for your necklace.”
  • “You can’t just throw me away.”
  • “It was the best time of my life, but now I sleep alone.”
  • “The taste of you and me will never leave my lips again.”
  • “Don’t you try and blame this on me.”
  • “My love for you was bulletproof but you’re the one who shot me.”
  • “By the time you’re hearing this, I’ll already be gone.”
  • “I want you in the most unromantic way.”
  • “This blood evacuation is telling me to cave me.”
  • “Just stay away from my friends.”
  • “I don’t care if you’re sick, I don’t care if you’re contagious. I would kiss you even if you were dead.”
  • “Can we create something beautiful and destroy it?”
  • “If you come over tonight, we can travel through time.”
  • “What a waste of a perfectly good clean wrist.”
  • “If every living thing dies alone, what am I doing here?”
  • “If it’s the end of the world, you and me should spend the rest of it in love.”
  • “Dare me to jump off this Jersey bridge?”
  • “I’m tired of begging for the things that I want.”
  • “The thing I think I love, will surely bring me pain.”
  • “Imagine living like a king someday.”
  • “You’re just wasted and thinking ‘bout the past again. Darling, you’ll be okay.”
  • “If you kiss me goodnight, I’ll know everything is alright.”
  • “You know the only real way to cure pain is to add a little more, because everything new distracts from the old.”
Creature's Tail (Closed Rp)

A spring formal event. Those with good family names, or had some kind of influence always went. The mix of humans and monster’s alike mingled together, danced together, laughed together. It was times like this that made most forget about the unspoken fight outside these walls. And in Russia, many would probably dare someone to pick a fight within their country.

Dainty clawed hands held a very bored head within its palms. Disappointed with each dance partner, the feathered dragoness had taken a moment to step out onto a balcony. To take a breath of fresh air, to let her paws heal from being stepped all over. Her ears perked however listening to the melody inside. Her feathered tail swayed side to side, the song catching on in her throat to hum along. Occasionally her eyes would drift closed as the rest of her body would almost start to follow. Only stopping when she noticed her skirts swaying around her legs. Which noteably reminded her how to choose a dress with more color other than a pale blue.

Her name was called, causing the young monster to turn her head to see who may have wanted her attention. Her mother? She was waving her over to join in what ever mayhem may be brewing. Righting herself and her dress she padded quietly over to her parent. The older woman was grinning, human cheeks a flushed pink. ‘Uh oh…mama’s had to much. Papa did warn her about Russian alcohol.’ “Sapphire! Love! Your fathef has made some new friends. They have asked to meet you after your father gushed about you!” The older woman though tipsy it seemed was just thrilled to be there. Though the yonger girl blushed she smiled. Looking past her mother, there was her father speaking with a bright smile. His tail rested on the ground in relaxation. These others must be good if he was that relaxed already. Her mother had already taken her hand and led the way over. If it were possible her father only brightened as Sapphire came up to one side. An arm slung around her shoulders. “ Here she is! This here is my daughter. Her name is Sapphire.” @chat-noir-knight

Blind

If i was blind I’d read your body like brail till was able to comprehend
Every curve
Every muscle
And
Every crevis
You see,
You’d be the only person in this world that I’d ever care to read;
That I’d ever love to see
 
Behind my palms dancing ever so lightly across your toffee colored skin
I’m basking in your aura;
Comsumed by your raw beauty that none with two capable eyes could never fathom to truly see,
For what you behold; buried far beyond your stucture
Is far to powerful for any naked eye to see;
To magnificant for any ordinary human to believe.

Insensible Blue

Fandom: The Raven Cycle  (Maggie Stiefvater)

Pairing: Richard Gansey III x Blue Sargent

Rating: K+

Based on bluseyy’s headcanons here.

You can also read this at ff.net or ao3.


She once dreams of kissing him.

She can’t recall if they were on the hood of the Pig underneath the stars or on his unmade bed back in Monmouth Manufacturing or sitting beneath the beech tree in 300 Fox Way, just out of view of the porch windows, or all three at once. It’s all just a dream, so she guesses it doesn’t really matter.

All she remembers is his sweaty palms dancing a path on her spine and her fingers grazing his lower lip and the spirit of his pulse jumping at her touch. He looks at her with a sort of fire in his eyes, something thrilling and terrible and everything in between. Although she definitely likes scholarly Gansey the best, Blue thinks that this other Gansey, this wild and insensible Gansey, comes in a close second.

Even in sleep, a small voice reminds her harshly that this, this is NOT allowed, but she can’t help it; her body moves out of its own accord, ignoring all reason and curling into his warmth. She is Blue Sargent; she is less of her, and then she is more, much, much more, more than she’s ever been. She feels reckless and powerful and just as insensible, and it is positively the best feeling she’s had lately in a season of very unpleasant happenings.

This isn’t allowed.

She wonders if she should care.

And yet, his hands are so, so careful, holding her firmly despite their trembling. Dream Gansey knows this isn’t allowed either.

Can a dream kiss kill a dream Gansey?

It’ll be okay. He says as if he’s read her thoughts, but his voice cracks at the last syllable.

It takes only a moment of hesitation before Blue decides to hell with the curse.

It’s messy.

Perhaps, messy is too weak a word.

They’re too nervous; she feels the jitters all the way down to her stomach, echoing on his skin and his breath. They bump foreheads and mash noses. She uses too much tongue, and he, too much teeth. It’s wet and awkward and rushed, although not entirely unpleasant.

After a while, his hands finally leave their place on her spine to cup the back of her neck, trying to bring them closer than they already are. Her own seek his hair with a certain urgency, fingers tugging at the strands behind his ears and curling around his nape.

At once, she pulls too hard, making him break away with a swear on his tongue. A bit of guilt creeps in and she opens her mouth to apologize, but the words don’t come as realization swiftly hits her. They stare at each other, eyes wide and cheeks flushed—he’s still alive, the curse can’t reach us here—and then they’re giggling.

She realizes that they haven’t laughed like this in a long time. She notices that dream Gansey laughs just like the real Gansey, that is to say, he snorts very un-Aglionby snorts in between chortles and his eyes crinkle until they almost disappear and he’s a dork, an absolutely adorable dork, she thinks. The thought makes her giggle even more.

Try again? His eyes seem to say as they catch their breaths. Up close, she feels the warmth and scent of him, of mint and sweat and the Henrietta sun. His hair stands in every which way thanks to her efforts and his lips are tipped upwards in invitation. A hand comes up to tuck her hair behind her ear; the attempt is fruitless, but he does it again anyway.

This time she doesn’t think, just leans in at an angle and closes her eyes.

His lips are softer than a boy’s lips should be, she wonders, and then abandons that concept completely as they move over hers deeply, slowly, like they have all the time in the world. Her fingers resume their place in his hair, this time running through them in gentle apology. His mouth curls and presses deeper into hers in response. 

It is all she wants, really, to be able to kiss his mouth like this without having to worry about accidentally killing him, but she doesn’t realize how painful it would be. The softness of everything is enough to make her chest burst, a strange heaviness amplified when she remembers that this is only just a dream.

It’ll be okay. He whispers into her mouth. Again, an answer to her unspoken thoughts, although this time, it sounds more urgent, more real…

And then it ends.

Without ceremony. Without fanfare. A dream.

So why is her heart in her throat?

She opens her eyes to the white of her ceiling, although in the shadows, they seem a bit blue in hue. She blinks once, then twice, and then three times for good measure, her body still ringing with adrenaline while her mind tries to grasp her surroundings.

It takes a few moments for her pulse to slow, but she can’t forget the memory of his lips; the softness of them burns vivid in her mind, making her shiver. Throwing her covers off, she gets out of bed and pads silently into the phone/sewing/cat room.

Her fingers fly over the numbers in tactile memory. Real Gansey picks up on the first ring.

“How do you feel about late night orange juice runs?” Already, the Pig is roaring to life in the background.

In spite of herself, she laughs. This isn’t allowed.  

“Actually, I prefer cranberry myself.” A pause, and then, “Come get me.”