the universe took it's time on you

i will never understand why you held me if you were afraid of warmth you should have known i was fire ( private rp account. please do not follow. )

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‘ seriously, you’re kinda like . . . PERFECT. i don’t get it. ’ // @icaryian

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icaryian:

“ well, of course, darling –– i’m always fine. but it will be so DREADFULLY boring without you. ”   languid form drapes over the other in an intentionally dramatic display.   “ you’re quite SURE you can’t stay a few days more ? ”

“ i’ve already stayed a few days more, lila. ” her voice lowers an octave, purposefully imitating the others posh accent. “ i was meant to return to the front nearly a WEEK ago. gods know what sort of mess general samos and his band of brothers have caused in my absence. ” nose crinkles, her calloused fingers brushing loose strands of hair from the others face. “ you can always return with me, you know ? ”

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wanderiingstars:

I’M NOT A KID ANYMORE, AND WE’LL NEVER BE THOSE KIDS AGAIN.

she is A VISION in purple, with the most subtle of rubies hanging from her ear, earrings he’d pressed into her hands a million years ago, with a smile, with the light in his eyes that DAZZLED her and burnt her from inside out. his hands were always too warm; the earrings had retained that warmth for hours after he’d left her. red is your color, he’d told her, laughing. it echoes in her head now, as she stands in the hall, her spine STRAIGHT and her chin LIFTED and her eyes wide and seeking, scanning the crowds, trying to find him. 

there. a god among men. tall and straight backed and fair and resplendent in his red uniform, every inch the crown prince of his kingdom. she waits, eyes wide and insistent and so, so blue, see me, look this way, look at me, domitius. their eyes meet. she sinks to her knees, elegant, PERFECT. she does not rise until he stops before her, until his shadow crosses hers. she’d never been able to hold a curtsey longer than half a second, as a child. she’d been all mud and fire and laughter, as a child. she’s a lady, now. ONE OF THEM. “ your highness, ” she says, rising, her knees aching. “ i trust your journey went well ? ”

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she’s BEAUTIFUL, and he wants to kiss her all over; start at her forehead and end at her wobbly knees. or, at least, they USED to be wobbly. she used to be all legs and scrapped elbows. she used to be prosperina, a girl of her own with dirt as resilient as her caked underneath her fingernails. she climbed trees instead of attending classes, and kicked dirt at his shoes instead of curtseying into them. the change, so blatantly obvious and heartbreaking, nearly made him collapse to his own knees in anguish. he imagined himself taking her in his arms and yelling apologizes, cradling her and ripping at her dress until he fixed it all. I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY FOR LEAVING YOU COME BACK PLEASE COME ––––

it was too late, and he knew it. the girl he knew, the girl he loved, the girl he STILL loved, was gone. he felt it unfair that he was given no warning, no time to mourn her properly. rage and grief boiled under his skin. she was rubbing it in his face now. his chin is raised defiantly, his jaw flexed in anger. his hands are clasped tightly behind his back, and still, it is not enough. maybe he failed her, but she’s BETRAYED him. “ just fine, lady titanos. all too quickly, if you ask me. ” he allows his eyes to flash to the white-haired beauty standing but a few feet away, the one that arrived attached to his side. his lip quirks up into a smirk. he’s playing a game now. she’s hurt him, so he will hurt her ––––– TENFOLD. 

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+ @wanderiingstars // his bones are heavy. his shoulders have always been broad, but never strong enough to hold this. they were never built for this sort of loss, for this GRIEF. and he misses her, god, he misses her. he’s sluggish, dragging himself across the camp, a mostly empty whiskey bottle trailing behind him. he should stop, he NEEDS to turn around, but the alcohol ( and self-destructive tendencies ) are all propelling him forward. he’s banging on her door, loudly, for all of naercey to hear. he’s saying something too, and it’s getting louder and louder. someone stop him, please. “open up lake, please baby, open up.” he can hear her on the other side of it, he swears he can. emotion is coursing through him like a wildfire, uncontrollable and ignited by liquor. “ DAMN IT LAKE, OPEN THE DOOR. ”

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+ @wanderiingstars // her music is like a siren’s song; it draws him from his quarters, through the kitchens and into the private rooms, where he is certainly not supposed to be at the moment. he seeks to avoid unnecessary attention, but he can’t help it. she’s different from the others; she’s softer, warmer. if it wasn’t for the silver blush in her cheeks, he would think that her blood ran the same color as his. he watched ( listened, ADMIRED ) for as long as she allowed him, until she STOPPED suddenly. “my apologizes, lady calore. i was just passing through and ––– well, i couldn’t help myself. that was beautiful, princess.”

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+ @icaryian // whatever he and laelia have, it starts with her body and ends somewhere between love and toxic dependency. he opens his bed for her to fall into every night, both of them desperate for human contact, but he’s gone before she wakes most mornings. he grips her waist and quickly buries his nose in the bundle of hair at the nape of her neck, shielding himself from the crowd around them. he misses the privacy of the front, ironically enough. the quiet that followed him into his tents. “can we get out of here?” out of this ball, out of this city, out of this L I F E.

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+ @wanderiingstars // SILENCE. PEACE. she is the only form of either that he’s ever known. he holds his breath, grinds his teeth, and waits until the next moment that they’re together. his days pass by slowly until then, and he watches the clocks anxiously. when they meet, he E X H A L E S as he bows at the waist. his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, and he’s staring down at his feet: all habits that remain unnecessary in her company.  “ s e r a p h i n a. ”

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+ @icaryian //  “ you’ll make it through just fine, lila. I PROMISE, ” marina sighed, rolling her eyes at her best friends ( and sometimes, when they were both lonely, a little m o r e than that ) melodramatics. 

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+ @wanderiingstars // “ jesus, hunter, really?? you can’t let it go for FIVE minutes. you’re worse than my mother ––– no, you’re worse than YOUR mother. ”

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+  @icaryian // they’re sitting in their spot on the roof, their legs swinging freely off the edge that overlooks the water. if you can ignore the mud, and overlook all of the barefooted orphans taking up shack under the pier, it’s almost beautiful. not as beautiful as HER, though. his sunflower girl, his FOREVER girl. there’s a breeze coming from off the water, blowing the dark strands of her hair loose from her braid. he just barely resists the urge to run his fingers through them. 

they’re both silent, deep in thought. they know whats coming, and its something neither of them have been ready to face. “ hey, ” he chuckles, lightly elbowing her to jostle her out of her thoughts. “ we still have time. ”

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wanderiingstars:

his thumb’s still digging into her tense muscle and she’s still fighting against making another noise; the sensation’s sending jolts and heat waves through her body. and it feels good to be touched like this because her shoulder hurts, because the rifle’s kickback is TOO MUCH, but it’s more than that ––––– it feels good to be touched by him, gentle and careful and firm. HUMAN CONTACT. she forgets, sometimes, how powerful it can be. her head rolls, a little bit, bows, at the hesitation in his voice, at the sheer amount of exhaustion. there are some burdens she helps him carry, some that oliver shoulders, some that vivian is able to hold on her shoulders, but ––––– there are some that belong to jackson and jackson alone, no matter how much she knocks on the door in his mind, in his heart, no matter how much she tries to cajole him into sharing. 

his question echoes between them, bouncing around, lingering. how long can they stay there ? how long, how long, how long ? “ LONG ENOUGH, ” she finally murmurs, and she’s talking about this place, but she’s talking about this thing between them, because there is, of course, only so long she can stare at him and WANT but not touch. ( and perhaps, now, it’s been long enough. ) she turns, just a bit, just enough to look at him, blue eyes and brown, all leeched colorless by the moonlight. “ long enough, ” she repeats, voice soft.

sometimes it feels like there’s a tether between the both of them, stretching from his heart to hers, but also from fingertips to fingertips, and toes to toes. when she moves, he follows ( oh, he’d follow her over mountains and off of cliffs if she asked ! ) his shoulders are heavy; he knows that the burden he carries is too much, and he knows that there are other men that smile and laugh more than he does, but he thinks, wonders, if she feels the same way about him. he stops the line of thought before it gets too far, but its there, all the same. it holds hands with the thought that involves her lips and bare skin. he’s not always STRONG enough to push both aside. 

his fingers stall on her shoulders. LONG ENOUGH. long enough that they can stay behind the fence of this prison, yes, but long enough that they can stay here, in this moment of PEACE. she’s so close; her smell ( COCONUT and sunshine. how she still smelled like coconut in the middle of an apocalypse, he had no idea. ) enveloping him. she’s intoxicating, and he can’t stop drinking her in. like its a strangers hand, his finger reaches up to brush a blonde wisp of hair out of her eye. he lingers on her cheek. GOD, she’s so warm... when he responds, his voice is barely above a whisper. “ i don’t think it’ll ever be long enough. us. here. i always feel like we’re running out of time, jules. ”

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wanderiingstars:

SHE’S LUCKY SHE’S SITTING; HE SMIRKS, HER KNEES GO WEAK. inky lashes bat at him, and she hopes to god it’s alluring rather than STARTLED. god, just look at him. she’s so busy studying the planes of his face, the curve of his jaw, the dimple in his chin, the angle of his cheekbones, that she almost misses the compliment. ALMOST. her cheeks go red as her hair, and clary smiles despite herself, drawn in, consumed, and long, elegant fingers reach for the drink he slides her. ARTIST’S FINGERS, nimble, a little stained from ink along the inside of her ring finger’s knuckle, tracing the rim of the glass thoughtfully. his eyes don’t match. she thinks it’s a trick of the lighting for a moment, but no –––– one’s blue, one’s brown, with a little shot of that blue; like a freckle, like…..her fingers twitch, ITCHING for a charcoal pencil and some sky blue pastels. 

her head tilts towards the stage, and then away. he’s asked her a question; if she keeps getting lost in those mismatched eyes, she’ll make a damn fool of herself. “ i’m FRIENDS with the band, ” she laughs, slow and low and sweet, and, shit, looks like there’s still time for her to be that fool after all. she takes a sip of the drink, trying to give her mouth something to do other than GAWK at him, and as she sets it down, the tip of her tongue catches a bit of gin from the corner of her mouth. “ do i know you from somewhere ? ” she doesn’t. she knows this. but she’s got to give herself SOME sort of an excuse as to why she’s staring so blatantly.

there are other people waiting at the bar for a drink, but jace isn’t paying them any attention. he’s already got his pockets full with tips, and still, all of the twenties are nothing compared to the DIME making eyes at him. he’s taking the time to admire her. she’s delicate with the way her nose comes to a point at the tip, and the way her cheekbones curve into her jaw. she’s elegant, and soft, and he’s decided, undoubtedly, that he HAS to know her. he’s leaning across the table with his elbows braced on the counter, a permanent smirk etched into his lips. “ the band, huh? ” he repeats, a chuckle in his tone. she seems NERVOUS, but confident.

his eyes dart to the corner of her mouth, where her tongue peeks out so quickly he thinks he imagined it. his lip quirks up. she doesn’t know him; they both know it. “ another life, maybe? ” he shakes his head, a brilliant smile on his face. he needs something to do with his hands, so he grabs a glass from behind the counter and sets to polishing it with a cloth from his pocket. “ no, ” he finally says, “ no, i think i’d remember a face like yours, sweetheart. ”

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wanderiingstars:

there’s another bar in her pocket, and she’s halfway through the motion of pulling it out when he gestures for her to move, and she does, tilting her head as she does. “ lower, ” juliet murmurs as his thumb digs into her skin, her tee shirt barely separating the two of them. she grunts a little bit in the back of her throat when he finds the knot, but she doesn’t cry out, not wanting him to stop. it’s quiet. it’s been quiet for days, now, and she knows that makes him uneasy. it does the same thing to her; she WANTS TO BELIEVE that they’ve found some sort of safe haven here, isolated and with good vantage points, plenty of ammo, and a few shops that still haven’t been completely raided, that still have some food left that they don’t have to hunt themselves. but –––– it’s hard to let her guard down anywhere anymore.

except, of course, with him. 

“ it’s fine, ” she tells him softly, her free hand reaching up to twist her hair out of the way. “ everyone’s settled down for the night, i think, ” juliet murmurs, her eyes scanning the horizon as she speaks. they’re both so hyper vigilant, unable to let well enough alone. maybe it’s why they make a good team. maybe it’s why people listen to her as much as they listen to him ––– or maybe that’s just because of the way jackson looks at her, when he thinks no one’s watching them, or the way juliet looks at him, regardless of who watches. “ i don’t wanna jinx anything, jax, but i think it’s gonna be another peaceful night. ” she hums in pleasure as his thumb finds a particularly sensitive spot, working out a deep kink. 

they’ve lost so many people since the start of this thing. so many times the BOTTOMS dropped out from under them, and by some miracle he and juliet have managed to hold on. the thought of dying ( the one where he turns into one of THEM ) scares him, of course, but what shakes him to his core is the idea of losing her. she’s like a limb, a vital piece of his body that he didn’t even know he was missing. he can do this, but only if its WITH her. he does as she asks, digging his fingers into her skin in a slow, steady rhythm. her muscles are so tense they feel like brick under his hands. 

his eyes travel absently across the yard, scanning the fence line once again. he and oliver walked it a dozen times, looking for a weakness in the iron. it’s safe, it’s safe, it’s safe, he reminded himself. the noise she makes when he hits her shoulder blade sends a SPARK down his spine, one that he fights everyday to ignore. he hesitates a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet, and exhausted. “...how long do you think we can stay here, juliet?” he wants to hear ‘for awhile, jax. i think we can make this our home,’ but he knows better. SHE knows better. if he thought it was possible to build a home with her, in this world, he probably would have KISSED her months ago.

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wanderiingstars:

@fleetingshadow

SHE’S NEVER SEEN A BETTER LOOKIN’ GUY IN ALL HER LIFE. granted, it’s not like clary’s been around all that long, but that’s BESIDES the point here. curled locks are tucked behind her ear as she watches him, trying to be sly about it; her head tilted just enough to be casual, green eyes locked on his form as he moves behind the bar. she  s h o u l d  be listening to simon’s band, should be out there dancing with some fella who isn’t working in a dangerous sort of business, should be clapping and laughing and SUPPORTING HER BEST FRIEND. after all, that’s the only reason she’s here. but no, she’s staring at the damn bartender, riveted not by the sound of her best friend’s voice, all but shouting the jazzy tune, but by the way the blond behind the bar cleans a glass and tosses it up before catching it. she’s SEIZED with a sudden need to sketch him out, to paint the way his golden hair catches the light. 

she shouldn’t bother him while he’s working. shouldn’t make eyes at him when her best friend is singing his heart out. but she can’t stop herself ––– clary’s across the speakeasy and sitting at the bar before she knows she’s moving, all but HOPPING up onto a stool to lean across the bar top. she’s suddenly very glad she wore her green dress; it compliments her complexion, brings out her eyes. she waits for him to NOTICE her before she speaks, brows raised, a hopeful little smile tugging at her lips. “ south side fizz ? ” clary asks, head tilted. “ hold the mint. please. ” 

SHE’S THE FINEST GAL ON BOTH SIDES OF THE RIVER. he’s sure of it, and if you ask jace to give his credentials for making such a bold statement, he’d be more than happy to oblige. he’s behind the bar of a different speakeasy every night, but about a week ago he saw this pretty little redhead dance her way through the doors of pandemonium, so he got in GOOD with the owner and he’s been hoping that she’d make an appearance before the cops shut the joint down. tonight, it looked like either GOD or the DEVIL was on his side.

he notices her as soon as she slides onto the stool, but he pretends not to for a moment. when he does approach her, he doesn’t make much of an attempt to mask the way he’s checking her out; admiring the way her hair falls in perfect curls past her shoulders, contrasting with her green dress in a way that makes his heart keep to the QUICK tune that the band is playing. he smirks, grabbing a glass without so much as taking an eye off of her when he does. “ you got it, dollface. ” he quickly sets to mixing gin, lemon juice, and superfine sugar together in the shaker, before pouring it into a glass and topping it off with club soda. he slides it across the bar to her, leaning forward as he does so, the same cheeky grin on his lips. “ so tell me, WHAT’S A GAL LIKE YOU DOING IN A PLACE LIKE THIS? ”

[domsherwoodsource]

domsherwood My side job… @imthekatie#katiewelch #musicvideo 📸 @calebnashfeemster

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wanderiingstars:

OF ALL THE THINGS FOR HIM TO SAY, that wasn’t the question she’d been expecting to answer. her silence is nothing short of PETULANT, pouting. she’d always thought herself above such behaviors, but faith decides in this moment that she can make an exception. there’s nothing between them but the clopping of his horse’s hooves and the steady rise and fall of his breath on the nape of her neck. “ faith, ” she finally relents. her surname is hovering on the tip of her tongue, but she catches herself. general paterson is WELL KNOWN among the highlanders, and if these men get the idea that she’s so valuable of a hostage, there’s no telling what could happen. she could give them william’s name ––– after all, it was supposed to be hers before too long. “ clifton. faith clifton. ” she tries to ignore the way her stomach flips. 

“ and now you must tell me yours, ” she demands, head tilting. she can’t quite turn in the saddle, but if she angles her chin to the right, it’s ALMOST the same. she’s aware that she’s not in any kind of position to make demands rather than ask questions, but that’s never stopped her before. you don’t get taken seriously as a woman in a man’s world by giving men quarter. she’s been expected to tone her fire down for years, and she has, but there’s a time and a place for A GENTLE TOUCH. now is not that time, nor that place. 

there’s another brief pause, and she should leave it alone, she really should. she’s not stupid. she knows these men have her life in their hands, she should be careful what she says, but she can’t help it. she can’t RESIST. “ i’m dying to know what sort of name is awarded to men this absolutely bloody stupid. ” temper, temper. her fingertips clench into a fist, and then release, her thumbs straining back blindly to try and find the pommel of the saddle, to see if she’s been secured to it, or if she has a chance to lift her bound hands free. 

he actively catches his tongue from repeating her name, testing out the way the syllables will roll out of his mouth like a hymn. he thinks of the few englishmen that he knows, but the name CLIFTON rings no bells of familiarity. he wishes, hopes, that this girl ends up being unimportant. not missed enough for his clan to deem it necessary, or worth the energy to hold her hostage. but something, maybe the way she bites back at him with fire in her tone, tells him that that’s not the case. something tells him that this girl will be a DANGER to them all.

he chuckles at her demand, a low and exaggerated sound in the back of his throat. she was unlike any girl he’d met at home; they had none of faith’s bravery or wit, that much he knew already. of course, what he deemed brave, others would likely deem stupid and reckless, and if she was on the horse of any of the other men, it would be. “ tavish, ” he answers, despite her insult. 

his eyes drift down to her struggling hands, watching as she fumbles for a way to escape as she has so far the whole ride. he leans forward, his lips dangerously close to her ear as he lowers his voice, only for her to hear. “ you wouldn’t make it an ell before they caught you, faith. ” he glanced around at his companions, assuring that they were all too intently focused on their own thoughts to pay attention to him. he leaned forward again, “ i’ll take your blindfold off if you promise not to run. ”

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+ @fayechambcrlin //  “ CAROLINE, just breathe, okay ?? and listen to me. you can do this. ”