war torn edges.

highly selective. penned by tot. prev. falsesavior.

[gonatombom-deactivated20171123]

                                         ❝ ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim.❞                                independent, private octavia blake. written by jasmin.

[octaviagifs]

who knows what I’ll become

[polyshipprompts]

Imagine your polyship falling asleep together. Everyone is in their pj’s and everything, and they doze off. Everything is fine until, at like 2 in the morning, persons A and B, who were on the edge, fall off, because person C decided to randomly go into the starfish position. Insert persons D, E,+ if you wish.

[satirizing]

[lightheartedsuggestion]

Your warmth and kindness is more beautiful than you know.

[arcusignis-deactivated20181222]

smolwars:

haha yeah i have a ton of weird kinks

[trexarmskydex]

[politicalasylumincuba]

But they look so good 😌

[remindie]

[mythosraised-blog]

@illegalbuilt

[gonatombom-deactivated20171123]

mythosraised: 

The power of that marginal pout could make him kill entire nations, if she so much as asked him to. Head over heart, and all that. But six years without his sister has dredged a trench in his chest. One that won’t get filled fast and he knows that. “Yeah,” is all that escapes, still thumbing along the soft curve of her cheek. She was so strong. Powerful. Beautiful. He doesn’t like sharing. But he pulls his hand away reluctantly. “I’ll be here.”

“I know,” she says, her voice soft as she gives him a reassuring smile. Things have changed during those six years, and while she wants to catch the time they’ve lost being separated for so long, she knows she CAN’T. Her responsibilities are far too heavy and demanding. “Or you could come with us?” she hears herself suggesting before she even has time to consider the idea properly. “There are meetings you can’t join, but it’s still long ride.”

[mythosraised-blog]

He's stopped questioning the awe that comes with the way she smiles at him. How it rectifies all the fissures and cracks within him. And it makes sense. She had always been his world, and his purpose. But even beyond that, his inspiration to move forward in life. The corner of his lip twitches, and there's an ease to him that no one else can procure as he reaches up to tuck the stray locks from her features. Right behind her ear. Traces along the intricate braid that reigns along her temple. "Whatever you want, O," comes the rich vibrating murmur.

[gonatombom-deactivated20171123]

mythosraised: 

There’s a grunt in response. Still tracing along the bone of her elbow. The muscles of his chest tighten as his nostril ticks just slight. “I don’t want you gone at all.” Lips barely moving against her forehead as he looks down to her. The fondness visible in the way his features call and even out. Moves his large hand to her cheek now. A familiar caress. // @illegalbuilt

She pouts briefly, knows how difficult it is to be away from him. As eager as she is to PRETEND it doesn’t bother her, truth is that she would just much rather stay here – safe with him. But there are still duties, and Indra won’t be pleased if she must wait for her. “I’m going to be LATE…” she mumbles, looking up at him with an apologetic smile. “Indra’s waiting for me to be there in time, you know.”

[mythosraised-blog]

The power of that marginal pout could make him kill entire nations, if she so much as asked him to. Head over heart, and all that. But six years without his sister has dredged a trench in his chest. One that won't get filled fast and he knows that. "Yeah," is all that escapes, still thumbing along the soft curve of her cheek. She was so strong. Powerful. Beautiful. He doesn't like sharing. But he pulls his hand away reluctantly. "I'll be here."

[mythosraised-blog]

There’s a grunt in response. Still tracing along the bone of her elbow. The muscles of his chest tighten as his nostril ticks just slight. “I don’t want you gone at all.” Lips barely moving against her forehead as he looks down to her. The fondness visible in the way his features calm and even out. Moves his large hand to her cheek now. A familiar caress. // @illegalbuilt & cont.

[madecommander-deactivated201711]

mythosraised: 

Keep reading

Keep reading

[mythosraised-blog]

[lifeinpoetry]

Am I supposed to be grateful to have survived this?

Brenna Twohy, from “I Know It’s a Little Late,” Forgive Me My Salt (via lifeinpoetry)

[mythosraised-blog]

floathim.

      both hands grasp at bellamy’s forearm now, toes brushing the ground as he tries to keep his balance despite the way bellamy lifts him up. god, he’s so strong. who needs to be that strong?

       “—look, maybe if you ask nicely, i’ll think about it.” he’s determined to get hit, evidently, but he’s hoping that bellamy’s desperation for finding octavia will outweigh the irritation he has for murphy.

There's one thing you don't mess with. And that's the safety of Bellamy Blake's sister. Breathing in slowly, his eyes narrow into slits. "Enough," he states, jaw clenching as his breathing gets the better of him, following be rhythm of his quickened heartbeat. "Tell me where she went, Murphy."

Sure, he softened but it was more due to the panic rising, fingers grasped in his shirt. He needs to know where she is. The heat of his own blood pounding in his ears.

[mythosraised-blog]

basiicphysics.

          He’s always had to be Strong. Strong for Jasper. Strong for Harper. Strong because the moment he falters, the moment he lets himself feel something– he feels everything. So now, even when the tears are quiet and the sobs stifled, he can feel the dam beginning to crack. And as much as he wants to find safety and support in his friend’s arms ( a friend , he knows , understands more than anyone else ever could ). Instead, he uses this moment to will the tears to stop, shaking his head. “ i’m okay. ” It’s a lie. Bellamy has to know it’s a lie. But Monty needs this lie. “ i– i’m okay. ” 

His heart breaks in two at the sound of Monty’s words, and he doesn’t know what to say. Mostly because he knows it’s bullshit. So he furrows his brows and keeps his arm around him. Steady. Firm. He swallows as the corner of his lip downturns. Reliable. But Bellamy shakes his head now, palm moving from his bicep to Monty’s shoulder and he closes his eyes for a moment. “You don’t have to be, Monty. Not up here. Not anymore,” he tells him now, in a low rasping murmur. His eyes open and deliberately lock with Monty's own hues. “So. If you need to cry... Then cry. I’ll still be right here.”