oops maybe i should tag this

anonymous asked:

have you drawn any of the supporting roman characters like the fifth cohort demis? or will you maybe do it in future?

when i have more free time, i’ll definitely draw them! for now have a jason n gwen doodle from a thing i started ages ago (and should probably finish oops)

anonymous asked:

if you dont make rules people cant follow

// I mean, they could still follow if they wanted to. Since there is no rule against it… 

I know what you mean but my blog description literally says: ”rules and stuff coming soon”

I will get to it soon, I made this blog just a like 2 days ago so it’s still under construction. I haven’t roleplayed in ages, so yeah, please be patient! I don’t expect anyone to follow back btw, haha. 

it was only a kiss [1/?]

crooked-queen was having a bad day yesterday (because people like to try and make perfect people feel like crap, too bad they didn’t succeed), hooksandheroics, did you really think it was over?, wetbellamyblake, you deserve to be tagged in this for distracting me by making lovely gifs

prompt - I’d love to see Bellamy and Clarke as the football player/cheerleader of rival teams who have this obvious sexual tension every time they see each other at away games, and it finally snaps one night and he takes her up against the locker room lockers. 

AN: I have no idea when I will finish this but Naiche will make me.

Bellamy joined the football team because when he started looking at possible ways to get into college. Now that might not make a lot of sense, but if he wants to into a good college and so that his sister can go to one as well, a scholarship for football is the best choice for him.

He worked his ass off all through high school to be the est and he was definitely becoming the best.

Then Clarke Griffin, the blonde with too attitude and that haughtier than thou face, came along and he had trouble concentrating. It wasn’t just the fact she was beautiful (she was, she looked like a fairy princess, small and delicate but also strong and powerful) but then he noticed how she watched the plays. How she would wince as one of her team fumbled or passed in some way, each of these would end in a resounding tackle from a member of his team.

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Your hands replace where my bones should be. You pressed harshly into my skin so that I could remember your name when you were away. Your name was imprinted ever so deeply into the dents in my lips, the curves of my waist, I was sure I would never forget. How could I forget the person who bruised me with the harsh reality of my imperfections? Scarred me until I didn’t remember what my body looked like originally?
Your fingers grabbed at my insecurities; exploiting them to no one but myself, and maybe that was the most painful reality. I keep a watchful eye when I walk around my neighborhood in case I run into my most painful memory: you. I can’t sit at the park without being afraid you would be there. I can’t stop at a grocery store without thinking of the time you grabbed my hand so tightly when I tried to leave the isle.
In my dreams I run away from my demons, but the twisted truth is that you will always find me. I have stopped dreaming. I have stopped taking walks, and going to the park. I prefer takeout rather than fresh fruit and vegetables because I am so afraid.
I am so afraid my bruises will resurface and form fresh ones. The purples and blues will mix and create a sense of overwhelming pain and everything that I have tried so hard to forget will come back to me in a sea of colors.
I don’t want you to come back to me. I want my bruises to fade into the smooth layer of my skin, blending within the peach tone of my thighs. But suddenly you’re back, and the bruises stay dark, darker than they ever were; casting a galaxy on fragments of my skin, only shown to those who look.  Eventually, gloomy nights turn into dark lilac skies, takeout turns into grocery store, and late nights become early mornings.
I believe in the saying, “nothing lasts forever,” so this is me saying that you will NOT become me. You are not my mornings and my nights. You are not my dreams. You are not my insecurities, or imperfections.
You are not my morning walks, or my favorite food. YOU ARE NOT ME. Today, my bones replace where your hands once were, and for once in my life, I am forgetting you.
—  you are not me
Feet first, don’t fall (and we’ll be running again)

A/N - Poe’s getting married but whoops, Finn has a confession to make which fucks everything up. Damn, Finn, you sure have some great timing. Title from Roman Holiday by Halsey.

“There, uh, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time, and I feel like I have to get it off my chest now, because if I don’t say it now, then I never will, and I’m not expecting anything of you, I just need to tell you.” Finn rambled, standing awkwardly in the uncomfortable tux. Poe laughed at his nervous blabbering and cut him off.

“Finn, just say it, you can tell me anything.” Poe grinned widely and Finn’s heart ached.

“I’m in love with you.” Finn blurted out and Poe stumbled back like he’d been punched in the gut. “I know my timing is shit, and I should have told you years ago, and now you’re getting married, and I don’t expect you to change that. I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I love you. And I’m sorry for not telling you before.” Finn explained, while Poe watched him with a somewhat shell-shocked expression.

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