Do you ever find yourself getting too happy? Like, you have to stop and pause and deliberately do something to sabotage yourself? Because happiness never lasts but as long as you’re self destructing and not being destroyed it’s okay?
Almost all the artists I know: *put some soft melodic music at a reasonable volume, sitting on their organized desk, with some tea or soft drink near them* Okay it’s time to draw, I gotta get in the mood, relax a little, maybe vent while it, let’s think clearly what I wanna draw or doodle…
Me: *puts speedcore at 100% , trows all art suplies into my disorganized bed, swallowing a mountain dew without breathing* FUCK YEAH BITCH LET’S DRAW PERIDOT RIDING A FUCKING PIÑATA
i want to just make this post for reassurance but does anyone actually care for my art on here and actually like seeing it? bc lately idk i’ve been down in the dumps posting on here and it feels no really cares much for it
I love angst so.... 7- How long are we going to pretend everything is OK? Thanks!
Robert’s hovering—has done for weeks. Hovers and waits, waits for things to implode, to come to there inevitable end. Because they have to right? Robert doesn’t get to keep this forever, this little sanctuary that Aaron and him have built for themselves. Something, that resembled a life, one which Robert never though he’d ever truly be able to have. Not when he was that kid, long limbed, and inexperienced, afraid of something that Aaron had made him realise was natural. This was natural—but god had it taken Robert a long time to let himself admit that, too long perhaps.
“How long are we going to pretend everything is okay?” he doesn’t mean for it to slip out. They’re on the couch, watching Graham Norton, Liv having bowed out and gone to sleep a while go. They’re sitting apart, too far apart, even Liv had noticed, and she usually doesn’t hang around long enough to notice anything, unless it’s obvious and starting her right in the face. And it was.
They’re not okay.
“What are you on about?” Aaron asks, doesn’t take his eyes off the telly. But Robert sees, sees him grip the remote just a little too tightly. He knows.
“If you want me to leave Aaron, just say the word and I’ll go—”
“No” Aaron practically shouts, cutting Robert off. He drops the remote onto the couch, and turns so his facing Robert. And Robert feels raw, curled up at the edge of the couch, knee’s pulled up, trying desperately to hold on, hold on to anything.
“I just need time Robert, but I don’t want you to leave, do you hear me? I want you to stay right here with me, okay?”
“It’s gonna take time. Your right, we’re not okay—but we will be. I just..I need time.”
Robert nods and places a hand on Aaron’s thigh. Feels the grey tracksuit materiel, soft under his touch. Aaron doesn’t pull away, like he has been doing lately, he stares back at Robert, the shadow of a smile, taking shape.
He’ll wait, and hope. Hope this nagging feeling, that sits in his stomach is wrong. That time will heal Aaron’s wounds, like broken bones. He hopes they’ll will be okay in the end. Even though, this nagging feeling tells him, Aaron will never get over what his done.
So he hopes, because that’s all he can do.
(So Liv’s in this, because I forget she isn’t around so pretend she is?)
“After everything…I’d still choose you.” - with Bucky x Reader, and can it please be angsty?
“After everything, I’d still choose you.”
Dusk descended at a leisurely summer’s pace, staining the tropical Wakandan jungle with glistening enchantment. Tranquility moved through your exhausted form as you quietly observed the vast foliage that outstretched for miles before you. The air was wet and warm, thick with the aroma of damp Earth and wildflowers. The bustling sounds of the jungle efficiently silenced the storm of uncertainty and worry that perturbed your thoughts. You were immensely grateful for the reprieve, allowing your eyes to flutter closed as you lost yourself in the beautiful Wakandan afternoon.
Following the seemingly irreparable schism between the Avengers, you found yourself tucked away with Rogers and Barnes in the concealed jungles of Wakanda. Many discussions and heated arguments ensued upon your arrival in regards to Bucky’s well-being and the best course of action for his condition. You had remained firmly planted at your boyfriend’s side, conceding his request to be cryogenically frozen. Steve had been far more reluctant, but you insisted on the fulfillment of Bucky’s wishes. Now, after months of seclusion and loneliness, you wondered if you had truly made the right decision.
“Y/N,” Steve’s voice rang through the corridor, “he’s up.”
You snapped back into reality, Steve’s announcement hitting you square in the chest like a ton of bricks. You struggled to breathe regularly as you hurriedly approached the super-soldier, following closely behind his bulking form as you entered one of the dozens of medical laboratories inside T’Challa’s facility. Earth seemed to tilt upon it’s axis, gravity holding you perfectly still as your gaze locked with Bucky’s grey-blue eyes.
Despite having spent the last six months in cryo, Bucky somehow still managed to look absolutely breathtaking. His dark brown hair fell in messy waves over his milky skin, framing his handsome features exquisitely. His eyes were swirling with emotion as they bore into yours, the hard lines of his face accentuated by a dense scruff. A small, affectionate smile tugged back the corner of his plump, pink lips.
“I’ll uh, just, give you two some space.” Steve mumbled awkwardly, motioning toward the door. He quickly shuffled out the room as you nervously approached the love of your life.
“Y/N…” Bucky’s voice was husky with fatigue, resonating thickly through the room. You fumbled to find a single, coherent response; lips parting and closing a few times whilst you remained entirely silent.
Instead, your legs carried you forward almost involuntarily toward Bucky. Your gaze remained connected with his as you approached, your heart thunderous and unrelenting in your chest. You half-lunged yourself into him, his arm wrapping around your middle and tugging you impossibly closer. Tears you didn’t know you had been biting back began spilling with no intent of stopping.
“Shh, doll, it’s okay.” Bucky whispered against your hair.
“I m-m-missed y-you.” You stammered through hot tears, body shaking violently and you gripped onto Bucky for dear life.
“I’m surprised you stayed.” Bucky’s tearful, genuine confession worsened your tears. “Stevie said you never left…” His voice tapered into silence as he placed light kisses against your hair.
“Yo-you’re my soul mate, Buck.” You paused, pulling back slightly. You searched his face, reaching up to cup it gently between your hands. “I don’t care about the fighting, or the distance, or seeing you once every six months. After everything, I’d still choose you.”
i see ur anon's glee mathletes au and i raise u my debate team au: kurt cries during his first training session bc blaine and santana are fucking RUTHLESS during debating. blaine lays out his facts well down to the statistics w/o stuttering and cuts off kurt when he's speaking w tons of difficult point of informations, santana is sarcastic n scathing when she speaks as opposition. the next session they're all teammates n they work Really really well together apparently
KURT CRYING IN THE MIDDLE OF A TV DEBATE THO LOOOOOOOOOL
they all gotta huddle up n santana is like ‘PUT ON YOUR BIG BOY PANTS AND GET IT TOGETHER’ and blaine’s rubbing his baCK consoling him TT o TT
OH MAN who would the opposing team be??? mercedes, mike and tina?? *_____*