tears all over the screen

I wasnt going to write today but....

More for my new Tony/Bucky fic. Can’t stop thinking about little scenes between them, so enjoy some Tony/Bucky fluff.
Also, I know this song tends to be Supernatural, and maybe I won’t use this exact one but it’s pretty so here you go
It was quiet in the lab, because Tony didn’t really listen to music anymore. It just reminded him of better times which made him want to cry.

And he was just… done… shedding tears over all this.

He put his tools down, powered down his screens and collapsed onto the worn out couch he kept in the corner, closing his eyes and wishing for sleep.
But he didn’t do things like that anymore… cry. Sleep. Listen to music… Smile. Not anymore.

He heard the whir of machinery before he realized someone was there, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Bucky spoke.


“Getting real tired of you lurking around my lab, Barnes.”

The soldier didn’t apologize or anything, just sat his heavy ass down on the couch, and Tony huffed in annoyance.

“Get out of my bubble. Irritating.”

“When was the last time you slept, Tony?”

“That’s…not your business. Whether I’m sleeping isn’t really– it’s just– you know what? My sleeping habits are neither here nor there so why don’t you–”

“Come ‘ere.” Bucky extended his hand, his left hand, and Tony reached for him before he even realized what he was doing, then tried to jerk away. “Nope, c'mon ya already started to, just c'mon.”
Cool metal fingers closed around Tony’s wrist and pulled unrelentingly until Tony was perched awkwardly on his lap. “Relax, won’t ya?”

“I literally can’t relax. Or escape, apparently so–”

“Hush.” Bucky wrapped both arms around Tony and tucked him closer to his chest, then began to sing in a low voice,

Carry on my wayward son,
For there’ll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don’t you cry no more

“I love that song.” Tony said, refusing to think about why he was choking up.

“I figured.” Was all Bucky said, and he shifted so Tony was lying more against him, and kept singing.
Steve came down to the lab looking for Tony the next morning because he’d missed breakfast.

“FRIDAY.” He said politely, because that’s just how he was. “Would you unlock the lab doors so I can check on Tony.”

“'Fraid not, Cap'n.” The accented voice of the AI responded. “Sir is busy now, nearly tied up as it were. But he is well taken of, so run along now.”

Steve frowned a little at her odd answer but left anyway.

Inside the lab, Bucky glanced up at the ceiling. “Uh, thank ya ma'am.”

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes.” FRIDAY replied, and Bucky looked back down at the sleeping pile of Tony still curled in his arms. He shifted just enough so he could run his fingers through Tony’s hair, then started singing quietly again.

Carry on my wayward son,
For there’ll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don’t you cry no more

Just keep reading, you'll understand...

I just read a post from @sharaxofficial and I’m very disappointed in those people who accused her of copyrighting Tokyovania. Honestly, I know she said that she didn’t mind her being mentioned in the description if someone posted her Tokyovania as Ink’s theme, or something like that, sorry, but still. She deserves the credit. This goes for everything else, not just music. Like my art and millions out there. You wouldn’t want your hard work out there then people accusing you of stealing it, would you? I can understand if they were misunderstood and all that, but please, you need to check your sources before you accuse. Like SharaX said herself in her post, she posted the Tokyovania video before the videos of Ink’s theme of that music came out. Now I don’t wanna get mad or personal or anything, but people out there who did accuse her and many others out there, maybe you should consider thinking and looking before you accuse. After reading the lyrics and their meanings for Tokyovania Control in SharaX’ post, I cried just reading them. I could sorta understand SharaX’ sadness of having to face Tokyovania when people think that it belongs to Ink and only Ink. I listened to Tokyovania Control when it first came out and I didn’t understand what the lyrics meant, and now seeing why she chose those, I feel guilty for not noticing something. She suffered and when she looked to us for help, all we did was crush her down more, and I’m sorry I couldn’t have been there to at least help even though I know I wouldn’t be anything compared to the hate, I wish I could’ve helped her and defended her. That is no way to talk to anyone, especially the composer of the original song. Like, right now, I’m crying just typing this with tears all over my face and screen thinking of how SharaX must’ve felt being stabbed like that. I know she isn’t the only one out there, this goes out to those who suffered too, and not just music, but in art, writing, everything else because when you put your heart and soul into something and later realize that you’re being accused of stealing it makes you feel so bitter. Although I’m not that popular, I’ve already had some of my artworks stolen and when I went to confront them, the people who followed that person accused me of stealing my own artwork. It’s dark, so dark when you get that one comment that accuses you of stealing something you yourself worked on. I just hope that this can go out to others, so please, I’d really appreciate it if this was reblogged or something so it’s able to spread. And if SharaX doesn’t want me to spread this, then I won’t. Just, I love her music so much, it’s what keeps me going, her awesome as hell music, that helps me keep going towards my dream of an artist, and I think that she needs more love than she’s ever had. She’s suffered and we all know that everyone’s suffered at least once, and we all need to be there for those people, whether or not we like it. I hope this doesn’t offend some people, it’s just, it’s sad to know that someone has suffered who you appreciate and look up to and you can’t do anything to help….



Sleeping neji AU, the loveliest princess in all the lands + T10 fairies. TY gabzilla-z & matchaball for this treasure oh my god ……..I had to take like a 20 min break before finishing these drawings

At Least I Didn't Think For A While - SamxReader

Summary: You had a really, really bad day. Sam takes care of you the way nobody else will when you can’t stop thinking and everything’s a little too much. (basically a bucket-ton of fluff and niceness)

Words: 3,248

Notes: i wrote this the other day when i felt super duper shitty and welp i accidentally wrote 3k words of sam taking care of reader. i didnt know if i was gonna post it but the wonderful @rayesgamingtrash needed some entertainment so here ya go. hope it isn’t suuuper bad! this is my first ever reader fic, so feel free to give feed-back and whatnot! also its midnight and i only edited it now so brace yourself for mistakes galore. okie, hope you enjoy! (also im on mobile so no fancy italics and bolds and read mores)


It was so obvious that you’d been crying. It was impossibly obvious that you’d been bawling your eyes out in a bathroom stall. You’d tried to convince yourself that Sam was oblivious to tear-stained cheeks and sniffles, but he was better at reading you than you gave him credit for. It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d come home crying, and it was usually because of the same people.
Today had been hard, and you knew it would’ve gone 50 times smoother if you’d refused to go to dinner with your family. You would’ve been able to stay in bed late with Sam and then go on a walk, as planned. However, the guilt and anxiety had gotten to you and before you knew it you were asking them what time they planned to pick you up at. It had been fine for the first half an hour or so. Sure, you were feeling extremely anxious about the pale blue dress and heels you had been told to wear, but that happens all the time, so you’d gotten used to it. What sent you into a downward spiral was when your mother spoke about how she was tired no matter how many hours of sleep she got, and your Dad said “that’s called laziness”, and you almost broke right then and there. You could practically feel him staring at you. It only got worse from that moment. Everybody was giving you these strange looks as you ate in the restaurant, as you hadn’t been to a family meal in months and you’d flipped out in front of quite a few people when it was brought up in conversation. Your father got angry every time you didn’t participate in conversation and then got angry when you did, which was something you’d never understand. He treated you like a child, telling you to eat, to not make a mess, to stop being so moody, to “act happy for once”. Then, your mother brought up relationships, and made some rude side-comment about Sam and you dropped your fork in shock and anger. You retreated to your 13 and 14 year old cousins at the other side of the table from that point, who were able to cheer you up slightly. They were playing on their Nintendo DS’s and found joy in watching you play.
Once dinner was over you made sure to state loud and clear that Sam was picking you up, just loud enough for your mother to hear, but just quiet enough to keep your voice from cracking in slight fear. Your family drove off - not until after your cousins tackled you with hugs, which almost turned the day around - and you hurried into the bathroom, locking yourself in a stall, only realizing then that you didn’t plan to have Sam pick you up and didn’t want him to, either. You couldn’t stop thinking about how pathetic you were. You didn’t even have the guts to admit that you felt especially shitty today to Sam, one of the only people you trust with your life. The thoughts showed their ugly faces, and even though these thoughts were a common occurrence, they never hurt less.
After half an hour, you emerged from the bathroom and started the 25-minute walk from the restaurant to your apartment, holding your heels in your hand.
The clock in the lobby read 9:03pm and you cursed to yourself, wishing that it was later so that Sam might be asleep and you wouldn’t have to face him. You trudged up the stairs, constantly rubbing at your eyes and scratching at your wrists and the backs of your hands. You shakily grabbed your keys from a pocket on your dress and opened the door as quietly as you could. You only opened it slightly, just enough for you to slip through. You carefully placed your heels next to the door, next to Sam’s worn-out boots, and looked around. The TV was off and thankfully Sam wasn’t waiting for you. You were about to fall onto the couch when your phone buzzed in your pocket.
’(Y/N), I plan on getting to meet this “Sam” figure soon in the future. I feel like I need to, based on what your mother has been telling me. Your mother and I also plan on talking to you about your behavior today. You were in such an awful mood and you ruined the entire day for all of us. You need to tell us what’s wrong with you, because from I can see you just refuse to co-operate with anything and love ruining happy occasions. Will talk to you again soon. Dad.’
At this point, all you could hear was static. Your phone slipped from your hand and clattered to the floor, probably smashing or cracking in the process. You felt a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes, and you just couldn’t do it anymore. The thoughts came back again. Worthless. Stupid. Unneeded. Weak. Useless. You could die and nobody would care. You’d be doing everyone a favour if you just dropped dead. You wouldn’t ruin your parents lives, Sam would have somebody better, who treats him like he deserves to be treated. You’re a fucking waste of space. They all wanted to know what was wrong, but didn’t they think you’d try and tell somebody if you knew?
You were subconsciously running to the bathroom. A door somewhere else in the apartment opened.
Your hand covered your mouth and tears ran down your cheeks as you coughed out sobs. You slammed the bathroom door shut but didn’t dare lock it in case you lacked the energy to unlock it again. You glanced at yourself in the mirror and pulled at your hair, ruining the curls you’d spent an hour getting right. You heard Sam, calling out, calling your name, but you didn’t have the energy to tell him to leave you alone.
You leaned against the wall across from the sink, collapsing down against it, trying to stop yourself from coughing and crying. Sam doesn’t deserve this burden. Sam could be off in a fancy city in a fancy apartment, snuggled up on the couch with a girl with a small waist and big boobs and a thigh gap and a nice ass and perfect hair and beautiful eyes and straight teeth and-
All in all, he could be snuggling with anybody but you.
And so came the age-old question: why the fuck did Samuel Drake chose you?
You didn’t know how long you’d been sitting there when the bathroom door clicked open. It was probably mere seconds, maybe a few minutes if Sam had looked for and checked your phone. All you knew was that your dress was drenched with water and your throat and eyes hurt. You didn’t dare look up. You didn’t want to see the disappointment covering Sam’s face. You simply rubbed your eyes again and again, as if you wanted to disguise how you felt.
You felt hands cup your cheeks and taking one look at Sam made you start crying all over again. He didn’t look disappointed, he just looked sad. You couldn’t keep eye contact and as soon as tears left your eyes, Sam brought you toward him and you wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He ran his hand gently through your hair. It was so quiet, but you didn’t mind, because Sam’s steady breathing cancelled out your crying. Sam slipped his hands under your thighs and you felt him pick you up, carrying you out of the bathroom.
‘Couch or bed?’ Sam said gently.
'Couch,’ you mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt, your voice just a whisper, cracking and wavering. He moved over to the couch and laid you down onto it, placing a pillow under your head. Sam sat on his knees in front of you,  gently pushing your hair out of your eyes, studying your face.
'Do you want to talk about it?’ Sam whispered, running one hand through your hair and cupping your cheek with the other.
You really wanted to tell Sam what happened, but you wouldn’t be able to do it without tearing up all over again. You saw your phone on the coffee table, screen cracked, and you assumed Sam has read the texts. You wished the phone would’ve just snapped in half so the message would be lost forever.
So, unable to tell Sam that you didn’t want to talk about anything for a while, you just shook your head, and Sam just smiled. God, you were so lucky to have him.
'I’ll go order some takeout, okay? I’ll be back before you know it,’ Sam assured you, leaning down and kissing you on the forehead, brushing your hair out of the way. You didn’t take your eyes off Sam as he hurried into the bedroom, snatching his phone from the bedside table.
'Hi, uh, one box of salt and pepper chicken, one box of egg-fried rice, a lemonade and a strawberry milkshake, please.’ Sam peeked out from the bedroom and looked straight at you, giving you a smile that said “everything’s going to be okay”. He must’ve only noticed your tear-stained dress then, because he spun around and rooted in your dresser, taking out the fluffiest and comfiest pyjamas you owned. He grabbed a pair of clean socks and a hair brush for good measure.
'Yup, Sam Drake. You guys have my address, I think. That’s awesome, thank you. Okay, bye.’
You tossed his phone onto the bed and immediately returned to your side.
'Do you want to change?’ Sam asked. You nodded and pushed yourself up into sitting position. You fumbled and fidgeted with the zip on your dress, feeling too weak to actually pull it down.
'Want me to do it?’ Sam said,  placing your change of clothes onto the floor beside him. It astounded you sometimes how the simplest of actions made you feel so much better. You nodded meekly and Sam scooted closer to you. You held your arms up to let Sam unzip the dress at the sides. He handed you the pyjama bottoms and you placed them gently beside you.
Standing up, Sam grabbed the bottom of your dress and lifted it up over your head, wrapping it up in a bundle. He took the pyjama top in his hands and pulled it down over you, dropping back to his knees as you managed to put on the pyjama pants, which was a miracle in itself.  
You scooted along the couch a bit and patted the space behind you, looking down at Sam. He pushed himself up and onto the couch, stretching out his legs on either side of you, allowing you to lie back against his chest. He handed you the socks and you pulled them on as he took the hairbrush in his hand. He pulled the brush through your hair as gently as he could, as if you were a fragile artifact.
Once you were fully dressed, you simply laid against his chest as he brushed your hair. After twenty minutes of you two simply sitting there, the doorbell rang. Sam took your hand and brought it up to his mouth, planting a gentle kiss against your skin before slowly rising from the couch.
You turned slightly to watch Sam grab money from his wallet and open the front door. He handed the woman the money due and took the food in his arms, closing the door with his foot before making his way back over to you. He laid the boxes and bags out across the coffee table.
'Which do you want first?’ You had gotten used to being silent, so when Sam asked what you wanted, you simply pointed to the labels.
Sam grabbed the egg-fried rice for you and he grabbed salt and pepper chicken for himself. He fell down onto the couch and wrapped his legs around you again, handing you your box.
'If you want me to help- No, not help, just if you can’t manage-’ Sam spluttered, and you felt your heart swell. You knew Sam was being picky with his wording because he didn’t want to make you feel weak or incapable.
To let him know you understood, you settled in his lap and tilted your head back toward him, giving the biggest attempt you could at a smile. You opened your rice with shaky hands, grabbing the fork that came with it. You would’ve liked nothing more than for Sam to help you again, but knowing him, this was probably his first proper meal since breakfast. You both tucked into your food. Sam finished his in about 10 minutes while you were pushing yours around with your fork. Sam noticed this, of course, and rested his chin on your shoulder. 'Not hungry?’
You just shrugged. In all honesty, you hadn’t really touched your food at the restaurant, and you weren’t exactly hungry now.
'I dunno,’ you mumbled. It hurt to talk.
'When was the last time you actually ate?’ Sam said, planting a kiss on your shoulder.
You put down your rice box and fiddled with your hands. 'Breakfast, I think.’
'I’ll just put your food in the fridge, and I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow morning. How does that sound, sweetheart?’
You nodded as Sam rubbed your arms gently, warming you up. You could barely speak at normal volume and you weren’t that bothered to try. 'Sounds good.’
It was silent for a little while. Sam was rubbing your arms and then reaching down and holding your hands. With nothing to do, the thoughts came back, and you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about the day’s events, and you couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer.
'Sam?’ you mumbled, breaking the silence. 'Why did you choose me?’
Sam was silent for a second. He’d stopped rubbing your hands with his thumbs and you felt anxiety creeping up on you again. 'Choose you for what, (Y/N)?’
You sighed and pulled your hands away from his, subconsciously scratching them again. Sam was looking straight at you but you didn’t dare look at him. 'You…You could be anywhere else, with a beautiful, smart, funny and confident girl, who is equal to you, who treats you like you deserve to be treated. I-I just don’t get what you saw in me, I don’t know why you stick around. All I see is that I’m…stupid and worthless and I could…I could just drop off the face of the earth and nobody would care at all-’
Shit. Shit, you said it. You should’ve just stopped talking, now Sam’s going to get freaked out and he’s going to up and leave you like everyone else did-
'Hey, hey, (Y/N), look at me, okay?’
Sam’s voice was soothing and you turned around to face him properly for the first time that evening. He was wearing a dark red button-up and pyjama pants. His hair was a little all over the place, and he looked calm. He was calmer now than you’d been in a long time, and you envied him for it. You tried to keep eye contact but you kept looking down into your lap.
Sam slowly tilted your chin up with his index finger, and you tried your hardest to look him in the eyes.
’(Y/N), I know that none of this will be easy, and that it isn’t something that can just go away, but I’ll be here for you and I’m not going anywhere. You’re perfect for me. You’re way more than I deserve and I love you so, so much, okay?’
You could feel your heart breaking, because as much as you wanted to believe what Sam was saying, you just couldn’t stop yourself from thinking he was lying. From early on in life you’d convinced yourself that compliments are lies, and that people don’t mean what they say. You didn’t know why. It just happened.
But then you thought about all the wonderful memories you had of you and Sam, and the amount of times he’d told you he’d never leave your side, and how he took such good care of you when you couldn’t have felt worse, and how almost every morning he calls you beautiful, and you just completely broke.
You fell against his chest with a thud and wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could, your ear over his heart as you shut your eyes and felt tears stain your cheeks again. Sam reacted almost immediately, pulling you against his chest, smoothing your hair with one hand while rubbing your back with the other.
'It’s okay, I’m here,’ Sam assured you, not letting go until you did. He twirled your hair in his fingers, wiped away your tears, caressed your face, and ran his hands down your arms while whispering what he loved about you, until you looked up at him and gave him an oh-so-weak smile that assured him that he had done something right that night.
You leaned against his chest but didn’t cry anymore; you didn’t need to, because Sam’s gentle touches and loving words outweighed any negative thought you had previously tried to burn to the ground. You wondered for a bit how different your life would’ve been if Sam had appeared when you were younger and had been able to outweigh the bad thoughts then, but when Sam spoke you forgot what you were thinking about and focused entirely on him.
'Hey, did I ever tell you about the time me and Nathan almost got arrested for sneaking onto a boat?’
You surprised yourself by chuckling. It was weak and shaky, but it was there. The sound seemed so foreign, even though you remembered falling against the kitchen counter laughing yesterday morning with Sam, after he spent 30 minutes making pancakes only to drop them on the floor. 'Uh…No? How exactly-’
'Okay, okay, so - We were both kinda drunk, and we were walking along the dock of this gorgeous town in…doesn’t matter where it was, I forget. Anyway, we’re walking along and apparently there’s some history festival going on in town and what do I see in the dock? A pirate ship! A frickin pirate- and yeah, it was obviously made for the event, and it’s ten times smaller than any of the real ones, but it was still there! And of course I go cuckoo for a bit until Nathan starts to climb on board - and this thing didn’t look that sturdy! But I said, y'know what, screw it, and I followed him on board. We both lost our minds for a while and Nathan had to stop me from singing some sea shanties, but here we were, and Nathan was threatening to pull out of the dock…’
Soon after, Sam paused, hearing your steady breathing against his chest, arms still wrapped around him. He chuckled, brushing your hair back from your face, planning to ask you in the morning if his stories were that boring. He spread out on the couch and held you against his chest, as the couch was just big enough for you both. Soon after that he closed his eyes and slept, your smile and his love for you filling his mind, and his caring nature, gentle touches and loving words filling yours.

I am dead serious Klainers, please just be honest with me

I swear, I am at the point where I was not even mad about the Klaine marriage because as a fan of Kurt I already knew that Klaine was getting married and I have the right to feel happy and secure about their divorce that will no doubt be happening between them. 

Anyways, this is not about how much me and you klainers opinions over Klaine but more about Kurt Hummel and how we are all suppose to be his fans. Like I know I am his fan, like I stan him hard, I do not ship Klaine so my opinions over Blaine story line, I do not care, but Kurt’s? Yeah, I really care a lot. Do you?

Do you really care at all? All I see is tears over a wedding and about 4000 screen shots of pics of the ring on Kurt’s finger. Why is it so great that Kurt ran back to Lima, that he cried TWICE in the same episode over Blaine? Like I can understand that Klaine is your OTP, even if Kurt stayed single in New York instead of dating like Chris and Kurt fans wanted him to do in season 6, do you klainers not feel upset at all that Kurt whole story line was Blaine, Klaine and Rachel?

 Like did you guys not want him auditioning for Broadway and musicals like Kurt have wanted to do since season 1? Or how about him being at Vogue and working hard to get his designs seen and be in a fashionb show or have his clothes be worn on the Run way? 

RIB said season 6 is what the ‘fans’ wanted to see. Obviously they do not care about Chris or Kurt fans feelings or opinions, so they gave you klaine fans your klaine, Chris stated what he wanted for Kurt and he did not get one thing.

I am sure he and many of his fans is upset by Kurt’s ending. You guys got your Klaine and pics of Chris wearing that ring, but what about Kurt Hummel as a person? He lost himself once his story line became nothing but Blaine and helping Rachel and it makes me sick to my stomach. 

I could have ignored Kurt being married if they would have gave Kurt an ON SCREEN career and success. We got to see Rachel do rehearsals, solos, and scenes for her story line and career, Blaine sings a lot all the time and you guys know this. But we never get Kurt singing in solos and he do not get to sing ANY duiets with anyone else other than Blaine or have big lines and roles in group singing numbers. He only get Klaine screen time or his scene being about Blaine or Klaine in some way or another unless he is helping Rachel and it is not fair.

I blame you guys for this, Glee gave the Klaine fans what they wanted, even if they draggeed the Klaine story out, you guys are still getting it. And for what? Are you guys so selfish that you do not care that Chris obviously had high hopes for Kurt’s story line for the last season of Glee?

 Do you not feel bad for screaming about Klaine while the actor and character you claim to love wanted Kurt’s story to be more about Kurt being a young adult and getting his career and dreams together and instead he only gets Blaine and Klaine? Klaine have been shown as nothing good this season. I am really just ashamed that you guys claim to be fans yet care not one sent about his story ending because you have your precious Klaine. 

Chris Colfer deserves better and to be treated with respect by people who claim to love him and his character. Chris did not get opne single thing for Kurt he asked for and you guys do not care. 

Do you even honestly care about Chris or Kurt? Or is it just Klaine? Be honest, if you cared Kurt story would have been about Kurt instead of just Klaine. You guys must be so proud of yourself, you got what you want while Kurt and Chris got nothing, that after 6 seasons of building up Kurt’s story line since season 1, for having Kurt fail over and over again time and time again while fighting so hard to be some body, to escae Lima, to be in the spotlight on stage where he belonged. Kurt has been dreaming of the stage since season 1 just like Rachel Berry, you guys know that right?

Oh wait, I forgot…. You guys have not watched season one or just do not care. As far as you guys are concerned, Kurt’s dream and goal for 6 seasons was to Marry Blaine.