#unclegreenarrow

[notthiscrap-blog]

it's your birthday?! Happyyyyyy birthdayyy!!!!

ahhh thank you >//u//<

[notthiscrap-blog]

Your crap isn't crap, it's gorgeous and adorable!

Thank you so much sweetie, you're too kind ;;//A// ;; *hugs*

[notthiscrap-blog]

you're worrying to much, You won't disappoint us, just do what you always do c:

Awww that's very sweet of you, thank you ; u ;

[pg-central]

Hey guys guess which movie I just watched? Euro Trip! I finally watched it Ollie!

[notthiscrap-blog]

Quick doodle before bed, requested by unclegreenarrow ;u ; 

[voyagershark]

Sam D: Het is laat maar kwil nog niet slapen. Vermaak me, schrijf een Boostle slaapverhaaltje pleaseee c:

HAHAHAHAHAAA 

A shaky sigh passed his lips as a hand reached up to wipe his cheek. No, he wasn't crying. He wasn't. Of course he wouldn't cry, he's a superhero. He has seen horror happen day in day out, this was nothing new. A hand tightened around a picture frame, clutching on to it as if it was very important, because it was... no it is. The hand that was wiping away the tears he refuse to acknowledge, he isn't fucking crying dammit, covered his eyes in a vain attempted to shield it away from what they have witnessed. A strangled sob escaped him, one he had tried to swallow back down, not wanting to admit to himself how weak he is feeling right now. God. This wasn't suppose to have happened. He refused to admit it. As he tried to keep his shoulders from shaking so much, he let his body fall back down on a mattress. so tired. he felt so damn tired. He held on to the picture frame, as he let his eyes close and his body relax, or at least as much as he could in his state. What if he just let sleep come over him, and wake up with the other beside him? Feeling the others body heat against his own, waking up to that lazy smile. A hand reaching out to stroke back some off the hair that was in his face. He buried his face into the pillow, clutching on to the memories of waking up within the others arms.

though, as much as he tried to lie to himself, he knew it wasn't going to happen. The only thing he would wake up too for the rest of his life was an empty side of the bed, a cold place to touch to remember of what was and never will be again. 

ik weet niet wat ik doe, ga janken c: