artcopes-blog - Tumblr blog

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@hopewielding replied to your post.

but for how long

hm!! i guess someone doesn’t want her reply :/

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rises from the grave HELLO I’VE RETURNED

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ok so i’ve got homework to do but after i’ve finished it i’ll be here to do replies and starters  ♥

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oceansburned:

         “ PROBABLY.  But she doesn’t really like me all that much, you know,  being a vigilante and all.  You’re here to help though, right? ”

                 ❛   what do you need me to do  ?   ❜

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oceansburned:

lyric starter for @artcopes  |  ❬ song: simulation - tkay maidza ❭

         “ And will you be here when we start finding what we’re searching for? ”

                  ❛   yeah  ------  but shouldn’t you be talking to my aunt about this  ?   ❜

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vexahliaderolo:

i love soft mutual pining roadtrip aus because they boil down to “local dumbasses need to travel thousands of miles together in a cramped vehicle and needlessly share shitty motel beds in order to finally admit they’re in love with each other”

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u know what !!  like this for a starter  after i finish my portfolio stuff for the day

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u know what !!  like this for a starter  after i finish my portfolio stuff for the day

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d.iscord drop while i do my verses !!

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#sad little angel.

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@unwaveringjustice replied to your post.

people always leave…

i can’t believe this

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@unwaveringjustice replied to your post.

Kate is the vodka hipster aunt with good taste in design and art

peyton has a new fave aunt now sorry mags

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fierceli:

❝  well,  if  you  had  paid  attention  the  first  time  i  explained  it  to  you  you  would  know.  ❞      tone  takes  on  the  sound  of  her  irritation,  hazel  hues  rolling  in  pursuit  of  the  harmless  bite.      peyton’s  disregard  is  easily  forgiven  if  only  because  she’s  dying  to  discuss  the  situation  responsible  for  the  flair  of  her  theatrical  turmoil.      (  as  usual,  it  isn’t  as  critical  as  she  makes  it  seem.  )      ❝  now,  back  to  what  i  was  saying  -  not  that  you  know  what  that  is  -  remember  how  i  told  you  i  was  going  to  ask  the  coach  about  upgrading  our  uniforms ?      yeah,  well,  she  wasn’t  against  the  idea,  but  apparently  the  school’s  budget  is  a  little  tight  after  some  renovations  they  had  to  do  and  they  can’t  afford  it,  so  i  got  to  thinking  :  what  if  we,  we  being  the  squad,  host  a  fundraiser ?  ❞

               ❛   okay,    ❜       it’s just a simple, quickly uttered word without much   enthusiasm  behind it, still rolling the idea around in her head. much more  inspirited,  comes her  WHOLEHEARTED  agreement just   two seconds  later  ---      ❛   okay,  YEAH  !   let’s do it  !   but no car washes in our uniforms, okay  ?  i love you, brooke, but no.   ❜    her teeth catch her lower lip and her eyes roll up in thought, sifting through a ton of completely  lame  ideas before she finds one  worthy  of a mention.  eyes wide with the  ENTHUSIASM  she had initially lacked,  she balls her fists to focus the sudden excited energy,    ❛   OH  !   what about a  ‘fight night’  ?   ❜

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It’s hard being left behind… It’s hard to be the one who stays.

Audrey Niffenegger, The Time Traveler’s Wife (via thelovejournals)

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d.iscord drop while i do my verses !!

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unwaveringjustice:

           She’s folding laundry when the buzzer for the elevator sounds, and answers it thinking it must be a package for Kate, something she’s ordered online that needs to be signed for. She barely glances at the image of the young girl caught by the security camera, and her greeting – “Maggie Sawyer, can I help you?” – is just a notch above robotic. The “aunt” brings her up short, startling her out of the practiced, monotonous motions; it’s been a long, long time since she’s been called that.

          Baffled, her eyes hastily scan the video, but she doesn’t recognise the nervous teenager fidgeting at the elevator. But she does recognise the name. Peyton is the only child of her oldest sister, adopted when Anna and Larry hadn’t been able to conceive their own. Maggie remembers her as a blonde-haired, green-eyed eight-year-old, more creative and outspoken than any of her cousins, and the memory starts an ache in her chest for the nine years lost since. A quick calculation puts Peyton at seventeen now, probably in the last years of school. But Maggie has nothing to put her here, in Gotham, at her doorstep.

          But, whatever the reason, she won’t leave her out in the cold – definitely not in Gotham, of all places. Dread and hope constricting her chest, heart pounding, Maggie touches her finger to panel, first to let her niece in, then to transmit her voice over the speaker, her tone more brusque than she’d like, “Come on up, Peyton.”

                     There’s a moment or two there, in the   SILENCE   stretched between them,  that she wonders if Maggie remembers who she is. It’s been ages since they heard from one another, longer than that since they’ve last  seen  each other. That totally  RIDICULOUS  thought   (  because of  course  Maggie remembers her, why the hell would she even   think   that  )   is pushed aside easily enough, chased away as soon as she gets the go-ahead to enter the elevator and come up. She doesn’t even have to press a button, its doors part for her as soon as she steps forward.

                    Her arms cross loosely over her chest as the elevator closes, emitting a soft hum as it starts its ascent. This is  CRAZY,   she thinks, but what about her life lately  hasn’t  been  ?   She doesn’t even know what she’s going to say or what Maggie’s going to say or how she’s going to  REACT   after all this time. She had this whole thing mapped out in her head on the way up to Gotham   (  almost talked herself out of it, too, but a call to Brooke had kicked her ass back into it  )   but as soon as she heard her aunt’s voice over that intercom,  all that had gone straight out the window and scattered all over the lawn.

                      The elevator  CHIMES  and the doors split open once more, revealing another hallway with a door at the end. Anxiety grips her chest but she’s made up her mind   (  and it’s too late to turn back now, even if she wanted to  ),  so she crosses the hall, takes a breath, and knocks on the door.