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*gritting my teeth* the only way out is through and by god im taking all of you with me

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This may seem silly but this is what I needed to hear in 2016, so I’m going to say it now. It’s okay to feel hopeless or angry or scared or betrayed or even just mildly nauseous. However you feel is the right reaction for you. You’re just not allowed to kill yourself. You are too good, too valuable, too important for this to be the thing that takes you. Yes the world is a mess, but taking one good person out of it isn’t going to make it any better.

So take care of yourself. Wrap yourself in that blanket. Get that hug. Eat that mug cake. Find your life preserver whatever it may be and keep going. You are stronger than you realize.

Deciding to do something when you’re feeling defeated is hard. If all you can take care of is you today, focus on doing that. Tomorrow or a week from now you can look at what your community needs to do to weather the storm in the long term. Yes communities are hurting now, but having to grieve one more person isn’t going to make anyone’s life any better. Please keep going. Please don’t let this election take you too.

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reblog if you need a hug

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hey if you're trans in the us i love you. hey if you're queer in the us i love you. hey if you're a person of color in the us i love you. hey if you're a woman in the us i love you. hey if you're disabled in the us i love you. i love you i love you i love you

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alright folks i’m calling it quits bc i have a 9am lab tmr and i need my beauty sleep, but i’ll leave you all with a final destielection meme:

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my bf has many interesting stories and observations from his new job as a 911 operator

my favorite is how meandering people are, even in the midst of a terrible emergency

they respond to “what is the emergency” with “well, the thing is, four weeks ago–”

and then he’s like “WHAT IS THE EMERGENCY RIGHT NOW”

and they’re like “so what happened this morning was, i said to my wife, i said–”

“WHAT IS CURRENTLY HAPPENING AT THIS MOMENT”

“oh i’m having a heart attack”

my second favorite is how specific he has to get sometimes

like, “what is your emergency?”

“i’m sitting in a pool of blood.”

“… is it… your blood?”

“yes i think so”

“do you know where it’s coming from?”

“probably the stab wound”

“have you been stabbed?”

“oh yah definitely”

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studied that guy

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dying @ the fact that Blackest Night: Batman #3, where tim has to fight off the evil reanimated corpses of both his parents and their murderer, Adventure Comics (2009) #3, where tim sees kon for the first time after his resurrection and has a nervous breakdown in the parisian sewers, and Red Robin #5, where tim almost gets assassinated & loses his damn spleen, all came out on the exact same day. october 14 2009 first international tim drake fucking struggles day

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how’s everyone doin tonight i just broke tumblr

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reblog for something t4t to happen to you this summer.

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tumblr please let me reblog ads

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Scary boyfriend privilege? No. Scary sons privilege.

Bruce who can’t go anywhere without his newly adopted ward. He follows Bruce like a sunny shadow, grin always in place.

“Dick, can I hold your hand when we cross the street?”

Dick, very sweetly, “No.”

Bruce sighs, but accepts easily. Some guy scoffs at that and asks Bruce if he’ll let his kid just talk to him like that. His kid. His heart hurts in a very good way.

He’s about to say something, but Dick interrupts him, his teeth bared full, “Weren’t you on the news for hitting an old lady with your car?”

Bruce freezing. Dick goes back to his gameboy. They hold hands when they cross the street.

It’s both scary and comforting how little he changes when he’s an adult.

Jason, on the other hand.

Although he refuses to admit it, he does follow Bruce around, too, when his dad actually has to leave the manor. It’s when Alfred says he needs sun.

“You signed a contract, sir.”

Bruce sighing, “I signed it when I was 4. In black crayon. Those don’t count.”

Damian gasped, as if discovering a vile fact, sending an accusing glare Bruce’s way. “They don’t?”

Bruce needs an excuse to haul ass fast and that’s how Jason ends up chaperoning his socially awkward, disaster of a father in his quest to pick up food.

He’s a titanic presence next to Bruce, glaring off whoever stares a little too long or too appreciatively, strong arms crossed and his eyes hard and sharp.

Bruce gently taps his bicep and he hates the way he melts. “Do you want the chicken nuggets with or without apple slices?”

“Without.”

“Jay.”

“FINE.”

Give Jason his “he asked for No pickles” moment. It has to embarrass Bruce enough to jump in traffic, thought.

Damian has his own league and none of them can really compete with it. I think, during parent’s night, he drags Bruce off to proudly showcase his gallery of portraits.

Bruce is very moved when he realizes they’re almost all him.

There’s portraits of Dick, too, and Alfred, and a comically bad one of Tim. “Damian, they’re very beautiful. Thank you.”

“I painted them with the blood of your enemies.”

“…Thank you.”