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me acting like I just didn't read the most filthy nasty hot smut fic of my life

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shoutout to slow growers, late bloomers, people whose plans got derailed by circumstances beyond their control or their own choices, people who never had a plan to begin with, people who have had to start over when theyre too old to feel like theyre supposed to be where they are, people who cant pretend theyre built for the environment theyre in, and everyone who's not living the life they thought they would. im proud of you for making it this far and i hope you keep going until youre happy ♡

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waiting for my knight in shining armor (ibuprofen) to rescue me from the horrors (head hurty)

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Oldies

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tag your boyfriend of choice ~

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BLOG PSA FOR RYANSSANCE

url: ryanssance -> kewpiemeayo (q-pee-mayo)

name: ry -> mea (like may)

Apologies if any links are broken. Please report them as most of my navi and masterlists are updated! Everything else should be back in service by Thursday, May 5th, 10 PM (PST). Thank you for your patience and support!

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Why do all the DILFs in anime die?? 😩

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I wanna put all different kinds of art all around my room

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Attending school sucks but after a long day, I finally looked up and witnessed an amazing view.

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I still believe, even though it’s unbelievable 🌱

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I don’t understand how I have the worst luck ever

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In that moment, I’m getting farther away from the sky, I’m falling.

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I feel like I’m in a constant state of too much and not enough.

The days are passing by too fast and too slow.

I feel so overwhelmed but unbothered with my surroundings.

It’s like I’m on a rollercoaster that never stops. It just keeps going and going. At first, I enjoyed the ride! I loved the feeling of joy and excitement as the ride ascends and descends down the path. I could feel my blood pumping through my veins as I anticipated the huge drop. Even going through loops and rugged turns made my heart beat faster than ever. But eventually, I got sick of the same old motions. The ride didn’t cause me any thrill nor was there any joy in repeating the path over and over again. I’m just stuck in the cart and I can’t get off. I’m mindlessly passing through the same cycle without any thoughts or care. Reliving the ride over and over but I can’t do anything to change it. In a way, it’s quite nice to live in a constant loop but at the same time I can’t help but wonder when I’ll get off.

~C

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Thanks for the tag bean! 💜

Ooooh i love the color theme! 😍

No pressure tags: @bikoncon @pricetagofficial @doctorsteeb @screennamealreadyused

Satin Swatch Tag Game

Use your birth chart to find you satin swatch!

Tagging: @subtleappreciation @catxsara @weebsausage

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Here’s a continuation of my convo with @ryanssance​ about dreams. If you want to read the first part you can find it here. 

Okay the reason I think Tim won’t be able to dream is because of his insomnia.

Night after night of staying awake to finish cases, training, homework, or patrol, his sleeping patterns were bound to change.

Even on good days where he can sleep early, it does little to help his sleep cycle and dream stage.

He’s tossing and turning all night, body now used to sleeping throughout the day and staying awake all night.

He’s nocturnal like an owl which probably started his affinity for coffee or any form of caffeine to be honest.

Perhaps he isn’t able to dream because he never reaches REM or “deep-sleep”, or maybe he does but he absolutely cannot recall any part of it because his body is too focused on trying to fix him up in other ways.

But what if he can’t dream because he doesn’t want to?

For the same reason as to why he probably drinks coffee when he knows he can sleep.

For the way he drives himself to the ground so he can’t go into a deep sleep.

Maybe when he dreams, he has good dreams like Jason! But that’s the point. He just doesn’t want to. He can’t. The pain for him to wake up and realize that his family, his friends, and Conner are all gone.

That the ones that are here just doesn’t measure up to the people that he lost. To be happy and free of all his pain that he feels every damn day.

In a way it makes him feel guilty because he knows that the more he dreams, the more he won’t want to come back and face his true reality. It’s the idea of being distant and growing accustomed to something you know you cannot have in reality—think Inception, the movie with Leonardo DiCaprio, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Elliot Page.

With the amount of power and money that he has, he can easily buy his way to dream forever. To drug himself to the land of no return just to buy himself the very happiness he oh-so-desperately wants.

He wants to dream but he just can’t. He won’t. Not for just his sake but for the sake of his family, friends, and he’ll even do it for the sake of Gotham. 

In turn, Tim copes with his nightmares by using a creative outlet like photography.

If he really can’t sleep, he’ll sneak out of the manor with a mug filled with coffee and his camera bag.

He loves going on long drives without a real destination in mind, but he doesn’t care.

Tim’s cruising around listening to his favorite music while finding a good spot to take pictures.

If he’s driving around Gotham, he’ll pick up Jason. Jason knows every hidden corner in Gotham that even someone like Tim who had lived in Gotham his whole life would never know about (plus we all want some more bonding moments)

Tim has a sharp eye when it comes to photography. He can tell a whole story from one single photo; bringing out the smallest of details in the most common area of Gotham.

He loves the challenge of taking a “good” photo. He’s able to express his creativity by manipulating the lighting, perspective, and composition of the subject at hand.

Trying new techniques while using different types of cameras, lenses, or film stocks just keeps his mind occupied and away from the darker rooms.

He’ll even take pictures of Jason. Although Jason is very into his bad boy looks, he is secretly insecure about his appearance; normally objecting to having his photo taken, but when Tim asked if he could take a picture of him—face puffy from crying during the car ride over—he can’t help but say yes. With a slight smile, Tim would take pictures of Jason in various poses and angles.

Despite wanting to cringe at every imperfection he could point out about himself, Jason could see the talent in Tim’s work, the angle and the lighting masking just about everything Jason would usually dislike.

Jason and Tim might not get along that well, but they would always be there for each other. They would have deep talks about what their dreams mean and comfort each other when talking about their nightmares.

If Jason is on patrol or asleep for once, Tim will immediately run to Alfred.

He feels embarrassed for bothering Alfred, but no one else can give him comfort like the way Pennyworth can.

Alfred is perfect, he knows exactly how to comfort Tim based on his feelings.

If Tim comes into his room crying and panting, he will hug him and rock him slightly until Tim can breathe and settle down.

If Tim comes in with a dead set of eyes, he will take him to the kitchen and make him some tea and cookies after offering the boy a huge glass of water.

If Tim comes in looking scared and has sweat stains on his shirt, he’ll take him on a walk along the manor grounds while humming a tune.

Alfred never pushes him to talk unless he’s ready. When Tim is ready to talk, he listens and reassures him that no matter what happened in his dreams or nightmares, they are not a reflection of his faults or doings.

Thank you for reading!! :D Hope y’all enjoy!

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Here’s a little hc inspired by @ryanssance and I’s conversation about dreams. love you beann <33

I genuinely believe that Jason can dream. For all the shit Jason has gone through, we all know for a fact that he has nightmares quite often.

However, I think the only reason as to why he even lets himself sleep (other than the fact that he has to maintain his mental/physical health) is because he loves dreaming.

When he sleeps, he has the most vivid dreams of the bunch. He’ll have dreams t hat feel so real that it’s a true escape to his reality.

He probably has had good dreams with his parents and old dog. Perhaps they were little reincarnations of the good days he had with them.

He’d dream of happy days with the batfam, good times with people who had passed away, spending special time with the one he loves... the whole nine yards.

But then when he wakes up and he’s choked; frustrated at the fact that he can literally feel the dream slipping through his fingers. Seeing the wonderful people that he knows and loves falling further and further into the shade of darkness only to be awoken to a bright light shining through his curtains.

He hates waking up to his real reality—expected to go back to his life full of pain and regrets—to have his dreams linger in the back of his head for the rest of the day.

He can never seem to fully remember the dream that made him so happy and full of serenity. The feelings of being at ease…

Nothing pisses him off more to have that moment of happiness only for it to be taken away from him at the last minute.

As much as he hates the feeling of pain when he can’t remember the dream, there’s nothing worse than the feeling of waking up from a nightmare because like his dreams... he feels them more than anybody. 

If he could even savor one good dream to tie him down and remind him that the nightmares are only nightmares, he would probably sell his soul for it.

That’s when he starts to keep a journal.

Whether it was a suggestion from Alfred or the therapist he finally manages to call every once in a blue moon, he bought a relatively cheap leather-bound notebook from the bookstore he passes by all the time.

At the start of his attempt at journaling, his handwriting was messy, way messier than his usual penmanship but that’s because he spent all his effort into writing down everything he could remember before they all dissipated into the unknown. 

His writing was also botched in the sense he couldn’t quite get everything down the first dozen times because of the emphasis in pressure to recall only seemed to stress him out and send his train of thought out faster.

Eventually he started to get better at gripping his thoughts and his writing got a tad bit neater. He gradually became more patient with himself, relishing in the things he could remember.

The next step from that was filling in the gaps with his own creative imagination, even if they barely pinched exactly what had happened in dream itself, the mere reminder he could recall he would flesh it out with a more creative outlook.

Overtime, Jason built himself a mighty collection of dreams and stories that required a new journal; this brought upon a new frustration the morning his ink ran out of paper to write on. He made do with cramming his remaining thoughts in random crevices.

Roy came across said journal once, it was rather inconspicuous and unfamiliar, so he took a quick harmless peak but despite the mess the redhead just got too engulfed in the stories. He skipped over the personal bits but the dreams were interesting.

Jason came home and had snatched the journal out of Roy’s hand before he could even welcome his best friend home, angry and a little possessive of his thoughts.

Roy didn’t bother defending himself because he was so in awe with how creative his friend was, that he could only utter, “Publish this shit,” to him.

Jason was so frazzled by this statement-bordering-demand that he could only reject the idea as he took his journal to his room.

His best friend tailed him through the apartment for the next half an hour encouraging Jason to at least consider writing poetry or a collection of short stories with his innate talent for creative arts.

Jason continued to refute the idea but it did leave an impression on him. He found himself relishing in his journal later, going over the stories. Most brought him smiles, others confused him, but for the most part he found joy in being able to recall the vivid dreams as he read the words, like a reminder that just kickstarted the old-school projector in his mind.

Eventually he did start testing out on refining his jottings, attempting poetry and yeah… short stories.

Perhaps he eventually gets the confidence to read them out loud to Roy or Alfred

In a better world that clearly only exists in our minds, he publishes under a pseudonym (for obvious reasons) and becomes a famous but faceless author/poet :) 

Thanks for reading! I might do more of these... who knows ;)

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Omggg Kai you’re the cutest 🥰 I love cards like these. Thank you honey! Happy Valentine’s Day! 💜💜💜