#in your twenties

[sunscreenstudies]

to all those who fear they're wasting their twenties...

“It’s taboo to admit that you’re lonely. You can make jokes about it, of course. You can tell people that you spend most of your time with Netflix or that you haven’t left the house today and you might not even go outside tomorrow. Ha ha, funny. But rarely do you ever tell people about the true depths of your loneliness, about how you feel more and more alienated from your friends each passing day and you’re not sure how to fix it. It seems like everyone is just better at living than you are. A part of you knew this was going to happen. Growing up, you just had this feeling that you wouldn’t transition well to adult life, that you’d fall right through the cracks. And look at you now. La di da, it’s happening.

Your mother, your father, your grandparents: they all look at you like you’re some prized jewel and they tell you over and over again just how lucky you are to be young and have your whole life ahead of you. “Getting old ain’t for sissies,” your father tells you wearily. You wish they’d stop saying these things to you because all it does is fill you with guilt and panic. All it does is remind you of how much you’re not taking advantage of your youth. You want to kiss all kinds of different people, you want to wake up in a stranger’s bed maybe once or twice just to see if it feels good to feel nothing, you want to have a group of friends that feels like a tribe, a bonafide family. You want to go from one place to the next constantly and have your weekends feel like one long epic day. You want to dance to stupid music in your stupid room and have a nice job that doesn’t get in the way of living your life too much. You want to be less scared, less anxious, and more willing. Because if you’re closed off now, you can only imagine what you’ll be like later. Every day you vow to change some aspect of your life and every day you fail. At this point, you’re starting to question your own power as a human being. As of right now, your fears have you beat. They’re the ones that are holding your twenties hostage. Stop thinking that everyone is having more sex than you, that everyone has more friends than you, that everyone out is having more fun than you. Not because it’s not true (it might be!) but because that kind of thinking leaves you frozen. You’ve already spent enough time feeling like you’re stuck, like you’re watching your life fall through you like a fast dissolve and you’re unable to hold on to anything. I don’t know if you ever get better. I don’t know if a person can just wake up one day and decide to be an active participant in their life. I’d like to think so. I’d like to think that people get better each and every day but that’s not really true. People get worse and it’s their stories that end up getting forgotten because we can’t stand an unhappy ending. The sick have to get better. Our normalcy depends upon it. You have to value yourself. You have to want great things for your life. This sort of shit doesn’t happen overnight but it can and will happen if you want it. Do you want it bad enough? Does the fear of being filled with regret in your thirties trump your fear of living today? We shall see.” - Ryan O'Connell

[enchanted--realm]

It's just me and my emotional support playlist against the world

[fewwordsmanyriddles]

In a decade or two and eight, I still feel like an eight.

[1eos]

the glorification of your 20s and fear of anything else has got to stop. mainly bc your 20s is quite literally the worst decade of your life the idea that ppl think you peak at 25 has me so sad for them

[arkangelo-7]

The dichotomy of Batman and Robin is so fucking funny because on one hand you have a brooding, dramatic millennial with a rigid moral compass and a sense of extensional dread, and on the other you have an emotional support child that is somehow the literal embodiment of both sunshine and straight-up murder.

[liorlen]

gale origin playthru from astarion’s pov or smth like that

[aworsening]

Sinking friendships

i. The Ultracheese - Arctic Monkeys / ii. Unknown / iii. Brooklyn Bridge to Chorus - The Strokes / iv. How to Save a Life - The Fray / v. @archbudzar / vi. Where Did the Party Go? - Fall Out Boy / vii. True Believer - Nicholas Sparks / viii. Tiffany Blews - Fall Out Boy

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

Homer!Odysseus and Epic!Odysseus would try to kill each other if they ever met

[were-wolverine]

peter parker: hi i’m peter and this is my boyfriend wade, wade’s boyfriend logan, logan’s boyfriend scott, and scott & logan’s girlfriend jean

[gayeddieagenda]

eddie diaz is such a special kind of tragedy for real... picture this. you're fourteen. if you were gay, it would ruin your life. but you're not gay. you meet a girl you like. you make it thru high school. you're seventeen and the girl you like goes to prom with you. things are going great. you're 19 (20? older?) and she's pregnant. okay, that's fine. you can figure it out. you're getting married. you're leaving the country in a uniform. it's fine. if you'd been gay when you were fourteen, it would've ruined your life. that's still true. if your life isn't going so hot right now either, well, that's fine. it's no big deal. so you go to war. you have a kid. you call your wife, sometimes. you come up with plans to deal with it all. you go back to the army. you get shot; you go home. your wife leaves. the plans are not going how you expected. that's okay too; you can make new plans. your life isn't ruined, not yet. you go to los angeles; you find a family bigger than just you and your kid. you start over, not once but again and again. the old traumas play again: shannon leaves. you get shot. your son is here; your son is gone. when you were fourteen, it would've ruined your life. you like your life. it's come close to being ruined a few times now, but you've made it through. you're happy. right? you have everything you need.

picture this: you're fourteen. your life would be ruined if you were gay. you've never been so sure of anything in your life. how much of your life has been built because of the things you were sure of when you were fourteen? you're not fourteen anymore. the things you were scared of back then, you keep looking for them and you aren't finding them. what are you still scared of? you're not fourteen, eddie. what are you scared of?

[bebe-benzenheimer]

Parents, please check your kids' candy this Halloween. I just found a city led by nine bishops who teach that self-destruction is the only way to paradise in my kitten's candy bar. Be safe.

[willowser]

HMMMMM bakugou being just. the absolute picture of sin.

he works overnight and comes home early in the morning, around 3 or 4 am or so, and you greet him and give him a kissy and ask how it all went. and even though it's still dark outside and he's been working for twelve hours—he's still coming off patrol, right ? so he's still got some energy left, and he eats something and takes a shower and winds down as you fall back to sleep.

and it's not until much later in the day that he wakes up, early afternoon, and you're kind of tiptoeing around so that he can get his much-needed rest. you slip into the closet of your bedroom for something and you think you're gonna get in and out without a sound, but his hearing is so attuned to just about anything and everything at this point.

so rough and raspy, he grunts out, "what're y'lookin' for?" and you whip around real fast and he's just—

half sitting up in bed, bare back leaning against the headboard. an arm behind his head, so that his bicep is tense and round and stone-solid. stretched like that, his obliques are more prominent, taut and rippling up the side of his ribcage. he must have gotten hot while passed out, as he usually does, because the comforter is all askew; one of his legs is bent, the fine hair a dark gold in the waning day; the other is hanging off the bed, lightly swinging as he watches you, and the blanket has come down enough that you can see the bulge of his thigh muscles beneath his stupid tiny black boxer briefs.

and he's just so. man. in every single way.

(his hair is flat on one side, too, and his eyes are still a little puffy from sleep—but you think that adds to it, all in all)

[f0linasahl0]

it's me. im girls

[wizard-legs]

Imagine, if you will, my horror during the naming of the year, halfway through sketching up a bunch of fungalores, hearing the brothers propose banning fanart of fungalore… luckily the horror lasted about 30 seconds as they elected as a council that fanart of the deity of the year would be permitted. Audible sigh of relief

[zephyrchama]

Make barbatos fanfics pls

The memory of your recent mishap kept playing in your mind. It was a complete mistake - you hadn't intended to drench Barbatos in tea. Despite him being more than capable of protecting himself, you foolishly attempted to shield him from whatever toxic concoction Solomon was cooking up. One thing led to another, a massive pot fell over, there was an ear-deafening clang, and Barbatos was on the ground. Sopping wet.

He wasted no time in excusing himself to clean off, leaving you to bear the weight of your sins. Anyone could have easily cleaned the mess with magic, but Barbatos instead opted for a shower for some peace and quiet to calm down. Solomon was left to scrub the floor by hand since he started this issue in the first place.

As all of the castle's linens had been conveniently gathered in the laundry room to be inventoried, you took it upon yourself to grab a clean towel and deliver it to Barbatos.

You could hear the water running from down the hall. It was so loud, you weren't sure Barbatos could hear you. Wisps of steam escaped from the cracks around the bathroom door. You knocked. There was no answer.

"Barbatos?" you called, knocking again. There was no answer. Only the running of water. He was probably already in the shower. You could take this opportunity to grab his soiled uniform and clean it before the stains permanently set in.

With that plan of action, you opened the door. Barbatos was not in the shower, despite the running faucet. In fact, Barbatos was stark naked in the middle of the room. A washcloth in his hand indicated he had already obtained his own towels. He had his back to the door, as if he was just about to enter the tub. He made eye contact with you over his shoulder, eyes wide.

That one second felt like an hour.

His posture was superb. A mix of tea and condensation from the muggy bathroom air trailed down the curve of his spine, fine enough to be in a medical textbook. Your eyes followed, down to the base of his tail and the derriere behind it. Two fabulous, firm full moons. A sight rarer than anything else in all the three realms.

"Did you need something?"

Barbatos' usual polite tone was punctuated with umbrage. He placed a hand on his chest, as though shielding his visage.

"I'm sorry!" were the first words you spat out, on reflex. Coherent thinking failed you in the face of such art. Sentences started falling out of your mouth and you hoped they made sense. "I thought you might need a towel, so I got one from the laundry and came to give it to you. I knocked! I did, I knocked, but you didn't answer so I came in to leave this."

You held the towel forward with both hands as an offering. "And I was gonna collect your clothes so I could wash them. As an apology for, ah, that other thing I did. Sorry."

You stared at the ground. Even Barbatos' ankles were pristine. A little bony, tapering down at the sides that led to his slender feet. You watched his weight shift as his tail curled closer to his body.

"How thoughtful. I'd appreciate if you could hang it on the towel bar. I will handle my clothes myself, later."

"Right, of course." You swiveled and diligently hung the towel up. The dirty clothes in question were on the ground, still soaking wet, neatly folded in a square. You looked from them back to Barbatos. He was rooted in place, not budging in the slightest. One wrong move, and who knew how much you'd see?

More than the current eyeful, that's for sure. More than the slope of his shoulders. More than the rise and fall of his upper body with each fresh breath. More than the sight of his wet hair clinging to the curve of his jawbone and the tenseness in his arm when his painted fingernails wrapped around the tiny washcloth.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked. An obvious cue for you to leave.

"I'm good," you said. It was hard not to ogle at the size of his waist fully unobscured by clothing, and its ratio to his hips. "Do you... need any help?"

"I am fine. I will be taking my shower now." His voice echoed around the bathroom as you finally left. It echoed around your head, too, when he said, "be good and wait for me."

[corviiids]

there are fixations where you're like oh my brain has latched onto something per my usual adhd patterns and then there are fixations where you touch a piece of media for the first time and immediately you're like ah... so this is what it is like, to meet your soulmate. and your soulmate. is a shounen manga from 2004