.. Keep The Flame Going

i don’t think people who don’t read comics/mostly read wfa understand how much of a dweeb tim drake actually is because he was supposed to be a Good Role Model For Tween Boys in the 90s. one time he found out his roommate at boarding school was an alcoholic so he poured all his alcohol down the drain instead of just ignoring it like a normal person. his girlfriend wanted to have sex with him and instead of just saying “i’m not ready” he launched into a monologue about how “making love is like opening a door” and he “isn’t ready to open that door yet” because they “might have adult feelings for each other, but [they’re] still just kids.” 90s tim was the type of kid to remind the teacher to assign homework. he somehow got mad bitches even though everyone highkey thought he was weird. in one panel of one issue he randomly said he had to be “vewwy quiet” and never spoke like that again. he canonically plays dungeons and dragons (or the fictional dc equivalent). the money his dad left him after he died wasn’t even a lot because his dad went bankrupt shortly before his death. like it was a substantial amount but not enough to make him rich. i cannot stress enough that tim was SUCH a Regular Guy TM and constantly worried about not standing out. he purposefully did bad at sports and pretended to be winded in gym class so people wouldn’t suspect anything. like he wouldn’t even try and be average, he would purposefully almost fail. he is not a cool rich skater kid guys he’s such a dork

Damn. I am now in exestential crisis mode.

A few years ago, I went back to visit my childhood home. Boredom called, and I decided to drown it out by using some tactically applied high-RPM until I arrived at the location. This house is a lot different now, in both subtle and dramatic ways. Obviously, there's a different family living in it. The lawn is a little bit better kept, after my dad's heroin-chic attempts at re-wilding have been knocked down by a more conventional suburbanite approach. And Coco is gone.

Coco is the neighbour's dog. Or he was. Despite being a small, black puffball, he would bark furiously at me whenever I came out into the yard. Dogs don't live nearly long enough, and presumably at some point between when I left and when I returned, he passed onto the great hereafter, barking at an infinite expanse of angels for perceived injustices against dog-kind. In his place was another small, black puffball.

This new dog, who I was not lucky enough to get the name of, also barked furiously at me upon my approach to the property. Coco's successor was performing the same job, in the same spot, with the same asshole attitude, decades later, totally unaware of his predecessor's impressive body of work on this exact file, or even his presence on this cursed Earth. I started to feel a little woozy at the existential rush that contemplating this produced, and quickly returned to my car, where I purged the nitrous oxide a few times until I felt better.

That dog was lucky, in a lot of ways. He didn't have to think about leaving a legacy for the future, and could just focus on perfecting the art of yipping furiously at my presence. All dogs want the same thing, as long as they're put in that yard, and are small yappy creatures. Maybe humans are the ones that fucked it up, I ruminate as I slot the compressed-air shifter into the next gear in order to finally cease the several-minutes-long burnout that I had been doing in front of his house to really work his barky ass up.

real adult™ tip from a real adult™ with executive dysfunction

do stuff while waiting for other stuff

like that sounds intuitive and vague but so much of the day is spent in a period of wait and if you struggle to motivate yourself to do things then this is the best time

waiting for your water to boil? bag up your garbage. waiting for your coffee to drip? wipe down your counters. roommate taking up the bathroom? scoop the cat box. waiting for your food to cook in the microwave? do however many dishes you can while it’s in there. 

waiting is the perfect time to do a limited amount of something for yourself where you would be otherwise just standing around doing fuck-all

Hmmmmmm might as well test my luck.

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

Not what i imagined, but i like it.

Join me, @crabiesk3lytons @justenjoyrandomshit @leonthejediyt

Which oddly specific colour palette are you?

Thank you for the tag, @citrus-moonlight!!! This is... quite literally my wardrobe color on top of the eyeshadows/lipsticks I wear on the daily so this is actually quite spooky skfjsdkf

Link to quiz.

No pressure tags (and you if you see this!): @sixpennydame @nube55 @littlerequiem @pinkberryfox @thechaoticarchivist

Yo if I booped once sorry if I do it more than once I just go on a spree of booping

SOMEONE HAS THE SAME PROBLEM TOO?

Why did the tumblr app remove the ability to double tap a post to give it a like ☹️

Dont mind me, just cryin rn

Humans being the first. Not the strongest or the smartest or the weirdest or the most violent. Just the first.

We called out into the dark over and over. We sent out messages in hopes. We searched every planet we could reach, in hopes of any sign of life. Any at all.

We thought, hoped we were the last, because we couldn’t bear the idea of being the one ones this awake and alive in a world as vast as this.

And we died alone.

When the others are born, many many years later, they find us, everything we left for them.

They recover The Golden Record and look at it a million times over, they dig up our fossils and put us in museums, they study us for years and years, loving us as we love our ancestors’ painted hands on cave walls.

In a lot of their languages, the word they use for us has the same root for “mother”.