#yayness

[ludarklina-fan-spot]

put me down you twit!

[dvmbgvtz]

kris freaking deltarune or whateva

[chartreusecoconut]

hike textures

[autumnjen]

First page in my new #artjournal #yayness #booktext #droppages #layers #firstlayers #stillmanandbirn #artjournaling #saturdayafternoon #wip #workinprogress #omd #onmydesk

[beautifulsugarcube]

I see so many doctors this week life is beautiful but also. Ultrasounds where u can't eat food before not wonderful

[foxyroxie2006]

Current Mood

Rarely does it snow in the South. As per tradition when it does my dad and I will go out and throw snowballs at each other. Granted the snow barely stuck together to form a snowball and it fell apart as soon as it left my hands but it’s a rare tradition that I enjoy. Even if we did go out at 5a.m.

[fayelafaye]

[bluevigil]

 || HEADCANON || CITY STATE OF MIND

There’s no denying that Dick Grayson is a City Boy™ these days. He’s locked in a frame of mind set by the shape of Gotham, by the feel of Blüdhaven, by the smell of Chicago and the sound of New York. He’s molded by skyscraper streets and armored by the hustle and bustle of it’s people. He feels at ease in large cities, is able to orient himself quickly and efficiently. He likes to convenience of having five different bakeries within a twenty minute walking distance of his loft, of being able to order food in while he’s neck deep in case notes.

But the upsetting thing is, this is not how he has always been.

As a child, Dick Grayson knew nothing of large cities - at least not in the frame of reference that a resident might have. They were beasts to be fed and entertained, large and grey and shapeless blocks that disgorged hundreds of wide eyed, pale faced people who drifted toward the lights of the circus like moths.

As a child, Dick Grayson was a wanderer. A nomad. Born on the outskirts of Prague in his parent’s caravan, where his mother had been born and her mother before that. His home was four walls barely 8 feet wide, packed with three generations worth of knick knacks, baubles and keepsakes. His state of mind was the uneven paths through the back ends of woods that had not seen another living soul in years. He breathed the air of a dozen different countries and reveled in an existence of fluidity - when each and every morning on the road saw a new horizon for them to chase.

He was born for open air and uneven pathways, and would have been quite content to spend the rest of his life chasing the sun around the world to the raucous cheers of the wide eyed populaces that came to see him.

Lamentably, tragedy stole that path from him and a new purpose forged him into the city slicker that he is today. An existence that he does not begrudge in any way. But there are moments, inklings that turn his head toward the highways out of town, to the smudges of distant green that mark the boundary between his world and the one he left. There are moments when he yearns for that sweet air and the dappled sunlight through the trees in a place that people do not know. He misses the wide green feel of his youth.

But only sometimes.