#im safe now

[scribblesandink]

If you know me irl, no you don't. And if you don't wanna read about my personal shit, keep scrolling

If one more fucking person tells me to play nice, keep my mouth shut, and apologize to the narcissistic piece of shit who's womb I spawned from, I'm going to have a mental breakdown.

This bitch kicks me out at 17, tries to convince her parents (who I'm living with) to kick me out as well, is trying to take my phone off her plan to completely cut me off from everyone else, and has the audacity to play the victim? The psychotic delusion this arrogant piece of shit is living in is truly just impressive at this point.

She has pushed away everyone who could ever POSSIBLY want her around, including her own child. Her parents only keep her around because they literally cannot afford not to, she abuses the animals she uses as fuel for her manipulation, she is a hoarder who's house is saturated in cat piss, and the funny part is everyone agrees, even her "best friend", that me being away from her is what's best. The only thing I ever learned from this woman is to hit back harder and don't stop until you are safe again. I look forward to watching her rot alone in a hell of her own making.

Her child has been diagnosed with a severe dissociative disorder from the trauma she inflicted for years, not to mention everything else she caused to happen. I'm done playing nice. I'm done keeping the peace. If she wants to pick a fight, she's got one. She is getting one chance to get her shit together before I call the ASPCA and the Department Of Social Services

[shrimpgoddess]

i got my blåhaj

[lesboevils]

men are gross

[thats-just-showbiz-au]

Taking a mini break as something real bad happened))

[safesthaveninexistence]

That makes sm sense.....why i need a lot of rest/purging cleansing my system.... it aint a spiritual attack, its literally me being out of fight or flight mode and having healed past traumas since the Vortex is profoundly healing me so my body's......wow🥺

[bluenoisen]

plunged into the deep end

[s0urte3th]

ok ok ok ok

[cherboxishere]

Hey guys i ended Reload can you see how sane i am

[fauvester]

something something seeing things through different eyes

[sciderman]

How did your meeting go with the surgeons?

it was memorable

[emry-stars-art]

Reintroducing these two Trojans ❤️💛

[mikasasrippedtoenail]

Calling Lesbians' attraction to vaginas a mere genital "preference" erases the sheer violence behind corrective rape of millions of sapphic women. I do not just "dislike" dick, I am physically incapable of being attracted to it. My allure to the female genitilia is not a choice, it's my biological reality. Dismissal of same-sex attraction as a choice reinforces the homophobic ideology that attractions can be altered and also paves the way for discrimination. One cannot opt out of their sexuality, they are always born with it.

[weaselishmcdiesel]

katnep is the type of ship you'd expect nepeta to try really hard and dress all cutely and karkat be a bit more lazy and wear the same clothes BUT if we're all being honest karkat would absolutely dress up all fancy and nepeta would wear her usual clothes. karkat would go to kanaya in a heartbeat, kanaya would try to reach out to nepeta but nepeta will not comply.

bonus points if kanaya continues to try and make something pretty but also comfortable and fitting for nepetas tastes but it backfires because she then never takes it off and kanaya has to watch it very clearly become worn and ruined as nepeta rolls around in dirt. Kanaya accounted for that of course, but nepeta somehow surpassed her expectations anyways

i think youre totally completely right

[blueberryfruitbat]

AI and Tumblr

In the event of any kind of AI Art API is to be trained on this platform I do not give permission for my art to be sampled or used to train AI without financial compensation, artists hold the copyright to our art and any intentional mimicry or sampling of my art by an artificial intelligence is infringing on an artist's rights to their creations.

We as artists will not take this grim proposal between Tumblr and Midjourney laying down, this was the last safe heaven for a lot of us and you are now holding knives to us entirely to solve your financial woes instead of offering meaningful solutions. You are going to bleed your community of all trust and all revenue you still eek out of us. Your ways have changed from one of a community built around passion for fandom and the creative mind to one of greed and exclusion. You have been showing true colors and they are ugly, they are sickening, and they will kill your platform. If this deal goes through, may your platform die slow and painfully, may you watch your most loyal of whales walk away and leave you drying out in the hot pavement that is bankruptcy.

[skillbattle]

umm hi happy juneteenth 👋🏽 im a freelancer who’s just trying to get by and pay my bills, if you’d like to support me in anyway today it would be highly appreciated!! 🫶🏽 kofi ☕️

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."