i hope i am forever grateful for where i am and what i have in life
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I just wanna say bc I KNOW you're somewhere on tumblr, to the teenage girl who attended Take Your Kid To Work Day at an office building in Ontario, Canada circa 2013 and had a conversation with a middle aged woman in which you showed her your Black Veil Brides fanart and fanfics and ship content and told her about different fanfic tropes including a/b/o verse bc she happened to know who Panic! at The Disco and Fallout Boy were and thus you felt the need to show her your bandblr ship art, that was my fucking mother and I had to clarify all that to her including looking my mother in the eye and trying to explain a/b/o verse without sounding like a lunatic.
It's been 10 years and I still regularly sent evil energies in your direction. Since you'd be probably two years younger than me and thus legally an adult now, please know if this post reaches you it's on sight.
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lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)
if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.
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no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.
I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.
I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.
If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.
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au where ALL the batkids inherit bruces adopting problem, but it's for kids that remind them of themselves
When a hyper-intelligent juvenile figures out his identity and starts following him around on patrol the only thing Tim can think is that this is karma
Steph sees any spunky kid with a villain parent and a hunger for justice and goes 'mine.'
An angry, bitter kid shows up at the police station and Dick immediately starts teaching them how to juggle
Jason reiterates to himself that he's not anything like bruce while collecting crime alley kids like pokemon cards
The little redheaded techie from Barbaras workplace accidently calls her mom and she nearly cries
When a mute youth with a truly horrible father needs a place to call home, Cass doesn't hesitate when inviting them into hers.
it only makes sense for Duke to take the new meta-vigilante under his wing, right? right??
Damian doesn't realise he's mentally adopted the small, scruffy assassin sent after him until he's reading them a bedtime story.
none of them tell eachother until there's a family reunion and then it's just
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my senses (= browsing the johnkat tag daily) are detecting a real small scale johnkat revival! we are all so cool lets keep em coming! :D
posting a thing from a drawpile session with friends in celebration of that
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my the last/blank period redesigns of ino hinata and kiba !
ino is wearing shorts under the dress :-) and hina's is a bit of a fusion of all her outfits + hyuuga style. kiba keeps the same elements just shifted to the left and gains +100 scars
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A few days ago I went to visit my grandpa, as I haven't seen him in a few months.
He's on his death bed; his time is fast approaching. I saw it in his eyes. They looked glassy.
My father warned me that it wouldn't have been pretty to see him like that. I wasn't expecting it to be. He's been sick a while and my dad has been taking care of him almost entirely by himself, so I knew it wasn't gonna be nice. Though I'll say, seeing my boisterous, larger-than-life grandfather reduced to the shadow of a man left a bitter taste in my mouth - and tears in my eyes. Still I did not cry. I didn't want grandpa to see me, just in case. I realized that he wouldn't have been able to see me anyway: he looked almost lost in thought. Completely out of it. All he could do was hold his face in his hands, too weak to even roll over.
He didn't respond to my dad when he called for him, nor did he acknowledge my presence initially. My dad glossed over it. Apparently he's not been able to recognise my dad for a few days now. Still, I could have sworn I heard my grandpa mutter his name a few times.
After a while, something happened. Grandpa took his hands off his face and glanced around. Then he looked at me. I cocked my head to the side and said hi. His eyes went wide when I smiled at him. He smiled back. Half hearted, strained, but it was there, and I was so relieved. My dad was wrong; he recognised me. He knew I was there and that I came to say goodbye. I extended my hand towards his own over the bed. He was far away, I thought had to lean in, but I didn't need to. He reached out first. His hand was shaking, purplish in color, but it held mine like it was his last lifeline.
For some reason, this reminded me of something. From times when grandpa wasn't sick, and I heard him talking to my dad over the phone. My dad is a 60 year old man: and still, before hanging up, my grandpa always told him, "A dopo amore." ("Later love"; in Italy, parents oftenly refer to their children as "love"). Because he's still his father's love, even at 60 years old. Me and my sister were also given the same nickname by grandpa, and even as he was fading away, I was still his "love". I felt it in the way he held my hand.
That's how I wanna remember him. So I won't be going to see him again, nor will I look back. I left him with that.
A dopo, amore.
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