my enderman s.o: Á̸̧̡̛̳̺̩͍̫̓͌͛͝͝͝H̶̯͙̳͔̪̺͖̍̓A̸̛̹͉̹͖͉͇̮̥̒̃̐̌̽̄̾̃̌̕͝ͅJ̷̠͗̋͐͘D̷̡̨̘͕̥̤̤̼̻̹̱̰̘̊͝ͅJ̴̝̼̯͚̯͓͖͊̾̎̃̐̈̒͊͘͜J̸̧̙̟͈̮̓̄͆̽̏͆̍̽̽̚͘͝ͅD̸̞̗̥͉̅̌̾͐͂J̶̮͍͚̞͍̲̬̝̣̦̲͇̤̉̐̾̽͑̀̿̆͌̀̍̄̒̚͝D̴̛͕͔͍̜͌̈́̽̏͗́J̸̱̰̻̳̗̰̲͎̲̪̫͓̼̯̅̈̇͒̄̆̑̊͗̎̓̈́͜Ḑ̶̜͔̭͚̤̐̾̓͑͌̀̆̕̚͝K̷̨͈͇͉̯͑̂̆̂́̉͜D̸͍̺͎̼̼͗́̉̈́̋̅̔̋̈́̋̓̈́̀̀͠J̸̧̧̰͔̣̠̙̻̜̻̜͓͇̿͆̓̄̀͂͑͌͜͠J̴̡̛̖̲̩͈̠̗̹̳̳̓͂̽͒͂͌̉̆͝͝J̷̝͚̟̠͇̖̖̘̟̝̩͛͋̈́́͒̓͑̇̔̀͘͠Ä̷̡̨̼͉̼̭̣̭̺͔̤̜̯̟͔́̓̇̿͛͐̌̉̑̓̕W̶͕͖̠̭̾̽̒̀͋͆͘̚͜͠E̸̛̙̠̙͒́̔̒E̴̥̼̱̰̪̻̩͎̟̻͓̞̎̔̀͌͂̓̎̉̅̋̈́̏̓̕ͅÉ̵̢͍͇̯̯̹̘̬̠̥̳̣͇͚͌̀͗͛͗͒͝ͅĘ̸̛̺͉̮͚͇̫̙͖͙̓͒̃E̵͎͗̇͒͂͝Ḙ̴͉̰͖̟̭̳̗̯̟̙̼̥̈́̆̓̎̃̅̿̊͛͗͘͝Ȩ̷̯̼͇̼͇̬̪̠̺̤̀͗̊̒̎̑͆̒̂̾ͅḖ̴̩͕̤̣̰̺̙͕̖̼͉̯͎͚̹́̐̓͗E̸̢̮͙̠͕͖͋̂̈́̋̎͂̌̓͗͑̀̑̇ͅ
For my previous commissioners you’re still on my list feel free to message me for an update on your pieces, but I am on my wits end. My mom’s husband is pushing me to my breaking point. He’s constantly yelling slurs, waking my mom and I up in the middle of the night, turning off the wifi and going through my things when I’m not home just to bother me, physically and verbally abusing me and my mom; I can’t take another year of this shit. This has been going on since middle school and I’m in my 2nd year of college.
Links to my ko-fi, paypal, and patreon. These are the lowest I’ve ever gone with my prices just so anyone can get something they want and I won’t feel guilty for e-begging. That’s why I’ve kept quiet about this for so long.
The stories of women in my family who were forced into lives they didn’t want and didn’t utilize their passions breaks my heart. My grandma wanted to be a journalist and write about the injustices she saw inflicted on disabled ppl while she was volunteering at a state run institution as a teen. Her father decided that she was “too fat and stupid” for college and forced her to get married at 17 or else he’d make her homeless. As a kid she told me that she wished people believed that she had meaningful opinions on events around her. One of my great grandmothers wanted to be an artist but was pressured into marrying a man who beat her. She stayed up late each night when her children were in bed writing poetry and pasting it over elaborate collages she mad herself. We still have stacks of these notebooks she created but was never allowed to do anything with. My mother wanted to be an operatic singer and was considered a musical prodigy in her town because she taught herself three seperate instruments by 13. When she was 18 she met my then 30 year old father who emotionally manipulated her into giving up her dreams to start a family with him. As a kid I would hear her up at night playing the violin or doing vocal exercises until she became too depressed to practice anymore. Like idk y’all there’s a quiet type of violence in the way women’s talents are devalued and brushed aside in favor of bullying them into “traditional” roles that ultimately don’t fulfill what they wanted for their lives. We’ve lost so much art, music, writing, science, and happiness to misogyny.
You know it was probably for the best the Terezi was some recluse who lived in the woods and ate live squirrel meat because if she actively participated in society with other teals they would have fucking necked themselves
She shows up to the meeting 20 minutes late in footie pajamas and light up sketchers and plays Zelda throughout the whole thing but no one can say shit because she got a 375 on her bar exam
Some exhausted teal co-worker: do have the file I asked for
Terezi, on her third box of chalk that week: OH FUCK Y34H
Co-worker, upon being handed an report written in gel pen and covered in glitter that will somehow be the most skilled and competently written thing he’s read all month:
Kilroy was here is an American popular culture expression that became popular during World War II; it is typically seen in graffiti. Its origins are debated, but the phrase and the distinctive accompanying doodle — a bald-headed man (sometimes depicted as having a few hairs) with a prominent nose peeking over a wall with the fingers of each hand clutching the wall — became associated with GIs in the 1940s.
my enderman s.o: Á̸̧̡̛̳̺̩͍̫̓͌͛͝͝͝H̶̯͙̳͔̪̺͖̍̓A̸̛̹͉̹͖͉͇̮̥̒̃̐̌̽̄̾̃̌̕͝ͅJ̷̠͗̋͐͘D̷̡̨̘͕̥̤̤̼̻̹̱̰̘̊͝ͅJ̴̝̼̯͚̯͓͖͊̾̎̃̐̈̒͊͘͜J̸̧̙̟͈̮̓̄͆̽̏͆̍̽̽̚͘͝ͅD̸̞̗̥͉̅̌̾͐͂J̶̮͍͚̞͍̲̬̝̣̦̲͇̤̉̐̾̽͑̀̿̆͌̀̍̄̒̚͝D̴̛͕͔͍̜͌̈́̽̏͗́J̸̱̰̻̳̗̰̲͎̲̪̫͓̼̯̅̈̇͒̄̆̑̊͗̎̓̈́͜Ḑ̶̜͔̭͚̤̐̾̓͑͌̀̆̕̚͝K̷̨͈͇͉̯͑̂̆̂́̉͜D̸͍̺͎̼̼͗́̉̈́̋̅̔̋̈́̋̓̈́̀̀͠J̸̧̧̰͔̣̠̙̻̜̻̜͓͇̿͆̓̄̀͂͑͌͜͠J̴̡̛̖̲̩͈̠̗̹̳̳̓͂̽͒͂͌̉̆͝͝J̷̝͚̟̠͇̖̖̘̟̝̩͛͋̈́́͒̓͑̇̔̀͘͠Ä̷̡̨̼͉̼̭̣̭̺͔̤̜̯̟͔́̓̇̿͛͐̌̉̑̓̕W̶͕͖̠̭̾̽̒̀͋͆͘̚͜͠E̸̛̙̠̙͒́̔̒E̴̥̼̱̰̪̻̩͎̟̻͓̞̎̔̀͌͂̓̎̉̅̋̈́̏̓̕ͅÉ̵̢͍͇̯̯̹̘̬̠̥̳̣͇͚͌̀͗͛͗͒͝ͅĘ̸̛̺͉̮͚͇̫̙͖͙̓͒̃E̵͎͗̇͒͂͝Ḙ̴͉̰͖̟̭̳̗̯̟̙̼̥̈́̆̓̎̃̅̿̊͛͗͘͝Ȩ̷̯̼͇̼͇̬̪̠̺̤̀͗̊̒̎̑͆̒̂̾ͅḖ̴̩͕̤̣̰̺̙͕̖̼͉̯͎͚̹́̐̓͗E̸̢̮͙̠͕͖͋̂̈́̋̎͂̌̓͗͑̀̑̇ͅ
For my previous commissioners you’re still on my list feel free to message me for an update on your pieces, but I am on my wits end. My mom’s husband is pushing me to my breaking point. He’s constantly yelling slurs, waking my mom and I up in the middle of the night, turning off the wifi and going through my things when I’m not home just to bother me, physically and verbally abusing me and my mom; I can’t take another year of this shit. This has been going on since middle school and I’m in my 2nd year of college.
Links to my ko-fi, paypal, and patreon. These are the lowest I’ve ever gone with my prices just so anyone can get something they want and I won’t feel guilty for e-begging. That’s why I’ve kept quiet about this for so long.
The stories of women in my family who were forced into lives they didn’t want and didn’t utilize their passions breaks my heart. My grandma wanted to be a journalist and write about the injustices she saw inflicted on disabled ppl while she was volunteering at a state run institution as a teen. Her father decided that she was “too fat and stupid” for college and forced her to get married at 17 or else he’d make her homeless. As a kid she told me that she wished people believed that she had meaningful opinions on events around her. One of my great grandmothers wanted to be an artist but was pressured into marrying a man who beat her. She stayed up late each night when her children were in bed writing poetry and pasting it over elaborate collages she mad herself. We still have stacks of these notebooks she created but was never allowed to do anything with. My mother wanted to be an operatic singer and was considered a musical prodigy in her town because she taught herself three seperate instruments by 13. When she was 18 she met my then 30 year old father who emotionally manipulated her into giving up her dreams to start a family with him. As a kid I would hear her up at night playing the violin or doing vocal exercises until she became too depressed to practice anymore. Like idk y’all there’s a quiet type of violence in the way women’s talents are devalued and brushed aside in favor of bullying them into “traditional” roles that ultimately don’t fulfill what they wanted for their lives. We’ve lost so much art, music, writing, science, and happiness to misogyny.
You know it was probably for the best the Terezi was some recluse who lived in the woods and ate live squirrel meat because if she actively participated in society with other teals they would have fucking necked themselves
She shows up to the meeting 20 minutes late in footie pajamas and light up sketchers and plays Zelda throughout the whole thing but no one can say shit because she got a 375 on her bar exam
Some exhausted teal co-worker: do have the file I asked for
Terezi, on her third box of chalk that week: OH FUCK Y34H
Co-worker, upon being handed an report written in gel pen and covered in glitter that will somehow be the most skilled and competently written thing he’s read all month:
