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#i tell you what fam

turtleblogatlast · 4 months

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Big Mama must have lost some serious standing in the yokai underworld because it’s gotten apparent that she keeps being beaten by a small group of teenagers and the occasional rat man, and when it’s not them then she’s taking L’s from her own schemes working against her.

And in the ensuing power vacuum, the Hamatos accidentally become the most feared crime family known to all the big bads of the Hidden City.

After all, they’ve publicly outplayed Big Mama multiple times, a couple of them have taken out the heads of two of the most well known criminal organizations, one took out Heinous Green, two are responsible for the destruction of Witch Town, they have ties to both the infamous Baron Draxum and Captain Piel, they won the Doom Dome death race, they’re Battle Nexus Champions, they’ve displayed insane feats of power and defeated impossibly strong enemies, most of them have been to jail, and they regularly mingle with humans.

You can just imagine the notoriety they’d accumulate from word of mouth alone.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt headcanons #rise of the tmnt #I didn’t even list everything the Hamatos are MENACES #it’s so funny #bonus if none of the Hamatos realize how terrifying their presence in the Hidden City has become #every time Leo goes to bother Hueso the guy just has his head in his hands like Pepino…I JUST got my brother out of crime…and now you???’#Leo’s just like ‘lmao what crime’#meanwhile a trail of destruction follows them wherever they go #just look at the library smh #the small time yokai villains hearing about how scary the fam is and having two different reactions #one being no way are we talking about the same babies tripping over themselves and barely beating anyone #the other is oh god I barely escaped with my LIFE huh #sunita listening to all the worry her parents have about this new ‘Hamato Family’ and laughing inside #she tells April and April keeps it a secret to see how long it takes the others to realize it #when accused of crime Donnie accidentally and largely unprompted starts denying his digital asset thefts and then has to deny he denied it #when he learns of what is thought of them Raph has a crisis the poor boy #Mikey’s happy they’re ‘known for being a family!:)’#he - kinda terrifyingly - kinda likes the thought of that lol #Leo: 🤔 think I could go back to that hair spa then? (no)#in their defense while they are MENACES society is ALSO a menace to THEM

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time-to-write-and-suffer · 1 year

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It's hard to have sympathy for the crying streamers and YouTubers getting harrassed by the evil transes and Jews when they play the I Hate Transes and Jews Game. Like you could just not play it. Trans ppl and Jewish ppl don't get to choose not to be those things. We've been asking you for years not to play it for many reasons. You could've chosen not to play it but you still did, despite knowing the big stink around the game. And now you face the consequences of your actions because people are hurt and upset by your betrayal? Because the people who asked you not to play it because it directly hurts them are seeing you ignore them and play it anyway? What were they supposed to do? Enjoy your letsplay of I Hate Transes and Jews? Just sit back and accept with a shrug that you spent money on something that directly makes their limited time on this earth worse? Idk man ... seems like you walked into that one.

#i don't condone telling ppl to kill themselves or whatever it is those 'harassers' are accused of #but you like stepped into that pile of shit on your own fam #nobody asked you to step into that shit #but you stepped into it and now you don't get to cry about how your shoe smells like shit #like what did you think was gonna happen famsquad???#anti jkr #anti hogwarts legacy

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puhpandas · 6 months

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Rough Night

(2,580 words)

Gregory and Vanessa both have scars from The Mimic. Mentally and physically. (Gregory was bait for trapping the mimic and has scars to show for it. Vanessa's scars are mentally, though)

The scar is nothing new, really. Three thick gashes cut cleanly through his calf, each coiling around his leg like a snake, only made six short months ago.

They had needed bait. They'd needed someone to lure the thing into their trap to shut the doors on it. They knew how smart it was. They knew it wouldnt be fooled so easily. No. They had to be smarter than it. They had to give it something to chase. They had to put one of the things it hates most right in front of it. They had to make it think only of the prey it could catch.

It was him, of course. Turns out, when you break free suddenly from somethings control, then proceed to free every other minion of its and leave it back at square one, that thing can develop a really bad grudge against you.

Gregory remembers now. He didnt back then. He remembers how he was its favorite, once upon a time. It had selected him like it had selected Vanessa.

Thinking back, maybe that's why Vanessa insisted he was the better choice for bait. Maybe the thing felt betrayed in a way. Maybe its angry that its former favorite had been its downfall. He doesnt know.

It doesnt matter, anymore. Shutting down useless thoughts is apart of what hes learned at the therapy he and Vanesss have started together. The thing is trapped now. It doesnt matter to him.

It's hard to not reminisce, though. Not when those same three long lines sliced jaggedly through his leg were from the things claws. When it got him at the last second in the vent.

Not when those same lines running all the way up his calf and then some flare up in the night. Not when it didnt heal properly. Not when it still hurts him.

Like the scar, the pain is nothing new. It's not the first time its woken him up in the night. Usually, he bites it down until he falls back asleep.

This time is bad, though. It's not as easily ignored. Usually, if he lays still, the pain will fade long enough to drift back off.

This time, though, it sends stabbing pain up his leg that causes him to twitch and shift, and the burning never ceases. He bites his tongue, frustration palpable in the groan he let's out.

Stupid, stupid robot. Stupid claws. Stupid vent. He usually doesn't get this upset, but this night is a bad night, apparently. His leg is so irritated it's impossible to ignore, and no matter how much he tries to lay still in bed and clear his thoughts, the knowledge that theres scar gel in a drawer in the kitchen bought specifically for nights like these linger in his minds eye.

He groans one more time when his annoyance doesnt cause the pain to magically wash away, and he throws the covers off of his body, hissing when the movement irritates the scar tissue even more.

He bites it down, pushing through with furrowed brows. He just needs to make it to the kitchen, use the gel, sit for a little while, and then hopefully go back to sleep.

He never bothers Vanessa with things like this. Shes sleep deprived enough as it is. Gregory has the mercy of not remembering everything. The things he does being not so vivid.

Vanessa doesnt get that. The memories plague her the worst at night. As clear a day. Shes always telling him how glad she is that he doesnt have to deal with them like she does.

Gregory thinks it's kinda funny. How Vanessa got the mental scars and Gregory got the physical ones. The thin, jagged slice on his cheek never went away, either. It's still there. A permanent reminder of that night.

A permanent reminder that they killed him. Gregory reminds himself. A permanent reminder that hes gone. Like how my leg is like a symbol of how that thing is trapped forever now.

Gregory and Vanessa are victims, sure. But they're also survivors. They won the battle. They won the war. And they have the marks to show for it.

He tiptoes past Freddys slumped, charging, patchwork body with practiced precision. The feeling of sneaking past an animatronic is all too familiar. He turns the knob of the door of his room gently, mindful of where it creaks, and swings it open.

He makes it to the kitchen easily, after that. Being quiet in the silence comes naturally when he pulls open the drawer he knows they keep it in, grabbing the tube as soon as it's in sight.

He avoids all of the floorboards that creak when he makes his way to the couch in their small living room, sending a look to the door of Vanessa's room when he sits down.

He sighs. He'll be quiet. He doesnt want Vanessa to wake up.

He doesnt want to bother her. She has her own demons. He wants her to rest as much as shes able.

He doesnt want to add on to the reasons shes so exhausted every day.

Vanessa knows exactly what kind of night this is when she filters back into conciousness slowly. When she becomes aware or her body, her joints are sore and her mouth is as dry as a desert.

Shes warm, tucked safely into bed, and plenty tired. Usually, all of these factors lead to a great nights sleep.

Not for her, though. Her rough nights are nothing new, really. When she'd first gotten back, freshly freed, only ten short months ago, sleep had been scarce. Every time shed try, flashes of what she'd been forced to do those two years would play behind her eyelids like a slideshow.

That only happens half the time, now. An improvement, sure, but a good night's sleep is still rare for her.

She doesnt even try to fall back asleep. She knows she won't be able to. Better to stop the memories before they arrive by busying herself. Shes used to being tired, anyway.

Its nothing new, really, when she peels herself off of her covers and stumbles her way through her pitch black room to her door. She'll sit in the living room. Watch a movie, maybe. Get a snack. It's what she usually does on her bad nights.

Shes halfway through a silent, jaw creaking yawn when she catches sight of the couch already being occupied, and the TV already on.

She only stands there and stares for a moment, but she understands quickly. She sighs sadly, resigned.

I guess we both had a rough night. Vanessa thinks when she catches sight of Gregory's scar gel on the coffee table.

She makes herself known silently, inching into Gregory's line of sight so he'll notice her himself. He still startles when she catches him unexpectedly, but she doesn't apologize. She knows him. She knows he doesnt like acknowledging it.

He huffs out a sigh, seemingly coming to the former conclusion she just did moments ago. He shimmies down the couch, making room for her in the little nest of blankets hes created on the couch.

She sits down without a word. She knows, and she knows that he knows, and she knows that he knows that she knows. Theres no point in voicing it.

She always finds comfort in the silence, anyway. It's nice. Knowing that somebody gets you enough to not need words. Before, shed always needed to confirm. To deny. To explain. To answer.

She doesn't need to do that, with Gregory. Something about being in the same boat helps her understand. It helps them understand eachother.

She digs into the open box of Cheez-Its Gregory has propped up on his leg, crunching down on a handful. She gazes up at the TV, her eyes burning from the light that shines as bright as a beacon, but she ignores it easily. Gregory's put on some sort of YouTube video about customizing an animatronic.

She huffs in amusement, shimmying to get comfortable. She was already planning on distracting herself with the TV, why not do it with a buddy?

Its silent, for a while. A comfortable silence. Shes glad that she can find contentment with Gregory with little words, even in their predicaments. The TV is the only thing keeping the apartment from being so silent you could hear a pin drop.

Every once in a while, Gregory's leg twitches, and she has to fight to not glance over. It's not good for her. She knows. It's why Gregory wears pants instead of shorts now. Every time she sees those three deep tunnel-like scars in Gregory's leg, all she can think about is how much it shouldn't have been him.

She doesnt know how to explain to him that she was scared. That she couldn't make herself do it. That she took advantage of how sure of himself and confident Gregory had been. How she let herself be weak and put him into the fray. How he had gotten hurt because of it.

Because of her.

It's only now that she realizes that shes failed in not falling into that hole she does every time she gets a look at those scars. They're like the opposite of Gregory's face scar. While the scar on his face represents how she succeeded, how he succeeded, how he freed her, how he stopped the long line of killings, all the scars on his leg remind her of is how she failed. How she failed to protect him. How she failed to take care of him. Of possibly the only family shes ever had.

Gregory notices. He always does. Even though on the outside, all that's changed is the wetness to Vanessa's eyes and the clench in her jaw.

He looks at her. Silently, she knows it's an invitation. It's a request.

She forces herself to look back. Even though her skin crawls. Even when her stomach churns with guilt. Even when she almost cant even stand to see the scar on his face that she associates with hope so often.

He conveys so much to her in one look when she meets his eyes. Like a silent conversation. Its not your fault He says. I dont blame you, so dont blame yourself.

It is, though. She conveys back, hands shaking. You should. Everyone should. I should have been stronger. I should have been better.

He doesnt say anything else. He just turns his attention back to the TV, grabbing her hand with his own and squeezing it enough to let her know he isn't letting go.

A disagreement. Is what Vanessa realizes this is. No, you're wrong. Hes saying. You're healing. We both are.

She takes another glance at the scar gel on the coffee table, and sighs out, relenting. Theyve had this conversation a million times. Enough for it to be second nature to reassure eachother.

Vanessa thinks shes like Gregory, in a way. His scars have healed, supposedly, but they haven't really. They still flare up. They still hurt. They still stand for something. They still are a mark of something that will never disappear. Not fully.

But its manageable. His scars have become less of a gaping hole and more of a reminder there once was one. It can be pushed to the back of his mind, a lot of the time. Sometimes, it's a minor inconvenience. Sometimes, like tonight, it flares back up. An old pain.

But that's what hes become to them, isnt he? A minor inconvenience. He no longer affects them day to day like he did before. He no longer hovers over them, ever present. He no longer has that affect on them he did before.

He became a distant memory. Something theyve learned to manage as something apart of their lives. Of theirs. They survived him. They have the marks to show for it. Theyve outlived him, and so have the wounds hes created.

Sometimes, on nights like these, it's hard to remind herself of how far theyve come. But they have. Theyve built a little life for themselves. With their hobbies and responsibilities and little family theyve made of themselves. It's a country mile compared to what Vanessa had thought only ten short months ago. When she couldnt imagine a life a week from then.

It's like shes heard Gregory say before; they survived, and they have the marks to show for it. A night or two or three spent on the couch at 4am because of a rough nights sleep, or old pain flaring up is nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Because she can hear Gregory snort at something funny the people on screen said, and she smiles herself just at the sound, and they're alright. Theyve carved a hole, jagged as can be, where he used to be in their lives, but they're working on filling it. No matter how patchwork it may be.

She wouldnt change her little family and her little life for the world, she decides. Her hand twitches in Gregory's own, and when she remembers she even has ahold of it, she squeezes.

"How about we treat ourselves to some ice cream?" Its the first thing Vanessa's said to Gregory all night, and he lights up like a Christmas tree quicker than Vanessa can even get up off the couch.

She gives him a look that says Stay down. Your leg hurts tonight., and he does. If not wiggling a bit.

"I want the big spoon. Kay?"

Vanessa chuckles, grabbing the carton straight out of the freezer and making sure to pick the appropriate utensil. "Alright. But I get to pick the next video, kay?"

Gregory nods, snatching the spoon straight from her hands. "Okay, room service. Just hurry up and sit down already."

Vanessa rolls her eyes, muttering "I could use the extra pay..."

"Yeah, sure. You're poor. Whatever. Can we watch the Sims?"

Vanessa's scoffs. Sitting back down on the couch and draping the shared throw blanket across her legs. "I get to pick the video, remember, pipsqueak? And pass the ice cream."

Gregory grumbles, setting the large carton in between their knees and getting a huge spoonful when Vanessa snatches the remote.

But despite her comments, she scrolls down to a recent search and puts on one of their favorite series of the Sims, shimmying to get comfortable.

She doesnt miss the way Gregory looks suprised, but neither acknowledge it. They just sit, content, smiles on their faces, stuffing their faces with ice cream.

The sun rises, eventually, and the tiredness feels more bearable when the birds are chirping faintly and the blue sky begins to peek through the blinds.

Its nights like these where she really becomes aware of how much theyve healed. Of how much he has been reduced to nothing but a phantom pain. A lingering inconvenience. Something ignoreable.

They defeated him. It continues to suprise her. Day after day. But they did.

They defeated him, and now, they'll outlive him.

And so will this little family theyve made for themselves.

Freddy eventually joins them in the living room, looking panicked. She and Gregory share a look. They both understand.

Okay, so maybe they still have some healing to do. That's apparent when Freddy tucks himself tightly on Gregory's other side after sitting down. But the idea feels a little easier with her family beside her.

ao3 link

#can you tell im obsessed with the fact that gregorys backpack is left abandoned and unzipped right by the vent leading to the mimic.#almost like it had been left in a hurry. the implications.#i got too carried away with what could come from the mimic scar with gregory and this happened #pandas writes #3 star fam #gregory and vanessa #ggy #dr rabbit #gregory #vanessa #oneshot #my fics

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testingcheats0n · 1 year

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Batfam stans be like "what if we made the kids 'funny'" and then turn them into the meanest little assholes Bruce Wayne has ever spent money and time on- and there are a lot of shitstains in Gotham, you know? And then have the audacity to say that Batman wouldn't clap back and fucking destroy their bloodlines ten generations back because he has never been a doormat no matter the iteration.

Idk the weird hate-boner, veiled-dislike, revenge-porn-but-lowkey-for-appearances, I-want-to-have-my-cake-and-eat-it-too headcanons of this fandom piss me off. It makes no sense to me. Just say you hate Batman, never mention him again in relation to the batfam (bc it's obvious you hate him so the tag turns into a crosstag bc you actually ment anti-bruce wayne- just say you hate him jesus) and move on, don't fucking Tony Stark and the Avengers post Civil war it. It's tacky, it's cringy, it's gross, especially when you like... idk erase the abusive version of batman you're obviously attacking to try and ducktape the family dynamic. ESPECIALLY when you make his trauma responses the butt of every batfam member's joke, because haha trauma funny except when it happens to me. Am I making sense? Idk. Ppl make the batfam members extremely dislikeable and self-centric, pile on all their issues on bruce as if he's not the sole reason they're sane/alive/not suffering/with a home/etc., emasculate batman and call it humor when it's actually a bunch of insensitive jokes that border on ableism/victimblaming. Fair when it's fair, everyone have their sense of humor and coping strats and all, but don't make fun of trauma victims for any reason? Your experience is not really a justification, especially when it can hurt others? I just think that making fun of someone (fictional or not) for seeing their parents die is not on man...

#batman #bruce wayne #pro bruce wayne #pro batman #im scared to tag it as bat/fam #this fandom is fucking hostile man #anti batfam #anti jason todd #anti tim drake #not a callout #not a reprimand or a callout #do what you do #just telling what i see and why i don't like it #twitter humor man #just be as toxic as possible and call it funny that makes all criticism invalid good job

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pangolinheart · 7 months

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FFXIVWrite 2023 DAY 19 - WEAL (AKA THE GLEANER AND THE FROG PART 2)(MAKE-UP)

The continued adventures of Erenville and F'rhiki (Frog Rhiki).

(No one asked for this, but it's all I could come up with for "weal", as in "a sound, healthy, or prosperous state; well-being". Please enjoy Erenville's attempts to create an environment for his frog-ified friend.)

Rating: General Genre: Fluff, nonsense Characters: Erenville, Warrior of Light (Z'rhiki Irhi) Word Count: 1,334 Content Warnings: None

“There, it is finished.” Erenville said as he gently placed the frog (the Warrior of Light, he had to remind himself) into the habitat he had assembled. The substrate he had managed to source on short notice wasn’t ideal, but it was serviceable. There was a driftwood hide, a shallow dish full of water, ledges and sticks for climbing, various small plants to add interest to the space, and a warming lamp overhead that could be adjusted for optimal brightness and temperature. He was a bit unsure which of these things a frog possessed of a humanoid consciousness would need, so he had procured them all for good measure.

The Warrior of Light looked around the tank, then back to him. She cocked her head.

“I will admit, it is likely quite different from the accommodations you are accustomed to,” he explained, “but this is the sort of environment that is recommended for keeping frogs of your type in domestic or research settings. It has all of the things you will need for the night: soft, damp soil, water, and a place to sleep. I… included some things to climb, in case you become bored, but I must confess, I am unsure what other elements would be beneficial for entertainment purposes. Normal frogs do not require much enrichment, but your mind is a great deal more complex than that of a typical frog. It is possible you will become bored.”

He eyed the frog knowingly. “And your other friends have led me to believe that you are inclined to cause trouble when you are bored. In this, I must ask for your patience. You need only endure for a few short hours. Do you understand? Croak one time for yes, two times for no.” He had elected to adopt Alisaie’s approach for rudimentary communication.

The frog croaked, though shuffled about in the substrate rather dejectedly.

“Good. Now, you must be hungry.” This was the part he had been dreading. He sighed, and plucked up a cricket from a dish in his hand with a small set of tongs, holding it up for her to see. While he imagined many parts of being a frog would be uncomfortable and perhaps demeaning for someone used to a humanoid form, eating insects and mealworms seemed like one of the more difficult adjustments. He did his best to look regretful as he lowered her meal into the tank. “Now, I know you may not find the idea of eating vilekin appealing, but you will need to sustain yourself until a solution is found, and your stomach is not adapted to digest the food you are used to. I may be able to find you some nutritional pellets given time, but in the short term this is the best I can- oh. You are already eating it. That is well, then.” He wasn’t sure whether or not he should be perturbed by her complete lack of hesitation, but he reasoned that there were places in the world where insects and other vilekin were eaten as an alternative source of protein. Or perhaps she was simply very hungry. Either way, it made his evening easier than he had anticipated. He dropped a few more crickets into her enclosure before explaining:

“Now, I am going to eat my own dinner, do some paperwork, and go to bed. In the morning, we can decide what we will do with you during the day.”

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Erenville squinted at the scribbles on the page, tapping the tip of his quill on the ink blotter beside him. “I cannot read this Archon’s handwriting,” He complained to the spectating frog.

There was only so much surface space in the room, so the tank he had procured now took up a sizable portion of his writing desk. She had watched as he sat down with his various request forms and maps to chart the course of his next excursion. He had not anticipated that he would become so self-conscious with her observing him. There was no reason for the feeling; he was merely filling out itineraries and budgets and she was, well, a frog. But the discomfort persisted, so he had taken to idly commenting on his work to her to both ease the discomfort and entertain her.

He picked up the form with his free hand and held it in front of the tank for her to see. “What do you think this is supposed to say?”

“Ribbit.”

“As I thought,” he said, pulling the paper away and setting it back on the desk. “Totally illegible.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Warrior of Light nod in agreement.

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He was awoken in the morning by the chiming of the small clock at his bedside and the first traces of dawn trickling in past the partially drawn curtain. He sat up, groggily, and reached over to silence the bells. After staring blearily ahead for a minute or two, he rubbed the rest of the sleep out of his eyes and stood up to begin his morning routine.

This familiar ritual eventually led him to the tiny kitchenette, where he set about making himself some morning tea. He plucked up the kettle he had left on the countertop the night before, popped open the lid, and began filling it with water…

And almost dropped it when the kettle croaked loudly and jolted in his hands. Startled, he fumbled the teapot and sent the small amount of water within it sloshing. When he regained a steady grip, he peered inside to see his new friend staring up at him, affronted, skin glistening with moisture.

“What…?” It took his tired thoughts a few seconds to catch up to him, and when they did he found himself both bewildered and annoyed. He reached into the kettle and scooped the Warrior of Light out of it. He held her up to examine her. “How did you find yourself in my teapot? And, if I may add, why?” The frog squeaked, but he found he was unable to interpret an answer. From the evidence, he could only surmise that at some point in the night she must have escaped her habitat, hopped into the kitchenette, climbed up onto the countertop, and then climbed or leapt into the kettle. Presumably, the jostling of the frog inside it had caused the lid to fall closed, trapping her.

He narrowed his eyes at her, but he couldn’t tell if there was any contrition in her frog-y expression. “You are lucky I did not accidentally boil you alive, my friend.” He scolded as he turned back towards the writing desk.

As he drew close enough to see it, he stopped and groaned. In the light of the growing sunrise, he could see the branch she had used to climb out of the tank…which had evidently been positioned directly over where his inkwell had been sitting, because it appeared she had knocked it over in her escape. The papers and maps on his desk were now covered in black frog-prints from where she had explored. It appeared from the tracks that she had gone back and forth a few times, though whether it was in an effort to locate something, to clear the ink from her feet, or to make some sort or abstract artwork he wasn’t sure. From there, she had jumped to the floor, and had also knocked over the small wastepaper basket beside the desk for good measure. It looked as if she had rifled through its contents, though he couldn’t fathom why she would do so. Scraps of paper and other detritus were strewn about the foot of his desk.

He stared at the mess, then back down at the frog squirming in his hands. “I see you found yourself bored in the night.” He observed, deadpan. He was silent for a moment, then heaved a sigh. “Well, I suppose leaving you alone here during the day is not an option.”

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #erenville #rhiki tag #auggie writes #i don't know what to tell you fam #this is perhaps the silliest AU i've ever conceived #if no one else is amused by it at least /I/ am

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lovecolibri · 1 year

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Buck nearly DIED and we didn't get to hear a WORD from Eddie about it or have anyone ask how HE was doing or talk about how he might be struggling like they did with Buck after Eddie's shooting, or have anyone even mention that Eddie was hit with the same lightning bolt as Buck, enough to throw him right off the truck. So I think we're absolutely justified to bitch this week too if Eddie, canonically Buck's BEST and CLOSEST friend, is not allowed near him during his recovery.

"There's only 42 minutes, they can't fit everythi-" STFU, they absolutely CAN and DID for like, almost 4 seasons. The problem isn't the amount of time in the episode, the problem is the showrunner and what she thinks is or is not important to see on screen. She spent 10 minutes setting up that spider call that only needed to be the 2 minutes from the guy calling 911 forward, and then tacked Eddie's breakdown onto the last 2 minutes of the episode. It's bad writing. She knows how much run time an episode is, it's not like, a surprise each week how much time they get. These are deliberate choices to not show certain characters, dynamics, or conversations on screen. 🤷🏻‍♀️

#911 #911 spoilers #eddie diaz #buddie #kr go work on a soap opera and leave our weewoo fam alone forever challenge #sorry not sorry for being grouchy #but it's not some grand plan it's a deliberate choice by a showrunner who doesn't like the buck/eddie dynamic #or clearly eddie as a character much at all #and i just think if you keep praising a show for feeding you crumbs and telling everyone to shut up and be grateful for what you get #then the show will just....keep doing the literal least amount possible just because they can #ANYWAY

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eveninglottie · 23 days

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me trying to think of ways to advertise my small business:

I probably can't just cry and beg strangers to be nice and give me money huh

#start a candle business she said #it'll be fun she said #for two months i put off the reality that selling online means i need to advertise myself #and i will tell you what fam it is not gucci in my brain right now lol

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divinekangaroo · 6 days

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just enough to let me drown - pettiot - Peaky Blinders (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | ? | ?

During S6-E5, starting with Tommy meeting Diana at the narrowboat, how he gets back to Arrow, that particular Dinner, through to Tommy returning home after dropping Jack Nelson off at the train.

Tommy was running out of women who didn’t look like other women. If Lizzie found out, he’d have only redheads left to fuck in his old age.

No. No old age. Only this.

Diana Mitford/Tommy Shelby, Past Oswald Mosley/Tommy Shelby, Tommy Shelby/Lizzie Stark, Past Oswald Mosley/Lizzie Stark, Jack Nelson, Charles Strong, Small Heath Sex Worker | Reference to Incest, Dehumanisation, Cigarette Burns, Disassociation, Racism, Class Issues, Intrusive Thoughts, Extremely Dubious Consent, Post Rationalisation, Flashbacks, Dyfunctional Relationship, Self Harm, Oral Trauma, Trauma, Plausible Deniability, Close POV/Unreliable Narration, Horrible Dinner Parties, Prostitution, Shame, Hurt/Comfort, Eating Inedible Objects, Vomiting, Pre-Seizure Markers, Where Fascism becomes a Personally Targetted Sexual Nightmare, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Falling Off the Wagon, Unreliable Memory, Hoarding, Orgasm Control, Innuendo, Ethnic Slurs, Trying (so fucking hard!) to Communicate (emotion is the enemy of oratory!), Spiralling, Purposeful Ambiguity, Failed Love Confession/s