Nellie-the-toad - ☆

As a rule of thumb, don't reblog donation posts or people asking for donations unless they've been vetted and reblogged by Palestinian bloggers. We usually go to lengths to verify this shit because we know scammers have been faking to get people to send them money, using the urgency of our genocide as bait.

It's disgusting this is what we're dealing with, but people are losing money because of some truly evil people out there.

Accounts don't just randomly spring up on tumblr without gofundmes while asking for someone to help them create a campaign. Fuck out of here with that shit.

I drink poison just because it doesnt hurt me and it makes you so mad

Escape (Renegade Nell fic)

Summary: Thomas can’t take it anymore. He runs away to London, hoping to escape his ghosts, only to end up right back where he started.

[Aka filling in some scenes between episodes 4-6.]

Notes: I’ve had this in my drafts for a while, but I realized we were sitting at 99 total fics on ao3 which motivated me to finally finish it and post. This is now the 100th fic yay! Also it almost feels like some scenes were cut in regard to Thomas, so I wanted to explore a little of what he was up to between scenes.

TW: ghosts (or hallucinations, who knows), drinking, self deprecation, canonical death/patricide, unhappy ending, kidnapping

AO3 link

Everywhere Thomas looked, his father’s dead face glared back at him. His father’s voice constantly mocked and berated him. It made him want to scream— sometimes he couldn’t stop himself.

And Poynton. Poynton was coming. Poynton who got them all into this mess. Poynton with his words like honeyed poison.

Thomas couldn’t take it. He had to escape. He snapped at the nearest servant to prepare the carriage, then stalked to his room to pack his things.

”Weak, pathetic, coward,” his father’s voice sneered.

Thomas flinched, but didn’t bother responding. He knew he was and he hated it. He couldn’t hold up the facade of being otherwise, not without help.

Not long after, he heard his sister’s footsteps approach. “What exactly are you doing?” Sofia asked.

“Leaving. Going to London. You can’t stop me.” Thomas stuffed some random clothes into a bag.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? With your—“

Thomas whirled on her. “Stop! Just stop. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going. If I stay here one day longer I’ll go mad. I can’t…” He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “You won’t listen to me about Poynton, fine. Dig your own grave, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I will not be under the same roof as him ever again.”

Sofia reached out to put a hand on his arm. “If you are truly set on this…” She sighed. “Perhaps a change of scene would be good for you. I’ll cover for you here. Just… be careful, please.”

Thomas shrugged her off. “Good. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” If ever.

“Will you at least write?”

“Maybe.” He doubted there would be much to write about, if he’d even be sober enough to string together anything coherent.

“Farewell, then.”

Thomas simply nodded to her and went back to preparing his things. He heard her footfalls retreat and the door close behind her.

~*~

London was as he remembered it. Bustling and loud and colorful. The perfect escape to lose himself in.

Time passed in a blur. He drank. He followed his old friends around to their usual hangouts. He fell back into old patterns of gambling and cards. He almost managed to forget. Sometimes he thought he saw a glimpse of his father’s ghost, but it would quickly be lost in the crowds. His friends helped distract him.

The hangovers were torturous, but he’d gladly take that over the horror that home had become. It was worth it. It had to be. What else could he do?

~*~

Then the worst happened. Poynton’s men found him in his room, while he was vulnerable and alone. Poynton strode over to him.

Thomas froze, staring at them. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? How much had he drank again? This couldn’t be happening. His head hurt, his stomach twisted in knots.

“Neither are you,” Poynton said, calm and collected as always, his voice soft almost to the point of patronizing. “I’m here to take you home, Thomas.”

“No!” Thomas staggered back and tripped over a chair. The fall didn’t help, he didn’t wake up. “No, I won’t go back! You can’t make me!”

Poynton looked down at him and sighed. “Please don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be. Let me help you.”

Thomas shrank back. “Leave me alone!”

“I promised your sister I would return with you. You wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings, now would you?”

She betrayed him. How could she? He never should have told her where he was going. He should have disappeared off the face of the earth entirely. No one would miss him.

“Come now, Thomas.” Poynton took a step closer and offered his hand. The snakes on his ring twisted and danced. Thomas couldn’t look away as much as he wanted to.

”Sleep, Thomas. Sleep. All will be well. Sleep,” the voices whispered.

The world went black.

~*~

The next time Thomas woke he was in his father’s bedroom, with his father’s ghost glaring at him.

There was no escape. Nowhere he could run without being dragged back to hell.

He screamed.

my sibling's reaction to this cake could only be expressed through art

gonna bake a cake when we hit hundred

i’m okay with change and i’m fine if things are no longer the same i embrace change