#a couple of notes here:

[abstractfrog]

SILVER BLAZE PART THREE - happy jonkday everyone. one of these days i'll draw a scene that doesn't take place at night

[stark-lord]

Which could, of course, mean nothing.

+ bonus

[unproduciblesmackdown]

Lackadaisy Enrichment

[eerna]

imma be so real with you I did NOT care for all the cutesy ways they presented Vi and Cait's disbalanced social status in arc 3

[1driedpersimmon]

Been too tired lately to do full drawings here’s some text post memes

[gunsatthaphan]

#A+ wingman 🪳

[andstuffsketches]

a selection of robins

[its-ur-lucky-day]

I think about this scene a looooot... so much so that I drew it, lol.

Like are you kidding me???

You know, just a couple of guys.

[suddencolds]

of painkillers and lenience

...hello! 😭 I wrote this way back in April; it's been sitting in my drafts ever since. Chronologically, it takes place shortly following Atypical Occurrence.

I wasn't sure if I was ever going to post this. I suppose it's more a character study than a proper romantic installment :') but it's an exchange I'd been wanting to write for a long time.

you can find everything I've written in this universe here!

—

Summary: Yves comes down with something. His best friend wonders where Vincent is, in all of this.

—

Perhaps it’s merciful that it’s on a Sunday that Yves wakes up with the slightest tickle in his throat.

Yves has an idea what it means. He’s had the flu enough times in his life to know that it comes on quickly. Maybe if he attempts to sleep it off, he’ll have a better time over the next few days.

Or maybe not. He cancels his Sunday plans, goes through his itinerary. There’s a slew of emails he’ll have to send off, a handful of meetings he’ll probably have to reschedule for this coming work week. He’ll need groceries, too, to last him the week—ideally something that won’t take too much effort to make. Resting now seems like it’d be a waste of time. Best to get everything over with before the illness has a chance to properly settle, he thinks. 

He really does mean to stop by the grocery store. It’s perhaps just the timing that doesn’t work out as planned. Between figuring out how to reschedule everything that’s coming up with work—figuring out who he can ask if he needs to reallocate any of his assignments to anyone else, rearranging things for clients, and getting all the paperwork in order—all of it takes him nearly two hours. He wanders into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, finds himself having to turn aside to cough, notes the unpleasant sting in his throat when he turns back around. 

It’s not terrible yet, but he feels distinctly off. His head feels a little heavy, and everything he does feels strangely—sluggish, maybe. Like he can’t quite manage to be as efficient as usual. Judging by past experience, he’s probably going to crash in a few hours.

He can already feel a headache brewing. Staring at his computer screen probably hasn’t helped with that. If he takes something for it, it’ll probably be at least tolerable when it gets worse.

He opens the medicine cabinet, rifles through the couple bottles and the first aid kit he has stashed in there.

Right. He’s out of Advil.

It’s no matter. Just a quick grocery trip, then—he can grab the rest of his groceries while he’s at it. Yves shuts the bathroom cabinet, grabs his wallet and keys, and makes it all the way to the doorstep outside when the wave of dizziness hits him.

All of a sudden, he feels a little lightheaded. Heat crawls up under his skin, prickling and unpleasant, as if something in him has cranked up the heat generation to the max—but that can’t be right, because he’s shivering inexplicably in the wake of it. He leans his weight back against the wall, squeezes his eyes shut.

Fuck. He probably should have gotten groceries first, before sorting out everything for work. Perhaps going out on his own now would not be the wisest.

He heads back in, locks the door, and—after some thought—calls Mikhail.

Mikhail picks up on the second ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Are you busy?” Yves starts, but the words catch on his throat, and he has to stop immediately to muffle a cough into his elbow. 

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “It depends what you’re about to ask me for,” Mikhail says.

Yves swallows. Shuts his eyes. He doesn’t like asking for help, but he doesn’t think he’ll be in any state to be doing this on his own over the next few days. “It’s not that urgent. Just if you have time,” he says. 

He can almost feel Mikhail rolling his eyes on the other end. “You’d say that even if you were bleeding out.”

Yves laughs, startled. “I promise I’m not bleeding out. Just—do you think you could run to the store and get me some Advil?”

There’s another, longer pause on the other end. “Any time is fine,” Yves says. A part of him already regrets this. “If you’re busy right now—”

“I’ll be over in a few,” Mikhail says. Then the line goes dead.

—

He doesn’t remember drifting off, but when he wakes, it’s to a knock on the front door.

The knock is just for courtesy, of course. Mikhail is one of a few people whom he’s permitted the privilege—or the burden, perhaps—of having a spare copy of his apartment key.

Yves opens the door anyways.

There, in the windy April weather, Mikhail shuts an umbrella and leaves it dripping at his feet. “You look even worse than you sounded over call,” is the first thing he says.

Yves blinks at him, surprised. “Did I really sound that bad?”

In lieu of answering, Mikhail just looks at him, scrutinizing, the corner of his lip ticking downward. “What is it? An injury? A migraine?” When Yves shakes his head, Mikhail presses forward to pick a stray lint ball off of Yves’s shirt. His hand makes contact with Yves’s shoulder, and he frowns.

Before Yves has a chance to explain, he feels a tickle—not the first, today, and certainly not the last—surface. It’s irritatingly difficult to ignore, more irritating still when he finds himself forced to turn away, to duck into one arm—

“hHehh-!’ hEHh’yyiISCHh-HHEEW!”

The sneeze is rough enough to scrape against his throat. He coughs tightly into his raised arm.

“A cold,” Mikhail says, with a frown. “But usually you don’t take Advil for colds. Wait—don’t tell me this is something worse?”

Yves winces. What is he supposed to say to that? “The Advil was all I needed,” he says. “Thanks for making the trip. I owe you one.”

“No, I’m sure of it now,” Mikhail says. “If it were only a cold, you would’ve driven out to get this yourself.”

“It probably isn’t,” Yves says, neglecting to mention that he knows exactly where he caught this. “Thanks for bringing these. I’ll take the next couple days off. I—”

The next sneeze sneaks up on him. He ducks into his sleeve again, taking another step back.

“hHhEH’iiDzzsCHH-yYew!” The sneeze sends a burst of pain through his temples, and for a moment, he’s glad his face is too deeply buried into his sleeve for Mikhail to see.

“Does Vincent know?” Mikhail asks.

The question catches him off guard. “What?”

“That you’re apparently unwell enough to ask me to pick up Advil for you.”

Yves doesn’t like where this conversation is going. “I told you not to come if you were busy.”

“It’s not a problem,” Mikhail says. “But if you’re sick, shouldn’t he be over here, taking care of you?”

 “He’s had a really busy few weeks,” Yves says, which is true, but simultaneously might be true at any point during the year. He clears his throat. “I - coughcough - wouldn’t want him to catch this.”

“So he doesn’t even know,” Mikhail says.

…Perhaps Yves should’ve thought of a more convincing excuse. Mikhail isn’t the type of person to drop an issue after he’s raised it, and Yves had, perhaps, neglected to think about how—for all Mikhail does to appear casually disaffected—he’s one of the most perceptive people Yves has ever met. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“What are you talking about? He’s your partner. I’ll text him,” Mikhail says. It’s then when Yves recalls that Mikhail probably does have Vincent’s contact—exchanged before their trip to France, so that he could text them all to coordinate the rides to and from the airport.

“Wait,” Yves says, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. “Don’t. If you text him, he’ll - snf-! - feel obligated to come.”

Mikhail doesn’t lower his phone. “I’ll just ask him to drop by,” he says. “You can talk to him about it when he gets there.”

But that won’t happen—can’t happen—because Yves knows that if Vincent were to see him like this… 

I’d feel terrible if you caught this, he’d said. He’d sounded so upset over it. How can Yves, after all his reassurances last week, admit to him now that he’s faring badly enough to need someone to look after him? 

Besides, Vincent probably has enough on his plate already. Yves knows enough to know that in their line of work, taking time off almost always means being swamped with assignments upon return. 

“Please don’t ask him anything,” Yves says.

Mikhail looks long and hard at him. He looks as though he’s trying to puzzle something out. “Did you guys get into a fight, or something?”

“No,” Yves says. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then, if you’re on good terms, why are you so resistant to the idea of him coming over?”

Yves squeezes his eyes shut, and then opens them. He can think of a dozen more excuses to field away the questions—that isn’t the hard part. Mikhail has always been good at seeing through his bullshit, but if Yves has to steer this conversation to a close through sheer willpower, he thinks he can do it. But then again—

Maybe it’s fine, he thinks, if Mikhail knows. For better or for worse, Mikhail is his best friend. Yves knows that if he asks him to keep his mouth shut about this, he will. 

“Vincent is my coworker,” he says, slowly.

Mikhail’s eyebrows creep up. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Yves says, with a cough. “He is just my coworker. Nothing else.”

The alarm that flashes across Mikhail’s face is unmissable. “You two broke up?”

And there it is—another crossroads, where Yves thinks the easiest course of action would be to reshape the current lie into a simpler one, to keep the trappings of their fake relationship intact. With anyone else, it would be easier, that is.

Yves says, honestly, “We were never together in the first place.”

“But you went with him to France,” Mikhail says, confused. “Not to mention, to Margot’s new year party, and then to Joel and Cherie’s housewarming. Are you telling me—”

“That was all an act,” Yves tells him, and waits for this information to register. “There is nothing between us that’s real. That’s the reason I haven’t called him.”

The recognition settles on Mikhail’s face. Then he laughs, a little disbelieving. “You’re really not dating him? Why would you lie about that?”

“Do you remember Margot’s party?” Yves asks. It seems like the right place to start, after everything. “Erika was there with Brendon. And I was bitter, and—to be honest, jealous—and I wanted to show her I was fine. So I asked Vincent to go with me.”

“That was months ago,” Mikhail says.

“It was easier to just keep up the act, after that.” Yves says. “Easier to have him accompany me once a month than it would have been to stage a proper breakup. But obviously, this is all temporary. I just haven’t figured out when it’s going to end.”

Mikhail is quiet for a moment. Yves looks past him, at the staircase that leads down to the first floor.

“You’ll be fine, then,” he asks. “If you two break it off.”

“Of course,” Yves says. “I know it’s going to happen someday.”

“You won’t be upset at all?”

“What is there to be upset over?”

“From the way you spoke to him, I really thought there was something there,” Mikhail says.

“He is a good liar,” Yves says.

“Maybe so,” Mikhail agrees. “But you are not.”

He says it so calmly, it barely registers as an accusation. But Yves hears it, loud and clear.

“Vincent is attractive,” Yves says. “Anyone with eyes can see that. That’s all there is to it.” it feels wrong, even as he says it. Yves has always known Vincent to be attractive—that much hasn’t changed. But he knows that the feeling in his chest when he sees him at work, in the break room, or at lunch—the unusual ache—is a little more than that. 

“Margot’s party was at the end of December,” Mikhail says. “It’s April, now. Margot wouldn’t tell you this, but since I don’t like withholding my feelings from you, I will.”

Yves waits—waits for Mikhail to tell him how all of this has been unduly dishonest, how Mikhail doesn’t appreciate having been lied to.

But Mikhail doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says: “If you’re still intent on keeping this fake relationship up…” Here, he meets Yves’s eyes, a little sternly. “You should think about who you’re really doing it for.”

It’s only for convenience, Yves wants to say. Now that we’ve set things up already, it’s merely the path of least resistance. But that isn’t quite right, is it?

“Don’t worry about me,” Yves says, trying a smile. “Vincent and I have talked this through already. Whatever happens with our arrangement, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Mikhail says. He pockets his phone, and then hands Yves the bottle of Advil. “Sorry for the interrogation, then. If you believe it to be fine, I trust you.” Perhaps that’s the worst part of it. Mikhail has never been the type of person to stay quiet about any foreseeable problems, but Yves knows that his agreement now is not a tactical retreat, nor is it an acknowledgment that it’s not worth arguing over something they won’t agree on. Mikhail is dropping the subject because he really trusts him.

Yves just doesn’t know if that trust is justified.

Mikhail turns on his heels, steps delicately past the hinge at the bottom of the doorframe. 

Yves clears his throat. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Mikhail nods. “Feel better soon. If you need anything other than Advil, just give me a call.”

Then he’s gone. Yves shuts the front door behind him and wonders just what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

[calmbigdipper]

What you mean to me

[dovalore]

the world can change when i hit the summit!

[tiny-crescent]

ruby

did a little scene rewrite fic for the iconic Misa/Kiyomi dinner scene.

♡

(in which two women who hate each other but don't really hate each other, but can't figure out why, or maybe they know exactly why and don't want to admit it, end up having sex on the floor. is maybe... what it boils down to.)

[horreurscopes]

watching death note and house of the dragon simultaneously earlier this year did something permanent to my galaxy brain

[respectthepetty]

MosBank being the little instigators setting off Neil to Orca's hijinks is Thai-on-Thai violence, and I love it.

Starting shit and minding other people's business knows no language barrier.

[my-name-is-apollo]

Speaking of coins, I think it's neat that we have a trinity of Apollos with uncommon characteristics:

Apollo Karneios with ram horns and ram ears, Apollo Soranus with a star diadem and a pick-axe and Apollo Vejovis with winged head, a trident and a dagger. (The last two are the results of his syncretism with Roman deities)

What's more fun about the coins of Apollo-Vejovis is that some of them put a thunderbolt under his bust or straight up show him holding it:

And I can't help but think of this being equivalent to a girl wearing her mom's makeup for the photo day

[lookmomitsmytmblr]

OKAY so I am re-listening to "Death and The Queen" again and I am having Thoughts™.

I can't find any info about when this drama takes place continuity-wise, but my personal placement would be after "Planet of The Ood" (4x3) and before "The Sontaran Stratagem" (4x4) because 4x4-4x6 take place directly following each other with Donna stating at the end of 4x6 that she plans to travel with the Doctor forever. Donna's determination to continue traveling w him is in keeping with the conclusion of Death and The Queen, where she comes to the decision that the Doctor IS her "happily ever after," as it were. Placing the drama after "Fires of Pompeii" and "Planet of The Ood" also makes sense with Donna's desire in the audio drama to have a break from "the extraordinary" of traveling with the Doctor (specifically, horrific death and destruction,) which adds understandable context to her seemingly being so willing to leave the Doctor after searching for him for so long.

 (Don't talk to me about the ending of Forest of The Dead. It's unlikely Donna would have left the Doctor even if she found Lee. Donna's desire to confirm whether Lee was real could be easily contextualized by her wanting to know how much of her experiences inside CAL were a fabrication, and what the supposed "perfect husband" persona would have said about her if it was drawn from her own mind. Also it was written by Moffatt so it shouldn't count anyway.)

ANyway, what I actually wanted to talk about. Notably, considerable emphasis is placed on Donna enjoying her role as Queen and especially caring for her subjects and having power to help people. A greater amount of text is dedicated to her talking about how as Queen she can care for her subjects than her love for Rudolph, even before the reveal that he is human(?) trash. Her attachment to the role of Queen that marrying Rudolph will grant her is established to be largely based upon her passion for helping people rather than luxuries associated with rank, especially in view of the montage of how royal life on Gorotainia is not as glamorous as she hoped but is still enthralled by being Queen. Later in the story, when danger has appeared, her main role in the story is sacrificing and taking the lead to protect her subjects.

Notably, when things start going downhill and Rudolph starts talking to her about the difficult choices that he must make as royalty she comments that Rudolph is “just like HIM” (the Doctor) and that she went with Rudolph to escape these darker aspects of her travels with the Doctor, specifically the hard choices that go with the role the Doctor plays in the universe (while she doesn’t connect these concepts directly, these two statements are placed very close to one another textually.)

Only when her relationship with Rudolph and role as Queen seems like it will involve some of the same dark choices that her travels with Doctor did does Donna decide she doesn’t want to be involved anymore, which is quickly reversed when she finds out she needs to become Queen in order to protect her people. (I love Donna. In case you can’t tell.)

The narrative has established that a large part of Donna’s attachment to her relationship with Rudolph is potential authority to help and guide people, and that her main interest in pursuing a life with Rudolph rather than her travels with the Doctor was her perception that her role as Queen of Gorotainia would not involve the same death and destruction she has seen with the Doctor. Perfectly understandable after experiencing something like Pompeii.

Donna’s compassion and empathy have been essential components of her character since her introduction, with her wanting to protect the Doctor despite being irritated with him and feeling sorrow for the children of a Rancoss that wanted her to be eaten in “The Runaway Bride”, her taking the time to mention Stacy in “Partners In Crime,” and literally everything in “Fires of Pompeii” and “Planet of The Ood’. Donna has always taken the time and the energy to think of others and work to protect them, even this early in her run. In view of how deeply she feels the pain of others, it is understandable that she would find the idea of a world where she could help others from a position of power without all of the death and chaos and destruction appealing, and her outrage at Rudolph for once again putting her in a position where she has to witness (and potentially be responsible for) terrible things happening to innocent people is believable. He proves that being a Gorotainian royal is like being the Last of The Time Lords. On a smaller scale, sure, but still. 

So the text (and Donna) have set up the idea of Rudolph being similar to the Doctor in role, so what is the difference? Rudolph doesn’t much care about people. He is willing to sacrifice his own people quite coldly.

The Doctor does care about people. How good of a person he is, or how good of a job he does caring for people is up for debate, but he cares.

Which all leads me to this quote from “Beautiful Chaos,” that I cannot believe is cannon and real and published.

Why does Donna love the Doctor?

"I wish you could see what I see. We've been to places, to worlds, to futures and pasts you could only dream about. I think half of them I dreamed up because they can't be real. But they are. And everywhere we go, we make a difference. We put things right, we make people happier. That's what the Doctor is all about. He finds a way for the universe to make sense. And I love him for it.”

Donna Noble wants to make a difference. No matter where she goes, she cannot escape the death and pain and suffering and chaos and nonsense that is the universe, and she can’t help but want to help. And right there beside her, the Doctor is working to put things right too. And she loves him for it.

We have this entire drama dedicated to Donna wanting to make a difference, while also escaping the darkness of the universe, and she learns she can’t. There are no happily ever afters.

Except with the Doctor.

I have so many feelings guys.