imagine: you get your memories back after years of amnesia to find out your whole species is dead and earth doesn’t exist anymore. that the only thing left of your culture is your weird ex and his busted honda civic that barely even works that he stole from the government when he was 13. And he’s been taking members of an alien species for trips in his honda civic and they’re all like “woah it’s so cool” and you get upset because it’s NOT COOL it’s a honda civic, the turn signals don’t even work “wow it can go up hills” yeah OF COURSE IT CAN GO UP HILLS EVERY CAR COULD DO THAT. but they’ve never seen a car before so everything it does is the coolest thing ever. And your ex’s only tool is a fucking screwdriver which is somehow also cool to this dumbass alien species even though it’s a fucking screwdriver so you just look like an idiot screaming about how none of this is even cool it’s actually really shitty but your whole planet is gone so you can’t even prove it but also you’ve had a constant drumming sounding in your head since you were 10 slowly driving you insane. I would become evil too.
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nah because crofty is genuinely insane because why would you say that about your coworker???? and to his face??? "this man knows lewis hamilton. friends, teammates, childhood buddies, rivals, everything but a lover." hello???? why are you saying that to nico rosberg's face???? why are you, as the lead f1 commentator, writing fanfiction about your coworker???? about him and his ex???? and also, what an insane thing to say about someone else's relationship!!! "everything but a lover"... just show them having gay sex onscreen, it would be less intimate than whatever the hell you just said.
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and there will your heart be also
She’s been away five days and will be away two more.
He sneezes again, curses under his breath about it and gazes out the window for an uncertain time. It’s raining still, and bitterly cold. The flowers she’d left on the sill are starting to fade. Wintry sleet falls steadily, constantly, and he has a thousand things he’s supposed to do and he’s not doing a damn one of them, his focus both scattered and singular as he claims a tissue from the box by the flowers.
He wipes his nose firmly and recalls her placing the bouquet just so, fresh and vibrant, smiling at him so pleased with her arrangement of it all, her arms around him in soft devoted embrace. The ghost of her touch caresses him in memory; the image brings a suffusing warmth, and he loses himself to its comforting spectre.
For a moment, at least.
He sniffles, chilled despite the hearthfire’s radiant heat, and an ominous shiver runs through him. A catch in his throat follows, barbed and wicked. He frowns at it, shakes his head in an irritated, unspoken refutation of what it might imply. Any further acknowledgement of coming down with something is pushed as firmly from his thoughts as he can; he can’t be sick. It’s not going to…
Hh-HH…
It’s not… *snf!* Not going to happen. He won’t allow it. He won’t… *SNF!* It’s not…
His breath sharpcatches and all thoughts crumble capitulated to urgent, desperate sensation.
“HHTSSCH-uu! Hh-TSSSCH-uu! Ah, gods.” With a wetly insistent series of sniffles, he takes yet another tissue and, after a moment of consideration, another for good measure. Another.
He sighs.
And he misses her, and he misses her.
---
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whumper pretending to be mad just to see whumpee squirming and groveling and apologizing within a second because they don’t know what they did wrong but fuck they’re so so sorry and they’ll do anything to make it better—
“sir please—please let me make it up to you—I promise I’ll be better I swear—just please—”
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read the green bone saga this week and i’m just saying. if you want an in-depth political fantasy mafia thriller (yes all of those words apply) set in a post colonial nation that is navigating an unsure global political position and the potential exploitation of its culturally significant resource that simultaneously explores the bonds between family and how they can take different shapes in the wake of loss and love and life, with brilliantly developed, fleshed out characters and realistic pacing (both in world and in the actual delivery of the story). i HIGHLY recommend.
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Honestly a weird feeling I am experiencing for one of the first times is going back and reading my writing after not seeing it for a while and realizing that you actually were on to something and maybe you actually can write
Being like did I write this???
Like do i actually kind of know what I’m doing here???
I hate things when they are finished because they always feel cheap and unpolished, but like looking back at them, maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on myself
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NO other show in existence understands sister dynamics better than fleabag. especially from the perspective of older sisters i believe. having the same character yell "...you're fine! you'll always be fine. you'll always be interesting, with your quirky cafe and your dead best friend. you just make me feel like i've failed," AND "the only person i'd run through an airport for is you" !!!!!!!!! it's insane and it's exactly how i feel
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y'all big finish is fucking crazy anyways here's two art things I arted after listening to "master" (you know the audio drama in which it is revealed that the doctor beat another kid to death with a rock for bullying him and the master when he was eight. yeah you know. that one)
Here's the Gallifreyan translations
I spent six hours on these btw.... Totally not unhappy with how they came out
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I gotta say I did not expect I’d love Miles this much, enough to look up shit like Secret War and Civil War II reading order, and worse, subject myself to Bendis’ writing of all things (he’s the reason why I stopped being a comic stan 5 years ago. I were a DC/ Superfam fan. You know the beef was BEEFING). Like, my tolerance of that dude now only stops at him being one of Miles’ creators. So that better writers can do the kid justice years later. That’s it.
Like, why is the “r u and Ganke together haha” a whole shtick that comes up multiple times during his run? It’s so annoying and painful to read. Miles can go around being paired up with different girls but the moment THAT question came up you know he gonna be super defensive and >:( about it which, eh, just does not line up with anything else happening in whatever story is happening at the time. At all.
The only silver of light is that Miles actually never says he doesn’t like boys, he just denies ever dating Ganke. Like, he could just say he doesn’t swing that way and the question would have stopped, but he doesn’t. So I know he be running around kissing the punk-est boy in the whole spider verse, ha!
Idk I’m near the end of Bendis’ run and some of it r good but a lot of them put me thru excruciating pain (cringe) so I have to complain about it.
Did I mention I were a DC stan 6 years ago? I were a DC stan 6 years ago so this isn’t even my first rodeo with white dudes writing weirdest things in American comic, but I just can’t believe I got dragged into this again because Miles blinks his bambi eyes on screen and makes me want to rotate him in my brain so I need to know the lore of him in every medium, apparently.
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