#yeah she's sooooo normal

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Roxy: I'm pretty normal honestly.

Roxy: Despite what my maximum security clearance and my eyes that see through walls may say about me.

[simplepotatofarmer]

i took a nap earlier while my oldest watched brittney m. crockpot and cupid so i could stay up tonight and watch them, just in case. we've never let a hen raise a chick before so i'm a little paranoid, especially since cupid means a lot to me.

but she's doing so good. she's such a sweet mama and it makes me tear up, especially knowing her history.

also cluck decided not to be broody now so i think i made the right choice in which hen i picked.

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

sometimes..so.etimes they change something even after the premiere. sp you appear and watch an entirely new and prolonged monologue. and it's like. FUCK YEAH.

[coconut530]

Bump in the Night & Sleeptober Day 6: An Untimely Death & Pyre

@whitejawz

[wayfinderships]

Good evening gamers!!! Just wanted to wish you all a good night! I had a very nice night <3 Also expect some new f/os to be added tomorrow!

[elemom]

akita should have killed the ice emperor i will scream it from the rooftops

AKITA SHOULD HAVE KILLED THE ICE EMPEROR

[talentforlying]

☎️ 👀

day 2.

' ey, luv. just wanted to 'ear your voice. '

low, raspy, tired. just the sort of thing you'd expect from a late-night caller, spouting cheap lines from soppy B-movies with titles along the lines of no place like home for the holidays. a little more easy-breezy casual than you'd expect from someone cuddled up to an ansaphone.

' best be keepin' safe, an' all. tell me not t'cause trouble, you're the bleedin' poster child for it. how m'i supposed to keep from gettin' bored without you around, eh? '

the rustle of sheets as he stretches, sighs. brief, content silence, like an audible glow at the end of the line.

' don't make fun of me f'i say i miss you already. i do. i 'ope whatever it is you're doin' works and it en't hard, an' you end up back 'ere before i open my eyes in the morning. f'not, you just drop us a line, yeah, an' i'll come by to 'elp. wherever it is you are. i'll find a way. '

it's quiet again, but not silent. the creak of a mattress, the pad of bare feet on wood, the pouring of a drink. humming, soft and absent-minded. a sip, and a sigh. a smack of lips. sharing a late night with her, even when she's not around to hear.

' right. i'll let you go, then. you be good, now. '

day 12.

' oi, i know a couple days is relative to you n'i, but at least drop a line at the end of week one, yeah? so i know you're still breathin'? '

light and humorous, syllables tripping in the dizzy spirals of sleeplessness. there's crashing in the background, like someone's going to town on a hunk of metal with a wrench. it fades slightly with a shuffle of shoes in dirt, as though he's belatedly realized the potential for eardrum damage and stepped away.

' been workin' me tail off over 'ere, chasin' ghost stories. been some weird shite with the veil between worlds recently, gettin' thinner in places. nothin' cataclysmic, mind, easy fixes all. but i wouldn't mind havin' my best girl at me side, one'o these times. smooths things over when there's a less breakable pretty face around. '

the banging in the background stops, followed by a vague holler. a laugh barks into the receiver, half-mischief, half-mocking.

' chas sends 'is love. as best he can do, anyways, you know chas. try t'dig the one stick out of his arse, all you'll wind up with is two — geroff! '

the scuffled sounds of wrestling take up the line, phone speaker knocking between fingers and furniture as scouse and london overlap incoherently in a battle for dominion of speech. it's almost a full minute before a hasty ' alright, alright, fuck! ' that signals surrender ( point to chas ) and the clatter subsides, voice returning to the speaker with a scornful huff.

' big pillock. anyway, you 'eard him, love and all that. be well, yeah? chuck us a good word when you've got the chance, you know it'd give me peace'o mind an' all. see you soon, i hope. '

day 52.

' c'mon, answer. ' curt, stressed, stern. teetering on a cliff-edge between detached and despairing. ' fucking answer, lilly. whatever you've gotten yerself into, whatever's happened, i need to 'ear you say you're fine. or you're not fine, or you're bloody well awful, or you 'ate my guts and have fucked off to switzerland to become a nun. something. give me something. '

a sharp, shuddering breath in. the thud of a fist against a solid surface from close-range: table, maybe, from the accompanying rattle and the slither of paper to the floor. pacing steps chase more haphazard sounds across wood, like rolling bottles and the skitter of scattered pencils.

' just give me one word. ' there's no hard edge to that one, no stoic pretense; he sounds lonely. he sounds like he's grieving. ' please. just . . . pick up the bloody phone. give me one word, an' i won't call again. '

long, long silence. the sharp snikt of a lighter flicking open and on, and the accompanying sizzle of paper catching a little too close to the speaker. a deep breath in, a harsh one out.

then a frustrated growl, and the crunch of glass.

day 120.

' "gone for a few days". ' it's acid, chemical backwash from a long night and a few bevs and four months of radio silence. he sounds bitter, sounds scraped-thin — sounds a few bottles off from making friends with the toilet seat. ' cosmic bleedin' check-up. i found yer fucking note, y'know. doesn't make it any better. you should've told me to my bloody face, 'cos this? this is . . . this is. '

clink and clatter of glass rolling, a wordless snarl with no bite. long, steady silence, with the soft rustle of hands in hair.

' haven't stopped looking, but i can't find you. you know i can't find you, don'tje? did you plan it like that? to just up n'leave and i'll never see you again? that's fucked, lilly. you know that's fucked. '

a low, aching laugh, angry and desperate and beyond anything else, exhausted, and the clumsy thud of fingers seeking out the end button that almost drowns out the rest:

' do you care? '

day 164.

nothing spoken; just the soft sounds of movement. quiet breaths, shaky at the ends, unsteady. too loud to be self-soothing, too quiet to be shameless.

there's a few hitching starts, like he's going to speak. a swallow here, a half-formed consonant there. it comes to nothing.

the call comes to nothing.

day 260.

' i'm done. '

this voice is flat. hollowed out of anything and everything he might have wanted to give her. something's been lost between this call and the last, something irreplaceable, something ripped and carved and flayed out of him. even the shiver of loss that threatens to trip his tongue is muted, like it's coming from thousands of fathoms below the sea, where mortal things either evolve under pressure or crush like aluminium cans.

he didn't evolve.

' this is maudlin. it's not doing any good. you're just as dead as my s — ' a muted sound, choking on something unvoiced. a swallow so loud it pops in the speaker. he returns compacted, composed, syllables strung so crisp and tight there's no way for emotion to creep between the lines. ' . . . and if you're not, you made your decisions. i'm not in 'em. so let's pack it in and quit while we're ahead, yeah? before you ruin me pretty speech and pick up the phone. '

this silence builds on itself like static: longer than all the rest, and heavier. weighing down, and down, and down.

finally, after a breadth of time so long it goes immeasurable, an empty little chuckle.

' yeah. s'what i thought you'd say. '

day 300.

340. 350. 360.

day 364.

a drink and a note slide along the bar top. he looks up.

he won't look anywhere else for hours.

@asteritm / MIDNIGHT CALLS

[szczylpierdolony]

the actually worst part of doing things alone is getting other people to not want to go with you

[handcat]

my friend recently went on adderal and was describing the difference between how she was before and after and i Realized…. i 100% fit her before symptoms…..

[lighthouseas]

so there's this girl at my work

[ssaalexblake]

And I still think people fail to clock lucy saxon as a failed moment of class commentary. She didn’t give a single shit if normal people suffered, because if her rich upperclass english ass was dealing out the hurt then it was a non issue to her. The second the master victimised her, she hated him. She hated him because he hurt Her. She shot him because he hurt Her. Not because he did all those other things, That she rejoiced in. She was complicit and even an active perpetrator. 

She’s a dark mirror to the Doctor’s companions just as the master is a dark mirror to the doctor. The doctor and their companions save the world Together. The companions take credit. And so, flipped on its head, Lucy should take the blame for her part in what was done and ten painting her only as a victim is a robbing of her agency and a total defanging of any commentary on how the upper class treats the rest of us. As in, everything goes so long as it doesn’t hurt Them. 

Why did they think we had to be on team lucy to get a kick out of her shooting the master? Her motivations for doing so are absolutely sound Without her being portrayed as an innocent or even slightly sympathetic. What she did was absolutely abhorrent, her being victimised was also wrong and while I cannot tell you how unimpressed I am by simm’s straight up domestic violence phase, I also contain the ability to know that that was wrong Without reducing her as a character to anything But the victim. That’s a whole other issue in itself for reasons outside of class commentary. 

She was english old family rich, used to a certain status in life because of it, and got a meal ticket to continue this. It went wrong. It went wrong only when it hurt her. How very typical of the behaviour of that class of people. They didn’t need to Say anything about class in this story, they just needed to not paint her as merely a victim and it would have spoken for itself.  

[irhabiya]

being a stand in sp because there weren't enough for the clinical lab and having everyone give me concerned looks while checking my pulse shjsksk

[hella1975]

loveeeeeeee when my one very spoilt flatmate says some shit about how she treats her mum/how she talks to her mum and me and my other flatmate just look at each other for a silent moment and both just go 'no id be dead'

[pebblezone]

succumbing to the illness. becoming a hater. anyway look at this building they’re fucking destroying

[meitantei-lavi]

lowkey considering starting a gofundme for my poor little animal...

[rhysnolastname]

I wanna go home and play dragon age