It Doesn't Matter The Universe, There's Always Going To Be A John Tracy 22,400 Miles Up On His Space

Happy Together (1997) | dir. Wong Kar-wai

How to spot signs and symptoms of Breast Cancer 

Hot take: Actual literary analysis requires at least as much skill as writing itself, with less obvious measures of whether or not you’re shit at it, and nobody is allowed to do any more god damn litcrit until they learn what the terms “show, don’t tell” and “pacing” mean.

thinking about fictional language subtleties again and the potential of like, having different pronouns for like different regenerations. like 12 to missy would be like “you” but 12 to simm would be like “You” and 12 to dhawan would be like “yOu” and the opportunities for little mistakes like 13 addressing dhawan with a “You” instead of a “you” as if she were talking to missy

“if the history between us means anything to You”

the master retaliating of course with maybe a different ‘us’ than 13 used idk i havent worked out usses yet

or 12 in 10x12 purposefully addressing simm in that final speech with a “you” instead of a “You”, pulling him into the present. “im talking to you now. our relationship is one that still exists here and now, it’s not past” stuff like that

So, it's a well know fact that Eight smells of honey, so what do you think the rest of the Doctors would smell like (Yankee Candle Gallifrey Limited Edition Scents Range?)?

this is an incredible question, and i'm extra excited to answer it because i have smell-color/texture synesthesia! most of my senses overlap significantly - so let's switch on the smell-o-vision and see what's up.

first doctor: the attic. dust, vanilla, clean linen, wool. creaking floor boards. the smell that i associate with a bright window in a dark room. warmth. old, yellowing books. humming. somewhere in the distance, windchimes.

second doctor: the back garden. gardenias, petunias, roses. sweet but earthy. grass and rich, damp soil. cold water. a brook babbling over large, rounded rocks. a recorder. two people talking quietly, then laughing.

third doctor: the garage. metal, oil rags, newspapers, old boxes. clean clothes and grimy hands. a sigh of relief. someone scratching out notes with a fountain pen. operatic singing, including the instrumentals.

fourth doctor: the parlor. honeyed whiskey, smoke, old rugs, books. a drunken game of charades. a gramophone playing softly. glasses clinking. loud, booming laughter. scattered applause and a bow.

fifth doctor: the lawn. freshly cut grass, a cup of afternoon darjeeling with lemon. falling asleep in the sunshine while reading. "tangy." daisy chains. birds singing, friends strolling. ozone - chances of rain later. pages turning.

sixth doctor: the scullery. eggs, toast, ham, and fresh fruit. a spice cabinet. lavender soap. freshly-brewed coffee: two creams, three sugars. morning sunlight through a window prism. reading the paper with your feet up. a friendly and intellectual discussion.

seventh doctor: the library. ink, parchment, leather, your grandfather's cologne. brass knobs on locked mahogany doors. a clock ticking on the mantle. vases filled with fresh lilies. dusty photo albums. someone muttering. typewriter keys clacking. ding.

eighth doctor: the music room, adjacent to the library. the scents mingle with lemon furniture polish, old brocade upholstery, and oil paintings. velvet and satin. darjeeling with honey. an open window. sandalwood. a violin: the whole house sings with it.

shalka doctor: the basement near the cellar. red wine, cheese, oak, cinnamon. chaise lounges, wooden chests, decorative beaded lampshades from the 1920s. an Édith Piaf record plays quietly. framed sepia pictures on every surface. a fireplace glows with embers; he's taking a nap. there's a plate of snickerdoodles on the mantle. (thanks, six.)

war doctor: he hasn't been home in a while.

ninth doctor: the main stairway, just past the foyer. a little trace of every room, plus the metal slag and sulfur on his clothes. a dab of vanilla. halfway up the stairs or halfway down? up, he decides. humming, he reaches the top and wipes the blood from his boots. he hangs his jacket on a hook and smiles.

tenth doctor: the master bedroom, if you can call it that. it's mostly storage space: boxes, filing cabinets, drawers, antique desks, and shelves crammed with mementos. maps cover the walls, but he rarely looks at them. his bed is always made, and never slept in. wood pulp, musk, candle wax, ink, and roses.

eleventh doctor: the games room. chalk, polish, tea brewing, a splash of whiskey from the decanter. billiards and backgammon sets. the Candy Land and Monopoly boxes are well-loved but shelved. the arcades along the back wall are dark and dusty. in a corner, a man plays both sides of chess. he sighs.

twelfth doctor: the office. wood paneling, Persian rugs, a jukebox. piles and piles of ungraded essays. a coffee with ten sugars and a peeled orange. black nail polish, chocolate, spice. every book in the room has been read and annotated, twice. dents in the ceiling from throwing and catching a cricket ball. somewhere, a guitar strums. laughter.

thirteenth doctor: the balcony. fresh air. a hammock creaks. an empty flask of vodka, pink sunglasses, rainbow socks with toes. crystals and half-finished machines litter the stone. plants in painted pots, little gurgling fountains, trays of homemade incense baking in the sun. oh, and windchimes.

so, this turned into a bit of a poetry project, haha.... oops. if you got this far, i congratulate you. in the same way that Yankee Candle names can be very abstract, i wanted to capture the general mood of the doctors' scents and how they relate. ❤

…i may have put way too much time into this

not to be native on main but like, it’s everyone’s responsibility to steward the land they’re on. like you’re required. if you’re in america the people who own the land aren’t around to steward it so pick up the slack. learn how people cultivated and cared for the land you’re on. if you’re an animist there’s really no excuse. man, i get disabilities and stuff (i’m disabled myself) but you gotta do something. get some native grasses and toss em into your yard. mow your grass a little higher. leave a little strip that’s completely untouched so native wildlife can take residence there. cultivate a relationship with the land you’re on, not only for magical reasons (and you WILL get magical benefits) but also because the earth is deserving of love and respect in itself. 

“The Perfect Heist Hack”

Fun Fact: I modified a pair of pants for this sketch so I could hold 30 feet of rope and a full-sized grappling hook in the pant leg. Useful!

featuring Jordan Hare

We are sharing some of our favourite gifs each day this month for Antifa International’s fifth anniversary. Today: Nazi monuments being destroyed after the defeat of Nazi Germany.

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