There’s a voice, and suddenly everything around you comes into focus. You see a hand waving insistently in front of your face.
“You okay? You need some air?”27 March 2018
Content warning: sex
The doctor is kneeling on top of the Tardis. They raise one of their hands; floating through the rings of a gas giant—imagine Saturn but lavender—particles twist around their sixth digit. They remember a quote from a Futurama episode: “The ship stays where it is, and the engine moves the universe around it.”
Content warning: violence, panic attack
FURY: Steve you are so good at fighting I’m giving you a promotion. Honestly I was worried about it because you are seriously traumatised and I’m asking you to go into life-threating combat situations but then I decided it will probably be okay.
— Don’t try so hard to be profound. It’s annoying.
— I’m writing how I feel.
— You were eating a chip when you had your first kiss. Okay. Gross. But the chip is not a symbol, Miranda. You don’t feel it flaccid, lukewarm, lodged at the back of your throat as you speak and especially when you remain silent. A potato is not the patriarchy. Anyway, what is this supposed to be? Is it a poem?
In memory of Kim Jonghyun
The moon is Listerine tonight,
the electric blue and the shock
of that light shooting down my spine
reminds me of you.
I kiss the bruise tender between sleep and poetry;
Slowly, a long sharp tusk of silence
lends itself floating –