Do you ever just suddenly feel really shitty because you’re not particularly good at anything and you don’t know what you wanna do with your life and like you didn’t ask to be born and have to deal with all of this and yet here you are, confused and anxious and paying to exist on this trash planet
Imagine a UNIT era modern day AU where the Doctor discovers Facebook:
He immediately sends friend requests to everyone at UNIT. The Brigadier doesn’t really understand social media (he only uses it to keep up with family stuff) but he’s very good at clicking the delete button. The Doctor is undeterred and continues to send him friend requests.
One day the Brigadier has to tell him exasperatedly, “Doctor, you can’t publicly list your education as ‘Time Lord Academy’.”
On another occasion he has to tell him to take down the picture he posted of the First Doctor that was captioned, “And here’s me in my younger days.” “I suppose this means you’ll want me remove that photograph taken during the Omega incident that said, ‘Hanging out with myself’,” the Doctor sighs.
The Doctor tries to sound cool on the internet but doesn’t because he keeps using memes that haven’t been invented yet. No one has any idea what he’s talking about and internet-savvy Jo is perpetually embarrassed.
The Master (under a paper-thin alias) stalks the Doctor’s page and likes all his posts in the hope that the Doctor will send him a friend request and he can have the satisfaction of declining it. The Doctor ignores him, but he does get a friend request from Sergeant Benton. Somehow the thought of declining that isn’t quite as satisfying.
“No, Doctor,” the Brigadier groans one morning when he sees his Facebook feed, “you cannot post… selfies… with a Dalek.” “Well if you don’t like mine, “ the Doctor replies, “just wait until you see Jo’s.”
This is what happens when you let a loser like me use Photoshop…
I’ve just been laughing at the last skit in Sonic Shorts - Volume 6 for a while, and I wanted to use what I know about Photoshop to make my own picture of Zero the Artificial Hedgehog. I spent about two hours making this fanart of this “original” Sonic fan character, and I think it was two hours well spent. (It would have taken me less time, but it took forever to find good images and I had to start over about 30 minutes into making the picture.)
Now you may be thinking, “Jouska, why would you waste two hours of your life to make this?” and the answer to that is really easy! …Because I can!
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Hello everyone! After a very scary election, I channeled my motivation into the Merlin script, and it is now done and it is 15 pages long! That’s about the size of the Scorbus script, but it’ll probably be longer since with a TV show, you have to play clips and stuff. I’m aiming to keep it around half an hour…and I think it’s pretty good. I’ll try to narrate this weekend but I also have a project to work on, so we’ll see. Thanks for being patient guys, and I hope you’re all doing okay, and if you ever need someone to talk to, you can always send me a message. Thanks!!
So, this happened. I’m not sure how exactly I got to that ending because it wasn’t where I was originally going. But I think I like it. Finally, a Densi fic I’ve written recently that I’m semi happy with! You can also read (& review ;) ) on ff.net here.
It was almost midnight when Kensi finally got home that night. After her conversation with Hetty she’d needed some time. Given the late hour and the events of the day, a run out on the streets to clear her head hadn’t been an option. Instead she’d moved from the range to the gym and had done some of her physical therapy exercises before pushing herself perhaps a little too hard on the treadmill. She’d showered and walked the few blocks, to the spot where Sullivan had dropped her off, to catch an Uber home.
The house was dark when she opened the front door, Monty asleep on his bed in the living room and Deeks presumably asleep in their bed. There was no denying she was tired and she made her way to the bedroom quickly, stripping off her hoodie and pulling the bra from underneath her tank like an expert. In only her underwear and shirt she crawled into bed beside her almost-fiancé. He immediately rolled toward her, curling his arm around her waist and burying his face in her neck.
So, like, when Nursey shows up with the new shirt as a peace offering, Dex is ready to go off on him for flaunting his money in his face again or implying that his taste in shirts isn’t up to par or whatever. Which, you know, could be justified. But the one reason for getting so pissed that he never considers is that he.. is personally attached to this dumb shirt ‘cause of Nursey?
Until Nursey stops and says, “I don’t even get why you’re so hung up on this one shirt, Dex! I know for a fact you have at least one other one that abides by The Poindexter Party Dress Code ™.”
Dex just says, “Whatever,” leaves Nursey with his replacement shirt, and skulks off. And thinks. And overthinks. Because Nursey’s right; he doesn’t want to wear his one other party shirt, but he doesn’t totally get why. Or maybe he does, but he doesn’t want to dig any further into it than he already has.