in the year before his death my father read through asoiaf, and it was basically all we talked about during that time. characters and themes and theories and joking references, he even said happy name day that year. it was a bright spot in an often difficult relationship. anyway i find it kinda funny that he died a decade ago and he still hasn’t missed out on anything with asoiaf. i mean sure, there was f&b, but the main series hasn’t progressed yet. i don’t know how to feel about that; i’m excited for twow but still find some sort of comfort in sharing the long wait with him, all these years later. this way his theories aren’t wrong. this way i haven’t missed out on any asoiaf discussions with him yet. this way time still hasn’t left him behind completely
so ig i like never talk abt fortnite on here but for whatever reason its been Loving Nolan Chance Hours and i just want everyone to know that i consistently read his backbling name wrong
i’ve always read it as “lunchbox” (as opposed to “lockbox”). and yk what? it makes more sense. that mf WOULD bring a lunchbox to his heists.
little sandwiches cut into dinosaurs and shit. maybe a capri sun and a fruit roll up
this year is a tough one for me in terms of grief, and i want to take that grief and make something with it but i am absolutely paralysed instead, and it didn’t hit me until tonight just how strong this grief still is
and i can’t make something with it, because it isn’t something to be made beautiful, or to be made into art. it just is. and it’s going to live in me forever, and i never want to lose it, even though it hurts, because that grief is all of them continuing to live and to love through me
Ugh. Hitting sooooo many snags trying to plan the ghosts inspired fic (aka the one where Steve sees dead people) and I’m starting to wonder if it’s Too Big for me to write but I wanna write it so bad 😭