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The Restaurant at the End of the Universe comprehensive summary

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BLORBO!!!! MY LITTLE GUY!!! MY FORD PREFECT!!!

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behold my fuckass zaphod beeblebrox design

(notes: one head resembles sam rockwell's zaphod, the other resembles mark wing-davey's. also his chains say BEEBLE and BROX if it wasn't clear enough)

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Murderbot is such a neurodivergent power fantasy. It can

- store unlimited media and watch it privately

- turn down sensory organs that are bothering it

- look at stuff without its eyes

- cross reference its data storage when it doesn't know what to say

- program "human-like behavior"

- super duper kill the shit out of anyone that fucks with it

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been reading this lately i like him a lot

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happy pride month

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happy towel day!

lined+colored my comic from this sketch dump, its actually readable now :]

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My sister, who has read the first seven chapters of hitchhiker, wanted me to share the fanfiction she wrote for towel day. Here it is:

zaphod bebolbrocks smiled up at the hollywood sign. he had waited 200 years for this moment. it all lead up to this. “wish me luck, dad number 4,” he whispered, a silent prayer, as he stepped into his new agent's office.

His agent, burtrude, had been a bit hesitant at signing a middle aged man with no experience in acting, three arms, and an extra head. “maybe we could find you a part in a horror movie as a monster” he had said. Zaphod had cried hysterically for twenty minutes in the office after hearing such harsh words. His manager, a soft and kind and fat man, had taken pity on the poorly dressed anatomical horror and found him a part in the new Indiana Jones movie. Not as Indie, but as Indie’s wife’s friend’s daughter’s pet. Zaphod was overjoyed. Zaphod was so happy that he took his agent out to dinner and now the agent was confused about what their relationship was. In fact, he had asked Zaphod to this meeting not only to give new information about the role, but to ask that terrible question: “what are we?”

As Zaphod stepped into burtrude’s dimly lit Hollywood office, he was all aflutter. Sweating and wringing his hands, he sat down across from Burtrude. Burtrude noticed the anxiety and smirked to himself. “you anxious about something?” he asked, trying to pry the emotions out of Zaphod’s brains.

Zaphod smiled awkwardly with one face. “Just excited,” he answered. In all honesty, he was mildly terrified to be portraying such a role on a large project.

“I feel that excitement too,” Burtrude said slyly. He subconsciously leaned further forward across the desk, as though he needed to be as close as possible to this horror. They had only met once before and yet Burtrude had been anxious over this meeting since the Tuesday he scheduled it.

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HAPPY TOWEL DAY TO EVERYONE!

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if i see another journalist say 'zaphod beeblebrox is tr*mp' i'm going to start Biting

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how much of fords communication problems do you think came from not having anyone on earth believe him and having to shut up about his feelings for fifteen years

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doodle i did the other day in chrome canvas

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Ford x Arthur 💃💃

Can't let the fandom fade:>> 🍎🍎

💃💃💃 keep making ship art of these two teehee love them so much

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This past week I have been absolutely feral over the Love Me Tender scene.... What do you mean Ford and Arthur go to a bar, Ford pays the band to play Love Me Tender, cries, and as they leave, the band plays Heartbreak Hotel and it's just never spoken of again?? I think Ford was coming close to confessing to Arthur (especially because of the Mark II about to destroy everything) but flaked out and started crying. Maybe it's wishful thinking but what was Mr Adams trying to achieve with this.

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ford picking lint off arthur and tabloid entries about body language among couples