#maybe it'll be okay

[aloeverabagel]

The air is getting fresher and the nights are getting warmer. It makes me think maybe I can keep on living a little longer..

I'll try anyways.

I'm still not quite ready to give in yet.

I hope all this staying around is worth it.

[notswush]

[ishouldsleepbut]

it's weird telling people how bad you've been feeling lately and them answering with "how can we support you?" like wait, you mean all that fear i had about scaring you and making you more stressed isn't real? it's all in my head? hmmm that doesn't seem right

[aroace-ed]

it is painful, sometimes, to love platonically in a way that is so rarely fully reciprocated. i really don't know how to explain the way i feel, but right now, it feels like when you're a child and you have your best friend, and they're the person you will always go to to hang out. the way you'd beg your parents for an extra five minutes to play together with random little secrets and handshakes. how you'd talk about the future and plan out how you both will live together in the same apartment and go to the same school, promising that you'll be together forever. it feels like every friend i've had grew up and found love in romance where i'm still clinging onto the same dream from childhood.

[regenderate-fic]

The Love We Hold

Fandom: Doctor Who Ships: Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler/Yasmin Khan Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Rose Tyler/Yasmin Khan Rating: General Series: Maybe It’ll Be Okay Word Count: 2,659 Other Tags: Fluff, Developing Relationship, Polyamory, Domestic, Canon Divergence, Soft Read on AO3

Summary: In which Yaz wakes up with the Doctor's arm around her, the Doctor demonstrates just how much toast she can shove in her mouth at a time, and Rose and Yaz continue to prod the Doctor into tough conversations.

DWC Summer Exchange treat for chaoticalienb.

NOTES: sequel to my valentine's day fic and exchange treat for ruby <3 hiii ruby <3 i cheated a little bit because i started writing this ages ago but i remembered you liked the valentine's fic and your thing for the exchange said polyamory and domestic stuff so. i finished it so i could gift it to you! consider it further recompense for the gaby.

anyway if you are not ruby and you don't feel like reading the first fic in the series it's like like. a post-canon rose is on the tardis, she and yaz prodded thirteen into telling them about the timeless child thing, they then forced thirteen to go to sleep and thirteen asked them to stay with her. so. that's the context. also i switched from present to past tense here for literally no reason at all everyone please deal with it.

Yaz woke up slowly, feeling inexplicably comfortable. As she drifted towards wakefulness, she became vaguely aware of an arm around her waist, and then a body pressed against hers. 

Oh, right. She’d fallen asleep in the Doctor’s bed. And, if she remembered right— she opened her eyes. The Doctor’s head was tucked under Yaz’s chin, seemingly with no regard for, say, her need to breathe. And Rose’s head was buried in the Doctor’s hair, her arms wrapped fully around the Doctor. Both Rose and the Doctor appeared to be asleep— the latter softly snoring— and Yaz let her eyes slip back closed too, a smile spreading across her face. She still hadn’t fully thought through how she felt about the Doctor, or about Rose, for that matter, but for now, she was happy to lie quietly in bed, enjoying the warmth and the comfort.

It wasn’t long before she felt movement. She opened her eyes to see Rose looking up, moving her head away from the Doctor’s. Their eyes met. 

“Good morning,” Rose said, her voice just above a whisper. 

“Morning,” Yaz replied, still smiling. 

Rose smiled back. “I forgot how much I missed this.”

“I didn’t know how much I wanted it,” Yaz said, the morning’s safety lulling her into honesty. She glanced down at top of the Doctor’s head, which showed no signs of movement. “Surprised she let me in here.”

Rose grinned, her tongue between her teeth. With her head still on the pillow, her hand idly tracing the Doctor’s side, she gave off an impression of tremendous ease. “Told you she liked you.” 

Yaz smiled again, burying it a little in the Doctor’s hair. The Doctor’s arms were still wrapped around her, warm and just the right kind of heavy.

“When do you think she’ll wake up?” Rose asked. She tucked a piece of the Doctor’s hair behind her ear, her hand lingering on the Doctor’s cheek. “Suppose she needed the sleep.”

“She’s out cold,” Yaz murmured. “She’s impossible to wake up when she’s like this. I’m always finding her in the library or her workshop.”

Rose hesitated for a moment, hovering just above the Doctor. “I guess I’ll go put on the kettle,” she said. She nodded at where the Doctor’s arm was clamped around Yaz’s waist. “Seeing as you can’t exactly go anywhere.”

Yaz laughed. “Suppose I can’t.”

“Right. Be back in ten.” And Rose extricated herself from the bed and stepped across the room. Yaz heard her trying to navigate the messy floor, and then there was the sound of the door sliding open and then back shut. 

And then Yaz was faced with the fact that she was now alone with a sleeping Doctor, engaged in a fierce cuddle. She had never, in her wildest dreams, imagined that this would happen. She was thrilled that it had, of course, but she was coming to the horrible realization that she had absolutely no idea what to do with herself.

She readjusted her position, careful not to jostle the Doctor too much, and experimentally, she stroked the Doctor’s hair. That felt right, under the circumstances. So she closed her eyes, letting her hand run through the Doctor’s unprecedentedly soft hair. 

She must have drifted off, because she woke up again when the door to the room opened. She craned her neck, looking around to see Rose coming in holding a tray with three mugs and a plate of toast and jam. Rose got a few steps in before she stopped. 

“Where do I put this down?” she hissed at Yaz. 

“I don’t know.” Yaz cast her gaze around the room, looking for an empty surface. There was none, of course. “Maybe clear off the desk a bit?” 

Rose did just that, pushing papers and trinkets aside with one hand to put down the tray. Carefully, she took the mugs and brought them to the bed, leaving two on the nightstand next to Yaz and one on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. And then she sat on the other side of the Doctor, picking up her tea with one hand and running her other hand over the Doctor’s shoulder.

This, somehow, is what caused the Doctor to stir. She moved just a little, and Yaz pulled her head back to see the Doctor’s eyes fluttering open. 

“You’re still here?” the Doctor asked, her words slurred with sleep. 

“Yeah,” Yaz said. “Is that— I mean, is that all right? We can go.” She glanced worriedly at Rose, who gave her a reassuring smile. 

The Doctor’s hold on Yaz tightened. “Don’t go.”

“Okay.” Yaz kept herself very still, unsure of what would happen next. She was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the Doctor to freeze up and become distant again. 

Fortunately, Rose jumped in. “We’re not going anywhere, Doctor. D’you want some tea?”

“Oh, love tea.” The Doctor flailed, trying to push herself into a sitting position without disturbing Yaz or Rose on either side of her. Yaz leaned away, giving the Doctor room to sit, before sitting up herself and passing one of the mugs to the Doctor and picking up the other for herself. She took a sip— it was steaming black tea with a little milk, just the way Yaz liked it. 

“Thanks for staying with me,” the Doctor said into her tea, the words all pushed together. “Wasn’t sure you would want to be with me anymore, if you knew all that.”

Rose and Yaz both looked at the Doctor with indignation, their expressions nearly identical.

“Why would you think that?” Rose asked. 

The Doctor shrugged. Yaz felt it against her own shoulder. 

“Dunno.” The Doctor took a deep breath. “Suppose I just thought, if I don’t even know who I am, how can I expect anyone else to want me? Except I wasn’t going to know who I was whether or not I told you, so there’s not much point, really.” 

“Doctor,” Yaz said. “I don’t care where you came from.” She hesitated, reconsidering. “I mean, obviously I care about what you went through, but knowing who you used to be doesn’t change the fact that I know who you are now. You’re kind. You’re caring. You’re always trying to make things right, and yeah, sometimes you do unhealthy or hurtful things— but I still love being with you. None of that has changed.” She paused. “And now you’ve told me what you were after, I understand a lot better why you didn’t say anything before. All right?” 

The Doctor nodded. “I really am sorry,” she said. “For dragging you all those places. It wasn’t fair.”

“It wasn’t,” Yaz agreed. “But it’s not— I’m still not going to leave you.” She bumped her shoulder into the Doctor’s, reveling in even that small touch. “Just don’t do it again, yeah?”

The Doctor nodded again. 

“And I’ve said it from the start,” Rose added. “I’m never leaving you, Doctor.”

“I didn’t know—” The Doctor was mumbling now, her face almost completely hidden by her mug. “It’s been so long for me. I’m so different now.”

“I still love you,” Rose said. Yaz envied how easily the words fell from her lips. “All of you. No matter what you look like.”

The Doctor leaned her head on Rose’s shoulder. “I don’t always feel very lovable.”

“Good thing it’s not your decision to make, then,” Rose teased. 

“Suppose so.” The Doctor lifted her head. “I just worry, traveling with people. I don’t want you to get hurt. Everyone I love gets hurt.” 

“We chose this,” Yaz reminded her, skating swiftly past the implications of the word “love.” “I could’ve made you bring me home anytime. I could’ve left when Ryan and Graham did.” She glanced at Rose. “And Rose chose this years and years before I did. It’s not your fault if we get hurt.”

The Doctor let her head flop onto Yaz’s shoulder now, her face turned just a little bit against Yaz’s shirt. “Maybe not.” 

Yaz let her head rest against the Doctor’s, just a little bit. And then, feeling bold, she took the Doctor’s free hand, entwining their fingers.

“We’re here for you, Doctor,” she said softly. “You don’t have to go through everything alone.”

She felt the Doctor nod into her shoulder. 

“And now we’ve covered that,” Yaz added, “Rose brought toast. Do you want toast?”

The Doctor’s head shot up. “Oh, with jam?”

Yaz nodded. She squeezed the Doctor’s hand before letting go, crawling to the foot of the bed before picking her way across the floor to the desk. She hesitated, then picked up the whole tray, awkwardly maneuvering across the blankets as she brought it back to rest on the Doctor’s lap.

“Marmalade,” the Doctor enthused, picking up a slice of the toast and using a spoon to drop globs of jam onto it. “You’ve got good taste, Rose Tyler.”

“I know.” Rose let her head fall on the Doctor’s shoulder, her smile evident in her voice. “‘S why you like me.”

“I like you for loads of reasons,” the Doctor replied. “But your taste in jam is definitely on the list.”

Yaz settled back next to the Doctor, reaching for a slice of toast. She gave it a thin coating of marmalade— she didn’t have quite as much of a sweet tooth as the Doctor, who had wasted no time in shoving half her toast into her mouth at once.

“I’m amazed you don’t choke,” she said.

“Special biology,” the Doctor managed to say around the mouthful of toast. She swallowed dramatically. “My throat is twice as elastic as the average human’s.”

Yaz and Rose exchanged a look.

“If you say so,” Yaz said. 

The Doctor crammed the other half of her toast into her mouth. Yaz couldn’t help but laugh at the image of her with her cheeks puffed out, her hair still messy from sleep. She swallowed again, then said, “D’you know, I think having a good sleep really helped me. Haven’t had a sleep that nice since— d’you remember Ryan’s nan’s sofa?”

“Doctor,” Yaz said. “Are you trying to tell me you haven’t slept since we met?”

“I’ve slept plenty,” the Doctor corrected. “I mean, it was a little touch and go. There was that time on Tsuranga— remember?”

Yaz raised an eyebrow. “You were knocked out.”

“And then when I was in prison,” the Doctor added. “Wasn’t much to do in there but sleep. But the sleep itself was awful. Never felt like I’d rested when I woke up. ‘Course, that might’ve been because Angela was flailing all night. She was a bit nocturnal. Couldn’t exactly move during the day, see, with all the eyes on her. Not all of us got a private cell.” She stopped. “I’m rambling again. Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Not our job to make sure you stay on topic,” Rose teased. 

“I like your rambles,” Yaz added. “When you’re not trying to avoid talking about other stuff, anyway.”

“When have I ever been avoiding?” the Doctor asked, her face adorably scrunched.

Yaz and Rose both gave her a look.

“Yeah, all right,” she mumbled. She picked up another slice of toast, dropping marmalade onto it and folding it over on itself before shoving the whole thing into her mouth. Yaz took a much smaller bite of her own toast, chewing slowly, enjoying the relative calmness of the morning. Not that any time spent with the Doctor could typically be called calm , but— Yaz felt calm, somewhere deep inside, in a way she wasn’t sure she ever had before. 

She glanced at the Doctor, who was now leaning back against the headboard, still chewing. Rose had leaned back too, and the Doctor’s arm was around her shoulder. Emboldened, Yaz inched closer, and the Doctor’s free arm snaked around her waist. 

“That hand had better not be sticky,” Yaz said, eyeing the open jam jar. 

“Can't make any promises,” the Doctor chirped.

Yaz laughed. She made no move to reposition herself— if the Doctor got jam on her shirt, well, maybe that was just the price Yaz paid for falling for a three-thousand-year-old child, because she wasn’t sure there was anything that could convince her to jeopardize the tenuous reality of the Doctor’s arm around her. After three years of the Doctor barely touching her, grabbing her hand only to pull her out of danger, all the touch of the last twelve hours or so still felt surreal. Yaz still was half-convinced that the second she left this room, the Doctor would act like none of this had ever happened— so she nestled closer while she could, resting against the Doctor’s shoulder. 

“What are we going to do today?” Rose asked idly. She was fiddling with the Doctor’s hand, which was draped over her shoulder. 

“I hadn’t thought about it,” the Doctor said. “Suppose I probably ought to take a break from the Division thing, yeah? Could have a nice beach day.”

“Oh, I love a good beach,” Rose said.”Been needing an excuse to wear that swimsuit I got on New Venus.” 

“Yeah?” The Doctor’s head shifted to look at Yaz— she was inches from Yaz’s face now. “Yaz? Beach?” 

“I could do a beach,” Yaz decided. 

“Brilliant,” the Doctor said. She scrambled like she was about to get up, and Rose lunged to pick up the tray before the Doctor lifted her legs and knocked it over. Yaz slipped off the bed, giving the Doctor room to slide off after her, and the Doctor jumped to her feet. “Beach day with Yaz and Rose. Amazing!” She frowned. “Although I suppose I should at least change my shirt first, shouldn’t I?”

“Let’s meet in the console room?” Rose asked.

“Yes! Brilliant!” The Doctor whirled around and pointed at Rose. “Ten points to Rose.”

Yaz gathered the Doctor’s mug and hers. “I think sleeping’s made you even more hyperactive, Doctor.”

“I didn’t know I could even have this much energy,” the Doctor said. “Honestly, it’s brilliant. Highly recommend.”

Rose laughed. “Pretty sure the average human can’t sustain it.”

The Doctor shrugged. “Your loss, really.” 

“Yeah, all right,” Yaz said, smiling. “I’m going to get these mugs to the kitchen. See you in the console room?”

“Can’t wait,” the Doctor said, her tone completely serious.

Yaz stepped out of the room, still smiling to herself. Rose came after, holding the tray, and they started off towards the kitchen together. 

“So, I’d say that went all right, then,” Rose said.

“I’ve never seen her like that,” Yaz replied. “I mean— she seems lighter.”

Rose bumped her elbow against Yaz. “You doing all right?”

“Yeah,” Yaz said, her smile growing. She took a deep breath. “I mean— it’s a lot, I guess. But— I’m glad it happened the way it did.”

“Yeah,” Rose said. “Me too.”

They were at the kitchen now, and Yaz set the mugs down in the sink as Rose let the tray rest on the counter. They filled the dishwasher together, and then they shared a smile, Yaz’s excitement reflected in Rose’s eyes.

“See you in the console room?” Rose asked.

“Be right there,” Yaz said. 

She walked back to her room and closed the door behind her, still only half-believing everything that had happened. But when she found a swimsuit, changed her clothes, and walked to the console room, she found the Doctor and Rose there, talking to each other, and the second the Doctor heard Yaz come in she let go of Rose’s hand to launch herself at her. 

Yaz grinned into the hug. Maybe it was real, then, and maybe it would continue to be real, too. At least, as the TARDIS began its wheezing, her and the Doctor and Rose all grinning at each other, Yaz couldn’t help but let the elated feeling in her stomach take over. 

Today was going to be a good day. 

[katabay]

Robin Hood and Little John walkin' through the forest--

alright! so! early robin hood ballads and narratives don't have an origin story for little john, but a later ballad (robin hood and little john) does. they fight on a bridge in it, but I like looking at illustrations, so I've swapped out the bridge for that tree peaking out of the panel in the first panel bc I enjoy louis rhead's illustrations a lot.

this is some kind of introduction scene after they fight and climb out of the river!

Robin Hood & Little John (edited by Stephen Knight & Thomas Ohlgren)

[galactaknightyaoi]

I absolutely adore the HC that these two are family...

[imminent-danger-came]

Can you believe MK learned he was a Monkey Demon and his first instinct was to assume he was going to destroy everyone/hurt the people he loved. And then the moment he thought his destiny was to die for them, he was a little too down for it. And then after he realized his destiny was inevitably to destroy the ones he loves as he knows them and reset the cycle, he was back to being like "ah okay fuck destiny", BUT FOR A LITTLE BIT THERE. HE WAS SO READY. Something is so wrong with him

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

dnkinktober day 1: feminization | day 14: biting

[thedarkzyxabyss]

Uh about tv and radio, i want 2 kno the relationship between them. I dont quite understand how it workS

okay i guess i'll give you guys a little context to the happenings with Radio /pos Again, this is an AU with dubiously canon/probably non-canon content haha we'll see

After all, the UTMV is all about AUs and whatnot <3 So everything is dubiously canon to an extent haha

Shattered Dream belongs to @galacii

Hellborn belongs to @moonstardream

No Name belongs to @carrrrino

TV/Radio belongs to me!

[temporalhiccup]

In an effort to ease out of burn out and try to feel real and human again I'm digging around old games and seeing what would be fun to tinker with. For most of my games they get to at least an Alpha Build/Playtestable stage, but Never Break The Chain is one of the few that didn't quite manage to get that far (though it honestly wouldn't take that much more I think!)

Never Break The Chain mechanically and emotionally is a response to The Eventide Club, which was @jdragsky's response to Apocalypse Keys.

It's clear that this game is partly a love letter to jay dragon's design and how it makes me feel, and I wrote this during a time when I was insecure about my design. I was reeling from the idea that my games were too emotional to be enjoyable, that strangers were never going to like the games I create. (Typical Capricorn, even the way I work through my shit has to be productive in some way)

Every player character is made up of two components: a Musician Playbook and a God Playbook. It's my take on the very popular idea of fallen gods feeding off divine worship as musicians. I wanted to create a really fun and emotionally intense game (inspired by how famously messy Fleetwood Mac and other bands can be, definitely The Wicked + The Divine too).

It's been three years since I took a look at this stuff and it's fun remembering the mechanical shenanigans I was up to: tightening chains, breaking them, creating halos, shattering them, etc. I'll tinker a bit with these mechanics and see what comes of it.

The more complex of the playbooks are the Musician ones. What remains of the divine is raw and simple, ever fading and barely there. In comparison, the Musician playbooks are a chance for me to explore some truly messy human stuff.

Here's the Musician playbook, The Mask, it's mostly intact from the last time I touched it years ago. I just tightened a few options here and there.

I'll spell out the inspiration for this playbook: David Bowie, specifically the maddened Bowie interviewed by Cameron Crowe in 1975.

Bowie was famous for his different personas, and you can see some of them represented in the masks below: Ziggy Stardust, The Thin White Duke, Halloween Jack, the Goblin King, and the Minotaur.

This playbook is an exploration of what it could have been like for Bowie exploring these different personas, based on various events written about or talked about in later years, offering points of tension and intensity (deconstructed and awaiting creative input, like always) and hopefully creating explosive moments of playable drama.

I do think this playbook leans most into Bowie's contentious phase as the Thin White Duke. This was a man who was clearly breaking apart on stage, underneath the thinnest veneer of a persona that was holding itself together with a white-knuckled grip. Other personas were haunting him, discarded or never worn. Station to Station is my favorite Bowie album on most days, and his live performances of its music are almost painful to watch (while impossible to look away from).

I think, if we ever get this to playtest, I'll probably leave this playbook mostly as is (barring some mechanical tweaks that will be applied to all playbooks maybe) and just see where things go.

The Mask

You understand better than anyone that music is a story, and that performance is a mask well worn. You have created several Masks and stories over the years, and the Masks have recreated you. But as you seek fame and fortune, will the Mask become more real than you ever could be? One day you'll wake up and there won't be anything of you left, just a blank face both empty and signifying nothing.

Your Name

(Choose 1): A completely made up name that is never questioned, an appropriately dramatic name, a single initial that no one pronounces properly, I change my name every few months, a series of letters and numbers that only makes sense to my fans, a name that is as enigmatic as it is beautiful.

Your Look

(Choose 3-4): A painfully sharp and pale business suit with splatters of paint and blood on it, shades that almost no one has ever seen me take off, hair dyed into every imaginable color, the cruelest smile, the kindest eyes, an intoxicating scent, small and delicate tattoos that tell all my secrets, the body language of a predator, an unexpected scar, something else that betrays my mortality and weakness.

Your Role in the Band:

(Choose 1-3): Lead vocalist, lead guitar, muse, song writer, fuck buddy, everybody's ex, the face of the band, I'm here to look pretty baby

Choose the Mask you currently wear, one Mask you discarded, and one Mask that threatens to consume you.

I am an alien from a dying planet and harbinger of an inescapable apocalypse, my music is wild and haunting

I am royalty from a fictional past and deride the love I desperately need, my music is rhythmic and romantic

I am a rebel leader from a dark future and I shall orchestrate a dystopia of our own making, my music is hypnotic and delirious

I am the fae king who grants ill-cast wishes and offers dark bargains, my music is ethereal and manipulative

I am a serial killer who turns willing victims into impossible art pieces, my music is violent and eerie

I am a fallen angel, on the run from divine hunters and mortal lovers and only you can save me, my music is soft and beautiful

I am a broken doll mimicking life, perfect and made to fulfill your every desire, my music is naive and inviting

I am a warrior from another time and place, only you can heal my wounds and recreate my fate, my music is loud and lustful

As The Mask I gain 2-4 tokens when I:

Hide my true feelings behind a Mask

Ask someone to wear one of my Masks, for now

Give a part of myself to a Mask

When you gain your fifth token:

The divine music swells within you and seeks release. You cannot gain new tokens until you choose one:

Go to another band member and take off your Mask, reveal something vulnerable and raw about yourself. If they reach out to touch your real face, they break a chain. If they do anything else, break one of your chains.

Reflect on the god you once where, and create a new Mask to contain that memory. Your power wanes, crack one halo.

The Mask's Chains:

A whisper that comes from my mouth but doesn't sound like me at all

An embrace that promises more than it should

A kiss that comes dangerously close to unmasking me

One of my Masks on someone else's face

A song I wrote that will weaken a single Mask

A Mask I created that takes a life of its own

A Mask someone else creates to imprison me

Someone I love wearing my true face

The Mask's Move:

When you put on one of your Masks to tell its story, describe how you embody it and how you draw others into your spell. Spend tokens and roll.

On an 8-10 You are in control of the Mask, choose one:

A part of your Mask becomes more real than real, create a new Chain that reflects this.

A part of your true self gives way to the Mask, one Halo becomes whole again.

Someone is inexplicably drawn to you, you have them wrapped around your finger, for now. Say who they are and place a chain on them. If they're a band member, they place a chain on you as well.

On an 11+ The Mask begins to consume you, and you cannot tell the difference between art and reality. Choose one:

Another band member must become a part of your story, both of you place a chain on the other. For now, you are obsessed with crafting a Mask for them to match your own.

One of your fans is convinced the Mask is your true self, you cannot outrun them. For the rest of the scene you are at your fan's mercy. Describe how their obsession for you draws out something painful and real from you. When you return in a future scene gain the chain: an obsessed and dangerous fan

On a 7- your sense of self shatters and the Mask bleeds through. Until you regain your sense of self and remember you are not your Mask, you cannot perform. The Audience will tell you what happens next.

At the start of every session:

Spend a moment with your Masks and consider who they are and what story they have to tell. Choose one:

Put down the Mask you're currently wearing and pick up another, why does this one call out to you?

Change something essential about one of your Masks, what part of you refuses to bend or break?

Create a new Mask, based on someone you're obsessed with and yearn for. What does it feel like when you pretend to be them?

[eriexplosion]

So the main reason I think that TBB will have a reasonably happy ending is multifaceted but I think the biggest one is that a lot of the series it's compared to have entirely different focuses but only one requires minimum the majority of the characters to be alive.

It comes down to the central question of the work. Let's look at TCW - this one is super broad because it's essentially an anthology rather than an overarching narrative. It's literally just "what happens between attack of the clones and revenge of the sith." The only thing needed to bring it to a satisfactory close is to go up to the end of the clone wars and segue into ROTS. Which, as a tragic film, does necessitate a bit of a downer ending. But, the ending feels fulfilling even with the tragedy because it satisfies the central question.

Rogue One is much more narrow, how did the rebellion get the death star plans? The reason you can do a total cast annihilation in this one is because the central question isn't character focused at all, it's mission focused. As long as they move the mission forward, the characters dying doesn't make the ending less satisfying. The central question is answered.

So what's been TBB's central question? It hasn't been mission focused, it's not "how do we fight the Empire" and its not as broad as TCW's filling in a multi year gap between movies. It's asking "who are these clones if they're not soldiers" it's asking "how do you heal this family that's been broken by tragedy."

And killing off most of the main cast answers these questions as "nothing" and "You don't." It's like answering "what happened between these two movies" with 'nothing' or 'how did they get the death star plans with 'they didn't.' It negates the central question that we're introduced to, it would render the entire endeavor pointless. Why would we need three seasons to get Omega from 'alone' to 'still alone' why would we build up the desire for the family to heal just to say they never will? Why would we watch them go from broken to more broken to absolutely shattered in a trauma mill? It doesn't answer anything, it just trails off.

I don't even think that the question of how to heal the family can be satisfied if Tech is actually dead. MAYBE if we had more time we could soothe away the trauma of that and still resolve everything. Maybe if his loss was the only one that needed to be wrapped up and processed we could resolve that in the time we have left.

But needing to bring Crosshair home, bring Omega home, AND heal everyone from Tech's death in fifteen episodes that also require enough action to keep ten year old boys interested? Yeah, I don't think that's happening. I think the only way that this gets wrapped up in a way that actually holds to the themes of the show is an ending that has the family together, an ending that actually answers the questions we started with, one that said *they're not soldiers, they're family* and that the family is in fact capable of being healed.

[dougs-meat]

so, uh, do we need to be worried or...

[bughat]

Okay, 1) I am dying at how many people who've liked this post have Buggy pfps

2) I will be legitimately pissed if Buggy gets to be hot, but Crocodile isn't. Like, fuck him for what he did to Vivi and all, but goddammit, they already crushed my ONE CHANCE to see Gin again and maybe JUST MAYBE have a brief, sad firefly moment of hope for my nearly nonexistent SanGin ship; I demand at least a decently hot greasy sand lizard mafia don in compensation for my broken dreams okay

Okay, so my life has kind of gone to shit rn and everything seems pointless, but I did still want to say that if you had told me back in 1999 that one day the internet would be burying me under an avalanche of thirsty BUGGY THE CLOWN fan art every time I got online I would have assumed you were high as fuck and possibly having a stroke, but HERE WE ARE-

[aceforwhatevenisthis]

night at the museum puppet history au

okay so

Ryan is the new night guard at a children's history museum, it's full of funny puppets most roughly the size of what the new professor puppet is now (some smaller, some bigger)

and much like Larry, he very quickly finds out that these puppets come to life at night and i mean, yeah he freaks out, it's life-size puppets coming to life, that's not exactly non-creepy

Shane is the curator of the museum and likes to make jokes about how the puppets seem to have a life of their own sometimes (Ryan isn't sure if he knows about what happens at night in the museum but Shane absolutely knows)

The main point of the museum is that it hosts various educational talks about history appropriate for small kids right and Shane is just one of the many puppeteers (he usually controls the Professor) but once Ryan makes friends with the puppets, the Professor and co. like to teach Ryan about the more obscure and non-PG history that we get in the actual show (idk about you but cannibalism and death is not exactly kid friendly and the Professor has been dying to tell someone about all this history he knows)

that's all i have for now

[sleepgarden]

new headdress I'm working on for my shop. Lambkin, the pet name varré gives us in elden ring, is such a cute word. The pink yarn is very light against the cream, it's hard to capture but it "blushes" in light, almost disappearing under certain angles and light! Accented with antique lace, and it'll have a gorgeous matching ribbon and bows.

I haven't posted any personal work in a while so here's something I'm taking time on for myself ^-^