#you’re gonna carry that weight

[lordascapelion]

Picture of one strong girl pulling her weight for the good of the colony.

Not sure if she decapitated that mantis on her own but it would make for quite a story, huh?

@onenicebugperday

[nomeansfuckingno]

[bossbossbanana]

“You’re gonna carry that weight.”

THEY’RE THE SAME PERSON YOU CANNOT CHANGE MY MIND. I think they would get along 🥺

Spike and Wolfwood <3333 they own my heart

[illjustpretend]

Atlas

[scarlettnox]

[pink-lost-chao]

“…Bang.”

I’ve wanted to draw this scene with Shadow for awhile now

[mr-double-downer]

Back in the day everyone wanted Benedict Cumberbatch as Spike Spiegel, surprised in this era of Doomer Sigma Males there arent any Ryan Gosling Bebop edits and no I am not looking it up either.

well we have this

[chiguire]

[baldy-wan-kenobi]

This sounds dope as fuck, I'd love to play this.

Have you played SEE YOU, SPACE COWBOY ?

by Tidal Wave Games

SEE YOU, SPACE COWBOY… (abbreviated CUSC) is a tabletop roleplaying game for 3-6 players set in outer space where the players create characters called Outlaws: bounty hunters who fly across the galaxy in search of their next payday. You create situations where they land in hot water, manipulate people, and start gunfights, all while dealing with their debt and trauma.

The world is handled by the Bandleader, who creates the bounties and challenges for the players to overcome, guided by the results of the dice. Player character Traits are made up of a d6, d8, d10 or d12, which they roll in a sticky situation that we call a Break. They can also modify these Breaks with their Talents or Gear. No matter what size die you roll, a result of 4 or lower is a failure, a result of 5 to 9 is a partial success, and a 10 or above is a full success. Failure can also be assisted by a press-your-luck mechanic called Juice.

[thestarsarecool]

“I still feel really comfortable playing with Paul, yes. We have all that history and it comes into play when we work together. You can’t just dismiss that. You’re never going to lose the closeness of those eight years we spent together. We played some great music and we were brothers; no matter what goes on up and down, we were very close. I don’t know of any other band who got that close. And we got that close because we loved each other and the pressure that only the Beatles had. No other band has had that much pressure. So all of those factors come into play when we meet each other. We know what went on. Nobody else knows. Everybody thinks they know, and they have ideas, and they write books about it, but actually only the Beatles know how heavy that was.

Paul and I used to work very hard. A lot of it fell into place, but the drummer and the bass player have a foundation to set, for everything else to be able to go on. And as I say, he is the most melodic bass player. He plays melodies within the melodies. He’s like the sea bed, or I’m the sea bed and he’s the bottom water, and everything goes up from there. Like bubbles.”

— Ringo Starr, Club Sandwich, 1997

[hunybody]

unfortunately true of me is that the marker of my favorite character, every time, is how well ‘carry that weight’ by the beatles applies.

[eppymytheus]

me remembering when i argued math (they were arguing AGAINST the truth of the TRANSITIVE PROPERTY OF EQUALITY.) on the internet instead of blocking and deleting his comment.

I saw somebody be wrong on the internet and I didn’t respond (don’t want to get involved) and I’m being SO brave about it

[soaked-doors]

you’re gonna carry that weight

[flintstruck]

tag drop 001.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝ i’ll raise you like a phoenix.  ╱  ooc.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝ the scent of sweat‚ jaws at my throat.  ╱  desires.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝ a better knife than you are a person.  ╱  ic.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝   ╱  threads.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝ made into a weapon and told to find peace.  ╱​  musings.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝ honey and wildfire are both the colour gold.  ╱  aesthetics.

✧ ⥼ㅤ — ㅤ❝  you’re gonna carry that weight.  ╱  insight & mannerisms.

✧ ⥼ ㅤ— ㅤ❝ i'm sorry. i'm sorry. this may be me at my best.  ╱​  about.

✧ ⥼ ㅤ— ㅤ❝ i can carry it well. it remains heavy.  ╱​  v.001 ; warrior of light.

✧ ⥼ ㅤ— ㅤ❝   ╱​  visage.

[kuhntz]

Cowboy Bebop end credit stills

[milktiicup]

Hear me out about potentially getting pregnant because of Mr. Crawling! I wonder how he’d act.. is it even possible for him to do so? Would he realise the state of his partner?

(Feel free to ignore omg so sorry for ANOTHER ask..)

-🦁 anon!!

one, two, three!

“You, me, little human…”

warnings. pregnancy!!!! duh!!!! reader is still ungendered tho but obv is carrying a baby

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ chapter 2

It’s not possible to get pregnant by a ghost, right? Right?

You take a seat at the side of the bathtub, and drop the test to the floor. You hold your head in your hands, fingers digging into your scalp. You let out a growl of a sigh, dragging a hand down your face. Not only do you have so many questions of how it was even biologically possible, what the hell is the kid gonna come out like? Human? Monster? Some half half amalgamation?

How the fuck are you gonna explain this to Mr. Crawling?!

There’s a knock at the bathroom door. Speak of the devil...

“Long time room. Worry you. You okay?” he says.

“I’m okay!” slips out of your mouth without thinking, and you curse under your breath. Just what the hell are you doing, and what the fuck are you going to do?

You can’t blame yourself for having the hots for Mr. Crawling - he’s completely obsessed with you! And he’s… really cute. He even sleeps in your bed, for the love of God. You two were totally gonna bone anyway! Like seriously, how are you even meant to explain the concept of a condom to him when the language he speaks has like one hundred words? Matter of fact, how are you meant to explain pregnancy?

“You not okay,” he insists from outside the door.

The panic swirls in your chest, the silence on the other side of the door is heavy. You can almost picture him out there, frowning, his hair slightly dishevelled, his head tilted as he waits for a response. You squeeze your eyes shut and groan. This situation was impossible.

If it was literally anything else, anything else but a baby, you’d just pretend it didn’t exist.

You unlock the bathroom door and open it wide for him to crawl inside. You slump on the floor, back against the tub and pick the test back up again.

“You sad,” Mr. Crawling mumbles, slotting himself beside you. He reaches a long arm around your shoulder, pulling you tight to his chest. It’s comforting, you think, even if his heart doesn’t beat. His cool touch is grounding.

You sigh and clutch his kimono. “Problem,” you utter, closing your eyes. “Big problem.”

“Problem? You hurt?” he asks, his voice softer now, searching.

You shake your head, fiddling with the test in your lap. “Not hurt. Just… confused. Scared.”

His fingers brush against your face, tilting it gently toward him. Despite his eyeless visage, you can feel the weight of his focus on you, as if he’s trying to see through your words to the heart of the matter. “Me help. You talk.”

Clutching the test, you find the courage to attempt to explain, “So, uhm… remember when we were close? Like… really, really close?” You tug at his kimono. “Uhm... close with no clothes?”

“Close… no clothes,” he replies, slowly. His lips curl into a small smile. “Me like close.”

Despite the situation, you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. Of course, he likes it. “Well, uhm… Uhm…” God, this was really hard. “You, me- one, two. You, me- make three.” You hold up the test. “Make little human.”

There’s a prolonged silence in the air. You gulp. He’s uncharacteristically still.

“Three?”

“Three… You, me, little human. Little us.”

He tilts his head, his fingers brushing your hand as if to better understand the strange object you’re pretended him with. “Tiny us?”

You nod, clutching the test tighter. “Yeah. Like… part me, part you. Together. In here.” You gesture toward your stomach, cheeks burning.

His focus shifts to your abdomen, and he hovers his hand over your stomach. “In you,” he murmurs, the words heavy with wonder. “Little human.”

“I’m scared,” fumbles out of your mouth before you can think. “Really scared, Crawling.”

Mr. Crawling freezes, his long fingers hovering above your stomach as if he’s afraid to touch. Then his hand settles gently, his cool palm pressing against you, gentle, careful. His other arm wraps around you tighter.

“No scared,” he says firmly, his voice more resolute than you’ve ever heard it. “Me here. Always. Me help you. Help little human.”

Okay,” you whisper, clutching at his kimono. The tears don’t go further than the tip of your eyelashes. Mr. Crawling is quick to wipe them away. “Okay. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

“Together,” he repeats. He looks at your stomach, a flicker of curiosity and pride in his expression. “Tiny us… strong. Like you.”

You let out a laugh, the tension in your chest finally easing. “Yeah,” you murmur, closing your eyes. “Maybe like you, too. But let’s hope it doesn’t have your hair. It’s gonna be hell to brush.”

He doesn’t quite understand the joke, but the faint smile on his lips stays, and for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, it’ll all be okay.