“Why do you hate me so much? I haven’t done anything to you!”

“No, you haven’t. But you will, very soon in the future.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell us that you’re from the future?”

*Shrug* “Eh. You never asked.”

TROPE: “I died after getting betrayed by the people that I trusted the most before. Now that I am given a second chance, I’ll definitely live differently this time!”

MANHWAS:

• The Soulless Duchess

• Justice for the Villainess

• There’s No Use Hangin On

• The Villainess Needs a Tyrant

• The Villainess Behind the Mask

• The Red Knight Seeks No Reward

TROPE: “Living my whole life full of regret because of my marriage, I was given a second life after I died. I will never waste this another chance!”

MANHWAS:

• The Flower Dances and the Wind Sings

• Baroness Goes on Strike

• Saving My Sweetheart

• Duchess of the Glass House

TROPE: “Just when I thought that my life had already ended, I keep regressing back to the past! How can I even end this misery?”

MANHWAS:

• Solitary Lady

• Touch My Little Brother and You’re Dead

• Don’t Concern Yourself With That Book

TROPE: “I was sent back to the past after I died with all of my memories. I swear to change and will never live the same life again!”

MANHWAS:

• The Princess Imprints A Traitor

• The Fantasie Of A Stepmother

• Untouchable Lady

• My Husband’s Reversal

TROPE: “In order to escape my cruel fate, I shall form a contract relationship with someone and make sure that we’ll never fall in love! But… can we really not?”

MANHWAS:

• The Soulless Duchess

• Ingrid, the White Deer

• I Don’t Love You Anymore

• I Was Tricked into this Fake Marriage!

• Lucia

• Daisy: How to Become the Duke’s Fiancée

nonasuch:

nonasuch:

nonasuch:

nonasuch:

1percentcharge:

1percentcharge:

Mockumentary set in medieval England with no explanation as to why or how a camera crew is there

A lot of people have mentioned monty python and the holy grail on this post which is accurate but I was envisioning more of a the office/what we do in the shadows type sitcom complete with talking heads and will-they-or-won’t-theys and with the technology that allows the mockumentary genre to exist going completely unquestioned by the entire cast despise it not occurring anywhere else in the otherwise realistically portrayed setting

…hang on, I think there’s a workable premise here.

The camera crew is a team of time-traveling scientists, studying an isolated village. They don’t bother trying to blend in with the locals much, because they know the village will be wiped out by plague in a few years and no trace of their expedition survives in the historical record. The villagers think they’re wealthy-but-eccentric travelers from a distant land, and they’ve bought off the local lord, a minor knight who doesn’t pay much attention to his serfs anyway.

The scientists are jaded. They’ve all been on multiple expeditions to doomed communities, and they’ve learned not to get too attached to their subjects. Part of the mockumentary format includes their video diaries, internal squabbles, and personality conflicts. The rest is interviews with the locals, footage of the crew tagging along with them in their daily lives, and the various experiments members of the crew are running.

(Most of their research is innocuous: water and soil samples, collecting plant and animal specimens to restore future biodiversity, measuring linguistic drift. All their planned human-subject research had to pass an ethics review board.)

(That said, sometimes opportunities for impromptu data collection arise. And sometimes you get bored and want to know what would happen if you projected a 40-foot holographic cow on the road outside the village.)

(The time travel science ethics review board has very clear rules about starting cults: no matter how funny you think it would be, don’t.)

The tone of the show is pitch-black comedy, at least to start with. The crew is burned out and cynical, the villagers are poor and underfed and overworked. Nobody’s doing their best work, or even trying to, really. This is a team that couldn’t get better, sexier, more exciting assignments, and a village full of people whose idea of a better future is a harvest that fails less than last year’s.

But over the course of, say, three seasons — not quite as long as it’s going to take for the plague to arrive — the research team does something they’re really not supposed to do. They get invested. They start to care, a little. They give the villagers a tiny bit of help, here and there — and they’re shocked to see just how much the villagers manage to do with that help.

But the villagers are still doomed, even if they’re clever and curious and likable. Even if a few of them are smart enough to figure out that the research crew aren’t just weird rich foreigners. Even if letting them all die is starting to feel like a waste, or even a crime.

There’s nothing they can do about it. History is very clear about the village’s fate, and they can’t change history.

Right?

ooh ooh okay. the cold open for every episode (the equivalent to B99’s morning meeting cold opens) is the expedition leader going over a video message from her future self. like just a day or two in the future. usually it’s nothing big, just letting her know about any events in the village that they should try to get recordings of, and warning her about any new bullshit her underlings are going to try to get away with.

in theory she would also get warned away from any actions that could negatively impact the timeline, but this is an extremely low-stakes, low-prestige assignment. everyone with actual career prospects is fighting tooth and nail for the sexy assignments, like pre- volcano Pompeii or Yellowstone. nothing her team can do here really matters, so she never gets warned about anything major.

until sweeps week, probably.

some fun running gags:

the scientists always say decades without specifying the century, leading to constant misunderstandings

“hey it could be worse, we could have been stuck in the 20s”

“what are you talking about? the 1920s are a dream assignment compared to this!”

“oh lol no I meant the 2020s, my bad”

“you know what I miss? live music. when I was stationed in the 90s I got to go to so many concerts”

“no shit? oh man did you get to see Nirvana live, that would rule”

“no but I did see The Magic Flute in Vienna! with Mozart conducting!”

additional running gag: the show starts when the team has already been on site for a while, so most of the villagers are already pretty blasé about seeing future technology. BUT there is one villager who just. always loses her shit, every time. without fail. just full on “BACK, foul creature!!!! WHAT is this FIENDISH SORCERY you wield????” while her neighbors are like “okay calm your tits Maud, they do this every tuesday and it’s fine”

running gag that i am unashamedly stealing from star trek: constant references to events and cultural figures from future history (ie the period between now and when the scientists come from). also it’s never clear, based on the scientists’ offhand references to their childhoods and home lives, whether their future society is a blissful utopia or a very weird dystopia.

running gag with eventual payoff: there are two small and very grubby village children who like to follow the crew around. they never speak. we get lots of reaction shots of the two of them staring blankly at whatever nonsense just happened.

after at least two years of this, a member of the crew is trying to fix a piece of equipment and having no success. the two small children wander into frame (as they often do) and the scientist ignores them (as he usually does)

only this time, the smaller and grubbier child wordlessly pulls a tool out of the scientist’s toolbox and hands it to the larger and slightly less grubby child, who fixes the problem and hands the tool back to the (now dumbfounded) scientist. they walk away, still silent. now it’s the scientist’s turn to stare blankly into the camera.

for maximum comedy the expedition head should be verging on Michael Scott levels of obliviousness. just floating along in a bubble of reassurance from her future self that there’s nothing to worry about.

the cold open is like “good news! the supply drop will go smoothly, no hiccups” and then in the episode we see that their supplies from the future, which were supposed to be teleported to an uninhabited clearing in the woods, landed in the village square in front of the church. on a sunday. and the villagers opened the crates and walked off with a bunch of future tech that the crew now has to hunt down and reclaim.

and they tell their boss none of this, so when she goes to record her message for her past self at the end of the episode she can be like “good news! ” and carry on living her life with the serene confidence of someone who believes in horoscopes and also gets to write her own horoscopes, because her staff makes sure she never knows about their constant fuckups and eleventh-hour saves.

if this is your jam, while you’re waiting for it to get made may I point you in the direction of

every Connie Willis novel

Time/Space

heroofthreefaces:

derinthescarletpescatarian:

stavarosthearcane:

derinthescarletpescatarian:

“If I had time travel I’d kill Hitler” “If I had time travel I’d stop my favourite politician getting assassinated” you’re all thinking way too small. If I had time travel I’d stop Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin from dying on the moon due to Soviet sabotage, kicking off the Great Nuclear War and devastating half of the planet.

Good Job.

#this post gets me every time 

It’s from two days ago fam how many times could there have been

do you think no one else has time travel

Uncle Ben and Little Luke: Chapter One

Hey so, Uncle Ben and Little Luke finally gets to be a real boyfic!

Read on AO3

Summary:

“Ben,” Luke says, grabbing at his face with… well, with one hand, but he moves like he expected both, and forgot the other wouldn’t land without a prosthesis. “Ben, I’m six again. Or seven or five or something. The point is, I’m small and I have one hand and you’re alive. I have no idea what planet we’re on, but the Force is being weird everywhere.”

Is it?

It is.

Obi-Wan had thought it was mostly because he wasn’t dead anymore.

Why isn’t he dead anymore?

—————–

“Ben.”

Hm. No.

“Ben, wake up.”

The famed—and infamous—negotiator turns over and tries to bury his face in his pillow.

His pillow is dirt.

Unfortunate.

“Ben, I’m going to kick you.”

That’s nice. Obi-Wan’s dead, though, so it’s not like kicking is going to—

A tiny foot collides with his hip.

Ah.

Obi-Wan rolls onto his back, blinks open his eyes, and considers the situation.

A too-young face glares down at him, framed against a backdrop of unfamiliar, mostly-green trees and a pale blue sky.

“Luke?” he asks.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” the boy scoffs. “Literally.”

Well, then.

A bit rude, that, but Obi-Wan supposes he can allow for such. The situation does appear to be a strange one. He moves to sit up, and Luke scoots away and to the side, still standing.

The boy is very small. Very young. Too young to be missing a hand the way he is; he didn’t lose that until adulthood.

He’s also very naked.

Obi-Wan looks down at himself. He, thankfully, is not naked. A glance around shows a small pile of what might have been Luke’s clothes. He wonders…

“I kept tripping on them,” Luke explains before the question can be asked. “And I can’t tie them up with one hand, and the Force is being… weird.”

Obi-Wan stares at him, because this is the Luke he knows, with all the memories that entails, and that’s…

He stares down at his hands, calloused but not wrinkled, scarred but not stained. There are no liver spots.

“Your hair’s reddish,” Luke tells him. “Or dark blonde. I don’t know, the color’s weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Obi-Wan protests, before he can really stop himself. He reaches up and brushes a little just low enough to see it, except it’s back to the length he had at the start of the clone wars, and hangs over his eyes. It’s the right color, too.

“It’s weird,” Luke asserts. “Ben, what the kriff is going on?”

“Language,” Obi-Wan corrects absentmindedly. He thinks he sounds a little faint. It’s probably normal, for this situation. Nothing about this situation is normal, of course, but that’s his life.

His death, too.

Somehow.

“Ben,” Luke says, grabbing at his face with… well, with one hand, but he moves like he expected both, and forgot the other wouldn’t land without a prosthesis. “Ben, I’m six again. Or seven or five or something. The point is, I’m small and I have one hand and you’re alive. I have no idea what planet we’re on, but the Force is being weird everywhere.”

Is it?

It is.

Obi-Wan had thought it was mostly because he wasn’t dead anymore.

Why isn’t he dead anymore?

He can hear his heart beating. That’s disconcerting.

Luke tugs at his collar. “Ben, come on, focus.”

“Luke,” Obi-Wan says, and he can’t say more.

His head is in the clouds, and past them. His mind spins across star systems and feels… Light.

There’s dark, too, but less, and there is light. So many bright, shining, familiar motes among the hubbub of life.

“Oh,” he says, feeling far away and loose to the atoms. Luke puts a tiny hand to Obi-Wan’s face. It comes away wet. The child himself looks worried, but Obi-Wan can’t be bothered to notice. His family is back. “The Jedi are alive.”

–

When Obi-Wan comes back to himself, it’s because Luke is pulling his clothes over, and the noise is disruptive.

“Luke?”

“I couldn’t help you,” the child-who-is-not tells him. “So I decided to bring my things closer, since it’s all I cando.”

“Let me help,” Obi-Wan says, still a little far away and unable to claw his way back into his own self. He finds a tank top, nothing quite as nice a quality as a Jedi’s tunic, but small and form-fitting on an adult Luke. He motions the boy closer, and puts it on him, quickly twisting and tying and pinning it in place, until it looks… well, it doesn’t look fashionable, but it’ll do until they can get him something in the right size.

“I’m still mad at you,” Luke tells him, even as Obi-Wan does what he can to make the underthings function as pants. They’ll have to turn his jacket into a long overtunic if they want him to avoid more attention than necessary.

“Because I didn’t tell you about your father,” Obi-Wan sighs.

“Because you planned to have me fight him,” Luke says, and the strain is audible. “And you didn’t tell me who he was.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t want to talk about each and every reason he hates to think of Vader’s identity. “It would have made it more difficult.”

“I deserved to know, Ben.”

He did.

Obi-Wan finishes tying off what he can, and adds the jacket as an overlayer. It fits poorly, even repurposed, but it’ll do for now.

Luke turns around when he’s done, crossing his arms as well as he can.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says, because there’s nothing else he can say. “I’m… perhaps if we’d had more time—”

“You don’t actually believe that.”

Obi-Wan looks away. “I don’t know. I can’t know. I like to think that I would have.”

But it hurts. Even all these years later, even after dying to his blade, it still hurts to think of that monster as Anakin.

“I don’t know how long it’s going to take for me to stop being angry with you,” Luke says, blunt and frank and all such things.

There are plenty of things Obi-Wan could say to that, about how anger isn’t the Jedi way, about how it would have only hurt Luke to know his father’s identity, about how Anakin as good as died on the shores of Mustafar. He doesn’t say any of them.

He looks at Luke, and he wants to cry.

The peace of death, of being one with the force, it’s beyond him now. He’s back in a body, a real one, and it may not have all the aches and pains of the one he died with, but it has the chemicals and hormones that any human body comes with. He has to struggle to rein them in.

Luke huffs and turns in too-big socks, and plops himself right onto Obi-Wan’s crossed legs.

“Luke?”

“I’m cold,” he says, leaning back against the layers of Jedi muslin and linen. Obi-Wan’s breath catches, memories clashing as he remembers holding Luke, age three seconds, Anakin, age ten years, Ahsoka, age fourteen. Children in his care, and—and—

(The robes are in better shape than the ones Obi-Wan had worn for over twenty years.)

He never had a chance to hold Luke like this, after giving him to his aunt and uncle. Obi-Wan should have been there for the twins, more than he was. He should have been able to visit Anakin and Padmè in the senatorial apartments, to watch Luke and Leia grow up with each other and their parents, to be an uncle instead of just the strange, mad old man in the middle of the wastes. Obi-Wan has lost so much, so many times over, but in this moment he is only struck by how utterly he was robbed of his chance to enjoy the family he could have had. Anakin would have had to leave the Order, yes, but Obi-Wan would have visited at any chance to see his brother, to see his niece and nephew, his sister-in-law, his…

Obi-Wan has given up his chances at family, willingly and not, far too many times, he thinks. It’s enough to break a man. It’s probably broken him.

He’s wrapping his arms around Luke and pulling him close before he can stop himself, head falling to press against the soft, straw-blonde hair, and he trembles. He knows he’s crying, and he very well can’t stop himself. The world shines around him, dark but not hopeless, and all Obi-Wan can do is cry on the child in his arms.

It’s too much.

Luke doesn’t push him away, thank all the little gods, just turns a little and clings to the inner edge of his robes.

None of the lights are close enough to be familiar. He knows they are Jedi, but he cannot hazard a guess as to who. He has a vague sense that Yoda is alive, but that doesn’t narrow it down, really, not beyond ‘somewhere between the fall of the Order and nine hundred years ago.’

“Ben?” Luke prompts.

He can’t speak.

He can barely breathe.

His body is almost young again and he can’t do a damn thing and it’s too much.

Luke sighs, tiny and high. “Okay, then.”

(Continue on AO3)

miss–kiwi:

birdiepuh:

alphyne-chariel:

julieyumi:

1-5: be completely baffled by 
6-10: in the mistaken belief that it is a puppy, attempt to pet
11-15: ascend to the throne of the world as the new god of
16-20: cry a lot about
21-25: seek heaven through
26-31:finallyget to be with your beautiful lover, who is

january: the weight of your sins
february: full communism
march: rage bigger than your body can contain
april: the Sun
may: eleven-dimensional space
june: violence
july: the merciless confines of linear time
august: a fictional character
september: the void
october: a ghost
november: every single dragon
december: a giant robot

I finally get to be with my new lover, who is eleven-dimensional space.

Finally I can seek heaven through full communism.
I have never felt that whole before.

i will finally get to be with your beautiful lover, who is the void
a dream come true

I finally get to be with my beautiful lover, the merciless confines of linear time.

UGH THIS IS TOO REAL