I don't wanna make a fuss about moving at all, so please don't be mean to me about it.
It's absolutely nothing to do with anyone or anything to do with Toot Planet, just me moving into a different space.
If you follow me here, you'll want to be following me there.
I'm driving myself crazy, I think I need some kind of summer project.
Not anything against Toot Planet or anyone or anything -- it's just that an additional level of control over my Masto experience is within affordable reach, and, well, that'd be nice.
Seriously considering paying for masto.host or a similar service.
If cats ever figure out to look at what I'm pointing at instead of what I'm pointing with, that's when we're gonna be in trouble.
Bed! G'night, y'all! ♥️
oh well this is gonna work great in prose, I'm sure
@likecroft The 1960s annuals are all /very/ shenanigan-y -- the lead character is called Dr Who, he travels in his ship Tardis, and the stories mostly boil down to "land on planet, briefly engage with conflict between two alien races, fuck back off again," and they're all written by one or two uncredited writers with very little oversight.
They're /very/ weird.
I've been ignoring the annual I was in the middle of for a while, and this is the mess I come back to.
The idea of Dr Who landing in Heaven is just ridiculous -- it's not even the first time I've seen basically this scene -- they get Ben and Polly backwards, and Dr Who is more like the early season 1 mean grandfather than the space hobo he's supposed to be at this point.
("Planet of Bones," from the 1968 Doctor Who annual.)