#We all have to start somewhere

[rynrising44]

Maybe this is an unpopular opinion, but those people on Tic Tok making videos about "things they despise in fanfiction" under the sound of "Hard times" kind of rub me the wrong way. Like, sure. Paragraphs are nice. Longer chapters are nice. Using quotation marks is nice. But do you know how hard it is to write? Do you write? Do you edit? Do you constantly stress over your works because you are so freaking fearful that it sucks and that people will bash it?

Legitimately I'm wondering.

Because one person on a tiktok said they don't read chapters unless they're at least 2k words. Another said they want more people to write for Whumptober but they want more than a one-shot because they need more than just a 3k work. Another said they only read finished fics and they have to be 100k. Like??? I hate to break it to you, but you are the problem.

I write cause I love writing. I write cause I want to read the stories in my head as concrete ideas. It takes me about 10 hours to write a single chapter that's about 2k words. 10 hours! Not including editing. I worked on a 6k one shot for an entire month. My WIPs are long. 50k words or so, and I have bookmarks from people saying "Chapter 0."

It has taken me so much time and tears and thought to write the words I have written. If no-one read my WIP because it wasn't finished and they refuse to read unfinished works, that's such a shame.

You miss out that way.

This is how AI weasles it's way into artistic spaces. Because people lack patience and want instant gratification.

It just bugs me so much that this culture is becoming more hard-core pressed on consumption instead of community. Opinions are opinions. You can share your frustrations but remember, we are all people. A lot of children are learning to write on these websites. People that speak English as a second language are putting out their best works, and here you are; overly criticizing works based on chapter length and paragraph length and POVs and tenses.

Like, guys. Writing is fluid. It's growth. I'm not the same writer I used to be, and it's because people read my fics and spurred me along that I continued to grow.

This is all humanity. This is all fun.

Free.

It's a gift born from the creativity of an individual's heart, so how could I ever refer to someone's soul as "not good enough."

It's one thing to silently not read a fanfiction. It's another to publicly shame it. That kid whose vivid imagination led them to write about characters they love can see your comments and maybe because of it, they'll never write again.

Remember that.

[friendlyeorzean]

some earlier gposes from when I was still figuring shit out :D

[moodyjudytheelf]

You know we're really down to the wire when Santa orders his hot chocolate delivered to the supply closet.

[moni-monai]

Being intentional about making my new coworkers feel comfortable and making sure they feel no shame when it comes to asking questions, even the most simple ones. <3

[hekateinhell]

omg I just realized today is my fic-versary 🥹 baby's very first fic is exactly a year old! a toddler! this is so self-indulgent and I'm sorry but idk I'm soft!!

I'm such an anxious perfectionist to the point where it hinders my daily life in the worst way and I've never felt like I had any creative talents at all but still... I wrote something! I shared it! And then I kept writing! I'm proud of myself for that, I'll own it. And I hope I'm getting better the more I go (I hit post and don't look back unless it's a multi-chapter where I have to reread to remember wtf I wrote... I haven't gotten there yet).

And I've met the coolest fucking people through fic and fandom 😭😭 Not just others to bounce ideas off of and share techniques, but also people who are my very real-life friends on and off the screen. 💖♥️

I've learned so much about what works and doesn't work for me and what works for other people and it's all so interesting! My fic goal for last year was just to write, period. Get the ideas out of my head because fic-writing feels like a disease compulsion sometimes, and I need to ramble without thought or plot and just get used to translating thoughts into worbz.

My fic goal for this year is to be more intentional in what I write and to work on creating longer pieces that are more structured, fleshing out certain aspects that I feel are my weaker points, etc.

And yeah... of course it was VC; of course it was L/A; of course it was Armand indulging Lestat being in mood by letting him dress him up in a corset and lipstick -- I was a one-trick pony long before I knew it.

[dramatisperscnae]

I'm sorry for being annoying and send too much anon ask.

If this is who I think it is, then please forgive me for answering this publicly, but I think this is important to say out loud.

Firstly, everyone has a different threshold of annoyance; that is, a different point at which they will start to feel annoyed by something. You haven't quite hit mine yet, so you're okay so far. The apology, though, is very appreciated and shows that you're aware that you could be being annoying and you don't want to be. My advice there is: slow down! Tumblr is a hobby, it's not my whole life! It shouldn't be anyone's whole life! I don't spend all my time here, and it might take me a while to answer a given ask. Take a breath and step back and give people more time to answer you. It's going to be okay, I promise ^^

Secondly, you don't need to hide on anon with me. I promise, you don't. If Tumblr isn't letting you message me directly, then go ahead and send me an ask off anon. It might take me a while to reply, but that's because I have other things to do outside of Tumblr and sometimes it might take me a while to think of how to reply because I want to make sure that you understand what I'm trying to say. If you are who I think you are, then English isn't your first language. Trying to communicate and understand things in a language that isn't your native one is hard, and it's especially hard with English because that is one of the most difficult languages to learn if you're not raised speaking it. And since you are doing your best with English I want to try and make sure that I communicate things to you in a way that you can understand well, if that makes sense ^-^ It's how I would hope other people treated me if I tried to talk to others in my own second language [which, in my case, is Japanese ^^;]

Also, if you come into my askbox off anon, I can answer things like this privately going forward ^^ I'd do that now, but while I have a guess as to who you are I don't want to actively make that assumption and send this response to a blog that might not have anything to do with this ask at all.

[spellandblade]

crawls out of the game files covered in scratches

[lfs-official]

Big fan of trans women tbh

Cis men using Linux is actually cultural appropriation of trans women. And that's the poast.

[qifreyplushie]

mu qing has come to regret being f-f-f-friends

(original meme under cut)

[avalencias]

red moon rising….

[nevertheless-moving]

unable to stop dwelling on the discworld trouser leg of time where, in the penultimate fight scene in Nightwatch, Carcer manages to kill teenage Sam Vimes.

Which means that the future that Duke Vimes came from can no longer exist, which means he can’t go home. Meanwhile you’ve got a bunch of history monks with stored up temporal energy, a prepared space outside of time, and the need to do some desperate damage control before the Auditors get involved. Death shows up, reality is unweaving, Sam is reading Carcer his discworld miranda rights because what else is he supposed to do.

and finally, with little other option, the monks de-age Sam so he fits the time period and send him back out into the fray.

(they didn't call it deageing of course. His memory is hazy, splintered during that terrible in between moment, They....took the time out of him? Sanded away the edges of his self for a terrible, workable fit? It...wasn't a good feeling.)

Just—damn. Sam Vimes having to live his whole crapsack life over again, but this time as his disillusioned-reillusioned, unwillingly-character-developed, noir-epic, Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes self. 

Younger (Older? He's never felt so Old, His steps so Childlike, reality twisting in his gut like one of Dibbler's pies) Sam Vimes walking around in a haze after the revolution. Desperate to go home, knowing he can’t. Wanting to drink. Knowing he can’t.

The whole precinct feels pity, he really took Keel’s death hard, hardly speaks except to do his job. Eventually he has to grit his teeth and start being present, because what else is there to do?

Resists the urge to drink until Colon takes the whole watch out to celebrate because -he’s going to be a father!

Come on Sammy, one drink won’t kill you— and after the first drink he’s cracking jokes and after the second hes smiling and after the third hes honestly the life of the party and sometime after that he’s crying about how he was going to be a father and my wife would be ashamed if she saw me drinking like this and— 

Oh shit, Did anyone else know he had a wife?? A PREGNANT wife??? What—aren’t you like 12—no you're 17 now aren't you but when did—

You guys n’ver met ’er—oh gods none if you ev’n know ‘er, is jus’ me...

What—when did you lose—

I lost her the same damn day I los’ ev’rythin else, whadya think...bleeding Carcer...the fuckin revolution...

So! That! Sam only vaguely remembers the night, but rumors travel faster than light on the disc, so by the next day the whole damn city knows about poor Sam brung low by the loss of his poor, tragic, pregnant wife, so young to be a widower, and the Seamstresses nod because they already knew, don’t ask them how, somethings you just have to know in that trade.

And his mother—I don’t know, sue me, I’m a time travel fiend but there’s something deeply intriguing about a man meeting his dead parent, who is somewhat younger than him, and stepping into the old relationship like a badly fitting thing that's supposed to fit well. She would know, right? How would she deal with her son’s impossible grief? Maybe she wouldn’t know—he spent most of the time out of the house, running with different street gangs, maybe he avoids her until she dies and lives with the guilt twice over. God, we don’t even know her name. There’s just so much narrative and emotional potential that I don’t even know where to start.

When he’s on duty, which is most time - it’s agonizing because at first he remembers cases, saves lives that would have been lost. But the more time passes, the hazier his memory because in the original timeline he was becoming an alcoholic. Fuck! A kid dies and he could have saved her if he hadn’t been such a drunk, if he had just remembered where the asshole lived, but it’s all a haze, and he wants to drown out his guilt, but that’s what caused this in the first place.

Good young Sammy, who spends his rare off-time in dusty libraries (and yes, the irony that he’s apparently Carrot now is not lost on him) reading gods-only-know.

It’s not like he can ask the wizards for help, cutthroat and vicious as they are now in the not-so-distant-past.

Good young Sam, who...talks to the Broken Drum’s pet Bouncer like he’s a real person and not a dumb rock? That’s a bit weird, but he’s a bit of a funny guy.

Good old Sam, who believed the testimony of the dwarf who said the humans were trying to rob him and let the dwarf go??

the PROBLEMS this man would cause, good grief. Can you imagine a moderately progressive middle aged man with some degree of begrudging diversity and equity training that he did, for all his sins, pay attention to, suddenly going back to like, 1990, going back just 30 years, and going...oh damn this is kind of fucked up, no man you can’t say that, holy shit.

Except Sam’s lived through even more rapidly shifting social moroes! There’s no seamstress guild, there’s no women allowed inside the university, there’s no black ribboner’s society. People hunted trolls for their teeth! But Sam can’t just unlearn everything, and he can’t shut up, and he has no real luck and anyway he would absolutely get himself (temporarily) fired.

FUCK. Sam has no idea what to do with that. None. Zero clue. Wanders around in a haze until that dwarf he saved from police brutality finds him and insists on repaying the debt. No, he insists, do you have any idea what debt means to a dwarf?

“Sort-of?” he replies hesitantly, and that honest admission of incomplete knowledge shows a hell of a lot more respect and understanding than any self proclaimed dwarf-expert ever did.

Gets a job as a surface man, hauling rocks into the city. It’s backbreaking work, but, in true Discworld fashion, it’s also one hell of a workout (again the irony of being Carrot is not lost him. he freezes for a minute while hauling a rock cart, when he remembers he's technically Lost Nobility too, in a strict sense, but someone curses at him in the street and he's comfortingly grounded)

And here is where this au slides into a SPECTACULAR romantic comedy, BEAR WITH ME. Because in his time on the Watch he’s already done noir, action adventure, war story, detective who dunnit, psychological horror, but guards guards only allowed him to be a romance protagonist in an extremely limited context.

Give me righteous, twenty-something-looking, can’t-say-he-doesn’t-have-style, young Sam Vimes, not an alcoholic,  being fed three square meals a day by his dwarven forced found family, hauling rocks. He is startled to find him bumping his head on a low hanging bar that he doesn’t think used to be there, eventually realizing that he’s an inch or two taller than he remembers. Huh. Guess all that bearhuggers really did stunt his growth.

Still doesn’t get what some of the looks from women he’s getting are about, sure, he’s dirty but so is everyone else. Fine, he took his shirt off, but it’s hot out, there’s far wrinklier than him hauling heavy loads, get a life. 

Happens to glance in the Ankh one day when it’s particularly slow and shiny and is startled to realize that he might be turning heads for a different reason. Oh. Right, not that he was ever a heartbreaker, but he did alright for himself... when he was a younger and his face hadn’t been broken so many times. Which...it isn't now.

Is mildly disturbed by the revelation.

Especially once things blow over at the precinct and what with high mortality rates, he ends up with getting hired again. The boys are delighted to have him back, nevermind that he’s an odd one, noone is ever quite in your corner like Vimsey, absence makes the heart fonder, no one else works that hard, and he’s not even competition for promotion. All around great guy, we should set him up with somebody and just, no.

It just keeps getting worse! He’s literate! He’s a feminist! He believes abuse victims! He’s got a tragic backstory! He’s unreasonably good in a fistfight! He’s kind to animals! Word gets around that there’s a good man on the watch and he’s just waiting for a good woman to come snap him up. The widower excuse doesn’t hold people off completely, and for some it’s its own sort-of appeal. 

Things REALLY become stressful after he rescues that carriage full of noblewoman.

What’s he supposed to do? Let them get robbed? Or worse? Chasing down and beating up 10 goons is as easy as beating up one, when they’re that stupid, getting separated like that, drunk and distracted, and he knows these streets better than anyone, really it’s nothing. And oh lord he’s Modest too.

I mean, they were genuinely greatful, as genuine as people like that are capable of being, the skill having grown rusty. And then there is something...magnetic about the man. An air of command.

So, soon enough you get Lady Marigold of Marigrave calling on Treckle Road for that gallant young officer who rescued them, she really needs to thank him. And Viscountess Elanor Thitzferal specifically requesting that he guard her at her next soiree. And Baroness Julieta van Shoeholten insisting that he come to her home while her husband’s away, for... manly protection.

Aaaah just zero sympathy from the guys. None. 'It’s become a competition, they’re just trying to see who can get me into bed first, it’s like I’m a piece of meat, you can’t send me sir, the Marquess greeted me in a nightee last time you made me go to—' and 'small gods Vimes are you even listening to yourself, shut the hell up'.

Simultaneous to this, (again this is several years into the timeline) swamp dragon accessories come into style. Which means abandoned swamp dragons scrounging on the street. Vimes takes one back to his apartment, blows his paycheck on dragon medicine, and eventually, heart in his chest, brings it to the Ramkin estate. The sunshine orphanage doesn’t even exist yet and he’s just standing outside the gates like an idiot, what is he thinking. Turns around, but her carriage is pulling up and—

well. they meet. it's cute. he's never felt so young. he's never felt so old, too old for her, too poor—

and certainly her thoughts linger too long on the awkward, kindly, handsome young commoner, but is it any wonder she doesn't quite connect it to the stern, dangerous, sexy young guard the ladies seem to be in some quiet, cuthroat competition over?

i have this gorgeous, absurd scene in my head in which Vimes is strong armed into standing guard at some high society soiree and one of the pushiest ladies insists he dance with here, or, if he prefers, if he's not confident about his skills, he can dance with her in-private at her home and he’s like [grinding teeth, looking for a way out, seeinf one] “I would be honored to dance with you.”

Steps right into some ultra-complex dance with multiple partner swaps (she never thought he'd pick this one, devilishly intimidating to one not strictly trained, and you barely spend anytime with your first partner).

But he does alright. Better than alright, for a common man, sometimes misstepping but his hands and feet always end up where they need to be. Raises several eyebrows part way into the song because he's throuwing in some slightly scandalous, no innovative, extra lifts and twirls that wouldn't become fashionable for another decade or two. Who even is that guy? Some out of towner? No, no he's in a guards uniform...how very strange.

Gets to Sybll and she's used to embarrassment during these dances, she tries to get out of them when she can... but can't always. Men awkwardly skipping the lifts, or worse, trying and failing. But him — oh it's him, the one who helped little Erold, and looked at her like—like—well like she was someone beautiful. And he's doing it again, and he's strong and there's a quiet moment where she's in the air, they lock eyes, and the rest of the room melts away.

And then the partners change again, the moment ended.

Just...living throught it all again. To the left, a dance he almost knows the steps to, throwing others off balance with erratic moves , honest mistakes, and delibrate stepping on toes. Improvising. Ruining. Improving. Getting far, far too much attention.

Hes almost excited when the first assassains start coming after him. It's like a hobby.

Everyone tells him he should get a hobby.

Interactions with young vetinari...I don't have the energy to write it all down, the slow circling in on each other, both burning with the need to fix the city, save it, their city.

needless to say he ends up fired again, life under real threat after offending some high lord.

Conveniently enough he has an employment opportunity- bodyguard to fucking Vetinari on his 'grand sneer.' The bastard knows vimes isn't what he seems, though sam is pretty sure that he doesnt know the exacts.

Vetinari hypothesis:(the ghost of keel? Keels son, with some hereditary curse? Or a larger spirit of justice possessing a string of unrelated souls? He knows things he shouldn't- mind reader? Fortune teller? Havelock once arranged for a wizard to bump into him on the street, the magical fool gave an odd double look and then muttered something about destiny looping in on itself giving him a headache. Destiny? Lost noble? And hes far too familiar with sybyl, one of the few bearable noblewomen in this city. And his thoughts on guilds, when havelock can trip him into speaking... Most of all, if hes reading him at all correctly (for all the mystery hes not that hard to read, unless thats a very clever cover) then it seems that behind those dark haunted eyes is Respect. Loyalty. For vetinari. What an interesting man. A puzzling asset. An intriguing threat. )

Did I mention the timeline is changing, healing slowly around the place where it was torn? Healing enough around scars to perhaps get some flexibility back, with some painful stretches and...massaging of said scar tissue?

And hes heading to unresting uberwald, a place where a werewolf pack still hunts humans and, truely unrelated but perhaps equally exhausting, an eldritch spirit of vengeance just might be looking to stretch its legs in a hapless vessel?

Opening drabble Vimes Vetinari Meta (Unwell) Scene from the Uberwald Grand Sneer

[entirelysein-e]

Can we please stop bullying new writers and discourage them to grow in their hobby and start bullying the nasty individuals that send anon hate instead? Thank you.

[thevirgodoll]

to all of my dolls finding themselves:

originality is the "aesthetic" you are looking for. individuality is the "it factor" you are looking for. from your personality, pieces, hair, cadence of voice...even down to your favorite foods or special interests. you aren't supposed to change every aspect about yourself to be more palatable for everyone you meet. that actually makes you BORING!!!

"but so and so is doing this" "but what if people don't like it" ... so??? don't take people disliking your aesthetic as a sign that you need to do something different. like, of course they don't like it or have second thoughts - it's because THEY wouldn't do it themselves because it wouldn't go with THEIR given aesthetic. HELLOO??????

unless they are like minded, stop asking other people to weigh in on the things you CLEARLY like about yourself. especially if it's a core personality trait or interest. your LIFE isn't a group project. your LIFE is not a co-op game.

and yes... people will try to force you to assimilate and follow the crowd by speaking misfortune on your rebrand, your expression, your hobbies, your chosen path out of jealousy. however, that jealousy is lowkey unspoken respect for the fact you have the candor to go against homogeneity.

your authentic dedication to everything that makes you YOU is what will bring you the illustrious life you so fervently seek in the end...not some book a celebrity wrote or a youtube video. it's in YOUR DNA to be a star already in anything you want to do.

there isn't one tutorial on this world wide web that will help you if you don't realize you have the components within you first. there is NOTHING wrong with you!!! you are EVERYTHING that is right already!!!

NEVER conform to the way they think you should shine.

[jojo-schmo]

[The Forgotten Land Roleswap: Chapter 2 49-50]

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[uniiiquehecrt]

Voice actors are NOT the same as actors.

It takes a specific kind of skill-set and training to be able to warp and meld the voice. It takes a certain kind of talent and dedication to hone that talent into the ability to meld the voice and invoke emotion with one's voice alone. Actors are used to using their voice secondarily to their body language and their facial expressions. It's all mirrored back on camera. They do have nuance. But it's a different kind of nuance and a different kind of training to produce that nuance.

Voice actors might get their likeness transposed on their character's design, and maybe their mannerisms might seep into the character's animation. But when it's all said and done: their presence is in their voice. They are bringing a character to life, showing that emotion in their voice, trying to keep a specific accent, drawl, pitch, tone in that voice and keep it consistent for their recording sessions.

The voice actor is like a classically trained musician who can play first chair in a competitive, world-renown orchestra. The actor (who fills the voice actor's role) is like a moot who played violin in beginner and intermediate high school orchestra and thinks they can get into Juilliard with that 2-4 years of experience.

This doesn't mean that the HS orchestra moot can't play. They can even be really good at it. Maybe they won competitions and sat first chair. But they are not in the same league as the person who's been training their whole lives and lives and breathes to hone their craft using the instrument and all of the training they've ever acquired to perfect it. They are not meant for the same roles. They are not in the same caliber. You do not hire the HS equivalent when you want to play complex music in a competitive orchestra.

Actors are not the same as voice actors.

And furthermore, actors - especially big name actors - taking the roles of animated characters for big budget films or TV pilots makes no sense anyways when - at least in the case of TV pilots - there's not a point to hiring a big budget actors anyways. That money could be used elsewhere (like paying your animators), and the talent that is brought onto the screen for X character could then be hired on to voice said character no recasting required.

I wouldn't say voice acting as a profession is in danger exactly, but it's certainly being disrespected and overlooked for celebrity clout, and this has ALWAYS been an issue. Shoot, even Robin Williams knew that much - which is why he tried so hard not to be used as a marketing chess piece for Aladdin and got royally pissed off when it happened anyways. People shouldn't go to any movie (but especially not animated films) because "oh famous actor is in it". People should go because it's a good movie and the voice acting is good.

People who honest to god think that voice actors are replaceable because "oh well anyone can voice act" or "I like xyz celebrity so naturally it'll be good" ... Honestly I just wish you'd reassess your priorities because you're missing the point and are part of the problem.

Voice Actors ≠ Actors.

[hanzajesthanza]

everyone talks about how you’d have to be stupid to rob a witcher on the street, because he can dodge your punches and slice you up easy

no one ever talks about how you’d have to be stupid to rob a witcher, because he has no money to rob