#but like. with all the BS going on?

[ducktracy]

There's something ironic how a series of events that almost led to the film getting canned ended up working out just right to elevate the film instead (given that it was originally planned to be a straight to streaming film)

FOR REAL!! any attention is good attention... especially since WB JUST AXED EVERY SINGLE LOONEY TUNES SHORT OFF OF HBO MAX ON THIS WEEKEND OF ALL WEEKENDS UGHHHHhhhhghhhh 🙃 what a slap in the face. i said this before but after the end-credits gag, someone in our theater said "yeah, unless Zaslav writes it off" which made me and everyone else in the theater laugh, but also really amused me because i didn't even realize that The Common Folk™️ were aware of all of the corporate greed and BS-ery going on, which certainly is revealing. it's genuinely a miracle that this film got made, much less was released in theaters. that's why i'm not expecting any miracles and sort of ignoring all of the box office reports because it's just wonderful that this exists at all, and is again a reason i'm SO adamant about people seeing this. you may very well never get this opportunity again. i'm glad to hear that it's generating buzz though, and some of my favorite reviews have been from folks who have no attachment to the LT franchise. this is what my best friend whose only knowledge of LT is distilled through me said about it which makes me happy.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[lexosaurus]

If you're only commenting on a fic to ask for an update or worse, to be passive-aggressive about wanting an update, then please do both yourself and the writer a favor and don't comment at all.

Saying things like "Can't wait for the next update!" as part of a comment about how you enjoyed the chapter is one thing, but just going into the comments and being like "Where's the update?" or "You haven't finished writing the next chapter yet?" or something similar is not only rude, but also I ASSURE you it only serves to make the writer anxious about writing at all.

Fic writers are not content creators. We're not robots. We're real people with careers, families, and other irl responsibilities. Writing is something I do in my thirty minutes before I go to bed to wind down from the day. Whatever I want to write that evening is what ends up getting written.

So by making me anxious and putting pressure on me to update a fic, especially in that passive-aggressive way that so many people do, all you've ensured is that when I open up my folder that evening to see what I feel like writing, my eyes will completely skip over that WIP that I got the rude comment on that day because I Feel Bad about it and now I don't want to even look at it.

So please, just follow the golden rule of "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."

[800db-cloud]

Can i know your HEADCANONS about spyper? :0

OF. COURSE. and bonus RED spyper stuff too!

i don’t have very deliberate headcanons for a lot of freaks, but spyper is an exception because he used to be one of my very favorites :) he still honestly kind of is

i didn’t know how to include it, but another headcanon about spyper i have is that he has traits and habits that are “leftover” from the spy and sniper he used to be. his right pointer finger is twitchy and fidgety (a trait from sniper), and he chews on wheat as a substitute for cigarettes (sniper wasn’t a smoker, but spy evidently was and spyper gets nagging feelings of needing a smoke still).

the RED medic that sewed spyper together honestly did a shoddy job, since spyper still feels and thinks his body is rejecting his head. he often feels disembodied/disconnected in his own body. yknow… being two separate people grafted together and forming a third, new subconscious and everything. wicked stuff

and i don’t have a lot on RED spyper for now, but i do know that i think he’s a LOT more ‘stable’ of a hybrid than (BLU) spyper is. i wonder what his deal is

[spicyvampire]

Understatement of the century

4MINUTES (2024) EP. 8 + EP. 6

+ Bonus : Tyme being mesmerized by Great smiling a little

[whitebookposts]

We all heard of crack-ships. But what about crack-FRIENDships? I think Oro and Lemm would have a very interesting dynamic as an unlikely friends duo. Just two old men talking trash about everyone else together like two teenage girls

(transcript under the cut)

panel 1: Oro: Lemm, a question. As a friend to a friend. Lemm: M? panel 2: Oro: That Quirrel fellow... are you and him- panel 3: Lemm: I do not like where this question is going, so I'll say this: me and Quirrel are nothing more than colleagues, at BEST. While it's true I tolerate him more than most bugs here, it is born out of appreciation for his skills and knowledge, NOTHING MORE.

panel 4: Oro: ... Young Sheo, in Oro's memory: I- I just appreciate Hegemol's strength and skill, that's all!

panel 5: Oro: MHM. Lemm: DON'T "MHM" ME!

[childrenofcain-if]

i am writing the main story. just so you know that i need time to finish chapters that are more than 100k words when i’m a full time uni student.

if you have so little faith in me when i’ve put so much thought, time and effort into this story, you should do us both a favour and leave. you’re saving yourself the non-existent ‘disappointment’ and i’m saving myself the headache of reading through more of these stupid asks.

i have no obligation to write for you. i’ll do it when i feel like it. stop acting like you’re paying me to write. the audacity you have would make people think like you’re providing me paychecks every month tf? i’m not your servant, goofy.

you don’t like the scenarios? fine, great. but many of my readers do so i suggest you just move along now and boss around some other IF author.

[intramoon]

Lovell Art Club @ Spice District San Myshuno

Nes's just opened her own art studio, Lovell Art Club, a local spot for art classes, with free art spaces and a small supply store! Her dream has always been to have her work in a formal art installation. But now, as she transitions out of sex work and into the next stage in her life, Nes wants to create a creative space she can share, particularly with her daughter. She is employing other sex workers who are also transitioning out of sex work. This is the space and the team!

Left to Right: Wednesday Bennett (Owner, Painting Instructor), Bernia "Bernie" Banks (Cermantics & Pottery Instructor), Genevieve Fields (Sales, Fill-In Instructor), Araceli DeLa Rosa (Painting Instructor)

[burningcheese-merchant]

@fount-of-knowledge I saw your tags on the BurningCheese wedding cake post and I've returned home from war with a souvenir

Yeah sure girlie, get your boring ass white apathy cake, so predictable-

I beg your pardon

She actually asked for chocolate on her cake this is not a drill. With some blue on it. Like the blue in Dark Cacao's robes and hat. "The little haetae" yeah sure. Sure, it's about Cloud Haetae. Sure it is

(Ok ngl her seeming to want to make Cloud Haetae happy is actually really cute. Apathy my ass. She is a proud mother of one and is looking to find him a new dad)

Bitch stop lying, that's Walmart Bill Cipher's job

Ok lol

[somepinkthing]

Something something tim drake who has never been put first by anyone he's ever loved in his life being told he is not only kon's first but also his only robin..... for the only thing that kon cared abt to be the fact that tim felt wanted and treasured and important to someone....., that he didn't give a damn about how other ppl might feel about what he just said....... esp knowing that he literally had his home and title and dad ripped from him in the last year......

[demaparbat-hp]

Almost

[inactiveobeymeblog]

No matter how I look at it, compared to Asmo, Lucifer has the smaller waist.

[gunsatthaphan]

nah sorry but this is pissing me tf off. not that ohmleng were my favorite pair but I did like them and if this is because of those fckass ON haters (or even other haters) then im sorry but???? gmmtv knew about this, this has been going on since before Kidnap even aired so a) why set them up as a pair, cast them in not one but TWO new projects, give them merch and all that if you can't handle a few butthurt mfs and b) why not take some action against this bs???? FFS. and this isn't even the first incident. like maybe take some time to think and do some market research or prognosis or whatever before you go back and forth with your pairs and most importantly take better care of your artists. smh.

[cowardlykrow]

Despite herself, the Emma is wooed

[pikhachu]

sighh late night extra bc i got pissed off and what i feel she feels

[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