#wots all dis den.

[pinkhysteria]

DREUX & ALYSSA One of Them Days

[eightyonefour]

down bad crying at the gym laughing in the debrief video

[potatocrisp]

I used to always be like 5 years late to fandoms and still have people to hang w there’s really no rules have fun and be yourself I don’t get the sudden fear surrounding being multifandom it’s called having different interests and you were born w that

[catsofemma]

her ass ain’t lookin for anything 🤣🤣🤣

[twowink]

oh hello residual embarrassment for everything i do its been a while

[mecachrome]

um. would you mind sharing more about the chinese divers doing fanservice

anon there is nothing i'd enjoy MORE... they're unironically dating imho but yani also does fanservice with her aus bestie maddi keeney and they're super cute together too *__* here's a tumblr post with the bridal carry moment which was sooo endearing because everyone else was like aw i want to carry my teammate too and followed suit 😭 but anw the gist of it is that 1) they're 3m synchro partners who just won gold and have been competing both as a pair & against each other for several years now 2) yani is 01 p and yiwen is 99 t 3) if you go through their ig pages you'll see that they have matching photo albums called 她和我 (her and me) (the cover photo being cartoon fa of them... ack 😔) / 我和她 (me and her) and the amount of blatant lovesta is literally INSANEEEE!!!

like wots all dis den. the way she fully goes on her tiptoes to hug her back i'm sensitive.......... hlsdkhflhsdf their dynamic is just sooo endearing 2 me they literally have such Wives energy, on one hand cyw talks about how she's forgetful and relies on yani to remind her of things and wake her up and handle little details (WHY ARE YOU SO MARRIEDS) but at the same time is so doting and happy to lead them during interviews (her being ready to press the microphone button for their entire interview until cyn is like oh u have to hold this ? ok i can do it myself 😵‍💫) while yani just stands there like ^__^ [smiling fondly at her] the whole time..... wow i just realized that their birth years exactly mirror- never mind. i won't say anything

also insaneperson moment of cyw explaining that she's been calling cyn 妹妹 since before they were even partners and then following it up with "but i'm the only one who still calls her that now" GIRL....... anyway. it's a lot 🥰🥰🥰

[figmoomoo-da-bizzy]

"...

Da a-pocky-lips is comin...

As much as ah want'ah help, deres reellee nuthin' ah can do, a found out 'bout man-ee thangs, 'bout mahself mostly...

Am no hero, ah can't inter-fear on da big stage, where da main act-tours are playing.

Ah can jus hop fer everythang tah get solved on it's own...

If ah get tah see da good end of dis... ah reellee... dawnt knoe wots next... ah dunno if am gonna be da same ah was bee-four...

We nevah knoe wots next fer us...

So ah bettah make sumthang fer mahself naw, da present...

Ah dink am proud of who eye am.... jus a liddul... if ah can have dis... naw dat da world is endin...den I mite....ack-shoe-all-e be happy...

It's all in yer hands now, goddypoke..."

[renaultmograine]

roight wots all dis den

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I've got my library interview today at 4, and I'm nervous as hell. I bombed spectacularly last summer and spent the next three weeks dreading the inevitable "unfortunately" email because I Immediately knew there was no hope. I went down in flames!

This year will be different.

I have to give a 10 minute storytime presentation for an imaginary group of second graders. Last year I read Tacky the Penguin, and they asked me to use props so I made a big Antarctica-themed backdrop and popsicle stick puppets, but this year they didn't specify anything so I didn't bother making any. I've chosen a handful of short stories from my Frog and Toad collection (three for sure, a fourth if I have time) and I've given funny voices to each character. Frog sounds like Ewan McGregor's Obi Wan and Toad is like a gruff old londontown bobbie, "well well, wots all dis den?"

Woodland critters in coats just feel British to me, that's the way the world works.

But the storytime wasn't why I failed last year. I failed because I unable to answer any of the interview questions. I froze like a deer in the headlights, I stumbled over my words, I think I may even have said that one of the questions was "unfair," I dunno, I've kinda blocked it out because it was so horrible. I hope to be more professional this time. I don't have any experience as a librarian, but I've worked retail/customer service my whole life and my sister runs a small business for teachers, so I think I'll be able to pull some reasonable answers from our combined experiences.

I haven't heard back from any of the dozen other jobs I've applied for, so this is really my only hope. I've been between jobs for a month and a half now, and my savings will only stretch so far. I can't see myself doing anything besides this library job.

Wish me luck!

[downtofragglerock]

My thoughts on The Invisible Man (1933)

To preface, I know that this is based on a book, but unlike Dracula and Frankenstein, I have not read the book. But I hear this isn't exactly a faithful adaptation. I will not comment on any changes that I'm unaware of.

Anyway lets get to it

James Whale is back as director, and it shows

Very well made movie

Effects are actually really good, especially considering the time period

Especially the wire work

Miniature work is also really good

There's music at the beginning and the end, but still nothing for the main duration of the film

Everyone's acting is actually pretty good, but Claude Rains outshines them by a mile

The fucking nra sponsored this movie?!

I like that the credits have to specify that yes, Claude Rains is the invisible man

I love the mystery and intrigue they set up at the beginning with Griffin and what exactly his deal is, I like the bar patrons coming up with rumors when trying to figure what's up with him

I have sensitive ears, so the old lady's screaming was really irritating and not really called for in most cases

I feel like this is the first universal monster who really gets to be a character who interacts with the cast in a relatively normal way, which makes sense given the context of the story, Griffin's just a guy

Griffin is a rude inn guest, doesn't even say thank you

They really do have a "wots all dis den?" guy here

I'm surprised how quickly they get to the invisible reveal

Griffin is terrorizing this english town by streaking

That scene where he's with Kemp and talking about killing people is really insidious

The cops main strategy for catching the invisible man seems to just be red rover

Griffin was born to be a asshole prank youtuber

Griffin has the highest onscreen bodycount of the universal monsters so far when he fucking derails a train and kills 100 people

I'm surprised how much sympathy Griffin has in the narrative

Dwight Frye makes a surprising cameo, caught me off guard

This is the first ending of these movies that doesn't feel really abrupt

And those are my thoughts, overall I liked Frankenstein more, but this is definitely second place of the movies I've seen so far

Next time we return to Frankenstein, and meet the bride

[sneakyboymerlin]

Wots all dis den 🧐

[fauxmystique]

Diary of an Ork

Diary of an Ork

Gork’s ‘Andz - 57

Braindoc sayz keep gernal, using dis ere old umie data slate to talk. We’z been on diz planit for so long, we’ze cum smart enuff to count. Z’been 57 hands of days. Dayz? Days? Woh evaMork’s Handz - 129Found me old data slate. Some grot tried to nick it. Ate ‘im. We’z bigga now, been fightin a long, long time. Have a new boy. Logistix ‘e calls ‘imself. Doesn’t sound very orky to me, buh’ ‘e sayz it’ll win us da war. Den we can go fight somwherez else!!

Grot’s Stew - 111Can’t recall the last time we had grot stew. They’ve grown thick on us, they keep turnin us un-orky. We’ve ‘ad to beat a lotta ladz down. Ladz from my squad. Good ladz.I hate this fuckin rock.

Winter - 20

Somefin blew up. Made the air all cold, and the ladz all sticky. My body burned for a while. “Cancerz” doc says. Don’t know what those are. Killed a lot o’ the grots tho. We’ze been in one place too long. Too many ladz ‘ave earned names to count. Dere’s gonna be a split soon, mark my words.

Da Splitz - 35

Well, dat’z in. War’s ovah. Not against the enemy, nah, they keep comin. Big bosses ‘ad them selves an arena match. Got bloody. Lotta ladz died. Lotta ladz… killed other ladz. Anyway. Dork’ll fix it. And Mork’ll see it done. Dey always ‘ave, alwayz will.I joined up, of course. Nobhead, I am, I joined up. Went with the black orkz though, the old guard. Da Goffs. Weirdboyz’ve been poppin up. Preachin tha good word of dancin an’ singin. One’z ‘ead popped a few weekz back. Funniest shit I’ve evah seen.Gork’z Andz - 25

‘Ello lad. The war’z goin great. Once we stopped fightin eachova, we killed the shit out of those brainy boyz. Well, some of ‘em got brainz anyway, hurhur. I’m a Nob now. Got my own squad, serve da Boss Goff. ‘s Name is Gothmog.Gork’z Andz - 26Ello Lad. we’s been round da sun one time. Seemed important, idkMork’z Andz - 2

Forgot dis was ‘ere. Ello Load. Fightin’ got dense. Made it out but… we lost da boss. And er… we lost a few of the otha nobz. Gonna have to find new drinkin buddiez, I guess. Oh yeah, we’z growing now. Mushroomz and beerz and such. S’alright, but I prefer the old stuff. Nothing like a grot stew.

Mork’z Andz - 10

8 yrz, Ello Lad. I’ve decided to call you Lad. Ello. Today woz a big day. I’m da Boss now. Weirdboyz are tellin me a lot of stuff. Thingz about Mork and Gork. About a Great Enemy. It scarze me. An’ I can’t let anybody know, dey sayz. Well, I told ‘em, I’m da boss, and so I’ll tell me Ladz!Dey laughed at me. Dey laughed at Da Boss. Seemz like Da Boss has some kleanin’ to do.Mork’z Andz - 2010 yrz, Ello Lad. Got rid o’ them weirdboyz and told the Ladz about Gork and Mork and da Great Enemy and stuff. We agreed we could probably fight it, so the war’z back on. Got some ‘umie ships shoin’ up in atmosphere. Heh. Some Mek’z ‘ll be ere soon, dey sayz. Gonna have a Rocket Boy time soon.Mork’z Andz - 3010 yrz, Ello Lad.I hate this bloody rok. I ‘ate that I waz born ere. I know now dat dere’s ovah rockz. I wizh I’z born on one o’ dem.Me squig died.I ‘ate this bloody rok.Grot’s Stew80 yrz, Ello Lad.

Been a rocket boy six yearz now. Went up in one o’ da rokkitz. Mek boy said it might explode. Don’t care. Built it meself, my girl wouldn’t ‘zplode on me like that. Course, she spilled her guts all over the enemy. Dey lit like torchez in da night. Like bonfires dey burned. Gorgeous. I kept da power core. I’m gonna put it-

‘old on lad. Tonitz gonna be a bad one. They got flyboyz now. The enemy. Bombz’re comin.Da Splitz - 10

??? yrz. Ello Lad.

Thought I’d lost you. Found you in da rubble. It made me feel somfink. Somefink I never felt before. It makez me think about my ladz. The ladz I lost. The ladz I… killed. Would dey ‘ave been alive, if I ‘adn’t spared them? Would dey be ‘ere, still my ladz? I ‘ope not. Don’t know wot that even means.

Da splitz - 12

2 yrz. Ello Lad.Got some info on wot da ‘umies call dis place. Oktarius. Weirdboyz are back. Might kill ‘em again, might not. Dey say it used to be Orruk. They urge me to find ‘is blood. Dey say.. Dey say dis iz da Big One.

Diary of an Orruk Warboss found on the surface of Octarius -- Stored in Crypt Arkmek until further study can be made --- The Omnissiah Protects even They

[storyunrelated]

War of Dakka (Dat's a working title)

Continue to chip away at my nascent 'Orks and Tau' idea (with obvious title) and I've done this first bit.

Curious if it is hitting the right notes. Suppose we'll see.

-

Lugnut, self-proclaimed best mek on the planet, was putting the finishing touches onto a personal project. He did this regularly, to the frustration of those who had actually given him money to do specific things.

Today’s project was a new type of gun, much like yesterday’s project and, indeed, tomorrow’s project, too. These aliens might have been weedy cowards who hid behind  things and shot you from far too far away and never stuck around for a proper scrap, but they certainly had a lot of very exciting guns - exactly the sort of thing that endlessly sparked a mek’s fertile imagination (and provided material with which to see this fertility bear fruit).

This particular gun was an improvement on an existing model. It had hitherto been attached to the arm of one of those weird jumpy kans the aliens had, at least until it had been liberated in a notably impressive explosion. The gun - a lovely, chunky, boxy one that Lugnut knew for a fact melted stuff right good - had then been salvaged, somehow made its way back, and even more somehow wound up in Lugnut’s hands, where it was now all set to enjoy a new lease on life.

“Get dat target over dere!” Lugnut barked, impatient. He’d finally finished hammering out the kinks on the gun (literally hammering them out) minutes earlier and the fact he hadn’t yet had a chance to shoot at something was starting to agitate. If the grot didn’t get the target in place soon Lugnut felt he’d just pick whichever part of his workshop he was least attached to and shoot in that direction. 

Firing at an actual target was mostly a formality, anyway. Made you look more professional.

But if you were on your own did that really matter? Lugnut was starting to think no.

With a final heave and an obvious level of putting its tiny back into it, the grot succeeded in shoving the vaguely fire warrior-shaped collection of junk into position. Lugnut did not wait until the grot cleared the range before opening fire. He was far too excited to waste that kind of time. Grinning, he whipped it up and pointed more-or-less the right way and squeezed the trigger. There was a crack and a flash and a clap and the target was gone, along with a good chunk of the wall behind it and the hut on the other side. Something was on fire, too, but it wasn’t anything of his so it didn’t matter.

“Dat’s dead good, dat is,” Lugnut said to himself with pride, grinning broadly.

“Psst,” said a voice by his ear.

Lugnut stopped grinning abruptly and whirled, raising his wrench and swiping it through what turned out to be empty air. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he whirled again, finding himself face-to-face with Ripslik.

The kommando was smiling at him. Never a pleasant sight.

“Zog me, Ripslik! Why you gotta be sneakin’ in here for anyway?” Lugnut growled, wrench lowering again. Ripslik chuckled. Never a pleasant sound.

“Hur. Sorry, Lugnut - force ’abit, ain’t it?”

This was why no-one liked kommandos. That this particular kommando was also a proper Blood Axe as well only made it worse. No-one liked Blood Axes, either.

Especially Blood Axes who showed up with sacks.

“Yeah yeah. Wot’s all dis den?” Lugnut asked, eyeing both Ripslik and the sack with (frankly, warranted) suspicion. Ripslik was used to getting looks like this so it didn’t bother him all that much. He gestured emphatically at the sack, complete with all the obvious tau equipment it had already had poking out the top.

“Wot’s it look like? Bitz! I got a projekt for ya!” Ripslik declared, grinning. Lugnut’s interest was piqued immediately. That word tended to have that effect on meks.

“Bitz, eh? Bluey bitz?” he asked, his interest piqued. Ripslik grinned wider, which even for another ork was a disquieting experience.

“Course.”

A ‘bluey’ in this instance being a tau, for clarity. The orks had a variety of names on offer for them, mostly because very few of the orks on the planet had actually discovered - or bothered to try and discover - the name of the tau. It didn’t seem especially important. They were enemies foremost and aliens second - everything else after that was just unnecessary detail.

Lugnut reached into the sack, rummaged, and produced a dark helmet. It was a little beyond dark, actually. Light seemed to somehow just fall into whatever it was the armour had been coated in, making it darker than dark and, frankly, kind of difficult to look at.

A head then fell out of the helmet and bounced off of Lugnut’s boot.

“Eurgh! Dere’s still alien in dis one!” He said with distaste, turning the helmet over and grimacing at the mess he could now see was on the inside. Blood and guts was one thing, that was fine, but blood and guts on the bitz? That was uncalled for. Ripslik was unmoved.

“It’ll ‘ose off! Stop bein’ a grot ‘bout a bit a blood!”

“S’more dan blood! It’s leakin’ all ova ma floor! Look!” Lugnut said, glowering and pointing to the sack which was indeed leaking all over the floor. Still glowering, Lugnut turned to one side of his workshop where lounged about half a dozen grots, half of whom appeared to be napping. “Oi! You lot! Stop lazin’ about and clean this up! Now!”

To punctuate this order - and to emphasise its urgency - Lugnut threw one of the several weighty spanners he just-so happened to have hanging about his person. His aim was very good (this wasn’t the first time he’d done this) and one of the grots did not get up to join the rest as they hurried over, grabbing mops and buckets as they went.

Ignoring all of this and especially ignoring the grots, the two orks continued.

“Wot you talkin’ ‘bout ‘projekt’ anyway? Wot you want?”

Ripslik pulled another piece of armour - what looked to be a chunk of the torso plating of a stealthsuit, just as painfully dark as the helmet - from the sack and waved it about demonstratively.

“Da bluey’s got dese sneaky suits, yeah?”

“The one’s wot turn invisible?” Lugnut asked, digging a finger absent-mindedly into his ear.

“Yeah, ‘dose ones,” Ripslik said with just the hint of a growl.

Ripslik had a complicated relationship with tau stealth teams.

On the one hand he had a profound professional distaste for anyone else attempting to intrude on his covert realm, particularly if they did so by cheating with fancy wotsits. Turning invisible? That wasn’t fair, and it meant you weren’t proper sneaky, either. On the other, he did have to admit they were at least reasonably good at what they did. For cheating alien scum.

Then again, so he’d come to consider, if he could turn invisible he could probably do it even better than they could, him not being an alien and all, and him being dead sneaky to start with. With him it wouldn’t even really be like cheating, not like how they did it. He’d just be getting up to some new level of sneaky no kommando had ever reached before. That was just sensible! 

It was this line of thought that had inspired the project.

So he’d started making a point of hunting the stealth teams down specifically, something which had cost him a fair few boys and (perhaps more importantly) a good amount of teef, too, when he’d splashed out on a scanny-wotsit made by another mek who had assured him it would flawlessly reveal anything invisible. When it worked. Smacking the thing against the head of the mek in question had done much to improve its performance, so Ripslik felt.

Still, despite the setbacks and the outlays, he had met with success. Partly on account of his natural talents, partly on account of the tau stealth teams not considering that something might be hunting them.

They knew now, obviously, but that was a bit late for some of them.

“Wot ‘bout ‘em?” Lugnut asked.

“I wanna get one of ‘dere suits, but proper orky - better! So I got the bits. Dat’s da project.”

“You want an alien invisisuit ‘fing?”

“Yeah!”

The idea of specifically building something that was for hiding sat distastefully with Lugnut, who grimaced, trying and failing to think of a way to make it more palatable to his sensibilities.

“I dunno…”

“Well, if you don’t fink yer up ta it I guess I can take dis here scrap to Snakrot…” Ripslik said, leaning in to pick up the sack again. Snakrot being another mek. The one who’d made the flawless (when working) scanny-wotsit. He probably wouldn’t have been especially seeing Ripslik again, given how their last meeting had went, but Lugnut didn’t know that.

“You wot,” said Lugnut with flat dangerousness.

“E’s dead ‘andy wiv dis bluey tek, I ‘eard. Could prob’ly knock it up right quick, yeah,” Ripslik said breezily. Lugnut scowled and jabbed a calloused, oil-stained finger.

“You better wotch it wiv’ ‘dat talk. You tryin’ ‘ta, uh, si-col-a-gee me wiv’ some grotty kommando trick, get me to do wot you want!”

“Nevah! Just sayin’, if yer not mek enough den I know anuvver one who’ll do it.”

“I’m mek enough! I can do it easy! No problem at all! Squig-fer-brains zoggin’ kommando scum…” Lugnut grumbled, quickly adding: “S’gonna cost you ‘tho! S’not cheap fiddlin’ with this stuff!”

“I come prepared!” Ripslik said, reaching back to unhook from his sneakin’ sack a smaller sack that was not for sneaking, but was in fact full of teef (some his, most not). He dropped it on the floor next to the sack of bits and it landed with a satisfyingly rattly crunch, the sound that all orks so enjoyed. Lugnut prodded the sack with a boot.

“Dis it?”

Ripslik’s turn to scowl.

“Wot you mean ‘Dist it?’?! Dis is more teef dan most Orks’ see in a life!”

Patently untrue. Lugnut shrugged.

“Yeah, well, s’not enuff, issit? Big job, dis!” He said.

Ripslik briefly considered the odds on getting what it was he wanted if he killed Lugnut on the spot. Long, he decided, and he really did want some of those suits. He quickly cooked up a workable alternative. Initiative like this was a hallmark of kommandos, doubly so for proper Blood Axe kommandos.

“Well, how ‘bout dis? How ‘bout I get you one’a dem big stompa fings o’ theirs?” He said.

Ripslik did not know what a Riptide was actually called, neither did he care. Lugnut did not know what they were called either, but he knew exactly what it was Ripslik was talking about, and his ears pricked up.

“You wot?”

“I know where ‘dey got one - ‘an lots of uvver dakka, too. They fink they got a secret hidey-hole, but I know ‘about it, I ‘found it. Howsabouts I get you one’a ‘dem, eh?” Ripslik asked. Lugnut’s mind was already starting to run away with the possibilities.

“One’a ‘dem with the, ah, you know, the-” he mimed the arm cannon of a Riptide and acted out hosing down something with a withering torrent of fearsome energy, complete with sound-effects. Ripslik nodded. He knew what the mek was referring to. The spinny ones.

“Yeah, yeah, one’a ‘dose ones.”

“I could do with one’a dose…” Lugnut said, dreamily, mind wandering off briefly to somewhere wonderful with a lot of screaming and explosions and gunfire before snapping back to the moment and the practical problems involved. “How you gonna get it back? They fry boyz wot try to get in ‘em.”

This Lugnut knew from experience. Not personal experience or else he wouldn’t have been around to say anything about it, but he’d shoved enough grots into enough battlesuits to know the sneaky aliens had made arrangements to stop you just stealing the things. He was working on a way of getting around that, but it wasn’t ready yet. He’d get through a lot of grots before it was ready, he knew, but that was the price of progress.

(On the plus side, the suits crisped the grots up super-nice, so for every failure you at least got a snack out of it. Every cloud.)

“You leave dat to me. We got a deal?” Ripslik asked.

Lugnut knew better than to trust a Kommando. Indeed, he knew better than to trust any Ork attempting to cut a deal with him, or any Ork he passed outside his workshop, or just any Ork at all, really. But still, the mental picture of one of those really, really big shiny battlesuits kept popping into his head, stomping all over his good sense. He might even have drooled a bit.

“Alright. You bring me one’a dem fings - in one piece! - and I’ll do yer armour. For yer lads, too!” He said. That was called motivation, that was. Dead cunning idea he’d picked up from somewhere - or come up with on his own? Probably on his own, on reflection. Another good idea! He was full of them!

Ripslik hadn’t expected this bonus.

“I’ll ‘old you to dat!” 

“Yeah yeah. Just leave da bitz.”

“Yer ‘avin a laugh - leavin’ bitz ‘round fer a mek…safe keepin’! Har! Nah, I know a safe spot for dese - you’ll get ‘em later!”

It had been worth a shot.

“Fair play,” Lugnut said.

Sweeping up the sack of teef and the sack of bits and slinging both over his shoulders Ripslik made his exit, as quiet as his entrance had been and just as impressive given he was carrying a whacking great leaking, clanking sack. Lugnut was all set to get back to work when the grot who had pushed the target into position and who had, in defiance of reason and in a burst of unbelievable luck, actually survived, perhaps unwisely chose this moment to stick his head up again and appeared at Lugnut’s elbow.

“Gun works good, boss!”

Whack.

Lugnut had better luck with his wrench this time. The grot’s luck, however, couldn’t stretch quite as far as they might have wanted it to, and certainly not so far as to allow it cheat death twice in one day.

“Gotta clean ma wrench now…” Lugnut muttered, scratching himself and wandering off to find something to fix.

[ratnurse]

The US fucking loves toppling regimes and then letting states falling into complete chaos and disorder and being like roight wots all dis den

[re-decorate]

wots all dis den

[leolaroot]

woke up this morning opened the door to let bug outside and both my indoor cats were in our yard. well well wots all dis den.