NPCs from the world of LANCER

blake kathryn

Kiana Khansmith
taylor price
No title available
No title available
we're not kids anymore.
Misplaced Lens Cap
noise dept.
trying on a metaphor

Love Begins
Sweet Seals For You, Always
styofa doing anything

PR's Tumblrdome
Claire Keane

Discoholic đȘ©
Xuebing Du
Show & Tell

romaâ
NASA
ojovivo
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Canada

seen from Indonesia

seen from Canada

seen from TĂŒrkiye

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Netherlands

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany

seen from Canada
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Ukraine
seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from Sweden
seen from France
@siriusfuck
NPCs from the world of LANCER
Absolutely losing it
critically acclaimed â80s anime âstar trek: the next generationâ
am i the only one that feels like everyone is sleeping on T0-B1âŠ. it was def one of my favorite episodes of visions
i liked that it was an homage to astroboy, and even tho it was a lot cuter with a simpler narrative than some of the others it was a very good story. like this was a jedi who survived order 66 who was trying to do good in a terrible world by bringing life to planets. i read someones headcanon (canât remember who anymore sorry!!!) that T0-B1 was probably based off of that jediâs padawan that died as a way to cope. the fact that he sacrificed himself to keep T0-B1 safe even after he made a mistake⊠amazing. the whole fight at the end where T0-B1 was fighting the inquisitor and who he was so surprised a droid could use the force (which to me felt like it should have been a bigger deal⊠have we seen other droids use the force?)
the best part was when the symbol for the jedi order flashed in T0-B1âs eyes before he defeated the inquisitor⊠showing that he was a true jedi⊠that had me tearing up ngl
also all the little droids were the cutest and i want 100 more of them
R2 is Force sensitive #confirmed
also I wept when the plants grew
A warrrior with abundant osteoptimism and one more skeleptical re: bone toughness.
Op I want you to know that âI donât drink enough milk to be that confident in my bonesâ is now something I will say at every opportunity
I wonder if multilingual dnd characters work like multilingual people irl
Character 1: hey can you pass me the (demonic screeching)
Character 2: (visibly disturbed)
Character 1: (takes mundane object out of character 2s hands) sorry I forgot the word for it in common...
This made me laugh really hard. It deserved a comic. đ
moist von lipwig and bitcoin
And the new day was a great big fish.
A Discworld FancastâMonstrous Regiment
STARRING: claire foy as polly âozzerâ perks zawe ashton as maladict(a) sophie mcshera as alice âwazzerâ goom lauren socha as the voice of caborundum jade amara karan as lofty tewt antonia thomas as tonker halter becci gemmell as igorin(a) sharon rooney as shufti manickle
[requested by anonymous]
YES. YEEEEES
Vetinariâs Terrier: out
Dearheartâs Unusually Large and Completely Blonde German Shepard: in
Set in future where Vimes breaks both his hips on the job and Vetinariâs seen with a single gray hair in public and they have to retire.
the king of cats on cat island
i. Sam Vimes dies at nineteen, and not in his bed. The Peopleâs Republic dies with him, blood on the streets and blood in the river and blood in Samâs hair, matted to the cobblestones his feet will never learn to read through his boots, and thatâs life. He dies, and the Republic dies with him, and thatâs life, because life, as Sam knew even at that age, isnât fair. When they find his body, no one recognises him, and he is buried not in the grave of the unknown soldier but merely in the grave of the unknown, the tombstone which marks his final resting place left blank, eerie. When the springtime comes the lilac blooms and they remember. When he died, he died for nothing, as all men do. He died crying and afraid and for nothing, and when he died, the Republic died with him.
Without him, Vetinari dies at the end of an assassinâs blade and the city they both died for doesnât see a real democracy for a thousand years.
But thatâs life, and lifeâs not fair.Â
ii. Sam Vimes dies at twenty-nine, and not in his bed. He dies in a gutter, and is truly forgotten, Nobby and Fred the only mourners at his graveside, a true watchmanâs funeral. He dies, as all men must die, and certainly all men who drink twice as much as anybodyâs liver could reasonably handle. Nobby cries and Fred pretends he doesnât, and they flip a coin to decide who becomes Captain now. Both outcomes, be assured, are equally disastrous.Â
His ancestor, the Kingkiller, becomes a footnote in history, and he too is forgotten in time. There are no more republics in Ankh-Morpork, and no more kingkillers either, and the city feels the weight of a lacuna no-one knows how to name. The city greys and dies, and there is no justice in its streets, no bravery in its hidden little cloisters. The city herself becomes forgotten, and even her gods die.
Deep beneath the earth, in what was once a little cemetery by the Ankh, there is a stirring. But that, for once, is another tale.
iii. Sam Vimes dies at thirty seven, and not in his bed. He stands up to a dragon, to the Patrician, and above all, to himself, but is caught by a piece of falling masonry as the battle rages forth. His city burns, and burns, and dragonfire spreads across the world, leaving nothing in its wake but suffering and death.
In the never-dark, they whisper: a man held his sword to the dragon, once, long ago. If he did itâ if he did it. Can we?
They donât even know his name, but it doesnât matter. Sam Vimes was born to inspire revolutions. They donât need him to be living to bear his name. They donât even need his name at all.
The world burns, but fire fights fire, and, when all is said and done, what else was Sam Vimes but that?Â
iv. Sam Vimes dies at forty eight, and not in his bed. He dies with a demon under his skin, after he changed the world, or most of it, perhaps even saved it, run ragged by the Summoning Dark, because the human body has limits and heâs tested them once too often to make it through this time. He dies in agony, the second most powerful man in Ankh-Morpork, the veins of his eyes shot black as night and the scar on his wrist pools blood into the dust of Koom Valley, and what use is money and power when youâre a vessel for a demi-god, or at least something like it, and heâs too human, much too human, in the end, to make it through.Â
When his blood touches the ground, it sizzles. Vetinari kneels beside his corpse, and does not say that he died a hero, because he would never insult him that way. From a mountaintop, he looks down and sees the mark scored into the earth, his friendâs body the epicentre.
âThis place belongs to Him now, and is protected forever,â says a grag, and Vetinari feels the initial more than hears it.
âA copper, even in death,â Vetinari does not say, for his breath catches in his throat, and some things are beyond words, even for him.
v. Sam Vimes dies at sixty nine, and not in his bed. He dies with a crossbow bolt in his heart, stepping clean between the Patrician and certain death, an automatic reflex that he would have done consciously, if that sort of time constraint had left him with the illusion of choiceâ and perhaps it did, time slowed down so palpably he could count every white eyelash, every thread on Vetinariâs collar. He always knew he would die for this man. He always knew he would die for this city. Same difference.
âDonât you dare, Sam,â says Vetinari, and Sam opens his mouth to say, oh, piss offâ
VIVE LA REPUBLIQUE, says a voice, and two eyes that are not eyes shine like the implosion of galaxies in the dark.
âWhat?â says Sam, which is odd, without a mouth.
YOU ARE THE KINGKILLER, says Death, THE LEADER OF THE REVOLUTION. WE HAVE MET BEFORE. DO YOU NOT REMEMBER?
âAnd now Iâm sodding dead!â says Sam, âDonât tell me Heavenâs bloody real. Another king, all I fucking need.â
THERE IS NO HIERARCHY IN WHAT COMES AFTER, says Death, and Sam smiles.
âFinally,â says Sam, that great weight slipping away for the very first time, âWell then. I might get a bloody rest.â
âOh, Vimes⊠just a brief word, if you would be so good. Not you, Captain Carrot. Iâm sure someone is committing some crime somewhere.â
Vimes remained staring at the far wall while the room emptied. Vetinari left his chair and went over to the window.
âStrange days indeed, commander,â he said.
âSir.â
âFor example, I gather that this afternoon Captain Carrot was on the roof of the Opera House firing arrows down toward the archery butts.â
âVery keen lad, sir.â
âIt could well be that the distance between the Opera House and the targets is about the same, you know, as the distance between the top of the Barbican and the spot where the Prince was hit.â
âJust fancy that, sir.â
Vetinari sighed. âAnd why was he doing this?â
âItâs a funny thing, sir, but he was telling me the other day that in fact it is still law that every citizen should do one hourâs archery practice every day. Apparently the law was made in 1356 and itâs never been-â
âDo you know why I sent Captain Carrot away just now, Vimes?â
âCouldnât say, sir.â
âCaptain Carrot is an honest young man, Vimes.â
âYes, sir.â
âAnd did you know that he winces when he hears you tell a direct lie?â
âReally, sir?â Damn.
âI canât stand to see his poor face twitch all the time, Vimes.â
âVery thoughtful of you, sir.â
-Jingo, Terry Pratchett
âWe would have won, you know,â growled Rust. âWe would have won! But we were betrayed on the brink of success!â
 Vimes stared at him.Â
âAnd itâs your fault, Vimes! Weâll be the laughingstock of Klatch! You know the value these people put on face, and we wonât have any! Vetinari is finished! And so are you! And so is your stupid, mongrel, cowardly Watch! What do you say to that, Vimes? Eh?â
 The watchmen sat like statues, waiting for Vimes to say something. Or even move. âEh? Vimes?â Rust sniffed. âWhatâs that smell?â
Vimes slowly shifted his gaze to his fingers. Smoke was rising. There was a faint sizzling. He stood up and brought his fingers up in front of Rustâs face. âTake it,â he said.
 âThatâsâŠjust some trickâŠâÂ
âTake it,â said Vimes. Mesmerized, Rust licked his fingers and gingerly took the ember. âIt doesnât hurtââ
 âYes, it does,â said Vimes.
 âIn fact itâAargh!â Rust jumped back, dropped the ember and sucked his blistered fingers.Â
âThe trick is not to mind that it hurts,â said Vimes. âNow go away.âÂ
â Terry Pratchett, Discworld, Jingo
That was very Lawrence of Arabia thing to do from Vimes and its one of my favorite scenes from the book.. especially what then followedÂ
IM MAD AT HOW RIGHT THAT SHOE POST IS >T
im actually really really fucking happy because this is exactly what sam vimes and his harmfully romanticized cardboard soles deserve. this. nubby, breathable material and upsetting articulation.Â
now imagine him jogging along in his toe-shoes and then stopping to vape