#Potato Thoughts

[zia-the-weirdo]

Something something characters that trap people in “paradise” while they’re rotting away

[muddthebugg]

what do you m..

what do you mean El Tigre Primero was in the opening scene for Maya and the Three (2021)?

what do you mean Maya and the Three (2021) and El Tigre: Adventures of Manny Rivera (2007) are in the same universe??

wh.... HWAT. WHAT.

Man..... man my brain is about to go off even more than it already had before -

LIKE??? YA BOI WAS JUST STANDING AT A GATE. What does that say about how he lived back then?? Was he some sort of guardian? I don't know that any sort of striped feline, much less a fuckin tiger was native to the area - perhaps some sort of mystical creature that died out, but descriptions lend itself to the image of a tiger, which is what his ancestors used since his passing???

I GUESS??????

but why was he at that gateway lookin thang....... i need to know.

or. I really want to 🥺

reagardless!! really enjoying Maya and the Three, and will be returning to my re-watch of ET:AOMR afterwards,, :]c

[arlin-potato2]

That goodbye song is stuck in my head

[potato-pencil]

International Superspy: A Backyardigans fic

The cold metal of the pistol pressed against his back, digging deeper and sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. Adrenaline surged through his veins as the familiar routine began, but he didn’t budge. He had committed the script to memory by now: a dark alley, a creeping figure, a crowded pub, and countless whispered secrets and repressed desires. This was London at night—or at least, London for Agent Secret. He swirled his drink, letting his eyes drift over the many faces in the room, each one with a story, yet he was only interested in the figure behind him. He sipped his drink one last time before turning his gaze to the mirrored wall in front of him, revealing the owner of the pistol he was being forcefully acquainted with. A coy smile formed on his face—tonight, he wasn’t on a regular mission; tonight, he was called to action.

“Agent Secret,” the figure whispered, their breath fanning his ear as they moved to sit on the empty stool, the pistol never leaving its spot on his back.

“Lady Pink,” he greeted solemnly, acknowledging the obnoxiously pink hood that encompassed the woman now beside him, accompanied by her usual scent of roses. “We keep meeting under the most unfortunate circumstances, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You have only yourself to blame for that, agent,” she teased, her voice laced with a playful edge as her eyes roamed his body, searching for what he could only assume was the purpose of her appearance—the flash drive he currently held. “You have something that doesn’t belong to you,” she said, her gaze snapping back to his, her intense eyes holding him in place, aside from her gun, of course.

“Always so eager to make accusations. Yet again, patience was never a virtue you possessed.” He set his cup down on the bar with a forceful thud, catching the attention of the distracted bartender. “And here you are, with a gun to an innocent man’s back. What does that say about you exactly?” His eyes abandoned hers, focusing now on the bartender.

“It only shows I’m a woman who knows what she wants,” she retorted, pressing the pistol further into his back, reminding him that her threats were anything but empty. “And who knows how to get results rather efficiently, at that.”

A mocking smile formed on his face. “Efficient?” he questioned sarcastically, allowing himself to look at her only through the mirrored wall in front of him. “I feel the need to remind you of that situation in Cartagena. We’re calling that efficient now? Because I don’t think that’s the word I would use to describe that moment, my lady.” His gaze remained fixed on her, watching as her face twisted in a pained cringe at the dreaded memory before she quickly collected herself.

“Do not make me cause a scene here,” she warned,applying pressure on his back with her pistol reminding him that she held the power, a fake sweet smile plastered on her face. Her tone was sugary yet commanding. To the outside observer, it looked like a couple out on a date, where the man was being a bit of an ass, and his seemingly sweet, doting girlfriend was doing everything to charm him. She had her arm around his back, strategically holding the pistol out of sight, making it look like a hug. Her body was pressed close to his, appearing defenseless—when she was anything but.

“Always one for dramatics,” he sighed as memories of her previous scenes flooded him. “Can we at least drop the pistol? I know Tyrone must be nearby with my head as a target, and we both know his aim is deadly.”

She smiled, pressing her body closer to his and pushing the pistol painfully into his back. “Very well,” she uttered, retracting her weapon into her coat. A red dot briefly appeared on Secret’s forehead, signaling that the danger had not passed. “Will you hand me the drive, or will I have to forcefully retrieve it?”

“A drive?” he questioned in feigned ignorance. “You’re going to have to give me a bit more to go off of here, my lady.”

Lady Pink leaned in further, her voice a low murmur that barely reached his ear. “This drive holds something that could turn the tables in ways you can’t even imagine, Agent. It’s not just about money or power—it’s about control. You wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of this, trust me.” Her words conveyed not just her seriousness but also an invitation that Agent Secret had refused before.

He turned to face her, forcing her to peel herself away and create distance between them. His eyes scanned hers for any hint of something genuine, but they found nothing but seriousness. “My dear lady, I’m sorry,” he said, fixing a strand of hair that had fallen out of her neatly made braid. His fingers gently grazed her face as he tucked it behind her ear. His eyes already conveyed an apology before his words could. “Trust is something I can’t afford to freely give.” With that, he recoiled his hand, fully abandoning the touch.

Her mouth parted slightly as a hint of pain crossed her eyes. “I—” she began, only to be interrupted by the intrusive ringing of a phone—Agent Secret’s phone.

She stared at him in clear annoyance as he nodded to whatever was being said to him. Her mind swirled with a complex mix of emotions: rejection, urgency, and the high stakes involved. Agent Secret didn’t seem to appreciate how fortunate he was for her to meet him in person, even if it was under the threat of certain death. Normally, she would send Tyrone for such tasks, yet here she was, and he was on a phone call.

She sighed in frustration before her own phone rang. She reached for it from her coat, only for the bartender to accidentally spill an alcoholic drink on her. She stood up in a frenzy, dripping with the drink as she received a steady stream of apologies mixed with the aggravating sound of her ringtone. Her coat was ruined, her phone was ringing, and the bartender’s futile attempt to dab her coat with cheap napkins only heightened her irritation.

With a sigh, she glanced at the stool behind her, a snarky comment ready to combat whatever words Secret would throw at her. But then, a surge of panic rushed through her as she realized Agent Secret had disappeared. Her eyes darted to the glass wall, now covered with curtains, preventing Tyrone from aiming. She quickly scanned the bar, finding that he had indeed vanished.

“Sorry, miss, I—” the bartender began, but she forcefully shoved him away, grabbing her phone from inside her coat, only for it to fall silent. The sound of a shutting door could be heard above the murmurs of the crowd.

She glanced back at the now-empty spot and found a note pinned beneath his glass. “Of course he would,” she mumbled to herself, barely above a whisper. The bartender was left ignored on his knees, picking up the shattered glass from the ground, as she grabbed the note from the counter, her distraction shattered by the reality that Agent Secret had slipped from her grasp with the drive.

She skillfully opened the folded napkin, her eyes immediately raking over the scribbled words just for an involuntary laugh to escape her. Only one sentence was clumsily scribbled on the crumpled napkin:

My dear lady, always expect the unexpected

                               -Secret 💙

[potatothots]

MY BELOVED TATO!

It's Halloween! So I'm dropping by with a little something in the spirit of the All Treats, No Tricks celebration!

🎃 - Ask a creator about a current project or WIP.

I think many of us know you for your potato reblog/reaction love, but in the summer we chatted a little about the craft of relationship building for fiction... Can you share any morsels about what you've got cooking or on the back burner?

Ahhhhhh, Aspen-spud! Sorry to get to this a few days late!

I started working on that particular story and it kept evolving. Mostly because I’m working and have a full semester of classes and I write then completely forget what I was writing. AND I KEEP DREAMING about this scene and it just…everything is different it’s so fun. I know it’s also inspired by a bunch of mob!bucky stories I’ve been seeing so far.

Here is an excerpt:

Bucky hated it. He watched you from the mezzinine of your club. You glided effortlessly through the crowd with your sequenced dress that barely covered your ass and stilletos that could either knock out a man or stab him. Your makeup and hair were perfect, even when you stopped to dance with the crowd full of sweaty bodies so close to you.

His grip on the railing tightened. It pissed him off to no end. You were so independent. It was unlike any person he’d been with before.

“You okay there, Buc?”

Bucky glanced at Steve. His long time best friend raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah,” he lied. “She’s taking too long. She wanted a meeting and yet she’s still down there playing hostess to her fucking club that has employees to do that.”

Steve caught it. He wasn’t trying to be covert about the lie, he just didn’t want to talk about it.

“I thought you said it was just a one nighter with her?” He asked, but the knowing glint in Steve’s eye said he knew.

He knew Bucky too well.

“It was. She wanted this meeting -“

“Buc, you caught feelings.”

Bucky glared at Steve. If his friend was any other man he’d back down. Hell, no one else but Sam would even suggest it.

“Fuck you, Steve.”

“I think you’d rather fuck her.”

He snapped his attention to the sound of heels clicking up the stairs.

“Drop it, punk.” He hissed over his shoulder at Steve.

Steve smirked. “Jerk.”

Bucky sneered at him, then looked back to the stairs. You were standing there, patting your face with a compact he guessed you pulled from thin air. How else could that outfit hold anything. It barely held you.

“Hi boys. We ready?” You asked, smiling brightly.

As soon as you snapped the compact shut a waitress appeared with a tray of drinks. You placed your compact on the tray and took one for yourself. Bucky noticed the other two were for him and Steve. He figured you knew his favorite drink, but Steve’s??

[potatothots]

❤️

REBLOG if you have amazing, talented WRITER friends.

Because I certainly do, and I love every single one of them and their work.

[twelvemonkeyswere]

not even JRR Tolkien, who famously developed the concept of the Secondary World and firmly believed that no trace of the Real World should be evoked in the fictional world, was able to remove potatoes from his literature. this is a man who developed whole languages and mythologies for his literary world, who justified its existence in English as a translation* simply because he was so miffed he couldn't get away with making the story fully alien to the real world. and not even he, in extremis, was so cruel as to deny his characters the heavenly potato. could not even conceive a universe devoid of the potato. such is its impact. everyone please take a moment to say thank you to South Americans for developing and cultivating one of earth's finest vegetables. the potato IS all that. literally world-changing food. bless.

[zia-the-weirdo]

"Greifer x Player" this, "Kyoko x Player" that, how about SFOTH Swords x Player huh how about that

[muddthebugg]

Got jump scared by season four Joker while watching Superman the Animated Series; the redesigns STILL irritate me.........

But, it is nice hearing Kevin Conroy's voice again.

[potatothots]

More about AI:

And there's a lot more knowledge. You need to know what all AI is before raising awareness of how bad it can be as well as how good it can be. There's a fine line that shouldn't be crossed. That is evident. But, remember how much you depend on AI in your own life, too, and be aware of how it affects others.

Using AI to steal work = bad.

Using AI filters to enhance photos? Seems okay by the masses.

AI is still AI. Using filters is still AI. It's still AI learning a face. It's still us training AI. It's just a socially acceptable result.

The problem isn't with AI. The problem is how far are we willing to go with it. Will we be morally corrupt and exploit people via stealing artwork and writings? Should we have a time limit on AI training materials, such as when something becomes public domain? What if an artist uses personalized AI they've trained with their own style only?

Or, will we work to keep AI in a good place that can help us in the medical field diagnosing illnesses quickly to save lives? Use AI to help fight cancer? Use AI to help a blind person see?

This, obviously, leads into other morality and ethical debates I'm not going to go into in this post. But, I think it's obvious as to what those are.

Food for thought.

🥔 ❤️ u.

A note to all creatives:

Right now, you have to be a team player. You cannot complain about AI being used to fuck over your industry and then turn around and use it on somebody else’s industry.

No AI book covers. No making funny little videos using deepfakes to make an actor say stuff they never did. No AI translation of your book. No AI audiobooks. No AI generated moodboards or fancasts or any of that shit. No feeding someone else’s unfinished work into Chat GPT “because you just want to know how it ends*” (what the fuck is wrong with you?). No playing around with AI generated 3D assets you can’t ascertain the origin of. None of it. And stop using AI filters on your selfies or ESPECIALLY using AI on somebody else’s photo or artwork.

We are at a crossroad and at a time of historically shitty conditions for working artists across ALL creative fields, and we gotta stick together. And you know what? Not only is standing up for other artists against exploitation and theft the morally correct thing to do, it’s also the professionally smartest thing to do, too. Because the corporations will fuck you over too, and then they do it’s your peers that will hold you up. And we have a long memory.

Don’t make the mistake of thinking “your peers” are only the people in your own industry. Writers can’t succeed without artists, editors, translators, etc making their books a reality. Illustrators depend on writers and editors for work. Video creators co-exist with voice actors and animators and people who do 3D rendering etc. If you piss off everyone else but the ones who do the exact same job you do, congratulations! You’ve just sunk your career.

Always remember: the artists who succeed in this career path, the ones who get hired or are sought after for commissions or collaboration, they aren’t the super talented “fuck you I got mine” types. They’re the one who show up to do the work and are easy to get along with.

And they especially are not scabs.

*that’s not even how it ends that’s a statistically likely and creatively boring way for it to end. Why would you even want to read that.

[arlin-potato2]

Escaping twitter only to see its similar layout here

[badninken]

He's been hauled around by so many people and animals at this point in his life that he's starting to rate them by size and comfort level.

He's literally bent over backwards on a horse ridden by three other men here. He's having this thought in the privacy of his own mind while frowning at the sky, still shot full of lead bullets btw. Peak Law moment.

Episode 690 at 20:54 (the voice acting for this line is amazing)

[potatothots]

Hi, I'm here to tell you that you're amazing. That is all ♡

This potato loves you loads!! Thank you!!!

[potatothots]

Fun fact: My mom once said: "No, and I don't care," when that commercial came on. I had just gotten home. I wasn't even a preteen. It was a school night. I got in trouble for sneaking up on her. 😅

[teaboot]

Ollie is 8 weeks old tomorrow and we have made an important discovery:

HIM LIKE BOWLING

[fairytalesofforever]

sometimes I think about how every time kaz says that kaz rietveld dies, he ignores his child self screaming "I'm alive" from the reaper's barge

idk if anyone else ever thinks about that