#god I need to draw rincewind more

[magpiedraws]

OCtober Day 14 - Who/What inspired your OCs I don't really ever deliberately base my OCs on existing characters, but I definitely do so subconsciously - at this point rereading a book I loved as a kid, or re-watching a show I was obsessed with years ago, will always inevitably lead to me going 'wait a fucking second. is my OC just (previous blorbo)???' at some point - tbh its extremely funny every time, I wouldn't change a thing

took this as an excuse to draw my two favourite ocs interacting with the characters I think most influenced their personalities - Gabriel and Rincewind (Discworld) are probably bitching about whatever quest the universe has bullied them into against their will, and Viamo, Regis (The Witcher), and Giles (Buffy) are probably all extremely confused as to why none of their vampire knowledge seems to line up, despite the fact they all claim to be experts on the subject.

[wizzardhat]

alright im reading/rereading all discworld books in (approximate) order. Because only some of them are available through audible I'm kind of alternating between two at a time because the ones that aren't on audible I have to listen to on my computer, which is how I managed to finish Mort before The Light Fantastic. I'm still calling it "in order" though because i make my own rules and i am a god of my own making

rambling below cut

So far I've (finally) finished The Colour Of Magic (probably my 4th or 5th attempt lmao), re-read Equal Rite & Mort, and now I'm alternating between Wyrd Sisters & The Light Fantastic--very close to finishing the latter so I'll be on to Sourcery soon, which I'm hype about bc I've been told this was the Book Terry recommended people start with.

To me the issue with TCOM is Terry hadn't quite nailed down how to really bring his characters to life just yet--I can already tell that TLF is kind of bending in the right direction but as early as Equal Rites that spark is totally there. I have a feeling that that's the main reason why I found it hard to feel invested in Rincewind so I'm excited for Sourcery, since it'll be the first novel focused on him after we get over the hump. Also his cameo in Mort definitely hit different when I actually had enough context to appreciate it.

I completely forgot how much i loved Mort. I remembered enjoying it a lot but I forgot how genuinely cute Ysabell & Mort are and also absolutely ICONIC Death lines such as CURRY TIME! and I AM SADNESS which annihilate me every single time without fail. Also I'm weak and Mort's "don't leave me" after he breaks out of the Death Trance has been Living In My Head Rent Free as the cool kids on Twitter love to say. I have not felt an urge to draw sappy fanart in probably a full decade but I am feeling it rn.

AND THEN THERE'S

GRANNY

WHOMST I LOVE

Granny is really like...not my comfort character in the sense that people usually use now. Comfort characters generally leave you feeling as though you've visited with an old friend, but one who is approximately your equal and therefore someone you relate to heavily. Granny leaves me feeling as though finally I've had a chance to talk to someone who I actually believe knows what they're talking about, has it all figured out, and who I genuinely aspire to be more like, and I feel better for it, and more equipped to deal with life. Like, when I Need An Adult, I wanna read a book with Granny in it. Genuine role model material, even with her many imperfections. PTerry's ability to write interesting, flawed, loveable women is always wonderful and refreshing, but what I love most about Granny is that she is badass and unfeminine and powerful and nothing about her revolves in any way about her attractiveness nor any romantic arc. Arguably peak ace and possibly aro rep. Someone who is respected, and admired, and fails to meet any expectation that women are usually held to. Everything is on her terms. And she is just...incredible and i love her so much.

I think that's it for now. I actually had to throw this in drafts last night and I finished TLF this morning and I'm about an 8th the way in to Sourcery so, we will see how that goes.

Also this may be an unpopular opinion, but I think the Blue Sky 2-part tv movie about TCOM & TLF is arguably a lot better than the actual books--it cuts out a lot but it captures the right amount of Discworld magic & the adjustments to the characters are a lot easier to get invested in. To be honest I watched it before I finished Sourcery, so I was surprised that while the movie made a small effort to show Twoflower & Rincewind becoming friends, and their goodbye was warm and felt appropriately awkward but bittersweet, the book was just straight up awkward. And to be honest I miss the little guy and I'm sad he won't pop up until way down the line in Interesting Times.

[superchartisland]

Discworld (Perfect 10/Psygnosis, PC, 1995)

The worlds of computer games and fantasy/sci-fi books have long been close together. Early British gaming milestone Elite was one of many, many games to have taken some inspiration from Douglas Adams’s sharp and funny science fiction parody The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. In the other direction, let’s look at Terry Pratchett, Douglas Adams fan and the UK’s best-selling author of the 1990s thanks to his Discworld series roughly doing for fantasy what Hitchhiker’s did for sci-fi, but many times more prolifically. Pratchett drew on his lasting interest in computer games in his writing. Small Gods (1992) is a spin on the central mechanic of Populous that gods get more powers the more believers they have, with the twist of considering what really counts as belief. Racist mis-step Interesting Times (1994) ends with its main character controlling a Terracotta Army stand-in via what is obviously the interface from Lemmings. Outside of his Discworld series, Pratchett wrote a whole book about a computer game, Only You Can Save Mankind (1992) in which the main characters are drawn into a game that’s somewhere between Space Invaders and Elite. He takes the side of the aliens.

Meanwhile, alongside Adams and Pratchett’s witty, knowing parodies of genre fiction, in the world of gaming LucasArts were making a big success of point’n’click graphic adventures which served as witty, knowing parodies of genre fiction. There’s no coincidence there: Douglas Adams worked together with LucasFilm Games (as was) on their first adventure game, Labyrinth, a logical extension to Adams’s own interest in computers and his role writing the text adventure version of Hitchhiker’s. Across the Atlantic from LucasArts, the biggest British success in the world of graphic adventures in the early ’90s was Simon the Sorcerer by AdventureSoft, who had originally wanted to make a Discworld game but couldn’t get the rights. Instead they made something in much the same spirit. Title character Simon is essentially an amalgam of Pratchett’s early Discworld protagonist (and useless wannabe wizard) Rincewind and LucasArts’ Monkey Island protagonist (and useless wannabe pirate) Guybrush Threepwood.

By 1995, a Discworld graphic adventure wasn’t just a good idea, but practically an inevitability. Beyond the intertwined background, the format is perfectly suited. The slow, detail-focused gameplay is a perfect delivery vehicle for comedy. There’s a reason why Rincewind and Guybrush Threepwood, self-aware and sarcastic commentators on the world around them, were so compatible, and indeed you play as Rincewind in the Discworld game. The meta tendencies of the genre line up with one of the key repeated themes of Discworld, the idea defined on occasion as ‘narrativium’: narrative is one of the key building blocks of the world and able to exact a powerful force upon events. Things happen because they are expected to happen, and because they make for the best story. At one point Discworld the game plays on one of Pratchett’s best straightforward manifestations of this — “one-in-a-million chances happen nine times out of ten” — getting the player to work out the exact series of accessories that will add up to the hero’s chances being 1,000,000–1.

Lots of games make you work out what their developers want you do as a solution, but few tie that puzzle-solving as directly in to the narrative as graphic (and text) adventures. The actions in question tend more to the detailed mechanics than the grand sweep, but at best progress is a kind of collaborative narrative process between creator and player, tuned to the same wavelength. You progress the story by working out what the story is going to be. Or what the story should be. The player enacts the force of narrativium.

And so in Discworld the game, Rincewind is not just aware, as in the books, that he is the unwilling hero in a fantasy story, and what the rules of that story are. He is aware that he is the hero of a fantasy point’n’click adventure. His ambulant suitcase companion of infinite and terrifying capacity, the Luggage, may not have been written as a parody of game inventories, but it certainly reads like one.

After watching the game’s intro the player knows that it’s a story about a dragon on the rampage in the city of Ankh-Morpork, but Rincewind doesn’t yet. Look out the window at the distant figure of the dragon, labelled as ‘shape’ and he comments that it’s obviously a plot element, or it would have a better label. In that kind of moment the game extends in a worthwhile way from both Discworld and point’n’click games. In others, its puzzles are far too obtuse to give the feeling of figuring out the story, going a long way beyond the standard of the genre in difficulty. That makes for a lot of time going around trying out everything possible, which means that the world and its characters being enjoyable to spend time with is even more important.

Rincewind’s turn as sarky, put-upon man, dealing with a world around him which is obviously mad, is enhanced by being voiced by Eric Idle. I won’t go into the further links between Monty Python and Douglas Adams, because my history bit at the start was already long enough and because Elizabeth Sandifer already did it excellently, but there is a positive kind of obviousness to that casting too. Likewise, given the comedy fantasy-historic setting of Ankh-Morpork, the presence in the cast of Tony Robinson (throw Blackadder into that web of British humour fiction somewhere too). As a fan of the Discworld books, one of the best parts of the game is hearing familiar characters given voice. Tony Robinson’s take on amoral street peddler Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, unflappable in the face of having his cons pointed out, played like Baldrick if his obliviousness was a cunning front, is particularly delightful. As a representation of the daft, inventive, funny world of Discworld, the game is a happy success. It fills its inevitable role very well.

However, as a series, Discworld isn’t just daft and inventive and funny. Well it pretty much was to begin with, and remained that way in much popular perception for a long while afterwards. There was a reason Pratchett kept bringing Rincewind back for lazy romps in new places. Discworld would not be as well-loved as it remains if that was all it was, though.

The plot of Discworld the game draws heavily on the eighth novel in the series, Guards! Guards! (1989), which was a distinct turning point in the tone and range of the series and its satire. In it, a dragon is set loose in the city and is eventually stopped with help from the efforts of the under-funded, under-respected, under-the-influence guards of the City Watch, who gain some self-respect in the process. The book turns away from the typical special one born-into-the-role hero of the previous books, giving starring roles to characters in positions that would previously have made them cannon fodder or comic relief alone. The importance of the life and story of every single person is a strong theme throughout the series. Keeping the Watch as leads would have made for a different and less obvious game, but replacing them with Rincewind — a wizard from the parody of privileged academia that is Unseen University — loses that strand of the message.

The other thing that Guards! Guards! brings through strongly is anger at how society is run, and to whose benefit. In its story a manipulative palace insider uses the petty grievances of a bunch of working men to incite them to summon a dragon. He plans to stage a vanquishing and install a puppet ruler, but loses control and instead himself ends up as puppet to the monster he conjured. Pratchett returns repeatedly to the fickle will of the crowd, influenced via the forces of narrative. When the dragon winds up in charge of the city, the most cutting satire is how easily treasure-hoarding and virgin-sacrificing are accepted as the new normal. The people in power in a position to do something quickly fall to collective self-interest, content as long as they believe they’re not supporting the burning of their faces. That kind of seething argument for greater justice became more prominent as the Discworld books went on.

This whole theme, though, gets minimised by the game’s changes to the plot and its wider insistence on prioritising knockabout comedy. No chance is missed for cartoon logic, and even where aspects of the plot like the dragon’s desire for revenge on its summoners are kept, they’re played for laughs There is parody but nothing like the sharp satire of the source material, and it puts humour above anything, including sometimes fidelity to its characters. Across the series Pratchett has a running joke of the university’s orangutan librarian reacting violently to being called a monkey, but the many times the game has slapstick scenes of Rincewind doing that (or similar to other characters) and being bashed on the head doesn’t ring true. He’s the Librarian’s assistant from pretty early on in the series and regardless, if nothing else, his defining cowardice would make him more cautious than that. The game’s humour goes broad again and again. It may well include more jokes about men wearing dresses than it does women, in dresses or otherwise. That doesn’t come out of nowhere — Pratchett never quite got past the temptation to bite on easy jokes even if they sat uneasily with his moral messages — but the game feels closer to his worst early instincts.

To get completely anachronistic, I like to imagine a Discworld point’n’click based instead on much later books in the series. Tiffany Aching, analytical teenager training to be a witch (a position portrayed as being social worker and midwife more than it is magician) would fulfil a need for a level of unawareness and observation as player stand-in really well, and would allow for a game with a very different tone. That could be more than a cartoon romp in a familiar funny world. As it is, Discworld the game is a well-realised vision of Discworld, but it’s a vision of Discworld which was already old hat by the time of its inevitable creation.

Gallup Compact Disc chart, Computer Trade Weekly 3 April 1995 (chart for week to 25 March 1995)

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Previous

Thanks for reading and liking and commenting. And thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the continued beta-ing.

So Jamie and Claire have been living in their own little bubble of lurve... time for a wee bit of reality. Bit of angst ahead

Chapter 15: A Complicated Predicament

“I don’t know what to do,” he said.

“ No harm in that. I’ve never known what to do, said Rincewind with hollow cheerfulness. “Been completely at a loss my whole life.” He hesitated. “I think it’s called being human…” - Terry Pratchett, Sourcery

As a rule, after a gruelling gym session or an energetic game of squash, Jamie and John would catch up over a coffee and cake, or sometimes, a beverage of a more alcoholic nature. Of course, Jamie’s tipple was always whisky. John could occasionally be persuaded to partake in whisky, but generally preferred a gin and tonic. For the sake of their friendship, Jamie tried to ignore this character flaw.

The landlord of the pub they frequented turned a blind eye to their tracksuit bottoms, training shoes and shower-damp hair, provided they sat in a discrete alcove and nobody tripped over their gym bags.

Jamie sat nursing his whisky, while John sipped his gin and tonic.

“So, how are Jenny and Ian doing with the baby?”

“Jes’ great. Three weeks old now. She’s a wee sweetheart. Jenny says thanks fer the gift. She will write ye a proper thank ye when she has a spare minute!”

“No, she doesn’t need to bother, honestly. And how’s Jamie coping with the little usurper?”

“Ah, gettin’ better. He reckons she’s not too bad as long as she doesna play wi’ his toys and he doesna have tae give up his Spiderman bedroom. I think…”

Jamie was interrupted by the ring of his mobile. He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at the screen, frowning, then rejected the call.

“Geneva, again. She’s started sendin’ me texts and callin’, wanting tae meet up. I’m ignorin’ her at the moment, but if she keeps on mitherin’ I’m gonna have tae tell her straight.”

“Have you told Claire?”

“Nah, didna want tae bother her. Nay point if Geneva stops.”

A brief chirp told Jamie that a text had arrived. “Geneva again. Wants me tae go round tae talk.”

“Look, why don’t you just go? Explain to Claire what you’re going to do, but just put an end to it. Otherwise she will keep on.”

“Aye, guess ye’re right. Face it head on.”

************

The hospital coffee shop was not the most ideal place for a date, but with Claire on call, it would have to suffice. Jamie had already ordered and was sitting at a table with two large Americanos by the time Claire arrived.

“Sorry, I’m a bit late, I know.” Claire pulled her chair around to sit next to Jamie, rather than facing him. “I had to change out of my scrubs. They won’t let you sit in here with them on. Maybe it upsets the visitors, but they didn’t have any blood or any other bodily fluid on them, so I don’t know why. God, I needed this.”

She took a huge swing of her coffee. “OK. Out with it. You, sitting there with those puppy dog eyes. Either you’ve done something that you think I won’t like, or you’re about to do it. Tell me.”

Jamie cleared his throat and nervously tapped his finger against his coffee mug, beating out a random rhythm. “Weel, you ken I told ye about Geneva…”

Claire nodded. She folded her arms across her body, ready to provide protection if, or when, the blow should fall. She felt his tension radiating outwards.

Jamie saw her instinctive move. “Nay, Sassenach, dinna worry, it’s no’ bad. Jes’ wanted to let ye know, she’s started tae mither me wi’ texts and calls. Doesna seem like she’s willin’ tae give up. I need to get her tae stop. I’m no’ interested and she kens that.”

He ran his hands through his hair, the curls now sticking up around his head as if he had just woken. Claire unfolded her arms and stroked it, straightening it into a slightly neater hairstyle.

“When we went out last year, I never gave her any promises, never told her… weel, what I’ve said tae ye. So, I’m goin’ tae see her, jes’ tae put her straight once and fer all. Are ye alright wi’ that? I want tae always gi’e ye honesty. I want ye tae trust me completely.”

“I do trust you, Jamie, I really do. This is new to me - trust and honesty in a relationship. You know, when I was with Frank, I don’t think there was ever honesty between us. He wasn’t honest to me about the phone calls, the so-called out of hours department meetings, the extra tuition pretence for his attractive students. And me, I wasn’t honest to him: playing along, pretending I believed all his excuses. But, I trust you. Go and sort things out with Geneva. And make it clear about us.”

“Seems like we’ve both had some dodgy exes, eh?” Jamie joked as the tension between them lifted.

Jamie shuffled his chair closer to Claire. He whispered in her ear. “I’ll make sure she knows I’m completely in yer power and happy tae be there. I love ye, Sassenach.”

**************

Deja vu, Jamie thought to himself as he stood at Geneva’s front door. Wiping his sweating palms on his jeans, he tried to calm the rolling in his stomach before he pressed the doorbell. He really didn’t want to hurt anyone, but once again, he was standing here waiting to give Geneva the bad news. He wished he hadn’t seen her again at Rupert’s wedding nearly three months ago, hadn’t gone out with her, hadn’t slept with her. Two more deep breaths and he rang the doorbell.

Geneva answered the door almost immediately, obviously waiting for him to arrive at the agreed time. She ushered him in with a tight smile. Not saying a word, she pointedly looked at the doormat. Jamie, knowing the drill, quickly pulled his shoes off and followed her into the living room. He moved to the middle of the room as she hovered by the door.

“Would you like a drink - tea, coffee, water, juice?” Geneva ran through the list of possible beverages.

“Nay, I dinna want anything tae drink. I’m no’ stayin’ fer long. I dinna want tae upset ye again, but I’m in a serious relationship and…” Jamie began his practiced speech.

Geneva interrupted him abruptly. “No, it’s not that. Did you think I’d come begging for you? Jamie, I’m pregnant. About eight weeks.”

The colour drained from Jamie’s face. Feeling his legs start to shake, he sat down hard on a nearby chair. “Wh…”

He cleared his throat and tried again. “What?”

Geneva spoke slowly and clearly, almost as if explaining to a child. “I’m pregnant. About eight weeks. That means due in February. And it’s yours. I haven’t slept with anyone else in over a year.”

Jamie rested his elbows on his knees with his face in his hands. No one spoke. Finally he raised his head.

“But when I asked that night whether ye were still on the pill, ye told me ye were. What happened?” His voice was hoarse and trembling.

“I was. I don’t know what happened. There was a sickness bug going round at work, I caught a touch of that.”

Was it Jamie’s imagination, or was there a tiny hesitation in Geneva’s words, a momentary downward gaze, the slightest reddening of her cheeks?

“Listen, the important thing is I am having a baby, your baby. I can show you the pregnancy test if you don’t believe me. I can even go and do another test right now if you don't believe me. I’ve been to the doctor. You can contact them. I’m not getting rid of it either.”

“My God, did ye think I would ask ye tae get rid?”

Jamie rested his head against the back of the chair. His eyes prickled and he rubbed them harshly. A thousand thoughts cascaded through his mind, too many to focus on clearly. A baby, an unplanned and truthfully, an unwanted baby. And was this pregnancy really unplanned? How was this going to work? What would his role be? And, oh God, how much will this hurt Claire? He couldn’t bear to see her upset. Tears welled up in his eyes, but this time he made no attempt to stop them.

A hand touching his knee brought him back into the conversation.

“So what happens now?” Geneva asked quietly. She was sitting on the footstool by his chair. The hand remained motionless on his knee.

“I dinna ken. Has yer doctor no’ made an appointment fer yer twelve-week scan at the hospital?”

“I didn’t mean that.” The hand started moving, the fingertips drawing lazy circles round and round Jamie’s knee. “I meant us. What happens now about us?”

“Geneva, I will support ye as much as I can through this. I dinna want tae be harsh, but it doesna mean that there is an ‘us.’ I was tellin’ ye, I’m with someone, someone I mean tae have a future with and I’m no’ lettin’ go of that.”

“But surely, you’ve been together such a short time. How can you know? Could we not have a future together- you, me, and the baby? I know you’ve always wanted a family.”

“Aye, I have, but we shouldna be together, no’ jes’ for a bairn. It’s no’ right. We will figure something out. Other people do.”

The hand crept steadily up Jamie’s thigh. “We could make it work, you and I. I’m sure of it.”

Jamie deliberately lifted Geneva’s hand and stood up. “Nah, I mean it. I ken ye’ll be goin’ through a lot over the next months. And I mean what I say, I will support ye and the bairn. But more than that I canna do. I will go wi’ ye to the scan. Let me know the date. And please dinna tell Rupert and Fiona until I’ve had chance tae tell Da and Jenny. Have ye told anyone yet?”

“Only my sister.”

He made his way to the front door, Geneva following. Once he had put his shoes back on, they stood there, face to face, unsure of the next steps.

“So, text me the date and I will come tae the scan wi’ ye. We can work out what I’m tae do, tae help ye.”

Geneva nodded and bit her lip, as though willing herself not to cry. Jamie stood still, his hands by his sides, drumming his fingers against his leg. How strange it felt, he thought, to be so awkward around someone, having previously shared each others’ bodies in the most intimate way and to be starting this journey of parenthood together as virtual strangers. He bent down and touched his lips briefly to her forehead before walking back to his car.

***************

Jamie wasn’t quite sure how he managed to drive home. Restless and unsettled, he wandered through the rooms of his house and tried to imagine them filled with all the paraphernalia that follows with a baby. How would that work? He supposed that there would have to be two sets of baby ‘stuff’- one lot for him and one for Geneva.

In the kitchen, Jamie opened his fridge and stood there for a minute, unable to decide what to do next. One of Mrs. Crook’s cottage pies was defrosted and ready for his dinner this evening. He had taken it out of the freezer that morning, when he still had an appetite. He let the fridge door bang shut and moved to the kitchen cupboard. Opening the door, he stood contemplating the whiskies on offer before closing that door as well. He wasn’t sure that he would be able to swallow anything. The lump in his throat was so large, he was surprised it was allowing him to breathe.

Suddenly, the whole house seemed airless and claustrophobic. Jamie ran upstairs, stripping his shirt off on the way and quickly donned his running gear.

**************

Jamie set a steady pace as he pounded the pavements. He tried to clear his head. The only decision he needed to make was whether to turn left or right at each junction. Even that seemed too much of a challenge as his feet automatically led him to the park.

He speeded up as he entered the park, forcing his legs faster and faster, his calf muscles beginning to complain. Jamie relished the pain, focussing his mind on that stopped him from thinking about any other pain. Like the pain he knew he would have to inflict on Claire. Because of him, she had allowed her barriers -- built over years of sadness and an unhappy relationship -- to break down and to let herself become vulnerable. And he knew he was now about to hurt her to her very core.

He stopped abruptly, seething with pent up anger. Anger at Geneva, anger at the prospect of a baby, and anger at himself. He turned and, balling his fist, drove it into a tree trunk several times before continuing his run.

As he exited the park, he realised where his feet had brought him. He slowed to a walk and tried to get his breath. He stopped at a tall Victorian building, entered and climbed a single flight of stairs. He hesitated slightly before knocking.

The door opened.

“Claire. Sassenach...”

[canvaswolfdoll]

CanvasWatches: KonoSuba: God's Blessing on This Wonderful World!

You know what was a surprisingly nice discovery? Crunchyroll has the english dub of the first… season? Cour? First ten episodes of KonoSuba: God's Blessing on This Wonderful World! (also known and henceforth referred to as KonoSuba) with the english dub. How magnanimous of the Dub-unfriendly service.

Konosuba was a pleasant follow-up to Kill la Kill (the review of which I’d been struggling with as I write this essay, so we’ll see if anything from that materializes). The network of Youtube Anime Reviewers had decided this was real good and funny and is worth the time. And, hey, I did have that free month courtesy of Twitch Prime, I might as well![1]

I thought it was fine! But the massive hype might’ve dragged it down. Comedy’s difficult. A lot relies on the unexpected, so if you prime viewers with “It’s really funny,” you raise critical expectations, which can undercut the weaker material.

Or maybe I’m too much of a comedic writer to get the full effect. Learned to read set-ups and such.

But I can recommend it if you have access and are interested. You won’t be disappointed.

Possibly another hurdle to my enjoyment is I went in intending to mine ideas for my own works. Spoofing RPGs and such is something I’ve long been wanting to set my skills towards, and it’s not always clear the best way to interpret mechanics.

Anyways, Konosuba has decided to parody the increasingly popular isekai[3] genre.

First ingredient: an average loser everyman for the viewer to project on. Filling the role is Kazuma Sato.[5] He goes out to buy a video game, decides to save a girl’s life from a perceived threat, and dies.

So, he needs to be reincarnated. As part of the typical Isekai set-up, he’s allowed to ask for whatever he needs to make himself massively overpowered.

So he takes Aqua, the sassy goddess offering him the choice.

This is the point where the typical formula breaks down. Kazuma has no notable advantages, and Aqua isn’t actually competent. Thus, we spend the 10 episodes stuck in the starting town of the pseudo-video game world.

So, when you throw someone into a video game or (less commonly) TRPG world, there’s the question of how to depict the actual GUI and game mechanics.

There’s the Sword Art Online and Log Horizon method, where the mechanics and their relationship with the world is unchanged, including the “players” being able to pull up a system menu to do… system menu things.

On the other end, we have Overlord, where the menu and other visuals vanish, and the tasks they accomplished must either be intuited by those translated into the world, or become part of their innate knowledge.

KonoSuba has everyone talk about the mechanics and such freely (in a tutorial NPC sort of way), but the menu has been replaced by an Adventurers ID, which shows stats and allows the adventurers to swipe and learn skills. Functional and easy for the viewer to accept.[6]

From this starting point, we have Aqua as the healer, and Kazuma as… an unclear role. He learns a Steal skill early, but he then starts learning magic, so he’s a bit of a Jack-of-all-Trades. The show’s not shy about the Master of None side of that, because the only decent stat our protagonist has is Luck, which counts just enough for him not to die and get the crucial things to fall in his lap.

Such crucial things include a Mage (who refuses to cast any spell except an excessive explosion spell) named Megumin, and a Tank-Fighter (who is… rather excited to take damage) named Darkness. Not the ideal companions, but functional.

But that also means we don’t have a straight Rouge, so I’m required to be salty about that.

Kazuma attempts to build a sustainable and fulfilling life, but the quests available are either above his capabilities or menial labor. Because life is more funny whenever things don’t go well for the hero.

The first three episodes are dedicated to establishing the setting and the characters, and aren’t actually that funny. Yes, there are things I can identify as attempts at comedy, but they’re modest attempts that don’t really build to a satisfying laugh. Kazuma’s attempt at straight-manning the shenanigans of his allies is restricted to complaining and feeling put upon, which flattens the funny moment by drawing attention to how wacky it’s meant to be.

Episode four, however, finally introduces a desperately needed element: a victim. In the form of a Dullahan who is up to his nonexistent neck with annoyance at Megumin casting a daily explosion spell on his castle.

His attempts at intimidation fall flat due to the apathy of our main party, and then Darkness steps in with her masochism, which bewilders him. He casts a death curse on Darkness, to her delight, and rides off to await Megumin to fight him in his castle.

Aqua then casually removes the curse, and our party forgets about the encounter.

A character desperately trying to do his job in spite of the ideocentricies of the main cast is much funnier than a character that just complains.

Comedy works better when it builds off what is established in narrative than over-relying on meta-knowledge and lampshade hanging. Those things have their place, but they work better as augmenting jokes or to speed up delivery, not as whole jokes themselves.

The next episode does a better job in that respect by introducing another guy with the same deal as Kazuma, except he’s a more traditional Isekai protagonist, and thus kind of a loser NEET. He also chose a massively overpowered sword instead of Aqua, and is doing better because of it.

Kazuma easily outwits him, steals the sword, and fences it. This sets a stronger character base for Kazuma: a genre savvy jerk willing to exploit the world around him for a quick buck. It turns him from a put-upon everyman into a jerk able to cause the same sort of chaos as the rest of his party.

Unfortunately, such moments are few and far between, as the rest of the season has Kazuma back to being a useless whiner. We do get closure with the Dullahan, which showcases Kazuma is actually pretty good at analytical thinking and tactics, but lacks the personal capabilities to actually fight.

The show then introduces an important character (a lich named Wiz) in a manner that clearly cut segments from the source material that, if shown in full, probably would’ve strengthened the rest of the story.

Instead, that time is used for an episode where Kazuma patronizes a succubus business that offers customized dreams. We watch an extended Q&A segment that raises uneasy implications about Kazuma’s predilections, then an uncomfortable encounter between him and Darkness which I don’t know how to fairly judge, since Kazuma is forcing Darkness into foreplay and intends to go further, but he thinks it’s a dream while Darkness doesn’t know that and thinks he’s being forceful, but she also could very easily overpower him and the show’s established…

Look, episode 9 should’ve been cut and I don’t wish to dwell on it any further.[7]

Anyways, the fall-out of that adventure is suddenly ignored as Howl’s Moving Castle (Dark Edition) lurches towards the town. Deary dear.

It belongs to the Dark Lord, though the exact nature of it and it’s controller is rather ambiguous. But it’s scary, powerful, and has immense defense. What will the town do?

Fortunately, Kazuma’s surprisingly powerful party and his tactical scheming allows them to stop it. However, in true villain lair fashion, the moving fortress starts a self destruct sequence. So now that needs to be addressed.

While searching the place to figure out how to deactivate it, Kazuma finds the corpse of the builder/driver with his diary.

Turns out, the guy was hired to build it, but thought the requirements were excessive and he didn’t really want to do the job. So he told his employers he needed a rare relic to power it, thinking it’d never get supplied.

The relic gets supplied.

So he builds the fortress, turns it on, and immediately loses control. The fortress goes on an unstoppable rampage as the builder is stuck inside. Oops. So he just kind of kept bluffing his way along.

Which tells us something crucial about this world: it runs on a narrativium fueled by malicious luck. Kazuma’s form of luck is not unique, wherein he is only fortunate enough for the next inconvenience to come along. He gets a rent-free manor not because he particularly deserves it, but because fate demands he be able to survive the winter. His companions are just competent enough to excuse their quirks. Even a second isekai protagonist finds success for only long enough to become a punchline.

It is a universe with a cruel sense of humor, and the greatest success goes to those who stumble uphill while trying to avoid detection.

It’s a world that rewards not the Aragorns, but the Rincewinds. So that’s fun.

This is best exemplified when Kazuma’s rousing success in saving the town results in him being arrested for at least property damage if not regicide.[8] And that is where the first 10 episodes end.

Now to wait for the season 2 and OVA dubs…

It’s a fine anime, but I think it’s been oversold. The premise is strong, the characters are fun, but the storytelling felt more like an attempt to hit the Greatest Hits beats. It might be worth the effort to read the Light Novel, as I suspect that might be the superior version in this case.[9]

Still, there are strong ideas, and a few things I’d aim to emulate. Especially the distinct leads. I do struggle with making a cast of diverse personalities.

If you enjoyed reading this review, please consider paying me. I have a patreon, a Ko-fi, and a burning desire to branch out into other projects but require investment to make it worth it.

We can’t all reincarnate into a fantasy world. Some of us need support to create them for ourselves.

Kataal kataal.

---

[1] My brother, meanwhile, has been binging Deltora Quest for… some reason… I know the books were pretty good for elementary school Canvas, while the succeeding series made less of an impression.[2] [2] Which is to say, bother Vulpin if you think it deserves a review. [3] Isekai (Japanese: 異世界, transl. "different world") is a subgenre of Japanese fantasy light novels, manga, anime, and video games revolving around a normal person from Earth being transported to, reborn, or trapped in a parallel universe. (Wikipedia)[4] [4] Yes, I actually used a footnote to cite a source and provide further information. Don’t get used to it. [5] I desperately want to make a Yakuza joke, but I got nothing. [6] The solution I devised for Penn & Pauper puts the Stats read-out on smartphones, with everything else being as it is in the normal world. IE, you have to manually equip weapons and armor and such. [7] Not just because my Mom is my only patreon patron. [8] They don’t specify if anyone was in the manor that got exploded. [9] Not that the Light Novels I’ve read thus far have been particularly strong. The writing of Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya and Spice & Wolf felt very stiff on the other end of the translation process. Log Horizon, meanwhile, has meandering Light Novels with a poor sense of rhythm for page breaks.[10] [10] Also, the Mighty Santa Clara Library System refused to accept my Spice & Wolf books, so now I don’t know what to do with them.

[dicehoard]

Pen & Paper Caster

Take your blue Potion's and load your Staff. Let´s talk about casters, and by caster, I mean any kind of Magician, Wizard, Spell slinger or Warlock. The list is longer then Dumbledore's Beard. A caster is basically what you would call a glass cannon, devastating and maybe beautiful range weapon of mass destruction but oh so fragile. Usually the one with the thinnest Armor and worst agility and strength… think about Stephen W. Hawking with a pointed Hat (you get the idea). But they make up for it with by having the most devastating power in pen and paper, Magic. It comes in many Flavours, be it Fire, Ice, Electricity, Gravity, alteration of Nature, Summoning, Necromancy, Holy Powers, Metalomancy, or general psychic energy, pretty much anything can be magic. Some modern games like Shadowrun even consider technomancy (the skill to manipulate and alter mechanics and electrical devices with their mind).

Beside a Warrior the caster is the most iconic Fantasy themed character you may encounter. Harry Potter, Jaina Proudmoore, Merlin, Rincewind, Gandalf, Dumbledore. Just to name some of them, they are fast spread all over the genre. Basically … if it´s fantasy there will be a caster … trust me.

Run you fool:

There are many reasons why your caster could have started the adventure. Often in of search a Magic artefact or place they found in a book, as part of their studies to proof them self. Bringing back some stolen book from the magic academy. Like everyone fresh out of school, the first thing you need is something to drink. Time to stock up on potions and magical powder to keep your powers flowing (a caster out of juice is a sad caster indeed). Because without enough magical resources a caster is as useful as a kettle made of chocolate.

Is it okay if I´m a bit unstable?

The personality of a caster can be the full spectrum. You want a caster who is brooding, edgy and mysterious? Congratulations you are a perfect fit for the dark arts. You are the adventuress type? Say hello to the element of fire. Let go of your feeling and switch to ice magic. You are horrible with cardio but love having pets like a pathfinder? Maybe you should have a magical familiar fighting for you. You want to go headfirst in combat side by side with a warrior and a Scoundrel? Grab a magical sword and light Armor and be a Battlemage

A Wizard's Staff has a Knob on the end:

Time to gear up. Depending on what kind of caster you play, you will mostly stick to light clothing like common wool or silk. As a caster, you can have magical spells protecting you. A few excuses are the rather uncommon battlemage's they gear up in leather or magical material Armor and join the battle in close combat.

The Weapon of choice is in most cases a Staff or Wand. A staff is a tall two hand mostly wooden stick engraved with runes and a head ornament. They will be either worn them on the back or held in hand to focus magic with it. Or when push comes to shove hit someone with it (you know big hard stick and all). Alternatively, you could carry a Wand. Magic Wands are short hard pieces you hold in your hand and fling to spray Magic away, the plus side is, your other hand is free to hold a FOCUS. Focuses are magical items like magic books, bags with dust, a Cristal, or a fairy in a jar. It doesn´t matter really, as long you can draw magic power from it. If you enjoy going head on into a fight why not grabbing one of the many magical weapons. Have a sword which never goes blunt, or a dagger that can paralyse the enemy. And as an extra bonus on top you can cut with them.

But NEVER forget to stock up on resources again which you may lack after a fight. If you are into necromancy you often need some body parts like teeth or squishy unmentionables. Stock up as often as you can.

If your group camps outside, caster often summon food or drink to help out. But be careful with alcohol or drugs. Magic is like operating heavy machinery. Not to forget traveling often gets dull, a caster often has a magical pet or familiar with them. These are good for getting stress of or help to entertain on long journeys.

Tasting tests:

Moving on the Classes 101. I will now go into detail on some of the bazillion specializations. You can mix up anytime depending on the game type you play providing the gamemaster rolls with it.

The Element free (Arcane):

The arcane does not roll with elemental benefits but goes with pure energy. Flinging magic missiles or explosions of pure energy or sound. Using ley lines to boost their power, they often hold some artefacts given down from teacher to student through which they focus their vast raw magical power, often portrayed in dark blue, purple or white outfits they peek out in a crowd. An animate magical object like a luggage or even the staff itself is many times seen as their companion. Sometimes sentient creatures make for good pets as well.

Pyromancer (fire magic):

Impulsive and dangerous like a Bonfire, the Pyromancer sets anything on fire, throwing molten stones or try to boil someone in there Armor. The colours worn are often red, yellow, orange, and brown. Typically, their gear consists a bit more of heavy duty leather. Remember, you can spot a smart Pyromancer by seeing them still having their eyebrows. A small talking, dancing, never fading or incinerating flame is a perfect familiar

Cold elementarist Frost/Ice caster:

Basically, the entire difference to the pyromancer is that a Cold elementarist uses cold winds, water and ice in their spells. Freezing the ground under the enemy’s feet or letting them freeze and slowdown in there Armor. If you think a Fireball in your face is brutal, wait till you get Impaled by a spear of magically hardened Ice right through your sternum. They WILL give you the chills. Wearing white and light blue mostly. For example, a never melting ice golem is a common Familiar.

Necromancer/warlock:

Now things get nasty. Death is their job and they do it good. A necromancer casts evil spells of poison and sickness. Letting a face melt like wax from a candle, Corpses explode. Necromancer often go into close combat. Like other casters, Necromancer often carry unholy items or demonic weapons. Scythe, sicles, ravenhooks, sacrificial knives and several preserved body parts. These guys do not go along with priests and holy in general. Mostly pale in skin, long haired and ornamented with fur and bones. They dress in blood red, poison green or black until they find something even darker, or a shroud of darkness itself. Good Familiars are Raven's or Rats and living skulls, or small demonic imps.

Alteration Caster:

Rare among Casters, the Alteration or Mutator deals mostly in a nonviolent way. But they are dangerous in other ways. „What is small wholly and goes bahh?”. The victim of an Alteration caster.

They disarm their enemies by changing the weapons and Armor to wood or the ever so amusing bouquet of Flowers. Not standing out in a crowd, they dress plainly.

The Summoner:

Micromanagement at its finest. The Summoner stays way back and calls for help by a magic pet. These Helpers can be anything, be it an elemental entity of fire, ice, water, arcane, curse, unholy or ghosts, golems, even living animals, dragons and treants. The modern variations are drones and robots. Depending on the game set they may need some parts of the creature they want to call, for example a dragon tooth or scale, some small magical metal item to summon a metal golem, a feather for a griffon, or some horsehairs for a horse. Sometimes Summoners engage in close combat. To arm themselves for it, they will call forth the „essence“ of a weapon, an illusion of a sword filled with the pure being of a sword so that the edge will be there. Dressing more useful then elegant, carrying often huge bags and a small magical focus.

The Cleric/White mage:

The White mage is the friendliest of all, using sacred oils and spells from holy books. They are on a mission from god to spread the good word and drive away evil. They mostly heal wounds, cure illnesses and purify things. They never harm anything except two things… Unholy creatures and Daemons. Basically, the exact mirror of a necromancer. Dressed in white often with silver or gold. They swing a small ritual mace. Familiars can be anything considered holy or pure, be it a dove or even a floating magic Tome.

Druids/shamans:

Force of nature personified. Since the first man ate a mushroom and went on a trip, they became closer to Nature. This is ancient and wild magic. Shapeshifting into Bears, wolfs, boars or birds is just one aspect, they control the will of nature, letting roots entangle them self around their enemy’s feet, and showing them that a lightning can hit the same target twice. (If you still need inspiration go watch Aang and Korra) dressed in basically anything but wilder kinds tend to dress in tribal clothing. Actual real animals are good Familiars.

How to fight:

A caster basically is a glass cannon, in case of wonder try it. You stay behind (way behind) and throw spells to damage your foes or aid your allies.  If it doesn´t die in the first try, fry and fry it again. Remember enemies may absorb or be resistant to some elements (depending) on the dungeon master.

Unholy and undead foes often can be damaged with healing spells. Try to lower the enemies defence and slow them down.

Alright that´s all for now. Keep your mind sharp, and your fireballs hot!

[readbookywooks]

‘Gods, that was awful,’ he said. ‘Mind you, so is this.’

Crew members scurried across the deck, cutlasses in hand. Conina tapped Rincewind on the shoulder.

‘They’ll try to take us alive,’ she said.

‘Oh,’ said Rincewind weakly. ‘Good.’

Then he remembered something else about Klatchian slavers, and his throat went dry.

‘You’ll - you’ll be the one they’ll really be after,’ he said. ‘I’ve heard about what they do-’

‘Should I know?’ said Conina. To Rincewind’s horror she didn’t appear to have found a weapon.

‘They’ll throw you in a seraglio!’

She shrugged. ‘Could be worse.’

‘But it’s got all these spikes and when they shut the door-’ hazarded Rincewind. The canoes were close enough now to see the determined expressions of the rowers.

‘That’s not a seraglio. That’s an Iron Maiden. Don’t you know what a seraglio is?’

‘Um …’

She told him. He went crimson.

‘Anyway, they’ll have to capture me first,’ said Conina primly. ‘It’s you who should be worrying.’

‘Why me?’

‘You’re the only other one who’s wearing a dress.’

Rincewind bridled. ‘It’s a robe-’

‘Robe, dress. You better hope they know the difference.’

A hand like a bunch of bananas with rings on grabbed Rincewind’s shoulder and spun him around. The captain, a Hublander built on generous bear-like lines, beamed at him through a mass of facial hair.

‘Hah!’ he said. ‘They know not that we aboard a wizard have! To create in their bellies the burning green fire! Hah?’

The dark forests of his eyebrows wrinkled as it became apparent that Rincewind wasn’t immediately ready to hurl vengeful magic at the invaders.

‘Hah?’ he insisted, making a mere single syllable do the work of a whole string of blood-congealing threats.

‘Yes, well, I’m just - I’m just girding my loins,’ said Rincewind. ‘hat’s what I’m doing. Girding them. Green fire, you want?’

‘Also to make hot lead run in their bones,’ said the captain. ‘Also their skins to blister and living scorpions without mercy to eat their brains from inside, and-’

The leading canoe came alongside and a couple of grapnels thudded into the rail. As the first of the savers appeared the captain hurried away, drawing his sword. He stopped for a moment and turned to Rincewind.

‘You gird quickly,’ he said. ‘Or no loins. Hah?’

Rincewind turned to Conina, who was leaning on the rail examining her fingernails.

‘You’d better get on with it,’ she said. ‘That’s fifty green fires and hot leads to go, with a side order for blisters and scorpions. Hold the mercy.’

‘This sort of thing is always happening to me,’ he moaned.

He peered over the rail to what he thought of as the main floor of the boat. The invaders were winning by sheer weight of numbers, using nets and ropes to tangle the struggling crew. They worked in absolute silence, clubbing and dodging, avoiding the use of swords wherever possible.

‘Musn’t damage the merchandise,’ said Conina. Rincewind watched in horror as the captain went down under a press of dark shapes, screaming, ‘Green fire! Green fire!’

Rincewind backed away. He wasn’t any good at magic, but he’d had a hundred per cent success at staying alive up to now and didn’t want to spoil the record. All he needed to do was to learn how to swim in the time it took to dive into the sea. It was worth a try.

‘What are you waiting for? Let’s go while they’re occupied,’ he said to Conina.

‘I need a sword,’ she said.

‘You’ll be spoilt for choice in a minute.’

‘One will be enough.’

Rincewind kicked the Luggage.

‘Come on,’ he snarled. ‘You’ve got a lot of floating to do.’

The Luggage extended its little legs with exaggerated nonchalance, turned slowly, and settled down beside the girl.

‘Traitor,’ said Rincewind to its hinges.

The battle already seemed to be over. Five of the raiders stalked up the ladder to the afterdeck, leaving most of their colleagues to round up the defeated crew below. The leader pulled down his mask and leered briefly and swarthily at Conina; and then he turned and leered for a slightly longer period at Rincewind.

‘This is a robe,’ said Rincewind quickly. ‘And you’d better watch out, because I’m a wizard.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Lay a finger on me, and you’ll make me wish you hadn’t. I warn you.’

A wizard? Wizards don’t make good strong slaves,’ mused the leader.

‘Absolutely right,’ said Rincewind. ‘So if you’ll just see your way clear to letting me go-’

The leader turned back to Conina, and signalled to one of his companions. He jerked a tattooed thumb towards Rincewind.

‘Do not kill him too quickly. In fact-’ he paused, and treated Rincewind to a smile full of teeth. ‘Maybe … yes. And why not? Can you sing, wizard?’

‘I might be able to,’ said Rincewind, cautiously. Why?’

‘You could be just the man the Seriph needs for a job in the harem.’ A couple of slavers sniggered.

‘It could be a unique opportunity,’ the leader went on, encouraged by this audience appreciation. There was more broad-minded approval from behind him.

Rincewind backed away. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, ‘thanks all the same. I’m not cut out for that kind of thing.’

‘Oh, but you could be,’ said the leader, his eyes bright. ‘You could be.’

‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ muttered Conina. She glanced at the men on either side of her, and then her hands moved. The one stabbed with the scissors was possibly better off than the one she raked with the comb, given the kind of mess a steel comb can make of a face. Then she reached down, snatched up a sword dropped by one of the stricken men, and lunged at the other two.

The leader turned at the screams, and saw the Luggage behind him with its lid open. And then Rincewind cannoned into the back of him, pitching him forward into whatever oblivion lay in the multidimensional depths of the chest.

There was the start of a bellow, abruptly cut off.

Then there was a click like the shooting of the bolt on the gates of Hell.

Rincewind backed away, trembling. :A unique opportunity,’ he muttered under his breath, having just got the reference.

At least he had a unique opportunity to watch Conina fight. Not many men ever got to see it twice.

Her opponents started off grinning at the temerity of a slight young girl in attacking them, and then rapidly passed through various stages of puzzlement, doubt, concern and abject gibbering terror as they apparently became the centre of a flashing, tightening circle of steel.

She disposed of the last of the leader’s bodyguard with a couple of thrusts that made Rincewind’s eyes water and, with a sigh, vaulted the rail on the main deck. To Rincewind’s annoyance the Luggage barrelled after her, cushioning its fall by dropping heavily on to a slaver, and adding to the sudden panic of the invaders because, while it was bad enough to be attacked with deadly and ferocious accuracy by a rather pretty girl in a white dress with flowers on it, it was even worse for the male ego to be tripped up and bitten by a travel accessory; it was pretty bad for all the rest of the male, too.

Rincewind peered over the railing.

‘Showoff,’ he muttered.

A throwing knife clipped the wood near his chin and ricocheted past his ear. He raised his hand to the sudden stinging pain, and stared at in in horror before gently passing out. It wasn’t blood in general he couldn’t stand the sight of, it was just his blood in particular that was so upsetting.

The market in Sator Square, the wide expanse of cobbles outside the black gates of the University, was in full cry.

It was said that everything in Ankh-Morpork was for sale except for the beer and the women, both of which one merely hired. And most of the merchandise was available in Sator market, which over the years had grown, stall by stall, until the newcomers were up against the ancient stones of the University itself; in fact they made a handy display area for bolts of cloth and racks of charms.

No-one noticed the gates swing back. But a silence rolled out of the University, spreading out across the noisy, crowded square like the first fresh wavelets of the tide trickling over a brackish swamp. In fact it wasn’t true silence at all, but a great roar of anti-noise. Silence isn’t the opposite of sound, it is merely its absence. But this was the sound that lies on the far side of silence, anti-noise, its shadowy decibels throttling the market cries like a fall of velvet.

The crowds stared around wildly, mouthing like goldfish and with about as much effect. All heads turned towards the gates.

Something else was flowing out besides that cacophony of hush. The stalls nearest the empty gateway began to grind across the cobbles, shedding merchandise. Their owners dived out of the way as the stalls hit the row behind them and scraped relentlessly onwards, piling up until a wide avenue of clean, empty stones stretched the whole width of the square.

Ardrothy Longstaff, Purveyor of Pies Full of Personality, peered over the top of the wreckage of his stall in time to see the wizards emerge.

He knew wizards, or up until now he’d always thought he did. They were vague old boys, harmless enough in their way, dressed like ancient sofas, always ready customers for any of his merchandise that happened to be marked down on account of age and rather more personality than a prudent housewife would be prepared to put up with.

But these wizards were something new to Ardrothy. They walked out into Sator Square as if they owned it. Little blue sparks flashed around their feet. They seemed a little taller, somehow.

Or perhaps it was just the way they carried themselves.

Yes, that was it …

Ardrothy had a touch of magic in his genetic makeup, and as he watched the wizards sweep across the square it told him that the very best thing he could do for his health would be to pack his knives, and mincers in his little pack and have it away out of the city at any time in the next ten minutes.

The last wizard in the group lagged behind his colleagues and looked around the square with disdain.

‘There used to be fountains out here,’ he said. ‘You people - be off.’

The traders stared at one another. Wizards normally spoke imperiously, that was to be expected. But there was an edge to the voice that no-one had heard before. It had knuckles in it.

Ardrothy’s eyes swivelled sideways. Arising out of the ruins of his jellied starfish and clam stall like an avenging angel, dislodging various molluscs from his beard and spitting vinegar, was Miskin Koble, who was said to be able to open oysters with one hand. Years of pulling limpets off rocks and wrestling the giant cockles in Ankh Bay had given him the kind of physical development normally associated with tectonic plates. He didn’t so much stand up as unfold.

Then he thudded his way towards the wizard and pointed a trembling finger at the ruins of his stall, from which half a dozen enterprising lobsters were making a determined bid for freedom. Muscles moved around the edges of his mouth like angry eels.

[whisperofthewaves]

Rules: Tag the followers that you want to know better!

Tagged by: @szczygi (I can’t tag you? maybe bc I don’t follow your main)

Name: a common one that hasn’t many variations. I’m not particularly fond of it.

Nickname: Sparrow

Gender: female, I guess

Star sign: Virgo sun, Taurus moon

Height: 180cm 

Sexual orientation: idek. hetero? I had a bf sometime ago. I start wondering if I’m asexual or just my body-image and self-worth are so low I just automatically refuse to entertain the possibility of having sex with anybody. wow that was bitter. I’m bitter.

Hogwarts House:  the noble. the smart. the evil. the whatever.

Favorite color: earthly warm colours, but also blue hues, and harmonizing colour schemes. basically almost all of colours except the obnoxious ones.

Favorite animal: I like all birbs and I cannot lie! (I lie. there are some I don’t like. like vultures. and that fucking rooster that terrorized me one whole summer back in 1997) also everything furry. not furry furry. oh gods.

Average hours of sleep: uh, 6? 7? but it actually looks like this: 4h, 8h, 4h, 3h, 9h, 5h, 2h.

Cat or dog person: dog. I don’t mind cats, though. it’s that there’s always been more dogs in my life.

Favorite fictional characters: Draco Malfoy, the Crows (Six of Crows), Ronan Lynch (the Raven Cycle), Rincewind, Vimes, Tiffany (Discworld), Lila Bard (Shades of Magic), Kasia (Uprooted), Tyrion Lannister...

Favorite singer/band: I don’t really know. my music taste is all over the place, but when I need something familiar and comforting I usually fall back to rock’s classics. and my anime ops/eds playlist. which also is all over the place.

Dream trip: Japan. and New Zealand. and Iceland. and Norway, Sweden, and Finland. I’m also long overdue for a visit to Great Britain.

Dream job: (omfg ‘KAWAbra’ I can’t) something with drawing/creating. running my own pagan coffee shop would’ve been nice too, exept for what the ‘running’ entails.

When was this blog created: November 2014 (are you serious I feel like it was last month)

Current number of followers: somewhere in 480′s. the number would’ve been double if not for my strict no-(porn)bot policy. although sometimes it’s so hard to distinguish a living shitposter form a shitpost generator bot.

When did your blog reach its peak: I keep seeing new people that are actually not bots, but I don’t care for popularity. I see what exposed blogs have to deal with on a daily basis. no thankyou So, if you feel like sharing, I encourage you to do so. Tag me, so I can see your post! (or message me if you can’t tag me so I won’t miss it)