#they're pointlessly fucking big

[vivalasthedas]

there are a lot of good things about mods like stardew valley expanded

but one of the giant fucking negatives

is they really do not understand efficient space use in games like this

oh you made the map bigger did you? You made it take longer and be more annoying to traverse a space i have to cross a lot, hhuhh? And you added no interesting elements except endless fucking repetitive tree and shit. Well done. Truly amazing

[seat-safety-switch]

Like most of you, I was at the grocery store, tripping balls. I was wondering why the entire pancake mix aisle is now gluten-free. Yes, Julia Child, I could make my own, but I like how the binders work to seal the hole in my radiator. Plus, it smells great.

Why was there such a wide variety of pancake product available these days? I am cool with there being one kind of gluten-free pancake mix, and one kind of gluten-heavy pancake mix. Surely, there cannot be room in this market for twelve kinds of each, the shelves groaning beneath their weight, threatening to fall on someone who has very strong opinions about what kind of pancake they want to mix, exactly. Someone has gotta be putting this on the shelves and selling, like, zero fucking boxes. To get to the bottom of this, I decided that I would trick Netflix into giving me money to make a documentary.

Folks, that was what Wall Street would call a "forward-looking statement," because it was horseshit. Not only has Netflix beefed up their security since the release of Pointlessly Offensive Statements About Things People Care Way Too Much About IX, but they're also in, like, a whole different country. And my parole officer gets froggy whenever I tell him I'm going to cross international borders to commit something that sounds a whole lot like fraud. That's big government for you.

So I had to figure it out my own way, which involved staying up all night and intercepting a shipment of pancake mix to the local grocery store. It was there that I saw the horrible truth: all that pancake mix, all that distinctiveness? Came out of the same truck. They were competing against themselves. Once the driver spotted me, he realized I had figured it out. Picked up his little radio and called it in. I had to run, which was not particularly easy when you're wheezing through a single-barrel carburetor that had last been adjusted in the Carter administration. Flooring it, I jumped over several curbs, the decorative flower display in the garden centre, and made good (or at least well) my escape through the bank parking lot next door.

I thought I had gotten away scot free, until I opened the front door to my house the next morning and found a box of my favourite buttermilk pancake mix sitting on the porch, with a knife stuck in it. I love it when I get two bribes.

[elacular-kink]

Hicvember 20: Throat

It's funny that the idea for this one came to me almost immediately, because I've never put a whole lot of focus on throat movements, nor have I ever had really big feelings about vampires. Oh, by the way, this one has vampires.

Contents: Hiccups, neck focus, vampires, blood drinking and blood talk generally, enemies with benefits, degrading language (slut) (not affectionate), burping, inducing hiccups.

"Will you hold still, you insufferable bendy straw!?"

"W-well i–*ULP* if you keep ma–*HUK*–king me laugh, *HULK* of course no–*HOK* not, Wall–*AUK*–ace!"

"I will chain you to the fucking wall again! Don't think I won't."

"Oh n–*HOK* nooo, please! *HIUK* Don't throw me in tha–*UCK* that briar patch!"

Wallace snarled, showing off his gleaming white fangs through his unnaturally wide-spread lips. That just made his uncooperative slurpee laugh even harder.

Wallace Chain (AND YES THAT WAS HIS FUCKING NAME!!!) was a dignified vampire! He'd lived centuries longer than any of these walking wine bottles ever could! He was a scion of the proud immortal lines of Great Britain! He was technically still a lord, probably! This ambulatory black pudding was supposed to be his prophesied enemy, the descendant of those who had pointlessly fought his kind for centuries all across the globe! Ishmael Văn-Hall was supposed to be his generational foe to be dramatically warred with, then eventually killed in an orgiastic celebration of vampires' triumph over the pathetic cattle that was mortal man!

SO WHY WAS THIS OBSTINATE FUCKING SMOOTHIE LAUGHING AT HIM?!?

Ishmael, whose name Wallace really shouldn't have bothered remembering, was offensively mediocre and absolutely not stunningly handsome with his dark brown skin and curly hair and sharp eyes and offensively wide grin. He worked as a data entry drone, for fuck's sake! The only method of fighting he knew was taking Taekwondo lessons in a strip mall as a child, a fact which he had proudly informed Wallace of within minutes of meeting him! And here he was, tied to a chair, absolutely refusing to let Wallace get a decent drink from him because his jugular wouldn't hold fucking still because he kept fucking hiccuping and that kept making the insufferable stolen blood that pumped through Wallace's veins go inconvenient fucking places! He could only stare as the man's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat with each hiccup.

"Oh come o–*OCK* on, Vladdy *HNK!*" Ishmael tilted his neck offensively at Wallace, waggling his eyebrows. "B neg–*GUK*–gative. Very rare. *HUK* Your faaaaavori–*ICCUP*–iiiiite." His whole body bounced with every hiccup, but the way the triangle at the bottom of his neck caved in over and over again was particularly obscene. "None of th–*HUP* those gross, che---chewy RhD pr–*HUK* proteins."

"RhD proteins are not fucking 'chewy'!" Wallace jabbed a finger into Ishmael's vulgarly bouncing chest. "And do you have a death wish? With your neck fucking..." his blood inconveniently filled up his stupid fucking face "...spasming in that fashion, I could rip you open and let you bleed out accidentally instead of doing it on purpose!"

"Are you su–*HURK* sure they're not ch---chewy? I feel li–*UCK* like it ha–*HUCK* has to be like an o–*HUP* orange juice pu–*HULP* or no pulp kind o---of thing. *HMNK*"

"DO YOU WANT ME TO MAKE YOU A VAMPIRE SO YOU CAN FIND OUT?!"

"Oh do it! *HMK!* Vampirize m–*HEEK* me, Vladdy!" Ishmael twisted in his chair so he could make aggressive eye contact with Wallace, who felt his dead husk of a heart beating faster than it had any fucking right to. Even as his head jerked back over and over, exposing his delectable fucking neck like a slut, his eyes fell half lidded and his voice dropped low and smoky around his hiccups. "Make me im–*hmp* immortal so you ca–*UCK* can deal with m---me for th---the rest of your fu–*huk*–ucking life."

Wallace forced his body not to tremble.

He turned around and kept his back to the stupid fucking wine bottle. "Fine. I've lived for over two centuries. I can be patient. I can outlast any little mayfly like you."

"Don't lie to me, Wallace. *hmp*. You're not good at it."

A growl escaped Wallace's throat as he glared into the wall. "Your weak attempts to delay the inevitable are fading."

"Hmm. Yeah. Guess my hiccups are going away." Ishmael hummed.

Wallace knew what was coming. Wallace fucking knew what was coming. He knew he could do it, he'd seen Ishmael do it before. What Wallace should have done right now was turn around faster than the human eye could see and bury his fangs in that bendy straw's fucking neck so he could drain him into the husk he was meant to be, finally filling his belly with all of the brilliant red wine that he could drink.

...he kept facing away anyway.

"It'd be a real shame if I were to do something like..." Wallace's face burned as he heard Ishmael start swallowing air, the bobbing of his throat offensively audible as he did before belching shamelessly. And then he did it again. And again.

"I will kill you, you know," Wallace said. "Your artery is going to impale itself on my fangs."

"Yeah yeah," Ishmael's voice strained slightly around an audible gulp before he opened his mouth. "*SuuuuUUUUUUUUuuure* you will. *HRMK-mmmrp* I'm sure you d–*llk* don't have an–*glp*–ny other way *lgk* you rea–*lkt* to drinking from so–urk–gff...from somebody w-with—ulk—" The audible struggle in his throat made it almost unbearable for Wallace to keep facing away. "...with the hi–*IC–GUUUUUUUUUUUUPS!* *HIULK–UUUUUURRRR–CUP!*

"GOD DAMMIT!" Wallace wrenched around and before he could stop himself he had his fangs buried in Ishmael's neck. In his stupid fucking warm, delicious, bubbly, spasming neck, slurping hot blood in big clumsy gulps as it bounced out of him, desperately trying to control his body and avoid what he knew was fucking inevitable as he drank and drank and drank and drank and—"*HMLK!*"

Ishmael's neck shook around his teeth and beneath his lips for a completely different reason and Wallace felt like he was on fire under the fucking sun. "Oops. *uuuuuur–CUP!* Now look wh–*huk* what I've done. *mmmmrrr–GUP*–mmf. 'scuse me."

Wallace's diaphragm spasmed with renewed life and vigor as Ishmael's neck kept moving under his lips.

He hated that bendy straw so fucking much.

[bigblueoctoling]

Thoughts about Suffer No Fools/Deep Cut in general

I really dislike this whole 'shiver and frye mistreat Big Man' plotline they seem to be making with deep cut. Like, from the start they've set up that Shiver and Frye don't really appreciate Big Man, but outright having their own duo group without him just kind of feels needlessly petty. Like maybe I'm looking into this too hard, but it's also, literally the only thing one is capable of looking into with Deep Cut's canonical information. Like... Big Man is already working at a disadvantage of being a male idol who isn't humanoid, it feels kind of pointlessly cruel to pit him alone against Shiver and Frye. And it's not like Shiver or Frye are any better for it.

They keep focusing on this one trait, the fact that Shiver and Frye are very very hostile to non-splatlandians. I would love to actually enjoy Shiver and Frye being openly aggressive, that's unique for an idol's personality, but rather than feeling tough, they just feel pathetic, trying way way way too hard to look intimidating.

Again, this isn't necessarily the fault of any particular writing of Deep Cut, but rather the complete and utter lack of any meaningful lore about them.

The squid sisters are hard-carried in the personality department; they get the entirety of Splatoon 1, 2, and 3's story mode to show off their personalities.

Off the Hook started out less interesting than the Squid Sisters, since they had to rely on newscasts, but even before Octo Expansion, the fact that Marina was an Octarian was an obvious huge deal from the moment she was revealed, with the splatfests revealing the gravity of Marina's abilities. Of course, then Octo Expansion happened- Octo Expansion feels very directly like it was created for the express purpose of fleshing out Pearl and Marina to make up for them not being in the main story mode. And of course we have Side Order that just doubles down on developing them.

Deep Cut's inclusion in Splatoon 3's story is just like. The most obligatory presence possible. Somehow, despite having direct boss fights, they leave absolutely zero impact whatsoever- it doesn't help that they don't sing their boss music, but they're also just there for no reason to steal "Treasures"- completely nondescript objects of no apparent value whatsoever that have no particular meaning to Deep Cut. No elaboration is given as to why Deep Cut wants this treasure in particular- Alterna is fucking littered with human technology that's infinitely more valuable than a bunch of random metal scraps. There are giant 3D printers just sitting around. And their dialogue is just... complete nothing. As stock as possible, there's nothing to gleam about any of their relationships from anything. Like...

A small aside: The reason why Squid Sisters and Off the Hook are such interesting groups is because of their group dynamic. Callie and Marie have a very deep bond that gets tested and validated after their separation, and Pearl and Marina are just a perfect duo. I'm not even a big shipper type of person but their relationship is so wonderful to see. But what even is Deep Cut's relationship? They're friends? With the way Shiver and Frye treat Big Man it feels like their entire relationship is pure business, and it's honestly more depressing than anything else.

Anyways, getting back to Deep Cut in the story mode, they say one unique piece of information about them- that they do this to help people who are suffering.

This is a fantastic direction to take Deep Cut, and would make their hostility towards inkopolis feel much more cathartic and justified.

They literally never mention it again or elaborate on it any further. Why? What are they even referring to? Poverty? Octarian oppression? General social imbalance?

The lack of elaboration about why Shiver and Frye are so prideful and so hostile, and what sort of suffering they care about, really stands out to me in Suffer No Fools.

Suffer No Fools feels like Shiver and Frye just aimlessly attacking strangers they're completely out of their depth with. The only thing we know Shiver and Frye care about is helping the misfortunate.

With that being the case, Off The Hook are literally the last people on the entire planet you should want to start beef with, even if it's just play-fighting- and in realizing this, I've realized something else about Off The Hook and Deep Cut:

Off The Hook already fills Deep Cut's niche.

Like... Pearl and Marina are the perfect duo in terms of representing social progress. Marina obviously has a very personal reason to care about impoverished octarians- she was one of them, she fought to get to the surface. Pearl, on the other hand, is the perfect emblem of an inkling, extremely privileged due to being born into great generational wealth. However, after meeting Marina, Pearl decided to put her all into using her privilege to elevate Marina's voice as much as possible. And, in doing this, creating Off the Hook, they have had a very real, tangible impact on the acceptance of Octarians on the surface. And this isn't even touching on Octo Expansion- they go out of their way to save Eight, of course, but since then, Marina put her everything into figuring out a way to save the sanitized octarians stranded in Kamabo Co.

Meanwhile, Deep Cut's actual contributions are left entirely unelaborated and unspecified. No known efforts to figure out anything about the Mammalian octarians, literally not a word spared about them.

What the fuck do they have to be proud for? What have they ever done for anyone? All I see are some stuck up egomaniacs who have no respect for anyone who isn't an asset in getting them more money. It honestly feels less like Shiver and Frye are these charitable robin hood figures and more like that was a lie to cover their asses.

...And, of course, I expect this to change in the next Splatoon game. It would be unthinkable for Deep Cut to just have no relevance again after getting nothing in this game. This is a very pessimistic outlook on Deep Cut. But they've given me absolutely nothing to work with, it's difficult to think that characters are good people if you only ever show them being unjustifiably hostile and greedy.

It just sucks. Shiver and Frye are my favorite idol designs, but they're constantly made out to be so fucking lame, and not even in an "underdog group of failures that cares about eachother" sort of way because EVERY DEEP CUT THING HAS TO BE THEMED ABOUT HOW DEEP CUT HATES BIG MAN AND EVERYONE ELSE.

[justatalkingface]

WTF happened?!?

Alright, so for context? I took a break at... *checks bookmark* 395. And looking at that chapter really quick, I'm reminded why I stopped reading for all this time!.That's ten chapters behind, for the record, and from what I can tell from my occasional glances at the critical tag? Those ten chapters were... something.

Welp. I read them. And then experienced instant regret.

Let's start with the first big thing: Armor Might. Somehow, looking at Armored Might, my first thought isn't WTF, because I've seen the spoilers, but the way that mask frames his smile reminds me of Redestro? Like, what the hell, he actually looks villainous like this. Still, though, the way powers are supposed to be the students isn't just cringe beyond belief it's... actually really dumb?

Like, step back from the ham handed metaphor for a minute, and look at this as a set of powers that someone decided to put in one suit. Ignoring how they stuffed so much shit into a suit, which even for MHA tech breaks my SOD, much less how this is surviving hits that causally blast through buildings, but it's just... inefficient? Let's ignore such choices as 'talking to animals' and 'powered by sugar', which are clearly relics of a different manga and don't make sense to use at all, but just these powers as a package. Does it make sense to put something like, 'make acid' with super strength'? Or 'sound waves'? Etc, etc? Wouldn't you want things that synergize together, so the suit is... I don't know, sturdier, or more effective, rather than having to build in a bunch of random devices just to do a reference? That explains why half of them aren't even same powers, it's just pointlessly pasting the names on things built to counter literally this situation, a reverting AFO, even though they had no possible way to know it would happen. Like a Uravity 'thruster'. Which has fuck all to do with canceling gravity.

Seriously. Cellophane and Blackwhip are literally the same damn thing, as in, literally they're the same tentacles. He's 'using' 'different powers' to retract them. And the sugar power is a... rocket kick? I. Can we just admit this doesn't actually have the entire class in it and move on?

Also, the fact that AFO is apparently super predictable and apparently has never adjusted his tactics once since beating Nana? Bitch please. He's been leading you by the nose since day one, and the only reason you ever beat him is because you out-powered him because you're bullshit and he's nerfed.

As a side note, AFO isn't controlling his reversion. He's not 'choosing' to rewind faster to heal himself, it's just happening, and Eri's Quirk just doesn't give a shit about anything, the acid would just be gone. Eri's Quirk has literally never given a shit about anything, ever, including but not limited to it's target, the person using, or the laws of nature because it's not a healing Quirk, its reversing fucking time.

Honestly, reading this, I'm not even angry about how bad the writing is anymore, I'm just cringing. Both All Might and All For One sound like complete morons, the fight is stupid, it's just.... this is just pathetic and it hurts to read.

I. Is AFO the shining baby. I pretty sure a bunch of people made jokes about the baby coming up but. Is AFO the shining baby?

Why is Stain even here? Why is the suit talking?! Like, they didn't even do anything, it didn't even buy any time, it just dragged out the chapter so we could another cliffhanger!

...Finally. Finally, Momo gets a fucking gun. I guess at this point Hori thought it couldn't harm anything to let her actually be competent, and it looks like a copy of Bakugou's new gear because of course it is, but I don't care just let me have this.

What the fuck is even the point of AFO's mouth ripping open? Like, what is the in-setting reason his cheeks tore apart?

Bakugou: fucking dies.

Bakugou: gets his heart patched together with jeans and a prayer soap bubble.

Bakugou: is instantly jumping into high intensity combat.

Yeah, that makes sense.

Are we really bring back the 'wishing energy' bullshit? Are we bringing back wishing energy and Bakugou is using it?

And now we have Nighteye. Nighteye.

...

You know what? I'm angry again.

Holy fuck. I read the posts, but I didn't believe they were real. Bakugou restarted his own heart. Like. What even is his Quirk, at this point. Like, what is it actually supposed to be, Favoritism Sweat?

All Might, solemnly: Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

Me, vomiting:

God, I pity whoever eventually has to voice act that and say that line at all seriously.

And, to the surprise of absolutely no one except the people who actually thought Bakugou died and were angry about it, Bakugou gets his heart impaled and came out the other end with a power up.

Let me sum up my thoughts on that with one simple sentence: The Lion, The Witch, and The Plot Armor of This Bitch.

Here's my impression ten chapters later, after a month or two without reading: I... I did not miss this story.

[donnerpartyofone]

I think one of the main things that makes well-meaning conversations about dysfunction frustrating is that when you talk about your unfixable deficiencies/behaviors/ailments/etc and the other person says "It's OK" and "not a big deal", what they are really saying is "It's OK for me to know someone like you," not "It would be OK with me if I had to BE YOU."

An adjacent problem is when, with the intention of making you feel better, someone tells you that you are freaking out "over nothing" when you melt down over something seemingly minute--not realizing that when every single piece of minutiae falls apart in your hands, one after another, all day long, for days on end, it is completely normal, nay, inevitable, to eventually melt down. The little things matter when there are thousands and thousands of them and they never stop coming.

I think on some level the issue is that you just can't tell people about unfixable problems. It's like an act of cruelty to admit that you have an unfixable problem because it's considered negative to bring up anything that can't improve, it just makes everyone feel bad. When faced with your problem that will never get better and may get worse, even someone who loves you will tell you that it isn't really happening, or "all you have to do" is something you will never be able to do because of your problem, or you only have the problem because of your defeatist attitude or the fact that you are a "perfectionist" (?!?! excuse me HAVE WE MET BEFORE), or you just need to change all your personal standards and values so that you no longer care about the problem that is often the determining factor in the potential of every day of your life. Or "you're an amazing person" or some such platitude that is supposed to make you magically not experience the material effects of the problem. All of this behavior just proves that people who don't have unfixable problems find such things so cosmically horrific to imagine that it's just pointlessly mean to try to force them to acknowledge that some things and people are just fucked.

In the last year or so I did kind of an experiment with being radically honest with myself and others about my deficiencies and disabilities with the goal of trying to acclimate the people in my life to who I really am and what I am (and am not) capable of, and all it did was make them mad at me and/or force them to say patently ridiculous and irrational things that were beneath their intelligence. What I learned is that I really cannot blame people for not being able to accept the intractability of many parts of life. A lot of human life seems to be predicated on hypnotizing yourself into thinking that anything is possible and nothing is hopeless, and it's not nice or useful to fuck with someone's programming if that's what they're dependent on to keep getting through their days. My new experiment is not telling anyone about any of this stuff anymore; even now I'm saying more than I want to, but maybe this can be sort of a last hurrah before I clam up and stop ruining all my remaining relationships. Some day I'll get another therapist and they can hear all about it because I pay them to.

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Arc 27, Reflections

So, I was definitely expecting something a little different for this first round of fighting against Scion.

I think part of it is that I ended up kind of mixing up the Arc 25 and Arc 27 Cauldron meetings, just a little - people talked about 'The' Meeting At Cauldron, but there's two, and each time I saw it may have been about the one, but they each said, or implied the 'The'.

The biggest thing is I honestly wasn't expecting for a big quasi-organized effort to be tried at all. Given the running theme of Worm about Parahumans being unwilling to work together, the fact that they were able to organize this coherent, organized effort to try and fight Scion at all is kind of unexpected. Logical, for once. Understandable, very, but unexpected for the story.

I really got the vibe that like, every group or cluster of groups was trying their own thing and Eidolon is rushing in all his own so sure he's gonna be the one to do it.

My perspective on Eidolon is now significantly different from where I started - sort of hinted at it in earlier liveblog posts, and we'll see more of that change in a bit as the details are revealed to readers not thoroughly spoiled like me, but we'll save the full exploration of that for the retrospective when I'm done reading. (I intend to do a whole 'here's how my opinions of various characters changed from before reading Worm to after reading Worm. And also what didn't change' section of that retrospective).

Scion is almost... pointlessly OP, but that's rather the point, and also just more of a me thing. It's not that I really want every conflict to be resolved by who can conjure the bigger boom but like - Worm really does spend a lot of time on the fight scenes, for all that they are often almost irrelevant in actually resolving the major conflicts of the story. They're both really well written, but also like... do we really need them, in some ways?

I am probably going to be a bit exhausted by Scion's OPness by the time he's finally dead, but we'll have to see.

Knowing what I know, the 'run away and reduce down to village level without trying to fight Scion' approach seems honestly rather silly? Like, can humanity really run and repopulate fast enough to outrun Scion killing them? I really doubt it. And he's got to have all sorts of powers that will let him find where people are hiding, whatever Earth they go to. Once he's out of obvious targets, he's not gonna just stop, one assumes?

(Though really, fuck if anyone knows, because the idiot doesn't really have any purpose in killing either, he just... kills because Heroing wasn't making him feeling better, so let's try killing. Would he eventually realize that won't make him feel any better? How long would that take? For that matter, is there any way Scion could have felt better, ever? Or was him feeling better always going to be impossible? Inquiring minds want to know.)

(I joked over on an SB fic thread that maybe getting a pet would have helped Scion... after suggesting that a well spoken parrot would probably be as good at manipulating Scion as Jack Slash was, because Scion appears to be both incredibly easy and incredibly hard to manipulate. He also seems to have a fondness for listening to complete and utter fucking losers, since Norton was... well, Norton, and Jack is... well, Jack.)

That's all sort of off topic, but anyway...

The return of Sophia was... weird. Taylor is sort of over her, but there really is no narrative resolution to her here and there's no real narrative resolution to Emma. Which like... yes, fine that's realistic, but reality isn't a fucking story? Stories do actually have to follow certain general principles reality doesn't?

It's not so much that I think it's impossible to have a story that doesn't really resolve every detail, and a lack of narrative resolution for Emma/Sophia/Madison is, overall, fine, but like... I am baffled by the people who don't get why a lot of fanfic writers take the time to provide a resolution the canon doesn't.

Cauldron's just... absolutely terrible management of... everything continues to be both hilarious and sad. I just... this is not a group qualified to decide the fate of the world, guys? Granted, you never really can construct a group actually qualified, but the insistence that Doc Mama had on not bringing more people in is weird, and saying that it's out of fear of another Manton feels incredibly weak. She had over a decade of operation before Manton went rogue, why not anyone else?

(Also, How exactly did Mr. Numbers end up working for Cauldron? His interlude didn't really explain that).

But, in Cauldron's defense, they are trying and they are trying hard here. I have no real objections to what they're doing in the 'present day' of Arc 27, broadly speaking their strategies are the best they can do, beyond perhaps their slight overparanoia about drawing Scion's eye too early, I think that was too much concern, but that's a fairly minor quibble by this context.

[variousqueerthings]

Dear God! That’s the attack prayer!

OKAY A good man goes to war... I think "let's kill hitler" is enough of a departure to do these separately

sexism rank objectification (female character is ogled/harassed/turned into a sex joke by the doctor and/or a lead we’re supposed to root for and/or the camera): 6/10

sexism rank plot-point (lead female character is only there to serve plot, not to have her emotional interiority explored): 2/10

interesting complex or pointlessly complex (does the complexity serve the narrative or does it just serve to be confusing as a stand-in for smart, this includes visually): 3/10

furthers character and/or lore and/or plot development (broader question that ties into the previous ones, at least two of these, ideally three should be fulfilled): 5/10

companion matters (the companion doesn’t always have to be there, but if the companion is there, can they function without the doctor– and overall per season how often is the companion the focus or POV of the story): 3/10

the doctor is more than just “godlike” (examines the doctor’s flaws and limitations, doesn’t solve a plot by having it revolve entirely around the doctor’s existence): 4/10

doesn’t look down on previous doctor who (by erasing or mocking its importance, by redoing and “bettering” previous beloved plotpoints or characters, etc.): 6/10

isn’t trying to insert hamfisted sexiness (m*ffat famously talked a lot about how dw should be sexier multiple times, he sucks at writing it): 5/10

internal world has consistency (characters have backgrounds, feel rooted in a place with other people, generally feel like they have Lives): 4/10

Politics (how conservative is the story): 4/10

FULL RATING: 42/100 (if I can count….)

listen, this episode has this exchange:

Thin guy: Hello I’m the thin one. This is my husband, he’s the fat one Lorna: Don’t you have names? Fat guy: We’re the thin/fat gay married Anglican marines. Why would we need names as well?

and then one of them is killed immediately after this and the other isn't seen again I believe

so... my feelings about this episode can be encapsulated by that line, but certainly there is... more to pick out than just that

OBJECTIFICATION: shockingly that's not a big issue this episode. yes we're used to River Song being sexy in all of her outfits, and now we've added Jenny's very similar type of outfit, but Amy is mostly in sort of... linen-looking loose shirt and trousers, which, she'd better be she just gave birth. speaking of giving birth, still wearing those boots with heels

idk, this could be explained away as character, but it feels like it plays into a bit of Amy not being the important part of this episode so they're just saddling her with business as usual (so they took all her clothes away except her boots?) it just feels. a bit lazy

PLOT-POINT: speaking of being a plot point. Amy, in the episode about being kidnapped and having been secretly imprisoned while pregnant without knowing it and then waking up right as you were giving birth after months and months, and then being threatened with that baby being immediately taken from you (which does in fact happen)... is not the focal point

she's got an opening scene in which she speaks to her baby and is like "you're gonna get saved don't you worry, because your dad is a badass (I guesssssssssssss, we'll get back to Rory), and I too will be saved"

and then she stands around waiting to be saved, and there is One Bit where she's like "I was here all along and that was a bit fucked up" and the Doctor hugs her (with Rory's permission, because we love casual sexism) and is like, "the stuff on the Tardis was also real, I mean, your body was here and pregnant, but youknow, close enough" and that's about it for Amy's Stuff

I'd argue Rory meeting the baby is given more emotional weight/time, and that scene is good and important and he's crying and he and Amy are sweet, but where's her version of this moment?

we do have Amy losing the baby at the end and that's fucked up, and we get her demanding River to know what's going on, and then the episode ends before she reacts to that (maybe in the next one...)

but on the whole, she's just damseling and not even having much of an opinion on being a damsel, beyond going "yeah it'll be fine"

River comes in at the beginning and the end, at the beginning she's talking about the Doctor and at the end she's revealing who she is, and she's... happy. so that's an emotion. and she's finally getting to tell her parents that she's their daughter, and getting to tell the Doctor

so River gets more than Amy in this on the whole, and now she's no longer a mystery she can go on to be a character I imagine... wait and see...

COMPLEXITY: classic M*ffat. montages. characters youve never seen before who are very important now. characters you have seen before, but in episodes where it makes no sens for them to be here (Danny-boy? you're a WWII pilot, what?) (where did all those Silurians come from? Judoon? what a strange set of choices)

bunch of mythologies that were just made up on the spot, saying "well the Doctor is badass" instead of showing him doing much of anything, also that bit where he blew up a bunch of cybermen ships just cos? it looks cool I guess? why do things happen? to look cool

CHARACTERS/LORE/PLOT: siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh well what do we learn? we learn that Amy loves Rory and believes he's going to come and save her, so nothing new there

we learn that there's a bunch of mythologies about the Doctor being a "great Warrior" but also that the "doctor" comes from the Doctor's name, I suppose

we learn about the headless monks and the one-eyed lady, sort of. we learn they exist and are behind the abduction of Amy and later Melody

we learn that Amy and Rory had sex on the Tardis and so their kid is kind of Timelord????

and that River is that kid, but grown up

think that's about it

so lot of plot, some stupid lore, and a couple of character dynamic moments (Rory meeting the baby, River revealing she's Melody, although we don't see Amy and Rory reacting to that)

the Doctor has more of an emotional moment with Vastra, a character we've just met, than with Amy and Rory (Vastra also does more plot shit than Amy or Rory, see below)

COMPANIONS MATTER: Amy. Standing around.

Rory. The Last Centurion. Okay so I don't buy this. which is probably the problem. I really really enjoyed the Rory we were getting to know this season, who's defined by his caring nature, quite a sweet man with a strong sense of right and wrong that's based in his nursing, and then this episode they're like "but also he's Badass Action Man who says shit like "the twelfth cyber-legion monitors this entire quadrant"" and then right down to that tidbit about how he's got a sword but he'll allow the Doctor to hug Amy

and in all of that what does he actually do? not much of anything. in many ways he's standing around as much as Amy is, just in a Centurion outfit, because. Oh and he has a myth about him as well, I guess...

“GODLIKE” DOCTOR: “that you pricked the side of a mighty beast and entirely failed to run” siiigh

"Demons run when a good man goes to war…" siiiiiiiiigh

Pandorica

A dark legend

"Doctor, we get that word from you you know" SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH

listen the thing is, again, this episode is actually inevitably really about the Doctor all along, it's a mythology about the Doctor, and Amy is - like in s5 - bait and trap and red herring

all the reveals about River and the journey of why this matters is because the Doctor will rise higher than ever before and then fall so much further, or whatever, and I'm like... I think Amy feels worse actually... I think this is about her. it's not though

In theory I like the big about Colonel Runaway, I think that's very Neat, and I like

Evil Woman: The anger of a good man is not a problem. Good men have too many rules The Doctor: Good men don’t need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many

but it's framed around all the rest of the Schlock

the one upside is that in all of those annoying montages, the point is that the Doctor knows all these people who do stuff because the Doctor comes to call. it begs the question of whether the Doctor in this incarnation has friends or just people who owe him, like a mafia boss, but at least the Doctor isn't going it alone, like in the beginning of the episode with the exploding Cybermen ships (just... to send a message.... gasp, he is a Mob Boss!)

PREVIOUS DOCTOR WHO: it doesn't technically do anything with previous DW one way or another, but I do think it's dubious in terms of the ethos of previous Doctor Who... not the biggest Thing on this, but urgh, this episode is dumb. I hope the next will be better (I say about an episode I remember not liking)

“SEXINESS”: it's not actually overwhelming this episode, maybe because Amy isn't chatting with the Doctor, and River is barely there, although she does flirt with... Rory... a bit.... which is first when she doesn't see it's Rory, and then a joke about how two Doctors was "a whole other birthday" which is just a little weird when we know later on that Rory is her dad, but isn't about him at least

there's also River asking "if he's considered heels" which I cannot tell what the tone of that comment was meant to be about

Vastra and Jenny have a joke related to Vastra having a long tongue (get it, they're lesbians), and Vastra is the first woman equivalent to a Sherlock/Doctor type we've seen (that is, she's casually mean and withholding, because she's too busy being Brilliant to care about others' emotions -- I wonder if she's actually Sherlock Ho-)

INTERNAL WORLD: who are the headless monks? they're an order. who are the cleric marines? they're an order. what is demons run? it's a place. that's about what we know right?

POLITICS: it's not so much that the politics are bad as that the episode is a hot mess. there're these cleric monks (I believe a throughline from the ones we saw in s5 with the Angels), but their whole Thing isn't really explored so much as there, and there are the Headless Monks, again, cool but... just there... there could have been politics in that, but there isn't

which leaves us with the sexism (Amy's complete irrelevance in the episode about her abduction and semi-forced pregnancy), and the casual homophobic joke, which feels like it was meant to be a funny tongue-in-cheek meta point about representation, and at best it falls flat. at worst it's just homophobic (it is)

FULL RATING: 42/100 (if I can count….)

It just fails on the emotional level, that's what it is in the end. Nobody's actions are grounded in anything, they're just there to serve some seemingly cool set-pieces that ultimately prop up the Doctor as being cool

its highest ratings are "this was not the worst thing it did." I am not a fan of this episode

I didn't actually talk about how I feel about River being Amy's and Rory's kid..... that's a whole other post

[swanmay-that-got-away]

Some thoughts on Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser after finishing the first 3 volumes:

Before I go on, would I recommend FnGM: Yes but don't read every story. I have completionist brain when it comes to media, do not be like me, read the ones everyone recommends. A short list would be Ill Met in Lankhmar, Jewels in the Forest, Thieves' House, Bazaar of the Bizarre, Lean Times in Lankhmar, and Stardock. If I do a reread, it'll look a little like that.

FnGM makes a really bad first impression. The Snow Women, and frankly a lot of FnGM stories, are unusually misogynistic even for their time period. The Snow Women has parts I would generally recommend, but I can't, because they're enmeshed with the most intense hate wife bullshit that it shunts me out of the narrative constantly. This is a repeated problem in the stories, with not infrequent rape threats, treating women extremely badly, and just being generally fucking awful? I know FnGM are supposed to be bad people but this is literally everyone in every story all the time. If you're doing a FnGM read, I would recommend skipping The Snow Women, Claws from the Night, Their Mistress The Sea, and the last two books entirely. Those are the worst offenders.

Instead of that, you should start with Ill Met At Lankhmar, which is the first story in the collection order that is both well written and not pointlessly offensive. It's a banger! And it sets the stage for what's so good about FnGM anyhow: two shitty rogues who are a little too witty, fucking up despite their competence. When FnGM shines, this is usually what it's doing. I don't even recommend swinging back to read the first stories later, although the ski fight at the end of Snow Women IS pretty cool.

Leiber's prose is as good as people say it is. I think it's a lot like Moorcock's prose where it's a little annoying by default, until it's ON, and then it's some truly stellar prose that you will remember for a LONG time, and then you fall in love with the default prose too.

Swords Against Death is easily the best single volume of FnGM. It contains the most iconic FnGM stories and it really shows the duo doing their best schtick in the best way. For my money, Jewel in the Forest is my favorite story. That probably says something about me (that I'm really into weird, mindbending, abstract big reveals and care very little about swordplay).

People sleep on The Cloud of Hate. It rocks. It's helped by its short page count, it could've easily gone on past its worth. It doesn't, so the metaphor lasts JUST long enough to feel really cool. Absolutely no idea how you'd use it in a TTRPG, despite my reflex to do so.

Lean Times in Lankhmar feels like a Pratchett novel built for me. I don't really like Pratchett? It always feels like he's taking an extremely long time to say anything and then when he finally says what he wants to say, it's an anticlimax, and the joke doesn't land for me? Anyway, LTiL's pagecount is brief enough that it doesn't do that. If every Pratchett book was like this, I'd be a big Pratchett fan.

I genuinely can't get over Their Mistress The Sea. It's only 5 pages but it has the single most grotesque line in the first three books, which is to the effect of "maybe the witches are mad they weren't raped?" Between this and the pedophilic predilection of Mouser in the later stories, one wonders about Leiber. He says Fafhrd is based on him and Mouser is based on a friend and MAN that is an awful thing to say about someone. I also, disagree, from what i know of the man he was more like Mouser. So.

On the whole, a neat series. Deserves classic status. I need to say "do not read them all, do not read them in order" again, because you really really shouldnt do that. I think I narrowly prefer Elric? I think I'd prefer FnGM in the "Leiber respects women" timeline.

[gay-hoodie-boy]

f/o rankings by their level of silliness?

from least silly to absolute clown!

Not Very Silly-

they've still got a sense of humor, but they're either too smooth or too serious to act all that silly.

Jackie- quips and oneliners for the most part. Althought he did dress as a clown for a disguise in the movie, but I would classify that more as whimsy than silly.

Hobie- he was always that cool. He may be dorky in the "I'm so cool" sense, but he's not much of a goof.

X- far too cute and calm to be silly. Jokes sometimes go over his head, which retroactively increases his silliness levels.

Osfala- once again, far too calm. He has his slightly overconfident moments, but they're rare these days.

Tonbo- too much of a knight/househusband type to make brainspace for being silly, but he does tend to take things at face value which once again retroactively adds to his silliness.

Normal Silly-

they enjoy a good laugh, but won't go out of their way for a joke unless it's a special occasion.

Link- he would be in unintentional, but that's only a half truth. he's got a carefree childlike attitude and is aware he might look silly when doing some things.

Joe- food puns, the fucking dork /aff. other than that, his silliness is mainly displayed via moments of random affection.

Tauro- he either makes fishing puns, archaeology puns, or tells those intelligent jokes you don't understand unless you're a NERD.

Clark- you would think his main silliness source is his awkwardness, which is true, but he also very much can make someone laugh on purpose. he likes making people smile, and making them laugh is one way to do that.

Luke- he's pretty shameless about PDA in public, so his silliness factor is mainly in his energetic displays of affection. but he's also generally a fun-loving guy, and won't turn down a chance for a joke or two, and maybe even a bigger prank if the mood strikes him (see my fake reddit post)

Unintentionally Silly-

exactly what's on the tin. they're silly, but they don't do it on purpose.

Herlock- he's kind of on a border because while his investigation methods looked silly across the game, it was revealed that he messed up on purpose to help ryunosuke learn how to make his own deductions. even then, there was no reason for him to hang on the coatrack or talk about his personal experience eating soap.

Masa- he's just a dumbass. it's not his fault.

Pierce- he's also just a dumbass, but he's been put in an unfamiliar place and has no idea what the culture of said place is like.

Jamie- he gets intoxicated on tea. he's a self-proclaimed peacekeeper who almost definitely would say acab (we ignore beta Jamie). he walks as if he owns Metro City's China Town like he's not 5'9 wearing eyeshadow. wearing a jacket that makes him look bigger than he is like a long-haird cat. he's lucky that im into all that, but he's still absolutely ridiculous.

Rouxls- A man that speakse liketh this doth be far too sillieth for his own goode. While i do believe he's smart and has some semblance of class, so does he- to a detrimental degree. Possibly the silliest man on this list, and he doesn't even mean it.

Total Goof-

incredibly silly, mostly on purpose.

Itto- he has so much confidence but also loves fun so much that it all culminates into the adorable prankster that he is. he knows when he's done something that makes him look/sound silly, and he capitalizes on it.

Leon- yes his bad senses of direction and fashion make him silly, but he's also big on just generally acting like a goof. champion or not this man is silly!

Reyn- stupidity + constant jokes = perfect recipe for silly. one of his best features is how much he loves to smile, and make others smile. he's just a big rowdy sweetheart who wants everyone to have a good time, and that results in him being an affectionate and goofy jokester. i will never let go of "you can't have a rainbow without reyn, baby."

thank you for the ask i love pointlessly categorizing/ranking my f/o's JDBGJSDFS.

[pangtasias-atelier]

A Day In The Month (Ch.2)

I feel like this took awhile but techinically it's been about a month since I published the last chapter, F3/H just spammed us with seasonal banners which is why I feel so behind lol.

But also, I genuinely fucking hated the Kha/de/in banner! Like, the outfits really resemble nothing like anyone wears and it also just plays into gross fetishization!!! So fuck that. Also the male choices were dissapointing in terms of art and outfits lmao. But anyways, here is the next chapter.

Still not much in the way of big guys and other stuff cause I like want to go slowly cause it's more fun.

Warning: This is a fetish story!

"Damn this infernal heat," Grima picks and plucks at robes. Despite the loose, thin fabric allowing his body to properly breathe, the blazing heat from the sun bears down on him. His clothes are pelted with flicks of sand. The fabric of Grima's upper outfit predominantly blacks and purples exacerbates his issue of feeling overheated, the fell dragon trailing far behind the rest. His white pants are made of loose and breathable fabric. His purple top completely covers his upper body while still being loose to allow for heat to escape. And his black robe covers his body to protect him from the sand and heat. Fully covered up, his now chubby frame is completely obstructed by the layering of clothes, especially Grima's pudgy thighs, his legs not yet wide enough to rub against each other and chafe.

Grima having definitely gained a few pounds from the mishap during the new year’s, it’s not like he can recognize his weight as the effect from such an event, his weight seemingly something he’s always had to deal with upon obtaining this vessel.

He scans the landscape of Khadein. And he is met with nothing but sand besides the ever distant buildings that feel insufferably far away. Especially with the heat and the sand that keeps hitting him.

"Would you fly somewhere else, you gnat!" Snarling, Grima pulls his hands out of his robes. He kicks up sand as he storms forward. Though he nearly chokes from another gust of sand getting into his open mouth.

"You chose to walk behind me," Tibarn picks up his pace. He also flies slightly higher, just high enough to be out of Grima's furious reach. Tibarn wears a similar outfit to Grima's, the two dressed in the usual fashion typical of Khadein. Tibarn forgoes a robe so as to not obstruct his wings. For once, Tibarn's entire body is covered up. His powerful chest is protected from the sand and sun. The same is true for his torso. Though instead of defined washboard abs, Tibarn now sports a bit of extra heft. The soft pinchable pudge is noticeable — but only slightly so with Tibarn only having gained around a couple dozen pounds since the New Year. 

The two bicker back and forth, pointlessly arguing as the desert heat gets to them, a flush on both Tibarn and Grima's cheeks.

"Please, ignore the two of them. They're not usually like this," Seteth immediately goes to placate the group's irritable guide. Seteth glances back at the bickering duo. "Well, Tibarn usually isn't. The heat is simply getting to them,"

Arlen, the group's guide, scoffs. He glares at them before rolling his eyes and facing forward again. "Doesn't matter what I think, master Gotoh instructed me to guide you," Arlen adjusts the clasp to his robe. "As long as they keep walking, then everything is fine," Arlen's outfit is much more intricate in its design than the others, patterns adorning the edges of his shirt. However, like the others Arlen has an extra bit of flab, albeit the bare minimum of a few extra pounds that barely amount to an easily concealable small sliver of pudge on his stomach. 

Arlen leading the group of three, the light fabric of his outfit allows him to traverse through the desert with minimal obstruction. He offers insight on the history and rise of Khadein and its culture as a melting pot where scholars and mages throughout Archanea and even Valentia flock to. He answers whatever question is asked of him with his head held high and without pause, though with some purposeful omissions such as leaving out the tiny detail of how he involved Khadein in a war. But nonetheless, Arlen takes clear pride in his knowledge, glad to be a spout of intelligence for such clear outsiders. Until Seteth eventually asks the inevitable question concerning this year's particular cultural exchange.

"So why is it that the others have,,," Seteth's brows furrow, pausing over his words. "more revealing outfits," Thinking back on his first meeting with those claiming to represent Khadein and their attire, Seteth had immediately mentally denied partaking in such a festival — at least until more well dressed individuals appeared. 

Arlen's cloak is bunched around him, the cool linen clumped into his fists as he crosses his arms; he keeps the same hurried and impatient pace. His head turned, his already narrow, piercing eyes glare at the encroaching buildings in the distance. 

“Well, do you not think that such a topic merits discussion?” Seteth picks up his own pace to match Arlen’s. 

Arlen grumbles. His hands still concealed under his cloak, his hands clutch the spine of his thoron. The hum of electricity dances on his fingertips, the minor jolts nothing more than a light graze when used to casting such advanced magic constantly. Arlen continues to walk without muttering anything intelligible; he instead fiddles with his tome wishing to solve this in a much quicker, more violent way. At least until the words of his mentor seem to ring in his mind, Wendell’s calm yet harsh teachings on patience and compassion seem important when dealing with White Sage Gotoh’s guests. After letting out one final sigh, he takes a quick glance at the still bickering duo behind them that refuse to quite match their pace; the two are not far enough to get lost but far enough to at least not be within earshot — Arlen not aware of Tibarn’s heightened senses as a laguz — so Arlen elects to dignify Seteth’s question.

“Tourist trap,” Arlen sputters out. He looks away.

“What?” Is all Seteth can say in response, a single half-huff half-chuckle escaping his chest at the bizarre statement. And with Arlen not even sparing so much as a single glance even. 

“Please, I hardly doubt-” Seteth begins to reason with Arlen, to point out the incredulousness of his answer as if the stubborn mage could be anything resembling prankful. 

“Well, it's true okay!” Arlen finally turns to face Seteth. Seteth of average height, Arlen is only a couple inches shorter than him. “We’ve been in two wars now and instead of thinking of anything resembling better, everyone else decided on whatever those costumes are! Why would anyone wear such ridiculous outfits in the desert of all places? But no, no one questions that, not the idiotic nobles from Archanea or the wealthy merchants from Valentia. Instead they love it! They all want such nonsense from us and they buy it. So let’s just sell whatever the point of those outfits are to use to repair and refund us rather than anything far more practical when we’re a country of magic and knowledge. Those travesties of outfits represent nothing about us, they’re nothing more than idiotic objectifications and stereotypes about our culture,” 

Seteth stares wide-eyed at the clearly frustrated and dead serious mage. 

“There. Happy about your question?” Arlen glances at the buildings, the group’s destination feeling far too distant after his outburst. His fingers feel the rough leather binding his tome as he drags his fingers across the cover; without needing to pull his tome out or even open the pages, fluidly draws his arms out from under his cloak and points them towards the sky. In an instant, the sky darkens. Bundles of electricity charging and pulsing from Arlen’s palm, his entire face is menacingly stoic even as the thunder booms. The ray of electricity quickly shoots off into the distance, hitting nothing with it aimed at no one.

“The rest of your group is waiting where I pointed at,” Arlen composes himself and his attire. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have something productive to do unlike the rest of these people,” As soon as he straightens out his tunic and cloak, he walks off without another word or even to wait for gratitude regarding his help. 

Inside said building, the trio that are currently enjoying the accommodating luxury in the waiting room. Unfortunately the peace is temporarily destroyed by the rush of static from the spell cast above the building. Well, only for two of the three, Freyr remains perfectly calm while he continues to read the books offered in the waiting room. Unlike Freyr, Corrin stands up from the comfortable plush seating, his draconic tail alert; his robes are a bit ill fitting on him from having been altered to accommodate the extra appendage. His ears twitch while he stares at the ice in the center room. Staring at the frozen liquid, he cowers and shields himself upon the instant it cracks and ruptures. Thankfully for Corrin, the ice simply dissipates back into its original state of boundless magical energy in the air — the ice another magic spell home to Archanea.

The blizzard spell disturbed from the powerful thoron spell, Kiran lets out a whine. Khadein’s oppressive heat is always a major issue for anyone not used to the harsh desert environment and the heat feels extra cruel to Kiran’s portly figure. His fat figure, when coupled with his tall stature, makes Kiran’s weight seem much larger than it actually is. Though when the Order’s summoner is fat enough to have a sizable paunch that distends past his wide waistline, Kiran’s height is far from the only thing that makes Kiran big. His tunic is taut against his gut, the thin, white linen fabric revealing his porcine belly. Kiran’s cloak is shrugged off, the fabric pooling around his seated figure. Kiran’s wide thighs are fully extended out in front of him, the loose pants still betraying the width of his legs from the amount of fabric needed to create pants to fit Kiran. Kiran uses the palm of his hands to support him as he leans back.

“It is too hot to be dealing with all this,” Kiran leans his head back, staring at the room’s ceiling. With a groan, Kiran pushes himself up. Still seated, he once again grabs the blizzard tome offered to him and recites the incantation. The very air tightening and compressing, Kiran lets out a great, big sigh of relief, his own breath even visible. The energy in the room seems to snap and pierce at the skin — albeit gently — as jutting shards of ice form along the ground. The room is now much more comfortable, so Kiran returns to his previously seated position. Unfortunately for the summoner, the cooling, soothing temperature does nothing to alleviate the bit of pressure he feels. His head feels slightly dull, the aching pain is strongest on the sides of his head. At the very least, the numbing pain can be mostly ignored during better moods. Kiran also feels the same sensation in his wide lower back, right above his tailbone. Though having seemingly grown up with these feelings, Kiran thinks nothing of them. Instead, the heat feels worse. That and the waiting.

Attended directly by the White Sage Gotoh, Kiran and the rest of his entourage had been guided away from the rest of those partaking in the cultural exchange. Though to Gotoh, he viewed the group more so as Duma and others, the sage wishing to speak directly with him. Kiran offered a ride on a wyvern to accommodate for his size, the strong mount only had enough capacity to carry two others. And Corrin and Freyr had won from drawing lots. 

“You should prepare yourself, someone is coming,” Freyr says without looking up from his book. He turns the page, remaining squarely seated in his spot. Corrin goes to stand up but is promptly stopped by Freyr. “Not us. They are here only for Kiran,”

Kiran immediately does as Freyr says, rather sluggishly however, the heat slowly getting to him from the light movement. Putting back on his cloak, Kiran refuses to wrap it around his entire figure — even as his gut pools out in front of his fat, doughy figure. Kiran absentmindedly rubs at the upper side of his head, the numbing pain temporarily going away for the most part. At the very least, Kiran stands up at his full towering height.

“What about you two?” Kiran asks.

“We will meet back up later in the day, during the banquet.” Having finished his book, Freyr closes it and goes to grab another. “Along with the others. They should arrive here shortly after you leave. And they seem ready to argue over the results of our bet,” Freyr smirks.

“Did you cheat?” Corrin asks as he leans against the side of his seat, clearly bored from the prolonged wait.

“No, but regardless of what I say, no one will believe me. Ah, here comes your guide now,” 

Kiran turns to face the newcomer. He is met with a familiar mop of ruby red hair.

“Heyo! I bet you all must be shocked to see me here.” Xane greeting everyone, his attention is focused solely on Kiran. The short little fella has to crane his neck to properly look at the summoner, Kiran standing an extra two feet taller than Xane and then some more. “I’d rather not kill my back so let’s make this quick,” Ever so cheerful, he twirls around with his staff pointed out in front of him. Marching back where he just entered, Xane only takes a brief glance back to make sure that Kiran is following him. The two head back out into the desert, a fact that Kiran makes sure to voice his disapproval of with his grumbling and fussing with his clothes. 

“Oh come on, it’s not as if you’ll melt or anything. I swear you humans act so fragile at the slightest inconvenience,” Xane still wears his outfit from last year during Hatari’s festival.

“Yeah, well it’s not exactly fun being in the blazing heat even with clothes to deal with it. Anyways, didn’t you tell me to make this quick?” Kiran pulls at the fabric of his tunic, the fabric getting a bit too clingy to his doughy chest. Kiran walks side by side with Xane the two keep their pace to that of a leisurely stroll despite all of Xane’s insistences of hurrying up a while back. 

“Nah, I just hate being around that goat,” Xane pauses to snicker before continuing on. “Feel like he can see and know everything about me just by looking at me, hate it. A guy like me has to keep some secrets, right? How else can I pull off the handsome, mysterious look?”

“You mean the fact that you’re a dragon?” Kiran looks at Xane in befuddlement.

“Tch, that? That secret’s out of the bag. Kinda hard to keep that to myself when you seem to have an affinity to us beings. And with Gotoh and Naga here to keep me busy…” 

“So this is all about your past then? Do you know how many heroes refuse to talk about their past or basically disappear whenever not fighting. Because it can’t be about how you can shapeshift since you refuse to use it in Askr,”

“Well how many people can claim to be as handsome and cute as I am? If you ask me, I have the perfect blend,” Xane cheerfully points to himself, the energetic bard always refusing to offer any sort of insight.

Kiran rolls his eyes in response. Though he does have a slight grin on his portly face. 

Xane pats Kiran’s gut, the taut tunic rising ever so slightly on his belly. “See, now that’s much better than talking about stuff you already know; you’re not dumb enough to not put two and two together as to why Gotoh called Duma over earlier,” 

As Kiran smiles, he suddenly notices the two having already arrived at their destination.

Two people awaiting their arrival, the two individuals are not their host. Instead, it is more heroes partaking in the cultural event. 

Like the majority of the order, Shannan and Hawkeye wear the more revealing outfits. Though on Hawkeye, his new change of clothes actually cover up more than his usual attire. While still technically wearing clothes, the outfit is more akin to draped bits of fabric barely reminiscent of the idea of modesty. The thin, sheer fabric hugs and accentuates his build. His broad pecs seem to strain the delicate fabric that drapes across it, even with the fabric being two strands tied together to fit around Hawkeye’s wide upper body. The same is true for his tanned biceps, the fabric going taut with simple gestures. His small potbelly is completely uncovered unlike his thighs, his strong yet soft wide abdomen visible for all. Meanwhile, his thighs seem confined underneath the tight shorts.

Shannan in nearly the exact same attire, he has a much more lean build than Hawkeye’s broad, powerful body. Still muscular, Shannan’s abs are faded from the bit of pudge he has, a small curve marking the very onset of a tummy. Which is made more prominent from the tight fabric wrapped around his abdomen. The rest of Shannan’s clothes fit much more modestly and loosely besides the sash of fabric that reaches across his pecs, the material draped to be in between his chest.

“These two are with me. Just had to leave them waiting while I did Gotoh’s errands. Have fun! I know I will,” Xane quickly waves goodbye, Shannan and Hawkeye awkwardly taken away by the surprisingly forceful Xane.

Kiran takes a long look at the building in front of him and sighs. The structure is far from imposing, in fact, the structure looks rather unassuming with it resembling nearly all the others in the vicinity. Not given a single instruction, Kiran stands at the entrance. His hand hesitates several different times, unsure of whether to knock or to simply let himself in. He takes a few deep breaths and straightens his back out — after deliberating long enough — and makes his decision.

“So I take it that your decision to stay is final?” Gotoh faces Duma as they talk. Now that their conversation is finally coming to a close, the two have gotten up out of their seats.

“I have not committed to anything. I held respect for you but it seems it had been misplaced,” Duma’s usually stoic demeanor is harsher than usual, a deep frown plastered on his face from the question.

“Oh come now Duma, you have even taken to teaching the Askran’s self defense. Even the summoner has learned to better defend themselves. You and I both know that your people no longer need you,”

“I’ve taught them well,” Gotoh’s compliment placates him somewhat. “Whatever my actions end up being will be based on how pathetic these humans are. I will show them true strength. The summoner choosing to remain in Askr is merely an extra boon to my decision of staying in Askr,” Duma chooses to end the conversation. Not quite storming off, he does take long strides. His usual outfit flows behind him, Duma refusing to partake in wearing any sort of different attire. 

“You have become more open to discussion from your time here, I must admit. But I concede,” Gotoh follows Duma out, the two heading into the foyer. Kiran waits for them, having accidentally overheard the conversation. 

But the two completely ignore him, the room seemingly empty besides the lavish furniture. 

Kiran waves and calls for them but is ignored, the summoner somehow invisible and inaudible to them.

“Something must have happened to the summoner,” Duma crosses his arms. He stares at the door as if Kiran will enter any moment now, completely unaware of his presence. “He’s most likely fine, but I will go find him,”

“No need, he should still be with Xane,” Gotoh ignores the now irritated Duma who acts more like a mother hen than a dragon of war, Duma muttering about things that Kiran chooses to ignore. Gotoh faces Kiran directly with a smile. “He will meet us at the banquet just like Xane instructed,” And with his hint, Gotoh leads Duma outside while receiving threats about being sure of the summoner’s safety. 

Kiran trailing behind them, he covers his eyes upon opening the door. The harsh light of Gotoh’s warp magic shining brightly in front of him, he stands back for a few moments. Kiran waits for nearly an entire couple of minutes before opening his eyes. The whole area in front of him is devoid of anyone else. Just then, Kiran recoils from a shock in his stomach. Reaching down at his gut, Kiran finds a talisman in his hand. The silvery bauble is cracked, the magic stored inside it now clearly worn off.

Kiran pulls his clothes tighter around himself. His boots stomp on the sand that stretches for miles upon miles in front of him. His thighs rub up against each other as he makes his way all alone, and being all alone, he remains silent, nothing to talk to besides the scorching sun that bears down on him and all of creation in the desert. The specks of sand feel like splashes of dust for a moment before the wind begins to pick up, the bits of sand turn into torrents of sand that pelting and smattering his outfit. Thankfully, his hood covers nearly all of his face, the fabric comfortably pulled around him. Kiran’s face is flushed, not from the sand, the debris is far from Kiran’s concern. Duma’s words are the cause of Kiran’s flushed state. Always aware that someday this will all end, the inevitably of such a future had been blanketed by comfort with it so comfortingly far away. He had chosen to ignore what would become of the Order, of what would become of certain heroes. And while he knew some would ultimately stay — at least he hopes he knows for sure — Duma’s unique nature made posing questions of anything regarding commitment rather difficult. But now knowing, the thought-

“Look up where you are going,”

Kiran’s head jolts upward. Eyes wide, his arms are raised. He lowers them a bit as he takes in his surroundings.

Already at the banquet, Kiran stands a good dozen feet outside the building hosting such an event. And in front of him is Duma.

“Are you going to speak or continue gaping like an uncouth child?” Duma’s eyes are narrowed, yet the edges of his eyes are upturned, his sharp fangs not barred in a foul snarl like they did once long ago.

“Sorry for making you wait. Let’s head to the banquet,” Kiran smiles, his eyes crinkling from the deep smile. Kiran reaches for Duma’s hand. He leads the way, holding Duma’s hand tightly just as Duma does his. “Thank you for meeting me out here,” Kiran smiles as Duma’s typical response of nothing but a grumble. 

“Why are you rushing?”

Kiran slows down his speed in response, only keeping a moderate pace so as to not hurry Duma. “I’m just excited. Seeing other cultures is always a treat,”

“There is no culture here, just humans going too far. Gharnef’s manipulation of dragons is not the first time such vile things have happened here,” Duma adds nothing else.

“Hmm, well, we aren’t that far away from Thabes, I think? If you want, you could destroy this place too,” Kiran pats Duma’s arms, standing a bit closer than.

“Silence, you simply care to indulge yourself,” Duma does however reciprocate Kiran’s smile, Duma oh so wishing to see the look on Gotoh’s face if he were to do such a thing. 

Already inside the banquet hall, the entire place is lively with several heroes from the order. 

Xane seemingly smack dab in the middle of the grandiose room, he happily waves at Kiran before seeing Duma. he scurries off to the corner, back to Shannan and Hawkeye. Sitting at the same table is Lord Pent and Lady Louise, the two of them not wearing the tourist garbs like the others. Only a few tables away from them is Ephraim and Lyon, the purple haired royal doing his best to take care of his slightly inebriated partner. 

Kiran turns around as Duma leads the way to a corner of the room. The table is already full, only two empty seats remaining. One is clearly Duma’s with the selection of food on the plate on the table, a well balanced variety of food with only a slight preference towards meat. The other table is oriented to be more in the center. Despite having just arrived, Kiran’s spot already has a plate of food waiting for him. Several actually. One plate has food he would usually eat while the other couple of plates has smaller servings of things the others like, all of them pushing some food onto Kiran to try out.

“Am I indulging myself, or are you indulging me?”

“You tell me,” Duma responds without meaningfully saying anything. He grabs Kiran’s belly, smiling at him.

Kiran’s attention shifts to the sprawled out Grima on the table. Still in his seat, the fell dragon grumbles and seems to be a mess. He has an empty glass of wine in his hand. He hiccups sporadically in between his incoherent muttering. The only thing he can properly say is a slurred thank you when Tibarn serves him more wine, the hawk king wrapping an arm around Grima’s shoulder afterwards. Corrin has the misfortune of sitting directly next to them. He slowly takes sips of his wine, Tibarn constantly serving him more regardless of how full his glass is. Seteth and Freyr talking to themselves, they enjoy themselves from the boredom of using such revealing clothes as tourist attractions, the gaudy outfits like nothing else in Khadein, the two of their wine glasses are half empty.

Duma scoffs at the sight. 

Kiran smiles at it instead. His expression turns towards Duma. 

“What is it?” Duma raises a skeptical brow at Kiran’s enjoyment, the sight laughable to him instead.

Kiran squeezes Duma’s hand. “Thank you. I am so blessed to have met you,” Holding duma’s hand tightly, the two join the rest of the group.

Duma blames the flush to his face on the wine, his glass completely untouched.

[vanvelding]

"If there is no money on earth in the 25th century, how does the class system work?"

It's not that there's no money; it's that very few humans don't accumulate things pointlessly. Folks are more interested in making sure their neighbor had a 'first helping' before they get a 'second helping' for themselves.

Writers often have the same questions as you, like being unable to understand how we'd compete for resources--bigger houses--whenever humans aren't competing for resources at all anymore.

We currently--in the 21st Century--have enough resources for all of our people and we can all live sustainably. We don't because of decisions we've made, because warlords, and politicians, and wealthy fucks believe they deserve more and others deserve less. Because average folks in some part of the world want more things that they won't use at low prices.

Why does Picard run Chateau Picard? Because he runs it well and makes wine people like. Why does Joseph Sisko run a restaurant in the French Quarter of New Orleans? Because he makes good meals and an ambiance that people enjoy.

Maybe. The exact mechanics aren't known. And they're likely flawed. But they don't have tent cities of dispossessed living under bridges, and--until Raffi Muskier--they didn't have drug abusers and the mentally ill living on the fringes of society. The venerated people of Star Trek's Federation are scientists and Starfleet officers, not billionaires and celebrities.

Not to turn this into an essay (it is), but there's not even a reason for Starfleet. Probes could collect most of the data on stellar phenomenon and charting. Modest transport ships could perform their diplomatic functions. Lean military vessels which didn't exist until the Defiant could patrol The Federation's borders against...boy, just Klingons now I guess.

Starfleet captains violating policy and going rogue is a feature, actually. Not a bug. The alternative is a Starfleet admiral on a starbase with a big button that says "Starfleet" and a just massive hard-on. People do things because they want to.

Who makes wine when you can replicate it? Who needs to report the news whenever a computer can summarize data? The labor market of the future is voluntary and based on passion and quality. You can call it a meritocracy, but meritocracy is a flawed word since it implies those who assign merit are, themselves possessed of the merit of being able to assign merit.

And hey, The Federation is another flawed system which works because people in the future learn to do good. Any system from libertarianism to communism works if the people who live it are good. And every system fails if the people within it are ready to burn it to the ground for a sliver of power over one another.

The culture of Humanity in Starfleet is good. Not as a series of rote actions where "Were Starfleet; we're good guys," but because they understand evil and selfishness, but have decided to reject it as a general rule. This is why Sisko can get his hands dirty. This is why Deanna has to order Geordi into a deadly jeffries tube to save the ship. This is why Shaw wanted Seven of Nine to blow the turbolift and kill him in Picard. It's why Sisko thought his own father was a Changeling. And why he realized he wasn't.

"How do people fight over resources in the future?" My brother in christ, why would they?

[teal-sharky]

Hey, honest, if admittedly stoned ass question

Remember all that research and general balking with, you know, birds, where we observe and even quantify how likely they are to incubate non-egg facsimiles of eggs, or just spontaneously decide to incubate a rock or some shit, especially if they can't get laid or happen to be gay or whatever the hell?

Do we know for a fact that we've TRICKED the birds, or is it possible they just... essentially accepted the eggs, knowingly, as essentially, a doll? A little egg action figure? A big, comfortably smooth and gleaming baby animal shaped pillow for them to put their ass on?

Do the gay penguins "incubating" a rock get stuck in a behavior loop that just urges them to do with no coherent understanding of the consequence of either a real or a fake egg, without the depth of understanding necessary for making the distinction, or do they just do it for fucking kicks? Aware that they're just tricking that primordial instinct, even if completely "pointlessly", simply because it feels good?

Could they just literally view the eggs as a sex toy or just a blahaj to snuggle to and feel more comfortable?

Idk why this question bothers me but it does.

[sciralta]

Sometimes I theorize that a big motive for PB pointlessly genderlocking certain books is because they're too coward to make sexy revealing outfits for m!MCs. Like, forgive me if I sound like I'm reachng here, but I think it's pretty damn telling that of all the books where MC can wear lingerie/sexy underwear, only 3 of them are GOC while there are about 10+ that are GL.

Then again, I'm not sure I can trust PB to actually make good-looking underwear for m!MCs (or m!LIs for that matter). Look at the shit that AME m!MC, TPA m!MC, m!Sam, OH m!MC, m!Reagan, and the male TRR LIs got for "sexy underwear"– and, heck, even the default underwears that most m!MCs and m!LIs get– and tell me PB isn't just lazy as all fuck when designing for male/masc characters.

I mean… it’s a very funny tinfoil hat theory that’s obviously not the reason but it’s real fun to act like it could be.

My thing is: I genuinely do not know whether the reason the male fashion—in particular the sexy fashion—is lame as is because PB are lazy and just phone it in, or because they genuinely just have bad taste and don’t know what’s sexy. I mean, it’s probably both, but the fact that we haven’t seen a single speedo or sexy jockstrap outfit just proves to me that we have people who have no idea what they’re doing in charge of this.

What I’m saying is that they need to hire a gay to oversee the men’s clothing, stat, and if there already is a gay overseeing than they need to hire one who’s actually cool with taste. Like, Jesus Christ, get the opinion of someone who’s been to a leather bar or seen gogo boys at least once in their life. We can’t keep living like this.

[ravenousnightwind]

One big thing is that what I just did was something I was never able to truly do in the past and be proud of it. Just to scared of being attacked or filling that out. I want people to understand me. That's why I do what I do. But I also get why people don't care, I only don't care when a person shows they're not interested in what I have to say. At that point. I fuck off. Cuz neither of us need it. It becomes useless then by delving further into pointless arguing.

At the same time, because I want people to understand, I'll deal with off hand comments because I believe in transparency and sometimes it can be misunderstood because of the way I say things. But like I said, not everyone wants to listen. Sometimes they're to caught up in their own internal or even external problems to care what I'm saying. It doesn't make them bad, it just makes them people.

I'm a person to though, so I have to stand up for myself. But normally I just fuck off anyway without even responding because I don't think it's worth it. I thought maybe because they were queer, or so i assumed they'd try to get what i was saying. But they didn't. They just wanted to pointlessly argue about my own thoughts and intentions and I'm just not about that.

[29pageshomestuckeveryday]

Homestuck, page 1,358

[S] ACT 4 ==>

walkthrough: http://readmspa.org/transcripts/readmspa-transcript-6_003258_John_explores_LOWAS_with_help_from_Nannasprite_transcript_and_walkthrough.html

Song used: Doctor by Buzinkai

song commentary:

Clark Powell:

Doctor was originally by Buzinkai and then a now non-active member Michael Vallejo added a few bits of percussion to it. I then put together a larger mix of the tune with shinier production and a glockenspiel tag, and this was the version Andrew used in the end.

Buzinkai:

Doctor was written before Homestuck, actually. The only thing I can really remember was that Super Smash Bros Brawl came out right before I finished it. The original loop (which is not the one specifically heard in the comic, but was included in the album release) was directly inspired by music from Cave Story, and I was trying to at the time musically embody how I felt at the time, I think. Though it never seems to come out exactly as I plan it, I enjoyed the results. I will say that I cannot truly believe how many people have remixed it.

The arpeggio part at the end goes between the left, both, and right speakers sequentially. I was too lazy to set the channel settings manually, so I did each note on a different instrument, which is set to each speaker channel. Not many people know that, and I think it actually made it a living hell for remixers who got a hold of the original file.

Author commentary:

Welcome to Book 3, which obviously starts with Act 4, which obviously starts with Gate 1. I mean…obviously? Glad that's obvious to everyone. What's also PAINFULLY obvious to anyone looking at this page, no matter who they are, is that this [used to be] a loading screen. Hot Flash Content is being piped directly into your [browser], right now, at the speed of bullshit. We're off to a great start here in the author notes section. Hey remember Flash loading screens? Those were the days. You needed SOMETHING to look at while untold KILOBYTES were crawling through your ethernet cables. In this case, I chose to dazzle you with a hypnotically morphing spirograph. You quickly went into a trance of fascination. The suspense built. Cue the music. and then…….magic.

>1: Okay, no magic here. No music or movement, because it's [not Flash]! All you get is my goofs. Sorry, sucker. Let's talk about this animation. It's pretty damn enchanting, really. We finally get to see what's under those gray clouds. It's a bunch of fireflies, and a blue landscape with phosphorescent flora and black oily rivers. Act 4 marks the official beginning of the scenery porn era of Homestuck.

>2: Or "LOWAS," as becomes the model for further nomenclature in reference to Homestuck's lands. These "lands," of course, are fairly small planets. Hard to say how big exactly. I don't think I ever really did any due diligence on the cosmological scale of these bodies. They're big enough to explore and get lost in but not so huge as to be hopelessly unchartable. I guess I always pictured them being like a small state in the US. Like if Rhode Island or Connecticut were wrapped around a sphere. Literally doing so would make for a fairly lackluster land, suitable for a pretty bland player of Sburb. (I suppose such as…every resident of those particular states? Why…why am I alienating these people already? It's only the fourth page. Oh well, forty-eight states to go, I guess.)

>3: OKAY LET'S CUT THE SHIT AND TALK ABOUT THIS FLASH! It's a playable game. That turned out to be a thing in HS. As a Flash loaded, readers would wonder…is this going to be a GAME? (Virtually always: no. But sometimes…sometimes, yes!) This one is similar in style to the game when John first enters the Medium and can wander around his house, but this time there's ACTUAL battle mechanics.. You can bonk imps with a hammer, collect grist and items—all rather pointlessly, I should add. But you can do it, is the point. Why? I really couldn't fucking tell you, to this day. I think I was legitimately insane? This, with perfectly brutal honesty, I must admit now strikes me as something a crazy person would do.

>4: I suppose the upshot of the game format is that it lets the player wander around this fantastical new land and discover its mysteries just like John is doing. Actually, YOU don't get to. You get to [click] through this [set of images] with your grubby fingers while I struggle through a borderline state of dementia, heroically trying to remember what I was thinking when I made this. But some people sure did get to do that. Anyway, this is what happens when you click that icon in the upper right. John gets to talk to Nanna, like…there's some sort of comm system back to his sprite? Sprites technically can't go far from the house after their player enters the Medium. That's the strict rule of Sburb. Until much, much later, when it stops being all that strict, for reasons that are unlikely ever to be explained, even by the WISEST of sprites.

>7: Here's a little taste of the gameplay. You click on a thing and a menu pops up, which includes what is…technically a text command that is being entered by…the player of Homestuck? (Who has at this point been revealed to be any given exile, operating the post-apocalypse Sburb station.) It's pretty esoteric. But you don't need to think about any of this to play the game, get a sense of John's rad land, meet some scurrilous foes in need of a bashing, and feel like a cool hero.

>18: The ghost gauntlets holding that ridiculous paisley hammer are just a fixture of the environment in this game. I didn't want them to be an item you could use, because that would have been complicated to implement. It was a little attention to detail on my part, by which I mean my inclination to consider how John could wield this huge hammer in his inventory. Specific items that are accrued by the players become a lot less relevant much later in the story. Because it stops being a thing about a Guy In A Game You Are "Playing," and starts being more about a bunch of Characters In A Story You Are Reading, Who Are Sad All The Time.

>20/23: Here we meet a "consort." Or, a salamander, in the case of John's planet. All planets have consorts, usually a different kind of amphibian or reptile for each. Why amphibians or reptiles? Didn't I cover this already in another book note? Oh. You don't remember either? Well, guess we're in the same boat then. (Consorts have very short life spans, which is the joke here.) And a parcel pyxis is like a pipe mailbox they throw shit in to send places. They have a whole pipe-based civilization, but the pipes are all clogged with oil, and… You know, I did a much better job with this worldbuilding stuff by letting you understand it all in the game through exploration and inference. Too bad you're not playing it now, so you get remedial lore for boneheads down here.

>29: This salamander laments the desecration of a glorious village frog idol. (Frogs are sacred. This fact will be as important as it is frequently repeated.) He talks about the underling swarm dedicated to destroying and oiling up such idols as a "recent" event, as if this village has existed for hundreds of years and only now have the underlings emerged to wreak mischief. This is in keeping with the strange paradox of planets in the Medium: the fact that they were just created instantly through booting up the game, and yet have always existed with entire smorgasbords of ready-made lore and quests for the players to engage with.

>36: Here this sassy salamander alludes to an alliance that John's denizen seems to have formed with the agents of Derse. Those are the "terrible guys" who commissioned the underlings. The denizens aren't really the bad guys of this game. They're more like ornery yet neutral gods of these planets, who can help or harm depending on the circumstances. Derse agents are the formal bad guys, whose designated role is to obstruct the progress of the heroes, vandalize frog statues, antagonize frog enthusiasts, and dislike frogs in general.

>37/38/40: Are you thrilled about sifting through layers of worldbuilding as conveyed through the expository bubblings of enthusiastic amphibians? Then this is the page for you. It's a pretty straightforward outline of John's formal quest on this planet. Wake the monster, kill the monster. Clean the pipes, release the Breeze. The Breeze clears the clouds, the fireflies go free. That's the goal. What does it all MEAN? That is for YOU, the reader, to boggle over, forever. It's worth nothing that when John actually gets around to doing all this, the meaning of completing this quest and the thing that it actually accomplishes are radically different than what the present stakes of the story are understood to be at this point. There is, throughout this tale, an ever-present tension between the hero's quest as presented at face value and the hero's True Quest—the mysterious journey overlaying and superseding the shallow journey described by consorts, sprites, et al—which the kids must come to grips with. >41/43: This is a pretty good procession of salamanders talking about important stuff, which perhaps makes you think it's all leading up to an encounter with some sort of regal presence in the village. Perhaps a tribal leader. But no, it's just this fool, farming all these goddamn mushrooms. The Mushroom Farmer is just notable enough of a salamander to be known to fandom as the Mushroom Farmer, and would probably be credited that way in the end credits if this were a movie. Same goes for the fellow below wearing the hat. He's known as Crumplehat. Trust me on this. >45: See? I told you his name was Crumplehat. Maybe try to fucking believe me next time I tell you stuff. >51: There are two reasons why John can only say no to this offer. First, I would have had to program an alternate path where he gives up the suit, as well as change the sprite to reflect that, and permanently introduce a fork in the story where John either sells the suit or doesn't. The second reason is it's just a straight-up dogshit offer. Giving someone a boondollar for something is like offering them a penny you found in the toilet.

>58: Salamanders are pretty good at trolling, actually. So are lots of figures in Homestuck. Like John's nanna, his dad, John himself, all his friends, and also all the characters who are literally called trolls. I guess there are a lot of characters who like to troll each other because that is my forte, you could say, as a storyteller? This could also explain why characters who are actual trolls entered the story. They simply manifested as an extension of the story's nature.

>65: Oh Christ, the Secret Wizard. I forgot about him. Yeah, him too. He's also a really big-deal salamander. (Just joking, he's actually a small deal.) He's a simple man. All he really wants you to do is behold his robes. That's it.

>67: John's bedsheet will show up again later as well. It makes quite a trip through the story, actually, and appears in a surprising number of panels. Specifically, every single panel that WV appears in. Surprised? No? Oh. Well, let's just say you are, and move on. (Okay, wait, before we move on I should clarify something. WV's shroud is actually the dream version of John's bedsheet. The Secret Wizard just keeps this oily, shitty one forever, and then starts some sort of cult. Okay, NOW we can move on.)

>70-72: So in other words, their entire mail system revolves around putting shit in the pipes, having it sent to completely random places, and whoever gets it gets it. This sounds pretty stupid, but I guess it's part of their religion or something. So you have to respect it.

>78-84: When you're playing through this game, I guess one of the more low-key, gradually unfolding jokes is how it slowly becomes apparent that all the garbage from John's house that he carelessly launched out windows and fumbled over cliffs ended up down here to be scavenged by a bunch of enterprising salamanders who try to pawn all the items back on him. Or just keep them as incredible new accessories.

>81: Five million boonies really isn't all that much, huh.

>84: I'm glad we dedicated an entire page to the choice John makes in refusing to buy back his own shitty clown statue from this guy. Look. This is my ART, people. It needs room to BREATH.

>87/88: Maybe one of the strangest traits of salamanders is how acerbically self-deprecating they are. Maybe they just hate themselves? They'd be far from the only ones in this tale. Also, here's a nice, snap game-design thing I thought of on the fly, when this game was being "developed" over a span of literally about forty-eight hours. Just put a damn bubble with a telescope in it hovering at exactly the place where the player needs to use the scope. That way, they use the scope, and they don't NOT use the scope. So you can see what's in the scope, over there. Incredible.

>90-93: Here's what's in the scope: a view of John's house up on a tall rock-spire plateau, way off in the distance. This view gives you a sense of how far John traveled by going through his gate, the relative proximity of his house, and the fact that the house is inaccessible for a while at least. It also reveals a little more about gate logic and the distances they can send you, and helps you start to imagine hopping all around this world via gates to complete your quest. Oh, and I guess this is kind of a cool shot? Sure.

>94-100: And here Nanna basically explains some stuff I just explained on the previous page. The point, obviously, is to browbeat you with explanations of Sburb game logic fundamentals until you start crying. Here's another thing I guess I haven't mentioned yet: walking through this game gives you a pretty good appreciation of the variety of imps, now that there's been another pre-entry prototyping. Remember Rose entering the game just as John goes through his gate? Now we get to observe all these imps in princess gear, or with tentacles, or cat parts, or some permutation of all three.

>100:And once again Nanna steals my thunder by explaining a thing I just explained. Damn it, Nanna. I feel your pain, John. She's absolutely brutal.

>107: More sass from one of these bastards. I feel like I'm getting fucking roasted every time they open their mouths. I'd look up at the sky and ask "Why, God?" But it's not that mysterious. I'm getting roasted by my past self and his snarkyass writing. If he wasn't trapped back in 2010 or so, I'd ask him why he wrote these damn lizards to be a bunch of wiseasses. "That's just all I know," he would probably say. Yeah, I feel you man. I mean, don't get me wrong, they're funny as hell. But, why? I don't… Oh, never mind. Now I sound like a person who is insane. I'll try to do better.

>111: Oh, here's the end of the game. That game was a single panel of Homestuck. And here we are, on…page 30? Thirty pages' worth of annotations just to cover the first panel of Act 4. I think I need to lie down.