#pole comps

[singsofsilver]

two of them :3

[pretty-quasar]

PSO Lisbon, November 2023

📸 PSO

[redwhiteandroyalbluesuggestions]

OK wow seriously, I just happened to find four more without even trying. Possibly the algorithm just knows what I like?

Be compared with many, many other books that come after you

[santonali]

bro are you athletics mens pole vault because i am absolutely obsessed with you

[norrisradio]

MEET ME IN THE WOODS

⸙ PAIRING: oscar piastri x reader | ⸙ WC: 1.6K ⸙ GENRE: fluff + murphy's law ⸙ INCOMING RADIO: another buzzer beater for oscar's birthday! huge congrats to him for the phenomenal race in suzuka, i hope 24 is as kind to him as he is to the world around him <3

⸙ SUMMARY: oscar really hates camping. but he really loves you.

It is while surrounded by the smoky remnants of a fire that refuses to stay lit and the twisted, mangled poles of a tent that won’t go up no matter how many times he tries, that Oscar Piastri realizes: he fucking hates camping.

It had been your idea to get away—spend a few nights out in the wilderness, just the two of you, to celebrate his birthday. Get away from the noise. Refresh. Decompress.

Oscar hadn’t been opposed to the idea, not exactly. But he hadn’t camped in what felt like years, not since those family summers where his dad would drag him up the mountain, forcing him to pitch tents under the scorching sun. The promise of a weekend alone with you, however, had been enough to chip away at his paper-thin resolve. 

So he’d said yes. Even smiled through gritted teeth when you’d handed him the packing list you made in Notes, complete with emojis and way too many items labeled “just in case 💕.” He had nodded along when you enthusiastically described the exact trail to the campsite, the pre-made chili you’d frozen for dinner, and how cute it would be to stargaze away from city lights.

What he hadn’t known was that the moment you left the comfort of civilization, the universe would take it as a personal challenge to ruin his birthday, one inconvenient disaster at a time.

It had started on the drive there, when the GPS lost signal and you’d insisted—insisted—you remembered the turnoff “from the map.” That map had led you forty-five minutes in the wrong direction down a logging road that Oscar was still convinced doubled as a serial killer’s driveway. That’s when you had sheepishly admitted you “might’ve misremembered a turn or two.” He’d just opened his mouth to argue when you leaned across the center console and kissed him—quick, firm, sweet.

“There,” you said, like it was a magic spell. “That one’s for not yelling at me.”

Oscar had blinked at you, startled. “I wasn’t going to—”

“Yes, you were,” you said, grinning. “But it’s okay. I would’ve yelled at me too.”

And for some reason… that made it easier. He sighed, but didn’t snap. Didn’t even complain when you made him turn around. He just shook his head, muttering something about trusting your “great sense of direction.”

Then, when you finally arrived at the trailhead, it started raining. Not just a drizzle, either. A torrential, bone-soaking downpour that waited until he opened the boot of the car to unload everything before truly beginning its assault.

The rain stopped just long enough for you both to hike the trail in damp silence, Oscar slipping twice on the mud-slicked path, one of which resulted in him falling directly onto the bag of pre-made chili, which now smelled faintly like dirt and regret. You’d spent 15 minutes doubled over laughing. 

Oscar, meanwhile, was blinking water out of his eyes and watching his socks become tiny lakes. “We’re going to drown,” he said, deadpan.

“We’re going to bond,” you countered, and then kissed the rain off his lips. “See? Adventure.”

He rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his mouth.

Then came the tent.

Oh, the tent.

It had looked easy enough on the website—a “simple two-person pop-up,” you’d called it. Except it was neither simple nor popping up. One of the poles had snapped in half while Oscar tried to force it into the ground, and another had just…disappeared. Like, vanished. Possibly stolen by a raccoon. He wouldn't be surprised. The instructions were in six languages—none of them helpful. Oscar had spent twenty minutes trying to make sense of the diagrams while you watched like it was performance art.

“I believe in you,” you’d said sweetly.

“I need less belief and more competent engineering.”

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” you replied, before kissing his jaw and whispering, “Maybe we’ll just sleep under the stars. Very romantic.”

He groaned into your neck, but he didn’t stop trying.

And now, the fire. After six attempts, two nearly-singed eyebrows, and a lighter that ran out of fuel precisely when he needed it most, all they’d managed to create was a pathetic smolder surrounded by soggy kindling.

Now, with smoke stinging his eyes and soot on his hands, Oscar is reconsidering every decision that led him here—including, but not limited to, dating someone who uses words like “romantic” and “rustic” in the same sentence.

You, somehow, still have the audacity to be chipper.

“I feel like we’re really roughing it,” you say, holding your blanket tighter around your shoulders like it’s not doing absolutely nothing to help. “Super authentic experience.”

Oscar gives you a look. “Authentic what? Torture?”

You just grin. “Think of it this way—you’ll have the most dramatic birthday story to tell for the rest of your life.”

“Provided I survive the night,” he mutters, swatting a mosquito.

But then you scoot closer, knee knocking against his, and rest your head on his shoulder like this—this mess—is still somehow worth it. And despite the mud in his socks, the blister forming on his heel, and the slight buzz of frustration humming in his chest like an angry beehive…he lets out a low chuckle.

“I can’t believe you made me bring a full spice rack for chili we didn’t even get to cook.”

“We might still cook it,” you say optimistically.

Oscar gestures at the fire, which at this point resembles a haunted pile of wet sticks. “Sure. And then we’ll eat it raw like wild animals while fending off bears with our broken tent poles.”

“I’d protect you,” you offer, nudging him playfully. “Even from the bears.”

You decide you won’t let him wallow in the dwindling hours of his birthday—not when you still have one last plan up your sleeve.

“Come on,” you say, standing and holding out a hand. “Birthday boy emergency protocol is now in effect.”

Oscar blinks at you. “That sounds fake.”

“It’s real,” you assure him, grabbing his soot-streaked hand and yanking him to his feet. “And you have no choice but to comply.”

He grumbles something unintelligible but lets you drag him back toward the van. You throw open the trunk, pop the hatch, and get to work—untangling a bundle of fairy lights you’d hidden under the passenger seat, stringing them along the roof like it’s a Pinterest board brought to life. You layer every dry blanket you can find across the floor, toss in some throw pillows from the backseat, and dig out a bag of emergency snacks from your backpack. Half of it is crushed granola bars and slightly squished peanut M&Ms, but you arrange it all on a makeshift tray like you’re hosting a five-star picnic.

Oscar stands there, arms crossed, watching you with the expression of someone deeply suspicious of joy. “You packed fairy lights?”

You glance at him over your shoulder. “Of course I packed fairy lights. What kind of amateur do you take me for?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but then you toss a blanket at his chest. “Get in, Piastri. You’ve been sentenced to enforced coziness.”

He climbs in with a sigh, but you catch the smallest twitch of his mouth as he settles back against the cushions. You follow him in, scooting close enough for your thigh to press against his, then wrap one of the fluffier blankets around your shoulders and drape it half over him too.

“See?” you say, nudging his knee. “Not completely terrible.”

He casts a glance around the van: the golden glow of the fairy lights, the now-dry haven you’ve constructed, the lopsided pile of snacks between you.

“…I’ll admit it’s slightly less terrible.”

You gasp, mock-offended. “That’s high praise coming from you.”

He turns toward you with a sigh so dramatic you’d think he was enduring medieval torture. “My tent is broken. I smell like wet socks. There’s probably chili all over my back. And we’re sleeping in a van.”

You grin, leaning in. “And yet—still the luckiest man alive.”

Before he can protest, you kiss him again—this time slower, with a little more intent. When you pull away, he doesn’t say anything for a second.

“…I guess there are worse ways to spend a birthday,” he says quietly.

You rest your head on his shoulder, smiling into his hoodie. “That’s the spirit.”

Then you pull him down next to you, both of you lying flat on the nest of blankets, limbs tangled and noses still a little pink from the cold. The fairy lights blink lazily above, reflected dimly in the van windows like distant stars.

You point up at them, completely serious. “That one’s the Big Blinky Spoon.”

Oscar snorts. “That’s not even remotely close to a constellation.”

“That’s because it’s from a better galaxy. The one where your socks are always dry and tents just pop up like they’re supposed to.”

He laughs quietly, breath fogging the air between you. “Sounds fake.”

“Sounds perfect,” you counter, voice dreamy, “And that one over there? That’s the Nebula of Doomed Chili.”

Oscar shakes his head, but he’s smiling now—really smiling—and when he turns to look at you, you’re already looking at him. Your eyes are full of stars and fake constellations and Oscar is certain he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

You don’t say anything, but he doesn’t need you to. He’s already drawing his own version of the constellations along the sliver of skin at your waist where your jacket’s ridden up, fingers tracing slow, tender lines like they’re writing something sacred. When you shiver a little, he tucks the blanket tighter around you both.

“Happy birthday, Oscar,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Another to his jaw. One more just beside his mouth. “I’m sorry it wasn’t everything I promised.”

He tilts his head, nuzzles his nose against yours. His voice is low, certain. “It was everything. And more.”

And so, it is surrounded by fairy lights, kinda soggy, kinda frozen blankets, and your arms wrapped firmly around his waist, that Oscar Piastri realizes:

He still fucking hates camping.

But he really fucking loves you.

[inesbaby21]

fluffy kk headcanons maybe?

FLUFFY KK ARNOLD HEADCANONS -

You guys definitely spend holiday breaks together no doubt!

I can see kk being super duper clingy, but in a cute way.

For example like ALWAYS needing a hand on somewhere on you, like your waist, holding your hand etcs

KK most definitely follows the sidewalk rule (you’re always walking on the inside, and trying to switch with her is starting a whole 4 he debate!)

I for sure see KK not splitting the pole, and if you so happen to part ways to split the pole it’s like ww3 (you gotta go back, and rewalk the pole together on one side. no matter how late she’s making you.

I know KK love love loves you doing her hair, I can hear her begging you to do cute styles because “I’m a broke college student, and why would I pay when you could just do my hair baby 😞.” I can literally see the puppy eyes, her cheering when you finally fold and say yes.

I already know KK begs you to go live with her, and when you finally do the comments are full of fans telling you two to “tune down on the pda, and kk hands where we can see them.”

This is kinda (really) random but i definitely see KK and a students sports manager together, I could see Y/N being super shy and KK finally getting through to her!

I also definitely can see KK dating Geno’s daughter who’s like not interested in basketball but goes to Uconn for something like music,or dance! (I can write something about this if you guys want just let me know)

Back to the fluffy- but I know that kk is so whiny, like if you had to leave the state for comps/had to leave your dorm for an afternoon lecture shes getting all pouty and sad fs!

I could also see going to practice with KK, and the girls “flirting” with you. (kk gets super jealous, and is giving everyone mad side eye like!)

Okay guys, I know that was a little short but I have practice soon! Send me more request this was really fun to write!

[some-zer0]

I really want to make a RQG comp that's just all the funniest moments next to all the saddest/scariest moments and title it "Whiplash"

Like, pump hole next to Sasha's goodbye letter next to the paladin totem pole next to the Mr. Ceiling inception realization

I think that'd be a lot of fun

[thewertsearch]

Mega-Giga Ask Comp: Part 3

@manorinthewoods asked: I'll be honest, I wrote the Locked Tomb ask having not read the Locked Tomb series. I literally only know the starting and ending strokes of the first book. That being said, I do like the half-soul-Sollux idea, and it works pretty well with the Locked Tomb's general theme of Lyctorhood, and how knotted the whole situation with Alecto, Gideon, and Harrow ends up being. (What is even going on with Nona) ~LOSS (4/13/24) @manorinthewoods asked: You know, if you hadn't already read Gideon the Ninth, I'd have recommended it as a good second liveblog. It really does fit your preferred sort of mystery. From all the clues presented, you could probably hit very close to the ultimate solution to the Lyctoral puzzle - as close as anybody could be expected to get. ~LOSS (25/4/24) @manorinthewoods asked: The Locked Tomb's prose is pretty good. On occasion, it happens to chime with a sound of 'Homestuck', but I only recall that twice so far in my reading. I like the skelebook. ~LOSS (27/4/24)

Once again, I'm glad my hidden agenda - convincing this blog's entire readership to check out The Locked Tomb - is bearing fruit.

I agree! TLT does occasionally give Homestuck vibes, presumably because its author is a fan. For the most part, though, its prose style is all its own.

Anonymous asked: Reference to American culture: the sphere of Jade's home dropping and the timer that preceded it are references to the Times Square Ball, an annual event held every New Year's Eve. A giant ball descends down a pole at 11:59 PM and reaches the bottom at 12:00 AM, January 1. I believe that you can figure out why the reference was included in the first place. Anonymous asked: btw the gamzee page was released on new years. ‘the miracle of a new beginning’ is the new year and the lab dropping is supposed to be a reference to the ball dropping in times square

Some America Lore here that I wasn't aware of.

I was wondering exactly what Gamzee meant by 'a new beginning'. Maybe Alternia practices the tradition as well.

@omnilew asked: the way you speculate and go indepth into sburbs features and how it affects the kids, made a silly headcanon that your kidsona is reading the comic while playing out their session though this is mainly because "Eventually, we were bound to cross a couple of wires that should never have been allowed to touch" kinda references chargerkind

I like it! Maybe my 'sonas have access to a more in-depth version of Rose's walkthrough, and are adding their own commentary in quiet moments during their own adventures.

@manorinthewoods asked: Your excitement over the resurrection of Dream Jade gave me a form of suspenseful mirth. Seeing how happy you were at her resurrection, while also knowing exactly what came of it, is perhaps textbook dramatic irony. If only you'd read a panel further… ~LOSS (26/4/24)

She looked so happy to be back, too! That certainly didn't last long.

She was prototyped with a smiling corpse, though. Maybe that was just her 'default' expression, and it vanished as soon as her actual feelings asserted themselves.

@thetinygladiator asked: 'I hadn’t really thought about Sally’s ectobiological parent - but now that I am, I think the funniest possible option is that it’s her landlady.' okay but i just gotta say… this immediately makes me think about how that relates to the house-building aspect. Like, with the giant tower, are they gonna charge the Imps for rent? That might work, honestly. Where do imps even live? Bet they don't have good AC or Wi-Fi, lemme tell ya.

300 GRIST/DAY NO CRUXTRUDER NO ALCHEMY NO PETS

@manorinthewoods submitted: How many computers would you have on your person if you were playing Sburb? Jade recommends at least 5. I say I'd have a laptop, phone, a spare of both of those, and computer gloves if I need to compute really fast. Also spare gloves. Speaking of the phone - is it possible for people to put phones in their pockets? Given Karkat (and a minor gag in Act 6), we can assume that it's difficult or uncommon to carry items without using the Sylladex - or maybe it's just tied to your dexterity, and you have to hold things gingerly to avoid captchaloguing them when you pick them up. On the other hand, there's no issues with accidentally storing something you've unstored and are using - so how does the Sylladex actually work? Do people just instinctively store their items once they're done using them? Is it difficult to avoid storing something you aren't using anymore? Can you stuff phones in pockets? If not, then why develop a PDA in the first place? Given the Sylladex, it should be much more commercially viable to make a tablet. ~LOSS (24/4/24)

Since Karkat can physically pick up a book, you can probably pocket your gear - although maybe there's a difference between holding an object and trying to add it to a physical 'inventory'. Either way, the issue is easily circumvented by employing wearable tech, like the kids do.

As depicted in my alchemy binge, my primary computing device would be the Pocket Holodex, which can remote into any computer in my sylladex.

In addition, my Modular Ring shirt is also a computer, which can presumably be augmented by adding extra mod1ules over time. I'd probably also captchalogue every computer in my apartment, of which I currently have six.

I'd be exploring the Medium with a minimum of seven computers, plus one pseudo-computer, plus a phone. Jade would certainly approve.

@iris-in-the-dark-world asked: the tension in act 5 act 2 is perfect, i love it. maybe even moreso on rereads, the foreshadowing and generally ominous vibes always get to me @heliotropopause asked: You're getting to the part where the comic really starts hitting its stride. This'll be fun.

The ever-present countdown certainly adds a degree of urgency to the situation.

I'm really liking the pacing of this current act, as things slowly progress towards some critical point - one which, for now, is still shrouded in mystery.

Anonymous asked: Forwarding another ask for the person with no account ~DJ: Eridan's deal seems to be based on Wizardry Herbert - a proto-Homestuck work by Hussie. A parody of Harry Potter dealing with whether magic is real. [] But Methods of Rationality began in February 2010, so "Harry Potter but obsessed with science" might have also been an intentional reference to that.-RM @heliotropopause asked: Eridan Ampora and the Methods of Rationality sure is an idea for a fanfic. He'd be so bad at it.

Eridan would be an extremely funny choice for a ratfic protagonist. He'd be so smarmy about it - and thus, a perfect addition to their ranks.

What would the definitive Homestuck ratfic be called, do you think? I think Tool-Assisted Speedrun would be a decent choice.

@killedthekat asked: An interesting thing about doomed timelines is how they serve to prevent stable loop metagaming. As a basic example, in a typical stable time loop scenario, if you observe yourself unharmed in the future, you can throw yourself into high danger high reward situations and know that probability will twist itself into whatever improbable knot it needs to do to keep you safe. But in homestuck if you lean too hard on predestination you just get shunted into a doomed timeline for your trouble.

It's true. Timehopping just isn't fun in Homestuck, as you're constantly walking a tightrope, desperately trying to stay in the one timeline that might not get you killed.

It's a good way to prevent time-travelers from becoming overpowered - something which is probably necessary for a comic which makes such heavy use of the concept.

Anonymous asked: Now that you're updating while HS^2 is, I've realised that while I'm barely keeping up with ^2, I just yelled "Oh! Upd8!" out loud when I checked your blog, so to me? You're the real continuation of Homestuck

What an honor!

For veterans of the comic, this blog is more Homestuck: Revisited than Homestuck 2. As a woman who would much rather watch video essays about old Simpsons episodes than new seasons of the show, I completely understand why some would prefer the latter.

@manorinthewoods asked: I've since finished Worm. I think Sophia's by far the best Vriska candidate. Lisa, Amy, and Colin are less so, I think. ~LOSS (21/4/24)

Oh, nice, you got all the way through it! Worm is an absolute behemoth, and I know a lot of people who started it, and gave up halfway through.

Sophia is likely the closest match to Vriska in personality. I agree with an earlier comment, though, that the most Vriska-like character in terms of audience reaction is probably Amy.

Anonymous asked: Cannot believe someone would propose a Homestuck/Locked Tomb scenario and leave Gamzee as part of a spare pairing, when the Homestuck fic The Serendipity Gospels, written by the author of The Locked Tomb, stars Gamzee and Terezi in the proto-necromancer/cavalier dynamic. Absolutely appropriate to have Gamzee as Ninth though, since his facepaint is the direct ancestor to Harrow's. Gamzee and Terezi is such a funny pairing to go with. I'm certainly looking forward to checking out The Serendipity Gospels when I'm done with the comic - both to compare it to Homestuck and to the Locked Tomb.

As am I. Apparently it was left unfinished - but considering how long this liveblog is taking, maybe Taz will have updated by the time I'm done!

Wishful thinking, of course, but I live in hope.

@bladekindeyewear submitted:

(I started Dragon's Dogma 2 a couple weeks ago and did my best to a Gideon Nav pawn (NPC ally), facepaint and two-hander and all, and the "Jaunty Straightforward" voice selection has been EXTREMELY distracting / game-improving because her voice and attitude chatting beside my player all the time sound almost straight out of the audiobook.)

Damn, you really captured her essence. Pawn is a very fitting title for her, too :(

@manorinthewoods asked: On the topic of blood color names - Blue through Purple were renamed in Hiveswap. Originally, Vriska was Cerulean, Equius was Blue, and Gamzee was Indigo - which I like more than their modern incarnations. I think 'bronze' might also be a Hiveswap thing, although I won't dispute it, and rust might have been renamed to burgundy? Maybe burgundy is a synonym. Idk. ~LOSS (4/13/24)

I think I prefer the likes of olive, indigo and bronze over more generic terms like green, blue and brown, which would quickly lead to confusion.

Vriska's blood, for example, is also a shade of blue, so it would be a little strange if blue blood was an official term, but it didn't apply to her.

@mxamericanblue asked:hi i have been absolutely BINGING your live blog rn and i gotta just get this out this is so so cool watching you react has been giving me so much joy, i don't have a computer so i can't really experience homestuck again casually when i want to but watching you read it and react and THEORIZE??? omg your theories have been so fuckin killer it's given me a new appreciation for Hussie as a story teller and how spectacular this comic truly was thank you for this, i've been having a grand ol' time, and it's all cuz of u

Thank you! I feel like I've been theorizing a lot less since I came back from my hiatus, mostly because the comic hasn't introduced many big mysteries recently - aside, of course, from Aradia's unexplained explosion.

(Pre-posting update: Since first drafting this ask, my statement above is no longer true, as Gamzee has been revealed as Homestuck's most important character. What the actual fuck.)

@lilietsblog asked: re fifth house aradia: she's an archeolodist :)

Oh, shit, you're right.

Maybe she'd be in more danger from the Lyctor than I thought.

@ben-guy asked: Vriska's ascension to god-tier is, in my personal opinion, one of the most visually striking scenes in all of Homestuck. Also, one of the panels you didn't include (which is understandable w/ Homestuck lol. Sacrifices for the sake of brevity) specifically the one where she has him write "[…] plenty of time for that l8r" above her head… Think about the position she would have had to move him to to write that.

…jesus, Vriska. You can't just do that!

@martinkhall asked: "What is treasure but a fortune, waiting to be found?" Or stolen if you're the THIEF of Light.

Son of a bitch. That's why she's a pirate, isn't it?

Because a Thief of Light is someone who steals fortunes!

@manorinthewoods asked: Eidolons. A species purpose-built to play Sburb, while breaking every mechanic you can solely with biology. Eidolons don't sleep, and live in a hive mind. Their psychologies are very poor at recognising distinct things, with Eidolons seeing the world more in terms of a blur of colors and shapes. They thus have a very difficult time understanding Classes and Aspects, never mind that their mythology never involved deities, and they never invented chess, or games of any sort… ~LOSS (15/4/24)

The idea of a species engineered from the ground up to be Players does raise the interesting question of whether there was a first species to play Sburb.

Of course, with all the time-loops we've been working with, there might not have been a first species - unless Sburb was 'created' in some sort of metatemporal space, 'before' any loops were put in place.

@manorinthewoods submitted: You are very good at analysing Vriska's psyche. Vriska's character was executed very well, I think, and I would hate her with a burning passion platonically but to a high degree if I knew her in real life. She's just… really horrible. She's a horrible person. And half her shtick is that she keeps evading consequences in spite of that. All of her mental torture of Tavros, for instance, ends in her becoming the most powerful player in the session. What sort of justice is that, Terezi? ~LOSS (15/4/24)

She hasn't entirely evaded consequences, but it's undeniable that none of the consequences she's experienced have actually stopped her from doing the things she does.

She's lost an arm, an eye, she's been beaten up, she's bled to death, and literally none of it has caused her to let up on Tavros, even a little. Letting up on Tavros, to her, would be worse than any physical harm, because it would be an attack on her worldview.

@sanctferum asked: "Has anything come of this since, actually? I haven’t heard anything about this new comic – although I do scroll in the opposite direction any time I see a reference to Homestuck, so I guess it makes sense that I wouldn’t." - The general feel I've gotten from the community has been largely positive re: the new Homestuck 2 updates, which have indeed been happening. It's being updated once per month for now, so a lot slower going than non-hiatused OG Homestuck. But I'm enjoying it so far!

Once a month seems more sustainable than Hussie's original barely-believable pace for the comic. With Hussie no longer at the helm, expecting daily panels seems like a pretty big ask - most people don't have the time, money or energy do what Hussie did.

Anonymous asked: I don't know if you read UTDR fanfiction, but this Tavros and Vriska situation reminds me a little bit of Flowey Is Not A Good Life Coach. she's trying to push him to his limits and torture him into being someone who will kill, and he just won't. say, what's your read on comparing Flowey : Vriska?

Flowey does what he does because he's lost his emotions, but Vriska does what she does because she's consumed by her emotions.

If anything, Flowey has more in common with Aradia. They're both time-travelers whose ability to feel is somewhat compromised.

Anonymous asked: WHATTTTTT HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN BACK???????? I THOUGHT YOU WERE STILL ON A LONG ASS HIATUS BUT I JUST JOW DISCOVERED TUMBLR ISNT GIVING ME POST NOTIFICATIONS FOR YOU ANYMORE EVEN THOUGH I HAVE IT TURNED ON FOR YOU AND IT WORKS FOR OTHER BLOGS???? WHAT THE HELL. IM GOING INSANE.

This has happened before - but before, I was also removed from Tumblr's search function, which doesn't seem to be the case this time.

Is anyone else having issues with Wertsearch post notifications?

@elkian asked: So has anyone mentioned the godhood joke yet? (The God Tiers costumes have hoods. God Hoods. Badum-tish)

LOL, I did miss that.

Anonymous asked: Fun Homestuck fact! After writing Karkat, someone brought up that the writer of the 'Programming For [Expletive]s' book sounded a lot like Karkat. Andrew responded by telling them to imagine that it was actually written in all caps, basically canonizing that the 'Programming For [Expletive]s' book was written by Karkat. At least, I think that's how that went? ~LOSS (28/2/23)

And it could be any Karkat, too. Maybe one of the Karkats from a doomed timeline actually learned to code from Sollux, and became a famous ~ATH developer.

@morganwick asked: So with conversation 8=8 apparently taking place in the immediate aftermath of Rose destroying her gate (even technically during Descend), and Rose's attitude towards Kanaya in the part of it that we see, does that change how much you think her attitude in their previous conversations reflects her genuine mental state?

Oh yeah, no, I’m pretty sure she was genuinely in a bad mood here. Not really so much because of Kanaya, and I think the anger directed at Kanaya specifically was inauthentic, but the bad mood itself was real. She'd recently been injected with several months of traumatic memories, after all.

@manorinthewoods asked: That panel, of John in Vriska's 'fabulous outfit', is actually pretty neat, because you can see from the proportions how young John really is. He's small, not even fully a teenager yet, and he's been thrown into this chaotic world of humans and trolls, quadrants, violence and danger. Everyone in the game must be scared, in some degree, but none of them ever show it. It makes you wonder just how strong Skaia's children really are. ~LOSS (29/4/23)

Seriously. In what universe are 13-year-olds the people most qualified to make universes? Sburb has some very funny ideas about the optimal way it should be played.

I suppose this is something that had to be true, though, for Homestuck to be the coming-of-age story that Hussie wanted it to be.

Anonymous asked: My interpretation has always been that "the Blind Prophets" are actually just Terezi herself, in a time loop-y/predestined way. She's blind, her class is Seer, AKA prophet, and those are her numerals. Also, on an unrelated note, but to weigh in on your last ask, according to Latin conventions, the plural of lusus is lusus. Does Homestuck follow those conventions? Well…

Or, since there are two Seers in Homestuck, maybe they’re Terezi and Rose. She’s a Light Player, so a blinding would be suitably ironic.

Anonymous asked: re: captchalogue codes and the states of objects: it takes a relatively small change in the physical arrangement of atoms and whatnot to turn a ghost dad poster into, say, a little monsters poster, but the two have a relatively large difference between their conceptual nature. on the other hand, it would take a relatively large rearrangement of atoms to make the slime pogo ride be anything other than a slime pogo ride. perhaps this makes the former change state more easily than the latter? alternatively, maybe the captcha system just knows that all it would really take to make the slime pogo ride stop being covered in oil is soap and water and it's happy to do that on its own, but paper is harder to clean so it wants you to jump through more hoops for that one new question: if john had used his posters for alchemy before he was able to see their defacement, would the resultant objects also be beclowned? evidence seems to suggest that players with unawakened dream selves Will draw on their walls in their sleep and not see it until Ready, so there not being mechanisms in place to deal with that seems less likely than the alternative to me, but especially considering people who aren't them Can see the drawings, how??? would that even??? work??? what would've happened if john had done alchemy with the arms cake. i think it would be funny to see that

I think he’d still get the clown posters.

The kids keep accidentally making magic items, so It's clearly possible for someone to alchemize an object with properties they didn't foresee. Therefore, I think John would make what appears, to him, to be a normal poster - but Rose would still see it as it truly is.

Anonymous asked: any thoughts on what the horrorterrors are? beyond their (admittedly vague) intentions?

I think they’re a sign of the wider cosmology beyond Sburb - and, more specifically, a sign that there is a wider cosmology beyond Sburb.

I don't know if we'll necessarily get more expansion on them than we've already had, because their whole shtick is that they're unknowable. Needless to say, I'd love to be proven wrong.

[lord-of-hollows]

Designing a Recruitable Dark Urge

In the cancelled Fallout project Van Buren a recruitable character could be found hung from a pole near dead. Players could leave him, help him down or finish his execution.

This character was horrendously powerful in combat, and suitable for multiple roles with 10 endurance, and high skill in small arms, melee weapons and unarmed. However, this character had a temperament and a reputation. He would deliberately start fights, would quote bible verses as justification for these fights, and being a known Murderer and slaver would lead to certain characters needing to be talked down from attacking him. One particular faction had a standing kill on sight order for The Hanged Man, and he would attack them without hesitation regardless of player input.

Recruiting him was intended to be an optional double edged sword. Statistically he was the most combat capable character in the game, however he would also incite combat at every opportunity.

According to design documents, players would eventually be able to save the Hanged Man and quiet his confrontational temperament, or damn him and make his violent temperament much, much worse.

Aspects of The Hanged Man, such as the name of Joshua Graham, the bandaged face, the history with Caesars Legion as a Murderer and Slaver, the religious convictions and the choice to indulge or quieten his violent nature would be retooled into The Burned Man character in Fallout: New Vegas.

I feel as if The Dark Urge in Baldurs Gate 3 would have benefited from a similar treatment. Picture landing from the nautiloid crash, and let's say shortly after bumping into Shadowheart, you see a white Dragonborn sorcerer standing over the corpse of a mangled fisherman on a beach. Intently staring at it.

You have a brief conversation with him, and gleam that he has no memory of events before the crash. He's soft spoken and sounds distracted, your tadpoles link and inside him you see flashes of heat, impulses to do... something. Something ruinous and taboo. But you're not sure.

He names himself Durge, and offers to join.

And then as you're moving through the game, every time there's a Durge scene for instance ripping off Gales arm, you have to roll some kind of check to snap him out of a trance like state or he will kill.

What would the upside of this be? I propose that The Dark Urge be horrendously powerful by way of abilities unique to him, if recruited. Like being able to cast haste on himself once per long rest, recruiting at level 3. Doesn't sound like much but it would make him invaluable in combat encounters, especially at low level. Making him a tantalising choice for any party comp. Maybe something less extreme like advantage against targets he's already wounded. Or perhaps simply being recruited at level 3 rather than 1-2 like other early game companions.

And of course he would be another voice encouraging the player to make poor choices. Insisting he be allowed to kill Karlach in Wylls quest. Allowing the Deep Gnomes to suffocate in the Underdark. Any gruesome death, the Dark Urge will insist you allow it to happen.

Successfully talking him down will incur a hidden score of Spawn points. Should you convince him to keep his urges in check, he will refuse to honour his heritage. Should you allow home to indulge his worse aspects, not only will the Dark Urge embrace his nature, he will confront you and attempt to take the Netherbrain in Bhaals name.

One big change I'd make to the Dark Urge for this to work is I'd make him visually distinct depending on the path taken. Should he be fighting his urges he'll be hunched over and twitching, like he's suffering withdrawals. Should he be killing and savouring murders, he will be calm, relaxed and soft spoken.

I'd also change his class. I'd make him a Ranger. Favoured Terrain: Urban. Favoured Enemy: Bounty Hunter. Just to hint at his past, as a serial killer.

[thewingedwolf]

first of all, rubina and leah compared this comp to the pressure cooker (they said something like “i thought i could hold a button for awhile but-“ and started miming, and everyone has mentioned like, sticks or poles or something?), and anyway i’m pissed we didn’t get to see this comp on feeds if it was just like, holding a pole on a point or something my GOD.

but second of all, LEAH AND AMERICA DOING GREAT ON PRESSURE COOKER TYPE COMPS BACK TO BACK? GIRLY POPS ARE WINNING, GIRLY POPS ARE SO UP!!!!!

[pretty-quasar]

PDSM comp 2023 🥈

📍 Birmingham, UK

📸 Studio Medusa Photo

[real-total-drama-takes]

I love Zemma, but like. there’s always been this iffy territory with it for me, bc Zee is willingly friends with Chase despite knowing about the whole car thing. Like yeah he wasn’t around to hear everything during the pole comp, but the car thing alone should be enough to realize that Chase isn’t someone you should be friends with. So I feel like there’d be conflict there if Zee were to date Emma? And it wouldn’t be 100% wholesome and sweet and uncontentious as I often see it portrayed

[mothballmilkshake]

Personal Blogging

IDK that any of you care, but hey, why the heck not.

Finding time to write has been difficult lately - I have a competition coming up next month (pole dance) for which I'm competing as a solo act and also in my first doubles act, so over the past 6 days I have spent approximately 10-11 hours at my dance studio (normal classes as well as extra practise and private coaching)

Completely exhausted, as I do also work full time (8.5 hour days, 5 days a week)

My TTRPG group has finally started up again, which is great and very fun, but does mean I lose my Saturday nights for writing, ha.

I am, however, so grateful to the people who have stuck with my stories from the very beginning (or who have jumped into them 50 chapters in, you guys are insane) - because sometimes that imposter syndrome hits and I'm like 'is what I'm making even that good, though?'

So yah, wish me luck for the comp, it'll be a lot of fun doing doubles for the first time if nothing else!

[martini-minx-ana-2]

I’m just back from supporting my friend at her first ever pole dancing competition

It was like a day long parade of IRL th1nsp0

Like, my soul left my body, I look disgusting compared to the beautiful dancers

I’m gonna put this next part under the cut with a TW for plus-sized/ hw folks (I’m saying this as someone who started with a BMI of 33)

At first there was a mix of performers with all kinds of bodies, but as the comp categories began to increase in level there were less and less plus sized competitors until finally it was only sk1nny, lean and muscular people performing the most complex routines

I feel fucking stupid. I used to do pole dancing, I really thought my f@t, lazy ass could be beautiful, elegant and sexy. There’s no way I could ever, at that w31ght, be able to perform more than basic bitch moves (with everything jiggling too 🤢)

I’m sorry, but the sk1nn13st dancers looked the best, the most beautiful, perfect

[spyvstailor]

Stalked

Chapter Five

@whiskeyskin

Chapter Five

Jaheira stared at the Zhent hard, trying to burn a hole into his thick skull as he fiddled with the frying pan beside her.

He was lingering for a reason, and it wasn't to flirt and cause troubling.

Anyone with half a sense left in their brain wouldn't come to the shadow cursed lands, and most certainly wouldn't linger long.

“Maybe,” he said finally, almost grudgingly, “maybe I'm just old and tired.”

“Perhaps.”

“Or maybe I'm putting off a death sentence,” he went on.

“Aren't we all?” She asked. “Stalked by time and death.”

“One and the same,” he pointed out.

Jaheira glanced up as a motion caught her attention. A figure walking through the gate. A solitary, tall figure, huddled over, stooping in defeat emerged from the darkness, lit only by a torch. The slump to the Tiefling wizard’s wide shoulders indicated his unsuccessful attempt to traverse the darkness on the trail of his sibling’s kidnappers.

As she spied him, she noticed the Zhent look up as well, eyes narrowing in study as Rolan slumped by them.

The nerve was open, raw for the tall wizard and it was something Jaheira avoided at all costs. Given the Tiefling’s propensity for snapping and snarling like a wounded animal at those who attempted to comfort him, she had kept a wide berth.

Nothing could be said or done for him and his family, she wouldn’t even try. Though, she wasn’t without her pity. To her knowledge these survivors from Elturel were put through so much shit before they even dared crossing through Reithwin, she could only imagine Rolan was on the edge of it all.

“We caught so many fish!” Umi greeted as the two Tiefling children scurried towards them, Mirkon holding a line of fish.

“I caught the most,” Mirkon stated proudly.

“Only because you wouldn’t share the pole!” Umi declared.

Rugan motioned to the area for the children to begin cleaning the fish, and Jaheira smirked to herself. She had used that tactic with Rion when she was young, to avoid arguing or fighting, just point at where you wanted her to focus her energy.

And it worked this time as well, both children settling down to begin their task, halting all bickering to work together on gutting and de-boning the fish.

She looked over at the Zhent. Did he have children? He didn’t seem the type. But he had the tactics of a man who did. Or at the very least, he had the instincts of a man who worked with younger people, or raised younger siblings.

Focusing on the rice, which was ready and steaming, she began to prepare it for serving.

She was at her table later, listening to the reports of Harper Branthos, when she noticed Tav return with their group. The quiet, steady Drow walked into the room where the Flaming Fist had set up their operations, just off to the side of the entrance.

Jaheira had to curl her hand into a fist. Her impatience over getting word from the Drow about Moonrise had her wanting so badly to head over and ask him if they had been to the tower yet. But she controlled the impatient urge, balled it up in her fist and focused on the report. Nodding to Branthos, she dismissed him wordlessly and turned sharp eyes onto the door to the other room.

To her left, she noticed the Zhent had seated himself at the bar, sitting beside an oddly quiet and miserable looking wizard. The two men weren’t conversing from what she saw, but they sat shoulder to shoulder, drinking sullenly and quietly.

The side room door opened and Tav walked out, followed by his companions.

Jaheira inhaled, ready to ask Tav about the status of their mission, when the Drow made straight for her, shaking his head.

“Not yet,” he said. “Come morning. My companions and I need to rest up. The shadows in this place are hungry.”

Jaheira nodded. She wanted to tell them to hells with the shadows, but she knew it was just her impatience. “Have a rest, have some drinks, there’s cold fish and rice we put behind the bar for those who are hungry.”

Tav nodded once. “Thank you.”

The Drow and his companions moved towards the bar, where at once Tav greeted Rugan with a soft laugh, clearly recognizing him.

The Zhent, as only he would, greeted the Drow with a sultry, almost seductive rasp and shifted on this stool, eyes shining in the darkness of the inn.

Was there a creature he didn’t flirt shamelessly with? She wondered with a mild furrow to her brow. The man was infuriating, really. Did he just throw charm and that rasping voice of his at anything with a heartbeat and hoped it would stick?

She shifted on her feet and returned her gaze to the world straight ahead of her, ears perked to the hushed conversation and grumbling snarls that came from the bar as Tav chatted with Rugan and Rolan both, amiable for a Drow.

Ridiculous how much she cared about what was happening at the bar without her. She had more important things to do, and they would certainly be moving if Tav would get to Moonrise and report back.

She huffed and moved from her table, heading out into the dark of the world outside.

Finishing her patrol, she returned to the inn, finding Tav and his companions gone, finding Rugan and Rolan still bellied up to the bar.

She headed for them, finally giving in to the urge to see just what Rugan was doing that kept Rolan from snarling at the man and pushing him away in his pain and grief, as he did to everyone else.

To her confusion, they weren’t saying anything. As she walked behind them, playing up her patrol, she realized the two were just sitting in silence, drinking. She did note, with a small sense of relief, that Rolan seemed to be pacing himself better, the Tiefling wasn’t belligerent or drunk, but just sullen and silent.

Rugan, for his part, was chatting idly now and then with a curious Ide, who was asking him a plethora of random questions, curious as all children were, and seemingly grateful to have those questions answered by a fairly patient and measured adult.

“Not teaching her any tricks to con people?” Jaheira asked as she passed by for the second time, on her way back to her table.

She nearly fell flat on her face as the hem of her tunic was caught, and she was yanked to a stop by a smirking Zhent.

Jaheira turned, ready to shove the man to the ground and defend her dignity, her anger rising fast and scalding into her chest, to her cheeks, up to the tips of her pointed ears.

He chuckled. “Sorry, lass, you were breezing by so quickly I thought it would be the easiest way to get you to stop for a moment.”

She growled lowly. “You must have a desire to lose that hand, I cannot see any other reason why you’d risk it like that.”

Rugan released her hem and sat back a little, hands up. “Aye, fair. My head is a little fogged from keeping up with this one.”

“You both are on very thin ice,” she snarled, still wound up from being stopped as she had been.

“Nobody asked you to come over here,” Rolan grumbled darkly.

She was about to snap back at the Tiefling, when she realized he was talking to Rugan, golden eyes flashing irritation in the direction of the man.

“Bar is a public space,” Rugan replied easily, taking a sip of his pint.

Jaheira reached over and snatched the pint from his lips. “Ide, no more for either one! I’m sick of dealing with these barflies.”

Rolan managed to fight her off one armed as he downed the last of his drink, his arm longer than her reach as he batted her off too easily for Jaheira's liking. The wizard chugged the last of his drink down, before sullenly clacking the empty pewter mug on the bartop.

“I mean it,” she stated firmly to the two young Tieflings who were tending the bar. “I want these two to dry up or get the hells out.” Storming back to her table, she quelled the rage that rose inside her guts, the rage that made her want to take wild form and tear something apart with her claws.

“There now,” Rugan protested, following her. “You shouldn’t take it out on the poor bastard for my hellish hand.”

She ignored him, standing at her table, eyes forward.

Rugan eased up beside her. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you, lass. But that poor bastard…”

“You’re both bastards,” she snapped. “We’re all miserable, we don’t need you both adding to the tension.”

“Aye,” Rugan agreed, sliding his hip against her table in order to ease up onto it. He sat facing her, angled to look directly at Jaheira. “I am a bastard, and there’s no contesting that fact, but…have a heart.”

“Rolan can wallow in his misery just as easy sober as he can drunk. And weren’t you supposed to be gone by now?” She turned and eyed him, hard eyes glittering. If she could cast thunderwave to blow the man all the way back to Baldurs Gate, she would, but instead she glared at him.

He smiled at her then, offering up a look that would have melted a lesser woman’s heart. “I’m sorry.”

Jaheira glanced over her shoulder, worried more for the state of the Tiefling, than for the man at her side.

Rolan sat, eyes on the bar, head bent.

She had noticed he was gone when she got up for the day, but she assumed he had gone for good, walked off into the shadows to die, when he returned, dejected and quiet, she knew it was a failed rescue attempt.

They couldn’t go on like this, not knowing, waiting for the Drow to make it through the shadows.

She couldn’t even blame anyone but herself.

If this didn’t come to a head by morning, she would go herself, deep into the shadows to recon for them, if she died, she died with a purpose. Because something had to give, something had to be done.

Rugan’s eyes were on her the entire time she worked through this, she could feel him studying her, his slightly glazed eyes not once wavering from their study.

Finally, she turned back, meeting his eyes.

There was something akin to an understanding, though she wasn’t certain of it, Zhent’s had a way of betraying their intentions through greed or sheer deception, but for a moment she knew Rugan knew exactly what she was thinking. It was as though he were a part of her for a single breath in time.

She hadn’t made a connection like that with another being in a very long time, she had avoided that sort of personal connection.

“Rolan needs someone to calm him down and reassure him,” she said finally. “Not drown him in enough Arabellan Dry to drown an Orc.”

“Fair play,” Rugan said. “Let’s give him something to do then. In my experience a wizard just needs research or a task that stimulates the brain.”

Jaheira smiled to herself. It was caught by Rugan who also smiled. “Rolan doesn’t seem like the research or task minded type.”

“Then give him something to blast with his fire sparkles.”

Jaheira inhaled. “Why don’t you take him on some recon for me?”

“What? Into the shadows?”

“Are you scared?” She challenged.

“Getting rid of both of us in one fell swoop? Clever little kitty-cat, aren’t you?” He teased, standing up. “Guess I’ll think something up right sharp.”

Jaheira scowled, at the thought, before she voiced it, “be careful. I don’t want to lose the Tiefling.” At Rugan’s glance, she added quickly. “He’s a very talented wizard from what I’ve heard.”

“Try not to miss me, lass,” Rugan returned easily, heading towards Rolan at the bar.

Blissfully alone, Jaheira sighed and fidgeted with the hem of her tunic, plucking a string from it before stilling herself. Her brow furrowed.

Did the Zhent just trick her into giving him something to do? It hadn’t been her idea, but it was a sound one.

She didn’t know just what the hell was going on, but she didn’t care for it. Something was shifting, slipping easily in through a crack she didn’t know she had. And it had to do with that bastard Zhent. Was he getting some kind of sick pleasure out of poking a sleeping bear? Did he often dig into a battleground like a tick just to stir the pot?

It only took Rugan a handful of words murmured to the Tiefling wizard, before the taller male was pushing to his feet and sighing in agreement and leaving behind the bar to trudge after him and Jaheira watched it all in mild shock. Was he some kind of spellcaster? Part siren or harpy? Lulling people to like him with just his words?

She recalled the situation, shaking the fog Rugan had spread across her senses away, and managed to reach out as the two men passed by her, grabbing hold of Rugan’s sleeve and holding him fast.

She smirked in retribution as he jerked to a short stop and turned around to face her, his blue eyes shining with delight.

“Get a blessing from Isobel if you’re going into the shadows,” she ordered.

The Zhent nodded once. “Aye, and whose that now?”

“God-botherer upstairs,” Rolan grumbled.

“Tell her I sent you both for a blessing,” Jaheira stated firmly.

“I’m good, lass.”

“Get the blessing,” she insisted. “It’s not for your soul. And don’t go into the deeper shadows!” She called after them as they both trudged towards the stairs.

[tokitooth]

splatoon players on youtube every season: is this the WORST UPDATE YET? will this patch RUIN COMPETITIVE PLAY FOREVER? here’s why ONE COMP PLAYER is ANGRY about this patch. GAL IS RUINED! is splatoon 3 DEAD IN THE WATER? should we just GIVE UP and STOP PLAYING?

the patch notes:

52 gal needs 2 more points for special

decreased tri-splash radius by 0.001%

we put a pole somewhere but forgot where