can you imagine what homestuck would be like if it was all south african
serious answer: part of homestuck's aesthetic and storytelling priorities is progressively stripping the characters of background, either through creating new and more isolating scenarios for them to grow up in, or linking more of their previously established biographical details to sburb. their americanness is part of this, partially since americanness is the presumed default state of being on the internet, and partially because america got more internet connection far sooner than many other countries. homestuck also avoids talking about race in weird ways that would definitely not sit nicely in a south african context.
that said, however, since there are so many earth artifacts in the story that the characters take with them after the world ends, i can totally imagine south african culture being worked into that. a million country-specific in-jokes, like a giant plot-critical stone bust of helen zille. and it could be incorporated into the character's later arcs. dave and rose, for example, have often resonated with children of immigrants struggling to connect to their culture. i could easily imagine a black dave who lives in a white area and went to white schools, doesn't speak his heritage language, and uses rap to connect with his blackness.
you could turn any of the original kids' stories into stories about generational trauma, and realising as you grow up that your parent went through something worse than you could ever imagine. (homestuck also has themes of parenthood and reproduction, as well as being a coming-of-age story. you could link the mission to birth a new universe symbolically with the mission to birth a new south africa. it works really well in that sense.)
silly answer: imagine the power of a karkat vantas who could say "MA SE POES"
“All of the rooms are empty!” Teammate growled in frustration. “They probably took Whumpee with them when they left—we should have known better than to trust someone like Whumper to keep their word.”
Henchman put a hesitant hand on Teammate’s shoulder. “Leader is still searching the upper levels. They could still be here.” They sounded anything but certain. Medic glanced up to glare briefly from where they were pacing the room, medical kit open in preparation—it felt odd for them all to hope they would need it.
Leader didn’t want to give up. Every room they checked in was empty, the air stale and stagnant. Informant had told them not to check to upper levels at all. They said they were too worn down to trust with any kind of moving weight. Leader was too worn down to care.
The floor creaked underneath them as they walked along, rushed, but still having to be so miserably careful about where they stepped. Some of the rooms were sickening to look into, weapons and hooks and restraints hung on the wall like decor. And yet all were meticulously clean, all free of dust. They were maintained often, possibly even used that frequently. Leader still made themself scan all the nooks and crannies for the small form of their teammate that they would recognize in their sleep. And had. Many times.
Finally finally finally, the next room they turned into held results. Immediately that horrible anticipation and caution was replaced with equal amounts of relief, horror, and anger.
There Whumpee was, just as promised.
They were so much thinner than Leader remembered, strung up in the middle of the room to put them on full display. Their bony arms were stretched up over their head, thin red ropes laced into an intricate design that dug in tight and held them up by their wrists. Blood was dribbling down their arms from the ropes, so incredibly purposeful and stark against their pale skin. Whumpee’s head was lolling against their chest, body limp and dragging slightly on the floor. They were wrapped in a sheer white robe that just barely covered them, drawing attention to the horrible marks littered purposefully over their skin.
Leader froze up, forgetting how to breathe as they took in the hellish sight. This was Whumpee. Sweet, careful, clever Whumpee, who was never afraid to take risks, who would do whatever it took to make people happy, while all the while pretending they’d done nothing at all. But suddenly, even though they’d found them again, Leader knew there was a lot further to go before they would get Whumpee back.
Their vision started swimming, and they gasped in a sudden breath to avoid passing out. That wouldn’t help anyone now. The floor creaked under them as they took a measured step forward, and Whumpee’s head snapped up in a jerky motion.
“Whumpee,” Leader said softly, pausing with their hands in clear sight.
Their teammate whined and blinked hazily, shifting around fruitlessly with trembling muscles as their cloudy eyes slowwwwly focused.
Whumpee blinked again. Their voice was hoarse and broken when they spoke. “Lead–er?”
It felt like a small victory. They breathed out a small sigh. “I’m here, Whumpee. We came—” Now it was their turn for their voice to break. “We came for you. I’m going to untie you now, okay?”
Whumpee nodded numbly. There was still something vacant about their gaze. Something not entirely there. They were in shock, Leader determined, moving around them carefully to a lever that seemed to be attached to the ropes holding Whumpee. They released the tension slowly, watching to make sure that Whumpee was compensating for it, folding their legs under them into a kneeling position and whimpering as their sore, stiff, and abused muscles moved for the first time in who knows how long.
When their arms were tucked safely to their chest, Leader approached once more. They didn’t miss Whumpee’s flinch as their legs passed into their peripheral vision, but the poor thing kept their eyes fixed on the floor. Leader crouched in front of them, examining the ropes that were gouging lines into Whumpee’s skin. There was more blood around them than they thought—the thin ropes that would already be difficult to untie were soaked in them, making them expand and tightening the knots as well as their hold on Whumpee.
Leader gently took Whumpee’s hands in one of their own and stretched their arms out straight between them. "I’m going to have to cut this,” they said, tracing a finger down the rope criss-crossed over Whumpee’s forearms.
Whumpee bit their lip to restrain a whimper and nodded, eyes glassy. Leader put a hand out, just barely touching Whumpee’s chin to get their attention.
“Whumpee, look at me.”
They did.
“I am going to cut the ropes only. Not you. Do you understand that?”
A slight hesitation, and they nodded. Leader knew they were lying.
Still they pulled out their knife and slid it under the loosest part of the ropes. Whumpee hitched a breath as the rest of it pulled tighter, and Leader murmured apology after apology.
I’m sorry.
The dull edge of the knife pressed against Whumpee’s now papery skin. Leader hated how tense they were, quivering at the mere presence of it.
I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner.
They sawed carefully at the red ropes, and found they couldn’t tell if the rope had always been that color, or if it had been dyed by Whumpee’s blood.
I’m sorry we didn’t stop this from happening at all.
The rope snapped free, and they began to unwind it from those shaking arms.
I’m sorry for each one of those bruises that are shaped like Whumper’s hands.
In some places the rope was dried to their skin. Leader ran water from their drinking flask over it and pried it gently loose.
I’m sorry for every drop of blood that you’ve shed in this place.
As soon as Whumpee was free from it they tossed it to the side, leaning forward and scooping Whumpee into their arms.
I’m sorry for each wound and welt and burn that Whumper put there for me to see.
Whumpee clung to their neck, far too light in their arms and trembling as they carried them out of that godforsaken room. Whumpee’s face nuzzled into their neck, hair hanging limp onto their shoulder.
I’m sorry for every violence and cruelty you’ve been dealt.
The rest of their team looked up as they rounded the top of the rickety stairs and started easing their way down, arms tightening protectively around Whumpee.
Medic wasted no time in diving for their medical kit, unpacking what they could tell they’d need in an organized rush. Teammate and Henchman just stood there, processing and wanting so much to help but not having any way to.
“Where were they?” Teammate asked, voice strained.
“In a room up there,” Leader said, then answered the unspoken question. “They were tied up to the ceiling. Hanging like some twisted display.” They finished abruptly, grinding their teeth as they felt Whumpee shudder in their hold.
When they reached the ground level, they lowered Whumpee down once again, gently unhooking those weak, grasping arms from around their neck. They stayed right down beside them while Medic looked them over.
“It looks like I’ll have to treat those rope burns right now,” Medic said, fighting to keep the emotion out of their voice as they saw the extent of all of the injuries—the careful placement so they would all be in easy sight. “They’re all that’s actively bleeding, though, so the rest can probably wait until we get home. Someone give them some water, too, please.”
Henchman had handed their flask to Leader before Medic was even finished speaking. Leader unscrewed the top, brushing Whumpee’s hair out of their face. Medic was holding their arms still in order to clean and bandage the deep rivulets running through them, so Leader held the water up to Whumpee’s face themself. Whumpee lifted their head up, lips parting to allow for water to trickle in. They lapped at it in an almost pathetic way, small mewling noises escaping from their throat as they tipped their tear-stained cheeks back to coax more water from it. Leader pursed their lips and kept the flow steady.
It was heartbreaking, seeing them look so desperate. Seeing them with their arms held limp in front of them, twitching from exhaustion and pain as Medic smeared ointment on them. Seeing them with bruises on their knees from sitting surely just like this, back arched and neck extended to chase after the water as it fell onto their parched lips that moved in silent pleas that it wouldn’t be taken away. Seeing fresh tears track down over their cheeks and not knowing which thing it was that was too much right now, or if it was just all of it, all of it.
When Whumpee hiccuped and almost fell over, Leader pulled the flask back and recapped it, just for now, instead looping an arm behind Whumpee’s back, trying to avoid where the bare skin was etched with violent designs shown by the open back of the robe they wore.
“Nnh, please,” Whumpee muttered senselessly. Their eyes had lost awareness again. “Ple, please, I need…nn…”
Medic rubbed their thumb soothingly over Whumpee’s arm while they secured the bandages. “Whumpee, love, what do you need?”
Their chapped lips pursed together as their head started swinging back and forth. Almost like they didn’t think they were allowed to ask for things. “Help…" They finally pleaded, a separate thought from before.
Leader wanted to hold them tight and never let them go. Instead, they settled for smoothing one tear of many off of their cheek, settling their hand there over the hot, flushed skin. “Whumpee…”
Of course we’re going to help you. Of course.
But Whumpee shook them off, craning their neck to look into Leader’s eyes with their shiny, empty ones. “I kn, know you don’t want me any–nymore, but please..please don’t let me die like this,” they choked out just before collapsing into sobs.
I'm very tired, and this isn't something I'd usually post about, but like.... I've been stuck on it for a while now, and I'm not even sure what I'm doing
My orientation label stuff. I know what genders I'm physically attracted to, but I haven't worked out the ones that I'm romantically attracted to. I've been in a decent number of relationships and I can develop crushes and feelings and whatnot, but it's difficult for me to go beyond that. I can, it just takes a lot. I don't think I'm aro, since despite my awkwardness, I can still be a super romantic person, and I've been in love before. It's just been a really, really long time since then
I've been considering "panromantic", but I'm not completely sure if that really fits my situation all the way or not. I don't know much about labels and terminology (my bad memory makes me forget a lot of it sometimes), and I know that labels aren't even that important of a thing to have, I just wanted to see if there was a term/label that'd work for me
Which is why I'm making this post. There's a lot of you guys here that are probably more familiar with a lot of it than I am, so I wanted to see if maybe I could get a little help with trying to figure this out ^^"
Maybe "moloch" isn't actually some unstoppable, insurmountable force, but a convenient excuse for wannabe technocrats to pretend that the version of the world they want is inevitable and absolutely necessary. Or to put it another way: if your idea is that most jobs are fundamentally unwanted, and the poors are just too deluded to understand this, then maybe you're not actually on the side of humanity.
?????
i’m not exactly sure what argument you’re making? like, i disagree with both of the things you just said, but i’m not sure what point those things are in service of.
i think moloch is a pretty useful concept describing a real and serious (and close to insurmountable) thing? that technological unemployment is a continuing trend that isn’t going to get better unless we address it? and also i think that everyone i’ve ever heard calling people “wannabe technocrats” has been a huge jackass??
idk where the hell you got that idea that i think “the poors” don’t know what they really want, but, uh. it’s not a weird uncommon internet nerd thing to think that your job is terrible. i’ve worked minimum wage and never met anyone there who didn’t wish they didn’t have to do the shit they had to do there. ime it is generally understood that jobs are usually shit- the culture issue is that people feel like they need to have them in order to have worth as a person. isn’t it interesting that the common thread linking all jobs is that you have to pay people to do them?
