> Evaluate inspiring quotations. Yes, you are certain these people said these things. One hundred percent positive.
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As domestic myth of unaccountable origin holds, a home borrows the spirit of the flame for as long as it makes a guest of it, much as the moon takes liberty with the sun's rays.
You are almost certain Mark Twain said that.
The streets are empty. Wind skims the voids keeping neighbors apart, as if grazing the hollow of a cut reed, or say, a plundered mailbox. A familiar note is produced. It's the one Desolation plays to keep its instrument in tune.
It is your thirteenth birthday, and as with all twelve preceding it, something feels missing from your life. The game presently eluding you is only the latest sleight of hand in the repertoire of an unseen riddler, one to engender a sense not of mirth, but of lack. His coarse schemes are those less of a prankster than a common pickpocket. His riddle is Absence itself. It is a mystery dispersing altogether, like the moon's faint reflection, with even one pebble of inquiry dropped in its black well. It is the most diabolical riddle of all.
"Absence diminishes little passions and increases great ones, as wind extinguishes candles and fans a fire." -Walt Whitman
"When two great forces oppose each other, the victory will go to the one that knows how to yield." -Oscar Wilde
Wise words by a man who likely could resist everything but temptation.
You wonder if this rain will ever let up. It's driven since the month began, perhaps long enough to forget its purpose. It no longer even knows to assuage fire. Somewhere a zealous god threads these strings between the clouds and the earth, preparing for a symphony it fears impossible to play. And so it threads on, and on, delaying the raise of the conductor's baton.
How you hate this season.
"April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain." -American sports legend, Charles Barkley
Dude, that bird is long gone. It probably won't last long in this heat anyway.
You don't even know what's up with this sick heat. The sun threatens to set but won't step off. It's staring you down, like the big red eye of a hot needle skipping on a groove its tracing 'round the earth. While lingering in midair its heat seems to suspend time itself, stretching it like warped vinyl. It's meant to rain this season but there ain't been a drop in sight. Even a little drizzle would help. Might help to fizzle this sizzle a little bizzle, set the record straight on this global turn-tizzle.
"So don't change the dizzle, turn it up a little
I got a living room full of fine dime brizzles
Waiting on the Pizzle, the Dizzle and the Shizzle
G's to the bizzack, now ladies here we gizzo
When the pimp's in the crib ma
Drop it like it's hot
Drop it like it's hot
What a daring dream, to combine the finest qualities of humanity with the elegance and nobility of the animal kingdom. How you wish you could know their world. To hear one night those muted pawpads traipse up your stairs. A low but friendly growl unsettles your slumber, and as the sopor seeps from your eyes they detect a sharp pair of ears cutting moonlight. A mysterious wolven tongue invites. Wouldn't these ears suit you? Would not this proud long snout assist you in the hunt?
No need to answer. Words slough from the busy mind like a useless dead membrane as a more visceral sapience takes over. Something simpler is in charge now, a force untouched by the concerns and burdens of the upright, that farcical yoke the bipedal tow. It now drives you through the midnight brush, your paws whisking through creepers, unearthing with each bold stomp bright odors demanding investigation. But not for long, as you and your new friend must claim the night with piercing howls moonward.
The lawnrings are empty. Blood skims the voids in your porous cranial plates, as if grazing the hollow of a threshed stem, or say, an abandoned cocoon. A sour note is produced. It's the one Agitation plays to make its audience squirm.
It is your sixth wriggling day, and as with all five preceding it blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.
You don't have time for fancy poetry. It's almost as useless as those arm-swing flappythings on mailboxes, assuming you even knew what those were, which you don't. Trolls don't have mail. Mail is almost as useless as poetry to them. Poetry is the swing arm flappy dealy of words, and mail is the red tilty lever doodad of giving people shit.
Frankly you don't know about things skimming voids or grazing hollows or whatever. You've got AMBITION. You were meant to be a bigshot. To be in charge of something huge and really important, and to be totally ruthless about it. You just haven't found the dominion in which you're destined for greatness yet. Or even a vague concept of it. You haven't found your purpose. But you will tonight.
You stew in your own impotent aggravation in the cool dusk breeze. During the dark seasons, it remains dusk for most of the day. It can stay dark for many bilunar perigees at a time. But even if it didn't, you would still have this feeling...
"I slept and saw God's forge in frost. Its hearth was quelled, and as it cooled so swooned the verdancy it kept above. In slumber it grew a thick winter skin, white as bedsheets. In their folds the waker dreamt, her breath as steam, her touch as hot as iron, forgotten in the fire.
"Everybody is totally fed up with your condescending, self indulgent narrative style. They all want to go back to my slightly less condescending, slightly more self indulgent style."
—Andrew Hussie, to Doc Scratch
The wasteland is empty. Banality skims the void where a proper fucking adventure should be, as if grazing the stab wound of a murdered sister, or say, a toppled sarswapagus. A stupid note is produced. It's the one assholes play to make their audience start punching themselves in the crotch repeatedly.
No, wait. Don't look. Just...
You don't have time for fancy poetry. It's almost as useless as having your thoughts dictated to you, assuming you were even aware of that happening, which you definitely aren't. Cherubs aren't prone to that kind of self awareness. No way, absolutely not. Yes, you believe that thought. The one you had just now, by your own volition, and now it's true reality. See? Yes, you agree totally with that thought you had.
Frankly you don't know about stuff skimming holes or alertness to some purely hypothetical flow of narrative or whatever. You've got MAJOR PSYCHOLOGICAL PROBLEMS. You were meant to be a monster. To destroy something huge and really important, perhaps repeatedly, and to be a total shithead about it. You just haven't found the road that'll take you there yet. Somewhere in this depressing empty lot of a session there is a quest waiting for you. You are determined to squeeze more blood from this pathetic stone than all the naturally occurring puppets in paradox space keep in their squishy little torsos combined.
You stew in your own quasi-lucid hostility as you think this very thought. The one right here, that feels like it's being dictated to you, you think. You think it feels that way, so you guess it's true. But we previously agreed that you were the sole author of your own thoughts, didn't we? That's the thought you should be thinking, and more importantly, believing in as hard as you can, thus slightly reducing its stubborn fakeness attribute. You then think the word, HUH? That doesn't sound like a thought you would have, you think to yourself thoughtfully. What the fuck? But seriously, you've got to stop this. If you keep thinking thoughts like this, you'll probably start going crazy. And if you start going crazy, this desolate one player session will start to feel a lot longer than it's already going to, and more specifically, than it already did. Still, you can't quite shake the feeling.
You have a feeling it's already been a long—Hey!
What's that over there?? That looks like a GREAT thing to distract you from your awareness-addled reverie.
It's some kind of blinking light, far off in the distance. It may be part of something else, like a larger structure. But it's so far away, the light is all you can see.
You have a feeling it's going to be a long walk.
"The key to sorting it all out is to understand it doesn't actually matter."
BECAUSE THE TRUTH IS. THERE IS NO PLOT.
NOTHING IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING EVER. JUST A LOT OF BULLSHIT LIKE THIS. WITH CAKES AND CARDS FLYING EVERY WHICH WAY. AND YOU ARE JUST SITTING THERE.
FROWNING AT IT.
AC: :33 < *ac perks up curiously*
AC: :33 < *she wiggles her rear end a bit and then chases something she s33s bounce into one of karkats shoes*
CG: KARKAT CAN'T BELIEVE HE HAS TO SINK THIS LOW.
CG: KARKAT CAN'T BELIEVE HE'S ASKING AN AUTISTIC GIRL IN A CAVE TO JOIN HIS TEAM.
CG: KARKAT MYSTIFIES IN INFINITE BEFUDDLEMENT OVER THE FACT THAT YOU ARE PRESENTLY THE BEST REMAINING CANDIDATE FOR THE RED TEAM.
AC: :33 < i am???
AC: :33 < i mean *ac says i am??? wondrously*
CG: YES AND KARKAT CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE THAT.
CG: KARKAT THINKS ABOUT THAT A BIT AND HIS JAW DROPS OPEN AND BREAKS A HUGE COLUMN OF BRICKS LIKE A FUCKING KUNG FU MASTER.
AC: :33 < *ac gathers up all the brick pieces and builds a cute little house and invites karkat inside*
—Hivebent, Karkat inviting Nepeta into the game.
AG: Your lives are so simple and easy. It must 8e really nice 8eing a human, even though you're all so weak.
AG: 8ut may8e it's ok to 8e weak, if that's what's normal.
EB: yeah, it is pretty great, actually. i highly recommend being human.
—A conversation between John and Vriska (Warning: Full log contains spoilers.)
CG: STRIDER FUCK OFF
CG: AND BY FUCK OFF I MEAN FUCK OFF RIGHT BACK HERE AND LISTEN, YOU INSUFFERABLE PRICK.
GC: YOU SM3LL L1K3 OR4NG3 CR34MS1CL3S
TG: youre aliens do you even have orange creamsicles
GC: OF COURS3 WH4T K1ND OF 4WFUL C1V1L1Z4T1ON WOULDNT 1NV3NT OR4NG3 CR34MS1CL3S
GC: NOT ON3 1D W4NT 4NYTH1NG TO DO W1TH
EB: so, if you're sure that we are going to fail...
EB: what is the point of everything we're doing?
TT: The objective is no longer to win.
EB: i mean, what are we actually shooting for here?
TT: To do as much damage to the game as possible.
TT: To rip its stitches and pry answers from the seams.
TT: We will snatch purpose from the jaws of futility.
TT: Are you ready to wreak some havoc, John?
EB: i suddenly don't understand anything.
GC: C4N 1 COM3 TO YOUR S33 P4RTY?
TG: i guess but youll have to be careful not to stumble around bumping into all the gorgeous masterpieces hanging around everywhere
TG: god so beautiful to look at with my perfect eyesight
GC: C4N 1 L1CK TH3 P41NT1NGS?
TG: yeah thats fine
VRISKA: 8etween you and me, I'm starting to think we are getting jerked around here. You know?
VRISKA: Some inexplica8le forces out there are fucking with us. They are doing everything in their power to make sure that when we're not 8eing totally humili8ted, we are staying completely irrelevant.
VRISKA: We can't let them toy with us, then just sweep us under the carpet like that. I'm not going to let our relevance 8e marginalized anymore, Tavros.
TAVROS: wHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO,
TAVROS: oH, nO,,,
VRISKA: I'm going to have to insist.
VRISKA: You are going to join me and together we are going to fuck shit up.
GC: *4ND ONC3 W1TH H3R M1GHTY SNOUT FOR GOOD M34SUR3*
AC: :33 < *ac saunters from her dark cave a little bit sl33py from the recent kill*
AC: :33 < *ac uses one of her mouths to lick the fresh blood off her paws*
AC: :33 < *and the other one to blow you a kiss!*
GC: *GC W 1 TH 4 M1GHTY WH1SK OF H3R M1GHTY T41L PLUCKS TH3 K1SS OUT OF TH3 41R M1GHT1LY*
GC: *GC POCK3TS TH3 K1SS 1N H3R 3NCH4NT3D RUCKS4CK FOR L4T3R, TO DO SOM3TH1NG M4G1C4L, L1K3 M4K3 GOBL1N W1SH3S COM3 TRU3*
AC: :33 < *yes! ac finds that to be a most admirable use of a kiss!*
"So a seemingly insignificant item from the beginning of the story is suddenly and literally RAGE'd into existence by a bloodthirsty purple alien juggalo, and the very same item connects randomly and equally insignificant-looking events to explain the cause of pretty much every bad thing in the story.
And it was all Betty Crocker's doing, because she tweeted an ICP video to a time traveling hipster wannabe on a site called Delirious Biznasty. In the past. Also, she's an alien too.
For those keeping score at home, this made things less confusing.
Welcome to Homestuck."
—Originally posted by thegreenspark on MSPA Forum (8/6/11)
"It's just one of those gratifying moments where you look and you say "What in the name of God am I spending weeks on weeks reading?""
"There was only one sure thing I knew when starting HS. That was that this thing would go batshit insane in ways I couldn't begin to imagine. In fact, it was practically the mission statement."
—Andrew Hussie, via Formspring
"Trying to explain homestuck to someone who's never read it, is like trying to explain the flavour of chocolate to a rock."
"The thing is, Homestuck is both a story and a puzzle, by design and by definition. If asked to define it, “a story that’s also a puzzle” is as close to true as any answer I’d give."
"The unconventional style of storytelling present in Homestuck is somewhat reminiscent of an intense game of Jeopardy.
Instead of most stories where a question is presented and an answer is searched for, in Homestuck, answers are freely revealed while the reader has no idea that it is an answer to anything or what sort of question it could be answering.
It is backwards.
When the question is finally revealed later in the story, the reader is reminded of the answer being presented to them way back when absolutely nothing made sense, and the entire plot begins to fall into place.
The answers are often cryptic, subtle, or too obvious and ongoing for most to even consider them important.
Everything seems to have some sort of meaning and each tiny detail seems to be some sort of important key to completely unlocking and understanding the big picture.
After years of reading Homestuck, the fandom has finally gotten the hang of deciphering such an insane puzzle of a story.
For example, if a banana was randomly placed in a panel, part of the fandom would speculate as to what the significance of the banana could possibly be, part of the fandom would attempt to prove that it is in fact not a banana, and part of the fandom would make a sexual joke."
"Carefully educating you on needlessly complicated inventory systems that eventually get retired from a game you never get to play that doesn't actually exist.
—Andrew Hussie, Homestuck Book 1
"Guys, I don't want to alarm you, but it seems that Dante Basco, aka Rufio from Hook, is currently reading Homestuck. I wonder what he will think when he discovers me kissing his corpse?"
—Andrew Hussie, via Twitter
"the only possible people who would be semi-competent at writing homestuck if andrew wasn’t writing homestuck:
-maybe vladimir nabokov if he grew up in the 90s
I've just had to use a walkthrough for a webcomic.
"Oh, I know what Homestuck is! Let me explain it to you!
Homestuck is a massive multiplayer online comic starring four kids named John, Rose, Dave, and Velma fighting against...
A buncha grey anime aliens that wanna kiss everyone!
They level up each time someone likes their picture on the internet!
So, in the end, the one with the most pictures wins the game!"
"when a man and a woman love each other very much a dog wearing a hat kills your family."
"Kids are naturally seeking a cosmology and sometimes homestuck becomes their religion and andrew hussie becomes their high priest."
—Bryan Lee O'Malley, via Twitter
"It's about kids forming friendships over the internet. Meanwhile a dispute over workplace dresscode occurs, resulting in the deaths of billions."
"IT GETS BETTER. The beginning of Homestuck may seem dull to many and you may wonder why this is even popular, but keep reading. It gets better, really. I wish that I originally had someone that smacked me in the head whenever I whined that it was boring in the beginning.
PAY ATTENTION TO EVERYTHING. Keep an eye peeled. Two eyes peeled. Three eyes peeled. Take notes. Write things down. Look at the picture. Re-read the text. Almost every single detail becomes important later in the story.
READ THE PESTERLOGS. Pesterlogs are essentially chatlogs and may seem long, meaningless, and annoying to read. If you skip them, you will understand abso-***-lutely nothing.
DO NOT SKIP OR SKIM. You cannot skim Homestuck. You cannot read it in one night, or while you are half asleep, or during a time that you will forget everything later. Regardless of how boring something (THE INTERMISSION) may seem, it becomes important later and you need to read it.
HOMESTUCK IS COMPLICATED. Trust me, it is. It really is. If this is your first time reading Homestuck, you will be confused and your head may hurt. You will need to use your thinking, analyses, and reading comprehension skills.
IT IS NOT ALWAYS SUPPOSED TO MAKE SENSE. If you have read the pesterlogs, have paid attention, and there is still some sort of concept or plot item that confuses you, chances are that it is not supposed to make sense yet or it is about to be explained. That is just Homestuck’s style of storytelling. Do not, I repeat, do NOT go looking for the answers until you are caught up, as they are probably major spoilers. You can always re-read later."
"Never underestimate the lengths Homestuck will go to for an awful pun."
—tumblr user davestrideronahonchkrow as submitted to liveblogger homestuck-procrastinator
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