You Cant Tell The Diff Between Your Sister And Your Girlfriend???

you can’t tell the diff between your sister and your girlfriend???

SPENDING THE LAST FEW DAYS OF WARMTH BEFORE WINTER COMES TO BITE OUR ASSES WITH ITS CHILLY FANGS.

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this ask came to me in a dream and i must speak on its behalf: what do you think about homestuck beyond canon

I think it's too early for me to have a well-formed opinion at this point, for a very specific reason.

I basically agree with the majority opinion that the post-epilogue story which would eventually become Beyond Canon is characterised by a whole lot of spite toward its target audience. Where I differ is that I don't think this is anything new; a certain sneering contempt for their audience has always been a hallmark of Andrew Hussie's work, and it's present in Homestuck right from day one. At most, Hussie getting burnt out from the Hiveswap fiasco resulted in a text that's somewhat less willing to entertain the polite fiction that its readers are in on the joke, but that's not a change – it's just saying the quiet part out loud.

The interesting part is that this contempt isn't merely undirected bile: it's motivated by a particular stance regarding the purpose of fiction. Writing a story which invites emotional investment, then turning around and calling you a stupid baby for actually becoming invested in it is one of Hussie's favoured narrative sleights of hand, but it's not the Charlie Brown-esque football pull it appears to be – or, rather, it's not only that. Lurking under it is the insistence that fictional characters are, ultimately, objects: tools for exploring a narrative space. Ironic detachment is the only "correct" way to approach works of fiction, because when you emotionally relate to a fictional character (or, heaven forfend, actually identify with one), you are fundamentally committing a category error – like you've mistaken a hat for your wife.*

To what extent Hussie actually believes any of that, and to what extent it's just a very committed bit they're doing is a fair question, but that's not important here; sincere or not, the opening stages of (what was not yet) Beyond Canon are dyed in the cloth with it. Care of the comic has subsequently been handed off to a separate creative team who, to all textual evidence, don't buy into this notion of what-fiction-is-for at all, but they're building on a foundation that's steeped in it. What we're looking at now is a serialised narrative which disagrees with its own premise. I genuinely cannot imagine what sort of flower they're expecting to grow in the soil they've been given, and I don't think we're far enough in to draw any well-supported conclusions just yet.

All of which is a very complicated way of saying that I'm just here for the show!

* With apologies to Oliver Sacks.

A display of bright green washed over her cheeks, practically making her face glow and almost giving warmth to the natural coolness of her body. “So Uh-U-Um, when did yoU get that … ?” Her eyes keenly focused on something nearly invisible before her, senses enhanced tremendously by space powers. She practically sputtered out her answer, trying to keep calm.

“OH YOU KNOW,” his own came in reply, hands gracefully sliding along the curvature of his form, making sure his poses were slight, delicate, very intentional. “I GOT IT THE OTHER DAY. WAS WAITING TO SHOW YOU …”

The entire horizon before him rumbled, miles upon miles of unending green shifting, the picoscopic mutant having to brace himself to withstand the godlike movement of his matesprit as she leaned in closer to observe his infinitesimal self. Karkat gazed heavenwards to the colossal cherubim that dominated all he could survey and more, still trying to remain collected himself. It wasn’t every day he found himself attempting to fluster her, especially at this size scale, but he was so fortunate to have Kanaya sew this up for him. He was going to just buy it, but a ludicrous price abstained such a thought.

And yes, he did have her make it this size specifically. 

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Prompt: AU where john is a twisted and evil god who takes immense pleasure in making the lives of tinies a living hell.

His face filled the Earth’s skies once more, stretching on for miles and miles. Had they not known who He was, not known what He could do, will do, and has done, the people of Earth would have thought Him to be a stunning, beautiful monolithic being. He was like an Ancient Greek statue, molded to perfection, except His beauty and glory was almost too much to bear. Especially considering the fact He was a monster.For as long as any humans living on Earth could remember, they had been used like some sort of entertainment for Him. They were forced to bow down and pray to Him, as He was God. He had created them out of nothing, and for that they should be thankful. They had to scream themselves hoarse for mercy, for forgiveness–but what did they need forgiveness for? What had they done?Sometimes He would listen to their pleas, spare them some pain for a single day…But most of the time, He would ignore them, and their hell would continue anew.Today, their God looked contemplative. His face was stoic and cold, indifferent, glorious, miles wide eyes narrowed down at them. They suspected the Earth was simply the size of a pea to Him today.After a moment, His voice boomed from the heavens, making several million go deaf simply from hearing the first word.“You pitiful little insects…You think that round of groveling was enough to earn mercy? I am God, you pathetic dust-mites, and I deserve so much more than that!”Chaos ensued then, just as it always did when He rejected their pleas. It was a stressful couple of moments as He contemplated what to do with them.And then His mouth opened, blowing a wave of hot breath at the planet. Earth shook violently simply from that, buildings toppling over from the force of a single, small breath from their God. Almost ironically to all the pain it caused, at least his breath didn’t smell bad. In fact, it was a lovely scent, like the winds blowing through a field…His tongue, large enough to hold their entire solar system upon, stretched out underneath their planet, slamming into it with such a force those who survived afterward probably had a miracle on their side.Or a curse.The Earth moved at an impossible speed towards the gaping astronomical maw of God, a single drip of saliva coating the planet and promptly drowning all who still lived. Or, at least, all but one, who watched the planet become crushed by nothing more than a tongue.A minute later, their planet reformed, everything still intact, everyone still living, as His smile stretched devilishly above them.“Tomorrow will be worse, little ones…” His thunderous voice cooed.“Tomorrow your whole galaxy gets no mercy from God.”

(Condy feeds her “Little Prince” a bit too much)