FYI

Andrew Hussie definitely does not have any goddamn thematic reason for the Welsh-vs-English thing, and for all we know may in fact believe Wales to be some kind of horse.

So you're not allowed to write Homestuck meta involving any form of historical or contemporary Anglo-Welsh conflict whatsoever. This is literally illegal.

Another SBURB-session dream

limitingwhimsy: In one of my dreams last night, we were meeting at a two-day Homestuck meet-up/convention near my sisters' house in Louisville, which we both knew was going to turn into a SBURB session on the second day. Not everyone knew this, but you had woken up on Prospit and had warned me, and I had warned thegeekgene and a friend of hers, who were also there.

You'd been worried about being around so many noisy people in a strange city (more than about having to fight monsters), and reasons that made sense in the dream, this meant that ahead of time you had sent me three old kameezes you wanted to wear, so that I could replace the seams with new thread and make the pockets larger. This seemed like a necessary kind of protective measure, and I'd done it - but not very well because I'm bad at sewing, and it was important that the thread be very heavy. The seams looked and felt very rough and uneven on the inside, so I was worried you'd be upset, or that they wouldn't "work" somehow. But you seemed to be happy with them, and were wearing a blue one with blue leggings.

(Now that I'm awake, I assume you were a Seer, and had decided to have a non-game-supplied god-tier outfit for Gamzee Reasons. You didn't have a symbol on there, and the tunics were all different colors that didn't match any of the aspects - the others were darker purplish-blue and pale yellow.)

Your obligatory SBURB totem animal was a very intelligent and socialized juvenile brown owl (of no real-world owl species) who was missing a bunch of feathers and flew awkwardly, and wasn't good at hunting. You carried him in a sort of stiff cardboard tube in your pocket, to keep him safe and calm in the crowd. He had a little piece of gold foil on his leg to remind him of where you were, like putting a string around your finger as a reminder. That evening, we were sitting in my sisters' back yard feeding him and trying to coax him to hunt the mice that were there. You knew that you were going to have to take the foil off and let him go on his own after we entered the game, and I was worried - he didn't seem healthy enough or ready.

(Again, now that I'm awake, I can see that he was very sick and thus "doomed," and as such you were going to save him by prototyping him, but it wasn't obvious to me in the dream.)

*spoils the fuck out of remaining cat*

I am extremely fucked up, and got him treats and toys and a few cans of fancier-than-usual food, instead of getting myself intoxicated. Because I feel that intoxication causes... cysts? Grief cysts?????? Similar to cystic acne, hard and encapsulated and uncomfortable to sleep on. Different in that Vitamin A is unlikely to serve as an efficacious treatment.

no subject

Did sylladexes stop existing?