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The hands of a single clock ticked second by second, marking the passage of time that would never be recovered. This was no ordinary clock; it was perfectly timed, marking the universal flow of temporality. This clock would tell you exactly what time it was and always be accurate.
Because time is an imaginary construct with no true objective means of measurement, this is in fact a completely ordinary clock. But, of course, in a land of imaginary constructs, it's hard to say anything is really objective. People just keep making things up. It's really kind of troublesome for any investigating scientists.
Anyways, this clock was completely ordinary, and it was a complete coincidence that the world shook as all three hands clicked into place on the 12. Considering the number of clocks in the world, it was bound to happen somewhere.
This moment marked the dawn of a new day, and a very remarkable one at that. More importantly, it marked the forging of a very powerful artifact, one of hope and despair and unfathomable amounts of stray eventualities.
It also marked a day where a lot of people completely failed to die, surprisingly enough. Something that might have been apocalyptic happened, and a bunch of people didn't even die to mark the importance of the event. Honestly, can't these morons get anything right?
-:-:-
A young fandom stands in his bedroom.
More accurately, he rests in his recuperacoon, snoring quietly and remaining completely comatose as he cradles a plush dragon to his chest. He's been doing that a lot lately. Lots of bed rest has been prescribed to avoid another hiatus mishap, because that whole Trickster nonsense was complete bullshit and never to be repeated. Seriously. Fuck that.
The young fandom is sound asleep and terminally ill, though he insists on putting an asterisk after that. After all, being terminally ill* means that terms and conditions apply, and he has no intention of actually dying. Dying is kind of dumb. Just because his story is ending doesn't mean that he's going to vanish.
That said, the Gigaupdate is a daunting thing that is going to happen, and it is as inevitable as character death, title drops, and horse jokes.
Narrative: Switch to a more conventional writing style. This is dumb.
You know what? I'm not even mad. I don't care. Whatever. This can be a boring regular story.
==>
Homestuck stirred from a dream of bizarre narration and possible foreshadowing, slapping at his blaring alarm. Why had he installed that thing? It didn't even sound like an alarm, it sounded more like…
"Doorbell," he muttered, rubbing slime out of his hair. "Right. Don't have an alarm."
Who the hell was ringing his doorbell? It was like six in the morning. Or seven. Or nine. It was definitely before noon. Probably.
The time was clearly unreasonable for waking up.
He didn't have a headache, to his surprise and gratitude. He usually woke up with a headache, especially now that he was getting sparse amounts of new material and having very low output of fanworks. Hiatus had done a number on him, and his personal power set was very limited.
He had taken to sleeping in a recuperacoon instead of a bed, seeking respite and easy sleep. That had helped considerably. Still, he wasn't about to eat the sopor or a bunch of mind honey to get rid of a few headaches.
That would be a very bad idea.
"Huh," Homestuck said, shaking himself off and crawling out into the world. "Not a bad start."
Of course he talked to himself. Who didn't talk to themselves? Talking to himself let him bounce ideas around and consider the length of his lifespan in relation to enacting them. It wasn't his fault that he was the best and most consistently present person around to talk to.
"Update?" Homestuck asked himself. All fandoms had an internal update checker, among other things. It imparted useful information on the status of their material and their creators.
No update. No word from Hussie.
Happy 4/13.
He blinked.
Was it his birthday?
"Well, shit," Homestuck said, glancing at the calendar. Sure enough, a green circle beckoned around April the 13th, the date that corresponded to the present. "Happy birthday, me."
Which explained the lack of a headache and the person who was still ringing his doorbell. His abilities were being boosted, he was getting birthday fanart and lots of attention - Homestuck was more powerful than he had been for months.
Grinning, Homestuck flexed his hands, summoning up abilities he hadn't used in what felt like years. His expansive repertoire of powers [which were definitely not magic] was once again at his clawtips.
Ridiculously fast cosplay-making. Let's see if this still works…
That manifested as editing his sprite, changing his appearance as he tried on all the outfits Hussie had to offer in an update. He couldn't do anything too elaborate this time; all he needed was to be presentable as he answered the door.
With a whoosh, Homestuck flicked back to his regular sprite, vanishing his coating of slime and his pajamas. Grinning widely, he straightened his shirt to better show off his gleaming green symbol.
Oh, yes. Now this was a day he was ready to face.
Around then was when his window exploded.
Homestuck shrieked, captchaloguing the nearest thing in reach and whipping out his sickles. A bottle of Faygo went flying out of his sylladex, crashing into the wall and sending fizzy red goodness flying everywhere.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Home," yelled a familiar voice. "If you're not going to answer your door, you could at least not assault me when I break into your office!"
Oh, yeah. That guy.
"Sleuth?" Homestuck demanded, lowering his weapons. "What the hell?"
Problem Sleuth poked his head through the window, grinning at him. "Hey there, little brother."
"You could have just opened it, you know," Homestuck muttered. "What are you even standing on? I don't have a fire escape there."
"A monstrous beast," Sleuth said. "You wouldn't believe how many of those I find wandering around. I think I might have summoned this one, actually, it's not even trying to eat me."
"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."
"Yeah," Sleuth said. "Hey, is your office imaginary? I don't want to be liquified or whatever when I come inside. Gotta save those imaginary lives."
"I don't have an office, I have a house," Homestuck said.
"Whatever. Is it imaginary?"
"…Maybe?"
Sleuth sighed. "Yeah, let's not risk it. Unless you want a skull for your birthday?"
"Maybe next year," Homestuck said, approaching the window. "How is everyone?"
"JB and BQ are the usual," Sleuth said. "Haven't seen the big man around. Intermission is busy, but she sent her present with me. Bro is…"
"Happening?" Homestuck suggested.
"Happening," Sleuth agreed. "So. The big O-five, huh?"
"Yep," he said. "No update yet. Still hoping."
"Yeah. Well, hope it comes soon."
"Me too. Sorta."
"Don't you worry about your story ending," Sleuth advised. "Your fandom is massive. Kind of scary, actually. You'll get through it just fine."
Homestuck smiled. "Thanks. I hope so."
"I know so." The detective grinned, pulling something out of his inventory. "Check it out. Intermission and I got you something."
Curious, Homestuck shredded the wrapping paper and retrieved his prize. "A hat?"
"Not just a hat," Sleuth said.
"Two hats?" He peered at them, noting the identical green stripe on black hat-fabric. "Are these the exact same hat?"
"Yep," Sleuth said. "I got you a hat. Intermission got you a backup hat. And there's something else!"
"Is it in the hat?"
"Obviously."
Homestuck fished around in one, then the other, and finally retrieved a couple of blue candies. "Oh, hell yes."
"Those weird arrow command candies," Sleuth said. "Know you like them. Save 'em for the update. Maybe even the final boss. Something really noteworthy."
"Damn right," he said, leaning forward to embrace his brother. "Thanks, man."
"No problem!" Sleuth said cheerfully. "Stay hardboiled!"
And with that, he flicked out of existence, vanishing back to his fort.
Homestuck captchalogued one of the hats, putting the other on his head. This day was getting better and better already.
The world hadn't even ended before noon.
-:-:-
Someone had gotten the bright idea of throwing his present through his broken window [probably Harry Potter, considering the way it halted in midair and flopped politely on his lap]. That had, of course, inspired a lot of people to do the same thing, and all of those people were unfortunately Muggles.
"Damn it, PS," Homestuck muttered, flinching as yet another birthday gift crashed unceremoniously and loudly into his room. "You could have just opened it."
He had gotten a lot of cool stuff, though. Adventure Time had gotten him a sweet sword, SNK had gotten him an awesome cape that reminded him of his precious three-in-the-morning dress, and MLP had gotten him a beaded friendship bracelet with all twelve colours of the hemospectrum. Eragon had gotten him an awesome dragon model and Night Vale had gotten him a drawing of a cat with four eyes, with an attached apology about not being able to take a picture of the cat and a tip that the drawing might spontaneously become an actual cat. Avengers had given him a broken bow and a card with a horse on the cover and caw caw, motherfuckers written in it, which struck him as really good-natured and clever of them.
So yes, he was definitely raking in the loot, and he was damned pleased about it. And yes, he was accessorizing the shit out of this birthday.
Homestuck was considering the benefits and drawbacks of wearing the rainbow bracelet with a badass cape and bright green striped hat when a familiar noise filled the room.
That would be the TARDIS, carrying more free stuff and a bunch of assholes attached to it. Assholes he liked, though.
"Happy birthday!" Hetalia declared as soon as the Police Box opened, leaping over a pile of gifts and beaming as he presented an ornate cake.
Homestuck grinned, inwardly wondering at how maneuverable his moirail was while carrying inordinate amounts of food. "Hey, Heta."
Three other fandoms approached close behind him. Supernatural was scanning his new stuff with an inquisitive eye, holding a bunch of shitty party cups and plates; Doctor Who was smiling brightly and wishing him a very happy birthday, holding a cake-cutter and a lighter; and Sherlock was hanging back at the edge of the group, waiting for the others to greet him and tracing the edges of five candles.
"Hi, guys," Homestuck said, waving. "Here to give me a bunch of cool junk?"
"That we are!" Who agreed. "And to eat cake. Maybe not in here, though."
Nat snorted. "Definitely not in here. This place is a death trap waiting to happen."
"Thanks," Homestuck said. He even meant it a little. Nat didn't label something a death trap lightly.
Hetalia bobbed his head. "So, should we open presents or eat cake first?"
Something came flying in through the window, narrowly missing Sherlock as he ducked out of the way.
"Happy birthday!" called Minecraft.
"Stop throwing shit in my room!" Homestuck yelled, chucking a bar of soap out at the offender. "And thanks!"
"Oh, I didn't know we throw things at each other on anniversaries," Nat said. "I think I could get behind that kind of birthday tradition."
"Aren't you a pioneer of novelty today," Sherlock said. "Here. I believe the usual practice is just handing it to you."
He offered him a box, stuffing it into his hands and retreating to a safe distance. Sherlock had never been big on touching, especially not in things like celebrations.
"Thanks," Homestuck said, shaking the box curiously. It made a dull thumping noise. "Are any of these going to blow up in my face?"
"Only if you're really stupid," Nat said. "So yeah, maybe."
"Fuck you too, Nattie."
"Hey, you asked."
"Don't worry," Hetalia murmured, setting down the cake on his desk. "Who and I helped them pick out presents."
Homestuck captchalogued the cake, nodding. "Good thinking. Nat's awful at gifts."
"I am not," he grumbled.
"You always get people some kind of weapon or something really weird that's only worth the sentimental value you assume someone'll have for it."
"It's a metaphor," Who said, and Nat threw a plastic cup at his head. For bringing back that stupid meme, Homestuck might have thrown something too, but all he had was a bunch of gifts that would remain firmly unthrown.
Hetalia patted his shoulder. "Come on, Home, you're getting free stuff. Don't complain about the stuff being weird."
Homestuck muttered something disparaging, and Nat raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you complaining about getting weapons? Maybe you should return that broken bow or the sword you have there."
Damn it, that wasn't a bad point. "Those are references, dipshit. Or the bow is. The sword is just badass. And you forgot the broom."
"Who got you a broom?" Hetalia asked.
"Potter, obviously," Sherlock said.
"Obviously?"
"It's in the same described style as the Firebolt and is not designed for actual sweeping in any way," he said. "And it's floating."
Homestuck looked over his shoulder to see his new broom hovering a ways above the ground. "Cool. I was just planning on using it to hit people. Wonder if I can fly on that thing?"
"Let's go downstairs," Who suggested. "We can get this cake set up and open presents there."
Everyone immediately headed for the TARDIS. There was a certain rule among people like them that when one has a TARDIS, one does not take the stairs.
-:-:-
Homestuck poked his new watch. "So this thing will recalibrate to the current time whenever I time travel?"
That was kind of weird, considering the lack of an objective temporal scale setting in place, but he wasn't complaining. Who could whip up some damned cool tech for his birthday.
"That's right," Who said. "It's annoying, always having to ask what time or year it is. Also great for procrastinating."
Man, he wanted to try this thing out, but his timetables were off somewhere that was definitely not here. "Wow. Thanks, man."
Sherlock had gotten him a new violin. A really nice violin, too. He was already planning a kickass Rose cosplay with it - maybe he'd play a rousing chorus of Showtime. The possibilities were endless.
Nat, on the other hand, had gotten him weapons. That was unsurprising. Homestuck had been delighted to discover that he had in fact gotten him dual-wield flintlock pistols, and had spent almost five minutes backflipping off of things while pulling some great double pistols and a wink.
He had also almost shot Nat in the foot, completely by accident. Yes. Definitely by accident, even though it had happened directly after a snide remark about his performance and the shittiness of Will Smith. That asshole clearly didn't know what he was talking about.
Supernatural had just thrown a knife at his head and narrowly missed in response, anyways, so they were even. For now. He wouldn't hesitate to actually shoot him if he insulted Will Smith again.
After the possible fight had been defused, Hetalia had offered him his gift, which turned out to be a number of things. A tube of face paint, a bicycle horn, a horse figurine, a pendant with a pink diamond on it, an empty can, a copy of Con Air, a box of chalk…
Oh, yes, he was so glad he had Heta around. For all that the stuff looked like useless junk, it warmed his heart. So many references, such a little package.
Now they were all settled around the table, eating cake and drinking their personal drinks. Homestuck and Nat had brought their own, those being gloriously awful soda and a few cans of beer respectively.
It was almost peaceful, which was surprising. Nat had toned down the hostility enough to snark in a semi-friendly way, and even to laugh at a few of his jokes. Who was pointedly not mentioning it for fear of his good behaviour ceasing to apply.
Still, Homestuck had never been good at leaving things alone. He couldn't resist poking things. It was in his nature.
"This doesn't seem like your kind of thing," he said to Nat. "But you actually seem functionally unawkward. What gives?"
Supernatural shrugged. "Moral of the story. Hard to get around it, you know?"
"Not really," Hetalia said. "But then again, my story doesn't have just one moral."
"Your story doesn't even have a plotline," Who said.
"My story brought about HetaOni."
All of them winced at the mention of that.
"Seriously, you're weirding me out," Homestuck said.
"That's the plan," Nat said. "Sit here and weird you out. I don't see what the problem is."
"Right," Homestuck said. "Would I get this if I had watched your show?"
"No," Nat said.
"Yes," Sherlock said.
"Yeah, it's kind of hard to miss," Nat agreed. "Even you'd get it."
"Ah. Okay." Homestuck looked at Who. "You watched his show?"
"Yep," Who said. "Someone had to watch all the shows and read all the pages of everyone else. That ended up being me, because you shitheads would have skipped Nine."
"I wouldn't," Homestuck protested.
"You might not have," Who agreed. "But then you'd have to watch Nat's show, too, and think about it in meaningful ways."
"I did watch it."
"You skipped to season four and watched three episodes," Nat muttered. "That isn't watching."
"Like you're one to talk! You skipped to Cascade and then complained about not understanding jack shit!"
"I pride myself on one-upmanship."
"Anyways, it wasn't Hetalia because his short episodes gave him too limited of an attention span to handle hour-long episodes," Who said. "But he did manage to pull off your webcomic somehow. I don't understand that at all."
"Calling it a short attention span isn't really accurate," Hetalia said. "It's just really disjointed."
"He actually understands the storyline," Homestuck said proudly. "His information intake and capacity for weird-ass bullshit is awesome."
"A match made in Baskerville," Sherlock said dryly.
"Alright, smart guy, why aren't you the expert on everyone here?" Homestuck demanded. "Seems right up your alley."
"I am the expert," Sherlock said. "I just didn't want to waste that much time on watching and reading material that won't tell me anything I don't already know."
"Actually, it's because he would watch all of it in one go," Who said. "All of it. That's bad enough with Heta and Nat having multiple seasons, and worse when Homestuck gets involved, but when you think about going all the way back to the First Doctor…"
Nat winced. "Good call."
"He's not the guy who watches our shows on account of him not being allowed to starve to death," Who said. "So yeah, it ended up being me. Thanks, assholes."
"You did get hot actors out of it," Nat said.
"There were a lot of hot actors involved," Who agreed. "And, oddly enough, the non-actor characters eventually begin to look attractive as you get used to the medium."
"Thanks," Heta said, and Homestuck winked.
"So yeah, I've watched Nat's show," Who said, winking back when no one else was looking. "Why do you ask?"
"What's the moral of his dumb story?"
"Other than when life stabs you in the chest, get up and stab it back?" Who asked. "All that family stuff. Your family is the one you choose, not the one you're born with; and when shit goes down, family is what you can count on."
Homestuck raised an eyebrow. "So why's he being nice-ish to me? Am I part of the family, too?"
"Of course," Who said.
"You're that one weird cousin who froths at the mouth and eats bugs," Nat said. "It really would be nicer to just shoot you, but it would upset the other relatives."
"Wow, that almost sounded sincere," Homestuck said. "Are you sure we aren't bros? Don't you have that human issue with incest?"
Who sighed and clapped his hand on his forehead.
"Incest doesn't apply when one of you is actually another species," Sherlock said, and he said it with a straight face. "Obviously."
Another hand clapped next to the first.
"Nice facepalm combo," Homestuck said.
"I'm being narratively forced into familial bonding with you," Nat said. "What's your excuse for being less of an asshole?"
Good question.
"Too busy getting free stuff," Homestuck said.
"And maybe a little bit of the human emotion called friendship," Hetalia said, smiling at him. "Yeah?"
"Maybe a little," Homestuck said, grinning back.
Silence settled in around the table, and he took the opportunity to sip his bottle of Faygo. Mmm, lime.
"…Friendship isn't an emotion," Nat said finally, throwing up his hands. "Why the fuck am I listening to this? It's not a fucking emotion!"
Homestuck burst out laughing, almost falling over as he choked on his soda. Heta patted his arm gently as he reached for the napkins.
"What?" Nat demanded.
"Friendship isn't an emotion, fucknuts," Homestuck wheezed, barely getting it out in his giggle-ridden coughing fit. "You said the thing. That was almost a direct quote. Beautiful."
"Right," Nat said. "Sure. Remind me why I haven't shot the weird, diseased cousin yet?" he asked, directing the question at Who. "Granted, the thing's not being hostile, but he's sure as hell being annoying."
"Because you're taking a day off and reminding each other that there is, in fact, more to your existence than being violent," Who said, retrieving his face from his repeated forehead-slapping. "And because we're trying to have a nice party, not a makeout brawl session."
"Also because you'd hog all of Homestuck's attention," Heta added. "We're all paying attention to him today, not just you, so share."
Nat didn't look convinced.
"Because it's my birthday and I'm ridiculously overpowered today?" Homestuck suggested, wiping green fizz off his chin with the back of his hand. "And because you're all secretly preventing me from ending the world or whatever?"
"I make a living off of killing overpowered people in-universe," Nat said. "Don't make me laugh."
"There is zero chance that I'm not going to kick your ass," Homestuck said flatly. "None. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Squat. The percentage has ceased to be. It is an ex-percentage. Someday I'll die and show you through my quirk exactly how much of a chance of winning you have here. So unless you're offering a free session of me wiping the floor with you as a bonus present…"
Heta sighed, shaking his head. "Why do you guys always do this?"
"He started it," Homestuck muttered.
"I did not," Nat said. "You were the one who made the challenge. Calling yourself overpowered and whatever."
"And you were the one who started threatening, so don't even -"
Hetalia patted him on the side of the head, maybe a little harder than he had to. "Shush. Both of you. Sherlock, can you quiet Nat down?"
Sherlock, who was sitting beside the fuming fandom, whacked Nat on the back of the head with something. A deerstalker, Homestuck realized. Where had he gotten a deerstalker?
"Ow," Nat grumbled, grabbing at the hat. "Give me that."
"Shut up," Sherlock advised, holding it out of his reach.
The hat swirled out of existence as Sherlock returned his attention to the cake on his plate, leaving Nat surprised and Homestuck gobsmacked.
"You can manifest items?" Homestuck demanded. "Since when?"
"Oh, that's what that was," Nat said, frowning. "I didn't know you could do that for hats."
"You can manifest shit?"
"Many fandoms can manifest things," Who said, tilting his head curiously. "Can't you manifest new outfits and things like that?"
"You manifest clothes," Nat said. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Oh," Homestuck said, frowning. "That's manifestation? I thought that was just a side effect of being fucking fantastic at making awesome cosplays really fast."
"So you do manifest outfits?" Hetalia asked.
"Yeah," he said. "Among other things. All my stuff has to be canonical, though. What about you guys?"
"Functional items," Sherlock said, swirling a phone into existence with a flick of his fingers. "Very handy."
"He summons taxis sometimes," Nat said. "He actually just manifests a taxi whenever he needs one. You have no idea how long it took me to figure that out."
Supernatural raised a hand, a small knife appearing in it. "Pretty simple: I get weapons. All sorts of weapons. Sometimes I can get an angel blade."
"Typical," Homestuck said. "What about you, Doc?"
"Actually, I don't manifest much outside of canon items," Who said. "I can disrupt manifestations made by other fandoms. Cool, huh?"
Homestuck grinned. "Can you disrupt Night Vale's manifestations?"
"No one can disrupt Night Vale's manifestations," Who said. "I'd probably just get eaten if I tried."
Hetalia clapped his hands. "Alright, good! We've all learned something new about each other!"
"Wait, can you manifest anything?" Nat asked.
"Food," Hetalia said.
"Really fucking good food," Homestuck said. "And it doesn't disappear, either. You can eat it and everything."
Who whistled. "Did you manifest the cake?"
"No," Heta said. "I made that one by hand, because someone is going to manifest a bunch of party games, and I don't want everyone to have something I manifested in their stomachs if I get drunk."
"Good plan," Nat said. "Can anyone manifest party games?"
"I have a couple," Homestuck said, pulling them out of his sylladex. "Hungry Hungry Hippos, the Game of Life, this weird Sudoku cube - where the hell did I get this shit, anyways? I bet it was Sleuth."
"Those aren't party games."
"This is a party and we're playing the games, so fuck you, they're party games."
"I can manifest more," Sherlock said. "One question, though."
"Shoot," Homestuck said.
"Is Merlin supposed to be hiding under your table?"
-:-:-
"Why the hell was that guy under my table?" Homestuck muttered.
After a lot of shouting, swearing, and general disgruntled scrambling around, the group had managed to scare Merlin out from under the table and into the kitchen. There he had thrown a present at Homestuck [a bunch of coloured contact lenses, which he had to admit was awesome] and absconded through the window.
He still didn't know why he had been there in the first place, but whatever.
The rest of the party had been great. The five of them had engaged in a game of Twister [which he had won], strip poker [which Nat had won, but only because he cheated], and full-contact Hungry Hungry Hippos [which Hetalia had won, obviously]. Sherlock had kicked their asses at Clue, which surprised no one, and also at Charades, which surprised most of them. Who had won everything else. Absolutely everything.
They had then watched Con Air, and he had failed to get Sherlock drunk enough to sing the best song in the fucking universe with him. Nat had helped with that, if only because he wanted to film it.
Homestuck had also learned that Nat was a pretty competent prankster, and that his Egbert-borne prowess at pranking had actually impressed the douchewing angel-fucker. That was interesting. Maybe they had more in common than he had thought.
The day was ending, so much free shit was now his, and he was exhausted. That had been a pretty good birthday.
Of course, the sound of a portal opening reminded him that his birthday wasn't over until 4/13 was, and it wasn't quite midnight yet.
Raising his new flintlock pistols [he really liked the pistols, though he wasn't about to tell Nat that] he approached the portal.
"Hello, Homestuck," said the portal.
A figure stepped through it, light glinting off his Sepulchritude shirt and his weird, orange skin. Mouthless, noseless, the figure stared down at him in a very paternal way.
Maybe enough to make him a paternal figure.
"Hi, dad," Homestuck said.
Hussie smiled at him, though that was more in the movement of his eyes than an actual mouth. "Big day, huh? Landmark moment. I brought you something."
There was something in his hand, something that glowed brilliantly behind his fingers. Just being near it gave him the shivers.
"Is it…" Homestuck reached towards it tentatively. "Is it the update?"
"No," said Hussie.
"Oh."
"The update is a long ways off," said Hussie. "This is something else. It's pretty awesome, though."
"…I guess that's for the best," Homestuck said. "I don't think I'm ready to be over yet."
Hussie, to his surprise, just laughed. "Oh, man, I knew I got you the right gift."
He opened his hand to reveal a ring.
Like many rings, it was a slim band of gold with a series of orbs fixed to it. Unlike most of them, there were two such orbs, one larger than the other, and the light around the ring burned with black and green as well as gold and white. It felt like the world revolved around the ring.
"What is it?" Homestuck breathed.
"This is a comic," Hussie said. "A comic by the name of Paradox Space."
"A mini-update?" he asked, heart leaping.
"Yeah, kinda," Hussie said. "Of course, it'll update again tomorrow. And again the day after that. And all of the weekdays after that."
Homestuck's jaw dropped.
"Oh, and it'll keep updating after the Gigaupdate, too," he added. "I got a bunch of other artists in on it. You see it here as the Ring of Space."
A strangled noise came out of his throat.
Hussie grinned in that weird eye-way of his. "Thought you'd like it."
Homestuck shrieked, all but tackling his creator in a hug. "I'm gonna live! I'm unkillable!"
He was never going to end. He was immortal.
Damn right, Homestuck was terminally ill*, because this was one hell of an asterisk.
Still screeching, he accepted the ring, sliding it on his finger. In that moment, he wouldn't have been surprised if a shockwave of green flattened the world.
"Happy birthday, son," Hussie said, patting his shoulder and shedding a single tear. Ironically, of course. "I am so, so proud of you."
Oh, yes. This was a good birthday. Sure, he had spent time with a lot of people he cared about, but he had gotten a lot of free presents, which was what really mattered.
Not really. That would be a terrible moral. Still, the presents were pretty great.
Homestuck watched as Hussie vanished back into the portal. His screech trailed off, and wordlessly, he popped one of his blue command arrow candies into his mouth.
This was, after all, a moment of great relevance.