Okay, so this is my first homestuck story. Its going to be a real-world school AU. For character introductions leading up to going to the school, it will be essentially in the same format as the original story as not to deviate too far from canon characterization and events. It was really easy to copy and paste, so most of the text of first chapters will belong to Andrew Hussie, with minor changes. So, i guess if you really read homestuck you don't need to read the first 4 chapters. Homestuck belongs to Andrew Hussie.

A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, August 26th, is this young man's first day at his new school. What will the name of this young man be?


What else did you think it would be?

His name is JOHN. As was previously mentioned it is his FIRST DAY. A number of CLOTHES are scattered about his room. He has a variety of INTERESTS. He has a passion for REALLY TERRIBLE MOVIES. He likes to program computers but he is NOT VERY GOOD AT IT. He has a fondness for PARANORMAL LORE, and is an aspiring AMATEUR MAGICIAN and SMOKE PELLETS. You also like to play GAMES sometimes. He is looking for his FAKE ARMS which are located in his MAGIC CHEST to pack for his LUGGAGE for BOARDING SCHOOL. JOHN reads a note left on his drawer. This note is rich with the aromas of FATHERLY AFTERSHAVES AND COLOGNES. The note reads:



Beside the note is a ROLLED UP POSTER. Another GOODBYE ARTIFACT. He wonders what is printed on the poster. He'll need some way to hang it on his dorm wall. He acquires a nail and hammer. They will come in handy. He guesses it doesn't hurt to try. In any case, he now feels like he has gathered enough things to get down to business and do some really important stuff. The next thing he does will probably be exceptionally meaningful. He feels the sudden urge to squawk like an imbecile and shit on his desk. He recognizes that is STUPID STUPID STUPID and the worst idea he has had all week… And yet, the polished surface of his desk… it beckons.

He decides to just nail the poster now. It is revealed to be a Little Monsters poster. It's glorious. The old man really came through this time. He examines his calendar. He's marked his first day, the 26th of August. The other day he marked was supposed to be the arrival date of his official acceptance letter to the highly touted SBURB ACADEMY.

He hears a notice from his COMPUTER. Someone is messaging him. He pulls up to his COMPUTER. This is where he spends most of his time. He decorated his desktop with some rather handsome WALLPAPER which he made himself. He is really proud of it.

His desktop is also littered with various PROGRAMMING PROJECT FILES. He is so bad at programming sometimes he wonders why he even bothers with it.

His PESTERCHUM application is flashing. Someone is trying to get in touch with him.

- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:13 -

TG: hey so what sort of insane loot did you rake in today

EB: i got a little monsters poster, it's so awesome. i'm going to watch it again today, after i get to school. the applejuice scene was so funny.

TG: oh hell that is such a coincidence i just found an unopened container of apple juice in my closet it is like fucking christmas up in here

EB: ok thats fine, but i just have one question and then a word of caution. have you ever seen a movie called little monsters starring howie mandel and fred savage?

TG: but

TG: the seal on the bottle is unbroken

TG: are you suggesting someone put piss in my apple juice at the factory

EB: all im saying is don't you think monster howie mandel has the power to do something as simple as reseal a bottle?

EB: try using your brain numbnuts.

TG: why did the fat kid or whoever drank it know what piss tasted like

TG: i mean his reaction was nigh instantaneous

EB: it was the 15th day in a row howie mandel peed in his juice.

TG: ok i can accept that

TG: monster B-list celebrity douchebags are cunning and persistent pranksters

TG: also fred savage has a really punchable face

TG: but who cares about this lets stop talking about it

TG: did you get your letters yet

EB: no. its near here anyways, so it doesnt really matter when i get it.

EB: did you?

TG: man i got two copies already

TG: did you see how it got slammed on tumblr?

EB: tumblr is a joke and we both know it.

TG: yeah

TG: why dont you go check your mail maybe its there now

EB: alright.

The little red arm-swingy-dealy thing or whatever it is called is flipped up!

What the hell is that thing called anyway. He does not have time for these semantics. The red flippy-lever thing means he has new mail. And that means the letter might be here! He is about to hurry down stairs when he hears a car pull into the driveway. It looks like his DAD has returned from the grocery store. Oh great. He is beating JOHN to the mail.

If JOHN goes down stairs to get it, DAD will likely monopolize hours of his time. He decides to chill out up here for a while until the dust settles.

Sometimes he feels like he is trapped in this room. Stuck, if you will, in a sense which possibly borders on the titular.

And now his chum is pestering him again. The clockwork of friendship turns ceaselessly, operating the swing-lever dealies of harassment in perpetuity!

Whatever. The dude can just hold his damn horses. In a moment of anger, John accidently re-captchalouges his arms again. He decided to change his pesterchum status. He doesn't think the situation is quite dire enough to go all the way to "RANCOROUS", but he still feels the PESTERCHUM client should reflect his mood change in some way.

"BULLY" will have to do. He guesses. This unsurprisingly does nothing whatsoever.

Oh, right, you forgot your chum is still pestering you.

TG: is it there

TG: plz say yes

TG: maybe you can see TT there shes been pestering me all day about it

TG: shes mackin on me so hard all the time i start to feel embarrassed for her

TG: i mean not that i can blame her or anything

EB: yes, it is understandable because you are really attractive. i am attracted to you.

TG: thank you

EB: jk haha.

EB: no, i don't have it yet.

EB: my dad has the mail and i guess i have to go get it from him and see if it's there.

John stuck the FAKE ARMS in the CAKE on his bed. This definitely makes the CAKE at least 300% more hilarious. He's sure everyone would know the precise index of elevated hilarity.

John checks tumblr for the article on SBURB ACADEMY. His favorite blog is hetaheart, by far.

"So Okay. SBURB is this school that a lot of cats seem hella pumped of. And this brochure is sitting on my desk for review, so i'm like yeah i'll write something…" The rest is unintelligible gibberish. I'm not going to type five paragraphs of that. Basically they said it sucks.

John combines his BEAGLE PUSS with his MAGICIAN'S HAT to create a CLEVER DISGUISE. John? Who is this "John" you speak of? You are quite certain there has never been, nor ever will be... Yeah, this is a really shitty disguise.

He goes out of his room and downstairs. The accursed odor of fresh baking wafts into his newfound nostrils. Something is brewing in the KITCHEN. It must be the connivings of his arch nemesis, BETTY CROCKER, and the rich, buttery aroma of her plot stinks to high heaven. This mission is going to be more difficult than he imagined.

He checks out the shelves of FANCIFUL HARLEQUINS. Look at this fucking garbage. He hates this stuff. Funny is funny, but your DAD sure can be a real cornball. Sometimes at night John prays for burglars.

John adds his father's pipe to his CLEVER DISGUISE. He then examines the OVERSIZED GIFT in the living room. It reads:




Contemplating what could be inside this package is sort of exciting, but it makes him a little nervous at the same time. Oh hell no.

Its a massive HARLEQUIN DOLL. John just got another BRILLIANT idea for something to do with those pointless arms. He prys them out of the CAKE in his room and captchalogues them.

Looks like PESTERCHUM is acting up again. A new friend is contacting him...

TT: I understand you have recently come into possession of the invitation letter from "The School of the Year", as featured in respectable periodicals such as reliable Tumblr blogs.

EB: that's an ugly rumor.

EB: whoever told you that is a filthy liar.

EB: and you should probably stop hitting on him all the time or whatever.

TT: I can't control myself.

TT: I must have a weakness for insufferable pricks.

EB: anyway i still haven't checked the mail, my dad has it.

EB: i'm trying to go get it from him, so brb

TT: John.

EB: what?

TT: You're wearing one of your disguises now, aren't you?

TT: You are typing to me right now while wearing something ridiculous.

EB: no, why would you even think that?

EB: that's so stupid.

TT: Ok.

TT: Why don't you go get the letter from your father?

EB: alright, wish me luck.

EB: oh, btw...

EB: jk I was wearing a funny disguise this whole time.

EB: gotcha! hehehehe

TT: I know, John.

The door on the left leads to the KITCHEN, from which the smell of baking wafts - a powerful aroma which could lift an especially portly hobo off his feet. The door on the right leads to the STUDY, where John's DAD spends a lot of time. He could be in either room. John went to the study. On the desk is a DECK OF PLAYING CARDS, one of his DAD'S PIPES, and the August issue of THE SERIOUS JESTER magazine. There is also a CAN OF PEANUTS on the desk. Ha ha, oh DAD. John won't be falling for THAT one again any time soon.

A severe peanut allergy is a terrible affliction to cope with.

John's DAD maintains numerous pipes around the household. A father without a pipe is like a strapping roughneck without a toothpick. That is to say, HE IS A RATHER PISS-POOR EXCUSE FOR A ROUGHNECK IF YOU ASK ME. He'd rather not take the PIPE, though. The first one tastes bad enough as it is.

How John suffers for his comedy.

In sorrow, John plays a haunting piano refrain. He plays the prankster's favorite card game, 52 Pick-Up even though he is alone in the room, thus rendering it an especially foolish version of Solitaire. SO STUPID. Look at this mess. The peanut gallery over there sure is getting a kick out of it. John is allergic to their scorn. Them and their taunting joker faces.

John goes back into the LIVING ROOM and contemplates checking the mailbox outside. He thinks perhaps he should exhaust all possibilities before plunging headlong into a DAD encounter. His TELEVISION is currently airing a COMMERCIAL.

John goes outside and checks the mailbox. Predictably, the mailbox is empty. He had already been scooped by his father. 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 first day of highschool, and as with the two schools preceding it, something feels missing from your life. The school 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. Yes, you are certain Walt Whitman said that. One hundred percent positive.

You have a feeling it's going to be a long day...

(at the school not too long after)

John looks at his invitation in his hand.

~After a strife-full emotional goodbye with his DAD, the proud father easily handed his son his acceptance letter. He drove his son to SBURB Academy, which is no less than an hour away from their beautiful northwestern home. Americans don't usually get into this school, so his father was even prouder of his nerd of a son than he is every other day. His son and his foreign connections got him and his friends an eligible spot. They all had easily passed entrance exams, and are all set to attend the prestigious boarding school on this glorious August 26th.