Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It often feels strange to sit on what can quite literally be the edge of the universe. He’s slumped in a car, with Terezi’s face washing over his limited and blurry vision. He can’t say much. Or maybe he refuses to exert himself in these last moments. This is really the first time he actually feels the wash of death over him. Not to toot his horn as the narrator yet overall omnipotent God (who chose to take time out of their day to tell his tale) but I’m quite sure he’ll die a heroic death.

It’s funny; he thinks, that we automatically think we’re narcissists the moment we recognise something we’ve done for the good. He closes his eyes after uttering his last words. We’ve all read The Epilogues, we all know what happened in this moment, did we not? If so, I don’t see why we should continue recounting those events.

Let’s move on to the actual reason I brought you all here today.

==>

Chapter Text

This timeline is clearly over. Or at the very least, it is for John. Let’s not focus on the canon for a second. By technicality, anything that is possible and at the same time impossible can count as canon and non-canon. Homestuck has always been meta, besides political. But I’ll just keep it simple this time around.

What happened to the other Johns? In their timelines, do they succeed? What happens to those forgotten, those doomed right at the end? Do you think some of them manage to escape Paradox Space’s systematic erasure? It wouldn’t be fair to say that there’s never a way to escape anything and anyone (hence quite literally running away from L*rd E*glish), so it would be a fair theory (which again, within the meta context would be possible) to say that there are some that didn’t run away from him. Some that were doomed from the very beginning, and most importantly: some that escaped the gruesome fate of getting ass-fucked by Big Daddy Paradox Space.

Talking about this reminds me why my closest friends bully me for sounding like a Dirk Kinnie. Essentially, you could say I’m writing about another timeline’s John and his reactions and actions.

Let’s not forget that the one that just died after fucking in a car wasn’t truly ‘their John’, as the original John Egbert (and I suppose Roxy for that matter) were both from another timeline entirely. Terezi’s ‘actual John’ got boiled by his Denizen for what was pretty much the ‘greater good’.

So let’s get down to it.

What is another self-fulfilled John Egbert doing while some version of him just died? Time to take a look.

==> Observe the other potential and essentially existent universes.

Chapter Text

==> Observe the other potential and essentially existent universes.

John Egbert sits at the edge of the round platform. The soft light that comes from the panels shaped like a house looms over him: the door is unopened. He’s alone. Everyone already went in. So much for unopened. His lame excuse to stick around was a cheery ‘I want to welcome everyone!’ Of course. We know for sure that he was depresso espresso the moment we read the Prologue. Consider this: depression is something that slowly builds up over time, a place one ends up in after various traumas and unresolved emotional problems. It’s a fair assumption to say that he was probably already depressed long before the game happened.

We like to think that he’s more oblivious to his own feelings over being in denial about them, but I can’t say I think he’s that emotionally immature. Just because something hasn’t outright been shown in front of the audience doesn’t automatically mean it isn’t true (prime example: Dave Strider and Karkat Vantas being canon even though it was expressed after Homestuck ended and before any off-spring of the cancer we know as Homestuck existed).

What I’m saying is, John is sitting at the edge of the universe thinking about all the things he should have been telling his closest friends instead of bottling up like a dumbass. He ought to have told Dave; but he gets the feeling he would have become the stick in his wheel seeing as how much happier he seemed to be presently. On his way to recovery, he thinks. John has always backpedaled on this sort of shit. His friends have had so much more happen to them. Although you and I both know that comparing traumas is never a good idea since emotions and memories are subjective, abstract things to some degree. Rose was with Kanaya. Jade... was with Davepeta? Or she wasn’t, but she was happy-- happier. So John didn’t say anything.

Everyone else was roped together, Roxy and Calliope, Dave and Karkat, Jade and Jake. He eyed Dirk for a while. He doesn’t know if he’s ever really spoken to him. He hadn’t given him much thought. Maybe he should; maybe he shouldn’t. John had other plans for the moment. Legs dangling off of the edge, slowly rising upwards and floating back to his feet on the empty platform, John decided it was the time to just go.

By technicality, this has already happened, right? It’s in ‘the past’ and ‘why are you talking about this shit?’ well, time is mumbly-jumbly. We view it as linear for our own sanity and to make our lives much easier. Any Timebound will know better than to think that Time was ever linear. Everything that will happen and never happen is happening all at once yet not really. For us John’s experience was in the past, but for him it’s in the present. We really shouldn’t be this Time-phobic, guys.

He walks through the door. Nothing changed there, right? He’s in a new Utopia. But what if instead of churning in his issues until Meat or Candy essentially happened (or in this case never came to be due to his absence) he decided to do something awfully characteristic of him? Go with the wind. Fuck right off the planet. Visit other universes, seeing as he’s capable of going back in Time and Space as he pleases. Or well, whenever he’s managed to control this OP shit powers. Maybe visit other timelines and just watch, visualise. Get to know things about his friends that they never told him. He could look for his dad, but he kind of already found his dad.

With the exception that it isn’t REALLY his dad. Yes but no. You know what I’m talking about. That whole idea sounds kind of creepy now that he thinks about it. It wouldn’t be that bad if he just lurked around though, right? If he knew Dirk any better, he’d even consider stalking all his splinters. It would’ve made for a fun experience. Maybe he could do so near the end, when all is said and done and he’s seen everything he wanted to see and he couldn’t think of anything else.

Chapter Text

So he floats there, in ‘Earth C’s’ atmosphere, and watches as the clouds pass him by. Usually, this high up, he should probably have issues breathing. Not having time to wonder about such a frivolous concept before, he entertains himself with it as he aimlessly wonders about the empty sky. It’s so blue-- almost too blue. Even you could see the tiny perfections (which essentially were imperfect due to how plainly obvious they were) as cracks in this universe’s mask.

Forest green, sandy, navy blue. It looks like his planet after the dinosaur era, or maybe they still are in it? Maybe Dave and Jade haven’t decided to make everyone else fuck off into the future and dally around for the rest of their days. Can’t know for sure; could have easily left John behind and never said a thing at all.

“This is stupid.” thank you for the wonderful commentary, John, you’re very much right. The protagonist lets himself float down with half a fuck to give, seemingly headed for a forest, what is that? Birch? Probably. Let’s face it: he could go anywhere; any time. What’s stopping him from passing time through all this planet’s eras?

Johnathan Egbert may be going headfirst into something right now. What about his friends?

“What about my friends?” mumbled, barely audible. Hands fitted into his pockets, walking about the forest as if he owns it (which he kind of does) and tilting his head when he hears something. Walking around through here may be a bad idea considering the time period, and the fact that civility probably isn’t an invented concept yet.

That’s a good question. What about them? As of right now, John isn’t entirely sure how he should be able to contact his friends seeing as game mechanics don’t apply, well, outside the game. Then again. Why would he really want to talk to them since he already decided to fuck off anyway? If they really cared, they would have waited for him, after all. Maybe he’s just attempting to reason with himself so that he doesn’t have one more reason to start feeling disdain towards the people he grew up with.

At the same time, isn’t he the one who ushered them off and away ahead of him. Sure, he did that, but why did he feel the need to in the first place? Why did he think that was the best option at the time anyway? Had he wanted time alone, or maybe wanted to see if they’d come back and wait for him. John wasn’t all that sure; yet his feet took him aimlessly forwards, until he met the beginning (or end) of the forest. There seemed to be some sort of sign of life at the very least, which was what he was looking for in the first place. Many carapacians swarmed around, setting up base, busying themselves in a somewhat good (yet tired) mood.

He automatically took a step back upon noticing that Jade was flawlessly instructing them. Without even looking, her arms seemed to sway eloquently with bursts of emotion shown on her face, yet her eyes seemed to either be focused elsewhere or unseen from that angle. She’d flied above the entire operation, to make her job as ‘manager’ far easier.

Is this what he wanted to witness? Or take a part in? Was he really interested in working with people he’d actually felt disconnected from for a while? His feet kept moving him about, shifting awkwardly backwards, little by little. Just as he thought, he’d be better off taking the time to get to know himself better; to enjoy his own company. If he really regretted this decision in the end he could’ve always come back to this time, but a bit farther into the future, and merely explained his absence away by pretending to be clumsy.

With that in mind, he let the breeze decide where he should go next, eyes closed and wind leaving the crevasses of his body.

Chapter Text

==> John: ?

Well, seeing as he decided to do this thing on a whim, he hadn’t exactly thought of the location at first. That may be why he brought himself back to where everything began. His house.

More precisely, he landed himself in his childhood home’s tree, having an awkward view of the first floor. There, the John of this time was just turning thirteen, with all his classic shenanigans beginning from there on. How stupid.
... John briefly reminisces over how cool (he thought) it would be to play a game with his three good friends. The insurmountable blatant affection that DAD showed him also crossed from one brain cell to the other. Whatever, he should be focusing on more important things right now. ==> John: untangle your hood. It's stuck in a tree branch. Even while alone, he managed to embarrass himself. Either way, he looked at the driveway and noted that his father had yet to come home.

Was it really a good idea to be stalking his own teenage-boy life like this? Eh, to Hell with that notion. Speaking of ‘to Hell with that notion,’ we’ll also be throwing ‘we shouldn’t steal DAD’s PDA’ to Hell too. Which means he'll be lounging around here for a while and wait for him to get home... Which obviously means...

==> John: prank your younger self epically.

Yeah, this sounds like a very good idea, actually. Why not? Your past self would’ve done it. Let’s see. John can only stick around for so long; keeping in mind the fact that Rose is John’s server player and she’s bound to see him the moment she connects to Little John (well, at worst, that just means he has to abandon the premises, or jump timelines perhaps), so he has to make it quick. Is altering a doomed timeline detrimental he wonders? Probably fucking not, since it’s already doomed, John you moron.

A bucket and some water is all he needs. The good question is where he’s going to place it. Hmm. Maybe if he cracked open the door just slightly. If he remembers right, Little J went downstairs in hopes of seeing if the SBURB BETA was in the kitchen or not. Perfect for John. Well, this is easy enough. Time to break in.

And by breaking in, I mean flying towards the bathroom window and forcing that shit open.

The bucket was found under the sink, nicely enough. The water was procured from said bathroom, and as sneakily as he could, he cracked open the bathroom door, bucket in hand. It was showtime. This is it, this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Well, I knew this was coming honestly and it isn’t that exciting from a Narrator God’s point of view. Maybe if you’re personally affiliated with Little J? Yeah, sure.

Bucket placed, hiding behind the fugly harlequin position secured. It was time to go down.

...

==>

Fifteen minutes later, Little J opens the door. Water spectacularly splashes on him, but what’s even more important: the bucket just clocks him over the head. Magnificent. John’s prankster gambit fucking bursts, and he’s slightly amused.

These shenanigans will be put to a stop until he procures DAD’s PDA. Lil J’s unpleasant screeches are music to our protagonist’s ears. To mine too, to some extent. Who doesn’t like bullying some kids? Don’t act like a puritan, you don’t have morals on this part of the internet, fool.

Once the coast is clear, and he can hear his kid self complain about DAD pranking the shit out of him, John decides it’s time to make a run for it through the kitchen. Then the utility room, and then the door that leads to the backyard. Given that the front door is a stupid idea, and there are no windows to fly out of on the bottom floor.

Well, this was good. What now?

Now we wait.

Well, not all that much, since his father comes within the next five minutes. He hears the car pulling into the driveway, this is good. Now, if he guessed right, he’ll be in the fucking kitchen, which means he either needs to be drawn out of it, or John just needs to snatch the PDA left on the table next to the window and fuck off.

Little J and DAD will be busy strifing over Betty Crocker and diabetes at this point. He can just swipe it. John walks towards the kitchen window on the side of the house. It’s all fogged up.

Welp, it’s been a good run folks, but this is where we part.

what the fuck was that just now?

Or that’s what John said to himself anyway. Sometimes slip ups happen and the characters become too aware. Won't happen again, Pinkie Promise. Moving on. He quickly pulls up the window just enough for him to cram his other arm through the gap and takes the PDA when his counterpart fucks up the air with powdered sugar. Honestly, why was he like that? No matter, it gave him some sort of camouflage. After that, he bolted for the skies.

What if anyone saw him?

This planet’s going to be railed by meteors anyway, fuck it.

Next, he should think of a place where he can get some peace and quiet and fiddle with this old piece of tech.

Chapter Text

==> John: go to the park near your old childhood home

What would be the point in exerting his sweet, sweet precious time and energy if he could stick around for as long as possible? Not like anybody was really around right before the world was ending, right? Sure, something like that.

He sat his ass down on a park bench and slid the PDA out of his pocket. Damn... This thing looked old. John then proceeded to feel like he finally caught up with time and was just about ready to become so old and finicky his body would slowly crumble into the abyss, like a Thanos snap.

whats a thanos snap?

John shook his head. Sometimes he hears things he’s really not supposed to hear, my bad once again.

It was so small in his hand; he vividly remembers how bulky it had once been. Strange. The screen is shit too, he noted, it felt like he was scrolling down plastic surface. Well, it’ll do for now. What the Hell could he even do with this in the first place? Browse the internet, or maybe pester his chums from the past. That was a strange concept, given he wanted nothing to do with them right now.

==> John: check out your best bro’s ironic websites while the planet gets ready to go to shit.

Plausible enough, it never hurt to go down a harmless nostalgic trip. With slight irritation and impatience, John opened up the browser on the PDA and typed in the link.

ERROR! Try reloading this page again later if you have internet.

the wifi from this cafe is so bad!!

Reload. There we go, in full glory, Sweet Jeff and Hella Bro. He’s already read all of these, and remembers most of them vividly, but it never hurt to skim them over one last time. From one page, onto the next, he keeps clicking away anytime he’s done reading whatever the site presents to him. The CSS is so bad, supposedly in an ironic manner.

The reading continues, and John slowly trudges from being interested in the comic to a spiral of feelings and loneliness. During this era, Dave was so alone. Well not really, he had a bunch of fucking puppets, cameras, and Bro to keep watch over him. Just... Internally, he lacked what John had when he was thirteen. No one you idolised to put their arm on your shoulder and give you a thumbs-up, to put it that way.

Maybe he shouldn’t have taken Dave’s word for it when he said he was cool as ice, and maybe he shouldn’t have been so naive to hope that everything was truly okay with him. Maybe if--

shhhhHHHHHHH

What was that?

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

oh, fuck

He tipped his head back to get a better look of the burning meteor. It was heading straight for his ass.

when the going gets tough its time to go!

==> John: teleport to the first place you think of out of panic

Chapter Text

==> John: teleport to the first place you think of out of panic

ERROR! This command has expired. Try again.

What the Hell was that? From a reading standpoint, the last chapter was just a second ago. From another standpoint, well… It’s been a couple rough years, alright? Gods get busy busy. Let’s try this again.

==> John: teleport to the first place you think of out of panic! 

Here, an exclamation mark should make it count as a new command. 

zap!

Where is John now, anyway? He shakes his head, vision blurry. It looks like he’s in an apartment, in another time and place, but still on Earth… Most likely anyway. Are there even other planets besides Earth with the same exact climate, cultures and architecture? We’ve had this conversation a bunch of times already; infinite universes and timelines = infinite possibilities. Though I guess there has to be some originality to each timeline, each universe, every passing moment, right? It’s not like it’s a common happenstance for John to dilly-dally by himself into an off-shoot universe. 

stop calling me weird!

Guess there’s no hiding from this guy. Let’s just pretend he doesn’t hear or see us until he inevitably gets upset in the near future and starts breaking shit in his vicinity in an attempt to hurt, what is ultimately, a semi-not-really corporeal being. You don’t need to know what I am, you just need to focus on John tripping over the futon with a PDA in his hand and almost connecting with the floor, giving the surrounding cement one big hug. 

Unfortunately for my attempt at comedic effect, John simply hoists himself up with a woosh of air and floats back up into a standing position like he didn’t embarrass himself in someone else’s home. This might be kind of messed up, but… The living room smells kind of familiar. Where has he seen this before? Or smelled it, I guess? 

Who even sniffs the air when they could be caught breaking and entering at any moment? 

Weirdo.

i said stop calling me weird!!!

You’re weird as Hell dude. 

While this exchange is happening, a strikingly nostalgic pair of sunglasses glints in the narrowly open front door, John getting too bullied to notice. 

==> John: try not to get stabbed

Being the oblivious person he is, if John gets occupied with two strange things happening at once, he loses the ability to focus on a new, stranger thing. That’s how you keep the commands going guys, little pro tip if you ever plan on running this joint after the big ol’ Narrative Guy is dead. 

With a swing of the door and the materialisation of a katana, John almost became a decorative rug on the floor had “something” not told him instinctively to avoid getting stabbed. The Pop-a-matic Vrillyhoo Hammer appears in his right hand with a blue flash, he swings it against the sharp half of the katana, the Fluorite Octet immediately rolling upon attack. 

The katana shatters on impact.

As I was saying… It’s a good thing we have the command center. 

==> John: look at your attacker

Chapter Text

==> John: look at your attacker

John blinks. Once. Twice. It's unfortunate this guy's weapon had to go, but oh well, that's what he gets for attacking him in the first place.

==> John: did we forget whose fault it really is here?

John shakes his head a little, annoyed at the interference with his opinion. He would've come to the same conclusion right afterwards anyway... What's the harm in setting him straight now? Not like it'll alter the course of a timeline that's already turned to dust. Or maybe it hasn't? After all, alpha or doomed, depending on who and where John Egbert was supposed to dilly-dally off in a depressed stupor somewhere else... The only major difference here is that he didn't leave his non-canon/canon son fatherless.

==> John: pay attention to the guy in front of you.

For a brief moment, John looks up at his host/attacker.

Wow, what a mess. Shards lay on the floor, all around a guy in a tacky-ass polo. A pair of all-too-familiar sunglasses and a cap cover most of his features, making way for the stubble and overgrown side burns currently taking over his face.

And once that brief moment's passed, said host disappears, becoming an after image. The boy (grown man) in blue had seen this one too many times.

it's a flashstep

Astute observation, Egbert. Spending twelve years being friends with someone who actively used it should have at least given you that much information.

dirk?

With a twitch of the eyebrows, our mysterious antagonist flash steps to the fridge, procuring another shitty katana for his empty strife specibus— cascade of shitty weapons coming out in one huge cascade as he unceremoniously leaves the fridge wide open.

This time, he comes back for him with a swing to the right, only for John to lean back and dodge, giving his opponent the opportunity to kick his legs from under him. Classic feint.

This would work if the main character of our story couldn't fucking fly. John remains hovering in the same place he was in before, one knee unbending to kick the shit out of the Dirk-lookalike. Hard enough to close the front door shut upon impact but shy of breaking his bones in his meatsack.

Good one, chump.

hey... i ended up here by accident! i wasn't trying to fight anyone jeez

In the Casa de Strider, even babies strife, sorry, Egbert.

so if that guy looks like dirk and we're in dave's house then does that mean...

BINGO!

==> Bro:

There is nothing to say to Bro. I simply said his name to switch to a perspective that watches our protagonist speak at the air surrounding his head like a lunatic. That's what beta Dirk Strider is witnessing right now, and man, he thought he was nuts. But at least Cal is a physical being.

That's as much as he can think while wincing in pain and blinking the blur away from the corners of his vision, watching the bumbling, blubbing idiot who broke into his goddamn house walk towards him awkwardly.

John looks at him.

Bro looks back, stiffly.

John's brows furrow together, chewing the inside of his cheek while clearly and awkwardly kneeling down to feel him up. Bro coughs.

I love crazy bitches. But you're not really my type right now.
like i said it was an accident, dave's bro!
Aren't you a little too old to know about little boys?

A sigh escapes him and he stands back up, twirling a finger in the air and letting his wind powers carry the douchebag to the futon, dropping him with an oomph! on the decaying mattress.

==> John: use your PDA.

He figured that Dave probably isn't home because he would've come out and check the way he decked his older brother to Mars, so why not search the internet for a bit to see what date it was.

John fumbles with the plastic screen unceremoniously until he realizes the screen stopped working properly, it got cracked up when he took a kick to the legs for breaking, entering, and battery.

John squints, chest deflating, and sits on the floor next to the futon cross-legged.

what year is it?
What, are you some time traveler or something? Like I know the sky's the limit, but man...
that doesnt answer my question!!!
Seeing as you stained my loving, family-friendly living room, not even with the threat of being fucked by your freaky wind-tentacles would I utter a modicum of relevant information.
you suck so bad dirk— bro? dirkbro whatever!

Bro's eyebrow twitched in the same telltale manner as the first time he heard his first name.

Who the fuck are you?
answer my question first, dirkbro.

This is getting us nowhere.

==> John: snap your fingers.

Chapter Text

==> John: snap your fingers.

With a snap of his fingers, the colourful room around them begins blurring, colours mixing with a much darker, warmer hue. The next time John opens his eyes, he’s at the edge of a rooftop– he looks around, and it seems he relocated himself and the prisoner of his vices within the same time and space. His shoes grind back on the cement as he realises he still hasn’t caught onto placing himself at a less dangerous, appropriate place quite yet. Looking upwards, he blinks a little bit, glad he decided to hoist Bro up with wind instead of just teleporting them somewhere nearby.

Maybe he should have just gone off to a busy street and threatened Bro with incoming traffic, Bro would be his puppet, and he would puppet his ass right into playing in traffic just to make a point.

Well…

==> John: play in traffic with your prisoner

John shook his head.

hell no! why’d i even think of that?! jesus christ.

He ignores Bro, who’s busying himself by rolling around in the air unsteadily, growing a concussion by the minute and counting the seconds left he has on this earth.

While he does said ignoring, our wonderboy in blue decides to sit down at the edge of the roof, index finger twirling Bro from his line of vision, a heavy sigh escaping him and dissipating into tiny blue particles all around him. Tipping his head backwards, his hood slips slightly and he looks up at the fading purples and oranges in the sky, brought by the sun slowly leaving the skyline in the distance. He was bored, so bored, and something felt inexplicably displaced inside him, like he had pathetically licked at the broken pieces of his heart and glued them back together into one with spit bubbles and a cope.

That was the issue with depressed people– they had something to do looking right at their face, and with one small distraction (like playing in traffic with Bro), they pause for just a moment, and the same solitary feeling creeps back in.

==> Bro: survey your captor

It’s kind of hard being Bro right now, whatnot with the crippling pain after getting his chest felt up by some guy who probably bruised at least a bone, and not even the right one. Nevertheless, my command blossoms his curiosity and he turns his head to the right as much as he can which isn’t a lot and wow he thinks his neck is gonna break too from that impact, and watches the tufts of black hair emerge from the freakishly blue hood draping off of his shoulders, bunching together around his shoulders and taking up even more space on the rooftop.

What the fuck is this guy doing now, gazing longingly into the sunset while a Summertime Sadness by Lana Del Rey plays in the background? How can a grown man even manage to look like such a bundle of puppies who got splashed by a car riding past them, abandoned in this torn down cardboard ass box on the side of the street? Where is he even going with these analogies?

Bro asks a lot of stupid questions, methinks.

Nevertheless, since I know (and now you know) that Bro isn’t controlled by a troll-cherub blackrom relationship, seeing as his sympathy boner has grown, we can cross out the fact that this is a timeline in which the game never happened. Or hell, it happens, but Bro beats the everliving snot out of Dave while fully conscious and aware of his actions?

Can’t just tell you all of that on a whim, sorry. Suspense.

You look like my little brother’s loser friend, so you’re either really good at photoshop and a pedophile in disguise or you’re his dad or something. Kinda young to be popping out thirteen year olds though.

Way to break the silence with another Diddy allegation and some classic word vomit. At least it catches John’s attention and he remembers why he was even up here in the first place. With a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, he hums a tune in response, shoulders slouching as he leans forward, feet kicking on the side of the building. Thoughts weigh heavy on his mind, losing himself in them so quickly that in the end he doesn’t actually think about anything concretely.

There’s only one alpha timeline, and if he’s here, and this hasn’t happened in the past, then this place isn’t worth shit, so it goes to say that nothing that matters would even happen if he told him, right?

funny, because i’m pretty sure i AM your brother’s loser friend.

==> John: spit your shit

Chapter Text

==> John: spit your shit

As the last wisps of light framing John’s face fade out, the weight of his words fall with them, chin tilting in the same direction once he cocks and eyebrow and blinks at Bro, still dangling up in the air at his mercy.

He hasn’t gotten an answer to his question, and John decided that he’ll stay up there for as long as he’s unsatisfied. Bro, being as stone-faced as ever, doesn’t move his poker-face an inch to display his annoyance at being slowly spun around in the air like a baby in a placenta sack.

That’s a pretty weak comeback man, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen better filets-o-bullshité being sold on discount at the gas station.
i dont get why that’s just sooooo hard to believe! you’re literally floating in the air for god’s sake!
Fake John, I think getting anally probed by the wall five minutes ago makes anything look possible.
like there’s anything to prove it anyway, what, do you wanna do a side and stick me next to a jpeg of myself on dave’s computer?
what does it matter anyway? it’s not like i’m the guy you vaguely saw type back on his computer
i’m just some knock-off off the guy
Fake John.
or is he a knock-off off of me?s since im technically the alpha timeline john???
i mean was all of that bull even real?! everything felt so off, it’s like everyone suddenly did a 180 and i didn’t recognise them anymore! except for maybe dave and karkat
Fake John.
and even then they’re just soooo busy rebuilding society and jumping like a bazillion times into the future!
and then they’re probably gonna live comfortably going mwah and smooch MY LOVING STRIDER! back and forth at each other
Holy shit. John.
what am i supposed to do now?! kanaya has rose and dirk has this awkward hot-cold yes-no relationship with jake and man–

John pauses, realising he may have just word-vomited the answer Bro was looking for by accident, well, that’s if he believes what he’s spewing. He’s not too sure; this guy’s stony face look is better than Dave’s, maybe because he had more time to master it or maybe he’s just a bigger cool-bro nonchalant-wannabe than Dave could ever be. John can’t tell if there are any gears ticking in his head, but… The Dirk he knew wasn’t stupid.

Going back to referencing babies and pregnancies…

After a pregnant pause, Bro cocks his head up a little bit more, seemingly more clear-headed than he was upon hammer impact.

So that’s how you know that shit.
Alright, I believe you.
That doesn’t excuse breaking into my apartment, denting my wall, and breaking my shit.
Are you done having a goddamn meltdown on my rooftop?
Put me down.

Having been caught-off guard after giving himself away, John doesn’t dwell too much on the command.

==> John: put Bro down on the rooftop.

Had to throw that in there because who knows if he’d just put him down there or on the ground… Like a hundred feet away. Anxiety makes him pick at his fingernails and bite down on his lip apprehensively, freaking the fuck out and trying to find a retort at the same time. He has some sort of idea of what Dave’s guardian thinks, but the lack of tone doesn’t sound any particular way, falling flat on his ears.

this is so awkward…

So, timey shit, real huh?
pretty real… yeah
Did mombert shit you out like that? Had the ability to perv on me before you tried to on Dave?
wow… and the douchebaggery keeps going. no actually! i am delighted to inform you that i, john egbert, was not in fact birthed out of my mom’s asshole with the power to go to literally any other place on a whim!
Tough shit. Why are you in my fucking place, in 2011?
2011???
i don’t know i guess
was trying not to get my shit rocked by a meteor
it was like… flying over to greet me
so i just went to the first place i could think of
Must have been real chummy with my kid to zap over here and go running into his welcoming arms with your freaky tentacle wind shit.
I’d assume the meteor story is bull too but given how gullible you look and how you reply semi-normally, I’ll give you a discounted coupon of Strider’s Benefit of The Doubt.
wow, very generous, mr.strider sir, i will cherish this so much it’ll become my family heirloom, to be passed down with each generation’s passing!
You’re welcome.
… so

Bro doesn’t respond to his bad attempt at shifting the topic.

where is dave anyway?
I thought I was enough Strider for you, turns out you’re fucking greedy.
He’s at some chick’s place, why, can your heart take longing for your middle-school bromance no longer?
just surprised i guess
he barely mentioned stuff like school and social stuff and all this other stuff i don’t really know much about on account of never finishing middle school i, guess?

Bro gets up from the comfortable seat he had next to John, holding his neck for support and shrugging his shoulders in response instead of bothering to keep up with a conversation he doesn’t give much of a shit about. He didn’t know why he even spoke so damn much in the first place– hell, he doesn’t speak that much to the Chinese takeout place and he calls pretty much every night.

With John trailing behind him, floating lazily behind him just above the concrete roof, uninterested in making the effort of walking down the long-ass staircase leading back to his friend’s apartment, let’s see what this guy’s thinking.

==> Be Bro

Chapter Text

==> Be Bro

Now once again in front of his front door, Bro jingles the handle a little bit, noticing that with a slight touch the door just creaked over, his blood pressure rising again when realising he probably had to fix the fucking lock later, when he could be fucked to.

He would’ve flashstepped down here, being the introverted, anti-social shit he was, but a hand over his stomach indicated he probably would’ve just aggravated his bruised bones. John, on the other hand, was seen perfectly fine creepily floating behind and closing the door with his wind without even moving a finger this time. Bro noted he would move his hands about for dorky dramatic effect. The sense of familiarity washed over him again, this time without the jarring aftertaste; after all, he knew where the hell he landed now.

Squeak.

What was that?

John walked forward, the squeak echoing in his general vicinity again. He looked down at his feet (landing means more things, y’know, metaphorically, literally…), face immediately twisting when he saw a plushy, fat, orange… rump sticking out from right under his foot.

oh hell no!

Bro’s head automatically turned in his direction, face as stony as ever.

That’ll be sixty bucks, Egbert. Shit isn’t cheap to make.

if your stupid jpegged sword wasn’t enough i’ll break every smuppet you have until there’s nothing but fluff and deflated plush rumps everywhere mr.strider

The hand resting on Bro’s stomach raised dramatically to his chest, as if clutching his pearls, his other hand dramatically holding his forehead.

Oh my heavens no, shiver me timbers! A snot-nosed little fuck is going to ruin my business!

John scoffed and rolled his eyes, choosing instead to lay down on the futon and ignore the incoming train of bull that Bro would start rapping out, kicking his shoes off haphazardly and propping his head up on the uncomfortable hand rest.

==> John: dream