Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A symphony was halted, an orchestra was destroyed. Blaring sounds and blinding lights overtook the stage, a single musician falling over it, lifeless and breathless.

And it all fade away to black.

=> Be the dead musician

Your name is…

...something that does not matter anymore.

A sense of dreadful emptiness had overtaken you and your feelings, drowning you within this ever familiar touch of despair and voided emotion. Everything was dark, and you cannot feel the gravity of this situation. Worse, you have no idea it’s even possible for such things to be felt, and yet…

You are here. 

…and surely, you have died. And that is all that there is. No euphemisms, no metaphors, just straight-up DEAD. In fact, the ability to think at this point is a fucking miracle, despite being an impossibility (ghosts can’t think, or even exist, right?)! Despite that, you can’t remember well. You have no idea what were the exact last words you spoke, if anyone had ever seen you die (it’s complicated) or if your body was found (it is, is it…not?).

Thoughts swirl within your barely alive mind as you hear shuffling and muffled sounds and noises outside of your perspective—far from what your supposed mouth can speak. You cannot feel your emotions beyond splatters of colors and quiet sounds, but you just had...to know.

What happened.

...

It was just an ordinary, boring day for you and your life. Home, road, school, road, home, repeat. Breakfast, recess, lunch, sometimes dinner, sometimes none, sometimes more. Rambles, preaches, chats. All cascading and fading into each other and forgotten memories. Repetitive melodies you are sick of. Violins, violence, everything wrong with the world. Your mind’s coping mechanism might be forgetfulness…but the painful emotions remain. 

It still remained.

But this time, you were traveling alone to home, nobody else to accompany you (not that you liked the feeling.) You can barely recall where you had that incident within the first place—somewhere across your school, maybe? 

And yet…the memories started to return at this unfortunate hour, as vivid as it was when it was first experienced. The memories seemed to pierce through the walls you had meticulously built to shield yourself from their crippling effects, from the pain you bear and the wounds they leave open. 

It's all your fault, it’s all your fault. The empty beast you wished to never look at painfully showed again.

Broken melodies cascaded in a panic.

Before that, though, you were on your phone like the irresponsible but self-declared hopeless teenager that you are, reading through panels of a certain hell webcomic that had buried itself within your mind. Oh boy, you are contributing to the problem of the dynamics of older and younger generations. Of course Homestuck would do such things—each character is way too fucking endearing, and so does the settings, mechanics, and all thst writing shit. You’re invested, and you’re hooked. And in fact, you were repeating the panels that took place before the well-known Cascade flash, still intrigued by the conversations despite the fact you were weighted by.…something.

….

What were you thinking of again? Oh, that grim thought of your demise—how easily it slipped from your mind! 

Could it be that you are simply...moronic, in overlooking such a weighty matter?

Your mind—or soul?—wandered within this emptiness that made you feel nothing, reminiscing at the pure escapism your mind was occupied in. Pure nothing as well, lacking sounds and actual colors. You thought you could never feel such a thing like emptiness. Due to things you would rather forget, and implied with your escapism, emptiness is something you wanted to attain, to feel, to be one with, to be buried underneath…

And now...guess you finally got your desire.

One of them, at least—everything else was a mirage of broken and hidden dreams (it’s not, said a broken tune within you). You continued to ponder on how you were so focused on certain red texts whilst crossing the road. You are completely aware that this is the most horrible action to be ever conceived by some random teenager like yourself.

And yet...it happened.

A loud bang happened, or rather a heavy thud of broken ribs.

Of course that would happen.

Something wet dropped on your hand that was free unburied from your own, fucking body and backpack. 

Indeed, as you became aware of the muffled sounds and witnessed a dance of vivid and harsh, but muddled colors in that fleeting moment, your vision began to falter. Simultaneously, you felt your strength draining inch-by-inch, barely holding (rather simply having your hand on top) onto your battered and broken. Amid the scorching midday sun on a Friday (you wished to be...at your house, simply doing chores and falling again into doomscrolling), your surroundings appeared hazy, red lines and trails etched across the gray concrete. Each thud of your heart was palpable; you can feel that it was barely holding onto your life and your blood, reminiscent of a balloon slowly expanding and quickly deflating as air escaped through holes poked by the inevitability of death, struggling to remain inflated and keeping its host alive.

It hurts it hurts it hurts—

And then you feel...empty. Silence overtook your senses. Nothing was playing anymore.

Next thing you knew, you are here. Your thoughts, that is. You were haunted by muffled sounds and unseen colors, which are slowly fading and the red blood from that harsh impact still burning within your mind. 

You would laugh half-heartedly at your situation, had your mouth been existent that can spew out some random nonsense. But, no, you can’t. Ha, what was this like again? That book with the humanity destroyer AI called AM? 

You got no mouth, and yet you lost the desire to scream or talk. Hell, you don’t want to move at all! 

What a fucking coward you are!

...

Maybe it was all your fault you fucked up and got to this situation. You expected to die on a hospital bed, being berated or having someone shed tears on your side—the latter’s impossible why would he do it—or simply die by the side of the road, able to mutter the last words of empathy for the one who hit you (you can’t, because you can’t remember, you fool). 

But…it was almost like you stopped…existing…right after you saw that trail of red (the colors have almost faded to black, please come back)...

You don’t exist anymore, or at least your feeling of life...and yet…

You...

You feel something now—an intruder.

Fuck, are you gonna die of double death! We? Is Double death even a thi—

(Oh, you poor thing.)

….

That voice…

It sounds like…an angel.

A singer to an unaccomplished piece.

Now, you’re pretty sure angels physically look incomprehensible to human eyes, and so you can't just associate the ‘vibe’ of the voice by a mythological generalization. Uhh, fuck this shit anyways, what was that voice—

(How are you holding up at this point, M—dear? Are you alright?)

...

There it goes again, its cadenza flowing through your very heart as if you have one on your person (are you even human anymore, or a broken speck of non-existence) and its invisible breeze hitting your non-existent face. You have no idea how to describe this well, but….

It feels comfortable.

...

…man what did it say again? It left your mind.

(Don’t worry for now. Lay down your soul…you were roughed up.)

How can you…’lay down your soul’—

Suddenly, you felt something tugging on your very being. 

Your remaining essence. 

Your self. 

You were slowly pulled down by this unknown but comforting force as it—they?—continued to speak its own perceptions of you.

(This is…not what I expected when I had to…)

Have to what?

To kill you? To drag you into this nightmare of nothingness, where there is nobody who can save you, so to say? Well done, but don't take that credit all for yourself—

(Stop thinking of such hurtful things. It hurts you more.

(It hurts to see you like this.)

….

They can hear you? 

(Tell me, how did everything lead to the point where your own being was scarred by the darkness of pain, instead of being together with it?)

Ahh, poetry. And yet you have no idea what this…thing was implying. It also dodged the question about hearing you. However, it responded well to that, and by ‘that’, you are internally monologuing about your confusion.

(You are an interesting child, a Life cut short by an unfortunate series of events. Your chances of growth are stifled by your mere environment, a cruel punishment to someone to have so much to live for. Your way of writing your story was disproven upon, and discouraged.)

Yea, yea, that was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?

(Ah, apologies for triggering your annoyance. You have all the right to be mad and frustrated at me for pulling you into this realm, questioning the amount of ‘how much do I deserve this’ you may have.)

‘Right to be mad’? Why would you (referring to yourself) have the right?! You fucked this up, and now the consequences of your actions lead to this point. Stupid you, stupid self. Stupid everything!

(You should not be loathing yourself over past lives. It was long gone.)

One thing leads to another, and you’re straight up dead. Your life is now done, your several unfinished personal projects will forever rot and be forgotten, and you haven’t replied to an online mutual’s significant question. 

(You are hurting yourself. Please cease.)

You’re pretty sure that person…he (he's sickening)…is mad-ranting or pissed off by the facets of your death, and you’re pretty sure a good chunk of your belongings are chucked out or hidden by now—letting it out in the open would cause more pain, and your family is used to hiding belongings of the deceased unusable.

There’s no turning back, it’s all your fault, clawing into the surface as you get dragged down into the nine layers of hell, and there might as well be a God who saw your sins and decided to punish you at this very moment and pluck you out of those layers and shove you in a world worse than limbo—

(END. THIS. NOW.)

…

For some unknown reason, your train of thoughts ceased, an unknown calmness filling your emptiness— still not enough —as you continued on being slowly dragged down to…somewhere. As your supposed mind cleared up, you can’t help but feel disgusted over the random tangent you pulled out of your undead ass that moment.

'But…what do you want from me, whoever are you?' You spoke within your head, for the mental mouth remains its core.

(Perhaps we had met on an aggressive impression. Let us start over. I know who you are, child, and the pain you have to bear.)

You would narrow your eyes if you have the ability to do such things at this moment. What do they mean by this?

(Humanity had its fair share of rejoices and tragedies. Such a shame it was slowly succumbing into its own negativities, forcing the next generation to live in a world worse than before. Alas, it was a never-ceasing sonata of tragedy.

(And I am also referring to you, to yourself, as a tragedy.

(What a tragedy.)

Yadda yadda, tragedy bla bla bla. You’ve heard of this countless times ago, from worried mutuals to uncaring voices. Some tried to offer support, some tried to make you fix yourself, but it was all voiced by the fact you CAN’T DO ANYTHING RIGHT YOU PIECE OF SH—

(Shh, shh, listen here, dear. What a travesty, what a tragedy you are. However, as much as I have no ill intent or full pity for your situation, as much as I cannot relate to the broken concepts you have, I can feel your pain. I can feel your hopes go high and low, then plummet entirely. Whatever had made such a majestic element, a wonder, a shining star, be blown out to non-existence had made me want to pull you out of your world.)

‘Then…why did you pick me?’ Your mind uttered, addressing the elephant in this metaphorical room. ‘Why pick my soul to be dragged out of Earth instead of...anyone else?'

(It was all by chance, by the right time and place, and by preference.) They explained. (I could have picked a person with a life ‘better’ than yours, or the privileged, or the fortunate. I could have picked a being with significance taken from their popularity in their local area or wider else. I could have picked ones who can take on dragons and demons alike.)

‘Are you telling me you like traumatized children?’ You question their intent and motive.

(Oh, I did not intend it to sound like that. Apologies.)

‘Why are you apologizing…why would you apologize to me?’

(You deserve a way to feel that your voice is heard.)

…

What do you mean?

(You are the type of person with a heart of hold buried underneath masks. Granted, it was all different for your situation—your front is that of happiness and sass, lighting up the world of those around you. Sometimes, it falters, sometimes, it shines too much. But it’s still there. And it works.

(However, deep inside...) They sound...sad? (You lacked the feeling of validity. You cannot give yourself happiness and the positivity you gave to others. You can’t discern whether or not people are genuine with their compliments, or if it was back-handed. You are a person who gave so much and spoke so much, wanting to attain that feeling of relief and true happiness.

(You are unsure whether or not you made a lasting impact, or if you even matter. And the combination of the madness that is your greatest lows and your own blows to your already nonexistent self esteem and ego spiraled your internal life down the drain.

(But no, you will and can determine your own happiness and worth through making things change for the better, or simply start over. Create a new piece. Find what your heart truly desire beyond death and hatred of the very thing you should be protecting.)

...

Wow.

You couldn't give a shit, and yet...you can’t help but be curious about the last statement, and considering you're fucking dead, you know what it implies.

You have heard of the genre of isekais. You have read stories and fanfiction regarding isekai. The thought of a person dying and living again in another world, entirely separated from their old life beyond memories, and starting over with that same knowledge they have, is something that intrigues you. The same melody on a new concerto. Sure, the concept and genre of isekai had been oversaturated lately, and you lost interest with it due to the abundant amount of tropes, romances, and general public hate, but the whole concept had potential.

Just replace the settings, for instance. Or give the main character a gun and let them loose in medieval times.

Yet…this voice is claiming…or implying...that you can start over again. 

Turn over a new leaf.

Start a new story.

Turn the pages of a blank book.

Rewrite your story in the way you wanted to.

Be able to compose your own song again.

Can you believe it, though? 

(In another world, the rewriting could be entirely your own doing, literally, changing the narrative for the selfish reason to keep each ending the beginning of another, or perhaps end the cycle of predictability.)

(But here? You currently have no power besides your free will. You have no magical staff, strong allies, mysteries to solve, and monsters to slay. Everything is ground zero, dear.)

But….is there a catch? There should be.

(Sadly, there is. Three, in fact. Now, I can hear your bout of profanity with these conditions, but I can assure you that it would all be within your favor.)

Sure…you’ll hear this one out.

(First condition: You have to live someone else's life, and be one with it. Whoever it may be, I would not care for such options—except for a certain few, for even your soul cannot take on those vile beings. You cannot also instantly be within that life, as your soul must acclimate before you can easily waltz your goals through and through. Anyone and anything else is possible, from the highest main character to the lowest one-off being.)

‘So…I’ll be stalled by amnesia for the first few years of my existence within this new life or so?’

(Affirmative, although it can be longer or shorter depending on the lifespan of your new life. If you ended up as a human, it would be as fast as the average age of gaining consciousness. If you ended up as something lower, it might even be a short while. As for the second condition...

I shall send you to the last universe you had interacted with.)

…

What did they mean? What universe?

...

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh fucking no.

‘You’re gonna send me to Homestuck, aren’t y—'

(Do not utter that name for this universe.)

…what.

(...nothing to note. However, by your reaction, it seems that you are aware of the implications this will bring you. I am so sorry.

(The grueling loops, the tragic deaths, and the possible inevitability of the Alpha Timeline—it's all so much within a single reality. I have seen versions where it was shifted and altered, but I would not put you at such dimensions or at any significant advantage, nor at disadvantage. You will be starting off at what you will call ‘Vanilla’...Homestuck, besides the more open malleability of changing the Alpha Timeline.)

You have no idea what to comment other than a simple 'oh'. 

On one hand, great! You can start fresh anew!

On the other hand, you gotta be fucking kidding. 

Now, you have a few interesting options, and some obvious ones to boot. Their main problems are their guardians/lusii, but you can fix that one up, right? Give someone like Bro a good bonk in the head, or be there for some people and stop their descent into the slippery slope. 

But…you fear the third condition.

(Third condition: You shall lead your rendition of this universe to either its intended consequences and its canonical timeline…or lead people to the best case scenario possible. Conduct of compose. As many of them as you can—human, trolls, lusii, carapacians, consorts, even…the cherubs. Oh-so poor children, seeing many die over and over again.

(The choice is yours, whatever and whoever you want to be. And once you die for good, no future methods of reviving you and your soul, that is the end of your story. The end of your book. The end of your song. There will be no additional pages, not unless interference happens—which would not appear for the years and eternity to come. And your soul shall rest forever.)

Oh man, this is a somewhat terrible moment for you to be overthinking. You have one chance at this, and there can be so many ways you can fuck this up. 

What if you sent more people into the chopping block?

What if you doomed the entire timeline? 

You need to think of an option that can give these fuckers the best ending they can have.

You need to find a path that can reduce Lord English’s tools—or his power itself.

You are not the type of shipper that decides on just one type, but you need to make the bonds and relationships that would form work out for the better, make sure that the bonds that will form will be beneficial bor both parties.

You need to lessen the impact of doomed timelines—trying to deal with all the time looping nonsense.

Hell, you need everybody to be as alive as they can, and as alive as you want them to—many deaths are undeserved, and you know it.

‘...’

And yet…how would you start? What if things are even worse once you drop off?

Still, there can be only two possibilities with your shitty plans and randomly shitty goals. 

(Have you made a choice?)

A world where your influence over a rather small area ended up affecting everyone else and leading to the happy ending you wish they all had…

…or a world where your control and plans for it—at everyone's benefit—led to the redemption of a certain few and the power of alliances/friendship?

‘I choose…’

'Send me into the past, where I can intervene with Bro Strider.’

The voice was silent for a moment, keeping your metaphorical from jumping off into this decision. Why did you pick this? Well, to be fair, you do adore Dave Strider, and you wanted to at least give the guy and his friends a life where he was, well, somewhat better off? It was hard to describe why you did that beyond totally not having an odd crush for him, but it was just that…

You wanted to try and challenge Bro Strider’s beliefs…or at least beat up Lil’ Cal to a pulp. The earlier that fucker gets destroyed, the less emotionally closed-off Bro would be for Dave, and the less methods of surveillance Lord English will have…hopefully.

And plus, you wanted to try what it was like to have wings.

(Interesting…)

Ooh, it finally made its presence known again. Where have you been?

(The route you will be choosing has dire consequences for the timeline you will pave for everyone. Whether those are good or bad, only one thing was evident: avoiding any way people can help you instead of the other way round will cause what you can consider as ‘shenanigans’.

(Which means, be careful of how you apply your knowledge of Homestuck and how you treat everyone, because if you were ever to become...Davesprite…your expectations will not be fulfilled.)

Ahh yes, the thing with Future Dave going to the Alpha Timeline’s past to prevent a horrible decision. But that will be on your backburner for later on—essentially, future problems.

(Do you accept?)

…

‘Of course!’ You can’t wait to beat up puppet ass, or heavily influence someone’s—wait, hold on, what did it mean by the Davesprite par—AHHHH!

You suddenly felt your own being dragged down to the frays of the abyss, hearing all sounds and sights humanity shouldn’t know and sense of. You see swirling tentacles, you feel the unknown breeze of harmonic danger, and you can hear the distant cackles of a certain Time-wielding asshole.

The colors all merged to black, speckles of feathers and shattered, stained glass all surround you. Time, Space, Light, Void, Life, Doom, Breath, Blood, Hope, Rage, Heart, Mind. The colors of the aspects surround you.

And most of all, you see the colors of Life and the world shine through, before a hit of red swipes through your vision.

(...)

(My work is done here.

(Stay safe, be careful.

(Save them.)

(...)

(Save everyone you can.)

...

...

==> Somewhere in the future, and quite many....

==> POV: Be Dave Strider and recap the unusual hells you went through

Chapter Text

==> Somewhere in the future, and quite many....

==> POV: Be Dave Strider and recap the unusual hells you went through

Your name is DAVE STRIDER, and you can say to yourself that this day can’t get any more normal. 

Not anymore, actually.

You were starting to associate your beloved AJs for a symbol of…well, you can’t call it “bad luck”. Rather, you would rather call it “Random Events Trigger”, like it was some key to starting a bossfight. You would have thought it was bad luck at first because you accidentally spilled it onto your SBURB discs, forcing you to try and ask for Bro’s discs.

But the consequences continuing to pile up in ways you think wouldn't had been result of your misfortunes, but one of Rose’s black magicks. Orr anything else, as long as it's in the same category of “what the fuck”.

First of all, the whole ass thing with Bro having the spare discs. You could have asked coolly, but as you described it, his personal vocabulary of being a badass big brother describes “asking for something from him” as “fighting”. Sure, the strifes ensuing from such requests aren’t as hard compared to actual training sessions, or even casual strifes, but it was still a pain in your ass to go through, especially on limited time. And sure, you love your Bro for all your life, but sometimes his quirks get in the way some urgent matters.

And as what you expected, a note from him was on the fridge, stating you to simply ascend. You were ready to beat him again, to secure your victories over yur strifes, as you head up the roof.

However, instead of that taking place, or even a simple clash of a sword…

..Bro just gave you the discs.

No strife, no questioning when you asked for it, no nothing.

He was just…outright giving it to you. That was the second scenario which had been causing you to question the effects of drinking those piss-colored juices. In the past and recent times, besides now, Bro had never not strife with you over giving any object he thinks is significant to you. You had asked him about why he was acting like this—in your coolkid way, of course—and he didn’t give you an answer.

What the fuck, Bro.

You weren’t able to rest from the random events, though, as you happened to be Rose’s server player for this game of SBURB. After you head down to your room, perplexed and struggling to compehend your Bro's life choices, some shit happened. For starters, mishaps caused Rose to try catching her own bottle-shaped artifact spawned from some sort of crystal-like totem she made. Adding to all of these, her apparently dead cat was prototyped for the second time to give way for an awkward reunion between owner and pet before he—Rose had once talked to you about Jaspers and whatever her mom did to bury him—saved her ass.

Hold on, why are you even rambling about someone else’s sprite? You yourself had to enter as well!

….after taking a piss.

==> Dave: Resume onto current times.

You walked towards the bathroom near your room, not seeing Bro within his room—was he still on that roof? Yet, despite the current times being already here and the past being unchangeable, you grimaced at the lack of a toilet, courtesy of your own server player. 

Thanks, Jade, totally necessary. This will surely help you in the future.

Why did she even put it within your own room?

You mused towards your own thoughts as you did your business, specifically thoughts on accursed AJs and sending John the captcha code of a good amount of piss-filled bottles disguised as it. LOL, John would be screaming as he realized that AJs aren’t supposed to be warm, anything other than a shitty shade of yellow, or tastes inedible. He’s such a dork, even if he deflected the oh-so hurtful accusations upon yourself. You hope nothing bad will happen to him or catch him off-guard—you heard his dad was gone, somewhere hopefully nearby, and you hoped his dad would be able to hug him the moment the two met.

Hah, what a dork.

What was his land again? Land Of Wind And Shadow—no, that was wrong. It’s the Land Of Wind And Shade— there we go. What an unusual and fitting name for his land.

And speaking of lands, you pondered upon Jade’s actions toward your room, and whatever random bullshit she was placing within. You’re sure the thing that created those artifact stuff, like Rose’s champagne bottle or John’s apple, was placed on top of the roof—if the thuds above your ceiling were of any indication. Well, if Bro is where you think he was in, he would be astonished by the sudden appearance of that equipment. 

Pretty much right now, Jade was finding anything to put within the shitty, seizure ball that’s a kernelsprite to prototype from the equipment that released it—oh wait.

What if she—

Ping!

Oh, speak of the doggy girl and she will come. You ejected your phone from your modus, and read the singular message she had sent to you.

GG: daveeeeee
TG: sup what was it
GG: i found something!
TG: oh no dont you dare get into my stash
GG: i cant believe you also like preserving animals!
TG:
TG: what do you mean
TG: jade what the fuck do you mean

You finished typing your question out with a tinge of confusion within your emotions. Sure, your interest with the dead and preserving its remains was not the type of morbid interest a cool kid such as yourself was expected to get into. But, come on, the way those little fellas get crammed into jars and their funny faces was cool as fuck to see! 

Even if their caws are sometimes painful, though. Not that you weren't desentisized to their sounds.

It helps (totally) that your dear Bro always has a gag gift related to it (whether or not the ‘gag gift’ part was amusing or annoying) and has been helping you expand your collection of dead crows and small creatures. And after being scolded by Jade years ago over a lack of...something you didn't bother to recall, you bothered to respect these creatures by giving them names—you’re sure you used ‘Jeff’ so many times now, though.

And not like the crows would be able to remember those names—oh, GG responded quickly.

GG: i was moving the equipment into your room, and
GG: look what i found! :D
GG: *preserved-crow.png*

Your eyes widened at the image of the specific, preserved corpse of an unassuming corvid GG sent you. Oh damn, she was indeed going through your stashes.

What a feral girl she is.

However, you can’t help but feel that unfamiliar tinge within yourself upon seeing the crow within that jar. Its form was positioned in a manner intricate enough to show off its white accents. Its head was placed within a perpetually sleeping position, adjusted to be fully visible—it looks like an actual fetus, only with feathers and its...guts. 

Sure, the crow was cleaned off its blood and broken feathers from some accident, but the still open gut was jarring to percieve. At least the cut was not open enough to let its organs get out—oh wait, its organs are all gone.

You then ignored your musings in favor of responding to GG, as you were desiring to discover whether or not John and Rose were serious about what they had explored within SBURB.

TG: oh wow that was surely something
TG: a random crow who had been chucked into multiple preservatives
TG: forever protected from its brethren and the damn weather
TG: like it just saw that jar full of murky liquid and said to itself “this is the crap coffin i wanna die in”
TG: and chucked itself into its cylindrical glory
TG: i cant believe you somehow found where the guy was hiding
GG: :)
GG: it looks sad being in the jar though :(
GG: hmm

You proceeded to rant away while Jade went idle.

TG: i dont hate this thing tho it was fuckin cool
TG: a surprisingly decent gag gift from my bro and all
TG: things jars are my jams and man
TG: the way mayos jams jellies and pickles like that particular crow get chucked into the basketball hoop of jars
TG: but seriously what was the major difference between a jam and a jelly tho
TG: mayos i can understand with its unmoving glory until it was being reverse spooned into bread and butter
GG:
GG: gross! XP
TG: but whats really the difference between jam and jelly
TG: like jams have the shitty fruit guts
TG: but theyre both made out of fruit
TG: why get so uppity about it
TG: like dawg like theyre the same damn thing
TG: unless the jelly sees the jam and was like holy shit your guts are so gross i can see your organs
TG: like dont get me started on fruit preserves like holy shit

*SHATTER*

==> Dave: Hear the sound of broken glass

Your senses were alarmed and you stiffened from your position within the bathroom, the sound you just heard echoing across your apartment. You zipped your pants from finishing your pissing business and went outside. What was that sound from, even?

TG: hold on what was that shattering sound
TG: jade
TG: jade???
TG: dawg what did you just broke
GG: sorry about that!
GG: i just broke the crow out of its glassy prison,
GG: and now i wanna help it
GG: it even has a stab wound! D:

==> Dave: Realize what the fuck Jade was talking about

TG: wait fuck hold on a second

Oh no, OH NO.

You ain’t gonna let her do that! Sure, you have quite the respect for her and your embarrassing shares of ironic content, but this? 

You were already planning something else for the prototyping process!

You immediately ran across the hallway of your apartment, running past some rooms. You were surprised Bro wasn’t around— where is your bro—FOCUS, Dave! He’s a Strider, and he can handle a little Texan heat above that roof! You, on the other hand, is required to stop GG from what she was about to pull off.

You dodged a corner just in time and backflipped into your room, landing right between the space where none of the wires are running through. When you looked up, you were thankful for wearing your shades right now…and was astounded by the orange fucker you were seeing.

Sure, you do know that Kernelsprites are the seizure orbs they are, but this? You weren’t expecting Jade to go through her plans for your sprite! And now the dripping head of a certain corvid was shown on the Kernelsprites, indicating what creature was placed within its seizure orange colors.

GG: yay :D
TG: oh awesome
TG: instead of some wise and old helpful sprite guide sort of guy
TG: im stuck with this wet and feathery thing
TG: now im forever haunted by a random gag gift
GG: what do you mean? i brought that cute little guy to life!!!
GG: and plus at least it could be something else
GG: like that

You raised a brow at GG’s exclamation, looking upwards at your ceiling in an attempt to make eye contact with GG observing you fumble around.

TG: like what
GG: behind you!

You were about to respond, when one motherfucker flew at your head, and because you were distracted, you were fallen over…by a singular crow. Caws and mocking laughter filled the room as you struggled to get up, knowing that Jade had seen you lose your coolness points…over a crow. 

Now, you adore these guys and have paid respects to their fallen brethren…

But that specific one cawing over your computer?

This asshole is taking it too far.

==> Dave: Release your anger

As much as you would like to do that, you’re not the type of asshole to slash a random bird in half just because it invites itself into your dwelling space without permission. You would rather do that to monsters or enemies—none of which you have yet to let loose to. So instead of giving into your annoyance, you cooled off and ignored that rambunctious crow.

Unfortunately, life seemed to be enjoying beating your cool out of you, as another crow flew into your window—why didn’t you even close the damned thing?! The bird had to fly right into your face, almost knocking your shades off!

What the fuck, man?

You yelled as you shooed the crow away from your face, and grimaced at feeling one of its claws scrape the surface of your face when it flew away. You were expecting it to fly out of the window, but it had to fly to your computer as well, and caw angrily—you think, as you had heard that tone of cawing at an aggrieved crow many times—at the first rambunctious crow standing on your CPU. Oh wow, now there’s two crows fighting over your computer for some unknown reason! And it sounds like an old crank scolding a juvenile!

Great.

At least it was amusing to watch.

You immediately ran outside of your room to contact Jade, still eyeing the pair cawing aggressively at each other. You’re pretty much sure if they remembered you exist, they would have assaulted you and your glowing phone. You’re grateful to yourself for having an extra means of communicating with Jade, and now you gotta sort this shit out with your client player.

GG: dave! are you alright?!! D:
TG: im as fine as a child sneaking down the stairs with the caution they have
TG: and sneak at the kitchen to get some cookies
TG: but then they heard some shuffling at the living room and checked it out instead
TG: they then saw fucking barack obama trying to steal santa claus’ cookies and milk at the fireplace
TG: while the latter fat fucker was stuck at the top of the fireplace
TG: oh man santa claus was fuckin cooked by both man and a fireplace
TG: both the worlds of figural and literal had gotten to poor santa claus
TG: and now christmas is cancelled
TG: speaking of christmastime what the fuck do we do with those assholes in my room
GG: i dont think i would be able to throw an object within your room to stop them without damaging your computer :/
GG: ...and it’s gonna be disastrous if it was broken!! :(
GG: the kernelsprite was moving, tho
GG: and right now, it was...hmm...what

You raised a brow at what she meant by the moving kernelsprite, when you recalled she can see your room. But what did she mean by that seizure kernel?

TG: in what way was the sprite moving
TG: like in a way similar to the loading screen of dvds that bounce around the edges of the screen
TG: or was it just hovering up and down
GG: it was…moving to the two crows?

You heard the rumbling within your room quiet out all of a sudden, and you sighed as you cautiously entered. You looked around, and nothing else was messed with, to your great surprise. You turned to your right, and saw Crowsprite—you guess tht would be its shitty name now—hovering over the two crows. The beady eyes of the former were staring at the latter’s, and one of them had an open beak—ready to speak, not ready to let it out.

The three organisms notice your presence, and the two alive crows flew out of the window, one of them remaining perched on its edge. Crowsprite, however, remained within the room without movement other than its shifting, orange colors.

What just happened within these birds?

You sighed as you cautiouly approached your computer. Seeing the other formerly fighting crows are away from it, and no dmage beyond fallen feathers are in sight, you rested your royal ass into your throne.

You started pondering at this unusual situation you are now in, although at this point it should be one of many situations. You wondered if John had an awkward interaction with his sprite, especially with his Nanna coming in later.

TG: did my kernelsprite actually stare down those two crows
TG: or was i going insane from drinking too much aj
TG: might as well say im being addicted to my aj
GG: i don’t think youre going insane or anything dave!
GG: however, your sprite was indeed acting strange towards those two birdies
GG: maybe it was a family reunion for the three of them :D
GG: an awkward family reunion
TG: okay this is all getting unusual lately
TG: but now are you alright there
GG: okay and wide awake! :d

You narrowed your eyes behind your shades as the green text appeared on your phone. You had caught Jade dreaming a few times now, and knowing that she was ‘truly’ awake in her actual island instead of the Prospit thing was a rare occurrence. So you decided to check—she doesn’t think straight while dreaming, which is expected when your body’s literally asleep.

TG: can you humor me a moment jade
GG: what is it?
TG: no offense but you tend to act all cheery and dumb when youre asleep
TG: which might be what youre literally doing right now
GG: oh my gosh im sorry!!!!!!! :(
GG: must had fallen asleep again
TG: you fall asleep at so many times a day
TG: how do you achieve this
GG: no idea :/

You facepalmed, and you looked up to yelp at Crowsprite being so close to you—OH GOD.

You flashstepped away from it as you arrived in another part of your room, and picked up your phone. The fucking sprite seemed to be taken aback, and had kept its distance from you.

Good.

Now…we do some proper shit, such as waking up this princess.

...

...

Why was that sprite so familiar...though?

==> Dave: Timeskip to when shit gets done

You are already in that process, holding a totem that was carved from a Totem Lathe. Crowsprite had been by your side in an eerie manner, watching the way you stride and move around these things. You exited your room when you heard a barrage of cawing within the hallway.

With the cruxite totem on your hands, you carefully meander as you walk past open doors. Black feathers occasionally scattered around the place, and so did Bro’s smuppets which seemed to have a nick or two on each surface area. You can’t access your Strife Specibus at the moment if you were ever jumped by your Bro or a crow, so your red eyes are on the lookout for anyone getting in your way.

As speak of the devil, that was a good decision on your part!

You dodged a crow that flew from your Bro’s room to the kitchen, holding some sticks. You backflipped and balanced  yourself once you landed on some ground. You clicked your tongue as you held your hands up to catch the totem, only for it to float mid-air. Jade had gotten the totem, and she started dragging it into the roof.

Thanks.

Your hands now freed from carrying a hefty object, you equipped your sword and followed the path upwards. Finally, you reached the roof, the scorching and familiar heat of the Texan sun greeting you with its suffocating arms.

==> Reader: Skip a few minutes forward

How long?

==> Uhh…

==> Reader: Skip to when Dave receives his artifact

You remain as Dave and you do just that, taking some sort of orange-colored egg pooped out by a large crow—the latter which poofed out of existence. How did you reach the artifact? By some stairs Jade built you!

You cradled the egg in your arms like you were some sort of mother hen to an abandoned, unhatched chick. Whether this will hatch or not matters the most, though, as you climbed down the game-made stairs.

“Hey there, li’l man.”

And there he is.

Bro was right at the side of the stairway, his katana resting on either of his bulky shoulders. His sharp shades are on his face, as it was regularly on, and his free hand was tucked into one of his pants’ pockets. At his position, you were able to easily spot him at your left side looking up at you, most likely observing your own mishaps.

You were then surprised by the fact he was here of all times and you scolded yourself for being unable to notice when he came. Damn it! However, a part of you was curious enough to wonder if you should ask where Bro went during the time with the Crowsprite shenanigans. Yet instead of that, you simply continued the conversation with him instead, easing your shoulders down.

“Sup, bro,” you verbalized at him, jumping from the last step of stairs into the side where he was idly standing.

“Don't mind me here and my sweet sweet baby,” you started, glancing at the warm egg on your arms. “It needs a refreshment of my warm muscles and the power of patience, and for some reason this is what was left to me when I placed that totem.”

You were about to rant more when Bro spoke up, interrupting your train of thoughts, and suddenly said, “Li’l bro, can you…listen to me and give me a moment?”

You stiffened at Bro’s seemingly innocent question, eyeing him carefully. Whenever he told you to listen to him, it usually resulted in one of three scenarios: either he had a bombshell the size of a nuke to rock your world, which happened once and never again, training time and tips from the training, or telling you to leave him alone. And you were never able to predict what would that bombshell be— hopefully not as large as a nuke this time.

You lowered the egg artifact into the ground and looked at him with your protected eyes. You took a glance at Bro’s face again, and…

…

Bro’s brows (what the fuck lol) are furrowed, and his mouth is still twitched into a state that was indecipherable—but there was a hint of him…hesitating? About what words? “Whatever you wanted to say bro,” you spoke out to your older Brother coolly,  “Count me in, or just say what you have to say.”

You shrugged at him.

Bro didn’t spoke for a moment, and he turned his head somewhere to the point you can briefly see his golden-orange eyes staring off into the distance. Before you can ask however, Bro turned his head back at you and he took out his hoverboard. He dropped it and placed one of his feet on it, before he went near you like a skateboarder dragging his skateboard around a park on a Tuesday.

And to your surprise…he ruffled your hair . The fucking man, your Bro, ruffled your hair . “Be safe out there, Dave,” he spoke out with determination and…something else? You never heard this tone of voice before within bro, and— was he worrying for you? “Beat some asses for me once we get into the game, alright? We’re doing this, man…

“...we’re gonna make it happen.”

He finished his speech and you saw him gain a small grin for a moment he saw your astonished face. What the fuck, Bro? Was everything flipping upside-the-fuck-down now?

And on top of that and him quoting your shitty webcomic, as usual—although it held a bit of significance than the shitpost it was from—he held out his fist at you, expecting a fistbump from the person in front of him. You snapped out of your thoughts and held your stoic smile at him before returning the fistbump. He then hopped onto his hoverboard, lowered his body and flew upwards with one hand holding into the board and another holding up his katana.

You watched him from below, and for a moment you watched him eye you and someone else with…pride? before looking up the sky. What was he looking at—HOLY FUCKING JEGUS CHRIST.

That’s one big-ass meteor .

…you should start reducing your AJ intake.

==> Reader: Be Bro Strider

You can’t be Bro Strider, because why would you be someone who will die soo—

Nah, you can be him. After all, this isn’t a story written from the perspective of exclusively teenagers. You can have a peek at his mind, then!

Plus, who said only the beta trolls would be eventually saved here? Every role have a reason for existing, and it all loops into each other, including the 'being alive' part.

No, you just can’t do that! You won’t find anything of interest within his mind, let alone from any other min—

Blah, blah, blah, I’m not listening!

How will you be able to tell this tale will go differently in the first place?

Have you seen the literal Alternate Universe—Canon Divergence within the tags? Wow, what a random guy you are. Plus, there was already divergence with Bro not holding a strife with Dave, but Dave’s record shirt wasn’t addressed yet and blah blah blah—

==> Reader: …

==> Reader: Ignore the narrative banter and become Bro Strider on the roof

==> …specifically after Dave got his discs.

Your name is Bro Strider, and you remained as Bro Strider, at least that was what your name is to your little brother Dave and for those who were not exactly familiar with you. For those who do, you’re just a guy with a name you would rather not think of for this moment, and you liked swordsmanship, puppets, irony, and puppet irony—whatever that last part means for you.

Anyways, you remained as Derek Strider, former employee of Skaianet, proclaimed king of crows and shitty smuppets by your lil' bro, and you will always remain as…

...

You.

Currently, you’re on the roof, basking on the burning sight of the Texan skies. For some reason only vaguely connected to the end of the world as you and your aquaintances knew of it, it had been red this lately—if “lately” means the entire month beforehand. Even worse, it wasn’t going away and will always stay this way—even gossiping people downtown are wary of the sky’s new color. But besides that, and to the usual nature of the people living within this damned state, no Texan gives a shit about the weather.

…you can’t recall well why were you even here in the first place. You were just taken aback by your own decisions toward Dave quite lately, and how quickly you gave him the SBURB discs. You were actually feeling like giving him a good, old strife at the roof, at this roof specifically, for old times’ sake in exchange for the discs, before you can never…do it again with him.

However…

==> Bro: Remember that moment just hours or so ago

“Sup bro,” Dave idly spoke to you, his shades glaring the reflection of the fiery skies, and his stance wary by the distance. He kicked one of your smuppets that some crow had brought to the roof to the side, but you didn’t paid mind to it. Today is the day the world will end, and you know why—but that reason was not directly why he’s here. To an extent.

Your unheard question got answered when you saw Dave eye your SBURB copies at hand. “I think you know that I know what will we do in exchange for your discs,” Dave uttered, one of his hands ready to take out a weapon from his sylladex. His covered gaze remained focused, and his legs are at a healthy distance from each other.

You looked at your brother's stoic face with one of your own, knowing that he was anticipating a specific object from you. You reached for something, and—

However…you didn’t followed through your regular customs. Not today, somehow. This day was where you were supposed to put up a strife with him, one last strife on the roof, for nostalgia's sake.

One last strife before the world ends entirely.

One last trade-off.

And yet...

==> Flashback!Bro: Shock your brother

—you held up the discs towards him...and tossed it at his direction. He got startled but was able to drop his blade and grab the discs before it hits the ground. “Go on, li’l man.” Wait, what were you thinking with simply giving it to him? “Go play your game with you and your dorks of some friends.”

Dave was stunned for a few moments before you added, “Or if you want a simple strife, then we can do it n—"

He flashstepped back into the roof door, capchalouging the discs. “I’ll take it, and only John’s the dork among us."

You let out an unheard snicker before he walked away to his own room, and you immediately started questioning yourself for your bullshit.

You would like to strangle whoever made you do that choice, although the closest factors that can do such was either something long dead…and gone, or yourself.

Instead, you shook your thoughts off the hypothetical impossibility, and instead you remained standing on top of the roof, watching who seemed to be Dave’s server player placing a SBURB equipment on a higher part of the roof. Whatever this equipment is, you have no knowledge of—as you slept off the times Rox was talking about the equipment parts—and you only know of SBURB’s main mechanics: end the world, do quests, be gods, kill someone, make a new universe, and occassionally complete The Scratch.

But you’re sure that thing with a flat surface up there is a bad idea. So you just glared at the placement choice of the server player, until stairs appeared out of nowhere, winding on the sides.

And then…There you heard it: your li’l man’s gonna come up soon. As his footsteps got louder and louder, you hid behind one of the walls the equipment—you think it was the Alchemiter—was placed on, before you saw Dave on his phone, conversing with someone. You also noticed his sprite, still in its eye-burning, blinking state, and—

…

Why the hell was it somewhat…familiar?

Nevermind, you'll investigate later.

You noticed Dave ascending the stairs to the Alchemiter, and you ran to the bottom of it, making sure your bro wouldn’t notice your presence for now. You then stopped and leaned onto the wall beside you.

Your orange eyes turned toward the sprite—that was what it was called, you supposed—and observed it. It was not in its proper sprite state yet, and a 'proper state' as what Rox had told you involve it having some sort of ghostly tail instead of a seizure ball of light, but the head was obviously a crow’s. However…the way its feathers are trimmed, and the way it was observing Dave watching something glow from the Alchemiter…

...

Oh gog.

You wondered how the hell was he—you think the crow was a he, despite your lack of corvid biology knowledge—here. Did Dave broke the jar by any chance and let the crow’s body out, or was it all just a fucked-up coincedience where this was an identical crow?

No, it’s not a coincedience. This crow is way more behaved than the more civil crows you had encountered at these recent years, instead of letting out deafening caws, and he wasn't hindering Dave in any way by just being beside him—although that last part can be interchangeable with whatever a sprite guide can do.

The kernelsprite then started backing off, and you can see Dave heading down the flight of stairs. You decided to ignore the sprite, and instead focused on your li’l bro, holding your sword up at one of your shoulders and tucking your other sword at your pants. You called out at him, and he was mildly shocked at your appearance.

Ha—haven’t he saw you down here? He seemed to have his guard down.

You two looked face-to-face, and at some moments of your conversation, you were hesitating…to give him a “keep safe” sort of statement.

You ruffled his hair, to his mild surprise, and you quoted his shitty webcomic to at least ease him a bit. You are now on your hoverboard, and you stared up the sky fully turning red from the inevitable end.

==> Bro: Do the thing.

You have yet to do “the thing”, as there are several "the things" you need to focus shit on, but for now now…

A large chunk of a meteor was heading right at you, and your sword is held up. You were up the sky, and below, you can see Dave and Crowsprite watching over the egg artifact. You took a deep breath and was ready to cut a meteor in half.

Anything to ignore that orange-colored reminder of what happened before.

==> Bro: Be someone else…

==> …

==> [S] Two Musicians, One Lost (Crowsprite: Be yourself)

Chapter Text

==> …

==> [S] Two Musicians, One Lost (or Crowsprite: Be yourself)

The sky waxed in neon red as its heat rose up in the air. It felt so painful to look at when you looked up, as its reds and yellows mixed like melted crayons. Downwards, it was even more painful to hear the sounds caused by discord and panic, where fires spread and people yell out loud, trying to flee the inevitable. And going back upwards, there were threads of clouds being repeatedly torn off by numerous, falling collections of meteors. Small meteors, big meteors, all sorts of meteors. 

But  why would size even matter anymore when everyone is panicking over this meteor-based apocalypse each meteor is a part of? None of these meteors should matter much.

Well…besides the one meteor possibly large enough to create a lake-worthy crater, that is…because that thing is heading near where you are now .

Your helpless mind was about to spew out a train of frazzled thoughts, and you were able to suppress it in time. To sum it up, you decided to set aside your internal existential crisis and the new sensations which came with this…body. Instead, you simply gazed above the falling, now-cloudless skies.

And now was the time to contemplate on your thoughts.

==> Crowsprite: Introduce yourself

Huh??? Why would you—oh, of course, you realized that whoever is watching over your thoughts and perspective must be confused at your…existence.

Your name was long lost in time, and it better be this way (not that you preferred its existence to be referred to again—it was randomly unique and unoriginal at the same time, and maybe hearing it will give you PTSD). But for now, you can simply be referred to as Crowsprite. Around a decade ago or more, you used to be alive, until you are no more (you cannot vividly remember it or the exact date of your second passing, but you were aware enough of the connections between faces and ages to figure out that, yup, you last saw Dave as a wee toddler).

And right now? You are alive again…as alive as sprites can be. Ignoring your second train of thoughts regarding selfhood, you decided to observe what changed with your surroundings—besides the obvious that is the literal end of the world.

You looked in a certain direction to see y our Hero of Time the younger Strider on the roof, his head leaning up to the sky’s general direction with his emotions shielded underneath his black aviators. The egg artifact was still cradled in Dave’s arms, and although it appeared to be apparent that he could break it, the item was surprisingly sturdy—indicating that the artifact wasn’t meant to be shattered. To your surprise, though, he was being careful with it. After all, if it prematurely breaks, it’s an automatic game over.

Meanwhile, a few of your scattered crow brethren littered around the rooftop, showing more silence than typical for their typical antics. The amount appeared to be fewer than what appeared in the canon panels (that was a weird detail you remembered over, say, Gamzee’s horns) but it must have meant the general population of your kin had taken shelter down below. You wanted to ask them about their reasons to be within this area of danger— and ask how their population continued to thrive without your presence —but you have to focus on your player.

Dave looked down on the ground when he took out his phone from his captchalogue deck—seeing such video game-esque elements appear as how it exactly looked like in canon was jarring at first, but now it was somewhat desensitizing. After all, you had seen worse—and that is a can of worms to understand for later. He sat down on the rooftop with a calm face, right where the green cursor version of the SBURB logo had repositioned the Alchemiter (although, he didn’t see it moving around, and only you can as a game construct). He had set his entry item beside his position and he turned on his phone, typing into it. By the way his emotions subtly leak from his calm facade, with his brows furrowing and relaxing at certain beats of his fingers gliding over his screen, one of his co-players was holding their conversation with him on the other end of the line. 

Dave observed his server player, Jade Harley, mess with the roof (well, as much as he can see her antics), and you saw the original stairs that used to lead upward to the Alchemiter’s old position being highlighted. It then vanished into nothing and was converted into low-quality grist for later uses.

You decided to hover towards Dave, peeking at his chats. Unfortunately, at a safe distance, the green and red texts are too small to read properly, but deciphering some of it revealed that Jade was about to add the other game equipment. You were about to go nearer when the chat itself showed up into your peripheral vision.

Oh wow, this is…somewhat convenient, if not invasive. Still, you hoped it wouldn't imply anything unusual in the future, or it simply imply the odd nature of sprites and the way they interact with electronics. Eh, whatever, time to snoop texts you are already aware of.

==> Crowsprite: View Pesterlog

GG: ok here we go
GG: there are some things we can deploy and some things we dont have nearly enough grist for!
TG: you mean the jumper block thing
GG: no no weve got enough for that....
GG: but its still pretty expensive
TG: wait what
TG: the thing costs 1000 for me
GG: yeah me too!
GG: and we have 2000 to work with
GG: ok 1998 ._.
TG: what
TG: man i only got 200 to splash around with in roses rainbow world

Oh. Of course they'll run out quickly. But if Dave gets to activate the GristTorrent, they might be saved...

Anyways, back to the convo.

TG: what the hell
TG: also i gotta say something
TG: theres like a big ass meteor literally coming after me now
TG: and when i said big i meant something by the size of fucking texas
GG: oh no! D:
GG: we gotta get these equipment ready now
GG: at least your artifact is still somewhat intact…
TG: hell yea i had been protecting it like a mother hen
TG: rolling down the hills and chasing her precious eggs
TG: and when she went to the lowest point of the hill she slipped and slid into it
TG: only problem for misfortune is that a miracle happened
TG: fucking egg didnt cracked even with her ass being on it
TG: like how
GG: youre such a dork dave! :D
TG: i thought johns our dork

Lmao.

GG: :)
TG: jade-
GG: anyways we gotta set up some few things here now and i gotta inquire
GG: how much did rose start with? when she was playing with john?
TG: hang on ill ask
GG: k
TG: okay
TG: well
TG: she says 20
GG: i guess we keep getting more with each server/client connection!
TG: yeah
TG: we gotta get this done quickly now
TG: meteors right near me
TG: time to speedrun this shit or something
GG: i think we could deploy a few less expensive equipment now

As you were intrigued by the slight adjustments of this specific banter, three objects appeared on the roof, one making a loud *thud*. The larger equipment connected to the Alchemiter , and was no other than The Jumper Block Extension, shaped like a thick captchalogue card with holes in it. The Punch Card Shunt was connected to the Jumper afterwards, and while knowledge buzzed within your head about what this is for, you ignored it.

(It was getting harder to do so. Your sprite mind keeps on supplying random, useless info. Like, what the hell is a ‘Bed Backup’?!) 

For other topics, the smaller and lighter object Jade spawned in was a green and white disc containing the Gristtorrent program. And as both sides of your memories indicated, there was no other elaboration other than a grist version of a specialized Google Drive. The thin disc appeared right beside Dave. As he picked it up and captchalogued it, you now noticed that his original discs…weren’t around the roof. 

Huh, must have been because he didn’t kill Rambunctious Crow (if…they? She? He? If it was there when you were still thriving, you would had called her Ramby) on accident and kept it in his sylladex instead. And as a consequence to that, he had no recently-dead corvid that will be prototyped.

But it seems like this universe was prepared for this void within its existence. Instead of Rambunctious Crow, it had apparently predicted your death, probably made Jade dream about you, and made her…prototype you…

…

…

You were grateful (you were not) with being alive, but still…

The feeling of…being revived, yet again, was something you will never get used to—even if you might have to experience it again in the unseen future, and even when you already did it in the past. It was a feeling of being burned alive, put together by a worse Frankenstein, and then breathing as if something was lodged within your narrow esophagus. Or perhaps the feeling of something stuck within your lungs before the non-existent material was coughed out and your airways were no longer obstructed. 

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t feel your lungs, and yet your past reflexes and muscle memory kept on insisting that you can. Your chest feels constricted, it felt like it was burning your insides to a crisp, and it felt like something was lodged into it—which is ironic (well fuck, if you’ll start using Dave’s terms then so be it!) since you don’t even have a sword into your body!

You had before and it still hurts to breathe breathe breathe after that time—

Maybe it was just a sprite thing, maybe it was just your own corvid biology and the fact you were drenched wet for a reason you had been questioning lots—were you pickled ?! 

Or maybe, it was simply the powers that be in this world messing with you, other than the Horrorterrors, since they might not give a shit, let alone your…benefactor who reincarnated you…

Of course you would never suspect them.

They…are somehow chill for someone mysterious and looming, and with their last conversations with you, their intentions, at best, are benevolent. You hope that your hypotheses on their nature were true, or close to the truth, and that fucking up a few times won’t make them smite you on the spot. And you crossed non-existent fingers that they don’t intend anything for you that involves the metaphor of chess. 

Or whatever. 

Whatever are you even rambling about in your mind...

Notwithstanding all of these mysteries surrounding your soul as a choice of being reincarnated, the whole damned existence of SBURB, and damning Hussie for all of these, your revival—second revival—was not the enigma of this situation. 

It was just “an”. Another oddity you have to get used to.

Rather…the reason you died a second time is the main enigma, specifically its whole event.

You weren’t aware how your current physiology can cough blood, but you were struggling to breath at this point. Blood is everywhere, and not all of it belonged to anyone but you.

You were struggling to feel your feathers, muscles and bones, weighted by the cold metal lodged into your chest.

You were struggling to hear your kins’ distressed squawks 

You were struggling to see those horrified eyes behind those triangular shades

You were struggling to hold on for him

You were struggling to look at him for the last time with eyes of self-inflicted guilt and forgiveness—

And you would rather not think of it anymore. Not now…

Don’t be distracted. Don’t dare to be.

You steered away from Dave’s chats—you don’t wanna intrude anymore, and you trusted him, even if he doesn’t trust you—and stared at the red skies of the apocalypse. 

And continued on staring as Dave continued on typing…

—

You knew how short it was for Dave to enter The Medium, but GOGDAMN what the hell was making this feel long?!

==> Crowsprite: Squawk like an idiot and spill your fluids over the alchemiter

Eew! What the hell was that thought?! 

You’re not gonna do that, no thank you. Instead, you were just gonna try to eavesdrop within another conversation, and…wait…

What was that in the sky…

OH NO—

==> Crowsprite: BEWARE 

Shit.

The air shifted all of the sudden, something breezing past you. You cocked your corvid head around, and you ended up seeing Derek with his katana raised up…and a meteor cut in half. The meteor halves proceeded to fall down as expected, burning all the way, and—

You internally winced as the meteors fell, as if you could be affected. But even if you were now a floating sprite—more like a kernelsprite (just a kernel, you reminded yourself, you fool; you haven’t entered SBURB yet)—and thus has nothing connecting you to the ground, you can still see and feel the whole city shake from the cascading barrages of falling meteors. The same can be said for the meteor Bro just sliced in half, and it was a danger due to its near proximity to the apartment. This added up to the constant meteor-made earthquakes, if not amplifying it. To make things worse….

Dave was somehow near the edge when it happened, and the powers that be decided to test if gravity works... 

The subject of this experiment of Life? 

He tripped he tripped this is getting worse—

Him.

Even with the way you are now and ever, you can still feel panic and urgency climb up into you as you were too far from Dave when his foot stepped a bit too far, and the meteor halves crashed at that same damn time. He started to fall from the roof, the egg artifact slipping from his grasp and his shades falling off. Oh no, oh no, this is terrible.

==> Crowsprite: Do something! 

You still have no idea how your current sprite state works, but you are still able to move as if you were still in your original body—the crow body. And so you ‘flew’ downwards as fast as possible, hot wind rushing at the sides quite loudly. You quickly eyed the falling form of Dave, and the egg falling right above him. But…what if you failed, what if you can’t reach him in time, what if—

No. Think later, act now.

Dave started screaming in panic as he struggled to move mid-air, his frantic cries piercing through the tense and blazing atmosphere around you. You raised your wings and flew downwards, attempting to avert this crisis. You could feel the chills as you witnessed his desperate state unfold before you (and how wrong it is to see him in this state), but you trudged on. 

And at this critical moment, Bro swooped in right beside you with remarkable speed on his hoverboard. The sudden appearance of his dynamic presence next to you brought a renewed sense of urgency in this situation. You briefly saw his eyes, ablaze with determination and focus, locked onto Dave, mirroring your own fleeting determination to prevent his impact into the ground. In that fleeting moment of synchronized action, the intense rivalry for Dave's rescue manifested as a high-speed chase between you and Bro.

However, despite the elder Strider's initial advantage, your sheer willpower and determination propelled you forward, inching closer towards Dave in a race against time and destruction. With each passing second, the anticipation and adrenaline surged within you, heightening the stakes as you pushed yourself to the limits to reach Dave before it was too late.

'Come on, quick, quick, grab him!' You urged yourself with pleading words, your mind and body synchronized in a focused pursuit of ensuring Dave's safety and averting a potential disaster in the nick of time. 

And then…

WOOSH!

You immediately stopped from bumping into a wall, cradling something warm on your chest. You held your wings together, and took a glance at the object you were carrying. To your shock, you simply got the egg…somehow. 

…oh.

You gazed your eyes upward, locking onto the sight of Bro Strider gently cradling Dave in his arms as they soared towards the roof on his hoverboard. Without hesitation, you made the swift decision to speed up your pace, the timer ticking within your mind. Arriving in the area just as they did, Bro's expression shifted abruptly to one of surprise and apprehension as he noticed your presence, causing him to come to an immediate standstill. Sensing his unease, in a way, you extended the egg artifact towards him, a gesture that caught him completely off guard.

“...alright.” Bro then remained silent as he laid Dave into the ground. He then took the egg from your grasp, carrying it like it was a fragile thing - and, to be honest, it is, if it was in the wrong hands.

And thankfully, he doesn’t count as those ‘wrong hands’.

"What the fuck." Dave mumbled as he straightened himself on the rooftop where his brother had carried him. A glint of recognition sparked in his eyes as they fell upon the egg nestled in Bro's hands, a subtle smile flickering across his face before he adopted his characteristic poker face once more. “Thanks…Bro.” You and Bro were unable to respond coherently before Dave took the egg. 

At the same time, it started shaking on the latter Strider’s grasp, sending shivers down his spine as the entry item began to crack with glowing, yellow cracks that seemed to pulsate ominously. The timer within your head struck, counting down with a sense of urgency.

The top of the fractured object fully gave way, exposing a blinding light that erupted, momentarily blinding Dave and causing him to drop the egg’s shell. The flash of light soared upwards, piercing the red sky like a contrasting firework, drawing gasps from those watching in awe. You were only able to make out the light’s form as it took on the shape of a magnificent light-based crow, its iridescent feathers reminiscent of a newborn phoenix.

The air crackled with energy, and in an instant, everything became bright and blinding.

And the Knight of Time had arrived in The Medium.

==> Meanwhile…

Hands typed into a slightly worn-down keyboard, clicking and clacking as its keys typed its words. The owner of these hands decided to ignore their surroundings and its everyday chatter, favoring to focus their eyes upon the screen showing a few timelines. 

If they time it right (haha, Time), they can catch him at a less…chaotic moment. Perhaps…the time he still sticks around on his planet?

Oh well…let’s do this.

–daydreamSanctum [DS] started trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at ##:##--
DS: Apologies for the intrusion but this is kinda important to me
DS: Dear Strider...
DS: Can you observe this conversation?

==> ????: Be someone else for the moment

A young girl sat on a sandy beach. Today is a day where she played a world-ending game with one John Egbert and all their other friends. She just finished typing one part of the SBURB walkthrough, and you are ready to name her.

Oh wait, you don’t have to. You already have a name, and you are she who is the Seer of Light (even if you are unaware of the title’s existence and presence in you.)

You are ROSE LALONDE, and you have remained as Rose for the last few hours you trekked these sandy beaches.

Ever since you entered this game, and your mother is nowhere in sight other than a note from her, you have been walking and walking, stopping by occasionally to compose yourself and pester your friends—your conversation with Jade regarding grist count has brevity and ended quite quickly. You had some small hope that she was somewhere near, sneaking around the area, ready to catch you off-guard. 

However, besides a few game enemies bearing jester clothes and/or your cat Jaspers’ face, there was nothing of note. 

You are currently walking towards a village containing your consorts, some turtles in pink. As the rain of many colors of blue, yellow, and pink poured from the sky, you yearned for more answers to this predicament. You have a feeling that there is more to this game than you know…

And you needed all the knowledge to continue on. 

You stare off the colorful horizon, the raining precipitation reflecting a glint of Skaia’s light and the seas itself. Islands scattered everywhere, and the sea is ever so deep. Your sprite, Jaspersspite, had been playing on the sand, creating small mounds with his tentacle arms. 

And speaking of playing…

You were told by your dear sprite to ‘play the rain’, whatever it means . The rain does not look like something you can grasp, unlike the strings of the violin you owned. And you were not interested in playing your violin at the moment, because as you had said before, you are too busy pursuing the inner workings of SBURB.

Yet again, boredom struck as you rested.

*Ping !*

…

Seems like your boredom is instantaneous in its arrival and departure.

You perked up at the sound of your alchemized laptop and a notification within it. You sat down as you opened it, seeing that the notification came from your chat client, Pesterchum. Dave was busy, most likely getting himself into The Medium, Jade wasn’t giving any sign she was active, and John— huh ?

You narrowed your gaze at the new and unknown person who was messaging you, their jade-colored username and text reflecting across your eyes. And…you recalled a simple detail.

Your friends were being pestered, or ‘trolled’ by how their conversation tags start, for the last few months, and especially now. And as much as there were a few exceptions amongst them, such as a person clad in an orange-like text Jade had some good conversations with, you were still wary of trusting these ‘trolls’—some of them sounded horrible towards your friends. However, you decided to humor this…

’...grimAuxilliatrix’ . 

–grimAuxilliatrix [GA] started trolling tentacleTherapist [TT] at ##:##--
GA: Greetings Dear Rose
GA: I Hope I Am Not Too Late To Turn This Conversation Around
GA: And I Wonder If I Do

Well, isn’t this a bit interesting?

==> Rose: Converse with "GA"