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Dave: Fix It.

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This was getting so stupid. 

How many times had he seen his friends die, had seen the body of his older brother, had died himself? He lost count a long-ass time ago, and at this point, it was just really fucking stupid. 

Again and again, Dave Strider turned his tables and reversed and fast forwarded and did his best to just fucking fix it. 

{this is stupid} 

It wasn’t working. 

It seemed like, though the Alpha timeline was doing just fine, the doomed timelines were countless and the bodies of the people he cared about most were piling and piling up. 

{this is stupid} 

Just moments ago, he’d looked into the dead eyes of Rose Lalonde, and it was almost like they were begging him to help her, to fix it. Her grimdark magic needles fell at his feet, still sparking.

{this is stupid}

He was nearly dead not too long after, and he decided that he had fucking had it. He was done, that was it, it needed to stop happening. 

So he did his timey thing, turning his tables, getting back to the Alpha timeline. 

{this is stupid}

He hadn’t even noticed that he himself had changed, skin glowing darkly, whisps of shadow curling around him. He wasn’t even really sure where he’d ended up. All he really knew was that he was done with this steaming, heaping pile of utter and complete shit. 

{this is really fucking stupid} 

Dave Strider had officially gone grimdark.

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He could see it all.

All of the timelines, all of the different ways things turned out (not how they /would/, mind you; he’s not a Seer. There’s a difference between seeing possible possibilities and seeing the things that would happen, that actually did happen, and it’s strictly a timey-wimey thing), all the people who died.

All of the friends who died.

All of the Daves who died.

It was somehow easier than before; he wasn’t aware of the horrorterrors wrapping him in their dark tentacles, caressing him, digging into his mind.

He could see it all.

Piles of dead bodies, blood, blood, so much blood, dead eyes, pale skin, broken glasses, broken swords, bullets, green light, blood, death, death, death.

It made something in his heart coil and uncoil, a snake of dark, of pain.

He could see it.

Pasts and futures and presents.

He could see it.

The giant goddamned clockwork of Time, the link to his tables, how he could speed it up or slow it down however he pleased. He could probably even make timelines collide with each other, twist them up, make ‘em interfere...

He could totally fuck

time

up.

Oh my god.

{fuck time up}

He was the goddamned, motherfucking Knight of Time, after all. He could totally...

...{wreck this shit}.

He paused, looking at one of the gears, looking, looking, and he could see John, little John, just a kid with his cute little spades shirt....

If he wrecked shit up, he wondered if it would stop. Of course it would. He could...

He could create motherfucking Time bubbles. Like dream bubbles, but a shit ton cooler. He could trap people in their own twisted timelines, fuck up their time... and they maybe...

They wouldn’t die. They’d be on a constant loop, growing (notdying) and rebirthing and alive.

He could still fix it. There was still motherfucking Time.

A smirk came to his lips. He knew what to do. He knew how to fix it.

He was going

to

fix

it.

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John would be first.

Of course he would. He was Dave’s best friend, after all. His very best friend, the bro-est of bros, best palhancho. He would save him first 

[since he was the first he failed, the first he let die, the first--]

and he would be safe and alive, even if it were trapped in a chaotic bubble of Time. His best bro, nice and safe and--

No, no, wait. He was getting a little ahead of himself. Wait, no, stop.

He wanted them all to be together. All four of them. Happy. [Driven insane from too much time shit.] Alive. Together. [Trapped.]

That wouldn’t be too hard. He could easily... he could knot them together, just as he’d thought about doing before. The four of them could be happy. Deliriously happy, trapped in Time, and it would be sick, it would be the best goddamned beat he’d ever lay, ever.

And John would be first.

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He always had a way of smiling that showed off his buck teeth in all their glory. Not that it was ever really quite that dramatic, but Dave had always liked to make it seem like it was.

He was smiling like that right now, as Dave approached, the dark tentacles still twisting around him. Neither boy paid much attention to it, as if oblivious.

John couldn’t know what Dave was intending to do. He instead babbled on and on about how cool it was that he could do the windy thing, how excited he was to meet everyone all together, how he adored his daughter Casey, woah he didn’t realize Dave actually had an actual accent like an actual Texan accent from Texas, wow!

Dave agreed, poker face a little softer as a smile threatened to come through. John looked happy, babbling away excitedly, but he could see the hurt in his eyes, the age.

He asked him how he was holding up.

“What do you mean, Dave? I just told you, I--”

“No, man. How are you holdin’ up?”

John’s smile seemed to fall just a little bit, but he simply reassured him that he was just fine. He’d be okay; they all would!

Yes, Dave agreed silently, they would.

“Hey, bro. Wanna see somethin’ cool?”

Of course he did.

So Dave concentrated until he can see those sky blue gears, see John’s timelines, reached out to his tables, spinning, spinning--

John tilted his head in confusion, smile dropping just a little. “Dave?”

Their surroundings were beginning to shift, to blur, a whirl of colour. The wind had picked up and was thrashing about them, as if they were in the eye of the storm.

.:.THE FIRST SIGNS OF CHAOS, SURELY.:.

“Don’t worry, man, I’m gonna fix it. Gonna make it so it don’t hurt anymore. It’ll be all better, Egbert.”

He watched as John’s eyes widened, appearing blank, a pale, muted blue. It hurt a little to see that, but he knew it’d be better in the end.

He watched as John relived his memories, could see them blurring together. It must be maddening...

At least he was alive.

Dave put his forehead to John’s, hands on his shoulders, voice low. “Don’t sweat it, bro. Keep chill. You ain’t gonna be alone much longer, kay? Just stay here where it’s safe.”

John didn’t answer, the look of confusion and loss strong in his blank eyes.

{at least hes alive}

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Who else but his own sister to be next? 

“Not that I don’t believe the new... grimdark and tentacle-laden look you’ve acquired doesn’t suit you, Dave, because you pull it off surprisingly well, however, I do believe it’s bordering on unhealthy.” She looked so concerned, lips in a thin, frowning line.  “That is to say, you shouldn’t really be having such grimdark tentacles about you, you know. Is everything all right?”

Dave only chuckled, let her know that he was just perfectly fine.

Because he figured it out. He knew how to fix it.

She looked intrigued by this answer, of course, if not a little wary. “May I ask you for the details to this supposed solution, Dave?”

A smirk made its way to his lips. She looked uneasy. “Dave? You must understand why I am now feeling skeptical of your previous answer to my question that you are perfectly fine, if I wasn’t before.”

“Now’s not the time to get your psychobabble shit goin’, Lalonde. ‘Ve got stuff to do. Things to fix. Tables to turn. Swag to flaunt.” He raised his hands, the tables starting to make themselves seen. “You gotta check this out, Lalonde. I’m gonna fix everythin’.”

She swallowed, staring. “What do you mean, Dave? What are you doing?”

“Nothin’ to worry about, sis. Just gonna fuck time up a bit, y’know? Fix everything.” {and no one will die again no one ever again}

(she really should have seen this coming. she was a Seer after all)

“Dave, I know it seems like a good idea, but it really isn’t a prudent suggestion. Perhaps you should just inform me as to why you are so distraught, let me help--”

“I told you. Everythin’s cool, Lalonde. I’ve got this.”

“Dave, you understand why I cannot let you do this? It will not bode well.” Her knitting needles were at the ready. “I really do not want to take to strifing with you, Dave, but if that’s what it takes to stop this ludicrous plan of yours--”

Dave began to spin.

Rose lunged forward, needle brandished.

“Chill, Rose. I’m gonna make everythin’ better. I‘ve gotta make everythin‘ better. ‘S all my fault, y‘know.”

She, paused, looking as if her heart would break, her grip on her needles still tight. “Dave... It is not your fault. You are not responsible for any of this. Don‘t be stupid. Just... put the tables away, you aren't at all thinking rationally--!”

He’d already sped up the spinning. Their surroundings began to blur.

“Sorry, Lalonde. I’ll catch up with you when I’m done with this time shit. We’ll chill like bros.”

{alive alive shes alive shes alive shes alive everyones going to be alive}

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It only went without saying, with John and Rose taken care of, that Jade would be next.

Even in this state, Dave felt the (horrifyingly unironic) flutter in his chest just thinking about it. She definitely needed to be saved. He couldn’t leave her, of all people, behind.

He wondered if he could use this as some kind of ironic way of confession. Or something. Hell, anything to show how he felt before he pretty much drove her insane--

{but thats not a bad thing shouldnt feel bad itll keep her alive and safe itll keep them all alive and save them itll}

“Dave?”

Oh.

There she stood. He didn’t realize he’d already made his way to where she was until he saw her, in her silly get-up and her rifle in hand. She looked... really concerned.

“Oh, noo, Dave! Are you okay? What’s wrong? What happened?” She ran up to him and had her hands on his face before he could even blink, her wide green eyes looking into his as if she knew where the pupils were behind the dark lenses.

Oh, fuck.

She knew, she knew what he’d done, and a sliver of guilt made itself known, except there wasn’t a reason to be guilty, right?

Right?

“What did you do?”

Why was she asking? She already knew, didn’t she?

“Fixed it. Or started to. Got a long way to go, Harley.”

She paused before speaking, taking a deep breath. “I can barely get a hold of the others. They said you did something. They said you’re really hurt. I think. They said a bunch of other stuff, too, but it was... It didn’t make sense. Like... like they were reliving stuff. Or something. What. Did. You. Do.”

“I... I saved ‘em.”

“Yeah, I got that part, fuckass.  Just tell me what the fuck you did to do it.” There was a gun aiming between his eyes, her own narrowed at him.

“I... fucked time up.”

{its the only way to save you the only way the only way i can fix it what else am i supposed to do what else what else what else}

He had the sinking feeling that she was going to be horribly, horribly angry with him as he explained the details. She just didn’t understand! He knew Time like the back of his hand, knew it like he knew sick beats, knew how it worked, how it operated, and he was using it to fix everything.

“So I saved ‘em. Gonna save you, too, Harley. We’ll all be in our bitchin’ Time bubbles and shit. It’ll be the bee’s fucking knees.”

At any other circumstance, she would have laughed at his totally ironic (and horribly lame) lingo. This wasn’t any other circumstance, though, and despite the slightest twitch in her lips and a sort of... pained? flicker in her eyes, she made no response.

“Dave...” She didn’t lower her gun. She wasn’t moving at all and she was staring right the fuck at him holy shit that was scary because she fucking knew where his eyes were. “You know you can’t do this, right? You can’t. It’ll only make it worse. It’ll only make everything worse, Dave, come on! You’re not that stupid!” 

Despite her shaking voice, her hold on the gun was steady. “I’ll blast this timeline to pieces right now if you don’t stop.”

Dave’s eyes widened behind his shades, and he couldn’t help but take a step back.

The gun went off.

{FUCK--!}

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Your name is Dave Strider, and you are eight years old. Your bro has allowed you to use the computer, and you feel rather excited, even though you know better than to show it. Sort of. You’re still pretty young and not too good at this whole poker-faced-irony-cool thing, but you know you will be.

You see, over the past few weeks, you’ve started talking to these people. You talk to a lot of people, but there are three in particular that you have come to genuinely enjoy speaking to. It’s exciting, you’re excited, and you really like them. You don’t know their real names (you’re all too young! they insist.), but you have this feeling that you will, this feeling that you’ll only get closer.

-

You’re ten years old. 

The three friends you made two years ago have become solid, best friends for you. Seriously, this is the shit old movies are made of when it comes to John Egbert, Rose Lalonde, Jade Harley, and yourself.

They were there to distract you from the stress caused by the assholes at school (they just don’t understand how cool you really are, and they like making fun of your hair and /love/ trying to see your eyes, trying to take away your shades. Bro was teaching you how to strife, so usually you could hold your own, though it sometimes results in suspension. No fighting on school grounds, you see.) and they have proved to be pretty valuable to your music-making, giving their (definitely less cool than Dirk’s, but still cool nonetheless. In their own way.) opinions and critique and even letting you have tracks of their own work. 

They put up with your somewhat-ridiculous babbling habit you’re not sure where you picked up, and they are scary good at seeing through all of your ironic phrasing. Lalonde can tell things just by what you’re saying, which is really kind of creepy but at the same time okay because it’s Lalonde, that’s just how it is. John knows because of some weird best-bro instinct you happened to have as well when it came to him, and Harley...

Harley seems to know a lot. She’s always saying weird stuff about things that’ll happen or something. It’s only a little freaky, but at the same time, kind of endearing. Not that you’re really all that aware of what that means, but you feel like it’s right. Honestly, you think she’s actually kind of cute (which you would never admit to anyone, not anyone ever!) and she’s blunt at times, not at all afraid to fight back with anyone, but it’s nice. You like it a lot.

- 

You’re twelve years old.

Who needs the jerks at school? Though you could still hear the murmurs in the hall, see the rude gestures during class, feel the spitballs as you walked, you know they wont actually do anything more than the petty stuff. Dirk made sure of that. /You/ made sure of that.

Besides, you aren’t really feeling lonely anymore. You have your friends, and though you probably would never say it out loud, they are probably the coolest people you know (other than Dirk). They still talk to you, even though you’ve come to realize how lame you actually are and how so un-like /Dirk/ you are, and they humor you, which is awesome.

Harley seems to think you’re legitimately cool. You really like that.

She’s been really excited about something lately, but she wont say what. Whatever. You’ll find out in time; you always do. She’s been like this for as long as you’ve all known her, and that’s just how it is.

You’re sure whatever it is, though, is probably going to be pretty fucking sweet for all of you.

-

You’re thirteen years old.

You’ve come to the realization that you’ve mistaken ‘pretty fucking sweet’ for ‘pretty fucked-up as shit.’

You understand why she was so excited, though; you guys can all meet and play together! That part’s pretty cool. She was also excited because there’s this weird kind of destiny vibe from it all, and you realize you’ve probably been waiting for this steaming pile of bullshittery your entire life.

That doesn’t make it any less painful, though.

-

You’re still thirteen years old, but you feel so much fucking older than that. Everything seems so long and old and you hate it.

-

You are even still thirteen years old, believe it or fucking not not, and you are vaguely aware that you’ve kind of gone completely off the motherfucking deep end.

This is a stupid plan, a really stupid plan. You know it. It just hurts so much, you can’t really think straight, you can’t really figure out what it is exactly that you’re supposed to do anymore and you just want to

.:GIVE UP: .

cry and curl up and give up and it fucking hurts and you’re only thirteen fucking years old and you really fucking miss your older brother and this is all really too fucking much and--

 

Jade Harley is kissing you and

holy shit

Jade Harley is kissing you.

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He wasn’t really sure what just happened.

He could have sworn she was about to put a bullet through his head, could have sworn he even heard it go off.

He realized that she’d tilted the gun so that when it went off, the bullet went past his head.

What the fuck?

He was reasonably thrown off and a little stunned after she pulled away from the (1.54 second-long) kiss, gun still in hand. She was scowling at him. "You're so stupid sometimes, Dave."

What...?

And then she was swinging the gun, the butt of it aimed for his head. He felt a weird pulsing in him, and his sword was in his hand and he was swinging it--

But she must have seen it coming, dodging accordingly and again the gun was headed toward him.

A dark voice, garbled and hard to understand whispered in his mind. It was speaking some weird fucking language or something and he couldn’t really tell what it was saying but he got the message and was a little horrified, just a little, at the implication.

He was not about to kill Jade Harley. That was not something he was willing to do. Fuck up her timelines, yeah, it’d save her so yes. But he would never kill her. He couldn’t do that.

He managed to drop his sword...

...and his world blacked out.

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He wasn’t really sure what just happened.

He could have sworn she was about to put a bullet through his head, could have sworn he even heard it go off.

He realized that she’d tilted the gun so that when it went off, the bullet went past his head.

What the fuck?

He was reasonably thrown off and a little stunned after she pulled away from the (1.54 second-long) kiss, gun still in hand. She was scowling at him.

What...?

And then she was swinging the gun, the butt of it aimed for his head. He felt a weird pulsing in him, and his sword was in his hand and he was swinging it--

But she must have seen it coming, dodging accordingly and again the gun was headed toward him.

A dark voice, garbled and hard to understand whispered in his mind. It was speaking some weird fucking language or something and he couldn’t really tell what it was saying but he got the message. She was trying to stop the plan? Didn’t she understand? He could fix it, he could! He told her as such.

She smiled at him, and it was a sad smile that almost physically hurt him to see. “You’re so stupid sometimes, coolkid. You know you can’t do that. You know why you can’t do that. You think Rose and John actually want the world you put them in? That’s torture, Dave. That’s worse than killing them.”

He didn’t want to hear this.

He didn’t. he didnt he didnt he didnt

“Shut up, Har--”

“You shut up, fuckass!  Shut up and listen, okay? You have those gross tentacles and stuff all over you, and I think it’s messing with your head! It’s... you’re desperate, Dave, and that’s okay! We all are! This is getting really scary and really tiring, but... But you can’t do this!”

didnt want to hear--

“It’s not going to save anyone.”

no

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no no no no  no

Dave wasn’t a coolkid anymore, because coolkids don’t fucking cry, and what was he doing right now? Crying like some goddamned baby that just crawled from a meteor or something.

His skin felt colder than before, he felt like ice. His vision was clouding, like he was seeing everything through a filter behind his shades.

He just wanted to fix everything.

He never wanted to hurt them.

He was such a goddamned fuck-up.

“Dave? Dave, are you listening?” Her voice was worried now, no longer sounding all that angry.

He could see her in little details, her sleeve, her hands, the gun - it was like he could only focus on one thing at a time. She was coming closer, so he stepped back.

“Yeah, all ears. All cool over here, Harley. Can’t let you get too close. Can’t handle all my Strider swag.”

He shifted his gaze around until he could see her face, see her expression. Shit. It didn’t look like she was buying it.

“Dave...”

He hurt his best friend and he hurt his sister and he really didn’t want to hurt Jade next, didn’t want to--

how can someone fuck up so badly seriously what the fuck is wrong with you strider FUCK WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

Everything was far too cold, far too dark, his vision was only getting cloudier and his thoughts were numb and he couldn’t tell if it was he who was screaming or not.

Everything felt fast and slow and wrong.

hahaHAHAHA LOOKS LIKE ITS ANOTHER DOOMED FUCKING TIME LINE GOOD JOB STRIDER GOOD JOB