So... Here have this *flings fic at you and runs away*

Disclaimer: HussieHussieHussie

WARNINGS: After EndGame, eventual Hammertime/pepsicola/JohnDave, singleparent!Dave, umm I haven't thought it out that much we'll see when we get there

Anyway

Here

It was hot, dark, and your body felt like it was dying. Those were the first three things you noticed when you woke up from the End Game. You reacted quickly, hands scrabbling to find purchase in the rough brick wall behind you as you heave yourself up despite the pain shooting through your veins. Your eyes take in the scenery; green grass, green trees, sidewalk, far away jungle gym, not really registering what you're looking at. You roamed a hand over your body in fast motions, just trying to reassure yourself that everything was there, while the other hand kept you upright. You were relieved when you found everything to be there, all ten fingers, you wriggled them in front of your face. All ten toes, wiggling in your shoes- something you were surprised to still find on you, along with your other articles of clothing. Both eyes, you pulled your shades up on your head and gently rubbed at them. Everything was there. Everything was in check.

That's when you realized that it was hot. Familiarly hot. Not as hot as your planet, but not the same type of heat on the meteor or anywhere else in the Game for that matter. It was hot like Texas. Your Texas. The place you were raised. The place you kind of missed even if it was filled with a lot of assholes. That was when it really hit you. You weren't in the game anymore. You just lost the game. You… You and everyone else had died in a furious inferno, some of them even died twice. Lord English had won- found some stupid loophole and figured out how to implode paradox space itself, killing himself out of spite and taking everyone with him. Not many of you ever thought you could win anyway- it's not like you can stop what's already here.

This sent you into a panic. You were dead, but now you aren't? No, it can't be. The world doesn't fucking work like that. So where were you? Hell? You knew Texas was as hot as Satan's asshole but this was taking it a bit too far. And if you were in hell then why wasn't the Sass Master Satan, King of All Things Douche here to greet you? And what about Lalonde? You're pretty sure that she should be down here too, living it up and partying in a hot tub with some sinners or something.

The thought of your ecto-sister makes you pause. Sweet Jegus. Everyone was dead. Everyone was dead. Dead dead, as in permanently gone into the afterlife or wherever the fuck. Gone.

But then you check yourself again. No… You aren't really dead. You don't feel dead. Not like how you felt those few seconds between dying and becoming a God Tier. You felt alive- more or less. You were breathing and you're pretty sure your heart is beating. And maybe, just maybe, that means everyone else is alive too. You can feel that heartbeat pick up at the thought. Could the world have just been put on reset or something? That's a thing that can happen, right? If the Scratch can happen then maybe there's also a Reset Button.

You push off from the wall as excitement starts to build through you. You can go back to your shitty apartment for once. You can have some goddamned apple juice. You can talk to all your friends over pesterchum again, even the trolls. You can… see your Bro again.

Your feet slap against the pavement in your anxiousness, barely bothering to check your surroundings, even as you transition from pavement to grass to pavement again. You're just running in a random direction...

They're not dead, they're not dead, they can't be dead, they are alive. You'll see your Bro and he'll shove gross smuppet ass in your face like he used to. He'll tell you to get to the roof so you can strife like you always did. You'll open the fridge and crappy swords will rain down upon you like a nostalgic, pointy downpour. You'll crack jokes about his hat, his shades, and his unhealthy obsession with orange juice (a parallel to yours with the apple variety). You'll give him the best fucking hug he has ever had in his life. You don't care if you mean it in a totally unironic way, you are going to hug your Bro and he is going to like it. You miss him like hell.

The street lights that had been glowing in the distance hit you and you've reached the road. You're surrounded by fancy houses and impeccable lawns, you had been dumped off at some park and you think you might recognize it. Your lungs drag in the hot, dry, polluted air surrounding Houston and your legs pump out a steady rhythm. Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp. Adding a back beat to the tempo of your rapidly beating heart. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. You have lost your cool, running frantically down a street you barely recognize. But let's face it. You lost your cool long ago, way before this moment, probably the first time you died or the first time you saw your friends die. Maybe you never had it in the first place.

You start slowing down. Your excitement no longer overpowering your system. You look for a street sign. No dice. Only well-kept fancy yards and well-kept fancy houses. You do, however, spy and intersection down the road that may have a sign around. You pick up the pace again, this time with a destination in mind. It doesn't take you long to reach the end. The street is empty and the glow from the stop lights illuminate the area. You find the sign you're looking for. You take off your shades to read it better.

You're on Avalon about to cross onto Kirby. Avalon and Kirby. Avalon and Kirby. Fuck. You know this place. You know this place well. How did you not fucking notice? You'd been to taht park so many times you can't even begin to count. You grew up here, surrounded by snotty rich kids that you always ignored in favor of your online friends. You explored this place, always kicking the other kids off of the jungle gym because you had always been a little shitbag. You lived here, you'd walk these streets in day and night right fucking there.

You looked up and, sure enough, there it was. Towering over you. Your home. The building that your Bro owned. No really, he'd bought out the whole thing because he was an ostentatious douche sometimes (but more because he just didn't like people). All the lights were off in the building. You were almost there. You just had to walk a few more steps. You were going to do it. You were making this happen.

You dart across the empty intersection and jog towards the entrance. You stop abruptly and a sick feeling enters your stomach. This... This is not your home.

Where are the ridiculous signs that your Bro posted all over the gate? Why does the building look so different up close? What were these fancy fucking hedges doing here? Why did everything look so familiar yat warped? Where the fuck was your house.

You take a another look around at the houses lining the street. They look the same. Mostly. There are small differences; a shade off on paint color, a different type of car in the driveway, and firehydrant that was never there before, too many shitty trees, things that normally wouldn't freak you out, but added altogther with this sick sense of unreality and the knowledge that everything very well could be different, you can't help but flip your shit.

You decide to enter the building anyway. Just in case.

You can't.

The building is locked. Shut down. Run down. Condemd. No one has lived here for months. It's pitch black through the windows. You fall to your knees in front of the boarded up glass door. You can't take any more of this shit. It's the final fucking straw. This isn't cool anymore. Stop. Just stop it all. Make it stop. Make. It. Stop.

Your head tilts back in despair. You're jsut so fucking done with everything. You idly notice a bird was frozen midflight from one of those ridiculous hedges. Frozen in time. Fucking great. You wave a limp hand and time starts again. So that's why you could still hear the faint grinding of gears in the back of your mind. You hadn't lost your God Teir powers. Lucky you.

Get yourself together you insufferable little prick. You need to figure shit out. You have no money. Supposedly no family. No home. No anything. What you need is a plan and a place to sleep tonight. You'll figure things out in the morning.

You look up again at what might have been your building in some other dimension.

You climb up to your feet and tear away some of the planks boarding it up. Once done (some of the boards being thrown away woth more force than necesary) you wrench open the doors and walk inside. You search for a place in the dark and find a nice little nook that isn't so covered in grime and settle down, curling your feet up and wrapping your arms around yourself.

You pull your shades over your eyes and sigh. This was going to be a long and depressing ride.

Song inspiration: Flare from the Homestuck albums (but that one that's slowed down 10%)

Anyway fun fact Dave's "address" is 2121 Kirby Dr, Houston, TX

You can literally google maps it. I took time out of my busy busy schedule and actually mapped that motherfucking scene out. Find the park and re-trace Dave's steps.

Legit.

And umm... It's really fucking hard to write in 2nd person

Bye

~Gilly B.