Whoa is this a homestuck fanfiction? Wowie gurl stepping away from anime? Good job u lil ass.

Anyway this is my first homestuck fanfiction and I would really love reviews and feedback and shit so pleeeeeaaasseeee review

xoxo

Your name is JOHN EGBERT an you don't know if your dead or alive anymore. It has been a year, four months, seven days, and thirteen hours since it started. By it, you mean the zombie apocalypse.

Yeah. Zombies.

You truly don't know how you have survived this long, but hell, you're not complaining. You really should be though. Who in Gods name would want to live in this hell? You, of course.

It has taken you a year to get there, but you're finally in Texas. Your best bro lives th- used to live there.

There is no way that shades wearing idiot could survive long with those shitty swords, you think.

But you don't care.

You think that it would be nice to pay your respects to your best bro.

You carefully, and quietly, walk the streets of the deserted city that you are currently in. Austin, you guess.

Austin is completely in ruins. It is impossible for someone to stay in this shit hole. You slowly walk up to an apartment building. It's rather high. Taller than all of the homes in your once neighborhood.

Once inside, you put up your guard. Taking your TRUSTY HAMMER from the belt loop of your worn khaki shorts, you make you make your way into the stair well, walking up slowly.

This is... odd, you think. This was once a very large city. Why isn't there a large population? Population of the dead... of course.

You have only seen one or two of those things since you have arrived in this town. But you stayed away. You learned to hide, and not fight.

Some may call you a wuss, but you're really just smart.

You laugh at my stupid remark. Who would be alive to call you that mean name?

In your mind, you're the last man alive.

You cough very quietly. Your health hasn't been very good for a few weeks. You think that you're probably going to die soon. You glare at me because you know that I think that too.

No one could survive a small cold in this time without the proper medical care that you aren't so desperate to find.

You have no idea why, but you're okay with death. You welcome it, even. You guess that being around MOVING DEAD BODIES for a whole year, is enough for anyone to want to die.

You soon hear shuffling and are taken away from your thoughts. Your grip on the handle of your hammer tightens in slight fright. Your out in the open with no where to hide.

It sounds cliche but its true.

You sigh, it coming out as more of a grunt of frustration.

Time to fight.

Maybe this time you'll die and won't have to live in this shit world.

The world where the dead has risen.

You stand in front of the Strider residence, your bucked teeth chewing slightly at your lower lip. Should you go in? You ask yourself, uncertain of what you might see. Taking a deep breath, you reach for the handle, grasping it gently as you turn it, opening the door to your best bros apartment.

Your blue orbs widen behind your thick rimmed glasses, gasping at the sight of the home. It shouldn't even be considered a home now. Theres...There is BLOOD everywhere.

And.. is that a dead body?

Oh my god it is a dead body.

You see triangle shades laying on the floor next do it and your knees fall weak and you collapse where you stand, leaning against the door for support. It's Dave's Bro. Dead on the kitchen floor. Somehow the body was preserved.

You remember Dave talking about his Bro all the GODDAMNED time. Like, seriously. You also remember him describing his Bro to always be wearing these "dorky triangle anime shades" all the time.

You rub your temples. Your head is starting to hurt again. Maybe coming down here wasn't such a good idea.

You suddenly hear shuffling and stand almost too quickly, grip tightening on your hammer.

What the hell is that? You ask yourself, seeing a figure in the shadows.

You groan to yourself. Goddamn it all. It's one of those THINGS. But how in gods name did it make it all the way up here? You dismiss that thought and move close to the door, hoping that the undead being doesn't see you.

You don't think that you have enough energy to kill something now. This sickness is really taking a toll on you. You're most positive that you have a high fever.

The moving figure comes out of the shadows and your heart skips about four or five beats. Your breath is stuck in your throat so you have no way to gasp in surprise, or even fear. Cause you KNOW thats what you're feeling right now.

Your TRUSTY HAMMER slips out of your hand and falls to the bloody carpet with a quiet thump.

Your lip quavers slightly as you see the bloody, and ragged looking figure and you utter out one single word that you haven't said aloud in so long.

"D-Dave?"

There you go again. You feel yourself sinking to the floor and your eyes are getting heavy. You KNEW that this would happen. You KNEW that you had a fever. And you KNEW that you wouldn't survive.

Your name is DAVE STRIDER and you are very much alive.

You left the clean-ness and safety of your locked up room when you heard shuffling in your home. At first you thought it was another one of those fucking zombies but no.

"Holy shit..." Was all you could muster up.

It was your fucking best friend.

That you thought died along with every other fucktruck on the earth.

But NO. He was there. And he just fainted, just like the little pussy he was.

Wait a minute... you think, examining his unnaturally pale face from a distance. You remember when you used to skype, that he was naturally tan. Why is he so...ghostly? Your ruby red eyes travel closer to his face and you see why.

His cheeks are flushed and he had been obviously sweating.

That damned bastard was running a fever.

Damn it all.