You are Dave Strider, and you wish that John would reply to you on Pesterchum.

You sigh softly and sit on a large rock, closing the chat client. You're in the Land of Wind and Shade, and you see something in the distance, something large and green and rapidly engulfing everything and holy shit it's fire. You stand up and quickly start pestering John again, because jesus fuck now is the time to respond.

You didn't notice the large man-dog-thing with wings land behind you, nor did you notice him unsheathe his sword from his chest and sneak up behind you, lips curled in a silent snarl.

There's a sudden movement in front of you, and you look down to see a sword impaled through your stomach. You are confused, and it takes you a moment to realize what just happened, and at that moment the sword is pulled out of your body. Then it penetrates you again. And again. And again.

Your iPhone falls out of your hand and clatters as it hits the ground, the screen cracking. When the sword is swiftly jerked out of you for what you pray is the last time, you fall onto your knees, your mouth slightly open.

You hear a small growl of triumph and the flapping of wings, then silence. You slump forward, your hands barely catching you as you nearly faceplant into the hard ground. You feel no pain, and it's almost like you're not even in your body, but you know you're horribly injured.

The sound of your blood pattering against the ground beneath you is the only thing keeping you anchored, the only thing keeping your mind from drifting off. You hear the small notification ding from you phone, meaning someone was pestering you. It goes off several more times before you reach forward to retrieve the electronic device.

As you do so, your other arm just gives in and you fall onto your stomach with a small groan of pain. "Fuck.." You say softly, and choke a bit as you taste the metallic saltiness of blood. You open Pesterchum, and see that John finally replied.

He's telling you that he's safe, but there's a fire. He says something dorky, to try to get you not to worry about him and then he types that little buckteeth emoticon. You grin softly, and type 'okay egderp' before you close the program again. You involuntarily drop your iPhone, and your hand limply falls to the ground.

Your aviators are on the ground in front of you; they must've fallen off earlier. You grab them and slip them onto your face with much difficulty, because you're shaking and everything hurts.

Everything hurts so badly and you know you're not going to see John, or Jade, or Rose. You're not going to see if your Bro handed Jack Noir his ass. You're not going to be able to hear him praise you and tell you how proud he is. You're not going to be able to see if your friends actually make it or not.

Everything's fading, and you feel your mind becoming fuzzy. Your eyes close slowly, and it feels like your falling at a million miles per hour. In your head you see John with a wide derpy smile as you runs over to you and tackles you, laughing like the dork he is. It feels so nice, and you wish it would really happen.

It's not like it matters though. You were never going to see him. You were never going to hear Bro's words of approval or see Jade and Rose either. It never mattered. You never mattered. Your death will affect no one, and it will be like you never even existed. After all, you're just a doomed timeline.