a Demonstuck-type fic by Ticci Tabbi
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hey there guys! i'm EXTREMELY sorry i haven't updated! but… i got this idea for a new fic… and… i had to write it down!
… . i'll update later …? sorry guys… i've been on a fucking sadstuck kick as well as a normal(?) Homestuck kick… i can't quit… DAMN YOU ANDREW HUSSIE!
(i don't own Homestuck. he does.)
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Ch. 1
"—and that concludes this evening's news." Dirk Strider sighed and reached for the remote.
"—strange occurances." He paused and turned up the volume, leaning forward. "My name is Lisa Wickerman and I am here, live, at 702 East Oak Drive in Baltimore, Maryland. Can you tell me what you saw sir? What happened?" the camera shifted and there was a tall, tan man with glasses and buck teeth. He smoothed a hand over his unkempt, almost-black hair, sighing.
"Well, luv," he said in a British accent, "I can only say that the lad that I happened upon… he… he wasn't human anymore. Ah," just before they pulled the microphone he added, "and Dirk, m'boy! I'll be checkin' up on you soon." Lisa Wickerman nodded and pulled away the mic, going on about rationality and 'real' nonsense.
"Tch…" everything that we see in this world, in front of us, is indeed real and indefinitely all there. Though, we humans tend to overlook the most obvious and important details. For instance, the Englishman on the television – ironically enough named Jake English – was no ordinary citizen. He was in fact a bounty hunter. But, yep, you guessed it, no ordinary bounty hunter. And what he meant by "checking up on" Dirk, well, it wasn't great.
Said male literally jumped up from the couch and snatched his cell off his bed. After dialing, he heard the familiar tone of his younger brother rapping some 'ironically sick beats,' then, after about a minute, he picked up.
"Strider house; we rock, you don't." Dirk held in a chuckle and said hi to his long-forgotten-in-Austin-little-brother.
"Bro!" came the somewhat angry, somewhat relieved tone. "'Sup? What do you want from me? Y'know after all that time spent with no one to talk to but stupid birds and my inanimate friends called furniture. What is it?"
"Dave…" this time he couldn't hold it in.
"Wha— Bro you huge—"
"Whoa now." he stopped laughing. "But seriously, li'l bro. I need you to come with me on this one." There was a silence on the other end. Dave knew exactly what his bro meant by 'this one' and he sure as Hell didn't want to go with him.
"No."
"David Elizabeth Strider, you will get your scrawny little ass over here and learn a thing or two about your bro's job, or so help me I'll—"
"You'll what? Sneak into my place again and set Li'l Cal by my bed?"
"Worse. I'll hide every one of my smuppets all around that house and then invite your little Pesterchum buddies over and be oh-so-embarassing. And maybe I'll reconsider the Li'l Cal thing."
"You wouldn't."
"Want me to prove it?"
"… I'll be there in the fucking morning…"