right 'round like a record baby

[timetechs]

[ Fuckin' hallelujah, it's all over. Two big bads down, Terezi and Dirk's body and Dirk's head collected one-two-three because that's just what you do when you're the time guy, always there in the nick of, ha ha. Yeah, he's going for the bad puns because it is over with a capital O, the big fish herself skewered like a nice filet, time to wine and dine and drink so much that it's the hangover they've gotta worry about instead of all the shit they had to go through to get here.

Here, in the middle of nowhere space on the end game platform, humans, trolls, the Mayor, man, what a guy, cheering and hugging and oh god, there's definitely some tears over there, Dave is NOT heading that direction.

Speaking of heads.

There's Dirk's head all neatly lined up with Dirk's body just waiting for Jane to do her thing. Any second now. Yep, any second, tick-tock, Jane'll do her thing and it'll stop being Dirk's head and Dirk's body and just be Dirk again. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Tick-fucking-tock. He can hear the seconds ticking by, thirty five, thirty six, thirty seven and fuck, nothing's happening. Absolutely nothing, Jane's glowy hands are hovering over Dirk's head and Dirk's body, definitely still two distinct pieces, and—

Nothing. Dirk's head is still there and it's not working.

He's got Dirk's blood all over his hands, down the front of his sweet godly pj's, still warm and wet and dripping into a little red puddle at his feet, little spurts pooling around the two segments of Dirk's neck, and it's not working.

Dave stares at where Jane is totally not bringing Dirk — the guy he'd unloaded on, the guy who'd let him, the guy who'd actually given a fuck — back to life and feels the cold void of paradox space yawning at his back, creeping across the dark platform, spreading into his gut like he's far out at sea, weighted down by a useless shitty suit and useless shiny shoes, the orchestra's going down with the ship and he's out there about to go under.

He felt like this, almost, when Bro died. When he stared at Bro's corpse, the sheer impossibility that someone had got one over on Bro Strider, and how the fuck was he supposed to win the shitty game if even Bro got taken out.

Almost, but this is somehow worse, bile rising in his gorge, pulling him down beneath the waves. This isn't how it was supposed to end. It's not, he did everything right, figured his shit out and fought and won, how the fuck can this be how it ends.

He is not, as some might say, flying off the handle. There will be no acrobatic pirouettes here because this is not going to happen. He's the knight of fucking time and he is going to fix it.

Time doesn't slow or rush by when he travels. He doesn't need the frankly sweet as fuck timetables anymore, definitely a good thing because if he did someone might notice and try and stop him. Slipping through time is a step into the stillness between one breath and the next, knowing when to go without any idea how he knows, just wanting it.

Needing it.

Tick-tock and he's on the roof beside Dirk again, acrid air and green light filtered through the toxic haze reflecting off shades, close enough to hear over a rumble of thunder the shrieking grate of metal on metal, Dirk's sword just barely keeping the bar from his face. Other Dave is staring at them both now, had just firmed his mouth, realized what the (terrible, fucking awful) plan is. Was thinking of the chrono logistics he'll need to cut off three heads and grab the one that matters. Screw whatever this is gonna do to alpha-Dave, sorry buddy, he's gotta be alpha-Dave now. Dave flicks a glance at himself, lifts one shoulder in a shrug — hey, it's him, he'll understand — and turns his attention back to Dirk. ]

Come with me if you want to live. [ He deadpans, ignoring the pounding of his heart, the tick-tick-tick of time running out. There is, of course, time for his quippy not quite one-liner, because that's just how these kinds of stories go. ] I know it's a fuckin' sweet reference and usually I'd stick around for the equally sicknasty banter, but that's where we're at, dude. So.

[ There's a bare split second for Dirk to start on said sicknasty response before Dave grabs him by the wrist, reaches out for the ever-present flow and the silence between, and yanks Dirk away from that perfect line up for head removed from neck times three, right through. Back, earlier, to when they'll have enough time to change the shit that's not gonna go down.

Hope the ride isn't one of those crappy fair rides that gets a guy ready to ralph if you're not a time guy, but who cares, that's a billion-squared light years from the grand scheme of things:

It's not over at all. ]