Inkstuck

Your name is Dave Strider and you are freaking the fuck out right now.

Not that you are willing to admit it.

But seriously? Considering the situation you’re in, you don’t blame yourself.

First, you were lined up for the chopping block. You were about to die. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t terrified.

But Bro always said to never show anyone your true emotions, so you pretended you were cool with your own death. Well, you mean, you’d love to die—what true, self-deprecating teenager wouldn’t—but not like that. Not at the hands of your worst enemy.

But then, suddenly, you weren’t.

You were in some random kids house, with said random kid looking as if he’d just used a demon summoning ritual that actually worked. Wide blue eyes framed by thick, rectangular glasses and a collection of bruises. Mouth open in shock, displaying rather large front teeth. Dark hair literally sticking in every possible direction. Small and chubby, he looked at you as if you were the entire world.

Later, you admit to yourself that he's kinda-really-fucking-cute.

Unfortunately for you, Jack came with you to this weird place too.

He was never stable, especially under King Bartholomew. Lashing out like that was normal for him.

What wasn’t normal for him was to be hit on the head by a large and heavy book. It wasn’t normal for his victims to fight back.

He escaped, teleported away like the coward he is. But you’ll deal with him later.

Right now, you need to make sure John is ok.

What? You might be an asshole, but this kid saved your life. Twice.

You owe him that much.

You’ve bundled him up in the softest, comfiest blankets you could find and set him on the couch. He looks so cosy and comfortable.

You’ve set his beloved book on the table. It took quite a bit of tugging to get out of his hands. You feel a bit awkward handling it, so you’re refusing to look at it while you eat your sandwich.

You got the ingredients from John’s fridge.

Currently, you’re sitting opposite him eating a sandwich. It's a really nice sandwich, with lettuce and tomato and chicken and beef and cheese.

You have a lot of questions to ask him—but when he wakes up of course.

Like; how do you know who I am? What the fuck did you do? How did you do it? Why? Who the fuck hurt you? Are you are warlock? You don’t look like one. Well, one I’ve met anyway.

You are very impatient. You watch him sleep for about ten minutes before giving up and starting to throw bits of sandwich at him.

It doesn’t work, he’s too far gone in the land of dreams to wake up.

Instead, you decide to fuck around and explore the house.

You raid the pantry in hopes of finding more food. You find more pillows and blankets and decide to make a blanket fort around John. You dig through cupboards and drawers in hopes of finding any information on John.

You find none, until you reach a tiny room at the far end of the hallway.

It can be hardly called a room it’s so small. The only piece of furniture in the room is a dirty, ripped mattress. It covers nearly the entire floor. It’s dark, the only source of light being from the open doorway. You feel as though you are intruding on something private, so you turn to leave.

“Guess it wasn’t a dream then…” John says from the doorway.

He’s clutching that book tightly to his chest, as if he is a drowning man and that book is his only hope of survival. His dark hair is mussed from sleep but his eyes are bright and alert.

“What, you don’t think you could dream up someone as handsome as me? Don’t worry, I don’t blame you. I’m too hot to be real. Fortunately for you, I am real.”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re so hot you just phased into reality—just like that.”

“Yep. I’m magic like that.”

“Right, well sorry if I don’t believe you. Fictional characters don’t just appear out of thin air. That isn’t how things work.” He frowns at you.

“What do you mean fictional character? I’m fucking real aren’t I? I’m right here?”

He ignores you, and continues to talk.

“This is all just some horrible prank Mother is playing on me isn’t it? You’re just an actor, and you’re fucking with me.”

“Excuse me? Me fucking with you? Why the fuck would I do that? You’re the one who teleported me and Jack here!!” You shriek back at him. This time, he seems to take notice of you.

“Me!? Teleporting you? But you’re the one with magic!”

“Yes you fucking teleported me! I highly doubt that Jack would teleport me and seeing as teleportation is one of the Magics I can’t perform that only leaves you. Plus that book you’re holding looks like a fucking spell book! Admit it! You’re some kind of Warlock!”

He freezes up, staring at you with wide blue eyes.

“Y-You think I’m a Warlock?”

“Aren’t you?”

“N-no! I’m nothing special. I’m definitely not a Warlock! This is just my mother playing a massive, cruel prank on me!”

“Nothing special!? You just saved my life twice kid, start talking.”

“I didn’t—I’m telling the truth! I didn’t do anything! One minute, my mother and that strange lady were sitting on the couch watching me read. The next, the two of you were on the couch wrestling!”

“Well, you certainly did something! One minute I was going to be executed, the next I was sitting on your couch—which is rather comfortable by the way. Really, what material is it?”

“You just got teleported to another universe, nearly killed twice and you’re asking about couch fabric!?”

“That couch was very comfortable! I, unlike you, have got my priorities in order. Honestly, if you can’t tell me the fabric of that couch, then I’ll—wait a minute! Did you say teleported to another universe!?” You jump up a little at that, getting kind of in his face. He flinches away and shifts his eyes around uncomfortably.

You step back, arranging yourself awkwardly. John visibly relaxes as you do and you try not to get insulted.

“Um yes. You did. I don’t know how, or why, but you aren’t from this universe.”

“What do you mean? I live in this universe, don’t I?”

He shakes his head. “No.” He murmurs, and holds out his book to you. “You live in this one.”

You grab it from his hands, staring down at the worn cover in confusion.

“What the fuck? I don’t live in a book! How would I even fit?”

He moves forward and opens the book. He begins pointing to certain parts of the text and you begin reading.

What you find horrifies you. This is your entire life story! From your days in the Derse Palace, to your epic quest, to your downfall. You skim through it all while John watches you with a sad expression on his face.

Once you are done, he breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry.” He tells you.

“It’s fine.” You reply.

It’s not.

Your name is John Egbert and looking up a story while its protagonist sits right next to you is the most awkward moment your life.

After the initial shock of his entire universe being a book in yours, Dave wanted to know everything there is to know about the story.

So, you snuck in your mothers room to get onto the internet.

You doubt she’s coming back, but you’re still pretty nervous about being in her room. Dave, sensing your discomfort, strapped Caledfwlch firmly to his back to make you feel better. He claimed he’d protect you from her, which you found quite sweet.

“Man, these fangirls really like drawing me naked huh?”

“Yes well fangirls do that.”

“I thought you said the author burned almost all the copies for reasons unspecified?”

“Almost. Some escaped her flame-filled wrath.”

“Ah. I’m guessing the less copies, the more interest and soon enough everyone was reading it?”

“Yep. Got it in one. After she burnt them, everyone began taking interest. Soon, the fan populace grew into a full out kingdom! They tried to make a movie, but Rose wouldn’t give permission, so they couldn’t make it.”

“Hold the fuck up.” He says and points a disgusted finger at the screen.

“Ah.”

“Is that me and Jack—“

“Hmmm”

“—Kissing???!!!???”

“Yep. You’re totally having sex. Don’t question it. 100% canon. Number one OTP.”

He looks at you with utter disgust written on his features. You shoot him a cocky grin and click on the tags below it.

“Let’s see the rest of this ship.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Too late!” You hum as the tag successfully loads.

He screams in horror as more, quite sexual images pop up. You start to laugh, but then the look on his face stops you.

Before you can say react, he leaps on you. You know it’s meant as a friendly wrestle kind of thing. You can tell by the way he avoids your more obvious bruises and instead focuses on tickling you.

But you can’t help but think of your mother—with her cruel words and pummelling fists.

He immediately stops and backs off you, mumbling out apologies as he does.

“It’s ok. It was my fault anyway.”

“No it wasn’t. Normally I’m really chill about that sort of thing. But I guess seeing me doing the do with that dirty brother killer really pissed me off.”

“I can see how you’d think that. It must be horrible. I’m sorry.”

“Nah it’s cool. But I guess you can say I saw red.” He flips down his shades, giving you a glimpse of bright red eyes.

You giggle at that, a loud, high-pitched thing that makes you feel very sub-conscious but you can’t stop.

Once you do, Dave hands you the copy of Inkstuck.

“How about we stop looking up porn of me and start looking up how you read me out? I mean surely there’d be something some crackpot has made on it?”

“What, like a conspiracy website? Can we even trust those?”

“Sure we can!” He says, typing something into the computer. “Reading fictional characters out of books.”

“Oh come on, like that’s going to wor—“

“—Wikipedia article yo!”

You inch closer to him so you can look at the screen. The article is rather short, but Dave reads out the synopsis anyway.

“Readers are those with the unique and rare ability to read objects and people out of written text. It is believed this ability is caused by a rare genetic mutation, but is not confirmed.

While a Reader can read something out of a book, the laws of matter state something must be replaced when they do.'Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only converted into another form.'

Many ancient Sinnohian tablets and temples depict Readers as Godlike and extremely powerful. They were likened to the Gods themselves.

Unfortunately, virtually nothing is known about these rare people—most Readers die in horrific accidents or never reveal their abilities. So they have faded into myth and fantasy.”

“Hey John, turns out you’re a God.”

“Um yeah, in Ancient Sinnoh. Which doesn’t exist anymore Dave.”

“Well excuuuuuuuuse me princess. Or should I say you racist cunt. Gods John, you can’t just shit on someone’s religion like that.”

“Since when did I shit on someones religion?”

“Since always.”

“Right, what about before I was born?”

“Your foetus-y ghost floated around Ancient Sinnoh, telling them how stupid their religion is.”

“What, so baby ghost me went around an ancient civilisation to tell its citizens they were worshipping false gods?”

“Yes. Baby ghost you did do that.”

“Right. Glad we cleared that up.” You say, getting up off the bed.

“Well, we’ve figured out what I did. And I think you’ve accepted your entire world is a lie? Maybe? Maybe not? I don’t think my mother or the blonde lady is coming back. A serial killer is loose in America. What do we do now?”

Dave shrugs, not looking up from the laptop.

“Dave! This is serious! What do we do!? We’re like, 14, 15. Who’s going to believe us? I’m known for pranking people. No one I know is going to believe me!”

“Everyone you know huh? What about her?” He turns around the laptop to show you the smirking face of Rose Lalonde.

Your name is Dave Strider and you have a lot of driving to do.

Well, John has a lot of driving to do.

After you managed to convince him to steal from his mum, travel across the country with no previous experience with driving to meet his favourite author and attempt to convince her two of her characters are real. (Which wasn’t at all as hard as you imagined.) John charted a map across the States to follow. You paid no attention to the map because you were too engrossed in the TV in front of you.He also made highly detailed plans to visit various roadside attractions and detour through famous landmarks along the way. Despite what you say, you’re pretty excited for this.

John insisted you at least help pack the car. Which you totally are helping with.

You’re cheering him on as you sip a popper of apple juice and sit on your ass. He shoots you multitudes of glares as you do. But sometimes, when he thinks you’re not looking, he’ll shoot you an awed look, as if he can’t believe you’re there.

You don’t blame him, you can’t believe you’re here either.

Honestly? It feels as if you’re dead. You know it sounds pretty dark, but you do.

Several warlocks you’ve met have theorised that there is ‘life after death’ so to speak. Where your brain is in such denial over its demise that it straight out creates a whole new universe in the last few precious seconds of consciousness.

You thought it was honestly bullshit. But now, as you watch John load up the car, you think you might be dead. You mean, surely someone like that can’t be real. Maybe your attention starved brain dreamt of someone who cares about you so that you won’t feel so alone during your last moments. Maybe it decided to just fuck with you. Maybe—

“Dave? You going to keep slurping on that empty popper of AJ or are you going to listen to me?” John’s voice snaps you out of trance-like state.

You look down at the empty and seriously deformed juice popper in your hands. Turns out you’d sucked it dry while sitting and reminiscing about the events of the past six or seven hours.

“Probably keep slurping.”

“Well you can slurp in the car. I’ve finished packing.” He gestures behind him to the fully packed car.

It’s filled to the brim with blankets and food and shittons of jewellery. You helped John raid his mothers safe and jewellery to get enough money for the trip. John seemed incredibly happy to discard her things and even started a game of ‘who can throw her shit out the window further’.

“Sure I’m ready to ride or die.” You get up, walking over to the passenger’s side of the car. “I call shotgun.”

“Dave!” John calls, following you a little before getting in the drivers side. “You’re the only passenger. Shotgun already applies to you.”

“Whatever.” You say as you press random buttons in hopes they do something. “Anyway, do we have to go just yet? I mean, do you want to say goodbye to anything?”

He looks over at you, hands gripping the steering wheel.

“Oh fuck no!”

You shoot him a cocky smile. “Then floor it. Let’s get out of here.”

He floors it.