loudmouthedlittleship started following you
yes yes GREETINGS and all that.
GREETINGS AND NOW ONTO THE SECOND ITEM ON OUR LISTS: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?
>You don’t look good.
>You talked to Roxy, but the bad shit continued to happen when you got home. You couldn’t hang on. You’re down more than you’ve ever been.
>You tried to bandage yourself, but you ran out. White bandages extend past your shorts on both your legs, and your wrists are wrapped up to yur hands. You ran out around your neck, which is red and covered in cuts and scratches, with a giant, deep gash across your throat.
>You tried.
>You just sort of…run around looking for him.
>When you spot him, you nearly faint.
DIRK!
>You zap over to him and cling to him, then pull back to asses the damage.
ARE YOU…OKAY?
> Andrei: be the wwimp
>You giingerly remove the door from its hinges and place it to the side.
>Step into the room, looking for him.
ANDREI, SWEETIE?
> Nope.
> Not answering.
> Nobody here.
> Just a pile of shuddering scarves.
>You check under the bed, then open the closet.
>Boy you have a lotta scarves…
>Pull the pile of shuddering scarves into a hug.
IF YOU TELL ME YOU HONESTLY THINK YOU CAN ACTUALLY BE A BOTHER TO ME I’LL SLAP YOU WITH CARP.
>Hug him and kiss his forehead.
WHAT HAPPENED, GRUBBY?
I can’t imagine that it’s that fun to deal with an overemotional fishboy on a semi-regular basis, though.
>Sigh and lean in closer.
I was looking at myself in the mirror and all of a sudden, I couldn’t stop looking at my scars. I just started thinking about how fucking useless I was to have all of these fucking god damned things, especially the ones I made myself. I mean, how weak am I to let things bother that much? How the fuck did I let this get quite as far as it has?
They’re shameful.
I’m shameful.
I DON’T LIKE SEEING YOU HURT. WHICH DOES NOT AND SHOULD NOT MEAN THAT I DON’T WANT TO HELP YOU. BECAUSE I DO.
>You hug him tight and lean your chin on the crown of his head and just…no….
THEY AREN’T ANY LESS SHAMEFUL THAN MINE.
THEY ARE A MARK OF WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU, YES, BUT THEY’RE ALSO A MARK OF WHAT YOU’VE OVERCOME.
IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT THAT CONDY DID WHAT SHE DID. IT’S NOT, YOU HAD NO IDEA. AND EVEN IF YOU REFUSED TO COME SEE HER, SHE WOULD HAVE MADE YOU COME BY FORCE, ANYWAY!
YOU ARE NOT SHAMEFUL FOR BEING TORTURED, DIRK, THAT’S NOT A MARK OF WEAKNESS. BECAUSE LOOK AT YOU! AFTER YOU WERE BETTER, THE FIRST THING YOU DID WAS PLOT FOR REVENGE, AND NOT IN A FRENZIED STATE EITHER. DOES THAT CONSTITUTE WEAKNESS? NO IT DOES NOT. AND HAVING EMOTIONS DOES NOT MAKE YOU WEAK! IT DOESN’T, AND IT SHOULDN’T.
AS FOR THE ONES YOU MADE YOURSELF, THAT’S NOT A MARK OF WEAKNESS EITHER. YOU’VE BEEN GOING STEADY WITHOUT SELF HARM FOR A LONG TIME NOW, MAN…AND THE LAST TIME, THE LAST TIME SOMETHING UPSET YOU, YOU DIDN’T.
YOU DIDN’T DO IT.
AND I AM SO, SO PROUD AT YOU.
>your voice gets choked up with emotion a lil’ there…
I TOLD YOU, IT’S OK TO BE SCARED, OR TO FEEL SAD.
IT DOES NOT MAKE YOU WEAK.
IT JUST MAKES YOU HUMAN.
DIRK.
HEY, YOU.
I’M HERE FOR YOU, OKAY?
I know.
>You track down the yk and plop down right next to him.
It’s just been hanging on my mind as of late. It’s kinda been taking a toll on me, you know? I think if I just keep it to myself, it’ll just keep getting worse, you know?
>Sigh.
I hope I’m not interrupting anything or being a bother.
IF YOU TELL ME YOU HONESTLY THINK YOU CAN ACTUALLY BE A BOTHER TO ME I’LL SLAP YOU WITH CARP.
>Hug him and kiss his forehead.
WHAT HAPPENED, GRUBBY?
>You kind of hope he doesn’t notice that you’re just full-on staring at him now.>You notice eventually.
IS THERE SOMETHING ON MY FACE?
>You don’t even bother answering.
>You smooch that motherfucker.
>you smooch him riiight back.
I LOVE YOU.
>Wide grin!
>You go ‘OOOH’ and ‘AHH!’ at all the right moments YOU ARE SO INTO THIS YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW.>LIKE, REALLY.
>You kind of hope he doesn’t notice that you’re just full-on staring at him now.
>You notice eventually.
IS THERE SOMETHING ON MY FACE?
I FEEL LIKE I SHOULD BE SCARED.
Oh, come on. No reason to be scared.
In fact, just the opposite should be true. I think you’ll like it.
FUCK, FINE.
WHAT GAME IS IT?
>You grin, and set your laptop with a shiny new screen in front of him.
You’ll sea. It’s naut difficult at all, just a simple game of chance. I think you’ll like it.
>You grin, and click a folder on the desktop.
I’ll leave you to it. It’s pretty shellf-explanatory.
>You walk off, grinning to yourself. Now, all you have to do is wait.
OH MY GOD.
>You click the folder and, well, okay, you think you got this. Find the right file YEAH
>Shit, let’s be Santa.
>You laugh really hard.
>Inside the box is The Shark. You submitted it to him once, back when it came out, and were lucky enough to get your claws on one. You’ve had this planned for a long time.
Just in case you get lonely. Heh heh.
>You aRE SO DONE!!!
>sO DONE
>SO DOOOOONEEEEEE HRHlgljrkgklrgkrgl you prefer the book.
WHY THIS?!?
I PREFER THE BOOK.
