Huh. Sounds fun.
Jesus, I never realized that Aranea could have such a bitchy descendant.
- A: Who was the last person to piss you off? What did they do?
- B: Do you miss your ex? What would you do to get them back?
- C: If you had to choose between your best friend or your significant other dying, who would you choose?
- D: Everyone has a few demons, what's your worst one?
- E: Have you ever cheated on somebody?
- F: Are you a virgin?
- G: Do you believe in ghosts?
- H: If you knew your girlfriend/boyfriend would be truly happier without you, would you leave?
- I: If you liked someone with a terminal illness, would you still date them knowing they might not live much longer?
- J: If you sold your soul, what would it be for?
- K: Would you ever kill someone? What would be a good reason?
- L: Have you ever told a big lie, one that you felt bad for? Did you ever come clean?
- M: Is there anything that you'd never do for any amount of money?
- N: Would you consider yourself vain or narcissistic?
- O: Are you open minded, or do you judge people and things before you give them a chance?
- P: Politics, what are your thoughts on them?
- Q: Do you prefer peace and quiet, or loud chaos?
- R: Religion, what is yours? Do you believe in a god?
- S: What is your sexual preference (straight, gay, bi, pan, ace)?
- T: What is your favorite sexual position?
- U: Has anyone you knew ever died? If so, who?
- V: Do you ever want children?
- W: If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
- X: Do you do drugs? Drink? Smoke?
- Y: Is there anything you wouldn't do for love?
- Z: Would you ever have sex for money?
> You know he’s trying to soothe you, but it just wasn’t working. Not how he wanted it to. You couldn’t stop crying — there was no way that you were going to anytime soon. Not in such a situation where you’ve finally met someone that was practically a legend for you. When you’re pulled into his arms, you cling to him tightly, crying into his shoulder as you apologize over and over, nuzzling your head against him. You wanted this to last as long as possible, and you refused to wake up from this dream. It was too real. Too much like what you had wanted for years. The soft touches to your hair earn a soft whimper as you lean into his touch, closing your eyes and keeping yourself from apologizing further, because he doesn’t deserve that.
I love you. I love you so much.
> You nuzzle against his shoulder, letting the tears freely drop as you wrap your arms around him, holding onto him tightly and rocking with him. Your eyes sting from crying, and you have a slight headache from all the strain. You try to relax yourself, allowing your muscles to relax as you practically melt against him. You cling to the soft fabric of his shirt, trying to let his words calm you down as you shakily inhale against him, pressing your forehead to his neck and breathing erratically. He’s here now. He’s here and for you.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
I love you, Dave.
Fuck, I only know you from those videos, but I love you so much.
Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be crying. Not like this.
This isn’t how it should have gone. I shouldn’t have come off so fucking weak.
> You look up to him, eyes red and watery as you shake your head, trying to catch your breath before you bury your head back against him. You squeeze him tightly, peppering kisses to his shoulder and chin, constantly thanking him.
> When he says your name, you freeze, the familiar sound from those years of videos he left for you flooding back to your memory. You just kind of gape at him, your full body tense and unmoving. It’s not possible, it’s not fucking possible. But they way he says your name screams familiar, and it almost hurts to hear it. You’ve dreamt of this. Hearing him say your name in person. You wanted it more than anything in the world, and here he was. You watch as he flips the paper over, soon scribbling out another comic — those all too familiar characters in a situation that you’ve never seen before. Your eyes widen at the picture before you hear him again, his voice soft and humble — just like in the videos. You sit quietly as he sings, your face contorting as you feel a sting in your eyes. Your lips part slightly as you bring a hand up to slowly take off your shades — you wanted him to see you for what you were. He memorized it. His voice was soft and so very safe to you.
You feel a drop of water running down your cheek, but make no move to wipe it away. You just wanted to listen to him. That was all you wanted. You laugh lightly and playfully, smiling like you did when you first saw his videos. And, softly and with complete memorization, you mimic his voice.
“And I love you. So much.”
> With that, you break down, burying your head in your hands, your body convulsing with sobs. You didn’t want to come off as so pathetic to him, but there was nothing else you could do. You’ve wanted this since you first found those boxes — since you first heard his voice. You love him. You love him more than anything in the world. This was all you wanted — to hear him speaking to you in person. So you could finally be with him somehow.
Fuck, I’m sorry.
> What were you apologizing for? You weren’t too sure. You acted like an asshole to him, this person that you’ve wanted to meet your whole life.
Which is exactly why I didn’t pull a shit-for-brains move and say “Hey, you look oddly familiar.”
Crisis averted. For the most part.
Anyways, ‘sup with you?
I figured as much. But I’m guessing there is a little fault to be had in you thinking of saying that in the first place.
Not much. Just hanging and having a good time, as per usual.
tactfultechnician started following you
Thanks for the follow, man.
… I was going to say you look oddly familiar but then I realized that’s a rather stupid thing to say. So I won’t.
No worries. I’m just here for the ride.
I figured that it would be pretty damn obvious that I look familiar, seeing as though you practically see me every day in front of your mirror.
>You almost spit out your sandwich when he speaks. You’re think close to covering his face in lettuce and salami, but you hold back - you instead settle for stiffening up so much that your sandwich falls out of your hands in pieces, and by the time its hit the plate it looks more like a salad with some meat and bread tossed in. You aren’t the best at expression emotions, but your parted lips do enough, because there are words you have to say and you can’t even form a noise.
>You probably look like an idiot, just sitting there, but you have to do something. Because that look on his face speaks so many volumes, and you shuffle over next to him while fumbling through your pockets for. . God knows what, but it’s obvious you’re rushed. You finally come up with it, a piece of paper. You look at him to make sure he’s watchin, then go about scribbling. A comic. It’s unique, you’ve never drawn it before. Drawing something you’ve already drawn would just make him think you’ve seen your own movies. But you’re swift to pump something out, a stupid little meme reference to recent internet culture swipes. When you’re done making Jeff a complete idiot of himself (par to usual), you point.
you mean this right
>You’re wondering if he’s making the same connection you are. Your name is Dave Strider, you’re a director, you draw these things off hand at the flick of a wrist. ‘Come on, Dirk.’
> You raise an eyebrow as you watch him drop his sandwich, trying to regain your deadpan as you try to ignore the thoughts about your brother. You give your head a light shake before you realize that he has scooted closer, rustling around and tugging out a wrinkled piece of paper. He scribbles down a comic — a familiar character but in a situation you’ve never seen before. You’re almost shocked to see how quickly he belts it out. It starts an unsettling feeling inside of you, one that you had a hard time ignoring.
Yeah, I do, actually.
How’d you do that?
> You stare at him, frowning. It couldn’t be possible. It just wasn’t likely. He must just be an alternate. But why do you feel a significant stir inside of you when you look at him? There was some connection that you weren’t able to add up. Or maybe, you just didn’t want to. You had been waiting for so long, and now here he was. No, no, it couldn’t be. Wasn’t likely. You take a deep breath before shaking your head and staring at him.
It’s not possible.
holy shit this looks delicious
> You don’t bother to answer him. You’re too invested in the monstrosity on your plate, to which you dig in with or without his ‘shove it down your pipe’ comment. You kind of register what he’s saying, but you’re way into this sandwich. But you do listen. You listen pretty well. You quirk a brow; an alternate of his brother? This was getting strange. You kind of wrinkle your nose as you realize you’ve already gone halfway through the sub, and set it down. After a while of silence, you speak.
this might be kinda weird of me to say
but im kind of curious i guess
what kind of movies did he direct
> You aren’t making eye contact. You might look like you are behind your shades, but you aren’t. A director brother? His name was Dirk, and that was your supposed little brother’s name? A supposed little brother who also constantly wore shades, and his hair had the same complexion of flaxen as yours, and this shit was really weird. Granted, you didn’t give a fuck about timelines, either, nor did you even know they were seriously a thing, but really?
> You sigh, buzzing your lips together like a little kid would. This was boring as fuck, sitting here and watching him eat. And yet, your instincts didn’t convey you to leave. You weren’t sure if it was because of him or your need to take care of people. You shift around for a moment to adjust your shades, looking at him skeptically as he devours his sandwich. As he speaks, you find yourself a little surprised by the question. He didn’t actually come off as stuffy or rude. He actually seemed genuinely interested. You sigh, tapping a finger on the table in front of you.
He directed some pretty weird stuff.
But most of it was propaganda against the Batterwitch.
Ever hear of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff?
That was his thing. He was really popular from it.
> You smile lightly, recalling your brother from the videos left for you throughout your past birthdays. One for each year. It was how you remembered him — the old, dusty boxes filled with gifts from him, as well as videos of him speaking to you. They were all little treasures to you, and you always dreamed of meeting the man in the videos. But you had come to the conclusion that the game hadn’t spit him back out like you had wanted. You thought he was dead, and it broke your heart to shreds. Your smile evaporates with the thought, replaced with a grief-stricken expression. Your alternates were lucky to have found their brothers.
turntech- replied to your post: turntech- replied to your post: turntech- replied…
its in your better interests
I don’t bow for clowns, sorry.
turntech- replied to your post: turntech- replied to your post: Why did I waste my…
the irony in that statement transcends the atmos
Should I bow?
might want to be careful about who youre saying that to
someone might take it seriously and push you way past your limit for the sole purpose of having you spit in their sandwich
hollywood does that to handsome men
>You smirk, watching his every move. It’s obvious he isn’t happy about this, but it’s equally obvious to you that he’s got a housewife quirk. So quick to take that order and equally as quick to bite your head off for it. He’s peculiar. And, he doesn’t have even the slightest care in the world towards your occupation. Even better. You wonder how far you can shove him.
well thats weird
must be a coincidence
but cool nevertheless
i dont know dirk
im finagling with you pretty hardcore at the moment
gonna sue me
but that being said you probably already know im dave strider right
since youve met so many of me or whatever hahahaha
> You grit your teeth as you throw a slice of bread onto a plate, quickly throwing some salami onto the bread, along with some cheese and lettuce. Stacking a few more ingredients onto the slice, you finally lay its twin on top and turn your heel again, stepping forward and begrudgingly setting the plate before him. At his comment, you blink, swallowing before cocking your head to the side and raising an eyebrow.
Coincidence? What’s that supposed to mean?
> You sigh, reluctantly pulling a chair from the kitchen table and sliding into it, laying your arms up onto the table before propping your head up on your palms. This guy was the sleazy Hollywood type, and normally you wouldn’t want anything to do with him. But right now, he was a little interesting.
Yeah I can tell. It’s obvious with the bullshit you’re spewing from your mouth.
Now do me a favor and shove the sandwich down your fucking pie hole. I’d prefer to give my ears a break for a second.
But sure, I’ve met Daves.
Just not the Hollywood posers. You must be an alternate of my brother.