DIRK
@conceitedEngineer
And so you repeat the same steps, reach the same conclusion, and still view yourself as the most sane of them all.
Do I sound desperate if I say my dms are open?
Live your truth, bro.
i just, really like the smell of leather...
It's a favorite of mine, too.
oh yeah? :o
Yeah. My gloves are half self indulgence half style. I have a leather jacket, too, but fuck knows it's too hot for it half the time, so.
omg really? i do also have a leather jacket but i only break it out in winter, and it's rarely actually that cold here, so i'm just so sad.
Yeah, real shit. It gets plenty cold here but you're not catching me out in the snow.
If you've ever considered bilateral salpingectomy consider this my official endorsement.
oh hell yeah dude good for you, hope recovery goes well
Thanks, man. Been a while though. All recovered.
Guy tits on my mind.
Real shit.
They should be.
You get it.
Can 1 be normal for f1ve fuck1ng seconds? Please?
Not on my watch.
Weak response. I’m judging all of you.
what did i miss huh
You responded appropriately. All good.
lets be used like a pillow by mama
Cozy cuddles with mama.
"Big stretch" except it's me making a death rattle as my entire spine crackles.
Is it really stretching if your entire spine doesn't crackle and pop.
It's not really stretching until I move just right and my sternum joins in.
if the big stretch doesn’t threaten to remove your soul you aren’t doing it right. or you don’t shrimp over your screen all day it’s anyones guess really.
New claw time.
Yeah, exactly. My bones need to realign from the bottom up sometimes.
(( Just now realizing I forgot to swap Dirk's reference and icon over from imgur, oops. Anyway, redid his pinned and got that all fixed up - hopefully everyone can see the images now lmao
((Thank you! Can confirm that UK people can see it now :) ))
(( Thank god!! 😭 I swapped over my other profiles months ago I have no idea how he slipped through the cracks
[ A bad dream. ] (Not actually posted, just some exposition.) You’ve watched him die before. In the heat of the battle, with the knowledge the game or Jane would bring him back, it didn’t make your heart seize. You always had failsafes. The risks were always calculated ten times over by you, miniscule. “Dirk?” Jake’s hand curled around your shoulder, squeezing tightly in a way that should be reassuring but barely reached you. “You know as good as any I haven’t the slightest clue how to gab at you in a way that’ll slap a plaster on this giant mess of broken pieces, but…” He trailed off. You weren’t looking at him, your eyes hadn’t left a spiderweb of broken up coding, but you could imagine the way Jake looked. Nervous and flustered, scratching the back of his head like a character from some cheesy fictional media. Concerned. Sad. Disappointed. “I’ll figure it out,” you said. Your voice sounded hollow to your own ears. Any attempt at reassurance fell flat. “… What? Figure what out? Christ on a cheese cracker, Dirk, it’s a bit late to ‘figure it out’. You should be-” he hesitated to say it and his voice dropped to a whisper, “-grieving, for Pete’s sake. This isn’t a problem to be solved. Now, come on. We’ll gussy you up in proper mourning clothes and… well, let’s start there. Everyone’s waiting.” Your focus finally shifted from the colorful strings of code to the reflection of your then boyfriend between them. He had a suit on, all black. Quiet and clean but the stubble clinging to his jaw was a few days old now. “I can smell the alcohol on your breath from here.” “Dirk,” he both pleaded and snapped. “Don’t do this right now. You, of all people, can’t just flake out on his funeral. You're his brother!” You pressed the *test* button to run the code in safe-mode. Error after error. It managed one message, over and over, a simple, red colored ‘yo’, before it collapsed on itself. Your jaw tightened. “Dirk,” Jake tried again, gentler this time. “Please.” He coaxed you from your chair. He helped you into your suit. He brushed your hair into the style you’d kept since your teenage years, pausing just a moment to murmur about it needing a trim. The entire time he kept a hand on you. The entire time you felt cold and too heavy to stand. You never met his eyes but when his attempt at playing it strong crumbled you collapsed into his arms as he drew you into himself. You clung to him and for the first - and last - time you cried over your brother’s death. You didn’t make it to his funeral and neither did Jake. The two of you didn’t leave the floor where you’d dropped onto your knees for hours. He stayed with you and you cried. You cried until you were too exhausted to continue. “I know,” he whispered into your hair as your breathing finally began to regulate. His thumb rubbed little circles into your nape, single-handedly fighting the headache expanding out from your sinuses. “I’m right here. Always within arms length, yeah?” [ Wake up. ] Your bed is cold. It has been for years. Messages sat unanswered in your inbox. Roxy wants to game again, she found a new bug to exploit. Jane’s checking in. Rose has a new hate read recommendation. Dave’s rambling about the quality of his eye lenses for photography. Jake… The last message, a few days old now, is from you. We only work as friends.
(( Reasonable, fighting myself on your side actually
(( But what if I post angst?? What if what if
(( that’s actually so scary of u and i am afraid for Dirk /lh LMAOOO
(( LMAO real
Tonight's horse post is this little mule.
oh their ears are hugemongous
Pocket sized.
All the better to hear the masses cheering it on.
Grumble grumble grumble as I open the profile of someone I'll probably never talk to anyway and turn them down from "highlighter" to something more legible grumble grumble grumble
Huh. I didn’t realize that was an option before. Third eye opened.
Fumble. I’m a fake fan.
Confidence returned.