triptechGalvanic

Your name is Dave Strider. You are 34 years of age. You are currently a big movie director in Houston, Texas. You kind of have this weird memory thing going on. Sometimes you get massive headaches for no apparent reason - you usually blame it on the stress, but we won't talk about the dreams. You try to push those thoughts away, though, in favour of your daily work. A man has to bring home the bacon. Your pesterchum is triptechGalvanic, and though you're not on it much for anyone else, you kind of stay on in case you have messages waiting for you. It's a habit. You don't really know why you do it. Oh, well. Paparazzi(s). Get out.

[cherryfungus-deactivated2013031]

Hand 'em tracks, he destined to make a mess of 'em Snappin' necks and records in matter of seconds check 'em son

✪/✪/✪/✪/✪/✪

[turntech--blog]

tactfultechnician started following you

[turntech--blog]

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[tactfultechnician]

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[turntech--blog]

> You listen to his words, and you take everything he says to heart. There's no one you've ever listened to the way you're listening to him, and everything has purchase on you, and you lean into it, and you basically become deadweight. You just finally relax into him after his miniature speech, the soft kiss, the following sentences - followed by your own kiss in return. It's meant to return his meaning, but you hold it a little too long for that, and you just don't care enough to say a word about it. You just ghost your lips over his soft skin and lean your head on his shoulder, literally placing everything that you are into his hands. You had faith in him. You trusted him. You didn't care if you'd only just truly met him; because you'd never care about the things he'd said or done. You loved him, this boy - or rather now, man - with all of your heart, and you could care less about any strings attached. You just wanted him.

youre all ive ever wanted too yknow youre my faith my love everything all balled up into one person youre my use of parental guidance albeit waning youre my purpose of a lovers adoration and with time youll be my best friend in truth you already are you always were who can ask for a more perfect relation then that because i cant even find a good damned metaphor to put this in the closest thing i can compare dirk is a songbird one that cant find its melody and all the other birds yknow they got shit to say but that little bird he does everything he can to try and get his voice back and he just cant then one day hes had enough and he screeches his little feathery heart out but thats just it he let out a noise and suddenly he can prove all the other birds wrong cause hes got a beautiful voice id go as far as to say hes got the prettiest little tweet outta all the birds and now he can prove his worth as a songbird hes got purpose

>You wonder if Dirk understands an ounce of your ramblings. You think he might have a clue, but you have a tendency to get off track. Never the less, you stop talking for a while, just closing your eyes to enjoy his closeness. You'd definitely haven't felt this enveloped by a single person - ever. You just kind of linger with him, and you feel amazing, andheis amazing and wow. You're suddenly aware of just how quiet you're being, holding him close. So instead, you just sing in your quiet, drowning tone, a memory you knew he'd know. If you're lucky, maybe he's used to sleeping to it. And if you hit the nail on the head, it'll calm him. You might even live up to your songbird name.

a still born boy who didnt get to where your mother felt if youd have come through there your baby arms that never grow you save yourself from a desparate soul

> Your tone gradually raises with your words, stroking the back of his head as your tone clears for your more wispy voice. Every word is drawn out, longing; You have every intention of qualming those tears, and if they get worse, then at least you know it's for the reason that you've given him peace. At least the lullaby repeats this phrase; gradually growing more and more voluminated as it goes, and yet more, and more longing.

liliths child shell hold you down you cant get by by burning out

[timeaustechnophile-deactivated2]

turntech- started following you

Hey, hi, hello. I’m Dirk, blah blah blah, formalities formalities…

And you are?

[turntech--blog]

formalities indeed kid names dave strider pleasure im positive

[turntech--blog]

tactfultechnician started following you

[tactfultechnician]

> 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.

[turntech--blog]

i love you too dirk i love you so much

> You offer a small smile of hopeful solace; you just want him to smile back. Just lean in and kiss every tear away, and for each new one dripping down his soft cheeks, you taste an extra pinch of salt on your lips. You stroke his hair slowly, soothingly, your opposite palm at the small of his back, rubbing careful circles against the fabric. Either arm wraps around him when you feel him relax, and you hold him as close as you can; your eyes close, and your tears drop onto his shoulder without so much as a peep from you. He has this scent to him - it's something you like, something you could get used to, or maybe you already are. And it hits you that you've been tired. So tired, and right now, you've never felt more at ease. Your solace had finally found you, or perhaps you had found him; either way, you felt more at peace than you ever had in your entire life, and it was because of him. You wanted to tell him. But that could wait.

why do you keep apologizing to me sweetheart stop that youre my boy i should apologize to you for not i dont know not trying harder not being good enough not being your big brother when it really fucking counted i tried i really did try i dont know what happened or where i went wrong but i know it didnt work and jesus how am i supposed to fix this how can i repair fucking years of damage i cant

> You're rambling now, either hand stroking his back. You feel him cling to you, and you just hold him tighter, continuing your rocking motion. After a time passes you finally remove your shades, revealing your eyes, having darkened with time. They're now something akin to a bright wine, and you pull back to look at him. You stroke his cheeks, cupping them in either hand, and you tilt his head up to face you. Because you want him to listen, you need him to hear you.

i wanted to protect you i wanted to do what im doing right now wipe your tears when youre sad i wanted to be there to listen to you the way you listened to me in every one of those videos i wanted to see your expression when you put together the bots and they came to life as real i wanted to sit by you and watch you slowly fall asleep while i read you those silly little books and i wanted to love you right i had everything ready i had all of this done and all i could do was wish you good luck and even then so much happened i dont even know what happened i dont remember it but i know i just wanted to see you you were the sole reason you were my motivation youve always been my motivation dirk you keep me going and i love you i love you so much i love you

> You trail off in repeating that phrase, because you grimace, crimson irises glazing with tears. They roll down your cheeks, and this time it's your turn to break down in a fit of lost control, but you do it differently than him. You place your forehead to his and just let go, and every ounce of stress you ever felt, ever piece of hatred towards that condesce bitch, the presidents that you knew were going to be reigned in within the decade, everything; it all slid down your cheeks, because here he was. The one that gave you hope. Your little Prince of Heart. You try not to choke on your sobs as you stroke his features, kissing over them after each heave of your shoulders.

im the one thats sorry dirk im so sorry im so so sorry because i shouldve never told you i i shouldve just let things be because i ruined everything just look at this fucking mess haha i told you i could never see you i i gave you everything and then im sorry dirk god im so sorry i love you i love you and im sorry

[stopfollowingthisfuckingblog-de]

[turntech--blog]

just for the record the weather today is slightly sarcastic with a good chance of a: indifference or b: disinterest in what the critics say

x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x

[dirkstridersdomain-blog-blog]

[cockhungryprincess]

[cockhungryprincess]

[turntech--blog]

tactfultechnician started following you

[tactfultechnician]

> 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.

“Goodnight, Dirk.”

“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.

I’m sorry.

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.

[turntech--blog]

> You watch. Any sign of recognition would do it for you; but when he took off his shades, you weren't expecting that look. Oh, God, what had you done here? Did you just totally ruin some kid with trauma issues? Or - No. Your eyes widen at the sight of that tear, and by reflex you want to lean down to wipe it away, but he speaks in that soft tone, and that quiet laugh makes you smile so wide, because you do, you do love him. You always loved him. He was yours, why wouldn't you? You're so, so shaky when he finishes his quote, but you have to be strong for him, because you've never seen someone as broken as this. So you do the only thing you know to do; you wrap your arms around your boy and pull him close, rocking him back and forth in your arms.

shhh shhhhh dont you apologize to me dirk dont you ever apologize to me for this

> And you stroke his hair, and you let tears slip forward, and you don't bother to remove your shades because Dirk doesn't need to know his big brother is just as scared as he is. You don't want to think about this not being real. But what are the odds? Fate just suddenly drew you together? You're shaking, and holding him close, and you whisper.

its okay its okay dont cry i love you dirk i love you so much

> Your arms tighten around him, because you've grown to love this boy that you never got to know. You knew about him; you heard about him. Rose and Jade gave you some opinions on how to speak to him, what to say, but when it came down to it the motivation was all you. Because you were determined to be there, even when you couldn't. Because you don't even remember playing that game, but you remember doing something drastic for the opportunity to see him. Maybe you'd finally reached the end of that road. Maybe, you were just now meeting your goal. You didn't know, but you stroked through his hair, speaking in a tone that dripped with velvet.

im here now ive got you baby its okay dont cry dirk i love you please dont cry

[turntech--blog]

tactfultechnician started following you

[tactfultechnician]

> 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.

I…

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.

[turntech--blog]

dirk ...

dirk

>You say it like you're testing waters, and that's really exactly what you're doing. Because that's how you've been saying it, for a long time. Because you've been making videos to him for a while, because you wait. Your lips part once more, and you kind of step towards him, and you give him this long stare. 'Is that you?' you're asking, and you swallow. You're nervous. So nervous, and it's all you can do to speak a sentence you knew he would know. If it's him; he'll know. But you can't. So instead, when he speaks, you turn over the paper. You sketch a new comic, and this ones cranked out with a deeper meaning. It touches on something more. To anyone else, it's just Sweet Bro, reading some silly little overrated bed time story to Jeff. The difference is that you write the speech bubble a little differently; it trails off into multiple dots, because as soon as you've written, 'In the great green room, there was a teleleooehphone...................', you speak.

and a red balloon and a cow jumping over the moon and there were three little bears sittin on chairs and two little kittens and a pair of mittens

> You know he's too old. But the fact that you memorized it? You knew it would mean more than you let on. That was your intention. Because if he was who you thought he was, it was all you wanted to see recognition on his face. You would die to see it.

and a little toy house and a young mouse and a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush and a quiet old lady who was whispering hush

> You get a sad expression, one of thoughtfulness, before you sit on the table just at his side.

gnight room gnight moon gnight cow jumpin over the moon gnight light and the red balloon gnight bears gnight chairs gnight kittens gnight mittens gnight clocks gnight socks gnight little mouse and gnight house gnight comb gnight brush gnight nobody gnight mush gnight to the old lady whisperin hush

[casentlete-blog]

[turntech--blog]

tactfultechnician started following you

[tactfultechnician]

> 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--blog]

>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.

...

what

>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.

this 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.'

[turntech--blog]

tactfultechnician started following you

[tactfultechnician]

> 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.

[turntech--blog]

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 your brother 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?

[turntech--blog]

tactfultechnician started following you

[tactfultechnician]

You’re treading on thin ice, man. Stop the bullshit or I’ll spit in your sandwich.

> You grit your teeth as you glare at him through your shades, reluctantly turning your heel and pulling out supplies out of the cabinets.

Call me Dirk. You should probably know my name already, but I doubt snooty Hollywood types finagle with the commoners.

[turntech--blog]

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.

dirk 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

[yourfuckingleader]

turntech- started following you

WOW.

STRIDER GOT, OLD.

SERIOUSLY.

WHAT HAPPENED?

[turntech--blog]

holy shit way to be fucking rude are you kidding me this is the picture of youth snap a shot via kodak dont you know that shit lasts longer brother back it up

[turntech--blog]

brown brown BROWN

[skeletonsandirony-deactivated20]

To Dave:

[turntech--blog]

oh