thoughtformed | (no subject)

Interesting...

[ didn't think rose was into that. ]

Now close your eyes and get some rest.

You think that's weird, you should've seen her dream library.

[He listens, though, and pulls the blanket up over his shoulder.]

You comfortable down there, dude?

I'm fine.

[ that means shut up, dave. ]

[Dave? Shutting up? Ever?]

I can get you a pillow. Rose is like. The queen of pillows. Actual title. You heard it here first.

I'll get a pillow.

[ he will make you shut up if he has to. he goes to grabs like 3 pillows.

throws one at dave. ]

[Dave snags it out of the air, because that, at least, is familiar. Is it bad that having stuff randomly chucked at him gives him a quick shot of that warm, homey feel?]

Thanks, bro.

Yeah, now take a nap.

[ he settles back down, book in hand. ]

Yeah, all right.

[He lies there for a little while, not even really trying to sleep, before shifting over so he can quietly look over Dirk's shoulder.]

[ he's just flipping at the pages slowly, it's a little hard to tell if he's actually reading or not.

it doesn't take long for dirk to feel him watching though. ]

You that interested in this book? Should I even read a page or two out loud for you?

[ don't say yes he's teasing. ]

[Dave actually laughs a little.]

Depends. Are you gonna change all the names to porn stars and make them fight to the death? Bonus points for every NPC that's on fire by the end.

Not exactly, but I'll give it a shot.

[ alright so he starts to read. (( I DID THIS FOR YOU DON'T LAUGH AT MY EFFORTS )) ]

Poor Princess came into the room a little flustered and hustled, with a item censored for your imagination in her muff. She found Cherry looking like she doesn't give a fuck as usual.

Princess Donna was a modern-looking girl of twenty-three; tall, thin, smart and just the right shape; not pretty, but had the body for anyone to care, with thick dark hair and strongly marked eyebrows, a rather long and narrow face, delicately modelled, a clear white complexion, and soft, sincere brown eyes. (Shit it's like they're setting her up to be the perfect porn star.)

Cherry Torn was known as a beauty. She was indeed improbably pretty, small, plump and very fair, with soft golden hair that was silky and yet fluffy, perfectly regular little features, and a kind of infantine sweetness, combined with an almost incredible cleverness that was curious and fascinating. She was of a type remote equally from the fashion-plate and the suffragette, and was so physically attractive that one could hardly be near her without longing to put out a finger and touch her soft, fair face or her soft hair; as one would like to touch a fuckin' porn star. And yet one felt that it would not be an entirely safe thing to do; like she secretly was a furry or something. But it is probable that a large average of her acquaintance had been weak enough-or strong enough-to give way to the temptation and take the risk.

This charming little creature sat in a room furnished in clear, pale colours-that was pink, white and blonde like herself. Princess Donna sat down without greeting her, saying in a surly voice,

He’s refused again ... more excuses ... always, always excuses!"

Well, all the better; excuses are a form of compliment. I’d far rather have a lot of apology and attenuation than utter coolness,” said Cherry Torn consolingly. She had a low, even voice, and rarely made a gesture. Her animation was all in her eyes. They were long, bluish-grey, with dark lashes, and very expressive.

“Oh, you’d like a man to fuck and say that he couldn’t come to dinner because it was his mother’s birthday, and he always spend the night with her on that occasion, and besides he was in deep mourning for his exploding cat, and was going to the first night at the Sundowner, and was expecting some old friends up from the country to stay with him, and would be out of town scoring at the time?”

“Certainly; so much inventive ingenuity is most flattering. Don’t you think it’s better than to say on the telephone that he's a douche bag who needs to be set on fire?” said Cherry Torn.

Tom Thumbs doesn't deserve that! He’s intensely polite; politeness is ingrained in his nature even if his cat liked to take dumps on his favorite seat. (So much for pets being like their owners). I’m rather hopeless about it all; and yet when I think how sometimes when I speak to him and he doesn’t answer but wonders when the fuck he's getting his moneys worth

"How well I know that shitty thought is discouraging yet spurring you on to further efforts! ... Tom Thumbs! What a name! How can people be called Tom? It isn’t done, you’re not living in shitville, you must change the man’s name, dear. It's not like he has a fuckin' awesome pony. ”

“Indeed I sha’n’t! Nonsense; it’s a beautiful name! Tom Thumbs! It suits him; it suits me. Cherry, you can’t deny it’s a handsome, noble face, like some dude we don't care about. And he must take a certain amount of interest in me, because he wants me to learn more, to be more cultured. He’s so accomplished! He knows simply everything. The other day he sent me a book called sex positions 101.”

“Did he, though? How jolly!"

"A little volume of sexing, too-that tiny edition, beautifully bound.” Cherry Torn made an inarticulate sound. “And you know he found out my birthday, and sent me a few dark red roses and something that is seriously still not a fuckin' pony.

“Nothing like being up to date,” said Cherry Torn “Right up to the day after to-morrow! Tom always is. How did he find out your birthday?”

“How do you think? I cut the bullshit and told him".

“Ah, I thought perhaps it was some ingenious plan like that. I should think that’s the way he usually finds out things-by being told.”

“Cherry, why do you sneer at him?”

“Did I not make it clear I want you to fuck me, bitch? Forget about that douchebag.“

“ But I'm not the furry here. A-oh, Cherry Torn!“

And then they fucked the end. A hundred girls came running during, set on fire by some strange mysterious reason, lighting all the candles in the area before running out. Tom Thumbs later exploded like his cat, both survived but he never got that name change.

[[OOC: I DO NOT DESERVE THIS ARTISTRY. YOU ARE ENTIRELY TOO GOOD TO ME.]]

[For once, Dave is a great listener. Maybe there are benefits to getting the kid sick--or maybe it's just Dirk. He doesn't interrupt, he chuckles quietly (ow, laughing hurts) in all the right places (okay, and some of the wrong ones, but hell, this is great), and eventually he stops trying to read along, just lets his head fall on the pillow again and listens.

I'm not saying Bro read little Dave porn star Cinderella when he was growing up, but I'm not saying he didn't, either.]

Edited 2012-08-10 12:51 (UTC)

[It is something like three in the morning, though, and if Dirk checks, it's clear Dave fell asleep sometime before the mysterious fire of the hundred babes.

Good story, bro.]

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Oh my GOD you are BEAUTIFUL

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