Transmigration of a soul

tabescentgalahad:

>Dave: Patiently wait.

This is a fairly abnormal thing for you, on most occasions. You have a habit of becoming easily irritated during long periods of waiting unless have one of your addictions to subdue you.

Though you have neither a drink nor a cigarette to mollify the anxiousness that would normally irk you, you feel strangely content. You hum quietly from the back of your throat, lazily picking at your fingernails and plucking a few specks of lint from your vest.

When you glance over and see the handle turning, you straighten up a little and ease your shades up the bridge of your nose, folding your arms as the door opens and reveals your little brother, bundled up in a childish and particularly ironic blanket. Or at least, you say it’s ironic. One of the main things to remember about irony is that to make it as truly ironic as possible, you have to wrap it back around into being genuine.

You guess he just likes flowery little Disney women. No harm in that.

Probably.

Maybe.

Oh well, at least you already know he’s about as straight as Liberace taking it up the ass from Elton John while listening to a Cher album.

Your lips tilt up into the tiniest of smiles as you eye him from behind your shades, “Nice outfit. Diggin’ the little Disney cape thing you’ve got going on. It’d be almost villain-esque if not for the jubilant faces of pasty white princesses.”

Without another word, you fish your keys out of your pocket and make your way down the hall to the stairs (it’s basically a known family rule that the elevators aren’t to be used), jogging effortlessly down the several flights, fully expecting him to be following you with just as much ease.

>Dane: Follow.

Blanket dragging behind you like an oversized cape, you step lightly to avoid tripping over its fluffy trail. 

“It’s perfectly suited for a villain’s robe,” you retort to Dave’s hinted barb at the manliness of your blanket. “I’ve sewn the very corpses of these royal maidens into a cape that would make PETA’s hearts explode in a fiery blaze of overbearing righteous anger. The princesses’ mouths are frozen in a perpetual terror-smile, such the taxidermist left specifically to inspire fear into the hearts of those who come within viewing distance of my getup. For those who see this ensemble do not survive to tell the tale.”

You pause for dramatic effect. You also pause because you have to concentrate, else you’ll fall down the stairs, something no amount of warning can fully prevent.

When you reach the bottom floor, you continue. “This means, of course, your days are numbered. I suggest you get a bucket list in order.”

tabescentgalahad:

>Dave: Hastily backtrack.

You can practically taste the tension roiling off of Dane, a churning, bubbling pit of irritation deep in him and for a moment you aren’t sure what you’ve done wrong. You grasp feebly onto a shred of hope that maybe you can fix this, as it doesn’t seem to be going the way you wanted at all.

With a moment of fumbling hesitation, your brow creases and you gesticulate a little wildly, trying to find the correct words to say. You’ve never been very good at apologies, much less being sincere about them.

You just wanted a chance to spend time with him after all your self-loathing turmoil for the past month or so — hell, it was probably more like a couple of years. You owed him that much, just a little peace for the both of you to relax and be normal, if that’s what he wanted.

“Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean it,” you pause, frowning a little when the thought of his crotch rocket is pushed into your mind, but you try to ignore it, “I was just messin’ with you, I really didn’t mean to imply your cock was of abnormally minuscule size or somethin’.”

A small sigh escapes you and your brush your hair back as it threatens to dip into your line of vision.

“And don’t talk about your cock and my rectum in the same sentence. My sphincter just nearly sucked itself up into a gaping warp hole, like some version of smutty Portal assplay.”

For a second you almost forget he asked you to leave the room, but after a second of deliberation you push off from the door frame and stroll out of the door, leaning against the wall next to it to wait patiently.

>Dane: Doubt yourself.

You were certain he was being antagonistic, but his reaction to your quip came completely from left field. Before you can muster a joke to set the mood at ease, he’s left the room, closing the door behind him.

The air is cool around you as you roll out of bed, landing on the floor sprawled out naked like a butterfly ripped too early from his cocoon. The carpet rubs against your back uncomfortably, but you don’t move for a solid minute, staring up at the ceiling. 

The cold pulls goosebumps prickling from your skin, so you finally yank yourself to your feet and throw something on. It doesn’t really matter to you what it happens to be, considering your immediate return to a blanket that wiggled its way to the floor during the scuffle with Dave.

You tuck your face into the soft fleecey smile of Snow White and open the door.

“Kay, I’m ready.”

tabescentgalahad:

>Dave: Tease him a little.

You jerk back a little when he lashes out like some caged, vicious animal, trying not to view him with amusement, even if you chuckle low in your throat. It’s almost got a condescending little lilt to it, mostly from years of looking down on him from some superior parental pedestal.

You clear your throat and move off the bed when he shoves you, eyes rolling behind your dark shades. This is probably the most expressive he’s seen you in months, but it’s nice to let your guard down just a little, even if he’s taking the moment to snap at you irritably.

Although you aren’t all too sure of what caused this sudden change in his mood, you can’t complain because it seems to have jumpstarted his ass into gear.

Moving toward the door, you lean against the frame and cross your arms, glancing at him from over your glasses.

“Why do I gotta get out? You’re acting like I’ve never seen your little dongle before. I wiped your ass, man, don’t think stripping is going to faze me.”

>Dane: Bristle with embarrassment.

You hate when Dave laughs at you. It doesn’t happen often, but the times that condescending bark escapes him, you never fail to feel worthless, stupid, like one of the idiotic members of your peer group instead of someone of your above-average intellect. Today is not a day you appreciate this in any way. Most other days you could brush it off as merely an attempt to goad you into anger. 

Secretly, you did kind of like the idea of spending the day on the road with your brother. Now you’re not so sure; it seems his main motivation in suggesting this trip is to find opportunities to insult and embarrass you.

“An infant phallus is much different from a grown man’s, which I thought was fairly obvious, and I’m not taking any chances with you. I know how you pine for cocks inside your impudent rectum.”

The last thing you need are his simpering comments on the size and shape of the Stallion, which you know for a fact is also above average, like every other important part of you.

He can just fuck right off.

tabescentgalahad:

>Dave: Continue your pestering.

Your face breaks out into a grin, a real, genuine twist of your mouth that is so foreign it almost hurts. You practically expect to hear the bones of your jaw creak with discomfort and the muscles to fight stubbornly against your abnormally amused expression.

A very nearly inaudible sound issued from beneath the fortress of duvet that’s now swathing your brother in what he thinks is some barrier of protection, and it makes you halt for a moment, leaning in over the lump of blankets. You want to laugh but something about the pitiful little squawk makes you feel a little guilty.

Not that guilt has ever stopped you.

Gently, you prod him, face slipping back into that very vaguely amused but otherwise deadpan expression. It’s common and familiar to you, easier than forcing your face into something flaunting any sort of true emotion. You figure you shouldn’t scare the shit out of him by digging down into his blanket cavern with a ridiculous smile on your face. Even to you the thought seems distinctly terrifying.

“C’mon,” you huff, an unusual amount of energy built up in you despite the lack of fervent drinking lately, “It’ll be fun and I’m afraid I’m going to come in here one day and find that you’ve melted into a helpless puddle of mush, bed fibers clinging to your soggy blob of a body. I won’t even be able to bury you properly, I’ll just have to prop the mattress up against the living room wall.”

You shove at him a little impatiently, going as far to drape yourself across his thin blanketed body and pull away some of the covers to peer in at him.

“Let’s go, goddamnit. Either you come willingly or I tie you up in these disgusting sheets — what the hell man they look like a lonely neckbeard has been fapping to his anime waifu on these — and drag you out to the car myself.”

As if assuring him of your intent to follow through on your threat, you pull back and begin groping for the edges of the sheets beneath him, yanking them up until you’d be able to pull them together and lift him in the makeshift kidnapping accessory.

>Dane: Become a limp dead weight.

If Dave won’t leave you alone, you’re going to make it difficult for him. You’re not conscious enough to formulate the snapping remarks you’d normally fling in his direction, so instead you feign being one of the puppets he hates so much, a Raggedy Dandy made of flesh and at least a hundred times the poundage.

Ignoring his barbs at your bedding hygiene, you embrace your new identity as a motionless blob, although you can’t quite ignore the pressing weight of your brother draped across you. 

It’s when he starts groping at you that you suddenly find your nerve endings crackling again and you jump, thrashing out of his intentful grasp. 

“Okay, okay, I’m getting up!” you gripe, shoving him off. “Now get out so I can get dressed without you ogling my body like an escaped mental patient with a propensity for voyeurism.” 

youareahomosexual started following you

Blatantly obvious remarks for a hundred, Alex.

>Dave: Take this situation into your own hands.

tabescentgalahad:

You hum low in your throat, drumming your long, thin fingers against the wood of your desk. You stare blankly ahead, the dusty cogs of your mind slowly working through the cobwebs and rust formed over years of drinking heavily and ignoring any rational thought.

Yes, you’ve been absent a lot, and you know Dane must feel at least a little bitter toward you. You’re pretty sure the neglect of a ward is considered child abuse, anyway. You would rather not have anything else for CPS to peg you with.

But at the same time, you’ve distanced yourself purposely. Only vaguely do you realize this, a small voice in the back of your head trying to assure you of your reasoning, but you squash it before it can truly form into a cognizant thought at the forefront of your mind. You would rather not broach the subject at all.

Lifting your near empty bottle of Jack Daniels, you place your lips against the rim of the top of the bottle neck, pausing as you taste the whiskey on your mouth.

A sudden idea plants itself firmly in your brain and you place the alcohol back down, no longer craving the taste.

You are determined to spend time with your brother, whether he likes it or not.

Hopefully he likes it.

It would suck if he didn’t.

Still, he seems hell bent on rejecting the idea of a road trip, saying he’d much rather stay curled up in a pathetic little ball, moping his winter away and pouting at tumblr childishly.

So you’re not going to give him a choice.

You push back from your desk and slip out of the living room, treading carefully across the carpet, completely silent. You’re met with a closed door when you move to Dane’s room, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. The inhuman speed at which you can move makes it so that opening the door and darting into his room takes nearly less than a second, and the door would be shown as just barely opening.

For a moment you hesitate, tilting your head as you watch him stare despondently at his computer screen, fingers idly trailing across the keyboard as he undoubtedly formulates some long winded reply to whoever has been unlucky enough to initiate conversation with him at a time like this.

Quietly as ever, you make a swift movement toward his bed and practically tackle him, jumping onto his bed and tangling the both of you up in his sheets.

“We’re going on a road trip, dickbag, get your bone yard ass up or I’m going to hijack your shit and drag you out myself! We’re taking the Vanquish, by the way.”

>Dane: Find yourself interrupted from your melodramatic melancholy rudely.

‘Rude’ is one way to put it. A more accurate description would probably be ‘startlingly sudden and inducing heart attack.’ In your despondent moods, you find yourself staring off into space and staring at your computer screen, text blurring and scarring into your retinas, and not a whole lot else catches your attention. In fact, you honestly don’t notice a whole lot else outside your teenage depression-bubble. 

Ordinarily you would have noted Dave’s entrance before he could startle you that violently, but today is one of those days your peripherals in all senses are dulled and feel pointless. So instead of outing his appearance with a sassy remark, you don’t notice him until you’re tackled like a quarterback about to make the winning touchdown and then smothered beneath your tangled sheets, a kitten trapped in a burlap sack and drowned in a river by a misanthropic farmer.

The noise you make is unfortunately apt for that metaphor, and you thank everything you’ve ever held dear that your head was buried under a mass of blanketry when your vocal chords squawled in betrayal.

Before you can muster a suitably indignant complaint to Dave’s clear violation of your personal space, both emotional and physical, he says something.

“We’re going on a road trip, dickbag, get your bone yard ass up or I’m going to hijack your shit and drag you out myself! We’re taking the Vanquish, by the way.”

This is just exactly the thing you wanted to do today, how lovely of him to figure it out. You were clearly pining to drive nowhere in particular with the way you were unmoving from your bed.

“Get off of me, you crack-snorting gonad,” you gripe, and take the opportunity of being covered in fabric to burrow deeper under your dirty covers.

tabescentgalahad:

timaeustestimony:

The lull of early January is getting to me, I think. Winter’s been slowly unfurling itself among the dropped leaves and dying grasses, and although the sky is still bereft of clouds and precipitation, there’s a lurking fog of colder days beneath the scalding sun. 

Seasonal affective disorder doesn’t always hit me hard, but this year… Motivation has been sapped, and things I would have easily found interest in are leaving me with a clinging sense of dissatisfaction. Dave has largely been absent, and while I have an assortment of robotic entities to converse with, it’s much too similar to talking to a mirror to be able to get much deeper enjoyment out of it. The AI programs are based on myself, so I can expect the sort of reactions I receive fairly accurately.

Lalonde has been busy, Jake’s been acting odder than usual, and Jane is still grounded which apparently includes the internet this time. 

Maybe I’ll order a pizza or something equally as unhealthy and gorge myself on it today.

Seems like just as good a plan as any other pointless and fleeting activity I could come up with.

jesus kid i swear sometimes youre the most melodramatic shit ive ever seen i feel like you were plucked right out of romeo and juliet and came crashing down to earth on a deus ex machina meteor with that sort of florid prose about nothing in particular

i uh was actually thinking maybe we could do some shit together

im not entirely sure yet but something cutely familial like a shitty road trip to no where in particular just to wander around and have people assume we are the top notch on the belt of caring normality

but if you wanna gorge yourself to blotation on a greasy round bread loaded up with fattening add-ons thats good too

…Which vehicle would we be taking, should we go on this aimless road trip? I’d like to be able to sleep should the urge arise. 

Of course, this is all hypothetical, as my bed has become quite an elaborate nest of amenity, despite the sordid airs, and I do not feel like moving anytime in the next century.

beatshieldmaiden replied to your post: The lull of early January is getting to me, I…

Go get a Cinnabon!

If I could locate one without having to move from my bed, I would get right on that.

The lull of early January is getting to me, I think. Winter’s been slowly unfurling itself among the dropped leaves and dying grasses, and although the sky is still bereft of clouds and precipitation, there’s a lurking fog of colder days beneath the scalding sun. 

Seasonal affective disorder doesn’t always hit me hard, but this year… Motivation has been sapped, and things I would have easily found interest in are leaving me with a clinging sense of dissatisfaction. Dave has largely been absent, and while I have an assortment of robotic entities to converse with, it’s much too similar to talking to a mirror to be able to get much deeper enjoyment out of it. The AI programs are based on myself, so I can expect the sort of reactions I receive fairly accurately.

Lalonde has been busy, Jake’s been acting odder than usual, and Jane is still grounded which apparently includes the internet this time. 

Maybe I’ll order a pizza or something equally as unhealthy and gorge myself on it today.

Seems like just as good a plan as any other pointless and fleeting activity I could come up with.

((Is anyone having problems with Tumblr right now?))

((Dane’s account is working completely normally, but my personal isn’t. It keeps telling me the servers are at full capacity. I cleared my cache and cookies and refreshed, and it made me sign back in, only to tell me that the server was full again.

Tumblr’s been a huge piece of poo lately and this is actually kind of worrying me. Any advice from the peanut gallery?))