inheritthegrey | Dave and Dirk

Dave and Dirk

You're still inside the hall, and you can still see the other pairs, but you can neither hear them nor, for some reason, interpret their body language in any meaningful fashion, even if you're normally good at such things.

Two stones - or maybe peach pits? - lie on the floor in front of you. One has the number 1 on it; the other has 2. You get the impression that each of you should pick one.

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Note, this is not a decision with monumentous consequences, so it should ideally be done with fairly quickly.

1: You have stolen something important to 2. Now, they are finally about to confront you. What will you do?

2: 1 has stolen something important to you. Now, you are finally ready to confront them. What will you do?

Edited 2012-10-09 21:47 (UTC)

[You can assume that your character intrinsically knows and understands these. If something's unclear to you, the player, please ping me.]

* - There is nothing preventing you from discussing the situation with your partner, "OOC," but the point is to play it out, not talk about it.

* - The details of what happened and why are yours to make up. There are no secret "true" answers for you to discover.

* - You know, intrinsically, that the ‘you’ is a role. The role can share traits with your real self, but it doesn’t have to.

* - One of the cardinal rules of improve is “don’t deny your partner.” So, if your partner says “you’re a dick.” Don’t say “No, I’m not.” You don’t have to agree with everything they say, but if you disagree, you should do so in a way which adds to the story, not subtracts from it. So, for instance, “Of course you’d think I’m a dick. I can’t believe all those lies your parents have been feeding you about me!” is fine.

1: 2 has killed someone important to you. Now, you are ready to confront them. What will you do?

2: You have killed someone important to 1. They are now about to confront you. What will you do?

[picks up '1']

[i guess that means I'm picking up two]

[wow you might notice the faintest lip twitch as he stares at his #2 for a moment then...]

I'm not gonna let this go down like I am the cool dude comically making complaints that resemble those of a snubbed chick, but for real bro, what the fuck? That was my first time. We could've at least cuddled.

[o h m y g o d

this shit is on like donkey dong]

Bro, you knew how I rolled way before you crawled into my bed naked and started slobbering all over my junk.

That you consistently roll up and down Too Cool For Physical or Emotional Closeness Lane so often that you basically just live there is news that is far from fresh. But you kind of implicitly agreed to at least take a fucking detour when you start going on about your sudden burning interest in experimentation.

Ok the shit that I say when I am engaging in my favorite social lubricant-slash-escapist drug alcohol cannot be held against me in the court of your precious fucking virgin maid feelings.

Dude those fruity cocktails you drink that are basically composed of 100% rainbow piss do not even have the alcoholic content to allow play of the inebriation card. And we already been done and in case you forgot, I was there. Too late to claim it ain't your scene.

There basically isn't anything with a dick whose scene isn't getting his wang worshiped by a voracious sausage guzzler, and frankly, unless you've been practicing on cucumbers you better put that v-card back where you found it behind the dumpster.

Zucchini. The delicate skin makes for a more realistic simulation. I'm going to take that complement in it's full unintended spirit because it's always nice to know that dedication and forethought reap their own rewards. You're still on the hook for being a cold dbag, though.

I already told you, princess. Behind this steely cold visage are yet more successive layers of metal and ice. Just because you got a little taste of the heat I'm packing doesn't mean you're in closer to getting burned up.

Bullshit, a true robot could not find enough fucks in his chilly clockwork heart to require immediately fleeing the scene.

I didn't want you to get your jizz all up in my works.

You should have just said so, I would've pulled out. I'm not without any fucking class.

So you can come all over my bare ass and get off even more on that possessive marking fetish of yours? I'm only willing to be your fantasy fuel to a point, bro. After you live the dream there's only nightmares and reality, and they're both frostier bitches than I could ever be.

So what you're saying is the emotionless dickbag routine is part of some complicated cocktease to make sure I never have to come down.

It's all for you, bro. Better to be licked by the flame than be swallowed by the fire.

As sweet as your misplaced concern is, I don't think there's any real room for questioning whether or not I can take the heat. Or the cold. You're kinda wandering all over the place with the temperature metaphors.

No bro this is one-hundred percent consistent. Cold outside, hot inside. Get a fucking pen, Jesus.

Ok let me use it to sketch out a visual response. Your manipulations to balance your searing hotness against the frigid emptiness of the void creates a tepid ambient temperature more suited to your comforts than mine.

Holy shit, keep a lid on those insults. I can take a lot of sass but calling a guy lukewarm is crossing a fucking line.

Sorry bro but that's pretty much the only outcome when you're afraid of leaving the middle ground.

Edited 2012-10-10 02:15 (UTC)

Middle ground? Fuck that, I'm on the front line. I'm in the trenches. There are grenades getting tossed around, shit exploding, shrapnel flying--there goes Johnny's leg, how the fuck is he going to go home and run Olympic track now? That's what you get for trying to be a goddam hero. I'm just keeping my head down until they ship me back home and I can start self-medicating my PTSD with some medical-grade alcohol, and I'll be plenty happy if it keeps me lukewarm.

You see? This is where this cuddling bullshit gets you. Now it's dead never to rise again unless you let me be the big spoon right fucking now.

Let me just make sure I've got this right. Little spoon, turn off, big spoon, turn on. Is that where we're at dude, because your esoteric process of arousal is starting to sound a little ridiculous even by my standards.

Fuck no, big spoon just ups this horrible boner kill back to equilibrium. If you want to understand the mysteries of my boner then you have to get hands-on. And considering this debacle is your fault, what are you going to do about it?

Edited 2012-10-10 00:53 (UTC)

Well fuck. I guess we need to resolve this situation in a civil and considerate manner. What do you want me to do about it?

Get your fucking restorations on, that's what. My dong is a centuries-old masterpiece. Bone up on the techniques of the time period, none of this quick-and-easy impersonal modern shit—I want some fucking tenderness and care.

I might have to resort to some experimental techniques but I think I'm up for the challenge.

That's what I'm talking about. Sneak that shit right under the radar of the Federal Fucking Around With Art people and have your way with me stroke by stroke in a musty backroom surrounded by dead mummies and tomb swag.

Holy shit, if you're into the illegal stuff why bother with back rooms? I bet we find a suitably public space in broad daylight to proudly display this masterpiece you're after.

Like I want those goddam posers getting an eyeful. They couldn't fucking handle it,

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Dave and Dirk

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