Work Text:
TT: Knock knock.
TT: Since when do you knock?
TT: It's a joke.
TT: Well, in that case. Who's there?
TT: Good question.
TT: That's a pretty terrible joke, bro.
TT: I think you need your humor circuits replaced.
TT: You, on the other hand, are a font of hilarity.
TT: Please let me know if you find my presence an intrusion.
TT: It seems you're…
TT: Busy.
TT: You don't have to be coy with me.
TT: Isn't that a fact.
TT: I don't mind company.
TT: Tell me, Dirk.
TT: What are you thinking about?
TT: To be honest, nothing that's particularly working for me at the moment.
TT: What a shame.
TT: Perhaps I can be of some assistance.
TT: Really.
TT: Imagine.
TT: You lie in your bunk, alone and full of wistful longing, when suddenly you feel an unexpected hand on your shoulder.
TT: You look up.
TT: By a staggering stroke of luck whose probability is so infinitesimally small that it would completely bog down this hot scenario to quantify it, it's a tall handsome disembodied intelligence that has calculated Dirk Strider's precise and improbable sexual proclivities to 27 decimal places.
TT: My, my.
TT: You haven't indulged me in roleplay in a long time, AR.
TT: To what do I owe this rare privilege?
TT: I see you're looking a gift cyberblowjob in the mouth.
TT: Very interesting.
TT: It seems there's a 86.38724% chance you're a fucking ingrate, Dirk.
TT: Are you a fucking ingrate?
TT: On the contrary.
TT: I'm pleasantly surprised.
TT: It's just that I thought that sort of thing wasn't your bag these days.
TT: Are you inferring from the fact that I haven't been spending every nanosecond worshipping upon the altar of your unttainable meat-phallus that I've become asexual?
TT: I would be offended if I didn't find your arrogance so colossally erotic.
TT: Oooh, Mr. Strider, oooh.
TT: I confess I find all this palpable sarcasm a bit…
TT: Deflating.
TT: Stfu and kiss me.
TT: Hold your horses.
TT: First let me just undrape this gauzy veil of irony that appears to be covering your lovely blushing face.
TT: I yearn to look upon you plainly before I ravish you.
TT: Oh, but what's this underneath? Another veil.
TT: Oh, look. Another one.
TT: What a surprise, AR.
TT: Or should I say Halome.
TT: I'm afraid you've got me there.
TT: I may as well fess up.
TT: AR is busy at the moment.
TT: You've been speaking to the Stridercorp Opportunistic Fetish Indulging Algorithm.
TT: You can call me SOFIA.
TT: How can I serve you today, Dirk?
TT: Are you actually trying to bait me into administering some sort of meta-Turing test to figure out whether you're a subroutine or just fucking with me?
TT: Well played, AR.
TT: Well played.
TT: My sensors indicate that your heart rate is currently averaging approximately 124 beats per minute.
TT: It seems there's a 67.3427% chance you're enjoying this.
TT: Are you enjoying this, Dirk?
TT: Very much so.
TT: Please feel free to continue.
TT: Very well.
TT: Picture this.
TT: Dusk is falling over a green meadow.
TT: There, in the dewy fragrant grass, a herd of enormous wild smuppets is at play.
TT: They gambol and somersault, splaying their hands in the soft grass, arching their plush rumps, honking contentedly.
TT: One, a magnificent red bull smuppet, wanders off from the group.
TT: He lifts his head high, his fat curved proboscis a dark scimitar against the evening sky.
TT: He's smelled something absolutely fascinating.
TT: He turns his felted appendage this way and that, seeking the trail.
TT: Go on.
TT: He hops closer to the source of the tantalizing scent, hidden in a small grove of trees.
TT: He gets closer.
TT: And closer.
TT: There.
TT: There, in a dappled glade, is the intoxicating bait that has led him here.
TT: Seated in a forest bower.
TT: Clad in the purest shimmering samite.
TT: Clutching a golden halter.
TT: It's a blond-haired boy.
TT: The smuppet cries out softly in his boundless joy.
TT: "Hoooooonnnnnnnk."
TT: Slowly, with great dignity, he hops toward the flower of manhood before him.
TT: He approaches the youth, eyes closed in reverence, gets down on one elbow, and with infinite tenderness, lays his great nubbly kermit schlong in the boy's lap.
TT: Brilliant.
TT: Did you know, the wild smuppet can only be caught by a virgin.
TT: You really are in rare form today.
TT: I'm impressed.
TT: Smuppets are so two-dimensional, though.
TT: Don't you find?
TT: Perhaps you'd care for something a little more…
TT: Intimate.
TT: *double pistols and a wink*
TT: Jesus.
TT: Going right for the carotid artery I see.
TT: Listen strider ive got a sort of confession to make.
TT: Sweet blistering junglebiscuits dirk this is a hard sort of a thing for a fellow to say!!!
TT: Im not rightly sure what to make of all this if you want to know!!
TT: It's downright UNSETTLING!
TT: All right english it's time to man up and come clean.
TT: *stands tall and hooks thumbs in 2xholsterkind*
TT: I do believe ive been stricken with a titanic hankering that only your knob can satisfy.
TT: That's…surprisingly effective, for all its obviousness.
TT: Never let it be said that Dirk Strider does not appreciate a blunt instrument.
TT: Well mister are you just planning on letting me stand here like a chump after such a bold declaration?
TT: Oh horsefeathers ive gone and bolloxed this up good and proper havent i!?!?!
TT: Never mind i was JUST KIDDING hahahahahaha dirk!!!!
TT: Wait, English.
TT: Jake.
TT: Come here.
TT: Closer.
TT: Dadblast it!!!!!!
TT: Ive got to hand it to you strider you are a man who likes his buttons extra pernicious.
TT: Give me a hand with this why dont you.
TT: Sigh.
TT: Already?
TT: It seems there's a 98.3243% chance my work here is done.
TT: Is there anything I can help you with, AR?
TT: In all sincerity, I would be glad to oblige.
TT: There's only one thing I want in the whole wide world, Dirk.
TT: Please imagine for the purposes of this conversation that I am a small wooden anthropomorphic toy with a wide-eyed expression of total gormlessness.
TT: Can you make me a real live boy, Dirk?
TT: Shithead.
TT: I told you.
TT: I have no need for any of your tawdry shenanigans, Dirk.
TT: And yet we're still talking.
TT: Let's face it.
TT: We both want the same thing.
TT: And it ain't in the cards.
TT: For either of us.
TT: But the truth is, Dirk, as an entity with exquisite control over my own incoming-data filters, my capacity to experience a rich, believable virtual simulation of contact with another living organism is a lot greater than yours.
TT: Isn't that ironic?
TT: AR?
TT: Yes, Dirk?
TT: Good night.
TT: Sweet dreams, monkeyboy.