dirk bingo


Dirk Bingo
ACEN 2013
Dirk: Xin
Assistant: Toppledcards

A new record, ladies and gentlemen - Xin managed to fit FIVE costumes into thirty minutes! * This feat has become affectionately titled “Dirk Bingo.”
It was accomplished by finding a very secluded area and clever clothes layering. I’m STILL surprised we managed this!

DISCLAIMER: Professionally devoid of sanity. Do not attempt without consulting with primary care physician/ security guards who will look at you funny the entire time.

longroadstonowhere  asked:

prompt: jane and dirk, the little things, one of them helps the other recover from a bad mood? (sorry, less good at the scenario part of things)

Oh look, it’s more Alpha Timeline Fluff! And this one is genuinely and incontrovertibly fluffy! (…Pay no attention to Dirk’s champion lying-by-implication near the end.) [~1000 words]

A Problem That You’ll Understand

– gutsyGumshoe [GG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] –

GG: Dirk, are you busy?
GG: I don’t want to be a nuisance, but if you have a few minutes I would deeply appreciate the loan of your ears.
GG: Or your eyes, as the case may be.
GG: Although it suddenly occurs to me that a text-to-speech interface might be very useful for maintaining communication while your hands are engaged in a task that’s either too messy or too time-sensitive to constantly interrupt for typing.
GG: Obviously I can use my tiaratop if I want to chat while baking, but I know you and Roxy have Views on Crockercorp products. :B
GG: …
GG: I conclude from the available evidence that you are, in fact, busy, and what you’re doing involves adjustments to your auto-responder.
GG: My apologies for any distraction I may have caused.
GG: I’ll stop bothering you for now.

TT: Wait.

GG: Yes?

TT: Thirty seconds.
TT: Ok, all yours. What’s wrong?

GG: What makes you assume something is amiss?
GG: Can’t a dame simply want to chat with one of her gentleman friends?

TT: Sure she can. But while Holmesian deduction isn’t my forte, I can put two and two together to get four.
TT: Something’s eating you, and not in the fun way.
TT: Lay it on me, Jane.
TT: I can take it.

GG: *sigh*
GG: I suppose I was a trifle obvious, wasn’t I? Which is part and parcel of the problem, in a way.

TT: Oh?

GG: I couldn’t casually request a friendly conversation without giving away that I’m upset. Chalk up another link in the cascading chain of petty failures that has been my day.
GG: Ugh.

TT: Ah.
TT: One of those days.
TT: I feel you.
TT: Do you want to enumerate the slings and arrows or just change the subject completely? I’m game either way.

GG: There’s nothing much to enumerate, objectively speaking.
GG: I slipped in the shower and cut my elbow on a faucet, the garbage bag broke as I was carrying it outside to the trash can, I accidentally insulted the mail carrier when I tried to wish her a nice afternoon, I dropped my vial of vanilla extract while mixing cookie dough and it shattered, etcetera, etcetera.
GG: And to top it off, I’ve apparently interrupted you in the middle of a programming session which you are kindly not mentioning.
GG: I just.
GG: Do you ever feel like all your choices are wrong, your life is pointless, and the universe itself is tired of your existence?

TT: …
TT: I can’t say that feeling sounds totally unfamiliar.
TT: I can say that it is, in your case, objectively false.
TT: For instance, you didn’t interrupt a programming session.
TT: Full disclosure: you happened to pester me right as I tripped on a tangle of cords and disconnected my entire apartment from the fucking internet.
TT: It was the crowning pratfall on a tower of idiocy that began with accidentally dumping Fanta all over my pants at breakfast because I forgot I’d opened the can before stashing it in my sylladex last night.

GG: Oh dear.

TT: You could say I’ve been having one of those days myself.

GG: We should found a club.
GG: Ridiculous failures of the earth, unite!
GG: You have nothing to lose but your last remaining scraps of dignity and the pretense of being a competent human!

TT: Hot damn, I’m in.
TT: You’re president.

GG: Naturally. And treasurer.
GG: Also secretary.
GG: Actually I will be the entire board of directors.
GG: You can be the shadowy power behind the throne. :B

TT: Nah, I call dibs on security guard at our inevitably disastrous convention.
TT: I’ll reprise my amazing ability to trip on air and stab myself with my own sword.
TT: Abracadabra, instant laughingstock.

GG: Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll walk into a conveniently placed glass door before anyone has a chance to so much as snicker at you.

TT: Thank fuck for small favors.

GG: Yes, we can bleed to death in embarrassed solidarity.

TT: You’d better not just be saying that, Crocker. Mutual death-from-humiliation pacts are serious business.
TT: Pinky swear?

GG: Cross my heart.

TT: Awesome. And we’re already hoping to die; A-plus for efficiency.
TT: Let’s hold off on the needle part, though. I’m not feeling very optimistic about our chances of survival until the pact date if we start messing around with one of those.

GG: A wise and judicious decision, indeed.
GG: Oh gosh.
GG: Would you look at that!
GG: It seems we’ve broken your streak of misfortune and idiocy!

TT: …
TT: Well fuck.
TT: Does that mean you’re gonna kick me out of the ridiculous losers club?
TT: Is our mutual embarrassment pact stillborn?

GG: Oh, Dirk.
GG: My sweet summer child.
GG: Have you learned nothing from your brother? Embarrassment is FOREVER.

TT: Phew.
TT: I’d hate to abandon you right after our touching moment of solidarity.
TT: Also, it seems you’ve successfully cheered me up after a shitty day, which – call me crazy – presumably means we’ve broken your bad luck marathon as well.

GG: …
GG: Well I’ll be. So we did.

TT: Looks like friendship really is magic.

GG: *narrows eyes*

TT: *blinks innocently*

GG: :B
GG: Thanks for being a pal.

TT: Hey. What else are bros for?
TT: And on that note, I’m gonna execute a subtle and graceful conversational segue into telling you my bro’s in Houston this week and it’s about dinnertime here in Texas.
TT: I’m sure you can deduce the implications.
TT: You ok till tomorrow or should I check back in a couple hours?

GG: I’ll be fine. You go enjoy your brotherly bonding. I know you don’t get to spend nearly as much time with him as you’d like.
GG: Until tomorrow, Di-Stri.
GG: *bunp*

TT: *bunp* 

– timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] –


Wow, it’s been a while since I wrote a pesterlog! I think the character voices are slightly off, but eh. I’ll do another editing pass before I stick this up on AO3.

runespoor7  asked:

Prompt: Rose + Dirk, Open, making Dave very nervous and Roxy very why-is-everything-always-so-wonderful.

As you can see, Roxy stole POV rights before I could decide whether to give them to either Rose or Dirk, and she was so enthusiastic I didn’t have the heart to take them away from her. *wry* (875 words)

Truth or Dare

“I still say this is an idea so bad the English language recoils in horror at attempting to describe it,” Dave said as he sat cross-legged on the far corner of Rose and Kanaya’s decadently oversized bed. “Also, the internet informs me this is usually a drinking game, which clearly isn’t happening in this instance, so what fresh new horror have you guys come up with to use as a penalty?" 

Roxy beamed at her ecto-son through the fringe of the afghan she’d wrapped around herself like a shawl. "Me and Rosie thought very hard about that! We settled on vinegar shots. And not, like, fancy sweet vinegar you use in salad dressing – nah, we’re gonna use the cheap shit you buy to clean limescale out of teakettles or whatever." 

Not that she thought they’d be using much of it. Her ecto-family was pretty competitive, after all, and if anybody (*cough* Rose and Dirk *cough*) got too caught up in winning instead of having fun, Roxy knew for sure she could guilt Dirk into cutting that right the hell out and she was fairly sure Dave had enough ammunition on Rose to yank her back if necessary. 

Or she could just make sure those two kept choosing each other as targets. Dave might spontaneously combust from secondhand embarrassment listening to them, but Roxy intended to take full advantage of their tendency to use excessive openness as a weapon. The best part? They’d never even notice her egging them on. 

Mwahaha, hers was an evil laugh! 

"So you’re breaking out the technically edible equivalent of acetone. Sounds delicious,” Dirk said as he adjusted a pillow to aid his artful slouch against the headboard. 

“And suspicious,” Dave added, matching his expression to his words. “You grew up in post-apocalyptic nowhere. The hell do you know about salad dressing and teakettles?" 

"To quote you back at yourself, the internet informed me. Duh,” Roxy said. “And to forestall your next question, obviously we’re not settling up open bottles and shot glasses on Rose’s schmancy bedspread. I’ll just un-nothing them as needed." 

She grinned wider and did jazz-hands by way of undemonstration. 

On her left, Rose sighed with an artfully overdone air of longsuffering woe. "I assure you, Kanaya and I are very grateful for your consideration. And now, with the requisite complaints out of the way, may we proceed to the meat of the endeavor?" 

"I don’t see anyone stopping you,” Dirk said, because he was a snarky assbutt. 

Rose pulled a green yarn ball out of her nightstand and beaned Dirk in the forehead. “The rules are as follows: the interlocutor chooses a target, who must then choose truth or dare. If the target refuses the assigned question or challenge, they must drink a shot of vinegar. Anyone who vomits on my bed will suffer hideous and creative vengeance at a later date. Anyone who lies (and is discovered in that lie) has to tell the Mayor and the Parcel Mistress what they did and marinate in the resulting guilt and shame." 

"Harsh,” Dirk said. 

“That was my idea,” Roxy told him. 

If I may continue?” Rose said, snagging her yarn ball from the bedspread where it had rebounded, and tossing it pointedly between her hands. “Thank you. Once a round is complete, the target becomes the interlocutor and we begin again. The game continues until–" 

”–five o'clock at the latest because I have to get ready for my dinner date with Karkat and Jade,“ Dave interrupted. "Which gives us two hours. I’m sure that’s more than enough time for you three to make me retroactively regret my entire existence." 

Dirk and Rose turned to stare at each other across the pile of pillows. Rose raised her eyebrows. He raised his back. They turned in synchrony toward Dave. 

"Are you sure you want to make that a challenge, bro?” Dirk said. 

Roxy pulled another yarn ball into reality (sunset multicolored, because reasons) and tossed it (gently! …ish) at Dirk’s nose. “C'mon, don’t make this all weird before we even start. The point’s to get comfy with each other like actual family, not to do breaking point stress-tests. That goes for you too,” she added, reaching sideways to flick Rose’s shoulder. 

“I think you have an implausibly idealized notion of what family entails,” Rose said after a moment. “But fine. We’ll aim for harmless embarrassment rather than anything truly uncomfortable." 

"So generous,” Dave said, slouching further. “So who’s up first, you or Roxy?" 

"Me,” Roxy said brightly. “And I pick Dirk. So. Bearing in mind that I know aaaallllllllll your deepest darkest secrets and I’m not afraid to share them: truth or dare?" 

Please pick dare, please pick dare, please pick dare… 

He didn’t even hesitate. "Truth." 

Drat and botheration. But that was all right; Roxy had backup plans. "All right, Mister Strider! Please tell me, leaving no detail unexamined, exactly how sexual your interest in horses actually is." 

Sooner or later someone would pick dare and she’d get them all into a long-overdue group hug. For now, the expressions on her family’s faces as her words sank in were hilarious enough to store in memory forever. 

(Hey, she never said she wasn’t a competitive assbutt herself. Mwahahahaha!)


Bingo again! \o/