2013-09-02 19:46
fearofpiggies
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It had been a few days of radio silence on Dib's end. His house's AI picked up the IMs he missed with 'Dib's not home, pal. He's off doing that dumb deep research thing he does. If he dies, I'll let you know' and that was the end of it.
And Eddie was right. He was doing that dumb deep research thing he did. In fact, he had been in an abandoned amusement park that had been built on top of an old factory site that had lots of fucked up deaths attributed to both places, and even more fucked up hauntings. It didn't help that some freaky cult of demon worshipers had been using the abandoned haunted house attraction as a meeting place and had been doing rituals there for years, thus inviting in literally every dark presence in the immediate area of the site. It was basically the only time Dib could be talked into going to an amusement park without getting him grousing.
When he returned home after three days of extensive research and recording of phenomena, Dib was exhausted, but satisfied with the results he'd gotten. His first order of business was to take a long shower to wash off the dried ectoplasm that had gotten on him, as well as the three-day stink of someone who slept in his car instead of getting a hotel room. He didn't bother brushing his hair back or shaving, because he'd be going straight to sleep after winding down from an adventurous weekend. Once he stepped out of the bathroom, he made his way out to the living room, sprawling out on his sofa to see what he'd missed on his social networks.
Not much, it seemed. He didn't keep a very long list of contacts; the few that he kept were in alternate dimensions, or in the vague shadow agency of the Swollen Eyeball Network.
Do you never sleep? He wrote to Sollux, having seen him actively online practically every hour of the day, over the course of about a month.
And Eddie was right. He was doing that dumb deep research thing he did. In fact, he had been in an abandoned amusement park that had been built on top of an old factory site that had lots of fucked up deaths attributed to both places, and even more fucked up hauntings. It didn't help that some freaky cult of demon worshipers had been using the abandoned haunted house attraction as a meeting place and had been doing rituals there for years, thus inviting in literally every dark presence in the immediate area of the site. It was basically the only time Dib could be talked into going to an amusement park without getting him grousing.
When he returned home after three days of extensive research and recording of phenomena, Dib was exhausted, but satisfied with the results he'd gotten. His first order of business was to take a long shower to wash off the dried ectoplasm that had gotten on him, as well as the three-day stink of someone who slept in his car instead of getting a hotel room. He didn't bother brushing his hair back or shaving, because he'd be going straight to sleep after winding down from an adventurous weekend. Once he stepped out of the bathroom, he made his way out to the living room, sprawling out on his sofa to see what he'd missed on his social networks.
Not much, it seemed. He didn't keep a very long list of contacts; the few that he kept were in alternate dimensions, or in the vague shadow agency of the Swollen Eyeball Network.
Do you never sleep? He wrote to Sollux, having seen him actively online practically every hour of the day, over the course of about a month.
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"Any chance I can talk you into playing again?"
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