|needs more desu. (mootles) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2013-03-03 23:45:00
|Entry tags:||4chan, sloth|
who: 4chan and Sloth!
what: Pot times, and sin times, and probably a myriad of bad ideas.
where: Sloth's place, I'm guessing.
when: saturday afternoonish?
warnings: 4chan, drugs, 4chan and drugs and Sins. These are all bad things.
4chan hadn't used the word boyfriend since his inception, despite the number of times his sexuality had been redefined and questioned and generally fucked around with. He wasn't gay, he wasn't straight, he wasn't bi, or poly or anything, he'd thought. He was just 4chan. And 4chan, for whatever reason, had settled on trying out boyfriends.
After a long talk with moot, who'd asked what his little image board god had in mind for the rest of his life, he'd brought up the concept of boyfriends and girlfriends, mainly asking if David had ever had one and if he wanted to get one anytime soon. The answer was a resounding yes. Of course. Once he figured out what to do with one.
Or how to get one.
Or what it was.
After several more hours of emails, David had finally settled on the idea that a boyfriend or girlfriend was someone that you saw- regularly, and not just for sex. General pleasantries were involved, and people had to agree to be boyfriend and girlfriend. Or, in 4chan's case. Boyfriend and boyfriend. He wasn't sure what had prompted that train of thought, exactly, but since then, he'd been in a perpetual state of questioning. He'd thought about having someone to visit regularly, and having someone to wake up next to, and he felt like it was only suitable that that person- should be a boy.
Sloth, on the other hand, was not really supposed to be a boyfriend, though Greed had used that word. He was just some guy to smoke a baggie with and maybe have a nice little relaxing afternoon with. After all, how stressful could some guy called Sloth possibly be? He slithered himself into a warm little hoodie that had 'FUCK' printed across the front in broad white lettering, and took off, hair hopelessly askew into his eyes, and a baggie in his pocket.
He knocked on Sloth's door, eventually, and wondered whether he'd even get an answer.