Dirk Strider (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
string_instrument) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thenashira2026-01-11 05:48 pm
string_instrument) wrote in thenashira2026-01-11 05:48 pm
This is a cry for help
Who: Dirk Strider and YOU
What: E-mail on a very important matter
When: Early September, late at night....
Where: Your email inbox
Warnings: Extremely sexual framing for the first couple of paragraphs
[One morning, everyone who actually sleeps will wake up to a mass message from the guy who either says nothing to anyone or......... well, does. This.]
Re: Glitter
It has come to my attention that the assembled knights (that's you) have been engaging in unsafe practises with fetish material, and I'm calling a stop to it. Right now.
I want to preface this with the understanding that I am not a prude. I am not trying to be a joykill, or keep you in the closet, or oppress the freedom of self-expression or pursuit of pleasure in any way. I perhaps better than anyone understand the charge one can get from engaging in openly transgressive art, from crafting oneself into a vision of one's own urges, and--yes--even from taking a little license with boundaries. This new wave of scintillating exhibitionism and its associated expression of creative impulse must be thrilling for you. But enough is enough.
The mass indulgence that's sweeping the city is not only exposing unconsenting parties (that's me) to a violation of common decency, it's smeared every available surface with its glistening leavings and deposited its contaminants into every spare crevice.
I'm going to have to insist on a baseline level of respect for shared spaces.
No. More. Body glitter. In the hideout.
I actually can't believe I even need to say all this, but apparently I do.
And maybe not everyone here is aware, but the glitter doesn't actually stay on YOUR fucking body. It rubs off. It sticks to things. It travels. It is on the couch. On the floor. I find sparkles in my mouth, and on my tongue. It's in my hair. On my fabrics, and in my animatronics, which--by the way--are full of extremely delicate electronic parts. Shit, Nautis is literally a computer. Did you ever ask how she feels about all this? Is this glitter space computer safe? Do you want to risk that?
And even if you don't care about that (at which point I can only assume you're some kind of borderline sociopath. The entire premise of a civilised society relies on the mutual regard of individuals for service to the community and each other. Are we not Nova Knights? Should we not all be--if not better than--at least on the level of the lowest bar of good values and cooperative behaviour? And if not, what right do we have to represent the forces of so-called good in the battle against the Harbingers?), then at least think of Contra. I have had to wipe glitter off his literal eye twice in the past hour. That's downright inhumane.
I am on my goddamn knees here. I'm begging you. All of you. To stop with the body glitter and take a shower, or maybe five, before you come into the hideout and get your goddamn craft chlamydia in any more places, speakable or otherwise.
Okay? Are we cool? Great. Good talk. I'm out.
Nova Pastos
(co-signed by Nova Contra)
What: E-mail on a very important matter
When: Early September, late at night....
Where: Your email inbox
Warnings: Extremely sexual framing for the first couple of paragraphs
[One morning, everyone who actually sleeps will wake up to a mass message from the guy who either says nothing to anyone or......... well, does. This.]
Re: Glitter
It has come to my attention that the assembled knights (that's you) have been engaging in unsafe practises with fetish material, and I'm calling a stop to it. Right now.
I want to preface this with the understanding that I am not a prude. I am not trying to be a joykill, or keep you in the closet, or oppress the freedom of self-expression or pursuit of pleasure in any way. I perhaps better than anyone understand the charge one can get from engaging in openly transgressive art, from crafting oneself into a vision of one's own urges, and--yes--even from taking a little license with boundaries. This new wave of scintillating exhibitionism and its associated expression of creative impulse must be thrilling for you. But enough is enough.
The mass indulgence that's sweeping the city is not only exposing unconsenting parties (that's me) to a violation of common decency, it's smeared every available surface with its glistening leavings and deposited its contaminants into every spare crevice.
I'm going to have to insist on a baseline level of respect for shared spaces.
No. More. Body glitter. In the hideout.
I actually can't believe I even need to say all this, but apparently I do.
And maybe not everyone here is aware, but the glitter doesn't actually stay on YOUR fucking body. It rubs off. It sticks to things. It travels. It is on the couch. On the floor. I find sparkles in my mouth, and on my tongue. It's in my hair. On my fabrics, and in my animatronics, which--by the way--are full of extremely delicate electronic parts. Shit, Nautis is literally a computer. Did you ever ask how she feels about all this? Is this glitter space computer safe? Do you want to risk that?
And even if you don't care about that (at which point I can only assume you're some kind of borderline sociopath. The entire premise of a civilised society relies on the mutual regard of individuals for service to the community and each other. Are we not Nova Knights? Should we not all be--if not better than--at least on the level of the lowest bar of good values and cooperative behaviour? And if not, what right do we have to represent the forces of so-called good in the battle against the Harbingers?), then at least think of Contra. I have had to wipe glitter off his literal eye twice in the past hour. That's downright inhumane.
I am on my goddamn knees here. I'm begging you. All of you. To stop with the body glitter and take a shower, or maybe five, before you come into the hideout and get your goddamn craft chlamydia in any more places, speakable or otherwise.
Okay? Are we cool? Great. Good talk. I'm out.
Nova Pastos
(co-signed by Nova Contra)
no subject
What do you need?
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[That's never happened before. Ever. In his life.]
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please reimburse me sooner rather than later.
[She's been mostly cash for ages. That's the problem with getting smuggled in, you know?]
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Sure thing. Just tell me how much it is, and I'll e-pay or cash, whatever you want. I'll even tip.
[Dirk Strider has N99 problems but money isn't one of them.]
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[Thankfully, she has enough padding in her pay packet for this, and odd jobs aren't exactly something she's unfamiliar with. Doing It Yourself is pretty much the motto of her family.]
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[He's full of energy and eager to get this started, so yes, he's just going to fucking guess at how much cash is needed--if he's wrong he can get more.
And yes--by the time Neos shows up, he's already waiting impatiently at the entrance.]
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[Tetrising that shit into proper place must have taken quite some time, regardless of how fast she got here.]
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Of course, these days he also moves faster than the human eye, so in addition to free running his way across Chalra's rooftops and over its fences and through its alleys, he's literally several magnitudes faster than a bike, and significantly less hampered by gravity, traffic, road planning, and rights-of-way.
....he probably could not have done this while toting everything Neos is, however. At least not without needing several trips. At which point the question of whether Nova Pastos ever gets tired (without a week in the Abyss) would have been seriously tested.
He acknowledges none of this, though.
In fact, the first word out of his mouth when she arrives is this:]
Finally.