"Yeah, now you're getting it." Which is... a relief. Not a very big one, admittedly. He can feel something is off. Something ihe way Ranboo is repeating what he says. Like understanding what Dirk is saying is somehow an incomprehensible act in itself. It's a relief because Ranboo is getting it, and he's having a smaller reaction than Dirk was expecting, but that reaction could get bigger. Fast. He's seen it happen already. After the way Ranboo flipped out before leaving, when he left... he just fucking knew this information would become a whole Thing.
But that's why he has to keep talking. He has to stop Ranboo before they start drawing weird conclusions without his input. Before they jump to the conclusion that he's a victim. He is, on paper. Technically, it's true. But it's just not that simple. And he has to make sure they really get that, or...
(Or, or, or. It's an 'or' he doesn't even want to think about. An 'or' that really, actually does scare him.)
"And I'm not saying I liked it all the time. I didn't, always. But this is me we're talking about. And there's something wrong with me. So I fought sometimes. Some of it hurt. A lot. Some of it could have killed me. They could have killed me, there was a lot of that. They taught me to fight, and when to fight. When not to, how not to. They did some nasty shit, got me into some of that nasty shit. More than some of it. Remember how we got on this subject? About how I know what gets me hard? About knowing how I like it? And the fact that I know how I like it?"
As he talks, he alternates between speaking and making eye contact, then breaking off to speak more. He can make eye contact with Ranboo or he can think and talk, but he can't do both. Not about this.
Now, though, he locks eyes with him, because now he can again. And because--he needs to.
"They took a kid anyone else would have messed up anyway and made sure I'd make it as a man. And they made damn sure I wanted it."
That's the thing, isn't it? He wanted it. Not always, but they taught him to want it. To crave it. And before that, and even after, or during, he could have quit over it. He could have opted out at any time. But he wanted it more. To prove himself. To persevere, to endure, and to become. Not to quit on the only people who mattered, the only people he could trust. Not to quit on himself. And he wanted it. That love. That aspirational becoming. If anything, he only feels cheated by what he didn't get. What he couldn't have, what they couldn't achieve for him because even black market surgery didn't have what he really needs.
So maybe it was insane, and maybe it was twisted, and maybe it was wrong, and maybe it made him insane and twisted and wrong. But maybe he was always meant to be this way. Really, there was no other way for him to be. If not through this, then some other way. There's a tug on the corner of Dirk's mouth. Not downwards. A crooked half-smile pulling the corner of his mouth, pulling his normally stoic features into something expressive. It's not a nice look to wear, in this moment.
"At the end of the day it's just where I got some of the sick fetish material I'd be jerking it to if I had the opportunities."
no subject
But that's why he has to keep talking. He has to stop Ranboo before they start drawing weird conclusions without his input. Before they jump to the conclusion that he's a victim. He is, on paper. Technically, it's true. But it's just not that simple. And he has to make sure they really get that, or...
(Or, or, or. It's an 'or' he doesn't even want to think about. An 'or' that really, actually does scare him.)
"And I'm not saying I liked it all the time. I didn't, always. But this is me we're talking about. And there's something wrong with me. So I fought sometimes. Some of it hurt. A lot. Some of it could have killed me. They could have killed me, there was a lot of that. They taught me to fight, and when to fight. When not to, how not to. They did some nasty shit, got me into some of that nasty shit. More than some of it. Remember how we got on this subject? About how I know what gets me hard? About knowing how I like it? And the fact that I know how I like it?"
As he talks, he alternates between speaking and making eye contact, then breaking off to speak more. He can make eye contact with Ranboo or he can think and talk, but he can't do both. Not about this.
Now, though, he locks eyes with him, because now he can again. And because--he needs to.
"They took a kid anyone else would have messed up anyway and made sure I'd make it as a man. And they made damn sure I wanted it."
That's the thing, isn't it? He wanted it. Not always, but they taught him to want it. To crave it. And before that, and even after, or during, he could have quit over it. He could have opted out at any time. But he wanted it more. To prove himself. To persevere, to endure, and to become. Not to quit on the only people who mattered, the only people he could trust. Not to quit on himself. And he wanted it. That love. That aspirational becoming. If anything, he only feels cheated by what he didn't get. What he couldn't have, what they couldn't achieve for him because even black market surgery didn't have what he really needs.
So maybe it was insane, and maybe it was twisted, and maybe it was wrong, and maybe it made him insane and twisted and wrong. But maybe he was always meant to be this way. Really, there was no other way for him to be. If not through this, then some other way. There's a tug on the corner of Dirk's mouth. Not downwards. A crooked half-smile pulling the corner of his mouth, pulling his normally stoic features into something expressive. It's not a nice look to wear, in this moment.
"At the end of the day it's just where I got some of the sick fetish material I'd be jerking it to if I had the opportunities."