#implied stridercest

hes doin his best t'give you a good show

No, but I would like to eventually since that concept piques my interest.

You are now David Elizabeth Strider. You are waiting patiently as a cat waits for it's dinner for your 19 year old, younger little shit of a brother to get his ass out of bed and fuel his meat-covered skeleton with cereal and orange soda. However, the degenerate has yet to stir from his room. You decide that, against your better judgement, you will go into his room to try and rouse him from his eternal slumber with TRUE LOVE'S KISS ™. Pushing open the door carefully and poking your head in, you see a mop of blonde hair just barely escaping from the bundle of blankets that is your little bro's supposedly sleeping body. You find yourself staring and blink rapidly somewhere between ten or seventy-three times in a row to convince yourself you were not, in fact, thinking what you had happened to be thinking in that precise moment. "Dirk." Your voice sounds surprisingly high pitched for a grown man of 21. "Dirk, it's almost 10, you need to get up." No response. Of course. Because why would he be bothered to answer? You know he's not actually asleep, of course. You two play this little game almost every weekend. He pretends to sleep in (even though you both know he's had insomnia since he was 14), and you pretend to get mad. As if. You know you could never actually stay mad at him, and fuck 'im, the little bastard knows it. You decide to enter the room and sit on his bed. Funny, his breathing seems oddly slow. You decide to investigate further. Pulling back the blankets, you find yourself looking down at the peaceful face of your sleeping younger brother. Holy shit. The proximity begins to get to you and you start to pull back before you start thinking the strange thought again, but his eyelids flutter as you move backwards. "Mmmnhh......bro...?" His voice is heavy with sleep, and it is the most adorable thing in the entire universe. And you mean adorable in a completely normal, entirely platonic way. Because he's your brother. "Bro...ihaddanighmare..." his voice sends shivers down your spine and you unconsciously situate yourself back on the bed, beside him. He's so innocent looking you think your heart is going to melt into your shoes. At this rate, it probably already has. "Really?" Somehow, you find your voice. "What about?" "There...therewassa...there was a man. He was...chasing me. He was really...really fast." He has to halt his speech every few words to take a breath of air into his lungs. You find yourself laying next to him on his twin sized mattress. On top of the covers, of course. You knew he had bad dreams. The sleep-deprived Dirk you knew and saw on a regular basis was a product of social anxiety and fear of night terrors. That's what the doctors had said, and you believed them. Not hard to. But he never shared anything with you about the dreams. He seemed to have had a sense of your interest, however, and was careful to avoid anything that might serve as a gateway topic. The two of you rarely even spoke anymore. "I was running away and..." Dirk's tone shifted slightly, into a more quiet, almost timid register, "you were there..." You blink. Not just because you were staring. Which you most definitely had not been doing. The fact that his almost sleeping face was inches away from yours did not bother you in the slightest. "I was there?" You feel taken aback by this sudden, almost confessed detail. "Yeah," he shifted, burrowing into the blankets and snuggling into the warmth of your chest, "you hugged me and..." he yawned sleepily, "and the bad man disappeared." You decide to take the opportunity and say, "what other kinds of dreams do you have?" Because curiosity never killed anything, let alone the cat. "Scary ones. You're gone and aren't coming back." Now, you are 100% sure your heart has shattered into a million hundred pieces. You wrap your gangly arms around Dirk's blanket-bundled body and pull his as close as you can. "Dirk," you whisper to him, fighting back tears, "I'm not going anywhere."

HERE I GO AGAIN NOBODY CAN STOP ME

BRO: I'm proud of him.