dear_mun | Whaaat am I doooing

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Whaaat am I doooing

...well, yeah, I'm going to make you barf. He-llloooo, that's sort of, like, my job?

I mean, it's not my first choice of how to do things, but if you're going to risk your body with stick things like boogers and broccoli, you will thank me in the long run that I hit that button. And it's not like I'm yours in the first place. I need to go to Riley and make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. Like wear polka dots. How is she supposed to hang out with he popular kids if she wears polka dots?

Yeah, I thought so.

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What are polka dots? [This person is... well no one is green like that so please excuse Furiosa if she keeps her distance and just stares distrustfully at Disgust.]

As far as you know, you're better off not asking-

[And then she just... stares. And is glad for the distance. At present she is cringing like Fear is at the sight of clowns.]

Oh.

Oh wow.

What... what happened to you? You look... and smell... like a cat that got puked on by an elephant before being used as a scrubbing pad to the wash up a bus. A bus full of people who have forgotten what bathing meant.

Are...

...um... [Holding back that green-in-the-gills desire to vomit. This is so haard...]

...are you okay?

[It's ok, Furiosa understands that having a care can be hard. It really is, people just don't know.]

Been a bit busy avoiding dying to worry too much about smell.

...Was going to ask the same of you. People aren't usually... green where I'm from.

...ugh... now I know what it looks like when Anger and Fear run the place.

[See also, it's not pretty.]

Look, I'm not really one for going by the book in this kind of thing, so let's just say that I'm Disgust and you're going to continue to be confused by what that means.

Are you going to take a shower or not?

[Hahaha no see, Anger is 100% in charge here, have fun with that.]

What's a shower? [Sorry Disgust, when water is at a premium you don't get showers or baths. Have fun with that because Furiosa is actually not nearly as bad as some folk are where she comes from.]

That...

[UGH. UGH EW. UGH... TAKING A LARGE SIDESTEP AWAY BECAUSE WHYYYYYYYYYY.]

...how do you keep yourself clean? Do you keep yourself clean????

Sun baths. Sand. Sweat lodge when it's empty.

[Really, she's kinda bemused at the response this is all getting because wow, really?]

I'm... not touching the whole bathroom experience. Or you, for that matter.

[Not touching, but thinking about it. In fact. She's... yeah, she can't hold it. She's going to run off somewhere to... well... live up to her journal title.]

[Furiosa would apologize if she realized that this was an issue? But she doesn't so... sucks to be you, lady.

Does this mean she wins?]

[Don't worry. She'll be back. Ah. There she is. She's just... a good thirty feet away.]

Hey. I have another question for you.

[At least she isn't dying? She might feel a bit guilty if she accidentally killed the weird green girl.]

I'm listening. [Really this should be good.]

Like, what's wrong with you?

...Says the weird green girl naming herself after an emotion.

Gonna have to be a bit more specific. [Aka: She is a hot goddamn mess and she knows it.]

Look, you're not my person and I'm pretty okay with that because I'd be going crazy in there, but still.

I'm not getting any shame or worry from you, like, at all. You're totally okay with the fact that you basically haven't properly cleaned yourself since forever, and are probably covered in more filth and disease than a public toilet. So, either you're ignorant to just how disgusting that all is, or you're Disgust is so suppressed that it's pretty much bound and gagged in your psyche somewhere.

Either way, it's not normal, and even though you're totally not my business, I have to wonder what's going on.

[Meddling is sort of her way of caring, after all.]

[Fuck, actual concern, snarky tone or not. That makes it hard just to asshole back at her because how often to people actually care about each other anymore?]

Long story short, post-apocalyptic desert wasteland with extremely limited water. Trust me when I say I'm better off in the cleanliness and disease department than 90% of others.

[The Warboys were nicknaming their tumors. Like legitimately nicknaming them.]

[She's a bitch. But she's a caring bitch, okay.]

Post-a-what?

Apocalyptic. Basically the end of the world.

Or near enough anyways. It's all desert now, so who knows how long anyone's really going to survive.

Huh.

...

Yeah, that sounds really terrible.

[She's trying. Except not really.]

Pretty much.

[Not like bawling about it would change anything right?]

[Sadness will want to have a few words with you.]

So, are you worried about gross things at all, or... is that part turned off or something?

[A short shrug at the question.]

I'm... aware of things that are gross, but to be honest if I worried about, or avoided everything gross I'd die pretty quickly.

You can die pretty quickly if you don't.

[Hey there have a tall, snappily-dressed shiny robot, Disgust.]

You never know, she could be trying to pull off that retro-50's look.

[The snappily dressed outfit is certainly appreciated. However, she is more concerned with something else about this one: the fact that she's not agreeing with her unconditionally.]

Yeah, the 50s. So it should stay in the 19th century along with Disco shoes and those weird curly hairdos George Washington used to wear.

Fashion cycles pretty regularly, trust me. But if we're all lucky, disco shoes will never make a comeback.

[She's the manifestation of Disgust from an 11-year-old girl. Her knowledge of fashion cycles is pretty much what's trending now.]

Yeah, seriously. There are of course a lot of other things that should never come back either.

...

But I guess polka dots were okay... once.

[When Riley was 6.]

Like velour tracksuits or corduroy flares.

If you're the first person to wear it before it hits your area that means you get to be the trendsetter, right? That's how I remember it going anyways.

[And to those she'll take them into a "look into it and make up my own mind on them"]

And how old are you? A million?

[That just gets a chuckle from him, brows lifting slightly.]

Not quite. 116 years old more like it.

Hey, I was close enough.

Also, look, don't tell anybody I said this, but you actually have pretty good taste.

[And who would he tell?]

I've heard worse guesses. [No he hasn't, but hey, no skin off his nose if she mussed up the estimate. He doesn't even have skin.]

I'd never break confidence. But thank you.

[Technically, neither does she.]

So like, not that I especially care, but what's your story?

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Whaaat am I doooing

I'm sorry

oh lawd 1/2

2/2

Hahaha

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Poor Disgust, she tries so hard.

She doooes and nobody listens. Nobody listens and it's hard.

It's so hard being Disgust.

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