victory_road | 8 ∅ [Text/Action for Ecruteak Inn]

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8 ∅ [Text/Action for Ecruteak Inn]

[TEXT:]

currently taking your hottest exorcism tips
the top five submissions get a prize
the prize is whatever i get out of these boxes of abra jacks and if thats not your idea of a good time im sorry because theyre all i got stashed in this closet atm

if this is punishment for cultural appropriation at the festival im gomen
but can we maybe stop
onegai shimass

[ACTION FOR ECRUTEAK:]

[The great (???) thing about the ghost currently haunting Dave is that, for the most part, it stays out of sight, meaning that with everyone else distracted by their own phantasms, Dave managed to spend the whole day yesterday blatantly not acknowledging it, only twitching at its constant presence at the edge of his awareness. But after no sleep the entire night--negative sleep, probably, it's possible he will never sleep again, fuck every molecule of his being--he's just grabbed some foodstuffs, marched into the inn room closet, and settled in with his eyes shut, hugging the cereal boxes to his chest.

At least he can pretend Bro's not there, in the dark.]

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[Dave's glad Dirk can't see him, because he flinches at the familiarity of Dirk's voice after a day of waiting for the ghost to actually say something to him. Ugh. Dirk doesn't deserve that.]

I'd offer to let you do it yourself, but, well.

[Incorporeal ghosts don't make for a satisfying face-punching experience.

Speak of the devil, Bro's ghost deigns to appear for real before Dirk, apparently. Hoo...ray? He leans against the wall with his arms crossed, staring at his younger self impassively.

Dave shifts in the closet.]

You don't have to stick around here, you know. He's not doing anything.

Right.

[ If that ghost was punchable, he thinks he definitely would have hit himself. Not for the collar though. That's just a minor nitpick on a long list of reasons to dislike this version.

It seems he's going to stick around long enough to get more than a glimpse now too. This is a real staredown of shades now. Dirk sits a bit straighter, looking at the ghost with a cool gaze and taking in every little difference he can note. Maybe if they're different enough on the surface then...

Age, is obvious. The musculature is off, Bro's broader. Taller. Paler. The myriad of freckles Dirk's accumulated either missing or not dark enough to notice from this distance on him. Poorer posture. The fact that he can pull off a fucking hat...

Like looking in a fractured mirror. It's wrong but it's still him. ]

I know. But he doesn't have to do anything. [ Just being there is clearly enough or Dave wouldn't be locked in a closet ]

[Frankly, the Gastly currently known as Bro is confused as shit, because Dirk looks like the guy he's supposed to be being, but...that guy is dead? He thinks?? What is this madness. He masks it by being as completely chill and motionless as possible. He should look into getting shades like this for his regular life, he thinks.

Dave lets out a breath that's a little too harsh to be a sigh.]

Point, I guess.

[He's quiet for a little while, then he adds:]

I guess after a certain point, he never really actually had to do anything.

[Whoa, wait, this is progress. Bro turns to the closet, ready for Dave to get that gross mess off his chest so he can move on to more exciting things, like flirting with all the cute Yamask around. But then Dave says,]

Fuck, though, I don't really want to talk about it.

[Dammit. Bro goes back to watching Dirk, not a twitch of emotion on his face.]

[ Bro is just being still and unreadable, thinking probably. Is that what he looks like when he does? He could try to convince the ghost to leave Dave alone and have a heart to heart or something. Switch from stalking him to stalking himself and they can call each-other disappointments from their respective point-of-views.

But he knows he wouldn't go for that. And that's him. So he doesn't try.

Dirk turns his head towards the closet, keeping the ghost in his peripheral. He thinks of Dave, the other Dave, with his strained expression and hands waving as he describes the man currently across the room. And how he held on to him after and then they laughed themselves to tears going back and forth about their respective guardian figures.

ok actually maybe i will get into it ]

I'll listen if you do.

[ "I'll" as in "Myself and I" as in "We'll" as in "Bro and I." Splinters. Fucking splinters all the way down. He has no idea what Bro wants from Dave but he's clearly here for something the same way John's and Jane's Dads are there for something. Unfinished business, right?

Dave might as well get to chew him the fuck out before he gets it. ]

I don't.

[He bites it out, immediately hates himself for it. Dirk doesn't deserve this. Dirk is cool.

Dirk's younger. Looks up to him.

Dave scrabbles for purchase on whatever kind of calm he can, eyes shut tight in the darkness, curled up under his makeshift fort.]

I--

[He doesn't have words, is the thing, for what Bro's presence, however it came to be here, is doing to him. To have his teeth on edge, nerves singing, heart in his mouth all the time, sensing the back of every room he enters because something's gonna fly at him, any second now--how does he express that in something as clumsy and limited as speech?

He and Bro never really talked in words--not unless the clang and parry of swords is a language. Dave buries his face in his arms and tries not to sound as strung-out and desperate as he feels.]

I just don't get what he wants. If it's a fight, he should just--get it over with already, Jesus. Not like I can arm myself, so if he's waiting for me to gear up for the roof, he's shit out of luck.

[ Dave's waiting for the ghost to attack him. Because that's the best method of training someone right? Jumping out at them? Brobot and Bro have a lot in common, huh?

The worst part of that is he can't even be sure if Bro was training Dave all the time or just wanted to improve his own skills. Or just trying to blow off steam at any form of frustration he might have had. He can see it going either way. He was a child. ]

I don't think that's it. [ There were plenty of changes to attack Dave. Plenty of openings. He would've took a swing at him by now. And the roof isn't nearly high or flat enough to provide a good strife ground. Dave's point about the lack of weapons also factors in, not that it would stop him. Hand to hand is always a possibility or a stuffed toy. It's probably fucked up he can reason that out. ]

...What do you think it is, then.

[Because he can't, anymore. He can't keep running, can't keep ignoring it, but trying to think it through is like driving rusty gears into motion: all creaking, groaning, shuddering slowness, more noise than progress. He hugs his knees tighter, but lifts his head, looking at Dirk's shadow under the door.]

What would you want. If it were you.

[Tacit acknowledgement, there, of what Dirk and Bro are to one another. Of what Dirk might be to Dave, in part, despite Dave's insistence on keeping them separate.

At least there's that much.]

[ If it were you. Something about that twists his insides and makes him feel a little sick at first before solemn acceptance of what he's already been saying to himself. It's a brief very subtle acknowledgement. Dave's usually been incredibly adamant that they're different. They are but they're not.

And putting himself in that man's shoes to try and guess should be a lot harder if they weren't.

Because Bro wanted Dave to be strong. Wasn't that the point? But somewhere along the line he pushed too hard and went too far and used methods no one should have used. One's Dirk used himself on Jake once. Yeah. It's not too hard to figure out what he'd want there. ]

I think I'd want you stop hiding and tell me off.

[Dave opens his mouth but closes it without speaking.

That could be it, couldn't it? All the mind games, all the beatdowns, they would've stopped if he'd said something, he keeps telling himself that. And whether or not that was what Bro wanted back then--if maybe he really was invested in the "ironic" training, if he didn't realize how fucked up that was, if he realized and didn't care--maybe that's what he wants now?

The thought of opening that door and saying--fuck, anything to Bro's face is terrifying, chilling and sickening all the way down to his guts. But still...but still...]

You should probably step outside a sec, then.

[Dave swallows and smacks both his hands to his face, rubs his cheeks to try to prepare himself.]

You don't need to hear this.

Yeah.

[ Dirk looks ahead at the mirror image of his own pointy shades, a funhouse mirror version of himself wearing them. Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet and takes a step out of the way.

Away from in front of the door, from being another barrier between Dave and him. He doesn't know if he agrees with the assessment that he doesn't need to hear this. At least at first. He wants to stick around in the room for various reasons. Support. Someone to pull him into an escape route if they need to abscond the fuck out of this plan. A push forward. Someone to say 'OH SNAP' at a thoroughly impressive diss. But he's not even needed in a supportive role here. Dave's stronger than he is.

And any of the other reasons are so fucking selfish, he thinks. Like wanting to hear Dave just rip himself a new one as a representative of every past and future wrongdoing.

Dave probably can't get what he needs to get out with him standing right there. He'll go wait in the hall. ]

Don't hold back.

[Dave doesn't even open the door until he hears Dirk leave. When he does abandon his Closet of Solitude, it's with his hands fisted and steady at his sides, feet planted wide, shoulder turned to present a smaller target; something close to a fighting stance.

Ghost Bro takes his stand immediately, flickering away from his comfortable leaning spot to occupy a space not two feet from Dave's nose. A challenge. Dave tenses but doesn't blink. His sunglasses are tucked into the collar of his shirt.]

Hey.

[Ghost Bro doesn't move. Dave waits for him motionlessly as the seconds stretch out, then releases an annoyed hiss through his teeth and looks away.]

Right. I don't know why I'm bothering with this. It's not gonna do anything, you're not--it's not like you'd care. If that's even you, which it probably isn't.

[At that, Dave looks up. Bro remains impassive. Dave lowers his chin without dropping his gaze, like a Tauros readying to lock horns. Defensive. Standing his ground.]

The real you wouldn't have stuck around this long. Not without something to entertain you.

[Low, bitter. He grits his teeth and almost ducks away, but how long--how much have Karkat and Ashley been helping him with this, how deep does he have to dig into his own chest before all of this comes up and out? When can he get rid of all this trash inside him? Dave takes a deep breath.]

Was that all it was to you, man? A fucking game? One you could put down once it got boring, or play all wrong in order to--to win some shitty "achievements," like making it harder for no reason but the challenge does any good in real life, like, at all? Was that what I was to you?

[His voice is still too low to be heard outside the room, but he stops himself anyway, keeps it at a low hiss. Dirk is out there.]

Because, for me? It wasn't fun. It wasn't fucking fun at all, you piece of shit, I felt like a cheap throwaway toy my whole life and I died like that. Thinking I was fuckin' dispensable.

[And it hurt, every time. It never got easier after the first one; metal punching through his flesh and rearranging the molecules so they didn't make him anymore, just meat and blood and fragments of bone, dead things taken out of time. He wakes up some nights still choking on the memory of his lungs collapsing, of his own blood filling his airways, of huge, important pieces of him shutting down fast.

Dave balls his hands tighter.]

So I don't forgive you. I don't--what the fuck, Bro, what could I have been if I felt safe enough to be anything but what you wanted me to be, to--to stop trying to live up to some stupid, toxic man-bro archetype presented to me by a delusional child who never grew up? What could've happened if... if you took fucking responsibility for my adulthood?

[And, even as he stands there in front of Bro, the anger starts to evaporate, leaving only the bitterness behind. The bitterness and the grief, finally turned inward, expressed aloud.]

But I guess we'll never know, huh.

[Ghost Bro doesn't know what to do. He was not prepared for this, and it doesn't seem like Dave knows what he wants from him, either. There aren't any cues for him to take; all Dave seems to expect is continued silence. Lack of acknowledgement.]

[He has so much he wants to say, and the urge not to say any of it is even more powerful. Emotions he can't put to names, a deep, brutal sense of loss, of betrayal, of having been cheated out of sixteen years of not feeling like that--how does he express that to the silent shadow in front of him, how can Dave even grasp himself the weight of all that nothing where something should have been?

Why does he even want to? Why does he feel like Bro needs to know, what is he looking for from this ghost? Contrition? Indifference? A shred of regret, something to fight, vindication for his anger?

Dave feels like he's going to cry. He laughs weakly and runs a hand back through his hair instead.]

Dirk's Dave must've figured it out earlier. Like. I guess he started talking with Karkat sooner, realized he'd been wrong all that time, started fixing his shit before he could get to the point I did. Despite everything you put us through, he... it sounds like he did a good job with himself.

[He can't make eye contact anymore. He's the oldest, now, he's been in Johto, where it's safe, the longest, and he still can't bring himself to be this vulnerable without pain.

His voice, still low, comes out thick, now, too.]

With the time that I had, did.

[He knows what he wants, from Bro. What he's always wanted from Bro.]

Did... Did I do okay?

[

When Dave comes out of the room, he pads straight after Dirk and, without a word, drapes right over him in a hug.]

Mmmfh mmh, [he says, which could mean anything, but from the way Dave's redefining the word 'cling' as he buries his face in Dirk's shoulder, he doesn't seem inclined to clarify, probably.]

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8 ∅ [Text/Action for Ecruteak Inn]

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1/3 Takes a month to write one tag

2/3

3/4 JKKKK

Okay done