victory_road | In the House of Hades [closed to close CR]

Who: Emet-Selch's household and those who regularly visit
Where: Emet's house!
When: ...backdated to the month of January, just shenanigans during Dirk's recovery so just whenever during January, time's fake
Summary: House of Hades is a busy place, Dirk can't escape every visitor, but neither can Emet.
Rating: Uh pg13 because Dirk has a potty mouth
Log:

Through the month of January Dirk is stuck staying at Emet's place. Not that he doesn't go there pretty regularly anymore, but he certainly can't leave with a broken leg. Well, he could, but it's better for everyone if he doesn't. Emet's glad he's being about as agreeable as Dirk is about anything pertaining to his being helpless, and as much as Dirk might hate this position he's been forced to be in, Emet's not quite as bothered. After all, it's affording them plenty of time together, and time for Hythlodaeus and Dirk to get better acquainted. Something that's sorely needed, but that's not what's important.

Anyway, this means that when people come to visit the home of Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus, they might chance a glimpse of Dirk's cryptid self as well. If they're lucky, they might actually get a word with him. Then again, maybe they'd be lucky to not see him at all. Dirk can be a mixed bag when it comes to interacting with him, after all, and not everyone enjoys cantankerous sourpusses and self appointed killjoys.

At least Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus can make for some decent company while Dirk's tucked away in Emet's bedroom with a bunch of ~~emotional support~~ Ponyta?

(ooc: feel free to make your own top levels, just date when it's happening and we can go from there.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dirk Strider's relationship with time is both predictably exacting (ask him how many days he's spent in the world of Pokemon to date--go on, I dare you) and bafflingly disconnected (didn't we just have Wednesday?)

The latter tends to serve as a smokescreen for the former, and vice versa. Whichever way one assumes Dirk Strider understands time, there's a pretty wide margin of error, and it's well advised you mind the gap.

Or, you can be Dirk and perpetually suffer from time blindness so severe that it's a wonder he's even genetically related to a Time player, let alone responsible for raising one.

At any rate, there's a perfectly justifiable explanation for why Dirk is occupying the living room with Acorn, his back resting against the warm flank of his favourite and most trusted steed. He has his laptop and 'Gear out, his bleach bottle (notably repurposed to contain water) by his side, and is overall doing about as well as he's ever going to while laid up with a broken leg.

The explanation is this: he forgot it was Wednesday.

Wednesdays, of course, being the day that Steven shows up at the house at some point around mid-morning, for lunch with Hythlodaeus (and sometimes Hades), followed with ad hoc therapy sessions with Hythlo while Steven assists him with whatever he's working on in the process. Sometimes, more and more often these days, he brings Thace along for the part of it which involves lunch and conversation.

Usually Dirk is out of the house or in Hades' room during Wednesdays. Usually. But his current location and broken leg means that not only will Steven almost certainly pass by the living room in short order, but Dirk won't be able to make the kind of quick exit he's known for once he hears Steven entering the house, thus making interaction all but unavoidable.

And so it is.

"Oh hey, Dirk," Steven says, sounding pleased to see him for some reason. "Didn't think you'd be out here. Do you want some of Thace's poffins-for-humans? We've still got a lot of them leftover from his contest practice. They're all pretty good, though I'm partial to spicy myself."

Thace is at Steven's side, a container of his treats in one hand and his other resting against the small of Steven's back. He nods in greeting, demeanor pleasant but more reserved. "I'm afraid Vruli has eaten most of the sweet ones, but we have plenty of the other common poffin flavors."

Dirk's head snaps up at the sound of the door, but there's no being on his feet and leaving for other venues, lightning quick or otherwise--

It's a good thing he's making no claims to being an excellent host today or ever (it's... kind of a loaded phrase), because the first words out of his mouth are not very tactful.

"Motherfuck, it's Wednesday."

As if that wasn't enough, though, he grabs the BLEACH bottle next to him and takes a drink from it, setting down his Gear with his right hand and then using the back of the same right hand to wipe his mouth.

"I don't want any poffins. Feed them to Hythlodaeus, he'll probably eat them." He says this to Steven--to Thace, he raises a single thick brow, arching it perfectly over the top of his shades.

"... I'm going to assume that you've thoroughly cleaned that before filling it with whatever you're really drinking and aren't taking health lessons from Donald fucking Trump," Steven says after a long moment of staring, "but yes, it's Wednesday and yes, we were going to see if Hythlo wanted any. And Emet-Selch if he's here, for that matter."

He makes no motion to move away from the hand at his back.

Edited 2021-02-06 05:47 (UTC)

Thace doesn't remove his hand and returns the arched eyebrow with a faint sense of amusement. He's not sure what Dirk is judging him for, exactly, but he's been judged far more harshly in the past. Dirk will speak up if he wishes to.

Then Steven gets a mildly questioning look, because Thace knows he's missing a reference there. Instead of asking, he just adds, "and why not offer some to you as well, since we're all here at the moment?"

"What? No. I got it from the autism mom forums of the early aughts and tens. Supposedly it'd cure their kids, and I thought, fuck--who am I to argue?"

Acorn snorts hot, wet fire unicorn breath down the back of his tanktop, maybe as commentary on the turn this conversation is taking. Dirk reaches to pet the soft nose of his Rapidash, but this is all getting kind of sidetracked, and he hasn't a goddamn clue what Donald Trump has to do with any of it--maybe he was autistic? Or committed suicide via bleach?

"You'll know whether or not I'm feeling a contined conversation based on whether or not I die messily in the next few minutes."

"Autism doesn't need to be fucking cured," Steven growls, visibly bristling—but then he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten. Reminds himself that Dirk has absolutely no reason to know about Charley and why this particular topic might be fraught, given that the only person he'd ever really told about it was Hythlodaeus when discussing their own probable diagnoses.

Thace's eyes widen in alarm for a split second as Steven bristles, and then he's moving in, bunting his temple to Steven's and breathing slowly in time with him. It's, well, an almost cat-like gesture. He feels a surge of protectiveness, but if Steven isn't lashing out, he can guess it's a sore subject but not a threat.

"I think we may be having two different conversations here," he comments blandly after closing his own eyes for a moment and resetting his expression to neutral.

In the House of Hades [closed to close CR]

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CW: oblique reference to pandemic as past events (he's from 2022 now)

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CW lethal ableism from irl, hypothetical suicide

Ooops Dirk just hit one of Steven's buttons by accident

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